a waiter at greyhound cafe in bangkok

With my human rights summer internship hat on...is making him wear that shirt as a uniform a human rights violation? =)

postscript on thailand

A friend sent me a link to an interesting article from the New York Times: "In Thai Cultural Battle, Name-Calling Is Encouraged". And I thought only Filipinos had really weird and inappropriate nicknames...but apparently not.

The Thai Ministry of Culture surveyed 3,000 children in Khon Khaen and they found that the most popular English nicknames were:

1) Ball
2) Oil
3) Bank

You read it right. Ball. Oil. Bank. I'm not sure which is worse, being called Ball in your old age in Thailand or Honeyboy in the Philppines...

a backpacker in hong kong

Last Friday I decided I would be a backpacker in Hong Kong. I had a twenty-four hour layover on my way to New York. I had been to Hong Kong before as a shopper, a tourist, a researcher and a trainee, so I decided to explore the city from a different angle.

Before landing in HK, I did some research on budget accommodations. I learned that if it’s price you’re after, you either stay at one of the guesthouses in Chungking Mansions or Mirador Mansions on Nathan Road. Both “mansions” (soon-to-be-condemned buildings really) house multiple “guesthouses” which were former one-bedroom apartments converted into fifteen-bedroom hostels. All the reviews I read were unanimous in the verdict that the accommodations were shocking --- grimy, rat/cockroach-infested, windowless, with rooms only fit for Lilliputians and bathrooms where you shower on top of the toilet.

I have stayed in many under $10/night rooms but none of them were half as bad as these rooms sounded. So I decided to play it safe for my sanity and safety. I opted for a “mid-tier” backpacker option, Lee Garden Guesthouse which was, well, overpriced ($45 for a single!) for what it was…a tiny, tiny room with one itty-bitty little window. (Don’t be deceived by the link. My room was a third the size.) However, I did have a functioning A/C, hot water, a microscopic television and my own phone. Also, it was extremely clean and the staff was helpful and friendly.

In backpacker mode, I took the bus instead of the Airport Express from HKIA to the city. It cost one-third the price and it took only 45 minutes to the guesthouse’s doorstep. I wandered around; I entered a noodle shop and randomly pointed at an item on the menu. Wrong move. I ended up with beef brain noodle soup. I tried a sliver of brain…it tasted pretty good until I remembered…Hong Kong…ex-British colony…mad cow disease and quickly put my fork down. In the evening, I watched the free light and sound show in the harbour, which apparently holds the Guinness World Record for the “World’s Largest Permanent Light and Sound Show.” Whoopeedoo. It was boring and bad for the environment. Al Gore would not be pleased.

But to be honest, way before the evening light and sound show, I got tired of walking the streets in the heat and humidity and succumbed to temptation. I let go of the backpacker dream and shopped like a true Filipino in Hong Kong.

dancing pinoys

The stereotypical Filipino is always happy and can sing and dance really well, or so I've been told by many non-Filipinos outside the Philippines. I guess I don't fit the stereotype because I am usually the customer from hell (when people are rude to me) and I can neither sing on key nor dance with grace. But anyway...I think there is some truth to the stereotype. Many Filipinos are born performers. In most countries I have visited, there is invariably a Filipino band singing covers in a fancy hotel lobby. And then there are the dancers...

I was in the Fort the other day and for the first time in ages, I saw a dancing cop. It's so refreshing to see someone enjoy his job. I wonder if he does his own choreography. I didn't have my camera on me so here's a dancing cop video link from YouTube. Don't you wish all traffic cops were this entertaining?

Since I arrived in Manila a few days ago, I have been hounded by the story of the dancing inmates from Cebu. Instead of doing calisthenics, 1,500 inmates from the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center perform choreographed dances in unison to songs ranging from "Thriller" by Michael Jackson (over 5 million views), to "I Will Follow Him" from the movie Sister Act (complete with a Whoopi Goldberg lookalike dressed in a nun's habit), to "Radio Gaga" by Queen.

Enjoy!

p.s. Here are more links:
Background Info on the Inmates
Complete Videos

monks in the modern world

At an internet cafe in Luang Prabang


Shopping for mobile phones in MBK (Bangkok)

en route to khao san

“Are you wearing heels? No? Good. When the boat pulls up, grab the rope and jump in as quickly as possible, otherwise you might fall into the canal.” Thus warned, I prepared myself for my first klong (canal) waterbus experience.

It was 5:00 p.m. on a Friday and I wanted to get to Khao San Road from Sukhumvit Soi 49 in under an hour. Though Khao San Road is the backpacker ghetto, it is not accessible by either the BTS or the MRT. I knew a taxi ride would lead to an hour of frustration at the very least, so I turned to my colleagues for advice. They suggested I first take the Klong Saen Saep waterbus taxi from the Muslim neighbourhood behind our office and then switch to a motorcycle taxi at Phan Fa. (Estimated travel time: 40 minutes, Waterbus Tax: 12B, Motorcycle Taxi: 30B)

The waterbus is not for the fussy or uncoordinated. The four “conductors” hang onto the sides of the boat and wear crash helmets (!) Some things to know before you decide to take this form of public transportation:

- The boat does not dock at the piers! It slows down close to the platform and you literally have to jump on and off. You can balance yourself by hanging on to the ropes on the sides of the boat. Don’t feel bad if you see women in high heels and short skirts doing this move with ease and grace. They do it everyday.

- You’re travelling through a canal so the smell is none too pleasant.

- But! The views are great. Old teak houses line the canal conjuring up the Bangkok of yesteryear. Then beyond the teak houses, skyscrapers soar. The juxtaposition is stark.

- Make sure someone in your boat is operating the plastic splashguards! There are ropes on either side of the boat which passengers must pull down to ensure that everyone doesn’t leave the boat wet and smelly.

- If you easily get seasick, this is not for you. Because the canal is narrow and boats going both directions stop on the left and right banks, there’s a lot of engine cutting and bouncing around in the water.

Anyway, I jumped off the boat at Phan Fa and then rode behind the motorcycle man to Khao San. I quickly discovered that jumping on and off the waterbus taxi was not half as dangerous as the motor man. The guy weaved in and out of traffic like there was no traffic. We were literally one inch away from vehicles on either side. I wore the stale helmet he provided and clung to him for dear life.

But I finally made it in approximately forty-five minutes. It might have been the fastest and cheapest route but I would have to say that it definitely wasn’t the safest.

arabian night

Like any international city, Bangkok has multiple ethnic neighbourhoods. Once you cross some invisible line, you are suddenly transported to another world --- a market in Jaipur, a busy street in Guangzhou, a small Malay village. Two nights ago I went to the Arab quarter (off the Nana BTS on Sukhumvit Soi 3/1) for dinner with a friend and I was instantly teleported to Cairo.

We had dinner at Shahrazad and I could’ve sworn I wasn’t in Bangkok. We were the only non-Arab patrons in the restaurant. All the waitresses wore uniform chadors. The shish kabob and baba ghanoush were excellent. The restaurant didn’t serve hot drinks, such as tea or coffee, after 1:00 p.m. because (or so the waitress claimed) it was summer in the Arab world and they were following the custom over there. Perhaps their kettle was broken?!

After dinner we moved on to Nefertiti, an open-air shisha café populated by men sitting alone, smoking their hookahs and drinking mint tea (a hot drink!). The café was all mirrors, silver kitsch and heavy copper jars. I ordered a Turkish coffee and my friend and I had an apple shisha to share. Like all the other patrons in the café, we sat and watched the world go by as the Arab version of MTV blasted dance tunes from a TV set in the corner.

We went home slightly buzzed and ready to go to bed.