Gotta Eat Your Veggies

If there’s one thing that Thailand knows how to do right it’s festivals. All throughout the year there’s always something wicked sweet going on in at least one region of the country and it’s almost always guaranteed to be a good time. There’s the Ghost festival in Isaan that happened earlier this year or the Lantern festival that’s taking place later this month up north but the only issue is that living so far south kind of isolates me from a lot of cool stuff. That’s why when I heard about the Vegetarian festival that takes place in Phuket just a quick 6 hour bus trip from my home I was immediately up for the adventure. At first I assumed that the festival centered around the consumption of a purely vegetarian diet but I was pleased to discover that there’s much more to it than just that. Volunteers from previous groups had filled my head up with gruesome descriptions of Thai men and women performing bloody acts of self mutilation then marching in a procession through the streets that lasts all morning. At that point I was sold and just a few weeks ago I was able to finally cross this event off of my bucket list.

The festival goes on for nine days and through its duration there are dozens of events that take place all with their own significance and meaning. If this is something that interests you I highly recommend doing some research into it cause it’s really neat stuff. But if you’re just here for the short and sweet version; basically the origins of this festival date back all the way to the 19^th century when there was a huge population of Chinese tin miners working in Phuket. The story goes there was a traveling opera company from China that came to entertain the miners but they all became gravely ill during their stay. They deduced that quite some time had passed since they had last honored their Gods so they figured it was time to hop to it and hope that it would sort things out. For nine days each member of the traveling opera troupe kept to a strict vegetarian diet and performed religious rites that they had neglected to do. At the end of the nine days every member of the opera troupe was cured and word spread so much that over time more and more people began to celebrate and honor the Gods during this same time every year.

Nowadays the festival is most well known for its gruesome displays of self mutilation that go on for the entirety of the nine day celebration. I’m not exactly sure how the transition was made from a nine day meat fast into what is essential a parade of grotesqueness but however it came about it sure does make for a captivating scene. There are special individuals called Ma Songs (which loosely translates to “spiritual vessel”) who are believed to have their bodies taken over by the Gods during the ceremony. Once a Ma Song’s body has become a vessel they will impale their cheeks, tongues, and other body parts with various objects which all have some sort of significance to the Ma Song. The people believe that this act absolves the individual of any past wrongdoings either in their current life or in a past life. Other people will also make offerings to these Ma Songs in hopes that their own past wrongdoings will be forgiven. It’s said that the Ma Songs feel no pain during the process of mutilation because their bodies are inhabited by the Gods and the individual is in fact not in control of their bodies at all.

I came into this experience knowing very little aside from the fact that there would be gruesome sights and tasty vegetarian treats but I became absolutely fascinated by the Ma Songs. When everything was explained to me about how the Ma Songs are taken over during the festival I was skeptical to say the least. Logically it didn’t seem possible to me that all of these people just happened to have their bodies taken over by the Gods at the same time in the same place all for the same festival. After witnessing it in person though I must say I’m not sure it’s entirely outside the realm of possibility. I mean sure, a huge factor of this is the participating Ma Song’s willingness and openness to the whole endeavor and once you get a whole group of like-minded individuals together all behaving in the same way it encourages and intensifies the behavior.

Even so upon arriving to the temple one early morning to witness the start of the procession where all of the Ma Songs begin to have their bodies overtaken by the Gods I saw a lot of strange sites. The Ma Songs, prior to being skewered to high hell, would move about the temple in rapidly fluctuating speeds slamming their hands and feet on surfaces while hooting and hollering at nothing in particular. Their eyes would be vacant or rolled back into their heads and their torsos would rock back and forth if they sat down. The strangest and most inexplicable part is that some of the Ma Songs would start speaking Chinese despite claims that prior to being inhabited by the Gods they lacked this ability.  It’s truly a bizarre spectacle to be sure, one that’s infinitely better in person compared to reading my second hand account. I won’t say that this experience made me a believer in Gods or spirits but it was definitely some compelling evidence. I thoroughly enjoyed my time here and definitely hope to come back again some day to experience it again, if not for the wicked sweet body mutilation then for the endless supply of delectable vegetarian cuisine which ended up consisting primarily of fried foods.

But hey, I’m not complaining.

Still Living, Still Losing

Last month I was fortunate enough to be able to make yet another trip back home to the states for a quick visit that lasted only about a week (unfortunately I’m running low on vacation days). I made the most out of it though and was able to spend a lot of time with my family as well as be a part of the wedding of two of my closest friends. It was everything I could have hoped for in the short time I had which made it even harder to get on the plane to come back and resume my service here in Thailand. I spent my last night in the States at home surrounded by family and friends doing nothing in particular other than enjoying each other’s company when I began to receive frantic text messages from my counterpart back in Thailand. I read the first message and immediately my stomach dropped, my host father had died. I didn’t believe it, I refused to at first, surely I was misinterpreting these text messages somehow. I reread it again, it was a simple sentence, four words in either languages, “Pii Co is dead.” There was no way I could get that mixed up with any other statement but I still didn’t believe it, so much so in fact that I think I surprised my family and friends back home by how little it affected me once I announced it to all of them. I rooted myself stubbornly in the trenches of denial and it wasn’t until I arrived back at my home stay that I resurfaced and allowed the gravity of the situation to weigh on me. When I got back the house was absolutely packed with people, relatives from both sides of the family as well as neighbors and friends all congregating around long tables that had been set up outside the house. A somber mood draped lightly over the crowd so that ever greeting smile was undercut by a twinge of sadness and every lock of the eyes was held with a bit of intensity that spoke wordless volumes.

At this point I’ve been to more funerals in Thailand than I can count but this was the first time where I took it all in from the perspective of the bereaved and it was quite different from every one of my previous experiences. In the past I’ve only been an observer, a curious onlooker on the very outskirts of tragedy but now I was smack dab in the epicenter. I spent every waking moment with my host family the week of the funeral comforting them in any way that I could and most of the time all that meant was offering a gentle squeeze on the arm or a warm smile. Each day we’d be up before dawn to go to the temple and offer food to the monks then right after we’d go to the dining hall area where the extended family and community members were already hard at work preparing food for everyone. Typically, if this was any other funeral, I’d be entering the picture at this point coming with the people from my office to enjoy a meal and offer our condolences to the family of the deceased. Instead it was me greeting my coworkers upon their arrival and getting them served while they offered up their sentiments to me and the rest of the family.

