Songkran :)

“So they just throw buckets of water on us?” I don’t get it. 

I pictured myself stepping outside of Uniloft and getting hit with a quick shot or two from some people walking down the street with water guns. Then I pictured myself drying off. 

I really didn’t get it. 

Now that I have experienced Songkran, I have a much better idea for what it is about. The “quick shot or two” of water spritzes that I’d imaged is more like the non-stop bombardment of hose-water, buckets, and water guns, and the “drying off” is more like the continuous bombardment of hose-water, buckets, and water guns. 

From the second you approach Tha Pae Gate and the streets surrounding the canal, which is the main location for Songkran in Chiang Mai, you can expect nothing less than pruned fingertips and a mop of wet hair. 

Now as you’re probably wondering what this so called “Songkran” is exactly, I should probably provide a bit more of an explanation. Songkran is the celebration of the Thai New Year. It is celebrated from the 13th to the 15th of April, and often a few days before and after. But basically, it is one giant water festival. 

To give you a better idea, imagine those foam parties in college or the like. Then image the foam, plus water, plus every single person from young children to senior citizens joining the party. 

To give you an even better idea, have a look at this clip: http://vimeo.com/64151232 (video cred to Ashley Vega).

Behind the scenes of all the liberating, carefree, water-throwing fun is the original reason for this type of celebration. The water is meant as a symbol to wash away all bad fortune and it is intended to cleanse each person it’s thrown upon so that they have a fresh start to the new year. 

But what really makes it amazing is seeing all the faces of the people getting into it. And when I say that it was everyone, I legitimately mean e v e r y o n e. 

I was right about one thing: when I walked out of Uniloft I did get targeted by some water guns. But it was a lot more than just that. 

The family owned convenient shop on Soi Jet turned into a family owned human car wash. 

From the top of the street, I saw two little boys sitting in their bathing suits, hovering over a giant bucket of water, a water gun in each hand. I evaluated the mischievous looks on their faces as I neared my first assault of Songkran 2013. 

But before I even reached their location, the old woman who works the register jumped out from behind a wall and devoured my head, shoulders, and whole attire with an ice-cold shower of overflowing bucket-water. 

After a moment of recuperation from the shock, I wiped the droplets from my eyes and squinted through my saturated lashes, only to see an entire group of them laughing and coming at me with more buckets. Mom, dad, grandpa, little boy, littler boy, a few neighbors I’d never seen before - they all had some sort of splashing device in their hands and the most youthful smiles across their faces. 

And suddenly the brief moment of frustration I’d felt from the initial blast evaporated, and I was soaked again, but this time with a new sense of liberation. I turned to my friends, who were also drenched from head to toe, and I burst into a fit of laugher. I realized that from this point forward, the only thing I could expect was a joyous, relentless, free-for-all. 

The best part about Songkran was that it united all of us - the little kids, the adults, my USAC companions, the tourists who came to join the celebration. Everyone met at a common grounds, a grounds where laughing-it-off was the only acceptable response to all the chaos that flooded the streets. 

What do you do when a random stranger runs up to you and pelts your eyeballs with a full-forced, triple-spouted water machine? You wipe the water away and smile... and then of course get him back. 

The normal daily operations of Chiang Mai had taken an intermission. Not a single street vendor on Suthep was in sight. Even the restaurants were closed down for the weekend. Every person of the city abandoned their habitual lifestyle to join in on fun and games. 

What a cool way to celebrate the New Year, I thought, when the weekend eventually came to an end. As I laid my sopping wet shorts and tank tops off the balcony to dry, I realized that in a way, I actually did feel that I had been cleansed. 

I felt rejuvenated, pleasantly reminded of the care-free and life-loving spirit I had when I was little. 

It’s sad that as we grow up, that spirit gets lost behind so many worries and concerns: I have to finish my paper. I gotta send this email before noon. I’m gonna miss the bus if I don’t hurry! You don’t see a 6-year old with that type of anxiety.

Of course, I’m no longer a 6-year old. I am now a 21-year old with a lot more responsibility. But just because we have more responsibilities doesn’t mean we should forget the life-loving spirit that exists innately within all of us. 

Sometimes, at the end of the day, we should remind ourselves that we all share a common grounds to play on. 

This morning I walked down Soi Jet to get breakfast. On my way I passed the small convenient store. The little boys were eating soup on the plastic table outside, and the woman who runs the register was sweeping out front. She looked up at me, and I looked back, smiling at the memory from the days before. Though I still don’t know her name, I see her differently. Though we still don’t speak the same language, we share a common bond. She returns the smile, and I can tell that we are both silently reliving the same memory as I pass. 

