OK,
So just in case it wasn't obvious, this blog is officially dead. I've gone home, and am now at Uni in Durham of all places.
I do intend at some point to create another one, about something else, but I'll have to think of that something first.
I'll leave this here for the foreseeable future, but just so's you know.
Love,
Dom.
OK then, I know I've been back a month, but for mum's sake, here's the rest of the Cambodia trip, with some piccies. Then I can retire, smoke port and drink cigars.
Ben and I disembarked from the bus. We'd lost any vestiges of sanity many hours before and were more like walking zombies than ever before (including during sports). However, I still had my bloody mindedness and determination not to be ripped off in full quantities. Since this was the famous scam bus, we were forced to elbow past a number of large unfriendly looking Cambodians in order to escape from the guest house we'd been dropped off at.
"Escape" was only a relative term since we ended up walking into at least 4 random Cambodians with motorbikes and disturbingly rickety wooden seats sticking off the back. To say that these guys were pushy sellers would win the understatement of the millennium award, even next to statements such as "Muse are a good band" or "Fatal disease is rarely fun".
Anyway, we got to a guesthouse and survived the night.
In the morning, we got up at 5.15 in order to make it to Angkor for the sunrise. Our little driver was waiting, as requested, so we hopped on the back of the thing and away we went.
First, we paid a visit to the biggest, grandest, most famous and most ornate of all the temples of Angkor - Angkor Wat itself. Angkor Wat is a huge three-tiered pyramid with five towers rising 65 meters from the ground.
That's a plan of Angkor Wat, we entered from the west and walked all the way to the centre. Climbing up some exceedingly steep stairs on the way. Then we proceeded to explore the walls of the three tiers and took a look at the massive forests surrounding the temple. The plan on the left only shows the inner temple itself, around this is a massive expanse of grass, with a number of pools and smaller ruins. Here's a shot from the end of the middle tier of walls, showing some trees, some grass, some stone structures and a bit of forest peeking over the top. Oh, and that's a hot air balloon in the distance. Not the sun.
OK, so after a few hours here, having toured the bas relieves on the walls (even less fun than it sounds), we hopped on our transport and headed to the Bayon, a far more crumbling ruin on a smaller, though no less amazing scale.
The Bayon is a pretty ruinous ruin. There are 37 towers, and almost all of them feature 4 stone faces, each one facing in one compass direction.
God knows who's actual face it's supposed to be, but hey, if we knew that, we'd know why they wanted him to freak people out for hundreds of years.
The bayon was not our favorite temple, because when we arrived it was distinctly busy and thronging with Chinese tourists. I have nothing against the Chinese, and I don't really want to fall into the cliche of abusing their tourism practices, but they were quite annoying in large numbers. 
Gererally, tourists in large groups were like a plague in the temples, they'd sweep through, drop packets on ancient ruins and generally pay very little attention to their surroundings.
Anyway, we liked it much more once we found some inner courtyards that the tourists had missed. We were hanging around in this sort of area for a long time and didn't see a single other person.
Once we'd finished with the Bayon, we had lunch. It was a bit early for lunch, but heck, we did it anyway. Then, after a suitable pause, headed towards our third temple of the day. The temple of Preah Khan. Yep, sounds like a villain from the Lion King, but hey, it's also a massive temple of Angkor. Built along the same plans as the Angkor Wat, it's the same size and is also made of stone. Here the similarities rather end, since Angkor Wat is very well preserved and mostly intact. On the other hand Preah Khan is a complete ruin - passages are frequently blocked with piles of blocks, the outer walls are falling in, tress sprout from stone domes and it was the most explorable place around.
Originally it served as a Buddhist monastery and school, with over 1000 monks, but now is top of my list of favourite places of worship of all time. St. Paul's Cathedral is dull, (a trait it shares with pretty much any Christian monument). Even the monuments at Ayuttia, north of Bangkok were distinctly dull in comparison.
Something about the way we saw only 3 other people the whole time we were there, and were forced to climb over piles of crumbling masonry, and at every turn was a new sight, an angle over the ruins I'd not seen before. Unfortunately I was so completely enthralled by the whole experience that I completely forgot to take any pictures, except the one below of two trees appearing to mate. Pretty cool, no?
O.K. so once this was completed we headed to our last temple of the day, Ta Prohm, which was a simply incredible sprawling monasteric complex. It's been left partially unrestored, though, to be honest, there were bits of this temple I disliked. Picky? Yes. Frankly, it was too busy, but that's pretty much expected at the more popular temples these days. Also annoying, unlike Preah Khan, all the designated walkways were clearly marked with wooden boarding and the rest of the temple was closed off with signs threatening collapse. 
While this is probably for the best, it meant that much of the appeal (exploration, discovery) of the temples was lost, and although there were a number of amazing views to be had, they were often spoiled by waiting for the queue of people who wanted their photographs taken along side bits of history. I don't really get quite why this is necessary.
Anyway, exploring the Temples of Angkor was the most amazing experience, and one that I would easily trade another two days of my life travelling to do again. I'd like to be there longer, to be better stocked with history and information, and really, to block off the place to other people for the duration.
If you ever, ever visit south-east Asia, go to Siem Reap, go to the Temples of Angkor. If you don't, you've wasted a trip.
Dom.
--
P.S. - Since I've been home for ages, and this is the last thing I did, pretty much, I guess this marks the last post on this blog. I'll leave it here for the time being, though, and if I startup a normal one about my incredible exploits, I'll keep you informed.
P.P.S - All the photos are Copyright ME. So there. The plan of Angkor Wat is from www.canbypublications.com, a very good tour guide to Cambodia.
P.P.P.S - Thanks for reading, everyone!
I smile a lot, or at least, I do now. I didn’t really before, but perhaps I heard the old adage that it takes far fewer muscles to smile than to frown. This may be true, but it takes far fewer muscles to frown than to wander around babbling rubbish like that all day, so I shouldn’t listen to it if I was you.
Anyway, Thailand is known for its smiling. Not the country itself, obviously, even Cydonia doesn’t smile (that’s an in joke), I meant the people. So, as I walk along the roads, I smile at people. Even, sometimes, grin.
In England, this is not such a good idea, people give you funny looks from the bridge they’ve just pushed you off. Actually, not so true, they just move to the other side of the road as if you’re advancing along it waving your arms over your head and screeching like one possessed. It’s one way of ensuring permanent solitude. Anyone with any reason to smile walking around in England is either a criminal or a mental patient. It’s an even worse idea in the back streets of, say, New York, where I believe the motto is “Shoot first and seldom bother asking questions.”
So then, as I wonder around, I smile like a demented bag lady in Hyde Park. And usually, people smile back. It’s actually rather nice, you get a warm feeling of having connected, albeit briefly, with another human being. Someone you’ve never met, will never meet again and probably wouldn’t get on with anyway has nevertheless shown you that they too are happy with you standing (walking, skipping, whatever) where you are standing (walking, skipping, whatever) and don’t mind if you keep doing it.
Today I was coming back from town on the Skytrain, smiling away, and I decided in a fit of the utmost senility to walk the distance back home. It was a nice day in Thailand (i.e. overcast. A sunny day kills people and burns their corpses). The distance which seems so short along a busy main road in a taxi suddenly turned out to actually be quite a long way, but no matter, I was committed by this point and suddenly began to find out what “magic patches*” are really all about.
