Happy-happy joy-joy

So what’s happened since the last post?

Hmm, let me see…

Well, to paraphrase the popular song, I kissed a girl and god-damn, did I like it. Yes, it would seem that Em, described in the last post as “possibly the coolest gal in Surat Thani” has been promoted to “definitely the coolest gal in the world”. We’ve been together a mere week now but I’m the happiest of campers, and probably making my flatmates sick with my incessant chirpiness and smiles

Events leading up to the current situation have been a ridiculous comedy of errors – fancied each other since the same night many moons ago, each thought the other wasn’t interested, each put out equally blatant signs which the other, god knows how, managed to misinterpret, even sharing a double bed in a beach hut on Koh Samui without anything happening – but we’ve finally managed to get together.

And it’s awesome.

I haven’t laughed and smiled so much since, well, I honestly can’t remember when. The icing on the cake is that last night she confessed to me her three ‘guilty pleasures’, believing that I’d now think her some kind of a weirdo or deviant. Those three pleasures?

Kung-fu, anime and graphic novels.

Seriously.

Can a guy get any happier? I don’t know but it seems to be happening every day…

(I’ll probably be posting about Em at length in the future, right now my head’s still too spinny to do the lass justice )

No, I’m not dead

I’m just lazy. I make no apologies for not updating this blog. I’m living in Thailand for fuck’s sake, I’ll do things in my own damn time. Anyway, lots has happened since the last post so here’s the 5-minute rundown…

First thing is my first scooter accident. I was driving along a road called Wat Po with my colleague Michelle when a pick-up truck pulled out right in front of us. He was waiting at an intersection and decided to move out in the opposite direction to us just when we got within ten yards of him. There was nothing I could do, slammed on the brakes but went straight into his bumper, next thing I know I’m in the road, my trousers are ripped to shreds and my leg is bloody and aching.

Thankfully there was nothing too serious involved. Michelle had a sore knee for a while but it seems to be better, I got it a little worse and have a fuckton of ligament and tendon damage but it’s getting better and I can almost walk down stairs normally after two weeks. The other driver admitted fault and is paying for the hospital and garage bills so I can’t complain on that score. Still get kinda nervy when I’m driving now though.

Next on the agenda – new flat! I got a call from Jason, my boss, a couple of weeks back saying he’s moving out of his place and would like to give me first refusal on it as he wants someone “older and more responsible” to look after it. Hur-hur-hur. I was just about to switch to Jamie’s air-conditioned en-suite room in my old place so was a bit hesitant but decided to go for a look anyway seeing as it’s just on the next Soi down.

Holy fuck.

I walked into a palace. Gleaming tile floors in an open plan living area including kitchen, dining space, living area with flat-screen TV (and cable) and – the icing on the cake – a frickin’ pool table. I shit you not. After seeing this the thought of bedrooms didn’t even cross my mind but I shuffled upstairs and lo, it’s the biggest damn bedroom in town. Kingsize bed, sofa and coffee table, desk, even a sink in the corner.

I think I’ll take it…as dogmatic and close-minded as religious believers.”

Of course with a new flat comes new flatmates and I scored on that front as well. Kelsey arrived in town the day I moved in, I had heard nothing about her so was naturally worried about getting a mentalist, a jesus freak or some kind of antisocial nut. Instead I got one of the soundest people I’ve met so far, a 22-year old American lass whose deeply into anthropology and archaeology and who carries herself with the calm confidence of someone well beyond her years. Plus she has a wicked sense of humour, sometimes quite dry and subtle and other times just ridiculous.

The next day Michelle (aka New Michelle aka Wookie) touched down. I’ll admit I was hesitant here as I’d chatted to her via email and Facebook a lot before she left Canada and she gave the impression that she could tip over that fine line which divides enthusiastic and slightly nippy. Again I had nothing to worry about, she’s just a regular Duracell bunny, bouncing off the walls with a permanent smile on her face and a talent for spewing the most hilarious non-sequitors mid-sentence. Case in point during a card game on Koh Samui – “I wish there were monkeys everywhere instead of dogs, that’d be cool”. Yup, just my style.

