It all started with the fan in our room in Sangkhlaburi. It wouldn't turn off. I turned the knob to every position and the fan kept blowing. It was 4.30 in the morning and I was awake because this oscillating fan kept blowing at me. I went outside to walk to the bathroom and decided to stay up and watch the sunrise. It was beautiful and I fiddled with the aperture settings of my camera for a bit. When the sun had fully risen I walked off of the grounds of the guesthouse, turning right onto the road at the end of the guesthouse driveway, toward some obnoxiously loud music given the time of day. Along the way I passed passed the occasional large solid house amongst mostly small, bamboo homes. These were one or two rooms large, with laundry hanging everywhere. The music was coming from what I presumed was a restaurant. It had a fair bit of outside seating and some blaringly loud six-foot tall speaker stacks. Past this restaurant - no one was eating - there were several boys aged about 10-12 playing with spinning tops. When one of their tops spun towards and then past me, I went and picked it and gave it to its owner. A minute later one of the boys offered his top to me so that I could try it. He showed me how to position the bottle cap tied to the end of the string between my fingers so that when I threw the top it would unwind along the string rather than be thrown through the air. I wasn't a very good top spinner. The two times I tried the top landed on its side and went spinning away. Some of the boys could pick their tops up, still spinning, with the unwound string and get them to land on their palms. I took a lot of pictures and the boys rejoiced when I showed them the pictures on the screen of my camera. After I was there for about 10 minutes a woman came over and led the boys away, presumably to school.
I continued down the street, passing bamboo homes in which there was the occasional television, outside of which there was always laundry. Women and some men appeared to be working around the house. One man was tending to a rooster, blowing at the side of its head, presumably try to remove something. I took a photo of a woman who had been teasing her son happily. Her mother, also in the picture, was particularly pleased when I showed her the photo.
As I walked back up the road toward where the boys had been playing with their tops, I saw them again, across the street, with 2-3 foot tall hand drums. A man who saw me take a picture of two boys with their drums encouraged me to go with them, so I followed, thinking I was going to see band practice. The woman teacher noticed me and also encouraged me along. She explained that the boys would play band until 8.30 and then go into town proper for school. There was the usual broken-English-exchange of "where are you from" "I'm from california" etc. She said her brother had married and moved to Australia...somewhere in there I learned there was going to be a wedding in town later that day. After calling the boys together they each picked up a drum and played along with her as she beat on her pie-tin-sized gong. A man joined in with his voice and his small cymbals and another man watching it all was carrying fire crackers, which I thought was odd. I was handed a drum and encouraged to get in formation. As I walked into place I looked down the hill and realized that just 20 m away were about 40 people, paired up in line, carrying food. I didn't know how they got there but I knew the wedding was going on so I thought they were rehearsing the processional. Then the teacher, the man, and the boys, with me along with them, began to walk up the hill - the boys beating their drums.
When we reached the restaurant that had been playing the incredibly loud music we stood back and let the rest of the procession pass us. By this time, encouraged by others, I was beating along with the simple beat and skipping the more complicated part. When the fire crackers began to go off my growing suspicion that this was not a rehearsal but was the real wedding was confirmed. Soon I saw the groom with his mother. He was dressed in a while admiral looking suit. The procession filed in, taking their shoes off first, and left the food that they had been carrying in two neat rows. The medium sized room that seemed to be the center of things was not large enough for everyone but this did not appear to be a problem. Many went in and came right out. Many sat on the porch or at the tables set up for the reception. I was encouraged to enter, and after declining/resisting for a bit, I did. The bride and groom were kneeling together with a small bunch of offerings before them. Along a back wall all the food brought by the guests was laid neatly on the ground. (Outside in a corner, the reception food was being prepared.) After a minute I stepped out and sat down, failing to be inconspicuous.
The tables had simple place settings along with Coke and Sprite or Coke and Fanta. Eventually two cases of Thai whiskey showed up and a few were placed at some of the tables - the affair wouldn't be as minimal as I had been imagining. I was brought a sprite and began to think about leaving as I did not want to intrude any more than I already had.
I did not know what was happening inside but it was not as demanding of attention as an American wedding. Many outside seemed uninterested in the proceedings, including a group of older men who I suspected had been drinking their whisky since before the bride and groom knelt down. After a brief, light round of applause a girl stood at the window to watch what was going on inside. Along with a few others I stood and looked over her as someone elderly, perhaps a parent, tied some string around the wrist of the bride and then the groom. This act was performed by at least three others. The string was usually dipped in a little water and then, seemingly used to bless the offerings before either the bride or groom held out his or her wrist on a pillow for the string to be tied. After watching this for another minute I left...amazed to have participated in as much as I had.
As for the movie...I mentioned a while back that I had gone to an audition for an American movie and that I didn't expect anything to come of it but the free bottle of water. About a week after I first went in I got an email asking me to come back a few days later (this is why Bet and Lauren went on from Chiang Mai to Phuket before me - I was staying for this second audition). So, I went back. There were about 15 of us, all ages, only one woman, waiting in a room for two hours before the director showed up. We were paired off and one thing led to another and they've asked me to come back to Chiang Mai to participate in a few weeks of boot camp. The movie is about the Vietnam War and the My Lai massacre. I think they want us to look appropriately militaristic in those "sir, yes sir" moments. They haven't told me that I have a role but the boot camp will be paid. My guess is that I might wind up as sort of a foreground extra - the guy next to the guy with a speaking part. I'm not sure what will happen other than Bet leaves tomorrow and I don't. Take care.
