For the past week, my only contact with English has been VH1 Russia. On this channel, they show videos from the past 30 years. Mostly American or British and occasionally Russian and other countries. There are no VJs. Only videos and the occasional station identification. Its pretty awesome.
I just saw the worst song and video, well not ever I’m sure. But awful. Nicole Sherzinger? I think she’s in one of those girl groups, with Will.I.am, who I used to have respect for. The song is called Baby Love. And she repeats over and over, “You are my baby love, my baby love, baby love” There is no comma, as in “You are my baby, love” and neither is one inferred. “Baby love” is some terrible term of endearment. The only upside to having to sit through that video is it was immediately followed by Wham!’s “Careless Whisper” more commonly known as Never Gonna Dance Again. Gotta love VH1 Russia. Also I would like to take this time to point out that Chris Isaak is an overpaid porno freak. And its amazing how clear a voice the lead for the Killers has, considering he seems to vibrate when he performs. Unfortunately, he went through a phase where he liked to dress as Colonel Sanders. And when the hell did Colonel come about as a word? Clearly it says “Kolunel”. Kernel spells colonel, maybe Kernul if you want to differentiate from corn. Someone look into this and report back. Nickelback’s video for Rockstar. I resent all the people I respect that appear in this video. I resent that the regular people in this video look like asshats. I resent that the whole video looks like it was made by some 12 year old for a school project. I resent that Zach Braff used the same idea for Jay Clifford’s music video. It goes without saying that I resent the existence of Nickelback. Well it could go without saying, but I’ve said it one hundred times and will continue to say it. Maybe I’ll start a protest group in Russia. The Metallica video for Whisky in the Jar. Anyone familiar? Uh, its insane. The band is playing in a house. The only people in the house are scantily clad women performing acts of drunken debauchery. I’m not sure what the point is, if there is one. Perhaps its just what they think a slumber party is. Although on further inspection, I think its what they wish a slumber party was. Now I realize that they are not in the same house. Or they are, but not at the same time? An alternate reality perhaps? Do you see what happens when my only English outlet is my own head and old music videos?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A page of complaining, it was bound to happen
On a good day, I’m sarcastic. On a bad day, I just want to whinge. Guess what today is?
I looked for shoes yesterday, only to find that apparently my feet are too big. I nearly cried in a shoe store. I had finally found shoes I liked at a reasonable price, and sat down to try some on, and none fit. I found a jacket I love. Its some sort of brown furry stuff, but the neck looks like a dead fox, a dead lime green fox. All fake I’m sure PETAphiles. It costs 300 dollars. I want it. Real bad.
In class today I hit a wall. It started when a new girl joined. She seems to know more than me. I’m not threatened by her abilities, but the teacher seems to speak at the level of the best student. So now I don’t understand a lot of what she says, which makes my brain bleed. It just shuts off. I get frustrated, and if I try to get past it and force myself to listen, I’m already behind on whatever she’s discussing. And the rest of the day is shot, and I’m in a fucking bad mood. I probably should have just left class, but I stuck around. This is what I stuck around for—Saying “I take the 141st bus. I take the 23rd trolley, I take the 4th bus, I take the 29th bus, etc. etc. etc.” The lesson was on ordinal numbers. Is that the right word? I’m starting to lose my English. For an hour we discussed this shit. Not only is it mundane information, its fucking difficult. A double whammy when you’ve already hit a wall.
My adviser took my passport on Monday to register me with the state, something all students, and maybe visitors to Russia, have to do. I’m on the books now. No doubt, I’ll eventually be deported as a spy. She said she’d have it back Wednesday. I went Wednesday, she did not have it. She said Thursday. I went today, she says Friday. Russia. I need my passport to take it to the embassy to get some more pages added. As of now, I can’t leave Russia because my passport is full. Well, honestly I can’t leave Russia for three months. Not exactly sure what that regulation is about. Perhaps its to make sure you really want to be here. If you can stick it out for 3 months, we’ll let you stay longer.
I don’t have class on Fridays, so always three day weekends. But zero holidays. So I can go nuts taking weekend trips, but I can’t go very far. Which makes me terribly angry. Out the window all plans to visit the far reaches of this alien country. Out the window all plans to visit Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and other stans that don’t even exist yet. Basically out the window all plans to go anywhere but down the street and maybe to Moscow, which is no easy feat. It’s a night train just to spend 2 maybe 3 days.
My host lady (not host mother, she’s not much older than me) shuffles her feet. ALWAYS. Sometimes I do, but I think I do it with a purpose. She does it all the time, and I CAN’T STAND IT. On a similar note, and to add a small touch of light to this whole grey day-the floors are wood, or at least fake wood, i.e. I can Risky Business all over the apartment.
