Chiang Mai, Thailand

Ideally, I would have slept off my hangover and had the rest of the day to relax. However, April 13th marked the start of Songkran and the final morning I had booked at the blissful guesthouse. Songkran also meant the water fights and drenching would be out in full force. I had set my alarm for eight and set about water proofing my bags and making sure all valuables were tucked far in the middle. I grabbed the bike I had rented a few days ago and set off on my mission.

I was mostly okay until the small streets came. There I smiled at the families and children with buckets full of water and large eager grins. I pointed to the front side of my body saying "tee-nee" to indicate splash here. By the time I got to the hostel, my front was pretty wet, but people respected the bag. I stuck it in storage there and then got subsequently drenched as I hopped on my bike to catch a few more hours of rest at my former guesthouse.

Since essentially all my friends had hopped on flights and buses down south to our favourite little island escape, I had the whole day to spend on my own, hung-over and embarrassed. It took sheer willpower not to find a flight or bus down to party on the island with them. Part of me screamed 'no, look where drinking got you yesterday. You're only alive on pure chance'. Another part of me just smiled and whispered 'you know you love beach partying'.

The more stubborn and logical part of my brain won out. By late morning, I finally had enough energy to face the world again. I chatted with the guesthouse worker who wondered what the heck I was doing still there when Songkran was happening. I felt bad he was stuck working, but he did get off for the day at one that afternoon.

I armed myself with a poncho, my smaller backpack and the water gun to make the bike ride down to my new guesthouse once again. It was as if I was preparing myself for battle out there. I made an effort not to initiate any splashing, but retaliated when it came my way. Most people were good sports and didn't spray at my bag, only protected by a thin layer of plastic. Thank you disposable (at the users' discretion) Indonesian poncho.

Later in the afternoon, after finding the section where hundreds if not thousands of Thai people were lining the streets near the canal, fetching water and flinging it or shooting their guns, I came across a parade more representative of traditional Songkran values. 

Songkran was a new year's festival throughout Thailand and some other South East Asian countries. It coincided with the return of the end of dry season and symbolized a new beginning. All the water works symbolized cleansing and washing away of the past to start fresh.

I imagined water was traditionally placed over a person's shoulder with a gentle splash. A variety of substances from soap to baby powder to flour were slopped on strangers' cheeks to also show that cleaning power. Throughout the days, the solutions were gradually washed away. Some Thai people did the same to their vehicles too.

I kept walking until I found a good place to stand. Processions of Thai people came down the street. Some were groups of young men dancing in cultural dress. Others featured young women with their hair swept up and wearing red traditional dresses. Their makeup had to be waterproof given the fact that they were squirted and splashed regularly but remained posed and beautiful, the Thai way.

Thai men and women walked the sidewalks with buckets and cups of water infused with flowers and herbs for sale. I didn't quite grasp the meaning until a pickup truck drove up in the parade with a large golden Buddha statue in the back. People of all ages went up as it slowed to pour this holy water of the Buddha and recite prayers. Some even had their own water bottles full of it. I wasn't sure if it was disrespectful to shoot a water gun at them so I chose not to partake, also because I didn't know the prayer.

More people came by and I recognized some of the hill tribe outfits from my time in the Akha house and others from pictures in museums I had seen. Chiang Mai was up north and had more people with hill tribe origins than other areas. The pointed Akha hats and their belled dresses made me smile.

The only part that annoyed me was an old foreign man sitting in a lawn chair and squirting the backs of my legs and my behind with his gun. I saw other women, both Thai and foreign, looking back at him to see who was doing this and he continued without shame. Sometimes it felt like the dirty perverts came to Thailand to escape judgement and act however they pleased because here they were considered rich and excused purely on their skin colour.

