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Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
A New Traditional Christmas With Love From Bangkok
Dear Ones:
Every Christmas in Jamaica we had fruitcake. Friends gave us theirs and Mom made hers. Every baker made her fruitcake differently; some were spicy others sticky and fruity, some were like puddings while others were like moist dark cakes, but all were caressed by the smooth under-notes of brandy or rum.
Naturally, I baked a fruitcake at Christmastime too. I would start soaking the fruits in wine in early November. The finished product was baked in a bain marie. But Andy and the kids always pronounced the result "too sweet." Indignantly, I would say, that's how it's supposed to taste. The fruitcakes invariably ended up in the freezer and after ten months, in the trash. I finally ditched the fruitcake from my Christmas Table--there are some traditions that are dispensable. But there's room for some new ones too.
This year I am giving away home-made baked goods as gifts. On my to-give list: Whole Lotta Nuts Granola, Mexican Wedding Cakes, Cherry Garcia Cookies, Chocolate Loaf Cake, Banana Tea Bread, and Pound Cake Classic and Brown Sugar.
As I was baking, I was thinking of absent family and friends, people who live thousands of miles away but who are always near and dear to me. Taranee, Mom and Dad, and my sisters and brothers, all my nieces, nephews, and cousins, and all our friends in Canada and in the States. But we had our losses too, for in two weeks this spring, four lights were diminished: we miss you Titi, Aunt Veda, Mrs. Wong Ken, and Florence. I felt diminished too, and deeply aware of the preciousness of each and every one of us.
Once I guarded my recipes as if they were secrets, but I've learned that if you give away something you love, you get back so much more in return. So I'd like to share with you all a virtual gift, a recipe from my new Traditional Christmas: Whole Lotta Nuts Granola. I'm sharing it with you because a friend shared it with me. This recipe is the perfect virtual Christmas gift. So, make it, eat it, and share the recipe.
Whole Lotta Nuts Granola
A week ago Mimi gave me a bag of almonds in the shell. While I was wondering what to do with them, Thavida gave me this recipe for granola. She had kitchen-tested it herself, saying that it is as easy to make as it is delicious. It is. Absolutely! As it bakes, the granola has the most wonderful cinnamon-vanilla smell; it fills up my kitchen and permeates my heart with its honest goodness.
Ingredients
1/2 cup slivered almonds [My note: I'm using a cup of whole almonds]
1/4 cup pumpkin seeds or sunflower seeds
1/4 cup chopped walnuts (or pecans or pine nuts)
1/2 cup unsweetened flaked coconuts [Thavida's note: I never include this.] [Me, too.]
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/3 cup honey
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup raisins or chopped apricot or dates
1/2 cup dried cranberries or blueberries or cherries (or a combination)
Preparation
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F
On a large baking sheet, spread the granola evenly in a thin layer. Bake, stirring every 5 minutes to keep from sticking or burning, until golden brown and crisp, about 20 minutes. (Do not overcook, the granola will crisp more when cooled.) Cool the granola in the pan on top of the stove and stir in dried fruit.
Granola can be kept in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 1 week.
Serve at room temperature in a bowl with milk or as a snack. [Sprinkle it on top of home-made Greek-style yogurt with a drizzle of honey. ]
Walk good,
Andy, Jo Anne, Taranee, and AJ
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Letters from Thailand, Revisited: New Year in Bangkok
When I look back, I see what happened and what had been. In Thai politics today, the yellow shirts and the red shirts still have not resolved their differences. Rather closer to family, Titi has left us behind in this world and we still miss him terribly; and though Mama is brimming with good health it is no use to a mind ravaged by Alzheimer's. And there is still apprehension, perhaps inevitably, for the future. The year 2010 is uncertain for many of us who do not have jobs or who will soon be out of work. Let us have hope, then, that determination will keep us going forward, one step at a time, eyes ever on the far horizon.
This letter was written Monday, January 1, 2007.
