For the past three weeks I have been waking up to the sound of roosters, many of which sneakily start warming up their vocal chords well before dawn. With this evidence you don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that I have been in the Northeast of Thailand, or Isan. It has become a regular destination at the New Year and with the exception of the early morning calls from the chickens, it is always a pleasurable experience.
The locals seem oblivious of the rowdy roosters. For them it's all part of the regular rural soundtrack. I admit even feeling guilty complaining about the roosters considering one of my favourite Rolling Stones numbers is "Little Red Rooster", although the lyrics are not actually about noisy chickens.
As usual we took a number of side-trips from our place amongst the rubber trees in northern-most Chaiyaphum. I'm pleased to say that in addition to roosters I had close encounters with other farm animals which included joining kids feeding goats, sheep and miniature horses on the outskirts of Khon Kaen.
Back in Chaiyaphum for New Year's Eve, it was not as cold as previous years, but still chilly enough for a sweater. I was also given a cute woolen hat with a bobble to keep my head warm. I looked quite ridiculous, but that's nothing new.
At midnight farmers let off a few celebratory fireworks, after which it quickly went back to the normal night sounds of rural Isan -- the chattering of monkeys, occasional hoots of owls, a chorus of pond life and the constant clicking noise of cicadas.
Don't bat an eye
New Year's Day featured a pleasant excursion to Phu Pha Man, one of the lesser-known national parks, tucked in the extreme northwest of Khon Kaen and stretching into Loei province.
The weather was perfect and we enjoyed refreshments in the not too hot afternoon sunshine with a towering limestone cliff as a most impressive backdrop. Not surprisingly the place attracted plenty of local tourists and it was a non-stop fashion show with the teenagers not shy in showing off their attractive New Year outfits… it was a selfie paradise.
As we left at dusk, we were fortunate enough to witness thousands upon thousands of bats zooming across the sky at great speed from Tham Klang Kao, otherwise known as the "Bat Cave". It was a most extraordinary sight and their trail extended across the sky for kilometres. These khang kao really know how to put on a show. I half expected to see Batman come roaring out of the cave behind them aboard his batmobile.
Tongue tied
I also experienced the toughest piece of meat I have ever come across, which is saying something considering all the chewy Isan dishes I have munched over the years. At a friend's residence the lady of the house gave me a plate of what looked like beef slices with the usual tasty hot sauce dip. She assured me it was "aroi mahk". After 10 minutes I was still chewing the first piece and making very little progress… and there was a whole plateful sitting there waiting to be consumed. My immediate concern was how to dispose of the chewy meat in my mouth without offending the hosts.
Fortunately, they had a large friendly dog "Yao" who came to the rescue. The hound somehow sensed my plight and sat close by, eagerly pouncing on the bits of half-chewed meat I was surreptitiously dropping on the floor. I later discovered the meat was actually buffalo tongue, a delicacy in the Northeast. It was not the first time I have unwittingly consumed buffalo, but that was definitely the toughest. And silly though it might sound, I felt sorry for the poor old khwai.
Celebration time
It doesn't matter where you go in Thailand, despite the Buddhist culture it's hard to escape Christmas. Thai people have a wonderful capacity to celebrate anything as long as it's good fun. I received a quick reminder of this in Chaiyaphum where a friendly monk greeted me with a joyful "Melly Klissamass".
Throughout Isan there were regular sightings of Santa hats, waitresses sporting reindeer antlers and rabbit ears and of course the much beloved "Jinger Ben" song which was going strong in all the provincial shopping centres. And I swear I heard the strains of "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" in an Udon mall.
Old and new
The last time I celebrated New Year in England was back in the 1990s on a visit to my home town of Reading. I was staying with my Auntie Babs, a lovely lady who was in her 80s. We shared a little toast to absent friends at midnight and then she disappeared. I suddenly felt a really cold draft sweep through the room.
I walked into the kitchen and was alarmed to find the back door wide open and no sign of auntie. I was about to close it when she reappeared. "Don't shut the door, I'm letting the New Year in," she explained, before scurrying down the hallway to open the front door and let the Old Year out.
She told me she had performed that tradition for more than 60 years since she was a little girl back in the 1920s. I wonder if people in the United Kingdom still do that?
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