The Durian Apocalypse

Bangkok No. 1

Posted on June 17, 2014 by Eddie

Stepped off the bus at Ekkamai (Bangkok’s intercity Bus Terminal serving Eastern provinces), burnt my bare feet on the tarmac, and was promptly flagged down by a copper and subjected to a bag search — “Police Check”, as he informed me more than once.

That was my re-introduction to this city I love perhaps more than any other. He was a nice enough fellow, indicated that I should put some god damn flip-flops on when the pavements are so hot and all. I guess he was looking for drugs, as he frequently uttered, “Smoke…smoke…” whilst very thoroughly checking every nook, cranny, zipper, drawstring.

But, see, I use quite a lot of nooks, crannies, zipper compartments, and drawstring bags in my packing, so he quickly grew bored, and chucked in the search only about a third of the way through. Never even got to my backpack at all; only my person and part of the electronics bag.

This little rendezvous notwithstanding, it seems to me that the military/police presence here is even less noticeable than it was before the coup. Indeed, the curfew was lifted a few days ago, and my beloved Lumphini Park has been returned to full glory, the long-term Yellow Shirt encampment there having been told to pack up and leave.

To repeat my remarks from a few weeks ago, I’m not, here, stumping for the military dictatorship. Just pointing that for the tourist in Thailand, it’s the quite rare occasion on which is even seen sign one of its existence.

That said, Khao San Rd. is utterly and completely deserted these days. Went there to see if I could find a map of the Bangkok bus system, and there were so few hippies there that the three-piece-suit sellers were all over the few white faces — including yours truly’s — like stink on shit. Did find a bus map, by the way – this thing is like the frickin’ Rosetta Stone; so helpful.

Alas, only a few days to spend here before making tracks, tomorrow, for Penang – and with errands and shit to take care of before leaving, and with the dodging of the raindrops and all, it didn’t leave much time for motor-coach-explorations.

I did, however, manage to make it to one Lumphini Aerobics session, and to pay a visit to my favourite Durian Truck. So, no complaints.

Quite the opposite, in fact: as I’ve said before now, to return to Bangkok is (at least to my way of thinking) to wonder why in the Hell had one ever left in the first fucking place? Impossible — as I’ve surely also opined before now – to articulate just what it is that makes the place tick. But there is undeniably just something about this city and this country — a je ne sais quoi of the Gods — that makes you so absolutely thrilled to be alive that you could just about poop your pants.

And who doesn’t want to feel like that??

Here are just a few examples of what I’m talking about. There are dozens of headspin moments like these every day here — many of them too fleeting to even consider trying to document (but lovely all the same), and another many more that can only really be grokked between oneself and the city. But lots are worth sharing, as well.

First, of course, there’s:

Second, this is graffiti, out in the middle of nowhere. (Turns out, the bus map doesn’t tell you which buses will cut their routes mid-drift and dump you out in the middle of nowhere to wait for the next one to come by…)

And, had never seen this before: a Mobile Blessing Unit.

The happy-go-lucky Monk you see here splatters you with Holy Water, utters a few Words Of Encouragement™, and burns rubber on to the next one. And the dude you see in the cowboy hat? No, he’s not a customer, he’s the goddam right hand man. In a fuckin’ cowboy hat! Can you beat that?

Well, I can: When I walked by, he nodded politely to acknowledge my presence, and when I nodded back, he — with a big, goofy grin on his face – motioned for me to sluice some hard-earned money into the donations-box. How could one possibly be prepared to argue that this is not the greatest city in the World? Fuckin’ right they can’t!

Now check out this guy.

Total fucking badass. But still not as badassed as this guy.

Bangkok. The best.

I’d gone up there to Chatuchak to pay a visit to the Or Tor Kor market. That’s the city’s Demonstration Fresh Market, with the prices to match. Very antiseptic. It’s where visiting dignitaries, or whomever, are taken to be made known the wonders of the Thai Agricultural Ministries’, er, agricultural ministrations.

When you’re in a location in which Durian is in season, thoughts of the Durian, and when it shall next be consumed, occupy your every waking moment (and most of the sleeping ones too).

But I’ve gots to admit this much: when I arrive to the Market, and I ponder, “What do I want to eat right now?” the little voice more less always, of late, ponders back, “You want to eat Mangosteen right now!” It’s just been so unbelievably delicious this year that I may have to move it into my Top 5 favourite fruits. It’s just whopping.

