ภาคหนึ่ง - เหตุผลและคนจะไป
- 2022 -
Aug 6
I use the toilet every morning; it makes me feel relieved and ready for whatever to come during the day. But I don’t like doing it in the morning for a lab test at a hospital. It’s just disgusting.
This morning I pooped for a my check-up at the hospital. But while collecting my own waste with some difficulties, I suddenly thought of my mom, dad, grandparents, or whoever used to change my diapers when I was baby. While changing all of those shitty diapers, who did they think I’d become or what did they expect from me? A dentist, a doctor, an engineer? Or they simply just wanted me not to be involved with drugs and gambling? (By the way, I did gamble once on basketballs, online baccarat when I was in grade 11. Took me 3000 baht in total, fuck me.) I think they would never expect (at least in that era of diaper changing) that I’d be the first person in the family heading abroad to study, in some programme called Master CLE, or Master in European Literary Cultures.
Neither did I. To be frank, I hadn’t planned all of this before I saw a Erasmus Introduction on the European Union in Thailand’s Facebook Live a year ago.
During sophomore year in Ms. Goodman’ English for conversation class, I said “I will probably choose to work right away after graduation”. No gap year, no work-and-travel. Just work right away. We live in a capitalist world, so we have to work to earn as much money as possible. That’s all. You can see that until this sentence in the paragraph, there’s no idea of studying for a master's degree. So you may wonder, why did I change my mind?
Even I am still curious about that too.
…..
Aug 9
Two days ago, after taking a graduation photo set with my family and friends, a bit tired but happy, I said to Bambi, Ton and Noopook:
“Damn, I feel freaking ‘jai-hai’.”
Then I wondered, what’s an English word for ‘jai-hai (ใจหาย).’ Cause there’s no adjective to describe this feeling when, at one point, you realize that you’ve undergone so many changes, that there are many things and people coming in your life, and that “time really flies.” On the other hand, Oou gave an interesting (and beautifully poetic) description for ‘jai-hai’;
…..
Yesterday, I went to the right wing on the 10th floor of Bubhajit building for one last time (at least before the flight). Glad to meet p’ R. (in Thai, “p (พี่)’” is used as a honorific to call older people in workplace school, etcetera), the editorial team and Ms. P. But it would have been a perfect goodbye if p’ M., my professional mentor, were there too; she got covid a few days ago.
…..
Felt so fucking good today, having fried bananas and Thai spicy noodle at the favorite joint. But there, a bowl of noodle would be like, £10 euros?
.....
Aug 13
The final season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine just available on Thai Netflix today! So healed as always, yet a bit heartbroken as it is gonna end for me (the sitcom ended last year in the States).
But every (good) thing must come to an end, right?
…..
Almost finished packing up today, just a few clothes left to be packed. I also got rid of old clothes and university uniforms (we call them ‘chod-nisit (ชุดนิสิต)’) to donate. Accidentally, I saw a make-up stain on a nisit shirt’s collar. I got this stain from Freshy Game, like the Olympics for the freshmen, while competing in a dancesport. It’s one of the craziest things I ever did in Chula. Having no fucking experience, or even gift, on dancing, I just wanted to do it and kept practicing. I even had a naive fucking drama with Eye, my dance partner, that I wasn’t as good as she was (she had participated a high-school dancesport competition before); that she wouldn’t get a medal because of me; and that after the competition she and I could not be friends anymore (so fucking naive). Eventually, we got a bronze for tango and got into the waltz's final round. And, luckily, Eye and I are still friends (if I don’t get anything wrong).
There are other stories from joining the Arts dancesport club, but let’s not talk about them (at least explicitly).
I just left the club’s chat group days ago.
…..
It is a good that Instagram shows less advertised posts and strangers’ reels (don’t fucking try to make your platforms TikTok, Mark). However there’s some con to me. I can more easily see on my feed her posts or stories, which I have avoided for some time with no fucking sane reason of doing so. I’m mad at her? No. I hate her? No fucking way, no.
Believe it or not, I am thankful to her. I really am. Still am. She made me realize how narcissistic I always was (and have been). I misunderstood that she liked me, that there had been a coup de foudre between us. Yeah, I misread it all. Defending myself: how could I know what she really thought or felt for me? At that time, we only talked via IG’s DM because of the fucking covid.
