I'm in Nepal. Leave a message.

First off, a belated thank you to Kim and the rest of the Thailand crew for providing most of "my pictures." I am very good at taking photos of things, but horrendous at taking photos of people. Without your pictures, my album would have given the impression that I taught English by myself for 5 weeks. And that would have killed my reputation.

I have been in Nepal for a few days now and am in shock. I thought that Thailand had provided me sufficient exposure to "unique" modes of travel, questionable sanitary conditions, and a generally chaotic lifestyle.

Then I rode a "public bus" through the streets of Kathmandu, took a shower in the dark and ate numerous meals with my grubby hands.

I am currently in some place called Bhaktapur and will be venturing out into the Nepalese back country where my undoubtedly luxurious residence awaits. From what I've been told, I will be based along a river in a "small town" where electricity is "spotty." I can't wait.

Not surprisingly, I will not have Internet access until my return to Kathmandu on March 23rd. At that time, I will be able to update my reader(s?) on my teaching experience, general physical well-being, and whether or not I fell off a cliff in the Himalayas. So sit tight and I'll be back in March.

The LONG Weekend

Our last weekend as a group was a long one, in both the literal and figurative senses. It spanned from Saturday morning to Tuesday afternoon as our teaching term was complete and the beaches of southern Thailand beckoned. The beaches won.

Although most of the group headed directly out to Ko Phi Phi, Sean, Erin, Josh, Katie and myself elected to spend an evening in Railay (pictured above) based upon Katie's affinity for the place. Well, I actually was more interested in checking out the mellow beach town after reading the glowing review from Lonely Planet Thailand in which they describe Railay as a locale that "could easily serve as a fantasy cover for a Harlequin romance." That was all I needed to hear. Upon arriving by long tail boat, we proceeded directly to the Garden View Resort ("resort" used very loosely) and were shown to our bungalows. Actually, we first had to reach the base of the hill on which the hotel was located via a winding rock path next to the sea and then had to ascend multiple sets of steep stairs and makeshift ladders before finally reaching the reception area. However, the physical exertion was well worth it when we saw that the rooms were clean and airy with charming porches on which we could sit and discuss politics and philosophy (or drink beer and swat mosquitoes). The only concern that we had with the rooms was that the bathrooms (which were lovely) required the user to remember the three-foot drop that greeted them at the entrance. The picture below doesn't do justice to the danger that such an unconventional bathroom setup presented to our group (we teach BASIC English, not advanced).


After a relaxing evening in Railay, we missed the ferry to Ko Phi Phi by 5 minutes. By that I mean that we woke up 5 minutes after the ferry left, which is shocking since we went to bed at 10 o'clock. After taking the scenic route via long tail boat, minibus and ferry, we disembarked in Phi Phi and were greeted at the pier by some charming gentlemen who had the inside deal on hotels, scuba trips, drink specials, massages, etc. Thankfully we were meeting the others at their hotel and did not have to determine which hawker was offering the "best deal" as it would have been extremely difficult since they were all offering the "best deal."

On the surface, Phi Phi has much more of a "let's get drunk on the beach" feel than the more subdued Railay. The omnipresent offers of 2 for 1 buckets make accomplishing such a level of intoxication quite easy. Although I much prefer the more laid-back ambiance of Railay, the scenery in Phi Phi was fantastic (as it is most places in Thailand) and we were treated to a fire show of epic proportions. The fire show was unique in that it strongly encouraged audience participation in such timeless pastimes as jumping rope and doing the limbo. Check that, jumping fire rope and doing the fire limbo. Although I am still awaiting a video from my Irish cameraman (which will be posted), I do recall that Sean and I had little trouble jumping over the rope, but a young lady (who shall remain nameless) opted not to jump because she was "scared." Of jumping that is, NOT the large rope engulfed in flames. Thankfully she emerged largely unscathed, save for the faint charcoal tattoo on her ankle. Nothing a bucket can't cure...


Our last evening was spent on Maya Beach, which was a short boat ride from Phi Phi. For those of you who haven't memorized the entire contents of Leonardo DiCaprio's IMDB web page (soooo, everyone), this is the beach location used to film "The Beach," Mr. DiCaprio's thoroughly mediocre 2000 follow-up to "Titanic." ("Titanic" was also mediocre, but it made a lot more money and starred Billy Zane.) ANYWAY, we were treated to a surprisingly tasty dinner, a beautiful sunset, and yet another bucket. Not surprisingly, it was an early night as everyone was running on empty after Phi Phi. Sleeping on a beach is scenic and peaceful, but it is by no means comfortable. And the tide comes in. Regardless of how sore I felt in the morning, I still got to fall asleep and wake up to the images below. I wonder what it looks like back home right now...


