Our landlord thinks we understand Thai. Alot of it.
That said, we think he’s the landlord. We deal mostly with who we think is his daughter, and he simply comes for fixing things. He lives down the street and says hello occasionally.
Yesterday he brought us a big trash can for the outside (perhaps he noticed us putting ours in the neighbors’?), so we let him know that our sink was leaking.
He came by today at 9am, as we were leaving for work, to fix the sink. “Only five minutes,” we think he said. Before he started, Stephen asked him if he wanted to turn the water off. Unfortunately this was in English. A few minutes later, water is coming out from under the sink in gushes and he’s suddenly asking something in Thai and struggling to get out, “Off, off” in English. Oh, my.
He really tries to be nice, to explain things and even talk about interesting things with us. Unfortunately, we don’t understand Thai. He had a Karen bag with him today, so I asked, in Karen, if he spoke Karen language. He simply looked at me, noticing the sounds changed but not sure at all why.
Thus far I know we’ve had a conversation about Libya and Australia, but that’s all I understood in the four days he’s been at our house to fix and install things.