Imagine a beach. Completely deserted. The strong sound of waves are nearly equaled by the sound of frogs. It is an odd to hear frongs so close to a beach. But the frogs are happy happy happy. We just had a large thunderstorm. And all of the surroundings have been drenched. Puddles are everywhere. Little ponds are now big ponds. They are either shouting out sounds of excitement. Or maybe even sounds of passion. Do frogs like to mate just after large thunderstorms?
Maybe they are all freaking out at the sudden burst of water all around them. What I hear as exuberating calls may be sounds of distress.
I am on the south beaches of Thailand. Really. On the beach. Today, after a couple of days in middle of things of the town of Pattaya, I decided to change my scenery. I went online, and booked a room at one of the highest rated places on the beaches of Pattaya. At noon, I checked out of the big multi-story hotel in the center of things, and headed south. I asked about a taxi. The best I could get was a “bhat taxi.” This is the prime transportation down here in south Thailand. Hundreds of pick up trucks have been decked out with a canvas roof and two benches. They patrol the streets, and honk at you as you go by. A nod or a small wave gets them to pull over and roll down their window. With your finger, you flash one finger, two fingers or three. One finger means that you are really just going down the street – and that will cost you about 10 bhat (35 cents). If you flash two fingers – you are going somewhere between downtown and one of the beaches 20 minutes away. You might also try it during the middle of the afternoon, when desperate for customers, they trucks will agree to a 20 bhat fare (seventy cents) to go 20 minutes to the better beaches. In peak time, three fingers is the long haul distance.
I had to pay more. I had commodored the entire pick up for my journey. Normally – the driver had the right to stop along the way – and others could jump on to the back of the pick up with you. Small door bell like buttons adorned to the top of the canvas topping allows you to literally ring your stopping point along the route. But this time, I and my luggage went alone. That cost me a whopping 150 bhat (after I negotiated down along side the bellman, who probably was also getting a little on the side from his cousin). My $4 pick up taxi took me about twenty minutes south of the main town of Pattaya to a place known for wider and quieter beaches. After two days of the town life, I really needed time to chill out.
I have a Thai house here. Well – I have the lower level. It is mid week – and no one is living upstairs. There are 47 little cabin like places here. I had to negotiate the price. We finally settled on $67. The front desk clerk told me that was the best mid week price he could give me. He agreed actually to give it to me for $61 – but I would not get breakfast. I asked him what breakfast would be, and he told me, “Whatever I want.” Normally, in peak times, there would be a buffet. But in today’s economic situation – and in “low season” (as most Europeans come here in August – March), and because of H1N1, there are not many guests here. And so – they give you a menu of all of the items they have for breakfast – and for the extra $6 to my bill – they said I could order as many items as many times as I want. I just have to be here no later than 10:15 in the morning to get my unlimited fill of cholesterol.
The waves continue to roll in. The sound rushing in and out. But now – the frogs have stopped. I turned to my waiter here in this beach side café. I tried to ask him about why the sounds of the frogs have stopped. But he didn’t quite understand me – even though I tried to make the sound of a frog. I need to work on my impersonations.
Something is swirling around my legs. It isn’t frogs. It is dusk – and it is time for the animal that lives near the frogs that live in the grassy bushes near the ocean. I don’t like them. But they love me. “Fresh western blood,” they cry out. “This farung taste so exotic,” the mosquitoes must say to each other. I signal the waiter to bring me one of the floor smokers. Small ashtray like devices are loaded with a kind of incense that are lit and then placed on the ground. It is now just at the base of my feet. Smoke swirls around me. It adds an interesting “oaky” flavor to the glass of Chilean Chardonnay I am having while sitting here. (Oh yeah. “farung” is a name here in Asia that basically means “white ghost.” It is the name affectionately given to us white visitors here in southeast asia.)
My service here is excellent. It is 7:12 pm – and I am still the only one at the open air bar and restaurant at my hotel. If I throw hard, I could toss a baseball into the ocean from where I sit. It is the nicest bar on the restaurant. And yet – I am the only one. No Americans. No Australians. Only Russians, middle easterners and a few odd Swiss or Swedes. This place deserves more. But for now, I feel lucky.
