It’s been a couple of months since Songkran 2025 in Bangkok, but the memories are still fresh—and honestly, unforgettable. Songkran isn’t just a water festival; it’s a full-blown, city-wide, soul-resetting experience that leaves you drenched in excitement, culture, and a bit of chaos (in the best way). If you’re curious what it’s like to experience Songkran solo while keeping things clean and classy, here’s a glimpse into my unforgettable trip to Thailand.
I just have to say, when it comes to events like Songkran, choosing the right group of people to hang out with makes all the difference. I can’t even imagine how the experience would’ve felt if my crew hadn’t been all-in—wading through muddy streets during water gun fights, or chasing late-night street food like it was part of the adventure. Those moments weren’t just fun—they were unforgettable. They gave my time in Bangkok a sense of realness, of authenticity. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of luxury—fancy restaurants, posh hotels—but to me, a real vacation means diving into the chaos, getting messy, and living like a local. That’s where the magic is. That’s legit immersion.
In brief, here’s a concise summary of the trip, broken down by day:
Day 0 (3 Apr 2025): Airport Chronicles
Took a bus to the airport for a 1 AM flight to Bangkok. Faced drama in the crowded departure queue with an Arab couple complaining about personal space. Check-in issues arose due to a payment mix-up, but resolved after verification. Boarded with relief, leaving the chaos behind.
Day 1 (4 Apr 2025): Touchdown Bangkok - Lost in Silom
Arrived at Suvarnabhumi Airport, navigated immigration, and took the Airport Rail Link to Silom. Struggled to find the hostel due to Google Maps confusion and dealt with WiFi issues at a café while working remotely. Stocked up on toiletries, bought a Thai SIM card, and enjoyed street food. Skipped a night out at GOD club due to exhaustion.
Day 2 (5 Apr 2025): First Taste of Bangkok Nightlife
Started with a McDonald’s breakfast due to late-opening shops. Organized Songkran plans for friends via Excel. Visited GOD club at night, initially quiet but later packed with vibrant energy, dancing, and a celebrity sighting (former Mister Gay World Philippines contestant). Left at 2 AM, thrilled by the nostalgic club vibe.
Day 3 (6 Apr 2025): Onsen Vibes
Visited Kaikan Onsen for a relaxing evening. Enjoyed the clean, modern facilities, including pools, sauna, and steam room. Observed a lively “show” in a mirrored maze and relaxed on an open balcony under a cherry blossom tree. Declined a casual encounter for safety, leaving refreshed by tuk-tuk.
Day 4 (7 Apr 2025): Work and Street Food
Struggled with remote work amidst festive Silom vibes. Indulged in street food (noodles, fried rice, mango with salt) while dodging hygiene concerns like rats and dripping water. Took a walk through Silom to soak in the pre-Songkran atmosphere, spotting early crowds but saving energy for later.
Day 5 (8 Apr 2025): Broke but Party-Bound
Scrambled to afford GCircuit passes for the Opening and Pool Parties, managing finances with an Excel sheet to coordinate friends. Napped and lost money gambling online. Reflected on navigating Songkran’s chaos with limited funds, trusting the process to make it work.
Day 6 (9 Apr 2025): Passport Panic
Nearly lost valid passport after mistakenly carrying an expired one to a money changer. Panicked, checked the hostel, then realized it was left at a 7-Eleven during SIM card purchase. Retrieved it with immense relief, learning to keep documents secure.
Day 7 (10 Apr 2025): Chakran and BEEF Night
Welcomed new friends and visited Chakran bathhouse, enjoying its gym, pool, and rooftop. Watched a tame “show” and slept briefly in a private room. Later, spontaneously hit BEEF, a lively bear club, dancing and connecting with strangers until 2 AM, followed by street noodles.
Day 8 (11 Apr 2025): Krubb and Reflections
Discovered GCircuit tickets were sold out, adjusting expectations for the circuit party vibe. Visited Krubb bathhouse, ranking it above others for its relaxed vibe. Watched a poolside show with vodka shots, but felt a sense of emptiness, craving deeper connections beyond the party scene.
Day 9 (12 Apr 2025): GCircuit Opening Party
Secured last-minute GCircuit tickets despite card issues. Attended the Opening Party at Emsphere Mall, dazzled by LED visuals and go-go dancers. Enjoyed the vibrant crowd but felt drained by 1 AM. Walked back amidst Songkran water fights, marveling at Bangkok’s endless gay energy.
Day 10 (13 Apr 2025): Songkran Water Wars and GOD
Battled a fever but joined the Silom water parade, soaking strangers with water guns. Enjoyed DJs and K-pop dancing amidst the chaos. Returned to GOD club, feeling its sacred, sweaty vibe. Observed the diverse crowd, danced, and reflected on fleeting connections until 2 AM.
Day 11 (14 Apr 2025): Rain and Underground
Missed a free Songkran ferry ride but strolled the art street near Khao San. Hid from rain in an art café, then visited Underground bathhouse, finding it dated and unhygienic. Connected briefly with a local, appreciating his blunt honesty. Ended with a Chinatown dinner and Taylor Swift sing-along.
