Why not go out on a limb? - June 13, 2007

Plane tickets to Austria just went up three hundred dollars over night. I could kill someone. Not really, but still, I feel sick about it. I knew I shouldn’t have waited, but Rudi – the one getting married - didn’t respond to me soon enough with the “a-ok” and the computers at work yesterday wouldn’t load the payment page properly. Maybe if I hold out a bit longer a deal will present itself. See, I’m supposed to go to Europe for Rudi’s wedding. I know what you’re all thinking, Why are you going to Europe when you’re in Asia for a year…Shouldn’t you be exploring Asia? And yes, it is damn expensive, but you see, I made a promise a long time ago to Rudi. Plus there’s another pull that I’ll get to in a minute. Rudi – if you make your way back to the earliest postings on this blog – is a good friend (whom some refer to as the Austrian Kenny G.) that I made in Australia while on a trip comprised of international students traveling along the eastern cost. It was “the east coast odyssey”, though much less an odyssey than per se a romp of sorts. Beyond the majority of Americans, there were three Europeans on the trip: Rudi, Daniel, and Jonathan. Jonathan has pretty much left the picture since becoming a father back in Denmark. Who would have ever thought a child shakes up your priorities? As for Daniel, the Swede, I can’t get him out of my life. He obsessively stalks me everyday on Skype and Gmail chat, seemingly in this for the long haul. Daniel will also be making his way to the wedding in Austria, thus making it a reunion of sorts. We better not have to share a bed.
The other deciding factor in this European sojourn is that my dearest Emily will be in Europe around the same time, so I’ll be joining up with her in Rome after the wedding festivities wind down. She will be traveling around Italy for three weeks with her friend Patrice, so I’m quite psyched about the prospect of jumping her bones, ahem, I mean licking her face, ahem, I mean spending some seriously quality time with her for about five days.
I had to find subs for all my classes and was particularly nervous about running the whole charade by my boss, but she just put it matter-of-factly:
“A few years ago we had an American teacher. His name was Alex. Alex went back to the States for the December holidays and promised us he had found a sub. After the December holidays, several students came and complained that no teacher had shown up for class and so they had missed out on a week of studies. So we fired Alex. We also fired Miguel, the one who was supposed to sub for Alex.” Point taken. I’m actually at the middle school right now having finished up with my daily dose of 7th graders. Thankfully, my last class after lunch was serendipitously cancelled due to some sort of assembly. Still, that didn’t stop the last class before lunch from ruining my day. The first three hours were fine, but I was ready to murder the last class. I decided to test out having a quote of the day, though I should’ve known in advance that metaphors would be lost upon such little buggers. Today’s quote was by Will Rogers and went as follows (try not to laugh): “Why not go out on a limb? That’s where the fruit is.” So after first hour met me with universal faces of incredulity, for the subsequent periods I added a visual aid for clarification. I drew an incredibly lame tree to illustrate a “limb” and defined the word “risk” for them. You know, because going out on a limb is like taking a risk, right? Anyway, I also drew some fruit hanging from one of the tree limbs and captioned it “this could turn out to be the best fruit ever”. Then I pantomimed for the class what it meant to go out on a limb by awkwardly simulating climbing out on a tree branch. If that wasn’t enough, I further explained that the risk of going out on a limb was that there existed no such guarantee of not falling or the fruit being delicious, but that if they didn’t try, they’d never know. Still, after all this hand-holding, in the initial 15 minutes I’d allotted, most of the students hadn’t even managed to copy down the quote. So I made my way around the room and worked with various kids on an individual basis. “Write down something” I said. “Anything! Don’t worry about drawing the tree, I just put that up there to help you. I want you to tell me what you think this quote means in real life. What does it mean to not know if you don’t try? What are some things that could be considered ‘going out on a limb?’” So after another 10 minutes, as I made my way around the room, everybody was still fixated on drawing their trees. I was infuriated. “FORGET ABOUT THE TREE” I screamed while erasing the tree off the board. “I swear to God, if another one of you keeps drawing that tree, I’m gonna strangle you. Write, don’t draw. Got it?”
I gave them one last chance. Ten minutes later, everyone was still drawing the tree. I hate 4th hour. The other classes might not have been brilliant, but at least they didn’t fixate on the tree. My favorite interpretation of the quote came from a meek girl in 2nd hour. She said, “The fruit is too sweet and a monkey will come eat it.”

Back home, my Dad is supposedly getting 1-2 phone calls a day from people interested in buying my car. He’s been having more success than I did when I tried, though my best effort consisted of a small ad hoc sign in the window facing away from the street. Still, as soon as people hear the price, they take off for the hills. How can people think that a 2004 Mazda 3 in perfect condition is gonna go for under 10g’s. They must be smoking crack.

