Now that my girlfriends apartment is free from ghosts (see previous entry "Voodoo Dollhouse"), we settle in for a night's sleep. The air conditioner is humming, and the toilet is belching every time a neighbor flushes theirs. This building is a monastery for the study of the arcane. It's inhabitants move along like apparitions in the hallways and elevators, not speaking to each other. This is a lower class workers hovel. The only place my girl could afford when I met her.
As my girl and I lay together in bed she makes a face as though she hears something foreboding.
"Never open door past ten o' cok" My girl says. Her face is full of fear. "I hear lady come home in next apartment. She always fighting with husband. He get mao mak (very drunk) and he hit her every night."
"He hits her?"
"Yes, Nothing can do. Just don't open door past ten o' cok"
We are watching a Thai variety show. Say what you want about lazy American's glued to the television. TV watching in Thailand is a national sport. My girl's apartment is a fairly shitty one room affair. She cooks on a hot plate on the floor and has a small fridge. Cockroaches pop up now and then, but I have lived in worse places in the States when I was younger. The walls are paper thin and we can hear her neighbor crying. Sure enough, the hits and epithets start flying within the hour.
"Hia! (cunt)" The man yells. His voice is hoarse, and he coughs deeply between bouts of psychosis.
"We have to do something. Call the police." I tell my girl.
I know this is disturbing to my girl, but I think she is afraid to get involved with the violence next door. She is under 100 pounds and can't defend herself. Up until now, she has been alone through these episodes. The yelling, and slaps, and ensuing crying gets louder. I try several times to go out into the hall to knock on the neighbors door, and straighten out the asshole who is beating his wife but my girl holds me back. Part of me is thinking of hitting the guy myself, but then the other part, the one that says "Don't get involved." is starting to win.
"Let me just look into the hallway." I tell my girl
I look at her face. She is genuinely afraid. It's a bullshit, no win situation for both of us, but I can't sleep, knowing that some asshole is kicking the shit out of his wife in the next room.
I open the door and look down the hall. Almost every door is open, and all of the neighbors are doing the same thing I am. Just peeking out of their doorway and listening to the violent lullaby. I make eye contact with another male neighbor, who's wife is also holding him back from acting in some heroic way. We nod to each other and then shake our heads every time the man yells out Hia! in Thai. My girl is holding my wrist like an anchor, to prevent me getting involved, but I shake her loose and step out into the hall. Like a meek herd of buffalo who slowly gain courage to chase off the lions eating their young, some of the men in the building, even ones from upstairs and down, are coming to the wife beating party. The faces say it all. What to do? My girl tells me that she thinks the wife beater is a policeman, so calling the police to help will be of no avail. I tell her to call them anyway, thinking that this piece of shit next door would be an embarrassment to the Thai police if he actually kills her.
In my own country this would be solved quickly, but I am a farang, in Thailand, and they play by different rules here. I knock on the neighbors door anyway.
The crying stops, and the room is silent. The herd of buffalo in the hallway waits for several minutes and no further sounds come from the room. It's as if your neighbor had his TV on too loud and you knocked on the wall, and he just took it as a sign to keep the volume down, and did so accordingly.
I hesitate to knock again. If he is a cop, then I don't want a gun to my face when he opens the door. We wait some more and there is nothing happening inside the room. I look at the rest of the neighbors who have gathered and we all go back to our apartments.
Back in our room we begin watching TV again. Now the wall to our room is getting knocked by the tell tale signs of a beds head board and the creaking of its springs. Maybe the beating was just his form of foreplay prior to spousal rape...I don't know. A few minutes later, the ghetto fights and orgasms die down, and the night envelopes us in it's peace.
My girl turns to me in bed and looks me in the eyes.
"You never do the same to me?" She asks.
"What? Hit you? Never. Why would I ever hit you?"
"I don't know. Just asking. My boyfriend before hit me sometime." She says to me so nonchalantly, as though it was an expected part of the relationship.
"I promise i will never be like that guy next door. OK?"
"OK. Thank you honey." She says. She kisses me goodnight and puts and arm over my chest. Soon after, she is sound asleep.
Nice dating a girl with such low standards....
I stare at the ceiling, and watch the lizards run across the walls. The TV show has turned into a Thai soap opera, in which, during the opening credits, there is a montage of women crying, and getting slapped by their men. The age old question of Anti-mimesis crosses my mind. Now this room has lost it's comfort for me. It no longer feels like a home. I can now understand why my girl wanted the ghost doctor to come and cast away it's bad vibes. I see this room as something sinister now, and decide to relocate to a new place for the both of us. Maybe something with a few less roaches, a place where you don't have to cook on the floor, and a place where ghosts aren't born by the actions of madmen in the next room over.
At 3am, I am awakened by the sound of someone messing with our door. I try to wake up my girl but as I know from previous experience, once she is asleep, it is next to impossible to wake her up. I grab one of her large butcher knives and wait by the door. The door knob is turning slowly back and forth.
"Arai Na?" I say loudly. It means what? In Thai, but with the right intonation it sounds more like "What the fuck do you want?". The door knob stops turning, and after a log pause, I hear footsteps slowly dragging down the hall. Then it is quiet.
I have never seen the man or woman next door to this day. I try to picture their faces, if they have faces at all. For now, they too, are simply ghosts in my memory,
My girls words repeat over again in my head..."Never open door past ten o' cok...never open door past ten o' cok..."
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Hell has no bottom
The old lady with no teeth smiles at me, and waves for me to come closer. I am only a short distance away but I can smell her already. Her odor is a melange of moth balls, fish sauce, and urine. I imagine that she doesn't keep her private area very clean while living on the streets of Bangkok, and probably pees herself either deliberately because she is insane, or maybe she just has a urinary tract infection. For some odd reason, I try to picture her naked (as I do with most women I first meet), then I shudder with the mental image I conjure up. She is asking me for money. My girlfriend tells me to ignore her, as we make our way into Hua lamphong temple to make offerings to the Buddha.
The Temple is simply beautiful. Actually, it is not simple at all. If anything it is grandiose, and massive. As we pass the urine lady, we enter the ground level chamber where I am apparently supposed to burn incense, ring bells, and then give money (200 Baht). I don't exactly know what I am, or my girlfriend is praying for, but I play along because this seems to make her happy.
Then we do something else that is for the poor people who don't have money for a proper burial (500 Baht) buying them boxes for their ashes or something like that. Then we go outside and my girl asks me if I want to pray for my family. Sure, why not? She hands me 5 pieces of paper and tells me to write the names of my loved ones on each one. I do, and then I am instructed to place them on some sort of tile that is used to make a roof for a miniature temple (100 baht).
- You want to have lucky day everyday? My girl asks me.
-Yeah, I guess so.
- Ok you see those jars? There is one for each day of the week. You have to count out baht for each day and put in jar.
I don't fucking remember the order but it was like 15 Baht for Monday, 17 Baht for Tuesday, 22 Baht for Wednesday, etc. I takes at least ten minutes to count out the single Baht coins and put them in the jars. You have to put them in one at a time. I'm wondering if it was this fucking expensive to be a Buddhist back when Buddha was alive.
Then it's time to take gold leaf and stick them on the various Buddha statues (maybe 300 Baht).
I ask my girl why we are putting gold leaf on the Buddha statues but I didn't give any money to the piss-soaked homeless lady outside. She tells me the temples are what makes Thailand so beautiful. You have to honor the Buddha first, then think of others, and then yourself.
Ahh...I see.
We spend 2 hours at the temple. I don't feel any more enlightened or at peace. I am simply 1,000 Baht poorer. My girl is in a state of religious ecstasy though. Hey, If she's happy, then I'm happy. I have read much of the Buddhist literature out there and I dig it's take on simplicity, and the middle path. I follow Buddhist philosophy, but I am not religious by any means, and my moral compass is often times broken. I am ethical however, and something is just not sitting with me right about any of this. It reminds me too much of the Catholic bullshit I grew up with. Beautiful churches that require endless amounts of cash. I have deep admiration for the artistic value of these temples, and just consider my donation today as part of it's upkeep.
As we leave the temple we pass the homeless lady again. My girl tells me to give her 10 Baht. I open my wallet and pull out a thousand Baht note.
-What are you doing? My girl asks.
-Giving the lady some money.
-No honey! You give too much. Only give her ten Baht.
-Why? I just gave over a thousand so I could ring some bells and put gold on a statue.
-Yes, but she here every day. She going to get big money from everybody.
As I go to hand the money to the homeless lady, my girl dives in front of me like a Secret Service agent protecting the president. You can almost here the Noooooooooo!!!!!
It's too late. The feeble old woman's hands come to life and she snatches the note from my hand with ninja like reflexes. She briefly touches me during our exchange, leaving an oily residue on my fingers.
Whatever radar the homless beggars have built into them sounds off, and soon we are surrounded. I look at the many faces around me. Some look like disheveled drunks, others are missing limbs, one guy in particular seems to be missing most of his nose. They all meekly put out their hands to me -- Mr. Moneybags.
I point them towards the urine lady I just gave the thousand baht to.
-Ter mii nyun. (she has the money) I tell the horde.
The homeless horde looks at urine lady, urine lady looks at me, and then I look at my girlfriend.
-How do you say share the money in Thai? I ask her
My girl spits out a machine gun riff in the Isaan dialect that I can't understand.
-Ok, I tell them. Now we go.
The horde approaches the urine lady. The whole street is watching her karma unfold. Will the beggar share her windfall with the others? Her face says it all. Simply -- what the fuck? The horde and urine lady stare at the bill in her hand like a group of cave men scratching their heads about what to do.
We leave this great karmic question unanswered, and start walking towards the train station. My girl won't talk to me. She is quiet when she is angry. I open my wallet, take out all of my money and hand it to her.
-From now on, you're the boss. I tell her.
My girl looks at the wad of cash, and puts it into her purse. She smiles her little devil smile, and finally holds my hand.
-I love you. She tells me.
Interesting what money can buy these days....
The Temple is simply beautiful. Actually, it is not simple at all. If anything it is grandiose, and massive. As we pass the urine lady, we enter the ground level chamber where I am apparently supposed to burn incense, ring bells, and then give money (200 Baht). I don't exactly know what I am, or my girlfriend is praying for, but I play along because this seems to make her happy.
Then we do something else that is for the poor people who don't have money for a proper burial (500 Baht) buying them boxes for their ashes or something like that. Then we go outside and my girl asks me if I want to pray for my family. Sure, why not? She hands me 5 pieces of paper and tells me to write the names of my loved ones on each one. I do, and then I am instructed to place them on some sort of tile that is used to make a roof for a miniature temple (100 baht).
- You want to have lucky day everyday? My girl asks me.
-Yeah, I guess so.
- Ok you see those jars? There is one for each day of the week. You have to count out baht for each day and put in jar.
I don't fucking remember the order but it was like 15 Baht for Monday, 17 Baht for Tuesday, 22 Baht for Wednesday, etc. I takes at least ten minutes to count out the single Baht coins and put them in the jars. You have to put them in one at a time. I'm wondering if it was this fucking expensive to be a Buddhist back when Buddha was alive.
Then it's time to take gold leaf and stick them on the various Buddha statues (maybe 300 Baht).
I ask my girl why we are putting gold leaf on the Buddha statues but I didn't give any money to the piss-soaked homeless lady outside. She tells me the temples are what makes Thailand so beautiful. You have to honor the Buddha first, then think of others, and then yourself.
Ahh...I see.
We spend 2 hours at the temple. I don't feel any more enlightened or at peace. I am simply 1,000 Baht poorer. My girl is in a state of religious ecstasy though. Hey, If she's happy, then I'm happy. I have read much of the Buddhist literature out there and I dig it's take on simplicity, and the middle path. I follow Buddhist philosophy, but I am not religious by any means, and my moral compass is often times broken. I am ethical however, and something is just not sitting with me right about any of this. It reminds me too much of the Catholic bullshit I grew up with. Beautiful churches that require endless amounts of cash. I have deep admiration for the artistic value of these temples, and just consider my donation today as part of it's upkeep.
As we leave the temple we pass the homeless lady again. My girl tells me to give her 10 Baht. I open my wallet and pull out a thousand Baht note.
-What are you doing? My girl asks.
-Giving the lady some money.
-No honey! You give too much. Only give her ten Baht.
-Why? I just gave over a thousand so I could ring some bells and put gold on a statue.
-Yes, but she here every day. She going to get big money from everybody.
As I go to hand the money to the homeless lady, my girl dives in front of me like a Secret Service agent protecting the president. You can almost here the Noooooooooo!!!!!
It's too late. The feeble old woman's hands come to life and she snatches the note from my hand with ninja like reflexes. She briefly touches me during our exchange, leaving an oily residue on my fingers.
Whatever radar the homless beggars have built into them sounds off, and soon we are surrounded. I look at the many faces around me. Some look like disheveled drunks, others are missing limbs, one guy in particular seems to be missing most of his nose. They all meekly put out their hands to me -- Mr. Moneybags.
I point them towards the urine lady I just gave the thousand baht to.
-Ter mii nyun. (she has the money) I tell the horde.
The homeless horde looks at urine lady, urine lady looks at me, and then I look at my girlfriend.
-How do you say share the money in Thai? I ask her
My girl spits out a machine gun riff in the Isaan dialect that I can't understand.
-Ok, I tell them. Now we go.
The horde approaches the urine lady. The whole street is watching her karma unfold. Will the beggar share her windfall with the others? Her face says it all. Simply -- what the fuck? The horde and urine lady stare at the bill in her hand like a group of cave men scratching their heads about what to do.
We leave this great karmic question unanswered, and start walking towards the train station. My girl won't talk to me. She is quiet when she is angry. I open my wallet, take out all of my money and hand it to her.
-From now on, you're the boss. I tell her.
My girl looks at the wad of cash, and puts it into her purse. She smiles her little devil smile, and finally holds my hand.
-I love you. She tells me.
Interesting what money can buy these days....
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Amor Fati
Waiting for my luggage at Suvarnabhumi airport in Bangkok. The man next to me is an unusual sight in these parts. He is pure East LA Cholo; decked out in Dickies shorts, wife beater, knee-high white socks, and a Dodgers hat. As I scan him, he gives me the "What's up homie?" nod.
-Long fuckn flight huh? The Vato asks.
-Yeah man. Really fuckn long.
