We had booked our guesthouse a week earlier while in LP the first time, as prices double and triple and rooms are hard to find. So we make a dash for the room as soon as the minibus stops and we successfully dodge the waterfight mayhem and keep our backpacks dry.
LP has a curfew, at 11.30pm all the bars close, but we found a way around this by sitting in the gardens after the staff had gone home, and bumped into a guy called Tim who we had had a beer with in Nong Khiaw, and his mate Phil, and then their travel friends Francis, Brad, Nath and 2 Danish girls. After leaving LP, we were to travel together with ''the lads'' for a couple of weeks.
We were'nt ready or steady for this 9 day long water, flour and ink fight, never mind armed well enough. Luckily we had been warned not to carry anything you wouldn't take swimming. All throughout the city, which had grown from 20,000 people to a guesstimate of 300,000 people, small and big groups of Laoatians stand dancing and drinking every 10 - 20 meters next to barrels of water, soaking everyone who walks, runs, scoots or sneaks past with happy shouts of "Pee Mai Laos" "Happy New Year". If they don't soak us, they give us a glass with ice and fill it with the tasty beerLao or rice wine and demand - sometimes for spiritual reasons, sometimes because they are extremely generous and sometimes because they are bladdered - we down it pronto, force feed us extremely spicy cabbage and then refill the glass to down it again, again and again until at least one of us staggers away. All the while with crazy cow bell Lao music blaring from gangs standing and cruising on pick up trucks and old army jeeps throwing water around, and live bands playing Michael Bouble covers. Immense.
The party kicked off in a big way every day way before lunchtime. On the third full day there was a huge party organised on an island in the river. Massive tents and food and drinks stalls were set up for easily 10,000 people. This is where the great sandcastle (or sandpile) competition takes place, overlooked by military officials.
Animals are released on the 16th, and so it was in a quieter area near the loos at this island party that Kae and Francis and I released 2 small birds from cages, which we had bought from the market for 5000kip each. Fish are also released (and turtles and snakes apparently, but we didn't see any).
We all had flour gleefully rubbed into our faces and hair (a natural shampoo, if dry. A natural glue if wet) from every angle, especially on the island. All foreigners get extra attention, but even then the locals seemed to especially aim for Kae. We bought some flour and joined in. This is also where the ink fight started, with children with black or yellow or red hands running through the crowds and coming atcha like the beginning of a Daz White advert.
The lot of us decided to get the ferry back to the mainland, and walked right into a trap. We were led to an empty boat and asked to sit and wait for it to fill up while insanely manic tireless men and women splashed us contantly for at least 20 minutes.
The next couple of days merged into a blur of water fighting and drinks. Morning hangovers were cured by strolling out of the guesthouse towards a chicken sandwich, getting soaked, eating a sandwich and coke and then get more soaked on the walk back. Rockets were fired into the air intermittently, said to encourage rainfall, which would be a blessing as the water is said to be a way of washing away the sins of the previous year. Some of the kids and women were very sweet when they poured water from a bucket down your shoulders, and the symbolism and belief that the water purifies you for a fresh start in the new year is sometimes very clear. On the other hand, there's always the odd fat old German who chases you down the street with his oversized super soaker, as if he wished he were firing live rounds.
On the morning of the 16th there is the biggest alms giving ceremony of the year, where monks travel to Luang Prabang smaller towns and villages, and they all walk along the main street next to the temple on a high hill, carrying bowls or baskets. People are sat waiting for them to come past with food to put into their baskets to curry favour with the spirits.
Alms giving happens every day at dawn, but this one is the biggie and we weren't going to miss it because of a hangover, neither were we to sensibly go to bed early, so the 7 of us stayed up overnight, drinking beers outside mine and Kae's guesthouse. During this session, we sat up chatting with the police and drinking water at their open air station. When 5.30am came, I woke Kae up and we all trundled down to the main street. I bought a load of rice with fish and mango wrapped in banana leaves to give to the monks, and they were so delicious I ate some of them myself. But only one or two, or three, and I was encouraged to by a Loas lady, and I definitely gave most of them most respectfully to the monks, so don't believe Kae if she tells you different.
On the last and 6th full day we stayed in LP, there was one huge rain and thunderstorm. Kae and I had decided to climb the big hill with a temple on top to see the city from above before we left, and just as we began the rain began to pour like I've never seen before. We took some shelter at the top and on the way down the long winding staircase had turned into a fast flowing, muddy river. At the bottom of the hill, scooters were ploughing through flooded streets, and just like every day but this time for over 12 hours, the power went down. That evening we struggled to find food, and the next day we headed for Laos' famous 24 hour party town, Vang Vieng.
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