Chapter 25: Pee Mai

April 13 through 15 in South East Asia is called Pee Mai, or Song Kran, it’s a Thai/Lao/Khmer (and perhaps Burmese?) New Year. What’s the origin of this date? is disputable. Some told me it’s got to do with their Buddhism calendar when Buddha received enlightenment, or others say it’s to cerebrate the arrival of rain season, after they endure long drought, hens the tradition of throwing water at each other. One thing for sure is that, doesn’t matter if you’re local or Farang, you’re going to get wet, and drunk.

morning of April 13th people line up on the street to receive New Year’s blessing from the village’s only three monks


the village brings one cow from the farm to slaughter. this poor chosen animal is tied up by the beach for two days exhausted with fear before it gets shared equally by all the families in the village. to my surprise two dogs are also slaughtered in the center of the village to be catered to their kitchens


Arcade game is set up in the street


Mr. Pan, a big brother of the village has been playing self-taught guitar for 15 years. Everybody loves him, especially when they are having a party. He invites me, Lek and an American traveler Chris to their holiday fishing trip


so we leave the village getting increasingly excited with Pee Mai, drive a small boat to the quiet beach up the Nam Ou river


Toshiro dances with butterflies


Toshiro wonders if it’s deep enough to jump (and decides against it)


flock of butterflies cerebrates the new year (above three photos by Lek)


we catch fish, maybe not enough, but don’t worry we have plenty of that Lau Lao



we have the whole beach to ourselves, with occasional party boat passing by full of the drunks


Sabai Dee Pee Mai! (happy new year!) it’s my third new year this year (Western new year in January, Chinese new year when I started Vipasanna meditation in February, then this one)


Next day (April 14th) the Mueng Ngoy villagers are across the river, building sand pagodas


monks come to bless the them


Chris Koch, from Seattle, WA on his journey from January to next January. Sweet, innocent, curious and kind, easily find his friend wherever he goes


Toshiro(good pupil) tries to build a gate to the temple, as his name is ‘Yamaguchi(entrance to the mountain)’


while some kids are getting drunk to the floor


let’s go into the water


Toshiro back flips in shallow beach


Toshiro and Lek splash-fight with the locals


Toshiro throws Lek into water


Aghrrrrr! Toshiro loses control… that’s a toddler you are throwing


back to the village, watching the last sunset in Mueng Ngoy


April 15, the last day of Pee Mai madness we are heading back to Luang Prabang


Good bye, Mueng Ngoy. I really hope to come visit again.


we change from boat to local bus (with no sealed walls and windows) at Nong Khiaw. after 2 ½ weeks of staying afloat on river transportation, I thought we’d get on a ground way to stay dry… but the driver warns us otherwise. As soon as we leave Nong Khiaw, through every village we drive by, we get ambushed by water guns, hoses and buckets.

while all the other passenger endure the water attacks keeping their expensive electronics tightly tucked in their bags, I take chance on my all analog Nikon FE2. I purchased this camera before the last year’s Rice Farm Tour, carried through dust of Cambodia and humidity of Dominical Republic, and the camera fell into temporary coma many times. And each time I just left it cool, dry and clean and waited for it to get back to life again, as it always did.

Immediately after the photo above, my Nikon and my face receive a hard hit from the two kids who’s holding the buckets next to the one with water gun, and I didn’t even get to photograph it. The camera is soaking wet and my face hurts like it never has, then minutes later I check to see that the camera is still working


Around the next corner I hold the camera to another suicidal position. This is the last shot I captured with my trusty Nikon FE2 before it stopped its function completely.

The rest of the way to Luang Prabang we keep getting splashed for four hours, and when we arrive in the city the madness is beyond photographing, even if my camera were working. Main street is jammed with pick-up trucks with people on the backs with large tanks of water, often mixed with color paint or even automobile oil, throwing water at each other and at pedestrians. We check into a guest house and change into dry clothes, only to get wet again on our way to the dinner.


Morning of April 16th, the city wakes up as nothing happened, and my Nikon is resurrected after drying all night. But when you go to the store to buy something, you may notice that every note you receive as change is wrinkling wet.