Dad’s Dog Doesn’t Live Here

I have always loved dogs. They are playful, fun, cute, and happy in that innocent way that only occurs through gracious naivety. They are companions for all. Due to natures pack mentality they are loyal, sometimes to the point of worthy trust. They have been dubbed “man’s best friend” for these traits. People have enjoyed the companionship of dogs for centuries. They are a good pet, fully domesticated to life alongside humans.

My father also has always loved dogs. When he was a boy he had a dog named Max, a big farm dog who loved to romp and play with my father. I recall my dad telling me stories of swimming with Max, running with him, and just plain being a boyhood friend with the kind beast. Throughout my childhood whenever I would see my father around a dog his mood would lighten and his eyes, expression, and voice would go soft. He has always had a soft spot for a good dog. But Dad’s dog doesn’t live in Bangkok.

I have said jokingly that the population of Bangkok is about 8-12 million not counting the dogs but the population is at least 20 million if you count all the dogs that live on the street. We call them soi dogs because “soi” is Thai for “street”. Any street in Bangkok has roughly (and with no exaggeration I might add) one soi dog for every 20 ft of road. They can be found lying under carts, walking across the road, scratching for bugs, and even scavenging through the garbage. They are not a pretty site. Most of them are bug-infested which is painfully obvious as you observe them constantly scratching and chewing at their fur. They have sores and unhealed injuries. It is very difficult to take in.

I come from a country where most dogs are a part of a home with loving owners and regular food. They have nice fur, wagging tails, and think only of eating, sleeping, and playing. Their masters are to be pandered after for attention and signs of acceptance. They are loyal, cute, and kind. Bangkok has these dogs too. They are the ones kept as pets by wealthy people, but this accounts for only a small fraction of the dogs. The grand majority of the dogs in Bangkok live on the street and fend for themselves by whatever means necessary, striking their turf, arranging into packs, and growling at other dogs who trespass.

For the most part they are harmless. They move about sulkily and are generally apathetic towards humans (except for those irritating ones that chase me when I run in the mornings – man I hate those dogs). But generally they only want to get by. They don’t wag their tails or romp and play, they just want to find some food and a place to lie down. They are the defeated. They are not looking for a conquest, just lunch.

When I first observed these animals my heart went out to them and I felt terrible for their plight. As time went on I realized that it is all part of a much larger picture. Not that the situation seemed better, it just seemed in perspective of a larger situation, one that didn’t mean any direct malice to the poor creatures, it is all merely a side-effect of how life works here. But soon I saw there were some small-scale answers to some of the problems that the soi dogs faced. They all tend to stake out their territory and mind each others boundaries, so they all get their piece of the leftover pie. Then the people in each of these territories seem to do their own part to allow the dogs access to certain prime trash. People actually seem to separate some of the better compostable food waste from the other trash in order to provide for the soi dogs. In fact, some people even seem to adopt the dogs to a point of bringing food for them purchased and transported by loving hands. On their way to work they might find an extra 3 Baht to buy a pad of rice and then deliver it to the mangy k-9. These dogs subserviently wait each day for this delivery and even might give their tail a single wag showing they are experiencing a little piece of light in their day.

Seeing acts of kindness to those that are the least is heartening. Perhaps Buddhists feel the need to take care of all towards a higher moral purpose. Maybe they are simply caching in on karma. Or they just might be decent people with big hearts and giving souls. For whatever the reason is I respect the wellbeing that I see. In a country where far too many people are in search of leading a good life, there is still some room in the peoples hearts for the soi dogs.

People in Thailand say “mai pen rai” or “no worries” quite a lot. I think part of the reason is that existence goes on like an eternal game of chess. All the players are on the board. Some will be sacrificed in the name of others but the team that wins is the one that uses all the players together for later strategies to come to term. The people here are not proclaiming to understand the game of life or how it ought to be played but they are at least trying to preserve the players and coexist together. Mai pen rai; why sacrifice a piece on the board, just coexist and the world will go on, no worries. The soi dogs may be merely pawns amidst the larger scheme of Bangkok but even the pawns serve to protect the King.

*Note: Why are there no pictures in this blog you may ask? Because the soi dogs are not pretty. I omitted many of the grisly details of their various disfigurements and visible ailments and to add pictures would only spoil any positive nature of this blog.

The Big Payday

It was payday and we were in need of some items from the store. Little did we know but payday is not just an event here in Thailand, in a way, it is the event. In Canada payday is commonly on a Friday. One Friday half of society gets their pay and on the other Friday the other half gets theirs. It seems like a nice egalitarian way of taking turns at wealth. Everyone gets their time in the “I have money” sun before reality once again puts them in their place until the next day of pay. Then as a person jumps up the scales of their career they may ascend to the monthly pay-scale called “salary”. Those that ascend to this level are assumed to be professionals and thus also capable of budgeting past the bleakness of the bi-weekly payday, and so, can survive on a thirty-day rotation.

But here in Thailand, it appears, everyone is paid at the end of the month (not just the salary-paid, responsible, elite). I don’t know this for a fact, but observation does agree. At the end of every month there is a day or two in which every store, local business, and the humming of the markets in the street itself are in full bloom. Everyone moves about like bees with flowers, floating from one thing to the next without a care in the world, spreading their influence and unknowingly causing the procreation of all that is around them. In this manner every local market grows at one time, gathering strength for the oncoming month until the next monthly payday for all who are Thai.

Cheryl and I ventured into the store in search of our daily items. The first stop was at the bank machine where we found incredible line-ups with no sense of personal space for all involved. Then the store itself was yet another sardine can of fun. It was crammed from shelf to shelf, aisle to aisle with bustling, grabbing, and voracious shoppers. You would have thought it was Canadian Tire the day before Y2K. People were moving in mob-like fashion, weaving through each other like fish caught in a net. Items were not removed from shelves they were claimed into possession and coveted by those left gaping.

I was in awe of the event. I felt that I was once again witness to one of the many things that make this the “amazing Thailand” that tourism claims it to be. It was truly awesome and I was amazed. Why would the economy function purely on a monthly basis? Does that not slow the public consumption for two weeks at a time, or is it a strategy at encouraging mass consumption during the initial two weeks of each month? In either event, I once again felt I was sitting on the meridian and observing the crazy drivers at work. I think I will take care of my future shopping prior to the end of the month; I might be another driver on the highway of life, but I just don’t like driving that crazy.

Merry Christmas to Everyone

It's that magical time again of giving, and receiving, and hugging, and eating, and presents under the tree...etc., etc.

But we are in Thailand! Yes, Christmas does happen in Thailand, however, there is no snow or snowmen, no carols or crappy Christmas pageants, and no two-thousand-year-old miracles. The Christmas star is blotted out by the crimson glow of the Bangkok skyline as it reflects across the smog hovering over the 8 million Buddhists snug in their air-controlled bedrooms.

There are Christians in Bangkok. Apparently Thailand is ten percent Christian, although they are a rather invisible ten percent it appers. Although I did see some decorations up downtown last night, but perhaps that was more for the purpose of attracting shoppers. Perhaps some things are still like home.

