Floating Wishes and Flying Hopes

This has been the one festival I have always wanted to experience in Thailand. Images of this magical night are plastered on covers of travel books and tourist posters far and wide - the Lonely Planet I currently have sitting on my shelf is one such item. Make a vague comment about a Thai festival to any traveler and this is the one they think you are talking about. Therefore, I was stunned this week at the ambivalence my students showed about the holiday. I ask a question every week to start class, to take roll and get them meagerly engaged. My question this week was, "What is your family tradition for this day or what is something you do?"

Sleep.

Play computer games.

Go shopping.

Do nothing. 

Stay at home. 

I was confused. Granted a few mentioned the fear of covid, but their willingness to sprawl over each other in between classes seems to negate that fear a bit. Though the idea that "the other people" are carrying the germs is quite prevalent in these parts. Nonetheless, my discouragement from student malaise was quickly banished thanks to a new Thai teacher in the office, who is a delightful dose of energy and excitement. I mentioned my excitement of the holiday and he joined in with his boisterous nature - helping map out options for locations and traditions to pay attention to that night. In the end, our night of frivolity actually included meeting him and his friend so we could toss firecrackers and send our wishes down the river. 

As the sun set, Zach and I started our festival experience at the bridge near our school. Vendors were already set, a few firecrackers were whizzing and banging, and the bobbing of lit candles could be seen on the river. 

A handful of krathong making stations were set behind the vendors. The small vessels bound for the river are traditionally made with a slab of banana tree, intricately woven or shaped banana leaves, a variety of flowers or flower petals, a few sticks of incense, and one candle. The artistry of their creation is stunning - I wanted to buy all of them, which made the old ladies chuckle at my excitement. Yet, for the price of 20baht (less than 1USD) per krathong, such a hording quest seemed very attainable. 

I refrained and we only purchased three over the evening, but I spent a lot of time oohing and aahing over other people's choices or creations. One dear old lady held a krathong of origami-style paper folding and she graciously allowed me to take a photo (her daughter felt I needed to photograph hers as well, so it was a very giggly photo shoot.) Later on, a small girl was suspicious of my attention to her ice cream cone handiwork. 

Our time beneath the Vhiangburapha Road bridge was quaint. It was quiet. After lighting our first krathong and sending our wish along with the others down the river, we moved further up river to what would be the festival hot spot. 

A crowd met our arrival at the Phaya Mangrai Bridge. Trucks with lowered tailgates peddled firepower of all sizes and strength. The krathong vendors were mixed among the food-on-a-stick food stalls. It was not uncommon to see a folded table in half-in-half mode; one half flowery rafts, the other half a som tam shop. The firecracker haze wafted through it all. The rustle of expanding floating lanterns could faintly be heard. It was a exhilerating meshing of festival sights and sounds. 

After purchasing a floating lantern of our own, we quickly ascended to the height of the bridge walkway. It was the perfect perch - the river flowed beneath us, speckled by the thousands of lit candles; the full moon before us as a glorious spectator to it all; the floating lanterns passed by us on their way into the heavens; the careening fireworks reminding us that we may not survive the night with all our appendages or senses. 

It is remarkable. No matter where one is in the world, idiots and fire always go hand-in-hand. Our favorite moment of stupidity to witness was the TikToker who held the cell phone in the left hand, firecracker in the right, then proceeded to shoot it straight above her. It seems the law of gravity lesson was lost on her and we spent a few minutes watching her figure out how to salvage an eye after it comes in contact with a flaming mass of TNT. 

I also will not be surprised when the news breaks that the Phaya Mangrai Bridge has a compromised infrastructure due to the number of fireworks sent directly into its undercarriage. Though, I do wonder if Thai architects allow for wind vibrations and rogue fireworks in their engineering calculations. 

Nonetheless, our people watching post was perfect. For at least an hour and half, we savored the sights, took a lot of photos (382 to be precise, 120 in quick succession to get the rise of floating lanterns), and reveled in our good fortune to experience such a magical evening. 

Our co-worker, JJ and his friend, Knot, did find us. We lit our lantern together then dropped down to the river for another round of floating a krathong. 

 

With wishes floating away and our hopes flying high, we joined the idiots with fire power of our own. Zach re-enacted the battle of Hogwarts protection phase, turning each spark pfft into a moment of spell binding. We threw razzle dazzlers over the edge of the bridge, in a quest to outdo each other in height and arc. 

