As soon as I leave my building a grinning man with the build of a kickboxer pours an entire bucket of ice cold water over my head. A woman then rubs white powder on my face, making my lips tingle. Songkran has begun. The traffic is endless: motorbikes, tuk tuks, pick-up trucks, and thousands more on foot. Everybody armed with brightly coloured water guns. In amongst them noisy vendors offer everything from sugar cane juice to papaya salad. They say throwing all this water around hastens the rain. But for the next three days the only drenchings will be manmade.
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"Classic"
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