Full Service
The dance club next door to my hotel gets going around 1 am every night, with bass thumping loud enough I can almost hear it in my room. Friday some of my classmates and I decided to give it a go. Everything was as expected more or less except for one unique service I’ll get to later. We arrived at about 12:30 to be sure we’d get a table. Other bars close around 1, and by 2 o’clock the place was quite lively. We were the only Westerners in the club.
My initial surprise was the way drinks are sold – we paid about 3,000 baht ($100) for a bottle of black label whisky and mixers. After getting you set up, which includes opening all bottles, pouring drinks and wrapping napkins onto your drink glasses, the servers return repeatedly to pour you more drinks, refill the ice bin (100 bah) and bring more mixers.
There is no dance floor in this dance club, just space between the varied tables – which from couches with low tables, high tables with high chairs, round beds surrounded by tables and chares – but that doesn’t stop people from dancing once the place gets packed.
More servers than I’ve ever seen anywhere work at this place. Probably two dozen in the main area. Despite the clear emphasis on service, I never would have expected that the bathroom would be full of masseurs! That’s right, masseurs in the men’s bathroom. While you pee, they give you a very nice shoulder rub. They then escort you to the sink and provide a hot towel wo wash your hands with, and give your neck a good crack while you do it. A small tip of 10 baht is standard. I’ve been in bathrooms with an attendant before, but this bathroom had at least a DOZEN bathroom masseurs. All clad in all white, in contrast to the floor servers in black and red.
The American War(s)
Two weeks from today I’ll be heading to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Of the many attractions there, I’m anticipating the War Remnants Museum (formerly American War Crimes Museum) the most. I’m thinking of it as a right of passage to begin my second quarter-century as an American. Reading about the museum, and Vietnamese history in general in preparation for the trip, has renewed my awareness of the country I come from.
The Brits in my ESL class have asked a few times what I think about the election, particularly after Hillary’s win in Pennsylvania. They think Hillary will win because America is more ready for a white woman than a Black man. I think she’ll win because I am fundamentally cynical about anything good happening through the American electoral system, and President Obama would be a good thing. In any case, the conversation finishes with me saying the only way the Democrats could lose the general election is if Hillary is their nominee, which means McCain will assume the throne, we’ll promptly invade Iran, and be in Iraq for at least another generation.
Here in Thailand, neighbor to Vietnam, the Iraq of my parents’ generation, I can see the other American war unfolding. Perhaps calling it American is unfair, as it is being perpetrated by a coalition of forces – American, English, French. The open-market world means that foreign investment can go just about anywhere. In Bangkok it takes the form of monumental shopping malls full of internationally branded stores most Thai could never afford to shop in. For that matter, neither can I.
As an American English teacher I met this week put it “They are really trying to not be a third world country.” Of course, while development proceeds at a break-neck speed, most Thai still live in poverty. My favorite place to eat so far is a Carrefour shopping center. Carrefour is sort of a French Wal-Mart, and this shopping center has a wonderful food court with a wide selection of Thai and Asian food and beverage for an affordable price. I usually pay about 60 baht ($2) for a meal with beverage and dessert. While that seems great to me, I realize that it’s at least double what a meal costs at a street stall, and is enough to be out of reach for most Thai.
On my way home from lunch today, I passed two severely maimed individuals, one with four half-limbs laying on his belly on the sidewalk writhing, one in a wheelchair with a completely burned face and eyes that looked like open wounds. Their age was right, and while their wounds had probably not been caused by the American war of the 60’s and early 70’s, I couldn’t help but wonder. That war is over (save the land mines an unexploded ordinance that still cause casualties today), but the economic war continues. Wealth is being extracted from this country by foreign and multinational corporations every second.
All this stirs around in my head with the uncomfortable truth that America is spiraling downward. The neo-fascist Bush regime is eroding democracy and civil rights, our dollar is losing value daily, we have less access to health care than Iraqis did before the US invaded, and our cultural influence is weaker than it has been since the end of the cold war.
