Christmas Break Kick Off

The commercialization that is choking the life out of the Christmas spirit in America is all that exists of the holiday here in Thailand.  Makes sense, considering this is a Buddhist culture.  However, when I was informed that I would have a Christmas break, though shocked, I knew it was time to start planning my first long trip out of Phuket.  The possibilities are endless thanks to the close proximity and the cheap flights to so many destinations, but because I had yet to go anywhere other than Koh Phi Phi in Thailand, exploring my new country seemed the best thing to do.

After living in a big city for the last six years, going to Bangkok hasn't exactly been at the top of my list, but you gotta go, you know?  This was part of the original plan, to spend a couple days in Thailand's second capital, but due to the political unrest and protests that have been taking place, Carey and I decided, maybe another time would be better.  We both agreed that we would really like to spend a good chunk of time in Chiang Mai.  We also knew we wanted to end our trip on a quiet island, lying on the beach, sipping frosty cocktails, joining rowdy bars as we wished.  Although we were not able to find a resort within our budget on the first few islands we were considering due to the New Year holiday rates, we "settled" on Koh Samui because everyone has given it such rave reviews.

Naturally, the final week leading up to break was unusual.  The Friday before leaving on holiday, there was a Christmas party at school.  Kids dress up in Christmas costumes, like Halloween Part Deux, over here and it is bizarre and just a smidge creepy.  Between the saggy too bright Santa costumes, and the little girls dressed up in skimpy crushed velvet dresses with white feathery lined hems, high heels, and make up, I wasn't sure what to make of it all.  The kids had a great time stuffing their faces full of whatever treat the parents brought in to try to out do the next parent.  They also exchanged gifts at random draw.  A few kids didn't follow the protocol I had set up earlier in the week, which pretty much boiled down to not being thankful for the gift they received and having a meltdown.  One kid was so insistent that he didn't want his gift that I put it in with the gifts the school donated to an orphanage that houses children who have parents serving prison time.

Carey and I had to return our scooters before we left and decided to have some dinner in Phuket Town.  We were approached by a strange (read drunk), middle aged British man who'd been living in Thailand for about 20 years.  Because we weren't on his level, he was sure we needed to relax.  I'll give him this, he bought us a round of drinks.  Needless to say, we felt the urge to leave directly following our meal.  By chance, we passed a Blues bar that we'd seen the first week we moved to Phuket.  A lot of places don't open until a good bit later, so we'd never seen the inside of the bar, let alone anyone in it with the lights on, playing any music.  We stopped, the first customers of the evening, to have a beer.  Patrick Chua, a Singapore native, runs the place.  Rockin' Angels is the only Blues bar in Phuket.  It has been there since 2004 when Patrick decided he just couldn't live without music at the center of his world anymore, he had previously run a place in Singapore.  He has quite a history, including doing some fashion work with some high profile folks.  He mentioned one of my favorite politicians of all time, Mr. Bill Clinton.  We learned all this when Patrick came over to chat with Carey and me and the gentleman who had been playing a little with him when we arrived.  I stopped the other gentleman on his way out because he was wearing an Illinois shirt.  He went to Columbia University, and according to Patrick is a very successful and very wealthy local architecture.  It seemed as though music is Patrick's first passion, and helping others fulfill their dreams of playing music is his second.  He told us about a guy who showed up while he was still talking to us that came to Patrick a couple years ago and told him he'd always wanted to be in a band.  Because he's an older fellow, Patrick decided he could teach him how to bang a drum, "He's not a great musician, but he loves it, and who am I to stand in the way of a man living out his dream?"  A 19 year old girl showed up with her bass.  The daughter of a friend, about four years ago, her parents had had enough.  She was getting into trouble at school, causing problems at home, they were at their wits end.  Patrick's family took her in.  He taught her how to play the bass.  It was hard to decide who was better - the young girl or Patrick.  She sang everything from Tina Turner to Amy Winehouse whilst strumming the bass.  Whaaaaaaat?  All in all it was a really fantastic evening and what started out as, "let's have a beer and listen to a bit of music" turned into several beers, befriending the owner, making a new gal pal, chatting with some guy from Seattle, another from Switzerland, and another from Romania.  We called Nok, our guy to come pick us up and get us home.

If this were to be any indication of what the trip would be like, we were both feeling pretty good about the next 10 days.

Phuket/Phi Phi Island Partay

I've officially entered the last year of my 20's.

I'm letting that one sink in…

Oddly, I think i'm okay with it.  The last time I was in a new place for a birthday was six years ago.  I'd moved to Chicago five months prior, started school four months prior, and hadn't made much of a life for myself.  I still managed to have a fairly good time.  Turns out i'd met another person in the small circle of friends supplied by the restaurant that employed my then roommate (and dear friend, Joseph), who also had a birthday on December 5th.  So there was a gathering of people, some who I knew from school, a few from the restaurant i'd just started working at, and then a whole bunch of people I didn't really know but wished me happy birthday and bought me shots.  How lovely of new friends to show up though, and for another new friend to share his celebration with me.

I have now been in Thailand for about three months.  The kindness shown to me by the people who have begun to create my circle of friends here was overwhelming.  In Thailand, I share my birthday with the king.  This is really awesome because he's kind of a big deal here, so we had a national holiday.  Since i've always shared my birthday with someone, this might have even made things a tad easier.  Thanks to the national holiday, there was no school on Thursday.  This, of course, meant dinner and drinks for me and Carey Wednesday night.  Turns out others wanted to join to celebrate with me.  Carey was so lovely to set things up and take care of everything.

One of the young women I work with also had a birthday last week on the fourth, so we shared our time together Wednesday.  We all ate dinner at The Natural Restaurant in Phuket Town.  A hidden gem, if i've ever seen one.  You can't tell from the side soi (street) the entrance sits on that it's three stories high and that entering feels like stepping into a rain forest.  It is so gorgeous and tranquil and the food is delicious.  It was originally recommended to Carey by an Australian man who she bumped into in a coffee shop.  He owns and runs the cafe, which is delicious, so we figured he must not be far off the mark.  We had a great meal the first time, but hadn't been back since moving south to Chalong.  I picked it for my birthday dinner.  Not only did nine people show up, but most of them accompanied me and Carey to Roxy Bar for a night of trivia and more beverages.  Though we didn't have any interest originally, we decided going to Patong might not be so bad.  Never made it.  Not because we drank like underage college kids, but because we were abandoned by the women we ran into and hung out with from Carey's school at the bar after dinner.  In hindsight, it probably wasn't such a bad thing.  Between the money spent and the residual physical side effects that accompany a night in Patong, we probably came out on top in this category.  Our taxi home was most certainly a win.  We met a lovely young gentleman (Nok - he gave us his card when he dropped us off and said to call him "any of the times") who shared with us that he learned English by listening to American music.  We sang Mariah, Whitney, Adele, Boyz II Men, the list goes on… a taxi sing along, with him until he pulled up outside of our apartment building.  Can't speak for both me and Carey, but I know i'm excited to see Nok again.  I decided, if I can find somewhere here to do it, that i'll purchase proper business cards for him.  He has small cut up pieces of paper handwritten with his information.  So lovely.  He was just such a treat and so professional and kind, obviously fun, so I think he deserves it.  The holidays are upon us.

