It strikes me how some of the nicest things in life are not only for free, but they hit you in the arse when least expected; like a 2000mph piano would on a "Dead Like Me" character (that was a toilet, tho'. Wasn't it?)
It so happened that I got 2 know (a little better) yet another wonderfully-baffling gal right at the end of the TEFL thing. It always goes that way with me; feeling like I've seen it all and then BOOM, there it is and then PUFF it's long gone and lost forever. I'm an expert at finding and evaporating kindred spirits, it's kinda like my THANG, yo!.
Anyway, this is my attempt of putting into incoherent words another slice of that cheesecake of what absolutely did not happen then and there, a little more or less than a month ago. Back to Ban Phe it is!
------------------------------------------------------
So I was bouncing from wire to wire like I usually do on Sunday evenings...
That's a lie. It was the first time I did that wire-dancing thing. I'm never allowed out of my cage unless... nothing! 'coz I'm never allowed out at all. But this time the Gods smiled at me, for the old lady fell asleep in her old rocking chair for quite a long time... and started creaking. And so my cheeks blushed hot red for the excitement revolving 'round an opportunity I had dreamed about for as long as I've been a critter, (which I'm not, coz I'm just a tiny yellow little freakin' canary). Nevertheless: I COULD FINALLY ESCAPE!.
So I sucked all the air I had in my little feathery chest and I "plupped!" my way out of 'em golden bars. And there I was: free to soar like those other birds I usually watch from my window.
Fuckers.
Anyway, I bounced away on the wires as if playing the cello with my very orangy feet, celebrating my victorious-machiavellic getaway with euphoric little pricklings of the rubber that covers those electric strings of death; or so I've learned thanks to the endless afternoon sessions of watching the Discovery Channel with the "prune":
-And that's why I never let you out, my dear! You'd die on those wires, like a roasted chicken!-
I hate that idiotic TV room, I'd much rather have a white wall to stare at for the rest of my days. Well not really. I'd prefer to live on an awesomely bushy canopy, from a bird's-foot trefoil. That'd be pretty damn sweet!
As I whistled away from branch to branch, surfing board to surfing board, and bald headedness to bald headedness, I tried eating strips of clouds but failed (at least they don't taste like those seeds I'm forced to chew up on. I mean; would it kill to have some cashew nuts or banana muffin crumbs once in a while? Gosh!). BUT THEN I caught a glimpse of something that struck me as odd.
A flickering light peeped, oh so invitingly, right out of a door slot on the left of a sign that read "Fern's Bar". A bar... wonder what that is. I don't even know how I was able to read that, being a bird and all... hmmm strange.
I approached, madly driven by the shiny intermittence of sporadic little twinkles... I go crazy for anything that rhymes with "light", and "bright" does! heeeeeee... (drools).
As I opened up my beak to swallow the fancy glimmering ray of whateverness, I was suddenly plunked (literally) by something that would certainly fit in the category of the unexpected. Certainly so.
SMACK!!!!!
-Oi! leave that thing alone! It's mine!- Some creature cried out to me, after having rudely hit my head with what I now realised was a very splintery chop stick.
-What the f...eather was that all about? I mean, there have got to be better ways of calling one's attention, you know- I said as I rubbed my forehead with one wing, and drew away any signs of teary leftovers on my face with the other.
-Crikey! I'm sorry, I did not realise a chop stick could be as deadly! Merked you dead good didn't I? You mardy.mardarse.mard. Thought you were going for my dinner- Was what I got for an answer.
-No! Ouch! Congrats, I guess- I replied, continuing the rubbing of the damaged area.
-Well, what a way to introduce oneself, I'd say, mighty fine! My name's &%$&#% by the way. What's yours?-
(&%$&#% is my textual translation of a sound that no human can interpret, known and understood only by flying beings).
As my eyes recovered focus I finally could see with whom I was sharing the strangest conversation: she was a deep blue and green coloured parrot with a burning red-orange beak. Quite stunning for a bird that's not necessarily a peacock.
