Songkran (Thai New Year)
Did I take a lot of pictures? No. But why Bill? Because my phone was wrapped in a sandwich baggy. Just imagine a futuristic post-apocalyptic world where roads and highways are choked with marauding pickups that contain 55-gallon drums filled with water. A place where warlords use teenagers and children to rain terror on unsuspecting pedestrians. Run for your life when two ‘war trucks’ pass each other, all hell breaks out. No one is safe. People line up on the side of the street next to their barrel of cold water and armed with a bucket. Scooter driving by, aim for the face. Cute girl, you guessed it, aim for the bikini top. Tourists, if you are either brave or stupid to be outside, all are fair game.
A guy on YouTube really captured the spirit of the water fight during Songkran. I usually only post with my camera, but he did a super job and was much more willing to get wet and not use an $800 iPhone. I highly encourage you to go here Songkran Madness in Chiang Mai Thailand 2024 (youtube.com)
What is Songkran really about?
Songkran is one of the most important days in the Buddhist calendar. It celebrates the new year. Statues of Buddha are bathed with flower water. Monks and elders’ hands are gently washed by the younger. Many people leave the big cities to return home to spend time with family. The festival is all about family, purification, reflection and rejuvenation. The latter is represented by water which is believed to wash away negativity and even problems in general.
In its origin, Songkran was not about the giant nationwide water fight. On New Year’s Day it is a time for family. But the water portion of the celebration, for better or worse, over the last few decades has developed into something on a much grander scale. All cities, towns and villages celebrate Songkran but Chiang Mai has specifically developed into a worldwide destination for tourists to come and act like mad-people. It’s fun for sure. It certainly has a lighthearted and friendly spirit. But now, by day three as I’m writing this, I am ready for normal times. Even going to the grocery store is fraught with danger. Chiang Mai has become ground zero for the nationwide water fight. Here it lasts five days. I mentioned foreigners traveling here, but it is the locals, who outnumber foreigners 1000 to 1, who truly embrace the celebration.
So, if you are outside Sacred Heart Cathedral dressed in your Sunday best clothes after mass waiting for a taxi, are you safe? Apparently not, because a passing pickup truck full of revelers nailed me with a bucket of water squarely in the chest. I thought I heard a group cheer emanating from that truck as they sped off looking for other victims. Happy Songkran!!!
Mani Pedi for the Common Man...
I think she was measuring so she could figure out how to lop off my toe. It was that far gone.
The service is aptly called “Baby Feet”. That is exactly what I got. I’ll be back in a couple of months. Sometimes life is grand, especially when you are being ‘worked on’.
I will remind you that I’m a man. I can build you kitchen cabinets, work on your car, and love steak and potatoes. This world of beauty parlors, curlers and mani-pedis is not ‘normal’ for me. Though I do enjoy foot rubs or any of this sort of endeavor, I’m more than willing to experiment in the mani-pedi world.
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Ok it is kinda weird but oddly pleasurable. At times she had what seemed like a 10-grit metal file going at my rough spots on my tender feet. There were shavings all over the towel she had on her lap. A thousand skin slices that looked like toenails. Sorry for the description. It seemed to be raining scuzz on that poor towel. I pondered taking a photo, but some things you just can’t just unsee. You are welcome! Other times the combination of warm water and massage was heaven-like.
Then came the thick goo applied all over my feet. When she reached for the Saran wrap it seemed we were going down a dark, dark path. Maybe some horrid scene out of some BDSM flick was about to happen. But luckily, only my feet began the mummification process.
She keeps re-squirting some clear liquid from a bottle on my toenails. In my imagination it is some kind of diluted acid. In reality it may just be water. Acid makes this narrative more masculine. A ‘biker’ might have acid sprayed on his feet… yeah, I’m starting to come around.
They have a giant 5-foot, horrific poster out in front of the business that drew me in the first time. Yes, this is my second time here. The poster has a ‘before and after‘ photo of heels. The before is a ‘cigarette-pack-warning- label’ level of graphic. If I had a heel that looked that bad, I think I’d opt to just have it removed, just snip it off. My assumption is that the before picture is from a cadaver. The after pic is probably from some foot model in Bangkok. So, were they just laying side by side? Chilling.
Outside on the busy street I see some Koreans pointing at the graphic foot poster. Nodding solemnly and discussing it with each other, I assume, in hushed tones. Yeah, I hear ya. The cadaver speaks volumes.
