by Ben Ezzell
“One of Tahm’s?” Nolan guessed.
“Kahp! He does have talent.”
9:40 AM
“Had to be LSD,” Bob insisted angrily, then added more gently. “Pretty good too. But, hell, any one of us could have done it. We were all in the kitchen – that was the idea, we’re here to learn about Thai foods. And how to cook them.”
“Not drug,” Inspector Taskin corrected. “Lab say mushroom – het mao – drunken mushroom in soup. You see who make soup, mai krahp?”
“Of course I did. Nolan was the chef but Rosalyn was helping with the soup. And sure there were mushrooms – bought them at the market yesterday. The little cone-shaped ones with the dark caps they call straw mushrooms. Nothing unusual about them, eaten them a lot. In Chinese mostly. You aren’t telling me those are hallucinogenic, are you?”
“Hal-luc-cin-no-genic, krahp?” the Inspector pronounced carefully. “Make drunk? Act crazy?”
“Yeah, hallucinogenic.”
“You say het fang – straw mushroom – but het fang not look like het mao. Het mao not sell in market either. Het mao mai dee mak, krahp. Not sell, not law against but not sell.” Inspector Taskin paused, then, “No, I not think Kun Nolan make mistake. Hospital say het mao chop, grind very fine like pepper flake, then add to soup. Say not take much, two, three het mao enough. But you not see other mushroom, mai krahp?”
“No other mushrooms,” Bob insisted harshly. “Lemon grass, shrimp, galangal, chilies, limes … No, I didn’t see anyone adding anything unusual. Why would anyone? We’re adults, not a bunch of silly kids.”
“Someone do this,” the Inspector reminded him.
9:55 AM
“Dad‘s being pretty nice about it,” Greg reported, hanging up the phone. “Even if it is the middle of the night back home. Anyway, he said he’d arrange a wire transfer in the morning. And he’ll take care of the credit cards and get me a new one by express delivery.”
“You told him to use DHL?”
“Yeah. He said he would. So I guess I’d better see about the passport next. When everyone’s ready, anyway. And thanks – I’ll pay you back as soon as the money shows up.”
“West Coast, I assume?” Nolan considered. “That means the earliest your father could reach a bank would be about eleven this evening. For East Coast banks,” he turned to Bob and Rosalyn, “it’s earlier, say around seven. Not much point in trying any of them before then.”
“At least the credit card companies are open twenty-four hours,” Rosalyn commented. “And would you believe it? They said they could have a new card here by four? This afternoon? From the Bangkok center? I thought it would take at least a day or two. But they say we have to be here to sign for them, of course.”
“When the Thais call it Express Mail, they mean express,” Terry agreed. “Naturally, it helps that there’s a flight from Bangkok to Chiang Mai every hour but if they say it will be here by four, it will be delivered by four. In the mean time, if you and Bob are ready, I can take you – and Greg – over to the American Consulate so you can get started on new passports. And,” he added, “I’ll make sure you’re back here in good time.”
Siam Commercial Bank, 10:14 AM
“You not wish large bills, Kun Guise?” the teller at Siam Commercial asked courteously. “Is much cash to carry.”
“Just hundreds, thanks,” Nolan confirmed. Seven thousand baht in hundreds was a sizeable stack but, he reminded himself, a thousand baht was only forty dollars – less than $300 total. Enough to set up Greg, Bob and Rosalyn with some cash. And hundreds were easy to spend – it was enough.
Things like new cameras could wait until the credit cards arrived. Or, if anyone needed, he or Terry could cover their checks.
10:20 AM
Outside the bank, three tuk-tuks were parked; their drivers talking quietly in the shade of a tree. As Nolan stepped out and looked around, one of the drivers broke away from the conversation to approach him.
“Baan Orchid bohn Wat Faham, mai kahp?” Nolan nodded politely to the driver. “Sow baht, mai kahp?” – twenty baht, yes?
Smiling, the driver reflexively held up four fingers, meaning forty baht.
“See sip baht?” Nolan’s voice was a shade louder than before but pitched with a distinct note of amusement. “Very, very expensive. I pay you fifteen baht, mai kahp?”
“Mai, sow baht, kahp!” the driver suddenly realized his mistake – No, twenty baht!
