ATTN: MOM - Your Daughter is Safe

Alright, now that we got that out of the way (so my mommy can put her heart attack on hold until the next time I find myself amidst a revolution/government coup), let me fill you in on Bangkok. Yet another lovely oxymoron of a place to add to my list of bass-ackwards Thai experiences.

We arrived by bus at 6:30 AM on Sunday morning, about three hours after the Red Shirt demonstrations became violent, and 21 people were killed. Basically, I woke up and almost wet myself, imagining mobs of rouge-clothed savages overturning my bus before I could even set foot on big city soil. Not cool. I was almost as freaked out as my loved ones were at home, whose frantic texts didn't exactly help the situation (sorry guys, I love you and know you meant well).

But what in the hell was I, a frazzled farang, supposed to do??

Well, I'll tell you what I did:

SONGKHRAN!!!!! (Said in your best spring break, frat boy voice)

So the military breaks out rubber bullets and (debatably) guns? We bust out water guns, and celebrate the Thai New Year like our lives depend upon it. And do not for one minute think that because you are wearing a red shirt or a brown uniform you will be spared... no no, we Songkhraners take no prisoners. Red shirt? You now wet red shirt, no ploplem, can do! Brown military fatigues? I dare you not to smile when I spray you in the face with my AK-H20. Basically, regardless of race, age, uniform, or religion, we were all just looking for a reason to smile, and good lord, we fucking found one.

As all good (and sketchy) things must come to an end, I now find myself in the northern city of Chiang Mai, where Songkhran is a bit more lighthearted, but also a bit more wet.

And with that, we part, and I wish you all the happiest of New Years, and a bit less worried about me (ahem, see title of post again, please).

Peace, love, and somewhat strange vibrations,
Karissa

Same-same... but different

Okay, so I've been off the grid for almost a month now, and before I get into the madness that is Bangkok at the moment, let me fill you in on the last few weeks:

My course was a roller coaster ride, filled with the highs associated with teaching that I have discovered are absolutely exhilarating, and the lows associated with stressing out about gerunds and dipthongs (look 'em up and feel my pain). The people in my course have been amazing (minus the token nutter or two), and I wouldn't have made it through without their support. All in all, one of, if not the, most rewarding experiences in my life. I am proud to announce I passed my course as one of the top in the class, and I am officially a teacher now!

One of the main things I've learned about this place that's helped me brush the dirt off my shoulders more than once: TIT. Yes, TIT. This is Thailand. Wondering why all the kittens have crooked tails here? No problemo. This is Thailand. Wondering why the Thai police have allowed my friends and I to wreak havoc across this bloody island on our motorbike with a sidecar (which is completely illegal in its own right, never mind the fact that we are often piled seven people deep)? No worries. This is Thailand. Ladyboys, hookers, and farangs coexisting peacefully together over ever-warming Changs, Singhas, and Leos? Tit, tit, tit. Nothing ever needs further explaining, and it makes being lost in translation a little bit awesome. As we say here, "Same-same... but different."

I've done a tiny bit of travelling, including an amazing trip to the island Ko Phi Phi while Sean was visiting, where we snorkeled (somehow i still haven't been diving yet) with black-tip reef sharks, went cliff diving, and played with monkeys on the beach. You probably know this place as paradise: it was made famous as such in the movie The Beach.

The beaches on the island of Phuket are gorg as well, though my sometimes 16 hour school days have kept me pretty grounded during the week. Work hard, play hard. No complaints... well, at least in retrospect. There were definitely a few complaints concerning my wanting to kick phonology in the face, but that's another story.

A 7.9 earthquake hit Indonesia day before yesterday, and I was roused that morning to a tsunami evacuation warning, which was lifted a couple hours later after no wave was generated. Crazy. It's surreal when you feel the effects of the '04 tsunami here, especially because they are so subtle that they catch you off guard. For example: most, if not all third world countries I've been to have a high population of mangy, malnourished street dogs and cats. I noticed my first week that on the island 99% of the cats and dogs you see have collars and/or seem to be well-fed. Reason? The stray animal population was all but wiped out 6 years ago, and re-population has been slow. Dead coral still lines some beaches. Tsunami evacuation route signs abound. I can finally put a face to a name, so to speak.

Anyway, back to now. My visa expired yesterday, so I'm technically in the country illegally. Getting that fixed tomorrow when I fly with a buddy down to Kuala Lumpur (KL to it's friends), Malaysia for a visa run. After that, I fly with some girlfriends to Bangkok for Songkran, which is Thailand's biggest holiday and festival, basically a week long water fight. Awesome, right?!Only problem? Thailand has, yet again, decided to Viva la Revolución! Yeah. The opposition party, known as the Red Shirts for obvious reasons, have been calling for the resignation of the newly-elected PM for a while now, but the situation just escalated in the last couple of days, with states of emergency being declared in Bangkok and 17 of the northern provinces, including the one where Chiang Mai is located (our next stop after Bangkok). Tourists are not being targeted at all though, and hey, a little revolution never hurts, right? So we (the farangs) march on...

