Numbering Things In Thailand

One of the things that struck me about Thailand was that many things that are generally not numbered around the world were carefully numbered. It was like the Count from Sesame Street had been put in charge of interior decorating.

You'd go into a men's room at a mall and the urinals were numbered, like one to thirteen or something, however many there were. The stalls were in their own number series. Also the sinks. It seemed a bit compulsive, even before it got much stranger.

In some malls, each bathroom starts all over again with urinals numbered starting at one. Same for the stalls and sinks. But in other malls, the urinals are numbered consecutively throughout the entire mall. So the men's room designated to start the count has urinals numbered from one to thirteen. The next men's room has urinals numbered from fourteen to twenty-six. And so forth. If it's a big mall, the number of urinals could get up to 120, easy, with the stalls and sinks not far behind. I assume it's the same in the ladies' rooms.

Elevators are generally numbered, as are doorways. At the big airport, the taxis are on the first floor. I looked around once and saw the number two on a large doorway. Thinking that I was on the second floor, I went down one and was taken aback by the absence of taxis. The door labeled two was actually doorway number two on the third floor. I realized this when I noticed that the doorway directly under the first doorway number two was also labeled doorway number two.

The floors are numbered, of course, but there is no consensus concerning the designation of the floor that you walk into at street level. It may be the first floor, but the floor below ground level may be the first floor. The floor that you walk into may also be the ground floor, Floor G, in the European style. The big mall nearest to me is numbered G to four on the escalators, and one to five on the elevators. So floor number one on the escalators is floor number two on the elevators.

It can all be a bit confusing. On the Plexiglas below the escalator handrails, there is usually a large number. In some malls, or hospitals, or whatever, it is the number of the floor that you are standing on before you get on the escalator. In other buildings, it may be the floor that you will arrive at after you have ridden the escalator.

The floors of buildings will, of course, continue to be numbered. One can only hope that the numbering system will become standardized. I have noticed, however, that the numbering of the urinals, etc., is no longer to be found everywhere. Many malls, especially newer, more up-scale malls, are doing away with the practice. I was in a Big C* men's room today where only the urinals number one, two, four, and seven, had numbers on them. Only sink number one bore a number, and none of the stalls were numbered at all. It may have been of use to housekeeping to have these numbers, as in, “stall number three, in men's room number two, on the fourth floor, needs a plunging, stat.” It should be possible, though, to communicate such information without pasting numbers everywhere.

I find myself missing the numbers. It was very Thai, and it always reminded me that I am lucky to be living in a place that is at once so safe and mellow, but also very alien and interesting. I've been here for fifteen years now, and that, it turns out, is long enough to be witnessing some major changes. I just hope that it all works out to the advantage of average Thai citizens. If they're happy, I'm happy.

*The Big C is a Thai owned chain of large department stores featuring everything from dry goods to durable goods to shoes to tools to outdoor furniture, with a food market attached. The emphasis is on low prices without sacrificing too much in quality. It's a pretty good outfit. 

The Avana Hotel on Bang Na Trat

Any reporter worth his salt would have photographs to go along with this post. And then there are reporters like me.

Bang Na Trat is a well-traveled thoroughfare in the Bang Na District of Bangkok. No, not Bangkok, it's actually in Samut Prakan, the neighboring province to the south of BKK. A few decades ago you had to leave Bangkok and go for a while over minor roads before you got to Samut Prakan, which was an agricultural area at the time. Now the border is invisible, and the Bang Na area is being built up in spectacular fashion. Samut Prakan is now the freight container capitol of the Bangkok Metro Area. There are millions of the things stacked all over. The Sky Train already goes there, and more lines are planned. It's all pretty cosmopolitan by now.

The Avana Hotel tells an interesting story, a story with a distinctly mixed message. It's a good sized place, with nice signage, and it's been there for a long time. I have no photos to display because I've only ever laid eyes on it out of moving taxi cabs, and it is not well placed for efficient mobile photography. I've ridden by frequently though, so I've seen it very often, at different times of day, and in different lighting. The signs haven't changed. The hotel is set back about twenty meters from the street, on a street that turns at an oblique angle, and there are signs on the top of the building and at the end of the small street where you would turn in to go to the hotel.

The narrow side of the building is best visible from the main street. There are two messages at the top of the building, both reading vertically from top to down, one on the left side and the other on the right. The left side says, “Avana Hotel,” and the message on the right side is, “Jesus Loves You.” Those are large, permanently affixed, well lit signs. It's unambiguous; the hotel's owners must be Christians. That's unusual in Thailand, but not unheard of. About 2% of the population report as Christians.

