Bacon and Eggs

Sat watching a jumping spider trying to climb out of my small glass bowl of baked bean remains, I’m enjoying watching the world go by. The choice of CD is a little tedious, but the wind chimes and occasional drone of mopeds helps to drown it out. My 8-legged friend is almost at the top, edging his way with caution up the side – it’s tentative work.

The waitress here must work at least 20 hours a day – I see her every time I walk in to the hotel – save the 2am arrival this morning. That was due to exploring the bars along the strip last night – they’re interesting and packed with a variety of farang travellers. Some rich, some on a shoestring, the language of alcohol and scantily clad women is clearly universal.

And he’s slipped, all the way down in to the soupy gloop of tomato sauce. It’s a shame spiders don’t have a pallet for beans, though I wonder how he’ll get out. The waitress returns with a refill for my tea and judging from the bags under her eyes, is in need of a break. She works arduously and I’ve the upmost respect for her – men in Thailand are considerably lazier. In the middle of the table reside toothpicks, tissues, suggestion cards and the usual condiments. I think I’ll take the time to write out just how fantastic I think Ju’s staff is.

She’s the owner, and used to work as a medical researcher. Her hotel is a slick, clean, tidy and friendly affair. Her crew is comprised of a handful, though of note is a formidably large attendant, who managed to argue the toss with our moped hire man and won. One of the male staff likes to use an electric fly swatter to remove unwanted bloodthirsty guests. As each one is caught in the stringed instrument of death, the sound is reminiscent of firecrackers.

Ju gave us a lift in to town as she happened to be headed that way – this kind of treatment is rare. And all for twenty pounds a night (half in low season).
I think I’d like to repay her somehow, and whilst a tip will be inevitable at point of departure, I have decided to rewrite her room guides for her. It’s a small gesture that will take me half an hour, but I feel compelled to help – only the dead of heart will not be charmed by this place. In fact, if Thailand were a girl, I’d have a major crush on her.