Condoms and "Dug River"

No personal pics for this entry, sorry. My mom took my digital camera with her on her week-long trip through Thailand's Isan region, and so I was left cameraless this weekend. (You can probably imagine the grave cameraholic withdrawal symptoms I experienced as a result.)


Paddy's left for London. We ate up a storm on Saturday; my god, we spent the majority of this weekend being the biggest, most gluttonous, most ravenous pigs in the whole friggin world. Really, no joke. Don't believe me? Alrighty, here we go:


I got my hair cut in the morning. The person who cut my hair was a gay guy who had an array of varying shades of blonde highlights that harshly streaked and criss-crossed across his hair. But WOW, did he look cool; he could so pull it off whereas I never could or would be able to get away with a do like his. Anyway, as he snippity-snipped away, he also chatted and ranted and raved about various things. He inquired as to what kind of doctor I'm interested in becoming (that is, um, assuming I actually get through a little something called Med school), and I told him maybe Pediatrics or Obstetrics. He brushed this off by crying, "Ooooy, Nong! You have to think about money first! Money first!! You have to gather and reap as much money as you can while you're still young so that you can enjoy it until the day you die! Go be a plastic surgeon and you'll make tons of money! Yes! So much money you won't even know what to do with it! You'll have so much money, you'll be using money notes to wipe your ass! So be a plastic surgeon, na. Everyone wants to be beautiful these days. See, there's lawsuits flying left and right all over the evening news, but does that stop people from going under the knife? Noooo!! Everyone still lines up like mad dogs in a queue that could stretch all the way to China and back! Oooooh! Nong, if you become a plastic surgeon, I'll be your first customer na ja. And I'll give you free haircuts for the rest of your life! So be a plastic surgeon, na, na!"


He was a particularly rambunctious speaker, which normally wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest; in fact, I think that the way stereotypical Thai gays talk - with all the flying hand motions, high-pitched intonations, and fast-paced utterances - makes for highly entertaining and interesting conversations. However, since he had a pair of very sharp scissors directed towards my head, you can probably understand my wary alertness. He actually turned out to be quite adept with scissors, and I'm relieved to say that I did not end up with a mullet or anything else as hideously appalling.


~*~

Lunch at Zen (a Japanese restaurant) was great. Siri and I shared a plate of Yaki Soba and a California Salmon Sushi set. It was divine. Next came big scoops of cookies and cream ice-cream at Baskin Robbins where Paddy told us some horror stories from his Secondary School days over at Millfield School in England. Wow, it was like stuff out of the movies: Seniors used to squeeze and squish him and all the other younger guys into suitcases and push them down five flights of stairs, five times in a row. Poor dude actually broke his arm because of that - he's lucky he didn't break his neck! Wide-eyed and fascinated, Siri and I listened as he told us about the Seniors who went around stealing the freshmen's towels in the shower room, how the Seniors forced him to fight fellow classmates until only one guy was left standing, and a score of other tales. Wow, I guess RIS really sheltered us from all the bullying and peer-pressure that's rather rampant in other schools around the world. I know it exists, but I guess I was lucky to have never experienced it personally. Hmm, yeah, high school life was kind to me. Anyway, the interesting thing is that Paddy said that despite all that he went through, his Millfield School days were some of the best days of his life and that they were real character-strengthening times.


Patrick burned a compilation Funk/Soul/Jazz CD for me, and I'm listening to it right now. I LOVE IT. It's very smooth, very mellow, and just plain awesome. :-) Thanks, Paddy!


~*~
We decided to watch Master and Commander. Siri and I wanted to see it because of Russell Crowe, and Paddy wanted to watch it "because of the ships." Erm, okay. We checked out the movie times and it turned out that the next round was a lengthy two hours away, and so we went to Boots to buy some band-aids for my crying feet instead. Yeah, they looked fantastic, but the new pair of shoes I'd gotten a few days ago was giving me horrible, weeping blisters. Ah well. After standing around, considering whether the cartoon-themed band-aids were cuter than the safari-themed ones, I finally decided on a pack of plain-jane transparent band-aids. We were going to leave, really, but then we got distracted by the nearby Coffee World shop, which was conspiratorially sending out irresistibly difficult-to-ignore-unless-your-nose-were-dysfunctional whiffs of coffee/mocha/chocolate. Naturally, we trooped on over.



We got Chocolate Passion drinks that had huge chunks of chocolate in them and overly generous helpings of whipped cream smothered prettily on top. Gaaaah! In a vain and rather futile attempt to decrease our calorie intake, Siri and I shared a cup - yes, again. As we sat slurping, Siri and I tried to decide where to take Paddy for dinner; after all, this was his last night in Bangkok, and so we wanted to take him some place memorable. I'd recalled that Jai had mentioned to me a few weeks back about a place around Charoen Krung Rd. called The Good View, but we didn't know where it was located exactly. Darn. And then we started talking about the famous (infamous?) Cabbages and Condoms Restaurant, but again, we weren't very sure as to where it's precise location was. So, we decided to try calling the operator for the restaurant's number.



