Thailand, part 1

Seated on the patio of Coffee Day coffee shop. A cup of Earl Grey tea, a big chunk of banana bread and free wireless. Behind me two Thai guys--at least I think they are Thai guys, they may be Indian--shout on cell phones and smoke cigarettes. Lakroi street--bar girl street. It's five p.m. The heat of the day is just beginning to wear off. This I think is the best time to be here: the days are sunny and warm, the days pleasantly cool. La kroi street--street of lost souls. Middle-aged and up men wander up and down in a dazed state, old Thai guys with young girlfriends. Of course it is a violation of nature. But then again so is penacillin.

It's time to recap the last couple of days. Strange days indeed. Nothing paricularly remarkable about them, but certainly different. Where to begin. We can list and describe a series of distinct events and then try to put them together in chronological order, although chronological order is invaraiably the least interesting way to view things. I mean, we could classify an event by its impact, its uniqueness, its location. Mostly we choose time as our marker, which I guess is as good as any. And even when we use time, we can always choose to tell the story backwards rather than forward, as in the Seinfeld "India" episode.

Well, I've just finished a message. After an event I will report on in a second, I was feeling particularly out of sorts (now I see a reason for sticking to chronology, somee vents need other events that occured prio to them in order to fully explain them). and decided to make my way to LeCroix street for the express prupose of getting a message, figuring that would help calm some of the agitation I was feeling. The queston then becomes, which massage parlor to choose. I mean, I wandered around for at least ten minutes this afternoon because I couldn't determine what I wanted for lunch. How to choose which massage place. I had been to the first massage parlor on Lecroix previously, and it was alright, and I might have gone there again, but no one was outside hawking business. It was around three or four p.m. and still extremely hot and the staff of this massage parlor had taken refuge inside. Usually, the girls line the stret in front of their business and call out "So wa dee ka" as you walk buy. But not today.So I wandered a little further and still no one was hawking business. Across the stree there were a couple of women setaed outsde one massage parlor who glances back expectantly when I looked. But, in turth, they were not very good looking. Finally I began to walk past the Yin Yang massage parlor and a woman confonted me with a "You want massage." "How did you guess," I said. "What kind? oil massage?" "Thai massage. one hour." "You want oil too, very nice." "Well, if you say so," I reply, and then kick myself for not asking how much extra it would be (it turned out to be the same price as a regular massage--sometimes traeeler's suspicions can get away from them.

I was assigned to a little girl (rather a small youngish loooking woman) in a purple t-shirt and jeans who led me up two flights of staris, telling me to watch my head. The third floor of the Yin Yang massage parlor consists of a series of clothes hanging from near the ceiling to the floor tha are separated into five or six separate massage areas. Gan (her name) led me to the end of the rows and drew back the cloth and told me to step in. I wasn't sure how much of my clothes. So I stayed in my boxer shorts until she walked in and then made a motion of taking off my shorts and she laughed and said yes like she was speaking to an idiot (which in a sense she was) The big towel was more used to rub off oil from the body than it was to cover any particular organ, although generally spaeking it served that function as well. A Tha massage sarts from the feet and works its way p the body, ending with a workover of each of the arms. The hour went by more quickly than her than for me, I'm sure. At one point she asked me if I wanted a pedicure and I called to mind what a struggle everything is over here. Everyone seems nice but they are alwasy trying to seel you something. It'sneither good nor bad; it just is. The smiling bar girls want you to buy them drinks, dinner, buy their friends drink, pay a bar fine, take them home. Even the tuk tuk drivers don't drive more than a mile without asking you if you want a massage (yes, it is a metaphor; theirs, not mine). It's a salesman selling you an extended warranty. The smiling massage girl trying to get you to come back tomorrow for another massage. Wel, you know, as long as you are aware of it and don't let it throw you off your game, it's alright. In fact, it's better than alright. Putting up with a little salesmanship to pay six dollars for a massage is a bargain I can live with.

Before I end this post, let me talk about the event that preceded this and provide the impetus for the massage, though in truth I had been considerring getting one anyway. I had gone to the gym where my friend Glen belongs. Even though he is not in town, you can pay 150 Baht and gain entrance. SO I had run five k on the treadmill, did some stretching and was headed to the shower. GLen had told me he dries his shirts in the sauna and I was going to do that but wanted to look insider first to see if anyone was in there. As I was about to look, a burly, barrel chested man with long, wavy grey and brown hair came stomring out. He spoke in an Austrailian accent so I ddin't get everything he said, but the gist of it was telling me in a threatening tone not to go sneaking around and [peeking into saunas. I wasn't quite sure how to respond, so I simply looked at him and said, "right, o.k." It's best, I thought, not to provoke the guy. Afterwards, I was stewing, like th Underground Man thinking of all the ways I should have responded. I was vowing not to go back to that gym in any case. And I was wondering why the hell I took this trip in the first place. The think about being in a stranger in a strange lad is that you always have to be on guard. You can never really relax and let your guard down the way you can when you are among acquaintances and familiar surroundings. And, as Jim Morrison put it, people are strange when you're a stranger. Everyone's motives become suspect, you sijmply don't know who you can trust. Then you start to think, man, I take a wrong step and get run over and who the hell is going to claim the body. And you wonder why you came to a place where you could die in this unknown and unmarked fashion. So with all that weird stuff floating around in my head, I knew I had to get a massage, because the head stuff is connected with the body as well, and loosening the body, I knew, would allow me to gain some perspective. Which hopefully I have.
"Don't go


But to end this on a good note--the chatting Indians or Thais or whatever have jus left and I am able to move to the premier spot on the patio, looking out on Lakroi steet watching the parade go by. Itis the perfet time, the perfec temperature. Seriously, this has to be one of the premier spots in the world. The second cup of Early Grey tea is steeping; ther is stilll banana breat left and a thousand stories will stroll by.