CROISSANTS OR SPICY THAI SOUP?
I didn’t know what to choose. My morning routine over the last couple of days has given me difficult choices. Despite me trying to convince you that things are more “simple” and less “western” here in Thailand, my stories may be deceiving. Each morning, when I wake at 9am or 10 am – which is wonderfully common here in the beach areas of southeast Thailand (shops don’t even open until 11am!), I have been able to walk outside my hotel and make a big decision. Do I go left to the Starbucks a half block away? Or do I go right – to the large beach front shopping mall featuring at least 200 stores, and go to that Starbucks?
Over the last several mornings, I have been going right. Because they have food. This large shopping central, simply known as “Central” was completed in the last years. It is an amazing oasis in a city of little tiny stalls of life. It is as much shocking and overwhelming as it is a refuge to visitors who want to have an organized way of purchasing. The mall has a food court. You can buy everything – from Mister Donuts to Dairy Queen freezes to a huge range of stalls featuring local Thai food. And there is a large grocery market that features the best of the west from around the world – including rind wash cheeses, 4 kinds of smoked Norwegian salmon, and a French bakery. The bakery states they are authentic because their croissants are at least 40% butter. I have tasted them. I agree. I would have to drive 15 miles to get such wonderful croissants from my home in California. Not so here in southern Thailand. And so each morning, I have walked to “Central” – with the intention of buying the croissants to go with my Starbucks coffee. And then I walk by the Thai food stalls. And I see the locals getting their large bowls of steaming noodles soups for breakfast (which is around 11:00 here!). And I can’t resist! I have to have some of that.
But first I have to charge up my “food cash card.” They really don’t want the food stalls handling money – and so, similar to China, they ask you to buy a food card. You go and get a bar coded card and “charge up” a few dollars and then go to the food stalls.
I looked at the locals in line, and ordered “what they were eating.” In English, it was described as a “spicy Tom Yum soup with pork pieces.” I love Asian soups. And each one is unique in flavor and taste. While Vietnamese soup is singular in approach with a broth of star anise and rice noodles, Thai soup is best described as a symphony.
All around the street of Thailand, “soup men” tool around on bicycles and push carts to sell their salad or soup. The soup people have a boiling broth of liquid in their soup to which they add ingredients depending upon the kind of soup you have ordered.
I call it a symphony of soup. In my morning breakfast today, there were no less than 15 ingredients. The broth really becomes an overnight stew of bones from probably pigs and chickens. But it also takes on the various flavors of the items tossed in at the last minute as the soup is made for you.
The soup man first takes a netted strainer, and tosses in a mixture of greens and fresh pork pieces. He tosses it up and down in the boiling liquid and then tosses it into to your bowl. Next, he takes a handful of rice noodles, and again, with his strainer, submerses them into the caldron of liquid. It only takes a minute and your noodles are tossed into your “build a soup” bowl. Then the symphony begins. In the push carts or the bicycles, they may have only 5-10 ingredient bowls. But today, there must have been at least 20-30 bowls of ingredients. Depending upon the soup you choose, the soup man dips a spoon into each bowl, and in a flurry, continues to build your soup bowl. My bowl was tossed with chutes of a vegetable, crumbled pork, pork balls, sliced pork and fried pork. I had chilies, onions, sugar, peanuts and dried shrimp added. The bowl was piling up. The final step was to add a large ladle of the original broth from the soup bin by which all soups originated.
It was a symphony.
Maybe they are all freaking out at the sudden burst of water all around them. What I hear as exuberating calls may be sounds of distress.
