About nothing

Seinfeld was once pitched, by one of its principals, as "a show about nothing"--just the loony day-to-day interactions among a group of friends in New York's Upper West Side.

Plunged from the manic insanity of Pattaya Beach into the calmer waters of Thailand's royal seaside resort, Hua Hin, one must relearn how to make something of nothing.

Oh, there are things to do, for sure. There are night markets, a Victorian-style railway station, temples. Our hotel's lobby commissioned a mural trumpeting the high points of Hua Hin. The dude immortalized in the black statue (center, below) was three-time world flyweight boxing champ Pone Kingpetch, born in Hua Hin in 1935. He no doubt weighed less than I do, but he was mighty. The townspeople are almost as proud of him as they are of King Rama VI, who built many of the place's most elaborate structures in the twenties.

We are a five-minute walk from a glorious beach--clean except for the droppings of the occasional horse (see left, above), which tourists may rent for the day. Tourists may also rent kiteboarding gear that makes them look like great butterflies while carrying it, in full sail, down the beach.

Kiteboarding involves strapping one's feet to a small board and flying oneself like a kite. Watching kiteboarders do triple flips with a full twist, then wipe out in the surf, is part of the entertainment available to those who opt instead to do nothing at the beach.

Fighting a stiff breeze while chatting, this
kiteboarder complained, "It's much more fun when there's a stronger wind than this."
This wiry dude obviously misses the whole point of doing nothing.

There are plenty of beachfront bars and cafes where, while pretending to go for a brisk walk, one can plant oneself and do nothing for awhile. We watched one young lady who was apparently so uncomfortable with this that she fidgeted constantly in her beach chair, adjusting her swimsuit, getting up and down, moving items on her table in the sand.

This man, on the other hand, has mastered the art of doing nothing. Note that he is fast asleep.

But if one interrupts such a naptime, one can pursue another form of doing nothing: chatting amiably with people from other countries. They, too, are so weary of doing nothing that they will eagerly compare notes about their respective crazy governments, weather, tax systems, children, cost of living, work life, and the shortness of their remaining holiday.

Zwodi and Michael, originally from Eritrea but now Norwegian, insisted
 that we join them at their table. to continue doing nothing together.

That glowing object far out on the horizon, a floating Sleeping
Beauty's castle, is actually one of a line of Thai Navy ships anchored
off Hua Hin to afford some protection for the aged and ailing king.
That they are here may mean that he is here as well.

Surprising universals emerge. When I shook Zwodi's hand, I noted that she automatically placed her left hand beneath, and cupping, her elbow. This is apparently an Eritrean gesture, but it is identical to one I learned in Korean taekwondo class.  Accompanied by a respectful bow, a handshake with the other hand cuppng the elbow symbolizes "supporting the enormous weight of our friendship." It is a lovely and gracious gesture.








One can even do nothing in what passes as a red-light district in Hua Hin. Mind you, because this is the town where the royal family comes to relax, and thus the equivalent of Camp David, Kennebunkport, or Boca Grande, Hua Hin is more reserved and family filled, and has a more visible police presence than Pattaya. The Thai Navy even lines up and patrols the shoreline when the king's in the house.

In the small red-light district, an area bracketed by Selakam Road and Soi Bintabaht, one can pass time with even more farang travelers.

Brandon, accompanied by his wife Phil (Philomena), hails from Cork, where he studied and taught history at university. He summered for three years as a Cape Cod busboy at the Falmouth Inn. He is thus one of few people outside Boston who recognizes the name of the infamous South Boston gangster James ("Whitey") Bulger, Jack Nicholson's character in The Departed.  While working at the inn, Brandon's gift for Irish blarney helped him befriend Boston Patriots fullback Jim Nance and Red Sox legend Tony Conigliaro ("Tony C"). He was there at Falmouth the summer Ted Kennedy drove his Olds off a bridge on Chappaquiddick Island, leaving his paramour inside. We later ran into Brandon and Phil continuing to do nothing on the beach.

And bar girls are, almost by definition, expert at the art of doing nothing. Their time is so unoccupied, especially here in staid Hua Hin, that they have advanced far beyond old-fashioned time-passing games such as dice, Quando, and Connect 4.  My new friend Arthittaya has a whole iPad full of games.