Have you seen the movie Me, You, and Everyone We Know? If you haven't I suggest you go rent it tonight in order to make this funny for you. If you have seen it, then you know what this means: ))<>((
Now I swear on everything that is holy that I witnessed two dogs performing this act while visiting a hilltribe Friday in Northern Thailand. I believe that was after we stopped at a little market where we were most likely the first white people many of these children had seen. I was offered a glass of home-brewed whiskey by some of the patrons and farmers. At first I thought they were offering me water because it was clear and was being served from a reused beer bottle. I refused at first, not wanting to get a vicious spell of the backdoor blitz, but when I realized that the toothless man offering it to me reeked of alcohol, I couldn't refuse the offer anymore. It smelled like whiskey, but tasted like I imagine turpentine does.

The booze was a nice pick-me-up after our hike around the reservoir at Takhrai National Park. Reading the only available English pamphlet on the place, I informed Kate that native specimens included Deer, Gibbons and Tigers. Failing to see all three, we did run across a cattle grazer taking his dozen "water buffalo" out for a walk to drink the from the wetlands where the reservoir starts. On our trek past the him, his cattle and what I assume to be his concubine women gathering "water plant" from the banks of the river, we stumbled across his home after taking a wrong turn on the path. We eventually found a path that was obviously no longer in use, or hadn't had visitors on that section for over a year, and made it back to our perched pad where I took a nap and Kate schmoozed the caretaker who we were told "does not speak". Everyone Kate tried to talk to this weekend didn't speak Thai, but Lanna, which is a northern dialect. She could have fooled me though since she managed to get our spicy noodles for lunch from the elderly woman for a grand total of 50 cents.

Our goal today was to get home, but when we pulled over on our motorcycle to ask for directions (kate was driving), we slid out. I got pretty angry since Kate crashed and I was on the back, but when I realized that she had sustained most of the damage, I felt like justice had been served. It's pretty powerless to sit on the back and when you put your faith in someone's driving only to crash in a driveway at 5 miles an hour, you can get bitter.

Kate's nursing her wounds and I'm drinking chocolate milk. Everything is chill on the eastern front.

Happy New Year.

The thing about Thailand is that it models itself after the national flower, the orchid. Everyone knows that the orchid is beautiful, often fabled to have rare strains so magnificent they'd knock any Rico Suave to his feet in tears of joy. That is how I find Thailand. I just can't get enough. Though I have complaints about the air quality in the cities and roadway customs, it's nothing you can't find pretty much anywhere else these days, so it isn't worth the verbal lashing. LA driving is probably just as dangerous really. I guess I should stop my blathering and tell you all a little about he last few days:

I've mostly been around Kate's school, it's pretty hard to walk anywhere without getting stopped and chatted to by the students. But if I'm with Kate it's even more ridiculous. I forgot how much Kate just stops and talks with people even if she's late for something... she'll just walk through the school like nothing is more important than meaningless chit chat. I love it. Then when we get to the Teacher's room that's when things get weird. There's this one teacher who looks like a Thai version of Cher and just stares into my eyes all day long and repeats in English, "I'm in love with your eyes. I want your eyes." It freaks me out. Then whenever I talk to her, she turns around and repeats the exact conversation we had 1 minute ago to Kate, who heard it all, and probably doesn't care about the woman's constant flattery towards me.

One of the coolest places we went to was the Samkamphaeng hot springs. It was an obvious tourist spot as opposed to my favored secluded spots, like Sykes Hot Springs, but the fact that they created a tub specifically for boiling eggs blew me away. It was too bad that the suggested times for boiling was all wrong and my eggs were still runny, therefore ruining my entire trip to South East Asia. But the hot springs made up for it by having a sign next to a restaurant claiming that they had "clean food and good teste".



It was a good thing I got my haircut because the next day we went to the Consulate General's for lunch. It was just Kate, another Fulbrighter, myself, the two co-teachers, and the CG's family. It was a pleasant Thai lunch with lots of lip-flapping from the CG's husband. I got pretty annoyed with the other fulbrighter's ass-kissing and shameless self-promoting, but it paled in contrasting embarrassing behavior. Kate burped in the Consulate General's face while in exclamation of pumpkin pie. Then after getting my camera back from security, I pulled a move my mom would do and started taking pictures after I was told not to--but they gave me my camera back, so screw them--and the guards got me busted for doing reconnaissance work on the residence like the terrorist I am.

