Nine Blessings on Songkran

While Songkran is fairly well known around the world as a huge, wild, multi-day water gun fight, it's also the traditional three-day Thai new year (April 13-15) and quite an important day in Thai Buddhism.

All across the country, Buddha shrines have begun popping up in public spaces - offices, schools, condo lobbies, even supermarkets. Each shrine has a bowl of fragrant water with flower petals floating in it that passersby can scoop up with a cup to gently pour over the statue. This ritual, known as Song Nam Phra, is an act of respect and renewal, and symbolizes the washing away of the past year’s misfortunes and the welcoming of good luck for the year ahead.

On the other hand, a very different kind of display has taken over storefronts across the country. Every shop, street stall, and minimart is suddenly stocked with brightly colored water guns, waterproof pouches for phones, and the iconic, tacky floral shirts that have become synonymous with Songkran.

Even though I've been living in Thailand for more than a decade, I've actually only participated in the water fight one time. It's fun, but it can be a little bit too crazy and crowded for my taste.

This year, I went out on the first night of Songkran to attend the Little Bangkok Sangha, an English-language santha (Buddhist community, meditation group, or congregation) led by the well-known English monk Phra Pandit, who has become something of a bridge between Thai Buddhism and the city’s English-speaking residents. Phra Pandit has been living as a monk in Thailand for over two decades and is a frequent guest on my friend Greg's Bangkok Podcast.

I arrived with a friend at 6:30, and the evening began with a quiet 15-minute meditation session before Phra Pandit gave his "monk chat", an informal lecture and discussion with the small group assembled. This night's lecture was, appropriately, about the symbolism of water not only in Thai Buddhism, but in other traditions around the world.

Phra Pandit drew very interesting parallels between Songkran, Arthurian legend, and even the Bible, making a connection between Jeremiah 2:13 and Buddha's teachings. This was actually the second time I've been to one of Phra Pandit's lectures (the first was in my very first year of Thailand before I even knew who he was), but I've heard him quite often on the Bangkok Podcast. He's very funny and does a good job of explaining Buddhism in English to Westerners in contexts that make it easy to understand.

This year, my wife and I decided to do something new and different for Songkran. I had heard of an event taking place at the National Museum, so on a very hot Songkran afternoon (the festival is held during the hottest part of the Thai year, making it quite understandable how the water gun tradition developed), we took the MRT down to Sanam Chai Station near the Grand Palace, and caught a ride to the Wang Na (the "Front Palace", former residence of Siam's Vice-King, and currently home to the fantastic Thai National Museum).

We arrived at the museum and took part in the Buddha washing ritual outside in the courtyard. A number of vendors had set up stalls at the museum selling snacks and cold drinks, and the museum's cafe and gift shop were open (and heavily airconditioned) so that people could escape the heat and cool off.

The main event took place in Siwamokhaphiman Hall, one of the main buildings at the museum that usually houses temporary exhibitions and collections. Over Songkran, it had been transformed into a sort of sanctuary displaying some very rare and very special artifacts.

The main ritual involved the ceremonial bathing of 23 sacred Buddha relics, including bones from the Buddha himself. Alongside this was the veneration of the nine celestial guardian deities (Devata Nobhakraha), figures drawn from a blend of Buddhist and Hindu astrology.

Each of the nine figures, cast from pure silver, was associated with a planet and believed to influence human destiny. 

They include:

• Phra Athit (the Sun), representing power and temperament
• Phra Chan (the Moon), linked to emotion and gentleness
• Phra Angkhan (Mars), embodying energy and boldness
• Phra Phut (Mercury), the patron of communication and intellect
• Phra Phruehat (Jupiter), symbolizing wisdom and moral authority
• Phra Suk (Venus), associated with beauty, love, and the arts
• Phra Sao (Saturn), representing endurance and hardship
• Phra Rahu, a shadow force representing darkness and eclipses who is tied to misfortune but also protection and transformation
• Phra Ketu, a more mysterious guardian believed to balance karma and turn ill fortune toward good 

Together, these nine deities form a kind of cosmic framework through which many Thais understand personality, fate, and the unseen forces shaping their lives.