The Mangosteens here in Bangkok are every bit as good as those I’d been eating in Chanthaburi and Trat (probably having recently arrived from one or the other…). So retardedly amazingly wonderfully deliciously motherfuckingly outrageous that I thought to go up to OTK and see whether theirs might be even better?

I girded for the inevitable OTK sticker-shock, and busted a move on up there. And, yeah, the Mangosteens were ridiculously priced, as expected. And, but, they were actually far inferior to the fruits one can obtain at any old Market or street-stand around town.

Drat.

It’s okay, though. Chatuchak Park was good fun to visit, as always. And, any trip which nets you a minute’s or two’s time in the company a beer-bellied street musician laying down the most beautiful violin concerto you ever did hear – totally oblivious to the whirlwind of activities going on around him – is a very fine trip indeed.

Well, he wasn’t totally oblivious. Allowed a young passerby to give it a go as well.

Fuckin’ Bangkok No. 1, I tell you!

See ya in Penang…

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Days Of Gluttony

Posted on June 14, 2014 by Eddie

Been here in Trat since Tuesday; heading to Bangkok tomorrow, and then on to Penang. It’s not so much the rain that kept me from going to one of the islands – though it’s been coming down in almost non-stop torrents – but rather, it’s that Trat has become my fruit mecca.

Durian, you say? It’s better here than in Chanthaburi (though not as many different varieties from which to choose)…and cheaper, too.
Mangosteen, you say? It’s better here than in Chanthaburi…and cheaper, too. It’s not only abundant at the Markets, but also walking down the street. Practically every-other shoppe – nominally selling clothes, or seamstress services, or mini-mart products, or whatever — has a big crate of Mangosteens (and usually Rambutans or Longkongs as well) out front. I found one shoppe whose fruits’ signal-to-noise ratio is almost perfect – and the taste is…well, there’s a reason it’s considered the Queen Of Fruits. The teenaged boy who weighs up my catch and takes my money may be under the impression, given how many kilos I’ve purchased from them, that I couldn’t possibly eat anything other than Mangosteens.
Watermelons, you say? Not only the best/most consistent I’ve had in Asia, there’s only one grower working the Seattle Farmers’ Markets whose are better than these. Not kidding. Only one vendor, that I’ve seen, selling them here. He seems to be aware that he’s got the Watermelon market cornered, and also that his are so outrageously delish: they’re not exactly cheap. Fucking worth every last Baht he charges, however.
Mangos, you say? Better here than in Chanthaburi…and much cheaper. Still not in the same class, to be clear, as what I was eating in Chiang Mai a few weeks ago. But their season is earlier in the year here in the south.
Cucumbers, you say? Much better here than in Chanthaburi…and cheaper, too.
Even Sweet Corn: not really close to what one would find back home, but very much good enough to eat. Rarely even see it sold raw in the Markets in Asia, though steamed or grilled corn is very widely available in most cities.

And, you see, I’m not here trying to besmirch Chanthaburi’s fruit scene. It’s truly great. But (it’s been my experience that) Trat’s is both more better and more easier on the pocketbook. Huhn, it’s kind of a wonder I have time to even sleep, such has been the prodigious quantities of fruit I’ve been consuming.

Do the binoculars seem an odd inclusion? It’s a blanket here at my Guest House. Sure, I get that binoculars are frequently employed to aid in the viewing of wildlife. But, why put them all over a blanket filled up with images of said wildlife in its natural forest setting? Whatever.

Didn’t have much opportunity to get out and explore, as the rain barely ever let up for more than twenty minutes at a time. The first two days here, though, it did hold off for a few hours in the afternoons.

Went out to a lake near town, which is 10km to walk around. Unfortunately, there’s not a separate pedestrian trail from the main road, so the traffic noise is too much. It’s pretty nice, though. Some people down in the marshes harvesting something.

There’s also a reservoir about a half-hour’s walk from downtown, with lots of green space around, and plenty of walking trails (with pagodas, from which to escape the latest downpour, spaced out around and about). No motorcycles! It’s great – and surprisingly deserted. Maybe people prefer to go there in the evenings to jog around on the paths?

Odd thing, there’s what looks to be an airstrip right in the middle of it all.

When one walks down the strip, dragonflies come out from the grass there on the right, like five or six at a time, and escort you down the road. Even doing tricks right in front of you, as well; flying backward, zooming to-and-fro’, crossing manoeuvres, and shit like that. It’s kind of spooky – like if one were being escorted by UFOs – but also very cool.

Okay, one doesn’t usually find that many chickens gathered in one spot, least of all festooned with garlands. But, to me, the weirdest thing about this shrine is, why did somebody leave as an offering a frickin’ tool box?

