Bemused in Bangkok

Learning to Live for the Moment

We've moseyed down to the beach near Hua Hin for the long weekend. It's the King of Thailand's Birthday and along with that Father's Day. I've got too much work to do it's true but one of the points of this new transition was to have more time to do nothing. Nothing is hard to adjust to however, wanting to be a better man I'll try and Meow has cleverly gotten Cody to chant "let's go talay". Talay means beach in Thai – he's bilingual now but some words get stuck on one side of the fence or the other. I get the point none the less. And here we are.

On Saturday we drive down the coast until we hit Cha-am looking for a good spots for kids and dogs spiced with Thai food and vibes. We find a long stretch of umbrellas and beach chairs and settle into what looks like a promising spot for doing nothing.

Next to us a group of young twenty-something sit in their beach chairs around the table of snack, soda and beer. One lanky boy with hair down over his eyes opens the door to the pick-up parked next to them and cranks up some music. I stare apprehensively at the six speakers in the car door. This can't work out well. Then out of the blue comes a song from the far past and I ponder on how it landed here.

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, live for today

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, live for today

And don't worry 'bout tomorrow, hey, hey, hey

The moment, juxtaposition of time and space – all things are possible. Even enjoying full volume music I'm sure they can hear all the way back in and over the din of Bangkok. Soon enough the melodic rhymes of yesteryear are replaced by the ubiquities hip-hop rap rant that's only made marginally more interesting by being in Thai but soon enough it's switched to English and an endless chorus of fuck and motherfucker – powerful words wasted in a useless attempt to be powerful – much less interesting. It's time to pack up and move on.

Just a bit down the road in a similar beach chair, under a similar umbrella some delicious food shows up and I crack open my first novel in the past six months; what is supposed to be the quintessential western-boy-meets-Thai-girl book; Woman of Bangkok. Out of print I tracked it down on Amazon – spending a fortune to get my paws on the twenty+ year-old paperback with yellowed pages where I first see ".75" penciled in on the first cover page. Well I guess in dreary secondhand bookstore in Youngstown that might be about right. Cost a bit more to get it here.

The delight of a good novel, the sound of kids and surf in the background, a beer and good Thai music in the distance work their magic.

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, live for today

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, live for today

And don't worry 'bout tomorrow, hey, hey, hey

Auspicious Date

Here’s what the paper looks like from the monk with his calculations that got us to the special for us day of November 18, 2006. (click picture to enlarge)

You can see in the upper right, inside the box the number 18.  He did that for me - used the western numbers.  Under that is the date in the Thai number symbols for 18.   The next writting after that is in Thai for the month of November: prut-sa-ji-gaa-yon.  The lastly is the year in the Thai solar calendar, Suriyakati, again with the Thai numbers. The current Thai year is 2550. 

So now you know what it looks like.

King of Hearts

Coming home on the elevated train that runs through Bangkok, at least the some of Bangkok that conveniently includes my home and work, there was a video playing. The video was typical of what you see here – a tribute to the King that shows pictures of Thais, mostly out in the country, doing their work, helping each other and living the simple life of the village with a famous Thai smile. It's idealized of course but there is a truth as well. This is still in many ways a country of villages. There are about 65 million Thais; 80% of which live outside of Bangkok and mostly in the villages. And here in Bangkok millions of people are immigrants from the villages – here for the work but always one foot back in the village.

Down my soi where a narrow road becomes so tight that a single car must drive slow and people must step aside. Down there is a neighborhood – a village. I go often at night and get a bowl of noodles, sit at the little metal table along the soi and watch the village life in Bangkok. People in pajamas, kids running around, coming and going with a mummer of life from a time and place far outside the hubbub of Bangkok.

And in this magic kingdom of villages – rules a king like no other. Standing on the shores of America not so long ago I'd have found it hard to understand and appreciate. Then I learn about this man and way he as lead, the life he has lived and the love of his people and I'm deeply touched. Maybe the village life and a king are an anachronism of another time that is slowly slipping through our fingers. But if that's so it's a sad passing and one that will leave the world a poorer place.

