Bangkok Dangerous: January 2, 2010

One moment I was on solid ground, and the next I was flying through the air, legs splayed. Below me was open water -- six feet across and getting wider -- and not just any water, but oil-slicked, litter-strewn, noxiously-bubbling Bangkok canal water. In a moment of mid-flight regret I pictured myself being helped back up to the quay with greasy water dripping off of me and hundreds of onlookers laughing and fumbling for their cameras. The thought passed quickly -- I had more pressing concerns.
I wasn't even in a hurry. I might have saved myself ten or fifteen minutes. But when I came down to the dock and saw the boat pulling away, it triggered in me my inner action hero. I bounded down the stairs, picked up speed in a few big strides, then launched myself...

Look Mom, I'm All Grown Up Now!

Monday through Friday I'm up by seven, by far the earliest I've had to wake up since high school. I shower, put on slacks, dress shoes and a button-down -- yellow on Mondays, for the Thai King, Tuesday, pink, for the Princess, and Wednesday, baby blue, for the queen -- optional in our school, but why not? and it seems to tickle the Thai teachers. Thursday and Friday I wing it. My roommate and coworker, Jamie, and I are the first ones in the office, and we get right to work on lesson plans, or grading, before morning assembly begins. One by one, our colleagues come in, and we wai to each of them (hands pressed together in a lotus -- at a different level in front of the face, depending on the age and position of the person -- and a small bow).
This is my life, during the week anyway. I'm living in Trat, Thailand, capital city of the province by the same name, with the Gulf of Thailand to the south, and Cambodia 40 km west. It wasn't long ago I was unemployed, drinking too much bad bourbon and shit beer, and counting down the days until my arrival in Asia. I knew little about Thailand, and less about teaching. A month later (plus the half day earlier that the sun rises), I'm here. Oh what a difference a few weeks can make.

Trat, as in "too hot to..."

Some people, I'm convinced, find themselves in Trat because they didn't spring for the up-to-date guidebook. A few years ago, to get to the island of Koh Chang, or to cross into Cambodia, a traveler had to pass through Trat. Now, buses run direct from Bangkok to the ferry docks and the border crossing. The newest Lonely Planet, or Frommers, or Fodors, or whatever travel guide you have, will tell you as much. They do recommend spending a night in Trat --time permiting --but they let you know that there is not much to do.
I suppose that the guidebooks, in their infinite wisdom, are right; there isn't much to do here. Trat is a quiet town, and not very big. And yet, I never find myself lacking for anything to do. If you can pull yourself out of, not the traveler's mentality, but of the guidebook mentality, you will find plenty to see and do in Trat. The reward of stumbling upon a surprising destination is immeasurably greater than arriving to find it just as your guidebook promised.

Ban Phe: The Daily Grind. October 4- October 23, 2009

Choking down a cup of instant coffee in the morning may be the hardest part of your day, and it is made easier by the view. Across the road, through a few trees and over the sand, the Gulf of Thailand gleams in whichever outlandishly beautiful shade of blue or green that the waves and morning light have conspired to create today. An inexpensive, and perfectly seasoned crab omelet helps to rid your mouth of the bitter Nescafe taste.
You have to pull your eyes from the view -- somewhat -- for the morning commute. Already in second gear as you turn out of the driveway onto the coast road, you feel the wind in your face. You shift to third and the wind gets stronger as the needle creeps past 30, 40, 50... and you let the throttle go and kick it into fourth. As you get up past 70, the trees and the roadside shops and stalls fly by in a blur, as does the road beneath you. The only constant now is the shimmering sea to your left and the sky overhead.
As the bridge approaches, you slow down. Ahead on the left a grove of palm trees sways in the sea breeze and as you reach it, you come to the turn. You take one final look at the sea, now through the fronds of the coconut trees, before leaning into the right turn. You come out of the turn and you're now heading inland. The roadside is lined with trees that explode with golden blossoms, and behind these, verdant grassland stretches out, dotted by sparse trees and the occasional wetland.

Taipei: September 29-October 3, 2009

Love Freedem
Believe yourself
And all the way you are
And to be an earn Lever
-T-shirt on a girl in the Taipei MTR

Taipei is a most civilized city. I mean that not in a “look-dear-the-little-Chinamen-are-progressing” kind of way, but rather in a “we-need-to-dispatch-a-dozen-fact-finding-missions-to-find-out-what-they-are-doing-how-they-are-doing-it-and-why-we-are-not” kind of way. The architecture is innovative, the streets clean, the people friendly, and the transportation efficient.

Actually, efficient only begins to tell the story. It’s hard to imagine a much better Metro system than Taipei's. Trains run often and on time. Fares are paid with touchless scans. Announcements are made in Mandarin, Taiwanese, Hakka and English. There is air-conditioning – on the trains of course – but also in the stations, which have bathrooms in them as well. The restrooms are clean, and they have live plants in them, and friendly signs over the urinals beckon the user to “come closer please:” because there is “automatic flushing when you draw near.” And amusing but not-so-politically correct signs offer "waiting zones for female passengers at night."