Category: Thailand 2019

If you’re squeamish, or prudish, or both, please skip this post, since I’ll be talking some about bodily functions.

Friends will know that I’ve been fastidious to the point of pathology about diet. It’s all part of an attempt to slow down, and maybe even wind back a little, the march of time. Not to mention repairing some damage from the, er, Prodigal Years.

It started with a stint of ( fish- and shellfish-eating ) Veganism, but then I re-discovered running as a sport, and found the two didn’t mix. It took a long time to get even close to right, but the last coupla few months I’ve been on something like a ‘primal’ diet. Things were improving.

Then I came to Thailand. The second day here, I started spraying the toilet bowl. Along with that, my Resting Heart Rate ( RHR ), shot up to the 70s from the usual 54 – 59. Clearly something was awry.

Three possible causes;

• The stress of travel
• The spicy food
• Unclean water

I think it was probably a combination of mostly the last and the first. Although once the rot had set in, no doubt the middle one didn’t help.

The spraying continued from May 9 until about two days ago ( May 24 ) , when I finally passed something solid.

I told a co-teacher, an impossibly charming Italian named Edoardo, who teaches French. He smiled and gave me the Gallic Shrug – “Welcome to Thailand”. Seems it’s pretty standard.

These Thais are to blame. They regale visitors with roadside food stalls, maybe a half-dozen and more within a 100m stretch at busy times, all with delicious ( spicey ) fare. A keen gourmand ( ok, pig ) just can’t help himself. Like a cat in a sardine factory, I was probably eating too much.

When I reverted to high fat, moderate protein, low carbs, things started to come right. Lots of eggs, and very minimal spice helped. I mimed my situation to stall owners by rubbing my belly with a pained expression and saying ‘no spice’. I found stalls, and hotels, which will brew up ten or a dozen hard-boiled eggs at once for 10 baht ( ~= 45 cents ) each. Again, that took a bit of miming and a bit of Google Translate. I found a stall ( which also has a covered eating area, maybe 10 tables ), where I could hear roosters crowing out back.

I also found that – probably because of a pretty good diet before arriving – I could easily, and with good results, fast between around 7 pm, and 10 – 11 am the next day.

Then yesterday I visited Makro market .

This is a huge bulk barn, with such delectables as brie and goat feta cheese, which are impossible to find elsewhere in Rayong. I didn’t get much past the door before succumbing to a dish of battered ( spicy ) home-made fish-cakes. Delicious ( I quaffed the entire half-dozen ), but no doubt cooked with crap oil, and definitely spicy. Two hours later, back spraying.

On that subject, other favourites that are hard to find and / or expensive in Thailand – nuts, especially macadamias, brazils, and almonds. Good cocoa. Most cheese / dairy. Broccoli , brussels sprouts. Mussels. Favourites which are cheap / everywhere here – eggs, fish, mustard greens, mushrooms.

So it’s a balancing act between enjoying what Thailand has to offer ( occasional three-roadside stall dinners ), and taking good care of the gut. Why come to Thailand, and eat the same as home? But why be ill?

I’m starting to get it right.

Two weeks working as a teacher, and I’ve survived.

No  border probe for moral turpitude. No arrest for impersonating someone respectable.   No escape from town ahead of an angry mob of pursuing scooters. No Naked Lunch moment when all realise that I’m merely posing as a teacher. And that it’s a kind of confidence trick – as long as they ( school, students ) keep believing it, I’ll keep playing the role.

But it now dawns on me that the bar is a little higher than mere survival, and lack of incarceration. Those are the low hurdles. The goal ( to reach break-even point and better from this whole caper ) will come after clearing these hurdles;

Most importantly, I have to tiptoe through the notorious Thai Visa process. First, you need Thai police clearance. Then you need a non-B Visa. In between all of that, you need to go to a nearby country and apply from there. It’s fiendishly complex, a bureaucrat’s wet dream. Except it’s the cops and army whose whim the process seems to follow. There are entire Facebook groups devoted to working with and around this Visa issue. I was advised by someone in a position to know not to go to Thailand because of this complication.

I’m off to Bangkok Monday to get Thai police clearance. If that’s successful, there’s another trip – this time across the border – in the works to get a ‘Non-B’ working Visa. Then I’ll need a work permit. Whew.

