Another Day with Dumbo

Another Day With Dumbo

On Saturday afternoon, a few friends and I went up to the Elephant Farm. They are preparing to head back to The States, and had not gone to the Elephant Farm. I was invited along, and graciously accepted the invitation. I wish I could say it is more exciting the second time around, but it's not. This time around, I did manage to buy a few souvenirs and something for the "kids" back home. Oh, and I also took a 10 minute elephant ride. It was a beautiful day, and a perfect opportunity to soak up some much needed Vitamin D. Enjoy the pictures, and a short video from my second trip to the Elephant Compound.

Fly By Chiang Rai

Chiang Rai

The previous week, the head of our department informed us that all the teachers in the international studies department would be participating in a training seminar up in Chiang Rai (not to be confused with Chiang Mai). I’ve always been a huge fan of conferences, seminars, and any additional training that could help me in my professional development. It wasn’t until earlier this week that we were informed that the bus for our training seminar would be leaving at 05:00AM on Tuesday, August 26. In addition to this lovely piece of news, I also learned that the attire was business, including a dress shirt, tie, and jacket or sport coat. At this point, all optimism for this event was quickly abandoned!

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – nothing in Thailand starts on time. Therefore, when I was told that our bus was leaving at 05:00AM, I heard, “Our bus will be leaving anytime between 05:00AM – 10:00AM.” I am not much of a morning person, especially when it requires a shirt and tie before sunrise; I was not moving very quickly. Using every kilogram of energy I had, I forced myself out of bed at 04:30AM that morning. Sans shower, I quickly washed my face and got dressed. Donning a short-sleeved dress shirt, khaki pants, black Converse, I begin the trek to school at 05:00AM with my tie wadded into a ball and thrown into my man purse. It usually takes about 10-15 minutes to get to school from my apartment. My friends, I tell you there is nothing more spooky or eerie than riding a motorbike down the Thailand highways at 05:00AM. There are very few people out, and the highway has an “I Know What You Did Last Summer” sort of feel, minus the hotness of Ryan Philippe & Freddie Prinze Jr. Bixby and I arrived at school to find the entire department awaiting my arrival. Apparently some things do start on time – no thanks to me. “Sawaddee Ka-ing” and Wai-ing my way through the aisle of the bus, I finally find an empty seat toward the back. I immediate dug out my iPod, strapped on my earphones, and passed out before the bus even pulled out of the school.

I’d like to take a moment to describe our transportation for you. From the outside, our bus appeared to be a typical motor coach, similar to that of greyhound in the states. However, the outside had been painted aqua blue with the school logo, as if shouting to those motorists we passed by, “WE’RE TEACHERS FROM LAMPANG!” Inside, the bus had white patent vinyl seats that seemed to squeak with the slightest movement. The entire ride sounded like a group of old people coming back from the National Baked Bean Convention – a constant sound of flatulence. Additionally, the bus seemed to be built for characters from the Wizard of Oz. When I flew in a puddle-jumper from Puerto Rico to the Dominican Republic, I had more legroom on that 18-seater plane, compared to what this bus was offering. Oh, the joys of being a giant in a land of dwarves. I try to find the gratitude in these situations – I’m still currently looking!

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning in a booster seat, the bus finally pulled over at a service station for a bathroom break. Having grown into a man with an infant-sized bladder, I decided it was in my best interest to take full advantage of the stop. As I exited the bus, I finally got a full look at what everyone else in my department was wearing. All of the Thai teachers had on black pants, a black blazer with the school logo embossed on the left breast pocket, and a blue dress shirt underneath. Even the other Western teachers, who didn’t own the prescribed uniform, had on dark dress pants and a coordinating tie. I immediately looked down at my outfit choice from the morning. Khaki pants, white short-sleeved dress shirt, and my tie of choice was blue plaid. Let’s not forget about my converse clad feet, sans socks. I looked like I was headed for a day at the marina, while everyone else in my department looked like they were headed to a funeral – maybe mine! Realizing that there was not much I could do about the situation now, I took care of my call of nature, and boarded the bus again with the hopes that no one would notice my outfit faux pas.

Around 09:30AM, we begin to find our way to our first destination – Mae Fah Luang University. The university is located in the foothills of a mountain about 30 km outside of Chiang Rai. To say this campus was beautiful is quite an understatement. I’m a total junky when it comes to visiting college campuses – it’s part of why I want to continue to work in higher education. To this day, I believe the most beautiful campus in the United States is The University of California (UC) at Berkeley. This campus rivaled UC Berkeley – and I don’t throw out that distinction too often, if ever! Upon our arrival, we are quickly escorted to the main building of the campus, where dignitaries & campus officials greet us. We are directed into a meeting room, where I sat through my first of many boring seminars. Part of what made the seminars so boring was the fact that it was ALL in Thai. For comparison, it would be like an Art Historian attending an IRS seminar on the Taxation of Small Corporations. Bored to tears – and then some!

After a grueling morning of informational seminars about the university, and a very quick campus tour, we are ushered back onto the bus. At this point, I think our day is done. It took us nearly 3 hours to get here, the university took up a solid 2 hours; in my mind, the return trip seemed like the logical next step in this process. How sorely mistaken I was. Our journey continued on to another school, which was an additional 30 km from the first school we visited. And wouldn’t it figure – not in the direction of Lampang. On our way, we quickly grabbed lunch at a very scary lunch stand located on the side of the road. Starving, I couldn’t be bothered with the obvious lack of hygiene used in the preparation of our food. At this point in the day, dysentery would be a welcome distraction from the boredom.

Lunch and food-borne parasites fully ingested, we boarded the bus for the trip to our second school of the day. After an hour on the bus, going through some very remote areas of Thailand, we find ourselves at our second and last destination of the day. Upon our arrival, I am taken in by the sharp contrast in appearances, compared with those of our last visit. This complex seemed as though it could function as either a community college, or a concentration camp – both seemed possible to the naked eye. What was even more disheartening – there was not a student in sight. Besides a lonely gardener at the front of the complex, it appeared as though the place was deserted of all life. Even the flowers he was trying to plant looked on the verge of death. I knew this was not going to be nearly as informative as the last visit. I hate it when I’m right!

After rounding the entrance of the school, we are finally greeted by civilization. This included the head of the school and a few other administrators. We are given a brief look-see of the main building, before being herded like cattle into a very cold and very dark boardroom. This is when the true torture began. Same as the previous school, his entire presentation was in Thai. What made it worse – his excessive use of Power Point (known in the US teaching community as “Power Pointless”). There were handouts (all in Thai), as well as intricate diagrams (also, all in Thai). From what I could gather it had something to do with Thailand’s highway and railway infrastructure. All I can say – if this were the method of instruction at this institution, it would definitely explain the lack of students.

At this point, the gentleman had droned on for about 30 minutes. I took the opportunity to search out a facility in which I could relieve myself. That’s right, the boredom of this man initiated a bowel movement in me. Not wanting to use a “squatter” at a service station on our way home, I decided it would be in my best interest to scope out the facilities here. I discovered the facilities were surprisingly preserved, complete with toilet paper, flushing toilets, and hand soap. I was going to be here a while! Thirty minutes later, I returned to the meeting to discover that this man was STILL talking – in Thai. I decided that I was going to have to entertain myself, so I reached into my bag and pulled out my most recent book. With my bag blocking the view of my department head, I had my book in my lap, tearing through pages of George Orwell’s 1984. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we were finally dismissed to a reception of tea, instant coffee, and some Fanta-like juice drink. In addition, we were also served some pastry-type thing. Having completely emptied my system, I was ready to refuel. I tore through 2 pastries, 2 cups of tea, and an iced green tea. Just as the day was beginning to look promising, it was time to get back on the bus for our return trip home.

For those of you who think I am being over dramatic with the boredom of the presentation, I say – take a quick moment to watch the video I recorded during the seminar. That’s right, I busted out my camera mid-meeting and recorded.



Now please realize that this is 30 seconds of footage. His presentation was nearly 90 minutes (5,400 seconds) – watch it 180 times and maybe you’ll begin to understand my day of hell!

There’s a saying, “do something everyday that scares you.” To that I retort – ride a bus through the mountains in Thailand. If motion sickness doesn’t get you, then maybe the flash of your own life on numerous occasions will. Dodging death several times, we finally arrived back to school at 20:30PM, 15 hours since our departure. Suffice it to say – I canceled my classes the following day and took a “mental health day.” It was greatly needed!

I know what you are left thinking – what was the point of your trip to these other educational institutions? I simply answer with – I’m wondering the same thing myself. Not knowing what was being said during any of the meetings, I think the purpose was to show the true spectrum of what life as a teacher could really be like in Thailand. We were showed the Crème de la Crème of institutions in Northern Thailand, as well as land space that would better serve the community as a national park, as opposed to a school. In the end, I’m grateful for my current job as I continue to reach further with my higher-ed career aspirations. That, and always bring a book and toilet paper when you are in Thailand.