Through some tricky astrology math that I don't understand (luckily some museum staff were on hand to help with the calculation), we discovered which of the nine deities are most influential in guiding our lives. Surprisingly, it does not correspond to the day of the week in which we were born.

On a second shrine platform stood a tiny gold-enameled urn containing what are supposedly bone relics from the Buddha. The urn is usually kept enshrined inside the halo of the Phra Phuttha Sihing, Thailand's second-most important Buddha image, which also resides at the National Museum inside the Buddhaisawan Chapel.

After giving a wai to the nine silver deities and the Buddha relics, we walked over to the Buddhaisawan Chapel to pay our respects at the Phra Puttha Sihing itself.

The Life of the Buddha as told by the murals in the Buddhaisawan Chapel

The historic golden Buddha is second in spiritual importance only to the Emerald Buddha at the Grand Palace. Supposedly, it dates back to the year 157, where it was cast in what is now Sri Lanka, though much of the story of the Phra Puttha Sihing is based in myth and legend.

The Legend of the Phra Puttha Sihing

It was a nice day, and it was fun to do something on Songkran besides hiding out in my condo and avoiding the water fight. Sometimes, it feels that with all the modern traditions (which are fun, don't get me wrong!), the historical and deeper spiritual meaning of Songkran is overlooked.

I'm not Buddhist, but as an expat who has made Thailand my home, I really appreciate connecting with the country's deeper culture, and taking part in experiences like this are such a good way to get beyond "Instagram Thailand" and start to feel like I really belong here.

Padang Besar and Padang Besar

I had hoped to have my visa in hand by Friday evening, but when on Thursday the embassy requested another document (a PDF containing a picture of every page of my passport including the blank ones in a file which, let me tell you took forever to figure out how to upload while still keeping below the maximum 3MB file size accepted by the online portal), I knew I'd be in Malaysa at least until Monday.

On Monday, though, I realized that it was a Thai holiday (Chakri Day, which commemorates the founding of the Chakri Dynasty and the coronation of King Rama I) and the embassy was still closed.

On Tuesday, I was hoping for the best. It was time to leave Ipoh and head up north to the border to await (hopefully) good news. My plan was to cross into Thailand as soon as the e-visa arrived in my mailbox.

I was up before dawn. I had a ticket on the first train north to Padang Besar, but before leaving Ipoh I wanted to visit the shop where the town's famous coffee culture began.

Kedai Kopi Sin Yoon Loong was already packed and bustling when I arrived.

This unassuming kopitiam, looking just like any other in Malaysia, is where the iconic Ipoh white coffee was first developed. I ordered a glass of iced white coffee. I would have had breakfast too, but I had just woken up and wasn't too hungry yet. After my coffee, I walked on towards the train station.

The sun was starting to rise over Ipoh as I walked through the old town. Shortly, I was boarding a train onward to Padang Besar.

The journey was incredibly comfortable and only took around three hours. Not too many people were heading to the border that day, and the carriage I was in was nearly empty.

A few hours later, I had arrived at Padang Besar. Padang Besar is a hot, sunny, dusty town in the north of Perlis State bordering Thailand's Songkhla Province.

Unfortunately, my visa still had not come through...

There was almost literally nothing to do in Pedang Besar - it's not normally the type of place where people spend any amount of time but rather just pass through - so after yet another coffee, I had to make a decision.

I went ahead and booked one night at a small local guesthouse. I had a little trouble finding the place at first because the location on Google Maps was wrong, but a local guy saw me looking lost and confused in front of his house and came out to help me. All was good, though, because the guesthouse I had booked was owned by his mother, so he gave me a short ride on his motorbike, and soon I was dropping my bags off at a small container box that had been converted into a little bungalow.

It was nothing fancy, but I had Wi-Fi, air-conditioning, and a hot shower. What else could I want?

It was late afternoon now, and I still hadn't eaten anything all day. There weren't many options in Pedang Besar. In fact, the whole town felt nearly abandoned. I walked through the silent dirt roads back to the main road where I was able to find a 7-Eleven for supplies and KFC. I was tired, so I just went ahead and ordered a box of nasi lemak from KFC for lunch.

My visa came through that evening just before the embassy closed. I didn't have time to cross the border but planned to do so first thing the next morning. Relieved, I went to sleep, no longer stressing about getting back home.