Okay, before I go any further, let me make it clear to you that I can be a big idiot sometimes. Really, like a duh-what-were-you-thinking kind of an idiot. I called the operator, and when she asked for the name of the establishment, I said, Condoms and Cabbages, unknowingly reversing the two words when really I should have said Cabbages and Condoms. I wasn't aware of my mistake at the time (Siri and I realized it later the next morning), and so she obviously couldn't find any restaurant in the database under the name of Condoms and Cabbages. She thought that maybe she'd misspelled it.


Can you please spell it for me?
Condoms. C-O-N-D-O-M-S.
(Siri and Paddy - those damn traitors - were disloyally snickering in the background.)
And. A-N-D. Cabbages. C-A-B-B-A-G-E-S.
(Operator types the name of the restaurant into the database.)
What was the word before 'and'?
Um, condoms.
I'm sorry, I can't hear you very clearly… it's very loud. [Mind you, we were at MBK and so the background noise must have been deafening to her over the phone.]
Err, condoms!
What?!
Condoms!!
WHAT?!
CONDOMS!!! CON! DOMS!
(Siri and Paddy are unabashedly shrieking with laughter at this point, and I don't think the picture-perfect, wholesome-looking farang family sitting a couple of tables away from us really appreciated me hollering the word 'condom' in front of their two children very much.)
I'm sorry, I can't find any restaurant under that name, the operator finally says.


So we changed our plans and decided to go to Khaosan Road because Siri knew a really great Thai place there. As we headed towards the exit at MBK, Paddy suddenly sniffed and said that he smelled rain. What? Are you mad? It's not supposed to rain in January, Paddy... it's not the rainy season yet, Siri and I firmly assured him. But never doubt a Londoner, folks - Paddy's ultra sensitive nose was unflinchingly correct, and when we finally walked outside and stepped towards the curb, we found out that indeed, it was raining. Oh phooey, we can't go to Khaosan Road anymore because none of us was prepared for rain and so no one had an umbrella. Where to, now? I suddenly remembered this fantastic Italian place where my family and I had dined at recently on my dad's birthday, and so we finally hailed down a taxi and headed for the Amari Watergate Hotel.


Along the way, our conversation started to drift rather aimlessly. Patrick told us about the various nicknames the guys at his old school used to dub one another: Ben Dover, Master Bates, and Jack Seamen are a select few among the many names he listed off. Hehe, quite fascinating indeed.






When we arrived at the Amari Watergate Hotel, the soaring notes of the khim - a Thai traditional instrument - greeted us as we walked through the front entrance. There were some traditionally-dressed ladies playing live traditional Thai music in the lofty front lobby, and the notes literally reverberated off the elevated walls and could even be heard from the sixth floor where we had dinner at Grappino's. The view from the restaurant was stunning - you could see the flickering nightlife coming to life through one window, and see the musicians in the lobby down below through another window.




The waitress who greeted us at the front of the restaurant actually remembered me. We probably looked like a bunch of scruffy kids in our jeans and tees, but, as Paddy says, she totally gave us the VIP treatment. After she sat us down at a table with a great view of the streets below, another waitress - who Siri and I later dubbed 'zee bitchy waitress' - came charging at us with a chalkboard and the chef's daily specials. Upon hearing us converse in English, she insisted on speaking to us in English (even though I spoke to her in Thai) and I have to admit that it was exceedingly difficult to keep the giggle in when she read "Dug River" off the menu. I wasn't particularly keen of duck liver, or any of the other dishes she listed off, but Siri and I still politely listened whereas Patrick unabashedly snickered into his napkin after hearing the lady's Engrish. Siri and I promptly gave him a good parental scolding afterwards: Paddy, you dork! You're supposed to be the sophisticated London urbanite. Where's your friggin decorum doood?? She came back a short moment later to see if we wanted "any spirits or drinks" (or to be more accurate, "eh-nee sa-pee-rit aw da-rink"), and when we politely refused, she pushed a few more alcoholic beverages at us which we also turned down. She left in a huff, and Siri said she wouldn't be surprised if the waitress thought we were a bunch of "stupid cheapskate kids".



The bread was perfect. The seafood pizza was thankfully authentic (none of that Pizza Hut crap) and the Pasta Cabanara with white sauce was slurpalicious. Conversation was great, too. Paddy's tight with Panthongtae Shinawatra (the son of Thailand's Prime Minister, Taksin Shinawatra) and other members of Bangkok's social elite, but he's still so unassumingly down-to-earth and easy-going. Siri and I agreed that he's an altogether great guy and is one of those rare people you meet in life who manages to leave a lasting impression on you.


