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Monday Meat #37
20 Monday Oct 2014
Posted Monday Meat
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20 Monday Oct 2014
Posted Monday Meat
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19 Sunday Oct 2014
Posted Selfies Sunday
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18 Saturday Oct 2014
Posted End of the Week
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Bali is almost as much fun as Bangkok is for finding guys, but the souvenirs are not sometimes things you want to take home with you.
ChrisitianPFC Gets Hit By A Car. I know. But you can’t beat that as a headline.
Because sometimes Google Translate just isn’t enough, all the Thai Swear Words you’ve ever needed to know.
SE Asians are champs at mangling the English language on signs for some unintentional humor, but retail clerks come in a close second with these 23 Awkwardly Placed Stickers.
This week’s NSFW Tumblr link, Gay Asian Gay, says it contains images of hot, sexy naked Gay Asian men and hot, sexy naked Asian men loving other hot, sexy naked Asian men – which I guess pretty well covers everything you could be looking for.
An erotic story set on the beach at Pattaya, of Blue Trunks and seaside sex toys.
I’m guessing this blogger who is into gogo dancers never actually made it to Thailand as he claims this video is from Bangkok, but then five+ minutes of naked Asian guys dancing is nothing to sneeze at either.
Back in the day, Martin Foreman lived in Thailand and published several stories and reference pieces on his blog. Table-dancing in Bangkok is one of them, a well-written entry that starts off with the familiar, Soi 4, and moves to the seldom visited by tourists local Thai clubs. While times have changed, somethings stay the same and his tale could as easily have been written today.
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17 Friday Oct 2014
Posted Wats of Thailand
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It’s difficult to not be impressed with Wat Arun with its porcelain shard covered prang facade reaching into the sky as you motor up the Chao Phraya. It’s second only to Phuket for having a name that’s fun to pun around with too. And from Tha Chang Pier, it’s a crap shoot for most visitors whether figuring out how to get across the river for a visit or heading inland for an attempt at finding the Grand Palace not closed will be the easier endeavor. Either site works well if you are into crowds. But if a wat is wat’s up for your day and you want some significance out of your visit you may want to visit Wat Rakang Kositaram instead. Or Wat Rakang Kositaram Woramahawihan if you are pedantically inclined. Or Wat Rakang if you are not into details. It’s easy to find. Just look for Wat Arun and then look down. Locals know it is the temple to head for when your reputation needs some PR work. And considering what you probably did in Patpong last night, your rep undoubtedly needs a good dose of Wat Rakang’s magic too.
Wat Rakang’s claim to fame for helping you clean up yours is just one of its draws. That one is due to its name (The Temple of the Bells) and the belief that worshiping at the wat will result in you becoming popular and having an ever-growing reputation just like the far-reaching sound of ringing bells. Just outside the temple there is even a row of bells lined up. It is believed that ringing all of them in sequence will bring you good luck. But that depends on how you define luck. The temple’s fame comes from a large bell that was unearthed there during renovations in the 1700s when King Rama I reigned supreme. It was a cool bell. So he had it floated across the river and installed at the Temple of the Emerald Buddha in his palace, a swap he made for five smaller bells for the wat. So if you are a fan of quantity over quality, Wat Rakang is for you. Which brings us back to what you were probably up to in Patpong last night and why you really need to visit Wat Rakang today.
Undoubtedly, your soul is in bad need of making some merit and since locals in Thailand are always in bad need of some baht even before you make it to those bells your wallet can participate in various important Buddhist religious rites. Because just as anywhere in the world those fresh off the boat make for easy marks, at the Wat Rakang Pier you can buy food to throw at the massive school of catfish who greedily await your arrival. (There’s also a massive flock of pigeons greedily waiting to steal the bread you bought for the fish, but pretend they are usurpers from Burma and ignore them.)
Nearby, the aforementioned locals greedily await your arrival too and are willing to sell you a baby turtle or two to release into the Chao Phraya. Both of these activities are considered ways to make merit. I have to assume, being similar, that releasing your boy du jour to return to his gogo bar is a merit making activity too. But then if you took him temple touring with you today, he’s probably just glad you visited Wat Rakang instead of its neighbor, Wat Arun, and he didn’t have to help drag your tired ass up that wat’s prang’s steep, seemingly never-ending, narrow steps.
