Cooks' Tour Read online

  copyright 2000, 2001

  Dragon Tree Press

  eISBN: 0-940918-33-1

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Note to the Reader

  Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

  Other Titles

  Note to the reader:

  In describing a foreign culture and especially in ‘translating’ from a foreign language, some elements may sound strange to those not familiar with the culture or language. In particular, phrases and speech patterns which are rendered literally from another language may, at times, sound strange to the native ear. And these renderings – at some points in this book – may initially sound like pidgin English. This is not intended to imply or impute that those speaking are poor linguists – only that the construction and forms in the Thai language are distinctly different from English. For an example, Thai – as do many other languages – does not have any equivalent of the English ‘article’ – that is to say that words such as ‘the’, ‘a’ and ‘an’ simply do not exist in any equivalent form. Thus if one omits article in sentence, to English ear, result may sound pidgin but is most certainly not.

  Likewise, in Thai, when a woman is speaking, she will end most sentences with ‘ka’ while a man will end a sentence with ‘kahp’ – usage which, again, has no equivalent in the English tongue. Further, while neither term is a precise equivalent for the English word ‘yes’, both may be used in that sense or may equally mean ‘correct’ or ‘okay’. For an English-speaker speaking Thai, omitting the ‘ka’ (for a woman speaking) or ‘kahp’ (for a man) is every bit as jarring on the ear as is Thai speaker who omits superfluous articles while speaking English.

  Further, particularly in the masculine case, regional accents can render ‘kahp’ as variously as ‘krahp’, ‘kalph’ or ‘karhp’ – all depending on the speaker’s area of origin.

  Two other important points of difference are plurals and verb tenses.

  In Thai, plurals are not formed in the English fashion and, rather than saying “two items” or “many items” – with the pluralizing ‘s’ offering redundancy – an exact translation from the Thai would be “two item” or “many item”. This lack of plural/singular distinction in individual words in Thai can sometimes lead to interesting confusions for Thais speaking English. (Or, for that matter, for English-speakers conversing with Thais.)

  As for verb tenses, while English has an excess of tenses (although not as many as some languages possess), Thai does not distinguish inherently between a past, current or future incident. Thus, you cannot say “I did that” or “I shall do that” but would rather say “I do that previously” or “I do that later”.

  Next, in common with many Oriental languages, Thai is tonal using five tones – high, neutral, low, rising and falling – where the same ‘word’ using a different tone becomes a quite different word with no relationship between them. For example, saying “Mai mee pahn hah” with a falling tone on “hah” means (colloquially) “I don’t have fifteen hundred baht”. Changing the falling tone to a rising tone, the same phrase becomes: “I don’t have a thousand guests (visitors)” while a third pronunciation, changing the third word very slightly as “Mai mee bpahn hah” (rising tone on “hah”) – becomes “No problem” (i.e., I have no problem). Since the explosive “bp” sound is not used in English, it is a very easy – and very confusing – mistake for English speakers to make.

  While written Thai includes tone marks indicating the five tones and Thai-English dictionaries use various notations, Thai words appearing here in the text do not indicate the spoken tones.

  Finally, in the course of this story, I have tried to ‘transliterate’ from Thai into English without changing the flavor of what would be the original speech. In as much as the Thai people have always been unfailingly polite and patient with my own poor command of their rich and expressive language and have never laughed – except mutually – over my mistakes, I can only ask that you, the reader, extend the same courtesy to my Thai characters.

  Because, remember, what may appear (or sound) as if it were pidgin English has no bearing on the intelligence nor education of the speaker but is usually a reflection of differences in syntax and language structures between two languages.

  After all, when you meet someone who speaks with a strong foreign accent – even if they stumble over an occasional phrase or word – they speak at least two languages … but do you?

  For os der taler alle sprog, er det jo ingen sag!