- Well &%$&#%, it's nice and weird to meet you. I dunno my name, but She calls me Sandy. By "she" I mean the lady that has me for a pet trapped inside a golden cage. And feeds me shit at it- I listened to myself word out, resentfully.
-Feeds you shit? I eat anything I want. The owner (that man over there that looks kind of Russian) gives me anything going from a Veggie Kebab to a Strawberry-Hazelnut tart. I only need to look pretty standing here in my very own corner, and learn some human words from time to time. When I learn enough phrases I can go about teaching others like myself, maybe in other bars or in other beaches... depending on the weather-
Her eyes gleamed against the remnants of sunlight while she gave me this snippet version of her Bio. I was amused, but my head stung still, so I took ages in finding a suitable response.
-Well, lucky you! I just managed to get some air out of that house-arrest anti-home I've been living my whole life in and already I've experienced a near death encounter. With a chopstick! Gee it's been a ball, but I probably should get going in a few minutes anyways; my owner ought to wake up any minute now and she better find me there when that happens.- I said, and began to walk away.
-Wait! That's it? You're gonna return to your hell-hole life just like that? What about chance and destiny and the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and being free? You're a disappointment to your species! Go on then, I don't give a darn. Ta ta!- She spat at me (not literally tho') with a sarcastic tone.
So that's how I found myself in the bellybutton of one of those crossroad-chic flick movie scenes where you have to decide whether or not you should be a chicken (HA!), and return home OR be a bad ass canary with enough free will on your yellow plumage to take a leap of faith into the unknown.
But then I noticed something strange on her feet; they were tied up with some sort of discreet yet perceivable string with little bells attached on each end.
-What's that for?- I asked, raising an eyebrow.
-Oh! Never mind that... it's just for precaution. I tend to fancy flying away every so often, and the owner does not like it. He says I should stay with him and learn drunken words to entertain the world.- Her expression darkened after explaining this to me.
I got closer, laid a wing on her shoulder and bit the string until it snapped. I tied what was left on my own leg, and stepped away with what was now a new tinkling bracelet.
-It's not gonna be like this forever, you know? Some of us need to figure out what kinds of chirps n' chants we'd like to sing to the moon before the night blanket falls and covers the Earth. We are but a blink of the sun, yet our eyelash battings will get to brush over a million sunrises and another million sunsets or so. I'm awful thankful for our little encounter. Perhaps we'll run into each other some other time, or perhaps not. Let us see with our eyes closed and our faces to the skies.-
I don't know how I got so fucking poetic out of the blue. But I took flight right away and left the parrot to her own turbulent thoughts... I think I heard her yell something like:
"Alis volat propiis!" But then again, she might have just burped a little.
I have a strong feeling we shall meet again.
miércoles, febrero 24, 2010
martes, febrero 16, 2010
The turquoise necklace, and a heavy hearted hedgehog
Anamnesis... I rode my bike today. Woke up in this random bed with a random person next to me (that I soon recognized to be Mayra, my animation class teammate), doodled my way into the shower, got some pants on and toothpaste in my mouth, spat, and drove away above the wistful shades of the familiar trees that decorate my daily pathway to Uni in Xochimilco, Mexico City.
The Postal Service lulled my direction as the tires enveloped the perimeter of the gray streets (Iphone was on and kicking), right there and then I plunged into the sea of memories that give meaning to the soundtrack of my life.
I was 6 years old and could not find my brother. There was only his purple hat to be seen lying motionless on top of a very peculiar heap of snow... then I heard his voice. Inside it.-------------------------------
Anyways, I pushed that bubble away as I passed over a bumpy part of the road, and landed on another thought; a slightly more recent one. I find it curious how these two, like the rest of my memories, have the same visual quality in my mind (HD) no matter how long it's been since they happened. I've a hard time remembering dates, names, faces or numbers (especially birthdays) but BOY can I remember SCENES, and savour them-songs and conversations like Grenouille did with smells.
----------------------------------------------------
Lester was the most silent of the clan. He usually just sneaked (or "snuck" if you prefer) out of our highly uncomfortably-tensed conversations (regarding religious differences amongst Arabs and stupid Texans) just to smoke, and he did some more smoking after that, and then smoked way more as a dessert for the previous smokings.
