I always finds ceremony interesting. I often think of what my old professor and friend told me about how grad students are like serial killers. They travel the foreign countryside, extracting tales from aging natives, scratching notes in notebooks. And then, as the aging native reveals his/her story, usually long held close to the heart, the storyteller dies, from the relief of release. I was aghast when I first heard this, and another professor asked if I had any respect for ritual. Hmm, I don't know. Probably not.
Of course, ceremony or ritual in a foreign country is a lot more interesting than in your own country, where you may not even recognize it as such. What I find fascinating (and also at the same time, sometimes boring), about Thailand is the need for ceremony at every level, for every reason, at any time. I have a quick example.
So, I’m at work on a Thursday, busy as usual. I’m at the tail-end of a staff meeting that I am running, including at that moment, a staff development seminar, where I am introducing a new writing activity for the classroom. A Thai teacher bursts into the room and after giving rapid apologies, demands that me and my assistant must immediately proceed to a ceremony about to start. What ceremony? Why? Where?
These questions are never easily answered in Thailand, unfortunately. Finally, I got a “where” out of the teacher and after throwing on a fresh coat of lipstick (looks are everything here), we proceeded to the named location. As we bypassed running and happily screaming children, we were directed into a small assembly room. We were immediately shocked to see lavish decorations all around, the Thai version of elevator music playing, and a small group of obvious VIP’s sitting or milling around. Through another set of doors a little dessert and coffee bar had been set-up. On the stage was a long table draped in pink satin with large arrangements of flowers placed here and there. What was this all for? The signing of a contract. The umbrella school I work at is about to (re)start construction on a massive building which will eventually house our own little school (as well as many other things). This large affair was for the simple 30 seconds of signing (and additional 4 minutes of photographs afterwards) that this would encompass. I was relieved actually. Often ceremonies like these can drone on for hours, where I find myself performing all sorts of Jedi mind tricks on myself to try and stifle the ear-splitting screaming going on inside my head, begging to be released from this motionless sitting position, where I have been listening to the same speech in Thai for over 45 minutes. I always want to sprint from the room, screaming bloody murder. My usual escape, if possible, is to feign having to use the restroom, then having a leisurely stroll around the hallway for as long as I can without arousing anger or suspicion. Then, back to my statue-like sitting and waterfall of thoughts. It seems the art of ritual here is the art of sitting still.
Monday, July 14, 2003
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling A+
Yes, I admit it. I am a Harry Potter fanatic. I’ve done the first book with my English class. I’ve read every book. I’ve bought various paraphernalia from the film (including the jammy pants I’m wearing now). And I’m constantly LOOKING for new things to buy. So, after receiving my pre-paid copy of Harry Potter book five, I took it home and put it on the shelf. I knew, as soon as I started reading it, I’d be obsessed. I think I made it about four days before I gave up and cracked the massive book open. Once that began, there was to be no stopping. I took it to work, to the gym where I awkwardly read it while pumping away at the exercise bike, at the bank, balancing it on one arm with my passport and banking documents in the other. In one week, the 776 page book was finished. I never read that fast in grad school, or at least, never enjoyed reading that fast. I think I started crying on about page 700 and didn’t stop til the end. It’s a kid’s book! Though I wonder how many kids have the attention span for such a mammoth-sized “children’s book.” I guess we’ll see. All I know is that for me and my adult friends, the Harry Potter books are absolutely obsessive page-turners. One friend finished book three and then begged me to rush home and get him book four. He didn’t want to go a day without it.
My only beef with the whole book has to do with the last 50 pages or so. Don’t worry, I don’t believe in spoiling a book/movie. Rowling does a good job in conveying the frustration and sometimes rage that Harry Potter, now a 15-year old boy, is experiencing in his tumultuous life. But at the end, a book which has been building to such a hyper pitch level that I could barely stand it, sort of ends in a gentle fashion, where you kind of go, “Um, okay. Well, that’s it then? Okay…” Plus, after all this crap that he endures, he’s still a pretty pissed off boy at the end of the book. Ahh adolescence!
I must say, the most intriguing character in this series is Professor Severus Snape. An interesting aspect to him was revealed in this book, and I hope he will be further expanded and explored in the future ones. He’s probably the most rounded character of the bunch and I’m really pleased that Alan Rickman has been cast as him. He’s doing a fabulous job. The only character of whom I really feel deprived was Remus Lupin, probably because he seems like the kind of guy I’d have a huge crush on in real life. Man, now I’m going to have to wait YEARS for the next movie and book. *sigh* Back to my beloved Roald Dahl books.
My only beef with the whole book has to do with the last 50 pages or so. Don’t worry, I don’t believe in spoiling a book/movie. Rowling does a good job in conveying the frustration and sometimes rage that Harry Potter, now a 15-year old boy, is experiencing in his tumultuous life. But at the end, a book which has been building to such a hyper pitch level that I could barely stand it, sort of ends in a gentle fashion, where you kind of go, “Um, okay. Well, that’s it then? Okay…” Plus, after all this crap that he endures, he’s still a pretty pissed off boy at the end of the book. Ahh adolescence!
