So we've left Thailand behind with many promises to be back and arrived in Vietnam. Some wrap up thoughts of Phuket:
1) The first time I ever heard Phuket even mentioned was in winter 2004 after the tsunami. I remember seeing some of the photographs later recovered from people's cameras. They're in their bathing suits, just standing on the beach, watching the water recede. They were probably confused or excited or scared, maybe calling their friends and family to them to come watch the spectacle, maybe shouting for those friends and family to run. I read an article by Jet Li, who was in the Maldives when the tsunami hit, and he described how it didn't come as one torrential wave like in a cartoon. It was more like he took one step and the water was up to his knees and then another and it was at his waist and another and it was at his shoulders until it went over his head and he struggled to keep his daughter above the angry sea.
So we wanted to stop our mindlessness for a moment to remember those people who, like us, were just on vacation and having fun when the world changed.
We'd heard there were underwater memorials but we wanted to see one on land. When we asked the police officer at Patong if there was a memorial on that stretch of beach, a tourism hub, he said no, shrugging, "Thousands of people died here." Since we had read about a memorial at Kamala beach, we asked a tuk-tuk driver how much it would be to get us there. Amazingly, he wasn't even sure where it was, but gave us a price and agreed to look for it since we had a general idea where it would be.
The main memorial can be seen here: http://travel.webshots.com/photo/2020537860098531603SMCwPh
For those who can't open that link, imagine a spiderweb of metal, roughly shaped like a sphere, with what seems to be waves of the same material inside of it. It's huge, about 20 feet high, on a raised patch of earth.
One of the things that struck me was the wording on it. It was not angry or regretful. In part, it read, "“Natural disaster is caused by a shift of nature to obtain equilibrium of the earth. Motions and forces of nature are inseparable. Its dynamism includes connecting, flowing and changing things ranging from atomic structure, physical chemistry, human behaviour to inner universe as a cycle of life linking everything to one.”
A little further away, on the beach, there was another memorial placed by Japan. It, too, had a subdued tone, something about paying respect to the Andaman Sea so it would respect you -- us -- back. It made me think of the offerings we'd made on our boating trip. I hope to stay forever on the Sea's good side.
2) Back to frivolity: A bunch of Australians we met on our boating outing told us we HAD to go to Bangla Road and oh, wasn't it the bestest and funnest. So that's how we spent our last night, amazed at the skankiness that was Bangla Road. (Note remarkable restraint in not making any "Bang-her Road" jokes. And to the pervs out there who commented on where we're visiting: Phuket is NOT pronounced the way you think it is, so stop it with your little remarks.)
We were saying it was another Bourbon Street, Thailand. But much, much, much worse. The sex tourist quota was way high. The minute a guy entered one of the bars, he had a lady at his side, and he could buy her a drink at a reduced "lady drink" price so indicated on the menu.
Jordo and I camped out at one bar for a bit, drinking Long Island Iced Teas out of glasses shaped like naked ladies (Me: "Watch your hands, sicko! You're married now!" Jordo: "It's a glass!") We watched what was obviously, tragically, a relationship based on nothing more than the exchange of bhat develop near us. We noticed another couple watching, too, and I walked over to ask them if they thought they were seeing what we thought we thought we were seeing. The couple, from Holland, agreed.
We saw other couples find each other in this way. In one bar, the older white man was holding the young Thai girl's arm, as if she couldn't bear to touch his hand. (Well, Julia Roberts's big standard was she didn't kiss her johns on the lips.) (Incidentally, we've been talking about judging people based on superficial factors and how wrong and it and I had to admit it: I look down on people who like "Pretty Woman." I'm trying to be better about this.) (No offense, T.)
We saw another couple walking together and it looked like he was trying to turn into the McDonald's. Like, "Oh, I said I'd get you a meal, too? Have a happy one." The woman resisted and there seemed to be a little argument. Then the woman went down on her knees in front of the man, causing me to gasp. (Especially since we were like Stalker Jack and Jill, right next to them.) She got up and they seemed to make up and they walked on. Jordo mused that maybe she was just trying to show her submission to her manly man who has to pay for companionship.