Chickens, by the way, play an important role in the town’s streetlight regime. So awesome.

And this shrine, it looks like a Buddhist D&D game in progress…

Some more goofiness. Anybody knows what the sign says, please advise.

There are some good-looking temples – including a few that are nice and secluded, back in the woods – but they’re all all closed up. Barely ever even see any monks or novices walking around the grounds. This is kinda neat, at any rate.

Some beautiful leaves around, too — and some Cherimoyas coming in.

People-watching isn’t in the same league as in Chanthaburi – but that’s at least partially owing to all the rain (i.e., fewer opportunities to be out and about checkin’ things out). It’s not bad, though.

The cab drivers are pretty funny. They seem utterly shocked when you tell them you don’t need a ride either to the Bus Terminal or to the coast to get a boat to an island. It’s as if no farang ever spent a night here – though there are a good six to eight budget-priced Guest Houses in town. (Hmm…come to think of it, I have only seen two or three other farang walking around.) Also, the cabbies are always after bumming Mangosteens off me.

Okay, here’s a example of how hard it’s been raining. Over and over and over again, the torrential downpours arrive, with nary a moment’s opportunity in-between to catch one’s breath. At the end of the clip, there’s a shot of a tree that came down on my second night here. The owner of the Guest House, a very nice guy name of “Jum”, came out and hacked it up.

I love rainy season, don’t get me wrong. And the temperature is absolutely perfect. But, it would be nice to have some time, if only an hour or two per day, for walking around in sunny/dry conditions. (I did go out running during one squall – wearing only a pair of swim trunks. That was a lot of fun — including, happened to pass by one of the many schools in town, and the kids — nominally at recess, but in reality just huddled together under a shelter – had great fun cheering on the nekkid farang in the rain.)

Also, the nightsounds are pretty intense here.

And the harder it rains, the louder they get. Don’t know how they do it, but they bust out with some bizarre doppler/stereo effects, too – it’s at times kinda like listening to a Pink Floyd record (or what). It does all begin to get annoying after several hours’ persistence. But then, around midnight, it suddenly and without warning stops…and the silence is just about deafening.

In a few days’ time, I shall be eating Durian in Penang. But now for my last Puangmanee feeding. Don’t let their small-ish size fool you: these things pack a gustatory wallop. Most all the Durian-addicts are of the opinion that it’s the finest of the Thai varieties – can’t say that I disagree.

Here’s hoping that my dimpled ass finds itself back in Trat sooner rather than later!!

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Chanthaburi Forever

Posted on June 10, 2014 by Eddie

Festival is over…

…and I’ve moved on to Trat, in the far Southeastern corner of Thailand, near the Cambodian frontier. Had planned to chill out on one of the islands for a few days; but now there’s a mammoth four-day rain event forecast to begin in the next hours. If that pans out, I may just head back to Bangkok, and then on to Penang.

Kinda got festivalled out near midweek; didn’t spend much time perusing the stalls, events, or entertainments; instead choosing to hang in the park with the fruitists, and stalk the townspeople for excellent photo moments.

In re the former: As I say, truly marvellous company. Suppose it’s probably true of any subculture/community. But it’s surely true of the Worldwide Fruit-Eaters.

Including that Lindsay and Rob, the mad geniuses behind The Year Of The Durian, finally showed they faces. They’d been holed up in Bangkok, Lindsay in a frantic scramble to finish her excellent (yes, I have already read it all through) new Durian Tourist’s Guide To Thailand e-book. In celebration of the event, they throwed a big, fat Durian-eating wing-ding on Friday night.

Here’s the gang. A few more showed up later.

Slovenienne name of “Spela”, modeling the Rambutans in this photo, has uploaded a video of her day, which includes a bit of footage from here. The vid also includes some shots of The Pig. I can tell you right now, next time I come to Chanthaburi, I’m staying at the hotel at which they-all stayed, just so’s I can make friends with that pig!

Looks like the town’s Novices got wind of our little shindig and, blind with jealousy, decided they’d try to one-up us. You may judge for yourself which party was the more spirited (or for that matter, which was the more spiritual).

But you’d have a difficult row to hoe to convince Nong that it had been — on either score — the latter.

In the park there are a poop-tonne of exercise machines. Most involve swinging or rocking to-and-fro’ type action. Not exactly challenging. But, hey, at least they promote movement. Here’s a sign giving instructions for its machine.

