I ended up at Y2K for the first time on my first Friday night in Mae Sot. Patrick and Brooke told me they were taking me out to meet people, but the only people I met were their significant others and a British girl named Mel. We had some beers and chatted. Someone said, "Lets go to Y2K!" Brooke got very excited and told me that girls wear fur bikinis there, and it was settled. We went.
People who have lived in Mae Sot for ten years or more have never been there. Last night was my third time.
The second time we went, it was an organized outing. Inspired by our first evening there, several people were persuaded to join in and we went en masse. Last night, it was just kind of spontaneous. There we were again, drinking beer and feeling like dancing, so off we went.
One of the funny things about Y2K is that I still don't know how to get there. It's the fault of the quantity of beer we have to drink in order to feel like going. There's a tricky turn involved and a small back road. I often don't have any recollection at all of even getting home, let alone how I got there.
Whiskey seems to be the only drink on the menu there and you have to order it by the bottle. I had never drunk whiskey before coming to Thailand. Actually, whiskey and soda is a surprisingly good drink. Or maybe I'm just used to it now, who knows?
Y2K is the local disco. The music is so loud that the building actually does shake. You can hear it rattling when you pull up out front. Men in white shirts and ties escort you to a table, if there is one left, then take your order. (Will it be whiskey or whiskey? Hmmmm....) There are stools but mostly people stand around their table. Unfortunately, there is no dancefloor and actually not a lot of people dance. I haven't figured out yet why they go really. The music is atrociously loud, so there is no chance of having a conversation. There is a DJ and a band with two female singers that alternate. One of them indeed wears skimpy outfits although she has been favoring huge boots and silver spacegirl clothes on all of the occasions I have been. I have yet to see the fur bikini I was originally enticed with.
I, of course, go to dance and my mission is to get the most number of Thai people dancing with me. Last night this included a table of ladyboys celebrating someone's birthday. I dont' know any of the people there and I doubt they know me so its a good place to go a little crazy dance around and be the big white fool that I am.
And that's what I do for a change of pace and a shot of fun on a Saturday night. Oh, small town life, look at what it does to you.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Itinerary
April 27th 8:25am Depart Bangkok (China Airlines flight 66 & 32)
April 27th 9:25am Arrive in Vancouver
May 5th 18:20pm Depart Victoria (Westjet flight 502)
May 5th 20:35pm Arrive Calgary
May 16th 13:00pm Depart Calgary (WestJet flight 668)
May 16th Arrive Montreal 19:00
May 21st Depart Montreal for Toronto (ride anyone? bus?)
May 23rd 11:40am Depart Toronto (Westjet flight 817)
May 23rd 13:50 Arrive Vancouver
May 24th 11:35am Depart Vancouver (China Airlines flight 31 and 65)
May 25th 01:00am Arrive Bangkok
It'll be a wild ride, but I'm looking forward to seeing you all!!
April 27th 9:25am Arrive in Vancouver
May 5th 18:20pm Depart Victoria (Westjet flight 502)
May 5th 20:35pm Arrive Calgary
May 16th 13:00pm Depart Calgary (WestJet flight 668)
May 16th Arrive Montreal 19:00
May 21st Depart Montreal for Toronto (ride anyone? bus?)
May 23rd 11:40am Depart Toronto (Westjet flight 817)
May 23rd 13:50 Arrive Vancouver
May 24th 11:35am Depart Vancouver (China Airlines flight 31 and 65)
May 25th 01:00am Arrive Bangkok
It'll be a wild ride, but I'm looking forward to seeing you all!!
Monday, February 14, 2005
Valentine's Day
After three months of waking up smiling, bounding out of bed and biking off to work full of energy and general un-Jen like morning symptoms, I suffered a relapse this morning. Not that I woke up in a bad mood or growled at anyone or stomped around the house with a frown, but it was a slow morning to get started. I decided not to force things and after whipping up a mango lasse in my brand-new blender from the yogurt in my brand-new fridge, I spent a delightful hour in my bedroom hammock swinging in and out of sunlight.
