.... This time by campervan, taking the coastal route to Melbourne to see family. We are only going for a week, but it's us out and about again, meeting new people and living out a rucksack.
I'm writting this in a Syney internet cafe, following a great night out on the town with Elaine, a great friend we met in Goa. It was brilliant to see her, share travelling stories, and catch up, over a few bottles of wine and a surprisingly pleasent Indian meal. Not quite Indian-Indian (no ochra and pannier on the menu, and the paranthas still didn't taste right), but very nice none-the-less.
Probably not the best evening meal as we're stuck in a campervan together for the rest of the day, thinking about it....
Monday 28 April 2008
Saturday 19 April 2008
Australia
We paid a little extra for a pre-booked Taxi from our hotel to the airport- we couldn't be bothered wondering off onto the main roads with our bags to flag a "proper" meter taxi. (Most of the ones outside our hotel prey on tourists, refusing to use the meter and charging unbelievably ridiculous prices- like 600 Baht for an 80 Baht journey.)
Once our bags were checked in, I decided for the first time ever to "have a few" before our flight, using the last of our Thai money. Very surprisingly, I also had one of the best Tom Yam Goong soups during our stay in Thailand, at a sports bar in the airport while watching mixed martial arts fights and downing large bottles of Chang lager. Nice finish to our trip.
The flight was almost empty, which may be why nearly an hour before take off, the "last call" for boarding was being announced. This lead to a sprint, with painfully full-bladder, from the sports bar through security and into the aircraft toilets, in a panic that we were going to miss our flight. Damn Chang beer.
Dinner, a few whiskeys and a sleep later and we landed in Sydney. I figured it would be a lot cooler than Thailand, so I wore a vest under the bush-shirt I've taken to wearing when travelling.
It wasn't a bit cooler. It was bloody freezing!
The Aussies are still wearing their shorts, flip-flops (thongs) and T-shirts. But in my hiking boots, cargo trousers, shirt and dusty fleece, I was still feeling the temperature difference, apparently adjusted to hot and humid Thailand.
I wont go into the family meeting here as it's personal, but it was great, and the past couple of weeks have been cool (literally too- it's STILL freezing cold, and it rains a lot too!).
Mrs Grasshopper and I were also able to meet up with Shirley, our good friend from Africa and India, and Jenny, our Aussie friend we met in Goa. It was great to see them again and catch up on what we have been up to. We went to Manly beach for the day, and watched the surfers in the rain, as well as wondered about taking photos and visited a museum. It was strange to do a tourist thing here. It was easy to forget Shirley is still travelling, where we are on a family visit having "done" Sydney already, and Jenny is a local.
It feels strange to think we have now finished our journey. We are going to do something "touristy", maybe visit a vineyard, or even fly over to Melbourne for a few days. But somehow it wont be like true travelling, the learning curve being flatter, and the ride so much easier. The culture is so similar to ours, albeit prehaps more consumerist, with it's drive-thru donut shops (!), unbelievably cheap fast food, 3 litre V8 car engines and radio stations with traffic helicopters... (in the UK, even the emergency services struggle to afford a helicopter...)
It's been a great trip though. Anything worth mentioning I'll post, but in the meantime I'll put some of our photos and videos up over the next few weeks, now that I have ready access to the internet and a PC. Need to do something, as we now have plenty of time on our hands.
I ain't heard Bob Marley for ages...
Once our bags were checked in, I decided for the first time ever to "have a few" before our flight, using the last of our Thai money. Very surprisingly, I also had one of the best Tom Yam Goong soups during our stay in Thailand, at a sports bar in the airport while watching mixed martial arts fights and downing large bottles of Chang lager. Nice finish to our trip.
The flight was almost empty, which may be why nearly an hour before take off, the "last call" for boarding was being announced. This lead to a sprint, with painfully full-bladder, from the sports bar through security and into the aircraft toilets, in a panic that we were going to miss our flight. Damn Chang beer.
Dinner, a few whiskeys and a sleep later and we landed in Sydney. I figured it would be a lot cooler than Thailand, so I wore a vest under the bush-shirt I've taken to wearing when travelling.
It wasn't a bit cooler. It was bloody freezing!
The Aussies are still wearing their shorts, flip-flops (thongs) and T-shirts. But in my hiking boots, cargo trousers, shirt and dusty fleece, I was still feeling the temperature difference, apparently adjusted to hot and humid Thailand.
I wont go into the family meeting here as it's personal, but it was great, and the past couple of weeks have been cool (literally too- it's STILL freezing cold, and it rains a lot too!).
