The internet connection to my condo was down this morning, so for the first time in weeks I left home before midday to take a look around the market.
The sun was not long up, and the river calm when I visited the canal, which is usually my first port of call. It was shortly after 8am. City workers on boats were picking up rubbish from the canal using forks on the end of long rods. Tourists were speeding past in long-tailed boats.
Other than that, the scene was quiet...for about 10 minutes.
Then, youngsters from the local school started arriving. They like the pier, because they can smoke. Actually, Thai youngsters can light up any time – they are not too fussed who sees them. But at the pier, they are away from the prying eyes of adults on the street.
They arrived in dribs and drabs, some on motorbikes, other on foot. Some wore white shirts, others green. A few were clutching what looked like homework sheets, or reports from school.
At one point, 30 youngsters were perched on the rickety pier itself, or on the wooden handrails. When tourists went past on their boats, the youngsters cheered and waved; tourists lifted their cameras, and clicked.
Most looked normal. A few wore lip gloss. One was obviously gay, or a kathoey. Another lad wore lip gloss, and a huge ear stud in one ear. Almost all wore their shirts pulled out. Most were sopping wet with sweat, despite the early hour.
The school term has ended for many schools, so these youngsters might have been taking tuition outside class.
I am curious to find out, as I would like to know what extent schools impose order on their lives. Judging by what I saw in the market this morning, the answer is: Not much.
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| Diagram of the local school |
One lad who I know bounded up to me to ask if I had been to work yet.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I go this evening.’
He knows what I do.
Some of his friends were surprised to see us talking. ‘I am beginning to have doubts about you...’ one lad told him.
My young friend was wearing a watch with a shocking pink plastic strap. ‘He knows my mother,’ he replied.
I do? That’s flattering, but if I do know his Mum, I can’t remember who she is, or where I met her.
‘He’s just sitting there baking in the sun,’ another remarked, unimpressed to see this farang occupying valuable benchseat space on the pier. ‘Ai hiya!’
That’s an unflattering remark in Thai, but from the mouths of youngsters this age means nothing. It’s a staple part of their vocabulary, along with other vulgarisms such as ‘ai-sut’, ‘mueng’, and ‘koo’. I ignored him, though it gave me a start at the time.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I go this evening.’
He knows what I do.
Some of his friends were surprised to see us talking. ‘I am beginning to have doubts about you...’ one lad told him.
My young friend was wearing a watch with a shocking pink plastic strap. ‘He knows my mother,’ he replied.
I do? That’s flattering, but if I do know his Mum, I can’t remember who she is, or where I met her.
‘He’s just sitting there baking in the sun,’ another remarked, unimpressed to see this farang occupying valuable benchseat space on the pier. ‘Ai hiya!’
That’s an unflattering remark in Thai, but from the mouths of youngsters this age means nothing. It’s a staple part of their vocabulary, along with other vulgarisms such as ‘ai-sut’, ‘mueng’, and ‘koo’. I ignored him, though it gave me a start at the time.
The pier is close to a fenced playing area where local youths – usually older than this group – play football. Next to that is an unfenced area where youngsters of all ages shoot hoops. These playing areas are under an overbridge, which passes next to the pier.
I sat at the pier for 20 minutes, then went for a noodle in another open area under the bridge where oldies from the market gather every night to perform a Thai version of tai chi.
‘You are here early this morning,’ said the woman who owns the noodle stand. ‘Can’t you sleep?’
Yesterday, she saw me sitting at a table, head in hands. The noodle woman knew what I was thinking.
‘Thai politics – don’t think too much, it’s not worth it,’ she said.
School-aged youngsters were gathered at tables around me. Some had brought their motorbikes. Others were still whizzing about, three or four youngsters to a bike.
They whipped past me as I sat eating my noodle. If I had moved my arm a little to the right, a passing bike would have hit me.
The bikes roar, of course, but no one seems fussed. At this hour of the day, people in the market are used to it being taken over by Thai youth.
