I have now posted my photos on Community Webshots. There is a link on this page. Photos in these albums are intended for family members and have been censored for content.

PREFACE: For anyone who knows me very well and or has listened to my “Vilas” story, then you understand the necessity of this entry. For those who do not, I advise you to stop reading. I will try to keep this story PG, but I’m a PG-13 kinda guy and sometimes things slip. Try as hard as possible not to visualize anything either. Seriously try, for the sake of whatever relationship you (the reader) and I have, try not to visualize. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The food in Thailand is spicy. That right there may have been the understatement of the century. In the United States I thought I was tough shit and could eat anything spicy. One of my first meals here I ordered rice, basil, chili, and pork dish. My friend helping translate asked if I wanted it spicy, in a bold and calm manner I replied, “Yea, no sweat.” He asked me if I was sure, “Yea, I can handle spicy food” was my reply. My friend then proceeded to order the food “half” spicy. I scoffed at the notion of half spicy and said I could have handled it. Ten minutes my food arrived, mmm looks good. I dig right in, after two bites I start to hiccup uncontrollably. The hiccups get louder and more violent, with tears running down my cheeks, and what feels like a torch scalding my mouth. I manage to speak between hiccups, “This is half spicy?!?!?!” Welcome to Thailand.

As you may imagine, any food that makes me cry like a little baby has to do a little damage to the gastro-intestinal tract. Everyday I have a rumble in my jungle, if you know what I mean. Instead of Ali/Foreman, it’s Thai food vs. Jesse’s stomach. No matter how hard I try, I am always Foreman and this, my friends, is where the story gets interesting.

I am accustomed to rather posh living standards here in Thailand. My bathroom not only has a toilet but a urinal, in case I don’t feel like peeing on the right side of the bathroom (actually Thai call it Toilet) but the left side. This is not Thailand. After avoiding having to use a public bathroom for my first few weeks my luck finally ran out. For someone who avoids American public restrooms like the plague I could only imagine what was in store for me in Thailand.

I entered the bathroom stall and to my horror I found something resembling a 19^th century outhouse rather than a bathroom. Granted, there was porcelain, but the “bowl” was a mere four inches off the ground. Instead of a round seat there was two flat panels for each cheek, each panel was ridged, like the sole of a shoe. I have no time to think things through; I’m having a deal or no deal moment. I pick a box and wait for the consequences. Well, it turns out after a moment of pure elation a stage of panic quickly sets. I look around and there is no TP or hose (back track, all toilets in Thailand have a hose that looks like the one next to your kitchen faucet, apparently many Thai do not use TP but rather this manual ba-day. I know that’s not how you spell it, but phonetically you understand. I was told about this fact just days before, but dismissed the idea of ever using because I was convinced I’d ever use one. Oh how I wish I had one now). I am now squatting so low my thighs are burning, and I have nothing to clean with. I contemplate using my boxers, but I think, “Can I afford to lose a pair?” I call my friend who so graciously brings me napkins and a bag to throw them in. Instead of flushing with a nice little handle, I have to take a bucket and fill it up with water and repeatedly pour water in the bowl to flush my remains. If only this was my worst bathroom story.

The very next day I was on my way to the beach. I arrived at the bus stop before my friends. I’m having another eight round bout in my stomach; I don’t have the luxury of waiting for a beautiful toilet, not with a 3 hour bus drive looming ahead. I look for the bathroom, and start to follow the signs. I went what turned out to be a three minute obstacle course, and trust me three minutes is a looong time. I find the bathroom and before being allowed in I have to pay 3 baht. Now I’m fumbling around in my pocket for change as the pains in my abdomen sharpen. I race into the stall and take care of business; I neglect to observe my surroundings. Once again, no TP, but I do see a hose. I thought the feeling “Ok, I know how to do this, this stuff is easy to oh shit this is harder than I thought” was done when I finished my last college exam. WRONG! While I was relieved I has something to work with, as I picked up the hose I realized I had no idea how to use this. Yes, it’s only a hose, but trust me, it’s more complicated than just pressing the nozzle. Which way do I point this thing? I could potentially spray my pants and jewels with the um….stuff (ok, fecal matter, there I said it). My other option was to spray from the other direction and leave some new “wallpaper”. Not liking either option I choose option C. I can spray upward and let gravity take over. The only reason why I thought this was the best choice is because I have found water pressure (see post “I am a dirty boy”) is less than sufficient here in Thailand. Well, here goes nothing. WHOOOOOOAAA!!!! Perhaps one of the most uncomfortable moments in my life, I just goosed myself! It was like a Super Soaker 50 (the best sized Super Soaker, bar none) aiming and hitting the bulls eye with the precision of Robin Hood splitting the arrow. Ashamed and violated I walked out of that bathroom with my head down and leaving behind a little bit of dignity. Ever since, I have fought Mother Nature every step of the way, and have yet to use a public bathroom since.

I’ve uncovered a fun little fact about where I live. At first I thought it was a load of crap and after some research (all internet sources, sans Wikipedia) I’ve concluded this story is plausible. However, after the daughter of the director of my school made an off hand comment, I have finally come to believe. Drum roll please…..da da da da da da da da da da…….The tattoo artist that gave Angelina Jolie her tiger tattoo lives down the street from me! That may have been anti-climatic for my parents who probably don’t know who Angelina Jolie is (kidding…I hope). Anyway, I kept hearing from my friend every time we walk past his house that this is THE guy. He’s very revered in the tattoo community and has several big name clients (I only know AJ). He employs the traditional method with bamboo rods and is considered to be some what of a witch doctor. He hums chants and blesses your tattoos with good fortune. Here is a website I found with pictures http://www.outsidethebeltway.com/archives/2004/07/angelina_jolie_thai_tiger_tatoo/

My George Costanza moment is quite funny now that I am about to write about it. I’m thinking of the episode where George buys Jon Voigt’s ‘89 LeBaron.