Mrs Grasshopper and I were also able to meet up with Shirley, our good friend from Africa and India, and Jenny, our Aussie friend we met in Goa. It was great to see them again and catch up on what we have been up to. We went to Manly beach for the day, and watched the surfers in the rain, as well as wondered about taking photos and visited a museum. It was strange to do a tourist thing here. It was easy to forget Shirley is still travelling, where we are on a family visit having "done" Sydney already, and Jenny is a local.
It feels strange to think we have now finished our journey. We are going to do something "touristy", maybe visit a vineyard, or even fly over to Melbourne for a few days. But somehow it wont be like true travelling, the learning curve being flatter, and the ride so much easier. The culture is so similar to ours, albeit prehaps more consumerist, with it's drive-thru donut shops (!), unbelievably cheap fast food, 3 litre V8 car engines and radio stations with traffic helicopters... (in the UK, even the emergency services struggle to afford a helicopter...)
It's been a great trip though. Anything worth mentioning I'll post, but in the meantime I'll put some of our photos and videos up over the next few weeks, now that I have ready access to the internet and a PC. Need to do something, as we now have plenty of time on our hands.
I ain't heard Bob Marley for ages...
Monday 7 April 2008
Thai Massage Horror
Our last days in Bangkok were spent shopping at MBK and various other markets, including the backpacker ghetto of the Kho San road, picking up birthday presents and such like. We also had a wonder about, and seen the Reclining Buddha at Wat Po- a 30 foot behemoth of a statue of Buddha, painted in gold leaf in the most ornate surroundings I've ever seen.
Our last night was spent drinking, like all travellers, up and down the Kho San road, chatting to other travellers. We finished up in our favorite bar in Bangkok, where I got comfortably pissed listening to Addy, a talented guitarist and singer we listened to when we first arrived in Bangkok. Surprisingly he recognised us, and played some of our favorite songs, and came over to shake my hand and say goodbye when his set was over.
Today, our final day in Thailand, Mrs Grasshopper decided to get her hair done, and urged me to have a massage.
Now I'm not much of a massage person (unless its my missus doing it of course!), but aching from injuries, bruises and strains, I relented and went while she got pampered in the salon. It was only 250 Baht for an hour, in a place we seen the previous day. It was above a resturant on the Kho San, but very professional looking and a world away from the dubious massage parlours of Nana Plaza, Patpong and the like. I chose an oil massage, figuring I'd prefer the relaxing deep tissue manipulation over the sadistic submission wrestling of traditional thai massage.
Now I was always a bit concerned about getting a massage, that I might, erm, "respond" shall we say. I'm a bloke after all. What if being half naked and rubbed all over by a pretty, slim, thai girl with delicate fingers causes an embarrassing, erm, "uprising"?....
... I needn't have worried.
My masseuse for the day was Shreks long-lost sister. Older, bigger, ugly-stick beaten sister. (Who clearly enjoys weight lifting as much as eating.)
"Take clothes off!" She says (booms) cheerfully as she shuts the curtains around me. She comes back a few minutes later to find me sitting on the mattress in my boxer shorts, looking slightly uncomfortable.
"All clothes off!" She laughs, and disappears (which was impressive for a girl her size). I duly removed my shreddies and wrapped myself in a towel. She reappears, whips the towel off me and flips me face-down onto the mattress.
"No problem!" She says (bellows) laughing.
Now the massage was initially very nice. As her ham-like fingers pushed my muscles up my back, my hair stood on end and I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. Then she starts digging her elbows in, with her full tonnage behind them. My eyes shoot open as I feel my ribs popping and seperating from my spinal column. Elbows are for fighting with! I think to myself, as she crushes a disk in my back. Then she starts on the back of my thighs with her huge hands.
Ahhh, now THAT is nice! I close my eyes again as she expertly manipulates my hamstrings, up from knee to buttock.
Was that her finger?! My eyes blink open in alarm as my scrotum shrivels up in shock and fear at her flicking finger. Maybe it was an accident, I think, and close my eyes.
She does it again!
"OK?" she asks, this time deliberately tickling my receding man-sack.
"Um, er, ha ha!" I respond fearfully, and push myself further up the mattress, away from the offending digit. She giggles, (making the floor tremble slightly) and continues massaging the back of my thighs. She does it faster and harder. I then start to seriously worry she's going to slip, and one of her banana sized fingers will bury its self in my back passage.
Thankfully my back is soon over. She flips me onto my front and I shyly try to cover my still-terrified todger.