Day 12 (15 Apr 2025): Farewell GOD and Home
Spent the last day resting, packing, and nursing a fever. Enjoyed seafood fried rice and connected with a Grindr couple from the hostel. Hit GOD for a final, low-key night. Took a Bolt to the airport at 3 AM, returned to Manila broke but fulfilled, missing Pinoy food and reflecting on an unforgettable trip.
Pre-Flight Drama.
The Airport Chronicles (3 April 2025)
The trip started right after work. I hopped on a bus straight to the airport, trying to get there early for my 1AM flight to Bangkok. Thankfully, the bus ride was smooth, but the departure queue was packed like a sardine can.
Now here comes the drama: an Arab couple in line near me got overly dramatic about personal space—even though we were obviously being jostled around in a packed line. The husband tells me, “Distance, my friend,” and I’m thinking, “Are you serious right now?” I kept my cool and distanced myself, but guess who was still stuck in line when I was already checking in? Yep, karma works fast.
Even the check-in counter gave me a mini heart attack. The staff insisted I hadn’t paid for check-in, even though I’d done it online. One calm smirk later—and a bit of digital double-checking—she found my name. Boarding pass in hand, I marched off, leaving all the nonsense behind.
Day 1.
Touchdown Bangkok: Lost in Silom & Wifi Woes (4 April 2025)
Arriving at Suvarnabhumi Airport, I immediately spotted the same annoying couple. No thanks—I slowed down and slipped away unnoticed. Immigration was smooth, and soon I was on the Airport Rail Link to Silom, one of Bangkok’s busiest and most vibrant districts.
Travel Tip: If you plan on using public transport often, grab a Bangkok Metro Day Pass—super cost-effective and convenient.
Finding my hostel was a mini adventure of its own. Google Maps kept spinning me in circles, and I was lugging heavy bags under the heat. Eventually, I found the hostel tucked in a hidden corner. The receptionist was kind enough to let me leave my bags, but check-in wasn’t until 2PM.
Since it was a working day for me, I needed WiFi—except the hostel’s Internet was down. Great. I dragged myself to a nearby café, ordered a berry shake for the WiFi password, only to realize I needed a socket adaptor for my laptop. Cue a dash to 7-Eleven.
Note to self: never leave your valuables in a café unattended, even if it’s for 10 minutes. I got lucky.
With the WiFi barely holding up and my coworkers checking in on me, I decided to stop stressing and just wait for check-in. I crashed hard in the dorm, which thankfully had a comfy bed and some privacy. That night, I stocked up on toiletries and bought a Thai SIM card (you’ll need to present your passport).
Exhausted but finally settled, I wandered out for street food dinner—questionable hygiene, amazing taste—and skipped out on an invite to GOD Bangkok, one of the city's most famous gay clubs. I had zero energy left. Tomorrow, though, was another story.
Day 2.
First Taste of Bangkok Nightlife – Welcome to GOD (5 April 2025)
The next day started slow. Most shops in Bangkok open late, so breakfast was a reluctant McDonald's meal. I saw a few familiar faces from my hostel but wasn’t in a social mood.
Most of my day was spent organizing travel plans in an Excel sheet—several friends were arriving in the next few days and I wanted to sync our Songkran itinerary. But come nightfall, it was finally time to check out GOD (Guys on Display).
Initial thoughts? Meh. I got there around 9PM, and the place was empty. Entry was 500 baht and came with two drinks. I stayed on the ground floor with a vodka pineapple, until my friend R showed up with a group. They took me upstairs—and that’s when the party exploded.
By midnight, GOD was packed wall-to-wall. Naked torsos everywhere, strobe lights, sweaty dancing, and a full-on gay club fever dream. It was nostalgic—like Che’Lu and Bed in Malate from the old Manila scene, but on steroids.
And then, the fanboy moment: I bumped into a former Mister Gay World Philippines contestant. Naturally, I asked for a selfie. By the time Lady Gaga’s “Abracadabra” blasted through the speakers, I knew the night had peaked. I called it a night at 2AM.
Day 3.
Onsen Vibes: A Chill Way to End the Weekend (6 April 2025)
After all the excitement, Sunday was about winding down. Around 7PM, I visited Kaikan Onsen, one of Bangkok’s newest gay men’s onsens. A 15-minute tuktuk ride took me to this clean, relaxing, and modern spot. It was the perfect way to detox—mentally and physically—from the chaos of the previous night.
Upon arrival, I was greeted by a nice man from the window. Shoes had to be taken off, and I had no clue what had to be done. Apparently you need to place the shoes inside the bags (they provide) and leave them at the counter. They also provide small towels - barely covering anything so you are really meant to be naked inside the onsen. From the entry, the lockers are the first thing you'll see. On the side is the lounge with the alcohol. And moving inside, the shower area and the powder area. There's a sliding door that goes to the pool - there are hot and not so hot pools. And by the corner are the sauna and steam. The pool was big and cozy for swimming laps. The sauna and steam are rather small - seems like it wasn't really meant to hold many people at a time.
There's a second floor where private rooms are located - and at 8pm they have some kind of show where lights are put out and everyone is free to grope around. The maze was lined up with mirrors and if you not careful, then it's so easy to bump into walls. There's a big hall surrounded by mirrors where people converge and have fun. It was fun to witness it all. But it was perhaps that open balcony that really caught my attention. Overlooking the open sky, and adorned with an artificial cherry blossom tree - I laid there naked in one of the lounge chairs. Slept for a few minutes and thought that it was all too quiet and restful. Something that I needed from the week's stress.
