I have a new tag line for AirAsia:
It's only cheap if you catch the flight!
More on this later. Must go — can't afford to miss another flight.
D.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Tonight is my last in Bangkok. I knew three months would go fast, but it really does seem as though I've just settled in and now it's time to go.
People keep asking if I'm coming back — I hope so. At least for a holiday if not to take that job that Expedia offered me — oops! [backspace]
Of course, I still have a whole month of travelling to do through Vietnam and Cambodia! But I have been weighing up the things I'll miss about Bangkok, and the things I have begun to miss about home.
Sawasdee khup, Krung Thep. Thanks for having me.
D.
People keep asking if I'm coming back — I hope so. At least for a holiday if not to take that job that Expedia offered me — oops! [backspace]
Of course, I still have a whole month of travelling to do through Vietnam and Cambodia! But I have been weighing up the things I'll miss about Bangkok, and the things I have begun to miss about home.
Brisbane — things I miss
- My family (including Roxy, the dog), and especially my boys. We raised our kids to be independent, but that doesn't mean I don't miss having them around!
- My friends at the Brisbane office. This is the first time in seven years that I've worked anywhere apart from the Brisbane Wotif office.
- Being able to give someone a hug. I never know what the protocol is here, so I just resist the urge.
- Being able to drink water from the tap.
- Being able to hold a conversation with strangers that consists of more than "hello", "how are you", and "goodbye" (which is the same as hello).
- Being able to order a meal in English, and know what I'm getting.
- Blue sky.
- Footpaths.
- Being able to cross at a pedestrian crossing without checking for traffic.
- Rubbish bins.
Brisbane — things I don't miss
- Roxy's hair on every surface of my house.
- Taxi fares.
- The lousy public transport.
- Boring food.
- The Valley.
- Shops that close at 9pm, or even 5.30pm!
- Actually having your bag checked when you go through customs.
- No daylight savings.
- Not having my own pool and gym.
- Today Tonight.
Bangkok — things I won't miss
- The heat.
- The smell of khlongs and drains.
- Worrying that I don't have enough money on me to bribe a policeman if I need to.
- Wondering which part of the animal that crunchy bit in my mouth was.
- Dog poo down every soi.
- Begging.
- Saying "not want" to every second person as I walk down a street full of tuk-tuks and bars.
- Dividing every price I see by 30.
- Copping an eye- and throat-full of chilli vapour as you walk past a street vendor.
- Having to go to Starbucks to get a decent coffee.
Bangkok — things I will miss
- My new friends. Wherever I go in this company, I meet warm, welcoming, and generous individuals.
- Being able to smile at almost anyone without starting a fight. A beautiful country with (mostly) beautiful, friendly people.
- Being able to fly to the other end of the country, or even overseas, for $50.
- Eating lunch for a dollar.
- Catching a moto-taxi to work every day.
- Living five minutes' walk from anything you need.
- Shopping at 7 Elevens.
- Soi dogs.
- Markets.
- Cool bars and restaurants.
Sawasdee khup, Krung Thep. Thanks for having me.
D.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
The white stuff
I've mentioned here before that while we in the West busy ourselves with tanning on the beach, in the salon, and from the supermarket aisle, here in Asia it's all about getting pale.
A conversation with a friend here who was heading away to a beach destination for the weekend revealed that she was worried about coming back with her skin darker than it currently was. For one of the only white members of a family of five brothers and sisters (most of them have a lovely olive complexion, as opposed to my pale, pinkish blue aura) this was hard to fathom.
I've spent most of my life envying my sister's beautiful complexion, which despite now living in England, turns a lovely shade of brown whenever she spends more than ten minutes in the sun. My skin turns several shades of bright pink through magenta, dies, and then peels off leaving a freckly, blotchy shade of white.
Freckle-faced and ranga kids of Australia, this is the complexion we were beaten up for and taught to despise all our school years. Over here it's almost a prized possession!
If the aspirations set by billboards and TV ads are anything to go by (and lets hope they're not), the perfect Asian face is one that is barely recognisable as Asian, with a pale, white complexion. Faces all along the highway into Bangkok, Phuket, Chiang Mai, and Kuala Lumpur all stare down through eyes with the faintest hint of Asian.
