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.