Photo Blog - All About The Benjamins

20 Baht - really common and my wallet is normally full of them

Will buy you: A BANANA PANCAKE, couple of rolls for breakfast, my week's laundry

50 Baht - uncommon as change is normally in 20s and 100s.

Will buy you: a cheap T-Shirt, a notebook, a meal at a restaurant

100 Baht - very common, kind of like the 100s in Monopoly

Will buy you:all you can eat BBQ, a whole roast chicken

500 Baht - same as a 50, change is normally given in 100s

Will buy you: posh clothes from a posh shop, some cheap sunglasses, a male prostitute (from what I've heard)

1000 Baht - generally only given from banks

Will buy you: the hatred of a 7/11 cashier as you buy a 30 baht loaf of break and ask for change, enough (frugal) food for a fortnight, a pair of "The Guard" fatigues (worth every saatang)

Blog 16 - Orphange Smhorphange

This week has been a big improvement on last. To say the least. I’ve spent most of my time at the orphanage, back to a semblance of normality. We’ve done some stone painting, I declined. We didn’t have many stones and I’d already painted a penguin the time before. It was an amazing penguin reminiscent of the Linux mascot. They had a great time, even though most of them just painted it one colour then added some dots. We then played egg and stone races, which suffered some outrageous cheating.

The day after concerned beads. I was suddenly 4 again, with a desperate urge to eat bits of plastic and throw them at the fat kid with glasses. However, I refrained and utilised my GCSE in Art to create a bracelet with symmetrical patterns and a knot tied at a precisely middle point. It was perfect. Whilst I was doing this, the kids amused themselves with throwing beads and trying to garrotte each other. I’m still wearing my bracelet without irony, I’m actually pretty proud about how it turned out. There were plenty of spillages of the yoghurt pots containing beads, of course. It’s part of the fun, and the magical sound of plastic rattling on floor tiles. Something to give pre-school teachers Vietnam-like PTSD.

Thursday was great fun. Colouring! I coloured a picture of a fat frog with a small frog. However, many of the pencils had been appropriated for improvised shivs, so some colours were substituted. Meaning purple bushes and blue mountains. Still, it gave a sense of the unnatural which strongly juxtaposed the natural image whilst unsettling the viewer leading them to question how they sense the outside world in a purely superficial way. Coincidently, that’s also how I described my art coursework after I’d spilt paint on it. I spent a lot of time colouring in-between the lines and only colouring in one direction, meaning my training at Head Start pre-school still remains.

Friday was the biggest doss, we arrived at 9am, sat down in the cinema, watched a film, then got up and left. Time well spent. The film was The Town, I remind you, a 15 certificate. Ten minutes in, you’ve seen a bank robbery, a hostage situation, a man have his head beaten in with a rifle butt, a stripper and a couple getting jiggy. All interspersed with more “fucks” and “cunts” than parliament. So, I think you’d agree, the perfect film for 8 year olds. I was expecting “Shrek: Forever After”, still, not a bad film. Ending left a lot to be desired though.

We were greeted when we got home by the fact that Jonas’ (Pookie’s son) hamsters had escaped, one had been found in Sabine’s cat’s mouth and the other is AWOL. The one found spending quality time with the Maxi survived, amazingly. This was when I found it’d been living in a plastic jar for nearly two weeks. I assumed they’d found a cage for it in the near month since he’d brought it. Nope, still in a ten inch² plastic jar with no lid, no sawdust and no water bottle. Matthias and I pretty much gave up at this point, though miraculously one of Jonas’ friend’s (too many bloody apostrophes) neighbours had a spare hamster cage. Pookie had finally brought some sawdust, so Matthias and I fashioned a future board lining, poured in the sawdust and released the hamster. The change was instantaneous. It immediately began burrowing, digging and running around to its little heart’s content. I created a house out of a yoghurt pot and gave it a dark place to snuggle in. We put in some proper hamster food and sat back, chuffed. Now all it needs is a bottle and it might survive the month. Hopefully.