Dear Ones,
For New Year's, Andy had planned a sumptuous Chinese banquet dinner at one of the best Chinese restaurants in one of the hotels in Bangkok. Andy, AJ, Taranee, and I were all dressed and ready to go at 6:30 p.m. when the neighbors from across the street, Koong and Khun Sanan, stopped us and said, you shouldn't go, haven't you heard about the bombings?
Right away, we checked the internet and the TV stations. CNN didn't interrupt their regular programming but the Thai stations were carrying live reports. According to the bangkokpost.com and the nationmultimedia.com, at sundown on New Year's Eve, 6 bombs were detonated around the city. As a result, two people died and at least a dozen were injured. One bomb went off at Seacon Square, the mall near us, and another went off at a police box at the freeway entrance nearest our house. Luckily, no one was hurt by those two explosions, but other people weren't so lucky at the Victory Monument and the Klong Toey Market. The Bangkok Governor cancelled the New Year's celebrations at the plaza at Central World. So, reluctantly, we decided to stay in and not go out. We didn't go hungry though, as I made us a light supper of turkey hash on toasted home-made whole wheat bread.
This morning when we woke up, we found out that other bombs had detonated after midnight. This time, some foreign tourists were injured. We're still at home and don't feel like going out, especially to any place crowded. We're scheduled to go over to Mama's house to have New Year's dinner with her and with Mimi, YJ, and Mikey. Titi, Lek, and Nicky went to Chiang Rai for the holiday.
The bourse is closed for New Year's and will not re-open until January 3rd. Andy is expecting the stock exchange to suffer huge losses as a result of the bombings. No one has claimed responsibility. Despite the four-year-old insurgency in the Muslim majority provinces in the south, there have been no bombings in Bangkok--until now. However, the newspapers have suggested that those responsible could be the supporters of the former prime minister. They have denied it. Needless to say, the mood in the city is uncertain. From feeling relatively safe, Bangkok residents are beginning to understand what life must be like for those people living in the southern provinces, where nearly 2,000 people have died in the insurgency.
And so 2007 begins on a somber note in Bangkok. The end of 2006 was not all a loss, as we counted our blessings. Taranee and AJ are here safe with us to spend the holidays. However, Andy's mother suffered a stroke in early December but has made a near-complete recovery. She had to spend Christmas in the hospital so the family rallied around her and celebrated Christmas at the hospital with her. We made her room feel like home with photographs of the family and a little Christmas tree that we decorated with glass balls and a gilded poinsettia for a star. Taranee, Nicky, and I made tiny origami cranes and boxes for its branches.
We decided not to have a Christmas party this year but I made roast turkey with all the fixins' anyway, and packed up dinners for Titi and his family, and Mimi and her family. I also packed a small dinner for Mama. On Christmas Eve we all met in her room laden with gifts for the gift exchange. Mikey put on his Christmas elf hat and handed out pink piglets on a toggle chain. His mother explained that they were favors from China for the Year of the Pig. Mimi saw them at a wedding and asked the bride where she got them. It took her a month to order them from China. Each precious piglet had a tiny silver button in its head so that when you press it, the little pig grunted, "ribbit!"
While the pig-frog amused everybody, Andy played Santy Claus and handed out gifts to everyone, even the nurses were included. We left Mama in good spirits to go to the Christmas Vigil mass at Holy Redeemer Church on Soi Ruamrudee. It was crowded, and the overflow had to park in the Bangkok Assurance building's parking lot. That night there was a guitarist and a cantor instead of the Lady Slide's wavering soprano. We all sang, we wish you a merry Christmas, and indeed, we all felt warm and hopeful. We didn't have the Christmas breeze as we had in Jamaica, but the weather had turned suitably cool--in the 70s and 80s.
