It’s Live Blog Friday! Sure It’s Tuesday, But Who Cares? (Update Part 15)

Diary2goodtimesnew

Dear LiveBlogAudience:

Today was just another typical Friday. You know, huge bugs, teaching foreign students alone, hiking who knows where, seeing new bug species, being left alone in a deserted mini-village, night trekking, walking over a bamboo bridge, etc. Nothing too crazy. So here’s a live-blog (if I’d actually had an internet connection) of what my day entailed. This is an honest timeline, taken from my watch and the snapshot time, of most of my day, complete with untouched, uncropped photos. Sure wish I had a true macro lens, though!

 

7:28AM: Because I am a bad person, I wake up about 2 hours after everyone else. My natural alarm is the delightful sounds of kids banging on and screaming against my room

8:45AM: Breakfast is late for no particular reason, which means that classes will be late as well. What’s delicious this morning? Mashed frog with chile, mashed liver of something with chile, some kind of chopped cucumber with egg, something else I either can’t remember or don’t want to describe, and the usual sticky rice. I can barely stomach any of it.

9:16AM: Classes have failed to start—or maybe they have (I’m never sure around here because the teachers and kids are always kind of roaming around outside and talking)—and my friend is about to leave for his all-day meeting. One of our students brings in a pet of his—this giant bug with nasty pincers the size of my nose—and I get a photo with it despite the fact that its grasp is really hurting my hand. I set it in a box because the owner naturally left the classroom. I wave goodbye to my friend. 

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 9:48AM: What should I be more concerned about: The fact that bug-with-jaws is now lost and loose in my classroom, or the fact that my friend the English teacher wrote that today is Firday, July th27 2012?  (Update: the bug was never found)

9:50AM: In typical Thai teaching fashion, I wasn’t told what to do while my friend was gone, so I’m using the cardinal rule of “teach anything you darn please. All I do know is that I’m sure as heck not following any curriculum—not that I even would know what curriculum to use. Yesterday he even admitted that Grade 6 was behind, and he closed the day’s learning with a Grade 1 English book. Pretty embarrassing that after 5 years of English lessons, the kids still know barely more than their ABCs, a few numbers, and some common phrases. Even then, they don’t truly know how to answer “How are you?” with anything other than a rote “I am fine.” I do my own thing, essentially teaching illiterate young adults.

10:25AM: I’m so bloody excited that the students are catching on! In just a few hours, I’m absolutely positive I’ve taught them more than they usually learn in 2 weeks. It’s really exciting to teach them skills they’ll be able to use for life. I just hope they won’t forget.

12:38PM: Lunch. No one speaks English. The food is palatable.

3:12PM: Teachers are walking around outside. Doesn’t the day end at 4, I ask myself every day? There never seems to be a schedule, and at 3:30PM, all the classes let out. I’ll never understand.

3:32PM: All the teachers have roared off on their motorbikes. The groundskeeper and I are the only ones left. I wait for my friend and eat some leftovers, write a note, and leave at 4:15PM down a steep, muddy, and slippery trail in the only shoes I have with me.

 4:21PM: I see this butterfly—a new species for me! 

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4:29PM: Leafy grasshopper? I’ve seen this one, but it’s still awesome. 

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4:33PM: My favorite shot of the day. It’s…can I say…almost adorable? 

Stealth Attack by Kathryn Cooper, Northern Thailand

4:50PM: New dragonfly species found at a little brook! 

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5:00PM: Another new one! I just got to the river and there’s lots of flying activity. How often do you see a dragonfly with green eyes and buck teeth? 

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5:03PM: Wow, I haven’t seen this one either! 

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5:10PM: Okay, now this is getting ridiculous. Another new one. 

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5:23PM:  Another butterfly I’ve never seen. 

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5:23PM: Look closely so you can see its incredible curled tongue. 

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5:23PM: Now I think it’s tripping on ‘shrooms. 

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5:26PM: The awesome bamboo bridge. It’s hard to see how awesome—and potentially dangerous—this thing is. I need a photo that combines the crazy side angle, the crazy hill in the middle, and the mere two metal cables holding the thing up (aside from the fraying rope). It’s a bridge gone so wrong but so right.