Building on last week’s coffee with Jira Nun, I returned to buy some T-Shirts and again got talking with Jira Nun. Which then led to her inviting me for lunch, I agreed, obviously. I sat down with her, her cousin who designs the clothes and her brother, who speaks very good English. We enjoyed Vietnamese style food – spring rolls with Vietnamese sausage and peanut sauce with a side dish of noodle salad. I was there for about two hours, chatting with her and the staff. She then pressed some dried coconut and pumpkin into my hands and said she wanted me to come back sometime with Matthias. So, I dragged him along on Thursday. We enjoyed some fresh smoothies and talked about the upcoming Song Kran festival in April. Her children are coming home from LSE and she wants me to meet them. I was also introduced to her scheme for Japan. She’s selling T-Shirts raising money for the Japan relief program, aiming for 100,000 baht (roughly two grand). She’s already half way there in a few days, and more than a week to go. I have one, as does Matthias, a product of borderline emotional blackmail.

We also have said goodbye to Sabine for a while. She’s returned to Germany for a month, we had an all you can eat barbeque to bid a fond farewell. We hope that she won’t miss the perfect weather, glorious sunshine and Thai food.

And finally, another sign I found amusing. It’s a nearby internet cafe:

*giggles*

Blog 15 - Death and Taxes

It has not been a particularly happy week for us in Nong Khai. We had the dreaded news that one of the boys at the orphanage died over the weekend, he drowned in a nearby river. Therefore, there is not a lot I can say in a blog globally known for dry wit and droll sarcasm. His nickname was “Boy” and he was 8 years old, it was a real shame. We’ve spent the week at the orphanage making objects to his memory, a board full of pictures and decorations, a box filled with good wishes and hand drawn pictures. The box will be burnt at his funeral, a sort of Asian tradition. They often burn the possessions of the deceased, similar to the way the Chinese burn money and gifts for their ancestors.

The funeral is Sunday, and will be a harrowing experience in the least. The orphanage was in shock, for obvious reasons. But also the boys feared ghosts haunting them, I think they’re scared they might be lured to a fate similar to Boy’s. We taught them “Farang Magic” of clapping your hands and shouting “I’m strong, go away” to banish the ghosts, which seems to have helped. The mood has not been helped by the unseasonably bad weather for mid-March Thailand. All week it’s been raining and cold, I found myself spending most days with a T-shirt under my button-down, and had to wear gloves when typing so my fingers didn’t seize up. There were thunder storms on Monday and Tuesday, followed by relentless drizzle for most of the week. It was miserable and cold, and a far cry from the mid-30s temperature I’d gotten used to. It was the first time I’d spent a night wrapped in a blanket and with the windows shut. The weather broke on Friday afternoon, and right now it’s back to sun and warmth.

If I can make a break from the dreary subject matter, it’s been a good day so far. I met a Thai woman, the owner of a local shop, one that sells very high quality gifts for the tourist with some scratch knocking around. Carved statuettes, local wines, handmade clothes and the like. But also some wonderful t-shirts, which I intend to treat myself to once I’ve got cash to hand. The woman approached me and asked where I was from, I replied England, with one hand on my heart and humming the national anthem under my breath. She then told me of her son and daughter studying at the London School of Economics. Which was surprising, to say the least. She dragged out some photo albums of her in Piccadilly Circus, St. Paul’s and Regent Street with some youngish Thais. Honestly, I was gobsmacked. She then showed me pictures of her in Bath, standing on the roundabout next to the weir, at the cathedral, in the Bath Roman Houses, at the museum. We began talking about London and Bath, how impressed I was about her children making LSE and mentioned that I was teaching in nearby schools and orphanages. Now it was her turn to act surprised, and immediately bought me a coffee. So, I sat down, with hot black coffee and chatted about uni life and how beautiful London is. Her son is doing Social Politics, I think the daughter is as well, I said I’m doing Psychology, and we talked about her son’s interest in that too. I left after a while, I hadn’t got enough spare Baht to splash out on gifts just yet. I promised I’d be back, and that we can talk some more when I return. Sometimes, Thailand just knocks you on your arse.

