Flies, shit and holy men

I'm tense. I could use a massage, but I think India is the wrong place for that. Wouldn't have a clue where to look. Still don't even know where I can buy a beer. A Kingfisher, please. Apparently I was too late for that tonight. At least I got my artificial mango juice. I was lucky that guy hadn't shuttered his shop otherwise I might be in even more dire straits. That hit the spot for a minute.


Take a load off, you might advise. Well, I just dissolved a pack of Vegeta, a natural dietary fibre supplement I purchased in Indonesia a few months ago, with some water hoping to take a load out. Same same? It might not have been a good idea considering I'm sharing a bathroom tonight. I got a nice room near the Ganges for only $4 a night! See, I'm that fucking guy already.

I love Indian food, I really do. But I've decided it's not meant to be eaten every day. Not by me. I rarely eat bread anymore or anything with wheat other than some processed, sweetened goodies I feel inclined to eat when I haven't had my beer. Oh, that has wheat too, doesn't it? Anyway, there's a lot of bread [naan, chappati, puri and roti for example] in India that I seem to be consuming. And it's fucking my shit up, quite literally.

Speaking of shit, I stepped in some fresh cow shit walking around this evening looking for the aforementioned mango juice. Watch your step, I heard people saying earlier. It's pretty easy to spot there in the middle of the street. Not, however, at night walking down a dimly lit lane and trying to get through  some cows that are just "hanging out" wherever they please. I'm still a bit frightened of cows, especially those with horns, after that water buffalo charging incident a few years ago.

So, I had some shit on my flip flop and on my big toe. It slid right into the muck, like stepping on a banana peel. At least I didn't land on my ass. Aside from the plethora of cow shit, there are also a lot of flies. As you might imagine. It doesn't smell that bad, considering the turds, flies, people peeing on walls, bodies being burned into the Ganges and undoubtedly sewage pipes leading there as well. And me, releasing excess gas with every step, provided I know it's not liquid gas. Imagine.

Varanasi is a strange place. Well, no, India is a strange place. Maybe not for an Indian, but for me. I like it sometimes and other times I want to come running back to Thailand or Cambodia or Vietnam or Indonesia or anywhere but India! I want to be be surrounded by beautiful women, I want to eat food that doesn't give me gas, I want to not be stared at - oh wait, cancel Vietnam - and I want to learn a language I want to learn. I'm sorry, but Hindi just doesn't interest me.

So, get the fuck out of India, ya fucking bastard! Hey, give me some more time. I'll eventually leave it to the hippies. And the people lounging outside my room playing the flute. For fuck's sake, put that shit on mute! Almost needed a beer because of that. Instead, I put in the ear buds and saved a little sanity in the process. Got these four Spanish hippies playing the flute and singing Kumbaya outside my room. I paid for it, all $4 of it, and I expect some peace & quiet! I liked the owner of this place, but the people he let's in here....

I think I feel better now. I need some rest before I rise at dawn to walk along the ghats and hopefully take some quality snaps while the lighting is good. And try not to get scammed or give to unholy "holy men" along the way. That will happen unless I'm still not feeling recharged after sleeping on another hard bed. Or if I find myself excessively squatting over the porcelain toilet in the floor. I hope not, but you can be sure I'll tell you all about it. Sweet dreams.

India day 2

This shit ain't easy. My eyes and ears have seen and heard a lot today and my feet are fucking tired. Extremely tired just doesn't sound right. I need to hide away in my hotel room for an hour or two. I feel refreshed after a cold shower and drying myself with a towel that smells a lot like bleach and a little like piss. I’m sitting naked in a brown plastic chair listening to the taxis and motorcycles honk and battle it out for street position. I’m glad I’m not walking among them right now.

The keyboard in the first internet cafe. Recycled from 1990? Not complaining, it had a story in those keys.

I woke up this morning with the intention of possibly changing hotel rooms. I’m paying 600 Rs (rupees) or US$12 for a decent single room. Certainly nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable and relatively clean. I decided to check out the Hotel Maria, a budget place down the road that seemed to be quite popular among backpackers and I thought it might be a good place to meet some folks and get some advice regarding travel in this vast country.

As soon as I saw the room, there was no way in hell I was going to take it. It was 250 Rs (US$5) and I’m just too old to do that to myself. Walls looked like they were rotting, two dingy single beds and part of the wall was just a curtain made with old sheets. And they shared a bathroom with numerous other rooms. A couple in another room noticed that this room was available and immediately ‘claimed’ it and the manager offered me their room instead.

The $5 prison cell at the Hotel Maria. No thanks.

I had already decided against the place, but I wanted to see this room in comparison. The bearded and long locked guy inside shook his head and whispered Don’t do it and proceeded to show me all the red bumps on his hand, presumably from sleeping on a dirty mattress ridden with bed bugs. Fuuuuuuuuck that. I've been there before and it's not something I want to experience again. EVER.

So it's safe to say I’m still at the Pioneer Hotel and happily paying 600 Rs. After this ordeal and nearly sweating through my t-shirt at just after nine in the morning, I decided to change into a tank top. It's hard to apply sunscreen to an already sweaty surface. My next aim was to purchase an Indian sim card and after nearly an hour of waiting and signing my name over and over and over, it was mine. These little things seem to take so much time and fortunately I have time to kill.

Street on the way to my hotel. I took this picture and a local resident angrily asked 'You have permission to take picture here?' to which I scoffed and mumbled something like 'Fuck you bitch.'

I walked around a bit. I got a glass of fresh orange juice for 20 Rs (US$0.40) and walked around some more, ultimately settling on a sidewalk cart selling coffee, chai, yogurt, omelets, curry, chapattis and more. A small glass of chai was delicious and only 5 Rs (US$0.10). A small bowl of fresh yogurt was 10 Rs (US$0.20). I ended up chatting with some folks who've been in India for a few months and I slowly began to warm up to this place.

Not hungry, but wanting to sample more, I ordered a two egg omelet for 14 Rs (US$0.28). The guy diced a chili and a small onion and threw them into the eggs, whipped them up and poured the mixture  into the pan over the burning coals. The vegetable curry was 10 Rs (US$0.20) and each chapatti was only 2 Rs (US$0.04). It was good and I was stuffed and away I went for less than a buck with a bloated belly.

I wandered. I went down Park Street. I bought a map, finally, and found a cafe in which I could unfold it. It was the size of Texas. There was no way I was going to stand on the street holding this map looking like a lost tourist. I got a vague idea of my immediate plan. Take the metro to near College Street, wander by Calcutta University, check out this coffee shop and then walk to the nearby Hugli River and take a gander at the supposedly rather impressive Howrah Bridge.

Well, I took the metro and the rest is history. The metro was fast and efficient, but honestly I felt like it could have been 1960. I never found Calcutta University or the coffee shop, but it was just as well since I didn't really want a coffee. I wandered by some other universities and asked numerous people who pointed me in this or that direction. And I never made it to the Hugli River either, seems the map wasn't quite to scale.

