December 25 2009
_____
The Pianobabbler is touring Asia for 6 weeks with vocalist Irene Atman, managed by The East West Entertainment Groupt. This is an ongoing record of his adventures.
***
PATTAYA, BANGKOK and SAMUI, THAILAND (Days 6-10 of the tour)
***
The Pianobabbler finds Thai names unusual.
Irene is signed to Hitman Records, a Thai jazz label. Hitman is working hard to promote her. It has assigned an assistant to us, a 22 year old recent business grad named Byu.
Byu. Just Byu.
I have also met PeeKay. BoBo. Kong. Eh.
Yesterday I signed a CD for PeePee.
Pianobabbler must sound like an awfully strange name to the Thai.
***
Mah. Mah. Mah. Mah. Mah.
Dog. Horse. Mom. Grandmother. Come here.
After our gig Saturday night, we're riding in the van. I ask Byu about the Thai language. The Pianobabbler has a linguistics degree, after all.
Like Chinese, Thai relies on tone differences. One sound may differ in meaning, depending on the tone.
Mah, for example. Byu says it 5 ways: Mah. Mah. Mah. Mah. And: mah.
Right. Byu insists on the differences between the mahs. They all sound the same to me. Odd. A musician ought to distinguish the tones easily.
No. One mah sounds like another, another, another, and another, and another.
So, the Pianobabbler will be taking no stabs at Thai any time soon. He could end up calling a grandmother ("mah") a horse ("mah").
At dinner tonight, we are served by a pleasant young Thai. Her name is Wah.
Bah.
***
Borscht in Thailand.
Thailand and Russia have a history.
In the 19th century, by allying with Czarist Russia, Thailand (then Siam) kept colonizing powers out. Alone among its southeast Asian neighbours, Thailand suffered no conquering or subjugation. It never became a colony.
Somehow issuing from that legacy, a century and a half later, ten thousand Russians now live in Pattaya. Many more visit. Scores of Russian restaurants.Two Russian language television stations. Newspapers. Clubs. Retailers.
This unexpected graft of cultures, the muscular Russian, winter, on the supple Thai, summer, clashes, although not disagreeably.
Vodka on the beach.
***
We move around Pattaya in a van Irene's record label has provided. The driver lives in Pattaya. We don't know his name. Call him Driver. I haven't heard Driver speak once.
Sitting in the whizzbang of Driver's driving, the Pianobabbler knows what it's like to live inside a hockey puck in play on the ice.
Dip, squeeze, yank, bump, zip, stop, go, bump, wind, jerk, squeeze, lurch, dip, hurtle, stop, go, stop, go, bump, bump, go. Driver at work.
We rocket and ricochet across the road, through traffic, between cars, over things. Driver remains, as always, passive, calm and silent.
I believe Driver is the norm in Thailand. Order in chaos, chaos in order. Danger but no accidents. Assertive driving but no road rage.
The Pianobabbler notices that, in Thailand, the concept of the lane lacks definition. To the left, to the right of the white line, or straddling it, whichever- that is your lane.
***
Irene enjoyed great success at her concert the other night. She sang wonderfully. She entertained the audience.
Aksara Theatre, Bangkok. 500 people. Sold out. Lots of media. Fans clamouring for post-show pictures. A half page in Hello! magazine.
Irene and her manager Caroline Chia have worked tirelessly to make the tour a triumph.
Tonight, they have assured that result.
Well done.
***
We stay in Bangkok for two days only, performing each day. No time to visit the city. It lingers only as mental snapshots our eyes take in through the windows of our transport to and from the airport.
We are leaving for Samui Island, or Koh Samui. Ever hear of it?
The Pianobabbler, always one for hyperbole, can find none to match the jawdrop beauty of Koh Samui.
An island off the east coast of Thailand, Samui (Koh means island) weaves mountain, jungle, sea and sand into an Edenic blanket of repose.
The environment has a nurturing quality to it. Maternal. Mother Nature. Even for non-sun idolators like me.
Koh Samui inspires comfort, despite its commercialism. Despite the abundant tourist presence.
An economy desperate to emerge from poverty.
I meet John, the hotel manager. He tells me he used to be a sniper in the British Marines. And a chef at Chez Maxime in Paris.
***
The Pianobabbler has babbled.
blog comments powered by Disqus
A brilliant adventure. On his latest recording, My Mother's Father's Song, Ron Davis embraces both his family's rich cultural heritage, and boldly re-engages with the jazz standard.
- click here for details
Please subscribe to Ron's monthly email with updates, announcements and photos. You'll get a free MP3 or PDF of Ron's music when you sign up.
- click here to join
