The Unbearable Hospitality of Thailand, a festival not to be missed, and a birthday party!

Soren...









...is a tour guide in Bangkok who just so happened to study at a university in Thailand with a mutual friend of myself and Jon. Knowing that we were hopelessly inept wanderer's and would need some sort of direction, said friend (thanks Sharif) put us in touch with Soren, who invited us to come to his village with him to join a huge celebration that is held every year in honor of an extremely old temple known as Phanom Rung. This temple complex is considered one of the oldest and best preserved of the Khmer temples in Thailand and they are justifiably proud of it. It was originally built as a Hindu monument, which now summarizes absolutely everything that I gathered of the history of the place.

The festival takes place all in one day and is somewhat comparable to the ceremony every year in which they rededicate the Statue of Liberty...if there was such a thing, and if New York was filled with Thai people...which, although I've been gone for a while, I'm pretty sure isn't the case.
Nevertheless, we were off to Burriram!

Part of what made this trip particularly fun was that Soren seems to know just about everyone in Thailand. When asked to explain this phenomenon, Soren simply said "I know at University." If that is the case, then Thailand has the highest proportion of University graduates to citizens of any place on Earth, because we couldn't walk for more than 10 seconds down any street without having to stop and talk to someone he knew. Commensurate with his affable nature, Soren also has a number of "closer friends" who partook of this trip with us. It was nice, and fairly unique (to me) be traveling with tourists who were themselves natives of the country I was in. Good fun.


3 of our fellow travelers. Lovely ladies each.






Thus we found ourselves on a "local bus," which despite my cringing when hearing such terminology (remembering what that moniker denoted in India), ended up being quite nice. Ever the tour guide, we arrived in Burriram at 4AM and were almost immediately met by a man driving a pick up truck which Soren had arranged. Jon and I were unsure as the schedule for the day, all that we knew was that Soren didn't seem to have much in the way of sleeping in mind. Never to fear, we arrived at his mother's house at about 5 and spent 3 blissful hours sleeping in his sisters old room.

(L to R) Jon, Me and Soren...the wheels on the bus go round and round...








Jon and Oat (pronounced "Oh-aht") enjoyin' the ride







Since I have been rambling on and on about Thai hospitality without really describing it (an oversight which my fiction writing teachers are surely growling about even as I type) allow me, if I can, to describe some of the ways in which Soren and his family made us feel at home:

-When we first met Soren, he introduced himself, then vanished for 5 minutes, returning with plastic bags filled with ice, a straw and fresh watermelon juice that he had just bought for us

-While showing us his apartment, we noticed that there was a large, double bed in the middle of the room (the apartment being a slightly-larger-than-normal efficiency for two people), along with two small mattresses on the floor. When I asked if he and his roommate traded off in the bed, he looked at me strangely and said "no no, we sleep on floor." When quetsioned further, he explained that they had the bed for guests and that they never slept in it. I'll repeat; he and his roommate owned a bed which they reserved exclusively for guests while they slept on thin mattresses on the floor. I was flabbergasted.

-After showing us around his apartment, he insisted that we go swimming in the pool in his building. Not being suitably attired, Soren loaned me a pair of swimming trunks. If you have never seen a six foot two inch man go swimming in shorts bought for a five foot four inch man, then you have missed out on seeing quite a lot of hairy legs and wedgie tugging. Of course, I pulled it off with style. Oh, and they were neon green and pink.

-Soren took us to dinner at a place that he said made him feel like he was at home. Of course, this meant that it was in a back alley, alongside a canal, we were the only white people within 3 square miles and ordering for ourselves was out of the question. Soren ordered, we ate, then the sneaky guy paid for it over our vociferous objections.

-When arriving at his mothers house, at 5AM, she had food ready for us, but we were told that we could sleep first. After doing so in a bed that she had prepared, she served us the food which no-one had touched and was still somehow warm.

Soren's home, quite comfortable








Soren's Aunt (middle, short) seemed to think that Jon and I were visiting exclusively for her flirting pleasure. I'm pretty sure that she pinched my butt about 2 million times.





