Well it looks like I got my wish after that last post, the rains have finally come back to Surat Thani. Right now I’m sheltering in Cafe-ine, awaiting a downpour from the darkest, most ominous skies I’ve seen in a long time. Just as I left Em’s house we were treated to an Oscar-worthy clap of thunder that I swear I could feel resonating in my chest. Funny how the automatic instinct to hearing that sound in Scotland is to run for cover, whereas over here you run outside to bask in it.
A few days we got our first proper rain in a little over a fortnight, only ten minutes worth but enough to knock ten degrees off the thermometer. It happened just as I was leaving Suratpittaya (one of my schools) for my lunch break and I rejoiced in playing the crazy farang role. Several of my students were sheltering under some canopies and asked where I was going in such a rainstorm.
“I’m going for lunch.”
“But Teacher Paul, it’s raining, it’s very raining.”
“No, we say it’s raining heavily, or it’s pouring down.”
(I refrained from introducing them to the Scots “It’s pishin’ doon”)
“But Teacher Paul, you eat here, you stay dry.”
“No, I want to get wet.”
Cue a mixture of blank stares, giggles and mutters of “Teacher Paul ting-tong”, roughly translated as “You’re a few sandwiches short of a picnic”. Unlike some of my friends I love standing out in these ways and parading my ineffable farangness (farangicity? farangitude?), giving the locals a bit of a laugh at my expense and having some fun. Especially if said fun means we’ll soon no longer be able to fry eggs on the seat of my motorbike…
In keeping with the last post, here’s the mighty Ben Folds Five to play us out…