I Got a Job!!!

The day has come. I have waited a long time but it is finally here. After many years of training I am finally about to embark on the next leg of my professional journey; I have been hired as a full time teacher!

Some of you may have noticed that I have not been posting on this blog much lately. Despite this fact I have actually been writing quite a bit, but not things that are easily publishable online. I have had many interesting and soul-searching experiences during my substitute teaching this fall, however, it would be ill-professional to publish in-school experiences. But this is different, this is a blog of me saying "Yes, I got a job!".

When I went to my interview I felt trepidation coursing through me. I entered my first professional interview just hoping I wouldn’t swallow my own foot much less get the job. But then there I was in the interview acting calm and collected and saying what, apparently, were good answers to dynamic questions. Like most people I walked away with an exhale of breath and a silent prayer on my lips..."Please God, help me accept the things I cannot change."

My hopes were neither up nor down. As I considered the interview my hindsight was neither clear nor 20/20. How did I do? Did I say what they wanted to hear? Have I helped or hindered my future as an educator?

Two days later the phone rings and the hair on my neck stands erect. I twitch twice on the way to the phone. My body feels involuntary as I answer the call. The voice on the other end is kind. Perhaps this voice is merely playing out niceties in order to let me down nicely. What do you mean how did I feel the interview went? I am certain this is the pleasant let-down where they tell you it went well and not to be discouraged in applying for future positions. I listen with frenetic impatience trying not to let my anticipation show and then...the voice offers me the job. I shake my head. Did I hear that right? The voice repeats the offer. Oh my God! I did hear it right! I am close to hysterical with excitement; "I’m going to be a teacher! A real, honest to God teacher, with a cheesy coffee mug on my desk and all!" Finally I will be able to pursue what I have trained so long to do!

Needless to say, I am already preparing and am excited at the upcoming opportunities. Come January I will be a full-time teacher and I am pleased to tell you, my family and readers, that it makes me happy.

*Note: If you wish to know more please drop a line. I would love to share not only our recent events but yours as well.

Hurray, hurrah for apple pie! Yesterday was Thanksgiving and it was a thankful day. Although it wasn’t spent with the greater family it was still Thanksgiving.

This Thanksgiving was Cheryl’s and my first Thanksgiving together (Thailand ones don’t count). We chose to spend the weekend with each other as we are now the most immediate family we have. So we got in the car and drove across the prairies on a road trip. We drove for miles across the land admiring the natural beauty that is the prairies in fall. The leave were turning colour, the wind was rustling, and cabins were closing down. But, whilst most people were curled up by fireplaces, cooking dinners, and calling family we were trekking in the van. We drove through the Narrows and had lunch. We drove through Riding Mountain National Park and sat by a lake. We ate nachos and watched the sunset. And once we were successfully over the hills and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we went. We drove right into Shoal Lake to visit Cheryl’s Grandmother at the hospital there. She seemed quite pleasantly surprised to see us what with our smiles and Thanksgiving wishes. We had a nice visit for a few hours and then Cheryl and I ventured back into the open prairies.

By this time the wind was howling and the rain was coming in such torrents that it hit our van in large aqua-barriers. At times the weather could be considered “dicey” but like all things it eventually passed. By Sunday night we had arrived home and set ourselves up for the final 24 hours of Thanksgiving weekend. For our final day Cheryl and I did nothing but watch movies, prepare food, and eat food. I’m certain the Pilgrims would have been proud. Although we were not sitting across the table from family and friends, we were definitely giving thanks for all that we have. My particular highlight of the day was making my first apple pie from scratch. That’s right, Mom was not there so I made the apple pie (although I can’t take all the credit because whilst I was making the pie Cheryl made the rest of the meal).

Of course, whether you celebrate Thanksgiving with family or not the one tradition that is set in stone about the holiday is you must eat too much and then pass out from food coma, and this we did. By 9 p.m. we were comfortably numb and discovering that our belts go one size larger than usual, and maybe it’s the Mennonite in me but faspa soon overtook us and it was time for bed.

To all our family and friends out there who celebrated the holiday without us, we are thankful to have you in our lives. We hope your holiday was full of thanks, family, and food. And if you are just a lucky internet reader coming for a visit, thanks for sharing our story (and feel free to share yours if you want to leave a comment).

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!


Note: The pictures used in this post were taken be Cheryl Bates and Jay Ewert (that's right, from this weekend)

Life is Good...But the Weeds Must Die

Life in a small town thus far has been good. Cheryl has been enjoying her job and I have begun the regular life of a substitute teacher. For the past week-and-a-bit I have been daily moving between schools pretending I am a knowledge source from everything from Grade 1 to highschool home-ec. I feel like those annoying people in the Holiday Inn commercials; “Well, no I’m not an ICT instructor, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night!”. But the work has been good. I have been exposed to the schools and most of the experiences have been good. I would tell you more but this is a public blog and I am not about to become an ‘agent of the state’ with his foot in his mouth.

Otherwise, we are happy in our home.

Today, however, poses a new threat to my happiness because insofar no one has called me in to work, and that means I have no excuse to avoid the pending yardwork. There is at least 12 hours of pulling weeds with my name written all over it and so a-weed-pulling- I must go.

This feeling is not one of triumph such as my heroic battle against the lawn because unlike the lawn, which carries its own sense of elegance and self-worth, weeds are a ruthless enemy. Weeds are sneaky and mean, they engage in Guerrilla-like tactics; striking when you least expect it, hiding behind the foliage only to strike when your guard is down. The thistles stick in your hands, the spores violate the air, and they are always planning another attack wave with hidden numbers. Their roots extend deep to the point of conspiracy. Indeed, the only way to rid yourself of a weed is to dig at its roots until either you or the weed is forever vanquished. To do otherwise is futile. But weeds have learned to survive. There are even plants in the garden that are really undercover weeds. They are broadleaf yet flower, but don’t be deceived, they are the enemy and they must die. Other plants seem to have forged an alliance, covering the existence of the weeds with their own foliage, thus concealing the threat and converting it to a covert operation. Yes, the weeds have a plan but I have a secret weapon…Killex. Yes, I intend to descend upon the yard with chemical warfare. With my Killex canister in hand I will distribute death to the organic onslaught that is the weeds. And when the canister runs dry I shall deal out weed-death with my garden-gloved hands. There may be some casualties along the way but it will all be for the greater good (I would say “democracy shall prevail but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we are only talking about plants here).

In the words of Garfield the cat, “If I’m not back in 10 minutes, send a banana-cream pie after me.”

Emerging Formal Adulthood

I have just completed one of the many tasks that now define my new contemporary proletariat life; I mowed the lawn. The blades of grass shuddered as I approached, for they could sense my abject manliness projected across the yard. Within my chest beat the heart of a new man; one who lives amongst equals in a world of hard-working, independent folk, and the grass new it. The weeds felt smug in the knowledge that the mower was powerless against them, but their time will come soon.

After many years of floundering through my gen-x advanced-gestation period, I have finally arrived on the other side; that of living, loving, and having. Cheryl and I are happily moving into our new lives with a vigor formerly unknown to us. We are emerging upon a new part of our lives I will call “formal adulthood”.