But where is the snowfall and all the other things taken for granted? I want to hear people say "Merry Christmas" to perfect strangers and actually mean it. Christmas in Canada always seems to bring out just a smidgen of goodness in people. They really hope those around them will have a merry Christmas. Maybe Jesus isn't as on the scene as some of us would like and perhaps we have stationed the holiday closer to a pagan ritual than the actual date of his birth and maybe marketing is a tighter issue than the induction of a human bridge to the almighty, but the spirit still lives on. People still feel that urgent tug in their heart. They give the paperboy a few extra dollars, they bake cookies for the neighbourhood kids that they otherwise don't find so cute, they snuggle close to the fire and think Norman Rockwell wishes to all their loved ones.

Christmas is an ideal that we aspire to. It is an idea of wellbeing and good will, of giving one's self to others and getting something in return even though it was not necessary that it be so. I personally am far more excited to give the gifts than recieve (but, hey, who's complaining about receiving?). I too, wish my family well and miss them so dearly in my heart during this time of thanks.

Even those who claim cinicism for Christmas do so usually out of spite. Scrooge was pissy because noone liked him. The Grinch was also angry because he had no friends. But each of them had the Tiny Tim, or little reindeer dog that opened the door for them to walk through, but it was their hearts that provided the final impetus for giving in to the customs of the season. But the CBC will not be airing the Grinch who stole Christmas in Bangkok this year. And most of my family will not be around the table arguing over the last piece of pumpkin pie (like there's ever a need to, Grandma always made three or more pies). I will miss the Christmas table, the tree, the snow, and the relatives that I share my blood, my heart, and my life with. They are all special to me and so is Christmas(Wow, is this ever getting sappy).

Why am I blogging about this? Because I miss my family and Jesus' birthday makes my smile when I think of them. Merry Ho Ho everybody!

I'm Not Selling Anything (unless you're buying that is)

Markets are a means of promoting small commerce. People come up with small items others would like to purchase and through doing so a dollar is turned, a dollar is earned. It is idealistic and supports an ongoing system of monetary movement. This creates a flow of money from which all involved may benefit.

Thailand has been said to be the “Entrepreneurial Kingdom” because not only is it one of the last remaining large-scale somewhat legitimate kingdoms left on planet Earth, it is also the host country of markets on all levels. In North America a market is usually some small-scale event organized to temporarily promote an event or a local cabin industry. The events are festive and the profits are nice to the people that make them, but usually, they are not a pure means of subsistence. In Thailand markets are just that; a means of subsistent living. And without that means of subsistence, the society of Thailand might fall.

As is popular throughout history a society will exist until there ceases to be a middle class. Once this class disappears either the economy falls for the rich or the working class rises against the upper crust. In either event it can be expected that a government will change hands, business will evolve, and somehow people will find themselves either sinking or swimming in the aftermath. This is life on planet Earth. And p.s….the Thai government fell last year. So it goes.

There is no middle-class in Thailand. I’m not sure what happened to it. Maybe it never existed in the first place. After all, history in Asia has shown many instances of lords and peasants with little place for the middle-man. Although, I have heard that there was a massive fall in the economy during the late 90’s, which might account for some of the vast difference between the classes. It appears that in Thailand you are either very poor or exceedingly rich. You drive a cranky old motorcycle, or a shiny new Mercedes complete with adjustable seats and a DVD for the kids. You eat rice with chicken parts or you get fat at Pizza Hut. There is no in-between. Either you’re a starbelly sneetch one with no stars on thars (Dr. Suess, Sneetches on Beeches).

When looking from our balcony one can see a mansion complete with walled enclosure to keep the rest of the world out, and directly next door to it, in fact leaning against the very wall itself, is a shanty-town of the forgotten class. There is no in-between. The space between the shanty and the wall is roughly the same size as the middle-class in Thailand; small to none and being pressed between the upper and lower pressures.

Markets are the glue that hold the economy together here in Thailand. They are the path through which we all may walk. They open up commerce between those with enough to provide and those who wish to possess. They are a means of making a dollar and then turning it over for necessities, and this dollar might even have the power to move up or down in the chain of economic command. To hasten this, the government does not impose much for taxes and indirectly allows for a lot of economic loopholes through which people can make informal money independent of a crushing larger infrastructure. It works out well in the end doesn’t it? The poor can bind together to create markets that may then provide for the rich. As well, the rich then purchase from the poor and help to support the tradition and strength of the working class. It becomes a form of subsistence for the society itself. Moa Zedong showed that Southeast Asia can survive under the formation of both a formal and informal market economy. It is by this that classes can exchange both independently and interdependently.

It makes me think of the story my father once told me about a thousand dollar bill that entrusted to an individual who then proceeds to spend it. The bill gets exchanged around a local market from one hand to the next until it lands with the original holder. Upon return of the bill this person finds out the thousand dollar bill is a fake, and yet, who lost money? Everyone was still able to purchase with the money so long as everyone agreed upon its worth. In this manner all money gets passed and in its path come the riches, just merely perceived.

Not every dollar (or baht as the case may be) gets recorded and therein lies the answer. Some patriotics with North America on the brain will surely say, “But what about the social systems provided by the government? Who pays for those if these so called ‘informal markets’ aren’t recording their profits and paying proper taxes?” Well to such a person I remind that in Thailand there aren’t social systems such as in North America. Here in Thailand people are generally expected to look after themselves and their own without benefit of free education, healthcare, and/or welfare. By giving the working class a break on the market, the government allows a laissez-faire approach of allowing the economy to balance itself through good old-fashioned determinism.

I am not saying any one system is better than the other but from the position I’m in there is a lot to think about. Cultural perspective is a fascinating view. At times I feel I am sitting on a meridian during rush-hour traffic: I can’t figure out which direction is the better one for cars to travel in but I am certain that everyone in the vehicles must be mad.

We are Full of Sickness (but a little delirium is nice)

Homesickness is indeed an illness. I don’t care what anyone says, it is an illness. It takes the energy out of your stride. It makes one listless and apathetic. It makes getting out of bed difficult. It makes a person uncomfortable and wanting of something to comfort them that is ultimately out of their reach. I am certain that if I were to look in a mirror now I would surely be pale and I’m sure my colour will return once I am in Canada

Cheryl and I have been longing for the shores of Canada. We miss our family, our friends, and our culture. It has become a mix of things really. Part of it is a longing for the country of our origin and part of it is loathing for certain qualities (or lack of) in our surroundings. Every now and then the smell smog, soi dogs, the smell of dirty oil cooking on a cart and filling a street full of acrid smoke, and of course the open sewers of Bangkok make me wish I were amidst the clean air of Canada. When I run in the morning I am chased by dogs and smell the garbage that was tossed into the street over one week prior and I wish for the sanitation and salutations of my fellow Canadians.

