Another Irrelevant Blog

change of address

2007-05-14T03:43:00.000-07:00

ok
i now have a new special blog site, set up by my brother
it's basically the same as this one, except with a cooler html
http://stevenpillemer.com

Like, totally no way.

2007-05-10T17:12:00.001-07:00

Okay, so like, Je-sus. London on Saturday.

Prologue

2007-05-07T14:25:00.000-07:00

A novel will frequently begin with a prologue. The prologue establishes something that becomes an integral part of the novel as it weaves onwards from it's first chapter. In the Da Vanci code, it's when the weird old secret service grandad of the French Translator chick gets whacked. It sets something up, for the reader, that reveals certain information to him that is beyond the grasp of the main protagonist.

I am currently in the opening chapter of the next phase of my life. Unbeknownst to me the prologue is occuring elsewhere in the world and I am blithely unaware of it. Some situation, some person, some reality is occuring somewhere that I am about to inadvertantly step into. I, the protagonist of my life, have no clue as to what this shall be.

You the reader do not either, because in the novel of a life the only objective viewer are aliens or God or Big Brother depending on what set of conspiracies you choose to believe to explain the unexplainable nature of the universe. Perhaps it is a book unread. Certainly Dawkins would say it is so.

Chapter one progresses with tying up the odd ends of my life, leaving Cape Town, packing boxes, not really saying goodbye to everyone I should have said goodbye to and receiving slightly petulant e-mails, smses and face-book messages to vaugely inquire into the rude nature of my behaviour.

In Chapter One the status quo of the protangonist gets set up as well as what he expects. Or she. In this case he.

London. What do I expect?

Mm.

Those tube station signs.

That's about it. The rest is a mystery.

Ooh, and British accents.

Competitive vibes

2007-05-03T06:55:00.000-07:00

Ergh. My brother convinced me to add my blog to Amatomu which is like a blog ranking rating system, and now I feel obliged to write more on it, because I'm competitive. Not in like a sports kind of way though. I don't like to run fast, or shoot well, or y'know, hit things.

Except walls, but only when I'm feeling really frustrated.

Or want to have some cool knuckle bruises to impress chicks with.

See, now I'm just showing off.

Women, man... my new show did it's first preview last night and opens on Friday. The preview went well, people laughed, even at the bit where someone threatens to cut out someone else's tongue. I always get worried when using excessive violence as a source of comedy, but hey, they say the essence of comedy is someone else's misery, and people laughed it up.

And then at the end, in one of the sad monologues, this group of girls sitting around a table all started crying. It was awesome.

I like to make girls cry.

Now I'm just showing off again.

Stupid competitive blogging vibe, it makes me act out.

I don't recommend this

2007-04-24T10:05:00.000-07:00

My car is totally decrepit. A sad sorry car with dents and scratches and mischievous breaks. I never treated it with the love it should have been given, and now it's coming back to me as a form of karmic punishment. By that I mean my bad energy towards my car has turned getting rid of the crap heap into a totally soul-draining mission. No one wants to buy it. Not the VW people. Not the dodgy second hand car dealers in Woodstock. No one. People snigger when I show it to them, and reply: "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said it was a bit of a fixer-upper."

I read a funny quote on the internet last night. It says: "Good judgement comes from bad experiences which come from bad judgement." The great learning curve of life. Stupid thing that it is.

Also I wouldn't recommend trying to stage a play over the exact same time you're trying to tie up all the loose ends of your life as you depart from the city you live. What a mission.

Although London soon. Scary. Exciting. Wee.

Back on the wagon

2007-04-18T11:15:00.000-07:00

Ah, blogging, a past time that passes time. Throwing words into the web and letting them get stuck there for all eternity. Giving the voiceless a voice and the faceless a face. Except for the voiceless and faceless people that can't afford the internet. Money, money, money.

Tonight I play poker. A R50 buy in. Perhaps I can earn enough money to get me drunk this weekend.

For my angry fan base

2007-01-25T05:03:00.000-08:00

So it's been a long time since I last posted a blog.

My backpack was lost and then found by the aiport a few days later.

I was in airports for over 26 hours and every flight I was on was delayed.

I'm now back in Cape Town and it's stupid hot.

There's a line from a poet called Rumi which reads: "In the Winter we want Summer, but then it comes and we don't like it."

I should be working on the script that Terri and I have done that is going to be staged in Durban, but it's hard to concentrate when you're blinded by the sweat dripping from your brow.

I went to work in Gardens Centre at a coffee shop on the script earlier today, because it's air conditioned there and then I left the Centre and proceeded to sweat on everything.

I went to my friend Rob who has a pool to try and work there, because we have a new maid (and Jonx and Tracy forced me to fire the old one, even though they hired her, so I had to be the evil one, those bastards) and I didn't want to be in her way while she worked.

I ended up spending about 2 hours in Rob's pool and doing very little productive work, and met a nice girl called Candice who was doing the same thing. She was a model, but had a very fat tummy. I didn't realise that was allowed.

Studying law through Unisa semi-sucks. A few of the books are interesting, but some of them are very not interesting, and failure would be too embarrassing, especially because my ex-girlfriend has just started doing law at UCT, and so I have to get better marks then her, otherwise she'll be able to gloat, and I want the gloating points. Man, but I actually have to be in charge of myself and not have some lecturer teaching me.

I still don't know what I'm doing with my life and where I'm going to live this year, but I've given myself until the 15th of Februrary to make a decision, which means I'll probably have made it around the 25th Februrary. At the moment I'm tending towards London, just because I keep on hearing about how if you can make your own work and it's reviewed well... well then things can be different. Also a friend of mine described the London Art Scene versus the South African Art Scene as thus. In London you're considered an Artist, in South Africa you're considered a Drama Student (even if you haven't been one for 20 years.) It's just a totally different attitude to the Arts.

I might go to JHB though. I don't know yet. Maybe the Sitcom will still happen. (Ha, ha, ha.)

I think instead of doing any work I'll go to the beach and take a law book with me. That way I'll have a big book to hold over my face so as to not get sunburnt. Perhaps I'll even open it.

It had to happen sometime

2007-01-10T22:52:00.000-08:00

I'm bored.

I got up at 7 am Thai Time, which is like 2 am in South Africa, because I was worried I wouldn't be able to do everything I wanted to do, but many of the things I did this morning cost much more money then I suspected, and so now I can't do any of my afternoon activities because I can't afford to get anywhere. I can only move about by foot, and my feet have reached the end of nearby (ie under an hour) walkways.

