IT WAS M
onday in Bangkok and I was at home talking to family and thinking what to do, partly itching to leave to go someplace else. I find that I’m usual y better off out of the house and traveling around, occasional y writing in coffee shops.
The day before I’d left the gym and decided to visit my usual fishing tackle store and have a look at rods. I found one for about US$60 that was shorter than the others and it could be broken down into two pieces. It was very stiff and I figured I could hold a 100-pound fish or so without having to play the fish out for thirty or forty minutes to try and tire him out. It seemed to be wel made and the last time I went to a big fishing pond there were fish over 300 pounds, and with pole rental cost at $12 a day, I figured in a few days it would have paid for itself.
Waiting for the van to Ratchaburi it started raining real y hard. The traffic was heavy with occasional drizzle and it stil amazes me that I never see accidents more frequently. The Thais believe that the Buddhas glued on their dashboards and hanging from the rearview mirror means nothing bad wil happen. An inch is an inch and a centimeter is a centimeter and with those calculations mindful y set they can get out of just about anything. I’ve seen cars get so close that their mirrors get whacked off - they just laugh and keep on going.
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The public bus is often the safest way to travel in Bangkok. I took a bus downtown and al of a sudden I felt like having a beer. I got off the bus and walked the street for a while. Thailand has strange rules. One of these is that alcohol is not served from 2pm-5pm. It has something to do with school kids not buying beer. Most stores like 7-11 stop sel ing beers between 2pm and 5pm, but I had learned from an acquaintance that Family Mart does not adhere to that rule.
And what was less than a block away? A Family Mart.
I went in and got a Chang beer. I like that store because they carry the Chang cans in the 16-ounce size. I walked outside in the blistering heat and cracked it open and gulped down half the can and then walked along the sidewalk heading towards home many miles away. I real y had nothing to do the rest of the afternoon and peering in al the shops to see what types of things they sold was something I liked to do. At times there would be something very unusual you needed that you forgot you needed until you saw it.
I walked along until I came to a bus stop with a roof over it and waited until I drained the can. There were a few people waiting for the bus, one of them was an old man who was looking at me.
“Where you go?” He said, obviously testing out his English on a Farang. Usual y I wil talk with them until al English words are exhausted which may take a minute or two. But in this case I had a strange feeling. Looking at his clothes, the look on his face, and the cigarette dangling out of a mouth on brown teeth I said. “Either a long walk or to an AA meeting,” and I got up and left that dude with a definite question mark on his forehead. I found a trash can along the sidewalk which is pretty rare in Bangkok and threw in my can and walked towards home in search of the next Family Mart. Sure enough my internal GPS found one on the next corner and I bought another Chang tal boy.
Now drinking in public seems real y strange to me. Growing up in the USA it is il egal to walk around drinking a beer.
When I first moved to Taiwan seven years ago I was amazed that you could just about go anywhere with an open container. And you could buy beer twenty- four hours a day anywhere! So I got a little used to it but I learned to drink with a straw. Seeing somebody walking down the street throwing back a beer seemed rather crude to me and made you stand out and let everyone know you were drinking a beer. The print on the cans is pretty obvious on most beers so you can usual y pick it out if you look at it. So using a straw makes it look more like you are drinking a can of soda pop.
I keep walking along the sidewalk sipping my beer with a straw and peering in the different shops until the can was gone.
Now Family Mart’s are not the only places to buy beer between two and five. Thankful y you have your little mom and pop shops that sel beers also. General y, they are more expensive but at this point who cares about a couple of baht when you are on a rol and in search of a brew? Bingo! Found one! Short cans only but it wil do for a few blocks or so.
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A few blocks later I toss the can in a bag on the sidewalk that looks like it has garbage in it. I look around to see if anyone scowls at me, no-one did so it must be garbage. Now I am entering Phra Khanong, an area in Bangkok that has a lot of cool shops and a large open market where you can buy just about anything you want to eat and a lot you wouldn’t.
Most Thai people like chicken feet. When they offer them to me I decline and ask them what has the chicken been walking on al its life? Other parts or entrails are also up for grabs in the wet markets.
So there I am walking by fruit and vegetable stands displaying dozens of tropical fruits, stal s sel ing tropical fish in plastic bags and large buckets, meat stal s with different cuts hanging on hooks, fish stal s with al kinds of fish on ice, fish in large aquariums, and some stil flapping on a metal tin ready to be sold. I walk by glancing at the little flappers and continue on then stop. I go back to look at the fish on the metal tin in a few mil imeters of water. A couple of catfish, and four little fish about four inches long. I can see eating the catfish but what are you going to do with the little guys?
Living in Asia has taught me they can cook anything. Americans think of how big of a fil et we can get. Asians think of a curry or soup they can put it into. I saw those little guys swimming around happily in a large fish tank in their native splendor. I gave it a thought and walked on to the end then came back.
“How much?” I said pointing to the little fish that was stil gasping for breath and occasional y jerking around.
“Yee sip.” She answered. Twenty baht, about sixty cents.
“I’l take that one,” I said pointing to the liveliest of them. She got a plastic bag and I asked her to fil it with “nam”, water.
She did so while most likely thinking I liked my fish fresh and wiggling as I threw them in the pot.
I took my fish and headed out of the market back to the sidewalk not knowing what to real y do. I could take a cab home that costs three times what my fish cost. I could take the BTS skytrain and have hundreds of people wonder why I have a fish in a bag of water that should be in a soup pot. I could take a bus, but with the traffic on Sukhumvit taking a bus or a cab would take too long and my fish would expire. I kept walking where a large canal terminated the sidewalk and you have to cross a passenger bridge to get to the other side. I had been here many times and new next to the dock there was an old lady that sold cold beers out of an ice chest. I bought a large Singha in a 600ml bottle as I was tired of Chang.