The Twilight Zone music starts to play when you see the giant neon sign at the front of the access street. It's lit up like an arcade sign, on an arch that goes from one side to the other. Along the top it says, in very gay colors, Avana Hotel. Below that, in lettering of the same size and the same vivid colors, it says, “Massage 24 Hours.”

Thailand is full of massage places, and they come in a full range of the services provided. All of the massage places have signs that provide all of the information that any initiate will need to understand what kind of place it is. I'm going to leave you hanging here, rather than spell it out for you, but take my word for it, “Massage 24 Hours,” displayed so prominently, is a clear description of the place. They are serious about it. They want to improve your circulation in the worst way.

And some of the proceeds go to Mr. Jesus! How great is that? Everything in Thailand is Thai style, and that is really one of the best things about the country. Don't be so serious, let's have some fun, life is better if everyone is comfortable. Why would Mr. Jesus object if you wanted to relax with a special massage? Jesus loves you! He wants you to be happy! For Thais, there is zero tension in this mixed message. It's all about the love.

And the money, of course. I've been seeing the Avana Hotel and its lovely signage for ten years now, so it's a going concern. I wish them well. They are providing several valuable services to a grateful community.

Hat Yai Marching Band

I saw a high school marching band in central Hat Yai, Thailand, over the weekend. I went down to teach a class on Saturday. As usual, Thailand was fascinating.

There were many touristy hotels and a couple of malls within a few block area that included my own hotel. It was Saturday evening, and a weekly night bazaar was in progress about a block away. I walked out to get some dinner and the band was across the street. They’d been playing in front of another hotel, and they were just leaving for another location.

They were a typical bunch of high school students. They were wearing their school clothes, which had seen better days. There were only about a dozen of them. They played a few saxophones, a couple of trumpets, and mostly drums. They had some talent, and some enthusiasm, and they did seem to be enjoying themselves. They stood, marched and played with that studied casualness that is characteristic of most such endeavors in Thailand.

I heard two of the songs that they played.  They were:

1.   Jingle Bells (this was June 18^th); and

2.   The Marine Corps Hymn (“From the halls of Montezuma . . .” etc.)

“Interesting choices,” I thought, as I got more serious about dinner. 

My Condo Mates

It occurs to me that if I do not make some notes about my various acquaintances here at the condo I will certainly forget them, almost all of them.  “The condo” is a nice place near my university here in Bangkapi, a neighborhood in east Bangkok with lots of Thai Muslims, more than a few Africans here for one reason or another, and a good sprinkling of white foreigners but not so many that you would notice at the mall.  It’s fairly cosmopolitan without being at all touristy. 

Michael

Michael is Australian, probably Indian via Australia.  He has some kind of heavy-equipment franchise for multiple countries, and he travels quite a bit.  He’s a big guy who looks very, very strong, and he’s got a big voice to match.  About fifty years old.  He is very friendly to everybody, but with undertones of the sadness that is often found in expats.  A sadness, if I may wax personal for a moment, that is mitigated by the adventure of living abroad and reduced by the absence of the triggers that are present in the home country.  Michael doesn’t seem to be a womanizer, but his personal life is on the down-low so I couldn’t be sure.  I hope he’s happy.

Peter

Peter is gone already.  His lifestyle here includes moving every six months.  He was a very friendly guy, not afraid to sit and talk on occasion, but there is only one reason to move every six months.  He said that it was so that he could experience different neighborhoods, but you can do that from a home base.  I had the feeling that after six months he had too many acquaintances that he felt obliged to stop and talk to.  So, time to move.  No social pressure to talk to anybody in a new place, not for a few months anyway. 

Peter is English, but he carries two passports, U.K. and Ireland.  This could be another way to dodge social responsibilities.  Mid-fifties, trim and not unattractive, but overly shy is my guess.   Never saw him with a woman either.  Some of these guys keep their cards close to their vests.

Dieter

Dieter is a retired Wermacht armored warfare training officer.  He’s a huge, Faustian man with a dangerous handshake, I have to be careful to quickly grab him by the fingertips or else my hand hurts for two days.  Dieter has a wonderful Thai wife in her early fifties; he’s early seventies himself.  Ten years post heart attack, he’s been in Thailand for six years now.  He has no desire to go back.  Germany is a very demanding social situation, and the pace of life is frantic.  Many of us come to Thailand for the “sabai-jai,” which is very close to the German word “gemuetlich,” something close to “easy-going.” 

Dieter’s condo, which he owns, is full of actual German furniture, expensive stuff that he bought on a trip home and shipped to Bangkok.   I like Dieter a lot.  He even lets me “dutz” him, we talk frequently in a combination of German, English and Thai words, and we use the familiar form of address.  I hope that he’s happy.

