They invited me out to a bar on the first night. It's owned by another of Da's friends. Three of us climbed onto one scooter, Da in front and Lawan sitting side-saddle behind me. We crossed the inner and outer moat roads, without falling off, and turned into a side-street a few blocks from Loi Kroh Road (more about that later). The bar was filled with regulars and friends; mostly Thais and a man with an Austrian accent who claimed to be Irish. I met Kikie and Marco, a delightful couple, she Thai and he German. I was treated by everyone as a friend, and lost a game of pool against Da. Lawan drank only fruit juice. She and I decided it was safer to walk home. Back in the old city a chorus of toads, mostly baritone with an occasional tenor, evoked a wordless memory from my childhood. Perhaps it prompted me to say something childish like "I wonder what they're singing?" I remember Lawan looked at me oddly and said "I don't know. I don't speak frog."
A room had its door facing the table under the umbrella. I felt an urge to move to it. Lawan seemed pleased, as though she had known I would. I discovered a few simple restaurants which served wonderful meals... A delicious spicy supper of pork, fried vegetables and rice with a beer cost less than the smallest cup of coffee at Starbucks in Edinburgh. My regular breakfast was a big bowl of fruit salad mixed with yoghurt and muesli. An early favourite was dragon fruit. They grow on a cactus and look like giant red-hot eggs rimmed with flame-shaped leaves. The flesh is the colour of beetroot. The taste and texture; somewhere between kiwi fruit and watermelon.
Every morning Lawan bought flowers for the house shrine, placed incense and a fresh cup of tea at its entrance, then kneeled and prayed for a few minutes, her back straight and the palms of her hands pressed together. I asked her who she was praying to. Was it Buddha? I don't remember her exact words but the gist was that she prayed to the house spirits, that the shrine was a place where they and visiting spirits, could rest and find refreshment.
What struck me about the Thais I met, was their lack of self-consciousness. They didn't pose. They didn't go for one-upmanship. They didn't seek to impress or to evoke the envy of others. They were quick to smile and always happy to match a friendly glance or a show of respect with one of their own. Part of it is the influence of Buddhism, but there is something else there too. I could see Da had been infected by western egotism. I'm weary and scared of our western culture, one which spreads like a virus. I think we call it globalisation - where traditional gods, customs and values become mere remnants in the coffins of museums. Is there a culture which can resist it, a place where the best part of it is not the shiny surface? Is it here in Thailand? Can it survive the power of greed and technology - the businessmen, social engineers and spin-doctors - the modern missionaries of a crusade without morals who create needs and desires neither needed nor desirable?
The Thais are no slouch when it comes to technology. In many areas they are more developed than the west. But they are not yet ruled by its sterilising laws. If they are ruled - it is by courtesy. Streets are chaotic but clean. Public toilets are of a standard one would expect in a good European hotel. The city air is charmed with landmark odours; fish and spices from the markets, the smoky smell of meat on the charcoal grills at food stalls, and in the old city there are areas fragrant with flowers.
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