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Living In Rhek Thum

HeijoshinCool

By HeijoshinCool
in ASEAN NOW Community Pub

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HeijoshinCool Platinum Member

HeijoshinCool

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Across from where I eat noodle soup—Gǔuaidtǐiao de Rhek Thum—I was thrilled to see someone start building a coffee shop.

       Let’s stop here. Allow me to put this in perspective, so my level of enthusiasm can be understood by those of you living it up in Bangkok.

       Or Phuket.

       Or Pattaya.

       Or, for that matter, twenty miles outside Buriram.

       Rhek Thum is a hole containing 3000 people. But there are 67 hair salons. Yes, indeed there are. And 11 new-motorbike sales shops, 4 barbers, 92 purveyors of iced-coffee, 48 motorbike repair shops, 1 cow-boxing club, 7 motorbike accessory shops, 5 pharmacies all of whom insist aspirin is absolutely lethal, 1 dingy beer bar, 4 party/wedding/funeral table & chair rental shops, 1 cop shop (no, not that kind), the kind that sells stolen motorbikes whose owners “lost” the green book (but the cop who owns it can ‘arrange” for a new one), 9 rice shops, 4 motorbike seat upholstery shops, 7 internet shops crammed with kids required to wear headphones but screaming whenever scoring, and 347 we-sell-soda-in-bags-and-beer-and-deep-fried-hotdog-nuggets-from-our-living-room shops.

       But no coffee shop.

       The nearest one is 40 klicks north, in a town of 8,000, called Ohm Phit.

       How did I know it would be a coffee shop? Because the very first thing the artistic owner did was erect a sign in front of the derelict building that would become the coffee shop. It bore a hand-painted cup of cappuccino, soft curls of steam drifting heavenward.

       And, just beneath the drawing, he wrote the word COFFEE.

       In English. Like he knew I was watching.

       Over the next two years (yes, two years), the coffee connoisseur carefully constructed, sans power tools, his tiny café from timeworn materials; old planks and rough brick and used windows. Shabby chic, warm and welcoming. On a cooling river, with a patio surrounded by lots of trees and plants, it would become a fine retreat to enjoy a latte, and I happily monitored progress over 200 bowls of soup.

       Then, just before the grand opening, two more signs:

       “SUK-MENOW COFFEE” (No, I’m not making this up, husband and wife team I guess, though their names could’ve been better transliterated into English—but nobody asked me.)

       And:

       “FREE WI-FI.”

       What could go wrong?

       Nothing. I am a positive thinker.

       The big day arrives:

       “Hello. Have Wi-Fi, yes?”

       Big smile, sharp nod.

       “Have, sir.”

       I grab a shady table next to a burbling koi pond, take out my MacBook Air, settle in for the afternoon.

       “Drink what, sir?”

       “Give latte hot, sir.”

       Shakes head like I should know better.

       “No have.”

       Maybe in my haste, my Thai was off. I say it again, carefully enunciating.

       He repeats, carefully enunciating, “No. Have.”

       “Uhm … coffee … black?”

       “No have.”

       “Uhm … coffee …what?”

       “Coffee no have.”

       After all these years, it’s instinctive to subdue the sighs and the eye rolls, and besides, with boozers on motorbikes lacking headlights driving on the wrong side of the road, at night, on a curve, nothing here surprises me.

       On the other hand, I am a bit weary of this kind of thing, and I have, after all, patiently waited two   *#@*  years for this  *#@*  day.

       I close my eyes and calmly say, “Okay, have what?”

       Only silence.

       I open one eye to find Rodin’s Thinker half sitting on the edge of an adjacent table, right foot on the pond wall, fist supporting chin. He studies me, then ventures, “Mocha,” as if offering to create something specifically to fit my lifestyle.

       Well, mocha traditionally means a very fine quality coffee (though probably not in Rhek Thum), but to most folks it just means coffee with chocolate, and since I’m otherwise at a loss to salvage a two year dream, I sigh, “Give mocha.”

