Showing posts with label Thailand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thailand. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 07, 2014

A tiny flaw in the plan...


Ahhh, so there was something of a weakness in my plan, wasn't there? On Sunday, did I not say something along the lines of "there were some good things in 2013 and I shall come and tell you about them"? No, no, it's not exactly that I've forgotten what they were; I do have photographic evidence to remind me what I did last year. I've, errrm, just forgotten the precise details. It transpires that I can only come here and tell you, er, vaguely what happened at the beginning of last year.

At the end of February last year I joined an excursion to a mozzarella making Buffalo farm outside of Bangkok. I have no idea now where it was but it didn't take long to get there. I expect if you wanted to know and Google couldn't tell you, I could find out. It was fascinating. I think. I learned lots about making mozzarella. I took lots of pictures. And I DO remember thinking you'd be as fascinated by the process as I was... Only beyond hot and cold water to shape the mozzarella into those rotund yummy balls, I'm all of a blank.

Still, I don't suppose there are many people who come to Tea Stains to learn anything... So, sorry and all that; apart from one picture that illustrates I DID actually see mozzarella being made, instead of any details whatsoever about the process, here are some pictures of the lovely, milk yielding buffalo:

LOOK! This is something to do with making mozzarella.

This is my best side.

Well, we ARE water buffalo...

Check out those eyelashes. 

What? It's mud; mud's good for the skin.

Hmmm, I'm a tiny bit freaked out by their cloven hooves.

Gorgeous girls

And my favourite picture of all....

Monday, September 02, 2013

Taxi tales


I think it's perfectly normal to issue a tiny prayer every time I get into a Bangkok taxi. And that's not even when the taxi has answered my wave by swerving towards me over two lanes. In that circumstance, I'll offer up a pretty big prayer.

There is no 'Knowledge' here. I think if you want to be a taxi driver, you probably just apply to the 'taxi permit' office, pay your baht, and off you go. Sometimes we have such awful, hideous journeys and we stagger out of the car, astonished we didn't die on the way." Did you give him a tip?" I ask my husband. "Yes," he says, "I told him to change his break pads." Still, it's amazing how quickly you adapt. I'm quite shocked when I discover a seat belt AND a plug! Usually there's a seat belt but no plug; the plug gets sucked through the join in the seat and the backrest, never to be retrieved and after a run in with a GIGANTIC cockroach, yomping towards me on the backseat recently, I'm NOT putting my hand in there. 

And we don't have a car. We don't really need a car because we live in the middle of Bangkok, near to the skytrain and underground trains which are strictly limited in the ground they cover in Bangkok… still, the taxis are plentiful...

From my notebook
The other option is a motorbike; a motorbike taxi. These congregate at specified points every few hundred yards: at busy junctions or at the ends of sky train routes and they are tempting because they can weave through the Bangkok traffic. (Oh dear, I sense a theme.) It's hot here; walking can be unpleasant and if you are Thai you can perch delicately sidesaddle on the back of a bike and get there much, much quicker. But if you're farang (Foreigner) and scared like me, you sit like a man, legs each side. Fares are fixed although there seems to be the inevitable Thai rate and farang rate. In our early years I took a few bikes down our soi... (Don't tell my Mum!) It was a small road, two way but only one lane on each side. I have to tell you, it was quite exciting. It contravened everything I'd been programmed to believe. I'd heard tales from my Dad of young men who clutter up the orthopedic wards having come off their motorbikes. He theorized that there was a direct correlation between the higher the engine size, the shorter their life expectancy. (He really, bless him, didn't like motorcyclists and used to propose the use of shoulder-height piano wire outside the house as they raced up and down the 30 mile limit.) One day I couldn't get a taxi and took a motorbike up a different soi on my way to the chiropractor. I underestimated how much faster that road was than my tiny soi (it was Ekkamai, for any Bangkokians reading this) and it had at least three lanes in each direction. Terrifying. We flew. And then screech to halt as the traffic would slow and we'd weave over to another lane. Sometimes we'd be unable to get up between the vehicles and we'd find a dropped kerb and mount the pavement. There's always this awful dilemma of whether to allow my long farang legs to be kneecapped or whether to grip this strange Thai man tightly between my thighs.

