Thailand and Culture
March 9, 1999
Returning to the United States after a month in Thailand, it seems natural to compare the cultures. One major difference was encountered in the United Airlines flight from Hong Kong to the United States. Our cheerful and friendly stewardess spoke excellent English – I could hear and understand almost every word. When I ordered fish cakes with noodles for breakfast, she understood exactly what I wanted. No need to make a swimming motion with my hands or anything. Maybe our mutual understand of the language was because she was an American citizen. Even before she first spoke I had a strong inkling that she was either a northern European or American because she filled the isle. None of the slender grace of the Thai stewardesses. When this lady came down the isle, her large hips hammered my shoulder whenever she walked by. She was a near-perpetual alarm clock, who terminated my short slumbers for something like 18 consecutive hours. Being in a state of stupor from lack of sleep, I could sleep through the screams of a very unhappy Chinese baby across the isle, but there was no way to sleep through the physical abuse inflicted by those dangerous hips.
It is not that she intentionally hit me as she walked by, she could not help it! Her other hip hit the guy on the opposite side of the isle every time she walked by. She was not a really big woman, just maybe a little more than average for an American woman in hip-width dimensions. But to be fair to her, part of the blame must be placed on the close quarters experienced on the second (economy) class seating arrangement. The seats and the isle are so narrow that it was impossible for me to lean over to the right side of the seat to avoid the cruel and unusual punishment that she repeatedly inflicted upon my left shoulder. The seats are also placed so closely together that I could begin to sympathize with the chickens crammed into in a small cage being transported to a Thai market. Being stuck in the small space for such a long time comes close to triggering a major case of claustrophobia. I tried to focus on the fact that we obtained two round trip tickets to Thailand for only $1400 and that no one forced me into this “cage.” But it certainly reinforced the notion of my fundamental distaste for the confinement one endures during airline travel.
Part of this distaste is due to the loss of control over my own destiny. Once I climb into the seat of an airplane, I give up vehicular control to the pilot, a bunch of computers, and some air control guy sitting somewhere in a dark tower. Sure, I know, they provide one the safest means of transportation ever invented, but I just hope they are not all as sleepy as I am. When driving my motorhome down the highway, I can stop whenever I want to find a snack or for some other diversion. As a passenger in an aircraft, I am totally dependent on the goodwill of the hostess. In a sense, she is my servant – whenever I push the hostess button on my seat arm, she will come to serve me -- unless the captain has informed us to fasten our seat belts because of turbulence. Then, not only will she not come to my assistance, I can’t even go to the potty. But even if the seat belt sign is not on, it is difficult to pass up and down the isle because it is blocked by a really big guy standing in the isle while trying to convince his wife that he has not had too much to drink and that he is going to have another beer whether she likes it or not. You probably know this guy. He is the same one whose bulk stands between you and the movie screen whenever the action is really exciting.
Another cultural difference struck me when I returned to my motorhome and plugged in the laptop computer. No longer do I need the 220 volt apparatus that fits on the end of my 110 volt electrical plug. When I plug into the 110 volt receptacle, I no longer sense the disconcerting small bolt of lightning that crackles whenever a 220 volt connection is made. Makes me wonder if it just fried the computers processor, hard disk, or some other vital component.
Using the word “fried” reminds me of the young lady in a TAT (Thai Authority of Thailand) center who, while explaining the history of Ayutthaya, said that the Burmese “fried “ this ancient capitol of Thailand during one of their major invasions. She repeated this word several times before I realized that she meant that they torched and burned the city. Such misuse of the English language was common during our travels. I am not being critical -- I have a great appreciation and respect for their attempts to communicate in my native language instead of their own. Beats the heck out of sign language! I understand when groups of kids we meet in the National Parks break into almost hysterical laughter at my mispronunciation of the Thai words “sa-wut dee krup” -- meaning “hello.” They do not mean to be insulting, it is just that my mispronunciation of their language is funny to them. What the heck! If I can bring a little joy into someone’s life through the simple process of mangling their language, why not?
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