It’s a funny place, Thailand, at least in the NW, where I’ve been, and in B (Bangkok), The Big City. You’re almost invisible as a farang (foreigner), ignored politely, regarded as part of the landscape, not diminished nor disregarded, but irrelevant. Almost no eye contact, no clear interest, it’s not like being in other countries where the curiosity that must be there is expressed openly.
But who knows?
It’s only been ten days.
The routine, of course, is MMCRW (markets, massages, cooking, reading, writing).
A recent discovery: The northern rice fields, of which there are an abundance, are, I’m told by AF (another farang), individually owned, sometimes collectively farmed, and sometimes tenant farmed. The rice–“HOW” (with a hard “H”)–is so plentiful that Thailand is the world’s largest rice exporter.
The rice is long grained, mostly, and fresh and delicious.