"No Problem!" She laughs again "I see many many man penis!" throwing a towel over my groin.
I let go of my willy and put my hands by my sides, feeling foolish.
She then whips off the towel, and stares at my dick!
"Ooh, very good!" She says, patting it with an enormous finger and then quick-firing thai to one of the girls outside the curtain. The unseen thai girl replies, giggling. Are they laughing at me?
I'm aware I haven't trimmed my man-patch for some time, and my petrified "old-boy" feels like he's disappeared into my stomach.
I look down.
It resembles a white handkerchief in a thorn bush. A small white hanky at that.
They must be laughing.
She leans forward and whispers; "Men like massage round here" pointing around my groin. "You like, yeah?" She puts a colossal finger to her lips. "Shhhh! special massage!"
Is she offering to.....? I shake my head furiously, "Um, no, er, not at all, thank you, er, I'm married, er, no, no need" I stammer.
And petrified, a voice in my head says.
"Ohhhh, ok...." She says, looking crestfallen. "I like foreign man, very good, very big. And hairy here." She first pats my winky and then rubs my moderatly hairy chest. "Special massage yes?"
"No. It's fine thanks, no massage there" I croak.
"Ok, if you want" She says with apparent disappointment. She then pinches my penis affectionately before covering me again with the towel. Then she belches, and I can suddenly smell garlic.
For F---ks sake! I think to myself.
The rest of the massage was pretty OK, though I was amazed my shoulders were able to take her full weight, as she leans down onto me, grunting garlic in my face and making the floor tremble.
The massage finished with a face massage, which was surprisingly good. Then she started punching me repeatedly on the forehead. What the F--k!
When she said it was over I dressed quickly, and almost fell down the stairs on the way out- my legs were like jelly. I couldn't tell if it was from the massage or the blows to the head making me concussed.
Me and Mrs Grasshopper met up again at our hotel, where she finds me writing this. We're gonna get lunch, have a nap, then shower and change into our travelling clothes for our overnight flight to Sydney.
I don't know if I will be able to sleep though. Not after that massage.
Our last night was spent drinking, like all travellers, up and down the Kho San road, chatting to other travellers. We finished up in our favorite bar in Bangkok, where I got comfortably pissed listening to Addy, a talented guitarist and singer we listened to when we first arrived in Bangkok. Surprisingly he recognised us, and played some of our favorite songs, and came over to shake my hand and say goodbye when his set was over.
Today, our final day in Thailand, Mrs Grasshopper decided to get her hair done, and urged me to have a massage.
Now I'm not much of a massage person (unless its my missus doing it of course!), but aching from injuries, bruises and strains, I relented and went while she got pampered in the salon. It was only 250 Baht for an hour, in a place we seen the previous day. It was above a resturant on the Kho San, but very professional looking and a world away from the dubious massage parlours of Nana Plaza, Patpong and the like. I chose an oil massage, figuring I'd prefer the relaxing deep tissue manipulation over the sadistic submission wrestling of traditional thai massage.
Now I was always a bit concerned about getting a massage, that I might, erm, "respond" shall we say. I'm a bloke after all. What if being half naked and rubbed all over by a pretty, slim, thai girl with delicate fingers causes an embarrassing, erm, "uprising"?....
... I needn't have worried.
My masseuse for the day was Shreks long-lost sister. Older, bigger, ugly-stick beaten sister. (Who clearly enjoys weight lifting as much as eating.)
"Take clothes off!" She says (booms) cheerfully as she shuts the curtains around me. She comes back a few minutes later to find me sitting on the mattress in my boxer shorts, looking slightly uncomfortable.
"All clothes off!" She laughs, and disappears (which was impressive for a girl her size). I duly removed my shreddies and wrapped myself in a towel. She reappears, whips the towel off me and flips me face-down onto the mattress.
"No problem!" She says (bellows) laughing.
Now the massage was initially very nice. As her ham-like fingers pushed my muscles up my back, my hair stood on end and I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. Then she starts digging her elbows in, with her full tonnage behind them. My eyes shoot open as I feel my ribs popping and seperating from my spinal column. Elbows are for fighting with! I think to myself, as she crushes a disk in my back. Then she starts on the back of my thighs with her huge hands.
Ahhh, now THAT is nice! I close my eyes again as she expertly manipulates my hamstrings, up from knee to buttock.
Was that her finger?! My eyes blink open in alarm as my scrotum shrivels up in shock and fear at her flicking finger. Maybe it was an accident, I think, and close my eyes.
