Cheryl and Jay Who Were in Thailand But Now are Emerging Professionals in a Contemporary Society

An Ode to an Old Friend

2009-12-04T12:41:00.001-08:00

I wrote this song for my late friend Peter. I think of him often and wish he were still here to appreciate life and have a good jam. Wherever you are, God bless you brother.

Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.

More Music for the Masses

2009-11-21T15:17:00.001-08:00

Hello all friends, family, and perhaps the occasional interweb-wierdo.

I have spent my afternoon doing nothing but recording music. I have recently been inspired by the song "Mad World" that Gary Jules covered around 10 years ago. This recording is a cover of a cover. I hope you like it.

Keep in mind these recording are on the fly. Otherwise, please scrutinize it and let me know how to improve. Enjoy...

P.S. I am adoring this Gary Jules guy. He has been my latest musical love affair. Check him out at garyjules.com

Back in the Saddle

2009-10-07T07:40:00.000-07:00

I realize it has been some time since my last written blog post and I thought there may be some family members out there that could use some posting. Cheryl and I have been very busy for the last few months and our adventures have been grand. We have engaged in new endeavours, enjoyed the summer, and even travelled to the farthest reaches of planet Earth.

Our teaching year wrapped up well. I thought Cheryl and I were rather organized in closing our first year of teaching. Once everything was wrapped up with a nice little bow we immediately busied ourselves with our summer business selling jewelry and accessories.

We had a huge sale on Canada Day in Osborne Village. We were attempting to liquidate most of our remaining stock from last year and Winnipeg, being as cheap as it is, responded voraciously to our reduced prices. This set us up well for the next step in our summer plan; our first business trip overseas.

Once more we were packing our things to fly over the Pacific to walk amongst the Buddhists. It was refreshing to return to Thailand. Our first experience upon arrival was classically Thailand in that it required an immediate Mai Pen Lai attitude. Apparently the door to the luggage bay on the airplane was stuck. The voice on the airport intercom claimed we would receive our luggage inside of 30 min., but we knew otherwise; after all, we lived there once you know. Of course, after 30 min., the intercom once more intruded upon us to indicate further delays. This event repeated itself until about 2 hours later when we received our luggage. Mai pen lai.

Thailand was beautiful just as we remembered. We worried very little and enjoyed a lot. We even went to our old neighbourhood to check things out. It was such an interesting sense of nostalgia to return to our former Thai nesting area. We visited the Thai massage place that we loved. We ate at our favourite restaurant. We saw other falangs that were just getting their Thai legs in their new neighbourhood. It was fascinating!

Revisiting our old business contacts was a lark. They all recognized us and invited us into their shops to ply us with Thai goodies and generous hospitality. It was like visiting old friends. And we felt much more climatized to the massive market situation than when we first visited in 2007. We approached the sprawling market with a "can-do" attitude. We went in, shopped, bartered, bought, made deals, and still got out with our heads intact (a feat not easily attained amidst a market of thronging thousands).

We made sure to spend a few weeks on Koh Chang (my favourite place in the world). Although the rainy season ensured a lot of precipitation we enjoyed swinging in hammocks, reading books, swimming, motorcycles, and way too much delicious food.
When we returned to Bangkok it was a flurry of business; buying, packing, weighing, and then back to the airport. I still can`t believe how much we got away with packing in our luggage!

Upon our return home we took off to Saskatoon to try to sell our newly acquired goods. The festival was good and we enjoyed ourselves. Unfortunately, we didn`t get to see much of my folks whilst we were there as they were at the lake.
Ever since that time we have been adjusting to returning to our little house on the Prairie. Cheryl has begun her first year teaching Grade 5-6 and is enjoying it whilst I am substitute teaching and otherwise fill my days farming the garden and creating some websites for us to begin doing business online. I`ve already launched a pre-website on Etsy.com. If you go there and type in "Walk About" or "jayewert". You can see our first online products for sale. I`ll keep you posted in the following weeks about the official launch of Walk About Jewelry online.

Life goes on and we are back in the saddle. We are happy, healthy, and grateful for what we have. Between that and the fact that we have each other, I would say we`re doing pretty well. Feel free to leave a comment to tell us how you are because we always miss our friends and family.

Music is for Everyone

2009-09-24T08:48:00.000-07:00

I found myself sitting with my guitar this morning and writing a song. Then i realized that it has been way too long since I have done that sort of thing. So I took the time to slap a recording together of my newly born song.

Please click the link to listen and offer some advice...
example: put a bridge after the second verse that sums up the premise of the song.
example 2: try to suck less and rock more!
example 3: make the lyrics more universal.

I am hoping for feedback via "songwriter's circle" here so please let me know what you think of this track and I'll be sure to follow.

cheers

Jay

2009-09-18T13:03:00.001-07:00

Hello all. I know it has been sometime since I have posted but there is good reason why; I went all the way to the other side of the world and back! I'll tell you more about that later because right now I want you to know about what kept me busy this week. Please go to this link and find out.

Walk About Jewelry on Etsy

I hope you like what you see. I will now begin on a much larger project of creating a massive site for your imports. I'll keep you posted.

cheers

Jay Ewert

To My Mother Whom I Love

2009-05-08T11:36:00.000-07:00

Mothers are the first movers of our universes. Without our Mother’s we are nature without nurture, reality without comfort, life without substance. We need our mother’s to teach us just about everything that is important to know, and so let us all raise our glasses to our mom’s.

