Songkran Festival

Imagine a nation at civil war. The bloodiest battle imaginable, with every man, woman, and child engaged in combat. Now, within your mental picture, replace the bullets with water and welcome to the Songkran Festival.

Celebrating Thailand's New Year, the country-wide water fight is derived from the practice of sprinkling others with the fragrant water used to bless buddha statues. Given that it's the hottest part of the year, what I can imagine started out as delicate flicking has now degenerated into the rabid desire to absolutely soak any person or inanimate object that crosses your path. And it's a blast.

On the first day of the three day festival, we loaded up the back of Step Ahead's pickup. Pastor Dton was behind the wheel and several young, local children that Step Ahead works with were overjoyed to ride in the back along with two garbage cans full of water. Well water and a healthy dose of food coloring. We were dishing out orange, but we had more than enough purple, red, green, and blue thrown back in our direction. There's also the widespread practice of 'chalking' people, which is based off the Buddhist monk's use of chalk. I would end the day painted in the stuff, as the Thais will run up to you and either assault you with makeshift-chalk in the form of baby powder or outright plaster you in dyed paint-chalk mixture.

So it was without delay that we took off, the smiling kids, Bailey, Kendra, Gai, and I all stationed in the back ready to rock. Our plan was to head into town and drive down the strip of buildings that constitute Bang Niang and Khao Lak. You would see a smiling group of people waiting along the roadside up ahead, armed with some buckets, chalk, a hose, and a small arsenal of squirt guns. Pastor Dton slows the truck and it is on. Both sides battle, each trying to leave the other more saturated then themselves, and after a short altercation we drive on to the next ambush. The process of forcefully exchanging water then repeats itself with just as much exuberance.

That's when we felt it. What did you feel, you ask? The joy of communal festivity? The cross-cultural unity and companionship of the holiday?

No. Ice water. Lots and lots of ice water.

The most dastardly had laced their water with icy coldness and it was like bringing a gun to a knife fight. I soon realized that, exposed as I was in the bed of the pickup truck, there was nowhere to run and left it up to fate as I engaged in a wet version of Russian roulette. On our pass through Khao Lak, much louder screams than normal led me to turn in Kendra's direction to see a young man, smiling maniacally, pouring a massive bucket of ice water down on top of her. I immediately knocked the bucket away with a quick jab and we pulled away at the same moment, but I flashed the guy a quick smile so he'd know it was alright.

For me, at least.

After our pass through town we headed out to Bangsak beach, where a big festival was brewing with lots of food carts and many people camping out in the grass or playing out in the surf. We hopped out of the truck, rung out our soaked clothing, and snatched up some delicious, very inexpensive treats for lunch. We then went down to the beach to play in the ocean.

As mid-afternoon hit we loaded up in the truck to make our way back. Riding in the bed of the truck, cheerful cries and laughter all around you, looking at the forest of beautiful palm trees and feeling the warm sun and cool breeze fight over which can make you more comfortable, you realize that home can be anywhere and you finally feel ice-water-to-the-crotch! Oh! Oh no! How could they simultaneously hit my inner thighs and down my back?! Ah man, that's cold.