Anyway, just knowing she’s having a great time there, I’m happy for her.
How do I know that? Yeah, thanks to the fucking algorithm of Instagram.
…..
Why did I decide to study abroad?
First of all, I do want to develop my language skills. My English, French and Spanish must be degrading for sure if I still live here, in Thailand. (I don’t even know now if these sentences I wrote so far are grammatically correct). I also get a chance to learn Greek too! It’s quite hard, το ομόλογό, but it’s a happy living hell where I am happy to be.
Secondly, I do want to build on my knowledge. And there are really things I am interested in. In fact, besides Master CLE, I applied for Sciences Po’s Journalism and International Affairs program. However I did not pass the interview round; I stammered and didn’t answer the questions sharply. So that was a shame, but no regrets.
Back to the CLE thing, I think that I am always attracted to Western culture in general: cinema, literature, art, ideas, history, etcetera. Because of my interests and skills in Occidental languages. Most importantly, I can picture myself studying for a master's degree and (kinda) know what to do for my mémoire. So yeah, I took the chance.
Thirdly, like most of the (Asian) families, my parents want me to get a doctorate degree (but let’s wait and see if I still have a good mental health to do so).
Lastly, I want to see the world beyond, to see if there’s a place where I’d fit in more. It doesn’t mean I don’t get along with anyone back here in Bangkok. But, you know, I have to go and see that by myself. If there’s really somewhere else I belong, I may live there, possibly permanently. If not, then I will just come back to Thailand. In short, I just go with the flow.
…..
Back to late July 2021. After the Thai EU bureau’s Facebook Live ended, I looked into Erasmus Mundus’s catalog and considered CLE and another journalism program were best shots for me to try. Some programs in Humanities require efficiency test results in THREE different languages, English included. But the two aforementioned do not. Unfortunately, due to my underperforming result in the IELTS speaking test, the journalism program was out of the question for me. On the other hand, I was still qualified to apply for CLE.
Language efficiency tests checked. Now I got to deal with the recommendation letters. I am always a bit nervous and do not like to bother anyone to do something for me. But with this master thing, I asked two ajarn (professors) of mine to be my referees, Ms. Warunee and Ms. Vanichcha. Not to mention that I also asked Ms. Julie, Mr. Piriyadit and p’ M. to write letters for my Sciences Po master candidature (which I would fail as I’ve told you earlier). Without them, things would have been more difficult, so I am truly grateful.
I submitted my Master CLE application (and the Sciences Po one) on January 13. I still remember the date because I went to watch Petite Maman before submitting those applications. At that time, you know, after months of language tests and a chaotic document preparation, all I could do was to wait. Okay, I could be a bit distracted thanks to my freelance writer gig with p’ M. and homework. But the worries were always there.
The day that would change everything
On the night of April 6, I was notified that I was not qualified to Sciences Po’s Journalism and International Affairs program. The next day, going to work, I told this to p’ M. and she understood how I felt. She told me I wasn’t a student in Politics, nor working with any NGOs, so maybe that was why. Anyway, I told her further that I still didn’t get the results from CLE. “You’re an Arts student,” she said, “so you are definitely selected for that”. As I was driving, I just listened, then got to work without thinking about my academic future.
That day, the Gmail notification had something fucking wrong, plus I was so busy that I didn’t check my mailbox. The next morning, I turned on my laptop and started to work as usual. Then I just happened to check my Gmails. The latest mail was from some woman named Ms. Lucia.
I opened the mail. It said that I was selected in the “Reserve List” for CLE and that I could participate in the program as, then, a self-funded student.
Holy shit, p’ M.’s words were sacred.
But at the very moment, my first genuine reaction was not a surprise, nor a happiness, but a question: What the fuck does it mean I am in the Reserve List?!
I immediately called Rin, my ex-turned-best-friend whose life was no different than mine (as she also applied for Erasmus Mundus in Children Literature program). She congratulated me for five seconds, then got a headache for the next ten minutes when she and I interpreted the meaning of “Reserve List” here. Did it mean that I wasn’t officially accepted by the program despite being selected to be a self-funded student? Damn, this shouldn’t have been difficult to understand. But never having any experiences studying abroad, I chose to be pessimistic first. “I think”, said Rin, “it means you are on the Reserve List of scholarship holders.” Really? Possibly. Still, I did not believe that might be the case for me. “Hmm, let’s see what’s going to happen next,” I told her. “Ahhhh! You are really stubborn!” she replied. Yeah Rin, you know me best about that.
