Gut Rumblings

I had the gnarliest gas at the gym today, but I made it seem like it was this old guy that everybody hates by following him around from machine to machine.
Karma may be a bitch, but I’m pretty sure God thought it was pretty amusing and should kick me down bonus juju points for it or something.
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On less shocking notes, the new term has started at our uni, the weather has suddenly turned cool (21ºC/69.8ºF), Max has become a screamer unsuitable for taking shopping, and we didn’t partake in any Loy Krathong festivities this year because Nam is full of baby and I hate people.

Fortuitous Testudines

On my way home from the gym about an hour ago, I spotted a familiar silhouette on the side of the road… I saw it after my headlights had passed over, but some primal part of my brain recognized the dark shape and screamed POSSIBLE FOOD SOURCE. I stopped and backed up a bit, and got out of the car.
The rear running lights on my car shine through 38 year old lenses, so they aren’t that bright. But they were bright enough to show that I had found a pretty big turtle with pretty yellow stripes running up and down his legs and neck; his shell was about 9 inches long and he weighed around four pounds. When I picked him up, he tried to pee on me but my daddy reflexes are too well-tuned to get caught with such clumsy reptilian attempts (in contrast, Max has successfully barfed, peed, and crapped on me all in one day).
I decided to take him home instead of leaving him to get run over so far from a water source. I wondered how he had gotten there… Was he an escaped pet? On a walkabout? Or was he the ghost of my dead pink chicken, Pinky, come to say goodbye to daddy once again? (I miss that chicken, godammit!)
I put him on the hood of the Kuj (and he of course peed all over it), then drove home. I showed him to Max, who was kind of impressed, and Nam said I should let it go in the pond in front of our house. So we walked it down to the water’s edge, mumbled some quasi-religious well wishes common to those who don’t really care about religion but sometimes like to acknowledge there are greater forces than ourselves out there somewhere, and I tossed it into the water.
Then I washed off my hood with a half-empty bottle of water from my gym bag.
If that turtle makes it through the winter, avoids being eaten by the workers who net fish in our pond, and doesn’t get run over anytime soon, I’ll be really happy.

Surveying Khao Yai National Park, Thailand

Last week, while tripping balls on cold medicine and mourning the loss of our pink chicken, I mentioned going on a scouting trip for our upcoming International Camp. Here are some photos which are neither international nor even educational, but I like them anyway. If you’re lucky I may even throw in the odd caption.
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Khao Yai National Park. Entrance fees for Thais: 20 Baht. For foreigners: 200 Baht. Yet somehow, I got in for the Thai rate (because my coworkers told me to shut up so I could pass as Thai. Thanks, girls!)
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The dormitories we were supposed to stay at, but will no longer be able to because our financial dept. didn’t make the transfer on time…
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This totally reminds me of Full Metal Jacket.. PRIVATE PYLE WHERE R U!!
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Can we infer that there’s a 500 Baht penalty for leaving food outside the Room?
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Snail shoe rack? I forgot to ask what’s written in Thai.. but maybe it’s better kept as a mystery.

Zato #9 – Adventures of Zatoichi

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In a sense, I’ve been employing a Zatoichi of my own here. The baby in Nam’s belly is a week bigger than normal, and Nam feels very heavy, so she goes to get massages 2 or 3 times a week now. I also went last week after my fever, because my shoulders were all bunched up and I couldn’t sleep.
The masseuse is a blind man named Moh Ken (“Moh” is an honorific for doctors and other health practitioners). Moh Ken is a funny sorta guy; he doesn’t carry a cane sword, but he’s strong as hell from massaging people all day. When he massaged my shoulders, I was very aware that he could have snapped my collarbone like a twig any time he felt like it (and yes, this is a funny thing to be thinking during a relaxing massage if you’re not at least a little bit strange yourself). Moh Ken carries around this talking pocket watch that tells him time at the press of a button. His senses are fine-tuned enough to tell when people are moving around huim in the confined space of the massage shop.
I watched him change the sheets on the massage table this last time, and it was just fascinating. On one hand, I wanted to offer help (I mean, he was double-sheeting the table with fitted sheets so that he only had to change them after every two customers – pretty cool!), but on the other hand, I knew he would just swat me away with his rough blind samurai hands…
All previous Zatoichi posts

A Visa Crawl

Long-term foreign residents of Thailand not fortunate (unfortunate?) enough to have a permanent residency or Thailand Elite card must apply for visa extensions, usually every year. It’s pretty much expected to be a long and drawn-out process. This year proved to be no exception. We left Mahasarakham at 6:15 AM and arrived at Mukdahan immigration shortly after 9.
Because the idiots in our personnel department couldn’t get our documents together, our trip had been delayed until one of the busiest days of the year – just a couple days before many people’s contracts (and hence visas) end.
The whole day was long and tiring; I spent most of it standing at the application window watching our stack of applications not moving on the counter for about 5 hours straight and joking with the immigration official, fellow teachers, and other random applicants. Let’s just cut to the chase and say that we left the immigration office after 7 PM, nearly three hours after official closing time.
I have to give props where they’re due and say that the two officials working the window really worked hard and got everybody through with a minimum of fuss, all things considered. They were also very nice, patient, and understanding, which hasn’t been the case in the past at either Muk or Nong Khai immigration.
The next and final step in this process is getting our work permits renewed, and since the aforementioned idiots in Personnel managed to delay our paperwork for this as well, we were unable to go today and are forced to go tomorrow. It has to get done tomorrow, or we have to leave the country and our visas will be canceled. That might cause a bit of a stir, even by the low standards of Personnel, so I’m pretty sure they’ll be ready. I just hope they’re done in the morning like we’ve been promised, because I’m teaching a community learning class in the afternoon…
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UPDATE 9/30: I FINISHED! I FINISHED! I FINISHED! No more of this bullshit for another year (except for reports every 90 days)!!!