We wrote silly sayings with sparklers. We thew pop rocks. We ducked at a few rogue fireworks that did not start their life in our celebratory circle. Whoops, hollers, laughs, squeals of delight, and abounding silliness completed our evening. At 10pm, we realized that four hours of frivolity were absolutely satisfactory (plus, we are always wary of when Grab drivers stop working.) We said farewell to our partners-in-crime and walked to 7-11; because when in Thailand, one must finish the night as most Thais do (a pit stop for that one, late-night bag o'chips while wearing snoopy pajamas.) Our Loy Krathong experience did not disapppoint. As I slurped my two juice boxes and Zach chugged a Coke on the front steps of 7-11, we were so grateful to have such a great experience in checking off another bucket list item.

Guest Post: The Bird

A couple days ago, we received a message with the following story. Addysen is a burgeoning wordsmith - a delightfully descriptive one. I asked her if I could share it, for even though I was involved in the moment, I was captivated. Alas, I cannot find the picture she mentions (probably on my computer in China *sigh*), so I include one of my absolute favorite snapshots of my journalist skipper in one of our happiest places to be in the world.

The Bird

by Addysen To

(posted as received)

 

The lap lap lap of the water on the stern of the little canoe. When we launched off from the shore the muddy footprints showing our passage. The brilliant blue sky beaming down on our bear skin. We happily babbled, spraying water on each other. Then we skidded to a stop. I was in the back of the canoe. I didn't know what happened.

As we stopped so suddenly that I jerked in the small boat. I was surprised and patted Gurdy with my wet hands. The canoe was light banana yellow. Mei Mei snapped a photo.

Then I saw it a blue heron dove in, landing on a rough wood log, it's long flexible wings folding to its silk side. 

Another click came from in the front of me, a gasp Mei Mei was awed my brother was speechless. We floated there for a long long time.

Finely, the heron flew away, we started to paddle once more. As we turned another twist slowly we heard a faint call and it got louder as we stranded our heads to see what it was. The heron followed us, the heron flew to the bank's landing, and the call slowly died away. It sat there staring at us head to one side.

With another call it flew away its wings gliding close to the water, it turned the bend and was lost to sight. We felt so lucky and special to see the beautiful bird. 

November is Busy

My camera, our legs, and our Zoom account have been very busy over the past week. My goal of posting every day was thwarted due to my writing time being infringed upon by a lot of outings, a lot of exploring, holiday celebrations, late night investigations of rice harvesting, wonderfully long chats with friends around the world, and a (shit show of a) job. Yet, never fear, I think I have weeded through the 862 pictures taken in the last week and I have outlined the posts to come. I am back on track...for now.

Best Scarecrow in the World Award

I interrupt travel snippets to award the Best Scarecrow in the World award. This is not an accolade often bestowed....actually, I think this may be the first time. Zach and I have given the World's Worst Airport award at least two times, Best Scone award a handful of times, but today...oh today, the bestest scarecrow of them all was sighted. 

I have been very mindful in carrying my camera these days for rice harvesting is upon us. Little by little, the waving seas of grain are being slashed. Unlike China, around here mini-combines are used, so the result is ragged, skewed half stalks twisted in every angle. It is such a harsh contrast to what was, but while I do not wish the backbreaking method of China, the Chinese do seem to use the entire plant and leave the field in good shape. However, I digress and tease of the rice field saga post to come. 

This post is to honor such a delightful find and the subsequent photo story. The scarecrow exists because a local farmer is drying rice on a blue tarp on his land. On the way home from school, this gem of creative brilliance was sighted. Therefore, upon reaching home, we quickly changed clothes and grabbed the bikes. After a pit stop at our favorite rice field for current documentation and a market run, we returned to the scarecrow. 

But the scarecrow, was gone. 

It seemed in the twenty minutes between a drive-by glimpse and our arrival, his watch duty was over.

However, upon looking around the propery, we saw him propped face-first against a barn door.  It was a forlorn sight, but I was pulling out my camera to at least capture a side shot. However, the very hyper, very vicious-acting guard dog came barrelling towards the fence once our arrival caught his attention. The farmer soon followed, saw my camera, then started laughing. He pointed at the scarecrow and I nodded my head. He sauntered over to the barn, picked up the scarecrow, and returned him to his watchful perch - making sure that everything was just so for such a photo op moment. By this time, the dog had realized we were not terrified of his bravado and switched to love tactics with Zach. 

