#7 Absorbed into Nothing

Thailand has some special kids. Basically these kids are mentally disabled somehow and are usually quite difficult to deal with in class. Sometimes they're harmless but that's a rarity. Jeng literally ran around the library with a plastic hammer for the entirety of my first lesson. Teaching in the library is hard enough with copying machines and all the comings and goings that come with it but when you add Jeng it's nearly impossible. The next week he decided he was going to class with the kids the next grade up and so he didn't attend my class. The week after that he was back and he set up all the beanbags I had with me on their side, about twenty, in a design that resembled crop circles. It was an endeavor that took an exceeding amount of patience as the bean bags do not sit up easily. When I came over to him at the end of class he looked up at me and then proceeded to scatter all the beanbags and then follow his classmates out. Jeng is seven or eight.

There are two in my class of little devils at Sitrabut who love to screw around and generally not pay attention. One of them isn't special he's just dim, the other is quite smart and always knows what I've taught that day, he's got to have aspergers or something. The way he behaves in class, his body language, his complete and totally anomalous social behavior, he's got to have a mental hiccup going on in that brain of his. He's a bit naughty sometimes but he's a saint compared to the special kid in Lawri's class. He throws massive fits daily and then attaches himself to her wrapping his legs around hers and his arms around her waist. He's only seven or eight but she says that he's stronger than her.

In Thailand they always call these kids special, it's the way they do it here. There also seems to be little acknowledgment of what makes these kids special. The difference between ADD and autism is not recognized. Obviously they see the difference but aside from possibly removing the student from the class there will be no action taken to try and change the students experience in school. I've figured out that one of my kids is red-green colorblind. He's a smart kid and he should know the difference but he still holds up the wrong color when I say either red or green. Blue, yellow, and orange are usually fine but that red and green thing is tough. I've seen homeroom teachers smack kids with a bit of force for getting things wrong when they should know better and this kid should know better, if he wasn't color blind.

Occasionally these special kids will have a sort of buddy in the class who helps them with their work, sits with them to keep them out of trouble, and explains things to them they don't understand. It's sweet and the dedication is inspiring. A girl in class moved from team six to team two right before we began a game. This is common, kids want to be with their friends, but this girl, as I found out later, simply wanted to be next to the special kid who was designated as her charge by some teacher or administrator. It can't be fun but it's admirable, taking care of those who need it, this sort of responsibility is accepted all too rarely.

A political poster in Thailand

Taking care of each other isn't exactly a cultural norm though. The national elections are coming next week and the way that a political campaign is conducted in Thailand is absolutely amazing. There are posters with heads of lizards and dogs and many other animals superimposed on human bodies wearing suits that symbolize politicians. There are no politicians singled out by this campaign it's a knock on politicians across the board and to a Thai person being called or even associated with having animal like qualities is extremely offensive. That particular advertising campaign is by a group that is trying to get people to abstain from voting because the system is corrupt. I would say supposedly but there's really no doubt about it. To put insult to injury though the group that is putting up these don't vote signs is rumored to be funded by the yellow shirts who are currently in control of the government. They're probably not in the majority as the red shirts have been gaining large amounts of support lately and they know that if they can get people not to vote it will be easier for them to fix the election.

Chuvit ANGRY!!!

There is a guy running who's platform is anti-corruption, a message that probably would ring true with most Thais if it weren't currently being spear headed by a man who owns numerous brothels in Thailand and pays the cops off regularly in order to allow them to operate. Chuvit is his name, and in addition to anti-corruption he's also very interested in decreasing traffic. Some of his posters show him looking very angry and holding on to a steering wheel. There's two other angry Chuvit posters, one where he's got his hands on his head balled into fists full of those sparse hairs that still remain on his head. In the other he has a baby wrapped up in his right arm and he's doing his standard angry face. Apparently the message is that a government is like a baby, it's only happy when it's being changed regularly. There is one happy picture of him, he's kneeling next to a dog, the national symbol of loyalty. Chuvit isn't the only candidate, though he's certainly the most entertaining. Other posters look like they might be obituary pictures for business men or generals. Old men wearing their nice clothes, some with military uniforms, and a garish smile on their face that reminds me of a villains sneer as you step into his trap. They simply cannot compare with Chuvit's televised event in which he smashed an egg over the head of a man wearing a paper bag with another politicians name written on it. Of course it wasn't a paid advertisement in the traditional sense, it was a news story but without question Chuvit paid someone at the news agency to air it.

I would trust a stranger walking out of my own house with a TV before I'd trust these two.

