Last Thursday on Alberta and speaking Thai

Last night I met up with a group of friends at Zaytoons on Alberta. It was Last Thursday, when all the galleries are open late, there's art in the streets, lots of people, dogs, carousing, and rabble-rousing. Costumed men on tall bikes rode down Alberta, slowing down traffic. The bars and restaurants were full. There was quirky, DIY art everywhere, Portland style. I've always thought of Last Thursday as the epitome of what I love about Portland, and it was fitting that we were having drinks on 23rd and Alberta. I caught up with old friends, though it seemed too brief and informal-- no surprise given only a couple of hours, a bar, and a dozen people. I took some pictures. I got sad about leaving Portland. In turn, I experienced yet another wave of gentle terror about my travels.

I spent yesterday afternoon learning Thai phrases. I can count to ten in Thai now. I can say hello and my name is... and please and thank you and what is your name? I can also say delicious, very good, I like spicy food, I love Thailand... as you can see, I am endeavoring to be as diplomatic as possible. I am learning what's up, I don't understand, I'm deaf, Can you speak more slowly, do you speak English, where is the bathroom, what time is it? I listened to internet sound files, trying to decipher the confusing pronunciations. The Thai language has five tones-- low, medium, high, rising and falling. There's an almost sing-song cadence to the words, and saying a syllable in the wrong tone distorts the meaning. On the other hand, there is no confusion with conjugations and declensions, offsetting the difficulties of learning the tones. Obviously, my pronunciation is off, and it will be much more difficult, if not impossible, for me to master these tonal differences. Still, I feel a certain sense of empowerment in knowing the meanings of these words. There is no better way to learn about a culture than to learn its language, and even my brief forays and stock phrases will give me an advantage that many other Westerners do not bother to have.

And then of course I've learned, "Mai bpen rai", the ubiquitious whatever/you're welcome/it's all good. I'm reminded of the ever-present and often vague side-to-side wag of the head in India. Gestural communication is so essential, and it has its own special telepathy. It is ancient and visceral in a way that spoken language can never be. I am just as excited to decipher these unspoken cues, and this will hopefully alleviate any difficulties with my otherwise Babelian dialogues. I will be saying "Phom nuuok, mai kao jai khrap" a lot: "I'm deaf, I don't understand." It'll be a good way to shake the touts, at least.