Conversation overheard number one
I am in subway (no no not the train station, the sandwich shop), a guy with his demure Thai girlfriend strolls in and asks “how long is the six inch sub? I tell my girlfriend its six inches but its only this big“ (thumb and forefinger held aloft for all to see).
Conversation overheard number two
A guy walks into a Seven Eleven (convenience shop for you outsiders) and asks the female cashier for a box of condoms. He then proceeds to expose himself to her and says “big enough for this”.
EEWWWWW. What is it with foreigners visiting this country?
I have never seen a booth at Bangkok international airport that hands out licences to be a total asshole. Maybe I am not looking in the right places.
What I do see though are males, typically Anglo-Saxon in ethnic origin, acting like primitives, and with the special ignition properties of alcohol, primitives with astounding amounts of ignorance and cultural insensitivity.
One should always listen to ones surroundings. One should never bludgeon an opinion or racial bias, or think in a superior or holier way to those one walks with when travelling.
The Thais know this. There should be a booth at the new airport that holds mandatory entrance courses to every single or unaccompanied white male entering the country.
Imagine the reactions if they behaved so badly at home.
Mai pen rai eh? Farang ting tong.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Song of the Desert
The warmth of my day is penetrated by the call to the faithful.
It undulates, pitched perfectly to give sanctity to its message.
I stand transfixed each time I hear the call, it is mesmeric and melodious, and although I am not even remotely religious, it has a certain purity to it that always makes me pause and consider.
Its not taped, or a spoken set of instructions, but a song to you to come and be with god sung by the leader of the mosque, himself, personally.
The desert, in all its loneliness is punctuated by mosques. Thousands of them. Each of them has a loudspeaker system and it is used to call all who live around or are just passing to the mandatory prayer service.
Even Gas stations and MacDonald’s have mosques. Refineries have mosques (ours has about 7 within a short walk). The beach has a mosque. The shopping malls have mosques.
There is no excuse.
Everything closes at prayer time. Except of course the mosque. You will be asked to leave any sales establishment (except of course the mosque) until prayer is over then business resumes.
Prayer is an interesting ritual. Men come from everywhere, wash at specially designated areas, then attend a session of bowing led by a songster who most often preaches a message whilst the faithful face towards Mecca and fall forward on their faces at a specific intonement in his words. Its mesmeric almost messianic.
Six times per day.
Sometimes I think the mindlessness of it all sets a man free.
And the women stand or sit around and wait.
Clocks are sold in the market that have all the prayer times built in, they also have an inbuilt GPS which gives the direction of Mecca from wherever you are.
They are digital and made in China. But can they sing?
It undulates, pitched perfectly to give sanctity to its message.
I stand transfixed each time I hear the call, it is mesmeric and melodious, and although I am not even remotely religious, it has a certain purity to it that always makes me pause and consider.
Its not taped, or a spoken set of instructions, but a song to you to come and be with god sung by the leader of the mosque, himself, personally.
The desert, in all its loneliness is punctuated by mosques. Thousands of them. Each of them has a loudspeaker system and it is used to call all who live around or are just passing to the mandatory prayer service.
Even Gas stations and MacDonald’s have mosques. Refineries have mosques (ours has about 7 within a short walk). The beach has a mosque. The shopping malls have mosques.
There is no excuse.
Everything closes at prayer time. Except of course the mosque. You will be asked to leave any sales establishment (except of course the mosque) until prayer is over then business resumes.
Prayer is an interesting ritual. Men come from everywhere, wash at specially designated areas, then attend a session of bowing led by a songster who most often preaches a message whilst the faithful face towards Mecca and fall forward on their faces at a specific intonement in his words. Its mesmeric almost messianic.
Six times per day.
Sometimes I think the mindlessness of it all sets a man free.
And the women stand or sit around and wait.
Clocks are sold in the market that have all the prayer times built in, they also have an inbuilt GPS which gives the direction of Mecca from wherever you are.
They are digital and made in China. But can they sing?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
