Central Scrutinizer Posted May 31, 2001 Report Share Posted May 31, 2001 Drinking Homemade Rice Wine More Village Life Tales (-Part 6) After talking to the dead guys, and seemingly doing okay, it was time to greet the monks. Behind the platform, where the gilded pictures of Sai's dead father and brother were displayed, was a bench, where about ten saffron robed monks were sitting. My lady went behind the platform and began wai-ing each monk down the line, from left to right, along the bench where they sat. I followed her, and did the same. One monk smiled at her, and said something to her in Thai, to which she replied, "America." The monk smiled at me, and, speaking very good English, asked me from what city in America I came from. Shit. I was somewhat nervous as it was. I really didn't want to pull a fuck up during this ritual, as it seemed, to me at least, that everyone's eyes were watching the farang, and waiting to see what the farang would do, and how he would comport himself. My hands were sweating. I had never spoken to a monk before. The possibilities to fuck this up seemed endless to me. I replied to his question. "From Boston. Massachusetts." He smiled broadly and said, "Ahhhhh! Boston Celtics! Larry Bird!" Jesus Christ. Here I am, in a Thai village, an hour outside of Surin, 7 hours out of Bangkok, and 10,000 miles from home, talking to dead guys, and some shaven headed, saffron robed, old monk starts chatting me up on Boston Celtics basketball, and how pathetic they have been playing the past few years since Bird, and Kevin McHale, and Danny Ainge had left the team! Unbelievable! We chatted for a couple of minutes, the other monks asking the English speaking monk questions about what we were talking about. They were all talking and smiling. It seems I was deemed an okay guy because of this exchange. I smiled a lot, answered their questions, acted politely, and got the fuck out of there as fast as I could! My lady beamed at me, proud that her man hadn't made a total idiot out of himself, and lead me back to where the ladies were sitting about drinking small glasses of rice wine, and chatting like a flock of magpies. God did I need a stiff drink!! I hate being in situations where I don't know exactly what I should do. I know how to behave, but I don't know all the little things that can screw you up when in a social setting with religious leaders and such. Nerve racking. I didn't really care so much that I'd look the fool, but I did care on how anything stupid I might do would reflect on my lady, and her choice to be with a falang. It's why I get angry when I see the idiot falangs behaving badly in Bangkok and Pattaya. Their behaviour reflects directly back to the rest of us visitors and ex-pats, and lets the Thai's think and believe we are all ignorant fools, and assholes who can't control themselves in public. Makes it harder on the rest of us. Sai called me over to sit by her. I sat in the chair she directed me to, and she said "Wait" and went in the house. She came back out with a medium sized brownish clay pot. Which brought about an excited chattering from the other females present. Sai explained that this was her homemade rice wine, and she wished me to sample it, and tell her how I liked it. A small, semi clean, drinking glass was produced for me, which Sai proceeded to fill with her own two lovely hands. She passed the glass to me and all the ladies smiled and watched me. I took the glass of wine, thanked her, and went to take an experimental sip. Floating on the top of the wine was a few phlegmy pieces of congealed rice matter. Yuck. Blowing the pieces aside I took a sip. Mmmmmm. Tasty stuff. Tasted very much like Japanese Sake, which, I suppose, it is really. But stronger. Sai explained that they made two different strengths of the rice wine. One for the ladies, and a stronger version for the men. This was her man's version, which was quite potent. Feeling that I was being tested a bit, and always one who is foolish enough to rise to any challenge involving fermented vegetables, fruits, roots, and grains, I toasted Sai with a "chok dee krup", downed the glass in a gulp, to the cheers and laughter of the surrounding lasses, and returned the glass to Sai, asking for more of her delicious beverage. The wine was piss warm, and filled with small chunks of the mushy rice phlegm. It would have benefitted greatly from a few strainings through a cheesecloth, and a couple of hours in a chilly refrigerator. After the third glass though it did indeed become quite palatable. Indeed it did! The air had been rumbling all the while I had been sitting around, quaffing Sai's delectable fermented rice swill, with the sounds of a movie soundtrack that seemed to be on steroids. After an hour or so I expressed my interest to my lass on seeing the "Village Movies" that she had so excitedly told me of earlier in the afternoon. We excused ourselves from the rest of the ladies, and she took me to see this phenomena. (to be continued) Cent (The Central Scrutinizer) next up: the movies come to the village. You can contact Cent at: C-BERG-X@webtv.net ----------------------------- Copyright © 2001. Author Michael P. Seaberg. All rights reserved. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Central Scrutinizer Posted March 11, 2002 Author Report Share Posted March 11, 2002 another Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Archived
This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.