I realize this lady just wants to make sure she does what she’s supposed to, and also keep me from moving out, but I’m tired of every time I see her, she asks me if I want to eat. Stuffing me with food does not make up for the fact that you gave my room away to your drunk irritable friend and I’m holed up in the living room. It also does not make up for the fact that you are naked half the time. I’m tired of walking into the kitchen to find her sitting at the table naked. She’ll quickly reach for a towel, but hey, how about you just don’t sit at the table naked? How about you don’t come to the fake door on “my” room with your boobs hanging out? Her 13 year old daughter is cute, but clearly allowed to do what she wants. We were going to sit in the kitchen and have champagne last night, but she refused to quit reading her book on her computer, which incidentally, all she reads is fantasy. Read all you want, no hot vampire is going to sweep down on a dragon and turn you into a swan.
Update: I think my host lady is trying to hit on me. I’m not going to go into the details, but suffice it to say, I’m pretty sure she is making up reasons to feel me up. In an effort to explain that she’s not my type, I showed her every picture of guys I have in my computer. Whether I ever dated them or not, I told her they were my boyfriend. Unfortunately, pictures that also came up were joke pictures of me and girl friends. So my plan backfired horribly and I think I actually made the situation worse. Oddly enough, with all this complaining, I’m nowhere near hitting rock bottom with my situation. Just a bad day really. And I just poured a perfect glass of Stella, although you should know, I hate Stella, but its cheap.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
First broadcast from Russia
sidebar-- Ha, I haven't even started, and here's a sidebar. I'm in limbo about the use of the word "pants". Whenever I go to use it, I cringe. I've travelled with enough brits now to picture underwear when I hear/use the word pants. But I can't bring myself to use the word "trousers"
Anyway, I'm in Russia.
Sidebar 2--I'm ever aware of my shoes. I'm in a place where everyone is wearing black shoes. Most women I see in fancy black boots with heels and men in black european leathers. I have my North Face hiking boots. Tan and orange. Its a point of annoyance that I must remedy.
Lets go back to my arrival. I arrived in Russia via the Moscow airport. Went through immigration and flew to St. Petersburg. Landing at both airportw was the same experience. Snow everywhere, barely brushed off the tarmac. You disembark the plane. On one side-airport. The other side--a forest of thin white birch trees. The largest, no more than 3 inches in diameter. Its an eerie feeling arriving in a capital city- the capital of the largest country in the world- and you feel like you've landed in the quaintest village. Everything is quiet; grey. You know that somewhere out there is a city, but at this moment, its hard to believe.
On my school:
The Center for Russian Language and Culture is housed in the Smolny Institute. I imagine, had I gone to Moscow, I would be studying in a Soviet style, 14 floor building, with a rickety lift that only worked sometimes. This institute is so far from that. Walking up to the group of buildings, I feel honored that I'm allowed to study within them. Each building is a blue that is hard to describe. I hesitate to say electric blue, but at the moment, that is what comes to mind. The architectural components of the building contrast in white. There are even onion domes, a structural aspect I imagned to be reserved only for churches and regal buildings.
Inside the building in which I study there is a tiny cafeteria, offering a small variety of things. The smell of hot Russian meals pervades the first floor. The second and third floors smell of bee's wax. A warm comforting sort of smell. Perhaps wax is used as a sort of protectorant for the old building. After your nose becomes accostomed to the smell of bee's wax and honey, the smells from the kitchen waft back through.
On appearance:
When you first walk into Entrance 7 of this Un-Soviet Soviet building, there is a coat check. And next to the coat check is a mirror- perhaps 7ft by 4ft. The purpose of this mirror is solely for "fixing" yourself. You turn in your coat and your hat and then you make sure you are as pretty as you were when you left. Walking the 100 feet to the bathroom mirror would be absurd. Ten people, could see you before you get there. Its funny to watch. As I don't really have a coat, I carry my sweater and wind-breaker to class.
On sidewalk conditions:
Outside the buildings; ice. Snow, ice, puddles, more ice. It is treacherous to leave the building. The wind alone could kill you. You take your life in your hands leaving the warm confines of the classrooms. I have a tendency to walk with my hands in my pants/trouser pockets. If you slip, certain death, or at least certain humiliation. I'm trying to train myself to keep my hands in my jacket pockets. They're looser, and I look less like Bob Dylan...
Anyway, I'm in Russia.
Sidebar 2--I'm ever aware of my shoes. I'm in a place where everyone is wearing black shoes. Most women I see in fancy black boots with heels and men in black european leathers. I have my North Face hiking boots. Tan and orange. Its a point of annoyance that I must remedy.
Lets go back to my arrival. I arrived in Russia via the Moscow airport. Went through immigration and flew to St. Petersburg. Landing at both airportw was the same experience. Snow everywhere, barely brushed off the tarmac. You disembark the plane. On one side-airport. The other side--a forest of thin white birch trees. The largest, no more than 3 inches in diameter. Its an eerie feeling arriving in a capital city- the capital of the largest country in the world- and you feel like you've landed in the quaintest village. Everything is quiet; grey. You know that somewhere out there is a city, but at this moment, its hard to believe.