Tour de Lampang

Often times while chatting with friends or family members, I am asked questions about my location, as though the recipient has any frame of reference in which to base my statement. Therefore, I thought I'd give you a quick tour of Lampang. Hang on -- It's going to be fast!

I Love Coffee

This is one of the many coffee shops I find myself enjoying an Americano and tea. This is my usual spot for my daytime internet needs, lunch, and my favorite way to spend a Sunday afternoon. On any given Sunday, you are almost guaranteed to find a handful of Westerners here. The atmosphere is a sophisticated blend of Western Pop & Asian Inspired Music, complete with a 50inch LCD television for watching music videos. The yellow walls and lack of AirCon remind you that Starbucks is a million miles away. Yui is the owner of the coffee house, and a real "ball buster" of a woman. Standing only 5 feet, 5 inches, and a whopping 90lbs, she manages to command the attention and authority of all those around her. She is fluent in her English, but still insists on speaking Thai with the Westerners in some capacity or another.

The Riverside

This is one of the most famous places for Westerners to hang-out. Every Thursday evening is half-price pizza night, and the evening when you are assured to find a gaggle of Westerners hanging out, eating, and most definitely drinking at the bar. Though the food is a bit pricey by standards of the Thai Baht, it's a sure fire way to learn what tourists are passing through Lampang at any given point during the week. It is great fun, and the owner Lorenza is a real treat! She owns the Riverside, which also includes a guest house a few kilometers down the road. If pizza & beer is what you're craving -- this is the place to go!

Wireless Coffee Shop

No, this is not the name of the cafe, but in all honesty - I'm not sure if anyone knows the real name. This is my favorite coffee shop in the evening. I can be found here grading papers, planning curricula, or simply catching up on some reading. This is one of the only places in Lampang that has wireless internet, and does not charge you by the hour for using it. The menu includes food options, but a word of caution to the less adventurous traveler - none of it is in English. My order is done by means of "Thailand Roulette" (randomly pointing at the menu and ordering), and thus far I have been pleased with each meal. The coffee house is usually empty, except for evenings when there are random parties. Those can be a bit distracting, especially when they insist on using a microphone in a room that is no larger than your standard Starbucks.

P.S. Apartments (a.k.a. - B.S. Apartments)

This is my lovely home away from home. You are guaranteed to be greeted by my local lobby lesbian with a Swa-dee-ka when you enter. After ascending two flights of stairs, a quick left and a brisk walk to the end of the hall, you will find my home, #208. It is where I rest my head at night, with the sounds of nature either chirping near-by my windows, or in my apartment with me. And yes, I am the only Westerner living at P.S. Apartments. It is affectionately refered to as B.S. Apartments because they over charge for your single room, your water, and electricity. I love the corruption of Thailand!

Grandma's Cafe

Though this was the infamous location of "Pad Thai Gone Wrong," it quickly redeemed itself by being one of the best places for lunch. Not only is it clean, but the menu is translated, however poorly, into English. On any given Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday after classes, I am usually here having lunch and an Americano. Sometimes I am met by other Westerners for some lively conversation. Otherwise, I grab my book and start reading. The interior is influenced by Thai Modernism. The cement floors, exposed conduit, and open rafters inspire a feeling of a coffee house in SoHo. The wait staff is always friendly, and have been knick named; Grandma, Suspenders Girl, & The Other Guy. All of them are about mid-twenties in age, and spend the day lounging around in Grandma's Cafe until patrons arrive. One of the greatest parts of Grandma's Cafe is that you have a direct view of the Soi (street) that leads to the Riverside Guesthouse. This affords you the chance to check out who's in town. If you are eating alone, do not be surprised if a tourist pops in and joins you for lunch. My advice - the company will be well worth it. Never turn down an invitation because who knows, they might invite you to go bowling with them that evening.

I hope you enjoyed the 5 Baht tour of Lampang, Thailand. This is my life - simple, affordable, and incredibly laid-back. So, pack your toilet paper and hand-sanitizer and come join me! You can worry about the other items when you get here ;-)

Nice Sac!

A few years back, I remember watching The Oprah Show. It was one of those episodes where viewers write in and ask Oprah odd questions. I remember one of the questions was, “Oprah, what do you carry in your purse?” While watching the show, my immediate reaction was – that woman doesn’t carry a purse! Oprah can afford an assistant who carries it for her. Besides, even if she didn't have an item in her purse, but she fancied something at any moment in time, she has another assistant to run out and fetch it for her. I remember she had every fancy, name brand product a person could stuff in a purse. And of course, she was carrying around nothing but that season’s hottest Gucci bag – no doubts it was compliments of Gucci! In any regard, I recently had a co-worker ask me about my man purse, and the contents therein. I thought I would let you see the contents of my “DePaul Cares” tote bag, which I schlep around with me on a daily basis. It’s not nearly as fancy as Oprah’s Gucci bag, but just the same, mine was also free – and much more practical.

Poncho – For those days when I’m riding on Bixby, and I’m almost certain I can beat the storm on the horizon. I inevitably lose, but the poncho is always pulled from the bag, and tossed on to shield myself from the rain and spray from passing automobiles. It truly is a lifesaver.

Sunglasses – The Thailand sun is brutal, but what’s worse than that is having rain pelt you in the eyes while you are driving on your motorbike. So, unless it’s dark outside, I am almost always in my sunglasses, shielding my baby blues from the Thai elements.

Umbrella – For those days when I decide to leave Bixby resting in the “car park” at my apartment, and I decide to brave the heat and insanity of the Lampang thoroughfare. It’s an umbrella from the GAP, which has surprisingly survived years of storms in Chicago and continues to prove itself in the torrential down pours of Thailand.

Latest Book -- I always carry my book with me wherever I go. If there is one thing I've discovered about Thailand, it's that nothing starts on time. With that, no one is ever on tiime for appointments, meetings or rendezvous. I have made some major dents in reading just by waiting for people or events to start.

Purell Hand Sanitizer – Thailand is not known for it’s excessive hygiene. They do not concern themselves with washing hands, or wiping things down with Clorox wipes. Depending on where you go, you can be lucky to have running water. Therefore, I am always prepared for those days when you wish you had soap, but there is none to be found in a 30km radius. Bust out the Purell Hand Sanitizer, and I’m good to go. Just a dab will do ya!

Roll of Toilet Paper – After my first day in Bangkok, I quickly knew how valuable this item would be to have with me at ALL times. Imagine if you will, you’ve just eaten a very spicy Thai dinner. It was delicious! While you are picking your teeth clean with the toothpicks at the dinner table, you quickly discover that maybe you should have only done 3 peppers in that last dish, and not the requested 5. All of a sudden your stomach begins to cramp, twist, and then “the sweats” begin! We’ve all been there before – the worst being when it happens on a date – no hook-up for you! In the States, you’d excuse yourself and let nature bellow out of you with the thunderous roar of a Bengal Tiger. In Thailand, you can step away from the table with your sphincter fully clenched, and shimmy to the bathroom as quickly as possible. I suggest praying to Buddha, Allah, God, & the Virgin Mary herself, that the bathroom you are about to enter has all of the Western amenities – a flushing toilet, a fanny hose, toilet paper; heck, even a door that closes properly. Let’s say you get to the bathroom and you discover that it’s a “squatter” and there is a bucket of water next to you … and nothing else. What do you do? (For those of you that don’t know the definition of a “squatter” – imagine the most basic toilet you could possible have: a porcelain hole in the ground.) This is a true scenario and could be you, my friend, when you visit Thailand. I will leave it at – be thankful you carry a roll of toilet paper and the Purel Hand Sanitizer. It’s not an ideal situation, but imagine the alternative. Just a reminder – the left hand is seen as dirty in Asian culture for a VERY specific reason!

Don't Make Me Turn The Hose On Ya!

I finally did it! After two months of living at the P.S. Apartments, I finally decided that I could no longer get by with a simple surface cleaning. I needed to bust out the rubber gloves and get down and dirty. I finally had to clean my bathroom.

Let me begin by telling you about the foulness that was my bathroom. The sink had a film around it so thick, any number of insects could have used it for a breeding ground – and did. The shower drain had a dark brown ring around it – I swear it’s from the untreated water that still has dirt in it – I swear! And don’t even get me started on the toilet. It will suffice to say that those BAM! infomercials use a cleaner toilet in their ‘before’ shot. The toilet was actually beginning to expel an odor not typical of toilets. That’s when I knew I could no longer postpone cleaning.