The second hurdle is a 3-month probation period in my contract. This, apparently, is also standard, and means I’m effectively at the mercy of a student vote after three months. I assume they poll my students, and if I don’t score 80% or higher, I could be out. Nasty. I don’t yet know all the details;

• Is it a yes / no vote, or do students grade teachers?
• How often do teachers ‘fail’?
• Worst case scenario and the school decides to ‘let me go’, how much notice do I get?

but I’ll find out as the end of 3 months nears.

The first two weeks have been exhausting, not least because I’ve gone from mostly unemployed to full-time. One saving grace is that week ONE involved only three teaching days, and week TWO only 4 teaching days ( holiday Monday ). Week THREE will also be only 4 teaching days. But the day off won’t be very restful, because it’s a return trip to Bangkok ( 150 km ), and I have to prepare lesson plans for that day’s five classes for the Thai teacher.

OK, so thanks to a rock-star family member ( you know who you are ), I’m now … liquid again.

I used the money which came through Western Union to sort out an apartment for the next month, and avoid the sting of the daily 500 b. for a hotel.

Caza V1

Is home now, at least for the next month.

Ain’t it amazing how fast the wheels can fall off? And how quickly follows the body panels, the chrome, nuts and bolts, lights and indicators, and finally bits of the chassis. Leaving the poor sucker ( me ) sitting in the middle of the proverbial road in a carseat.

That’s what happened today. One simple f-up, which I wasn’t even responsible for. Can you guess? An ATM swallowed my Visa card. The machine tells me it’s working. OK. I insert the card. The ATM flashes the message ‘out of order’. The lights around the card slot flash – ‘expect some action here’. Nothing. It doesn’t return my card. Pretty soon it shuts down.

With the help of some locals, I call the number on the machine. They ask me every question they can think of, and 20 minuteps later tell me I might get my card back in 3 working days. Or not. No apology, let alone offer of compensation.

After calling my bank in NZ, the extent of the sh*t starts to dawn on me. My phone is running low on credit. I need to be able to call people. I can’t check in to any hotels with no cash. Luckily the scooter is well-stocked on gas. But I have no real food reserves.

Shoulda Shoulda

Yes, I know, I know. Beginners’ mistake, shoulda shoulda got travel insurance. But even if I had that, it’s a long weekend here, and how are the insurers going to give me cash.

I tried Western Union, but can’t for some reason can’t SEND the cash ( online ) to RECEIVE here. Maybe it’s Kiwibank, but by the time I’d discovered that, they’d closed.

An understanding worker at a local bank I have an account with ( but next to no funds ), was kind and sharp enough to call the hotel, and ask them to extend credit of sorts. I get to stay here, and pay later. So I have a roof over my head, and for now, a little food.

For now. Not sure how I’m gonna reassemble the jalopy ( see above ) tomorrow.

So today I’m scootering down Sukhumwit Rd, the main drag of Rayong, helmet-less. The day is warm, and all is right with the world. If I wasn’t on a little scooter, this song might be on the mental playlist

The scene changes very fast when a Pride of brown-uniformed helmeted blokes appear ahead in my lane waving me over to the curbside. Oh, so that’s what Thai cops look like.

I’m told I’m not wearing a helmet, and that my NZ driver’s licence is only for 4-wheeled vehicles. I left my international driver’s licence at home, of course. I’m told that I need to pay a fine, for being helmet-less.

The cop, a solid genial guy only a little taller than me, tells me I have two options. Go to the police station brandishing a ticket he’s about to write me, and pay 500 baht, or pay him 400 baht at the roadside. I tell him I’ll pay at the station ( sure I will ), but it starts to look like he’s gonna keep my driver’s licence as guarantee of said payment. Getting the licence back seems like it’s going to present huge problems to someone who still can’t find his way around Rayong without Google Maps barking orders. And the cop clearly would rather not fill out the ticket, which looks like a Byzantine affair.

I moan that I need the money for other things, but hand him a 1000-baht note. He doesn’t do change, and sends me on foot down the road for it. I do my business, and return to pay. He sidles me away from the glare of his comrades, and the public, and gestures for me to lean into a huddle. We opens a leather note holder and gestures for the baht to go in there.

Once all that furtive nastiness is over, he’s all jovial again, and presents me with a … can of Pepsi. A small one.

I’m on way again, having paid my donation to the police social club beer kitty fine.