THAILAND: TALES OF THE TRIGGER-HAPPY

TO MARK THE TRADITIONAL NEW YEAR, CROWDS TAKE TO THE STREETS ARMED WITH WATER PISTOLS, SUPER SOAKERS AND BRIMFUL BUCKETS, READY TO DO BATTLE IN THE WORLD’S WETTEST FESTIVAL, SONGKRAN. WORDS: DOUG LOYNES

With my finger still hovering over the trigger of my weapon, I wipe the sweat from my brow as the morning humidity presses down upon me. Across the road, I catch sight of a market seller scrambling to take cover. He meets my gaze and I shoot him a tight, furtive nod. In return, he holds up three fingers. Three hostiles? I scan the perimeter. Nothing. I gesture for more information.

Now he holds up two fingers. Again, I steal a glance down the road but I see no sign of any threat he could be alluding to. And then, slowly, he shows me the reverse of his hand, leaving just one finger extended. The middle finger. By the time I’ve turned to face my three grinning assailants, it’s already too late and I’ve been doused with an industrialsized bucket of freezingcold water.

Every year in Thailand, thousands of people take to the streets for the Songkran Festival — welcoming in the Thai New Year with three straight days of wellmannered watery warfare. Falling at the end of the country’s dry season, a national water fight festival certainly o†ers welcome respite during a period in which temperatures can reach 45C, but behind the mayhem lies a very traditional Buddhist sentiment.

For centuries, the Thai people have gathered during Songkran to splash water over their friends and families, believing that this practice will wash away their bad luck from the previous year so they may enter the new year with good fortune on their side. I therefore took great comfort in the knowledge that I was about to be cleansed of all misfortune as I stepped out of my tuktuk upon arrival in Bangkok, only for my wallet to be promptly blasted out of my hand by a sixyearold armed with a Super Soaker so big he had to fire it from his shoulder, as if it were a bazooka.

Armed only with a poxy water pistol, I spent most of Songkran cowering in various hideyholes, which allowed me ample time for reflection. Western influence has certainly flexed its capitalist muscles in Thailand, with American food chains now outmuscling traditional street vendors at every corner and more 7Elevens springing up than you can shake a Slurpee at. One might even argue that the Songkran

Festival itself has cashed in its own cultural significance for an event that better appeals to the masses of tourists that descend upon Thailand each year. And yet, as I watch an elderly gentleman cackle in manic glee as he rains water balloons down upon a family of unsuspecting tourists, Thailand’s enduring appeal becomes clear.

Sure, visitors flock to Thailand to find themselves in the foothills of Chiang Mai, typically before going on to lose themselves at the infamously heinous Full Moon

Party. But it is the people of Thailand they remember and return for. A warm, funloving people who take pride in allowing strangers to share in their ways. Water and all.