Once the scarecrow was in a satisfactory state, the owner stepped back with a satisfied nod of the head, called the dog, smiled and waved at us, then meandered back to the house. 

I took a couple of photos, laughing the entire time at how fun life - and people - can be. Does a dangling baby doll purse accessory incite fear? Can a scarecrow truly wield a water gun without going moldy? Do the multi-colored eyes shoot laser beams? This was a moment I was reminded how lucky I am to have such beautiful encounters; and it was a lucky day for this ragtag creation who became the best scarecrow in the world. 

Raging Riverwater

I have been completely spoiled since moving to Thailand. So. Spoiled. Other than the initial two weeks in country, I have been in the ocean or in a swimming pool every day...ok, maybe I have missed five or six days. Nonetheless, I have become so accustomed to being ensconced within my favorite element on a daily basis that I forgot my only exposure to water during travel would be the deluges of rain that I had no idea were to come. After two days in Tak, I was starting to feel a bit parched from the lack of a daily dip...until Bon and her parents took us to Lansang National Park.

It was a drizzly day; another one in continuation of days that has extended a typical rainy season far past its normality. Floods in Thailand have been devastating this year. While we all knew that rain has been extravagant, we were caught off guard upon arriving in the park to find a very raging river and flooded portions. While Zach and I had nothing to compare it to since it was our first visit, Bon and her parents were quite stunned to see such muddy, roiling water.

It was the raw power of nature.

We were unable to get a full view of the waterfall because the path was flooded, but the sliver we were able to see was majestic. A raging river means a extreme waterfall - the sound was thundering.

Even though swimming or wading was not an option (though I did dip in some toes), just the sound was such a soothing balm. Bon and I agreed that just hearing the water calmed and centered us. Water is definitely my element. 

While basking in such natural beauty, we also had a good chuckle at the local signs - especially this one. I am unsure how one normally handles the fish int his park, but on this day, I think the fish were on the fish equivalent of a human rollercoaster. Those rapids and swirls were brutal.  

Since we are having an immersive experience of living versus travel jaunting, we are realizing that Thailand has a rather extensive national parks system. I confess that we have not paid attention to them during past travels, other than seeing them on maps. Two dominant factors for this laissez-faire attitude have been time and lack of personal transportation/meager public transportation to these areas. However, after some time in Lansang National Park, we are inspired to find ways into these guarded gems of Thailand. 

A Very Chatty Monk

The 45 minutes we spent at Wat Chiang Thong were not walking the grounds nor was it being in awe of a memorable facade. Granted, this perched-on-a-hill wat gave a nice overlook of Tak in the ten minutes we wandered the grounds, but the endearing feature of this wat was the spry, old monk who spied the foreigners, opened the main wat, then proceeded to pull up a chair to chat as we sunk to the floor to contemplate the interior. 

We cannot speak Thai.

He cannot speak English. 

Chinese was not a mutual option, either.

Yet, that did not seem to hamper the spirit of communication for we sat at the feet of a monk for 35 minutes as he chatted. A lot. We used a dash of Google translate, a few pictures, and a full repertoire of body language, which resulted in us learning he had four screws in his back, collecting alms during these covid crazy days means some very lean daily rations, do not go 'that direction' because of a covid cluster, he was a local, and he had been a monk for 60ish (I think) years (with the anniversary of his ordination coming soon and we should come experience the recognition ceremony.)

Not once was he frustrated or demeaning of our lack of Thai; he truly rambled on as though we were fluent. I absolutely loved his language abandon. Plus, with his immersive experience, I did add a couple of Thai vocabulary to my list. 

He insisted we snap a picture of the wat interior before we left - but this was the only one I took because I was just so content with a unique moment with a very kind man who needed a good afternoon chat. 

Chinese Homage

The soaring dragons seem to be a beacon for our Chinese-honed senses. Those beautiful creatures of lore draw us in with promise of vibrant outer colors, musty interiors, and languid swirling incense tendrils. For two people who continue to fiercely miss the adopted motherland, especially the food, Chinese temples are a momentary balm for still aching hearts. 

