Absurdity abroad: a beauty of a contest

After a long Northern New York winter, the summer sunshine is welcome and well worth a celebration. In Thailand, people have their own seasonal reason to celebrate. As you all shed your winter wear and head out to enjoy the warm weather, people in Thailand reach for their umbrellas and welcome the refreshing rains. And it all starts with Songkran.

Songkran comes at the end of the hot season in mid-April, just at the point when you are positive you will finally melt if you are forced to live through another day of sweltering heat and heavy humidity. The first day of Songkran is celebrated as the last day of the last year. The middle day is, logically, the day between the two years. And the last day is welcomed as the first day of the new year, and the beginning of the rainy season.

Traditionally, Songkran was a time to cleanse yourself of the troubles and bad fortune of the past year, to begin anew. It is a time for children, young and old, to pay respect to their elder relatives by sprinkling water in their hands and asking for forgiveness for any wrongs committed in the passing year. During Songkran, Thai people also head to the temples and spirit houses to sprinkle water over the Buddhas and make offerings to the monks.

Unfortunately, the gentle water-sprinkling tradition has, over the years, transformed into an all out water war. Armed with buckets of ice water and super-powered squirt guns, people take to the streets to "wash away" the sins of anyone and everyone they meet. No one and no place is safe. If you leave your house, sinner or saint, you are guaranteed to be "cleansed" — by your neighbor and his garden hose, teenagers and their squirt guns packed in the pickup truck passing by, even the sweet lady who sells fruit alongside the street ... beware, she is hiding a bucket of ice water and it has your name on it!

I know what you're thinking: Ashley, you party pooper, water wars are fun! And I agree. Water wars are fun — at the beach, in the park, when you are prepared, wearing a swimsuit, and carrying ample ammunition. But I can tell you that fun turns to fear the moment you are shot straight in the eyeball and followed down the street by a strange man holding a (water) gun to the back of your head.

And in the event that you have a life to attend to (How dare you! It's Songkran!) — an audition to go to, work to do — if you have any peculiar plans of looking presentable (dry as opposed to drenched), forget it. Squirt guns and ice water have no regard for profession, status, race or purpose. The revelers couldn't care less where you've been or where you're going. In fact, the more put together you appear to be, the more likely you are to get soaked.

So how did I spend my Songkran? Shameful but true, I had plans of stocking my fridge, collecting all of my friends' DVDs, and hiding out in my condo until the storm passed, a little rainy season rehearsal if you will. Those plans were promptly foiled by my modeling agent who found a reason to drag me out of the safety of my dry apartment and into the chaos of the water war-torn streets, every single day of Songkran.

While two of the three days were spent in Pattaya (a resort town two hours south of Bangkok) shooting an Indian film, on the third day I found myself right at the center of the Songkran celebrations, on the stage of the Khao San Road Miss Songkran Contest.

Mind you, although I enjoy modeling, I have never considered myself a beauty pageant kind of girl. There is something very disturbing to me about pink plastic smiles, spray-on tans and contrived "beauty." But this was no ordinary pageant. This was Thailand. This was Songkran. And I am a sucker.

GETTING READY

We drew numbers to determine our hair, makeup and region of dress. As we would all be dressed like traditional Thai women, I envisioned myself with a classic up-do, flawless makeup, a long fitted skirt and a gorgeous golden strapless top. I must have drawn the "Please make me look the opposite of beautiful" number, as I ended up with hideous hair, popsicle pink lips, a long ill-fitting skirt and a gorgeous golden strapless top — which they immediately covered with a long-sleeved lace button-down.

The wardrobe people swore that "This is what Thai women in southern Thailand would wear." I swore it was what your great-great-great-grandmother would wear, if every other piece of clothing she owned was in the laundry.

Ah, but the show must go on ...

ROUND 1: INTRODUCTIONS

Walk (ever so daintily) out on to the stage (after battling through the crowds and ducking and dodging squirt guns), stop in the middle to "wai" (a "wai" is the traditional Thai greeting) ever so daintily, walk (ever so daintily) to the microphone, say your name and where you are from (ever so sweetly), and walk (ever more so daintily) back to your designated stage position and smile. And smile. And smile. And smile some more, until every contestant has been introduced.

Did you know that if you smile long enough, your lips will actually shake? But you must keep smiling because you are in the Miss Songkran Contest in the Land of Smiles for goodness sake!

Oh, and did I mention that the judges included members of the Thai royal family? No pressure ...

ROUND 2: Q&A

True to pageant form, this contest included a question and answer round. My agent's Thai friend tried to prep me backstage. "Just smile and say you love Thailand and the people and the food and the culture and YOU LOVE THE KING!"

The king. Right! The most important person in the entire country.

