But yeah, so that’s been the main reason for the unannounced hiatus. But there were others, as well. I was taking Chinese classes four hours a week in January and February, with moderate success. I can now fight my way through ordering a tea. But put me in the passive chair and have someone start talking to me, and watch my eyes grow wide and the blinking start in earnest. I’m hopeless, really, unless I’m ordering tea or boasting that I’m from America or I’m calling someone retarded. It’s a work in progress, I suppose; but if you were going to rank fluency at 100, we’d be ranking me right around one.

Also, a dear friend of mine came and visited in the second half of March, thereby nullifying any chance of blogging then. We traveled up and down Taiwan’s east coast for a week, and it was fantastic. I’ll tell you about it one day.

But the most significant thing that’s happened in my life over the last few months is this: I was randomly recruited to sing with a cover band, and we’re now actually one of the more popular live bands in Kaohsiung. It’s amazingly fun, insanely ludicrous, completely unexpected, and wholly flattering.

Now, anyone who knows me well knows that my sister is the singer of the family. She’s got the chops. She was harmonizing with the radio when she was three years old. She attended the same performing arts high school as Norah Jones and Erykah Badu in Dallas. She’s the star. Me? I’ve always considered myself to have a decent enough voice, and that’s about it. I’ve always loved to sing, though, and used to dream up scenarios where I was the lead singer of a rock band. But these dreams, as well as the fact that I enjoyed belting out a note or two, never made it out of my own head. Even in the car, I sang like Michael Bolton raps in Office Space – I’d rock it out pretty hardcore until I stopped at a light and people might stop next to me and see. I was embarrassed to sing in the car, next to complete strangers.

But then a couple years ago, I completely embraced my inner-dork and joined a… wait for it… a karaoke league. Yeah. That’s not a misprint. A karaoke league. But it was fun, and I realized that was was ok at this singing thing – at least, I was ok at singing songs with ringtone music being piped in and the lyrics bouncing along in front of me. But that little league is where I got a bit of confidence to sing in front of people.

When I moved here to Taiwan, however, singing was the last thing in my mind. I’ve done KTV here a few times – KTV is the Taiwanese version of karaoke, where you basically just karaoke in a private room with your friends – but never did I once consider the possibility of a band, or anything of that nature.

Perhaps you remember me speaking of the Canadian couple, Mike and Chelsea, that I befriended immediately when I moved Kaohsiung and stayed at 202 (the hostel). They had gotten here the day before me; Mike accompanied us when we partook in the World Games. Well, Mike’s a pretty accomplished musician – he was in a band back home, and he wrote real original songs, and they did some actual tours and stuff. He’s also played some of his solo stuff around Kaohsiung.

(Ok, honestly, can I just say, I kind of feel like a tool posting this. “Hey look at me! I’m in a band! I’m so cool!” I waited awhile to write about the band, because it’s hard to write about yourself singing in a band without coming across as completely arrogant. I hope I don’t here. It’s completely random and unexpected and surreal; but at the same time, I’m really loving every second of it. So if you’ll indulge me…)

Here’s what happened:

It was Thursday night. Thursday’s my long day (teaching little kids straight from 1:30-9:30), and after going out on Wednesday night, I was completely exhausted. But, Joe asked if I wanted to go to gambei (greatest thing about Taiwan, which I will tell you about soon – outdoor restaurants with good food cheap, and very cheap beer) after work. It sounded like heaven to me, but I only planned on being out for an hour or so. But as we were finishing up, Mike called me, and I answered. He asked what I was doing, and I told him. Then our conversation went something like this:

Mike: “So, I’ve started jamming with a cover band, and we need a singer. Would you be interested?”
Me: “Um, yeah, I think so. What kind of music?”
Mike: “Pretty much just rock – Chili Peppers, Hendrix, Cream, …”
Me: “I’m in.
Mike: “Cool. We’re playing an open mic night at Brickyard in 20 minutes. Can you be there?”
Me: “Ummm… yes?”

How did it go? Can I sing or not? Were tomatoes thrown at our heads? Find out all that and more, after the jump! Also, Gallery Goodness!

I was exhausted, but I wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity. I told Joe, and he said, “Well, let’s get our asses to Brickyard.” So we did. I sang one song with Mike and his band – “Hey Joe,” by Jimi. I only remembered about half the words, but we got a decent enough reception, and afterward, Jon – the drummer and organizer of the band – asked if I wanted to sing full-time with them. I said sure. “Good,” he said. “Because we have a show here in a month, and we need to get working.” Good god, this all happened so fast.

In addition to Mike, I’d actually met Jon before, as well as one of the guitarists. So that made the whole indoctrination process easier. They’re all great guys, and so I felt comfortable immediately. We practiced our butts off a couple times a week for a month, until our first show arrived on Saturday, Feb. 27. The band’s name? Liger Attack. (Jon’s idea. It’s a Napoleon Dynamite tie-in.)

We were actually the first of two bands to play that night. The second act was an AC/DC cover band from another town about an hour north of here. But, as I said earlier, the Western community in Kaohsiung is strong and united. We actually had a big crowd come to see us play our first-ever show, and my first-ever show with a band, ever. And it was awesome. Our set included lots of different stuff, from Nirvana to Chuck Berry to Cream. I can’t honestly tell you how good we were – I think we were ok – but the crowd was stinkin’ into it. Everyone was dancing and headbanging and singing along, and every bit of that floored us. We kept looking at each other, our eyes wide with disbelief amidst the cheers after each song. The first show was a completely unexpected success. We were giddy.

We played again two weeks later, at another popular bar, the Mercury. Again, way more people showed up than expected, and again, the response was shocking. We basically played the same set list as the first show – except we took out some of the slower songs and introduced “Twist and Shout” into the mix. And yet at the end, people were chanting for an encore, and we tried to oblige them with a very shoddy rendition of “500 Miles.” And even after that abortion, they cheered louder and longer for another one. We didn’t really have any more songs that we knew, so we left the stage and hoped they wouldn’t be too upset.