That’s another thing that happened, my first trip to the islands. Last week I took a couple of nights over  there with the new flatmates and my friend Em, possibly the  coolest gal in all Surat. Em and I drove our scooters with Wookie and Kelsey on the back, an epic journey for vehicles designed for short urban rides. An hour to the ferry, ninety minute crossing, another hour to get to the beach on the worst roads I’ve seen, populated with the most dangerous drivers in the world. I’ve never been so glad to get off that bike as when we hit Chaweng beach.

It was worth it though, a couple of days of chilling on the beach, good food, a little beer and plenty sunburn. Add to that some excellent card/drinking games and a visit to a ladyboy cabaret show which ended with me covered in glitter and lipstick. Good times…

On the downside there’s been some nasty crime-related stuff going on. A few weeks back a friend of my Thai pal Benz was shot, on Friday night someone was shot outside the club we were at (Thai mafia pretty much run the show here) and I just heard that Wookie, currently on Koh Tao with Michelle, has had her wallet and camera stolen. In fact it’s still not long since Em had her laptop and camera nicked from her flat.

So it’s not paradise. But really, it’s not that far off.

Anyway, now I’m back to teaching and at this moment I’m using this blog as a procrastination enabler to stave off working on dreaded lesson plans. I messed up and covered half of today’s class yesterday, gotta think of a last-minute fix. Methinks a bit of waffling and a game should cover it

Thai tattoos

No, it’s not what you think. Sure, it’s now beyond a cliché that travellers and teachers alike tend to return from the Land Of Smiles festooned with tigers, geckos, random tribal art and Thai script which they’ve been assured translates to “mighty conquering hero with the heart of a lion” but is likely closer to “there’s one born every minute”. No, a Thai tattoo, a real Thai tattoo, is a different beast entirely.

As mentioned in previous posts, the prevalent mode of transport in this country – and one which I’ve totally fallen in love with – is the humble scooter. Most people tend to call them motorbikes but I can’t get behind that. A motorbike is a motorbike and a scooter is a scooter. Never the twain shall meet and all that. What’s wrong with a scooter anyway? You get to act all Italian and shout “Ciao!” and “Prego!” as you careen drunkenly down the streets

Anyway, said scooters do share in common with motorbikes the presence of enormous fuck-off exhaust pipes running down the back. In the scooter it typically sits on the right hand side, a little behind the driver and directly underneath the passenger’s foot pillions. These exhausts get hot. Very fucking hot. They’re made of thin metal and constantly being pumped full of the by-products of a combustion engine. It’s not rocket science, except for the fact that it kinda is.

So the if the careless/drunk passenger, either in mid-ride or when dismounting, should happen to forget about the red-hot pipe mere inches away from them then they’re in trouble.

The resultant red welt on the inside of the right calf, sported by half the teachers in this town and likely to be more or less permanent?

That, my friends, is a Thai tattoo,

(For the record I’m tattoo-free for now but, perversely, almost looking forward to joining the club…)

Tired

Almost four weeks in and the strain is starting to tell. Apparently it’s pretty common after this length of time, people start to feel the homesickness, start getting irritated by aspects of life in their new home, the job becomes a grind, the initial novelty of the new people and places starts to wear off. I was told all this before so knew it might be coming but it’s still pretty grim when it happenss.

The main thing is loneliness I guess. There are plenty of great people over here, really friendly and welcoming, totally chilled out and relaxed. There are no close friendships though, not yet, and that’s what I miss.

There’s also the lack of a closer relationship, which I think I wrote about before. I used to be a lot better on my own but I guess that’s changed over the past few years and I could really use someone to talk to, someone to lean on, someone who can help pick me up when I have a mood crash. Unfortunately the events of the past year or so have left my confidence at an all-time low as far as that kind of thing goes, might be a while till I can get back in the saddle, so to speak.