Wat Rakang was built during the Ayutthaya period and was originally known as Wat Bangwayai. Because those five little bells Rama I tried to pawn off for the cool big bell he coveted weren’t quite enough, he also gave the wat a new name. Uh, that’d be Wat Rakang. ‘Cuz rakang is the Thai word for bell. Supposedly the wat got its moniker of The Temple of the Bells in honor of the discovery of that big ‘un, but when you are king you can do whatever you want, including grabbing the best souvenirs, and I suspect Rama I just wanted to throw some shade and give the temple a lasting reminder of what happens when you horse-trade with royalty. It’s kinda become a royal family joke. A pair of blue bells, which you can see in front of the temple’s ubosot, were more recently gifted to the temple by King Bhumibol (aka Rama IX). Those Ramas are such jokesters.
As if the bell thingy wasn’t enough, Rama I also built a rather grand residence just across the river from Wat Rakang (that’d be the Grand Palace) just so his former domicile could always have a reminder of the difference between being a king and a king-to-be staring it in its face. Before his enthronement, #I used to live at Wat Rakang. He ‘donated’ his former digs to the wat, headed off to war, and returned a king with a snazzy new place to call home. His former digs were torn down and then reconstructed by the pond behind the temple’s ubosot, not so coincidently in the spot where that damn bell was found. It’s been since moved again (‘cuz the royals just can’t resist fucking with Wat Rakang) and is now known as the Tripataka Hall, a monastic library, or Ho Trai, where the wat’s ancient Buddhist scriptures are kept (or at least those some Rama hasn’t moved across the river) and its once vividly painted red exterior walls are one of the temple’s most photographic sites.
But wait! There’s more! #I and his elder sister – who also wanted to get in on the act – had a Khmer-style prang built at Wat Rakang too, which Prince Naris – who is widely recognized as one of Siam’s greatest artists – deemed the most perfect Rattanakosin prang in Thailand. Wat Rakang’s prang is regarded as the prototype of prangs in the present era. Which finally sounds like Wat Rakang got some of the props it deserved. But as perfect as its prang may be, Wat Arun’s is a hell of a lot bigger (and more famous, rightly so) and we all know that with prangs as with most things, size matters. But I guess that does make Wat Rakang’s prang the quintessential Asian prang in Thailand. Or as the Chakri Dynasty clan like to joke when they sail by: “Oh look! It looks just like a prang. Only smaller.”
Now with Wat Arun almost next door, visiting Wat Rakang may start sounding like that time your parents promised you a trip to Disneyland and only took you to Universal Studios instead, but the whole point of rewarding international travel is the cool souvenirs you can take home to remind your friends and family of how much richer and more fulfilled your life is. And when it comes to Mickey Mouse ears in Thailand, nothing beats a powerful Buddhist amulet. Sure, you can find lots at the Mahathat Amulet Market over by the House That Rama I Built, but even Thai royalty won’t mess with Buddha bling and true believers know when it comes to luck, love, protection, and good fortune, Wat Rakang is the place to be. Unless you are a bell. Obviously.
There are a lot of Buddha amulets in Thailand but there are none so famous and sought after as Pra Somdej Wat Rakang made by Somdej Pra Puttajarn Toh Prommarungsee, or Archarn Toh or Somdej Toh for short. He was a son of King Rama II (before he became the King) and as pre-king royals in Thailand often do took the vows of monkhood at the age of 13. Unlike some, he stuck to it, probably because with 73 siblings his chances of becoming Rama III were pretty slim.
By the age of 21, he obtained senior monk status as well as the affectionate nickname Maha Toh, or King’s monk. And by the reign of Rama IV (aka King Mongkut, aka the titled character in The King And I) Maha Toh received the ultimate title of Somdej Phra Puttajarn Toh, the highest level of monkhood. Having scaled the monkhood peak and having put that whole bell thingy behind him, Somdej Toh found himself with lots of free time on his hands and took up amulet making as a hobby. Due to the old-timey methods he used – which imparted great power to his hand crafted pieces – these amulets became very famous and were called Somdej Wat Rakang, and/or Phra Somedej.
In his life time, Somdej Toh made around 84,000 Phra Somdej amulets. Today they fetch extremely high prices. Like in the millions of baht. Or, as a honored visitor to Wat Rakang, assuming you earned lost of merit feeding catfish and setting turtles or bar boys free, you too can buy a genuine Phra Somdej amulet right where it was made for a mere hundred bucks or so (so being the Thai word for however much you are willing to pay). Sure you can buy them on eBay and Amazon too, but while those may come with a genuine Certificate of Authenticity, just like when buying Mickey Mouse ears, it means so much more when you buy them from the mouse himself.
