Lada's house

After dinner, we headed to Lada's parents' house, where we would be staying for a couple of days. On the way, we talked about all kinds of things related to Bangkok. Augie's visited before, and they both told me about some of the seedier tourist attractions the city has to offer.

We got to their gated community at about 10. Their two-story house has a gated driveway. We took our shoes off before going in, and went to the living room to greet her father. I was a little tired by this point, so I can't remember exactly what we talked about, but he's a very nice guy who speaks just a little English.

We said goodnight and headed upstairs. Augustin and I are sharing Lada's bedroom, while she sleeps in her sister's old room. The bedroom has an AC unit, which I wasn't expecting, but didn't complain when Augie cranked it up. We crashed without talking much more.

During the night, I woke up to the sound of heavy thunderstorms. Tsushima gets about two thunderstorms per year, a far cry from the almost-daily storms we often get in Georgia and Florida in the summer. The flash of lightning and the sound of rumbling thunder, combined with the heat and humidity, made me feel more at home in a strange bed in Bangkok than I do having lived two years in Japan.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of a rooster. While that's happened to me a couple of times, in places like Alabama and Romania, it's never happened in the middle of a city. Anyway, I ignored it and dozed until about 8:30. After taking a shower, I went downstairs with Lada and Augie and met her mom. Lada cooked us breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Despite speaking only a little English, her mom carried on with us as if we were her kids, too.

Toward the end of breakfast, she served us two kinds of mango: green and orange. I soon learned that they had just been picked from trees in their yard. In Thai, mango is มะม่วง, which comes out sounding to me like [mɑː'muɑŋ] to me.

Through Lada, she explained the two types she was cutting up for us. The green one, which tasted kind of bitter and had a chalky texture, has a name that means rhinoceros, which refers to its little horn-like bump. The orange one, which they both said is the best in Thailand, sounds to me like [ok'ɾɔŋ]. Its name means "cleavage," owing to a distinctive crease at one end. That's irrespective of tones, which have always scared me.

Lada's parents are both retired from the military. Her father worked in special forces, and her mother worked as a nurse. They live in a two-story house in a gated community. The neighborhood isn't wealthy-looking, but I get the feeling they're very comfortable.

We finished breakfast and went next door to Lada's uncle's house. Lying on a wicker sofa on the porch was Lada's grandmother. She looks very, very old, but cheerfully if quietly greeted us. We sat down with Lada's uncle and talked for a while. He's retired from teaching English, which explains how easily and happily he talked to us. He talked to us about working in a province in northeastern Thailand famous for gemstones, and listening to the Voice of America broadcasts from D.C.

Saying goodbye, we headed back to Lada's house and sat down to talk some more. Lada's cousin, Aom, joined us. Though she doesn't speak much English, she just got back from studying in Kyoto for a year. I was delighted, and we started talking in Japanese. It was kind of strange: Aom and I would say something in Japanese, and then either she would tell Lada and her mother in Thai, or I would tell Lada in English who would then tell her mother in Thai. Poor Augie was off to the side, only grasping 1/3 of what was going on.