Thai-o-rama

Ha ha!

I am just back from lovely Thailand where the Canadian and I had a really nice week eating stupendous food and doing semi cultural things that parents would have been proud of (and, of course, some which they may have wanted to avert their eyes from.)

We started at the Kohsan Road, a mecca for all burgeoning travellers in Bangkok. It was a flurry of foreigners and bargaining - it's fun to haggle and practice your non-capitulating skills, a talent that Mike somehow failed to grasp. I also saw a Scots bagpiper in his full regalia, pumping out some typically whiny Scottish ballad (about thistle and whiskey, I'm sure) , surrounded by scantily-clad Thai women in tartan. Whilst in Bangkok, we also visited the Grand Palace, which was essentially an oversized rhinestone. There was little information on site about its origins and its purposes for being built so I can only assume that Thai royalty like everything to be as garish and as shiny as possible, at the risk of attracting magpies and other jewel thieving birds. We also saw a huge reclining gold Buddha, which my own parents visited many years ago, a surreal testament to the fact that I am endeavouring to following their travelling footsteps.

Muay Thai was violent and fun, and I really liked the graceful flower-laden dances that the fighters would do, right before kicking the crap out of each other. They were only boys that were doing this though - 15 at the youngest, supposedly - and were literally 0% body fat. They looked like they could mow lawns with a razor blade.

After having our fill of Bangkok, we flew to Koh Samui and got the ferry across to neighbouring Ko Pha Ngan. It was something of an experience in itself. We unfortunately missed the Full Moon Party by one day so we arrived on the island in the carnage of its aftermath. Three girls had lost their friend for two days (and missed their flights to Cambodia in the process). Most people seemed to be going to the police station in an attempt to regain stolen possessions. It almost seemed a mercy to have missed it although it would have been one serious party. We went snorkelling around this tall coral and stone structure called Sail Rock, which was incredible, although the waves threatened to dash us against the rocks which would have been messy. We also had a night out on the beach where the only people left standing (theoretically standing, that is, most were passed out on the sand) were - pause - the Irish. Saw the sun rise. Tried to sleep in our hammocks. Got bitten by mosquitoes.

Mike was a dab hand at hanging our hammocks, which was delightful.

Coming home was only slightly sad because I got home at nine on Friday morning, attempted to tidy my apartment, then collected Aoife and Lorraine from the airport(yay!). It has been amazing catching up with them, and trying to confuse them about the subway system.

Finally to be Kiddums-Free...!

I love teaching. It is a lot more rewarding than the woolly liberalist inside of me would have dared to hope for. The children in Korea are of course the sole reason for this. They are for the most part exceptionally intelligent, enthusiastic and fun-loving, as well as deferential and polite. However, in the midst of our clammy summer (odd Korean fact #344 - dog meat becomes more popular at this time of year as Koreans believe that it gives both coolant properties to the consumer as well as extra energy. No, Fido, NOOOOOOOOOOO....!) it shall be nice to escape to a beach in Thailand and bum about as if I was back at university.

The mud festival was indeed muddy. Everyone was wandering about, covered head to toe in the stuff. There was mud sliding, mud wrestling and a mud assault course (which Mike pummelled me on with a giant inflatable ball). Mike also got into the pit and his challengers were three toned, muscular Koreans who eyed up his pale torso with glee. He spent his brief minute in the pit trying to struggle to his feet until one casually threw him out. Cara wrestled some fellow female mud soaked competitors and lost due to lack of solid footing. For all the people out there that are imagining large numbers of scantily clad women in a pit of mud, it was exactly as you are envisioning it. Going on the slide, head first in a bikini, was something of a challenge, if only to prevent yourself from flashing at the photographers that were more than plentiful, and gawping spectators. I shall post up some pictures on the Interweb if I receive enough interest...!

There were also numerous frisbee games with drunken Canadians, being chatted up by Corkmen, watching Shaun walk through the water in the clumsiest possible way (arms akimbo, losing balance everytime a tiny wave trickled past) although he did come up with a classic quote to mine and Annabelle's helpless laughter - 'the only person that was ever graceful in water was Jesus!'. I guess now isn't the time to tell him that The Son Of God perhaps was aloft on the water's surface. Just a thought.

I shall try and post up some photos soon. Hope you all are having a great summer (my mother reliably informed me that it was 33 degrees celsius in Clones recently - Clones! I'm imagining all the pale limbs, the chronic sunburn and the unnecessarily skimpy outfits as I type.

Kym, happy 21st birthday...welcome to what will prove to be a semblance of adulthood.

Experimentation, and Failing To Be Successful

Sometimes, in a country where you don't really have a clue what is written on packages and you are forced to rely on pictures or what other people have informed you is good, you impishly decide that yes today is the day when you will indeed try something new, and you most probably won't have a notion about what it is.

That was quite a dramatic opening for the actual subject content - icecream. The Koreans are purveyors of the very sweet to the teeth-crumpling-on-impact hyper-sugar type foods - they even sprinkle sugar on garlic bread. Which is gross to the extreme, might I add, having being fooled by the savoury smell and the innocuously sprinkled herbs. However, this was nothing compared to the concoction which I unfortunately bit into today. I will now list out the three different layers of this icecream and see if anyone else finds it appealing.