My mother is one of the best there is. In fact, she is so wonderful she didn’t even come with a warranty. I suppose God had such confidence in his creation he simply felt a warranty was unnecessary. I have to agree because to date I have not yet tried to return her. And why would I? She has provided me with everything from life to clean underwear. When I was young she was omnipotent and omnipresent. When I was a teen she was my source of undying, unconditional love. Even as an adult she is still my mother. She worries about how I am doing and what my future holds. She prays for me, dreams of me, and cares for me because that’s what good mother’s do. I call her to let her know how things are and she keeps me on the phone because she still loves me. I keep her talking because I will always have that little warm feeling inside that says she cares for me.

One Christmas I was in a bookstore and saw a copy of “I’ll Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch. I thought of my mother and how much I missed her living 800 km away. I felt sort of cheesy buying a copy of that book for her but that’s the kind of thing that melts a mother’s heart (and Mom’s heart always deserves a good melting). At Christmas time I gave it to her. She looked longingly at the cover, her eyes filled with love (because that’s what tears are when they are in a mother’s eyes), and she said “I have something else for you. I was afraid you might think it was cheesy but now I think I can give it to you.” She exited silently and soon returned with a second copy of “I’ll Love You Forever”. I admit, I cried a little (okay, and maybe a little more whilst writing this). It was one of those moments when we realized how important we were to each other. I look forward to someday reading that same book to my own children so that they know I will always love them just as my mother will always love me.

Our mothers are fuel for the soul and they are classically under-appreciated. I hope my mother is reading this and knows that I love her enough to declare it to the entire digital world. Happy Mother’s Day Mom, I will always love you.
From your number two son,
Jay Ewert

The Flood, The Duck

2009-04-17T09:38:00.000-07:00

The flood is spreading, receding, teasing, flowing, and consuming. It is hungry, heavy, and constant. It is behaving badly, possibly due to emotional scarring obtained in Fargo. Since it’s humble beginnings somewhere in the deep South it has grown to mammoth proportions. At times it slumbers, and lumbers slowly on. Then, with little to no warning, it gets a kink in its plans, the ice jams, and like a sock in a drain it obstructs all traffic wreaking havoc among all around it. Then, in the night, a crack splits the air, and just to be fair, the river moves on to new horizons filled with farmers, families, and prairie towns.
I grew up in the vast flatness of Saskatchewan. Our sky was endless, waves were seen as wind in the grain, and water stayed where it was told to. I learned that somewhere in the world floods could happen. I imagined those places were in some untouched region where unknown people lived mysterious lives unattached to myself. Then I went to Manitoba in ’97. I saw an ocean where there should be none. I saw the extent of the Canadian armed forces being utilized for purpose of sandbags. I realized that floods were real events happening to real people in my very own country. And, I realized that water does what it wants, when it wants, and the heck with the rest.
Each morning I drive between the town where I live and the neighbouring town where I work. In the winter I would greet the sunrise whilst driving with my coffee, music, and a smile. These days I drive under an overcast sky and observe the birds floating amongst the ample waves drifting across the farmer’s fields. I see water that flows, water that sits, water that waves, water that drifts, water that saturates and water that swirls. It is water that threatens and unfurls its gentle fury in an agonizing Mecca journey to the vast watery plain of Lake Winnipeg. And like the early settlers of Canadian history the water cuts its way through the lives of those already there and demands that anything it may touch becomes part of it destructive path. The drive to and from work has changed from a soulful sunrise to a pallor of persistent force.
The community binds together in a counter effort. We gather on the bridges and ask the same questions over and over. We continually reply to each other with universal phrases about Mother Nature, the will of the water, and many variations of “so it goes”. But no deal is ever struck with the water. I don’t know if the water simply forgot to send a delegate to the meeting or if us humans have slighted water at some point and are just now being taught a lesson. In the meantime, the prairie folk are doing what they can and that will have to be enough.
As it stands the water has begun to recede. That is not to say that it will not rear it’s head again, however, for now we are all breathing a little easier and counting our eggs even though they have yet to hatch. Perhaps the water is finding peace at its Mecca and the message is being received by the water still in transit. But there is always an aftermath.
This morning I observed for the third time a baby duck floating listlessly in a flooded ditch. Each morning it appears as a lone figure on the scene pining away for a mother that is yet to be seen. It is alone amidst a larger aquatic happening similar to how many of us feel when faced with the adversity of something we cannot change. But, like the duck, we must all do what we can, and although we may never find the comfort of the mother we can at least float with what we have. To those negatively affected by this flood, my heart goes out to you as it does the lone duck. You have suffered a loss but so long as your head is high you will live to see the next sunrise

