By the time you are reading this article, we should be done with over-the-top hullabaloo with which the last day of the year is sent off, along with the exasperation of failures, let-downs, and heartbreaks.
And the overtly enthusiastic gusto with which the new year is ushered in, although that same reverie can be recaptured anytime of the year in our infamous Soi 11, which is fast becoming factual for any lane in our good ol’ Sukhumvit, once considered the ‘boonies’.
So, not too long ago, to escape the hungama, we headed off for the forest reserve of Khao Yai with the naïve anticipation of some peace and quiet in the nothingness that has all but disappeared in city life.
Especially Bangkok, where we’re constantly bombarded with din of varying decibels, which incidentally is much more damaging.
Noise pollution is directly related to hearing loss, stress, sleep disturbances, cardiovascular problems, cognitive functions, reduced productivity, and lack of focus, which contributes to accidents.
While on the subject of sound pollution, Japan has a basic cultural understanding that noise is tolerated from 7 AM to 10 PM.
But even then, with specific decibel allowances at different timings for different areas; even factories have applicable laws depending on the machinery’s expected noise emission.
Listening to loud music or talking on the mobile in public places is unheard of.
Violators, even noisy neighbours, can be reported and imposed fines.
I also recall that, before constructing our apartment buildings or making our many homes, we visited every house in the neighbourhood with the contractor, bearing a confectionery gift and an apology letter with the exact duration of the racket expected.
Any objection could have stopped the projects.
Anyhow, rather than reminiscing about what I cannot go back to, let me get back to our ‘memorable’ Khao Yai trip; one we’d hoped to catch up with our own thoughts and contemplate on our impending mortality, and so, to spend ‘quality’ time actually talking and listening to each other.
In all honesty, I think it was all in my head; for hubby dear, being away from home meant uninterrupted mobile time and no wrangling with the grandkids over the TV remote.
Meanwhile, little did we know, when we arrived at the simple wooden two-story hotel, in keeping with the Khao Yai cowboy theme, that neither then, nor ever since, would my two-way convo fantasy materialise.
Nor would that girlish dream of us sitting together, sipping garam-garam chai, listening to the cheery twitter of birds returning home, gazing at the red glow of the setting sun behind the rolling hills.
And later, gaze up and see the bats screeching across the sky, now turned a deep amber blue.
By evening, the empty plot across us had transformed into a rodeo-style, open-air stage for an all-night, basurae mimicry of the likes of Hank Williams and Dolly Parton.
For revellers seated on hay bales, too tipsy to understand that bats would do better!
Lessons learnt.
There’s no escaping the New Year’s Eve racket, but then, I do live in a country voted best to live in for years in a row!
So… (shrug emoji).
We can blame the city life for the noise pollution all we like, but the truth is, we’re addicted; we choose noise over silence and stillness.
Which, if we’d try to instill within ourselves one day, it just might transmute into world peace.