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5:31PM: This one shows it a wee bit better.

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5:50PM: Do you see what I see? 

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5:51PM: Awesome. 

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5:53PM: I wish I had a better photo of this red glitter that came flying out of nowhere. It’s alive, and I have no clue what it is, but it’s a whole lot prettier in person. Wow. 

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 6:01PM: Sweet! 

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 6:06PM: Yes, it’s a piggyback ride. Kinda cute, too.

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6:06PM: If this doesn’t look scary, then I guess cyclops-scorpion-hairy-spiderish-probably-the-tail-contains-venom bugs don’t scare you.

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6:12PM: Even tiny, semi-ubiquitous bugs are beautiful here.

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6:17PM: The bumblebees just have to go and be prettier than the American ones. I see how it is.

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6:19PM: Back! Well that was 2 hours rather well spent, methinks! Just beautiful. And the electricity came back! Part of it, at least.

6:25PM: My friend gets back and we’re alone on the school premises. We start to prepare dinner and I ask his opinion of the Thai English curriculum. He seems to think that it works and that it’s effective in the cities, but that people are too shy to use it. He believes the village kids need motivation to learn, and that it’s…less rigorous coursework, shall we say, than in the city, but that overall it’s a good program. I want to yell about how terrible the curriculum is, how bad his English is considering he majored in it in college (though the same could be said for our college students), that city kids have a bit more knowledge but still speak with terrible grammar and vocabulary, and that the village kids don’t have a fighting chance, as they’ve taken English for five years and still can’t sound out words because no one understands what the actual letters sound like or mean. They’re not really learning, per se, but instead memorizing occasional words that have no relation to anything. That they WANT to learn and shouldn’t be seeing movies. That if their teacher doesn’t understand fundamental letter sounds, spelling, and grammar, then he can’t teach it. That if you gave me one week, I’d literally teach them more than they’ll learn this entire semester. That is pathetic. I want to argue, but I know it’s useless; he’ll make up some excuse because Thai teaching is from another planet. I am completely frustrated and want to rip their stupid curriculum in half. Which might help, actually, because they teach the letter A, then I, then H, then E and J. Seriously.

6:55PM: We sit down for dinner. I’m getting attacked by bugs and scratch my bitten ankles. Remember that I told you how people rub their feet, pick their toenails, pick their noses, rub their bellies, and eat, often without washing their hands? I told you only some of that, but really, when you’re in such a disgusting habitat, it all blends together. Plus, everyone shares from bowls of food served family-style.  Anyhow, I went to get the soy sauce to cover up the taste of the nasty dinner, and as I go to wash my hands, my friend says, “Uh, you know, if with others, you wash your hands. It’s bad you should know if you touch, you wash. Not good.” I’m ashamed. I have made yet another faux pas. I rinse off my hands, sit back down on the floor, pick the dead bug off my rice, and eat the rest of my meal in humiliation and silence.

7:42PM: One of my friend’s former students joins us for a night trek. It’s still bloody hot but I still need to wear pants and a sweater due to snakes, mud, and bugs, so we set out and I slip and slide in my inappropriate and treads-be-gone sandals. The student, who is a dead ringer for the fat kid in Up, loves using his slingshot to mame the bats, frogs, and katydids we pass. Once we hike up and then down into the rice field valley, Sanit keeps putting frogs and other creatures into my hand. I have mud all over, am sweating like a pig, and smell even worse than usual. Is that even possible?

8:36PM: The kid has hacked off some bamboo with his knife and is peeling the layers, but it appears he just wanted to show off his machete skills. Well really, Sanit has the machete (and a gun), and the kid has more of a meat cleaver. Still.

8:52PM: The next thing the kid slingshots is caught by Sanit and slurped up by him, too. I’ll never know what it was.

9:14PM: We’re back and I’m happy to change out of my muddy clothes, but not happy for the ice-cold shower. What’s the point of installing a heating system if it never has and never will work?