However, I am certain that once we are home the vice versa effect will come into full swing and we will say things like “I wish we could still get a delicious lunch around the corner for under a dollar” or “Do you think I can convince the 7-11 to make me a fruit smoothie for 30 cents?”. These are things in abundance here in Thailand that will never be in Canada. We will miss the inexpensive luxuries, and the exotic sites and foods. We will especially miss the beaches of southern Thailand and the traveling to the island of Koh Chang on the weekends. We will even miss the general hubbub of the bustling overcrowded city and the delightful cultural misunderstandings that are the basis for so many experiences. We will miss Thailand.

As well, although we will be so happy to be home amidst the illusion of common sense and decency and the aloof kindness and honesty that us Canadians are so well known for, we will then flip the proverbial coin and complain of things such as the cold. The winter will descend upon us with a ferocity that we will have forgotten over our time overseas for we are now climatized to the brazen temperate climate of the tropics. We no longer sweat in plus thirty-five and we put on a sweater when the temperature dares to drop below twenty-eight. We are now spoiled tropic-dwellers in need of some freezer-burn to harden into hearty Canadians once again.

Wait a minute. I think typing this entry has helped me to appreciate something. All you suckers are way over on the wrong side of the rock right now. You are all wearing long underwear, coats, toques, mittens, and double socks. You are cold frozen with your cars plugged in and your gas bills rising. We, on the other hand, have plans to fly to Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, and multiple trips to a tropical beach. Thank you my readers in Canada. Due to relative difference you have comforted me. I am no longer homesick, I am self-righteous in my indulgences. Perhaps I am forgetting the soft-spoken manner of being a Canadian. I will just have to soak up the sun until the hard life of Canada reminds me of my humble roots once again. In the meantime, I will consider peity to be simply the act of eating dessert.

*Post writing this blog Cheryl and I spent this previous weekend, once again, on the beautiful island of Koh Chang which has the place we are calling our favourite on Earth. The pictures included are from this previous weekend (sunset c/o of Cheryl's photo finger). We are still homesick, but are now more thankful for the tropics than sick about home. But, Christmas is around the corner and distance does make a heart grow fungus.

British Fair on the River Bangkok

Cheryl and I attended a British festival this weekend. The festival is an annual fundraiser for the needy taking place at a private school in the heart of Bangkok. The whole event was wonderful. There was a market, games, kiddy rides, book sales, magicians, terrible cover bands, international foods, international beer, and way too many limeys in one place at one time. The festival was festive and the festivities were fun.

We took a cab down to the river and then caught the free boat along the canals which took us straight to a dock beside the festival and then the festivities began. We shopped, played games, ate fish & chips and listened to British chatter amidst cider drinking. The children enjoyed the scary clowns and free candy samples whilst the parents enjoyed overpriced shopping and underpriced food, drink, and entertainment.

We quickly noticed that the school hosting the event was very upscale when compared to our current employer. We also noticed that all the upscale schools in Bangkok were present there hoping to coax future students to attend. But what’s a festival without the corporate sponsors anyhow.

We freely enjoyed and spent money as most of the proceeds were destined for philanthropomorphic causes. The entire event was fun complete with balloons and smiling faces. It sort of brought me back home as it was like so many festivals I have attended in Canada. I guess fun is a universal thing whether your Thai, British, or even British in Thailand.

Long Live the King

Cheryl and I were just witness to one of the greatest events that people can have; of utter unity and togetherness in the face of something larger than ourselves.

Today is the King of Thailand’s 80th birthday. Everyone, and I mean everyone in Thailand celebrated the event. Cheryl and I were on our way home from dinner when we noticed the street filling with our neighbors around a shrine for the King with a tv set on the side. On the set was the event happening in downtown Bangkok. The event was at least a million people bordering on the multi-million and everyone was there to honour and respect the one and only King of Thailand.

Within a minute of our arrival we were warmly welcomed with the respect of locals. They were happy to share their glory of the holiday with us. There were candles offered to us, “Love King” exchanges, photographs taken, and all round brotherly love and togetherness as people gathered and sang in honour of the symbol of wellbeing and goodness that is the King of Thailand.

The event was so heartwarming. It made me think of the cherished event of a religious awakening when goodness abounds within the heart to the point of instant community and good wishes. The people of Thailand have come together on this day to celebrate a unity that can only happen behind the rallying of a common image and grace that is a King. As a major of history at the University of Winnipeg I have heard of and studied kings but only now do I begin to understand the grace and unity that is a king. The people of Thailand have taught me something this day and for that I thank them. God bless the King of Thailand. Long live the King.

*Read about the event in the Bangkok Post
http://www.readbangkokpost.com/articles/hmbday.php

A Short Tail About Cats

Of course we have all heard the popular old saying “Curiosity killed the cat.” but here in Thailand that might actually be the truth.

Back home in Canada it is always said that cats have nine lives and it usually seems true. I know our cat Norman has definitely had his own amount of close calls that by all rites should have been the end of him. One such event that comes to mind is falling through the ceiling in my father-in-laws basement (long story). It almost seems like the fates are on the side of preserving a cats life despite all the stupid attempts at death they seem to make.

Cats in Thailand just might have a few less lives than the cats back home. Perhaps it’s the fact that there are at least several million soi dogs living on the streets of Bangkok, or maybe its because people just aren’t as forgiving to cats here. Or perhaps there is some secret Chinese cult that thrives of devouring unsuspecting felines. Anyhow, for some reason there are far less cats than dogs on the streets of Bangkok.

There is one clue however as to why there are fewer cats. All cats in Thailand seem to have two things in common. The first thing is that they are all much smaller than cats back home. I would think this is a survival tactic similar to why many turtles in a tank refuse to grow large. The second thing they hold common is that they all have very short tails. But not just stubby tails as if they have shed them in lizard fashion to some would-be predator, I mean short in the manner of disfigurement.

I used to wonder why it was that all the cats in Thailand seem to have disfigured tails as if they had all been mysteriously frozen off or they had all simultaneously become victims of rocking chairs. But then I spied the common danger to a cats tail; speeding motorcycles.

If I haven’t already mentioned in previous blogs there are a very large number of motorcycles in Thailand. Gasoline is expensive here as it is everywhere on Earth and traffic is definitely in the epidemic phase of development, therefore most people travel by motorcycle. This results in an awful lot of short tail sources for the cats.

Imagine this all from a cats perspective. I recall the figure of speech “You look more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” Well, imagine what a street in Bangkok must look like to a curious cat. First they have to worry about the fact that there are 9.5 puss-encrusted, scraped up, desperate, soi dogs for every 1 cat in Bangkok. Then the cat has to consider that there might be a chinese cult lurking somewhere hoping to cleanse their spirits by consuming a kitty. Then there are the motorcycles. The machines that, to a cat, would be like a rocking chair equipped with an engine, a firecracker, and little piece of Hell on Earth. Then the fact that there is about 1 motorcycle for every person in Bangkok (roughly 15 million). This all couples together for one scared kitty amidst a sea of danger. And, every cat has obviously had at least one near death experience with a motorcycle as is painfully obvious by the look of their tails. But with nine lives, what are the odds they will ever learn. Besides, in Thailand, nine is rucky number.

