Tuesday, May 24, 2011 – AngThong Thailand
The night was cool for Thailand. I walked outside just in time to witness a distant lightning show somewhere off to the west. No thunder. Thunder is rare here unless the rains are perfectly upon you. It was a silent show, flashes of electric magenta lit up the volcano clouds like rouge. They blushed in front of me and stopped me in my tracks, the trajectory of my eyes pulled to that hypnotizing beauty, the silent purplish mystery lurking and rolling along. Feet finally fumbled into some kind of forward motion, but the pause therein will stick for years, the scene pierced like a needle through my neurons and tattooed itself singular in the trunk of my cerebral cortex. Nobody else watched. The other Thais stood smoking their cigarettes… just another night under familiar stretches of bruised sky.
I ate a delicious pad prik gai for dinner (chicken stir-fry with vegetables, peppers, and rice) at the same restaurant where the roomies and I had our first run-in with a baby elephant. We now call it the Elephant restaurant. One of the waitresses is shorter, sweet, and always smiling. Her name is pronounced oo-wan. She likes to talk to me as if I know Thai, but I keep telling her, “poot pah sah tai nid noy, nid noy” (I speak very little Thai). She was admiring my postcards before I left – small monk children receiving alms, camp children jumping off elephants in the water, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, Democracy Monument near Kao San in Bangkok.
I wrote her name in my booklet as I made my way to the red postbox past the new bar in town. Now there are two. I slipped the cards in the thin black slot, wondering how many hands they would touch before they reached the ones they were intended for, so many miles away. I carefully crossed the street, sure to look both ways twice lest the motorbike tires mangle me disfigured. Safely on the other side, I set my trajectory past the 7/11 to the only night sweets cart around, like a moth to the flame, like a magnet, I am drawn instinctively to this vendor almost every night. His name is Sunat, and he also talks to me like I speak Thai, but I keep saying to him “mai kow jai ka” (I don’t understand). I like Sunat, he gives me free samples of the little custard dough balls in the middle rack. I usually buy a few of those, along with a small chocolate doughnut with sprinkles, and a pastry filled with coconut shreds and covered in sugar – the entirety of which costs about 50 cents. I take my goodies in a bag and mosey on back home.
Right before I got to the house, off in the distance somewhere to the south, two bolts of atomic blue lightning struck out to opposite sides, like long stringy fingers, or two branchy arms welcoming me back to our humble abode. I had a glass of milk to dunk my doughnuts, and watched the last half of the most awful movie starring Ben Stiller, Drew Barrymore, and some old Irish hag who moves in upstairs. Except for the terrible movie that never should have been made, it was all in all a perfectly pleasant evening.
Also, I started another book by my beloved Tom Robbins called Jitterbug Perfume. It may or may not affect the style of my writing over the next few weeks or so.
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