A Round Tile in a Square World

2009-03-27T10:39:00.000-07:00

The tiles felt uneasy this morning as it had been discovered by the mistress that one of them had decided to sit congruent to the rest of them. One of the other tiles had awoken during the night to the sound of vinyl scratching and the sucking noise of glue becoming unfastened. A popping sound erupted and soon there lay one solitary tile, out of place, congruent, erratically strewn amidst the other, systematically laid, tiles.
The tile who had awoken to the building noise was troubled by the scene. None of the tiles had ever before been possessed to move out of sync with the others. They had been designed by a draftsman, pressed in an automated factory, stacked in meticulous grid fashion, boxed in symmetrical containers, laid by careful hands, and had remained content on the kitchen floor in a perfectly composed checkerboard pattern for nigh of twenty years, and then suddenly, one of them had moved!
As the morning sun entered the window the dust in the air once again rose and fell in a lilting fashion as it always had. The dew rose from the grass, the house creaked and shifted, and the people in the house began to rummage about as people tend to do. However, the tiles felt completely in disarray. One of their brothers had fallen out of line, thus catastrophically altering the perfect symmetry of the pattern that kitchen tiles generally prefer to lay in.
The tiles were tentative to act. They were self-conscious of the fact that sooner or later the mistress would find them in general disarray unless they were to act quickly, but acting quickly, much less acting at all, is not something that kitchen tiles like to do. So the other tiles simply sat there, each of them feeling distress at the disarray and chaos of the one who chose to change. They felt numb to act but were in terror at the fact that one of them had.
The tile that had moved was in a world of discovery. His bottom side was exposed to an air flow previously unfamiliar to him. It gave him a sense of weightlessness that exillerated and inspired him. He gazed up at a ceiling that looked exactly the same as it always had except that now he was viewing it from a 37 degree angle. Suddenly his entire world had changed. Without anything different occurring in his environment his world had changed, and it was all due to his one moment of motivation called motion. The tile soon realized that the world was a subjective place and that his perception of it was it his command.
The other tiles did not share the renegade tile’s point of view. In fact, they were quickly moving from uneasiness to outrage! How dare that tile move autonomously, without any regard for how they might feel. The other tiles knew it was only a matter of time before the mistress discovered the whole fiasco. But what could the other tiles do, especially when ‘doing’ was the root of the very problem itself. By doing anything at all the other tiles would only make things worse! And so they all sat, trembling, unsettled, and weary of what things may come.
The mistress did indeed discover the loose tile, and to the bemusement of the other tiles, seemed to think the situation was quite trivial. She simply retrieved the glue from the drawer, smeared a generous goop upon the underside of the offset tile and proceeded to replace it upon the floor.
As the days stretched on the other tiles found themselves wondering thoughts they had never before thought. An event had occurred; an event of deliverance, liberation, and freedom. One of their own had made a choice and turned it into an individual action with consequences and new experiences. Fate was now just a word to the tiles. The next night there was noise of vinyl scratching and glue squelching. In the morning there lay two tiles upon the floor.

An Ode To The Muse Amidst The Rest Of The World

2009-03-13T09:17:00.000-07:00

I have missed you over the past months as I have found myself unable to act. My life has become full of many small things that keep me busy and you, the Muse, has been left on the wayside.
We are all moving about our lives in an attempt to survive and somehow find fulfillment. We move in various ways and observe our movements, subjectively hoping to find greater purpose and a sense of wellbeing. I am similar. I am hungry in the soul. Throughout my days I find many forms of beauty that inspire me to action, but then the weight of reality and the pending nature of my “to do” list impress their power upon me and render me inactive.
Where is the balance? How does one find the time to complete all tasks they set before themselves and yet still find time to ponder, be inspired, and create? My Muse is fettered by responsibility just as many of you reading this are now saying, “Hey, so is mine!”
Is has been said that we are products of our environment, and yet, we choose where we go, what we do, and most importantly, how we perceive it. I urge your focus to be on the last of these for it is this aspect that becomes the most important. How we perceive our existence determines our outlook and future actions. A positive outlook can make any half-empty glass become half-full.
“Oh great!” you say “Now this is just another twit preaching how to get up on the right side of the bed.” Absolutely not! That is the kind of ‘quick-fix’ crap that misleads people into assuming they are happy when, in fact, they are miserable. What I am trying to say is that if you are not capable of seeing your environment positively then you need to change that environment immediately. The world does not owe you anything, nor will it ever. You are the only person that owes you a thing, so pay up or get out.
We now come to why I am calling my Muse back to me. Each day I find small inspirations from the music on the radio to the savantic mutterings of my students. Inspiration is all around us, however, it is only available to those who are listening for it. I have recently realized that my Muse did not leave me, it is simply that at some point I chose to stop listening for it. Then, one day, I heard something in a song, then I saw a pattern in the rays of the sunrise, and then I paused a moment when thinking of a fond memory. My Muse is here; always has been and always will be. So, am I calling my muse back to me? No, I am calling myself to listen and asking that if you feel similar you will do the same.

I Got a Job!!!

2008-12-15T06:58:00.000-08:00

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.

2008-10-14T07:18:00.001-07:00

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

2008-10-01T06:34:00.001-07:00

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

2008-09-11T08:20:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-13T09:45:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-02T06:44:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-22T06:51:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-04-29T14:52:00.001-07:00

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

2008-04-22T09:25:00.000-07:00

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?)

2008-04-11T07:17:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-03-25T01:43:00.000-07:00

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

2008-02-24T23:21:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-24T23:15:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-10T16:39:00.001-08:00

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

2008-02-01T00:48:00.001-08:00

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

2008-01-30T04:25:00.001-08:00

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

2008-01-25T08:02:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-17T18:53:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-07T23:45:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-01T19:19:00.000-08:00

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.

Dad’s Dog Doesn’t Live Here

2007-12-19T00:49:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-16T17:18:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-13T18:26:00.000-08:00

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)

2007-12-11T23:34:00.000-08:00

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)

2007-12-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-06T01:48:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-05T22:19:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-29T17:08:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-13T23:20:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-06T21:53:00.000-08:00

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

2007-10-30T01:36:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-28T22:13:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-10-18T01:29:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-05T22:39:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-05T22:28:00.000-07:00

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"

2007-10-02T07:23:00.001-07:00

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?

2007-09-26T19:23:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-25T18:57:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-21T02:04:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-09-12T22:21:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-06T17:54:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-30T02:38:00.000-07:00

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).

Kanchanaburi - Erawin Falls, River Kwai, and Tiger Temple

2007-08-22T02:21:00.000-07:00

One weekend Cheryl and I went with our fiend Amanda to Kanchanaburi where we had a great time. As usual we only had a two-day weekend within which to get there, enjoy ourselves, and then get back.

