Bangkok adventures...

When I first arrived in Bangkok seven years ago I remember all too well how my nose scrunched up, how the head ached with the constant visual bombardment and what shade of black I had painted over Thailand's hub. First impressions can sometimes be tainted when you don't give something time. And time is what I needed to see this city for what it really is, a tooth-grinning, cultured, peaceful, old-world-meets-new-world explosion of sun lit energy. (Granted there is night time here to - obviously - but when the weather is still thirty degrees all you have to do is close your eyes and imagine the sun.)

I was extremely fortunate enough to be bestowed with the grace of some fabulous hosts; one in particular, who has shown me the beauty and culinary delights of the city's finest.

One place in particular which caught my eye and my sense of humor was a restaurant, club and bar called Bed. This place has the je ne sais quoi unlike any other place in Thailand. The interior in one room is all white and furnished so that you can eat dinner in bed, while your eyes feast on artistic expressions of food and live performance. This always brings a wry smile to my lips, imagine saying to your friend or a new business acquaintance, you want to go to Bed with me tonight, or you want to eat dinner in Bed? Genius. And after content bellies the restaurant converts into a club so you can dance it off or you can wander over to the next room where the bar often displays live acts. Nothing but sheer fun.

Bed

One live performance which I enjoyed thoroughly was Norman Jay and the Cuban Bros. This outfit of two middle aged Cubans and a Japanese guy had brilliant showman ship: good beats, awesome singing, tight dancing, hilarious injections, strong connection with the audience, (which went almost to the groin of some innocent hands) outrageous costumes, fat hairy bellies, dirty innuendos, more dirty innuendos and finally, to top it all off - a strip tease. If you can visualize a rather large protruding belly over tiny red, white and blue jocks with knee length socks, bright yellow shoes and a 1940's style hat than you've got the image burned into my retinas.

It's always the people that make a place feel like a home and well for the couple of weeks that I've spent here, I'm already snuggling into a comfortable little nest of happy faces.
I highly recommend you stop over and check out some of Bangkok's treasures.

Until next time...

Keep it real.

A six legged flashbacks from the past...

My last two weeks in Laos took me and my childhood arch nemesis north to Muang Ngoi, a little village surrounded by other little villagers. Who or what was this childhood arch nemesis, you say? What noun dares rival this story more than the beautiful green, limestone mountains, the simple laughing village children and the cushioned hammock of eternal sloth?
Ants. Ants were my childhood nemesis for reasons that can only be whispered because of the fear that wraps itself around me and sets: strangulation mode. From a five year old perspective I couldn't quite articulate the reasons why I dreaded these 'apparently' innocent insects. Well now I have it. They are all cloned workers working tirelessly, under order of the Queen without so much as a day off or an antenna massage. And not only are there billions upon billions of them but with one ants communication to its posse of where the goods are they are able to invade any sized space and take it over if they so wished it.
There were so many varieties that could be with you on every occasion. There was the regular black household-sized ant that is so commonly seen on the kitchen bench in Australia, the bull-ant minus the pincers, a red ant that really wants to be the size of a bull-ant but doesn't cut it size wise and the worst one of all (a new one for me) the tiniest ant that you could ever imagine before it got down to needing a microscope. This one in particular in Laos crawled into every visual platform that one could spy: computer, bed, clothes, books, dinner plate - every big thing, those little darn devils were there.
I'm not sure if it was the sheets of rain that ushered them inside or the pressure cooker sun roasting every tourist that had them actively sourcing me, but I have lost count in my killing spree.
I will now that I am leaving for Bangkok to obtain my visa for India, recover and attempt to write you more memorable stories that will darn your heart into a pair of baby pink socks.
For now though....

Keep smiling and jiving!

xxx