The above are but a small sampling of the multitudinous kindnesses, small and grand, which were extended to us during our time with Soren.

We were taken to the silk factory in Burriram, which has consistently won the Kings award for finest silk in Thailand






After devouring a breakfast of sticky rice, chicken with garlic and mushrooms and some kind of vegetables, we were back in the bed of the pickup truck. Of course, Soren had taken the mattresses from his own room at his Mom's house and had laid them, with sheets and pillows, in the bed of the pick-up so that the 5 of us could ride back there more comfortably.

Living where we do (Western countries) there tends to be an obsession with road safety that is compensated by poorer driving. Riding around in the back of a pick-up truck at home is (I believe) a ticketable offense, or at the very least frowned upon. Anywhere else in the world, it is probably the most used form of transport. And I have this to say about it; it is wonderful. I have now ridden in the beds of pick up trucks through deserts, across mountains and along beaches and each time I find myself wondering why I don't do so more often. The wind whips past you, the scenery seems more vivid and the road beneath you feels more immediate. You are traveling the road, not simply riding on it, and though the difference may be small, it can make a world of difference.

"...movin' right along, footloose and faaaaaaancy free, I'm ready for the good times are they ready for me?'
-Fozzie Bear





So we spent 5 glorious, mostly comfortable hours plummeting through the Eastern edge of Thailand towards the temple.

Then we arrived











We're here! (professor Om thinks that it's raining)






And met some locals



(find pics w/me and jon) Her father was very happy to have us photographed with, who we later learned, was the "queen" of the festival. Sort of like Homecoming queen but in a sexually repressive society.














There were only a very few other farang (white folks) at this festival so it was quite a novelty to have a picture taken with us. As we thought it was quite a novelty to have our photos taken with girls in gold gowns and men with swords, the arrangements all took care of themselves.

One of Soren's friends who was with us is a professor of Tourism at a University in Burriram. We affectionately know her as "Professor Om." Prof Om had taken the liberty of securing us tickets for the (what we later learned) was a gala to be had that night, plus dinner. But first. The Parade!

Parade route
























































This was one very, very long parade. Since it started about an hour late, we found ourselves sweltering in the sun for quite a while, affording us at least an opportunity to take in what was going on around us. First, and most annoyingly, there was a kind of "who's on first" routine going on over a loudspeaker whereby one guy would talk for a while into the mic, and he would be answered by the other guy with "klap" (yeah) every 5 of so words. This went on for roughly 45 minutes. And drove us nuts. Along the pathway, there was saffron bunting strung up (saffron being a sacred color, color that monks wear etc.) and it was interesting watching people step over this banner, as they made very certain not to touch it with their feet. There was a set up as well under which those with the "good seats" could sit comfortably and sweat in the shade.


Oat and me, sweating.






As the parade passed us by, the ranks of heavily sweating men, lifting enormous plaster statues of bulls, roosters, serpents and horses seemed to make our situation comparably tolerable. The fact that they then had to struggle up five steep, narrow flights of ancient stone stairs, the edges of each step inevitably worn smooth by the passage of thousands of feet humbled me as I sipped my water and occasionally tugged on my shirt to let some air pass through. The blaring music, while not entirely pleasing, added a festive air to the already bright colors and smiling people. The children running around seemed to be having the best time, kids not worrying about things like sweating or getting dirty. I noticed that all of the men that were responsible for the heavy lifting had what looked like thick black tattoos, strange mysterious symbols and heavy looking notation, written all over them. Prof Om explained that it was written with a black marker (awww...) and that the symbols were to half to keep evil things away, and half to bring good luck. It looked to me like everyone had gotten drunk and then written on each other, but what do I know? (the answer to that question is 'absolutely nothing').

The parade ended, we followed the procession up the stairs and looked around the temple.