All this sort of thing is just leaving me totally drained at the moment. It doesn’t help that I can’t get out of my ‘morning person’ mode, meaning that I’m wide awake five hours before I have to be at work and exhausted by the time everyone wants to head out at night. I have to do my prep work duriong those early hours seeing as it’s when my brain is most awake so I’m not really getting much chance to hit the gym, another knock to my energy levels.

It’s all about adjustment though, that’s what I have to keep telling myself. It’s going to take time to settle down and I knew that from the start, there’s no way I’m going to let myself get down enough to bug out and go home.

In the meantime there are always distractions like last weekend’s boat-based, animal-themed fancy dress party. Can’t really be too down when you’re sailing up a river, knocking back whisky, dressed as an exceptionally gay unicorn and accompanied by, amongst others, Minnie Mouse, two Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Stamford, the Chelsea lion mascot. Really, how bad can it be…?

(Special prize for Saad who missed the ‘animal’ part and came as a terrorist. Genius mistake)

Access denied

I can handle the heat.

I can handle the endless mosquito bites.

I can handle not being able to speak the language.

I can handle missing my friends and making new ones.

What I can’t handle is not having 24/7 access to the wonderland that is the internet. Call me a geek, a nerd or just a general sad motherfucker, I don’t care. The internet is, quite simply, the best tool for interpersonal communication and the storage and dissemination of knowledge that humanity has ever come up with. As someone who values knowledge above most things in the world and now has a greater need for communication than ever before it’s quite a jolt to suddenly find your ability to surf strictly rationed.

It’s not that I don’t have access at all; obviously I can get online or you wouldn’t be reading this. There are a few decent cafes with free wi-fi (fast becoming an iced coffee addict because of this), there’s a hotel down the road with free access which remains open all night and there’s also wireless acess – the slowest since dial-up connections – in the high school and language I work at. I can get on the net whenever I need to really.

The thing about those connections is that you feel constricted by the fact that they’re not your own. It’s difficult just to randomly surf, you feel that every second online has to count so you post your emails and blog musings, update your Facebook status to piss off your friends back home, you check any ‘essential’ reading and then you get out of there.

I miss being able to come home drunk at whatever time in the morning, log on and see if any friends are on Messenger, try and find out what that tune they played in the club was, upload the photos I was too embarrassed of during the day. I miss being able to look up whatever vital piece of information I was after on my walk home – what the hell was that bug? What does it eat? Where does it live? What’s its gestation period? Can you make any good anagrams out of its latin name?* I miss being to use humanity’s greatest knowledge/communication tool for nothing more than killing a few minutes between jobs or before dragging my ass out of bed in the morning.

Before you ask, it’s not just a matter of finding a local ISP and getting a connection installed. In order to do so you must actually be Thai, something of an obstacle. Previous teachers apparently got locals to sign up in their names but someone got ripped off somewhere along the way, forever burning that bridge for the rest of us. There is an option to get a USB widget which picks up mobile internet wherever you go, apparently much faster than most Thai connections, but it costs a fair whack and I’m currently fast approaching overdraft levels. Might be a possibility once I start getting paid but until then it’ll remain resolutely out of reach.

So in the meantime I have to get used to this sporadic access. I know I shouldn’t be complaining, I’m in a lovely town in the tropics, starting a new life and meeting all sorts of new people. Creature comforts still help a lot though.

* – I don’t know why I place such value in useless information. I have a theory that my memory is like a giant filing cabinet in which any currently empty slots are filled with happy-making chemicals. Any time a new bit of info needs to be stored, my brain has to empty out the serotonin and endorphins into my system to make room. Sounds stupid? Are you a neurologist? Well fuck you, it’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

Random updates

Hmm, it’s been an up-and-down few days, let’s go through the events in order.

First off I managed, somehow, to get a dose of food poisoning on Sunday. That was… unpleasant. The day started off innocuously enough; had breakfast, went to the gym for some weights, a run and a cool-down swim, lunch at a place on the river I’ve been to a few times then chilling out for a while before heading to the second hand market for a rummage.