Our trip out there was an adventure in itself. We left immediately after school on Friday, ate some pizza at the Mall Bangkae, and then went to catch the bus on Petkassem Rd. We were told to catch an 81 bus to Kanchanaburi, but instead a different number of bus pulled up and claimed it was going to Kanchanaburi. Of course, you must note the particular use of the word “claimed”. After about 2 hours of riding around they dropped us off at a bus stop where we could catch the 81, which was of course the bus we had originally intended to catch. So there we were, having to pay yet another fare, and rather uncertain as to whether it was all necessary. Mai pen rai.

When we arrived we walked for a long time and found a pleasant little guesthouse that had a friendly staff, reasonable looking food, and a pleasant squirrel in a cage that did flips all day, how fun! The next morning we had a delicious “American Breakfast” which, as usual, consisted of toast etc. and some under-cooked eggs (for some reason food is not allowed to touch a frying pan for longer than 30 seconds in Thailand). Then we were off to Erawin falls.

Erawin falls was breathtaking and well worth the hike. The falls are contained in a national park, and so, are well taken care of and not overdeveloped like some parts of Thailand tend to get. The falls are about a 45 minute vertical hike up the seven steps of the falls and each step is beautiful. There were Thai families all around the pleasant areas sitting, eating, talking, and just enjoying nature with each other. It was great to see. In many of the falls people were even swimming, so on our way down the hike we chose a nice pool of clear water and jumped in for a very refreshing swim. It was fantastic!

That night we explored Kanchanaburi a little including the Bridge Over the River Kwai. It was very interesting to see the bridge that had carried people to their eventual fates during war-time. We took some pictures, milled with the other tourists, and then ate a floating restaurant beside the bridge. Unfortunately the food was almost all seafood, but the company was good.

The next day we went to the Tiger Temple. The trip there was similar to our travels to Kanchanaburi; we asked directions, were misdirected, then redirected, then overcharged, then confused, and finally, were dropped off on the side of the road without a paddle. Mai pen rai.

The temple itself was rather different than we had anticipated. We had expected the tigers to be free-roaming within the small canyon in which they were kept. However, the tigers were bound with chains and were very slovenly due to the intense heat of the canyon. The falang tourists were asked to enter one at a time with a guide to show them through. This was obviously to limit the amount of silliness that might ensue should a bad tourist decide to behave badly around the irritable animals. We found out later that the tigers used to roam free in the canyon a few years ago. Apparently there were some questionable events involving tourists that made them change their policy (hmmmmm). All things considered, it was pretty cool to reach out and pet the tigers.

When we left the canyon we were lucky enough to come across a baby tiger awake and ready for attention and feeding. Cheryl was afforded the opportunity of feeding the cute little guy and I was lucky enough to get to hold him right in my lap. That was definitely the highlight of the tour.

Although it takes a lot of time to travel to many of the places around Bangkok I am not tired of seeing the sights, smelling the smells, and experiencing Thailand around us. Sometimes we say “Mai pen rai”, but sometimes we are photographing ruins, feeding baby tigers, or being hammock-heroes on a tropical beach. Dee mak mak (Thai for “good, a lot, a lot”).

*Editor's note: The picture of the falls is taken by Jay Ewert, and the menacing looking tiger shot was taken by Cheryl Bates.

*To view more pictures from this adventure go to Kanchanaburi, the Falls, the Bridge, the Tigers

From Deep Within the Paradise that is Koh Chang

2007-08-14T04:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Reader...

I understand if you are about to hate me for what I am about to write but not only have we found paradise, but we will also return there during consecutive weekends. Several weeks ago Cheryl and I discovered the paradise of Koh Chang. It is an island off of the North Eastern shoulder of the bay that is Southern Thailand.

We took an overnight bus to get there and groggily dragged ourselves aboard the 6:30 a.m. ferry to the island, and it was worth the trip. Once aboard the ferry we were blessed with a sunrise off portside. Upon arrival we were called to ride a song tao to the far side of the island where our beach awaited us. As we rode the song tao I met a delightful Frenchman with whom I enjoyed conversation and breathtaking views as we stood on the back of our speeding tropical taxi. After many twists and turns in the road and a few breathtaking views we arrived at Siam Huts where we decided to stay. We rented a little woven shack of a place that cost only 150 Baht per night (roughly $5 Canadian). It wasn't impressive but it had plumbing and was about 20 yards from the ocean so it fit the bill. Not to mention that Siam Hut also had a massive deck upon which we could tan, read, listen to the waves, and eat very delicious green and yellow curry.

I won't bore you with the minute by minute details but I will tell you some of the highlights of paradise.

The beach we were staying on is called Lonely Beach and it is very aptly named for it is NOT one of those overcrowded tourist-ridden places that make you say things like "at least it's better than home." Instead, it is one of those sparse beaches with soft sand, few rocks, fewer tourists clogging up the waves, and a gentle breeze. Couple this with on-the-beach Thai massage, a hammock to lay in whilst eating breakfast, and nightly barbeque's on the beach for under 100 Baht and you have just about the most perfect place on planet earth.

Aside from the above-mentioned gluttonees we also enjoyed some other aspects of the island. One day we rented a motorcycle and sped our way around the winding, hilly, and vacation-slow-moving roads of the island. We stopped whenever it suited us to have lunch, look at the sites, or otherwise stop and just bask in the fact that we were there. Have you ever rubbed your eyes until they hurt because you just can't believe you're in paradise? Or at least decided not to pinch yourself because if you are indeed dreaming then you would rather not wake up? That's what you do when in such a place. You either disbelieve its existence or you accept it in all its fervor and glory. So that's what we did. By the end of the weekend we didn't even talk anymore, we just accepted the peace around us and every once in awhile we would comment something around the lines of "that's beautiful" or "wow", to which the other would reply "yeah" and then close their eyes again and listen to the surf.

