Numerology is very important in Thai culture. The number nine is an auspicious number because there are many nines in royal and religious heritage. The Thai digit for nine is similar to a symbol seen on the Buddha’s forehead. A 100 Baht banknote ending with a nine in the serial number could be saved for good luck or its value might inflate to 200 Baht. When the MRT (the underground) opened, the first 99,999 customers received gifts. The word for nine (gao or gow as I’d write it phonetically) sounds similar to the Thai word for ‘progress.’
Yesterday Husband received this email from one of his team members:
“Don’t forget to plan to do something special on 09/09/09 09:09am!! Something like starting or promoting a new business, wedding ceremonies, merit making, or house building. Number 9 means "enduring or continuing to exist for a long time.”
He forwarded the email to me. I have the day to write today, so I wrote back to Husband to say ‘If I make sure I’m writing my book, do you think that will that send good fortune to my writing?’
He wrote back: “Absolutely. Me, on the other hand, will be eating a bagel for breakfast in Au Bon Pain…”
Gosh, I’m glad Husband has his priorities right!
What were you doing at 09/09/09 09:09?
*
Research from the very wonderful book: ‘Very Thai: Everyday Popular Culture’ Philip Cornwel-Smith and John Goss.
Showing posts with label Thai culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thai culture. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
The truth is...
Big thanks to Jane Smith at How Publishing Really Works for her Pitch Party yesterday. It was a tremendous idea and discovering some new blogs cheered up my otherwise dreary (and somewhat bad-tempered) Sunday.
Thank you to everyone who came by to Tea Stains. My apologies for not acknowledging your comments instantly but I was straight off to the hospital this morning with no time for niceties! I will get on with it soon.
It’s not my favourite appointment of the year. No, no it’s nothing really nasty *whispers: not gruesome or anything yucky* but a fasting blood test. That’s all it is. It’s not the needle that bothers me or the lack of eating (fast for 8-10 hours) or even the waiting around in the hospital for the results so I can see the doc with up to date information. No, what I hate about the fasting blood test is the fact that I can’t have a cup of tea until the blood has been taken.
So today I’ve spent from 9am until 2pm at the hospital. (From 9.10 – 1.50 I was pretty much non-stop consuming tea.) In between being drained of blood (do they really need so much? Is it any wonder that I’m chronically anaemic?) and seeing the doc, I tried to write.
All the while, I was worrying. Worrying, not just about the results of my sugar test but also about promising Doc faithfully three months ago, that I would try to lose weight. And I haven’t. Well, I’ve thought about it… you know, for three months…)
And when a Thai wants to tell you that you need to lose weight, they just tell you: “you’re fat.” It’s a fact so they tell you and that’s okay here. In Thailand, there are all sorts of subjects that we westerners are coy about (commenting on weight is just one.) It’s absolutely fine to ask people (strangers!) how much they earn; how much do they pay for the apartment; why they haven’t got children; how old they are? I could go on and on.
Here’s the catch, if someone in the UK called another person fat, they would be offended. It’s rude; we just don’t do it. In Thailand there’s no intent to hurt and while I flinch inwardly, I can't take away my own cultural responses. HOW can it not be offensive? I know it’s simply one of those cultural differences that I can’t get my head around. I don't like it, but there's no point in showing my displeasure.
The thing I quoted to my children when we came here was about the Asian habit of spitting. We think that’s disgusting and yet they think our blowing the contents of our noses into a tissue/hankie that we return to our pocket to use again later, absolutely repulsive. And you can see why, can’t you?
Thank you to everyone who came by to Tea Stains. My apologies for not acknowledging your comments instantly but I was straight off to the hospital this morning with no time for niceties! I will get on with it soon.
It’s not my favourite appointment of the year. No, no it’s nothing really nasty *whispers: not gruesome or anything yucky* but a fasting blood test. That’s all it is. It’s not the needle that bothers me or the lack of eating (fast for 8-10 hours) or even the waiting around in the hospital for the results so I can see the doc with up to date information. No, what I hate about the fasting blood test is the fact that I can’t have a cup of tea until the blood has been taken.
So today I’ve spent from 9am until 2pm at the hospital. (From 9.10 – 1.50 I was pretty much non-stop consuming tea.) In between being drained of blood (do they really need so much? Is it any wonder that I’m chronically anaemic?) and seeing the doc, I tried to write.