Along the way, I indulged in some fresh watermelon and papaya mixed with a dash of salt and served on some leaves for 10 Rs (US$0.20). I dodged a cow running across the street and I walked into an area where people seemed genuinely surprised to see me. I chugged a couple of mixed fruit shakes. Grapes, pomegranate, papaya and something else for 10 Rs(US$0.20) a glass. I kept going, dodging cow shit along the way.

Some kids started talking to me. I stopped to chat and more people stopped to see what the ‘commotion’ was about. There was no commotion, just a tall white guy ‘lost’ in Kolkata. One kid started to do a hand stand down the sidewalk. Impressive. I engaged them a little. They were nice and wanted me to take a picture. More people were watching. I told them I didn’t have my camera, wanting to take a picture, but not wanting to take it out of the bag. This guy I had spoken to before the kids came up to me, came back out of nowhere and said Go as he looked into my eyes. Huh? Goooo. That was enough for me and I just walked away never once glancing back.

I was really tired at this point and just wanted to get back to the comfortable area near my hotel. Everyone stared at the white guy, that or politely gave me the sideways head bob. The weirdest fucking method of acknowledgment I’ve ever experienced, but I guess it’s preferable to a complete stare down. Or just laughter, which I mostly tended to ignore and muttered Look at you to myself. I’m grumpy now and it’s hard to smile anymore.

I found a metro station eventually and found out it was ‘broken’ so I ran back upstairs to find a bus. They were all packed and proceeded so slowly, I figured it might be just as fast to walk. Easier than trying to get on one and deal with that shit. There will be another day for the bus! I decided it wouldn’t be so bad to splurge for a taxi. Tired of walking. But they were all occupied too. The streets were also packed, but I seemed to be managing them well, despite nearly getting hit by the occasional motorcycle.

A car turned a corner and a dog yelped. The car kept going, but the dog didn’t. It shook on the ground and blood pooled out of his mouth onto the pavement. People noticed and were affected, as I was, but there was nothing to do. I turned back and the dog still shook, but I moved on as did the mass of humanity. It stays in your head for a while, but slowly fades as you effectively fight for your own survival just walking down the street.

I tried some lentils. I hadn't been hungry all day, but this massive pan of dal looked delicious. Enough people were standing around eating so I thought that was a good sign. 8 Rs (US$0.16) for more than I wanted. Just adding more fuel to the fire I thought and hurriedly made my way closer to the Esplanade continuing to dodge pedestrian and vehicular traffic. Almost there.

Finally, I recognized Hartford Lane and sighed a deep sigh. Turned in on the home stretch and was happily home. My home for now anyway. If home is where the heart is, my home is in Southeast Asia. For sure. I walked by a few chai stands and one guy caught my eye, said something and started pouring me one before I could refuse. He opened a tin of biscuits and handed me two and I sat on the long low bench on the other side of the street taking small sips of the amazing brew until he poured me another.

I don’t think I’ll be in Kolkata for much longer. This place is alright, but it ain’t my cup of tea. Aside from the chai I’ve encountered. I might say that everywhere I go, but I won’t know until I experience it. I’ve heard you either love India or you hate it. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a hater, but I’m trying to open up to it. I love the food, that much is true, but will I love anything else? Remains to be seen. 

India day 1

I arrived! Started getting anxious yesterday about really traveling for a change. Do I really want to do this? Yes, I do. Just breathe through those moments of anxiety. This too shall pass. Blah blah blah. I got to Suvarnabhumi airport this morning in plenty of time, but needed it to stand in Air Asia's ridiculously long lines even after web check-in. And then there were lines going through customs and security. Finally, once through all of that, I could relax for a few moments and catch a glimpse of who else was traveling to Kolkata (Calcutta) this lovely morning.

Mostly Indians. Surprise, surprise, but actually I was a little surprised. I was expecting to see a fair few backpackers with their overgrown hair and 'same same' singlets wanting THE INDIA EXPERIENCE. Dude, let me tell you about this time I was in INDIA... whoa! Forgive me if I ever do that. I am so much better than you because I have been to India. I spent six months there and spent ten dollars a day! The food was amazing and I never got sick. And I was in a Bollywood film!

Anyway, my flight went smoothly and it was just a few snoozes away. Everything is closer when you're not based in the USA. What once seemed so distant is actually quite close. There were a lot of men on the plane. Macho macho men. I sat in seat 23C. Dude two seats to my left was snoring before we even took off. Nobody on the plane seems that friendly. I hate staring contests. What the fAck you are looking at? Eventually the guy to my left asked if I could switch with his friend in 8C. Do you really miss him that much?

That pissed me off. I-n-c-o-n-v-e-n-i-e-n-c-e. Can you spell it? Move from my aisle seat with more leg room to a window seat. Check if there was overhead cabin space for my backpack and then ask if this guy wanted to eat his fried rice with his buddies who had already missed holding his hand. He smiled gratefully and the two inconvenienced guys on his left managed to stand up and let him out and me in. Once all was said and done, it was all good, but I never pull shit like that. And I don't expect it from others.

The Kolkata airport is not big. I was surprised by this. I got through customs, reclaimed my backpack and there I was at the exit. It was hard to tell who worked there and who were passengers. And I didn't see an information desk. I needed to change money so I went to the ONE money changer. It was not a good rate and they charged a commission. Eventually I gave in, lost the equivalent of eight dollars in the transaction, prepaid for a taxi and went outside, expecting to smell shit immediately, but didn't and was herded to the ancient yellow taxi not far from the exit door.

Wow, that was easy. It was indeed easy in retrospect, but at the time, it was a pain in the ass. I didn't want to change my money at that rate, but had no other choice. Nobody seemed to want to help. I thought they spoke English here. Well, they do, but certainly not everyone and it ain't that easy to understand. Breathe Tyler! Sitting in that taxi was like a step back in time. I sat on the edge for the duration looking out the windows taking it all in and wondering where I'd end up.

The answer, eventually, was the Pioneer Hotel for 600 rupees a night. That's US$12 and not a steal, but a great deal better than the shitholes I was presented by the relentless touts trying to get a tip or a cut of the hotel rate. FAck you buddy, you ain't getting a tip. The fan seems to work well, the bathroom towel reeks of bleach, but the room is cheerful and airy and the staff are reasonably friendly. Has a better vibe than the other dozen places I saw. And well, I tired of looking!

Kolkata, or at least the area I'm in near The Esplanade, doesn't seem that big. I don't even know what tourists do here. So, I walked around, had more staring contests and tried to laugh them off. Ignored a lot of people and tried to get a smile out of others. Saw a crow munching on dead rat in the gutter, saw dudes taking a piss at the public urinals on the street, saw a lot of poor people, saw a little girl who lost her mom and I wanted to be that guy who stood by her side in that brief moment of desperation.

I watched in awe at the human rickshaws and dodged tuk tuks and taxis. I wanted to try a lot of street food, but didn't. I followed a guy into his shop even though I knew he'd want me to buy something. He refused to believe he was shorter than me even though I was clearly looking down at him. I asked him how tall he was. I don't know, he shrugged and still managed to elude defeat. It was all nonsense and somehow I felt like they were trying to distract their opponent so they could take one of his kidneys.