On my school:
The Center for Russian Language and Culture is housed in the Smolny Institute. I imagine, had I gone to Moscow, I would be studying in a Soviet style, 14 floor building, with a rickety lift that only worked sometimes. This institute is so far from that. Walking up to the group of buildings, I feel honored that I'm allowed to study within them. Each building is a blue that is hard to describe. I hesitate to say electric blue, but at the moment, that is what comes to mind. The architectural components of the building contrast in white. There are even onion domes, a structural aspect I imagned to be reserved only for churches and regal buildings.
Inside the building in which I study there is a tiny cafeteria, offering a small variety of things. The smell of hot Russian meals pervades the first floor. The second and third floors smell of bee's wax. A warm comforting sort of smell. Perhaps wax is used as a sort of protectorant for the old building. After your nose becomes accostomed to the smell of bee's wax and honey, the smells from the kitchen waft back through.
On appearance:
When you first walk into Entrance 7 of this Un-Soviet Soviet building, there is a coat check. And next to the coat check is a mirror- perhaps 7ft by 4ft. The purpose of this mirror is solely for "fixing" yourself. You turn in your coat and your hat and then you make sure you are as pretty as you were when you left. Walking the 100 feet to the bathroom mirror would be absurd. Ten people, could see you before you get there. Its funny to watch. As I don't really have a coat, I carry my sweater and wind-breaker to class.
On sidewalk conditions:
Outside the buildings; ice. Snow, ice, puddles, more ice. It is treacherous to leave the building. The wind alone could kill you. You take your life in your hands leaving the warm confines of the classrooms. I have a tendency to walk with my hands in my pants/trouser pockets. If you slip, certain death, or at least certain humiliation. I'm trying to train myself to keep my hands in my jacket pockets. They're looser, and I look less like Bob Dylan...
Friday, January 9, 2009
Immodest Mouse
When I got dressed this morning, I took special precaution to wear a long sleeved, to the neck shirt. While Cairo is very modern, there are plenty of women covered to their eyes, and some with even their eyes covered. Most of the day I even wore a big wind breaker, just to make sure I wasn't cutting a figure.
But on my way home, I caught my reflection in a store window. I had completely forgotten to address my bottom half. I hadn't forgotten to dress my bottom half, don't worry. I just didn't put the modesty effort in. I realized I had absent mindedly worn a seductive pair of cargo 3/4 length pants. I had at least 6 inches of skin showing! Not to mention my feet! I can only imagine how many spontaneous erections I caused on the streets of Cairo today!
But on my way home, I caught my reflection in a store window. I had completely forgotten to address my bottom half. I hadn't forgotten to dress my bottom half, don't worry. I just didn't put the modesty effort in. I realized I had absent mindedly worn a seductive pair of cargo 3/4 length pants. I had at least 6 inches of skin showing! Not to mention my feet! I can only imagine how many spontaneous erections I caused on the streets of Cairo today!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Holy freezing pharoah jerky!!
I just reread my last blog from the airport. I must have said security about 25 times.
But I'm suffering from fatigue I think. I spent all day yesterday wandering around and packing, then went to the airport to take my flight at 1:00 to Cairo with a bunch of Thais led by an inredibly GayThai and an incredbly GayGyptian, as well as several men in ill fitting mumus. Let me tell you something, I am the least prepared traveller sometimes. And sometimes, common sense slips me. I think its more a matter of refusing to be led by rules. For example, visas. I never think about them until I get to the country. Which would have put me in a spot had I tried to go to Vietnam, as you have to get them before you fly. Another thing I don't operate under: time zones. I just mostly don't think about them. I recognize they exist. If I try to call someone, I check the time in their area. But travelling? time zones do not compute. So in my head, my flight from BKK to Cairo, which left at 1am and arrived at 6am, was a five hour flight. And I was really dreading not getting enough sleep. Imagine my surprise, as we should be preparing to land, and the stewards are passing out snacks. So then it dawns on me, oh yeah! Time zones! The smart thing to do at this point, would be to ask someone what the difference was between BKK and Cairo. But in my half lucid stupour, that just seemed an admission of idiocy on my part. And some part of me liked not knowing. It was like being in time limbo. I knew I was arriving at 6am. But 6am was not necessarily a defined time in the future. Would it arrive in an hour? Four hours? It was really a bizarre reality.
I did get a few extra moments of sleep due to the magic of time zones, which was nice. But only a few, because often I was playing, "When does 6am occur" in my head, taking cues from other passengers and the habits of the stewards.