All the while, I was worrying. Worrying, not just about the results of my sugar test but also about promising Doc faithfully three months ago, that I would try to lose weight. And I haven’t. Well, I’ve thought about it… you know, for three months…)
And when a Thai wants to tell you that you need to lose weight, they just tell you: “you’re fat.” It’s a fact so they tell you and that’s okay here. In Thailand, there are all sorts of subjects that we westerners are coy about (commenting on weight is just one.) It’s absolutely fine to ask people (strangers!) how much they earn; how much do they pay for the apartment; why they haven’t got children; how old they are? I could go on and on.
Here’s the catch, if someone in the UK called another person fat, they would be offended. It’s rude; we just don’t do it. In Thailand there’s no intent to hurt and while I flinch inwardly, I can't take away my own cultural responses. HOW can it not be offensive? I know it’s simply one of those cultural differences that I can’t get my head around. I don't like it, but there's no point in showing my displeasure.
The thing I quoted to my children when we came here was about the Asian habit of spitting. We think that’s disgusting and yet they think our blowing the contents of our noses into a tissue/hankie that we return to our pocket to use again later, absolutely repulsive. And you can see why, can’t you?
Friday, May 30, 2008
Forgiving Friday
It’s not that I hate apologising. I don’t dislike apologising at all if I’m wrong – which I am often. In fact, I’d say the ability to say you’re sorry comes high up my list of redeeming features in people. If you can do it I think more of you not less.
What I really loathe is when sorry means “I’m sorry I got caught and just as soon as you turn your back I’m going to be at it again.” That’s not an apology.
Sometimes my children have turned, at my request that they apologise, and hissed ‘but it was an accident.’ Taking responsibility for a mistake or accident and being sorry is something I’ve encouraged as a courtesy. Maybe that means ‘I’m sorry you’re hurt’ rather than ‘I’m sorry I hurt you’ but it’s something to do with the human condition that they have empathy toward someone who is hurting for whatever reason.
Of course, being English, apologising comes high up my list of daily activities. I do it a lot. But you know you overuse the sentiment when the changing room assistant in The Gap in New York comments on the number of times you’ve told her you’re sorry in the forty five seconds you’ve been in there. I guess I mean ‘Excuse me’ in many cases.
Today I am squirming with embarrassment. I’m mortified. I’ve had to apologise, which wasn’t difficult because I was in the wrong. It’s not the being sorry though that makes me feel utterly ashamed it’s the knowledge that I lost control of my reaction to something. Getting angry in Thai culture isn’t done; you lose face. Their opinion of you diminishes. And I think that’s the problem. It’s the way she may now feel about me.
But for me, it's nothing to do with Thai culture: it's part of my way too. It takes me right back to being told off by my headmaster in junior school. I didn’t mind apologising for the deed I’d committed. What makes me cringe with humiliation to this day is the way he, the headmaster and a family friend, might feel differently about me now he knew that I was capable of such horrible behaviour.
Still, I guess that’s what forgiveness is about, isn’t it? Maybe I need to work on that.
What I really loathe is when sorry means “I’m sorry I got caught and just as soon as you turn your back I’m going to be at it again.” That’s not an apology.
Sometimes my children have turned, at my request that they apologise, and hissed ‘but it was an accident.’ Taking responsibility for a mistake or accident and being sorry is something I’ve encouraged as a courtesy. Maybe that means ‘I’m sorry you’re hurt’ rather than ‘I’m sorry I hurt you’ but it’s something to do with the human condition that they have empathy toward someone who is hurting for whatever reason.
Of course, being English, apologising comes high up my list of daily activities. I do it a lot. But you know you overuse the sentiment when the changing room assistant in The Gap in New York comments on the number of times you’ve told her you’re sorry in the forty five seconds you’ve been in there. I guess I mean ‘Excuse me’ in many cases.
Today I am squirming with embarrassment. I’m mortified. I’ve had to apologise, which wasn’t difficult because I was in the wrong. It’s not the being sorry though that makes me feel utterly ashamed it’s the knowledge that I lost control of my reaction to something. Getting angry in Thai culture isn’t done; you lose face. Their opinion of you diminishes. And I think that’s the problem. It’s the way she may now feel about me.
But for me, it's nothing to do with Thai culture: it's part of my way too. It takes me right back to being told off by my headmaster in junior school. I didn’t mind apologising for the deed I’d committed. What makes me cringe with humiliation to this day is the way he, the headmaster and a family friend, might feel differently about me now he knew that I was capable of such horrible behaviour.
Still, I guess that’s what forgiveness is about, isn’t it? Maybe I need to work on that.
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