Thai Smile

Reading the expat web discussion board the other day it once again made me feel I'm living in a different Thailand than them – it's as if I'm Harry Potter and went through immigration gate 13 ½ and ended up in a different place than many of these endlessly whining expats droning on and on about deficiencies in anything and everything. The latest was a rhetorical question asking if the Thai smile in "The Land of Smiles" was real or just hiding something insincere and untrustworthy.

First off there are all the normal kinds of people in the Thailand I live in – some are happy and some aren't. Some I trust and some I don't. Everyone has good days and bad days. Life is a tough here as anywhere else. That said, I sure see a lot more authentic happy smiles in my day to day life here – at work (I'm one of two farangs out of one-hundred-fifty+), around Thai friends and family and just in everyday interactions. One of the things that never ceases to amaze me are the smiles and laughter I see around me. Today watching a policeman writing a ticket to two teens on their motorbike, people in the back of pick-ups, construction workers doing backbreaking work in the heat of the sun – all around me I see laughter and smiles bubble up from a gritty and tough day to day life.

There are in fact many recognized Thai smiles. ("yim" in Thai) When I found the list below I read the names out to my girlfriend Meow and she knew everyone and was able to give me an example. Very fun and it had me smiling – and then laughing. Every Thai knows about these smiles – and knows that a smile does not equate with being happy necessarily.

The fact that many of the smiles seem counter-intuitive to the emotion or situation seems to me not to be some sort of insincerity rather I think it reflects something central to the Thai culture. Accepting things like they are and doing the best with the hand you're dealt. Clearly like any personal or cultural trait there are good and bad sides in how things play out. But here a good life is full of "sanook" (enjoyment) and for the moments and times that aren't "sanook" you may as well put a brave smile on and make the most of it. Makes sense to me.

Take the example of the "yim haring" smile. There is the Thai equivalent to the resigned, rolling the eyes and exhale look the United Airlines baggage agent will give you when they lose your luggage. And at the core the Thai smile and the American resigned expression are both saying the same thing "I didn't lose your luggage, I'm doing what I can so don't give me a hard time". Whatever culture we come from we learn how to read these expressions quite well. (I've heard one of the things that is so difficult for Autistic children is that they can't read facial expressions and understand the emotions behind them.) It just seems that for some it's hard to get past the fact that this same message could be delivered in different ways. Or should I say that the delivery of different messages could be conveyed in similar ways. I really can't say one is innately better than the other but for me the Thai way, the Thai smile, suits me just fine. If it's a superficial veneer of pleasantness overlaid on top of life's tough times so be it. What the better alternative – to scowl?

The Music of Dusk

Dusk arrives on our narrow soi on the edge of Sukhothai town and in this moment one might expect things to quiet down but it seems quite the opposite transpires – no surprise to me at least. While the simmer of the day eases into a sultry evening the boom box stereos crank up the heat in the surround-a-sound theater of our neighborhood.

Off in the distance behind the house there is a funeral in process and the sounds of the traditional Thai music and instruments from the assembled piphat play on through the night (and morning it turns out). At once assaulting on the ear with it's nonharmonic, melodic, or linear structure – it's never clear to me if this is chaos or organized.  Listen and see what you think.  (click and wait about 15 seconds) Is there sheet music for this? Like so many things in Thai culture I just have to accept that I don't understand and stop thinking that via structured logic it will be clear. Just let it flow through me and accept it for what it is. Music.

Next door there is a house under construction – high on the stilts 3 walls are completed but the 4^th facing out to us is still open. It appears that they owners have moved in already to their new one room house – I see the TV and other artifacts of domestication. They are busy in the house – brighten up inside as it gets dark outside and fully on display like a drive-in movie theater from our front yard. These neighbors have a predilection towards loud music – more modern style and tonight in their new penthouse on the soi it's at full volume with the base shaking the very foundations of our own house on stilts. It seems they hey are saying "We are here in our new house high above so many of you". It's only between songs or CD's that I hear the other music, especially from the funeral beyond the palm trees.

So the evening goes on in the close communal live of our village, of our town. I've been away for a few weeks and it sure is great to be back again.

Suppertime and the Living is Easy

Meow is off early this week to fetch some books required for the coveted better grade and here it is Thursday – a day without distinction if there ever was one. It's just a day that if you can make it to the end then you're at Friday where there's a world of opportunity.