How powerful are Phra Somdej amulets? Back in 2008, a police officer in Pattaya got busted and charged for robbery and attempted murder when he tried to steal one, then estimated at a value of 8 million baht, from its owner. The Boy in Brown pointed his gun at the amulet owner’s head and pulled the trigger twice. But the gun failed to fire. And while guns that fail to fire in Pattaya are usually blamed on shoddy, knock-off Viagra, in this case it was the protective powers of the Phra Somdej amulet that got the props.
The making of Phra Somdej amulets continued after his death, using the original five molds Somdej Toh made. Kinda, sorta. As an amulet maker he may have reigned supreme, as a mold maker, not so much. His sucked. So the king’s goldsmith made new ones. And then proceeded to mass produce the one-of-a-kind collectibles. But having learned their lesson with that bell thingy, the powers that be at Wat Rakang did not sit idly by while those bastards across the river hauled in all the loot and began offering new limited-edition amulets directly from where Somdej Toh once lived (limited-edition being Thai for as many as they could sell). That practice continues today and a new amulet is released whenever a significant and/or auspicious event occurs at Wat Rakang.
(Wat Rakang is open daily from 8am to 5pm; admission is free, but fake amulets are not. Take the Chao Phraya River Express Boat to Tha Chang Pier, hop off and then take a ferry to cross the river to the Wat Rakang Pier.It’s about a five minute walk from making merit by feeding the catfish to Wat Rakang.)
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17 Friday Oct 2014
Posted Aloha Friday
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16 Thursday Oct 2014
Posted It's A Gay World
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Spirit Day?
Seriously?
I get National Coming Out Day. ‘Cuz as a nation the U.S. really does need to come out. What little does get accomplished in DC is thanks to closeted, gay staffers. And anyone who chooses a career that requires them to spend all of their time around nothing but other men, well the military is basically run by closeted gay men too. That’s why the Navy was invented. And that’s not even counting the lesbians. But Spirit Day sounds like some hokey high school event that pits the classes against each other, a day of the school year that only matters to cheerleaders and their pompoms. Spirit Day does not sound like it has anything to do with feathered boas. And yet the gay infosphere is holding its collective breath in anticipation for this year’s Spirit Day celebrations. So I thought I should find out just what Spirit Day is supposed to be all about.
Huh. You celebrate Spirit Day by wearing purple. Which makes little sense until you discover the holiday comes out of Canada. Which still makes little sense, but when you share your continent with a bunch of people who insist on speaking French, it’s just better to humor them. Besides, you never know when you’ll be traveling internationally and it’ll be safer to pretend you are Canadian, eh?
Purple is the color of Spirit Day because the purple stripe in the rainbow flag represents spirit, although I don’t remember any of us voting on that issue. The observance and wearing of purple is supposed to show your support for LGBT youth who are victims of bullying. I’m not sure what spirit and being bullied have to do with each other. Maybe red would have been a better color selection. And while I’m all in favor of supporting our LGBT youth, I’m not so sure that taking a stand against bullying is the right way to go.
Bullying is a part of growing up. If you are not being bullied for being gay, then you are for being fat. Or skinny. Or wearing glasses. Or having the wrong hair style. Or wearing last year’s popular style of Nikes. Or only carrying an iPhone 5. Even the bullies get bullied. That’s what high school is all about: Making friends and then finding out those friends talk stink-eye about you behind your back. It helps you prepare for life in the workplace. Or Congress. And gives you a reason to return for your 20th year class reunion when you can laugh at all the kids who bullied you because their life is crap and you are rich and successful. When it comes to bullying, there is nothing so sweet as revenge, a dish we all know is best served cold. Besides, if it weren’t for bullies we wouldn’t have the wedgie.
But as enlightened adults we are supposed to be against bullying when we all know children are vicious creatures who would eat their own mothers if they could figure out how to work the microwave oven. Bullying is the least of their sociopathic problems. We are supposed to be anti-bullying but picking on those different from us and/or who rate lower on the social scale is part of human nature. I’m sure even Mother Teresa bullied those who were not as saintly as she was. Hell, even Martha Stewart just bullied Gwyneth Paltrow for being a fan of ‘consciously uncoupling’. ‘Cuz Martha knows when it comes to being a bully, knowing how to throw shade is what counts. And no one throws shade better than The Gays.