It occurred to me that there must be an online tool to OCR Thai script, which could then be sent through a translation machine. Lo and fuckin’ behold, my OCR software that I’ve already got installed will do the job on Thai (and many other languages as well). The OCR looks to my eyes very clean. Unfortunately, I don’t see a way to display a block of Thai script text within an English-language WordPress blog. But here’s the translation engine’s output. Having watched two fruit-eaters utilise it, I’d say the translation has nailed this particular exercise more less to the T.

Four. Devices hips swing – and sample pair.

The use of any device upside ft.

NICU gray and 2 above Cote play on the altar.

Fever for 2 side grip on the handlebar.

Brian H. Luo. Channel to the left and right • secret together. Randy looks for the flag Tetum bird hoop back and forth.

Caution

There should catch per plane should wait Im V Eiu sealed before. The slow down of equipment, ganoderma

Avoid the mess I am near the equipment – Karna had ‘?sa work.

Jack’s objectives? Patrick ?t taste of stunning scenery, peaceful muscular chest. The amount by reptilian jaw help pay inflated.

Okay, so long as I’m on about signs, here’re a couple of funny ones. The first is from Chanthaburi, the second from Trat.

This one not funny; but, have you ever seen such a long name for a school? (Although, it’s nothing compared to the names of the Thai kings. The current king, Rama IX, for example, is officially Phrabat Somdet Phra Paramintharamaha Bhumibol Adulyadej the Great.)

How bitchin’ is Chanthaburi? Let us count the ways.

Incredible fruit (though I’ve heard tell that it’s not true all the year ‘round).
Incredible climate – cooler enough than other cities in Thailand to make it much more bearable during hot season – especially when that mid-afternoon breeze kicks in.
Though there are lots of dogs, they’re by and large small, not aggressive, and don’t bark their asses off all night long. Any one of these is extremely rare for Asia – let alone all three.
People are very friendly and helpful toward farang-kind.
There’s a lot of traffic; but as it’s skewed less heavily to the motorcycle end of the spectrum, the noise is noticeably less deafening.

And, of course, there is the people-watching. Most of these pics, as usual, are of people on motorcycles, or of people at either the Morning- or Night-Market. Must make efforts, next visit, to expand the repertoire.

On my last full day, I was snapping merrily away at the Morning Market. Spied a kind of goofy-looking guy in pink work-vest and galoshes, and began lining up a picture. But when he noticed me doing so, I made as to move the camera over the crowd, so he wouldn’t realise I was shooting him. But then he yelled out down the aisle for people to ham it up for the camera (at least, I assume that’s what he was yelling, though only this one person took heed his cajoling)…

He then bade me photograph the lady minding the stall in front of which we were standing. He liked the result so much…

…that he reached over and handed me one of those little packets of dessert-rice you see there in the lower-left corner. It’s sticky rice with some sugary coconut mixture, and then a big dollop of some other confection-y substance.

I did taste it. It was very sweet, and fairly pleasant. But despite I had only a very small quantity, I began to feel rather unwell immediately after eating. Don’t know if it was reverse-placebo, or what; but I actually had to go and lie down for a while before feeling better again.

Chanthaburi, the very definition of “beguiling”. It’s on the very short list of Asian cities in which, if I had it to choose, I’d pick to take up extended residence. More fun than ten barrels full o’ monkeys. Until we meet again!

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“Hey, You! Free! Free!”

Posted on June 6, 2014 by Eddie

Well, the Monsoon has finally arrived – and with a vengeance. We’ve been getting absolutely raked by rain for most of the last thirty-six hours. Fine thing, though, that it let up throughout the afternoon and early-evening yesterday, allowing for some fun good times in the out-of-doors.

And I say, Chanthaburi could just as easily be called Enchanthaburi. The place is just so damned much fun. It could also be considered as Wonderland: It’s visually stimulating…

…its Durian may melt your brain, wacky characters abound, it’s obsessed with Rabbits, and it’s as surreally goofy and crazy-wonderful as any city in Thailand — or probably in the World.

I’ve written similar words before now (see here and here), but, there’s just something so captivating about this town and its denizens. Difficult to put one’s finger on the phenomenon. Think it has something to do with its seeming like a blue-collar town, or like a town that is trapped in the recession-era ‘70s – even though considering its importance in both the gemstone and Durian trades, there must be quite a lot of money here.

There seems to be more less zero acknowledgement of the possibility of farang tourists: the few hotels employ only non-English-speaking staff, it’s impossible to rent a bicycle, its main event – the Festival – is strikingly devoid of white faces. And yet, the townspeople are not only quite friendly toward farang, but very inquisitive as well.

