"Have a lie in" P'Om says to me as she reverses out of the drive way to go and see her mother and celebrate mother's day. While the house is empty I do my washing, make myself a large cup of coffee and sit still for the first time since before the wedding. The remnants of the celebrations are littered here and there; odd orchids looking slightly worse for wear and the golden trays used for offerings to the monks during the ceremony.
It's not long, however, before P'Jim and P'Suapon return. Concerned that I'm alone I'm whisked off to an aerobics class with P'Jim, where my coordination completely fails me, before coming home to learn the art of making masaman curry, and finishing the day on a trip to Klooy's (P'Jim's new son in law) home. My five minutes of calm contemplation evaporated, but at least, I think, I have my lie-in tomorrow morning.
Ironically I'm awake and dozing by half six, conditioned by the routine of going to school, but I laze in bed, flicking through the photos I've taken of the last week and dreaming of toast and tea for breakfast which I know is wishful thinking. At 7am P'Jim is at the door checking I'm awake. "Bai Wat, Lichee". We're going to the temple...Not exactly the lie in I had in mind, but still it means my turquoise shirt I bought especially for the Mother's Day Celebrations at school gets a second wear, so I dress quickly, fold myself into the back of of P'Saupon's pick up truck and head off to the temple.
Today the ritual of offering the local Monks home cooked food is supplemented with the tradition of washing the hands of the grandmothers from the local town. They stroke my hands as I wash them, chatting away to me in Thai which I fail completely to understand. Their creased faces are wrinkle up into large grins as I trip over the pronunciation of souksanwanmae for the umpteenth time and manage to pour the water rather indelicately over their palms.
I'm called up at the end of the ceremony with a pour bystander student to prove her English capabilities. We do fine until we hit, what school do you go to, where it rapidly ends in a lot of geng maaks (very goods) and clapping.
We head home by midday with fried shrimp left over from the monks feast. In my head I pre-plan an afternoon doze and perhaps some planning for the last fortnight of teaching; a well deserved laze around. But my feet barely touch the driveway before we're off again to visit the grandma of the family.
It's a longish journey as every ten minutes or so we stop at the roadside stalls to pick up another delicacy. Kun nom ja (sticky baked coconut rice) is definitely a new favourite as are the small baked bananas.
P'Jim's mother lives on the remnants of a mangrove forest on route to the sea. It perches between roadside and the sludgy waters that feed the roots of the mangroves. The flickers of sea breeze occasionally blow over us as we sit eating on the veranda. Bitauy (P'Jim's daughter) reminisces about catching crabs between the floorboards when she was a child; the perfect Grandmother's house, overflowing with food and nic-naks for playing.
It turns out that we're actually en route to see the statue of the Prince of Chumphon, famed for having built the Thai navy, for studying Chinese medicine and having died in the region, blessing the town with his name. Each visitor to his statue must help in it's upkeep, placing small squares of gold on the figure and praying for good health and happiness.
I'm also led through other rituals, praying and shaking sticks to guess my future and attempting to lift a golden elephant with one finger. I'm not really sure of when I'm meant to praying, or what for, but the grave look on P'Bitauy's face when she reads out my fortune from my stick shaking makes me glad that I can't decipher any of the Thai.
This coast is sparsely visited by foreign tourists, being an awkward distance from the city centre. The beaches are largely empty asides from a few people dipping their toes in the shallows. Visitors shelter in the shade of the beach side restaurants, venturing out only when the sun has melted into a hazy dusk. We too hide away beneath the shade of a restaurants. Dining on spicy scallops, cucumber salad and fried rice, it feels an age since I was washing hands at the temple. Even further still from my "lie in" this morning. I barely understand the conversation and like a three year old can only offer my thanks through showing appreciation of the food. I kick myself that I didn't learn Thai faster, but in reality we're all too tired to talk on the way home as we snake away from the coast and back the green depths of Chumphon's countryside.
It's not long, however, before P'Jim and P'Suapon return. Concerned that I'm alone I'm whisked off to an aerobics class with P'Jim, where my coordination completely fails me, before coming home to learn the art of making masaman curry, and finishing the day on a trip to Klooy's (P'Jim's new son in law) home. My five minutes of calm contemplation evaporated, but at least, I think, I have my lie-in tomorrow morning.
Ironically I'm awake and dozing by half six, conditioned by the routine of going to school, but I laze in bed, flicking through the photos I've taken of the last week and dreaming of toast and tea for breakfast which I know is wishful thinking. At 7am P'Jim is at the door checking I'm awake. "Bai Wat, Lichee". We're going to the temple...Not exactly the lie in I had in mind, but still it means my turquoise shirt I bought especially for the Mother's Day Celebrations at school gets a second wear, so I dress quickly, fold myself into the back of of P'Saupon's pick up truck and head off to the temple.
Today the ritual of offering the local Monks home cooked food is supplemented with the tradition of washing the hands of the grandmothers from the local town. They stroke my hands as I wash them, chatting away to me in Thai which I fail completely to understand. Their creased faces are wrinkle up into large grins as I trip over the pronunciation of souksanwanmae for the umpteenth time and manage to pour the water rather indelicately over their palms.
I'm called up at the end of the ceremony with a pour bystander student to prove her English capabilities. We do fine until we hit, what school do you go to, where it rapidly ends in a lot of geng maaks (very goods) and clapping.
We head home by midday with fried shrimp left over from the monks feast. In my head I pre-plan an afternoon doze and perhaps some planning for the last fortnight of teaching; a well deserved laze around. But my feet barely touch the driveway before we're off again to visit the grandma of the family.
It's a longish journey as every ten minutes or so we stop at the roadside stalls to pick up another delicacy. Kun nom ja (sticky baked coconut rice) is definitely a new favourite as are the small baked bananas.
P'Jim's mother lives on the remnants of a mangrove forest on route to the sea. It perches between roadside and the sludgy waters that feed the roots of the mangroves. The flickers of sea breeze occasionally blow over us as we sit eating on the veranda. Bitauy (P'Jim's daughter) reminisces about catching crabs between the floorboards when she was a child; the perfect Grandmother's house, overflowing with food and nic-naks for playing.
It turns out that we're actually en route to see the statue of the Prince of Chumphon, famed for having built the Thai navy, for studying Chinese medicine and having died in the region, blessing the town with his name. Each visitor to his statue must help in it's upkeep, placing small squares of gold on the figure and praying for good health and happiness.
I'm also led through other rituals, praying and shaking sticks to guess my future and attempting to lift a golden elephant with one finger. I'm not really sure of when I'm meant to praying, or what for, but the grave look on P'Bitauy's face when she reads out my fortune from my stick shaking makes me glad that I can't decipher any of the Thai.
This coast is sparsely visited by foreign tourists, being an awkward distance from the city centre. The beaches are largely empty asides from a few people dipping their toes in the shallows. Visitors shelter in the shade of the beach side restaurants, venturing out only when the sun has melted into a hazy dusk. We too hide away beneath the shade of a restaurants. Dining on spicy scallops, cucumber salad and fried rice, it feels an age since I was washing hands at the temple. Even further still from my "lie in" this morning. I barely understand the conversation and like a three year old can only offer my thanks through showing appreciation of the food. I kick myself that I didn't learn Thai faster, but in reality we're all too tired to talk on the way home as we snake away from the coast and back the green depths of Chumphon's countryside.