I was in Chiang Mai when the King’s sister died. She was greatly loved by the Thai people, or at least by the King. Or as Noom, my bar boy friend and love of my life put it, “Da Thai people lub da King”. (Leaving me to figure out that by extension that includes his sister). I don’t know how I became aware that she had died. I don’t really keep up with the news when I’m on holiday. I don’t read Thai newspapers. I may occasionally tune into CNN to make sure the world hasn’t ended, but then CNN wouldn’t be reporting on the death of minor royalty. I do know I took a picture in Chiang Mai of some governmental building’s compound fence draped in black in respect to her passing. And I was aware that she’d died before heading back to Bangkok and to Noom.

Like most Thai bar bois, Noom loves watching TV, or at least having the TV on. He prefers the Thai language stations. They give me a headache. He tunes into the news often. I never have a clue as to what they are reporting, but he’s fine with trying to translate for me. The death was a solemn occasion for the Thai people. All the newscasters were dressed in black and there were frequent film clip homages to the lady for days. So I heard a lot of, “Da Thai people lub da King” interspersed with “Da King sissah lub da Thai people”. I think that’s when I figured out who had died.

Some touri in Thailand may be a bit better about keeping in touch with world events than I. I have no doubt a whole slew of them knew about her death before it sunk into the languorous haze that passes for consciousness when I’m on holiday in Bangkok. It was in the English language papers if I’d bothered to pick one up. Fine. But even in my ignorance I still trumped the touri masses, because I had Noom.

Her funeral didn’t take place for close to a year later. And then there was a big brouhaha over the King having a seven tiered umbrella placed over the casket (which is strictly reserved for a dead king and maybe major monks). But that was all fun to come. For now, reverence needed to be paid, and a nation’s loss mourned. I got the first inkling that’d her death would become part of my holiday when Noom insisted we go to MBK, a large Bangkok shopping center favored by locals and touri alike, to buy him a black shirt. When the King’s sister dies, you have to wear a black shirt. This makes sense as the Thais have a shirt color scheme for each day of the week as well as for political party affiliation.

Taking the BTS to MBK we cut through Tokyu’s, the Japanese Department store. I eyed suitable black dress shirts for him while mulling over in my mind how hot he looks in black and how seldom he likes wearing the color. Not that I have a one-track mind. But, as usual, he had other plans. So out into the mall and up the escalators to the 6th floor and the 99 baht T shirt stands. I love watching him make decisions when he shops. His forehead scunches up as he mentally weighs the pros and cons of whatever it is he’s pawing through. And I just stand back and stare at his ass. Oh, guess I do have a one-track mind.

He picked out a black T with a graphic of a guy holding a gun to a woman’s head superimposed over the word ‘Bitch”. OK. I explained to him that the shirt maybe was inappropriate for the occasion and made sure he knew the English word bitch and what it meant. But I guess the color black over ruled, and he stuck with his choice. And then picked out two more T’s, not black. They were cheap and he knew I’d have no problem buying them for him. We had dinner, probably spent the night in some bar, and then back to the hotel and another night of him wrapping himself around me as we slept. That’s why I love Thailand.

Normally, what we do during the day is up to me. Typical Thai confrontation avoidance. But the next morning he awoke with purpose. Not that I could make any sense out of what his purpose was. But no problemo. After breakfast, wearing his respectful black King dead sister T shirt he hailed down a taxi and off we sped to points unknown.

The English language newspapers might not have bothered to inform anyone of what was up, but the Thai language TV news had. There was to be a memorial exhibition at The Ananda Samakhon Throne Hall on the grounds of The Dusit Palace. Maybe the touri missed it, but the city’s denizens sure didn’t. There were thousands of Thais, all wearing black, lined up to make their way thru the memorial. It took us close to two hours to get inside and when we did it was so packed with bodies that you had no choice but to shuffle along with the herd. And there wasn’t another white face to be seen.

Evidently, whenever there is a major event in the life of the royal family, in celebration a piece of art is commissioned. These are primarily sculptures made of gold and precious jewels. Of various sizes, the majority being table top size, only a few artists work on each piece and it can take months of their time to finish. Incredibly detailed, even if they weren’t made of precious metal and gems they’d still be as extraordinary. Picture taking was not allowed. A shame because I could never come close to describing how beautiful each piece was. There were also a few pieces, including a set of enormous chandeliers, made from a native beetle whose wings are an iridescence neon green. The hanging lamps each featured over 500,000 of these wings. Lots of intricately carved wood panels too, each detailing a moment in Thailand’s history.

You’d think that with that much wealth on display there would have been lots of armed guards around and everything would be under glass. But no, with the exception of a few docents moving people along there were no guards, and all of the displays could easily be touched. Didn’t notice anyone doing so though and I can only assume that was out of a sign of respect for the King. Or his dead sister.

None of these pieces are displayed to the public except at the birth or death of a royal family member. (In fact the throne hall is only open to the public on special holidays) After the art work, there was a large room of tables with hundreds of guest books laid out so that each visitor could write a special message to the King. Watching the many barely literate Thais carefully composing and printing out their messages was quite an emotional spectacle. Then, this being Thailand, there was of course a major souvenir stand to pass through before being deposited by the crowds outside once again.

Outside, since Noom declared, “I pee pee”, I got to witness another Thai oddity. The bathroom bus. They don’t do port-a-potties at events with large crowds. Instead they pull in one or more old school buses, the interiors lined with piss and shit holes. Quite rank, not air conditioned, leaking like sieves. I thanked Buddha that my bladder was empty. There are some things you just don’t have to experience to experience. Know what I mean?

If it wasn’t for Noom I certainly would not have know about this event as it was obvious few other Westeners did since I didn’t see any during the four hours we spent at the exhibition. I doubt even hanging with a bar boi d’jour would have been enough to have been included on what was a Thai focused event. There is a definite plus to being in a relationship with a local.

I just hope that when the next Royal dies in Thailand I can convince Noom not to wear his black Bitch T-shirt.

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