It's not Japanese

One night I came back to an empty nest, save for my other half who was enjoying a nap that could have been prolonged had I not suddenly appeared at the door. I was aghast (not a strong word this) because I was really looking forward to see my boys after a long day at work. Apparently, they had joined their aunt for grocery shopping and supposedly dinner. What ever happened to the good old permission sought, permission granted thing, I thought to myself.

I was about to occupy the vacant spot next to my other half when she sprung up and proclaimed that we had 'things' to do. And left in a hurry we did.

After taking care of her 'things,' which mainly involved me driving her from one shop to another, it's finally time for a chow down and we did not take too long to settle on Bangkok Wasabe, a low profile Thai food eatery that's less than two minutes away from home. Yup, you heard me right, it's not a conveyor belt sushi restaurant.

We were the only other couple for a good ten minutes and quickly elevated to the ONLY couple in the restaurant for the entire time, that's how empty the dining room was. If only we understood Thai, we would have known if the waitstaff were talking about us or the weather in the back. Their voices were amplified by the emptiness of the space and lack of piped-in music.

Typical of a Thai outlet, Buddha and elephants were the main decoration theme. I felt somewhat claustrophobic because of the dark interior paint, as well as the split level platform, which effectively reduced the headroom by 1.5 feet. Wanting dinner light and lightning fast, we merely glanced at the menu, ordered salted fish kailan, tom yum kung to share, a single serving of white rice and pad Thai, a favourite and staple order item of mine whenever it's on the menu. The service was swift; the food arrived in no time.

If the crowd is the way to judge on how good the food is in a restaurant, then that measurement is not doing justice to Bangkok Wasabe. I know you'd accuse that we hadn't had enough to come to a landing but I'd counter that if they cook the predominant item on the menu well, you can surely expect the same treatment for the rest.

This was circa 8.45 pm (Apple iPhone 3GS)

The soup was extremely good, murky in texture and slightly orangey in hue. All the rich flavours like lemongrass, ginger flower, scallions and many other wonderful ingredients oozed out gloriously. Even the temperature was right. We almost ordered a second bowl but our sensibility prevailed and stuck to sharing.

On second thought, the bowl did look a little small to share (Apple iPhone 3GS)

My other half always has the hots for kailan of the salted fish kind, sometimes devouring the dish on its own minus the rice so she knows this stuff like the back of her hand. The leafy vegetable that arrived at our table had the word 'fresh' written all over it but still looked too green for it to be called cooked. That's just me but my other half of course knew better: she reached out using her now extended appendage made possible by the chopstick and gladly approved the Bangkok Wasabe brand.

The after effect (Apple iPhone 3GS)

Although I can't quite claim to be in the same vein as my wife when it comes to pad Thai, I have eaten enough of the stir-fried noodle to know that the bean sprouts have to be dropped fresh on top (not even steamed or boiled), the peanuts finely chopped (not whole), jumbo prawns peeled, but with the tails left on and to expect it dry and light bodied. Above all, it should taste spicy sweet or in the opposite order that is sweet spicy. I found the Bangkok Wasabe version to have ticked all the above boxes and pleased that I've discovered a tasty pad Thai near home, just in case I had the cravings...

Promising ourselves to return to the restaurant as PH household one day, we paid the bill and look forward to reunite with our two boys which we hoped would be home by then.

Say thank you please

Why is it very difficult for our drivers to say thanks when they have been given way? I mean I don't expect them to whisper the word because I will not notice that anyway, let alone wind down the window and utter it in a perfectly clear diction but not even a smile of the artificial kind, come on. Eye contact is far and few in between, especially if I'm the one asking for way. They will try their utmost best not to acknowledge my existence, effectively passing the buck to the next driver. And we shall repeat this ten more times.

Sometimes, bus and lorry drivers have better manners on the road.

What ever happened to the good old wave? Five or six years ago, I could still see drivers doing that as a signal of gratitude for allowing them the space caused by their own queue cutting but justified actions or not, nowadays the act seems to have been lost in the carbonous oxide. I get fumed up (pun intended) quickly if I made so much effort to brake or slow down as a courtesy to the offending driver only to get nothing from him, or her.

If opening your mouth or raising your hand or smiling your yellowing teeth prove too physical or perhaps not cool, try flashing your hazard lights for a couple of ticks. It's so easy. Just press the red triangle on your dashboard. One blink means thanks, twice means thank you and if you really felt guilty about that car screeching just so you could squeeze in, try multiple blinks which mean you were not supposed to cut in but had to because of another idiot but thank you so much for the trouble you took.

That's the least anyone could do if all else fails. Drivers in the UK do this and what's more, they normally accompany it with a heartfelt wave.

I hope someone will pick this simple gesture up and include it in the road safety curriculum to be introduced at our schools next year.

In the meantime, why don't you start practising it? It will be quite amusing to see that puzzled face in the rearview mirror.