Elf on a walkabout

12 March 2010

Euphoria

I’m absolutely disgusted with myself. Thirteen days without running is positively scandalous; so it’s good I don’t have one of those PTs from Asia’s biggest loser here, slapping my face with a Carrot, whilst shrieking expletives in my left ear and looking ready to explode from ‘roid rage. OK, so the sunburn and dehydration knocked me out for around a week, but most things in life are learned the hard way and I now know to sip throughout the day. It’s six of one and half a dozen of the other – sweating in the heat and sitting in the dry air-con both remove fluids. That quite literally sucks.

From 06 Mar 2010

You’d have thought that morning running is preferential; surely it makes sense, as the Sun’s absence during night will make for the lowest temperature. C’est logique, non? Well, the French are always wrong – about everything – so I headed back to the Park for the penultimate hour of afternoon instead. Another lesson learned; next time I’ll go just after 6pm has chimed. I wonder why I’ve never noticed this before; the whole of Thailand grinds to a halt for the National Anthem, blared from any and every available Speaker at precisely 6 o’clock. Traffic even stops; seriously, the Tuk Tuks set down on the left.

From 06 Mar 2010

When in to my stride, I don’t want to stop. And with my headphones blaring motivational Club music, it takes a while for my observational skills to awaken. Has Hiro Nakamura stopped time, or an Alien ship descended – why is everyone stood still? I’m used to dodging in races – I’ll do the same here, perhaps I can see what all the fuss is about further ahead. Tentatively, I unplug one headphone and look around inquisitively. Happening to pass a Speaker, conveniently opposite three policemen, my ear is filled with the dulcet tones of the Thai Anthem. Evidently, it took a while to realise what was going on, but rather than chance an arrest I think I’ll stop. It is, however, difficult not to laugh – the propaganda clearly extends far beyond the Cinema screen and out in to daily life. I’m intrigued; it seems born of a Communist regime.

From 06 Mar 2010

Lap three comes around and I’m joined by an excellent pace-setter. Common behaviour in races this is; in fact some of my best times have been made through chasing tail along the course. Yes, I’ll admit to that; anything for that new PB. As it happens, I enjoy running with some fair competition, and as the fourth Lap commences, we’re gently jostling with each other and slowing up should one take a generous lead. We exchange the occasional hand signal, gesturing to keep motivation levels high and before I know it, I’ve done my four laps. A day off to let the ITB settle and a foot massage later, I’ll be back to get high again. Hard life this is.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/26285001

From 06 Mar 2010

09 March 2010

Random Ramblings

Is it human nature to always want what we can’t have? To strive for something that is just out of reach; to put right what once went wrong and hoping the next leap, will be the leap home. Sorry, Quantum Leap’s on in Thai and I got carried away. It’s almost like we need hardship in our lives and quantify them by overcome hurdles. In fact I think that’s straight from The Matrix – and I didn’t write it with deliberate plagiarism in mind, but it is a good point. Take the adverts here for example; the men and women depicted are invariably half Thai and half farang, with pale skin and wavey or curly hair. That’s hardly reality, but then that’s what Marketing is all about I guess. Back home, every girl owns a pair of GHDs, so they can painstakingly remove any hint of femininity and straighten it so as to mimic, well, Asians ironically. Light skin is revered here, as opposed to the elusive tan that all Westerners associate with healthiness. Personally all I want is a cool climate and easily accessible Park to run around and yes, it’s something that eludes me too.

From 08 Mar 2010

Thais like repetition. Take the music for example; it’s enough to make you plead for fireworks to go off either side of your head just to make it go away: Permanent ringing for the rest of life or this trite? Sold. If you’re shopping and debating between two similar items, ask the shop assistant what the difference is and odds are good you’ll be told; “same, same” as the answer. It’s even on the front of T-Shirts in Noddy letters, with “but different” on the back. And I’m sure you are, really, I find the paradoxical irony of the phrase awfully droll. Speaking of assistants, you’ll be followed and positively stalked until point of purchase. It’s enough to make your typical British introverted loner perform a 3-hit combo with their Pepper spray, stun gun and rape alarm. That should feature in the next Street Fighter game.

