More on Chiang Mai's Charms

Nice to live in a place where

Sunflowers stand tall in the middle of town

Library entrance evokes botanic gardens

Rice fields flourish on the edge of town

Weird "Buddha's Hand" fruit grows alongside the hiking trail

Classic Celebration in the South

Once upon a time there lived seven half-bird, half-woman creatures known as kinnaree. Because they were gorgeous, and excelled at cheery singing and dancing, they became tempting targets for hunters. These hunters prowled the forests in search of wives suitable for handsome princes. Ordinarily the harmonized movements of the kinnaree kept them safe from capture, but Pran Boon, the most famous hunter of all, was able to lasso one of the kinnaree with a magic noose he borrowed from the Naga of Chompoo Chit.

So begins the story behind a traditional southern Thai classical dance known as the Manora. People sponsoring events in the South sometimes hire a troupe of young flexible dancers to bend, leap, and twist their way through a performance. This morning in Thung Song district, Nakhon Si Thammarat province, a merit-making ceremony in memory of two parents provided the excuse to put on the Manora. The parents in question were the father- and mother-in-law of Jip’s older brother. I went along to the ceremony—as is so often the case here—honored to be invited but without many clues about what would happen.

My first surprise was the size of the gathering. I knew that many neighbors would be going to the temple in the morning anyway, because the family had decided to hold this rite on the same day as a Buddhist holiday. What I didn’t expect was a standing-room-only crowd, including several local politicians, at 7 in the morning. It seems that the parents had been well known, having had some success with the two major local products, rubber and fruit.

The performance was also a big draw. People had arrived early to get a good seat. I was told that the dancers came from quite a distance away. Their reputation for discipline and professionalism preceded them. Carrying their impressive costumes from a pickup truck to a makeshift dressing room behind the temple, they looked casual and a little detached, in the way that teenagers will when they know they are good at something.

A trio of musicians began warming up. The steady backbeat of conversation among the spectators faded to nearly nothing, replaced by the sound of cymbal and drum. Suddenly, a solo spurted from an oboe-like instrument, silencing the crowd completely. Out of a small door at the back of the open-air wat, seven kinnaree swooped into the room. We all stared first at their wings, which appeared to be weighty enough to pull them over backward.

As if anticipating our fears, the creatures arched into rainbows, gymnastically pointing their bellies at the ceiling while both their tails and the tips of their pointed headdresses rested lightly on the floor of the temple. They held these poses for several moments. Then they somehow straightened up again without using their hands, which were tipped with curved fingernails several centimeters long.

Manora, the captured kinnaree, married Prince Suthon. Her wings were taken from her. The couple lived happily until the day the prince was called into battle. Jealous court advisers told the prince’s father that to ensure victory, it would be necessary to sacrifice his daughter-in-law to the gods. Manora agreed to the idea, requesting only that she be allowed to perform a final dance for her husband’s parents, wearing her full costume. She performed gracefully for a few minutes, but then took a few running steps, unfolded her wings, and flew back to the land of her sisters.

We all applauded. I thought the show was over. But soon the hunter reappeared on stage, flanked by two other men in sparkly attire, each holding a microphone. This ensemble, accompanied brilliantly by the oboe, set about teasing the VIPs in the front row. I quickly understood that the only way for a targeted politician to stop the good-natured ridicule was to stand, smile, and slip a large bill into a pocket of the hunter’s outfit. The audience, knowing the drill well, hooted each time.

Food, photo opportunities, and more laughter concluded the morning. An elderly aunt represented the parents’ generation with suitable seriousness. Everything ended happily, just as in the story of Manora, who was reunited with her loyal prince after his long quest to find the land of the bird people… a dance for another day.

Road Trip

Aung San Suu Kyi just wrapped up her first trip outside Myanmar in 24 years. For most of that time she was under house arrest; when she wasn’t, she worried that she wouldn’t be let back in if she left. For her latest look at the outside world she traveled next door to Thailand. The bulk of her six-day journey was spent visiting Burmese refugees and migrant workers here. Most estimates suggest that the number of paperless people from Burma living in Thailand is over two million.

At a Bangkok forum on the economics of the region, she stole the show with a frank assessment of the investment prospects in Myanmar. She was wise and graceful, generating lots of goodwill, even as she bluntly told investors that for now her pariah country needs education and institutions lots more than it needs business.

Reform in Myanmar remains quite delicate, as democratization is bound to be anywhere people are used to solving disputes by pulling rank. Add in a ton of ethnic diversity, and a tidal wave of new outside experts who are suddenly swamping the country with their advice, and you get a spicy stew. As The Lady noted, “I sometimes feel that people are too optimistic about the scene in Burma. You have to remember that the democratization process in Burma is not irreversible.”

ASSK travels again on June 13. Among other places in Europe, she heads to Oslo, where she’ll formally accept the Nobel Peace Prize she was awarded in 1991.