"My dappled sanatorium"

"During the nineties, Leib's parents lived in Maisons-Alfort, not far from the train station. It was nicer than anywhere they had ever lived, which wasn't saying much.

Leib talked about them constantly. And I mean nonstop.

Oh, but it's not as if he wasn't interested in mine - in my parents, I mean. He was always asking after my father. He just had an inordinate interest in parents, in general. It was one of the first things he wanted to know about people. Their parents. After all, wasn't that where they came from?"

- La meillure part des hommes, Tristan Garcia.

My mother, pictured above examining my brother's school shirt, lives in a kind-of-converted mental institute. She's always professed envy towards the kind of people who have clean, structured house holds and freedom furniture (although I think she imagines these people as neater than they actually are), but I've always loved our homes jovial clutter.

A few years ago, I was walking down the street and happened past my friend Luci's white Toyota - noticing a gorgeous black and white globe in the back seat. "Oh my god Luci, I saw this amazing globe in your car, lucky you!" I announced on our next meeting.

Poor Luci's face went sour, and she shrugged, "well, it was actually your birthday present."

It's been crumbling apart since the day I got it, and Mom and I have a mission to work out some way of making it work. At least as a piece of dysfunctional art. Ideas = welcome.

Mom's cluttered shelves:

Lukas' birthday display: (sweet 16. I think the number of candles is random?)

Wilting plants and a medieval guard:

Twin donkeys and a cactus:

Lukas and a new friend:

My spot by the fire: (contenders include the cats and Lukas)

p.s. Title of this post is a lyrics-quote from Joanna Newsom - Soft as Chalk.

Perilous Driving on Blueskin Bay

Finally, an up-to-the-minute update. My last post was set in the tropical paradise island of Koh Yao Noi, where you need to nap during the afternoon to escape the oppressive heat, so I thought I'd change the pace right now and post about my morning escapade on ice.

I had to drive in to town, as I was supposed to be meeting my American students (I take them on trips as a job) to take them ice luging in a town 2 hours drive away. Ironically, the bus driver called me, 20 minutes into my drive to town, to say he couldn't get his bus on the road as there were two inches of ice and conditions worsening. Day-trip = post-poned.

So, because I was already out sliding around on the ridiculous roads, I used my point+shoot work camera and took a bunch of photos. I also discovered the "magic: key hole" function (probably aimed at the 'tween' market) and promptly over-used it. Forgive me, but it's just so fun.

Below: Carey's Bay, overshadowed with snow clouds.

Below: Port Chalmers wharf, and snow dusting Otago peninsula.

Below: looking toward Waitati and Waikouaiti, my childhood homes.

Finally: the 'township' (about ten houses) I currently call home. Time to turn on the heater and drink a hot cocoa.

A Little Place like Kokomo

It's very exciting when someone cool gives me obscure travel advice and I can remember it years later, when time and finances allow, and follow it to the letter. Over two years ago a San Franciscan babe* told me that if I ever go down to the South of Thailand, that I absolutely must go to Koh Yao Noi (an island) and while there that I have to stay at 'Denny's' ("everyone knows him!").

Pictured above : our accommodation. 350 Baht a night. And it was heaven. (It's crazy when you have a vague idea of perfection in your mind, and then you go somewhere and it actually exists).

* The SF babe, who shall remain nameless, endeared herself to me with this amazing story:

She wanted to get a brazilian before hitting the beaches so looked into getting one in Bangkok - it was difficult. Most cheaper places don't offer it (it's not a Thai thing) and she didn't want to fork out for some Hilton-esque spa. She found a compromise, and went along to her booking, quite nervous as to what the results might be.

Now, getting a brazilian is always an (at least slightly) awkward/ hilarious affair, but this was made much worse by the fact she inexplicably had two beauticians in the room with her. They looked down at her Western girl bush in disbelief, talked Thai to each other and laughed fairly uncontrollably. She was awkward, but she'd already lived in China for a year and was tough. She got through it, while the two girls shared the job of ripping her hair out and sporadically bursting into fits of giggles.

At the end, after all the pain and humiliation, she is lying back exhausted when one of the beauticians leans in and asks, all business, "Miss, would you like a happy ending?"

No. Joke. Now, I can understand getting a happy ending to a massage, which is quite a sexy time, but to a brazilian wax?! I have never heard a story of someone being aroused by the experience (although, of course, I'm not ruling out the minority of people who undoubtedly are - it just isn't a mainstream sexual expectation).

Now, SF Babe is understandably shocked, but - quick as a bullet - she regains her composure and coolly asks "how much?"

The beautician gives her a quote of roughly 1000 Baht, or $40 nzd, and SF Babe tips her head to one side and declines, saying, "well, I can just do it myself."

NB: I tried to get a Brazilian in Bangkok, in the hopes of finding my own freaky story of weirdness and cultural misunderstanding, but I unfortunately found true weirdness on the way walking there, at which point the only Thai woman I've ever seen and not instantly loved pick-pocketed my dumb tourist self. I had to email the 'spa' in question and apologise for missing my appointment: "I'm very sorry, I met a thief on my way over!"

