Where are you going?: This way!

January 2, 2015

This is probably the best photo I will ever take - morning at my campsite

I was going about my business, doing my usual thing, wandering aimlessly around on my bicycle, when I passed a white man on the street who was doing something that looked a bit like jogging. He said something to me as we passed and I stopped and, not having exactly caught what he said, I asked him to repeat himself. "Where are you going?" he said cheerfully. The question caught me off guard. Even I didn't know where I was going anymore. "This way" I said, pointing ahead of me.

The man's name was Jonas and, like a great many people with that name, he hailed from Sweden. He asked if I needed anything and, seeing as I needed some water, he invited me to come and get some from the house where he was staying, which happened to be right next to us. I was a little wary of Jonas at first, because of the number of ex-pats I'd seen in Nong Khai that appeared to be either rather odd or rather drunk, but I soon realised that Jonas was none of these things. Not only was he not odd or drunk, he wasn't even an ex-pat. He lived in Sweden with his wife who, although clearly Thai, had lived and worked as a translator in Sweden for a long time and so Jonas probably hadn't found her on the Internet (although, he might have done, I didn't pry.) They were here with their two young daughters to spend the New Year period with her side of the family.

Jonas, a man named Tui, and myself. I was given a chair that was much taller than the others. I felt like Dea.(I also approved of the food)

There were a lot of people milling about the veranda area at the front of the house that Jonas invited me into, and I took a seat at a table that was delightfully covered in food. Jonas said I could stay longer if I liked, which was good, because I wasn't planning on moving anyway. Jonas did his best to explain who all of the people were "this is the grandma, these are the aunts, but my wife was raised by another grandma so her aunts are more like sisters, I don't know where my wife is, this is Uncle Tui, these two are cousins, I don't know who this one is, this is the family alcoholic, every family has got one, this is the husband of the daughter of the aunt..." and so on like this until finally he admitted that he didn't really know who anyone was and gave up.

Jonas, some boy, two women holding Jonas's daughters, a woman, and grandma

Although I was welcomed in by everyone there wasn't a whole lot of English being spoken, or Swedish for that matter, and so I think Jonas was glad of the company. He explained that his wife was busy with her family and so he had no one to talk to usually, and he just sat there and things happened around him. I was happy to provide him with the chance for a conversation, particularly as he was a very nice man to talk with while sitting out the hottest part of the day. He had led an interesting life, at one time making money by purchasing boats in Sweden and sailing them himself to Norway to sell at a profit. In fact he used to own a boat and sail it around the islands that I cycled on with Cherno once upon a very long time ago.

Well most of the day slipped away in this easy and laid back style that seemed to be so typically Thai; us all sitting around talking and occasionally eating and not doing much. With no deadlines I had no reason to leave, and I was grateful to accept when Jonas suggested that I stay the night. The family property actually stretched across three houses and I was led to the far one which had a spacious garden for me to put up my tent. Jonas left me to it and I was still in the middle of pitching the tent when a car pulled up onto the driveway and the man who actually owned this house (Jonas's wife's father, I think) got out. He had no idea who I was, or what I was doing in his garden, and yet he greeted me with a huge smile and seemed very pleased to see me for some reason.

"Oh boy! A falang camping in my yard! Brilliant!!!"

Batong was very nice and, although he spoke no English, his enthusiasm meant we could understand each other about a few things. At one point he seemed to be asking me if I had a girlfriend, and so I took out my camera and showed him a picture of Dea. It was a very good close-up one of her face, with a hammer-and-sickle flag right behind her. "Communist" I said, pointing at Dea. Batong was not amused. He showed no interest in Dea and started talking about some sort of ploy to speak English.

Batong showed me the bananas growing in his garden. Good job he didn't invite Alex to stay

Next Batong tried to make some rice burgers and, like men all over the world, he took charge of barbecuing them on the outside grill in the garden. He failed, and then, like women all over the world, his wife had to step in and make them properly. It was just the three of us now in this garden, everyone else was back at the other house, and I wondered why we were eating again here, and not over there, but the rice burgers were delicious. Then Batong handed me his phone on which he was having a messaging conversation with someone who could speak English, and he encouraged me to write a message, which I did, in which I asked to whom I had the pleasure of texting. 'I am Ploy. How are you?' was the reply.

Batong had taken his phone back and written some more, and after a while he received a message from Ploy, which he showed me. It was a selfie picture, taken in the mirror of a gym, of a teenage girl, hand on hip, head tilted to one side. Just then Jonas arrived and explained. "Ploy is Batong's daughter, but don't worry she is only 12, so you don't have to marry her!" Then after a little while Jonas thought a bit more, "actually she must be older now. 14 or 15. No, wait, I think she is 16. Yeah, you might have to marry her!"

Common sense told me Dea would not approve of me marrying a 16-year-old girl, and so I followed Jonas back to the first house before Ploy could return from the gym. It turned out that Batong had remarried and there was some sort of dispute between his new wife and the rest of the family that meant they were staying apart from each other. Which made it kind of awkward for me to have just put my tent on the other side of the dispute but, heck, I wasn't part of the family, I didn't know where my loyalties should lie. And besides, if I was smart about it I was going to get two dinners here. Back at the first house there was a bit of a party going on now and there didn't seem to be any 16-year-old girls to get me in trouble, so I thought it a good idea to hang around here for a while and wait to get fed again.

Most of the family sat on the floor now, in a big circle while more food was eaten and presents were exchanged. Jonas and I sat on a table a little away from the action though, and he told me that he was still treated as something of an outsider. He told me that Thai people are very united as Thai people, and that it is effectively impossible as a foreigner to become truly integrated. He had been coming here for five years, had married into the family, and yet was still referred to as 'the falang.' We mused on how this kind of attitude would be considered racist in Sweden and elsewhere and had other such interesting conversations about Thailand and cultural differences. We were joined on the table by a Mr Sombeung who I was told could speak English. Mr Sombeung could not speak English.

The family gathering around for ongoing New Year's celebrations

Jonas tried to put his one-year-old daughter on the back of his crawling two-year-old daughter. It was a bad idea.

Jonas and Tui again, who had had a few whiskies by this point

It had been an entertaining evening but I was tired and before it got too late I headed back to Batong's house and my tent. There was no sign of anyone about and the car was gone from the driveway, so I just climbed into my tent and fell into a lovely deep sleep. I think it must have been a really good sleep, because when I was woken up by a car pulling up a little while later and a man shouting "Chis, Chis" I found it to be extremely annoying. I fear I was rather grumpy about the whole thing and even the soft, feminine voice that followed couldn't sooth my irritation. "Hello Chris!" came a happy chirp of youthful optimism. I unzipped the tent a little, and peered out through bleary eyes at Batong and Ploy.

"It's cold," she said smiling, "would you like a blanket?"

"No, just let me sleep" I said bluntly, and zipped up the tent.

I don't think Batong wanted me to marry his daughter anymore.

Today's ride: 36 km (22 miles)
Total: 35,164 km (21,837 miles)

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