Eventually I just got up and walked out without saying goodbye thinking what the fuck was that while checking my pockets and vital organs. I think I walked around a lot because I am tired. My feet hurt and so do my eyes. Not from visual stimulation although there is definitely a lot of that. Something is in the air. I also managed to eat some delicious food as I was expecting. The Blue Sky Cafe did not disappoint with an amazing channa masala for lunch and a vegetable masala for dinner. The naan was perfect, the service was outstanding and the price was ridiculous.

It wasn't as absurd as some of the prices I saw on the street, but I decided to save the diarrhea for another day. I will try some of that shit, but sometimes I just want the luxury of sitting down inside on a real chair and get served. I don't want anyone pouring my 7UP into my glass or pushing in my chair, but having to choose from a menu is nice on occasion despite having too many options. It's also nice to step away from the reality that lies just outside the door, to pretend it doesn't exist, if only for the time it takes to consume your meal.

Well, I made it through the day without the need for a Kingfisher. I thought for sure it was one of those days, but I think I overdosed on masala instead. I'll be farting myself to sleep shortly. In the meantime, I hope the d-bags out by reception stop the occasional bantering otherwise I'll be disgruntled in the morning. I'm prepared for that. I keep saying that, I'm really trying to convince myself, but I know this is going to be a test of patience. And I really hope I pass the test. BRING IT ON.

Too many choices!

The best oatmeal cookies this side of the Mississippi.

I'm feeling a little bit anxious, thus the need to write. And consume. I was only going to eat a few of these oatmeal cookies, recently purchased from the 7/11 around the corner. I was going to throw the rest of them, like frisbees, into the night air, but temptation got the best of me. The first one was so good and the rest of them quickly followed. After each cookie there was some irritation in my throat, which could have only been relieved by a little more oatmeal. It's best for me to stay away from this kind of thing as it really provides little benefit other than to help soothe my anxiety. I'd have to consume a hundred bags of these if I wanted the amount of oatmeal needed to assist in the formation of a proper deuce.

This is my last night in Bangkok for a while. It's good to be moving on, going somewhere new, but I'm comfortable damn it! That's the best time to stir things up. I'm going to miss the ladies at the fly-friendly restaurant under the Pranee Building who have been serving up cheap and delicious fare for me twice a day the past couple of days. I'm going to miss that bowl of chilies and ground up peanuts. I'm going to miss the guy serving up sliced fruit at the end of Soi Kasem San 1. And the drunk homeless guy who manages to ask for change without really bothering me. I like his technique.

I almost feel like I live here. I've been in Bangkok now on four different occasions over the past couple of months and stayed at the White Lodge three times now. I'll almost miss the feminine dude who always refuses my request for a discount. I'll miss the boiled peanuts, the coconuts, the air-conditioned Sky Train, walking through MBK for lack of anything else to do and I'll miss walking by the table of cheap secondhand boxers on my occasional evening stroll through Siam Square.

I think I've been to Thailand six times now and I've really only scratched the surface. I'd like to take a month trip around Isan, the northeastern region of Thailand, in search of the best flied lice. Renting bicycles and consuming time until it's time to eat again. Talking to tuk tuk drivers and hookers and regular people too. Oh wait, they are regular people. Learning more of this language. I love learning languages, I just wish I was more proficient at doing so. 

There are too many choices in this life we lead. Well, not for everybody. I can't sit still and live behind a white picket fence, climbing the corporate ladder, taking the dog for an evening stroll and pretending like I don't notice the neighbor across the street while I'm watering the lawn. I can live here or there or anywhere and that is part of the problem because I want to live everywhere. I don't want to uproot myself every time I get comfortable, just when the itch gets too unbearable not to scratch.

I think I could live in Bangkok. Why not give it a try? But having just spent six nights in the countryside breathing fresh air, swimming in rivers, riding bicycles and enjoying the good life, why not there? I also know I'd like to try Cambodia. Siem Reap or Phnom Penh would do. And shit, Laos is the most beautiful country I've ever visited. I think I could find something there if I looked. And well, Vietnam is always a fallback. I've always said I'd love to live in Sapa, in the far north of Vietnam. My heart just feels good there. Why did I never give that a try? Or Indonesia...

I hate making decisions! I used to wish I lived in a communist country so I had my life's work chosen for me. Just tell me what to do. That way I wouldn't have to always wonder if I was making the right choice. And then I lived in Vietnam and well, that didn't help. But nobody was really forcing me to do anything. Just grin and bear it. And sometimes I could and sometimes I couldn't, which leaves me here, now. Still going and still unsure about tomorrow. But that's life I suppose. We're all in the same boat I guess, but some of us are in shackles and rowing the fucking thing and some of us are at the helm...even if we don't really know where we want to go.

Facebook

A quick note about Facebook. I have recently taken a temporary hiatus from wasting my time and numbing my mind. I'm sure I will be back soon as I have pictures to post and news feeds to overburden. But I'm doing my best to in the meantime to regain some lost sanity. Email me if you really need to get in touch. The address is tadpierce AT hotmail DOT com. I'm pretty sure you won't.

I'm going to Disneyland!

I didn't do my homework, that much is for sure. That's why I've spent the last nine days in Thailand and not in India, but oh well! I hate planning and so, I just didn't look into what I needed to do until I was ready to go there. Everyone goes there, I thought. Surely it's easy. And well, it was pretty easy, but it helps to do a little research. I could have gotten it done in Phnom Penh last month and not wasted any time, but could have, would have, should have, as they say.

I submitted my visa application six working days ago and got the hell out of Bangkok. The sanest thing I could have done. Nothing wrong with Bangkok if you're actually doing something here, but just bumming around and getting caught up in the sidewalk traffic and constantly stepping on other people's heels gets old quick. And no, I don't need to go shopping. I don't want to go to that temple and I don't want to be looking for an air-conditioned place on a relatively nonstop basis. It's hot in the hot tub.

So, I took off for Kanchanaburi. I had intentions of seeing other cities before I came back to Bangkok, but I didn't. A little ashamed about that, but I did manage to change guesthouses. At least that gave me the  impression I was getting a slightly different experience. And well, I learned to drive a motorcycle, I got to swim in the River Kwai, talk to some interesting expats and hookers and just felt like I was able to chill out for a minute. Not like I haven't had time to do that over the past few months.

Anyway, I'm back in Bangkok and getting more anxious by the minute. Today was visa pick-up day and I wasn't even 100% sure I had gotten my visa even though I had already booked my non-refundable ticket to Kolkata in two days time. I received a text and an email with the message A decision on your Visa application has been received at the India Visa Application Centre and is ready for collection. Well, great, I think, what the fuck does that mean, exactly?

I found out it means that I'm good to go! And now my passport is safely back in my hands and I'm about to leave my safety net of SE Asia. Thailand is soooooo easy. Cambodia is equally as easy and Vietnam as well. I'm ready more than I've ever been for India, but I'm still more than anxious and not entirely sure what to expect. I guess that's what makes it interesting. I have just over two months for India and Nepal before I have to get back to the states to see the family. It's been too long.

I'm not even in India, but I feel like I already have diarrhea. I can smell the feces, see the faces, hear the noise, feel my heart racing, yet I know, what I feel now ain't nothing compared to what I'm going to experience. Bring it on, I think. That's just the beer talking. I am ready, like I said, but it's way out of my comfort zone. It's good to get out of your comfort zone. It'll be alright, I'm fairly sure, it's just been a while since I've actually really tested myself.

