She gatecrashed into our party. A very attractive woman in her late twenties, in harem pants and a tank top breezed into the table next to ours and began to loudly complain about how she was lost. There we were- three Indians in Chiang Mai- a sleepy town in northern Thailand chilling with beers at a canal side restaurant. There were a few other guests but all quiet and unobtrusive. Naturally, we turned to look at this lady and she immediately began to address us. She was with a huge party and they'd split and now she couldn't find them. Blah blah blah. Before we knew it she was telling us her whole life story and sitting at our table and nibbling our starters! She said she was a masseur. Come to Thailand to do an advanced course in body massage. My journalist mind went on overdrive. I fired a barrage of questions at her meanwhile making sure that my purse was firmly tucked into my lap and nowhere near the lady. Blame that on my middle class Indian upbringing and one from mamma's bible of self protection. Never trust strangers, especially if they are good looking masseurs.
She said she was from Holland so I asked her detailed questions about her Dutch neighbourhood. She rattled off names and descriptions with the ease of to-the--manor-born. I grilled her about massage techniques and she almost had me lie prostrate at the restaurant for a demo. The woman was smart.
She looked Indian so I asked her which part of India she was from. She said she was from Surinam and had never visited India. I almost had her there because after that she couldn't tell me anything about Surinam. Then she added that her mother was from that place but she had been born and brought up in Holland. Go figure!
Meanwhile, my friends were sick of my grilling and quite entranced by the beauty. They ordered some more appetizers and wine and the lady condescendingly obliged by savouring them. She also pulled one of my friends to the floor of the restaurant and did an impromptu waltz while the live band played her request. I still believed she was a fraud.
We called for the menu to order dinner and she excused herself to go outside to have a smoke. The smoking area was just five feet away in the open and we could see her there. She was alone for just a couple of minutes. Soon we found her deep in conversation with a woman in monk's clothes and huge tattoos of Buddha on her arms. Just when we thought she'd forgotten all about us and gone for good she came back with the tattooed woman and her stories of incredible Thailand. And so it went.
When we left the restaurant and waived her goodbye- she had hitched a ride from someone conveniently going her way- the three of us were still fighting about who exactly she was. My friends believed she was a lively and gregarious woman who had quite enriched their evening. They even exchanged facebook handles and promised to get in touch. I, the eternal sceptic, wasn't so sure. The woman had spent an entire evening at an expensive restaurant, enjoyed good company and even got a ride home without spending a penny. Could have been pure luck. Could have been smart craft. Believe which you will.
She said she was from Holland so I asked her detailed questions about her Dutch neighbourhood. She rattled off names and descriptions with the ease of to-the--manor-born. I grilled her about massage techniques and she almost had me lie prostrate at the restaurant for a demo. The woman was smart.
She looked Indian so I asked her which part of India she was from. She said she was from Surinam and had never visited India. I almost had her there because after that she couldn't tell me anything about Surinam. Then she added that her mother was from that place but she had been born and brought up in Holland. Go figure!
Meanwhile, my friends were sick of my grilling and quite entranced by the beauty. They ordered some more appetizers and wine and the lady condescendingly obliged by savouring them. She also pulled one of my friends to the floor of the restaurant and did an impromptu waltz while the live band played her request. I still believed she was a fraud.
We called for the menu to order dinner and she excused herself to go outside to have a smoke. The smoking area was just five feet away in the open and we could see her there. She was alone for just a couple of minutes. Soon we found her deep in conversation with a woman in monk's clothes and huge tattoos of Buddha on her arms. Just when we thought she'd forgotten all about us and gone for good she came back with the tattooed woman and her stories of incredible Thailand. And so it went.
When we left the restaurant and waived her goodbye- she had hitched a ride from someone conveniently going her way- the three of us were still fighting about who exactly she was. My friends believed she was a lively and gregarious woman who had quite enriched their evening. They even exchanged facebook handles and promised to get in touch. I, the eternal sceptic, wasn't so sure. The woman had spent an entire evening at an expensive restaurant, enjoyed good company and even got a ride home without spending a penny. Could have been pure luck. Could have been smart craft. Believe which you will.
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