As we’ve established, I loathe cleaning the bathroom. I despise it more than any other household chore. I will gladly wash an entire sink of dirty dishes – even if it’s all utensils. I will gladly clean the kitchen – including the oven, inside and out. I will gladly dust the knickknacks at my grandmother’s house, using nothing more than a Q-tip and some mild soapy water. I would gladly hand wash all of the Golden Girls' delicates using nothing more than a toothbrush and some Woolite. That is how much I despise cleaning the bathroom. However, my dislike for cleaning the bathroom is equally feathered by my dislike for a dirty bathroom. It’s a bit of a catch-22 in my life. I discussed this very topic with a few of my fellow expats this weekend during our trip to Chiang Mai. From a rather surly Englishman, I learned the quick and effective way to clean one’s bathroom in Thailand. I pondered this approach, and although it was met with slight resistance from other Westerners – I decided to give it a try.

The approach I speak of requires a bucket, a sponge or brush with a handle, and a hose. I had all of the required utensils for this activity – I was ready to begin. I quickly removed all of the items off the floor of my bathroom. This included items under the sink, as well as the supplies in the shower (as if there’s a partition anywhere in the bathroom). Setting these items safely in the other room, I took to washing my bathroom – “Englishman” style.

First, I took the hose – remember the hose I described as the ‘redneck bidet?’ Yes, the same hose that is used in less glamorous places, is the same hose I used to clean my entire bathroom. Apparently this is where the controversy arose among the other expats, as it is a questionable technique. I argue, a clean hole is a clean hose – spray away! And that’s exactly what I did – I took the hose and just started spraying. Everything that was covered in tile was sprayed down with my “fanny hose.” I was like a zookeeper in the elephant cage – just spraying the place down of all the grit, grim, and foulness. You name it – it got sprayed down. The toilet, under the toilet, behind the toilet, in the toilet, in the sink, around the sink, under the sink, the shower area; each area got a healthy spray like I was watering mother’s flowers mid-drought season. Realizing that a simple hose down in Thailand is considered clean, I took it one step further by utilizing the bucket full of sudsy water and the sponge. I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed that bathroom floor so clean – I swear I saw my reflection! It’s a good thing my bathroom isn’t very large, otherwise this could have been an all day process. After I finished the scrub down, I engaged the “fanny hose” once more and sprayed it down again.

After I completed the second spray down, I had to stop and think – this wasn’t so bad! There is something to be said about having a bathroom completely lined in tiles with no partitions. The water simply sloped down to the drain in the floor near the shower head. Any water that is left will simply evaporate given the natural heat of Thailand. It was the easiest bathroom cleaning I’d done in ages! I was so enthralled with the success of this method, that it spawned an orgy of cleaning my whole apartment. Again, it’s a good thing it’s only one room, otherwise this could have been an all day process.

As I finished with my cleaning, I got to thinking about habitats and the territory we mark as our own. I thought about my territory, and how I don’t have much physical space in this world. Currently, I have a one room apartment and a bathroom to call my “own.” And in the friendly confines of this simple space, I have all I need. I started to think about the boxes of shoes and clothes and books and DVDs and more shoes and other random stuff that is being graciously housed by various members of my family back in Illinois. What is all this “stuff?” Items I am hanging onto because I feel it quantifies my existence? I have none of those items here with me, and I am living perfectly fine. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t tell you what is in half those boxes and bags back home. I have completely forgotten what cluttered my apartment. My most prized possessions here in Thailand include letters from family & friends, as well as my laptop computer. After it’s all said and done, I have to remember that it’s not our possessions that make us rich, it’s the experiences we’ve had along the way, and the people we’ve touched during our journey. These are the things that should clutter my space because that is what truly makes this one room apartment, a home.

Lesbian Loafers

In a recent blog entitled, "Rub One Out," I attempted to describe the Thai fisherman pants that I had such difficulties with putting on. Well, here is a quick video demonstration of my newest purchase here in Thailand -- now do you understand the difficulties I faced when I was given the simple instructions of "put these on?"



For my gays back in the States -- you knew this lesbian moment was coming, it was simply a matter of when. You can only pray the pants get lost between now and my return trip home, otherwise get ready to see them every day during the summer!

Hanging High In Chiang Mai

Bowling Bollocks

This past weekend, I quite possibly had the most fun since I’ve been in Thailand. The weekend started with nothing out of the ordinary. I received a call from a fellow Ferrang on Friday afternoon asking if I’d be interested in going bowling that evening. As always, I jump at any invitation that will get me out of the “BS Apartments” and away from any sharp objects. A party of five of us goes bowling at the Lampang Bowl-o-Rama. Basically, it is a no-frills bowling alley with beer and bad pop music. During one of our sets, I am informed that there is a small group heading up to Chiang Mai the following day – was I interested in joining? Was I ever! A weekend out of Lampang was exactly what I needed. Having been here nearly two months, I thought a change of scenery would do me good. Little did I know I was in for a drastic change in perspective.

The following day, in the early afternoon, five of us piled into a Honda Civic and begin the ninety-minute drive North to Chiang Mai. As we began our trek north, I started to think about the hustle & bustle of urban life. I was flushed with memories of living in Chicago, trips to San Francisco, and vacations in New York City. I remembered the energy, excitement, and enthusiasm that radiated through these urban jungles and concrete playgrounds. I was excited to have that energy coursing through my veins again!

As we entered the city, I realized that Chiang Mai would not meet my U.S. expectations. I’ll have to find something else to course through my veins for the weekend. My perspective had transitioned so much from urban jungles like Chicago, to the rice fields of Lampang, that I almost forgot the middle ground. That’s exactly what Chiang Mai is – the middle ground. If Bangkok is the New York City of Thailand, then Chiang Mai could best be equated to … Columbus, Ohio. That’s not a slam against C-Bus; it’s a great city! However, compared to Chicago, New York City, San Francisco, or even Los Angeles, let’s be honest; it barely blinks on the radar. This was my experience with Chiang Mai, but given that I’ve lived in the rice fields of Lampang for nearly two months now – I was not about to become choosey with the metropolis that surrounded me.


Chiang Mai is a relatively large city, and the city center is the oldest part of the city, and I also learn the Ferrang Area of the city. The city center is an ancient area that was at one point all that Chiang Mai consisted of. The original brick battle walls and moat still surround the area, and center on Tha Phae Gate – the original entrance to the city. To give you some idea of how “westernized” this area is – I saw not one, not two, but three Starbucks in a 10 block walk. Not nearly as many as Chicago, but Chiang Mai is an emerging market for the company. And true to Starbucks corporate greed, I nearly fell over when I saw that they wanted 200 Baht ($5.90) for a cup of coffee. Not only is this expensive in US dollars, but to put things into perspective for you – even the most pricey cup of coffee at the local coffee shop will only be a maximum of 60 Baht ($1.75). Usually closer to 30 or 40 Baht. Needless to say, I did not partake in the Starbucks drinking experience while in Chiang Mai. I had to laugh when I looked through the window though, and saw two rather portly US tourists sipping their venti frappa-fatty drinks, while flipping through their guide book, and wearing shorts and tank tops. The thing that pointed them out as being from the states – the size. It’s amazing how large United States citizens are in comparison to the rest of the Western world. Shocking and appalling – a real eye opener!

Hanging High In Chiang Mai

After a quick ride through the town, a fellow Ferrang and I made finding a guesthouse for the night our first order of business. The ferrang I was with was a seasoned veteran to the city, as she’s been living in Lampang for nearly three years. She directs me to a guesthouse she often stays at when she is here. I had heard some stories of what to expect at certain guesthouses and hostels when you are backpacking through foreign lands. I’ve heard the horror stories of cockroaches, bed bugs, lizards, snakes, and other wild life that I was not interested in having as roommates for the evening. After a short walk, we stumble upon our digs for the evening – “Supreme Guesthouse.” This is where I realized that my perspective had changed drastically in the two short months that I’ve lived here. Had you dropped me off at this place two months ago, I would have surely freaked out! The guesthouse is basically one room with a fan, bed, cabinet, and bathroom. The bathroom has a sink, toilet, showerhead, and a small plastic mirror affixed to the wall. Hardly the Four Seasons – heck, it’s hardly a Motel 6. Now, after having spent the past two months living in Thailand and seeing what living conditions can really be like – I was completely at ease with this guesthouse. There were no cockroaches when I flicked on the bathroom light, the bed seemed to be free of any bed bugs, and the windows all had screens on them. It was indeed – Supreme!