Pink Water Buffalo Photos!!

A few weeks ago, Nam wanted to buy some more maternity clothes so we got in the car and headed off to Non Kuan Chang (sp?), a nearby village with the best silk shop in the region. The shop is run by my coworker’s mother-in-law, with several looms and weaving machines on an elevated bamboo work area outside and an extension of their big house used to hold/display finished products. I took photos there the first time I visited Sarakham seven or eight years ago and need to do so again; today I’m not writing about silk though.
Max had fallen asleep in the car on the way, and since it was a cool day I just opened the car windows and parked right in front of the shop so I could hear if he woke up. I walked around looking at this and that for a while (after trying a couple traditional Thai silk shirts over the years, it’s clear that they are simply too hot for me), but eventually got sleepy. I decided to take a nap on the shiny hardwood bench on the porch while Nam and the shopkeeper did their thing. I’m not too ashamed to admit that I woke myself up by snoring and also slightly drooled on a nice shiny silk pillow. I hope it wasn’t for sale.
After Nam chose a really cool piece of mommy clothes, Max woke up and got clingy on daddy so it was decided that mommy would drive home while big sleepyhead entertained little sleepyhead in the back seat. On our way home, on the narrow village road running between the silk shop and the highway, I spotted an apparition straight out of my dreams:
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He was a young male being kept by a family under their house-on-stilts. A young boy was feeding him and ran away when Nam stopped the car and I jumped out. His mother came out to see what had happened and I asked if I could take some photos. Unfortunately, I only had my phone.
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The coolest thing? He was so friendly! Even though I’m pretty good with animals, I hesitate to approach ones that are big enough to hurt me and not even feel it. This big guy was really calm, though.
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I’d been itching to get photos ever since the last time I saw a pink buffalo, so I was very happy. Very, very happy.
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Wherein I confront craziness

In the interest of getting everything on the record, we decided to confront the crazy bitch, at her request, at the police station last Thursday, dependant on a couple of things. We first called in a favor and asked about the officer in charge and got back the answer that he had a reputation for being straight, and a good cop. That was a good sign, because a chance you take when going to the cops here in an unclear case like this one is that the cops are either sided with your opponents for whatever reason, or the cops themselves want something. So I wired myself with a cellphone transmitting to my PC at home.
That accomplished, we brought along Nam’s little sister to help watch Max and went to the station. The entire meeting lasted 30 minutes, because everybody except the crazy bitch wanted it to end quickly. She brought along a female teacher from Nam’s university for whatever reason and even she seemingly wanted it to end quickly. Why? Because in those thirty minutes, the crazy bitch never indicated what she wanted until the very end but did manage to tell everyone how she nearly caused an accident in the middle of an intersection when she pulled alongside me, in the lane for oncoming traffic, and expected me to sideswipe some kids on motorbikes to make room for her… And then got so angry because I didn’t accommodate her that she followed me for a kilometer, pulled in front of my car, and slammed on her brakes to cause an accident – WITH KIDS IN THE CAR!!! (and from what I saw, they weren’t even wearing seatbelts, because both of them were thrown forward, hard.)
By the time the cop heard this, he’d pretty much had enough of her so he kept repeating the same question, namely asking just what it was that she wanted. Because she wouldn’t say what she wanted, I got the strange feeling she was waiting for an apology from me but was somehow too embarrassed to ask for it. You’d never guess it, but… Just for the hell of it, I apologized. And guess what? That was that. Rather, that was it. The whole time, she wanted an apology from me for somehow causing her to almost (intentionally) cause two accidents in two minutes. When everybody realized that, it was like light bulbs went on above their heads. Nam, me, the cop, the crazy bitch’s friend. I mean road rage is one thing, but trying to cause accidents and then admitting it to a cop in a police station because you think it’ll get someone else in trouble, all because you want an apology is… fucking crazy, or as the Chinese exchange students at the good ol’ U of T used to say, C-R-A-Z-I-O-U-S.
So, the situation is resolved. I actually felt good about making the crazy bitch feel good, too (by apologizing). I could’ve really pissed her off by letting it get to the “demanding an apology” stage and then refusing to do so – I had every right to – but even though I intensely disliked her, I felt sorry for her at the same time. Someday, when I get to Buddhist anti-purgatory, I expect some fucking deity to remember the time I was nice to a crazy person, and perhaps just temporarily put out the fire burning my ass off.
That is all.