Ritual

The time had come.  We were seated in front of the Brahmin, a local layperson and former Monk.  (A Brahmin here is not the same as a Brahmin Priest in India.)  Colorful silk sashes had been pinned over our garments and things were about ready to begin.  

My Heart and I were each given a boiled egg and a ball of sticky rice.  We placed these items on the flower tray of the altar piece.  

We were then adorned with our flowered garlands.  My One looked lovely in hers.  I ended up looking like an extra from "A Midsummers Night Dream," but it was all part of the ritual.  

Speaking of goofy, according to Bunloed, my very nice sarong turned out to be a women's pattern, at least in Thailand.  He said that in Burma and Lao men wore sarongs with my pattern, but here in Isaan it was a girl sarong.  Regardless, I brazened it out, smiling at the giggles of the women who were very amused at the cross-dressing Farrang.  Besides, my pattern matched My Love's sarong perfectly.  

The officiant reciting some very long prayers.

The prayers at an end for the moment, we lit the candles at the top of the altar piece.  It was now the time for well-wishers to bind us together with the white strings and small gifts of money.  While balancing the egg and sticky rice in one hand, the white strings were tied around each of our wrists and 100 baht bills pressed into our hands.  Our other hand was held up in a half-Wai, the Thai form of respect.  

There were more long prayers, candles lighted, and more chanted prayers.  We removed the eggs from the flower tray and handed them to the Brahmin.  The eggs were duly peeled, revealing or fortunes.  My One had the stronger egg-fortune, while mine was still good, but not as good.   Later, as an old married couple, we wondered if the good man every said "Wow, rotten luck, that is one bad egg."  We ate the eggs and washed them down with water toasts.

The candle of marriage lighted.

The white strings to bind us together.

And the rings to join us in another tradition.

Thus were we wed.  

The wedding ritual was concluded and it was time for the party to begin.  Actually, the party had already begun in the background, with people wandering over to tie yet another white string on our wrists and wander back over to the mats laden with food and drink.  The eating and drinking went long into the night.  The eating crowd waned and the drinking crowd waxed.  

My new wife, looking lovely, reclining on the mats borrowed from the local temple.

Thus comes to an end our year-and-a-half long-distance courtship.  Of that eighteen months, we have been together about ten.  The rest of the time we suffered the separation for better or for worse, but we have always made it through the next obstacle, be it distance, time, or paperwork.  There will be more paperwork obstacles to overcome, and yet another marriage ceremony in Austria, but we are hopeful that the enforced time apart is at an end.

Our deepest thanks goes out to our hosts Bunloed, Angelina, and Baby Rose.  We also wish to thank all of the wonderful folks from Ban Kham Pia.  Their warmth, hospitality, humor and sense of fun was fantastic.  

Lastly, all of my love and thanks to my beautiful Sabine.  I am indeed a lucky man.

Of course, to you my beloved Freinds and Neighbors, I say "Ciao for Now!!"

Preparing for the Ceremony

Our day had arrived.  Today was the day of our Thai wedding ceremony.  Like any Thai celebration, the two key components were food and drink in ample supply.  Bunloed's relatives began arriving in the afternoon and the chopping, shredding and skewering began.  The seven sisters, untold nieces and nephews, children, dogs, and friends began rolling out mats, hauling drinks and ice, and chopping vast quantities of food.  We were expecting about fifty guests, but those fifty guests could and would invite other guests, so there was no way to know who all would show up.

The women were busy, their conversation punctuated by the rhythm of cleavers and knives against wooden blocks.  Our lovely host Angelina is in the foreground and Baby Rose is hiding behind her, safe from having her photo published until she is old enough to say yes or no.  

Laughing while working is the Thai way.

While the women chop and prepare, men build fires.  Hey, it's what we do.  Time to grill the meat.  Ugh, ugh,  Men Grill Meat.  Yes, yes!!

