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.