It was as if he'd chosen to sublime himself away from reality and hence had managed to evaporate completely into a state of absolute peace. I was scared he'd spontaneously combust or some random shit. He looked as though he had chili peppers down his pants, but at the same time he was so chilled it drove me nuts. Jittery-calmed bastErd.
I knew right away there was something more to him underneath the cloud of fuming gases that surrounded his persona in place of a shadow. I was bound to meet the red dragon on his back.
I made him this story:
------------------------------
And so I came to find this rather bucolic character that made me think of one of the stories dad used to read to me and my brother right after tucking us in our comfiest beddy-bed: "The Mock Turtle". This other creature was cute, and small, and had spiny/pointy things covering the whole of his body except for the belly and the face, and the paw-hands of course. And the feet!
I was looking for my shell underneath the old oak tree and had found this hedgehog staring at his feet instead. I asked him:
-Hi there! What's the matter? If you fix your eyes that hard upon whatever, then you're bound to grow some roots outta them! Joe told me so- I said, trying to look as though I knew exactly what I meant by that.
-Oh, hello. Well it so happens that I've forgotten the... hmm I've forgotten again. I think I'm going to sit here for a while and burn little twigs. The smell eases my mind- Answered he, with a slightly melancholic tone to it.
I was confused, but I decided to push the chit-chat a little further to see what else I could find about this amusing being I'd just chanced upon. Hedgehogs can be as cuddly as they can be piercing, depending on how much rice with eggs they've eaten that day, so I've been told. This one looked pretty full.
-So, what's your name?- I muttered, again.
-I don't remember. You see, I drank this tree's milk an old owl gave me so that I could erase all my memories.- He took a long time to think each word before saying the whole thing out loud. But I was very interested at that point.
-Right. So, how can you remember you ever did that?- I asked, rubbing my chin as grownups do when thinking real hard.
-I wrote a note to myself on my feet with Indian ink. See?-
I read the note on his feet; it explained what he had just said. So I believed him. And the letters were pretty.
-Yikes! Well... I get it. But I cannot imagine what it would be like to forget everything! I love remembering... like that one time I was supposed to fill a WHOLE basket with strawberries we were picking from the backyard so that mum could make jelly. But me and Joe ate every single one before we'd made it back to the cottage. I took the blame and was grounded and wasn't allowed to eat sweets for a week.- I said, proud of my brief anecdote.
-That's quite a nasty memory! Wouldn't you rather not have it at all?- Replied the hedgehog, pushing the dirt with a burnt stick.
-Dunno, maybe you're right! But how am I supposed to learn from my mistakes if I do not remember them?- I added, promptly.
-That's a good question, but I cannot seem to provide you with the right answer for it.- He said as he looked away.
-Maybe I can help you remember.- I suggested, smiling.
-No! Then it would all have been pointless... HERE little one.- He stood up and handed me a notebook made out of green leaves and adobe. -I grant you the permission to read through my written memories. But you have to promise not to tell me anything about it after you finish, I'm never to go through the contents of those pages ever again. Swear you won't tell.-
I swore with my hand on my heart and meant it truly. I then read the pages carefully, and after closing the notebook I felt like the saddest girl in the world.
I soon realized I was crying without wanting to, but I sneezed and turned to clean my face discreetly with the red tissue Gran gave me when I left home.
I didn't know what to do or say or not do or not say, so I did nothing for a while. We just sat there, looking at the fallen pieces of bark the oak tree had scattered after changing skins. We listened to each others' recycling of air.
Then the hedgehog lit up another twig, and I watched him puff it slowly. I broke the silence with another question.
-And what do you do nowadays to feel good?- I said, and waited for an answer.
-Well, I've been taking good care of this little dandelion ever since it grew out from the ground.- He showed me the flower.- That was before I lost my memory. He whispers new things from time to time, you know? And I listen... He told me once that I had fallen in love with a beautiful cloud but she was blown away to China. That's where, my dandelion tells me, all clouds are sent by the winds whenever they are covetted by earthly creatures like myself. I will forget about this anyway.- He stopped.