I must say, the most intriguing character in this series is Professor Severus Snape. An interesting aspect to him was revealed in this book, and I hope he will be further expanded and explored in the future ones. He’s probably the most rounded character of the bunch and I’m really pleased that Alan Rickman has been cast as him. He’s doing a fabulous job. The only character of whom I really feel deprived was Remus Lupin, probably because he seems like the kind of guy I’d have a huge crush on in real life. Man, now I’m going to have to wait YEARS for the next movie and book. *sigh* Back to my beloved Roald Dahl books.
Sunday, June 15, 2003
My Lack of Moral Fiber
So yesterday I paid my second ever bribe here in Bangkok. Considering I've been here for nearly three years, and I daily ride a motorcycle all over the damn place (illegally), I consider that a bit of a triumph. That's kind of what happens to you here, you morals change. For many, they change dramatically. It's most interesting to me in Americans who are not aware of the intense sense of integrity that has been woven into their system through the years. "A bribe? What the fuck? What kind of backwards, corrupt place is this? Can't anyone DO something about this?"
The funny thing about morality is that it's really a facade, in my honest opinion. Whether you're a murderer or a priest, your morals are a very fragile thing. They can change much more easily than you'd ever think, and not because of some earth-shattering reason (someone's holding a gun to your head), but often, for something simple. My prime example: convenience.
That's the true reason most people pay bribes here. Simple convenience. You're stopped by a cop for some reason (and to be fair to the Thai police, the three times I've been stopped, I was breaking the law, though two of those times I didn't know it), and he tells you how he's going to write you out a ticket for like 400-1000 baht. Then you have to take the ticket to the police station (far away, and if you know anything about Bangkok, you know that it's a total hassle to do even the easiest things), where you will pay it there. You're sitting there in traffic, you're on your way to meet someone, go to work, etc. You flash 100 baht the policeman's way. At first he acts offended. After a few minutes of his striking several poses in your direction and looking over his shoulder to make sure other motorists are not gaping at him, he grabs the cash and waves you off. "Phew!" you whisper to yourself or to your passengers. "Glad that's over! Let's get out of here." The bribe is passed, you're on your way, and no thoughts of going to hell, bad karma, or the blackening of your soul crosses your mind.
Yeah, that's pretty much what happened to me. I was riding my motorcycle, with a friend on back, across the new Rama VIII bridge. Just on the other side is the infamous Khao San Road (a la Nasty Backpackersville) where several of us were meeting for an Indian meal. I was riding up up up the bridge, and after clearing the hump and coasting down, I saw him. The lone policeman next to his motorcycle, and directly in my path (the side margin of the road). I started going, "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." Usually I just avoid eye contact, but I'd have to run over him to get past him, so that plan wasn't going to work.
Yeah, he stopped me. He then told me that motorcycles weren't allowed on the bridge at all! Okay, that was a bit of a shocker. Not allowed on the bridge? Not that there aren't other bridges, but it's not like they're set real close together, and this was a brand new one. He told me it would cost 1000 baht. A hefty sum here! (about $23 USD and about 1/3 the monthly salary of about 60% of Thais). And damn it, we were already late (I had the guest of honor on the back of my bike), and people were already calling us on the phone and complaining).
With such a giant quote of the "ticket" I was to get, I knew the policeman wanted a bribe. That sum was way too inflated to be real. I fumbled into my pocket, all the while apologizing and trying to be charming enough to get myself off, until I pulled out about 140 baht and told him that's all I had. He kind of sneered and looked around nervously, but I knew it would do. Holding out it plainly on a busy bridge wasn't too inconspicuous, so I rolled it up and held it low. He looked around, struck his various poses, and then did a move that would have impressed David Copperfield. With a wave of his hand and flash of light, my money disappeared and the friendly policemen said he'd even escort us off the bridge for our trouble. Wow!
So, there it is. My second bribe ever (the first was for driving my motorcycle down a "bus only" lane). Do I feel bad? Truthfully, yeah, a little bit. I am perpetuating a corrupt system. Why? So, I can get to dinner a few minutes earlier and make the bad policeman disappear! *poof* But really, it surprises you when it's over. You kind of go, "that was it? My eternal damnation was that easy and that...dramaless?" Yeah, pretty much. There goes my "Get out of hell free" card.
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QUICKIE BOOK REVIEWS
Sweet Thames by Matthew Kneale - A
This is my new most favorite author in the world. By accident, I noticed my swelling bookshelves housed TWO books by him (chosen seperately at different times and bookstores). I went on to buy a third book by him. All are completely different and completely wonderful. Though none can top the greatness of his English Passengers, Sweet Thames is still a kick ass book of mid-19th century when the sewer problem of London was reaching epic nasty proportions and the infamous Cholera outbreak was on the verge of erupting. In the center of all this is an ambitous engineer and his own personal dramas. Historical fiction is always my favorite and this guy is fantastic. Academic and accurate without being too serious and dry. Entertaining and funny without being ridiculous. And with the ability to make yourself feel connected to the most unfortunate character in the book. Or is that just me?