2 HOURS LATER

It’s official: I’m going to Europe. I found a decent flight on Turkish Airlines flying into Vienna on July 12 and leaving out of Rome on July 20. There was a flight leaving on the 19th for $45 cheaper with only a two hour layover in Istanbul as opposed to the nine I’ll be forced to endure, but I figured it was worth it for one more night with my lady; but a small price to pay for love.

Bad sleeps, the ants, Mark's in the hospital - Saturday, June 9th

I woke up early this morning, maybe because I've been waking up every morning at 6:45am, or maybe because I had to pee intensely. Needless to say, I forced myself back to sleep and awoke around 11:30am to find 3 missed calls from Leah, who's staying at the guest house, completely unsure about what to do, and has probably been up since 6am due to the jetlag. Leah is the latest member of PiA to arrive in Chiang Mai.
I want to eat a bowl of my coco-pops (coco crispies) right now, but I don't have any milk and I'm too lazy to walk downstairs to the 7-11 next door and buy some. There are all these ants crawling around my room now I think because I left out my spoon with some yogurt crusted on it for a day, but I can't figure out for the life of me where they're coming from. This one-by-one slaughter that I've been carrying out isn't the most effective.
Just a few minutes ago I got off the phone with Mark, who called me from the hospital to let me know they're refusing to release him until his insurance info is cleared up. He might just end up walking out on his own very soon if they don't let him out. To offer some background, Mark - one of the other Farang CMU faculty members from Coe College in Iowa, who looks strikingly similar to actor/comedian Brian Posehn - suffered food poisoning from eating at the very same Mexican restaurant I ate at with him (along with 10 other people) the other night, though he's the only one who got sick. He talked my ear off for about 36 minutes straight, probably because he's been so deprived of social interaction.
"And so in 'The Commitment' by Dan Savage" he went on, "They go to British Columbia to get married, just symbolically at least. They're not from British Columbia, and it's not even legal there, but then, I have to go. Bye"
Without warning, after blabbering for those 36 minutes, he hung up on me. I assumed it was because someone had entered his room offering hope of a timely discharge. There really was a God and I had been saved from Mark's desperate chattiness...And then he called me back five minutes later and went on for another 36 minutes. (note: Mark, if you're reading this, I like talking to you. Don't get the wrong idea. You're a beautiful person, even if you look like the mailguy from Just Shoot Me).

Vaccines, 90 cent medical exams, & monstrous 7th graders – June 7th

I got the vaccination for Japanese Encephalitis (JE) the other day at the hospital. It’s a 2-shot vaccine, so I have to go back in another week. The hospital was fairly nice and not half as ghetto as I was probably expecting, though the waiting rooms seemed to be a little packed. Maybe they’re like that back in the states and I’ve just never noticed, probably because when you go to get a shot you don’t mingle amongst the people with eye patches and gauzed heads. Back in the states, the vaccination costs something just shy of $400. Over here it’s something like $15 in total, plus it doesn’t have any of the risky side effects that the vaccination carries over in the States. Kind of ironic that my parents had me get vaccinized for Rabies, but not JE, which actually seems to be the much greater risk over here. Even though most of the everyday people I encounter in Chiang Mai have never even heard of JE, the doctor at the hospital who I spoke with was quite aware of its seriousness and 100% recommended the shots. After I get the next shot, I can go and camp out in rural Thailand, naked under the stars and free of mosquito repellent. That’s actually probably not the smartest idea because I still have to worry about other mosquito-borne diseases like Dengue Fever, not to mention that mosquito bites suck in general, but it’s still fun to think about.
Continuing on in the realm of hospitals and doctors, I recently had to get a medical certificate proving that I’m healthy in order to obtain a work permit and the doctor’s checkup cost me 90 cents. All they really did was take my blood pressure and fill out some forms.
“Are you healthy?” the doctor asked.
“I think so.” I responded.
“You look healthy" he said with a big smile. "Have a good day.”
And that was that.

On other fronts, I had my first teaching experience with the 7th graders yesterday. After being introduced to the entire student body during an early morning assembly, I’m pretty sure it’s not too much of an exaggeration to say that life went downhill from there. It was grueling. Teaching five hours of the same class to completely out of control 12 year old kids is kind of like being Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day (only without the devious perks). You have to do the same thing over and over again, all the while being forced to maintain some semblance of interest in a class full of kids who talk at the top of their lungs except when they’re called on and then they turn into little church mice.