The rest of the day was spent with Pookie, we’re preparing sticky rice for tomorrow, and I picked up a bamboo steamer, and Matthias also got a steaming tin, kind of like a saucepan with raised edges. Tomorrow morning, at some ungodly hour, we do sticky rice with coconut milk the proper Thai way, over a gas stove at 6 in the morning. I want to bring my steamer back, so I formulated a cunning plan.

Pictured - A puzzle!

Solved! "No officer, it's my traditional Nong Khai hat"

Cunning as a fox whose just been appointed professor of cunning at Oxford University, as one of the greatest living Brits once said.

Blog 14 - Meat and Greet

Oh my Lady Gaga, all you can eat Thai food is amazing. 

Q.E.D

On Saturday, Matthias, Pookie, her son Jonas and I visited an all you can eat restaurant. It’s a concept that would fail spectacularly in England, there’s a flimsy wooden table supporting a bucket of flaming coals above which is a hot domed pan where the food is cooked. Raw food, including chicken, seafood and shell fish. People drape meat across the pan, cook it how they like and scoff it down. I’m already seeing a law suit in our “enlightened” society.

Let's just all eat raw meat. That's a slogan I can hear inciting a mob

So as my knees were literally an inch away from flaming disfigurement I enjoyed roughly a small farm holding of meat, including beef, chicken, bacon and I even dabbled in squid and liver. All of it was delicious, whilst it was cooking I helped myself to some pre-cooked food, namely breaded chicken, French fries and popcorn chicken. There was a cycle, scoff down cooked food, enjoy the food I cooked to my crispy perfection before slapping some more in and chowing down on breaded chicken. It all cost 99 baht, which is quite expensive for a meal, but worth it. Considering how I could have survived for two days off it. 

Seen here: A fuckload of meat

I tried some Thai dessert, and am not really impressed. Instead of the Chinese method of simply deep frying fruit, Thai desserts are just plain odd. It’s normally a bowl of coconut milk, good start, before adding sweetened noodles dyed some freakish colours (bright radioactive green sweet noodles? Hold me back) with dyed pink dried banana and small balls of jelly, again dyed bright pink. All topped off with condensed, sweetened milk. By the legs of Athene, it was a mess. I opted out of adding ice, which just seems weird. Honestly, some coconut milk and fresh fruit would be perfect. But the texture was all over the place, the colour reminded me of a mutant off S.T.A.L.K.E.R and the taste was sweeter than a puppy genetically spliced with a teacup pig.

Ok, that seems odd but try writing analogies in 35^oC degree heat with no air conditioning. Still, awesome new movie idea.

After my bout of decadence I returned to Tha Bor for my final week of school. I arrived at around 7:30 and instead of Khamdee picking me up, his son was there on a scooter. Scooters are awesome, but on a hot day with a big bag and a fairly long journey over fairly rough roads it was far from perfect. Five minutes to the shops, great. 20 minutes cross country, not so great. Still, with all the slash and burned terrain, abandoned huts and pot holes the size of cauldrons, it was almost post-apocalyptic. I was listening to “The Road” at the time, which definitely gave me new insight to the novel. Still, I felt I should have been jogging cross country with a G36c slung over my back and wearing a gas mask.