She does it again!
"OK?" she asks, this time deliberately tickling my receding man-sack.
"Um, er, ha ha!" I respond fearfully, and push myself further up the mattress, away from the offending digit. She giggles, (making the floor tremble slightly) and continues massaging the back of my thighs. She does it faster and harder. I then start to seriously worry she's going to slip, and one of her banana sized fingers will bury its self in my back passage.
Thankfully my back is soon over. She flips me onto my front and I shyly try to cover my still-terrified todger.
"No Problem!" She laughs again "I see many many man penis!" throwing a towel over my groin.
I let go of my willy and put my hands by my sides, feeling foolish.
She then whips off the towel, and stares at my dick!
"Ooh, very good!" She says, patting it with an enormous finger and then quick-firing thai to one of the girls outside the curtain. The unseen thai girl replies, giggling. Are they laughing at me?
I'm aware I haven't trimmed my man-patch for some time, and my petrified "old-boy" feels like he's disappeared into my stomach.
I look down.
It resembles a white handkerchief in a thorn bush. A small white hanky at that.
They must be laughing.
She leans forward and whispers; "Men like massage round here" pointing around my groin. "You like, yeah?" She puts a colossal finger to her lips. "Shhhh! special massage!"
Is she offering to.....? I shake my head furiously, "Um, no, er, not at all, thank you, er, I'm married, er, no, no need" I stammer.
And petrified, a voice in my head says.
"Ohhhh, ok...." She says, looking crestfallen. "I like foreign man, very good, very big. And hairy here." She first pats my winky and then rubs my moderatly hairy chest. "Special massage yes?"
"No. It's fine thanks, no massage there" I croak.
"Ok, if you want" She says with apparent disappointment. She then pinches my penis affectionately before covering me again with the towel. Then she belches, and I can suddenly smell garlic.
For F---ks sake! I think to myself.
The rest of the massage was pretty OK, though I was amazed my shoulders were able to take her full weight, as she leans down onto me, grunting garlic in my face and making the floor tremble.
The massage finished with a face massage, which was surprisingly good. Then she started punching me repeatedly on the forehead. What the F--k!
When she said it was over I dressed quickly, and almost fell down the stairs on the way out- my legs were like jelly. I couldn't tell if it was from the massage or the blows to the head making me concussed.
Me and Mrs Grasshopper met up again at our hotel, where she finds me writing this. We're gonna get lunch, have a nap, then shower and change into our travelling clothes for our overnight flight to Sydney.
I don't know if I will be able to sleep though. Not after that massage.
Friday 4 April 2008
Leaving Home
I'm now sat in an internet cafe in Haad Rin. My bags are packed and next to me, and I have a few minutes before a Taxi collects us to go to the ferry. Unable to get a seat on the train, we then go overnight by bus back to Bangkok.
I'm always sad to leave a country, and this is no exception.
Ot took us this morning by the camp jeep to here, after emotional farewells back at camp.
In true traveller style, we celebrated the end of our time last night by getting legless with everyone from camp. Moo cooked me her favorite dish, and Mrs G and I brought plenty of Sangsom and Lao Cow. Deday, true to form, got through it admirably for such a small fella, and insisted I come back;
"Grasshopper, you come back. No Lady...." He points to Mrs G. "You no power, too much boomsing (sex). No lady, you more power, yaa, then you fight!" He laughs, making a sex sign with his hands, then pointing at me "Awww, no power, boomsing" he grimaces, mocking my exhausted state after training with him.
Ben, the camp manager settled our bill before we left, giving us serious discounts and not even charging for most of our stuff, such as food and soft drinks.
"Come back ok!" Was his last words, shaking my hand.
The weather this morning was overcast and wet after a night of rain, matching our mood. Now the suns out the humidity is stifling, we've left our little hut we've called home, and now I'm feeling somewhat melancholy. I just want to get to Bangkok now, sort out my stuff and get on the flight to Australia, to a family I haven't seen for years.
Travelling is almost over. It's been a long time since I was browsing through the possibilities on the 'net, sat in an office in the north of England with the rain drumming down, and a colleague who (correctly) thought I was a little mad, planning my dream of leaving everything and delving into the unknown.
But now, I'll soon be with my parents and brothers, at our final destination, and the dream will be complete.
Soon....
I'm always sad to leave a country, and this is no exception.
Ot took us this morning by the camp jeep to here, after emotional farewells back at camp.
