* a quick note before the boss catches me... I know the office is dying to hear*
It's a glorious day when you experience your very first visitors in your new home- especially when your new home is a developing country halfway around the world. My Father (Pops) and Step-Mother (Barb) staggered through the sliding glass doors of the domestic arrivals only an hour or so later than expected. For Thailand, that's pretty good.
Unfortunately, my "Wild Harley Hog motorcycle Fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants" parents have had a rough start. They haven't actually slept a good nights sleep since getting on the 17 hour plane due to "those damn airplane seats" and a broken Sleep Apnea machine. The plane, tolerable. The machine, a major pain in the ass and worry for us all (more so for Barb because she can't sleep next to the logger sawing off cords of wood whose saw keeps getting stuck).
To cheer them both up I thought it would be nice to hop on the motorbikes and cruise to the lookout point near our house. They're bikers, right? They can handle my little 100 Honda Wave no prob...Yeah. Aside from popping wheelies, almost dropping Barb on her butt halfway up the mountain and shifting the wrong way, Pops has received what we here in Phuket like to call The Phuket Tattoo, a nice tailpipe burn along the calf. Only the coolest hard core bikers have it, (ahem, yeah).
It's been a rough start with worrying about how to fix the machine in Thailand and figuring out transportation, but today we hit a high point. The machine (Thank you Bangkok-Phuket Hospital) is running. Thank God. The worry and stress is over.
Now we just hop a boat to Koh Phi Phi in the morning and lounge on the beach. The salt water should be good for the leaking wound adorning Pops' leg. And before we know it, that'll be fine too!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Friday, January 19, 2007
Son of a b$%^h
Sometimes I just want to fall to my knees on the dingy ground and scream, "Whhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, Buddha! Whhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyy!"
I want to spit on the ground and curse this country. Kick the flimsy wheel of my rental bike and pull at my hair.
In our neighborhood we have a pleasant little park where Erik and I go running to try to keep off the rice pounds that like to pile up around the ol' tum-tum. We've been coming sporadically for about 4 weeks now. It really gives you a sense of community and belonging. You see the same faces and smile. You start conversations in broken Thai-lish (Thai-English) as you jog past you puff out a hello or sawasdee and continue on. It's quite lovely...until today.
I went running by myself today because Erik works late. I put on my running shoes, the blue bullets, and hopped on my motorbike to run some laps. I glanced at the time displayed on my phone and locked it away in my seat. Today I'll run five laps in 20 mins, I thought.
I started my laps, the iPod blaring shuffled songs in my ear. A man I usually see stops and we exchange small talk: I am good thank you. As I round the last lap, my face matching the red of my shirt, I stagger to my bike to check the time. Oh, one message. I'll check it later. Placing the phone back into the seat of my bike and locking it, I start a cool down lap.
Eventually I return to my bike. I wonder if Erik is home yet? I use my keys to unlock my bike and pull up the seat- nothing. Did I take it with me? Did I put it on a bench? I'm running through situations that could have occurred but I know damn well that they didn't. I'm spinning in circles looking at everyone that has come since I started on my laps. I was the first person here and now about 50 or so people are walking, hacky-sacking with the traditional Thai woven ball, using the fitness park or talking with friends. I'm helpless and alone. Unsure and skeptical. Hurt and humiliated. Is someone watching me and laughing? Are they thinking "stupid farang." Am I an idiot. Did I not lock my bike? No, I absolutely locked my bike. I punched it down. Oh, God not again. Not another phone!
I retrace my steps searching the ground. Walking back to my bike, I ask the motor-taxi driver sitting on a stump in my poor Thai-lish if he saw anyone at my bike. He understands me and tells me no. I wai and thank him, tears welling in my eyes. Am I upset? Damn right. Am I mad? More like a combination of disgraced and pissed off.
He jumps up to follow me, pointing at some men playing hacky. He approaches and asks them. No luck. Soon the whole park is involved. People I usually wave, nod or wai to are now crowded around my bike as I try to hold back tears and explain the situation. They speak to me in Thai with large hand movements. I only catch tibits of information, the few words I know linking together to get the jist of the paragraph they just said to me. Hold it together, save face. Save face, damn it. I can't cry, they would lose respect. You have to save face in Thailand or they won't bother with you. I take deep breaths and nod as I try to catch foreign words in the air as they fly past me.
They tell me to go to the Police Station. "Chun Bpai. Bpai mai?" I ask. ("Go? I should go?"). I do what they tell me because they are trying to help and I don't want them to think I am ungrateful. I go to the Police Station down the road, which is actually only an office. The motorbike taxi man comes with me, assisting in Thai. They can't help. I need to go to the actual station in town. I know that nothing is going to happen. I make a report, it gets filed. That's that. This is Thailand. I know well enough by now that a missing phone is dog shit on their shoes.
