Go Fish…
Well, don’t plans change…it all started when our flight from Kathmandu to Delhi got cancelled.
This wasn’t a bad thing really as although we had to get three bag searches and waited for three hours for the news (twice), the airline put us up in a schpinky five star hotel, paid for food, accommodation and transport, and then put us on a plane the next day (good thing we left a day between our connecting flight).
Despite the chaos and jeering from disgruntled passengers, we couldn’t help but laugh at the hilarity of the situation (maybe we could only laugh because we weren’t going to miss a connecting flight…). But the best thing about being delayed in Kathmandu was that it meant one less day to spend in Delhi.
When we arrived at Indira Gandhi International Airport, we migrated to the waiting lounge where we claimed our spot on three arm-rest-less seats and made ourselves as comfortable as possible for the night. We were lucky – some people only found a bit of ground, and the air of Delhi permeated even the internal areas. So through the thick haze of pollution and elevator-esque musak, we managed to find a few hours of sleep, interrupted only by flight announcements at three minute intervals. Sleeping in shifts of four hours each, we then prepared to board our flight.
John made his morning bathroom trip and found that the one that we had used all night was closed, and he had to resort to the ‘public’ bathroom. This reminded him once again why he desperately wanted to get out of India. After paying his 10 Rupee (30 cents) admission charge, he had to line up with forty other stinking men, who hoiked, spat, pushed and groin-rubbed their way to the beginning of the queue. Forty minutes later, it’s his turn. The toilet was blocked, the seat was covered in filth and the floor was swimming with excrement and rubbish. So, fleeing with a full bladder, we hurried through check-in, security search and immigration to the relative delights of a clean bathroom in the departure lounge. Phew!
There was much exaltation and sighs of massive relief as we finally left the ground. Handshakes all ‘round and congratulations at having survived (and then we touched wood because we realized that if the plane crashed, we were still over Indian soil).
Arriving at the new airport in Bangkok was nothing short of orgasmic. Like pious Christians (not that we are) arriving at the pearly gates of St Peter (not that it was) after a much mistaken tenure in hell (yeah, kinda), we were ushered politely and welcomingly with smiles and bows into a country we once thought was primitive. Oh how ignorant we were! The floors and walls were spotless and shiny; the construction sites were cordoned off; the Western toilets were clean, and paper was provided (on which Tiff commented that she smelt more than the facilities did); the helpers were helpful; the guards guarded; the workers worked; the cleaners cleaned and the taxi drivers used their meters… Wonders will never cease. And all the while people smiled and didn’t stare. It was good to be back.
We instantly felt dirty, under-dressed and like peasant folk in the big city, where hours ago we had felt clean, over-dressed and like kings touring the colonies. So yes, a huge lateral shift of perception.
We checked into a hotel, moved hotels the next day, revelled in large, clean, air-conditioned, modern shopping centres and planned our next SE Asian leg. Most importantly and first things first, John enjoyed beef. A huge, fast-food, beef burger. Not a happier man with a burger in his hand will you find (though subsequently he has also used this phrase in reference to pies, sticky rice, pizza, coffee and various other base culinary delights). Oh, and legs and short skirts. They too were in wonderful proliferation on the streets of Bangkok. What a joy to a hot-blooded male after such a drought – staring at the bare midriffs of fat middle-aged women in saris for four months. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just not the spice that puts the fire in this man’s belly. So viva la short skirts!
On the eve of our departure for Cambodia, the residual effects of John’s inadequate Indian medical treatment, and the culmination of three days of solid travel came to a head. He experienced massive cramping in his back and a relapse of the pain he experienced immediately after the accident. Basically he went back to square one (though without the immobility). So, the very next day the doctor sent our plans away, and ordered us not to travel (though this time it took very little to convince us). Covermore had sent us to the best of the best, five-star hotel-hospital in Bangkok. The Orthopaedic Surgeon referred John for immediate physical therapy (physio and other rehabilitation) and sentenced him to at least four weeks of treatment. *SIGH*.