Anyway, I came to my senses after that trip up Ekkamai. I was a Mum; there are no leathers, no helmets even. Then one day I got a call saying someone I knew had come off a bike on her way home; would I visit her in hospital? And that was the end of my foray into motorbike taxis.

Friday, January 11, 2013

Crispy cracker, snack capital of the world


Our holiday, this Christmas, caused me much consternation; probably not as much as it caused Husband, who had to book it, but still enough for me to make a total arse of myself.

Husband proposed a trip during New Year to see volcanoes in Indonesia. I agreed but told him he would have to organize it. Time passed; I made silly creatures, hats and costumes and wondered if anything would get booked. People kept asking what our plans were. Sometimes I’d be vague (I had a permanent, slightly vague sense whenever questioned about our holiday but I thought it was because I’d passed the responsibility to Husband) and other times I’d wave aside the nauseous doubt and I’d say that Husband was meant to be booking something; we’d laugh. Maybe, I’d say, we wouldn’t get anything at this late notice but we hoped to be going to the Philippines. Daughter couldn’t remember where we were going either (I wonder where she gets THAT from) “Where are we going for New Year?” She’d text. “The Philippines” I’d say, feeling geographically knowledgeable. Eventually, Husband started sending tentative itineraries to me. And it was during this time that I had a brainwave. Maybe I could use the trip to pick up some millinery materials. The Philippines are where they make sinamay, a material made from banana fibre used to make hats. I began googling sinamay manufacturers hoping that I could tie a side trip into some of the places I’d seen on the travel agents’ details. It was odd how when I found a place that made sinamay, I could never find any of the names nearby of the places on our itinerary….

Of course, this idea of mine wasn't ever going to come off, given that I was talking about the Philippines and Husband was talking about Indonesia. *Sigh* One of my best friends in the UK lived (before I knew her) in both the Philippines and Indonesia. I’ve known for a long time now that I get these two places mixed up and no amount of map checking cleared it up for me. Both locations have amalgamated in my head as foreign archipelagoes *waves hand vaguely over to the left* down there somewhere and I’m doubly embarrassed now that I live in SE Asia because I’ve waved many a friend off from Bangkok to Indonesia, or maybe it was the Philippines….

Anyway, there we were; it was all finally booked and we were off. Yes, definitely to Indonesia: six flights in six days and two dawn starts. Crumbs.

Anyway, Indonesia was most charming. I glimpsed a life lived under the threat of active volcanoes. I peered down inside a smoking crater. I saw my boys wearing sarongs (Don’t panic, David Beckham, you’re quite safe) and yes, I have photographic evidence. Though their coffee seemed to contain generous quantities of volcanic ash, those lovely Indonesians also drank tea, which pleased me enormously. The food was delicious (mie goreng – fried noodles – ooh yum – and a spectacular clear soup, served with crackery crisp things.) In fact, though often spotted in Bangkok, Indonesia struck me as the crispy cracker, snack capital of the world (a choice of four, yes FOUR, crispy crackery snacks with breakfast!) Mostly commonly spotted where the prawn cracker type things, but other crackers in spirals, squares, circles and hula hoop shapes, were all over the place, made variously from rice, potato, tapioca starches. Awesome. 

We had an incredible trip; seeing the dawn of 2013 overlooking the crater of Mount Bromo. We saw Borobudur, a ninth century Buddhist temple; Prambanan, a ninth century Hindu temple, both UNESCO world heritage sites.

And I, finally, worked out the difference between Indonesia and the Philippines. 

Waving my hand vaguely over to the left



Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Christmas tree for charity



Today’s the day where I come begging for your help. 

Central and Zen department stores are having a competition this Christmas season to highlight charitable giving. They have invited embassies in Bangkok to take part by decorating a Christmas tree. The British Women’s Group decorated a tree on behalf of the British Embassy. The tree with the most votes will win 100,000 Baht for their chosen charity.

We wanted our tree to be different. (I think we achieved that!)

There are ten lovely trees in the competition and I don’t doubt for a second that all the charities will be worthy causes but I would be grateful for ever if you would go and vote for the UK tree!

