and delicious live music
The morning after rob took us swimming we again found ourselves in the water. It was unnecessarily hot and as we wallowed in the shallows we all promised ourselves to never drink again. Rob went to have breakfast. He ordered the full English breakfast. It arrived, and it really is a FULL breakfast, its massive. Overwhelmed by the sight and smell of so much food his hungover brain snaps and he gets up and runs away from the restraunt and dives into the ocean. The waiter is confused, to say the least, as Rob comes back to the restraunt, dripping, sits down and starts to eat.
We spend the day relaxing and in the afternoon scooter to the local sunday markets. The previously dead strip that housed the Thai bandit community was now bustling. There was a big jumping castle, all sorts of stores and even a wailing little elephant. I bought a pair of fisherman pants for $4 and we sampled fish cakes, crab cakes and godknowswhat cakes. Finally we stumbled on the holy grail of market eatery, the deep fried icecream stall.
The little man who worked in the stall had the smile that 20 years of dispensing icecream to happy children will give you and he had the teeth that 20 years of eating icecream will give you, that is to say, none. He had little twinkly eyes and with that gummy grin he was our little buddha of fried ice confectionary. Me and rob were like little kids as we made our icecream. He has little pre-made icecream pouches in batter which he quickly dips in the frier, then covers with sugar, chocolate, lollies and sprinkles. The icecream tastes like cavities but its so fucking good we get a second one. Its getting dark and we resolve to leave before we buy a third. Its the best 10 Baht ive ever spent. We say goodbye to the cheery fellow and scoot on home, there is a live band playing at the bar and i dont want to be late.
Remember P-boy, who owns the bar and guesthouse? His blues band is playing and im excited because if its anything like his acoustic stuff its gonna be epic. The stage is a ratty concrete slab next to the bar and its a perfect clear night with a gentle sea breeze swingin in. We have a delicious massaman curry as the band sets up. P-boy has on a red and yellow tie dye shirt and red fisherman pants. His weapon of choice is a sunburst Les Paul. The drummer exudes jazzy cool and rocks a toothless grin, a cigarette hanging five and ready to go. The bass player chills, his head occupied with devilish bass trips and bluesy licks as he strolls off by himself with an extra long amp lead.
The band play and straight up i get that blues chill that only live music can send down your neck. We get some classic blues like 'sweet home chicago' and classic by boss clapton, prophet marley and god hendrix. These guys could really play and they were just so stoked to be jamming that everyone was wearing big grins. The peak of the performance was when they did a long cover of hey joe and p-boy was blasting the les paul to pieces with a wicked solo, just when i thought it couldnt get any better and that the solo was winding down, the toothy drum man entered with a jazz inspired drum excursion of epic proportions followed by wild bass experiments by the spacey bass-o-naught. I could almost hear Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty yelling Go! Go! Go! in the background, it was a sweet performance.
As soon as we got back to the guesthouse i busted out the speakers and played 'red house' until fear of reprisal for late night noise sent me to bed. If you will forgive me i will divert, momentarially, from the main discourse, to preserve for posterity a golden moment of hilarity that i dont want me and rob to forget. I dont possess the skill to fully describe this golden moment but hopefully my shadow reproduction will bring me back to the original moment. Haha i am laughing now thinking about this. The lobby of the guesthouse is covered with very smooth tiles. One morning, as we walked to the door, rob impetusouly tried to run around me to beat me to the door. At the perfect point in this mad dash his feet hit a slippery patch on the tiles. He was running so fast that, as he started to fall, he reached a horizontal angle and flew almost 2 metres into a bookshelf. Hahah this sounds really violent but it was so perfectly comedic that chaplain would have been jealous. Sorry for that interuption but you know how funny it is when people trip over right?
That very same night, once i had managed to stop laughing, we went to play pool down at an open air reggae beach bar with excellent curries. Yes i know what a horrible place. We played a lot of pool and i really seem to swing between absolutely useless and masterfully destructive on the pool table depending on where i am on the beer triangle. The beer triangle is a simple mental exercise to guage whether your next beer will help or hinder your pool endeavours. Simply picture how many beers you have had, stack them in a mental triangle (ie. if you have had 5 beers, 3 on the bottom and 2 on the next level) and draw a line from the base angle up. If your next beer fits inside the triangle (ie. the example 5 beer triangle has room for one more) then it should* help your pool performance (*Results vary greatly). Anyway, during this game Alice did the best pool break ever. No balls were sunk, infact no balls on the table even moved. The white ball, however, knew what it felt like to fly as it soared the complete length of the table into a washing sink full of unwashed plates, smashing down into the dirty food bearers with hilariously loud force.
At home i had to use the bathroomin the dark because the power was out. I wont talk much about the toilet but i will say that Thailand is the only country ive ever been where i get excited about a good bowel movement. And on that note i bid you good day.