Excuse me, waiter? There's a unicycle in my chicken...

For those of you who have been to Bangkok and revelled in it's insanity, you'll completely understand this story.To those of you who have not yet experienced the madness that Bangkok has to offer, allow me to enlighten you briefly and put this story into context so that it makes sense. Bangkok is insane. It is really one of the craziest places I have ever experienced. It has every kind of transport on the road that you can imagine. 1 wheel, 2 wheels, 3 wheels, sometimes 4. The people are crazy. And their pets are even crazier. Never before had I ever seen a dog wearing dungarees and booties and sunglasses. But that's just the sort of place this is. And if you stop and stare for too long, you will more than likely get hit by one of the afore mentioned modes of transport. So, to sum it up. It's crazy, and nothing is as simple as it seems.

Last week Kyle and I were invited to attend a collegue's birthday dinner at the "Flying chicken" restaurant. Thinking that the name was just another poorly translated title, we accepted. We arrived at this restaurant a little bit earlier than everybody else, as usual, and scoped the place out. It looked like quite a snazzy place...but only if you didn't count the poor soul on the karaoke stage producing some of the vilest notes I'd ever heard, with a dead pan expression on her soul less face. (I thought karaoke was supposed to be fun?!) On closer inspection of our surroundings, we noticed what looked like a stage with a couple of ramps on either end in the middle of the restaurant. There was a catapult at the one end. Quite a grand one too, I might add. It looked like something from an 18th century war museum. Still, we thought nothing of this, as Thai people are, at times, unbearably strange and inexplicable. 

We browsed the extensive menu at our leisure, making sure we drank lots of beer in the mean time. Kyle and I ordered the "fly chicken", a baby chicken, to share. Little did we know what became of ordering the "fly chicken".... As our food began arriving, a man made his way up to the podium and began ringing a bell. Obviously this attracted our attention away from the terrible vocals on the karaoke stage. That, and the man walking around making chicken noises into a microphone with a rubber chicken.

The man at the podium rang the bell like there was no tomorrow, at the same time loading what appeared to be a cooked chicken into the catapult...are we worried yet? What came next blew my mind. It seemed that the ringing bell attracted a teenager on a unicycle who came speeding up the ramp and up onto the podium (I repeat: on a unicycle.)He was dressed very strangely and his head gear consisted of a helmet with a large spike at the top of it. As the unicyclist got closer to the catapult, it was let off and the chicken went flying through the air...and landed straight on this kid's head!!!!! I could not believe my eyes!!! Was this why it was called "fly chicken"? I believe so! More! We wanted more!! Somewhat of a spectacle followed this mad chicken flying act: this young boy continued to do tricks on his unicycle, going up and down the ramp and jumping from beam to beam like something out of Takeshi's castle. He also showed off some more of his catching skills by catching an array of items, flying from the catapult, on his head. He started big, obviously with the flying chicken, and continued to get smaller until he was literally catching what looked like a single grape on the spoke on his head. It was unreal. Such talent. Well, until he had to catch our chicken. That didn't fly too well. He missed and our chicken lay shattered on the floor. We then had to wait while they quickly cooked up another one and gave it another go. It was ok, at least there was some decent entertainment going on. The chicken was delicious, by the way.

The fact that this restaurant is clearly run by a lunatic is not the point, the point is that, at some stage, someone created this restaurant. It's been running for 27 years. That means that there has been a fair share of madmen riding up that ramp and catching those flying chickens. At some stage, someone thought to themself: "I am going to open a restaurant. It will serve every type of Thai food you can imagine. But I need a gimmick...hmmm....What shall it be? I know! I have a friend in the circus who can ride a unicycle who can catch things on his head! Perhaps I can train him to catch chickens on his head! And I have another friend who fought in the Roman war who is particularly handy with a catapult, so he shall be hired too! My restaurant will serve flying chickens caught by a daredevil! It will be amazing! And I will throw in a karaoke bar to ensure that all Asian people come to my fine restaurant." I can only assume that this is the way that this restaurant came about.

It was fun. And bizarre. And I chomped on a frog leg that was rather delicious yet quite bony. You should go there.Apparently they give patrons a chance to try their luck up on the podium, I didn't go though, I can't ride a unicycle. Or catch flying chickens on my head, for that matter.
I've been informed that there are a number of wierd and wonderful restaurants in the area, including one with waiters wearing traditional Chinese dress and roller blades. And a robot restaurant. I think I'll go there. Watch this space.

The Hangover.

Yesterday I awoke to a hangover that can only be described as a head splitting catastrophe. I was paralysed with fear. Fear of sitting up, in case my head actually fell off my shoulders and rolled onto the floor. Eventually my eyes managed to crack open and I could take in the scene that surrounded me. Where the hell was I? And why was there Thai money scattered all over the bed?  And why was there a bin next to me filled with a water gun, a full beer and a little bit of vomit? Was it my vomit? And why was there incredibly offensive "pop" music blasting into my ears at 10am? And why was I covered in what looked like a dry cement mix? And why, I asked myself upon closer inspection of my habitat, was I sleeping in what looked like a crack den where hobo's and injured animals go to die?

My head was going to explode and I had no idea where I was or why I was dying. So I did what any normal person with a hangover does: scream bloody murder and then go back to sleep. When I awoke for the second time, I reached for my camera (which had nestled itself in my neck) and began, with horror, to piece together the events of the previous night. 

