Rocket Festival in Muang Sing

Sasha:

Ra and I on the Chantimmeng Guesthouse Veranda

The bus ride from Luang Namtha to Muang Sing is one of the beautiful bus rides I've ever taken.  It cuts right through the NPA- the Laos equivalent of a national park.  It is a protected area, with the only settlements being the bamboo huts that make up hilltribe villages.  There are towering karst mountains coated in trees and vines, and rivers snaking through swooping valleys.  We were like small children looking into toy stores- with our faces pressed to the windows in awe.

Adam on the Veranda

For this journey, we were teamed up with Adam (from DC) and James from St. Louis.  They are both tall, blond American men who play guitar.  They met up in Pai, and enjoyed playing guitar together so much that they decided to travel together for a little while.  We were fortunate enough to hear them each play, and recorded a  jam session they did together.  They are pretty awesome musicians.  And we liked their company.  We arrive in Muang Sing along with a German woman, and the 5 of us set off in search of a guesthouse.  The first place we go to was the German woman's pick out of LP (Lonely Planet).  The rest of us are not impressed by the rough digs and potentially leaky roof, so we head out.  Ra and I find a place we like across the street, but Adam and James are not down with sharing a bed.  Ra and I drop off our stuff, and wander down the street to my original pick from LP.  James and Adam find a room with two beds to share, then come back to us.

Sasha on the Veranda

"Just go check out the inside," they tell us, " We're pretty sure you're going to want to switch hotels."

It wasn't so much that the rooms were impressive, or that the hard beds are worth writing home about, but there was a veranda on the 2nd floor that had a valley view to take my breath away.  There were a couple of tables, and chairs to sit on to enjoy the view.  So, sure enough, we hoofed it to the previous guesthouse, grabbed our bags, gave the key back and apologized, before hiking back to the Chantimmeng guest house to join the guys.

Hanging out on the Rocket platform 

We were lucky enough to be in Muang Sing the weekend of Bun Bang Fai, the annual home-made rocket festival.  As we explored the town the day after arriving, the rockets were very much in evidence. Ranging from 12-30 feet in length, they are made from bamboo (although some of them stuff the black powder into a pvc tube which is then attatched to bamboo) and decorated to be colorful and sparkly.  As the day went on, all of the rockets around town were carried out to the field where the festival is held. As we went out into the field, James was making friends with the local kids.  He could speak a little bit of Thai, which is close enough to Lao to be able to communicate.  So he was talking to them, and teaching them English phrases as the whole troupe of us walked out to the launching platform.  We joined all the kids who had climbed to the top of it, and they were highly amused to have the Falangs climb the platform with them.  As the adults carrying the rockets arrived, the kids all scampered down, and told us to get down as well.

Local boys practicing their English with the Falangs

Ra in Particpation mode

At this point, Ra's conditioning in radical participation kicks in, and he and Adam pick up a rocket and help deliver it from a truck to the place the locals are stacking up the other rockets.  Meanwhile, some of the local guys are clearing making fun of the falangs carrying the rockets (I am assuming this only because I hear them using the word falang repeatedly while laughing and gesturing in our direction).  At one point, two of the boys we made friends with approach with a rocket on their shoulders and Ra picks it up, and carries it while the two boys run and laugh along side. It was kind of cool to be there for the set up, and to feel like we had helped out.

Ra and Adam near the festival field

The next day, Ra and I came back from breakfast to find Adam and James on the back patio of the guest house surrounded by a group of locals.  They had made friends with a couple of girls who worked for the hotel, and the 4 of them had gone to the morning market to pick up ingredients for a Lao breakfast. On the table was a bowl of  fish soup, chicken soup, rice, and a large omelet.  Everybody had chopsticks and a spoon, and was digging in.   I spent the rest of the morning joking in a half lao/half english conversation while everybody consumed glass after glass of Beer Lao, served over ice.  The group ranged from age 20-34.  James had developed a decent crush on the 20yo girl who worked for the hotel, and was finding ways to flirt with her, with him knowing as much Thai/ Lao as she knew in English. That alone was high entertainment.

Eventually a bottle of Lao Lao, the ubiquitous, cheap, home-made whiskey was purchased, and the oldest Lao guy started pouring shots, and passing them to various people, with the Lao version of "drink drink drink" being chanted in the back ground.  Eventually I made my way upstairs, a little tipsy, to collect Ra so we could head down to the Rocket Festival.

Sasha with  rather drunk "Team Yellow"

The atmostphere of the festival was some part Asian-Buddhist festival, some part county fair, and some part redneck drinking fest.  Sorry if the last two are redundant.  There were crowds of people herding into the entrance, though due to the rural location and low population density of Laos, it was populated without being too crazy.  There was a karaoke bar open for business right at the entrance, with another musicians stage a stone throw away where people were probably going to sing karaoke later.  After giving a donation? entrance fee? we followed the crowd through the mud, out to the rockets.  Along the way there were carnival games- darts and balloons, betting games involving a vertical wheel, fishing games, complete with large stuffed animal prizes.  Beyond those, there were fruit selling stalls, barbecue meat stalls, papaya salad stalls, and other temporary tents set up to sell mysterious food. Beyond the stalls were hundreds of people-lots and lots of teenage Buddhist monks, Chinese tourists, Lao guys in cowboy hats, and groups of  women dressed in theme colors, wearing impractical shoes.  One group of women would be dressed in outfits made from the same lime green fabric, others would be dressed in yellow, blue, or bright pink, with matching parasols and gaudy makeup.  I think they were the equivalent of cheerleaders for the rocket making groups.  They'd be huddled up together around a yellow crate filled with 40's of beer Lao.

Lighting the rocket

When it was time for a new rocket to be launched, the women would dance, or clap cymbals while the guy who had sponsored the rocket by paying for it would climb onto a bamboo platform chair, with a crate or two of Beer Lao 40's in his lap, while a bunch of guys picked up the platform chair up to their shoulders, and carried him out to the field.  They'd chant and yell, and drink lots of beer while the fuse was lit. Then the rocket would either misfire, or it would go sailing into the sky to lots of cheering. There were probably more than a hundred rockets that went off over the course of the day.

Close up of the rocket decorations

The Rocket Festival is always at the cusp between the wet and the dry season, to request more rain.  No doubt, it predate Buddhism. I looked on the internets, and here is an excerpt of a song they might be singing:


 Oh Hao Oh   Hao Oh Hao Oh
        May we request for a glass of Lao alcohol!
        May we request for a bottle of Lao liquor!
        If you do not grant us any drink, we will not move away.
        If we die as the ghost, we will hunt you.
        If you run away, I will throw the soil after you.
        If we die to be the bird, we will cut you betel.
        If we die to be the rat, we will spoil your loom pattern.
        If we die to be your baby, we will cry for your milk.


The Rocket Festival seemed behind the season this year, as there was already plenty of rain, which made the field a muddy mess. With all my usual grace and dignity, I slipped in the mud and fell on my ass on the walk out of the field.  That concluded the afternoon for us.  We went back the hotel to change, and to relax after all the noise and people (and drinking).  By the time we went out for dinner, it was chaos.  Hundreds of people were leaving town, the restaurant we had been frequenting was closed, and the other restaurants waved us away because they were having private parties.  In the market area, they were closing, and mostly just selling barbecued meat.  After giving up on any other options, we went to the market where I grabbed a plastic bag of sticky rice and a packet of steamed bamboo, and we went back to our room in defeat.