On Saturday morning, bright and early, Carey and I met a group of 13 people at Ratsada Pier to catch a ferry to Koh Phi Phi Island.  We were there before everyone else, not shocking, so we grabbed fresh fruit smoothies and hung out.  It took about an hour and a half to get across the water.  Dramamine on the way back made things much more bearable.  At the end of the ride, they slow down the boat and take you around the island so you can see it in all its beauty.

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The Dynamic Duo on the ferry.

Brendan, my favorite Aussie mate, blew my mind with a techy trick here.

 

It was really hard to know when to take out the camera because everything just looks so beautiful.  The minute you put your camera away you feel like you need to get it out again.  In an attempt to avoid a repeat of my trip to San Francisco though, I kept the snapping to a minimum.  As far as sheer size goes, the left picture can give you an idea.  The one on the right shows how the vegetation just grows, seemingly just out of the rock.  Incredible stuff.  Such beauty.

I was surprised to see how the island was all laid out because I assumed everything would be spacious and quiet.  On the contrary, the village that you walk through to get to the beach is a tiny maze like place where no motorized vehicles are allowed (actually none anywhere on the island), so locals are carefully plodding through on bikes.  Shops, food, bars galore.  If you get split up from your group, just keep walking, you will inevitably run into them again.  On a few occasions I was so shocked to run into someone I had just spoken with 20 steps behind.

These long boats will never get old.  Next time we take an island trip, we'll get on one and go snorkeling.  This trip was all about relaxation and no agendas.

Other than when I ate meals and slept, my time was spent on this gorgeous beach that I could see from my tiny, minimal hostel room.  It was private, kind of quiet, air conditioned, and reasonably clean.  The price was good, the shower worked, and it was right in the thick of everything.  If I could describe for you the blues and greens of the water, I would.  Just think of every shade and hue of blue and green that you've ever seen and put them all together.  Saturday the shallower parts were a bit murkier, though I didn't realize that until Sunday when I could see down to my toes when the water came up over my knees.

I wish the full beauty of this man's abs was more clear.  The group decided he must get a different farang (foreign) girl every night.  Even the guys admitted he was super good looking.

After dinner Saturday night, we stopped at the first fire show we came to because all the beachfront bars have them.  Also, the man in red shorts (pictured in the first fire picture) was gorgeous and svelte, so why would we leave?

People drink excessively and then also play with the fire.  Flaming limbo, jump rope, ring jumping, the list goes on.  Carey is pictured here, though she had less to drink than anyone else on that beach, I guarantee it.  

She did win me a bucket.. that I didn't drink because naturally it was terrible.  But the important part is she let me push her into getting up there and then won me a prize for kicking ass.  Happy birthday, to me.

That is an audience member hurling his body through the air and fire.  This is a liability waiting to happen in America, thus you must go to Thailand to see or compete in this bizarre show of manliness.  Watching guys insist the Thai fire throwers lift the hoop even higher was almost has entertaining as picking my nose.

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Just take some time to enjoy the abs, if you can see them.  Whew.  There are more videos, but they just take far too long to load, so i'll leave you with this.  

To clarify, that burning sign reads "Woody Sexy Night Party."  We were at a bar on the beach called Woody's.  This sign begged me to drink like an underaged college student.  So I did.  I'm too old for that, I gotta say.  All in all, it was a great time.  I got to know some friends better and they feel even more like friends.  I got to experience a different place, finally got my first post card for my book, bought a beautiful (cheap) sarong, celebrated with one of the best friends i've ever had, and welcomed the final year of my 20's.  

If 29 is anything like 28 was, i'm in for a wild ride.  

Muay Thai

Last weekend, a colleague of Carey's invited us along to a Muay Thai Fight night.  Having no idea what to expect, but knowing I absolutely wanted to go, left me feeling anxious.  When we got out of the car at the arena, you could hear the music pumping, you could see the people standing to the side, waiting for the battles to begin.  To be clear, i've never been to any fight.  The closest i've gotten is a pay per view party with my brother's frat brothers when De La Hoya was defeated by Mayweather by a split decision.  I was crushed because prior to that fight, there were several late nights with dad where I felt an unexpected inclination toward De La Hoya.  I didn't even know who the guy was the first time I watched him, but I could see the fire in his eyes and I just thought, "this guy is the real deal."

Per usual in Thailand, the arena was an open air facility.  There was a small concession stand just before you walked into the seating around the ring where they were selling water and beer.  I snagged a couple and Carey's colleague Bobby showed us where the best available seats in the house were.  Second row back from the ring.  The first fight was between two young boys, maybe eight or nine.  Their focus was evident and I never saw an ounce of concern or fear.  They've probably been training for this their whole lives and chances are, this wasn't their first rodeo.  They were incredibly small, barely older than the kids I teach every day.  With every kick and punch one of them landed, I cringed. I just hoped they'd get through the five rounds without any blood.  The next fight was another pair of young boys, maybe a year or two older than the first, but still younger than I can ever imagine any boy being prepared to take a hit knowingly.  On and on the fights went and the men got older, bigger, stronger, faster.  There was one fight between two women.  The final fight was between two farangs (white guys).

What struck me most about this event was the civility.  Each fighter stepped into the ring.  Music (from the live "band") begin and, from their respective corner, they would begin a walk around the ring with one hand touching the highest rope.  They would then kneel in each corner and wai, or bow their head in what looked to be prayer.  They continued all the way around the ring, simultaneously, until they ended up back at their starting point.  I found out this routine was to ward off evil spirits that could cause damage to either fighter.  The two would then step to the middle of the ring where they would get down on their knees.  The music would change, and they would both begin a series of movements, each unique to the person presenting them.  They would stand and continue their movements, again around the ring.  This is in honor of the coach who has been training them.  Before the fight begins, the fighters also hug.  They battle it out for five rounds.  From what I could gather from Bobby (who spent the majority of the night going to the gambling mats), points are earned not just by hits landed or blocked, but also how the fighter carries himself.  The less affected they seem, the better.  The crowd helps as well.  Naturally, the longer the fight goes on and the more bets are placed, the more involved they all get.  When your fighter lands a hit, you yell "hey!"  There were a few instances of "Hey!  Hey!  Hey!  Hey!"  You can't help but get into it, even if you haven't bet or you're still cringing each time someone gets nailed.  Between the fourth and fifth round, each fighter goes to the opposite corner and their opponent's team cares for the fighter, giving him water and prepping him for the final round.  After the fight ends, the fighters hug again.  I caught myself thinking several times how lovely it all was, how traditional and respectful.  

I didn't place any bets.  I did see some blood.  I had some beers.  I met some new people.  It was a really fun night and I look forward to the next one.

