Poo, to clarify for the non-south-indian population, means flower. It is NOT one half of what kids call their, well, poo-poo. That's why its the title of this post. Flower. That's Poo!.......Stop giggling. Honestly, I don't know why I bother.
Pak Khlong Talat. Sounds like Klingon for 'your bottom end' to me. It's the place where the flower market is, the one I despaired of getting to coz I just couldn't say it right! Seriously, you know why I like my native language? We pronounce all our syllables. We don't leave some of them hanging in the air. But this 'Pak Khlong Talat', when repeated back to me by the enlightened tuk tuk driver, was half of what its supposed to be. The only reason he got it was because I had literally drawn the name in Thai on a piece of paper and taken it with me. The Thais have taught me that much- be prepared to the point of paranoia.
Did you notice I said tuk-tuk? Yeah. I thought it'd never happen, not when motorbike taxis are around everywhere, but I stood around waiting for so long and no two-wheeled savior came to my rescue. So finally, after 2 months, I got properly fleeced by a tuk tuk guy and completed my initiation as a tourist in Bangkok.
The flower market was very beautiful, everything the websites promise it to be. I took some side lanes and found the vegetable wholesale sections, with heaps of vegetables in run down lanes- scenes that just transported me back to India, in a good way. I can't get over how we use the same vegetables everyday in such different ways. The same eggplant and ridge gourd and even sundakkai (turkey berry)!
The Adieu:
I'm leaving Bangkok for a couple of months, now that I've finished the TEFL course. Going back home to face some pretty loud music. Not all celebratory, once the folks hear the news. Soon, with the new year, this blog will become all about the experiences of an English teacher in Bangkok. Once I escape from the attic my father will lock me in, that is. So, I'm going to be leaving for awhile and I'm looking back at two months here that have been quite interesting.
The things I've learnt... A lot about myself. That I could live for months in a space that's approx. 8' by 7'- lesser than 56 sq.feet, most of it taken up by the bed. This from a woman who used to draw sketch after sketch of a future home that was more like a small village. My room-
I've never liked the adage 'people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones'. It's got the right message, but I find the image disturbing. Maybe I'd have liked something better involving wooden houses and stomping ;) It's had its message too, for me. Somehow, living here, having to make sure my feet touch the floor lightly has seeped in and made me tread through life more gently. I'm calmer.
I've learnt a lot about people and life; travel sometimes fast-tracks experiences, I think. I've seen beautiful things. I've mapped out a tentative dream for my life, when before everything was just a haze. I've made friends, some for life. I've learnt to be happy. I've learnt to be even more 'me'. Don't shudder- it's a good thing! :D
So, as tempted as I am to burst into song, with perfect rhymes that include 'me', 'free' and 'happy', I'll spare you the torture and simply end with this pic I did one night (crudely, on notebook paper) when I was thinking about where I am in my life...
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