Despite all this show there is a bit of real drama. The leading candidate as most people see it is the sister of the former prime minister who was deposed and exiled and has since been declared a terrorist and is also accused of massive fraud. All accusations aside from the terrorism are probably true however they are also true of many of the other politicians as well. The sister who's running for prime minister has no political experience at all, she's the head of the red shirts who idolize Thaksin, the deposed prime minister. All of the Thais think that if the red shirts get too many people in to the government and they can form a coalition that the yellow shirts don't like then we will have curfews and the election will be declared invalid. It's not such a far step to imagine such a scenario as in 2006 when they began prosecuting Thaksin for conflict of interest because he was the host of a televised cooking program they also disbanded his party for vote fraud. There has since been a tape circulating the internet between one of the judges and the opposition party discussing how best to ensure Thaksin's party was dissolved.

No matter what happens I'm pretty sure that I'll experience some sort of curfew, hey, who knows, maybe there'll be riots again and school will be canceled? Johann, this mid thirties Irish guy who's one of the sweetest men I've ever met snuck out last year during the curfew when the red shirts were occupying Ratchaprason Square. He got back into his house and just then a cop came walking up and asked him what he'd been doing out. He said he just wanted to have a look around. The cop said that he could be shot on sight for being out after curfew and Johann in true foreigner fashion said, “But I'm a teacher.” It is true, at least last year when there was a curfew the orders were anyone caught breaking it who didn't follow the commands of military personnel could be shot, it never happened though. Everyone knew what the curfew was about, and when the Red Shirts started fires all across the city all of the Farangs climbed to the top of the nearest building and watched the flames and smoke plume up into the sky, pillars of frustration that were absorbed into nothing.

Till we meet again friends, and as you go skating out of your house after six think of me, because in a weeks time there's a very good chance I won't be allowed out that late.

#6 Under the Rug

Stupid things boys think about doing in Thailand

We call the director of teachers at my company KGB. There's also Irish Dave, Scottish Dave, American Andy, Bendy, Flips, New Tom, Old Tom, Big Adam, Little Adam, Big Dean, Dave II, Techno Tara and Caz. Caz is short for Caroline, an abbreviation whose origin only the Brits seem to understand. Techno Tara was a self made nickname that made us all laugh so much it stuck with her as a running gag. Dave II isn't the only Dave, he's also not the second Dave but the actual second Dave is Irish Dave and so there's Dave, Dave II, and Irish Dave, the new Dave is Scottish Dave . Big Dean is one of two Deans and the other isn't exactly small, but Big Dean is really big. Big Adam and Little Adam is a fun one too because, if you can believe it I'm the little Adam. Old Tom and New Tom is pretty self explanatory, I haven't any idea how Flips became Flips except to say that he's neither New Tom nor Old Tom however his given name is Tom. American Andy is also pretty self explanatory but Bendy is my favorite. There is Ben H. and Ben D. and then Bendy came along who was also a Ben D. so everyone just called him Bendy. All these names are fun but the best is still KGB. She's a brick shaped lesbian with a mustache who would absolutely be considered a man if her real name wasn't Kate. She's from Belarus where the intelligence service is still called KGB and Kate's demeanor is indicative of the ice cold agents you imagine to be going through your personal belongings when you're not around. If you listen closely to her though, you can hear that she's got the driest, best sense of humor of the lot of us.

All of this fun about the names at work is great but the real excitement is getting there. Rolling out of bed at a quarter to six to take a cold shower before covering half my body in baby powder and crossing the street to one of the motorcycle taxi stands. I usually stop off at seven eleven as well to get bio milk, it's this milk that tastes like an orange creamsicle and has bacteria that is supposedly very helpful to your stomach in this country with its complete lack of health code enforcement. On the back of one of these motorbikes there is a sort of reckless abandon that reminds me of being eighteen and climbing on the back of my friend Scott's motorcycle to get driven down the street. That was about as dangerous as fighting a baby with an inflatable toy compared to this, but I suppose it was more the disobedient act (my parents would not have approved) rather than the actual danger of it that was exciting. I used to grip the back of the seat of the motor bike taxis so tightly my knuckles turned white, but now as we weave in and out of traffic I usually drink my bio milk with a blasé attitude. There's an imaginary bike lane that is about three feet wide and sits on the central dividing line between the two lanes of oncoming traffic. When it gets too busy the taxi will cross to the shoulder and hop us up onto the sidewalk. If that's not an option the opposite side walk is a last resort. Often times a detour through a parking garage or a shopping center plaza is the most appropriate path to where you're going. Whatever the route, these glorious individuals take faith to a whole new level as they pull out into traffic ahead of buses and trucks that come within a few feet of those paying patrons on the backs of bad bikes in a rush to reach the BTS. (Bangkok Mass Transit System)

Amazingly all the travel on these bikes hasn't spawned something I was certain would happen sooner or later, a close encounter with a bug. Of course it did happen eventually but not while I was on a motor bike.