To get to the point of this story then, I was crossing the road on one of the bridges designed for the purpose – this is the only way to do so unless you have an interest in finding out what tarmac tastes like when stained with blood from your severed legs – when I encountered a small boy on his way home from school. Around ten years old I suppose, but I can’t be sure, children go from baby into a middle stage and then become teenagers. Anyway, he was bouncing from railing to railing in the manner of one bored and frustrated with his experience. Here, I thought to myself, is someone I, as a teacher (of sorts, shut up) should help and support.
As I walked by, then, I gave him a thumbs up, smiled broadly (I may have grinned, for my sins) and possibly even winked. I intended this confusion of body language to communicate support, empathy and the idea that he should just hang in there and wait till he’s old enough to drive (about 2 more years, over here).
The look of utter, unswerving contempt he flashed me was palpable, the air turned away in embarrassment and as he continued bouncing away, I went on my way a broken man.
I shall never smile again.
*For the uninitiated, “Magic Patches” are sweat patches in completely random places over your body where you really wouldn’t expect much sweat. Oh, the joy of hot climates – so good for your vocabulary.
I was delighted to discover a massive number of messages on email and facebook today, so apologies if I don't reply to all of them, but I've been off the Internet for possibly the longest time in my natural born life (well, since I started my addiction anyway).
Ben came out 2 weeks ago, and after the fairly busy last week of term, we decided to go to Cambodia. Well, I decided, he just meekly submitted to my will.
I sortof had to go somewhere out of the country since, as my last message may have suggested to you, I was in a spot of bother. I was, for 3 weeks, an illegal immigrant. I've never been one of them before, and really don't intend to bother again. It's not, at least, it wasn't for me, particularly bad, nothing really happens at all. However, there is a sense of overhanging dread and a tendency to run away from police or dye your hair and wear an eyepatch.
My visa to live in Thailand is of a strange type whereby although I can move across the border freely for a year, I can't actually stay in Thailand for more than 3 months at a time. I can simply walk across, get the papers stamped, and then walk back in and be safe for another three months. You may think this silly.
It is.
So silly, in fact, that I completely forgot about it, particularly since the school has an office called "the Visa office" or just Visa Office for short. Unless you are a far better person than me you too would have assumed you could leave visa stuff up to them to sort out. After all, why else would we have a Visa Office except for Officiating Visas? Heaven knows.
Anyway, the only real thing is that you have to produce 500 baht (about 7 quid) for every day you linger beyond your visa expiry. Since I was 23 days in, I had 12,000 baht to find, or around 200 pounds. Thank god for the Visa Office. Suddenly they revealed their true occupation. Paying fines.
So, Monday the 16th of July came around (my Birthday, incidentally) and Ben and I, against a great deal of advice, to which we will be adding our own, clambered aboard a bus festooned with Whinny the Pooh, bound for the border. We'd bought our tickets from a little random travel agents on Khao San road. I did know about the scam which is apparently famous around Asia and is given pride of place in the Lonely Planet, but for some reason selectively forgot this and got the tickets from there anyway.
Thai roads are great. There aren't really any markings, and police are nonexistent, but they're flat and smooth and actually worthy of being called roads.
Cambodian roads are abysmal. Appalling. Dreadful. Apparently, they are a contender for the worst roads in the entire world, behind the DR of Congo and Nigeria, for Hell's sake. Armed with this interesting but not entirely helpful information, we waited for hours in a line for a Cambodian visa and eventually got through the other side. I was out of Thailand for the first time in 4 months. Only 2 steps out, but still, out. I should point out that the rain was falling down in true tropical style and washing the detritus of the streets away with it (Dust, leaves, bits of wood, tires, motorbikes, small trees, people, etc...).
From here we got on an amphibious bus, at least, I presume it was amphibious, it was submerged in a good 3 feet of water, although the rats were already swimming to safety. Around the corner, we waded through the same water we'd flushed down the toilet half an hour earlier and onto yet another bus, this time with very few amenities such as openable windows (you can't open windows with no glass in them in the first place) or seating space. This was where Ben decided he was 10 feet tall and demanded I be the one to sit over the wheel hub with my knees banging into my ears.
All in all, the bus journey from Bangkok to the nearest city in Cambodia is not a pleasant one. It is also not short. We eventually arrived in our destination, Siem Reap, at 11.30pm, having left home at 5.30 that morning. Indeed.
Siem Reap is home to what can only be described as a wonder of the world, and this was why we sat through a whole day of torture (on my birthday, too) in order to get there... more to come!
the feeling in my dress.
OK, so god knows what that was. I've been absent for quite some time, having been sold into slavery of a particularly immoral kind, locked away only to be sold for my beauty to a balding Thai businessman.
Actually, that was a lie, and not a particularly convincing one at that. I'm fine, haven't been abducted, shot or otherwise violated.
I have been working my arse off to try and get this piano piece working. It'll never be accurate or anything, but it's sort of working now. I've got till Saturday with that one.
I've also had my first few gigs with the staff band, Red Sleeve. We played at a nice pub in town and actually it was really rather fun. I'm just about to get my hands on some photos and videos of the event, so this is a placeholder till they arrive.
In other news, Thailand is pretty much as it ever was, the sun shines, the grass is brown and crusty and the tarmac is melting.
Dom
Hey there all,
Well, no updates for a while, but with good reason. School is proving to be fantastically busy, and is just like any school anywhere, so no special Thai things to mention. Sure, the staff may be different, but as I have mentioned before, this is an International school, so everyone speaks English. With this in mind, it's very hard to experience anything of the country you happen to be living in if you spend your whole time among other English speakers in what could only be described as a very sterile environment.
OK, so I do have one bit of news, I committed virtual suicide by agreeing to play one of the pianos in the two piano reduction of Carl Orff's Carmina Burana. You'll know it, it goes "O Fortuna *boom* *boom*" at the start.
It's not easy.
Not at all.
Damn.
Dom
Yesterday morning, in class with a large chunk of year 6, I witnessed some truly inspirational teaching.
The biggest problem with teaching in this school is, as I have mentioned a few times, the apparent lack of any motivation in the kids themselves. Sure, they work hard, most work harder than I or my friends did at school, but they work hard without any apparent enthusiasm or interest in any subject. A lack which continually shocks and appalls me.
In this lesson then, the kids (around 40 of them, I suspect) were seated on the ground and asked to join in a simple song. Now, I don't recall many lessons from my early years where we were given the opportunity to sing in this manner, but feel sure that I and most of my contemporaries would have jumped at the chance. There is an attitude of 'coolness' in the UK, where showing enthusiasm is seen as 'sad'. This doesn't exist over here, or at least, only exists in the most westernised groups of children. That said, the way in which over 90% of that class had their lips firmly closed was quite horrifying.
It was after this attempt, and a couple of other slow starts, the teacher in charge began to speak something along the following lines. Note that I have simply carried the spirit of what he said across, changing a few of the images and adding a few embellishments. When you read it, try and imagine the children listening. This speech made an effect on me, and I hope it made a greater one on them:
Would you like to have a life? or would you prefer to sit all day and watch television, until it fades into static, or switches off entirely. You can treat life like a television, simply allowing it to go on in front and around you, not interacting with it, not engaging with it, not exploring it with all the enthusiasm you can. Treat life like this - gaze at it with a glazed expression, loose limbs and an attitude of deference or complete disinterest - and life will, like the television, switch off.