So, I've got a couple of easy days remaining here in Bangkok before it gets even hotter, noisier, dirtier, smellier but likely more interesting, more stimulating and more appealing. I don't know about the last one. I certainly don't know Bangkok, but I've been here enough to be more than comfortable and that takes away some of the excitement., which makes it slightly dull. I think to myself, bring on the fucking food poisoning, the bed bugs, the harassment, the scams, the chaos, that is India. But I'm really not that ready. I'm a little scared to be honest, but excited. Here we go!

Thai food pt. 2

 

The first dish here is vegetarian pad si ew. I almost always choose rice over noodles, but when it comes to Thai food I occasionally choose the more processed stuff. And when I do, it's usually pad thai because it's familiar and relatively comforting. But not this day. This dish had tofu, eggs, broccoli, carrots, cabbage and some other good shit. At first, I thought the food at my guesthouse was going to be expensive, but apparently that was just for Western food. This was only 40B (US$1.33).

Today, I intended to go to the same place I ate last night, but it was closed, fortunately for me. So, I went to the restaurant a few doors down and this is what I found. It wasn't on the menu, but every restaurant can make fried rice so I asked for it. Can you make fried rice with eggs, tofu, vegetables and cashews? The cashews, initially forgotten, came later in a separate bowl. Delicious and only 35B (US$1.17). Now seriously, can they be making any money!? In Vietnam, this would be 24,000VND. The food in Vietnam is cheap, but you would never find it this cheap.

And finally, this was my dinner tonight. I decided to go back to the same place I had lunch. It was that good and cheap. And well, the wait staff was pretty cute and surprise, surprise, they were not ladyboys. I didn't bring my camera so I had to take this grainy shot with my mobile. A vegetarian green curry with lots of vegetables and tofu. I think all that soy has enlarged my breasts. Anyway, it tasted as it looks, de-freakin-licious. The curry was 40B (US$1.33), the rice was 10B (US$0.33) and the big beer Chang was 55B (US$1.83). You cannot find a cheaper, more delicious green curry outside of Thailand. I am not George Zimmer so I will not guarantee it.

Don't listen to a ladyboy

I was trying to decide what to do while in Kanchanaburi. I thought about booking a tour to eliminate a lot of the hassles that come with doing things on your own. Tours are also a good way to meet new people. Unfortunately, the tour I wanted to go on, didn't have the minimum number of interested people. I really wanted to see Hellfire Pass, 70km outside of Kanchanaburi, which Travelfish says is outstanding, but apparently nobody else was interested.

I inquired with the ladyboy receptionist at my guesthouse about renting a motorbike. Not a good idea, she said in other words. Basically it sounded like an arduous journey and I was responsible if something were to go wrong with the bike. Hmmm, I thought, maybe it's best to just take public transportation. It seemed quite easy according to Travelfish. How to get there: The museum is on Route 323, around 70km west of Kanchanaburi town. Any bus to Thong Pha Phum or Sangkhlaburi will pass by here.

Getting a relatively late start, I walked down the road looking for some help to the local bus station. It was about 10am. I skipped breakfast as I usually do, but I was feeling the need to consume something as the last thing I ate was a half-consumed red curry for dinner the previous night, which didn't hit the spot. I never leave anything half-consumed. Post red curry, a few Sang Som and Cokes went down smoothly even though technically the night before and day of a national election, bars aren't supposed to sell or serve alcohol. Shhhh! 

I think that's why I needed to eat something. Sang Som sneaks up on you. It seemed to give me such a weak buzz after three glasses, but this morning I had a minor headache that kept hanging on so I wanted to consume something to help 'absorb' the alcohol that was still wrecking havoc on my body. It was probably due to the lack of calories in general as I'm accustomed to eating a larger portion for dinner. When it's good, it all goes down. When it's not, it stays on the plate.

So, back to the story. I'm walking on the street and I turn around to find a motorbike with sidecar approaching. Not a real sidecar, but something called a saleng. We negotiated the price to the bus station and I hopped in. It was like a cage on wheels with a roof and a bench. Not the safest place to be if there was an accident, but let's go!

We arrived at the bus station at ten after ten. I found the sign for Thong Pha Phum and Sangkhlaburi and could see some passengers were already waiting on the bus. I remember reading this was a once-every-50-minutes bus and I had no idea when the last bus departed. Afraid of getting off the bus to get some food and having it leave without me, I decided to wait it out. I ended up waiting for 45 minutes. I was not happy and getting extremely irritable.

Moving now, the breeze coming in through the windows at least relieved some of the tension. The only food I saw on the 1 hour 45 minute journey was sold by two women on the bus about 50 kilometers in. One selling chicken satay and the other iced cola and coffee in plastic bags. I'll wait til I get there. The money collector eventually motioned to my stop, I got off and I quickly saw there was absolutely nothing being sold in this relatively barren stretch of highway. Fuuuuuck. 

I walked and walked down this road, befriended an ostrich, the highlight of the day and continued on to the museum. They didn't sell any food either. It was a really good museum as far as museums go. Very informative and not too overwhelming as museums tend to be. However, I did feel like I was reading the same information over and over and over again. The urge to eat had diminished. I was now officially starving. I left the museum after about an hour, which is a long time for me. And upon my exit, I found a cooler of water, to my excitement. The best bottle I've had in some time.

 

But I wasn't finished. I still had to see 'the cutting' - the place where so many POWs and laborers had met their end in building the railroad from Thailand to Burma for the Japanese during WWII. I left the museum around 1:50pm and was finally walking back to the street nearly an hour later hoping to catch the next bus, which happened to whiz by me at that moment, full, before I could cross the street and get to the bus stop. Shit, shit and shit.

I waited in this overheated bus shelter with another woman and her crying baby for just over an hour. The bus finally came at 3:45pm and it was packed. We climbed aboard and fought for a spot and I tried not to stick my underarm, which I had forgotten to deodorize this morning, in someone else's face. And we stood all the way til we reached Kanchanaburi. I had to hold my breath or rather, b-r-e-a-t-h-e, to make it through this agonizing hour and a half.

One hand on my mobile because you never know in crowded situations like that and one hand on the bar above my head, fighting for foot position and trying not to inhale this guy's hair in front of me. All in all it was a very miserable experience. But we made it! And I was both surprised and relieved when we pulled into what appeared to be the bus station. Could it be? Yes!! I hopped off the bus relieved to breathe fresh air and move freely once again. It was 5:25pm. I went to the 7/11 and caught a motorbike taxi back to my guesthouse.

Nearly EIGHT hours from door to door and all I saw was this fucking museum. And it was definitely not outstanding. Good? Yes, but only if you take a tour or rent a motorbike. Public transportation? Forget about it. I couldn't think of a bigger waste of time. I was exhausted and nowhere near actually starving, but the hungriest I've been in recent memory. The throat lozenge I had this morning hardly counted as food. And now, I sit here unable to move and unwilling to do anything that requires me to expend energy. Only three things remain on my to do list this evening: eat, massage and sleep.