This last weekend we returned there with two friends, Lainie and Heather. I think it's safe to say that they enjoyed themselves because they didn't return with us to Bangkok. We sadly left them there yesterday with our hearts full of jealousy. But we will visit paradise again soon.

Onward to Sin City - I Mean Pattaya

2007-08-07T04:28:00.000-07:00

This weekend Cheryl and I wanted to go away. We only had two days however and so we were looking for someplace close. There is a coastal city close to Bangkok called Pattaya. It has a beach along with restaurants and hotels, so we thought this would be an adequate weekend stop for us to relax. But there were a few things about Pattaya we did not know.

*Song tao – a type of taxi that is a pick-up truck with benches in the back and a roof etc. It will usually run a set course similar to a bus. It carries up to as many passengers as college students can be squished into a phonebooth and is a very inexpensive and fun way to get around.

We arrived late in the evening. Our first order of business when arriving at the bus station was to find a song tao to the beach strip where we were sure to find restaurants, bars, and hotels for us to stay. We were soon sitting in the back of a song tao and sailing through the streets and on our way. When we arrived on the beach strip, however, there seemed to be a lot more bars than restaurants. It also seemed that the patrons consisted of mainly older falang men with Thai women, many of which were rather underdressed to be considered fashionable.

We soon found a very nice looking hotel with a pool and reasonably clean rooms for a very affordable price. So, we booked in and went on a walk to see some of the local establishments. As we walked we noticed a definite forming theme in the businesses of Pattaya. It appeared that although there were many drink specials advertised it wasn't the drinks that were the chief thing being sold. I was very happy and relieved to have my wife on my arm as a form of protection. In fact, I was very lucky to have been under the protection of my wife. At one point I left Cheryl for a few minutes in order to walk down the street and obtain change from the nearest 7-11. This required me to walk roughly two-hundred yards down the street fully exposed to the local 'elements'. I now feel I understand the negative feeling expressed by women when they are cat-called by piggish men. Surrounded as I was by all the women of questionable morality, I was verbally accosted from all sides. I felt as though I were a raw sirloin steak floating through a crocodile pit.

Okay, enough of the politeness. I will come right out and say it. Pattaya had a shocking number of women for sale; more than I ever could have thought possible not only in one place but throughout the known universe. I now see why Thailand is considered the prostitution capital of planet Earth. I said before that the pigs are marching in Thailand, well Pattaya is a thunderous stampede of swine.

All that aside though. Cheryl and I did have a nice weekend in Pattaya. We spent the remainder of the weekend swimming in the hotel pool, eating delicious pizza in an Italian restaurant whilst listening to an extremely talented opera singer, and ordering copious amounts of room-service for $3 and under per meal. In essence, Thailand, like any place, will be what you make it. I am happy that Cheryl and I are able to enjoy each other and the places we are in despite what may be around us in the darker corners. I have chosen a good partner to keep a light with, and I’d like to think she respects me more than a crocodile does it’s meat.

Mai Penn Rai

2007-08-07T04:26:00.000-07:00

Mai penn rai is a term used by all Thai people. Loosely translated it means "so it goes" or "no worries". If there wasn't already a national anthem I would suggest it to become the informal mantra-anthem of the nation.

It seems like a nice concept; no worries about what is in front of you. I originally took this as a layed back approach to all things and thought this was perhaps a projection of a zen-like affluence within the hearts and minds of the Thai people.

Since arriving in Thailand I have seen a staggering amount of people all crammed into small spaces with limited room, economy, and resources to accomodate them. As I look around I begin to wonder at which time in history did this term Mai Penn Rai originate. Is it a historical reference stemming directly from Buddha denoting the taoism of ancient times, or it a contemporary composite of indifference towards the surrounding madness?

*Soi cart – In Thailand many people make their daily bread by selling food on carts. They often position these carts throughout the streets which are called “soi”.

I was once told that the definition of madness was doing the same thing again and again yet expecting a different result. In a city like Bangkok there are about 12 million people with almost no money with which to fund extravagance. Each person has to get together whatever they can to survive whether it is setting up a soi cart to sell various fish parts fried in oils, drive a taxi, or open a small store either under or within their home. With such a competitive working class there are, of course, many people doing similar things in very similar ways. One cannot expect to rise to greatness through the impetus of a soi cart business that is much like those on every street, however, they can say "mai penn rai", shrug their shoulders (yes, people in Thailand do that too), and accept the situation at face value. No worries.

Whenever something happens that a Thai person wishes to disregard for any fashion they say Mai Penn Rai. People do not get angry, they just accept their lot.

When I think of mai penn rai I don't think of a meditating monk forgiving a tiger for biting him, I think of the old woman at the seven-eleven that was just cut in line by the person that moved faster and chose to accept it rather than get angry. Mai penn rai is not just a way of "no worries", it is a way of silent vengeful salvation against the clammer of people around you. I think mai penn rai is a means of living amidst the many and somehow maintaining a smile.

You may read this blog entry and think me a determinist, however, I think that mai penn rai exists because people, no matter what environment they find themselves in, are simply determined to survive. Sometimes "no worries" is the only way to deal with overwhelming odds. Hats off to the Thai people for finding a way to find shelter in humility when pride is not required, nor part of the answer.

March of the Pigs

2007-07-25T02:38:00.000-07:00

The pigs are marching and they are in Thailand. I have seen them with mud clinging to their sides. They slobber on themselves thinking they are the master, all the whilst never understanding that it is merely their urges that drive them.

On one of our first travels to the near-bye regions of Bangkok Cheryl and I visited Hua Hin. This is a place of usual tourist-like goings on in Thailand. There are various places to see and thing to do such as monkey mountain, the beach, and many a place to feast on both local authentic and imitation foreign cuisine. Then there are the pigs. The roaming falangs in search of "love". They come in search of something they have lost, or perhaps never gained, and for some reason they think what they are looking for will be found in a bar.

