Memories

I didn’t go to the cinema as a child. Well, not much. I went once with a friend and her mother to see Bambi but I was very nervous because my friend had told me it would make me cry and I didn’t really know what this cinema thing was about and I didn’t want to be crying in public. (I wonder if this is why I’m as tough as old boots when it comes to sobbing through movies and books.)

I didn’t go to the cinema with my family until I was ten or eleven. I don’t know why. We went to the theatre but not the cinema.  It wasn’t as though it was banned; we just didn’t go. It means that I have vivid memories for the films I did see.

When I did finally go with my family we were on holiday, camping in Somerset. My memory tells me that we went to see Journey to the Centre of the Earth but research suggests it might have been The Land that Time Forgot or At the Earth’s Core, which came out in 1975 and 1976 respectively.  Anyway, we might as well have called it Journey to the Core where Time Forgot for the interest it held for me. This was not a film chosen for my benefit. I am the youngest of three; I had no delusions about my importance (not) in the family.

Then in 1978, at 12, I went to see Grease because I no longer had to be accompanied. The following year, four months before my fourteenth birthday I went to see Escape from Alcatraz. This was memorable for me as it had a certificate of AA - no one under 14 and I was terrified of getting caught.

We have always taken our children to the cinema. The first thing I took them to was the Barney film. Daughter didn’t make it past the sound test. And Son only made it past with fingers in his ears and his face in my arm.

When we first got to Thailand there were no film ratings. In October 2005 I took the children and a friend to see Wallace & Gromit in The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. The children were 9, 10 and 11. We had to sit through all sorts of horror trailers and just as I thought it was all over, the trailer for 40 year old Virgin came on.

In 2009 film ratings came into effect in Thailand but I can’t say I’ve seen much difference. Trailers seem to be just as unsuitable as ever. In fact Husband and Daughter came back from the dental surgery yesterday with reports that a vampire horror had been playing in the waiting room, complete with gory decapitations. Small children roamed oblivious.

Perhaps they haven’t quite got the hang of it yet.

A trip to a traditional Thai house

Last Thursday I went on a trip to Khun Preeda’s house, comprising of four traditional Thai houses. The garden and interiors – even the spaces between the houses  as in the first picture- are full of beautiful and traditional objects.

Traditional Thai houses are made of teak wood, which is cooler than other woods. Their ceilings are high because heat rises. They are built on stilts (see the last photos) because during the rainy season many areas flood and because it reduces the chances of receiving unwelcome visitors (snakes.)

The fourth picture shows an opium bed. The 'pillow' is made of ceramic! In front of the bed is a marriage chest which a mother gives to her daughter for her wedding. It would contain whatever the mother is able to give.

Friday Photo

Yesterday the school bus took four hours to get  to our apartment. The children were all ages, many siblings - and we all know how they can deal with a confined space - moods swung right through the emotional range as they struggled to cope with the ordeal. (And I don't mean missing the result of American Idol.)

This journey on empty roads is about 25 minutes. Normal can be as much as an hour. Friday afternoons are usually worse and an exhibition or concert at the exhibition centre near school can exacerbate the traffic. Last night was the start of a three day weekend.

Bangkok's traffic is notorious. I was much amused this week with the provision of a little light reading in case of such emergencies - in one of the city's fine taxis:

Some of the aftermath

Until the red shirts made their camp there I didn’t even know that the junction in the middle of so many of the malls was called Ratchaprasong. I’m never likely to forget where it is now…

Yesterday’s visit to Bangkok’s shopping district turned into a surprisingly emotional trip.  I was cheered to do a bit of shopping and to find my favourite place to eat in the whole of Bangkok, the gorgeous Sunshine Kitchen inside Siam Paragon was in operation, but the rest of it was horrifying.

I knew CentralWorld had been wrecked by fire but the knowledge and the reality hadn’t quite come together.  I passed by in a taxi so still the impact didn’t quite hit me. Instead it was road level parade along Siam Square – Bangkok’s funky teenage hangout – that shocked me. Facades had gone and I looked straight into burned out cavernous holes. Wires and struts spewed out, bits of wall and ceiling, not claimed by the fire, hung useless from what remained of the structure. Water continued to drip through the fabric and pool over the ground.

I cried quietly several times while I was out yesterday afternoon. I walked back towards home, passing CentralWorld. God knows Bangkok isn’t in short supply when it comes to malls but the waste, the willful devastation… it took my breath away. Bullet holes and attempts at vandalism left their mark on the windows of Gaysorn Mall.

