Meanwhile, in the countryside

The road, derogatorily called “Hillbilly Avenue” by many.

As a self-proclaimed urbanite, I rarely leave the city. The days when I venture outside the city limits are rare and never without compelling reasonn.

Sitting in sleepy food stalls, stared at by fascinated peasants, I always feel like I'm missing something. That the buzz and happenings in Bangkok kick into high gear once I leave the city, just to make me sick. Because I can't be there. Nonsense of course. Events do not happen just to please me. Or is it?

In the countryside of Thailand nothing ever happens, or so it seems. The pace is so slow that it seems that things are going backwards. The history of this country is written in the water capital of Bangkok and if rural people want to be part of it, they will have to travel to Bangkok. Something that many do from time to time.

“Phut passaa Thai keng Maak Maak”, crows the manageress of the food stall located on a road, where a moped chugs along once an hour and which only seems to have been built so that the villagers can say; “we also have a way”. "You speak great Thai". I thank her for the compliment, but accusing me of mastering the Thai language beyond kindergarten level is a blatant lie.

My wife and I are in the Thai equivalent of Heerjezusveen, because we are helping my father-in-law (76) move. The wooden house, where he has lived for the past twenty years, now seems to lean against the sky, it is so crooked. Termite armies have been working for years, with the determination of fanatical Nazis, to reduce the structure to dust.

Dad doesn't want to leave. We point out to him that it is no longer responsible to continue to live in such a shelter, which is in an advanced state of decomposition. Today or tomorrow the piece of real estate collapses at the slightest gust of wind, like in a cartoon, like a house of cards.

When, without any effort, I kick a big hole in the floor with my bare foot, I see Dad biting his lower lip. He seems convinced. His new, single-storey, stone-built house is a five-minute walk away. With brand new tiles on the floor, a kitchen and a "modern" toilet, no more squatting happening for this scratchy bastard.

The village is teeming with small children. The schools are closed and the toddlers run – children always run – cycle, climb and play, to me, incomprehensible games. What a contrast to their Bangkokkerian peers who lived during the holiday Spending 18 hours a day at their computer and often having three chins by the age of 8.

On the left “Wat Kreaw”, on the right the sound tower that produced enough decibels to raise the dead.

A gigantic sound system has been set up in front of the local temple, from which loud rural fun punk sounds from 7 o'clock in the morning that can be heard far beyond the village. People who don't know any better always fantasize that Buddhist temples are places where a serene silence reigns that invites reflection and the pursuit of inner peace. In reality, the average Thai 'what' and the area around it is more like a fairground, where the merry-go-round is permanently out of control.

Once a Thai man asked me what I thought of the music playing in the restaurant where I was eating with some friends. “Mai chop”, I replied – I don't like it much – whereupon the man got up, walked to the amplifier and turned the volume up twice. I gave my thumbs up. Thais all have the rock-solid belief that if you play bad music as loud as possible, it will automatically become good music.

The Thai country pop that, as I write this, crackles from a loudspeaker congregation, at a wattage with which U2 normally perform in stadiums, is beyond description. The instruments usually consist of singer(s), drums, bass and solo guitar.

The lead guitarist strictly does what is required of him; solo. On the first beat, the solo guitarist starts the solo, and then doesn't stop until the end of the song. During the chorus, the solo guitarist turns on his solo a bit, and finally, when the singer (es) seems to take a breather, pushes the song to a climax with screeching outbursts. The drum solos, or rather “drum breaks”, are often reminiscent of the sound you hear when someone crashes down the stairs. Not for the faint hearted…

Other immensely popular music is “luuk thung”, a music style that I do love. “Luuk thung” is the Thai version of country music. Slow, dreamy bass tones and organ tunes accompany the dramatic story of the singer in whose life everything went wrong that could possibly go wrong. The vocal melodies take some getting used to for a Western ear - the voice sounds somewhat pinched, and sometimes it seems that the singer (es) is singing 'off key' - but the whole thing is wonderfully harmonious. After all, “false” and “pure” are concepts that are culturally determined. “Luuk thung” is by far the most popular style of music in all of Thailand, including Bangkok. An old joke in this country is that when you reverse "luuk thung", the singer gets his house, his land, his wife, his children and his water buffalo back.

Every coconut lover will get tears in the eyes of this photo

Tomorrow back to Bangkok. Dad is settled, happy and now also realizes that it has become a depressing hovel, that beloved house in which he grew old.

I can see myself finally settling down in a place like this when I'm done. Working on my novel. What else do you need?

I hate gardening…