Does this guy look Thai?
But why? With farangs coming from all over the world to find the loves of their lives, why aren't there posters of beautiful dark skinned Asian faces advertising everything from shoes to Ovaltine?
Look how beautiful these everyday people are!
Buy any sort of cosmetic product that you apply to your skin over here (deodorant, after shave balm, moisturiser, skin whitener) and it will claim to turn you whiter. Like this one:
This one comes with sheep placenta! Mmmm...
In fact, a recent deodorant purchase saw me score a free face wash product, which had the added bonus of whitening. So naturally, I decided to do undertake a scientifically robust experiment to see what effect, if any, it would have on skin that is already melanin-challenged.
Thanks to www.yearbookyourself.com for the pics.
D.
A conversation with a friend here who was heading away to a beach destination for the weekend revealed that she was worried about coming back with her skin darker than it currently was. For one of the only white members of a family of five brothers and sisters (most of them have a lovely olive complexion, as opposed to my pale, pinkish blue aura) this was hard to fathom.
I've spent most of my life envying my sister's beautiful complexion, which despite now living in England, turns a lovely shade of brown whenever she spends more than ten minutes in the sun. My skin turns several shades of bright pink through magenta, dies, and then peels off leaving a freckly, blotchy shade of white.
Freckle-faced and ranga kids of Australia, this is the complexion we were beaten up for and taught to despise all our school years. Over here it's almost a prized possession!
If the aspirations set by billboards and TV ads are anything to go by (and lets hope they're not), the perfect Asian face is one that is barely recognisable as Asian, with a pale, white complexion. Faces all along the highway into Bangkok, Phuket, Chiang Mai, and Kuala Lumpur all stare down through eyes with the faintest hint of Asian.
Does this guy look Thai?
But why? With farangs coming from all over the world to find the loves of their lives, why aren't there posters of beautiful dark skinned Asian faces advertising everything from shoes to Ovaltine?
Look how beautiful these everyday people are!
Buy any sort of cosmetic product that you apply to your skin over here (deodorant, after shave balm, moisturiser, skin whitener) and it will claim to turn you whiter. Like this one:
This one comes with sheep placenta! Mmmm...
In fact, a recent deodorant purchase saw me score a free face wash product, which had the added bonus of whitening. So naturally, I decided to do undertake a scientifically robust experiment to see what effect, if any, it would have on skin that is already melanin-challenged.
The Experiment
I took a before photo, used the face wash every day for the past 25 days, and present to you now the results of this experiment for your own edification.Before
After
Thanks to www.yearbookyourself.com for the pics.
D.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Taking care of business in Asia
I'm going to touch on a touchy subject, and mention some unmentionables. There, I warned you.
Nobody tells you about the toilets before you go to Asia. I mean, you hear rumours and stories as you catch up with friends who have been there and, well, done it, so to speak. But surely there should be some sort of government warning issued with your passport.
You know the brochure you get telling you how you can be imprisoned for drug trafficking and that some places aren't safe to travel? Well when you turn over to the next page there should be a diagram of what you'll find in a typical Thai or Malaysian toilet, and what you're meant to do with all the things that are in there.
I mean, most people have been going to the toilet by themselves since they were about two or three, so you know the business you're involved in and how to get the job done. But when you walk into the workshop and all the tools have changed, you can hardly be expected to perform to the same standards, can you? Even if the tools are just as effective, or even better, without the proper training, you're bound to at least fail, if not hurt yourself in the attempt.
Now, as a public service to readers of this blog, I provide for you what the Australian Government has failed to provide all these years. Here are three different toilet types you'll find in Asia, and how to negotiate their use.
While this looks like a normal toilet, and is in fact called a "Western toilet" in parts of Asia, looks can be deceiving. "Thank God!" you think (or even say out loud) as you sit on the familiar comfort of a porcelain throne with plastic seat. "I'd heard so many stories about toilets in this country..." But then, probably as your shift is drawing to a close, you notice one of two things: either a total lack of toilet paper, or a sign instructing you not to put toilet paper into the toilet.