Zee Bitchy Waitress took our plates away even before Siri'd finished her last piece of pizza. Man, how rude! Nevertheless, despite 'Zee Bitchy Waitress', Grappino's is still a great place to dine, so make sure to check it out if you're ever in town. We parted ways with Paddy at around 9:30, and before climbing into a taxi, he told us that this had been one of his best trips back to Thailand. Wow, glad you enjoyed your stay here this time, Paddy, but don't forget that the only reason we showered you with the VIP treatment is because we're gonna be leeching off you when we go to England next year.





Siri and I walked back to her place, which was only a short walk away. Our rather vivid and overactive imaginations began to taunt us relentlessly, making us think that our bellies were beginning to look a lot like the bellies of the laughing Buddha figurines at Yaowarat. Naturally, we flocked to the gym on the eighth floor where we attacked the exercise bikes, treadmill, and stepmaster.



*Pant, heave, pant, heave* Oh. My. God. I'm so. Gonna. Die.
Just. *Pant* Stick in. *Pant* There. Few more. Minutes. *Gasp* T'go.

(40 million hours later - Okay, I lied, 40 minutes later - our sentences were becoming somewhat truncated. At this point, there wasn't anyone else left in the gym except for an elderly dude who was practically soaring on the treadmill.)

*Huff, puff, huff* Old. Fart's. Glidin'. Treadmill.
Dunno. How. Duzzit.
*Pant, gasp, heave* O. Keh. Nuff, now. Lezzee. H'many cal'ries. Burnt.
(Pressing of buttons)
WHAT?!?! Only 90 calories?!?!?! But we practically biked up friggin Everest! Twice!


Okay, so Siri and I are a little out of shape, but that's okay because we still manage to get our weekly workouts by trooping through Bangkok's various malls every other weekend.


~*~

We went to Sunday Mass at Holy Redeemer Church the next morning. Since it's affiliated with my old high school, I may be biased, but it's one of my favorite churches here in Bangkok. From the outside, it's designed to look like a Buddhist-styled wat, but the elevated walls inside are decorated with scenes from the bible. Mass was lovely and the sermon was very thought-provoking. Since it's so far from my house, I haven't been there for over two years, but I really should go back there more often.



We walked to All Season's Place afterward, since it was only a short walk down the road. The shopping area was practically deserted, and so we decided to go back to MBK again. We tried out this Chinese place called "Shanghai something, something, Pao" (Sorry, I don't remember the full name of the restaurant, except that it was really long). The food was wonderfully authentic and the bah-mee noodles were great. We were going to check out the animation fair at the Queen Sirikit Convention Center, but then we decided against it and headed to my place instead.



Along the way into my moo ban (housing complex), we passed by my cousin's new house. We spotted P'Mike's Porche parked out in front and saw that P'Jim was in the process of moving in. We decided to take a quick peek and so P'Mike gave us the grand tour: the front porch has glass floors with an aquarium underneath, and there were marble busts dotting the entire first floor. The toilets have a freakin REMOTE and P'Jim's closet - with walls and walls of shoe space - is even larger than my parents' room. As we stood out back by the swimming pool, I told P'Mike that it looked like one of those rapper houses you see on MTV Cribs and he promptly said that he had girls in bikinis hiding out in the garage (which, by the way, can park up to ten cars). The house is HUGE, and makes an undeniably grand architectural statement, but I can't help but feel that the house comes across as rather barren and cold... hmm, I guess I feel that way because of all the steel, glass, and harsh black-and-white color scheme. Even though it's not the kind of house I would personally want to live in, it's still an undeniably gorgeous house.


After hanging out by the lake at the back of my house, Siri and I popped some popcorn and watched "The Princess Bride" for old time's sake. Hehe, gotta love that Cary Elwes. We later pigged out some more and had some nearby streetfood for dinner. We dug in and got our hands dirty, gobbling up the restaurant's famous - they've actually won awards for their food - kai yang (roasted chicken) and Som Tum (Thai papaya salad). Ah man, told you we were gluttonous pigs this weekend. Damn. Looks like someone's gonna be seeing a lot of the treadmill this week.

~*~

On another note: I won't go into much detail, but I witnessed firsthand this weekend just how important respect is in a relationship. So many relationships and marriages fall to pieces these days because of a lack of respect and regard for the other person. It sounds simple - respect for one's partner - but it seems like there are so many relationships nowadays that are lacking in it. A little "harmless flirting" can sometimes take a quick and sharp turn towards blatant cheating, and it seems so common these days, it's almost as if it has become the norm. I know that people who tiptoe behind their partner's backs exist out there, but I never expected that someone I thought I knew so well and for so long would be one of those people too. I'm not mad - I never was - but I'm just particularly disappointed in their actions. I'm still there for that person, always, as an ear to listen to, a shoulder to cry on, a friend for life; but lately it has become increasingly difficult to see and comprehend certain things through their eyes.


Am I thinking too idealistically? I don't know. Sigh. Perhaps I need to start looking at the world sans rosy-tinted lens, and with a little more clarity.



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