Flashback to yesterday while in the thick of it all…
Oh my God, I’m really teaching middle school monsters. They’re infinitely more rambunctious than the middle-schoolers I remember back in the states and the furthest cry from the stone-faced university students. I futilely tried to lay some discipline foundations at the beginning of class because I was told it’s better to start off firm and then lax up as the semester progresses and not the other way around. I’m not sure if my “Hey, everybody, be quiet and don’t speak when I speak” qualifies as starting off firm, as I continuously have to “shh” them and talk really loud, not to mention it’s only 25 minutes into my first class. I’m actually writing this in the middle of class while they work on an activity in pairs interviewing one another about their English nickname, number of siblings, hobbies, and what they would do with 10 million baht (editors note: not surprisingly, everyone wanted a new house and car, though one random kid did say he would burn it).
I just tried to end the activity and nobody’s paying attention to me. This one runt toward the front of the class refuses to stay put in his seat. Is it permissible to choke kids in Thailand? I wonder to myself.

Afterthoughts: While I singled out several kids in semi-failed attempts to elicit participation from the class, I’m pretty sure I accidentally picked on the only autistic kid in the whole school. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that I had no idea.
Another kid randomly came up to me after class, an incredibly small, young looking boy with thick glasses and a face somewhat reminiscent of a simple person. He inexplicably took my arm and began holding and gently caressing it. His initial hello was all I could make out. And then I blacked out.

First Day of School - June 4th

Today was the day I became the man I was born to be. Eh, a tad bit of an exaggeration. It was my first day of teaching and I had one class. For some inexplicable reason, I teach one class on Monday and Thursday, and three classes on Tuesday and Friday, plus the 5 hours straight of 7th graders on Wednesday. This morning it was English 203 for second year university students. I’d been warned they would be a tough crowd, and so sure enough, I felt like a stand-up comedian that was flopping for the first half of class. Everyone just sat stone-faced as I tried to elicit class participation in going over the syllabus. I’m pretty sure nobody understood 98% of what I was saying, but then we played a spur-of-the-moment ice breaker that involved each of the 25 students selecting an English nickname and writing down one thing that they really enjoy. Turns out I have Mickey and Minnie in my class, and they respectively enjoy playing on the computer and traveling. Turns out the class also contains a “Winnie” and some guy that prefers to be called “arm chair”. This one flamboyant boy – who dramatically gushed when he saw that I was his teacher upon first walking in – selected “Elizabeth” as his nickname, much to the chagrin of everybody else.
The weirdest part about today is that while I know I came over here to teach, it never really sunk in that I was “actually” going to be teaching. Somehow I had gotten the impression that people who go over to Asia to teach just walk around saying they’re a teacher without having to do anything. Whoever thought that I’d actually be placed in a classroom standing before 30 some-odd bloodthirsty Thai university students? (They’re actually the most silent and polite people I’ve ever encountered, at least so far) Whoever thought that I’d be an actual lecturer? Whoever thought, whoever thought, whoever thought…

Chiang Mai: The Legend Continues, June 3, 2007

Maybe because my intake of sugar cereals was so strictly moderated as a youth, but it still brings back a forbidden pleasure as I sit here eating a bowl of Thai-version coco crispies. In addition to the coco crispies, my room is also stocked with Mayo, chili beans, cream of potato soup, breakfast bars, tuna, and Mi Goreng instant noodles chock full of msg. I was able to obtain all these things at the farang supermarket, where my buddy Kati was kind enough to bring me. She’s actually been carting my bum all over town this past week, and while she pretends to think I’m crazy, I know that in her heart she has a soft spot for me. Kati’s age is impossible to gauge, so I had to resort to other measures in figuring out that she’s 32 (she’ll kill me if she ever sees this). She ages incredibly well being that she looks like a 15 year old, as do many of the other Thais that I have befriended (age well, that is, not look like 15 year olds). Kati also has a strange preoccupation with Winnie the Pooh as evidenced by her Pooh phone case and Pooh stuffed animal in the back of her car.

I asked Kati about products in the US that say “made in Thailand” and whether those items are manufactured in sweat shops. She said that those factories have perfectly decent conditions. What I’ve come to discover is that Thailand is fairly well developed and not as dirty as one might think. It’s Indonesia that’s more sketch according to Kati as she deterred me from buying the Tim Tam’s manufactured in Australia’s next door neighbor. “I don’t trust things made in Indonesia” she said.

I start teaching class on Monday. In addition to the 2 courses (2 sections each, so four in total) that I’ll be handling at the university, I picked up 5 hours of teaching 7th graders every Wednesday. Word on the street is that I’m gonna have more than my hands full with the 7th graders, but the people at the Junior High thought I’d be a good fit being that I can match the energy level of any 7th grader they throw my way.