After quickly getting settled, we decided to explore the city. I was a virgin to the Chiang Mai experience, and thankfully I had a seasoned veteran with me to give me the skinny on all the city had to offer. We started by getting a coffee, but not at Starbucks. Like any good expat, we went to a local coffee shop, where the coffee is strong, cheap and the ambiance is plentiful. Next thing we needed – food! We went to an amazing Jewish restaurant for sandwiches. They were delicious! The only thing my mouth was missing while eating was some Thai spices. Otherwise, this tuna avocado pita was heaven in my mouth. Afterward, we decided to get an early evening massage at the local temple. This proved to be a much better experience than my last Thai massage. For starters, the massage was done in an open space where other Thai masseurs were also giving massages. In true Thai fashion, this woman was about half my height, but had the aggression of a “roids junky” fresh out of his juice. And, she didn’t make a play for my rig like the last indecent lady I received a Thai massage from. I floated away feeling like I was 17 again – and just as pure!

After a much needed nap, it was time to begin our evening! We started off by having dinner at a Mexican Restaurant. If you ever want to try something weird – eat Mexican food on the other side of the planet. I couldn’t be further from Mexico, but sure enough – they knew how to make a proper chicken fajita with the spiciness of Northern Thailand. It was nothing as it compares to home; after all, Mexican food in Chicago is like borrowing a cup of cilantro from the neighbors. Mexico is so close; we should know how to do have excellent Mexican food. It’d be the equivalent of having bad Chinese food here in Thailand – it just doesn’t seem right.

Our attempt at Mexican food led us on a trip to the Chiang Mai night Bizarre. Whenever I hear the word “bizarre,” I immediately think of “crap being sold by people who own a hot glue gun.” My perception of this word has not changed since visiting the night bizarre in Chiang Mai. Image a sidewalk, filled on both sides with vendor booths. Any time you stop to even glance at something, vendors who are selling their wares immediately bombard you. If you don’t stop to look at their wares, the vendors will grab at your arms or tap you on the shoulder to look at their goods. It’s like walking through an orgy that you want nothing to do with. And the best part about the stuff that is being sold there – all crap! I bought three new patches for my tote bag. The only thing gayer than a tote bag is a gay man carrying a tote bag that has been be-dazzled with patches, pins, and other pieces of flare. I can’t wait to add the new flare to my tote!

As the night wore on, we found ourselves bar hopping from bar to bar. Throughout the evening, I found myself at two very interesting points of interest. The first stop on the tour of Chiang Mai was “the van.” It is affectionately referred to as such because it quite literally is a van that is parked in the parking lot in front of a doctor’s office. The van is open after the doctor’s office is closed, and it opens up to serve drinks. That’s right – imagine your mom’s Chrysler Town & Country Minivan circa 1980, complete with wood paneling, serving alcohol from the side door and back hatch. Oh yeah – it’s done up Thai style. The party I was with was drinking “sex on the beach,” though it looked more like “post-coital sweaty sex sheets” served in a mason jar with a handle. I am quite disappointed that I didn’t snap photos of this – it was quite the experience. After the group had decided they’d had enough of the liquid sludge they were drinking, someone had the great idea of taking the party over to the local nightclub to dance. This is when I truly experienced Chiang Mai for all it had to offer.

“The Van” is located next to a coffee house called Spicy. A little background – Spicy is apparently a “cruisy” coffee house during the day, which turns into a meat market dance club as the night drudges on. By the time we were headed there, the meat market was in full force. Upon walking into the bar, I was immediately on sensory overload. If “Spicy” was the way this bar was supposed to taste, then “funky” was the way this place smelled. I would like for you to imagine a dance club in Thailand, where you have all mixes of the western world who are backpacking through the country. Some consider a dip in the city moat an effective showering method. Now take those bodies that haven’t been washed for days, maybe even weeks, on end, and get them sweaty with dancing. That, my friends, is what I was walking into. This was high school gym locker room times about infinity. There is no way to describe the smell that knocks you in the face when you first walk in the door. As if the smell wasn’t bad enough, I’d like to walk you through the club. Imagine a Thailand dance club, but there are only a handful of Thai people in the club (mostly servers), the rest are backpackers from the western world. We had Australia dancing with Iceland; Germany getting cozy with Canada; France mingling with England; and my favorite, U.S. making out with India. In essence, it was the United Nations of dance parties, all set to the theme of Jock Jams volumes 1 & 2. At this point, it was near 04:00AM, and I was spent. Having not stayed up that late in months, I was thrilled when my fellow ferrang decided she wanted to go back to the guesthouse.

The following day I spent the day paying for staying up way too late. Thankfully, the other ferrang were also moving slow and it afforded me some much needed down time. I got to thinking about my decision to come to Lampang to be an ESL teacher. For those of you that are unaware, I also had the opportunity to work in Bangkok. After some deep thought and reflection, I decided that I wanted a true Thailand experience and therefore chose Lampang as my final destination for the ESL experience. After visiting Chiang Mai this weekend, it reaffirmed that I made the right decision by choosing Lampang. In Lampang, I am fully immersed in the Thai culture. I don’t have the choice of going to Burger King or McDonalds, or getting my coffee from Starbucks. I have to learn the language, eat the food, and understand what it’s like to be part of a minority group. Don’t get me wrong, living in Bangkok or Chiang Mai would be so much easier, but I didn’t take this experience because I thought it would be easy. I took this experience for exactly that – the experience of living abroad in a culture that is completely foreign to me. I wanted something that would challenge me physically and emotionally. I wanted something that would test me to my very core. I’ve discovered that this experience has been exactly that – and it’s refreshing to know that when I need a break from Lampang, Chiang Mai is a short, crazy bus ride north.

Curious Cuisine

For those of you that don’t know, I love to eat! With that being said, I am also in a constant state of hunger. My family has referred to my eating habits as “grazing,” similar to that of a cow grazing in a field. Holidays are my favorite because I am constantly surrounded by food. In fact, I am quite the disappointment at the dinner table because I barely eat. But sure enough, as soon as the dishes are cleared from the table, I am in the kitchen looking for more to eat. Well, I couldn’t’ have found a better culture to be apart of because the Thai people love to eat as well. I thought I could put back some food, but I have met Thai people half my size who have been able to put away more food than a family at the Old Country Buffet. The Thai culture also likes to share their food. Anytime a Thai teacher comes into work with food, they always bring enough to pass around to the other teachers. Most of them enjoy telling us the name of the food in Thai, and then try to explain it in English. Most often, this sharing of food is very pleasant. It broadens my horizons on Thai culture, as well as scores me the occasional free meal for the day. I am almost always a willing participant – that was, until this fateful Monday morning.

Arriving to school on Monday morning, I was anxious to begin the day. Normally, I’m not one to look forward to a Monday morning, but the following day was the Queen’s Birthday. God save the Queen and all that patriotic hoopla. What I was really looking forward to was the day off of school. I came in prepared to have very few students come to class, and those who did show up would be entertained with a movie – The Incredibles perhaps? I was still unsure where my curriculum would lead me at 7:45AM that morning, but what was more surprising was where my appetite led me.

The teachers share a refrigerator which is located in our office. In the morning, the Thai teachers will undoubtedly come and place their food in the fridge. Or, if they have food to share, they will set it on top of the fridge for all to enjoy – including the ants. Today was no different. One of the Thai teachers came in with her lunch. I’m still unsure how the conversation started because I was engrossed in an email at the time, but as I glanced up I have one of the Thai teachers standing next to me with her lunch in a Tupperware container. Not entirely sure what I missed out on, a fellow English teacher tells me to check out what’s she packing for lunch. She slowly slid the lid back, like a little kid who just caught a fire fly and doesn’t want it to fly away. There amid a bed of white rice and vegetables lies the main course of her lunch – fried grasshoppers! She smiled and offered me one. I glanced up with a smile that was trying to hide my repugnant look of shock. Pinned at my desk between the Thai teacher on one side, and a brick wall on the other, I am trapped like a moth in a jar. I glance over to my English colleague who is just smiling at me; enjoying every moment of my pain. In an attempt to shift the focus, I strategically asked my colleague if he’s tried one. However, my ruse didn’t work, as she remained standing there with the container.

At first I respectfully declined by saying, “No thank you, I already had breakfast this morning.” She smiled, closed her Tupperware container and walked away like it was a precious chemical that can’t be shaken or stirred by too much movement. Still smiling, my fellow English faculty member said, “Hey Josh, I’ll try one if you try one.” The Thai teacher spun around on her toes with the speed and accuracy of an Olympic gymnast about to continue with the rest of her routine. You should have seen her face; a bright smile, eyes sparkling, holding the Tupperware container out like a peace offering to the Gods. Not wanting to crush her spirits I agreed to this arrangement with my fellow English teacher. I grabbed the bottle of water from my desk and proceed to walk the length of the room like a man on death row. Now, the Thai teacher has the Tupperware container fully open and I have the choice of which hopper I’d like to consumer. There they were, all staring up at me with their shinny black eyes, and their bodies frozen in their own deep fried shell. I reached in for my grasshopper of choice and plucked him off his bed of rice. At this point, I was standing near the exit of the office with my mid-morning snack and a full bottle of water. The water – in case I needed to quickly get the taste, texture or tentacles out of my mouth. Standing near the exit – in case it turns out that more than just the grasshopper isn’t settling so well and I can rush to the toilet as fast as my flip-flopped feet will carry me.