And they were indeed everywhere. Some gathered in small knots under the bridge, but most were walking – going where? To school, or back from it?
Others roared about on the street on bikes. They, too, were going places, though I have no idea where. One group of youngsters sitting on a bike passed a youth sitting on the sidewalk with a girl. He had dyed his hair blond, and looked like he might be part of the local ‘element’.
The boys on the bike called out a greeting.
‘There’s too many on your bike...ai-sat [an unlovely expletive]...you’ll crash and die,’ he replied.
About 20-30 youngsters in uniform were waiting on my side of the road for buses, vans, and tuk tuk. As I walked through the market, I saw another large group on the other side of the road, waiting for buses to take them somewhere else.
One stream of youngsters was walking up a street from a local school. A few were heading on motorbikes in the direction of a secondary school attached to a local temple.
And as I returned to the relative peace of my condo, I shared a lift with four or five female secondary students, clutching school papers and bags.
I had no idea that my market could be so lively at 8am. The next time my internet goes down, I shall have to expose myself to it again.
I sat at the pier for 20 minutes, then went for a noodle in another open area under the bridge where oldies from the market gather every night to perform a Thai version of tai chi.
‘You are here early this morning,’ said the woman who owns the noodle stand. ‘Can’t you sleep?’
Yesterday, she saw me sitting at a table, head in hands. The noodle woman knew what I was thinking.
‘Thai politics – don’t think too much, it’s not worth it,’ she said.
School-aged youngsters were gathered at tables around me. Some had brought their motorbikes. Others were still whizzing about, three or four youngsters to a bike.
They whipped past me as I sat eating my noodle. If I had moved my arm a little to the right, a passing bike would have hit me.
The bikes roar, of course, but no one seems fussed. At this hour of the day, people in the market are used to it being taken over by Thai youth.
And they were indeed everywhere. Some gathered in small knots under the bridge, but most were walking – going where? To school, or back from it?
Others roared about on the street on bikes. They, too, were going places, though I have no idea where. One group of youngsters sitting on a bike passed a youth sitting on the sidewalk with a girl. He had dyed his hair blond, and looked like he might be part of the local ‘element’.
The boys on the bike called out a greeting.
‘There’s too many on your bike...ai-sat [an unlovely expletive]...you’ll crash and die,’ he replied.
About 20-30 youngsters in uniform were waiting on my side of the road for buses, vans, and tuk tuk. As I walked through the market, I saw another large group on the other side of the road, waiting for buses to take them somewhere else.
One stream of youngsters was walking up a street from a local school. A few were heading on motorbikes in the direction of a secondary school attached to a local temple.
And as I returned to the relative peace of my condo, I shared a lift with four or five female secondary students, clutching school papers and bags.
I had no idea that my market could be so lively at 8am. The next time my internet goes down, I shall have to expose myself to it again.
"It’s a staple part of their vocabulary, along with other vulgarisms such as ‘ee-sut’, ‘mueng’, and ‘koo’"
ReplyDeleteI hate the way it sounds, even in my vocabulary I rarely say it. Actually I don't say it at all.
"I have heard adult males refer to their willies as ‘juu (จู๋),’ which is also the word for ’small’ but which I think sounds like a child’s word. My little juu!
If you heard a man talk like that, would you still think he was a man?"
I wouldn't know. Sadly, I rarely speak my language. My asian friends come from different backgrounds: Cambodian, vietnamese, hmong, etc. Our shared language is english.
I wouldn't think of him as less of a man, I would just laugh.
Yes, I didn't want to get too serious about the suggestion that he appears less of a man because he uses a kid's word for 'small' to refer to his penis.
ReplyDeleteBut to my ear it would still sound odd, given that for many westerners, being a man is synonymous with big, hairy, and strong.
In some parts of the world, a man is not considered really manly unless he has hung upside down off a tall mountain peak in snowy conditions.
I am sure he would have us all think he could hang off the summit by his willy, too, though I doubt that even action-adventurer types have penises that are that big.