The mouth of my soi

Mai kao-jai is probably the most useful Thai I know. It means “I don’t understand.” It also summarizes my knowledge of Bangkok.

I used it successfully for the first time tonight while buying some mysterious balls of meat from a street vendor. She asked me a complicated question in Thai, probably whether I wanted spicy sauce, or sweet sauce. I said mai kao-jai, which she must have understood, because she repeated it and laughed. Then she let me sample the sauces. Yes, I can now serve as a source of entertainment for street vendors!

But seriously, being understood in Thai is no easy task. Each word can have up to five meanings, depending on how you say it. And I don’t understand the five different tones. I’ve quickly learned that studying Thai on my own is not sufficient. I need feedback on how I am saying the tones.

Cops and Vendors

But back to the previously mentioned vendor. While I was busy indicating which balls of meat I wanted to purchase by placing them on the grill (even the Thais do this), they suddenly ran away. While pushing their cart. Over the bags of groceries I had set down. The three other vendors nearby did the same thing. I figured some half-assed bust must be going on. Looking around confirmed my suspicions, because a cop was standing around with a “drat, foiled again,” look on his face. The vendors weren’t too difficult to locate, since they had only moved a half block away. So the Bangkok police must either be lazy, stupid, or corrupt. Who would have thought?

But the question remains. Why are meat balls illegal? Mai kao-jai.

The Starbucks Connection

While futilely searching for an internet cafe, I stopped at Starbucks to work on my Cambodia photos. When I whipped out my laptop, an expat and fellow computer geek asked me if I was aware that this Starbucks has a wireless network. No, I wasn’t. That’s good, a chance to try out my wifi capability. It’s expensive, though, so it would still be nice if I could find a cafe. I’ll eventually get an ISP at home, but it will be slow.

By chatting with my new acquaintance, I learned that he had his own business installing wireless networks. Hence his secret knowledge, since Starbucks isn’t advertising its network. But I was encouraged to meet an expat who’s not teaching English. I’d like to stay here for awhile, but would rather do anything besides teach English.

Then Russell briefed me on the dangers of Thai women (“You will get a girlfriend,” he assured me). Apparently, all those Thai women you see with Western guys are looking for a “lifestyle upgrade.” Who would have thought? I pretty much had this figured out already. Thai women are stunningly beautiful, but is a relationship founded on the differences between bank balances a healthy one?

After he warned me about Thai women, Russell’s Thai wife came in. Mai kao-jai.

Wither Seven 11?

While in Bangkok, you are never more than 30 seconds from a Seven 11, an internet café, or a street vendor. Unless you are near my apartment. I seem to have found the only area of Bangkok that lacks these three essentials of life. Having to take a bus to the Skytrain wouldn’t be so bad, if there was something in the neighborhood. But there’s nothing here, except a Lexus dealership, a Mercedes Benz dealership, and a BMW dealership. Since I don’t plan on purchasing a luxury automobile in the near future, there’s not much here for me. There is an IMAX theater down the street, but how many times can you watch giant panda documentaries?

Comments (3)

I finally lost it and literally dove ahead of a woman who was cutting in front of me in the express line at the supermarket.

In the West, we learn from an early age the Rule of the Queue. When a limited number of people are providing services to an unlimited number of people, those wising to be served form an orderly line. The first person in the line is the first one to come out. In certain academic circles, this is known as a FIFO queue, or First In First Out queue. It is an indelible, unquestionable truth, and those who violate it are severely chastised, threatened, and otherwise persecuted.

Unfortunately, things are done differently in Asia. The aforementioned academic circles would have a difficult time identifying the different sorts of queues, or clusters, as they could be called here. I propose the following two, either of which would make a good topic for further study as a doctoral thesis.

• FTMECWTVO. This is the First To Make Eye Contact With The Vendor Out cluster, and is about the most orderly one can hope for. Being the first in has no correspondence with leaving the cluster. The only hope is to catch the vendor’s eye. The vendor will often, but not always, look at somebody who is relatively close to him. But, since it is a cluster (and not a queue), there are no rules against stepping in front of anyone, or getting the vendor’s attention even if you are behind someone. It can be statistically shown that farangs who do not speak Thai may never leave this kind of cluster if the vendor deliberately avoids their gaze.