(On a side note I managed to pick up a pink t-shirt emblazoned with the logos of Van Halen, The Scorpions, Dokken and Metallica, now my favourite t-shirt so thanks to Michelle for nudging me into getting it)

Shortly before hitting the market my guts had started to act up – not an uncommon occurrence for newbies out here because of all the wierd and wonderful foods, the climate, etc. However, as soon as I got home and shut the door to my room all hell broke loose. It seems that every little control centre in my noggin went haywire, giving rise to the following list of symptoms simultaneously: cold sweats; fever; shaking; aching limbs; vomiting; diarrhoea; pounding headache; even auditory hallucinations in the form of repeatedly hearing people calling my name.

Seriously fucked in other words.

I’m no big jessie though (at least not these days, shut it Sarah) and managed to haul my ass into school the next day, despite having discovered the truth behind the saying “never trust a fart in Thailand”. By the end of the day it was more or less situation normal and now I’m back to one hundred percent. I suppose this happens to most new arrivals sooner or later, just as well I got it out of my system before I started my full teaching schedule.

The rest of the post is less grim thankfully. At long last I’ve managed to find a tenant for my flat in Edinburgh, something that was starting to weigh seriously on my mind and was even on the verge of jeopardising my continued ability to stay here. Every month council tax and  mortgage payments were leaking out of my bank account with nothing to balance them up but now I’m sorted, at least for the next six months. Whoop!

Finally, I’ve managed to secure myself some wheels at long last. For the next month or so I’m renting a scooter from a cheerful chap called Des until such point as neighbour Nick joins his girlfriend in Chiang Mai and sells me his (significantly flashier) one. At the moment I just needed something to get me from A to B without the soaking of sweat entailed by walking and also something which will let me get used to Thai traffic in a gentle fashion. Des’s wee machine fits the bill perfectly.

He took me out to a secluded part of town last night and showed me the ropes, dead simple really – automatic clutch, four gears (shift up and down with left foot), brakes on the right hand and foot and that’s about it. Actually the brakes are kinda odd when you’re used to cycling – the rear brake is on your foot but I instinctively use my hands. Another difference from cycling is that you have to keep your distance from the kerb as people tend to pull out with little or no warning whereas I’m used to hugging the kerb for dear life back home. It’ll all come with practice though.

So for now I’m off to have a little explore and get a little lost before heading into school. Wheeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

Surat Thani fauna

Your average city in Scotland is pretty dull when it comes to wildlife – a fair few dogs, the odd cat, an urban fox if you’re lucky and, of course, the greater bearded jakey. It’s much more fun down here, strange beasties lurk around every corner. To be fair most of them range from annoying to downright satanic, but it’s worth having a quick Attenborough-style look at them. If nothing else it’ll be preparation for anyone who plans on visiting…

The Mosquito (midgus malevolentus)

AKA the bane of my fucking life. Mozzies are ever-present in Thailand due to the hot, humid conditions. From the day you arrive till you step on a plane out of here you will be hounded by them, constantly discovering new welts and spending your nights in a frenzy of scratching. Outdoors in the evening they’re an ever-present threat and even indoors, with the very best of netting on your windows, you’ll soon realise that they’re wily little buggers who can flit in through the briefest opening of a door.

Of course there are steps you can take too minimise exposure. First off there’s the frankly laughable guidebook suggestion of wearing long trouser and long-sleeved shirts whenever outdoors. Have these authors ever set foot in the country? Have they any fucking idea how hot it is down here? I end up coated in a thin sheen of sweat just from the ten minute walk to my school for god’s sake.

The more sensible suggestions include burning incense (you can get special mozzie-repellent stuff) around your table, using chemical repellents (they work, possibly neurotoxic in the case of DEET though), eating a metric assload of chilli each day (they hate it and can smell it on you) or, as an extreme measure, altering you genome (apparently some people are genetically more attractive to midges, me included it would seem).

At the end of the day, though, you’re best just to be prepared for the bites and to just grit your teeth and bear it. Oh, and a fan while you’re sleeping works wonders to stop ‘em landing on you.

