Homestead

Although I like to think of myself as a pretty intelligent individual, I sometimes do dumb things. Like completely forget to write about my accommodations in Thailand (that's what you were thinking of when I referred to me doing dumb things right? Right?). I apologize to the throngs of faithful readers who have clamored for for an inside look into my luxurious lodgings. Without further ado.

My living quarters are in a word: simple. The GVI house has a rustic charm, but residing there is certainly an acquired taste. I am currently bunking with 3 others in a room fit for 6. And when I say "fit for 6," I am merely referring to the number of beds in the room, not the number of people who can comfortably live in the room. Although it is a bit cramped at times, I need to do little but think back to my New York "bedroom" in which I could touch both sides of the room at the same time. How far I have come. At least my sleeping quarters over here afford me enough space to get in my 200 daily push ups and sit ups.

The bathroom that services our bunkhouse is certainly different than back home. The shower and toilet are in very close proximity to each other and things do get a bit wet if you happen to drop the handheld showerhead (not that I've done that or anything). The toilet is "flushed" using a bucket of water. The bin on the other side of the toilet is for toilet paper. You get the idea, let's move on. Macauley Culkin (aka Kevin McCalister) once said of his Plaza Hotel bathroom that it was "luxurious...and spacious." I can assure you that I did not bestow such laudatory language in assessing my bano.

The rest of the house is welcoming and in working order. The laundry room is the green space out back with the collection of wash buckets and safety pins. The washing machine is yours truly and below are my tools of the trade.

I really have no complaints about my adopted homestead, but there is one "lingering" drawback. The house is located on a rather unfortunate stretch of road that is downwind from the a massive palm oil factory. I don't know much about palm oil, but I am certain of two things: the aforementioned factory produces an abundance of the stuff (as evidenced by their maintaining some form of activity 24 hours a day) and making it produces an absolutely horrid smell. It is hard to put my finger on it, but I think the odor could most accurately be described as a delightful combination of the smells of wet socks and spoiled milk. Although our pungent neighbor is a minor nuisance, I can take comfort in knowing that I will always know how to make my way back to the base, even if my vision has failed me in a freak accident (not a stretch of the imagination by any means for those who know my track record).

I know what you're thinking. "Geez, stop complaining so much. You ARE in Thailand!" Very well. I will conclude on a positive note. Although our base is a rather austere abode, we have been afforded one luxury. Since the citizenry of Ao Luk loves learning English from dedicated pedagogues like myself, we have been given access to a country club. A country club that doesn't appear to have any members, but somehow remains open. Although the tennis and golf facilities are impressive (somehow I forgot to bring my racquet or clubs, they must have been the last thing left out of my pack), the club's main attraction is the swimming pool. Always deserted, we have come to think of it as our own private pool. We even have a security guard who wakes up to open the entrance gate and undoubtedly keeps a close eye on the place when we are away. Only in Thailand.