Some few of the interactions over the last coupla days which have tickled my fancy like nobody’s business:

· Festival Rambutan vendor screams this post’s eponymous exhortation at me, right through the big crowd of people between us.

· Dude pulls his motor-car over in the middle of a busy street, gets out, opens the hatch, grabs a basket of Mangosteens, and offers them to me. I tell him that, in fact, I’ve already got several kilos’ worth of Mangosteens in my bag. He doesn’t seem to believe me, ‘cause there’re some Cucumbers stacked on top of them. So I remove the Cucumbers, he sees the light, returns the Mangosteens to his motor-car, explains, “I have a garden,” and drives off into the night.

· Indian guy in the park flags me down, shows me his variety of coloured nuts he’s toting around, repeats several times, “Never illness…always healthy,” while motioning to the nuts, and tries to sell me a quantity of them for ten Baht. I vehemently argue that it’s not his wares that will keep me illness-free, but rather Fruit!, and lead him to my stash of Mangosteens and Mangos. He asks for a Mango, I reply, “Sure, no problem,” and make to hand him a Mangosteen instead. He refuses that, and again insists that he’d like a Mango. Okay, ten Baht, I tell him. He now pretends to not understand a word I’m saying, as I repeatedly try to get him either to give me some free nuts, or to pay ten Baht for one of my Mangoes. Finally, he very sarcastically intones, “Thank you very much” a number of times before getting on his bike and riding away. Fucking priceless!

· Older gentleman (sixty-three, it turns out) in the park takes a break from his daily exercise to ask a bunch of questions. Among them: Why had I come to Thailand? (“Durian!”) To where will I travel after Thailand? (“Malaysia.”) Why will you travel to Malaysia? (“Durian!”) “But…I don’t understand this. Why are you traveling for…Durian?” “It’s the King Of Fruit!” Satisfied, he asks which of a list of other fruits I enjoy, seeming to take no heed when I note that I do not like Rambutan. After another bout of exercise, he returns to ask a lot more questions, finally haltingly, awkwardly coming to, “Sorry…do you mind? I would like to know…why you…” Surely, I think, he’s going to hit me up for 20,000 Baht, or such-like. Instead: “Why do you not like Rambutan?” I explain it to him, that it’s a royal pain in the ass the way the skin of the seed sticks to the inside of the flesh – and it turns out that he disapproves of the Rambutan for the very same reason! All that trepidation, the stress and nervousness, the anomie, the social awkwardness, the fear of possibly creating an International Incident…and it turns we’re in complete accord!

· Three taxi-drivers in the Market area call out to me as I’m walking by, “This morning you were wearing choes…now, you are not wearing choes? What happened to your choes???” I show them that my choes are in my bag, and it’s as though the weight of ten thousand suns has been lifted from their shoulders – such was their anxiousness at my apparent pedestrio-bipolarity.

· And, best of all. Juggling in the park, and a gentleman with a nice, big SLR approaches, requesting to shoot some photos. Knock yourself out, I tell him. Not long after, a massive throng of schoolchildren, apparently out on a field trip, excitedly gathers ‘round to watch, and after a bit spontaneously bursts into polite-yet-enthusiastic applause. (Same thing happened in Vientiane before – but there weren’t nearly so many kids then.) After a little show, I offer to shake one of the kids’ hands, who is a bit too shy, but then the next one accepts, and its off to the races: as I realise that I’m going to need to shake the hand of every last one of them, I begin to wonder if I might end up here all the day long, shaking the kids’ hands over and over again. But they’re very kind about it, each satisfied with only a single handshake, and sooner than later, I’ve finished. Later, they turn up at the fruit-eating competition, recognise me, and excitedly wave and endlessly call out, “Sawadees”.

Wow, one of the coolest, most thrillingest experiences ever! I did, before it was all said and done, hand my camera over to the photographer-dude, so here are pics from my camera (the B&Ws) as well as his (the colours).

Telling you, if, when traveling, you would like locals to talk to you: take up barefooting, and take up juggling. Works a frickin’ treat.

In Festival news, had a gander the Fruit-Eating Contest a few days ago. Two Fruit Friends participated: Lena from Switzerland, and Juliet from San Fran. I took footage with both my own and Lena’s cameras. Here’s the former. All the kids are the same ones from the juggling adventure. One can readily see how much livelier the scene is with them involved!

After the whistle, the contestants’ plates’ remaining contents were weighed up…

…the results were recorded with care…

…and t-shirts were gifted to the top three finishers.

The farang contingent didn’t fare so well – Lena showing so poorly that the proctors didn’t even bother weighting her plate at the end.

