Songkran: As wet as you'll ever be.

Utter pandemonium.









Complete and total chaos.








Really, really, really wet.











This is Songkran, the three day long Thai New Years celebration that is enjoyed by hurling massive volumes of water at passers-by from trucks, bikes, mopeds, on foot, in a moat, on top of a building, pretty much anyplace that a person can be, you can get wet from.

My plan had originally been to attend the "Full Moon Party (FMP)" which is the worlds biggest rave and is held every month (guess when...) on the Southern Thailand island of Ko Phagnagn. Jon told me that he was on his way to Songkran in Chiang Mai (Northern Thai city) as it was supposed to be the best place to celebrate in true "Thai" style. I was torn, but when I started weighing out the factors, the decision became fairly clear. See if you come to the same conclusion:

I could go to the FMP, get drunk out of my mind and dance and stomp around on a beach for 14 hours straight with all Western backpackers, possibly getting robbed (happens frequently), passing out (likely) and getting a sunburn (also likely)

or...

I could go to Songkran, throw, hurl and fling buckets of water at an entire towns worth of people, hang out with mostly Thai people, participate in an annual cultural event (versus a monthly, created event) and avoid that irritating sunburn.

I think that the choice is obvious.

I mean really...who doesn't want to be here?






Now, this is not to knock the FMP in any way, as I hear that it is great fun and I intend on getting down to the islands for the next available one. However I simply couldn't pass up something that sounded like a fully sanctioned version of the type of water fights I used to have when I was a kid, albeit on a scale that I could never have even dreamed about.

So off to Chiang Mai!

It is advised, by pretty much everyone and their sister (who is lovely, you should meet her), that you should not be traveling anywhere in Thailand during Songkran. You will get wet. If you are driving in a taxi, getting off of a bus, eating lunch, someone will take the time to make sure that you are part of the fun. Thus, once you are somewhere for Songkran, you're there for the whole thing. Luckily, Chiang Mai was the spot to be.

We arrived fairly early in the morning, on the day before the festivities were supposed to start, and already the zealous Chiang Mai'ians were dousing each other with water. Due to some quickly made acquaintances from the bus...

Stephani knew what was up.









...we were able to get a guest house right on the main thoroughfare of the city, alongside the moat. To sweeten the deal, our room (which was a whopping 3 dollars a night) had a lovely balcony that looked out over the street where everything was going on.

Norm, Stephani and Jon, enjoying the balcony






Thus accommodated, we went out into the streets to see what was what.

What indeed.

Here is a map of Chiang Mai, so that you can get a better idea of the geometrical uniqueness of the geography:








The blue square that is in the center of the map is an enormous moat that surrounds the "old city" part of Chiang Mai.


View of the moat







'Nother view of the moat










Moat pre-insanity




It is around this moat that trucks and people circle all day long, drenching each other. The water being flung around is mostly taken from the moat itself. In an interesting bit of government-actually-being-useful-for-something, there was a large sign erected (conveniently) across the street from our guest house which showed what the contaminants level of the water was each day. If everything was 'honkey-dorey' (okay) then the numbers were printed in green, if the water was full of deadly pirrahanas, they were in red. This was a very reassuring bit of signage, until we realized three days later that not a single aspect of the sign had changed throughout the festival. While I suppose that it is marginally possible that the levels in the water remained consistent throughout, given the number of people, animals, garbage and other detritus that I saw tossed into that moat, I'm given to believing that it was so much hopeful thinking. We made feeble efforts to avoid swallowing any water, but when you are being drenched with dozens of gallons every block or so, while holding a can of rapidly warming beer chang over your head to avoid getting any water in it, there is really no way to put off the inevitable. So we dug out our antibiotics and re-entered the fray.

