Blog 12 - Yet More Goodbyes

So, yesterday was my final day at the Boat Building College. I will no longer be spoiled with late starts in the mornings and a refreshing cycle to work in the morning. Although, I was on the route the lorries take, so many mornings I was first covered in red dust and then hosed with water on my way there, so every cloud. The morning started off like any other, 9 o’clock start but today was a free day, so no teaching. I spent most of it with Jack and Ruchanoo, one of the accounting students who’s very talented at English. We read through a guide to English, them pronouncing the words and me correcting them, and then correcting the book when it made a mistake. “I’m tall 180 centimetres”... Really?

There was then an assembly, where I listened to some very important Thai men say very important things, except I couldn’t understand a word they were saying and Jack couldn’t translate much without seeming rude. However, the chairs were comfy and there was free Cola, so I can’t complain. Things livened up with the traditional Thai farewell ceremony. The object of attention looks kind of like a few silver bowls stacked together with some folded banana leaves poking out. Upon these leaves are white threads. A monk dressed in white sang into a mic for a little while, again, probably important but I have no idea, before the Thais shouted something a few times. Then they all laughed, I was very confused. After this, the holy man tied the white threads around the wrists of teachers and I and the students went into some frenzy of their own. The white threads are for protection (from what I understand), they must stay on for at least three days before the effect lasts for however many years. Kind of like a passive skill in Dragon Age. I think maybe one person will get that reference.

Pictured: Holy man

We’ve done the ceremony a couple of times with Pookie and Sabine whenever a volunteer leaves, so it wasn’t much new to me. Though, it was still nice to be part of something. The students went about tying threads like they were going out of fashion, the teachers, monk and directors were all besieged for a thread, I think getting one from someone important makes it all the more lucky. I even tied a few, which was scary and confusing. Among teachers who have helped them for years and directors that run entire schools, some students chose a Kentish lad. Bewildering.

A clever girl going to a proper teacher

Then came prize giving. I still shudder to think of it from my school, and this was far, far worse. I was presented with a certificate, all well and good. I smiled for the cameras, gave respect to the vice director, totally normal things. I sat down, happy and proud, then Jack announced my name again and beckoned. I ambled back over to the stage, where he told me to do a two minute speech about my time. Off the cuff, without preparation, without wetting myself. So, I im-provved a little speech, which went down a storm. By the beard of Zeus, it seemed to be ok. I introduced myself with a little “sawadee krub” (polite hello), wittered for a little while, and finished with a “kawp koon krub” (polite thank you). They went wild for it, Jack told me it was a great honour from me to speak a little bit of Thai, no matter how much I mangled their beautiful language with my barbaric accent. Then, lunch.

Seen here: a director, a person they should have gone to

After a little more tuition of Ruchanoo it was time to go, I said goodbye to Jack and thanked him for his help. Then I gave him my presents, a couple of books on English idioms and a book on speaking English quickly, both things he is interested in. He smiled and thanked me, then I was on my way home. Sad face. Myself and Matthias had been invited to an end of term party that evening, so at 6:30 (arranged at 6:00) we were picked up and taken to the house of Manasaporn, another of my eldest set. She’s also very talented at English, though entirely ting tong (crazy). Thai parties consist of mainly chatting, insulting everyone who isn’t a farang and eating unholy amounts of food. Today was no exception. There were roughly fifteen (sib ha) of us and the first hour was spent of talking with my students and laughing along every time the lady boys had a fight. Then, food. Wonderful food. It was tom yum soup, but Thai style. Essentially, it’s like fish fondue, there’s a scalding hot pot of water with lemon grass, ginger, mint and other delicacies mixed in. You dump a load of lettuce and noodles in to cook then dip in fish until it’s how you like it. When I sat down, I immediately helped myself to a mouthful of almost raw fish. Ruchanoo, who was looking after me and trying to stop me from doing stupid stuff, for example eating raw fish, was aghast but another of my students looked delighted and shouted “sushi!”.

After roughly nine plates (remember, this is Thailand, I was being respectful) I was finally full. After helping tidy up and being flat out banned from washing up I told them about my plans for after school.

