The big market in Bangkok is Chatachuk market. I spent 3 hours wandering around and still only managed to see areas 20-25, and then incompletely. I was told before hand to buy something if I liked it, as I wouldn’t be able to find my way back. By my stubborn self, I felt no need to follow the advice.
The markets made up of 1000’s of stalls gathered under tin rooves, with only paths one and a half-persons wide forming rows. There’s colourful silks, dark woods and aromatic incense piled high and stacked elegantly along each avenue. There’s junk, to be sure, but there’s some very beautiful things as well.
I picked up a picture that would’ve looked good on my wall, but put it down again to go buy some water. Just twenty metres away I purchased my drink, and turned around to find that all the stands and shifted and where the gallery stand had been was now a silk scarf stall.
After the market I strolled around the Ari district of Bangkok. Down one quiet Soi I spied a bar named the “Ari-Ba-Bar” – to celebrate the first pun in the history of Thailand I had to have a drink. From what I’ve noticed, Thai’s don’t really do verbal gags. I went to a movie the other week, and while I laughed at the verbal jokes the Thai’s laughed whenever a character fell over.
27 November 2005
25 November 2005
SUCCESS
Twice a week at the campus I’m staying on they have a night market. Well, that might be overselling it. There’s a strip of food stalls, and a strip of junk for sale that Thai students seem to want to purchase.
For the first time I managed to by dinner at the market entirely in Thai. Rudimentary as it may have been, I was able to actually ask about what I was purchasing rather than just pointing, and found out what it cost instead of just handing over a bill that would cover it. It may the Thai-BBQ chicken taste extra special.
On the chicken front, there are a number of people who’ve stopped eating chicken because of bird flu. One night at the campus restaurant the non-chicken options all sold out. If the food’s cooked it’s fine, the rest of Asia’s eating chicken and it’s only those working with birds that have died, and the pandemic fear comes human-to-human transmission. There’s just no rationality to fear sometimes.
For the first time I managed to by dinner at the market entirely in Thai. Rudimentary as it may have been, I was able to actually ask about what I was purchasing rather than just pointing, and found out what it cost instead of just handing over a bill that would cover it. It may the Thai-BBQ chicken taste extra special.
On the chicken front, there are a number of people who’ve stopped eating chicken because of bird flu. One night at the campus restaurant the non-chicken options all sold out. If the food’s cooked it’s fine, the rest of Asia’s eating chicken and it’s only those working with birds that have died, and the pandemic fear comes human-to-human transmission. There’s just no rationality to fear sometimes.
24 November 2005
THAI MUSIC IS NOISE POLLUTION
When I came home from work wafting, blaring, emanating from over the river was a type of Thai music I hadn’t heard before. Traditional sounds instrumentation played modern sounding pieces. It went on until 11 O’clock before finishing up, just in time for me to hit the sack.
I was revisited at 6.30 by the swinging-of-a-cat vocals and violins. After two tracks what sounded like a Thai political speech followed, and then more vocals and violins.
I’ve never got ready quicker for work.
On the bus to Pattaya the driver put on a DVD of a Thai performer doing covers of western songs, or more particularly a karaoke show. There were thousands of Thai’s in the audience screaming away. For the most part it was terrible, and the songs were appauling – Village People, Hot Chocolate, KC & The Sunshine Bollocks. Then out of nowhere is a version of “Bad Time” by The Jayhawks – a band I really like. I have no idea how it got there, as I doubt there’s a copy of the album in the country that I don’t own. The song’s so good it even made this guy seem momentarily OK.
On a note that’s only related because it’s me complaining, the currency of Thailand’s the Baht (1 Baht = 3 Aust cents), made up of 100 Satangs. Rarely prices are in Satangs, but not often. When they do, prices and change are then rounded to the nearest Baht. For the first time I received Satang in my change today. These coins can’t actually buy anything. They are the ultimate poo change.
I was revisited at 6.30 by the swinging-of-a-cat vocals and violins. After two tracks what sounded like a Thai political speech followed, and then more vocals and violins.
I’ve never got ready quicker for work.
On the bus to Pattaya the driver put on a DVD of a Thai performer doing covers of western songs, or more particularly a karaoke show. There were thousands of Thai’s in the audience screaming away. For the most part it was terrible, and the songs were appauling – Village People, Hot Chocolate, KC & The Sunshine Bollocks. Then out of nowhere is a version of “Bad Time” by The Jayhawks – a band I really like. I have no idea how it got there, as I doubt there’s a copy of the album in the country that I don’t own. The song’s so good it even made this guy seem momentarily OK.
On a note that’s only related because it’s me complaining, the currency of Thailand’s the Baht (1 Baht = 3 Aust cents), made up of 100 Satangs. Rarely prices are in Satangs, but not often. When they do, prices and change are then rounded to the nearest Baht. For the first time I received Satang in my change today. These coins can’t actually buy anything. They are the ultimate poo change.