After the parade finished, I walked back into the touristy Old City. The contrast between cultural Songkran and modern Songkran was evident. In modern celebrations, the battle spirit took charge. People would rent out tuktuks or trucks, put a big bin of water in the back and driver around soaking as many people as possible. More Thais than foreigners partook in that one from what I could tell. When I made it back to my new guesthouse, I required a dry set of clothes just to take a nap without soaking my bed. At least I got to see some of the more traditional parts of Songkran 

Later that night Sabrina, Taylor and Chloe arrived from Bali to join me in the less than quaint guesthouse. We went out for supper and they shared pictures of the Bali volcano tour they went on as well as their new Ubud memories.

Songkran continued and we readied ourselves with bathing suits under our quick drying clothes. We went off to get the girls some water guns. They found Doraemon and Ben 10 themed ones in the same style as mine except they also bought smaller pistols as well. They thought the whole ensemble was 'pretty swell'.

We walked outside the walls of Old City to the area where Air Asia and Coke had both set up stages. The Thai government wanted to discourage people from drinking too much during Songkran (ooups) and offered alternatives to turning the festival into an alcoholic one by offering big dance stages that also featured foam machines. Watching an eruption of bubbles cover those fortunate enough to be in that space filled me with childlike joy. I had always wanted to go to a foam party, however wasteful they were and here it was! My friends didn't have the same permanent smile and fixation that I did.

After lunch, they did indulge me by allowed me to drag us back there so I could be swallowed up in a mountain of steam and dance to the music while random Thai women on stage sprayed everyone with hoses likely filled with canal water. During our time there, a Thai man came up to me, grabbed my wrist and lifted up my arm. Before I could protest he squirted my underarm with a water gun and I burst into hysterics.

"Clean!" he declared

If I hadn't fallen in love with Songkran during my first water battle, I certainly had then. He stayed and chatted for a bit before he ran off with his friends. We found other people to dance with for a little longer before we began our walk back. On the way we found the hardcore Songkraners, the ones who threw water out of buckets with such force it actually felt painful to receive it.

My favourite aspect of Songkran was the universal joy. Regardless of whether people were splashing or being splashed, smiles adorned their faces. It could be easy to be a party pooper during this festival and get annoyed with the constant sopping nature of one's clothes, but everyone took it in stride. The whole country, minus those running accommodations, stores and restaurants, was on holiday for the next five days to celebrate this occasion year after year and it was so fun!

We got to check out the night market as well. The nice part about Songkran was that in theory, when the sun went down the waterworks would end until the following morning. Being dry felt like such a privilege with our clothes fitting the right way instead of sagging out of shape and off our bodies. Plus it was warmer when evenings cool set in.

At the night market I hunted for a cheap bag that could serve as my second luggage bag. I had only brought one with me when I arrived eleven and a half months ago, but in that time I'd collected a fair share of items that I intended to keep. I found one of the cheap nylon bags that many shop keepers used to transport their goods. It wasn't quite luggage but it was large and in charge with a zipper to boot. As long as the thing material didn't rip open before I made it to Canada, I'd be fine.

I also found the best pants. Thai pants, as we called them, were similar to fisherman's pants. These one were in the style of Aladdin pants that were only tight at the waist and just above the ankles and flowed everywhere else. They were collections of different bright fabrics and essentially rainbow pants. I had every intention of wearing them to the folk music festival I planned to attend during the summer.  

The following day followed a similar format. In the early evening of the final day of the festival, Chloe and I set off to give away our water guns. The guesthouse had a large collection of semi-functional ones left by other guests already and I would rather make some Thai child's day. It was harder than we anticipated as most children had already gone home. We were also a bit shy and weren't sure how to approach random children without seeming creepy.

I saw a young boy and his father was standing nearby. I walked up and greeted him. I used very broken Thai to ask if he wanted the gun. He looked confused so I asked his father and the boy accepted the water gun with a smile and a big "Khap khun krap," thank you. We found another boy to give Chloe's gun to as well. I put my bucket, which had served well to help us load the guns with canal water both days, back on a vendor's table so they could maybe sell it next year. I wanted to make the least impact I could.