Ingrid and Marcel World Journey

Il etait une fois Marcel, qui avait depuis plusieurs annees une excroissance dans le dos. On pouvait voir a travers son t-shirt la bosse pointue de son x-ieme lypome, benin comme tous les autres.

Un jour Marcel partit pour un long voyage. A peu pres au moment ou il arrivait a Koh Samui, il remarqua que sa bosse lui faisait un peu mal. La bosse avait l’air plus plate et prenait une coloration rosee sur les bords. Il fut decide de laisser passer le temps pour voir, et Marcel continua a profiter du soleil et des vagues. Jusqu’au jour ou la bosse devint completement rouge avec un promontoire blanc et se mit a faire mal au moindre toucher. Il fut decide de se rendre a l’hopital voisin pour consulter un medecin. Diagnostic: le lypome n’en etait pas un. Il s’agissait en fait d’un kyste qui dormait sous la peau depuis des annees, et pour une raison quelconque (le sac a dos??) s’etait enflammee. On installa Marcel sur un lit et le medecin sortit son scalpel et entreprit de retirer le vilain kyste du dos de Marcel. En a peine une demi-heure l’operation etait terminee.

Mais un kyste enflamme ne se laisse pas desarmer si facilement…. Pour eviter que du pus reste sous la peau n’infecte la plaie et cause des problemes supplementaires, on devait laisser l’incision ouverte et inserer dans le trou laisse par l’absence de kyste des compresses imbibees de desinfectant. A changer quotidiennement.

Marcel a donc presentement une bouche dans le dos. Un trou beant dont l’ouverture mesure environ 4cm. Il doit se rendre chaque matin a l’hopital pour faire changer son pansement et doit revoir le medecin ce vendredi. Si tout est en ordre on laissera la plaie se refermer, possiblement avec points de suture ou autre methode de rapprochement a l’appui, sinon il faudra continuer la procedure.

Marcel et Ingrid sont donc encore a Koh Samui et devront y rester encore un bout de temps. Est-il necessaire de preciser qu’ils n’en sont point decus?

Remember I mentionned that when we were in Singapore our friends Mat & Eelyn showed us a funny shaped fruit called a durian? Well we had just seen it at stalls, and it smelled….how to describe it…. not appealing (did I mention they forbid it in some public places?). You can recognise it meters away; when we drive with the moto by a street stand that sells it we can smell it. Sometimes I find it smells like propane gas. Anyway, 2 days ago, after Valerie asked me about the fruit, I thought, we really have to try it at least once before we leave Asia. I figured we’d buy a piece of it at the store or the market and if we don’t like it we ditch it.

Well this afternoon we were reading on the long chairs when the nice lady who works there came to us with….a durian! She nicely offered us some, and I took the smallest piece I could manage and Marcel did the same. But she thought that was not too much, insisted that we take more, more, please do! Smiling and thanking, we ended up with about 2 fistfuls of fruit.

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Oh my god! The first small bites were not too bad. But then it was enough to know that we didn’t like it. The lady who nicely offered it to us being not too far away, we ate as much as we possibly could keep down. I know, in a perfect world we would have taken a bite of it and said immediately “oh thank you so much but I don’t like it”, unfortunately I don’t live in a perfect world. The smell is enough to make you not want to bite into it, the texture doesn’t help, it’s mushy we some long fibers in it, and the taste is undescribable. Sweet, sometimes you taste a bitter part, another feels tingly on your tongue like pepper, the whole thing with an aroma of onion or garlic. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Closing the gateway between nose and mouth while you chew it doesn’t help, the taste stays in your mouth and throat and stomach for hours afterwards. I’m not even sure if my stomach can digest this stuff, I mean we ate it over 3 hours ago and as I write I’m still burping the gross smell as if I still had some in my mouth.

Eelyn, please tell me you also don’t like it? Mat?

And to all others: if you ever want to insult someone in a very offensive way without his noticing it: call him a durian!

between 7h-8h30: open the eyes for the first time, look at the watch. Roll over and go back to sleep.

between 9h00-10h00: stretch in bed, get up and get dressed. Go to breakfast.

11h00: put on sunscreen, brush teeth. Go out and lounge on the long chairs. Feel the breeze and look out to the ocean in front. Read. Turn over. Go for a dip in the water. Repeat the last 4 activities.

16h00: go back to room, have a snack. Shower and read some more.

19h00: discuss where to go for dinner.

20h00: get dressed, hop on the mopede and drive out to agreed restaurant. Eat yummy thai food.

22h00: go to internet cafe and check if friends wrote on ilmundo.ch. Go back to the room, read.

00h00: turn lights off and sleep like a log. 

After one week in Bangkok I’m still not sure how I feel about this place.

It’s too much of everything: noise, people, tourists, shops, tuk-tuks, annoying sales people trying to sell you anything from tailored made clothes to extra strong cocktails, car fumes, cockroaches (OK, I only saw 4 until now but every single one is one too many, plus they’re big).

After almost 2 months on the road we realised we were slowly getting into the standard tourist mode again, i.e. trying to see all in the city you’re in and walking around the whole day sweating. He, that was not the idea here, we’re supposed to take it easy. So we relaxed the pace a bit and spent a day or two vegging around. In any case, on the day we decided to visit only one site, the Grand Palace, we arrived there and were told they were closing early on that day….because the king was visiting. Actually in like half an hour or so. So we sat down in the park across the road and waited for the king. On a street the traffic is roaring and behind us in the park the normal daily life of street vendors and people passing by is also loud and hectic. And then they closed the road, and suddenly all was quiet. There was a lady cleaning up the street quickly, like when someone rings the doorbell and you rush around picking up your socks in the house before they make it to the door, then the policeman guarding the street told the people sitting on the side of the road in the park to line up on the street, and for the next 10 minutes or so before the line up of cars arrived it was silence. In such a big and hectic and noisy city it was suddendly all quiet. All nicely lined up waiting for the king. And then the motorcycles rolled by, followed by the king’s limousine, and when he drove by all the people put their hands together and bowed their heads to him. This type of gesture is common here either to show gratitude, say welcome or goodbye or thank you, but still it was a bit surreal. So now we can say we’ve seen the king of Thailand. Wow. My first encounter with a king. Hum.