I am on the south beaches of Thailand. Really. On the beach. Today, after a couple of days in middle of things of the town of Pattaya, I decided to change my scenery. I went online, and booked a room at one of the highest rated places on the beaches of Pattaya. At noon, I checked out of the big multi-story hotel in the center of things, and headed south. I asked about a taxi. The best I could get was a “bhat taxi.” This is the prime transportation down here in south Thailand. Hundreds of pick up trucks have been decked out with a canvas roof and two benches. They patrol the streets, and honk at you as you go by. A nod or a small wave gets them to pull over and roll down their window. With your finger, you flash one finger, two fingers or three. One finger means that you are really just going down the street – and that will cost you about 10 bhat (35 cents). If you flash two fingers – you are going somewhere between downtown and one of the beaches 20 minutes away. You might also try it during the middle of the afternoon, when desperate for customers, they trucks will agree to a 20 bhat fare (seventy cents) to go 20 minutes to the better beaches. In peak time, three fingers is the long haul distance.
I had to pay more. I had commodored the entire pick up for my journey. Normally – the driver had the right to stop along the way – and others could jump on to the back of the pick up with you. Small door bell like buttons adorned to the top of the canvas topping allows you to literally ring your stopping point along the route. But this time, I and my luggage went alone. That cost me a whopping 150 bhat (after I negotiated down along side the bellman, who probably was also getting a little on the side from his cousin). My $4 pick up taxi took me about twenty minutes south of the main town of Pattaya to a place known for wider and quieter beaches. After two days of the town life, I really needed time to chill out.
I have a Thai house here. Well – I have the lower level. It is mid week – and no one is living upstairs. There are 47 little cabin like places here. I had to negotiate the price. We finally settled on $67. The front desk clerk told me that was the best mid week price he could give me. He agreed actually to give it to me for $61 – but I would not get breakfast. I asked him what breakfast would be, and he told me, “Whatever I want.” Normally, in peak times, there would be a buffet. But in today’s economic situation – and in “low season” (as most Europeans come here in August – March), and because of H1N1, there are not many guests here. And so – they give you a menu of all of the items they have for breakfast – and for the extra $6 to my bill – they said I could order as many items as many times as I want. I just have to be here no later than 10:15 in the morning to get my unlimited fill of cholesterol.
The waves continue to roll in. The sound rushing in and out. But now – the frogs have stopped. I turned to my waiter here in this beach side café. I tried to ask him about why the sounds of the frogs have stopped. But he didn’t quite understand me – even though I tried to make the sound of a frog. I need to work on my impersonations.
Something is swirling around my legs. It isn’t frogs. It is dusk – and it is time for the animal that lives near the frogs that live in the grassy bushes near the ocean. I don’t like them. But they love me. “Fresh western blood,” they cry out. “This farung taste so exotic,” the mosquitoes must say to each other. I signal the waiter to bring me one of the floor smokers. Small ashtray like devices are loaded with a kind of incense that are lit and then placed on the ground. It is now just at the base of my feet. Smoke swirls around me. It adds an interesting “oaky” flavor to the glass of Chilean Chardonnay I am having while sitting here. (Oh yeah. “farung” is a name here in Asia that basically means “white ghost.” It is the name affectionately given to us white visitors here in southeast asia.)
My service here is excellent. It is 7:12 pm – and I am still the only one at the open air bar and restaurant at my hotel. If I throw hard, I could toss a baseball into the ocean from where I sit. It is the nicest bar on the restaurant. And yet – I am the only one. No Americans. No Australians. Only Russians, middle easterners and a few odd Swiss or Swedes. This place deserves more. But for now, I feel lucky.
CROISSANTS OR SPICY THAI SOUP?
I didn’t know what to choose. My morning routine over the last couple of days has given me difficult choices. Despite me trying to convince you that things are more “simple” and less “western” here in Thailand, my stories may be deceiving. Each morning, when I wake at 9am or 10 am – which is wonderfully common here in the beach areas of southeast Thailand (shops don’t even open until 11am!), I have been able to walk outside my hotel and make a big decision. Do I go left to the Starbucks a half block away? Or do I go right – to the large beach front shopping mall featuring at least 200 stores, and go to that Starbucks?
