I thought Ken was going to post this, but I guess he's busy spiking giant payouts and is too busy to pass it on.

A large group of us headed up to Wills Park on Monday to play a round of Disc Golf. I swung by Harry's for a fresh Calzone, and met Robbie at the park and chowed down while waiting for the others. It would have been a rather pleasant experience if not for the drunk redneck across the street yelling racial slurs and other obscene things at minorities (and as far as I could tell, imaginary people) for about a half an hour straight. While it was mostly a source of slight discomfort and amusement for me, I'm sure it was a lot more bothersome to the families with children on the playground. Fucking Honkies should learn to shut thier holes so we can all enjoy these last beautiful fall days.

You'd think the negative vibes would have to let up once everyone arrived and we started manuevering near the fields packed with young children at football practice, but to my further horror and amusement, as a group of about fifty children (I'd guess somewhere around 10 year olds) ran laps in practice pads, I heard the coach yelling his motivation...

"Hustle Up! don't be last! Move it, boys... Don't be last"

Holy shit! Are you serious? Does anybody even think about the things they say to little kids? Somewhere in Alpharetta there is a ten year old crying himself to sleep because he tried his hardest and couldn't keep up. Elsewhere in this town is a coach who sleeps well because he's confident he is helping his community... and probably figures that he's helped that child by motivating him not to be a "loser"

Don't be last.

What a great message to drill into our children's heads.

Fortunately, the day finished off on a much lighter note. Paul beaned Aziz in the face and broke his nose. We all got a hearty laugh out of that one.

Monday's House of Representatives failure to pass the Bailout plan will live in my heart as a great moment, a temporary, and beautiful resurgence of Americanism in the face of, for lack of a better term, the "Oligarchy"

I have no doubt that the bailouteers will find a way to make this happen. too many power players are driving this for it not to happen, and frankly, there is too much money in it and congressmen are too cheap for that slim of a margin to remain. By the end of the week generations of Americans will have been further indebted, we will be back on a path to another Great Depression, and the Oligarchs will have secured their position.

But it was like a little Boston Tea Party of our own. This bullshit bailout was backed by the President, the leaders of both parties in both the House and the Senate, The Bankers, the Academics, the Media, and the monied interests in America were in speaking in unison that they thought this was necessary, but thanks to independent resistence from both sides of the isle in the House, driven in many ways by an upswelling of hatred for the bailout by their constituents, it was narrowly shot down. It's the most beautiful government moment I've seen in my lifetime.

Frankly, I was shocked. Perhaps I'll be shocked once more and this will fail again. Dare I even hope that another failed attempt would prevent Berkanke from dropping his "helicopters of money" on the problem, as he has promised to do for Wall Street in the past? It has to be clear now, even to him, that it will not do any good, right?

It's almost fall, and that means that I get to be overcome once again by the full awesomeness of owning a convertible. Driving a convertible is really about getting the most out of your driving experience. While the people in traffic around me are cursing, breathing recycled air and feeling claustrophobic, I'm relaxed and smiling. I'm not a victim of rush hour, but I'm rather a part of my beautiful surroundings.

As the weather cools down, I further manipulate my driving experience by shifting my music choices to the more soulful and mellow sounds to maintain the pleasing atmosphere. Yesterday, on my way to Dragoncon, I was listening to Al Green's Definitive Greatest Hits. I could wax on about the beauty of this collection for some time, but that's not why I'm writing this, I'm going to tell you about how my music choice rebounded in a positive vibe with the people of downtown Atlanta.

Just before arriving at 'con, I pulled into an Arby's for a sandwich and drink. I turned the music down to place my order at the menu, and pumped it back up as I pulled around to the window, just in time for "Love and Happiness" to begin. Al's light crooning over the opening guitar licks subtly set up the song as I handed my money over to the cashier, a black lady in her early 30s. As the drums and electric organ swelled in I could see she was visibly taken aback for just a second, when she turned to me and said "Wooo boy, whatchyou know about that?" and grabbed my hand in a half high five, half dance-like motion. She was immediately smiling, and was dripping with friendliness as she went off to get my food, and passed it to me. As I was driving off, she advised me to enjoy myself.

This kind of small interaction can really make your day, and I won't lie to you, it affected me in as positive a way as possible. I enjoyed my time at 'con, and afterwards I stopped by Adrienne's place over on Ponce to hang out with her and Chike. Leaving a few hours later, I was playing "Look what you done for me" while sitting at the stoplight to turn onto North Ave. Now, I gotta tell ya, If you haven't been to Adrienne's place, it's not in the best neighborhood. There are young pharmaceutical entreprenuers chasing the American Dream right out in front of her place, and a slightly depressing lot of their clientele roaming around.

Stopped at the light, an older man in very worn clothes, with a ragged beard began to cross over towards me. I made the snap judgement having only seen him out of my peripheral vision, that he was hoping to score some spare change from me. It wasn't until he was right up on me that I looked at his face, where I noticed he was smiling and singing along, a little hop in his step. He walked around the back of my car, clearly having gone out of his way not to panhandle, but to be closer to the soulful grooves I was sharing with him. I couldn't help but crack a large smile as I pulled onto North Ave, feeling those same grooves myself.

As unlikely as it may seem, this was not my final encounter sharing a vibe the the downtown residents. Stopped at the intersection of Peachtree and North, my speakers pumping perhaps Green's most recognizable jam, "Here I Am", I was digging in my glovebox for a hairtie when I heard a commotion off to my left, and looked up to see, in the left turn lane, a small brown sedan. In the passenger seat was a young girl of 16 or so, looking both embarassed and amused, but drumming along to the song on the side of the car. In the drivers seat, was the source of her embarassment (and amusement), Her mother was vivaciously dancing and singing along, her hands flailing in the air to the music. I gave them a big smile, and a peace sign as the light changed and I pulled away, my day made brighter by my newfound kinship with the folk of downtown.

Soul music clearly connects with people's... souls. I drive around all the time spewing my music like any old noise pollution. Hip Hop, Metal, Reggae, you name it, I've played it. but I only get reactions like this when listening to the soul greats. I can remember a pretty young girl dancing and singing along at the gas pump next to mine as I played Stevie Wonder's "As" while pumping my gas. While I still regret not having struck up a conversation with the girl, I do realize now that it wasn't necessarily an indicator of interest, but she may have just been overcome by the joy that Stevie brings to your heart with his incredible composition.

heh, only I could take this beautiful life lesson, and turn it into a rationalization for social awkwardness.

The lesson I would like to take from this, is that our interactions with people can have a positive or negative imprint on the rest of their day, and maintaining a positive attitude is not only valuable for your mindset, but for everyone you interact with as well, and by extension, your whole community.

