Yesterday I returned from a week in New Mexico on work. On the flight home, I started a new book called Smile When You’re Lying: Confessions of a Rogue Travel Writer – the travel writer being Chuck Thompson. It seemed appropriate (for me) and cliche for the first chapter to be about Thailand, but at least this writer wasn’t claiming Phuket to be the last great paradise or tearing apart the party-till-another-full-moon set on Koh Phangan for being annoyingly naive and insisting that those parties ended in 1987 (probably before they even got started).

Instead he wrote about a story that I could really relate to: getting scammed. This guy’s first trip to Thailand and he meets a group of “Bible thumping” Thai university students who accompany him to Koh Samet before stealing his 1200 USD. The best bit of it all was when he tracked down the women and summoned the local police. Here Thompson learned the greatest lesson – you’ll always be a falang, especially in a touristy area. Even though he summoned the cops on his behalf, he realized that the women had most likely bribed them into keeping their secret. Thompson knew they had the money, and the women and police knew he knew, but it was all futile – he was dead broke, scammed, and helpless.

Though I haven’t finished this book, and Thompson sometimes appears as cocky as most in the travel industry, there’s just some things I agree with him spot on. This story is great because it’s never the side of Thailand you read about from the US or UK or other western country, but it’s the side of Thailand that anyone who’s left the exclusive resorts on Phuket and in Bangkok will have encountered.

Us TEFLers spent the first weekend on Koh Samet, being only a 30 minute boat ride from it.That first Friday night, as anyone who’s been in college or drunk can imagine, was a shitshow. We still couldn’t get over how cheap things were – beach bungalow for 5 USD split at least two-ways, sometimes split 10-ways, buckets of sangsom and coke or G+Ts for 5 USD, and fireshows all over the island. It got fun, then messy, then sandy – especially for the people who passed out on the beach. I can think of at least six people who left their stuff in a pile on the beach at midnight – cell phone, 5000 baht, iPod, whatever – for a night swim thinking, ‘It’s okay, I can totally see my stuff.’ Well, lo and behold, they totally could not and when they got out a few minutes later, only sand was hidden underneath their clothing. I don’t know whether anyone tried the cops, but it would have been more futile than Thompson’s encounter; he was solo and sober, but picture at least a dozen drunk kids trying to ramble at the police. Only bad would have come of it.

A guy from England who always had a guitar on his back and handrolled cigarette ashing from his mouth had it the worst. He was one of the kids who lost his significant stash of baht and his camera from night swimming on Friday. He slept on the floor of our bungalow that night, convinced he’d get the first speedboat back to the mainland at sunrise, but when someone lent him just enough to stay on the island for another day, he did. Saturday night he passed out on the beach again – why no one was with him, no one knows.

Cue Sunday morning. The only things he had left on his body had been stolen – his cigarettes and his sunscreen. Even worse (or better, for those watching) was the amount of mosquitoes that had attacked his pasty, English skin. He was more spotted than a dart board in a dark bar, but his thick, mumbling accent and all-be-damned attitude helped him survive the day, as well as handouts from eager TEFLers who hadn’t been pillaged.

After the dinner, we went to Bo’s house for a last night there.  When she dropped me at home, she started crying.  Being a girl, well, it made me start crying, too.  Goodbye are not easy so Lenny and I decided just to say see you later and share a quick hug.

I got up at 7am this morning to put the final random bits in my backpack and get on the road.  I mentally noted everything and everyone in Pakthongchai that I came to rely on: my pedicure/massage place, the friendly post office folk, the ultimate trifecta of vendors – somtom, tom yum kung, and fresh orange smoothies, the Fresh Mart, the doctor who cures my mosquito bites, etc., etc., etc.  I will miss this place – and definitely the people. The town definitely became my home for the five or so months I was there, and I think it’ll be weird not coming back.

I got into Korat at 9:40am and was on a 10am bus to Chiang Khan.

I am here now. It’s beautiful.  The town sits on the Mekong River dividing Thailand and Lao, but you can’t officially cross into Lao so it’s a quiet spot.  I got into my guesthouse around 5:30pm in time for a glorious sunset.  Because this part of the Mekong runs west to east, I get sunset and sunrise on the same deck!

I don’t know that I’ll be making posts too often.  Island life starts next week and something about floating in the warm blue waters makes me ignore everything else.  (I’m absolutely okay with this.) So, from February 29 to March 29 I’m on the road.  Monday I’ll be in Bangkok for immigration, then I’m heading to Ko Tao in the Gulf of Thailand to meet some friends.  Finally I’m off to Angkor Wat in Cambodia for a quick few days before flying to Madrid to meet Rob.  We’re doing Madrid, Seville for Semana Santa, and then the Algarves.

Thanks to all my faithful readers – I’ve enjoyed writing this so much.  I want to keep writing when I get home, we’ll see what shape that takes, but keep checking back.  I will definitely have some words to say about re-entering American life.  Take care, keep traveling, cheers!

But seriously, Tuesday evening my friends Tik and Ing got married.  Tik is Bo’s cousin and also a teacher in the computer department at school.  The wedding was pretty and simple, but a ton of people came out and the food was delicious.  Lenny, Giselle and I ate like we never tasted it all before.  Oh, right…

Ing and Tik with some teachers.

This cute girl kept running past me and touching my arm.

Me and Tuk.

Crazy teachers.  The one on the left really is crazy, I think, and the one on the right is old and weird.  P-Goy, in the middle, is awesome!

Foodie falang!