The Cockroach (mankus disgustoria)

These guys are harmless really but my god are they minging, really fucking rank. The first time I saw one, in the bathroom of my flat, I damn near did the stereotypical cartoon woman thing of jumping up onto the toilet seat and screaming. Me a seasoned traveller and all. The more upmarket hotels should be relatively roach-free but if you’re staying in a hostel, house or flat they’ll always be close by.

Thankfully there are a couple of methods of keeping them at bay. The first is currently in use where I live: kittens. To them the roach is little more than an amusing toy, something to be kicked from pillar to post until it stops squirming and becomes, apparently, invisible to felines. The downside to this is that you’re left with a sea of roach corpses on your floors, corpses which inevitably attract armies of ants keen for their daily protein fix. Cue a swarming mass, followed by a scattering of exoskeletal remnants, inevitably to be stepped on barefoot as you stumble through the dingy kitchen for breakfast. Ach, it’s better than when they’re alive I suppose.

Second option is straightforward – slip the bastards a dose, you can get plenty poison around here. Once the kitties leave in November I’ll be going down that route I assure you. I may be something of a Buddhist these days but my ex-Father in law, who gave me my in-depth introduction to pure, philosophical, non-religious Buddhism, assures me that Buddha would have been down with violence in cases of self-defence.

Is this really self-defence?

Damn right, I’m no mind-body dualist so I firmly believe that mental harm is no different from physical. These beasts torment me in the form of extreme scone-nippage and so they deserve nothing less than Total War-style retribution. They brought it on themselves by being so fucking creepy. They do it deliberately.

One important note. If you do happen to encounter roaches in day to day life do NOT, under any circumstances, step on them. If it was a female there’s a good chance you’ll end up trailing fertilised eggs all over your abode via the soles of your shoes (OK, you don’t wear shoes indoors here but you know what I mean). You really don’t want that.

Rats (rattus fattassus)

To be honest I don’t really care about these fellas seeing as I used to own one, albeit briefly. In the West we automatically associate rats with disease, poor hygiene, low standards, all that jazz, but here they’re just a part of life. Okay, the first time you see one darting across the pavement in front of you it might give you the heebie-jeebies but after a while you’ll settle down. We’re not talking New YorkCity subway rats here, the ones that beat up policemen and eat their horses, these are just your average vermin. I saw one scuttle across the floor of the restaurant (stretching the definition of the word here) where I was eating my dinner today and scarce raised an eyebrow.

If you don’t want them around you then just abide by basic rules of hygiene and you’ll be sorted. And keep in mind that if you find yourself down on your luck then they’re apparently hearty eating…

Geckos (sprinticus daftus)

I fecking love geckos, they’re one of the coolest of all lizards, symbols of luck in Thailand, they eat bugs and I’m definitely getting a tattoo of one soon. Not much to say about them to be honest, their innate coolness is self-evident to all but the strangest of human beings. You’ll see them absolutely everywhere, on every surface outdoors after dark and they’re almost as common indoors. I held an inch-long baby one in my hand today, it was crawling around in the living room and I felt obliged to rescue it from a ferocious feline fate.

So cute

Fireflies (pixicus inflammatoria)

They’re named after the best TV series ever (definitely not the other way round) and their asses glow – ’nuff said.

That’s all for our brief tour of Surat Thani wildlife. There are other denizens of these streets of course – stray cats and dogs, ants, big ol’ hairy spiders and elephants. Yes, elephants. During this season they’re brought down from the hills up north where they normally work – it gets too rainy up there to do anything at this time of year so the owners bring them down here and sell food to locals and tourists alike who, in turn, get to feed the elephant. Elements of cruelty going on in the way they’re treated but I’d rather make sure they get a feed (Any idea how much an elephant eats a day? We’re talking Rick Waller portions) than get all high and mighty about their cunty owners and watch the majestic beasts starve instead. Plus I swear they actually smile when you feed them…

And let’s not forget that I’m just talking about the bestiary within the city limits right now – I’ve not ventured out to the land of parrots, tigers and assorted face-eating wonders yet…

PS – Since writing this post I’ve been to the famed Monkey Training College. That deserves a post of its own so I’ll skip my new primate pals for the time being, although I promise tales of poo-smearing, juvenile monkey-sex and wanking in the near future.

