That fruit...
by prudence on 12-Jan-2010
I like durians. Not in large quantities, as they are very rich, and you hear scary stories about people who ate a whole durian and died. But in modest quantities, they are delicious. They are the king of fruit, I'm told (the queen being apparently the rambutan - you'd think there would be some size issues there, but maybe that doesn't matter in the realm of fruit). The king and queen both have Malay names. Durian is "spiky", and rambutan is "hairy".
Our nearest large-scale shopping mall hosts a cafe called "Durian Mpire". This, predictably, is the home of all things pertaining to King Spiky - crepes, shakes, the lot - and we occasionally pop in to enjoy a delicious little durian pudding or waffle.
On account of their odoriferous qualities, however, durians have a bit of a bad rep. Our local buses exclude them specifically - no smoking, no eating or drinking, no littering, and NO DURIANS! Before our local bus station changed its layout and became all sophisticated and air-conditioned, you always used to find a few durians just parked - apparently ownerless - under the information board. It was as if various people had been beguiled into buying a durian, arrived at the bus station, and remembered: "Wait a minute, durians are fructi non grati on these buses - I'd better leave my durian here where some desperate aficionado can avail himself on alighting." I haven't seen the durians in the new bus station, but there is a certain aroma that indicates they're not far away...
I've just been reading an account of the making of the ASEAN Charter, edited by the indefatigable Tommy Koh and his fellow chairpersons. Apparently, after one sticky session, when everyone ended up grumpy with everyone else, and even dinner didn't help to smooth the feathers, the Thai hosts offered some post-prandial "durian therapy" out on the terrace. Maybe that's the explanation of the durians at the bus station - durian therapy for the traveller who's just sat through an interminable journey with some obnoxious teenagers playing their obnoxiously noisy computer games all the way. (Intolerant? Moi?)
So whether you're wrestling with the future shape of ASEAN, or just need a little royalty in your life, go on, have some durian - you know you want to.
Our nearest large-scale shopping mall hosts a cafe called "Durian Mpire". This, predictably, is the home of all things pertaining to King Spiky - crepes, shakes, the lot - and we occasionally pop in to enjoy a delicious little durian pudding or waffle.
On account of their odoriferous qualities, however, durians have a bit of a bad rep. Our local buses exclude them specifically - no smoking, no eating or drinking, no littering, and NO DURIANS! Before our local bus station changed its layout and became all sophisticated and air-conditioned, you always used to find a few durians just parked - apparently ownerless - under the information board. It was as if various people had been beguiled into buying a durian, arrived at the bus station, and remembered: "Wait a minute, durians are fructi non grati on these buses - I'd better leave my durian here where some desperate aficionado can avail himself on alighting." I haven't seen the durians in the new bus station, but there is a certain aroma that indicates they're not far away...
I've just been reading an account of the making of the ASEAN Charter, edited by the indefatigable Tommy Koh and his fellow chairpersons. Apparently, after one sticky session, when everyone ended up grumpy with everyone else, and even dinner didn't help to smooth the feathers, the Thai hosts offered some post-prandial "durian therapy" out on the terrace. Maybe that's the explanation of the durians at the bus station - durian therapy for the traveller who's just sat through an interminable journey with some obnoxious teenagers playing their obnoxiously noisy computer games all the way. (Intolerant? Moi?)
So whether you're wrestling with the future shape of ASEAN, or just need a little royalty in your life, go on, have some durian - you know you want to.