Omelette-on-rice-with-green-curry-combo 

I take my lunch in the food court of an outdated mall. They only have one track that loops “The Greatest Love of All”—nonstop—muzak-style. The food court serves mainly the employees of the mall, each represented by their respective color coordinated polo shirts; other local Thais, students, and on the weekends—families. There are a smattering of foreigners from the Thai language school in the mall. It appears all of the instructors are young, Thai females. They scoot tables together while they eat their omelette-on-rice-with-soup-combo. A white male sits with them—the boyfriend of one of the instructors. I wonder if he was/is a student.

Crêpe lady

In addition to the stir-fries, noodles, and Thai salads on offer, there is a Japanese crêpe stand. A row of jars filled with fluorescent fillings line the front counter. A refrigerated chest contains sliced hotdogs, imitation crab, and crêpe batter. Both children and adults queue for crêpes. I’ve seen Korean tourists order, and one time a Chinese tourist with bad eye-sight who live-blogged herself eating a crêpe. She squinted at the sign which she couldn’t see, and returned wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses (presumably prescription)—but to no avail. Guess what? The menu was written in Thai. So she—clad in straw hat, white lace blouse, blue bra (the blouse was all lace), multi-colored-zebra-striped pants, white platform sandals, and as mentioned earlier—mirrored aviator sunglasses—proceeded to point to various fluorescent jars, culminating by pointing to some bananas.

She live-blogged the plump lady cooking her crêpes. The Crêpe lady—by the way—continuously cleaned her utensils like a cat during the entire process. She began by splashing the griddles with some grease. Then she ladled a scoop of batter, wiping the plastic container’s rim with her finger and licking it. She smoothed out the batter with a spatula. She selected a squeeze-bottle of sweetened condensed milk and squirted it on top of the crêpe. Then she wiped the tip of the bottle and licked her finger. Time to slice some bananas, and arrange them prettily in a circle. Wiped knife, licked finger. Reached for a jar of chocolate sauce and smeared a thin layer with the spatula. Wiped spatula, licked finger. Then she tri-folded the crêpe into a paper envelope, and voila! Handed over the crêpe and licked her finger.

Food court scene.

Somtum lady and Spidy boy

The other day, the son of the Somtum lady (Thai salad) tagged along with her owing to a school holiday in honor of the King’s birthday. He looked to be around eight years old, wearing a Spiderman shirt. His mother’s stand was right next to the crêpe stand. When I saw him, he was mixing crêpe batter with a giant wire whisk. As it was slow for the Crêpe lady, she was assisting the Somtum lady by prepping an unripe fruit for slicing. This entailed repeatedly picking up the large, softball sized fruit and smashing it onto the table. Such a loud noise—what fun! Spidy boy wanted to do that instead, and abandoned his whisking duties to smash fruit. However, the fruit was already well-smashed, and the customer did not like the sight of her lunch being mangled by the boy, but the boy wouldn’t stop. 

Crêpe lady had a brilliant idea and called Spidy boy to a table to sit with her. Guess what? Make-over Time! She produced a large zip lock bag filled with cosmetics, and proceeded to give him a facial. Spidy boy let himself be subjected to moisturizing, but when Crêpe lady smeared Tanaka (clay powder popular in Myanmar) in swirls on his cheeks, he bolted out of his chair and ran around the cafeteria, apparently emboldened with new powers.

...they can’t take away my dignity…

A shiny red car with a broken steering wheel in the play-area in the food court.

Gangnam-Greatest Love mash-up

A teenage male with Down’s Syndrome roams around the mall. I’ve seen him playing with kids on the 2nd floor, walk around with a cutting board under his arm, and interrogate foreign students who were waiting for their Thai class to begin. He approached them—I presume speaking in Thai—while shaking his finger at them. He went down the row this way, shaking his finger and looking very much like a disappointed teacher. I don’t know if he comes to the mall by himself or with friends and family, but one day he was seated alone, slumped on a bench. A mall employee bent down and spoke softly to him, perhaps trying to find out if he was feeling ok.

Another day, he joined a group of Thai’s at their table—I wasn’t sure if he was connected to them. Most ignored him; some were eating their meal. He stood while they sat. He spoke while they stared at their phones. Then one lady gave him a 20 baht note and made the motion of hammering down. He brightened and wai’d (Thai form of putting hands in prayer to greet or say thank you) and hurried to the children’s area, which is also in the food court but cordoned off with a low wall.

He had such a broad smile as he crossed the food court. He strode right up to the whack-a-mole game. The other children—around three-to-five years old—played on toy cars that go nowhere; no track, no horn, no working steering wheel. Like the mall itself, the games area had a brief shine in 1970 and was now a relic of no historical significance.

It turned out the whack-a-mole game comes with its own soundtrack—”Gangnam Style”. When the song suddenly came blaring out, it temporarily transformed the morose food court into a morose night club. The crowd was not going wild, swaying to the beat or slamming down expensive booze. They were topping their soups with crispy fried pork skin and sipping bubble tea.

When the teen’s baht ran out, he rejoined the Thai group, where they were all still staring at their phones. Then a foreign man walked up to him and gave him a 20 baht note to continue playing. Again, he brightened and wai’d, and with a joyous smile, went right back to the game he just finished playing. More moles to whack. More Gangnam to Style. More clubbing in the food court eating Thai green curry with the barely audible…

Let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be,

Everyone’s searching for a hero…

Learning to love yourself,

It is the greatest love of all.