This morning the lawn was a symbol of our emerging adulthood. Cheryl bustled about the house attending to various odds and ends. We moved about our new world with purpose of hard-work and cleanliness (which I hear is next to Godliness). At one point she ceased her efforts in order to greet me in the yard and bring a cool drink. We met, we smiled, we exchanged looks, and in front of all the lawn to see, we kissed. It was a flirtation of our new-found independence, a breath of life fanning the flame of exalted and proud mediocrity. The grass was trembling.

But where does one go from there you might ask? Well, ever onward my friend. The beginning now is merely a continuation of what was and the end is merely the gateway to the next. All of us humans on planet Earth are moving forward and the best place to get to is one you are at. I am here, the world is turning, and I am fine.

The Best is Yet to Come

Yes, it has been a loooonnng time since my last blog but never fear dear readers...I am fine. Cheryl and I have been traveling across the prairies selling our wares and enjoying life. We have survived six weeks of grueling work and our blood, sweat, and tears have finally purchased us a few days off. Upon checking the interweb it came to my notice that many of you have been checking this site to no avail and so I have logged on to assure you all that we are not only still alive but are also kicking. And...I intend to once again regale you all with tales of the innermost kind dealing with events, quirks, and introspection. But first...a few days off. Until the next interspective moment on the web (the best is yet to come).

Keep you stick on the ice.

Sincerely
Jay Ewert

The Times They Are A-Changin

Well here we are as always, two people amidst a changing universe around us. Throughout history the world has always been subjective to the inevitability of change and Cheryl and I are no exception to this rule. Change is upon us, now how do we choose to receive it?

If you have been savy enough to engage with us personally then you no doubt are aware that Cheryl and I plan to relocate soon. During our escapade toward employment Cheryl was blessed with a job offer in Arborg (close to Gimli). She has since accepted the position and we have been moving ever-closer to our new future in the again frontier of the Canadian Prairies.

How are we receiving it you may ask? Well, we are ecstatic! Only yesterday we secured ourselves a house to rent complete with a beautiful backyard. The community of Arborg is lovely and the people are friendly. This is that moment in our lives when we embrace our coming of age and "come into our own" so to speak, and I for one am excited!

Although I am aware, as I stated initially, that everyone on Earth is experiencing change I feel particularly large in life because the changes Cheryl and I are currently engaged in are those of epic proportions. We are embarking upon the next step of life. Have you ever read that tiresome motivational poster that states "Today is the first day of the rest of your life"? Well, it suddenly makes sense. Carpe Diem brother, the world is turning!

but how are we to feel about all this? Like any life-changing scenario we are quaking with trepidation and anticipation. The ground is shifting and if we don`t shuffle soon we just might spill?. Everyone experiences those moments of personal apprehension when they realize they are getting older, or feeling that their boundaries have somehow changed due to the inevitability of entropy. Physicists hypothesize the Universe is currently etching outward and that all matter is slowly moving toward disarray. Do we all feel this apprehension as a manner of holding together what we thought we knew in light of this universal push towards disarray? Or, is it just simple xenophobic reactiveness; the unknown seeming to loom over us?

I feel this change is part of the natural process of life. Many past trials of life have taught me the tools required to advance ever further into the unknown of the future. And without my past failures I could never harvest the successes of the future. Therefore I greet the new challenges of the future with a lucid fervor. My past has granted me a dynamic life, beautiful partner, and a bright future. The only challenge that seems important at this point is to savor the now, and the now is savory. In several days our family and friends will all gather to celebrate our changing and growing lives. They will join us in solidarity to bless our future. Thus, savoring the moment is just what the doctor ordered. So,how are we taking the change? We are embracing it and counting ourselves as lucky.

*Blessings to all you readers that are experiencing change. And to those joining us in a few days, we are looking forward to facing changes with you by our side.

What Direction This May Come

Which way are we all going? To each of us there is an direction unforeseen; a direction that must be followed. Fortunately for us we are all somewhat limited in our perception of it.

Where is this ridiculous airy notion coming from you ask? I have not written for some time and am just now realizing it is because I have been working so hard on trying to find work and define my plans of employment that I have ignored my lust to express in such a form as writing. I was just lying in bed and finishing a delightful novel by Stephen King. He followed up his story with a tirade of writing declaring that the rest of the story was soon to be written, however, it would span 3000 pages and take at least 300 years to write. He claimed he knew little of the details of the story but that somewhere within him was the knowledge, direction, and complete layout of the world he would create. And yet, does that not describe the mental existence of people? We are all aware of our ambitions but we only let ourselves find out on a need-to-know basis. Each day I learn more of myself just as you do. What fascination. Our lives are like a writer revealing a story unto their own self.

*Stay tuned for more cultural awareness in the future. I would have kept this writing for myself but it just felt so universal.

Apply Yourself!

What is an application but an extension of my will out to the world asking it to please convert me into a working form of person. “I, Jay Ewert wish to become part of the machine!” I have spent days and weeks applying for various forms of employment now and I am getting just a wee-bit wiped by the effort it is costing me emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I have written, called, promised, edited, faxed, emailed etc. just about everything that describes me to be a productive and professional worker, and yet, I do not feel fine. But, why not? Isn’t productivity toward a greater goal supposed to be rewarding in some internal way? Aren’t we, as animal by-products of our environment supposedly programmed to feel satisfaction from our work? I am led to believe this is true. However, I am not the farmer observing the crop he just pulled in, nor am I the fisherman that enjoys the frying of my prized catch of the day. No, I am the job-hunter in all his fury. I am the man with the resume hoping to unearth the direction of my future. I am the aspiring proletariate just waiting for his chance to make some mark on something at some point in the future so that I may respect myself in the mirror. I am every man’s moment before success or failure!

We have all been through this; the moments of pure agony that are the job-hunt. These are the times of futility that just might render opportunity should the fortuitous moment choose to present itself. Will the right person get this paper on their desk at the right time? Will they be looking for me or will I be able to convince them I am what they are looking for? The whole debacle becomes a test of ones persistence. I mean, how long can one person throw a wet noodle at a brick wall before they realize the futility of their situation? And yet my university has told me repeatedly that my situation is not futile. They tell me that I am a national resource ready to be fertilized and harvested. I am told that I will be successful. I wish they would tell my potential employers this. If only they knew what an educational asset I will be on their staff. But, that is my current vocation; to convince them and thus render harvest to my talents.

I am the man pursuing the plan. I aim to be an educator but first I must learn how to bring it about. And so I will stop procrastinating in the form of this online, whining blog, and get out there in the wide, virtual world and apply myself online. Maybe virtual brick walls are not as sturdy (and thus my wet noodles will shatter my adversity).

Ode to the Back-packer Haven of Kaosan Road

Koasan Road in Bangkok is an amazing place to be. All places that have been embraced by the sensuous yet bitter taste of tourism have a place such as Kaosan. A haven for the falangs that penetrate the culture of the locals, devour the scene and then leave in their wake a consistent trickle of tourism dollars to encourage the ongoing patronage of the locals.

