I like Cambodia. I can be easily lulled to sleep by the gentleness in any Cambodian’s eyes. The culture is pure tradition, something an American will never fully understand. And the genuine curiosity for the human race is quite welcoming. I like it. But I love Laos.
I instantly fell for Laos. It’s the demeanor that makes most people hand over their heart so easily to the country. Some Laoations might be as poor as Cambodians and make the average national income of $1000/year, but their attitudes about it differ completely. They are comfortable. And happy. And proud. And their opinion of foreigners puts us all on equal ground. The air of desperation I felt in Cambodia and Vietnam was detained at the Laos border. I was no longer a walking ATM in Laos, which was freeing. And comfortable. And made me unafraid to approach people. For this reason alone, I am head over heels.
Luang Prabang helped seal the deal even further. Its buildings and skinny streets bare evidence of its old status as a French capital. But the people are still best. At the frequent markets that illuminate the streets with Christmas lights and lanterns in the night and spices and fruits in the day, they smile with pride at the passing tourists or monks. I think they have the right idea; it is impossible to bargain with a radiant smile.
I was lucky to arrive in Luang Prabang for the Laos New Year, or Pii Mai, in April, with 9 of my closest friends. It was strange. I started alone, met a girl from St Louis in a tuk-tuk, picked up a British couple and a chick from New Mexico on a trek, and then met a South African teacher, a French guy, and two blondes, one from Sweden and the other from Australia. Then, out of nowhere, appeared Jersey Kim from Vietnam. We were an army of fun people, and it felt great to be part of a group of friends again. We met for dinner every night and had deeper conversations than the old “where are you from” routine. Plus, there’s nothing like celebrating a holiday with your friends. Especially the sort of holiday that involves warfare. You need everyone on your side.
Basically, the Laos, Thai, and Cambodian New Year is all about water. For weeks beforehand, all three countries prepare for the world’s largest water war, gathering weaponry and making the necessary preparations. Because from the 14th – 16th of April, it’s on.
The celebration is centered around an ancient legend and is more or less about keeping a God’s head wet. Sounds weird, but it’s not like Jesus’s resurrection or that whole heaven of 40 virgins idea makes me think any one religion is rational.
A very long time ago, a man and wife were struggling to have a baby, so they begged the Hindu god Indra for help. She put them on fertility drugs and gave them a weekly lesson in the proper conceiving positions. Just kidding. She sent an angel to be born. This angel was extremely intelligent and blessed with the ability to communicate with animals.
The Hindu god Kabillaprom wanted to test this angel so he gave him some trivia questions and a week to find the answers. If the angel answered incorrectly, his head would be cut off. If he didn’t, the all-powerful Kabillaprom would cut off his own head. The angel under question spent six days racking his brain. Right when he gave up, he heard some birds talking about the answers.
The next day, he gave those answers to the god, and the god in turn cut off his own head. However, his power was so great that he couldn’t place his head in the sky or it would flood the world. He couldn’t place it in the water or it would dry up. He couldn’t put it on land or it would burn everything. So, he placed it in the possession of his daughters, the most beautiful women on Earth. They had the task of wetting the head every year to keep any catastrophes at bay.
So, every year in mid-april, many Laoations head to Luang Prabang for a 3-day festival. The first part involves a beauty pageant, in which Miss Luang Prabang is chosen from hundreds of girls. It’s really a big deal because the winner gets to carry the god’s head in the parade the following day. Thankfully, they are not ashamed to make it a shallow beauty contest with no questions on foreign affairs, avoiding the chance for something like this to happen:
The next few days of Pii Mai entail a washing of the many Buddha images all around town (and there are a lot!). They also build sand stupas, around which they pray and have mud fights. The Laoations are experts at combining tradition with the debauchery. I’ve never had so much fun praying before, throwing in a dance move afterwards, drinking beer with ice, and annihilating one another with buckets of water. Lots of water. Seas of water.
Grannies reloaded their water AKA 47s and snuck stealthily behind big tourists. Giggling teenagers piled into the back of pick-ups and circled around the town for hours, hurling water on anyone they saw. Transvestites straddled motorbikes and just laughed when a tourist shot them in the eye, washing off mascara. The Laoations had no problem including us in everything. A rickety old man poured scotch down my throat, a pair of large women grinded their hips into mine, matching the beat of some Laoation rap song, all the while screaming ‘Sabaidee Pii Mai!’ Happy New Year! It was a big party. Everywhere you went, it was a big party. The most inclusive, raucous, daytime party. The kind of party that squirts you in the face and reminds you that you’re alive. And, thanks to tradition, that squirt lasts for three days.
NOTE: Thanks to the owner of the Spicy Laos Guesthouse, we got to understand the true meaning of Pii Mai. He explained to us the legend, fed us traditional food, included us in the various ceremonies, and even procured a spot for us in the special parade. Best place to stay in Luang Prabang.
Competitors in the Miss Luang Prabang competition. To me, they all look alike. Not because they’re Asian. Because they’re all wearing the same thing.
Part of the tradition of Pii Mai.
Buddhists place money and food in monks’ bowls. I hated myself for thinking it looked a bit like trick-or-treating.
My face after day 1 of mud and water fights. Oh, and flour fights. 
A drunk local at an impromptu dance party in the street. Note the tallest Lao man in existence nearby.