So now I'm in Cairo. More rested than I thought I'd be, I headed to the museum. Maybe I was imagining the British Museum, but this was not the glorious place I thought it would be. It looked more like a moderately organized warehouse. I mean, the building itself was actually gorgeous. But the Egyptian Museum desperately needs a new curator. So many things had no information. Just another statue, just another sarcophagus, another pile of hair (yeah, gross). And maybe they were, but I'd appreciate any information. Maybe what pyramid they were found in. Anything. Some cases had information cards in Arabic. Some in Arabic, French, and English. The tri-lingual cards were so yellowed. The font was something off a typewriter. They were probably worth something themselves just for being so old. On the opposite end of time, there were cases with hand written notes on notebook paper, not even college rule!
You can't take pictures in the museum anymore, so I was in a pretty dour mood starting off. Really, I didn't get terribly interested until just before I got too tired to keep going. Unfortunate really. When I was little, all I wanted to be was an Egyptologist, and here I am surrounded by excessive amounts of artifacts, and I'm sad to say, I'm a little bored. This could have just been a manifestion of the biggest downside of travelling, not having anyone to share experiences with. I started writing things in my journal, and that helped a little.
Here's some things I jotted down:
Some of the mummies heads were seriously elongated. Alien? Evolution? Or some wierd head stretching ritual?
At some point in time, the Egyptians realized the tombs were being looted and moved several bodies to a cave for protection (taking some of the loot themselves to give to the current kings). They were more or less forgotten here. My guess would be something to do with Muslims not being to keen on the Pharoahs. Eventually, a sheepherder stumbled onto this cave and his family started trying to sell artifacts. Government finds out and steps in. They load all the bodies on a boat to float to Cairo. When they arrive at customs, the officials have no code for mummies, and so labeled them as "Salted Fish"
Ramses II looks a bit like beef jerky. Almost all the other mummies were black. He was shades of deep red and purples. I'm not gonna lie, cannibalism crossed my mind.
I can't help but think the pretties things in the museum are the visceral vases...at least the ones that don't have organs hanging out...
So thats the museum. Wish I had pictures.
If you have not been to Cairo, let me let you in on something amazing: Koshary. I grew up on leftover soup. Somehow my mom, through all her faults, always came through in the kitchen, and leftover soup was always good. Koshary is like fresh leftover soup. They put an assortment of noodles, something that looks like lentils soaked in fat, fried onions, and a lemon into a bowl or aluminum plate if its to go. They give you a small plastic bag of tomato sauce, a small plastic bag of dry chili sauce, and a small bag of vinegar. Mix it all together, soooo good. And they're open 24 hours. Guess what I'm getting for breakfast!
I got my Koshary togo and jumped in a taxi to head out to the citadel. The driver spoke no English, but gave me a cigarette and kept chatting away, attempting to be a tour guide. The driver on the way back gave me a candy bar, plus spoke English, so an upgrade! He's supposed to take me to the pyramids tomorrow. Easiest bargaining I've ever done. He gave one price for a day at the pyramids, I kind of ignored him. By the time he dropped me off, he had almost halfed it, with little haggle from me. But notice I said "supposed" to take me. I told him he could just drop me near my hotel and I'd walk around on the way there. Maybe I got totally disoriented, but the direction he pointed in was no where near my hotel. So we'll see if he turns up tomorrow. If not, no harm, I haven't paid him and there's a group leaving from my hotel an hour later.
I'm going to die in Russia. Off topic? I say this, because at this moment I am freezing. I'm not sure what the temperature is, probably 40 or 50. My nails are breaking off and my knees are terribly sore. I'm probably going to age 10 years in the six months I'll be in Russia.
Anyway, Cairo. I'm glad I'm only here for a 2 days. Because I love it here! Its given me just enough of a taste, without seeing so much I don't want to come back. I'm definitely coming back . There's a german girl here who comes to this same "hotel" twice a year. It is such a gorgeous city. The "dirty", "run down" parts have so much heart that you don't notice the dirt. I think this is common in Arabic countries, at least the ones I've been in. What is also common, is the constant harrassment by local guys. Usually they want to sell you something, or make commission off you buying something. But sometimes they seem to be generally interested in going out with you. But in reality, its still just about getting a visa I think. The owner of the place I'm staying said that's Tutankhamen's curse; Egyptians marrying foreigners. They can be a charming lot when you let them in. Its a love/hate relationship with these places. But I can't think of a city that has taken me as much as Cairo. I love it. I will be back.
Tomorrow: The Pyramids...hopefully!
