Today's Thoughts...
Okay so interrupting the island broadcast once again, I’ve got a little volcano to spew forth. The past few days, I’ve been extremely and inexplicably ill, almost certain I had the pig disease or worse so many apologies for the writing gap. But now that I’m on the up and up, I thought I’d keep my jabbering. If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now—I can’t stand the freakin songtaews. Oh sure, they’re loads of fun the first time you pile into one with its flashy red exterior and open air interior. Great little red pick-ups these things are, but for goodness sakes don’t come to depend on them for daily transport. After school, we usually get stuck with the "Little Taew" as I've not so fondly come to call it which is precisely what happened yesterday as I weakly climbed in, sick and ready to collapse. This songtaew is about half the size of a normal one in its exterior and I swear is powered Fred Flintstone style with this guy's feet slapping pavement through the bottom. Undoubtedly the SLOWEST one I've ever been in, we get stuck with it because the other drivers think it's hilarious (and always point and laugh) when Elena and I get ushered to it by its overeager driver. I think we're his only customers all day and I would pity that, really I would, but by the glint in his eye we know he KNOWS it's awful to be in the back of that thing. He's got these very large, very wide eyes that light up when he sees us come and this ridiculous grin on a very thin face that just looks so out of place and so mischievously gleeful to have us as he pushes us into the death wagon. It bumbles along the highway slower than the slowest motorbike, hitting every bump and jut along the way and sending us flying every time he swerves which is quite frequent as he tends to swerve when he honks and he gaily honks more than he steers, more to give a shout to passersby that his Little Taew is coming through than anything else. I mean even the horn squeaks when he honks it, yet he insists he has something to honk about as everyone steadily passes us on the highway. I can't tell whether to call him Happy Honk or Golem for his eerie love of his precious wagon. Worst idea ever to take these things as Elena and I are still stranded without motorbikes.
In the mornings, there are a good half dozen or so that go by every four to five minutes so they are very plentiful which would be great if they actually took you where you wanted to go. If you hop in the back, good luck. If you’re in the cab, you might fare a little better. At first, our annoyance was mild— the constant stops to pick up additional passengers when you’re in a rush, but hey, these guys have to make money somehow, right? Then it turns into them always dropping the farangs (non-Thai people) off last no matter when you get on. Okay, it makes me a little peevish, but whatever. Then comes the day when it’s raining, you’re pissed because you’ve been standing soaking wet. You clamber in, knowing you’re being charged up the yin yang for the ride and will inevitably have to haggle forever, as usual, and, running late for work already, find that Mr. Songtaew Man wants to take a detour through town, pick up two Thai women, drop them off, drop his wife off, pick up lunch, do laundry, and then get lost on his way to your destination. This all makes you unnecessarily late to work for what should have been a 15 minute ride down the highway. ARGH!!!!! Makes you want to shoot someone, but instead when he smiles in your face, knowing he screwed you over, you are expected to just grin and bear it because that’s the Thai way. Well, I’ve only lost it twice and today was one of those days.
The first time I was on my way to work in the rain and ended up furiously pounding on the window of the cab until he pulled over, I with flamingly enraged face jabbed my finger at my watch and screamed NOW! and we got to school with five minutes to spare. Today, on my way back from the store, I walked over to the stand where all the trucks sat and asked to be taken to where I live. Considering that it was only a 10 minute ride, I knew the price should be around 20 or 30 baht. When he looked at my bags, including a newly purchased suitcase and charged me 85, I nearly laughed. “No,” I told him in Thai. “I don’t have 85 baht. 30 baht.” (Mai chai. Mai mee baad sip haa. Saam sip haa, kaa.) He actually laughed at me and pointed to a bench for me to wait for more passengers. Knowing full well that hardly anyone took trucks back from this store (everyone rides their bikes and piles on the loads of purchased goods), I knew I was in for a doosy. He proceeded to walk to his group of friends and in a shrill voice imitate me and the price I asked for (the normal rate!) and laugh before propping his feet up to watch TV (because everyone has a roadside TV here and don’t ask me why). After about 20 or 25 minutes, I was fed up, so without a word, I stood and started walking. He chased after a bit calling to me and shouting, but I refused to turn around. I was tired and livid and lugging a suitcase full of purchased goods. I hit the main road to the highway in no time and immediately spotted another red truck on the other side of the road. Across the four lane street, he shouted something sounding like: “Tee nai, krup!” (Where, please!) I shouted back the name of my street. He shouted across a price— 40 baht (see sip!). Three motorbikes whizzed by followed by a Honda. Fully aware that this must have looked ridiculous with me on the other side of a four-lane road, I shouted back 30 baht (saam sip!) and was tempted to yell dammit, but refrained. I was seriously not about to play this game again. He considered and nodded his head. Done and done. With pride, I marched across the four lanes, my rolling suitcase bouncing along behind me. Looks like Mr. Cheat from the store probably didn’t get a customer all day. Ha. Don’t mess with me.
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