Wai(st) Deep

---

Thailand- day 3

With an effortless sweep, Thailand has managed, in just three days, to perch triumphantly in my list of top three favourite cities. It didn't have to try, it had me at 'sa-wa-dee-ka!'
At every street turning and inside the Thai hangouts, its quirkiness is fascinating. I could not take my eyes off Thailand- off its colour, its people, its culture that could only be Thai! There's an almost ignorant mixture of terrifying poverty and shallow wealth, interweaving so closely that their parallelism becomes almost intimate. The contrast is shocking, but then is it any starker than, say, London? I was enthralled from the minute I saw it.

Food and fruit stalls huddle together along the backalleys, sharing the difference of competition on which their livelihoods depend. The pavements bear holes that are filled with dirty Thai men wearing bandanas and a hard look on their faces, digging up the very ground on which Bangkok lays it foundations. One looks at me as I pass precariously on the road, watching for the notorious Thai traffic as I do so. He continues looking, as if I had an influence on where I was born, and a say in where he was; that, unfortunately, is something neither of us can change. We finally part, reminded of that knowledge.

Day 5

I'm sitting on a dark wooden chair, against some large yet unobtrusive doors, with a colourful sweeper that resembles peacock feathers. Next to me is a wooden piece of furniture you might call a bed, with two Thai floor pillows, similar to the ones we sat on on the floor at dinner last night. Directly before me is a hammock, dark in colour; one side is resting dangerously on a piece of clearly improvised rope. If I walk down some steps, I can touch the decking of the hut next door. I turn my head while I'm there and see that my temporary 'house' is standing on stilts above the sand. Just now, in amongst some palms, a young Thai boy- maybe my age- steps gracefully onto his long boat, balancing something in his outstretched palm. A woman, in her early thirties perhaps, has white, patterned symbols on her cheeks- swirls- and is sweeping the deck beneath us with a copy of the 'peacock' sweeper we have on our deck.
'Ten paces from the beach', I think they said. We walk in bare feet- flipflops and sandals or whatever other wear chosen for feet is taken off before stepping into a shallow strip of water to wash off 'impurities', and then into the huts/ restaurants. It's the respectful thing here. A man has attached what I saw earlier to be a net next to his boat at the back, though I'd suggest a more suitable name to be a contraption of cages- ingenious, I think.
Interrupting my line of vision is a startling crackling noise. This, I find out, is accompanied by dots, pinpricks of peach/ orange light. The fishermen are setting off fireworks from their long- boats!

---