Traveling into Songkran

My last morning in Malaysia began fairly early, as I was anxious to pack up and make it to the main station with time to spare for my first train to the border. Finding myself with a little time to spare, I did manage to fit in a quick breakfast before moving along into the day’s travel. I may have relaxed a little too long, as my final walk through the central station became more of a jog, with station attendants waving me along through gates and down long escalators without checking any tickets, just in time to get on the train before it started moving. I found my seat next to a kind Malaysian man with good English, on a trip to Thailand for business. We chatted for a little bit before settling in and trying to get a little sleep, with the occasional photo, as the train worked its way up the peninsula to the border. I was extremely appreciative of the AC and the space to move around on board. When we did arrive, everyone on the train filed off and into a large transit station on the Malaysian side of the border town of Padang Besar. Some people left to catch buses from the station, but those of us planning to cross the border were forced to wait for a while in the station for a gate to open and for the appropriate officials to (hopefully) wave us through. I was able to buy a ticket to the Thai transit hub of Hat Yai from the station and waited alongside a very nice Swiss couple who had been traveling for months. Swapping some travel stories, I was particularly happy to hear about their wonderful road trip along the California coast and their particular love of banana slugs. Hearing them talk about my home state as a favorite stop on their international tour made me a little nostalgic but also deeply appreciative to have grown up in such a special place! Eventually, we had to part ways, as they were planning to take an overnight train and weren’t allowed through immigration alongside me and all the others bound for Hat Yai. With my new haircut certainly not hurting, I made my way through the Malaysian exit checkpoint, walked down a corridor to the Thai side, and found myself being waved through with a new stamp, not having to show any documents besides my passport. Happy to have entered another country, I made my way over to my next train and got as comfortable as I could in the heat, eased only by a few rotating fans along the ceiling. This ride moved fairly slowly through the South Thailand countryside before pulling into the noticeably larger city of Hat Yai. Almost the second I stepped off the train with my backpack, a woman appeared asking if I needed a ride. The next day would be the Thai New Year (or Songkran), and I had read that Phuket, a large southern island popular among tourists, would be a good place to experience the celebration. With train tickets unavailable, I had also read that a bus would be my best chance at making the trip from Hat Yai to Phuket. Finding the train station far from the bus station, I asked the woman if she would take me there. Saying she would, I dashed to the nearest ATM to get a little cash, and I climbed onto her bike with my backpacks in tow. After a little ride across the town, she dropped me at a travel agent close to the bus depot. Tired, unable to understand just about any of the writing I saw, and hoping to book the next leg as quickly as possible, I asked if they could get me a ticket to Phuket. The man behind the counter spoke some English and assured me that he could get me there. For what I think was a reasonable price of 490 Baht, he handed me a slip of paper with some Thai writing and told me to return to the agency at 8:30 pm. In the meantime, he pointed out a night market where I could go to get dinner. They also agreed to watch my bags while I went to check out the town of Hat Yai for just a couple hours.