In true traveller style, we celebrated the end of our time last night by getting legless with everyone from camp. Moo cooked me her favorite dish, and Mrs G and I brought plenty of Sangsom and Lao Cow. Deday, true to form, got through it admirably for such a small fella, and insisted I come back;
"Grasshopper, you come back. No Lady...." He points to Mrs G. "You no power, too much boomsing (sex). No lady, you more power, yaa, then you fight!" He laughs, making a sex sign with his hands, then pointing at me "Awww, no power, boomsing" he grimaces, mocking my exhausted state after training with him.
Ben, the camp manager settled our bill before we left, giving us serious discounts and not even charging for most of our stuff, such as food and soft drinks.
"Come back ok!" Was his last words, shaking my hand.
The weather this morning was overcast and wet after a night of rain, matching our mood. Now the suns out the humidity is stifling, we've left our little hut we've called home, and now I'm feeling somewhat melancholy. I just want to get to Bangkok now, sort out my stuff and get on the flight to Australia, to a family I haven't seen for years.
Travelling is almost over. It's been a long time since I was browsing through the possibilities on the 'net, sat in an office in the north of England with the rain drumming down, and a colleague who (correctly) thought I was a little mad, planning my dream of leaving everything and delving into the unknown.
But now, I'll soon be with my parents and brothers, at our final destination, and the dream will be complete.
Soon....
Wednesday 2 April 2008
No fight
"Grasshopper- You fight, 1 week!" Deday tells me one night after training. This will be his first of three goes during my stay.
I look down at my reduced beer belly. Carefully developed over nearly 2 years of not training, eating and drinking too much, by gut is now mercilessly mocked by Deday and Ot as it slowly flattens.
"No, not yet fit for fighting." I say, patting my stomach. "Maybe in 4 weeks" I reply.
"Nooo! You fight Pansak, friday ok?, No problem!" Deday persists.
"No, gimmi 4 weeks Deday. Ask again then-ok?".
He screws up his face and pulls hard on his bamboo-wrapped cigarette. "Jakwaar!" He finally replies.
That's Thai for wanker.
A week later I can't walk properly, injuring my foot and hip in sparring. Before long I can train again, at first avoiding kicking, and then slowly back into full muay Thai training.
Then it goes again after a particularly good training session, to the point that I struggle even using the squat toilet.
Not fit to fight.
I'm gutted.
But then realistically, I wouldn't have been all that up for fighting Pansak, a local fighter who I have had the pleasure of watching fight three times now during my stay here. Not because he's intimidating or scary- in fact he's one of the best personalities to fight, being a caring family man, the most honourable of sportsmen I've ever met and always keen to share a beer with his opponants after a fight and introduce his family.
But the fact he's just over 5 foot tall, and about 10 stone puts us on very different footings- I'm over 6 foot tall and over 13 stone.
Not a good match.
But then finding thai guys my size was always going to be a problem, so I knew I would be fighting a fellow farang. Deday was finally able to match me up with another farang, training at a gym across the island. After I leave.
Some things just weren't meant to happen.
I'm not surprised- My training in India was not possible for over a month due to a flu-like virus, and I was too easily drawn to socialising with colleagues and fellow volunteers in Goa. I knew that, and I knew I had little time to get back to full fighting fitness here in Thailand.
But I gave it a go. I've had an amazing time. I've trained, lived and really got to know the thai and Burmese trainers, fighters and staff here at the camp. Getting to know "Real Thailand" is not easy in a country so saturated, funded, and often overwhelmed with foreign tourists. I had "Bloggers block" when I got here- I had so little to say about such a tourist-spoilt country. I could see little culture that wasn't forced for the tourist Baht.
There was no challange like in India, where you were a westener getting by in a strange land. Here in Thailand, you were catered for, yet another tourist who will drink too much, waste too much, take too much, and go back home "travelled", paying anyone and everyone who has made it thier life making your travelling easy.
It was "easy" to travel around here, and so difficult to see the "true country".
But I feel I finally have. It took a while. The guys and girls here, Deday, Ot, Pon, Moo, Ek and the rest "bring you in". After so long, with the right attitude, your no longer another Farang, but a member of the camp, one of the family. You see the difference in their spirituality, faith, thinking, justifying, living. A culture so buried beneath the tourist Baht, beyond the sights, I thought I would never see it. But I got a glimps.
Suddenly, I realised I was in Thailand. Real thailand. I shake scorpions out of my shorts without a second thought, I eat salty fried grasshoppers with my beer, and share my lao cow with my thai friends using one glass, and never eat alone. The conversation, the banter, the fun- it never stops, despite our language differences.