Rod

An American, for a change, so close to fifty that he could hit it with a thrown baseball.  Rod is a translator by trade, he works the intersection of French, Dutch and English.  He could do the work anywhere he had a decent Internet connection.  He likes the low overhead here, among other things.   Let’s just say that Rod’s not a womanizer and leave it at that.  Rod’s a great guy, and I’ll probably know him even after we all move.

 

Miscellaneous Rich, Young Iranians

It’s such a shame that our two countries can’t seem to get along, because I really like the Iranians that I have met.  Plenty of Iranians in L.A., and I knew and worked with quite a few.  We’ve got a few here at the condo, and they are a good bunch too.  Gracious, intelligent and well dressed, I wish them all well, wherever situated.  I’m not surprised that certain rich, young Iranians would prefer to live in Thailand.  I prefer it myself, to my own country, which is still slightly easier to handle than Iran. 

Chris

Another American with the potential to be a long-term friend.  Chris is about fifty-three, he’s built like a pale, handsomer Hulk.  He does triathlons, and thinks nothing of setting off for ten-mile-plus bike rides around Bangkok on the surface streets.  Chris has a Thai wife who seems hard working and not a gold-digger at all.  She has a nail parlor and Chris teaches English.  I hope that they’re happy.

Baku

Baku is a graduate student of engineering at a Catholic university nearby.   He’s a great kid and I really like him.  He’s Kuwaiti.  He took it very well when I asked him if he was from Azerberjian (sp), after all the capitol of Azerberjian is Baku.  I was happy to meet Baku’s dad when he visited, and to tell him what a fine son he had.  Shameless, I know, but I do what I can to encourage international brotherhood.  Baku seems to have a pretty full social life, certainly fuller than would be possible back in the Middle-East. 

Eddie

Not technically a resident of the condo, but a regular visitor.  One of the most interesting guys I know, Eddie is a retired California high school math teacher.  Eighty years old and black, Eddie divides his time between Bangkok and Chiang Mai in Thailand, his property in Hawaii, and visits to see his children in the States.  Eddie doesn’t talk about women, but my guess is that his dance card is still pretty full. 

Gerry

Gerry’s in the tour business, so he’s on the road a lot.  He’s a very lively companion when he’s around though, and it’s always good to see him at the coffee meetings.  He’s the most international person that I know.  He’s of mixed English and South East Asian heritage, and grew up in at least Malaysia and Great Britten.  Five siblings in his family, and these days they live in four countries on as many continents.  He’s an easy-going and very friendly guy, and I’m sure that he gets along very well anywhere in the world.  He has a nice Thai wife and I hope that they are both very happy.

David

David is a grad student around here somewhere.   He’s from Tanzania, the part where most people are Christian.  (I forget which is which, the island or the mainland.)   David is a very bright, personable young man, anybody would like him immediately.   He’s a tall, trim handsome guy, that blacker-than-black that is much more common in Africa than it is in America.  He’d like to stay in Thailand after he graduates, which I think is only sensible.   I hope that all of his dreams come true.

The Japanese Family Man

I feel bad that I don’t remember this fellows name, we’ve spoken so many times.   He’s in his early thirties I’d say, married to a Cambodian woman, they have two children.  They are one of the handsomest families in the world, without a doubt.  All four of them, if you met them, you’d say, wow, that’s a handsome man; a beautiful woman; extravagantly attractive child.  All very nice too.  Loving couple; well adjusted children.  The older boy speaks Cambodian with his mom, understands Japanese but choses to respond in Thai or English.  He floats effortlessly between these languages.  So they are wildly international, this family.  I’m happy to know them.

Miscellaneous Antisocial Runaways

Oh, I’m not being cruel, Thailand is full of them.  Guys who couldn’t get laid in their home countries if they found themselves in a whore-house with a stack of hundred dollar bills; guys with appetites that they could not quench back home; guys that just can’t get along with anybody; guys with personalities so disagreeable that the only thing they can do is move to a place where they don’t speak the language and where teaching English is a readily obtainable job.  We’ve got those, from a long list of countries.  Some of them can’t look anybody in the eye; some chose not to.  Some are scrounges; some deeply disturbed; some merely shit-for-brained.  We’re lucky, I suppose, only one seems like he could be actually dangerous. 

The Football Players

We now have a group of African football (soccer) players living here in rentals.  A big energy drink company with its headquarters in the area hired a team wholesale and installed them here.  They are a good bunch.  I see them in Thai Premier League games on TV sometimes, I root for them.   Many of them have home-country wives or girlfriends in tow.  I wish them all well.

That’s all that I’m remembering right now.  It’s a start.  Maybe it’s not even interesting, to anybody but me that is.  Might come in handy someday though, after the forgetting has gotten well under way.