Getting up that early was stupid, because now I have nothing to do until I catch my bus and no money to do it with. Well, not entirely true, I have 30 Baht for this internetting and then 100 Baht for supper.

Anyone know any good jokes? Maybe a game of cards? No?

Crap

2007-01-10T08:38:00.000-08:00

I leave tomorrow.

The only good thing about it is that I have basically overspent my budget and can't eat if I want to keep my 500 Baht airport tax and so get out of the country.

I hope all the must-sees are free or 30 Baht or less - I think they are. They're all in walking distance.

The pingpong show was extremely disturbing. Ping pong balls weren't the half of it. There was opening bottles. Disturbing. Shooting darts at balloons metres away. Very disturbing. That woman could be some kind of hardcore assassin if she so desired.

It's amazing how many people you meet when you travel on your own. Found myself at dinner with five strangers, and only 2 of them could speak English. One could speak Hebrew and Amharic, which is the main language in Ethiopia. He was from Ethiopia. Everyone was surprised that I went there, and thought me a little insane, and I explained I went for a woman, and then they thought I was more insane.

I showed them the picture of me eating the cockroach and that trumped any possible belief in my sanity.

The only problem with travelling on your own is that everything is more expensive. I like my own company, primarily because I'm quite amusing, if only to myself, so that's fine, but it means not being able to share taxis or rooms, which quickly add up to expensive. Which is why I'm now broke.

I lost two bracelets on this trip, both of which I purchased on this trip, and both of which I lost the day after purchasing for various reasons. The first I blame on the latch, and the second I blame on the Bucket of Joy.

I found the exact same two in the same shop and went for the second one I bought, and bargained it down to 100 Baht, instead of the 150 I paid last time, so all in all I paid the asking price of 250 Baht. Stupid. I hope I don't lose it. I should put it in my bag. But I won't. Instead I'll lose it.

Waiting for a bus

2007-01-09T21:05:00.000-08:00

So elected to go back to Bangkok today and only spend one day in Kanchanaburi. Waiting for my bus. Dum dee dum. This way can go and see a big night market and the ping pong show tonight (apparently a must see) and then the palace and a bunch of temples and the MBK tomorrow (apparently must sees) and then get back in time to have one last delicious Thai dinner and then off to the airport by 9:30 pm.

Yesterday I had the three best temples I have seen in my trip to Thailand all to myself. There were literally no other people, except for two Thai people. It's the most isolated 'tourist' spot I've been to since I've been here. Massive temples. Beautiful. Giant Buddhas. Caves. A naga you can walk into and be swallowed by. All of them high, high, high.

Oops, here comes my bus.

Onwards and onwards

2007-01-08T20:00:00.000-08:00

Firstly I apologise for the dangerously long sentences used in many instances in the previous blog, which could cause harm to irregular readers.

I bid farewell to my new best friend this morning, a girl named Amber, who was also annoyed by the 18 year old British kids on the bus. It's funny how self-centred humans can be. Two of these kids managed to lose their tickets for the bus (possibly while vomiting off the side of the boat) and when the bus people wanted their tickets they didn't have them.

The bus people were worried because if they didn't have their tickets, it meant they couldn't show the tickets to their bosses and that meant they would have to pay for them, but the British kids got really upset about it, because it meant that they would have to buy new tickets (and c'mon, it takes a special kind of stupid to lose a ticket given to you as you get on the boat and lost before you get off the boat) and so they had a screaming match with the gentle Thai folk, who became very embarrassed but firm and kept on saying: "Pease, do noh shou' a'me." Amber and I shook our heads sadly. The first bus ferried us to the stop where we would wait for our second and longer bus to Bangkok, which is where our overnight 'luxury' bus would deliver us to Bangkok from and is where I blogged last night.

Rather then sitting in the little tourist trap they drop you at to wait at, the two of us buggered off and found the night market, which was a really real one, and actually sold ingredients more then anything else, such as live creatures, frogs with their legs tied together and eels in buckets, or hunks of meat or freshly caught prawns amidst and array of bizarre fruits and vegetables and other strange smelling things.

Eventually we found a place on the side of the street which sold extremely delicious food for less then 30 Baht in total, and was one of the tastiest meals of my trip as well as one of the cheapest.

Amber nearly missed the bus because she was interneting and so I ended up sitting on my own behind one of the British kids, who instantly dropped his reclining seat back all the way so it bashed me in the knees. Now I know there's some conjecture over the issue of reclining seats, and how moral it is to use them to their full extent. I find that generally short people, or selfish people, have absolutely no problem using them, because people having no choice but to view the world with them as it's centre, because all is perceptive; short people don't neccessarily realise that if you're over a certain height and that seat is dropped back it will make your entire journey miserable, and selfish people think that their own personal comfort is more important than anyone else's personal comfort. Perhaps an argument could be made that the person who is dropping his seat back paid for that seat and so is entitled to it's full comfort, but the counter-argument would be that the person who is having their knees crushed paid for their seat too, and is on the rand and not the pound, so they actually paid more from a certain perspective, and are therefore entitled to their full comfort, which includes not having one's knees crushed.

I couldn't even stick my legs off to the side, because some entripsing soul had decided to sleep in the aisle, which meant I had to kick him in the face if I wanted to stick my legs out, but at about 3 in the morning I gave up on caring and kicked him in the face a few times, possibly a few more times then absolutely neccessary.

The bus arrived in Bangkok at 5 am and Amber and I decided to share a tuk-tuk to the train station, because I wanted to catch a train to Kanchanaburi to do some cultural sight-seeing, and she wanted to catch a train to Chang Mai. An American wanted to join us, but became very wary when he realised we were going to catch a tuk-tuk and tried to convince us to share a taxi. After bartering with the tuk-tuk guy the price came to 60 Baht for all three of us, as opposed to 200 Baht for 3 of us, and we told the American to either get in or get out and so he got in. On the way I found out he had never been in a tuk-tuk before, never used the trains before, and had only been in buses commandeered by tour companies to move Farangs around. He was scared when we arrived at the train station, which is silly, because it's a totally acceptable train station and even has a Dunking Donuts, which he was well pleased with.