Yeah...good luck staying dry






To give an idea of the average day of Songkran for our merry band, I will give a somewhat stream-of-consciousness recital of the thoughts that occurred to me as we went along for a 15 minute stretch:

Wake up, what time is it? Right, noon, okay, sleep somemore. What in the HELL is that noise? Oh god, damn plastic wrapped speakers blaring from the back of pick-up trucks and lady-boys screaming their heads off. Okay, get up, find bandana, find Jon, there he is already up, on the balcony. "Beers?" "Beers." Affirmative. Catch a beer, open, drink, find Stephani, offer beer, "no?", head downstairs, eat banana pancakes, forget bandana, back upstairs, ready to go, money in waterproof bag, head into street splaaaaaaaash okay, now I'm soaked, oh shit, here comes one of the...Aieee!! Damn trucks, buckets full of water and ice that shit is COOOOLD, okay, down the street, buy a bucket, use the string, lower bucket into moat and...oh no...okay, that 6 year old kid is about to get...damnit! His sister is fast. Okay, lower bucket, grab, throw at kid, lower bucket, grab handle, throw at sister. Run...Run! Find Jon, already down the street, refill bucket, throw at passing truck, loud screams, spin in circle, cross street away from moat, go to bar that has chairs set up outside, loud music blasting, dance dance dance, WET! Drink beers, damn! water in the beer, pour out little bit of beer, keep dancing, truck passes with a child inside one of the buckets, wearing goggles "YOU've got a kid in your bucket! A KID! In! Your! Bucket!" Kid smiles and gives thumbs up, hit him with squirt gun. Huge barrel at front of bar for bucket dipping, get Jon, lift barrel up (heavy!) dump into bed of pick up truck, completely flooding it. Dance in a circle. Run down street, get soaked, almost lose contact lens, get it back in eye, buy more beer, spin in a circle, foot gets run over by a pick up truck but it doesn't hurt. Jump in back of truck, bounce up and down, sing loudly, when huge ice filled barrel is empty, run over to moat, lower bucket heave! back into truck, run down street to buy huge blocks of ice, truck picks up speed, run with 10 pound block of ice in already numbing arms...sooooooooo co-co-colllld...

And so on and so on. For about 6 hours a day. For 3 days.



Nailing a truck...the armored division of Songkran





To give you an idea of just how crazy all this was, allow me, if you will, to quote my traveling companion, Mr. Jon Guidroz:

"I can't imagine growing up with this every year"
-Jon Guidroz

Why is this significant? This quote is significant because Mr. Guidroz grew up in New Orleans, about 6 blocks from Bourbon street. He has attended Mardi Gras nearly every year of his life. And he couldn't imagine having this every year.

Marinate on that for a moment.


Elephants. Need I say more?





To touch on some other aspects of Songkran:

-It is one of the friendliest giant fights you could possibly imagine. Despite the necessarily adversarial nature of a water fight (someone gets you wet, you get them wet), it is all done according to a fluid(no pun intended) set of rules. If a person does not want to get soaked, they really shouldn't be outside...but if that situation is unavoidable, all one needs to do is make eye contact with a would-be douser and wave their hands at them. This will keep that person from super-hydrating you. The problem with this is that it is not really possible to make eye contact with several thousand people at once (unless you're a fly) so you're still getting wet.

Jon makes a feeble attempt to keep his perm dry









-The best part of the festival is that it is a family affair, with the parents usually supervising very small children. The little kids were what made this so much fun, because it was clear that they were just enjoying the hell out of it. The unspoken rule is that you simply do not totally drench the little ones. Instead, you engage them by flicking a little bit of water in their direction, at which point they'll probably rush behind the legs of the nearest parent-looking person, peer out shyly, then, upon coaxing, will giggle and run towards you with their own small bucket to splash away at your knees and ankles. This is the cutest thing in the world and would be more fun if the whole process didn't leave your backside facing the street making you an easy target for...

-...the ice water. Oh lord the ice water. In most of the trucks that drove around, the occupants had large barrels that they filled with water and giant chunks of ice. These were the "atom bomb" equivalents of the weaponry used. When you saw anyone with a fiendish gleam in their eye, brandishing a bucket high above their head and looking right at you, goosebumps running up and down their bare arms, you knew that you were done for. And holy wow was it cold. The only payback was to flood the backs of the trucks, which we did frequently, usually under a barrage of cold water dousings. It was like storming a hill with Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders, except...not at all like that.



