Splashes, Strangers, and Stillness: Songkran Through My Lens

Before the splashes, there is stillness.

Songkran, Thailand’s New Year, is often celebrated as a joyful, three-day-long splash fest—but its roots are much deeper. Traditionally, it’s a time for renewal and reflection. Families visit temples to pour water over Buddha statues, pay respects to elders, and wear the color that corresponds with the day they were born (mine is green for Wednesday).

I’ve been coming to Thailand with my siblings since childhood, usually during school breaks. But despite being here during Songkran, my older brother and I—who were both based in the Philippines—never got to join the festivities. We were only here for short visits and couldn’t afford to get sick, so water play was something we avoided. My youngest brother was the only one who really got to enjoy it.

It wasn’t until after the pandemic that I finally experienced Songkran.

Or more precisely—it was after 2022.

That year marked the first Songkran after COVID, but it wasn’t the return to full celebration. It felt cautious, tense. There were still high infection rates and strict restrictions. Public splashing was banned, no one could smear powder on each other’s faces, and entry to most events required a negative ATK test and proof of vaccination. Honestly, I didn’t participate much. It felt like too much hassle for something that used to be spontaneous joy.

So for me, Songkran 2023 was the real beginning—the first time it felt like we could finally let go.

2023 – My First Real Songkran

When 2023 arrived, it felt like the world had exhaled. Songkran returned in all its energy and color, and I wandered with my camera—capturing the laughter, the splashes, and the warmth of a celebration long missed.

That year, I wasn’t just a bystander. I went all in. I captured the unfiltered joy of strangers splashing water at each other, the improvised dance circles on the streets, and even quiet moments—people catching their breath, adjusting their goggles, smiling into the lens for a second before being drenched or drenching someone else.

What struck me most wasn’t just the celebration itself, but the openness. People didn’t care if they’d ever see the photo. They just wanted to share the moment. The energy was high, almost celebratory in a deeper way—as if everyone was silently saying, we made it.

It was the year we created our own little traditions. The same park. The same spots near the mall. The same friendly strangers we kept running into.

To be honest, I took over 200 good photos during Songkran 2023—I made sure to visit all the major splashing spots that year. But if I tried to include them all, this essay would quickly overflow. So these were just a few of my favorites from that unforgettable week.

2024 – Familiar Faces, Stronger Bonds

By 2024, it felt like a reunion. I started recognizing people from the previous year. We weren’t friends in the conventional sense—but we remembered each other. A nod, a splash, a smile, and a camera raised—that’s all it took.

It was a warmer year, both in temperature and connection. I found myself drawn to the quieter scenes this time—friends regrouping at food stalls, kids with water guns too big for their hands, older folks watching from shaded benches with knowing smiles.

The photos I took in 2024 feel more personal somehow. Less about the event and more about the people in it. There was more time to slow down, to really see the spirit of Songkran behind the spectacle.

2025 – A Gentle Pause

This year, I didn’t participate as much. Life was busy. Energy was lower. But I still showed up—with my camera and curiosity.

I only took a few photos, but they feel like quiet footnotes to a story that’s still unfolding. Maybe not every year has to be big and bold. Sometimes, it’s enough just to witness it—to notice the joy still spilling out of buckets and hoses, to know that even if you’re not dancing in the middle of it, the rhythm is still there.

And in a way, that feels just as meaningful.