The rest of the week followed this general scheme of things until the day of the cremation ceremony which was a whole other beast in and of itself. The whole family was up early to do the usual routine of heading to the temple and offering food to the monks but instead of heading off to prep lunch afterward we instead headed back home and everyone dispersed only to reappear again dressed in their finest, and most appropriate, attire. Back at the temple there were no longer dozens of wooden tables poka-dotted around the eating area, instead everything had been packed up and all the chairs had been redirected to the area where the casket was kept. That area was a large open faced room about the size of two average American garages placed side by side. It houses the casket and all of the floral arrangements that had been donated by members of the community. This is also where we would come to pray each day with the monks and it was no different on cremation day with the exception being that we did a lot more than just pray. The immediate family, myself included, sat on the floor right in front of the monks while everything is going on and the rest of the mourners and well-wishers occupy one of the hundreds of plastic chairs that overflowed outside the room facing in.

Around one o’clock in the afternoon nearly all the chairs were filled and I sat patiently with the rest of the family as we watched the monks slowly file in and take their seats on a raised wooden platform in front of us. We prayed with the monks like we had the previous days but afterward one of the monks walked over to a special seat off to the side and began to address the whole crowd with a long speech the nature of which I only grasped bits and pieces of. He spoke about Pii Co and his life, his role in the community as well as his role as a father and then went on to talk about the teachings of Buddha but this is where I was running into trouble. At this point I had been sitting on the hard tiled ground for well over two hours and if that wasn’t painful enough I was in a dress shirt and slacks that were quickly becoming patchy with sweat. My lower back and legs were screaming in agony which was only intensifying the sweating issue so when I was asked to assist in the ceremony I jumped at the opportunity to move out of my seat. My host little brother and I stood in front of the casket and handed offerings to each of the monks one by one but before the final monk approached everyone (except my brother and I) went back to their seats while two of Pii Co’s nieces came to the front to deliver speeches. Pii Bow and Pii Yuwi, who stood just inches away from me at a small podium that was set up in front of the casket off to the side a bit, began to give their speeches one at a time while I struggled once again with my sitting position which was now more of a knees-bent, ass to heels kind of situation instead of the classic Indian style. I caught almost none of the first speech because of how uncomfortable I was but about midway through the second speech I was caught off guard by the sound of the English language stumbling out of the speakers. As it happens Pii Yuwi had written a small portion of her speech in English just for me and while I can’t remember it word for word the one phrase that struck me was “you were like a brother to him.” Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to describe my state in that moment. Picture me, still sitting on my heels struggling with pain there, covered in sweat and now fumbling halfheartedly for my sunglasses to cover up the stream of tears pouring down my cheeks in plain sight of everyone in the crowd. I was a mess to say the least.

I did my best to keep my composure and eventually the moment did pass and then another and then another and pretty soon it was time to move the body to where it would be cremated. Traditionally before the body is burned the casket is opened up in plain sight for one last viewing of the body. I’m going to keep the circumstances of my host father’s death private but I will say that the nature of his death led to a pretty grim sight upon the reveal. Everything became real in that moment, it wasn’t just a hearsay story that I was piecing together from different Thai conversations, my host dad was really gone and there was the proof. The thing about being a volunteer here is that there’s always an expiration date to the experience hanging over my head wherever I go. I may not be cognizant of it at all times but it’s always there slowly looming closer. The problem is I was naïve enough to think that this end date to this experience meant I still had time for all of the things I wanted to do and say, that it somehow superseded the universal law that nothing is permanent. I let myself believe that because I still had six months left of my service that I still had six months to truly express just how grateful I am to the man who took me into his home and made me feel like a part of his family from the very first day. He was a man that really knew how to get on my nerves at times but genuinely cared about my well-being the entire time I was in his care. I would have thanked him profusely for all the times he drove me to the bus station or delivered a nice bowl of fruit to my room just because. I would have apologized for all the times I was less than courteous those early mornings when all he wanted was to practice his English and talk to me about stuff. I would have done a lot of things but ‘would have’ doesn’t quite cut it now unfortunately. The one thing I can do is be here for his family and support them through this tough time because I know whatever I’m going through they’re facing something ten times worse. I may not be able to express all of my regret and condolences to his family but I can certainly be there if they need a hug, I’m well versed in that department.

He was a good man with a fiery passion for life and I’ll never forget him.

Goodbye Pii Co, see soon na.

Hilarious Misunderstandings

Taking a break from my usual posts (or lack thereof) and linking this podcast that I was lucky enough to be featured in. Two volunteer friends of mine, John and Stephen, put together the whole thing which is titled “Have You Eaten Yet?” which, in Thai, is probably the most common phrase we hear on a daily basis. This ‘season premiere’ episode focuses on the topic of miscommunication stories between volunteers and there communities. This episode also features and interview with the Language Coordination staff member who works with all the volunteers throughout our service to help maintain and improve our Thai language proficiency. From start to finish it’s a great listen and I won’t tell you at what point I come in that way you gotta listen to the whole thing. So sit back, relax, and let the smooth, soothing voices of John and Stephen take you away on an adventure through all the facets of communicating in Thailand.

 

It Takes a Village

Summer is in full swing here in Thailand and that means the sun is shinning, my shirts are sweat drenched, and all the neighborhood kids are free to run amok throughout the streets as they see fit. From the moment the heat starts to pull people from their beds in search of refuge in the mornings until it finally relents in the evenings you can be sure to run into kids in search of the next fun thing to occupy their day. Sometimes that means getting together in a bike gang to roam the neighborhood or trekking out to the nearest creek to escape the blistering heat of midday, no matter what though each summer day for these kids is an adventure waiting to be had. In a lot of ways my neighborhood here in Phatthalung reminds me a lot of my neighborhood back in California growing up in the 90’s. I don’t want to come off like one of those pompous 90’s kids but back then, as it is here and now, a kid was able to roam free in the cul-de-sac without a care in the world. Somewhere down the line we lost trust in our neighbors and we began to prioritize caution and fear over fun. I’m not saying worrying about a child’s safety shouldn’t be a top concern but when it comes at the expense of letting a kid grow and learn on their own we could learn a thing or two from how the Thai’s handle things.