-You from LA?
-Yeah, Redondo Beach.
-Cool man.
-How bout you? I ask him.
-You know Monterey Park?
-Yeah man. Been out there before.
-No. For Reals?
-Yeah, dated a Mexican girl out there before.
-Cool
-First time in Bangkok? I ask him.
-Nah man, this is my fourth trip this year.
-No shit?
-How bout you? He asks.
-My third trip. I got a lady out here.
-Don't we all, huh? I fuckn hate American women. He says
-I feel you man. (I'm trying my best to channel my best Homie/Vato lingo, but I come across whiter than ever. He is somewhat trying to channel West Side white boy. We meet in the middle somewhere.)
-Seriously bro. My girl is so fuckn good to me. She's hot as fuck, and treats me like a king and shit. She's waitn for me outside.
-Me too. I tell him
Having established our mutual disdain for American women, we wait in silence for our luggage. I scan the Vato again, taking in his gang tattoos. He did time in prison. I can just tell. Years of training Muay Thai to both cops and crooks I guess.
His teeth are clenched and he seems nervous as his bags arrive. He waits for a few minutes, as though he's waiting for me, and then when mine arrive we begin walking together. Vato seems wound up. I start to deliberately lag behind and give him a wide berth as we approach the police x-ray machine. He takes a deep breath and approaches the police. The cops simply wave him on, and then wave me on too. Relief seems to pass over him. I ask the cops where the restroom is, and go to where they point. Inside, Vato is running cold water over his shaved head.
We resume our talk on our way to the exit.
-Where you stayin? He asks
-Bang Kapi, then Sisaket.
-Where's that?
-It's out in Butt Fuck Egypt. I tell him
-Nothn wrong with the BFE man. My lady's from way the fuck out there too.
The Vato's eyes light up.
-There's my girl. He points
I look ahead at the faces in the arrival section. It is a microcosm of Thailand itself: Ordinary folks, business people, bar girls awaiting their time share boyfriends, and the ubiquitous ladyboy. One girl looks like she got hit in the face with a shovel and tried to cover the wreckage with blue eye shadow. She's the one who Vato is elated to see.
Vato gives Shovel Face a big hug. She tenderly holds his face in her hands and gives him a "hom joop", or sniff kiss. Vato introduces me to her, and I give her a wai. It's hard to look at her face, lest a micro-expression of disgust crosses my face and fuck up my greeting. I can't tell if she is deformed or was in some sort of accident. Vato is a fairly handsome homie, and the two of them don't seem a likely pair. Then again, I'm a fat fuck, and I still don't know what my girl sees in me.
The Vato and Shovel Face hold hands and walk with me until I see my lady.
-There's my chick. I say proudly, then feel like an asshole for my one-upmanship.
My girl is waiting for me in tight jeans, high heels, and a T-shirt depicting a monkey with his middle finger up. Classy...
She opens her mouth before I can say anything.
-Oi! I wait for so long. You say plane come at ten o' cok. Now it two o' cok in morning! Why you make me come early if plane going to be late?
-I'm sorry baby. I tell her.
She continues her greeting.
-It very hot. Now I tired and want to sleep already. Hurry up. We go now. I don't eat dinner because I wait for you.
-I didn't eat dinner either. I say.
-You fat. You don't need dinner.
I move towards my girl for a hug, but she wiggles away from me.
-You stink. She tells me.
I turn towards vato. He has his arm around the waist of Shovel Face. Their faces appear to be glowing.
-I'll leave you two alone. Have a good trip bro. He says.
We shake hands and then Vato leads Shovel Face out of the airport.
I turn back to my girl.
-Thanks. I was going to inroduce you to a friend of mine from LA but you just start yelling at me and complaining as soon as I see you.
-That your friend? My girl asks
-Yeah
-What he name?
-Ummm....his nickname is Vato
-He Mexico?
-Yeah, he Mexico. I say.
-That he girlfriend?
-Yeah. She very nice to him. When she see him, she give him big hug and nice to him. You just yell at me that you wait so long.
My girl shrugs.
-Ok. You want to trade girlfriend with he? Or you want to shut up and maybe I nice to you tomorrow?
I lower my head. After a 17 hour flight, I know I can't win this.
-I guess I'll shut up and wait for you to be nicer to me tomorrow. I say.
-OK. Then let's get taxi and go hotel. Maybe you lucky, and I don't make you sleep on floor tonight.
With that, we walk out of the airport and into the familiar heat of Thailand. My girl begins telling a cab driver where to go in the Issan dialect. I can see her skin has become darker since last time I saw her, from working on the farm. I catch a glimpse of the flawless brown skin on her belly as her T-shirt with the fuck you monkey on it rises slightly. I study her cheek bones, and her silky black hair. The Screamin Jay Hawkins song "I put a spell on you" pops into my head.
Inside the Taxi, my girl puts her legs across mine and falls asleep. My sense of self is renewed. I am a foot stool for all of the beauties that have come and gone in my life. I think about Vato and shovel face, and the affection they had. Then I watch my angry angel sleeping soundly. Knowing full well that I have a good thing even when it's bad.
-Long fuckn flight huh? The Vato asks.
-Yeah man. Really fuckn long.
-You from LA?
-Yeah, Redondo Beach.
-Cool man.
-How bout you? I ask him.
-You know Monterey Park?
-Yeah man. Been out there before.
-No. For Reals?
-Yeah, dated a Mexican girl out there before.
-Cool
-First time in Bangkok? I ask him.
-Nah man, this is my fourth trip this year.
-No shit?
-How bout you? He asks.
-My third trip. I got a lady out here.
-Don't we all, huh? I fuckn hate American women. He says
-I feel you man. (I'm trying my best to channel my best Homie/Vato lingo, but I come across whiter than ever. He is somewhat trying to channel West Side white boy. We meet in the middle somewhere.)
-Seriously bro. My girl is so fuckn good to me. She's hot as fuck, and treats me like a king and shit. She's waitn for me outside.
-Me too. I tell him
Having established our mutual disdain for American women, we wait in silence for our luggage. I scan the Vato again, taking in his gang tattoos. He did time in prison. I can just tell. Years of training Muay Thai to both cops and crooks I guess.
His teeth are clenched and he seems nervous as his bags arrive. He waits for a few minutes, as though he's waiting for me, and then when mine arrive we begin walking together. Vato seems wound up. I start to deliberately lag behind and give him a wide berth as we approach the police x-ray machine. He takes a deep breath and approaches the police. The cops simply wave him on, and then wave me on too. Relief seems to pass over him. I ask the cops where the restroom is, and go to where they point. Inside, Vato is running cold water over his shaved head.
We resume our talk on our way to the exit.
-Where you stayin? He asks
-Bang Kapi, then Sisaket.
-Where's that?
-It's out in Butt Fuck Egypt. I tell him
-Nothn wrong with the BFE man. My lady's from way the fuck out there too.
The Vato's eyes light up.
-There's my girl. He points
I look ahead at the faces in the arrival section. It is a microcosm of Thailand itself: Ordinary folks, business people, bar girls awaiting their time share boyfriends, and the ubiquitous ladyboy. One girl looks like she got hit in the face with a shovel and tried to cover the wreckage with blue eye shadow. She's the one who Vato is elated to see.
Vato gives Shovel Face a big hug. She tenderly holds his face in her hands and gives him a "hom joop", or sniff kiss. Vato introduces me to her, and I give her a wai. It's hard to look at her face, lest a micro-expression of disgust crosses my face and fuck up my greeting. I can't tell if she is deformed or was in some sort of accident. Vato is a fairly handsome homie, and the two of them don't seem a likely pair. Then again, I'm a fat fuck, and I still don't know what my girl sees in me.
The Vato and Shovel Face hold hands and walk with me until I see my lady.
-There's my chick. I say proudly, then feel like an asshole for my one-upmanship.
My girl is waiting for me in tight jeans, high heels, and a T-shirt depicting a monkey with his middle finger up. Classy...
She opens her mouth before I can say anything.
-Oi! I wait for so long. You say plane come at ten o' cok. Now it two o' cok in morning! Why you make me come early if plane going to be late?
-I'm sorry baby. I tell her.
She continues her greeting.
-It very hot. Now I tired and want to sleep already. Hurry up. We go now. I don't eat dinner because I wait for you.
-I didn't eat dinner either. I say.
-You fat. You don't need dinner.
I move towards my girl for a hug, but she wiggles away from me.
-You stink. She tells me.
I turn towards vato. He has his arm around the waist of Shovel Face. Their faces appear to be glowing.
-I'll leave you two alone. Have a good trip bro. He says.
We shake hands and then Vato leads Shovel Face out of the airport.
I turn back to my girl.
-Thanks. I was going to inroduce you to a friend of mine from LA but you just start yelling at me and complaining as soon as I see you.
-That your friend? My girl asks
-Yeah
-What he name?
-Ummm....his nickname is Vato
-He Mexico?
-Yeah, he Mexico. I say.
-That he girlfriend?
-Yeah. She very nice to him. When she see him, she give him big hug and nice to him. You just yell at me that you wait so long.
My girl shrugs.
-Ok. You want to trade girlfriend with he? Or you want to shut up and maybe I nice to you tomorrow?
I lower my head. After a 17 hour flight, I know I can't win this.
-I guess I'll shut up and wait for you to be nicer to me tomorrow. I say.
-OK. Then let's get taxi and go hotel. Maybe you lucky, and I don't make you sleep on floor tonight.
With that, we walk out of the airport and into the familiar heat of Thailand. My girl begins telling a cab driver where to go in the Issan dialect. I can see her skin has become darker since last time I saw her, from working on the farm. I catch a glimpse of the flawless brown skin on her belly as her T-shirt with the fuck you monkey on it rises slightly. I study her cheek bones, and her silky black hair. The Screamin Jay Hawkins song "I put a spell on you" pops into my head.
Inside the Taxi, my girl puts her legs across mine and falls asleep. My sense of self is renewed. I am a foot stool for all of the beauties that have come and gone in my life. I think about Vato and shovel face, and the affection they had. Then I watch my angry angel sleeping soundly. Knowing full well that I have a good thing even when it's bad.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Death warmed over
The girl with the skeleton body leaned towards me at the bar. She was well past her sell by date. Garish makeup, cheap knock-off purse, and a gaudy plastic belt with a giant buckle that seemed to cover most of her torso. I couldn't identify the smell coming from her. It was a miasma of smoke, cheap perfume, and the remnants of her last few customers aftershave. This bar was the stripper graveyard. My girlfriend chose it specially for me because I said I wanted to go drink and look at girls, so she chose a bar with the ugliest women possible.
There were few customers in this place. The ones that were here simply starred into their drinks. Up on the stage was the line up. Women who had been in the biz way too long and wore their battle scars on their stomachs in the form of stretch marks. After one beer I was ready to leave.
"Where's you're girlfriend?" The skeleton asks me.
"She went to the rest room."
"She been gone a long time. Maybe she leave you."
My girl had been gone a long time. At least 20 minutes. She has a habit of saying she is going someplace, and then just takes off to buy food from the market. I am thinking she left me here because she knows there is no way I would go home with one of these girls.
I offer the skeleton 100 Baht to use her cel phone so I can call her.
"OK, and you buy me lady drink."
Deal
I tell the Skeleton the number and she dials the phone. My girl answers, and instead of handing me the phone, the skeleton begins talking to her.
They are both speaking in the Issan dialect, which I only understand slightly. I keep waiting for the skeleton to give me the phone but she hangs up.
"What's up? I wanted to talk to my girl. What did you say to her?"
The skeleton begins laughing. "I tell her you my boyfriend now and you not want to see her anymore."
"No, really, what did you say? Where is she?"
"Yes, really, I say you my boyfriend now. She say OK you can have all the fun you want and she go back home."
I try not to lose my temper. Losing it at a bar in Thailand is generally a bad idea. I'm pretty sure I can take the bouncers in a fight, but I don't want to end up in a Thai prison if the boys in brown come.
I look into the skeletons eyes. She's definitely on Yaa Baa, the Thai equivalent of Crystal Meth, which would explain her physique. Either that or AIDS.
"Can you call her back please? That's not funny. Mai talok. You understand?"
The skeleton puts her hand on my leg. "I want to take you to hotel. Then I want to kill you in your sleep, and take your money."
Her giggle is that of the possessed, or the insane. I assume she is trying to disarm me by stating what I am thinking when it is actually the truth. Similar to joking with a friend that you are banging his wife, when you really are.
"Look, I have no money to steal. I'm key nok, (literally bird shit, which is a euphemism for cheapskate) call her back and I'll give you 200 Baht."
The skeleton hits the redial button, and my girl picks up the phone. The skeleton begins talking to her again.
I try and snatch the phone from her hand but she holds it away from me, and we begin to scuffle. Now the whole bar is looking at us and the bouncers are heading over. The skeleton hands me the phone politely and tries to compose herself. She waves the bouncers away before they get to us.
"Honey, where are you?"
I just hear sniffling on the other end of the line.
"I don't know what that crazy girl said to you but it's not true. Where are you?"
"I go to buy kanom (snacks), and let you have fun."
"OK, fun's over, come back and get me, I'll wait outside."
more sniffling...
"OK, I come get you soon."
Now I feel like an asshole.
I give the skeleton back her phone, and start to leave.
"You give me 300 Baht, and pay for drink." She says
Fuck it. Just pay it and go. I hand the Skeleton her money, and then notice the scar on her wrist as she reaches for it. Most likely self-inflicted, but I am way past giving a shit. She sees me looking at her scar.
"Monk tell me my next life going to be good one, so one time I try to go to next life early."
I don't know if she's aware that in Buddhism, suicide isn't exactly the fast track to a good rebirth. Then again, after looking at her, anything would be considered a step up.
Outside, it is Friday night on Soi 4. Alcoholic zombies dragging their girls through piles of garbage and vomit. The street is littered with the detritus of food stalls. A cat sits patiently, starring up at lizard on a vendors umbrella.
The cat waits next to me while I wait for my girl to arrive. It is the only snapshot I take that evening. Punters in the bar areas get a little touchy if you take photos of them.
People watching on Soi 4 is some of the best in the world. If anything, for the sense that at least I'm not THAT guy. Holy fucking shit. If you ever need a boost to your self-esteem, go to Soi 4 and look around for an hour or two.
