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.

                                          

Finger Brushing in a Row House

“Here we are. Just gotta walk the last thirty feet because the car cannot fit.” 

My new boss gallantly grabbed my backpack from the trunk. The backpack looked much more proportional on his six foot frame as he forged ahead down the increasingly narrow alleyway. 

We had parked just ahead of three chest high, blue trash cans that were overflowing with plastics bags. I was staring at the obvious eye sore when one crashed down and a victorious looking street dog grabbed a mouthful of plastic and scurried off into an empty lot. The sudden movement of the trash pile caused the slow yet penetrating scent of rotting fish, death and sour fruit to reach my nostrils. Mixed with the oppressive heat it smelt like someone had taken the lid off some kind of cannibalistic crockpot. My ‘illusion of normalicy’ bubble had officially burst.

Thar she blows....

                                   

My new boss stepped up onto a concrete slab and began to fiddle with the padlock on my new front door. The housing unit consisted of 5 single story row houses (with 5 more in the back). Mine was number three. I stepped through the door and was happy to see a clean, rather clinic looking room. The heat was no less oppressive than it had been outside but it was nice to put my bags down with some sense of finality. My boss gave me the grand tour, 

“This is the living room, This is the bedroom, and here is the toilet.” 

“Looks good” I replied, “It has a bed and a toilet. All you need really!” 

I was still affecting my tough girl stance on conquering developing countries standards of living.

 “I will leave you to unpack and settle in.” My new boss continued, “The head teacher, Craig, will stop by later to check on you and introduce himself. I will pick you up on the main road tomorrow morning at 8:00. We will go for a special Thai breakfast before we start your training.”

 I thanked him profusely for picking me up from the airport and handed him a bottle of Canadian wine and a Saskatoon Berry Jam gift package. 

“Thank you very much” he said as he accepted the package, “this is very thoughtful of you but, my wife and I don’t drink, so please keep this and share it with the teachers. They definitely appreciate alcohol in all its forms.”
My boss stepped off the concrete slab of a patio and headed toward his car. I watched him reverse his way out of the narrow alleyway, no small feat, then I went into my new home to unpack.

             I unpacked a few things, hanging up a few work shirts and skirts that Mum had bought me before I left, but I was still really hot. I decided to take my first shower in Thailand. Seemed like an exciting notion; my first shower in my first overseas home. I grabbed my towel, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner but when I reached the bathroom and tried to put my armload of stuff down I realized that something was missing.

 First, there was no shower. There was a shower head, but was it was just attached to the wall, there was no actual shower. I went to put my stuff down on the sink instead and realized with slight alarm that there was no sink as well. Determined, I lined my shower stuff up on the toilet tank, peeled off my funky clothing, and turned on the shower. 

A soft trickle of clear, scent-free water came down and flowed directly onto and into the toilet. This soft trickle was powerful enough to knock the shampoo and conditioner off the toilet tank and onto the floor, squashing my baby toe in the process. It also managed to knock my toothbrush directly into the toilet bowl. Never being much afraid of germs, I fished my toothbrush out with my bare hands and threw it in the trash can.

 I proceeded to have a decent shower, stand-straddling the toilet in a kind of ‘exotic dancer riding a porcelain horse’ stance. It was only when I was finger brushing my teeth that I remembered where my hand had just been.

I was still under the impression that I had moved into a large sauna, but I managed to make it feel a little more welcoming. The row house only had one slated window in the front wall. The glass was cloudy and I couldn’t be sure if it was by dirt or design, but it effectively obscured my view of looking out and any curious passerby’s view of looking in. This gave me the freedom to create my own little nudist sauna. I pranced around naked, hot and happy. I tacked a few pictures from home onto the wall. It was the usual photographic documentary of best friends, parents, my younger brother, and the family dog.

 Staring at the wall of ‘people of who love me’ I realized the small absurdity of moving so far away from such a wonderful support group, but I was seeking adventure and all the wonderful and fabulous things that I was sure Thailand had in store for me. 

My new exotic life in a new exotic location.

As I sat in front of the fan, set to the highest speed, it dawned on me that this shabby, sinkless row house was my new life. I decided to take a nap.

Don't worry, the ass hose saga cometh.....

                 

Fragrant, Twitchy and Tongue Tied.

I'm on the highway to......

                                                                    

The 30 minute car ride to my new apartment was a blur.  I tried to focus on making a good impression while stealing glances out the window in order to begin absorbing my new surroundings. It was a lot flatter than I expected, resembling faintly the horizon view of my prairie hometown, except the colors were different. It was a blanketed color of lush, rich green. Where there were fields of wheat or canola back home adding hues of golden yellow, there was only green palm tree fronds, green rubber tree leaves, and covering the earth was thick green vegetation that I imagined was full of snakes and giant scorpions.
This bright green was only dulled by a few streaks of brown. A dead palm frond here, couple tree trunks there.
 Occasionally, there was a shock of red earth. The wind gently lifted the red dust and it mixed in with a transparent heat wave shimmer which danced over and around anything stationary. 
 I suddenly realized that my new boss was speaking and turned my gaze to him just as he said, “So, that is about eighteen hours.”

Confused I apologized, “Sorry, I missed the first bit. Eighteen hours of what?”

I saw a quick flash of doubt enter his eyes. “I was explaining that you will be teaching eighteen hours a week.”

 I made a quick, lame joke about how, when you are used to forty hours a week, eighteen must feel like a walk in the park. A flicker of mischievous humor crossed his lip as he replied “Yes, pretty much a walk in the park. Except it is over 35’C in this particular park.”

I held my arms closer to my body, so my fashionable sweat stains were less noticeable, and attempted a fearless laugh, but I was pretty sure he could smell my fear just as easily as he could smell my traveler’s perfume.

The car grew silent for a while and I was free to study Thailand from the car window. I felt a bit as if I was visiting a giant aquarium. From the safe bubble of the car I felt comfortable, unchanged, as if I had walked into the largest attraction at the aquarium but would soon step out on the other side into the daylight of the town I knew.

After all, I was sitting in a lovely, clean, four door sedan, listening to Sigur Ros and had just finished having an English conversation. The only thing throwing off this illusion of 'things as normal' inside the car was the fact that the steering wheel was on the wrong side. This was causing me to have irrepressible spasms each time I saw a large pickup truck hurtling towards us from what seemed to be the wrong side of the road.
Also, I was trying desperately to hide my urge to constantly kick at the ghost brake pedal, but despite my efforts, my new boss seemed to notice the twitching and gave me a sidelong glance that was mixed with both pity and trepidation.

 He was being a gracious new boss, offering his knowledge of Thailand and trying to get to know his new employee. I imagined him going home to his wife and her asking about the new girl. ‘What’s she like?’  Fragrant, twitchy and tongue tied would surely be his response.
.I jumped out of this daydream just as we turned off the major road and into a narrow alley.                   

Apparently, I was home.

Thank god he didn't pick me up in this.
(also thank god the guy in this pic was not him.)