So here I am. Telling you all. Venting my frustration. It's not the actual phone, although the financial damage is a major pain in the ass. It's the fact that I got robbed, right in my own cozy little park. Why me? What did I do? My karma should be good. I'm a good person, damn it. It hurts. I feel cheated and utterly disappointed in the whole situation. My phone. I just got that bloody thing! I have to change my number...again. Someone went into my bike and stole my phone. It's a naked and dirty feeling. Ashamed at my trusting. Ashamed that I was dooped again. I feel stupid and angry and all kinds off dark colors and I don't want that.
I know it's just a phone, that not everyone in Thailand stole it. I can't help but do a sideways glance now. It sure opens your eyes to the dirt that lies under the rug.
I want to spit on the ground and curse this country. Kick the flimsy wheel of my rental bike and pull at my hair.
In our neighborhood we have a pleasant little park where Erik and I go running to try to keep off the rice pounds that like to pile up around the ol' tum-tum. We've been coming sporadically for about 4 weeks now. It really gives you a sense of community and belonging. You see the same faces and smile. You start conversations in broken Thai-lish (Thai-English) as you jog past you puff out a hello or sawasdee and continue on. It's quite lovely...until today.
I went running by myself today because Erik works late. I put on my running shoes, the blue bullets, and hopped on my motorbike to run some laps. I glanced at the time displayed on my phone and locked it away in my seat. Today I'll run five laps in 20 mins, I thought.
I started my laps, the iPod blaring shuffled songs in my ear. A man I usually see stops and we exchange small talk: I am good thank you. As I round the last lap, my face matching the red of my shirt, I stagger to my bike to check the time. Oh, one message. I'll check it later. Placing the phone back into the seat of my bike and locking it, I start a cool down lap.
Eventually I return to my bike. I wonder if Erik is home yet? I use my keys to unlock my bike and pull up the seat- nothing. Did I take it with me? Did I put it on a bench? I'm running through situations that could have occurred but I know damn well that they didn't. I'm spinning in circles looking at everyone that has come since I started on my laps. I was the first person here and now about 50 or so people are walking, hacky-sacking with the traditional Thai woven ball, using the fitness park or talking with friends. I'm helpless and alone. Unsure and skeptical. Hurt and humiliated. Is someone watching me and laughing? Are they thinking "stupid farang." Am I an idiot. Did I not lock my bike? No, I absolutely locked my bike. I punched it down. Oh, God not again. Not another phone!
I retrace my steps searching the ground. Walking back to my bike, I ask the motor-taxi driver sitting on a stump in my poor Thai-lish if he saw anyone at my bike. He understands me and tells me no. I wai and thank him, tears welling in my eyes. Am I upset? Damn right. Am I mad? More like a combination of disgraced and pissed off.
He jumps up to follow me, pointing at some men playing hacky. He approaches and asks them. No luck. Soon the whole park is involved. People I usually wave, nod or wai to are now crowded around my bike as I try to hold back tears and explain the situation. They speak to me in Thai with large hand movements. I only catch tibits of information, the few words I know linking together to get the jist of the paragraph they just said to me. Hold it together, save face. Save face, damn it. I can't cry, they would lose respect. You have to save face in Thailand or they won't bother with you. I take deep breaths and nod as I try to catch foreign words in the air as they fly past me.
They tell me to go to the Police Station. "Chun Bpai. Bpai mai?" I ask. ("Go? I should go?"). I do what they tell me because they are trying to help and I don't want them to think I am ungrateful. I go to the Police Station down the road, which is actually only an office. The motorbike taxi man comes with me, assisting in Thai. They can't help. I need to go to the actual station in town. I know that nothing is going to happen. I make a report, it gets filed. That's that. This is Thailand. I know well enough by now that a missing phone is dog shit on their shoes.
So here I am. Telling you all. Venting my frustration. It's not the actual phone, although the financial damage is a major pain in the ass. It's the fact that I got robbed, right in my own cozy little park. Why me? What did I do? My karma should be good. I'm a good person, damn it. It hurts. I feel cheated and utterly disappointed in the whole situation. My phone. I just got that bloody thing! I have to change my number...again. Someone went into my bike and stole my phone. It's a naked and dirty feeling. Ashamed at my trusting. Ashamed that I was dooped again. I feel stupid and angry and all kinds off dark colors and I don't want that.
I know it's just a phone, that not everyone in Thailand stole it. I can't help but do a sideways glance now. It sure opens your eyes to the dirt that lies under the rug.
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