what now?

This is me, treading lightly over my future.

I lie here, entirely unemployed, and wonder what there is to write about now that my travels have come to such an abrupt end. Although 'end' is a word I find safe to use only in moderation at this point, for this is merely the beginning. As we near the fifth month of the year two-thousand-and-ten, I realise that, indeed, I have the whole year ahead of me, brimming with shiny beautiful opportunities.

Unfortunately, with them all laid out ahead of me like this, like bright pebbles on a endless beach, it is difficult to see the horizon, and the sun shines so brilliantly opon my future that all these shimmering possibilities are quite blinding. They are also difficult to judge from this distance. Once a particularly bright opportunity is reached, I may find that it is broken, or flawed, and does not in fact shine as vibrantly as it had appeared to from a distance. No matter – I tread lightly over the surface of my future, and enjoy the sunshine while it lasts

A few of these glamorously gleaming granules of potential I can foresee and I will be listing them, so as not to forget them myself, but also to remind whomever might be reading this little titbit of contemplation of my plans for the short-term. The list begins:

- Cape Town, the city by the sea. This is where I plan to be for an indeterminate amount of time, weighing up my options, sorting through my opportunities, tossing those that are dull, pocketing those that glimmer. Of these opportunities I am certain I shall pursue these few:

1. Open Water Diving course (with the possibility of following through to Masters)

2. Vega (or other such institution, where I intend on discovering the joys of professional photography beginning 2011)

3. Job agencies (or other form of assistance to the unemployed where I will be trying my luck with the qualifications I possess, if nothing else but to see what is on offer)

4. Yachting schools (my dream has not fallen through yet. It may still be pursued in the future, when in need of a ‘little bit’ of extra cash)

I also believe that I may involve myself in the transportation of 2010 World Cup soccer fanatics around the Mother City, if the conditions are right and the requirement are fulfilled before the onset of the month of June. Contribute my little bit towards making it ‘A’yoba!’ and so on and so forth – [insert patriotic statement here].

Writing this piece also serves to inform those that do not know what my plans are of what my plans are. When asked, my response will now simply be, "Check my blog", because, frankly, I’m tired of talking about it! I love you all dearly, friends, family and lover (singular, of course) who are spread out across the country and, indeed, the globe, but if I get asked one more time, "So, what are you doing now?" I might lose the plot and write more ridiculous blog posts such as this one. Faytjie over and out - for now... dun dun dun!

Interview with a Monk: Day One with Tawatchai

by Nick Piper

He answers his phone and, despite the fact that he is speaking thai, subconsiously strolls out of earshot. His voice, however, still pierces the silence that abounds in the temple complex in which we have found ourselves. I have now spent the better part of a scorching Chiang Mai afternoon with Pra Tawatchai but have come no closer to ironing out the ambiguities that confronted me about monkhood before I met this particular charming 24 year-old.

With nothing but a curious interest in Buddism and some free time on my hands, I decided to heed the recommendation of my guidebook and partake in "monk chat". Essentially this involves making one's way to Wat Chedi Luang, located in the centre of Chiang Mai, and conversing with whichever monk is 'on duty'. The purpose is two-fold. Firstly, it is for the tourist to shed some of his/her ignorance about the Buddhist religion and secondly, for the monk to practice his command of the english language.

Tawatchai's phone call is short and apparently involved organising two iced coffees, one for him and one for me. When our beverages eventually arrive they are the same colour as his robes- a redish-yellow. The drinks provide welcome relief from what must be 35 degree heat.

Earlier in the afternoon our conversation had begun with the usual formalities associated with meeting somebody for the first time. I discovered that Tawatchai was born in the same year as me- 1986- in Bangkok with only his mother as support until the age of twelve. It was then that he became a novice monk, something that most Thai men are obliged to do. This tradition, Tawatchai tells me, stems from when Sukothai was Thailand's capital and the king at the time decreed that every Thai man should become a monk for at least a short period of time. The purpose of this tradition was, and still is, to ensure the survival of Buddism.

Tawatchai spent eight years as a novice monk in Bangkok and the North-east before moving to Chiang Mai once he had become a full monk four years ago. He agrees with me that not having a complete family as a support base contributed to his decision to stay in the monkhood.

Having finished our drinks, we make our way through the temple complex and he suggests that we move on to another temple where he wants to show me a larger buddhist university than the one he attends at Wat Chedi Luang. Soon I manage to steer our conversation to pertainent questions I have entertained about his chosen path in life.

