The Walkabout describes itself as an Aussie bar, restaurant & guesthouse. It is one of a number of small bars in Jom Tien that are intended to cater to specific national groups. On the opposite side of Soi 9, Rich Man Poor Man flies the American flag, while just around the corner on the waterfront strip are places catering for Dutch nationals, Swedes and Russians.
An oasis for Australian travellers, the Walkabout offers Australian grog and – in large red print – ‘Great Aussie Tucker’. One blackboard at the front of the building advertises ‘All Day big Breakfast – eggs, 2 bacon, 2 sausages, tomatoes, baked beans, potatoe, toast, orange juice, tea or coffee’ for 150 baht. A second promises chicken with chips and sauce or mashed potatoes. An Australian flag hangs in the back left hand corner, and half way along each wall there are two large flat screen televisions, showing Australia Network programs. From the street, the Walkabout looks like a long, narrow shed – door-less yet dark.
The centrepiece of the place is a chest-high, u-shaped bar that runs from the street and extends for about three quarters of the length of the building. The sides of the bar are covered with the grey corrugated iron that is common on the roofs of old Australian houses. Spilling onto the street are bench tables and seats. But these are secondary places to sit – perhaps to eat as well as drink. The main game is at the bar.
When somebody signals that the bridal party is coming, the groom and his best man set aside their stubbies – kept cool in familiar stubbie holders – and dismount from their stools. They move to a narrow floor space that lies between the right side of the bar and the pool table, which is covered (for the occasion) in a richly patterned yellow Thai silk cloth.
The bride, resplendent in a shoulder-less, full length cream brocade and satin dress, carries a small posy of pink lilies and roses. Arm in arm with her father, she carefully makes her way 150 metres along Soi 9 from the Executive Apartments to the Walkabout. As she comes into view, her face is a study of concentrated effort to keep at bay the rising panic that is threatening to undermine her confidence.
Following the bride are two young women, one – obviously a bridesmaid – in a maroon satin dress, the other in a white blouse and black culottes, which extend to just below her knees. The bride’s mother follows, wearing a soft green multi-layered frock. And falling in behind is the groom’s daughter, a woman perhaps in her late twenties. She is carrying a ten-month old boy, the child of the bride and the groom.
Motor bikes and cars weave around the little party, as it makes its way past trolleys selling mangoes, bananas, an array of fried sweets, brown feather dusters, and miscellaneous bric a brac. The bride’s father kicks away a small plastic bag that clings to his shoe.
A pack of scrawny dogs wanders aimlessly along the soi. Closest to the Walkabout is a Dalmatian, its soft pinkish skin belying an edgy suggestion of aggressiveness.
Waiting in the Walkabout with the groom and his best man are about a dozen or so family and friends. Some of the guests are drinking mates of the groom, for whom the Walkabout is obviously a familiar haunt. Others look less at ease. All have travelled from Australia for the occasion.
The groom and his best man wear black trousers and shoes, and cream short sleeve shirts with Chinese collars (made locally for the wedding). Each wears a corsage of a single pink rose surrounded by delicate leaves and bound together by a green strip. Corsages are also distributed to guests and pinned to shirts and dresses by the bar staff. The corsages are the ingenious creation of the bride’s mother. She has bought flowers from a local street vendor, gathered greenery from the garden surrounding the pool at the Executive Apartments, borrowed scissors from the Walkabout to cut a green plastic bag into strips and pierced the corsages with safety pins.
The celebrant – a Canadian minister from the local Baptist mission a couple of kilometres along the beachfront – makes his way to the appointed position. After much anxious searching, the groom had secured his services only the day before. Smiling gently at the guests and touching them lightly on arm or shoulder as he passes, he silently signals the joyous and sacred purpose of the occasion. Almost without notice, two Thai government officials have also slipped into the bar and stand ready to register the marriage.
Passing the lingering Dalmatian, the bride and her father enter the Walkabout between two tall floral arrangements of pink and white lilies, chrysanthemums and daisies standing proud in front of long palm fronds and banana leaves, all draped in large pink satin ribbons. As the bride and her father make their way through the waiting crowd to the back of the bar, the bride’s delicate cream net veil comes into view. So too does the singlet that her father wears beneath his white shirt: it bears the words ‘Beer Chang’.
Once they reach the celebrant, the bride’s father steps back. The groom steps forward to stand beside the bride, his left arm, adorned with a dense blue tattoo, resting just below the bride’s right arm. The mother of the bride is encouraged by others to take up a position towards the front of the crowd. To the side of the couple, their baby, uncomfortable with the humid heat and the closeness of the crowd, is soothed by the groom’s daughter. Cameras click. The minister begins the ceremony, reminding us of the solemnity of the occasion. His words command respect; all fall into an attentive silence. And then strong and certain and clear, the couple exchange their vows.
Following the signing of papers, the minister’s traditional declaration of the couple as husband and wife is met with cheers and applause. Moments later a naming ceremony is held for the baby boy. The bride’s godparents, her aunt and uncle, pin St Christopher medallions on the little boy and his godparents. This is done quickly to minimise the little boy’s growing discomfort.
Within seconds, the minister departs as do the Thai Government officials, and the wedding party begins. During the ceremony, a young pig has been roasting on a spit at the front of the bar. It is now carved and placed on the pool table, along with bowls of potato salad, coleslaw and garden salad. For much of the rest of the afternoon the guests move between the bar and the pool table, stocking up on pork and then quenching their thirst, mostly with beer. The groom is back on a stool at the bar. The bride finds her place among a group of friends at a table at the front of the bar.
Various guests fuss over the baby in an attempt to cool him down. One guest, a tall African American gently washes his face, and arms and legs. Someone strips the baby of his wedding outfit. Another guest fossicks through a baby bag for a bottle of water and gives him a drink.
There are no speeches, just a continuous flow of grog, food and conversation, punctuated by temporary departures to nearby hotel rooms to change into shorts, t shirts and thongs. Eventually, even the bride decides that it is time to be released from the sweltering effects of her bridal frock.
The focus of attention in the bar shifts – an important football game is about the start. Some of the guests reappear in Dockers sleeveless purple jerseys. The TVs are turned back on, and once the game begins, the barracking is loud and robust, the volume only receding as it becomes obvious that Adelaide is pushing their beloved Freo Dockers out of a place in the next round of the finals.
The game ends. The bride and her baby return to the apartment. One by one, the guests drift away – only a few friends remain at the bar with the groom.
September, 2012
Meandering Thoughts 