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Abandon All Logic Ye Who Dare Enter Here
Thailand is that rarest of mixtures, a place that, to the untrained observer,
appears to be a fully-functioning modern nation with all the trappings of
success and iconic cultural identity which that implies. Then, there’s the other
stuff…
Picture, if thou will, a typical evening in my beautiful Isaan homeland. I may
wander the road-side stalls looking for such bargains as my inner-child deems
indispensable. A Thai-flag coloured kite was my latest purchase. Upon getting it
home, I discovered it had neither a tail (not a major problem, admittedly) nor a
string with which to fly it. Ah well, it looks pretty, stretched across my desk
at work.
As hunger takes hold I may avail myself of a quiet corner of a local Korean bbq
house. The term ‘quiet corner’ has a somewhat different meaning here, as the
television blares out cartoons watched by adults and, if one is truly lucky, the
owner’s children will be celebrating the end of Buddhist Lent by lighting
fireworks and throwing them onto the road in front of oncoming vehicles. This, I
am lead to understand, is in place of dinner music, which, after all, is so
yesterday. I usually eat alone, and as the plate of vegetables is quite large, I
take a little and donate the rest to a nearby group of eager diners. Never once
has it occurred to the owner to make a half portion for single customers. In
fact, he has now taken to pointing to the table he feels will be most
appreciative of my left-overs.
Act of charity duly performed, I saunter off to wet my whistle at a local
lakeside bar and eatery. To do this I have to tightrope across a half-submerged
bamboo gangplank and past the room with a clearly visible double bed in it. I
guess the waitresses get tired during the evening, I’m not sure.
The next day, as I realise that my motosai’s 3 month ‘servit’ is approximately
18 months overdue, I head in to town to the very friendly Honda dealership.
There I am greeted by the mechanics wearing (what else?) bright, white overalls,
and quoting me 112 baht for the service. Not a problem. “Aaah, eckuse me Teesha,
this plice not collect. Plomotion: 29 baht.” So my two-stroke chariot enjoys a
well-earned and well-overdue service, and I enjoy the labours of a white coated
Honda technician working on my bike for an hour, for the cost of a bottle of
Leo. Sounds fair.
On my way home I see the Boys In Brown have set up a roadblock across the main
road, the only access to my apartments. I realise it’s the end of the month and
rules that have not mattered for three weeks suddenly become all-important. I
have my Licence on me, so I cruise up fearlessly to see what the deal is. I ride
straight through, as do the other riders, some with helmets, some without. There
appears to be no rhyme nor reason to this practice. Perhaps they were only
stopping cars today. Or perhaps only people wearing blue. We may never know.
One of the great joys of travel is to experience the exotic; to find oneself
immersed in a culture which holds little or any resemblance to that which we
call home; to that which we call ‘normal’. Surely then, in Thailand, we have
truly found ourselves a paradise…
-WB
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