“Farahng mai nahk tawng teeoh, kahp,” one of the other drivers laughed – Foreigner not tourist.
“Sow baht very good price today, kahp,” the remaining driver offered.
“Sow baht, kahp!” Nolan smiled, agreeing in the northern dialect. “Bpy gahn tuh, kahp.” – Let’s go.
Wat Faham Road, approaching Baan Orchid, 10:30 AM
“You live Chiang Mai, mai kahp?”
“Sometimes here,” Nolan agreed from the back seat of the tuk-tuk. “Sometimes Canada. Like Thailand, nice people, good food, khap.”
“You fool me,” the driver suggested. “No have accent. Speak Thai very good. Is good joke, mai kahp?”
“Khob khun kahp.” – Thank you
“You need driver?” the tuk-tuk operator suggested. “You call – I have cellular – make good price, mai kahp?” He offered a card, reaching over his shoulder.
“Thank you, I might.” Nolan accepted the card. “You own tuk-tuk? Or rent?” The card read: ‘Kowit Singhaseni – Tour Guide’ – with the latter repeated in German and in Japanese kanji script.
“Own half tuk-tuk,” the driver announced proudly. “Brother own other half. You call – if I not answer, brother answer, kahp. Brother name Pronkiat, kahp.”
“Nolan. Nolan Guise. Yeah, I might do that. Tell me, which half of tuk-tuk is yours?” By shifting an accent, the question had become a pun involving a rather fragrant fruit.
“Clean half,” the driver laughed. “I clean tuk-tuk, brother one who smell, kahp.”
DragonTree.com Contents
Chapter Fourteen:
Chapter Fourteen:
Near American Consulate, Chiang Mai, Wednesday, February 7th, 11:10 AM
After dropping Terry and three of the guests at the American Consulate, Tahm had several errands.
First was to take clothes to laundry. Normally, Tahm would do laundry in morning, then Kun Mam would iron clothes. But this, Kun Terry say, was too much – kamoy dirty too many clothes, have laundry clean, not Tahm.
Besides Kun Terry have other errand for Tahm … and Tahm have own errand if time.
Laundry say ‘mai pen rhy’ – not problem – Tahm come back at six and clothes ready.
Next errand to buy new locks, then to have ironsmith come to make gate strong. Except, Tahm considered, gate already strong. And new lock not help. If old lock not keep kamoy out, why new lock any better. No, something not right.
How had kamoy come through lock last night? Or had Khun not lock gate? Hospital send several ambulance to take everyone to hospital, much confusion and Khun tired from long day. Mistake easy. Khun not city, small town, not think to lock gate?
Kun Khun very quiet all day. Khun apologize for not stopping kamoy but still not able say how kamoy get in. Tahm see marks on Khun where tied – look real but how judge?
And Tahm not know how het mao get in soup. Het mao not grow local, come from gulf islands in south. Still, some farahng ask for het mao – call ‘magic mushroom’ – but not common. Most farahng asked for opium, heroin or marijuana. Opium gum was common, yes – not legal to sell but used by hill tribes where grow poppies. Heroin was not legal at all and had stiff penalties: life imprisonment or execution. Penalties for marijuana also very serious.
But why het mao? Did guest put in soup? Think het mao joke? If so, which farahng? And how get het mao?
Or was more serious? Kamoy steal Kun Joan luggage at airport but have picture of Kun Sarah. Then everyone at Baan Orchid get sick and kamoy steal from everyone. But why? What kamoy look for?
The locksmith was problem. Not have three lock, same key. Instead, Tahm go to second locksmith to find proper lock.
And then time to go back to Consulate, pick up Kun Terry and guests to return to Baan Orchid. Not time for Tahm to run other errand.
Not time to decide on answers either.
And no time for ironsmith.
Baan Orchid, 4:27 PM
“Since we haven’t had a chance to visit the market and as disrupted as things have been,” Nolan suggested, “I thought we might go out to dinner tonight. Then, tomorrow, we can pick things up again. If this is acceptable to everyone?”
“Geen kow, ka!” Tanya seconded, sounding quite credible. “Is that right?” she asked. “A falling tone on the last?”
“Dee mak, kahp!” Nolan assured her.