After Christmas, Andy, the kids, and I went to Haad Jao Samran (Master of Relaxation Beach) for two days of sun. We got a two bedroom villa at Fisherman's Village, a boutique resort in a small town that is not yet a tourist trap. It is still a sleepy fishing village; no high rise hotels have been built yet. Though we had American breakfast in the morning, we preferred to eat dinner at Grandmother's Restaurant where the seafood was fresh and the service was friendly. Andy liked the waiter's ingenuity. When he complained that the dipping sauce wasn't to his liking, the boy brought another him one; you'll like this one, he promised. Andy was impressed; he should sell cars, he decided.
Mama came home just before the New Year's holiday began to continue her convalescence with a round-the-clock nurse and visits from the physical and occupational therapists. Somehow Titi and the driver Nate managed to carry her upstairs to her room. (I didn't ask, I didn't want to know.) The children went all out to make her homecoming as comfortable and as stress-free as possible. Mama, for her part, calmly accepted her limitations including the accoutrements that come with being an invalid: the hospital bed, the wheelchair, the hated walker, and the porta-potty chair. Mimi found her a hospital bed that has all kinds of bells and whistles including the miraculous ability of managing NOT to look (so much) like a hospital bed.
So New Year's celebrations are going to be low-key, like Christmas. But we are going to count our blessings again. We are all happy and healthy. This evening, we will go over to Mama's for dinner with Mimi and her family. For dessert, I have baked a cheesecake topped with glazed fresh mango and kiwi.
Maybe 2007 has begun with uncertainty, but we will not lose hope that there will be peace and harmony again in the Land of the Thai.
Walk good,
Jo Anne
This letter was written Monday, January 1, 2007.
Dear Ones,
For New Year's, Andy had planned a sumptuous Chinese banquet dinner at one of the best Chinese restaurants in one of the hotels in Bangkok. Andy, AJ, Taranee, and I were all dressed and ready to go at 6:30 p.m. when the neighbors from across the street, Koong and Khun Sanan, stopped us and said, you shouldn't go, haven't you heard about the bombings?
Right away, we checked the internet and the TV stations. CNN didn't interrupt their regular programming but the Thai stations were carrying live reports. According to the bangkokpost.com and the nationmultimedia.com, at sundown on New Year's Eve, 6 bombs were detonated around the city. As a result, two people died and at least a dozen were injured. One bomb went off at Seacon Square, the mall near us, and another went off at a police box at the freeway entrance nearest our house. Luckily, no one was hurt by those two explosions, but other people weren't so lucky at the Victory Monument and the Klong Toey Market. The Bangkok Governor cancelled the New Year's celebrations at the plaza at Central World. So, reluctantly, we decided to stay in and not go out. We didn't go hungry though, as I made us a light supper of turkey hash on toasted home-made whole wheat bread.
This morning when we woke up, we found out that other bombs had detonated after midnight. This time, some foreign tourists were injured. We're still at home and don't feel like going out, especially to any place crowded. We're scheduled to go over to Mama's house to have New Year's dinner with her and with Mimi, YJ, and Mikey. Titi, Lek, and Nicky went to Chiang Rai for the holiday.
The bourse is closed for New Year's and will not re-open until January 3rd. Andy is expecting the stock exchange to suffer huge losses as a result of the bombings. No one has claimed responsibility. Despite the four-year-old insurgency in the Muslim majority provinces in the south, there have been no bombings in Bangkok--until now. However, the newspapers have suggested that those responsible could be the supporters of the former prime minister. They have denied it. Needless to say, the mood in the city is uncertain. From feeling relatively safe, Bangkok residents are beginning to understand what life must be like for those people living in the southern provinces, where nearly 2,000 people have died in the insurgency.
And so 2007 begins on a somber note in Bangkok. The end of 2006 was not all a loss, as we counted our blessings. Taranee and AJ are here safe with us to spend the holidays. However, Andy's mother suffered a stroke in early December but has made a near-complete recovery. She had to spend Christmas in the hospital so the family rallied around her and celebrated Christmas at the hospital with her. We made her room feel like home with photographs of the family and a little Christmas tree that we decorated with glass balls and a gilded poinsettia for a star. Taranee, Nicky, and I made tiny origami cranes and boxes for its branches.