*Note: Speaking of cats in Bangkok. Here is a somewhat current picture of our cat Norman taken by Tina and Terry (who are graciously caring and loving our cat in Winnipeg). We think he is now big enough that he could eat a Thai cat for breakfast.

Caution: Spirits Within

Bangkok is one large city. Many times in the past I have heard of such towering metropolis’ referred to as “concrete jungles”. A jungle, like any ecosystem, is in a mosaic state of life, in a constant interdependent flow of cyclical relations of life, death, and then new life. Cities likewise build, crumble, and then rebuild. But amidst the aspiring towers and aging giants of the Bangkok skyline are structures that are neither falling, nor rising. These are simply abandoned. But someone is said to live in those buildings.

A vacant building or home is a place of lore. Everyone either knows or has heard of a place that is vacant and said to be haunted. There seems to be an erie aura to a dwelling where noone lives. All that remains is what may have once been a home and the spirits of what has passed.

Spirits and ghosts are present in folklore of most cultures. Everyone seeks the answer to the question of what happens when they die. People in Thailand also harbor beliefs of beyond the grave. Spirits are said to inhabit the Earth and watch those in the waking life. Our ancestors are watching and listening, so say the Thai’s. They build spirit houses outside of their own homes so the spirits will have places to stay other than the larger house within which they live. To an outsider such as myself these spirit houses seem to be bird houses elaborate as palaces or temples. I don’t pretend to fully understand this practice as I am not a devout Buddhist, however, to observe is to learn. People will offer meals of food, crack a bottle of Fanta, and burn incense at the doors of these spirit houses whilst saying forms of blessings or prayers. It appears this is an offering to their ancestors and those of others that may have chosen to occupy these spirit houses. Even in the parking lot of Tesco Lotus (a store like Walmart or Superstore) has a spirit house in the parking lot outfit complete with an offered meal and bottle soda. I suppose that keeps those pesky spirits out of the frozen food isle at least.

I originally thought that with Bangkok having such a large population there would be a shortage of housing. Especially after seeing how many people live in sheet-metal shacks, I assumed that most houses and apartments would be readily occupied. But since then I have learned it commonly believed that spirits occupy all dwellings that are left vacant for any length of time. If an apartment is not rented for the course of several months, it is readily believed that spirits have since taken over the lease so to speak and noone ventures forth to challenge the occupancy. Entire neighborhoods of houses can be found to lie mostly vacant with only the odd group of falangs or other non-believers renting a lone residence for next to no money due to the fact that the house is no longer under demand.

These spirits don’t only occupy former homes. When driving on the highway across the skyline of Bangkok one sees many buildings that have been left in the process of being built and are never to be resumed due to the belief that spirits now infest the half-erected structures. I have heard that in 1998 there was a major crash of the Thai economy causing many large building projects to become abandoned in the middle of their construction. Apparently by the time building funds were recovered it was believed that spirits had already claimed the potential revenue properties. The properties around them are worth millions with bustling businesses, offices, and high-end condo’s, but these “spirits within” buildings standing right beside them remain bereft of life. These skeletons of the concrete jungle stand there amidst their lively brothers like lone giants waiting for the life that never was, their spirits within settling like birds to a nest with no visitors arriving.

It is easy to look at cultural differences such as these and laugh bitterly at the folly of those we don’t understand but we all cross our fingers at some time or another. Perhaps many people here are superstitious of spirits, but all people are afraid of what they do not understand and that remains the source of most bitter laughter. I too have heard of haunted houses and would tend to avoid renting a place where someone came to an untimely death. And so, I hope we can all respect the spirits in their dwellings, whether or not they are truly there. I would hope that I may have such a nice home in the afterlife as many of those who remain in the spirit houses I see. Besides, what if noone serves Fanta in the afterlife?


There’s a house on my block that’s abandoned and cold
and the folks moved out of it a long time ago
and they took all their things
and they never came back
it looks like it’s haunted with the wind that’s all cracked
and everybody calls it the house, the house where nobody lives
-Tom Waits, “House Where Nobody Lives” – Mule Variations

T-B-A-O-K

I have been to the wonderful Thai hospital for another visit. The antibiotics have done the trick and they were happy to see my health was reasonable. This is a good thing, because if otherwise they were all ready to operate yesterday and all sorts of other nasty things, but, nothing required, I am healthy!

Once again the doctor, nurses, and everyone else there was very friendly, helpful, and aiming to please. My experience was pleasant and expedient with only a 30 min. wait for the results of a blood test. That sure beats the regular two-week wait back home. In fact, I told one of the nurses that in Canada it takes two weeks to gain results for blood tests. She thought that was purely silly because it is an easy and quick test. Then I explained that in Canada our health system is run on a more egalitarian basis where everyone receives equal treatment (at least in theory) and so there is a back-up in the system as opposed to just the wealthy getting quick and efficient treatment. Okay, I did say it nicer than all that, however, it is the truth. Maybe we have to wait awhile longer in Canada but at least we all get treated.

Anyhow, all tests came back negative meaning I am TB free and merely the victim of a Lymph node infection and whatever other form of illness attacked me whilst in my weakened state. I am feeling better and don’t have to quit my job or be deported. Isn’t that nice? Cheryl and I are very happy about all of this.

I know this blog is not all that eventful but I heard that some of you were getting worried about my physical state of affairs so I’m here to tell you my TB is A-okay.

Editors note: The picture above is of Borat. If you haven’t seen this film yet I urge you to do so. In my opinion he is a comic genius of the 21st century. “It’s nice!”

Juice Versus Tuberculosis

Here in Thailand I have experienced the best hospital I could ever have imagined. Not only do you receive top rate medical service but it also happens with a smile!

In Thailand the hospital is there to accommodate everyone from internal needs to mere flu bugs, not like in Canada where we have the tiered system of pharmacies, family doctors, clinics, and then the big bad emergency room. Because of everyone going to one place for all their sickly needs there is a demand for a high level of organization to see that everyone is checked through in an orderly manor. Furthermore, with the hospital being a privatized enterprise such as everything is here in Thailand, streamlined service makes the baht.

In Canada my experiences with hospitals have generally been of the not so positive type. I have personally sat in “emergency rooms” bleeding until I am weak and passing out but heaven forbid I get bumped in line in front of the kid who scraped their knee and has a loud mother angry at the nurses for allowing emergency needs to prioritize above here little treasure. I have yet to sit in an “emergency room” for under three-and-a-half-hours despite the varying levels of emergencies I have personally undergone or been present for. Furthermore, the level of attention often given is that of the minimum required in order to hasten the progress of the sick line. Although my impressions have been tainted because for many years I have not received the professional conduct of a family physician but merely that of the disgruntled inner-city orderly’s and walk-in clinics. However, the fact remains that to see a medical professional in Canada one often needs to step in line for hours, weeks, or even months. Don’t get me wrong, I am very thankful for the healthcare system of Canada but I do avoid going to a hospital at any cost due to the great inconvenience that entails. So it goes.

