Day of the Dead

The day of the dead came early this year - at least here it did. I am told it is supposed to be on April 5th.

I came home from work, and they were busy building this house.

Such a beautiful little house, all made of paper. There was even furniture, which was carefully placed inside, piece by piece. And lots of paper bags and big pink parcels, also placed inside. Then little scraps of paper were scattered in and around the house. A number of piles of paper had already been burnt at spots around the house. They carried on and fussed so - someone would put a parcel down here, and then someone else would pick it up and put it somewhere else, then then another person would come along and pick it up and put it down a few times. And they walked round and round and in and out of the house checking everything and adding more sticky-tape here and there.

Finally it was time - well, it was almost dark. The Buddhist monks came out - there were about eight of them - and loaded their bits and pieces into their expensive-looking car and motorbikes. Then they played their music, fireworks were let off, and the house was lit.

It only took a few minutes to reduce the whole flimsy structure to a pile of ashes. By then the monks were in their vehicles and away, leaving the happy family to clean up ... assured that their dead rellies had lots of new gifts ...