“Dee mak, that means good, yes?”
“Very good. Or, literally, good very.”
“Then geen kow, kahp,” Bren seconded the thought. “Do we go back to the market where we were?”
“I think Nolan has something else in mind?” Joan suggested. “The market was good but it does seem to be an easy habit. To keep going back to the same place, I mean. I remember a trip to Lima and dear Debbie found this little restaurant the first day there and she simply wouldn’t go anywhere else. I had to just leave her, you understand, and go exploring on my own. I mean, you can’t go somewhere and then just take root now, can you? Who knows what you’d be missing? And I’m sure Nolan knows all kind of nice places, don’t you, dear?”
“Uh, well, there’s Sanpakhoi Market for one. Between the train station and the river on Charoen Meuang. But I was thinking of introducing you to khao soi – that’s a Shan-Burmese noodle dish. Khao soi begins with flat, wheat noodles similar to Malaysian laksa prepared with a spicy curry broth and chicken. Or beef or pork, of course.
“What I had in mind was New Lamduon Faharm Kao Soi on Charoenrat Road. And,” he added, addressing Tanya, “they also serve khanom rang pheung – literally, that’s ‘beehive pastry’ but it’s more like a waffle made with fresh coconut.”
“Uh, how expensive is it?” Greg was fingering the sheath of hundred-baht bills.
“Khao soi? About ten baht for a bowl,” Nolan smiled. “Good food doesn’t have to be expensive.”
“I can’t get a handle on prices,” Greg admitted. “Here you say a thousand baht is roughly forty dollars … and then you talk about dinner costing ten baht. That’s only forty cents.”
“Well,” Nolan considered, “if you’re really extravagant, you might be able to spend a dollar or two on dinner. But you can eat very well for a lot less than a hundred baht.”
“Maybe,” Greg blushed slightly, “I should leave most of this money here. Uh, maybe I could put it in the safe? And just carry two hundreds? So I don’t get into trouble again?”
Near Holiday Inn Green Hills, Chiang Mai, 4:51 PM
“Don’t give me that garbage. We didn’t find it. That means it has to be in the safe.”
“Safe too heavy carry,” Baw shook his head. “Not know how open safe. Need special tools, pang mak mak. Not know where find.”
New Lamduon Faharm Kao Soi, 5:46 PM
“Kun Nolan tell maa kroouh that you farahng nahk kohn kroouh,” the waiter wai’d to the table. “Maa kroouh ask if you wish see how khao soi make?”
“I think,” Jeffery rose from the table, “we’re being invited to the kitchen?”
5:52 PM
“Cook bamee – noodle – then rinse cool water. Cook much bamee, keep wet, mai kahp? Then curry important – cook nahm gatih … How say, kahp?”
“Coconut milk,” Nolan supplied.
“Co-co-nut milk, khob khun kahp. Cook co-co-nut milk slow until nahm mahn on top,” the chef gestured at the steaming surface where small pools of oil were forming. “Then add krueng gaang peht – you call red curry, mai kahp? – and cook slow two, three minute.” He matched actions to his instructions, stirring a healthy measure of reddish paste into the simmering coconut milk.
“Do you make your own … uh, curry paste,” Jeffery inquired. “Or do you buy it at the market.”
“Tahm gaang, kahp! Not buy,” the chef was emphatic. “Make fresh, not good buy. Co-co-nut milk fresh too, kahp.”
“No shortcuts,” Sarah agreed, a note of anger in her expression. “Good food doesn’t come by accident. Sorry,” she apologized but didn’t explain.
Any working kitchen appears crowded even when only occupied by the normal compliment of cooks and, here, the addition of eight visiting farahng, while welcome and present by invitation, was straining the capacity of the establishment. Thus, by unspoken agreement, most of the visitors chose to depart, reassembling around a table outside the kitchen area.
“I like the layout,” Greg suggested. “You’re not cut off from everything.” He nodded toward the stainless steel counter and glass coolers only partially separating the kitchen from the serving area where they were seated.
“It is one of the big differences,” Nolan agreed. “Here, you don’t have to wonder what the kitchen is like, you can look – nothing’s out-of-sight or hidden.”