Wait. What's his name? Oh dear God, what if that's my question? What if they ask me what the king's name is?!

The odd, but not entirely unlikely scenario flashed through my mind: Me, standing next to the master of ceremonies, smiling, smiling. "Ashley, here is your question: Who is the king of Thailand?" I saw my face wrinkle up as I wracked my brain for a name that was probably never there. I saw the emcee's smile fade and a look of horror overwhelm her face. I saw myself scanning the crowd as their faces, too, turned to horror. And then rage. "How dare you live in this country, participate in the Miss Songkran Contest, and not know the name of the king?" they would all be thinking.

And then the police would come to drag me off the stage. I would be pelted with rotten fruit and drowned in buckets of ice water, led off to a merciless Thai pris—

"Are you OK?" my agent's friend asked, interrupting my nightmare.

"Oh! Yeah ... yes ... errr..." I laughed at myself and tried to shake off the ridiculous images my overactive, anxious mind had conjured up.

But just in case, "Um — what is the king's name?" I whispered, embarrassed but not willing to risk further embarrassment and possible jail time.

"Bhumibol Adulyadej," the friend replied, without hesitation.

Bhumibol Adulyadej. Bhumibol Adulyadej. I kept repeating the name to myself as I walked toward the front of the stage where my fate awaited me. OK, maybe my fate wasn't awaiting me, but the emcee was waiting there with a handful of envelopes.

"Choose your question, Ashley."

Bhumibol Adulyadej. Bhumibol Adulyadej.

"OK, Ashley. Are you ready?"

I smiled and nodded. Bhumibol Adulyadej. Bhumibol Adulyadej.

"Thailand is nicknamed 'The Land of Smiles.' What does this mean to you?"

Bhumi—

"Well, that's a great question," I said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thailand is nicknamed 'The Land of Smiles' because everywhere you go people seem to always be smiling. You can have the worst day ever, be in the most horrific mood, but then you walk down the street — whether it be the lady selling flowers on the corner, the family passing by on their motorbike, or the gorgeous children who come rushing to greet you — all of them and their beautiful, genuine smiles make you want to smile. And before you know it, you are laughing and smiling with them and have forgotten about whatever it was that had upset you in the first place."

"Great answer!" The emcee turned to the audience and restated my answer in Thai while I stood next to her, still smiling.

ROUND 3: TALENT

What would a pageant be without a talent round? My kind of pageant is what it would be. But unfortunately, this was not my pageant. This was the Miss Songkran Contest. And unless the talent round involved being a big nerd (i.e. reading poetry, doing calculus, translating Japanese) I was positive I would fail miserably. But just as this was not a typical beauty pageant, this was not an ordinary talent round where contestants actually brought their own talent. No, for this "talent" round, your talent was chosen for you.

My talent? Making somtam (spicy papaya salad). I eat somtam, but could I make it?

They lined three of us remaining "beauties" along the front of the stage, placed the necessary ingredients and tools in front of us, set a stopwatch and shouted, "You have two minutes. GO!"

We all began frantically dumping ingredients in the mortar, pounding with the pestle, praying that what we were creating would somehow resemble somtam, all the while smiling, smiling ...

When the time was up, the emcee asked us to pick up our bowls and take them to the judges' table. The emcee added that "To protect their health, the judges will not be tasting your somtam, just looking at it!" Wise choice.

AND THE WINNER IS ...

Although I didn't win the contest, I did manage to make it to the final round by embarrassing myself thoroughly while looking like some old-school Thai drag queen, all the while smiling, smiling...

Second runner-up went to a Thai girl with dyed-blond hair (Funny fact # 1: One of the requirements of entry for this particular contest was that the contestant MUST be a foreigner. Apparently changing your hair color also changes your nationality!).

First runner-up was a girl from my agency (Funny fact #2: She was born and raised in Thailand.)

And the funniest fact of all, the title of the Khao San Road Miss Songkran Contest went to (drum roll please)...

The most masculine-looking "Miss" in the contest!

This "Miss" informed me later that she was told by her agent that the contest is rigged and it is all about your sponsor (sponsor names were displayed boldly on each contestant's sash) and more importantly, their money.

It's not about the beauty (obviously — look at our photos!). It's not about the talent (we were given ours!). It's Thailand. It's Songkran. And it's all about the money.

... And the manly women of course!

Ashley M. Fitzgerald spent a year and a half in Thailand as a teacher, model and program coordinator. She is now the international student adviser at Intercultural Communications College in Honolulu. She is a 2000 graduate of Harrisville Central School and a graduate of Middlebury (Vt.) College. "Grown Local, Gone Global" is published every other Sunday. Past columns are available at www.watertowndailytimes.com/section/grownlocalgoneglobal. Contact Ashley at afitzgerald@wdt.net.