Two months later, the answer appeared: I was on the Reserve List of scholarship holders.
“Due to the drop out of a student on the Main List, you have the opportunity of being awarded an Erasmus Mundus scholarship for the edition 2022-2024 within the Erasmus Mundus CLE program,” mailed Ms. L.
Me during the first meeting with Ms. L.
I FUCKING SCREAMED THIS TIME.
…..
Aug 14
Picking up from where I left: during April to late July, I was so worried about documents required to finalize my CLE application, within the deadline of July 31. I wasn’t sure when Chula would issue my transcript and my certificate. Then I had to have them legalized at the Thai Consulate and the French Embassy, which I didn’t know either when it would be. And ultimately, I had to get a “Declaration of Value” from the Italian Embassy as a “document concerning the value of foreign qualifications”. (Note: CLE’s coordinator university is University of Bologna, so that’s why the Italian Embassy was involved with this). Not to mention the Visa thing. Ughhhhh, so tired. Luckily, the staff of all mentioned organizations were helpful, hence the submission of all required documents in time before the deadline.
Even though the document issue and the financial one were no longer problems, I’m still worried about my life in Strasbourg, you know. Where to eat? How will the accommodation be? Which monthly travel ticket to buy? Where to watch movies? When to do some daily exercise? How will everyone back home be without me? And the most nerve-wracking question: Am I really qualified enough to study in this program? I do not want to be, like, an imposter, pretending to be good and talented to join this. But there is no turning back from this, from all of this I’ve wanted for a long time.
Now I don’t give it a fuck. Just do my best when I’m there.
…..
In the morning, I came to visit my father and grandma’s relatives. Gonna miss my little cousins Japan and Janis for sure!
Later, I had dinner with my classmates (aka ‘Les Survivants’) from French Major. Over the past four years, I considered that we, all eleven students, got along quite well although we did not talk or hang out much (actually, barely). The most all-for-one-and-one-for-all moments were the ones when we had to do in-class exercises or homework. After graduation, it seems to me that everyone is doing fine, with some struggles to tackle.
Despite having just six of us this evening, there was fun, and some surprises to congratulate. The biggest one was that Mukky applied for the US green card lotto for her boyfriend, and they won! They’re moving to the States next year. “One thing I’ve learned at the age of almost 23,” I said “is that to be successful, not only you gotta be ‘keng (เก่ง - talented),’ but you also gotta be ‘heng (เฮง - lucky)’.” It’s a bit tricky and unfair, yeah, I admit that. But this is still so fucking true. However, it doesn’t mean that we should not do our best or just rely on fortune. No. We still continue struggling because life is a struggle. If we don’t work hard and keep what’s best in ourselves, even luck is totally useless. Besides, we can build on that luck and use it to help other people. Solidarity with luck is a key for us to fight against all the odds in this absurd world.
Why do I sound like a fucking life coach? Fuck.
Anyway, I wished this evening everyone had been there.
Hungry!
…..
Aug 16
Le dernier pèlerinage
I didn’t see such a crowd in the Arts canteen for quite some time. Seeing these happy-to-be-back-onside students, I felt a bit old though I just graduated two months ago.
Today, I intended to meet my French-section ajarns and p’ M. at the faculty before the flight next Friday. It was like my academic and professional worlds collided, you know, haha. We discussed my future and possible career paths after obtaining a master’s degree. They all told me: supposing that that time comes and I want to pursue a Ph.D. to be a professor/ajarn, do it right away. If not, then a master’s degree would be enough. “Doing a 300-page doctoral thesis,” Mr. Piriyadit told me, “is like doing three master's theses. And that is very difficult, exhausting”. He also suggested that a master’s thesis not be that “epic” or “Nobel-worthy”; just do something simple, yet interesting, to guarantee your degree. Both Mr. Piriyadit and Ms. Warunee told me that the scariest thing about studying abroad is not studying, but homesickness. “But I hope you can handle everything well because you know how to get along with other people,” said Ms. Vanichcha, who gave me as a gift a bendable wood doll to play with when I’m stressed. Accidentally, I also met Ms. Naya (from a research and computer skills class in the freshman year), Mr. Shane (with whom I always ran into in the faculty’s elevator) and Ms. Pep (I already forgot Russian she had taught me, so embarrassed of me). “Time flies!” Everyone said that to me, and it’s true. Who knows, ten years later, I might come back as an ajarn here (Kao, please read the condition above first). Anyway, glad to see them too!