As the afternoon waned into evening, My Heart and I were told to dress ourselves in our finery.  If you remember our Bangkok shopping day, you will remember that we bought our sarongs, blouse and shirt at the JJ Market.  Now was time to don we now our gay apparel and prepare to be wed.   While we were making ourselves presentable, the Thai folks were bringing in the neccesaries for the ceremony.

Bringing in the beautiful alter piece made of leaves, flowers and candles.

At the gloaming of the day, the older women tended to the arrangements.  The white strings hanging for the alter piece are an important part of the ceremony.  To bind My Heart and I together, well-wishers will tie a piece of the white string around each of our wrists, signifying our bond to each other.

We included a bit of Western ceremony as well, having brought our wedding bands from Austria.  Because of the legalities of our international wedding, we will have a second ceremony in Austria that is legally binding by the laws of that country.  When we return to Austria later this month, the bands will come off until we are once again wed, this time by the magistrate in Vienna.  

Our host, Bunloed, and his eldest sister.  We have been so welcomed here, so blessed by these fine people, so much so that words will not adequately express how wonderful and joyous this time is.

No wedding ceremony is complete without the posed photos.  Here is the happy couple with the cutest and sweetest group of traditional dancers on the planet.

The precursors to the ceremony were all in place.  We were only waiting on the Brahmin to arrive, the officiant for our ceremony,  As night fell, we tried not to sweat through our fine garments.  Folks were arriving in droves.  The wonderful smells of huge pots of soups and stews mixed with the aroma of grilling skewers.  The Brahmin arrived, wearing his formal T-shirt, and it was time to gather for the actual wedding ceremony.  Under the veranda, packed in with the well-wishers, it was the beginning of our steamy ritual.  

The beginnings were complete.  The ceremony itself will be the stuff of the next entry.  Thank you for allowing me a brief pause between attempts at writing down this most joyous of events.  As always, Ciao for Now!

Of Scooters and Waterfalls

The sun is beating down, causing us to retreat to the veranda.  Sitting under the fan and not moving at all is the best plan.  Today is the day of our party, when most of the Bunloed's friends and relations will come to help us celebrate our Union.  Tomorrow morning we will go to the temple and receive the blessings of the monks.  For now, the heat is pressing us into inactivity.  The bamboo soup is simmering on the stove and we are taking turns holding Baby Rose.  She is a little fussy in the heat, but holding her is like holding a tiny squirming furnace.  So we take it in turns.  

Before the festivities begin, I have to try to catch up the blog, for there will be no time once the Karaoke starts.  The Thai folks love them some Karaoke.  

Yesterday we ventured out on the little 125 automatic scooter.  Under-powered for two Farrang, the little beast reluctantly carried us north on Highway 212.  We were heading for a water fall.  Our directions were "About fifteen kilometers and then go right.  There should be a sign."  We found the sign and the gate and the guard.  He pondered us, the scooter, seemed to weigh the difficulty of explaining something to us in Thai, then he shrugged, smiled, and raised the gate.  Up the tiny road we motored, climbing towards the cliffs away from the Mekong.  

The ever-so-busy parking lot at the trailhead to the falls.  We suspect that the place was closed, but the guard was so surprised to see two Farrang, he figured we couldn't get up to too much mischief.

Yes, this walking trail leads to... Something.  And we promise to stay on the trail.

The trail was, thankfully, mostly shaded.  I often refer to the forests in these parts as "jungle," but that is not entirely correct.  Much of the Mekong valley is tropical scrubland, marshes, and upper forest land, depending on the elevation.  Today we were hiking through scrubland forest and marsh.

The blessing of a shaded stream on a blazing hot day.  Just wetting our toes felt delicious, but there was more to come.

We found a shady spot and dropped our shoes and day packs.  From here on up it was barefoot walking across solid rock and cool water pools.  The first of the cascades tumbled down to the creek, wending its way down from the upper rock cliffs.  

At the end of one branching of the creek was the highest waterfall, complete with a slot pool deep enough for swimming.  We did not need a formal invitation.  There are few pleasures in life as refreshing as swimming naked in a cool pool below the splashing of a waterfall.  The rock slot grew narrower as it neared the falls and far deeper.  The further we pushed into the slot, the more the current tried to push us out.  It was a fantastic sensation.  We lounged and floated, floated and lounged, letting the heat of the day wash away down the creek.  A blessing indeed, waterfall worship at its finest.  