It was around 10 p.m. and the crowd had started to thin out. I decided to head back for one last dip in the pool—naked, carefree, like I had nothing in the world to worry about. After floating around for a bit and letting the water soothe my now-exhausted limbs, I wandered into the steam room again. This time, there were only three of us inside. The other two guys were clearly up to something—and they weren’t exactly being discreet. They gave me a look, the kind that needs no words, signaling me to join in. But I told myself to chill. This wasn’t my turf, and I had no idea what kind of surprise souvenirs I could catch from a night of reckless fun. STDs are no joke, and honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to risk it. So I stayed on the sidelines, a curious observer. Eventually, they left, and I found myself alone in the sauna, sweat mixing with reflection.
Sometimes, I think back and wonder—what if I had joined them? But then I picture all the awkward clinic visits, the medication routines, and the sheer stress of it all, and I’m just grateful I kept my cool. I’d had my share of fun already, and just watching was oddly satisfying in its own right.
Not long after the two guys disappeared, I took it as my cue to leave too. I rinsed off in the showers, feeling clean, calm, and oddly proud of my self-restraint. My time at Kaikan had been incredible—relaxing, wild, a little surreal—and I’d definitely come back if given the chance.
Using the BOLT app, I called a tuk-tuk and zipped through the Bangkok night back to my hostel. There’s something about riding a tuk-tuk here that I absolutely love. It’s chaotic, loud, and slightly death-defying—but that’s exactly what makes it such a thrill.
Day 4.
What the Hell Am I Still Doing Working? (7 Apr 2025)
Today was all about remote work—well, supposedly. I holed up in my room, eyes glazed over my laptop screen, trying to squeeze out some productivity. I'm technically on duty until April 10, which means three more days of pretending I care. But let’s be real: my mind has already checked out and is somewhere on a dance floor in Silom.
The whole vibe in the area has been ridiculously festive this week, like a pressure cooker about to blow. I couldn’t focus, so in between half-hearted emails, I kept myself entertained by eating everything I could find on the street. Bangkok has an endless buffet of glorious, questionably clean food—and I fully gave in. My favorites? Noodles with pork and blood, fried rice, and mango slices with sweetened salt that probably shouldn’t be that good but absolutely are.
To survive this assault on my digestive system, I made sure to drink one of those probiotic shots from 7-Eleven every day. I forgot the name, but whatever it was, it’s a miracle worker. Considering what I was eating, that drink deserves a Nobel Prize.
At one point, I was eating at a street kiosk when two massive rats casually strolled right in front of my table like it was rush hour. No one else flinched. Another time, I saw water dripping from the rusty roof directly into the food stall’s pot. I felt a full-body shiver and almost dry-heaved. That's the kind of filth that gives you Hepatitis—or worse, a new strain of gastroenteritis. And yet… did I stop eating? Absolutely not. I think at this point the parasites in my stomach are just clinking glasses and yelling, “Cheers!”
Later that evening, I took a walk through Silom just to soak in the pre-party atmosphere. The real madness doesn’t start for another three days, so it’s still relatively calm. I did spot a few groups of handsome Chinese guys here and there, but it’s not peak season yet, so I wasn’t expecting a full parade just yet.
Three more days of pretending to work. Let’s see how long I last.
Here’s a polished and more engaging version of your Day 5 journal, keeping your voice intact but improving clarity, flow, and humor—plus a catchy title:
Day 5.
Broke but Party-Bound: Manifesting My Way into GCircuit (8 Apr 2025)
I still hadn’t bought my GCircuit passes, and to be honest, I wasn’t feeling too pressed about it—mainly because my budget was hanging by a thread. What I had was just enough to get me through the week, and those passes are not cheap. I mean, are they made of gold? Do they come with a boyfriend?
But after crunching the numbers, making a few desperate calls to friends (and the Universe), I somehow scraped together just enough to secure tickets to two events: the Opening Party and the legendary Pool Party. That’s it. Anything more and I’d be living off street mangoes until further notice. Still, I figured two events were enough for a first-timer. I just wanted to see what all the GCircuit fuss was about—firsthand, not from someone’s overly filtered Instagram Story.
While juggling finances like a broke magician, I was also trying to keep track of who in our group was attending which events. So naturally, I made an Excel sheet—because what screams party planner like color-coded columns and formulas? I needed to know who’s going where, who’s showing up for what, and who might just disappear for a secret hook-up and never be seen again.
Looking back, I genuinely don’t know how I managed to coordinate this crew. Everyone had their own moods and motives—some days I wanted to be alone, other days I craved company. I’m pretty sure everyone else felt the same. Still, there I was, acting like the gay camp counselor of Songkran, determined to make sure no one missed anything major.
Songkran, for me, was an uncharted jungle—loud, chaotic, sexy, unpredictable—and I was just learning to navigate it. Thankfully, I had more seasoned friends guiding me through. Honestly, it's kind of a miracle I pulled it all off. Limited budget, overlapping events, clashing schedules… and yet, somehow, it all worked out. Trust the process, they say. Or in my case: trust the chaos and manifest hard.
As for the rest of the day? Uneventful. I stayed in my room, mostly napping and—this is embarrassing—gambling online with an app called Scatter. Big mistake. Huge. (Note to self: online gambling is a scam. Always has been. You are not the chosen one.)