For those not in the know, which is everyone but my family, I’m going to a small village to teach at the local school for a fortnight. The village is called Tha Bor and it’s a fair clip from Nong Khai. I told everyone about this and one of the girls, who drives a pick-up truck had the bright idea to take us all there to look around. We agreed, and before I knew it we were speeding down the roads seated in the back of a pick-up laughing and discussing how feminine Matthias looked. For the record, not that feminine. As he tried to tell that to the Thais, without success. I had no idea where we were or where we going, but still having a great time. We arrived in Tha Bor, where Matthais called Pookie and asked which school I was going to. She couldn’t remember, but asked me “what’s gone wrong?” “what has happened?” and “are you ok?”. I assured her I hadn’t been kidnapped and I was having a good time. Bless Pookie, she’s far too nice.

We reached Tha Bor, roamed around for a while and were sidetracked by a local music concert. Free entry, so, why not? The music was what I expected from Thailand. They seem to be permanently stuck in the 90s. Girl groups, boy groups that can’t sing and just look cute and male singers wetter than India in July. On the stage was a wet singer, who seemed to be accompanied by half naked dancers, for a reason I can’t fathom  apart from “aren’t boobs awesome”. His singing voice did not suit the presence of dancers one bit. Imagine if Dido was escorted by strippers, or even Enya. It was a bit off-putting, they music was too slow to dance to and they just did their own thing. They were all a beat behind or ahead of the music and all seemed to be doing different things. To make matters more confusing, Thai men began handing them money, which bewildered me. Are we at a concert or an open air strip joint with singers?

Still, I enjoyed soaking up the culture. A freakishly tall Thai man walked into me and attempted to pick my pockets, I think. Either that or he wanted to cop a quick feel. Either way, I’m wearing fatigues, bitch. In typical Thai fashion, we’d had a massive meal, but Manasaporn picked up some gigantic biscuits, which were like plate-sized prawn crackers, except sweet. We then began the drive home, still chatting about how beautiful Matthias is and eventually dropped us off. At the end of it, a fantastic evening, and something I hope to remember for a long time.  

Adventures of Henry - Return of the Sculpture Garden

I returned to the sculpture garden with the new volunteers, and with more confidence, got ever better shots with Henry, and even more odd looks from monks.

"Left, now, go to third gear, wait, you should have indicated. Man, stone dog's can't drive"

I have no idea what is going on, but it looks painful

Now, serene and calm

I need a spear

And I thought your mother's ass was fat

Taking in the sights

If an elephant man offers you a "ride on his rat"... just say no

"And the monkey king goes for the kick!"

Try not to draw on my bear, he isn't machine washable

Well, this is awkward

Shouldn't he be wearing body armour? It's like modern day Aztecs

I am indifferent to your suffering

There's the bear! Oh, wait. He's on my crotch. Clever girl

Now,you didn't think Hannibal looked like this?

Wow,do you work out?

Stop crying, I didn't hit you that hard

Blog 11 - Goodbyes

Today (19/02/11) I said goodbye to two of the volunteers. Emily and Eva. Both will be sorely missed, mainly because with Emily's absence, I'm the only white non-German left in the vicinity. Represent!
It was also Matthias' 19th birthday, so happy birthday Matthias.
Thailand will be much quieter without them, and without Eva definately much dirtier. She likes a clean kitchen, I like to see how many plates I can stack in the sink. Eva is much scarier than I am. Sink gets cleaned. It worked perefectly.

They couldn't leave without saying goodbye to Henry

Emily continues her travels

Travelling "light"

Happy 19th Matthias

Possibly one of my favourite shots

Blog 10 - Clothes and Anthems

Well, I officially give up trying to buy Thai men’s clothes.  Thai women’s clothes – pretty easy to find. I’ve got some lovely shorts and scarves for people back home. However, most Thai men will wear western clothes - jeans, t-shirts and button down shirts with American flags. I’m not travelling 11,000 miles to buy cheap jeans – that’s what TK Max is for. Most men only wear shorts for work and the only people here wearing loose and flowing parachute pants are foreigners trying to blend in. The traditional (I assume) be-toggled jackets and shirts are for women, again not perfect. So, I give up, even if I found the most perfect long shorts I’ve seen woven by the king himself, it’ll pale in comparison to the knowledge I bring back. I know I sound like a twatty student who “found themselves” in the bars of Bangkok, but then again I am a twatty soon-to-be student who got lost in the bars of Bangkok.

To rope this wandering point back on track, I’m spending a week in March/April doing a government-accredited course in massage (I get a certificate and everything!) and in May I have my five day cookery course by the Thai version of Jamie Oliver. Honestly, men’s clothes can go take a ride on a comet, bring on Pad Thai and acupressure. Still, there is one look here I’m dragging back. The triangle “Bandito” scarf look. I’ve brought five thus far, three thick for winter and two silk ones for summer. A.K.A the rest of my trip. They’re really handy when cycling, especially with the flies and dust in Nong Khai. They also cover up my unsightly... well... face. Plus, they keep your neck warm.

