No, twas not the great boxer, nor was he formerly named Cassius Clay. He was a Thai fisherman. I was strolling on the pristine beach of white sand in Ao Nang, Thailand when I came across a man cleaning his nets. He introduced himself as Mohammed Ali. I smirked and shook his calloused hand. Thus a friendship was forged.
We wandered out in the sea and fished together for the next hour. He strung out his net and smoked 14.3 cigarretes as we talked. Mr. Ali knows roughly 52 English words, so our conversation was a wee bit limited and repetitious, but thankfully a smile needs no translation. After catching maybe 11 little fish and a few unlucky prawn and crabs he invited me to dinner at his place. I said, "Giddiup!"
So Mohammed Ali picked up Matt and I on the beach on his little motorcycle as we sped off to his little cement block house with the tin roof. The floor was clean and Mama (Mrs. Ali) was so happy to have us as guests I think she squeezed my butt more than once.
They brought out a huge tray of food: pineapple chicken, spicy squid, some sort of mollusk or mussle, and the fish that were swimming innocently a few hours ago. It was a fantastic meal but their hospitality and love for complete strangers is what blew me away. Our plates were never bare for more than 2 seconds and our glasses were always filled to the brim with green Fanta.
Although the conversation was more like sign language, being in their house with these poor people who offered us all they have while their friend Abraham (who looked like a Thai version of Crazy Horse) and their pot-smoking son Ishmael was a meal that I will never forget.
- m -
P.S. - A few more days till the biggest game of all time! We inquired in town today about a pub that would show the game at 7am ... we'll find a way to root for the Green and Gold!
P.P.S. - It seems like a year ago, but I did not throw up on the bus ride to Laos, the fireworks took place in the taxi on the way to the bus station. Just thought you should know...
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