So smile, and listen to some soul music

be warned, I'm talking about movie endings here so spoilers are abundant. I've underlined all film titles so you can read a little ahead and stop yourself from spoiling a movie if you haven't seen it already

I've given a lot of thought to filmmaking recently. Coming off of such a good year for cinema, and getting closer to the point in life where I'm going to have to start going down the filmmaking path.. or realize I'll never do it, I've just been turning over ideas more and more. tonight I rewatched Spartacus, and it got me thinking about what set it apart from the other great historical epics like Ben Hur, Lawrence of Arabia, and the like. It's the powerful ending. Good films can most easily become great films in their last few minutes.

Many films seemed on the cusp of greatness, only to come crashing down at the very end. Some films, like A.I. and Braveheart are already there, and could just have edited the last lame bit out. Some movies set themselves up so that they require stupidity to resolve, despite having been so previously promising. I put Batman Begins and Gangs of NY in this category. (Batman Begins does get a positive note for the Joker teaser tucked in after the stupid train sequence and ridiculous microwave water plot) Finally, some movies like Heat and The Game that otherwise aspire to greatness just screw it up for no concievable reason.

One way screenwriters try to avoid the problem is to wrap the whole plot of the movie up in a twist to shock the audience. While this often works to prevent a movie from having a bad ending, it doesn't seem to propel anything to greatness. Think about it, all the great "twist" movies, Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Memento, Usual Suspects, Se7en, and Planet of the Apes (1968) were all fun to watch, and often rewatch, but it's hard for them to snuggle into our hearts as favorites or all time greats, probably because the movie was focused on making that ending, probably sacrificing good storytelling to accomplish it.

It is possible to accomplish greatness with just all around feel goody-ness. It's a Wonderful Life, The Shawshank Redemption, and to a lesser extent Field of Dreams all finish this way, and strongly as well. That isn't very intriguing though, it's just good writing, and none of those movies actually finish stronger than they played.

This list started out as my top 10 movie endings, but I liked it better as:

Ten great ways to end a great movie

1. Kick the audience in the face with an ironic song

Two of the best movie endings use this technique, both Life of Brian and Dr. Strangelove.  It's worthy of note that this seems to be the top technique for comedies, as no other comedies get a mention through this whole list. Strangelove also employed a few of my other favourite techniques in it's ending, which isn't very surprising because Stanley Kubrick is one of my favorite directors, which would naturally influence the kind of endings I like.

2. Tie in your introductory motif

This was going to be the time where I describe how awesome the ending of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is, but in order to do that, It would have to be something like "Be Sergio Leone" another movie that does this well is Amelie. TGTB&TU also finishes with one of the more incredible score moments in film history, unbelievable tension, and a false cliffhanger ending. If you can wrap up your film with that much awesomeness, how can you go wrong?

3. Hit your audience with a Paradigm Shift

The Bicycle Thief is a hard movie for most viewers to make it through. It's really slow, and you can't "get it" until the end, when you understand the movie was all about getting you into the heart of a man who has to become what he hates. It's as sad an ending as I've ever seen, and has to be in consideration for greatest ending of all.

4. Have your hero give a big "fuck off" to all the regular people who let him down

There might just be too much realism in High Noon's ending, where you get to see a good man abandoned by everyone he's stood up for in the past, but it's all made up for when Gary Cooper abruptly tosses his tin star in the dirt and rides out of town.

5. Kill Everybody

I really need to figure out what specifically you need to do to Kill Everybody to make an awesome ending. It worked best in Glory, but was done well in a very different fashion in Night of the Living Dead. Hell, I even loved the montage at the end of Return of the Living Dead, which has become a staple ending in the horror genre. I think what really sets Glory apart is that in your heart you think it's gonna work out.

6. Wrap it up suddenly and tightly

There Will Be Blood delivered an ending of unbelievable power, with one of the great last lines, followed with a musical drop and the very appropriate title. Pure Genius.

7. Shock the audience with a heroic sacrifice

What makes Casablanca's ending superior to all the other sacrifices and shocking twists that populate cinema history, is that we already really like Rick, and still have a hard time expecting him to make this very heroic sacrifice. It's also helpful that the movie finishes with what Harry (Billy Crystal) called "the best last line in a movie, ever" I think that was even true, until There Will Be Blood.

8. A great Ironic juxtaposition

Irony is obviously a valuable tool for concluding a film strong, and it's shown at it's finest in Quills, with the Marquis' caretaker having been driven to the same madness he helped drive the Marquis into in the first place. Jacquin Pheonix really sells it here. I imagine this is tried unsuccessfully in bad B movies all the time.

9. Taint your happy ending with a bit of unhollywood

It's pretty easy to miss, so easy in fact that there are plenty of people who don't remember that Rocky lost his championship fight with Apollo Creed, it was just a great accomplishment that he made it to a decision.

10. Find Inspiration in Desperation

Few movie endings are as depressing as Spartacus, except that he gets to see the love of his life, and his newborn son as free people. It would be a pretty happy go lucky ending if he wasn't nailed to a cross, and he watches them go down the road where thousands of slaves are also crucified, for no reason other than they loved him too much to let him die for them.

Okay, so I guess this really just ended up being a top 10 movie endings list, just with an excuse to not order them, and mention more than 20 great movie endings.
Good Enough.

I feel wierd blogging about guac while I've still not finished documenting southeast asia, but what the fuck, when the mood strikes....

I wasn't in a very good mood today, and for no particular reason either. I was running fine at poker, I had a great time at the return of the Toadies last night, i've been listening to good music all day, I had a good nights rest. Really, life's good. Sometimes your brain just downshifts your mood a little, and so here I was in a lackluster mood, and it was time to start on the Guac I'd been planning on making for Taco Wednesday.

If you're one of my friends who are not aware of/participants in Taco Wednesday, it's a weekly event over at the Big House where we make Tacos and hang out in the middle of the week. It's been running strong for almost half a year, and it's as much a part of my permanent schedule as anything. Usually Don Smith is head chef, with primary support coming from KK (who is pretty much the Big House's default chef outside of Wednesday) but it's a team event for sure. Paul and Aziz regularly pitch in for cooking, and even Dan, JJ, and Zach jump in on occasion. I often pitch in to help, as do many of the regular guests at Taco Wednesday. Occasionally I'll bring a Guac or salsa or something as do others.

Yesterday at the BH Farmer's Market there were a bunch of overripe Avacados on sale, so I picked up 8 of them and the fixin's for a top notch guac. I put on Atomic Bitchwax on the stereo, and proceeded to prep my work area. as I got into the rythm of dicing peppers, tomatoes, and onions, I slowly felt my mood pick up. As I moved on to gutting and mashing the Avocados, I was really in a positive groove. I was moderately frustrated when I discovered I was out of Limes, but I fine tuned the flavor as best I could with lemon juice and imagining what the Lime flavor would be like when I add it later. aside from that one hiccup, it was a joyous process, and one that single handedly picked up my mood. I finished out by taking some of the Guac and blending it with my Veggie Puree, to make a hybrid guac that has some extra zing and a lot of extra health value.