  1 For we who speak all tongues, there is no problem.

  Return to Table of Contents

  Chapter One:

  Baan Orchid, Chiang Mai, Thailand, 1990, Monday, February 5th, 7:10 AM

  Looking down, the lanai – roughly twenty-five feet square – faced the back of a tall, two-story house. Beyond the lanai, the ground dropped away sharply toward the river where four twelve-inch square timbers supported the rear of the platform. Invisible below the woven bamboo mat, large bamboo poles split in half formed the deck while the railings around three sides of the platform were solidly constructed from four to five inch bamboo poles and rails.

  As a backdrop to this purely native construction, between the lanai and the river, a banyan tree spread parallel to the bank, it’s maze of hundreds of roots and secondary trunks both forming a backdrop and providing afternoon shade for the lanai.

  One of the horizontal branches of the banyan closest to the lanai and just above the rail, supported a spirit shrine – a miniature Thai house, in traditional style with the winged phoenix gables. Inside the shrine, three small, carved figures regarded a silver bowl where a few remains of sliced fruit had turned brown in the night air.

  At the moment, the morning sun was just visible over the trees to the east of the house. In places, long shadows still lay across the river even though the lanai itself was now sunlit. On the lanai, three men shared the space with a table and chairs ample to comfortably accommodate four times their number.

  For the present, all three were silent, casually watching a long, narrow boat working its way along the river, driven by a propeller-tipped shaft easily half the length of the craft itself.

  The boat in question was a scant two feet in width and perhaps fifteen or eighteen feet in length. The river, a city block or so across, appeared fairly smooth on the surface with the boat’s ripples spreading in a long, gentle fan pattern, disappearing before reaching the shore on either side. The depth of the water was indeterminate, clouded with the green of plants and the brown of silt carried by the currents.

  “Shallow draft,” Nolan broke the silence. “You’ll see them all along the upland rivers. They’re called long boats or stingers. Looks like he’s bringing a load of produce down to market but you’ll see them fishing, carrying families, once in a while with livestock – small livestock, of course.” Nolan Guise was perhaps six foot tall with the kind of lean build envied by dieters everywhere. In his early or middle forties, Nolan was dressed in a blue knit shirt and soft gray slacks as he reclined in his chair, his sandaled feet crossed and pointing roughly at the river beyond.

  “Do they ever race them?”

  Nolan looked across the lanai at the speaker. A younger man, medium height with an athletic build threatening to go to seed and a blonde crew cut, Bren Thorne stood leaning against the bamboo rail, looking out across the river.

  “Occasionally,” Nolan admitted. “Usually as part of a pageant or celebration. Of course, the floating markets – in Bangkok – are where you really see them. We’ll visit those later – next week. Here in the north, they’re simply river transport and most of the markets – we’ll visit a couple in the morning – are on dry land.”

  “Th
ink I could try one?” the man leaning on the rail spoke wistfully.

  “Bren, dearest,” the third man on the lanai reached back to lay a hand on his companion’s hip, “Do be reasonable.”

  Nolan smiled at the remark. The speaker was Jeffery Watts – as thinly built as Nolan but with receding reddish hair turning gray at the temples – lounging in a deck chair, holding a glass of milky tea. A faint haze of steam from the glass was visible in the cool air.

  Looking at the two men, they were noticeably a pair. Physically quite different, the two men both wore levis and cotton shirts; one with blue and white stripes, the other red and white. Also both were clean-shaven though the younger of the two – not much younger but younger – sported a thin mustache as if to compensate for his receding hairline. Last, both wore single gold pips in their left ear lobes.

  But it wasn’t the similarity in styles, to Nolan’s eyes, which identified them as a couple. Instead, it was similarities in their postures and in their expressions as well. The ways the two men moved, the ways they stood and the ways they smiled all spoke of a long and comfortable relationship – like any married couple who have grown to resemble each other, moving and acting in a smooth complementary fashion.

  “Come on, Jeffery,” Bren protested. “They look like fun.” He laid his own hand over his friend’s, giving the hand an affectionate squeeze.

  “You can’t swim. Remember? So,” Jeffery turned his attention to Nolan, “when will the rest of the tour be here?”