I definitely just swallowed a gnat, a fly, something buzzing around in the air anyway. When I felt it the bugger was too far back in my mouth to be easily fished out. Also, there was a ladyboy waitress, one who'd waited on me a couple of times, standing there waiting for my order. I could have tried to extract it but I also might have gagged myself in the process. I didn't know what kind of kinky shit this tranny was or wasn't into but vomiting on a wait person during his/her shift is not going to go over well. I swallowed hard to try and bring the buzzless bastard down and for the time it took me to order, it worked. Then I could feel it, this speck of a thing that felt like a speck on the inside of the corner where my mouth turns into my neck. Still alive, this orally assassinated insect had been under the same impression I was, that the violent torrent of rain which had rudely erupted on my way home would subside shortly. As a result the best course of action was an early evening snack and a beer, however this little piece of protein didn't count on being the snack, cest la vie.

...at least that's how I described it that evening.

Another evening I found myself at one of the most posh clubs in Bangkok, at least the most posh club that doesn't charge my months salary for entry. It was models night and my friend had a photographer friend that got him a modeling card so he got in for free and, thanks to his friend, a host of his friends as well. I'd been out to this models night at other clubs, it was shit. If you ever want to be in a room full of beautiful looking people who ignore you then models night is for you. Of course after an hour and a half of dance and trying to strike up conversation I did meet someone. Here's the thing though, when you're in a room full of models it's pretty easy to be the ugliest person in sight and unfortunately since a models career is built upon pure esthetics what can be seen is really all that exists. So when I finally met someone it was of course one of these ugliest person in sight types. What's really sad is that she isn't even ugly, it's just a comparison thing. Kitty who's a make up artist at some magazine and got in to models night as part of the industry started showering me with free drink tickets and taking care of my friends too! After the first drink she wanted a kiss, after the second drink she wanted more, I suppose I can now relate to those women in bars that accept free drinks not knowing the repercussions of this wanton “hospitality.” Originally I tried to get the free drink with Kitty's ticket but the bartenders looked me up and down and asked if I was a model, apparently my yes wasn't convincing enough and they sent me away. Eventually I realized the real problem was probably that my clothes weren't ridiculous enough. The models wore the most outrageous things and I and my thrifty fashion sense did not fit in, that and I looked like Quazimoto compared to the other guys.

Eventually I left, before the other friends who came with me. Apparently not everyone found the horrid meat market of models night as annoying as I did, but there's something about models night that rings true in Thai culture. There's a definite surface level quality that is maintained in Thailand. If there's a problem the best course of action is to wait it out, to stall or avoid finding a solution as the solution will become simple neglect. Sweep it under the rug as one of the teachers at school says about his girlfriends conflict resolution method. However, there is a certain cultural ignorance in this observation because they say that Thailand is the land of smiles, and they're right. Everyone smiles at each other and the smiles mean many things. There's a smile that says oh so happy to see you. There's a smile that says go away and another for go away quickly. There's a fuck you smile and an I want to fuck you smile, surprisingly the two are quite similar. As a westerner the differences seem miniscule, a turn of the lip here or a dip of the head there, but to Thais the communicative power is unmistakable. This is perhaps why westerners don't understand the way that Thais approach conflict? Despite this though, relativity only goes so far and some things must be accepted as better or worse as well.

Good bye friends, and whenever you see a fly think of me and be happy it's not wiggling down your gullet.

Check back on the "A Life on Stage" post for some brilliant pics!

Stupid things boys actually do in Thailand

#5 A Life on Stage

Teaching is a kin to performing. One must captivate their audience and take risks. One must give the impression of spontaneity while everything goes according to plan. Sometimes improvisation is in order, usually not, and occasionally an accident occurs that is truly a blessing. For the performance to be exceptional the audience must be taken somewhere. Some are born to do this, others however must work very hard only to achieve mediocrity, and like most things in life, if it is not enjoyed then it is probably not done well. The closest approximation that theater gets to my quality of teaching at this point is one of those shitty middle school summer stock plays I was in at the JCC. There are loads of teachers who suck, and of those there are two categories, just like the actors in those plays, ones with potential and ones without. The ones with developed talent are few and far between.

