The Thai Cock Croweth

That cock!!

                                

Nothing can really prepare you for waking up to your new life in a foreign country. I woke up to my alarm at 7:00 a.m. feeling displaced and irritated.  I had previously woken up at 4:30 to the barnyard sound of a rooster crowing. I laughed at the thought of a rooster in the middle of a city, but figured it was only a logical addition to the filthy cockroaches,  kamikaze rats and x-mas bulb nipple dogs. I was exhausted and easily drifted back to sleep. 

Until 5:00 a.m. The damn cock was still crowing. I thought roosters just did the one wake up call and then went to eat their grain or whatever it is that roosters eat, but this particular rooster seemed to have a snooze button. It went off every half hour for about 7 minutes straight. So, when my actual 7:00 a.m. alarm went off I was feeling very groggy and not at all well rested. I had to take a minute or two to remember that I had moved halfway across the world and my new boss was picking me up in an hour.

I went through the usual morning routine. Toilet time, shower, get dressed and go. The first item on my itinerary went smoothly. I even remembered that Thai toilets cannot handle flushed toilet paper so I had set a plastic bag on the bathroom door for the used paper. I was impressed with my forward thinking until I reached for the toilet paper and realized there was none.There was not even a toilet paper holder. Dammit. 

 I turned my attention to the hose next to the toilet. I had read about these fabled hoses before I arrived in Thailand. Apparently Thai people use the ass hose instead of toilet paper. Bidet style, except it is a hand held hose. I decided that even though I had had a horrible sleep I was not going to let it ruin my Carpe Diem attitude that I had promised myself to adopt in Thailand. I grabbed the hose, positioned it, and then I pressed down the trigger button. 

Holy Hell. I threw down the hose in shock. The lack of serious water pressure from the shower had lulled me into a false sense of security about the ass hose, but it seems that the plumber had just re-directed all the pressure from the shower into the ass hose. The ass hose had seriously violated me. Now, I am open to a lot of things, but I do believe in asking permission, and here was this dirty, dirty ass hose just going wherever he pleased without even asking my name. I kicked the hose to the side, deciding we were no longer on speaking terms, and cleaned myself off in the shower.

I used a lot of soap during that shower because about half way through I remember that I had forgotten to ask Craig about where to buy a toothbrush (or toilet paper for that matter). I finger brushed again and when I spat on the floor (Not being gross, there is no sink.), I was alarmed to see a small puddle of pinkish toothpaste froth pass between my bare feet and disappear down the drain. 

I had horrible visions of some Thai Vampire Spider having bit me in the middle of the night and now the infected pustules were exploding, but I assumed a bite from a Vampire Spider would hurt and I didn’t feel any pain. I spat again and sure enough my spit was still the color of diluted blood. I began to panic. Second day in Thailand and I would need to be admitted to a Thai hospital. Dammit. Why didn’t I purchase that health insurance like my Dad told me too? Why don’t I have a damn mirror so I can at least look inside my mouth? 

I sat down on the red plastic chair in my living room trying to take a few deep breaths before I got dressed and knocked frantically on Craig’s door. I looked at the moldy pillow and thought that maybe I had been infected by fatal mold spores. Oh, god. I had seen a CSI about mold spores. They really can be deadly. Why didn’t I take that damn pillow to Rat Town last night? 

Then I saw it. The inconspicuous, empty bottle of red wine sitting beside the pillow. In my lazy, softly drunken haze I had gone to sleep without brushing my teeth.

                             

Eventually I would dub these 'hand spiders' and
 be quite comfortable with them hanging out on
the ceiling in the bathroom. But at this point in the
journey they are Thai Vampire Spiders and compel nothing
but tears and screams!

                               

Rat Army General vs. Prairie Girl

Rat Town. I was still reeling from the phenomenon of ice in the beer glass, flying roaches, and the red wine splattered across my new shirt. I supposed that the next logical step would be to visit a little place called Rat Town. Bonnie was already hoping off the stoop and heading down the alleyway as she shined a flashlight in to the sky and shouted, “Onward to Rat Town!!!”