But…Thailand has something else in store. Phayatai hospital is bar none the nicest hospital conceivable. It is like someone built a luxury hospital complete with staff and mints on the pillow but due to some mix-up; the blue-prints were fudged, or some political event occurred, and it became a hospital. As soon as you enter there are several people waiting to assist you in any language you care to spit out. Attractive nurses ply you with welcome beverages from a cart of juices and ensure you are comfortable whilst they fill out all the paperwork for you with only the occasional question followed by a “So sorry to inconvenience you.” You may have to wait, but only until you chair has slightly been warmed and you are whisked away into a doctor’s office. The doctor’s are all very well-kept individuals with discreet and humble manors. They take all the time required and are sure to follow up any and all inquiries you may have. Indeed, it makes one feel very catered to up to the point of being pampered.

The tests take no time at all. Have you ever had liquid testing performed in the name of medical science of personal health? In Canada it always seems to take two weeks to get the results of anything back from the lab. In Thailand, however, it takes a mere 45 min. (actually it only takes 30 min. but they tell you 45 min. so you are not impatient. Isn’t that accommodating and convenient?) Once again, only enough time to warm ones chair.

The doctors make no assumptions. They patiently tell you what each count shows in your tests and tell you what it leads them to believe complete with logical conclusions and attenuating theories that may be attached. They are so thorough that it makes one feel dignified by the lofty way in which they are being treated. No nutshells, round-abouts, or dummying down; just the truth with respect. I like that.

I do not hesitate to go the hospital. Today I found out I may have Tuberculosis, but the news was delivered to me with such eloquence that I simply sat there, sipped my juice, and said “I see. What do I need to do now?” To which the doctor replied with the simple answer I requested. This is a great step up from the inner city emergency clinic doctors in Winnipeg who don’t even look at me before they assume that I am wasting their time by irresponsibly getting ill and then having the audacity of visiting their office.

I believe in the healthcare system of Canada. It is a brilliant scheme of taking care of everyone that is paralleled in few places in this world. I understand that the level of expertise I receive at Phayatai hospital are likely due to the fact that they are a top-end private enterprise (which is still incredibly cheap I might add). But it does feel nice to have a smiling nurse serve me juice instead of a snarling person asking me ‘hat the hell I thought I was doing when I hurt myself in the first place’. Although, I am also looking forward to being able to see my regular family doctor at home. He doesn’t always smile, but he knows me, keeps me healthy, and my government pays him to do just that.

p.s. I hope I don’t have tuberculosis. I mean, juice and swift service are nice but I trust the medicine in Canada more,and I don’t want to go like Doc Holiday, coughing and cursing the fact I didn’t die with my boots on.

Get Yo' Camel to Push Da' Kar

Whilst in Pushkar we went on a camel trek through the desert. When traveling in India one has to take advantage of all the opportunities available.

Pushkar was a delightful little city built around a lake that is considered holy, second only to the Ganges river itself. The lake is surrounded by ghats with steps leading down to the water front where people bathe. In fact, Cheryl was even given a holy welcome to the city upon arrival as one of the local sacred cows gave her a swift knock to the butt with it’s stubby horns. I guess even Hindu cows lose their cool sometimes.

The city itself is very small and can easily be walked around. The street surrounding the lake is a market with everything from apparel, to leather-bound books, to food items and knick knacks. The market was very intriguing and Cheryl and I spent quite a lot of time wandering and buying items for far, far less than we would ever have paid back at home.

During one of our wanderings we came across a stand advertising camel treks in the desert. We signed up for a four hour trek and awaited departure. We started our journey walking with our guide to what appeared to be fair grounds and camel track which are used for the annual camel fair in town. There we met our second guide and camel handler. The camels were very tall, with eloquent smelling breath but they did have their own grace to them. At the word of the guide I climbed on top of one seated on the ground and held on as it stiltedly ascended to its full height (roughly 9 feet or so counting its head).

Our ride started with an exit out of town. I soon noticed that my camel was protesting an awful lot to which my guide told me that he had purchased the camel only the day before and was still teaching him to ride. Of course this didn’t make me feel that easy especially with the rather vocal taunts that my camel was constantly challenging the guide with, but mai pen rai (or as people in India do, they simply bob their head from side to side meaning either “yes”, “no”, or “whatever, I simply don’t care”).

The ride was actually much smoother than I had previously anticipated. The pace of a camel is not swift but still carries a decent momentum. The movement is languid and constant. In fact, the gentle movement is almost like that of a consistent swell in the ocean, neither impatient nor unpleasant.

Soon we were out of the city and into the desert. The weather was calm and the sun seemed lazy in the sky as it began considering its descent over the far hills. Cheryl looked so in place as she was wearing a scarf around her head recently purchased in the market by the lake. Cheryl of Arabia was away on her camel! Although Cheryl did lose her persona of the desert just a little bit when her camel rode her straight into a fourteen foot cactus bush (she was a little prickly about that one).

We rode some time before the sun finally set. The image of the sun was beautiful. I kept reminding myself that I was watching the sun set in India from the back of a camel. Some things just seem so unreal sometimes that they become surreal. Although the constant “aarrrummmmp!!” sounds of protest coming from my camel usually did the trick of keeping me conscious of the immediate fact of where I was. Although I would talk back too if my handler looked so serious as this fellow.

Our guides brought us to their home where we gave the camels some time to rest and eat whilst we did likewise. We sat with the farming family and had chai tea. They tried to convince us to partake of further services such as dinner and staying the night but we stuck to what we had signed up for and were soon on our way back to town.

The stars in the desert were awe-inspiring on the way back. I never thought I would have the opportunity to stargaze in the desert whilst riding a camel. I am glad that we took the opportunity to do the fun things that we did. I would say the camel ride was the icing on the cake of India but I would say it was just one layer of the many that made the whole desert so delicious.

I Guess We Are All After Our Own Salvation. So it Goes.

My perceptions open with every new place I visit that is different than where I am from. New experiences will always serve as the catalyst from which people will learn more than they have previously known.

Thailand was an eye opener for me. I have traveled across parts of Canada many times and even made a few forays into the United States of God bless America, but have never before ventured overseas. Thailand showed me a state where there is no middle class, God works through the peoples perceptions of Buddha, and noone tells the common lie of caring for others before themselves; they simply exist with no excuses, reservations, or thin apologies…how refreshing and sincere. Of course there are other considerations to make but nutshells are nice so let’s leave it at that.

Ah, and then there is India, a land that some God a long time ago may have blessed, but since, India has risen and fallen more than a handful of times and has seen more than its share of interim gods since. The people are much like all other people of planet earth; they go about their daily bread by whatever means possible, kiss their families before they sleep at night, and try to take time to develop a personal ego. So it goes.

We all go about our lives in the way we see fit. Most of us search for and find some way to achieve our daily bread. Most of us have those we love. Most of us choose to see ourselves in a certain light in order to like ourselves and it is this light through which we subjectively view our world. India is no different, either is Thailand, either is Canada. So it goes. God bless us all.

