Sex on the Beach

I swear that title sounds more exciting than this entry actually is, though, to my credit, I probably just increased the traffic to this blog tenfold since now it might show up accidentally in Google searches for porn. Anyway, once again, I’m behind in my chronicle. I spend most of this week still recovering from my body’s angry reaction to the anti-Malaria drugs I was on. It wasn’t the drug themselves so much as the fact that the doctor at Rochester decided to omit the fact that one needs to take them with food, draink a whole glass of water, and not take them right before bed, blah, blah, blah. Turns out I was pretty much doing the exact opposite of everything you’re supposed to do when you take these drugs, and I paid the price for my ignorance. My system seems to have recovered completely though, since I was able to consume green curry again without any pain (at least, without more pain than is usually incurred by the consumption of green curry).

But this entry isn’t about green curry. No, it’s about Pattaya, our port of call after our stop at the Sriracha tiger zoo. We didn’t really have any concrete plans for things to do in Pattaya, and we didn’t really need them. This was some of the greatest people watching on the planet, since Pattaya is home to one of Thialand’s most infamous red-light districts, right on the shores of the Indian Ocean. Wandering up and down the beach in the afternoon, one encounters in abundance members of a distinct demographic, not found in the west. I am, of course, referring to the “Sexpat”. This is a white guy who is probably old enough to qualify for a free hash brown at IHOP on senior discount Saturdays with his hairy, wrinkled, tattooed, sunburn of an arm wrapped around a Thai girl less than half his age wearing more makeup than “Clown-Face Barbie”. These guys are hilarious, since they’re probably among the most obviously sleazy guys on the planet, at it’s pretty clear that they know it. We kept trying to snap photos, but it was hard to do so without looking equally shady.

After dinner, we bought tickets to a show. No, not that kind of show. Come on, my Mom reads this blog…This was your standard wholesome Vegas style cabaret, complete with lavish sets, plush red upholstered seats, and absurdly dressed showgirls. “Alcazar” had one unique difference: the showgirls in Vegas didn’t used to have weeners. Thailand is famous for it’s “Ladyboys” and rightfully so, since if I didn’t know better there would have been absolutely no way to distinguish these women from your average tall Asian supermodel. The show itself was great, but by far the best number was when a guy started “singing” (the whole thing was lip synced, for reasons that became clear after the show) with the curtain covering half his body. Soon, he disappeared and a woman popped out doing the same thing. Fairly soon, it became apparent that the man and the women were, in fact, the same person, with clothes and makeup similar to Two-Face from Batman. It’s times like this that I wish Blogger would still let me post pictures, because this was really a remarkable act.

Following the show, come of the performers milled around the parking lot for photo-ops. Joey and I quickly obliged, and we walked up to the first showgirl we could find and handed over our 40 baht. She was dressed in a white gown, and looked a lot like the ninja girl from Crouching Tiger. However, when she thanked us , I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between her voice, oh, and that of, say, Walter Cronkite. Immediately, I understood why the lip syncing was necessary.

Post-photoshoot we decided to venture into the belly of the beast, and take a walk down the Pattaya strip. This reminded me a lot of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, but with more cheerleader/schoolgirl/nurse outfits, and substantially less sanity. Being clearly American, we became targets for pretty much everyone, and I made a lot instant “friends” who wanted to sell me stuff/take me places/rob me. I do have to say, that walking around in Pattaya does make you feel very popular, since, when even the scrawny white guy walks past the bar, he is showered with shouts of, “Hey sexy man, come over here!”.

For me, though, the highlight of this adventure was the snack food. Lesson #1: let your scorpions cool before you try and eat them. I made this mistake and had a nasty tongue burn. I’m not sure what possessed me to do this, but, come on, when am I gonna be able buy this stuff again? Maybe I’ll see if the giant Pittsford Wegmans has any in back. Lesson #2: If you are going to eat a scorpion, bring dental floss. I also made this mistake, and, when I brushed my teeth later that night, I was still finding legs in the sink (not making this up). All in all, I don’t know if I’d recommend them to everyone, but I’d probaly eat them again. They taste like a really thick soggy barbecue potato chip. They taste…exoskeletony.

