Yesterday 0ur team put on an 'Amazing Race' for the short term group that has come from the states. My station was in the market, and as I sat I observed and wrote. You can tell when I went from writing about things that had already happened to things that were happening in the moment; I switched tenses. :) Here it is--mostly unedited (I had to fix spelling mistakes haha) raw thoughts:
"In the market I sat next to a kind woman with a laugh as big as she was. She gave me a stool to sit on near her strawberry stand -- perhaps out of kindness, perhaps to keep me out of the way of the foot traffic of hundreds of people going in and out of Seven. I still wish I had counted just how many people came through the door in those 4 hours. Beyond the big woman was an old lady who sat hacking at fish with an axe on a wooden stump, smoothed into a cutting board. It looked to me that she had learned to purse her lips to prevent raw fish pieces from flying into her mouth. Her gut-stained apron told me there were plenty of flying fish remnants to avoid.
Before the kind lady offered me a seat on her stool I had been somewhat rudely evicted from my perch on Seven's steps. That lady didn't seem to care that if she moved me it would not be for the greater good of everyone desiring a Slurpee or a cold water on the hot afternoon; she had a shop to set up and I was in her way. Okay, so I'll move, I said to myself, inwardly offended that she didn't care about the very good reason I was in her way. Her apples looked good, but I might have vowed not to purchase from her due to her unkindness to me. Not exactly the Biblical thing to do perhaps, but I wasn't hungry anyways.
I knew they were talking about me, but not understanding enough of the conversation or knowing enough Thai to defend myself I sat in silence and prayed for my friends to come quickly so I could just leave.
The woman with the fishy apron went out to the middle of the street and poured a bucket of bloody fish gut-filled water down the sewer drain. I'll take that as a warning to never step on sewer drains in the market-- you never know what guts might get stuck to your shoe. I can't imagine doing her job, but I guess that after so many years of fish parts flying your stomach can handle anything.
The sun is getting low, but for the 4th week or so there will be no decent sunset to marvel at. Chiang Mai's hazy skies only get hazier as the weeks go on, the only consolation being that as summer approaches the blazing sun's power is lessened and the days are slightly cooler even as each day is warmer.
The sun drops... one group of friends left to arrive and then I can turn the market over to the ladies that claim it, whether kind or rude. I'm sure they're tired of seeing my face, pretty as they thought it was originally. Even pretty faces can be a nuisance, and this one has stuck around for 4 hours -- my departure is long overdue.
With the sight of every new tuk tuk I am hopeful, only to be 'pid wang' (disappointed) as they drive by empty, save the wrinkled man with his cigarette looking for someone to pay him too much for a ride home. Praise the Lord I drive a motorbike!
I need to get out of here before the entire market comes out onto the streets and the road becomes impassable. We're already 30 minutes overtime -- I doubt our drivers are pleased. They'll probably want an extra hundred baht for their trouble, and I would too. The evolution of this market is incredible. The strawberry lady has moved her produce onto the street and is making way for a new vendor to take her spot selling grapes. My stool has long been gone and my legs are tired and my back aches. My "evictor"(yes, I made that word up) is calling out to all who pass 'sao baht' -- northern Thai for 20. She adds a 'jow' to the end of each sentence -- also northern Thai. I never know when to use northern Thai and when not to. And I want some grapes. I won't buy though; I'm still not hungry."