Day 6.
Passport Panic at the 7-Eleven (9 Apr 2025)
This afternoon started off chill—I just needed to exchange some money. I remembered passing by a money changer a few days ago, so I headed there, cash and passport in hand. Or so I thought.
I reached the counter, handed over my bills and what I believed was my passport. The cashier glanced at it and asked, “Do you have a valid one?” I blinked. What? I gave her my passport. But when she returned it, my heart dropped into my flip-flops—it was my old passport. The expired one. Two holes punched right through.
Panic mode: activated.
My mind was racing. Where the hell is my actual passport? I sprinted back to the hostel, tore through my bag, checked every pocket, every zipper. Nothing. I was spiraling. Without a passport, I’d need to go to the embassy, deal with paperwork, wait who-knows-how-long—and my return flight’s on the 16th. I didn't have time for that drama.
I ran down to reception and asked the staff if maybe they still had my passport from check-in. Nope. Nothing in the drawer, nothing under the counter. The girl was kind but firm: if it had been there, they would’ve given it back immediately. Fair enough.
Then, in the middle of my silent meltdown, it hit me: 7-Eleven. When I bought my SIM card the other day, they needed my passport to register it. I must have left it there. I bolted out the door, praying to every travel god I could think of.
And there it was. At the 7-Eleven counter. My valid, beautiful, life-saving passport. Sitting there like it hadn’t just aged me ten years in stress.
I cannot describe the wave of relief that washed over me. No emergency embassy visit. No missed flight. Just a near-heart attack and a very valuable life lesson: keep your documents close, and maybe don’t carry expired passports around like decoys.
Had I not tried to change money today, I wouldn’t have discovered the missing passport until the airport—and that would’ve been a full-blown disaster. Timing really is everything.
Moral of the story? Thank heavens for forgetfulness with good timing—and 7-Eleven employees who don’t throw stuff away.
Day 7.
From Steam Rooms to Rooftop Raves: A Very Gay Bangkok Marathon (10 Apr 2025)
Today marked the arrival of two more Filipino joiners—and on the agenda? A visit to the infamous Chakran, one of Bangkok’s most talked-about gay bathhouses.
I volunteered to pick one of them up from his hotel—mostly because I was nosy and wanted to see the place myself. During the booking period, we had a hell of a time dealing with the hotel’s rigid travel agent, so I was curious. Verdict? The hotel was old, but surprisingly spacious.
By late afternoon, we arrived at Chakran right on time. One of the joiners, V, was actually staying there—apparently Chakran offers accommodation, and guests get complimentary access to the bathhouse. Sounds tempting, but let’s be real: you’re not getting any sleep in a place where the moaning doesn’t stop until sunrise.
So it was me and K, meeting up with V and R inside. First time at Chakran for me. The process was simple: pay the entrance, get a locker key and a towel. Entry also comes with either two beers or one cocktail, which already felt like a deal.
The place was larger and cleaner than I expected. The shared showers were a bit cramped, but functional. The building stretches upward—first floor is a gym (yes, people actually work out here), second floor has themed private rooms, and the rooftop? That’s where the real action is: pool, steam, sauna, bar, and a series of straw huts perfect for… whatever you imagine.
And guess who I randomly bump into at the gym? A Filipino friend I used to run into at clubs back home. Small world! Turns out he’s in a throuple now. Was I surprised? Kinda. But also happy for him—he seemed content, and his partners were lovely.
By 8 PM, a “show” started in a glass-walled room near the pool. A group performance by Thai locals, which honestly felt pretty tame given the scene. The real action followed when everyone migrated to the straw huts. Classic. I stayed on the sidelines—watching, touching, but keeping my inner beast on a leash. I blame the cocktail, or maybe the steam room, or the passport stress hangover from the night before. Whatever it was, I suddenly felt drowsy.
So yes, I slept at Chakran. In one of the rooms. On a bed that was still sticky with the essence of strangers past. I didn't care. My eyes were closing and my body was done for the night. That is, until someone tried opening the door and I jolted awake.
Funny how I always end up sleeping in Bangkok bathhouses. For what they charge, they might as well include breakfast and a wake-up call.
By midnight, things took a turn. We spontaneously decided to go to BEEF—yes, that bear club in Silom. Everyone was clearly running on fumes, but who could resist a Friday night at BEEF?
From Chakran, we trekked to Ari station, still half undecided. But once we hit Silom station, we committed. BEEF is surprisingly tucked away at the rooftop of a mall—who would've thought? By the time we got there, the queue was already snaking outside.
Inside? Total chaos. Bodies packed wall to wall. The bar felt like a mosh pit. Your entrance includes two drinks, but I knew better than to pace myself in a crowd like that. I claimed both drinks at once and retreated to a quiet corner near the exit.
From there, I watched the whole scene unfold—bears, twinks, daddies, muscle queens, every shade and shape of gay imaginable. What I loved most? No one cared what you looked like. No ego. No judgment. Just people dancing, laughing, and vibing. For once, I didn’t feel the need to perform or pose. I just… existed. And that felt amazing.
Eventually, I found my friends outside, chatting with random strangers. With a bit of alcohol courage in my veins, I started talking too. No agenda, just nonsense. Met some guys from Malaysia, swapped Instagram handles, danced K-pop choreo like nobody was watching (except everyone was, and they lived for it).