I linger around the house doing some work, futzing with on my PC and then a long chat with my friend Chris I work with - he's so maniacal but so much fun. He knows how to balance the things we must do with the insanity of why are doing it.

Meanwhile it's past 8:30 PM and I'm fearing the noodle stand up in the quiet end of the soi has packed up for the night. I'm in that in-between-state where I don't want my entire dinner to be mixed nuts and wine and maybe I've had a little more to drink than is advisable to drive the motorbike in Bangkok traffic to the other options. Don't get me wrong I love driving the motorbike under the mild influence – have you seen Titanic?? You know where Leonardo stands at the top of the ship and screams "I am the king!". That's exactly how I feel darting down the narrow sois and careening around the food carts and chaos. And I also remember what happened to him and his ride. Note to self you are not the king and you are not invincible – your brains are just the next plate of scramble eggs for the soi dogs to eat. Noted.

But praise the lord when I get there my favorite soi-side cart is open for business – abet it looks like my lady of the noodles has left Mr. Hubby to mind the store. But I order and plop by butt on one of the primarily color metal stool and folding table sets. My bowl of small noodles, fish balls, pork and some veggies arrive. I spice it up as I've been taught with the right blend of pepper vinegar, sugar, fish sauce and dried peppers. In there is all the ying-yang in life you'll ever need and my best is just an approximation of how it should be. And he over-cooked the noodles.

I've got the camera, the boys in the soi want to chat. I relax and they relax and soon I don't know what the heck we're talking about. When where are you from evolves into pontificating on the life we live it's a blur of words of which only half register as meaningful the rest are just passing by. A few pictures turn out OK in the gentle light and I wander home satiated with the warm evening condensing on my skin, the kind laughter of a group asking me for pictures echoing in my ears and a bowl of noodles tucked inside by belly. Satiated.

Monsoon

On the train home something magic happens. Chatting on my mobile with my boss, who has something good to say so happy to chat, I try to hold things to a quiet murmur with my free hand cupped over my mouth to muzzle the overbearing harshness of my farang English. To duplicate the ability of a Thai girl to talk on the phone next to me and not hear a word – this I cannot do. Too much self-important hot air propels words out at terminal velocity. Again I digress…

As we pause in each station: Rarchdamri, Phaya Thai, Victory Monument, Sanam Pao something happens – it starts to rain, very hard tropical rain. At my old stop Ari it's pouring down and by the time I get off at Saphan Khwai it's coming down in buckets – the night is warm but not muggy, the air is fresh as the wind whips up a spray of freshness that blows under and through whatever it is you're hiding under. Monsoon – it's a word that rings with memories of a life I want to live.

Down and out of the station it's clear that my normal motorcycle taxi isn't the best way to go so it's curbside I go, cowering in my wet attire under a dripping tree, to hail a taxi or tuk-tuk. As luck would have it a tuk-tuk comes by and I hop in. Tuk-tuks are a cause for another chapter but other than being better than a motorcycle in the rain I don't quite get their point. But happy I was this evening to only have my butt and sides wet instead of all over. We can be thankful for anything.

At home I pay and jump out – I'm soaked just getting in the gate and to the door. The soi is flooded, the sky is falling and I pause under the porch and think to myself. I do love the rain so.

Just The Way You Are

Although I've alluded to it here and there it's time for a full-on plug for my favorite restaurant in Bangkok – Gin Lom Chom Saphan – or in translation Eat Breeze View Bridge. Located conveniently off of Sansem on Sansem Soi 3 where you just head down to the end of the soi until you are at the Chao Phraya river.

As the handsome young waiter guides us through throng and we sit down at the picnic table style table and wooden chairs – a little late for riverside but still a wonderful view. As we settle down and I take in the nice company of Meow's cousin and her friend across the table (Meow's upcountry as usual on the weekend) and Cody next to me the band strikes up a cover of Billy Joel's "I love you just the way you are" and the sentimentalist I am my eyes well up and I look around at my extended family, my favorite restaurant and this city Bangkok – and images of Meow in my heart and I do love you just the way you are - all of you.

The scene is dates and families and groups of friends lined up on simple long tables that can be strung together to accommodate a group of almost size. The mode is fun and mellow – very Thai, a little upscale but full of that approachable and comfortable enjoy life Thai sensibility. They have live music and it's nice soft acrostic – ballads some Western but mostly Thai.