They Are Called Private Parts for a Reason

This week at school ran a bit more smoothly.  If I set Friday aside as an example of how well the week went, i'd be full of shit though.  My kids were maniacs, mentalists as my British colleagues like to say.  I sat in on their computer class (my break) per a mother's request due to her concern that her kid isn't getting it.  I took my computer with me and sat in the back with Momo (said student) and helped as needed.  My back row seat was the perfect place to observe.  Most of the kids, in their frenzied excitement to get their grubby paws on a keyboard, didn't notice that I never left the computer room.  Dummies.  What I witnessed was utterly embarrassing.  Talking over the computer teacher, not following directions, interrupting, being heathens.  After the class ended and the computer teacher told my students to line up, I walked to the front of the classroom.  Deer in headlights.  Yeah, I got you, ya jerks.  After the computer teacher "dismissed" them from class I told them not to move.  "Get in two straight lines."  I don't play around.  I asked them, "Do you behave like this every Friday in computer class."  Silence.  That's what I thought.  I turned to the computer teacher, and asked him.  He said they often behave this way and some of the other classes do as well.  I assured him that things would be changing.  I turned to my kids and told them they embarrassed me and promised that if they couldn't do better next Friday there would be no more computer class (I probably can't actually do that, and frankly wouldn't, because it's an hour I don't normally have to be around them.. but what do they know, though?).

This weekend is Loy Krathong, its a "romantic holiday" and a time to pay respects to the water spirits or Water Goddess.  It takes place on the full moon in November.  People create intricate krathongs out of a slice of a banana tree trunk (think round disc, a couple inches thick), banana leaves folded, flowers, candles, incense.  Sometimes people place a coin, as an offering to the water spirits, onto the float.  Others will add some nail clippings or strands of hair to get rid of negative thoughts for the coming year.  You then take your krathong to any body of water on Sunday night to release it.  If it floats away, you will have good luck.  If it comes back or doesn't float away, basically you're screwed for a year.  Great.  I read somewhere that this day also marks the end of rain season, we'll see about that.  If you don't make your own krathong, there are vendors selling them around water.  You can also buy lanterns for good luck in love for the next year.  I share this wealth of knowledge, because the afternoon was spent helping kids make krathongs and I wanted to also share some pictures.  They use little straight pins to attach beans, flowers, little round berries, and lettuce or banana leaves.

Some of them did a better job than others, but when it was all said and done, it's pretty amazing that they can make these things.  Prior to yesterday, I never would have thought giving six year olds a box of straight pins would have been a good idea.  They were super proud of themselves,

"Teacher, will you snap me?"    

"Teacher, photo?"  

"Picture, teacher?"

That is powder on their faces.  They put that on after they shower or get wet in Thailand.  I have invested in some myself, and let me tell you, it's life changing.  I think I finally understand why men love Gold Bond powder so much.  

Swimming class yesterday was also mortifying from start to finish.  Swimming is after lunch and math class.  These kids can't wait to be in their swimming clothes and they cannot understand why I don't let them sit in math class in only their swim suits.  No, of course it's not that big of a deal, but it's hard enough getting anything done in that hour, so I figure if they still have their regular shirts and pants on, it gives the illusion of learning.  Plus, I said no the first Friday I spent with them, so I can't change my mind now just because they try to take their pants off every Friday after lunch.  On this particularly wild day, math class ended and total mayhem struck.  I have never seen my kids act like idiots before, but that's exactly what they were doing.  I mean, they turned into apes, rolling around on the floor, standing on chairs, throwing things around the room.  For awhile I just sat there and watched.  I can't lie, it was amusing.  One student walked over to me and asked what I was doing.  I replied, "I'm not swimming today, so I don't care if we make it."  That student spread the word and they slowly noticed that their antics weren't getting them to the water.  They all sat in their seats like semi respectable human beings and waited to be dismissed to line up outside the classroom, as we do each time we leave.  After the last group was permitted to join the rest of the class, I turned off the lights, grabbed my keys and water bottle, locked the door and turned around to find something that I absolutely never could have prepared myself to see.  One of the smartest kids in my class had his hands in the air, swim shorts pulled down just enough, with his hips swinging and his wiener just flopping around.  Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.  You think you've seen it all and then you find one of your first graders swinging his johnson around for all of the world to see.  I shouldn't have raised my voice and made any deal about it, but I was so caught off guard.  I made the kid walk with me on the way to swimming so we could discuss what "private" parts means.  He'll probably have some weird sexual issue when he gets older because his first grade teacher from America, the land where sexuality is shameful, perpetuated those beliefs in Thailand the day he whipped out his penis in line before swimming because some other kid did it first but didn't get caught.  

They were morons all through their swimming lesson as well, but at the end of the day, they started giving peace offerings, starting with my little exhibitionist.  "Teacher Mac, I have this for you."  Cool, tell your mom I said thank you for sending way more flowers than you actually needed.

Teaching in Thailand

The weekend went by way too quickly, which is always fascinating when you don't do much.  I know, I know.  I live in Thailand, what do I mean I didn't "do much?"  This week I got through some sinus stuff.  Apparently slinging drinks across bars meant that I was able to build up immunity against adult germs and creepy men, but not against small children germs.  They sneeze and cough and lick their fingers.  Oh, and want to touch you all the time.  Hugs, high fives (that's my fault), open this, hold that, breathing on you, close talking, the list goes on.  I love kids.  So after dealing with further securing the well being of my immune system and throwing in a few 90 minute yoga classes directly after school, sitting on the porch with my friend and having some beers, a small brunch with new work friends, and getting ready for my week were just what the doctor ordered.

It was brought to my attention that I haven't yet shared much about my school or my job, how my day goes.  Because not much happened this weekend, so there isn't much to share on that front, and i've gotten through a few weeks of school now here it comes…

I'm required to clock in by 7:45 every morning.  In a land where efficiency is lacking and there is an overwhelming sense of "just relax," the irony of a fingerprint sign-in is not lost on me.  I also sign out at the end of my day with my index finger.  I walk across a massive campus and into the madness.  Some kids come in unaccompanied, my first graders are generally accompanied by a mom or dad.  Essentially, i'm forced into conducting 15 mini-one minute parent/teacher conferences every morning and sometimes afternoon.  Parents want to know how their child is doing with talking, reading, math, behaving, the project they brought yesterday.  Some of the parents speak very strong English, others do not.  They are all lovely people and it is nice to see involvement.  Unfortunately, there are several who fall at each end of the spectrum. On the one hand, i've got parents who will complete an entire Family Tree poster for their kid, and on the other hand i've got a parent who has been told repeatedly their kid is falling behind and they just don't seem to care.

At 8:00, the morning assembly begins.  All of the students get themselves to their respective spot on the floor with their class.  The foreign teachers and the Thai teachers rotate responsibility for "running the assembly."  Basically, this means when the foreign teachers are in charge the kids are playing games, singing songs, arm wrestling, competing in chubby bunny competitions, and having fun.  When the Thai teachers are in charge, they are chanting, clapping, and being lectured, military style.  We sing the Thai national anthem, the kids say a Buddhist prayer, and there is also a "tranquil song" with hand gestures.  It is all very different from what I can remember about my school experience.

I teach English (spelling, writing, reading, grammar, reading comprehension, critical thinking skills), Science and Math.  Most days I have the kids for three lessons, four on the busiest days.  They also learn Thai language, applied mathematics, history (Thai), and they swim once a week.  Guess who gets to swim with them?  It was surprisingly fun.

The largest obstacle is that these kids spend half their day with a teacher who yells, demands, gives orders, tells them what to do and think.  The other half of their day is spent with me, the kind of teacher who asks them to think for themselves, develop their own ideas and answers, and participate fully in class discussions/games/projects.  Often I have 18 pairs of eyes looking at me inquisitively, saying nothing at first.  Getting them to speak up can take a minute if i'm asking them about school stuff.  They are never lost for words throughout the day with each other.  I have to remind myself I used to get in trouble for talking or laughing too loud ALL THE TIME.