While I'm pretty happy with the result, it was not the result that inspired me to write this, it was the process. I hypothesize that as a person who doesn't make his living being particularly productive anymore, Getting my hands on a productive project occassionally will have a good theraputic effect.

Perhaps my father didn't instill me with the greatest work ethic in the world, but it's not because he didn't try. There is still something in my Edwards blood (or at least my Edwards synapses) that craves productivity, and creation. As my mood picked up during my solitary kitchen time, I reflected on this quite a bit.

When considering where my life is going, I often consider my poker career as a step towards something else, but "something else" is not clearly defined for me, and I have a feeling that as long as I continue down this path, I'll continue to consume via resources that come from a relatively unproductive job, and won't really become the kind of producer that I imagined I would be when I was growing up.

It's a side of being a professional gamer that is hard to put into proper words. When I had the store, there wasn't a question I was being productive. My community was a better place because of what I was doing. As much as I enjoy the thrill of professional gaming, especially now that I'm playing a format that has a lot of depth, I wonder how my psyche will handle being pretty much a professional consumer.

I feel better now, and I'll still be playing poker, and go right back to business as usual, but my mind will be wandering just a little bit in the future. I don't think I'll be content with this role in life for particularly long, at least not without some kind of revelation or mental alteration.

Swing by the Big House for a taste of what you can do when you combine Avocados and Introspection.

I woke up on Sunday and arranged with Daw to get me a ride in a minibus to Wat Pha Luang Ta Bua, aka the Tiger Temple. She arranged for a 2 PM pickup, and I headed on down the road to look for an open pharmacy to treat my now irritated burn wound. Walking down the main road, I am called over by Jimmy, a San Fransiscan who has been in Asia for the better part of his life since the Vietnam War, and who now owns a used bookstore/bar here in Kanchanaburi. We bullshit for awhile, and he informs me I made a mistake not going to Tiger Temple earlier in the day (around noon to 1) when the Tigers were still in their natural habitat. He, like most people I talked to, believe they dope the Tigers up in the afternoon when you can pet them.

Now, I’ve heard arguments both ways, and I have no idea what to believe, but the Temple itself says that the Tigers are meek in the afternoon because they played outside all morning, and are lazy in the hot heat of the sun. They are also pretty tame in general, having been raised by the Buddhist monks at the temple.

Jimmy does tell me that there are a few maulings a year up at the Temple, usually the result of some little brat poking at the eyes of a Tiger or something like that. I was already unlikely to abuse the cats, so I figure I’m pretty safe. Even mean dogs seem to like me, so why wouldn’t otherwise tame Tigers feel the same?

I have a beer with Jimmy, and we chat about this and that, while Jimmy catcalls at every female that walks within 10 yards of his bookbar, and shills at every western dude that walks by. Jimmy also has a Thai girl working for him, Kai, who works really, really hard to keep his business going, and a bevy of characters who are regulars at his place. I’ll get more into that later, as I spent quite a bit of time drinking at Jimmy’s bookbar over the next two days.

At two o’clock i’m back at Morning Guest House waiting for my minibus, when I discover that the phrase "minibus" is a little stretching it. It’s actually a little pickup truck with seats along the bed, and a roof over it. I hop in the back, and ride to the Tiger Temple.

Now, the story of the temple is a sweet one. It started out as a nature preserve, and a nearby villager killed a Tiger only to discover it had a newborn cub, and brought the cub to the Temple to be taken care of. The cub later dies, but in the future more cubs are brought to the refuge of the temple. This story is contested by many people, including government officials who say that most of the tigers were previously pets that are moved there as laws are passed to protect tigers. I have no idea what the truth is, but I do know that sometime in the past few years, the tigers have started to be chained up as more tourists are coming in, and it’s very sad.

I don’t know if I can actually feel bad about this situation. I think these tigers have it better than most zoo tigers do, and in the wild they’d be hunted and killed. These Tigers are breeding naturally, which must mean they are happier than zoo tigers, right? I can’t help but be depressed by seeing the Tigers with chains around their necks, but it was an incredible experience to be able to pet these gigantic, fierce creatures.

As I walk into Tiger Canyon, I learn that the price of admission includes the ability to pet the tigers, and have guides take your picture with your camera. If you want a pic with a tiger’s head in your lap, it’s an extra 1000 baht (about $30) I’m not so intrigued by that, so I just get in line for the regular pics/petting. When I get to the front of the line, I’m told to take off my hat, leave my bag behind, and turn the flash off on my camera. There is a big group of tour guides, and as the guy in charge starts to explain how it’s going to work, I just hand off my camera to the cute girl that’s standing nearby. This secures me having her for a guide, and her cute friend as my "hand holder"



One tour guide takes your pics, while the other holds your hand at all times you aren’t petting the tigers, and leads you around. You’re told very politely to shut up and be quiet when inside Tiger Canyon, and not to make sudden moves or startle the tigers.

I’m led one by one to the tigers to pet them. Most of them are lazing around napping in the sun,  although the first one I pet is awake and aware the second I touch him



The rest of the tigers are dozing or barely awake. I was intrigued by the idea of what would happen if I snuggled up with this pair dozing on the rocks, but recalled  the story of the little girl who probably was about as intrigued about what would happen if she poked a tiger in the eye.



Not long after I was done petting this gigantic beast



He was up and prowling around



I noticed they didn’t bring anyone over to pet him while he was in this mood. I probably narrowly missed a good mauling :)

I hung around Tiger Canyon for a little while, watching the tigers and the people interact with them, but seeing all the chained tigers began to wear on me, and I left. The other attraction here were the "Tiger Cages" and in my state of mind, I didn’t think that sounded enjoyable at all, but lo and behold, it was to be the highlight of the day.

The "Tiger Cages" are where they keep the cubs, and there’s a monk there playing with them. You get to hand off your camera again, and play with a tiger cub for a little while. I had a real blast with this, as I was actually interacting with a Tiger Cub like I would a puppy. It wasn’t chained or anything! I would play with the Tiger, but the monk was more interested in making the cub photogenic, which was a bit of a shame, as it took away some of the joy I was having playing with the cub.



This bit really saved the experience for me, and was one of the highlights of the trip for me.

Eventually, I headed back to the minibus, and was brought back to Morning House. I took a nap and a shower, and woke up hungry. It was a little after dark, and I decided I’d hike down to the nightmarket to get some food. Duen, one of the sisters running the Guest House, was going shopping at the grocery store, and kindly offered me a ride on her motorbike to the Night Market. I accepted her sweet offer, and it was farther than I had thought, making it even more valuable.