But I'm suffering from fatigue I think. I spent all day yesterday wandering around and packing, then went to the airport to take my flight at 1:00 to Cairo with a bunch of Thais led by an inredibly GayThai and an incredbly GayGyptian, as well as several men in ill fitting mumus. Let me tell you something, I am the least prepared traveller sometimes. And sometimes, common sense slips me. I think its more a matter of refusing to be led by rules. For example, visas. I never think about them until I get to the country. Which would have put me in a spot had I tried to go to Vietnam, as you have to get them before you fly. Another thing I don't operate under: time zones. I just mostly don't think about them. I recognize they exist. If I try to call someone, I check the time in their area. But travelling? time zones do not compute. So in my head, my flight from BKK to Cairo, which left at 1am and arrived at 6am, was a five hour flight. And I was really dreading not getting enough sleep. Imagine my surprise, as we should be preparing to land, and the stewards are passing out snacks. So then it dawns on me, oh yeah! Time zones! The smart thing to do at this point, would be to ask someone what the difference was between BKK and Cairo. But in my half lucid stupour, that just seemed an admission of idiocy on my part. And some part of me liked not knowing. It was like being in time limbo. I knew I was arriving at 6am. But 6am was not necessarily a defined time in the future. Would it arrive in an hour? Four hours? It was really a bizarre reality.
I did get a few extra moments of sleep due to the magic of time zones, which was nice. But only a few, because often I was playing, "When does 6am occur" in my head, taking cues from other passengers and the habits of the stewards.
So now I'm in Cairo. More rested than I thought I'd be, I headed to the museum. Maybe I was imagining the British Museum, but this was not the glorious place I thought it would be. It looked more like a moderately organized warehouse. I mean, the building itself was actually gorgeous. But the Egyptian Museum desperately needs a new curator. So many things had no information. Just another statue, just another sarcophagus, another pile of hair (yeah, gross). And maybe they were, but I'd appreciate any information. Maybe what pyramid they were found in. Anything. Some cases had information cards in Arabic. Some in Arabic, French, and English. The tri-lingual cards were so yellowed. The font was something off a typewriter. They were probably worth something themselves just for being so old. On the opposite end of time, there were cases with hand written notes on notebook paper, not even college rule!
You can't take pictures in the museum anymore, so I was in a pretty dour mood starting off. Really, I didn't get terribly interested until just before I got too tired to keep going. Unfortunate really. When I was little, all I wanted to be was an Egyptologist, and here I am surrounded by excessive amounts of artifacts, and I'm sad to say, I'm a little bored. This could have just been a manifestion of the biggest downside of travelling, not having anyone to share experiences with. I started writing things in my journal, and that helped a little.
Here's some things I jotted down:
Some of the mummies heads were seriously elongated. Alien? Evolution? Or some wierd head stretching ritual?
At some point in time, the Egyptians realized the tombs were being looted and moved several bodies to a cave for protection (taking some of the loot themselves to give to the current kings). They were more or less forgotten here. My guess would be something to do with Muslims not being to keen on the Pharoahs. Eventually, a sheepherder stumbled onto this cave and his family started trying to sell artifacts. Government finds out and steps in. They load all the bodies on a boat to float to Cairo. When they arrive at customs, the officials have no code for mummies, and so labeled them as "Salted Fish"
Ramses II looks a bit like beef jerky. Almost all the other mummies were black. He was shades of deep red and purples. I'm not gonna lie, cannibalism crossed my mind.
I can't help but think the pretties things in the museum are the visceral vases...at least the ones that don't have organs hanging out...
So thats the museum. Wish I had pictures.
If you have not been to Cairo, let me let you in on something amazing: Koshary. I grew up on leftover soup. Somehow my mom, through all her faults, always came through in the kitchen, and leftover soup was always good. Koshary is like fresh leftover soup. They put an assortment of noodles, something that looks like lentils soaked in fat, fried onions, and a lemon into a bowl or aluminum plate if its to go. They give you a small plastic bag of tomato sauce, a small plastic bag of dry chili sauce, and a small bag of vinegar. Mix it all together, soooo good. And they're open 24 hours. Guess what I'm getting for breakfast!
I got my Koshary togo and jumped in a taxi to head out to the citadel. The driver spoke no English, but gave me a cigarette and kept chatting away, attempting to be a tour guide. The driver on the way back gave me a candy bar, plus spoke English, so an upgrade! He's supposed to take me to the pyramids tomorrow. Easiest bargaining I've ever done. He gave one price for a day at the pyramids, I kind of ignored him. By the time he dropped me off, he had almost halfed it, with little haggle from me. But notice I said "supposed" to take me. I told him he could just drop me near my hotel and I'd walk around on the way there. Maybe I got totally disoriented, but the direction he pointed in was no where near my hotel. So we'll see if he turns up tomorrow. If not, no harm, I haven't paid him and there's a group leaving from my hotel an hour later.
I'm going to die in Russia. Off topic? I say this, because at this moment I am freezing. I'm not sure what the temperature is, probably 40 or 50. My nails are breaking off and my knees are terribly sore. I'm probably going to age 10 years in the six months I'll be in Russia.