I hope that some time soon we’ll find a way to make our country something to be proud of again. I hope that someday soon there will be no American War abroad, but rather a struggle at home, a mobilization to re-build ourselves and our country.
Long live the King
All over this country are pictures of the beloved King and Queen of Thailand. In the room I’m writing from alone, there are three of the couple. My Thai culture instructor, Sue, explained to us today that one must never say anything bad about the king, because we all love the king. The king is beloved, no one can ever criticize the King. I asked, if no one is allowed to say anything bad, how do you know that everyone really does love the king? What do we think about our King?
The King is on all the bills and coins, next to the shrines, in the subway, on the buildings, everywhere. The queen is sometimes with him, sometimes on her own.
People wear orange wrist bands like the yellow LIVE STRONG ones that say LONG LIVE THE KING in both English and Thai. (Still haven’t figured out where I can get one.)
At first I absolutely hated this, but I’m warming up to it. The king is politically insignificant, really just a symbol of national pride. I wish we had a symbolic king, instead of a truly despotic president who has usurped our democratic throne. I’d like to get one of those orange wrist bands, and maybe make an American version in red white and blue saying “Impeach the King!”
SEX STOP GLOBAL WARMING
I promise the proof in picture will come soon, you have to believe me for now. All over downtown Bangkok, there is a common piece of stenciled graffiti: SEX STOP GLOBAL WARMING. That’s right, SEX STOP GLOBAL WARMING.
The first thing that comes to mind is a general truth that if we spent more time enjoying non-polluting activities, or what some would call un-productive activities, such as sex, time with friends, drug use, etc. there would be much less energy used producing products.
The second thing that comes to mind are the five lanes of traffic beneath the sky bridge I’m walking on, including cars and diesel-burning ‘tuk-tuks.’ Maybe to stop global warming, more people should use the excellent public transit in this city, or live somewhere that doesn’t require 24-hour air conditioning…
…Or not fly across the Pacific Ocean just for kicks…guilty as charged.
Night and Day
I take back every time I said that jet lag is crap. I’m not sure if I’m 11 hours earlier or 13 hours later here, but I know that I want to be awake at night and sleep in the dayime.
Maybe this is why I came to Thailand, because I wanted something starkly different than home. I’ve found it! On the questionnaire the school gave me, when asked why I wanted to study in Thailand, I said to get out of my comfort zone. It worked… I feel a little bit confused and a little bit alone, just from 36 hours without any real conversation with someone who speaks my language as their first. It feels good.
I took the metro for one stop yesterday, at a cost of 15 baht = $.45. I could have walked to my destination but I wanted to check it out. I’ve recently been in Atlanta, New York and Washington, DC, all of which have pretty good public transit. The quality of the metro here puts them all to shame. I think I’ll take a trip all around town today on the train. On top of being exceedingly clean, modern, and fast it has air conditioning.
All packed up (I hope)
The international date line really messes with my head. The West coast is earlier than the East coast, Hawaii is earlier than the West coast, but some how when you go far enough west, it’s all of a sudden later instead of earlier.
Why does this matter? I’ll be flying, technically, for two days, and since I’m determined to write something each day during this trip, this will be my last chance (unless Tokyo Narita, the airport I’m transferring through, has free wireless, which it probably does) to get online until Friday.
Never got the extra battery and memory cards I wanted to have for my camera, thank you USPS. Other than that, I’m confident that I am materially prepared for the trip. Psychologically, who knows?
This trip will be a lot of things for me, among them four weeks of TESOL training, ten days of pure vacation and most importantly, six weeks outside of the USA.
Here is a selection of the advice I have received:
DO NOT:
Get suckered into the gem smuggling hustle. You will get ripped off. (guide book)
Have sex with proffesionals, because 50% them have HIV. (Paris)
DO:
Go see the musical elephants up North (Kenny)
Get a tailored suit (Janet)
Buy gems to bring them back and make money (Paris)
I’m late a flight!