Ma hoose, in the middle o’ ma street

Finally got round to taking some photos of what will be my home for the foreseeable future. Like I said in a previous post it’s pretty good by Thai standards, especially as I’m getting it for free, although to be honest I could get somewhere else as good or better for about 2,000 Baht (£35-40) per month. Still, this is home for the time being so I ain’t going to complain. It’s a three-storey building in a small Soi full of western teachers (they call it Soi Farang around here) and is pretty quiet apart from the odd elephant or string of Chinese firecrackers. Seriously. Anyway, ours is the middle one in this photo with Flatmate Jeff’s girlfriend’s pick-up parked out front. My room’s at the back of the first floor.

Here’s the guided tour…

First off is the living room. To be honest this isn’t really used at all as our flat (and by ‘our I mean me, Jamie and Jeff) isn’t much of a social hub at the moment and they both have girlfriends so only spend half their time here anyway. The only things of note are a scabby sofa which the kittens are slowly shredding, a TV which I have yet to see turned on and a terrapin in a tank by the telly.

Jamie and Jeff are moving out in October – Jamie to a new flat with his girlfriend, Clare, and Jeff back home to the States – so at that point I’ll be getting new flatmates and will try to have the place turned around before they arrive. A couple of fans, some extra lighting, just generally spruce the place up a bit and make it more liveable. I’m sure a couple of newbies without significant others to keep them occupied will welcome a place they can chill out and get over their jetlag.

Even more important will be gutting the kitchen/dining room area. This isn’t really used either, partly because the strip light in the kitchen blew a while ago and my undomesticated flatmates had no clue how to fix it and partly because it’s currently a tip. I would blitz it now and get everything shipshape but that would be a pointless endeavour seeing as the kittens are in their exploratory phase right now so are hellbent on wrecking everything in sight. It’ll have to wait till the great flatmate switch, then I get get it in a state where I can actually cook – would love some lessons on how to make proper kick-ass Thai meals…

For the time being though this is my room. It’s basic but it’s a decent size, well-ventilated (good mozzie netting means I can keep the doors and windows open) and has a wee balcony for me to hang out clothes on. In this heat it’s amazing how quickly they dry, towels go from soaked to good as new in an hour tops.

So yeah, nothing special but none too bad at all. Nothing like as bonny as Sarah’s place in Berlin but that’s to be expected, Thailand is hardly famed for architecture and quality craftsmanship. ‘Tis home, and that’s good enough for me.

Little differences

I ain’t in Kansas any more, that’s for sure. Things are different. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. Here are a few common troublesome scenarios, with examples of how we’d resolve them in Scotland and how it’s done over here.

Scenario 1

You really want to go out to the pub/club with your friends but you’re sadly lacking in cash. All you have is a bottle of whisky sitting in the flat and a measly few quid.

Scotland – Sit in your flat on your own drinking the whisky and watching telly. Wallow in your sad, pathetic life.

Thailand – Take the whisky to the pub and just pay for mixers! Yeah, you can bring your own bottle, they don’t care. Also, if you buy a bottle in a boozer you can take what you don’t finish home with you. Everyone’s a winner!

Scenario 2

You’ve made it into the club and you’re dancing around having a grand old time. All of a sudden a random Thai guy comes up to you smiling and offers you some of his drink.

Scotland – Date rape! Date rape! The guy’s obviously trying to drug you so you take the only logical course of action and smash a bottle in his face. All sorts of trouble with cops and bouncers ensues.

Thailand – Congratulations, you’ve just made a new friend! Offering another guy a sip of your drink is just a way of saying hi so accept it and enjoy the party.