From 08 Mar 2010

Nipping out for a bite to eat this evening in Sukhumvit (read Deathtrap Dungeon for some interesting references to Thailand on that note), I can hear shouting as I descend the stairs from the Sky Train. It’s safe to take a bet that he’s white, but even worse is the realisation that there are two of them – dressed in smart white shirts finished with ties, and black trousers with polished shoes. One stands guard behind the other, whilst he finishes screaming verses from the Bible which he pointlessly shakes at passersby, angrily. Where’s my gun, this moron is wasting valuable air and energy, plus he’s large enough to feed three and a half African Nations, if skewered and spit roast for a few weeks. I just passed a stall selling crossbows and should have picked one up and fired a few in his jugular – try shouting nonsense then. Only a stone’s throw from the famous Soi Cowboy Red Light strip, I wonder if they have chosen this spot to protest at the debauchery, or whether it’s simply for convenience; they can hit it after wrecking throats and find themselves a nice piece of Thai poontang. Yup, they’re sceptic tanks. Who’d have thunk it.

If you’re craving a piece of UK delicacy and in need of some hilarity, head to the Villa Ambassador supermarket. Remember beans on toast from your student days? Or a cup of Tetley and some chocolate digestives – as that’s all your flatmates left you after eating everything else you bought in Somerfields? Better still, a Cheese and Mayo sarnie; quick, easy and definitely one of your five a day.

From 04 Mar 2010

Let’s put things in to perspective:
• Can of Chang beer: 30 Baht
• Fried Rice with selection of two Curries: 55 Baht
• Freshly made pancake with egg, banana, syrup and chocolate sauce: 20 Baht
• Iced Coffee: 20 Baht

That’s effectively a three-course meal. Are you mad, clinically insane, or just a Media Arts student? I’d far rather have a can of beans – it’s a delicacy after all; a gourmet meal, a treat for Friday night. Tis true, the Thais know what we like and are going to charge the Earth, Sun and a few moons of Jupiter for it. Cup of Tetley take your fancy? Clench your teeth and suck in hard, ‘cause “Ooh that’s gonna cost ya”.

From 04 Mar 2010

Spend enough time in Bangkok, and it’ll begin to hurt when sitting down from all the bending over and sodomy. Just pray you don’t have piles.

Felines are a scourge on the planet. Not the majestic kind, no I mean the domestic furball-with-claws from hell, that exude the kind of selfishness you’d expect from an Etonian female. If they existed. Canines are trustworthy and reliable, but only if well trained and having had sexual appendages removed at an early age. Boy, some of the sights I’ve seen here, it’s enough to bring water to Bitches eyes. And does. My pick of restaurants in downtown is Bei Otto, a quaint German styled Butchery and Bakery, where all manner of Würst and Beer are on sale and the waitresses all look like Gretal. Teeny four foot versions, that have to reach up to open the pub door admittedly. It’s eccentric but adorable. Food is prepared with typical Deutsch precision and panache and although it’s effectively Bangers and Mash: A Veal sausage, caramelised onions, creamed potatoes, broccoli gratin and gravy are like catnip to me.

Throughout this meal I’ve made a friend, who is in appearance identical to Puss in Boots from Shrek 2, right down to the mannerism of looking up and begging. Those eyes are difficult to refuse, even for a hardened cat-hater. If I was a girl (or a radyboy), I’d be cooing and saying something like; “Isn’t he so cute and fluffy wuffy! Bless him, I just want to cuddle wuddle him and sit him on my lappy wap.” But I’m not, so I need a demonstration of reliability. After twenty minutes loyally sat at my feet, I give in, only for him to Wolf the scraps I drop and instantly bugger off. Yes indeed, I still think all Cats should all be microwaved; bring on Vietnam. Rick Stein refused to try some, but perhaps I’ll ask if a Chef will do me filet du Chat with a Tail gravy. Finger lickin’ good.

From 04 Mar 2010

I need some assistance, dear readers whoever you may be, in deciphering the following mystery. I spent quite some time mulling over the answer, whilst sipping a cup of green tea and aiming my lens around Center World, like some kind of misfiring paparazzi on auto-fire. My puzzle is as follows and it is one of a binary nature; black or white, left or right, on or off, male or female. This should be simple, though if calories are burned when using one’s brain, I must have run a proverbial marathon with computations; I’m stuck in an infinite repeating loop, falling forever deeper through an endless fractal of confusion. Perhaps someone can help, as I have no idea which gender this androgynous B.O.B. is. Sitting forward, it’s clearly a male – the sideburns and short hair give it away, as does the jawbone structure (he reminds me of Jaws from the Bond films, though sadly I can’t make out any metal teeth from my vantage point). But wait, hold the press! Slumping back and crossing legs, and behold the instant transformation in to femininity. Optimus Prime would shit himself; this is one badass Decepticon. Plus I’m fairly certain those are breasts underneath that shirt. Yup, that crease is just too convenient; not forgetting the pink bag and girly shoes of course. Either way I unleash the judgement for you to decide.