I'll deal with the second scenario first. Naturally, your first thought is, "Then where am I supposed to put it?" The answer lies (or at least will if your aim is good) in what you thought was simply a run-of-the-mill waste paper basket. Hm! What an appropriate name. This bin is not for your toenail clippings or Mars bar wrappers, it is for your used toilet paper.
Koalas - the perfect mascot for toilet paper bins.
Like many parts of Europe, sewage systems in Asia are not up to the task of flushing away every item you think you can shove down the toilet — toilet paper, your flat-mate's stash, or the pet python you bought at Chutachuck markets. Therefore, while it may be true that "the job is not over until the paperwork is done", in this case, the paperwork is filed separately.
Now let's go back to scenario one on the Western toilet — no toilet paper at all. As you look around your tiny prison in a rising state of panic, you spot what looks like a tiny hose hanging on the wall behind you. No, this is not a handy mini-shower for those times when you've worked up a sweat, it's a case of wash, not wipe.
There are two things I will say here about the hose — watch your aim (slow and steady with the tap is the best approach as water pressure can vary), and remember that this is cold water (guys, be ready and try not to squeal like a girl).
Next is a hybrid toilet/bidet, with high-tech washing devices for front and back bottoms.
Note that while the instructional icon for the first control can be taken literally, the second cannot.
There's little explanation involved here, but again, don't be too hasty to spin the dial all the way to full until you've tested the pressure it's going to deliver, and see the above note on water temperature.
Now we come to the one that I, personally, dread the most — let's call it "the squatting hole".
The first time I saw one of these was in Korea about 11 years ago, and I thought someone, in a fit of rage, had torn a urinal off the wall and thrown it against the floor so hard that it was embedded there for eternity. You know, someone like Korean Hulk, or Su Per Man. It looked like a sideways, wrong way up toilet on the floor. I thought I had walked into the wee-wees only stall, so I went to the one next door. Same-same.
I don't recall how I reconnoitered my first squatting hole, but I probably held on until I got back to the airport.
Being a lot older and ... older, I now know that you crouch or squat over this hole. This is difficult enough when you don't have old basketball knee injuries and the poise of a hippo on yaa-baa to deal with — add to this the fact that in public toilets, the floor will invariably be "damp", if not soaking wet, with liquids of various colours, consistencies, and cough-inducement-factors. If you are wearing a dress or kilt, I imagine that this poses less of a problem; however in denim shorts, it beats the hell out of me how you're supposed to drop your dacks, balance over the hole while you're at your business, clean up when the task is done, and then leave the cubicle, without walking out looking like the kid from Slumdog Millionaire (you know the part I'm talking about).
To make matters even more challenging, the new piece of toilet hardware that you'd already become used to using in example one (a hose) has now been traded for a 40 litre drum of water, with a small bucket inside. Resist the urge to take the small bucket out, and dangle yourself in the drum of water.
Apart from these toilet types, it's also common to have toilets that aren't all that private. Stop on the side of the road at a rest stop with a make-shift eatery, and you're likely to be squatting in a toilet with little or no door, and perhaps a screen between you and the main dining area. I've been to more than one restaurant in rural Thailand where I could wave to restaurant patrons (if I so desired) from the comfort of the men's room. Speaking of which, you may also encounter women cleaning the men's room while you are making use of the facilities.
This toilet is for men and ballet dancers
with short arms and one leg.
Be further warned, gentle reader, that in some shopping centres you may also need to pay a nominal fee to use the facilities — THB2-5, or in Malaysia about RM2. The upside of this is that it usually means you won't have to use a squatting hole, and toilet paper will be provided.
If not, demand a refund and take your business elsewhere!
D.
Nobody tells you about the toilets before you go to Asia. I mean, you hear rumours and stories as you catch up with friends who have been there and, well, done it, so to speak. But surely there should be some sort of government warning issued with your passport.
You know the brochure you get telling you how you can be imprisoned for drug trafficking and that some places aren't safe to travel? Well when you turn over to the next page there should be a diagram of what you'll find in a typical Thai or Malaysian toilet, and what you're meant to do with all the things that are in there.