Our charity, the SET Foundation is very close to my heart. It’s a wonderful charity that sponsors Thai students through high school and university. It makes a huge difference to the young people who without funds would have to leave school and contribute to the family income, often in dead end jobs on building sites or in paddy fields. I don’t know about you but I took my education for granted. Have a look at the What It Costs page; to us in the west, making a difference doesn’t cost as much as you think.

Please click here to see the trees. Click on the UK tree for details on voting (Click LIKE then add your name to the list.) PLEASE. It’ll only take a minute and SET really does change lives. Bangkok folks can also vote in Zen in Centralworld.


Thank you.

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Monday, September 10, 2012

Making phuang-malai

I have often stopped and admired the (mostly) women making the phuang-malai on Bangkok's streets. They make as they sell so I'd watched some of the process and I knew that they used a piece of metal (it turned out to be a GIGANTIC needle) and they thread the buds onto raffia but that was as far as my knowledge went.

Phuang-malai are purchased for as little as 20 baht (40 pence) for a basic one but more ornate ones can cost up to a 1000 baht (£20.) They are much more than something pretty or to freshen the air. (The jasmine buds smell DIVINE.) They are given as offerings inside temples, on spirit houses and hung inside taxis and at the bow of a boat to make merit to the journey goddess, Mae Yanang. (You can find out more about the garlands here and here.)

Last week, thanks to Attic Studios, I learned to make one.

Lots of buds, including jasmine and roses, a HUMONGOUS needle and considerable patience. The folded banana leaf
stops the buds from falling off the needle. The angle at which you rotate each bud is very important to the finished
effect.

Two lengths make one circle. I told you, LOTS of patience.

The piece of the left is the bit that hides the rafia joins.

I love the flowers above the roses. They couldn't tell me what they are called but they are like teeny weeny little
sculptures. And TA-DAAAA: the finished phuang-malai.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Wednesday's Windows

Good morning. I am post Pilates class today so am feeling pretty chipper (and clearly from circa 1960...)

Today's window is dedicated to all the writers and readers in my life. It's from Jaspal. I first spotted it in Emporium, my local mall; but then, from a taxi, I saw the whole front window at Terminal 21 decorated bookishly. Sadly some of the pictures were a bit reflection heavy and it was beginning to spit I didn't hang around for a drenching in the afternoon downpour.

What's not to love? My favourite trick, playing with scale, makes another appearance and it's in celebration of books and writing. Brilliant.

Jaspal Emporium

Jaspal Terminal 21

Jaspal Terminal 21 close up

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Wednesday's Windows


Okay, so the high end shops I've been featuring have got lots of money (relatively speaking) to spend on their window displays. But here are a couple of unrelated shop fronts who demonstrate that it's not about money...

The first one is Thann, an upmarket spa shop with their own products line. This is their Gaysorn branch. Oh how I love the simplicity... It must have taken someone many hours of cutting corrugated card into these lovely leafy branches and you do need tons to be effective but effective it is. It's so lovely and simple. I LURVE...


The next one I spotted  this week. It's courtesy of Adidas in Siam Centre. I'm completely unmoved by sports and I never rarely get stopped in my tracks by a sports shop's window display but I love this. Simple and brilliant. And of course it's hits the spot with my favourite technique, playing with scale.



Tuesday, June 05, 2012

No Jubilee celebrations


There have been no jubilee celebrations for us this weekend but on Saturday, Son graduated from school in a rather nice, congratulatory ceremony and then departed for a ‘holiday’ with his school friends. Gulp. I am trying hard to be a grown up. I am mostly sitting on my hands, trying not to text him to ask him if he’s applied the sun screen/insect repellant I purchased for him. (As well as a host of other, much more controlling and intrusive questions…)

Daughter and I had planned our own jaunt to the beach after exams (with strict instructions from Son that the island he was going to, WASN’T big enough for the three of us) and somewhere along the way, it morphed into me taking her and four of her friends to the beach. We left yesterday. There have been lots of (good) hysterics. Teenage girls, en masse, squeal a lot, don’t they? Their phones have remained tacked to their hips (unless they’re in the sea or the pool) even though the four other people they’re in almost constant communication with, are sitting on the beach bed next to them.

My own change in status (from holidaying with Daughter to chaperone) means that I am free to tackle the Adobe Illustrator book again. *Sigh* Despite having worked half way through the course book, EVERYTHING I attempt to tackle feels like Hard Work and I usually abandon it to do it in a more long-winded, but slightly easier mentally, manner.