And now a word from our sponsors.

In need of salvation? Don’t have the money to visit a Temple, buy expensive Joss sticks, flowers and donations? Then pick up a phone and call Dial-a-Monk on 1188. Our expert team of fully trained and qualified Novices are waiting to receive your call now.

Calls charged at 100 baht per minute

From 08 Mar 2010

07 March 2010

Bird Watching – Type Is

I’ve become a Twitcher. Rather than looking for feathered subjects, however, I shall be mainly sat patiently waiting to photograph my Traveller Stereotypes, whilst sipping Tea. I do say vehemently, it is impossible not to people watch with so much free time on your hands. It’s also perfectly acceptable – some of my subjects are clearly posing and pouting at the lens. It’s difficult not to stick out with my Telephoto lens attached; this thing is massive and generates some strange looks. Perhaps my models are hoping to appear in a Lonely Planet publication. There are, however, precisely two hopes of that occurring, as instead they shall be frugally listed henceforth.

The streets of Khaosan Road and surrounding areas have become catwalks and so it is that I have decided to serialise my findings in blog form, beginning with Type Is.

From Type I

Making up almost 50% of the total Types captured, it’s a hippy infestation. I’ve not seen a single dreaded farang in downtown Bangkok, on an excursion or anywhere else – in fact – other than Khaosan area. These guys aren’t travellers; how can you expect to see a country if you land in the most commonplace of areas and dig in as deep as a tick on one of the many roaming street dogs? They should get out their latest HTC touchscreen and email Mumsy asking for an advance.

From Type I

Now that I have your attention, I am most proud and honoured to be the first in confirming that Jesus is back.

From Type I

In fact hang on a second, I don't remember Jesus being a "playa".

From Type I

Once you’ve stopped quivering in your boots over half-inching that foldable ruler from WH Smiths as a kid, may I have some quiet please as I introduce the rare and lesser-spotted; Baldy Type I.

From Type I

Normally I don’t mind spiders; I’m happy to fetch the glass and cardboard to safely remove the invading alien. In this case, there’s no way in hell I’m going near it. The arachnid attached to this girl’s head is about the size of, well, her head. Sod that for a game of soldiers, I guess it must be her pet.

From Type I

And back to some vague normality with a female Type I for your appreciation.

From Type I

To conclude my first gallery; two of my favourites for your viewing pleasure. The former is arguably a Jesus candidate, but in actuality is simply just German. The second of which is the most awesome Type I since the dawn of dreadlocks, hippies and skin-stretching rituals. He’s also going to burn.

From Type I

05 March 2010

The old Theme Park ruins

Seven Kilometres on a train anywhere in London is usually around 3 to 4 quid. Cross a County border and it’ll easily step in to double figures. Last time I covered London to Sheffield, I recall the cost at around £30 for a return. Sacrificing air-conditioning, I can cover a quarter of that distance for sixty pence. I’ll spend all of a few femto-seconds debating that one then; and pack up and head to the train station. It’s an hour and a half to the old capital, Ayutthaya.

From 23 Feb 2010

Whilst my interest in Temples is far beyond fatigued, this place is like an enormous Thorpe Park for Temple fanboys. It makes for some interesting photography, so I hence suggest you visit it first. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and slack-jawed at the architectural ruins in this area, you will be, young padawan. I’m fast becoming a Jedi of Temples and immune to their force-pulling powers, so a day is more than long enough.

