2 and 1/2 months in Shangri-La

This is a true story of two people, one from India and the other from France, who came to live in Thailand in the year 2008, to find work and make a decent living. Instead, they found themselves characterized in an urban legend, that spoke neither their language nor style. Worse, the legend revealed nothing. Untimely covered in an ancient and mystical time-wrap, the legend mistook everyone for being the same, and took what people gave up so easily— their appearances. People in this legend never spoke to each other and in time, people lost sense of who they were and where they came from. Everyone travelled around, looking for the missing clue, from Chang Mai in the north to Phuket and Koh Samui in the South. Some in desperation wore yellow robes, some painfully inked the King’s anthem in their arms and legs, while some crafted beautiful scarfs in silk and crafts in bamboo and others who took to the beaches- sat silently, vacantly gazing at the empty seas, as if all the answers will suddenly come impounding on them.

But unknown to all in the legend, and beneath all this legendary fuss, is the one which stood pronounced, in the most hideous fashion – hedonism.

Call it over-indulgence, call it negligence or a 21st-century resonating in hedonism. There’s a free-floating sense of guilt but an over-riding sense of conviction as well - that we did what we couldn’t have done better – ridden on all our senses to feel and experience the last 2 and a half months in Thailand. Eating out everyday, travelling every weekend, sitting in personalized movie halls, daily room-service, free laundry and a must Singha beer and Magarita with every meal. Well that’s the life we are going to leave behind in a few days.

Miss Deck

Our hotel manager, like most Thai don’t speak English but when they do they find it hard expressing all the way in English. When convenient, we avoid making lenghty conversations lest it may initiate misunderstandings. Our Belgian friend Slyvie, uses a simple yet clever ploy to get past this communication-limitation when booking restaurant/tickets etc. “What is the name under which the reservation will be?” they ask. Slyvie pips, ‘D. E .C. K!’

Rather than engage in an ardous spelling of an alien name over the telephone and then paying attention not to make the ‘x’ sound like ‘ek’, Sylvie’s four-lettered-pseudonym works perfectly. Apparently, other phirangs in some spots of the city use the same ploy as I overheard someone say that they’ve forgotten their ‘reservation name’ and pleaded to be given a place.

Few days ago two shirts sent to the hotel laundry came back with some color stains. Apparently, a shirt color came off and stained the others. We were told that the hotel manager will contact us the following morning regarding the shirt stains. But we were away in the morning and late that evening we received this letter from the Manager:

Dear Mr. Perrot,

I would like to inform about the Laundry that color remove we still trying to repair them. I try to go to see you today but you hang DO NOT DISTURB sign in the morning and I don’t want to disturb you and after that I try to call you again but you don’t stay in the room. I will inform you again, we can remove them or not tomorrow.

With Best regards,

Sutina Pakpunpai

Sweet people, the Thais!

The Floating Market

We woke up early yesterday, at 5h and on a Sunday morning to be precise, only to be at the floating market by 7h. Luckily this time we didn’t lose our way-in and -out of Bangkok, as this time we had a road-map.

When we reached the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market by 7h, not all floating shops were open and not all patchy street dogs awake. There were only a handful of tourists sitting lazily on boats that sluggishly floated through the murky green waters between boats that sold fruits, meals and handicrafts. We ate a peaceful floating-breakfast – small rice pancakes stuffed with grated coconut, coconut water and bananas. Bought some typical touristic souvenirs, haggled skillfully. After an hour’s boat-ride, we got off and went alongside the canal, to take a look at the market from the other side. From the other side, we saw a sudden transformation of the place. The place was switched over so radically, that it needed sometime reckoning with.

All early birds can take solace from this, as by 9am there were more boats than the narrow water canal could endure. The place was bustling with a fever of a late morning sort, which was a little distasteful because we saw a sharp contrast of what the place was like just about an hour ago. Both foreign and Thai tourists poured in by the hundreds and vendors by the scores hungered for their attention. Not sparing ground, the vendors hawked along the breadth and length of the floating market, and in shops alondside the water canal. Boats with both tourists and floating-vendors clamoured for water space, and there were even floating-traffic-jams every now and then.

Vincent with his new zoom lenses took some lovely shots!

Re-discovering the Wai

The Thai people – kind , soft spoken, ever smiling and waiing. Their relentess wai escapes all normality but gives us visitors a momentary assurance that we are welcome, a sign we search for in a foreign country. And I love doing the wai which has the same significance as the namaste in India – but in India we don’t go namasté ‘ing about like the Thais. The namasté is left to the more traditional/older gen, the non-urban and skillfull hotels that want to welcome tourists in the traditional spirit. It is giving me quite a kick wai'ing around in Bangkok.

The wai is a greeting strikingly similar to the namasté with the palms clasped in front of the body. But the ordinary Thai does the wai with a great sense of earnesty – lowering the head and body slightly and looking below. There are two variations of the wai – a normal wai and a wai to a superior. It is believed that the Thais learnt the wai from India, and it is no surprise because historically India’s had a lot of influence on Thai customs and religion.

My Yoga teacher does the wai (to each of his students) with his eyes nearly closed as if to a superior. This is strange because it breaks all guru-shisya (teacher-student) norm in India, where it is the guru who is considered superior until the student masters the knowledge which the guru imparts.

But not everyone will wai you – don’t expect the cab driver to wai you, nor the passer-by and nor the metro ticketers. But they will wai you when they welcome you to a restaurant or hotel or receives money or even a credit-card ;). Now I have habitually started wai'ing the Yoga teacher and the hotel bell-boy.

I think Indians will need to re-learn the Thai wai.