30 Russian Women. 0 Bras.

Even from the beginning, this Malaysian experience has been less than satisfactory. To start off, I was planning on leaving from Thailand on Sunday night, and returning on Tuesday night. Right before we were about to cross the bridge off the island, I realized I left my keys, along with all my money, in the ignition of my motorbike way back in Choeng Thale. I told the driver and he stopped and asked me to phone a friend. I thought, this isn’t who wants to be a millionaire…and it’s 11 at night! Regardless, I phoned my friend Chelsea, who couldn’t get my keys and bring them to me. I didn’t expect her to be able to but it was worth a shot. So I had to take a taxi all the way back to Thalang and that cost another 500 baht. So with my money quickly dwindling, I headed back home.

I would have called my agency to tell them I would not need a sub for Monday since I was back, but it was too late to make the change. Another working day, lost. I spend that Monday worrying about money and about this visa. The company that handles the visas called me and said there was another van to Malaysia Monday night, but that it would cost me an extra 1500 baht for the trip. This brought the grand total of this visa run to an astonishing 7300 baht. That’s more than I make in a week. You’ll see why this bothered me when I talk about the hotel.

So Monday night I went back to the same temple to get picked up again. This time was a little different. Instead of a full van, there were only three of us. Which I was totally ok with because that means we would each get our own row. I chose the back because the windows are bigger and I like looking out the window. I got very comfortable…and then we started to drive. Bumpiest drive of my life. I felt like I was being thrown from my seat constantly. I also felt like it would be a major life accomplishment to fall asleep on this cheap roller coaster. The Japanese woman in front of me had no trouble accomplishing this and her being asleep combined with the bumpiness of the van had strewn her in every which way across the seats in front of me. Her contorted placements amused me. This woman also had her window open. Which, when I boarded this nightmare, I thought would be nice to have a little breeze while we drive. Instead it just sucked all the AC out of the van. I spend the first 45 minutes trying to send her Japanese brain messages to close the window. Then there was the smell. If a string of insults, riddled with cuss words and shameful accusations had a smell, this was that smell. It was, no doubt, the worst smell my nose has ever endured. This is what made her close the window.

After finding a comfortable position, I finally got some sleep. But it didn’t last. After what felt like eternity. We arrived at the border. It was night, but you could tell, even during the day, it was a dark place. One long line awaited the newcomers off the three vans in our caravan. We waited and waited and waited. Then another line opened up! People from the back of my line began to get into the new line. I always have bad experiences switching lines, so I stayed in mine. Some Russians in front of me decided it was in their cards to switch lines. (Let me just say about them, 30 Russian women, 0 bras.) But then someone said something in Thai that none of us understood. But the Russians thought it meant they couldn’t be in that line so they took their places back in front of me. I didn’t like this. In the United States, once you get out of line, you’re out of line. There’s no going back. Finally I got my three day tourist visa for Malaysia and the trip continued. For only 15 minutes.

Now we were forced out of our nice, comfortable vans and into much smaller, much less comfortable vans. My new seat was again in the back. However, it had NO legroom and the seat didn’t lean back. In fact, it leaned a little forward. I had no idea how long I’d be in this van, but I knew one thing. I HAD to find a comfortable position. It wasn’t easy, but I had plenty of time to try them all out. To my knowledge, I fell asleep for the majority of that ride. Mostly because of the severe lack of sleep. It was now 9 am, and we had arrived at the Banana Boutique Hotel.

There was a barge patio with coverings over the left and right sides, with the middle uncovered. People were everywhere. Yelling in languages I could not identify. I quickly made my way to someone I recognized, my bus driver. I held up my passport and shrugged. He understood and led me to a man at a table and asked for my passport and my visa application. I got them out and gave them to him and he wrote some stuff down and stamped some stuff and asked for the 1000 baht for the visa fee. I gave him the money and went to the tiny hotel lobby. There were people everywhere, everyone was tired, and everyone was hungry. There was a breakfast buffet set up with French toast, triangle (McDonalds style) hash browns, fried eggs, and watered down OJ. Starving, I made a sandwich out of all of those things and it tasted like heaven! After I had stuffed my face sufficiently with this stuff, I proceeded to find somewhere to sit and wait for my room to be ready. I scouted and waited, and finally got a coveted chair right near the reception desk, which was efficiently manned by two Muslim women.

