Visa Run Part 1

Visa runs are for the birds. And when you live abroad there is no way to get around them- unless of course you don't mind paying daily fines and/or serving time in some truly delightful prisons. For those who do not know what a visa run is allow me to explain. Most countries will allow you to stay as a tourist for generally up to 3 months without needing a visa. However if you plan to stay even 1 day over that allotted time, you  will have to purchase a visa/ pay a fine. There are many types of visas that you can acquire providing you have the correct paperwork. For example for my first year in Thailand I had a 1 year volunteer visa. But even with that one year visa I was still required to leave the country every three months and get my passport stamped in another country. Since I'm on a budget taking either a bus or a van was the cheapest way to get to the border of Burma.

The first border run, I took a series of buses and other forms of public transportation to get to Burma. That wasn't actually too bad. Five hours in a bus, running through the customs booths and then hopping back on a bus wasn't bad at all and you could do things on your own time.

I later found out that a more direct way of doing a border run was to take a private van. So the second visa run comes along and I decided it might be an easier to take the van. The ticket was purchased and on the day the van picked me up where I was staying. It was lovely to not have to run to the bus station, find out if you can actually get a seat, etc. The thing about taking a van is that you will often be in very cramped quarters with 10-12 people. If you are fortunate enough you will be able to snag the front seat and sit near a semi normal driver. I was never lucky enough to be picked up first, so I usually got one of the leftover seats.

On visa run number two, the van picked me up as promised and I was happy to get a window seat. I was hoping that I was the last person to be collected before we headed for the border.  Such was not to be. Oh yes and before I go on I'd like to mention that there were already some very colorful creatures in the van. There was a creepy old English dude, you know, the type of overweight male who travels to places in Asia and is really pleased with the bargains he is getting in the hooker department- the type of guy who will take off his shirt in public so that everyone else can have a more compelling view of his hairy chest and beer gut. This man behaved like he was God's gift to women.

There was also a quiet Amish girl (who was the lucky one to take the front seat). A few random guys. One man who was stoned out of his mind. He seemed to stay in that drugged out stupor the entire trip.

Okay, so those two were bad enough. But when the van went to pick up the last group we first drove to their guesthouse. They didn't seem to be there but we waited for about 20 minutes anyway just to make sure. After that we drove to the van company's office. We found them there. The wait wouldn't have bothered me so much but I was already in a shitty mood and when this final group stumbled into the van I had to fight off volcanic rage.

This last group was 4 English guys who looked about 22ish. These guys went onto my shit list right away. First off not only did they make the van late but one of them decided to plop down right next to me. I'm not so much of a witch that I don't like people sitting next to me but these guys were so hung over that not only were they very sleepy but you could actually smell sour beer reeking out of their pores. Also, apparently the "good time" they had last night started to catch up with them while in the van.

The smell was bad but then since he was so hung over he kept on falling asleep and falling on me. This obviously did not help my already foul mood. I let it slide a few times but after getting a lung-full of his most charming personal body odor I snapped.

He took the hint. He then decided to sleep on the floor of the van. It didn't help that much though because all 4 of those Brits reeked and since the van didn't let us open the windows it was like sitting in a bog the entire trip up.

Also, Mr. God's Gift decided that he was 22 again. He and the "boys" bragged about their legendary prowess among the ladies.

Oh yes and the reason those guys were late? They had trashed the room at their guesthouse and instead of paying for the damages and the bill in general, they decided they would be super "cool" and ditched the little old Thai lady who was asking them to pay for what they ruined.

Classy right?

Needless to say this was a traumatizing border run but somehow I managed to survive amidst all the sweaty grimy males and all their charming stories. And because I shoved the seatmate off of me I wound up having an entire row to myself. Victory? I'd say yes.

