Torn between two lovers

"I'm in love with an elephant!" grins Albert, back from his weeklong elephant rescue mission among the hill tribes.  Albert is still pretty buzzy and emotional about the experience -- touching those horrifically damaged but forgiving creatures, his camaraderie with fellow volunteers, his interactions with native villagers, and especially his bonding with a frisky young pachyderm named Naughty Boy. He professes his love for this elephant more than twice.

Albert in holiday mode.

Albert is also ga-ga over a winsome Thai shopkeeper whom he met the other night in Anusan Market and with some persistence lured out on a dinner date. To hear him describe the magic evening, it sounds like the start of a profound romantic relationship ... if it weren't for the small complication that tomorrow he flies back to his real life on the other side of the planet, possibly forever.

Albert is a vigorous, enthusiastic and engaging guy, but I suspect he might secretly be fifteen years old.

Albert's return coincides with the start of Songkran, the three-day Thai new year celebration. You dress for Songkran the way you dress for a monsoon or a day at the beach, depending on how soaking-wet you care to be. On Friday afternoon we wander up Loi Kroh Road toward the party zone along the moat in search of beers and spectacle. The first day of Songkran does not disappoint.

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Albert is flying out on Saturday afternoon, so we meet up for his last lunch in Thailand. We try a brand-new place that I've watched being built for months next to the Iron Bridge over the Mae Ping River. It looks kind of fancy, but it's a farewell celebration so what the hell.

An insanely expensive river view.

The appropriately named River Market is gorgeous, the service is top notch, the food is excellent, and the bill when it arrives is jaw-dropping.

"Fifteen hundred baht," I marvel. That's more than fifty bucks for a casual lunch for three -- a couple of sushi plates, a soup, a salad, a fish course and three beers. The manager, a gregarious Dutch-sounding fellow who chats with us, says they're hoping to base their regular business not on tourists but middle-class and upscale Thai locals. Yes ... those many, many Thai one-percenters who love to blow their money on, of all things, Thai food. In a town that's stinko with amazing and inexpensive eats. I think: "Good luck with that." If this place is still in business in a year, I'll be surprised.

After we bid adieu to Albert, Lian and I walk up to Nawarat Bridge to watch the Songkran parade, a much more religious observance during which the crowds sprinkle scented water on the passing Buddhist-themed floats.  Complete with drumming!

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Sunday morning Lian and I meet our prearranged 5:45 Red Car to the Buddhist temple near Mae Jo where Lian's son, Dao, is fulfilling his child-monk service. We are toting the crepe-paper money tree that Lian has populated with donations from friends and associates, as well as nonperishable foods for the little monkettes.

I am privileged to be one of but two farang observers at what turns out to be a colorful and moving donation ceremony, complete with singing and rose petals strewn at the feet of the saffron-robed holies.

March of the money trees

Of course I look and feel like a huge, ridiculous, dimly comprehending doofus. But I'd gladly come back again because parts of it are just so awesome. And this is the video.

Laying out the food donation for hungry children-monks.