In the afternoon, I met p’ M., who also graduated with a master's degree from the faculty. As usual, we talked about a lot of things: situations in the office, her recovery from covid and recent cancer-involved surgeries, her days in the faculty, my future plans, etcetera. She knew me by a recommendation from my French tutor, p’ Kao (also one of my mentors), and I began working as a translator of some French articles. With no freaking proper knowledge on fashion, I asked p’ M., the deputy editor of a fashion magazine, to be a writer intern. And she took me in. I think at that time, the editorial team, even p’ M., didn't expect anything from me. To me, I simply wanted to reach out my connection and do something I’d never thought of, just like the case of dancesport back in my freshman year. Anyway, I dedicated myself to work, doing (almost) everything I’d been assigned for. Even though I didn’t write much about fashion, it turned out that I outperformed. After the internship ended, I was hired as a freelance writer on general articles, working with p’ R. (under another licenced magazine within the company) for five months. A half year later, p’ M. contacted me again. This time, as a freelance interview writer, I worked with her for almost a year, then I quit because of this master stuff.
After three years of having worked for the company, I’ve really grown up and gotten out of my comfort zone. In other words, I’ve become less ‘duk-dann’ (ดักดาน - constantly stupid without trying to learn anything new). The gig has taught me to be less arrogant and more open-hearted to anything and anyone I’d never followed or heard of. My ability of being a ‘master of none’ has also been helpful with this as well. Plus, the Drive-My-Car sessions with p’ M. were great real-life lesson classes to me. Every time I picked her up to work, she would talk about anything with me. Those were really fun times. Despite her health problems and traumatic moments in life, not only is she still standing, but giving opportunities to everyone, me included of course. This might sound exaggerated, but she’s like a heroine of the Absurd to me.
Not just p’ M., I’ve been lucky enough to have all these people: ajarns, mentors and my family, to support me. My family has shown me how to fight against all the crazy shits in life (though they caused some by themselves). Likewise, my ajarns and mentors have shown me how to work in solidarity with other people, whose standpoint and value aren’t corresponding to theirs, for the sake of the organization. Again, it’s like when Dr. Rieux and father Paneloux are tackling the plague together in spite of their different beliefs.
…..
Aug 18
Balm, inhaler and gooses are indispensable for the Thais. Whatever pain, faint or ache you have, they fucking help relieving it.
I bought some today, and already packed them in my baggage.
…..
It was my last ‘double-feature’ day before the flight. At noon, with Rin, I watched Fire of Love, a great documentary about Katia and Maurice Krafft, a geologist couple whose lives were dedicated to studying volcanoes. I didn’t know before that they graduated from l'université de Strasbourg, the same one I’m going to next week. So it was a real surprise and a good coincidence. A few hours later, we watched another badass Jordan Peele film, Nope, with Bambi joining us. Speaking of which, these two people are the best friends in my university life. We share the same interests: books, films, food and jokes (mine are jackass ones). So that’s maybe why we get along well.
Rin and I were helping each other while applying for our master's degree programmes. Of course, we both got accepted from the programmes we wished for. Not selected to be granted a scholarship, first she hesitated whether she would self-fund for the programme as the family would welcome her brother’s second baby. She was so stressed that she made possible plans of if and if-not accepting the deal this year. Informed by Rin herself that her father had saved enough money, I told her “you’ve dreamt about this a long time ago. If you don’t do this now, you’d wonder and regret for the rest of your life”. Her other friends told her so as well. At last, she decided to go, and is heading to Scotland one week after my departure.