The cheap way to Kanchanaburi

Ok, this isn't the cheapest way to Kanchanaburi, but I'm pretty sure it was the cheapest option from where I was. If I was staying on Khao San Road, Bangkok's backpacker ghetto, I could have been picked up at my doorstep, packed into a minivan and shuffled off to Kanchanaburi for peanuts. Instead, I was downtown at the just as ghetto White Lodge near the National Stadium. A perfect location to go street shopping at night, especially if you're into buying secondhand underwear like I am.

I did my homework. That was key. I usually don't plan ahead and that often goes against me, as you might imagine. I hate planning. But I wasn't at a hotel where I could just book a ticket and be done with it, as is often the case as a backpacker. My hotel was cheap, but it wasn't necessarily a backpacker pit stop. I googled the bus station for Kanchanaburi and to my dismay it was not the Eastern Bus Terminal, conveniently located a short walk away from the Sky Train.

Should I even go? What an inconvenience. Maybe I should pick another city. This Southern Bus Terminal was proving to be a major ballache cause it was out of the way and I'd have to learn to master the public bus system. Or I could take the train? But 3rd class, apparently the only option, didn't sound that appealing. What should I do? Kanchanaburi? Ratchaburi? Ayutthaya? Lopburi? Koh Samet?

I woke up this morning thinking I really need to get out of Bangkok. Try something new. Go somewhere I've never been. Get out of my comfort zone. But where? Why can't this be easy? In the end, Kanchanaburi still had the most appeal. And didn't sound that difficult, if indeed the information I found on the internet proved to be correct. Take the Sky Train to Victory Monument. Catch bus 515 to the Sai Tai Mai terminal and then buy a ticket to Kanchanaburi on one of the buses leaving every 20 minutes.

I should just take a taxi to the bus terminal, I thought. But this is an adventure, the other part of my brain replied. You're just a cheap fucker, the other side countered back. You're right. The hotel receptionist estimated the taxi would cost about 200B (nearly US$7) - double the price of the actual bus fare to Kanchanaburi. I thought ten bucks wouldn't be that bad to be brought from here to there in relative comfort and without having to think too much. But I decided to go the cheap way.

I left my hotel at approximately and was muttering What the fuck am I doing? as I walked up the stairs to the Sky Train starting to sweat already. I could be sitting in the back of a cab stuck in traffic, but not giving a shit. The Sky Train to Victory Monument cost 25B (US$0.83). I found the right exit and walked down the steps leading to the massive intersection and what looked like a major bus stop. I kept walking by the bus shelters til I saw 515 and then saw it moving slowly on the street.

I hustled to the front door, the driver opened the door and nodded his head when I said something to the effect of Sai Tai Mai? I waddled up the steps with my pack and flopped down into a vacant seat and ahhhh it was air conditioned. The bus took 30-45 minutes, I can't remember exactly, but it was comfortable even if I didn't really know where I was getting off. It only cost 17B (US$0.57). Eventually the money collector motioned that the next stop was mine.

I got off at this massive looking mall and wandered inside. There were three floors of nonsense. People selling cheap clothes, a 7/11, donut shops, bakeries and eventually on the third floor were the numerous companies selling tickets to various locations throughout the south and west of Thailand. I got my ticket relatively painlessly for 99B (US$3.33). Then proceeded to buy a small sugary snack for breakfast and ate it on my way to the bus loading area.

The bus was practically departing, but they let me on. And it was full except for two seats in the back. Since the luggage storage under the bus was apparently full, I had to drag my bag through the narrow aisle bumping various locals until I finally reached an empty seat near the toilet. There was one other non-talkative foreigner on the bus. I sat down relieved that the journey had been extremely smooth and painless thus far. And again, ahhhh as I felt the air conditioning from above.

After approximately two hours and various stops en-route picking up random passengers, we arrived at the Kanchanaburi bus station. I hopped off last and was greeted by a guy offering a rickshaw for 40B (US$1.33) to the strip of guesthouses running along the river. That sounded reasonable, but I still threw out 30B? The answer was no, but regardless I said Ok, let's go! 

Slowly we made our way to the Sugar Cane Guesthouse, but I refused. I was then taken to the Tamarind Guesthouse. It looked nice, but the cheaper rooms were taken. I paid the rickshaw driver and decided to go it alone. I walked to Sam's House Guesthouse and again, the good options were taken. On the main road again, I decided to check with the Tara Guesthouse, which appeared to be cheap and looked nice on the surface. It was reasonable, but with shared bathroom. I'm over those.

I'm like fucking Goldilocks. Nothing is ever right. I continued a bit further and went to the Ponh Penh Guesthouse. It was set on the river and they had 400B (US$13.33) rooms available with wifi, hot shower and air con. I checked it out and ahhhhh I'm in. Compared with my Bangkok room for 500B (US$17.67) this was better and in much more tranquil setting. I checked in, sat down for a late cheap delicious plate of pad si ew and patted myself on the back for getting it done.

Oops, I did it again

dandy guy! you can't find this shit for $10 a pair...

I was walking around Siam Square in Bangkok last night browsing all the stuff for sale on the street. The sidewalks were jammed and it was hot. I wished I had worn shorts. I was specifically looking for some striped tank tops, for lack of anything else to buy and I wanted to find out if the boxers I had purchased on my previous visit, were indeed secondhand. I eventually found the table of individually wrapped boxers with their sizes marked S, M, L or XL. 3 for 100 baht.

Are these new or secondhand? I asked.

She paused for a second, as if to register what I had just said. Secondhand, she replied. Ahhh, thanks, I said and continued on my way, not really that surprised, but glad to know the truth behind the matter. I walked to the end of where people were selling and then turned round and walked my way back on the street dodging motorbikes, tuk tuks and pedestrians who were waiting for said modes of transportation. Eventually, I got back to the table of secondhand boxers and opened my wallet. I couldn't resist.

in the bag and ready to go...

I quickly glanced through the bounty and slowly picked ones I deemed suitable. Other customers came and were able to choose faster than me. They cast a shadow, however, over the left side of the table and this delayed my ability to choose the most desirable color combination. Get the fuck outta the way! You're shadow is intruding on my space! Eventually I found the three I wanted, they were dropped into a bag as I handed over a 100 baht note and I was on my way back to my hotel.

odyssey of xenesis...what?!

rich pig? definitely not me! 

Thai food

I was briefly contemplating starting a new blog today entitled ilikefriedrice.blogspot.com, purely to document my experiences eating this inexpensive and varied dish over the last several months. But I'm afraid I've missed the boat. One dollar fried rice with tofu in Siem Reap. Two dollar fried rice with vegetables and cashews, also in Siem Reap. Thai fried rice in Saigon. Flied lice everywhere you look!

Then I decided, I'll just do another blog, all about cheap food and appropriately entitled ilikecheapfood.blogspot.com. That way I don't have to always eat fried rice. I like it, but I also like variety. And too much and you get an oily tongue. I don't like that. And then I thought, fuck that, I'll just post occasional pictures of food on this blog. After all, pictures might spruce it up a bit. I know how hard it is to just read words.