This is Thailand.

Patong?

Pa-where-the-fuck-am-I-and-where-is fucking-Joey is more like it.


But lets start at the beginning, shall we? No. Let's start right goddamn here, because here is NOT on the side of a road surrounded by ladyboys (finally), here is NOT a tuk-tuk ride where I am taller than the tuk-tuk, and here is definitely NOT the loneliness of my AC oasis of a room in Phuket City.


Here is my new friend Joey's abode, and although I had my first real misadventure (Blog: validated) getting here, I am happy happy happy.


Okay for the first time too drunk too finish. Joey got me home safely, minus all the Ladyboys he exposed me to. Menace to society. Obv.


JOEY SERXNER, PUBLIC ENEMY #1.

catch y'all on the flipside

A Few Words On Phuket Upon Arrival

Humid. Lush. Beautiful.

Mission: Bangkok

Mission: Accomplished.

I've arrived in Bang-to-the-kok safely! It's 2:18 AM local time, and, after 30 hours of travel, my Brokedown Palace/Locked Up Abroad-esque fears were calmed as my (obviously) drug and WMD-free bags passed through customs seamlessly. The nice gentleman who checked my passport even took my picture from his seat at his desk! He must think I am some sort of Western movie star!

...along with every other person in line ahead of me [insert sound of deflating ego here].

Oh well. Movie star or not, everyone I've encountered between the airport and the airport hotel (distance: one minute) has been very nice, and speak excellent broken English, which I appreciate more than words can describe. No, actually, words can describe: I appreciate the nice, broken-English speaking people like I appreciate eating copious amounts of green tea ice cream while squeezing my kitty while petting my (or any) fluffy dog while watching this, simultaneously:

Which, if you know me, means I appreciate them A LOT.

So thank you, Bangkok, for greeting me with bright lights, flattering customs agents, and lovely people.

That's all for now folks, see you in Phuket!

A Haiku In Honor of the Tokyo Narita Airport

thank you, great tokyo

for the speaking of english

to me on your signs

Chicago O'Hare: A magical land of moving rainbow walkways and Kathy Lee Gifford

Yes, you heard right, sports fans: Kathy Lee Gifford. You probably don't remember her, and honestly, neither did I, until she joined the rather un-motley mix of business men, more business men, and me, in the international lounge in United's international terminal at O'Hare. I noticed the men's heads turning before I noticed this creature burst into the room, the woman who I now remember (after a little help from Google) used to sit in the chair next to Regis before she was booted and replaced by America's beloved Kelly.

So in walks this Z-list, ginger, semi-attractive, middle-aged former morning talk show co-host. Big deal. I turn my eyes back to my laptop and allow my thoughts to return t0 what I wanted to share with y'all during my first hours of my journey, and my last on American soil for a while. Maybe the NEAR DEATH (slightly bumpy) landing that I am so proud of myself for staying relatively calm during? Eh. The wimpy plane issue is a little played out, and this is only Blog #2. How about the lovely moving walkway that whisked me from Terminal C to Terminal B upon my arrival in the Windy City? It's psychedelic lights relaxed me while hidden speakers gently sang me a little ditty that can only be described as Japanese Hello Kitty Muzak, but this is something I feel that only my lovely boyfriend would enjoy reading about, and this blog is for everyone (all three of you!).

So Back to the lounge. I'm sitting here, eating my bagel, which is, naturally, smeared with an unusually large portion of cream cheese (I prefer about a 1:1 ratio of bread to cheese), when I strike gold:

Kathy Lee Gifford has re-emerged, and 'someone' has changed the lounge television channel from CNN to some morning talk show, of which she is apparently now a host.

Disclaimer: I. Shit. You. Not.

I, along with the other shocked lounge dwellers, could obviously not help but notice, as she began to loudly recount the taping of the show earlier this morning (are morning shows not live??), and then began bitching about her guest: Chelsea Handler.

Okay, now here is the thing. I'm not going to claim to be the Number One Handler fan in the world, but I will not deny that while channel surfing over the past couple years she has made me laugh out loud on more than one occasion. I mean, come on, she unashamedly calls her little person sidekick, Chewy, a "nugget", and he unashamedly takes it. I like her.

So anyway, back to Gifford. Now she's eating an apple and eyeing my cream cheese slathered bagel with something mixed with rage and jealousy.

Sorry, Gifford, you may have some gig on a morning show and a hell of a lot more dough than I do, but money can't buy you a 23-year-old metabolism. Suck it.

And then, she was gone.

But she's still blaring at me from the TV (none of us left in the lounge have made the move to change the channel), now rambling like a drone about discount cruises. I'm finishing this post, finishing my bagel, and escaping back to The Real World: Non-Lounge Chicago O'Hare Airport.

Catch y'all on the flipside,

Karissa