It’s hard to pass up a two-hour Thai Herbal Massage when it’s 490 Thai Baht (USD $15.63) because it would cost ten times that amount in San Francisco, and because I’m a sucker for pain. This place we went to this evening has private rooms as opposed to just a row of massage chairs along the wall in an open store; although I’ve heard those places give great massages too. When we made the appointment, I asked if they would really pick us up as mentioned on the website. The lady said we should take a tuk tuk (taxi) and she would reimburse us. We ended up getting a Grab (similar to Lyft or Uber) but declined her offer for reimbursement.

Thai, Mandarin, and English

My therapist chatted almost non-stop with Kenric’s in Thai, asked me encroaching questions in Mandarin, and spoke to Kenric in limited English. The massage was good, and she was very willing to focus on my forearms and hands as requested. After the massage, the two therapists were chatting with the owner in Thai while Kenric and I sipped ginger tea. Suddenly the owner looked at me pitifully and said, “Ohhhh….you no baby, you 43.” I did not get back at the therapist by telling the owner that she asked me earlier how much we paid for the massages. I quickly finished my tea and went out to the waiting tuk tuk. The owner insisted on paying.

Malay

The tuk tuk dropped us off in the Lee Garden Plaza area where we had dinner yesterday. We went back to the stall that serves cockles and huge prawns. There was a table of Malay ladies. I asked them if the prawns were delicious. Two of them said “Sedap!” immediately. I asked about the cockles and one said she wanted another order.

I ordered in Malay and the lady was clearly Muslim. With so many here speaking Chinese dialects and Malay, I had to remind myself I’m no longer in Malaysia. The lady asked what we wanted to drink. Oftentimes, at places like this, the beverage business would be run by a different owner. Not knowing the religion of the beverage stall owner, I asked, “Ada alkohol tak?” She graciously replied, “No, this is a Muslim stall.” “Sorry, sorry, coconut then.” The blanched cockles were a little overcooked for me, but they were still tasty. Kenric loved the big prawn, I couldn’t tell because he gave me only a very small bite. Actually, I was concentrating on the delicious chicken wings.

When we were paying, I apologized again for asking if there was alcohol. I said I thought she was just going to help us order the drinks from another stall, and I was simply trying to find out if that stall has alcohol. She smiled and said it’s fine. Hearing an ethnic Chinese speak in Malay, her husband asked where I’m from. “Malaysia.” He looked over at Kenric and seemed more confused. I almost told him that hearing the Malay language in Thailand was just as confusing to me! I guess that’s what artificial borders can make us do; “otherize” those on the other side.

Earlier …