Bambi, a funny and so fucking smart young lady from Philosophy major, is a real confidant of mine. We’ve become close friends since the Play Analysis course in the sophomore year. Our houses are located on the very same heavily trafficked road of Ramkhamhaeng, so we’d often go back home or hang out together. Especially in time of Covid, she’d come to my house and we’d study online together. So probably that’s another reason we’re so close. So close that her mom usually kids us as if we were a couple. No, ma’am, your daughter and I are beyond that.
After separating with Rin and sending Bambi home, a classic question came to me: how can perfect strangers become friends? This is fucking mysterious. Oddly, we can’t get along with some people despite having the same backgrounds or hobbies. But with some others we can.
Without two of them, my life in the past four years would’ve been less lively and more difficult.
Two of my saints
.....
Aug 19
Clearing my email inbox (another way to tackle global warming, I’ve heard), I saw there were still invitations to edit her composition drafts and exercises.
…..
This morning, I drove my grandma to a tree shop nearby. Like other elders, she likes gardening, vigorously watering all the plants every morning despite her age of 81. Being a good enough grandson, I’ve always driven her to that tree shop, and also taken the role of moderator when she and my parents have a fight over plants or anything. “You’re too obsessed with plants! Get back inside, Ma, don’t be outdoors too long,” my father usually warns her. “But because of me, your house is cooler than the neighbors’!”, she replies. Then she complains to me, of course, behind my parents’ backs: “Should have watered them with hot water so that I’d stop planting for you! And why does your mom randomly trims my trees even though she doesn’t know how?” “Why you say this to me but not to her directly, grandma?”, I murmured. This all-time, classic household problem is kinda boring, lasting and silly, and it’s not the only one. But I guess almost every household has its own endless problems, and they still love each other. So does my family, though we’re all freaking stubborn.
Just like she plants, grandma has really raised me well.
…..
Aug 20
After having lunch, my brother, his girlfriend (I usually refer to these two as ‘Pra-ek (พระเอก)’ and ‘Nang-ek (นางเอก)’, which are terms to call male and female protagonists in Thai melodramas), and I went to Siam Square to take some photos from photo booths. There was a crowd, mostly teenagers and YAs, at every corner of the street. And I’m glad that these young people finally got to live a life after a series of confinements and travel restrictions.
Though I just graduated two months ago (not to mention that I often roamed in Siam after classes), I already felt alienated from being there and, frankly, a bit sad to see these people having the same styles or hopping the same cafés. To me, it’s kinda social conformity in our generation, as a result of social media influences and lack of other public recreational activities. So it’s not their fault, it’s not our fault that there ain’t many other shits to do. Cities should be fun, creatively inspiring and accessible to all. Although things in Bangkok are getting slightly better (partly because of the new governor), in other provinces it’s still not the case.
I really feel I don’t belong here anymore.
Yum!
…..
Aug 25
The Day Before
If I were that young Jansen from Chien de printemps (Afterimages), the last few days would be like my ‘pot d’adieu.’ (Hmm, or should I say it was the ‘dernier pelerinage : Édition gastro’?) From Sunday to today, my dad already took us to three restaurants and a joint, covering Chinese, Central Thai and Southern Thai food. Not to mention our other favorite Northeastern (aka ‘Isan - อีสาน’) joint where we’ll go for lunch tomorrow. Yesterday, my father did a family monologue to be a pre-sent-off. “I can accept whatever you two will be, '' he said to me and my brother, ”but you have to be good men. I only graduated from [rural] technical college, you two will gain master’s degree. So I think you can think what’s best for yourselves from now on. Your mom and I have done our duties, and I sayin’ this on behalf of her too.”
I felt, again, ‘jai-hai.’ After having like a million meals, both good and bad ones, together as a family, there’ll be another person missing from the table: me. Then I thought of my paternal grandpa, who passed away 35 years ago from internal injuries. Of course, me going abroad doesn’t mean I’m going to die! Anyway, I’ve only seen him from the picture, but I kinda know him based on what my relatives and family said to me. “Growing up so tall, you really look like Liao (grandpa’s name).” “You’re exactly messing me around like your gramps,” my grandma also says to me when I tease her. So I realize that in some ways, stories of the deceased become myths that shape our identity and life story.
…..
