It was Saturday afternoon when I walked down my gravelly street and hailed a motorbike. What I've learned while living out here, is that you don't hail vehicles (motorbikes, tuk tuks, cabs) like a New Yorker. When I hailed my first cab in Bangkok, I stood in full view of everyone on the street, and tossed my hand up in the air. It works just the same as anything else would, but it lacks the grace that the Thai have. The motion is almost coy. You hold your hand out as if you're trying to take the hand of a small child who is lagging behind you while walking down the street.
When my motorbike man came, I got my map out. I smiled and greeted him. "Pin klao Pier," I said and pointed to the map. We both looked at my finger.
"Pin klao."
"Chai" Yes. "Pin klao."
"Central?"
That's the shopping center that's located near my neighborhood. It's not where I needed to be.
"Mai Chai." No. "Pier. Pin klao Pier. I want a boat to take me," I made a snaking motion with my arm, "down river."
"Okay, okay," said the motorbike man with an air of impatience.
I climbed on and we took off. As we rode past my school, I put my earbuds in and turned on my music.
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am; stuck in the middle with you. . .
And then we pulled over.
Just before the busy streets and highways of Bangkok, there's a 7-11 that I frequent, it's also a place for the motorbike taxis to wait for patrons. Why are we stopping?
So my driver could converse with a group of other drivers. He jerked a thumb back at me said something to the men. I knew that was my signal to pull out the map and explain myself again. I used buzzwords like: boat, pier, river, Pin klao. I made the same snaking motion, I pretend to paddle as if I were in a canoe--- It was a game of foreign language charades.
One of the drivers understood and made it clear to the others in Thai, "This feckless young woman in search of a boat, to take her downriver. You should take her to the Pin klao Pier." I'm guessing that's what he said.
And we're back on the road!
Only for a few more yards though. Traffic was absolutely awful for two in the evening. Very quickly, my driver grew impatient with sitting. As we wove around cars and buses, getting stopped every 5 seconds, I listened to the Beastie Boys and tried not to mind the fact that my driver was insistent on driving a little recklessly. I tried not to count the near misses we had with buses. I even fought the urge to tighten my helmet. Just be cool and listen to the white rappers from Queens. They are "guaranteed to my your body rock."
Fair enough.
There was a clear opening in the traffic and my driver took it, and just as it seemed like we were rising above the fray, we were stuck yet again. This time, indefinitely. We were immediately boxed in by the median, a bus and two cars, in the front and the back. My driver's shoulders sagged.
I couldn't help but think that my trip to the pier was ruining his life. What started out with the assumption that he'd take a farang girl to the mall, was probably going to turn into him charging this same farang girl sixty more baht for fare.
Finally, the light changed. Traffic lights here in Bangkok have timers on them that can be seen by drivers and pedestrians alike. It's not unusual to watch a red light count down from two minutes and forty seconds. You try not to look at them after awhile. As we took off, we covered some serious ground, going at top speeds, narrowly missing other vehicles and I felt alive. By that time, I was listening to Paul Okenfold's Ready Steady Go! It happens to be my favorite song to listen to while riding at high speeds on a motorbike ride. You can hear it in the Bourne Identity during the awesome car chase scene.
Until we hit another red light, I kinda thought this was turning into an alright excursion out of the house. My driver mumbled something under his breath. I switched songs. I hit a slow Red Hot Chili Peppers ballad and had to turn again. I wasn't in the mood. Another timer was lit in red and I tried not to stare.
By the time my driver got be the pier, I was more than a little anxious. For all of that time he spent with me would he stick to the flat rate that I was accustom to? Or would he try to milk me for more cash? And if so, what could I possibly do about it? Huh? Argue with him?
You don't argue with people, Charish. I thought to myself. You avoid confrontation with service workers so as not to let them think you're the capitalist "Man" trying to "keep them down." As I got off the bike and handed him his helmet back, I smiled and thanked him in Thai. I tried to keep the air clear of thoughts that suggested he did a terrible job of avoiding the traffic. Could I have done a better job? Of course not, it was no one's fault.
"Tow rai?" I asked. How much?
"See sip et," he told me. 40.
Okay. awesome.
I am pleasantly surprised by the Thai's patience and kindness everyday that I interact with them. It makes me feel guilty that I have doubts or suspicions that creep up every once in awhile. Part of it is out of caution. I am, after all, a female traveling alone most of the time. But it's also because I'm just not used to honest people where ever I go. I certainly not used to people wanting to help you out for no reason in the states.
Let's not kids ourselves, there are scams here just like anywhere else, but on the whole, the Thai are some of the most thoughtful and helpful people I've ever lived amongst. I shouldn't have been terribly surprised that my driver didn't stiff me. I gladly paid him for all his trouble, thanked him again and went on my way with the knowledge that I didn't have to be cynical when it came to humanity in the world.
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