9:52PM: Sanit teaches me a new card game, slaughters me in it, then reveals later on that he cheated every time to win. I go to bed at 11 something, semi-distraught and with a room full of thousands of tiny, swarming flying insects. Luckily my mosquito net keeps me safe and sound. And bug-bitten, because it has GIANT HOLES IN IT. 

Goodnight, Friday. Sincerely, Coop

Off to Thailand. Goodbye, Malaysia! (Update Part 13)

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When I arrive in a new place, you may think the first thing I do is to sample some of the local cuisine or find some adventure activities at the nearest national park. Quite the contrary, I actually enjoy buying a newspaper, walking to the local Golden Arches, and sitting down with my international iPhone translator app in order to gain a true sense of where I am, read up on the cuisines of the region, and hunt for an additional husband in the personal ads. If FOX news and other sensationalized media have your hair constantly standing on end, I think you’ll find the honesty in these Asiatic countries rather refreshing.


Here, for example, is a clip from a newspaper tourism section I found:

The Cuisine of India: Here, it’s Our Food that Brings You Hair-Tingling Experiences

 Ah…so that’s why I got nasty black hairs in my food nearly every day.


Or take these two charming ads I found in a Bangkok daily:

Single Thai Male, 31, 5’7”. Enjoys sitting idle and rubbing feet and/or picking toenails. A lifeless look while moving hands from feet to snack food is my specialty. What gets me going? Girls who get turned on by the site of my belly showing in public. Ladies who will wear the same shirt day in and day out. If you enjoy snotting on it and wiping the day’s food remains on it too, even better. A gal who enjoys a brisk shower with no option of heat. If you’re good at hula hoop, that’s hot.

Single Thai Female, 18, 5’7” with 5” stilettos: Inspirational quote: “Tee-hee-hee-hee! Giggle, giggle, oh you so funny, tee-hee-heeeee!” About me: “Shews!””

 

On the subject of personal ads, I found this one to be extremely upfront and honest. And who can fault one for that?

Malay Muslim Man, either single or already married, 47, 5’7”: I’m staring at you. From across the way. No, not in a romantic way. I mean literally, right as you’re reading this, I am the creepy guy across the way who keep my eyes on you at all times, no matter where I am in the coffee shop/bus/mall. You just looked up and caught my eye, then quickly looked down. Sketchy? Yes. Threatening? Sure. Thinking of calling the cops? // If you enjoy these possibly dangerous courtship procedures and want a life with little or no power and choice, call me. Or just give me a nod, ‘cause I’m still staring at you.


And you know, I had a lovely, albeit short, time in Laos while renewing my Thai visa. I saw this advertisement on the front of a Laotian expat monthly:

Laos: When the White Man tires of the Thai WoMan, we Lao Women will step up to the plate.

Oh right, one of the guys I knew had a fling last month with a Thai woman after  a trannie cabaret show. He said he was too drunk to be sure of…well… ANYHOW, in other news, Laos is the new Thailand when it comes to lonely,  disheveled, bearded, post-divorcees wanting an Asian wife. Total stereotype,  but you can’t ignore what’s smack in your face all the time.


And finally, a welcome booklet I saw in Singapore:

Singapore: We love welcoming visitors to our future city, but make sure you read up on our rules before entering the country. To make learning about Singapore a little more fun, we’ve put our rules into a quick little jingle for you to remember. It goes something like this (sung to the tune of “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” but not really):

Jaywalking  =  A FINE

Littering = A FINE

Leaving Singapore in a Singaporean car without a ¾ full tank of gas = A FINE

Gum, Firecrackers, or non-sanctioned alcohol and cigarettes = A FINE

Doing drugs and getting caught = THE DEATH PENALTY

Drug trafficking = THE DEATH PENALTY

Getting caught carrying drugs, including “just” marijuana = THE DEATH PENALTY

Anyone who does something wrong in Singapore = THE DEATH PENALTY

He he, we’re just kidding on that last one. See, we have a sense of humor, too. Everyone is welcomed who will obey!

Enjoy Singapore!