Anyway, Cairo. I'm glad I'm only here for a 2 days. Because I love it here! Its given me just enough of a taste, without seeing so much I don't want to come back. I'm definitely coming back . There's a german girl here who comes to this same "hotel" twice a year. It is such a gorgeous city. The "dirty", "run down" parts have so much heart that you don't notice the dirt. I think this is common in Arabic countries, at least the ones I've been in. What is also common, is the constant harrassment by local guys. Usually they want to sell you something, or make commission off you buying something. But sometimes they seem to be generally interested in going out with you. But in reality, its still just about getting a visa I think. The owner of the place I'm staying said that's Tutankhamen's curse; Egyptians marrying foreigners. They can be a charming lot when you let them in. Its a love/hate relationship with these places. But I can't think of a city that has taken me as much as Cairo. I love it. I will be back.
Tomorrow: The Pyramids...hopefully!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Bkk Airport en route to Cairo
I am currently in the Suvarnabhumi airport (sp?) in Bangkok. I am awaiting a flight to Cairo. It is midnight. The flight is scheduled to leave at 1:10am, arriving in Cairo at 6:15. Really? Someone actually thought that was a good idea?
Anyway, this has to be the least secure airport I've ever been in. You'd think considering the history, and the fact that its only a few years old, that they might beef security up a bit. I'm pretty sure I spotted at least 5 ways to get around security.
Also, once through security there are no food vendors. You have to go back through if you want anything. At the moment, I haven't even spotted a toilet. Additionally, once through security, there is a second layer of false security, that just checks that you can go to your gate. If you're too early, guess what? There are five chairs. You're sitting on the floor until they open your gate. Or you can go back through security again! Gee what fun!
So I arrived way early, and they wouldn't let me in. And there was no stores or food, so I went back. When I came back through security, there is no longer a second layer of security. Really? Not that they did any good anyway, but what point is there for any measure to exist if only sporadically.
---Few minutes later
I go through more false security. Find a toilet. Its flooding. Jesus Pete. They really half-assed this place. And the design is sooo modern, it just looks like you're in a space station.
Anyway, this has to be the least secure airport I've ever been in. You'd think considering the history, and the fact that its only a few years old, that they might beef security up a bit. I'm pretty sure I spotted at least 5 ways to get around security.
Also, once through security there are no food vendors. You have to go back through if you want anything. At the moment, I haven't even spotted a toilet. Additionally, once through security, there is a second layer of false security, that just checks that you can go to your gate. If you're too early, guess what? There are five chairs. You're sitting on the floor until they open your gate. Or you can go back through security again! Gee what fun!
So I arrived way early, and they wouldn't let me in. And there was no stores or food, so I went back. When I came back through security, there is no longer a second layer of security. Really? Not that they did any good anyway, but what point is there for any measure to exist if only sporadically.
---Few minutes later
I go through more false security. Find a toilet. Its flooding. Jesus Pete. They really half-assed this place. And the design is sooo modern, it just looks like you're in a space station.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Bangkok in a day
I was supposed to be in Bangkok for just a few days. And then head south to the beach for a few days before heading back for my flight to Cairo. Arriving on New Years Eve, in a town whose name I can only imagine is literally translated as "Debauchery", put a stop to any plans for sightseeing out of Bangkok. Like so many other holidays, once you drink yourself into a state that keeps you in bed till dark the next night, there's nothing else to do but drink right? And you stay in this vicious cycle until your liver rebels or you end up in jail. Thankfully, my partner in debauchery had a friend coming in, so I moved on. And since I don't usually drink alone , I've been able to come up for air, rank with diesel and sewage though it may be...
Besides, I'm going to have to run myself ragged in Cairo, so I really needed to relax for a bit.
Ok, so lets say hypothetically, you have drank yourself silly and have only a day or two left in Bangkok. Or like so many people, you only planned to be in this city for a day or two (and rightly so from what I've seen). Here's a suggested itinerary that will give you a good idea of what Bangkok is about. It will not give you any idea about Thailand though. If you think you can visit the capital of any country and gather more than a pinch of information on the country as a whole...well...sadly, you're probably the average American I run in to on these trips. I'll move on.
Suggested Itinerary:
Start out by taking the river taxi/ferry across the Chao Phraya river to Siriraj Hospital. A hospital? Yes. Because enclosed in this hospital is a museum of bodies, well, mostly parts that while terribly gross, I feel it does let you in on some small part of the Bangkok psyche. These pictures are not for the faint of heart. Technically you aren't allowed to take photos in the museum, but I snapped a few. Honestly, the ones I took aren't the worst of what's in there.
