So, I hop on my scooter, trying to find what looks to be the best place to pick up some sodas. We just want something to drink with dinner. I see a set of tables under an awning with a few fluorescent lights, and a soda refrigerator shining in the middle of them. I have only gone 100 yards from our accommodations.
I walk into the "area" (not really a "shop" per se) and the man who greets me is older than I, and has a sun baked face with a wide smile and kind if slightly tired eyes. I walk to the cooler and then see sodas on a shelf next to it. Now, I know they charge less for soda if it's warm, but I haven't made any ice from drinking water, and I really want something cold....so I opt for the extra two baht and buy chilled sodas. I see they have Pepsi, (Malcolm's preferred) but I don't see any orange for Debra. I look around to see if I can find any on the warm shelf and the man hurries around to help me find other things, talking to me as if I understand.
Now, it needs to be understood here, he is not yelling. He is not e-nun-ci-at-ing. He is talking to me as if we just saw each other an hour ago at the market. I do not understand a word he is saying. I smile, say, "Korp kun krap" (Thank you) and we continue. I point at orange juice and then at a soda bottle (a mistake I discover, because now he thinks I want orange juice and more soda). I shake my head, make an embarassed face and wave my hand....*that* he understands so he smiles. Laughs a little even. I finally see an orange soda (wrong brand) make a wincing "well..." face, and he reaches back where I couldn't see and pulls the brand I want. Then I point to the cooler and he yells something loudly at the distance, and I see a teenager with entirely too much hair, annoyed at having been removed from the TV, come flumping out of the living room part of the house behind. He stomps to the cooler, pulls out my brand of orange soda from the back, and looks at Dad and says what is the Thai equivalent to the universal, "Jeez, Dad! Duh?!?" and flomps back to watch TV.
I place the orange soda on the table with the two Pepsis and as I begin to pull money out, the man yells again, this time something much more common and worn comfortable by time, and I hear a moped start up down the street, buzz over and a small woman leaps off like a Pony Express rider, with an equal amount of lines, but more of a serious look on her face. She looks at my small collection and says "thirty six baht," very clearly. I say thank you in English and she responds in Thai. Again, I have no grasp of the language yet, except for some niceties and an almost instinctual response to the tones. I pull out coinage and she reaches for it, giving me change out of a tightly held fanny pack strapped about her waist. She holds the purse.
We have an interesting exchange that I will try to convey without lapsing into insulting western-type perspectives on Asian languages.
She says, "Blah blah. Blah blah blah, blah blah?" and she's pointing out from her store.
Somehow I know, and I say, "Yes," nodding, "we live in the duplex down the street."
She points more firmly, as if to say, at the end of the block, "Blah blah?"
I nod smiling, "Yes, the duplex. We rented from the German man."
She gives a nod and a once over, seeming to approve of me, warily, through her sterner gaze. "Blah blah, blah blah blah." Then she barks something at her husband (?) and reaches back to the table and grabs straws for me, stuffing them very motherly in the bag, patting.
"Blah blah, blah blah blah."
"Okay. I'll come back. Korp Kun Krap!"
"Ka...." and she goes off muttering something that tired old women mutter after years of watching after strangers and wondering just what the hell got into their heads to come to this village in the first place.
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