But, it was the best thing that could possibly have happened as the treatment proved highly effective. The pain was on its way to being chronic and back immobility could have lasted many more months. Instead, we rejoiced that such little treatment could have such a profound effect, and cursed the Indian system for not prescribing similar treatment sooner. We also cursed John’s stubbornness to not bail from further travel earlier. Oh well, you live, you learn and you say der.
Taking advantage of our close proximity to five-star (comparatively cheap) medical treatment, Tiff was not to be outdone, and sought treatment for a residual shoulder injury sustained sometime during our Tonsai period (some suspect it was from playing too much pool/snooker [badly –John]). So, much to the amusement of medicos there, we were both attending physio sessions.
Our other time was spent packing, eating, researching our scary next leg in Japan, eating, learning Japanese, eating and Tiff running / John walking (and eating a big meal afterwards). So our second time in Thailand brought much more delight from culinary activities. We are not scared of street vendors anymore (after seeing the cleanliness of their stalls in stark contrast to India’s restaurants), although the food is still greasy it is incredibly tasty, and mealtimes are funtimes. We have come to the conclusion that India’s food is such a religious observance that all enjoyability seems to be sapped from the eating process, whereas here in Thailand, it is an any-time-of-day pastime and is done with vigour and gusto. The range of food is comprehensive, nothing is taboo to eat (although Buddhism says they are meant to be vegetarian), and the variations on a theme mean that even the most basic dish becomes extravagant. A re-discovery of the joy of eating has taken place, and our ever-increasing fat reserves are the proof.
We celebrated our birthdays with tailor-iced cakes and many candles, hugs, kisses and phone calls from home. Oh, and watching movies in Gold Class comfort. We’ve been watching a lot of movies here – affordable and with nothing much else to do. We’ve seen The Prestige (****), Flyboys (**), Monster House (a scary ***), Step Up (*), 007 Casino Royale (**** - haha it hadn’t even come out in Australia yet), Happy Feet (****) and The Banquet (**). Happy Feet is great – SEE IT for happy warm fuzzies.
So, we’re fat but we’re happy and collectively much healthier than we have been for a while. And eating ever-so cheaply. X-mas carols are being played in stores and trees and decorations are going up. What significance apart from commercial, Christmas has here we don’t know. But then, one could probably say the same for Australia. The smell of tinsel is making Tiff nostalgic (though John can’t even smell tinsel – yeah, he’s weird), and the Thai version of carols are just hilarious. We’ve had a room in a hotel pretty much in the centre of Bangkok and we love it. It’s big, it’s blue and it’s relatively cheap. It’s close to everything, has internet downstairs, and a beautiful Golden Retriever named Phet (Diamond) dog. But now it’s time to go.
Our sights are locked on Japan; the ultimate destination for our first nine months of travel. We will then have no tickets, no bookings and no destination for a good while. Even more scarily, we have to work, otherwise we are going to run out of money and have to come home. And everything is more expensive. We’re scared, anxious, excited, daunted but reassured by the fact that we have a few extraordinary friends helping us: Tomoko and David (Tomoko whom we met on our excursion to Pangong Lake in Leh, and her husband who we met in Kathmandu) and Dana (a uni friend of Tiff’s). It’s amazing how invaluable local knowledge is (as opposed to a guidebook).
Tiff has her first job interview ever. She hasn’t really ever had any interviews before. She’s either gotten jobs through contacts, in places where she was already known, or has been offered jobs. So it’s very exciting and she’s very nervous but John’s coaching her on etiquette (because he’s had more interviews than positions and can tell her what not to do).
He, on the other hand, isn’t wanted because he doesn’t have a degree: damn elitist bureaucrats (“…doesn’t mean I’m not edumacated though – I still speak English gooderer than most”).
So, a new culture, a new experience, a new life – for at least a little while. And our first Christmas away from home. And we’re looking forward to having a kitchen and cooking our own food.
Bits to End
Finest Moments #2:
*Scissors, paper rock-ing to a crowd of onlookers and drivers to decide which rickshaw driver to choose. They had no idea what we were doing but they laughed anyway.
*Dancing on sand dunes.
*Dancing in the snow.
*Waltzing (gingerly) in the hotel garden in Udaipur.
*Nearly falling off a camel.
*Falling off my (high) horse.