NB: Bonus for not falling asleep and making it through the whole post! Here is the link to my photos from the 5 weeks at the GVI House. I have written some captions for identification purposes, mild humor, etc. if you're interested. Lastly, at the moment I can't figure out how to post this in a prominent place on the blog so it will reside here for the time being.

http://picasaweb.google.com/alexander.tilton/PictorialAccompanimentToRamblingsFromAsia#

Catching Up

Although my posts thus far have mostly been lengthy anecdotes about a particular evening, afternoon, or 30-hour series of flights, my next few posts will be more general reports on our last two weekends (where we went, what we did, whether or not there were any major injuries, etc.). Therefore, my rambling (if you can even call it that) will be far more concise and I will be including many more photographs than the usual one or two (or none). As my time in Thailand is nearly over (I am jetting off to Nepal on Sunday), I felt it was necessary to fill in the gaps for the last two weeks by offering slightly abridged accounts of our "off-duty" activities. Additionally, since I will finally be linking my photos tomorrow (Saturday bonus!), I need to clarify where those photos are from, what we are doing in them, etc. I will now stop attempting to justify the merits of this post as I am boring myself. Let's forget this ever happened and move on.

Our first overnight jaunt on one of our much-deserved weekends off was to the Tiger Temple and the picturesque beach town of Ao Nang. As we piled into the minibus for the trip to the Tiger Temple, I wondered what I would end up remembering most about our ascent to the top of the mountain. Well, I lost about 10 pounds of water weight, nearly tumbled down the last 200 steps, and was at considerable risk of being assaulted by the several gangs of monkeys who appeared to run the place. Other than that, it was great. Despite these omnipresent dangers (just ignore my complaining), the group had a lot of fun, the views from the summit were spectacular, and I perfected my hand-on-chin pose in front of a breathtaking backdrop (I'm a really sweet dude, I know).


After photographically documenting our presence on the peak, we started our descent just as the dreaded "jelly leg" syndrome was setting in. As many of you know, my ability to focus on complex tasks such as putting one foot in front of the other is unparalleled. However, I will admit that I had a few close calls going down the steep hillside as many of the "steps" were not wide enough to support even half of my foot, thus requiring me to move laterally. As idiotic as I looked going down sets of stairs sideways, I managed to save face by NOT rolling down the mountain (my mother would be so proud) and proceeded to join the rest of the group in trying to photograph the overly aggressive monkeys (it was mating season so that might offer a partial explanation).


After a thoroughly satisfying lunch of something other than Thai food (during which I inhaled my pizza in approximately 6 minutes; an act that drew disgusted looks from some of my dining companions), we completed the short drive out to Ao Nang. This was the Thailand that you see in the brochures. Well, maybe the ones in European travel agents' offices because I laid eyes on far too many overweight German and English tourists in Speedos. Aside from the unwanted eye candy, Ao Nang was my first experience with "tourist Thailand" as it had all the usual Western charms (McDonald's, Burger King, Starbucks) and its streets were predominantly filled with farang (Thai word for non-Thai person). Hell, if not for the Thai massage shops and ubiquitous elephant trekking advertisements, I could have just as easily been in Cancun (assuming Carson Daly showed up later in the afternoon). In stark contrast to sleepy Ao Luk, nobody in Ao Nang gave my pale chest even a second glance. Where was the gawking to which I had grown so accustomed? Apparently I'm not as special as I had been led to believe for the previous three weeks. Despite the lack of attention paid toward us, I think everyone enjoyed the brief respite from being stared at and I KNOW everyone enjoyed their hotel rooms' air conditioning and hot showers.


As we awoke on Sunday morning, a few folks (not me, of course) were operating at far below 100% (2 for 1 happy hour seemed like a good idea at the time...). After making the ill-advised decision to kick the cobwebs by consuming the greasy offerings of Burger King, we boarded a speedboat for a day of sun, snorkeling, and trying not to drown. Our guide was Nong (pictured above), a former GVI student and resident expert on the best locales for seeing marine life around Ao Nang. Nong seems to have an unlimited supply of energy and he kept us afloat (literally and figuratively) for the whole trip with his constant joking and rousing renditions of R. Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly" (sung while hanging off the end of the speeding boat). Although I briefly considered trying to impart to Nong who R. Kelly was and what he had been accused of doing, my lethargic state (and complete focus on not throwing up as we bounced along the water) ultimately prevented me from doing so. Anyway, the snorkeling was good, the beach naps were better, and the scenery was second to none (an example can be seen below in my picture of Hong Island, which was the third stop on our island-hopping tour).