This temple in Tak appeared to have recently been renovated - or even constructed. The colors were extremely vibrant and there was a newness to be felt. Oh, the reds were so vibrant; so much so, that I felt luck was pulsating off the doors. However, as with every other temple we have visted, the caretaker did not speak Chinese. This continues to be a fascinating aspect of Chinese temples in Thailand.

On this particular day, we not only got a temple but also some stashed Chinese along the 'ancient' street of Tak. A very picturesque span of streets, which quickly reminded us of Chikan in Zhanjiang. To our surprise, Chinese flair was stashed in the nooks and crannies, which included a very prominent mei cheng sign residing in front of a blue house. 

The characters literally translate into beautiful success, which made us wonder if this was the international business district once upon a time.

Days later, after descending at least 300 stairs from a hilltop wat in Nan, we stumbled across a Chinese shrine. Such a discovery was an immediate awe moment which quickly became twinged with sadness for darkness was imminent and the only light was two lit candles. This meager illumination was enough to make me sigh in contentment and be immediately transported to the dim, dusty village temples scattered throughout the rural lands of China. 

This shrine was not for show. It was not seeking grandeur. It had the feel of great adoration and affection. Though a bit rumpled and ruffled in appearance, it felt welcoming to all who wanted to rest or reflect.     

While we continue to explore life and living in Thailand, these fleeting moments we get to touch a bit of China are precious. They remind us that separation does not sever the deep connections one has to a place. 

Blend of Worlds

It was the first time to stroll onto temple grounds and be hit with a strong deja vu feeling of exploring southern US plantation homes. The scene before us was baffling; the colors were strange, the typical hodge-podge, knick-knack grounds were no where to be seen, and the glitz of a typical wat was missing. Wat Nam Hak in Tak appeared to be more western-style church than eastern-style temple; with grounds neatly trimmed and well maintained, overseen by massive sprawling banyans and palms. 

 The informational sign confirmed our bewildered eyes - it was built in European style. No explanation as to the why or influence of architecture, just the simple fact that those who look and see European style are not hallucinating. 

Midway through our exploring, we (and our borrowed bikes) had to take cover from a downpour, which gave ample time to study this unique building. It conjured up visions of the Hagia Sophia, a spectacular example of cultures blending (by force, but that is another story....)

Unfortunately, we were unable to take refuge within the walls of the temple due to locked doors, but we did enjoy the dry porch of a teaching hall while listening to the pontifications of a jolly monk as he chanted and preached to a few souls, ensconced within another building on the opposite side of the main hall. 

The downpour eventually turned to drizzle, so we were on our way to other sites. We left quite content in finding such a unique wat in a non-tourist town. 

Afternoon Archeologist

Our first meeting with Wat Chetupon was as dusk was quickly turning to dark. In the waning light of our first hours within Sukhothai, we gazed as this behemoth; again flummoxed at how some ruins are stamped with a status that justifies an entry fee, while some are flippantly relegated to the 'other' category even though they are just as majestic as those wrapped in protective fencing. Wat Chetupon is a tossed aside ruin, but was to become one of my favorites. 

On our last day in town, we revisited this site, in the glorious, very warm, afternoon sunshine. On our first visit, we had read the informational sign which stated this was a place that had long ago held the four classic poses of Buddha - walking, reclining, standing, and sitting. We thought we had sussed out the standing, sitting, and walking positions, but were confused as to where the reclining one would have been placed. We hypothesised as we walked into the darkness after that first walk-through. On our second exploration, we looked up, down, sideways, changed vantage points multiple times...still baffled. 

The eureka moment came when Zach climbed onto the mon-dop centre area. As I watched him stand beside a pile of bricks, I slowly dropped by head to the side and squinted my eyes a smidge - then I saw it. It was the rough, brick outline of a reclining Buddha. I yelped in excitement and conveyed my epiphany moment. Zach walked to the backside of the pile, mumbled a few hmmms, turned his head from side to side, then joined the excitement of our discovery. We even did a bit of a face palm when we noticed the feet position - it was obvious they were feet.  

Instead of the statues being in succession in regards to the linear building layout (which we thought due to a pesky small sitting Buddha located near the back of the ruin), they were clustered in a square pattern. Facing the front was the walking...

...to the right, the sitting...