Unlike the television, once this happens, it is very hard to turn it on again.
Dom.
Note that once this idea was suggested, a good many of the children suddenly became as lively as we knew they could be. There was also an interesting example of the Thai culture of deference; when it was suggested that Thai women should stay at home and watch the TV while their husbands became rich and enjoyed themselves, the boys would shout "Yes!", and the girls would stay silent. We got them shouting in the end, but it was a tough uphill battle.
I'm once again in the constantly surprising MBK centre of Siam. Since I was bored, I came here to do some shopping, and found that was boring too. I am all enthusiasm and riches on the way, but once I arrive, a terrifying ennui falls upon me and I lose the will to shop. Perhaps it's just the gall of spending my own money.
As this is a Saturday, Friday still has not left my bloodstream completely, if you see what I mean, and sitting in a stupidly comfortable chair taking advantage of a very fast Internet connection is an excellent way of passing the time.
The last week was a pretty reasonable one, since it not only contained a good number of lessons where I was given leave to steer, but also a nice collection of extras. I joined the staff rock band, and found out that rock piano is effectively jazz piano with the 7ths taken out...
I am soon to be joined by one of my freinds from school, which will be fantastic, and I hope to make it to Cambodia, if he's willing. That should give me at least 5 minutes good conversation with all those teachers who's names I don't know and don't think I ever knew:
"Hi there!"
"Oh hello, errm.., old chap, how're you?"
"Good thanks, yourself?"
"Alright, yeah"
"Did you have a good Half Term?"*
"Oh yeah, sure, you?"
"Great thanks, what did you get up to?"
"Oh, we just chilled out here, sometimes it's nice to just stay at home and enjoy some downtime, you know?"
"Oh definitely, of course."
"How about you?"
"Well, you know, I wanted to get out of Bangkok, so I went to Cambodia with my friend who was over from England."
"Oh great, what was it like?"
"Just amazing, so many ruins, I did get a bit tired of crumbling masonry after a while, but you know."
"Sure, sure, listen, I've got a lesson to go to, have a good day, OK?"
"OK, bye now!"
All it takes is a quick rinse and repeat... Turn and:
"Hi there!"
"Oh hello, errm.., old chap, how're you?"
"Good thanks, yourself?"
"Alright, yeah"
"Did you have a good Half Term?"
etc... etc...
Dom
*At this point, insert whichever holiday was most recent, Half Term, Easter, Christmas, Hanukkah...
Oddly enough, I love Fridays.
Friday is the day I get to teach a few lessons properly, (music, naturally) and is also the day on which the week ends, and the weekend, begins.
This morning, I taught a singing class (we're doing Carmina Burana, just so's you know, which I can't sing, so god knows how they're supposed to manage any of it), then the teacher asked what I had next and suggested I stay and do his next set too.
There's something quite terrifying about a room full of children looking expectantly up at you, waiting, like empty bottles, to be filled with knowledge. They expect you to know everything and be able to do everything, and a lot of teaching involves lying and using tricks to make them believe you are omniscient.
For example, I was trying to teach the "Consider Yourself"song from Oliver, and couldn't for the life of me remember the words, I was standing there conducting these kids and didn't have the music. In this situation, the best thing to do is tell them you won't be singing with them, because it's a test. This Works.
I'm also a member of the staff band. I considered changing my name to something altogether more rock'n'roll, but since I couldn't really think of anything, I gave up. The only other major pain is the dreadful keyboard the school has. Ouch. Only had one rehearsal so far, but more to come, and at least three gigs before I come home, all being well...
Anyway, not much else to say, really, except howdy.
Dom
No mum, it's ok. I mean the bacon kind. The original title of this post was Cooking, but I though that was just far to simple.
A few weeks ago, I decided it was time I got off my ever expanding rear and took to the streets. After a few minutes of wandering with no aim at all, I went home and thought of things to do. A Thai cooking course seemed a good idea, so I did one.
On the edge of one of the busier roads in Bangkok stands a building. On one side, ruinous lean to sheds of corrugated iron. On the other, a skyscraper, and in front the skytrain rails. Right in the middle of a large concrete expanse stands an incongruously decorated blue and yellow mansion, known as the Blue Elephant Restaurant.
It's fairly well known, but apparently suffers from being quite expensive and not actually that nice. Anyway, I booked myself in for the morning course (with Market visit!) on a Wednesday.
We were all sat down in a room with little writing desks, supplied with some recipes and the dishes were prepared in front of us for our amusement. One niggle was that the lady doing the cooking insisted on varying the dishes as much as she stuck to the recipe. Ah well.
I found at the time of cooking that it was all really easy. I began to relax into my role as master chef, I cooked with flourish and flair, I tossed my hair back as I tossed in the vegetables. I sliced and diced and stirred. However, it quickly became apparent that it would be much more difficult if they hadn't put out the correct amounts of every ingredient in little bowls in front of you.
Ok, so Thai cooking isn't that hard as far as I can tell, it's just a matter of preparing everything carefully before you start cooking. Once anything is put on the heat it's all go and there's no time to think "Now, should these red peppers be sliced or diced, and how thick?". It's actually rather fun throwing everything you so carefully chopped up in at once and mixing it around.
I can now cook Prawn curry with Jackfruit (or as I shall do it, Chicken curry with whatever you like), Chicken and Cashew nuts (an old favourite), Mango Salad with Deep Fried Red Snapper (at least, I could if I had any deep fried Red Snapper) and one of those horrible watery soups with unexpected bits of scraggly meat floating in them. Yeurgggh.
All in all, a success.
Dom.
I would be doing you a disservice not to mention, at least in passing, the thriving night life there is in Bangkok.
Perhaps I should also warn any grandparents reading to look away now, else I am woken in the night by the sharp intake of breath and tutting sound from right across the world.
Only joking, nothing sinful in here. At least, nothing to do with me.
Like any large city in any country in the world, in Bangkok there is plenty to do after sundown. However, Thailand has its own special way of dealing with vice and sin. It pretty much ignores them. There are laws against underage drinking and drink driving; there are even laws against go-go bars and prostitution, but these all happen in great abundance in the busier areas of Bangkok.
A typical night for an expat (let's say a school teacher, for the sake of argument) might follow this pattern. You'd go out for a meal then, once it was late enough, you'd head to one of the club districts. There are quite a lot of these, some are very close to home, but there's always a taxi driver willing to take you there (sober) and back (near-death and certainly wishing you were past it) for 700% of the usual price.
Once in one of these dens of sin, you try and enjoy yourself, forget the idea of a pleasant conversation and hope people with full salaries will buy you a drink.
Once this place shuts (around 1/2/3 am in some cases, depends on the police bribe issued), you could do the sensible thing and go home. This is, I have to admit, my favored option most nights, once the night has turned into a morning and I'm tired.
However, if this is unacceptable to you, this is Bangkok. No barrier to drunkenness and debauchery is strong enough. In other words, there are loads and loads of illegal nightclubs scattered around the city which, for a reasonably small entrance fee, will stay open till gone 5 or 6 in the morning. In theory therefore, you could go out straight from school and go straight into school again without going home at all.