I mean, most people have been going to the toilet by themselves since they were about two or three, so you know the business you're involved in and how to get the job done. But when you walk into the workshop and all the tools have changed, you can hardly be expected to perform to the same standards, can you? Even if the tools are just as effective, or even better, without the proper training, you're bound to at least fail, if not hurt yourself in the attempt.
Now, as a public service to readers of this blog, I provide for you what the Australian Government has failed to provide all these years. Here are three different toilet types you'll find in Asia, and how to negotiate their use.
While this looks like a normal toilet, and is in fact called a "Western toilet" in parts of Asia, looks can be deceiving. "Thank God!" you think (or even say out loud) as you sit on the familiar comfort of a porcelain throne with plastic seat. "I'd heard so many stories about toilets in this country..." But then, probably as your shift is drawing to a close, you notice one of two things: either a total lack of toilet paper, or a sign instructing you not to put toilet paper into the toilet.
I'll deal with the second scenario first. Naturally, your first thought is, "Then where am I supposed to put it?" The answer lies (or at least will if your aim is good) in what you thought was simply a run-of-the-mill waste paper basket. Hm! What an appropriate name. This bin is not for your toenail clippings or Mars bar wrappers, it is for your used toilet paper.
Koalas - the perfect mascot for toilet paper bins.
Like many parts of Europe, sewage systems in Asia are not up to the task of flushing away every item you think you can shove down the toilet — toilet paper, your flat-mate's stash, or the pet python you bought at Chutachuck markets. Therefore, while it may be true that "the job is not over until the paperwork is done", in this case, the paperwork is filed separately.
Now let's go back to scenario one on the Western toilet — no toilet paper at all. As you look around your tiny prison in a rising state of panic, you spot what looks like a tiny hose hanging on the wall behind you. No, this is not a handy mini-shower for those times when you've worked up a sweat, it's a case of wash, not wipe.
There are two things I will say here about the hose — watch your aim (slow and steady with the tap is the best approach as water pressure can vary), and remember that this is cold water (guys, be ready and try not to squeal like a girl).
Next is a hybrid toilet/bidet, with high-tech washing devices for front and back bottoms.
Note that while the instructional icon for the first control can be taken literally, the second cannot.
There's little explanation involved here, but again, don't be too hasty to spin the dial all the way to full until you've tested the pressure it's going to deliver, and see the above note on water temperature.
Now we come to the one that I, personally, dread the most — let's call it "the squatting hole".
The first time I saw one of these was in Korea about 11 years ago, and I thought someone, in a fit of rage, had torn a urinal off the wall and thrown it against the floor so hard that it was embedded there for eternity. You know, someone like Korean Hulk, or Su Per Man. It looked like a sideways, wrong way up toilet on the floor. I thought I had walked into the wee-wees only stall, so I went to the one next door. Same-same.
I don't recall how I reconnoitered my first squatting hole, but I probably held on until I got back to the airport.
Being a lot older and ... older, I now know that you crouch or squat over this hole. This is difficult enough when you don't have old basketball knee injuries and the poise of a hippo on yaa-baa to deal with — add to this the fact that in public toilets, the floor will invariably be "damp", if not soaking wet, with liquids of various colours, consistencies, and cough-inducement-factors. If you are wearing a dress or kilt, I imagine that this poses less of a problem; however in denim shorts, it beats the hell out of me how you're supposed to drop your dacks, balance over the hole while you're at your business, clean up when the task is done, and then leave the cubicle, without walking out looking like the kid from Slumdog Millionaire (you know the part I'm talking about).
To make matters even more challenging, the new piece of toilet hardware that you'd already become used to using in example one (a hose) has now been traded for a 40 litre drum of water, with a small bucket inside. Resist the urge to take the small bucket out, and dangle yourself in the drum of water.
Apart from these toilet types, it's also common to have toilets that aren't all that private. Stop on the side of the road at a rest stop with a make-shift eatery, and you're likely to be squatting in a toilet with little or no door, and perhaps a screen between you and the main dining area. I've been to more than one restaurant in rural Thailand where I could wave to restaurant patrons (if I so desired) from the comfort of the men's room. Speaking of which, you may also encounter women cleaning the men's room while you are making use of the facilities.
This toilet is for men and ballet dancers
with short arms and one leg.