It was disturbing. And sad. And it could have been funny, too, if Jordo had just heard me out and gone through with my plan to have him enter a bar alone while I stood outside and observed for a little while. He declined, possibly thinking I would evilly observe for way too long or shoot incriminating photos. Such trust issues, we have in this marriage.....
(That said, please note that when Jordo was getting a Thai massage, I pulled back the curtain a few times and took photos that could be seen as incriminating -- i.e., woman sitting on his back, smiling. I plan to keep these on hand in case he ever says he wants to run for public office as I will not be a good pol's wife. I had that reinforced while watching Michelle Obama's speech at the DNC, when I thought, "Michelle, tell these people to bite your tall drink of water self and vote for your husband because he's the best, dammit. That's what I'd do.")
3) Jordo did the "Palin, Palin" thing while we were shopping on Bangla Road and one man actually answered back, questioningly, "Palin?" Later, when we walked by that guy again, he shouted, "Palin! Palin!" You have to be flexible in retail.
More later.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Patong Beach is No Jersey Shore
Because as best as I can tell, the Jersey shore doesn't have prostitute bars.
Really, Patong is the worst. It's a bunch of young australians on something called 40 trip (imagine frat spring break weekend but more group songs), and old pervy euros with thai girls who are pushing 18 at best. Aside from that there was a group of Australian women way overdressed (it's a crappy beach town and they come in looking like extras for the Grammy's) and your intrepid bloggers.
So what do we do? Well we wander around for a while and finally settle at what appears to be some random dive bar with a bunch of australians. We get menus for drinks and below the list of beers and liquors is the little heading "lady drink". Does this mean women can only have soft drinks and the like? No, fear not, lady drink is what you order for the bar girl that keeps you company. We realized this after looking over at some white guy pushing 60 who was chatting away with a Thai girl who looked at best 22 (a hard living 22, but still).
Not wanting to jump to conclusions, we sought out the only other couple in the bar (dutch duo in their 30's or 40's) and asked their opinion. They were with us, they guy was a sex tourist all the way. As if to confirm our collective suspicions the old guy haggled with the thai girl for a bit, started kissing for a few minutes and then walked off hand in hand. Ahh Patong.
This repeated at each bar we went to. Some old whiteguy sitting their trying to hit on some remarkably bored looking Thai girl who was at best 1/3 of his age.
Did I mention the drinks we ordered? They came in glasses shaped like headless naked women. And our check number? 69. Same as everyone else's check there.
Stay classy Patong Beach, someone has to.
Really, Patong is the worst. It's a bunch of young australians on something called 40 trip (imagine frat spring break weekend but more group songs), and old pervy euros with thai girls who are pushing 18 at best. Aside from that there was a group of Australian women way overdressed (it's a crappy beach town and they come in looking like extras for the Grammy's) and your intrepid bloggers.
So what do we do? Well we wander around for a while and finally settle at what appears to be some random dive bar with a bunch of australians. We get menus for drinks and below the list of beers and liquors is the little heading "lady drink". Does this mean women can only have soft drinks and the like? No, fear not, lady drink is what you order for the bar girl that keeps you company. We realized this after looking over at some white guy pushing 60 who was chatting away with a Thai girl who looked at best 22 (a hard living 22, but still).
Not wanting to jump to conclusions, we sought out the only other couple in the bar (dutch duo in their 30's or 40's) and asked their opinion. They were with us, they guy was a sex tourist all the way. As if to confirm our collective suspicions the old guy haggled with the thai girl for a bit, started kissing for a few minutes and then walked off hand in hand. Ahh Patong.
This repeated at each bar we went to. Some old whiteguy sitting their trying to hit on some remarkably bored looking Thai girl who was at best 1/3 of his age.
Did I mention the drinks we ordered? They came in glasses shaped like headless naked women. And our check number? 69. Same as everyone else's check there.
