Monks Marching

Wat Chedi Luang

It is pick-any-day-of-the-week, and therefore a Thai Buddhist ritual is happening somewhere in Chiang Mai. On my first day back in town I accompany Lian to Wat Chedi Luang, the ancient and immense temple in the heart of the old city, for some kind of robe-upgrade ceremony for child monks. I am thrilled to attend because, hey, free buffet!

Children-monks receive their new colors.

By noon hundreds of the faithful are gathered on the temple grounds to watch their freshly shorn little dears receive spanking-new saffron robes. After strafing the food tables Lian and I take our seats under a huge outdoor canopy. Soon the temple assistants drop sets of neatly folded robes in our laps. Moments later, the white-clad youngsters file in and kneel before us, palms pressed together in respect. I feel a little sorry for the kid in front of me who's stuck getting his new duds from some big goofus farang. The prayers drone on and this nervous boy and I really don't know where to look, other than down. Finally the children-monks are allowed to go change into their new robes while the audience moves inside to sit cramped and cross-legged on the granite floor of the temple. It's time for the requisite chanting -- the Buddhist version of the sermon with the supper.

Ice cream social.

It turns out that the young monk on lead vocals is ... pretty good! He mixes up the usual droning monotone with some thin but confident falsetto riffs that sound strangely familiar. And then I place it.

These things creep me out.

"This guy is absolutely a Dave Matthews fan," I whisper to Lian, who has no idea what I'm talking about. At least he sounds kind of Dave-ish to me. What would you say?