In sum: I slept in an air conditioned room, had some good meals, went snorkeling, and listened to Nong sing. Life could be a whole lot worse.

Educational Experiences

This post will focus on my teaching exploits (in case you forgot, that is my primary activity while I'm in Thailand). My first stint as an educator has recently ended to the great disappointment of my students (or so I like to think). Although it was a successful term of classes, it provided many flustering moments for yours truly.

After clumsily stumbling through my first two 45 minute lessons, I was rather dubious about my ability to provide 90 minutes of intellectually stimulating and linguistically challenging material for my charges. It's amazing how slowly the clock hands creep along when you are profusely sweating at the front of the room with 10 sets of eyes focused squarely on you. And you're repeating yourself. Repeatedly.

Although I routinely estimated the quality of my lessons to be somewhere in the range of par to subpar, my trainers and fellow teachers continually praised my efforts. I'm not sure if this means that I was actually doing a good job or if they just didn't want to have to fill in for me on Tuesdays should I be laughed out of the classroom. Regardless of their motivations, I was deeply appreciative of their encouraging remarks.


I know what you're thinking. "Enough of this self-congratulatory nonsense about how you taught English so well. Let's get to the moments where you made a fool of yourself." Very well. I had a few nagging problems that routinely surfaced during my lessons and invariably provided great amusement to the students. Foremost, I developed the habit of repeating myself when the students were slow to understand one of my questions. For some unknown reason, I would momentarily forget that they are learning English and may not understand me, thus my strategy of repeating the question was rendered useless. However, sometimes they would understand my query and still I repeated myself, which I can only attribute to my nervous energy and deep-seated fear of awkward silences during times that I'm the center of attention (in all other situations, I cherish awkward silences).

Another general issue that caused confusion in class should hardly come as a surprise to those who know me well. I am a pretty sarcastic person and I often fail to control myself when a situation presents an opportunity to make a witty remark (well, sometimes it's witty, other times I'm just not funny). On more than a few occasions, I was in the midst of a presentation to my students when I noticed something amiss with the resource that I was using. For example, we usually began each class with some choral and individual drilling of the vocabulary being introduced in that evening's session. This activity required me to stand in front of the students, show them a flashcard with a picture of the word, and check for pronunciation. Undoubtedly a straightforward exercise, but I found a way to perplex my pupils in their efforts to pronounce simple words and phrases such as "tall" or "drive a car."

In one instance, the card that I was holding showed an image in which the sex of the person who was "making breakfast" was completely ambiguous. Since I was using it in a story with other cards, it was imperative that they understand that "he makes breakfast." Unfortunately, a few students said "he," a few said "she," and a few just said "make breakfast." And all responses were correct, based upon the image being shown to them. However, instead of clarifying that the answer was "he makes breakfast," I muttered something under my breath about the low quality of the flashcard (which I drew) and only furthered the confusion of the students. Apparently, my efforts at self-deprecation do not translate well in a basic English language class. Instead of laughing heartily at my witty sarcasm, they tried to comprehend what I had just mumbled, thus disrupting the flow of an otherwise efficient session of vocabulary practice. I'm a natural at this teaching thing.


Thais (or at least the 10 in my class) seem to have no issues talking openly about their weight. Perhaps it is my ingrained Western sensitivity towards referring directly to another person's weight (particularly that of a woman), but I was slightly uncomfortable when imparting the meaning of the adjective "fat" during my final class. After successfully navigating the introductory drilling, my lesson plan called for me to hand out flashcards with the adjective written on them and have the students match the words to the corresponding picture cards on the whiteboard. Before class, I had reminded myself not to give the "fat" card to an overweight member of the class. Perhaps I was overestimating the awkwardness that would result, but I wanted to avoid the situation if possible. So what do you think happened? In my hurried shuffling of the word cards, I somehow jumbled the meticulously crafted order that they had been put in before class. As such, I ended up giving the "fat" card to Joy, one of the more overweight ladies in the group. Well done professor. Ultimately, it became clear that she couldn't have cared less and they ended up laughing at my uneasiness with the whole situation, but not before I struggled mightily to dislodge my foot from my mouth.