1) Mild coffee flavoured ice cream on the outside (ok, so far)
2) The next layer was particularly thick chocolate (fine, I guess, a little hard to bite through)
3) Then - the piece de resistance - below the chocolate was a sizeable solid tube of hard lemon sweet, much like a lemon lollipop, with unidentifiable things suspended inside (presumably more oddly flavoured candy). At this point I abandoned the cursed thing next to a tree, which will probably die when the melted goo is washed into its roots.

I shall start to frequent Baskin and Robbins more, methinks, and choose icecreams that are white, clearly labelled and almost definitely vanilla.

Other Korean oddities that I have been subjected to recently: I was being taught how to swim by agemmas (a respectful term for older women in Korea) this morning, as my technique was too splashy; going shopping in Dongdaemun until two in the morning and laughing at T-shirts with 'English' phrases such as 'Life happy success base rocket noble' ;being taken to a park for tae-kwon do by our eccentric Master, where we did a series of bad sit-ups, played badminton (after he stole the rackets of a pair of kids immersed in their game) and were generally laughed at by nearby Koreans in normal dress; had a barbeque with said Master and his neighbours, a veritable community of blokes in covers bands, and Mike did a 'one-shot' of soju before we even made it to the lesson.

It really is a case of having to laugh at yourself (even if there is a note of shrill hysteria to it) to save yourself from ever questioning things too much.

Mud!

I just read a quote in Q Magazine where Sharon Osbourne, pissed off with having to work with Billy Corgan for long periods of time as he tried to monopolise a Smashing Pumpkins album - he wanted to play everything! - she stomped off, presumably in disgust, and said he was nothing more than a 'baldy twat in a dress'. You have to give the woman credit for being able to boil it down to the bare bones of an issue. Maybe a more tactful person would have called him 'a megalomaniac, replete with depilated head. Included: questionable sexual issues and has a proclivity for women's clothing.' Still, a sentence like that would dis-include all the Oasis fans that seemingly still flock to Virgin when a new album comes out and, incredibly, have their heroes on the front of this month's issue of Q. Are they still popular? Do people still go to see their bland rock and Liam's mournful expression plastered around a harmonica? Tis a mystery I don't have the resources to solve.

Anyway - mud! I am going to a mud festival this weekend with the Canadian Boyfriend, Shaun, Annabelle, Cara and a whole host of others who are willingly going to roll around in the 'mineral rich' muck. It is on a beach, 30 degree heat has been forecast and there will be a rich vein of activities, including mud wrestling and - well, there's others but I have forgotten. What other activities can there be, anyway? Could you fetch an apple out between your teeth from a barrel of mud? How about face painting? I am perplexed but have been assured by muddy veterans that it is immense fun.

Also - Mike has been co-erced into coming into Ireland and he shall be gracing the green shores with his presence hopefully sometime in February. With him, he shall most likely bring his special brand of humour, many anecdotes about the dams that beavers built, some tips on what Warhammer pieces should be purchased - 'The plastic ones are the best!' and a fresh naivete which I plan to take advantage of. Yay!

Unshocking, Indeed

I never normally clog these pages with any kind of political comment or opinion, predominantly because I wouldn't be fit to and also because I know that all who read this are hoping for my humiliation in print, which is the second best thing to hearing it in person. But I feel like breaking that rule for a paragraph or so, just for today. The humiliation shall come next.

I am relatively unsurprised by the London bombings, and the precise targeting of London's busiest infrastructure ports, and their almost comical timing (Olympic Games, G8 summit). I am unconvinced that the conclusions the summit will eventually thrash out will herald vast changes, particularly considering the US government's reluctance to concede that global warming is indeed the fault of humanity. God bless and protect the SUV. Still, world changing events aside, it was strange to see Monopoly board names targeted by terrorists. Those who own all four train stations may indeed have to forfeit their 200 pound rent. It's a genuine miracle that more people weren't killed.

Other than that, there is little to report other than envy. I have a big shout out for all who are travelling at the moment, or are on the cusp of such adventures - Kevin, floating on some gorgeous Californian lake, Mark getting surfing lessons on Bondi Beach (and, with any luck, not attracting any curious sharks, who may not respond in kind to his biting sarcasm and rampant camp-itude). Conor, shackled by wounds whose infliction details have not been disclosed to me, who will be deserting Irish shores for viruses, countries that will allow his to practise both his French and his detailed knowledge of the cormorant in Renaissance writing. To Aoife and Lorraine, who will be gracing me with their bonkers presence in a few short weeks. To my brother Kym who will be celebrating his 21st birthday soon and I would it assume it will be in true poteen-ed style. To David, whose dreams of a party city may have been dampened a little with yesterday's events. I will still be taking advantage of 'flights for a tenner', please be assured of this. I am pretty much in awe of all that has happened in the short eight months I have been absent from the country. And now I am technically on the home run, I am really starting to look forward to coming home.

Tae-kwon do is still hurtling forward, with a casualty per night. My hamstring is bollocksed - does anyone have any kind of cure? And Thailand looms on the horizon and I hope that the Canuck and I can amalgamate to the point of civility for the trip...