I’m also putting this down to more than 30 hours straight of Red Dead Redemption last June. I gain no notoriety when wearing them.

Last Monday marked my final week of teaching. Thai schools break up for their summer holiday in March, and come back in mid May, by which point I’ll be gone and setting fire to a kitchen somewhere. So from March until infinity, well, three months from now, I will be going to the orphanage every weekday to spread the healing power of hugs and allowing my camera to be abused. It’s an 8 o’clock wake up every day, which will be a shock from my spoiled existence of 10am starts for three days a week. A hard day of back breaking toil will... oh wait, we come home at about 1pm. I have time for an afternoon nap. Then maybe I’ll write to the Daily Mail about how much I hate immigrants and take my incontinence medicine.

As well as fashion trends that died out in 1910 (if Red Dead is to be believed) I’m searching for cheap snacks that won’t give me heart disease. My normal diet of budget brand Oreos is delicious, but more self destructive than writing a blog filled with self-deprecating humour. Bread is also good, but I can polish off half a loaf and lick the plate clean of crumbs before having the leftovers. Then buy more biscuits

Finally, very embarrassing moment whilst at school. I was asked about the English National Anthem, I said I’d think about it, but whilst I did, could they sing the Thai version? So a boy proudly sang in a beautiful voice the entire Anthem with a smile on his face. Then, I stumbled through the first verse before admitting I knew only “God save our gracious queen” – try it at home, can you sing all the verses? Thought not.

Although, I like to think my lack of national pride is something that defines me, along with a borderline pathological hatred of tobacco and tendency to trip over nothing. However, I have nothing against the National Anthem, it’s pretty good. And naught against the Queen, she’s a sterling lady. So, I’ve just downloaded the lyrics and plan to sing it in class on Thursday. As any true red-blooded Englishman should.

Wait... isn’t the name Toynbee actually French?

And finally :

*Giggles*

Adventures of Henry - At English Camp

"Ok, what is he doing?"

Pictured: Disinterest

They got the point - posers

She looks confused

Jureeporn and I

Henry - looking cool in the back of a pick-up

Watching TV in the minibus to the school. Trying to organise photos in order is tricky, ok?

Sabine posing - she likes Henry

Matthias and Eva - wreathed in shadow

Again, but I learned how to use flash

Ratana - she fancies me

Jureeporn, again, posing

Blog 9 - English Camp

I’m right now on the minibus taking us to English camp. We number me, the Germans – Mattias, Sabine and Eva, James an American ex-pat and some Thai officials from the school. Apparently the driver is a professional. That means he’s allowed to watch music videos whilst driving. There’s a screen built into the dash board. We’re in a triple carriage way. Eep.

I’m probably going to narrate this day by day and post the whole thing up when I get back to Nong Khai so:

Day 1 – I don’t know what to think. They contacted Sabine for volunteer slightly more than a fortnight ago and have changed the dates twice since. And added an extra day when we boarded the minibus. I don’t know the accommodation yet, we could be in separate rooms, we could be in tents. We could be fed free every meal, we might get breakfast. We might have internet connection I might be forced to find an internet cafe to send my mum updates that I’m still alive and haven’t contracted hyper-maleria or turbo-dengue-fever. We’re cramped in a minibus, with about 2 hours ahead of us. Time to crank up the Spektor and watch the Tesco Lotus’, Seven Elevens and KFCs flash by. 

A few hours later, we arrived at Sriboonruangwittayakarn School. Where they got confused over where we were eating.

Second Day – I’m in two minds. The teachers and students are impossible to dislike. They seem like a very tight community. The teachers are friendly, very interested in who we are and where we come from. Many of them just wanted to chat about a very different culture to their own. It started with a giant sing song and dance – rarely a good idea in my books, however the sheer enthusiasm helped stop me smacking my head against the brick work.

We were assigned groups, me with Ratana and the unfortunately named Jureeporn, Ratana having been teaching for over a decade and Juree having only been out of university for a few years. Both were very friendly and I found myself with the best activity available – the treasure hunt. Basically I sat on my arse for 10 minutes and told students “yes that is a stick” or “no, that isn’t a straw”. However, there was almost no time for actually questions from students and they only had to repeat words they were told – hardly teaching. 