A second anecdote that centered around the weight of my students occurred on testing day. While final evaluations (to determine whether or not the student should move up to the next class level) were taking place in another room, two of the four teachers were leading the class in a plethora of language games to take their minds off the imminent examinations. After conducting my assigned testing, I joined fellow teacher Jo in organizing the class for the "back to the board" game. The exercise begins with the teacher writing a word on the board while one student has their back to it. The rest of the students then take turns using the word in a sentence, but they are required to make a "beep" sound in place of the actual word. For example, I might say "I BEEP my car to work." What's the answer? Drive. Very good class!

The students (and Jo) thought it would be great fun to have me plop down in the hot seat. Jo, being the joker that she is, decided to write "fat" on the board. After the first few sentences gave me no helpful insight, it was Joy's turn. Slyly grinning, she said "Pit (the woman seated next to her) is BEEP." Um, ok. My natural inclination was to think that Joy was being complimentary of her seat neighbor and that perhaps the answer was "beautiful." Despite my suspicions, I didn't offer a guess and instead let Pit try her hand at providing the crucial clue. As she sat there with a rather exasperated look on her face, Pit's frustration with both my inability to provide the answer and her struggle to think of something new to say (the game had gone through 7 or 8 rounds so most of what could be said had been) grew increasingly apparent. After 10 seconds had passed, she suddenly blurted out "I...am...FAT!" The rest of the class immediately broke into raucous laughter as I sat there with a thoroughly confused look on my face. At this point, I realized that my inhibitions in referring to a woman's weight need to be checked at Thailand's door. In the Land of Smiles, they apparently don't care (as evidenced by Joy happily posing for a picture with her teacher).

My last tidbit from the teaching trail is brief, but it is by far the most embarrassing tale, both personally and professionally (I'm a professional teacher, right?). Prior to the examinations, each teacher was assigned a weaker student for a one-on-one tutorial. I met with Sao, a gregarious lady who always arrived at class in her aerobics outfit (that's about all I got on her). The session took place on a Friday, which was often a tough day for the teachers following our usual Thursday evening festivities. In an effort to be fully prepared for Sao's review lesson, I decided to consume two Red Bulls. To clarify, two Thai Red Bulls. To those unfamiliar with the difference between Red Bulls, the concoction sold in stores over here contains far more caffeine and sugar than its American counterpart. Anyway, after rapidly gulping my beverages in the late afternoon, I met with Sao at 5 o'clock. The lesson ran smoothly until we began a review of directional words and phrases. I pulled out the sample town map and Sao told me how to get to a few places. She had little trouble with these tasks, but was slightly befuddled when I tried to correct her for...providing the right answer. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I tried to tell her that left was right. Twice. Coupled with my exhausted state, the Red Bulls had transformed me from my usual deliberate, thoughtful self into a stammering idiot incapable of differentiating between left and right. Sao laughed; I cringed. At this point, I made the decision to take myself out of the running for "Teacher of the Year."

Ultimately, teaching English has been far more challenging than I anticipated. Despite my mishaps, I think my Thai students enjoyed the experience as much as I did. Or so it appears in the pictures below (well, the second one is from the end-of-term party so A might have just been happy because I got him a beer). Either way, I'll take it.

Rubdown

First, a housekeeping note. I will have some time to go through my pictures in the next few days and organize them a bit. I will then link them from the blog (on Google Picasa) so you can see more than the few I've already posted. I know my prose is not good enough on its own to maintain your interest (well, maybe that of my parents). Unfortunately, the following story does not have any photo documentation; I think you'll understand after reading.

I have experienced many new things during my time in Thailand. I drank my first Singha, participated in my first fire show, consumed vodka from a children's sand bucket for the first time, taught English to middle-aged Thai women for the first time, etc. However, I had one of my more memorable episodes a few weeks ago during my painful (and slightly disconcerting) introduction to the wonderful world of Thai massage.

As I approached the local massage parlor, I was confident that I was adequately prepared both physically and mentally for the 1 hour torture session that was to commence shortly (you probably know where this is going). I wasn't. To clarify, the physical pain was tolerable and actually paid great dividends later in the week as my body felt far more limber than usual, but the bizarre interactions that I had with the masseuses remains my most vivid memory of the afternoon.