They are hysterical and i'll be posting pictures and videos soon.

The day ends with homeroom, which is cleaning up the classroom and getting homework together.  Half my class stays for an extra 50 minutes of English and then another 50 minutes of Thai.  Guess how much we get done at the end of the day in extra English?  All in all, they're great kids, minus the one or two I want to punt down the hallway throughout the day, and i'm really enjoying myself even more than i'd hoped.  I'm really happy to be here doing this.

Congratulations, to my friends Jenny and Dan, for tying the knot this weekend.  Missing the celebration wasn't easy, but having their support made it bearable.  I guess the fact that i'm living in Thailand helps too.

Living the Life

What a great weekend in Phuket.  I've gotten all my school stuff organized and ready to go for the week.  I had a quiet lunch with Carey, and i'm sitting here in my comfy apartment enjoying a thunderstorm.   Apart from Friday night's absurdity that is Patong, my time was spent doing things that I really hope will become routine.

Saturday morning I woke up fairly early, shockingly, since I was up so late the night before, and I sat on my porch, soaking up the rays, drinking coffee, and face timing with my best friend back home.  Started chatting with the gal who invited Carey and I out Friday.  We agreed we both wanted to go to the beach.  Carey had received an invite to Karon Beach to watch the Phuket Open Beach Volleyball Tournament.  Several folks from Friday were gathering at Laem Sing Beach to relax.  I opted for relaxing and Carey agreed, so we picked up our new friend en route and headed west.  If you don't know where you're going, it's easy to miss.  The beach isn't visible from the road.

That's because it's below… way below where the road is.  Lots of steps, carefully laid ones, to get to the sand.  The thought of coming back up was enough to keep me by the water alone.

When we got a peek of this view though, I knew tearing myself away was going to be difficult.  

We found familiar faces easily.  The beach is quiet, calm, and uncrowded.  We were greeted quickly by nice young Thai men who set up lounge chairs for us with our group, positioned umbrellas depending on whether someone wanted sun or "shadow," put out our towels, brought tables, offered menus, delivered drinks.. it was awesome.  

We lounged and chatted, laughed, regaled one another with stories from the night before.  Some folks had some beers, others sipped on green coconuts.  Without any word, people casually took turns getting in the water.  It was wonderfully refreshing and surprisingly strong.  I found the little free standing shower on the beach to be far better for cooling down.  The food was reasonably priced and it cost 100 baht per chair for the day.  I guess the umbrellas just came along with the chairs.

I took a few pictures, but I feel like my camera phone just can't capture the beauty of this paradise.

 I'm feeling really content today.  I made it through my first full week of school.  I've got the best family a gal could ask for back home.  I've got one of the best people I know by my side, caring for me when i'm sick, listening to me rant when I feel crazy, and dancing with me til the wee hours of the morning.  I'm making new friends.  Feeling ready for the next week of school.  Even though it's raining outside, there's nothing like the sound of rain and the rumble of thunder to accompany feelings of gratitude and happiness.

The Love Child of Vegas and New Orleans

Without a doubt, at almost 30, I still need my parents' help.  Counting myself as lucky, to have the parents that I do, is about all I can do.  There is no wonder why I turned out the way that I did - pretty good, if I do say so.  All of my good qualities come from them.  I feel fairly confident that Patong will be a destination spot we will miss when they come to visit…although, if you know Ed and Sandy, you know they don't stray far from a good time.  So maybe not.

My first full week - finish!  None of my kids know what the hell i'm saying when I ask them if they are done.  While we're at it, they also don't know what an eraser is (it's a rubber), they ask me to "go to toilet" and my Thai teacher requests that I close the air conditioner before I leave.  Yeah, you bet I have that thing blasting.  I also promise to close it (turn it off) when I leave.

On Wednesday one of my new first grade teacher colleagues asked me if I wanted to go out on Friday. This included meeting at a fellow teacher's house and then heading to Patong.  I love a house party and was excited, yet nervous about meeting new people and getting to know folks I work with, but going to Patong was a whole different story.  I'd heard stories about it, lady boys as far as the eye can see, indescribable sights, and things that would make even the most brazen of women blush.  Carey, of course, agreed to go with me.  We're a buy one get one deal when it comes to social engagements, which is nice.

After school, it was chill time.  Decompress, nap, shower, get sucked into a youtube vortex, stress about finances, whatever, and then about 8:30, it's time to start getting ready.  One of my favorite things about Thailand is that getting ready takes about half an hour because I never feel the need to blow dry my hair and I can literally wear whatever I want because men are only looking at Thai women.. this is even more true in Patong.  Stay with me.  We took a stroll on down to our friendly neighborhood restaurant for some pre drinking food and had fingers crossed for a ride.  I don't know how people do it here, but they've constantly got new cars.  After we finished our freshly made grilled chicken and fried rice, we hopped in a brand new pickup truck and got a lift to our house party from one of the ladies that runs the joint.

The house part of the night was just like every other house party you've been to.. the important part is that right after we arrived, a South African girl dressed as a minion came into the house and asked who all would be going to Patong.  She ordered two tuk tuks and said we had about 40 minutes before departure.  Some folks were dressed up for Halloween.  You see, in almost every other part of the world, this is not a holiday.  The thrill of dressing up is not gone.  Because people love it so much, they get very creative.  No more sexy cop, sexy firefighter, sexy nurse, or sexy podiatrist.  It was refreshing to see people using their minds instead of their tits.  No one cared that Carey and I chose not to dress up.  I embraced the fact that for the first time in my entire life I didn't feel the pressure to dress up.

So we piled about 20 people into two of these for 100 baht a piece - super cheap:

And hit the dusty, hilly trail to Patong.  It started pouring right before we left and continued until we got to the mouth of Bangla Road.  "We're running to the bar!  Follow the person in front of you!"  Boy did we.  Like a line of ants blazing a new trail across my kitchen counter, we hauled ass down a long street lined with bars and restaurants, littered with women selling flowers, men passing out flyers selling sex, and white people from every corner of the world dancing with reckless abandon in the rain.  We took a turn at a spot that I would have never found had I not been following the "lady boy pimp" from my tuk tuk.  We entered what looked like a hollowed out tin warehouse with a line of bars straight down the middle and mouths of "bars" along both sides.  We went straight to the back, to the last bar.  I felt like I was in college again.. people ordering trays of shots and bears by the fist full.  Didn't have to pay for anything.  Clutch.  Need to go to the bathroom?  Just walk into one of the bars, pass the dancing naked "women" on stage, through the creepy old men, and wait until the stripper in the stall and the Italian dude at the urinal get done peeing so you can go.  The urinal is directly across from the sink, outside of the stalls.  Awkward.  Now, I can't count the number of times i've been in American strip clubs on one hand.  I always felt a pang of sadness for those girls.  Daddy issues and drug problems hang in the air like a bad fart.  Multiply that times 1,000 and you have a Thai strip club.  These girls literally can't do anything else and make the kind of money they do.  They're more than likely sending money back to their family in some secluded mountain town with toilets that are holes in the ground.  