Stay classy Patong Beach, someone has to.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Phun Phactoids Phrom Phuket
So much to tell! But because we've got some serious leisuring to do here on our last day in Phuket, I'm just going to do a bullet point review of some of our adventures/observations:
1. "Boss! Madame!" That is how people try to get our attention when we walk down the streets any tourist-y place, be it Bangkok, the Floating Markets, or on Phuket's Bourbon Street. I've found I can dazzle them into silence by just rattling off a bunch of Italian, even if the English translation is something like, "I'm sorry. I love my cats! I'm hungry. Where is the Piazza Repubblica? Don't you know that a woman who doesn't have children doesn't have a house?" (That last line is one I had to memorize for a play I was in in Florence, "La Mandragola." It was just so ironic at the time, that I had to say this as I played the nagging mother-in-law, that I never forgot it. I will perform on request when I get back home.)
Jordo, however, has more problems blowing people off. He tried to say, "I'm sorry" in Italian but kept forgetting the words. Then he went Spanish with "Lo siento." Sadly, too many people recognized that and began speaking Spanish back to him. So he made up his own language. So far, it has one word and that's the word for "no": Palin. So when hawkers say, "Boss, boss. Good deal for you on shirts. Hand made," Jordo brushes them off with, "Palin, Palin" and keeps walking. Only I am amused.
2. Negotiating prices. We'd been told before we got here how people love the bartering and, let me tell you, I hate the bartering. It gets so dramatic! At the Floating Market, we'd automatically offer about half or a third less than the listed price, then it would take 20 minutes of heavy sighing and jumping up and down and arm grabbing (on the part of the sellers) to finally settle on a final price. Seriously, if they could just tell me, honestly, the lowest price they'd take, I would happily give them 100 bhat more (about $3) just to end this dance. Every transaction takes too long for my liking.
That said, we got some cool stuff at the Floating Market, including a spirit house. Spirit Houses are everywhere here, dwellings on the outside of homes to keep the good spirits close and the bad spirits out of the inside of the house. People give offerings to their spirit houses everyday, ranging from flowers to food to beer. We hope to get ours home safely.
Jordo also got some pants, and in the spirit of negotiating, he told me to act like I hated them when he put them on. So when he did, I started laughing. Then he got confused, not sure if this was a true mockery or savvy technique. I tried to indicate it was the latter, and when the girl handed me the calculator to ask how much I would let him pay for the pants, I put in all zeros. It worked OK, as we got them pretty cheaply.
3. Here at the beach and by the pool in Phuket, the Speedo craze is alive and well. One of our favorite gentlemen so nattily dressed has been nicknamed, "Admiral Partypants" as he wears his tiny black Speedo and a jaunty white captain's hat. He is about 65 or so with a belly to rival Santa's. That said, he still enjoys strutting up and down the length of the pool, letting all the sunbathers take a good look at him. Of course, J has dubbed him my boyfriend, and the various other older Speedo wearers --- including Mr. "I love my leopard print undies" -- are just shipmates on the Admiral's Cruise of Love. We have been here days and I have never seen the Admiral clothed in anything other than this outfit. (I'd also like to add I have never seen the Admiral clothed in anything less than this, just in case the rumors of my love for the Admiral go international.)
4. Yesterday, at the recommendation of friends, we went on a boat/cave junket. It was pretty awesome. It was an all day affair, starting before noon and getting us back by 9 pm. Loved it. Gorgeous scenary, like "Lost," with the jutting rocks and the beaches and trees. (We discussed how we'd do if we were stranded there like "Lost." Answer: Jordo would be well liked by the fellow islanders. I would be burned as a witch.) We got to canoe on our own, jump off the top of the two story boat and into the Andaman Sea, avoid jellyfish, see some caves where the tops were so narrow at times that we had to lie back in our canoe and visit others so cavernous that we could chat with bats squeaking from the ceiling. (No vampire bats, our guides assured us ahead of time, but like that would have been a problem.) As it got dark, we worked with our guide, Max, to make an offering to the water god, constructing it of banana leaf and tree, yellow carnations and purple orchids, three pieces of incense for Budda, his monks and his holy book, and candles. We let these offerings free after dark in an inlet, reachable by cave, that was surrounded by steep mountain walls. Our offerings, floating with all the others, was so beautiful. Very peaceful. On our way back through the cave, we splashed the water to see the plankton glow like fireflies. Jordo noted that because it was so cloudy we didn't have any stars in the sky. I said they were in the sea.