• FTGTMIFOTVFO. This is the dreaded First To Get Their Money In Front Of The Vendor’s Face Out cluster. It can be a difficult cluster to identify, and may appear to be a simple FIFO queue. Until somebody sneaks in from the side and sticks their money in front of the vendor’s face. I was once waiting in what I thought was an orderly FIFO queue, behind a little old lady, until another little old lady came out of nowhere and maneuvered her money in front of the first little old lady’s money.

But did the first little old lady mind? Of course not! This is Thailand! Mai bpen rai, or “it doesn’t matter,” as the Thais say about pretty much everything. Thais are too laid back to care. Plus, a Thai is never in a hurry, so who cares if somebody gets in front of them?

If a farang wants to retain his sanity, it’s best to adopt this same attitude. Generally, I don’t have too much of a problem with it. In fact, there’s an element of guilt associated with it. If I don’t know the Thai words to indicate what I want, it’s only fair that the vendor ignores me, right? Note that this usually isn’t too much of a problem, and vendors will try to accommodate farangs. Eventually.

But that fateful night at the supermarket was too much for me. Yes, the supermarket, bastion of Westerness, with wide gleaming aisles, packed with Thais aimlessly milling about, and girls noisily hawking free samples over loudspeakers. So not exactly Western, but close enough to lull me into complacency.

As I got into the express line, I was excited to note that while there were three cashiers, there was only one line, with a railing indicating that it was one line. “Ah yes,” I said to myself “one entrance, multiple exits. The most efficient form of queue. The wait should be short indeed.”

Then a woman cut in front of me, to get to the second cashier, who wasn’t quite finished with his current customer. “But… F… I… F… O…,” I muttered. Then another woman started to jockey past me, to try to get to the third cashier, who wasn’t quite finished with his customer. Something snapped inside me. “FIFO!” I shouted, shoving her aside, and claiming my rightful place.

I didn’t even say khao toot kap, or “excuse me.”

The cashier smiled and laughed nervously. Then sanity returned, and I realized the folly of my rash actions. The woman still doesn’t have the foggiest notion of what a queue is. All I succeeded in doing was making a scene. A Thai would never dream of making a scene.

What’s a farang to do?

Adopt the Thai national motto. Mai bpen rai.

Comments (3)

I spent the last week learning how to bend, twist, and press my victim, er, partner properly, learned the Thai word for “pain,” and am now a certified Thai masseur.

At school

I was looking for a way to learn something about Thai culture (besides standing in queues), and hopefully meet some Thais. What better way than learning to give a Thai massage? And it was not only a good way to learn a unique skill. It was the same course Thais who want to get massage jobs take, so it was a good way to meet Thais who aren’t trying to sell me stuff.

It’s totally different from the Swedish massages (known as oil massages here) popular back home, and no oils or powders are involved. No kneading is involved either. A Thai massage consists of applying pressure to a series of points on the legs, arms, back, neck, and head. To do this, the thumbs are mostly used, but pressure is also applied with the palms, elbows, and even the soles of the feet. There are also a few yoga stretches where you get to bend your victim into weird positions, sit on their back, and even stand on them!

I was partnered with the lovely Kate (since Thai names are unpronounceable, all Thais have a monosyllabic nickname), who wants to be a masseuse. Our instructor was Samchai. Somchai was a good teacher, but, like all the instructors, did not speak English. This made the learning process slightly more difficult for me, but not impossible. I was able to learn by example, and Kate was sometimes able to translate. And when I made a mistake, Somchai would smack the offending appendage with a rolled up newspaper.

But it was impossible to pick up on some of the finer points. While Kate was able to ask detailed questions, and receive detailed replies, I was only able to muddle on. Sometimes the other farangs would help me. I couldn’t remember to point my fingers outwards when moving from the calf to the thigh. Finally a French guy explained the obvious: point your fingers away from the crotch!

Giving a Thai massage is hard work, and after the first day, my back was killing me from kneeling so much. I eventually learned to relax, but never was able to totally relieve the pain. By the sixth day, I was feeling sort of confident about what I was doing. At the end of the day I had to give Samchai a massage. I guess I did OK, because he gave me my diploma. Kate was really nervous for some reason, and refused to attempt the “test,” even though she gave better massages than me. She says she will practice more, and try next week.