  “Any time now,” Nolan considered. “The Maxwells and Greg Pocolos arrived yesterday evening – you two had hit the sack when they got in. And Tanya Mygent you’ve already met – I’m surprised she’s not up yet.” Nolan glanced toward the sun which was just peeking over the trees beyond the two-story house to the east. “Mam tells me you two were up early. Around four?”

  “Well, not exactly up,” Bren smiled. “Did we disturb things? Sorry.”

  “Mai pen rhy,” Nolan dismissed the question. “Jet lag takes people that way. You’ll shift your clocks quickly enough. Anyway, Sarah’s gone out to the airport to meet Mrs. Maguire – she had an early flight out of Penang. Soon as she’s in, I guess we’re ready. Remember though, not everyone’s going to feel bright and chipper the first day – a ten-hour time shift takes a little adaptation.”

  “Doesn’t seem to have bothered you,” Bren stifled a yawn as he spoke.

  “I’ve been here a week, remember?” Nolan smiled. “I’ve had time to adjust. How are your appetites?”

  As Nolan changed topics, a young lady – perhaps six-months pregnant – was approaching from the house, carrying a platter. “Sawat dii ka,” they were greeted. “Ahahn chow, mai ka?” – ‘Ahahn chow’ – ‘breakfast’

  The woman – in appearance southern Asian rather than Oriental – was diminutive, perhaps five feet in height but perfectly proportioned – almost doll-like in appearance but also anything except weak or fragile. Her long dark hair was coiled in an elaborate bun, held in place by a carved mahogany comb. In keeping with her coiffure, she wore a skirt of a dark material with a woven band in red and gold above the hem. A short jacket of matching material completed the ensemble but the suggestion of a native costume was denied by her footwear: a pair of gaudy and culturally-anachronistic athletic shoes.

  “Sawat dii kahp,” Nolan responded. “Breakfast, gentlemen?”

  The tray delivered plates of sliced bananas, pineapple, papaya and wedges of lime as well as conical mounds – roughly the size but not the shape of a small orange – each wrapped in a dark green leaf. “You like Thai breakfast, mai?” the woman asked. “I think maybe you hungry?” she addressed the two early risers. “You eat. Ging kow, ka?” – literally, ‘eat rice’

  “Tamarind, mai kahp?” Nolan gestured at the leaf-wrapped mounds.

  “Mai!” the woman disagreed. “Red banana,” she patted one group of the conical mounds. “Durian,” she indicated the remaining items. “You say eat real food, not farahng, mai ka?”

  “Dee mak,” Nolan grinned, bowing slightly, adding his thanks. “Khawp khun kahp.” He turned to his companions. “You have a treat to begin your tour. The mounds are rice with a fruit center. Popular for breakfast, snack or dessert.”

  “Red banana?” Bren reached for one of the mounds.

  “Durian?” Jeffery reached for the second selection. A moment later, he continued in a slightly muffled voice. “Different. This is durian? Interesting. Not sure …”

  “It can be an acquired taste,” Nolan advised. “Durian is a large knobby fruit. When it’s ripe, it sells by the kilo and the stench. Tastes good though.”

  “Like Camembert? Reeks when ripe but … Try some, Bren. The taste grows on you.”

  “I hope there’s plenty,” a new voice interrupted. “We’re hungry too.”

  The three men stood to greet two new arrivals coming across the lawn.

  One was young, early-thirties, dressed in a loose, tropical pants suit with a matching jacket pulled closed against the cool morning. In lieu of a purse, a dark green fanny pack rested on one hip. The young woman’s dark hair was worn long, pulled back and clasped at the nape of the neck. Her most notable features were a pair of large brown eyes, an almost Roman nose and a wide mouth that smiled easily.

  The second woman was of an age to be the mother of the first but bore little resemblance to her younger companion. In distinct contrast, the older woman’s nose was an upturned pug framed by light blue eyes. Her hair was worn short, a mixture of blonde and gray in a pixie cut, showing no signs of tint or coloring. She wore linen-colored slacks and jacket – synthetic since they showed no signs of wrinkles from travel – over a cream and blue striped blouse and carried a light tan purse clutched under one arm, the strap across her opposite shoulder.