After you've been fleeced by a taxi driver on the way home, this all begins to seem like a normal trip out in England, it's just that they don't last so damn long.
Cheers,
Dom.
Quite frankly, I'm in a very bad mood. 10 minutes ago, I was in a very good one.
How has this shift occurred, you might ask, if you care.
Well, actually, I was supposed to be doing a debating society with these damn kids now, but none of the ungrateful little plebes signed up. I hate that.
Dom
Rain Rain,
Well, it seems the rainy season has begun, even if thats not what the old-timers say. Frankly, if you see no rain for 3.5 months, and then one week it rains every single day, you're going to get suspicious. In fact, calling it rain is a bit of an insult. Chances are, you will never have seen rain this incredible. It's amazing. The rain itself is mere musical accompaniment to the deafening brightness of the lightning and the blinding volume of the thunder.
It usually starts around 6pm, just as the sun begins to go down, the sky becomes utterly terrifying, either a dark brown or blue with flashes high up among the clouds. Later, stabs of lightning skewer the clouds, and the roads begin to flood.
Bangkok is on a flood plain. You may think that sounds like a bad idea, but it does mean that if you go up in a building of even a little height, you can see for miles. It would of course be possible to see further without the perpetual layer of smog over the city.
When it rains heavily, the roads fill up with water. The "soi"we live on has good high curbs, and becomes a canal. If we removed the cars, it would be indistinguishable from the canals near the river. Of course, it all goes away in no time at all.
Sadly, there's no wood around, so my main idea of saving taxi fairs by building a raft had to be abandoned.
Come again another day!
Dom
Good morning, chums,
Well, since we're now back at school, I'm not bad at posting because I'm lazy, it's because I'm busy. It's quite nice really, actually having quite a bit to do! Sometimes last term I did find myself wondering what exactly I should be doing, but now I've been pretty much reserved for full time drama/music department action (not actually my idea, but I like it. A lot). The first full week of term was taken up entirely (and I mean entirely) with the Junior school production. It was pretty distressing. Ok, so that's not fair. It was alright, sometimes funny. Occasionally some reasonable acting. Anyway, that was how I spent every day that week - on Lighting. God knows how they made those rehearsals last so... damn... long, but there you go.
That week was also the week of the Opera. We did Dido and Aeneas, in case I forgot to mention it. Sadly, it wasn't fully staged, because the opera company ran out of money. We did it like a concert, which was great. I will get hold of a recording of at least one of the nights soon so that Nana & Popa have a new CD to grind around and around their player; over and over again.
This week, though only really for yesterday and today, are the GCSE drama exams, so I'm in there again.
Once I get out of all this, it'll be back to the usual fare of lessons, which I'll have to go sort out soon since I haven't really had many to do so far this term!
Dom.
This has been going on for weeks, but there aren't so many confirmations of it inside Thailand, so I thought I'd better get on and mention it.
YouTube is still blocked completely in Bangkok. I don't know how many other sites have been blocked, since I haven't found any that don't work yet.
Needless to say, with my dreadful internet connection here, I wasn't too fussed anyway!
Dom
Herro,
God knows how to spell Songkran, but I can tell you a bit about it anyway.
Once a year, Thailand gets a bit crazier over their new year celebrations. Of course, it's not 2007 over here, it's something like 2550. Something to do with their year 0 being a good 543 years before ours. Also, just to round things off, their new year is between the 11th and the 16th of April. I say between, since they seem to spread it out as much as possible.
It's not just new years, but also a water festival, falling on the hottest days of the year (generally speaking). Water festival may bring to mind images of hasitly erected fountains and people drawing crosses of holy water on your head. Not so. Here, everyone soaks everyone else.
During the day, depending on the area of Thailand (or Bangkok) you visit, you will get wet. In the quieter residential zones, perhaps a bit damp from a water pistol. Visit Khao San road, and you will find a Foam party, loud music, and loads of people soaked to the skin. Once you've recovered from the ice cubes that just went down your spine, you may like to retaliate.
At night, a trip to Silom road (not far from home) is an eye opening experience. Thousands of Thai youngsters descend on the street and get very wet and very, very drunk. It was a bit crazy to be perfectly honest. We didn't have any water guns with us, but neither did anyone else. This wasn't the tactical, long range soaking of Khao San, but instead a general, loose, uncaring drenching all of its own. I wish I hadn't had my phone, wallet and camera on me at the time.
It's ok, I ingeniously wrapped them in plastic bags from 7-11, which kept them safe.
Sadly, I don't have many pictures of this debacle, and again sadly, I can't get them online until mums camera corporates and lets me download them. Needless to say, it was incredibly good fun, and an amazing time to be in Thailand. Wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Dom
P.S. I kill those who do not reply to emails. Just so you know.
seb, ben consider yourselves warned...
Herro,
The time came at last, I went for one of the fabled Thai massages. I'll be honest - Not overwhelmed by the experience. It is indeed rare for me to be bent and poked in such a way, but that doesn't mean I seek bending and poking from wrinkly old ladies down by the beach.
That isn't to say there was anything dodgy about the experience, there wasn't. It was curiously sexless actually. Even the bum bit.
My main concern was that once she'd finished, I'd find myself unable to walk, paralysed by some stray manipulation. Fortunately, my fears were groundless and I strolled triumphantly away, dignity almost intact.
A "Happy Ending", you might say.
No, not that type.
Dom
P.S. Delighted to see the comments flourishing in my absence, I rarely reply, which is a rather footling stratagem, I know. Vicky - send me your email address (mine's fb.dcmain[at]googlemail.com). Ben, reply to your damn emails, Seb, comment, you brass-stud, someone get rob to read this, and, well, that'll do. Phil, get your head out of the toilet.
Hello there everyone,
I have, I know, been unfairly lax in my updating of this marvel of communication. I did have a rather upsettingly busy last few weeks of term, though I may have actually been kidding myself and been doing nothing at all. Food for thought there.
Anyway, term ended last Friday with a triumphant bang, or at least, it might have done, I wasn't there. The penultimate week was busy for me, and my family arrived on the Tuesday of the last one. This meant I had a pretty good excuse for leaving school early and doing no work. Or so I thought - I was pretty rapidly drafted into lighting for the tiny kiddies' production. Why they bother getting tiny kids like that to act, when they have almost no control over their limbs yet is beyond me, but there you go.
So, on Friday morning I hopped into a taxi, after writing a tearful note* to my flatmate, and went for breakfast with Mum, Dad and my sister. Then onto a plain to Chaeng Mai. I think I spelled that right.
My first impressions of Thailand's Spiritual capital (apparently) were not favorable. I found it polluted (forest fires and cars) unattractive (dead trees, long roads, no hookers) and very, very hard to get around. In Bangkok, despite their many, many problems, taxi-meters are a pretty good way of getting places. It usually only takes a few tries to get one who knows where you're going. Sometimes you can even find one who knows where he's going, but that's less common.