In the end, I had a great time in Pattaya. Maybe now I’ll finally be able to talk about events that happened THIS week. Next up, Ayuttaya: fewer prostitutes, more monks, just as interesting. Stay tuned.

Crocodiles, Tigers, and Infectious Diseases

Oh my. I’ve never been a huge fan of zoos, mostly because I feel like they’re a little too voyeuristic of my taste. Still, most of the institutions of animal observation that I’ve been to in the states are pretty high quality, with expansive recreations of natural habitats (though always with a heavy does of Disneyfication). With that the Sriracha Tiger Zoo contrasted almost as strongly as it smelled.

According the Wikipedia, Sriracha is known for a recent outbreak of a notorious Asian disease a few years ago. Now, I don’t want to alarm anyone, so I won’t get into the details, but I’ll give you a hint: it starts with an “a” and ends with a “vian influenza”. Walking through the gates, it’s not all that surprising. Sriracha is not an especially clean attraction, and you can smell it from the parking lot. Still, there were certainly some attractions worth seeing. First, a stop at the crocodile show. Walking in, I was reminded of a ramshackle version of a sea world set (“The Pirates of Pinniped,” this production was not).

Soon enough, it became clear that “The Underpaid Workers Pissing Off Large Reptiles Show” would’ve been a far more appropriate title than “Crocodile Show”. Seriously, I can’t describe it any more clearly than that. These two performers enter the enclosure and prod, whack, or otherwise irritate the crocs, who, predictably, try and bite back as the “trainers” back out of the way just in time. Geez, if people will pay for this, maybe I can score a quick buck charging admission to let people watch me poke at my cat Duncan.

We also attended the “Amazing Circus”, which I will not describe herein, mostly because, it was more of the same, except the animals were primarily land-based rather than aquatic. There was also a nice helping of the cliché “flaming hoop” material. Far more interesting was the elephant show. Not because the elephants did anything remarkable, oh no, human suffering is way funnier. Also funnier, because it didn’t happen to me. It almost did, though, as I nearly raised my hand to break the awkward silence when they asked for a volunteer. However, right as I was placing my camera back in my pocket, Joey beat me to it and promptly made his way to the front. There but for the grace of Joey go I.

The guy in charge had Joe lay down face up on a mat, while the other (female) volunteer did the same, face down, about 20 feet away. Then, out came Jumbo*, trunk held high, who walked over to the other volunteer and used his stocky foot to give her a “massage”, which mostly consisted of him just stepping on her butt. Needless to say, we were all a little worried about Joe, and we wondered if he should roll over for his own well being. Turns out that the request for a male volunteer was purposeful, and so was having him lay on his back, since the elephant promptly walked over and gave Joey a solid kick in the jumbos. Watching this spectacle (that is the only word that describes it), I felt a lot like the President who watches the secret service agent leap in front of a big gray bullet. Joe seems to have survived unscathed, at least physically. I cannot necessarily say the same for his dignity. As for me, I got some great pictures.


*names changed to protect the innocent

Gastric Defeat

The title of this entry is the flip side of the “gastric triumph” entry from a little while ago. I’ll get into that shortly, but first I must apologize for the lateness of this update. Looking back, I think I’m running about a week behind (for myriad reasons soon to become clear). I think the best course of action in this case is to divide up the last week/weekend into manageable bites instead of trying to write a massive War and Peace style entry.

To reveal the main reason that I’ve been slow to the posting (besides the bad internet connection, which does have one redeeming quality in that it makes a great scapegoat), I direct your attention once more, dear reader, to the title of this post. Following the attack of the questionable pork products from a few weeks ago, I’m right back where I started with another more virulent case of “Bangkok Belly”. Locals and traveler-types alike use this term to refer to a lot of diseases, from indigestion to amoebic dysentery. Thankfully, though, I’m pretty sure that I do not have amoebic dysentery. I think one becomes immune to it after dying from it enough times playing “Oregon Trail”. I have no regrets though; I’d still rather take my changes on the long way to Fort Laramie before paying the Indian $5 to help me ford the river.