I unfortunately was not well pleased, because I had not looked hard enough in my guide book, and had gone to the wrong train station and so left Amber sitting on the floor, bidding her farewell and good luck with her upcoming marriage as I ambled outside and bartered another tuk-tuk driver down from 200 Baht to 50 to get me to the bus station instead of the other train station, because my guide said this was better, and I hadn't listened to it earlier, so I thought I'd listen to it now, clever book that it is.

I like how you become best friends with people in an hour and then never see them again for the rest of your life. I have about a million of those friends now.

I arrived at the bus station in the dark, and communicated with several Thais (badly) to figure out which one was mine. Got on the local bus, which is always nice, because it was just me and a bunch of Thai people and set off to Kanchanaburi, which is where I am now. It's cheap here, and the people are friendly and there's a lot to see and do. I'm trying to work out whether it's worth spending two days here, and then only one in Bangkok, or two in Bangkok.

I don't like Bangkok so much. It smells funny, but I suppose I should see all the things you must see, since if you must see a must see then you musn't not see it; otherwise people might say: "Did you see that must see?" and i must then state, "No i missed that must see" and surprised they might say, "so you saw all the seas but you missed the must sees," and sadly i'd say, "Yes." And I'd certainly prefer to say: "I saw some must sees, but saw the seas too, and if I were you, I'd balance the two, between what I see and what I saw in order to see the must sees and to saw the must saws."

I don't know what that last paragraph was about. Bit Dr Seuessy.

Back on the bus

2007-01-08T05:17:00.000-08:00

I'm in Champon waiting for my bus, which will take another hour or so to arrive. It could be worse; I could have been one of the British tourists vomiting over the side of the boat as it cruised through the rocky sea (rocky sea - isn't that contradictory from an elemental point of view?) departing from Ko Tao to the mainland.

As I waited to get on the boat, pale green traveller after pale green traveller departed from it, and I knew the sea must be slick with the stale remains of human vomit. But even though the sea was extremely rough I managed to fall asleep, once I got over the stomach churning drops, because I'm like that on public transport. Maybe that would cure my insomnia back home - I should sleep in my car, which is probably only slightly smaller then my room.

It stopped raining today, of course. About 3 hours before I was meant to get on my boat the rain stopped, and about an hour before I was meant to get on my boat the sun came out and suddenly Ko Tao was baking. That sort of event is the kind of thing that makes me believe in God, because that's exactly the sort of sense of humour I would have if I was God, and certainly I would enjoy messing with mortals, for "we are but flies to the wanton God(s)."

I caught the biggest mosquito ever between my fingers and then crushed the bastard. That mosquito was but a fly to the wanton me.

Yesterday almost felt like a waste except it was quite fun, as it rained all day and I sat in a restaurant/bar on the beach and watched pirated DVDs, occasionally staring into the rain drenched sea. The two Canadian Girls that have (coincidentally) been everywhere that I've been and usually at the same time were there two, and we all got to bitch about the weather. After watching four movies: Pocahontas with Colin Farrel (crap), Weatherman (Crappish and really depressing) Borat (funny, but low) and Supersize Me (gross) we buggered off and had drinks with some English guys that the Canadians knew and I ended up cross-comparing my break up to the break up of one of the Canadians and that went on for a long time. Good bonding.

After that I caught a taxi, because the monsoon had not yet abated. At first they tried to charge me 200 Baht so I gave the guy a dirty look and stormed off into the, well, storm, and then he felt guilty and dropped his price.

When he dropped me off I heard the sounds of music coming from somewhere in the infinite darkness surrounding my isolated homestead. Curious, I could not go to bed, and so I stumbled through the rain trying to find some kind of road that might lead me to the music. Eventually I stumble on a small mud path that goes up a hill into the darkness. This must be where the music is coming from. I close my eyes for ten seconds and count to ten, which is a useful trick my brother Robbie once taught me, that allows one's eyes to adjust to the dark. Then I clambered up the path, which became dangerously slippery stairs, which became a garden where a strange trance party was happening with the most beautiful view of the area.

My favourite bit of the view I shall describe. To my right, the palm trees were black in the dark, and so were the mountains, and so they merged into one beautiful black skyline, no distinction between objects, and silhouetted against the eerie glow of the night sky just above them, as the moon sunk into their blackness.

There were about 15 people there and some of them were French. I arbed about on my own for a bit, but I think people have a fascination with the lone traveller, and it did not take long before I was best friends with all 15 people at that bar, and trying to leave became really difficult, because first off I had to say goodbye to everyone, each individually complaining I was leaving, and usually at least one would convince me to stay for another ten minutes, but finally I made my exit, and returned to the dark path that leads down the hill towards my isolated homestead, but about halfway down the path I encountered two Italians and a Swede who were trying to figure out whether the path they were walking on was a death trap, or in fact a genuine path that lead to the music. I bantered with them about the dangerous nature of the path, and then sent them on their way, but they would have none of that - "No!" exclaimed the Italian leader of the group, "You must have drink with us! And if you are ever in Milan, I will show you good trance party!"

Of course as we returned they started playing House music and the Italians were disappointed, although I don't think the Swede gave a shit either way.

Once home I once again sat on my small wooden porch overlooking the sea and spent a long time absorbing the fact, that even though it was only for that night, this is where I live. It was a really nice thing to absorb.

This morning it was still raining, but as previously explained it cleared up just before my departure.

You win again, God, you fat bastard, but at least you blessed me with a strong stomach so I didn't vomit on those choppy seas.

Monsoon Day 2

2007-01-06T20:51:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning to what I thought was the sound of the crashing sea. Then I thought perhaps it was the sound of a crashing shower. Then I realised the same stupid rain storm is still going on.

This monsoon is playing havoc with my plans. How are you meant to snorkel and laze about on the beach reading your book if the sky keeps on falling? It also makes the walk from my isolated bungalow more of a swim from my isolated bungalow. I think perhaps I should just get some snorkels and wear them while I walk around; it'll be pretty much the same thing.

After blogging yesterday I ran into two British girls that I had met earlier on the trip and spent a couple of hours hanging out with them shooting the breeze and avoiding the rain, which was quite fun, and they invited me to meet them and some of their friends for supper that night. I agreed even though that required a walk back to my place in the dark, a walk back to town in the dark, and a final walk back in the dark later on. I managed to get lost on my way out of town and realised when I started to wade through an ankle deep puddle of water in the middle of a totally dark road that I was walking in the incorrect direction.

