Learning how to watch

I was in a taxi with a Westerner friend, and she was talking about this and that. I didn't take anything in, because I was watching the life on the street.

I saw a small gathering of women outside a nightclub. They were dressed up, obviously at work. A few metres on, young men in plastic overpants, barechested, were hosing down a stand at a meat market, and packing away carcasses in a truck.

Earlier, as the sun set over my condo we gazed at the railway line below. Four or five trackside residents sat themselves down on the railway lines for a talk. Nearby, someone lit a fire and another gathering formed.

Normally I can watch life around me uninterrupted, but tonight, as I say, my Western friend is chattering.

It's all Western stuff, by which I mean analytical, critical and judgemental. It threatens to tug me away, to an abstract intellectual place, where the life I watch on the street loses its beauty and becomes mere human activity.

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People wonder how Thais can maintain such a sweet disposition when confronted with traffic jams, pollution, and stinking governments, where in the West these problems would cause stress and protests.

At the risk of thinking too much, let me offer a theory: Thais are such superbly social animals that they have learned the values of patience and tolerance, and with it greater peace of mind.

Social activity looms large in day-to-day life. It takes on new meaning, for those who have learned to watch.

A short time ago, I visited a nightspot, close to a university, and a long way from tourists. The brother of a friend was part-owner.

It was a hole in the wall, with just enough room for a band by the front door, tiny tables and chairs, and a primitive bar arrangement (whisky, beer, no food). It was packed with students, and the music was raw.

At 2am, the music stopped, and patrons piled out - but rather than race for the taxis, as Westerners would do, these young ones just found a new place to squat or cluster, and resume talking. Where was that Western-style pressure and tension?

Those social virtues of patience, tolerance and forgiveness might also explain why I can witness something here which to me looks unique and even moving, but appears as nothing special to Thais themselves.

One day close to Pattaya, I passed an open-deck truck packed with youngsters. I watched as a boy started combing a girl's hair. It was mid-afternoon, but they had evidently just risen from wherever they had been sleeping.

Their hair was still wet, and they had applied powder to their faces, to stay cool. Their clothes were only half on, as they had not finished dressing.

In the West, if I saw such a ragtag bunch on the streets, I would expect them to misbehave, as that kind of thing just isn't done in public.

As I walked back from the mall last week, on a scorching day, six or seven young men were bathing themselves on the footpath. They stood in a cluster, dipped a plastic container into a large black tub full of water, and poured it over themselves.

Street cleaners appeared to be in charge of the tub, as they were recharging the water with a hose.

The young men took soap or shampoo, lathered themselves, then splashed themselves clean. The boys were bare-chested, with cut-off shorts. Nearby, I saw a large pile of clothes and shoes.

They looked natural. They were having a good time. I wanted to stay longer, but I was worried that staring might seem rude, so I kept walking.

I don't know where they came from, and I have not seen them since. When did I last do that with a bunch of friends? Down at the beach perhaps, when I was very young, and then only with family. Why haven't I done it since?

In the West we seem to have forgotten how to do such simple things, at least outside the home. We worry about how it will 'look'.

Here, we can fill our days performing such simple acts with our Thai friends. They are fun, because they involve people, and nobody is in a hurry to judge.