And that’s pretty much why I’m sitting here blogging… 

I’ll be back tomorrow with Wednesday’s Windows.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

One of my adventures


My notebook is full of little sketches of maps that I’ve made after glimpsing something exciting from a taxi. I will have scribbled down shop names or soi numbers as landmarks and made cryptic notes like ‘basket shops’ or ‘red Chinese drum things’ to remind me what I’d seen from the taxi that I’d thought worth going back to explore. My Thai doesn’t stretch to ‘Ooh, can we stop for a second? I want to take a picture/see what’s in that shop but I'm not doing a runner and will be back a minute.’

The other day I was intent on going to Mega Bridge to take photos. Mega Bridge is, well, it’s mega; huge so there’s no mistaking it but it’s not a destination in itself. ‘I want to go to [destination]’ is part of my every day Thai but equipped with the new phrase ‘I want to take photographs’ I set off downstairs to find a taxi.

Taxis are plentiful but it’s a lottery what sort of experience you’re going to get. They’ll often refuse to take you (either because they don’t know where it is or because they don’t want to go that way (wtf?) or because your pitiful Thai hasn’t worked.) We have a family tactic to get into the taxi before telling him where we want to go: a sort of ‘bums on seats are nine tenths of the law’ attitude.

Astonishingly the first taxi didn’t tell me to get out. Our conversation (in Thai) went something like this:
Me: I want to go to Mega Bridge.
Him: *disbelief* Mega Bridge?
Me: Yes, Mega Bridge. I want to take photos.
Him: *Grunt*
Me: *squinting, placing imaginary camera in front of face and clicking*
Him *Grunt* Sort of assent.

We set off in silence and I began to doubt that it was a result. As soon as I spotted the bridge, I began to take pictures so he’d get the idea. Very slowly, he began to thaw. He asked me would I like him to go over the bridge; we did and then we came back over to the starting shore. We stopped at the side of roads, in the middle of the bridge (yikes) and under the bridge. When I thought I was being dropped at a destination and I tried to pay him. No, no, he said, not finished.

When I got back into the taxi, he was on the phone. He passed the handset to me to speak to a Thai man who spoke perfect English. “He wants to know where you’d like to go next.” We agreed a route, winding up alongside the river, taking in two more bridges and I passed the phone back to the taxi driver. We set off again, stopping at a park that was shut and he got out and asked the guard if I could go in and take pictures…

He was wonderful. I had the best adventure.

(I'm under no illusions that I'm a photographer. I take pictures for reference only.)




Monday, April 23, 2012

Songkran Silks

During Songkran, Daughter appeared at my door looking wan and I knew immediately she'd hit a brick wall with her revision. I HAD to get her out of the apartment before she went mad. I thought for a few seconds before working out what would lure her away from her books: a tour of the stationery department and a cup of tea in Starbucks. (She's like her mother!)

THAT meant braving the outside, where people were armed and shooting water guns. It was exactly what she needed; even before we got there we were hysterical with laughter, hanging onto our taxi doors to prevent anyone from opening them and spraying us. (Oh yes, they would!)

It was serene inside Emporium Mall. Check out this lovely display of traditional Thai silk making.

How intricate is this pattern?

Gorgeous. I want these twists of silk for decoration

Or I could just lie in it...

Oh! Drawers full. Heaven.

I'm not quite sure of my facts but I think this is Chansoma's Thai silk, possibly from Suan Chitralada's Royal Folk Art and Craft Center. I apologise for any errors I have made while crediting these products.


Sunday, April 22, 2012

The end of an era or the start of a new one


The days have been whizzing by disproportionately fast here at The House. I think it’s because we have exams approaching: the hours have telescoped and May is hurtling towards us whether we’re ready or not.

The giant kids will have one last week in school (from tomorrow) and then BAM! Exams. Gulp. Then Son will venture out into the world (with any luck) and Daughter will never wear school uniform again. Really, it’s the end of an era; or perhaps it’s just the start of another.