I finally re-established my sense of direction and did the walk, survived the insane hill, showered, survived the insane hill, did the walk and returned to town in drizzle, got lost again, re-found my way and finally arrived at the dinner destination maybe 45 minutes late to find no one I knew there. Those bastards. That was a lot of walking for not much point and after this e-mail I'm going to go and see if any of the tourist information places know where to hire an assassin on the island. But it was okay, because I ended up sitting in 'The Cave Bar' which is fashioned after the Flintstones and sits right on the beach, where I played shithead (a card game) with some Israelis and then spoke to some British (or possibly Australian) people about their trip, which was meant to be a month but has been going on for 6 with no real signs of stopping. Then I decided to return home just as the rain came crashing down again.

I contemplated the value of walking versus paying the exorbitant taxi fee (100 Baht) for a very short drive, and decided seeing as I hadn't rented snorkels and flippers it made more sense to take the taxi and so I did.

I sat on my balcony on my tiny little bungalow on the rocks on the beach and watched the rain crash down into the water as tiny boats bobbed in the distance.

Then I went to sleep.

Alone at last

2007-01-06T01:32:00.000-08:00

I am officially the last man standing. Kirsten and Shannon fled the room this morning at five minutes to seven after having overslept by half an hour and subsequently nearly missing their connecting boat to Surathani to catch their connecting plane to Bangkok.

I don't have an alarm clock, except for on my iPod, but I have no way to re-charge it, which means I can't listen to the iPod at all now and save it only for alarm times. That's like having a large tub of ice-cream but only being allowed to use it to keep your fingers cold. Assuming you had an important reason to keep your fingers cold. Or perhaps if you're in Ko Pangang and someone cuts their foot open on a rock and you have to pour your entire bucket of joy over his feet (or hers as it so happened) in order to disinfect it before someone else wrapped it up in a bandage. A bucket of joy is an alcoholic beverage shared between people drunken from a bucket with several straws and not whatever else it might sound like.

Ko Pangang grew on me, sort of like an infectious disease, or perhaps some kind of fungi or lichen. Every night there is a massive party, every morning people leave and more people arrive, and every night there is a massive party. The full moon party was especially massive and I managed to lose everyone I knew within 45 minutes and spent the rest of the evening talking to strangers and dancing and wondering about and looking at the sea until a not very attractive Hungarian girl came and sat next to me and complained for about half an hour about how this island is full of perverts trying to hook up with anyone, and then she put her hand on my leg. At that moment I saw Shannon running past and promptly ran after him, leaving the Hungarian Hypocrit behind. He had also lost everyone, but had found two people we had met in Pai.

Although I now like Ko Pangang I'm still going to bitch about one last thing. In the North when anyone has rubbish, the streets are so clean, that you are willing to spend 20 minutes looking for a bin, so as to maintain the natural beauty of the... well, the city, but in the South which are infested with lice-tourists, in the most beautiful areas imaginable, people don't give even the slightest shit and just dump and throw and leave their rubbish everywhere and anywhere. What's annoying is you start to find yourself doing that as well, because it's what everyone is doing, which just goes to show people are sheep, and act like animals around animals and angels around angels. The question of course, is how do they act like when there are no influences at all? No that's not the question. That's an impossibility, even hermits are influenced by their environments.

And Ko Pangang is obsessed with schnitzel for some reason. Every place sells it and it's actually damn good, and so far is the only thing that's made me venture away from Thai Food.

Anyway the partying was fun, but I am way partied out and last night I spent most of the night just chilling on a quiet beach with a bunch of friends and then this morning hopped on a boat and have gone to Ko Tao.

I am staying right on the sea (not the beach) but on a tiny stilted bungalow that is on the edge of rocks that tumble into the sea. It's insanely beautiful but extremely rustic, but much cheaper then anywhere else. It's also a ten minute walk from any form of civilization, which perhaps doesn't seem so bad, except that it's been monsooning all day. On top of that to get from there to town you have to walk up a hill that makes the driveway at my parents house in durban look tame. For those of you who have not perceived that driveway, it's one step short of needing mountain climbing equipment, or a hoist for a car. So you have to walk up a hill that steep, and then you have to walk down one equally steep, which means coming or going, you're going to run out of breath and possibly asphyxiate.

And tomorrow... I snorkel.

Vince 3000

2007-01-02T05:32:00.000-08:00

Vince is a French guy that we met. Well, on the day that Gabi and Kirsten arrived at Pine Bungalows, our isolated spot in the middle of nowhere on a beautiful beach, they arrived with a strange French fellow called Vince.

He could not speak any English, and it sounded like a chance encounter that Gabi and Kirsten had and they invited him along, in broken English, and he agreed, much to their surprise.

We spent a few days with Vince, oh who laughed so much, even though he never knew what the hell we were talking about and we never knew what the hell he was talking about. He snorkled with us, and ate with us, and drank with us, and boated around islands with us, and never at any point did anyone ever really understand what he was ever on about, and visa versa.

We left Vince on the day we got to Railey Beach (Ton Sai) after a day of island hopping, and he went back on the longtail that we used to get there and I have a beautiful photo of Vince waving, isolated on the long boat as it dissapears into the distance.

We met the Vince 3000 a few days later. Well Shannon did but he became a team buddy and hung out with us until after New Years and he's still hanging with Gabi in Bangkok.

Vince 3000 is the upgrade version, and I suspect he's a robot. First off he can understand English, but looks really similar and laughs really similar to ol' Vince. For the ladies, he's built like something that was built in a place that's designed for building extremely well built bodies and if you were an extremely small person, say a sprite or somesuch, you could scale from his stomach to his head with no difficulty. The girls liked that very much, and I'm just thankful I never really had much desire to compete for Alpha Male spot.

He talked about sex all the time though, and it seems like he's had a lot of it and most of it in Thailand. I think his constructers set him to sex and forgot to shift the dial or something, but his stories are certainly amusing and sometimes I wondered if they were made up. "She was sooo hot," the Vince 3000 would output all the time.

Although he was driving a tuk-tuk thing with all of us in it and drove it into a bush. Gabi thinks his technology had difficultly adjusting to being around a Delta male. For example, quote Gabi: "He's not running. Should I run faster? Should I walk slower? Should I move at the same speed? Should I crash my scooter? Must I be like him? Beep, beep, beep."