From 23 Feb 2010

Try not to get confused by all the noises if you decide to stay in “traditional Thai style” accommodation. It may look “cute” (as my sister put it), but the cacophony of noise outside is a wee bit of a bugger. Comprising tonight’s Orchestra we have a swarm of Cicadas in a nearby tree, Geckos roaming the eaves of my roof, Crickets maintaining a quartz-locked tempo and a dirty great big Cockroach scuttling across the large load-bearing beam on the flank wall. It’s a shame the Geckos are such girl’s blouses; if they teamed up they could surely take out the ‘roach and have a fine meal on their hands. I should very much like for some vernichtung to occur here, and indeed also to the snoring German next door. Ah well, just five more hours till the next intermission, where that useless frowning conductor will dip under the horizon.

The following morning and for once I’m glad for the sun. Heading out I’ll grab a quick Slush Puppy at the local 7 Eleven; making sure to pour my pint Guiness-style, or it’ll settle at half-full. That’s some good brain freeze. But wait, I’ve been cornered by a poor unsuspecting Tuk Tuk driver. He’s fully equipped; postcards of the Temples and even a pricelist. This is going to be fun: On the one hand he’s got the battle-hardened stubbornness of a Scottish-Chinese female to contend with and on the other, a tetchy and exhausted farang very much ready for a fight. Let the games begin. I’d like to share some advice on how to drop inflated prices.

• Don’t talk too much. Hold your ground and try to exude confidence.
• Stare them in the eye after offering a price. Don’t blink or flinch; they’ll see it as a sign of weakness.
• Stand tall. Eyes front, shoulders back – suck that chest in. Name and number!
• Take forever to decide. They’re impatient and will renegotiate every 5 minutes or so.
• Take as much time and ask as many questions as you can – how far is it, how long will you take, where are we going, what is it near, is that correct, are you sure, really, what’s your name, how do you pronounce that, where can I get a good Green Curry, when was your Tuk Tuk last serviced, should you be driving if your glasses are that thick?
• Be patient and remember to stand fast; smile if you want, it’s all friendly banter.

That’s how we do, y’all. What a team; the auction started at 500 each – our final offer is two hundred. As the gavel comes down, a deal is done. Remember though; even at half what they ask for, there’s some serious profit to be had.

I’m a little rushed admittedly, not due to the two hour restraint the Tuk Tuk man has bestowed, but for the immense damage the sun is doing to my DNA. Maybe I should buy an umbrella to help, or maybe a Burka. Here’s my pick of the day’s shots.

From 24 Feb 2010

02 March 2010

5 tonnes of pure, solid Gold cynicism

It really is rather hot. In the months leading to the monsoon season, temperatures tend to average mid-thirties and top out in to the early-fourties. That’s just great; I’m definitely able to withstand that kind of heat. Honky, pasty and with a hint of ginger (so my friends keep telling me), I’m undeniably made for the sun. Especially as now, I take as long in the mornings to apply honky cream, as a teenage girl does tarting herself up for her big date with Chad, the ripped American foreign-exchange student who loves Baseball. That’d be my colloquialism for suncream and looking in the mirror, I resemble Stephen Dorff from Blade, in the scene where they execute Dragonetti.

From 01 Mar 2010

Now that I’ve put my face on (and arms, legs, feet and neck for that matter), I’m ready to explore China Town. It’s roughly a 5K walk, but I’ve time to kill and need some form of exercise to stave off the muffin-top from further development.

“Tuk tuk?”
“No, thanks”
“Helloooo. Where you going?”
“Walking”
“Where you from? Tuk Tuk?”
“No. Fine. WALKING”
“Tuk Tuk? Hello Mister, where you from, Grand Palace, Temples. Tuk Tuk”
“No. NO. I’m fine. Happy to walk”
“Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk”
“My name is not ‘Tuk Tuk’ and I’m WALKING!”
“You lost? I take you, where you go?”
“Walk. Using my feet, don’t want one, go away”
“I take you, where you going now?”
“Minding my own dude, no thank you!”

I love these guys, it’s like bumping in to an old friend that you never actually liked, but in hindsight realise just how much you missed them when you catch up. Perspective is an interesting thing and I’m still relieved to be back. Staying in Lemonseed Rooms, the Scouse owner is a wonderful source of amusement (if just for his rasping accent), and local knowledge. And from this man I have learned the most useful phrase of the Thai language, ever. So useful in fact I’ve finally found an “Off” switch for all the locals. It works beautifully, causing laughter from the solicitor of business, or shutting them up in an instant; “Mi Ow Krap”. Think of a “Khatt” Brian says, “meow, just longherr” (it’s difficult to reproduce his guttural impediment in prose.)