I was teaching another teacher's students last week, they do that so that an experienced teacher can watch you and give you pointers. An eleven year old ended up kicking me in the stomach. To be fair I may have deserved it. If you were fighting with someone and a giant came over to you and scooped you up by your arm pits and carried you off I think you might kick him too. The wife of one of my trainers was there, a Thai girl who's absolutely amazing at her job, she took that kid to task. Another kid refused to speak in my class, and not because he didn't know how, he simply was better than my class. The first born sons of Chinese-Thai are apparently like that. The Chinese-Thai are generally very wealthy, they are either envied or hated by every Thai, there is no in between. I took the kid aside and asked him to behave, to sit nicely, speak when asked to and be quite when he was supposed to. Minutes later in front of the whole class I praised him for being well behaved. He became more involved in the class and the other students, an unruly lot to be sure, began acting just a little bit better. In one of my kindergarten classes there is a little monkey girl who literally hangs on every part of me. She jumps on my back if I'm kneeling, when I stick an arm out to guide a child to their seat she wraps her arms around it and lifts her legs off the ground, she's completely adorable.

Outside of the classroom the performances can be equally memorable. Thais love western music, but for some reason they like it sung by a Thai singer with a cheeky soft backing band that substitutes synthesizers for xylophones. The words are still all in English but the accent can make the songs, at times, unintelligible. Other times the singer over enunciates the words completely destroying the rhythm of the lyric. However I assure you that you've not lived until you see a thirty-five year old Thai mother of three who looks twenty-one on stage in a jean dress that hardly covers her ass belting out, “There's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York. These streets will make you feel brand new, big lights will inspire you. Let's hear it for New York.” She almost sounds better than Alicia Keys. Luckily my friend Ollie knows her quite well and we get to see her regularly.

Not every performance is about the acting, set design and costumes can make or break any performance and since nearly every employee in Bangkok has to wear a uniform there is always something to look at when you get tired of observing the lady boys. Thais love uniforms for some reason, some people think that it's a cultural thing, a complete rejection of the individual being unique and thinking divergently or critically. One of my bosses, not a teacher thankfully, said that we don't need to teach our students to think, Thais don't need to think in this culture, they just need to wake up every morning and do their jobs if they want to be an effective part of society. Whatever the case is about thought, the fact remains that a door man usually has as elaborate an outfit as a three star general, and the funny part about it is the police uniforms are actually zip up jumpsuits that look to be fancy button ups. Also, secretaries are lined up every morning to make sure their hair and make up are done properly and that they have shirts that show enough neck and chest but no cleavage. It's like Catholic school except sex is highly encouraged.

Annoyingly loud promoters for Snickers

Other notable performers are the blind people who walk around with stereo's slung about their necks and a microphone in their hand. When a part of the song comes along that they know they will sing out the words, or as it usually sounds, the moans. It doesn't look as if they were born blind either and the thought of what brought them to this point is none to pleasurable. There are also the revelers at the feet of monks. There are monks located at seemingly random places during the morning commute. Faithful little worker bees on their way to work stop and throw a few baht into their coffers and kneel at the monks feet while the monk blesses them for their...uh...kindness? That particular interaction always amuses me, I wonder if the prayers the kneeling faithful put forth are, “Please make sure that that fat sweaty fuck Sanam doesn't sit next to me in the canteen again at lunch today.” Or maybe they're more along the lines of, “Please let the all mighty strike down my horrid boss's son who sits around at his desk all day looking at porn and then asks me if I'll do his work for him.” This last prayer is probably the more common of the two options, nepotism is all the rage here.

A Singha beer girl

More recently in the performance world putting reality at center stage has become very lucrative. It started with talk shows, Jerry Springer inviting the most volatile individuals that the ghettos, small towns, back country dive bars, and high society inbreds had to offer onto his show, and then asking them to sort their life out in front of national TV audiences. It was a great idea for an amateur anthropologist but I'll refrain from passing judgment on it with my theatrical side. Then there was the real world, big brother, (thanks Dutchies) Survivor, and The Bachelor. Bangkok has it's own reality performances though, more exciting than any of these god forsakenly contrived “reality” TV shows. Just try bartering with a purveyor of electronics at MBK. You start off talking about the expensive stuff, Iphones, Blackberries, Androids, (that's for you Sam) then you move on to what you actually came for, a cheap piece of shit phone that will make voice calls, wont tell you when you've missed calls, and randomly freeze when you try and delete too many texts at once. Suddenly the shop owner's English has gotten very bad, they pretend not to understand your complicated Farang speech patterns, every time you ask what color it comes in they look at you like you just killed an infant. Eventually you leave feeling as frustrated as a sex addict in a straight jacket and having only talked the owner down two dollars from twenty-three to twenty-one.