By 2 AM, we were starving. We stumbled out and found ourselves eating noodles at a street stall—because what else do you do after clubbing in Bangkok?
And then—plot twist—we ran into this guy from the Philippines, famous for wearing bikinis with an eagle tattoo on his chest. Turns out, he was just leaving DJ Station. We chatted for a bit. Surprisingly fluent in English, charming as hell.
One of my friends still wanted to push for GOD (another club), but at that point, my feet were dead and my soul was begging for a mattress. I politely declined and headed back to the hostel, where sleep hit me like a train.
Day 8.
Vodka, Vibes, and a Void: Bathhouse Realizations in Bangkok (11 Apr 2025)
This morning, I checked the GCircuit website again and nearly choked on my iced coffee—tickets were sold out. I sat there frozen, thinking that’s it, I’m out. No GCircuit for me.
In hindsight, I had this O-Bar fantasy about GCircuit. I imagined drag shows, epic performances, spotlights—basically a big gay concert. But after attending one event, reality hit: it’s not a stage show, it’s a circuit party. Very different vibe. Slightly disappointing, but hey—charge it to experience.
Later, I read somewhere that tickets might still be available at the door, though at a higher price. So I told myself: I’ll try tomorrow. If I can get in, great. If not, at least my wallet will breathe.
Anyway, tonight was about Krubb, Bangkok’s rising star in the bathhouse scene. I went with some of the gang—it was my second time, and honestly, between Krubb and Chakran, I’d say Krubb wins. If I had to rank the bathhouses I’ve visited so far:
1. Krubb
2. Chakran
3. Sauna Mania
4. Ratsada
5. Underground
There’s a new one called 1/0, but I haven’t tried it yet. Maybe when I come back for White Party Bangkok in December.
Back to Krubb—when I arrived, the place was already buzzing and lockers were full. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to get mine. Key #1, not bad! As I climbed the stairs, I passed by a sea of naked bodies—some just arriving, others already glowing with post-sauna satisfaction.
Soon I found a few friends inside. Krubb just felt... right. People were relaxed, unbothered, minding their own business. The rooftop had a pool, a bar, and of course, the sauna and steam room. I skipped the steam this time—the floor was flooded and looked like a breeding ground for bacteria, warts, or both. Sauna it is.
Inside the sauna was a mix of Asians and a few Middle Eastern men. Everyone was quiet—until a loud group of Filipinos started chatting like they were at a family reunion. I couldn’t help but overhear. One guy, apparently a content creator from the Philippines, was bragging about being flown in to perform during Songkran. Look, I mind my business—but they were so loud, it felt like they’d invited me into their entire life story.
And then—well, I had to get out, and the guy was blocking my way. So yes, I grabbed his shoulders and jumped forward. He let out a soft “ouch,” and I didn’t look back. Survival instincts.
Later, I made my way to the food area—not much there except pretzels and a bowl of lonely peanuts. By 8 PM, the poolside show began. I recognized one of the dancers from my last visit—tall, ripped, and confident—but this time he was joined by a charming new guy with a killer smile. Both had bums that could stop traffic. They danced, flirted, and handed out vodka shots straight from the bottle. Iconic.
The show ended, and the energy slowly scattered. The only downside of Krubb? Not enough private rooms. People ended up loitering or getting busy in semi-public spaces. Crowds touching crowds, groping like human waterfalls. It made me wonder how casually people treat the risks. I wasn’t judging—just thinking.
By then, most of my friends had disappeared. One left early, another was clearly with someone. My phone died (of course), so I had to borrow a phone to book a tuk-tuk ride back to the hostel.
As I sat in the back of the tuk-tuk, Bangkok lights flashing past, I felt... something. Not sadness exactly, but a weird emptiness. It was fun. But I kept thinking—I can’t keep doing this. I’m not here for the sex. I’m not looking for someone in a place like that. I just want peace. Something quieter. Something real.
Maybe it’s the alcohol talking. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m craving a different kind of connection.
Day 9.
Gays, Glitter, and Gyrating Go-Go Boys: GCircuit Takes My Last Baht (12 Apr 2025)
Today was the big one: GCircuit Opening Party. I was down to my last financial breath, yet somehow still convincing myself, YOLO. My plan was simple—try to score tickets for the Opening Night and maybe, just maybe, the Pool Boy Party. Emphasis on "maybe" because at this point, my wallet was basically crying in gay.
I left the hostel early, determined to get ahead of the queue. The ticket booth was supposedly somewhere in Emsphere Mall, but of course, no one bothered to say where in Emsphere. I ended up wandering around cluelessly, following the unofficial trail of shirtless men holding waterproof pouches. Once I spotted a cluster of gays in tight tanks and pastel mesh shorts, I knew I was close. I asked around and, thankfully, found the booth within minutes.
Shockingly, the line wasn’t long. But plot twist—my card got declined. Multiple times. I had a minor internal meltdown, then sprinted to the nearest ATM. Miraculously, the card worked there (thank the gay gods), and I withdrew just enough to buy the Opening Night ticket. And because I’m a sucker for peer pressure and hot torsos, I went ahead and got the Pool Boy Party ticket too. I also topped up my GCircuit bracelet with 600 baht for each event. That’s all the alcohol budget I can afford—and probably the last of my liver cells too.