So, this brings me to today and my lunch (pictured below). Fried rice with egg, tofu and vegetables. It was in a busy, inexpensive little eatery under the Pranee Building at the end of Soi Kasem San 1 across from the National Stadium. Aside from the egg and tofu, there was some kale, carrots, baby corn, tomato and cabbage along with a slice of lime and some raw sliced cucumber. All this for 35B (US$1.17) and surprisingly, I didn't need to use any of the condiments on the table.

If you don't like flies, I wouldn't recommend the place, but I'd certainly go back. Before my food arrived, the place was abuzz with both flies and customers. I counted 6 flies on the floor, 5 on the menu, 2 on the table, 3 on the plastic basket covering the condiments and 3 on the chair opposite me. And that was just my table! But maybe they liked me for another reason.

My "dinner" was consumed only three hours after my lunch. I couldn't resist after walking by a place I seem to frequent every time I'm in Bangkok. It's located on Soi Rambuttri, basically an extension of Khao San Road. Mr Yim's is actually a street stall offering vegetarian options and delicious ones at that. Today, I just ordered the same dish the lady was bringing to other customers. Fried tofu with spicy coconut sauce. It didn't disappoint.

This dish was also 35B and contained tofu, carrots, snap peas, green beans, mushrooms, cauliflower, baby corn and kale. The rice was a mixture of white and brown varieties, which I prefer. This dude knows how to cook and if you are a vegetarian, you'd love it. If you are not a vegetarian you'd still probably enjoy it, but you'd also probably say I don't think I can live without meat. As you do.

F**k you Bangkok!

This wifi ain't free.

I gotta get this out. My mascara is running all over the place. All I want is some free wifi or at least a cheap connection. And Bangkok, you have let me down. I’m in the midst of changing rooms at my mosquito infested “hotel” and I thought I’d go out, drink a small overpriced coffee and write a bit, upload some pics and book some plane tickets. But it wasn’t meant to be. Cause I don’t wanna spend the money.

Fuck, after free wifi throughout Vietnam and Cambodia, what do I expect? I got speedy wifi in my room for $6 in Siem Reap. Now I can’t even find a cafe with a free serving of wifi with my small americano. Yeah, I’d order the brownie too, but you just don’t understand. My metabolism is at the lowest it’s ever been and if I eat that – and believe me, I really want to – I will have to forgo lunch and I’ve already skipped breakfast.

I walked over to Siam Square this morning to get a small coffee – I would get a medium or a large or whatever, but a small has enough caffeine to fuck up my sensibilities. I first went to True Coffee and the girl behind the counter said it was 25B for an hour of wifi. 25B is roughly a dollar. I have to pay an extra dollar in addition to my 60B coffee and supply my own computer? Well, it looks like others don’t have a problem with it, but I do. I figure I can find an internet cafe, which generally comes with an enormous flat screen these days, for a dollar an hour. I didn’t stay.

After walking around for a while and getting all hot and bothered, I realized it was either no wifi or pay for wifi. So I went back to True Coffee and decided to pay for an hour even though I have enough shit to do to be online for three. Small coffee 60B and one hour of wifi 75B! What!? $2.50 for a fucking hour? I thought she had said 25B, which I balked at, but she really said 75B. Now that was ridiculous. Embarrassed, I walked out for the second time.

Feeling like a cheap motherfucking bastard, but hiding behind my shades, I continued on with my lips quivering in disgust. Or was it shame? I walked through a few malls looking for the hidden cafe providing the free wifi that I figured I would eventually find. It was like looking for the fountain of youth. There ain’t no free fucking wifi in Bangkok. At least not that I could find after searching for an hour. I went to Starbucks as a last resort. Tack an extra dollar on the price of the coffee because it's Starbucks and how much is the wifi?

150B for two hours! WHAT THE FUCK!? Starbucks, this just confirms why I hate you. $3 for a small coffee is already too much yet reasonable for the comfortable, air-conditioned environment they provide. But charging five more dollars for wifi is outrageous. Apparently not to others as they sit there sipping their mocha-frappafuckingchino, legs daintily crossed, Macbook Air open whilst scrolling through the pics on their Iphone. Eat a dick.

You know, I could afford all that shit too. I’m not a poor bastard. I was born lucky. Not with a silver spoon in my mouth, but it was stainless steel and it wasn’t secondhand. Well, it might have been, but still, the point is, well, I’m not really sure. Where was I? All I know is that work doesn’t come easy to me. It hurts to make a living. Takes the life out of me. Every fucking dollar I have has caused me some anguish to make and I refuse to spend it foolishly.

I’m sure I’m just jealous. I wish I could handle sitting at a desk all day breathing stale office air, infiltrating my retinas with fluorescent light and then still have enough energy after work to hit the gym, meet my friends for drinks and get enough quality sleep to walk in the office the next day happy and cheerful without the need for some stimulant to keep me going til the weekend. Fuck that life. I’ve tried it and I refuse.

And knowing how poor a lot of people are in this neck of the woods, it’s even more unacceptable to me. People, A LOT OF FUCKING PEOPLE, are struggling to make A DOLLAR A DAY. One dollar! And here we are spending five dollars a day at Starbucks for some shit that’s giving us a short-term high and long-term diabetes and obesity. Shit’s true. Keep doing it and find out for yourself. But it won’t happen to me. Might not. So go have another. You deserve it, you had a hard day. You bumped your head while getting out of your Mercedes and got a mosquito bite.

We can’t individually save the world, but we can make a difference. It’s easy to ignore the majority of the world and say it’s just the luck of the draw. Easier still when you can’t see them. Who? We need the poor people to make all the cheap shit that we buy. Fact. There’s always going to be disparity, haves vs have nots. Oppressors vs oppressed. Gotta keep ‘em down to stay up. Fucked up it truly is. I’m going to go jump off a bridge.

Disclaimer: I am not and never have been suicidal so don’t even ask me about it. Instead, eat a dick.

I'm wearing secondhand underwear!

Well, at least they are boxers and not briefs, I've got that going for me. I tell you, I didn't know until yesterday, but I should have been more suspicious. After all, what do you expect when you buy a pair of boxers for a buck? My first purchase was nearly a year ago in Bangkok. My friend recommended the Bang Kapi Mall and I found the deals to be pretty amazing. But when I got to the table of boxers, I was even more amazed.

They were priced at three for 100 baht, which amounted to a measly $1.10 per pair. It was nice because they had a variety of colors and brands. This one table alone had more variety than I'd seen anywhere in Vietnam. Hmmm you say, and you didn't figure it out? I just assumed they were putting old fabric to good use and slapping random labels on them. I should have wondered why some of the elastic waistbands felt a little less than elastic.

I also should have probably wondered why some of them had the odd stain, but like I said, I thought the material came from old spools of unused fabric! I can make myself believe anything. Anyway, they were a nice change from the usual fake Calvin Klein boxers that I've seen nearly everywhere I've been in Southeast Asia. And they were more comfortable. Worn in I guess - makes sense now. I wonder if my friend knew, but didn't tell me? Or maybe he told me, but I didn't listen.

I was back in Bangkok in late January of this year and I came across another vendor in Siam Square selling the same boxers. Well, not the same, but the same price with the random assortment of cool looking boxers. And I was in need so I got a few more. And it was hard to stop at just three, but I really didn't need a dozen pairs just backpacking my way throughout Southeast Asia. Although it did cross my mind.

