Thailand and Meeting De Caprio
February 26, 1999
After spending the night on the beach -- in the same bungalows with the other proletariat -- we decided to hobnob with the bourgeoisie over breakfast. The Pearl Hotel is located on Phuket Island at Nai Yang Beach and advertises as having hosted the likes of Michael Jackson and Prince Philip. The security guard looked us over very carefully, but since we were clearly foreigners (Farangs), he saluted and let us through the gate. (My approach to security guards is to smile broadly and wave confidently without stopping.) As yet, they have not drawn their pistols if we do not stop.
I awoke at daybreak and left Pat sleeping to see if I could find any exotic birds. The sleepy beach-side village began to wake as I strolled along the tree-lined beach. One ambitious little lady was busy stirring the dust by sweeping the leaves from the sand in her beach restaurant. A few, long, narrow and colorful fishing boats were put-putting out to sea in the light of early morning. The guard walking through our bungalow area said, “Good morning, Papa.” I could tell that he was the security guard because of the handcuffs sticking out of his hind pocket.
The birds I saw were very familiar. Ones I see almost everywhere: common mynahs, Eurasian tree sparrows, and spotted doves. Once we learned to identify these birds, we could recognize about 90% of the birds we see in Thailand.
Breakfast was not just a meal, it was a banquet -- for only about $20. The choices available at the buffet tables were truly amazing. Banana pancakes, fresh tropical fruit, several kinds of juices, eggs cooked any way you wanted, several kinds of sausages, bacon, rice-based soups, various cereals, coffee, tea and bread of enough variety to satisfy the international clientele. With a starched and ironed napkin placed in our laps, we felt like royalty. The lawn was manicured and the ambiance was elegant. It was fun, but we tried not to get spoiled for two basic reasons: five-star hotels are not available everywhere we wish to spend the night and a couple of hundred dollars per night puts some serious kinks in our budget.
About three in the afternoon, I began to tire of driving and decided to check out the town of Krabi. The beach-front hotels that we found either had no vacancies or were too expensive for our budget. We found that the Thai Hotel downtown satisfied our needs -- air conditioning, a comfortable bed, and a shower. Going up to the seventh floor in the elevator, the bellboy looked at us and said, “Hollywood.” We had no idea what he was talking about but were soon to find out. A sign in front of one of the little cafes on the street suggested that we should make reservations to see the shooting of a movie titled, “The Beach.” Later three Australian girls in our hotel explained that the movie was starring Leonardo de Caprio. We stood in the thick crowd of onlookers for awhile but could see only cameras, equipment trucks, and policemen trying to keep the crowd under control. A camera was set up on a high platform in front of a club advertising “All night dancing.” The lens was pointing down the street containing lots of tourist shops.
Back at the hotel, we realized that our seventh-floor room overlooked some of the movie scenes. Bright lights had been set up on roof-tops and high on cranes. A large container of water provided simulated rainfall through a pump and hose. When the director called, “Action,” a long line of taxis, motorbikes, baht buses, and other vehicles drove up and down the street in the simulated rain. We watched for awhile, got sleepy and were in bed by 10:30. Something that we ate upset Pat’s stomach, so she threw up a couple of times before she could go to sleep. During the night, the noise on the street became loud enough to overwhelm the comforting sound of the air conditioner fan motor, so I got up and watched the scene continuing out my window. Simulated smoke and rain continued. At six am, I could sleep no longer and decided to take a little jog along the waterfront. But first I walked down to the street where the movie-making was still in progress. By now most of the crowds were gone. But there were lots of weird-looking kids with backpacks and other paraphernalia that identified them as actors in the movie.
No one stopped me as I walked through this crowd as they prepared for the next scene. Saw a makeup lady working on a blond fellow. We looked each other in the eye as I walked by, but said nothing. I stopped beside him to watch the preparations. A young lady came up to me and handed me a brochure explaining that it was a map of the town of Trang, along with other information. (I now believe that she must have thought I was the director of the movie.) I thanked her and explained that we were heading for Trang today. She said that she had a shop in Trang and maybe I would like to visit it. Then she addressed the blond actor sitting beside me on a camera box and said, “Leonardo, would you like a brochure?” Heck, I didn’t know what Leonardo de Caprio looked like in person. He looked very tired as he sat there with a towel over his shoulders. It made me realize that maybe acting can be really hard work. Anyway, he looked up at the lady, took her brochure, and smiled at her. I had been standing next to a young fellow whose presence often makes teenie bopper girl’s knees grow weak. He was a little bigger than I remembered.
The director called for action and all the beach kids and Leonardo sprang into action. They walked along in front of the shops, one girl squirting water from a bottle on another kid. The camera-man pulled the rolling camera behind him as he photographed the scene. Then he tripped over a cable and, bam! fell flat on his back with the large camera on top of him. He lay there without moving while the director screamed, “Cut.” A medic with a bag came running to the scene. A couple of guys finally helped the camera-man to his feet, shaken but OK. Overall, there was more concern for the shape of the camera than the camera-man. The metal flange around the lens was bent. About five guys worked on the camera simultaneously, taking it apart and checking for damage. I decided that it would take awhile before they resumed shooting, so I left for a jog along the waterfront.
By now the sun was rising across the river and the hazy mountains in the distance. A jogger came up beside me and asked where I was from. “Texas,” is my standard reply. More folks seem to understand “Texas” than “USA” or “America.” At least “Texas” seems to get more of a reaction from them.
A common reply has been, “Cowboy!”
Next question was, “How old are you?”
“Sixty-two,” I replied.
“You are very strong,” he said. Nice compliment, I thought. But he probably meant, “Pretty slow, but excusable because he is such an old codger.”
When I returned to the hotel it was about 7:45. The shooting of the movie had finished and the clean-up crew was about halfway through cleaning up the street. In front of the hotel, a single trekker with a large backpack and dirty shorts walked by. “No, it couldn’t be!” I thought. That guy looks just like the Leonardo that I saw about an hour earlier. But wouldn’t Leonardo be riding in a chauffeured limousine?
When I told Pat, she suggested that maybe it was a Leonardo double. Who knows!
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