You can wear all the purple you want, and pass all of the anti-bullying legislation you can garner support for, but you will never stop teenagers from bullying each other. That’s part of the fun of being young. Just like drinking booze ’til you puke. Which your friends will all remind you of for years to come because friends bully friends too. I think we’d better support our LGBT youth by teaching them how to use witty barbs and snark to eviscerate those who pick on them. It could be the gay version of Big Brothers and Big Sisters. ‘Cuz middle-aged drag queens reign supreme and have lots of nastiness to teach our young. Now that she is dead, Joan Rivers is being called a gay icon and everyone is quick to point out as rude, crude, and abrasive as her humor was, she never picked on The Gays. Joan wasn’t stupid. She knew that any gay man on the planet could out dis her with one limp wrist tied behind his back. Now that’s spirit. Bitch.
Being gay is cool these days. Gay boys are being elected home coming queen across the nation. You can’t have a hit show on television these days unless some of your characters are gay. And if your program is on cable, it had better be homoerotic too. So guess who gets to be the bully now? If you don’t know, just ask the right-wing conservative fundamentalist nut wings. They are begging for exemptions based on ‘religious’ principles from every gay rights related piece of legislation and/or judicial decision because suddenly they are in the minority. And it’s time we all make fun of them for their ridiculous claims that Jesus says they should be haters. Just like the voters of America have been doing. We don’t need anti-bullying legislation, we need to bring back the days of having a pillory on the town square so we can throw spoiled fruit at those who deserve to be bullied for being assholes. Like Sarah Palin. It’s payback time and we need to toughen up our LGBT youth so they have the stuff it takes to properly bully deserving souls.
We should not be attempting to protect our LGBT youth by being against bullying, we should be raising money to send them all to MMA training camp. ‘Cuz playing the victim card never gets you anywhere. Judy Garland may have been an appropriate gay icon in days gone by, but for today’s LGBT youth the role model should be Larry Kramer. That man has never been a victim. He eats victims for breakfast, preferably straight ones. Our cherished idols of victimhood need to be replaced with heroes who have balls. Like Karen Walker from Will & Grace. ‘Cuz a well placed spiked heel on someone’s testicles says don’t fuck with me better than any piece of anti-bullying legislation ever will.
Sorry, but Spirit Day sends the wrong message. The It Gets Better Campaign was on a better track. Because it does get better. And it is getting better daily. If you want to show your support for LGBT youth, be an example of just how good it can get. Sue the homophobic baker who won’t make your wedding cake and take every penny they have or will ever have. Demand that any business leader who makes an anti-gay remark be immediately fired. Help get out the vote to run every Tea Party hater out of Congress. Refuse to do business with any company who fails to extend the same rights to its gay employees as it does to its straight ones. That’s bullying I can get behind. Stand up for your rights, and stand proudly. And for the gods’ sake, open that damn closet door. If you want to support our LGBT youth you need to be counted too. The more of us that are visible, the merrier the world will be. Because we’re here, we’re queer, and we run this country damnit.
Oh. And have a happy Spirit Day.
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16 Thursday Oct 2014
Posted Take It Off Thursday
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15 Wednesday Oct 2014
Posted I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy
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On one of our first outings together my bar boy friend and current love of my life, Noom, and I hit the weekend market. Because it was the weekend and I rarely miss a trip to Chatuchak when visiting Bangkok. What I don’t not miss is the pet section there. One stroll through the added humidity thanks to a few hundred fish tanks is enough to warn you to stay clear in the future. Not unlike your singular stop at one of Chatuchak’s public restrooms. And while I am just as susceptible to the cuteness of little puppies and kittens as anyone else, the preponderance of mangy soi dogs and starved cats on Bangkok’s streets serves as a reminder that domesticated animals in third world countries tend to lead short, and not exactly fulfilling lives. Chatuchak’s pet zone also has lots of mice and rats on display and since those too can be viewed nightly on Bangkok’s streets – even if they are better fed than the city’s stray cats and dogs – I don’t really see the point. Caged creatures, unless they are of the coyote boy variety, are just not my thing. Noom on the other hand has never met an animal he didn’t immediately fall in love with. And they love him right back.
I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been dining outdoors when some flea-bitten cat carrying the Buddha knows what diseases heads for Noom with lust in its heart. I always warn him not to touch that thing. He always ignores me, scoops it up, and gives it a major dose of love, ignoring the dose of whatever viral infection is most popular on that soi at the time being passed right back as thanks. That worries me. I keep expecting to awake some morning to find his temperature spiking, the bed drenched in sweat, and Noom suffering through a bout of delirium. And while when I do awake the bed is still often drenched in sweat, Noom is usually slumbering peacefully, his naked body and hard cock on display for my enjoyment. Then my temperature begins to spike. And I want to pet it. I guess, considering what he does for a living, passing along unconditional love to creatures who would repulse anyone else is par for the course. He probably just wishes some weren’t quite so hirsute.