Here in the village there’s no summer camp, no day care, no where to dump your kids during the day where they can’t cause some good-natured mischief. Instead kids are free to spend their days as they see fit for the most part. Let me clarify though because I feel like I’m painting this portrait of a Lord of the Flies-esque world where children rule the streets and kids named “Piggy” are doomed from the start, and that’s not the case really. You see there’s still plenty of supervision going on but it’s more of a collective effort. Take a stroll down my street and you’ll see grandmother’s looking after babies on front porches, grandpa’s patrolling the streets and getting into everyone else’s business, here and there a few adults either coming back from harvesting rubber or getting ready to head out to the fields, plus a plethora of older Thai kids just bumming it. All of these characters play a role in making sure the flock of young ones that are too old to be held back by grandma and still too young to be jaded by the big beautiful world around them stay safe in the village.

Being here as long as I have I’ve come to gain the trust of the community and a welcome side effect of that trust is that I’m now eligible to be one of those sources of supervision. Whether it be biking around with a gang of 10 year old boys or having my hammock time interrupted by a 3 year old who’s looking for a dance session I gotta be ready at a moments notice to take on some of the shared responsibility here in my village. I must admit that it definitely took some getting used to. For a while it seemed as though I would never have a free moment to myself at home because once the neighborhood kids caught wind of my presence they were on me like Thais on rice. I had the vocabulary to tell them I was too tired to play some days but either they couldn’t understand my boorish foreigner accent or they chose to ignore my desperate pleas for respite. Even worse were the toddlers in my neighborhood who took an instant liking to me because of my symmetrical features and propensity toward hearty laughter. Not only were they too adorable to say no to but they understood even less of what I was saying cause the only words they could say were, “eat”, “poop” and “Matt get your butt over here it’s time to play.” I’m exaggerating of course but it was a real issue for me last year as I struggled to maintain some semblance of personal time to recuperate from days packed with learning Thai on my own through trial and error along with just trying to get my bearings in a new place. The problem was that I still didn’t understand how the system worked. Once the kids came to me I made it up in my mind that I was their supervisor/play thing for as long as they would have me but that’s not the Thai way. Eventually I caught on that once I had enough that all I had to do was pass them off to the next kind soul that would look after them. Sometimes this was the teenage girl across the street who plays badminton with the kids and sometimes it’s my grandma whose solution to things is to just shoo them all away to the next house, either way it all works out.

Now that I’ve finally gotten the hang of things I’ve come to really appreciate the system here for what it is. The whole thing would fall apart if there was even one untrustworthy person in our village but that’s not the case. Everyone looks out for one another and there’s no written or verbal agreement to it, it’s just how life is. I walk down my street sometimes and think about how I’ve never felt safer walking down a street anywhere in my entire life and it’s funny because I don’t think anyone else in my village ever stops to consider that. There is no alternative to this lifestyle for them, it’s just the way life has always been here.I’m sure things aren’t as perfect here as I’m portraying them, there’s always a bad apple or two in the bunch no matter where you are in the world, but even so the fact that kids can still play freely throughout the village at any time of the day is a testament to how well the system works. For now all I can do is enjoy it as much as possible and relive my childhood the best I can by catching frogs, playing marbles, and poppin’ sweet wheelies on my bike with the rest of the gang. Needless to say, it’s been a pretty sweet summer.

 

 

You Fell AGAIN?

Listen, the details of how it happened aren’t relevant because it isn’t nearly as entertaining as the aftermath that followed. Essentially last Tuesday I found myself on the side of the road with a chunk missing from my right elbow and a considerable amount of blood covering the rest of my mangled looking arm after taking yet another tumble off of my bike. At that point I had already called for help and dragged my bike a few hundred meters back up the dirt road from the fall site so I knew it was just a waiting game from there. Sure enough the first people to see me immediately screeched to a halt on their motorcycles and swarmed me to make sure I wasn’t about to drop dead on the spot. I was still in shock so all of their attempts to find out what happened were met with garbled bits of Thai interspersed with some good ol’ fashioned American curse words. It only got better from there. Within minutes a sizable crowd of villagers had gathered around me, some of whom I’d never even met before that moment, and I was starting to consider the possibility that I had sustained a head injury based on how little Thai I was able to comprehend in that moment. Fortunately I was saved by the bell, so to speak, as the village’s sole ambulance made a thunderous appearance and I was swept away by two of the guys from my office, Pii Wut and Pii Pui. I spent the entirety of that ride trying my best to hold it together because I was sure that Pii Pui, who was riding in back with me, was on the verge of freaking out himself. He did his best to cover up my wounds and wipe up the extra blood but he’s not exactly a medical expert so by the time we pull up to the hospital I’m pretty certain I still look like a wreck.

My suspicions are confirmed with my very first step out of the ambulance because based on how everyone is staring at me it’s clear that I’m a sight. It feels good to know that I will live on in the nightmares of all of the Thai kids that were there to witness my arrival to the hospital. I mean honestly put yourself in the shoes of a young, impressionable Thai kid who’s just patiently waiting in the lobby when an ambulance screetches to a halt in front and out steps a 6’2″ white guy dripping blood and babling incoherently in a mix of Thai and English. Safe to say you’d have nightmares too. Back to my point of view though, I get ushered into a room while every set of eyes in the Hospital lobby is fixated on my every movement. Then, thankfully, a nurse has the good grace to pull a curtain around the bed I’ve collapsed on so I’m left alone with just Pii Wut, Pii Pui and a couple nurses. Then the real show began. The pain has died down considerably by this point but my old friend ethanol is sure to turn that around. While the nurse prepares to engulf my arm in a sanitizing blaze of pain my Thai escorts decide it’s a good time to start some idle chit chat with the hospital staff. After he gets through the normal rundown of who I am and what I’m doing here in Thailand, Pii Wut (PW) throws out this non sequitur to the male Thai nurse (TN) that was standing behind me;

PW: “Hey, how old do you think he is?”

TN: *pauses to contemplate* “35?”

PW: “Naw” *dramatic pause* “Twenty. Three.”

TN: *small gasp* “Really?”

PW: “Really, really”

PW, TN: *at least 10 seconds of drawn out sounds reemphasizing their surprise*

So while they continued to discuss the finer points of my youthful exterior my physical interior, specifically in the elbow region, was being doused with what felt like liquid fire. Another nurse decides this is the ample opportunity to start asking me about my vaccination history completely in Thai (what did I expect though really?). However, I’m not quite completely overwhelmed yet by this point but luckily Thailand had one more surprise for me. Out of nowhere a little boy gets rushed into the same room as me carried in the arms of his mother. I found out later that he was bit by a dog which made sense because he was screaming bloody murder pretty much from the moment he first appeared. This is the part where I’m certain that at least a few Thai people think I’m insane because between all of the Thai being thrown at me (both directly and indirectly), the crippling pain in my arm, and the poor Thai boy screaming loud enough to alert people in Bangkok all I could do was lay back and asses how utterly ridiculous my life is, so I laughed. I can’t imagine what everyone else thought I was laughing at but thankfully the screams coming from the adjacent bed drowned me out for the most part.

