A Christmas story from Isaan….

I don't know if it had been a Holy Night, but it certainly wasn't a Silent Night... Now that the rice harvest is over, most of the men in the village amuse themselves with flying kites and making kites.

In itself there is nothing wrong with these products of home industry were it not for the fact that my creative neighbors apparently take pleasure in equipping these, sometimes very ingenious constructions, with windpipes so that they produce sound in addition to speed.

It is usually nightfall when, accompanied by their jeering offspring and loudly criticizing each other's ingenuity, they hit the towpath next to the Mun River. For some reason the wind is up Ban Farang always just a little more favorable than elsewhere in the wider area because invariably these howling, screaming and gurgling rigs are anchored in such a way that they hang right above Lung Jan's house all night long…

It was therefore not really surprising that a sleep-drunk Lung Jan stared with small eyes at his reflection in the bathroom that Christmas morning. A few more years and his beard would be as white as Santa's. He had gray hair for a long time anyway, married to a Thai, you know….

The shepherds had not spent the night in the field, but Sam, the shaggy Catalan sheepdog of the house, had. Wagging his tail, he came to welcome his owner, ready for a new day full of exciting adventures. Santa had not only brought him a treat, a large bite-sized portion Kai Yang but on top of that, he got a loud squeaking dinosaur as a brand new toy to his great pleasure. Lung Jan wondered how long it would take before Dino Piep would be torn to shreds… Even when Lung Jan's dear wife, who had already left for the early market at three in the morning, returned home a little later, she found a small but nice gift . With this, Lung Jan had fulfilled what the Thais considered the essence of the Christmas event, to the satisfaction of his housemates. Christmas Day couldn't get any worse. Especially when Sam started to make it clear with some barking insistence that he was up for a brisk morning walk. The boots on the terrace have been turned around as a precaution, so as not to accidentally bump into a scorpion or snake that had spent the night in a laced leather house and move on with the goat, sorry dog ​​...

In the background were already the Jingle Bells of the party. As usual, the monks in the brand new Wat on the other side of the Mun had already started at dawn with their bells, bells and singing bowls. Lung Jan's sensitive ears had become accustomed to this morning ritual, but he might never describe this cacophony as heavenly, as some of his neighbors did...

Christmas had never really been Lung Jan's thing. As a young boy he gave up on Midnight Mass after one or two occasions and decorating a fir tree was certainly not his thing: the fragile Christmas baubles died by the dozen and he could miss stinging pine needles like a toothache. Once he got to the years of wits he had become a pagan and thought it was actually quite funny that the pagan Midwinter or Yule Feast was so indelibly engrained in the collective memory that the missionaries eventually had to'Christianize'.

After Sam got his money's worth, a peaceful atmosphere descended on Lung Jan's home. With a good book at hand (perhaps Dickens) and some subdued music in the background, most of the rest of the day was spent in absolute idleness on the sofa. The bow shouldn't always be tense, should it? One of the fresh snowy mountain peaks of the Pyrenees dreaming and loudly snoring dog at the feet and a lovely wife at the side who has been telephoning equally loudly for hours. Only a crackling fireplace was missing to complete the picture, but no one really needed that, with an outside temperature of 34 degrees Celsius…

At nightfall, Lung Jan started Christmas dinner. Mrs. Lung Jan, who liked to be pampered on an evening like this, had opted for an eclectic mix of Eastern and Western cuisine. What dim sum en tod man pla, delicious Thai fish cakes, as a starter and salmon in mojo sauce and grilled garlic prawns with lemon and parsley were the main course. The fact that a few relatives and neighbors, perhaps lured by the nice smells, had joined us in the meantime, did not spoil the fun. Quickly conjured up a large pot of seafood curry with coconut milk and Kees was ready... Fortunately, Lung Jan had a large stock of his famous lime-mango mousse on hand and a generous portion of baked pineapple with caster sugar and coconut was ready in no time so that the Christmas dinner concluded to everyone's satisfaction.

Just before he dozed off, he thought in the distance 'O Pine Tree' to hear. Verhip, a Christmas caroler he thought… Turned out to be the slightly tipsy neighbor across the street who, stimulated by a good dose Lao Khao, loudly thought he had to give a very personal interpretation of Carabao's monster hit Wanipok. The equally loud and imaginatively swearing response of his half wedding book, followed by the sound of clattering and falling household goods, was about the last Lung Jan heard before he left for Dreamland with 'Peace on earth to all men of good will' as a last, slumbering thought…

Oh yes, the Three Kings with their gifts may have gotten lost on their way to Isan. The distance between Bangkok and the Northeast is often still unbridgeable… However, they had found a worthy replacement in the figure of the self-satisfied and self-proclaimed prime minister of this proud nation. A few days ago he had delighted all the over-65s in the village with the happy announcement that they would all receive a one-off check for 1.000 baht. Would there still be – finally – elections in Thailand coming up…? Soon Lung Jan would start believing in Sinterklaas…