This is an excerpt from the Going East book that I’m working on. This is a story based upon our experiences riding in Southern Thailand during Songkran. There were very few tourists in this part of Thailand, which made the experience feel that much more authentic.

As I work on the Going East Book, I will share more stories of our travels. Subscribe to have the latest stories delivered directly to your inbox.

April 13, 2009

It’s stifling. A hot humid heat that makes the air feel heavy. Sweat isn’t dripping from me so much as it is pooling on me, sticking to my skin and failing to cool me down. I consider using some of the water in my water bottle to cool my head, but that water is precious. It is clean drinking water, and I need every drop of it to keep me hydrated while pedalling in this heat.  

We are slowly and steadily climbing a long hill. The incline isn’t steep, but the hill seems to be going on forever. I hear the rumbling of a vehicle. I look in my mirror. I can see that it is a pickup truck, slowly trudging up the hill. I am hopeful. Could this be one of those trucks carrying revelers celebrating Songkran, Thailand’s New Year? Held from April 13 to 15, during the country’s hottest month, Songkran transforms Thailand into a joyous, nationwide water festival. To the uninitiated, it looks like an enormous, good-humoured water fight, but the tradition is symbolic. Participants are often blessed with talc, believed by some to ward off the evil eye, followed by a drenching of water to wash away the past year and invite blessings for the year ahead. Maybe, just maybe, relief in the form of a cool splash is on its way. 

I shout out “water” as the vehicle approaches. I see garbage cans filled with water in the back, flanked by teenagers with buckets in hand and at the ready. As the vehicle passes, the kids toss bucketfuls of water at me. The water isn’t that cold, after all it is 40 degrees Celsius outside. However, it is wet and offers me a break from the oppressive heat. I shout out “Thank you” as they continue to their destination. This is what it is like to be riding our bikes in rural Thailand during Songkran.  

We started our day shortly after 8 am and it did not take long for our first Songkran experience – as we leave Phang-Nga a few teenagers on the side of the road are poised to douse us. As we passed, they threw buckets of water at us. Fortunately, the day was warm, and we dressed expecting to get wet. All our panniers are also waterproof, which allows us to relax as buckets of water are poured over us. We don’t need to worry about any of our gear getting wet.  

As we approach a cafe in a small town for lunch, there are kids at the side of the road to greet us. They ensure that we are well covered with heavily perfumed bright pink and blue talcum powder, followed up by a dousing of water. We enjoy watching them greet passers-by with the same ceremony of marking with talc and then dousing with water.  

We set out expecting a mostly quiet ride broken up by celebrations as we pass through towns—our map shows long stretches of road between small towns, suggesting little sign of civilization. For the first 20 km, we got what we were expecting. But after lunch, the landscape shifts, and we couldn’t go more than a kilometre without passing a house. Each small village or cluster of homes brought with it a lively gauntlet: kids, teenagers, and the young-at-heart armed with buckets and talc powder, ready to drench or paint us. At first, it was fun—dodging streams of water and laughing with strangers. But after three hours of this, the novelty wears off. The water isn’t cool enough to refresh me, it is, however, enough to soak me through. My shirt clings to my skin, and my wet bike shorts make me feel like I’m wearing a soggy diaper.  

As we approach Takua Pa, a bigger town and our evening destination, we see larger celebrations. The water buckets are bigger, and the talc comes in more colours. We ride past a group of people holding high pressure hoses that create a waterfall for us to ride under. As we get close to the town centre, I watch Scott pause to take his turn first being painted and then being doused. He moves ahead and stops waiting for me to take my turn. I pedal up slowly, resigned to another soaking. The water hits me, and I scream. It wasn’t the lukewarm splash I’d come to expect—it was a bucket of ice-cold water! Scott, of course, had seen a large block of ice being dropped into one of the buckets, so he knew it was coming and is laughing along with the crowd at my reaction. 

The unexpected chill jolts me awake, leaving me with that euphoric, tingling sensation you get when diving into a cold pool after a sauna. It is a moment of relief, and for a few minutes, I forget the heat and humidity of the day’s ride.  

By the time we reach the hotel, I am grateful to escape into the cool sanctuary of air conditioning. Finally, I peel off my soaked clothes, let my skin dry, and embrace the stillness after a day of chaotic, joyful mayhem.