Alright, now that we got that out of the way (so my mommy can put her heart attack on hold until the next time I find myself amidst a revolution/government coup), let me fill you in on Bangkok. Yet another lovely oxymoron of a place to add to my list of bass-ackwards Thai experiences.
We arrived by bus at 6:30 AM on Sunday morning, about three hours after the Red Shirt demonstrations became violent, and 21 people were killed. Basically, I woke up and almost wet myself, imagining mobs of rouge-clothed savages overturning my bus before I could even set foot on big city soil. Not cool. I was almost as freaked out as my loved ones were at home, whose frantic texts didn't exactly help the situation (sorry guys, I love you and know you meant well).
But what in the hell was I, a frazzled farang, supposed to do??
Well, I'll tell you what I did:
SONGKHRAN!!!!! (Said in your best spring break, frat boy voice)
So the military breaks out rubber bullets and (debatably) guns? We bust out water guns, and celebrate the Thai New Year like our lives depend upon it. And do not for one minute think that because you are wearing a red shirt or a brown uniform you will be spared... no no, we Songkhraners take no prisoners. Red shirt? You now wet red shirt, no ploplem, can do! Brown military fatigues? I dare you not to smile when I spray you in the face with my AK-H20. Basically, regardless of race, age, uniform, or religion, we were all just looking for a reason to smile, and good lord, we fucking found one.
As all good (and sketchy) things must come to an end, I now find myself in the northern city of Chiang Mai, where Songkhran is a bit more lighthearted, but also a bit more wet.
And with that, we part, and I wish you all the happiest of New Years, and a bit less worried about me (ahem, see title of post again, please).
Peace, love, and somewhat strange vibrations,
Karissa
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