I had a bunch of random things from various vendors. It was a little odd to interact with vendors who didn’t speak english, but I was able to get by. It was clear that I was an oddity here, I didn’t see any other tourists, it was all locals, and I got the kind of (friendly) stares that alerted me that It was unusual for Farang to be around here. After browsing the market, I hiked down the road to the bookbar to have a few beers.

I took a motorbike taxi to the bus station to meet Donut. I’m not a big fan of the idea of riding around on a motorbike without a helmet, but I thought this was a smaller town so it wasn’t as big of a danger. I was instead surprised to discover that Kanchanaburi was bigger than I had initially thought. It’s a reasonably sized town, probably about 100,000 is my guess but I don’t have internet access to figure it out.

 

Fortunately for me I made it to the bus station with no problems, only to burn my leg on the exhaust pipe as I got off of the bike. It took me a few minutes to find Donut, and we hiked over to the 7-11 to get some drinks (I bought the last two Zenya pomegranite green teas) and snacks. The bus ride was a bit of an adventure itself. Not ideally designed for people over six feet tall, it was otherwise acceptable. I’d hit my head on the ceiling if I stood straight up in the aisle, and there were fans dangling from it in random places. The seats had me sitting with my knees up on the backs of the chair in front of me. I probably couldn’t have taken a 3 hour ride, but this one was just over an hour, not so bad.

I’d gotten to know Donut a little better on the ride to the Erawan Falls. She works five days a week in Bangkok, but only gets a vacation once every 4 months. It means something to me that she is giving up valuable vacation time with her family to show me around. Her vacation is only 3 days, so this was a pretty big sacrifice. She also keeps trying to pay her own way, which I had no choice but to let fly the first time it happened, but I was able to nip it in the bud later on. If she’s going to be nice enough to spend precious family time as my tour guide, I’m certainly going to pay the way. This ended up being almost a meaningless gesture on my part, as Thai people are charged significantly less to see the falls than farang are. The bus was also dirt cheap, and we had one meal that her part of was worth about a dollar.

 

Our bus arrives at Erawan Falls, and we hop out. It cost me 200 baht to get in, and another 40 baht to get Donut in. A short hike up the road, and we see the first of seven steps to the falls. Now to say that there are seven steps is not to say that there are only seven nice falls to the place. I saw at least two sweet spots not covered in the official seven steps. Donut tells me that she has been here many times, but it’s too far to go up past the third step. I’m only a little disconcerted, as I’ve discovered that Thai women are itching to catch an infectious excitement, and I can bleed infectious excitement when I want to. Donut has been many times, but never past the third step.

 

The first three steps are beautiful, and crowded. One of the things that makes Erawan Falls so nice is that the falls tend to end in pools great for a swim. The water is clear, clean, and enticing. I purposefully get us to zoom through the first three steps so we have plenty of time to move past. Somewhere on the way they made us check all our disposable plastic. For a small fee we were allowed to bring plastic bottles with us, that were marked so that we had to show them we brought them back down with us at the end of the day. Nice. The only litter I remember seeing were some cigarette butts in a tree trunk. Yet another reason why smoking is a disgusting habit.

unfortunately, at no point did monkeys try to steal our stuff 

I have to interrupt this story to point out that as I’m writing this on the front porch of my cabana, Daw just hiked down the street to deliver me a plate of her awesome pineapple snack crackers. You would think I would run out of love for all the sweet people I have met on this trip, but like the grinch it seems my heart has grown three sizes on my journey to the land of smiles.

a young girl balances on the lip of one of the many cascades

Back to the story at hand, Donut agrees to move past the third step and try going a little farther. I hope that I am right and it was an infectious attitude that did it, and not her caving in to appease me. I did really want to go to the top, and I was very happy that she agreed to keep going, but I was not sure how far she’d actually make it.

 

These fish would come right up to you and eat the dead skin off of your flesh. They were apparantly responsible for saving many a leg from gangrene during WWII.

It was a reasonable climb, and we took a break near the fifth step and sat with our feet in the cool, clear water. I slowly started getting more adventurous as we moved up. By the sixth step I’d taken my shoes off and was walking around. At a pool halfway to the seventh step, I’d decided to go over to a small waterfall, and slipped on the muddy rock at the entrance and fell in most of the way. Donut must’ve tried to help me not fall, as she shortly fell in as well. It was just as comical as it sounds. There were multiple opportunities before and after for us to seriously hurt ourselves with a fall, and this one got my shirt a little muddy, and got Donut a little wet and muddy also. Donut’s too sweet to wish anything ill on her, but for my part I’ll say that my experience was hightened by the incident probably more than hers was dampened.

This was the hidden fall where I busted my ass in the mud

A little later I found a hidden fall and climbed up. With just a bit of encouragement Donut followed, and we got to see a very pretty, mostly undisturbed setting.

Rudy disturbing the undisturbed setting

By the time we reached the top, Donut was also a bit adventurous, climbing around and up boulders, wading through small pools, taking only slight risks, but risks nonetheless. I walked across a fallen tree trunk to reach a higher level, and finally she’d decided she’d gone far enough. I realized that my previous prods to get her to go a little farther all included scenes of incredible beauty just around the corner, but this one was tougher, because we were in a hell of a gorgeous spot already, so I let it go. On the way back down, I decided I wanted to skip the tree trunk, and slide into the pool underneath it, so I laid down and put my camera on a ledge where I could reach it from below, and slid down into the pool.

the pointy nature of this log made it more difficult to cross, but it was stable

Now, this was probably the riskiest thing I’d done here. No one was swimming in this particular pool, and the water was chalky enough here that I could not see very deep. It wouldn’t have been much of a stretch for me to have hurt myself pretty badly in an area where it would take maximum effort of the locals to get me to a hospital. Fortunately, the water was deep, the bottom was flat, and the water was great.

Clean comes to mind. It almost had the flavor of chlorine. If I ever come back to Kanchanaburi, I’ll make a plan to spend a whole day swimming here. Hell, I might go back and swim for a whole day on this trip. It seems a popular pastime with the locals.

 

Donut and I slowly worked our way back down the mountain, and at the bottom discovered that we’d be waiting an hour for a bus, so we had a meal. I ate a Pad Thai Mu (Pork) after a plate of Watermelon and Pineapple. It was my first real food of the day, for breakfast I’d eaten some of those small bananas that someone had kindly left on my balcony, and that was all. Donut had pork ball soup with flat noodles. I’d tried a taste and it was pretty good.

 

We hopped back on a bus, this one a little bit smaller, and headed back to town. I’d asked to move to a forward seat that had more leg room, and Donut obliged. It was thusly that I discovered what a good job of seat selection Donut had. She was constantly getting us seats near the middle with good window access. Further up, everytime the driver honked the horn (which was plenty) it got very annoying. The extra leg room was great, though, as I was in a bit of pain for the last bit of the trip.