But no, as sarcastic as I'm sounding, the Vince 3000 was a really good make of machine, and I'm happy he was part of the gang for a while. He's cool. His real name was Dvir something or other, which is difficult to pronounce, and for the longest time I just called him D. He was a goodie.

Anyway, that's the Vince 3000.

Ko Phangan is alright. It's a much nicer version of Ko Phi Phi, and the sunset today was almost indescribably pink. I still feel like I could be anywhere in the world, even Cape Town, and I think if you're the sort of person who likes Claremont or Camps Bay for the social scene you'll love these sort of islands.

La la la. Out of time.

Mission

2007-01-01T09:00:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year; may 2007 be better then 2006, please.

Not sick anymore, yay; but just done over 12 hours of travelling to get to Ko Pan Gnag in time for the full moon party and arrived to find no accomodation and spent several hours wandering through the streets. We've finally found somewhere. Yay.

Tired.

Sleep now.

Ergh. Just realised that I have to pay 20 Baht even if I don't use the internet for that amount of time. Dum, dee, dum, dum.

How's it going?

Aha?

Cool.

There are so many Israelis in Ko Pang Gnag it's insane. Little Israel. More signs in Hebrew then in Thai. This place is like the backpacker version of Ko Phi Phi, which makes it cooler, but also has a sense of sadness in the dissapearance of original culture, although one might say that this is the culture now and it should be appreciated for that. But then some people say one should appreciate it when people scrawl their names over thousand year old cave paintings, because it is the modern day equivalent, and that in a million years time people will appreciate the name scrawlings as much as the paintings, but really, that's dumb.

Maybe I'm just tired and grumpy. Getting here was hard today, but still nothing to the trials and tribulations of everyday travel in Ethiopia. It's good that that was my first backpacking trip, because I think every other place will seem like a cake piece. My team nearly combusted, but they made it through. Good for them. Oh, and we've lost Gabi and the Vince 3000, which I don't think I described. I'll cover the Vince 3000 in the next update.

Peace out yo.

I'm sick

2006-12-29T23:00:00.000-08:00

Man

I ache all over. I'm not even sure what's wrong. All my joints are sore. Well not all of them, but most of them. Ow. Ow. Shannon was sick for two days, and I'm worried I've gotten whatever he had. That would be perfect for new years. At least I'm not vomiting like him. Ha, ha, he tried to find a circumspect place to vomit and just before he did a small family unit came and walked past right where he was.

I'm going to try and chili it out of my system.

Gabi and I have been intending to have a chili off for days now, but we haven't gotten it together yet, and personally I think she's scared.

We're in Ko Lanta now and I think it's like a family style beach. The beaches aren't as nice as Ko Phi Phi, but at least I don't feel like I'm somewhere in America (or even South Africa) in a Thai Style Amusement Park.

Oof.

Looks like my New Years is going to be pretty tame, but still can't be much more isolated then last year in Lalibela. They don't even celebrate New Years there, and it involved my team and I getting a bit drunk on honey mead and then going to bed.

My team at the moment and my team last year are about as different as can be. Last years team liked nothing better then to mission every moment, tick off all the sites and run to the next place, frequently with me dragging behind out of breath; this team likes nothing better then to sit down and read in nice places.

Different places, differents trips, different people, different times of life. It's all good though.

Ha, ha, a funny story from Ko Phi Phi. So when hanging out with Darryl and his gang we meet these South American girls; one of them a little cutie from Chili. Over the next day and a half, every single guy in the gang, plus a few Israelis, plus some Greek guys all spend hours c-blocking each other to win her over. I, never being much for competition, not much for sport, and not really willing to compete for Alpha Male spot, spent most of the time talking to her friend watching the other men compete with wit, sporting ability, drinking ability, and other sorts of courting rituals that men do when trying to prove their worth to a woman and their status as Alpha Male.

Of course no one thought to ask if she had a boyfriend. Ha, ha. 8 months long distance and she's saving herself for him. She loves him. Aw, cute. Men scatter and head for the hills, and then me, her, her friend, Darryl and the Israeli end up chilling on the beach.

When we get back to our room, the Israeli tells me he thinks he has fallen in love with her and wonders if he should propose, but she's Catholic and his parents would cut his head off being strict about that sort of thing.

Ah, funny old world.

Globalisation is bad, m'kay?

2006-12-28T00:36:00.000-08:00

So I used to think of the essence of globalisation as the sharing of technology and brands; often hand-in-hand. The process is unstoppable because more efficient ways of doing things and making things are going to be attractive to anyone, and so why should we care if the stupid Americans invented everything first.

But in the South of Thailand there are almost no Thai people. They have modern technology, internet cafes everywhere, beautiful resorts and amazing beaches, but no Thai people seem to enjoy them.

Some of Thailand's most beautiful resources have been sold off to the international world, but that means the average Thai person has lost out. I wonder if they care. Or perhaps there are even better secret beaches that no one knows about. But even in the movie The Beach which is all about that secret beach, there were no Thai people on it.

What's with that?

Phi-Phi is nice, but I feel like I'm in a Thai Amusement Park rather then in Thailand, where they've hired some Thai people to run some of the shops for extra authenticity. You almost feel like an idiot trying out the small bits of Thai that you've picked up along the way, because most of the Thai staff just give you a slightly disgruntled look.

Before this I was on Railey Beach, well the beach next to Railey Beach, which is the more rural one. But even on this beach there are almost no Thai. Admitedlly all the staff everywhere are Thai and the Beach Bar Guys clearly run the beach and they're living there because they think it's awesome and don't really give two shits about the tourist. Order a drink; maybe it'll take 2 minutes maybe an hour, whatever don't rush them, they're chilling out. I liked them.

Before that I was at a place called Pine Bungalows which we stumbled across by accident after arriving in Krabi and realising that it was a town and not a beach at all. We were jostled into a pick up truck by a friendly Thai guy who was offering a relatively good deal on a bungalow and we had a night or two to kill before Gabi and Kirsten caught up with us. We assumed that everywhere was sort of close so if it sucked, we could just give them the finger and bugger off. But there was nothing else anywhere. A small village about 15 minutes of walking away, which consisted of two streets, one pharmacy and an internet cafe. There was a big picture of the king strung up along the road.

There were maybe only 40 bungalows, if that, and hardly any people there. It was like being nowhere on a beach.