———————————

Before I got to Thailand, and after I said farewell to my brother, a photographer approached me out of the blue. She was probably curious to know why a white girl was sitting in her apartment’s courtyard, but had no idea that I, too, was a photographer. Wonder of wonders, and as seems to happen in Asia, we ended up chatting the day away and she ended up hosting me for two days. I learned so much from her—about the life of a Malay Muslim woman, about her photography, and about her as a person. Not only that, but she let me play around with her photo equipment and even had her youngest model for us during a shoot. “Baby,” as she is called, enjoyed throwing the leaves up in the air so much that I had to laugh each time she giggled with glee. After saying a sad farewell to her, I visited my friends yet again, then caught a bus up to the Thai island of Koh Tao for more diving. Dive I did, but I quickly got sick of seeing drunk Westerners crash their motorbikes, injure themselves, and general gain the disrespect of the Thai community. It just wasn’t my scene, and I was eager to escape the 100+-degree heat and visit my friend in the mountains. I boarded a bus to Bangkok…and got delayed again by my friend there, whose hometown I was visiting. My remedy? Laos, but that’s for next time. Here are some photos of the island and more, macro shots from experimenting with lenses, and one happy (and unphotoshopped!) kid.

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Diving in Malaysia and Biking in Singapore. Next Up, Eating (Update Part 11)

June was great! I left India and have been wearing shorts every single day just to spite that country. Anyhow!

During the month of June I made great new friends in Malaysia, ate my favorite foreign dish–roti canai–visited my college friend Whitney in Singapore, had my older brother Timothy fly out to meet me as we ate through all the Singaporean hawker stalls, and then went back to Malaysia to visit friends, eat, and get SCUBA certified on the northern islands! Diving has been a dream of mine for a while and something I’d been looking forward to my entire trip, so I was quite thrilled to be in a lovely landscape and have my brother along with me.

Since most of my time the past few weeks has been spent in the water diving with various fish, I thought you might be interested in seeing just a bit of what I’ve been able to see underwater. Yes, I’ve seen all these fish (and many, many more) listed below with my very own eyes—no joke! I didn’t take these photos, but Google did, and I think you’ll be able to marvel at the beauty of these creatures while learning a bit about life in the sea. 

Sting

Blue-Spotted Stingray

Body around 28″ in length; up to 4ft. long from head to tail

Yellow-grey coloring with bright blue spots and long, blue tail with white underside

Can be found hiding under rocks or large coral patchesgroups; lives alone or in small

Is unable to rid himself of the negative image brought on by his cousin’s great-great uncle, the late Sting, who was most notorious for killing wildlife legend Steve Irwin. Suffers from Generalized Anxiety Disorder when at parties and introducing himself

 

Christmas

Christmas Tree Worms

1-3 inches in length; usually grows in clusters

Colors range from solid blues and yellows to pink, black, and white striped

Will react to changes in water pressure or irritation by withdrawing into its small lair

Sick of telling people it’s Jewish

 

{photo removed due to either copyright, species, or gender infringement}

Batfish, Goatfish, Butterflyfish, Lionfish, etc.

 

6-20 inches in length

 

Colors vary from intense yellows and blues to whites and blacks. Many striped

 

Blame Noah and his ark for running out of original names for his children of the ocean

 


Grouper

*Note: That is not I in the photo. I did not grow a bald head since I left the states.

Giant Grouper

3-5.5ft. in length 

Colors range from brown-and-grey-striped to black-spotted

Often stays hidden in dark crevices or under coral, but occasionally catches sunlight while resting directly atop rock pinnacles; looks like the giant fish from “Big Fish”

Perhaps ingested too much milk and hormone-injected meat as a child, thus resulting in its current overgrown state; intends to try Jenny Craig, as Weight Watchers is much to clicky for him


Banner

Bannerfish

Body 5-8 inches in length; head banner 8-14 inches in length

White, black, and yellow striped bodies with a white flag

Still try to cover up the fact that they use L.A. Looks brand hair gel to get their fauxhawks looking great. The other fish know

 

Trevally

White/Clear Trevally 

Little data exists on species

So clear-colored and hard to see that few accurate sightings have been made

A recent sighting in Malaysia revealed a fish, confusing lack of color for another attractive sub-species, thought Kathryn Cooper was its new mate; the sighting was confirmed when embarrassment in the form of blushing showed up as pink dots on camera sensors from both fish and human species. Neither has been seen since


Triggerfish

Titan Triggerfish

12-24 inches in length

Black body with unique colored stripes, spots, and additional markings; clown lips.

