A Day in the Life

The first of three postings from my 1999 trip to Southeast Asia

Today was a good day.

It began when I awoke early. It was around 6am. Too early. There was no reason to be up at this time. I went back to sleep until 8am. As I slowly roused from sleep, a strange sound became audible. After a minute, it was clearly distinguishable as the sound of a military commander giving orders to his troops. The hotel must be under attack. I got nervous. My door was locked, but it would be no defense against marauding soldiers hell-bent on finding tourists loaded with cash.

I looked out my window into the courtyard behind the hotel. A team of uniformed soldiers stood motionless in a line as their commander barked out commands. They turned left. They turned right. They assumed a relaxed position. They got tense and rigid. They did not appear to be on the verge of attacking the hotel. I decided to proceed with my business as if nothing was wrong. It was the correct decision.

(the story continues on the next page....)

A short time later, armed with my small daypack (containing all the essentials for a day trip) and a bag filled with silk and cotton fabrics, I left the hotel and walked out onto the streets of Khorat. Khorat is a mid-sized city in the northeast of Thailand. There is nothing that particularly distinguishes the city and few travelers stop here. Which is why I decided to spend a few days in this place. It turned out to be a good call. I've gotten stares, smiles, laughs and curious looks from all sorts of people. My visit fortuitously coincided with a two-day silk festival complete with elaborate dance performances in full traditional dress. In two days of walking around this city, I had seen just two other Western faces. A far cry from the backpacker ghetto in Bangkok. English is not widely spoken here. I've had to rely on a combination of hand signals, mispronounced words from the phrasebook, intuition and a smile.

My first stop of the day was the post office. I found it without too much trouble (thanks to the English sign on the outside -- "Post Office") and proceeded inside to the main area. They had a box for me to use and the clerk showed me how to wrap the package with string. He did not speak English. We used hand gestures and had surprisingly little trouble communicating. It wasn't hard to figure out that I was trying to send a package. It was the Post Office after all. Then he quoted me a price of 2600 Baht (~$70) to send the 4 kg package. I almost croaked. "Thamadaa.." I cried, reading the word for "surface" from my phrasebook. "Thamadaa" he repeated, as if to verify that this was the surface price. It seemed far too expensive, particularly given that the fabrics themselves were worth about that much combined. "Cheaper, slower" I begged. The clerk next to him was listening. "Boat?" he asked. "Yes, boat" I replied. The price was now 950 Baht (~$25). Better. "2 to 3 months" he said. I said "ok". The package went out 'by boat'. I was relieved. The first task of the day was done.

I then walked to an intersection where I was told that it is possible to get a bus going in the direction of Phanom Rung. Phanom Rung is an ancient temple built by the Khmers in the 12th century. A fellow traveler who I'd met in the last hotel told me not to miss it. Since he lived in Porter Square, graduated from Cambridge Rindge and Latin High School, and knew Matt Damon, I figured that his advice was sound. So I had gone to the bus station yesterday to get the right bus number -- The 274 to Surin. No problem. On the way to the intersection, I stopped at a school gate. There was a formal event taking place. A school marching band performed, replete in uniforms that would make any American baton twirler proud. The two lead children held a banner that read "Nakhon Ratchasima Primary School Melodious Band" in English. Strange. They played small mouth accordions by blowing into the end of a flute-like device and manipulating the piano keys with their fingers while marching in formation. I joined in the applause at the end of a rousing song. It was bizarre.

I proceeded to the intersection. A bus approached. All the writing on the front was in Thai script. No latin numbers. I got a little nervous, since I can't read Thai. It looks like Sanscrit. So I walked up to the guy at the door and said, in my best Thai accent, "Surin?" (making sure that my 'r' sounded like an 'L'). He nodded. I got in the bus, hoping that I hadn't said something nonsensical to which he could give no reply other than a nod. It was an ordinary bus. No air conditioning. Five seats to a row. An older Thai woman in the third row motioned for me to sit next to her. I did. The Thai buses have a driver and a conductor who issues tickets. While the bus is en route, the conductor traverses the length of the bus and takes payment from new arrivals. "Ban Ta Ko" I said when he approached. This was the name of the stop for Phanom Rung. He gave me a ticket and scribbled '40' on the back. I paid the 40 Baht ($1) and he continued down the bus. At the next major stop, four or five vendors boarded the bus and walked down the center aisle selling their wares -- whole barbequed chickens (with the beaks still on), drinks, fruits, sausages with cucumber, and some unidentifiable foods. I opted for drinking water (about $0.12 for a liter) and cut sections of what appeared to be a jumbo grapefruit ($0.25). The fruit was somewhat flavorless and very tough. A packet of sugar was included with the fruit. I didn't use it.