The town is so small that it only took about ten minutes for me to walk from the guesthouse to the border crossing the next morning. I had anticipated traffic, or at least a queue at the border. Every land border I've crossed before had been a bit chaotic. However, to my surprise, there was almost nobody else crossing, and I was able to walk right on through.

There's a sort of no-man's land between the two border crossings with a massive duty-free complex in between. Apparently, it's a popular shopping center for people who live on both sides of the border, but it wasn't open yet as I walked towards the Thai checkpoint.

The border crossing on the Thai side was about as busy as the Malaysian one had been (that is to say, not at all), and after showing my visa, I was stamped through. It was so nice to be back.

Padang Besar is a town in two parts split in half by the border. While Padang Besar, Malaysia had the typical distinctly transient sort of feel of a border town, the town across the border in Thailand, also called Padang Besar, felt like... well like any other small Thai town. It felt so familiar and comfortable, and I suddenly realized how glad I was to be back in Thailand.

I still had to make my way to Hat Yai, so I bought a ticket at the train station, found a nearby rest area with a 7-Eleven, clean toilets, and a ubiquitous Cafe Amazon, and sat down to read for about an hour before my train departed.

It was a third-class commuter train, much plainer and less fancy than the Malaysian train, but I didn't mind.

The landscape sped past outside as we chugged along the railway heading towards southern Thailand's biggest city.

I didn't spend much time in Hat Yai. Originally, I had wanted to take a night train back to Bangkok, but all of the seats were sold out. Just wanting to be home, I bought a ticket on Air Asia instead and booked a taxi to take me to the airport.

I had to spend all day there, but it wasn't so bad and I was able to read a lot. Finally, I was in the air and heading back to Bangkok. As I flew over the Gulf, I could see the blue-green lights of squid boats dotting the water far below.

Kellie's Castle

Of all the things I had expected to see in Malaysia - temples, mosques, tea plantations - this was not one of them. We had come to the most unexpected attraction in Ipoh: an abandoned half-finished European-style castle sitting in the green hills just outside of the city.

In 1890, a 20-year-old Scotsman named William Kellie-Smith arrived in Malaysia to work as a civil engineer. Determined to bring a bit of "civilization" to this faraway country, Kellie-Smith purchased a plot along the Kinta River near Ipoh, where the tin mining boom was transforming jungle into industry.

There, amid rubber estates and limestone hills, he began constructing what would become an ambitious, unfinished mansion blending Scottish and Indo-Saracenic design and a symbol of both colonial optimism and a personal obsession with raising the statue of himself and his family.

Kellie-Smith ultimately died before the completion of what would be called Kellie's Castle (or Kellie's Folly by those less charitable). The unfinished mansion fell into ruin, and Jaiye, my guide for the day, told me that growing up, he and his peers used to refer to it as the Ghost House. It's definitely got a bit of a spooky feel to it.

Though never furnished during his lifetime, the castle is partially decorated with period-accurate furniture to show what it could have looked like had it ever been completed and inhabited.

The castle is built in an eclectic mix of architectural styles taking inspiration from Indian, Moorish, and traditional Scottish baronial architecture. It's arched colonnades, domed towers, and intricate details create a structure that is grand and hauntingly out of place in the Malaysian jungle.

Kellie-Smith was a successful businessman and had become quite paranoid later in his life. His castle was full of secret passages leading to escape tunnels. Many of the tunnels, if they were finished, have been filled in and lost. Others have been bricked up to prevent people from exploring them. Some have never been found.

In 1926, Kellie-Smith traveled to Portugal to complete the purchase of an elevator to install in the castle. It would have been the very first elevator in Malaysia. Sadly, he caught pneumonia on his travels and died before returning to Malaysia. His wife and son moved back to Scotland, and construction on the castle was halted, never to be finished. Today, the empty elevator shaft is still visible in the abandoned castle.

The family ultimately sold the castle, and today it's become a popular quirky attraction for people visiting Ipoh or passing through Perak State.

Kellie-Smith may have died before completing his castle, but his legacy lives on and he has been immortalized in a surprising way.