I now have too much to write about. So I wont. And too much more to see. But I wont.
I could stay here indefinitly. Train, relax, work in the camp and maybe fight every few weeks- an idylic existance I would love. But then there is the north of the country. The boarder regions. Even the mainland. So much more to see, so many fellow tourists to share it with, so many thai's selling it, making it accessable.
So I'm not upset about not seeing it. I have had an amazing, unique time here. I got to train in a martial art I love, to a level higher than I have ever achieved, in the country it originates, with amazing people who's life and culture revolve around Muay Thai. I didn't get to fight during my time here. But I got to know a bit of Thailand. A real bit. A gem.
I'll never be the same again.
I look down at my reduced beer belly. Carefully developed over nearly 2 years of not training, eating and drinking too much, by gut is now mercilessly mocked by Deday and Ot as it slowly flattens.
"No, not yet fit for fighting." I say, patting my stomach. "Maybe in 4 weeks" I reply.
"Nooo! You fight Pansak, friday ok?, No problem!" Deday persists.
"No, gimmi 4 weeks Deday. Ask again then-ok?".
He screws up his face and pulls hard on his bamboo-wrapped cigarette. "Jakwaar!" He finally replies.
That's Thai for wanker.
A week later I can't walk properly, injuring my foot and hip in sparring. Before long I can train again, at first avoiding kicking, and then slowly back into full muay Thai training.
Then it goes again after a particularly good training session, to the point that I struggle even using the squat toilet.
Not fit to fight.
I'm gutted.
But then realistically, I wouldn't have been all that up for fighting Pansak, a local fighter who I have had the pleasure of watching fight three times now during my stay here. Not because he's intimidating or scary- in fact he's one of the best personalities to fight, being a caring family man, the most honourable of sportsmen I've ever met and always keen to share a beer with his opponants after a fight and introduce his family.
But the fact he's just over 5 foot tall, and about 10 stone puts us on very different footings- I'm over 6 foot tall and over 13 stone.
Not a good match.
But then finding thai guys my size was always going to be a problem, so I knew I would be fighting a fellow farang. Deday was finally able to match me up with another farang, training at a gym across the island. After I leave.
Some things just weren't meant to happen.
I'm not surprised- My training in India was not possible for over a month due to a flu-like virus, and I was too easily drawn to socialising with colleagues and fellow volunteers in Goa. I knew that, and I knew I had little time to get back to full fighting fitness here in Thailand.
But I gave it a go. I've had an amazing time. I've trained, lived and really got to know the thai and Burmese trainers, fighters and staff here at the camp. Getting to know "Real Thailand" is not easy in a country so saturated, funded, and often overwhelmed with foreign tourists. I had "Bloggers block" when I got here- I had so little to say about such a tourist-spoilt country. I could see little culture that wasn't forced for the tourist Baht.
There was no challange like in India, where you were a westener getting by in a strange land. Here in Thailand, you were catered for, yet another tourist who will drink too much, waste too much, take too much, and go back home "travelled", paying anyone and everyone who has made it thier life making your travelling easy.
It was "easy" to travel around here, and so difficult to see the "true country".
But I feel I finally have. It took a while. The guys and girls here, Deday, Ot, Pon, Moo, Ek and the rest "bring you in". After so long, with the right attitude, your no longer another Farang, but a member of the camp, one of the family. You see the difference in their spirituality, faith, thinking, justifying, living. A culture so buried beneath the tourist Baht, beyond the sights, I thought I would never see it. But I got a glimps.
Suddenly, I realised I was in Thailand. Real thailand. I shake scorpions out of my shorts without a second thought, I eat salty fried grasshoppers with my beer, and share my lao cow with my thai friends using one glass, and never eat alone. The conversation, the banter, the fun- it never stops, despite our language differences.
I now have too much to write about. So I wont. And too much more to see. But I wont.
I could stay here indefinitly. Train, relax, work in the camp and maybe fight every few weeks- an idylic existance I would love. But then there is the north of the country. The boarder regions. Even the mainland. So much more to see, so many fellow tourists to share it with, so many thai's selling it, making it accessable.
So I'm not upset about not seeing it. I have had an amazing, unique time here. I got to train in a martial art I love, to a level higher than I have ever achieved, in the country it originates, with amazing people who's life and culture revolve around Muay Thai. I didn't get to fight during my time here. But I got to know a bit of Thailand. A real bit. A gem.
I'll never be the same again.
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