Still Haven't Been Sold Into Sex Slavery: Songkran Part 2

Only in Thailand can different cities have different dates for national holidays. The followng weekend was Songkran in a town called Phra Phadaeng, a predominately Mon populated town (all I know is Mon is somewhere up in the northeast.) We had heard that this Songkran gets really wild every year. When Katie and I mentioned it to our Thai friends they looked terrified for us.

“They will try to feel your chest, it’s okay to hit them,” one said.

“They will rub mud all over you,” said another. “You tell them to get away very strongly.”

We were a bit more intrigued then deterred from this idea. And as luck would have it we had two OEG friends living in The Daeng. And so the next weekend we grabbed our water-tight money/camera bags and headed to The Daeng with the new farang teacher at Sunflower, Joe.

There are many reasons that this celebration was probably my favorite Songkran (poor Joe getting a surprise fat kiss from a lady boy on his first weekend in Thailand being high on the list.) Chiang Mai was crazy-party-madness everywhere. While the Daeng was quite mad it was traditional madness. Along with our OEG friends we were the only farang in the town, which meant we were very popular. While water was still thrown everywhere and hoses were still conveniently placed the local tradition was to spread a watery clay all over everyone you saw. It’s blessing is similar to the one my kiddos received from their elders with the blessed water. The parade was more Macy’s Day then spiritual Buddha. The procession began with a float carrying a blue-grassy band instead of traditional Thai music. The king and queen’s float came next, followed by the beauty queen float. Balloons and crazy paper-mache statues were attached to each float carry Buddha's from the different temples. And unlike Chiang Mai, the parade only lasted about half an hour. The people weren’t nearly as grabby as I’d been warned and overall, they enjoyed the farang making a spectacle out of ourselves as we rubbed clay over everyone as they rubbed it on us (one of our co-workers even saw us on the news.)

Katie, Joe and I

Perhaps it’s because I like being surrounded by Thai’s having a crazy time on their holiday instead of crazy farangs that I enjoyed this celebration the most. Clay was rubbed over almost all uncovered parts of my body. The day was blissfully hot instead of chilled, though the buckets of ice water didn’t feel nearly as refreshing as I thought they would. The Mon people were going nuts. Even after the parade in every driveway and alley they were blaring music and throwing water and clay at each other. Every place we passed while walking around people tried to wave us over for food or drinks. Amongst all the madness you could still feel a bit of the gentle tradition of washing away the old and welcoming in the new. Although when we finally made it back to the dorms and stepped into the shower to clean off the crusted clay the only thing I felt was finally dry after weekends of being soaked to the bone.