5. Throughout this trip, my traveling companion has taken to referring to himself as "J-Dog" and in the third person, as in "J-Dog doesn't roll that way" or "J-Dog can't help but be popular with the ladies" or, one of my favorites, "That's now how J-Dog does." (Wrong. On so many levels.) J-Dog started this campaign on the plane to Tokyo and had said it would stop when we landed. It has not. We leave for Hanoi tomorrow and I was reading in our guidebook about the "exotic" foods the Vietnamese eat, which includes dogs. Fair warning, J-Dog.
More later!
1. "Boss! Madame!" That is how people try to get our attention when we walk down the streets any tourist-y place, be it Bangkok, the Floating Markets, or on Phuket's Bourbon Street. I've found I can dazzle them into silence by just rattling off a bunch of Italian, even if the English translation is something like, "I'm sorry. I love my cats! I'm hungry. Where is the Piazza Repubblica? Don't you know that a woman who doesn't have children doesn't have a house?" (That last line is one I had to memorize for a play I was in in Florence, "La Mandragola." It was just so ironic at the time, that I had to say this as I played the nagging mother-in-law, that I never forgot it. I will perform on request when I get back home.)
Jordo, however, has more problems blowing people off. He tried to say, "I'm sorry" in Italian but kept forgetting the words. Then he went Spanish with "Lo siento." Sadly, too many people recognized that and began speaking Spanish back to him. So he made up his own language. So far, it has one word and that's the word for "no": Palin. So when hawkers say, "Boss, boss. Good deal for you on shirts. Hand made," Jordo brushes them off with, "Palin, Palin" and keeps walking. Only I am amused.
2. Negotiating prices. We'd been told before we got here how people love the bartering and, let me tell you, I hate the bartering. It gets so dramatic! At the Floating Market, we'd automatically offer about half or a third less than the listed price, then it would take 20 minutes of heavy sighing and jumping up and down and arm grabbing (on the part of the sellers) to finally settle on a final price. Seriously, if they could just tell me, honestly, the lowest price they'd take, I would happily give them 100 bhat more (about $3) just to end this dance. Every transaction takes too long for my liking.
That said, we got some cool stuff at the Floating Market, including a spirit house. Spirit Houses are everywhere here, dwellings on the outside of homes to keep the good spirits close and the bad spirits out of the inside of the house. People give offerings to their spirit houses everyday, ranging from flowers to food to beer. We hope to get ours home safely.
Jordo also got some pants, and in the spirit of negotiating, he told me to act like I hated them when he put them on. So when he did, I started laughing. Then he got confused, not sure if this was a true mockery or savvy technique. I tried to indicate it was the latter, and when the girl handed me the calculator to ask how much I would let him pay for the pants, I put in all zeros. It worked OK, as we got them pretty cheaply.
3. Here at the beach and by the pool in Phuket, the Speedo craze is alive and well. One of our favorite gentlemen so nattily dressed has been nicknamed, "Admiral Partypants" as he wears his tiny black Speedo and a jaunty white captain's hat. He is about 65 or so with a belly to rival Santa's. That said, he still enjoys strutting up and down the length of the pool, letting all the sunbathers take a good look at him. Of course, J has dubbed him my boyfriend, and the various other older Speedo wearers --- including Mr. "I love my leopard print undies" -- are just shipmates on the Admiral's Cruise of Love. We have been here days and I have never seen the Admiral clothed in anything other than this outfit. (I'd also like to add I have never seen the Admiral clothed in anything less than this, just in case the rumors of my love for the Admiral go international.)
4. Yesterday, at the recommendation of friends, we went on a boat/cave junket. It was pretty awesome. It was an all day affair, starting before noon and getting us back by 9 pm. Loved it. Gorgeous scenary, like "Lost," with the jutting rocks and the beaches and trees. (We discussed how we'd do if we were stranded there like "Lost." Answer: Jordo would be well liked by the fellow islanders. I would be burned as a witch.) We got to canoe on our own, jump off the top of the two story boat and into the Andaman Sea, avoid jellyfish, see some caves where the tops were so narrow at times that we had to lie back in our canoe and visit others so cavernous that we could chat with bats squeaking from the ceiling. (No vampire bats, our guides assured us ahead of time, but like that would have been a problem.) As it got dark, we worked with our guide, Max, to make an offering to the water god, constructing it of banana leaf and tree, yellow carnations and purple orchids, three pieces of incense for Budda, his monks and his holy book, and candles. We let these offerings free after dark in an inlet, reachable by cave, that was surrounded by steep mountain walls. Our offerings, floating with all the others, was so beautiful. Very peaceful. On our way back through the cave, we splashed the water to see the plankton glow like fireflies. Jordo noted that because it was so cloudy we didn't have any stars in the sky. I said they were in the sea.
