I wander into another restaurant in Hua Hin where there are no white people. These are, of course, my favorite kind.
Even more so, because everyone who works at the restauarant is crowded around a pretty decent sized TV in the front. They're watching the Olympics. More specifically, women's weightlifting, whatever the skinny division is called.
So of course, the top three contenders are Asian. American women, if they're this small, are probably gymnasts. Not weightlifters.
I sit in the very front, as to not obstruct the vision of the others. Everyone's watching. I order up some crab fried rice and green chicken curry soup.
Thailand wins.
Everyone applauds. This is Thailand's first goal, and I'm cheering along with 'em.
I think back to the rest of my trip, how I've been so fortuante to jsut show up somewhere with really good timing. I was in Bangkok on some special Buddhist day where all the entrance to the Wats were free. I was in Vietnam when the Miss World Pageant was going on. I was in Hue for the full moon, when all the stores turn off their lights, prey, and the streets are lit up with lanterns. I just happened to walk out of an internet cafe the other day, just to see GEORGE BUSH pass by me in his motorcade. I will be here Tuesday, the Queen's birthday, so I'm sure I'll see something interesting.
And I got to see Thailand get its first Olympic goal of 2008.
The soup is spectacular... green, coconutty, tender chicken. I hate the vegetables that are in there- some unrecognizable hard, bitter pea and eggplant. Forgivable. It's piquant and hot, just hot enough, hot enough to make my nose run but not make my eyes water. I wonder if that means I'm a badass or if they gave me the pussy version. The small chards of crab made the fried rice sweet and delightful.
I finish lunch, and stay longer to see as much of the olympics as I can. I take out my knitting.
One of the girls at the restaurant, Emily (her gold nameplate proclaims) speaks great English and asks me what I'm making. This is the way I interact with all Thai women here who aren't offering me (or giving me) a massage. I've been knitting on the beach, and all of the craft-hawkers stop by, motion to me to show them what I'm making. I show a picture, they give me the thumbs-up, show me what they've made. Some barely intelligible conversation later and I realize they're telling me that I have to come back to Hua Hin so that they can see the completed project. They don't even try to sell me anything. This is always a pleasant surprise.
I go to pay, as the eldest woman at the restaurant has got control of the remote and is changing it too much for my liking. I ask Emily the question I'd been dying to know- whether the soup was "thai spicy."
She laughed at me.
"Oh no!!" she says. When there's a farang at the table, we make sure to tell the chef to make it not too spicy! Was it OK?"
"It was perfect," I replied.
Question answered.
Even more so, because everyone who works at the restauarant is crowded around a pretty decent sized TV in the front. They're watching the Olympics. More specifically, women's weightlifting, whatever the skinny division is called.
So of course, the top three contenders are Asian. American women, if they're this small, are probably gymnasts. Not weightlifters.
I sit in the very front, as to not obstruct the vision of the others. Everyone's watching. I order up some crab fried rice and green chicken curry soup.
Thailand wins.
Everyone applauds. This is Thailand's first goal, and I'm cheering along with 'em.
I think back to the rest of my trip, how I've been so fortuante to jsut show up somewhere with really good timing. I was in Bangkok on some special Buddhist day where all the entrance to the Wats were free. I was in Vietnam when the Miss World Pageant was going on. I was in Hue for the full moon, when all the stores turn off their lights, prey, and the streets are lit up with lanterns. I just happened to walk out of an internet cafe the other day, just to see GEORGE BUSH pass by me in his motorcade. I will be here Tuesday, the Queen's birthday, so I'm sure I'll see something interesting.
And I got to see Thailand get its first Olympic goal of 2008.
The soup is spectacular... green, coconutty, tender chicken. I hate the vegetables that are in there- some unrecognizable hard, bitter pea and eggplant. Forgivable. It's piquant and hot, just hot enough, hot enough to make my nose run but not make my eyes water. I wonder if that means I'm a badass or if they gave me the pussy version. The small chards of crab made the fried rice sweet and delightful.
I finish lunch, and stay longer to see as much of the olympics as I can. I take out my knitting.
One of the girls at the restaurant, Emily (her gold nameplate proclaims) speaks great English and asks me what I'm making. This is the way I interact with all Thai women here who aren't offering me (or giving me) a massage. I've been knitting on the beach, and all of the craft-hawkers stop by, motion to me to show them what I'm making. I show a picture, they give me the thumbs-up, show me what they've made. Some barely intelligible conversation later and I realize they're telling me that I have to come back to Hua Hin so that they can see the completed project. They don't even try to sell me anything. This is always a pleasant surprise.
I go to pay, as the eldest woman at the restaurant has got control of the remote and is changing it too much for my liking. I ask Emily the question I'd been dying to know- whether the soup was "thai spicy."
She laughed at me.
"Oh no!!" she says. When there's a farang at the table, we make sure to tell the chef to make it not too spicy! Was it OK?"
"It was perfect," I replied.
Question answered.
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