We holed up at home during Songkran (Thai new year.) The kids were (hopefully) revising. I was hiding from the inevitable street water fights in spite of the phwoar heat here at the moment. Going outside is a grim experience; it’s as though someone’s left the oven on. I do see the water fight point but I’m not going to get wet to relieve it. (I think I was a cat in a previous life. I just hate to be wet.)

On Wednesday we celebrated Son and Husband’s birthdays. Son is now an adult – at least in the eyes of the law. There’s been a lot of cake: not just for the birthday but because Daughter’s idea of relaxation is to bake! For the birthday, she made 'light chocolate cake' from Harry Eastwood’s Red Velvet Chocolate Heartache book. Every time we make it, I declare it THE BEST chocolate cake I’ve EVER tasted.

I haven’t managed to get back to jewellery class yet and that’ll have to fit in with the exam timetable and my new, secret project which starts tomorrow.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Friday Photo and I Can See Again


I had a teacher, at my grammar school, who taught me a lesson I’ve never forgotten. She was a graphics teacher. She frightened me. I would have told you at the time that I didn’t like her but I can see now that I was afraid of her. (She belonged to the Disparaging School of Teaching Methods.) I thought she could see how stupid I was but I think she thought all the girls were stupid. It wasn’t personal.

I didn’t do graphics because fine motor skills aren’t my thing; I came to it by default on a rotation in the O’Level timetable. We’d selected ‘art’ and now we had to choose between painting or graphics. I already felt like an interloper. I was called ‘the academic one’ and my sister, ‘the creative one.’ There was no sculpture or making on offer at my school and it was many years before I realized that that was what I was. I still doubt my creative ability today even though it turns out that my sister and I are both academic and both creative.

One day, Miss Whose Name I Can’t Remember, asked us to put up our hands if we walked from the centre of town, where the buses dropped us, to school. All of us did. ‘So,’ she said, ‘here’s a quiz for you.’ This is the only question I can remember. We walked past a big car showroom, Ford, I think. She asked us if we’d seen the three cars arranged precariously on a display stand. Of course we had; it was difficult to miss them. ‘What,’ she asked us, ‘were on the number plates?’ I had no idea. Every day I walked past them and I never noticed the number plates. She wasn’t interested in the answers. She wanted to illustrate how most of us go around with our eyes shut. I knew they were there but I didn’t see them. (It was something like ‘SEE 1’ ‘LUV 1’ and ‘BUY 1’) Every single day for the rest of my school career I saw those number plates with a sense of shame. If I think now of my walk to school those damn cars and sense of shame is back in an instant.

I still fight with myself to see. It’s tied up with being blind to the things that are there all the time and taking them for granted. One of the things I do very deliberately, though not often enough, is to go to new neighbourhoods so I can see again. I am forced to look.

That’s one of the things I love about going to my jewelry class. On my walk from the underground station, I pass this wonderful spirit house and Bodhi tree. I have no idea of the relevance of the zebras although this site gives some suggestions. I’ve written about spirit houses before here and there’s a great story from Catherine at Women Learn Thai about a visit to the Chao Mae Tiger Shrine here.




Friday, February 17, 2012

Sunday, January 29, 2012

More monitors


I was over Lumpini way yesterday with several hours to myself so I did one of my favourite things: I went monitor lizard hunting in Lumpini Park. I love these creatures. They're so unlike anything I've ever encountered anywhere else. (Thank heavens; can you imagine the hysteria if these climbed out of the Serpentine one day?) My normal practice is to tear around the park, wondering why there aren’t any lizards to be seen and it’s only as I slow down and accept Thai time that they become visible. I think there might be a life lesson there.

I was sketching a tree (badly) when this little baby – about fifty centimetres long - appeared. He was beautifully marked. His yellow spots - which looked as though he'd been assembled from beads - make him, according to my book, a simple Water Monitor Lizard. 

He seemed oblivious to me, a metre or two away. He moved about flicking his tongue and exploring and then, after playing for a bit in a puddle of water, he took off around the edge of the lake.



I watched him for a long time and then I decided to go in search of another; greedily I wanted a bigger one. On the opposite side of the lake I’d seen a group of adults doing T’ai Chi. As I approached them I saw a piece of tree that looked a lot like a monitor lizard’s head but I decided it couldn’t be because it was so close to the T’ai Chi practice.

Then it moved.