5. Throughout this trip, my traveling companion has taken to referring to himself as "J-Dog" and in the third person, as in "J-Dog doesn't roll that way" or "J-Dog can't help but be popular with the ladies" or, one of my favorites, "That's now how J-Dog does." (Wrong. On so many levels.) J-Dog started this campaign on the plane to Tokyo and had said it would stop when we landed. It has not. We leave for Hanoi tomorrow and I was reading in our guidebook about the "exotic" foods the Vietnamese eat, which includes dogs. Fair warning, J-Dog.
More later!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Phuket
After running all around Bangkok we finally reached the lazy beach portion of this trip. Phuket, an island on the central east side of Thailand, appears to be ground zero for Russian and Australian tourists.
The flight here, while short, at least provided the possiblity of our first real sex tourist sighting. Unfortunately it wasn't.
Right across the aisle from us was an australian guy, 50's, heavy set chatting up a Thai girl who couldn't have been more than 20 years old. Chatting up is probably incorrect, he did all of the talking and I didn't hear her say more than one word. He kept going on about his weight loss plans (needed) and that he doesn't talk to his daughter anymore (which makes sense, since he was probably hitting on all of her friends).
Immediately we were shocked. We had figured the sex tourist thing was sort of a one shot deal at a brothel or something, not a situation where you fly some young Thai girl to a resort getaway and force her to listen to you drone on about your previous trips to Phuket. All sorts of etiquette question arose. Do you pay for both flight? What about meals, do you get her something at the airport or just rely on the airplane food? What about bags, can she bring an extra over the 2 bag limit? Do you pay for that too?
Sadly are hopes were dashed when we realized at the end of the flight that while he may very well be a sex tourish, she was just some poor Thai girl stuck next to him on the flight. He offered her his phone number which she dutifully listened to and appeared to ask him to repeat, all the while never writing it down.
After the bad sleep in Bangkok, we both came down with a little bit of sickness, so have spent most of the paast two days lazing at the pool and drinking Orange Squash. It's not squash, but rather some orange juice concentrate that you add water to until it tastes, well, a little more like orange juice.
We're off to the beach town of Patong tonight, which promises to be kind of like the jersey shore, just more australians and transvestites/transsexuals.
The flight here, while short, at least provided the possiblity of our first real sex tourist sighting. Unfortunately it wasn't.
Right across the aisle from us was an australian guy, 50's, heavy set chatting up a Thai girl who couldn't have been more than 20 years old. Chatting up is probably incorrect, he did all of the talking and I didn't hear her say more than one word. He kept going on about his weight loss plans (needed) and that he doesn't talk to his daughter anymore (which makes sense, since he was probably hitting on all of her friends).
Immediately we were shocked. We had figured the sex tourist thing was sort of a one shot deal at a brothel or something, not a situation where you fly some young Thai girl to a resort getaway and force her to listen to you drone on about your previous trips to Phuket. All sorts of etiquette question arose. Do you pay for both flight? What about meals, do you get her something at the airport or just rely on the airplane food? What about bags, can she bring an extra over the 2 bag limit? Do you pay for that too?
Sadly are hopes were dashed when we realized at the end of the flight that while he may very well be a sex tourish, she was just some poor Thai girl stuck next to him on the flight. He offered her his phone number which she dutifully listened to and appeared to ask him to repeat, all the while never writing it down.
After the bad sleep in Bangkok, we both came down with a little bit of sickness, so have spent most of the paast two days lazing at the pool and drinking Orange Squash. It's not squash, but rather some orange juice concentrate that you add water to until it tastes, well, a little more like orange juice.