My first day back consisted of me painting signs for the library. Just me, sat in the library with a paintbrush writing “Science” “Art” and “Social and Religion” on bits of plastic and remembering why I only scored a C in art GCSE. It kept me busy at least, then I researched my new favourite clothing brand “The Guard Original”. You know how much I love clothing with pseudo-military connotations? You don’t? Well, I do. “The Guard” sells nothing but thick long sleeved shirts with riot troops emblazoned and “THE GUARD” in heavy font on the sleeves and fatigues about an inch thick with SWAT style pockets. I could have spent my entire budget on that shop, seriously. I wouldn’t have even missed food that much, it’s awesome. If they have a shop in Nong Khai it’ll be my first looting destination once society goes the way of a dead goldfish. They have a site, but it’s all in Thai, I found an outlet based in the Netherlands which is in English at least. Please, come to England. I will single handedly keep you business afloat. That’s www.theguardoriginal.com for those who want to check it out. I brought myself a long sleeved shirt, which I predict will become my favourite very quickly.

Moving on from blatant product whoring (please give me free stuff) that evening I had a meal at a teacher’s house. With all the staff there, it was a typical Thai meeting. Obscene amounts of food, whisky flowing like red red krovy and every Thai seeing how much they could feed the farang. It’s a game for them. It was fish-based with sticky rice, onion soup, chilli dip and garnished with helpings of pork and liver. I enjoyed both green flavour Fanta and now purple flavour. Seriously, no flavour apart from “purple”, not a trace of fruit. I declined on the alcohol, which stunned most of the men and won me favour with most of the women. One in particular, a past middle aged woman pretty much flirted with me for the entire meal. Even after I told her I had a girlfriend. She then asked “how much?” to my bewilderment, then “how many?” I said “one”. I hope that was the right answer. A Thai (Ajah) I befriended rolled his eyes and said “my aunt, I’m very sorry”. I know the feeling.

The next day was spent writing more signs, though this time it was borderline Machiavellian slogans with commands written on them, like “be honest” and “don’t tell lies”.

No, please don't

I tried to slip some 1984 references in, but couldn’t find a way. Still, it felt like I was reporting for duty at MiniTruth. Myself and Kamdee’s son nailed them up to trees, along with those guilty of doublethink and rebelling again Big Brother in their dreams. It felt like a pretty inane way to spend two days, but at least I’ll have made some sort of impact on school life, if only manipulating bright young minds of children into corporate drones.

She seems happy about brain washing

That evening I had dinner with some teachers on school grounds, namely Chai, Noi, Airm and her husband, Dtee (it’s a Thai letter we don’t have, pronounced like a hard ‘D’). It was similar to the all you can eat barbeque, only with much more seafood. It was brilliant fun, Airm really opened up to talking, I was forced to bullshit my knowledge of football for her husband and Chai got sozzled within the hour. He just sat there, mumbling odd combinations of Thai and English. Still, made for some entertaining conversation. I was pretty much resigned to food poisoning, home-cooked squid and prawns brought in a market on a hot day aren’t known for their hygiene, though my iron stomach once again saved the day.

At least three high risks from my Food Tech A level

The day after I helped in the kitchen, first cooking a metric fucktonne of omelettes for the students, then pork and beef strips for the teachers. When Thai’s go for simple-yet-effective, they excel. Racks of pork, char-grilled to perfection over charcoal braziers with mounds of sticky rice and chilli dip. Uncomplicated, straightforward yet elegant. And delicious. Myself and Chai were in charge of the meat. Why? Because we’re manly men, that’s why. Manly men have the genetic disposition to barbeque lumps of meat whilst we sit in clouds of choking smoke and don’t let on how much it hurts our eyes. I nearly lost my eyebrows at one point when the pork fat ‘whoofed’ the flames to a couple of feet high. It was awesome. So, I feasted upon pork strips sandwiched by sticky rice, and the hard work and facial hairlessness made it all the sweeter. This was a life saver, as in the morning I was told I was to garden all day. To which my first response was to stare, as if in jest. I’m a fluent English speaker and they wanted me to garden? What made it worse was I was in smart trousers, button down shirt and canvas shoes. Some warning would have been nice. I flat out refused and feigned ignorance what a “plant” is. What they don’t know is I did horticulture in year 9, bitch. If I hadn’t been able to cook I’d have pretty much left there and then, I got the feeling Khamdee was taking the piss.