We decided not to have a Christmas party this year but I made roast turkey with all the fixins' anyway, and packed up dinners for Titi and his family, and Mimi and her family. I also packed a small dinner for Mama. On Christmas Eve we all met in her room laden with gifts for the gift exchange. Mikey put on his Christmas elf hat and handed out pink piglets on a toggle chain. His mother explained that they were favors from China for the Year of the Pig. Mimi saw them at a wedding and asked the bride where she got them. It took her a month to order them from China. Each precious piglet had a tiny silver button in its head so that when you press it, the little pig grunted, "ribbit!"
While the pig-frog amused everybody, Andy played Santy Claus and handed out gifts to everyone, even the nurses were included. We left Mama in good spirits to go to the Christmas Vigil mass at Holy Redeemer Church on Soi Ruamrudee. It was crowded, and the overflow had to park in the Bangkok Assurance building's parking lot. That night there was a guitarist and a cantor instead of the Lady Slide's wavering soprano. We all sang, we wish you a merry Christmas, and indeed, we all felt warm and hopeful. We didn't have the Christmas breeze as we had in Jamaica, but the weather had turned suitably cool--in the 70s and 80s.
After Christmas, Andy, the kids, and I went to Haad Jao Samran (Master of Relaxation Beach) for two days of sun. We got a two bedroom villa at Fisherman's Village, a boutique resort in a small town that is not yet a tourist trap. It is still a sleepy fishing village; no high rise hotels have been built yet. Though we had American breakfast in the morning, we preferred to eat dinner at Grandmother's Restaurant where the seafood was fresh and the service was friendly. Andy liked the waiter's ingenuity. When he complained that the dipping sauce wasn't to his liking, the boy brought another him one; you'll like this one, he promised. Andy was impressed; he should sell cars, he decided.
Mama came home just before the New Year's holiday began to continue her convalescence with a round-the-clock nurse and visits from the physical and occupational therapists. Somehow Titi and the driver Nate managed to carry her upstairs to her room. (I didn't ask, I didn't want to know.) The children went all out to make her homecoming as comfortable and as stress-free as possible. Mama, for her part, calmly accepted her limitations including the accoutrements that come with being an invalid: the hospital bed, the wheelchair, the hated walker, and the porta-potty chair. Mimi found her a hospital bed that has all kinds of bells and whistles including the miraculous ability of managing NOT to look (so much) like a hospital bed.
So New Year's celebrations are going to be low-key, like Christmas. But we are going to count our blessings again. We are all happy and healthy. This evening, we will go over to Mama's for dinner with Mimi and her family. For dessert, I have baked a cheesecake topped with glazed fresh mango and kiwi.
Maybe 2007 has begun with uncertainty, but we will not lose hope that there will be peace and harmony again in the Land of the Thai.
Walk good,
Jo Anne
Letters from Thailand, Revisited: A Tale of Two Night Markets
Andy's golf clubs had been stolen from inside our yard. We suspected it was one of the saleng-men, rag-pickers who drive these modified motorcycles with big carts attached in front. They scour the neighborhoods of Bangkok looking for trash and discarded items to sell. Sometimes there are unexpected treasures... and opportunities. The golf pro had suggested to Andy that a good place to look for his stolen clubs might be the Thieves Market. This was originally posted Sunday November 12, 2006.
Dear Ones,
They say you can buy anything in Bangkok-- if you know where to look. But finding exactly what you desire is the challenge. There are innumerable nooks and crannies in the city where bargains can be had; if you have the time and the perseverance you can unearth treasures. At least that is the hope. An experience that began as a search for stolen property did not unearth many bargains but revealed glimpses of another world that co-exists with the one I know as "my" Bangkok...