We're off to the beach town of Patong tonight, which promises to be kind of like the jersey shore, just more australians and transvestites/transsexuals.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Protest Thai Style
So far we have wandered around: 1. the garrison of protesters taking over the government building, 2. the euro travel street (now named Bourbon Street Thailand by Nat) and 3. the Patpong sex district. Only the first one was worth seeing.
Natalie already did a good job describing the kindness of the protesters but I wanted to add a couple of things.
First, they are insanely clean. Everywhere we walked there were people eating and drinking water, but you would be hard pressed to find an empty bottle or styrofoam food container laying around the ground. In the middle of one of the speeched that everyone seemed to be paying attention to. there were still 4 or 5 people in one area sweeping the dirt off of the main walk.
Second, they were a pretty mixed bunch. Old and young seemed mixed together relatively well and if there were divisions a la Move On and ANSWER during the gulf war you couldn't tell from looking at the signs.
Finally, it's sort of a weird mix between the actions of the protesters and the opions of the folks around them. It's not a bunch of long haired hippy types protesting and the establishment folks having at best a muted response and at worst Bill O'Reily type anger. Yesterday a group of doctors refused to treat the policeman injured in the tear gas incident because of the thuggish tactics. The day before two pilots for Thai Airlines refused to fly with members of parliament on board their plane. I keep trying to imagine what would have happened if people had taken over Capitol Hill and then there was a mini-scale riot just trying to push them back to the grounds they had already been holding for a month. Hard to see public opinion (much less doctors and pilots putting their jobs on the line) on the side of the protesters.
Natalie already did a good job describing the kindness of the protesters but I wanted to add a couple of things.
First, they are insanely clean. Everywhere we walked there were people eating and drinking water, but you would be hard pressed to find an empty bottle or styrofoam food container laying around the ground. In the middle of one of the speeched that everyone seemed to be paying attention to. there were still 4 or 5 people in one area sweeping the dirt off of the main walk.
Second, they were a pretty mixed bunch. Old and young seemed mixed together relatively well and if there were divisions a la Move On and ANSWER during the gulf war you couldn't tell from looking at the signs.
Finally, it's sort of a weird mix between the actions of the protesters and the opions of the folks around them. It's not a bunch of long haired hippy types protesting and the establishment folks having at best a muted response and at worst Bill O'Reily type anger. Yesterday a group of doctors refused to treat the policeman injured in the tear gas incident because of the thuggish tactics. The day before two pilots for Thai Airlines refused to fly with members of parliament on board their plane. I keep trying to imagine what would have happened if people had taken over Capitol Hill and then there was a mini-scale riot just trying to push them back to the grounds they had already been holding for a month. Hard to see public opinion (much less doctors and pilots putting their jobs on the line) on the side of the protesters.
Zev
Yesterday we ventured out of the city, taking a tour to one of the floating markets and seeing a show in a traditional "Thai village" although it was a totally set up village for tourists. Lots of fun and good shopping and adventures to be had by one and all.
The bus already filled with people picked us up at our hotel in the early morning and headed into the countryside. Our guide filled us in on what we were passing, but it seemed like she only knew the word for "right" so everything was on the "righthand side." I was looking out the window, thinking, "Wait a minute. There's nothing on the right. But there seems to be something similar to what she's describing on the left. Does she want us to keep looking right until we circumnavigate the globe and turn up left?" (Jordo was listening to his ipod during this ride so he missed it but I filled him in later while I was climbing a coconut tree. Listening carefully to the guide, he concluded she was saying "left" sometimes but it sounded like, "ref" so the r-sound was throwing me off.)
Our fellow travelers were a mildly interesting bunch, including a group of three we called the "Romanian Dance Team" (RDT), which appeared to featured two parents and a daughter but whose relationships with each other were clouded later in the trip. (On the ride back to Bangkok, the alleged father and daughter were holding hands in a way I've never held my father's fand. "Dad" also kissed "daughter" fondly at one point during the ride.)
But the most memorable fellow tourist was Zev.
Zev was from Israel. He was travelling with a blond woman wearing sweatpants that said "Brasil" across the butt. He was completely bald, tall and husky, but in shape. He seemed a bit too suave for school.