If you get near it, it will bite you. It will attack your feet or hands, or, if you use your fins to get him away, he’ll clamp down and take a bite out of your fin. He’ll chase you around for 20-30 minutes. But don’t get him wrong; just because he is violent at work doesn’t necessarily mean that he supports domestic violence. 

 

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Wrasse

2-14 inches in length

Pink squiggles and stripes on top of green, blue, white, orange, or yellow mottled skin

Wants to be noticed for her personality for once, not her stunningly gorgeous looks, lusciously smooth skin, and ideal tail-to-jaw ratio. The shoe collection is just for fun; she can donate the extra Choos and Blahniks at any time, especially if she meets a guy who’s worth it. And as long as you treat her like a princess, she’ll be loyal to you. When she’s in a good mood, what’s not to love?


 

Angel

Blue-Ringed Angelfish

7-14 inches in length

Depending on species, may have yellow, blue, black, white, and other colored stripes on blue, orange, yellow, or white bodies; tail may be a different color from body

Snout-nosed mouth on some species

Mates for life, so if you see just one, rest assured that those plastic rings from your old 6-pack Pepsi cans you bought in the 90s killed its mate. Way to go, man. Or should I say MURDERER?!

 

Oh, and here are some photos from time spent around Singapore and Malaysia: Biking Pulau Ubin, Singapore, underwater photography in Perhentian Kecil, Malaysia, and more. Next up? Yup, food photos only. 

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Anyhow, Timothy has headed home after 2 weeks of intense eating, and I’ve spent some interesting time in Malaysia and now Thailand, diving more and soon heading up into the mountains for some intense secluded village time in the middle of who knows where, northern Thailand. When will I go, where will I stay, and what will I eat? All I know is that a whole lot of rice is about to make an appearance, so I won’t be a happy girl very shortly. Stay tuned!

 

With love but no cheese,

 Li’l Coopy

My Southeast Asia Trip Part 9 (But I’ve still got one more a’comin’. Note, not trip)! .

Hi everyone!

I was planning on sending an update while still in Vietnam, but alas, I didn’t have time to type anything before my flight left. I flew from Vietnam to Taiwan to Alaska to New York. It was a long and strange flight path to be sure, but just smelling that Palin-Alaskan air renewed my spirit and made me want to go shoot a moose and/or have an illicit baby, so believe it or not, I’m HOME! I spent one night in the city, then came up to where my folks live in good ol’ Pleasant Valley. I ate a lot. I started telling stories, then realized that I had written a good many letters home that I could share instead. Some got forwarded here anyway, so I have quite a few to share. I thought I’d get them out and show them to you just so you get a peek into some of my more personal rantings.

Oh, and here’s one more thing I’ve got to share, because I think it’s fascinating. Did you know that Christmas is huge in Vietnam? I mean huge. There are decorations nearly everywhere, holiday pajamas being worn, and salesgirls wearing filtration masks and dressed in prosticute little santa-ess dresses that barely reach the mid-thigh. It’s a naughty version of Christmas that just seems wrong. You know what’s even more wrong? The Vietnamese singing Christmas carols. You can order up your special holiday music performed just for you in one of two incredible ways: Sung in Vietnamese and syllabically misaligned, or, even better, sung in English like this:

Jin-gle bews, Jing-gle bews,
Jin-gle aw da way,
Oh whas Ph??? is is to rie
In a one hohse o-pen say, HEY!

It’s a terrible experience. Reading my note can’t be much worse. Enjoy!

Dear French people,
It’s not that you’re trying to be rude. It’s just that you’re in your own little world of superiority. You don’t even notice other people, and it’s almost as if you walk through us than past us. Normally when meeting people I can have a normal conversation and decide if you’re interesting or not. With you, it’s like you’re in a members-only la-la land. You definitely rub people the wrong way. You’re weird.

