I helped an old man across the road today, and he gave me New Year's blessing in return.
I was delighted to get the blessing, the first one I have received over the Songkran (Thai New Year) holiday.
Thais celebrate Songkran in different ways. Being elderly, he did not carry a water gun, nor try to squirt me with a plastic water bottle.
He was not hoisting a bucket, nor careening about on a motorbike, like the many youngsters I watched today, as I waited for a bus to work.
Teenagers on motorbikes were getting around in gangs. Up to 20 or 30 bikes would go past at a time. We would get a brief lull in activity, then the air would fill with the buzzing sound of bikes again, and another horde of the things would rumble by.
In the slippery road conditions, I watched one boy fall off his bike, pick himself up again, and carry on. No big deal.
If they are not riding bikes, boys and girls are often perched on the back of pick-up trucks. Some have lugged enormous vats of water on to the deck, into which they dip small plastic buckets. As soon as they throw one bucket of water at a passer-by, they recharge.
My Songkran has been mainly dry. As I get older, the youngsters are starting to leave me alone. Now I look too respectable to get splashed, so can walk through the market without fear of being ambushed.
On the first day of the water festival, a grizzled man in his 50s did squirt me. Unlike the elderly man whom I helped across the street, he did not offer me a New Year's blessing. He just wanted to get me wet.
Traditionally, youngsters pour scented water on the hands of elderly relatives or parents, and get a blessing in return. If today's youngsters still observe that touching tradition, I rarely see it.
I witness the uglier, public face of Songkran, where Thai youngsters take over the streets, and abandon themselves to days of relentless water wars.
When not tossing water, they smear each other's faces in a mix of flour and water. While dousing their victims, they dance to music blaring from whatever music box they have brought along. I suspect the dancing is to keep the blood flowing, so their saturated bodies do not get cold.
To my elderly friend, all this frenetic water-throwing activity must be mysterious. It did not exist when he was in his youth.
As I stood in front of my condo waiting for a bus, he turned up at my side.
'Is it safe to cross the street? he asked. Aged in his seventies, perhaps, he had few, if any teeth. 'My eyesight is poor.'
'It is safe - but let me escort you.'
I held him by the hand, while we walked across.
'This is far enough,' he said, stopping me. 'May I wish you a happy New Year.'
He smiled, and walked away.
He may have been worried about the youngsters on their bikes, or genuinely unable to see well. Perhaps he left his glasses at home.
Is he missing much? The Songkran he knew as a boy - that's hard to find these days anyway.
I was delighted to get the blessing, the first one I have received over the Songkran (Thai New Year) holiday.
Thais celebrate Songkran in different ways. Being elderly, he did not carry a water gun, nor try to squirt me with a plastic water bottle.
He was not hoisting a bucket, nor careening about on a motorbike, like the many youngsters I watched today, as I waited for a bus to work.
Teenagers on motorbikes were getting around in gangs. Up to 20 or 30 bikes would go past at a time. We would get a brief lull in activity, then the air would fill with the buzzing sound of bikes again, and another horde of the things would rumble by.
In the slippery road conditions, I watched one boy fall off his bike, pick himself up again, and carry on. No big deal.
If they are not riding bikes, boys and girls are often perched on the back of pick-up trucks. Some have lugged enormous vats of water on to the deck, into which they dip small plastic buckets. As soon as they throw one bucket of water at a passer-by, they recharge.
My Songkran has been mainly dry. As I get older, the youngsters are starting to leave me alone. Now I look too respectable to get splashed, so can walk through the market without fear of being ambushed.
On the first day of the water festival, a grizzled man in his 50s did squirt me. Unlike the elderly man whom I helped across the street, he did not offer me a New Year's blessing. He just wanted to get me wet.
Traditionally, youngsters pour scented water on the hands of elderly relatives or parents, and get a blessing in return. If today's youngsters still observe that touching tradition, I rarely see it.
I witness the uglier, public face of Songkran, where Thai youngsters take over the streets, and abandon themselves to days of relentless water wars.
When not tossing water, they smear each other's faces in a mix of flour and water. While dousing their victims, they dance to music blaring from whatever music box they have brought along. I suspect the dancing is to keep the blood flowing, so their saturated bodies do not get cold.
To my elderly friend, all this frenetic water-throwing activity must be mysterious. It did not exist when he was in his youth.
As I stood in front of my condo waiting for a bus, he turned up at my side.
'Is it safe to cross the street? he asked. Aged in his seventies, perhaps, he had few, if any teeth. 'My eyesight is poor.'
'It is safe - but let me escort you.'
I held him by the hand, while we walked across.
'This is far enough,' he said, stopping me. 'May I wish you a happy New Year.'
He smiled, and walked away.
He may have been worried about the youngsters on their bikes, or genuinely unable to see well. Perhaps he left his glasses at home.
Is he missing much? The Songkran he knew as a boy - that's hard to find these days anyway.
At least on the streets where the water wars are fought, Songkran now belongs to the young. If so, let them get on with it. We have our own ways to fill in the days, after all.
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