March 7, 2024

I have had what I call an ¨air conditioning cold¨ for the past week. It is a cold one gets due to over exposure to air conditioning and a resulting chill. I frequently get one here. I also, while having a pedicure, was cut on my big toe.  The cut became infected. Therefore, I have been spending time in the BNH Hospital, whose initials stand for the Bangkok Nursing Home Hospital. It is a modern bustling, up to date place, and I understand, more expensive than some of the other hospitals in town. 

However, I cannot be budged from my loyalty to the BNH. This is because an old friend of mine, now dead, was on its board and was responsible for bringing it from its natal state as a nursing home to a full hospital. 

Liam was a rotund, gay Irishman who followed, in his late teens, from Dublin, the love of his life to Bangkok. The L of his L then, of course, dumped him. He was befriended by a neighbor, a Thai grandmother, who proceeded to teach him Thai, both regular and Royal Thai. 

Part of Liam’s success in life, and it was a very successful life, was due to his charm, generosity and humor combined with an amazing linguistic ability. The Thais loved him because he spoke Thai exceptionally well, not an easy feat as it is a tonal language, five tones–low, mid, hi, rising and falling. This means one word has the possibility of five different meanings. The possibilities for punning must be amazing. The likelihood of embarrassing yourself would also be amazing.

Suppose the word for balls (male) and egg were only differentiated by a rising tone. It might make breakfast very interesting indeed. 

A shop keeper, with whom I was bargaining, not very successfully, once said to me, “I am going to give you a better price because your friend speaks such exceptional Thai.”

Liam started, with a friend, a business that cleaned offices at night safely and well. As he said to me once, “I’m the Head Charlady of Bangkok.” He ended up owning a house in Bangkok, a couple of apartments and a house in the country on a river where, to my amusement, he tried to grow Irish and English flowers with only middling success because of the heat.  I miss Liam.

I was pickpocketed yesterday on the Skytrain between the Taksin station and the National Stadium station. Whoever got all my cards, which I have blocked and reordered, and my cash, only around 30 baht, $2.50. The only thing I can blame myself for is carrying my cash and cards together. One should always carry them separately and I know that.

A friend has lent me cash and I immediately reported the theft of the cards. I might have them again by Friday or Saturday, although probably not until I return to Barcelona. In the meantime, I am emotionally wobbly but all right. A friend is picking me up for lunch. I am in a mental blank space.  At just this point the hotel asked for a partial payment, since I am staying here a month. I was able to give them cash, lent to me by my Thai friend, which made them happy. But I won’t really be happy until I have my cards again.

I have just come from another astonishing meal with a friend. We had Thai oyster omelets. Thai oysters are small, about the size of an American quarter. I had my first Thai oyster omelet 43 years ago in my old neighborhood, Banglampoo. Walking the neighborhood one evening, I looked over the edge of the bridge as I crossed a canal coming in from the river and saw little food stalls lined up along the concrete edge of the canal.  One of them was serving omelets with oysters folded into them. Intrigued I decided to try one.

At this point I have to salute my long dead mother. She was not the sort who would have said, “Oh my god, you’re not going to eat from that cart by that filthy canal? You’ll catch something, heaven only knows what. He probably washes his dishes in the canal. ¨ He doesn’t. She would have asked how hot the hot sauce was and asked if she should she add more chilis to it. It was served with a selection of sauces, hot, mild and sweet. The oysters were plump and delectable.

Today’s oyster omelet was consumed in much more sanitary conditions but was just as good. The restaurant is in the basement of one of the monstrous malls that are the mainstay of mercantile Bangkok. The mall is in Central Chidlom and is called the Central Embassy since it is on the grounds of the former British Embassy. I am hoping I can find my way back there.

I also went to the hospital today to have the last bandage removed from my big toe. I have been declared cured by the doctor.

As I enjoy the food and my friends here, I think of a landlord I had in Brooklyn many years ago who said to me, ”You should buy this house from me, settle down, find a husband and stop leading such a scatty life. I did the first but have happily eschewed the other two.