Thai Nuggets !!

More randomness from across the world:


There's a salutatory/farewell gesture in Thailand called the wai (rhymes with sigh). I'm a big fan of it, though I've been very confused as to when and how to perform it. It's basically a simple bow, with your hands placed, palms-together, in front of you, although exactly where in front of you is where it gets tricky. If you're wai-ing a monk or, Buddha-be-blessed, the King, then you want your hands in front of your face, thumbs touching your nose, and you bow, and I mean seriously bow; let the blood rush to the noggin a little. I also give these head-rush wais to the Catholic sister-nuns at my school (yes, Scooter Boot works at a Catholic school. more on the irony of that later.). Wais are generally given as a sign of heart-felt thanks, and can be given casually to anyone on the street or in a shop, though you should lower the hands a little, so as not to make a false idol out of your waitress. One thing you must never do, and I found this out amidst a bevy of laughter, is wai someone younger than you, especially if you're a teacher wai-ing a student. I was told by a particularly peeved little girl that I had just wai-ed a year off of her life (her explanation of this was classic; some people actually believe that if you wai a younger person, they lose a year of their life; some believe it's seven years of life). She wasn't the first child I had wai-ed, and it soon dawned on me that I had done more damage to the lives of Thai children, with my well-intentioned wais, than second-hand smoke.



Seems there's no copyright enforcement over here in the Eastern Hemisphere (shit, I'm in the Eastern Hemisfuckinphere! That still boggles the mind). You can find carts at any major night-market filled to the brim with the most recent blockbusters. Or you can walk into an iPod shop and choose from thousands of albums and movies to download for less than $3 each. I'm talking about shit that's still in theatres. I bought DVD's of Quantum of Solace, Benjamin Button, The Dark Knight, Iron Man, and the like for about $7 a pop. Luckily I have a few friends who are downloading fiends, so I've been able to see films that way as well. My two recent faves are Gran Turino (could be Clint's last film, and it's a fucking gem), and Slumdog Millionaire, a movie brilliant beyond description. It takes place in Mumbai, but reminds me very much of Thai people and locales. Just see it.



Remember those big glass soda pop bottles from back in the day? We got those over here. Damn I missed those.

Thai people love the shit out of some Cranberries. I catch my students singing "Zombie" in the class-room all the live long day. That and Flo Rida's "Low" are currently the two most popular Western songs in Thai existence. Another funny story featuring "Low" coming soon.

Chickens and roosters are abundant in this country. They're everywhere, from the sparsely populated countrysides to the seedy back-alleys of Bangkok. But there's something wrong with these fowl, and I ain't talking about Avian Flu. It's obvious that they're not eating well, and the roosters boast the most pathetic doodle-doo's I've ever heard. If there is such a thing as a chain-smoking chicken, with tuberculosis, then Thailand's got loads. I've got a family of them living quite literally outside of my bedroom window, and every morning I wake up to the scratching chalkboard of their cock-a-doodles. It's very painful to listen to, but a great deterrent for over-sleeping. One night, I decided to fuck with their poultry little heads, and I set my cell-phone alarm clock ring to rooster. It sounds more like a rooster then the poor bastards outside my house, and it's pretty loud at that. So the next morning, seven o'clock rolls around and off goes my alarm clock. I held the phone up to the window to demonstrate a proper cock-call. I think it blew their tiny little minds, but soon only incensed them to try harder. Kinda felt bad after that. Can't believe I just wrote a whole paragraph on roosters. Don't even get me started on the ducks.

Tan skin is a blemish in the eyes of Thais. Men and women alike are constantly trying to make their appearance whiter. I'll even see little kids walking around with white powder smeared all over their face. At first I thought it was some religious thing that I didn't understand. Turns out it's some cosmetic thing I don't understand. My friend Jeab and her girlfriends weren't convinced when I told them that people in the Western Hem (the very people they try to emulate) all want to be tan as can be, and would envy the color of their skin. They just dismissed me and threw more baby powder on their faces.