The food is outstanding – and if you like spicy you sure can get it here. There is an awesome sea bass steamed in a lime broth with a searing spicy green chili and garlic sauce on top – it's brought to you with a fire under it so it steams while you eat. There are the giant prawns grilled on an open fire – think little lobster, the bitter greens with shrimp, Tom Yum soup with mixed seafood – crab – oh everything is so delicious.

Out on the river the dinner boats sail by lit up in lights while the small tug boats pull impossibly large strings of barges – low in the water going downstream to unload while the small ferries doge and dart across the river. They dance in the magic of twilight under the iconic Rama 7 bridge.

Tonight we gorge on the grilled prawns, raw oysters, Tom Yum soup, fried rice, veggies, beer and who knows what else and top out the bill around $75 – more normal for 2 would be around $40 but we got a little carried away. Yeah maybe a little expensive for Bangkok but the food is outstanding, the view endlessly enthralling, the mood warm and relaxed, the music perfect. Gin Lom Chom Saphan – I love you just the way you are.

God I love this place

Contemplating leaving. Don't want to go. Career and economics mixed with a good does of responsibility may trump the heart. Again.

Today just a Saturday like any other. At the end of the day little Cody and I head up to soi to buy food. He pushes his big black truck up the street. People talk to us. We buy noodles from the same stand I always buy noodles from. She knows me. Knows what I like. I like Bangkok. Don't ever want to go. Plain and simple.

Walking with the Magic of Childhood

Yesterday evening, upcountry in Sukhothai, I set off on a walk with my camera to see about capturing some of the golden infusion of sunset in the lush green rice fields and muddy ponds at this wonderful place where town turns into country just a short walk away. Stepping out of the dirt driveway of the family home onto the small street I was greeted by a band of kids playing and wanting to know where I was going. "Bai nai?" they asked and I explained out to take pictures. Satisfied that this was a worthwhile endeavor and intrigued with the possibilities they invited themselves along.

The children come from houses I'd call typical modest Thai village but I suspect for the average American driving down the street for the first time might look like abject poverty. Most of the houses are on stilts with various degrees of mud, water and junk under them. Some are substantial, and others are no more than one room tin shacks. Scrawny street dogs and aimlessly pecking chickens spill into the streets along with the kids. Every second or third house there is a group of men or women, rarely mixed, chatting in circle under one of the houses or under a tree. They smile and say "Sawadii" as I walk by.  There isn't much in the way of wealth here but there isn't hunger either. It would be tempting to idealize things – judging that they have the real simple happiness that eludes us in the prosperous comfort of the west. But peel away the veneer of western trophy houses or Thai tin shacks and you've got same endless mixture of human sorrow and joy, the same vices and weaknesses, moments and men of evil and good. It's all there – it's all here.

As the pavement ends and transitions into the hard red clay of Thailand the children run ahead of me playing a game of skidding to a stop on the loose gravel and fine dirt under our feet. They suggest many possible pictures, pointing out the beautiful moon next to towering white clouds or opposite to the west the coming sunset above the mountains, around us flowers and fields are all objects worth capturing as their eyes open up to their world through my lens. We have fun taking and looking at the pictures until it's time to turn back towards home. Energy expended they now have many questions while walking by my side – how much did my camera cost (I divide by five because I like my profile low), where is Cody (with his grandmother), where am I from, when do we go back to Bangkok, can they play with Cody's remote controlled car and so many others. They are good Thai teachers – slowing down and repeating things over and over until I get it or we give up.

It occurs to me that perhaps the simple childhood does have a sincerity and magic we're losing back where I came from. Back there we have, I have, successfully orchestrated childhoods so chock full of activities, so fully saturated with the white noise of consumerism and permeated with madness of attainment of all things better than before we have left them I fear atrophying in the ability to just have fun as a gang with nothing better to do than skip along with a middle-aged man to see where he goes. True enough here as everywhere they grow up one day, but today, in this day's closing moments, I get to bask in their effervescent auras and connect with the tribal spirit flip-flop toe dance on a red dirt road not far from nowhere and just around the corner from my heart's desire.