*Answering a taxi-driver’s ‘Rickshaw!’ with: “Yes it is! It is a rickshaw, and what a lovely rickshaw it is too! And this is a street pole, that is a cow, and I’m walking this way!”
*John ‘squawk’ing in the face of a street hassler, and watching his expression change from scared shitless to confusion to curiosity to annoyed scowl within a heart beat.
*Tiff being the hero of the moment and hitting the ‘stop’ button on an escalator at the airport (the only one in India), when an old woman got caught in the splits with one leg on the platform and one slowly traveling away from her.
*Snorkelling in the crystal clear waters of the Andaman Sea; coral and fish below, sun and smiles above.
*Making core sample suction holes with a straw in a jelly cup (and laughing manically).
*Pouring water on dry ice and marveling at the resultant smoke. Ooooooh, pretty.
*Playing scissors, paper, rock at Delhi airport just to pass time.
*Playing with a stupid KFC toy (strawberry pop-up girl) where you press strawberry-shaped buttons and a girl in the middle pops up randomly each time. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Yay!
*Missing cows in the street.
Ode to small things:
*Tom Kha Gai
*Beef
*5 baht (18 cent) pork skewers
*Sticky rice
*Taro buns
*Steamed BBQ pork buns
*Clean streets / garbage collection
*BTS Skytrain
*Good coffee
*Healthy, happy, furry dogs
*Walking
*A menu that consists of more than potato (done twenty ways) and steamed rice
*Bathrooms where the shower has its’ own borders (ie. doesn’t share the same floor as the rest of the room)
*Clean floors
*Toilets where you can flush paper down indiscriminately
*Text messages
*Free (clean) public bathrooms
*Cuddles
*Learning your own language better through learning someone else’s
*Cooking your own food
*Finding a patch of green in a city
*Grass
*Reminiscing
*Learning to appreciate where you are
*Getting mail packages
*Learning that a smile is worth a four month wait
*Reading the handwriting of a loved one
*Knowing that short skirts never go out of fashion
*Learning the quality of sighting a good cleavage
*Having health and fitness facilities at your disposal and being healthy and fit enough to use them
*Moving on
This wasn’t a bad thing really as although we had to get three bag searches and waited for three hours for the news (twice), the airline put us up in a schpinky five star hotel, paid for food, accommodation and transport, and then put us on a plane the next day (good thing we left a day between our connecting flight).
Despite the chaos and jeering from disgruntled passengers, we couldn’t help but laugh at the hilarity of the situation (maybe we could only laugh because we weren’t going to miss a connecting flight…). But the best thing about being delayed in Kathmandu was that it meant one less day to spend in Delhi.
When we arrived at Indira Gandhi International Airport, we migrated to the waiting lounge where we claimed our spot on three arm-rest-less seats and made ourselves as comfortable as possible for the night. We were lucky – some people only found a bit of ground, and the air of Delhi permeated even the internal areas. So through the thick haze of pollution and elevator-esque musak, we managed to find a few hours of sleep, interrupted only by flight announcements at three minute intervals. Sleeping in shifts of four hours each, we then prepared to board our flight.
John made his morning bathroom trip and found that the one that we had used all night was closed, and he had to resort to the ‘public’ bathroom. This reminded him once again why he desperately wanted to get out of India. After paying his 10 Rupee (30 cents) admission charge, he had to line up with forty other stinking men, who hoiked, spat, pushed and groin-rubbed their way to the beginning of the queue. Forty minutes later, it’s his turn. The toilet was blocked, the seat was covered in filth and the floor was swimming with excrement and rubbish. So, fleeing with a full bladder, we hurried through check-in, security search and immigration to the relative delights of a clean bathroom in the departure lounge. Phew!
There was much exaltation and sighs of massive relief as we finally left the ground. Handshakes all ‘round and congratulations at having survived (and then we touched wood because we realized that if the plane crashed, we were still over Indian soil).
