Those British Bastards

I live about a block from a temple. Next to the temple is an upscale restaurant. If you listen close enough and tune out the sound of Thai airforce jets on training drills and dogs barking, you might hear the bellicose chuckling of the fat Brits sitting around glutting themselves to an early grave. Tables full of expat kings gorging on cheap food and women 40 years their junior. The women sit silent. The men tell tales of riotous times and posh living. I ate there once and watched as one particularly obese Brit sat in a white linen outfit eating from 3 plates, a back brace and bright blue socks with sandals. A young Thai woman on each side. I tried to hide my outrage, but I could not contain the mimicking. "Oh hohohoho, Charles, you always were a cheeky bastard weren't you. HAHAHAHA. Good thing our kids don't know our women are younger than their children, muhahahaha. If Helen hadn't taken half my money I would have two more girls each night, hahahaha" Colonialism is alive and well in Thailand. They are not conquering land, but they are still conquering people.

The sex trade is big business.

Today, I went to the bookstore to pick up a Thai/English phrase book. Next to the book I bought was a whole row of books dedicated to teaching foreigners how to say things like, "I like younger women", "I want to sleep with 4 girls tonight, is thatOK?", "Do you like pain?" and it gets MUCH more explicit from there. The books are available in English, German, Swedish, Danish, Spanish, French, Japanese, Chinese, and maybe more. Can you imagine your grandpa walking into a Thai bookstore to get a phrase book designed solely to speak to Thai

prostitutes?

I would love their faces on billboards outside their London flats or their Florida tract home. Outside their country club, a big flashing sign for their friends and wives and stockbroker sons to see. "Grandpa supports human trafficking"

Fresh Things.

Meet Tze: (pronounced Tee, like the letter or the drink or the thing you golf with). Tze makes Thai style noodles. Like Thai Ramen, but a bajillion times better than ramen. His noodles are fresh, never dried, never frozen, and mixed with fresh kale and crispy pork (name your meat). He gets up every day at 5 to make the noodles from scratch. By 9 he comes to work at BABSEACLE (where I am doing my internship) He goes to the restaurant during lunch to help his mom with the lunch rush and then comes back to work until about 6:30. Then he teaches us our Thai language class and hangs out with us until about 10, when he goes home and gets ready to make more noodles the next day. He does this 7 days a week, even on Thai holidays. He is only 23 and definitely one of my favorite people... and his noodles.. definitely my favorite noodles.

Leaving the Loin

I left San Francisco at 1:20 am Friday and arrived in Hong Kong at 5:45 am Saturday. The flight was only 14 hours, but 29 hours passed on the clocks. I spent almost the whole flight sleeping, which is remarkable considering I was on the 64th row, seat 1 of 10 in the row. Man was not meant to fly coach, or I just got really spoiled flying first class to India last year.
I had directions to my hostel by way of train, but I decided to find a bus that would take me into he city instead. I saved 60 Hong Kong dollars by taking the bus, plus I got to see some incredible sights along the way.Like colorful piles of shipping containers, stuffed full of plastic toys and cheap electronics, waiting to make the trek across the pacific. Next stop: San Francisco, after that, someones birthday party, then, the final million years will be spent decomposing in a landfill on the outskirts of every American town.I did not really know where to get off the bus, so I just got off when I felt like it and it turned out really well. I was super close to my hostel, so I dropped my luggage and went out... at 7:00 am. I wandered til I should have been good and lost, but I ran into the elders (Mormon missionaries) and they gave me directions to a ferry that would take me across the harbor to some hip shopping district where I could look back and see the city.I thought I listened to the elders directions, but apparently I didn't cause I just got on the first ferry I saw and it went about 40 minutes away to this island that has no cars and no buildings over 3 floors. Truly unique in Hong Kong, and actually much cooler than Prada. I decided to explore the island and ended up hiking all over, buying swim trunks, and swimming in the ocean, right next to a huge power plant.

All dressed up for Muni.

4/24/10

5-to Ocean Beach

These buses vibrate like the coin operated beds you see in movies but are never so fortunate to actually encounter. I am on the 5 to Ocean Beach.
Across from me a woman is propped up quite comfortably reading the Chronicle. She is making no attempt to contain herself to one seat. Her cheap convention style book bag draped sloppily onto the adjacent seat. Her bare chubby legs spread open as if she is straddling a bucket of popcorn. She just switched the Chronicle for "Real Simple" magazine. Her purple metallic round hairy potter style spectacles magnifying all sorts of advise she will likely never take. She is wearing white tennis shoes, white tube socks, and very short white shorts. On knee is scabbed and both legs are spotted orange with fake tanning cream. The collar of her white polo is twisting out from under her over-sized blue sweatshirt. Her graying pony tail pulled through the back of her white cap. Loads of jewelry and make-up. She definitely spent time putting this ensemble together. Unfortunately, any chance she had of looking classy is overshadowed by the jiggling of her orange and white legs. Her shorts so short they disappear into the jiggling. Skin meeting skin. She is somebody's grandma. I hope she has a good day.