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf - D
THANK GOD I finished this damn book!!! Oh Virginia, I tried SO hard to like this book. I felt some sort of obligation since you stuck all those rocks in your pocket and marched with such determination into the sea, yourself. But god, this book SUCKS! I hate stream of consciousness! I hated how this book dragged on and on and on like some sort of slow moving nightmare. I hated this book even more than The Map that Changed the World, and that's pretty bad.
The Lady Tree by Christie Dickason - A
Absolutely loved this book (more historical fiction) about young Englishman with a dark past who is forced into hastily earning a sizeable fortune in the crazy world of investment in 17th century Netherlands. I love any historical fiction that shows me a time/place I don't feel too familiar with (and that's not hard), and this book fit in nicely. It was fun to read and very gripping in parts, making my heart feel clenched. Absolutely recommended (though the whole Lady Tree part seemed totally irrelevent, though I know there is a sequel that should deal more with the actual "lady tree").
The Lost Continent by Bill Bryson - B
A very fun and often totally hysterical book to read about a now Englishman's (American-born and raised) road trip throughout the U.S. Fun to read, though it does drag on a bit and start to feel repetitive.
The funny thing about morality is that it's really a facade, in my honest opinion. Whether you're a murderer or a priest, your morals are a very fragile thing. They can change much more easily than you'd ever think, and not because of some earth-shattering reason (someone's holding a gun to your head), but often, for something simple. My prime example: convenience.
That's the true reason most people pay bribes here. Simple convenience. You're stopped by a cop for some reason (and to be fair to the Thai police, the three times I've been stopped, I was breaking the law, though two of those times I didn't know it), and he tells you how he's going to write you out a ticket for like 400-1000 baht. Then you have to take the ticket to the police station (far away, and if you know anything about Bangkok, you know that it's a total hassle to do even the easiest things), where you will pay it there. You're sitting there in traffic, you're on your way to meet someone, go to work, etc. You flash 100 baht the policeman's way. At first he acts offended. After a few minutes of his striking several poses in your direction and looking over his shoulder to make sure other motorists are not gaping at him, he grabs the cash and waves you off. "Phew!" you whisper to yourself or to your passengers. "Glad that's over! Let's get out of here." The bribe is passed, you're on your way, and no thoughts of going to hell, bad karma, or the blackening of your soul crosses your mind.
Yeah, that's pretty much what happened to me. I was riding my motorcycle, with a friend on back, across the new Rama VIII bridge. Just on the other side is the infamous Khao San Road (a la Nasty Backpackersville) where several of us were meeting for an Indian meal. I was riding up up up the bridge, and after clearing the hump and coasting down, I saw him. The lone policeman next to his motorcycle, and directly in my path (the side margin of the road). I started going, "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." Usually I just avoid eye contact, but I'd have to run over him to get past him, so that plan wasn't going to work.
Yeah, he stopped me. He then told me that motorcycles weren't allowed on the bridge at all! Okay, that was a bit of a shocker. Not allowed on the bridge? Not that there aren't other bridges, but it's not like they're set real close together, and this was a brand new one. He told me it would cost 1000 baht. A hefty sum here! (about $23 USD and about 1/3 the monthly salary of about 60% of Thais). And damn it, we were already late (I had the guest of honor on the back of my bike), and people were already calling us on the phone and complaining).
With such a giant quote of the "ticket" I was to get, I knew the policeman wanted a bribe. That sum was way too inflated to be real. I fumbled into my pocket, all the while apologizing and trying to be charming enough to get myself off, until I pulled out about 140 baht and told him that's all I had. He kind of sneered and looked around nervously, but I knew it would do. Holding out it plainly on a busy bridge wasn't too inconspicuous, so I rolled it up and held it low. He looked around, struck his various poses, and then did a move that would have impressed David Copperfield. With a wave of his hand and flash of light, my money disappeared and the friendly policemen said he'd even escort us off the bridge for our trouble. Wow!
So, there it is. My second bribe ever (the first was for driving my motorcycle down a "bus only" lane). Do I feel bad? Truthfully, yeah, a little bit. I am perpetuating a corrupt system. Why? So, I can get to dinner a few minutes earlier and make the bad policeman disappear! *poof* But really, it surprises you when it's over. You kind of go, "that was it? My eternal damnation was that easy and that...dramaless?" Yeah, pretty much. There goes my "Get out of hell free" card.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
QUICKIE BOOK REVIEWS
Sweet Thames by Matthew Kneale - A
This is my new most favorite author in the world. By accident, I noticed my swelling bookshelves housed TWO books by him (chosen seperately at different times and bookstores). I went on to buy a third book by him. All are completely different and completely wonderful. Though none can top the greatness of his English Passengers, Sweet Thames is still a kick ass book of mid-19th century when the sewer problem of London was reaching epic nasty proportions and the infamous Cholera outbreak was on the verge of erupting. In the center of all this is an ambitous engineer and his own personal dramas. Historical fiction is always my favorite and this guy is fantastic. Academic and accurate without being too serious and dry. Entertaining and funny without being ridiculous. And with the ability to make yourself feel connected to the most unfortunate character in the book. Or is that just me?