The Thieves' Market is located in the older part of Bangkok behind Central Hospital in the Yaowarat or Chinatown area, in a street known as Klong Tom or Filled-in Canal. In the old days the street was a canal that had since been filled in, hence the name. The pro advised us to beware of pickpockets and purse-snatchers and to bring mag-lites because the market is only open from dusk on Saturday to dawn on Sunday. We stuffed our pockets with some cash and went to Church for the Saturday evening mass. Now that the rains are over, it promised to be a pleasant outing. The humid air was even stirred by a breeze, the promise of the cool season to come.
After mass, Andy and I parked the car at Suan Lum Night Bazaar between Rama IV and Wireless Roads. Then we took a taxi to Klong Tom. It turned out to be a neighborhood of two storey shop houses that make one street look the same as another. It's a well-known area, apparently, for we saw lots of people down there including a few curious foreigners. It's not the typical market foreigners like to frequent with the usual souvenirs and such. The market is ill-defined, being a maze of streets and side-lanes, some lighted, some not well-lighted, hence the need for a good strong flashlight. If you didn't have one or forgot to bring it, you could buy a flashlight from the vendor on the street corner. For about Baht 100 or less than US$3.00 a small flashlight comes with batteries installed plus an extra set. Thus we were prepared for our foray into the Thieves' Market. They say that one man's junk is another man's treasure.
We saw things that literally fell off the back of a truck. Indeed, we saw a row of trucks, tailgates down and their contents emptied onto the sidewalk, parked outside Bangkok Bank. The bank was closed for the weekend and the sidewalk was torn up for renovation. Undaunted, the vendors lined the sandy sidewalk next to stacks of paving stones with tarps and tables. Some surprisingly heavy items were on the sidewalks: ceramic toilets and urinals looking like new. On a table, were electric water heaters still in the box. On another table or on the tarps spread on the ground were collectibles like rusty Coca cola trays, embossed English biscuit tins, old books and magazines, costume jewelry, hurricane lamps, and an exquisitely delicate glass sconce on a chain.
The main street of the market was busy with food sellers and vendors selling just about everything salvaged elsewhere including the kitchen sink I saw a man carrying with him. There were dynamos, shoes (Was that somebody's Birkenstocks?), piles of cell phone cases, cell phones wrapped in plastic, DVD players, TV sets including a new flatscreen, and just a few tables down, TV remotes without the TV, and a completely useless UBC cable remote that wouldn't work without a cable subscription. I swear we saw our old Sony radio-cassette player for sale; anything that could be bought can be sold. The market was buoyed by an optimism that there could be a buyer--sooner or later.
In the middle of the main market were refrigerators for sale; on the sidewalk there were boxes of masking tape and cello-tape, and screwdrivers small and large, and mag-lites big enough and heavy enough to comfort a nervous security guard afraid of the dark. There were novelty items to gross out your friends, like the plastic rat in a plastic water bottle . The market was hot and crowded, so if you wanted to cool down you could order a smoothie. A motorcyclist patiently waited for his order. The seller deftly dipped into an insulated cooler of ice and scooped out just the right amount without looking.The smoothie was neatly poured into a plastic cup with a dome lid. The finishing touch: add a straw and put it into one of those ubiquitous plastic bags with loops that are just the right size to slide on the handle bars. Sip on the go.
The golf pro had told us that the good stuff is often hidden from view. We saw some golf clubs poking out from under a tarp in a side-soi. Andy asked a man sitting nearby if they were for sale; the man said, the seller isn't here. I saw a necklace of enamelled beads with a silver clasp. It was definitely Thai. I asked how much and got the same short reply, the seller isn't here. Perhaps they were wary of us. In fact, Andy said later that the clubs on display in the open were old. The good stuff was nowhere--in plain view that is. Andy contented himself with a cheap pair of leather sandals and some golf tees.
I saw another insulated cooler like the smoothie seller's. A woman was sitting next to it and fanning whatever was inside it. I peered inside and was surprised to see there was a baby instead of ice. So this was its cradle. Briefly, I met the mother's eyes and she did not smile, her eyes as wide as a cat's in the dark. She seemed young and vulnerable and at the same time, she had an unabashed look of experience that was as difficult to comprehend as it was difficult to look her in the eye. We were both women and mothers, but so many things divide us; chiefly, social class, education, and language. Where was her husband? Why did she have to bring her baby to the market? Always interested in narratives, I wondered what her story was.
