I live in a 'blessed' house

My home is upside down. That is, Raysiya's house, my wife. She is formally the owner of our abode, as I explained earlier on this blog. And that has to be celebrated. With nine (!) monks, which I have to pick up by car at the nearest temple.

My life is also turned upside down, because the whole house has been turned upside down. Monks sit on a cushion on the floor and not on my beautiful sofa. I live in a small house, so almost all the furniture is outside now. My workplace with laptop etc. has had to make way for the orange gentlemen and everything in the house has been cleaned. Even the refrigerators have suffered this fate. To help Raysiya with this big cleaning, a friend from Nakhon Pathom came over and since that moment I have nothing more to say. I wisely refrain from joking about this Efteling-like event, because it is not appreciated. And everything I'm looking for has been missing for days... In short, I don't understand it, because no Thai. Speaking of which, I don't understand anything!

As usual, the ceremony is attended by friends and well-known 'believers' and they must of course be provided with food and drink. The outdoor area has therefore been transformed into a kind of restaurant, with long tables and dozens of chairs. The guests can also sit on my comfortable sofa… Some farang partners have reported, for understandable reasons, that they are happy to pass up this chalice.

“It just comes with it. Understand it resignedly,” it says in friendly circles. They have nice talk. Even the car has been washed and a few visits to the local market provide just as many full trunks. Then the cooking for (how many?) guests still has to start. Communication with the woman's mother is almost impossible. She has been living in a different world for several days now, incomprehensible to our sober Western mind. I only play a part in that if muscle power is required. The gardener was not asked because of his muscular strength, but because of his climbing ability. He stretches a white thread around the whole house in the afternoon. The thread starts with the monks, a kind of spiritual Faraday Cage…

On Friday evening people pour in who also stay the night. An ex-mother-in-law with her son who actually wants to be a daughter. A granddaughter from a relationship of her late son with his mia noi, a friend who is looking for a foreigner with her son. And we only have three bedrooms. Mine is off limits. They just figure it out, but knowing Thai, they succeed wonderfully.

At night it starts to thunder and rain heavily. To make matters worse, the power goes out for miles around. That means: no air conditioners in the overcrowded bedrooms. I kept a low profile as best I could, while some ladies started tidying up in the middle of the night. As if nothing happened, those continue in the morning, followed by the preparation of incredible amounts of food. Part of it turns out to be for the spirits, who, according to their breakfast, are better cared for than the writer of this one. It has to be done and it will be all right. Waiting for the monks, transported in my washed car.

Arrived at the temple. Turns out all the monks are still doing garden maintenance after last night's storm. It takes some time to get them together. They throw an orange cloth around their shoulders, a few quickly smoke a cigarette and get in. A temple is a shelter for those who cannot make it in society and it shows.

In the house the men do their work for XNUMX minutes. The monotonous singing almost puts me in a trance. That is brought in the food and they attack before the daily eating ban takes effect. Gold stickers are applied above the room doors and the chief monk blesses brush the entrance. Of course the monks accept a financial contribution.

Then the guests may attack. It's done. Now all that's left to do is wash up, tidy up and move the furniture inside. And try to get back on track.