From there we hit another bar where a Thai music group sang popular American tunes.  They took turns sitting in the chair center stage and singing.  We left when a fight broke out.  One of the minions took an elbow to the face and started crying.  Check please.  We bobbed and weaved to what I would call a discotec.  A huge open bar up the red carpeted stairs with loud thumping music and strobe lights. I'm not much of a dancer, but Carey and I both danced our faces off and had a beer.  People talk about being in Patong bars until 5:00 or 6:00 in the morning.  My hetero life partner and I both agreed that we're too old for that kind of nonsense before we even got out of the tuk tuk.  After a rousing hour of breaking it down, we decided it was time to go.  Because we only work with the people we were out with and no one really cared whether or not we were accounted for, we got to leave without the usual requisite goodbyes and we peaced.  

We grabbed a small tuk tuk and made our way across the island to the feet of Big Buddha, with views of the love child of Vegas and New Orleans in the rearview.  We held our usual porch debrief and headed to our respective beds.  I took a minute to FaceTime Jenny and Dan.  They walked me through Binny's and we caught up, which is always a good time.  Their wedding is a week away and I wish I could be there, but i'm doing what my dad told me to do - and I always listen to my dad (right, pop?) - i'm living in the moment and focusing on the here and now.  Ed would have made a good monk.  

Going to hit a beach today, mark some more Phuket stuff off the to do list.  It's a beautiful day in Thailand.  I'll take lots of pictures.  

Chicken Feet

I. am. irritable.

Because the students aren't here yet, all of the classroom aircons (everyone else in the world calls air-conditioning aircon) are turned off, which means it. is. hot. everywhere.  There is no relief.


I meet with students on Thursday, but I don't know which ones because I don't have my schedule yet.  Because I don't have my schedule, I don't know what lessons i'll be teaching to whom.  Because I don't have a schedule yet, I don't know where the classrooms are that i'm supposed to go to.  The school is a maze.  I haven't received any guidance on which books are appropriate for which level readers.  I spent a week in this school doing nothing.  I was on holiday all last week with no where to go and all the time in the world.    I was here yesterday doing next to nothing and most of my day has been me trying to create "just in case" lesson plans.


Today's school lunch menu included white rice, some sort of cooked sprouts, and a lovely peppers and chicken feet dish.  Chicken. feet.  The girl in front of me in line identified for me "what is that?"  Thankfully none of them made it on my plate.  You serve yourself, thank heaven.  I'm feeling fairly confident, had any of them ended up on my plate, there would have been a scene.

As Ron Burgundy would say, "I'm in a glass case of emotions."

I guess my attempts at being in the moment and not worrying about the things I can't control are working a little.. because the thing i'm most upset by today is the lunch.  The fact that there were feet of chickens in a meal set out for me just really burns my biscuits.  I suppose this is cultural even though i've never seen chicken feet on a menu.

When it is all said and done, I can entertain children for an hour, but I don't want to look like an idiot.  The less organized I am, the harder it is to maintain control and set myself up for a successful term.  I'll just keep plugging away, keep bugging people, prepare the best I can and hope for the best.

What i'm really hoping for is never to see chicken feet ever again.

Anyway, Malaysia

I am someone who thrives with more things happening in my life.  When my schedule has a lot of down time, I have a tendency to spend a lot of that time... down.  As in doing nothing.  My school's "holiday" a week after starting my teaching gig, felt more like an inconvenience than anything.  I know, i'm not normal.  I did some exploring, got some more defensive driving skills under my belt, had the best pedicure of my life, and completed some domestic tasks and lesson plans.  I did not write my blog post.

Here I am, awake at 7:00 am on a Sunday to watch the Clemson Tigers play.  I stayed up until 3:00 am to watch my Gamecocks lose to the Vols by a field goal - what a blow.  Sandy was nice enough not to call and sing Rocky Top.  This year.  I feel for and worry about quarterbacks after games like this one between Clemson and FSU, especially when I like the quarterback.  Fans like to place blame and abandon the very people they've held at such high regard when things go don't go the way they'd hoped.  Here in the land where people live and breath college football, I fear this will be a character building and skin toughening experience for Tajh.  Chin up, buddy - don't listen to the nonsense.

Anyway, Malaysia.

Yep, I went there.  When you arrive in Thailand, you get a stamp in your passport.  This allots you 30 days in the Land of Smiles.  Before it expires, if you want to stay, you have to leave the country for 24 hours.  Upon return, and i'm not sure how this happens because it was taken care of for me, you can receive a 60 day tourist visa.  There are several companies in the Phuket area, that i'm aware of, who will pick you up, drive you there (Panang, Malaysia), put you up in a hotel, take care of the legalities, and drive you back.  Grab your barf bag, kick your feet up and join me on this terrifying, unexpected, yet fun, journey.

Pick up: Sunday, 9:00 pm at the Family Mart at the end of my street.
Must bring: passport, departure card (obtained when you land in a country and go through immigration at the airport), two passport sized pictures, and 4700 baht (roughly $151 USD).
Suggestions for packing: 1 change of clothes, pillow, some form of entertainment, any pill that helps you sleep/relax/not care that you're careening down the street at 75 mph, weaving in and out of traffic coming in both directions), and a friend who can be equally comforting and terrified in shifts, that you can lean on for "sleep time," travel tissues and hand sanitizer.

Imagine getting on a van where you're awkwardly close to eight strangers, some who don't speak English, like the lovely Ukranian woman on my right, which means you have zero communication with them.  Get comfortable, because you're about to spend the next 10 hours together.  The only person who directly addressed Carey and myself was an Australian who has been traveling around the world for the last year, not working, and has decided to stay in Phuket for a month to "train in muay thai" before he goes home for a little bit.  Eye roll.  He thinks he's going to invest in a bar here in Phuket after he gets done visiting home - not sure with what money since he hasn't been working and won't be while he's home (eye roll #2) - because so many guys who he has talked to say "they love it because it's so much fun" (eye roll #3).  He's never worked in a bar, "but i've spent a lot of time in a lot of bars."  Right.. that's kind of the same.  Not even a little bit.  Eye roll #4.   The rest of our clan included three young, chatty Italians, who brought nothing but the clothes they were wearing and cigarettes.  A young undetermined Asian couple, who only rode with us part of the way because they transferred to another bus so they could sit together.  Originally the guy was stuck in the front passenger seat, or as I like to call it, my personal hell.  There was another guy who never spoke to anyone and if he ever said anything out loud, I didn't hear it, so I can't even venture a guess.

Seven hours pass from the time Carey and I get into the van when we are jarred awake and told, through grunts and points, to enter what appears to be cattle gates leading up to a small ticket booth.  This was how I envisioned a Thai prison check in to be.  The entire process took close to two hours, we got back on our bus and drove the last two hours to our hotel in Panang.  The bus made more stops than seemed necessary.  By the time Carey and I would find a comfortable weird semi-spooning in a seated position maneuver, we would have to get out of the bus.  We snagged the front row of seats, so we always had to get out of the way for the others, but that was a small price to pay for the fact that we could kick our legs up on a little bench.  Being short pays off again.

