1. I am in Malaysia but my mind is still in Bangkok. I woke up this morning and realised I had forgotten to buy plastic boxes for the fridge at home. Chalerm has some nasty smelling food. I put a bottle of eyedrops in there. When I needed it again the bottle smelled of the food. Then my fingers smelled from handling the bottle. This stink is like a living entity. Chalerm and the Queen of SSK test-smelled my fingers and agreed “menn!” (bad smell).
2. I saw a suprising number of ladyboys in Penang yesterday evening. Three of them spoke English to the food vendors and Thai among themselves. Hookers here are fond of the phrases “hello daaling” and “psst” when I walk past them on the street. Psst? Since when do people say psst for real? I thought that was cartoon language.
3. I notice the difference between the religions here. Most of the Muslim women have their head covered. They are Malay. The Buddhist Chinese girls, on the other hand, walk around in mini-minis that are skimpier than anything I see in Bangkok. It is as if the Chinese are saying “we are not Muslim so we don’t give a damn”.
4. I have confessed to Farang Dee that I may be over my head with this web design thing. I asked him if I could consult with or hire a programmer. - Do whatever it takes, said Farang Dee. Then he began talking about a booking database for realtime reservations on the net, and about secure credit card payment. OK, if he has the money I can make it happen. I will speak to my pal in Farangland, Mac the computer guru, about how to proceed.
5. I suffer from consumer angst. Canon, Pentax, Minolta, Nikon, Sony… the market for digital cameras is confusing. Brands go bust. Now Sony will start to make cameras which can take Minolta lenses. Maybe I should wait for that.
6. I had a taxi driver yesterday who gave off different vibes from the others. He had a black beard. He drove with gloves on his hands in 30 C heat. He had a gold watch on the steering wheel. When he turned the watch was upside down. He gave me penetrating stares in the mirror, several times. I felt uneasy. There was something territorial and dominating about this guy. This was unusual for an Indian, I thought. But then I saw his nose and wondered if maybe he wasn’t Indian. His mobile phone rang and he said “The VCD? Push the purple button”. When I arrived at my hotel he said “Sorry about that phone call”. “Never mind”, I said, thinking this was the first time any taxi driver in Asia had apologised for answering the phone. His name plate revealed that he was an Arab.