Dressed and ready for action, I rolled into the internet café fully intending to get some work done, but no one obliged by emailing me the relevant documents so, alas, I had to work on email. I also contacted several travel agents for details on flights home and although I found several good deals, I also learned that there is a special of flights to Madagascar: 575$ CDN return from Bangkok! Now, really, when am I going to get a deal like that?? Ok, ok, so I forced myself to look into Canadian flights again, but can't help dreaming of what escapades I might get up to at this time next year when I have left the refugee camp behind.
By that time of the morning, I decide that I should pick up lunch right away rather than go into the office, get a little work done and then have to go out again. I mean, we wouldn't want to be inefficient, would we? So I opt for a business lunch with Bridget Jones and her second set of diaries, despite having done absolutely no business in my day to date. There is something about working in a refugee camp that makes you appreciate the fluffiest trash in a way that is just not otherwise possible.
So here we go: rolling into work just before lunch and there is a management meeting in full swing downstairs. I have to walk by all the head people in order to get upstairs to my "office," so clearly I am starting off my week by making good impressions.
Air conditioner on, cup of coffee in hand, I settle down to work. My first order of business is reading through an immense tome in French on elements of translation. I am aiming to finish the translation unit in class this week and want to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything important. I love teaching things I don't know much about. Translation is definitely easier than the time I got stuck teaching a kayaking class although less fun. Clearly I abandon the tome and opt for some blogging.
Oh and that's right, it's Valentine's Day. It was non-stop love songs in the Pad Thai shop, which made eating difficult because the urge was to constantly gag. There have been the tackiest red roses and plastic hearts decorating the wealthier areas of town and the price of red roses in the market place (usually dirt cheap) has skyrocketed overnight, but the exact day eluded me. I am going to show my love for my students by writing their final translation exam today, This evening, I have a hot date in the park with an aerobics instructor. I am going to join millions of Thai women all over the country in their daily public aerobics work out. At the very least, it will help me remember how to count in Thai and I will be getting hot and sweaty on Valentines one way or another!
Dressed and ready for action, I rolled into the internet café fully intending to get some work done, but no one obliged by emailing me the relevant documents so, alas, I had to work on email. I also contacted several travel agents for details on flights home and although I found several good deals, I also learned that there is a special of flights to Madagascar: 575$ CDN return from Bangkok! Now, really, when am I going to get a deal like that?? Ok, ok, so I forced myself to look into Canadian flights again, but can't help dreaming of what escapades I might get up to at this time next year when I have left the refugee camp behind.
By that time of the morning, I decide that I should pick up lunch right away rather than go into the office, get a little work done and then have to go out again. I mean, we wouldn't want to be inefficient, would we? So I opt for a business lunch with Bridget Jones and her second set of diaries, despite having done absolutely no business in my day to date. There is something about working in a refugee camp that makes you appreciate the fluffiest trash in a way that is just not otherwise possible.
So here we go: rolling into work just before lunch and there is a management meeting in full swing downstairs. I have to walk by all the head people in order to get upstairs to my "office," so clearly I am starting off my week by making good impressions.
Air conditioner on, cup of coffee in hand, I settle down to work. My first order of business is reading through an immense tome in French on elements of translation. I am aiming to finish the translation unit in class this week and want to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything important. I love teaching things I don't know much about. Translation is definitely easier than the time I got stuck teaching a kayaking class although less fun. Clearly I abandon the tome and opt for some blogging.
Oh and that's right, it's Valentine's Day. It was non-stop love songs in the Pad Thai shop, which made eating difficult because the urge was to constantly gag. There have been the tackiest red roses and plastic hearts decorating the wealthier areas of town and the price of red roses in the market place (usually dirt cheap) has skyrocketed overnight, but the exact day eluded me. I am going to show my love for my students by writing their final translation exam today, This evening, I have a hot date in the park with an aerobics instructor. I am going to join millions of Thai women all over the country in their daily public aerobics work out. At the very least, it will help me remember how to count in Thai and I will be getting hot and sweaty on Valentines one way or another!