Be further warned, gentle reader, that in some shopping centres you may also need to pay a nominal fee to use the facilities — THB2-5, or in Malaysia about RM2. The upside of this is that it usually means you won't have to use a squatting hole, and toilet paper will be provided.
If not, demand a refund and take your business elsewhere!
D.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Taking only memories
Remember the post about Bangkok milk?
The honey featured in the making breakfast post?
What about the toilet paper one?
And who could forget Mr Hill in the shower?
Well here's your chance to grab your very own piece of My Mekong Trip history...
Place your bid now!
... or not.
The honey featured in the making breakfast post?
What about the toilet paper one?
And who could forget Mr Hill in the shower?
Well here's your chance to grab your very own piece of My Mekong Trip history...
Place your bid now!
... or not.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Spit, don't swallow!
Thailand, I know that when you put something in your mouth over here, it is all about including all the tastebuds - sweet, sour, spicy, and savoury (or salty).
But surely that doesn't have to extend to toothpaste!!
Apparently, that big white word written in Thai is "Salt"! Yes, salt flavoured toothpaste. I put it in my mouth expecting spearmint, peppermint, even beef mince would have been OK - but no, it was salt flavoured.
I used to think bubblegum flavoured toothpaste was weird.
D.
But surely that doesn't have to extend to toothpaste!!
Apparently, that big white word written in Thai is "Salt"! Yes, salt flavoured toothpaste. I put it in my mouth expecting spearmint, peppermint, even beef mince would have been OK - but no, it was salt flavoured.
I used to think bubblegum flavoured toothpaste was weird.
D.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Finding India in Malaysia
Tonight, in an unassuming Indian diner behind Sentral Stassen (Central Railway Station), I had one of the tastiest Indian meals I have ever had.
The menu was mostly North Indian, and I chose the Tandoori Platter — fish, chicken kofta and mutton (aka "goat") — served on a sizzling plate with a spicy salad, mint yoghurt and naan bread.
I've had most of these dishes before in Australia, so I'm familiar with the flavours and spices. But here they were, somehow tastier, more alive in the mouth, more voluminous. It was actually like someone had turned the flavour dial on these spices and aromas, all the way up to 11.
I couldn't finish the whole platter by myself. I had to leave a couple of pieces of the fish, free to swim again another day. And all of this for the equivalent of about AU$10.
A platter like this at any decent Indian Restaurant in Australia would be three times the price. Admittedly, it was served with all the hospitality of an ill-fitting nappy, but I could not fault the food, which was the purpose of my trade.
I don't think for a moment that this little non-descript diner and sweet shop was some hidden gem that I stumbled across — the best kept secret since the Queen of England's lingerie supplier. I think it was simply an example of good Indian cooking, which no doubt abounds in this city.
The streets of "Little India"
As a plus, they also sold handmade sweets and confectionery at the front of the store. I picked up a bag of mixed lollies on my way out — something I haven't done since I was about 7. Thanks Little India!
D.
The menu was mostly North Indian, and I chose the Tandoori Platter — fish, chicken kofta and mutton (aka "goat") — served on a sizzling plate with a spicy salad, mint yoghurt and naan bread.
I've had most of these dishes before in Australia, so I'm familiar with the flavours and spices. But here they were, somehow tastier, more alive in the mouth, more voluminous. It was actually like someone had turned the flavour dial on these spices and aromas, all the way up to 11.
I couldn't finish the whole platter by myself. I had to leave a couple of pieces of the fish, free to swim again another day. And all of this for the equivalent of about AU$10.
A platter like this at any decent Indian Restaurant in Australia would be three times the price. Admittedly, it was served with all the hospitality of an ill-fitting nappy, but I could not fault the food, which was the purpose of my trade.
I don't think for a moment that this little non-descript diner and sweet shop was some hidden gem that I stumbled across — the best kept secret since the Queen of England's lingerie supplier. I think it was simply an example of good Indian cooking, which no doubt abounds in this city.
The streets of "Little India"
As a plus, they also sold handmade sweets and confectionery at the front of the store. I picked up a bag of mixed lollies on my way out — something I haven't done since I was about 7. Thanks Little India!
D.
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