I had arrived in Thailand a month earlier with my boyfriend Mark, and we'd settled down in Chiang Mai, the largest northern city, to begin our jobs as English teachers. Eager to escape the unbearably hot days I began frequenting a local pool. As I submerged myself in the cold water for the first time, I was sure I had found the best solution to combating the oppressive April heat. How could I have known what lay in wait for me?

That night, one of my students appeared for class wearing a bright red floral Hawaiian shirt, a distinct departure from his usual faded T-shirts. When I complimented him on his fashion statement he announced that it was his shirt for Songkran: "Only 99 baht." I must have looked puzzled because he offered an explanation: "Songkran. Water festival."

A festival? My ears perked up. I love festivals and more importantly I love water. I jump at any chance to join a water fight, and nothing soothes me on a hot, stressful day quite like a big cup of water being dumped over my head. The beauty of water is that it's only water; never any harm done. I began to understand why hundreds of thousands of brightly colored Hawaiian shirts appeared overnight in every market in town; with Songkran just a week away, now was the time to buy. Small stands selling plastic buckets and water pumps cropped up as well. My students eagerly informed me that there would be no classes during Songkran. Signs materialized at stores to let customers know that they would be closed for anywhere from three days to an entire week. A local NGO worker with one Songkran celebration already under her belt told me to not overextend myself. "Don't try to go out all day throwing water and then dance all night. You'll collapse." An expat explained his Songkran survival techniques in a local publication. His advice: if you don't want to get wet, it's easy. Just don't step outside for four days.

The festival signifies the start of the traditional Thai New Year, which officially begins when the sun moves from Pisces to Aries (around the middle of April). Although 95 percent of Thais are Buddhist, they continue to interweave their strong animist roots into modern religious traditions. It is believed that Indra, the king of heavenly spirits, comes to earth each year for three days to take note of the good and evil deeds committed since his last visit. The Thai New Year begins following his return to the spiritual world. Traditionally, in efforts to cleanse themselves for his visit, young people washed their elders' hair during this time and bathed Buddha images with scented water.

Today, Buddha images continue to be bathed and elders are respectfully doused with water from their children. The religious significance of the holiday has not totally disappeared amidst the party atmosphere that prevails today. Although young people crowd the streets of Chiang Mai before the festival even officially begins, nearly all of my students spent their first day of vacation at temple. However, for most young Thais, the importance of the ceremonial washing seems to have given way to the massive water fight, which takes place throughout the country, but with extreme vigor in the North.

On the first official day of Songkran we dragged ourselves out of bed before 7 am and headed down to Tha Pae Gate in the old city of Chiang Mai to witness the Procession of Ladies Riding Bicycles with Umbrellas. I discovered that water throwers like to sleep in, and the city was peaceful and dry for the first few hours of the day. The bright Songkran shirts that dotted the streets the day before had been replaced by traditional clothes, long skirts, stitched tops and hair adorned with flowers. At 8:30 the ladies biked gracefully up the street wearing brightly colored silk skirts with vibrant theatrical make-up on their faces and colorful paper umbrellas in hand. Chiang Mai is renowned for its traditional hand-painted umbrellas, which continue to be made today at an umbrella factory just outside of town in Bo Sang.

By noon, most of the well-dressed Thais had dispersed, undoubtedly seeking shelter at home or with friends, and the Songkran revelers reappeared with buckets of water in hand. The city was transformed into a pedestrian water park. Armed with a bucket and a water pump, Mark and I entered the madness. Some aggressive farang (westerners) launched a water attack on us. Thai children crowded around public faucets to refill their weapons, many adding chunks of ice to their water to give us a little extra shock. Within minutes, we were dripping wet and exhausted.

We fortified ourselves from the many food stalls set up to accommodate the growing crowds and after running into an American friend, settled down with some beers. We couldn't enjoy our break too long because our Thai friend Gun took it upon himself to ensure that we didn't dry out in the sun. After a few losing rounds with the little devil, we decided if you can't beat 'em... With little Gun on our side we were unstoppable. His mother eagerly ran off to refill our buckets while Gun promptly upgraded his smaller pump to one of our larger ones. He took on our dirty work, attacking people in the crowd mercilessly, and throwing water so aggressively that he finally collapsed and had to be carried home for an afternoon nap.

Later that afternoon, a parade of Buddha statues moved down Tha Pae road and hordes of people gathered to wash the images with scented water and oils. Three Brits who had been wreaking havoc all afternoon chatted with us during the parade. They were traveling for a few months and stumbled unknowingly upon Songkran in Thailand. Like us, they couldn't believe they had never heard of Songkran before. Amongst young travelers, Thailand's notorious Full Moon Party on Ko Pha-Ngan is legendary, while Songkran was only discovered by those of us who happened to find ourselves in Thailand in mid-April.

That the Thai New Year falls during the height of the hot season, which by no coincidence is the low season for tourism, has helped keep Songkran a predominantly 'Thai' celebration. While the sun-burnt faces of backpackers could be spotted around Tha Pae gate, the city streets, the moat-banks surrounding the old city, and the pick-up trucks all overflowed with Thais. On Sunday I found myself on the back of a pick-up truck crammed with ten of my students out to inch their way around the moat. Two giant plastic bins held our ammunition, and when we ran out, we just scampered down to the moat to fill up. I could only handle being a sitting duck for two hours, and finally took off on foot to escape the incessant pounding of water over my head. Apparently my students are made of stronger stuff; they went out the next day as well while I hibernated at home to give my weary body a rest.

Songkran may have all the makings of a Mardi Gras bare-all drinkfest, but despite the beer stands sprinkled every few feet around the moat and the bottles of Thai whiskey passed amongst truck riders, the Thais kept their clothes on. The only bare chests I saw belonged to some pale Brits and tanned tattooed men who looked like they had just come from the beach and seemed quite at home in their drunken merriment. Even in front of Central, a large shopping mall blasting dance music, the dance-off for a bottle of whiskey was single sex only and the Thai policeman on hand pulled more than one 'out of turn' dancer off the stage.

Throughout the festival, I was constantly amazed to find myself smack in the middle of what must be the biggest water fight in the world. On that sunny and soggy Saturday afternoon, Gun leaned over to fill his water pump in our bucket and I pointed to a grinning backpacker nearby. As Gun opened fire, our goodhearted victim turned towards us and as he was being soaked, declared with jubilation, "God bless this place!"

Feedback: "I was very impressed with the subject of this travel story. It is well written and held my interest. It covers a part of the world that is not seen by the ordinary traveler, and I certainly want to learn more about Chiang Mai." Virginia