I didn’t catch either of their names but they did amazing work. One lady, my favorite lady, held off angry customers and their heated questions about why they had to wait so long and why they couldn’t smoke on the patio. She told one man that it would cost 5 ringgit (Malaysian money) to smoke there. He told her that was too much and asked where the nearest place to smoke was. She told him a place that was kind of far away. I’m pretty sure she was making this up. The man proceeded to explain how that was far, and he didn’t want to take a taxi. She looked at him, smiled, and said, “Then walk.” I started laughing because I was so shocked at how forward she was with this customer. She looked at me and I was still laughing. She said, “You are laughing at me? Very bad!” She was smiling back so I know I wasn’t in trouble. She asked me my name and I told her. She looked at the list of names and I’m pretty sure she winked at me. People are always winking at me. She warded off many other angry customers after that and I continued to laugh and give her the ok sign.

Nearly an hour later, she finally called me up to get my key. I was elated. I braved the maze that was this hotel and found my room. It was a nice little room with a large bed on the floor, with a small desk and a fridge. First things first: put the complimentary water in the fridge. This is what you always do first at hotels in Southeast Asia. The next thing I did was take a shower and change. It felt so good! It was cold, but I wanted it cold. Then I facebooked my parents and took a much needed nap in a surprisingly comfortable bed.

I woke up around 5 and went to the patio for dinner. It didn’t look good so I headed to the nearest 7/11 to get some goods. I ate in my room and watched some Malaysian TV. I set my alarm for 10:30 and dozed off to sleep. The next morning around 8, I was awakened by the phone. Confused and sleepy, I answered. “Hello?” “Hello, good morning. Check out time is now, yeah?” “Ok” “Ok, thank you.” Check out time is now? I haven’t even been in this hotel for 24 hours and I paid 6000 baht for this hotel. That’s about $200. I was not about to get ripped off like that. So I went back to sleep. A few minutes later there was a knock on my door. “Yes?” “You check out now?” Ugh! “I’m getting ready!” So I got up and took a shower and packed everything up and went to the lobby and gave them my key.

I had a few more delicious breakfast sandwiches and did some more waiting for our passports that would arrive at who knows o’clock. They arrived with the Russian passports and they all boarded some vans. My 10:30 alarm went off for when I wanted to wake up. How silly of me to think that I could spend 24 hours at a hotel. Then came the rest of them. I look nothing like my passport picture so they were looking for someone who wasn’t me. For a while I thought they just didn’t bring mine back and there was some kind of problem with my visa. Of course, right? But I found a guy with my USA blue passport and told him that the 19 year old guy in the picture was me. I got on the van, squished, and began to contemplate how I would get comfortable again.

I fell asleep for most of the ride, which was nice. We arrived at the border again and went through immigration and customs and all that jazz. We searched for out comfortable vans, which we all expected would be there to pick us up, and they were. I got my comfortable, roomy, back seat back. And right now, here I sit, writing about my adventure in Malaysia. The Japanese girl next to me is having a worse time since our last van driver drove away with a 650 baht bottle of something she bought at customs duty-free. So now here we sit, waiting again. This trip is all about waiting. The Chinese teenagers on my van have hacked the van’s Bluetooth stereo and are playing Chinese pop.

I have never been more excited to go back to Thailand. I was talking to my friend on Facebook this morning after breakfast and I told her I couldn’t wait to go home. And I meant Thailand! That was the first time I called Thailand home. The immigration people spoke Thai to me and I understood and I was so happy to hear that language again! I miss my motorbike and I miss my street vendors and I miss knowing where everything is. And I miss my kids at school! The Chinese kids are playing that Fergie song “My Humps” right now. And giggling. The sad thing is I know all the words to that song.