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf - D
THANK GOD I finished this damn book!!! Oh Virginia, I tried SO hard to like this book. I felt some sort of obligation since you stuck all those rocks in your pocket and marched with such determination into the sea, yourself. But god, this book SUCKS! I hate stream of consciousness! I hated how this book dragged on and on and on like some sort of slow moving nightmare. I hated this book even more than The Map that Changed the World, and that's pretty bad.
The Lady Tree by Christie Dickason - A
Absolutely loved this book (more historical fiction) about young Englishman with a dark past who is forced into hastily earning a sizeable fortune in the crazy world of investment in 17th century Netherlands. I love any historical fiction that shows me a time/place I don't feel too familiar with (and that's not hard), and this book fit in nicely. It was fun to read and very gripping in parts, making my heart feel clenched. Absolutely recommended (though the whole Lady Tree part seemed totally irrelevent, though I know there is a sequel that should deal more with the actual "lady tree").
The Lost Continent by Bill Bryson - B
A very fun and often totally hysterical book to read about a now Englishman's (American-born and raised) road trip throughout the U.S. Fun to read, though it does drag on a bit and start to feel repetitive.
Monday, May 12, 2003
Phuket Paradise? Part II: Love Lost (Is that a shark?)
So, it’s been awhile, but I’m going to continue my stories on my sort-of recent trip to Phuket, the island paradise (and requisite beach stop of any tourist) in Thailand.
The second day in Phuket was my time to go and do one of these planned adventure trips. Basically, you go up to one of a bajillion tourist operators, who all have the same brochures (go swordfishing! Go white water rafting! Go to the Phuket Fantase show! etc. etc.). I purchased two, and the one I went on first was a trip to Phi Phi island (pronounced “pee-pee,” … yeah, I know) where I was to see many gorgeous mini islands and go snorkeling. They picked me up early the next morning, and in the van was another man who said hello to me. I noticed right away he seemed to have a Scandinavian or German accent, but would have to wait awhile before I found out for sure. The next stop let on a whole slew of crazy young Japanese men, probably around 18-22 years each. Though it was like 8 in the morning, I think they may have been drunk, or probably still hanging on their inebriation from the night before. They certainly found me interesting and tried to make awkward, loud, and “let me impress my buddies” conversation with me. It was partly funny and partly really fucking annoying considering how early it was.
Soon we were at the dock and were loaded onto a very large ship with dozens of other tourists. A long boat ride ensued, which was fantastic. Gorgeous blue water, and these strange “islands,” some like a real small island size, and others almost like giant pieces of rock jutting defiantly out of the ocean, covered in green vegetation. They were all different shapes and were just sitting there in the middle of the ocean, not in view of any mainland or large islands. Just there. We passed dozens of them and I never grew tired of the beautiful view. I had another good view too. The young man in the van had turned out to be a Norwegian (hooray! I love Scandinavian men), and was not only good-looking, but interesting, considerate, and funny. In fact, in a weird twist of fate, he kind of looked like the Nordic version of the ex-love-of-my-life, a New York Jewish guy (I know, but I swear, the connection was there!). They had similar faces, bodies, and smiles. Anyway, this guy was different enough for it not to be weird or make me think I was doing some strange subconscious replacement.
I couldn’t believe my luck. As I have mentioned more than once, living in Bangkok is a total disaster for a single, white female. One other remarked that “we white women” feel “invisible” since no white man wants to date us and the Thai men see us more like a trophy. I don’t know how much I agree with that, but I have never found living here even remotely easy in the romance department. Since Western men are basically sucked off the arriving planes and scuttled away by eager Thai women and Thai men, I’ve found, tend to be embarrassingly immature and difficult to communicate with, dating here is….complicated. I’ve had to placate myself with the occasional Western man (mistake), the occasional Thai man (disappointing), and the occasional ex-lover flying into town (fantastic, but fleeting).
Anyway, so here I am on this beautiful ocean, the air is very hot but the wind is strong and this guy is great! He keeps offering to buy me drinks (no, not get me drunk, Pepsis and water too), and has even mentioned that I’m lovely. *cheer* We are occasionally interrupted though by this gaggle of older Japanese women. About every 20 minutes, one confidently strides up to me and motions that she wants to take a photo with me. So there I am having my picture taken, flanked by these Japanese women in their sun hats and big sunglasses. They never ask the Norwegian guy, in fact, they purposefully push him aside. Do they think I’m a celebrity? I have lived in Thailand awhile and had a lot of interest in me for various reasons, but I have never had strangers walk up to me and demand a photo. It was all very strange and very amusing.
Anyway, the young man and I are talking for a couple hours and are sharing our lives. After mentioning this gay friend of mine, I must have given him the cue he needed, because he reveals that he too is gay, and has been in a relationship for like four years with some gorgeous Swedish man.