Another daily grind...

After a lunch, described in the least as hearty, afternoon activities continued. More sitting in the shade answering questions about how dull Kent is. Then we all congregated in the hall, for that horror that has persisted since childhood. Group dances. There were these silly songs about finding your group, marching and shooing flies. Each one had a little dance to do, which we did as a group. Still, to quote Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, a twat looking like a twat in a vast group of people looking like twats blends in more than the loner twat. What was more horrific was “vegetable swing”. You dangle a large unripe banana between your legs and use it to bat a lime across the hall.

Pictured: Sport

The trick I found was to bend low and use the banana to skid rather than swing, you get more control and a cleaner hit. Honestly, I think I’ve stumbled across the best drinking game of all time. Six people stumbling about with a green banana tied to their nether regions as they attempt to hit a small object on the floor? Add a kitten and you have a YouTube sensation. Hell, up the stakes. Each participant carries with them a bottle of their choice, each time you hit the lime, take a swig.

Then we danced with the teachers, not quite sure why. I offered a more sedate waltz with Ratana and Juree, sweeping them off their feet. Though that could have been the slippery floor and high heels.

We left at around 4, being driven home and warned not to walk alone, as there were no tuk-tuks around for when it got dark. We assumed the school were trying to scare the ignorant farangs and walked the kilometre or two to find dinner. We were then arrested. A man in shorts and a sports shirt driving a pick-up with his girlfriend demanded to see our Thai ID cards – something foreigners don’t get even if they marry a Thai girl. We refused of course, many of these people will look, mention how it’s invalid and demand a few hundred baht to “solve” the problem. He called someone on his phone and eventually (20 minutes on the side of a road) two patrolmen arrived, checked our passports and left. Apparently they were looking for someone. We then returned to the oldest of man’s rituals... well, one of the oldest, and foraged for food. And kind of failed, but we stumbled across a pork and rice shop for a decent dinner. Then, we found no tuk-tuks. We walked to the market, nothing. Looked up and down the road, nothing. Normally a white person can’t cross the road without a tuk-tuk driver offering a lift, but five of us walking down the motorway didn’t attract any taxi-esque attention. We also made the decision not to go on the bus tour. Each of us felt “meh” about the whole situation, and twenty hours with five coach loads of children, and having to be ready by 2am deserved rather more than a “meh”. So, we retire for the night, and prepare for our last day of teaching. Dibs not singing.

Day 3 – more singing!

But I had gone to bed at around 8pm so I could actually maintain coherent thought processes. On the accommodation; we assume it’s a sex hotel. In a country where whole families can share a couple of rooms it can be tricky to get some alone time, but of course there’s the good old fashioned “hire a room by the hour and get jiggy with the nearest prostitute” that civilisation was built on.

James first raised a warning sign – there was a large curtain over the parking garage, in small towns it’s easy to recognise your co-worker’s car – and that’s not his wife! He also gave some sage advice – hotels with numbers for names will be a sex hotel. I’m trying to remember the hotels from all my school trips, see if any long repressed memories surface. Still, Eva left her room locked, and returned to find a condom wrapper in her bin, which she swears isn’t hers. I found a pink wrapper under the bed, which is apparently colour coded for small. Made me giggle. Then weep openly and without shame about where I was. But hey, free internet. Which I of course abused by downloading the entire back catalogue of “The Bugle”.

We told the teachers we weren’t staying for the bus journey, which was well received. They get a day off. I passed another day managing the treasure hunt and took a few photos with Henry, with mixed reactions. We also had appalling breakfast; it’s called congee and is a kind of rice porridge with pork bits. Yum! Our first morning was cheap doughnuts and more shredded bloody pork sandwiches, next morning we had a traditional breakfast. Some traditions should just die out, like witch ducking and poking the village idiot for entertainment.

Because my students were the last sitting down, me and Ismo were punished – we were forced to have dance off. Kind of like Step Up, but with less twatty clothes, less twatty people and more twatty dancing. I did my usual “beautiful tree in the wind” routine, lots of arm waving and swaying but little in the way of actual movement. When I ran dry of ideas, I copied the group dancers in some very uncoordinated 70s style moves. I think I won, though Ismo got many cheers. Something about a rotund man in a tight T-shirt doing the hot potato stirs something primal in the human mind. 

Dance Dance Revolution!