Skipping country from Canada to Thailand was one step away from my subjective origins. Then I quietly became acclimatized whilst observing and accepting what I saw. But then to take off on the second degree of separation to India proved a further widening experience. I found people in yet another scenario of many poor versus few rich with little middle class to buffer the social and economic relations between. But these people choose to take their approaches to life very differently than others I have previously seen. They did not say “mai pen rai” when they were wronged due to being in the outer circle of the people in their society. They too cut in front of strangers in line but in India they get angry. Indeed, they do not forget their anger either, they boil and rant to their wives, verbally strike out at others and justify it to themselves until they are egoistically satiated. Very interesting. It was like watching a dog bark at a mirror at times; the reflection won’t change so why not just stop barking? The Thai’s seem to have figured that out, so why is it different in India?

This is the point when I have to back up and review life in North America, where ego is a challenge to others, road rage is a syndrome, and the individual reigns supreme. Where a grudge is fodder for a later psychological battle on a Freudian sofa. Same stink, different pile. So it goes.

Further observation showed me that people in India are all in fierce competition with each other to elicit the next dollar from each spender that exists. The markets are vicious with voracious proprietors trying to coax every and any rupee to enter the web that is their wallet. Anyone will tell you just about anything in order to sell you whatever item, idea, or service they are attempting to peddle to you. If they have nothing to sell you then they will at least try to convince the nearest proprietor that they have led you to them in order to gain a commission on anything you might spend there. The extent of the web is impressive and the lines are sticky. There were many a time that Cheryl and I would feel we were a flies being tempted by spiders (“Come into my parlor” said the spider to the fly).

“Where are you going?…They are closed for the day, you should come to my house and meet my family (who will try to sell you more things you don’t need)…I am telling you honestly…That is a good price…No, he is my brother, I told you I am telling you honestly…I sell this at three times the price to everyone else…It is good luck to buy this in India…That is not the train to Varanasi…etc.etc.”

Indeed the lies flow in India like slick oil from a freshly tapped source and when it rains it pours, but the ground that spews oil never makes an apology for the mess it makes. However, is this so different from the spewing oil we peddle in all other corners of this fine planet Earth? All people form their morals and values based upon life experiences. We do this until we are convinced that the previous perceived greys are now solid blacks and whites. We do this to such an extent that we even allow ourselves condescending anger towards all others that don’t see the lines we have clearly drawn for ourselves. This can take many forms from culture shock, to bemusement at what we see, to even outright ignorance and bigotry. At times I found myself quite confused by what I would observe in India such as 10 white lies in a breath, or two men yelling at each other over something one of them thought to do before the other one, but to judge it leads to subjective ignorance. This is true here, there, and the other place. So it goes.

Travel is a means to a greater end of the mind. We all form ourselves as we grow but travel forces an outside influence. This is a positive thing. The human mind is not a biosphere that survives well with the windows closed. It needs stimuli other than that from the inner ego otherwise it grows stagnant, dormant, and in the worst circumstances it overrates itself into inflated self-importance. Travel is a means of outside stimuli providing for wider understandings, intellectual and spiritual growth, and if one is lucky, might even lead to humility. No wonder Jesus chose to constantly walk the Earth instead of simply standing still. So it goes.

Thailand and India can be wondrous places or they can make one uncomfortable and angry. But if one keeps their mind open to the wider picture outside of themselves, they just might find something amazing about the outside and inside of their world. So it goes.

Happy travels of the mind.

Editors Note: So it goes…read more Kurt Vonegutt everyone!

Sunrise on the Ganges

Whilst in Varanasi Cheryl and I took a sunrise tour of the Ganges river where we ewre witness to an amazing Hindu ritual of bathing in the Ganges. We awoke at 5 am and made our way down to the shore of the Ganges. The shore consisted of steps leading to the water for this particular stretch of shore is lined with ghats; religious temple-like structures from which people bath to wash their spirits and bodies clean.

We loaded the boat and took off at a slow rowers pace. The morning was languid in speed and feeling. It felt as if we were slowly moving through a dream as we glided along the spiritual river said to be the life blood of India. As the began to rise we witnessed a particularly boisterous group of young men charge into the water and swim out to the centre. The rest of the people along the steps began their descent in to the water. Many were muttering prayers, or singing softly as they ritualistically bathed, washed, drank, and prayed within the water. Some began to do laundry and beat their clothes upon rocks. The whole experience seemed to move together in a pious and sincere manner.

We were fortunate enough to witness a funeral pyre as well. Varanasi is said to be a place where a Hindu may pass away and become free of the cycle of life in reincarnation. Therefore, many people make a final pilgrimage there to die and be released. Part of that release is in the form of being cremated at one of the many ghats along the Ganges river, and to then be added to the Ganges.

The next day Cheryl and I also witnessed a funeral procession leading down to the Ganges. The body was carried by four men. There were many following behind. Leading the procession were a handful of drummers leading with a festive beat such as a celebration. The whole tableau appeared to be a happy send off for the departed. It was very warm and heartening to witness.

To see all of these aspects of life, death, and spiritual cleansing all within 24 hours of each other was incredible. Varanasi is considered the most holy city in India. It is definitely a place to behold for it is truly observed as the life line of India.

Editors note:
*The first picture is masterfully snapped by Cheryl realizing its symbolic importance of what we witnessed that morning.
*The second picture is of our boatman steering us along the Ganges (c/o Jay)
*The third picture is of many people bathing along the steps of one of the many ghats along the river.
*The fourth picture is a man performing a ritual with fire for the morning sun.
*The final picture is a funeral pyre sending the person's spirit to the next life (assumed).

Thus far a-okay

Our adventures thus far have been awe-inspiring. We have traveled many miles by train, taxi, tuk tuk, bus, and camel. We have seen cities, countyside, desert, gods, funerals, markets, the Ganges river, the Taj Mahal, sunrises, and sunsets. India is truly a wonder to behold.

Cheryl and I have been fervently enjoying our time here. Of course there are the usual setbacks of traveling. I have to admit that one of my greatest reservations is the tendency for the citizens of the world to lie to one another but mai pen rai, so it goes.

The train rides have been fun. I have personally enjoyed rising early in the morning to write on my palm pilot. Unfortunately, it lost its memory the other day with a mini novel of experiences recorded within it. That was a huge setback for me, but once again, so it goes.

Cheryl and I have so far visited Kolkatta, Varanasi, Agra, and now Pushkar. Tonight we will head out to Udaipur. All of these places are nothing like anywhere I have ever seen. Stay tuned for more…

Arrival in Kolkata - Now I understand Why there are so Many Words for "Crazy"

Cheryl and I landed at the airport and everything seemed as it normally would be at an airport. Granted, it was smaller than we had anticipated and there was an old cat that lived there, but otherwise, normal. Outside we were greeted by the sight of tiny little picturesque vintage taxi cabs that looked like windup toys at Christian Anderson's store. The drivers were running about attempting to convince everyone that their cab was the best, the cheapest, and that they knew exactly where people needed to go.