Bathroom accommodations along the way are terrifying.  From beginning to end, there is nothing redeeming about this part of the experience.  There is no easy way around this.  I have never walked into a bathroom and thought to myself, "i'd rather get back on the bus and try and make it the next unknown number of hours than pee here."  From the creepy blinking florescent lighting often seen in horror movies, to the bugs and lizards trolling around, to the floor level toilets.  I've peed in nicer, cleaner, fresher port-a-potties.  In fact, i'll never complain about a port-a-potty again.  Basically, you peed into a porcelain hole in the floor.  Manual flushing involved dipping a pot/pan/tupperware container into the tub of water next to the hole in the floor and poured the water it into said hole in the floor yourself.  There was rarely toilet paper (hence the tissues you pack) and occasionally places lacked sinks for washing your hands when you are done (thank you, Bath & Body works - but mostly, thank you, Mom).  On the way home, after about our fourth stop I turned to Carey and explained that I "hadn't pulled the ol' squat and lean in awhile, probably not since college."  Her puzzled look told me that I was doing something wrong.  She didn't understand so she asked for clarification, "what is it that you are doing?"  I told her I was squarely planting my feet with the hole behind me, sticking my butt out and basically doing a wall sit or a perfect form squat, "I've gotten really good at it again, I don't even touch the wall anymore."  When she commended me for my creativity and offered a suggestion, of course I thanked her and listened.  That day I learned you literally put your feet on either side of the hole (there are little blocks with tread) and you just squat down, much like a catcher does in baseball, or in my case like I did behind home plate during softball game all those years.  Lesson learned.  Next time.

Malaysia is an Islamic state, the first i've visited.  After we arrived, Carey and I both wanted to lay down for a bit and it was raining, so walking around wasn't super appealing.  After little sleep during our nighttime bus ride, we both ended up napping.  Our wake up call was the 4:50 prayer that can be heard throughout the city because it is played through speakers for all to hear.  It was unexpected, to say the least, and a little discombobulating.  There was no going back to sleep after that, so we wandered.  We found multiple 7/11s, true to this part of the world, and got some cash.  We cruised some shops and both landed ourselves a pair of genie pants.  I'd been diligently searching.  It had been about nine hours since we last ate, so we stopped into Kashmir Restaurant and posted up on the front patio overlooking a central part of town.  We ordered a couple buy one get one big Carlsberg beers, an order of samosa, onion naan and chicken curry.  The best Indian food i've ever tasted.  Because of our location, we were able to assess that traffic seems to be a little bit more structured, a lot more people speak English so signs made more sense, and there is a wide variety of culture roaming the streets of Panang.  In fact, after we got done eating and we were finishing up our beers, I looked up in time to see the t-shirt a man was wearing before he passed us: ROLL TIDE.  Holy. shit.  So I made eye contact with him and said, "SEC?"  There was no denying the look of confusion that darted across his face, so I pointed to his shirt and said, "Roll tide?"  It was the one and only time i'll ever say it without a condescending hick accent.  It clicked for him.  "Yes," he said, "we're from Germany!"  He pointed to his two very small children and his wife behind him, "We went to the college football championship last year against Alabama and Louisiana."  Well, hot damn!  I told him that was cool and proudly declared, "I'm a South Carolina Gamecock."  Confused look again, "Have a nice day!"

The journey back was just like the one down, only in daylight, which meant seeing all of the cars we were playing chicken with was all the more easy.  Here is where the ipads with movies came in handy. Any visual distraction will do.  All in all, our hotel was lovely, apart from the breakfast we had the morning we left, the food was good, and we got our visas squared away.  Coming back across the border was far easier and quicker than the first time.  Carey and I have added Malaysia to our list of places we've been in briefly and would like to go to again with more time, right after Hong Kong.  Although neither of us would like to go on another visa run, chances are we'll have to because, much like in America, government offices are understaffed, overworked, and underpaid, which means paperwork takes forever.  Our school can now apply for our work permits, which will then qualify us for 14 month work visas.  For now, Thailand still views us as tourists.

Next time, we'll be more mentally prepared and i'll know how to use the ground toilets properly.  Growing every chance I get.





  

Beached Whale

Today a severely overweight, old Welshman, my colleague no less, asked me if any Thai people have called me fat yet.  Huh?  Is this a thing Thai people do?  This is an insult here, right?  Is THIS guy calling ME fat?  Is this a real question?  How do I answer that?  Can I say 'no' without his feelings getting hurt?  Do I even care about his feelings now?

By no stretch of my severely creative mind would I say i'm thin.  In fact, anyone that knows me at all would be able to tell you that, for the majority of my life, I have worried, battled, struggled with weight.  As a 5 foot-nothing athlete, who comes from a 'teapot' lineage (think about it), there has never been a time in my life, since I hit the age of realizing that not thin is viewed as bad, that I haven't been aware of the fact that i'm not.  Throughout my teens I felt the pressure to try to be as thin as possible.  Only my thin as possible was never synonymous to most of my gal pals', certainly not to my tall, lanky best friend from 7 to 18 years old.  Those who know me well know that i've been through a barrage of feelings regarding this very truth.  I meander between acceptance and pride in how i'm built,  and feelings of extreme dislike, frustration, fear and disappointment.

Here I am, being as positive and in the moment as I can be, some days easier than others for the last number of months, because I believe in the depths of my heart that i've made the right choice for me, and this asshole goes and says something like that.  Now, because of how I feel about this very topic, in my mind it is multiplied by a million.  I get through the rest of my conversation with him and finish out my day at school.  Unfortunately for Carey, how i'm feeling is written all over my face, and she can see it the minute I get in the car.  It might as well have been branded across my chipmunk cheeks and McGranahan double chin because she carefully asked, "Heeeeey, what's.. going... on?"  Cue the tears.  Only three; one from the left, then the right, then the left, "I've had nothing to do all day!"  She continues carefully, asking me to tell her about it - bored to tears can't be right.  I quickly, and without much of a transition i'm afraid, begin to recount the last hours i've spent listening to the most negative man in Thailand tell me about every single bad thing about living in Thailand and the Thai people, "and then he asked me if anyone has called me fat yet."  Honestly, he is the most negative man i've encountered here, I told him as much right before I asked him why he is even living here.  He shared with me that i'm not the first person who has said these things to him.  Also honestly, I pulled his words out of context.  He was in the midst of complaining and describing all the ways he believes Thai people are rude when he expressed to me that a student called him fat in the last three months when he asked me if a Thai person has called me fat.

I did the best I could in the thirty minutes that lapsed between my final minutes with him and the moment I got into the car with Carey.  However, all I could hear in my mind was FAT.  FAT.  FAT.  It was like the bass of a song you can't really make out but you can't escape the steady boom boom boom.  

In an attempt to console me, Carey asks if I want to get some cake.  Bless her heart, she is trying.  Of course I want cake, i'm fat, remember?  But I decline.  We ride in silence for a beat before she says, "I'm going to go get a massage, you want to go?"  Done.  My friends, let me tell you something.  The Thai people know how to give a massage.  Let me tell you another thing, there is NO room for modesty in this situation.  I've had massages in America, but they pale in comparison.  Lawsuits and modesty be damned.  Take your clothes off and get ready for some e-x-p-o-s-u-r-e.  So there I am, feeling like a beached whale on this table with this tiny Thai woman clinging to my whale back.  It hurts, but that's not why I begin to shed some tears.  Yeah, I did it.  I cried during a massage.  Albeit quietly and privately, my face was in a hole, but I did it.  I cried because I got slapped in the face with reality today.