Some random nonsense: In the Thai version of Wal-mart, twice a day the Thai national anthem comes on over the loudspeaker and everybody stops what they’re doing for the song’s duration.

Touristy leftovers from Bangkok

Chiang Mai: translating and transportation, warmness and newfound credibility - May 29, 2007

I get Al-Jazeera in my room, along with MTV Asia. I should be set for life now. Maybe I should offer some context: I got an apartment in Chiang Mai after only my second day being here. Thomas and I meandered on over the measly 3.5km through sauna-like weather to the university yesterday and met up with Song-Si, Chiang Mai University’s (CMU) foreign relations liaison. After signing some papers and hearing various faculty vent about the atrociousness of last year’s PIA fellow, we jumped into Song-Si’s car for a ride. It was nice to finally have a friend in a new city, not only for translating and transportation, but warmness and some sense of newfound credibility over the other hillbilly travelers. We didn’t drive very far before Song-Si made the mistake of partially driving off a curb high enough to deal her car some significant damage. Luckily some nice people from the nearby Mr. Car came by and helped us push her car out of danger.
And so we arrived at one of the nicest apartments in town. 18,000 baht later for a down payment and it was mine.
My apartment is in the ritzy western district of Chiang Mai, and while it lacks a gym, there’s a Powerhouse directly behind it (ironically much fancier and more expensive than the one back home, though lacking dumbbells heavier than 75lbs) and a Starbucks across the street.
Thomas and I attended our first Muay Thai fight last night in which two 7 year old kids viciously went at it to kick off the lineup that included various mismatches and an international headliner featuring an Irishman and a Thai. I took some flack from an Irishman sitting next to me for cheering in favor of the Thai even though the Irishman in the ring held a significant size advantage and I had just been informed that every match-up between a westerner and a Thai always seems to be rigged in favor of the westerner.
“How can you be rooting for the Thai?” the Gallic inquired.
“You said it yourself, it seems every match-up is rigged for the Westerner” I put in my two cents. “Not to mention the fact that westerners have been coming over to this part of the world and exerting their dominance for too long: it’s time for the Thai to rise up.”
“Isn’t that what you want to do, though? You said it yourself you want to do Muay Thai. Don’t you want to get into the ring, fight them, and win?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”
“And another thing" he continued. "You shouldn’t be rooting for the westerner because he’s a westerner: you should be rooting for him because he’s Irish.”

Siam, shopping without buying, Chinatown, and Khao San

Tonight I figured out that my laptop plugs into the outlets just fine and I don't need an adaptor or converter for Thailand (editors note: this later proved to be false for electronics without internal converters as I discovered by instantly blowing out my alarm clock). So I'm on my laptop right now stealing wireless from Asha guest house after sneaking the password from another guest earlier today.
This morning we slept in until almost 11 despite being awoken several times with a start throughout the morning by someone shouting on a loudspeaker, bizarre music, and what sounded like gunshots. After some dallying around, we headed out for Siam Square. The day was basically a shopping extravaganza, except I didn’t really buy anything. Ironic, I know. We started off at what seemed like the ritziest mall in Southeast Asia - the legit one with Dolce & Gabanna, Gucci, Versace, and a fancy aquarium (which we didn't enter because it cost $8). After Siam Square, we made our way over to the MBK: this other gigantic shopping center filled with all the fake stuff (which wasn't as cheap as one would think). The only thing I wound up getting was a fake light blue polo for about $5, though some random guy told us that wit the guys’ fake polos, the colors wash out after putting it in the laundry. Thomas said I could've haggled him more, but I'm not into this whole haggling thing (editors note: I’ve actually become quite good at haggling in the week since). I wasn’t particularly impressed with the MBK.
I'm actually quite hungry at the moment. Oddly enough, I haven’t been finding the right places to eat in Bangkok. Maybe it’s because most of the best food comes from the street vendors, which I’ve been warned to avoid for hygienic reasons. Today all I had was some cereal and fruit in the morning, a little bit of sushi, a smoothie, and an overpriced plate of noodles at the most expensive joint in all of Bangkok’s Chinatown. If Bangkok's crazy, Chinatown in Bangkok is even crazier (and nobody even speaks Chinese). It was crazy and congested; lined with vats of boiling oil that could pour onto you at any moment while traversing the sidewalk. It’s also noteworthy that there are no traffic lights in Bangkok - except for maybe about two which countdown from 60 and nobody heeds anyway - so crossing the street is the biggest bitch the world has ever known. It's a horrifying experience. In this city, street names and maps go out the window. Not only is trying to cross the street or find places nerve-wracking, but so is riding in a taxi, not just a tuk tuk. In both cases you could die at any moment. The driving lanes are also sizably smaller than in America.
In Chinatown, we couldn't find the restaurant we were looking for recommended by the Lonely Planet that I stole from the guest house (on the cover of which the “Thai” part in Thailand is crossed out and inexplicably now reads "Fakeland"). While walking around we noticed that there are very few actual restaurants in Chinatown, but instead street food stalls (and remember what I said about street stalls, though Thomas has been partaking and so far encountered no problems). That's what everyone does, though, and that's where all the good food supposedly lies. I couldn’t cave, and so we walked all over and couldn't decide on anything, eventually settling on the most expensive and fancy place in town. Thomas and I both ordered the cheapest dish – it was like $6, whereas everything else on the street was basically less than $1. At least I got to do a number two in the only nice bathroom in Bangkok’s Chinatown, and we were on our way in our first Tuk Tuk. A tuk tuk is one of those auto-rickshaws; basically the world’s most dangerous taxi. You have to haggle them with prices and a lot of times they don't take you where you want to go, but rather to shopping places that pay the tuk tuk drivers a kickback for customers. Tuks Tuks are smaller than cars and ride almost like motor bikes, so they weave in and out of traffic like you wouldn't believe. This particular ride was crazier than any roller coaster, especially because our driver was young, dumb, and full of ___. They're cheaper than taxis, but you also breathe in all of the pollution and can fall out during a sharp turn. Miraculously we made it to our next destination in one piece: Khao San road. One word: overrated. Thomas chose 'dodgy'. As it turns out, that's where all the (mostly dreadlocked) westerners reside along with a bevy of Thai youth and some very strange characters indeed (most of them trying to sell you bootleg stuff like TEFL certificates, licenses, and various other documents). Kind of strange that a lot of the people who visit Bangkok and stay on Khao San don’t really venture beyond the strip until heading off to the idyllic beaches. At least they get to witness the bizarre Thai man making animal sounds who reveals his secret trick if you’re willing to shell out 25baht.
I guess Khao San is one of those places you gotta check out for yourself, but it’s just not like what you’ve imagined all those years. The same thing goes for Patpong and the notorious ping pong shows, but we won’t go there (at least in this blog). Once again, I’ll just say this: overrated.

