24 hours has given us so much to report!
Arriving in Suratthani, my new home in the South, all I knew was that I needed to find Phantip bus and take it to Phantip Office. Seems simple, but the mind has a way of complicating things (what if no one speaks English and I am forced to decipher Thai's impossible runes?)...but I didn't fret because the trail provides.
And yes, the trail does provide--a major difference between my present state and the trip to Brazil 3 years ago--I had my hike in between. And Lord do I feel markedly more at ease! Brazil became familiar of course, but my initial daily wanderings were characterized by excitement and anxiety, whereas here, the excitement is slightly dulled (because unfamiliar territory is no longer so unfamiliar), but the anxiety is non-existent. So says the man who has been in Thailand for 24 hours. Ha!
Right, so I descended the plane, and yes! First thing I see--in English--is a sign for "Phantip Bus." I told the girl I wanted to get on this bus. She and four other youths a bit younger than myself led me out back to a van parked behind the airport and we piled in. They all worked for the bus company--I was the only passenger.
As soon as the van started up they began to jabber incessantly. And giggle. Guffaw. In fact, they had burst out with sheer unadulterated laughter. And as we drove down the left side of the street (that's how they do it here) the laughter increased, until the entire van was shaking with their roars, and of course I had not a clue as to what was so funny, but I could not help but join in, and before I knew it we were barreling down a highway through the Thai countryside all in side-splitting hysterics. It was utterly surreal.
They could have been laughing at me. Who cares?
When we arrived at Phantip, there was no one there to meet me. I borrowed a cell phone and called Poppy, my primary contact, and she sent someone down immediately. Many Thais have taken on American nicknames, like Poppy, Olive, Petunia, Beyonce...it is amusing.
My courier asked if I was hungry and I said oh yes very but that I would grab some dinner once I settled into the apartment. Still he insisted that we stop at 7-11 to nourish me, pointing out all the things that are good and all the things that aren't. I ate some weird spicy meatballs in a bag that were actually fuckin' delicious. Even the convenient store food here is out of sight.
And so far on this journey at least 10 people have stopped me to ask about my traveling guitar--it works its magic everywhere. I will never put that thing in a case again. The ultimate conversation starter. She belongs on the outside of my pack. Any name suggestions?
My apartment is rapidly growing on me. It is in a fantastic location in the center of town near the river, equipped with balconies and an AC unit. And a king size bed! It is slightly dingy, a bit rickety and dirty, but perfectly good for me. I've only found 3 or 4 roaches so far, and one was dead. The trouble is, I just don't have the heart to kill the little buggers--I'll catch one and then "it will escape." The apartment is also equipped with its very own house cat who likes to pop into my room for purring stroking sessions. I'm sharing the place with a Dutchman who holds an Irish passport and is pleasant and plays music--and mentioned a need for alone time. I think we'll get on well.
Oh yes--and I was thrilled to note the bedet in the bathroom. So necessary in tropical climates. One must stay fresh, no?
Here is an amusing anecdote:
A British fellow who is moving out tomorrow offered me a ride on his motorbike (one of which I will be purchasing for personal use in the coming days) to the department store to get a power adapter. I grabbed a pair of shorts too and offered my credit card to pay for them. The cashier printed the slip and I signed, but then she shook her head no (while still smiling, of course--when in doubt, smile, even if you're giving/receiving bad news), showing me that the signature on the back of my card does not match the one I had just written on the receipt. And indeed they didn't--because the back of my card reads "Ask For ID"--an added security measure slowly catching on in America. We tried explaining in a hundred different ways that it was not a signature, but a security measure, and I showed her my ID (which has a signature on it)--there is even a picture of me on my card along with my name which also printed on the receipt. But this is useless to someone who thinks that English resembles the same monkey scratches that Thai seems to me. She called over another fellow who claimed to speak English but couldn't, and it was all kind of silly, until the British fellow I was with got a brilliant idea: to write "Ask For ID" on the receipt. I did such, and without a question or a blink, the cashier handed over my purchase to me and we left the store giggling.
So from now on, everything I buy with a card will be signed by a fellow named "Ask For ID." So much for added security!
The saleswoman who gave me my shorts was also giggling with her associates--perhaps it is me they are laughing at. Oh well, I'm sure I am pretty silly to them. The joy present here is so palpable and refreshing--my mission will be to excavate how genuine it is.
This morning I meditated on my balcony then threw on some workout duds and hit the pavement for a run. No one here runs. Pedestrians have such little say in the constant flurry of whirring motorbikes. And pickup trucks! No tiny Euro cars here. Hundreds of pickup trucks and motorbikes. Anyway, I ran down to the river and over a bridge, and came across another bridge leading to an island. The island looked lush and inviting--it turned out to be a sort of rec park, with outdoor exercise equipment, volleyball courts, and a trail around the perimeter, and even a Buddha shrine. I will be returning.
The rest of my day has been spent strolling through the city, picking up essentials (top sheets and hand towels!), and sampling various street vendors. Wow. It is all so varied, so full of flavor, so spicy (I was burn burn burning with a Ring of Fire this morning--thank you bedet--) so mouth-wateringly delicious, and so bloody cheap. 60 Baht here, 40 Baht there--for full meals (30 Baht=1 dollar)!
Suratthani bears an uncanny resemblance to Salvador, Brazil. The shops and streets, the weather, even the rotting trash smell (which has a fishy afternote to it--and you know, the funny thing is, it is kind of putridly addictive, as in I catch myself taking a nice big whiff when I pass the trash pile on my street). Yet, it is cleaner. The folks seem more jovial and welcoming to foreigners. And there are no homeless people. I haven't seen a single one--an unprecedented uniquity. The language barrier can be hard. But I will learn. For now my bumbling half Thai (and inversely, their similarly mottled English) and hand motions will get me by.
I am not living in a tropical paradise replete with beaches and mai tais. I am living in a real city, with real people, and I'm grateful (Luckily, I'm only a short boat ride away from said tropical paradises--har har har!).
I look forward to connecting more with the international community here. The other teachers. I look forward to having a motorbike. I don't really look forward to inevitable hardships, but I will accept them with attempted grace. Even gratitude. I look forward to discovering this city as I more deeply discover myself. I look forward to connecting with and inspiring children. And after this long list of future desires, really, I truly seek freedom from desire, and the stability to exist wholly and completely in this very moment.
Not so easy.
Stay tuned.
ทั้งหมดคือความสุขทั้งหมดที่มีความสุข ...
 |
| Can you count the pickup trucks? |