In truth, these photos don't do Koh Yao Noi justice and I don't even have any of the idyllic white-sand beach, limestone islands in the distance. Maybe you really should go.

Incidentally, what I do have a photo of is a GIANT bruise (acquired partying on Saturday night) ... on my ass. I didn't want to post it so, ahem, publicly (hi MOM!), but I have been emailing it left right and centre, because it really is quite impressive. The bruise.

(Some say it looks like Argentina, while others disagree and say it more closely resembles a lightning bolt).

Goin' Down South

Even though I'd been to Thailand numerous times and spent several months roaming around the winding sois of Bangkok and Chiang Mai, I had never made it to the much-famed South. So, this trip, I decided to right this wrong, and headed to Ranong to meet my friend Top (see previous blog).

Pictured above, ever beautiful ZamZam on the long bus journey, which we both found surprisingly enjoyable. We are both quite lazy, so sitting still and looking out the window for nine hours is quite appealing.

Ranong finds itself on the border with totalitarian maniac state Myanmar/ Burma and is therefore a reluctant haven to roughly 100,000 refugees. This number is a very sketchy estimate. Here was a conversation with a Thai girl:

ZamZam: What's the population of Ranong?

Girl: Oh, about 100,000.

Me: Oh, I thought it was much more.

Girl: Oh, there are the Burmese, and there's probably another 100,000 of them.

ZamZam pointed out how this off-hand statement showed the general distaste for and disinterest in the refugees living in their city. We spent some time searching for the Burmese market, as most Thai people either didn't know or care to tell us where it was. But we found it, covered by a massive corrugated shed, full of flowers, batik material and military clothing.

Songkran in Ranong

The only downside to living in my new, rambling home in the country is that it makes going into 'the city' seem inappropriately daunting. This is especially ridiculous considering the 'city' is my small, college hometown of 100,000 closer to the Antarctic than to anywhere else.

Most days I fight the urge to laze on the balcony or spend the day strolling through native bush, and instead force myself into my car and to my office, where - in theory - I will do more work.

Today, I decided to let myself stay in, just me and the dog, and catch-up on my blog. Clearly, an urgent task.

Anyway, here are some snaps from over a month ago (feels like another lifetime) during Songkran in Ranong, in the south of Thailand on the border of Myanmar/ Burma. Songkran is Thai New Year and is celebrated primarily by having a giant water fight. The local teens are the main instigators, grouped into gangs - either on the back of trucks or stationary, and with various gimmicks; group costumes, iced water, paint, water with red food coloring in it, et cetera ad infinitum. ZamZam and I joined the gang outside our guesthouse, with giant hunks of ice keeping the water at a suitably squeal-worthy temperature. All the better for pouring down peoples' backs.

Our reason for coming to Ranong was to visit my friend Top, a monk, philosophy-buff and trainee teacher. I met him in November 2010 at my regular Bangkok hotel, the Atlanta, during one of his English lessons and promised to bring him back a kippah from Jerusalem. Songkran afternoon, Top drove us to the temple where he ordained as a monk and we got to cleanse Buddhist figures by pouring fragranced water over them. This is also a Songkran tradition, bringing luck and prosperity, but we didn't even know that at the time!

Later, during a walk in some local gardens, I awkwardly handed the little plastic bag to Top, with his kippah inside.

Toads are Truly Hideous (and Loud) (and Crass)

Nothing is more exciting to me than going for a drunken solo stroll in a foreign, preferably tropical, place in the middle of the night with my camera. On Koh Si Chang, I had the mixed fortune of having these guys to follow around. Aren't they disgusting?!

[I know the photo below is way too dark, but I kind of like it because it gives an accurate representation of what it was like before I flashed them in the next picture]

Also, one could make a convincing case that the crass and disgusting being is in fact the one behind the camera, who spent such a long time watching toads' sexy time. It also worth noting that the toad I pictured right at the top, alone, was actually following the mating couple around and trying to get involved. To no avail and leading to much toad fighting, which I was too enraptured by to photograph.

After that - some eye balm in the form of the beautiful night streets of Koh Si Chang.

That letterbox and drive-way just kill me!

Karaoke in Koh Si Chang

Koh Si Chang is a tiny, picturesque fishing island, only two hours from Bangkok, with one sandy beach and lots of windy roads through arid countryside, on which I finally learnt to ride a scooter. There is some tourism on Koh Si Chang, but most of it is Thai tourists getting out of Bangkok for the weekend - it doesn't have enough sandy beaches for the international circuit.

The obvious choice of heading into the 'deep south' was out due to flooding, so Cindy did the research and led the way, and ZamZam, Cindy and I spent an extremely relaxed five days in a 'bungalow' in the small township on Koh Si Chang. On our last night we found the best street food I have ever encountered, a massively charismatic Chef I still have a huge crush on and some fishermen who insisted on taking us out to karaoke.

The stage is pictured below, and was facing a dark, empty football field.