I've never sweat like this in my life - May 24, 2007

Right now I'm absolutely exhausted even though it's only 8:22pm - the jet lag is hitting hard I guess, not to mention that we walked all around Bangkok. I must admit, the Bangkok of my imagination was considerably cooler and more exotic than the Bangkok of reality. It doesn't really feel like I'm in Thailand, maybe because I've held all these preconceived notions of what it ought to be like for so long. Still, it remains incredibly hot. I've never sweat like this in my life. Last night's sleep was incredibly bizarre - the bed was stiff as a board, and yes, you guessed it, the room was filthy hot. Thomas got in around 12:30am right after I had passed out, so that kind of threw things for a loop and I couldn't really get back to sleep. We talked for a while and the last time I remember looking at the clock, it was around 2:30am. Being that our biological clocks are all fucked up, we awoke around 7 - actually, Thomas awoke around 7, inadvertently woke me up with his noise and I couldn't get back to sleep. We made our way into the city after a short walk to the skytrain that took us to a ferry taxi that carried us up the river to our destination: the temples of What Po and the King's Palace. Both were incredibly extravagant and rococo. I took plenty of pictures and video footage so you'll basically get to share in the entire experience minus the pollution, annoying impostors trying to hustle you every step of the way, and the excruciating amount of roundabout walking that we endured. We also indulged in the famous Thai massage at the hands of the renowned masseuse's of What Po. Now hold on, hold on. Before you get all bent outta shape - THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING SEXUAL ABOUT IT (if you don't count the bizarre butt rubbing part). My masseuse was not at all attractive and it was at a legitimate joint where I received the massage in an open room alongside all the other people getting one as well. And to tell you the truth, in spite of the fact that she did some nifty things I'd never seen before, she hurt me like a motherfucker and at times it felt like she was doing some Chinese pressure point torture instead of a massage. It also weirded me out a bit that she started things off by massaging my dirty feet and finished with using those same un-washed fingers on my face and head. Needless to say, I'm gonna have some nasty pimples and sore ass muscles in the morning. We got back to our side of town not too long ago and I must admit: I sold out. I ate Pizza Hut for dinner, which costs more than triple any Thai meal you can get. Strangely enough, it turned out to taste exactly like the pizza hut I've come to know and love. The reason I got it is that so far, the Thai meals just aren't cuttin' it - each prior meal has left me hungry and unsatisfied. My attempt at being vegetarian hasn't worked out so well either as the menus have proved challenging. As for money, while Thailand is much cheaper than America, I've still managed to drop almost $60 in two days (including Taxi, meals, 10 bottles of water, hostel, etc.) Speaking of cheapness, Thomas and I met this asshole earlier in the day - a pompous/contemptuous nerdy traveler from California - who tried to haggle an old lady vendor selling him a chicken breast down from 25baht to 20baht when for him that would be a difference of 20 cents and for her a difference of survival (maybe that's a tad bit dramatic, but still). In the end, he refused to settle for the 5baht difference and walked away. It was some petty shit and I hope that I don't ever turn into that.
Thomas and I were planning on heading out to the notorious Khao San road - if you remember from "The Beach", it's the place where travelers convene to party like rockstars and exchange the kind of travel secrets you can't find in books - but we're not going anywhere. Pretty much after I write this I'm heading off to bed. Today was a long day.

