“Over the next two days, Mrs. Smegma persecuted me mercilessly, while the others, I suspected, scouted evidence for her. She reproached me for not turning the light off in my room when I went out, for not putting the lid down in the toilet when I’d finished, for taking the colonel’s hot water – I’d no idea he had his own” Bill Bryson Notes from a Small Island

I woke early with a mission to get mum and myself breakfast before moving to the resort that the wedding was to be held at. I decided that delivery was the go and that exploring the local McDonalds menu might be fun. Sure enough the usual offerings were supplemented with more unusual fare. Corn pies, McChicken Porridge and Patongko Fried Bread were some of the more unusual items on offer.  We feasted on Sausage McMuffins, Corn Pie, Patongko and hash browns. We then packed up and headed downstairs to check out.

After handing back our swipe cards we sat in reception chatting. Then all of a sudden, the man from reception strode out from the lift holding a white sheet gathered up like a giant rose with a single brown skid mark at its centre. I was called over and told I had broken the rules by staining the hotel’s property and I was to be fined a penalty. On the whole I am hard to embarrass so I took it in my stride. They wanted cash but partly out of spite I insisted on paying by credit card which seemed to disappoint them. The offending item was then left on the reception counter brown mark up for 15 minutes as we waited for our Grab ride to appear. It was you understand, a warning to the rest of them.

We moved outside as our ride approached, and then watched it sail past us down the road and then the app informed us our ride had been cancelled. In my opinion the ride share apps here are terrible. We instead entered into a quick negotiation with a red truck and soon were on our way. After a few blocks the driver pulled over and Toby was called to the cab to act as navigator.

Soon we were flying through the edges of the city, a mixture of small farm holdings and large dusty green spaces lined our path. A brief trip on a motorway and then we were driving down a long narrow driveway past attentive security guards and we were there.
It was immediately apparent that we had left the city. Doves cooed giving the place a aristocratic pastoral air. Upon entering the hotel, it was clear we were in a pretty serious joint. Large stone columns, solid wood awnings, central trees and bubbling water features gave the place an ambience somewhere between a Roman palace and a desert oasis. From our vantage point green verdant lawns dropped down to the Ping River.

We were served an aromatic Thai tea as we filled in the forms and had our passports checked.

The reason for our trip to Thailand was the marriage of my cousin Ben to Gyneth a woman of Hong Kong and English ethnicity.  Thailand was seen as a meeting in the middle location for the various friends and family from around the world. The wedding was a mixture of traditional Chinese, Christian and contemporary ritual.

The first, of the day before the wedding activities, was what they call Door Games. A set of tasks that Ben had to pass in order to prove to Gwyneth’s wedding party that he was fit marry her. Questions about her past, writing challenges, music challenges proceeded. When Ben lost questions, he and sometimes his groomsmen had to suffer penalties by taking shots of vodka, fish sauce, grenadine, and chili sauce. Ben carried himself well.

Next on the list was a traditional Chinese tea ceremony where the elders of each family are served tea by the couple and in return are given advice and red envelopes with gifts for their future. As Ben’s oldest Moore side cousin I was considered an elder so mum and I sat and were served tea, I thanked them for including us, wished them luck for the future and passed an envelope containing pounds.

After that we were bused into the old town for a fusion Thai lunch hosted by Gyneth’s parents. Course after course of modern Thai food came out. Then we walked the old town for a while before managing to hail a red truck down and returning to the resort.

We were shown to our rooms which were frankly so far above my paygrade that they operated in a different atmosphere altogether. We had originally been told that Toby and I were to share a bed, and this sparked an ongoing misunderstanding with the Thai staff as to my gender.  It had become clear that there were daybeds in the rooms that were perfectly suited to sleeping so we weren’t too worried. In the end the resort whistled up a twin room with adjoining doors to the king bedroom mum was assigned. The two rooms together had a footprint greater than my house!

I couldn’t resist the massive bath, so I took the opportunity to recreate the Jacques-Louis David painting Death of Marat.

We ended the night on the deck above the river with beers before sleep took me down, a man penalised and rebuked, but in all ways important, unscarred.