Tourism is not a modest market in Thailand. Perhaps, once, Thailand was an untouched Kingdom, but now it is a contemporary nation of entrepreneurs consistently developing new ways of economic survival. One should expect that in any place dubbed the " entrepreneurial kingdom" that tourism would not only be present, but also be a quickly exploited means of revenue and ever-increasing business. And thus, Thailand has embraced tourism with open arms, and since, the tributary has become a raging river complete with rapids; and similar to rapids, the persistent and powerful flow is shaping the future of the river.

Koasan is a creation of these rapids. As falang flow into the capitol of Bangkok the demand for a haven carves out its environment. Koasan is a collection of everything that the average falang wants from varying levels of lodging, to restaurants and bars, to shops and entertainment. It is a colorful mixture of needs, wants and wishes ready to satisfy the wims of all who enter from the benign sight-seer to the venal sinner.

"Falang" is a term that means "foreigner" generally meaning "white and not from around here". I am certain that when the word "falang" is said little bells go off in a Thai person’s head that say "money, good times, and easy life". Perhaps that is why Thai people so enjoy pointing at us and saying it like a happily proclaimed label. Kaosan is a direct reflection of this. It caters to one's wants as a traveler no matter who they are and it encompasses good times and fun with an affordable price tag attached.

Kaosan Road is a very fun place to go be. I still remember the first time Cheryl and I ventured into downtown Bangkok and visited the glory of Kaosan. It was night and we were hungry and thirsty (two very good things to be when visiting Kaosan). We knew we were close because there seemed to be a backpacker element present as all the t-shirts being sold on the sidewalk were of various pop-culture icons from Bob Marley to Sesame Street. This place definitely screamed "good time-money-fun" and we hadn't even rounded the corner. And then we did - stretching before us was a street teeming with falangs from all over the world all milling about the small cart shops selling t-shirts, jewelry, simple stir-fry food, and almost anything a falang could want. Above our heads was a circus freak show of neon lights promising places to stay, drink, buy, relax, party, massage, eat, and every other service a traveler may wish to have offered. It was like walking into the backpacker’s version of Disneyland complete with mascots (I have never seen so many Thai people dressed like Captain Jack Sparrow trying to sell necklaces and dred-locks).

The aura of Kaosan is not unlike that of a street festival except that it extends down every alley and sidestreet similar to how a river breaks into creeks, tributaries, and streams. And all you have to do is follow the flow to any corner and you will find something interesting, satiating, or somehow entertaining.

Cheryl and I have spent many in-town weekends on Kaosan Road. We'll take a taxi ride into town and troll Kaosan and the surrounding tributaries taking part in various foods, drinks, and fun. There are young people, old people, and everything in-between enjoying themselves. We now have our favourite restaurants and inexpensive guesthouses where we like to stay. Our mental map of Kaosan grows with each visit. Over time we have discovered new avenues to walk down and found entire new ecosystems of markets and people to see and be entertained by. There is always another corner with more to see. It was only a week-and-a-half ago that Cheryl and I discovered what I have dubbed “Importer’s Alley” (which of course was a great find for two aspiring importers such as ourselves).

Kaosan is not only a great place to be but also serves as a great base of operations for both the training and the seasoned traveler. During the days we venture out to surrounding Bangkok such as the vast Jatujak weekend market, ancient temples, or the Grand Palace. Bangkok stretches onward in all directions with many places to see but Kaosan is a great place to start and finish,

I will miss visiting this place amongst many others when Cheryl and depart for Canada. So many little details that started with wonder have now become cherished and common place for us here. We have made ourselves a home complete with a job to work, an island to visit, and a place to eat and rest on the weekends. Kaosan is just one of many places I tip my hat to.

Homecoming is now (and isn't that nice?)

Being home has been a literal breath of fresh air. The quality of breathing is better than Bangkok could ever hope for and that’s just the beginning. Coming home is full of the little things one missed whilst away. I have missed many things from fresh air to the illusion of common courtesy. Honestly, only yesterday I wasn’t paying attention in line and noone even ran in front of me, they smiled and nodded me forward (how nice).

Yes, returning to Canada has its perks. In the last week or so Cheryl and I have already seen many friends and family that we were sorely missing and that’s emotional money for the spiritual piggy bank. It is good to be home.

But, homecoming also has its own bends and twists to it, like the sense that one is returning to a reality of sorts. The world is suddenly tangible again like a dream de-materialized to the moan of an alarm-clock. We sense the impending doom of searching for work and preparing for the future. So it goes.

The mindset is different, yet somehow familiar, but coming home has been an adjustment both good and bad. One thing I am having a hard time coming to terms with is moving from a decidedly Buddhist overall perspective to that of the neo-Christianized society of our emerging 21st century Canada. I immediately noticed that everyone here is in a hurry. People are always thinking of either the next moment or the last. What happened in the past is viewed as important somehow because it helped to shape the now. But the now is only important because it can help shape the future. The future is of course the most important because it is something to work toward, something in which to invest all ones hopes, fears, efforts, thoughts, integrity, emotions, planning, etc., etc. People in North America are so concerned about earning the salvation of the next moment it appears they forget to find the peace in the moment they are in.

Cheryl and I lived in a city of more than 12 million people for almost a year. Prior to our departure over the big blue I assumed that people there would always be in a rush with something on their mind. Television has taught me that big cities are places of rushing, struggling, and crashing efforts colliding in hopes of a distant form of survival, however, this was not so in Bangkok. Yes, the city was big and there were always many people waiting to get where they were trying to go but every person seemed focused only on what they were doing not merely on what they did or are about to do. At times Thai people seemed simple in their thought-processes with mild expressions of indifference painted upon their demeanor and seemingly meager amounts of intent for the future. But they were not simple in any way, they were fascinating. Their peaceful aura stemmed not from simple thoughts but from peace in the moment.

The bus in a big city can be a stressful place. People are crammed into a tiny area intending to travel to places of work they loathe and wish not to go. They are filled with anxiety about what they will do when they get there, how much they don’t want to be there or even on this very bus on which they stand, and many other details such as how it irritated them to have to wait five-and-a-half minutes for the bus today instead of the usual five. The bus can indeed be a place full of petty anxieties dealing mainly in worry about the past and future mixed with irritation of the now. However, in Thailand I found myself on a crowded bus in awe of the fact that everyone there was at peace. Although there was still ample situation to create stress the people there were complacent to their current position. They were humble in their stance as they slowly drifted through the streets en route to work. They seemed to think only of the fact that they were there with something to do and that was sufficient. There is no point in fretting upon the immediate future since the present is not currently connected, and therein lies the fulcrum of today’s lesson in cultural understanding; the past is not now, the future is later, but now is the moment and it is that is simple.

It is this aspect of the “now” in mental consciousness that has been very difficult for me to accept upon returning home. After living in a primarily Buddhist society for the last year I have found myself turn a more mellow colour than before. I don’t know what my previous colour was but if it was white I am now a soft egg-shell that one would paint their study in hopes of finding tranquility. I recall being much more relaxed in Thailand than I feel here and I think the reason is the contrast of societal forming views. In the past week and half I have moved from a Buddhist societal mentality to that of our new-Christian formed/freemarket competition/fight for tomorrow’s salvation today type mentality and I must say it has been unsettling. I already have stomach acid build up and can’t sleep at night because I am worried about tomorrow. At some point during our trans-Pacific flight the air changed from Buddhist warmth to contemporary North American chill.