I followed behind Bonnie, but the process of moving in a straight line was proving slightly difficult. The beer and wine were working their magic on my overtaxed, jet-lagged body and on my over-stimulated yet strangely dulled mind. The bouncing glow of the flashlight had a strangely soothing effect on the otherwise harsh surroundings of the alleyway. 

It was too dark to clearly see the large amounts of litter lining the sides of the alleyway. The only reminder of the squalor was the soft rustle of plastic bags as the breeze pinned them against walls and fences. I could still smell the sweet stench of rotting fruit but it seemed much less abrasive in the fading heat of the evening. The soft growl of motorbikes passing seemed much farther away and a shiny Cheshire cat moon was becoming visible over the flat top of a three story apartment building. It was beautiful, and I began to feel smug and warm about my decision for adventure. I had moved, alone, to a foreign country and here I was taking an evening stroll with two kind people in a moonlit alley.  I felt strong and renewed.

My comfortable drunken reverie was interrupted when I saw Bonnie stop abruptly and put up her hands in a command for Craig and I to follow suit. Bonnie crouched down and had us join her in a squatting huddle. “Okay, Rat Town is about six feet away. We have to move quietly so we have the element of surprise. Also, we have to move in darkness. Trust me, you gotta do it this way to get the full effect. You guys just follow me and when I stop, line up beside me.”

 Craig shook his head and let out a sigh that suggested he had done this before but was resigned to making the trek again. Bonnie stood up and motioned for us to line up behind her, back to front. We literally tip toed about six feet up the alley, keeping a perfect, straight line formation. I realized that we were headed towards the big blue garbage bins that I had earlier seen the mangy dog eating out of. I could see the silhouettes of the three garbage bins. The garbage was pilled so high that it had spilled out and around the bins. The wine was obviously settling in because I remember thinking that, in the dim moonlight, the garbage bins resembled the three wise men wearing their funny shaped hats. Bonnie’s hand suddenly shot up and I could see her fingers silently counting down from five. When she hit zero, she turned on the flashlight and all hell broke loose.

Think about Templeton from Charlotte's Web...
It is not so bad, just....
Think about Templeton from Charlotte's Web...

                                 

The spotlight shone directly on the garbage bins and illuminated about 24 beady eyes that stared straight back at us. That first blast of light froze all the rodents. They turned to look at us but stayed completely still. These rats were bigger, glossier and angrier looking than any rat I had seen before. They bulged in the middle, giving the impression that each of them had acquired a hairy beer gut over the years. I could even see the paws of the beasts, gnarled mini hands, which clawed at white plastic bags. Craig shifted his weight and the sound of his foot scraping on the pavement of the alleyway sent the rat army into a fluster.             They exploded in every direction. Some rats jumped deeper into the bins, some jumped off the side landing on the over flowing mass of garbage and scurried off into the vacant lot.

 One rat, he must have been the Rat Army General, (I swear I heard him shout, “Save Yourselves!” to his rat buddies)  kamikazied off the front of the garbage bins and landed on the concrete with a thick thud. He quickly recovered, gave himself a shake, his beer belly rolling with the motion, and starting running directly at us. I screamed and jumped behind Craig, nearly pushing him over with my self-protecting zeal. Bonnie assumed a combat position, her legs slightly bent and the flashlight following the rat general’s every move. I thought she was going to kick the rat but when he was only three feet away she shouted “Run!”,  grabbed my shirt and took off  towards our row houses. We collapsed on the concrete stoop, sitting side by side and laughing, that unique kind of laugh which is born of fear, pride and desperation.

Shortly after the episode with the Rat General, we collectively decided that it was time for bed. It was nearing midnight and I had to meet the boss in the early morning. We stood in a row on our concrete stoop, each of us searching for our keys. Bonnie unlocked her pad lock first and whispered good night. I opened my door and the smell from my pillow, which was still sitting beside my door, hit my nostrils. Craig waved good night as he disappeared into his row house and I stepped inside and stood staring at my pillow. There had been a slight breeze outside, giving the illusion of a moderately cool evening, but the day’s heat had not escaped my sauna and was still curling around my body.