       He nods agreeably and leaves.

       I try the Wi-Fi.

       Nope.

       “Wi-Fi?”

       He apologetically jogs outside, and sets his phone on my table with a proud smile.

       “This what?” I ask.

       “Hot Spot.”

       Which, outside of something a girlfriend once mentioned, I, being technologically challenged, have never heard of.

       He pulls a scrap of crumpled paper from his pocket, sets it on my table, smooths it, and leaves.

       SUKMENOW

       12345678

       I assume it’s a password, and not a phone number.

       Plates and cups and silverware rattling … and … a lengthy pounding. I glance about with a frown. I’m the only customer. I seriously consider high-tailing it, but I’m the only guava in town.

       Ten minutes later, my “mocha” is delivered. It’s in a striking, truly beautiful antique china teacup, the handle of which I can not begin to get my finger into. Which is how I discover said cup is chilled. It’s a quarter way filled with a sludge that might be all that remains of what I sucked from an ancient septic tank at a farmhouse I remodeled in 1985.

       I frown and ask, “This what, sir?”

       He frowns back and says, “Mocha, sir,” and leaves.

       I sniff.

       Zero coffee scent. But there is something chocolaty going on. And there’s also something … very out of place.

       I sniff again.

       No way.

       I tilt the cup and when the goop eventually arrives, I touch it with my tongue. I gag. It is perfume. It’s chocolate powder partially dissolved in a cloying liquid.

       I rinse with my free glass of water and my computer chimes.

       As I start reading my email, six late-teen boys zoom up on two 110cc motorbikes with mufflers punctured to sound like 1200cc Harleys. They grab the table next to mine, and, bumping knees and shoulders, fire up Facebook and Line and porn sites on cellphones and i-Pads.

       My Hot Spot freezes.

       I leave fifty baht for my glass of free water, and I go home.

            There I stand in my kitchen and caress a fragile glass kitchen appliance, knowing that if, while living in Rhek Thum, I ever break my French press, I will break with it.

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HeijoshinCool Platinum Member

HeijoshinCool

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Only 67 hair salons, I see a vast untapped potential there.

.

 

There actually are 67 at last count. The GF and I walked the main roads a year ago, and did our own census. This does count those in someone's front room of their house. 

 

All the other figures are pretty accurate, too, except perhaps the iced drinks and hot dog nugget merchants. There's probably more.

 

Can you say, "Stay with the herd?"

 

Oddly, no one sells Phad Thai.

Payboy Diamond Member

Payboy

Posted
Posted

 

Only 67 hair salons, I see a vast untapped potential there.

.

 

There actually are 67 at last count. The GF and I walked the main roads a year ago, and did our own census. This does count those in someone's front room of their house. 

 

All the other figures are pretty accurate, too, except perhaps the iced drinks and hot dog nugget merchants. There's probably more.

 

Can you say, "Stay with the herd?"

 

Oddly, no one sells Phad Thai.

 

 

No Phad Thai? That Gǔuaidtǐiao de Rhek Thum is a no go for me, even if they have a bog roll on the table.

HeijoshinCool Platinum Member

HeijoshinCool

Posted
  • Author
Posted

 

 

Only 67 hair salons, I see a vast untapped potential there.

.

 

There actually are 67 at last count. The GF and I walked the main roads a year ago, and did our own census. This does count those in someone's front room of their house. 

 

All the other figures are pretty accurate, too, except perhaps the iced drinks and hot dog nugget merchants. There's probably more.

 

Can you say, "Stay with the herd?"

 

Oddly, no one sells Phad Thai.

 

 

No Phad Thai? That Gǔuaidtǐiao de Rhek Thum is a no go for me, even if they have a bog roll on the table.

 

.

Where else would you expect to find toilet paper in Thailand, if not on the restaurant tables?

 

It's actually quite decent. One of only three in Rhek Thum that I'll eat at.