On a tangential note, I've learned to count to 100 in Thai.

Broccoli & Carrots: First Night in Thailand - May 23, 2007

It's about 8am back in the states right now and 7pm here in Bangkok. The plane ride wasn't bad at all as Thai Airlines turned out to be nifty and I managed to sleep most of the flight (about 14 hours). I tried watching "Night at the Museum" with Ben Stiller, though it couldn't hold my attention and so I turned it off halfway through. I thought it'd be a shrewd move arranging for a vegetarian meal on the flight, but I wound up kind of regretting it when it turned out to be just vegetables (broccoli and carrots) and the guy next to me was indulging in salmon and filet mignon (there wasn't actually any filet mignon, but you understand...) The flight attendants continuously walked around offering unlimited booze, wine, and even cognac (indeed cognac) which I partook in none of. When I got off the plane, customs was a cinch and I retrieved my bags without hassle. I was out in two seconds flat before facing a bombardment of shady taxi cabbies and fake information people. Somehow I made my way to the legit taxi services, finding a ride for 400baht to take me into the city (later I found out I'd been overcharged by about 50baht and the cabbie never even turned on the meter, but being that 33baht = 1dollar, it wasn't too bad considering it was over an hour ride). Let me say, I went from one traffic clusterfuck in NYC to another traffic clusterfuck in Bangkok. Thank God I don't have to drive. To offer a humorous anecdote, I accidentally tried to get into the drivers seat in the taxi after forgetting that they drive on the opposite side of the road here. Now I'm at a guest house/hostel somehwhere in the city not too far away from the thick of things (Phayathai to be exact). Bangkok appears to lack a definitive center. The area actually seemed kind of like a slum at first while driving in - there were all sorts of stray dogs running around (which made me grateful I got my rabies shots) and these kids playing some sort of hybrid game between hacky sack and volleyball. It's pretty damn hot/humid now (about 90 degrees) and you can forget about AC. I should probably change into shorts or something. Ironic that I was wearing a hoodie while deboarding the plane. Right now I'm just hanging out at the restaurant/pool/bar/internet area of the hostel while waiting for Thomas to get here in a few hours.

"Why are you going all the way over there?"

A typical conversation with the women at the office...

"So where you going again, China?"
"Close. Thailand."
"Now why would you wanna go there? Is that just cause you couldn't find a teaching job here that you gotta go all the way over there? I knew the economy was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad."
"Nah. That's not why I'm going over there. I'm going there because this is the opportunity of a lifetime."
"Is that what you wanna be in life, a teacher? I mean is that what you went to college for?"
"No."
"Well you be careful, watch out for all those drugs and men dressed as women. They got a lot of that stuff over there."

And then they proceed to ask me about my brother who worked here for a few months before fleeing to a zen center completely isolated from the world, neatly nestled in the mountains 16 miles outside of Carmel Valley, CA. It's called Tassajara and can only be reached by a dirt road that is rendered impassable every so often when heavy rains wash it out. You can't call Tassajara either, but rather an operator service in Carmel Valley (remember, 16 miles away) takes down a message and then someone from the zen center has to come and pick it up. The irony is that the inhabitors of Tassajara can make outgoing calls via a satellite phone with a one second delay, but that can prove to be quite annoying if delayed laughter and soporific pacing aren't exactly your style. I'm exaggerating, it's not really that bad. And for your information, my brother is doing quite well, thank you very much...you don't have to ask every single day. Nothing really new happens when you're living in a zen center. It's kind of like living in a retirement home, the only thing that changes is the winning numbers for bingo. Lane's big news for the month is that he now gets to be a bread baker in addition to a dishwasher extraordinaire. He sure is moving up in the world. :)

Dukes in Durham - April 25, 2007

If I were in a band, we'd be called "Dukes in Durham". And if I had access to a filesharing program and a cd burner, this is the mix cd that I'd burn:

The Divorce – Yes
Greg Laswell – Amazed
Camera Obscura – I Don’t Do Crowds
Rogue Wave – Be Kind – Remind
Akron/Family – Shoes
Of Montreal – Bunny Ain’t No Kind of Rider
Fleetwood Mack – Never Going Back Again
Chris Garneau – Baby’s Romance
The Finches – Last Favor
Loney, Dear – I Am John
Page France – Windy

And, if I continue to write anymore right now, I'm gonna be a dead man. It's 8pm and I've now been at BRL Billing for 12 hours trying to rack up as much overtime as I can before departing.