In other Festival news, couldn’t help recording more footage of my favourite Propagandistic Orator since Ronald Reakan. You’ll see her get kinda spooked by the camera for a bit. Otherwise, it appears that she’s been warned that if she pauses for even the slightest of moments to take a breath, that surely she shall perish. This, right here, is unvarnished Pop-culture gold of the purest quality.

But this, this next clip, is Platinum Standard. I very humbly submit that you will never in your live-long life screen a more wickedly, deliciously, wonderfully depraved two-minutes-nineteen-seconds’ worth of footage. This clip will make you wonder aloud, “What…the fuck IS this place – this ‘Chanthaburi’? This place is fucking…the awesomest, is what the fuck this place is.” (Or if it doesn’t do, then you may want to consider changing your dosage.)

You’ll swear to your grave that the music can’t possibly, in ten million years, be diegetic – but I swear to all gods living or dead that it is. Oddly, rather than the most insanely appropriate background music you ever would have seen, it sounded at the time way too loud and garish; and I was sure that it was ruining the video. (The reason I stopped filming, in fact – though it turns out to be just about the perfect length.)

With the music, it looks like either a montage from a ‘70s-vintage after-school movie, or like a PSA shot by David Lynch shortly after he woke up and decided to forego his meds. Enjoy!

The Festival entertainments are still quite pleasing. Here’s a middle-school school band (I think) featuring this rather curious percussion instrument.

They jammed for a good thirty minutes after this, before bringing out the dancing girls. These kids are good! (The choreography for the number following this one was truly spectacular. But, like an eedjit, I didn’t properly engage the recording device, and so was sitting there for five minutes’ time pointing the camera at them without filming anything…)

There’s another stage all the way the other side of the lake from the Mainstage. Not a-gonna say this is the greatest band of all times. But you gotta admit that: a) They’re infectious as hell and b) The drummer is pretty damned great.

If it sounds reminiscent to Dengue Fever, well, we’re only about an hour’s drive from Cambodia here, so…yeah, it’s possibly quite apt:

Actually, what I don’t remember from two years ago is how great the music is around town. Mostly, it sounds like it would be old-timey Thai Pop numbers – heartbreakingly gorgeous — and coming from lo-fi sources like cellphone speakers (or what), which makes it that much more delightful to listen to. Have only a few examples (and not even really what I’m talking about), though, because it’s often difficult to get close enough to the source for the camera’s mic to pick it up at all. (Or, like, when it’s windy enough to fuck over the recording, or something.)

This dude, I gather, is a Parking Lot attendant. Has great taste in radio stations!

This street musician is Thailand’s answer to Jeff Healey. Might actually try to take some more footage of him – magnifique!

Okay, a few faces from Chanthaburi. I feel that one could take up permanent residence here, and spend all day every day just noticing the people. So much (unintentional) elan here, so much wonderful life, it just blows the mind. Goes without saying, o’ course, that there are hundreds of times more whiz-bang moments than one ever has an opportunity to photograph. It’s true anywhere one travels, naturally. But it’s more true here than possibly anywhere else I’ve visited.

The Animal Kingdom is not precluded from numbering representatives amongst the city’s myriad of imperially intriguing residents. Oh, no. For, check this shit. Was walking with my Norwegian Durian-fiend bros Mads and Mikkel, trying to roust from their places of hiding others of our ilk, and passed a little line of shoppes, with some patio furniture outside by which the shoppe-owners may relax and escape the heat, and all. And who’s there lounging on the sidewalk next to them, but a fucking 490,000 pound hog! What…is this town, this “Chanthaburi”?

On our way back through, it’d decided to take a stroll in the patch of woods on the other side of the soi. Could you believe how fucking enormous this thing is? But also, note how fucking excited it is to be alive on Planet Chanthaburi! Who in the Sam Hill wouldn’t be?

Wonderland, mang. This place is god damn Wonderland.

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The King Of Ducks

Posted on June 3, 2014 by Eddie

Many is the time all y’alls have heard me opine – and right in this very blog-space, too! – that Thailand is the weirdest place god made. No, I understand: on these occasions you ever and always did muse to your own selves, “Well, he’s employing hyperbole there, natch.” And so.

Here, if you need it, is the proof in the proverbial pudding, sure. Thailand is the weirdest place god made – full stop. (Keep an eagle-eye out for the guy in the black and red shirt, at the :49 mark, with the shit-eating grin on his face: he knows it’s the absurdest, but he daren’t say as much.)

