Hot Spot

PRINCELY DIGS I knew I was going to like the Souvannaphoum Hotel as soon as the rumpled bellboy showed me into its best suite and began pointing out its features. "There's no television," I said, as my eyes adjusted to the crepuscular gloom. "Correct, sir," he replied, beaming. Then he bid me a pleasant stay and turned on his heel, with nary a hint of the smarmy loitering or obsequious entreaties that generally accompany the importuning of tips in expensive hotels.

I had experienced a brief flash of irritation, thinking that for $80 a night, one might reasonably expect a television. But I quickly figured that, free of the insidious temptations of the idiot box, I would spend my time in the hotel far more productively: drinking beer on the bougainvillaea-draped patio, listening to the chirps of the wriggling geckos on the walls, and watching the world go by. And should I grow weary of my tropical tranquility, the downstairs bar beckoned. Complete with dusty wickerwork chairs, an ancient gramophone and a scattering of pith helmets, it looks straight out of a Graham Greene novel.

The government-run hotel—on Thanon Phothisalat, Ban Wat That, tel: (856-71) 212-200 for reservations—renovated under French supervision in 1995, was once the official residence of the late Prince Souvanna Phouma (the end "a" was apparently dropped from the hotel's name at the government's insistence, so as not to "evoke the monarchy"). During the political storms that wracked the country before the communist takeover in 1975, Souvanna Phouma served twice, albeit briefly, as Prime Minister. He was also, in the late 1950s, Laos' ambassador to France.

Knowing that I was sleeping in the prince's old bedroom, where he spent his twilight years reliving old glories and plotting who knows what intrigues under the watchful eye of the government, added to the Souvannaphoum's mildewy colonial charm. As did the chilled bottles of Beer Lao served up by the smiling bellboy.