...to the left, the reclining...

...and on the back, the standing. 

We were absolutely thrilled with our stroke of brilliance - our personal moment of opening a tomb in the Valley of the Nobles or unearthing the Terracotta Warriors of Xi'an. The pigeons squawked at our yelps of delight, but they were the only ones to witness the moment. 

A handful of days later, we would revel in the find again upon walking into Nan's Wat Phumin and seeing the four Buddhas clustered in the middle, though all were sitting. In this wat, still standing and very much in use, we did not have to imagine what might have been.

The Walking Pose

There are traditionally seven to eight Buddha poses, one for each day of the week with a bonus pose thrown in for good karma (I think.) When entering a temple, these iconic figurines are usually located on one side of the path leading to the main hall's front door, in a side building, or to one side of the main hall upon entering the temple. These statues are akin to the zodiac or lunar calendar, though for a specific day of the week rather than for a year or set amount of days. I was born on a Tuesday, therefore my Buddhist characteristics align with the reclining Buddha - which Zach absolutely loves and feels is very attuned to my personality considering my love of naps. 

These specific poses are quite sacred in regards to the Buddhist teachings, which is why the walking Buddhas of Sukhothai are so notable. They seem to only exists there. The fascinating piece is that the variance between a peace stance or standing Buddha to a walking Buddha is one leg set back as in stride and the placement of one hand. 

I am amazed that stone can look so graceful, but then I am reminded that Italian sculptor Giovanni Strazza created the Veiled Virgin, which somehow turned marble into a translucent veil that is exquisite and mind-blowing. Some days I feel modern art is so cheap and slapstick in comparison. 

Scattered among the many ruins of Sukhothai, the walking Buddhas can be spotted, in varying sizes and varying states of ruin or reconstruction. It became a bit of a game to us to see who could spot one first whenever we entered new territory. Then the game became to speculate which ones were left as found or reconstructed or fabricated and plopped for the sake of having an infamous statue situated in that particular spot (there was definitely one and it was gaudy.) For pun sake, the game was afoot - one that had to be in the mid-stride pose. 

The end. Ha! 

Sculpted Fingers

Sukhothai has been on our Thailand to-list for years. We find it humurous that we planned to make our way to this bygone kingdom in January 2020 but became distracted by the Olympic-qualifying football games in Bangkok. We tossed aside the slow meander from north to south and flew directly from Chiang Rai to Bangkok for some footy. A decision we still stand by - especially, when a year and a half later, we were able to visit this incredible site sans tourists. 

The kingdom of Sukhothai is considered the epitome of classic Thai style, especially since the most prominent of the kings - King Ramkhamhaeng - is credited with developing the Thai script still used today. King fun facts aside, Sukhothai is actually known for two unique things - walking Buddha images and the elegant carving style of the hands and fingers on the Buddha statues. 

I have seen many Buddha sculptures over the years...and Sukhothai made me stand in awe. I add myself to the multitude who extol the hand carving skills of the 13-ish century stoneworkers as amazing. The towering duo found in Wat Mahathat was absolutely breathtaking to me. I believe I sat and stared at each of them for at least 20 minutes - especially the hands. 

Oh, the elegance - long, slender fingers complete with manicured nails. The sitting Buddha of Wat Si Chum even had a bit of gold glitter to its nails. Nonetheless, as I continued to study these beautiful creations, I was quickly reminded of a lesson in a middle school art class when the teacher declared that eyes and hands are the hardest things to capture in any form of art. I have definitely seen some botched hands, but these beauties sprinkled around Sukhothai evoked quite a few images - from a classical piano player's flow across the keys to a very large deity bestowing the daintiest pat on a child's head.  

I am frequently asked how wats/temples/churches/mosques can continue to amaze me after so many years of travel, and I believe it because I search for what makes that particular building or site unique. There are so many things that are similar, but each place tends to have a unique quirk; for example, graceful hands with beautiful fingers. 

Marvel

In a moment of scrolling my library app, Libby, the cover of a magazine caught my eye. A navy blue background with a variety of fall leaves scattered around one word, in bold, white, all-caps lettering: HUMBLE. Tucked in the upper left-hand corner was the title: the simple things - october. I cannot say what was the actual pique to my interest - the simplicity of the design, the colors of leaves that do not exist here in Thailand, or my inquisitive side wondering what a magazine would ruminate upon with just one word as a theme. 