Cheryl and I knew the cab driver we were talking to was charging a bit much but we were swiftly becoming anxious to get into town so we took his offer, secured ourselves into the taxi, and then we were away for the ride of our life.

When we arrived in Thailand I thought people were crazy way they drove. Then our friends that have visited India told us that the driving in Thailand was nothing compared to the driving of India. Man oh man were they not kidding. Riding in a taxi cab in Kolkata was a crazy maelstrom of horror and delight. It was, by far, the most interesting driving experience I have ever been in in my life (and that's saying a lot because I have totaled a motorcycle before). The cars weave in and out of each other taking every pull-position they can until there is not an inch unoccupied. It made me think of that experiment where you fill a cup with rocks and ask "Is it full?", and then proceed to show it isn't by pouring in fine sand, and finally, water. The streets of Kolkata were just that efficiently filled with traffic. where there wasn't a car there was a cart, where there wasn't a cart there a tuk tuk, and where there was one more foot of space, somehow there was a wedged a cow! "Oh, haha" you say? You think I am exaggerating? I see you have not been to India my friend.

Our cab driver proceeded to pummel his way through traffic with his horn as a constant reminder that he was playing his own lead role in the cacophonic symphony of C-broken-and refuses to be diminished. Indeed, every car on the road sounded like it's horn was stuck in the on position. If ever there was a raging herd of wild cabs, this was it.

After three near misses of hitting other vehicles (not too close, merely 1-3 cms) our driver finally managed to bottleneck himself into a position and slam into the side of another cab. Cheryl and I silently watched to see what would happen. Will they quietly get our, observe the accident, and exchange insurance information? No. The other driver leaned out and hollered, to which our driver hollered back. I don't speak Hindi, but I am good at listening to voice tones. I believe our driver's tone was around the lines of "Aww come on you big baby, if it's not your fault then it's only a scratch anyhow. Go home to your Momma!" To which the other driver seemed to think that was a good idea and then decided to avoid our particular cab for the remainder of the roller coaster ride.

Once out of the cab we then had the challenge of crossing eh street. One gentleman helped lead us across the street by no easy means. The process involved simply placing one's self in front of a vehi8cle and then praying to the Gods the driver will choose to stop. I followed none too tentatively, for to do so with reservation would mean imminent danger, as opposed to the negligible danger of simply getting 'nudged' by traffic. It appears the only way to cross a busy street in India is to do so with reckless abandon ala-Gonzo-Muppet-Movie style; just fling yourself in and hope your maker is looking in your defense at the time.

Editors note: The picture of the taxi cab is cut from a shot by Jay Ewert. The second picture is a great over-the-roof-of-the-taxi-cab-in-the-streets-of-Kolkata shot by Cheryl Bates.

Who Knows of a Good Contract For M?

Hello all family, friends, and friendly readers.

Cheryl and I want to send out a general call for help. We have a Thai friend named "M" that is in a bit of a bind. It appears he has been very loyal to his employer for too long without getting paid. He has decided he would like to shed the shackles of low-paying employment here in Thailand and go to Canada to become a treeplanter. We have promised M that we will ask around for help in finding a contract. Does anyone have any information to a good treeplanting company that M can contact? He is a hardworking young man with a very positive attitude. If you have any helpful information please click the comment link below or email us at jayewert1@hotmail.com so we can help him out. Thanks be to all.

Much the Richer

Today is a wonderful day. I just arrived at work and checked my email to find out the most incredible news. For years I have been fine-tuning how to get the maximum money back on my education through the Millenium Scholarship Program. In my email box this morning was a notification that I have recieved my final portion larger than any I have ever heard off (much larger). In fact, I recieved such a large scholarship that the email informed me my provincial student loan portion is now PAID IN FULL and carries a balance of ZERO!!! Yay!!! Needless to say this makes me very happy. Cheryl and I just made a giant leap toward ultimate zero (like that will ever happen, but it's nice to muse). I just had to tell everyone because it isn't everyday you get news about making a stride towards being out of debt. Long live scholarships!

Viva La Wieners

We all know them as a form of food that we eat only on certain occasions such as picnics over a fire, at the beach, festivals, fairs, or on children’s birthdays. Most of us, in no way, would consider them to be an actual source of sustenance or respect them enough to actually include them in any plan for a healthy diet. Some would even argue that they are not even meat. Granted, a wiener is various parts of left-over meat brought together and pounded/pressed together by some large bohemouth of a machine in a factory somewhere. Then a generous portion of “wiener flavour” is added to make them taste just that much juicier. Truth be told they consist more of “animal parts” than actual meat themselves (but who’s really keeping track of these things anyway?) And yet we all, at some point or another, close our eyes, enjoy the festivities around us, and take part in the odd ‘dog’ now and then. I admit, I enjoy them now and then too. They remind me of those festive times of youth, games, and picnics.

But is a wiener really a meal? Not a hotdog, I’m talking about a wiener. Or, how about a pile of wieners? Say, a pile of wieners put into a bag with various assortments of condiments generously applied and then eaten with a stick? Dear reader, please take a moment and answer this question for yourself before continuing this blog.

Welcome to Thailand; the place where people eat everything and anything that moves and even some things that don’t (like wieners). Cheryl and I often buy food on the soi (road vendors) such as curries, spring rolls, fruit, fruit shakes, doughnuts, and many other things, however, there is always a place to draw the line. For some “God knows what” reason, people in Thailand are all about the wieners. On any given street you can find at least 20 different types of wieners (and variations thereof). When you walk into a 7-11 store (of which there are at least 1-2 per block) you will find no less than 12 different types of wieners you can have cut, shoved into a bag, and then cooked in a microwave. Mmmmmmmmm. On the street itself there are various forms of similar animal-part-related meats consisting of pork, fish, chicken, beef, etc.,etc.,etc. (note the etc.’s, as they are the secret ingredient in all wieners).

Wieners, it appears, are not only considered an important part of anyone’s diet in Thailand, but due to the absolutely ridiculous numbers of vendors that sell them, I would judge they are a staple of the Thai diet.

It is not unusual to find wieners in baking as well. But of course! Who wouldn’t want a fluffy croissant wrapped around a wedge of animal parts, with wiener flavour injected, and then smothered in icing? Not me for one. Not Cheryl for two. At this point I apologize if you decided to sit down and read our blog just prior to dinner.
No, Cheryl and I have yet to acquiesce to wieners within baking. But here is the funniest part. Cheryl and I have often seen Thai people eating all of these wieners smothered in various condiments, however, where is the bun? With all these wieners being consumed is there some hidden mountain of hotdog buns molding away somewhere forlornly missing the wieners that were so cruelly taken from them? NO! They are being used elsewhere. The buns are used for ice cream. No really! Cart vendors that sell ice cream always have a stock of hotdog buns to fill with ice cream for the swarming customers (all Thai I might add) that want to eat them.