Our hotel wasn't too far from the perimeter of the old city, but was still a bit too far to walk anywhere useful in the midday heat. With this in mind, I was very annoyed to discover no taxi-meters, only hotel run minibuses of ill-repute or those death-defying injury-producing "Tuk-Tuk"s. So named because of the two stroke engines which power them and the sound they create. These are apparently, in Chaeng Mai, run by the Tuk-Tuk mafia (I'm not joking) who do all in their power to prevent any public transport system from being successful. A bit of advice then, for any visitors to the area, those red pickup trucks with roofs are the local equivalent of taxis. You can get at least 15 people in them (7 in comfort, perhaps) and they're very cheap. I was confused by the fact that they look the same as the ones in Bangkok, which are even cheaper, but run on routes like buses.
Once we made this discovery, Chaeng Mai became a much nicer place, with a profusion of cheap cafes and restaurants. Getting across the road is still unbelievably difficult, but there you go. There is a night market there which is very popular with tourists and therefore crap. I don't like to defame an ancient city in this way, but it's just stalls of the same stuff they sell in MBK only more expensive, and more repetitive.
However, on Sunday, there is another market, called the Walking Street market or something like that. I presume it's named in this way because they close off the roads to cars for the market. The street itself doesn't actually walk anywhere. This market is great. It's thronging with tourists and Thais alike, its on all Sunday evening, when it's just about cool enough to wander around without expiring on the road. The stalls are either on mats on the floor or low tables, most things are candlelit and almost all the items are hand-made and excellent value. There is very little of the usual repetitive nature of Thai markets, each stall has something different, and there are hundreds. Quite a staggering number.
Chaeng Mai is well worth a visit just for this, and if anyone is planning on coming but not for the weekend, plan again.
Since this post is in danger of becoming too long to be read in one sitting, and I don't want to bore you, dear readers, I'll sign off. Plus, an outside Internet cafe just doesn't feel right. Actually, it's awesome.
Dom
*don't forget the milk, feed the cat, etc.
Now, I have been asked a number of times by various people (various as in Mum, who certainly believes she counts as various people) to give a full and frank account of my average school day. I have so far resisted any inclination to do so since my average school day is singularly, well, dull. Sure there are often small rays of light which spear as (to switch metaphors* for a moment) angels of mercy into my darkened (or mercy-less**) existence; though sadly they are separated by giant gulfs of junior reading and junior maths and well, junior anything, really.
But whatever, here goes:
5.45 am – Wake cursing into the darkened void, even the sun knows that this is a stupid time to be up and about, and we should really take notice of this significant point. Shower, get dressed (sounds easy, doesn’t it).
6.30 am – Leave the apartments. Frankly this is often closer to 6.45, but this is the ideal.
7 am – Arrive at school, spend an hour thinking “Why the hell am I here so damned early? School doesn’t start till 10 to 8!?!”
7.50 am – Start lesson one. What this is depends entirely on what day it is. I could upload my timetable, but then the gang of ruthless ninja assassins I’ve outwitted for years will finally have the information they need and will inhume me right in the middle of a lesson.
9.50 am – After 3 lessons, repair to the staff room and there eat my whole (extended) family’s combined bodyweight in sandwiches. These are kindly provided for the staff, but I must confess that I’m getting rather bored of them by this point. Why no variation? Why no pickle, or marmite? Why no damn toast!
10.10 am – back into lessons… till
11.30 am / 12.20 pm – Lunch. Far to early and I’ve mostly stopped going, because it’s pretty rank frankly.
12.20 pm / 1.00 pm – Lessons again till
2.40 pm – ECAs. Extra Curricular Activities, I presume. Everything has to have an acronym over here, just calling them activities would be too gloriously simple, wouldn’t it.
My ECA programme consists of the Junior production on Monday, Scenefest on Tuesday and Thursday, Orchestra on Friday and Choir on Thursday. Wednesday is my day off and as such I rather look forward to it.
4.30-6.00 pm – Home. Why I’m always in such a rush to get home at the end of the day is a constant mystery to me, since there isn’t much to do there that I couldn’t do here in school. I think it’s perhaps that wearing a suit in the hottest city in the world is just plain stupid.
Love
Dom.
*lies
*yes, mercy-less, not merciless, think about it…
I’m writing this from the sound box in the theatre at school. Well, I say “from” the sound box, I actually mean “on”. It’s a box. And I’m sitting on it.
With me is Seedy the CD player, Andy the amp and a host of wires and blinking things that go foom. Unfortunately they often go foom in the middle of delicate scenes.
Anyway, this is a rehearsal for the senior play, which this term takes the form of a “Scenefest.” For the uninitiated, a Scenefest is an opportunity for competition (healthy) experimentation (no rob, not dodgy) and exciting cooperation (everyone shouting at everyone else – hence, cooperation). Sales pitch aside, it’s basically a competition between four groups each doing a few scenes from the Northern Lights play. Between them they do the whole thing, and the best one wins. I’m on sound as you may have worked out for yourselves.
This week (and the one before it) has been somewhat busy and promises no less for the coming days. Scenefest took my Sunday, my Monday and now my Tuesday and is certainly to dominate my Thursday and Friday. We have a return to Shrewsbury School UK style rehearsals which extend into the later hours of the evening. At last back home I had an extra hour in bed. Wednesday is to be the concert to end all concerts. Well, maybe not, but it will include songs from every class in years 6, 7 and 8. Since I helped teach one of the classes I have a vested interest. The Chamber Choir (i.e. the teachers foolish enough to like singing and think they’re good at it, i.e. me) will be singing, followed by the Orchestra, in which I’m playing an instrument I’ve been playing for 3 weeks, and a piece I’ve practiced once.
To top that my leg hurts for no apparent reason and I absolutely refuse to ask the internet since it will tell me that I’ll be dead in two weeks. I can imagine overhearing this conversation at the doctors:
Doctor: “Now, my dear Mr. Barnard there really is nothing for you to worry about, you will be completely free of symptoms within a fortnight.”
Patient: “That’s not what the Internet says, you incompetent ass!”
Sad times.
Dom
OK, so where did we get to? Rhetorical question.
I went to the gym today. Wow, you might say. I was so surprised I nearly walked straight out again, but first I spent a good 2 minutes trying to open the door, which was depressing. Then, having made it to the treadmill without significant mishap, I stood on the thing and tried to make sense of all the numbers and buttons visible. Now, normally I love buttons, I just don't like them in the context of exercise. These buttons had labels like "incline" and another said "hill", which seemed somewhat redundant, but anyway, I put in a random weight (70kgs, god knows if that's significantly more or less than mine), and pressed "quick start". It didn't appear to start at all, so I pressed the speed-up button and held it. I stopped at a random number and paced along for a moment. Felt like an idiot after about 3 seconds because I was being out paced by the ancient woman next to me. Really, really ancient. I love old people, honestly, but dear god, I'm surprised she didn't snap to bits whenever her foot hit the floor, I'm further surprised by the way she was apparently enjoying the experience. The clicking of joints that accompanied her every movement was not so pleasant, however. There was also, as it happened, a really, really old guy who had to be literally led on someone's arm to each machine in turn. How he was able to use the machines once lifted onto them is anyone's guess. Sorry to any grandparents who may be reading this. You know who you are ;)
Spurned into greater ambition, I cranked the speed up a bit more and ended up in a sort of indefinable zone between walking and running, which was most uncomfortable and I moved from that as fast as the machine would let me. Unfortunately, I may have held the button for too long for while I had already stopped pressing, the infernal contraption was still catching up, getting progressively faster and faster. When I was literally sprinting, in some danger of being sucked into the mechanical depths of the beast, I was lucky enough to catch the cable of my earphones with my flailing arm and yank my iPod out of its resting place, landing on the treadmill right under my rapidly approaching foot.