Best way to pass the time in Thailand is to read. Best way to pass the time anywhere actually. Books are hard to come by though, outside of BKK, Chiang Mai, and the resort towns. And they're not nearly as cheap as movies. Most used copies cost more than a new edition back home. Copyright infringement doesn't really hold sway over literature in this country as well. I recently bought a copy of Breakfast of Champions that had been completely photocopied and pasted to a mock jacket. Still reads well though. Books I currently have my eye on are White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, recent winner of the Booker Prize, and Obama's book, but not the new one Audacity of Hope; the one he wrote in the nineties whose title I can't remember at the moment.

Lese-Majeste

Liz Reilly-Brown left a very interesting, and disturbing link on my Facebook page that all of you should check out. It tells the account of a man who was recently apprehended by the Thai police while trying to exit the country. It seems the man made some disparaging remarks about the Thai monarchy in a book he that he wrote. He was sentenced to six years, cut-down to three after he pled guilty. The book he wrote wasn't even widely read, in fact it sold just seven copies.

I would not like this to happen to me. I'm currently reading a book called Damage Done, about a drug traffiker's 12 years in the Bangkok Hilton, the name given lovingly by the inmates of Thailand's capital prison. So, if I've written anything derogatory about the King, of which I'm certain I have not, please let me know. Same goes for future posts. Did I mention that I absolutely love His Majesty, the King of Thailand?

Rice Boogers

There's a definite texture to the air here in Thailand. You can really feel it when riding around on an open-air tuk-tuk or scooter; tiny particles stinging the cheeks. I wondered how long I was going to last in a country where you can actually touch the pollution, as opposed to just seeing, smelling, and tasting it; where it is highly recommended to wear a breathing-mask if you plan on staying outdoors for extended periods of time; where inhalers sell like hot-cakes in every 7-11. Of course poor sewage-systems and a lack of efficient waste disposal have a lot to do with it, especially in the big cities, but they only account for the god-awful smells you encounter here, more often than not. The real culprit behind the tangibleness of the air is the burning fields of rice.



Thailand is the world's largest rice exporter. Throw a rock anywhere in Thailand, and you'll probably hit a rice-farmer. Rice paddies produce a lot of methane, one of those gases turning our planet into a glacier-melting greenhouse. In fact, there is no other crop on the planet that emits more methane than rice paddies. A lot of water is used for the irrigation of rice-crops, to the point where the entire field is flooded over. Bacteria thrive in these saturated fields, feeding off of the manure used for fertilizer, and it's these bacteria that produce the methane. Farmers have been urged by the government to drain their fields from time to time, but many just ignore these requests. Recently, farmers began burning empty rice-husks instead of letting them rot out in the fields to create more rotten gas. In the farm regions surrounding Bangkok, this practice has been both economically and environmentally beneficial. The burning of leftover husks creates a more climate-friendly power source than coal or oil, decreasing the amount of imported oil. But in other regions, particularly the mountainous north, the fields are burned directly into the air, the resulting power not used as an alternative energy source. Mountains surround the northern cities, trapping the sooty air in like a flue. And this my dear friends, is why the air clogs my nose and stings my face.

Keep in mind that this was in September, October, and November, well after the close of the burning season, which ends sometime in the spring. So I can't imagine how thick and dirty the air is going to be come April. It's quite a Catch 22 the Asians are faced with. They can't possibly consider not producing rice. But if they continue to grow it in the traditional manner of flooding the fields, global methane emissions will continue to grow, and if they continue the slash-and-burn technique without transferring the fallout to reusable energy, it will soon become very uncomfortable to breathe in this country. I'm already getting way more boogers than I care to pick.

Make Mine Choo-Choo

I've experienced about all the transportation Thailand has to offer. From the soi-ways of Chiang Mai to the shore-ways of Samui, I've white-knuckled 'em all. Been tossed around on a tuk-tuk, and found religion on an airplane. I've gone cross-country in a car, mosied up-river in a scopion-tail, got sun-burnt and beer-drunk on a ferry-boat, pooped on a bus, and t-boned on a bicycle. Sheeit, I even crashed a scooter (I even got that one on film). But at the end of the day, my absolute favorite mode of traversing A to B has got to be through the Royal State Railway of Siam. There is no more comfortable, affordable, or scenic way to get around Thailand.

Other than my flight into Thailand, I've flown twice since arriving here, on my way to and from Samui the week of my birthday. And if I can help it, I won't step foot on another plane until I leave this country. The pilots are adept enough in the air, but they land their planes with the deftness of a bumper-car. It's also expensive as hell, at least as far as the Baht goes.