Well somehow, over the course of two shows, we’ve made a name for ourselves. People are asking about Liger Attack and wondering when we’re gonna play again. And actually, that’s the coolest part. After our first show, the bar owners at Brickyard were impressed enough to ask us to open for one of the biggest bands in Taiwan next time they roll through town. So, on April 24, we’re playing an hour-long set, opening for the Money Shot Horns. We were floored. We’re still floored. And we just hope we can play well enough to earn another gig somewhere down the line. And we also hope that we totally kick ass.

And so there you have it. The story of how I started singing in a rock band. It’s fun. Thank you for obliging me.

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]]> https://nickinasia.wordpress.com/2010/04/03/im-singing-in-a-band/feed/ 5 1336 Bogie Liger Attack Rock Face https://nickinasia.wordpress.com/2010/03/30/its-a-good-thing-im-not-paid-to-blog/ https://nickinasia.wordpress.com/2010/03/30/its-a-good-thing-im-not-paid-to-blog/#comments Tue, 30 Mar 2010 07:26:32 +0000 http://nickinasia.wordpress.com/?p=1314

"Lord, grant me the strength to write more."

Perhaps you noticed that there was a little gap in there between posts recently. Like, almost two months. Uh, whoops. You have my sincerest apologies. Apparently keeping this here blog updated on a regular basis isn’t as easy as I once believed.

When I first got here, you see, it was much easier to write regularly – I didn’t have that many friends, didn’t have that much to do, and everywhere I looked there was something new or strange or wacky or mind-blowing to my little American brain that I just had to tell you all about.

Well, nearly nine (nine!) months have passed since I first arrived here in Taiwan. And, as will happen with these sorts of things, I somehow got a little life going on here. I’ve become friends with a few more people, and as such, know about more things to do at more times – and these things preclude me from sitting in front of my computer and coherently spitting out the self-serving drivel you’ve become accustomed to here.

Also – and it’s surreal to even think about this – I’m alarmingly settled in here in Kaohsiung, and I somehow seem to be accustomed to everything around me these days. All the things that seemed crazy or ridiculous or odd or cute eight or nine months ago, are perfectly normal to me now. The entire families on scooters, the singing garbage trucks, the temples everywhere, the night markets, even the Engrish (gasp!) are all just peripheral pieces of my life here at which I no longer even bat an eye.

BUT, this is a crime – a crime, I say! – to you, the dear reader. I started this blog for both of us, not just for me. People wanted to know what it was like to live in Asia, and I have failed you in this regard lately. Again, I am sorry.

I know I’ve said this before, but I vow here and now to be better at this. I’ll make time to write, and I’ll try to keep you up-to-date with things going on here. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought to myself, “Oh, I need to write about this in the blog.” And then I never do. It makes me angry at myself.

I’ve missed writing. I’m gonna hold myself to this. Now, it may only be once or twice a week, and I hope that’s ok with you. It’s better than once every two months. You dear readers deserve to see what I see, even if it’s only through my poor prose. And so, I will show it to you.

Even the singing garbage trucks.

Let’s re-set the scene, shall we? It’s the evening of December 24th, Christmas Eve. Darkness has just settled over Bangkok, and I have just realized that, for the second time in two days, I have no money. This time, the money my mom had wired to me the day before – well, the 7000 baht I had left – has just vanished (stolen, in all likelihood). I’m about to board a bus to take a 12-hour trip to meet my friend Joe near Krabi, a nice beachy area on the western coast of the Thailand’s southern peninsula. I have 80 baht (about $2.50 US) jangling around in my pockets as I climb the stairs onto what would best be described as a luxury bus from the 80s that had been beaten down by time. I have no way to get more money, other than begging Joe (whom I barely know at this time) to help me out once I meet up with him in 12 hours.

********************************

The bus ride was long but not altogether unpleasant. After an hour or so, I stopped worrying and poking myself in the eyes and just realized that this was what had happened, and as crappy as it was, there was no way to change it. Things would work out in one way or another – Joe would be kind and able enough to lend me a few bucks for the week, or he wouldn’t be. And if he wasn’t, well, at least I’d already given some thought the day before to what kind of dress I’d look best in.

As moonlit Thai farms and villages raced past me, I leaned my head against the window, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and vowed to myself that I was done worrying about it and complaining about it. I listened to my ipod (This American Life often has a way of calming me down), I read a little bit. About 5 hours into the trip we stopped at a roadside place that specialized in selling halfway decent food to weary bus travelers at all hours. I bought a water for 40 baht, quickly shaving my meager fortune in half.

Somewhere along the road after that, I fell asleep; and the next thing I remember is waking up to sunlight warming my brow through the window. I checked my ipod – it was 8:09 am local time on December 25th. Merry Christmas, everyone! I felt weird right then, but in a good way – as I’ve said before, I love Christmas and I missed home and family and friends more at the holidays than any other time; here I was, on Christmas morning, in a strange country where I didn’t know any of the language, and I’d just lost all my money. But somehow, when I looked at my ipod, I was happy. I thought of my mom and sister and family at Christmas Eve mass (we’re 14 hours ahead over here, you see), and the Christmas Eve party that would go on back at my mom’s home, and all the goodness of Christmas Day. I missed them and all of that goodness, of course, but more than that, I was just happy for them; and I was happy for me. Because I was on an adventure; I was in freaking Thailand over Christmas! Who cares about the money? Life is what you make it.

Around 9, the bus arrived in Krabi, and I was immediately shuffled into a smaller van that would take me to Ao Nang, the beach town where Joe was presently. We made it to Ao Nang about an hour later, and I started walking around – you see, the directions he’d given me to the hotel were written down in my now-departed notebook – when I heard someone come up behind me and asked, in a high-pitched tone with unsettling bass, if I wanted a massage. I turned around to politely decline, and there was Joe. He’d found me, and thank God.

He asked how the bus trip was, and I said it was ok. And then I told him about the money situation – the ATM card fiasco, the money wire, the theft, the sweat, the panic, the rage, the tears… and then I asked if I could maybe borrow some during this trip and pay him back in Taiwan. He said of course, and that made me happy. Joe and I have since become quite good friends. And I did pay him back.