Andy and I were attracted by the smell of food cooking at a cookshop two blocks away from the bank. At the corner of the street across from the cookshop, we saw two sa-lengs pulled up to the curb and a pick-up parked nearby. It was unlikely one of them was the sa-leng driver in our soi. And even if he was, I don't think I could recognize him if I saw him again. One barely notices sa-lengs and their drivers. Something on the floor-bed of the pick-up truck was covered with a tarpaulin. We did not ask. Instead, we crossed the street where we found a table inside the cookshop. I thought I wasn't hungry but the good food smell woke up my appetite. I ordered fried rice with crab and Andy ordered two bowls of noodles. With two Cokes, the whole bill came up to Baht 160 a little less than US$5.00.
An old man came into the shop carrying a heavy tin bucket over his arm. He lifted the lid to show us tiny grass cakes and fried fish balls neatly arranged inside. In a smaller bucket on his other arm he carried the sauces. Andy spoke to him in Thai but the man raised his voice in Chinese. Andy switched to Teo Chiu and the man went away. I was curious about the old man. Andy said he probably lived all his life in Chinatown and never learned Thai. Like Papa and Mama who learned enough Thai to get by, the old man was from this older generation that never needed to be proficient or literate in Thai since they worked for Chinese-owned businesses. I thought, Just as I teach in an international school and never needed to learn Thai. Some things don't change.
An air of furtive mystery hung over the bustling market. It was a place stocked with humanity looking for a bargain and to make a baht under cover of night. There was none of the conviviality I'd come to expect at other markets like Narayana Phand or at Chatuchak. There, Andy could joke with the vendors and cajole them into lowering their prices. Here at Klong Tom, this was pure business, and you'd best look sharply, peering into the dark with the aid of a mag-lite spotlight on the goods. To me, the night market at Klong Tom was a door into an underworld culture of thieves, middle-men, desperate housewives, old men with spent dreams, and hucksters on the make.
We took another taxi back uptown to where the sights were more familiar: the Thai-Belgian Friendship Bridge, Lumpini Park, and the glass and steel towers clustered around Silom, Sathorn, and Sukhumvit that comprise the business district. It was late but tourists and locals still mingled at Suan Lum Night Bazaar. Built at the intersection of two busy roads, Suan Lum was once a training school for army cadets until it was sold to a businessman who turned it into a gaudy bazaar and entertainment complex.
Here the goods were for an upscale clietele also hunting for a bargain in the humid night. There were no salvaged dynamos or toilets or sinks. Nothing fell off a truck here. Hence, there was no need for dim lighting or mag-lites. There were rattan baskets and CD cases made out of palm thatch and clever lamps made out of wood, paper, and string. In the shops here there were elegantly packaged cotton-covered cushions, embroidered shirts, and toys for a pampered pet.
Suan Lum is a little bit of Chatuchak and Narayana Phand jumbled together with bars, restaurants, and a trendy internet coffee cafe. A bit of this, a bit of that, a bit of East and West. Pastiche and synergy. Still the same optimism of that other night market though, that a buyer will walk in and part happily with his/her money.
Earlier in the evening Mercedes Benz held a car show in the concert hall. Owning a Mercedes is a fantasy for most. At Klong Tom though there were no such fantasies. Fantasies are luxuries that don't feed the family. As we walked past the darkened hall to where we had parked our car, we detected a whiff of ganja in the humid air. It smelled like defiance to me...
Walk good,
Jo Anne
Dear Ones,
They say you can buy anything in Bangkok-- if you know where to look. But finding exactly what you desire is the challenge. There are innumerable nooks and crannies in the city where bargains can be had; if you have the time and the perseverance you can unearth treasures. At least that is the hope. An experience that began as a search for stolen property did not unearth many bargains but revealed glimpses of another world that co-exists with the one I know as "my" Bangkok...
