Sexy Naughty Bitchy Me — Vientiane, Laos |April 2003
“Sok Dee Pii Mai! – ໂຊກດີປີໃໝ່! ”
It is Pii Mai Lao (Songkran in Thailand), the April New Year water festival that keeps Laos and surrounding countries in its grip for a minimum of three days. I’m on my way to downtown Vientiane and “have” to stop my bike at regular intervals to allow people, mostly very excited children, to douse me with water. I wasn’t really looking forward to the watery part of this infamous festival, but with an average temperature of around 40°C, it is actually very nice to be drenched in cool water.
When I get downtown, the streets are lined with people jeering, dancing and drinking beer while emptying buckets of water onto a steady stream of pick-up trucks driving past at a footpace and loaded with people returning the downwash by scooping water from large barrels. I park my bike near my favourite pub and join a group of acquaintances who, despite the fact that it’s well before lunch time, are already very drunk. A warmish bottle of beer is thrust into my hands and I stand back to take in the scene. Suddenly I’m grabbed from behind, turned around and there’s a tongue squiggling in my mouth.
“I just really wanted to do that,” says a girl, “Sok dee Pii Mai!” Happy New Year! I step aside nonplussed. I know this girl, it’s Dao. The thing is that this very glamorous looking young woman isn’t what she seems to be: Dao is a boy. To be more precise, he’s a kathoey, better known as a ladyboy, a member of the third sex so prevalent in Southeast Asia. Wow, French kissed a man, a very pretty one but still a man!? Oh well, it’s Pii Mai! I take a long sip of my warm beer and move on. “Bye-bye darling,” Dao shouts.
Someone suggests a change of venue. I get on my bike and follow. After just a couple of minutes, we pull over at a private house where a large-scale party is going on. As I park and get off my bike, I’m grabbed (again!) by the shoulders and, before I consciously realise what’s happening, find myself lying face-down in a puddle of mud with someone smearing talcum powder through my hair. The situation is uncomfortable but the atmosphere non-threatening. It’s Pii Mai!
I manage to get up and am handed another bottle of warm beer, “Sok dee Pii Mai!” The music is loud, too loud, any conversation is impossible. I settle my muddy self on a rickety plastic chair in a corner and watch how a bunch of adults dressed in identical T-shirts, seemingly excited but actually rather uninspired, throw water at passersby. There’s more beer —clinking glasses at every sip— an occasional shot of whiskey and someone passes around a woven bamboo basket filled with purple coloured sticky rice accompanied by skewers of barbecued mystery meat. It’s Pii Mai!
Suddenly there’s noise in the distance. I get up to see what’s going on and, across the main road, see a group of angry-looking young men moving forward with malice. Are those machetes they are waving above their heads? I don’t understand what they are chanting, but they’re obviously upset about something.
“Better go inside now,” says a Lao girl, “This not safety!” We go inside and watch from behind a window how, on the opposite side of the road, 10-15 policemen nervously huddle together. They stare at the slowly approaching angry mob for a while and then… do a runner! As suddenly as they appeared, the mob disperses. It’s Pii Mai?
I don’t know what to think. It’s not even 3pm and so far I’ve been French kissed by a ladyboy, practically waterboarded —albeit with friendly intentions— in a puddle of mud and almost found myself in the middle of an Africanesque machete street battle. During all this, I’ve been drinking an unheard-of amount of warm beer and eating barbequed pieces of meat I haven’t been able to identify the origin of. And this is just day one of the three-day festival. I don’t think I like Pii Mai!
P.S. The Pii Mai Lao festival of 2003 is the only one I’ve actively taken part in since moving to Laos at the end of 2002. Like Carnival in the southern part of the Netherlands, I just don’t get it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s too long, too loud and people get too drunk. This does not mean, however, that I think others shouldn’t enjoy the festival. For those who do, go ahead and have a blast! It’s just not for me.
Tata Young – Sexy Naughty Bitchy on I Believe [CD]. Bangkok, Thailand: Sony Music (2003)
This autobiographical sketch comes from my bundle In the Moment: A Disjointed Audiobiography which is available at Amazon.com. (USD 9.50 for a paperback or USD 4.50 for the Kindle version)
