Thursday, April the 19th (2018), was Pattaya’s last day of Songkran. If you enjoyed the fun so much you want some more, you can travel to Bang Saray and continue throwing water on Friday the 20th, but the water festival celebrating the Thai New Year is just about dribbling to its last, wet conclusion here in Pattaya. I’m writing this, dry, in a small room near Big C Extra on Pattaya Klang just before dawn on the 20th, and I’m not going the 20 odd kilometers or so to Bang Saray to continue chucking water.
So many people leave Pattaya and indeed Thailand for the week of water madness. Last night I witnessed a noisy Walking Street full of revellers. I’d arrived there without even being seen so I sat dry and watched the fun. It really was fun. Probably no one was thinking about water renewing life and expressing a symbolic message of hope, faith and brotherly affection, and all those other ideas associated with Buddha and his adherents, but the joy was infectious. No one seemed to be miserable but after thirty minutes I did see some friction between two, and when a foreigner pointed his water-gun into the restaurant where I sat and spurted a limp spray, he got a dirty look. I waited till I knew none of my favourite haunts would open, then ordered a pizza and a large bottle of leo. My small one had been consumed. I had noticed the prices were extremely high but I was prepared to pay high for sitting watching Pattaya’s most notorious street drench itself. The fun continued and my pizza arrived. It was cold. I sent it back, and it came back looking much the same. I felt it. It was cold. I did think the restaurant was taking the piss. I sent it back for a third time, pointing out that I couldn’t understand why the staff couldn’t give me a heated-up pizza. It came back semi-hot and edible. I ate and paid high and got back to Soi Buakhao in time for a game of pool in a bar off Soi Honey. The barmaid I know who always plays with me was limping and looked as tired and miserable as Winnie the Pooh after a CIA water-interrogation in Guantanamo Bay. I won the game of pool as I always do with this particular barmaid (that’s why I play her), drank my Tiger Light, and got out, crossed the road, made it to Soi Buakhao, still dry, when a Thai guy ran out of a bar and threw a bucket of water into my face. I caught my glasses which were flying off my face with the impact, and told him he was a fucking idiot. He stared at me belligerently. I went and found by chance by the side of the soi a portable plastic sink, filled it with water, went back to him and asked him if I could throw it in his face. He nodded. I said in Thai it should be happy new year not happy new accident and he laughed appreciatively. I went home the usual route and bought a fried chicken leg for twenty baht.
The Italians I know and a couple of English guys are returning next week from their island stays in the Philippines. Pattaya will be back to normal. I saw no accidents last night and I stayed relatively dry. If it hadn’t been for the Thai guy’s bucket of water I’d be a lover of Songkran today despite the stats, the chaos and the drunkenness.
It’s almost dawn now so I’ll hit the sack as that yellow jewel of a sun rises on a damp Pattaya and the day after Songkran.
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