Kickass 90s computer games aside, I’m still not feeling great. However, after a little charades this afternoon with Nai, I managed to gesture my way through the concept of heartburn (wish I had pictures of this one) enough that he figured out to take me to a drugstore. The only way this pharmacy could possibly have been more shady is if it were sewn into the lining of someone’s trenchcoat, maybe while he says something to the tune of, “Hey buddy, lookin’ for a good time?” The woman at the desk, who reminded me of a combination of Master Yoda and the Wise Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock, kept passing me boxes with instructions entirely in Thai. I had no idea what any of these products did, and I learned in 6th grade health class that you should be very careful when old women offer you mysterious pills. My solution? Buy the first box with English on it and look it up online.

Score one for dumb luck. With my less than three dollars I managed to get the Thai version of Prilosec. It seems to be helping, since I managed to eat my way through an entire bag of bugles, one bugle at a time. It took me about an hour and a half, and I must say that it was rather unsatisfying, since “one bugle at a time” isn’t especially conducive to the “put the bugles on your fingers and pretend you’re a witch” game. Ah woe, ah me.

Now, with today’s festivities adequately documented, I can get back to last week. Look for the recap across the next few days. Hopefully, I’ll remember all the good stuff; somewhere between the scorpions and the transsexuals things have started to get lost. Speaking of Lost, I think that’s an appropriate way to close this entry, with a CLIFFHANGER ENDING….

(to be continued…via flashback)

Hog Wild

For a trip to really be considered an adventure, one needs that brief moment of pure abject terror. For me, nothing personified this idea better than the roads of Ko Samet, via motorcycle. I have never ridden a motorcycle before. However, I am an American college age male, which, according to most car insurance companies, qualifies me as a “risk-taker”. No wanting to disappoint, I accepted the challenge. We arrived on the island on Saturday afternoon for a brief overnight stay. Upon landing at the dock, we stopped at the first motorcycle rental place and picked up our sweet sweet rides. Mine was red, with a shiny decal number 22 on the front (nickname: “The Double Deuce”). After giving me the standard “here’s how to make it go” series of gestures, the attendant suggested that I ride to the end of the block and back, to make sure everything was in working order. The breeze was whipping through my buzzcut and I felt the call of the open road, so I leaned forward, adjusted my sunglasses, revved the engine, and…drove about 20 feet at a top speed lower than that of a Fisher Price Power Wheels product.

My old lady like driving aside, I did manage to make it back without falling down or killing anyone. Maybe this could be ok. It seemed like fun. Problem is, Ko Samet is not, shall we say, the most developed of vacation spots, and the 20 feet of road that I had just torn up probably accounted for about eighty percent of the total pavement on the island. Off we went, as I tentatively crept along and tried to avoid falling off my newly acquired hog. Once we hit the mud, though, life certainly became more interesting. You may recall that June is the heart of the monsoon season in Southeast Asia. You may also recall that I am not an especially large person, certainly not one with enough mass to properly weigh down a vehicle that weighs substantially more than I do. These factors combined to make circumstances, well, rather slippery.

I only really wiped out once, but I decided to make it count and land in a puddle. I also did nearly crash into a tree, but managed to activate the brakes at the last second. We drove up and down the whole island, winding through the jungle on our speeder bikes, eventually arriving at the imperial base that controls the deflector shield for the death star so we could deactivate it and Lando could use the Millenium Falcon to destroy the Empire’s ultimate weapon once and for all (at least, that’s what I was doing, I don’t know about the rest of the group).

For as white as my knuckles were whenever we stopped, I think I did a fairly respectable job and remained, for the most part, intact. The same could not be said for Joey, who ate pavement (the other twenty percent) while we were riding back from dinner. He and I were the last two of our little convoy, and between the two of us we couldn’t get his bike to restart. This is how I wound up riding through the jungle, at night, through the mud, in the rain, by myself. Needless to say, the journey probably took me longer than most, since I was concentrating very hard on having my life continue beyond the next five minutes. I survived, though, and so did Joey, though we both agreed that we felt much better once we’d gotten back to the hotel and obtained beer.

