Keeping the memories of those olden, golden days alive
My foreign friends and students who know my life habits ask me why I love old things; old houses, old wood furniture, and even pieces of an old rice mill that I keep underneath my old wooden house in Bangkok. It seems strange, doesn't it?
Childhood memories of Thai village life
I must have been eight when the Communists came to our village, because that was the first year my grandmother told my father that I must stay in school. I had six older brothers, I was the first girl in the family, and there was a lot of cooking and dish-washing to be done in the morning. My father thought that girls who stayed too long in school would just get pregnant.
Tales from Thai society
The story begins with a new foreigner who came to our village two years ago. He was an Australia man, strong and handsome, not so old, but he spoke no Thai and never smiled. I would see him sometimes, with his wife, at the local noodle shop. She was from the tambon, the small town about fifteen minutes bicycle ride from my farm.