Homesickness

I miss my couch. I miss sinking into its fluffy red cushions, gripping the remote control with one hand and patting my sleeping puppy’s head with the other. My mom is making a smoothie in the kitchen behind me, filling the blender with all her immunity-boosting secret ingredients. The TV has what seems to be an unlimited amount of English channels, and I flip through them mindlessly as I enjoy the last few spoonfuls of my granola and yogurt breakfast. All I have to do today is take Sam for a walk in Rockwood, and I can’t wait to inhale the smog-less summer breeze fresh off the Hudson River. 

I miss the streets of Pleasantville. I miss driving in my car with the windows down, music blasting through the speakers. I see the familiar faces of my friends’ parents walking to the farmers market on Sunday morning. I wave and smile for a brief second, and then the traffic light ignites in the green circle, indicating my turn to pass through the busy intersection. My foot presses into the pedal, and the breeze takes my hair from the sides of my face and wisps it behind my shoulders. 

I miss my routine. I miss waking up in the morning, taking a warm shower and picking out an outfit for work. I choose the one decent-fitting pair of black business pants and retrieve a light pink, ruffled Express shirt from my closet. I pour my coffee into a to-go jug and rummage through the key basket for the pair that fits my 1999 Mitsubishi Montero SUV. Will that car ever break down? I knock on wood as it jolts backwards out of the garage. Fortunately, the car takes me safely to and from my job, and I return home a little after 6 feeling productive and accomplished. 

When I look out my bedroom window, I see the Saw Mill River Parkway dotted with moving cars. The green mountainside has vanished and a concrete river has taken its place. The street vendors have manifested into established buildings, and the stray dogs have been leashed by morning joggers. The placid and colloquial smiles of the locals have gotten lost in muted, hasty conversation with the faces of wristwatches as they scurry towards the arriving Metro North. 

It’s a different life here, for sure. There are things I miss, and there are things I will miss. 

It’s been over three months now, and the inevitable thoughts of the comfort and familiarity of home have crept into my mind. At times, they tease me with brief interludes from my current life here in Chiang Mai. The pile of white rice on my plate looks up and winks at me as it transforms into a bowl of my Mom’s spaghetti and meatballs. I drop my fork and sigh, reviewing the distance of time between now and my flight back to New York. 

But when I turn back to my meal, the stir-fried morning glory beside the rice is stretching its fists into the air. It inhales deeply, then relaxes back onto the plate between some Thai chilies, and a rejuvenating smile spreads across its face. It’s contagious. And suddenly I’m smiling too.

The other night I talked to my sister. I updated her on all the amazing things I’ve been doing here between traveling and classes and meeting people. But I also confessed the distracting battle of homesickness I’ve begun to fight with time. “It’s probably just a mood,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll snap out of it.”

“Yeah that’s true. We’re always living anxious for the future. And then it comes. And we are anxious again about the future.” 

I think there was more logic to Jaime’s response than to my “it’s just a mood” reasoning. And suddenly, I began to think differently. I only have one month left. Where did the time go? Suddenly, I want to hold on to every moment because soon my plate of spaghetti and meatballs will wink at me and warp into the savory stir-fried morning glory from Penny’s Restaurant on Soi Jet. 

But I won’t be walking down Soi Jet to Penny’s restaurant. I will be watching TV on the couch in my living room. 

And right now, I am sitting at my desk in my little apartment in Uniloft. Sophie is in the living room, laughing at some scene from “This Means War” playing on the TV. My Angkor Wat painting is mounted on the wall above me, and to its right is the dried out rose I got one night at Zoe in Yellow. The wrapper of my sticky-rice burger from 711 is making my room smell like onions. I should probably throw that away.

I hear and think a lot about what it means to "be present." But truly living that way is harder than it seems. I'm only being present when my thoughts align with where I am and what I am doing this moment. And I know that when this moment passes, and the future comes, I will miss this point in my life like crazy. I'll start to look back, and once again disconnect from the present.

The point is that this is where I am now. And that’s all we have. Now. I can waste my thoughts on the past or the future, but I exist in neither. 

I am only living in the now, so now is the time to be alive. And I guess I needed to lose a few battles of homesickness for it to kick my butt with that very little but very important reminder.

