Sleepy visit back to the market

A long-tailed boat speeding down the canal

Life in the Thon Buri market where Maiyuu and I lived until 18 months ago is a sleepy affair.

I travelled there by bus the other day, my second visit in a week to see the dentist. 

A canal passes through the town, known as Talad Phlu. It is one of the oldest residential areas in the city, going back more than 230 years.

Once, it was home to a thriving goods and fresh market run by Chinese traders.

Every day, hundreds of trading boats passed this way, or docked at tiny wharves dotting the rim of the canal.

Today, the pace of life has slowed. Villagers in straw hats, hawking anything from home-made goods to cold beers paddle lazily across the canal on small square boats with a raised front.

They look like midget versions of the boats found at floating markets. The villagers are waiting for tourists in long-tailed boats - probably the biggest remaining source of commerce on the canal - to pass by on sight-seeing trips from the city.

Most long-tailed boats slow down to let the traders come alongside.The traders paddle across from the river banks and meet the long-tailed boats in the middle of the canal. They offer tourists drinks and snacks. When their transaction is complete, the traders push themselves away from the bigger boats, and the tourists carry on with their journey.

Trader selling food from his boat

Once, when we lived at this market, I took myself down to the canal daily to look at its sights.

While some long-tailed boats take their time, letting the tourists who hire them soak up the sights, others roar past.

I watched as youngsters playing about in the brown water perched themselves on a cement pole in middle of the canal. When the speedier tourist boats swept past, throwing up plumes of water in their wake, they gave their farang occupants the thumbs up.

Nearby, old men slept by the canal edge on green wooden seats.

Shortly before we left, workers from the local body office landscaped the canal area, and put up signs, in English and Thai, explaining the market’s origins.

Talad Phlu pier

The Chinese traders who carried out their business in those olden times settled locally, on the banks of the Bangkok Yai, or Bang Luang, canal.

When the capital city moved from Thon Buri across the Chao Phraya River to Bangkok in 1782, many of the Chinese re-settled to the Sampeng and Yaowarat areas.

Muslims took their place, and grew and farmed betel trees.

Today no betel trees remain. Nor do many traders visit, but for those villagers on small boats selling goods to tourists.

One exception is an ice-cream seller, a man in his 60s with a brown, leathery face who I remember from the days we lived here.

His boat has a small outboard motor. He sits under a large umbrella, with large aluminium tubs of home-made ice-cream by his side.

The man putt-putts about, criss-crossing the canal as he rings a bell to attract the attention of canalside folk in need of an ice-cream to cool them down. If you live by the canal, he will pull right up by your home while he fills you a cone.

The betel traders may have gone, though the market's Muslim influence remains, and the market can still pull visitors from town.

Left, above: Scenes from a Muslim food festival

Today, it is famous mainly for its traditional Thai desserts. Maiyuu used to send me on errands to these old sweet shops when he wanted a taste of their famous pumpkin custard, or perhaps their foi thong (sweet shredded egg yolk).

Right, above: Thai-style desserts

Some of the traders have been here for years. Few, however, can boast the staying power of local restaurant Mee Krob Jeen Lee, which dates from the time of King Rama V, more than 120 years ago.

One of the better known dessert shops, on the right

Moo Krob Jeen Lee restaurant

It is popular with middle-class women of Chinese descent, who travel down the river from Bangkok for a leisurely lunch.

As I watched, 15 or so women finished up their meal at the restaurant, and tottered back to their waiting ferry.

Before I saw the dentist, I also dropped in to a shophouse where I used to buy my alcohol supply.

The middle-aged woman who runs it was absent, but I spoke to her children, who remembered me.

Her daughter, aged 20, was a student at a local school last time I saw her, but now travels into town to attend university. She and her younger brother were minding shop.

'I have an aunt in the US. I would like to apply for a visa and visit her,' she said.

The shop sits alongside a railway line, which in turn runs alongside the condo where Maiyuu and I lived for more than eight years.

So many times, I longed for the railway to close, as it was a constant source of irritation and noise.

The railway, however, is as much a part of this place as the canal and even the market itself. In the end, it outlasted me.

Talad Phlu railway station