This week has been all play and no work, and it has granted me endless excitement. Last Monday was Loi Krathong, a holiday in Thailand that falls each year on the first full moon of the 12^th lunar month. The holiday is celebrated by floating (loi) bamboo baskets down the river (called, krathong). My Thai friend explained it to me as such: “We use water all day, every day, except on this day. Today, we show our gratitude by reversing our roles, and giving an offering to the water instead.” This is the traditional – and literal – meaning of the holiday. As time has elapsed, the holiday has developed a second component: that of clipping one’s hair and placing a lock in the krathong. It is a symbol of letting go of the old, and floating our troubles out to sea. Whatever negativity you’re carrying, the water will carry for you.

The concept of new beginnings is always appealing; the visual that accompanies Loi Krathong is stunning. After school, a caravan of teachers traveled to the Mekong River in Nakhon Phanom City, to watch the biggest Loi Krathong festival in our province. As it grew dark, hundreds upon hundreds of people lit the candle in their offering basket and sent it down the river. Wishing upon my own basket and watching it float away was cathartic; watching everyone’s votives glow and bob across the black backdrop was magical.

Following the festival there was, of course, a feast. The word I am most familiar with in Thai is that for “delicious” – /alr-ai/ because it is presented to me as a question multiple times throughout a single meal. Since Thai is a tonal language, inflection is not part of their sentence structure (think of asking questions in English: we raise our voices at the end to indicate that we’re looking for an answer). Instead, in Thai, the word mai signals that the sentence is a question. They say, xrxy mai? You say, xrxy mak (“very delicious”). It is always the same. Never, “Do you like it?” Never, “How is it?” Always, “Is it delicious?” In Thai food culture, there is a lot of love both for one’s eating companions and for what one is eating. Anything less than a delicious meal agreed upon by all does not cut it.

The following night, a fellow teacher’s mother had passed away, and all of the teachers left classes early to attend the funeral. We rented large vans and drove three hours (one way) to the teacher’s hometown in order to pay our respect. We entered the home to find an enormous, ornate casket sitting in the center of the living room. As far as American caskets go, this one was flashy. It was gilded in the places that weren’t already brightly colored, and red fluorescent lights were strung all around it. One by one, we kneeled in front of the casket, lit a stick of incense, and bowed down. Once everyone finished, we sat in front of the casket and smiled for photos. This was the most foreign element of the whole service to me – one that I am still trying to process. I know that taking pictures is a huge part of Thai culture, as is remaining calm and showing little negative emotion. To see both work in tandem at a funeral still struck me, though. Afterwards, we were served bountiful platters of chicken, sticky rice, bamboo stir-fry, papaya salad, and fish soup. Xrxy mak.

On Wednesday, I arrived at my first class of the day only to find out that it (and all classes that day) had been cancelled. The same occurred on Thursday. When I returned to my office with confusion – “No one told me classes were cancelled” – I was met with agreement – “No one told us, either!” Calendars don’t exist here. Schedules are rearranged, different obligations arise, priorities are altered, and everyone accepts it without complaint. This is a little hard for my structured self to take, particularly in light of all the lesson plans I’m so excited to get through with my kids, but there is no choice other than to adapt and to make the most of it! Mai pben rai (it means, “no worries”).

The reason classes were cancelled was the need for further preparation for the school celebration on Friday. Forty years ago, on November 18, the King visited Ban Phaeng. Each year, the school honors this memory with a celebratory day. Nine monks visited on Friday morning, and they said chants and prayers as the students knelt before them. Everyone was instructed to arrive at school that morning with snacks for the monks (the giving of food to monks is called “making merit” – doing good for the monks here on earth, as well as ensuring your successful reincarnation). One by one, we were required to take off our shoes, and place a snack in the basket sitting in front of each monk (never to touch the basket itself, though). The snacks ranged from candy to fruit to sticky rice. After this ritual, everyone sang the King’s Song. It was quite moving even to me; for those who are deeply grieving, it overtook them with tears. It was an emotional and lovely morning. Followed, naturally, by free food. Free coconut ice cream, free meals at all of the standard cafeteria stations for the stduents, and a free catered lunch of fish, fried rice and sweet soup dessert for the teachers.

There is a Chinese teacher here who lives next door to me and participates in a program much like mine, from China. After the event, she and I were told that classes Monday had been cancelled as well, so we booked a flight to Bangkok that night and were excited to make the most of our long weekend.

Our time in Bangkok was so much more enchanting than I had even anticipated. We began the trip with a visit to the Grand Palace (the former residence of the Thai monarch) and Wat Phra Kaew (the most majestic temple I have ever seen). In order to enter the complex, we had to walk the limits of it. Surrounded by an enormous wall, we could see the spires rising into the sky, and the feeling it generated was reminiscent of Disneyworld. So much color and splendor oozed from the sight before us, but where Disney attempts to create a magical alternate universe, the Grand Palace complex is an authentic showcasing of this culture in reality, making it all the more stunning.

The Palace and Temple were built in 1782, when King Rama I moved the capitol city to Bangkok at the start of his new Chakri Dynasty. Within the palace fortification, the number of jeweled walls and golden stupas was overwhelming. Rooftops resembled extravagantly decorated wedding cakes with frosting flowers billowing around every edge. Golden railings came to an end in the shape of snakeheads, with gems for eyes, and golden statues guarded every entryway. Sparkling mosaics spread across all of the gilded walls and columns, which stretched as high into the sky as I could see. The beauty was shocking. I felt as if I could drown in the flamboyance of it all.

From there, we spent time in the Chao Phraya River, the express boat being the cheapest form of public transportation and also the most thrilling. Lining the shores was temple after temple, each more glorious as the next.

The next stop of our trip was the Floating Market, about an hour outside of the city. Outdoor markets are a major dining attraction in Thailand, ranging from the famous Chatuchak market in Bangkok to a quaint market in my own village (and a second, special market in Ban Phaeng on Thursdays). This market, though, was unlike anything I had ever seen. Each vendor was stationed in an individual canoe, and paddled his or her foods along the market, looking for hungry buyers. Some vendors sold fruit, some ice cream, and some even had grills on board for hot meat-on-a-stick sales. As customers, we paddled our own boats around Damneon Saduak, pulling over to another boat when we wanted food, or hopping out on shore when we saw a clothing store we liked. It was one of the most unique things I have ever done. I didn’t buy anything; I was too awestruck.

We wrapped up the weekend with a visit to Chinatown. It had the general big city energy that I love, but the nuances of it felt very foreign. There was a mixture of old and new, familiar and uncomfortable. I thoroughly enjoyed its ambiance. Lastly, we went in for a traditional Thai massage (250 baht, or $7.00), and took an overnight, 12-hour bus back to Ban Phaeng. It was my first time leaving my village since I’ve moved here. Bangkok won me over in a really big way, but at the same time, it feels so good to be home.