Speaking of the accommodations, I’d like to reiterate the lack of development on Ko Samet. Our room reflected this, and I believe in Thai one might refer to such a dwelling as a “sheea twhoal” Despite the Spartan room, we enjoyed the rest of the trip, That said, we did have more fun than anyone else since our room a.) did not smell like a port-a-john and b.) did not have a roof which allowed the weather outside to become the weather inside. The next morning required another motorcycle ride back to the pier. It stands to reason that I’d only manage to really get the hang of it about five minutes before returning it. Go figure.

Gastric Triumph

I have done it. I have consumed the only Asian food that Andrew Zimmern could not bring himself to stomach: the durian. For those still living in desolation without cable TV (my parents included, I only watch at school), Andrew Zimmern hosts one of my favorite shows on the Travel Channel, creatively titled Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern. In this hour-long gustatory extravaganza, Zimmern circles the globe consuming whatever fare is served to him, from eyeballs to arthropods. All, that is, except durian: the king of the fruits, which on two occasions he has been forced to spit out, declaring something along the lines of, “that is the most foul thing I have ever eaten”.

Gotta try it.

The fruit itself looks like a cross between a porcupine and a football, with spines so pointy that it’s very painful to handle it without picking it up by the stem (I know, I tried this too). After the helpful fruit man with the large machete opens it, one finds a series of pale yellow segments with a strong odor. Zimmern compares it to smelly socks and/or rotting meat. This smell can be so strong that in most of Southeast Asia, hotels will have you escorted from the premises if you try to bring one in. For all the build-up, I couldn’t tell what all the fuss was about. Sure, it didn’t smell like daisies at the perfume convention, but it didn’t smell like socks either.

Ok, go time. Biting into it didn’t taste especially terrible, but texturally, the durian has no equivalent, except for possibly really rotten peaches. For lack of a better word, it “gooifies” when you bite it. Still, I think Mr. Zimmern certainly overreacted. The durian does not deserve the gag-inducing stigma that western palates have placed on it. I might even eat it again if the mood strikes. That said, my buddy Andy still has me beat in the consumption of strange organ meats department. But who knows, I still have a lot of Thailand left.

PS: If I ever form a rock band, I'm pretty sure we'll be called “Gastric Triumph”.

The Week in Review: Round Sorng

Sorng means two; I finally learned how to count and I’m gonna show it off every chance I get. I need to update now, because if I don’t then I’ll forget and all the excitingness that was this week will be lost forever in the bowels of my memory. Speaking of bowels, I realized I left some critical information off of the last post. Let’s backtrack to last weekend, when we stopped briefly at an exhibition of photos taken by the king (His Majesty has a lot of interesting hobbies, including photography and jazz composition, leading my roommate to declare, “The King seems like a cool dude”). As I wandered through the show, a series of picturesque landscapes struck me. The composition and the artistry wasn’t what I was interested in so much as the context in which the shots were taken: at the royal winter palace in Phu Ping province. Let us also take a moment to recall that in the Thai language, the letter “H” is silent. Utter hilarity.

Anyway, back to this week, in which I have three interesting stories to relay. First, I finished building my device. I have yet to hook it up to anything, so right now it looks like an overbuilt paperweight, but I’m hoping to see some signs of life sometime next week. Further bulletins as events warrant.

To complete this machine, I needed to obtain some parts, which leads me to my second story: visiting the shady Thai electronics market. My grad student (and immediate source of advice/Thai profanity) Nai volunteered to take me on Tuesday morning. I asked how we would get there and about how long it would take. He replied, “We take bus, about 20 minutes”. Turns out the term “bus” can be interpreted rather loosely around here, as we climbed into the back of a pickup truck with some benches welded to the sides. I think this would’ve been more frightening had the powerful dose of automotive fumes not kept my senses in check. After a short ride, we disembarked at a random street corner, only to board another bus soon after. This vehicle looked much more like what I picture as a bus, though it didn’t have any doors and the driver seemed to be using a large piece of pipe instead of a gear shift handle. Either way, we were back on the road. Turns out though, that the 20 minute estimate seems a little inaccurate, as we rolled into downtown Bangkok about an hour later.