-Well, clouds do tend to change spots all the time, sometimes without even wanting to. Guess it's way better to love something that shares the same ground as you do. Don't you agree?- I said, not really thinking about what I was saying but most likely just feeling it out.
-Right, like my dandelion.- The hedgehog softly replied.
-Like that, yes.- I added, glad to know we were coming to an agreement.
-Maybe someday, when he's old enough I can blow his seeds so they can fly and chase clouds like I supposedly once did. Maybe he can finally learn how to catch one, maybe even a star!- He said as a spoken sigh.
-Yeah, maybe he will.-
I took off right after the sun went down to sleep because it was too late for a little girl like me to be wandering off without supervision.
From that day on, every time I come across one of those spiky-soft flowers I think of how valuable it is to keep track of the all the different kinds of individuals you randomly meet. Most have stories like these; the ones that make your insides want to grow out of your body like branches of an oak tree.
Sometimes I too want to catch a cloud of my own.
The Postal Service lulled my direction as the tires enveloped the perimeter of the gray streets (Iphone was on and kicking), right there and then I plunged into the sea of memories that give meaning to the soundtrack of my life.
I was 6 years old and could not find my brother. There was only his purple hat to be seen lying motionless on top of a very peculiar heap of snow... then I heard his voice. Inside it.-------------------------------
Anyways, I pushed that bubble away as I passed over a bumpy part of the road, and landed on another thought; a slightly more recent one. I find it curious how these two, like the rest of my memories, have the same visual quality in my mind (HD) no matter how long it's been since they happened. I've a hard time remembering dates, names, faces or numbers (especially birthdays) but BOY can I remember SCENES, and savour them-songs and conversations like Grenouille did with smells.
----------------------------------------------------
Lester was the most silent of the clan. He usually just sneaked (or "snuck" if you prefer) out of our highly uncomfortably-tensed conversations (regarding religious differences amongst Arabs and stupid Texans) just to smoke, and he did some more smoking after that, and then smoked way more as a dessert for the previous smokings.
It was as if he'd chosen to sublime himself away from reality and hence had managed to evaporate completely into a state of absolute peace. I was scared he'd spontaneously combust or some random shit. He looked as though he had chili peppers down his pants, but at the same time he was so chilled it drove me nuts. Jittery-calmed bastErd.
I knew right away there was something more to him underneath the cloud of fuming gases that surrounded his persona in place of a shadow. I was bound to meet the red dragon on his back.
I made him this story:
------------------------------
And so I came to find this rather bucolic character that made me think of one of the stories dad used to read to me and my brother right after tucking us in our comfiest beddy-bed: "The Mock Turtle". This other creature was cute, and small, and had spiny/pointy things covering the whole of his body except for the belly and the face, and the paw-hands of course. And the feet!
I was looking for my shell underneath the old oak tree and had found this hedgehog staring at his feet instead. I asked him:
-Hi there! What's the matter? If you fix your eyes that hard upon whatever, then you're bound to grow some roots outta them! Joe told me so- I said, trying to look as though I knew exactly what I meant by that.
-Oh, hello. Well it so happens that I've forgotten the... hmm I've forgotten again. I think I'm going to sit here for a while and burn little twigs. The smell eases my mind- Answered he, with a slightly melancholic tone to it.
I was confused, but I decided to push the chit-chat a little further to see what else I could find about this amusing being I'd just chanced upon. Hedgehogs can be as cuddly as they can be piercing, depending on how much rice with eggs they've eaten that day, so I've been told. This one looked pretty full.
-So, what's your name?- I muttered, again.
-I don't remember. You see, I drank this tree's milk an old owl gave me so that I could erase all my memories.- He took a long time to think each word before saying the whole thing out loud. But I was very interested at that point.
-Right. So, how can you remember you ever did that?- I asked, rubbing my chin as grownups do when thinking real hard.
-I wrote a note to myself on my feet with Indian ink. See?-
I read the note on his feet; it explained what he had just said. So I believed him. And the letters were pretty.