Dear Cambodia,
You are a place where futures are today and careers are hammock lounging. Even the monks seem to be lazy, doing their morning alms at 9, 10, or even 11 in the morning. When I see markets in any country, my heart starts beating faster as I always want to jump in and see what I can find. Here, in your country, I have no desire to. Everything is the same. You don’t even try to look different, setting up every stall alike. I know what you’re selling from 50 feet away and because there are only about 10 dishes to choose from in the entire country, I’ve had whatever you’re hawking many times before, which still doesn’t make it tasty. Other than your complete lack of enthusiasm for life, you also alienate everyone with your constant request for money and your most obnoxious taxi/tuk-tuk/moto drivers. Never before have I not wanted to get out and explore a city so much as in your capital city, Phnom Penh. Not only was there almost nothing to see, but the constant harassment one faced by simply walking outside was enough to make me want to stay inside. The fact that you people wage light physical assaults on your own kind in order to sell a $1 soda makes me feel a little bit better, but still makes me sad. As does the fact that there are always about eight of you all hired to do a one-person job. Look, I know you went through terrible times. I cannot even begin to imagine what the older generation of your country went through and lives with to this day. But at some point you have to have a reason for living, a purpose, something your country is known for other than a huge ruin that’s been there for centuries. Your current generation has to do something you can be proud of, or make use of, or something, don’t you think? While I understand how your horrific background has resulted in your complacency today, your in-your-face hunger for money simply alienates me, you’re full of no innovation, and you offer little that surrounding countries don’t do better. I’m sorry to say this, but I have no desire to visit you again.

Dear Vietnam,
Compared to Cambodia, you are a futuristic country. You have such modern marvels as:

Jobs
Things to do
Careers
Toilets and showers that aren’t merged closer than Siamese twins
Activities involving things other than sitting in a hammock
Styles other than pajamas
Places to go
Technology
Lives
Variety
Soap
The habit of brushing one’s teeth
Visitors other than the French
A few more things

But for you and Cambodia both, every single place is looked at not as a place of beauty, or a place to respect or be proud of, but as another money opportunity. I suppose that once again I can’t blame you too much for wanting money, but that doesn’t mean I can’t complain. You aggressively try to get tourist dollars at any and all points along a trip. At the beginning of a boat trip. On the boat. In the middle of the boat trip, when I’m stuck in a floating tourist trap. Before I get on the bus, just in case I changed my mind in the last 14.1 seconds and do want to purchase that giant tablecloth. Oh, we need a bathroom break? We’ll get out at this rest stop for 20 minutes, and that’s not to relieve anyone of the oddly settled meal we may have had the other night, but to get us to roam a handicrafts store and purchase something out of boredom, which I refuse.
On your good side, you have several things going for you. First, I’m always shocked that you can smile and welcome us Americans. Perhaps it’s because you won the war, but the fact that you don’t hate me and are able to treat me like everyone else is really shocking. I keep expecting an attitude change once your people learn that I’m from the previous enemy country, but apparently you have forgiven.
You have absolutely stunning views all over. My train trip gave me a look into the side that tourists don’t see too often, that is, your raw, wild countryside. It definitely makes me want to go back, but next time, take it easy on trying to get my money, will you?

Dear Kenny G,
I still don’t know why you exist.