The next thing I know, I am bringing the grasshopper up to my mouth. The entire time I am maintaining eye contact with him, right up to the point of him being subjected to the dark cavern of my puss. It is then that I began the first step of the digestion process – chewing!

Immediately, I was pleasantly surprised by the use of spices to garnish the little bugger. Using my molars, I chomped down on it with the ferocity of a dog chewing on a bone. Initially, I was expecting there to be a pop of liquid, like when you bite down on a Gushers fruit snack, or a seedless grape. To my surprise, this did not occur. The next thing I notice is the taste. The little bugger has been garnished with spices galore – similar to when you make pumpkin seeds with a Martha Stewart receipie. As I continued chewing, I am surprised by the texture. Oddly enough, the only thing I could compare this experience to is movie theatre popcorn. But instead of being the white fluffy part, imagine the shell that the kernel is initially incased in, prior to the popping process. That’s sort of the way the entire thing tasted. Like when you get to the last of the popcorn and all that’s left is the kernels that lacked the will to fully pop. I finished chewing and swallowed without so much as a drop of water to lubricate the throat, let alone a mad dash to the toilet for immediate purging.

The Thai teacher soon packed away her lunch in the fridge, and I was left to contemplate the whole experience. After I finished picking the tentacles from my teeth, I couldn’t help but wonder what the grasshopper would taste like with a little bit of chocolate sauce, or even some ranch dressing. It made me begin to reconsider those people who ate the cicada every 17 years. Maybe I’ll take up a new tradition of deep frying them for my Memorial Day party back in the states! A veggie platter complete with baby carrots, sliced cucumbers, broccoli, and cicada all centered around a bowl of Hidden Valley Ranch. And they say I can’t cook – Bon Appetite!

Welcome to the Jungle

Tad Tung Kwian Market (aka - Jungle Market)

Remember when I first got Bixby and he and I decided to drive out of town to find the “Jungle Market?” Do you remember that I happened to stumble upon the Thai Elephant Conservation Center instead? Well, with the help of some fellow Ferrang, I finally stumbled upon the "Jungle Market" today, and let me tell you what an experience that was.

A little background for you, the market is officially called Kad Tung Kwian. It quite literally translates to mean a field of horse drawn carts. The local Ferrang affectionately coined it the “Jungle Market” or the “Crazy Market.” If you ask any Westerner in the Lampang area, they will more than likely know what you are referring to. Don’t get me wrong, the market actually has some great things to purchase, but let me just say that I am happy to know that this is not the type of market that is situated near my home, otherwise I’d be about 13.6 kilograms (30 lbs) lighter than I already am. Prior to our arrival, I was warned by some of the more seasoned Ferrang about what I would encounter at the “Jungle Market,” but I was still not prepared for what I experienced.

To start off, the market is up in the hills, about 20 kilometers (12.5 miles) north of Lampang, on your way to Chiang Mai. It is quite literally right before you get to the Thai Elephant Conservation Center – how I missed it the first go around, I am still baffled. The nickname was spawned because it is situated in the hills, and there is not much around besides, well, the jungle, really. After parking the car we begin to explore the market. As I am the only “Jungle Market” virgin with the group, I obviously brought my camera to document the whole thing. We start by exploring the food vendors, because I’m told this is the craziest part of the market. This was quite the understatement.

At first glance, the food portion of the market seems to be your average Thai market. Sure, there are some bizarre things that you wouldn’t find at a Western style market, but I think I’ve grown accustomed to these things at this point. So accustomed, in fact, that I don’t even know what to describe to you as odd about the first few stands we walked by. The usual breads, fruits, seeds, and the rest of those things that keep you ‘regular’ with beautiful skin. However, this quickly changed as we made our way toward the back of the market.

As we ventured toward the back, we quickly came across a vendor with a table of nothing but fried bugs. You name it, they had fried it up, I presume seasoned it, and put it to be sold by the kilogram. They had crickets, cockroaches, maggots, and a few other former larva that I couldn’t quite place. My favorite part was when the woman brought out a “fresh” batch of maggots that she had just taken out of the cooker (a student taught me that fried maggots is translated into “instant fried” in English – don’t ask how this came up in class, I’m dumbfounded myself sometimes). She was obviously a seasoned pro at this, because she did this with an enormous amount of accuracy and perseverance so as to avoid having the maggots mix in with the other piles of fried bugs on the same table. It was like she was simply restocking the “buy-by-bulk-bins” at the grocery store. Similar to the grocery store – there was a little saucer type dish in each pan. The vendor would give you a bag to scoop your own beasties into the bag. Just like buying peanuts in the shell or Brach’s caramels in bulk at the local grocer, you would scoop up your desired amount and take it to her to be weighed. The only thing missing was the machine that prints out the automatic barcode for when you go up to the register to pay, otherwise it was just like home – minus the tentacles. No big deal – I’d seen the vendors at the market by my house occasionally selling bugs. However, I will say that this woman had the most variety and bulk I’d seen in bugs thus far in Thailand. Impressive, to say the least.

As we proceed down the aisle, I am taken aback by two vendors in the same section who are selling pork. Now, I’ve been to the butcher shop in the states before. Usually the meat is on ice or finely ground down and sitting on a pan of sorts – awaiting your carnivorous appetite to take it home. Well, gone are the days of glass enclosures, or even skinning the meat before you put it out for display. I walk up to this table of freshly cut pig and the skin is still the outermost layer on the cutlet. I was not raised on a farm, but I’ve seen my share of pigs in the past. I’m not even joking with you when I say this had to be at least 3 porkers whose existence was now reduced to being piled high on a table at the “Jungle Market.” As if this wasn’t enough to turn most Westerners into vegetarians on-the-spot, there was a bucket next to the table. Let me clarify “next to the table.” What I really mean is, it was definitely in the aisle in plain view for all to see. What was the purpose of the bucket you ask? Oh, that’s simple – it was there to collect the blood as it drained from the freshly killed “Wilburs.” Trust me when I say I’ve seen some blatantly foul things in my day. I mean, my previous job was in housing services at a university – I’ve seen and smelled things that most people would lose their lunch over. This bucket collecting the once vital fluid of this swine was quite possibly one of the sickest things I’ve seen. The bucket was nearly filled a third of the way to the top, and the drops continued to come out. Like a faucet that’s been left running so the pipes won’t freeze, the blood continued to trickle out. And never mind having the meat sit on ice – I think we were lucky the pigs weren’t being escorted in on the spot! Eliminating pork from my dinner options for the evening, we decided to continue on in the market.

Next stop – the poultry department. Or, at least that’s what I would have classified this section as if I were in a traditional grocer in the Western world. Something tells me though, the local Jewel or Dominick’s wouldn’t be selling any of these products. The first product we encountered were fried chicken or turkey intestines – and like everything in Thailand, it was on a stick. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; if you want to sell any food product in Thailand, put it on a stick – especially meat! They will quite literally eat it up. Turkey intestines, that’s fine! I grew up with grandparents who were fresh off the boat from Germany who swore that the best part about the Thanksgiving holiday was the bag of innards that came along with the turkey. Not sharing in their choice of cuisine, I understood this was a part of their culture and tradition. What I was not prepared for was the the skewered poultry embryos that really set me off. Yes, embryo, as in almost fully developed bird of some kind. Curious how you get an embryo on a stick? I wasn’t either, but I was certainly told anyway. I learned that when they embryo is in its final stages of development, the egg is severed with a stick, the shell is cracked off, and the embryo is cooked and seasoned to eat. I’ve also been told that sometimes they leave the shell on. There went all of my good thoughts about the Thanksgiving holiday, or eating eggs in general. Eliminating chicken and egg from my dinner options for the evening, we continue throughout the rest of the market.

My favorite part about the whole experience was the fact that we also had two self-proclaimed vegetarians, and to tell you the honest truth – after this experience I was thinking maybe there’s something to that lifestyle. After all, the worse thing you’ll find with vegetables is the occasional bug or bruise. The remainder of the “Jungle Market” was relatively tame, compared to the ‘food’ area. There were some caged animals, whose fate I had seen only moments prior. The best part of the market was the non-food items they were selling. I bought myself two Thai-style shirts for the bargain price of 250 Baht ($7.15). I also noticed some great gift ideas for my family and friends. That’s right – bulk purchase of ‘hoppers’ for stocking stuffers! Merry Christmas from Thailand.

Running Rampang with Religion

Wat Phra That Lampang Luang

They say there are two topics you should try to avoid during a dinner party: politics and religion. Well, please put down your dinner fork, fold the napkin, and scoot your chair away from the table because I am about to step into the religious portion of my trip thus far.