My girl arrives after 20 minutes, carrying several bags of food. I am expecting her to be mad at me but she is all smiles.
"Honey, you like mango?"
"Yeah, sure. Why'd you leave me there for so long? I had to pay that crazy lady 300 Baht to call you?"
"You pay her 300 Baht? OK, I go get it back for you."
"No, just forget it. I wanna go."
"It OK, I go get back for you."
My girl hands me the bags of food and enters the bar. I am expecting a cat fight to erupt, but she emerges from the bar a few minutes later along with the skeleton.
The skeleton puts her hands together and wai's me. I wai back.
"OK, we go now." My girl says.
We start walking down Soi 4 towards the sky train. The cat and lizard are both gone.
"Did you get the money back?"
"Yes I get it. I hold for you OK?"
"What'd you say to her?"
"Nothing. Just ask for money back and she give."
"That's it?"
"I also say why you charge my boyfriend 300 Baht for phone call when I already give you 300 Baht to watch him for me?"
Little fucker.
"You paid that girl to talk to me?"
"Yes."
Nothing more needed to be said. My sneaky little shit girlfriend paid the skeleton to talk to me so the other girls would leave me alone.
"You know, that girl said she wanted to kill me in my sleep."
"Really? Aww...no, she say it wrong. I tell her to say she going to cut off your banana instead."
We walk to the skytrain and head back to our hotel. The motion of the train makes my girl fall asleep on my shoulder. I can see her reflection in the window opposite us. I am still in love with her. Just a lot more afraid.
There were few customers in this place. The ones that were here simply starred into their drinks. Up on the stage was the line up. Women who had been in the biz way too long and wore their battle scars on their stomachs in the form of stretch marks. After one beer I was ready to leave.
"Where's you're girlfriend?" The skeleton asks me.
"She went to the rest room."
"She been gone a long time. Maybe she leave you."
My girl had been gone a long time. At least 20 minutes. She has a habit of saying she is going someplace, and then just takes off to buy food from the market. I am thinking she left me here because she knows there is no way I would go home with one of these girls.
I offer the skeleton 100 Baht to use her cel phone so I can call her.
"OK, and you buy me lady drink."
Deal
I tell the Skeleton the number and she dials the phone. My girl answers, and instead of handing me the phone, the skeleton begins talking to her.
They are both speaking in the Issan dialect, which I only understand slightly. I keep waiting for the skeleton to give me the phone but she hangs up.
"What's up? I wanted to talk to my girl. What did you say to her?"
The skeleton begins laughing. "I tell her you my boyfriend now and you not want to see her anymore."
"No, really, what did you say? Where is she?"
"Yes, really, I say you my boyfriend now. She say OK you can have all the fun you want and she go back home."
I try not to lose my temper. Losing it at a bar in Thailand is generally a bad idea. I'm pretty sure I can take the bouncers in a fight, but I don't want to end up in a Thai prison if the boys in brown come.
I look into the skeletons eyes. She's definitely on Yaa Baa, the Thai equivalent of Crystal Meth, which would explain her physique. Either that or AIDS.
"Can you call her back please? That's not funny. Mai talok. You understand?"
The skeleton puts her hand on my leg. "I want to take you to hotel. Then I want to kill you in your sleep, and take your money."
Her giggle is that of the possessed, or the insane. I assume she is trying to disarm me by stating what I am thinking when it is actually the truth. Similar to joking with a friend that you are banging his wife, when you really are.
"Look, I have no money to steal. I'm key nok, (literally bird shit, which is a euphemism for cheapskate) call her back and I'll give you 200 Baht."
The skeleton hits the redial button, and my girl picks up the phone. The skeleton begins talking to her again.
I try and snatch the phone from her hand but she holds it away from me, and we begin to scuffle. Now the whole bar is looking at us and the bouncers are heading over. The skeleton hands me the phone politely and tries to compose herself. She waves the bouncers away before they get to us.
"Honey, where are you?"
I just hear sniffling on the other end of the line.
"I don't know what that crazy girl said to you but it's not true. Where are you?"
"I go to buy kanom (snacks), and let you have fun."
"OK, fun's over, come back and get me, I'll wait outside."
more sniffling...
"OK, I come get you soon."
Now I feel like an asshole.
I give the skeleton back her phone, and start to leave.
"You give me 300 Baht, and pay for drink." She says
Fuck it. Just pay it and go. I hand the Skeleton her money, and then notice the scar on her wrist as she reaches for it. Most likely self-inflicted, but I am way past giving a shit. She sees me looking at her scar.
"Monk tell me my next life going to be good one, so one time I try to go to next life early."
I don't know if she's aware that in Buddhism, suicide isn't exactly the fast track to a good rebirth. Then again, after looking at her, anything would be considered a step up.
Outside, it is Friday night on Soi 4. Alcoholic zombies dragging their girls through piles of garbage and vomit. The street is littered with the detritus of food stalls. A cat sits patiently, starring up at lizard on a vendors umbrella.
The cat waits next to me while I wait for my girl to arrive. It is the only snapshot I take that evening. Punters in the bar areas get a little touchy if you take photos of them.
People watching on Soi 4 is some of the best in the world. If anything, for the sense that at least I'm not THAT guy. Holy fucking shit. If you ever need a boost to your self-esteem, go to Soi 4 and look around for an hour or two.
My girl arrives after 20 minutes, carrying several bags of food. I am expecting her to be mad at me but she is all smiles.
"Honey, you like mango?"
"Yeah, sure. Why'd you leave me there for so long? I had to pay that crazy lady 300 Baht to call you?"
"You pay her 300 Baht? OK, I go get it back for you."
"No, just forget it. I wanna go."
"It OK, I go get back for you."
My girl hands me the bags of food and enters the bar. I am expecting a cat fight to erupt, but she emerges from the bar a few minutes later along with the skeleton.
The skeleton puts her hands together and wai's me. I wai back.
"OK, we go now." My girl says.
We start walking down Soi 4 towards the sky train. The cat and lizard are both gone.
"Did you get the money back?"
"Yes I get it. I hold for you OK?"
"What'd you say to her?"
"Nothing. Just ask for money back and she give."
"That's it?"
"I also say why you charge my boyfriend 300 Baht for phone call when I already give you 300 Baht to watch him for me?"
Little fucker.
"You paid that girl to talk to me?"
"Yes."
Nothing more needed to be said. My sneaky little shit girlfriend paid the skeleton to talk to me so the other girls would leave me alone.
"You know, that girl said she wanted to kill me in my sleep."
"Really? Aww...no, she say it wrong. I tell her to say she going to cut off your banana instead."
We walk to the skytrain and head back to our hotel. The motion of the train makes my girl fall asleep on my shoulder. I can see her reflection in the window opposite us. I am still in love with her. Just a lot more afraid.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Save the last bullet for yourself
Another long fucking bus ride. 17 hours from Phnom Pen Cambodia to Bangkok. I try to find a seat with nobody next to me, but my search is in vain. This time I am solo. My lady friend has gone on to visit her family in Laos. Our man in Cambodia waved goodbye to me, and wished me luck. Not that it's hard to sit on a bus. There are no more fears of Khmer Rouge Guerrillas hijacking the bus and cutting off my head, which was a very real possibility 10 years ago. The only real worry is sitting next to someone who won't shut the fuck up while I am trying to read.
I have never won the lottery. I have never won anything for that matter. Cancer? Yeah, I'd win that. Drugged and left for dead? Yep, already happened. Sit next to a 70 year old Christian missionary on a 17 hour bus ride? Jackpot!
Let's call her Ethel...outdated jeans, flowery shirt, curly hair, and expanding waist line which she cleverly hides by pulling her jeans almost all the way up to her throat. Subtle, yet ostentatious crucifix hanging around her neck -- that falls between her breasts, which are, as I notice, smaller than her stomach. Harsh huh? Stay with me...
I can feel Ethel is trying to size me up through her peripheral vision. I know she is dying to talk, so I bury my nose in my book. I don't need to be Sherlock fucking Holmes to figure out that she is a Missionary. She has prominently displayed her Bible on her lap, along with several religious pamphlets depicting some sort of rapturous event on the cover. I am minding my own biz. Just another dipshit who couldn't afford a plane ticket straight to Bangkok. I also pull out my Buddhist amulet from underneath my T-shirt and let it hang between my man boobs, which are also smaller than my stomach (you see? Self-effacing humor to balance out my rip on Ethel, so fuck you Ethel).
Her opening line is rather ham-handed...
"Would you like to read a book on forgiveness?"
I pretend not to have heard her.
She taps my arm.
"Excuse me." She whispers, as if to lessen her intrusion.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I can see you are reading. Do you like to read?"
"Try to."
"May I ask what you are reading?"
"History."
"Oh really? History of Cambodia maybe?"
"Nope."
"Oh."
I can be fairly anti-social if I want to. I roll up my sleeves to show more tattoo. Like a dumb ass I chose a Japanese motif, replete with pink cherry blossoms, and flowing water patterns. Rather non-threatening. Now I am kicking myself for not going with the gangster prison style.
"Oh my, your tattoos are lovely. Are those Japanese?"
"Yep."
"Did you get those in Japan?"
"Nope."
"Where did you get those?"
"San Diego." Fuck! I fucked up....
Ethel turns what she can of her large ass in her seat so she is facing me.
"Are you from San Diego?"
"Nope." I sigh heavily. The sigh that says please shut the fuck up.
I'm fucked though. Ethel has wormed her way in.
"Where are you from?"
"Chicago...originally"
"And where are you now?"
"L.A."
"Oh my, Los Angeles is beautiful."
"It's a shithole. I fucking hate it."
"I'm sorry?"
"LA, it's a fucking shithole. I wish somebody would bomb it already. Just blow it the fuck up."
Ethel straightens up her posture and sits facing forward again. Ahh...Silence. That should buy me at least a few hours. Ten minutes later, she turns to me again.
"So what brings you to Cambodia?"
"Drugs and hookers."
Ehtel doesn't miss a beat. She hastens to give me one of her religious tracts.
"You are exactly the man I want to talk to!"
Mother fucker...
"Did you ever think of the repercussions of your actions here in Cambodia, and of the victimization of the women you exploit?"
"I'm just bullshitting you. I was here to see Angkor Wat with some friends."
Ethel raises a judgmental eyebrow. A skill honed from years of being a Christian missionary.
"Really now? What else were you doing?"
I put my book down, turn to her and give her the evil eye. It has zero effect. She is under the holy light of God, and He is her protector and guide. Every one of her actions has been sanctified from on high.
"You know, to be honest, I don't need to explain myself to you. So if you wouldn't mind, could we just please end this conversation? I'm not trying to be rude. I just really want to finish my book."
Ethel takes a kinder tone.
"I'm sorry, we got off to a bad start. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. You must think I'm some crazy lady."
"Yeah, with like ten cats right?" Ha ha.
"How'd you know?" she laughs, then under her breath she starts praying for me. Something to the effect of "Heavenly father please guide this lost soul out of the darkness into the light. Please Lord Jesus save this man from himself."
Shit. Sounds like my own prayers to myself every night. Minus the Jesus part.
Ethel begins again..."Well, you are probably wondering about what I'm doing in Cambodia right?"
I shake my head horizontally, apparently not overtly enough.
"I'm here as part of a group that finds alternative jobs for girls who are forced into the sex trade."
Ethel has genuinely piqued my interest. A topic that enthralls me.
"No kidding? What sort of alternative jobs do you find for them?"
"Well, when we meet an exploited girl, we teach her how to farm, how to cut hair, do nails, maybe find her a job cleaning a hotel or something."
"Yeah? How's that working out?"
"Oh, well, you know. It works with the older gals, but the young ones are harder to get through to."
"You mean the old ladies who nobody wants to sleep with anymore go for it, but the young attractive ones don't?"
"Not quite that simple but basically yes."
"Ah."
"Now, I'm not saying you frequent prostitutes, but if you do, or maybe if you have friends that do, it would be great if you could hand them out my cards."
Ethel hands me her business card.
"Ok, well, I'll keep that in mind."
For some vague reason, I feel it necessary to justify my trip to this parasite.
"I have a girlfriend in Thailand, by the way. Gonna get married soon."
"Oh, congratulations. How did you meet her?"
"She worked at a restaurant near the Muay Thai gym I train at."
"Muay thai? Oh yes. That fight ing stuff. So violent. Brrr." She shakes.
Now it's my turn.
"Can I ask you a question?" I ask
"Sure. Anything."
"Have you ever done what they call cock math with these girls?"
"What?"
"Cock math. It's really simple. You ask a girl why she started working. She's gonna say the usual thing like support my family or build a home for her parents. You then ask her how long she's been working, how many days per week, how many customers per day, etcetera. Then you ask her how much money she has saved. She will probably look at you with a blank face and then say she hasn't saved anything. Because bargirls just blow all their money on cel phones, clothes and other bullshit. So you just add it up for her and do the cock math. For instance, let's say she worked for two years, five days a week, at two customers per day..that would be..."
Ethel arrives at the number before I do. So I suck at math. Big deal.
"One thousand and forty." She says.
"Yeah, that's a lot of cocks. Tell her that big ass number, and then tell her she slept with over one thousand men and has absolutely nothing to show for it. Then give her your sales pitch about the hair salon. I'm sure you will catch a few with that approach. Just try it."
Ethel is uncomfortable with my over emphasis of the word cock.
"Well, we would have to come up with a better name for it, but I can see how doing the math would help them to understand how they are wasting their lives away. It breaks my heart."
"Yep. Gotta do the cock math with em."
Ethel ponders this and I go back to reading my book.
"May I ask what book you are reading?" She asks.
I turn the book over and show her the cover.
"The Christ Conspiracy." She reads aloud. "Sounds interesting. Is it about Judas and his betrayal of Jesus."
"Nope. It's about how Jesus never existed as a historical figure, and his myth was plagiarized from the Egyptian God Horus. Also how there were sixteen crucified saviors in ancient mythology. All of them were plagiarizations of one another. The Romans simply used the Christ myth to unify the then divided empire under Constantine, believing that a monotheistic religion could be used to justify rule under one emperor. Basically it just says that Christianity is bullshit."
"Oh."
Ethel turns to look out the window. She begins to pray for me again under her breath, and I assume, doing her own cock math in her head.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Scambodia
Dedicated to Haywire...