That evening we motorcycled into town and met up with Kate's friend Maam and ate dinner at her work, which is a cashier at Thailand's equivalent of Costco, dubbed Tesco Lotus. I couldn't control myself and ended up buying things that I have struggled to find in Korea, i.e. Nutella and undershirts. But of course we couldn't help but stop at the photo booth and create some of the raddest photos ever. I wish I had a scanner to put them up. It was about as hilarious as the class in which we taught "give me some dap". After our stunning model shots we went downtown, because we couldn't figure out how to leave the city, and we saw a baby elephant being taken for a walk. It reminded me how much fun it'd be to have a tame jungle cat as a pet.


Kate just made me get up and try her papaya. I told her, "I hate fucking papaya", but she didn't believe me. She claimed that it's the best papaya ever, but I tried it and only tasted vomit inside my mouth. She's sitting outside offering it to all the students and staff that walk by, but she's been shut down EVERY TIME with her generous offerings... I think it's because Thai people are smarter than to eat papaya and it's a big joke Thais play on 'Farang'. Papaya sucks. Don't try and tell me different.

Yesterday was a strange one too. I was invited to Kate's co-teacher's birthday party in the English Department (they seem to be fond of luncheon parties at school). I failed to bring a present so I played and sang songs on guitar for about an hour and a half. They busted out these ancient song books and we played such classics like "Down on the Corner", "Horse with No Name", and "Leaving on a Jet Plane". Then I asked Kate to help me get a Thai massage, so she called the woman that normally comes to school and works on the teachers, but she was unavailable. So I was led to this place by another teacher. I wasn't told until I was inside the place, that this was a blind massage clinic. So yeah, instead of getting massaged by a sexy Thai woman, I was punished by a blind man. Seriously. I felt like I could have spent the same amount and it would have felt the same if I'd just propositioned a homeless man to beat me with sandbags. I'm hurting, probably from the cracking of body parts I never thought possible to crack.

Afterwards we went to the floral festival. We got there and turned right around on the shuttle because it was closed. Everyone told us that it was open until 8, but that was a damn lie! The outside looked cool though, real cool. As we waited for the bus, this woman asked Kate in Thai how many months pregnant she was, but when I turned around to shake my head no, she just nodded as if to tell me it was mine.

The rest of the evening went along like any would at the night bazaar. I bought pirated dvds, Kate bought some earrings, and we both steered clear of gypsies. In a nut shell, I love Thailand.

I just had my hair hacked at by a drunken hairstylist. It's all good though since I spent a grand total of 2 dollars for a wash and cut, and then drank my money back and more with her friends inside the salon for the remainder of the evening.

Also, for the first time in Asia, I've been given a compliment that doesn't have to do with my eyes, face, or height. I have been told I'm smart on several occasions today... I think they might have just been humoring me since the conversations went something like this:

"Hello."
"Hi."
"My name is Bang."
"Hi, you can call me Alex."
"Ohhh, my friend tells me you are smart."
"Who's your friend?"
[no answer]
"Ok, well, nice to meet you. And if you friend thinks I am smart, then maybe you should wear a helmet when you ride that motorcycle."
"See you!"

My flight to Bangkok was peaceful, for a while. I got to catch up on some sleep I missed while trying to rest the night before in the airport. The flight was normal until a hot-headed Korean man assaulted two of the crew for falsely accusing him of smoking in the bathroom. I witnessed it all and this is how it went down:

Male crew member stops female crew member in front of the bathroom door and they seem to discuss the smell emanating. They begin knocking on the door, but no response comes from within. They conclude that either way, something terrible has happened, e.g. stroke, slip and fall, or smoking. They knock for several minutes and finally the man comes out. The crew starts talking to him in English, because they only speak Thai and English, and they ask him for his passport while one goes inside to find the evidence. But the man is frustrated immediately and starts yelling in the little English he knows, "God Dammit!", and he starts getting belligerent by hitting the door and walls. While this is scene develops the other bathroom door opens across the aisle and the smell attracts the male crew member. He realizes it was the other guy and asks him for his passport. The female crew member explains herself quite eloquently and politely and apologizes profusely for disturbing him, but reminds him that he must respond while in the bathroom for the safety of everyone on board. He continues to yell while they deal with the smoker, his manner makes it seem like he just wants attention. So, on his way back to his seat while the male crew member makes his apology, the man pushes him in the chest, and then takes his book in hand and hits the woman on moderately hard on the arm. The passengers gasp and this big old Thai dude wearing a Naval hat jumps up and steps between them making sure that this Korean knows he'll get smacked down if he so much looks at her again.

To make this story short, he just sat there and demanded to speak with the smoker and see a copy of the FAA rules and regulations. There were no police waiting at the terminal like you'd expect in The States, and the entire time, I was sitting in the row ahead of this guy praying that we get boarded by police and watch him get handcuffed on the tarmac. We can't all get what we want for Christmas.