Here is a link to the video of the falls:

http://youtu.be/T5q3HDI3nPI

The solid rock bed of the creek was pocked with deeply cut circular holes.  A small swirl of current over a bump or imperfection in the rock begins the process.  Over centuries, the solid rock is carved away to form these potholes.

A large Farrang and a tiny scooter.  Already sweaty again, it was time to head back down to the highway.

Back aboard our little steed, we wound down the little road to the bigger road.  Careening along at a whopping 45 kph, we let the faster traffic move past us.  The general rule in Thailand is that it is a good idea to avoid killing anyone, as opposed to the USA version which it to smash every Moto in sight.  We turned off of 212 onto the small road leading to Ban Khlung and the Mekong.  Village life simmered in the heat.  We stopped for lunch at a small roadside cafe'.

A new taste treat!!  Chicken Phad Thai inside a lovely omelet.  Oh yay, oh yay.  This one was a hit.

We continued on through the the village to a small road along the Mekong.  Without any real knowledge of where it might lead, we gently bounced along the dirt and gravel road, taking in the sights of the rice fields and rubber plantations.  Rubber trees are the biggest cash crop in this region.  Rice is the traditional food crop, but the attraction of a cash crop has lured many rice farmers to convert to rubber tree cultivation.  Because of this, there is a glut of raw latex and the market price has dropped by half over the last five years.  A lesson in the perils of cash crops versus subsistence crops.  

Eventually we rejoined Highway 212 and guessed at which direction we should go, not correctly as it turns out.  After a few kilometers we reversed direction and wandered back to Ban Dan Chik and thence to Ban Kham Pia.  Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.  Washing off the sweat of the day, we whiled away the rest of the afternoon by lazing about and wondering what Bunloed would cook for dinner.

Dinner was Nam Tok, or waterfall, a wonderful waterfall of pork with bitter tree beans accomapnied with sticky rice.  This was one of my best meals in Thailand so far.  An amazing repast.  Bunloed kicks some serious cooking ass.  

Lolling about after dinner, we laughed and joked and entertained Baby Rose.  The creatures of the night came out to see what we were up to.

Mr. Toad hunted the bugs on the ground.

The Tokays, or big geckos, hunted bugs on the walls.

It was a Thai Still Life to finish off the evening.  Smoke rose from the fire, wafting past the lights strung up for the party.  Darkness came on and sleepiness along with it.  Slowly, slowly, the evening drifted to a close.

And that, Friends and Neighbors, was that.  Peace reigned in the valley as a small breeze wafted away some of the heat.  The day was done and so am I.  As always my beloved fellow travelers, it is time to say Ciao for Now! 

The Real Travel Day

Only seven in the morning and already the heat was building.  The air was dead calm as the sun burned across the Mekong directly onto our little bungalow.  The I nside of our tiny cabin was an aircon oasis.  Outside, the town of That Phenom was already steaming.  Breakfast, well, the less said about breakfast the better.  Sometimes the travel gods give, sometimes they withhold. 

Our destination was the small village of Ban Kham Pia.  This little hamlet is three kilometers off of Thailand highway 212, but the bus does not go there.  If one is lucky enough to find the 224, and also lucky enough to have the 224 actually be running that day, the closest one can get is Ban Dan Chik.  From there, well, it's time to walk.

Luck being with us, we were able to catch a mini-van to Nakon Panom, the next stop in the travel chain.  Surprisingly on time, we snagged two good seats near the front and off we went.  The driver was a jovial fellow who was convinced that we should be going to the airport near Nakon Panom.  No Farang in their right mind would want to go further north.  Surely we must want to hop a flight to Bangkok.  When we assured him that, yes, we really did want to go to the bus station, he sighed, smiled, and cracked a joke with the guys riding in the front seat.  Basically, it was something like "Farrang, aye?  Whatta ya gonna do?"