A few trips back, my lady friend and I, decided to go visit a pal who was living and working in Cambodia. The journey was simple enough. Take a train to the border. cross, and he would meet us there. At the train station in Bangkok, I was stoked to see a original "Orient Express" train sitting on the tracks. It's history is legendary. It was not to be though, and we were directed to one of the non-air conditioned cattle cars that take the Thai country people back to their homeland.
We are to take this train to the border town of Aranpayet, transfer to a Tuk Tuk, and then cross into Poipet, Cambodia. Easy to remember because Poipet rhymes with toilet.
The train ride itself was third world chic. Wood bench seating, open windows, food vendors, etc. Something about the sway of the train, the countryside, clean air, and $1 price for an 8 hour ride made it tolerable. The strung out looking German couple a few seats up from us had already confirmed what I had suspected. That a lot of drug tourists, finding Thailand dry in comparison, opt for the lax laws on the Cambodian side of the wire. Cambodia is, as I would later find out, a non-extradition treaty country with the USA. Note that in case you are ever on the lam.
My lady friend and I have been platonic buddies for many years. I keep her around, if anything, for the purpose of showing other women that a girl can tolerate my presence for more than five consecutive minutes.
It is good to catch up with her, as she gabs almost as much as I do, and it makes the 8 hours go by relatively quick.
At the border crossing, it was the usual suspects. Hippies, backpackers, Euro-trash, and that one stand out guy, who you just know deep inside, is there to be a pervert. The large posters hanging on the walls don't say "Welcome to Cambodia", instead, they say, in several languages, what amounts to "Please don't fuck our children." That creepy vibe I already had about Cambodia went up a few notches after seeing the signs.
Crossing from Thailand into Cambodia is similar to crossing from San Diego to Tijuana. The chaos hits you like a punch in the face. "Our man in Cambodia" isn't there to meet us yet. Upon calling him, we find out he is hitching a ride in a truck and will meet us in an hour or so, allowing us some time to decompress and take in the border sights. Beautiful, fair-skinned girls pull up on moto-taxis by the droves and enter a casino. Presumably to work as hostesses, judging by their attire. Hawkers sell the endless buffet of bootleg DVDs, fake purses, and rancid meat on a stick. I chain smoke the local brand which has a delightful depiction of a cancer-ridden lung on the package. My friend and I sulk in the mid-day heat, until our contact arrives.
Big bro hugs, and wassup man's? are exchanged, and then our man in Cambodia starts the process of finding us a ride to Siem Reap. While negotiating the price of a car, a man spots me from a fair distance away, and makes a bee line for me.
"Mister Joel! Welcome back to Cambodia!" He says, extending his hand for a shake.
My friends look at me, I look at them, then look back at the guy.
"Huh? No, man, this is my first time here."
"No, you are Mister Joel right?"
"Yeah."
"Yes, you come here, Cambodia before, two years ago, I remember, I take you around."
Now, I must say, I have been hit in the head a lot over the years. I am punch drunk at times, and even suffer from short term memory loss. I have had black outs, I sleep walk, and have other neurological problems, but is it possible that I was here two years ago, and was so fucked up that I have no recollection of it?
"I think you got the wrong guy man."
He insists, and is even incredulous that I don't remember.
"Mister Joel, yes. I meet you two years ago. I remember your tattoo. I take you around before."
My friends look at me. I am wondering to myself, shit, was I here two years ago? He even has me doubting myself.
Our man in Cambodia has haggled a price for a car to Siem Reap. I wave my pal from two years ago away, assuming that this is some sort of complex scam, and jump into the car with my crew.
"What was that about?" My lady friend asks.
"I have no fucking idea. That guy insisted I was here two years ago, which is freaking me out because I was in Thailand two years ago, and I did party a lot. Maybe I got so fucked up I came here and don't remember? My passport would have a stamp though right?"
This incident has since then dubbed me Mister Joel.
I would later learn (just a few months ago) that it is very simple to cross into Cambodia at many un-official checkpoints without a stamp. I have since hiked into Cambodia a few times near my girlfriends house with her brother on a never ending quest to buy black market cigarettes.
Siem Reap is a lovely city. It is South East Asia's version of New Orleans French Quarter. The instability of the Cambodian Riel has led most of the country to function on the US Dollar. ATM machines spit out dollars. Restaurants, hotels, and seemingly everything else is priced in US Dollars, with the vendor giving you Riel's back in change.
My first Cambodian language lesson begins shortly after arriving. I ask our man in Cambodia "How do you say no in Khmer?
"Ataay."
"How do you say yes?"
"Baat."
I walk down the street with my friends feeling super suave.
"Taxi sir?"
"Ataay."
5 seconds later..."Taxi sir?"
"Ataay."
Another 5 seconds..."Taxi sir?"
"Ataay."
This is driving me fucking nuts. Our man in Cambodia, however, is all smiles and relaxed. Nothing seems to disturb his equilibrium. His command of the Khmer language usually stops people dead in their tracks when talking with them, and he is able to arrange a Tuk Tuk ride to the temples the next day.
Apparently I snore, really fucking loud, because my lady friend who I am sharing a room with, wakes me up several times to tell me to shut up. This, among other things, is what has kept us in the platonic phase for so long. Now, she will just be my travel buddy, and occasional cock-blocker, when I try to bust a move in a bar.
We awaken, and our man in Cambodia is already on the scene with our Tuk Tuk ready. About 20 minutes later, we arrive at the outskirts of the temples. The Tuk Tuk driver has been hired for next to nothing for an entire day of driving us around. At first sight, the road we are on goes straight through the temple complex gate. The benevolent visage of king Jayavarman looks down from above as we drive through the gate and into another world. I have waited my whole life to come here. I love ancient history to the point of it being my second wife. This is Indiana Jones shit. Tomb Raider shit. Johnny fucking Quest, Apocalypse Now, World of Suzie Wong, and every other thing that has shaped my mindscape since birth. The vines, monkeys, elephants, women in sarongs, along with the heat, the smells....aww fuck.
We get out of the Tuk Tuk and begin the 6 hour slog through the different sites. It is almost too much to take in. I am trying to project myself back in time. Trying to picture what life was like back when these monuments were built. The Temples at Angkor are still active Buddhist shrines, and many of the alcoves have Buddhas adorned with fresh flowers and offerings. As I emerge from a tunnel in the complex, I am confronted by a group of children holding trinkets for sale.
"Mister! You buy! Mister! You buy!"
"Ataay."
they grow louder and follow me. "Mister! You buy!"
I try and wave then away. They just follow with that awkward little kid trot and keep repeating their mantra.
"Mister! You buy!"
We finally lose the first pack of feral children and move through the temples. Just when I start to get into that meditative, trying to picture what the fuck life was like back a thousand years ago state of mind, I am snapped out of my trance by another pack of children trying to sell me shit.
"Mister! You buy! Mister! You buy!"
One kid comes up with a more novel money making strategy. He says that he can, If I tell him the country I am from, tell me the capital city and population. I tell him I am Hungarian.
"Oh. You capital city is Budapest. Population--" Whatever the fuck he said. "You give me one dollar!"
I ask our man in Cambodia if this ever ends. He tells me to take out my cel phone and pretend to talk on it. Pretty soon, whenever we see a pack of kids, all three of us pull out our cel phones and have fake conversations on them. This acts like a force field from Star Trek, and for whatever reason, even desperate, aggressive street urchins respect the sanctity of the cel phone call and they stay away.
We walk through the temples for hours on end. Pretending to call in Napalm strikes on our phones.
"Yeah, bomb the village. Danger close. I repeat, danger close fire mission."
The kids leave us alone until we stop for a bite to eat.
Our man in Cambodia has a pack of eight or so girls around him. He is speaking in Khmer to them and they are floored that he can speak it so well.
"What do they want?" I ask him
"They want me to read something in the newspaper to them, to prove I can read Khmer. I'm not a monkey. I don't want to perform."
"Just read something and they'll go away."
Our man in Cambodia reads a line from the paper and the pack of girls are in awe. Next thing I know, Our man in Cambodia's face turns flush.
"They want me to show them my dick."
"What the fuck?"
"One of them just asked if I have a girlfriend and wants to see my dick. She says she's never seen a Westerners dick before."
Thankfully, this request was made by a girl in the group around 20 years old. Our man in Cambodia is peeved. He tells me how he has lived here for so long, taken the time to learn the language, and still gets treated like an outsider.
"They never would have asked a Cambodian man that. It bugs me that they seem to think it's OK to ask me because I am white."
We eat, and bomb more villages on our cel phones. I meander along with my bad hip, begging sunscreen from a passing English couple like it is water in the desert. I only catch fleeting glimpses of this forgotten world in my minds eye, as I am constantly harassed by the evil urchins proffering their wares.
My lady friend is all teary eyed. Too many hours of Oprah have made her a sap for this stuff.
"Oh, I just wish I could take them all home. I feel so bad for these kids. If I could, I would be like Angelina Jolie, and adopt them all. Just take all of them home."
My cynical side can't stop and I lay into her. "So go ahead...take one home. This is Cambodia. I'm sure you can grease some wheels and take a orphan child off their hands for the right price. Then you can take her back to the States, and teach her English. Sure, she will only be behind in school 5 or 6 years but she'll catch up. You can be a full time mom. Just like you always wanted."
Her tears suddenly dry up, and I am happy to have spared her her disillusionment.
We slouch on through the heat, with the urchins hot on our heels. All the while, calling in
"Danger close fire mission. I repeat, danger close."
A few trips back, my lady friend and I, decided to go visit a pal who was living and working in Cambodia. The journey was simple enough. Take a train to the border. cross, and he would meet us there. At the train station in Bangkok, I was stoked to see a original "Orient Express" train sitting on the tracks. It's history is legendary. It was not to be though, and we were directed to one of the non-air conditioned cattle cars that take the Thai country people back to their homeland.
We are to take this train to the border town of Aranpayet, transfer to a Tuk Tuk, and then cross into Poipet, Cambodia. Easy to remember because Poipet rhymes with toilet.
The train ride itself was third world chic. Wood bench seating, open windows, food vendors, etc. Something about the sway of the train, the countryside, clean air, and $1 price for an 8 hour ride made it tolerable. The strung out looking German couple a few seats up from us had already confirmed what I had suspected. That a lot of drug tourists, finding Thailand dry in comparison, opt for the lax laws on the Cambodian side of the wire. Cambodia is, as I would later find out, a non-extradition treaty country with the USA. Note that in case you are ever on the lam.
My lady friend and I have been platonic buddies for many years. I keep her around, if anything, for the purpose of showing other women that a girl can tolerate my presence for more than five consecutive minutes.
It is good to catch up with her, as she gabs almost as much as I do, and it makes the 8 hours go by relatively quick.
At the border crossing, it was the usual suspects. Hippies, backpackers, Euro-trash, and that one stand out guy, who you just know deep inside, is there to be a pervert. The large posters hanging on the walls don't say "Welcome to Cambodia", instead, they say, in several languages, what amounts to "Please don't fuck our children." That creepy vibe I already had about Cambodia went up a few notches after seeing the signs.
Crossing from Thailand into Cambodia is similar to crossing from San Diego to Tijuana. The chaos hits you like a punch in the face. "Our man in Cambodia" isn't there to meet us yet. Upon calling him, we find out he is hitching a ride in a truck and will meet us in an hour or so, allowing us some time to decompress and take in the border sights. Beautiful, fair-skinned girls pull up on moto-taxis by the droves and enter a casino. Presumably to work as hostesses, judging by their attire. Hawkers sell the endless buffet of bootleg DVDs, fake purses, and rancid meat on a stick. I chain smoke the local brand which has a delightful depiction of a cancer-ridden lung on the package. My friend and I sulk in the mid-day heat, until our contact arrives.
Big bro hugs, and wassup man's? are exchanged, and then our man in Cambodia starts the process of finding us a ride to Siem Reap. While negotiating the price of a car, a man spots me from a fair distance away, and makes a bee line for me.
"Mister Joel! Welcome back to Cambodia!" He says, extending his hand for a shake.
My friends look at me, I look at them, then look back at the guy.
"Huh? No, man, this is my first time here."
"No, you are Mister Joel right?"
"Yeah."
"Yes, you come here, Cambodia before, two years ago, I remember, I take you around."
Now, I must say, I have been hit in the head a lot over the years. I am punch drunk at times, and even suffer from short term memory loss. I have had black outs, I sleep walk, and have other neurological problems, but is it possible that I was here two years ago, and was so fucked up that I have no recollection of it?
"I think you got the wrong guy man."
He insists, and is even incredulous that I don't remember.
"Mister Joel, yes. I meet you two years ago. I remember your tattoo. I take you around before."
My friends look at me. I am wondering to myself, shit, was I here two years ago? He even has me doubting myself.
Our man in Cambodia has haggled a price for a car to Siem Reap. I wave my pal from two years ago away, assuming that this is some sort of complex scam, and jump into the car with my crew.
"What was that about?" My lady friend asks.
"I have no fucking idea. That guy insisted I was here two years ago, which is freaking me out because I was in Thailand two years ago, and I did party a lot. Maybe I got so fucked up I came here and don't remember? My passport would have a stamp though right?"
This incident has since then dubbed me Mister Joel.
I would later learn (just a few months ago) that it is very simple to cross into Cambodia at many un-official checkpoints without a stamp. I have since hiked into Cambodia a few times near my girlfriends house with her brother on a never ending quest to buy black market cigarettes.
Siem Reap is a lovely city. It is South East Asia's version of New Orleans French Quarter. The instability of the Cambodian Riel has led most of the country to function on the US Dollar. ATM machines spit out dollars. Restaurants, hotels, and seemingly everything else is priced in US Dollars, with the vendor giving you Riel's back in change.
My first Cambodian language lesson begins shortly after arriving. I ask our man in Cambodia "How do you say no in Khmer?
"Ataay."
"How do you say yes?"
"Baat."
I walk down the street with my friends feeling super suave.
"Taxi sir?"
"Ataay."
5 seconds later..."Taxi sir?"
"Ataay."
Another 5 seconds..."Taxi sir?"
"Ataay."
This is driving me fucking nuts. Our man in Cambodia, however, is all smiles and relaxed. Nothing seems to disturb his equilibrium. His command of the Khmer language usually stops people dead in their tracks when talking with them, and he is able to arrange a Tuk Tuk ride to the temples the next day.
