23rd of April 2011 0
Thia’s house and behind it is a particularly busy. A dozen women are cooking. Banana leaves filled with rice. Huge pots of meat are on the fire. The men interfere with the interior of the house. Now I understand that monks arrive tonight.
At about three o’clock I decide that I should treat myself and I pour a glass of Mekong. Later I ask Yot, a cousin of Thia for busy men to pour a glass. With, the son comes home and greets me with a neat wai. Best I can to find him, especially since I was a computer game with me. Loth, his wife always asks what I want to eat.
The house is a tight rope with homemade flags. Inside lie along a wall nine deluxe doormats, because there are nine monks. Nine is a lucky number because of the fact that we now have Rama IX. Behind each is a mat and pillow for each monk is doing a spit bucket, one liter of water, a Fanta and a packet of cigarettes, as monks have only a stimulant, namely smoking. In one corner is the rickety altar with several Buddha statues and religious trinkets.
arrive nine monks from various temples because the temple BanLai has not so much. Apparently there is more than the first man of BanLai, because this monk is the closest to the altar and immediately take the reins, ie, he ties a rope around the two Buddha statues and roll the ball down to the monk next to him, the number one BanLai. This gives it up to the next, and so on until the last, a cute kindermonnikje (my spell checker wants to change this to Wren, but I refuse). The boss has a voice that reminds me of Reverend Zelle. This man preached in a church in Rockanje and summer outdoor chairs were put down for the swimmers, without sound did not miss a word. A particular detail of this preacher, that he was a cousin of Margaretha Zelle in Leeuwarden, who became famous by her stage name Mata Hari.
BanLai. The boss puts before the ceremony begins, out of pocket a cigar. So I offer our own cigar a monk, who gladly accepts. Moments later, the song begins. Loud and in a penal rate. It takes about twenty minutes. Then there is water in bowls made and prayed again. The house is blessed. After finishing work, most monks disappear quickly. Each with a stuffed envelope. Our own monk will have a talk. Then all participants eat and drink and music will be established. Party for family and friends. Monks do not eat after morning eleven hours.
Thursday morning I get up at seven hours and notice to my horror that the nine monks already present. While I shower, start the song again. As on previous occasions, I sense a mostly elderly audience. After fifteen minutes praying, the monks provided a reasonably good meal. Monk Zelle not eat it. He departs with his monk driver. Our own monk is thus a number. All monks have their pot with them, which they usually early morning pick rice. Now the villagers, each with its own basket of rice, these pans are filled. The head monk blesses all those in attendance to sprinkle holy water. The monks leave and I give our monk, outside the protocol, with a box of cigars. Neat he says, thank you.
If the monks are gone, the people start eating and drinking whiskey white. After dinner the women who have everything prepared. The music is flat out. Terrible. No pure tone. Because everyone wants to come above the music, screaming is necessary. Everybody does that, so luckily the music is heard in the background. Strange is that older women have the most fun. They clap their hands and dancing together. They especially want to be photographed, but I like them to. Ten hours to run the party, but the drunk people stay. I will start my own small motor, we have samples, to ChiengKam, and buying some comic books for With. When I return I find some spluttering viswijven drank, which hardly inspire me. I retreat to my room, I finally got a room in this house, but there is a drunk guy harassing me. I think he says that he has a tumor on his head and he needs money for the hospital. To charity I do not, so I put him out of the room. I decide it is wise that I go to a swimming pool, six kilometers from here.
Friday we make a wonderful trip. Thia with wife and child, Pot ditto, Yot only because his wife gave birth to this month and of course uncle. I must also mention here that, when I stand, Loth already hot water for my coffee is ready. Great, this is right. The coffee is followed by a delicious rice soup. We go first to the north, towards Chiangrai, but after twenty kilometers right towards Laos. Just before a border crossing, where you also can not go, the road bends to the left. It’s a rocky road through the mountains. An indescribably beautiful area.
regularly seen along the roadside representatives of a mountain tribe, the Yao. Little people, mostly dressed in black. They usually wear a kind of rushes, which sweeps are made of. I am surprised that this path even number, the 1093. Eventually, he ChiengKong true, but so far we do not. Our destination is a mountain which you have a view of Laos and the Mekong River. At the foot of this mountain we eat in a Yao village folks. I am struck by a billboard from Philips. We are everywhere.
After the meal and a bottle of Mekong, we begin the climb. After only a few meters, I look up again and realize that I never take his life. I firmly do I keep waiting in the restaurant. Then suddenly remembers Yot, a line path for a car. Each will start, and Thia, Yot and I go by car. We find a steep and narrow path and will eventually go on a plateau, where the car stops. We see the others on the ridge approaching the summit. The uncle (the father of so Yot) sixty-two years, first as above. It can be even more than my whiskey drink. We still have a relatively short distance and climb thanks to the fact that Yot Thia and I take turns pushing, I get it. Breathless I come over. The view is magnificent. Right below us is Laos. Unattainable unless you jump.
In Laos, the Mekong meanders its way. This is the only area where the Mekong is not the limit. It is so beautiful that I’m aware that this is one of the reasons is that I want to live in Thailand. We are all going back to the car and eat some more in another village. ChiengKam when we come back, should be bought to eat again. I say that I’m not hungry and not paying. Thia I get but not to his mind that I like the most generous to him, his wife and son, but not every day that I eat to get twelve families. At home we drink Mekong. Uncle happily drink it.Source
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