After an attempt to visit the Old Town community museum, thwarted because it is closed up and looks deserted (we will ask B when we next see her), we spend another very quiet day. It's nice but I am surprised by how quickly I become restless. I want to get out a bit. I want to see and do.
We plan a long walk for tomorrow, all the way down the coast to an area populated by 'Sea Gypsies'. It's a walk that most people would drive and, in the heat, I am hoping it will satisfy my itch for activity.
In the meantime there is just one thing missing - company. M and I can spend a lot of time in each other's company without getting bored - but so far we have so had the privilege of having another friend, at least one, in each country. These is rather intensified by an email from O, our Vietnamese host, another from N, our Cambodian friend and a Facebook message from A, who is a now lifelong friend who had the flat next door to us in Cambodia.
O tells us that she is drinking English style tea and thinking of us and that the cat is quite happy, and meowing a lot.
N tells us she was grateful to meet us and will contact us if she needs help writing s proposal for her next 'buildings made of rubbish' project.
A tells us she is looking at our now empty flat and thinking of us and that the cat has been spayed, but was very brave and has had to be locked in the bathroom so she doesn't jump around and tear her stitches.
We miss O and A and their respective cats. We miss N and her local knowledge and readiness to party.
"Where is our friend?" I ask M, plaintively, "and our cat?"
M points out that we do have a lizard, in leiu of a cat. This is true. We have named him Lazarus and he likes to wander about on our worktops eating ants and stray pieces of galangal or garlic. If we keep still, he gets quite close. We think he likes us.
But what I really want to do is to get to know the locals. The charm of a quiet little place like Old Town is with its people.
"How is the Christmas party planning?" asks A, referring to our last conversation in which we hatched a plan to throw a Thai/English hybrid Christmas party.
Not so fast, I tell her. We don't have any guests.
I have always done this. When I move house in the UK, which I have done several times, I always expect to have a group of bosom friends there within minutes. When it takes a bit longer I grow despondent. I decide the place is unfriendly. I sulk a little. Then the making friends happens naturally and I don't even think about it. The next thing I know I have a little group. Of bosom friends. It always happens. But I forget about the timescale.
Our current plan for speedy acquisition of Thai friends involves saying Sawadika (hello) to everyone we pass. This is a rather limiting approach as we know no further Thai as yet so even if somebody looked to be minded to continue the discussion, we wouldn't have a clue what they were saying. We ate working in our Thai.
The other branch of this plan involves spending some time with B, who lives here, so must know people. Also B herself is good fun so even if we find making local friends impossible, we can have a great time. We ask B over for drinks tomorrow night, something she counters with an invitation for us to go to hers the night after that. She has a new house and she's proud of it.
Actually, as it happens, we go out unexpectedly for dinner because our gas runs out at s critical moment whilst cooking dinner. I console the despondent chef, we make arrangements for more gas to be delivered the next day, with help from B and from S, the owner, and I pay for dinner.
On the way out of the restaurant, a lady stops us.
"Where do you stay?" she asks, "I have seen you walking up and down".
We take this as a sign that we are distinctive rather than that we have wandering aimlessly about a lot (which we have) and we have a short conversation in hesitant English. Hers is rather better than ours.
We take this as an encouraging sign. Maybe if people are curious it will lead them to chat to us.
Maybe.
At least in the meantime the Myna birds next door are talking to us. They have a much better Thai vocabulary than we do.
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