 

A lady sat in front of us, who was reasonably attractive. The drivers rear view mirror afforded us direct viewing of each other’s faces, and she was clearly giving me looks in the mirror encouraging me to start up a conversation with her. I probably wasn’t particularly interested anyway, and I was being fully entertained by Donut so I had little desire to start up a conversation with her, but then the mystery lady made a point to turn around and look at Donut with disdain. What a bitch. Donut was even in the middle of doing something nice for me when she did it (I think getting something from my bag) Perhaps something about my actions was encouraging to her. Maybe I came across as a wayward boyfriend with a wandering eye or something, but what a terrible way to interact with people.

 

It’s a good reminder not to take the sweethearts like Donut for granted when you meet them. It’s not just the Thai culture that makes people nice, Donut clearly is Jai Dee (has a good heart, a very important phrase in Thailand) While I’m complimenting Donut again, let me also point out something else that made her very endearing, her quick and complete willingness to say "no" when most people would beat around the bush, and mean "no." an example comes to mind, and I’ll give it.

 

On the train trip, after having pet her bunny Sticky Rice, I’d had a desire to hold him. After an hour of Sticky Rice being cooped up in a basket, Donut had moved his basket into her lap so she could offer me that spot on her bench to put my feet up. (It really just doesn’t quit with this girl, she’s always doing nice things) I asked her if I could hold Sticky Rice to pet him, and she looked at me straight away, and said "no" in the fashion of someone trying to make clear to a little child that playing with electric cords is a bad idea. She later explained that he was already scared from the noise, and If I wasn’t vigilant he could jump out the window. I’d actually only intended to open the cage and pet him, but that’s not the point, the point is that when I’d asked a question that the answer should be "no" to, she said "no", not a long convoluted answer that would mean "no" if I understood it.

 

We got off the bus a little early, within easy walking distance to the Bridge over the River Kwai. For quick linguistic reference, Kwai is pronounced Kwah like Poo-Bah, not Kwigh like High. When pronounced like high, it’s a word that means water buffalo, or slang for people who are mentally "slow". It was kind of cool to see the bridge, which even a few years ago was still a wooden railway bridge, but has recently been structurally shored up.

After the bridge, Donut asked me if there was anything else I wanted to see, and all I knew I wanted to see was already closed for the day, so she told me she would be going home now. I asked her if I could take her out to dinner for her trouble, and she responded with yet another quick "No", explaining that her mom was making her dinner, and I was reminded once again that I was interrupting her holiday with her parents. She gave me her email address, (sillilly forgetting to give her mine in return, which will be fine as soon as I write her anyway) and she asked me to send her some of the pictures. I had so quickly made a new friend in this place, but I was already alone again.  I would not be surprised if Donut and I become lifelong friends, however. She seems to be the epitome of Jai Dee.

I’m just improvising now, and I feel lucky that when I show up to the train station it’s obvious to the ticket man where I’m going. I dig in my pocket for the notebook that has the name of the city, when he says "you want ticket to Kanchanaburi?" apparently the only place a westerner is likely to go on this train is where I’m going. My train doesn’t leave for almost an hour, so I pull out the laptop and start working on this blog, when I notice that a train has been sitting for about 10 minutes, and has the same departure city as my ticket says. I try and figure out what train number it is, and eventually just start showing random people my ticket and pointing at the train quizzically. Eventually, I discover that it is my train.

It would have been nice to have started boarding earlier, but I find a seat, and have to put my bag over someone else’s seat because there’s a bag in the overhead rack above my seat. I discover in just a few minutes that this meant someone had reserved the seat, so I grab all my gear and start over. I look confused enough that a young lady invites me to join her in her booth, and I make a new friend. Two new friends, actually, Donut and her pet bunny Sticky Rice.

 

It’s a clear mistake if you are Thai to ever tell an American what your nickname means if you have more than one syllable in your nickname. The American will never be able to remember anything but the English word for your name.

 

Donut works in Bangkok, running servers for Korean online games. The only one I remember the name of is Ragnarok. Her family lives in Kanchanaburi and starts chatting me up about my plans and what I want to see. A little while later she offers to show me around on Saturday. Kris was convinced that the sisters who worked at Morning Guest House were the nicest people he’d ever met. I’m not sure that the people of Kanchanaburi aren’t just the most hospitable people in the world.

 

The train ride is fairly uneventful. Every few stops people get on and offer food for sale, mostly food similar to street food in Bangkok. When Donut and I run out of easy conversation, she pulls out an mp3 player, and only puts in one earbud, the international symbol for "I’m going to listen to my music, but you are welcome to interrupt me at any moment", although I’m not sure Donut knows that she had communicated in an international fashion. I didn’t until I noticed her doing it, and remembered doing the same thing two days ago with A.

 

The Thai countryside is pretty, a mix of jungle and rice fields. The train isn’t terribly uncomfortable, but it’s not cozy. It’s very easy to stand up and walk around a bit, so it’s not much of a problem. Towards the end of our trip, Donut gives me her phone number, and I tell her I’ll call her to arrange things. She says, "you can call everytime, because now we are friends"

 

Donut really is a sweetheart. As we’re about to reach the station, she lets me and this older Danish couple sitting across the aisle from us know that we should get ready to depart. When the train stops she jumps out of the car and takes the couple’s luggage out through the window. Just as we’re arriving in Kanchanaburi, giant drops of rain start to patter about. Donut rushes off to avoid getting soaked, but first securing me a Tuk Tuk driver that knows where my guest house is. 10 seconds after I’m in the Tuk Tuk, a deluge begins so suddenly that I have to immediately scoop up my laptop to keep it from getting wet.

I’m soaked by the time we get to my guest house, but I appear to have kept my baggage mostly dry. I’m told when I arrive that rooms are 250 baht/night (that’s about $8) up from 150b when Kris was staying here, but that is near inconsequential to me. The room is a real cabana, with no A/C but a ceiling fan that’ll keep you pretty cool. It’s small, but has it’s own bathroom and shower, never a given when staying at places this cheap. Even more impressive, occasionally Daw, one of the sisters who runs the place (I think daughter of the owner) will cook me some food.

 

When I arrived the electricity was off due to the rainstorm. I believe this was done purposefully to prevent problems. Daw informed me it would be back .. the rain died down some. Already soaked, I hiked down to the Kwai River just a hundred yards or so down a gravel road, and watched under a gondola as the boats sped by in the rushing waters. Eventually, a group of about 5 kayakers came by as well. This should be a cool place to spend a few days.

I hiked up to the main office/convenience store/taxi stand to get something cold to drink, and after chatting about what Kris was doing these days, Daw offered to cook me up some fried rice with Prawns. First she asked if I could eat meat (Kris was a vegetarian and she remembered that, confirming that she wasn’t just pretending to remember the name of some random person I said had referred me) then asked if I could take it spicy. When I told her I like it spicy, she didn’t hold back. My rice was chock full of thai peppers. It burned, but was good. I hadn’t eaten much on the day, and had slept even less the night before, so once the electricity was back on and I could turn on the fan, I took a solid 4 hour nap.