Friday, February 11, 2005
Chinese New Year
Chinese New Year
Last Monday I was awoken by the sounds of explosions going off at midnight. I smelled smoke and saw flashes of fire out my window. In my half-asleep daze, I was sure there was a gun battle raging in the Chinese factory next to the monastery. Machine guns rattled and retaliated. Someone threw a grenade. What to do? Sleepily I reproached myself, "Jen, you really should have thought up a plan for a situation like this." I did the only sensible thing when there is a gang war or military scheme unraveling across the street and rolled over and fell back asleep, dreaming that there were tanks rolling down the four lane highway near my house from the border.
The gun battles raged throughout Mae Sot all through the week and luckily I was in Umphiem most of the time so actually managed several nights of good sleep and preserved the integrity of my ear drums. There were no guns involved, obviously and no war going on, only unparalleled firecrackers of incredible power. They come on long strings and go off in clouds of smoke and fire, leaving behind shards of red paper which littered the streets all week. I got caught in a crowd and ended up next to one one morning. Even with my hands over my ears I was in pain. When the little explosions have gone off (the machine gun fire), there are two big ones at the end, (the grenade launchers I heard at midnight).
Chinese New Year was on Wednesday and the firecrackers have been going nonstop day and night from Monday until Saturday. In Bangkok, I am told there are over 3 million people gathered in the squares of China Town celebrating with the largest dragon dance outside of Beijing in the world. In Mae Sot the dragons dancing through town on Saturday morning were quite small but lively. Teams of young men wearing yellow danced through the streets wheeling huge drums, playing tambourines and cymbals and following the dragons. They left behind them clouds of smoke and perfumed incense. Shopkeepers were sweeping up the red papers for days. Every corner I turned yielded another dragon, another crowd of dancers. On a parallel street a parade passed with middle aged women in short skirts and a marching band. There was a sense of celebration and excitement and the thrill of the unexpected. Dragons entered shops, eating paper offerings and bestowing luck. One winked at me as it went by and the boys all capered before my camera. Everyone was out on the streets smiling in a blur of red and yellow and a swirl of smoke that tasted of gunpowder.
Happy New Year!
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Food
I am hanging off the back of the line car staring up at the great blue sky and watching the bamboo leafs flutter, green, overhead. The car is very full. There are several families inside and a few people transporting big bags of goods to the market in Umphiem. And there is one big white girl hanging off the back with a big grin on her face and the cool breeze in her hair.
One of the bags of green mangoes gets jostled from its precarious perch as we rumble uphill in a cloud of exhaust. One rope holds it to the truck and it drags behind us as I try to motion to someone closer to pay attention and do something. By the time the closest man is aware of the problem, the plastic bag has a hole in it and green mangoes are tumbling out of the bag, rolling end over end down the hill and into the sunshine…
Green mangoes are almost more popular than ripened ones. You peel the mango and slice it up. You mix dried chilies with sugar and fish sauce, which in itself is quite the, um, flavorful, concoction. Then you dip the green mangoes into the sauce and eat. North Americans just don't have a taste sensation that is at all comparable. So sour it makes your eyes water, so spicy it makes your nose run, yet at the same time sweet and tasty. Strangely addictive.
There is one stall in the market that always fascinates me. There are tubs with fish that look like eels, still alive, squirming around in shallow, dirty water. There are small turtles doing turtle things amidst the market bustle with dead fish heads in their plastic containers (are turtles carnivores?) And there are bundles or fat frogs; still alive, jerking and tied in bunches. These must be special frogs because anyone who wanted the regular kind only has to sit out on a road at night. Biking outside of town in the dark, you have to drive slowly to avoid squashing the dark hunks slowly hopping across the road. In the morning, almost every road, including my own, is littered with the dead, flattened bodies of these nighttime creatures. Or perhaps they are toads. I can't claim to know the difference.
