It might have been inside the in-flight magazine on my return from Phuket where I read about a common Songkran sentiment; the first day is amazing, the second day is not so much fun, and by the third day, you're sick and tired of water being thrown at you.
I returned to Silom for the second day of New Year festivities, and found things much tamer than the day before. This did not prevent my being drenched, however, especially when I made the decision to make the long walk back to my hostel from the Skytrain in a futile effort to dry off. What I found was an even more enthusiastic bunch of locals eager to douse me, spotting me from down the block, and all smiles as they barreled towards me with buckets and hoses. I did my best to retaliate with my water gun, but it made little impact. It became comical. On more than one occasion, I would be ambling along, and an unexpected barrage would come from the back of a pickup truck, soaking me with an entire 20-gallon trash can full of water. I managed to spray the tuk-tuk driver and a couple of unsuspecting guests as they came out of the hostel, and felt like a kid again doing battle with handfuls of children in the streets. I actually enjoyed running the gauntlet back more than joining the crowd in Silom.
When I returned, Shaun and John, two Okies touring Southeast Asia, were just checking in. My appearance merited laughter from the staff and curiosity from the guests. That night, Shaun and John wanted to experience the celebration as well, and being newer to the Bangkok area than myself, asked if I’d join them. I hadn’t really planned on going back out, but it was hard to resist splitting the cab fare three ways and seeing what Silom had to offer after sunset. What we walked into was an organized chaos far exceeding that of the daytime crowd. The night owls were almost exclusively locals, and we were shoulder to shoulder in a slowly churning mass of humanity unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The powder was more prodigious, and ended up in my eyes and ears. Someone slapped some sort of menthol mixture on my face, and for a few minutes, I was in my own Aqua Velva hell, convinced some malfeasant had rubbed acid on me. Like at Bonnaroo, I wasn’t sure if the pasty puddles I plodded through were contaminated with pee. But eventually, there was no choice but to let go of my worries and let loose. Having John and Shaun there made it all the more fun, and the tipsy Thais we met were nothing but nice, and went crazy when we started shouting the Songkran salutation, pronounced something like "Sue wah tee pee mai!"
After such an exhausting evening, I surprised even myself when I went out on the third morning of the New Year. But this time, I really couldn’t be bothered. Locals hosed me down, I didn’t flinch. Worn out and lethargic from the triple-digit temps, I made an early return and napped by the pool.
With my tee-shirt so caked in flour and mud that it was literally stiff as a board, my girlfriend Jill suggested it’d be less trouble to replace it with a souvenir shirt, since I’d had yet to buy one anywhere. It made a good excuse to get out on my last day in Thailand, and like my first day, I covered a lot of ground. I took the Chao Phraya ferry again, but this time, it wasn’t as crowded as before and therefore more relaxing. Enjoying the ride, I accidentally went a stop too far, and made a long sweaty walk through an area I’m glad I didn’t miss, near the Royal Palace. As I cavorted through the city, I kept thinking of Tolkien: “All who wander are not lost.”
Ironically, my time spent lost that day happened while looking for a souvenir shirt. I found a shopping center in my Lonely Planet guide called MBK, and pictured a manageable market with open-air stalls. What I got was the largest mall I’ve ever seen. After finding a Chang beer tee written only in Thai, and having an excellent lunch at a Japanese place, I headed for what I thought was the exit. As I took an escalator downstairs, a guy was handing out flyers for the Madame Tusseaud’s Wax Museum nearby. I walked for more than a half-hour, only to find myself back at the same guy in the same place next to the escalator. I didn’t even know how I’d gotten back upstairs. The cap came loose on my bottled water and I spilled it all over the busy corridor, and then helped a lady sop it up with old newspaper. I was tempted to sit in my mess and start screaming for Mommy.
Thankfully, I made my way out into the street eventually, and opted for the long (water-free) walk back from the Skytrain, if nothing than to savor my last few hours in Bangkok. Now, I’m on a flight to New Delhi, and the little screen in the back of the chair in front of me tells me we’re over Kolkata. The descriptions of India I’ve heard have run the gamut of spiritually satisfying to sublimely scary. For me, I’m guessing it will be somewhere in between.
Thailand is the sort of place that is drastically different than home, yet easy to feel at home in. And although I can’t be 100% sure of the sincerity 100% of the time, it truly is the “Land of Smiles”. It’s a place I certainly wouldn’t mind visiting again…but next time, maybe during winter, or the closest thing they have to winter.