Arriving at the new airport in Bangkok was nothing short of orgasmic. Like pious Christians (not that we are) arriving at the pearly gates of St Peter (not that it was) after a much mistaken tenure in hell (yeah, kinda), we were ushered politely and welcomingly with smiles and bows into a country we once thought was primitive. Oh how ignorant we were! The floors and walls were spotless and shiny; the construction sites were cordoned off; the Western toilets were clean, and paper was provided (on which Tiff commented that she smelt more than the facilities did); the helpers were helpful; the guards guarded; the workers worked; the cleaners cleaned and the taxi drivers used their meters… Wonders will never cease. And all the while people smiled and didn’t stare. It was good to be back.
We instantly felt dirty, under-dressed and like peasant folk in the big city, where hours ago we had felt clean, over-dressed and like kings touring the colonies. So yes, a huge lateral shift of perception.
We checked into a hotel, moved hotels the next day, revelled in large, clean, air-conditioned, modern shopping centres and planned our next SE Asian leg. Most importantly and first things first, John enjoyed beef. A huge, fast-food, beef burger. Not a happier man with a burger in his hand will you find (though subsequently he has also used this phrase in reference to pies, sticky rice, pizza, coffee and various other base culinary delights). Oh, and legs and short skirts. They too were in wonderful proliferation on the streets of Bangkok. What a joy to a hot-blooded male after such a drought – staring at the bare midriffs of fat middle-aged women in saris for four months. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just not the spice that puts the fire in this man’s belly. So viva la short skirts!
On the eve of our departure for Cambodia, the residual effects of John’s inadequate Indian medical treatment, and the culmination of three days of solid travel came to a head. He experienced massive cramping in his back and a relapse of the pain he experienced immediately after the accident. Basically he went back to square one (though without the immobility). So, the very next day the doctor sent our plans away, and ordered us not to travel (though this time it took very little to convince us). Covermore had sent us to the best of the best, five-star hotel-hospital in Bangkok. The Orthopaedic Surgeon referred John for immediate physical therapy (physio and other rehabilitation) and sentenced him to at least four weeks of treatment. *SIGH*.
But, it was the best thing that could possibly have happened as the treatment proved highly effective. The pain was on its way to being chronic and back immobility could have lasted many more months. Instead, we rejoiced that such little treatment could have such a profound effect, and cursed the Indian system for not prescribing similar treatment sooner. We also cursed John’s stubbornness to not bail from further travel earlier. Oh well, you live, you learn and you say der.
Taking advantage of our close proximity to five-star (comparatively cheap) medical treatment, Tiff was not to be outdone, and sought treatment for a residual shoulder injury sustained sometime during our Tonsai period (some suspect it was from playing too much pool/snooker [badly –John]). So, much to the amusement of medicos there, we were both attending physio sessions.
Our other time was spent packing, eating, researching our scary next leg in Japan, eating, learning Japanese, eating and Tiff running / John walking (and eating a big meal afterwards). So our second time in Thailand brought much more delight from culinary activities. We are not scared of street vendors anymore (after seeing the cleanliness of their stalls in stark contrast to India’s restaurants), although the food is still greasy it is incredibly tasty, and mealtimes are funtimes. We have come to the conclusion that India’s food is such a religious observance that all enjoyability seems to be sapped from the eating process, whereas here in Thailand, it is an any-time-of-day pastime and is done with vigour and gusto. The range of food is comprehensive, nothing is taboo to eat (although Buddhism says they are meant to be vegetarian), and the variations on a theme mean that even the most basic dish becomes extravagant. A re-discovery of the joy of eating has taken place, and our ever-increasing fat reserves are the proof.
We celebrated our birthdays with tailor-iced cakes and many candles, hugs, kisses and phone calls from home. Oh, and watching movies in Gold Class comfort. We’ve been watching a lot of movies here – affordable and with nothing much else to do. We’ve seen The Prestige (****), Flyboys (**), Monster House (a scary ***), Step Up (*), 007 Casino Royale (**** - haha it hadn’t even come out in Australia yet), Happy Feet (****) and The Banquet (**). Happy Feet is great – SEE IT for happy warm fuzzies.