The Farangs are good reality shows in and of themselves, the Thais need to do little to encourage stupidity. Ollie broke his arm six months ago. He got on the back of a motorbike taxi while seriously intoxicated and when the taxi hit a bump in the road he lost his balance and fell off the back. Our other friend said the taxi driver didn't even slow down once Ollie fell off. When the faithful friend got back to Ollie they discussed going to the hospital and by the time the conversation was over Ollie's arm looked like a snake that swallowed and ostrich egg. So how did Ollie get to the hospital? On the back of a motorbike. The story doesn't end there, the nurses set Ollie's arm for him, and when he went back to the doctor a few days later, without any instructions to do so but rather purely of his own volition, the doctor who saw him looked at new x-rays and shook his head with complete disappointment on his face. “What's the matter?” Ollie asked.

“Who did this to you?”

“Well, I fell off the back of a motorbike.”

“No. Who set your arm?”

“Oh. The nurses.”

“We're going to have to re-set it. Do you want the anesthetic.” Ollie considers for a moment.

“It's the end of the month and I'm a little short on cash, so just go for it.”

The nurses who attended to Ollie after the second setting of his broken arm looked at this extremely fit and attractive Jordie from New Castle who was covered in sweat in an air conditioned doctors office and asked, “Are you the one who had your arm set without the shot?” It was a rhetorical question.

Boys on the way to school

The schools could also be a reality TV show. At one of the Muslim schools there were a host of kids lined up out in the yard during one of the classes being disciplined. Apparently one of the kids was found with alcohol but it was unclear who's it was and who'd had some. None of the kids were fessing up about it so they were all lined up and one by one the principal and teacher were giving them this little shot glass full of something that induced nearly instant vomiting. Since they didn't know who'd drank the alcohol they were going to make sure that whoever it was wasn't going to digest any more of it. There is also the school where on random days the head master stands out in front with a pair of scissors and anyone found with a hair style that is too extreme gets it modified on the spot. A piece of hair that is left longer than the rest gets lopped off, or a streak of color is snipped away from a head and left at the entrance to the school. What amazing theater this would make if only someone could convince the schools to allow it to be filmed.

Among the performances that are intended to be that there is one that is rather famous in Thailand. The ping-pong show. I won't get into too many details but I'll just leave it at this. Women do things like shoot ping pong balls or darts or gold fish across the room, and they're not using their hands or their mouth.

Motor bike taxi drivers

There is also the male strip shows where they play drums with their penis's. Oddly enough I've only heard amazing things about this. After work the other day a few of us were having a drink and a Brit told one of the girls, “Ok, you went with me to the girly strip clubs, I'll go with you to the guys.” There is just a totally different mentality amongst the people in this country. Sin is widely condoned, and those that admonish it are mostly quite unhappy, quite unliked, or both. I've found that when something comes across that I disagree with, or perhaps am even offended by, (which is rare) then it's best to sit and listen or to quickly get over it and take it as another piece of knowledge to be had along the way. There's no use trying to change their minds and in this way westerners are similar to Thais. Thais are notorious for facing conflict with agreement and acquiescence then the second the conflicting argument is physically gone they return to exactly what they thought, were doing, or were about to do. The only difference here is that a westerner might fight you about it a bit more.

The next performance I hope to see is one of trust. I want to find a person that I can trust and rely on. Oddly enough Ollie the party animal I live with has proven the most reliable person I've met. He gets home at four in the morning and gets up for work at seven, sometimes I wake him up for it sometimes he gets up on his own. He takes weeks off from drinking and works out and eats extremely carefully. Various bar owners around Bangkok will come and meet us wherever we've gone out to and they wrap their arms around him like he's their little brother or even son. Everyone loves Ollie, his Jordie tendencies come out when he's pissed (drunk) and yet he still manages to be perfectly nice to everyone, to call you before he leaves the club to make sure you don't want to go with, and translate someone one's poor drunken English into his poor drunken Thai so that you can get home. Ollie is a hero.

Alright folks, kha pun krap, and think of me the next time you see someone giving an impromptu performance, because that's my everyday.

Don't let your friend choose the pose for a picture when he doesn't ever wear his doctor prescribed glasses or contacts.

I love this one, a BTS attendant.