*SOB*
“Oh, the humanity!” [sic]
I felt like a big, shiny balloon slowly deflating. Of course, I couldn’t change my positive feelings toward him just because I wouldn’t be able to sleep with him now. I tried to be mature about the whole thing, and I was, but still. What a shitty deal. No wonder I have so many gay friends. I think I attract them with some secretion I must put out. I’m obviously not putting anything out to any heterosexuals here, ‘cause I’d sure put out if I could! I’m no slut, but I’m no nun either. Though if I don’t get out of here soon, I might as well be.
Nevertheless, the trip must go on, and since he and I were on different tours, we separated once we got to Phi Phi island. I was truly sad to see him go. And I went on to a lunch, some time on the island, and finally to another smaller boat to go out snorkeling. It was the first time in my life that I have successfully snorkeled (I have some difficulty snorkeling/scuba diving because of the breathing), and thank GOD it worked this time! It was absolutely amazing. There I was, floating at the top of the water, looking down at sea floor just 10-25 feet below. It was like pressing your face up to a page in a Jacques Cousteau book. It seemed so unreal to see things you’d see on a documentary or in a glossy coffee table book just suddenly there in front of you. Sea urchins, coral, various brightly colored fish, and even some sort of snake at one time….which led to an slightly embarrassing moment.
After seeing the snake, and not knowing if that was a GOOD thing, I quickly turned around and quickly pumped my finned-feet back to the boat. As I got closer, I shouted up to the guy, “There was a snake, a snake. Is that dangerous?” I said it all in Thai, but “snake” was said in English (they know it by the English name as well). A Russian man swimming nearby heard me, but somehow heard, “shark” instead of “snake” and began to totally panic. Without fins, he frantically swam back to the ship, terrified. He finally was set straight and relaxed a bit. The Thais, in their typical way, told me, “Oh yeah, they’re dangerous. Just try to stay away from them.”
Oh, okay.
It was fantastic anyway, and after a long day, I returned home. Horribly sunburnt, but happy. More on the sunburn later. *shudder*
The second day in Phuket was my time to go and do one of these planned adventure trips. Basically, you go up to one of a bajillion tourist operators, who all have the same brochures (go swordfishing! Go white water rafting! Go to the Phuket Fantase show! etc. etc.). I purchased two, and the one I went on first was a trip to Phi Phi island (pronounced “pee-pee,” … yeah, I know) where I was to see many gorgeous mini islands and go snorkeling. They picked me up early the next morning, and in the van was another man who said hello to me. I noticed right away he seemed to have a Scandinavian or German accent, but would have to wait awhile before I found out for sure. The next stop let on a whole slew of crazy young Japanese men, probably around 18-22 years each. Though it was like 8 in the morning, I think they may have been drunk, or probably still hanging on their inebriation from the night before. They certainly found me interesting and tried to make awkward, loud, and “let me impress my buddies” conversation with me. It was partly funny and partly really fucking annoying considering how early it was.
Soon we were at the dock and were loaded onto a very large ship with dozens of other tourists. A long boat ride ensued, which was fantastic. Gorgeous blue water, and these strange “islands,” some like a real small island size, and others almost like giant pieces of rock jutting defiantly out of the ocean, covered in green vegetation. They were all different shapes and were just sitting there in the middle of the ocean, not in view of any mainland or large islands. Just there. We passed dozens of them and I never grew tired of the beautiful view. I had another good view too. The young man in the van had turned out to be a Norwegian (hooray! I love Scandinavian men), and was not only good-looking, but interesting, considerate, and funny. In fact, in a weird twist of fate, he kind of looked like the Nordic version of the ex-love-of-my-life, a New York Jewish guy (I know, but I swear, the connection was there!). They had similar faces, bodies, and smiles. Anyway, this guy was different enough for it not to be weird or make me think I was doing some strange subconscious replacement.
I couldn’t believe my luck. As I have mentioned more than once, living in Bangkok is a total disaster for a single, white female. One other remarked that “we white women” feel “invisible” since no white man wants to date us and the Thai men see us more like a trophy. I don’t know how much I agree with that, but I have never found living here even remotely easy in the romance department. Since Western men are basically sucked off the arriving planes and scuttled away by eager Thai women and Thai men, I’ve found, tend to be embarrassingly immature and difficult to communicate with, dating here is….complicated. I’ve had to placate myself with the occasional Western man (mistake), the occasional Thai man (disappointing), and the occasional ex-lover flying into town (fantastic, but fleeting).
Anyway, so here I am on this beautiful ocean, the air is very hot but the wind is strong and this guy is great! He keeps offering to buy me drinks (no, not get me drunk, Pepsis and water too), and has even mentioned that I’m lovely. *cheer* We are occasionally interrupted though by this gaggle of older Japanese women. About every 20 minutes, one confidently strides up to me and motions that she wants to take a photo with me. So there I am having my picture taken, flanked by these Japanese women in their sun hats and big sunglasses. They never ask the Norwegian guy, in fact, they purposefully push him aside. Do they think I’m a celebrity? I have lived in Thailand awhile and had a lot of interest in me for various reasons, but I have never had strangers walk up to me and demand a photo. It was all very strange and very amusing.