However, Thursday really pulled it back. Myself and a few teachers, Airm, Chai and Noi visited Phu Phrabat Historical Park. 

No dinosaurs... yet

It’s an area of incredible beauty, a pretty much Jurassic landscape of blasted fields, rocky outcrops and spindly trees.

Because FUCK YOU gravity

If I were any better with photo editing I’d be photoshopping the cast of “Land Before Time” onto every shot. The place was incredible, it was under a glacier for a while, which crushed the landscape down, then deposited various rocks onto various other rocks for gravity defying monuments to the power of nature. There were some astounding views, in particular cave painting. Proper 3000BC cave paintings of men and buffalo! Which I got my picture taken with!

Red smudge on the left

I spent most of the day chatting with the teachers, all of which felt more comfortable in a less formal environment. We got some great pictures, some friendly, some fun, some completely stupid.

Some friendly

Some fun

Some stupid

It was a really, really brilliant day, rounded off with a typically Thai stupidly large meal. I had a bit of everything, fresh catfish caught literally a stone’s throw from the restaurant, Tom Yum soup, fried rice and frogs. Not namby pamby French frogs legs at 20 Euros each, proper stir fried frog bits with rice. A lot more meat than French, and a heck of a lot more flavoursome. 

Left to right,me, Chai, Noi and Airm

It was sad I was leaving the school, it felt good getting to know some teachers and their stories, for example Noi wants to return to her home village to teach at her local school.

She was telling me about it trekking through the park, about all the trees in village, and the mountains nearby. I wish her all the best for the future. I spoke a lot with Airm, who was normally a bit reserved and straight laced on school grounds, and of course Chai. Goofy, silly Chai.

He’s a real laugh, a stand up guy and really caring. He brought me three sausages on sticks, with four more battered chicken goujons for dinner (Khamdee was busy all evening). As I dismounted the scooter, he looked at me and said “is it enough? I don’t want you feeling hungry tonight”. Considering the mammoth lunch he treated me to and the mountain of tamarinds his friend offered me, and the coconut Noi brought me on Wednesday, I think I’ll be alright. Chai was pretty much in charge of taking me home, since Khamdee would invariably be busy, have a meeting or just forget to pick me up after school, Chai would take me home on his scooter. It was nice zipping through the landscape, with Chai pointing out things in Thai and asking what they were in English. I pretty much died laughing when he pointed at a field and said “moo cow”. If I return to Thailand, I’d like to drop in on them all, especially to see if Noi managed to get to her home village.

And of course, Wan, the head chef

The final day consisted of me saying my farewells to a crowd of largely indifferent children, maybe if they’d actually known what I was saying... The morning was frustrating. At 7am I came to Khamdee’s for breakfast, for him to announce we were going out. He took me to a wedding of some description, really just to eat. Large bowls of rich soup, sticky rice, mutton bits (some with teeth in) and fiery chilli sauce. At 7am. My digestive system is used to bread rolls and jam with soy milk, I like bread rolls and jam in the morning. This was just too rich, I managed a couple of mouthfuls before giving up. What mystified my Western senses were the Thai men and women necking bottles of whisky and beer, let me reiterate – at 7am. Some of them looked gazeboed, again, at 7am. Some students might scoff at that, but getting pissed at breakfast I consider a sign of alcoholism.

Once I’d arrived and got some pictures of teachers with Henry, they were very confused, it was time to leave. I arrived back in Nong Khai at around 11:30, Sabine was there to meet me. We were then informed about how we to have a thank you party this afternoon. That was a shock, particularly how we both had under an hour to shower and get some clean clothes. We ate at an amazing little Vietnamese place, which sold primarily spring rolls. I hadn’t been there, and fifteen spring rolls down, I’ll go there again. I was presented with a framed photograph of me and the teachers, which was really good of them. It’ll go on my dorm room wall, I gave a fond farewell to everyone and cycled home. 