Three of my ladyboys from Mathayom 6…MMa in the middle is awesome.

Just one of my M6s drinking some whiskey… (Arai-waa?)

THAT’s a wedding pose.

ALL (expletive) DONE! SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER!

It’s not that I’m sick of teaching, I’m just a bit ready to get out of the town and the students are dwindling but somehow still being louder and more obnoxious than ever.  The problem is that having just graduated from university last year, I can totally relate to the last-few-days-of-school hysteria and I don’t want to be at school anymoooooore!

Wait, I guess it is that I’m sick of teaching…Only six more days of reporting to school to go, come on February 29!

Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl with curly brown hair and blue eyes teaching in a faraway land. Everyone told her she was young, and compared to all the teachers in their 40s and 50s, she was. There was a particular young gentleman who taught Social Studies at the same school as her. Kieng was no Prince, but he was kind, shy, and spoke decent English and he always attended the teacher talks that the beautiful girl held with her Thai teacher friend.

One night the girl was talking a walk to get dinner and stumbled upon Kieng and his friends eating noodles. He asked the girl to join him, and in this culture it is rude to turn someone down for no reason: one must always save face. So she saved Kieng’s face and joined them. She had a good time with the friends who spoke little English as she used her very broken Thai. Kieng asked the beautiful girl her age and whether she was lonely or had a boyfriend. After learning that she was very young and had a boyfriend, he said he was 39. The beautiful girl was very surprised because she thought he might only be thirty. In this strange land, the natives often look younger than they are. And Kieng was.

Soon the friends decided to go to karaoke; they insisted the beautiful girl come along, so they pulled her onto their chariot (er, motorbike) and rode off. Sitting with the three men and the other four karaoke girls, the beautiful girl felt very out of place. The friends continued to be friendly, and Kieng continued asking questions about the girl’s home.

Eventually they left and Kieng took the beautiful girl home. When she descended from the chariot, Kieng told her he loved her and he wanted to be with her forever. While she did not love him back, she thought he was a nice guy. She said she was sorry and she told him to have a good night. He was sad. As soon as the girl got inside her home, the sky opened up and began pouring.

The beautiful girl hoped Kieng understood, but he had her phone number and within the next few days, he started calling her. Every day he made sure to call at least six times; every day the beautiful girl did not answer. Her friend remembered that Kieng was probably married- he had been just four months ago, and divorces in this land are uncommon and rather un-fairly-tale-like. The beautiful girl’s beautiful consultant encouraged her to keep ignoring the phone calls and by no means share this story with any other teachers – they are the town gossipers.

One weekend, Kieng was out of town so the phone calls to the beautiful girl stopped. The next week in the lunch room, the beautiful girl was sick and feeling less than beautiful, but Kieng asked whether she had received his calls. She thought about lying, but decided it best to be honest: she told him that it was not a good idea for them to talk. He finally understood, and even though she felt really badly, the beautiful girl knew she had made the right decision.

After that, Kieng only sent the beautiful girl friendly emails and one text message on Valentine’s Day. The beautiful girl lived happily ever after, and she can only hope Kieng will, too.

(Oh, and that’s powder on her face to make her skin whiter.  I kid not.)

It also included me losing my wallet.  5000 baht, my Thai bank card, my American bank card, my driver’s license, my house key, and my iPod shuffle were all stowed in the little zipper pouch.  Then, on the noon bus back to Korat, I realized my 4GB memory stick was also in my wallet.  You know, the one that held my official documents, my lesson plans, some music, oh and ALL MY PICTURES SINCE I GOT TO THAILAND.

Your condolences are appreciated.

Seriously, the kids have a basic uniform which is a white sailor-type top and blue skirt for the girls and a whitish blouse and khaki shorts for the boys. Then there’s the sports day uniform – black track pants and pink shirts for M4-6 and blue shirts for M1-3 (the school colors). Then we have the scouting uniforms for all of M1-3 that they wear usually on Thursdays. Then there’s the typical Monday uniform which is a yellow King shirt and black pants. Of course, we’re in mourning now so they King shirt can’t be worn until April 10. So that’s one less uniform I have to confuse myself and my students with.

OK, so the kids have uniforms, that’s not a big deal and is probably somewhat useful. But it doesn’t stop there, oh no, this is Thailand and things should be rather ridiculous whenever they can be. Thus we come to the uniforms for adults.

The adults have these scary militaristic uniforms that they wear for “serious” pictures. I bet you only need this if you’re a government worker to pose for horrible photos at official ceremonies and your yearly portrait that they can publish or show whenever you speak on national television. The really scary part is what their face must look like when they wear these things. They put on a very stern look – eyes slightly squinted in anger with lips pursed in a pencil-thin line. It’s as unflattering as it sounds. It makes women look very masculine and all men look identical.

Then we come to the scout uniforms for the adults. As far as I can tell, all M1-3 students have to be in either Boy Scouts, Girl Guides, or the Red Cross so they were decidedly scoutish uniforms with handkerchiefs around their necks and tassels on their knee-highs. But the adults wear similar outfits. The women have it better in this situation: they wear light-blue suits and heels with minimal scouting-references attached. The men, however, wear nearly the exact same thing as the 13- and 14-year old boys, resulting in some really old men looking really gay and creepy.

Finally, finally! Finally there is the obvious King shirt and black slacks which is more a style suggestion than a uniform. Everyone, even falang, can and does participate in this style. But again, we’re in mourning so you’ll see mostly black and white from the government workers and coveralls and schlubwear for the country folk.