Scenario 3

The club has closed, It’s 5am. You’re a good way from your flat, very tired and pretty drunk. Your choices seem to be walk, taxi, tuk-tuk or ride your moped back.

Scotland – Either of the first two choices would work, most likely the second which will cost you ten quid or so.

Thailand – What’s the point of having a moped if you don’t use it? The concept of drunk-riding is pretty popular here and the cops will only rarely stop a farang, either if you’re absolutely blind drunk or they’re skint and need some bribe money.

Scenario 4

You arrive home at 5:15 but you and your flatmates still fancy a drink. There’s none in the flat, what do you do?

Scotland – You grumble about it then slope off to bed, dry as a bone.

Thailand – You go to a 24-hour off-license and keep the party truckin’ on as long as you damn well please. Or if you’re lucky you go to a restaurant for some food and a pint. Opening hours? Licensing laws? These concepts don’t exist here.

And that’s just a taster, this place has surprises at every turn and most of them are good. Come try it

Not all fun and games

Yeah, hard as it is to believe, there are downsides to upping sticks and moving to a tropical paradise to start a new life.

The last week and a half have been a whirlwind – the epic journey; moving into a new flat; training for a new job; trying to get to grips with an utterly alien language; building a new network of friends – and while it’s mostly been a blast, it does get hard at times. Really hard.

The jetlag doesn’t help. For some reason when I came over to train at Fairtex a few months back my body clock managed to adjust in just a few days, probably because of the intensive training schedule. This time it’s just not working, I’m forced to operate on a couple of hours sleep a night in an environment which would be draining at the best of times. So far I’ve been able to get away with it because I’ve just been shadowing Nikki while she takes her classes but next week I’ll be the teacher and will have to actually be awake, alert, totally in control. As much as I hate to admit it, it looks like some heavy duty sleeping pills are going to be the only solution in the short term.

The language barrier is getting to me as well. After a while it starts to become just a tad annoying knowing that you can only eat in a handful of places, the select few with English menus. I know a few phrases and managed to successfully buy a few chicken skewers at a night market stall using only Thai but that’s the limit of my abilities. Keep in mind that they have a totally different alphabet so even trying to guess at foods on a Thai menu is out of the question for now.

And then there’s the loneliness. Yeah I’ve built up a good circle of friends so far but it’s not like back home. They’re more acquaintances, drinking buddies, folk you can stop and chat to in passing, but there’s nothing like the close friendships I left back in Scotland. That takes time, and the worst thing about the present situation is that most of the people I really get on with so far are leaving in a couple of months, that’s just something that comes with the job. There’ll be an equal influx of new faces to balance it out of course but the real friendship thing is going to take time.

And romance.

Yeah, that old chestnut I gave up on many moons ago.

A lot of guys here get settled with Thai girlfriends but for me the language barrier would be too much of a problem for that, I need to be able to communicate 100% with someone in a relationship. That leaves the western girls but there are all sorts of other problems there. For starters most are already taken! There is one lass I have foolishly manage to fall for, a beautiful, smart, funny girl who arrived a couple of days after me, but it seems so far to be a one-way attraction. In any case I’ve partly forgotten how you even approach this sort of thing and, even if I could remember, part of me’s still too shit-scared to make a move anyway, still hurting from last year’s events. I just miss having someone to confide in, someone to reassure and who’ll reassure me, someone to play with. You have no idea how much that would help with all the other problems.

Chances are all this shit will sort itself out soon, I’ll acclimatise, adjust to the new sleeping patterns, pick up the lingo, sort out the friendship/relationship thing and everything will be hunky-dory; living the dream. Till then I guess I just have to accept that there are going to be bad times mixed in with the good, just roll with the punches and keep on truckin’.

I’ve dealt with a fuck of a lot worse after all.

PS, to Sarah The Ex – I now totally appreciate why you were sounding so miserable on Messenger when you first got to Berlin.

PPS – Since writing this I’ve been for a muckle night out (8pm till 5/6am!), had a braw time and generally chilled out :p