On Christmas Day, we toured around Ao Nang for a bit. We found a nice little room for 400 baht ($13 US) and headed down to the beach. It was a resort-type place, a big tourist hangout, but it never once felt overcrowded or annoying. Joe got a massage that afternoon, while I just took a nap on the beach. On Christmas day. Pretty great. Let me tell you this – beach naps are the best. If there were a award ceremony for naps, the beach nap would sweep it. You wake up refreshed, the smell of this tropical beach tickling your nose, and if you should desire a swim, well there’s the ocean, good sir. Have at it!

After that we had some dinner, played some cards, and hung out on a tiny side street lined with bars, which is apparently where all the hookers hang out, too. And said hookers are quite aggressive – we were just looking for a place to have a beer and play pool, and we were getting grabbed, groped, and solicited by just about every girl around. It’s a tad unsettling. As someone who enjoys the “thrill of the hunt,” a lot of the fun is lost when the duck casually flies into your blind, shakes your hand, puts the shotgun barrel in his mouth and your hand on the trigger. Now I’m not saying it wasn’t oddly entertaining, but I had no interest in taking these ladies up on their offers. So now you know: Nick’s not a fan of hookers. Write it down.

RAILAY BEACH, A WONDROUS PARADISE

The next morning, Dec. 26th, we packed up our stuff, headed down to the beach, and got on a longboat headed for Railay Beach, where we intended to stay our next few days. Leading up to my trip, I had several people tell me how amazing Railay Beach was – the sand, the water, the limestone cliffs, the atmosphere. Ao Nang had been ok, but we knew there were better beaches to be enjoyed. So we hopped on the longboat and took the 15-minute trip to Railay. Here’s what my research staff (Wikipedia) was able to find on Railay:

Railay Beach (Thai: อ่าวไร่เลย์) is a small peninsula located between the city of Krabi and Ao Nang. Accessible only by boat due to the high limestone cliffs cutting off mainland access. These cliffs attract rock climbers from all over the world, but the area is also popular due to its beautiful beaches and quiet relaxing atmosphere.

On the boat trip, I started chatting up this cute Swedish girl named Elsa – turns out she was here working for six months, at a tour shop, and so she knew all sorts of places we could stay, including cheap ones. Score.

There are two main parts of Railay Beach – East and West – and only a ten-minute walk separates the two. West Railay is where the beautiful beach is, it’s where you can go kayaking, and it’s where the nicest resort is. East Railay is not nearly as pretty, but it’s where the shops and bars and most of the hotels/hostels are. Elsa told us about this place on East Railay that was an Indian restaurant in the front, but had a forest of bungalows in the back, for cheap. We said that sounded good. So she led us there, left to go to work, and Joe and I checked it out.

We walked up a mountain of stairs and stepped onto a flat plain of slate – on either side of us were short tables with pillows all around them (the seating for the Indian restaurant), and in front of us was a tall reception desk. We asked the guy if there were bungalows available, and he said of course. 500 baht a night together – about $8 US apiece.

Our bungalow was resplendent in its simplicity – one 12’x10′ room with two mattresses on the floor and one little wicker bookcase; and behind that, one wide bathroom with a sink, a toilet, and a shower nozzle. And outside, on the front porch, was the prized jewel: a big, lovely, red hammock, with an amazing view either way you sat. I could not have been happier.

We spent the next four days relaxing, swimming, reading, kayaking, playing cards, eating delicious food, and enjoying everything else Railay beach had to offer. The beach itself was amazing – off-white sand that was finer than any I’ve ever seen or felt before, and the water was radiant blue and crystal clear. It seemed that no matter how far out you went, you could always see the bottom. Having grown up sloshing in the dark and dirty waters of the Gulf of Mexico, this place left me in awe.

After the jump, witness the glory, as Joe and I conquer a mountain and dance with snakes! (Not really, but there are snakes.). Also, a wondrous gallery of Thai fun! Join us, won’t you?

WE CONQUERED A MOUNTAIN

On our second day in Railay, we decided to hike up a mountain. Well, actually, we decided to hike up to this lagoon we’d read about, and said lagoon happened to be up somewhere in this “mountain” on East Railay. When we got there, we realized this would not be a Monkey Mountain-esque hike: that is to say, there were no stairs up this mountain – this was a real full-body undertaking, the way it should be. If I’m going to be escalating myself up a mountain, I’d prefer to not just trudge up an endless staircase. And so the trip up this mountain was a wonderful one. It was incredibly steep, and slippery in some spots; there were rocks and trees and a couple ropes to grab onto and pull yourself up, and little else. It was excellent.

We never did actually find the lagoon. I discovered later that at some point the path forked, and we had unknowingly gone in the non-lagoon direction, which ended at an amazing lookout spot. But Joe and I, still not realizing we’d reached the end of the wrong path, set out from the lookout in search of this lagoon. Like foolhardy tribesmen, we just kind of made our own path, and as the climb kept getting harder and steeper and brushier, the likelihood of death increased exponentially. But then, all of a sudden, after one last climb, we were standing at the top of the mountain. No lagoon, but we really didn’t care. The view was stunning, and the realization that we’d just conquered this mountain – no matter how small it was – made us feel like the most accomplished of frontiersmen.

The climb down was a bit treacherous and unnerving at times, but I was on a mini adrenaline kick, so it was a fun little adventure for me. At one point on the way down the path forked again. I told Joe that maybe that was the way to the lagoon and announced my intentions to find out. He did not share my zeal and continued back the way we came. I set out on my own, certain that I was on my way to finding this pristine little oasis. And then five minutes later, I was standing at the edge of a cliff, with nothing in front of me but a 500-foot drop. So that was that. I never saw the lagoon, but it was a spectacular hike anyway. The way back of course led me to that first gorgeous lookout, the one where our chosen path had actually ended. There were a couple other English speakers there, and one offered to take my picture in front of the view. These pictures are actually the sole reason for this paragraph. They look so completely photoshopped, it’s flabbergasting. No one who sees these without the back-story will ever believe these are legit. It looks like I decided to stopped in at Glamor Shots after running five miles. Anyway, here’s one for your enjoyment (click on it to see the bigger version):

A NIGHT WITH SWEDISH LADIES, BOXERS, AND SNAKES

You can pretty much walk the length of East Railay in under 10 minutes. It’s not big, but there are plenty of hotels, shops, places to eat, Internet cafes, and bars along the way. The way our days went, we’d usually be at West Railay for sunset, then walk back to the East side for the rest of the night. Dinner, then usually a drink or two at one of the pubs.

