If the boys want to fight, you better let 'em

Baker Pete, meat man Tom.

A wood-burning brick pizza oven is not something you normally see in northern Thailand, but Ricardo has acquired one from God-knows-where and is eager to try it out. And so, on Sunday evening the beer-drinking cohort that hangs most nights outside the Buddy Mart will gather at Ricardo's house for homemade pies. Pete the baker will create the dough, Tom the sausage guy will bring meats and sauce, and everyone else will chip in for beverages. It'll be fun!

Around 5 on Sunday, hoping I'm not late, I pedal three blocks over to the demolition project that is Ricardo's house. Ricardo, a chain-smoking Swiss bear of a man, is tearing out his front porch and concrete rubble is strewn everywhere. The afternoon got away from him and nothing is ready for outdoor pizza-making: no prep table, no place for diners to sit. Worse, there's no fire in the pizza oven, which takes hours for the bricks to fully heat. Ricardo is pacing to and fro through the devastation, muttering unintelligibly, cigarette smoke trailing him everywhere. I get the impression that he has no idea what to do.

Ricardo: he didn't start the fire.

Pete arrives shortly and throws a conniption when he realizes that nothing has been set out for him to make dough. After a tense exchange with Ricardo, the baker gathers what he needs and sets to work assembling flour, water, salt and yeast. But the dough needs time to rise, and the brick oven remains cold. Pizza is not happening anytime soon.

More mates trickle in and we extricate tables and chairs from inside Ricardo's dronestruck-looking house. Tom shows up with sausage, marinara and mozzarella from his shop; a few other goobers bring beer (for themselves) and appetites.

Finally, about the time we should be pulling pies out of the oven, Ricardo goes to start the fire ... or not. He tries and tries but keeps killing it. Now it is getting dark and few guys shake their heads and leave. The pizza party has dwindled to five of us and tempers are the only things burning.

"Jeez, Ricardo!" hollers Tom, gnashing his cigar. "If you'd been in charge of the ovens in Germany, six million Jews would still be alive!" And then a flare-up between Ricardo and Pete threatens to escalate into a full-on Old Man Fight. Could this evening get more awesome?

 At last the charcoal is ignited (by Tom) and we assemble our pies. But now we have a practical problem: the firebox is full of embers, leaving no place to set the pizzas. Ricardo neglected to make room for a pizza stone. Our half-assed solution is to cook the pizzas on a baking sheet laid directly on the fire. We throw in a test pie fully expecting to pull out a monstrosity, nuked on the bottom and raw everywhere else.

But you know what? The resulting pie is ... perfect! And so are the next six we bake. Thin, crispy, delicious. Suddenly all is forgiven: we congratulate Ricardo for a masterful pizza party "in spite of everything." And the moment the last slice is gone, everyone gets the hell out of there. We'll see if Ricardo can talk anyone into another pizza night anytime soon.

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Thai people love their king with the most heartfelt reverence. In honor of his birthday on Friday, everyone turns out wearing yellow, His Majesty's favorite color. Even at home.

Flying the colors while watching the king's birthday festivities.

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Families in northern Thailand make good use of the dry season and no one in our neighborhood is shy about airing their laundry in the afternoon "big sun." Even the big fancy houses around the corner set their unmentionables out front to dry.