I had my first 'real' beer in 6 months....
Beer: The final frontier. These are the voyages… wait…sorry, wrong beginning….
How locals drink beer and how I now drink beer may be different from how you drink beer. The style, yes putting ice cubes in beer is a style, that only works here. I’ve tried it in Seattle, and nope, it just does not work. I am a beer drinker. I know how to make it, I know what goes into it and my opinions, like everyone else’s, are strong as they should be. Follow along with this scenario:
Imagine if you will a world where it has been 105 degrees every day for almost 3 weeks. You are sitting in an outdoor restaurant, and it feels like someone has pointed a blow dryer at you all day long. A confident and seasoned waitress, who looks a lot like Lucy Liu, places a bottle of Singha beer on your table and says, “You want ice with that?” It wasn’t a question. It was a test. She was asking: Who are you? Are you just visiting? Are you just a temporary Farang? Or are you one of us? You have already made up your mind and try to speak. But after a day of walking in the world’s worst air pollution has caught up to you, your tongue is dry and swollen. You succumb, acquiesce, you just plain give in. In your parched and weakened state you can only conjure up a nod. Wordlessly she adeptly places a glass full of ice next to the Singha and silently seeps back into the bar like a ghost. It is up to you to fulfill your beer destiny. The decision was made a millennium ago for you. Just pick up the beer and pour it in the glass full of ice.
Later that same week you walk into the outstanding French restaurant Maison, out of the triple digit weather, and order food for ‘take-away‘. (BTW Maison is air conditioned) You plan to have a beer as you are waiting. This time something is different; you can feel it in the way an arthritic person predicts the weather. The waitress senses your need and leads you back to the inner sanctum of the restaurant where special beers are stored. You find yourself standing in front of a ‘fridge with 23 different choices of bottled beer. At first, after drinking standard SE Asian beers on ice for 6 months, you are disoriented and overwhelmed by the ‘fridge full of beers. You feel like a confused wildebeest that was being herded towards the cliff by drums. She said, “This is the beer you need”. You nod your head for there was nothing else to do. You walk back to your perch on a table near the front and she slowly poured her choice of beer made locally. Did you hear me? Locally. At first, you are skeptical. I brought the glass up to your mouth to take a sip, but the aroma took over. “My god man, this is a real beer”, you exclaim to no one. Fortunately, by this time my waitress had sauntered away, leaving you to your own devices, your own path, your own discovery. Like a madman you drank, and you drank, indeed. For me, it immediately reminded me of a Mac and Jack’s, and also of beers I had personally made at home. Fresh, clean, with an interesting malt nose. I now have a new favorite beer. Will I return to Singha over ice? Hells, yes, Its 105 ‘gall darn’ degrees outside. But do I have a place to go and groove with a real beer? Yes, sir. I do.
Pictured above is maybe my favorite restaurant in all of Chiang Mai. It also happens to be the closest restaurant to our condo. This is a trouble, but so far, we have only gone a handful of times. It is a little spendy… I have made myself laugh. I just looked up the cost of last night’s dinner for us. It was $18. That included the beer while I waited. I guess I now have a new definition of an expensive dinner. 🙂
This is where I can go ‘groove’ with a beer.
You there, I see you! The one towards the back. Yes, you the hipster with the beard. You amuse me with your incoherent ramblings. Hear me, hear me now. I know your path; I know your meager beginnings. I see your destiny! Why do you wear the shirt of a car mechanic with the name Stewart embroidered on the name tag? Do women dig this? I should think they dig not. Stand tall. Stand tall, man! Shed your beer beliefs. Shed the ways of old. Cast aside that bitter IPA. Throw down the ways of the ancient ones. Buy a $1200 plane ticket to Thailand. Find yourself an Airbnb for 2 weeks. Immerse yourself in the ways of beer on ice then return home to proselytize your newfound skill of drinking the beer of SE Asia.
Note: beer on ice started here in this part of the world several decades ago when refrigeration was a challenge and a couple of ice cubes solved the problem. Imagine several cases of beer stacked in the back of an open-air bar. No need to drink a 94-degree Budweiser. (Geez, can you imagine?) Back in the day, you say to the bartender “Do you have a chunk of ice for my beer” It just became habit and stuck.
