In those days, families would wander up and down the midway, nodding and smiling to each other and buying their kids cotton candy.  Young couples would express their affection by bumping shoulders and whispering as they walked, and a few knots of father-providers would stand under the trees talking politics and maybe passing a bottle around.

The fair we attended last week was a very different sort of event.  There were at least one hundred booths selling the same cheap clothing and house wares, but now each on has a massive stereo system and a yammering Mister Microphone.  The people at the fair were almost exclusively Burmese day laborers and teenaged punks trying to see if they could ride their motorcycles through the crowd at the same speeds they achieve on the open highway.
 

I don’t know why the temple fair has changed, but I do know that it cannot be because the old fair wasn’t making enough money for the temple.  Wat Chalong is by far the richest temple on the island, maybe the richest in the Southern provinces, visited by hundreds of tourists each day.  Nobody on the island would ever open a new business, get married, or win even the smallest lottery without making merit at Wat Chalong.  In the last three years every building on the grounds has been completely refurbished, many new buildings have been built, and the monk’s kutis all have widescreen color TVs and private bathrooms.  The images of Phuket’s three patron saints are so covered in gold leaf that you can no longer tell Po Chem from Po Chung from Po Gluam.  They don’t need to allow sex and violence within the sacred precincts in order to afford new shingles for the viharn roof.

As soon as we entered the temple grounds Mem bought Andy a red helium balloon, because at 15 months Andy is just fascinated by balloons.  He clutched its string in one fist and with a very serious expression methodically banged his new toy against his father’s head while we wandered through the crowds.