$617 to Bangkok - 4/20 (snickering)

Oh man, oh man...I just bought my one-way airline ticket to Thailand after procrastinating for weeks now. Over the past few days, the cheapest flights I'd been able to find were for around $760, but then this morning I stumbled onto one for $617 and pounced on it without reading any of the fine print, so let's hope that I'm not $617 the poorer without ending up in Bangkok. The flight is through Thai Airlines and also happens to be non-stop. I wonder if 17 hours and 10 minutes continuous on an airplane will turn me into a vegetable. Speaking of vegetables, I put in a request for a vegetarian Asian meal just to be safe.

Princeton again, streaking, PB&J, and bribing a Mexican guard - 4/13/07

So I'm back in Princeton again, this time for my TEFL (teaching english as a foreign language) certification. I left at 6:20am this morning with Thomas, another kid in the program who happens to attend U-M, and we made it here in 9.5 hours. Thomas is from East Lansing, speaks 4 languages, once drove to Montana by himself in a straight shot so he could go hiking for a week, and a few years back went streaking through a lecture hall at Michigan State during an organic chemistry exam with two of his friends wearing nothing but a wool hat and a bandana covering his lower face. He was also nice enough to pack us PB&J sandwhiches along with some home made cheese bread with squash on top and a bunch of fresh fruit.
Anyway, like last time, I'm in the library again killing time before our class begins at 6:30. I think Thomas and I are gonna go crash on some couches like vagabonds to recharge before the action begins.
In other news, I failed to mention that a few weeks back Emily and I took a trip down to Florida so she could visit the University of Miami. We stayed in Ft. Lauderdale with my Aunt Roberta, where one morning the climax of our trip occurred when Emily got lost running in the identical looking subdivisions. She had to bribe a Mexican guard in order to use his cell phone and call me. After accidentally hanging up on her the first time and some miscommunication about which subdivision she was lost in, we were reunited and she wasn't very happy. That's all for now, I'm off to nap.

April 2007 - Congratulations

Dear Jared,

We are so pleased to be able to send you to a place we think is a good fit. So this is it! The official email that says Congratulations - you have been offered a post with PiA for next year. I am really excited to be able to tell you this and as we discussed we have you earmarked for the position as a lecturer at Chiang Mai University in Chiang Mai, Thailand. We are sure you could do a great job anywhere, but the post in Chiang Mai came up as the first choice!

Princeton in Asia

So the cosmos aligned in my favor and through some weird stroke of luck, I'm going to Thailand this May for at least a year to teach English and become a Muay Thai champion (though I've been warned about the prevalence of HIV in the country, so blood transfusions might pose a slight problem). There you have it, I'm off to the land of hot trannies and happy-ending massages (note: that's what anthropology majors call exoticizing the other).

My First Jiu-Jitsu Tournament - Feb. 24, 2007

I took 4th out of 16 (though I was ahead 7-0 on points in the 3rd place match before sort of giving up).

Can you say "JARED'S GOT A NEW MUSIC VIDEO"...

http://www.ifilm.com/video/2823916

1/19/2007 - Afterthoughts in the afterlife

So my interviews with Princeton in Asia went well and I think I probably got the gig. I'll either wind up in Chiang Mai, Thailand, or Penang, Malaysia (familiar to some people as the setting for that Vince Vaughn film, Return to Paradise). Anyway, if I am accepted, it will be a tough choice. Penang has amazing weather, a fabulous beach, sweet accomodation, and better pay. Chiang Mai meanwhile is a significantly more bumpin' city inundated with vespas, Muay Thai, and happy-ending massages. I'm still waiting to hear back from the JET program in Japan, though, so that might be an option as well.
After I returned to NYC, I made my way back to Yonkers for a brief interlude with cousin Greg before going out with Mike and his girlfriend for the evening (and by going out I mean that we never made it out of her 4 x 5 ft apartment except for a 35 minute roundtrip trek to a club with a cover charge well beyond our means so we turned around and left). Anyway, when I got to Greg's apartment, I found him sitting on the couch engrossed in the playoff game between the Colts and Ravens on tv. The best part is that he had a Colts' baseball cap and a Ravens' baseball cap placed on the table facing off in front of him.
"Greg...are you serious?" I began. "There's no one else around to even witness your spirit"
"Whatever Jared. Just because you wake up in the morning and no one else is around doesn't mean that you sit around naked all day. Right?"