Anyway, the young man and I are talking for a couple hours and are sharing our lives. After mentioning this gay friend of mine, I must have given him the cue he needed, because he reveals that he too is gay, and has been in a relationship for like four years with some gorgeous Swedish man.
*SOB*
“Oh, the humanity!” [sic]
I felt like a big, shiny balloon slowly deflating. Of course, I couldn’t change my positive feelings toward him just because I wouldn’t be able to sleep with him now. I tried to be mature about the whole thing, and I was, but still. What a shitty deal. No wonder I have so many gay friends. I think I attract them with some secretion I must put out. I’m obviously not putting anything out to any heterosexuals here, ‘cause I’d sure put out if I could! I’m no slut, but I’m no nun either. Though if I don’t get out of here soon, I might as well be.
Nevertheless, the trip must go on, and since he and I were on different tours, we separated once we got to Phi Phi island. I was truly sad to see him go. And I went on to a lunch, some time on the island, and finally to another smaller boat to go out snorkeling. It was the first time in my life that I have successfully snorkeled (I have some difficulty snorkeling/scuba diving because of the breathing), and thank GOD it worked this time! It was absolutely amazing. There I was, floating at the top of the water, looking down at sea floor just 10-25 feet below. It was like pressing your face up to a page in a Jacques Cousteau book. It seemed so unreal to see things you’d see on a documentary or in a glossy coffee table book just suddenly there in front of you. Sea urchins, coral, various brightly colored fish, and even some sort of snake at one time….which led to an slightly embarrassing moment.
After seeing the snake, and not knowing if that was a GOOD thing, I quickly turned around and quickly pumped my finned-feet back to the boat. As I got closer, I shouted up to the guy, “There was a snake, a snake. Is that dangerous?” I said it all in Thai, but “snake” was said in English (they know it by the English name as well). A Russian man swimming nearby heard me, but somehow heard, “shark” instead of “snake” and began to totally panic. Without fins, he frantically swam back to the ship, terrified. He finally was set straight and relaxed a bit. The Thais, in their typical way, told me, “Oh yeah, they’re dangerous. Just try to stay away from them.”
Oh, okay.
It was fantastic anyway, and after a long day, I returned home. Horribly sunburnt, but happy. More on the sunburn later. *shudder*
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
Salsa, Frida, and Book Reviews
So, I had this kind of embarrassing experience. I've joined this gym to get my fat ass motivated and moving (the astounding price I paid for the first three months is enough to get me to go anyway). They have a wide assortment of aerobics classes every day from dawn to well past dusk. I noticed a "Latin" one listed and was pretty excited, since I love Latin music and dancing. It took me a couple weeks to work up the nerve to join though. Not only was it listed as an intermediate level, but it was late at night. So, one night I worked out hard in my t-shirt, umbro shorts, and cross-trainers. I did all the required running and sweating, as well as some weight training. Sweaty and ready for an aerobics workout, I walked up to the room. Outside I saw a small Thai woman dressed very stylishly in a swirly mini skirt, sexy orange shirt with a little orange scarf tied around her throat, and some flashy high heels. Truly in my mind though I was rolling my eyes, "Why do people come to the gym dressed like this???" I walked into the workout room and saw that everyone was wearing skirts and high heels. ???
Turns out that it was a Latin DANCE class (Salsa, to be exact). I was both thrilled and appalled. Also turns out the cute little orange woman was the instructor! (okay, the clothes are therefore approved). There I was in my mammoth shoes (I'm already large by Thai standards), with an impressive sweat ring circling my neck and down my back. Everyone else was fresh as a daisy and seemed to know what the hell they were doing. No one was really volunteering to dance with me. Nonetheless, I gave it a try, and besides standing around alone most of the time and feeling like an idiot (there are never enough men to go around at these things and I can't ask some guy to pay a load to join the gym for this), I had a pretty good time. In fact, I went again, wearing my heels and smelling April spring fresh. This time they said I was a good dancer, which was a total lie, but I am much better! Hooray! Here's to tackling your fears, even if you think you look like an ass. Now I can salsa! Kind of!
**********
Just saw the movie, Frida here. I admit knowing nothing about this woman before the film (besides the few things you heard about her body, her husband, and her sexuality, sadly, less about her art), but after this movie, I sure would like to learn more. Wonderful film; best I've seen in awhile. It's rare that I'll hate a film, but it's rare I'll love one too. Also, the soundtrack is fucking fantastic, so run out and buy it. Chavela Vargas' (herself a past lover of Frida),"Paloma Negra" (an old recording) is fantastic, as well as her live performance in the film itself, La Llorona many years later.
