Bangkla: Wristwatch, and Rambutan

One of the first stories told by my gradfather on our trip is that of our uncle, Paul. On a return trip to Thailand he and Paul had come to work in the clinic; on the way home Paul stopped and bought a “Rolex” from a street vendor, against his father’s better wishes. When boarding the plane, Paul is asked asked the time, he looks at his wrist and finds his watch has stopped working. With my cell phone out of commission for the trip and my fossil needing a new battery back in Abilene, I have the need for a cheap watch. After withstanding ridicule from my grandfather who is certain I will get swindled by a street vendor, a fact he cannot seem to stop laughing about, John Mark and I leave the hospital compound and begin searching for a watch in the market. After walking for twenty minutes with little success we find a shop selling watches. After searching the inventory of the shop and seeing that there are no Rolexes for sale I buy a cheap, 300 baht ($9), digital watch that has an alarm. I chose the specific watch because it is relatively cheap and is one of the only watches that will fit around my large American wrist.

After leaving the watch store we are wondering around the market looking at the many interesting things being sold when we happen into (as if you can walk through the market without running into one) a fruit stand. Out of the many different fruits displayed in front of me one specific fruit catches my eyes, Rambutan. When talking to my sister about her experience in Thaild she said that both her and her husband, Kyle, liked the fruit that looked like a strawberry covered in spikes; the Rambutan fits the description so I ask the woman, who speaks no English, if I can have “nit noi.” The woman retrieves a bag and begins putting handfuls of Rambutan into the bag. I begin to worry that I accidentally asked for her entire stock and that it will cost me more money than I am willing to pay for the nit noi of fruit I am expecting. As she continues to pile Rambutan into the bag I try to communicate that I don’t want anymore and what she has placed in the bag is plenty, but due to our communication barrier I look like an idiot waving my arms in the air. When she finally finishes, I ask her how much she expects me to pay her for the small feast of fruit she has placed in the bag. “One hundred,” is her reply. After calculating the price in my head I hand her the 100 baht ($3), take my kilo of fruit, and we walk back to our apartment...the fruit is delicious.


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