I promised it... here it is. A tour of Baby Rasta (which I believe I called baby Reggae in my last post). The whole place is built around a VW Camper Van frontage and backs into a series of terraces and platforms all at different heights and angles. Most of the building is done with what appears to found or drift wood. I'm sure if I tried to build something like this in such an organic way it would crumble and tumble and generally be a mess. But Bee takes care of the place on a daily basis, and despite the occasional wobble when folk walk nearby, it's solid as anything. I've seen places like this all over Thailand, and I'm sure it's not new to many of you, but this is a cracking example of it - I admire the initiative and creativity, the steady pace at which it grows, like the living trees it's struts and platforms so recently were.
You'll notice that there's no shutters on the front, no doors to lock and no windows to close. I asked Om if they ever had problems with stealing and he shrugged a no as if it was a peculiar question. If someone was inclined they could walk in off the street at 4am and take everything from the bar. But it doesn't happen. I had many conversations about the 'social contract' in Bhutan, though not using that term. It's normal for family to have concerns, especially parents when their son goes to the other side of the world and lives in a strange culture and swims with the unknown. But it's a simple fact - the social contract is stronger here than it is at home. I can't imagine anybody sleeping soundly in Bristol when their bar was open to the street and everything in it accessible to anybody passing by. It's irritating when people go 'travelling' and bang on about how much better life is in the place they happen to be in, but this is not subjective - would you sleep soundly in Bristol with your business open to the world. I'm sure it's an 'Absolutely Not!' from everybody. In which case, either the people here are more civilised than we are in at least one aspect or... the protection rackets are more sophisticated. I guess we'll never know.
It's nice to live with hardly a straight line around you. That's one thing I noticed. And its nice to be cultivating mindfulness in ordinary daily movements. Going to the toilet requires descending steps that are made from branches - not even planks - which means you have to take care with each step. This is a good thing. You move slower (might be the reggae in the background), and you take more care.
Last night I took a few people down to the platform beneath my room, which I usually have all to myself, to play some songs after the bar had closed. There was Pau, from Barcelona, the kind of guy who can play anything, or can work it out in real time with few enough mistakes for it to be ok (a rare breed indeed) and Stella, a striking Malaysian-Swiss woman who had all the men falling over themselves to get closer and sang with a sultry and soulful French quality. Arvid swung in the hammock. A silent Romanian lay on his back nearby, as did Vincent, a hanger-on of Stella with brooding good looks but not a lot to say or do with them (I didn't see him speak once in 2 nights). When Vincent decided to leave, I offered to help with a torch and he politely refused, but getting from the back porch to the VW in the dark is like navigating an woodland obstacle course because nothing is straight and the floor is not always how you expect it to be - flat. So I'm glad I thought to offer.
We finished up at a slightly alarming 4am, 3-part harmonising on anything from Beatles to Coen to Waits and had a fabulous time. I'll probably never see Pau or Stella again. Such is life. My plan to hole myself up in The Atlanta for a month now seems a bit like, well, throwing myself out of paradise and into prison. Who comes to South East Asia and locks themselves away for a month? Weirdos and crazies. And me.
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