Jerry: You bought a car because it belonged to Jon Voight?
George: No, no…
Jerry: I think yes, yes.

If you haven’t put two and two together I’ll spell it out for you.

Jerry: You want to get a tattoo because the guy tattooed Angelina Jolie?
Jesse: No, no….
Jerry: I think yes, yes.

George wanted a car because of the father, I want a tattoo because of the daughter. Don’t worry mom, I’m not going to get a tattoo. I don’t know what I’d tattoo on my body. It would be an awful decision to get a tattoo just for a conversation starter. I just found this to be a fun little fact; I live by a world reknowned tattoo artist that gave Angelina Jolie her tiger tattoo.

Here are some thoughts/feelings I’ve had about driving since my arrival, nearly 6 weeks ago (I can’t believe I’ve been here so long). I’ve put off writing about this, but it can’t be pushed back anymore. I hate driving in Thailand. It is absolutely insane! First of all, I still am not used to driving on the other side of the road. I’ve nearly been hit by a car several times because I look the other way ( I know, look both ways, but come on, do you?). I remember my first day here I was with an AIESEC girl who told me to quick cross the road, only to yell “STOP!” in the middle of the road. I then froze in the middle of traffic as cars whizzed by me on both sides. I have learned to be uber aggressive when crossing the road, otherwise you will be stuck for ages. Drivers could also be classified as uber aggressive. I lived in Chicago where drivers are reckless, but I have never been so scared of other motorists than I have in Thailand. The shoulder of the road is fair game, almost considered another lane altogether. Motorbikes are constantly weaving in and out of traffic. Motorbikes are like taxis here, pay 15 baht, hop on the back and they take you where ever you want. I have been very hesitant to ride one, since I see how they drive, but in the rural areas I feel that it is safe(r). In fact last weekend was my virgin voyage on a motorbike. It was similar to another virgin voyage I’ve had. It was scary, exhilarating, a moment I will never forget, and way too quick. Whoops, sorry Mom. But unlike that time, there were 3 people involved on the motorbike. My first time on a motorbike in Thailand we crammed 3 people on a 125 cc motorbike!!!! I know that’s freaking crazy! I kept yelling “OH MY GOD” on the ride. Visual: Front, a 270 lb Thai driver, me, my british friend, no idea how we fit on that seat. I have never felt so close to 2 other men, I hope that I never have that feeling again.
When I drive to Bangkok or any other place with someone at school, I am absolutely mortified. I like to sit in the front seat because that is the only place you are required to wear a seatbelt. In the back it is uncommon to wear one, and people have commented to me that I don’t need to wear it. I don’t know if it’s rude on my part to tell them I want to wear one because they drive like a freaking 16 year old tripping on acid and speed at the same time! I probably scare the driver more than anything because I do a lot of gasping and clutching of anything I can grab onto in the car. I’ve gotten more used to driving here during my stay. I don’t know if this is a good thing. Am I getting used the driving style of the Thai or has my sensitivity to death by car quelled since I expect to die every car ride? I really hope it is the former.

Thailand has many scattered holidays, much more than in the United States. This past Saturday was one of those holidays, I believe it was to honor Buddah. It was recognized on Saturday but we were still given Monday off. Niice, 3 day weekend! What better way to spend a long weekend than at the beach?!!?! Along with my fellow AIESEC friends, we made the 3 hour trek to Pattaya, a tourist beach known for their, um, female companions. This was not our final destination, but we had plans to attend a Hard Rock Cafe party. This particular party was a “foam” party. Quite frankly, I had a vague idea of what to expect, but nothing in my head matched the reality of what I was about to venture into. After dinner we went to the hotel to get changed. I came down in jeans and a collared shirt. “You may want to change” was the response I got walking downstairs. I went up to put on some khaki shorts, but this was still too much clothing. We got to the hotel and nervously walk into the pool area where the party is being held. On the deck of the pool is a DJ in a tower overlooking the party. There is a fenced off area to your left and the pool to the right. Let’s just say many Europeans vacation in Pattaya and are very comfortable with their bodies. Yes, this meant many beautiful blondes in tiny bikinis. It also means old, fat men in speedos just as tiny. It was the men who danced even crazier than the women. I am really uncomfortable, I have never been to anything remotely close to this. As the saying goes, when in Rome do as the Romans do. I stripped down and went to the foam pit. The next part of the evening can only be described as an eclectic mix of people rubbing up on other people with an inordinate amount of soapy foam acting as a sexual lubricant. I’ve said too much.
The next day we were off to the small island of Ko Somet. While this island is becoming more touristy, it pales in comparison to Pattaya. It takes an brief 45 minute boat ride to get to the island. When you get there it’s pure relaxation. What else did you expect from clear water and sandy beaches? While I enjoyed the sun, what I enjoyed just as much was the food. It was so nice to have the option of eating something other than rice. While the club sandwhich was nothing to write home about (whoops, I guess i’m doing that now) it was nice having meats and cheeses between to slices of bread. After a weekend at the beach, I am nice and tan and already planning my next visit.