Regardless of the fun this trip has given me, I can’t wait to be back in my Choeng Thale. Adios, Malaysia, see you again on Valentine’s Day!

Its December?

Hello, old friend! It's been a while since I've written anything, but not much has been going on. School is great, but there are a lot of holidays in December so I have to be super careful about money. The weather is the same. It rains almost every night. But I love falling asleep to the sound of rain hitting my window. I live in a condo now, and it's just awesome! They clean it every day, and by clean I mean make my bed and take out my trash. But that's really all the cleaning there is to do. My giant floor to ceiling window gives me a great view of the wall of the building next to me, and some of the sky, which is always beautiful and different. I got a different, cheaper, motorbike. It looks more like a scooter and less like a motorcycle, and the gas mileage is quite poor, but it was a ton cheaper than my last cool motorbike. It does its job though-get me to and from school every day and get me to Phuket town every Saturday.

The week routine is a good, steady one. I usually wake up between 7 and 7:30 on my own, and then I wait for my alarm to go off at 7:45. I get up, get everything packed for the day because its awful to not have your materials for class, especially as the teacher. Pick out my shirt for the day, and take a shower. The water is free here so I can take a nice long shower, which my family can tell you I love. Ever since I shaved my head, drying takes significantly less time. It's hard getting used to only spending 10 seconds drying my hair, when it used to take minutes. Then I brush my teeth and go put on my clothes, and roll up my sleeves as I think about how nasty and sweaty this shirt will be at the end of the day. All of my classrooms have air conditioning, but only my fourth graders use theirs. And only during my class. That really helps my opinion of them, because they're a bunch of monkeys. During their test last week, I caught almost half of them cheating. One girl even had answers written on her hand! Amateur... I'm' pretty sure I know every single cheating trick in the book. Don't ask me how.
The weekend is much more relaxed. Sometimes I will go out with friends, or explore by myself, but usually I spend the weekends preparing for the next week, like making lesson plans and tests and worksheets. I get paid every Saturday after 3pm, so every Saturday after 3pm, I get on my not fuel efficient bike and ride 20 minutes down to the outskirts of Phuket town. The drive there is pretty smooth, until the end: the intersection of death. Two lanes every way, one direction goes at a time. Lights last for minutes. Traffic is backed up a whole kilometer. Luckily, on a motorbike you can just cruise around other cars and stuff until you make it to the front. This usually takes about ten minutes. It's annoying as heck. And usually when I do get to the front, its another red light and I have to wait another ten minutes. After I pass this intersection from hell, I go off another road where my agency is and get my money, count it, and sign that I received it. Then I get to go back to the intersection again! There is another option, but then I have to drive all the way around the west side of the island through Patong, and its much longer. So I do the same thing on this side! Slowly drive up to the front and wait for the green light again, but then I do a u turn and go to the giant mall right on the intersection for my weekly Starbucks visit. I usually just get a drink and listen to the pleasant American soft pop music. Then its back to the intersection! But I'm happier this time because I'm full of Starbucks. I really wish they would build one in my district, but I guess its good for my wallet that there's not one.

I keep saying this, but its weird how its almost Christmas in the States and there's not a speck of cold weather here any time of year. One morning I had to go somewhere at 7am and it was probably 75 degrees and I was freezing! Unless I'm at the mall and I see all the Christmas decorations, I forget that its December! I do kinda miss wearing a jacket and sitting by a fire to warm myself, and definitely cuddling up under the covers for a nice winter's nap. But I'm sure all of you are wishing you were at the beach with me right now where its warm and sunny all the time and we always drink cold drinks while we sift sand between our toes. I do love it here. It really is a completely different kind of culture all around. One thing that has started to bother me is all the tourists here. They're always complaining and arguing and not knowing how to drive motorbikes. Silly tourists...