*falang: Thai for “foreigner”

When walking the various avenues of Hua Hin one cannot help but notice these pigs as they march from one place to another. Most of them are male, in their mid to late over-the-hill status years, and are wanting to fulfill themselves in ways they perhaps never should. Then they find themselves in the land of smiles, amidst the teaky-hut bars full of cheap booze and even cheaper women. Whatever possesses a pig to wallow in the mud I'll never know.

At one point Cheryl and I were eating dinner in a nice restaurant and we saw a white, middle-aged man with his similarly white, middle-aged wife. He had the look a grown Peter Pan might have if he were to suddenly stumble upon the neverland he once left. She on the other hand had a look of reluctance and hidden disgust at the environment in which her husband dared to feign such a Panesque expression. I leaned over to Cheryl and whispered, "What is he doing? Doesn't he know he can trade her in for at least three wives half her age here?" As ridiculous as it sounds, in the context of Thailand, where the march of the pigs is thunderous, this joke came off rather well.

At this early experience of the swine in full swing I felt it was odd but dismissed it as an inevitable consequence of tourism. However, time went on and many other places were visited. It soon occured to me that these pigs were all over the place. They could be found in every cranny in which one might find a bar with cheap women and Thailand is not shy of its wealth of cheap women (and imitation ones too, but that is another blog). After several months of observing this strange culture of falangs behaving badly I resigned myself to the fact that maybe a pig is just a pig and that is the way it is. Perhaps if I didn't look at it I might reserve my cruel judgement for larger crimes against morality. However, tonight Cheryl and I gained a double dose of the pigroast and so here I sit, writing, and roasting the pigs.

Whilst dining in the Bourbon Street Pub off of Sukhumvit road Chery and I found ourselves seated between two such pigs as they grunted through their slop. Pig number one was sitting to our left with a family of Thai's that consisted of the father, the mother, and their two daughters of ages eighteen and ten. The final member of their entourage was a large falang man in his sixties who appeared to be the young eighteen year old's boyfriend. As if this weren't enough, to our right sat a man, also in his sixties who was trying to convince his rather young newly acquired Thai girlfriend she ought to marry him, leave her family, and follow him home to America. This seemed to be the moment for here to make her ultimate request of which I am certain was her motivating factor for being with him in the first place; she wanted money. She claimed it was for her brother, which may have been the truth, however that is not the point I am making. The reason these Thai women choose to allow the pigs to drool upon them and engage in such antics is for the money. Falangs have money and Thai women want access.

The pig on the right pleaded the woman to marry him to which she flat out refused on behalf of her brothers need for her to “work”. Finally, the pig relinquished his offer of marriage only to offer her 100,000 Baht to be with him for a year on top of the 2,400 Baht he had already paid her to be with him for the past week. As romantic as this sounds, the scene was unappealing as one would expect a pig to appear when it appeals to its own sty. This is the romance of the march of the pigs.

If there is a lesson to be learned from this story it is that the love I have for my wife by far transcends the experience of any mere pig and for that I am grateful. I am currently sitting on the throne of a beautiful union, and I hope never to wallow in the mire such as so many around us appear to be doing.

Panthip is a Crazy Hullabaloo

2007-07-25T02:29:00.000-07:00

This weekend Cheryl and I ventured to Panthip Plaza in search of a deal on electonics. After asking around about where to look for a deal I was told repeatedly to visit Panthip Plaza and now I see why. The plaza was five stories of mind-bending madness. The entire place was small proprieters all carrying variations of the same electronic products. The crazy thing was that the prices were very low because of the sheer competition of the place. There must have been several hundred vendors all with the same things to sell, and all under the same roof. Every inch was packed with cheap nock-off electronic wares of all shapes and sizes. I saw name brands of all sorts but one could never be sure if they were real or not, especially the "ipods". For the first twenty minutes I was very excited at the incredible deals, but within the next twenty minutes the place was just too much to handle. Cheryl was anxious to leave as one can stand amidst madness for only so long before it becomes contagious. We soon subsided to making our purchase and escaping quickly, however, when there's a good deal to be had on electronics, any man is tempted to return.

*Editors Note: The term "man" as used above does not include Cheryl Bates.

THe Line at the End of the Universe

2007-07-19T03:24:00.000-07:00

Today was the day that we finally recieved our work visa's. I would like to say that it was a heart-warming and exhilerating experience only it was the exact opposite of. Our school had many such individuals as Cheryl and I in need of applying for our visa's and so we all went together en mass to spend a day driving between government offices and waiting in lines until our back ends felt as though they were one with the smooth plastic.

If you have ever waited in any government office anywhere within the known universe or beyond, I'm certain you have experienced something similar. They are often crammed with all sorts of people coming together for the common beaurocratical cause of filing their names into a drawer of utmost importance. Failure to comply to do so may brand one unofficial, an alien, or worse, non-existent. And so here we were en route between us being considered simply aliens to that of legalized work aliens.

The term "aliens" does not seem unfair at this time as the immoble functions of a government office are a universal factor and I am certain they are the same on every planet - even planet Thailand.

Currently, I am sitting amidst the crying babies, the 7-13 different languages, and the room that despite the 14 air conditioners is unbearably hot. Be happy dear reader that you are not accompanying us on this particular adventure, and pray that by the end of this journey Cheryl and I will be legal aliens.

