The last picture today reminded me of my kids. They, the kids, used to make faces at the camera. I used to be frustrated, but then I gave up. Looking back at an old picture of me from Thailand, I know where my kids got that. I guess face making is a genetic component carried in one of the 23 shared pairs. I wonder if you can modify that. Probably not in my case. My wife was involved in theater, and when she makes faces, she makes BIG faces. The second picture is the one I want to focus on today. Not that the 3rd and 4th pictures aren’t worthy of words. They are truly wonderful pictures of my family and our housekeeper’s daughter (Mao), who came with us (she was my sister’s dearest friend in Thailand).
Our housekeeper is a misnomer. Patana was the one constant after we arrived in Thailand. She made lunch for us every day. I would come home from school right before noon, and Patana was always there, ready to make lunch. She, Patana, came to visit us in the US a few years later. Her husband was a player in the Thai National Symphony (he played the Trombone). But the second picture is of the Sunday market. I miss the Sunday market. There are farmers’ markets in Maryland, and we go to them occasionally. They are not the same as the Sunday market in Bangkok. First, farmers markets in the US are small, at least the ones in Maryland are very small.
The Sunday market was huge. It sat on a field, and tents were raised Saturday afternoon. Table after table of the most amazing things was then laid out. For the Arlo Guthrie fans in the audience, it, the Sunday Market, was like Alice’s Restaurant. “You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant (except Alice).” There was table after table of toys. Table after table of foods you never see in the US. Rambutan, Durian, Pineapple, and so much more. I remember dad buying a Durian. Patana yelled at him when she came to the house on Monday. We, dad, and I opened the Durian in the kitchen. The apartment smelled of death or whatever scent you assign to Durian. She pointed to the back porch off the kitchen. “you open Durian there,” she said.
I miss the Sunday markets!