Bus #224, the Nakon Panom -- Nong Khai special.  

We alit form the vomit van to find the lovely 224 bus already parked in its slot at the terminal.  Being savvy traveler's who do their homework, we knew this was our bus.  We checked with the drive, bought our tickets, and tried to find some passable coffee with which to pass the hour we had to wait.  

What we did not know, but would soon find out, is that Bus 224 has an identity crisis.  Bus 224, bless its little metal heart, doesn't want to be a bus.  It is not happy with the lot in life that has been given it.  Bus 224 does not like speed, does not like roads, and, really, does not like motion in any form.  Bus 224 wants to be a glacier, or something like a glacier at the very least.  Something that moves so slowly it requires scientific instruments to measure its progress.  Alas, we did not know this when we boarded the thing, which, for all the world, looked like any other bus.

Waiting for the bus to moveth.  Best to get on early if you want a seat.

You see, these two unsuspecting travelers think that they have done well.  They have made it to Nakon Panom from a small town, found the proper bus, and are now waiting to depart.  Poor, poor deluded souls.

Eventually the reluctant 224 lurched to life.  Very slowly, very carefully, searching every corner for some reason to delay progress, our friend #224 eased out of Nakon Panom.  And eased.  And then eased some more.  A crippled gecko trying to cross the street was in no danger from the 224.  No, it would gladly stop and wait.  Stopping and waiting is the #224's strong suit.  Moving is not.  No, no moving for the 224 if it can help it, thank-you-very-much.  

At the end of the first half-hour, we were finally at the edges of the town.  And let me tell you Friends and Neighbors, it ain't a big town.  Then came some actually highway, long straight roads with almost no traffic.  These stretches of open road made #224 very very nervous.  Creeping along the open highway at a stately 40 kilometers per hour seemed just about right to our metal pal.  And creeping.  And creeping some more.  Then there was the stopping at empty crossroads in the hopes that a passenger would magically appear from the Mekong scrublands.  When the crossroads remained stubbornly empty, the 224 would reluctantly creep on, dreaming of slow-moving Alaskan glaciers and other almost stationary things.

If you ever wondered where your useless first world crap ends up, like that misprinted Whole Paycheck bag, wonder no longer:  it is safe on Bus 224.

Just before she lept from the 224, this little girl said, in Thai, "Even I can outrun this piece of crap..."  Then she was gone.

Finally under our own power, the heat of the afternoon was a welcome relief.  Here is where we came from.

Up that really hot looking road is where we are going.

Free at last, free at last.  Three and a half hours later we were dropped at the crossroad hamlet of Ban Dan Chik.  We had gone a total of 100 kilometers.  That is an average speed of 28.571 kilometers per hour.  Translated for you none-Euros, that is a blazing 17.142 miles per hour on the average.  

As an aside, the method for choosing village names in these parts is pretty simple.  Folks place one cooking pot and two rocks into a galvanized wash basin.  Then they let the wash basin slide down the stairs of their teak house.  The resulting noise is the village name.  Ban Kham Pia.  Ban Khlung.  Ban Dan Samlan.  You get the idea.  

Rice fields.  Sun.  Lots of sun.  Hot.  Very hot.

But back to our story...  The 224 had dropped us off on a sun blasted road at 2:30 in the afternoon.  It was hot.  Really hot.  Regardless of the heat, we were so glad to be moving that we set off on foot.  Really, we had no choice.  There was not a tuk-tuk, Moto-taxi, or samlor in sight.  After about a kilometer we looked pathetic and sweaty.  We were at least pathetic and sweaty looking enough that a Thai couple in a shiny air-conditioned pickup truck took pity on us.  As we offered many Khob-Khun-Khaps (thank yous) they dropped us at Bunloed's bungalows, our new home for the next few days.

Bunloed, Angelina, and Baby Rose were ready for us to arrive.

Our bungalow for the foreseeable,   Home sweet home.

