Where is the party?

I travel through Myanmar. At some point during my trip I pass a house where children and women are busy making beautiful decorations with flowers.

When I get a little closer, I see that they are all making flower garlands. It looks like a cheerful situation, with laughter and noise. Yet there is also a certain form of modesty, but I might imagine that. I am curious and ask friendly and enthuisatically if there is a party. They look at me a little shy. At that moment, an old car with colorful decorations drives up. The car for the lucky one, I think. But I look again and see a coffin in the back. The flower garlands are for the coffin. There is no party here at all. There is a funeral.

The flower garlands are for the coffin. There is no party here. They are preparing for a funeral

In my world, laughing and acting cheerful is not part of a funeral. Then you are serious, you feel sad and you are quiet. By trying to match what I experienced in my thoughts into something that matched my worldview, I ended up in a strange situation. Instead of asking if there is a party, I could have asked what was going on. That would have saved me the embarrasement.