Here's an excerpt from my journal this morning:
I feel weak. I've cut my lip and my finger and I don't know how. I'm attempting to kill off a 4 day bender. My throat is sore, I can't swallow properly. I had only coffee and toast for breakfast. Now may not be the best time to see:
Photos:
Suicide by wrist slashing
Suicide by hand amputation
Multiple stab wounds
Child missing most of his head due to car accident
Man in similar condition but head completely off due to train accident
Many victims of grenades, literally piles of flesh with random appendages
Life size replicas of forensic teams at the site of the Tsunami, with bloated tourists piled up.
Head in a jar, split down the middle to show the brain. Eyes still open.
Two headed baby in a jar
So many babies in jars
Every organ in the human body floating in jars
Mummified murderers
The really unnerving thing for me was how many photos, etc seemed to be westerners, not Thais. As I'm posting this, I'm wondering if I should. Is it too much? Have I pushed the envelope too far? But I'm leaving it. Keep reading though, the day improves!
Below: Amputated Leg
Below: Mummified murderer
Below: Life size replicas of, you guessed it, Elephantitis. I really can't imagine being the artist who is commisioned to make a statue of a man with 80 lb testicles.
Below: This actually is not the worst "jar baby". I chose to shoot this one because its face was covered. I'm not entirely sure why, but it felt better. I know that most of these babies were not taken unaturally. But it was really sad to see them anyway. Notice the blur in the bottom front. Its a piece of candy. Often people will set up shrines to dead relatives and leave their favorite things in front. All the babies had little pieces of candy in front of them. It was sweet in a very macabre way.
Ok, enough of that.
Next, jump back on the ferry and head to Wat Pho, home of the illustrious 46 meter long reclining Buddha. What's that? Meters? Yes, for those of you that are not metrically inclined (myself included), that's about 150 feet. For those of you true Americans, its just shy of the width of a football field.
These guys just made me chuckle:
Its like a giant Buddha Store!
I think this has something to do with massage, or pressure points. There were several illustrations like this.
I don't know about you, but I see a man with big boobs peeing on a dog fish:
It would seem that Buddha was so vain, he worshipped himself...
Here we have representations of positions used in massage and meditation I believe. Some look like they aren't thoroughly enjoying themselves:
And finally, the Reclining Buddha. Quiz time! How long is he? 46 meters! 150 feet!
Sidebar--I've discovered many things on this journey, some I may have posted already. I'm currently being eaten alive by mosquitoes, so I'm getting sidetracked.
Discovery A--you can apply bugspray to your legs without rubbing it in with your hands. Just liberally spray it and then pretend you are a grasshopper.
Discovery B--when staying in a hotel or hostel, immediately throw your belongings all over the room. That way, if someone tries to break in, they'll think your room has already been ransacked!
Ok, back to the itinerary.
After Wat Pho, move on back to the river and catch the boat up to the central landing, where you can catch the BTS or Skytrain. This takes you through the skyscraper areas of Bangkok. Get off at Siam Square and check out the Mall/s aka "Monument to Exxxcess" There is Siam Discovery, Siam Center and Siam Paragon. Literally three four story malls; connected. Which begs the question, is it even 3 malls? But it definitely is. And definitely ridiculous.
Now if at any time during your journey, you can be approached by a "Wily Stranger" trying to take you to buy gems or cheap clothes, all the better. It will help you to have a more 'authentique' Bangkok experience.
Now I haven't made it out to the sex districts in Bangkok, but I do suggest it, as it is so much a part of the city, that you should probably check it out, and its easy enough to fit in a live sex show at the end of a hard day of touring the city...
So there you have it! Bangkok in a day.
Random shots around town.
Below: Trash bin at the Grand Palace. The King digs Yoda?
Below: I believe these are called Stupas, but since I've been drinking myself stupid (bah dum ch) don't believe me. Either way, they make nice hats.
A bit of the dichotomy of housing conditions:
To get into the Grand Palace, you have to be dressed appropriately. I was not. My dress actually ends just below the picture. I would like to point out the legs on the figures.
Palace Guards
These people love their King. I bet you could find a woman with his image tattooed on her boobs. (Sidebar--tried to find a bra at the mall, they were all too small)
Many places in this part of the world use squat toilets, or holes in the ground. This image is to show how to use a western style toilet.
More dried nasty than I ever wanted to smell:
I'll end with a somewhat familiar image:
Monday, January 5, 2009
Resurfacing
New Years has come and gone. I found an English bloke to celebrate with. We pretty much spent the evening drinking anywhere we could buy alcohol. At some point we watched a local Thai hardcore band. There was backstreet wanderings that included pet owls. And there was more drinking. We capped the night off with a round of grilled chicken hearts. I actually liked them so much we went back for seconds. They were really tasty! But when I tried to eat them sober...no go. I need liquid courage to eat any more chicken hearts.