I woke up at about 9 p.m., and rumbled on down to the front office for a beer. As I sat down to drink my beer, out of the back comes Daw with some crackers held together with a pineapple paste not dissimilar to jam, but thicker. It hit the spot, and I could kind of tell that she had awoken from a nap herself to make this for me. She let me use her phone so I could arrange to meet Donut, and told me she’d wake me up in the morning to be on time. I did mention I’m only paying $8/night to stay here, right?

I was more intrigued by the idea of sleep than in exploring the city any, so I went back to my room and crashed hard. I was surrounded by actual jungle sounds from the actual jungle out back of my cabana

Wednesday night after Aziz and Josh left, Dan, Pat, and I played a few games of pool on Soi 11. On the way back, both a bit drunk, they got into another fight over nothing. I let them go on and fight, and I went for a walk, it was about 3 P.M. I stopped at one of the street bars to have a rum and coke, and flirted with the bartender while hookers tried to flirt with me.

 

Hiking up the Suk into the Soi 30s and back, I considered what I would do by myself in Thailand. I really wanted to take a train trip to Kuala Lumpur, stopping on the way in Hua Hin and maybe a few other places, but every time I mention this to anyone they tell me it’s a bad idea. I could just stay in Bangkok giving me more time with A and Noon, but I’ve had weeks of staying in the same place doing the same things. Now that I’m alone there’s nothing holding me back from adventure, I just need an adventure to go on.

 

If I want adventure, one option is Pattaya. Pattaya is about 2 hours away from Bangkok by car, a small beach down very similar to Myrtle Beach. The Beach is crappy, but it caters to tourists, and by tourists I mean whorists. I could just spend my few days alone in Thailand neck deep in degeneracy.

 

I’m still unsure of what I want to do when I go to Kris’s condo on Thursday. Kris is a Swedish poker player, who read my post on two plus two (a poker forum) about the hotel we were staying at, and decided to use it while he was coming to Bangkok to find a condo. We’d since become friends, and Monday he’d moved in to a place he’d secured a six month lease on. The condo is decent. For under $500/month he got a large one room place with a double bed, a reasonable bathroom, A/C, furniture, and wireless internet good enough to play poker on. Like many apartments in BKK, it had no kitchen, but a sink out on the balcony where he’d plugged in a hot plate to give himself the ability to cook. Kris is a vegetarian and wants the ability to cook his own meals.

 

I discuss what my plans are with Kris, and after awhile we discuss Koh Somet and Kanchanaburi. Koh Somet is a beach town about 4 hours drive from Bangkok. The road to which conveniently runs through Pattaya so I could even stop by degeneracity for a day or two If I wanted. Kanchanaburi is about 2 hours in the other direction and has a beautiful waterfall, A Buddhist temple with tame tigers you can pet, and other temples scattered on the edge of a mountain range. Kris shows me some pictures which get me more excited about Kanchanaburi, and then he tells me about the place he stayed, Morning House. He described the sisters who ran it as the nicest people he’d ever met. The lodgings were pretty rustic, but very cheap. I’d decided on my plan.

 

I said a tentative goodbye to Noon, and went for a two hour Thai massage followed by dinner with A, and bid her farewell also.

 

The next day I woke up early and went to a travel agent. I had the agent book me a flight from Bangkok to Kuala Lumpur on Tuesday, and tried to get a van to Kanchanaburi. The travel agent was not much help, basically telling me to go to a bus station and catch a bus. She tried to call the station and find out when buses were leaving for Kanchanaburi, but no one answered. I took the phone number and left. I asked Joy at the hotel reception to call and find out for me when the buses leave. Joy was a very cute girl who worked morning shift at the hotel. I’d only recently befriended her when I saw her myspace account open on the hotel computer. I just blatently asked if I could friend her on myspace, and since she’s been very friendly with me. (this is not to imply she was unfriendly before, but I didn’t really interact with her much)

 

I did a little research online and found out there was a train that would take about 3 hours leaving from Bangkok at 1:45. I finished packing up and checked out. Joy had since found out buses leave every 30 minutes from a specific station. I had her write down in Thai the name of the train station I wanted, and bid her and Sam’s Lodge goodbye. Noon hadn’t come to work yet, and while I’d pretty much said goodbye to her the day before, I wasn’t sure then I was leaving, so I was hoping maybe she’d come into work early. No such luck.

 

On my way to the train station I also bid a farewell to Fon, the laundry lady. Fon was way hotter than a laundry lady had any right to be, and was always dressed a little sexy. Her laundry service was a little pricier than others around town, but she was right across the street from our hotel, and I always smiled when I walked in to see her in a sexy outfit running her laundry business. She was also absurdly friendly, and this called for a visit to say goodbye and pay her an honest compliment before I was gone.  

 

I was off to the train station, once again roaming free

A was my fourth Massuesse in Bangkok. Like most women in Thailand, she was pretty, and like most massuesses in Thailand, I felt better under her care. I hope that by this point you have read my description of Thai Massage, and if you have you were already treated to a play by play not only of the type of massage that A would provide, but of A’s massage specifically. A was the best massuesse I’ve had.

 

It’s hard to describe what makes A the best massuesse. Khun, my first massuesse, was probably more technically skilled. In fact, I’d considered trying to find the place Khun worked again after a few other massages. Everyone else was hooked on Baan Thai, because they’d had worse experiences at other places, but I’d had a good one, and was itching to go back. Then I lucked out and scored A out of the queue. This is not to say that the others were wrong, I’d just gotten lucky at our first place. It seems fairly obvious that Baan Thai had a higher overall quality of massage than the other places we’d visited.

 

A had a couple of moves that I particularly appreciated, which I’ve already gone over, I’ve also mentioned that I become like a puppy dog in the hands of skilled masseuse during the head and face portion of Thai Massage. A is my favorite massuesse because she performs the massage with more care than precision. This comes out more during the face massage than at any other point. She’s being artistic, and this brings a tenderness to her touch that while I don’t mistake it for a loving touch, creates the same chemical imbalances in my brain that a loving touch would.

 

These problems are exacerbated by the fact that I not only find A very attractive, but in particular find her eyes to be gorgeous. During the face massage portion, I have three choices, I can look at the ceiling, my eyelids, or into her eyes. A seems a combination of embarrassed, shy, intrigued, and probably a little creeped out by my choice. She has many reactions to me staring right at her eyes, starting out with blushing and looking away. Moving on to staring back at me, particularly wide eyed, or trying to make me flinch by moving to stare back an inch or so from my face, and finally she will whisper something to me in Thai. She told me later what she was saying was "go to sleep", although I contend that she could have whispered that to me in English. It was probably something either blatantly offensive, or encouraging. Since she has chosen to keep it a secret from me, I’ve chosen to believe the latter.