I hailed a tuk-tuk back to my hostel, got ready, picked up K from his hotel, and we made our way back to Emsphere. To avoid traffic, we even took separate tuk-tuks like real city gays on a mission.
The GCircuit Opening Party
The venue was the top floor of Emsphere Mall, which didn’t look like much at first. But once you get past the escalators, boom—gay Narnia. Giant LED panels played AI-generated eye candy. Booths lined the walkway with half-naked promo boys throwing freebies like Mardi Gras beads. Naturally, I took photos like a tourist at a wax museum with abs.
Inside the hall, it was all shadows and strobes. The space was wide open with a massive center stage, flanked by bar counters. Drinks were a disappointment—400 baht for what tasted like fizzy juice with a whisper of vodka. I guess they’re keeping the crowd hydrated instead of drunk.
K and I found a spot near the right side of the stage—perfect balance between decent view and elbow room. The center crowd was already thick with shirtless, sweaty bodies clinging to each other like Velcro.
Around midnight, the real show began. The DJ dropped the main set and the room exploded into a euphoric, shirtless mess. Then came the go-go dancers in scandalously vibrant briefs, dancing like rent was due tonight (and tips were oral). Literally. Audience members slipped bills into their mouths, and the go-go boys took them... with their mouths. No hands. Just pure jaw strength and gay audacity.
I gotta admit, it was entertaining. I watched, cheered, sipped my barely-alcoholic cocktail, and people-watched like I was at the Met Gala for circuit queens.
By 1 AM though, I hit a wall. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. I walked around a bit to see if there was anything else, and bumped into some familiar faces from Beef. They were drenched in sweat and joy. Unfortunately, their joy got all over me—literally. I was moist by association.
Eventually, I said my goodbyes, waved my last brain cell farewell, and grabbed a tuk-tuk home. The driver couldn’t drop me right at the hostel—the roads were blocked off due to ongoing water fights (yes, Bangkok’s Songkran madness was in full swing). I walked the rest of the way, and as I passed GOD, I saw the line stretching outside. I stood there in awe. GCircuit is packed, and yet GOD is also full? Where are all these gays coming from? Are we multiplying like Gremlins after midnight?
The world may never know. But tonight, I knew one thing: I danced, I paid, I sweated, and I lived. And maybe tomorrow, I’ll figure out how to survive the rest of this trip on breadcrumbs and leftover vodka.
Day 10.
Worship, Water Guns, and the Gay Gods of Silom (13 Apr 2025)
Today was supposed to be all about soaking strangers in the water parade, but my body had other ideas. I woke up feeling the creeping signs of fever and a sore throat clawing their way through me—but hell if I was going to let a minor viral uprising ruin Songkran.
I met K near Pratunam to hunt for slippers, while he was on a mission to find luggage. We stumbled across a pharmacy, and by divine Thai mercy, I learned you need to consult a doctor on-site before getting meds. Surprisingly efficient—I got a prescription and a three-a-day pill regimen for whatever bug I’d picked up. Honestly, a pretty sleek system, even if it screamed "you’re sick, deal with it."
Since the mall turned out to be a bust, we detoured to the nearby public market. Even at noon, the heat was punishing and the crowd relentless. After an hour of walking through a maze of stalls, I finally found my slippers, and K managed to snag a bag. Victories all around. We headed back to pick up the rest of the crew. D bailed and stayed at the hotel, but three of us headed straight for Silom—ground zero for Bangkok’s wet and wild chaos.
Traffic was impossible, so the cab dropped us at the nearest intersection. From there, it was pure, joyful madness. The streets were flooded—not just with water, but with people drenched in glee and gallons of icy ambush. We were instantly soaked. The fun part? You get to shoot the hottest guys without getting arrested. A six-pack? That's your target. A smile? That’s a bonus.
Silom Street turns into a 45-minute, wet runway filled with water stations (some free, most for 1 baht), dancing booths, DJs, and half-naked Thai boys busting moves to K-pop. It's part Mardi Gras, part water war, all fabulous. The only real problem? Pee. Public toilets are rare, and let’s just say, a lot of people were... discreetly hydrating the pavement.
After hours of aquatic battle, we grabbed a meal at a local stall and made our plan: GOD club, round two.
This time, our group was larger—six of us diving into Bangkok’s most infamous gay club. We arrived fashionably late, knowing the place only hits critical mass at midnight. We ventured up to the third floor to snoop around. The view from above? Shirtless bodies pulsing on the dance floor, like some homoerotic scene from 300, minus the swords but with just as much sweat.
And then it hit me: GOD isn’t just a club—it’s a temple.
This is where gays come to worship. Not Zeus or Apollo, but adrenaline, lust, and the ecstasy of being seen. The thumping bass is the hymn. The sweat is the holy water. The prayers? Whispered, moaned, or shouted while grinding against someone you may never meet again.
Back on the second floor, we perched at the balcony, sipping overpriced drinks and watching the chaos unfold below. The DJ blasted EDM while guys fought for attention on a central platform like glittery gladiators. And then came the boys—Indonesians, Malaysians, Chinese guys everywhere. A tall stranger pressed up against me, grinding silently. I couldn’t see his face, only feel... let’s say... his presence. I tried to grab him, but so did other hands. The mystery stayed that way.