With more bloody singing out the way and more bloody dancing, by this point Eva broke down from exhaustion and a heavy overdose on forced happiness, Matthias was physically sick of papaya salad and Sabine looked like she would punch the next child who asked to sing a song about marching. The day ended with more bloody vegetable swinging, where I lost patience and kicked the lime after a minute of fruitless swinging. Eva declined for moral reasons and Matthias struggled bravely to the end. Egged on by the announcer grunting like a woman in the throes of... tennis... whilst swinging a vegetable from her crotch.

That dragged on for the best part of an hour, where we said goodbye. Matthias and I were besieged by girls wanting photographs (I got 50+, but who’s counting?) and Eva heroically rallied to smile with some of the braver boys. We were presented with a large shawl of fabric, which I swear is a rug, unless it’s a shawl created for Jabba the Hut, and a fold out tissue paper holder. They’re big in Asia. I’m keeping them for my uni room, will be more original than an anarchy symbol and an empty Kingfisher bottle. Actually took me a minute of thinking to remember the name of a beer brand.

We had a long journey back, with a much more lacklustre minibus that before. We were spoilt by efficient air con, LCD screens and adequate legroom. We abandoned James at the Udon Thani Tesco Lotus, I really hope his friend picked him up and he isn’t still there living off a diet of own brand Cola and crisps.

Here follows my summing up of this eclectic three days:

The Staff – were amazing.

Banrith (Rich) was an amazing woman of 35, speaking very good English and being generally funny and a joy to work with. She always smiled and always tried to force food upon us, which is one of the best ways to get on my good side.

Ratana (Nina) fell in love with me, no joke. A woman of middle years who’s been teaching for nearly 20 years. She presented me with a fabulously camp purple and green bag her daughter made, it is right now replaced my unfortunate Plain Lazy bag for day to day travels. She was brilliant, funny and spoke great English. She wants me to come back next year, I had to explain I had uni. She then replied that it’s only two days. I told her I’d think about it.

Jureeporn (Juree) – was a very polite and well mannered young woman who assisted Ratana. I always got the feeling she wanted to be a bit more chatty and open, but felt restricted by her position as a teacher. I would have liked to talk to her more, but never got the chance between her issuing orders, being generally efficient and the very model of Thai organisation. She opened up a lot more on the last day, though I had to beckon for her to get a photo with us, I don’t think she’d have felt it appropriate to join uninvited. 

The Students – were also great. The vast majority (70%) were girls, and all were hard workers and very eager to learn. However, I think it was dulled by most of the “teaching” being boring repetition and hands on activities – fun, but not educational. Still, a few dozen girls now have new Facebook profile pictures, so I consider my job well done. One more thing me and Robert Pattinson have in common, both of us are loved by teenage girls, both of us make very unconvincing vampires and neither of us can act. Mixed in were a few very unconvincing ladyboys – it’s not the Adam’s Apple that gives them away, it’s the hairy legs.

The Associates – Lawrence, James (English, not American) and Ismo, a very portly Finnish gentleman. Ismo was a very loud and proud guy who was constantly eating but was happy to have a dance off with me and James seemed like me in 50 years, or so I hope. Unbowed by age, quiet on the border of anti-social and with a certain dry wit and sarcasm about him that I found refreshing. All he needed was a Trilby hat and I could be looking into the future. A silver fox in all but bushy tail. Still, all were a little obsessed with how I got a three month Visa.

The Actual Teaching – diddly squat. To put it politely. All English commands were followed by a Thai translation, all teaching was limited to the point of non-existence and the songs were mindless drivel like if Willow Smith joined forces with Beiber to create the most mind-numbing and vapid music since S Club 7. “Shoo Fly”, “English Camp go marching in” and “I am happy, you are happy” with too many “friends found” for my misanthropic tendencies. 

Pictured: Education

It was a fun couple of days, but I don’t know how much we actually taught them, or if they’ll remember anything of what we said. Maybe we will fade in to lore, that tall twat with bad dance moves and a silly accent no one understood. Merely a face in a photograph or the object of a middle aged woman’s fantasy.

Hey! Another connection with Pattinson!

I have no idea what I am doing. Or why they keep talking to us

Blog 8 - Feasts and something else that rhymes with feasts. And isn't beasts

Celebrated Chinese new year in proper Thai style... don’t think to hard about that statement. With an early start we turned up to the minibus park with mixed feelings. We had no idea what was happening and how the day would turn out.

