Songkran: Thai New Years

Thais celebrate their New Years in mid-April with a water-themed festival, much like Myanmar's Thingyan.  Traditionally, it is thought that Songkran was about pouring scented water over the hands of royals and elders.  This practice is still observed today in many places, such as schools and temples.  The day before the festival started, some of the teachers gathered at school to pay respect to the school director and his legion of assistant directors (in all their varied roles) by carrying out this tradition.  Two monks came to begin the proceedings and, as far as I can gather, offer their blessings.

When I rocked up, everyone was wearing these bright, colourful Hawaiian shirts, which are apparently official Songkran uniform.  On the phone the night before, my boss had told me I had to wear one too.

"I don't have one," I said honestly.

"You no worry!  I bring one for you.  My son's."

"Uhh... no, you know... no, I'm just fine."

For better or worse, the trio of grade three teachers who insist they are my "Thai mothers" brought one for me anyway.  I can't say it was my most masculine look... and the traditional necklace of Jasmine flowers didn't help either...

After pouring water on the old man's hands, we formed a small procession that visisted the few shrine altars in our school grounds, where the director would pray and then sprinkle water on them.  In the meantime, the modern application of Songkran was underway, with a free-for-all pouring of cold water over each other.  It was pretty tame, and had nothing on the days that lay ahead...

I can't even begin to describe it.  People were splashing and spraying water everywhere.  As a foreigner, I had an extra target mark over my head, though really it made no difference.  When you're wet, you're wet.  It was, however, some of the best fun I've ever had.

 

 Although the festival lasted three days, on the evening of the second, I had to leave.  I was dripping wet, my entire neighbourhood had turned into a water party, and people were stopping me every five steps to chat or to smear talcum powder on my face (another Songkran custom).  The party was really getting into gear... but I had a flight to catch.  Reluctantly, I pushed on past them.  I was so sore to leave Songkran in its best state yet.  It would've been a hell of a lot of fun, had I stayed that evening and the next day, which is - I have heard - the best day of Songkran.

I changed into dry clothes, boarded my plane, and flew to Bangkok.  I'd purposely booked a hotel in Khao San Road (the main backpackers' area) in the hopes that Songkran would still be thriving well into the night.  I even packed my wet clothes and wandered the city with them on, expecting (and hoping) to get wet all over again.  I couldn't hack it that the fun might be over.

The streets were covered in rubbish and a pale brown muck, which I later realised was talcum powder.  It was everywhere.  There were plenty of people about, but only a couple were still squirting water guns, and only briefly.  The police were there in force to ensure the party kept to responsible hours.  It was, after all, approaching midnight.

I got three or four hours of sleep.  Before the final day of Songkran commenced, I returned to the airport for my next flight.  It was a strange feeling.  So much of me wanted to stay and enjoy the rest of the festival.  Another part of me was eager to be back in Japan for the first time since I left a year ago.

It wasn't a fun flight.  All I could think about was the immense joy of getting wet and throwing water, of laughing with friends and strangers alike.  I hated that I was missing it.