 I went to turn on my fan but quickly remember the jet engine noise it was now emitting and figured my neighbors might not appreciate sleeping next to a runway. I laid down in the dark, the moldy smell lingered gently in my nostrils so I tried to breathe only through my mouth and, after about 5 deep breaths, I was fast asleep.

I wish your screen was scratch and sniff.

                                       

Beer, Ice and Roaches.

I woke up four hours later to complete darkness and a soft rapping at my door. I had fallen asleep without any lights on and now my wonderful little heat box was pitch black. I shouted that I needed five minutes but the long nap made my voice sound like an aging bullfrog. To my great relief the door knocker responded in English, “My name is Craig. We are just having a couple beers outside join us when you are ready.”

 I turned the light on just in time to see a very tall shadow walk past my cloudy window. Craig? Right, my new head teacher. I quickly rinsed the thick layer of crusty sleep and sweat off my body with relatively cold water then I went to brush my teeth. “Dammit” I muttered as I applied toothpaste to my finger hoping to rub off the layer of film on my teeth. I threw on some clothes, tried to take a quick look in the mirror, realized I didn’t have one, then took a deep breath and unlocked my door for the first time that day.

I saw three figures sitting outside, the tall one must be the head teacher Craig,  one was a smaller, balding man with a kind smile and the last was a beautiful young woman with curly black hair.

 “You must be Victoria!” the woman stated as she shifted over on the concrete curb to let me have a seat, “I have really been looking forward to you coming, I have been the only girl for over a month!”  

I didn’t know how to respond but I was certainly glad she was happy to see me. I sat down on the curb next to her and the shorter, balding man got up and approached to introduce himself. When he stood up I noticed he was actually quite short, a good few inches shorter than my 5’6, and he had a bright, kind smile and adorable jug ears. “My name is Ira. I’m from New York city, been here around 6 months. Nice to meet you.”  Then the tall one, my work superior,  stood up behind Ira and approached to shake my hand. I stood up to greet him and said rather redundantly “Hi, My name is Victoria.” 

“I’m Craig, from America, you want a beer?” After living inside my own head, which had been living inside a breezeless sauna, for the past 7 hours, a beer and some company sounded absolutely wonderful.

                             

                                      
“What are you doing?” I was trying to gratefully accept the offer of beer but when Craig began to put ice cubes into my glass I had to protest. It was unheard of. I just said no. Chris laughed at my shocked protest and replied “You can say no to the cubes but it’s a pretty hot country, as you may have noticed this afternoon, and beer tends to warm up pretty quickly and then taste like warm piss. The cubes combat the warm piss phenomena and hydrate you in the mean time. Your choice though.” Looking around I noticed that everyone had a glass of Singha beer with ice. I turned back to Craig and  I nodded to give the go ahead about the ice and muttered something inane like “When in Rome…”                                                          

After about five small glasses of beer, with ice no less, I was starting to feel much more relaxed. The girl with the beautiful, black curly hair had told me she was from Louisiana and her name was Bonnie. She was very easy to chat to so I related my stories about my hellish stay in the airport and about my traitor fan and pillow. She laughed hard and made me feel 10 times better. 

It was a wonderful way to spend an evening, sitting in a narrow, concrete alleyway staring up at the night sky, bonding with new co-workers and having a drink. I was much more relaxed now. I was a little put off by the tired, hungry looking dogs that meandered and skittered by. Some of the older lady dogs had nipples that hung down like old Christmas bulbs, but they gave us wide berth and I almost managed to ignore them. “Would anyone like some Canadian wine?” I asked, feeling a relieved solidarity with my new friends. Ira told me that he was heading off to bed but Craig and Bonnie were very interested in trying some Canuck vino, so I went to get it from my room.