Over the last several mornings, I have been going right. Because they have food. This large shopping central, simply known as “Central” was completed in the last years. It is an amazing oasis in a city of little tiny stalls of life. It is as much shocking and overwhelming as it is a refuge to visitors who want to have an organized way of purchasing. The mall has a food court. You can buy everything – from Mister Donuts to Dairy Queen freezes to a huge range of stalls featuring local Thai food. And there is a large grocery market that features the best of the west from around the world – including rind wash cheeses, 4 kinds of smoked Norwegian salmon, and a French bakery. The bakery states they are authentic because their croissants are at least 40% butter. I have tasted them. I agree. I would have to drive 15 miles to get such wonderful croissants from my home in California. Not so here in southern Thailand. And so each morning, I have walked to “Central” – with the intention of buying the croissants to go with my Starbucks coffee. And then I walk by the Thai food stalls. And I see the locals getting their large bowls of steaming noodles soups for breakfast (which is around 11:00 here!). And I can’t resist! I have to have some of that.
But first I have to charge up my “food cash card.” They really don’t want the food stalls handling money – and so, similar to China, they ask you to buy a food card. You go and get a bar coded card and “charge up” a few dollars and then go to the food stalls.
I looked at the locals in line, and ordered “what they were eating.” In English, it was described as a “spicy Tom Yum soup with pork pieces.” I love Asian soups. And each one is unique in flavor and taste. While Vietnamese soup is singular in approach with a broth of star anise and rice noodles, Thai soup is best described as a symphony.
All around the street of Thailand, “soup men” tool around on bicycles and push carts to sell their salad or soup. The soup people have a boiling broth of liquid in their soup to which they add ingredients depending upon the kind of soup you have ordered.
I call it a symphony of soup. In my morning breakfast today, there were no less than 15 ingredients. The broth really becomes an overnight stew of bones from probably pigs and chickens. But it also takes on the various flavors of the items tossed in at the last minute as the soup is made for you.
The soup man first takes a netted strainer, and tosses in a mixture of greens and fresh pork pieces. He tosses it up and down in the boiling liquid and then tosses it into to your bowl. Next, he takes a handful of rice noodles, and again, with his strainer, submerses them into the caldron of liquid. It only takes a minute and your noodles are tossed into your “build a soup” bowl. Then the symphony begins. In the push carts or the bicycles, they may have only 5-10 ingredient bowls. But today, there must have been at least 20-30 bowls of ingredients. Depending upon the soup you choose, the soup man dips a spoon into each bowl, and in a flurry, continues to build your soup bowl. My bowl was tossed with chutes of a vegetable, crumbled pork, pork balls, sliced pork and fried pork. I had chilies, onions, sugar, peanuts and dried shrimp added. The bowl was piling up. The final step was to add a large ladle of the original broth from the soup bin by which all soups originated.
It was a symphony.
Compared to the two butter croissants recently purchased and now in my backpack, how could I resist?The croissants are still in my backpack. The have deflated to the 60% non butter stage by now – struck by the outdoor humidity. Maybe I will try to toast them for a late night snack.
So – this is all the light side of my life over the last several days.
But I have been noticing much. Seeing much. And have more thoughts on my mind.
One of my friends wrote to me yesterday and said, “Remind me to tell you one night a piece of advice the head of security at Lockheed Martin gave me about people who travel to Thailand ...”
I am certain to know what she will tell me. This place is not for the faint hearted. It is both a place I love and a place that shocks me. It is a place the more people will not like instead of love. It is a place for adventurers. And it is also a place for people who don’t fit in. It is on the edge of the world.
In my blog tomorrow, I will tell you more about my observations, perspectives and feelings. If you have gotten this far, and you actually want to read my more serious blog entry – come check it out in 24-48 hours on my blog at http://www.fridayinthecity.blogspot.com/
Now, I need to go back to my villa, clean up, and determine what sort of new experience I can create for myself tonight. Or not.
Here is a picture of me typing this journal entry – taken by one of the four waiters I have all to myself tonight! The beachside bar here has wireless internet and provide a perfect place with atmosphere to write! Cheers!
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