Water Worlds

Why H2O Makes us Happy

Bangkok is an exceptionally kinetic city. Everyone and everything is in constant motion, with the notable exception of traffic. That is true, too, of its main river, the Chao Phraya, one of the busiest in the world, but with one key difference: speed. Life along the estuary unfurls at a slower, more human, pace and the traffic, waterborne in this case, does move.

I’ve spent the past week exploring this water world, relishing its torpid rhythms and reflecting on our relationship to this most vital of elements. Why do we crave proximity to water, be it ocean or lake or river?

Thailand offers some clues. Thais are people of the water. Historically, three of the four Thai capitals have been built along the banks of the Chao Phraya. Thai children are taught to sing the names of the country’s most prominent rivers. Thai holidays, like Songkran, celebrate water, as anyone who has been doused during the raucous festivities can attest. It is known as the world’s largest water fight for good reason.

The Thai expression for generosity, kwaam mee náam jai, literally means to “have a water-heart.” A water-heart is one that creates abundance. A water-heart overflows with kindness and a willingness to give without expecting anything in return. A water-heart, like water itself, sustains life.

Bangkok, once known as the Venice of the East, is less watery today. Many of the klongs, or canals, have been paved over in the name of progress. Look carefully, though, and you can see, and feel, a way of life measured not by the clock but by the ebb and flow of the currents.

I made a conscious effort to abandon myself to Bangkok’s watery ways. I chose a hotel on the Chao Phraya, a sublime, understated place called Chakrabongse Villas. Every morning and evening, I’d plant myself on the dock, and watch. I felt like I was in a Paris cafe, except instead of people watching I was boat watching. As in Paris, the watching is excellent: zippy long-tail boats, lumbering barges (carried by colorful tugboats), work-a-day ferries, neon-lit party boats blasting all your favorite hits—from 1984.

I found this boat watching extremely relaxing. I’m sure I would not have had the same reaction watching cars and trucks passing on a nearby highway. It’s not just me. One study, from 2010, found that people consistently rate photographs of scenes, natural or manmade, more beautiful and restorative if they contain a water element.

This explains a lot. It explains why the cruise industry exists. It explains waterfront dining. It explains why we’re willing to pay a premium for waterfront property. (I once saw an ad for a beach house in Oregon that featured a “former water view.” Presumably, it retained traces of that water magic.) But it does not explain why we are so enamored of water.

Theories abound. Water represents an echo from our ancient past, evolutionary psychologists posit. When humans first evolved in East Africa, the ideal landscape was rolling savannahs dotted with fresh-water lakes. Others point to the powerful emotion of awe that water evokes. Awe is a response to vastness. It gives us much-needed perspective. Bodies of water make us feel small, and that is actually a good thing.

I have my own theory. I call it the Kardashian Theory. Humans are 60-percent water, so when we gaze into a river or a lake we are, in a way, looking at ourselves, a la Kim and Kourtney, and we enjoy that.

I am joking (I think) but none of these explanations really matter. The Thais have an expression, ya khit mak—literally, “don’t overthink it.” Sound advice the next time you find yourself on a beach or at a lake house or just floating in the neighborhood pool with nowhere to be and nothing to do.