Drinking continued for a few days really. With breaks for sleeping. We did try to catch a museum, but it was closed. So now I've moved on to a different room. One that seems to attract all horny and/or disgruntled cats in the neighborhood. And I've gone down to the local DVD stall. Where you gamble if the dvds are going to be ripped from an original dvd, or just bootleg shot from the back of a theatre. I've gotten Run Fat Boy Run, and it seems to be a genuine ripping. So I'm going to watch it just to force myself to stay up past 9. Then tomorrow, I will attempt some sort of site seeing...maybe...
Drinking continued for a few days really. With breaks for sleeping. We did try to catch a museum, but it was closed. So now I've moved on to a different room. One that seems to attract all horny and/or disgruntled cats in the neighborhood. And I've gone down to the local DVD stall. Where you gamble if the dvds are going to be ripped from an original dvd, or just bootleg shot from the back of a theatre. I've gotten Run Fat Boy Run, and it seems to be a genuine ripping. So I'm going to watch it just to force myself to stay up past 9. Then tomorrow, I will attempt some sort of site seeing...maybe...
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
You'll do what with my wine?
So I found other accomodation. Much cheaper, but that of course comes with a price. Bamboo walls and cold showers. But hopefully I won't be spending too much time in my room.
Although, I went for a bit of a wander. There are too many goddamn people here. It just makes me nervous. I don't wanna take my camera out, and if I can't take pictures, I don't wanna bother. Plus there are elephants wandering the streets. Ok, I'm exaggerating. I only saw one. But where's there's one elephant, one can only assume there are more right? They're well trained right? Maybe. I know they aren't well treated. I can't imagine owning such a beast of an animal and not respecting it. Case in point: A few weeks ago a local elephant owner left his money maker tied up for a few days and without food. Jeez, Wonder what a huge beast of a starving animal might do if left alone for a few days? It went on a rampage through Bangkok. Thankfully it only took its anger out on cars, but the potential for disaster is there.
So nervousness and claustrophobia, and vacation in general, leads to beer. So I stopped in a cafe for one. I noticed this particular cafe allows you to bring your own wine or liquor, but they do charge a modest "cockage" fee. I wonder exactly what happens to your bottle when you pay this cockage fee?
Anyway, I've found someone to get smashed with this evening, which was really my only goal here. I'll attempt some sight-seeing, but I'll be honest, I'm over it. Its too damn hot to wander around looking for another freakin' temple. There is a a forensic museum with ghastly things unrelated to any culture, but interesting, and I'll hopefully check out some Thai boxing on Friday. Then I'll head south for some lazy time on the beach. Gotta catch some rays before the deep abyss of grey in Russia!
Although, I went for a bit of a wander. There are too many goddamn people here. It just makes me nervous. I don't wanna take my camera out, and if I can't take pictures, I don't wanna bother. Plus there are elephants wandering the streets. Ok, I'm exaggerating. I only saw one. But where's there's one elephant, one can only assume there are more right? They're well trained right? Maybe. I know they aren't well treated. I can't imagine owning such a beast of an animal and not respecting it. Case in point: A few weeks ago a local elephant owner left his money maker tied up for a few days and without food. Jeez, Wonder what a huge beast of a starving animal might do if left alone for a few days? It went on a rampage through Bangkok. Thankfully it only took its anger out on cars, but the potential for disaster is there.
So nervousness and claustrophobia, and vacation in general, leads to beer. So I stopped in a cafe for one. I noticed this particular cafe allows you to bring your own wine or liquor, but they do charge a modest "cockage" fee. I wonder exactly what happens to your bottle when you pay this cockage fee?
Anyway, I've found someone to get smashed with this evening, which was really my only goal here. I'll attempt some sight-seeing, but I'll be honest, I'm over it. Its too damn hot to wander around looking for another freakin' temple. There is a a forensic museum with ghastly things unrelated to any culture, but interesting, and I'll hopefully check out some Thai boxing on Friday. Then I'll head south for some lazy time on the beach. Gotta catch some rays before the deep abyss of grey in Russia!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Prostitutes abound
Above is the sunset on Don Dhet...with some white balance askewment...
So I've made it Bangkok. The bus left an hour late but arrived 3 hours early. Go figure. So I wandered around bangkok at 4am. I did dirty things, like eat at Subway. And then went to a bar around 5am where I met some interesting people willing to put up with my stench. Well one anyway. The other two buggered off, hopefully because it was 5am and not because of my smell... But I spent the wee hours of the morning admiring prostitutes and making fun of fat slobs who come to Thailand with the sole purpose of laying a hot chick.
I've checked into quite a nice room. Its 11 dollars a night, which is actually quite pricey. But I'd be willing to stay...except they're booked the rest of the week. Bollocks.
Its New Years and I don't know what to do. Shower is on the top of the list, but there is only one for 10 rooms, so I don't know when I'll get the chance. Its about 830am, so I have time to nap, shower, wander and get drunk to ring in the New Year.
Happy New Year!
PS--Also found out I got bit by a leech! Yay for firsts!
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