-Yikes! Well... I get it. But I cannot imagine what it would be like to forget everything! I love remembering... like that one time I was supposed to fill a WHOLE basket with strawberries we were picking from the backyard so that mum could make jelly. But me and Joe ate every single one before we'd made it back to the cottage. I took the blame and was grounded and wasn't allowed to eat sweets for a week.- I said, proud of my brief anecdote.
-That's quite a nasty memory! Wouldn't you rather not have it at all?- Replied the hedgehog, pushing the dirt with a burnt stick.
-Dunno, maybe you're right! But how am I supposed to learn from my mistakes if I do not remember them?- I added, promptly.
-That's a good question, but I cannot seem to provide you with the right answer for it.- He said as he looked away.
-Maybe I can help you remember.- I suggested, smiling.
-No! Then it would all have been pointless... HERE little one.- He stood up and handed me a notebook made out of green leaves and adobe. -I grant you the permission to read through my written memories. But you have to promise not to tell me anything about it after you finish, I'm never to go through the contents of those pages ever again. Swear you won't tell.-
I swore with my hand on my heart and meant it truly. I then read the pages carefully, and after closing the notebook I felt like the saddest girl in the world.
I soon realized I was crying without wanting to, but I sneezed and turned to clean my face discreetly with the red tissue Gran gave me when I left home.
I didn't know what to do or say or not do or not say, so I did nothing for a while. We just sat there, looking at the fallen pieces of bark the oak tree had scattered after changing skins. We listened to each others' recycling of air.
Then the hedgehog lit up another twig, and I watched him puff it slowly. I broke the silence with another question.
-And what do you do nowadays to feel good?- I said, and waited for an answer.
-Well, I've been taking good care of this little dandelion ever since it grew out from the ground.- He showed me the flower.- That was before I lost my memory. He whispers new things from time to time, you know? And I listen... He told me once that I had fallen in love with a beautiful cloud but she was blown away to China. That's where, my dandelion tells me, all clouds are sent by the winds whenever they are covetted by earthly creatures like myself. I will forget about this anyway.- He stopped.
-Well, clouds do tend to change spots all the time, sometimes without even wanting to. Guess it's way better to love something that shares the same ground as you do. Don't you agree?- I said, not really thinking about what I was saying but most likely just feeling it out.
-Right, like my dandelion.- The hedgehog softly replied.
-Like that, yes.- I added, glad to know we were coming to an agreement.
-Maybe someday, when he's old enough I can blow his seeds so they can fly and chase clouds like I supposedly once did. Maybe he can finally learn how to catch one, maybe even a star!- He said as a spoken sigh.
-Yeah, maybe he will.-
I took off right after the sun went down to sleep because it was too late for a little girl like me to be wandering off without supervision.
From that day on, every time I come across one of those spiky-soft flowers I think of how valuable it is to keep track of the all the different kinds of individuals you randomly meet. Most have stories like these; the ones that make your insides want to grow out of your body like branches of an oak tree.
Sometimes I too want to catch a cloud of my own.
domingo, febrero 14, 2010
For Lina (and Amir)
There once was a Lioness who had everything she could ever dream of. She drank cloud tasting gum drops, slept on golden sheets sowed by precious little elves from the mountains, and could get any type of alcoholic beverage at the snap of her fingers... she even had her own island near Fiji, and her own shopping mall.
Oh! the parties she had. Oh! the endless fun in the land of the plentiful.
Little did she know, for she was to meet a kaleidoscopic dragonfly that came from a far away place known as the British Isles (why not?); she hesitated for exactly two seconds, but then decided to chase after it, senselessly drawn by the pretty pretty colours on its wings... They were soooo very pretty indeed.
So the Lioness and the dragonfly jumped over ponds of marshmallow lillies and ran thru forests of cherry pies and jelly beans holding hands (well paw and wing, sort of, you know); not caring about anything but the togertherness of the idea of being together (???). They were in a state of pure joy and joyness, even better than going to candy mountain with Charlie the Unicorn.