Doesn't this look like a promotion for a cross-cultural sit-com set in a mystic Thai temple? Huh? Anyone out there want to shoot this pilot?? (chirp...chirp)










The temple guards are not to be trifled with








The lovely ladies





After doing so, we were tired. This was of no consequence to Soren, who now insisted that we rush over to another temple on the other side of "town" before rushing back to eat dinner. Protestations visibly ignored, we left, saw the temple, decided that it was worthwhile after all, then returned for dinner.


The other temple. Bludarg






Dinner was, in a word, wonderful. A stage off to one side contained a multitude of dancers, singers and other forms of entertainment. This stage overlooked an area that must have been at least 4-5 acres, all covered with tatami mats, upon which roughly a thousand people, all sat around large wicker tables. Neatly uniformed servers bustled about and laid out a spread of food that was able to easily feed the dozen of us that were present, with enough sticky rice left over to act as dessert (quick fun note: the sticky rice came wrapped in banana leaves, which I thought you could eat, much to everyone's amusement).

Dinner!







After dinner was The Show! (my italics and emphasis). Up until this point, Jon and I had been thoroughly impressed with the festival, albeit a bit dissapointed at how reserved much of it was. For all of the enthusiasm which people obviously harbored, not much of it was shown beyond polite clapping and broad smiles. So it was with some reservations that we climbed the steps to the temple and took our seats to watch...well we really weren't sure what. Perhaps if Soren had told us "...oh don't worry, the show is just a two hour, Broadway quality production using the 3000 year old temple, a platoon of Thai soldiers, sword fights, fire spinning, a full-on epic battle scene with real weapons, professional music, lighting and acting recounting the entire history of the Earth from the macro (creation of earth by Buddha) to the micro (rebuilding of that particular temple) capped off by an extraordinary fireworks display...I think that you'll like it," we would have been more excited going in. However, if he had previewed the evening in that manner, it would have lost the awesome ability to completely and irrevocably alter what I would even consider possible of a stage production in a small village. Jon and I spent much of the show smacking each other in disbelief at each new wondrement that unfolded. Of particular coolness was was the highlighted sword fight, in which two very talented martial artists fought each other with metal swords which clanged and sparked dangerously and went on for a full 5 minutes, complete with spinning kicks, flips and "can you believe that he dodged that?!"-type blows.


Phanom Rung at night









The show ended with the lighting of hundreds of candles, which were placed into paper cylinders and released into the air, floating easily away high into an indigo night. You could see the points of light for miles before they winked out over a shadowed horizon, after which we just turned our heads back to see more lifting off the ground and making the same journey, the wind guiding the light to where it was perhaps more needed.

Full cast







We got back in the pick-up, and drove out into the night, stopping off to drop one of Soren's friends at a bus station so that he could catch a ride back to Bangkok. I was agog at this decision to leave, as we had arrived on a 10 hour bus that morning at 4AM, and here he was making the return journey beginning at 11PM, all so that he could make it to work the next day. I hope that it all worked out for him.

We took our leave of Soren's home the next day and high tailed it back to Bangkok. As we were figuring out our plans for the evening Soren shyly mentioned, "we have party tonight."

"Why Soren?" Jon asked.

"My birthday! You come?"

Soren hadn't mentioned that it was his birthday before because he didn't want us to feel like we had to go to his party. Shaking my head at his consideration, I RSVP'ed on the spot. Thus we spent our last day with Soren and his (even more) friends, at the same restaurant as before. Contriving to finally get to pay for something, Jon and I talked about how to get the bill before Soren did...to no avail.

"Good night everyone!" Soren called out as people got up to leave.

"Wait, Jon and I want to get the bill."

"Already done. I paid. You no worry!"

Happy Birthday Soren!

There was nothing we could do except to accept his offer to stay in his enormous, comfortable guest bed (while he slept on the floor) and drink the tea that he made us, and shower using his towels, and eat the toast and jam that he provided us with in the morning. We just didn't have it in us to refuse anymore.

Soren, thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you.

Next: Another double posting, recounting the most fun 3 days in a row I've ever had, and a brief commentary on the kindness of people to travelers, strangers and friends alike.