YaTingPom wrote: ↑Mon Sep 30, 2019 12:20 pm
PSD_Kiwi wrote: ↑Sun Sep 29, 2019 12:19 pm
I personally love getting away to the provinces for a week or so every now and then, disconnect from the world and just go off grid, chill out in a hammock being constantly laced with cold cans of beer and food, outdoor cooking on the fire old school, swimming and fishing in the rivers, helping out with the odd construction projects, wandering and been welcomed into strangers' homes to share beers and food, lack of traffic, early nights/early mornings, sleeping on the floor on a reed mat under a mozzie net (surprisingly good for my back), etc, etc...
Your job when you’re away must be hellish.
Anyone who enjoys the provinces, and I’m talking wooden shacks, outside cooking on pots, dirt floors, no AC, no fans (where the fuck have the fans gone!), no fridges, ice in beer (Australians love that so I’ll assume it’s your thing too), mosquitoes, flys and other things that bite, listening to the family all talking at once with a mouth full of food - there’s at least two who SHOUT when talking normally - countless visits to Wats - standing in a land giving rice to monks (done it. Twice), burning countless incense sticks and placing in the correct pot - two at a time - whilst trying not to get burnt by yours and other people’s, getting numb legs from sitting for so long ‘don’t point your feet at any religious item’ including monks, don’t say ‘Hello’, take your shoes off and then try and find the fuckers after 200 people have walked and kicked them about along with another 200 pairs (they can only go in that entrance and out the other), giving money to everyone who turns up, ‘Who are? Aren’t you the dude who owns the shop? Fine here’s 1000r for “being old” and not dying. Congratulations”, being blasted by blown speakers from chants. “What are they saying exactly?” I ask “Don’t know. Talking monk language” Really. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t exist and if it does it’s gibberish, but I get it. It’s a blessing and I’m down with that etc etc. “what’s this ‘donation for?” I ask “Oh they building a new building and if you donate they will write your name on a wall”.
“Why do the people who seem to be in charge all drive new Lexus or, the favorite, Ford Rangers in white?” I ask “Because they’re rich”, “But they don’t work?” >death stare<
But I did the things that were asked and did my blessings and preyed for the people’s I wanted to be dead (apparently that’s not how it works but one can try) and handed my wife $100s which they kindly change for us and said hello (in Khmer) to 100s of people and smiled at all the toothless old people in white, who smiled back probably because they knew they’d get some dosh.
So. I just about tolerate one holiday here a year and go along with all the guff.
My wife asked, “Don’t you prey or give blessing to your god?” I said “Not since school at the Harvest Festival where ‘we’ would donate tins of food we didn’t want. Never knew where it went because we were poor as anyone else” “Barang not poor” “In comparison no but we had an outside toilet and no heating and we didn’t own a car” >blank stare< followed by <death stare< “Then you’re not poor because you had a moto and toilet”.
Going home soon. Yey.