It was all coming back to me. Kyle and I had decided to go and stay in Khao San rd, Bangkok's infamous backpacker paradise, for Songkran. Songkran is the Thai New Year festival. It is basically a massive water fight and street party that lasts for 3 days, otherwise known as the single most amazing experience of my life. We checked into Khao San Rainbow "hotel", if you can call it that, at about 5pm. Our "room" consisted of a soiled bed that was too big for the minute room where in which it was placed (or, simply, the room was too small), some kind of scent that we could not quite put our finger on, an unusual stain next to the bed, and a toilet that served as a toilet, basin and shower all at once. Don't ask. I can't explain. Our room was also conveniently placed right outside the most God awful karaoke bar that somehow was given the licence by some idiot to operate for 24 hours a day. So lovely. All of these factors appear to be the reason why we got so hideously drunk, obviously so that we could sleep in our room in peace with no worries of being stolen in the middle of the night and being sold to a company where there are many beds with unusual stains beside them...

Khao San road: the beginning of the end.

To avoid any contamination, we hastily unpacked and left. Armed with water guns, a pre made whisky mix and a very fashionable waterproof satchel, we made our way to join the festivities in Khao San rd. It was incredible. Such an amazing event: kids, adults, tweens and drunk tourists alike, all joining in the water fight and the carefree vibe. I saw things that I can't even begin to describe. Such as a troupe of lady boys performing a choreographed dance in the street whilst pouring water all over themselves. It honestly wasn't very different from Geri Halliwell's "It's raining men" music video. Except that Geri Halliwell is far less attractive when in the rain. 

You get the picture

The rest of the weekend is a blur of cocktail buckets, water fights and Indian food. Not to mention cockroaches and unidentifiable smells and stains. Dried vomit, it was, we discovered. The unusual stain I spoke of. We discovered this at the end of the weekend when Kyle fell asleep on the floor with his face way too close to the stain. Nice place. I strongly recommend you never go there. The hangover though. Phwoar. That was spectacular. Never in my life have I been so severely crippled and outplayed by such a demonic blend of whisky. Well played Bangkok, well played.

Why we're here

Just over a month ago my boyfriend and I landed in Bangkok, Thailand. I was so afraid that somewhere along the flight somebody would stuff my bag full of drugs and various other paraphernalia and I would be taken to some God awful prison where I would have to swap my bra's in exchange for cigarettes and sing really bad renditions of "Like a virgin". Thank God the airport was fairly uneventful, the whole time we were there I was waiting for sniffer dogs to come and sniff out my crotch and alert the police that I had drugs up there. Although I'm not sure how someone would manage to get them there without my knowledge...although I was knocked out for a good 6 hours thanks to these horrid sleeping pills that I took..anything could've happened then?!?! It obviously didn't though. Because we got out of the airport without any drama.

As soon as we stepped out of the airport we were hit with the kind of heat that you can actually see. The kind of heat that blurs your vision and gives you diarrhoea. Our senses were also assaulted by all the people lighting up right outside the airport doors, standing next to all the non-smoking signs...this was something we were not quite used to, coming from New Zealand where the air is so clean and nutritious that you could actually live off a diet of air alone. We got into a taxi and gave him our friend's address. Problem 1: He had absolutely no idea what we were saying. Problem 2: He had absolutely no idea where this address was. Problem 3: He just started driving blindly, then stopped in the middle of the highway to make a phone call to find out where it was. Problem 4: There was a shit load of traffic. And it was 9:30pm. Problem 5: We thought we were going to die. Eventually we arrived, God knows how. After having aged about 25 years thanks to the taxi ride, we finally settled in. Little did I know that this experience was to confirm that this is the life in Bangkok. Taxi drivers that don't know how to drive/ know where anything is; a little bit of a language barrier; and a city so polluted that our skin would eventually develop a hard outer cuticle to protect us from damage.

Why? You ask. Why did we decide to move to a country where we cannot speak or read the language; where you have to throw your toilet paper in a bin after wiping your arse; where nobody understands you and everybody laughs at you whenever you do anything; where you have constant diarrhoea; where our neighbour drills holes in the wall at 2 am in the morning; where it's so fucking hot that you can't breathe and all your clothes are sweat stained in every single crease; where you constantly have to dodge excrement in the streets; where you have to walk really carefully around street dogs and avoid all eye contact so as not to become their lunch; where you thank God every time you get out of a taxi and you have somehow managed to survive the hellish ordeal; where you eat things which we think is something delicious but it turns out to be something not very delicious at all, like an organ of some sort; where I am absolutely clueless in the job I am supposed to be doing and should definitely not, under no circumstances be teaching morals to a bunch of very impressionable 5 and 6 year olds? WHY?

I will tell you why. Because each and every day here is an adventure. Because in certain aspects of this very dirty, overcrowded city, there are moments filled with such beauty that it gives you a lump in your throat. Because everyday I stop what I'm doing and think to myself, "Look where you are, look how far you have come". Because the food is so delicious and is so worth shitting my guts out on a regular basis. Because the taxi drivers love it when you try speak Thai to them, and I have realised that they don't have a death wish either, and so they're gonna try their hardest not to get in an accident. Because there is something new and different to do every single day. Because the culture is so rich and we have so much to learn. Because we have aircon. Because the Thai people are lovely and beautiful and happy. Because, although you're in a crazy city, you can walk around the corner and discover the most beautiful and tranquil temple. Because we want to be outside of our comfort zone. Because 5 and 6 year old Thai kids are unbelievably cute and clever. Because we want to be here, and we want to learn, and we want to experience something different that is going to change us every day. That is why we are here.