Speaking of which, I celebrated the Holidays with the irreplaceable Kate Sherwood. I arrived at the Chiang Mai airport and met the gal, who then got us onto a paddy wagon type taxi where if it's full, they cram more inside and throw men on the back to dangle for their lives. Her home is a two bedroom pad on her school's campus. We got some grub for Christmas eve and she introduced me to the greatest desert ever made! It's called Rotee and it consists of banana fried inside a thin dough with chocolate and condensed milk poured on top. a-roi... masisseoyo... delicious.

Over dinner she informed me of the specific plans I agreed to for helping her with her Christmas presentation to the school. I not only was to wear an elf costume (though my specific title was "Santie"), but I would be preforming a dance routine on stage in front of all 2800 kids, plus the staff. Imagine this:


A giant elf running on stage with an American flag draped around his neck dancing and pumping his fists to the Queen song, "We Will Rock You". Thank god this wasn't Iran, I would've been shot no before the second chorus. This dance routine was somehow supposed to represent Christmas, but I don't get it. I just do what the Thais tell me to do.

I spent the rest the day acting as a cop-out for Kate to teach anything of significance, but I shouldn't dis that. It's actually a great way to get your kids to talk, by forcing them to interview the guest in class. We had lunch with the English department staff and I was accosted by pretty much all the women teachers. I quickly learned the word for handsome, but was saved in the nick-of-time by Kate and her classes desire to ask me how tall I am. I told them my sister was almost as tall and one girl screams, "OH MY GOD!!!"

At dusk, Kate and I took a leisurely bike ride through the country, stopping at Buddhist temples (wat), accommodating my excessive picture taking and watching a pick-up Christmas cock-fighting match in someone's front yard. I have to say, Thailand is the most beautiful place I've been in the world, and I've only seen 1 day's worth here, most of which was spent in a school compound. And granted, I haven't travelled nearly as much as I want to in life, but so far, Thai Thai takes the top.

Well Hot Damn! I'm almost outta here sucka, but just for some vacation exploration, then I'll be back to the grind come March. I'm jetting off this island Saturday to the cozy atmosphere of Incheon International airport where I'll wake up on a row of seats the morning of Christmas Eve to fly down to Thailand. From there, all bets are off as to what could happen. I can just assume I make it to my next flight in Malaysia and continue on to Bali, then back to Korea sometime at the end of January.

So yeah, that's my plan and I'm sticking to it. You can still email me, and I'll probably have connections along the way to hit you back with that princely wisdom you seek from me (I can only assume that's why anyone emails me, c'mon people where's the love these days?).

I'll be updating when I can, so stay tuned each week and maybe, just maybe, I'll get some pictures uploaded to my posts as I scurry along. word.

Happy Holidays.

Some recent pictures for your viewing pleasure...

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with food poisoning, but let me tell you, it's a good time. I woke up Saturday morning around 5am and felt the urge, the incredible urge. I wasted no time with meaningless articles of clothes and ran stark naked through the house to evacuate all evil-doers from my body. If you've never felt the urge to vomit and shit at the same time, I suggest you go out, eat some spoiled meat and enjoy the ride. If you have, I'm curious to know what expulsion you chose first?

I managed to get my act together well enough to make it to the gallery party in downtown Jeju. There was no art to my disappointment, but plenty of weirdos to ogle. I still felt like I'd been round-housed with a steel-toed boot, but I'm a trooper and chug-a-lugged on till the raffle, which I didn't win. The next morning I awoke to find snow falling flurry-like all over the city. I was like a wide-eyed child who'd never seen snow before, well, I guess I WAS that exactly. My stomach felt like a weight had been lifted so I went out to get some food that was guaranteed to make me feel good... a cheeseburger.

So, 4 months into my homestay and I have yet to cook. I am not allowed to touch anything in the kitchen except chopsticks and spoons, which, by the way, I am now a 36 Chambers master of chopsticks; I can kill a man with such descreet and seemingly harmless utensils.

Anyway, I decided to be bold today and touch an appliance, for I had pizza that needed a reheating. I turned on the 1950s era toaster oven and walked away. I come back 5 minutes later and it is clear that though it's timer is ticking, there's no heat. How can this be so complicated? There's one control, that's it, one! My host mom walks into the kitchen to discover my meddling with her domain and proceeds to pull me out of the way and show me how to plug it in.

I was backhanded pretty hard by my propensity to prove that kitchen's aren't just for 추 부 's. 4 Months out of practice cooking will make you pretty dumb I guess. I'll never touch another thing in the kitchen for as long as I live in Korea.

It has come to my attention that I shall be insurance-less beginning the moment I step back onto American soil. In order to navigate around this seemingly impossible obstacle, I have decided to be an active proponent of socialized medicine and only live/travel in countries with such programs for it's citizens. The only problems I foresee are a) acquiring proof of citizenship and b) speaking swedish.