As I sat on the dock drinking my beer and checking to make sure my fish was stil alive, I discovered the fish had sharp spikes on his body. This was not a problem except that it made holes in the plastic bag draining his/her water out. Wel , the fish could live on a metal tin in a few mil imeters of water. .I quickly drank down my beer. Let’s see. . that’s how many beers? Tal boys, short boys? Family Mart, Mom and pop shops - Al I knew was that my fish was dying and I had to get him into water.
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Maybe twenty-five meters along the back-tracked sidewalk I see a stal sel ing baskets and beer and ice coolers!
“How much?” I pointed at a round thermal cooler that would hold a couple of gal ons of water.
“Bad sip gow.”
So eighty-nine baht, about $3 US dol ars. “Can you fil it with water for me?”
She looked at me then the dripping bag that had the fish in it and got some water and fil ed it. I dropped the fish in who fluttered around a bit and put on the lid and headed towards home again over the passenger bridge above the canal and to the sidewalk on the other side where I knew there was another old lady who sold beer. These little shops are conveniently located at the end of every beer. Quite practical for a person with a skinful of alcohol looking to continue his bender. “My name is Devin and I’m an alcoholic.” I could see me standing up saying this in front of al the AA people.
The thought was frightening.
“Can I get a Singha please.”
She went to the cooler and found the coldest one for me. There were three Thai guys in back of me sitting around a large ice chest that were talking to me in slurred Thai. I know a little Thai so you need to be real y drunk for me to be able to tel if it is slurred.
I turned around to the smiling guys waiting for them to show me their empty bottle and motioning me to buy them a new one which happens a lot. When I first moved here I fel for it a few times until I figured out how to graceful y get out of it. In my neighborhood I had to get up to speed on that fast because I use my tactics daily. If they are drinking whisky you make a sour face and say you are only drinking beer today. If they are drinking beer, which most of the time is a brand cal ed Leo you say you only drink Chang. Just be polite about it and act like you are in a hurry to get somewhere.
I showed them the fish and they thought it was funny. Maybe because I had it in an ice bucket or that it was too smal for one meal. I opened it up mainly to make sure he was stil alive. He was on his side so I nudged him and he swam around a bit then rested on his side again. One of the guys pointed to a red spot on his side and said in slurred English, “I think he die.” Not wanting to believe him I put the lid back on and waved and smiled as I left. It made me wonder if I heard them slurring in Thai or was I slurring in my hearing? I knew at the next block there was a trash can, and so I drained my beer so I could toss it. I opened the cooler again and he was on his side which I nudged to make him swim again to make me feel better.
At this point, walking down the busy sidewalk alongside Sukhumvit Road, I had no real plan of action. Al I knew was that I rescued a fish from suffocation where maybe if I had been total y sober I may have glanced and walked by the death thral s of that fish, a fish I don’t even know the species of.
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Actual y, I am not even certain he is a freshwater fish! Another few blocks I spot it.
Not a Family Mart or mom and pops on my quest of thirst quenching, but a pet shop with aquariums. I hurried up to it and saw the rooster I had eyed before, and saw him in my mind strutting around on my balcony crowing and later being a snack for a boa constrictor. I walked in toting my ice bucket looking around at the fish tanks that had most likely never been cleaned that were half ful of water. Some of the fish had become nocturnal without any lighting and the owner sitting at a table chewing betel nuts and drinking something out of a bottle that may have had a skul and cross-bones on it. I walked through uninterested in anything but the rooster.
One project at a time. One day at a time.
Two stal s away there was another shop where you could see the fish and they had new fish tanks displayed with assorted accessories. A young man came up and I pointed at this fish tank that was about twenty or so gal ons in size.
“How much?”
“Four hundred baht,” he answered.
Twelve dol ars US seemed like a good price. I bought a filter and an air pump for it and the guy helped me flag down a taxi and help me load the tank on my lap in the back seat with my ice bucket beside me. I directed the driver to my condo and wondered how I was going to carry this al up to my place. As we pul ed up in front by the doorway. I recognized a guy out front. I had seen him for years but didn’t know his name. But the guy looked like a Thai Keanu Reeves so I cal ed him Keanu when I saw him.
I opened the door of the taxi and yel ed, “Keanu,” and motioned him over to the taxi. I pointed up to my place and motioned for him to help me carry my stuff up. He nodded and helped me take the stuff up to my condo, most likely wondering if there was ice in the ice bucket and I was going to pul out a bottle of Hong Thong whiskey when we arrived. I opened the door struggling with a large fish tank and put it on my desk with the ice bucket which I opened and showed him the fish. He saw the fish, smiled, and left. Either he had to go somewhere or realized there wasn’t any ice in there, and that the idea of whisky wasn’t going to happen.
I quickly fil ed the tank with tap water knowing it may have chlorine in it and should set for a day to evaporate, but my fish was in dire need of a large expanse of water with air being pumped into it. Tank ful of water, pump hooked up to a filter and blowing bubbles I scooped my little fish out with a net I had laying around the house and plopped him into his new home. I could tel he was happier, swimming a few lengths of the tank and then laying on his side. After a minute or so his gil s stopped moving and even with my nudging he lay lifeless on the bottom.
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I just stared at him. After al we had been through he dies in the end! From being gal antly rescued from a piece of tin, to a leaky bag, to an ice bucket, to a beautiful aquarium, to a ziplock bag in the trash can. What have I learned from this?
Not to save fish from a fish market gasping for breath? There is a lesson in there somewhere I thought as I went downstairs in my time of sorrow to get another beer.
Yeah, fish were a large part of my life.