However! one day she discovered they had walked for so long she did not recognize any of her surroundings anymore... Her mother had told her never to cross the yellow sign that said "Lioness, do not cross this yellow sign". She had crossed it, obviously. Blinded by the pure excitement of chasing a brightly brittle bug that she had now come to love, and she was loved back as well.
But then she looked around and sneered distastefully at the dirty looking scenery... she was miles away from home, and this new place looked like it could use some Windex. But then again she also wanted to live with this dragonfly and bask in the sunlight for every single day from that moment on. She was free for the first time in her life, and would not give that feeling away for all the mountain elves in the world (there aren't many nowadays, you know).
She was puzzled indeed... What was she to do?
Then, all of a sudden this huge Elephant appeared out of the blue (and yellow), and shared a bucket full of a strange smelling liquor with her. They used different straws of course.
The elephant came from a jungle that interestingly enough was adjacent to her own kingdom. So they babbled away drinking and crying like old Texan friends on rocking chairs out on the porch. Soon the Lioness learned of the elephant's misfortunes; he too was a king who had lost his way searching for better and better tasting grass... when he raised his head to look at the Sun he realized he was utterly and totally lost. He wept for his two children back home, who were named basically the same but in different wording.
They drank heaps and heaps of buckets that they refilled with their own tears and ocean water and booze until their bellies were so full they could not look at each other in the face any longer.
That's when the Lioness had an epiphany...
I don't remember the rest of the story, but I know the Lioness lived happily ever after, and got married, and had children that spoke better Spanish than she did. And she looked beautiful because she was truly happy, all thanks to her persevering sense of truth. Oh! and also because of some Mexican squirrel she met on the way that convinced her to try harder and keep on smiling no matter the pickle... that as well.
THE END
Oh! the parties she had. Oh! the endless fun in the land of the plentiful.
Little did she know, for she was to meet a kaleidoscopic dragonfly that came from a far away place known as the British Isles (why not?); she hesitated for exactly two seconds, but then decided to chase after it, senselessly drawn by the pretty pretty colours on its wings... They were soooo very pretty indeed.
So the Lioness and the dragonfly jumped over ponds of marshmallow lillies and ran thru forests of cherry pies and jelly beans holding hands (well paw and wing, sort of, you know); not caring about anything but the togertherness of the idea of being together (???). They were in a state of pure joy and joyness, even better than going to candy mountain with Charlie the Unicorn.
However! one day she discovered they had walked for so long she did not recognize any of her surroundings anymore... Her mother had told her never to cross the yellow sign that said "Lioness, do not cross this yellow sign". She had crossed it, obviously. Blinded by the pure excitement of chasing a brightly brittle bug that she had now come to love, and she was loved back as well.
But then she looked around and sneered distastefully at the dirty looking scenery... she was miles away from home, and this new place looked like it could use some Windex. But then again she also wanted to live with this dragonfly and bask in the sunlight for every single day from that moment on. She was free for the first time in her life, and would not give that feeling away for all the mountain elves in the world (there aren't many nowadays, you know).
She was puzzled indeed... What was she to do?
Then, all of a sudden this huge Elephant appeared out of the blue (and yellow), and shared a bucket full of a strange smelling liquor with her. They used different straws of course.
The elephant came from a jungle that interestingly enough was adjacent to her own kingdom. So they babbled away drinking and crying like old Texan friends on rocking chairs out on the porch. Soon the Lioness learned of the elephant's misfortunes; he too was a king who had lost his way searching for better and better tasting grass... when he raised his head to look at the Sun he realized he was utterly and totally lost. He wept for his two children back home, who were named basically the same but in different wording.
They drank heaps and heaps of buckets that they refilled with their own tears and ocean water and booze until their bellies were so full they could not look at each other in the face any longer.
That's when the Lioness had an epiphany...
I don't remember the rest of the story, but I know the Lioness lived happily ever after, and got married, and had children that spoke better Spanish than she did. And she looked beautiful because she was truly happy, all thanks to her persevering sense of truth. Oh! and also because of some Mexican squirrel she met on the way that convinced her to try harder and keep on smiling no matter the pickle... that as well.