Not a great start to be honest, the minibus left without us, forcing us to walk up a busy motorway to try and catch a bus. Luckily, the hosts were driving past and picked us up, saving a heck of a long walk. This is where I was introduced to Lun and Sam – the couple that were running the show. We arrived to their house slightly crushed, Mattias and I are both of a height – I know for a fact my knees seized up. Still, great first impressions – a beautiful house, a fusion of Thai and Western style. I know that sounds like a wankey architecture student bullshitting his way through finals, but it was a stunning place. A traditional Thai entrance, with a minimalist approach that was a contrast to the marble counter-top, mugs of coffee and plush sofa adjoining a lavish study. I had my first taste of “Cereal”. Breakfast in a mug!! Well, in theory.

It tasted decent, I could see myself living off it in uni. Then again I can see myself living off moisture licked from park benches at uni if it pays for a train to Kent. Imagine own brand porridge, watered down significantly and with roughly a plantation’s worth of sugar added, another of Thailand’s running list of “FUCK YOU’S!!!” to diabetics. I could compile a month’s worth of blogs with those.

Still, filled the hole where a stale bread roll and crappy butter didn’t quite satisfy. When I arrived, we were greeted by a traditional Chinese celebration, kinda like something out of Mulan. Four shrines to the ancestors, one for each direction and each laden with food. And whisky, as Sabine attended to.

And when I say laden, I mean buckerroo just before he kicks. Whole chickens and ducks, bowls of rice, peanut brittles, sweets and a mix of soft drinks for the non-alcoholic ancient spirit. Ironic really. We then proceeded to each one, lighting and planting incense as we went. As well as instructing the ancestors on what to eat. Personal recommendation – the duck was fantastic. But more on that later.

We then retired to the house for a while to let the incense burn down completely – then the fun began. Lun is Thai-Chinese – a relatively common mix in this part of Thailand. So we go by Chinese rules. And that means fire, lots and lots of fire. They burn symbolic wealth for the ancestors, in return for it to come back to them in the real world. So, we burned gold boats, paper clothes and a metric fuckton of fake money. £10,000,000,000 notes were the staple, with a few paltry $10,000s thrown in with a smattering of fake gold coins. Apparently Lun’s brother burns a brand new Mercedes Benz every year. For you doubters – he’s able to buy a new sports car every year – he can’t be doing badly. If I become a multi-trillionaire in the next few months, I can thank the Asian ancestors I never knew I had. That was fun, anything with fire is fun. Well, except for the Vietnam war.

Then, we settled down to feast. All the food must be eaten, so I grudgingly complied. Roasted ducks, boiled chickens, stir fries by the wok, buckets of rice and bowls of fresh fruit. The duck was cooked to perfection, the chicken was succulent, the stir fry full of flavour and crunch and the sauce was the best I’ve ever had. And I’ve had a lot of sweet chilli sauce. We settled down to honour the ancestors. And I did seven platefuls of honouring. Then the fruit had to be eaten, half a melon, a handful of lychees and three bananas later I considered the ancestors honoured to the brim. Though, Lun loaded us down with bags of peanut brittles and couple of portions of poultry and a selection of fresh fruit.

 This was only about half of it

My pathetic attempt to justify the marathon gorge now follows. In many Asian cultures – Thailand included – the best guest is one who clears a plate and asks for more. Ergo, I was the greatest guest, I cleared probably half the table. Also Thai food is impossible to get fat on. I didn’t get the disgusted bloaty feeling one gets from Western food.

However, what eclipsed the food was Lun herself. She was a truly amazing woman. A UN care worker for roughly 27 years, she’s one of the most talented in Thailand. She spent her early years helping Laos residents out of their war torn country. Considering Laos had a Socialist uprising that remains to this day, that’s quite a feat. She’s spent time in Africa founding healthcare camps and refugee sanctuaries. Then, she told us of her mother. Diagnosed with bronchitis and lung cancer, she was given a week to live. Lun prayed to Buddha, got an answer and stayed with her mother, sacrificing a $70,000 job in Africa. Practically living in the hospital, her mother lasted three years, dying near the day she was first diagnosed.

As after dinner speakers go, she outranks Tony Blair any day. Also, she liked my Trilby hat. What a woman.

So, we left, and it wasn’t even lunch time. Who’s up for a pad-Thai?

Adventures of Henry - A Very Special Henry Post

What's this? A present? For little 'ol me?

Wonderful! What sort of amazing woman would send me this?

Very slimming. Someone in England deserves a hug