Fireboat Festival! (#3 in series)

 

Wayward creature that I am, I didn't realize that travelers luck was shining upon me that first night in Luang Prabang.  The next day happened to be Oct. 9, the date of the full moon.  A fortuitous coincidence for someone just off the slow boat, as that means one thing this time of year -- Fireboat Festival!

It gave me a day to rest up and get my bearings.  And good thing that I did, because about dusk the next day the floats were rolled out and the festivities began...

Boan Lai Heua Fai as they call it here.  The motif was boats or more accurately, dragon-like boats aglow with lights, torches, candles or the like.  

Followed by scores of gas-fired lanterns wafting up into the night sky.  Followed by people setting tiny palm floats, topped with incense and candles, off upon the river.  So many that the Mekong was practically a-twinkle that evening, my friends, with candles drifting off into the distance. 

My favorite was the fire dancers.  When the parade would back up and stall, they would dance at center-street, a circle of onlookers gathered around.  Turning to each of the four directions, they ejected fire out of their mouths like a human flamethrower.  I was a good fifteen paces away, yet the heat singed my eyebrows!

Offerings for people to light and set afloat.

Even the monks turned out.

The climax was river boats, festooned as well with multi-colored lights, parading by the shore, followed by a spectacular fireworks display.

Many such events in this part of the world are "lunar" or keyed to the full moon.  This one supposedly is to celebrate the end of Buddhist Lent, when the monks end their annual three-months of study and retreat.  But it's as much about Mother Mekong herself, the life-giver for much of the area, as far as I can tell.

Launching a sky lantern.

Speaking of the monks, Luang Prabang is famed for them.  They arise before dawn and troop the streets in an olden ritual, where people present them with alms, or shall we say in this case, breakfast.

The monks then return to their "wats" or temple compounds (they must be back by sun-up) where they eat one of their two meals.  The other is at 1130.  After noon, they eat no more solid foods the rest of the day.

They can drink liquids later such as tea or juice though, and sometimes, depending on the policy of the wat, Coca-Cola.  Indeed, one day I saw cases being hauled in.  How about that?  Even the monks of Luang Prabang have a taste for the stuff!

"Tak Bet" or alms-giving.

 

Regarding this practice of giving alms, I roused myself pre-dawn and did it once myself.  A local woman had taken me under her wing.  She handed me a woven bamboo tray with clumps of sticky rice, monkey bananas (small) and bags of sugared crackers.

Don't speak to them and always give them two items, I was instructed.  So I hunched down to my knees as the first group approached and proceeded to do just that.

Soon after, I was a busy little beaver...Sticky rice, banana...sticky rice banana...sticky rice, crackers... handed out as each one filed by and presented his pot.  The way it worked, that first group came from one particular wat..the second group from another...and the third from yet a different one.

In fact, there're wats or shrines all over the place in Luang Prabang.  Practically everywhere you look.  Often referred to as a holy city, the place is changing, though.  It's as much a tourist town now.

These days, you can wash down your croissant with a cappuccino freeze at cafés.  People with big-barreled cameras and French, German or English accents swarm the night market in search of silk and souvenirs.  An extension is being added to the runway at the airport.

In spite of this, the city seems to have retained its spiritual character...at least so far.

 Sacred Ho Prabang, on the grounds of old Royal Palace.

Paying homage at a jungled shrine.

328 steps to see the Buddha--and the view--atop Phousi Hill.

One final note about my experience of alms-giving:  As I was hunched there, sticky rice at the ready, it was exciting somehow.  As these men in saffron/orange passed, close enough to touch, they brought with them a certain energy, a certain aura that I had never felt before.  It was both calm and calming, and left me with a pleasant glow within.

The monk way of life produces this, I believe.  I couldn't help but think -- back in the U.S.A., where monasteries and such are practically gone, if we haven't lost something...something intangible but valuable in its own way...a reservoir of such energy.

Anyhow, amen on that for now.   

Seal of the King, atop the old royal palace.

Over my budget at 70,000 KIP ($8.75 U.S.) per night, but I was seduced by the beautiful wood.

I was sorry to leave Luang Prabang.  It was touristy yes, but such a nice place to visit.  But I had used up almost half my time and money, and still had a long ways to go.  As I've written in here before, to accomplish travel goals sometimes you have to keep movin'. 

Another reason I was sorry to leave, next came the bus ride from hell down to Vang Vieng, when I had to grab for barf bags more than once because the switch-backs were so relentless and awful.  For seven hours through the mountains, we didn't traverse a straight stretch of more than a hundred meters.  It didn't bother some passengers, but sure did me!

As things turned out, it was worth it to spend some time farther south at the 4,000 Islands, one of the jewels of the Mekong.  More on that in my next report.

    [PART FOUR TO FOLLOW NEXT WEEKEND]