Spot the foreigner

Where upon the next tragedy struck. My three month Visa had been stamped wrong at the airport, leaving me with a month in Thailand rather than three. That was a shock, I’d been staying illegally in Thailand for forty days, and owed a fine of 20,000 Baht (£400). So, I rushed with Pookie to the immigration booth and got it sorted, apparently I’m not the only one who had the mistake. It was very quickly and professionally done, which was a surprise. I’m used to American immigration of “you don’t look like your passport photo YOU’RE A FUCKING TERRORIST AND MUST DIE” or the English immigration of booths staffed by zombies who take roughly an hour to check a number and look at a photo. “Are you sure you’re Mr. Toynbee?” “Um, fairly”.

Still, in and out in under twenty minutes, with my Visa stamped until the 17^th of April. Thank God for Pookie, I don’t think I’d still be in Thailand without her, probably being marched at gunpoint to some prison camp. I have that effect on bureaucrats – they don’t like sarcasm. Still, catastrophe over, my bank account is un-pillaged and I’m here legally. Woo!

Food Blog

Following advice from a friend, I've been taking pictures of the food I enjoy. Now, I've finally gotten round to uploading it.

What I normally eat in Tha Bor, fish, rice and soup

Standard fare in Nong Khai, chicken and pork skewers with sticky rice - 50B

More exotic, eel with sticky rice - 30B

Delicious, if boney

Rice with local mackerel, very nice - 40B

Albeit, boney. See a pattern emerge?

Chicken noodle soup, simple, original, hard to beat

But not hard to eat

Blog 13 - Zen and the Art of Not Teaching

As I am writing, I have been in my placement for five days. I arrived Monday in the most undignified way possible, the peasant wagon. Sorry, bus. Specifically a souped up tuk tuk called a “Song Tao”. These things are odd, get them at midday and you have a bus to yourself, any earlier and you’re sharing it with 10 Thais, like sardines in a can in a car crusher.

Sabine and I caught this song tao at roughly 7 in the morning, so there was less available space than central Japan. My bike was balanced on the roof rack, my camp man bag was being clutched tightly to myself and my main luggage was being used as a cushion by one of the most annoying Thai women I have met. She started perching almost on my knee, before putting her arm around me. Then she sat on my bag and began stuffing chewing tobacco into her gob. Then coughed it all over me. My trousers, my arm, my shoes. Might as well cough up steak on a strict vegan.

So, that was another Thai experience I’ll file away with a week of extreme sickness in India and being shouted at by a beggar in America. I’ll bring it out and dust it off for dull dinner parties. Still, we arrived in Tha Bor and Sabine bought me a coffee. Proper coffee, black, strong and hot enough to be substituted for napalm. My first in over a month, and it was heavenly. Thanks Sabine, I owe you one.

Sabine stayed in the school for the day, it passed by being introduced to many, many people and gawped at by many, many, many school children. I met the English teacher, Noi and sat in for a lesson, was excitedly chatted to by several teachers and found out who I was staying with. I assumed I would be staying with one of the female teachers and her family, as the previous two volunteers had, but I’m lodging with the school President, Mr. Khamdee. As he so misogynisticly put it, “women stay with women, man stay with man”. Alright then, let’s crack open a beer, talk about girls and share homoerotic male bonding.

I was brought back to his second home, a veritable Thai mansion with everything I need, obscene amounts of snacks and a shower. Oh yes, and a stupidly large bed. It’s like being back in Appledore. I made myself at home, I put on Answer Me This! and collapsed on the sofa. I met up with Khamdee for breakfast Tuesday morning, a very well cooked selection of fish and rice with fresh, warm soya milk. I was told there was no school today, there were exams so I was to report at the sports field. What followed was confusing and traumatising. After a very long speech by Khamdee, a parade of middle aged women shuffled onto the field with hula hoops. I got a bad feeling almost immediately. They began doing what looked like a 90s fitness video, there was a woman at the front wearing significantly less than the rest of them, so I assumed she was more important.