I just recently took a VIP bus up from Surat to BKK, and then over to the Killing Fields of Cambodia and back again. The bus is ok for short day trips of four to six hours, but becomes a little intolerable at night, especially for us tall folk. When I first saw one of these cross-country buses I was floored. These buses are behemoths standing at an easy 15-20 feet. They look like double-deckers, but passengers only sit on the top floor. I'm not sure what goes on in the bottom-half, other than a small room for the toilet. Maybe crew quarters? There are two seats at the very front right of the bus that provide ample leg room and a panoramic view of the road ahead, and though I did snag one of these seats, like a damn fool gentleman I gave it up to two lovely Thai girls who knew exactly how to bat their eyelashes at me. The bus isn't awful, but at the same price for a 2nd class sleeper on a train, I'm going with the train.

If I had my druthers, I would love to have an car for the remainder of my stay here, if only for cross-country trips. As it stands, I never again want to sit in the passenger seat of another Thai automobile. Fuck the Autobahn, the Thais have rewritten the book on no-holds-barred, balls-to-the-wall driving. I've taken two trips outside of the city in a car: one to the Burmese border in a small hatch-back with a hired driver, and the other with my friend Nung on an eight-hour trek to BKK. The speedometer never dipped below 120 km/h on either trip, unless we were pulling over that is, and that includes going over hills and around mountain curves, Buddha bless any pedestrian or chicken that got in our way. And I don't blame them. If I were driving, with absolutely no fear of being pulled over, you're damn right I'm bringing the lead-foot. So, it's probably a good thing that I won't be driving a car of my own over here. For the chickens. I do however have a motor-scooter that I swapped my friend Jaeb a brand-new bicycle for a few weeks ago, but that's only good for day excursions to the surrounding countryside.

So, other than the occasional ferry ride to the outlying islands, those are the primary forms of transportation for getting across Thailand. And they don't hold a candle to RSRS. There's nothing like falling asleep after decent meal and a few beers in the dining-car, in your very own cozy, little curtained bed to the comforting clickity-clack of the tracks beneath you. And it's so economical. I can traverse a couple thousand miles for under 1000 Baht ($30), and arrive rested and refreshed and ready to face whatever hell Thai urban transportation has waiting for me. And I haven't even tried 1st class yet. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes come March.

Chomp Triple-Up Chomp Chomp Chomp

My sunovabitch visa and back to school sickness has been keeping me from the computer, but I just wanted to drop a line and say me some, "Gooo motherfuckin Gators!!" I love me some Percy! And Timmy T. too of course. Can't wait to hear about all the game-watchin parties and what not. Y'all shoulda seen me at school after I checked the score. If those kids thought their tall-ass farang teacher was ting-tong* before, imagine what they think after I walked through Exercise Day** doing the Chomp, hootin and hollerin on the phone to LJ. It's three in the pm here, which means shit on Uni. Av. is probably just winding down. Enjoy my friends. And fuck you to all you Trojans, Utes and Longhorns who think you deserve a piece! Want to write more, but I gotta catch a bus to Cambodia.

*Ting-tong is Thai for crazy. And maybe something a little more scandalous.
**Exercise Day (Friday) is when my school gathers a couple thousand kids at once into the huge central courtyard, where they do these silly ass exercises to some pretty hilarious music played over a very loud speaker. More guffaw-inducing stories on that later.

A Florida Cracker in King Bhumibol's Court, Part One: Not So Fellow Farang

"Why are you going to Thailand?" or "How did you decide on Thailand?" were the two most frequently asked questions of me in the several weeks leading up to my departure. In fact, people still ask me that question on Facebook and shit when they find out I'm here. I'm never quite satisfied with the answers I give, and neither are the askers of said questions. I usually tell them that I've always wanted to visit the Far East, but I've always wanted to visit anywhere outside of the States, so that's misleading. Or I'll sometimes say that I've always felt some strange attraction to the land of Siam, but that's just ethereal bullshit. The most accurate answer given is that a family acquaintance has set up shop in Chiang Mai, and I was offered cheap room and board at his immaculate guest house. This is indeed true, but a poor factor in deciding where to spend the next year of my life teaching. The truth is that although Thailand was and is in dire need of competent teachers, and that it is a popular destination for cheap thrill-seekers, I didn't know the truth. But I think that I've discovered it post-facto, on many seperate occasions, and this next set of stories is indeed about me wondering why, exactly, am I in Thailand and getting to the bottom of that quandry.