If they’d had these markets in the US when I was in high school, I’d be a lot poorer now. This place was really cool, if your definition of cool involves boxes upon boxes of random mechanical parts (which mine does). Another salient feature of Ban Mo (the official Thai name) is the prevalence of sidewalk TV and appliance repair pushcarts. Instead of walking down the street to the aroma of grilled meat, we get the complex musk that is lead-core solder. I love the smell of engineering in the morning. We found the gears I needed (sort of, I spent a few hours modifying them once we got back), and boarded another doorless wonder bus for the trip home.

Lastly, this week was also notable in that I, for the first time in my life, was presented with the honor of participating in a venerable ancient Asian tradition: Karaoke! This experience completely contradicted my existing concept of Japanese businessmen cheering each other on in a crowded bar. Instead, we (the six of us plus a cadre of grad students) were led to a small dark private room with a TV/Microphone setup. It took a little while for the rocking to commence, but rock we did. My personal favorite song of the night? “Sexy, Naughty, Bitchy” (Actual lyrics: “Sexy sexy sexy, naughty naughty naughty, bitchy bitchy bitchy, yeah!”) Compared to these profound words, Britney Spears sounds like Lord Byron.

As for this weekend, I’m off to Ko Samet, an island hotspot about 3 hours south of the city, followed by another hour on a ferry. Farang pay about 10 times as much as native Thais, but I think Aeng, our guide, is going to try to sneak us in. Should be an interesting trip, to be documented in full upon my return, assuming we don’t all get busted and wind up in Thai prison. Not that we will, but I have to say things like that to keep Mom on her toes.

Wats Aplenty

Once again, here we are on Thursday and I have yet to post about the events of last weekend. I could use the excuse that I’ve been working a lot, but last night I went out Karaokeing (more on this in future posting), so the work thing doesn’t really jive. I’m going to chalk it up to my rediscovery of Super Mario, which is a great way to consume your evening when you’re not karaokeing. I already have 91 power stars. Yay me.

Anyway, last Saturday took us to three of Bangkok’s most famous temples, as well as the two major residences of the royal family. We started our day at Wat Arun, the Temple of Dawn, which resembles a concrete Eiffel Tour, albeit with a Khmer twist. The coolest part about Wat Arun is that it’s decorated completely with broken shards of Chinese porcelain arranged artistically, like this. (Note: a picture was supposed to go here. The internet hates me).

After taking a ferry back across the Chao Praya river, we visited Wat Pho, pronounced “Poe” (like Edgar Allen, or the red teletubbie if you prefer). This is the site of the famous reclining Buddha, a massive gold-plated bronze statue depicting the Buddha’s final moments in his earthly state. Let me first say that this monument is on the official list of “Locations to Which Pictures Do Not Do Justice”. This thing is big. Really big. If I were a better writer I’d paint a nuanced picture of its majesty with the English language, but I’m not, so I guess we’ll just have to go with “really big”. Although pictures really don’t capture it, I tried my best to get one (they encourage photography, don’t worry). I did, however, have to fight my way through the entire Indian subcontinent that decided to visit the same day we did. I think I managed to snap a couple decent ones.

Next we took a short ride over to Wat Phra Kaeo and the Grand Palace. This is the “National Temple” of sorts, which is connected to the royal residence. Not much to discuss here, except that the palace guards are under the same no talking/laughing/emotion/movement restriction as the guards at Buckingham palace, making a photoshoot a no-brainer. This never gets old.

On Sunday, we headed to Jatujak Market (known as simply JJ market to the in-crowd), the largest open air market in the world. This is not an evcnt for the claustrophobic, or anyone with olfactory inhibitions. Walking around, I felt like a rat lost in a giant smelly maze, a maze with Folex watches and elephants made out of coconuts. Again, there’s not much else I can say beyond that, except that I bought lots of cool stuff and just tried not to get lost. It didn’t help that I was still recovering from the night before, when I’d purchased a bag of mysterious pork products from a nice lady on a street corner. I ate said pork, which soon after tried to eat its way back out. I survived, and I’m just now getting back to gastric equilibrium. After JJ, it was back to work. So far, the work week has been more interesting than most, but that will have to wait for next post.