That first visit to Chatuchak was also the first time Noom borrowed my wallet to make a purchase. He wanted to buy some fish food for the creature that lived in a tank back at his village home. No problemo. But Noom being Noom wasn’t satisfied with my involvement being strictly a financial one and had to lead us on a merry hunt for a relative of his pet fish so I’d know where that food was going. And since one of his talents is the ability of getting lost when changing his mind, that meant spending far too long amidst the fish tanks and accompanying humidity levels of the weekend market.
We finally located his prey, through the murky depths of a tank filled with stagnant water I came face to face with a swimming penis. I don’t know why everything leads back to what Noom does for a living, but it does. I don’t know why he thinks I’ll be fascinated by anything that looks like a penis either, but that too holds true. Obviously, we were meant to be together.
Noom was more excited than I normally am when I find a penis, and aping my usual response immediately bent down to plant a big wet one on the tank’s glass. The damn fish kissed him back. The boy is far too enamored with fish in my book. Self-identifying as straight regardless of the penis/vagina ratio in his life, I get his fascination with the human variety. At the dinner table, not so much. The gods created some creatures ugly to discourage people from eating them. They just forgot about Asians. And I don’t get why, if you love being served a specific species on a plate, you’d be equally fond of having one as a pet. It’s not like when someone says they love dogs that you have to decide if they mean on a leash or on a barbeque spit. Oh, wait.
But as with that penis/vagina ratio thingy, Noom tends to dismiss such paradoxes in his life. All that mattered was that fish’s obvious affection for him. “He like me,” Noom announced, thinking that wallet that had just bought food might be deep enough to buy some love too. The vendor, eyeballing us like a great white shark might examine a dog-paddling fat lady, was on Noom’s side. He wanted 9,500 baht for the ugly thing. That served as a lesson that my newest crush had expensive tastes. It also served as a lesson that Noom’s newest ATM account had a low daily withdrawal limit.
That trip to Chatuchak also inaugurated our reliance on Google to provide the English that Noom lacked. Not that it would be the Thai that my brain refuses to acknowledge. In either case, when Noom can’t come up with the English word for the subject at hand, we turn to Google Images. And after a series of not very helpful hints, usually a photo will come up for our Eureka moment. “Thailand penis head fish’ as a search phrase offers some enjoyable results. It also provided a photo of the Hua Luo Han, or Flower Horn fish, a grotesque gargoyle-like headed product of a Frankensteinian experiment out of Malaysia, which are quite popular among Thailand’s hi-so community for several reasons. One of which is that you can mutate your own fish via a range of food products that supposedly improves certain characteristics of your fish.
Since we’d just made that purchase, I had to ask. “What food we buy for?”
“It make him red,” Noom replied as though that was obviously a good thing. Huh. I considered showing him how easy it was to turn something red, but kept my pants buttoned instead. Then Google informed me the locals also believe that rubbing the creature’s hump – the tumor-like protuberance on its head that can also be further mutated with the right food – brings good luck. And my hand reached for my zipper once again.
But Wait! There’s more! The fish has a series of dark spots running along its flank that resemble Chinese calligraphy – four-digit numbers to be exact. An oft repeated claim is that an unnamed woman from an unidentified country won $1 million at the lottery by playing the numbers displayed on her fish. So Noom’s affection for the fish may have more to do with his love of money more than his love of animals. And as for that fish at the weekend market’s affection for Noom, the species is known to be exceedingly aggressive and belligerent. When they return a kiss they are not acting out of love, they are attacking. Not unlike an encounter with a ladyboy on Sukhumvit. That’s what happens when your identity comes from a laboratory and men in white coats.
So at first brush I wasn’t that surprised when discussing one of my family members I mentioned my brother owned a fighting cock and Noom’s attention levels spiked as mine tends to do when seeing his early morning member. I assumed it was my use of the word cock. And then figured it was his love of animals that was at work. But instead it was the Asian in him; in SE Asia cock fighting always means gambling. If there is one thing Noom loves more than animals, it’s baht. Throw in the opportunity of scoring a win against his most recent favorite farang and you’ve got an unbeatable combination. Noom is rather fond of eating too. And since a good cockfight usually means at least one of the competitors is gonna end up on the barbeque . . .