I had just poured each of us a glass when a giant, shiny, fist-sized cockroach jumped up from the drain sewer grate built into our stoop and took off running between us and the row houses. Sensing that it was trapped, the cockroach stopped short, wiggled it’s finger long antennae, shook out its wings and began flying directly towards me. I screamed, jumped forward about 5 feet, which landed me on the opposite side of the narrow alley, and I managed to spill the rest of my wine half down my shirt and half on the ground. Craig and Bonnie were in hysterics, laughing so hard both of them were bent over the stoop gasping for breath. 

When Bonnie finally came up for air she looked at me with I dare you eyes and said,  “You feel like checking out Rat Town?”

He can fly. In your mouth. (Theoretically)

A Room with a Fan

Moving the large, sky blue, standing fan from the front room to the bedroom, I settled in to rest. The adrenaline was wearing off and the jet lag setting in. I grabbed a guidebook from my bag and settled in to read, for the umpteenth time, about cultural do’s and don’ts. 

 I took my time arranging the pillow for optimal comfort. The warm air from the fan slowly dried the water droplets on my bare legs and I felt almost cool, such a welcome respite. I opened my book and laughed as the air from the fan blew it closed. Opening it again, I tried to position myself as a buffer against the breeze, which worked for a moment but then I had to brush my tickling hair out of my face and as soon as I let go of the book the pages fluttered in the breeze and I lost my place again. I was unwilling to turn the fan to a lower setting, unwilling to let go of the relative level of comfort I had achieved, so I put the book down and tried to drift off.

I love you so much I hate you.

                                     

The fan was still blowing my hair all over my face making me itchy and annoyed. I tried to pull my hair back into an impenetrable pony tail but small strands were constantly breaking free and dancing around and in my nostrils. In exasperation, I buried my face in my pillow. Not a good idea. I got hit with such a strong waft of mildew and mold that I threw up a little in my mouth. Gagging, I tossed the pillow across the room knocking over my sky blue fan which crashed with such a loud bang that I went from the prone position to standing, purely on defensive instinct. The face of the fan had dropped off and one of the blades was broken and was now a jagged weapon, still rotating on the highest setting. The jagged, screeching fan was positioned between me and the wall socket. I stood on the bed preparing myself to jump over the treacherous beast that I had just been looking upon as a savior. With a shout I launched myself off the bed, slipped on the pillow I had just thrown and slammed straight into the door frame.

My collision with the door frame jammed my index finger, which was already turning a murky shade of green, but I managed to unplug the fan and saved my flesh from being chopped up into tiny bits. Dammit. I was sweating again from all the excitement and exertion. I angrily grabbed the pillow, which I justifiably blamed for this whole mess, and examined it for the source of that rancid stench.

 As soon as I took off the pillow case, the source of the stench became clear. The pillow was no longer white but a soft shade of yellow that seemed to blend into a deeper brown stain at certain points. I could almost see the outline of the stranger’s face that had sweated and drooled its way into being permanently indented on my pillow. Dotted amongst the outline of the face of my unknown guest was undeniable mold. It ranged from green to black and from flat to fuzzy. My pillow was alive.

I suppose at most times in my life, encountering a pillow that had a life of its own would be a laughing matter; something to joke about with friends over beers that night. Today it didn’t seem so funny. I was hideously jet lagged, I could feel the lack of sleep pooling in dark clouds under my eyes, my baby toe still throbbed a little from the renegade shampoo bottle, and now my index finger was turning green. I felt like I had already failed in my new ‘confident adventure girl’ persona and my only task so far had been to unpack my bags.

 Recalling the mangy dog with the appetite for plastic I decided that a trip to the blue trash barrels would be too difficult a task, so I merely placed the pillow by the door with the intention of throwing it out later, when I had regained my confidence. I replaced the face of the fan but because of the broken blade it made a hideous jet engine noise when I turned it on. Even at the lowest speed it sounded like there was a Boeing 747 in the room. I made a makeshift pillow out of my hooded sweater and settled down for a nap. I decided to quit fighting the heat and instead treat it as a large blanket helping lull me to sleep.

I  kicked this guy out of bed.