I cried because i'm tired of being the little gymnast who isn't all knees and elbows.  I cried because i'm tired of not being the thin girl who can eat whatever she wants and not think twice.  I cried because i'm still bothered by what other's think, say, and do, even when I don't know what they're thinking, I can't hear what they're not saying, and I can't understand what they are or aren't doing.  I cried because there I was feeling like the fattest girl in the world (again) only this time i'm in nothing but my skivvies with  the tiniest little Thai lady kneeling on my back kneading out the knots and she could care less what I look (or feel) like.. and suddenly the tears stopped.  Partly because she told me to turn over on my back and I had no idea what was coming next and party because why the hell am I crying?

I know you can't run away from problems, feelings, what have you, but what i'd neglected to remember today is that even in one of the most beautiful, laid back places in the world, people are going to put their own shit on you.  That is reality.  And, if you share some of that same shit, it's going to hurt that much worse, regardless of where or who you are.  I can't be optimistic all the time.  I can't be laid back all the time.  And the whole being in the moment thing applies to not focusing on what's next, but also not being stuck in what has been before.  No matter how much you work on the outside or how much progress you feel like you make physically, if you're not dealing with what's on the inside, it doesn't matter.  This is not news to me, but as soon as i've forgotten that, some Negative Nel comes barreling along.  Everything happens for a reason.  Ignoring that the weight (no pun intended) of everything is ten fold because of all the changes i've made would be negligent as well.  A good friend imparted her wisdom today:

Let yourself feel it all and know that it will pass. It always does. It's just really scary coming down off the initial high. But you're being bold and living your life to the fullest, choosing to risk by doing instead of not doing. Just keep reminding yourself, "My life is not in danger - everything else is just drama." Everything you are experiencing is so normal.

Thank you, friend.

Really what I learned today is that if you're feeling fat, find a little Thai lady who speaks hardly any English and ask for a full body, one hour massage.  It felt weird and I couldn't shake the raw, exposed feeling until after she'd pulled the sheet back up over my twins; but when it was all said and done, after she had seen just about everything I was working with, I left feeling light and relaxed.  LIGHT.  Not fat.

Thank you, tiny Thai lady.  Thank you, Carey, for the massage instead of the cake.

Out on the Town?

After landing jobs we both wanted, Carey and I decided it was time for a night out on the town.  Although we love each other's company and we've been getting along great, it has been the only company we've kept in two weeks.  Maybe it's time to find some other people to talk to who understand us.  We explored a little bit Friday afternoon between monsoons.  We found a small strip between the Chalong Circle (a major traffic circle not far from our apartment building) and the Chalong Pier, full of bars.  In the day light, we could see sign after sign advertising bars, drinks, massages... what?  None of them were open at the time, naturally, but at least we knew where we could go and have some options.

Later that night, we got dressed and headed out on foot.  Before dark fell, we decided we'd be able to find a cab to get us home and had even located a 24 hour cab service phone number posted outside one of the bars.  But as we walked toward the main road we realized neither of us had considered how we would get TO the bars, "surely there will be a cab at the Family Mart on the corner."  We came upon our favorite restaurant, run by The Three Ladies and they began to cat call and whistle, "Where you going?!"  When we explained we were going to go have some drinks and celebrate they pointed to their little bar, stocked with a strange array of liquors, "Drinks here!  Party!"  Politely declining, they suddenly understood what we weren't saying, something only women could communicate without words, that in addition to finding drinks, we were also hoping to run into some male company.  One of the ladies asked us how we would get to where we were going, "We're going to find a cab up here."  The eldest interrupted, "I get you cab, 300 baht?"  Well this was unexpected and awesome.  Turns out, she meant she would get her truck and drive us where we wanted to go.  Even better.  So for $10 USD, we were driven by someone we "know and trust" to our little strip of bars and dropped off right outside of a bar of our choosing.  I won't lie, it felt a little bit like getting dropped off by aunt aunt, but it worked.

As we strolled down the street, we weren't really sure what we would find, nor where we wanted to go.  It became apparent quickly that we'd found ourselves smack dab in the middle of what seemed to be Chicago's Viagra Triangle (where old men go to find young women) and Boystown (the notoriously gay neighborhood) all mixed up together and set up on the island of Phuket.  The entrance of every bar was guarded by a small herd of young Thai women (?) greeting passersby, beckoning them to come in for a drink.  We headed to the end of the strip, furthest from where we entered and sat down at a bier garden.  There were old men posted up at the bar, but no scantily clad women at the door.  It was the least intimidating.  We got two beers and sat listening to the sounds of rugby playing on the big screen.  It went without saying, this was not going to be our spot beyond the one beer.  We chatted, drank up and moved on.

We decided, after walking back up the street, that we should try out a spot just outside of the strip that we pass when we go to the grocer store.  Onward to Froggy's Hash Bar.  This bar was also free of the female greeters, but full of the other group we'd noticed everywhere: old white men.  When we walked up to order our drinks, there was a baby sitting on the bar.  What the hell?  But there we were, ordering beers, being watched by every one in the place (per usual), so we were committed.  We took our bottles outside and sat down, trying to decide if we'd try our hand at darts.  An old man was trying his best when we sat down.  A pool table at the other end of the space sat unoccupied.  Unfortunately, neither of us are very good at pool.  It wasn't long before a loud, old, man came in and placed his travel mug at the table next to us.  "Where are you two from?"  Carey and I aren't sure where he was from, my money was on Ireland, she believed northern England - since neither of us have ever spent any time in either place, it was really a crapshoot, much like our night thus far.  The gentleman, we'll call him Tom, thought it was funny that Americans were English teachers.  He was harmless and charming, in the way only a man older than your father can be.  At least he's not creepy, I thought.

A Thai woman came over to chat with us, interceding herself into our conversation with Tom.  The baby mentioned earlier was brought outside.  The lady, and also bar manager, pointed to him, "Louie, my grandson.  His dad is my daughter's husband."  She regaled us with the tale of the day she was left caring for Louie while her daughter and son in law made a visa run.  Apparently Louie wasn't happy about it, crying constantly, calling for his mama.  She told us several times that she couldn't let him sit where there was a view of the street because, "every time black car, not truck, go by he cry mammammammamamma."  She did a great imitation.  She also spoke fairly good English.  We also learned that she is in a running club and one day, after a race she got a call from her daughter.  "Her water was breaking and coming out and she call me because she was alone here at restaurant and she say she can't reach Jonathan, and she crying saying she going to die."  Grandma put on her hazards and apparently drove like a bat out of hell.  Which, frankly, doesn't sound any different than the way most people drive here.  The only difference I could find was that she rolled her window down to stick her arm out and scream "EMERGENCY" as she weaved in and out of traffic.  I wish I could say the story stopped there, but it didn't.  Keep in mind that Carey and I barely said a word, mostly nodded heads and grunted in agreement.  "Only one person allowed in delivery room.  So her husband with her.  We could hear her screaming out of the room.  Doctor let me go in too even though I not supposed to, so I holding her hand and she telling me again she going to die.  When the baby almost come out, nurse said come look, come look.  When me and her husband go to look she swat us away and tell us not to look. She shy."  As before, she shared this portion of the story several times.  We also learned about midwives, that was her recommendation to the two of us "for when you have baby."  Oh. my. gawd.