  Crossing the lawn, the younger of the pair paused momentarily to bow a greeting to the pregnant woman emerging from the kitchen at the rear of the house. “Sawaadee, Mam,” she greeted the third lady.

  “Sawat dii ka, Kun Sarah,” the lady responded. “Sawat dii ka,” There was a slight emphasis on the final syllable. “Not worry. Is plenty.”

  “Mam, this is Joan Maguire. Joan, this is Mam. She and Terry Hollands run Baan Orchid.”

  “Sawat dii ka, Kun Jooan,” Mam accented the name strangely, waaing with steepled hands.

  “Thank you …ah, Kun Mam?” the older woman returned the greeting awkwardly.

  “Please, you sit. I bring food,” Mam nodded toward the lanai. “Then I get bags, mai ka?”

  “I’ll show Tahm where to put them,” Nolan offered, stepping down from the lanai platform.

  “You must be Nolan Guise,” the older woman extended her hand. “So pleased to meet you. And very nice of you to send Sarah to meet me. But you really should have sent these handsome gentlemen,” she smiled at Bren and Jeffery. “You simply won’t believe what happened. Oh, sit down, please. There are no bags. Could I have some tea, please? With lemon? Well, I’m here but the girls are never going to believe this. And what do they call those taxi things? Tut-tuts? Or was it putt-putts, Sarah?

  “Anyway,” she continued, almost without pausing for breath, “this is certainly an adventure. Not that I’d miss it for the world. Has Sarah told you? No, of course not. Not a word, Sarah – I want to tell them myself. Oh, but I’m forgetting,” she mounted the lanai, offering a hand to Bren. “Joan Maguire. But just call me Joan,” she assured him, shaking hands briskly, then offering her hand to Jeffery. “Joan, please,” she repeated. “My, you are a nice looking pair. You are a pair? Is that right? Oh dear, shouldn’t I have said that? I mean, if it’s a secret or something …”

  “Joan!” Sarah interrupted sharply.

  “Oh! Am I doing it again? I’m sure I don’t know what gets into me. I’m so sorry …”

  “Joan! Shut up!”

  “Oh!”

  “Now, sit down and Mam will bring you some tea. I’m sorry,” Sarah offered as apology. “It’s been a very ‘interestin
g’ morning. Nolan? Do you think there’s any brandy around?”

  “For Joan? Of course,” Nolan started toward the house.

  “No, for me!” the younger woman corrected, sinking into his vacated chair.

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  Chapter Two:

  Chapter Two:

  Chiang Mai International Airport, Monday, February 5th, 6:50 AM

  Sarah marveled at the fragrances carried by the cool air – more like a botanical garden, she thought, than an international airport. And it wasn’t just the very un-industrial aromas; it was also the absence of everything that seemed to characterize airports – no extendible boarding corridors, no people movers … no crowds of people for that matter.

  There were people around, yes, but they just weren’t the massive crowds found in most air terminals. Or maybe it was just that they weren’t all in a rush.

  The variety of costumes, of course, could be seen many places – even state-side, a saffron-robed traveler wouldn’t have seemed particularly out of place – but there was still something – something elusive – about whatever it was that made this airport so different from most she had known.

  Bemused as much by her own introspection as her surroundings, Sarah remained largely unaware of the most recent arrivals until someone – taking her by the arms and turning her around – addressed her warmly with: “Sarah! Let me look at you. Well, you do look fine. Did you come for me? And who is this nice looking gentleman – a new boyfriend already? And you’ve only been here for a few days. Well, young man, I’m Joan Maguire. But I’m sure Sarah’s told you that, hasn’t she. Well, do we need to go through customs? No, of course not. That was in Penang, wasn’t it? So, this is Thailand. Cooler here in the north isn’t it. You wouldn’t believe the weather in Singapore. Do you know, I took the train through Malaysia? Such a nice train too. Very comfortable. And air-conditioned too or I’d never have made it. I do wish we had trains like that in the States. Very nice way to travel. Yes? What is it?”