The little cafe had become a favourite haunt. Secluded, rustic, with simple decorative lanterns hanging about the place. Relatively undiscovered by tourists. Serene… for the moment. A votive lit the page she was writing on as she sipped another drink. The tide was out in the evening this week. With such a shallow beach, she would need to walk ten minutes out to reach the water. She wondered whether the water was out far enough to allow her to walk around the point and why she hadn’t explored it previously.
A guy behind the bar was paying a disproportionate amount of attention to her. She wasn’t concerned. Her presence often enticed similar curiosity. While lone western men were often seen, the presence of a solitary foreign woman was still few and far between. His haircut suggested an overtly non-conformist attitude which seemed unusually out of context. Such brash individuality was rarely displayed so explicitly outside of Bangkok these days. His presence did connote a rebellious individuality beyond what a Thai proprietor would normally be comfortable hiring. Maybe he was the owner.
He tried to engage her in conversation. His intense curiosity clearly displayed in his facial expression. It seemed he had developed grandiose illusions about her… a writer, independent, opinionated and hardened from living in this part of the world. Dreading the usual conversation she was so tired of re-living, she made up a bland task and told him she worked in marketing… a comment sure to extinguish further interest.
YOU ARE READING
A series of happenings, observations and experiences from teaching in Ban Pong, Ratchaburi... a small town situated between Bangkok and Kanchanaburi in western Thailand.