Winking tuktuk drivers and a wrestler husband
Literarily:
Don't accept rides from strange men -- and remember that all men are strange as hell. – Robin Morgan
After a drink with officemates at Nimmanheimen, we hailed a tuktuk to get me home to the other side of town, Changklan Road. Before I got in, I noticed, even in my beer glazed vision that the tuktuk driver was winking, and I turned to my friends not really sure what the winking was about. We were bargaining for a lower price and how much he will charge me. I said “he’s winking, is that a good sign?”
He was short and stocky, a bit paunchy on the face, short haired. I was interviewed on the way home, which is not really unusual for farangs in chiang mai. There were the usual questions: “where are you from”, “how long will you be staying”, and I figured by now, if you’re a woman, “are you married”. But there were also the unusual, or so I thought, question, "what does your husband do".
Then the tuktuk driver asked me how old I thought he was. After tiring of the guessing game (I got to around 2 guesses) we arrived at his admission of 46. To be polite, I offered that he doesn’t look his age at all. He then stated that at his age, he doesn’t have a wife, a family, yada yada. And he doesn’t have money, either. Then we got to the whys of that to which he explained, because whatever money he makes, he gives to other people-- family, others who need it etc. Ok, big heart, that’s good. That’s all that matters, I said.
During the chat, I noticed that he didn’t take the major roads on the way home, which washed half of the beer effect off me. I wasn’t really scared or anything but I was thinking it was a good thing our finance officer, Punika did not insist that I get my salary in cash that afternoon.
I noticed that the tuktuk was slowing down, much slower than the already slow pace we were doing during the interview. When the tuktuk stopped at an unfamiliar road, I reached in my bag for my celphone ready to ring anyone, mentally checking my bag for anything that may serve as a weapon. The winking tuktuk driver got off the tuktuk, picked something up from the road, and set whatever "it" is on the sidewalk. In my ready to bolt stance, I peered. "It" was a snail.
Oookay. Probably to show not just a big heart, but warm as well, to everything, even to snails. Respect for life. No matter how small. That’s nice. My family have this thing about not hurting any living thing, and my partner would introduce bugs and stuff to the kids. But warmth for snails, at night, from a tuktuk driver trying to make a statement of I have no idea what, I wasn’t impressed, glad nor grateful for the snail he saved from getting run over by uncaring vehicles!!! And he did that save-the-snail thing twice.
Because I was spooked, I asked him to drop me off one building away from mine in our compound, and ducked into the laundry area. I didn’t want him to see where I actually live, so I hung around, and pretended to get my laundry. I noticed that the tuktuk would not leave. I thought, hard, whether I gave him the exact payment. Why was he not leaving, I didn’t really want to know. After a few minutes, he did leave. When the tuktuk was out of sight, I sighed, and then went to my building.
Certain strategies would have to be taken to avoid that kind of incident. The next time they ask if I am married, or what my husband does, I will tell them he is a wrestler and he is waiting for me at home. “Visual artist” apparently is not threatening enough. We have to respond to what men would feel threatened about. Strength, mass, weight, maybe money. The measurable qualities. Wrestler husband might just make winking tuktuk drivers have second thoughts of stopping in the middle of the road to rescue snails, as they drive anyone home.
Don't accept rides from strange men -- and remember that all men are strange as hell. – Robin Morgan
After a drink with officemates at Nimmanheimen, we hailed a tuktuk to get me home to the other side of town, Changklan Road. Before I got in, I noticed, even in my beer glazed vision that the tuktuk driver was winking, and I turned to my friends not really sure what the winking was about. We were bargaining for a lower price and how much he will charge me. I said “he’s winking, is that a good sign?”
He was short and stocky, a bit paunchy on the face, short haired. I was interviewed on the way home, which is not really unusual for farangs in chiang mai. There were the usual questions: “where are you from”, “how long will you be staying”, and I figured by now, if you’re a woman, “are you married”. But there were also the unusual, or so I thought, question, "what does your husband do".
Then the tuktuk driver asked me how old I thought he was. After tiring of the guessing game (I got to around 2 guesses) we arrived at his admission of 46. To be polite, I offered that he doesn’t look his age at all. He then stated that at his age, he doesn’t have a wife, a family, yada yada. And he doesn’t have money, either. Then we got to the whys of that to which he explained, because whatever money he makes, he gives to other people-- family, others who need it etc. Ok, big heart, that’s good. That’s all that matters, I said.
During the chat, I noticed that he didn’t take the major roads on the way home, which washed half of the beer effect off me. I wasn’t really scared or anything but I was thinking it was a good thing our finance officer, Punika did not insist that I get my salary in cash that afternoon.
I noticed that the tuktuk was slowing down, much slower than the already slow pace we were doing during the interview. When the tuktuk stopped at an unfamiliar road, I reached in my bag for my celphone ready to ring anyone, mentally checking my bag for anything that may serve as a weapon. The winking tuktuk driver got off the tuktuk, picked something up from the road, and set whatever "it" is on the sidewalk. In my ready to bolt stance, I peered. "It" was a snail.
Oookay. Probably to show not just a big heart, but warm as well, to everything, even to snails. Respect for life. No matter how small. That’s nice. My family have this thing about not hurting any living thing, and my partner would introduce bugs and stuff to the kids. But warmth for snails, at night, from a tuktuk driver trying to make a statement of I have no idea what, I wasn’t impressed, glad nor grateful for the snail he saved from getting run over by uncaring vehicles!!! And he did that save-the-snail thing twice.
Because I was spooked, I asked him to drop me off one building away from mine in our compound, and ducked into the laundry area. I didn’t want him to see where I actually live, so I hung around, and pretended to get my laundry. I noticed that the tuktuk would not leave. I thought, hard, whether I gave him the exact payment. Why was he not leaving, I didn’t really want to know. After a few minutes, he did leave. When the tuktuk was out of sight, I sighed, and then went to my building.
Certain strategies would have to be taken to avoid that kind of incident. The next time they ask if I am married, or what my husband does, I will tell them he is a wrestler and he is waiting for me at home. “Visual artist” apparently is not threatening enough. We have to respond to what men would feel threatened about. Strength, mass, weight, maybe money. The measurable qualities. Wrestler husband might just make winking tuktuk drivers have second thoughts of stopping in the middle of the road to rescue snails, as they drive anyone home.
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