Journal of Bert van Balen: BR076

3rd of October 2013 0

Journal of Bert van Balen: BR076

bert bales photo diary Bert van Balen: BR076 Bert van Balen (67) has, after his retirement as photographer, more or less based in Thailand, especially in Chiang Mai. He lives in a rented house for six years with a Thai woman who bore him two children as a relic from a previous marriage. The reason for his stay in Thailand can be found in his book â € ~ back Hurray, I Kankera € ™.

White arrival and departure card was viewed well by the young couple sitting next to me where they turned around a few times and shoulders went up. I looked to the corner of my eye and made me immediately all sure that they would leave for what it is and so one of those tourists were any concerns for delays in customs clearance at Survanabhumi.

the card

I intervened. â € ~ That card you have to fill though. They are quite whiners that customs at the airport, â € ™ I tried to sound popular young. The young man looked at me and in his eyes I saw that he internal assessment of me as an old pervert who was only on his way to Thailand over there quite a turn. Flowers outside the Had by the media Bea ¯ nvloedde brain nice to already suffer prejudice.


He mumbled something that he would do it later and turned to his young wife or girlfriend and called her treasure while he asked if she was able to give, as it turned out, dab it off. his forehead him a tissue Treasure he said. Oh yes, do you remember when you’re young. Carefully I peered past him how his wife or girlfriend looked and knew for sure that she was enjoying. This nickname but very Soon it was over.

Oh, what I’d like to Chiang Mai said

Eleven hour flight lasts longer feel anything when you’re as dumb as I, by on the screen for you constantly look to have traveled and what should be. still made Sleeping is for me an impossibility in ZOA € ™ s sardine. I need can lie. Across if you mind. I prefer to take a seat on the aisle. Then I get up when I feel and walk past all those gesukkelde asleep fellow passengers, their mouths wide open, slumped against the neighbor, unaware how far we still have and what we have already come.

I know at ZOA € ™ s time just because I like it to. And this knowledge, I would like to make ZOA € ™ s gesukkelde asleep passenger, but presumably something not rated know what the flight attendants because they also make one up when they come along with the sandwiches with a glass prick. Best known The flight attendants keep themselves a nice part of the journey in the pantry where the sandwiches and the drinks come. Usually I’m there too but a little mooch and an extra sandwich and a glass of wine.

next to me had placed a wardrobe of a man who for the same reason the walk had made. He coughed. And not ZOA € ™ s little. â € ~ You have a cold? â € ™ I asked compassionate. Coughing he agreed. â € ~ Itâ € ™ s not so far anymoreâ € ™, I reassured him. with my knowledge of the traveled route â € ~ Only six hoursâ € ™. He nodded as if he knew. Presumably he kept it the same hobby after.
â € ~ Where you come from, â € ™ I asked to bring.
tijddodend a conversation goingBelgium â € ~ â € ™ he.
answeredâ € ~ Ah, you speak so Nederlands.â € ™ Well no, because he was a Czech and Belgian spoke next two French words, only its own national language and some English. Where â € ~ â € ™ I wanted to know because I love Belgium «.
Brussels â € ~ â € ™ he.
answeredâ € ~ Ah, Brussels. Beautiful city. I like it very much.â € ™
â € ~ And you, â € ™ he said without much enthusiasm to me.
Oh what I had said like Chiang Mai. There are now added that I had been. Only for a short break in Holland That is my actual hometown Thailand. I am admittedly not born and bred, but most of my life there have been spent. Said I fluently speak the language, the culture known as my pocket, knew every corner of the country.

But not really know those paltry seven years that I intermittently stay in Thailand, we do not learn to speak to me, the Thai language and culture certainly does not show. every corner I felt banh by to say that I came from Holland. Although on the way home, but still, not really.
â € ~ I know what you feel, â € ™ said the wardrobe. â € ~ I have the same. Czech and Belgium. Whatâ € ™ s home? Â € ™

In Thailand you will find that we ever have manners also known

Well what is home. The country in which you grew up, or the country in which you feel most in place. The country in which I grew up, I had just left without much regret. Not in terms of the people there. Certainly not. But four months devoid of a regulation, which the laws are applied in a creative way you can go missing.

in Holland hum from his mustache decorated with diagonal stripes Mercedes gets to you once its nice to read about the consequences of speeding, the lesson you immensely long for the country where a small five euro ZOA € ™ s  offense simple enough to give you further. free job It’s just a simple example where there are many more to mention, except the freedom of expression. In the Netherlands, it seems more likely that this achievement has led to the downfall of the civilized manners.

In Thailand you will find that we ever have manners also known as somewhere in the fifties. We asked the flight attendant for a glass of wine. She smiled at us. Donated two plastic cups for us. Be on the scale with sandwiches. We could get what we wanted. â € ~ They are so nice, people from Asia, â € ™ said we sounded and the two plastic cups together.

over nine hundred kilometers per hour. That should be faster

The young couple I saw on my return to cleave together in deep sleep. According to the route information on the screen we approached India. Lahore. The now three cups red wine still wanted to do their jobs and I stayed awake to follow the chosen route. More than nine hundred miles an hour. That should be faster. Painfully slow speed prong plane  symbol a millimeter further.

The young man snorted. Soft and regular. His head was on the shoulder of his wife or girlfriend. She had her head that made of him. Their two krullige hair was intertwined. He had a beard shadow. Black. They a ring through her nose. Her hair was blond. Perhaps they were for the first time together on vacation. Maybe it was their honeymoon.

Where would they go go in Thailand. Koh Samui, Phuket, Hua Hin? No, I estimated them in Chiang Mai. Hiking in the mountains. River rafting in Mae Teng. Not to an elephant show because that’s pathetic. Last, they had also voted for the party for the animals. Yes, of course, because they are vegetarian. I had already seen the special menu that they got potdomme half an hour earlier than the rest of the people sitting on board.

I tried something different on the screen for me. A movie. Many fights. Cowboys loggerheads shots together or space ships fought each other in the universe. American spoken Chinese subtitles. A game over. Chess. But after three parties lost I gave up and switched back to the curious route information. The Himalayan our left. Right New Delhi. If breakfast is we are almost there.

started whining a child. Fixed Dutch with his freedom of expression. His view was of the same caliber as mine, why is it taking so long. Only I do not whined. I quite liked. Front, with the pilot. Whining about the throttle not completely open. ZOA € ™ s modern device could easily outpace that lousy nine hundred kilometers per hour. That vegetarian couple next to me started me to hang the throat because she snored now both. And I stared at the route information. The jaws tightly together.

The breakfast came to

I smoke, I think first. The only one who was fully conscious. The breakfast came to. Coffee. Eggs with bacon. A sandwich. Glass of orange dâ € ™ orange. It was an omelet stuffed with vegetables insignificant that I had after two mouthfuls cautious enough. Coffee without coffee was put. A sandwich that looked more like chewing gum.

Oh dear Lord, do not let me down and having to travel to the Netherlands. twice a year And we landed safely Survanabhumi where the couple next to me first wanted to be. In the aisle I sat there with my legs sprawled across the two seats vacant.

 © Bert van Balen

previous Journal Bert van Balen â € ~ What you see is not what you geta € ™ appeared on September 6.

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