Back at my favorite (so far) internet perch in Chiang Mai, cup of strong coffee in front of me, traffic whizzing by, smell of exhaust, and a 2 hour internet session for under a buck. It's a locals joint, so the price is about a third of what the farang-visited places charge. Not that I need to scrimp on this kind of stuff, but hey, I'm a NY Jew at heart, so why pay when you don't have to?
Yesterday was a low point, though it evolved into something different, as these things tend to do, if you give them enough air. I was really bumming out about stuff, feeling I had fouled the nest at home, alienated even more folks (one of my skills, apparently), and was starting to experience the feeling of 'fuck it', maybe it's time for me to find a new place to live. (that feeling hasn't gone away completely BTW). I've got my eyes and ears open. I think this is some kind of a scouting trip.
So there I was wandering around town, feeling sorry for myself and I just kept walking. I usually don't go too 'Forest Gump', but on this day I just kept going, figuring I'd find my way back eventually. Chiang Mai is a big city, and without a map, or even with one, it's easy to get lost. Before too long, I realized that I was well out of the white people zone, and only had the vaguest idea about which way was the way back.
Not that it was intimidating, this place is pretty chill. It wasn't like the time when I was visiting my parents in Coconut Grove and I took a walk and found myself in serious Soul Town, with liquor stores, gun shops and a bunch of South Florida Bruthas hanging out on the corner. I'm thinking, 'oh shit' which way do I go, when a Jamaican dude stops his car, rolls down his window and says, 'Hey Mon, what you doin' here, it not safe for you'. I said, 'I know.... which way to the white people? And he pointed me in the right direction... Yeah, it wasn't like that...
I had a little flash of nervousness, but nothing serious, and as I continued, I thought I heard some live music coming out of a little ramshackle bar on the corner. I poked my head inside and there was a long haired twenty something Thai strumming a guitar and singing into a lousy PA. But he was a good player and singer, and he was joined by another guy singing into a microphone that was perched on one of the more intriguing mic stands I've ever seen. The base was a coffee can filled with cement which supported a six foot piece of 2x2 lumber. someone had drilled an inch thick hole in the 2x2 and that's where the mic rested. I wish I knew how to say, 'Dude, that is one ghetto mic stand' in Thai, but I guess that will have to wait.
The owner of the place comes out to invite me in, so in I went, ordered a beer and sat down to listen. There was a tiny crowd in there, just a few tables worth, so the musicians were well aware that an interloper was in their midst. I'm guessing that there have been very few farangs hanging out there drinking over the years. But they were really cool, and I had the awesome experience of feeling my blues start to lift by listening to song after song after song, in which I understood not a single word. The music was kinda folkie, simple chords, accessible melodies, with the added attraction of some of the high pitched, haunting sounds that touch the heart.
I was applauding after each song, which is customary here, they're quite polite about the music, and somehow or other, he asks if I play guitar. Uh, yeah, I do, so he gives me his guitar and I head to the microphone. I played a song or two and they were way into it, clapping along and excited. I made a gesture asking if there were any songs they wanted to hear, and one said 'Handy Man'. So I did it. 'I fix broken hearts, I'm your handy man'. Another guy said, 'Stay', so we did that one too. Stay just a little bit longer, please please please please please, won't you say that you will, Say You Will. They didn't speak hardly a word of English, but would join in on the parts they 'knew' and it was a delight. Kind of reminded me of one time in Salamanca, Spain at a discoteca, when Springstein's 'Hungry Heart' was real popular. Every time the chorus came around, the whole place would yell,
Ebby body got a humby hot, Ebby body got a humby hot. Hey, it ain't about diction, it's about vibe, and the vibe was on.
After a few hours, I said farewell and found my way back to my part of town. Kinda wished I had taken a piss before leaving the bar, because, fuckin A, I was really in need of relief by the time I got back to my place. Note to self... if there's a convenient piss to be had, go for it. (is this too much information?) Yeah, I thought so.
I had walked a bunch of miles by that point, so I took a shower and then headed over to the bar where I had made a real nice connection before the trek. This 50 year old Brit named Al was playing that night, and we had totally grooved musically, so when he saw me, he was really glad, and invited me up to sit in. Actually he invited me up to take over, as he was two hours into his gig, and his voice was going. This guy is really really cool, a sensitive musician, good on bass, percussion and guitar and we have an effortless way of fitting in with one another. So I grabbed the guitar, he played bass or percussion and we did stuff like 'I Get Around' (Beach Boys) 'You Don't Know Me' (Ray charles made it famous), 'Mother and Child Reunion', Early Morning Rain etc for a bunch of highly appreciative (read inebriated)English speakers. Apparently my skills would be in high demand here, as I know a bunch of tunes that people seem to enjoy.
The bar owner is a Thai woman named Taow (think of the sound a cat makes) and her Alaskan born husband named Jeff. He's a pony-tail sporting, very nice dude, good handshake, not a derelict, and they both make me feel very welcome and wanted. Granted, that's their job, but I get a very solid vibe from them both, and yeah, that's the place where I'll want to hang out. After our set, Jeff invited me to tonight's farewell party for some couple who is leaving town, and they'll want us to play and entertain. having a strong musician, good guy to jam with is pretty close to heaven. Guess i had to come to Thailand to find a bass player to work with. who knew?
Long story short, I got saved yet again by music. I had been feeling extremely low, and the combination of walking and sharing music lifted my spirits and righted the ship. Insert gratitude here.... Off to find some breakfast, and practice the guitar... Out!
No comments:
Post a Comment