Yes, Thailand is definitely a different world than that which we came from. At times it is a stretch to understand but then I remember certain details from back home. We still eat hotdogs in Canada. Some of us claim to “ascend” to the high quality of smokies, but is it really an improvement, or merely a lofty way to excuse ourselves from high-fat-content gluttony? As well, since childhood I have noticed spam, klik, and other variations of meat-want-to-be’s on the shelf of the local grocer. Someone must be eating it all. And lest we forget, more McDonald’s is purchased and consumed in North America than anywhere else in the world and I’ll eat my hat if a McDonald’s burger has more meat content than a wiener (of course, so might the hat).

That said, Thailand may be a strange, and sometimes terrifying place for us falangs (foreigner), but when we arrive back home, I’m sure I will be just as scared of Canadians and the like. So keep eating your festive imitations foods, and when we arrive home, we will pull our lawn chair up to the fire, stick a skewer, and chow down on our beloved animal parts with all our friends and family.

*The writer would like to recognize the hard-working efforts of the wiener-making industry. Without their hard-working efforts the festive eating of snouts, hoofs, tails, and various other animal parts would not be able to occur. Let us all raise our glass to the meat pressing industry of planet Earth.

*Note: The picture of the vendor selling wieners is similar to what can be seen on literally every street in Thailand.

*Editors note: Please feel free to share your experiences with wieners by leaving a comment by clicking of the link below. Let all people everywhere know your fond memories of "meat".

“Buy my fruit!!!” screamed the robot.

After the initial fairy tale week of getting married in northern Thailand and enjoying the first moments of married life, Cheryl and I were thrust into the world of living and working in Bangkok. Our Air Asia plane landed in BKK airport at about 2 a.m. where we met with the other members of Cheryl's University of Winnipeg program. Then we were shuttled deep in the suburbs of Nan Khem to our new home in KornKarn Apartments. Our apartment seemed nice and we were happy to see it. Mostly we were just happy to drop our stuff and go to sleep hoping that we could forget the fact that our truncated honeymoon was over and we were about to engage once more in the responsibilities that traditionally come attached to life; work, money, etc.


We slept comfortably enough considering that we still hadn't mastered the art of sleep in a tropical climate, aka either lying in a cold sweat with no blankets or choking from a dry throat due to air conditioning. But, we were robbed of the peaceful moments between waking up from a blissful sleep and remembering the existence of the waking world. We were unmercifully thrust into consciousness by the crackling sound of a loudspeaker seemingly hovering outside of our bedroom window. The voice erupting outside sounded like a cross between a robot in agony and the menacing tone I imagined big brother to have in Orwell’s famous novel, 1984. I awoke quickly wondering what nightmarish world it was I had woken up to where robots scream at a person so early in the morning. Upon looking outside I found there was indeed no robot hovering outside. In fact, I could see nothing that would at all explain the source of the sound.

Eventually the cacophony faded as if it were getting further away. It appeared the sound had been a mere echo that must have originated on the bustling streets below and was amplified by the walls of the apartment buildings around us. I was so confused as to the origin of the terrible noise and hoped that it would not be a noise repeated on consecutive mornings. Later, as Cheryl and I were walking along the street I spied the source of the terrible noise. A truck was driving slowly down the road. In the back of the truck was a huge pile of strange-looking fruit, which I later found out was called “rambutan”.
Attached to the top of the truck was a steel loudspeaker through which the driver was loudly proclaiming (I assume) in Thai “Buy my fruit!!! Buy my fruit!!! Buy my fruit!!!” Why someone would attempt using such an awful noise to sell something still seems rather ridiculous to me.




As life went on for Cheryl and I here in Bangkok we started noticing that many people use metal loudspeakers, megaphones and various other irritating forms of voice amplification for getting people attention and selling their wares. There is one gentleman close to our home who sells pig heads and will sit for hours on end talking into his microphone announcing about his wonderful pig heads for sale. In Canada I’m sure not only would this kind of selling not work but it would absolutely repel people. But, then again, if one took out everything repellent and not understandable in Thailand it just wouldn’t be as interesting as it is.

Every now and then either Cheryl or I will say “Buy my fruit!!!” and we burst out laughing. It has become almost a satirical humour to us as it represents so many things that mean so much more than “Buy my fruit!!!”

Editors note: The picture of the strange fruit that looks like the stool of a Jim Henson creation is a rambutan fruit. They are quite good. You tug them open and eat the insides similar to a lychee nut.

Sorry for not Blogging

Hello to all of you who read and patiently wait for more...

This blog is in place as an apology for not blogging more often. Examinations are around the corner at Cheryl's and my school so we are attempting to keep up with our marking, assignments, preparing our students, keeping parents happy, etc, etc. We are spending late nights and not having time for personal items such as blogging. We have, however, been planning for our two-week trip come October (location to be revealed later). I promise to blog more in the near future and keep you all informed of our adventures and plans. We miss our family and friends and hope to hear from all of you. Please take the time to leave us a message by clicking on the comments tab below each blog, or contact via email (the links are on the right side of the page).

If this isn’t the End of the World Then it is at Least Nice Enough to be Considered a Nomination

On our last long weekend Cheryl and I went to Koh Pangan. Why Koh Pangan you may ask? Because we had many wonderful friends with which to share the experience, that is why. Our wonderful friends Shawn and Sean have been traveling through various regions over the past several months. They stopped in to visit us in Bangkok some weeks ago. We met, talked, etc. and enjoyed the company. Then they took off to India, back to Thailand, off to Cambodia, and then once more to Thailand. They finally settled on a little piece of heaven called Koh Pangan; a little island in the south-eastern corner of the Bay of Thailand. From there they sent a message that they were staying and we were welcome to join them. Well now who are we to ignore an invite to join our friends on a sparsely populated tropical island?

We were also fortunate enough to have our two friends from our previous weekend on Koh Chang (Lainie and Heather) joining us as well as Lainie’s brother Evan. Althogether we were a motley Winnipeg crew of seven. It was wonderful having so many friends with nothing to do but laze about at a resort. Some of the pictures of the sunset are taken right from the porch of Shawn and Sean’s cabin whick was actually overhanging the rocks and the ocean.

Later on into Saturday night we began light-painting with Cheryl’s camera. This is a cool trick by using a timer on the shutter of the camera itself. We had a great time and came up with some pretty cool shots.

On the Sunday we traveled to a nearby beach and went snorkeling around a small island adjoining the larger one of Koh Pangan. The coral wasn’t as amazing as some I have heard about but it was very satisfying to see as it was my first time snorkeling in the ocean.

I hope the days of tropical islands will never end. I know that at some point Cheryl and I will be going back to Canada, but for now we go away every weekend and pretend there is no world beyond us, and no obligations come Monday. Although our futures may always encroach us, at least the present has a nice view.

*The picture of the sunset is taken by Cheryl Bates.

*The silhuette at sunset was taken by Jay Ewert.

*The light-painting shots were taken by Jay Ewert and buddy Sean on the beach (I’m so sorry Sean but your last name is escaping me. I hope you read this and leave it in the comments for this blog so you can get your proper creds).