I entered the dark, cool room eager to plant myself on one of the mattresses lined up along the wall to my left. It had been a long week of teaching, not eating enough, and drinking too much. In addition to being excited about the beds, I was pleasantly surprised to feel the frigidity of the air conditioning, which is a luxury that is in short supply around Ao Luk. Thus far, the only places that I've found that utilize A/C are the massage parlor and 7-11. But the latter doesn't offer massages; there's not enough space. As I gently reclined my weary body, Poi (my friendly masseuse) washed my feet and smiled warmly; I was in a good place.

Then the cracking of my body started. Although I stopped counting once I got to double digits, I'm fairly certain that my extremities made noise approximately 37 times over the course of the hour. As the the session entered it's final quarter, Poi really started to take out her aggression on my lower back; every muffled groan of mine was met with a giggle from her. As she was walking on my hamstrings (and I mean literally walking, I may as well have been her treadmill), a girl who looked to be about 18 years old emerged from the back room. She proceeded to lay down on the vacant bed next to me and gaze deeply into my eye (I specify "eye" as I was only able to keep one open because the other was buried in the depths of the mattress).

After about 10 seconds of staring, the mildly attractive young lady gestured at my mangled body and coyly said, "You beautiful." Ooookkk. After a brief pause, she "self-corrected" (teaching term for those not familiar with the lingo), instead changing her compliment to the more appropriate "handsome." Now, I am perfectly comfortable with my appearance and would even be willing to claim that I am not ugly. However, I was a slightly confused by a girl lauding me as "beautiful" and "handsome" given my rather dishevelled state. I was forced to draw one of two conclusions: either I am so good-looking that I look "beautiful" even while being put in a sleeper hold by a small Thai woman; or there were some not so savory implications being made by the young lass. Nevertheless, I managed to mutter some sort of expression of gratitude (although I'm sure it was incomprehensible given the face plant that I was pressed into) and assumed that was the end of the exchange. Obviously, it wasn't.

The girl continued to lie on the bed and smile demurely at me as Poi entered the final phase of her mission to turn my body into a human pretzel (mission thoroughly accomplished). Upon the massage's conclusion, Poi went to the back of the shop to make some complimentary jasmine tea, thus allowing the girl an opportunity to introduce herself as "Beeyah" (Side note: under normal circumstances I wouldn't have found this humorous, but since I have been living in a dormitory with a bunch of Australians, it sounded like she was saying the word "beer" with an Aussie accent. Like those old Foster's commercials, but worse. Actually, this might only be funny to me so I'll just move on).

I reciprocated by introducing myself and we settled into a disjointed banter of mispronouncing each other's names and me botching several attempts to employ basic Thai phrases. In short, it was magical and I was my usual suave self. A few minutes later, Poi returned and served the tea. She then pointed at Beeyah and said "She beautiful" (in case you're wondering, I am not trying to set the world record for number of times "beautiful" can be used in quotations within a single blog post). I was again forced to agree that the girl was "beautiful" while nodding my head and awkwardly grinning. Shortly thereafter, three more masseuses sauntered out to the front and joined Poi in the "calling Beeyah beautiful game." The tea was too hot to gulp so I was forced to half-heartedly participate in their shenanigans.

As I tried to expeditiously consume my tea, the Muay Thai fight that had been glowing on the television screen for the entire duration of my massage suddenly went to a commercial...

For breast enhancement. The rather explicit advertisement primarily consisted of women in bikinis jumping around and shaking their newly augmented bosoms. For the next two minutes (it was a commercial/mini-infomercial, apparently), the awkwardness level reached its apex as I sat in a dark massage parlor with five Thai women watching scantily-clad females shake their breasts; all while being forced to continue praising young Beeyah's natural beauty. I slammed the rest of the tea as it was clearly time for me to depart.

Ultimately, because of this absurd confluence of factors (and because of the beating my body took), I walked home with a rather wobbly gait and a thoroughly dazed look on my "beautiful" face. Ahhh, Thailand.

Culinary Adventures

This video is long overdue and it is only because of my utter lack of technological acumen that it has not been shared until now. However, I have somehow figured out how to post it and you can now view the video record of me sampling the "unique" Thai delicacy of red ants. Apparently, they can only be collected at a certain time of the year and that time was now. I lucked out once again. (Side note: I have posted the video on the blog and included the link to it on Google Video at the bottom of the post. The former offers the convenience of viewing it on the same web page while the latter has a much bigger picture. As you know, I'm all about giving people options.)

