I wrote this little account about my Homestay with a Thai family whilst I was on my in-country 6 weeks overseas study portion of my Asian Studies Degree at Mahidol University in Bangkok in Jan 2004. Just sitting on my computer since then, thought I would just start sharing pieces I've written, so enjoy (maybe you will be compelled to visit Thailand.. or maybe not.. after this..)
_________________________________________________
You could send me all around the world blind-folded
and I would know when I got off in Thailand. There is this unmistakable mixture of incense, rotten
durian, sweat and soot that seeps into every pore as you step off the plane
into the fan forced oven that is Bangkok.
Bangkok. The real name in Thai is
actually four lines long and in a nut shell means City Of Angels. Personally I
would call it City of Mangy Dogs.
There are quite possibly more dogs than people. And don’t be fooled – they are not
cute. A fellow student had the
unfortunate experience of finding herself in hospital for three months of
rabies treatments after getting a little close to one of the stray mutts. I fear the dogs have hustled every last
Angel out of town – and I would soon follow, in search of a kind of peace that
cannot be found amidst the honking horns of Bangkok’s streets.
The purpose of this trip was for me to study Thai
language at Mahidol University. I spent the first two weeks on the usual
tourist track, bargaining at the night markets of Khao San Road and Pat Pong
surrounded by ‘Go-Go Boy’ and ‘Super Pussy.’ Somewhere between baggage claim and a lap dance I felt I had
forfeited my student visa for unabashed sex tourist. In search of a little culture mixed with some tanning
opportunities, I headed for the closest beach on my map, Pattaya, and soon
learnt you should always read the guide book before getting to your destination. Looking out towards the southern islands – oh yes – I had
found my glorious beach – sparkling aqua water and not a cloud in the sky - but
if you don’t like your views obstructed by overweight, middle-aged men in
g-strings, then I suggest you steer clear.
After reciting my Pattaya experience to one of the
teachers - aghast - she hurriedly organised
a home-stay weekend for the three of us Aussie students, out in the countryside with a traditional Thai family – as far
away from nudey bars as possible.
I was sent to one of Thailand’s oldest regions, Nakhon Pathom, home to the first and tallest pagoda (or chedi)
in the country, some 56km north-west of Bangkok.
Thai people are well known for being proud of their
food. As we drove in our mini-bus
through the province, I became aware that Nakhon Pathom’s obsession was fruit,
in particular, pomelo, an ancient ancestor of the grapefruit. Every which way I
looked - large green soccer ball sized fruit was lined up on roadside stalls.
How fitting then, that we should meet our adoptive
parents at one of the largest food markets in town, Don Waay Market. It was just as loud as Pat Pong, and
definitely just as pungent – but not a Gucci handbag, Armani belt or pirated CD
to be seen. Phew! Our new mother and father introduced us to many of the stall
owners and we were offered plenty of delicacies. Jackfruit, my personal
favourite, is the largest of any tree-borne fruit at about 36 inches long and
20 inches wide. Its flesh is
bright orange, peeled off the inner bulbs of the fruit like rings of grated
cheese. Khao Lam, a mixture of sticky rice with coconut milk that is grilled in
a bamboo trunk, and of course – the famous pomelo.
Our Thai parents were highly respected members of
the community (I am convinced it is because they own a pomelo orchard) and
invited us to accompany them to a funeral service on the Friday evening where
they were to make offerings to the soul of the deceased. A Buddhist funeral is not exactly as
morbid as you may think. Not only
is the entire shrine extremely colourful, filled with golden Buddha statues,
pink lotus flowers and offerings of food – but a row of monks sit inside the
shrine and chant (loudly I may add) whilst the congregation sits on collapsible
deck chairs outside peering in on the ceremony. Of course in true Nakhon Pathom fashion, we were served a
three course meal in between chants and prayers. I was somewhat surprised to see that no pomelo was served,
and even more surprised that at least 10 mobile phones rang during the service
– and completely dumbfounded when each phone was answered. It would appear the funeral is a rather
casual affair.
So, one of my fellow students and I decided to take
a look around the markets next door during a snack break. All shut. And all quiet.
Eerily quiet. By the time
we had weaved our way out to the other side, I couldn’t hear a monk chanting or
even a mobile phone ringing. Dead
silence. That is definitely
something you do not get in the nation’s capital. We stepped round the corner of one of the buildings into an
empty car park. I could feel
something lurking nearby. We crept
up towards a wharf, jolting out over the murky canals in the moonlight. And there it was. I froze. The one thing I had feared running into since stepping foot
off the plane four weeks earlier.
But there it was, not three metres from me. Not one of the rabies infested stray dogs that had wandered
up from Bangkok. Much worse. A chicken.
Most of Asia has had its fair share of disease
scares, having devastating effects on the tourist industry. Typhoid, SARS, dengue fever – and while
I was there – face to face with a chicken, Thailand just happened to be
suffering from a fatal epidemic of bird flu. I was not comforted in any way by President Thaksin’s
compensation of a million baht to any family who suffered a death from eating
what he believed to be well cooked chicken. For one, this bird was not cooked. It still had feathers.
And it was walking - towards me.
My friend and I stood still, eyeing each other trying not to scare it
into a full blown chicken attack.
On the count of three, we both turned and ran for our lives.
We met back with our Thai family ready to board
their long boat (the only means of transport) to get to their house along the
canal. On the way I am devoured by
mosquitoes – my anxiety rises again, first chickens now mosquitoes – until I am
assured that malaria (along with the angels) have migrated and settled
somewhere far away up north.