Cheryl had warned me that coming home would induce a reverse-culture-shock that would catch me off-guard so I can’t say I didn’t know this was coming. But this shock is enormous. When I dwell on what was (which I am doing a lot more now that Canadian society has once more re-absorbed me) I recall how mellow and in-the-moment I was only days before. I am already forgetting the peace of the “now” and am once again moving unerringly toward the future. I am now faced with trying to integrate the two. I don’t want to fret like so many of us Canadians who are always in a rush to something else. Perhaps my travel overseas to the land of the Buddhists has something more to teach me; how to enjoy the moment and not only worry about the next.

Now that you have read about my mental journey do yourself a favour; at least three times today stop and ask yourself “am I enjoying this moment or am I only dwelling on the past or the future?”. Not only will you find you are often not in the moment but also asking yourself that question will help remember to enjoy the “now” more in the future (and isn’t that a better plan for the future than just worrying about it?).

*Note: If this works for you or you just want to comment on this blog, please use the link below to leave a comment. And, don’t forget to stay tuned for more blogging…

...will blog again soon...

Sorry everyone for not having many more entertaining things for you to read. Cheryl and I have been selfishly enjoying each others company instead of the warm glow of the computer screen. However, I have been writing many things and plan to be posting many things once we are once again landed in Canada (there are just too many interesting things about Asia to write about). So tune in later...

Rattle-Boom-Bus

Up in the morning-open the eyes-rise from bed-wish it wasn't morning-eat breakfast-wash-complain once more that work is more than just a terrible dream-leave for work.

We all do this everyday and most of our stories are the same. But here in Thailand Cheryl and I have an extra flavour that makes our trek to work that much more interesting; the rattle-boom-bus.

In Bangkok there are two types of buses one can take. Some of them are very nice new buses with air-conditioning flowing icy cold. The gears shift smoothly, the doors open silently and there is usually a nice seat to sit upon. However, these buses are also the most expensive. As well, they are not a set price. You pay for them according to how far you plan to travel. Thus, the farther you go, the more it costs (air-con with a smile ain't cheap you know).

The former buses are for those with money to spare and a taste for comfort, which is the fortunate few. For the rest of the working class world that is Thailand there is the rattle-boom-bus. The rattle-boom-bus is one that has seen better days. Its paint is stripped, the gears are cranky, and the windows are forever slanted or smashed open and are repaired only with flimsy Doremon stickers (a popular Thai cartoon character). Dirt has claimed every spare inch of the engine, termites have claimed the floor, and the walls, ceiling, and handrails tell tales of over one hundred days of handholds. The brakes are shot, the air is hot and the people are pressed like sardines.

Step One: Catching the bus.
-When waiting for the bus in Bangkok one must first find the bus stop. There is no sign to help you. Most of them are indicated only by the regular patronage of people standing about with little visible purpose, which can be misleading because it is a common Thai trait to do this randomly and often. This can usually be determined as a place where a bus is likely to stop. When the bus arrives you must wave your hand in the low, limp wrist style that Thai's use, which looks a lot like a proper lady waving her handkerchief at a potential suiter (so get wooing that bus yo). Then it is important to hold your Buddha medallion (for good luck) because the bus will only stop if it decides it wants to (which isn't always).

Step Two: Boarding the bus.
-If you are so lucky this morning that the bus is stopping you must now muster your outer-circling skills in order to claim a position within the bus. If you fail to do so you will not be afforded the luxury of riding the rattle-boom-bus because you will be swiftly pushed out of the way by everyone else who is aspiring to ride the rattle-boom-bus. The most subtle way to do this is to predict the precise position that the bus will stop in thus allowing you the initial pole-position of boarding the bus. Then, you should huff out your shoulders so as not to allow anyone to pass you. Lastly, you must press forward amongst the throng of potential passengers until you have squeezed through the door and secured your transportation for yet another day. Congratulations, you have now boarded the rattle-boom-bus.

Step Three: Riding the Bus-Riding the rattle-boom-bus is just like riding any other bus except for a few subtle differences. One difference is that the bus is inevitably packed tighter than a boy’s closet after cleaning his room; with all of its contents spilling into every crevice, constantly threatening to bust through the threshold at any minute. So, when you board the bus be sure to stuff yourself into a corner where you won't be pressed out the door. Another difference is that the rattle-boom-bus is anything but a smooth ride so one must hold on with a kung-foo grip if they hope to survive the ride. To top it off, the gears are always shot on the rattle-boom-bus and the driver is usually set on making the current day the last one those poor gears will function, and so they proceed to thrash the stick to and fro in a maniacal fashion between each gear. And this, ladies and gentlemen is what makes it the “rattle-boom-bus”. So huff out your chest, push on through, and hold on tight because it’s another lovely morning in Bangkok.

The Essence of Chicken - and other False Idols

I have rarely written about the school Cheryl and I work at, however there are some things that just must be written.

In Thailand the public school system is considered adequate but many choose to send their children to private schools for a higher education. This entails enrolment in a school that can easily be considered a business and is therefore suspect to business practices such as corporate sponsorship. There are many events within Lertlah School that are somewhat open to public business finance, interest and even commercial sales. One such represented interest is by "Essence of Chicken"

Each morning the students gather outside around a large fountain complete with Buddha statue and recite many ritualistic cultural practices in the form of oaths, songs, and chants. These are done in a solemn and uniform manor each and every day.

Cheryl and I arrived at school one morning to see the students gathered for their usual morning rituals, however, this morning there was a large pyramid of boxes erected in front of the large Buddha fountain at the centre of the solemn circle.

As per most mornings, the students were going about their rituals in an appearing form of grace superceding the day, however the boxes were a startling contrast to this particular morning's events. Scheduled to follow the morning rituals was an awards ceremony for a spelling competition that had been sponsored by "Essence of Chicken"; a product which is a brand-name of chicken bullion for soup and various other cooking in which one might want an artificial chicken flavour. The boxes all sported the "Essence of Chicken" symbol and were stacked in a toweringly excessive manor so as to dwarf even the magnificence of the statue of Buddha. And gathered all around in ancient ritual fashion were hundreds of Thai students chanting, praying, and bowing their heads as if in recognition of some powerful commercial deity represented by the magnificent pyramid of cardboard in front of which they lay their blessings. One student would lead with a short phrase followed by hundreds of children chanting similarly in response and then bowing after each line. It brought to mind scenes from old movies depicting ancient civilizations of people worshipping various idols. I was half expecting Charleton Heston to descend from Mount Sinai and smash the boxes along with the Ten Commandments.

Of course not only was the seemingly religious commercial event comical but also the fact that here we were, one of the most prestigious schools in all of Thailand and our students were bowing before an idol made from recycled paper and pronouncing the goodness of cooking with chicken bullion, which likely consisted of more MSG than animal. If this is the kind of reverence produced for a pile of boxes, I would like to see what sort of brewhaha would erupt if someone parked a Coke machine in our midst.

