hunger

I woke up hungry, and there was no good food for me at brekfast at my hotel. Also, no cat, but a mosquito who bit my ankle nonetheless. Mosquitoes are always there, ready to suck below my knee line and occasionally above. I wonder how these creatures choose the spots — it’s always the same areas on my body, in the same places. At TCDC, they bite inside my knee before it’s noon. The digital nomads and students come in the afternoon, so my knees are no longer attractive. And it’s my ankle for breakfast at the Holiday Inn. I wonder what happened to that stray.

I walk out late this morning, wanting to try the burger joint. It’s a caricature American, awfully so. I don’t believe those exist in the U.S. anymore, but Bangkok is where you find all sorts of clichés. A skinny Thai boy is wiping the stairs in front of the entrance. He is doing that with the mop head in his bare hands, no broom. He is in a hurry, perhaps he was late to his shift. I enter, and he rushes past me. I hear the water running in the sink for a solid three seconds in the back. He is at the counter, pointing at the menu. I ask if he is the one who will be making my meal. He doesn’t understand my question but replies ‘yes’ just in case. It’s the Bangkok Thai vernacular - you simply roll with the yes no matter how little you understand. I tell him that I will come later and leave.

I walk down the street to the fancy Singaporean spot with the sourdough toasts and savory snacks. It’s busy, as the price tag suggests. I always wonder about those latecomers, those who discovered Thailand not from the books or even the travel blogs, but Instagram reels. It’s avocado bread for $12, U.S. I climb up the ladder. It’s a rustic decor, not even sure that it is a design - quite possibly they just got the place exactly like that. Silom offers many lofts at a bargain rate, which doesn’t explain the Manhattan price for the toast. But the chatter at the table next to me does. I don’t recognise the language, perhaps Malay. They mix in some English words too, I’ve been spoted, so it’s likely for my entertainment, I locate the sirloin steak sourdough and am ready to order.

The three waiters move around the space chaotically, the owner is hardly a good choreographer. One young Thai lady consults the items on the shelf making an inventory, she is always with her back to me. The young boy is cleaning the vacant tables, and another waiter moves up and down the ladder, delivering the plates to other guests. Fifteen minutes after, nothing happens at my table, but my ears melting down over its surface from the “true pink” chatter. The party of three, four purses, five iPhones, and the XS-20 with a kit lens. I look at the iPhone sitting right next to me at the edge of their table. It looks like the largest “Pro” model, but it’s not the size that makes me leave, but the choice of a phone case - a pink plastic bumper with a lip balm holder attached to the back of it. I stand up and slowly walk down the ladder. One of the Thai boys looks at me, hesitating to ask if something was wrong. Perhaps he will never understand.

It’s better to be hungry than sick, it’s better to be hungry than to eat with people you can’t possibly enjoy sharing a room the world with.