Almost 200 people saw this picture before my parents even knew I got stitches, ignorance is bliss I always say.

 

Views from the 6

 

One in the thigh

 

Few days after the hospital trip at a HIV/AIDS awareness camp I helped out at in a fellow volunteer’s school. Before I could lead my activity the teacher there insisted I recount the incident to all of the students. Many laughs were had.

 

 

There’s so many things you just can’t prepare for coming to Thailand and when you find yourself in one of those bizarre experiences your sense of humor makes all the difference in how you perceive it. Never in my life could I have guessed that I’d end up getting stitches in a Thai hospital while other Thai people casually discuss my presence and a young Thai boy attempts to break the sound barrier but hell if it wasn’t one of my favorite experiences so far. The best part was that 6 stitches in my arm and 1 in my thigh came out to like 20 bucks American, can’t beat that. Plus, since then my go to conversation topic has been discussing the incident and then continuing to give updates on the status of my stitches as the week went on. I swear it’s made life so much easier for me having something to talk with literally anyone that crosses my path. I don’t have any plans to visit the hospital here again but you never really plan on going to the emergency room do ya? In any case, I wouldn’t mind it cause at least it would mean coming away with another piece of solid gold video evidence that living in Thailand is a wild ride full of unexpected detours;

The “F” Word

There’s a particular word in the Thai language that gets thrown around quite a bit, especially if you’re not from around here. It was probably one of the first words I learned in Thai simply because I was exposed to it so often.The first couple months here I could barely walk down the street without hearing it in some way or another. Whether it was villagers casually discussing my presence in the village or, more commonly, groups of schools kids giddily proclaiming my approach to anyone who would listen, “Farang! Farang! Farang!” I got an earful of it almost on the daily back then and even after a year of living here it’s still a word that pops up every now and again. To clarify, “farang” isn’t the Thai word for giant white man with big smile and strange haircut or anything like that, it’s simple the Thai catch-all term for foreigner. It’s seemingly innocent term that has become a bit warped over the years and which currently has an interesting bit of subtext to it that lends itself to be generally disliked by most of the other volunteers with whom I’ve talked about it. For one thing the word sort of creates (intentionally or not) a boundary between volunteers and Thai natives. When I hear that word directed at me it’s almost like drawing a line in the sand, here’s us on this side and there’s you over there on your end. It can be kind of disheartening when my main job in this country is to break down barriers like that and in order to better share and exchange cultures. Admittedly though this isn’t my biggest issue with the word. At this point, a year into my community, I almost never hear it and when I do I can kind of shrug it off and not think twice about it because I’m confident in the relationships I’ve built up to this point with the people in my village. No, my real issue is that somehow the word has become synonymous with old, middle-aged white men that come into Thailand just to bag a pretty young Thai wife and retire in paradise. It’s a stereotype that is a lot more common than you might think. In my tiny, rural village alone there are four other “farangs” and every one of them fits that description. On the outset, this type of behavior is essentially harmless albeit just a tad creepy depending on how the relationship with the Thai wife in question was established (that’s a whole other issue though). Coming from a nation where we pride ourselves on our freedom who am I to judge if someone wants to settle down in what is quite arguably one of the most beautiful countries on the planet. The problem lies with how Thai’s perceive these types of farangs and then how those perceptions get generalized onto the rest of us.

Me and the boss

Khun Kulpipit is the reason why I’ve fallen in love with selfie sticks

Our favorite activity is taking HiSo pictures with food

 

For instance, a few months ago I was in the capital city of my province hanging out with my program manager, Khun Kulpipit, who had just visited my site for an evaluation. She was nice enough to take me to the train station where I was set to take a late afternoon train up to Bangkok for a doctor’s appointment. Until then she offered to wait for the train with me and seeing as she’s one of my favorite people I gladly accepted. So as we’re sitting there chatting away, minding out own business we get approached by an old Thai gentleman. I use the term gentleman merely as a formality of course as his presence and demeanor would more appropriately be described as ‘haggard’ and even that is being a bit generous. He began to address my program manager in Thai and started making very rude and obscene remarks relating to the fact that she’s a Thai woman out with an American man. I wasn’t catching all of it (partly because he was slurring his words and also because my Thai still needs some work) but the parts I did understand perturbed me to the point where it was clear that I had to get away from this guy as swiftly as possible or else risk being kicked out of Peace Corps for causing an international incident involving an extremely rude Thai man and train tracks. To her credit Khun Kulpipit handled the situation very well and with a level head was able to disengage with the man and we decided to move as far away from him as physically possible. It was a troubling experience and one that I still think about from time to time because while it’s true that you shouldn’t let one bad apple get to you I couldn’t help but think that this one crazy Thai man was simply echoing the thoughts of countless others who simply had enough manners not to comment on the situation.

It’s unfortunate, it really is, cause it’s one of those things that has become entrenched within the culture so it’s hard to change. Plus, realistically, this is an issue that really only affects the male population of foreigners and really our list of inherent struggles living in Thailand is relatively short compared to females. Yet it’s still something that bothers me quite a lot more than I’d like to admit. I can’t exactly get rid of the portion of farangs that give the rest of us a bad name but I can offer some advice. As I previously mentioned there are currently four other farangs that live in my village, all of whom I’ve met and interacted with to varying degrees and while on paper they’re all pretty similar how each of them are perceived by the community is what sets them apart from each other. In just one example let’s put two of them head to head to compare. Let’s call guy one “C” and guy two, “L” for reasons that I came up with arbitrarily. Both C and L are married to Thai women and have been for many years now, both of them come from different countries and live in Thailand on and off for only a few months at a time, and finally they both have kids that are half Thai. The difference is when Thai people talk about C it’s generally in a familiar tone because of how active he is in the community and never have I heard a bad thing said about him. Inversely, L is often regarded as a hermit who doesn’t interact with Thai’s very often outside of his spouse’s immediate family. Neither of them speak Thai but C seems to be cut more slack because he at least tries to throw out the few phrases he knows whereas L can be a bit gruff and generally sticks to English which usually results in Thai’s being more wary to approach him. I could go on and on but the point remains if you’re going to be a white male married to a Thai woman here the least you can do is be cool like C and try not to be too lame like L. Really though this advice can be utilized by anyone traveling through Thailand. If you want to give farangs a better name then while you’re here remember to a) keep a positive attitue b) push yourself to interact with others and c) SMILE! Trust me, that last one works wonders and is a full proof way to win friends in this country. I’ve got the friends to prove it.

