As a schoolteacher, I’m used to celebrating New Year with countdowns, noisemakers, and maybe a quiet prayer for better behavior from my students.
But this past April, I experienced a different kind of New Year—one that drenched me in water, culture, and surprising insight.
I went to Thailand for Songkran, the Thai New Year, and returned with more than just soggy shoes and sunburnt shoulders. I came back refreshed in every sense of the word.
Chapter Trail
What Is Songkran? More Than Just a Water Fight
My first encounter with Songkran was in the bustling heart of Bangkok. I had barely checked into my guesthouse before I was handed a water gun and a waterproof pouch by the smiling receptionist. “You’ll need this,” she said with a grin. She was not wrong.
Khao San Road was a full-on water war zone. Locals, expats, tourists, even street vendors—everyone was armed and ready. Fire hoses blasted from balconies. Pickup trucks patrolled the streets with barrels of icy water and gleeful teens.
The first time someone sneak-attacked me with an ice bucket, I gasped. The fifth time, I laughed. By the tenth, I was filling my own bucket and joining the fun.
But even as we danced in puddles and exchanged splashes, there was something unifying about it. No one was exempt, no one was too old, too young, too foreign, or too important. We were all participants in a massive, joyful act of renewal.
Day 1: Bangkok – Baptism by Water (and Fire Hose)
My first encounter with Songkran was in the bustling heart of Bangkok. I had barely checked into my guesthouse before I was handed a water gun and a waterproof pouch by the smiling receptionist. “You’ll need this,” she said with a grin. She was not wrong.
Khao San Road was a full-on water war zone. Locals, expats, tourists, even street vendors—everyone was armed and ready. Fire hoses blasted from balconies. Pickup trucks patrolled the streets with barrels of icy water and gleeful teens.
The first time someone sneak-attacked me with an ice bucket, I gasped. The fifth time, I laughed. By the tenth, I was filling my own bucket and joining the fun.
But even as we danced in puddles and exchanged splashes, there was something unifying about it. No one was exempt, no one was too old, too young, too foreign, or too important. We were all participants in a massive, joyful act of renewal.
Day 2: Chiang Mai – Water, Temples, and Grace
In Chiang Mai, the tone shifted. The water fights still raged, especially around the old city moat, but I began to see the layers beneath the revelry.
On the morning of my second day, I visited Wat Phra Singh, one of the city’s most revered temples. Locals in traditional clothing arrived early, bringing flowers, silver bowls of perfumed water, and statues of the Buddha. I watched as elders showed children how to gently pour water over the Buddha’s hands, symbolizing the washing away of bad luck and the welcoming of purity.
Later that day, I was invited to a “Rod Nam Dam Hua” ceremony—a traditional Thai ritual where younger people pour scented water over the hands of their elders to ask for blessings and forgiveness. It was humbling and beautiful. The atmosphere was quiet, sacred, full of mutual respect.
I thought about how we celebrate New Year in the West—often loud, fast, and fleeting. This felt more mindful. A genuine reset.
The Buddhist Side of Songkran: Lessons in Letting Go
As a teacher, I’m drawn to lessons—even outside the classroom. And Songkran is rich with them.
At its core, the holiday reflects key Buddhist principles: impermanence, compassion, and cleansing. Just as we clean our homes to welcome the new year, Songkran invites us to clean our spirits.
Water becomes a metaphor—for letting go of anger, regret, old grudges, and unkind words. It’s not just about getting wet; it’s about washing the dust off your heart.
I took time to meditate in a small temple on the edge of Chiang Mai. Monks in saffron robes chanted softly, while locals knelt in quiet reverence. In that moment, I felt far from my usual world of ringing bells and faculty meetings. And yet, I felt more connected to my students, my family, and even myself.
What I’ll Bring Back to the Classroom
After Songkran, I returned to school with a tan, a thousand photos, and a whole new mindset.
I found myself more patient, more forgiving, more willing to laugh off the little things.
I even brought back jasmine-scented water and let my students take turns pouring it over their hands on the first day back—our mini version of a blessing ceremony. They thought it was weird at first, but then they smiled. And I smiled, too.
Final Thoughts: Why Everyone Should Experience Songkran (at Least Once)
Songkran isn’t just a festival—it’s a feeling. A celebration of life, change, and second chances. It’s playful and profound. Silly and sacred. Whether you’re a backpacker, a retiree, or a tired teacher looking for meaning in the madness, Songkran has something for you.
So if you’re ever in Thailand in April, don’t pack too many dry clothes. Leave your stress behind. Open your heart. And prepare to get gloriously, spiritually soaked.
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