Considering the things the tourist board doesn’t seem to mind the kingdom being known for, you’d think cockfighting would get more press. In fact, since it would bring in tourist dollars, I’m surprised there aren’t a few cockfighting rings in Patpong. But then I guess the ladyboys have that venue already sewed up. But if you know the right Thai, not far from Patpong, down a dark soi or two, come Saturday night the cockfights are on. And if you know the right Thai, with his bloodlust raised to new levels, later than night flush with the evening’s winnings you can become a participant in your own version of cockfighting too.
Cockfights are not for the squeamish. Or for those who love animals. Or for those who don’t love rot-gut, home-brewed whiskey. Gambling and being surrounded by sweaty, brown skinned men – the type you’d not normally be willing to turn your back to – is part of the experience too. And when money changes hands and too much of it is ending up in your palm, things can get a bit dicey. But hey, you only live once. And that barbeque really hits the spot. The post fight show wasn’t bad either. It didn’t involve a barbeque, but lots of meat was devoured nonetheless.
But when you are dealing with a self-identified straight man, all things lead back to fish. And while the peaceful tranquility of a Buddhist wat is not a place you’d usually associate with the human variety (women being unclean and all that jazz) or a bloody fight to the death, when that self-identified straight man is Noom nothing should surprise you. Animals play an important role in local Buddhists’ religious life. You can earn merit by freeing caged sparrows. Or by buying food to feed fish. Just in case you didn’t know what a feeding frenzy was. Noom introduced me to a small wat buried down a sub-soi by the Royal Barges Museum where a large, rather lethargic community of turtles gathers. The merit making activity there evidently is to find a sturdy tree branch and aggressively poke at the turtles until they are pissed off enough to put a pit bull worthy jaw clench on the branch. Good fun. Or as Noom put it, “Good eat.”
Not quite as dinner related was the small collection of Siamese fighting fish we stumbled upon at Wat Thepthidaram, displayed next to each other in a variety of used liquor bottles by the monks’ quarters. I’m not sure if that collection was about national pride in a popular aquarium fish sold throughout the world, or a good excuse for having empty liquor bottles around the wat, but knowing how much Thais love their country I pointed them out to Noom providing the species’ English name for him and then adding, “From Thailand,” just in case he didn’t know that’s basically what Siamese means.
He knew. And then just in case I didn’t know what Siamese fighting fish were all about, promptly dumped one into its neighbor’s bottle and said, “Dey fight.” And then just as promptly claimed, “I get red,” while holding his palm out, ready for the largesse his love of animals would soon be bringing him. He lost. And there wasn’t enough left of the aquatic combatant to even serve as an appetizer. No problemo. I gave Noom a chance to win back his wager that night with another round of cockfighting.
Fortunately, since I’m not a fan of pussy even if Noom is, we’ve never had to delve into the world of Siamese cats. In fact, I can’t remember ever running across a member of that breed in Thailand. Unless it showed up on my dinner plate one night and I didn’t know it. But then I’ve never actually gone into Patpong’s infamous Super Pussy bar, so ya never know. But we did run into a clue that might make Noom’s penis/vagina ratio thingy make more sense on our first visit to Wat Rong Khun (the White Wat) just outside of Chiang Rai. There are fish there too (the aquatic variety). They’re white. ‘Cuz when you hit on a good theme there’s no good reason to not use it to death. But as much of an animal lover as Noom is, when playing tourist souvenirs are a bigger draw. So we spent as much time in the wat’s gift shop as we had checking out the temple.
The wat is the brainchild of a famous local artist, Chalermchai Kositpipat, and not surprisingly the gift shop is filled with lots of his work. I’m sure buying a piece of his art is considered a merit making activity. And as the gift shop is filled with lots of his work, the pathway leading into the wat is filled with lots of his anger, as he is usually on hand, bull horn to mouth, screaming at visitors to move it along. Noom had his heart set on using my wallet to buy a piece or two of Chalermchai’s artwork to have autographed. Since we’d established years earlier that Noom’s favorite ATM had a low daily withdrawal limit, he settled on a few postcards instead of the gold framed original oil painting he’d been eyeballing.
He selected a colorful painting of the Buddha for me. And then found a reproduction of the painting he really wanted for himself. It was the avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu in the form of a fish. Or what I would call a merman. With muscles. It seemed even when dealing with fish, Noom preferred a masculine version. So who knows. That postcard didn’t spike his blood pressure levels quite as much as our previous encounters with Thailand’s animal kingdom had, but we did enjoy another round of cockfighting back in our hotel room that night.
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