The Thieves' Market is located in the older part of Bangkok behind Central Hospital in the Yaowarat or Chinatown area, in a street known as Klong Tom or Filled-in Canal. In the old days the street was a canal that had since been filled in, hence the name. The pro advised us to beware of pickpockets and purse-snatchers and to bring mag-lites because the market is only open from dusk on Saturday to dawn on Sunday. We stuffed our pockets with some cash and went to Church for the Saturday evening mass. Now that the rains are over, it promised to be a pleasant outing. The humid air was even stirred by a breeze, the promise of the cool season to come.
After mass, Andy and I parked the car at Suan Lum Night Bazaar between Rama IV and Wireless Roads. Then we took a taxi to Klong Tom. It turned out to be a neighborhood of two storey shop houses that make one street look the same as another. It's a well-known area, apparently, for we saw lots of people down there including a few curious foreigners. It's not the typical market foreigners like to frequent with the usual souvenirs and such. The market is ill-defined, being a maze of streets and side-lanes, some lighted, some not well-lighted, hence the need for a good strong flashlight. If you didn't have one or forgot to bring it, you could buy a flashlight from the vendor on the street corner. For about Baht 100 or less than US$3.00 a small flashlight comes with batteries installed plus an extra set. Thus we were prepared for our foray into the Thieves' Market. They say that one man's junk is another man's treasure.
We saw things that literally fell off the back of a truck. Indeed, we saw a row of trucks, tailgates down and their contents emptied onto the sidewalk, parked outside Bangkok Bank. The bank was closed for the weekend and the sidewalk was torn up for renovation. Undaunted, the vendors lined the sandy sidewalk next to stacks of paving stones with tarps and tables. Some surprisingly heavy items were on the sidewalks: ceramic toilets and urinals looking like new. On a table, were electric water heaters still in the box. On another table or on the tarps spread on the ground were collectibles like rusty Coca cola trays, embossed English biscuit tins, old books and magazines, costume jewelry, hurricane lamps, and an exquisitely delicate glass sconce on a chain.
The main street of the market was busy with food sellers and vendors selling just about everything salvaged elsewhere including the kitchen sink I saw a man carrying with him. There were dynamos, shoes (Was that somebody's Birkenstocks?), piles of cell phone cases, cell phones wrapped in plastic, DVD players, TV sets including a new flatscreen, and just a few tables down, TV remotes without the TV, and a completely useless UBC cable remote that wouldn't work without a cable subscription. I swear we saw our old Sony radio-cassette player for sale; anything that could be bought can be sold. The market was buoyed by an optimism that there could be a buyer--sooner or later.
In the middle of the main market were refrigerators for sale; on the sidewalk there were boxes of masking tape and cello-tape, and screwdrivers small and large, and mag-lites big enough and heavy enough to comfort a nervous security guard afraid of the dark. There were novelty items to gross out your friends, like the plastic rat in a plastic water bottle . The market was hot and crowded, so if you wanted to cool down you could order a smoothie. A motorcyclist patiently waited for his order. The seller deftly dipped into an insulated cooler of ice and scooped out just the right amount without looking.The smoothie was neatly poured into a plastic cup with a dome lid. The finishing touch: add a straw and put it into one of those ubiquitous plastic bags with loops that are just the right size to slide on the handle bars. Sip on the go.
The golf pro had told us that the good stuff is often hidden from view. We saw some golf clubs poking out from under a tarp in a side-soi. Andy asked a man sitting nearby if they were for sale; the man said, the seller isn't here. I saw a necklace of enamelled beads with a silver clasp. It was definitely Thai. I asked how much and got the same short reply, the seller isn't here. Perhaps they were wary of us. In fact, Andy said later that the clubs on display in the open were old. The good stuff was nowhere--in plain view that is. Andy contented himself with a cheap pair of leather sandals and some golf tees.