Today, a few Ferrang and I went to the Wat Phrathat Lampang Luang. One of the oldest and most sacred temples in all of Northern Thailand, this is definitely a must-see when you come to Lampang. Incidentally, this Tuesday, August 12, is the Queen’s Birthday, and also Thai Mother’s Day. In Thailand, Mother’s Day is celebrated in conjunction with the Queen’s birthday. I began to question what happens when a new queen comes into succession, and none of the Thai natives were able to answer me. At first this sounded ridiculous – as though Mother’s Day could change with a new Royal Family. However, as I contemplated this more, I quickly decided that it was no more arbitrary than our Mother’s Day celebration in the US. The Thai one at least coincided with a respected figurehead of the nation. As far as I know, Mother’s Day in the US is based on consumerism and the greed of companies like Hallmark and 1-800-Flowers. Nonetheless, the Wat was packed with people paying homage to their mothers and to the Queen.

Our trip started by going up this massive staircase into the main complex. The Buddhist Monks were there, chanting and praying with various groups of people around the Wihan Luang. The temple is this beautiful open space, with an amazing shrine at the front. The detail of the place is exquisite. Every pillar has intricate artwork stenciled on it, and the ceiling has these amazing mosaic pieces. After saying a quick prayer, the Ferrangs and I continued to explore the rest of the Wat. One of the most spectacular sites is the Main Chedi, which is said to contain a hair from the Buddha – hence its sacredness. Additionally, there are two adjacent buildings that allow you to see an image of the Chedi projected against a wall. It’s hard to describe, but a tiny opening in the Ho Phra Phuttabat, about the size of a quarter, allows the entire image of the Chedi to be projected onto the white wall inside this building. This building, the Ho Phra Phuttabat, is restricted to men only. Words cannot describe how beautiful this image is, and I can only leave it at it being similar to when you view a solar eclipse with a sheet of white paper and a pinhole. The projection is so gripping and accurate that you can see the shadows of various people moving around the Wat as you gaze at it.

We continued to walk around the Wat and take in the beauty and serenity of the area. During this time, I began to think about spirituality, religion, and everything that goes along with this very taboo topic. Before I begin my dissertation on religion, I should start by letting you know a bit about my religious culture. I was raised as a Christian. My family and I would go to church nearly every Sunday to a Non-Denominational Evangelical-Free Christian Church. To this day I still don’t know what that means, other than the fact that we were raised Christian, believing Jesus Christ died on the cross for our sins. I think I was baptized as a baby, and I know for certain I took part in Confirmation and Communion at the ripe old age of thirteen. I’m not one to label myself, but when I have to check the “religion” box on a questionnaire, I usually check Agnostic or Other. At present, I consider myself a very spiritual person, who is still searching for MY path with God. I do not believe I need to identify myself as Christian simply because that was the religion I was raised with. To me, that seems as asinine as choosing your political party based solely on whom your parents voted for in the last election.

I was always interested in different religious practices. During junior high school, my brother and I were always invited to the Bar or Bat Mitzvah of the token Hebrew kids within our dominantly Christian community. I was fascinated by the traditions, the Hebrew language, as well as the culture. Looking back, I assume they assumed we were also Jewish. To this day, I still have Jewish women ask me if I’m a Jew. I always smile and say, “You would think, given my last name and prominent features, but I’m not.” Then I tell them I’m gay and this really kills their hopes of bringing a good-looking Faux-Jew home to their Mother. In addition to my fascination with different religion, I was also intrigued by different cultures and traditions. Growing up in a relatively homogeneous town, it was often difficult to gain exposure to these types of things. Like most people, college is when I began to experiment and explore all sorts of different cultures that were unlike my own. However, it wasn’t until graduate school that I really started to understand how much religion is as much a part of your culture as your language, clothing, or food.

Here in Asia, I am quite literally on the other side of the world from my previous culture. In my short time here, it is abundantly clear to me how big a roll your culture plays in who you are. Thailand is a completely different culture from my own. Thai people eat different foods than what we eat back at home – trust me when I say Pad Thai with chicken is a totally different dish here in Thailand. They dress differently – trust me when I say that the Thai culture has embraced some aspects of Western culture, but for the most part they still have a distinctive style in clothing. And don’t even get me started on the language difference. I would gladly take a Spanish, Dutch, German or French speaking country – there are at least some language similarities. In Thai, the only words that translate to English without a problem are words like dictionary, Internet, and 7-11. Otherwise, the Thai language is very different from English.

One of the other things I also learned in graduate school was the idea of gratitude and privilege. I can honestly say I’ve been blessed in my life, and I thank God daily for the gifts I have been blessed with. I was born into privilege, which I had no control over – it was simply handed to me. I did not ask to be born white, or male, or middle-class. These were aspects of my life that were randomly assigned to me – same as my culture. I did not choose to be born in the United States versus Thailand or China or Japan.

This experience has prompted me to think about what if things had been assigned to me differently. Suppose for a moment that I had been born in Thailand, and lived in a very small village, with no electricity or running water, and the Buddhist Monk in the village was the only person who knew how to read and write. Never mind seeing cultures that were different from my own; that’d be a concept I was unable to grasp with my limited education. But still I prayed every day at the Buddhist Temple in my village, as well as the shrine my family has in the one room wooden shack we live in. I also led a very pious life. I never stole, I never killed anyone, I didn’t lie, I honored my father and my mother, and all that other hoopla that goes along with Christian Dogma. According to Christianity, I would go to straight to hell without so much as a second glance from God because I did not believe that Jesus Christ died on the cross for my sins. What gets me though – I was never given the opportunity to meet Jesus Christ. I didn’t have the missionaries or the Mormon Elders come spread the word about Jesus Christ in my little Thai village. The little sisters of St. Francis never made it to my village to start an orphanage or any sort of Christian outreach. So, because I was dealt a very shitty hand by God, I am automatically going to hell. Thanks for playing – my eternity will be spent in a lake of fire with Lucifer and the rest of the unfortunate souls who were not given the opportunity to meet a Christian and hear the word of God, or learn about Jesus Christ who died on the cross for my sins so I could go to heaven. That my fellow readers, is my problem with religion – it simply doesn’t take into account other cultures.

I had the opportunity to learn from some very amazing individuals during my graduate internship. One of the words of wisdom that was imparted on me was, religion is not the enemy, it’s the individuals who use religion as an argument for oppressing others – usually the marginalized. This is why I have come to label myself as spiritual. I believe in human dignity. Strip it all away and what’s left is a human being – a creation of God. I believe there are certain tenants that are universal in all religions. It’s these tenants that I am learning to live my life by. Spirituality is a journey in our life and continues to evolve as we progress in our selves. When I pray, I pray to a universal God – it doesn’t matter if I’m in a Mosque, Temple, or Wat. God is there listening because to tell you the truth, I don’t think any religion has it right. In the end, I believe we are all going to see that it’s much more simple than we originally thought. All of these religious wars will have been a futile waste of time because when it’s all over, those fighting will quickly discover that it’s time that should have been spent worshiping and loving one another. What we can do while we’re here on this planet with our physical self is learn to treat all of God’s creations with the same love, and respect that is inherent – that is embrace every human being for simply that purpose – they are a human, just like you and me.

My request is simple. Next time you see someone who looks or acts different from yourself – before you jump the gun with your stereotypes and pre-judgments, take a moment and think about this. This is simply a person, same as you. Sure they may dress different, but you wear clothes too, don’t you? Sure, the food they eat may look different, but you eat too, don’t you? Sure, the language may sound funny, but you communicate too, don’t you? Sure, the religion may seem strange, but you pray too, don’t you?

Why You No Smile?

If there is one thing I’ve learned in my short time here in Thailand, it is that I do not feign smiles, niceties, or my ability to like people that I detest. This makes it rather difficult to assimilate to the Thai culture because this is a land that requires an individual to smile at ALL times, and it is considered taboo to show any other emotions in the public realm.

One of the things I enjoyed about previous positions in the states was the fact that I had my confidants who I could blow off some steam with. Whether that be calling a colleague a derogatory term for the female anatomy mid team meeting, or throwing out the occasional F-bomb when things were really hitting an all-time low. I was gifted with having the ability to throw out these terms sporadically, but with conviction that let my colleagues know I was serious about my position on a certain topic. I have also been gifted with the ability to let others know my position on a topic without having to utter a word. A look is worth a thousand judgments, and sometimes that is more powerful than anything I can say.