Dear Tourist,
Sure you want to travel, to explore the world. That’s fine and all, but I bet you could get a lot more done if you didn’t spend a good chunk of your time bragging about where you’ve been and how many countries you’ve crossed off your list. Hint: You haven’t seen a country just because you’ve visited or even lived in the largest city for a while. In what way is that representative of a country, its land, its people? Oh, so you know exactly what the U.S. is like because you’ve visited NYC, eh? Goodness, try really seeing a country for what it really is.
If you enjoy taking the common tours and seeing the sites, that’s fine and dandy. I’m not saying I’m better than you, or that you’re a bad person. Just don’t pretend or tell others that you’re breaking new ground and seeing “undiscovered” places. You’re never gonna find ’em, and you know why? Because you, like everyone else, are using your Lonely Planet guide. “Oh, Lonely Planet is the best out there, and I really trust it.” That’s all well and good, but not only does Lonely Planet accept bribes for higher placement in its tour books (as I’m sure all of the guidebook companies do), but everyone, and I mean that almost literally, has them. Out of the hundreds and hundreds of people I’ve seen with guidebooks, only three, that’s right, three, have had a non-Lonely Planet guide. These three were all French, because the French are so superior that they also have their own guidebook. Essentially, what this means is that all of you travelers are reading the exact same thing. This means you’re all reading the same “secrets,” all going to the same “rarely visited” places, etc. And you think you’re exploring? The real adventurers I met were the couple who biked from England to Vietnam. The young woman who snuck into Tibet several times. The guy working several years in countries from Estonia to Fiji. If you want to do the normal stuff, that’s fine. Just don’t go telling me that you’re forging new territory, because you’re not at all. “Oh, we’re going our own way and doing the tour ourselves!” you say proudly, knowing you’re truly an explorer. You’re not, really. Sure, you’re taking the more challenging, exciting, and risky route, but you’re still all going to the exact same place in the end, doing the same thing, and haggling for prices with the same tourist-familiar guides. You know what village life is like because you slept over for a night. You witnessed a “real” tribal dance. You did this and that. Sorry, but even the government admits that these things are all set up to get tourist dollars, and that these ceremonies are rarely performed for real.
I’m not saying you’re not having fun, or not seeing things, or that you’re a bad person, or need to change your ways. I’m just saying, dude, don’t make it seem like you’ve actually explored, or gone off the beaten path, or met the real people of the country. Because, as it turns out, you haven’t been a trendsetter, but rather a follower like nearly everyone else.

Dear Cats,
You think your life is so tough, don’t you? Sometimes when you’re sleeping for your 25th hour of the day, one of your masters makes you get up and move to another couch. Or worse yet, you only get half of the tuna drippings. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Well you know what? Try thinking of those less fortunate than you. The cats in Thailand and Malaysia get their tails chopped off for good luck. Sometimes they get them knotted and then chopped, leaving one heck of a demented-looking stub. Few cats escape without such treatment. So consider that next time you whine about not having your premium Kibbles ‘n’ Bits served to you in a crystal goblet.

Dear Mom,
Seriously, you really thought I’d lose weight?

Dear Karaoke,
It’s amazing what you say about a country. Somehow, through your corny music, you manage to represent the very being of every place I visited.
For you, Thailand, it’s mostly just happy music, though 99% of the time it’s about searching for love. Your country is infatuated with this constant search for love, but your tradition says you’re not allowed to show any of this love in public, so you don’t even kiss your hubby goodbye in the morning. Still, in the land of smiles, it’s the anyone-can-sing-as-long-as-he/she-wants, happy-go-lucky approach. Just like the country, in Thailand you represent happiness, a search for love, and a low-stress way of life.
For Malaysia, oh right, Islamic women aren’t really supposed to sing, so what few karaoke places there are remain dominated by male singers. One karaoke incident there recently featured two men who were arrested for the murder of Abdul Sani Doli, a man who apparently sang too long and got penalized for hogging the microphone. Messed up. I haven’t heard your music, but despite the natural beauty of your country, your corrupt government and the slightly peculiar ways of your people unfortunately describe you to a T.
When you play in Cambodia, you’re rather pathetic, and the fact that no one actually sings to you is quite sadly bizarre. Your music videos are a stretch, to be polite. Pretty much every video features the same stage full of people (often looking uninterested) and doing the same slow dance. They don’t even look happy when the low-def. camera is featuring them! I know the Khmer people went through a horrific event, but after 30 years, can’t someone try something unique? In this country, you really show yourself as the dull, uncreative, stuck-in-the-medieval-times country you are.
When in Vietnam, you are screechy and obnoxious, but varied. You show your soft side and your tough side. Not just a tad in-your-face, the Vietnamese version of you plays fairly nonstop. I’m not sure if it’s more or less palatable than the Cambodian version, but given that the Vietnamese language is pitch-based, I’m going to hand the annoying prize to Vietnam. At one point I really thought I was going to join the deaf community with your fingernails-on-chalkboard squawking. Your music in Vietnam is just like the country. Diverse, tough, victorious, yearning, and more.
All in all, I’m not a fan of your musi. But the ability for a country to display its personality through your medium is quite fascinating.

