PB#8 Expat Idol

High school friends from Indianapolis – Rose and Cori – came to Thailand for a visit in June. I met them in Bangkok and we went for the traditional, post-36-hour-journey beer on the Boy soi. They look more refreshed than I do.
















My friend Gig in Bangkok helped me show Rose and Cori around. After their first full day, we went to a club called The Room. It was fairly lame at 10:30pm so we went next door to “That 70s Bar” which was packed. We got to the 2^nd floor and found no relief from the crowd, and the only cuties were 17 years old. (I want to be on Oprah, but for something good; not for that.) When we all acknowledged that if there was a fire, our best bet was to crash through the floor-to-ceiling window, Rose had a flashback to her Purdue frat-party days and adeptly led us through the crowd and into the safety of the street. Soon after, Gig joined us and we hung out at The Room. He’s looking good with the shoulder-length ‘do.





















The next night Gig took us on his version of a Bangkok tour. He’s well-rounded: has worked in publishing, is a DJ specializing in funk and lounge, has his bartender’s license, and dabbles in real estate and interior design. A real Renaissance man, he took us on the religious tour of Bangkok that most people don’t get. This is a shrine, next to the mall, to the Hindu god Vishnu … or maybe it’s Shiva; I wasn’t paying attention. I think that means that whatever I prayed for when I lit the incense and got on my knees probably won’t get delivered.





















Gig then took us to a Buddhist temple by the train station (if anyone goes looking for it) that I hadn’t heard about before. This is my kind of Buddhism – they are set up to take donations for proper Buddhist ceremonies for people who die but don’t have the money to cover the costs. So you drop the cash in one line, then move onto the next line where you write down some requests (“good health,” or “hottie boyfriend” or whatever), add glue to the back, and post the paper on a casket. Then you knock three times to get the spirit’s attention, even though the bodies aren’t in the caskets yet. Here’s Cori asking for an in-ground pool. I think she signed her name just to avoid any possible mistakes.
















Having had enough of the rice, curry, stir-fry routine, Rose and I opted for some Burger King and DQ in the airport on the way to Chiang Mai. Cori kept track of our activities.
















One of the many nice things about having visitors is seeing my everyday life through fresh eyes. Cori took this photo of the view from my balcony. Rainy season in Chiang Mai gives the mountain a dramatic and ever-changing feel.
















Cori, Rose and I went for our obligatory 2-hour, $8 Thai massages.





















Cori and I outside Sudsanan, still my favorite spot in the whole world.

Rose and I are matchies with our black shirts and jasmine garlands.

The Drunken Flower has a new hard-to-read menu. Who told them that “beans on toast” is a Mexican dish?
















More food – fruit and yoghurt for breakfast.
















More help from the fresh-eyes – this is the pool on the 5^th floor of my apartment building. Later in the month, a woman committed suicide by jumping out of a 17^th floor window. She landed near the pool and it had to be drained and cleaned. There has been a rash of suicides in our building over the last few years, and ghost stories are becoming common. But the rent might go down because most locals don’t want to live in a building with ghosts. I personally don’t mind. I’m pro-ghost.

Kristen joined us for a Night Bazaar / gay bar evening. Cori and Rose took off that next weekend for a luxurious weekend at the beach. I claimed I had too much work to do so stayed back, but ended up catching World Cup fever (see below).

Guy, Kevin, Kristen and I all had birthdays over the last two months, but none of us was around to celebrate in April or May. So we all got together for a night to celebrate, along with some other friends.
















We ordered "fried chicken to wrap a screw pine," which is actually really delicious chicken wrapped in a leaf.
















The next night I was suddenly struck with World Cup fever. I joined John (on the left) and Oo for a bottle of whiskey and occasional comments on the game, which none of us really watched. The whiskey made me chatty and I told stories and offered my (solicited) opinion until 4am, with lots of context, about the trip to Iraq, the current political crisis in Thailand, and the taboo topic of the Thai monarchy. When I got self-conscious about talking too much, Oo encouraged me to keep gabbing, saying that drinking whiskey with me was like watching cable. I think he meant it as a compliment.
















A few weeks later, we had a big seminar for people working on human rights. It’s not all doom and gloom – see how much fun we’re having?
















We had a visit from a law student (blue shirt) and his partner (light blue shirt sitting in front of him). That night, about 30 of us had dinner together and the lounge singer invited people to help him sing his cover tunes. Law student got his girlfriend on stage to belt out some Celine. It was somewhere between William Hung and Cameron Diaz in My Best Friend’s Wedding, minus the charm.





















I rescued the night with a spot-on version of Tom Jones’ “Sex Bomb.”

















Back at Sudsanan after the seminar, I popped up front to join in the chorus of a Thai folk song (“Loi Pai – Loi Maa” for those who have my 2005 mix cd). I like songs that stay within a ½ octave range.