|
By Marie Moon
I am awake in Lumpini Park. It is just after 6am and the park is
alive. A crisp morning breeze capers through the trees, leaping
from bough to bough to blossom before pirouetting off to cool some
other pocket of the park. A significant proportion of Bangkok's
feathered inhabitants flock to the lake, preening while gliding
atop a smooth, dark surface. A duck provides amusement for a troupe
of young Thai children, its hollow quacks and tailfeather shaking,
fuelling a melodic stream of cheeky giggles.
The wrought iron arches and brick fencing containing the park separate
two worlds and although the other world of colossal shopping centres,
expressways and cosmopolitanism has definite appeal, right now I
choose the world that Lumpini Park lays at my feet. The peace and
tranquility of the park is attractive at any time of day but the
muse of cultural idiosyncrasies displayed every morning offers an
absorbing way of getting a little exercise.
The large Chinese community in Bangkok contributes greatly to the
ambience of the park. Chinese breakfast treats line the entrance,
hoping to grab the attention of post-exercise hunger pangs. Dim
sum features interspersed with chicken and rice, rice soup, fried
scones and some other more exotic selections. Health conscious Chinese
people visit the park to get fresh blends of noxious herbal concoctions
believed to be powerful health tonics. Today I pass on all of the
above, choosing simply to feast my eyes.
At a casual glance, the park appears normal; joggers, walkers,
power-walkers, karaoke singers! It is a logical evolution of entertainment
if you think about it. Gone are the days of jogging around an asphalt
path with only the sounds of thudding feet and pounding heart to
fill the mind. To heighten the ho-lo effect of any fitness regime
surely singing could qualify as a means of recovery breathing. As
I rest under a tree, I witness at least three joggers showing off
their athletic and vocal prowess.
An aerobics class is underway on an opening of grass now streaked
and worn under the heavy feet of grapevines and knee-lifts. Oblivious
to the deafening bass-beat of aerobic proportions are a group of
elderly tai-chi practitioners. Statuesque and elegant they centre
their energy with liquid movements. In the farther distance, I can
see a group of people stretching, bending and flexing in what can
only be a form of yoga.
|
|
 |
Dawdling around the lake and incessantly humming the mindless lyrics
of the aerobics soundtrack, my monologue is broken by an oddly pitched
vocal strain. I have heard it before, the highs and lows of the
song bring goosebumps surging over my skin. Chinese opera is not
for everyone but something about it has always fascinated me. Their
seemingly effortless actions defy the extreme notes that they manage
to conjure. This group of elderly Chinese people is jolly and gestural,
making jokes and telling stories with great pantomime between songs,
but while someone is singing they devout their attention to the
serenade, awaiting the opportunity to join in unison.
Adding another theatrical dimension to the park, a small niche
of the wooded area is occupied by what appears to be a group of
amateur players rehearsing a dramatic production. They seem to have
a captivated audience but the director's penchant for perfection
in one scene sees people straying back to their activity of choice.
The wooded areas are dotted with people jogging, walking, skipping,
striding, stretching, limping, sitting, lying and sleeping under
the shade of a thick canopy. It is an amusing scene, each person
wearing a different expression from health-conscious determination,
to coordination bewilderment, to sheer delight.
Circling back toward the main entrance I come upon a ballroom dancing
class midway through a polka. I am impressed with the agility of
the dancers at this hour of day and by the depth of their concentration;
most couples wear brows furrowed in seriousness except for a few
older women joining in for the laugh. The classical music has another
karaoke box to compete with, neither proprietor seeming to worry
about the other.
This musical joust is common in Thailand and does not interfere
with a group of people doing interesting things with fans. The participants
are of various ages ranging all the way down to young children and
they appear to be doing a form of tai chi that incorporates a small
fold-up fan. The movements are slow up to a point when the fan is
quickly snapped open to great sound effect. Some movements later
the fan is snapped back into folds and the routine moves on. I find
this enthralling; the graceful motions, the woosh of the opening
fan and the snap back has me mesmerized.
I lean back, accepting the support of a thick tree trunk and study
the art. I am thinking that I must find out what this fan dance
is all about. Perhaps I'll go and speak to them when they are finished,
that is if my heavy eyes do not transcend into a delightful….little…snooze.
Awake, again, in Lumpini Park and my stomach tells me it is breakfast
time. The enigma of the fan dance slipped away in a dream to be
answered another day but the kaleidoscope of cultural colour I have
witnessed this morning will be with me forever.
|