This chap was about two metres nose to tail tip. According to my reference book I'd swear it was a Bengal Monitor Lizard but these aren't documented (in the book) as living in Thailand though they do live as our near neighbours in Burma and I'm not sure they have much respect for the border control. So the next best (and a bit unsatisfactory) ID would be the South East Asian Monitor Lizard, famous for their scavenging – hence the T’ai Chi people. Maybe it is then.


Friday, January 13, 2012

Friday Photo

As an accompaniment to today's photo I have to tell non Thai residents that Thai people sleep everywhere and anywhere. As a napper, I think this is eminently sensible. Once, I was so culturally immersed, I napped in Starbucks and I've been teased by my friends ever since. Still as you can see here it can be pretty funny too.

This week, as I raced around the malls of Bangkok trying to find Daughter's computer case, I went into a new set of loos in Siam Paragon. I couldn't resist taking this photo. I promise I haven't photoshopped the sign. I am convinced that the (foreign, surely?) translator has been poking a little fun at the Thais' love of forty winks. In Thai, this label says it's the equipment/broom cupboard.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Friday Photo: flood update

I don't like coming here and whining so I've just not come...

This week has been a combination of flood flood and flood, interspersed with several personal issues. In my hierarchy of worrying the personal issues took precedence but when I was finally able to stop stressing about them, all I saw, read and heard was about the flood. So I haven't been feeling very calm.

Anyway, here we are: there's still no water in our part of Bangkok but it won't be long, I don't think. And in the meantime, the cupboards and shelves are bare.



Monday, October 17, 2011

An apology; boots, feet and flip flops


Firstly, I need to apologise to any Thais who found my foot picture offensive. I was in London, quite sick and I forgot myself.

While I take the time (and the blog post) to apologise, it’s worth noting that this is an excellent example of cultural differences.

Thais (as I understand it) have a sort of hierarchy when it comes to body parts. Heads, as the location of the soul, are treated with great respect. You may touch a child’s head but after a certain age, the touching of heads should be avoided. You will see all sorts of exceptions for this out and about, but since it’s impossible to understand the nuances of these guidelines, we foreigners should stick to general rules.

For Thais, feet are the lowest and dirtiest part of the body and they should never be pointed at anyone, or used to open doors, stop coins running away or to point at anything.

I do believe (though I failed most spectacularly when I posted that picture) that if you wish to live in/visit a different country, you should find out about the things that cause offence and respect those differences.

But here’s the thing: after my boot fuss (which was mostly made on Facebook) I wanted to blog about the fact that I was REALLY wearing my flip flops in the UK in October. I was walking down the Strand; it was early morning and quiet so I sat on an empty café chair and stuck my foot in the air in front of a British ‘landmark’ (the phone box.) I had to do it several times because my foot waved around in the air. A commuter walked past me and laughed. That’s it; there’s the difference: he thought I was a nutter, but he wasn’t offended.

So to the biker boots. They very nearly made it back to Bangkok in a virgin state which would have made me cross and sad but a walk saved us: on the Thursday morning of my writing retreat we went out, up, along and down the valley in Heptonstall, near Hebden Bridge. 

And we shall gloss over the small matter of the blisters the boots gave me because they are so pretty...


Sunday, February 20, 2011

Running away

With the need to look critically at my novel my demon critic is back sitting on my shoulder; and he's... well criticising. I have written numerous blog posts during this last fortnight and deleted them all. B*stard.

The problem is that I can't entirely silence him. I need him and his constructive critique to help me make my book better but he's a devilish little thing and sometimes he just creeps in and criticises everything - he must be a bit dim because he can't tell the difference between constructive and destructive.

So let's start slowly, with some pictures.  We went away for three days to Hua Hin this half term week. I had a look on the internet for things to do and found Hua Hin Hills Vineyard forty kilometres away. I had heard a vague rumour that Thailand was growing grapes to make western style wine but I thought it was up north. I have minimal interest in vineyards (although my sparkling wine at lunch was incredibly good) but when I saw that we could tour the grapes and olive groves on elephants the deal was sealed.

I adore elephants. I thought five years ago that we would do an obligatory elephant ride during our first holiday and then it would be ticked off the tacky but essential tourist list but I go back again and again. I am in love.

I think I might run away from home and become a mahout.