Our last night, we hung out at a place called, appropriately enough, The Last Bar. It’s situated at the end of all the development along East Railay, and was about a twelve-second walk from the bottom of our massive staircase. We hung out with a couple of Swedish ladies we’d met earlier in the week and were treated to a uniquely Thai evening. First, we bore witness to a Thai boxing “show.” Basically, it was a legit Muay Thai (Thai kickboxing) fight. It’s not an uncommon thing to see in Thailand, especially in the touristy areas. But I’m not sure how many other places in the world there are where you can walk into a bar, order a cocktail, and then turn around watch a live kickboxing match. It was pretty sweet.

About half an hour after the fight, we were treated to an entirely different kind of awesome: a snake show. Basically, this man with brass balls got into the boxing ring and essentially pestered, poked, and played with very dangerous snakes for our amusement. To clarify, this guy wasn’t some random bar patron or anything – I’m pretty sure this was his job (or at least, his side job; or something he took classes for at DeVry; he was skilled, is what I’m saying).

First, he took a smallish cobra out of its cage. He wiggled it and waggled it by it’s tail, pulled it to and fro on the ring floor, basically begging the snake to snap at him. And snap it did! It never got to our snake man, though. After he was done with the little cobra, he took out some kind of snapping, vicious-looking snake that seemed quite ornery. And then came the show-stopper – a king cobra. This thing scared the bejesesus out of me. But our faithful snake man did his thing, avoided the king cobra’s violent death-lunges, and in the process, impressed and amused the hell out of all of us. It was by far one of the coolest things I’ve seen since I’ve been in Asia.

THE END

And then we were done. Our sexy party time in was over. Thailand slapped me around for a bit and then apologized, held me close and assured me that it loved me. It was a roller coaster of a time, but in my opinion, the good far outweighed the bad. Money is money. But whiskey buckets, boat tours, palaces, amazing beaches, mountain-conquerings, snake shows, etc. –  those are memories and experiences that will last a lifetime.

We’re cool, Thailand. No hard feelings.

"My grandson is an idiot."

This particular piece of Engrish was not spotted by yours truly. In fact, it wasn’t even spotted in Taiwan. It was captured in Japan by the eagle eyes of my dear relative Gary. (I’m not sure what I should call him exactly – he’s my dad’s cousin’s husband.. third cousin? second cousin twice removed? Baldie? I don’t know these things… Holy crap, I just went here, and my head started to shake violently and my brain began to liquify. Anyway, you get the idea. Gary and I are kinda related.)

Gary and my dad’s cousin Marcia have been living in Yokohama, Japan, for the last few years. Gary sporadically keeps quite the interesting blog about his experiences over there, too. Since I’ve been here in Taiwan, we’ve exchanged some stories back and forth regarding the Asian cultures all around us. Some are educational, some are amusing. But yesterday, Gary went and passed something so wonderful along to me that it would be wrong of me NOT to share it with you.

What you will see today is but a simple shirt – a shirt with such a confusing mess of Engrish across its front, I can’t make heads or tails of the message it’s trying to convey. The ironies of life? The value in rebellion? The deliciousness of blueberry pancakes? Or is it simply a rumination on throwing your own poop off of your apartment in New York?

Here’s what we’re gonna do. After the jump, you can see this wondrous shirt. I will provide a transcript of the words. And then, in the comments, I want you to give it your best shot – what is the deep, soulful message this shirt yearns to pass on to us? Tell me, dear readers! Tell the world! Best caption wins something!

Yup. Now have at it, sweet clean readers!

I woke up around 10 and made my way downstairs to Rambuttree. About 30 yards down the road was a little outdoor restaurant. I took up residence at one of the tables and ordered me some breakfast and coffee.

Oh, Thailand – your food was so amazing, and for so many reasons. The fare itself is wonderful. And it’s everywhere. And it’s cheap. No matter where I was, it seemed I could walk up and down the road and see little food stands and restaurants everywhere, cooking up fresh Thai food, frying up Thai pancakes, blending fresh fruit shakes. There was also an abundance of Western food wherever I was – way more than in Taiwan – and that’s always a welcomed blessing. Plus, the food was very, very, reasonably priced. I’m sure there are expensive restaurants to be found, but there was so much cheap, fresh goodness all around us, we never needed worry about it. My breakfast that second morning – which consisted of eggs, ham, toast, potatoes, muesli and yogurt, and coffee, came to about $3 US. Simply fantastic.

My plan for the day was simple – drop off my bag at the tourist shop where I’d booked my bus ticket down to Krabi, then go check out the Grand Palace, then maybe a boat tour, then grab some dinner, make my way back to the tourist shop and board the bus at 6 pm.

As I got ready to head to the Grand Palace, I remembered that visitors aren’t allowed to wear shorts or sandals there, out of respect to the king or something-or-other. I needed to change out of my shorts, but this left me with a conundrum – I had all of my extra money that my mom and sister had wired me the day before in a hidden little pocket in my shorts. I would have to put my shorts in my pack, which I was going to then be leaving unattended with strangers in Bangkok – did I really want all my money in there? I decided that no, I did not, and so I took the 7000 baht I had left and stuck it into my little black notebook that I carry around in my right front pocket at all times (foreshaaaadowiiiing…). Satisfied with myself, I walked over to the tourist shop, dropped my bag off, and headed out for the Grand Palace.

