So I really like that they give you these giant straws for your drink like it's absolutely foul to drink from the bottle, and while I'm sucking on this herbal fruit tea concoction that promises to "bring down the fire," I watched this dog that's been passed out on the floor like he's dead or deliriously happy. All the cats and dogs I've seen in Bangkok are always passed out from the heat, and, I hope, deliriously happy. The heat is nice. It's like a constant hug, deliriously happy.
As for the people, well one thing you gotta remember is that the king really is everywhere. I went to the Art & Culture center, and half of the Thai art history timeline seemed to be about the King, i.e., and in 1970, King Bhumibol really got into painting, five years later, really into sculpture. But it really is hard to not like a king who speaks four languages, plays jazz with Benny Goodman, and looks damn good in round spectacles.
Everyone besides the king seems nicer and more Buddhist than the Chinese. I'm retracting my spikes and littering thank yous with a smile like a bad American habit. Must fortify spikes so as to not get jibbed back in the mainland, a girl's gotta be tough in the Jing, either that or be a pale delicate flower.
I'm kind of enjoying relying on gestures and stupid English. When people ask me where I'm from, I still find myself saying China, though the American inside me swells a bit too. My taxi driver said he only knew four words in Chinese, and he proceeded on saying them with the enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old: ni hao, xie xie, zai jian, and ke ai! He looked young himself, maybe my age, is that still young? He keeps on giving me mint candy and rubs yadong, this palm oil that's slightly sweeter than fengyoujing on my hand. "Put against nose." He instructed, and repeated this four more times before we reach my destination, each time with smirk.
We listened to the latest Lady Gaga featuring Beyonce that sounded exactly like the old Gaga to me. He's singing to it and I remember the days when I used to fall asleep to the radio, and now I have no idea whether the latest Gaga got flack from Pitchfork or not. So this is when you know you're getting old.
"Ke ai!" I laughed. "How to say ke ai in Thai?" This is what I mean by stupid English.
"Norak," he laughed back then pointed at me, "norak like you."
This was when I regret not kissing a few more Italian boys in my life, and also my Thai taxi driver who knew long ass sentences in English but only four Chinese words.