I managed to slow the thing down and had 25 minutes of relatively uneventful slog. It was noticeably easier than a similar distance (or even less) in the real world, which makes me suspect that the machine is lying to me... Whatever.
Anyway, back to half term. I genuinely can't remember where we got too, I need to go home and check the pictures to remind me. I may as well post this story, since it'll be ages before I get around to the rest! Damn choirs and operas and things.
In fact, I'm going to add a work in progress box at the side, to show what will appear if I ever get typing fast enough! It's having to reply to all your massive emails that does it (please don't stop!).
Dom
Well,
Some of you may have already been singing the final lament of this poor rambling little excrescence of prose. Satisfyingly for me though, you'd be wrong. You couldn't be more wrong if you'd thrown the first stone at Jesus instead of the lady tied to the stake.
I've been on holiday...
Sunday:
We left Bangkok on Sunday evening, Sam, Laura, Sam, Emily and myself (yes, two Sams). On a Nok-Air flight to Phuket. Here we were to remain for an unspecified length of time - it's the first time I've been anywhere without having any idea where I was to stay or how long for. Either way, we booked into the Thavorn hotel and stayed there for the night. It cost us about 4 quid per room. Needless to say, it was hideous. There was air-con, but it didn't work. Worse things have happened - like shelling out 100 quid for a room when 4 would do!
Monday:
Got up early, in order to avoid the terrible reality of the room - had a quick shower it was cold, by design. Or at least, there was no heated water, but how a country with more sun than mercury can ever need to heat water at all, I don't know.
After an agonizing 20 minutes where the receptionist hunted for our passports (We had asked her to put them in the safe, for safe keeping, as it were, and they were eventually discovered under a pile of paper on the corner of the desk. That was the last time it left my bag except to fill in check-in slips at other hotels.
While I went to get some contact lenses from an optician down the road (I didn't bring any spares or my glasses, because I'm a fool, the others went off to hire a car... We got a Susuki jeep with giant perspex windows and no seat belts. They don't seem to have heard of them out here. For a tenner. They didn't check the driving license. Death is just around the corner. I now find the lenses for my right eye were about a third too strong, and everything seems blurred now I'm back on my correct prescription... damn.
Anyway, once free of the Thavorn hotel, and it's picturesque holes in the door and blood on the sheets, we drove off to a beach on the south west of the island. You'll forgive me if I can't remember which one, we didn't stay for long - it was full of very old people. After a brief dip, off once more up the west coast of Phuket. Here passing about every beach on the island before eventually reaching the one we were heading for. It's in a national park, and as we approached, a lady stepped out as if to charge us entry. We charged her, and avoided frittering any money away on silly things like conservation.
This seemed to be a good beach, but we never really found out, since it was straight onto a long-tailed boat (they're boats, with long tails) with snorkeling gear and giant flippers. I love swimming with those things, you go at a massive speed, it's just really sad when you take them off and go back to swimming with your tiny feet.
The snorkelling was pretty good, certainly the best I've had the opportunity to do, around this little pile of rocks with a few trees 30 foot up in the air. The sea was quite choppy, but even then, the water was fairly clear, and there was a pretty good collection of wildlife to be marvelled at. Clown fish, Angel fish, Giant blue starfish, and my personal favourite, a blowfish which can swim impressively quickly when un-blown, but if you tease and threaten it, by swimming too close and trying to grab it, it inflates into a ball. This defence mechanism would be more effective if it wasn't now completely unable to do anything apart from float very slowly to the surface and flap madly with its tiny, tiny fins. We held it in our cupped hands and looked at its little face. It was either bloody scared, or alternatively, and this would be my guess, seriously pissed off.
Then we went to visit Ellie in her 5 star abode. I wasn't unimpressed. They had a plunge pool on the roof of their own little villa thing, for God's sake.
After a nice evening of eating and drinking, the designated driver* took us back to Phuket town, and back into the clutches of the Thavorn.
Tuesday:
Feeling once more suitably refreshed by the cold shower, we headed for the ferry-port that would lead the way to Phi Phi Don. Don is the larger of the two Phi Phis, and the only one with any buildings. Both are in fact a national park, but the commission has done a rubbish job of protecting Phi-Phi Don, and a reasonable one of protecting Phi-Phi Lei. I don't know about the spelling, by the way, but I'm not sure it matters. Anyway, the ferry was OK, air-con inside etc. Unfortunately, while it did do trips just to take people there and back, it also ran as a cruse-like tour boat. This meant we had to sit there waiting for a good hour while tourists** clambered off onto some other raft to be moddled and coddled away.
Once on Phi-Phi, we got a boat straight to Long Beach, which is longer, hence the name. It is also much quieter and doesn't have so many tourists. There were a few OK hotels here, which were rather expensive and rather basic, but this is a gap year after all.
That afternoon, we rented a couple of kyacks and explored some of the coastline.
Report: Rocky and Wet on all fronts.
WORK IN PROGRESS: Thought I'd shove this up since it's already quite long. I'll continue writing later in the week. Photos will trickle along the interweb's tubes every now and again. I've got a few hundred - most are a bit crap.
Dom
*Not me, I crash.
**Since I live in Thailand, I hate being seen as a Tourist. I hate it anyway, but doubly so. For this reason, I'm making the effort as far as rudimentary Thai goes, but am considering getting a sign made up which says in Thai - "I live here, for God's sake". Or, alternatively, "Fuck Off". Either would serve the purpose, I feel.
I'm busy writing up half-term, it's taking some time, but here's a picture of me in a taxi. Just to remind you of my beauty.
Dom
Today is the first day of the Chinese New Year, accordingly, Bangkok, at least, bits of it, have gone crazy. Well at any rate, the school was a bit. We all came in today wearing red, or at least, as much red as we could. Given my incredible sense of style and mature sophistication, I wore another of those damn orchestra tour shirts - which just happened to be red.
Needless to say, like many of these far eastern cultures, the Chinese are absolutely crazy. They have music which is effectively a tuned drum being whacked repeatedly by one guy, and two guys with cymbals standing on either side going crash.. crash... crash. Cool, but a bit random, I'll be frank.
Anyway, they started off with some people dressed as dragony-liony things dancing around on the floor, with some other insane looking guy wearing a huge mask waving a stick at them.
After this, the guys playing the music ran around the square holding flags. I wouldn't be lying if I said the proceedings dragged slightly at this point...
Anyway, after the boring bit, the guys got back to their bashing and shouting, and then the fun started. Another couple of guys slipped into a dragon costume (much more gaudy than the others) and began this routine of jumping around poles and roaring and standing on heads and all sorts - piccies to follow once I get back to school next week.
After this rather entertaining spectacle, some of the Chinese chappies clothed completely in yellow and blue, (what admirable alliteration!) made a huge human pyramid, though it was more a triangle, in actuality, of about 5 people high. They put a 2 year old at the top. Then they jumped down, and made a human tower (no pyramid or triangle, just one column of guys) with a baby on top - literally, a baby.