Apparently I snore, really fucking loud, because my lady friend who I am sharing a room with, wakes me up several times to tell me to shut up. This, among other things, is what has kept us in the platonic phase for so long. Now, she will just be my travel buddy, and occasional cock-blocker, when I try to bust a move in a bar.
We awaken, and our man in Cambodia is already on the scene with our Tuk Tuk ready. About 20 minutes later, we arrive at the outskirts of the temples. The Tuk Tuk driver has been hired for next to nothing for an entire day of driving us around. At first sight, the road we are on goes straight through the temple complex gate. The benevolent visage of king Jayavarman looks down from above as we drive through the gate and into another world. I have waited my whole life to come here. I love ancient history to the point of it being my second wife. This is Indiana Jones shit. Tomb Raider shit. Johnny fucking Quest, Apocalypse Now, World of Suzie Wong, and every other thing that has shaped my mindscape since birth. The vines, monkeys, elephants, women in sarongs, along with the heat, the smells....aww fuck.
We get out of the Tuk Tuk and begin the 6 hour slog through the different sites. It is almost too much to take in. I am trying to project myself back in time. Trying to picture what life was like back when these monuments were built. The Temples at Angkor are still active Buddhist shrines, and many of the alcoves have Buddhas adorned with fresh flowers and offerings. As I emerge from a tunnel in the complex, I am confronted by a group of children holding trinkets for sale.
"Mister! You buy! Mister! You buy!"
"Ataay."
they grow louder and follow me. "Mister! You buy!"
I try and wave then away. They just follow with that awkward little kid trot and keep repeating their mantra.
"Mister! You buy!"
We finally lose the first pack of feral children and move through the temples. Just when I start to get into that meditative, trying to picture what the fuck life was like back a thousand years ago state of mind, I am snapped out of my trance by another pack of children trying to sell me shit.
"Mister! You buy! Mister! You buy!"
One kid comes up with a more novel money making strategy. He says that he can, If I tell him the country I am from, tell me the capital city and population. I tell him I am Hungarian.
"Oh. You capital city is Budapest. Population--" Whatever the fuck he said. "You give me one dollar!"
I ask our man in Cambodia if this ever ends. He tells me to take out my cel phone and pretend to talk on it. Pretty soon, whenever we see a pack of kids, all three of us pull out our cel phones and have fake conversations on them. This acts like a force field from Star Trek, and for whatever reason, even desperate, aggressive street urchins respect the sanctity of the cel phone call and they stay away.
We walk through the temples for hours on end. Pretending to call in Napalm strikes on our phones.
"Yeah, bomb the village. Danger close. I repeat, danger close fire mission."
The kids leave us alone until we stop for a bite to eat.
Our man in Cambodia has a pack of eight or so girls around him. He is speaking in Khmer to them and they are floored that he can speak it so well.
"What do they want?" I ask him
"They want me to read something in the newspaper to them, to prove I can read Khmer. I'm not a monkey. I don't want to perform."
"Just read something and they'll go away."
Our man in Cambodia reads a line from the paper and the pack of girls are in awe. Next thing I know, Our man in Cambodia's face turns flush.
"They want me to show them my dick."
"What the fuck?"
"One of them just asked if I have a girlfriend and wants to see my dick. She says she's never seen a Westerners dick before."
Thankfully, this request was made by a girl in the group around 20 years old. Our man in Cambodia is peeved. He tells me how he has lived here for so long, taken the time to learn the language, and still gets treated like an outsider.
"They never would have asked a Cambodian man that. It bugs me that they seem to think it's OK to ask me because I am white."
We eat, and bomb more villages on our cel phones. I meander along with my bad hip, begging sunscreen from a passing English couple like it is water in the desert. I only catch fleeting glimpses of this forgotten world in my minds eye, as I am constantly harassed by the evil urchins proffering their wares.
My lady friend is all teary eyed. Too many hours of Oprah have made her a sap for this stuff.
"Oh, I just wish I could take them all home. I feel so bad for these kids. If I could, I would be like Angelina Jolie, and adopt them all. Just take all of them home."
My cynical side can't stop and I lay into her. "So go ahead...take one home. This is Cambodia. I'm sure you can grease some wheels and take a orphan child off their hands for the right price. Then you can take her back to the States, and teach her English. Sure, she will only be behind in school 5 or 6 years but she'll catch up. You can be a full time mom. Just like you always wanted."
Her tears suddenly dry up, and I am happy to have spared her her disillusionment.
We slouch on through the heat, with the urchins hot on our heels. All the while, calling in
"Danger close fire mission. I repeat, danger close."
Monday, October 11, 2010
Voodoo Dollhouse
Standing on the edge of the Chao Phraya river. Waiting for one of the express boats to take my girl and I up to Bangkwang prison. We have decided to visit one of the Western inmates there, after seeing him on a TV show about Farangs locked up in Thai jails. The guy we intend to visit is a British lad, sentenced to 30 years at the age of 18 for smuggling. I don't know what I intend to say to him. Maybe just ask him how he's doing. To tell me about life in there, and how he is coping. If anything, to give him a sympathetic ear for a while.
While waiting for the boat, I receive an ill omen, in the form of an animal totem that appears to me just before something catastrophic happens in my life. It has appeared throughout my life, and I have cultivated my own superstitious belief that it serves as a warning, not a curse.
I tell my girl that I have changed my mind. I decide to tell her about the animal and expect her to think I'm insane. Instead, she shrugs, as if I have given a perfectly logical explanation why I can't go now.
Since being with my girlfriend Nok, I have been exposed to a particular version of Theravadan Buddhism that is practiced by many of the rural Thai people. It mixes ancient animistic beliefs within the structure of the Buddhist religion. The only thing I can compare it to is Haitian Voodoo, or Santeria. The dead are all around us. You just have to train your eye to see them. The Thai word for these spirits is Phi.
Almost every Thai believes in Phi. From the Tuk Tuk drivers who are afraid to visit the beaches in Phuket where the Tsunami hit, because it is haunted by the spirits of thousands of dead. To the Thai Navy Seals unit.
Those who passed the physical tests have to face what trainers call a ''ghost stage''. Trainees are forced to confront a corpse. Then they have to find a document hidden in a coffin.
Many of these Phi are given a home in the Spirit Houses that are found all over Thailand. A consultation with a monk is often sought over where to best display these miniature votive houses. The purpose of which is to appease the dead so they don't make problems for the living. Spirit houses are found everywhere from 5 star hotels, to the top of luxury condos.
Crews building the new airport refused to work after Phi were spotted. Monks had to be called in to purify the land and get the crews back to work.
The stories are endless. My favorite being the Thai cop who uses magic to solve crimes.
http://www.bangkokpost.com/news/crimes/34452/old-style-cop-floats-in-the-twilight-zone
Within this context of magical realism, I have adjusted my eyes to see the unseen. Also, to understand the Thai mind and in particular, my girlfriends, I have decided to go all in, and follow her along while she performs her daily rituals. First I have to learn from her about the different Phi that are all around us, and know how to handle them. My girl is convinced that a Phi lives in her apartment. When I would call her from the USA, she would tell me she is sleeping with the lights on because she can feel it's presence. None of her Buddha talismans are working. She needs stronger magic that is only available from one type of person called a Moh Phi, or Ghost Doctor. I agreed over the phone that I would go with her when I arrived in Bangkok. Now she is calling in my promise.
The Moh Phi's job is to combat a particularly annoying or even deadly ghost that may inhabit a place or attach itself to a person. My girl knows a Moh Phi in the Huai Kwang area and we go visit him together.
The Moh Phi has no eyes. He's not just blind. He has no fucking eyes. I can see the red flesh in the back of his eye sockets. I can't help but think of all the beggar scams in Bangkok, and that since this guy just happens to have no eyes, some industrious gang put him on the payroll as a ghost hunter instead of a beggar. His appearance is perfect. After all, "One doesn't need eyes to see in the spirit world." I love it. Bullshit or not. I love it. Simply because the guy is far scarier looking than any ghost my girl could have imagined.
The Moh Phi tells us about the different ghosts that wander and haunt. Play ticks on us or try to cause our death. He even hands me a pamphlet (for 100 Baht) that explains the different Phi.
Phi Kraseu is depicted as a female with a head only and entrails hanging out. This is the most feared ghost and she is perpetually on the hunt for dead bodies or human shit, but will devour live bodies, when their feces is unavailable. She is said to haunt the area around cemeteries and can lower property values in areas around them. Hard to imagine why.
The Phi Tai Hong is a ghost with a grudge. These are the spirits of people who have died under bad circumstances, such as murder or traffic accidents or a baby who was stillborn. Their untimely deaths makes them want to vent their wrath on the living.
The Phi Tai Tong Glom is a female who died giving birth and her baby died also. This doubles the evil strength of this spirit, and houses where such an incident occurred are avoided like the plague. This ghost is actually a variant of Phi Tai Hong and is sometimes referred to as Phi Tai Hong Tong Glom.
Phi Pret is a ghost with an insatiable appetite for everything, food, money, power or sex. The cause of this unending desire is that Phi Pret has has a tiny mouth no bigger than a pin hole. Never satiated, Phi Pret is also known as a hungry ghost. This ghost is widely known and I have heard girls in the bar areas say that a particular man who shags a new girl every night will become a Phi Pret when he dies.
Phi Pop is a spiritual parasite that inhabits the living and feeds off their intestines, much like a tape worm. Usually depicted as a beautiful female, Phi Pop lives on flesh and blood of humans. This ghost is one of the most difficult to get rid of. Mho Phi will perform a spinning dance to catch the attention of Phi Pop and as the dance reaches it's apex, the Phi Pop gets carried away in the whirl wind.
Female tree living spirits are referred to as Phi Nang Mai. In Northern Thailand you will see many trees with cloth wrapped round them to show that it is the home of a spirit. In the past, Buddhist Monks used this fear of tree ghosts by blessing trees and wrapping them with saffron cloth to try and prevent de-forestation. These trees cannot be cut down without first providing an alternative residence for the occupying spirit.
Phi Tanee is a variant of Phi Ton Mai and lives in banana trees. It is said that when the banana tree blossom is about to open these spirits become visible to the naked eye.
After listening to the Moh Phi, and reading the literature, I feel educated about what we are to do battle with. The Moh Phi asks my girl what type of ghost she saw. She tells him it was hardly visible but she could feel it.
The Moh Phi nods and asks her if there are any banana trees near her apartment. Yes, she tells him. There is one on the ground floor, just below her window. The Moh Phi smiles. I am trying not to look at his face with his empty eye sockets, because he looks at me directly in the eyes with them and it's freaking me out.
A house call is going to cost a donation of 30,000 Baht. This will include his prayers, exorcism, whatever fucking amulets, spells, incantations, magic carpets, etc that he uses. It's a fairly all-inclusive package, for a low low price of roughly 1000 bucks. We agree, and he says he will be by tomorrow.
I can see a wave of relief pass over Nok's face. This is a small price to pay for my own sanity, as now my girl and I can sleep with the lights off.
While waiting for the boat, I receive an ill omen, in the form of an animal totem that appears to me just before something catastrophic happens in my life. It has appeared throughout my life, and I have cultivated my own superstitious belief that it serves as a warning, not a curse.
I tell my girl that I have changed my mind. I decide to tell her about the animal and expect her to think I'm insane. Instead, she shrugs, as if I have given a perfectly logical explanation why I can't go now.
Since being with my girlfriend Nok, I have been exposed to a particular version of Theravadan Buddhism that is practiced by many of the rural Thai people. It mixes ancient animistic beliefs within the structure of the Buddhist religion. The only thing I can compare it to is Haitian Voodoo, or Santeria. The dead are all around us. You just have to train your eye to see them. The Thai word for these spirits is Phi.
Almost every Thai believes in Phi. From the Tuk Tuk drivers who are afraid to visit the beaches in Phuket where the Tsunami hit, because it is haunted by the spirits of thousands of dead. To the Thai Navy Seals unit.
Those who passed the physical tests have to face what trainers call a ''ghost stage''. Trainees are forced to confront a corpse. Then they have to find a document hidden in a coffin.
Many of these Phi are given a home in the Spirit Houses that are found all over Thailand. A consultation with a monk is often sought over where to best display these miniature votive houses. The purpose of which is to appease the dead so they don't make problems for the living. Spirit houses are found everywhere from 5 star hotels, to the top of luxury condos.
Crews building the new airport refused to work after Phi were spotted. Monks had to be called in to purify the land and get the crews back to work.
The stories are endless. My favorite being the Thai cop who uses magic to solve crimes.
http://www.bangkokpost.com/news/crimes/34452/old-style-cop-floats-in-the-twilight-zone
Within this context of magical realism, I have adjusted my eyes to see the unseen. Also, to understand the Thai mind and in particular, my girlfriends, I have decided to go all in, and follow her along while she performs her daily rituals. First I have to learn from her about the different Phi that are all around us, and know how to handle them. My girl is convinced that a Phi lives in her apartment. When I would call her from the USA, she would tell me she is sleeping with the lights on because she can feel it's presence. None of her Buddha talismans are working. She needs stronger magic that is only available from one type of person called a Moh Phi, or Ghost Doctor. I agreed over the phone that I would go with her when I arrived in Bangkok. Now she is calling in my promise.
The Moh Phi's job is to combat a particularly annoying or even deadly ghost that may inhabit a place or attach itself to a person. My girl knows a Moh Phi in the Huai Kwang area and we go visit him together.
The Moh Phi has no eyes. He's not just blind. He has no fucking eyes. I can see the red flesh in the back of his eye sockets. I can't help but think of all the beggar scams in Bangkok, and that since this guy just happens to have no eyes, some industrious gang put him on the payroll as a ghost hunter instead of a beggar. His appearance is perfect. After all, "One doesn't need eyes to see in the spirit world." I love it. Bullshit or not. I love it. Simply because the guy is far scarier looking than any ghost my girl could have imagined.
The Moh Phi tells us about the different ghosts that wander and haunt. Play ticks on us or try to cause our death. He even hands me a pamphlet (for 100 Baht) that explains the different Phi.
Phi Kraseu is depicted as a female with a head only and entrails hanging out. This is the most feared ghost and she is perpetually on the hunt for dead bodies or human shit, but will devour live bodies, when their feces is unavailable. She is said to haunt the area around cemeteries and can lower property values in areas around them. Hard to imagine why.