Even the geckos were welcoming, as long as we did not get too close to the brood of eggs in our bathroom.  Each gecko egg is just slightly smaller than a ping pong ball.  The adults will clean those ants up like appetizers.

After showering and a short nap, it was time for an evening stroll while Bunloed turned his attention to dinner.  This is the gas station in the hamlet.  

Ten minutes later, we were back in the countryside.  This is not a very big place.

Dinner, still a little floppy in the sink.

An Isaan feast.  In the foreground is a fiery Som-tam, green papaya salad that is not for the faint-of-palate.  Chilies and fish sauce lend a salt and heat combo that will wake you right up.  And this was full-strength Isaan style.  Steamed fish with chili sauce and sticky rice completed the fare.  All of it was delicious.  Bunloed is a very, very good cook.

Besides our gentle hosts, we had other company for dinner.  The big geckos were out hunting, pouncing on any cicadas that got too close.

Goodnight Sweet Prince.

Retiring to our Bungalow, My One and I fell into a heap under the mosquito netting.  There is nothing quite so romantic as a bed draped in the folds of mosquito netting.  Outside the rattan walls of the bungalow the night serenade was in full swing. Crickets, cicadas, and all manner of singing things trilled, chirped and tremelo'd to outdo one another.  A hard and rewarding day of travel came to an end.  It is not always easy to get from here to there, but my hope is that it always stays interesting enough to keep trying to do so.

With that happy thought in my brain, I bid you all a fond Ciao for Now!

Lazy Hot Mekong Day

Sometimes you just have to let the heat have its way.

That Phenom was baking in the heat.  Even the breeze of the Mekong seemed unable to offer any relief.  And so it was a lazy day, a day to let the heat have its way.  We did nothing worthy of lengthy remarks or ponderous prose, but that has never stopped me in the past.

We managed to go shopping for a special treat, Kalamae, a Thai sweet.  A sweet little jelly wrapped in a banana leaf, Kalamae is rice flour, palm sugar and watermelon seed.  The stuff is steamed in the banana leaf.  The dark blue coloured comes from a natural dye derived from butterfly pea flowers.  

The beautiful little Kalamae nestled in their banana leaf wrappers.

We sat along the Mekong, trying to stay in the shade and the breeze.  Eventually hunger overcame heat and we sought out lunch.  Ironically, we ended up in a Thai cafe' that caters to Vietnamese pilgrims.  The Aircon was frigid and in this case, wonderful.  We went crazy on fantastic food and a great change of pace.  

Spring rolls with greens and a sort of Vietnamese pork sausage pizza or quesadilla on a rice flour crust.

Crepes!!  My favorite.  And not one, but two!!  

The aftermath.  Not a pretty sight, but pretty damn satisfying.  

The blessed cool of the evening began as the sun set behind the Chedi.  Slowly, slowly, the concrete began to cool.  We walked around the town and encountered the hordes of white-clad pilgrims on their way to the Chedi.  The Chedi itself was a beehive of activity as the people waited in lines for blessings, waited for food or water, or stood in line to circle the Chedi.  We left the devout to their labor and wandered back towards the night market.  

Tackling the heat with a giant coconut-ice and fruit thing.  It's a dinner, it's a dessert!

The night scene along the Mekong Promenade, That Phenom, Thailand.

The concrete of the promenade was still warm hours after the sun went down.  Like many of our Thai brothers and sisters, we hung out of the waterfront with cold drinks, watching the river run and letting the cool breeze waft over us.  Now and then the breeze would stiffen, a sign that a monsoon cloud was passing nearby, but there was no rain.  The rainy season is drawing to a close.  The clouds will still chase Farrang around, but less and less over the next two weeks.  Then the blessed cool season will begin, but by that time we will be winging away from the Land of Smiles.  November will bring the start of the tourist season, which builds to a flood from mid-December to February.  

It was a day of heat and food, napping and eating.  Tomorrow will be a long travel day to a very small village.  For now, well, it is time to retire to the bungalow for a well deserved sleep.  As always Friends and Neighbors, travel often, travel well, and Ciao for Now!