Today, I went into work as I usually do on any given morning. I had on my usual teacher uniform, a polo sporting the school logo, khaki pants, and my flip-flops. I am following the culture, because all of the Thai teachers in my department wear these open toed “house slippers” when they are shuffling around the office. Some even sport no shoes and walk around barefoot – I find it kind of disgusting, but I suppose it’s all part of the culture. I simply follow suit. I leave my black loafers at work, and change into them prior to teaching any classes. Sure enough, as soon as I’m done teaching, the loafers come off and the thongs go back on. On Thursdays, I don’t teach until the latter half of the day, so I don’t see the point in putting on my loafers until I have to enter the classroom.

This morning, like most Thursday mornings, I headed into the office to prepare for my class at 13:00PM. I discovered that I needed copies made for later in the day. Side note – all copies need to be signed off by this specific Thai teacher, and the copies are then made by the teacher in the resource center (insert obvious facial expression here). Anyway, I needed to get a signature from one of the teachers who are a bit higher on the Thai Bamboo Ladder. Fine, I ask her for her signature on a weekly basis – today shouldn’t be any different.

I approach her with my slip of paper and the resources that I need to have photocopied. While she is signing the slip of paper, she happens to glance down at my feet. After she finishes signing, she asks me, “What’s wrong with your feet?” I glance down at my feet, not sure if maybe I scratched my toe on something without noticing. Upon glancing down, I realize my toes are as they’ve always been. For those of that have seen my feet, you know that I will never be a foot model. My foot is abnormally wide, given my slender frame. Additionally, my toes are like a vultures claws that have been useful when wrestling with others, or a great party favor when I pick up objects, not to mention my freakishly large big toe that would require an entire bottle of nail lacquer if I painted them. However, I have to admit that I do my part to make them as presentable as possible with trimming, exfoliating, moisturizing, and other general maintenance. Truth be told, no they are not the prettiest feature on my body, but we all have our flaws. Returning to the conversation still a bit perplexed, I question the Thai teacher again, making sure I understood her correctly. She repeats herself, with a smile of course, and tells me that I should wear proper shoes to correct the imperfections. It took every ounce of self-control to bite my spiteful American tongue, smile, thank her for signing the sheet, and walk out of her office with my “ugly feet.”

I am still trying to wrap my head around this comment. Was she implying that my feet were ugly? Thanks for the newsflash, captain obvious! Was she insinuating that I should not be wearing flip-flops? Mind you, she’s barefoot during this entire conversation, so that seems a bit hypocritical if you ask me. I’ve always been a fan of the direct approach – don’t beat around the bush, especially when it comes to stupid shit like dress code. I am baffled by the fact that she would say this to me. It would be like me telling her that she shouldn’t smile because she has jacked up teeth. And believe you me; this woman’s grill looks like it was in a high-speed collision with something three times its size. Do I tell her that she should keep her mouth shut? No, because in my culture that would be considered rude.

I think this culture is going to test me in a few different aspects of life. For one, I have to learn to feign a smile that is as fake. However, I do not plan to loose my ability to speak with my face – as long as I do it with a fake smile, it’s better than saying what is really on my mind. In short, I think I’m going to try a new approach with this culture. I want to see if I can act like a 75 year old man, who can speak anything that comes to his mind. I just need to make sure I don’t forget to smile!

Rub One Out

The past few weeks had been pretty tough, so when a fellow Ferrang suggested we go get massages, I jumped at the chance. We decided to go out to the Thai Herbal Center, which is located a few kilometers on the outskirts of town. After arriving, I knew this was going to be an experience I would not soon forget. The Thai Herbal Center is located off the main road and hidden in foliage. The campus is very picturesque, with several buildings surrounded by trees and wildlife – in short, a little slice of Thai heaven. The four of us proceed to the main building, where we tell the woman behind the counter what we want to do for our day of relaxation. Looking at the menu, and taking the advice of a fellow Ferrang, I decided to do the traditional Thai massage and a facial. Though my skin has never looked better with a healthy mix of sun, water, and the over abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables in my diet; I figured a little exfoliating and masque treatment couldn’t hurt. So it was decided; I would have the Thai massage for an hour and then a facial for a half hour. A blissful day at the spa for the bargain price of 230 Baht ($6.90).

After we placed our orders and paid, we were escorted to our individual bungalow for the Thai massage. My fellow Ferrang inform me that this will be slightly different because you will be placed in traditional Thai clothing prior to the massage. Not sure what this meant, and with no time for explanations, I quickly found myself at my destination. I am escorted into the room, handed some clothes, and instructed to change into them in the bathroom. She quickly leaves me to my own devices.

Here I am in what can best be described as a large hotel room with two twin beds in the center of the room and a separate bathroom. The twin beds have a frame, complete with head board and foot board, as well as a pillow that looks like it could double for patio furniture in the summer months. It was in stark contrast to the massage rooms and tables that I have become accustomed to at Urban Oasis or other spas in the Western world. I step into the bathroom and begin to disrobe. Standing in my underwear, I look at the clothes she has given to me. A terrycloth robe, or hospital scrubs – sure; I’ve got that down. This was like nothing I’ve seen before. The top was a traditional tunic-style Thai top for men. Nothing difficult to put on, but you could definitely see right through it – nipples and all staring back at me through this gauze-like material. Let’s just hope the pants don’t have the same problem. I pull the orange pants open and quickly discover that these are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Imagine pants that are designed to be “one-size-fits-all” but they do not have elastic or conventional drawstrings. Perplexed, I put them on like normal pants, and realize that I could have a party of five in my pants with plenty of room to spare. I have ties in what I presume to be the front, and nothing else. However, the ties aren’t the type of ties that you would find on your linen drawstring pants, nor your pajama pants. It almost appears as though they are there for decoration. Still standing there, scratching my head for a few moments I decide the best thing to do is ask. I step out of the bathroom and find my masseur. Holding my pants bundled in one hand, I gesture to the looseness and ask her for assistance. Mildly embarrassed, she laughs and gestures that I have them on backwards. Apparently, the strings go in back. I step back into the bathroom and reverse the pants, strings in back. This adds even more confusion on my part because now I have no idea what to do. I grab the strings from behind and pull them around to the front, before stepping out of the bathroom again. The masseur notices and helps me by draping the pants in the front and wrapping the drawstring in such a fashion that it creates a synch, and pulls the top of the pants over the strings to keep it secure. Seems easy enough, but without seeing it done, I promise you’d have been in the same bewildered boat as I was. I will say, once synched and tied correctly – these were the most comfortable pants I have ever put on my body. The best way to describe them is like a sarong with pants – the “skort” of the Far East. My inner lesbian immediately fell in love and made a mental note that these were a must buy prior to leaving Thailand. Heck, maybe even before the end of the day! Fully clothed in my Thai regalia, I am ready to begin my Thai massage.

I would like to begin by telling you about my masseur. Upon meeting her, I was quickly confused, as she looked to be about 65 in Thai years, which meant she was either 40 or 90, depending on her skin care. I think it was closer to 90. She stood about 4 feet tall, and couldn’t have weighed more than 80-90 pounds, tops! Her hair, which is has large streaks of black in the predominantly grey strands, is pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. Not sure if this was a home remedy for a face-lift – an effort to keep her wrinkled face looking as intact as possible. She started by handing me this newspaper with nothing but numbers on it – similar to a page of lottery numbers. Confused by her request, I simply point at a number on the page that is still being grasped in her wrinkled, boney hands. She looks at the number I pointed at, folds the sheet back up, and places it back in her pocket. Not sure if she thought I was her lucky charm, or had mystic powers capable of revealing the future – must have been my shaved head, which accents my baby blue eyes. It charms them every time!

In Thai, and with some hand gestures, she asks me to start by lying on my back, at which point she begins to massage my feet. Ninety or 100 or 1,000 years old, this woman had a grip that could double as the Jaws of Life if needed. I’ve never met a woman who was so limber either. She hoped over me left to right, top to bottom, all while kneading my tender muscles with the skill and talent of an Italian baker. She kneaded me front to back, side-to-side, top to bottom, all by using her fierce grip and boney body. It was amazing!

As we began the massage, I had a little bit of difficulties relaxing because I have been warned of the additional “services” that can be rendered during a Thai massage. The massage was enough of a surprise for the day; I didn’t need that to be compounded with offers of fellatio from a woman who was old enough to be my great-grandmother. For the first few minutes, I tried to contemplate how I would respond if she began to massage me in other areas. How do you tell someone who doesn’t speak a lick of English that you are not interested in getting head? Or worse yet, what if she just dove in without asking? These types of thoughts were swirling about in my head, before I decided I would cross that bridge if I came to it. Thankfully, I only saw the bridge from a distance.