A couple crotch splits later, one in the aforementioned secondhand variety and one pair of Calvins, I found myself doing my laundry too often. And so was keeping my eyes peeled for some cheap boxers. Strolling through Phnom Penh's Central Market yesterday, I found myself looking at vintage button-ups and singlets, otherwise known as tank tops in my neck of the woods. And lo and behold, I saw something some different styles!

Again, I should have realized they were used as I was shopping in the secondhand clothing area, but it still didn't dawn on me. Certainly those tables of bras and panties couldn't all be secondhand, could they? Everything was laid out so nice how was one to know? She showed me the all-too-familiar stack of multi-colored boxers and I thought I was in heaven for a second. She said they were $1.50 each. $1.50? That's outrageous!

I was like come on, I'll pay you $1.25, but that's it! Not a cent or a riel more. And then I noticed a stain on one pair and an ingrown dingleberry on another and I finally started to do the math. Wait a minute here. Are these secondhand? She nodded yes and began to put them neatly away. Meanwhile, my life began to flash before me. Whaaaaat? Yes, I've been wearing someone else's underwear for nearly a year and I've loved every moment of it. I mean, not because they were used, but because they were different.

Well, I'm not about to throw any of them away. They have been washed multiple times at this point and they're more mine at this point than they could have been anyone else's. At least that's what I tell myself. However, it's still a little disturbing to wonder whose hairy beanbag was rolling around in them before mine. Aaack, that's the first time I've even thought that. I won't buy that variety again, I don't think. I bought a couple of the old Calvins today. Well, old in the sense that I used to wear them. They were new, they still had thread dangling here and there. Nobody likes a bad sew job, but you can't complain much for two dollars a pop.

So here I sit, just sweating into these used boxers not even giving a shit. Somebody could have crapped themselves in them for all I know. Peed their pants. Ejaculated all over them. Rubbed their herpes all over the place. There could be dead skin cells still all stuck up in there. Shaven pubic hairs stuck in the tightly woven fabric. But whatever, clearly there is a market for secondhand boxers. I'm just not in it anymore. I'll spooge, er splurge the extra dollar for something new.

One night in Siem Reap

This is not going to be like one night in Bangkok although I wish it was, for I might be in a better mood. I’m still sweating after sitting down for five minutes at one of the nicer Western establishments here in Siem Reap drinking my overpriced mango smoothie and swatting away the occasional fly. There shouldn’t be flies in a place like this! I unfortunately noticed the ‘NO INTERNET TODAY’ sign after I placed my order. Figures. Shit like that happens when you’re in a foul mood.

On the flip side though, the mango smoothie is pretty damn good as is my chocolatine - a flaky chocolate-filled pastry. But I would have never come here had the no internet sign been a bit more eye-catching. Probably made it small on purpose. Oh, I’m sorry sir. We have a sign on the counter. Yes, conveniently blending in with everything else and located behind the tip box. On with the story!

So it was a dude’s birthday party last night. We gathered unusually early only to wait nearly an hour in uncomfortable wicker chairs with sweat-inducing plastic covers for the late coming Khmer contingent. Just as well, I wasn’t hungry yet anyway and got to partake in some semi-fluent English conversation and listen to some arguably bad music. The food was bland and the dirty condiment bottles seen on every table in every cheap restaurant were nowhere to be found. Pity it was.

Getting closer to ten now, I was feeling antsy as I do after over two hours in one place. Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go. I dropped my share of the bill onto the table and pedaled quickly back to drop off my dollar bicycle before the travel agency where I rented it from closed. I didn’t want to be responsible for it overnight in case the piece of shit got ripped off and I had to overpay to replace it. Naaaaah!

I walked back to the Angkor Town Hotel, conveniently located near the center of town to have a quick moment of isolation and slip into something more comfortable. I chose a red lacy number and then hiked my body hugging jeans up around it, inhaled deeply and got them buttoned - just barely.  I walked first to my almost nightly outdoor dinner spot to have a dragon fruit shake before imbibing more less healthy concoctions.

After slurping down the rather cooling beverage I walked around the corner and found my friends at the Khmer Family Restaurant, a nice looking place with a 2-for-1 cocktail special running all night. I don’t usually imbibe such beverages, but for $1.75 and not in the mood for that bloated sensation, I opted for the Cuba Libre. It went down smoothly. From there, we walked around the corner to the Mezze Bar for a drink in an overheated space, which didn’t keep us there for long.

Pushing twelve now, we walked a block to Mikey’s – the main hooker hangout in Siem Reap. It’s not a hooker bar by Thailand or Phnom Penh standards, but rather a place they can go and seek customers. We didn’t go for that, but the scenery is always an added bonus. The beers are cheap and it's one of the few late night, busy, non-club options. Before we went in, I entered the adjacent convenience store and quickly downed an M-150, a necessity if this was going to be a late night.

While at Mikey’s I received a text and a telephone call. A girl I met online was going to be at Hip Hop later and we still hadn’t met in person. And another girl I met at Hip Hop earlier in the week was there and asking if I was coming. I was, just not yet. Eventually after conversing with the owner of the bar for a bit, we wandered over to Sunny’s, the only other lady bar in town. It was dead so I decided it was time to make a move and walked over to the club alone while my friends stayed scattered behind.

I didn’t see the girl who was already there. I got a call, but couldn’t hear anything once inside the building. And then I got a text from the other girl. I’m wearing a pink shirt. Ok, I’ll look for you. Meanwhile, I had been distracted by yet another girl and decided to sit with her for a minute. She spoke zero English, but her friend spoke a little. Usually I don’t even bother, but I hung on to see where it would go. Eventually her friend asked You like my friend? Sure, I said. How much you pay? I figured it was leading there.

I walked away in pursuit of my online friend surprisingly not seeing any recognizable faces on a Friday night. Eventually I met her outside and I ended up dancing with her group of friends for a while, before sneaking away after just not feeling it. I went back to Mikey’s and sure enough the gang was still there and had expanded. It was now nearly 3am. I was still playing phone tag with the girl I knew from the club. Now she was telling me to come back to the club. Fuck that.

I said I was on Pub Street and eventually she called and said she was on Pub Street. Surprised, my expectations for the evening began to rise. I got up from my Sprite and walked down the street seeing nobody resembling my friend and only getting hassled for a tuk-tuk as the Pub Street clubs were closing. I called her and there was no reply. What. The. Fuck. I hate this game. I walked back to Mikey's, sat down and realized my heightened expectations had put a damper on the evening.

I was already tired and now I was frustrated. Been there before. I bullshitted with my friends for a few minutes to release some tension before heading down the road back to my hotel. Not a bad night just slightly uneventful for all the goings on. And now, a day later, I’m sluggish as a result – as you are – and can’t find any motivation to get out of this chair and do anything.

But I must do something so I will rise up from this oppressive and confining Western establishment and ride my bicycle. Just go! To the west young man! Or wherever that road goes. It’s hot in here, it’s hot out there, it really makes no difference. I can take a cold shower later. Hope to tell you about another night out soon. And here’s hoping that night will have a happier ending. And you can read into that however you like.