Later, I ran into someone I’d once invited to a group fun in Manila. Turns out he’s married now—to a very sweet guy. That explained his ghosting. I wasn’t mad. Actually, I was happy for him. In a world like this, finding love is a damn miracle.
By 2am, the crowd turned from “wild” to “stampede.” Trying to leave the dance floor was like escaping a mosh pit in stilettos. Elbows, sweat, egos—everywhere. I noticed something: the most beautiful men often carried the most fragile egos. Like predators sensing rivals, they sized you up, defended invisible boundaries, and guarded their glow like dragons guarding glitter.
Eventually I clawed my way out, drenched in sweat and regret, and rejoined my friends. We sat back, surrounded by a blur of people snogging, writhing, and grinding. While the room blurred into one giant mass of lust and lights, we were just... still. Observers of a sacred ritual.
And honestly? It was kind of beautiful. Kind of gross. Totally unforgettable.
Day 11.
Rain, Regrets & Rice Noodles (14 Apr 2025)
The last day of Songkran felt like the festival was winding down—and so was I. My friends had no concrete plans, and neither did I. So when R said he was heading to see the river cruise near Khao San and walk along the art street, I decided to tag along. The weather? Moody. The rain came in spurts, but not enough to stop us from exploring.
Of course, I arrived late (classic me), and by the time I reached the dock, the ferry had already floated off without me. Bangkok offers this short, free 15-minute ferry ride during Songkran, which I completely missed. But the upside? I got to stroll solo along the art street—a refreshing change of pace. There’s something deeply grounding about walking through stalls showcasing paintings, photos, and local crafts. You could feel the soul of the city in every brushstroke. It wasn’t just art—it was Bangkok’s culture defying time, tourist trends, and TikTok.
Eventually, the drizzle turned to a proper pour. I ducked into a small restaurant to warm up with a bowl of local noodles. Thai food never disappoints. My only concern was the water—I’ve learned the hard way that Bangkok’s tap isn’t my tummy’s best friend. Just as I was slurping the last of my soup, R and his brother showed up but decided to chase a different craving and left. Before I finished, another friend arrived, and we walked together to catch up with R. It was already noon and still pouring.
We ended up in a cozy art café—a minimalist spot lined with coffee table books used as decor (or conversation starters for awkward Tinder dates). Some customers were decorating cakes as a kind of edible art therapy. It had the vibes of a rainy-day hideout: soft music, scribbled notebooks, and people pretending to write novels. A few more friends joined us, and we just sat around that table, soaking in the lazy, post-festival haze.
By 2 PM, the group started to disperse. No plans, no pressure. But me? I had one last curiosity to check off before leaving Bangkok: a bathhouse called "Underground." The name alone sounded like it belonged in a gay mystery novel, so I hopped on a motorbike and went.
The Underground: Where Mystery Meets Mold
The place was old—not vintage-old, more like “Grandma’s-basement-meets-grindr” old. There was a queue at the entrance, which wasn’t surprising—it’s still Songkran, after all. The clientele seemed to skew towards the mid-to-late 30s crowd. After paying, I was handed a key, a padlock, and a towel. No slippers though—which was a red flag because the floor? Let’s just say it had seen things.
Just past the entrance were the sauna and steam areas. The sauna smelled faintly of decaying wood, and the steam room was so dark it felt like being in a sensory deprivation experiment. It even had a maze-like interior designed for cruising—cool for some, but I wasn’t feeling the whole “blinded-in-the-dark” fantasy.
Upstairs was the bar and locker area, with a few loud Chinese guys dominating the space. They served alcohol and bar snacks, and there was a stairway that led to—surprise—a pitch-black cruising labyrinth. I wandered around, trying to get a feel for the place (and maybe someone else), but everyone kept moving. It was like Tinder, but real-life and on fast-forward.
Eventually, I found myself just sitting in one of the rooms. The “beds” were questionably hygienic, and the air reeked of... decisions. I wasn’t planning to use them anyway, so I just observed. After a while, I climbed up to a semi-open rooftop room, expecting it to be empty, but there was a local guy resting. We started talking. The vibe was calm, not sleazy—just two tired strangers exchanging stories under the sound of distant rain.
He told me, “You have a nice face—not a good body.”
And weirdly enough, I laughed. Because it was true. I had definitely gone soft. Belly out, chest sagging, looking bloated and older than I felt. But in that moment, his blunt honesty didn’t sting—it comforted me. Someone noticed me, flaws and all.
I told him to lie down, and I took the lead. Nothing wild, just something to mark the end of a strange, wonderful trip. Afterward, I said goodbye. I wanted to get back before the sky opened up again.
Last Night Blues & Bunk Bed Battles
It was my final night in Bangkok, and I was feeling the weight of it. I had no more money, which meant no more detours or spontaneous stops. Still, I wasn’t complaining. Songkran gave me more than enough memories to carry home.
The hostel had moved me to the 4th floor, top bunk, next to the door—the worst possible bed assignment. Climbing up and down for the bathroom or digging into my distant locker felt like a full workout. But I was leaving soon anyway, so whatever. I made a mental note to write down some hostel tips for future me (or future readers):
Quick Hostel Survival Tips (Especially for Songkran):
-
Location is everything. Stay near your main activity hub—Silom, if you're in it for the parade. Saves time and sanity.
