Showing posts with label Suvarnaboomi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Suvarnaboomi. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

How the farang crossed the street in Surat Thani.



Take a deep breath, close your eyes and run.
(maybe skip step 2)
                                 

Feeling grateful that I wasn’t about to die, I got dressed quickly and cheerfully started walking to the end of the alleyway, it was only 7:45 in the morning but the heat was already in full swing. I walked in the shadows of buildings as much as I could, only stepping into the sunshine to dodge the blue trash barrels where a cluster of chickens now hovered under a haze of sun-drunk flies. 
  Those trash barrels seemed to support a lot of life, flies and chickens during the day, rats and cockroaches at night and mangy dogs at all hours. I continued past the trash barrels passing two faded yellow, one story houses and an off white three story apartment complex that had many pieces of re-bar sticking out the side. I stepped even further into the shadows at the requests of a passing motorbike. The driver beeped his horn to warn me, then waved and shouted “Hey You!” as he passed.  I smiled back, unsure if I had just been reprimanded for uncouth walking etiquette or merely greeted with a Thai version of good morning. From the smile on the motorcyclists face I figured it was just a kind greeting, although it did sound quite aggressive.
The end of the alley way spilled out into the major street that my new boss and I had driven in on the day before. There was a lot of traffic, mostly motorbikes and huge pick-up trucks, which offered an interesting juxtaposition. It looked as if the pick-ups were hunting the little motorbikes, waiting for the right moment to attack and crush them.  Amongst the fast moving pick-ups and motorbikes there was also a lady in a wide straw hat, pushing a large cart filled with ice and fruit.  I recognized watermelon and pineapple but couldn’t identify anything else. The fruit lady smiled as she past me and said “Farang.” I had read about this word, used as a blanket term for most foreigners. I wasn’t sure how to respond but shouting “Thai!” back seemed a little uncouth so I just smiled at her and over her shoulder I noticed the boss's car pull over on the opposite side of the road. 
 To get to my boss's car meant I had to cross the busy street, which was even more confusing because the cars were driving on the left hand side of the road. I stepped toward the edge of the curb, shading my eyes from the sun and waiting for a break in the traffic.  There would be an opening coming from the right hand side but then the other side was always flowing steadily. A couple of times I saw a brief opening, figuring I could make it if I really ran, but in the second it took me to decide if I was going to go for it, a motorbike would shoot out from behind a slowly approaching car and force me back on to the sidewalk. 
After 5 minutes of unsuccessful attempts, which felt more like 20 because I knew my new boss was watching me from behind his tinted windows, a young man from the key making shop behind me stepped out onto the curb. He didn’t say a word, merely motioned for me to follow him as he stepped out into the street. We had an opening on our side of the street but the opposite side was still flowing with traffic. The man just walked to the middle of the road and then stopped. I stood next to him as cars, trucks and motorbikes flowed by on both sides. We stood together, in the middle of 60 km/hour traffic, my heart beating faster at every burst of wind from a passing vehicle. Then the traffic cleared on the opposite side of the road and the man motioned for me to cross.  When I had safely reached the sidewalk, I turned back to say thanks, but the man had already re-entered his key shop.
I approached what I thought was the passenger side door, only to see the tinted window roll down and my boss's smiling face. 
“You expecting to drive?” he laughed good naturedly. 
“Sorry, still getting used to all this.” I replied as I rushed to the other side. 
The air conditioner was on full blast and it felt like Freon heaven.  “You have a good sleep?” my boss politely asked.
 “Sure, the roosters were a little frustrating but I managed to catch a few hours.”  I replied. 
We drove toward the restaurant in a comfortable silence. I watched the town pass by, marveling at the amount of people that could fit on one motorbike and also at the apparent anarchy that seemed to rule the road. My new boss swore softly under his breath as a four door pick up truck cut directly in front of him, but we reached the restaurant safely and in less than 10 minutes.
 I opened the car door to a wall of heat and realized that Thailand won’t easily let you forget how far away from home you are.
                                
Heading to school.
My Dad used to drop me off in a cop car,
 pretty sure his ticket finger would constantly be twitchy in Thailand!
                                    

Monday, May 14, 2012

Mena Suvarinamaboomi?


           Mena Suvarnaboomi
Space age Bangkok airport.
               Maybe the culture shock won't be so bad...



I was sitting in Bangkok’s new airport and it was certainly much bigger and more modern looking than the one where I had drank my last Tim Horton’s coffee back in Saskatoon. Hell, the name was even longer, Suvarnamaboom, or something like that. It seemed to be spelt differently everywhere I looked. I started to feel shaky and uncertain. I was having a kind of first world meltdown because many of my pre-conceived third world notions were quickly evaporating.

 In order to steady myself I perched on a hard grey bench, directly in front of a monstrous air conditioning unit, and focused on faking a desperate need to rummage through my carry- on bag. A clean cut, middle age man in a collared yellow shirt sat down beside me. I heard a quick snippet of a song I didn’t recognize and he reached for his cell phone from his back pocket. His cell phone was certainly smaller, and more modern looking, than any one I had seen back home. With a quick tap of his index finger he answered the call, put the phone to his ear and said, ‘Hallo?’ What followed was such a quick flurry of Thai that I did not recognize one word. Well, besides the word hello, which I had spent the past two weeks attempting to learn to speak in Thai, a lesson which was now proving completely unessential.

 I was starting to realize that perhaps you can’t really prepare yourself for Thailand while you are walking through snow covered streets in Canada. Point taken.
             
             The truth is that during my entire time in Survanamaboom (or whatever it was), I had stayed very close to the original grey bench of refuge.  The positive side was that it was in a quiet part of the airport with only two gift shops and a row of five coin operated internet machines nearby. I had created a comfortable area using my extra long sleeved shirt wrapped around my Lonely Planet book as a pillow. My carry on was wrapped around my wrist for added protection and my passport and credit card were safely stored under my shirt in one of those lame money belts that had me patting my stomach every five minutes like an expectant mother.

            I wiggled into a comfortable position pulled the sleeve of my shirt over my eyes and tried to lull myself to sleep with positive thoughts about the new direction my life was taking. I imagined myself inspiring classrooms of eager children, reading books under coconut trees and swimming in clear waters surrounded by colorful, playful fish. My shoulders relaxed and I slowly began to drift off into a hopeful, dreamy sleep.

It was only after a few moments of peaceful sleep that the enemy presented itself. It eased its ice-cold fingers up the back of my shirt, taking full advantage of that seductive inch of skin that reveals itself between your shirt and your jeans once you slightly bend your knees. The monstrous air conditioner was on full attack. I tried to tuck my shirt into my jeans but as soon as I nodded off, the inch of skin would reveal itself and those despicable icy fingers would, once again, creep slowly up my spine. After an hour of this, I was tired and angry, angry enough to flee my original grey bench and see what else this place had to offer. 

The restaurants were all shut down and there were very few people actually moving about in the airport. I had full access to whichever sleeping area I wanted. The only problem was that each bench I encountered was accompanied by it's looming, hideous partner. I spent the night with my extra long sleeved shirt stuffed in the back of my jeans and my head directly on my Lonely Planet guide book. When I woke up, I swear, my drool was frozen to the cover.