Siam Square frontage. I like seeing the vendors: setting up despite everything.

Other posts mentioning CentralWorld, before, can be found here, here, here, here and here.

Wednesday

I had a fabulous session in the gym this morning. I was fired by banana power; a tiny cup of tea (can’t do without) and a banana half an hour before I started. I seem to have come on leaps and bounds today; stronger, quicker, smilier.

I had plans to go to the newly reopened Siam Paragon today but when I’d showered and dressed, this happened:

Still seeing the sky like this (it’s rain not fog) is waaaaaay better than seeing it full of black smoke.

(I think it might have cleared up enough now for me to brave the outside world. I am off to sit in Starbucks  in Siam P with my book, notebook and index cards… just because after weeks and weeks of not being able to… now I can.)

To G who's fab and not at all a bully

You may have noticed my references to the gym in recent weeks. If you look back over the previous three years on Tea Stains, such mentions were scant. Alright, non existent.

The gym and I are not natural friends. It’s not that I dislike exercise… it’s just that given a choice I’ll plump for a good book on the sofa. So, yes, plump I got.

And plumper and plumper.

A while back I was listening to myself declaiming that someone I knew wasn’t taking responsibility for their situation. It wasn’t related to their weight but about something else entirely but as the words left my mouth I had a moment; *Ping!* it went. Maybe it was hubris, I don’t know, but in my case it was a weighty light bulb moment, relating as it did to the size of my arseage. I wasn’t taking responsibility. I was waiting for someone else to show up and do it for me. And then I had this horrible realization that no one was coming.

OMG: I had to do it?

It’s not only about getting slimmer, but about getting fitter and stronger so that I’ll be okay in my future. I am also trying to sort out certain mechanical problems too – impingement in my left hip and my right shoulder which cause occasional pain.

The worse thing about all of this… is the sense of déjà vu because I’ve done it all before. Oh yes. Yoyo? Indeed; the yoyo has nothing on me. I can do all tricks, "walk the dog," “through the tunnel” and the fat lady (oh no, that’s not a trick, that’s me.) Of course I’m talking about yoyo dieting not the game on a string (I can’t do any of those stunts either.) It’s bloody depressing losing the same kilos over and over again so this time it’s got to be for good.

And honestly, I dislike the gym. It’s so boring. But this time I’ve got a magic charm: G. She comes to our gym three times a week to bully motivate me. And I do actually quite enjoy it when she’s there. But still, when G’s text comes ‘Jenny, I’m leaving now – I’ll see you down in the gym’ I still react like one of Pavlov’s dogs in his less well known experiment: *Tut! Huff! sharp puff of air through rubbery lips!* It’s like this physical response – if I were speaking, it might be: ‘Oh FFS’ - to the realisation that it’s nearly gym time. All this in spite of the fact I feel better afterwards.

So I’m trying to retrain myself. I’m trying to find a new approach to my feelings about the gym and the text message. I do feel good after I’ve been – I’m trying to be mindful of that. When G’s texts come in now I take a deep breath; suck in my cheeks and I smile. I contemplate feeling good afterwards: ‘The gym with G?’ I think. ‘Great.’

And then sometimes, I'll "eff and blind" all the way down to the sixth floor.

Still scared

Things have calmed considerably in Bangkok. The original curfew that was instigated on Wednesday night between 8pm – 6am was extended. The following three nights were 9pm – 5am and last night until tomorrow it’s 11pm – 4am.

I feel a bit manic. We’ve raced around trying to be normal. On Friday after the biology exam we went to the cinema (Daughter and I saw Bounty Hunter which was just the sort of nonsense with pretty faces we needed. Son saw Robin Hood – I have a very low tolerance for dodgy/slipping accents (Johnny Depp, I'm talking about you in the first Pirate film) – I’m not sure I’ll cope with this film.) On Saturday all four of us went to see Shrek which had us all laughing. I do love Shrek. I saw lots of friends while we were out all trying to be normal or trying to cheer themselves up.

Everyone has taken a bit of a bashing but I expect we’ll get there in the end.

However, it turns out I’m still scared.

Not about Bangkok – though I am a little, if I’m honest – it’s the novel again. I’ll stop a minute while you all sigh. *Collective sigh*

Scared scared scared. That’s what I am. I’m fairly certain that I know what I have to do but I’m too frightened to start.

(I need Dummies Guide to Twentieth Century Britain. Does anyone have recommendations for researching twentieth century life? How we used to live?)