Bangkok

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKacS3nYXdE

We decided to prompt our weekend in Bangkok with a movie night featuring some of our favorite actors in some of our favorite places. No, Thailand is not pronounced “Th - island.” No, Chiang Mai is not 20 minutes outside of Bangkok. No, Buddhist temples do not look like P.F. Chang’s. But yes, Bangkok is as crazy as it looks. 

On Thursday night we hopped on a bus to Bangkok, but for the first time, we planned to stay more than two hours. We arrived the next morning (Chiang Mai is 10 hours outside of Bangkok) and took a taxi to Khaosan Road. 

Khaosan Road is commonly known as the backpacker’s road in Bangkok. It is a hodgepodge of people from all over the world, bargain-hunting in countless street shops, feasting on fried spring rolls and pad thai, and shuffling in and out of the plethora of hotels, restaurants, and travel agencies that sandwich the road.

Khaosan Road, Bangkok

We decided to spend our weekend in the D&D Inn, “The Best on Khaosan Road.” The fifteen dollars a night was a splurge from our usual travel budgets, but we decided to make an exception for this weekend. The spacious room, couch and plasma TV, on top of the rooftop bar, pool and view of Bangkok were definitely worth the extra money. What’s it gonna be like when $15 buys me a cheeseburger in New York? 

The first day we spent exploring the city. We went to the MBK Shopping Center, one of the biggest malls in Thailand. Then we went to see the Royal Palace, Wat Pho and the Reclining Buddha, which were great for pictures but I’m starting to wonder when people will get sick of me posing in front of temples. In my defense, it’s not every day in America that you drive by a bright yellow, pure white, or intricately designed Buddhist sanctuary filled with monks.

Reclining Buddha 

Since Alex and Sage had suffered a sleep-less night being pelted by water droplets from the bus’s broken air conditioner the night before, we decided that 7 o’clock was the perfect time for a much needed nap. Once we were re-charged and ready to go, we headed onto Khaosan Road for our first night out in Bangkok. 

Fortunately, no one woke up in an elevator. No one got any face tattoos, and no one shaved their head. I may have misspoke earlier; Bangkok is not as crazy as it looks. But it sure as hell is a cool place to be. 

The next day, we treated ourselves to a sleep-in morning, late brunch, and day of rooftop sunbathing. In the late afternoon, we headed back onto the street for some shopping. I have been in Thailand for over three months now, and I have faced numerous shopping temptations at the malls and night markets in Chiang Mai. But I have been strong! I have saved my money for important things like food, housing and travel. 

Until I met Khaosan Road. 

It was like I was a frantic puppy let off the leash in a field of cats. I was making it rain in every store I stepped foot in. Sundress? - sure! Four tank tops - why not? Necklace, earrings, sandals, tee shirt - yep, just throw it in the bag.

And 3 hours later, I had successfully emptied my wallet and overflowed my backpack with a new wardrobe of clothing and accessories for home. It had to happen eventually. And the shopping in Bangkok is just amazing. No buyer’s remorse whatsoever. 

My shopping-high was a nice way to start off our second evening. We dressed in some of our nicest clothes and headed off to Sky Bar, the world’s highest open air bar that overlooks the skyline of Bangkok City. This was probably my favorite part of the weekend. The view was seriously breathtaking - a serene reminder of the big picture mankind has created and the tiny yet powerful contribution we have all made to it. 

Looking out over the tops of all the tall buildings that reached up into the sky, I experienced a brief flashback of New York City. The twinkling lights. The constant energy. The city that never sleeps. While I do consider myself more of a nature person, I don’t think I could ever get sick of the invigorating feeling that lives only in the streets of metropolitan areas. 

On the last day, we decided we should ride the Skytrain, but we really didn't have anywhere in particular to go. No, we just wanted to ride it. So when I asked the Thai Metro Operator which direction provided a more “scenic route,” he blinked at me through perplexed eyes, wondering why a tourist would ride a train with no destination in mind. 

But it worked out in our favor. We ended up at one of the piers on the river. So next thing you know, we’re in the back of a long-tail boat, drifting down the Chao Phraya River and touring Bangkok from the water. It was a great way to end our trip. I snapped a few pictures of everything from skyscrapers to temples to slums, and soaked in the last little bit of cultural diversity that Bangkok has to offer. 

Chao Phraya River, Bangkok

Our weekend in Bangkok was a success, and we made it back to Chiang Mai without losing any teeth, fingers, or members of our group. It was a great little weekend vacation and I'm glad I finally checked it off my bucket list.