Welcome Home

Last July, right around the time I got to revisit my old home stay family in Suphanburi, I was about halfway through my first year of service here in Thailand and I was grappling internally with myself over a very important decision. You see after a rough few months it was made clear to me by my parents that should I feel the need to come home for a visit that they would be more than willing to accommodate that choice i.e. they would pay for the ticket. It seems like a no brainer right? Well for someone as neurotic as I am it was a bit less cut and dry for me. Around this time I was holding on to this antiquated notion that it’s not a real Peace Corps service unless I stuck it out for the entire 27 months. I know it sounds silly but I was really afraid of being thought less of for having to run back home to mom and dad. Luckily, something kind of serendipitous happened. When all of the volunteers got together for reconnect that month another volunteer, one that I greatly admire, announced confidently that she would be returning home for a quick visit shortly following our reconnect conference. Suddenly it dawned on me how absolutely insane my train of thought was. If I wanted to see my family and I had the means to do so then I shouldn’t give a flying fuck what other people think of that decision. As a result, just about a week later, I got a hold of my parents and set into motion plans to get my ass on a plane back to see my loved ones in America.

I’ve already spilled my guts about how I was feeling right before I got on my plane so allow me to fast forward all the way to the moment I stepped foot in LAX and was overwhelmed by all of the once familiar sites and sounds of America. I was so tickled pink by just the smallest things. Signs in English? Neato! Old white lady TSA agents gently directly me with their old white lady tone? I missed that. TOILET PAPER IN THE BATHROOMS?! Okay, that I’m not impressed by anymore cause I’m a full squat toilet convert. Even the fact that the immigration officer didn’t give two shits about the fact that I hadn’t been in America for over a year was oddly comforting. America; Land of the free, home of the “mind your own god damn business” mentality, I love it. It sounds crazy but you spend a year sticking out like a sore thumb and its actually nice to blend in and be a nobody again.

Before I move on to the super emotional, sappy bits I wanted to mention two quick things that really stuck out to me. Number one, holy hell it was cold. That first step outside the terminal was a swift kick to the groin, metaphorically of course. All of my east coast friends can berate me all they want for saying that I don’t mind one bit. California cold to someone coming from Thailand is basically the same thing as East coast cold coming from California, if that makes sense.  Secondly, and most importantly, I really forgot just how diverse America is. It’s definitely something I took for granted before my time in Thailand but it’s one of the things that makes our country so excellent. This is something that was exacerbated by the fact that I was in an international airport but still even in Bangkok, one of the cultural centers (cesspools) of the world, there’s still an inordinate amount of Thais and you can tell. At least in America you get all different shapes and sizes and it’s hard to distinguish visitor from resident. I could have stood around all day people watching and been content but fortunately there were a few extra special people waiting on me so I decided it was probably best to go find them.

Did you ever get lost in the mall as a kid? There’s that initial feeling of dread and panic that kind of overtakes you, then as you wander around hopelessly on your own you sort of get your bearings back and calm down but every now and then your struck with a wave of panic and anxiety. The longer you stay lost though the more it becomes normalized and soon your just casually walking around the mall without a care in the world. The fear and longing are still tucked away in the back of your mind but for the most part you’ve acclimated to the situation. Then, all of a sudden, you catch a glimpse of something familiar. Maybe it’s your dad’s favorite brightly colored shirt or your mom’s distinct hairstyle but there’s no denying it, that’s them. Suddenly your flooded with emotion that you can’t contain. Everything in the world is right again and there’s nothing on Earth that could spoil that moment. This is how I would describe my first few hours back home in America.

I had grown used to being alone in the giant mall of Thailand but always in the back of my mind was the idea of home, of comfort, of familiarity, and finally I got that back. That moment in the airport when I finally got to hug my little brother and be embraced by not only him but all my close friends that came to see me, well, let’s just say that if I could live out the rest of my days in that moment I would. Then I had to try my best to hold back tears at the sight of my girlfriend simply because I just couldn’t believe I was actually seeing her in person and not just on a computer screen through skype. To feel her in my arms again gave me a sense of comfort that I can’t ever recall feeling quite like before. I felt like the luckiest guy in the whole wide world and that’s another moment I won’t soon forget. However, when it came time for the real big moment of the day I just couldn’t hold it together. As we pulled up to my house I burst from the car the second I spotted my dad. I ran at him with such force that I nearly toppled the poor guy over. As far as I know there is no word in the English language that can properly encapsulate what I was feeling in that instant. No word to express the extreme rush of relief and hyperbolized happiness. No single phrase that can sufficiently summarize all the pain and longing that was released right then and there. I didn’t have to worry about how he would be tomorrow or the next day cause BAM he was right there, in the flesh, still kicking and full of life despite all the shit he’s been through. There’s not enough money in the world you could have offered me to suppress those tears. How lucky I am to have shared that moment with my dad. Again, words fail me. Then, as if drawn by some spiritual force (or she heard the truck pull up) my mom came out into the garage and with a hoop and a holler I hoisted her in my arms and the tears flowed anew. My dad may have lost a bit of spring to his step but luckily my mom had enough spunk and pep for the pair of them. The four of us (little brother included) were all smiles the rest of the day as we celebrated my return in the only proper fashion; surrounded by a house full of my friends and family, eating glorious American ham, and drinking obscene amounts of wine and other various intoxicants.

Among the plethora of worries and anxieties I had about going home, one of the things that I was warned about during training was reverse culture shock. They told all the volunteers, myself included, that for many the shock of returning home would be greater than the initial shock of being in Thailand. Maybe it was the adrenaline of being home again or the fact that I never had a spare moment to let it affect me but honestly it wasn’t much of an issue. I will admit that the first couple of days it was kinda tough to get back in the groove of things. I’m so used to not having to fully participate in conversations that I would be silent for long stretches of time without realizing it. Also all my pop culture references were embarrassingly out of date and I had no idea what the coco was or who was in love with it (thankfully that ignorance has since been rectified) but like I said on the whole I was able to slide right back into my old life and pick up where I left off. I give credit here to my friends and especially my girlfriend because they all treated me as if I had been away for only a few days rather than a year. None of them really berated me with a bunch of repetitive questions or insisted that I show off my Thai and I’m really thankful for that. The best I could have hoped for out of this trip was to feel like my old American self again and I got just that.