We, of course, concluded he was Mossad and spent the rest of the day trip 1) trying to determine his mission and 2) thinking up ways to trip him up so he'd blow his cover: "Wow, Zev, check out that guy over there with the 'I (heart) Iran's Revolutionary Guard' shirt. Kinda crazy, eh? Where would someone buy one of those?" Then when Zev followed the man into the bathroomm then emerged smiling moments later while he put an "Out of Order" sign on the door, we'd know.)
Everything Zev did, we tried to tie back to his days fighting terrorists for his home state. When we met people with snakes around their necks who offered to let us hold the pythons for a small fee, Zev got as freaked out as someone with his military training would allow themselves to get. He walked away from the snakes while his companion laughed and kept saying, "Oh, give him the snake. He likes snakes" while Zev shook his head and, probably, readied the knife in his pocket. Jordo and I pondered this fear: Earlier mission gone awry? Overemphasis with Indiana Jones?
When we talked to Zev, he told us of the many places he'd visited in the US, including both coasts and Las Vegas, which kept us busy trying to remember if any world leaders had been assassinated lately in any of those places. He told us he lived outside Tel Aviv, but note he didn't say exactly where.
You have to be careful if you're Zev.
Jordo wondered if the woman with Zev was his wife and I guessed it was his girlfriend, partially because high-flying James Bond types don't have wives and, if they did, they left them at home to take care of the house while they toured the world with their dalliances. (Sorry, I'm standing in the way of your jet-setting lifestyle of espionage, Jordo.) We then turned her into one of Zev's missions: Her Brasil-loving pants revealed her familiarity with South America, her blonder than blond hair meant she could have been of German descent. Could Zev's relationship with her be part of a long-running mission to bring the woman's Nazi father to justice? "He's just like Eric Bana in that movie," Jordo whispered to me at one point, referring to "Munich."
Zev, of course, was completely unaware of our wackiness and did not notice the way we followed him around the Thai village. As we prepared to watch a Muy Thai and dance performance, we realized we had to move into the center seating area, but to do so would have put us right next to Zev. "He'll think we're following him," J said, even though we were. We chose to sit a few rows behind Zev and Eva Braun, amazed he even let someone sit in his blind spot.
When we parted with Zev, he told us he was leaving the city to go to the north of Thailand. God knows what will happen there. Please note:
Zev arrives in Bangkok = Formerly peaceful protest turns deadly and violent.
Zev goes to Northern Thailand = Myanmar border skirmishes? Declaration of war with Cambodia?
Stay tuned.
Fortunately, we are leaving today and heading south for the beach area of Phuket, which promises to be calm and soothing, even if it was hit by the tsunami. At least Zev won't be there.
But I wonder where he was in December 2004.
The bus already filled with people picked us up at our hotel in the early morning and headed into the countryside. Our guide filled us in on what we were passing, but it seemed like she only knew the word for "right" so everything was on the "righthand side." I was looking out the window, thinking, "Wait a minute. There's nothing on the right. But there seems to be something similar to what she's describing on the left. Does she want us to keep looking right until we circumnavigate the globe and turn up left?" (Jordo was listening to his ipod during this ride so he missed it but I filled him in later while I was climbing a coconut tree. Listening carefully to the guide, he concluded she was saying "left" sometimes but it sounded like, "ref" so the r-sound was throwing me off.)
Our fellow travelers were a mildly interesting bunch, including a group of three we called the "Romanian Dance Team" (RDT), which appeared to featured two parents and a daughter but whose relationships with each other were clouded later in the trip. (On the ride back to Bangkok, the alleged father and daughter were holding hands in a way I've never held my father's fand. "Dad" also kissed "daughter" fondly at one point during the ride.)
But the most memorable fellow tourist was Zev.
Zev was from Israel. He was travelling with a blond woman wearing sweatpants that said "Brasil" across the butt. He was completely bald, tall and husky, but in shape. He seemed a bit too suave for school.
We, of course, concluded he was Mossad and spent the rest of the day trip 1) trying to determine his mission and 2) thinking up ways to trip him up so he'd blow his cover: "Wow, Zev, check out that guy over there with the 'I (heart) Iran's Revolutionary Guard' shirt. Kinda crazy, eh? Where would someone buy one of those?" Then when Zev followed the man into the bathroomm then emerged smiling moments later while he put an "Out of Order" sign on the door, we'd know.)