In Thai, we have a (political) term ‘kuen-ma-hoorn' (คืนหมาหอน - howling dogs’ night) to call a night before elections or eminent political events. Election fraud or abnormal, out-of-rule activities might occur that night. Metaphorically, the term means, according to me, that any bad luck or bad thing could happen one night before some important day in life. Tonight, fortunately, it was no ‘kuen-ma-hoorn.’ Everything went normally as it had been for years: me watching TV with dad while mom giving me a head massage and grandma following news via her tablet in her room. Except that tonight my brother slept over his girlfriend’s, so he wasn’t here. “Without you being here, my TV partner, watching the series is a bit less fun,” dad joked. I smiled.
Series watched tonight: FBI, FBI: Most Wanted and Cleo.
…..
Aug 26
During the day, everything seemed to be normal for our family. I had the same morning routine, dad skipped his morning walk again (because of an absence of his neighbor-walk partner), mom cooked for us, grandma watered plants, and my brother went studying onsite. Two things that ain’t a bit usual were (1) I went say goodbye to the neighbors, and (2) my family and I went to the favorite E-san (Northeastern) joint on Friday (by the way, today’s grilled pork neck was the best I ever ate). No one looked sad or was going to cry even until I finished my dinner (grandma perfectly cooked steamed grouper for us). “Grandma, are you gonna be crying now though I haven’t left the house yet?!,” I teased her a couple times a week ago. “Even so, they’d be tears of joy,” she said, “to see that my grandson is having a good life aboard.”
The last dinner made by grandma before the flight
I hadn’t felt sad or wanted to cry either. Yet, when I hugged grandma before leaving, I was the one whose tears broke out. Damn, jokes really on me. I tried to hold them by talking with my parents and friends on the way to the airport. At the time I left, she didn’t cry. But the following morning, our housemate ratted to me, she did. “They’d be tears of joy,” grandma said.
Seeing many people come to give me a send-off at the airport, I didn’t feel sad anymore but still ‘jai-hai’ which, by the way, may be another normal thing for both who leave and who stay.
Normal day at home
…..
“Me pides que me vaya
Pero ahora que me alejo de ti
Comienza la batalla
Para que no me vaya de aquí…”
- Paris, Morat
……
Aug 27
“What is a fucking French word for sausage?”
I asked myself at 4:30 a.m. (Paris time) when breakfast was served on board. “Oh, ‘saucisson’.” I recalled (which is a wrong word; ‘saucisson’ is dried sausage whereas ‘saucisse’ is a normal one). In fact, earlier that night, I had already briefly warmed up my French with a French-Vietnamese who saw me read Camus’ L’homme révolté (not easy to read despite its modern language). After landing, as I had more chances to parler français, my survival mode got activated too. At CDG, a woman, claiming to be an agent from some governmental association, asked me to donate for handicaps, and I almost did. Suddenly I got my shit together and just ran away. This must be fraud, I thought. Why the fuck goverment organisation would randomly ask foreigners for donnation at the airport? “Vkropffprk Vietnam dfpoasdjfosdjd-or3efoweds,” I heard her shout vaguely.
…..
Having too much time before checking in at the hotel, I moved up my “museum hopping” to begin today instead of tomorrow. I’d already bought a 2-Day Paris Museum Pass and intended to go to six museums, each day 3. A couple years ago, I’d seen works exhibited in Centre Pompidou, Musée d’Orsay or Louvre just from the picture, and now I was going to appreciate all of them for real.
Many contemporary works at Centre Pompidou made me excited, such as Dali’s Guillaume Tell, Picasso’s Femme assise sur un fauteil. Somehow I felt like art movements after World War II are more related to many of us, me included. Nothing is stable, nor fixed. Then I went to the marvelous Sainte-Chapelle, wondering how people in ancient ages could build something elegant despite not having advanced technologies like our time. And the last for today was the Louvre, where I wasn't determined to see Mona Lisa, but oeuvres like Delacroix’s La liberté guidant le peuple and David’s Le Sacre de Napoléon (which ajarn Piriyadit had taught in class two years ago). If you’re standing in front of these paintings, they really make you feel as if you were in there.
The bottom line: the first day in France went well in spite of jetpack, aches at my back and legs, and that woman at the airport. However, wandering around Paris all by myself all day, I felt lonesome.
Was it because I simply was alone or because Paris ain’t designed for loners?