The Phi Tai Hong is a ghost with a grudge. These are the spirits of people who have died under bad circumstances, such as murder or traffic accidents or a baby who was stillborn. Their untimely deaths makes them want to vent their wrath on the living.
The Phi Tai Tong Glom is a female who died giving birth and her baby died also. This doubles the evil strength of this spirit, and houses where such an incident occurred are avoided like the plague. This ghost is actually a variant of Phi Tai Hong and is sometimes referred to as Phi Tai Hong Tong Glom.
Phi Pret is a ghost with an insatiable appetite for everything, food, money, power or sex. The cause of this unending desire is that Phi Pret has has a tiny mouth no bigger than a pin hole. Never satiated, Phi Pret is also known as a hungry ghost. This ghost is widely known and I have heard girls in the bar areas say that a particular man who shags a new girl every night will become a Phi Pret when he dies.
Phi Pop is a spiritual parasite that inhabits the living and feeds off their intestines, much like a tape worm. Usually depicted as a beautiful female, Phi Pop lives on flesh and blood of humans. This ghost is one of the most difficult to get rid of. Mho Phi will perform a spinning dance to catch the attention of Phi Pop and as the dance reaches it's apex, the Phi Pop gets carried away in the whirl wind.
Female tree living spirits are referred to as Phi Nang Mai. In Northern Thailand you will see many trees with cloth wrapped round them to show that it is the home of a spirit. In the past, Buddhist Monks used this fear of tree ghosts by blessing trees and wrapping them with saffron cloth to try and prevent de-forestation. These trees cannot be cut down without first providing an alternative residence for the occupying spirit.
Phi Tanee is a variant of Phi Ton Mai and lives in banana trees. It is said that when the banana tree blossom is about to open these spirits become visible to the naked eye.
After listening to the Moh Phi, and reading the literature, I feel educated about what we are to do battle with. The Moh Phi asks my girl what type of ghost she saw. She tells him it was hardly visible but she could feel it.
The Moh Phi nods and asks her if there are any banana trees near her apartment. Yes, she tells him. There is one on the ground floor, just below her window. The Moh Phi smiles. I am trying not to look at his face with his empty eye sockets, because he looks at me directly in the eyes with them and it's freaking me out.
A house call is going to cost a donation of 30,000 Baht. This will include his prayers, exorcism, whatever fucking amulets, spells, incantations, magic carpets, etc that he uses. It's a fairly all-inclusive package, for a low low price of roughly 1000 bucks. We agree, and he says he will be by tomorrow.
I can see a wave of relief pass over Nok's face. This is a small price to pay for my own sanity, as now my girl and I can sleep with the lights off.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Cheeseburger Ladyboy
Waking up with that familiar feeling. A feeling I haven't had in years. The room is spinning and my insides are melting. I am in a hotel. In a bed. Safe.
I roll over and my girlfriend is sleeping next to me. Knowing her as well as I do, she may sleep another 10 hours. In her former life she was a cat. Sleeping all fucking day, awakening only to eat, and go back to sleep again.
I stumble for the bathroom and let it fly. Things I don't remember eating are coming up perfectly intact. All those hours of watching Forensic Files has put my digestion time-line at only a few hours ago. I look at the clock in the room. 8 AM.
I try to piece together the previous night. We are in Bangkok, Thailand. That I know. I don't even know the name of the hotel we are in. The room is ugly as fuck though, and I can't imagine choosing this place. I walk to the window and look outside. I can tell we are in the Sukhumvit area because of the familiar high rises surrounding us. This isn't the hotel my suitcase is at. The hotel with all my shit is on the other side of town.
I try to wake up my girl. "Nok.....Nok wake up."
"Uhhhhh."
I shake her arm. "Nok, wake up...wake up...NOK WAKE UP!"
"Uhhhh....whaaat?"
"Where are we?"
"Hotel."
"Yeah, I get that. Which one?"
"Nana."
"Nana? We're at the fucking Nana Hotel? Why are we at the fucking Nana?"
"Sleep." Is all she says.
My skin starts to crawl. If one Hotel in the world could talk, it would be the Nana Hotel in Bangkok. Located across from the Nana Entertainment Complex, which is a 3 story building full of GoGo bars. The Nana hotel is where most of the monger's take their bar girls for an all night shag. My mind goes back to Forensic Files. If I had a black light and a bottle of Lumanol, I would be seeing a room where 90% of it's surface area is covered in body fluids.
I reluctantly sit down in a chair and reach for TV remote, then think twice. Elevator buttons and hotel remotes are supposed to be the dirtiest things you can touch. A remote at the Nana gets you an instant case of Herpes.
My mind is a total blank. I have blacked out before. Once, in Puerto Rico, I was slipped some roofies and then robbed at a nightclub. It took 6 months for the details of that night to come back. The blackout scarred the shit out of me. Waking up covered in dirt and blood. Wondering if I had killed somebody.
Knowing my girl is, and was with me is somewhat comforting. I couldn't have gotten into that much trouble.
I check my wallet. I'm down $800. How the fuck do you spend $800 in Bangkok in one night? I have lived a month in Thailand on $800 before. Even if a guy was shagging everything in sight, he might only be down $200. Being that my girl was with me, and how conservative she is, I know she wouldn't have let me run off with another lady.
My girl is a devout Buddhist. To the point of being a zealot. She doesn't drink, smoke, or do any drugs. Seeing her innocent face resting on a greasy pillow at the Nana Hotel is giving me chills.
I try again, 5 minutes of shaking her doesn't wake her up. I consider dumping cold water on her, but then decide against it. She is suffering enough just by being here.
I look around the room. Hideous, brown, wood panel walls. Velvet paintings of naked ladies. A phone from the 1980's, and a vibe so heavy, you could cut it with a dildo. I remember the line from the Graham Greene novel, The Quiet American: "Every house has a ghost, if you make peace with it, it will leave you alone."
I ask the spirits of all the dead hookers that haunt this place to forgive us our presence. We will be here only temporary. I pray that all the human suffering that has passed through this hotel with find peace in another life.
I try to wake her up again.
"Cheeseburger." She says.
"What? Cheeseburger?" You want a cheeseburger? Nok, what happened to all my money?"
"Ladyboy."
"Huh?"
"Cheeseburger... Ladyboy." She mutters.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Baby, wake up. We gotta go."
My girl gradually sits up and opens her eyes. It's like watching the hatching of a sea turtle. She is still in her clothes from the night before, so I can rule out that I got lucky.
"Nok, what happened last night? All my money is gone."
"Jam dai mai ?(Do you remember?)"
"No, Jam mai dai (I don't remember)"
"You drink too much last night. Maybe drink 20 Tiger beers. I try to stop you but you don't listen. Iet you have fun because you say you never drink at home your country."
The good part of having a Thai girlfriend is they pretty much let you do whatever you want. The bad part is that they pretty much let you do whatever you want too. The Thai word Sanuk means fun. Everything that is sanuk is good to the Thai people. As long as you are having fun, and aren't hurting anybody, nobody fucks with you.
"OK, I drink tiger beer then what?"
My girl crosses her arms, and her face forms a scowl. She looks like an angry baby.
"Then you say you want to go to Soi Cowboy to look at the lights. You tell me you only want to go take pictures of the bar...."
Soi Cowboy is another girlie bar area of Bangkok. It is unique for it's Vietnam war era neon signs. It is a miniature Asian Las Vegas. My favorite sign is of the Super Pussy agogo,(*I was wrong about this, it's in Patpong, but hey, I was fucked up. See Rick's comment below*) with a 1970's sign featuring a Asian woman wearing a Cheongsam, and a beehive hairdo, riding a Vespa. Pure kitsch.
"...Then you say you want more beer, but only bar have lady in it, and I don't want to go inside but you make me go. Every lady dancing no clothes and you forget I'm with you. Then lady come to you and you touch her boob, and I get angry and leave."
I couldn't help myself, and I start laughing. Mainly because I have zero recollection of it.
"Really? God, I'm a total dick honey. I'm so sorry. Are you angry still?"
She smiles, and shakes her head.
"No. I love you. Maybe you angry at me still?"
"Why would I be angry at you?"
"Because of joke I play to you last night."
"What joke?"
"You don't remember?"
My forehead is sweating now, and I can feel my balls shrink up inside my stomach. Stories like this always end up bad.
"I can't remember shit."
"You say you only touch boob on lady and it's no big deal, and you mao mak (really drunk), so not your fault and I say OK, you want to touch lady boob, I take you to place with many beautiful lady and you can touch all the boob you want. So I ask taxi to take us to Cascade bar."
"What's Cascade bar?"
"It Ladyboy bar, Very beautiful ladyboys sit next to us and we talking and you drink ten more Tiger beer, and they show you her boob"
My head sinks. Ladyboy's, for those who live in a cave, are extremely passable Thai transsexuals. So passable that the US Navy briefs their men before shore leave that "If she's really pretty, it's probably a guy."
"Please don't tell me I banged a Ladyboy last night."
"No honey, you don't. I just play joke because I angry you want to touch lady boob and I thinking, OK let him play with ladyboy boob, but then very ugly ladyboy come talk to us and even though you very drunk, you look around you now know they not real lady and I think you going to get mad but you just drink more beer. You are very happy when you drunk. Maybe too happy. You tip every lady in the bar all night long. You say it so nice to go to a bar with no fighting, and no old man want to ask me how much for sex. You say ladyboy bar the only place in Bangkok where you can relax and just have fun."
I am relieved. I'm strangely amused that my simple little country girl is a devious little shit and would pull a prank on me like that.
"That's it?"
"No...then the bar close and none of the ladyboy have customer, and you feel bad they don't make any money so you try to give them 1,000 Baht each but I stop you."
"Apparently not. All my money is gone."
"Then you say you want to get Water Buffalo cheeseburger, and you say Nana Hotel restaurant have one and you want to go eat. Then you invite all the ladyboy to come eat with us at restaurant. You big man now. They say you jai gwang (Generous) because you tip them so much and buy them food."
My girl reaches for her purse and pulls out her digital camera.
"Here. I show you picture from last night."
I brace myself and look through the photos. It is a montage of a drunken idiot on a rampage in Bangkok. Everything that I tend to hate about tourists, I managed to encapsulate in one evening. The only difference is that I was with my girl, and for the most part, she kept me out of trouble and watched my back. She then reaches into her bag and pulls out a wad of napkins, and hands them to me. On them are scribbled about 10 phone numbers with lipstick kiss marks on them.
"After we done eating, you too drunk and fall asleep in restaurant. You say you want to stay here in hotel because you don't want to take taxi for an hour to your hotel. When all the ladyboy say goodbye I take you upstairs and help you undress. I find all of the phone numbers the ladyboy put in your shirt pockets."
I look at the pile of phone numbers. One of them reads: Next time come to Bangkok alone, and call me.
I grab my girlfriend and hug her...really fucking hard.
*Addendum*
The Nana Hotel remains a monolith to all the misery a human life can experience. It's rooms, and those that frequent them, create a black hole of negative energy that remains long after they are gone. To this day, I pray for all the human life that lived and died under it's roof. Especially for the Poltergeist, that I know followed me home.
I roll over and my girlfriend is sleeping next to me. Knowing her as well as I do, she may sleep another 10 hours. In her former life she was a cat. Sleeping all fucking day, awakening only to eat, and go back to sleep again.
I stumble for the bathroom and let it fly. Things I don't remember eating are coming up perfectly intact. All those hours of watching Forensic Files has put my digestion time-line at only a few hours ago. I look at the clock in the room. 8 AM.
I try to piece together the previous night. We are in Bangkok, Thailand. That I know. I don't even know the name of the hotel we are in. The room is ugly as fuck though, and I can't imagine choosing this place. I walk to the window and look outside. I can tell we are in the Sukhumvit area because of the familiar high rises surrounding us. This isn't the hotel my suitcase is at. The hotel with all my shit is on the other side of town.
I try to wake up my girl. "Nok.....Nok wake up."
"Uhhhhh."
I shake her arm. "Nok, wake up...wake up...NOK WAKE UP!"
"Uhhhh....whaaat?"
"Where are we?"
"Hotel."
"Yeah, I get that. Which one?"
"Nana."
"Nana? We're at the fucking Nana Hotel? Why are we at the fucking Nana?"
"Sleep." Is all she says.
My skin starts to crawl. If one Hotel in the world could talk, it would be the Nana Hotel in Bangkok. Located across from the Nana Entertainment Complex, which is a 3 story building full of GoGo bars. The Nana hotel is where most of the monger's take their bar girls for an all night shag. My mind goes back to Forensic Files. If I had a black light and a bottle of Lumanol, I would be seeing a room where 90% of it's surface area is covered in body fluids.
I reluctantly sit down in a chair and reach for TV remote, then think twice. Elevator buttons and hotel remotes are supposed to be the dirtiest things you can touch. A remote at the Nana gets you an instant case of Herpes.
My mind is a total blank. I have blacked out before. Once, in Puerto Rico, I was slipped some roofies and then robbed at a nightclub. It took 6 months for the details of that night to come back. The blackout scarred the shit out of me. Waking up covered in dirt and blood. Wondering if I had killed somebody.
Knowing my girl is, and was with me is somewhat comforting. I couldn't have gotten into that much trouble.
I check my wallet. I'm down $800. How the fuck do you spend $800 in Bangkok in one night? I have lived a month in Thailand on $800 before. Even if a guy was shagging everything in sight, he might only be down $200. Being that my girl was with me, and how conservative she is, I know she wouldn't have let me run off with another lady.
My girl is a devout Buddhist. To the point of being a zealot. She doesn't drink, smoke, or do any drugs. Seeing her innocent face resting on a greasy pillow at the Nana Hotel is giving me chills.
I try again, 5 minutes of shaking her doesn't wake her up. I consider dumping cold water on her, but then decide against it. She is suffering enough just by being here.
I look around the room. Hideous, brown, wood panel walls. Velvet paintings of naked ladies. A phone from the 1980's, and a vibe so heavy, you could cut it with a dildo. I remember the line from the Graham Greene novel, The Quiet American: "Every house has a ghost, if you make peace with it, it will leave you alone."
I ask the spirits of all the dead hookers that haunt this place to forgive us our presence. We will be here only temporary. I pray that all the human suffering that has passed through this hotel with find peace in another life.