I woke up that night to find my face and hair covered in ants and used Shannon's doom to kill those little bastards. Despite the sentence structure of the previous sentence, I don't actually mean I sprayed myself in the face with doom. First I brushed them off then looked at my ant infested bed, and said to myself: "Man is King." Then I doomed them.

Stepped outside for some fresh air and came back in and looked at all the tiny, twisted little ant corpses lying over my fresh-ish linen. I felt a bit sad for them, but they crossed the line. They messed with my hair. I tried to go back to sleep and lay there for a bit feeling very sick because all I was doing was breathing in poison so I went for a walk to the beach and sat and looked at the sea by night and it was pretty.

There are a lot of South Africans in Phi-Phi. It's weird. Part of the reason I went away was to get away from South African things, but "if you hide in mouse holes, the cat-claws will find you. There are bears in every cave." That's a misquote from Rumi.

Especially weird was to run into Darryl Bernstein who was my best friend in school and I haven't seen him in years. That was nice, if surreal.

Phi-Phi's okay, but so far not really the highlight. I'm looking forward to getting off this rock tomorrow.

I wouldn't look here for a day or three

2006-12-27T06:05:00.000-08:00

Railey Beach, the one without the resorts, sucked me in for four days. Now I've found myself in Ko Phi Phi which I certainly didn't expect to go to. Oh well, life's tough. It's expensive to internet here, because they like milking the tourist-cows. There are no Thai people here except for those that work here. It's weird. Lots of amusing anecdotes to share, which possibly might allow for further expoundation on the nature of the human psyche, but now's not the time. I'm going to try write up a few blogs in the appropiate order on pen while I do sweet-eff-all tomorrow on the beach and then stick a bunch up in a go, but I wouldn't wait for it.

On Christmas Day

2006-12-24T21:21:00.000-08:00

There is no snow here, just a wide clear bay surrounded by giant craggy cliffs covered is beautiful greens, a small hamlet that consists of beach bars and beach restaraunts and bungalows and the sun is hot and scorchy.

It's too nice here to even contemplate blogging, but maybe I'll get bored later.

Tracy McGivern wins the prize for best research!

2006-12-24T21:18:00.000-08:00

Origins and related words

One theory of the word's origin derives it from farangset, the Thai pronunciation of français, the French word for 'French' or 'Frenchman'. France was one of the first European nations to establish cultural ties with Thailand in the 17th century, so to Thais at that time, 'white man' and 'Frenchman' were synonymous. Others say that in the Ayutthaya period, land was given to the Portuguese merchants to conduct their business at "Baan Farang" (Guava Village).

Another explanation derives the word from the Persian word farangi which refers to foreigners. It comes from the word "frank", meaning Franks or French. The reason for this is the fact that the French were the first European nation that helped the Ghajar Kings modernize the Iranian government, in particular with the establishment of customs, in Persian: gomrok. Long before English, until around the 1960s, French was the foreign language of choice for educated Iranians. The abundance of French words in the Persian language attests to this fact.

By another account the word comes through Arabic ("Afrandj"), and there are quite a few articles about it. One of the most detailed treatments of the subject is by Rashid al-din Fazl Allâh: See Karl Jahn (ed.) Histoire Universelle de Rasid al-Din Fadl Allah Abul=Khair: I. Histoire des Francs (Texte Persan avec traduction et annotations), Leiden, E. J. Brill, 1951. (Source: M. Ashtiany)

Farang is closely related to the Khmer word Barang.

In Tamil, the word that refers to Europeans (most specifically to the British) is parangiar, presumably because Tamil does not have the "F" sound. Many South Asian and Southeast Asian languages, including Malay, also use this word to denote foreigners.

http://www.farangdingdong.com/ - this is the first link that comes up when you google farang.... ha ha ha

so whilst we all know that wikipedia is dubiuos they seem to have sourced part of this explanation from a text in a publication out of leiden which is a dutch uni...

you may have been onto something with the arabic/ amharic link if any of the above is accurate

happy plagarism

xt

Layering memories over memories

2006-12-21T23:27:00.000-08:00

It's funny how the human mind works. You hear a phrase, let's use 'China Town' for example, and all the connotations that you as a unique individual have of China Town come rushing to the fore. Perhaps it's memories of experiences in a China Town somewhere in the world, perhaps it's images from the weird fantastic 80's movie Big Trouble in Little China starring Kurt Russel, or perhaps, as in my case, it's the memory of someone telling you that they were staying in China Town.

So once the mind hears the words, it references them against your memories for connotations, and once those connotations have been found, certain obligatory emotional states are recalled, depending on how you felt about whatever your own personal connotations might be.

The amazing thing about the mind though is that it doesn't mind replacing connotations of concepts, so long as you engage with a physical reality that allows newer, stronger and more immediate connotations to overwhelm the major memory.

A girl I know told me that when she broke up with her boyfriend of three and a half years she couldn't go to any of the places where she had strong memories of that person for nearly six months, but perhaps she would be able to have engaged with those places if she had found ways to create fresh memories. Certainly that's what I began doing.

Nonetheless, if we return to China Town for an example, I will never feel the pang of jealously I felt knowing this person was in China Town, whenever I hear the word China Town, instead I will imagine insanely crowded streets, full of Chinese people, Chinese signs hanging off buildings, shops full of dried animals such as sea-horses, wares of shark tales, disgusting and delicious things cooking on the street, not being able to move because I am stuck in a human traffic jam, red and gold everywhere, stepping off a cramped street full of hawkers and ware-sellers to accidentally discover a series of ancient temples dedicated to Buddhism, Confuciasm and Taoism, beautiful, calm, peaceful, back into the thronging fray, struggle struggle, stopping for a beer somewhere extremely dodgy that still has a small Buddhist shrine, everywhere in this goddamn place has a small Buddhist shrine, some more walking and then back onto the much calmer streets of Bangkok in a car/bike engineering/repairing district. There were surprisngly few stupid farangs there.

Farangs are stupid. On Ko San road all the tuk-tuk's charge 200 Baht to get to the train station. Walk two minutes off the road and you can get it for 50. A word to the wise. Sometimes two minutes can save you 150 Baht. Plus I heard of a stupid farang who drive a scooter into a ditch. Ha, ha, ha, stupid farang.

