The view off the side of the old wooden bridge was unmatched. The river below meandered between jungly growth. The golden spire of the hillside temple shone in the fading sunlight. As the light dimmed, three monks dressed in shades of bright orange crossed the foot bridge to the left. We had found the perfectly iconic scene in modern day Laos.
We rode in the bed of a pickup through Northern Laos. Music echoed between buildings, punctuated with noises of partygoers. The streets were flooded, both with people and with the water being flung, sprayed and shot at anyone in range. The whole country had broken out in a giant water fight in celebration of Laos New Year, and we had nothing to protect against the onslaught.