DINNER AT THE PLACE WITH NO NAME

One rainy night in Bangkok

Paraphernalia sitting atop an improvised wet wooden table covered up in plastic that protects the fur of the fake plastic chinese rabbit that waves it's hand next to a hand crafted buddha collection. A black cat, Cleopatric elegance (this is the Borges in me, Cleopatric means with an attribute that belongs or can be measured only when compared to Cleopatra) and white boots. Incense burns without complaining. I am instantly seduced by all of its decadence. By the soft lights and by the computer typed menu, almost same same as any other Thai-full of errorsEnglish menu in the city. Only that this one's a rainbow of selection. We all know my fate.

Eight marble topped tables stand in a brick orange colonial floor. The walls are half hi dressed in wood and the top half is a wasted white with Pepsi Cola signs from the old days, very vintage, very soulful. The bar is so simple, also in wood with some heavy iron elements, God knows what they are used for! But they look great where they stand. An even simpler woman in a purple cotton tee. Time has consumed her while she polished the beer glasses that she still does now, with the same passion that I go to the dentist. Nevertheless she puts all down and welcomes me, brings a menu. Beautiful teeth by the way. Green lanterns hang from the walls and set up the perfect ambiance together with the romantic music -a bit cheap and generic, but at least is not what we hear every day at every time in every radio station in every country of the world- For a change, I prefer this asian language ballads under the green lights in the wooden tavern.

I talk to you now. What are you doing so far away from me for so long now? I do not understand. But let us not get lost in a world of lament words, right? For bad things can always get worse until they begin getting better. So let me go on sharing this dinner with you. 

The simple lady brings the beer I order. With automatic flair pours it into the glass, tilting it to a perfect angle. As she walks her nervous smile away I follow her with with my look. She's my prey now. Maybe that's why she's nervous. I observe her because I have fallen in love with her, her simplicity, her acceptance, and the beauty she radiates. Behind the bar sliding wooden doors are opened to the kitchen. All I see is just the feet of someone laying on the floor. Dare say it's a man by choice and size of shoes. And I see one foot dressed up in a Minnie Mouse sock and a Mary Jane rocking back and forth. Young love is in the air. That's my bet after seeing the three feet.

There are a few other tables occupied, all males. It makes no difference, or yes. The overall volume of the place is low, the tone relaxed. They are thai. They drink Heineken. I drink Chang when my spicy green mango and shrimp salad arrives. At first sight  as post flight, post massage hungry as you can only imagine I was, I thought it was small. (And no, no steamed rice bowl on the side for me, thank you very much). On second thought though, because of my eating speed I dare say it will be OK. And on a third observation, I could only finish it because I loved it! But not because I was still hungry (and yeah, it was only like two spoonfuls left).

One of my favorite of all things is happening outside this magic box I'm in. There is an umbrella's parade. All sizes colors and heights walk by. Some annoyed by the rain again, others  i m m u n e  to the monsoon season, gringos still under the blissful effect of massage don't even realize how it's pouring, some damn the careless buses that sprinkle water all over the place as if a water war. It feels like the world could end right now, sinking. Little by little. It rains so much I can see rain ghosts coming and going down the street. I love it!

a) Too spicy.

b) Too much AC at the massage. 

c) Wet feet.

d) All of the above. 

D.  I need to blow my nose epically. Only that if I do so I would totally break the whole ambiance, and I don't want that guilt in my conscience.

I get lost in the window and it's many tears that cry your absence like I (also) can't do. It would be an epic cry. I can't because you wouldn't like it to begin with. And because I am in a public place. And because, don't take it bad, but why focus on the wrong when there is so much good? So let's again focus on sharing this dinner that should have been. There is a traffic jam of rain drops. I write so much that I emptied the ink tank of the pen that the beautiful lady lent me!!! And I had to ask for another! This time though it was an easier task getting her to know what I am asking for :)

Should I stay or should I go now?

Should I order the clear sea bass soup or a dessert? Coming to think about it, I've never tried a thai dessert. Not that I need any kind of dessert judging by my size.

Ginger tea or another beer?
Better yet, how about some decision making power?! Where has that gone?

There is a double phone booth outside with a red roof. Not at all like the red London booths. They are attached, so you can probably hear stereo mode what the receiver has to say on one ear and what the other lost soul is talking about in the next booth. I don't like phone booths. I don't know why. Despite I  used to use them a lot for long years even after mobile phones became popular.

There's been an interesting clientele rotation. One of the original tables is still there. Maybe owner and a friend or partners in business. Two thai men. The rest of us are gringos, guiris. All loners, all drinkers, all thinkers. They just played one english song but now the asian ballads are back :) and the server has metamorphosed into a, sturdy, tattooed young man. He wears a bright green -whats with green and this place?- tee with a proud thai flag flying in the back. If you ask me, it's a family ran business. They all have this je ne sais quai.

And my imagination runs wild as the older lady slides the kitchen door closed. Is it the abusing the minnie mouse socks and mary jane young lady time down the back? Or are they slaughtering the poor car to feed us chicken tomorrow? How do cats taste anyways? Would we ever know the difference?

I have ordered the check, it came, it went. I tipped and my epic nose blow desire, my inner peace, my full stomach and happy heart are ready to dive into the rain.