Here is a picture of the restaurant that the guys we worked with love to eat at. We preferred our guesthouse restaurant, but we found ways to make do with whatever we were given. For instance, one day we were out visiting with people in the village, and my driver said, “Now we go to death celebration.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, so I started asking some questions. I found out that Buddhist’s have a death celebration on the day the person dies, seven days later, one hundred days later, and then once a year on the anniversary of the person’s death. I was thinking that it sounded like a lot of celebration for death, and I asked my driver if the celebration was suppose to be happy or sad. He said that it is neither and that it’s just a celebration. During the celebration close family members repeated chants over and over, while we sat at a table and ate. The family kept bringing food to our table. We had very oily, cold curry with chicken feet and other chicken parts and lots of other dishes were not identifiable. Whitney and I slowly ate the noodles out of our dish. I noticed that other people would gnaw on bones and then throw the bone on the ground when they were finished. I also decided to discretely throw some things on to the ground.