Naturally, some of the staff were looking a little uncomfortable by this point.
Straight after that, they all scuttled off to get this 30 foot pole lying on the ground a few meters away. Then they tied the 2 year old to the end of it, and stuck him up in the air. The kids, given that kids are obsessed and delighted by violence or even potential danger, loved it. The staff, particularly the school inspectors sitting next to the headmaster, did not. It was when another bloke climbed to the top and untied the kid - dropping him down the pole between his legs that we were certain white meat was to be on the lunch menu.
Dom
Hello,
OK, so it's been a while - anyone who had the inestimable privilege of reading one of my previous blog incarnations will know that the following. I start well, full of enthusiasm and with a light hearted, "give a damn and the devil's fist" sort of attitude. Shortly after this (say a few weeks, depending on how interesting my life is at this point in time), comes the lapse - say 2 weeks without any sign of life. Not even any comments. (Thanks to anyone who did contribute a little something by the way, to those who read and did not share their praise, a thousand curses be upon you and your family.) Anyway, after the lapse comes the hopeful comeback. I believe the name explains all in this case. Finally the slow, rasping, pitiful slump into the underbelly of the interweb.
We haven't quite got there yet - and don't for a minute think we're even onto the hopeful comeback. That wasn't anything like the sort of lapse you can prepare yourself to expect soon...
Anyway. This weekend, Sam's parents have been out in Bangkok. I was feeling a bit left out in advance, since Laura, Sam and Ellie all have friends coming over in half-term to spread the love. I have no one. This could be because I'm a bastard. I don't know. Either way, Sam asked me to come along to dinner on Saturday with his family, and on Sunday I ended up joining their touristy expedition to the north. We went to some place, the name of which escapes me, in order to view "the old city". This is a place totally stuffed full of Wats. A Wat, incidentally, is a sort of Thai temple. They have a central holy bit, replete with budda and assorted holy items. They have other holy bits, also dripping with symbols of a religious nature. They also have a number of random circular towers that closely resemble, to my eye at any rate, a giant phallus.
After that, we rode on some elephants. That was awesome, by the way. I've got a few photos which I'll upload later.
Anyway, the title of this post suggests something to do with taxis, and it would be remiss of me to disappoint you all. Therefore, I shall present a few pointers regarding the use of taxis in Bangkok (possibly Thailand in general).
Sawadicrap,
That's how you say hello, by the way. If you're a boy. If you're a girl, you say Sawadicar instead. And if you're a street seller, it's "Sawadicaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar".
Anyway, the reason it's been so long since I last wrote anything here is that I've been away from Bangkok on a school trip to Kanchanaburi. It's an area to the west (and a bit north) of Bangkok. The main purpose of the trip was to visit the River Kwai, and its infamous bridge.
We left on Monday morning on a nice air-conditioned bus (actually 4 buses) and began the 3.5 hour trip. It was fine, but would have been more comfortable if the roads weren't quite so potholed, and if the bus had any gears above 2nd. I swear we were doing 90000 revs the whole time.
This week was the first time I actually felt like a teacher, which was nice. I didn't have my own group (except for 1 day), but otherwise, I did the same things as all the other teachers - watching the kids do all sorts of demanding activities while sitting on my backside.
OK, so that's not entirely true - I did do some of them. On the first day, we went off on the back of truck around a village in the Kanchanaburi area. This was the "Agro" tour, one of those sustainable, environmentally friendly tourism things. There was some pretty cool scenery there, some of which is now on the flickr account.
On the second day, we did some other stuff. The kids had some activities like wall climbing and bike riding (and I did the bike riding, just so you know. I can cope with cycling in the heat, because you only seem to realise how hot you are when you stop.) I also managed to lose my phone at this point. I maintain that someone buggered off with it or nicked it from my pocket, since it was definitely on when I last had it (about 30 mins. before I noticed it missing) and it was off when we tried to ring it from someone else's phone.
We trailed round a few museums about the railway, and even went to visit the cutting in the rock affectionately known as "hellfire pass". It was fairly depressing. I got a few photos too, just for good measure.
The museums were very effective at bringing the suffering to life. Even so I had to remember - every time I was horrified by the terrible conditions the poor PoWs lived in - the fact that our nuclear attack of Japan has more than tipped the balance. They still feel the physical effects of the radiation today.
Anyway, on a slightly less depressing note, we continued to roam the museums and valleys of Kanchanaburi, pausing occasionally to moan about the heat and gulp vast quantities of water
We visited a cave, called the Lawa cave. Yes, Lawa not Lava, and finished on Thursday with an assault course which I originally intended to sit out of. I soon joined in, if only to encourage the flagging kids. It was after I had dangled from a thick rope for some time with my feet in 4 foot of water that I decided I shouldn't have worn thick canvas shorts.
On friday, we came home, or at least back to Bangkok, which I guess I must think of as home for the next 6 months.
Don't miss the lovely story below...
Love Dom.
I was recently privy* a rather disturbing episode in a toilet above a club on Khao San road in Bangkok. I went searching for the toilet with Sam and while he sensibly opted for the closed-door model and I foolishly chose the standard issue urinal. It was only a few seconds after I had "armed myself", so to speak, that I felt hands on my back and shoulders - some guy was massaging me.
"NO!", I exclaimed.
"Get off!", I ejaculated.
"I'll use one of them!", I cried, pointing to a cubical.
Needless to say, I am still suffering the emotional aftershocks of that particular event. There are many traumas to leaving home for the first time and if being massaged by creepy sweaty guys in toilets is one of them, I want no part of it.
Love Dom.
P.S. the writing style above is such because I have been reading a great deal of Wodehouse over the last few days. I rarely use words such as Ejaculate when referring to speach, but I wish to make it clear that there is no reason why one shouldn't.
*ha ha
OK so sadly, it doesn't quite fit. I don't know how to fix that, so just click here for the proper page...
Just something to whet your appetites...
 |
| From Bangkok |
There's a link to the school calander on the right of the page, so you can find out when I'm on half-term etc.
It's PE time!
Edit - I've fixed the link... sorry about that.
So it's the first day of school (it's actually the second week as I write this, but we can pretend, eh?).
Sam and I got up at the ungodly hour of 6am, falling to 5.45 in order to get some damn breakfast. I successfully managed to block my toilet, which Sam insisted was my fault. I maintain that if the main function of a toilet is to deal with organic waste, even a heroic quantity shouldn't present a problem.
Anyway, with that aside, we did manage to get out of the apartments in order to go to school. Amazingly, after a night's sleep, we were actually able to escape from the building. We met Laura in reception, and hopped into a taxi.
One bit of advice - it's very important to choose the right kind of taxi when travelling around Bangkok. You can't really get around on foot (except around some smaller districts) so most of your travelling is done in taxis. It is vital to not get the wrong kind. There are the right kind "Taxi-Meter" taxis. They have a meter in them, hence the name. They won't rip you off, and at least most of them know where they're going. There are also "Tuk-Tuks". These are terrifying tricycles with a seat on the back and a flimsy sunscreen over the top. There is just room for 3 on the back if you squeeze a bit. They will probably try and rip you off, and will also go as fast as they can around tight corners. We were charged 100 baht (which is about 1.20, just so's you know) for a very short trip that in a real taxi would only cost about 35 baht. So what, you may think - it's a minimum of 2.50 to get anywhere in a London taxi. You'd be right, but it seemed very rude to us, and Sam was very pleased with himself for knocking the guy down and giving him 40.