The Virtual Sloth is Not an Endangered Species

The sloth is an animal with little muscle definition, even less locomotion, and still less cranial capacity. It is an animal that is listless, useless, and lazy. And yet it survives. In fact it survives only due to its own slothfulness. This is because its stillness has incurred the growth of a moss within its fur that serves to camouflage the animal thus leaving it without potential predators.

The word "sloth" has become the definition of indolence and laziness due to the infamous inactivity of the animal and it was just the other day that some of the true quality of this characteristic was shown to me.

Internet cafes dot the horizon of Bangkok as plentiful as fish off the coast of Newfoundland. One cannot walk half a city block without bumping their nose into at least two internet cafes. There are literally about two dozen of them within a two-block radius of Cheryl's and my apartment alone. Obviously there is a demand for this service to be so omnipresent, otherwise it would not exist. But what is this demand exactly? An army of businessmen finishing their work after the office is closed? Computer programmers run amuck? A mass internet uprising of the working class? No... its just the gamers.

They sit there with their eyes glued to the screen, their mouths agape, and their brains frothing over. The sound of the cafe is a general hum of cpu fans drowning amidst the racket of dance revolution music, virtual gunfire and startling verbal taunts between gamers. The gamers busy themselves with saving the world, levelling up their imaginary personas, and killing their virtual friends. You know, the important stuff in life.

Who are these gamers you ask? They are every school-age child in the country. As my parents noted whilst here there is frightfully little real estate in Bangkok reserved for outdoor recreation, thus leaving the school children with three options for after-school; engage in extra-curricular education, go to the staggeringly large malls to shop, or hit the internet cafe to kill your friends until bedtime. And thus, we have identified the ravenous demand for the 5.7 internet cafes per one-city-block capita.

Most of the internet cafes are exclusively for online gaming and do not carry cd-roms, usb ports, or even Microsoft Word to accommodate anyone who might actually be attempting to use the facilities for productive work. The key demographic focus here is the slothful gamer.

The slothful gamer books into the game café immediately after he has finished detention. He proceeds to play games online whilst taunting his friends around him in the cafe who are also currently online attempting to murder each other's virtual selves. Their virtual survival is contingent upon their ability to sit in the chair long enough that the survival skills of the internet will eventually settle upon them and proceed to grow similar to the moss on the fur of the sloth. This moss serves a similar purpose; whereas the sloth’s moss makes it invisible to potential predators, the gamer also becomes invisible and blind to the world around them. And I’m certain if you look close, their must really be some sort of fine parasitic life-form spreading microscopically upon their skin and slowly consuming them (at least the look on their faces certainly appears to be that of a mentally consumed individual) Once again we are confronted with an animal whose survival depends on the ability to sit still for long periods of time.

I am told that when a sloth attempts to cross the road it can take all afternoon resulting in the sloth choosing to never cross back. This is due to its complete lack of muscle definition due to extended bouts of, well, slothfulness. The internet gamer also avoids any and all mobility whenever possible. They slowly saunter in, choose their favourite easy chair, park it in front of the computer, and proceed to sit, play, eat at the computer, and generally avoid any physical movement as they tediously trek through their cyber-horizons. As a result, the slothful gamer much like the sloth itself lacks any form of healthy muscle definition shy of the strong index muscles required to click a mouse.

This is the world of the gamer and it burns roughly 2 calories a second whilst frying 1.4 million brain-cells per shot fired. But don't worry about the poor lads survival; anyone who can kill until 3 a.m. and still have virtual blood-thirst for more must have some sort of stamina. After all, even a three-toed sloth can hang upside down for hours. Of course that's only because of their trusty hooks. As for the gamers, well, their just hooked.

When running before the sun rises I watch weary gamers exiting the café after a long night of online rampages and I am thankful that unlike the sloth I am engaging in exercise. Although I do miss playing a game now and then, and plan to do so when I return home, I can only pray that the moss of the sloth will not settle on me and make me invisible to my wife.

Going in Thai Circles

As mentioned in previous blogs I think that one thing funny about falangs (*Thai for "foreigners") is the myth of "common sense" and/or "common courtesy. The reason I think it is so funny is because it is a myth. Back home in Canada this particular myth just happens to be so widespread that it is true with certain morays of sense and courtesy becoming almost universally agreed upon. For example, one would normally expect that it is rude to step in front of someone in line at the grocery store or to set up a concert bandstand on the outskirts of an otherwise quiet community and proceed to blare music throughout the night. And although this type of behaviour would seem universally irritating and considered a matter of course to be followed by all parties it is by no means common to all places.

Thailand is not Canada. It is a world away from there. Yes, it has things in common with Canada such as paved streets, 7-11 stores, and shopping malls, but that is where the commonalities cease. Assuming that the "sense" of a Canadian is common with the "sense" of a Thai is merely naive. Thai's have their own morays, values, and common social qualities for which they adhere to just like all cultures develop their own ways of being. And thus we come across the circles of Thailand.

Thai social culture appears to revolve around circles moving from the inner to the outer. The circles determine the level of respect through which a person will treat those around them.

The inner circle is that of your family and closest friends. These are the people that you reply upon in your survival. They are people that are important to hold in high esteem for everything from your personal relations to your persona survival. They are more important than all others. This may not sound so different than what you might consider "normal", but the circles widen from here.

The second circle is that of co-workers and regular associates that you may have regular dealings with. These are people that you maintain positive relations to because they affect your periodical dealings and having a smooth relationship with them will grease the proverbial wheels later on.

Then comes the outer circle. This is everyone else on the planet that does not fit into the first two circles. People in this outer circle are worthy of nothing and are not valued nor treated with value. This is where the idea of "common courtesy" gets obscured.

"Common courtesy" as is agreed upon in Canada seems to state that all people are worthy of the universal respect as outlined by the unwritten guidelines referred to as "common courtesy". If an individual steps outside of the perceived parameters of common courtesy they can expect to be verbally drawn in by their peers and gently reminded of what is considered appropriate behaviour. However most of these perceptions that are common to Canadians do not apply to the outer circle.

Thai people exercise their rites of circles by out-circling each other in lines. People do line up here but one must always be wary of all others within the line or approaching the line because they are all in the outer circle.

The others also recognize this and they expect that you understand this as part of their version of universal "common sense". Yes, that's right, they also believe in a version of common sense completely alien to us. People in the outer circle do not begrudge others who act accordingly. It is understood that it is not rude to act in total disregard to those around you that do not fall within the inner two circles.

Driving in Thailand is a clear way to observe the outer circle in action. People swerve in and out of each other with reckless abandon constantly vying for the pole position that will allow them continued leverage on the remaining traffic in their path. It is quite clear that all other vehicles on the road are not considered to be in the inner-circle. this is evident due to the complete lack of courtesy displayed between drivers.

Lining up is another one of those common sense myths that is not so common in Thailand. Many people in Canada believe that when many people are waiting for a service that they should naturally form a line and wait their timely turn of being served. However, this is particular to only certain world circles and is not necessarily the case in Thailand.