If you’re in the neighborhood, I give you massaaage. I give you special price.

And the Thai word for “pain” is jep.

Comments (2)

A bum gets his big break.

Beggars in Bangkok are certainly far less annoying than in many Asian cities. They leave you alone, secure in the knowledge that they can make a good living from the reverse Buddhist logic that encourages people to give money to beggars to gain merit for themselves, but not to actually try to solve the problem of poverty. After all, if they did, how would they gain merit for themselves?

Thus, beggars provide a vital service, and if you don’t feel like working, you can make a decent living as one. Beggars can simply sit there with a cup, and good Buddhists will throw a few coins in as they walk by. Of course, it helps to have a sick baby, or to be missing a limb or two. Unfortunately, some bums feel the need to up the ante and provide musical services, and this being Asia, is in the form of karaoke. They’ll have a microphone attached to a speaker, which they will sing awfully into. If you’re truly unlucky, his wife will be accompanying on her Casio keyboard. I would pay these people just to shut up.

When you spend more than a couple weeks in the same place, you get to know all the beggars, and as a result, stop feeling sorry for them. There was one guy outside of the MBK mall, probably the most lucrative place in the city to beg, who had a pretty good business. Like all the other beggars, he would prostrate himself in front of his cup. But his unique contribution to the profession was his dog, who would lay next to him, with his own cup. It was cute, and the dog’s cup would fill up quickly.

Then his big day came. He was on the front page of the Bangkok Post. Now he only has to work one day a week. And the other bums outside of MBK are hurriedly training their own puppies.

So I may be cynical, and a bad person for not giving money to poor beggars with hideous deformities and diseased children. If you want to, fine, it’s a personal choice. But I have my reasons. First of all, they’re not going to starve, because the good Buddhists will support them. And how many of the disgusting injuries are self inflicted? And why are these homeless, baht-less women having babies? Finally, you can be assured that your money will be going to the local mafia, which takes a cut of all business on the street. The mafia puts the beggars up in shelters in return for their services.

A good way to truly help is to give the beggars food, which the mafia can’t take.

But my hat goes off to that bum and his dog, who escaped the system.

Comments (1)

That’s the moto of the Thai language school I’ve enrolled myself in. It means “look well, listen well, think well, speak loudly.”

Our teacher, Kruu Chutikaan, has three weeks to pound the basics of the Thai language into our brains. We started off pretty simply by practicing saying vowels. Vowels are part of what makes Thai difficult for English speakers. There are 18 of them, some long, some short. Short vowels are not a problem, you just say the sound normally. But the long vowels are held for an unnaturally long amount of time. So whey you say “hello,” you say sawatdii, and hold that last “ii.”

Still not too much of a problem? Here’s a bit of bad news, then. There are some vowels in Thai that don’t exist in English. There’s an “uh” you say with clenched teeth, as if you were in pain. And an “ugh,” without the “gh,” again, as if you were in pain. Both of which can be either long or short. As we practiced these sounds, a passerby would think the whole class was dying.

There are also some strange consonants, such as a “bp” halfway between a “b” and a “p,” and an “ng” halfway between an “n” and a “g.” There is even an “r” sound that’s rolled. I can’t do this, and it comes out halfway between an “r” and an “l.” Luckily, Thais have the same problem, which is why they call me “Telly.”

Still, nothing too difficult, here. Until we add the one final detail. In theory, it doesn’t sound too bad, but in practice it makes Thai very frustrating. Tones. There’s five of ‘em. The mid tone, no problem, just say the word normally. Today KruuChutikann explained the falling and rising tones. The falling tone doesn’t just fall, it rises, then falls. And the rising tone falls, then rises. We all nodded our heads reflexively as we practiced going up, and down. Then there’s a low tone, no problem there. However, I can’t tell the difference between the falling tone and the high tone, since the falling tone often doesn’t seem to fall.

