queenoftheworld

A couple of days ago, I met with a friend ive made here in Bangkok and another friend of his that flew over for a visit from LA. Ive never really been big on makin friends on a foreign land, but this time i thought, what the hell, i dont wanna leave without meetin some people. First time i was out with Andrew we grabbed a few pints of beer from a pub around the corner from where we both lived, an irish (or english?) pub in between Sukhumvit 2 and 4. Take away the fact that im starved for ACTUAL conversation in english, we had a pretty great time. A day after that, his friend arrived from LA, and they invited me along for a few beers on the queen's birthday. I met up with them on the corner of the notorious Nana District, there i met C.O. from LA. First on the list, we gotta grab something to eat. Turns out CO was gastronomically adventurous so streetfood was fine with him. We stopped by a noodle shop by the sidewalk and these guys were just packin it in like there was no tomorrow. I hardly touched my noodles because i had noodles for breakfast and lunch. I was havin noodle widthrawal. anyways, they also got some barbecues but i just dont have the heart for any more food (and i thought i was hungry). Weird stuff: they actually snacked on ginger chips. fresh ginger chips. yuck. id be freakin out if i got ginger stuck between myt teeth and these guys actually found it appetizing. While we were eating, I made a comment to CO about how many white people are strewn about Bangkok, i told him "this must make you feel right at home". he tells me "Ive never really been comfortable around white people". Why is that? It turns out, he wasnt really white, he was Persian. Then he's the whitest persian ive ever seen.

This was the ironic part: It was a holiday and every recreational bar was virtually closed. the few ones who are open dont serve any alcohol. Your Majesty, in order to enjoy your birthday, bring out the booze! Man, the essence of the holiday was totally lost on all of us. We were wandering aimlessly down the street when the boys decided to just head back to the pad, grab some beers and watch Dave Chapelle. Me, Whatever. It was barely 9pm and i wasnt really in the mood to socialize with my housemates from hell. But a stroke of inspiration hit Andrew when we passed by Gulliver's tavern. Gullivers tavern is situated in the outskirts of the indian/arabian community of Bangkok. You would not believe the amount of burka clad women and stinky men thats jammed in this side of the city. We were vitually oddities there, youre just in Thailand out of technicality. Anyways a few steps later, we arrive in this egyptian resto thats so shiny, my eyes actually hurt. Everything is made of aluminum. The owner was really on a mission to out-aluminum every other establishment in town. anyways, andrews stroke of inspiration was shisha. Now, this thing was a thing of mystery to me up until this point. eveytime i would stroll down the avenue of soi 3, Id see these men in the other egyptian resto just lazing there like lizards, huffing and puffing on the shisha-thing. Whats on my mind is : obviously that things not disposable, so, how many mouths actually suck on that contraption? myth busted, they do cover it with foil and change it for every customer (thank god). Ok being the shisha virgin that i am, i let the boys do the negotiations, anyways i was just there to puff. turns out it was actually pretty good. at first i couldnt believe the amount of smoke that came outta their mouths. I took a virginal sip of smoke, and andrew said it was the wimpiest drag hes ever seen. well, i wasnt exactly a shishaer, ok, i needed some breaking. turns out again, you just take gasps---gulps of it, and unlike cigarettes, it doesnt hurt. you could feel this gurgling from the bottom of the bong when you take a deep drag. It was so fruity it didnt feel like smoking at all. Ok, so there goes my shisha experience. Andrew actually was havin the red-eye, caliming he was shisha-d out. Apparently it makes you light headed, but it didnt do anythin to me at all. I was just shisha-ized. and it was neat. If they invent a portable shisha id actually consider quitting smoking cigs. But the closet thing that could happen is probably theyd invent a backpack where you could carry that bong around. So ill have to stick to smoking for now. Id like to do it again, however, im not so sure how they view women and smoking. Its only the men who do it, and yeah sure enough im not thai, but i think it'd probably be safer still for me if i went there with at least one guy and not a galpal.

so anyways after that was another round of alcohol from one semi-decent bar which actually served them that day. As usual it was packed with white men and prostitutes. It would have actually been classy if not for that. We head on to andrews pad after that, some beers, and dave chapelle. Now I know who Dave Chapelle is, ignorant me. My fave's lil jon. Yeeeeaah!

My subconscious has decided for me even before my logic ever did, Im moving to Bangkok. I was ungracefully snoozing after a very tiring 4 hour land and boat ride to the beach of Puerto Galera when in the midst of my unconsciousness I was unceremoniously woken up by the shrill ring of my mobile phone. Mobile phones mysteriously have very strong signals whenever you need a long undisturbed sleep. There was a familiar voice on the other line, asking me if i wanted a job in Bangkok. I said yes.

Later that day while lying in the sand and getting my fill of the sun, I thought I distinctly remember a dream of being offered a job in Bangkok. I was at it for a full hour, trying to remember the exact conversation in the dream/non-dream. For the first time in my life, i was honestly at a loss as to whether it was real or if i dreamed it.

Now I have been living in Bangkok for the past two months. It was not a dream after all. I am living alone for the first time in my life, and having a romance with a city I just met. Im having a lovely time, Bangkok takes me to parties, I have been around beautiful people, and he showed me a lot of new places and gave me a lot of things.

But I cant help but miss my old love terribly. My true love. Manila. He might be a pain most of the time, he might be full of nasty habits, but I know him so well. And he knows me. He knows what time I go to bed, and he shows me the shade of sunset that I love the most. He knows how I like my pork done, my rice cooked and how much chili i can tolerate. He never sleeps until I do, and he wakes up without a sound so he can prepare his colors for me.

My subconscious decided way before my logic did, all my thoughts and all the things that i did to better myself are in preparation of coming home to him. What can I say, cliches are there for a reason. Home is where the heart is.