Frogs are good for several dishes. My favorite, however, is frog chili. For those of you who want to try this one at home, it is a fairly simple recipe, one that is sure to endear you with the neighbors and dinner guests:
Once the frogs have been prepared, (admittedly, I'm not sure how this is done. Do you have to remove the insides, or are they good to eat? Peel the skin off like potatoes?) Put the meat into a small pot of boiling water. (For extra flavor, add a bullion cube or use chicken stock.) Proceed to boil the crap out of that frog. In fact, the frog should be boiled to the point where its body has been reduced to a paste. This makes an excellent base for a chili, and it's full of protein too! (And who knows what else?) From this point on, your options are endless: boiled chilies, chili powder, fried chilies? Tomato and garlic frog chili? Fish paste and dried fish chili? I'll leave the additional ingredients up to your discretion.
Friday morning in the office, I am sipping Lipton's Yellow Label Tea and eating a store made loaf of banana bread. It's been a rough week on my stomach so I'm taking a break. Hmmmm…. I wonder why?
One of the bags of green mangoes gets jostled from its precarious perch as we rumble uphill in a cloud of exhaust. One rope holds it to the truck and it drags behind us as I try to motion to someone closer to pay attention and do something. By the time the closest man is aware of the problem, the plastic bag has a hole in it and green mangoes are tumbling out of the bag, rolling end over end down the hill and into the sunshine…
Green mangoes are almost more popular than ripened ones. You peel the mango and slice it up. You mix dried chilies with sugar and fish sauce, which in itself is quite the, um, flavorful, concoction. Then you dip the green mangoes into the sauce and eat. North Americans just don't have a taste sensation that is at all comparable. So sour it makes your eyes water, so spicy it makes your nose run, yet at the same time sweet and tasty. Strangely addictive.
There is one stall in the market that always fascinates me. There are tubs with fish that look like eels, still alive, squirming around in shallow, dirty water. There are small turtles doing turtle things amidst the market bustle with dead fish heads in their plastic containers (are turtles carnivores?) And there are bundles or fat frogs; still alive, jerking and tied in bunches. These must be special frogs because anyone who wanted the regular kind only has to sit out on a road at night. Biking outside of town in the dark, you have to drive slowly to avoid squashing the dark hunks slowly hopping across the road. In the morning, almost every road, including my own, is littered with the dead, flattened bodies of these nighttime creatures. Or perhaps they are toads. I can't claim to know the difference.
Frogs are good for several dishes. My favorite, however, is frog chili. For those of you who want to try this one at home, it is a fairly simple recipe, one that is sure to endear you with the neighbors and dinner guests:
Once the frogs have been prepared, (admittedly, I'm not sure how this is done. Do you have to remove the insides, or are they good to eat? Peel the skin off like potatoes?) Put the meat into a small pot of boiling water. (For extra flavor, add a bullion cube or use chicken stock.) Proceed to boil the crap out of that frog. In fact, the frog should be boiled to the point where its body has been reduced to a paste. This makes an excellent base for a chili, and it's full of protein too! (And who knows what else?) From this point on, your options are endless: boiled chilies, chili powder, fried chilies? Tomato and garlic frog chili? Fish paste and dried fish chili? I'll leave the additional ingredients up to your discretion.
Friday morning in the office, I am sipping Lipton's Yellow Label Tea and eating a store made loaf of banana bread. It's been a rough week on my stomach so I'm taking a break. Hmmmm…. I wonder why?