When line ups occur in Thailand they are treated only as a suggestion of who will be served first. The actuality is that the line will follow ordinary parameters but there will be outer-circle exceptions. These exceptions include people darting around those in front of them when they are not looking or quietly pushing in front of them. Another common outer-circle exception is when a person simply stands beside the line waiting for the right moment and then suddenly strikes their hand forward holding the item they wish to purchase including the money for it in hopes that the cashier will accept them first. Of course the cashier is also Thai and so does not wish for any form of confrontation choosing rather to pursue a "mai pen rai" way of being, and so, they will accept the outer-circle action without penalty. At this point you may be saying to yourself, "this sounds a bit one-sided. I'm certain these actions are only that of the young, brash, and impatient." However, when grandma pushes you aside to pay for her strips of dried shrimp and then proceeds to push the remainder of her family into the line in front of you, you may begin to understand. It is for just these reasons that I think "mai pen rai" (*Thai for "no worries" or "whatever") is an essential component to survival in Thailand. But one must forgive grandma for her actions. Her family is in her inner circle whereas everyone else is not and she expects all others would do the same. So, to not act accordingly would be to forsake the way of being that is culturally correct.

"But this sounds absurd" you say? The next time you are in Thailand rent a car and see how long it takes someone to "let you in" to the flow of traffic. After several hours you might just realize that you are in the outer circle. But when it happens, try to understand that it is not rudeness, it is merely a form of cultural social survival being exercised. And if you do get angry, then try to understand how maddening it must be to move to Canada and have to understand a system different than your own.

Swimming in the River Kwai

Mom and Dad have always come home from their holidays saying how much they wish they could do things with their kids like they are able to do in the various tropical places they visit. They talk of ruins, developing cultures, swimming with sea turtles and other things that one can only experience first-hand. Well, Dad and I were able to share one of those experiences whilst we were in Kanchanaburi.

Flowing through Kanchanaburi is the River Kwai. That's right, the historic river of asian death that is renowned for its carnage, and famous for the film named after the rail bridge that crosses it. The Kwai River is actually made of two rivers coming together; the River Kwai Yai and the River Kwai Noi ("yai" meaning "big" and "noi" meaning "small").

My folks, Cheryl, and I all went on a tour one day to various locations around Kanchanaburi such as waterfalls, caves, elephant rides, a train ride on the famous railway, hotsprings and bamboo rafting down the River Kwai Yai. The tour was nice and all but I think the highlight event for both my father and I was the bamboo raft adventure.

We boarded the raft and pushed on down the river. The raft consisted of a bundle of bamboo lined up flat and bound together. The bamboo was enough to keep us afloat with a limited amount of water coming through. Not long after we had embarked on our river tour our boat driver disappeared from the front of the boat proceeded only by a collection of widening ripples upon the water. It appears he had decided it was a hot day and that a dip in the river was the proper medicine for the heat. He surfaced with a smile on his face and the water did look inviting.

It took me about 1.5 seconds to picture myself in the water. It took another 5 seconds to ask our driver if I could also jump overboard. Then it took dad about 8 more seconds to decide that he was coming in after me. Soon we were stripped down to our swimsuits (which were still wet from the hotsprings) and had abandoned our inhibitions to the river.

The River Kwai Yai isn't just called big. The river is wide and at least ten feet deep at its shallow points. We were able to dive clear off the bamboo raft. We swam, jumped, dove, and dunked for several kilometers downstream. The experience was refreshing to say the least. Mom and Cheryl stayed aboard the raft enjoying the smooth ride, taking pictures, and watching Dad and I play in the water.

Finally, I was part of the tropical story sharing the experience with my parents instead of just looking at the pictures and hearing the tale.

I know my parents are getting older but they have taken on Thailand with a fervor matched only by those of adventurous spirit. I can only hope that I have the umption in my gumption to jump from the bamboo to the river when I am in my sixties.

*Note: Above you see pictures of us on the raft, our driver getting in, Mom pushing me off of the raft, me dunking Dad in the water (I add this only to give him a good 'ol punch in the ego), and lastly, the big River Kwai.

Ladies, Ladyboys and Gentlemen

As most people who have been to or heard of Thailand know there is a phenomenon here called the “ladyboy”. A lady boy is a person that would traditionally be considered male but is alternatively considered lady-like. In Canada we refer to people such as this as transvestites, but what a terrible term. “Transvestite” sounds almost like some nefarious vampire, rabid nocturnal creature, or otherwise creature of the night that preys upon some unknowing and innocent victim. Do we use this term as a way of expressing xenophobic feelings of unrest toward these individuals who chose to dress in such a way? I admit, the whole idea of a man dressing like a woman is a bit unsettling as it does countermand so-called “traditional” ideas of sexuality, but does it need warrant anger and fear?

In Thailand they are called ladyboys, such a much more pleasant term than transvestite. The intimation of a lady (a revered woman of social class and grace) and a boy (that which is innocent in its play) brought together paints a picture of playful and respectable fun. The term itself seems to indicate that Thailand is accepting of ladyboys. People are willing to incite a name for them that is pleasant as opposed to fear inducing.

Ladyboys are widely accepted in Thai society. I had heard that but it occurred to me one day when Cheryl and I were in a department store. I noticed several of the staff were ladyboys and I thought to myself that it was a true indication of acceptance. Most businesses in Canada would reject the idea of having a transvestite work up front with the public because the consumer would be likely to feel estranged by their presence, and so, revenue would fall for the business. In Thailand, however, the public is so accepting of ladyboys that they are prevalent in all aspects of society including the regular department store. If a woman can purchase clothing from a man wearing the very clothing she wishes to purchase (and making it look good), then Thailand must be in a position of acceptance. Whether it is mai pen rai, approval, or acceptance, the Thai’s seem happy with the arrangement.

Then there are the ladyboy shows. Elaborate cabarets showcasing the talents of the most talented of ladyboys. Some people are under the impression that these shows are some distasteful sexual display but this is far from the truth. The ladyboy shows are a cabaret showcase of talent. They are full of carefully practiced and performed dance numbers alongside amazing impersonations. The costumes are elaborate colorful, and carefully planned. The whole spectacle is quite an experience.

Shortly after we first arrived her in Thailand Cheryl and I visited a place called Hua Hin. It was in Hua Hin that we first observed the March of the Pigs as many of you have enjoyed reading about. Despite the local sub-trash of the area Hua Hin is actually a very nice place to visit. The restaurants are good, markets are fun, and there is a reasonable beach to swim at. There is also a colorful night life, such as the ladyboys.

One night when we were walking back to our hotel we happened upon some ladyboys passing out flyers for their cabaret. We thought it sounded like fun and would be an experience of the “amazing Thailand” we had been hearing so much about. So we attended the event ready for whatever it may be. The venue was a small place no doubt rented by the performing troupe themselves. They were all hanging out in front of the place and enjoying lively conversation and jokes. We were seated and served at our table and soon the show began. The show started with an elaborate musical number with the whole troupe dancing and putting on a great intro. Following were performances by Cher, Tina turner and Diana Ross, all with backups, superb lipsyncing, and a lot of fun being had by both the performers and the audience. Between the numbers were very short interludes whilst extremely fast costume changes took place. The final number was the kicker with the whole troupe once again and the most amazing outfits we had yet seen.

