Whenever Thailand comes to mind, it is always one of sunshiny days and older women with weathered faces, their hands never still for a moment as they work hard to make food for us.
I’ve always dreamed of visiting Thailand, you see. I said I’d try out those floating markets and get my fill of street food and Pad Thai.
Then, the pandemic happened, and all my dreams of exploring parts of Asia bit by bit had to be placed on hold. I used to wish upon airplanes in the night sky, silently breathing a prayer that I could one day travel again.
That one day happened sooner than I expected. Last July, I packed my bags for a 10-day trip to the land of smiles. This glorious place with its impressive infrastructure and fast cars. This melting pot of cultures and people from all over the world. This adventure land of coffee shops and little nooks.
No, I didn’t get to ride on a boat and experience a floating market, but I realise it’s an adventure I’d rather save it for another time with the right kind of people.
On some of the days we spend in Thailand, we visit a community to have a local immersion. It’s a way to meet people and catch a glimpse of their lives. On one of those days, they ask me if I want to work in the kitchen, and of course, I say yes.
The kitchen is hot to the point of stifling, especially when you’re coming from an air-conditioned room. But the smells are incredible. Two or three other ladies are working on som tum (papaya salad), and they teach me how to grasp the papaya, hack away at it, and then cut the fruit into tiny slivers.
As comfortable as I am with a knife when I cook at home, I’m less certain with a knife I’ve never used before, cutting something in a way I’ve never done before. Where their movements are graceful, however, mine are a little clumsy. When we are almost done with the entire papaya, one of the ladies takes the knife from my hands and chops the remaining pieces.
Someone mixes lime, herbs, spices, and various seasonings in a large mortar and pestle. She doesn’t use measuring spoons but measures with her eyes. I’m fascinated because I do the same when I cook at home, but it’s always interesting to see others do it, too. When she’s done, she pours it over the sliced papaya and—in a mix of Thai words and hand gestures—tells me that I am to help scatter ground peanuts and tiny shrimp on top.
Afterwards, she gestures to me to taste a small amount.
I do.
Salty. Sweet. Umami. Tangy. All there. All perfectly balanced.
The next few days become a gastronomic adventure as we sample different dishes.
The love language of these women, I realise, is food. They take pride in the meals they cook, and they are meticulous about food preparation. You don’t get ingredients carelessly thrown into a pot. Every bite is good. Every morsel is well thought of.
In between som tum and khao tom (Thai rice soup), I fall in love with Thai cuisine. With how sweet their cilantro is (a taste so far from the cilantro we get in the markets where I live). With the fresh vegetables and the tinge of spiciness in a lot of their dishes.
While planning for the trip, I decided to put together a checklist of things I wanted to try out. Som tum was one of them. I also listed guay teow (noodle soup), pad Thai (Thai noodles), khao pad (mixed fried rice), tom yum goong (spicy shrimp soup), kao niew ma muang (mango and sticky rice), and more.
Before we head out for our flight back home, I cross another off my list—khao soi (creamy coconut curry noodle soup). It is spicy enough, and like everything else I’ve had during the trip, full of flavours.
Next time, I tell myself, I will cross off more food wishlist items.
One of my favourite experiences was visiting the provinces. We went to see friends in Korat and Maha Sarakham, provinces that lie north of Bangkok.
Korat is a bustling city, although less than the hubbub that Bangkok tends to be. Maha Sarakham, on the other hand, is even quieter, calmer. Locals and foreigners who have been there for a long time would always tell us that there isn’t much to do, but I like it that way. I like that it is less crowded, less noisy, less busy. I guess when you grow up, you tend to crave the things that bring more peace than the things that can provide some excitement.
All my life, I’ve lived in the city with its bright lights at night, its never-ending traffic, and the constant noise of construction. Perhaps this is why places like Maha Sarakham or even the outskirts of Korat hold a bigger appeal for me.
While I am not dependent on caffeine, I’m obsessed with the taste of good coffee. Someone once told me that a cup of coffee has good beans and a good brew if you’re able to drink it without creamer or sugar.
Thailand has a lot of good coffee shops, both in sight and flavour. Some of them are set in impressive structures, while others are cosy little nooks in one quiet part of the city. Some have sleeker lines and more modern interiors; others are rustic and tropical, blending more with the trees and vibrant blue sky.
Some are simple—you go inside, order food and beverages, and that's it. Others have another purpose, like one of those we went to where you can buy a canvas and some paints. I keep thinking about how my sister (an artist would love it there)—where you can take your time planning each stroke of your brush between sips of coffee and slices of cake.
Ever since she started painting, she has discovered that she doesn't like being rushed to do it. No, as an artist, she must enjoy the process as much as the outcome. It's the same for me as a writer. Each piece I write, each word I jot down mustn't be done in haste.
As we pack our bags for the return flight home, I’m a mix of emotions and thoughts. On the one hand, staying longer is tempting. On the other, I want to assure my baby niece that I won't be gone forever. On one of our calls, she asks my sister, "Mommy, where is Tantine?" (what she calls me). "Tantine is travelling," my sister says. As she peers back into the video camera, my niece tells me, "But you'll come back home, okay?"
Our trip back home is not uneventful. Because I am travelling with other people, it requires adjusting to their preferences and just not my own—a repetitive theme for this trip. On the flight back, I am grateful to be alone so I can rest without thinking about anyone else for a few precious hours.
It's here where I get reflective—about how important it is to be flexible when you're travelling with others, especially those with travel styles vastly different from your own.
However, while travelling with these people gives you experience and teaches you patience, you should also reward yourself with a trip with like-minded people. Find your travel tribe and explore the world together.