An unfinished view of Chinese New Year

I was awoken by a soft knock at my door.

“Lyndsey,” said a small voice traveling through the thick wood.

I put the feather pillow over my ears and groaned.

There was another knock and again the muffled but firmer voice floated into the room.

“Nong Lyndsey”

“Die ka,” I spoke groggily back to the voice.

It was still dark outside and turning over to check the pick Hello Kitty clock I found to my disappointment it was only four o’clock am. Returning to my back I waited for my eyes to adjust and I stared at the ceiling. The wall above me was made of a thick plaster that was cracking in the middle. I transferred my gaze to the humming air conditioner in the corner; there was a spider web of mold growing onto the wall from the small water leak. I watched mold intently trying to pick out shapes that were incasing the left wall.
A slab of light spilled into my small room interrupting my concentration on the designs. In the door way stood a small and hunched figure carrying something in her tiny dark hands. Pi Pin, the maid, shuffled into my room placing a plastic cup of juice on my cluttered desk. Moving towards my thin matt she cleared her throat and began to blabber in Thai. Still half asleep, I started up at her blankly. Realizing that I wasn’t comprehending her words, Pi Pin, smiled and with a proud look crossing her face she stated, “You get up now nong Lyndsey.” Her face shone with triumph and I nodded my head clearly understanding her best English. I nodded my head slowly and in my best Thai I told her I would get up now.
Pi Pin then turned and left my room, stopping only for an instant, eyes examining a mural of pictures of my life in America.
Ten minutes later I emerged in the downstairs kitchen, empty cup in hand. I had thrown on a pair of cropped jeans and a bright tee shirt decorated with Winnie The Pooh characters. It was an outfit I would never wear in the United States, but in a modest effort to fit in with my new peers I sported the ensemble with pride.
Around the kitchen stood my host family, mom, dad, and two sisters. They were all faced toward the counter cutting and chopping colorful fruits. From what I could tell they had been up for hours preparing food. In the center of all the hustle and bustle was a feast of dishes arranged on the kitchen table. Bowls of steaming rice sat next to platters of yellow noodles and shelled crab. In the heart of all the heart of all the food proudly sat the center piece dish, the Chinese duck. All body parts still attached eyes it had been roasted and basted with a sweet red sauce. Beady black eyes staring back at me, the duck let off a thin wisp of steam.
A slight humid breeze blew through the open-air kitchen, tickling my nose with the smells.
My host mom noticed me and turned to greet me in a traditional Thai manner. Her hands were brought into a prayer position against her chest and her head bowed slightly. I immediately imitated her gesture, as it had become a second nature during my exchange. Upon my arrival in Thailand I had become familiar with this respectful greeting known as the “wai”. It was a way for the Thai people to pay respect to elders, apologize, and years ago, even to show people you were not carrying any weapons. Although the simple movement was not significant to me, I would not dare greet an elder in any other way.

“Sawatdii Kaa Lyndsey. Go good morning.” My host mom muttered.

Across the room Paeng, my sister, interrupted. “Are you ready?” she questioned. Paeng’s English was flawless and she spoke with a sweet and smooth accent that she had acquired during her exchange in South Africa.
By five am the sun had barely began to peak over the dry sandstone Khorat Plateau to the east. The small hints of yellow, orange, and red sunrise shed light on the front of our house as the five family members pilled into the mini van. I moved to the very back and sat with a large serving dish of exotic fruits arranged on my lap. We backed out of the cement driveway and pulled onto the highway. As we sped down the road I gazed at the lights of the Khon Kaen University, the Ram hospital, and finally up at the golden archway leading into the city.
House lights were being switched on in the surrounding highrise apartments. I tried to imagine each one of their inhabitants commencing their morning rituals. A quick bath followed by morning meditations and then settling down with dish of overflowing rice and chicken. Along the side walks vendors were unlocking their stores preparing an array of daily goods to hagle. Each stand contained a random array of items, most items were probably purchased very cheaply from family members who worked in factories. In the dim morning light business men and women had already made their way to small plastic tables lining the side walks reading the daily paper and slurping on fiery bowls of soup.
As the mini van worked its way around a bend, Bung Kenna Korn, the city lake shown into view. As we drove closer a smiled immediately crossed my face as my sisters pointed at a group of old men and women. They were all dressed in colorful shirts and shorts and were wearing seventies style headbands pulling back their wispy gray hair. Their wrinkled, time worn bodies were working to keep in time with the arobics instructor and the blasting entergetic Thai pop music. My attention was caught by one tiny man who was nearly a beat off the rest off the group, when everyone was stepping left he was still moving to the right and when they waved their hands in the air he was moving left bumping into another participant. It wasn’t a surprise for me to watch that man and see him smiling with accomplishment. I loved the Thai people for this. They were always smiling even in the hard or stressful times.
My daydream was abruptly cut short and the van’s front wheels hit the curb and lurched to a stop. Startled by this immediate stop I looked out the front window past my host parents. None of the surroundings looked familiar to me and upon inquiring about our whereabouts I received a brisk explanation in Thai from Pop, my younger sister. I nodded my head quickly pretending I understood everything she said when in reality her words sounded like gibberish. I couldn’t bear to let my family learn that after nearly six months in Thailand I still had a hard time comprehending the language. I followed them out of the car and down the street accepting that I wouldn’t ever know where we were until we were there. As it was I had already tried my best to let go of my American customs of always being in a hurry. I held back my questions and like a small child sulked behind my family.
It didn’t take long after leaving the airconditioned car that the heat stated to get to me. My face ran with large beads of warm sweat. I felt like the ugly duckling next to the Thais as they glided effortlessly through the humidity. Their faces pale and their hair soft and silky while my face shone bright red and my frizzy curls clung to my forehead and back of my neck.
Watching my feet stumble I nearly collided with a majestic gold gate that had seemed to appear out of nowhere. Resting atop the gates were power and guardianship in the form of two dancing Chinese dragons. Behind the gates lay our desitination. Materializing though the haze of insence smoke was deep red and bright gold temple. The turrets were decorated with more dragons and snakes. The sides had each been hand carved to represent a different story of virtue of Chinese Buddhism. A loud speaker played traditional pipes and clangs of Chinese music. I was instantly transported to a different world, vibrant and magical. Parked next to the temple were a line of suv’s, creating a sense of past colliding with present.
Morning devotees flowed noislessly in and out of the temple placing various offerings on tables and in front of statues. Still carrying the plate of fruit I followed the crowd noiselessly into the temple. In the great hall I found a table lined with Chinese barbequed ducks. This time nearly fifty pairs of beady eyes stared at me. My host dad carefully placed our duck on the table next to another family appearing to have just arrived. My mom then set out three plastic cups around the bird. Opening a bottle of cheap whiskey she poured each glass about half way. Watching intently my host mom explained that these were offerings to their ancestors.
Paeng, who had disappeared from the group returned holding a bundle of pink insecnce in her out streached hand. Dividing the sticks evenly between each family member we received eighteen pieces. Paeng took my hand and lead me outside the temple and to a large line of parents and children. As we approached the group I was greeted by large inquisitive brown eyes staring at my white skin and blonde hair. My face burned red with embarasement as I tried to avoid the schocked looks. Reaching the end of the line I cowered behind my sister trying to blend in as much as possible.


write more later.......