Water, Water Everywhere!

I have been a busy little bee lately! Save for some random anonymous hate mail, everything is comin' up roses!

Earlier this week was the festival of Songkran, or Thai New Year, here in Thailand. During this three-day festival, everyone gets wasted and throws water all over everyone else. The idea is that the water washes your impurities and mistakes away so that you can start the new year with a clean slate. Here's hoping!

Earlier this week there were also massive protests and riots. I'll be honest: on Monday, the first day of the Songkran holiday, I barricaded myself indoors for most of the day with Gossip Girl (um, possibly the most addictive thing ever, except for maybe these, which I like to call "crack pretzels") as the streets raged with protesters. On Tuesday the protesters agreed to back off until after the Festival, so I finally mustered up the courage to head to Kao San Road--the place that all of the backpackers infest while in Bangkok, and apparently where the party is for Songkran.

Because of the protests, Bangkok was an eerie ghost town. There were hardly any people around, and as I neared Kao San the groups of soldiers became increasingly more dense, and their weapons seemed to be increasingly bigger. What is generally a boisterous festival with people throwing water out of cars and on street corners and from the SkyTrain overpass was replaced by a meek, haunted version. I felt oddly alone and uncomfortable, and was starting to think that maybe leaving Gossip Girl alone for the night (which was difficult to do....who can resist those come hither eyes??) was not such a good idea.

However, then I reached Kao San Road and was in no way prepared for the sheer volume of people creating a virtual wall of water. Shortly before turning onto Kao San Road itself I had purchased a little squirt gun. I figured that 50 baht was about my budget for that item, and I figured that a little squirt gun was better than no squirt gun at all. However, after turning down the main road I felt like the kid who gets dropped off at school in an Oldsmobile station wagon while everyone else pulls up in luxury SUVs. I was clearly ill-equipped, and my pithy trickle of water was no match for the high-powered rifles that other were packing. People were armed with all varieties of watery weapons: water guns in all shapes and sizes, including the extremely painful water rifles with the backpacks that provide a constant supply of water; bowls and buckets of ice cold water; hoses that sprayed a fine mist over the dancing, squirming, liquid crowd.

Within thirty seconds I was drenched. People were also carrying around buckets filled with a facial powder that had turned to mud and were slathering it all over anything that moved. Before long I had swallowed several gallons of dirty water and choked down several powdery mouthfuls of facial mud. And I'm not gonna lie: My interior monologue read like that of an old woman. My eyes! I just got over an infection! My stomach! I don't want any more infections there! I'm freezing! I'm going to catch my death! Why must these wild youngsters insist on hitting me IN THE EFFING FACE?!?! I felt like I was drowning in the middle of all of these people, all of this water, all of this mud, all of this loud and touchy-feely debauchery that is--to be honest--completely out of place in Bangkok. I finally retreated into the chipped paint nook of a bar and guzzled a Beer Chang to further prepare myself for battle. After the slight buzz started to kick in (I really couldn't tell you the last time I had a beer before then), I was all, "Game on, f*@#ers!!" and traded my tiny squirt gun for something more substantial. That was all well and good until a group of guys chased me down the street and pummeled me with water. That was a strange feeling. I was virtually blanketed in it, cramming myself up against the crowd in a pathetic attempt to shield myself from it. My ears were full of the screaming sound of the water, which muffled the sound of the group's laughter, but only just barely. I knew it was all in good fun, but it was a weird junior high flashback/Vietnam War vision that promptly robbed me of my buzz. Alrighty, it was time to step into another bar and refuel.

After guzzling my second beer I stood (er, swayed) on the curb and sprayed the crowd as they wandered past. I preferred this mode of water combat much more than running around in the trenches, but I quickly ran out of ammo, and upon being told that I would need to pay five baht to refuel, I decided that it was my cue to leave.

I slipped back into the crowd and began pushing my way down the street, determined to make it to the end of this viscous artery clogged with people. My mission had one objective only: to leave with all limbs, both eyes, and all important facial features intact. People still continued to slather me with mud and spray me in the face (seriously....the face? Have some manners!!), and I just kept on a-movin' with my water gun hanging by my side like some tragic vestigial organ. As I neared the end of the road a particularly aggressive mud slatherer (yes, I made that word up...you got a problem with it, take it up with my water gun....) took advantage of the fact that my eyes were closed and my face was in his hands and he planted a big smooch on my lips.

Alrighty. Now it was REALLY my cue to leave.

I bolted through the crowd the rest of the way, and once I rounded the corner there were no more water guns and there was no more mud and I could see again. There was a small dance party right there on the street with a group of locals and I stayed and danced for a bit. No one did any groping or grinding or touching or kissing. "Ah....I'm back in Bangkok again," I thought. After I had my fill of dancing I purchased a jasmine and orchid garland from a kid on the street, climbed onto the back of a motorcycle, and let the hazy quiet of Bangkok slide by me like an oily river.

Even though I am clearly OLD and BORING, I still had fun :)