Obey The Inner Child

Ever have one of those days were reason just abandons you and you have a sudden and strong desire to get in touch with your inner psychotic child? For some, this rarely if ever happens. For me this happens very often. On this particular day while cleaning the rooms in one of the buildings I stay in, I felt my inner child of insanity start gnawing on me commanding me to do certain things because they would be "fun". Me being a big softie who can't deny a child anything, gave in. And so this series of amusing events followed...             The nuns will never find their shoes in the elevator. I continued to be evil/childlike throughout the day. Finally that evening I was sitting in the main office waiting for the computer genius guy to show up so he could fix the laptop that I had recently destroyed. He told me that he would be there at around 7 PM. Since I didn't really feel like climbing up 5 flights of stairs I decided that since it was only an hour that I could just sit there patiently. Any shred of patience I had left had completely dissolved. Sitting there doing nothing was going to drive me batshit crazy. After a little exploring I found something that could prove to be entertaining. The main office has some very long hallways. I did the math.     The calculations seemed, no, they were brilliant.  I made sure that no one was around for me to run over, then I hopped on. It was better than kettle corn. I kept this up for about 15 minutes and unfortunetly the people who own the building came downstairs so I had to sit back down and play the part of an angelic being. Sigh... P.S. The nun did eventually find her shoes in the elevator. I was promptly punched on the arm. Teehee.

Jolie, You Are Corrupting The Children

The English language is apparently taking over the world. The demand for native speaking teachers is high (unless you are actually a native speaking teacher who is looking for a job).  But anyways if you cannot find a paying job there is always someone who is looking for a volunteer teacher. I currently am holding such a teaching job. There are three girls in my class (well okay two, one of them loathes study and usually plays hooky) . One day, after 2 hours worth of study it was decided that we needed to get out and go shopping.

We hit the indoor market found the clothing items they needed for later and after some aimless wandering (men get used to it, we females love to wander aimlessly around any type of shopping facility until we see something that strikes our fancy) we climbed into a "songtao" and headed back. 

By the way a songtao, and don't quote me on the spelling, is a Thai taxi that is basically a red truck  that you climb into the back of and it takes you anywhere your heart so desires for about 75 cents.

We got out a few blocks before our final destination and since it was past lunch time thought it best we find something to eat. For some odd reason nothing was bloody open that day. I am not sure if they were anticipating the rapture or something.  If so then I expect they would have had a sign like this posted somewhere.

Unable to locate anything nearby that was either open or not too busy we just turned the corner and strolled down the street towards our building.

Thailand seems to have absolutely no driving laws. They all drive like bats out of hell who are also crack addicts. Everytime I see a foreigner who is driving around town on a rented motorbike I silently praise their courage.

Even though people here are such evil drivers that still does not convince the locals that it's much safer to walk on the sidewalk. This also has become a habit for me. I've become used to just setting out on an adventure and ignoring the sidewalk especially if it means I will get stuck walking behind some culture shocked tourist who walks like they are suffering from a severe case of gout.

I digress.

While myself and the girls were walking on the road (not in the middle, on the side of the inside of the road if you can mentally picture that) the drivers would generally swerve a tad just to make sure that they don't drive too close and run over one half of your body.

Right before we reached our destination some really expensive car came up behind and decided to be an asshole and not swerve out of the way. It scared the bejeezes out of me. If I had moved my arm just the tiniest bit I would more than likely have either a very very bloody elbow or a missing lower limb. My face was happy and smiling one moment and after that occurred, my face looked very much like this:

At that moment I was too terrified to move or speak so my "sweet" little student decided to take care of things in my honor.

I would like to take this moment to point out that although I curse more on a daily basis than a hardcore Marine, I am very careful not to curse around my students. So naturally when she said this I was knocked out of  my "almost got fucking run over" stupor into a "sweet madre, please tell me she did not overhear me when I dropped that box on my foot" shock.  And she just smiled sweetly and continued walking to our building.

I was rather concerned that maybe she might drop the f-bomb again but this time in front of the people I volunteer for so later on that day I confronted her and asked her where she learned that word.

I asked directly where she had heard that word. Her response was that she had seen "Angelina" say that and do that gesture while she was watching television. My student had no idea that what she was saying was the "mother of all words".

So dear Angelina Jolie, thank you ever so much for aiding in the corruption of my sweet students.

P.S. I did inform my student that "fuck you" is not a nice thing to say at all. But when you are really angry with someone it's perfectly okay to use it then.

Balance

When you travel you will encounter all kinds of different makes and models of people. You will meet the happy ones, the trippy ones, the evil ones, the grumpy ones, you name it and I've probably met it while traveling. Here is just a little story about one of the nicer happier people I have met.

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I am not a morning person. I never have been, and I highly doubt that I ever will be. It is a very rare thing for me to wake up in the morning and feel ready to face the world. In fact first thing in the morning I am a thing of evil.