Find a hat, a large one with an enormous rim (the horrid female horse racing type are fine – it’s function over fashion here), if you burn and it’ll help. Mine makes me look like a hillbilly, and we don’t take kyandly to yerr kaynd arawnd heyar.

From 21 Feb 2010

Finally stumbling in to Wat Traimit, I’m instantly overwhelmed by its gratuitously expensive construction. If Vegas did Wats, this is how they’d do it. Disabled and wheelchair bound? Not a problem, there’s a lift to take you to whichever floor you’d like to gamble on, Sir. Hot, bothered and sweating from all the gambling? Cool down with the water mist jets; they keep the punters here for longer. Worried about security? No problem, there’s a centrally managed key-coded system to ensure not one gram of that 5 tonnes of gold goes walkies.

From 21 Feb 2010

The myth of this Buddha image is as follows. The crane driver miraculously dropped it when transferring from ship to shore. Cracking, the core was revealed, which is pure, unadulterated Gold: Five tonnes of the stuff. Or so they’d have you believe. Personally I think the story simply adds to the mystique of the place and hence means the punters will flock – the colouration is just too bronze for my liking.

From 21 Feb 2010

There’s an interesting new game here – and it’s free to ensure new gamblers get addicted – touch the string attached to the left thumb. That’ll surely bring you luck and ensure that your kids are blessed with good teeth, straight As at school, a mean Tennis backhand and a talent for the Viola [solo]. Damn, I’ve been spotted; photography isn’t allowed in Casinos, so probably best I scarper. And just when I was thinking of offering them a suggestion; enclose the temple in a window-less housing. Without view of the sunlight, they’ll pray for longer and hence spend more. It’d also be an idea to pump in pure Oxygen, to keep them awake and alert; you need energy to bow down repeatedly after all.

From 21 Feb 2010

“Hello friend, I’m the manager here. Where you from?”
“London.”
“Ah London, my Nephew study there. Kings College.”
“Really, what’s he studying?”
“Chemistry, he very clever. Not like me. I’m manager here.”
“OK. I got that. What do you want?”
“Where you go now?”
“China Town. I’m walking.”
“Ah China Town. China Town, OK, OK. You should visit my friend, he make excellent suit.”
“No, I really don’t want a suit. Have nowhere to carry it. Have no job. Understand?”
“He do very good deal. It cheapeeer. Chinese New Year, holiday. So makes it cheapeeer”
“Really, I’m fine thanks.”
“You have map, pen, I show you China Town.”
“Well, OK.”
“It very far you know. Tuk Tuk, I’ll call for you now. Get you a cheapeeer.”
“No really, I don’t want a Tuk Tuk!”

Drawing his “friend’s shop” on my map, he also circles another area and writes the letters T.A.T., which in case you didn’t know, is acronym for Tourism Authority of Thailand. Or in other words, a tour guide ripoff agency. Steer clear, or as the 80s drug campaign suggests; “just say no”. If you plan on walking in Thailand and are white, brace for impact and expect an abundance of pestering. Remember – meow crab – just shorten the vowels, it works like Gandalf when he cured Théoden; “BE GONE!”

So back to the Temple (my train of thought really does waiver.) In a separate housing I find a queue of punters, ready and willing to part with cold hard cash, so as to receive a spraying with water. The Monk doesn’t own a Super Soaker 2000 though; that’d cost too much (lowering profit margin), and be far too much fun (boo), instead he uses a bunch of old Joss Sticks. How dreary.

From 21 Feb 2010

There’re all kinds of faces from around the world here, with Sikhs and Hindus also taking part. Not everyone decides to go for the drenching though, some opting simply to part with their money. That’s some easy takings – Vegas Casino management, I hope you’re reading.

On my way out, a swarm of gambling addicts has surrounded a Monk on all sides. It’s utter pandemonium as the poor soul is brow beaten to dispensing small stones (again presumably for luck), to the punters. The police oblige by vaguely affecting some protection – though they stand fast until palms are crossed. I assume the inundation of punters is the gambling addicts, who will do anything to increase their luck and odds of a successful bet. Atrocious behaviour this is; where the peaceful and respectful nature of Buddhism is replaced with an animalistic slant. I’m not so sure there is a Religaholic Anonymous presence in Thailand, but one is clearly needed.