Monday, February 07, 2005
Sunday, February 06, 2005
UNESCO World Heritage Site
It was a fairly normal week in Mae Sot:
On Monday, I had food poisoning. On Tuesday, I had dinner with a private arms dealer. On Saturday, I rode in a truck with a sweat-shop owner and visited a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The World Heritage Site wasn't part of my normal week, actually. Despite being tired from the long trip back from camp, I have decided to do some traveling at least once a month and get out of Mae Sot and see some of Thailand. This weekend I took a minibus up to Sukhothai. Sukhothai is one of Thailand ancient capitals, a walled city full of temples and Wats. Today it is a tourist park with crumbling stone ruins and manicured lawns. It's the perfect place for a relaxing weekend getaway.
I rented a bicycle for the day and cycled through the ruins, taking over a hundred pictures of the stone Buddhas. I took off my sandals with the Thai Buddhists and walked on the hot stone, kneeling before the incense under the hot sun. Outside the old city walls, I found a route alongside a small canal where women waded, fishing with large nets and boys splashed about in the shade. The ruins outside the walls are emptier, overgrown with weeds. Buddhas sitting in lotus positions in niches are missing heads or parts of their legs. Pigeons rise from deserted stone towers. On the horizon, the mountains are clearly visible, getting hazier and more indistinct and fading into the sky in the distance. One of them is said to look like a reclining Buddha, but I can't tell which one.
To the West of the old city, I make what the Rough Guide describes as "a long haul" out to another ruin site. This long haul is well sign posted, entirely flat and amidst beautiful rice paddies and fields. It takes fifteen minutes of lazy cycling. I am alone at the site as I climb the stone slabs that lead to the top of this hill where an ancient Buddha is waiting. The view from the top is green, all green. In the distance things dissolve into smoke, but the towers from the ancient Wats are still visible.
I spend my evening quietly, reading on the teak porch of the guesthouse in the shade and wandering through the night market. It is nice not to have to talk to anyone, a reprieve from the usual intense conversations of Mae Sot. It's nice to by anonymous. I sip an Oreo milkshake in the night market with a smile … this is a beautiful life to be living.
Buddha on the hill
On Monday, I had food poisoning. On Tuesday, I had dinner with a private arms dealer. On Saturday, I rode in a truck with a sweat-shop owner and visited a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The World Heritage Site wasn't part of my normal week, actually. Despite being tired from the long trip back from camp, I have decided to do some traveling at least once a month and get out of Mae Sot and see some of Thailand. This weekend I took a minibus up to Sukhothai. Sukhothai is one of Thailand ancient capitals, a walled city full of temples and Wats. Today it is a tourist park with crumbling stone ruins and manicured lawns. It's the perfect place for a relaxing weekend getaway.
I rented a bicycle for the day and cycled through the ruins, taking over a hundred pictures of the stone Buddhas. I took off my sandals with the Thai Buddhists and walked on the hot stone, kneeling before the incense under the hot sun. Outside the old city walls, I found a route alongside a small canal where women waded, fishing with large nets and boys splashed about in the shade. The ruins outside the walls are emptier, overgrown with weeds. Buddhas sitting in lotus positions in niches are missing heads or parts of their legs. Pigeons rise from deserted stone towers. On the horizon, the mountains are clearly visible, getting hazier and more indistinct and fading into the sky in the distance. One of them is said to look like a reclining Buddha, but I can't tell which one.
To the West of the old city, I make what the Rough Guide describes as "a long haul" out to another ruin site. This long haul is well sign posted, entirely flat and amidst beautiful rice paddies and fields. It takes fifteen minutes of lazy cycling. I am alone at the site as I climb the stone slabs that lead to the top of this hill where an ancient Buddha is waiting. The view from the top is green, all green. In the distance things dissolve into smoke, but the towers from the ancient Wats are still visible.
I spend my evening quietly, reading on the teak porch of the guesthouse in the shade and wandering through the night market. It is nice not to have to talk to anyone, a reprieve from the usual intense conversations of Mae Sot. It's nice to by anonymous. I sip an Oreo milkshake in the night market with a smile … this is a beautiful life to be living.
Buddha on the hill
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