THE END
jueves, febrero 11, 2010
A silver fish for an anchored necklace
THE END.
Here I am, decomposing and restructuring chaotic feelings that "vulture" mercilessly round and round my confused little scalp... it's as if the whole trip was dreamt and nothing more; it's Asia no more.
I've two friends in the hospital, a huge animation project due next week and a sudden feel for french vanilla tea (since I can't seem to muster enough sleep I've had to come up with an alternative to coffee), that and cheese.
Oh! and all of a sudden I realize I'm way more hyperactive whenever speaking English than I am in any other language. I pity those who can't speak "Mexican" then: they get the most pungent side of me. Jumpy Xalli.
Funny, when I look at the postcards I bought at the very shabby looking shop in Koh Samet (where the lady was quite nasty indeed) I suddenly become swallowed by a torrent of flashbacks that pixelate(sic) the 4 walls of this studio into a somewhat befuddled composition of greens and yellows. And so I'm driven back to the old Thai pueblo:
"See you at 7 downstairs in the guesthouse"
This is how our good friend Amir bade us farewell every single day at 5 o'clock, right after wrapping up our heavy load of Lesson Planning endless sheets and sheets and shit-that-was-long. The burden of being a teacher trainee; rookie textual scourging! shpaaaa!
Weary and longing for shorts we all nodded, mentally absent, and emitted a brief "hhuuuaaauuhhh" to him in reply... Chewbacca-like, and not necessarily meaning we would actually go and succumb to his request. But most times we did take the 15 minute trudge under the unforgiving Thai sun towards the TAWANINN after class. We did it just for kicks and knowing we would be welcomed by a smiling Egyptian with a huge heart (and a keen Thai stalker woman who chucked rocks at his window, and left hieroglyphic love notes in his room; very much like a Shakespearean scene directed by Tarantino). He always opened up the door wearing his PJ's looking as if he'd been sleeping for a straight century and dreaming of magic carpets (hahaha not really).
We just sat there on his balcony, siping away our tiredness out of a stolen red bucket filled with a dodgy and marvelous tasting whiskey/rum and average coke. Oh, the 10 baht bottles of Redbull!
But on that last Thursday we spent together there was something different in the taste of the pavement, in the smell of the motionless trees stuck on the earth, in the fluency dictated by each of our corporal movements... Everything was so beautiful it killed me! But I wasn't going to show it, no sir, not tonight; and so I squeezed every single second belonging to that fruitful evening and did not sleep for a single bit. I thought that if I stretched time by being awake I would manage to freeze the vivacity of the actual sequence of events that came to happen as purely as possible; Distilling them into perpetually fresh memories for and from the wallpaper of my conscience. I'm an artist and I'm crazy and this is what I remember:
Our last lesson turned out to be just right in spite of the unexpected impediments; no one fucked up (not real bad anyways) with the structural process, even though the heat was intense! And we appeared more like melting icicles than very professional English teachers. But the high school Thai kids were supportive, and giggled at Lina's disastrous attempts of drawing a map of China; the result resembled what we thought out to be a monkey tumor!!! So the three of us (JJ, Rebecca and myself) were suppressing euphoric explosions of laughter at the back of the room. Hilarious. At least she did not sketch a giant beach ball and tried to persuade the students it was "THE WORLD".
We wore our pink patrol uniforms (the King's T shirt with a bright and pupil-killing version of a pink color), so we looked cutely retarded I suppose. And we kicked ass! We so did kick it that our supervisor for the session (Rebecca) doodled away with passion and admiration all over our report sheets... out of pure love for our work, that AND boredom. Oh, behold the young and the restless!
I don't think JJ's ever hated the warmer as much as that day (he came first and had to cope through both our apparently never-ending introductions), but we all survived the day. And so we boarded our glorious ship (Tao's minibus) along with the other three trainees (Lester, Hollie, and Amir) towards our home-for-the-month: the grayest TEFL building of 'em all.
Back in the classroom Dave (the BAWSE) told us to finish filling up our manuals and deliver them at 2 o' clock in the afternoon... after that we were FREE like soaring butterflies on a November skyline. DRINKING TIME!