The Day I Married My Beautiful Wife

2007-07-19T02:46:00.000-07:00

The night before our wedding we were so wired full of energy that we simply couldn't let ourselves rest. We went through the motions of getting ready to sleep and even lay down to give our physiological selves the illusion of rest, but by 4:00 in the morning we realized that sleep was not about to happen. We finally decided that since we were not sleeping we might as well play cards until the breakfast buffet would begin.

At 6:30 we went down for breakfast. The Royal Empress Hotel had an extensive buffet that carried everything one could possibly eat for breakfast. The previous two mornings we had partaken immensely, however, our excitement of the wedding day seemed to make our stomachs small. Yes, no sleep, and no appetite; we were very excited!

We could not help but notice that it had been raining heavily outside and the sky looked as though it had no intention of stopping. We were crossing our fingers in hopes of nice weather. Fortunately the rain did not last the day. The sky cleared up later, and also, we found out that in Thailand it is considered good luck for it to rain on a couples wedding day. So it goes.

Jit and her husband picked us up on schedule. Our first stop was at their shop to get Cheryl ready such as her make-up and hair. This was rather amusing as the first generation of her make-up was a bit extreme. I think the application of make-up in Thailand is often an event not of highlighting details but of hiding blemishes and acquiring whiter skin. Cheryl had to do some slight adjustments until she looked beautiful.

Once Cheryl was ready we departed to our wedding venue. The venue was nestled deep within the countryside of northern Thailand. we drove up hills, through valleys, and down many winding roads that led to more winding roads. When we finally rolled into the venue we drew in a breath. The place was wonderful. The grounds were lush and full of small flower gardens. There was a small thatchet chapel-like area for the service, and in the centre of the grounds was the main venue building. The bottom consisted of a patio with pillows and mats and a kitchen in the back. Above this was the actual wedding suite. This was made entirely of teak wood from floors, to walls, to ceiling. There was even a small patio with kitchenette for us to watch the sunrise and eat breakfast the following morning. The place was breathtaking.

We immediately set to getting ourselves ready for the ceremony. We were nervous because we had yet to see each other in our wedding clothes. When I was ready I went to the altar to meet with the minister and await Cheryl. I had my vows and our rings ready in my sweaty and shaking hand. When Cheryl emerged from the venue house I could feel my heartbeat through every artery of my body. I was so excited, and seeing her only heightened the effect of it all. She looked so beautiful as she approached across the lawn in her weding dress. From her face I could tell that she was feeling similarly giddy.

The actual ceremony did not take long. We spent most of the time looking longfully at each other and trying not to fall apart from the shakes and happiness. We both seemed to be bursting at the seems. I was so nervous that I even messed up my traditional vows. Instead of repeating each of the vows, I instead said, "I do" and "yes" in agreement to all of them as tehy were read by the minister. I can only hope that Chery thought it cute of me and not stupid.

Once the ceremony was over Cheryl and I stopped shaking so much. It was like we could move on to the joy of being newlyweds now that we were passed the initial nervousness. We moved about the grounds with the photographer following and taking picture after picture. In fact, the photographer ended up taking over 500 pictures that day.

Our next item on the agenda was to ride an elephant. We had to drive awhile, but that was fine as our wedding organizer had arranged for a very nice van transort for the day complete with air con, drinks, and a cooler full of ice.

We arrived to see the elephants ready for send off. I think some of the locals and staff thought it odd that we were planning to ride the elephant regailed in our full wedding gear but...so it goes. We wanted to ride in style and that we did. Although we didn't have soup cans trailing our wedding transportation we did ask to have a "just married" sign hung on the back of Dodo the elephant. Our wedding planner, Jit, seemed to think this was very cute. We rode Dodo for about 30 minutes through the lush valley countryside. When we returned to the handlers they had provided food for us to feed Dodo. This was fun. We found Dodo was quite gentle taking the food from our hands in a very delicate manner with the end of his trunk.

We had a light lunch at a local luxury hotel before leaving to return to the venue. Upon our return there was a 5-piece Thai band awaiting our arrival ready to regail us with music for hours on end. We sat on pillows and drank Thai wine whilst listening to music and enjoying each others company. I even tried to play some Thai music. Meanwhile the Thai staff was preparing our wedding meal in the kitchen.

When the dinner was served we were in awe. The food was so delicately placed and finely prepared with every consideration taken to asure a wonderful meal. I would place it as possibly the best meal I have ever eaten. We had several types of curry with meats, vegetables, spring rolls, chicken, and other items. We enjoyed lazily eating small amounts over a long period of time as we wished not to hurry the experience.

After dinner we enjoyed a bottle of champaign as the sun sank away. Once it was sufficiently dark we went to the entrance of the venue to set aloft nine fire balloons. Why nine? "Because it rucky number!" This was a nice romantic touch to finish our wedding day. When we were finished we watched the row of balloons in the sky depart slowly bobbing with the air currents through the valley.

We couldn't have asked for a better day. Everything happened better than we could have planned. Jit saw to everything and all was perfect, especially my wife.

-please check out our pictures

"The Day I Married the Most Beautiful Woman in the World"

Night Market in Chiang Mai

2007-07-18T01:10:00.000-07:00

During one of our evenings in Chiang Mai we went to the night market. This was my first experience of markets in Thailand, and there are many. In fact, markets are as common in Thailand as Tim Horton's is in Canada; they are in every neighborhood and I'm certain the society would somehow crumble without them.

The night market was like nothing I had ever imagined. Over the last several years Cheryl and I have toured many festival markets across Canada, but the markets of Thailand are a completely different story. markets in Canada are often very well organized (knock on wood) in terms of spacing out the booths in accordance to fire laws etc. In Thailand this is not the case. If there is an inch to be had, three inches will come to occupy the space. A market will consist of carts crammed into every inch of space with each inch of that space crammed with as much stock as can be carried on a single cart.