He had a point.

1/13/2007 - NYC & Princeton

So I'm in Princeton, NJ, right now killing some time at their university library before I head in for my interview to see if I'm good enough to qualify as an international fellow. Funny, I already thought I was an international fellow being that I've been around the world a little bit. Anyway, I don't know what to make of this campus. I'll tell you one thing, it really sucks when you have to poop while traveling, because it never seems like there's an available place to go when you need one, especially on a college campus, so I always tend to search out the closest library wherever I'm at and seek refuge there. I had quite a time just getting to Princeton to New York. I almost got on the wrong subway back in the city, wasted a ticket, barely made the train out of NYC, and then didn't have time to buy a ticket before boarding a $2 shuttle to the campus and therefore had to pay an extra $5 for purchasing it after already boarding the shuttle. I stood in the pseudo-light-sun showers after deboarding the train getting my bearings for a moment and debating whether or not I was feeling intimidated being amidst an ivy league campus. Being the overcompensator that I am, I just decided to start being ultra critical of everyone I passed instead. I flew into NYC on Thursday afternoon and hung out with my cousin Greg. He's a 33 year old big kid who never really matured beyond his college goofball self, and together we went to one of the top 5 largest malls in America just outside of Yonkers. That night we watched "Fearless" with Jet Li and practiced our Chinenglish (kind of like Spanglish, except that neither of us really speak any Chinese, though Greg did study Mandarin for a bit and lived in Singapore for several years among many other countries - he truly is an international fellow). Yesterday I met up with my friend Mike who recently graduated from NYU film school and works freelancing as an erotic fiction writer for magazines such as Penthouse in addition to serving as a production assistant on various music video and other types of film shoots. I killed the rest of the afternoon at the Borders right next to Madison Square Garden perusing through a GRE study book and researching my potential trip to Puerto Rico with Emily at the end of February.

New Year's Eve in Chicago - The End of 2006

Max at least provided some amusement by putting a gigantic hole in the wall of the Marriott Hotel stairwell after attempting to save Emily’s friend, Jen, from taking a disastrous spill herself. Jen, the girl we stayed with during the weekend, had quite the New Year’s Eve. She got a bit too drunk and then had the genius idea to smoke hash, leaving her in a bad state puking all over Emily’s friend, Calvin’s room at the Marriott. Jen had no qualms about pulling the trigger several times in attempting to aid her puking process, and she did it with a relative ease and familiarity that sent off warning signals in the head of her friend and fellow cast-mate in the off-off-broadway show, Spellingbee. This friend, Christine, who happened to be high on hash herself, proceeded to freak out in believing that Jen was bulimic. The conversation went something as follows:
“Oh my god, Jen, you’re fucking bulimic. I can’t believe it. You’re fucking bulimic.” Christine screamed as tears soon began to follow. She was high, mad, sad, coupled with some other indiscernible emotions rolled into one ball of weirdness.
Emily chimed in while sitting on the bed watching the fiasco unfold. “She’s not bulimic, she’s just drunk. You need to chill out.”
Un-phased, Christine continued with tears streaming down her phase. “Jen, how can you do this to yourself? You’re fucking bulimic. I’m calling Kristin and telling her. This is a serious problem.”
Jen, not exactly functioning in top form, wags her finger at Christina. “It’ll be our secret.” She slurs. She obviously has no idea what’s going on.
“Christine, are you insane?” Emily asks. “She’s not bulimic. I’ve seen millions of girls do this before. Obviously you never went to college.”
It’s too late, though, as Christine has already begun leaving a message on Kristin’s voicemail with a firm resound that Jen is bulimic and this must be remembered in the morning after everyone sobers up.
We all split soon afterwards. Christine refused to leave with us and abandoned Jen to our devices in getting home. Getting back to Jen’s took forever being that it was New Year’s Eve and impossible to hail a taxi, so we were forced to take the “L” with Jen iron-clasped to Max’s arm and puking every step of the way. Happy New Year.
Oh, on an end note, there was this adorable little black pug named “Olive” that belonged to one of Jen’s roommates and constantly insisted on wedging itself between Emily and I while sleeping together at night on the world’s most narrow couch. Olive was adorable, but she smelled kind of bad and snored. Emily hasn’t stopped talking about wanting to get a French Bulldog for the last two days.