First and foremost, perhaps even naturally, I am interested in the vow of celebasy that he and other monks have taken. This includes, I might add, no masturbation. A rather awkward enquiry along the lines of, "How do you manage it?" is met (as one would expect with a monk) with a question directed right back at me- "Are you human?" he asks.

"Yes," I reply.

"Am I human?"

I pause, "Yes. Yes, you are human".

"Well then it can be done." Reflection. "Nicky, it is like this. Every rule is only surface-deep. Underneath lies the real reason for its particular existence. I cannot have sex, for example, means that any temptation to temporary worldy beauty is, in itself, partly disallowed." Understood. "So if I concentrate on the meaning behind the rule, the rule becomes more managable." Clear.

Tawtchai pauses, takes another sip of his iced coffee, and asks if he can take a photo of me. I oblige. So, in front of a gold leaf-encassed spire, in a temple complex in northern Thailand, I pose for a monk as he takes my picture on his camera phone. The light is not good. I move and we have more success.

"What do you regard as luxury items, Tawatchai?" I had seen earlier in a book on Buddism that the possesion of such items was forbidden.

"Anything that distracts," he replies.

"Like expensive cellphones?" I probe.

"We have had to move with the times," he says. "Some types of Buddhism do forbid luxury items outright and some also forbid the use of money, but as long as you remember the fundamental reason for the these particular rules, then you are in a better position than those who spend as much as they can on luxury items."

I was confused. It seemed at this point that one could break the rules as long as one knew why the rule they were breaking existed in the first place. I challenged him.

"So you can spend money and buy fancy phones and numerous iced-coffees then?"

"I don't though. I spend what is reasonable for somebody in this day and age and on things that are reasonable. My mother bought me this phone"

We walked for the next few minutes in silence through the temple, soaking up the late-afternoon atmosphere. Tawatchai said he needed another iced-coffee.

"So, you are you in some way addicted to iced-coffee, Tawatchai?"

He paused. Had I crossed the line? Had my lay-person interogation gone too far? I knew that addiction of any sort was fundamentally rejected by Buddhism. Quite suddenly, he broke the silence with a smile that subsequently turned into an adolescent giggle. "We don't call it addiction." And that is where we left it.

I wished Tawatchai well and made an arrangement to meet with him for lunch the next day. As I walked the two or so kilometres to my guesthouse I considered what Tawatchai had said about rules associated with the monkhood and the breaking thereof. I concluded that I would need to spend more time with the man to fully comprehend the ironies of a monk's lifestyle in the 21st century. That evening I googled some information on Buddhism and checked my Facebook. Tawatchai had already added me as a friend.

how to perform an inter-continental leap. or rather, why?

(photo taken by Bevan)

Parties and meeting new people, running around the old city at 3am and climbing the Tha Phae gate while the security guard sleeps. Learning to cook 14 amazing local Thai dishes and sending up enormous bursts of flames. Making plans. I have allowed Bevan to do all the job hunting, as we seem to be interested in the same things - all the rewards, minimal effort. All this laziness only makes me lazier. It does seem, however, that Chiang Mai is not the place to go about making a career. English teaching jobs pay pitifully, and positions teaching art are few and far between, normally requiring someone who has a resonable grasp of Thai. Settling down in Chiang Mai also seems like a less and less attractive prospect to me. Although it's rather beautiful (in a smelly Asian city way), the pollution is omnipresent, such that the sun cannot penetrate and I haven't seen the sky since we arrived here. I miss the clear air and indigo skies of home...

Making decisions. Decisions involving inter-continental travel and an alteration of ideas regarding employment. Decisions involving (at this stage) a place called Antibes in the south of France and luxury watercrafts. Yes, it looks like I'm going to the Mediterranean to work on a yacht. This change of plan may seem rather elaborate, but when considered with future endevours in mind it makes a lot more sense. As of late, I have been feeling at a total loss with regard to my future - feeling like I studied for four years to no avail. I guess it's not nicknamed a 'Bachelors of Fuck All' for nothing... So my new plans have been centred around saving money. Money which will go towards furthering my education in a direction that I feel is more practical and relevant. I cannot decide whether this will involve a course in interior design, or animation, or graphic design, or professional photography; but at least, I feel, I have made a decision (working on a yacht) that is necessary in order to persue one (or more) of these things.