I avoid caffiene products at all costs since for some unknown reason coffee has the reverse effect on me and will knock me unconscious for hours on end.While other normal people are draining the world's supply of coffee which seems to give them superpowers I am groggy and cranky and ready to judo kick the first thing that reminds me happiness and joy.

I think it's probably a good thing that not everyone in the world is as evil as I am in the mornings otherwise the whole universe would hit a hate overdrive and implode. While I know that not everyone is as groggy as me in the mornings, I had no idea that there were actually people who were happy to be alive at the crack of dawn. That was of course until I was taking some extra courses at massage school in Thailand and a new student joined in for the week course. Up to this point I did not realise how super happy and cheerful a person really could be in the mornings (and throughout the rest of the day). *Points to illustration* That's Kris, by the way.

Having never witnessed such joyful behavior I was at first wary. Myself and another student became convinced that Kris could not be from this planet. We decided that she was most likely born and raised on candy mountain.

Bless her soul, she was so sweet and patient with all the morning haters.

No joke, it would be overcast that day but the second that Kris came dancing in the sun would start shining.

While I am known for my dark sense of humor I must say it was rather refreshing to have happy joyful Kris around to brighten up the day. I admit that I am a tad jealous of how naturally happy she is. I do actually wonder what her secret is. Behind closed doors is she secretly evil?

Nah, I doubt it. I'm sure that back at her home she has a whole farm full of unicorns and rainbow kittens who adore her.

Well whatever the reason, I am rather relieved to discover that there are people out there whose happiness balances out the cloud of gloom that is casted by those who like me loathe the rising of the sun.

Eating Dog Can Be Fun But This Is Why You Probably Shouldn't

Sometimes when you visit other countries you will notice a strange phenomenon. You suddenly decide that when it comes to certain activities that you are a whole lot bolder and braver than you would normally be while residing in your native country.

Anyhow, so on this particular occasion I was just chilling outside of my current resident when I was approached by one of the people who works in my building. He told me that someone had brought over some dog meat and wanted to know if I would be interested in sampling some of this fine delicacy. And of course me deciding that I probably have the iron stomach and constitution of Rambo thought, "Sure why not? My stomach is made of awesomeness and rainbows so even if it's not that good I'll bluff and tell them how eating a dog was the best thing I've ever done in my life."


I sat down at their table and waited for the dog to be served.

After a short wait the dog meat was brought out to the delight of all. Here in Asia rice served with pretty much any meal and dog is certainly no exception.

Honestly, I was slightly concerned that after eating the meat that I would suddenly feel overwhelmed from the guilt of eating a presumably innocent pooch. This however was not the case. Granted it had the texture of beef jerky (only because of the way it was prepared) which to me is not entirely pleasant.  But I had decided from that point that I could actually go the rest of my life enjoying this exotic meat even when I made it back to western civilization.

I noticed that while dog meat is considered a special treat not all of the residents were partaking. This caused me to become slightly concerned. I asked the host why some people ate everything but the dog. He told me that some people believe it's bad luck to eat dog since by some magical olfactory power that dogs possess they will know the great and terrible crime you have committed against them and will make every attempt to destroy you. I really thought this sounded like a crock of cow poo and kept on ramming the pooch meat down my gullet.


My dip into the pool of hell began that night. I had truly horrifying nightmares all night involving getting mauled slowly to death by multiple angry rabid blood encrusted canines who after I had been torn apart had me put back together so they could tear me apart over and over again.

Needless to say, this was not the most pleasant night of my existence. I was already grumpy and exhausted after spending an entire sleepless night getting turned into a bloody flesh pile when the next day things took a turn for the worse and I really fell into a hellhole.

I was walking back from a restaurant after picking up some chow when all of a sudden I heard some growling and the sound of paws slapping the pavement. Naturally I turned around to see what was vexing the poor creature making these unfriendly sounds. Unfortunetly it was me. I chose at that moment to do something very stupid. I ran.

I did not make it very far before the bloodthirsty hound caught up with me.

Lucky for me the revenge bent pooch did not break the skin and seemed to be satisified with only nipping my leg and scaring the ever living hell out of me.

I wish I could say that this was the end of it but for nearly two months after this I got randomly growled at whenever I got near any dog. There were a few dogs in the neighborhood who would stalk me just to intimidate me. I have since developed a fear of any dog that weighs more than 3 pounds and now avoid any invitations to dine on dog meat like the plague.