Dontcha put it in your mouth.......

Angels singing.....

                                      

Ring of fire. Seriously. My morning gaff of speaking too harshly with my new boss had resulted in me finishing my entire bowl of chili laced gruel as a form of apology. Now, 4 hours later, I was sitting in my heat box sauna of a bathroom alternately pooing fire water and being violated by the ass hose. It was an unpleasant way to start off my whole ‘try new things’ lifestyle.

( If new things result in fire poo, then new age folks can have them, pass the mayo and ketchup please.) 

As I sat on the toilet giving the ass hose the evil eye I realized that I would have to stay true to some of the old me. I was in this for the long haul (a YEAR at least!) and I must pace myself.  Staying strong and healthy was probably the best way to keep being able to try new things, so I decided to swear off spicy breakfast, and head to the 7-11 about a five minute walk away. My new boss had taken pity on me and told me that they had bread and banana muffins there, so I had decided to stock up.

It was hot. Not Canadian summer hot, where you are so grateful to wear a t-shirt that happiness seeps out of every pore, but Thailand hot where you are so scared to get caught in the sun, that you dash from shade spot to shade spot and sweat seeps out of every pore. The 7-11 was on the other side of the street (of course!) so I had to engage in the crossing the street warfare yet again. Luckily, I had been trained earlier that day. 

I waited for a gap in the traffic on my side of the road and bolted for the white divider line, and then I stood firmly as the cars whizzed by and I waited for another gap.  Once I had successfully reached the other side of the street I was filled with an enormous amount of pride because I had done it all alone. 

(When I was planning my trip overseas I had visions of myself mastering the Thai language, doing charity work, and generally taking Thailand by storm, but since ‘effective street crossing’ had been added to my list, I knew I would have to revise these goals.)

With the swoosh of an automatic door and a blast of air conditioning, I knew I had found heaven. The staff behind the counter greeted me with the standard, “Sawasdee Ka” and I floated toward the aisles. It seemed like a very normal 7-11. Sure, it was missing a few of the staples from back home, like nachos and good chocolate, and the chip flavors had been altered for the eastern palate, but it was like a climate controlled paradise. I grabbed a shopping basket and picked up the essentials like a new toothbrush and toilet paper, then I moved on to the fun stuff. Food shopping. 

My stomach had finally calmed down after my breakfast of spicy rice soup and I looked at the shelves of bread with a homesick longing. I carefully selected two non-offensive looking buns and placed them in my basket. I also grabbed a bottle of orange juice and some gum. I laughed again at the exotic chip flavors, ranging from Spicy Dried Squid to Nori Seaweed, and then headed for the cashier. It was such a relief to know that the prices were pre-set and I would not have to do any of the haggling that the east is so famous for.

The check out went fine. The price was clearly marked on the monitor and I merely had to hand over my money and receive my change. I managed to say thank you in Thai and received a beaming smile from the cashier.  This was the first task that I felt I had successfully conquered. I stepped back out onto the street so full of confidence and happiness that I didn’t even mind the sun. The glare suddenly seemed perfect because I felt so much brighter on the inside. 

I set off to meet my new boss at the language school, about a 10 minute walk away, and reached into my bag to pull out the glorious bun. I first took a few big chugs of orange juice and then I opened the bun from its plastic packaging and took a small, savory bite. It was a little on the sweet side, but it was heavenly bland.

 I took another big bite and felt something dry, stringy and furry in my mouth. Without caring about the other pedestrians watching the sweaty farang on her walk, I spit the furry bit out into my hand. It looked exactly as it had tasted; like dry, furry, thin, brown shoelaces. Damn it. I tossed the barely eaten bun back into my bag and heading toward the language school, no longer prancing in the sunshine, but instead darting again from shadow to shadow.

Dontcha put it in your mouth....
Dontcha stuff it in your face....
'Till you ask someone you love
If it's okay to taste.

                                    

How the farang crossed the street in Surat Thani.

Take a deep breath, close your eyes and run.
(maybe skip step 2)

                                 

Feeling grateful that I wasn’t about to die, I got dressed quickly and cheerfully started walking to the end of the alleyway, it was only 7:45 in the morning but the heat was already in full swing. I walked in the shadows of buildings as much as I could, only stepping into the sunshine to dodge the blue trash barrels where a cluster of chickens now hovered under a haze of sun-drunk flies. 

  Those trash barrels seemed to support a lot of life, flies and chickens during the day, rats and cockroaches at night and mangy dogs at all hours. I continued past the trash barrels passing two faded yellow, one story houses and an off white three story apartment complex that had many pieces of re-bar sticking out the side. I stepped even further into the shadows at the requests of a passing motorbike. The driver beeped his horn to warn me, then waved and shouted “Hey You!” as he passed.  I smiled back, unsure if I had just been reprimanded for uncouth walking etiquette or merely greeted with a Thai version of good morning. From the smile on the motorcyclists face I figured it was just a kind greeting, although it did sound quite aggressive.