Two weeks is not a lot of time though so admittedly I was a lot busier than my old self but that’s to be expected. The precious time I did have was spent with family and friends running amock all over the place. I saw the beach, the mountains, and even spent a weekend in Vegas just because I had a strong itch to dance to American music at really high volumes. Oh and don’t get me started on all the food I ate, good lord! The way I look at it I had to make up for a year missed food-wise so I don’t feel bad saying I was stuffed like a Christmas goose literally the entire two weeks I was home. There’s simply too many tastes and experiences to go over all at once so hopefully what they say about pictures being worth 1000 words is true.

It just so happened that the date of my departure after this trip home was the same exact date (January 9th) as the day I left for Thailand last year. However that’s where the commonalities between the two different years ends. Whereas last year I was staring down the barrel of a two year commitment into the unknown this time around it was more like I was the one holding the gun cause now I felt like I was in control of my future. I knew exactly what I was heading toward when I got onto the plane this time; another year of working in a country that drives me crazy at times but that I ultimately love and can’t get enough of. Plus I only have a year left, I can do anything for a year if I put my mind to it, I think I proved that already by making it through year one. So while there may be a few cynics out there that may judge my decision to make a trip home that really doesn’t bother me anymore. I had my reasons for wanting to go home and I acted on them and I couldn’t be happier with the choice I made. Anyone that finds themselves in a similar situation should use me as an example; don’t let the opinions of others cloud your judgement, only you know if making a visit home during your service is the right thing to do for you. Personally, I feel like my trip was exactly what I needed to recharge my batteries and get me pumped up about coming back and finishing the work I started and that’s exactly where I’m at now. A  big thank you to all the family and friends that made my time special. My only regret is that I didn’t have more time to see even more of you but not to worry I’ll be back again before you know it.

The Difference a Year Makes

December 25th, 2013 exactly one year ago today I was spending my last Christmas at home with my loved ones before embarking on my adventure here in Thailand. Despite having only two weeks left until I departed for the land of smiles nothing could’ve been further from my mind than Thailand was on that day. That’s the beautiful thing about Christmas is that it’s a time when you can truly appreciate the ones you love and any anxiety or stress from everyday life melts away so that your left with nothing but this sense of unbridled joy. I realize that this may not be the case for everyone but I’ve been blessed with a life that has afforded me a countless amount of people to be grateful for so it’s hard not to be overjoyed during this time of year.

Fast forward a year and you’ll find me here in Bangkok, Thailand spending my very first Christmas separated from all of my friends and family back home.  It’s hard not to be sentimental and I’m actually surprised to be tearing up right now as I write this but there’s a good reason for that. These last couple weeks I’ve been mentally preparing for my visit home which I leave for in just a few short hours. It’s a lot to take in to know that such a short amount of time separates me from being reunited with my loved ones after a long and challenging year. I would be lying to you though if I said that all I’m feeling right now is joy and excitement. There’s a big part of me that just can’t bare to admit how nervous and downright scared I am to go back to the States. I’ll be coming back to a place that doesn’t know me anymore, a place that’s just as foreign to me now as Thailand was to me a year ago. It doesn’t seem like a great deal of time but so much changes in a year that I don’t quite know how to brace myself for the impact of it all.

My family back home have faced some pretty big challenges alone without me and I can’t even imagine what life is like for them now. After a seemingly endless uphill struggle my mom finally put all of the schooling and exams behind her this year and became a full fledged school teacher. I can’t wait to hug her and tell her how absolutely proud I am of all that she has accomplished and how much of a role model she is in my life for overcoming obstacles. Then there’s my little brother who’s spent a good portion of this time working to decide what his future is going to look like. I can’t wait to hug him and reassure him in person that he’s doing just fine being the incredible man he is already. Although, he has been working his ass off all year getting in shape so really I only have about half a brother left since I last saw him. Lastly there’s my ol’ pop who’s had arguably the toughest year out of the Fontana family. As some of you already know my dad was diagnosed with cancer early this year and has only just recently started his second round of chemotherapy. Needless to say this came as a pretty big shock to me last March when I got the news. Never in my life have I experienced that kind of helplessness knowing that my dad was in so much pain (although he would never admit it) and I was on the other side of the planet with no way to help. He was brave though so I knew I had to be too. If I had given up and gone home right then and there I knew he would have blamed himself in part and I couldn’t do that to him. I had to be strong even when that was the last thing on earth I wanted to do. I had to keep pushing, keep taking each day as it came and look where it’s brought me. Now I’m here on the eve of reuniting with him and I think I’m more scared now than I was back in March. My dad is my hero, my Idol, someone who hasn’t just raised me but also one who I’ve watched grow with me and it’s going to be hard seeing him while he’s going through this. I love him though, the same way I love the rest of my family and all my friends for that matter so in the end I know I just have to be brave again and pray that his first hug from me does shatter his frail body 🙂

A year ago if you would have asked me about my life I would have told you that without a doubt that was the happiest I could ever have been. It was a bit naive of me to think that I capped out on happiness at the ripe young age of 22 but hey I was pretty darn satisfied with my life back then. But now here I am at the one year mark and I can’t help but look back on everything that has come to pass up to this point. All the little moments of miscommunication, the frustration with working in a new culture, and all the times where I simply had no idea what I was doing. Every moment where I felt just absolutely lost, not just with my work life but with myself in general. It’s all built up to this moment where I’m able to return and show everyone how it’s shaped me. It’s been a hard year no doubt but also one that I’ll never forget. I would have never gotten to this point had it not been for my family and friends (both stateside and fellow Thailand volunteer alike) that helped get me through this. I’m extraordinarily lucky to have this opportunity to grow in ways that are hard to put into words and to live a life I wouldn’t have ever dreamed possible. I won’t say that this is the happiest I’ll ever be in my life but right now, in this moment, it’s the happiest I’ve ever been. It just goes to show that no matter what the circumstances of your life are there’s always better things to come if you continue to push yourself. 

So now with mere hours separating me from seeing the most important people in my life, despite all the fear and anxiety, I know I’m coming back a changed man for the better. Now more than ever I feel prepared for everything that lies ahead of me, not just with with my trip home but also with the year I still have left with the Peace Corps. Whatever it is I’m ready and I’m going to face it head on with the knowledge that I will make it out the other side stronger and even happier than I can possibly conceive now. I cannot thank you all enough for the support you’ve given me, even in just reading my silly little blog. It means the world to me. I’ll be seeing you all very soon. Merry Christmas.