.....
Aug 28
So far, two things I noticed from people in Paris* are: (1) people use traditional earphones more than wireless ones and (2) in tourist attractions and restaurants, the staff will speak English to you anyway even though tu, l’étranger, sais le français.
(*I used this term instead of ‘Parisians’ because some people I saw might not live in Paris.)
…..
I woke up at 8:30, the latest one in, like, a million years (I usually wake up at 7:30). Then I visited four museums and attractions: Musée d’Orsay, Musée de Cluny, Panthéon and Arc de Triomphe, respectively. Not to mention Sorbonne which I walked past on the way to Panthéon. Damn, I just realize this: how the fuck could I did that? Of course those Impressionist/Post-Impressionist pieces impressed me (especially Van Gough’s first Starry Night and Monet’s Essai de figure en plein-air). But to me, the real highlight of the day was La dame à la licorne tapestries shown at Musée de Cluny. In fact, this Middle Age-themed museum was calm, well-exhibited but, compared to others, not that popular. That’s why I liked it even though I want it to be more known to tourists. How ironic I am.
Actually Panthéon and Arc de Triomphe were not in today’s plan because I’d intended to go to Les Invalides, where Napoléon is buried. But it was too late to visit there, so I changed my mind and headed to Panthéon, just a 10-minute walk from Cluny, instead. Damn, this place reminded me of how laïque (secular) state France has been; it was a church and, since la Révolution, converted to the resting residence of important figures in French history. I was surprised, but not that surprised, to see Voltaire’s tombs facing Rousseau’s. I hadn’t known this before but did know that they were rivals. I also visited Hugo’s tomb, Zola’s and Baker’s. The latter was the latest figure to be honored in Panthéon because of her heroic actions during World War II. Standing before these tombs of world icons, I was inspired and became down-to-earth at the same time. No matter how great one could be, his/her end is the same to the others. But what he/she left behind is always there to be built on.
Having visited Zola’s resting place, I had dinner with some beer. Was it the L'Assommoir** effect?
(**L’Assommoir is Zola’s well-known novel. Its Thai title is ‘May-rai-pi-card (เมรัยพิฆาต - Deadly Spirit)’; ‘may-rai’ means spirit/whisky and ‘pi-card’ to kill. One of the most fucking coolest translations of all time.)
…..
Aug 29
Whoa, l’Hôtel des Invalides was really worth visiting. I have to bring the family here this New Year’s holiday.
I was also impressed with the Musée de l’Ordre de la Libération, situated on the left wing of Invalides. The history of World War II and its aftermath are always interesting, and fearsome. Hmm. Despite the horror at that time always haunting us, some leaders really don’t learn the fucking lesson. It seems they’re pushing their countries to be more far-right or despotic. For what? If I don’t get Camus (from L’homme révolté) wrong, the explanation is that the authoritarians try to reason something irrational, hence dictatorship and not revolution.
…..
This afternoon I met Bambi’s best friend Pitcha and her brother Toby. They moved to study here seven years ago; Pitcha was in Grade 10 and Toby in Grade 4 at that time. Damn, speaking of which, we, ma chère jeunesse thaïlandaise, fucking lost that precious time because of Prayut. (Not seven, but eight, fuck).
Anyway, I could see why Pitcha and Bambi are best friends. Unique and friendly, they are really smart (I don’t have the last quality). An evidence of this statement is when Max (I don’t remember his full name, désolé) met us to return Pitcha’s library card and borrowed manga. They were nice and relaxed.
I admit that I didn't quite follow what they three were saying. Learning and SPEAKING FRENCH IN CLASS for years, I was étourdi by the conversation. So I was angry at myself a bit. Should have had more chances to speak French in daily life back in Thailand. But it was really rare, damn it. But my French will be getting better. I hope so.
Pitcha, Toby and I had dinner at Bambino, a jazz bar recommended to Picha and Bambi by a bar owner at Songkhla. “Dinner at Bambino with no Bambi,” Pitcha joked to her best friend. Yep, I wished she had been there too.
I don’t know if after today I could write this regularly.
.....
Continuation in Part II: Days of Being Pete
Experienced and written by Peerachai Pasutan
Illustration by: @kandycraft.kt