Quickie Book Reviews
The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - A
Sure....it's outdated, and features wisps of racism (Africans called "savages"), sexism (all the women are beautiful, helpless, and long-suffering, or ugly and evil), and some interesting drug use (Holmes' interest in cocaine, for example), but you cannot beat these stories. My ear-flap hunting cat's off to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's arrogant, asexual hero and his helpful, also long-suffering sidekick, Dr. Watson. Bonus: This book contained actual reprints of the stories as they appeared in The Strand magazine nearly a hundred years ago, complete with the original delightful illustrations. It'll take you about a century to read this (it makes "bible print" look magnified), but it's well worth it.
Immortality by Milan Kundera B+
Okay, he's one of my favorite authors, though kind of confusing or annoying. And though he claims he doesn't write philosophy, he's not fooling me. This novel deals (mainly) with the analysis of what it is like to return to your home country after many years away as a "refugee." And in his usual style, he takes out long passages to focus and deeply analyze single words and how that one word is interpreted by different kinds of individuals. I really liked it; he always makes me think and he must have about 12 good quotable quotes in each novel, this one no exception. I will be giving it to a friend as a gift, but if you're not as epileptic reader as I, I recommend you read the fantastic, The Unbearable Lightness of Being instead.
Turns out that it was a Latin DANCE class (Salsa, to be exact). I was both thrilled and appalled. Also turns out the cute little orange woman was the instructor! (okay, the clothes are therefore approved). There I was in my mammoth shoes (I'm already large by Thai standards), with an impressive sweat ring circling my neck and down my back. Everyone else was fresh as a daisy and seemed to know what the hell they were doing. No one was really volunteering to dance with me. Nonetheless, I gave it a try, and besides standing around alone most of the time and feeling like an idiot (there are never enough men to go around at these things and I can't ask some guy to pay a load to join the gym for this), I had a pretty good time. In fact, I went again, wearing my heels and smelling April spring fresh. This time they said I was a good dancer, which was a total lie, but I am much better! Hooray! Here's to tackling your fears, even if you think you look like an ass. Now I can salsa! Kind of!
**********
Just saw the movie, Frida here. I admit knowing nothing about this woman before the film (besides the few things you heard about her body, her husband, and her sexuality, sadly, less about her art), but after this movie, I sure would like to learn more. Wonderful film; best I've seen in awhile. It's rare that I'll hate a film, but it's rare I'll love one too. Also, the soundtrack is fucking fantastic, so run out and buy it. Chavela Vargas' (herself a past lover of Frida),"Paloma Negra" (an old recording) is fantastic, as well as her live performance in the film itself, La Llorona many years later.
Quickie Book Reviews
The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - A
Sure....it's outdated, and features wisps of racism (Africans called "savages"), sexism (all the women are beautiful, helpless, and long-suffering, or ugly and evil), and some interesting drug use (Holmes' interest in cocaine, for example), but you cannot beat these stories. My ear-flap hunting cat's off to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's arrogant, asexual hero and his helpful, also long-suffering sidekick, Dr. Watson. Bonus: This book contained actual reprints of the stories as they appeared in The Strand magazine nearly a hundred years ago, complete with the original delightful illustrations. It'll take you about a century to read this (it makes "bible print" look magnified), but it's well worth it.
Immortality by Milan Kundera B+
Okay, he's one of my favorite authors, though kind of confusing or annoying. And though he claims he doesn't write philosophy, he's not fooling me. This novel deals (mainly) with the analysis of what it is like to return to your home country after many years away as a "refugee." And in his usual style, he takes out long passages to focus and deeply analyze single words and how that one word is interpreted by different kinds of individuals. I really liked it; he always makes me think and he must have about 12 good quotable quotes in each novel, this one no exception. I will be giving it to a friend as a gift, but if you're not as epileptic reader as I, I recommend you read the fantastic, The Unbearable Lightness of Being instead.
Monday, April 14, 2003
Quickie Book Reviews
The Sex Killers: Thirty Fully Documented Cases of Men and Women Whose Aberrant Sexuality Drove Them to Kill (Lucas) C-
I'd be lying if I said true murder cases don't interest me. I used to watch the tv show Unsolved Mysteries religiously and did read In Cold Blood and Dead Men Do Tell Tales (fascinating books, though a bit tedious). Though it presents a wide variety of macabre and interesting cases throughout the 20th century, I found myself perplexed and confused by the writing of The Sex Killers. It seemed archaic, prejudiced, and unprofessional, particularly toward homosexuals. I looked for a copyright page and found none. (??). After a quick search on Amazon, I found it as an out-of-print book, with suspiciously little information, including no copyright. Titilating cases, but terrible writing.
The Lovely Bones (Sebold) A-
Well, Kundera complained that there was no re-invention of the novel going on, but Sebold here sure made an attempt. I don't think she did anything revolutionary, but she did come up with an intriguing plot -- a young girl is murdered and transported to heaven where she narrates her tale. That's where the book could have taken off into Kundera's hopes and dreams, but Sebold had a different idea. Instead, she focused on what the death of a child does to a family -- each individual and all the interconnecting relationships within and without the family unit. And not just for a few months, but for several years. How does death rip apart two people, how does it make someone flee and someone else fight? As all this is going on, the suspense of catching the killer is always looming large in the background, sometimes rather distractingly, as you fly through the book. Well-written and enjoyable.
