July 10th, 2005 | The lowdown by Aliwyn Cole

The Arrival of a Cultural Stranger

I arrive at Bangkok airport in a backpacked-out daze. Having travelled around Australia for a year, I am now exhausted from a year of parties and good Aussie beer, and have little money as a result.

I secured myself a job as an English teacher, via the internet, and am starting work at 8 o?clock, Monday morning. It is now Friday evening. Mr Sudjai, the recruitment officer who offered me the job, is meeting me at arrivals. I join the queue for immigration. An hour and a half later, visa checked and stamped, I drag my backpack to arrivals, where I spy a tiny Thai girl, holding a piece of cardboard with my name on it. I introduce myself, and discover that she is the daughter and secretary for Mr Sudjai.

I make small talk in the car, as we drive out of Bangkok and along Sukhumvit Road towards Sriracha, my new home and place of work-for the moment anyway. I have to speak slowly, choosing my words carefully so as to be clear and understood. I express my nervousness at starting teaching, for the first time in my life, in about 48 hours time. I am told to not worry, it will be fine; nothing really matters that much, in the chilled- out Thai perspective on life.

I look out onto the road we are travelling along. Palm trees and billboards, many displaying pictures of the King and Queen of Thailand, adorn the sides of the congested road, amidst temples and factories. An hour and a half later, and I arrive at my temporary accommodation-a small, bare room, with a bed and a fan. I collapse on the bed, and wish I could sleep as my bloodshot eyes stare at the ceiling.

I wake at dawn, momentarily confused as to where I am. Then I remember I have arrived in Thailand, the land of smiles and Buddhist monks. I rise from the puddle of sweat I have dozed in all night, take a lukewarm shower, and then take a leisurely walk into the town. Food stalls are everywhere-rice porridge, Chinese butterfly doughnuts and sweet soy milk, fried rice and chicken. The smell of chillies and sugar wafts to my nostrils, triggering an uncertain hunger. What do I eat? How much is it? How do I ask? I attempt to buy some fried bananas, and after realising that my English is not understood, point and hold up two fingers, meaning ?I want two of these, please.? I then take the new currency out of my purse, realising that the thousand baht note looks pretty similar to the twenty baht note. The lady points at the twenty, and gives me ten baht change. I need some coffee, to wake up the confused and bewildered brain.

I walk on further, behind two monks in their orange robes. They carry a big orange bag each, and stop at every stall to receive donations of food, and say a Buddhist chant in return, while the donor kneels before them. It is 7 o?clock in the morning, and already my clothes are sticking to me as I perspire in the sticky heat. The beer of my last farewell night in Australia seeps back through my pores. I decide that today, I will go shopping, and buy some cool cotton clothing. I find a coffee shop, and sit amidst the colourfully iced little cakes, filled with air, and dried out pastries, while drinking iced coffee, made with freshly ground coffee beans from Laos, and condensed milk.

By lunchtime, I am exhausted from trailing between clothes shops. Since arriving in Thailand, my European stature has become extra large, it would seem, compared with the waif-like Thais. After being called ?big? for the umpteenth time, I retire to another coffee shop, depressed and still not having found any suitable clothes, and contemplating going on a diet. I never thought of myself as fat, being size small back in Britain. The resolve to start a diet is forgotten when I see the menu, advertising chicken and cashew nuts, and sticky rice. I relax in the same restaurant for the rest of the afternoon, attracting stares and occasional giggles from passers-by. Children shout hello, then run with laughter when I say ?hello? back. A few young men shout ?I love you?. Young ladies stare and smile.

At sunset, I walk along the beach, and watch the tomato-red sun slip behind the horizon. Birds squawk and swarm to their nests. Groups of friends sit in huddles, drinking beer Chiang and listening to the sea. I sit and breathe with the sea, and contemplate my first day in Thailand. I am conspicuous as a foreigner, adjusting to the humid heat. I feel fat, and desperately need some new clothes. The food is delicious, making it rather difficult to stick to a diet. But nothing really matters, in the relaxed and peaceful culture of Buddhism. Nothing really matters at all.