People were selling everything from jewelry, to t-shirts and other apparel, to refurbished electronics. Then there were the food carts. These are a staple not only of all Thai markets but also of almost all residential streets in Thailand. They are integral to the entrepneurial mixed economy of Thailand. Food carts will carry, fruit, fruit smoothies, various forms of fried dough, and a million other such sweet things. They also sell complete meals complete with curries, rice, meats, soups, rolls, and many, many other foods.

My first experience in that night market was an eye-opener; not only was I not in Kansas, but the people of Oz wanted to sell me things.

Arrival in Chiang Mai

2007-07-18T01:03:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Chiang Mai airport, got our luggage an awaited our wedding planner. She came along with her previously Canadian husband. They immediately fell into the role of organizer, and host. Our first stop was at the consulate's office. However, the consulate's office was closed likely due to the Thai clock factor. The Thai clock is one that gives or takes time at will (part of a larger explanation to be concluded another time). Jit, our delightful wedding organizer, then took us for a tasty cup of tea whilst we waited for the consulate.

After our initial paperwork with the consolate, Jit and her husband took us for a breakfast at a quaint nook. This restaurant was like many in Thailand, semi-open air, put together with various materials including a sheet metal roof, with sounds of traffic and roosters accompanying the ambiance.

After breakfast Jit and her husband continued to host us by driving us to a tailor to pick out material and have me measured for my suit and to any other place we would wish. We appreciated their hospitality, but we requested to rest at our hotel as we were still quite jetlagged and had not rested the previous night.

Over the next two days Jit and her husband continued to drive for us, offer their expertise, and ensure that we were prepared for the wedding.

I must say I was very impressed with the tailor they provided. Arriving at the tailor I was once again reminded that I was no longer in Kansas as I noticed the torn up couch in the foyer the dirty pants and loud shirt worn by the tailor, and the geckos crawling on the wall. Despite all of these aspects the context of Thailand is very outside of the North American sphere, and so, I felt the place would be okay. I was not disappointed. The suit fit like a glove and 'suited' me quite well.

Flying to the Other Side of the World

2007-07-18T00:19:00.000-07:00

Our flight path was to lead from Winnipeg, to Chicago, to Tokyo, and finally, to Bangkok. Our flight took about 30 plus odd hours. The flight was not unenjoyable at times. Although our flight to Chicago was rather cold spirited. As soon as we were airborne the stewardess was very unaccomodating and quickly indicated not to bother her for anything. My request for carry-on storage assistance was met with an angry nod. Lucky for us this was not a long part of the voyage.

We landed in Chicago O'Hare airport. When we deboarded the airplane, as strange as it sounds, it felt as if we were immediately in a far away place. Even thought Chicago is only several hundred kilometres south of Winnipeg, it is definitely still somewhere over the rainbow. Things were not necessarily so different, perhaps it is that the United States is so much like Canada, that the small differences appear just that much more disorienting. For example, the people were all speaking English, however, the dialect was more like an uneducated version of cable television than the regular day to day speech of flatlander Canadians. The other differences were many, however nothing one could put their finger on in particular, but we knew we were no longer in Kansas, or perhaps it's that we were closer to it than before.

After a short stay and a dizzying attempt to navigate O'Hare International, we finished our ridiculously overpriced and greasy lunch, and then boarded a Japan Airlines Jet. This proved to be a step up on the comforrt ladder. As soon as we took off we were presented with quick and efficient hospitiple service from the plethora of friendly flight attendants. They even gave us warm towels with which to freshen our faces. We were even presented with the luxury of in-flight movies and video games installed into the seats directly in front of us. There was music as well, but I don't personally have a flavour for the Asian pop music and other such ilk offered on Japan Airlines.

After about 16 hours of flight we landed in Tokyo. We felt a bit weary for the wear, however we settled into an Asahi and a delicious bowl of noodles before connecting to our next flight.
Our final flight took 5 hours and landed us in Bangkok International between 1 and 2 a.m. Needless to say we were quite ready for some open space and a shower. This was to be the beginning of the cultural foray. Cheryl, being the seasoned traveler between us, thought it would be funny to see how I would react to the barrage of cab driver's which she knew would inevitably accost us once we left the terminal. And accost us they did. Once we crossed the threshold of the gates they were upon us like waves breaking on the shore and my surfboard was without a rudder.

There were dozens and dozens of taxi driver's all promising to take us the nicest hotel for the best deal complete with breakfast and all the perks. However, like all waves there was an undertow. This was my first taste of the entrepeneurial kingdom. Everyone in Thailand is out to find their dollar, or should I say, their share of the Baht. Keeping in mind that there are umpteen million people crowede together in Bangkok, it is easy to understand that one needs to be savy to get their share of the do re mi. Therefore everyone interconnects to convince all the fish to enter their net. The taxi driver takes you to the hotel, which has a deal with the bartender, who employs the cook, who is the daughter of the tourism company etc, etc. Each person gets a cut of the money that comes out of the falang, and they all work together to ensure it can happen.

Cheryl watched me telling taxi driver's, one after the other, that we would be okay. Then one sounded legitimate (oh, how naive), and so I accepted and we were off to the hotel he indicated in the picture. The hotel wasn't half bad for the price we paid, that is, if we were in Canada. However, for the price we paid relative to the prices of Thailand, we could have rented the luxury sweet in most hotels. But we were ragged from the long plane ride and were simply happy to have a shower and a place to stretch out.

Although we were tired we had incredible jet lag and so instead of sleeping we ended up hanging out together all night. Then we waited around for the promised free breakfast that never came (such is Thailand), and we were off to the airport for our flight to Chiang Mai for 6 a.m.