Once you think you have the tones mastered (which I don’t) try combining them with some long vowels. Makes for a nice vocal chord workout. “ii,” “oo,” “aa,” “uu…”

Thanks to tones, each word can have up to five meanings. If you manage to say maai mai mai mai mai properly, it means “new wood doesn’t burn, does it>” Be careful when asking to have your shirt washed, because you might accidentally ask to have your tiger washed. If you want something, you could say it’s difficult instead. You could call your grandfather a crab. You might confuse a vendor by, instead of ordering noodles, ordering a bear.

A mistake every tourist makes is that instead of asking a taxi driver to take him to a temple, he asks to be taken to a cold. Whatever that means. This is why the taxi driver always repeats your destination.

And, extreme caution must be exercised when purchasing bananas.

Then there are words with similar sounds. If you’re not careful, instead of complementing somebody by telling them they look good (dii), you could threaten to hit them (dtii). Or instead of asking for salt (glua, with a “u” as if in pain), you could say you are afraid (glua).

With the combination of tones and additional sounds, there is no way to write Thai words using Roman letters. Kruu Chutikaan uses a series of superscripts to represent tones, and some made-up letters to represent the unique sounds. But you can’t put that stuff on signs and maps. Unfortunately, nobody ever came up with a standard way of Romanizing Thai, so if you’re looking for a certain street, it can, and will, be spelled in many different ways.

One thing that is standard about Romanized Thai is the liberal use of the letter “h,” which is usually superfluous. Why is there an “h” in “Thailand?” There’s no “th” sound in Thai. And why is the word for island spelled “kho,” when it’s pronounced “gau?” Whatever the case, many a tourist, myself included, has been confused by this system.

Comments (1)

Sorry about the lack of updates. But now that I’m staying in one place, they would all go something like today.

I got up at 6 am. I walked 10 minutes past the packs of mangy three-legged dogs to the mouth of my soi, where I waited 10 minutes to cross the busy road. Then I took a standing room only bus/sauna to the Skytrain station, to catch an air-conditioned train for the half an hour ride to Silom, the high-tech business/counterfeit goods/red-light heart of Bangkok.

I really like the vibrant, busy Silom area, and the transformation that takes place every night when the well-dressed office workers go home and the street vendors set up and Patpong’s go-go bars open for business is astonishing.

In school we learned the rest of the consonants, and I discovered the reason for all the “h’s.” The “kh” sound is aspirated, and sounds like a puffy “k,” but the “k” sound is unaspirated, and sounds sort of, but not quite, like a “g.” Same with the “th,” which is a puffy “t,” while the “t” is a cross between a “d” and a “t.”

The book I use at home dispenses with all this nonsense and simply spells words with “dt’s,” “bp’s,” “k’s,” “g’s,” etc. But in the class you have to remember all the silly spelling rules, which are useless outside, since everything is spelled with Thai letters. That’s one of the reasons I’m thinking of dropping the class.

Then we spent two hours practicing saying hello and asking each other’s names. I already knew all the words, but remembering how to put them together was a struggle. Strangely, part of the problem is that there aren’t enough words, so you often answer questions using the same words in a different order.

Then I reversed the commute, and did research on the internet for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, studying Thai doesn’t pay the bills. In fact, it is a bill. And a rather hefty one, at $150 for a month. So I won’t be continuing. I learn better on my own, at my own pace, anyways.

My reason for dragging my feet on looking for work is my lack of enthusiasm for teaching English. Finding other work is extremely difficult, especially if you don’t speak Thai. I’ve never taught before, and frankly, the prospect of being stuck in front of a roomful of Thais, who would rather be entertained than taught, terrifies me.

I also think I would make a very poor English teacher. I’ve accepted the fact that Thais speak pidgin English, and I use it every day to communicate with them. As a teacher, I would be expected to correct their common mistakes, but would fail, since I wouldn’t be able to make the lesson entertaining enough to hold my students’ attention. I would find this unbearably frustrating.

So, what’s a farang to do if he doesn’t want to teach? I discovered an intriguing opportunity, which I must research thoroughly before pursuing. I don’t really want to say anything else, since nothing may come of it. But suffice it to know that I’m not just laying around all day, and boozing and whoring all night. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, look for more attempts at humorous articles on life in the weird and wonderful city of angels.

Comments (2)