So, we’re fat but we’re happy and collectively much healthier than we have been for a while. And eating ever-so cheaply. X-mas carols are being played in stores and trees and decorations are going up. What significance apart from commercial, Christmas has here we don’t know. But then, one could probably say the same for Australia. The smell of tinsel is making Tiff nostalgic (though John can’t even smell tinsel – yeah, he’s weird), and the Thai version of carols are just hilarious. We’ve had a room in a hotel pretty much in the centre of Bangkok and we love it. It’s big, it’s blue and it’s relatively cheap. It’s close to everything, has internet downstairs, and a beautiful Golden Retriever named Phet (Diamond) dog. But now it’s time to go.
Our sights are locked on Japan; the ultimate destination for our first nine months of travel. We will then have no tickets, no bookings and no destination for a good while. Even more scarily, we have to work, otherwise we are going to run out of money and have to come home. And everything is more expensive. We’re scared, anxious, excited, daunted but reassured by the fact that we have a few extraordinary friends helping us: Tomoko and David (Tomoko whom we met on our excursion to Pangong Lake in Leh, and her husband who we met in Kathmandu) and Dana (a uni friend of Tiff’s). It’s amazing how invaluable local knowledge is (as opposed to a guidebook).
Tiff has her first job interview ever. She hasn’t really ever had any interviews before. She’s either gotten jobs through contacts, in places where she was already known, or has been offered jobs. So it’s very exciting and she’s very nervous but John’s coaching her on etiquette (because he’s had more interviews than positions and can tell her what not to do).
He, on the other hand, isn’t wanted because he doesn’t have a degree: damn elitist bureaucrats (“…doesn’t mean I’m not edumacated though – I still speak English gooderer than most”).
So, a new culture, a new experience, a new life – for at least a little while. And our first Christmas away from home. And we’re looking forward to having a kitchen and cooking our own food.
Bits to End
Finest Moments #2:
*Scissors, paper rock-ing to a crowd of onlookers and drivers to decide which rickshaw driver to choose. They had no idea what we were doing but they laughed anyway.
*Dancing on sand dunes.
*Dancing in the snow.
*Waltzing (gingerly) in the hotel garden in Udaipur.
*Nearly falling off a camel.
*Falling off my (high) horse.
*Answering a taxi-driver’s ‘Rickshaw!’ with: “Yes it is! It is a rickshaw, and what a lovely rickshaw it is too! And this is a street pole, that is a cow, and I’m walking this way!”
*John ‘squawk’ing in the face of a street hassler, and watching his expression change from scared shitless to confusion to curiosity to annoyed scowl within a heart beat.
*Tiff being the hero of the moment and hitting the ‘stop’ button on an escalator at the airport (the only one in India), when an old woman got caught in the splits with one leg on the platform and one slowly traveling away from her.
*Snorkelling in the crystal clear waters of the Andaman Sea; coral and fish below, sun and smiles above.
*Making core sample suction holes with a straw in a jelly cup (and laughing manically).
*Pouring water on dry ice and marveling at the resultant smoke. Ooooooh, pretty.
*Playing scissors, paper, rock at Delhi airport just to pass time.
*Playing with a stupid KFC toy (strawberry pop-up girl) where you press strawberry-shaped buttons and a girl in the middle pops up randomly each time. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Yay!
*Missing cows in the street.
Ode to small things:
*Tom Kha Gai
*Beef
*5 baht (18 cent) pork skewers
*Sticky rice
*Taro buns
*Steamed BBQ pork buns
*Clean streets / garbage collection
*BTS Skytrain
*Good coffee
*Healthy, happy, furry dogs
*Walking
*A menu that consists of more than potato (done twenty ways) and steamed rice
*Bathrooms where the shower has its’ own borders (ie. doesn’t share the same floor as the rest of the room)
*Clean floors
*Toilets where you can flush paper down indiscriminately
*Text messages
*Free (clean) public bathrooms
*Cuddles
*Learning your own language better through learning someone else’s
*Cooking your own food
*Finding a patch of green in a city
*Grass
*Reminiscing
*Learning to appreciate where you are
*Getting mail packages
*Learning that a smile is worth a four month wait
*Reading the handwriting of a loved one
*Knowing that short skirts never go out of fashion
*Learning the quality of sighting a good cleavage
*Having health and fitness facilities at your disposal and being healthy and fit enough to use them
*Moving on
posted by Tiff and John @ 9:45 PM
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