"Now remember the golden rule, hate you body. Now stretch out the hate"

Remember that she was at least 40, it’s hardly a flattering perspective. I know I said they were middle aged, well predominately. One looked late 20s, but another looked like she had wandered away from the local old folks home. With the amount of loose fitting tracksuits and T-shirts with motivational sayings, I felt like I’d roamed into the geriatric Tai-Chi class by accident.

"Did you hear Ethel made sponge cake with raspberry filling?" "Really? What's wrong with strawberry I told my Barry"

Then came the traumatising part, they wheeled on a tribe of 12 year olds to do the same thing, though they can bend at the waist without breaking a hip. However, they were so heavily made up it was just creepy. Too much blusher, a good inch of foundation, lipstick applied with a trowel and eye shadow that spread to the forehead and temples. I laugh at shivering Homewood girls wearing miniskirts and wearing half their body weight in mascara caked to their phizogs, but with was ridiculous.

 Note to girls – you look better not resembling a prostitute! Really! Looking like a Barbie doll isn’t attractive! There, my social mending paragraph is done.

Where was I? Oh yes, exploiting the young. So, as these 12 year olds began hula hooping to of all things, Flo Rida’s Low. Really? Any song with lyrics about slutty dancers taking all your money and “gettin’ low” is not appropriate for the under 18s to be dancing to. Save it for the open air strip joints, sorry, concerts. I didn’t take any pictures, I didn’t want to be put on some sort of register, and my blog could do without an NSFW logo. So, that awkwardly slunk off, far outstaying its welcome in my humble opinion and will hopefully die in a gutter somewhere leaving the girls to do what normal 12 year olds do, like plaiting hair and making daisy chains.

More wholesome photos

So, I returned home for a few hours and returned for a sumptuous post-sports day meal. Lots of fish, plenty of rice and cider. Really weak cider, but still. I miss cider, a proper ice cold Bulmers made with proper UK apples would be wonderful here. This is Asia, so karaoke is inevitable. I didn’t join in, I’ll need more than one cider to convince me that Mika’s “We Are Golden” is better sung by me.

The next day, as I worked off a truly crippling hangover from my one drink I arrived at school to be told that Noi, the English teacher was away, so I wouldn’t be teaching. Upon my insistence, I helped a class of little ones, but I told them my name and where I was from before being ushered to the computer room, where I spent the entire day reading articles off cracked.com. Wow, those really are 6 badass cats. So, 10 minutes teaching for three days, that ain’t bad.

Thursday I actually got some teaching done, about an hour of me standing with a microphone teaching small ones the days of the week.

... and that's called Friday. Understand?

Then there was a dancing competition, where I was asked for Western music, so I immediately played Marina and the Diamonds, which they went crazy for. Marina is a goddess, it’s official. That ended by day of teaching, though I found some students and pretty much forced the English language on them. They probably abused it by making me do their homework, but hey. Cultural exchange and all that. Lunch was amazing, of course. Their head chef is a food magician, her homemade coconut ice cream is perfect. Today was fried catfish with stir fry noodles. So, rest of the day spent with cracked.com. Really? Those are the 10 most overpowered hunting weapons in the world, and were those really found inside people? Fascinating.

Do any of you understand? Any?

Friday I leave for Nong Khai for a fair of some description, it should be a laugh with Pookie and the gang. Khamdee has a seminar in Nong Khai, so he’s giving me a lift. Hopefully next week will include more teaching. I can but hope.

Finally, another sign I noticed:

I was about to pound a kilo of smack into my eyeball. But I won't now, thanks sign!