The whole performance was exciting and fun to watch. At one point I turned to Cheryl and said “This show is like singing in front of the mirror times a million.” because it appeared the performers were having more fun playing their roles than anyone in the audience watching them. I think the players were by far the most entertained but that’s not to say the show wasn’t well worth attending.

Once the fear of difference is put aside one can enjoy the fun of life and see the beauty of people enjoying some good clean fun. As the world progresses to the 21st century it becomes more and more fashionable to embrace acceptance on all levels. But once someone stops being fashionable and truly opens their eyes to the fact that what is different is merely something else they can learn and experience more than just the decisions they have already made about others.

Techno-Monk

Cheryl and I recently visited Cambodia for our Christmas holidays. We visited many beautiful ancient ruins and enjoyed the relaxed culture of Cambodia. But this is a specific story of specific moment with a specific monk.

We stopped into a small internet café to check our emails. Cheryl was sitting on the computer navigating her way around cyber-reality when I noticed that she was sitting at the end of a line of Buddhist monks. The scene struck me as odd, and so, I snapped a picture. Perhaps this is not so incredible an event however it was rather contrary to my preconceived notion of monks and so seemed worthy of a picture. Prior to coming to Southeast Asia my impression of monks was caught up with images of the serene individual caught up in nothing of the outer world, a slave only to inward focus and the need to ascend to greater mental heights. I guess it is a mixture of North American fixation upon eastern religion, misunderstanding of neo-zenistic beliefs, and maybe even some glorification of Tibetan ideals. I admit that my preconceptions are rather naïve yet every time I see a monk handling an 8-mega pixel digital camera, riding on the skytrain amidst the modern towering metropolis of Bangkok, or simply checking his email in an internet café I feel like I am witness to a fish-out-of-water event. Contrast does so lead to drama.

Cheryl began to have trouble working the keyboard of the computer as the keys were insistently sticking. She was becoming animated in her distress and soon the monk beside Cheryl started to giggle at her frustration toward the computer. Perhaps from his point of view he witness the folly and futility of a person becoming angered toward an inanimate object. But the moment did appear quite funny once the out-of-the-box laughter emerged.

When Cheryl finished I took her seat and began to check my email. I opened up a facetious message and began to type a mockery toward Cheryl saying how funny I thought it was that a Buddhist monk was laughing at her for her techno-inabilities. Suddenly I heard the monk laughing over my shoulder as he had clearly busted my attempt at a covert joke involving his influence. I looked at him and he said “Is that message for noone? It is just for fun, yes?” He had immediately picked up on the intended mirth of the moment and pointed it out with no hint of ego. He was formless in his humour and benign in intent. I agreed he was correct. He followed up his expression of merriment by asking if Cheryl was my partner to which I said “Yes, she is my wife and explained how I thought he was funny to notice her predicament with the computer

Night of the Zombie Dogs

We wanted to go to Kanchanaburi but by the time we arrived at the train station there were no more trains going that night. So we looked on the schedule to see what was leaving in the next 15 minutes. There was a train leaving for Ayuthaya, and so the fate of the moon sent us to our imminent evening of the zombie dogs.

The train pulled in gently and then gave a sudden lurch for a stop. It seemed to beckon us forward into the evening. It was not very late by most standards however there was almost noone around. The boats were no longer ferrying people across the channel, and so we were forced to walk the long way around over the bridge and into Ayuthaya. The streets were deserted but for a few souls walking about or simply sitting quietly in the shadows of the buildings. For a small city of one million the silence seemed haunting and surreal as if our surroundings were somehow holding their breath in wait for some as of yet unknown event to occur.

We passed by a a dog who a acted merely as most soi dogs do by simply noticing us with a turn of his head and then turning away. Then we heard the low gruff sound of a growl as he sniffed the air. It was then we noticed the man silently sleeping whilst sitting in a chair beside the mangy moaning dog. We tried to be quiet so as not to wake him but I’m not sure if it was out of respect or fear but the situation seemed to grow steadily stranger with each step as if the breath held around us was slowly beginning to exhale.

We soon found our guesthouse and after a few knocks on the door we were admitted to a room. We asked that we could go out yet as we had not had time for our dinner that evening. And so we ventured forth through the gates of the guesthouse and back into the night.

We assumed that dinner would be close by as the tourist areas of Thailand are usually teeming with small restaurants, internet cafés, and various soi carts and other small venders. But tonight there seemed to be many closed shops and few people. Soon we passed by a dog. We didn’t see him at first as we walked past the shadows but then the shadows seemed to change shape as he poured from them, pushed forth from the blackness as if being released. His back was already bristled preceded only by a growl dull and low, similar to the first dog we had seen. He began to follow us in slow pursuit. I turned toward him with a growl of my own to let him know to leave us be but he shrugged it off and increased speed, lessening the distance between us. When he came close enough for discomfort I finally squared my shoulders, stamped my feet, clapped hands, and growled further. He decided to let off his pursuit and meandered away. Thirty feet later we had a new predator. Another, much larger dog emerged from the shadows headed straight for us.

This is where we decided something was amiss. Soi dogs are a defeated lot. They are akin to the man who lies in the gutter drinking cough medicine, perhaps he isn’t the friendliest man but you would hardly expect him to bother you much less challenge you with a physically threatening fervor. But here we were amidst the k-9 bums of Thailand suddenly deciding to pronounce themselves kings of the night. It was like Mr. Hyde had absentmindedly left his medicine in the trash bin for all soi dogs to consume and we to bear witness to the results.

It appeared the evening had finally exhaled and all the evils of the witching hour were upon us. The dog pursuing us now was larger than the first and appeared to be much more adamant in his pursuit. He trotted along with a threatening arrogance that made me dash any thought of challenging him. We quickly crossed the street and quickened our steps, however, our attempted flight was intercepted by yet another dog. We hastened forward toward the next intersection where we could see some people dining on the corner and an open 7-11 store with bright lights. Perhaps the signs of common civilization gave us a feeling of familiarity to warm our fears amidst the twilight zone we were discovering ourselves in. We closed in on the intersection and began to cross the street when yet another two dogs appeared from the darkness. These new adversaries pursued us at a run with teeth bared and snarls erupting from their gaping maws. I felt sheer panic at this surprise realizing we were between many dogs all seemingly ready to attack.

We immediately turned directly toward the 7-11 store and it was then that I noticed the people eating on the corner were watching us without humour. This struck me as odd because Thai people love to laugh at the folly of falang (Thai for “foreigners”). The fact that they were not laughing illustrated for us the seriousness of our situation. We were not only scared of the dogs, but our fear was not funny to the locals, therefore our fear was warranted and we were in danger. We pressed close in to the locals and entered the 7-11 to take refuge and regroup our thoughts and fears. What was happening? Why were these dogs so heinous in intent to the point of senseless ferocity at random strangers? What was peculiar about tonight that these ordinarily pitiful creatures were acting so vehemently? It was like a bad horror movie where the sun goes down and ordinary things become satanic and extraordinary, except in this picture the writing wasn’t so corny (I hope).