I saw another insulated cooler like the smoothie seller's. A woman was sitting next to it and fanning whatever was inside it. I peered inside and was surprised to see there was a baby instead of ice. So this was its cradle. Briefly, I met the mother's eyes and she did not smile, her eyes as wide as a cat's in the dark. She seemed young and vulnerable and at the same time, she had an unabashed look of experience that was as difficult to comprehend as it was difficult to look her in the eye. We were both women and mothers, but so many things divide us; chiefly, social class, education, and language. Where was her husband? Why did she have to bring her baby to the market? Always interested in narratives, I wondered what her story was.
Andy and I were attracted by the smell of food cooking at a cookshop two blocks away from the bank. At the corner of the street across from the cookshop, we saw two sa-lengs pulled up to the curb and a pick-up parked nearby. It was unlikely one of them was the sa-leng driver in our soi. And even if he was, I don't think I could recognize him if I saw him again. One barely notices sa-lengs and their drivers. Something on the floor-bed of the pick-up truck was covered with a tarpaulin. We did not ask. Instead, we crossed the street where we found a table inside the cookshop. I thought I wasn't hungry but the good food smell woke up my appetite. I ordered fried rice with crab and Andy ordered two bowls of noodles. With two Cokes, the whole bill came up to Baht 160 a little less than US$5.00.
An old man came into the shop carrying a heavy tin bucket over his arm. He lifted the lid to show us tiny grass cakes and fried fish balls neatly arranged inside. In a smaller bucket on his other arm he carried the sauces. Andy spoke to him in Thai but the man raised his voice in Chinese. Andy switched to Teo Chiu and the man went away. I was curious about the old man. Andy said he probably lived all his life in Chinatown and never learned Thai. Like Papa and Mama who learned enough Thai to get by, the old man was from this older generation that never needed to be proficient or literate in Thai since they worked for Chinese-owned businesses. I thought, Just as I teach in an international school and never needed to learn Thai. Some things don't change.
An air of furtive mystery hung over the bustling market. It was a place stocked with humanity looking for a bargain and to make a baht under cover of night. There was none of the conviviality I'd come to expect at other markets like Narayana Phand or at Chatuchak. There, Andy could joke with the vendors and cajole them into lowering their prices. Here at Klong Tom, this was pure business, and you'd best look sharply, peering into the dark with the aid of a mag-lite spotlight on the goods. To me, the night market at Klong Tom was a door into an underworld culture of thieves, middle-men, desperate housewives, old men with spent dreams, and hucksters on the make.
We took another taxi back uptown to where the sights were more familiar: the Thai-Belgian Friendship Bridge, Lumpini Park, and the glass and steel towers clustered around Silom, Sathorn, and Sukhumvit that comprise the business district. It was late but tourists and locals still mingled at Suan Lum Night Bazaar. Built at the intersection of two busy roads, Suan Lum was once a training school for army cadets until it was sold to a businessman who turned it into a gaudy bazaar and entertainment complex.
Here the goods were for an upscale clietele also hunting for a bargain in the humid night. There were no salvaged dynamos or toilets or sinks. Nothing fell off a truck here. Hence, there was no need for dim lighting or mag-lites. There were rattan baskets and CD cases made out of palm thatch and clever lamps made out of wood, paper, and string. In the shops here there were elegantly packaged cotton-covered cushions, embroidered shirts, and toys for a pampered pet.
Suan Lum is a little bit of Chatuchak and Narayana Phand jumbled together with bars, restaurants, and a trendy internet coffee cafe. A bit of this, a bit of that, a bit of East and West. Pastiche and synergy. Still the same optimism of that other night market though, that a buyer will walk in and part happily with his/her money.
Earlier in the evening Mercedes Benz held a car show in the concert hall. Owning a Mercedes is a fantasy for most. At Klong Tom though there were no such fantasies. Fantasies are luxuries that don't feed the family. As we walked past the darkened hall to where we had parked our car, we detected a whiff of ganja in the humid air. It smelled like defiance to me...
Walk good,
Jo Anne
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