In 1918 the Spanish Flu struck the Indian workers who were on the construction team building the castle. They approached Kellie-Smith for help building a temple nearby, and he readily agreed, funding its construction. To honor him, a statue of Kellie-Smith in his Western garb was built on the temple wall alongside Hindu deities and other mythological figures.

The legend even says that one of the lost secret escape tunnels even ran from the castle to the temple, but to this day it hasn't been found.

Mirror Lake and Tempurung Cave

It was a hot, sweaty day, and after spending the morning visiting three of Ipoh's most famous cave temples, it was time for a short break. My guide drove me to a local kopitiam (Malay coffee shop) where we sat down for a plate of Ipoh's famous "white coffee", a local specialty where the beans are roasted in palm oil margarine and the coffee is served with condensed milk.

White coffee pairs nicely with another Malaysian specialty: kaya butter toast. Kaya is a type off local coconut jam, and it's typically served in a sort of sandwich on lightly toasted bread with thin slices of cold butter and dunked in the coffee before each bite.

Our next destination was to be Tasik Cermin, or "Mirror Lake".

In the 19th century, thanks to Perak State's tin mining industry, Ipoh was once the richest city in all of Malaysia. Today, the tin mining has dried up, and what was once a large quarry has been filled in to create Mirror Lake.

The lake is surrounded on all four sides by towering limestone cliffs, and the only way to reach it is via a low tunnel carved out of the rock. I donned a hardhat, took a seat on an inflatable rubber dinghy, and set off with a small group of tourists down the long, dark, quiet tunnel.

I was thankful for the hard hats! There were several fairly claustrophobic moments when we had to duck down to narrowly avoid bonking our heads against the rocky ceiling of the tunnel.

After a few minutes, we arrived on the other side. It was like cruising into Jurassic Park! It was quiet, the sounds of traffic outside blocked by the mountains around us so that once the guide shut off the boat's motor, the only sounds were the gentle lapping of water and chirping and buzzing of jungle insects.

Mirror Lake got its name because of the glassy stillness of the water and how on a clear day, it reflects the sky. Unfortunately, it was a bit overcast that day, so I didn't get the full experience, but I could definitely see how reflective the water could have been on a good day.

Tempurung Cave is a limestone cave spanning some 4 kilometers, making it one of the longest cave systems in Peninsular Malaysia. Jaiye and I left Mirror Lake, driving on to the entrance of the cave.

 

Tempurung Cave has a long history, and as we entered the humid cave tunnel, Jaiye explained to me about its geographical features and formation, which took place around 400 million years ago when this part of Malaysia was at the bottom of the sea.

A river runs through the bottom of the cave, and experienced cavers (or those signing up to go on a hike with the cave's staff) can trek through the dark parts of the cave which are off-limits to regular tourists and walk back along the riverbed.

A large streak of marble runs the length of the cave just above the waterline. Marble is formed when limestone (itself formed by ancient, compressed shells) undergoes a process called metamorphism, transforming under heat and pressure into a dense, crystalline rock.

The cave is also rich in iron, and you can see plenty of hematite, oxidized chunks of iron, sticking out here and there, easily identifiably by its natural rusty color.

The cave was even used for a short time as a tin mine, and some equipment - mostly old shovels - have been recovered and are on a sort of display inside the cave as a reminder of its more recent past.

We walked along the paved path, occasionally climbing up steep steel steps as we made our way along the cave.

During the turbulent years of the Malayan Emergency in the 1950s and 60s, a guerrilla war fought between British colonial forces and communist insurgents, Tempurung Cave served as a hidden refuge for the communists.

Deep within its chambers, hidden from aerial surveillance and ground patrols, the cave was used as a strategic base of operations, and for a time you could even see their secret plans scratched into the walls of the cave which have since been covered up by the Malaysian government.

Finally, we reached the end of the path - or at least the end of the part of the path that regular unguided visitors like us were allowed to go. This was the "Top of the World", an area with a low ceiling that you could reach up and touch.

It was late afternoon, and we had already seen so much of the areas surrounding Ipoh, but there was still one more site to hit up before heading back to my hotel. Jaiye bought us each a bag of fresh guava to snack on as we got back into his car and set off down the road towards Kellie's Castle, our final stop of the day.