Thankfully, she needed to use the restroom so she scooted on.  Cue Tom Jones.  Karaoke, my friends, is very popular here in Thailand, apparently.  Guess who was singing?  Yep, our older friend, Tom (see what I did there?).  Tom Jones, Frank Sinatra, Elvis, Elton John.  The list goes on.  Ballad after ballad.  Guess who he wanted to sing back up?  Oh yeah.  As someone who doesn't love karaoke - listening or participating, I can tell you this wasn't exactly a good time.  I can also say that he was quite entertaining and in the end I wasn't as mortified as I would have thought.  Singing "Love Me Tender" with a man more than twice my age was weird though.  At some point, Grandma brought us a plate of salami, olives, and tomatoes.  I have no idea how to explain this.  It wasn't the kind of place I would have expected to receive such a thing, but we accepted it graciously.  Here, if you don't eat something on your plate it is assumed that you don't like it.  I haven't learned how to say 'allergy' in Thai yet.  I just continue to insult people by pushing my spinach over to Carey's side of the plate.

We tolerated the karaoke a little bit longer than we may have in any other scenario because of our gracious host and new friends.  After downing our beer, though, it was time to make moves.  We headed back to the strip.  We came upon a bar with a large table of farangs, ie white people.  This looked as good as any place we'd seen so far.  Unfortunately, as in America, a large group of young people tends to stick together.  After we finished our first beer, we decided to try to find O2, a bar Carey had been recommended through an expat group on Facebook.  The directions to get there included, "walk through the parking lot for some other restaurant, and follow the gravel road to O2."  We'd been pointed in the direction of this place earlier in the evening, but once we got through the parking lot and saw the gravel road, we (I) decided not go pursue it.  Things had not been going well all night though, what's the worst that can happen?  Carey and I are two strong, capable, scrappy women.  Carey also carries a knife.  The directions were right.  We found O2, closed at 11:00.  It was 11:10.  Neither of us were ready to go home, so we headed back to the bar with the table of farangs.

As we stood at the bar awaiting to place our order, a youngish white man approached us, "Couldn't stay away, eh?"  Oh boy.  How do you explain to someone that this is the only bar you feel remotely comfortable in because it isn't inhabited by one or three white men in their 60's or older, flocked by young Thai women dressed skimpily?  He introduced himself, explained he owned the bar (for seven or eight years), and wanted to know what we do, how long we'd been in Thailand, and if we'd be available to come back Saturday night for live music, "a party," he called it.  We got the 411 from him about high season, we're about two weeks away from it.  Then in April things start to get pretty slow again.  Good to know.  We stayed long enough to watch the bar basically empty out and decided to call it a night.  Very uncharacteristic of me, but what are you gonna do?  

Living and learning, is how we're trying to look at it.  Overall, the weekend was mildly disappointing.  We went on a hunt for Burger King the next afternoon once we both were ready to be vertical.  We never found it, but happened upon "Delish" which boasted "best burgers."  We still don't know how accurate this is, because when we got our food home and opened our to go boxes, neither of us had a patty on our buns.  A burger without a burger?  To say we were perplexed is an understatement.  Don't worry, we both got our burger fix today at the mall.  It's difficult to get to the mall because of construction traffic, so we really have to work for it if we want it.  We agreed that this is for the best.  In the parking garage at the mall, cars park perpendicular behind other parked cars.  We've seen this in lots of parking lots and are always curious how people are expected to get out if a car is blocking them in.  On our way out today, we saw a man pushing a car out of his way, "Is that how it's done?!  People just leave their car in neutral and it's moved as needed??"  We agreed that we're going to try to move a car the next chance we get.

Tomorrow is orientation at school and we're both really excited about getting started, about getting paid, and about making new friends in this wacky, new, wonderful world we're living.

Nothing of Importance

There is beauty in not knowing what the day will hold, though admittedly i'm terrible at it.  Thankfully, i'm recognizing progress as I have gone from regularly asking Carey "what do you want to do tomorrow" to taking pause and keeping the question to myself.  How would she know anyway?  I know asking isn't a bad thing and the part of me that needs to know rationalizes that it is responsible and natural to have a plan.  As i've mentioned before, the Thai people do not seem caught up in this way of life and everyone here seems to get by on vagueness.  As a newbie it seems expected, through nonchalance, that I get on board and ride it out.

Though nothing of importance or self discovery seemingly took place today i've already begun to notice small changes in myself.  Breakfast was a piece of delicious, fresh fruit and lunch a turkey sandwich with a handful of goldfish.  I commented just a bit ago to Carey that I drink so much water here.  I haven't had a canned coke or Diet Dr. Pepper (my favorite), since before leaving the states.  I have, however, discovered the Italian soda which here is basically soda water with some fruit flavoring in the bottom, topped with lime wedges and fresh mint.  I woke up when my body wanted me to after a long night of really weird dreams (again) and decided I should do some yoga.  So I shut off my air conditioner, that I keep at just cool enough or off during the day, and opened my back porch doors.  I contorted my body along to the booming voice of Jillian Michaels.  Not exactly a relaxing or centering experience.  Hot yoga took on a whole new meaning to me as I gazed out of the back of my apartment and sweated my ass off.

I accompanied Carey on her second interview, simply to get out of my apartment for the day.  I chickened out of trying to drive.  You'll get there, I keep telling myself.  When we returned we donned our swimsuits and headed up to the roof to read and relax by the pool.  This is how the other half lives, I thought to myself.  Then I realized, nope, this is how I live now.  Friends and family are miles and time zones away and I can't yet shake the curiosity of what i'm missing and the simple truth that I miss so many people so much - a small or hefty trade off, I haven't yet decided.

Every now and again I begin to wonder what i'll think of this when.. my desire to learn to truly live in the moment allows me to accept that i've had this thought without punishing myself and in the same beat it reminds me that there is not a when.  This is a first for me.  During high school it was when I get to college.  During the last years of college it was when I can get the hell out of here.  Once I got to Chicago it was when i'm done with graduate school.  The years following graduate school it was when I can find a job that I love and that pays well enough for me to live.  As someone who is not that old, nor that wise, I have accepted that i've lived a large part of my life, if not all of it, wondering about the next step, the next phase, the next job, the next relationship.. because none of what I was doing right then was right, good enough, made me truly happy.  The insides weren't really matching the outside.  I found small points of respite and i've always been thankful for who I am, where I came from, what I had, or have I?  I come from a great family and i've discovered the way to establish and maintain healthy friendships (finally), but maybe the problem has always been that I haven't really been able to appreciate all of that.  As someone who has never been dealt a serious blow of loss or hardship it seems almost petty and I can't shake the feeling of shame shrouding these confessions.  Admittance leads to acceptance, I believe.

So today, I woke up when my body wanted me to.  I ate simple foods.  I chose to do some yoga and ride in the car with my friend.  I laid by the pool and read a book.  I thought about friends and family who are miles and time zones away and I acknowledged that I am definitely missing things and without a doubt missing them.  And then, without even meaning to I appreciated where I was, who I am, where I come from, and what I have all at once.  And today, without even meaning to I did something of importance.  I discovered more of myself.