Farang is Farengi in Amharic (Ethiopia) and Foreigner in English. Would anyone like to research the etymology of that for me? The best research will be posted on this blog, possibly as my own work.

You can now comment

2006-12-21T23:19:00.000-08:00

Several angry readers have informed me that commenting was impossible unless you had a blog of your very own. This has now been rectified.

Pantless in Bangkok

2006-12-20T20:59:00.000-08:00

I forget that in a place like Thailand trying to book a ticket on the morning you want to go somewhere is stupid, because in a place like Thailand you can actually book tickets. That's another problem of cross-comparison.

My first night in Bangkok was cool. Th Ko san is cool. We overshot it and went straight to Chang Mai when we arrived, because it seemed more time efficient, especially as I know I'm leaving from Bangkok and so can wander around there on the day or two before I go.

We spent yesterday hopping on trains and hopping off trains, quickly examining smallish towns and then moving on. We slept through our first intended major stop, and only realised about three hours later, but the train was actually an excellent idea. I sometimes forget that a major part of travelling is the actual, well, travelling from place to place, and that seeing the landscapes shift and change into forms previously unseen by mine own eyes, is a wonderful experience on it's own. It's not all about temples; it can be about mountains or jungles or rice paddies or small strange houses on the sides of roads nestled in the oft awe inspiring lands. I haven't done such a long train trip since going to Habonim Camp; really, it was nice, nice.

At the last minute we decided to stay in Bangkok instead of Ayuthaya, so that's a place I might never see, because we're being fly by the seat of your pants travellers, and really, in a foreign land, no decision is a bad decision. We decided last night that we'd like to go to Krabi, but instead of booking as soon as we decided, we decided we'd book in the morning. Dumb us. Spent the entire morning trying to find a way to get there instead of doing anything, because all the goddamn tickets were sold. We're going overnight on a train and bus combination to Krabi, and had to pay about twice as much as we should have, because we didn't plan far ahead enough.

Therefore, it's completely acceptable to fly by the seat of your pants, as long as you ensure you are wearing a belt, otherwise you might find yourself confused and pantless in Bangkok, instead of belting it towards your destination.

Variety versus specifity

2006-12-20T07:03:00.000-08:00

A question that I wondered about a lot on my last month excursion and which I've found myself wondering about again on this one, is which has more value, speed or specifity?

Is it better to hit a million places and taste a little of each, or to hit a few places and really indulge in each.

A million flavours? A few good meals?

So far I've mimiced my previous travel experience, by heading up North super fast, stopping at a few places, taking lots of long bus and train trips and marvelling at the landscapes. This would surprise everyone I travelled with last time, because I always wanted to move slower, and try and understand each place a little more just by slowly walking thorugh it day by day and drinking coffee at random places and seeing how it lived, instead of seeing it's sights. But that's how I've started this trip.

But now I'm in Bangkok and about to go South. And I think the South will be slow and easy and I'll probably only go to a few places and spend time in each one. Maybe I'll be qualified to answer that question after this trip. But I probably won't be. Maybe there isn't an answer. Certainly they both have value.

I rode a far more shrewd and deadly beast than an elephant

2006-12-20T06:46:00.000-08:00

First off, it's important to know that I'm alright, and second off, it's important that someone prevents my mother from reading this. The reason that I'm beginning this with that, that being I am in fact alright, is because according to the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy stress and anxiety is the primary cause of death for 90 percent of Sapient life in the universe, and just as Douglas Adams warns the reader that the thermonuclear warheads launched at the spaceship Heart of Gold containing both the infinite improbability drive and Ford Prefect, Zaphod Beeblebrox, Arthur Dent, Trilcia McMillan and of course Marvin the Paranoid Android, from the ruins of Ancient Magrathea by a telephone answering service, will result in nothing more then a bruised upper arm and the accidental death of a very surprised whale, so too I begin by warning the reader that nothing has happened to me aside from a slight cut above my right eye, a bruise on my right knee, and a short-lived headache. The reason that it's important to prevent my mother from reading this is because, once again, much like Arthur Dent I never listened to some of the things she told me.

I never rode an elephant; instead I rode a much trickier beast. A deadly scooter. We decided it would be fun to scooter around the area of Pai, as there is almost no traffic, and extremely beautiful mountain passes and scenery, and so terrified as I might have been, we rented a scooter and helmets and set off down the road. The first 8 kms were fine, although I did provide much amusement to the entire town of Pai as I breaked and stopped and speeded and stopped and flung my legs out and wobbled and prayed to god and tried again to make the damn scooter go straight at a reasonable speed. Despite this most humbling of beginnings, I felt within 20 minutes I had the beast under control. Oh, the foolish vain fool that I am. Nothing is under my control; the universe scoffs at any who believe so.

The previous year in Ethiopia was the last time I rode a bicycle, which is not a scooter, as it has no engine, and that time I provided intense amusement to my girfriend at the time (that she-devil) by being extremely bad, nervous and sweaty. When I finally got that bicycle going I peddled like there was no tomorrow down an Ethiopian highway and felt high, as I realised it was working, I wasn't falling off, I was going straight, and then I felt confused as I realised none of my team were anywhere near me.

I returned to my starting point to find that they were all waiting by where we had rented the bikes, and I had sped off in the wrong direction. Most embarassing. We then bicycled, me poorly, to the castle of Haile Sallasie, which looked a lot like a townhouse, but showed magnificent views of Bahar Dar.

I constantly lagged behind, and was an embarrassment to all concerned, and a big part of that reason was because I couldn't figure out how to down gear my mountain bike, and no one would take five minutes out to explain to me how it worked, simply citing: "Oh, it's easy." Thanks for nothing. When I discussed this with Shannon, he said: "Well, it sounds like what you were trying to do was right. It is easy. I bet the gears were broken, and so it wouldn't down gear properlly. Hey you want to rent bikes with gears or without?"

The time before that that I engaged in the world of two wheeled transport, I was in the Drakensbergh at age 12, hit a rock and still show a scar on my hand from where it connected with the ground as I shot over it, grazing my entire body.

On my gearless scooter, however, I soon became fearless, as we scooted through the beautiful scenery, wind in my hair, up hills, around corners, down hills, around more corners through a 'mountain village' which is far more ramshackle and far less romantic than it sounds, to a waterfall, which doesn't neccessarily beat a lot of waterfalls in the Drakensbergh in South Africa. We arbed around there for a bit and returned home, I now a fully confident Scooter rider, wondering why the hell my mom was so against anyone ever getting on one of these beasts.