The woman next to me said a few things that I couldn't understand. I responded with a smile. She repeated the incomprehensible phrase. I surmized that she was asking about my destination. "Ban Ta Ko" I offered. She smiled back. "Nang Rong" she said, pointing to herself. I knew that Nang Rong was just before my stop and was happy because her departure would be a sign that it was almost time for me to get off.

As we plied the roads towards my destination, I glanced at the family sitting across from me. A middle-aged woman was holding one small boy while another sat beside her. The small boy was figeting and seemed very distracted. The mother said something to him, then reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic baggie. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she lifted the baggie to the child's groin, pulled aside the leg of his shorts, and held it as he peed. When he was finished, she tied the bag and put it away for safekeeping.

I had no need to worry about getting off at the right time. The conductor gave me a sign at the right place (after about 1-1/2 hours) and I exited the bus onto a desolate stretch of rural road. A boy immediately approached and said "where are you going now?" This phrase is the single most common english expression known to Thais. I have had this phrase shouted at me several times a day since my arrival. Mostly by taxi drivers. "To Phanom Rung" I said. He offered a motorcycle taxi to the ruins. I had planned to take a motorcycle and was prepared. He offered to take me to two sites and then return for 250 Baht ($7). I knew that the going price was 200 Baht and counteroffered. He countered again with 230 Baht. I told him that other travelers told me that they had paid 200. He smiled, looked a little defeated, and then said ok. I hopped on the back of a motorcyle with a driver and headed towards the ruins. The bike was sized in-between a moped and full motorcycle. I was sitting behind the driver and hoping for a safe ride. He had a helmet. No one offered me one. We travelled through farmland for about 15 minutes. The wind whipped through my hair and body, helping to evaporate the sweat that built up on my body during the bus ride. I tried to remember which way to lean at the turns. Into the turn, or away from it? I settled on leaning into the turn, hoping that my lack of familiarity with motorcycles wouldn't lead to a bad situation. We arrived at the site without incident. ""I wait for you here" he said. I pointed to my stomach and the food stalls to indicate that lunch was first on the agenda. He nodded.

Lunch was delicious. I ordered "stir fried vegetables" which interestingly also came with chicken. The sauce was light, a bit sweet and very savory. The rice was perfect.. I then made my way to the ruins. They were very impressive. A large stone temple complex with carved reliefs and a center spire covered with engravings and portraits of various gods. Very cool. It was also very hot and humid. I had to stay in the shade for comfort. There were a number of other tourists at the temple, almost exclusively Thais after a group of French people had left.. As I walked around the complex, a woman approached me and asked something in Thai. I gave a blank look. She gestured. I figured out that she wanted to take a photograph of me with her family. I obliged. Then the onslaught began. Practically every female Thai in sight waited their turn for a photograph with me. They smiled and giggled while family members and friends looked on approvingly. Jokes were made, possibly at my expense, and everyone began to laugh. I just stood there and smiled. After about 15 photographs with various women, one man walked by, said something to me in Thai, and then repeated a word in English. "Husband". I laughed myself and smiled at all the Thais. It was clearly meant to be in good fun.

At the next temple, I ran into a group of young Thai women. Again, the same drill. Photos with the group and then with each one individually. I felt bold and put my arms around their shoulders when the photos were taken. They seemed to find this acceptable. Then one started up a conversation while the others looked on. It was brief and limited, but we established some basic facts about ourselves and then said goodbye. As I left, the group of girls began to roar with laughter at the very fact that the conversation had occurred. I laughed too. Why not.

At the foot of one temple, I started talking to two guys. One was Japanese, the other Thai. The Japanese guy worked for the United Nations Development Program in Laos as a video producer. He was spending the weekend in Thailand. The two offered me a ride back to my hotel in Khorat. I sized them up for a minute and debated internally. Is the offer legit, I wondered. The Thai guy joked that they might try to kidnap me if I came from a rich family. That sealed it. They were definitely not engaging in a scam. I accepted the offer. We rode back to Khorat in a comfortable air-conditioned Suzuki land cruiser. Apollo, the Thai guy, talked to me about many aspects of Thai culture -- the beloved King, why movies are censored, rifts between older and younger Thais, his problems with the French tourists, and why McDonalds is a good thing for the world. Yoshi, the Japanese guy, chimed in on occasion but mostly kept quiet. After two hours, we passed through Khorat and they dropped me at a corner and kept going towards their destination, a city several hours to the west. I walked back to my hotel and took a cold shower.

Tomorrow I head to another temple, then on to Nong Khai, a town on the banks of the Mekong River. The gateway to Laos.

Every day is an adventure.

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