This decision also conviniently allows me to travel more - oh how I look foward to seeing Europe! It will be quite a shock, I'm sure, traversing the gap between this ugly/beautiful third world country and arriving in France, but I absolutely cannot wait. My passport has recently lost its virginity and now it can't get enough. Whore.

Love in all directions and in great quantities.

chiang mai - the beginning

Bangkok without the 'bang'. Small city with a big city attitude. Friendly people. Cheap-cheap food. A little place called Pakinai where we will be residing for the month of March. A cooking course appears to be in the cards for me at this stage, as employment opportunities here seem slim, and I really need to start doing something with my time - all this inactivity is driving me crazy. In our pursuit of inactivity (however unintentional), I had a once in a lifetime experience. Seated outside our residence on a Friday night, fully engaged in a game of 'drinking crazy eights', and what else should walk up but an elephant. A common occurence during Friday-night-predrinks, is it not ? Feeding elephants? Incredible!

koh phangan

A, once very beautiful, beach sacrificed to hedonism and debauchery. Spent the week there dedicated to drinking, which culminated in the outright outrageousness of the famous Full Moon Party, which, coincidently, happened to fall on Bevan's birthday. Our buckets overflowing, we entered the madness. There was any type of music you like blaring from any number of small places to do much of the same as you did the night before, except tonight you are annointed with UV paint and the moon is full and there are thousands upon thousands of other people in the same frame of mind as you are. The result is quite overwhelming, and I was overwhelmed early. Note to self: must learn the lesson known as 'pacing oneself'!

It was fun, but as the saying goes, "Too much haha, pretty soon boohoo", and 'boohoo' I was. Very soon. Two days after Full Moon, three days of swollen glands, aching muscles, nightmarish delusions brought on by fever and a throat full of razor blades. Thank goodness for Augmentin - one times antibiotics course and we're off to Chiang Mai, the longest journey of my life... Taxi to the ferry, ferry to the mainland, bus to the bus-station, 8hrs on the bus to the train-station in Bangkok, arrive at 3am, wait until 8am. Catch a train (the first of my life) to Chiang Mai, but be prepared for a 12hr journey. 32hrs later and there we were. And here we are.

hatyai

Just another city: Cooked poultry with their heads and feet still attached. Fake trees that light up on the main streets at night. Dancers named Jasmine at the 'Pink Lady Hotel' - an elaborate front for prostitution. Buy her a pink flower and she'll sing for you. Buy her a purple one, take her home. Go upstairs into the "massage parlour" and choose a girl, sitting pretty in her glass box. It's like putting a coin in a vending machine and choosing your 'happy ending' - no sunsets and white horses here though folks, underwater murals and handjobs perhaps.

The best in your mind. In downtown of Hatyai

From Hatyai to Koh Phangan for Bevan's birthday.

georgetown - penang, malaysia

Bangkok without the smell and the overwhelming bustle and the street vendors and the prostitutes. We found ourselves here as the result of needing to renew our temporary visas. Quite a painless process really. The only snag we encountered was arriving on a Saturday and therefore having to stay an extra day due to the fact that no one works on a Sunday. Global day of rest. Am slightly surprised that a two-month so-called "tourist visa" is so easy to aquire, but I'm not complaining! Georgetown is a very interesting place, the inner (or old) city being a UNESCO World Heritage site. It was founded in 1786 by Captain Francis Light, a trader for the British East India Company, as base for the company in the Malay States. He obtained the island of Penang from the Sultan of Kedah for this purpose. As a result of it's interesting history (which I won't delve into too much), Georgetown has a unique architectural and cultural townscape without parallel anywhere in East and Southeast Asia, one that I would decribe as 'crumbling colonial'. Very beautiful. The demography is also quite interesting. I was expecting the majority of the people there to be Malay and Muslim, but it turns out that Penang's population of ethnic Chinese is larger than the Malay population, whilst 10% of the demography is occupied by ethinc Indian people. All this cultural-mixing results in really amazing food!

Summary of my Malaysian experience: hairless dogs; taxi-drivers named Alex with a good grasp of English and a humorous inclination towards extended metaphors; grungy hotels full of amazing photo opportunities and ghosts, chipped folding card tables, red plastic chairs and faded posters; incredible Indian cuisine and 10%vol. beer; 'Little India', full of music and colour and pretty little bindi's and roadside stalls selling delicious samoosas; snake temples and five venomous vipers; 12%vol. beer. And then a long bus-ride back to Hatyai.