from the landshark files

When Ash and Turner first got here they wanted to check out the Weekend Market. As you know, I'm a huge fan of the Weekend Market, but I am aware that it is best to visit under the following conditions: first thing early in the morning, on an overcast day, with as few baggages as possible. For those of you who haven't been to Bangkok (shurely an ever-shrinking group of our readers), the Weekend Market is a massive, enormous, gigantic, sprawling semi-outdoor market filled with everything from ferrets to pork hocks to hand-carved antique furniture and everything in between. Hm, wait, what comes between pork hocks and furniture? Claw-footed bathtubs? At any rate, the market is BIG. And it is HOT. Very hot. Most of the stalls have rooves over them, but then the exterior sections are open air. So there is no air con, there are no fans, and on a truly stifling day there is not a whiff of coolness aside from that which can be found swirling out of a briefly-opened popsicle freezer. The market is also very, very busy. It's nice, though. It's packed with a good portion of tourists, sure, but the majority of shoppers are just regular Bangkok folks who know a good bargain when they see one. Philately fans and bonsai enthusiasts rub shoulders happily with sunburnt Israelis and overly fertile German couples trailing endless blonde children. So to sum up: big, hot, busy.

You can imagine my trepidation when we set off in our caravan at NOON on a sunny Sunday.

By the time we got to the very first stalls in the market proper, Sloane had already turned a rosy pink shade, and just four minutes later she learned how to use a straw for the first time and she gulped down most of a bottle of water. The rest of us were similarly rather warm. We ducked inside the covered section of the market to take a look at the goods that weren't displayed under the fiery, red-hot sun and quite enjoyed ourselves for a good hour. Turner found just the shirts he was looking for - lovely hand-dyed cotton button-downs - and several pairs of cool cotton pants. I struck GOLD and somehow managed to find the bathroom accessories stall where I had once seen a set of ceramic items that I longed to buy for Turner but was just a tad afraid would be a leetle beet hard for him to carry back to Canada. YES! I had found a matching toothbrush-holder, soap dish, liquid soap dispenser, and drinking cup all in the shapes of mangosteens. If any of you out there might be interested in similar products - they also had a durian set and a custard apple set! - just let me know. Incredibly enough, the Turner-Bristowes were impressed enough with the mangosteen knick knacks that they let me buy the whole set for them! (Check out the August/September issue of Maissoneuve magazine for Turner's article on why mangosteens are truly the queen of fruits as the Chinese say).

By the time we'd finished with that tiny amount of shopping, Ji was DONE. He was drenched in sweat, exhausted, and about as cheerful as a siamese cat with its tail in a clothes wringer. The only thing that I had been able to do to keep him going was to promise to buy him a ball. He'd seen a certain kind of ball at the entrance to the market, and had asked me to buy it. I'd said nope, we'll get one later. So, I had gotten him to keep on trucking through the endless stall-ways by promising that another ball seller must be just around the corner. The kind of ball that Ji wanted was one that has been real popular at the market lately. It's about 3" in diametre and it's made of semi-sticky plastic. In Canada they sell these things that are made of the same plastic but they are long and flat. I think I once bought one for Ji and it was, like, a sticky plastic hand on a long piece of sticky plastic, and if you whipped it towards your desk, you could snatch a piece of paper of the desk. Y'know the things I mean? Anyways, these balls are made of sticky plastic and then they are filled with water. The people who sell them always set up a display which consists of a flat board and a few balls. They put the board on the ground and then whump the balls at the board. The balls moosh down almost completely flat and then in the span of about 30 seconds they slowly return to sphere-shape. It's pretty cool. Especially because the balls come in the shape of things like eggs and eyeballs.

Mind you, after an hour of no sticky balls (heh heh) Ji was mad. I got Phet to watch him - he was already holding Sloane, so why not one more kid? - and I went racing through nearby rows to try and find a ball seller. Finally I located a lady doing the whump-display and I bought a ball post-haste for 30 baht. I raced back to Ji and was rewarded with a 100% elevation in mood and his continued ability to walk until we got home.

Now, he hadn't had a chance to actually whump the ball while we were on our way home. Echh, you wouldn't want your sticky balls picking up Bangkok street dirt, would you? No sir. So as soon as we got home, Ji ran into the living room to test out his ball, which was in the shape of Spiderman's head. He flung it a few times to his great amusement. Phet got it stuck to the ceiling for several very long minutes but then peeled it off successfully. Then, after Ji had had a few tries, Phet picked up the spider ball again and said, "I'm going to try and break it!" jokingly. He gave it a good whump towards the floor and - kersploosh - the ball DID break! All the water inside sprayed out onto the floor. Ji turned himself into a waterspout and ten minutes later this is what I had left in the living room:

And that, boys and girls, is file number one from Phet's landshark files. As those of you who know me and/or who know my Uncle Pat, you may recall that my dear Uncle used to torture me by pretending to be a landshark that was coming to eat me up. I was 24 before I found out that he had been scaring my socks by referencing a jolly Saturday Night Live sketch of the time. Meanwhile, I had been scarred for life. Welcome to the Landshark Club, Phet! Population TWO. [Ji Hong-22-February-2006]

reader response!

Yay, we've gotten a response to our most recent post. We rule! Here it is:

"One is never sure if one a) should, or b) may reply to fixedaddress. I often sit with tears of laughter running down my face wishing, just wishing that I could answer Thaba or chortle with her re: her posts.

My mum, Rita, was one of the first 'bloggers' I know of, altho' she didn't use a computer. She used to write every day in a succession of yellow, school Hilary notebooks. Generally she wrote about the weather, and birthdays and weddings and so on. The problem was that she also recorded things one said, so, perhaps 2 weeks later she would say "How did Thaba/Emma/Jake do on their .... test?" And I would say, "What test? He/she didn't have a test." And then she would tell me the day that I had told her and what I had said!

However, as Ashley and Thaba say: I digress.

This morning's post had me weeping with laughter. The gentle readers should know that when I went to Bkk in September 2005, my daughters and son-in-law wouldn't even let me GO to the Weekend Market.... nope not even when I promised to stay in the near by park with Ji. They just looked knowingly at one another and said "Nope."

So I really enjoy it when Thaba writes about it so I can get a better picture of it. Each time I learn a little more, and each time am convinced anew that altho' I'd LIKE to be part of the in-crowd and go to the Weekend Market, it's probably never going to happen. Altho' it should be noted that I was the one who went on line to some unheard of website and found and sent to Thaba a MAP of the Weekend Market, listing each section, I guess so as to get to the Pig Trotters, or Durian Ceramic Toothbrush Holders (dear god, thank heavens our house is full already!), without wasting any time.

But oh Phet!! To have joined the Landshark Club so soon. Aiyeee. Sorry,man. You'll have to find out from Nick and Jodi what their dad did to them, and if they've recovered, yet.

Love to all, and thanks for the posts Thaba, they keep us all involved with your lives, even tho' you're so far away.

Mum/mil/Margie/Grammie-0:)"

A big PS from fixed address to all our readers: you both MAY and SHOULD reply to fixed address any time you'd like! Send comments or queries to my hotmail address, or the address listed under the 'contact' button on the right --->