We decided to abandon all hope of finding our supper and just get back to the guesthouse in one piece. We ventured forth into the night once more with only the mission of survival to a place of rest. As we walked we discussed the strange events noting the odd behaviour of the dogs. “I mean, what the hell is going on here? Is it a full moon or something?” As we rounded the next corner we found ourselves aglow in moonlight. The clouds had dissipated for a moment revealing a full, low, lamp-like moon hanging above us in the sky.

It was like the fates were laughing at us with a dark humour. Our musings had given way to reality. Was it actually the moon that had somehow turned these pitiful soi dogs into killers of the night? Who knows, but the moon was full, the dogs were zombies, and we were scared.

On our way back to the guesthouse we were pursued by one more pack of dogs and 2 more individual zombie dogs. The final dog to pursue us was none other than the first dog we had passed on our way into town. It was at that point that the man sleeping beside it arose to pelt the animal with rocks which enraged the dog, however, it did cease its attack. In the future I will remember that rocks are the spiritual anti-thesis to zombie dogs much like garlic is to vampires and silver bullets are to werewolves.

The next morning we awoke and went out for breakfast with no mishaps to report. The sun was high and the shadows had receded including the darkness of the dogs. We saw many of the same dogs that morning which had pursued us the night before, and yet, they were not the same dogs. They were sleeping, lolling about, eating garbage, and being their usual pathetic selves with no gumption in their bellies much less fire of the spirit. They were ordinary soi dogs complete with hopelessness. We joked that they were resting only to conserve their strength for the next full moon but joking is often a mask for discomfort which is what we were left with after the night of the zombie dogs.

Jungle Trekking in Northern Thailand

Three days, two nights, northern Thailand. Trekking through the jungle; crossing streams, bamboo forests, heavy breath, breathtaking views, overnight with a hill tribe. Rafting; both on bamboo and whitewater. From riding the river to riding elephants. This was our trek in Pai. Stop.

Chiang Mai is set in beautiful northern Thailand. It is a small city (a mere one million people) with its own sense of history, beauty, and kindness. To quote the genius of Borat, “I like!”

Cheryl and I had a three-day weekend following our return from India. We took the opportunity by the reigns and booked a three-day trek in Pai, close to Chiang Mai. My parents asked that we peruse the situation to see if it would be something they might like to try. Yes, it is, but unfortunately, this trek is for the young. Sorry, but that’s all folks.

The trek was arduous and adventurous. The first leg was the twelve-hour bus ride to Chiang Mai, which was the usual ho-hum/uneventful experience that one would expect of a bus ride. But then the game was on. We boarded a song-tao and immediately drove out of town into the foray of the wild. We stopped for a brief lunch and learned our itinerary involved a kick-off of several hours of trekking. At this point the most feint of heart in our party quietly put her tail between her legs and took her meek boyfriend with her. I suppose this was Darwin at work and we were soon to find who was the fittest.

After our lunch of rice etc. (the norm in Thailand) we were off at roughly a thirty degree angle up the side of the valley. The vegetation was lush but our guide was not, so we became thankful for our youthful exuberance. However, we soon realized that our guide had more youthful exuberance than all of us put together. He pushed us through at breakneck pace. It appeared “Mr. Whiskey” as he liked to be called was as strong as his namesake. We criss-crossed the river valley hopping on rocks, using tree bridges, and generally scaling the terrain.

We felt like warriors on a mission. Mr. Whiskey was spry and soon we were passing other groups trekking the same wild. It appeared we were the most stalwart in the valley that day. Soon, however, we were all commenting the need to band together in slowing down Mr. Whiskey and enjoying the sights more than just the strain. This we did, and soon we were taking in our breath out of wonder instead of weariness. The views were amazing; lush, panoramic, and exotic. At any time one could turn around and see an entire valley around them stretching on into the sun and the mist. We were in the midst of bamboo forests, rushing creeks, and the jungle that is northern Thailand. I would say it was God’s country but Buddha says godliness is attainable by all; so I suppose we were all gods taking the country for ourselves.

After several hours of trekking and some weary stops we arrived at our final destination for the day, a hill-tribe perched atop the rim of the valley. We walked amidst the bamboo huts observing the free range animals throughout the village. Families were working in various capacities and the children played. Our hosts were kind and we asked for little, just a place to sit and some water. This was our opportunity to get to know our group and begin the fellowship rites of communal living.

Our crew was sorted out from various countries. Representing at our table (or woven mat as it is in northern Thailand) was three Canadians, one Hungarian, one Swedish, four Irish, and of course Mr. Whiskey from Thailand. It was a great mix. We were all between our early twenties and early thirties with backpacks and adventurous spirits. We hardly moved all evening choosing instead to engage in conversation, some music, some spirits, and later, a campfire. Good night.

The second day included a trek to several waterfalls. The hike was similar to the previous day with many precarious crossings and fantastic sites. Along the way there were several stops of small local dwellings where we could purchase a refreshment and rest awhile or eat a meal.

The waterfalls were fun to see. Venturing deep into the wild is fun in itself but to arrive at an auspicious natural location such as a fresh water fall is an event. It makes the whole trek seem like a building towards a goal that does not disappoint. The first waterfall was nice. We took some pictures, at lunch and bought slingshots with which to exercise manly egos; which the men all had fun doing so until the trek continued.

The second waterfall was more adventurous than the first because it was in this one that almost all of us immediately donned our bathing suits and jumped right in. The water was cold, rushing, and exhilarating. Cheryl was kind enough to stay behind the first few minutes and take pictures, but soon she was in the thick of it having natures most refreshing of showers. There isn’t much in life more refreshing than bathing in a natural waterfall.

Near the end of our trekking that day Cheryl and I were also privy to another adventurous aspect of trekking through the jungles in northern Thailand; we saw a wild elephant! Cheryl and I have seen many elephants since coming to Thailand and even rode atop of one named Dodo on our wedding day, but we had never before come across a wild one. As we were walking on the trail we heard some slow but forceful brushing sounds coming from the bushes uphill from us. We stopped to investigate with camera in hand and saw a large elephant lazily munching on all available vegetation and slowly moving forward after each mouthful. They are such peaceful creatures. Although I would never want to be on the receiving end of an angry elephant I have yet to see one.

On the third and final day we did not trek. This day was reserved for elephant riding, white water rafting, and bamboo rafting. The elephant ride was fun. The elephant Cheryl and I were riding appeared to be a mother as there was an adorable little baby elephant that followed alongside us the entire way. We traveled along the sides of the valley and returned to camp beside the river where the elephants stopped to drink.

Next was the white water rafting. This was fun; a little rough at times and relaxing at others. We had some water wars with the other boat holding the rest of our trekking crew. Then we transferred to the bamboo rafts for a soft drifting down the river. This was a very relaxing portion of the trip. We were even lucky enough to drift past an elephant hospital where injured elephants are cared for. One was receiving a bath in the river as we floated by.

Post all our adventures we had a small lunch and then headed back to Chiang Mai to await our bus. The ride home lasted another twelve hours. The bus dropped us off on Kao San Road at five in the morning, so we went home for an hours rest before working at eight a.m. Work hard, trek harder.