19 November 2005
“GOOD GUYS GO TO HEAVEN…
…BAD GUYS GO TO PATTAYA” read the T-Shirt.
It could read “Good guys may go to heaven, but Fat, Old, European tourists definitely go to Pattaya to fuck young Thai prostitutes” and be accurate. Both parties driven by desperation.
The week I spent here for work has been enough for me, and I’ll avoid the popular tourist area as much as possible in future.
Incidentally, there were lots of Russians staying at the hotel and I’ve learnt from their pink faces that they’re just as hopeless at handling the sun as the British.
It could read “Good guys may go to heaven, but Fat, Old, European tourists definitely go to Pattaya to fuck young Thai prostitutes” and be accurate. Both parties driven by desperation.
The week I spent here for work has been enough for me, and I’ll avoid the popular tourist area as much as possible in future.
Incidentally, there were lots of Russians staying at the hotel and I’ve learnt from their pink faces that they’re just as hopeless at handling the sun as the British.
13 November 2005
WHY DO PEOPLE INVITE DICKHEADS TO PARTIES?
I headed to a friends party in Bangkok tonight. Things went pretty well, though the music wasn’t great, and people were perhaps a bit too shmick looking. It was mostly filled with young Australians who ‘work for an NGO’, as they’re all happy to tell you. I guess not all art students end up unemployed, some volunteer.
One guy really, really got on my nerves. Besides taking the whole thing too seriously, he only wanted to talk about himself, what he was doing, and why that was important. On two occasions I managed to make successful exits from the conversation (to replace a quickly finished drink, and an unneeded bathroom visit) only for him to track me down and start up again later.
He finally went too far when he told me that he believed that it was inappropriate for those being paid by the Australian Government to be criticising their policies. I proffered that being able to think, debate and articulate an understanding of the world and its outcomes was actually desireable and showed Australia in a better light than mindless zombies do. That idea flew over his head and wedged itself in the wall behind him.
One guy really, really got on my nerves. Besides taking the whole thing too seriously, he only wanted to talk about himself, what he was doing, and why that was important. On two occasions I managed to make successful exits from the conversation (to replace a quickly finished drink, and an unneeded bathroom visit) only for him to track me down and start up again later.
He finally went too far when he told me that he believed that it was inappropriate for those being paid by the Australian Government to be criticising their policies. I proffered that being able to think, debate and articulate an understanding of the world and its outcomes was actually desireable and showed Australia in a better light than mindless zombies do. That idea flew over his head and wedged itself in the wall behind him.
12 November 2005
JUST A LITTE OFF THE TOP
I ventured my first haircut in Thailand today. After managing to first communicate that I wanted a haircut using hand signals, I sat in the chair.
“Choose” said the hairdresser, putting a magazine full of pictures of Thai-Student haircuts in front of me. After suppressing the momentary desire to go for a weird-orange coloured do with associated spikes defying gravity, I began to panic and had to suppress the desire to run.
“Just a little off. 1 cm. (Hold up fingers, a small gap between thumb & forefinger). 1cm. 1CM!” Flicking quickly through the magazine I found something that nearly approximated my haircut in a rough way, but that at least avoided strange colours and different length clumps sticking straight out from the back of my head.
Things seemed to have gone well when she got the hairdryer out to dry my hair off and put me on my way. She began to dry and comb in a way I wouldn’t normally have done it (ie at all), but I figured I’d just shower and redo it after anyway. After 10 mins of drying and combing I suddenly realised what was going on. She was straightening my hair!
I had desired straight hair previously, with its associated option of actually having a hairstyle, but after seeing the giant hair helmet I’d been given that desire quickly passed. I don’t know how you straight haired freaks do it.
There will be NO picture posted of my haircut.
“Choose” said the hairdresser, putting a magazine full of pictures of Thai-Student haircuts in front of me. After suppressing the momentary desire to go for a weird-orange coloured do with associated spikes defying gravity, I began to panic and had to suppress the desire to run.
“Just a little off. 1 cm. (Hold up fingers, a small gap between thumb & forefinger). 1cm. 1CM!” Flicking quickly through the magazine I found something that nearly approximated my haircut in a rough way, but that at least avoided strange colours and different length clumps sticking straight out from the back of my head.
Things seemed to have gone well when she got the hairdryer out to dry my hair off and put me on my way. She began to dry and comb in a way I wouldn’t normally have done it (ie at all), but I figured I’d just shower and redo it after anyway. After 10 mins of drying and combing I suddenly realised what was going on. She was straightening my hair!
I had desired straight hair previously, with its associated option of actually having a hairstyle, but after seeing the giant hair helmet I’d been given that desire quickly passed. I don’t know how you straight haired freaks do it.
There will be NO picture posted of my haircut.
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