Please don't make me wait

There are rules of behavior for this kind of thing. And although unwritten and completely subjective, in my mind they were broken. I met this girl online. We've been exchanging texts of late and trying to find a time to meet. Usually, after some negative experiences in the past, I prefer to meet for the first time after seeing the person on cam. Otherwise, waste of time and money. But it was a spontaneous text message, a simple What are you doing? and that caught me off guard.

I'm at my hotel, I said. She then proceeds to tell me she's in the neighborhood and asks if I want to eat something at the local shopping center. As it's close to 8 o'clock and I haven't eaten, I'm open to the suggestion. Even if she's bad company, it might be better than dining alone, yet again.  But first, I ask her They have food there? and tell her I need a quick shower, but that my hotel is not far away.

She replies Ok, I wait you there. Quick quick. So I hustle and get on my one dollar rent-a-bike and arrive in just shy of ten minutes. I lock the bike and look around - not that I'd recognize her anyway, but just in case somebody looks like they are anticipating the arrival of a tall white guy. Nobody was so I called her to see where she was hiding.

I'm on my way she says. Naturally, I think You're on your fucking way?? And she proceeds to tell me she has to bring her brother home and she'll be there in 15 minutes. 15 minutes?? I am not happy. You tell me quick quick and I hustle my balls to get there 15 minutes early? I compose myself, maybe I can wait. I ask her where we will eat. She says ice cream or some shit. I thought we were eating dinner.

I ask her if she ate dinner. She said no. Why don't we get dinner first? I suggest. Ok, she says, I want chicken fried. Not in the mood for this anymore, I say I'm not and ask if she's interested in anything else. She then suggests pizza or the aforementioned chicken fried. I say I want Cambodian food. I know that even though she invited me and chose the restaurant there was a 99% chance I'd be paying the bill. Of course.

She thinks for a minute and then I lose it. I'm sorry, I'm not interested anymore. I don't want to wait and I don't want KFC or pizza. Maybe we can meet another time. To be honest, I'd be happier with my dollar fried rice talking to the wall. And feel more at home in a hooker bar than in some Western fast food establishment with someone I don't know. Fuck that. She obliged my request, I hung up and cycled annoyed, but relieved back to my hotel.

And here I sit, trying to get it out before it eats my soul. At least I feel alive now. I was quite sleepy. I fucking hate waiting, that's all I have to say. I don't mind five to ten minutes or occasionally more, but not when you imply you're already there and tell me to hurry. For what? I hate waiting for people. Waiting at red lights, waiting for you to finish your sentence, waiting for my turn at bat, waiting for the image to load, waiting to exhale, waiting to tee off. I'd rather eat shit and die than play a round of golf for six hours. Four is long enough!

Ok, I think that's enough. It has helped me immensely. Thank you for reading and shaking your head. Tyler, Tyler you say. Eat it. I can't wait anymore, my beer is waiting! And although the need to consume has been lessened, the need is still there. Angkor, Anchor or Cambodia? Which one will it be? Oh, I hate making decisions. That's a whole other topic to be discussed with you soon.

Orphanage days 2 & 3

There are a lot of orphanages in Siem Reap. I decided to visit AOEO because my friend had already scoped it out months ago and still frequents the place. I have visited a couple orphanages before, once in Phnom Penh nearly two years ago and once in Saigon last year. Neither of those experiences really made me want to go back. In Phnom Penh, I just felt under-appreciated as if my time and rice donation weren't enough. I didn't want a pat on the back, but I also didn't want to feel like I should have been doing more. In Saigon, it was an orphanage for the disabled and really too difficult, for me, to do again.

So, here I was again, at this little plot of land housing thirty something children, not really having high hopes for an amazing experience, but rather just hoping to share my time with some under-privileged children. The kids were great and we played a little volleyball, pulled water up from the well and just chatted together. I was asked to teach a conversational English class for an hour and I obliged although I realized immediately it was something I did not want to be doing. So I told them I'd come back, but I wouldn't be doing that again. Sorry.

I took a day off and then went back yesterday. I'm starting to remember names and learning some k'mai as well. I don't know what I'm actually learning, but I know when I say it it elicits some laughter and that's the most important thing. The location for the orphanage is just outside the Old Market area of Siem Reap. Probably a couple kilometers down the road if you were taking a bicycle or a tuk-tuk into the countryside. I rented a bicycle yesterday, my first ride in what seems like years, and it felt great. Hardly counts as exercise, but the most physically active I've been lately - outside of my dreams.

Two days ago, one of the kids, the youngest, was sitting naked with his little dong dangling in the dirt. I couldn't help but think about the possibility of infection as I surveyed the dusty ground littered with scraps of paper and a trail of ants. Meanwhile, one of the girls is hula hooping inches from his head. She eventually sees him and laughs at the inconvenience. Later she picks him up and dangles him over the well, which smells like shit and is probably five meters to the bottom. Whoa whoa whoa I say, let's not do that.

I've got all the little ones coming up to me now wanting to be twirled around by their arms, which is fun, but I need my rests in between. None of them seem to mind that there is somebody in the way. I'm pretty sure I used to enjoy that when I was a kid too. I just hope somebody's arm doesn't come out of the socket when I'm doing that. It's his fault! I've also got them to hold my hands, climb up my legs and then flip backwards. I used to remember doing that with my Grandpa.

I've got kids dangling from either arm and then one trying to squeeze between my legs nearly causing our collapse. Kids wanting to be hugged, twirled around, high-fived or play ball. Kids impressed by the size of my muscles. Funny because it's the smallest my arms have been in probably years. Kids, they're good for the ego. They see my veins and are intrigued by that, incorrectly associating them with strength, as people do. They also seem intrigued by my moles and freckles.

I don't know what my role is. I'm happy just playing with the kids, but I wish I had something to teach them. I'm not the music teacher and I don't want to be the English teacher. Had enough of that for now and perhaps forever. I think and I think and I don't have any special skill that I can impart to them. And I'm not going to be there long enough, I don't think, to undertake any of the special projects they are currently working on. So, it seems, as if I'm just there to play games. And that's fine by me.

Yesterday I found myself climbing a tree to pick some of these mini mangoes they seem happy to devour. All of the little ones waiting below for the fruit to be dropped from above. They rarely ever caught it and all scrambled madly to score a few sweet nibbles off the dusty fruit. I went as high up as I felt comfortable and soon enough I had boys way above me, like monkeys, picking the fruit from unreachable places and making everybody happy. I descended, scraping up my body in the process and thought I wish I wasn't getting too old for this shit.

Well, it's almost time for lunch and day 4 at the orphanage. I'm not spending a great deal of time there because they are busy eating, studying, sleeping or working on other projects. So I go in the afternoon and come back at dusk. It's good for me because I can sleep in, go out in the evenings and run around barefoot playing with kids exchanging free smiles and having a laugh I otherwise might not be having. Yeah, I'm having to do my laundry more often than usual, but it's a small price to pay.

For more information on this specific organization, please take a look at their website. And if you come to Siem Reap, think about spending a day with the kids! And while I'm promoting, check out their Facebook page too.