I try to wake her up again.
"Cheeseburger." She says.
"What? Cheeseburger?" You want a cheeseburger? Nok, what happened to all my money?"
"Ladyboy."
"Huh?"
"Cheeseburger... Ladyboy." She mutters.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Baby, wake up. We gotta go."
My girl gradually sits up and opens her eyes. It's like watching the hatching of a sea turtle. She is still in her clothes from the night before, so I can rule out that I got lucky.
"Nok, what happened last night? All my money is gone."
"Jam dai mai ?(Do you remember?)"
"No, Jam mai dai (I don't remember)"
"You drink too much last night. Maybe drink 20 Tiger beers. I try to stop you but you don't listen. Iet you have fun because you say you never drink at home your country."
The good part of having a Thai girlfriend is they pretty much let you do whatever you want. The bad part is that they pretty much let you do whatever you want too. The Thai word Sanuk means fun. Everything that is sanuk is good to the Thai people. As long as you are having fun, and aren't hurting anybody, nobody fucks with you.
"OK, I drink tiger beer then what?"
My girl crosses her arms, and her face forms a scowl. She looks like an angry baby.
"Then you say you want to go to Soi Cowboy to look at the lights. You tell me you only want to go take pictures of the bar...."
Soi Cowboy is another girlie bar area of Bangkok. It is unique for it's Vietnam war era neon signs. It is a miniature Asian Las Vegas. My favorite sign is of the Super Pussy agogo,(*I was wrong about this, it's in Patpong, but hey, I was fucked up. See Rick's comment below*) with a 1970's sign featuring a Asian woman wearing a Cheongsam, and a beehive hairdo, riding a Vespa. Pure kitsch.
"...Then you say you want more beer, but only bar have lady in it, and I don't want to go inside but you make me go. Every lady dancing no clothes and you forget I'm with you. Then lady come to you and you touch her boob, and I get angry and leave."
I couldn't help myself, and I start laughing. Mainly because I have zero recollection of it.
"Really? God, I'm a total dick honey. I'm so sorry. Are you angry still?"
She smiles, and shakes her head.
"No. I love you. Maybe you angry at me still?"
"Why would I be angry at you?"
"Because of joke I play to you last night."
"What joke?"
"You don't remember?"
My forehead is sweating now, and I can feel my balls shrink up inside my stomach. Stories like this always end up bad.
"I can't remember shit."
"You say you only touch boob on lady and it's no big deal, and you mao mak (really drunk), so not your fault and I say OK, you want to touch lady boob, I take you to place with many beautiful lady and you can touch all the boob you want. So I ask taxi to take us to Cascade bar."
"What's Cascade bar?"
"It Ladyboy bar, Very beautiful ladyboys sit next to us and we talking and you drink ten more Tiger beer, and they show you her boob"
My head sinks. Ladyboy's, for those who live in a cave, are extremely passable Thai transsexuals. So passable that the US Navy briefs their men before shore leave that "If she's really pretty, it's probably a guy."
"Please don't tell me I banged a Ladyboy last night."
"No honey, you don't. I just play joke because I angry you want to touch lady boob and I thinking, OK let him play with ladyboy boob, but then very ugly ladyboy come talk to us and even though you very drunk, you look around you now know they not real lady and I think you going to get mad but you just drink more beer. You are very happy when you drunk. Maybe too happy. You tip every lady in the bar all night long. You say it so nice to go to a bar with no fighting, and no old man want to ask me how much for sex. You say ladyboy bar the only place in Bangkok where you can relax and just have fun."
I am relieved. I'm strangely amused that my simple little country girl is a devious little shit and would pull a prank on me like that.
"That's it?"
"No...then the bar close and none of the ladyboy have customer, and you feel bad they don't make any money so you try to give them 1,000 Baht each but I stop you."
"Apparently not. All my money is gone."
"Then you say you want to get Water Buffalo cheeseburger, and you say Nana Hotel restaurant have one and you want to go eat. Then you invite all the ladyboy to come eat with us at restaurant. You big man now. They say you jai gwang (Generous) because you tip them so much and buy them food."
My girl reaches for her purse and pulls out her digital camera.
"Here. I show you picture from last night."
I brace myself and look through the photos. It is a montage of a drunken idiot on a rampage in Bangkok. Everything that I tend to hate about tourists, I managed to encapsulate in one evening. The only difference is that I was with my girl, and for the most part, she kept me out of trouble and watched my back. She then reaches into her bag and pulls out a wad of napkins, and hands them to me. On them are scribbled about 10 phone numbers with lipstick kiss marks on them.
"After we done eating, you too drunk and fall asleep in restaurant. You say you want to stay here in hotel because you don't want to take taxi for an hour to your hotel. When all the ladyboy say goodbye I take you upstairs and help you undress. I find all of the phone numbers the ladyboy put in your shirt pockets."
I look at the pile of phone numbers. One of them reads: Next time come to Bangkok alone, and call me.
I grab my girlfriend and hug her...really fucking hard.
*Addendum*
The Nana Hotel remains a monolith to all the misery a human life can experience. It's rooms, and those that frequent them, create a black hole of negative energy that remains long after they are gone. To this day, I pray for all the human life that lived and died under it's roof. Especially for the Poltergeist, that I know followed me home.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Cesspool agogo
We arrived at Sisaket bus terminal in Eastern Thailand in late afternoon. Sisaket is only a stones throw from the Cambodian border. There are no Westerners here, except for the stories I have heard from my girl about the 75 year old British Expat who married a Ladyboy, or a Thai transsexual, and built the two of them a Barbi Doll inspired home on the outskirts of the city. The term TIT is used to mean "This is Thailand", which reflects the Thai peoples seemingly unique sense of time. TIT, after all, is why we wait at the bus terminal for 2 hours for one of my girls family members to pick us up.
Our ride finally shows up. It is a giant logging truck, replete with a haul of freshly cut timber for sale on the market. We hop in the back with the logs, and begin our journey to the family farm.
My girl's home is 30 miles away from the main town. The roads, if you can call them that, are simply a trail of mud and crater sized holes. Our truck shares the road with water buffalo, packs of wild dogs, and the occasional human toddler wandering around with no supervision. The journey takes over an hour. Along the way, the landscape is one from a save the children commercial....."Won't you send some money, so this child can have a pair of shoes, and clean water to drink?"
We pass the ubiquitous houses, or rather shacks on stilts that dot the Thai countryside. All of them seem to have a 1980's era huge satellite dish on top of them. When you don't have indoor plumbing, or running water, it must be nice to at least be able to get Baywatch on the tube.
Families sit outside their shacks and absolutely every person is walking out to the road to see the strange white guy riding on the back of a logging truck. Children cry out "Ma! Farang!" or "Mom, come look at the white guy! Why the Hell is there a white guy around here, and why do you think he's sitting on top of a bunch of dead trees?"
Our truck finally arrives at my girl's home. Her house is a step up from the others. It has walls made from poorly arranged cinder blocks instead of rotting wood beams. We unpack and I am shown my room. It consits of a 2 inch thick pad on the floor under a mosquito net.
It is late and everyone is tired. In the countryside, most people go to bed around 8pm. The flicker of TV sets glow in the absolute darkness, being visible in the neighboring houses through the spaces between the decayed wood planks that make up their walls. I hear the sounds of the Jing Joak, which are the the lizzards that inhabit every house in this part of the country. They make a sound similar to someone getting kissed rapid and loudly. They are the surest sign that night time has arrived, and you had better get under your mosquito net soon or suffer the consequences.
I go to sleep with my girl. She asks me if I want to go to swim in the pool tomorrow.
"Pool?" I say.
"Yes, we have pool. Can swim tomorrow if you want. Very hot, swim in pool make you feel good."
I go to sleep, or try to with the din of howling dogs in the distance. Wishing I was in Laos where they at least have opium dens.
I wake up and my room is filled with the acrid smell of smoke from burning wood. The kitchen is outside my window and consists of a charcoal pit on the ground where they cook the food. It is old school all the way. The way mankind lived for thousands of years before we turned into a bunch of pampered princesses with steel appliances, and granite counter tops. My girl prepares me a delicious Thai feast for breakfast. I look at her, and then look around. I can't believe a girl this happy and lovely grew up in such austere conditions.
Finally time comes for us to go swimming. I am given the keys to my girlfriend's sisters Hello Kitty scooter. It is a nauseating pink scooter covered in Hello Kitty designs. Only in Asia, would this be a valid marketing gimmick for a scooter company. I hop on and rev it up. I can feel my estrogen levels rise as we navigate the mud roads on the short trek to the pool. We arrive at the family farm. It's over 500 acres of rice, and Issan potato's which look like dirty twigs but taste the same as the ones in the West.
"There's the pool." She says.
"Where?"
"Over There."
"That Thing?"
"Yes, come, we go swim."
I walk up to the large hole in the ground, filled with stagnant, shit colored water. My girl strips off her T-shirt, and gets down to a bikini.
"Come, go swim with me." She says.
"In there? No fucking way man."
"Why? Aren't you hot? Water make you cool. Go swim."
"What the fuck? I'm not swimming in that. That water's fucking filthy. Some kind of worm is going to swim up my dick and eat it's way into my brain."
My girl only understood the "I 'm not swimming" part of that and looked at me confused.
"No, water fun. I swim in pool since I was little girl. You be okay na."
I know I am wasting my breath and she won't get what I'm saying but I try anyway....
"You will be okay because your people lived here for thousands of years and you have a natural immunity to the shit in these waters. Remember when you told me you got bit by a cobra when you were little but didn't die? didn't even get sick for that matter. That's because you and your people have been in this part of the country since the time of Angkor Wat. If my white ass goes in there, I'll die from some messed up parasite that's going to get inside of me."
My girlfriend tilted her head, as if the marbles in her brain would function better if they all rolled to one side.
"You no want to swim with me? Okay. You sit and read your book. I go swim."
At that, she walked down into the water. Up to her waist in her leech bath. She splashes around like a four year old, laughing to herself and seemingly, having the time of her life. I sit on the dirt, brushing away red ants, and everything else that has emerged from the ground to make a feast of the tender white flesh that makes up my legs. I, for the first time in my life, am in harmony with nature. Simply with the realization that mother nature doesn't give a rats ass about me or any of us. I am, at this moment, simply a fresh piece of meat for the insects to consume. They don't want to wait for my corpse to be in the ground. Perhaps because they are denied this pleasure since Buddhists cremate their loved ones.
"Drink up fuckers." I tell them.
After ten minutes of getting eaten alive, I strip down to my boxers and jump in the pool.
NOTE: A over the counter drug called Albendazole is available in most Thai Pharmacies. It is an Anti-Parasitic. I highly recommend you take a dose after any prolonged stay in the Thai countryside. Or if you enjoy eating at street food stalls for that matter.
Our ride finally shows up. It is a giant logging truck, replete with a haul of freshly cut timber for sale on the market. We hop in the back with the logs, and begin our journey to the family farm.
My girl's home is 30 miles away from the main town. The roads, if you can call them that, are simply a trail of mud and crater sized holes. Our truck shares the road with water buffalo, packs of wild dogs, and the occasional human toddler wandering around with no supervision. The journey takes over an hour. Along the way, the landscape is one from a save the children commercial....."Won't you send some money, so this child can have a pair of shoes, and clean water to drink?"
We pass the ubiquitous houses, or rather shacks on stilts that dot the Thai countryside. All of them seem to have a 1980's era huge satellite dish on top of them. When you don't have indoor plumbing, or running water, it must be nice to at least be able to get Baywatch on the tube.
Families sit outside their shacks and absolutely every person is walking out to the road to see the strange white guy riding on the back of a logging truck. Children cry out "Ma! Farang!" or "Mom, come look at the white guy! Why the Hell is there a white guy around here, and why do you think he's sitting on top of a bunch of dead trees?"
Our truck finally arrives at my girl's home. Her house is a step up from the others. It has walls made from poorly arranged cinder blocks instead of rotting wood beams. We unpack and I am shown my room. It consits of a 2 inch thick pad on the floor under a mosquito net.
It is late and everyone is tired. In the countryside, most people go to bed around 8pm. The flicker of TV sets glow in the absolute darkness, being visible in the neighboring houses through the spaces between the decayed wood planks that make up their walls. I hear the sounds of the Jing Joak, which are the the lizzards that inhabit every house in this part of the country. They make a sound similar to someone getting kissed rapid and loudly. They are the surest sign that night time has arrived, and you had better get under your mosquito net soon or suffer the consequences.
I go to sleep with my girl. She asks me if I want to go to swim in the pool tomorrow.
"Pool?" I say.
"Yes, we have pool. Can swim tomorrow if you want. Very hot, swim in pool make you feel good."
I go to sleep, or try to with the din of howling dogs in the distance. Wishing I was in Laos where they at least have opium dens.
I wake up and my room is filled with the acrid smell of smoke from burning wood. The kitchen is outside my window and consists of a charcoal pit on the ground where they cook the food. It is old school all the way. The way mankind lived for thousands of years before we turned into a bunch of pampered princesses with steel appliances, and granite counter tops. My girl prepares me a delicious Thai feast for breakfast. I look at her, and then look around. I can't believe a girl this happy and lovely grew up in such austere conditions.
Finally time comes for us to go swimming. I am given the keys to my girlfriend's sisters Hello Kitty scooter. It is a nauseating pink scooter covered in Hello Kitty designs. Only in Asia, would this be a valid marketing gimmick for a scooter company. I hop on and rev it up. I can feel my estrogen levels rise as we navigate the mud roads on the short trek to the pool. We arrive at the family farm. It's over 500 acres of rice, and Issan potato's which look like dirty twigs but taste the same as the ones in the West.
"There's the pool." She says.
"Where?"
"Over There."
"That Thing?"
"Yes, come, we go swim."
I walk up to the large hole in the ground, filled with stagnant, shit colored water. My girl strips off her T-shirt, and gets down to a bikini.
"Come, go swim with me." She says.
"In there? No fucking way man."
"Why? Aren't you hot? Water make you cool. Go swim."
"What the fuck? I'm not swimming in that. That water's fucking filthy. Some kind of worm is going to swim up my dick and eat it's way into my brain."
My girl only understood the "I 'm not swimming" part of that and looked at me confused.
"No, water fun. I swim in pool since I was little girl. You be okay na."