People leaping off of the moat...into water that was "Level Green"...yeah maybe not




-Being farang (pronounced "fah-lang" and meaning "white guy"), we were obviously targets throughout the entire event. This is not to say that we didn't hold our own. Rather, there were consistent, good-natured give and takes, in which we'd scream our battle cry of "Farang!" and the surprised looking Thai people would go "Farang?" and have to quickly prepare themselves for our onslaught. Then everyone would get a lot wetter and shared beers.

-If you're noticing that drinking is a large part of this event, then you are somewhat observant. To put it mildly, people drank...A lot. The subsequent displays of behavior, given the unusual circumstances were something to behold. I distinctly recall watching one man drink his bucket of water as he tried to throw his beer at people. When confused at the non-alcoholic taste of the water, he looked at both can and bucket with a knitted brow, and finally solved his problem by pouring the beer into the half full bucket, then throwing it at someone. When I walked away, he was looking at his empty can with an expression of "hey, where'd my beer go?"

So despite all of this madness going on, you are probably asking yourself, "but Norm, wasn't his during the Jewish holiday of Passover? What did you do for a seder?" Well gentle reader, I'm impressed that you are so up on your Jewish holidays and when they occur. Allow me to put your mind at ease.

I attended a seder, in Northern Thailand, during the Thai new year, with approximately 250 other people. This is pretty much where the interesting part of the story ends, as the thing lasted for 4.5 hours, was conducted entirely in Hebrew (as it was being organized through Chabad, an international Israeli organization that puts on such events), the food was terrible and I paid far too much. Still, a Passover seder in Thailand. Craziness.

When it is not the Thai New Year, Chiang Mai is also a highly visited place for it's laid back nature, excellent food, interesting architecture, and night life Without boring everyone to tears, lets focus on the night life.

While at the seder, Stephani (who knew about the thing, where it was etc. She was like a walking Lonely Planet but only for things that I was actually interested in. Very helpful!) and I had met a nice woman from the US who worked in Chiang Mai as a jazz singer. So of course, we went to hear her, and she was fantastic. There was tons of live music, most of it occurring at restaurants that were set alongside the river. These could have been jazz joints in Chicago or New York or anywhere that good music is heard. Dim lighting, overpriced drinks and the musicians right in your face as you sat around the "stage."


Jon is focused on the music man. Stephani notices whats going on...





A bar that we spent a great deal of time at is known as Brasserie, one of the most popular bars in Chiang Mai. At first I couldn't figure out why the place was packed, then the sweaty musicians began their second set and it became immediately apparent: these guys were good. Really, really good. The highlight being the lead guitarist, Khun Took, who wailed out Credence, Doors, Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, and, most impressively, painfully superb Jimi Hendrix covers. If Jimi had looked even slightly Thai, this guy could have been his twin. The band clearly plays together often, as they were always tight and together, lots of improvisation that the rest of the musicians followed flawlessly and a real understanding of the music that they were playing. I also have to give special recognition to the drummer, who basically kicked ass.

The nights were almost as fun as the days.

Not too shabby when it's quiet either







As all good things must end, so did Songkran come to a close. It was also time for Jon and I to separate, as he was moving on to Japan, and I to Laos. It had been a mad, wild two and a half randomly found weeks and I was (and continue to be) thankful to him for his suggestions along the way, his consistently manifested insanity, and his memory for Eddie Murphy Raw quotes which kept us in stitches during many an otherwise quiet moment.

Safe travels Mr. Gui-droz.

So I found myself alone again as the city emptied, and dried, out. When not crowded with revelers, it is a quiet, peaceful city, with a luminous night market and a vibrant local community. As I began again to enjoy my solitude (as one must), I knew that it was time to move on. The travel bugs which have infused themselves into me began to gnaw at my feet again, and the bold maps of South-East Asia in the guidebooks were looking too much like promises not to try and ensure that they were kept.



The moat 2 days later. Bit of a change.







Next: Trouble on the Mekong, more unbelievable hospitality, and the slow sleepy ways of Laos

*BIG ASS DISCLAIMER! Almost none of these pictures are ones that I took. Due to the extremely wet and relentless nature of Songkran, I didn't want to risk the itty-bitty digital-ness of my camera. All of these pictures were taken of Songkran in Chiang Mai (where I was) in the past two years. I wanted to give an idea of what it was like*