The scene is not one from "Fear Factor Thailand," but rather from lunch at the restaurant of one of our students. His name is Dr. Sali and he is the gentleman in the red shirt laughing hysterically (to the point that he has a coughing fit) throughout the video. He is a notorious jokester (in addition to being a doctor) and took great pleasure in watching me squirm before I forced a few ants (and eggs) down my gullet. I wasn't going to eat any, but a few of the girls had taken some down earlier in the meal and, in an effort to avoid being totally emasculated, I decided to dig into the pile of insects. In short, I had live ants and their unborn children for lunch. I think that's all there is to say so enjoy.

Cultural Offerings

To all the die hard fans who have been refreshing the Ramblings every hour in the hopes of finding a new post, I sincerely apologize. However, if you become a "follower" of the blog, then you will be conveniently notified when I have something else to ramble about. And you'll be feeding my ego. Anyway, your sleepless nights can now cease as I should be able to put up a few overdue posts in the next few days. My excuses for not having the time to write include teaching, snorkeling, kayaking, riding in song theaws (pictured above, they function as multi-person taxis), and generally adopting a "Thai time" schedule. Tough life, I know. As such, I have not had the chance to relay a few of my more "interesting" Thai experiences until now.

A few weeks ago, a group of us ventured out into the cosmopolitan mecca of Ao Luk in search of the best cultural offerings that our adopted hometown had to offer. After learning that both the Ao Luk Symphony Orchestra and the Ao Luk Opera were on indefinite hiatuses, we opted to go to a karaoke bar. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. We went to two karaoke bars. After a thoroughly satisfying dinner, we proceeded down the dark main road and were drawn into the first watering hole by the faint sound of music echoing from behind a stone barrier. We ascended the stairs and took hold of what lay before us on the open-air deck. Despite our efforts to find some wholesome fun, we had stumbled into what appeared to be some sort of combination of a go-go bar and a family restaurant. Oh, they had karaoke too, but you had to be Thai, a woman and clad in a bikini in order to participate (0 for 3 for me). Despite the minimal attire of the waitresses and "singers," a large portion of the restaurant's patrons that evening were families. A far cry from my youth spent watching the singing animals at Chucky Cheese, these families instead enjoy watching bored-looking Thai women in bathing suits sing karaoke. And sing poorly, I might add. Growing increasingly uncomfortable in sharing the room with the leering waitresses, we decided to down our beers and find alternative entertainment for the rest of the evening.

Feeling slightly dazed after one of the more surreal experiences of my journey, I was convinced that the next locale would HAVE to be bit more conventional in both its karaoke offerings and the dress code of its wait staff. I was wrong. Located next door, we entered a small shed that housed a karaoke machine, a handful of tables and a large contingent of Thai "girly boys" encompassing the perimeter of the bar. What's a Thai "girly boy"? Quite simply, they are Thai young men whose gender is not easily discerned at first glance. I have been told that since Thai boys are rather effeminate in both their personal mannerisms and their interactions with one another, becoming a "girly boy" is a natural progression of sorts. Initially, I thought that such a concentration of "girly boys" in one locale must be an unusual occurrence. How many could there be? However, my mind was changed when I recently saw a restaurant advertisement for an all-you-can-eat buffet. There was a rate for men, women/children, aaannnddd girly boys. If you have your own price level at a buffet, you've clearly established a presence.

Back to the evening at hand. As we entered the shed/bar, the girly boys gradually began to move to one corner, leaving the karaoke machine unattended. Now, I always jump at the chance to belt out a spirited rendition of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" or "Love Bites" (invariably followed by a standing ovation from the awestruck crowd), but I am completely unfamiliar with the skills necessary to harmonize in the Thai dialect. Thai is a very tonal-based language. However, their karaoke seems to focus less on singing and more on incorporating electronic instruments and bizarre action sequences into the videos. But what struck me as the oddest element of the scene was the non-involvement of the audience. As we sat there not being served drinks (there apparently was no wait staff), none of the locals got up to sing. Instead, all of the patrons seemed to enjoy just watching the videos. After devoting a good 30 seconds of thought to it, I reasoned that MTV's tentacles must not have yet reached Thailand and the locals have instead made going to the karaoke bar the popular alternative. I know that makes no sense, but neither did the events of the night.

We stayed a while, practiced our Thai (greetings and numbers mostly) and eventually made our way back home. But not before my buddy Sean tried to practice his Thai skills with a dog he thought was tied to a pole. It wasn't. Needless to say, we walked at a brisker pace until arriving back safely. Yet another strange evening in Thailand.