Then I accidentally drove off a road into a deep ditch, which was fortunate because the bike couldn't crush me. My head bounced against the dirt bank, but fortunately I was wearing a helmet and escaped unscathed. Well relatively.

A slipper had come off and I was half lying in a river with an upside down scooter next to me. Suddenly Thai people everywhere. Moments later Shannon appears. About six of us grab the bike and turn it the right way up and we drag it on to the road. It seems unbroken and still starts. I clamber back down and search for my flip flop which I find. Shannon checks me and notes no injuries except for a think cut above my eye. We work out it was from my sunglasses being rapidly pushed up into my face. Small cut on foot. Sore knee. Otherwise alright.

The most annoying thing was that I was slowing to a stop, and I should have just turned the goddamn controller to the left away from the drop, but instead I slowed and so I didn't even voom off the edge of the road majestically flying through the sky towards my doom, I sort of went putt, putt, putt, almost stopped, ooooooohhhhh noooooooo..... slooow drop, tumble, bang.

I only realised I should have taken some photos of my upside down bike after I got back on the horse and drove it back to town. I don't know if I'll ever ride one again, but I think it's important that I rode another 4km's after my near death experience if only to prove a point to somebody, although God knows who that somebody is. Maybe it was myself.

Despite all of that I really enjoyed my scooter ride. I even enjoyed my accident. It's funny how the things that scare us are the things that are often most enjoyable. And that the things we hold on to are often the cause of one's greatest pain and sadness.

Embrace the fear, and by doing so, release the clamps of the past, I suppose. Or maybe that's naieve. Who knows? Who cares? I'm alive and that's the important bit. Oh, that and always wear a helmet. Crap. Thank god for that helmet. Bounce. Oof. Yeah. Someone prevent my mother from reading this.

Some things shouldn't be cross compared

2006-12-18T06:01:00.000-08:00

It's important not to cross compare and therefore inadvertantly judge some things, such as girlfriends, art forms, speech impediments and the differences in the culture of catching buses. But the human brain was originally designed for cooling the blood and not for thinking, and so, inanely, but frequently, it does attempt to compare incomparable things, which really, is just a silly thing to do.

Cross comparing catching buses in Ethiopia, which is where I was a year ago to this day, to catching buses in Thailand, which is where I am now today, is comparable to cross comparing consuming beef from a cow to consuming a crunchy apple from a tree. Correct, they're both food, but that's where the comparison ends. Yet, while I sat on the bus, which cruised up a mountain and showed me spectacular jungle views... well... I kept on hating the bus because it wasn't an Ethiopian bus, and then hating those Ethiopian buses because they weren't this one. I wanted there to be an ideal bus, the perfect bus, the bus I wanted most of all... But which bus is it?

In Ethiopia one needs to be at the bus station before the sun rises, at 6 in the morning, where one waits in a seething mass of black faces, wrapped in "gabi's" against the cold, and the gate to the large 'terminal' opens, where a sandy, dirty parking lot is full with buses, and the hundreds, nay thousands, nay millions of people surge forward pushing, yelling and fighting to get to their buses, as various bus drivers yell and scream the name of their destinations, but the noise is so overwhelming that it's impossible to hear what they're yelling, and you bump and push and struggle as if you're lost in the rapids of a river, until almost by fortuitous chance you encounter someone who happens to be yelling your destination and you send half your party to fight for seats, and the other half struggles through the crowd getting on to the bus to behind the bus, where you have to put your luggage on the top yourself or else be charged extra. On the bus ride the windows are all closed and it swelters. If you open one, all the Ethiopians look confused, and eventually someone will lean over and close it.

In Thailand you walk into the paved bus terminal, which has signs, where you can book tickets, and where uniformed officials ask in English in a worried manner if you know where to get tickets, and if you have tickets, if you know where your bus is departing from, and if you do, if you're having a good time. There are multiple buses here, and you can purchase tickets beforehand. When the bus arrives you sit in your official seat and the bus driver personally puts your luggage in the luggage space underneath the bus. We went on the non-airconditioned bus, which was over 100 Bhat cheaper, but not only were all the windows open, but so were the doors. It was cool in those mountains, and I can't imagine the virtue of air-conditioning at such an altitude.

The experience in Ethiopia was amazing, insane, and beautiful; the experience here was tame, easy, and beautiful. Eating beef involves the death of a cow, the cutting of meat, the cooking of meat, the eating of meet. Eating an apple involves plucking one off a tree. They're both food, but so fundamentally different, and obviously I'm allowed to enjoy both, just in different ways.

Pai is nice. Tiny. Huts. Bars. Westerners. Some Thai people. Just met some British people and got a bit drunk with them and then ate some Spicy Chicken Soup, Tom Kai Gun, I think, but perhaps I'm wrong.

Tomorrow I might ride on an elephant.

Nookie is good, but a foot massage is best

2006-12-17T07:27:00.000-08:00

I was this close to proposing. Really I was. I didn't care that she was fat and old and her elbow was the size of my head. It's not about what's on the outside after all, because frequently the outside is a disguise, a lie even, no matter how shaggable. That fat old Thai lady knew how to massage a foot like no one's business, and as I chilled out on a comfy chair on that street corner, with a pillow behind my head whilst watching the bustling Sunday street market in Chang Mai, I realised that you shouldn't judge a person on what they look like, nor on if they can speak English, nor on a romantically charged shared history full of turbulence and ups and downs, nor on the size of their elbows, because what truly matters in a person is how well they can massage your feet. This is a lesson we would all do well to remember.

Also it's important to try new things. Like deep fried cockroaches, which don't taste like chicken, but instead taste like the shell of a prawn, or frog and chili stir fry, which does taste like chicken stirfried with chili, except with more bones. I never pictured frogs to have bones, but I suppose if they didn't they'd be worms or possibly snakes or else very unstable life forms that wobble a lot and can't hop.

Although I have a suspicion we're staying in the 'uncool' area of Chang Mai, and not by the river where I suspect the party is. No all we got is terribly old and impressive temples full of giant gold Buddhas who are stern looking and have gone on diet, and don't have fat bellies and certainly aren't laughing, but look a little like a slightly stoned assassin, vaugely out of it, fully confident, and potentially dangerous with a sword.

So far Thailand's alright.