After I flushed my head of these perverse and disturbing thoughts, I finally started to relax. So much, that she had to wake me a few times to roll-over so she could get my sides and back. In the end, she had me on my back again, and was massaging my legs … again. Toward the end, she was massaging my inner thigh, and I swear she went further on me than most teenage boys get when parked at the lookout with the high school slut. At this point, I was fully awake and I had opened my eyes to look at her. She had a huge smile on her face, which I can only presume was her nonverbal way of saying, “want me to keep going?” Like the good catholic schoolgirl I am, I quickly scowled and shook my head no – I am not that kind of girl! This abruptly ended the massage, and I was instructed to change back into my clothes. I won’t lie, I felt a little violated – almost dirty.

Fully changed and tensed back up from the near violation I had with this dirty grandma, I am escorted to a different building for my facial. In my mind, I am hoping we are done with this woman and I quickly hand her 20 Baht for her tip. Unfortunately, she is also the woman who will be taking care of me for my facial – great! What other sick maneuvers does she have up her sleeve in order to get an extra Baht or two?

The facial area is basically a large room with four reclining chairs, a sink, and some very bad UV lighting. Of course, I’m seated at the chair directly under the bad overhead lighting. This was a far cry from my facial experiences at Spacio. As I am preparing to relax for my facial, I happen to glance over at the sink where the masseur is preparing the herbs for my herbal facial. I look at one of the dishes, and the contents of this dish can best be described as fecal matter from a small dog. She adds water and begins to stir vigorously. After she finishes mixing this unknown concoction, she comes over to me and begins to massage this thick brown substance all over my face. I assume this was the “exfoliating” aspect of the facial, as there was some grittiness with the texture. It didn’t smell the greatest, but thankfully it wasn’t what I initially suspected. Trying to remember that I am here to relax, I put these thoughts out of my mind and let the woman work her magic. Next thing I know, she is wiping my face of the excrement defoliant, only to apply a different substance. If I had to give this substance a feeling, I would chalk it up to watered-down plain yogurt. Here I am with this warm milky white substance caked on my face, and it is then that I think – this really is a facial! After massaging this gooey liquid into my face, she lets it sit for a while. While rinsing, I glance over and see a tray of cucumber slices – a mid-facial snack? Where’s the ranch dip? No, no, this was the last part of my facial – a mummy masque of thinly sliced cucumbers. After wiping the warm yogurt from my face, she begins to lay the cucumbers across my face, creating a masque from the strips. It’s at this point; that I get an attack of the church giggles. You know, when it’s so quiet and laughing is obviously the most inappropriate thing to do, and it takes every ounce of your concentration to not bust into laughter. I slowly begin to chuckle, but like trying to fart when you have diereah; the laughter begins to flow uncontrollably. I begin to imagine what I look like with my face covered in strips of cucumber. The other woman in the room with me was not pleased with me disturbing her peace with my inappropriate and rather obnoxious laughter. I mange to control my laughter, only to realize that I think some of the first face masque made it up my nose, and now I think I need to sneeze. I began to think about what it would be like to sneeze mid cucumber masque – strips of cucumber flying around the room like a blender without its lid. This thought rejuvenates my inner church giggles, and I find myself back in my original predicament. Finally, the masseur comes to remove the strips of cucumber, at which point my facial is finished. Before leaving, I ask for a tissue because I think there is some residue around my nostrils. Forgetting that I am in a different culture, I quickly find myself having my nose being wiped out by the masseur. I’m not talking around the nostril; I am talking a full on invasion of my nasal cavity. She could have performed a frontal lobotomy with the depth and probing she was doing in my nose. Thoroughly impressed with her thoroughness, I granted her services another 5 Baht. Who said you can’t pick your friend’s nose?

Shopping For Sanity

I recently tried my hand at shopping. My Thai is getting better, at least when it comes to numbers, and I am also getting better with understanding what’s a bargain, and what’s not. I went down to the Seree Market in search of some school supplies, and a few other odds and ends. While I was there, I decided to check out the men’s clothing department. At some point, I know my not-so-white dress shirts for work will be too yellow to serve their function and need to be replaced. I walked through the “department store” trying to feel things out. Now, I would think with the number of backpackers that come through Thailand, the novelty of “white” people would lose its luster. Not so much! They continued to stare at me, as I was constantly bumping my head on the sale signs that were hanging from the ceiling, which coincidentally was only a mere foot above the low-hanging signs. Claustrophobics need not come to Thailand – especially if you are tall. At any rate – staring they were! Fine, I’m white, I’m freakishly tall; stare to your hearts content.

I worked in retail for a number of years. Management, visuals, merchandising, product shipments, you name it and I’ve probably had my hand in it at some point or another during that time. Well, the western world of retail would sooner lose the day of business, than allow one of their stores to be presented in the manner that this store was presented. Let’s start with the aisles – if you can fine them, that is. Unlike my experience with retail, apparently in Thailand they stock the shelves and put out new merchandise during normal business hours. But not any business hours – mid-day on a Saturday. There are some things that are universal – Saturday is a big shopping day whether you’re hear in Thailand, or at Woodfield in Schaumburg, Illinois. I found myself hurdling boxes or quickly darting out of the way of the huge boxes being pushed into the store via a shirtless Thai guy. That’s right – sweaty, shirtless, and let me tell you, I was ready to give the shirt off my back to have most of these men cover themselves up. It was like watching an old man try his hand at Yoga during a hot day in August, in the middle of a crowded store. There’s things you just don’t need to witness.

I wonder into what I think is the men’s department, as they have suits and ties. However, after looking at the items hanging on the racks, I would have thought I was in the little boys department. Everything that was hanging on the rack was so small. I picked up a medium and I thought it had to be someone’s idea of a joke. I quickly scan the area and find another rack, thinking maybe there was a mix-up. Nope – same thing! Alright, let’s try and find a size that will fit my slender torso and gorilla like appendages. No sooner do I begin to look at the sizes, that I have a Thai saleswoman right there next to me. Not even a Sawaddee Ka (Hello). No, no – she’s just standing there staring at me with the “Thai smile” on her face. This was a cultural shock for me, as I am used to Western stores where the sales person is overly friendly, to the point of obnoxious and then you have to kindly tell them you are just looking. I glanced up, smiled back and try to tell her that I am just looking. She continued to smile and still, just stood there. Not knowing what to do, I kept looking through the rack. Mind you, the store is a tight fit to begin with. The fixtures are practically on-top of each other and there is no way this place is compliant with ADA regulations; Let alone fire codes – we’d all be dead! So, here I am thumbing through the rack trying to find a shirt that could fit me, surrounded by racks of clothes and a saleswoman quite literally breathing down my neck as I shop. Oh, this was not going to be pleasant! Still not finding a shirt that is suitable for work, or something that I’m willing to spend my hard earned Baht on, I smiled at the saleswoman and said, “Khob khun” (thank you) and continued on like a fat rat in a mouse’s maze.

I quickly crossed through the loading dock – dodging the old, shirtless men who are bringing in box after box of shipment mid-day. I found myself in what can be best described as the hipster portion of the department store. Here, I am greeted by racks of Levi’s and Wranglers and Lee denim. Who knew Wrangler and Lee were making a comeback? Apparently they’ve found their niche and it’s Thailand. I began to look through the assortment of Levi’s. This is the first time that the Levi’s stitching has been correct. In the market near my house, Levi is being pawned off with bad pocket stitching, incorrect labels, and just plain bad knock-offs – Levi Strauss would be rolling over in his denim grave if he saw these misrepresentations. However, I quickly discovered why they knock-off Levi – he’s worth over 5,000 Baht here! Now, that is comprable to the rate in US dollars, but I’ll wait to get them back in the US. Besides, nothing like trying to find a 32X34 here in Oz.

Another thing I quickly noticed about the Thai culture – they like to over staff their stores. In my days of retail, I can remember when payroll hours were so tight that it was me and one sales associate for 8 continuous hours before there was any relief from staff. And what’s worse – they just stand around and talk with each other. Not folding clothes or helping with putting out the new product that has clearly just arrived. No, just standing and kibitzing with each other, until someone enters their section. As a former retail manager, I’m saying this would not be flying under my regime. But, then again – different culture, different social norms. It made my days of working in retail look like a cake walk – even during those hectic holiday months on Michigan Avenue. That was at least organized chaos!

Feeling defeated and suffocated, I exited the department store. Trying to find my way out was another task. With the sea of boxes and paths being blocked, I had to find my way out another direction. I quickly found myself walking through the grocery store. Yes, that’s correct – get your clothes and food all in a one-stop shop. I realize this is not a unheard of amenity, after all, the US has their Super Wal-Mart or Target Great Lands. However, there was something more odd about this addition to the department store. It’s hard to explain, other than it seemed like a separate entity within the department store. Either way, I quickly exited the store and started back home.

I’ve quickly learned that shopping for clothes here could lead to a distorted body image and the feeling of being a fat guy in a little country. It will certainly test your sanity levels and magnify any body-conscious issues you have, perceived or otherwise.