Here I am, decomposing and restructuring chaotic feelings that "vulture" mercilessly round and round my confused little scalp... it's as if the whole trip was dreamt and nothing more; it's Asia no more.
I've two friends in the hospital, a huge animation project due next week and a sudden feel for french vanilla tea (since I can't seem to muster enough sleep I've had to come up with an alternative to coffee), that and cheese.
Oh! and all of a sudden I realize I'm way more hyperactive whenever speaking English than I am in any other language. I pity those who can't speak "Mexican" then: they get the most pungent side of me. Jumpy Xalli.
Funny, when I look at the postcards I bought at the very shabby looking shop in Koh Samet (where the lady was quite nasty indeed) I suddenly become swallowed by a torrent of flashbacks that pixelate(sic) the 4 walls of this studio into a somewhat befuddled composition of greens and yellows. And so I'm driven back to the old Thai pueblo:
"See you at 7 downstairs in the guesthouse"
This is how our good friend Amir bade us farewell every single day at 5 o'clock, right after wrapping up our heavy load of Lesson Planning endless sheets and sheets and shit-that-was-long. The burden of being a teacher trainee; rookie textual scourging! shpaaaa!
Weary and longing for shorts we all nodded, mentally absent, and emitted a brief "hhuuuaaauuhhh" to him in reply... Chewbacca-like, and not necessarily meaning we would actually go and succumb to his request. But most times we did take the 15 minute trudge under the unforgiving Thai sun towards the TAWANINN after class. We did it just for kicks and knowing we would be welcomed by a smiling Egyptian with a huge heart (and a keen Thai stalker woman who chucked rocks at his window, and left hieroglyphic love notes in his room; very much like a Shakespearean scene directed by Tarantino). He always opened up the door wearing his PJ's looking as if he'd been sleeping for a straight century and dreaming of magic carpets (hahaha not really).
We just sat there on his balcony, siping away our tiredness out of a stolen red bucket filled with a dodgy and marvelous tasting whiskey/rum and average coke. Oh, the 10 baht bottles of Redbull!
But on that last Thursday we spent together there was something different in the taste of the pavement, in the smell of the motionless trees stuck on the earth, in the fluency dictated by each of our corporal movements... Everything was so beautiful it killed me! But I wasn't going to show it, no sir, not tonight; and so I squeezed every single second belonging to that fruitful evening and did not sleep for a single bit. I thought that if I stretched time by being awake I would manage to freeze the vivacity of the actual sequence of events that came to happen as purely as possible; Distilling them into perpetually fresh memories for and from the wallpaper of my conscience. I'm an artist and I'm crazy and this is what I remember:
Our last lesson turned out to be just right in spite of the unexpected impediments; no one fucked up (not real bad anyways) with the structural process, even though the heat was intense! And we appeared more like melting icicles than very professional English teachers. But the high school Thai kids were supportive, and giggled at Lina's disastrous attempts of drawing a map of China; the result resembled what we thought out to be a monkey tumor!!! So the three of us (JJ, Rebecca and myself) were suppressing euphoric explosions of laughter at the back of the room. Hilarious. At least she did not sketch a giant beach ball and tried to persuade the students it was "THE WORLD".
We wore our pink patrol uniforms (the King's T shirt with a bright and pupil-killing version of a pink color), so we looked cutely retarded I suppose. And we kicked ass! We so did kick it that our supervisor for the session (Rebecca) doodled away with passion and admiration all over our report sheets... out of pure love for our work, that AND boredom. Oh, behold the young and the restless!
I don't think JJ's ever hated the warmer as much as that day (he came first and had to cope through both our apparently never-ending introductions), but we all survived the day. And so we boarded our glorious ship (Tao's minibus) along with the other three trainees (Lester, Hollie, and Amir) towards our home-for-the-month: the grayest TEFL building of 'em all.
Back in the classroom Dave (the BAWSE) told us to finish filling up our manuals and deliver them at 2 o' clock in the afternoon... after that we were FREE like soaring butterflies on a November skyline. DRINKING TIME!
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