That’s from the Opening Ceremony of the 2014 Chanthaburi World Durian Festival. Frankly, I’d appreciate it if somebody would send this footage to the god damned Pulitzer committee.

•

Have been here in Chanthaburi for only three nights, but it feels like a year’s worth of fun good experiences have already been crammed into these few days.

The fruit-eaters descend like vultures upon Chanthaburi for the annual Durian Fest. And it’s deuce deliciously wonderful to share a space piled high with the best Durian Thailand has to offer among those farang who appreciate it the most. But this year, a handful of cooked-eaters of various stripe have also fallen into the orbit, adding a well-played frisson to the pot. In addition to which, among the raw-eaters is one who eats raw eggs and occasionally raw meat.

The discussions have been lively, what I’m trying to say. Scintillating, like. You drop a group of misfits and weirdos from all points of the globe into Durian Disneyland, get them all hopped on on quantities of same, shake it good and vigorously, and turn them loose. It’s kind of like Ghost World does Thailand.

The only shitty part is some great wonderful friends have already left Chanthaburi, and more are leaving in the next day or two. Well…if I’ve learnt anything from traveling, it’s that as soon as the coolest people you know leave some place that you are, they’ll immediately be replaced be another cohort every bit as cool. (You could almost call it the First Law Of Travel, is how goddam reliably common it is.)

So how’s the fruit? As previously reported, the Mangosteens are outrageously delish, though a tad bit expensive – if having the Queen Of Fruit for fifty cent a pound, when it’s eight dollar a pound back home (and crap quality at that) could be considered expensive. Longkongs are good, though I’ve not been eating as many as usual. Lychees are actually coming down in price; if they get much lower, I may have to dive back into their pool, having kind of resigned myself to having eaten my last of the season just moments before leaving Chiang Mai.

And the Durian… Don’t know whether it’s that I’ve been lucky, or that I’m actually getting pretty good at knowing what I’ll like, but I’m on a really great roll right now selecting primo fruits. Will spare, for the moment, the Durian Porn photography, as I feel I may’ve overdone it a bit two years ago. But if current trends hold up much longer, I fear I shan’t be able to resist.

“All well and good,” you may be wondering. “But what about some more reporting from the Festival?”

Agreed! Let’s have some.

Here’s another shot from the Opening Ceremony. Love how the photographers look bored outta their collective gourd.

In addition to being the Durian capital of Thailand, Chanthaburi is also the gemstone capital of Thailand. So…

On this same stage, to close out every evening (if I understand it correctly) is a different Thai Superstar musical act. On Saturday night, it was 7 Day Crazy. Kind of a ho-hum Rock band…

…but their fans are the greatest, dancing and singing along to every song like as though it were the frickin’ Beatlemania.

Three words — Punk…Fucking…Rock:

The floats are quite eye-popping this year.

The endless aisles and rows of vendors selling strange and unusual foods and/or trinkets and clothings are predictably silly. No idea who the guy is on the shirt, but I might be in love with him.

Sure, it’s all Lies and Propaganda and Brainwashing. But I could’ve stood watching this magnificent harangue all the live-long day. I don’t even want to know what she’s saying. Only reason I didn’t keep recording her for three or four hours’ time is that, as you’ll see at the end, I was kinda interrupting the flow of traffic.

Sunday night’s entertainment was marred by a big Dinner Buffet happening right in front of the stage.

But the warmup act looked a major treat. Unfortunately, only caught the very tail end of it. Good enough to share even the tiny li’l clip, I guess. The headliner was another Rock-ish band; not terribly interesting.

•

So there’s a guy here called “Nong”. He lives on a small island in the middle of the river, and his mom owns a farm a little ways outside of town. He’s a bit of a fruit savant. If it’s to do with fruit, and Chanthaburi, he’ll know about it. And he can pound the Durian with the best of us. (How I failed to meet him two years ago, I know not.) He’s a gem-ster by trade, but also a budding Tour Guide.

So to-day, Monday, he took a group of us – myself, an American name of “Damien”, an Italiano name of “Giacomo”, a Canadian name of “John”, a Frenchman name of “Philippe”, and a Swisswoman name of “Lena” – on a trip around and about to visit a secluded waterfall/swimming hole, his mother’s farm, the Horticultural Research Centre, and a place called “Buddha Land”. Fucking great fun day of supremely delightful company and wondrously delicious fruit.

Owing to the unusually hot/dry conditions, the waterfall was little more than a tricklefall. Swimmin’-hole was nice and refreshing, though. Hell, the fish were even biting, too…as in, biting our feet. (They’re the same fish, apparently, used in the foot-massage tanks one sees scattered around here in the well-known Southeast Asian tourist-trap towns. Basically as annoying as being licked by a dog.)