-
Check online reviews. Pictures lie. Other travelers don’t (well, not always).
-
Laundry matters. During Songkran, you're constantly wet. Make sure your hostel lets you wash or at least dry your stuff.
-
Food nearby = lifeline. Go for a place close to street food stalls or diners. Late-night cravings are real.
-
Avoid beds by the door. Unless you enjoy people stomping in at 3 AM, flipping the lights, and rummaging like raccoons.
Final Feast in Chinatown
For my farewell dinner, we headed to Chinatown—a food lover’s paradise. My heart was set on seafood, and the sight of grilled crabs nearly made me cry. But the group wanted something else, so we ended up in an open food court area. It didn’t matter. The BBQ skewers there were phenomenal—cheap, smoky, perfect.
One of our friends was supposed to join but had a motorbike accident earlier. Total bummer, especially since he'd been planning to meet us for days. Thankfully, he had travel insurance, but still—poor guy missed a lot.
While we ate, a young local singer performed on stage, and when she sang Taylor Swift's "Love Story" and "You Belong with Me" - of course we went full Swiftie mode. Hands in the air, singing like no one was watching (but everyone was). That silly moment? It turned out to be one of the most joyful goodbyes I’ve ever had.
We ended the night with a few group photos in the glowing chaos of Chinatown. I looked tired. I felt full. But most of all, I felt grateful.
Tomorrow, I fly out. But tonight? Bangkok gave me her last hug in the form of a drizzle, a plate of BBQ, and a chorus of Taylor Swift. And honestly, that’s more than enough.
Day 12.
From Glitter to Grab Rides (15 Apr 2025)
It’s my last day in Bangkok. Hard to believe that two whole weeks have flown by. Honestly, I didn’t do much in the touristy sense — I spent most of my time lounging around the hostel — but this trip still gave me a much-needed escape. And now, as I’m packing up to leave, that familiar wave of anxiety is slowly creeping in. Reality awaits. Maybe I’ll do this again next year… maybe I won’t. Who knows?
With Songkran officially over and the crowds thinning out, I invited the gang for one final hurrah at GOD (yes, the club). Nothing else was really going on, and this felt like a fitting last dance. I packed my bags earlier in the day, downed some medicine and vitamin C (the fever I’d been dodging was catching up), and made sure my “last meal” in Bangkok was a worthy one — street-style seafood fried rice and juicy ripe mango. Still dreaming about those two.
Back at the hostel, I finally had a chat with the two guys I’d been messaging on Grindr — surprise twist: they were a couple, staying in the same dorm room, and from Mandaluyong! We had a good laugh, and I invited them to the farewell club night. They said they’d try to come.
Most of the day, I just lay in bed, nursing my body and counting down the hours. I also had to remind K to bring my shoes — I literally had nothing to wear on the flight the next morning!
The Last GOD Night
Night came. We hit GOD and returned to our usual spot on the second floor, facing the bar by the stairs. At this point, the glitz and shock factor of half-naked bodies writhing on the dance floor had worn off — we were just soaking in the moment, grateful for it. It felt like a final exhale. We danced, sat, laughed. Nothing extraordinary, but everything special.
By 2 a.m., it was time to say goodbye. C booked a Grab, but in typical chaotic Bangkok fashion, the pickup turned into a scavenger hunt. At one point, we were standing in the middle of a traffic island, waving at every approaching car like stranded pop stars. Turns out, the driver was parked far down the road the whole time.
Goodbye, Bangkok
I walked back to the hostel alone, mind racing. Should I take the metro to the airport or just splurge on a taxi? My back ached, my bags were heavy, and I was dead tired. So I said, “Screw it,” spent the 500 baht, and booked a Bolt.
At 3 a.m., I rolled out of the hostel for the last time, rode through the quiet city, and arrived at Suvarnabhumi just as the sun began to rise. Check-in was packed. While queuing, I spotted a few familiar faces from Twitter — Ate Dick and someone from Drag Race Philippines. Starstruck, half-dead, but moving.
Boarded. Slept. Landed.
Home, Hot and Humbled
Manila greeted me with heat, noise, and a not-so-friendly wallet balance. I had ₱2,000 left and zero intention of spending more than I had to. Instead of Grab, I opted for the good old public transpo — squeezed into a mini-bus and headed to the terminal. It was surprisingly fast.
Before catching my provincial bus, I stopped to eat: dinuguan and fried fish. God, how I missed Pinoy food. But as I stared at the stairs leading to the MRT, I remembered just how unrelenting Manila’s public transport can be. With two heavy bags and a head full of memories, I climbed anyway.
Exhausted. Broke. Sunburned. But happy.
I made it back. And a new adventure begins.
Final Thoughts: Is Songkran in Bangkok Worth It?
100% YES—even without the wild water fights (yet to come). Just a few days in and I’d already had the full Bangkok experience: airport drama, street food adventures, WiFi struggles, crazy nightlife, celebrity sightings, and even a caling onsen visit.
Would I go again? In a heartbeat.
If you’re planning to attend Songkran in Bangkok, prepare for unpredictable moments—but know that every second will be worth it. Stay safe, stay hydrated, and most of all—have the time of your life.
No comments:
Post a Comment
We'd love to hear from you. Comment your reactions below.