I still want to tell y'all about everything I did in my few weeks in Chiang Mai leading up to the migration south to Surat Thani, and there are so many little stories that I've all but forgotten by now, that I haven't a clue where to begin. So, I'll just tell my 'big fish' tale, and everything culminating up to it, and hopefully the juicy tidbits will fall into place along the way.

I remember my third day in Chiang Mai deciding that I wanted to make the trip up to the mystical mountain temple of Doi Suthep. The majestic, cloud-shrouded hilltop had been overshadowing my travels throughout the city thus-far, its eastern summit calling out to me on every trip home to Santitham, as though the faint chanting of the monks at dusk were rolling down the mountainside like some benevolent banshee call. So I planned on renting a bicycle the next morning (only 60 Baht a day!; that's less than $2.00), and making the climb.

That afternoon, however, Santitham received two unexpected visitors. I was upstairs enjoying a late afternoon nap, when my slumber stirred with some very loud, very New York-sounding English. I looked out of my window down into the courtyard to see two ladies unloading there luggage from a tuk-tuk. Spying from the second-floor window, I tried to make out if they looked interesting enough to come down and introduce myself to, but soon said, "Fuck it", they're Americans and after only two days in this strange land, I was already chomping at the bit for some familiarity. So I threw some clothes on and headed down to say hello.

This turned out to be not the first, and certainly not the last social mistake I would make on my travels. Two lessons would be learned: 1) do not expect comfort from your fellow farang, and 2) never follow a hippie to a second location, especially a self-proclaimed, pompous New Age hippie. The two ladies from New York were a mother and daughter; both so-worth-forgetting that I can't remember their names, so I'll name the mom Blannie and the daughter Sylvia. Blannie, because she reminds me of my friend Steve's hippie mom, but with a lot less tact; one of those paradoxically pretentious hippies. And Sylvia because I just realized that the daughter gave me her "Free-lance Writer" business card before she left and it identifies her as such.

Right away I could tell that I wouldn't mesh well with the new guests. They were handing their bags off to Burm and his friend Don as if it were a privelege to handle such precious cargo, and they were speaking fast, New York English and becoming frustrated and huffy when the Thais had trouble understanding them. We exchanged some forced pleasantries, forced on my end anyhow, discussed where we came from and how both Sylvia and I were in Thailand to hopefully teach English. I immediately sympathized with any potential students she might have, having already witnessed this girl's impatience at the slightest bit of miscommunication. We talked about our plans for the next several days, and I told them I was planning a visit up to Doi Suthep the following morning. Upon hearing this they insisted that we go up there that very moment to watch the sunset and hear the monks chant. I tried to sound inconvenianced, but they wouldn't hear it. Thinking I could save a little money by carpooling and possibly lose them once we got there, I reluctantly agreed to join them. The subsequent experiences I shared with them gave me subjective insight in to how Americans abroad are sometimes (if not often) viewed. Not too kindly.

Sa Wat Dee Bee Mai 'Merica!

That's a big 'ol Happy New Year in Thai-speak. I'm just now heading home from a hectic holiday hoo-ha up in Chiang Mai, and I'm anxious to get back to work and get on with my routine. I've got a lot of stories to tell, and now that my computer's fixed I'll be able to tell them more often, so I hope I didn't lose all of y'all with my blog-less December. Right now I'm sitting bleary-eyed in Bangkok, people-watching at the train station, after a 16-hour trip on 3rd-class seating...they had me sitting with a sack of potatoes. I should get back to Surat around midnight tonight, and then it's a full day of school tomorrow. I can't wait to show the kids my thickish, holiday beard. They're gonna go apeshit. I'm not allowed to have a beard, but I'll just blame it on the water going out, which it often does. And then, after school, I'll sit down for a nice long session of Thai nuggetry, of the smoked and written kind. Can't wait to fill you all in on all the mishaps and mayhem. Hope everyone had a wonderful New Year celebration, and that no one was maimed by a firecracker, like me. I love all you sons-a-bitches! Check back tomorrow for more posts. Scooter