Here, on Nong’s mom’s farm, is an immature Mangosteen. Beautiful, ain’t it? Just love the two colours, there.

It was kinda like Easter Sunday walking through the orchards, ‘cause there were always fallen Mangosteens underfoot. Pick ‘em up and eat ‘em down, and…may as well lace up the tenny-runners and quietly wait for the Spaceship to arrive, because it won’t get any better than this! Sofuckinggood!

Here’s the peerless leader, eyeballing a Sapodilla tree.

Unfortunately, they’re not yet ripe. The Longkongs are booming, however.

There was only one of them ready to eat, but the Eggfruit was scary fucking delish.

Never heard of this fruit before now – Bilimbi. It tastes very much like Rhubarb.

The Banana leaves on the farm are enormous and gorgeous.

Nong thinks this is possibly a Thai Ginger plant. Looks like an Alien form.

Durian? Yes. Here’s Nong, in front of a two-hundred-year-old tree!

In addition to the Chanthaburi farm, Nong’s mom also has a farm in Trat — from whence came this Chempedak.

John (a Chempedak freak) thought this one a tad overripe, but I figured it for the best thing I et all day. Here, Nong begins hauling out the Durian before the Chempedak has even been finished off yet. John, Lena, and Damien are looking on.

At the Research Centre, we walked the Nature Path in and amongst the many different fruits’ trees. Who knew there are eight different varieties of Rambutan? We were busy devouring many Mangosteens and fallen Durian…

…but then somebody yelled at us and told us to cut it out. (Gotta admit, I had been wondering whether we were supposed to have paid an entrance fee, as much fruit as we were sampling.) Here I am, in Nong’s photo, juggling three Mangosteens and a Sapodilla, as Philippe looks on.

Also gotta admit, crap crap shit that the Rambutan may be, it’s an open question which is the more photogenic – Durian or Rambutan?

There are a bunch of residences on the grounds, one of whose was this friendly lady’s. She was hosing down the same patch of gravel for going on twenty minutes (seemed like). But, yeah: she’s 104 years old. Second Rule Of Travel: You ever meet a 104-year-old lady, you let her hose down the gravel for as long the fuck as she wants to!

Last stop was Buddha Land: buncha Buddhas and friends in an outdoor/jungle setting. Nice enough place through which to walk…

…but it’s really just a very kiddie-pool facsimilie of Nong Khai’s almighty Sala Kaew Ku. It’s like – you know how, once you’ve been Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, every other amusement-park experience feels like bullshit by way of compare? That’s more less what it felt like visiting Buddha Land after having seen Sala Kaew Ku. Still, kiddie pools can be refreshing enough to sit during a socrching-hot day (which this day indeed was).

And that was that. Looking for fun, in Chanthaburi, during Durian season? Talk to Nong. He’ll hook you the fuck UP.

My photos here and here (same pics, two locations).
Nong’s photos here.

•

As if all that weren’t enough, Monday night’s festival entertainment was hella goofy. But also quite good. This clip is parts of three different performances – but they all ran one after t’other; so you could see that it was a pretty diverse programme. Also, the dancing motorcyclists (rejects from the Village People, one presumes) at the very end provide a nice little dollop of icing on the Thailand-as-weirdest-location-in-the-Universe cake. The way the onlookers were reacting, you’d have thought the Big Brothers back in Bangkok had declared a General Pandæmonium.

This dude. Guess he was some sort of mystic, or seer, or what have you. Well, he seems here to be setting up some kind of a magic trick. But I wandered by several times over the course of a few hours, and he always seemed to be either setting up some kind of a magic trick, or fucking around with the snakes, dragging them out of and/or into those damned boxes he’d got them all locked up in. Actually, I would like to know the gist of what the son of a bitch is on about, if anybody reading this speaks Thai…

Finally, I’ve not considered Chanthaburi to be the most beautiful of locales (that’s where Luang Prabang and Kanchanaburi and Pokhara come in…). But on this night, at least, it really pretty much was. What you won’t see here are the lightning bolts flashing up the darkening sky. Alas, the rains they’d portent never did arrive.

Phew! Days and nights in Chanthaburi filled with friends, fruit, fun, and sun. Too great! One problem, though: my dimpled ass is in need of some sleep. We’ll have to table ‘til a future date the discussion of the follies and funnies of the local Chanthaburian townsfolk…

Posted in Culture, Durian, Fruit | Leave a comment

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