The Grand Palace is a magnificent, ornate complex of gold towers, bejeweled buildings, beautiful wall murals, and other impressive structures, all sitting on a wide tract of perfectly manicured land. I was told by several folks that I needed to see it while I was in Bangkok, and so I obliged. It was indeed stunning and beautiful, and you can see more pictures in the gallery below. (The chillin’ buddha from Pt. 1 was at the Grand Palace.) But as far as important information and details regarding the Grand Palace, I won’t pretend to know too much about it. I’m downright ign’ant. Here, let’s see what my research staff can drag up:

Built in 1782 – and for 150 years the home of the Thai King, the Royal court and the administrative seat of government – the Grand Palace of Bangkok … continues to have visitors in awe with its beautiful architecture and intricate detail, all of which is a proud salute to the creativity and craftsmanship of Thai people. Within its walls were also the Thai war ministry, state departments, and even the mint. Today, the complex remains the spiritual heart of the Thai Kingdom.

From there, I walked along a few roads, exploring a couple street markets, where I saw everything for sale, from shoes to rocks to peanuts to dentures (seriously). Along the way I came across one of the saddest things I saw on my trip. A little dirt-faced girl pulling along an old blind man on a string as he played a little coconut string-instrument. In her hand, the girl held a tin cup to accept donations. Nothing too exciting or too terrible, but it yanked my heartstrings pretty hard nonetheless.

I walked along the Chao Phraya river until I got to the place where Joe told me I could buy a boat tour ticket for 18 baht. I did, and it was excellent. Again, nothing too exciting or surreal, but it was neat to float along this great river and witness another town with a completely different look and feel from anything back home. We went up a few miles, then turned around and came back. It was beautiful, in a tropical, natural, poor yet proud kind of way. I found myself riveted by all of the dilapidated houses and businesses along one side of the river on the way back. I took way too many pictures of them all.

When that was all finished, it was nearly sunset and time to wind down the day. I walked back to Rambuttree, ate some excellent sweet-and-sour pork (for about $1), and headed to an Internet cafe to get the exact directions to where I was to meet Joe after the 12-hour bus ride to Krabi. I took out my little black notepad and jotted them down. I emailed a few people and then headed out to the tourist shop, where the bus was picking us up at 6. On my way there, I headed to the 7-11 on Khao San to stock up on munitions for this epic bus journey. And then, at 5:45, I walked into the tourist shop. I chatted with a few of the other people who were there waiting for the bus. At about five to 6, the workers told us to grab our bags and head to the bus. It was at that moment that I noticed my front right pocket was a little light. Empty, in fact, save for about 20 baht.

My notebook!! It wasn’t in my right front pocket!! Where was it??? And more importantly, where was the 7000 baht it contained?? I checked every other pocket in my jeans. Not there! Looked in my bag from 7-11. Nothing but water and peanuts and chips and aaarrrrgggghhhhhhh!!! Where in the name of all that’s holy was my notebook?! I was immediately in panic mode. I looked all around. It wasn’t anywhere! Christ! I used it back at the Internet cafe!! I dug into that pocket for change at 7-11!! Did I leave it at one of those places??? I hastily told the workers at the tourist shop that I’d left something very important back on Rambuttree, and they said I had enough time to go back and get it.

Now, I’m not in what one might consider “good” shape, but I tell you, I bolted out of that place and sprinted the half mile or so all the way to the Internet cafe on Rambuttree. I went back to the computer I was at – no one was there, but neither was my notebook. Anywhere. I asked the people working there if they’d seen a little black notebook. Their English poor, one of them casually walked over to a stack of magazines, picked one up, and handed it to me. As if I’d sprinted half a mile to their humble cafe because I so yearned to read last May’s Golf World. I tried to clarify, and after a couple minutes, I think they had the general idea of what I meant, but one of two things was clear: either they had definitely not seen my black notebook or anything like it, or they were tremendously skilled in the art of team lying. Being Thai, I wouldn’t put it past them, but I had no time and no choice but to believe them.

After the jump: Discover if I find the money, see a fantastic gallery of Bangkok during the day, and figure out what all of this has to do with Arrested Development and Charlie Brown

From there, I sprinted back through Rambuttree, to the 7-11 on Khao San. The girl who had checked me out earlier wasn’t at the register, so I asked the guy if he’d seen the notebook. Of course, he didn’t really understand either, and he pointed to a wall of books and pamphlets directly behind me. At this point, I was about ready to rip off my foot and beat myself and everyone within 20 feet of me with it. I was in such panic, in such disbelief that I could lose my money again, and that I was about to board a bus and travel south for 12 hours and meet my friend with a grand total of 80 baht ($2.50) in my pocket. My nerves were shot; my brain switched back and forth from rationality to panic and rage, like a strobe light of insanity. Finally, someone at the 7-11 counter spoke enough English to tell me that no one had seen it. Who was I to argue?

I most definitely did the sad Charlie Brown walk back to the tourist shop. I walked back in and went through my 7-11 bag and even through my pack one last time. Nothing. It had happened. I don’t know how, but it happened. My money was gone. I very well may have left my notebook next to that computer in the Internet cafe. I may have left it at 7-11. Neither of those seem entirely plausible, but given the situation, I guess anything is. I also could have been pickpocketed. I know that sounds ridiculous, as it would seem that I’d notice a notebook being taken out of my front pants pocket. But I have friends who say just such a thing has happened to them. But who knows… Given the options, I’d probably swallow my pride and say I more than likely left it by that computer. Whatever the reason, my money was gone. It wasn’t just that, though. It was how stupid and irresponsible and guilty I felt. First, that I hadn’t taken the proper precautions to make sure I’d have a working ATM card in Thailand; then, having to have my mother wire me money; and then, having that money stolen. How was I about to turn 30? I felt 14, only without the ability to run an 8-minute mile and slightly better acne.

So I picked up my bag and headed outside, to be led to the bus. I had to get on the bus now. That was the only thing I could afford to do, since I’d already paid for it. I had 80 baht left to ride the bus down to Krabi, and once there, I would have to tell Joe of these disastrous events and hope that he had enough money and was Christ-like enough to lend me some for the remainder of the trip. If not, it was back to worrying about human slavery, drug trafficking, and prostitution, and what color dress would bring out my eyes…

It was dark outside now. A man led me to where the bus would soon pick everyone up. I followed him, doing the sad Charlie Brown walk the whole way.