Very pleased until we had dinner with the Headmaster and he gave us a talk about being generous with tips, given that most people barely earn enough to live on. Back down to earth with a sickening crunch.
At school itself, we had very little to do since our timetables had yet to be set up. We wandered around and introduced ourselves to various teachers and tried to get lessons in the senior school instead of the junior.
Later on, we decided we'd go and check out the massive department store near the apartments. It's called Central, and is one of a chain around Bangkok. It's basically a slightly downmarket version of the Bullring or something of that nature - and as a result, isn't all that cheap. It is almost western prices, which is depressing. However, there are a lot of restaurants in it, many of which look pretty good, with low prices.
On an impulse, we went into a Sushi restaurant; madness, you might say. Well, I've had sushi before, but the others hadn't, and it was cheap enough that we could try it out without too much financial risk. We looked, in Sam's words, like rank amatures. Because we couldn't find the "Sushi selection in the menu, we were reduced to pointing to it in the window display. Demeaning or what?
Regardless, it arrived, and we weren't able to make it entirely clear that we were not staying for a full meal. Either way, it arrived. I had one of those seaweed wrapped ones, which are nice, and sam chose what looked like a ball of snot. Turned out to be a ball of mustard, so that came out again. Laura was finally brave enough to try it, and my second bit turned out to be a bit of bleached sheet rubber... but enough of that.
Love Dom
Yo,
So, I've been a bit bad at this so far. You will understand if I've been busy - and yes Ben. Busy. You are far lazier than me.
Anyway, where did I get too. We've arrived, been shown around the school (photos to come, by the way) and were all too tired to take much of it in. Laura was taken off to meet the little kiddies, while Sam and I were paraded around the school being introduced to people with frighteningly difficult to remember names. Like John and Bob. My hand still goes up and down automatically, after shaking so many hands. (Ho ho Phil, put that dirty imagination away).
After that, we were finally dismissed and returned to the Bangkok Garden Apartments (Or the BGs, which is easier to say). We all went for a quick brush up and agreed to meet downstairs to go out for dinner. We have all heard a great deal about this wonderful Restaurant known affectionately as "The Shack". Not an inspiring name, but hey. Basically, it's this place on the side of the road with a load of rickety metal tables and fold out chairs under a sheet of tarpaulin, with an "open plan" kitchen at one end. There are a surprising number of staff for such a... budget enterprise, and they're very helpful. So helpful in fact that I'm sure I didn't get anything like what I ordered, and I also found the way this damn woman kept refilling my drink from the bottle standing on the table next to me, as if my own arms were too weak from shaking hands I couldn't do it myself, distinctly irritating.
Regardless, we didn't actually make it that evening. Just a brief bit of explanation - the flats are arranged with around 6 giant towers which extend above a common 3rd floor. On this floor are all the pool, gym and restaurant facilities. There are also lifts to take you down to the street. We couldn't find them. After around 20 minutes of staggering around under what felt like the influence of horse tranquilizers, trying lift after lift which refused to take us any lower than floor 3, and a number which decided a quick trip to floor 13 was a good idea, we gave up and went to the restaurant inside.
Then, at around 7pm, it was time for bed.
Thanks for reading - I'll get to the rest of the week soon!
Oh, please leave comments, btw - click where it says "Comments".
Love,
Dom.
P.S. Any further complaints about my spelling will be ignored. Unless I'm in a bad mood, in which case I'll just slip one of the heavily armed guards a fiver and watch him shoot you and your family. Sweet dreams!
I've arrived.
Well, in fact, I arrived on monday morning at 9.30, but I've been rather busy.
The journey was fairly uninteresting, as is to be expected. On the way to barain we all had our own TVs, which was cool, but the fact that the SNES controller attached to it apparently didn't work was not cool at all but deadly, deadly warm. The second leg of the journey was even less satisfactory given that my headphones didn't work at all, so I had the dreadful shame of being forced to watch something as awful as "Stormbreaker" without even being able to hear what the arrogant litte bugger was saying. The three hour wait in Barain didn't help my mood, I'll be honest.
Then again, we weren't delayed and arrived in Bangkok International airport on time, with all limbs attached and only 3 screaming babies had been killed on route.
After a walk of some 200 miles, (Honest, it's a new airport and apparently that means they need to spread everything out as much as possible. It did have those escalators that get confused and go along the floor instead of up.) we got to the immigration and passport control area. It was with cocky ease that we ambled towards the booths, content that we had covered everything and couldn't possibly be turned away. We were amused by the pathetic struggles of the tourists scribbling away in order to apply, or so we thought, for a 30 day visa. We had a visa already, a multiple entry one no less, good for a whole year.
A few minutes later I got ink from one of my broken pens all over the form, and wrote my name in the wrong box.
Once in the taxi back from the airport, we headed towards our apartment complex - The "Bangkok Garden Apartments". If you google that, you'll find the website. It looks like centre parks. To all intents and purposes, it is Centre Parks. Our apartment is in block B, floor 10, number 1. It's not palatial, but it is very nice; for a gap year, it's amazing actually. Air con and everything.
I feel at this point, it would be unfair of me not to mention my friend. Well, at least, my acquaintance. Sam (Mc'Clure) is here also, in the same position as myself. We are sharing the apartment as it happens. He's debauched. He also has trouble curbing his rampant racism. Also here is Laura Goulding, the UK Shrewsbury headmaster's daughter. She's teaching the kindergarten years, from 2 years old. She is going grey and seems to be loosing i ;).
He also got the big, big bedroom (we tossed for it). I get it in three months, or at least, I should, if he doesn't flake more than an eczema sufferer in a bath full of sand.
Ok, I'm going to make a new post now, that is the journey done. It was a bit boring, I admit. I do have some fairly interesting stories for the next few days. I just need a few hours spare to catch up. I'm busier than a hooker working at a seaport after a freak arrival of 17 large galleons full of sailors.
Naturally you will all have heard about the recent bombings in Bangkok. It seems nine bombs were set off in the city killing 3 and wounding around 30. It will not come as a surprise to anyone that this news disturbed me slightly, but I still visited London after July the 7th, so I won't let it affect me too much.
I received a wonderful email from the Headmaster of the school in Bangkok, in which he pointed out that Bangkok was likely to return to 'business as usual' within a few weeks. Since the Thai people are largely courteous and gentle, many locals consider the bombings to be a great insult to the good name of the city.
It appears, also, that the bombings were politically motivated, and although I say this only from information gleamed from the media, it is suspected that rather than the sort of terrorists we're used to in this country; these terrorists were supporters of the old government. It seems there are some sore losers in Thailand.
Anyway, from the department of less interesting news, I leave home with my old school for London on Friday. We're performing our musical "Frankenstein!" which met with some success at the Edinburgh fringe over the summer (I'm one of the cellists). We're performing at the Britten Theatre, Royal College of Music, Prince Consort Road, London SW7. There are two performances at 2.30pm and 7.30pm.
That'll do for now, I'm supposed to be packing, really.
Dom
