Sabai, sabai

Sorry about the delay in posts...we've been very busy teaching this week! This post is from Meg.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a Thai saying that goes, “sabai, sabai.” The lackadaisical people of Thailand use this saying to shape their lifestyle on terms of, “it’ll get done when it gets done,” or “just go with the flow.” Our adventures on Sunday tested our patience, physical strength, and our ability to integrate with a sabai, sabai way of life.

For starters, Saturday we were given the option to go visit the palace of King Mongkut, the fourth king of Siam (Thailand). This king is known to us, and probably you, as the king from The King and I. I whistled a happy tune as we unanimously agreed that we would be “getting to know you,” King Mongkut.

Come Sunday afternoon, we are waiting in the van when Dr. Hartigan told us that our van driver said we could not go to the palace because it was closed but that we would be going to someplace similar to Monkey Mountain. Dr. Hartigan reminded us to “be flexible”…oh and , “sabai, sabai.” So surely, little disappointment was had and we continued our venture.

After about 45 minutes in the car, Father Dheparat directs us to look up at the georgeous palace we were supposed to go. Surrounded by lush greenery, King Mongkut’s palace was located on the very top of a small mountain. It was stunning to see but, sabai, sabai; I was sure that the other site we were about to visit would be just as unique.

Another 15 minutes goes by and we park and get out of the car. As a prepared traveler, I brought a bottle of water to keep myself hydrated in the lovely 100 degree weather. As we are walking down the block, to a location I still was unsure of, a cute little monkey comes walking along. Suddenly, this precious little creature sprouts wings and ringmaster’s costume. The shrills of the wicked witch guide this vicious creature to admire my water bottle. A hoot and a holler and the monkey taps at it and I clench on closer. The shrills crescendo as he climbs up my leg to embrace romance with my only source of hydration. So I throw this little brat my water bottle and he continues on his way up a light post while I suddenly age 15 years. But I mean, sabai, sabai. It’s not like we’re going on a hike or climbing a mountain in this heat or anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We walk about five more feet and I glance up to see these stunning, old, windey, brick roads that work their way uphill through an abundance up trees and other indigenous plants. After catching my breath from such a stunning sight, I realized we were walking up this antique path. But ya know, sabai, sabai. However, I do not believe I was thinking that in the moment. I was thinking something more along the lines of, “Heat…Water…I hate monkeys…Am I going to survive?...Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret…I just referred to myself as Margaret, this is important, ok??!”

My cheeks were developing a lovely rouge tone as we continued our upward climb to an unknown destination for what felt like 4 hours but was probably closer to twenty minutes. Right when my life stops flashing before my eyes, we get to the top and reach what appears to be either a palace or a temple. I could tell we were at some place historic, wherever we so happened to be. Inside, while walking around the museum, one of the museum workers points to a grand bed and said “The king was very short.” Ok, so that was some king’s bed.  Looking around I see pottery in the cabinets that is labeled as being from the mid-19^th century. Still regaining composure I try to wrap my head around when that was, “1850s? 1950s? 1776? 1942?” I began to wonder if we had made it to King Mongkut’s palace after all. Either way, sabai, sabai; everything was pretty.

The view was absolutely breath-taking. I could see the road we drove up earlier. I asked Dr. Hartigan if this was the palace we were originally supposed to go to, King Mongkut’s palace. He said it was. Sabai, sabai.

Avoiding the descent downhill, we waited as long as possible. Eventually, the park did close and we were forced to return to the van. The park’s staff was conveniently scattering the path with rice for the monkeys, which actually was helpful; instead of the monkeys being focused on the bottle of water that Father Dheparat bought me, they were focused on the rice. I still clung onto my new water bottle and purse with all my might.

In the van, we soon became zombies of exhaustion. Halfway through the drive back to campus, Father Dheparat instructs the driver to pull over to a small café because apparently we all looked like we needed a snack. Who would have thought? Being a hospitable Thai, Father Dheparat paid for all our snacks. And for whatever reason, Father waited until after we were done eating to tell us that we could’ve taken a cable car to the top of the palace. And for whatever reason, he was the only one laughing. Sabai, sabai.