“And everything’s totally spotless, too.” Greg ran his hand across the tabletop. “I mean, the table’s a little worn, sure, but it’s clean. Is everyplace like this?”
“Pretty much,” Nolan admitted. “Some of the bigger hotels have western style kitchens but most people feel more comfortable if they can see – and smell – what’s cooking. Not what you expected?”
“Not really. I mean, everyone was saying ‘Don’t drink the water’ and telling me to pack pepto and all. I guess … I don’t know what I was imagining. Not like this anyway. But if every place is really this clean …”
“If it isn’t,” Nolan laughed, “you’ll know without asking. Uh, bottled water, however, is still a good idea.”
“I’ve seen worse,” Joan reminisced, “too many places. I remember this little bistro in Paris – over on the Left Bank – where you’d think they were raising the rats for the especiality de maison. Or they could have been for pets, I suppose. In any case, Emily absolutely screamed when one ran across her foot – which could be rather startling, I must admit. Not that I was interested in eating there, you understand. Even though I don’t suppose they were really cooking them, you know. Not even the French do that – not any more at least though I did hear stories about during the war. But that was such a long time ago too. And this really is so much nicer, isn’t it.”
“Absolutely,” Bob Maxwell laughed. “But, yes, I know what you mean, there was this place in Costa Brava where they served nutria – they’re second cousin to a rat…”
Surat Thani, 6:08 PM
Saanpa not know what do. Address not real, job not real. Saanpa find other job maybe? But how? Not know anyone, not know who ask. Have money left, kahp, but not enough for VP bus to Chiang Mai.
Maybe not enough for train either – third class ticket, maybe, maybe not. But take long time hitchhike north.
* * *
New Lamduon Faharm Kao Soi, 6:51 PM
“…not really that much trouble to make,” Bren was commenting. “Fresh coconut milk could be a problem, of course, but we could have frozen coconut milk shipped in.”
“We definitely want fresh curry paste though,” Jeffery added. “And the fried bird’s nest noodles on top, yes?”
“Absolutely, but the chilies …” he nudged the saucer of chilies fried in oil. “Well, we can always warn the customers.” Bren looked around for a moment, then focused on a family man at another table who was using a small spoon to ladle the fiery oil over his noodles.
“Or offer a milder version,” Jeffery suggested, following his partner’s gaze. “Some people prefer them hot.”
“And some will hate the pickled cabbage.”
“I hate the pickled cabbage.”
“You always hate cabbage,” Bren grinned.
“But we could offer dakon or pickled garlic. You’ve got to admit that it’s elegant.”
“So is the kanome rang fun,” Tanya suggested. “Did I say that right?”
“Not exactly,” Nolan smiled. “But close. So, don’t forget, we have a class scheduled for tomorrow – at the Chiang Mai Thai Cookery School. Ten o’clock.”
“Sounds good to me,” Bob patted his stomach. “Except I want to find a new camera first. Think we could find one this evening? Or should I do that tomorrow? Except if I can find the right camera tonight, then tomorrow I can tape the birds at the market. And releasing them and all.”
“The Night Bazaar will be open,” Nolan assured him. “If you can’t find it there, you can’t find it. Just be careful about the prices.” Outside, the sky was just beginning to darken. Still, even though it was early evening yet, it had also been a long – and strenuous – day.
“That’s the place we went shopping yesterday – that is, the day before – right?” Joan was consulting a tourist map as she asked. “Where your Jack’s Number 5 is?”
Nolan nodded.
“Well then, there’s still that outfit I wanted to get. How about you, Sarah?”
“Thanks,” Sarah smiled, “but I think I’d rather relax this evening.”
“Well,” Rosalyn considered, “if Bob’s going shopping for a camera, I wouldn’t mind joining you. Buying a camera can keep Bob busy for hours. What about you, Tanya?”
“Sure,” the younger woman agreed. “Why not, I could use a few things.”
“If you want to share a tuk-tuk,” Greg stood, “I was up kind of early this morning. I think maybe I’ll – uh – give it a rest.”
“Sure,” Sarah agreed. “Anyone else for Baan Orchid?”
Night Bazaar, 7:24 PM
“Ladies,” Bob requested. “If you will excuse me?” He was looking around as he spoke, surveying the street and the storefronts.