I know I am wasting my breath and she won't get what I'm saying but I try anyway....
"You will be okay because your people lived here for thousands of years and you have a natural immunity to the shit in these waters. Remember when you told me you got bit by a cobra when you were little but didn't die? didn't even get sick for that matter. That's because you and your people have been in this part of the country since the time of Angkor Wat. If my white ass goes in there, I'll die from some messed up parasite that's going to get inside of me."
My girlfriend tilted her head, as if the marbles in her brain would function better if they all rolled to one side.
"You no want to swim with me? Okay. You sit and read your book. I go swim."
At that, she walked down into the water. Up to her waist in her leech bath. She splashes around like a four year old, laughing to herself and seemingly, having the time of her life. I sit on the dirt, brushing away red ants, and everything else that has emerged from the ground to make a feast of the tender white flesh that makes up my legs. I, for the first time in my life, am in harmony with nature. Simply with the realization that mother nature doesn't give a rats ass about me or any of us. I am, at this moment, simply a fresh piece of meat for the insects to consume. They don't want to wait for my corpse to be in the ground. Perhaps because they are denied this pleasure since Buddhists cremate their loved ones.
"Drink up fuckers." I tell them.
After ten minutes of getting eaten alive, I strip down to my boxers and jump in the pool.
NOTE: A over the counter drug called Albendazole is available in most Thai Pharmacies. It is an Anti-Parasitic. I highly recommend you take a dose after any prolonged stay in the Thai countryside. Or if you enjoy eating at street food stalls for that matter.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The Chicken Whisperer
I haven't slept in days. Intermittent alpha states are all I can achieve in this place. At midnight the packs of feral dogs begin howling. At 3 AM, the roosters begin screaming. All that bullshit about roosters only calling at the break of dawn is a myth. The roosters here never shut the fuck up unless it rains. One particular rooster is right outside my window. I have timed his calls to every 11 seconds -- day in and day out. He is Gobbles from South Park. I can see him out the window, pecking at the ground, when he looks up and I can see the surprise on his face "Oh shit! There's the fucking sun! Cocka doodle fucking do!" I time his screams by counting to 11 Mississippi. I was surprised to find that even Thai/Lao people who don't speak English use the system of counting involving 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, etc. to establish accurate timing. Must be some American influence from movies or TV.
I am now plotting the death of the rooster. Can I just kill it with a Machete? Whack it with a stick? I emerge from my mosquito net and step out into the outdoor kitchen for a cigarette. My girl is already making breakfast, consisting of sticky rice, Kai Giao which is a Thai omelet, and Pad gap pow. The rooster calls again, and it pierces my cranium. "Honey, can I please kill the fucking rooster? I can't sleep." My girl looks at me perplexed. She simply tunes it out. The jungle/farm cacophony is like a lullaby to these people. Much like when I used to live next to the elevated train in Chicago...you just get used to it.
"Why you want to kill chicken?" she asks.
"Because it's driving me fucking nuts. I mean, boy chicken making me ting tong mak mak! I swear to God that the boy chicken has some kind of internal clock that makes him scream every eleven seconds."
My girl looks at me "Mai kaojai (I don't understand)"
"You know, like a clock. The boy chicken has some kind of clock inside of him that makes him scream every eleven seconds. It's making me crazy. I'm sick. I can't sleep. i want to go back to Bangkok where it's quiet."
After a long pause, I can see the wheels turning in my girlfriends head. She is trying to comprehend what I am saying, to which she replies "You funny. Chicken don't own a watch."
I slap my forehead.
"I know the chicken doesn't own a watch."
"But you just say that boy chicken have a clock. Chickens can't tell time."
"Jesus fucking Christ, can I just kill it please?"
"I don't know whose chicken it is. Maybe they get mad if you kill somebody's chicken."
"It's not yours or your neighbors?"
"No, boy chicken just like to walk around and boom boom lady chicken. Then they have baby chicken."
I rub my temples. Inside, I am really happy that my girlfriend is pretty, because at times like these, I am convinced she is retarded.
Now the rest of my girls family comes outside to eat. They ask her why I am angry and she explains to them in Lao/Isaan, that I want to kill the boy chicken.
"My mom say boy chicken taste no good. Why you want to kill it?"
We go back and forth for ten minutes about chickens owning watches, my un-Buddhist desire to extinguish a creatures life simply because it annoys the shit out of me, and in the end, the guy who wires the Western union money every month (Me) wins out. My girl's mom gives me the nod. I have permission to kill the rooster. I grab a huge, cast iron machete, and begin to walk towards the soon to be dead rooster. There is some Lao/Isaan conversation going on, followed by laughter. I turn around and ten people are watching me. Then more kids from neighboring houses show up and soon the crowd has grown to 20. I am thinking of the George Orwell scene in Burmese Days where he has to go kill the elephant.
"Why is everybody laughing?" I ask
"Because you bring big knife to kill little boy chicken. You maybe use big knife like that to kill Tiger." My girl hands me a long stick that they use to walk the water buffalo with. "Use this instead."
I trade my Machete for the stick and now there are even more people who have come to see the strange white man execute the boy chicken because it talks too much. I approach the Rooster. I don't want to kill it, but my sanity demands it. I decide to give it one last chance. I close my eyes and send the rooster a mental projection. I tell the rooster in my mind, that it is driving me crazy. That If it limits its calling to dawn only, that I will let it live. This every 11 seconds thing is a form of psychic torture, and I will kill it if it doesn't shut the fuck up.
I open my eyes and raise my stick. I am going to kill it the next time it cock a doodle doo's. I wait, and wait, and wait some more. It doesn't make a sound. I turn around to the crowd of onlookers, and shrug my shoulders.
"Go ahead and kill it." my girl says.
"No, I'm good. I think it stopped. I talked to the chicken with my mind and told it to be quiet or I would kill it. I think it understands now."
My girlfriend translates this into Lao/Isaan for the crowd of people. They nod as if this was a good outcome. No chickens had to die today. One man asks my girl something to ask me.
"This man want to know if you can talk to his wife. He says she never shuts up either."
To this, the crowd roared with laughter. I went back inside, crawled under my mosquito net, and finally fell asleep.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Our lady of Ecoli
8 hour bus ride from Bangkok to Trat, which is near the border of Cambodia in the South East of Thailand. We cannot afford the hotels in Phuket, so we opted for the low budget Hippie haven called Koh Chang. The bus is the Bird Flu express. No other farangs on board like me. Many of the passengers are wearing SARS masks, whether to keep something in, or keep something out is anyone's guess. The Thai version of the twin girls from the Shinning movie sit in front of me, starring over the seat. No emotion in their eyes. Just the look of disturbed children of the corn....or children of the rice for that matter. I am reading Ammianus Marcelinus "The later Roman Empire". I am just getting to the part of the Gothic wars and invasion of the Huns, when the bus stops and 6 or 7 people get on the bus offering to sell cold chicken on a stick, bags of soda, and mango slices. My girl buys all of it. I don't know where it all goes but I have never seen a person eat as much as her. She proffers me a cold Salmonella laden chicken skewer and I eat it anyway.
Not 30 minutes after of which, the bubble guts start churning inside of me. I am balancing in the buses "hong nam" or rest room, as it sways back and forth, as I try to aim the jet of liquid shit from my ass in the general direction of the toilet. I am supposedly supposed to use a provided tub of water to clean myself with but opt for a combination of napkins and using a bottle of water with a sport top on it as a sort of field improvised bidet. After 15 minutes of this cleansing process, I emerge from the rest room. The Driver of the bus looks in the rear view mirror and sees me coming out and slams on the brakes. Our bus pulls to the side of the road and the driver jumps up from his seat, yelling at me in Thai. He is speaking too fast for me to understand, but I can make out the words "Key" meaning shit, "Kwai" meaning buffalo (a euphemism for a dumb person). My girl begins yelling back at him in the Issan dialect, and then I am totally lost. She turns and explains to me that the driver is saying that the toilet is broken and couldn't I read the "out of order" sign written in Thai on the rest room door?
The Driver walks down the aisle and stands before the restroom door. He carefully opens it to examine the crime scene. He gasps and begins yelling again "Ma nii ! Ma Nii !" or come here, come here. I am beckoned over to him and made to examine the carnage I have unleashed. My lava flow, had gone down into the toilet and flooded the floor through a broken fixture. Now the Shinning Twins appear below each of my arms and are marveling at my creation. My girl is readily at my defense, asking the driver why he didn't tell the Farang (me) that the toilet was broken. He should have known that I didn't read Thai. While all this is happening, I can feel the second wave percolating inside of me. I tell the driver "Tawnii, Phom dtong gon bpai hong nam!" or I have to go to the rest room NOW. Our bus is in the middle of nowhere, and the driver points outside. I look out the window of the bus. It is a landscape of flat rice fields with no trees nearby. I look further down the road and can see some higher plants that appear to be sugar cane. I tell my girl to tell him to drive further down the road, to tell him that I am sorry but I am sick from the chicken that I ate earlier. How bacteria ridden something has to be in order for it to have such an immediate onset is scarring the shit out of me....literally.
After some cajoling on my girls part, the driver goes further down the road, and stops the bus. He opens the door and yells for me to "Bpai! Bpai!" or Go! Go!. My girl digs into her bag and hands me a roll of tissue. I am utterly defeated but beyond caring. I get off the bus with my Tissue and water bottle in hand and walk into the sugar cane field. I turn around and look at the bus. Every passenger is starring at me...of course, along with the Shinning twins, who now look like conjoined twins (ah! Siamese twins) because of the way their heads are tilting and resting on each other temples.
I do my business and return to the bus. The Thai's are gentle and considerate people. A culture of Buddhism has left them for compassion for the pasty white farang with no intestinal fortitude and they graciously spare me their ridicule. I return to my seat and begin to read my book. My girl acts as though nothing has happened. To lighten the mood the driver starts playing Thai Karaoke music on the TV set. The volume is way too loud and I can't concentrate on my book. I ask my girl to tell the driver to turn it down and she says she wont. Why? I ask her. "Because you already make poo poo on his floor, and I don't want to ask him for anything." I try for 30 minutes to deal with the brain piercing vocals of Thai pop music but I can't handle it anymore. I walk up to the driver and ask him in Thai to turn down the music. He looks at me with hatred in his eyes. Then I look at him with hatred in my eyes. He reaches for the volume knob and turns it down one notch. I then reach for the knob and turn it down 3 more. The driver just shakes his head.
I have won.
Free Range Roaches
I am now back to what passes for life in Los Angeles California. It seems like only yesterday (it was a week ago), that I was squatting over a hole with volcanic, explosive diarrhea in Khantaralak Thailand. The hole I speak of is known as an Issan Toilet, which is right next to the Issan shower. Issan being the very rural Eastern part of Thailand where the love of my life happens to live. Her name is not important as she has many nicknames-- "Look Ling" being my favorite for her as it means little monkey...because that's what she is...in every way....except that she's really quite beautiful.
After my third trip to Thailand this year, and coming home with ridiculous stories about fights, sicknesses, jungle treks, and just about every other thing that can go wrong on a vacation, I decided, after the prompting of my friends, to start this blog.
I make no claims to being an explorer. I don't wear a safari vest, a pith helmet, or have any claims to great discoveries. Quite the contrary...I am a borderline retarded traveler who is a magnet for assholes and bad luck. I don't want this blog to seem like "Heart of Darkness". It's not. Nothing in my life is that noble. I don't cut through the jungle with a machete to reveal the temple of the monkey king, or other such swashbuckling bullshit. Instead, I stumble over the broken terrain with a bad hip, a bad shoulder, all the while trying to fend off the mosquitoes from eating me alive.
Folklorists use a word called "Ostension" to describe the acting out of the mythic hero script (thank you Andrienne Mayor for the term). This could be either the Pontic king Mithradates acting out the life of Hercules, thereby becoming Hercules, or it could be your average douchebag boxer, acting out the Rocky movies in order to become Rocky in reality.
I have no mythic hero script. Nothing that I have done is heroic or mythic. Simply put...my vacations are an exercise in futility. I often look up to the sky and repeat the cliche' "Not this shit again"...it's a staple of Hollywood movies, which is good enough for me. If I ever think of something more original I will use that as my mantra.
I kept a diary throughout my travels. Being that most places I go to don't have internet, I have to write this down now. I will not embellish anything in this blog. I will simply write through the perception I had of events at the time I wrote them down. The title of this blog is myfuckedupvacations (originally). I hope my contribution to travel writing will simply be a as a cautionary tale to those who travel with their head in the clouds. Yes! This could happen to you! If it doesn't, then may the Gods continue to feed you honey.
This is my intro....now I have to go to work. Rather, I have to go to work so I can make money to send to my little Third World darling, so she can finally buy a real fucking toilet for the next time I go.
After my third trip to Thailand this year, and coming home with ridiculous stories about fights, sicknesses, jungle treks, and just about every other thing that can go wrong on a vacation, I decided, after the prompting of my friends, to start this blog.
I make no claims to being an explorer. I don't wear a safari vest, a pith helmet, or have any claims to great discoveries. Quite the contrary...I am a borderline retarded traveler who is a magnet for assholes and bad luck. I don't want this blog to seem like "Heart of Darkness". It's not. Nothing in my life is that noble. I don't cut through the jungle with a machete to reveal the temple of the monkey king, or other such swashbuckling bullshit. Instead, I stumble over the broken terrain with a bad hip, a bad shoulder, all the while trying to fend off the mosquitoes from eating me alive.
I have no mythic hero script. Nothing that I have done is heroic or mythic. Simply put...my vacations are an exercise in futility. I often look up to the sky and repeat the cliche' "Not this shit again"...it's a staple of Hollywood movies, which is good enough for me. If I ever think of something more original I will use that as my mantra.
I kept a diary throughout my travels. Being that most places I go to don't have internet, I have to write this down now. I will not embellish anything in this blog. I will simply write through the perception I had of events at the time I wrote them down. The title of this blog is myfuckedupvacations (originally). I hope my contribution to travel writing will simply be a as a cautionary tale to those who travel with their head in the clouds. Yes! This could happen to you! If it doesn't, then may the Gods continue to feed you honey.
This is my intro....now I have to go to work. Rather, I have to go to work so I can make money to send to my little Third World darling, so she can finally buy a real fucking toilet for the next time I go.
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