The end of the alley way spilled out into the major street that my new boss and I had driven in on the day before. There was a lot of traffic, mostly motorbikes and huge pick-up trucks, which offered an interesting juxtaposition. It looked as if the pick-ups were hunting the little motorbikes, waiting for the right moment to attack and crush them.  Amongst the fast moving pick-ups and motorbikes there was also a lady in a wide straw hat, pushing a large cart filled with ice and fruit.  I recognized watermelon and pineapple but couldn’t identify anything else. The fruit lady smiled as she past me and said “Farang.” I had read about this word, used as a blanket term for most foreigners. I wasn’t sure how to respond but shouting “Thai!” back seemed a little uncouth so I just smiled at her and over her shoulder I noticed the boss's car pull over on the opposite side of the road. 

 To get to my boss's car meant I had to cross the busy street, which was even more confusing because the cars were driving on the left hand side of the road. I stepped toward the edge of the curb, shading my eyes from the sun and waiting for a break in the traffic.  There would be an opening coming from the right hand side but then the other side was always flowing steadily. A couple of times I saw a brief opening, figuring I could make it if I really ran, but in the second it took me to decide if I was going to go for it, a motorbike would shoot out from behind a slowly approaching car and force me back on to the sidewalk. 

After 5 minutes of unsuccessful attempts, which felt more like 20 because I knew my new boss was watching me from behind his tinted windows, a young man from the key making shop behind me stepped out onto the curb. He didn’t say a word, merely motioned for me to follow him as he stepped out into the street. We had an opening on our side of the street but the opposite side was still flowing with traffic. The man just walked to the middle of the road and then stopped. I stood next to him as cars, trucks and motorbikes flowed by on both sides. We stood together, in the middle of 60 km/hour traffic, my heart beating faster at every burst of wind from a passing vehicle. Then the traffic cleared on the opposite side of the road and the man motioned for me to cross.  When I had safely reached the sidewalk, I turned back to say thanks, but the man had already re-entered his key shop.

I approached what I thought was the passenger side door, only to see the tinted window roll down and my boss's smiling face. 

“You expecting to drive?” he laughed good naturedly. 

“Sorry, still getting used to all this.” I replied as I rushed to the other side. 

The air conditioner was on full blast and it felt like Freon heaven.  “You have a good sleep?” my boss politely asked.

 “Sure, the roosters were a little frustrating but I managed to catch a few hours.”  I replied. 

We drove toward the restaurant in a comfortable silence. I watched the town pass by, marveling at the amount of people that could fit on one motorbike and also at the apparent anarchy that seemed to rule the road. My new boss swore softly under his breath as a four door pick up truck cut directly in front of him, but we reached the restaurant safely and in less than 10 minutes.

 I opened the car door to a wall of heat and realized that Thailand won’t easily let you forget how far away from home you are.

                                

Heading to school.
My Dad used to drop me off in a cop car,
 pretty sure his ticket finger would constantly be twitchy in Thailand!

                                    

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!

                               

Puppy and Grizzly Poo

With me it started when my ex-boyfriend bought me puppy. I had graduated from University with an Honors English Degree. It was no surprise that that expensive piece of paper gave me no dramatic insight into which direction my life should take. So I did what many girls do..... moved in with the boyfriend. 

  He lived in the Rocky mountains. It seemed adventurous enough. Got me out of Saskatchewan (a mere one province over, but let us not be petty!) I was ready for my genuine adult life to start. Not in the dreamy way of some girls.... oh, when will he propose?.... when will my uterus become a warm mucousy den for a youngin'....... but more in the way of Adventure. I was ready for an introduction.

Instead we cooked pasta. It tasted good. I tried to fight the inertia and climbed mountains alone. That was wonderful, but I had done it before. And it still seemed too safe (except for that one time when I had to stick my finger in the Grizzly poo and found out it was still warm.. ). We started fighting. My sense of waiting for Adventure and never hearing him knock at my door was making me impossible to live with.  But I stayed. I didn't realize I was attempting to seduce adventure with subtle eye contact and bashful smiles, when what Adventure really digs is when you grab him by the hand and pull him into the bedroom. And besides the pasta tasted so good.

Then one day the boyfriend showed up with a little bundle of joy. A black lab cross with the sweetest eyes and the most endearing stumble run you ever did see. I showed it love (what kind of person can hate on a puppy?), I took it to the mountains. I jogged with the little stumble runner, but  to me it was a symbol of boring. A cute little reminder of approximately 12 years of commitment. Blarg. 

You make me happy.

Then one night I indulged in a few to many Rye and Gingers. (I was working on a new theory that Adventure was actively into courting drunk chicks). The boyfriend decided to go out and visit with a friend. I was pouting in bed in one of those ridiculous self indulgent funks that possess me from time to time. Then I heard the cute little yippy bark of the pup. Needed to go outside. I got up and did my own little stumble walk towards the front door. Then I saw the pile of cute little doggy poo. I stuck my finger in it. Cold. That means the boyfriend had actually stepped over the poo to leave and did not pick it up. 

I stood there for a while and then, with the cute little doggy poo still under my fingernail, I went to the bedroom and began packing my bags.

I made the decision. I was going to take Adventure out on a date.