 

I once made a joke about making her fall madly in love with me, which was not out of place in the five of us chatting with the five masseuses atmosphere, she visibly blushed and had to look away. This was the first moment that I’d considered maybe making an attempt at really making something happen with her. I’ve had small crushes on tons of women here in Thailand, but the power of A’s loving-like touch, her beauty, and obvious bashfulness around me, had piqued my interest. Aziz had decided to make an attempt at going out with Nong, A real beauty that he hadn’t gotten a massage from yet, and I’d kind of decided that I might just try and piggy-back along with A if it was convenient for either of us. I wouldn’t be bothered that much if either he or I crashed and burned, and once Aziz started to try and turn the sugar on, Nong had responded with even more of a natural shyness than A had with me, I thought that perhaps I could be a little bit of help.

 

Aziz had tried and failed a few times with very direct approaches to asking Nong out. Aziz was persistant, and Nong was not discouraging in her rejections at all. Once, I’d mentioned to A that I was concerned that Aziz would have success with Nong before I even got a chance to warm her up to the idea of going to dinner with me. I don’t remember my exact words, but the phrasing included something like "if you wouldn’t mind" or "if you want to" or something. Nong interrupted us to say that I was not being romantic at all, that A was a traditional girl, and I would have to stop with phrases like that, and make it clear that I was interested rather than beat around the bush.

 

It’s my guess that this was actually a message to Aziz, who was obviously listening very intently while this message was passed along to me. The message was, "I’m a traditional girl, so keep trying" but I took Nong’s advice to heart anyhow, and turned the sugar up and the vaguaries down. Our next massage, Aziz had pretty much locked up dinner with Nong when he left to go to the bathroom, and I secured the same with A. I’d actually worked out all the details while he was gone, so he came back to the payoff of his previous success.

 

We took the girls out on what was essentially a high school double date. There was the requisite shyness, and while Aziz and I are certainly more comfortable now in talking with women than either of us were talking with girls in High School, those advances are pretty much all nullified by the fresh language barrier, both Nong and A are only moderately good at English, and Aziz and I have almost no Thai. In fact, much of the Thai I know comes from talking with A during our massages. A’s a fantastic tutor, because she provides a bit of motivation mixed in.

 

We had a pretty decent time, despite revisiting awkwardnesses I didn’t think I’d ever have to relive. It was actually pretty damn fun. We went to a restaurant we’d eaten at recently, and knew was good. Aziz had dressed down, in a t-shirt and jeans, thinking that the girls were leaving work and wouldn’t be dressed up much. I’d planned on dressing up a little, but followed suit, and we ended up both being wrong. The girls looked fantastic, had brought some nice outfits to change into, and we kinda looked a little like jackasses, contributing to the earlier mentioned awkwardness. To be honest, there are worse things than looking underdressed because your dates are looking so good.

 

After our dinner, we go have some drinks and the chit chat language barrier seems a little less large. I bring up dancing in the conversation, already thinking ahead to future outings, and A lets me know that she doesn’t like dancing in public, and she’s only ever done it a few times when out drinking with the girls. A is in fact very shy about dancing, and she couldn’t have known how enticing this entire conversation was to me. Partially because it made for good conversation, and partially because I now really wanted to see A dance, I started in on the subject matter with full force.

 

A did seem to enjoy talking about me wanting to see her dance, she just didn’t want to actually do it. I confessed that I am a terrible dancer, and if she danced *with* me, no one would notice if she wasn’t very good, they’d be busy snickering at me. (this was a dubious approach, but it felt comfortable so I ran it)  I also pointed out that no one actually thinks good looking women dance poorly, they’re busy trying to get up the nerve to talk to them. I solicit Nong’s help in the matter, and am rewarded with a video of A dancing at a New Year’s party some months ago.

 

You can only see her back, and she’s surrounded by her friends, but the fact was she danced almost like every other person in the world who is self conscious about dancing in front of strangers. I complimented her dancing, and overall enjoyed the moment quite a bit. I also told her that seeing a video of her dancing was no substitute for getting to dance with her.

 

She shows me some pictures of a trip to Wat Po on her cell phone, and at some point she accidentally shows me a picture of a little boy. She tries to switch past it, but I realize immediately that it’s her kid (I haven’t asked her if she has kids, and she hadn’t mentioned it at this point) and obviously am not particularly put off by it. I’m guessing that she expects the exact opposite reaction, so I take a proactive approach and decide to make it clear I’m not offput. I ask her who the boy was, and she immediately responds with "my son"

 

I like the fact that she didn’t even hesitate to consider lying about it. In a similar scenario earlier when looking through my camera, there were pictures of two hookers a poker player we knew had taken home for a threesome, and I’m sure when the pictures came up, I hesitated and considered lying. I did not lie, but I’m sure I considered it. If she was as perceptive as I am about such things, she’d probably assume I had lied, and had banged one of the hookers. The biggest problem with resolving to tell the truth to women, is when the truth is the kind of thing that a liar would say to give himself a good excuse, it takes extra faith in my honesty to buy the story, and I hadn’t really earned such faith in A yet.

 

She also saw pictures of Noon and I having a meal together. A had seen Noon before, and knew she was Pat’s friend. A did not ask for more information about why I had a picture of Noon eating on my camera, and I did not volounteer it. Is that dishonesty? If A knew the actual truth she would probably not care in the slightest, but the actual truth is too complicated to volunteer out of the blue.   

 

A had eased up considerably after the tense moment of identifying the little boy as her son. I asked a lot of questions about her son and family, and we went through and looked at pictures of her holiday visiting her family. It’s even possible that she had planned showing me the picture so she could get this moment out of the way. It’s also possible I have an overactive imagination.

 

The only thing I’m really concerned about here is A’s reaction to these events, and eventually I can sense her backing off. I don’t know why, but it happened. This made things a little awkward again, and our date ended shortly after.

 

The next day, Aziz scheduled a session with Nong in early afternoon. Dan’s regular masseuse had informed Aziz that Nong had a boyfriend, and Aziz was interested to know if this was true (She had told him otherwise, previously) It never ceases to amaze me how drama can rear it’s ugly head anywhere. Fortunately, this drama was short lived. Aziz believes Nong when she tells him that there’s a guy whose in love with her, but it is not reciprocated. Aziz has already scheduled dinner with Nong at 11 when I go in to get my standard massage from A.

 

Kris comes along. He’s got real problems with his shoulders, and I tell him about Orange, the woman that was able to throw Honan around like he was a little kid. Alright, I’m exaggerating here, but I’ve had an Orange massage and she beat the shit out of me. If she can’t work out Kris’s problems, no one can.

