A Retrospective
Part One— Dismal or Delightful Beginnings…it’s all in how you crack open the Durian.
My journey to Thailand is not so unordinary.
About 10 years ago, I traveled with a tour group through Southeast Asia—the sort of thing that I guess I would be less interested in now, I suppose, because nowadays I prefer to travel alone.
Chiang Mai is perhaps where my love of Thailand started. Before then, I was too in awe of everything to really process an emotion behind it other than a deep joy. But love started in Chiang Mai. Bangkok was more of that awe, although I love the place equally now—it’s grown on me—the khlongs, the streets, the wild frenetic energy of a City Symphony in full swing. Almost, perhaps, able to hear the Trombones and Clarinets and Piano whistling away over the noise of Tuk Tuks, street vendors, massage girls crying out for a customer…oh, but back to Chiang Mai! After all, as I write this, I write from a guesthouse in that city. I’ve taken a short vacation from my day to day work as a teacher in Bangkok, and I’d like to enjoy it.
I sit here on this balcony. I’ve smoked a nice indica joint, poured myself some Cannabis tea, and I’m listening to J.J. Johnson and the band wailing away, the Jazz carrying down the street to the pizza vendor and the Silver Temple beyond that, where I am disrupting the air with my nonsense.
Actually, I doubt anyone outside the Guesthouse can hear. The owner’s daughter was just up to clean the room, but I told her ‘pruu-nii gawdai” (Tomorrow you can) and now I’m left with the small mess that I made.
As usual, I am hopelessly in love with a woman back in Bangkok, and trying to put the pieces together to see how to make it work. In the meantime—distraction, distraction! Oh but some wonderful Thai conversations with the lovely people I met. A few good English conversations too. A Bookstore owner to whom I think we both gave each other a free Dharma talk and a therapy session. A Weed Shop owner whom I told I might return to, for I was not in the mood for buying and was simply walking by. At the Sunday market, a long Thai conversation with a woman selling Crystal Balls—I bought a Jade one, and she suggested I hold it while in samahdi—meditation. I cannot deny that I was drawn to the object intensely, to the point that I told her I would be back for it, and returned no more than a few minutes later. I picked up a few other nice things at the market too—A Taxidermied Praying Mantis, a couple of fragrant soap bars, kitchen magnets to add to the travel collection, and for the belly—some Butterfly Pea with Lime Juice, which was delicious but terribly acidic, making my stomach rumble like the innards of Vesuvius.
And a Chalawan Beer on my way to the market! If you are familiar with the American brand of Stone IPA, it has a taste not unlike that, thick and heavy, but in many ways I think, I like it a bit more—also inasmuch as there is a Crocodile on the label, and a story about Crocodilian Witchcraft to go with it.
Crocodiles feature in a few Thai folktales, some transforming into beautiful people, like vampires or werewolves. I’m no expert in the field, but I’ve seen a few crocodiles here, and not just spinning on the rotisseries on Khao San Road!
I quickly realized however, that it would get difficult to find the beer again in the market, and so I resigned myself to that Butterfly Pea with Lime Juice, not wanting to drink a Chang, mix the beer in my belly, and risk adding a Chang-over as well to my troubles.
I finished last night at the Pizzeria below my accommodation. One more day here, then I am back to the hustle and bustle of Bangkok, back to work, back to the grind.
But as for the subject of this essay, let us discuss the Durian. Many farang (that is, foreigners) do not particularly like it. It took me two years to accept the Durian, five years to like the Durian, and seven years to love the Durian. I suspect in ten years, I will live and die for the Durian. Such is life.
In flavor, it is almost impossible to describe for me, although many have used all sorts of comparisons, none seem to suit my interpretation of the fruit. How do you describe the taste of an apple to someone who has never tried one? In consistency, it can be as tough as a potato or as soft as ice cream. It is expensive, by comparison to other fruits. A co-worker of mine has an even deeper commitment to it, and spends enough of his paycheck on it that he has to stop himself from buying too many sometimes. I would say, this year, perhaps inspired by him, I have eaten many a Durian after work. I’m sure I’ll have another soon.
My current interest at work is a spidery creature in the corner, that must own at least five cats. I call her my spider princess. She has become a sort of fascination to me. Coincidentally, I am reminded of a story I recently read, and the thought of it makes me laugh. Am I going mad? Of course not. I have gone mad and come out the other side already, where else mad is there to go?
I enter a hole in the wall, and come out the other side of my dream. Here I am, seated, peacefully, listening to my Jazz, and laughing to the sound of my own thoughts. Laughing, and laughing loudly.
It’s a good day in Chiang Mai. That is all.