My Best Friend is an 8 Year Old Boy.

I’d say the most common questions I get about life here in Thailand from people back home have to do predominately with two things; what I eat and how I poop. That may come off as a little crude but I’m serious when I say that people really seem curious as to what’s going in and how it’s coming out of me. Those are softball questions though cause if I’ve learned anything about Thailand it’s that the food is delicious and squat toilets are actually quite practical. You have to take into account though that I will pretty much eat anything (friends back home can attest to this statement) and also I’ve got awesome knees which are critical in one’s success when utilizing a squat toilet. But aside from those two topics one of my favorite questions I get occasionally goes something along the lines of “do you have any friend in your village?” It’s a good question but it’s also the one I have the most trouble answering. Pooping and eating now that I can talk about on ends but when it comes to the topic of friendship, at least here in Thailand, that concept has become sort of a gray area in my life.

Not to brag or anything but back home I have a fair share of people I’m lucky enough to call my friends and when your comfy and cozy in a culture you grew up in it’s easy to know who your friends are. They’re people you can talk to when you just need a friendly ear, people that you share common interests with, and most importantly your friends are people that just get you, ya know? In my opinion it’s kind of tough to find people here that meet all of those qualifications and it’s not surprising. The fact that I still stumble through sentences and generally have a deer-caught-in-headlights look about me tends to hinder my progress when trying to build friendships with people. Just to be clear since I have been here for almost a year now and you’d probably all be disappointed in me if I hadn’t made a single connection with a person yet at this point there’s a big difference to me between building relationships and building friendships.

All throughout training the importance of building relationships with people here at our sites was stressed pretty much daily. The only way we as volunteers can successfully conduct work is if we have built up trust within the people in our communities and I’d like to think I’ve done pretty well with that. I enjoy sitting on my neighbors porch with him in the late afternoons listening to Thai music together, going hiking with the men from my office to help plant trees in the mountains, or even just walking down to the corner store to watch women’s volleyball with the family that owns the place. These are just a few examples of the relationships I’ve worked hard to build over the past few months but at the same time I’d have a hard time calling any of these people my friends if I was going by my old standards.

As a result I’ve had to broaden my definition of what a friend is to me here in Thailand. Shirtless old man walking down the street that says hi to me when I bike past him? That’s my friend. The horde of school children that rush towards me demanding high 5’s when I arrive? That’s like 50 friends right there. The lady on my street that leaves her toddler for me to play with/watch whenever she needs a babysitter? Well her not so much but her adorable 3 year old son is definitely my friend. Still I was left with a bit of a hollow feeling cause I felt as though I needed to identify at least one person in my life here in my village that I could confidently proclaim to be my friend without it just being a catch-all term for the people I interact with on a daily basis. After much internal deliberation I’ve come to the conclusion that one such individual does exist and in fact lives just two doors down from me. Yes, I realized that quite possible the only person that lives up to my rigorous expectations of friendship is none other than my 8 year old host brother, Kong.

For starters we share a lot of the same interests the most predominant of those being video games. One of Kong’s favorite things to do is to invite some friends over who will bring their little laptops and together they all play a shooting game called Point Blank (very similar to counter strike for those wondering). The first time I was here to witness them all laughing and shouting as they violently massacred each other in the game reminded me a lot of my friends and I from home back in our glory days. I knew instantly then that I had been placed at the right site for me and the first chance I got I installed the game on my laptop so that I could join in on the madness. It was a very good move on my part because it brought Kong and I together right from the get go and we still play with each other to do this day. I’ve even shared with him some of the games I play and introduced him to one of my all time favorites; Peggle. For those of you not aware, Peggle is awesome and it’s filled with enough bright lights and sound effects to distract Kong from the fact that he’s terrible at it. Not to worry though, we all gotta start somewhere on the Peggle totem pole and really it’s more about us playing together and bonding than it is about who has the highest score, which is me. Always.

We also engage in very stimulating conversations, which is another cornerstone of a good friendship. One night at dinner it was just the two of us at the table together and this glorious conversation unfolded;

Kong: Hey Matt, you eat a lot of eggs

Me: Yeah, I like eggs a lot

Kong: I like eggs too, my favorite is when the yolk is runny

Me: Dude really?! I am the same! It’s much more delicious like that

Kong: Okay tomorrow I’ll ask my mom to make us eggs like that

And then she did, and they were delicious. Bare in mind that that all was all in Thai so it’s paraphrased a bit. Fun fact when Kong was describing the egg as runny he actually referred to it as nam kai which literally means egg water, kooky language am I right? Point being that it’s conversations like these that you only really have with your close buds and believe me that’s just the tip of the ice berg when it comes to the things Kong and I riff off each other about.

My last piece of evidence is quite possibly the most crucial because it is the essence of a true friendship in my opinion and it’s that Kong, plain and simply, just gets me. Occasionally after a particularly trying day at work I’ll come home and be too exhausted to play with the neighborhood kids but inevitably I’ll be faced with them at my doorstep screaming my name and peaking through my windows. All I have to do is give Kong a look and he’ll understand completely how I’m feeling and be my absolute hero and herd the other kids away so that I can get some rest. Or sometimes when I’m just sitting outside reading he’ll pull up on his bike and give me a bottle of my favorite brand of green tea that he bought just for me which has never failed to put a smile on my face. Most of the time it’s just the way he greets me in the mornings with an enthusiastic “What’s up!” (I taught him that) that just starts my day off on the right foot. So now when people ask me if I have any friends here in my little village in Phatthalung, Thailand I confidently respond that I do indeed, his name is Kong and he’s the best little host brother a guy could ask for.

Life & Loss in a Different Culture

Death is a tricky subject. No one wants to see their loved ones pass away and the whole process can be emotionally traumatic but at the same time it is inescapable. Coming from a Catholic background my relationship with death has always been very westernized, that is to say that when there is a death in my life it’s usually met with a hefty amount of grieving and sadness. Luckily for me it’s not very often that someone close to me passes away so when it does happen it’s treated as a significant loss. In Thai culture however death, and all the significant events immediately following, are handled very differently for two very important reasons.