And now, please enjoy a gallery of pictures taken when my heart was fuller and my pockets heavier. Bangkok, Day 2!

This is but a simple public service announcement, dear readers. I have been peppered with questions over the last few days, asking where one can see all of my Thailand pictures. Well, it just so happens that you can see them all on my Flickr page. It’s free and easy, just like those Thai girls. Hey-oh! (No, that’s not true. Well actually, I have no way of knowing this. The women of Thailand were nothing but nice to me, but I am neither insinuating nor endorsing any level of whorishness or bargain-basement priceyness.)

Anyway, I went and set myself up a Flickr account. My goal is to upload any travel pictures and videos to said account; and maybe some day, put up a bunch of my Taiwan pictures, as well. A man can dream. For now, please enjoy my Thailand collection. You can see larger photos if you choose the “Slideshow” option. I highly recommend this.

Now, despite my monetary difficulties, I will tell you that Thailand was amazing, and except for those couple of nervous moments, I absolutely loved every second of it. It was spectacularly gorgeous, and I tried to capture as much of that as I could.

Peruse at your own leisure, and feel free to leave your feedback, good or bad. Bad feedback will be deleted immediately and mentally repressed. I hope this is ok with you.

More tales of Thailand are coming soon. For now, click here for the photos…

I also realize that my Thailand adventure concluded more than two weeks ago. I would have written about it sooner, but what with the backlog of other stuff I wanted to get to, and with work always getting in the way, we’re just now getting around to it. I hope that’s ok with you, dear readers.

Anyway, as most of you know, I set out for Thailand on Dec. 22nd. I was to spend a couple days in Bangkok, getting a teensie flavor of this town that has quite the worldwide reputation for beauty and sleaze wrapped into one. Of course, I lived and worked for seven years in the belly of a town with a similar reputation. But I’ll just say it now – New Orleans is like the JV to Bangkok’s varsity squad. Bangkok’s so much bigger, so much stranger and seedier, and I was only there two nights. I won’t go into graphic details, but I will say this – the muffalettas and oysters are replaced with cockroaches and scorpions, and you don’t have the option in New Orleans of seeing a ping-pong show or other coital acts on stage (I didn’t partake in those in Bangkok, btw – there would just be something strange and a little creepy about going to one of those shows by myself ).

This post could be super long, or not, so we’ll just see how it goes… knowing me, I’ll talk too much and it will turn into a two-parter. I hope that’s ok.

After Bangkok, I took a very long bus ride down to a town in the south of Thailand called Krabi, where I met up with my buddy Joe. We spent the next few days on beautiful beaches in this area enjoying every single minute of sunny, relaxing goodness. But we’ll get to all that later. For now, let’s focus on my two days in Bangkok, and how exactly I found myself completely broke not once, but twice, in the span of those days.

My flight out of Taipei was delayed – only three hours, so nothing ridiculous, but instead of landing in Bangkok at 10 pm local time, we arrived around 1 am. Needless to say, I was a bit more tired than I had planned on being once I finally passed through customs and got into my cab to take me into the city. Joe had actually stayed in Bangkok the two nights before I got there, and had already made his way down to Krabi. But he’d been nice enough to book a room for me at the place where he’d stayed; this proved quite wonderful, as I was in no mood to try to find a room in this strange, unknown city at 3 in the morning.

I drowsily watched the outskirts of Bangkok zip by, and after about 45 minutes, the cabbie dropped me off at a busy corner bustling with drunk people. “Khao San Road,” he said. I thanked him, paid, got out, and slung my pack over my shoulders. Khao San Road is the main road where backpackers stay and party in Bangkok. There are bars, clubs, ladyboys, prostitutes, and shops all up and down Khao San. It reminded me a lot of Bourbon St., actually. It’s like the Thai, backpacker version of Bourbon. I felt right at home.

My hotel was around the corner from Khao San, and I found it quickly. After some difficulty with the front desk guy, I managed to finally convince him that I was the person who had requested room 406, so it was, in fact, not occupied, because I was its occupant. I went upstairs, dropped my pack in my room, grabbed a couple hundred baht, and set out to get a few beers and enjoy the atmosphere.

Now, here’s where we get to an important detail. I didn’t bring a lot of money with me on the plane. I could have, but I figured I didn’t want to travel with a whole bunch of cash on me. I have an ATM card from my Taiwanese bank account that (in theory) works overseas, so I figured the easiest thing to do would be to just withdraw money in Thailand as I needed. Oops.

So when I dropped my pack and headed downstairs, about 800 baht (roughly $25 US) was all the cash I had. I enjoyed a couple beers that night, had a bit of breakfast in the morning, and then headed to a nearby road called Rambuttree to start my day, refreshed and excited. Decidedly low on cash, I went to the ATM. And that’s where the fun started.

Coulda been me...

There are two pin numbers that my ATM card has – a 4-digit pin for ATMs in Taiwan, and a 6-digit pin for ATMs in other countries. That morning, I did realize that I was not in Taiwan, and I entered my 6-digit pin and the amount of money I wanted to withdraw. The ATM promptly spit my card out and told me “Incomplete data.” I had no idea what that meant, but I was sure that whatever data this machine needed was indeed complete. So I put my card back in and went through the process again. Again, my card was fired back out at me, and I was told that the “data” was “incomplete.” Now I was starting to worry. I walked along Rambuttree and found another ATM. Again, “Incomplete data.”

It was at this point that I was punched in the stomach by a combination of panic and dumbfoundedness. Was there something wrong with my card? Was there something wrong with me? With the ATM? I started to question myself and wonder if perhaps I had the number wrong. I went to another ATM and punched in a different number, and I got the same message. And then once more. Now I was in severe panic mode. And severe pissed mode. I had no way of getting any money. My bank back home in America had accidentally canceled my check card, and my credit card company had mistakenly revoked my abilities to use my credit card outside the US. (I have excellent luck.) I did not get these things fixed before I left for Thailand. Looking back on it, that was a bit of an oversight. Now what was I to do?

