Author: Cheryl Fitzgerald

Changes in family life are dominating the Thai landscape. Greed and jealousy are splitting apart extended family units as members marry foreigners, move away, and send money home. To those left, it’s becoming a country of “who has the most and best.” Many drive new vehicles; move from wood/thatch huts into modern dwellings; and show off elaborate gold jewelry.

However, even disgruntled family celebrated the last evening of Songkran together. A party was prepared to honor Pong’s grandmother, Sumlee, the family matriarch. Along with the usual water dousing, strings were tied around each other’s wrists to wish safe travels, health, and prosperity. This was followed by a respectful wai-bow and hug. A feast of shabu-shabu, barbecue, and variety of side dishes accompanied bountiful drinking and singing…far into the night for some.

A four-hour road trip took us north to Bueng Kan, what used to be Nong Kai Province, Pong’s birthplace. Marshes of pink lotus, fields of sugarcane, ornate temples, and quiet lakes lined the winding highways through mountainous terrain and valleys of farmland.

Near Pong’s aunt and other relatives, fishermen cast one and two-man nets into a small lake. Others poled skiffs to deeper waters, fishing with bamboo poles. Triangular boxes dotted the shoreline. These banana leaf containers held bits of food, resembling someone’s leftover lunch. People leave these gifts for the “spirits” to bring good luck. But once placed, you can’t look back or your luck will be reversed.

Only fifteen minutes away, the Mekong River flowed beneath a hazy full moon. Lights reflected across the wide, tranquil river. Trucks parked in the shallows blared music to revellers. Locals dined at plastic tables, water lapping their ankles as laughing swimmers in tubes floated nearby. A far cry from the atmosphere during the Vietnam War as refugees fled from Laos and shots rang out in the darkness.

We strolled the Friday night market near Chaijaren amid throngs of families and hand-holding teens, feasting on street-vendor food and bartering for wares. Pungent, spicy scents mingled with grilling pork and dried fish. Colorful lights strung along the walkway shimmered in the small central lake.

I contemplated how much joy can be found in the simple pleasures of time spent with family and friends. Traditions and holidays are still important here as they are around the world—celebrating our heritages and beliefs. They are what makes us unique. But our humanity—our love, hope, and respect are what binds us together. Immersing myself in a dissimilar culture taught me that we are all different, yet we all share the same basic needs and emotions.

Charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy. 1 Timothy 6:17

“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off your bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

—Attributed to Mark Twain

When traveling, expectations can disappoint. Shouldn’t it be about the adventure, not the itinerary? You will have more fun and less stress being spontaneous, not on a rigid schedule. I’m not advocating stupidity. You need to research destinations for weather, customs, language, etc., and prioritize a few ideas for what you want to see and do so you’re prepared.

I brought some preconceived notions with me to Thailand: Hikes through mountainous jungles teeming with waterfalls and tropical birds; snorkeling and kayaking swimming-pool waters encircling mysterious sculpted islands. None of that happened! We avoided Thailand’s exotic southwestern coast due to recent tsunamis; spent more time with family than exploring scenic parks and tropical forests; plus sweltering 90-100 degree heat/humidity prohibited extensive tramping.

Instead, we chose Pattaya along the Gulf of Thailand, south of Bangkok, for a few days of sun and relaxation. This coastal city with narrow winding streets swarmed with pedestrians, cars, scooters, tuk tuks, and street merchants.

From Bali Hai Pier a ferry motored us to an island that did have white beaches and azure seas. Coconut slushies soothed my parched throat while reclining under umbrellas. Hundreds of sunbathers cooled off on inner tubes, jet skis, or banana boats. Not exactly peaceful seclusion, but heaven compared to the northeastern village of Chaijaren.

Near Pattaya the playful garden of Nong Nooch beckoned. Pathways wound through the canopy. Bright hibiscus and bougainvillea, feathery ferns, and lianas adorned this botanical paradise where the breeze whispered through banana, palm and pine trees. Imaginative sculptured creatures peered out from leafy vegetation. Highlights were feeding bananas to the elephants and petting a  live tiger!

We explored portions of the Pattaya floating Market, a maze of khlongs-canals connected by boardwalks and bridges, bustling with shops and food boats. Also featured were a cultural village, herb garden, zip-line, daily shows, amphibious boat, and wooden trolley.

On a hilltop to the northeast in Chon Buri perched an elaborate temple and pavilion. Captivating ocean views were a backdrop for the colorful, ornate architecture. Giant sea turtles used to swim in the pools below but have been relocated.

Each locale brought contemplation of a miracle. Twenty years ago my son, Shannon, traveled halfway around the world and met Pong in Pattaya. They strolled these same paths, falling in love and forever changed each others lives. God definitely had a plan for them as he does for each of us. So, stay flexible and journey on…

Sawat dii ka—Hello. I’ve recently returned from 3 weeks in Thailand, immersed in sweat and the culture of a small village. My daughter-in-law, Sompong was born in the province of Nong Khai, near the Mekong River. After severe flooding her family relocated four hours south to Chaijaren in the Udon Thani province. Pong, her daughter, mom, and I stayed here with immediate family, surrounded by a proliferation of relatives during their hottest season.

Our reason? To celebrate Songkran, April 12-16th. The Thai New Year was basically a 5-day water fight! Families lurked outside homes with buckets and enormous squirt guns, bombarding any brave souls that ventured by. It did provide a way to stay cool. This was accompanied by boisterous music and dancing through the village. Money trees were presented to the Buddhist monks during a temple service, ending the festivities.

This 3rd world country is a conglomeration of old and new. Smooth highways narrow down to pot-holed gravel/dirt country roads. Modern stucco and hardwood houses are interspersed with shacks of tin, bamboo, and plywood. Vacant lots of discarded debris stand next to tranquil fishing ponds bordered by coconut palms and banana trees.

Most homes displayed satellite dishes yet running water was sporadic, controlled by the government. Bathing in a tiled room consisted of lathering up, scooping and pouring stored water from a waist-high tub. Dishes were washed out back, water supplied from a ceramic cistern.

Air-conditioning was rare. Our main house used ceiling and large box fans. After several sweltering nights in a private bedroom, I chose sharing a bed with Pong and 1-1/2 year-old Charlie in the converted garage apartment, complete with a wall unit. Occasional stomach kicks and face jabs were a small price to pay for cool air!

Thai food was healthy but often stored without proper refrigeration. Fresh chicken or fish and their unlimited basket of sticky rice posed no danger. We ate papaya salad, baby eggplant, juicy atalfo mangoes, jack fruit, and several with names I can’t pronounce or remember, but were delicious—Aloy mak mak! I often inquired what was in a prepared dish because you never knew. They used anything edible: roots, leaves, flowers, and BUGS! Adventurous enough to try the giant tree ants with their sour white creamy eggs, I drew the line at the large flying bugs and some type of beetle.

Meals were eaten while seated on a woven bamboo mat. No plates or silverware. Everyone passed bowls and dipped fingers. Surrounded by indecipherable chatter, I sometimes yearned for the familiar— a simple Chick-fil-a sandwich; English-speaking TV, music, and people; my husband, family, and friends. There truly is no place like home. Out of my element and halfway around the world opened my eyes to how fortunate we are to be born in the United States. I am forever grateful.

Rejoice always, pray continuously, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” 1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18

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