So I write this as I wait for the food my host mother ordered for me. I got home this afternoon around 5 having not eaten anything all day except 3 cups of coffee and a strawberry cream puff. I stopped at this place called Vavas to get one of these things that I've been eyeing on their sign for a while, turns out it's just a waffle with ketchup, cheese, a single slice of peperoni, and msg inside. I then figured I'd stop at the street vendor that lives outside my house, but she was closed down. I actually think she packed up for the winter, but her truck is still there and I guess it's not a crime to leave your car obstructing the roadway for multiple weeks because now that I think about it, I haven't seen her since I went to Seoul 3 weeks ago. Anyway, I got home and my host mother informed me that she had a toothache and was going to the bathhouse so she would not cook dinner tonight. She told me that I would go out to dinner with my host dad and brother, probably because the dad doesn't know what a stove is and doesn't want his son to prove how domestic he can be (that's another story for another day). I should make it clear that the dad also confirmed this time with me when he came home. The point is with all this banter, that at 7pm when I was informed we would go across the street to eat, I realized that the brother was still not home. I had no problem with his tardiness as I was catching up on some of my old favorites, such as The Negotiator with Samuel L. Jackson and Kevin Spacey (I'm aware that that phrase is used with novels and not movies, and that's the joke). God, I'm totally distracted, I need that fucking food. I'm not even writing in paragraph form, Patrick's gonna rag on me for sure. Ok, so then, after the movie finished, I realized that it was 7:30 and the brother was still MIA and the father behind his closed bedroom door. So I knocked on the door and heard no response. Then, like magic, the front door swung open to reveal a strange man. This man came to change the lightbulb that my host father has been struggling to change for 2 weeks. I'm not joking. I would have offered to help him, but I just don't give a damn about it, and it's funnier to watch him stand on a chair for 10 minutes every other day and fail. I constantly think about the joke: How many ______ does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Unfortunately, he wasn't able to finish the joke for me because he called in a professional (the guy even brought his own step ladder). Jesus Christ! I'm off the wall with hunger. Ok, so after said repairman enters, I think to myself, "oh, maybe I was supposed to meet them at the restaurant at 7pm! When did the host dad sneak by me? Shit. I should go and see if they're there!" Well, I debated my tactic, because as those who have visited Korea know, you can't enter any store, restaurant or department store without being doted upon and (in my opinion) harrassed by the employees. So I figured I'd just sneak around and look through the windows of the place. It didn't seem out of line to do because every local here assumes I'm a criminal anyway. But just as I was putting my sweatshirt on, the door opens again, but this time it's my host mother and she is curious as to why I'm not at the restaurant. She asks if we already ate and I say, "no". She then marches into the bedroom and starts speaking (though it all sounds like heated language to me) to the father. I can hear his responses and he's just groaning, not out of pain, but annoyance; also, "uh" in Korea is slang for "yes" which is what I heard a lot of from the bedroom. There's actually no bed, so I guess it should be called a yohroom, but that's besides the point. THE POINT IS, my father is a deuchebag and could have at least told me that we weren't going out to eat, which I still wonder why we didn't. Some things will remain a mystery. And look at this perfect timing (well I guess you can't see, and for most of you it's way past the fact), but here is my Dol Sot Bibimbap!

Most things are going swimmingly on the Eastern front, but my host father is kind of a tool.

Dear Mr. Oh,
I was hoping we'd get to bond a little bit this weekend during that fishing excursion you proposed for Sunday. Instead, you woke up the house by banging away at a piece of shit coffee table for the house. You didn't fool anyone, we know you didn't make it yourself. It's ugly, clashes with all the other mismatched wood in the house, and smells like a combination turpentine and urine. You also have no feng shui with furniture and I'm surprised god himself has not reprimanded you for your lack of taste. I hate to tell you, but your "natural" looking table is atrocious and in America that kind of ineptitude is worthy of divorce.

The fishing trip would have redeemed your poor purchase, but as usual you disappeared and left me to wonder if you really meant it about the fishing trip. I'm just fortunate to have been pseudo-adopted by Rafiq's family. They took me orange picking, which, I regret to inform you, we were also supposed to do LAST weekend. I wish you could have seen the teachers' faces when I told them that I didn't go orange picking, they read "liar!" all over. You're dead to me Mr. Oh.

But don't get me wrong. I still want to live in your house. It's quite convenient and your son needs a good role model since you lack the neccesary skills. Hell, the electric blanket alone is worth enduring you. Maybe I just have high standards for a father, maybe I'm still pissed about you laughing in my face, or maybe it's just me, but either way, you suck.

Sincerely,
The guy who lives in your house and eats all your kimchi when you're away.