I found an Internet cafe. It was 20 baht per hour, and I had 60 baht left. I got online, posted a desperate Facebook status message, and then got on Skype. Miraculously, my beloved sister was online back home, and we chatted for awhile. I relayed to her my plight. She said maybe she and my sainted mother could wire me some money. I told her to look into it, but that I was going to try to get ahold of my bank.

Of course, no one at my bank speaks English. So I called Cynthia, the head of the Chinese staff at my school, and told her the situation. She called the bank. I called her back 20 minutes later, and she said that they had locked my card, because someone had been trying to use it in Thailand. Great. She then told me that the situation couldn’t be remedied until I talked to my bank, in person, face-to-face.

My chest cavity nearly imploded right then and there. Visions of human slavery, of drug trafficking, of prostitution raced through my head. Perhaps I’d be forced into all three if the cards fell just so. Would I have to wear a dress? Would I have a choice? No, no dresses. I would refuse. But what if it was the only way to survive? Ok, fine, one dress, but it would have to be to my liking and not too tight, something that might bring out my eyes…

...or this.

I was a mess. But at that moment, my sister came back and said that she and my mom had just wired some money to me via Western Union. I about collapsed with relief and joy. I know that’s what family is for, but I will forever be grateful to my wonderful sister and mother. I love you both. If not for you, I might have been wearing a dress. And it might not have even fit right. And nobody wants that.

And so, I bid my sister farewell with a thousand thank yous, found the Western Union, picked up my cash, and was as right as rain. At this point it was 5 pm – I still had roughly 24 hours to enjoy myself before I boarded the bus for Krabi. I found a cheap little room at a guest house on Rambutree (a much quieter, prettier street than Khao San, but still with a ton of activity) to stay for the night, dropped my stuff, and fell onto my bed, letting my brain relax for the first time all day. After a day of stressing about not having any money, it’s nice to come out of that on vacation, in Thailand. There are worse fates.

I changed clothes and went downstairs for dinner. As I mentioned, Rambuttree is a beautiful street, lined with food stands, guest houses, massage parlors (the legit type), and shops of every kind. Right across from my guest house was a food stand cooking up everything. The smells on that street were heavenly. I sat down and got myself some pork fried rice, and I was happy. A French girl sat down across from me. We got to talking – she lives in Laos and was passing through Bangkok on her own, too. We finished dinner and decided to take on Khao San together. Khao San was fun – again, we didn’t go to any sex shows or do anything too crazy. But we did chill at a bar with a skinny Thai Santa and several of his closest, most trusted Santettes, and ordered a bucket of whiskey and coke for 199 Baht ($6 US). Life was quite good.

After the bucket of heaven, we walked up and down Khao San and saw many things that would make a grandmother – mine and yours – turn away with disappointed embarrassment – drunks, ladyboys, seedy pitch men smacking their lips together as a way of promoting the ping-pong shows, etc. But maybe the most disturbing thing we saw was a Westerner (like you or me!), at a food cart that was decidedly insect-intensive, ordering a few cockroaches, scorpions, and everything else available:

And with that, I bid farewell to my French friend – Bene – and went to bed, ready to dominate my one final day in Bangkok. I had a wonderful second day, except when I became broke again. Details coming soon…

Asia in general is known for its… amusing… ways of translating things into English. Store names, product slogans, t-shirts… you

As I mentioned in my triumphant return blog, I sent out Christmas cards to a few people this holiday season. Usually, I’m not really the Christmas card type. There’s so much writing and effort involved. And then you have to mail them, and that usually involves some combination of addressing envelopes and buying stamps and wearing pants.

But this Christmas was obviously a little different. I actually wanted to send out Christmas cards – I think it was a way for me to fight through my homesickness, as well to feel like I was really keeping in touch with people back home. Facebook’s all well and good, but it’s always nice to receive an actual card or letter in the mail. It shows that someone really was thinking about you, and that they went to the effort of putting on pants to do it.

So a couple weeks before Christmas, I set out to find some Christmas cards, and I had a revelation: I’m in Asia. There’s Engrish and other wackiness all around me; surely, I can find a few wonderfully insane cards to send to folks back home. I went to a huge stationary store (don’t think of like a Hallmark store in the mall; these stores are all two or three floors, and they sell everything – think of Staples mixed with Michael’s, with a dash of some good old-fashioned Asian nuttiness mixed in). I found the Christmas card area and went to work. Within about half an hour, I’d found some gems. The rest is history: I just used the same six cards a few times. They were too good to branch out to anything else. Some had straight up Engrish; some had insanity; some had cats; one even had a pantsless Santa and Rudolph being held up at gunpoint. All of them brought me great joy and filled my soul with a holiday tingle I’d never felt before.

I hope they make you feel the same. See them all after the jump (complete with transcriptions of the Engrish)!

As I implied in yesterday’s post, living here in Taiwan affords me the opportunity to live a completely different existence from back home. Ok, well, it’s not completely different, I suppose – the sun still rises in the east and sets in the west, everyone wears pants (for the most part), and the Yankees are still the most popular sports team. But much of life here is a bit inconsistent with what I’ve grown up with  – the temples at every turn, the hand gestures that just confuse me, the food that confuses me even more, the smells that would offend most in other developed countries… and of course, the holidays.

But it’s my job here that’s probably the biggest change from what I had back home. I’m a teacher here. An English teacher. For little kids, mostly. Little Asian kids. Now, I realize that in my 5+ months of teaching and blogging, I haven’t talked about my job too much. And that’s my bad. You deserve better, and a teaching-centric post will be forthcoming. But I’ll just tell you this now: I really like teaching. It’s exhausting and challenging and it wears quite thin on my already fragile patience. But being able to connect with these kids, to plan out how you want them to learn, then to execute that plan, and then see them learn… it’s really, really neat.

