Siam and Laos, as Seen by Our American Missionaries

by Unknown

Many smaller craft are market-boats, with fruits and vegetables for sale. Notice some of the fruits as they pass. That one nearly as large as a child’s head and resembling a huge orange is the shaddock or pomelow. This large one, which smells so very disagreeably, and which is so completely encased in spines as if to say, “Touch me not!” is the far-famed durian, which the natives consider the king of fruits. It weighs from five to ten pounds. This small round mahogany-colored fruit is the delicious mangosteen—​that golden one, the luscious mango. Then there are the rich custard-apple, the refreshing orange, the blushing rhambutan, the pineapple, the banana, etc.

You see the flags of many different nations flying from the ships, of which none are more beautiful than the “star-spangled banner” of our native land. There are also scores of steam-yachts on the rivers of Siam now, owned by the natives, but when I first came here there was not one to be seen. You ask what these strange-looking craft, moored by immense ratan cables, are? They are Chinese junks, and it would be hard to tell where the Chinese obtained their model. The wonder is that such clumsy, unshapely, unsightly things can be made to traverse the sea. And the glowing colors in which they are painted, red always predominating! And don’t overlook the large eye painted on each bow. The Chinese say, “No got eye, how can see?”

But you must not get so much interested in the boats and the fruits as not to notice the homes of this people. Many of the princes and nobles now have fine houses handsomely furnished. The missionaries, foreign consuls, merchants and wealthy Chinese have good, substantial dwellings. The homes of the common people, you see, are small, of one story, and thatched with the leaves of the attap palm. Most of them are neither painted nor whitewashed. Those upon the land are placed on posts six feet high, and the sides of many of them are made of bamboos split and woven together, forming a kind of basket-work.

But thousands of the people live in floating houses, which you have observed lining both banks of the river. Notice them particularly now, for they are one of the peculiarities of this Eastern city. They are but one story high, you see, and built of boards and placed on rafts of large bamboos, which rise and fall with the tide, and hence are called floating houses. These rafts must be renewed every two or three years. The houses are kept in their place by large posts on each side driven deep into the muddy bed of the river. They do sometimes, however, get detached from their moorings, though fastened to them by rings of ratan, and float up or down the river with the tide. These houses have some advantages over all others, for if neighbors are disagreeable or a fire breaks out the occupants have only to move off with the tide, house, furniture and all, to some other spot.

FLOATING STORES AT BANGKOK.

You will observe that many of them are open in front with a veranda, and are shops. This one seems to have a variety, and we will stop a few moments. You perceive there are no showcases, but the smaller and more fanciful articles are displayed on these shelves, arranged one above another, like a flower-stand, to the height of some three feet. Are you waiting for the shopkeeper? The personage seated on the floor by the side of his goods is none other than he. He seems quite indifferent about selling, but look about and see what of all this mixed medley you will purchase. There, in the way of dry goods, are bleached and unbleached and turkey-red muslins, Siamese waist-cloths and some fading calicoes. Here are a few boxes of tea, some native umbrellas, a bunch of peacock-feathers, tigers’ skins and tigers’ bones, piles of coarse crockery, pieces of matting, etc. There are also pretty little brown teapots and tiny cups, all of which at home would be considered toys for children, but, I assure you, they are as large as any used by the tea-drinkers of this country. There is a set now on a little tray behind you that are in daily use. Ah! you want to purchase a set with the tray, do you? Well, you have made a very good selection, but the shopman may not fancy your flat silver coins, though they are fast being introduced. Make your selection and I will pay your bills. I have yet to show you the money of the country. See! a stamped silver bullet, with a small notch cut out of one side. What does it remind you of? I do not wonder you smile. This largest piece is a tical, and is worth sixty cents; this next size is a salung, or fifteen cents; this smallest a fuang, or seven and a half cents. If I had come shopping with you a few years ago, and you had wanted any smaller change, I should have used cowrie-shells, of which it took one thousand to equal a dime. The shopman is paid, and now with the Siamese good-bye, Chah! lah! pi kaun, we must move on. Do not think these are the only shopping-places in the city, for besides several fine foreign stores we might, if we had time, go up into the Chinese bazaar, which is about a mile long. We should find there tailors, blacksmiths, druggists, goldsmiths, idol-makers, dyers, etc.

We are just passing a floating-house restaurant. We will move slowly and see what they have—​pork steaks, ducks, fowls, hot rice and curry, dried fish and vegetables. Shall we call? No? Well, then, we will take our own lunch that we have brought with us, and, refreshed by it, be ready to visit a royal temple which we shall soon reach.

Notice this large canal on our right, for it extends entirely around the city proper, following the line of the city-wall, which is five miles in circumference, till it meets the river again.