 

I can’t know it, but stars are aligning for me to have one hell of a night. Pepsi, one of the girls who works at Baan Thai, scored 70,000b in the lotto the night before. While only about 2,500 US, to put it in better perspective, it’s about 7 months salary for the average Thai, and from what I can tell, about 6 month’s salary for the average girl at Baan Thai.

 

I bring this up during the massage as a bit of conversation, and both Orange and A are surprised I know until I remind them that Aziz had been by earlier for a session with Nong. We chat a bit about it, and A tells me that Pepsi and some of her friends are leaving early tonight to go celebrate, and the manager is kind of upset about how many girls are leaving early. In my mind, we were setting up a difficult night to get A to go out, but in retrospect I think what she was really telling me was that If I hadn’t made this appointment, she would probably have gone out with the girls to celebrate.

 

I spend a lot of my time bringing up that I want to find a way to go dancing with A, and at one point Orange becomes a bit of an ally, partially unwitting, and partially joining in to tease A a little bit. I eventually tell A that my goal for this trip is now to go dancing with her. I’m persistant, perhaps recklessly, when A says something about us going with Pepsi and the girls to the club. I don’t hide my enthusiasm about the idea, as this sounds like an incredible time, but the subject somehow goes away. I don’t want to force the issue (A would later tell me that she didn’t think I would have a good time. I don’t know if she thought I thought I wouldn’t have a good time or not, which would be interesting considering how enthusiastic I was when she brought it up)

 

Further miscommunication gets in the way here. A suggests that maybe we go to the Hard Rock, a place I’m under the impression she doesn’t want to go, and I don’t want to go, but was brought up the day before because Aziz incorrectly thought Nong wanted to go to the Hard Rock. I make it clear I’ll go wherever she likes, and I’d be excited about Hard Rock if that’s a place that would get her to dance. She absorbs all the information, and as we’re finished with the massage, I go to pay, and she goes to change. Aziz is downstairs waiting for Nong, and I realize that we’ve made a bit of an error, and are doubling again even though that was not the plan. It ends up all working out for the best, as by the time A gets back, Pepsi and the girls are waiting for her, and we’re all going out to the club with the girls.

 

Sweet.

 

I couldn’t even know how sweet it would be, and I was already juiced.

 

Now, I don’t  want to get your hopes up, neither Aziz or I end up sleeping with our dates tonight, this night was so awesome for entirely other reasons. We got to be a part of something that I don’t think many farangs have ever had the chance to experience. We split up into two cabs, leaving Kris, who was invited only a few seconds earlier, the odd man out. Rather than fight to figure out how to come along, he bails. What a mistake. I realize that I’m in flip flops, hardly an ideal situation if I’m going to get A dancing, but I’ll make do.

 

We end up at an Isaan nightclub called Dien Pen (Full Moon night club) with Nong, A, and 7 other girls. I pay for the cab I’m in, not realizing that Pepsi has decided she wants to cover the tab for the whole night. The rest of the night is on Pepsi, which makes it even more awesome.

 

We’re taken upstairs at the club, which plays mostly Thai music, most of which is from the Isaan province. There’s a DJ spinning a mix of Thai Hip Hop, American Hip Hop, Thai Pop, and American Pop. This nightclub is unlike anything we’ve got in the states. Everyone orders food and the food is served while you dance around the table.

 

Eating, Drinking, and Dancing, all at once. Later in the night, a live band started up, completing the experience. We get our own tap of Singha, a bottle of whisky, and mixers. A shitload of food is served, and the girls go out of their way to make us feel welcome. Very soon, only a few of the girls are not dancing, and Nong and A are among them. We are later informed that Nong would usually be one of the girls getting more buck wild, but was subdued thanks to Aziz’s presence. I already know that A would be timid even if I wasn’t there, but I’m encouraging her more than I think she’s used to.

 

I’d guess that someone told the girls what I was up to, and they decided to flip it on me, putting me on the spot, Nueng, probably the most outgoing of the girls, gestures to me to come dance with her, One and Owl. I don’t hesitate except to give A the option of joining me. She blushes and waves "no way" and I go over and start to dance with the three girls. Shortly, Aziz joins us, and I tire of dancing with flip flops on, and kick them off to dance barefoot. This makes quite the sensation, as Nueng grabs them from the floor and makes sure everyone at the table is keenly aware I’m dancing barefoot. There’s plenty of laughter, which at it’s worst is still just fine, and is probably a good thing. I keep dancing as long as Hip Hop is being played, but eventually it switches to this Isaan country song that people sing along to more than dance, and I return to A, feeling like I’ve made good strides.

 

As the night proceeds, I notice a few things which make the night even better. First, in a huge club, Aziz and I are the only Farang. Secondly, all the other groups in the club are separated by sex, and are not mingling. We’re not just the only Farangs, but we’re also the only dudes in a mixed group in the club. I don’t know why this is, but once it dawned on me that this was a place girls go to hang out with the girls, and guys probably go hoping to break into the impenetrable groups of "girls night outs", and we had stumbled into it, I couldn’t help but smile with every ounce of my heart.

 

At one point, I lean over to Aziz and tell him that no matter how well we describe this experience, we will not be able to communicate to anyone how awesome it actually was. Aziz responds with, "I haven’t stopped smiling since I got here, my cheeks hurt" I realized this was also true for me. That’s the best I can do to describe how great a time I had.

 

The food was a lot of fun. There were soups, catfish salad, some kind of funny snack cracker with dips, and multiple big fish plates loaded with veggies. We snacked most of the time, while drinking and dancing. After some time, A had enough to drink that her friend Baa was able to persuade her to dance with me, and my recently anointed goal of my trip was already completed. We did a fair amount of dancing for the last hour or so. Perhaps I should set goals more often.

 

There were a bunch of small things about this club that were awesome, and I struggle to remember them all. The people treated us less like tourist money and more like people. Everytime the band or DJ played an Isaan song, everyone in the club sang along, and sang along emphatically. They really love these songs. A is not a fan of Isaan music, despite being from the province, but even she sang along occasionally. She’s sung lightly a couple of times when I was half asleep during massage, but no amount of encouragement could get her to sing loudly, or when I was specifically paying attention.

 

I wish that I had a stronger ending to this story, but I just don’t. I took A out two more times afterwards, and still really like her. We’d go for walks after dinner that would end around my hotel, and we’d sit outside my hotel for awhile before she’d hail a cab and go home. The first time that happened, I’d decided I should have at least kissed her. The second time it happened, I’d resolved to go for it when a cockroach ran up her pantleg and ended our talk prematurely. For some reason she had the desire to go home and shower once she’d squished a cockroach on her calf.

 

Figures.

 

I have a feeling that by the time my trip was winding down, it was me that was going slowly, but I’d kind of gotten the impression that A had some interest in seeing if we’d keep contact after I left, or whether I was just on a fanciful holiday romance. The fact is that I just don’t get passionate enough about anything to make more of it than that once that attitude is out there.

 

I guess it at least keeps me drama free