On Nov. 19, the waterways of the country will be beautified with florid, banana-leaf floats, lit up by flickering candle shadows, and perfumed with sandalwood incense. Providing the soundtrack will be youngsters, teenagers, and even some overgrown juvenile delinquents, armed with firecrackers, Roman candles, and bottle rockets, in order to blow off some pent-up aggression. 

On Loy Krathong, diversity is definitely an option. Whether you opt for the historic splendour of Sukhothai, a dinner cruise down Bangkok’s River of Kings, or telescoping your head to take in the hot-air balloons that lend Chiang Mai’s skyline an air of majesty, it won’t be a titanic blunder. 

Bear in mind, however, that Bangkok’s celebration this year is going to be especially eventful, and spill over six days, from Nov. 13-19. Staying true to tradition, the festivities will blast off around Sanam Luang, and the Bhurana Sirimat Tayaram Temple in the front of the Old City Moat. After the hoisting of lanterns around 6pm on the first day, this area of town is going to become part bazaar, part performing arts centre, part pyrotechnics zone, and all awash with people. 

In a renaissance of rituals spawned by Rattanakosin’s Royal Court, the “Festival of Lights” will have as its grand finale a procession of replicas of the Royal Barges. This armada will carry a sacred Buddha image, a traditional orchestra, and chanting boatmen, while another vessel in the procession serves as a launching pad for old-fashioned fireworks that will flare up and mimic the shapes of shooting stars, jungle creepers, and flower blossoms, before they burn out. 

But on Nov. 19 there may be as many pheromones in the air as there are dok mai fai (“fire flowers”) because Loy Krathong is a kind of Siamese, Valentine’s night for lovers and spouses. According to an age-old belief, when a couple goes to launch their krathongs, if the two float away together it means they will stay together for a long time. If one of them immediately capsizes, well, it’s probably not the best time to open a joint checking account. Meanwhile, out in the rice-paddy hinterlands, unattached teenagers, pining for some affection, or just someone to belittle behind their back, will kneel down by the water’s edge and pray for a partner in romance. 

With its dramatic backdrop of religious ruins silver-plated by a full moon, Sukhothai’s Historical Park is the most atmospheric place to take in Loy Krathong. And here is where the festival began a few centuries ago, when the legendary and nimble-fingered Nang Noppamat (a royal consort of King Lithai) sculpted the first krathong in the shape of a lotus blossom by using banana leaves, the bark of the banana tree, or a spider lily plant. Then she filled the tiny vessel with food, betel nuts, flowers, smoking joss-sticks, and coins. These items were intended to curry favour with various divinities. 

At first glance it might seem like an affront to her memory that children now swim out and swipe the coins from the krathongs, but this impression is misleading. For nowadays Thai people have come to see these handouts as small donations to the needy.

Some of the other key integers in the Sukhothai festival’s equation are contests to crown the most comely babe, and to see who can build the prettiest (read: most ostentatious) float, as well as a sound-and-light spectacle, and northern-style buffet dinners. 

Further north, in Chiang Mai, the Loy Krathong festivities (officially known as the Yi Peng Northern Lantern Festival) have an aerial dimension. Made out of sliced bamboo, covered with coloured paper, and containing a terra cotta lamp, these hot-air balloons pockmark the sky at night, rising and rising until they resemble floating stars; since they are also intended to symbolise the illuminating aspects of the Lord Buddha’s teachings, the lanterns are offered to Buddhist monks, too. 

If you’re a true Thai believer, then you can float or fly your sorrows of the past year away. Or if it’s been a supremely miserable year for you, at least you can thank the Water Goddess that you’re not a deluged-by-debts rice farmer, or one of the clean-up crew on the following day.