Is That A Weed Whacker In Your Face Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

Despite its gentle-sounding name, the Vegetarian Festival of southern Thailand requires both nerves of steel and a strong stomach. We've been able to glean that the celebration is a kind of Lent for folks of Chinese descent, where for 10 days people give up meat, dress in white, make offerings at the temples and participate in various processions. The most famous part is the self-mortification, where in the process of purifying themselves people will slice their tongues with large knives or hack at their backs with axes, among other things (see below).

Nathan and I arrived in Trang on a Friday afternoon, which gave us time to sip real coffee in a coffee shop and sample the culinary wonders of the night market - any combination of deep fried, sweet, and savory. By pure chance it was also the day before the main procession in town, hence the yellow and red banners lining the streets. Restaurants were flying yellow flags to indicate that they were serving vegetarian food, and the clothing stores had racks of white togs, occasionally decorated with red Chinese characters or dragons.

Saturday morning we walked around the corner past tables set up with fruit, water, and incense to join the local throngs awaiting the parade. Nobody seemed to mind that we weren't wearing white. A couple falang in the midst drew little attention compared to the approaching excitement. First came the dignitaries with large red banners and megaphones, then some appropriately confused-looking children dressed up in Chinese costumes. They were followed by teams of young men hoisting pagoda-style shrines on their shoulders, and then the fireworks started going off. Part of the game seemed to be shaking the shrine directly below the explosions, and soon the street was a riotous war zone of smoke, noise, and fluttering red paper.

Then through the smoke I could make out another group of men, also with a shrine, except this one was supported by metal rods stuck through their mouths. I was suddenly very glad that I hadn't eaten breakfast yet. There were other teams like this, then individuals with rods, skewers, or spears through their cheeks. The bike tire was bad enough, but I nearly crawled out of my skin when the guy with the weed whacker threaded through his face walked by. He was followed by a musical trio: saxophone, trumpet, and tuba. I haven't a clue how they got them where they were, much less how they walked around like that for the hours the parade wound its way through the city.

The procession went on and on. Just when you thought it was done another team came around the corner, dripping blood and sweat, stopping at the tables of offerings to confer their blessings. When the women with brooms finally came through to sweep up the red paper littering the streets, Nathan turned to me and asked, "So, is it time to find fried rice yet?"