Bowling for Dollars

Thailand is a Buddhist country and therefore has many Buddhist monks. In fact, all Buddhist males are supposed to enter the monastery for at least a short while at some time during their life (including the current king and the crown prince). The monks are supposed to live a life of poverty and sacrifice and thus are forced to collect alms in order to eat. Each morning, they line up and walk through the city where devotees place food in the alms bowl that the monks are carrying at their side. The food often consists of rice, but sometimes includes fish, meat, and fruit. The alms bowl is a basketball-sized plain metal bowl, usually covered with a black lacquer.

I did not rise early enough to see the monks collecting alms, but I did read about a section of town called Ban Baht where a few families have retained the art of creating these alms bowls by hand. (Most are mass produced nowadays.) I asked a tuk-tuk driver to drop me off in the area and I began to wander along the street seeking out an artisan. I asked for directions by cupping my hands together and saying, “Baht”. This got me pointed in the right direction, after which I saw a sign for the bowls, but it was not clear where to go. A local man, seeing me wander, excitedly offered to take me to the maker, leading me through some twisting, narrow passageways off the main road. We passed by local shops and residences that were packed into this three-foot wide alley, where people were smiling at me and friendly calling out, “Sawatdee-Ka” (hello).

The man left me with a girl who showed me the bowls, but I wanted to see how they were made, so she took me through some further alleys and after several turns, we ended up at the end of the path, at someone’s home. A woman there had a hammer and a ball-shaped stand for shaping the bowls and she banged on the bowl a few times to demonstrate. I tried to ask some questions, but their English was limited and my Thai is non-existent. To compensate for the lack of communication, the husband encouraged me to sit so I could try my hand at hammering. I sat in the chair behind the stand and hammered a few times. The husband corrected my technique and every time I got it right, the family cheered.

Then the girl who had brought me back tried to tell me something. I thought she said, “Whole day”. I had heard it took a whole day to make one, so I commented on how difficult it must be. But then she pointed to the calendar and said, “Sunday – whole day.” That’s when I realized she was trying to tell me it was their day off (“whole day” = “holiday”). Feeling embarrassed, I rose, offering some “Kop Koun Ka”s (Thank yous) since it was the only other word I knew. The family returned the greeting with smiles and I followed the girl back out, promising to return the next day to buy a bowl.

I felt awful for intruding, but also honored that they welcomed me into their home on their day off. Sometimes the most heart-warming experiences are found by accident.

A little further down the street, I found the touristy bowl maker who is open every day, learned how the bowls are made, and saw a bowl maker at work. Basically, they take thin steel panels, bend them into the correct shape to form a bowl, seal the seams with copper, heat and hammer them to strengthen and shape them, and lacquer them to give them their final finish.

It was an interesting day and was capped off by dinner at a local restaurant where they make my favorite Thai dish, Penang Curry, exactly the way my favorite Thai restaurant at home makes it. (Sawatdee Thai in Arlington for those in the Washington area.)