The Christmas holidays brought with them the end of my first semester as a teacher in Taiwan. Now, most English schools over here (like mine) want their students to get the complete flavor for life in the Western world. And so even though most of these kids don’t celebrate Christmas at all – they all have to go to their Chinese school on Christmas day – most of their English schools decorate for Christmas and have Christmas parties for the students. My little Schoolhouse branch was no different. They decked out our lobby to the Yuletide nines, complete with a Christmas tree, fake presents underneath, stars hanging from the ceiling, snowflakes in the windows, and a giant inflatable Santa riding some sort of gasoline-powered snow plow. I wish I’d taken pictures. Forgive my foolishness.

Now, just so you know, I’m one of the lucky ones. Remember when I got hired by Schoolhouse, and I said I realized how lucky I was? Right. Well, our cluster of five branches are five of the only English schools who close down over the holidays. We got two weeks off, and it was glorious. Most schools, though, only gave their teachers Christmas Day off, and some of my friends even had to work on that day. So yes, I’m lucky.

And so, before I bid farewell to my students for 2009, we had ourselves a little Christmas party. Now, again, most of these kids don’t celebrate Christmas. They kind of know what it is, but only from the decorations and commercials they see, and what their parents tell them.

We didn’t have like one big school-wide party. Each individual class had it’s own little shindig inside the classroom during their class time. I teach six different classes –  two of them are upper level and would have no interest in celebrating anything except computer games and money; and one I teach at another branch, and they did their own Christmas thing over there. So I partied with three of my classes, all lower level (between 5 and 10 years old), and all so much fun. I brought in my ipod and computer speakers, and played Christmas carols for them. They had no idea what they were listening to, but they seemed to enjoy it enough. I thought about downloading “A Very Metal Christmas” to play for them, but ultimately decided against it.

The first thing I did with my classes was play “Pin the nose on Rudolph.” I drew (well, attempted to draw) Rudolph on the whiteboard, pulled my Santa hat over a kid’s eyes, spun them around, and let them have at it. Apparently, when you’re six, you think this is the greatest thing in the world.

After that, when they were sufficiently tired, it was crafts time. I had them color a couple Christmas pictures, then cut them out, and then paste them onto colored paper – green, red, black, gray, or blue. Then they wrote “Merry Christmas” on their paper and then drew snow or angels or robots or dinosaurs or whatever tickled their fancy. Again, simple, but surprisingly effective.

And that was the most Christmas-y thing I did all holiday season. But I loved it. It’s crazy, the bond you can develop so quickly with these kids, and vice-versa. For a couple hours anyway, I tried to give my little students a Merry Christmas. And in return, I got a little one of my own.

After the jump, check out the gallery of pictures from the Christmas parties with two of my classes!

So anyway, yeah… my sincerest apologies. I’m sure you all had your own Christmas/Holiday/Hanukkah/Boxing Day/Kwanzaa matters to attend to yourselves; you probably didn’t even realize Nick in Asia had been dormant. Well, now you do, and now we’re together once more, finishing off the expired eggnog, cramming ornaments and decorations out of sight and mind, and wondering once again what our lives will be like when we drag them back out again in 11 months.

What I’d like to do though, over the next couple of days, is backtrack just a bit. I didn’t write anything on here for the last month-and-a-half, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have things to write. Despite what I may have said just a few paragraphs up, I think, above all else, I was just lazy, and that’s why our little blog has gone unattended to.

First things first, though. I hope that you and yours, dear readers, had an absolutely wonderful holiday season. I hope Christmas (or whatever it is you celebrate) was a rousing success, and I hope you rang in 2010 with both fervor and aplomb.

My Christmas was… different… to say the least. The whole Christmas season was surreal here in Taiwan. It’s hard to explain it to someone who hasn’t been here in December. There were Christmas lights and Christmas decorations throughout the city – not everywhere, of course, but in enough places that it was certainly noticeable. The giant bank across from our apartment got in on the act:

So decor was up; many shops and stores were playing Christmas carols; it was even pretty cold out for the entire month. I can’t remember the last time I wore shorts here, or the last time it wasn’t at least a little chilly on the deathcycle at night.

But still, something was off. I’m sure it had a lot to do with being a bit homesick and missing my friends and family at this, my most cherished time of year. But there was something else. It was like, you knew it was Christmas, and it kind of looked like Christmas, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like Christmas.

You know how the holidays just have a feel to them? The reds, the greens, the lights, the pine and peppermint smells, the music, the smiles, the bourbon, the cookies… all of it becomes intertwined within you, and your soul dons a Santa hat and dances for a month straight (though that could just be all the cookies and bourbon causing indigestion and impairing my central nervous system). Maybe I’m just projecting my own personal feelings about the holidays onto everyone, but I’m sorry. I don’t care. I can do that. It’s my blog.

Well, Taiwan, try as it might, doesn’t really duplicate that holiday feel, that Christmas vibe. The lights were up and the carols were filling the cosmetics floors, but it pretty much stopped there. No one wished you Merry Christmas; there were obviously no (real) pine trees anywhere, and peppermint was scarce; no one (save for a few of my friends) even mentioned the phrase “Christmas shopping;” and of course, the name Jesus rings no bells for these people. Of course this is how it is, though. Most of these people aren’t Christian and never have been. Why would they celebrate Christmas? Why would they even care?

Which leads me back to the decorations. Why would they even bother? Is it for me and the other Westerners that comprise maybe .05% of Kaohsiung’s population? The question haunts us all.

So I guess it was nice to have them up, but like I said, there was no holiday vibe that came along with it. It was like a teenager whose mother makes him write a birthday card to a relative in Bolivia he’s never met – you could see the card and read the words, but the spirit of it all fell flatter than Debra Messing.

Ok, now (here comes the catharsis!)… I realize everything I’ve said up above was written from a perspective of what I’m used to, what I’m comfortable with. But I didn’t come on this little adventure expecting to be comfortable all the time and experience all the things I’m used to. So even though my holidays were different and I missed my family and friends back home, I made my own, new adventure. I have new holiday stories.

I had Christmas parties with my students; I found excellent Engrish Christmas cards and sent them off to folks back home; AND, I spent Christmas and the subsequent days in Thailand, losing money but gaining perspective.

Also, I turned 30. So there’s that.

I’ll be writing about all of that and more in the coming days.

Thanks for coming back. The place wasn’t the same without you.