ScarletMels

I thought it time to talk about how we’re adjusting to our new environment, and about some everyday observations. But just so you know, as this is a family-oriented blog, I’ll omit red light entertainment and “sexpat” commentary. On this blog, in any case.

Life in Thailand suits us, it seems. After years of countryside and small town living, I admit it was a bit of a shock to settle in the big city for all of us. Even after eight months, the kids still ooh and aah over the tall buildings, elevators, escalators, bright lights, and creative architecture. Alright, the adults do too. We haven’t quite got used to the crowds and traffic, but have accepted them as a fact of city life.

We have learnt a few lessons too:

We know not to wear regular flip-flops except for quick supermarket runs, since dirt finds its way to the top of our feet, no matter how carefully we step. Platforms or closed-toes are our trusty friends.

We know not to leave the umbrella at home in the rainy season, because we will get soaked on the days we do leave it behind.

We know never to leave home without a little packet of tissues; it is by far the single most useful beauty product in one’s bag. From patting a sweaty face (frequently), to wiping a dubious lunch table (occasionally), to mopping up nosebleeds (rarely), these babies come in handy again and again.

Learning Thai, even a few basic sentences, has proven essential. Even in our expat-populated area, there are fewer English-speaking Thais than you would assume. Often, we tentatively say our one good Thai sentence, only to have the Thai speaker rattle off a long line of Thai, leaving us floundering and scrambling for our back-up phrase: “I speak Thai a little, a little!”

We also realize that when we do speak English, we need to adopt a peculiar dialect to be understood. We omit “the”, “a”, and the plural “s”, and say the number after the noun: “You have shirt, red colour?” or “I take Coke two”. There are a few phrases that only work in Thailand; for example, say you want to know if the store can fulfill a certain request. You say what you want, then conclude with the all-important question: “Can?” To which the store person will reply “Can!” or “Sorry, cannot.” Or, say you are shown a red shirt but want it in blue. You say, “I want same same but different.” This statement is so popular, you can actually buy t-shirts printed with “Same same but different”. A tongue-in-cheek homage to Thai popular culture.

My friend Thereza, a fellow expat, now begins her shopping negotiations with, “I live here, give me Thai price, not farang price.” And it usually works too!

More to come soon…

On a Phuket beach over the Songkran weekend, I had some time to ponder about people’s bodies. We were staying at a hotel that’s popular with the Scandavians (never seen so many natural blondes in one place before!) and the Russians. The English-speaking guests were definitely in the minority there. And so, with that many Europeans, the beach attire was a far cry from what we are accustomed to seeing in North America. We certainly got an eyeful: overly tanned wrinkly old ladies in triangle bikinis, hairy pot-bellied men in banana hammocks, pasty white folks flipping themselves over like steaks on a barbecue… Am sure if you listened closely, you could probably hear them sizzle.

One overcast afternoon, while my peeps played in the water, I people-watched. People-watching is now one of my favourite things to do in Thailand. Never a dull view! Unfortunately I couldn’t memorialize the sights, as we had drained the camera’s battery that morning, and left it charging in the hotel room. With the anonymity provided by a red wide-brimmed hat and red-rimmed sunglasses (har har), I objectively observed (another har har) the wrinkles, cellulite, hairy backs, and the outlines of male genitalia so kindly afforded by brightly coloured bits of Spandex. There was a middle-aged fella nearby; dark tan, comfortable beer belly, hair everywhere except on his head, and a leopard print Speedo. He laid on a towel on the sand, on his side, one hand propping up his head, the opposite arm resting along his upper side. It was like he was posing for a swimsuit issue photo shoot. My favourite watched person of the weekend!

This fleshy feast for the eyes brought the realization of how lucky we Bayne-Stevenson women are. We are genetically blessed with minimal cellulite, firm, shapely legs, and derrières that kick gravity in the, well, derrière. Most of the women on the beach had jiggly hammies and droopy batties, even the twenty-somethings. I didn’t even know hamstrings could jiggle. I figured, engaging the quads and hams to hover over public toilets would have done the trick. Our males relatives have good strong legs too – albeit a little bowed in some, but nevertheless endearing. However, the women take the cake: my mother, daughter, sisters, aunts, cousins, grandmother, all of them!

That said, we do have imperfections: inherited physical banes, if you will. Bosoms and bellies get in the way for some Baynes. Bad skin and frizzy hair bother some Stevensons. We are not perfect specimens, far from it. But I must say, the legs and ass are pretty close to perfect!

This is not a bid for compliments (I do that for myself, thank you), or an attempt to show off (my shoes already do the honours), but an attempt to pay homage. It’s an expression of pride in my family genes, and I’m eternally grateful for them. The gams and badonkadonk make up for all the other features and flaws we fret about.

The legs have it, baby!