Dear Dead People,
Sometimes you’re open to new suggestions, and sometimes you’re not. I mean, when you’re alive. Well, I just want to help educate the public, and inform you that you now have two choices for burial. The Southeast Asian special is a more typical burial style, involving less luxury but more freedom of choice. Of course, you’re dead, so you ain’t got no choice, but hear me out. You can have your typical Southeast Asian burial where you’re wrapped in a simple cloth, placed maybe a foot underground, and given a huge stone coffin box to mark your spot. And you’re placed on a hill. If you’re in Vietnam when your time comes, hopefully you don’t mind sitting amidst the rice, because that’s where you’ll be. Cost of option one: your life.
But for a special offer of only 27 payments of $39.99 (plus shipping, handling, and your life), you can get bathed, dressed, and placed in a shelf-stable wooden coffin. And buried below the ground, not on a hill, because unlike the simple burial, please do realize that with any Poltergeist-like flood, ol’ granny cakes could come a’rollin’ through the front door wearing little clothing. And that’s just not cool.

Dear Temporary Mom in Malaysia,
You were so kind and generous in sharing your home, your family, your food. You taught me so much and helped me learn about your country and your people while I lived with you. But then you turned a tad crazy, playing the blame game, going on many a rant, and insisting you didn’t know hugely important bits of info related to, oh, life and/or my safety. I admire you tremendously, but yeah, you’re sort of crazy, and the fascination with mopping will always confuse me. It’s a somewhat useless, vicious cycle. You and all of Southeast Asia have this no-shoes rule, which is commonly known. But then you do the whole mopping thing, which causes me to slip and fall, and really doesn’t serve a purpose. You see, mopping removes hardened dirt and sticky stuff. Hardened dirt and sticky stuff occur when stuff gets dirty while wet. This doesn’t occur in normal conditions. But when you mop, it leaves the floor wet, and then the dirt accumulates from bare feet – no matter how clean – walking on a wet surface. You therefore have to keep mopping and mopping since you don’t ever let the floor dry before re-nastying it up. Also P.S., mopping doesn’t actually CLEAN. It redistributes things like dirt particles, crumbs, and hairs. Sweeping was invented for a reason. But thanks for making it completely nasty every time I walked in your house and especially your bathroom.

Dear Village in Thailand,
I complained about you left and right. Your food was terrible and I didn’t feel as useful as I could have been. Except for those things, though, you were exactly what I wanted. During my first week there, I went for a walk, turned a corner, and gasped at your beauty. Never before have I nearly hyperventilated at a view, but I did just that. Living there was stress-free. No computers, no hassles, no unnecessary anything. You knew these things existed but kept life simple and pure. We practically lived off the land, but with a few modern conveniences, such as electricity. Your people were very kind. Your teachers, very dedicated. The food outside your village, delicious. The rest of Thailand, absolutely beautiful. I may have complained while I was there, but you are what I thought about during the rest of my trip, and you’re what I wanted to go back to. I felt so safe, calm, and comfortable in this place so completely opposite my world. You are the most gorgeous place I have ever visited, and I will never forget you.

Dear Thailand Music Videos,
Just thought I’d drop you a line telling you that I really, really love your music videos. The fact that the people lip syncing and performing the songs are not the actual singers is a terrific idea, because who wouldn’t want to see Kid Rock act out a Nickelback song?

Well that’s all for now. You thought you’d escape with this being my last note, but no, I’ve got a summary coming next week. It just wouldn’t be proper to leave without reaching my full annoying potential, so you’ll be getting one more note from me.

And to answer your question, pizza was the first thing I meant to eat when I landed, but my brother brought me a brownie which was so good that I teared up. I’m not even kidding.

It’s really time to go now. There are people to talk to, lounging around to do, and, oh, a life plan to figure out at some point. But not now. Time to go and fill my hungry stomach with pure, fatty goodness.

For the second to last time,
Coop