This ritual complete, Khun Malai announced it was time for our final test. “Now performance and questions. You must dance telling story, then explain meaning of each key position. Both parts must be correct.”
“Both parts?” Ray looked alarmed. “We have to explain it too?”
“Culture Crash,” I reminded him. “It’s not just about doing the movements, but understanding why.”
It was frustrating to watch the models and the sorority girls finish ahead of us, but we soldiered on. Eventually Khun Malai clapped her hands. “Now full routine, start to finish. Must be perfect in movement and meaning!”
We took our positions side by side, the mirrors reflecting our bejeweled and bedecked figures back at us. The assistant started the music—a haunting melody played on traditional Thai instruments that seemed to hang in the air like the humidity.
Ray caught my eye in the mirror and winked. “Follow your lead, babe.”
We moved through the routine, my body finding the rhythm naturally while Ray concentrated intensely on each step. When he faltered on a particularly complicated hand gesture, Iwhispered a quick reminder: “Flower blooming, representing hope—remember?”
The three minutes felt both eternal and fleeting. When the music ended, we held our final pose, both of us sweating beneath the heavy costumes. Khun Malai studied us critically, walking a slow circle around our frozen forms.
“Now, what meaning of this position?” She pointed to Ray’s hand configuration.
Ray hesitated for only a moment. “This represents Hanuman’s loyalty—the monkey god who serves without question.”
She nodded and turned to me. “And this movement, with turn and arm sweep?”
“It symbolizes the crossing of boundaries,” I answered. “How love transcends separation and distance.”
She continued questioning us, probing our understanding of each significant gesture and its cultural meaning. Ray surprised me with his grasp of the symbolism, clearly having absorbed more than I’d given him credit for.
I noticed that Cody was filming her speech, rather than our reactions. “Not perfect,” she pronounced finally, and my heart sank. “But you understand spirit of dance and its meaning to Thai people. You respect our traditions. This is acceptable for farang. You pass.”
She handed us the next direction card but cautioned us not to open it until we were outside. Then she sent us to the changing area and we struggled to get out of the fancy clothes and back into our own. “That was kind of fun,” I said, my fingers fumbling with relief as I removed the golden crown.
“Speak for yourself,” Ray said, but he was smiling. “Though you did look pretty hot in that outfit. All royal and commanding.”
“You didn’t look so bad yourself,” I replied, feeling a flush of pleasure at the compliment. “Very regal, once you stopped tripping over your feet.”
“Maybe we should take dance lessons when we get home,” he suggested, handing his costume to the waiting assistant. “Something less complicated, though. Salsa? Ballroom?”
“I’d like that,” I said, surprised by how much I meant it. “As long as you’re ready for me to lead sometimes.”
“After today’s performance?” Ray tapped the clue envelope against his palm. “Babe, you can lead any time you want.”
We rushed out of the dance school and back into Bangkok’s chaotic streets, my body still humming with the music’s rhythm. Ray squeezed my hand as we ran, and I realized the dance lesson had shifted something between us—a small rebalancing of our dynamics, a reminder that we each had hidden talents the other had yet to discover.
“By the way,” Ray said as we rushed out, accompanied by Cody. “You never mentioned those college dance parties before. Any other secrets I should know about?”
I grinned. “A few. But we’ve got a race to finish first.”
Chapter 30
The Temple of Dawn
The late afternoon heat hit us like a wall, the humidity so thick it felt like breathing through a wet cloth. Ray ripped open the envelope and read. “Make your way to the Wat Arun temple. Warning: the last team may be eliminated.”
“It’s on the opposite side of the Chao Phraya,” I said.
Ray nodded, adjusting his backpack straps. “Think we should risk the Bangkok traffic in a taxi or try the river ferry?”
“The ferry,” I decided, remembering my research. “Traffic is unpredictable, but the express boats run on schedule. Plus they’ll take us right to the temple pier.”
We spotted a tuk-tuk and frantically waved it down. The driver’s face lit up at the sight of our race gear, clearly recognizing us from the day’s filming.