 

(Though the Maitre'd is a bit snuffy.)

JLCrab Ruby Member

JLCrab

Posted
Posted

From the screenplay for Good Morning, Vietnam:

 

Lieutenant Steven Hauk: ... well, comedy is kind of a hobby of mine. Well, actually, it's a little more than just a hobby, Reader's Digest is considering publishing two of my jokes.

HeijoshinCool Platinum Member

HeijoshinCool

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From the screenplay for Good Morning, Vietnam:

 

Lieutenant Steven Hauk: ... well, comedy is kind of a hobby of mine. Well, actually, it's a little more than just a hobby, Reader's Digest is considering publishing two of my jokes.

.

 

Does this mean you are going to send Reader's Digest post #12?

JLCrab Ruby Member

JLCrab

Posted
Posted

 

From the screenplay for Good Morning, Vietnam:

 

Lieutenant Steven Hauk: ... well, comedy is kind of a hobby of mine. Well, actually, it's a little more than just a hobby, Reader's Digest is considering publishing two of my jokes.

.

 

Does this mean you are going to send Reader's Digest post #12?

 

Gee and violate copyright? -- yours is original no question 'bout that.

Ricardo Star Member

Ricardo

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Posted

I used to drive (four hours each way) down to Mocha (or Al Makhah) on the Red Sea coast of North Yemen, to swim waist-deep (sharks !) in the sea, on a Friday. On the way back, we'd make a purchase from the booze-smugglers, tinned beer (only 2 years old, buried in a sand-dune) or gin or french-whisky, before driving back up the road to Taiz where I lived & worked. Never saw much coffee being grown, it had all been turned over to khat, which looks like privet-hedge. Happy days ! rolleyes.gif

 

https://www.google.co.th/search?client=ubuntu&channel=fs&q=khat+yemen&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&gws_rd=cr&ei=hmbbU9GsBY-7uATi_oGoAQ

 

But this place Rhek-thum sounds the absolute backside of anywhere ! facepalm.gif

 

And Ohm Phit, is that near the armpit of the world ? whistling.gif

 

But thanks to the OP for an entertaining little tale ! wai2.gif

topt Ruby Member

topt

Posted
Posted

In between the motor cycle repair and accessory shops - "1 cow-boxing club" - care to elucidate......... wink.png

Ricardo Star Member

Ricardo

Posted
Posted

In between the motor cycle repair and accessory shops - "1 cow-boxing club" - care to elucidate......... wink.png

 

Clearly an establishment for people who enjoy putting cows into boxes, innit ? rolleyes.gif

HeijoshinCool Platinum Member

HeijoshinCool

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In between the motor cycle repair and accessory shops - "1 cow-boxing club" - care to elucidate......... wink.png

.

 

Cow boxing is very, very, big here. One Saturday a month men (only) put on as much gold as their bodies will bear, and bet on bulls with taped horns. It's much like chicken boxing. But slower.

 

It's as much a "look at me" deal as it is about the animals shoving each other backwards, but some of the bets hit a million baht.

 

To me, it's slower than baseball. Once was enough.

 

There's also a bird singing club.

DaveHKT Senior Member

DaveHKT

Posted
Posted
WiFi...customer goes to my better half's restaurant and asks one of the staff "You have WiFi?" Staff replies "Solly no have WiFi, only have French Fry".

Great team working for the wife, not the brightest but hard working and truly loyal. Thank you staff.
  • Like 1
HeijoshinCool Platinum Member

HeijoshinCool

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It is a very good job that guy named Ben Dover does not live there.

.

 

At the cow boxing stadium, under the grandstands, Seymour Butt has been know to hang out.

  • Like 1
HeijoshinCool Platinum Member

HeijoshinCool

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One of the funniest OPs of the year Heijoshincool!

.

 

Like many things in life, it was definitely not funny at the time, but hindsight is 20/20.

 

Place closed up not a month later. For the life of me, can't figure out why ….

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