Hungry and excited to try my first real Thai food after a long day of travel, I indulged in several of the street food treats available at the night market. I had a small cone of fresh coconut ice cream, a couple pieces of “sushi” with cooked ham and chicken and some sort of sweet/spicy pickled vegetables over rice and nori, and my first taste of local mango and sticky rice. Everything was absolutely delicious and made even better for having gone without food for much of the day. Along the streets I was able to spot signs of the build-up to tomorrow’s holiday, children sat in the back of trucks with water guns and vats of water, and a few had already begun to splash and spray. After watching night fall over the beautiful city of Hat Yai, I noticed it was time to return to my travel agent and get ready for my bus ride. I returned to one woman behind the counter who I quickly realized spoke pretty much zero English. I showed her my ticket and she motioned for me to wait, so uncertain but trusting I made myself as comfortable as possible in the little open-air shop. Eventually, after more than an hour, she motioned to me to follow her and we crossed the street to the bus depot. She then pointed at a bus, I boarded and tried to confirm the destination with a bus attendant, who unsurprisingly also spoke no English. Too tired to doubt the destination and ready to relax for a little while, I boarded the bus and tried to get some sleep. I made some anxious location checks along the way, and though the bus took a little bit of an odd route (presumably to make its way to some other stops), it never strayed too far from the path to Phuket, so I remained pretty calm throughout the journey. When I did arrive in Phuket, I realized that the hotel I had hastily booked in Hat Yai was on the other side of the island (this is when I realized most Thai provinces are named after the largest/most prominent city, but such as in this case, the Phuket province contains Phuket town, but also many other cities). Even with our arrival a little past 4 am, there were energetic drivers ready and waiting to take us where we needed to go. For slightly more than the entire bus trip, I found a driver who would take me to the hotel, booked specifically for its 24hr check-in. When we finally got there, I was relieved and exhausted, but quickly realized that I had been dropped at a different hotel with a similar name. Luckily I found that I was within walking distance of the actual hotel, and shortly after I began my late-night/early-morning trek, another driver came by and offered a ride. Too tired to object to a faster route to bed, I took his offer and finally made it into the lobby of the correct hotel. I checked in as quickly as possible and after a quick shower collapsed into bed, ready for the next day’s festivities. I awoke with time to enjoy the hotel room for a little longer, getting another shower and a little time enjoying the large bed after I booked a hostel for the next few nights. After placing my booking I checked out and made my way towards the center of town and my new bed. As I moved it became readily apparent that the festival was in full swing. Water guns, hoses, and water-filled buckets paired with bowls stood at the ready as I walked down the street. Of course, carrying all my baggage made me a little resistant to the idea of getting soaked, and the pleading look I gave seemed to suppress a first salvo from a man standing in the street with his family. After that though, a truck bearing a number of young-looking children bearing water guns drove past and one or two of them got me before our eyes even met. This left me somewhat resigned to my fate, so several of the remaining people I passed gave me impressive dousings in the absence of any immediate reaction avoiding it. Ultimately I made it to my new hostel, still dry in spots and grateful to have mostly avoided any extremely busy streets. I checked in, placed my stuff in my new locker, and after getting my bearings headed back out to participate in the incredible festival. Excited to get my revenge, I was quickly convinced into buying a sizable water gun for what I’m certain was a remarkably inflated price. She then filled it up (for free!) and I set off into the world with my new weapon and plenty of willing opponents. Running into some people I had met at the hostel earlier, we all made it to the central walking street, Bangla Road, together. This was purportedly the epicenter for local fun and partying, and that was the distinct impression it gave off. Stands lined the streets offering up all sorts of snacks, most covered with foil or plastic but the brave few, including at least one tent with fried food, with wares completely exposed to the water fight. Other vendors sold water refills for guns, glasses, or waterproof phone/money holders for those (such as myself) who had neglected to bring them to the water-drenched party. The businesses were a mix of bars, massage parlors, small stores, and dance clubs. At one end of the road, the beach had a stage with live music and water spraying out over the crowd. People lounged up and down the beach and more food vendors lined the path along it. And of course, through it all, tourists such as myself shot water guns, shop owners sprayed hoses and dumped buckets, and everyone got wet. Every now and then, when passing people who mostly seemed Thai, they would reach over and touch my face with a hand covered in white or pink powder. This left colorful streaks that washed off easily with the next spray or splash. After exhausting my gun and finding a place that would fill it for free a little ways beyond the densest part of the party, I walked the street again, mostly just spraying people who would spray me first, on purpose or accidentally. After a little while of this, I found myself hungry so walked a little ways away to find a calmer place to get a bite to eat. After a much-needed meal and lots of water fighting, I found myself exhausted and so made the short walk back to my hostel for a little nap. I finally made it back out as the day was fading, got a small dinner, turned toward the road, and instantly got doused once again. Excited to experience the last of the first day, I enjoyed the festivities for a few more hours before retiring to the beach to dry off and close out the day. When I finally did make it back to my hostel I was exhausted and more than ready for a long night of sleep.

The next morning I was still tired, and took a few hours in the morning just for writing here. When I finally did make it out of the hostel, I found myself quite hungry and decided to indulge in a panang curry and papaya salad for brunch. It was all delicious and fresh, with the curry featuring some large green pea-like vegetable I didn’t recognize. After this I strolled over to the main road, and while it was still packed, I noticed a complete absence of anyone slinging water around. A little surprised, I asked around and learned that in more tourist-oriented places such as where I was, the festival only really lasts one day– for the full three day experience (or sometimes even more!) it is supposedly better to go to busy cities such as Bangkok or Chiang Mai. Still feeling tired and not entirely upset by the opportunity to stay dry outside, I spent the rest of the afternoon writing at the hostel before meeting up with a friend who I had first met in Malaysia, alongside a teaching friend of hers and her boyfriend who had recently joined her. We started off the evening by sharing a cup full of assorted bugs, fried and dressed with green onion and some soy-vinegar sauce by the stall’s proprietor. I tried a variety of small bugs, from grubs to grasshoppers to a decently sized cicada. None impressed me too much, the grubs had a little chew and everything else was fairly crunchy without too much substance, little flavor besides the sauce and seasoning that had been added. The exoskeletons were just about all that remained after frying most bugs, and they didn’t seem to break down much after a certain amount of chewing, leaving small flat pieces in the teeth and mouth. Thinking I would be unlikely to jump on the opportunity again anytime soon, I even agreed to have part of a giant water bug, an imposing insect (with some sharp bits!) that really seemed quite similar to the other larger bugs, mostly a crunchy shell without much substance or flavor shining through. Curious, I asked the vendor whether this was something she might ever eat, or if it was mostly just a tourist attraction. Without a direct answer, she smiled and laughed a little, seemingly confirming that her stall served more to astonish tourists than sustain the local people of Phuket. From the night market, I also got a delicious crepe (here called roti) with banana chocolate and fresh coconut, then we moved on to sharing more Thailand and general travel stories over beer and finally calling it a night, once more closing out the evening from the beach. My next day was another fairly slow one, with more writing and recovery. I did manage a trip with some others to a slightly farther away beach, where we enjoyed waves and fresh fruit for a wonderful afternoon. I booked a hostel for old town Phuket, a slightly less touristy corner of the island (and actually located in the main city this time) the next day, and felt thoroughly ready to move on to a calmer area now that Songkran would be officially over. The festival, especially in this beachy tourist getaway, had been a wonderful experience, but a deeply exhausting one. I truly hope I get to experience it again, but I think I would do it in a different city next time. Either way, I have no regrets and I’m confident I got a truly incredible introduction to Thailand!