Firstly, the sense of community here is vastly different from back home in the states. This has an interesting effect on death, more specifically the funerals that follow. Because the community here is so tight knit to the point where everyone knows each other funerals become a community event where every one from the village gets together to participate. So whereas back in  the states if your neighbor from down the street has a 90 year old mother named Ethel and she dies it’s pretty unlikely you’re getting an invite to her funeral, but if that same scenario were to take place here in my village the only unlikely thing would be that the woman’s name is Ethel. Inevitably if you’re part of a community here then funerals are going to be pretty commonplace by the time you’re an adult. In just the past month here I’ve been to seven different funerals, now contrast that with the number of funerals I’ve been to back in America which is two. Obviously it’s not that Thai people are dying left and right at an absurd rate (although sometimes I feel like that may be the case) rather the connectedness of each member of the community makes it so that death isn’t just an isolated tragedy that strikes one person’s circle of influence at random. When death happens here the whole community feels it and bares the weight together.

Secondly, and arguably most importantly, death is treated very differently here because of the big B word; Buddhism. Something like 95% of the population in Thailand identify as Buddhist and this has a staggering effect on how death is perceived. In my own personal experience talking with different people in my community about death I often hear people referring to concepts such as “rebirth” and “new life” which is most likely in reference to the idea of reincarnation. Surprisingly (for me at least) I’ve also gotten quite a few responses involving the idea of a Heaven in the afterlife. Now neither of these concepts are exclusive to the teachings of Buddhism but the point I’m trying to make here is that most, if not all, Thais believe that their loved ones go to a better place after death. So why does this play such a huge role in how death is perceived if their beliefs in the afterlife mirror what most other religions believe? Well imagine you go to church on a Sunday and on this particular Sunday everyone in attendance is 100% firm in their devotion to God, no if’s, and’s or but’s. Now imagine everyone in this church not only lives on the same block as one another but has also grown up together on this same block for generations. Now stretch your imagination just a tad bit more and go a step further to picture an entire country made up of blocks like the one I just described and you should have a better understanding of why Buddhism plays such a huge factor in people’s perception of death. Sure, I’ve hyperbolized the situation a bit but in all honesty Buddhism is so intertwined with the daily lives of people here it’s much more accurate than it isn’t.

I mentioned previously how funerals are community events and I want to try and give you a first hand account from my perspective on how the entire process plays out. The first ceremony that takes place is called the Rot Nam Sop which is where the body of the recently deceased is laid out at a temple and their community all line up and take turns pouring water over the hand of the deceased. This symbolizes the washing away of any past transgressions and is a really emotionally intense experience if you’re thrown into it without warning (more on that later). Following this on the next day there is a huge meal that the entire community gets in on. This is the part of the funeral I’m most familiar with because of my affiliation with the government office in my village. I always accompany the rest of the squad when they go to any funerals in our village. Following the meal there’s usually a ceremony which involves a lot of praying, monks chanting, and me getting increasingly uncomfortable as I’m forced to sit cross-legged on the ground for long stretches of time. At this point I’m usually done participating but after this all takes place the body of the deceased is cremated and after 100 days the ashes are returned to the family. Needless to say the process is just ever so slightly different from how things go on back in the states. I think if you were to witness a traditional Thai funeral for yourself the biggest difference you’d find is the atmosphere. When Thai’s gather together for a funeral it’s hard not to take note of the relaxed mood of most of the people in attendance. In fact if it wasn’t for the fact that everyone is in black (which is apparently the universal color for tragedy) you might not realize you’re at a funeral at all. When I say they’re community events I mean that there are literally dozens upon dozens of people coming and going, greeting each other, and just generally being their normal, jovial, selves. Coming from the states and my own religious background it was very odd to observe all this the first time around (which was months ago now) but if you look at it in the Thai cultural context it makes a little more sense. Death is a part of life and most often these funerals are for people who have lived long full lives so it makes sense that most people at Thai funerals aren’t openly overcome with grief and sadness. Unfortunately, as is the case with life, some people pass away before their time and usually this changes the mood a bit.

A few weeks ago one of the ladies at my office came up to me to let me know that someone had passed away. It was a man by the name of Pii King who worked in a neighboring village but lived very close by to me. He was actually one of the first people I talked to in my village and he always seemed genuinely happy to see me. We even did a project together in his village when I was still fresh at site still trying to figure out how to say “trash can” properly in Thai. He died from a ruptured blood vessel in his brain at 33 years old with a wife and two kids. That was the first death in Thailand that actually got to me because it’s always a little more heavy when it’s someone you know and doubly so for someone so young. I wasn’t crying my eyes out or anything but it definitely made me stop and have to process everything for a bit before accepting what I was hearing. After I’m informed of his passing I find out that the Rot Nam Sop is that same day and of course I agreed to go. Now this is the crazy part, at this point I’d been to a bunch of funerals but this was actually going to be the first time I’d attend the Rot Nam Sop and although I knew what it entailed I still wasn’t actually prepared for it.

I walk into the temple and immediately I can sense that the mood in the room is very different from what I was accustomed to at other Thai funerals. Everyone was lined up to approach the middle of the room where Pii King was laid out on a raised platform covered in a white sheet. No one in the room was really talking and I could hear Pii King’s wife gently sob as she knelt down next to him. Some of his coworkers and friends stood beside his body as well and all of them wore solemn faces with eyes brimming with tears.  There was a terrible sinking feeling in my gut as I slowly shuffled closer to him and was able to see expressionless face and thought how strange it was to be seeing him like this when just a few days prior he had had such a great smile. Then it came time for me to take part in the ceremony. I knelt down next to Pii King, gave a small bow then poured water from a small bowl onto his already heavily pruned hand that lay over a small vase of flowers. As I got up to leave the temple I gave a few words of thanks to his wife and the people around him and they offered back weak smiles and courteous bows and just like that it was over.

Once I walked out of the temple I was greeted with a much more familiar sight. All around the temple there were groups of Thai people sitting around tables and benches talking to one another, cheerily greeting new arrivals, and just generally being jovial. It was kind of a relief in a way, inside that temple there was so much sadness that you’re almost overwhelmed by it but once you go outside the community creates such a positive aura that washes over you and reminds you that the world is still full of so much life. So while I might be more familiar with the funeral atmosphere inside the temple I can definitely understand the benefits of a Thai funeral’s atmosphere. Death is something that all cultures have in common but the way people approach the concept of death can vary drastically, and who’s to say what practices are right and wrong. In the end we all end up in the same place and those left behind to grieve and mourn do so in a way which suites them best.

 

On one final note I’d like to dedicate this post to my best friend who passed away a couple weeks ago. To my dog, Chip, who was a source of endless love and joy to the entire Fontana family and all the friends that knew him. I’ll miss you lil’ pup, sorry I wasn’t there to say goodbye.