Fighting over food

Talad Phlu is famous for its food, especially old-style Thai deserts. but on Chinese New Year, we do a starve

Chinese New Year means virtually no food, at least around where I live. We are now fighting over it.

My regular food outlets have closed for the weekend. Actually, some have been closed for a couple days now, and will stay closed for longer still.

My regular lunch place, a small sit-down eatery close to home, is closed for three days. The woman who runs is making merit at home.

Maiyuu says she does not look Thai-Chinese, so wonders why she bothers. Maybe she is doing it for appearances.

Many people in our market have Thai-Chinese ancestry, or like to tell you they have. Some might just want a holiday.

Another place over the road sells food with rice. The dishes there are more expensive, but the ingredients better. They are usually my second choice, but they, too, were closed.

When my regular haunts are shut, usually for public holidays or festivals, I visit the places I keep in reserve. I don't like the food as much, but when you are hungry, anything will do.

More of the wonderful fare usually on offer in Talad Phlu

The first noodles place I visited at lunchtime looked busy, but could not help me.

'We have just sold out,' the owner told me. She must have had a big increase in customers, as normally she stays open most of the day. We are all hungry, so we have to venture out in search of those few places which are still open.

On the other side of the market, I went by a place which sells franchise roast chicken. It looked tasty enough, though I don't know how long it had been sitting there. I am not even sure if the place was open for business, as the steel slide door was pulled half way across the entrance.

A woman was cleaning out one side of the chicken cabinet, with the chicken itself squeezed on the other side. She had gloves on her hands and it looked messy. I kept walking.

After a 10-minute search, I found another noodles place. I have been there once before, with my massage crowd. The woman who serves the noodles was talking to a young man when I arrived. I stood in the entrance, waiting for them to finish.

Just as the young man left, a woman aged in her 30s, wearing a cold-looking white T-shirt, turned up on my left. She did not look at me, or wait to see if I had ordered. She just cut in.

'Two noodles,' she said.

The owner should have served me first, but might have been too busy to notice, or scared of farang. The insistent woman in white had grabbed her attention, just as intended, so she would get served first.

Thais often see a farang waiting to order, assume he is unable to communicate or help himself, and just cut in.

Mostly, I suspect that people do it without thinking. But I did not like the look of this woman, so I had a go at her.

'Can't you wait your turn?' I asked her.

'What?'

She gave me a hostile look.

'You cut in,' I said.

'Er?'

I turned back to the noodle woman. I asked if I could have two noodles, to take away. I would eat at home instead.

I took a seat inside the shop while she made my order. I busied myself looking at a large fish swimming in a fishtank, so I would not have to look at the woman who cut in.

'Here you are,' the owner said, smiling, as she handed me my noodles. I gave her a big smile in return, and thanked her.

Aggressive women out noodle-hunting will not make me forget my manners. I will not suffer a loss of form to such impolite Thais, even if I am ravenous.