Everything Zev did, we tried to tie back to his days fighting terrorists for his home state. When we met people with snakes around their necks who offered to let us hold the pythons for a small fee, Zev got as freaked out as someone with his military training would allow themselves to get. He walked away from the snakes while his companion laughed and kept saying, "Oh, give him the snake. He likes snakes" while Zev shook his head and, probably, readied the knife in his pocket. Jordo and I pondered this fear: Earlier mission gone awry? Overemphasis with Indiana Jones?
When we talked to Zev, he told us of the many places he'd visited in the US, including both coasts and Las Vegas, which kept us busy trying to remember if any world leaders had been assassinated lately in any of those places. He told us he lived outside Tel Aviv, but note he didn't say exactly where.
You have to be careful if you're Zev.
Jordo wondered if the woman with Zev was his wife and I guessed it was his girlfriend, partially because high-flying James Bond types don't have wives and, if they did, they left them at home to take care of the house while they toured the world with their dalliances. (Sorry, I'm standing in the way of your jet-setting lifestyle of espionage, Jordo.) We then turned her into one of Zev's missions: Her Brasil-loving pants revealed her familiarity with South America, her blonder than blond hair meant she could have been of German descent. Could Zev's relationship with her be part of a long-running mission to bring the woman's Nazi father to justice? "He's just like Eric Bana in that movie," Jordo whispered to me at one point, referring to "Munich."
Zev, of course, was completely unaware of our wackiness and did not notice the way we followed him around the Thai village. As we prepared to watch a Muy Thai and dance performance, we realized we had to move into the center seating area, but to do so would have put us right next to Zev. "He'll think we're following him," J said, even though we were. We chose to sit a few rows behind Zev and Eva Braun, amazed he even let someone sit in his blind spot.
When we parted with Zev, he told us he was leaving the city to go to the north of Thailand. God knows what will happen there. Please note:
Zev arrives in Bangkok = Formerly peaceful protest turns deadly and violent.
Zev goes to Northern Thailand = Myanmar border skirmishes? Declaration of war with Cambodia?
Stay tuned.
Fortunately, we are leaving today and heading south for the beach area of Phuket, which promises to be calm and soothing, even if it was hit by the tsunami. At least Zev won't be there.
But I wonder where he was in December 2004.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Where we work
Since Natalie is composing some sort of awesome opus next to me as a check debate stuff on the web, I'll avoid the tally of the day.
For the past three days we have been doing our interneting at a little place up the street from our hotel (which despite their claims does not offer free internet, well unless "free" means $5 hour).
We entered some sort of monthlong school holiday where all of the other patrons are boys under the age of 15. All are sitting around, wearing headphones and playing world of warcraft with each other. Apparently this is a big game in Thailand because last night the local espn channel showed the World of Warcraft World (?) championships during prime time.
There is one kid though, who may at best be 8 years old and when he sits in the chair in front of his computer his legs can't touch the floor. All he does is sit there with headphones on playing some version of Mario Kart and giggling. He has done this now both times since we have been here and when we came in today we didn't see him. Sure enough about 15 minutes later we hear the same giggle/scream from the other room. He's back on the racetrack.
Sorry we haven't gotten more picture up, but we don't have a flash drive yet. Will try and add more graphics as we can.
For the past three days we have been doing our interneting at a little place up the street from our hotel (which despite their claims does not offer free internet, well unless "free" means $5 hour).
We entered some sort of monthlong school holiday where all of the other patrons are boys under the age of 15. All are sitting around, wearing headphones and playing world of warcraft with each other. Apparently this is a big game in Thailand because last night the local espn channel showed the World of Warcraft World (?) championships during prime time.
There is one kid though, who may at best be 8 years old and when he sits in the chair in front of his computer his legs can't touch the floor. All he does is sit there with headphones on playing some version of Mario Kart and giggling. He has done this now both times since we have been here and when we came in today we didn't see him. Sure enough about 15 minutes later we hear the same giggle/scream from the other room. He's back on the racetrack.
Sorry we haven't gotten more picture up, but we don't have a flash drive yet. Will try and add more graphics as we can.
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