I opened the magazine bio, clicked the borrow button, and downloaded it to my e-reader. 

Within five pages, I was smitten. 

By page 131, I felt if my likes/thoughts/ramblings/weirdness were to be represented in a magazine, this was it. It is published in England, which means I even get to see dear words spelled with -re rather than -er. Really, theatre seems more refined than theater...to my eye.

As soon as I finished the October issue, of course I scouted out the November issue; which brings me to why I write this intro for a newfound magazine. The next issue's bold word is MARVEL. The pages filled with stories and things to remind one to look at moments, people, places, and things differently or how to savor them in a new way. However, in a section called November Almanac, this blurb was written: 

Marvels have earned themselves a reputation as a rarity, a thing to astonish and amaze, coming from the Latin, mirabilia (wonderful things). But we think we should all spend a little more time marvelling at the everyday. When you stop and think, every moment of our lives is filled with marvels. Imagine how a 13th century peasant would marvel at the idea of simply turning on a tap in the morning and finding clean water in it, let alone being able to fill a kettle to boil it without first having to light a fire. Your morning cuppa is a marvellous thing! And marvels do not have to be technological. Your 13th century peasant friend would likely already know that daisies close up in the evening, but would it be just as impressed as you are if you both stopped to think about how clever it is that those flowers tucks themselves up each night. This month, instead of a gratitude jurnal, which may sometimes make you feel a little guilty for not thanking every item in your life, try a marvel journal. Jot down one things a day that has made you wonder, or feel curious, and make your every day feel a little more marvellous. -The Simple Things, November issue, page 23

This blurb actually made me lay down my e-reader for a pause moment, for several reasons. One, a mere handful of days ago, Zach and I were having a conversation about how being plopped back in time, declaring the wonders of electricity, would most likely get us burned as witches. Why? We can talk about how glorious it is, but I cannot create electricity or any of its necessary components. Even tonight, I had to hack my way into a tin can of pureed pumpkin (gifted from a departing expat) because we do not own a can opener - a modern invention, yet I have no idea how to manufacture such a thing - especially in an immediate situation. Also, the marvel of turning on a tap for running water is never lost on us, thanks to our year living in Shantou. Therefore, speaking of 13th century peasants was very relevant. 

Two, I agree with the sentiment of a gratitude journal. I do understand them, I appreciate them, I adore the idea, I am thrilled to hear when people have them....but it sometimes does seem to be a litany of all the life things. Gratitude abounds within me - especially after living overseas and even the mayhem that was 2020. I am forever grateful for the Tos...yet, I absolutely marvel at what a year it was to be. I marvel at how Joel can cook a hunk of weird looking meat turning it into something people devoured. I marvel at how Lisa can take something as simple as a puzzle table and turn into such a family bonding experience. I marvel that Kaden and Zach do yoga the exact same way (pfft, footballers.) I marvel at how Addysen takes a handful words and turns them into art. Or, take my parents - who I am profusely grateful for - yet, I marvel at how my dad can look at a chainsaw and spout of a number/letter combination that corresponds with a needed part. I marvel at how my mom can take tomato juice, macaroni, cheese, and garlic salt and somehow turn it into a soul-soothing soup that is stupidly hard to replicate.

Marveling.

At any other moment, such a passage of words about marvel may not have been so captivating, but we finished travelling last week. Sorting through a lot of pictures, journal notes, and paper tidbits picked up along the way is always a bit of an undertaking (especially when surprised with a school term start two weeks early - not a marvel moment.) The stories to tell are numerous and constantly swirling in my head (truly, the majority of my headspace is a lot of misfit sentences, random quilt top ideas, and potential to-do lists for a day.) At times, especially after a period filled with a lot of life, the taming and cohesive creation of the words and sentences seems daunting. So, after reading and pondering, I think instead of a massive, chronological write-up of all we saw and did, I may approach this set of travelogues as a daily marvel. Each blog post is something we did, saw, or experienced that was incredible. Zach and I laughingly say we packed a pre-pandemic 6-week travel into a 2-week stint, so there is a lot. I am excited to face my notes and pictures with less of an attitude of this-is-what-we-did, but rather more of we-got-to-see-this-amazing-thing. So, here is to many days of marvel!