My Morning Routine

(My apologies to you for writing such a long post about something so trivial, but I am practicing writing detailed descriptions to get the feel for a place and figured that I would start with something easy. For those who read on, I appreciate your humoring me!).

I woke up this morning at 7:00 a.m. and made my daily trip to the gym, always the perfect start to my day. I’ve been trying to walk “mindfully” to the gym, staying in the present moment and really being aware of my surroundings, preparing for my meditation retreat and, hey, after all, this is Thailand, what better place to practice walking meditation? I’ve noticed that, unless you are consciously hearing, you can often walk along a busy street without hearing a thing. But if you pay attention, on my street, at 7:15 in the morning, the sound you hear most is of the traffic rushing by. The large blue 5 bhat buses are the loudest. You can hear them coming before you see them barreling down the road trailing clouds of black exhaust. The smaller green bhat buses are the next loudest. Next come the tuk-tuks, so named for the raucous sound they make. Then the motorcycles, whirring by, followed by the less imposing family sedans. In the morning, Thannon (Road) Issarapab is devoid of the chatter of Thai’s; the few who are out, setting up their shops or rushing to catch a bus to work keep to themselves, busy with the task at hand.

The sidewalk I walk down is made up of individual concrete blocks, each a little less than a square foot. Here and there, the blocks show signs of age in the form of grease stains and stains of other unknown substances, but overall it is in one piece and reveals little about the hundreds of feet and wheels that it hosts each day.

Each side of the street is lined with stores. In the morning, their identity is kept secret from me by identical metal doors and indecipherable Thai writing. The first open store I encounter appears to be something of a convenience store, although I’ve never been inside. The same sour faced old man is arranging newspapers on a table outside his shop every morning as I walk by.

Past the newspaper stand is a Shell gas (petrol) station, on the far side of which, sits a group of about 5 motorcycle taxi drivers who have taken to warning me when there is traffic coming down the side road beyond the Shell station. Now that I’ve realized there is a road there, I make sure to stop and look before crossing, smiling at the motorcycle drivers who all smile and laugh. On my left is the elevated cross walk to the 7-11 on the other side of the street.

After the Shell station, the stores continue; one, a pet store, revealed by the colored shapes of cats and dogs on the windows. Across the street are the internet cafes and the post office, both of which I recognize. On my right, the high fence of the grounds of a wat begins and the colorful roof of the wat peeks through the trees.

Young Thai women walk down the sidewalk or run to catch buses looking smart in pencil thin skirts and fitted blouses. Young Thai men amble along with hip shaggy hairstyles, tight fitting jeans and plastic flip flops. The traffic continues almost unceasingly as I try to cross.

The full glass windows of the gym reveal rows of treadmills, bikes and stair masters. When I enter, the teenaged boy who works the front desk is asleep with his head on the counter (a common occurrence). I quietly sign in and pick a towel off of the counter, wondering if he left them there for me, knowing that I don’t wake him for my locker key when I find him in that state. I bring my bag with me into the gym and take my place on the treadmill where I can watch Thai morning life go by and try to ignore the curious Thai’s who stare out of bus windows to watch the strange foreign woman under glass.