A Walk to Remember (Sparks) B-
Okay, I know this guy has had two books made into movies, but umm, I don't get it. I read this book in just a few hours. It was sweet and occasionally humorous, (a story about a painfully religious girl and self-absorbed rich boy falling in love), but overall, it felt like one step up from a Sweet Valley High or Harlequin Romance to me. Not to mention a fairly predictable and sickly-sweet ending. I gave it a B- for its ease and speed (I do believe how enjoyable a book is should not take away from its legitimacy), but I can't really recommend it as a great read.
I'd be lying if I said true murder cases don't interest me. I used to watch the tv show Unsolved Mysteries religiously and did read In Cold Blood and Dead Men Do Tell Tales (fascinating books, though a bit tedious). Though it presents a wide variety of macabre and interesting cases throughout the 20th century, I found myself perplexed and confused by the writing of The Sex Killers. It seemed archaic, prejudiced, and unprofessional, particularly toward homosexuals. I looked for a copyright page and found none. (??). After a quick search on Amazon, I found it as an out-of-print book, with suspiciously little information, including no copyright. Titilating cases, but terrible writing.
The Lovely Bones (Sebold) A-
Well, Kundera complained that there was no re-invention of the novel going on, but Sebold here sure made an attempt. I don't think she did anything revolutionary, but she did come up with an intriguing plot -- a young girl is murdered and transported to heaven where she narrates her tale. That's where the book could have taken off into Kundera's hopes and dreams, but Sebold had a different idea. Instead, she focused on what the death of a child does to a family -- each individual and all the interconnecting relationships within and without the family unit. And not just for a few months, but for several years. How does death rip apart two people, how does it make someone flee and someone else fight? As all this is going on, the suspense of catching the killer is always looming large in the background, sometimes rather distractingly, as you fly through the book. Well-written and enjoyable.
A Walk to Remember (Sparks) B-
Okay, I know this guy has had two books made into movies, but umm, I don't get it. I read this book in just a few hours. It was sweet and occasionally humorous, (a story about a painfully religious girl and self-absorbed rich boy falling in love), but overall, it felt like one step up from a Sweet Valley High or Harlequin Romance to me. Not to mention a fairly predictable and sickly-sweet ending. I gave it a B- for its ease and speed (I do believe how enjoyable a book is should not take away from its legitimacy), but I can't really recommend it as a great read.
I had CNN news on just now, which should be renamed to AWAT - "ALL WAR ALL THE TIME (WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE?). It reminds me of how we used to call the History Channel, "All Nazis All the Time." It was more funny then. Now, it's kind of weird. I guess Americans do love their wars.
What really freaked me out and caused me to write at a moment when I was going to run off to take a shower instead, was CNN showed Bush, giving one of his usual stuttering, spluttering speeches on America. And basically, I listened as he hinted that after we take care of this Iraq thing, that Syria is next! This because he knows that Syria has "chemical weapons" in their country and just "might" be making conditions to accept Saddam's cronies "if" they should cross the border.
*SCREEEEAAAAAAMM*
Syria is next? What the hell is going on? Is the entire world just a Risk(tm) game board to Bush? A woman on TV hinted that since it looks like the US won't be finding any "weapons of mass destruction" and they can just claim that they've all be scuttled off to Syria all along.
*gulp*
I have to admit that Bush scares me very much. I don't think he's maniacal, but I do find most of what he does shocking, unbelievable, and frightening. Clinton was President for eight years and never found the pressing need to go after Iraq RIGHT NOW! Like I've mentioned before, I've spent years listening to Europeans say how stupid and arrogant Americans are. I've always been so annoyed by that and defended Clinton as best I could. But now, now I feel I'm without a defense. I do love my country, but I cannot defend the actions of my government. That feels awful. .
What really freaked me out and caused me to write at a moment when I was going to run off to take a shower instead, was CNN showed Bush, giving one of his usual stuttering, spluttering speeches on America. And basically, I listened as he hinted that after we take care of this Iraq thing, that Syria is next! This because he knows that Syria has "chemical weapons" in their country and just "might" be making conditions to accept Saddam's cronies "if" they should cross the border.
*SCREEEEAAAAAAMM*
Syria is next? What the hell is going on? Is the entire world just a Risk(tm) game board to Bush? A woman on TV hinted that since it looks like the US won't be finding any "weapons of mass destruction" and they can just claim that they've all be scuttled off to Syria all along.
*gulp*
I have to admit that Bush scares me very much. I don't think he's maniacal, but I do find most of what he does shocking, unbelievable, and frightening. Clinton was President for eight years and never found the pressing need to go after Iraq RIGHT NOW! Like I've mentioned before, I've spent years listening to Europeans say how stupid and arrogant Americans are. I've always been so annoyed by that and defended Clinton as best I could. But now, now I feel I'm without a defense. I do love my country, but I cannot defend the actions of my government. That feels awful. .
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