Sabai, Sabai (In The Jungles of Thailand)

Now I can cross "sleeping in a hut in the Jungle" off my list, though admittedly, I never thought I'd find that one on the top of my "to do!" With one week left in the semester, I set off for Koh Samui, Thailand. I stayed at a place called "The Jungle Club," which came highly recommended to me by my friend, Tai, (ironically). So for something like $15 Sing a night, I stayed in a bug-infested hut. But what an experience, and one I will surely never forget! Since I didn't choose to upgrade to a Bungalow or a Villa, with my hut came cold water and a toilet that doesn't flush. Instead, there's a giant bucket of water next to the toilet, and a pail to scoop the water from the bucket to the toilet. All toilet paper gets thrown in the wastebasket.

I was picked up at the airport by "Adam," the driver who was hired by The Jungle Club. Adam asked me if I wanted to listen to "American Music" so he put on Bob Marley, and later commented that this was his only CD. (Interestingly, I continued to hear Bob Marley every where I went on the island.) But Adam could only take me so far, because The Jungle Club is at the top of a very tall, steep, windy, narrow and rocky mountain, and regular cars can't drive up that way. And I mean very rocky...if there is anything like turbulence in a car, this was it! So I was met at the bottom of this hill by Jake (who works at The Jungle Club) and his pick up truck. (Jake, interestingly, had Red Hot Chili Peppers playing in the car, I later burned him a few CDs to add to his collection.)

Jake took me to the restaurant/bar area of the Jungle Club, where I was greeted by the owner and the bartender, who mixed me a drink. Jungle Club has the feel immediately upon arrival that you've known these people you're whole life: it's a very fun and casual feel.

The next day, I woke up and had breakfast. It was very windy, but it did not rain. Now that it was daylight, I could see the incredible panoramic view. If anything, this place was worth coming to just to wake up to that: probably one of the most gorgeous spots in the world! I relaxed in an open hut that hangs over the edge of the cliff and got several hours of work done, before moving on to the pool side lounge chairs, which also hosted a beautiful view of the sea, where I got more work done. I'm writing a play (or attempting to, anyway) on the life of Robert Capa, the late Hungarian photojournalist, so that's what I was working on in Thailand.

One may wonder how I can bare to do work on my "holiday," but this wasn't really a "holiday" for me, it was more of an escape, so that I could get work done...and see some new terrain while I'm at it.

The guys who work at the Jungle Club were all amazed that I was there alone. I just smile and say, "I'm a free spirit...an adventurer!" but I do see their point. This is definitely not a place I would recommend going alone...oh, it's perfectly safe, but it's really a place for a romantic getaway...like where couples go in the heat of their passion to consummate their love....or where you'd spend your honeymoon (in that case, I would splurge on a villa!)...and I will admit, that after my first day of just writing, I thought I'd either be bored or lonely by the end of the trip, but boy was I wrong.

After getting my work done, I headed into town. I had three hours to explore, so I decided to go Christmas shopping. Somehow I managed to go through the budget I'd set aside for shopping in about an hour. (This is one of those places where you can barter, and you know how much I love to barter!) I wont tell you what I bought, that would just spoil the surprise(s)!

I must say, though, it got annoying after awhile being stopped on every street corner by men selling things: "Where you from?" They'd automatically ask. "This your first day here." "You alone?" "Where you staying?" (Don't worry Mom, I didn't give up that information...) It got really annoying. One guy chased me down the street after I told him I didn't want him to make me an Armani knockoff, saying, "You're so beautiful...! You come back tonight?" (No Mom, I didn't come back that night...or ever.) One guy kept insisting I was Scandinavian. "You're not Russian?" He said, seemingly surprised. Often people ask me if I'm Australian, but that's probably because Australia is so close and there are plenty of Aussie tourists around.

Anywho, after my shopping extravaganza, I stopped off at a Hawker-like place and had some dinner.

I spent my last hour getting a Thai Massage, for $200 Bat. (which, in USD is exactly $5.62...my cheapest massage yet, and possibly the best!) In a Thai massage, they hit every nook and cranny, and they don't just massage you, they stretch your muscles. I felt so relaxed afterwards!

I then headed back to the Jungle Club, this time on the back of the pickup truck...which was exhilarating (if you could properly balance yourself so that you don't fly off and tumble into the jungle)!

I hung out at the restaurant/bar for the rest of the evening, talking to the other guests. One of the guests, Mel, had been in Koh SamuiNikoli and Angela, who are living in Bangkok and were holidaying in Koh Samui. Angela teaches English in Bangkok, and Nikoli is a chef, hoping to open up his own bar.
Finally, there was James, who wasn't a guest per se, but he frequents the Jungle Club for the cocktails and the view. James is originally from New Zealand, spent most of his life in London, and for the past two years has made Koh Samui his home. He runs a Travel Agency. I ended up drinking for free for most of the weekend. (Again, they don't get many single ladies there, so they were especially nice to me.)

On my third day in Thailand, I woke up to the sounds of rain pouring down upon my thatched roof, (it is Monsoon season, after all!) so I stayed in bed, hoping the roof wouldn't collapse. I wasn't sure how the rain wasn't seeping through the walls of my hut yet, especially since the bathroom roof was partially open-air. I took a quick shower and emerged out of my hut when it had stopped raining. I had the "American Breakfast" and joined Nikoli and Angela for their breakfast.

I then went into town (riding on the back of the pickup truck again) and ended up spending the day with a British couple, Dan and Laura. (The funny thing is, we all realized by the end of the day, that we never formally introduced ourselves, so they didn't know my name, and I didn't know theirs! Dan told me later that he commented to his girlfriend, "Did we just buy a drink for someone who's name we don't know?!" Hah.) Anywho, we went into Chaweng, one of the main towns in Koh Samui, and the three of us headed to the beach. We walked along the entirety of the beach (for the most part), and stopped along the way to have a drink at a beach-side cafe. We then parted ways for a few hours, and I went to another beach-side cafe to get some more writing done, which was surprisingly successful on my part.

After about an hour or so, I decided to explore some more of the town, and prevented myself from doing any more shopping (after all, I had practically gotten what I could out of the marketplace already)! I went back to my favorite Thai Massage place, had another massage, and got a pedicure/foot scrub on top of that. Delightful.

I soon realized I was running late to meet back up with Dan/Laura (or "the British couple, as they were to me at that point) at a previously designated hot-spot. I haul-tailed it to Awkwa, a trendy coffee shop in town, where we were to meet for a drink and then meet our ride back to the Jungle Club.

The story of how Dan and Laura met was quite amazing. Dan's a police officer in London in the Murder Unit. Apparently, someone in Laura's family was unfortunately murdered, "and then I slept with the guy who was investigating the case," quips Laura. I don't know, this could be a movie...oh wait, it sounds a little bit like "Sea of Love," doesn't it? Either way, it's a great story...of sorts.

That evening, the three of us went to a Thai Boxing Match, thanks to Jake, who drove us there. Obviously, a new experience for me, it was exciting to watch. There were about seven or eight matches in the night, mostly young guys--like 10 or 11 to about 19 or 20, I'd guess. Dan, Jake, and I placed bets with each other on each match, mostly 20bat bets. I came out $160 Bat on top!

The next, and last, day at Jungle Club, I took pretty easy. I had breakfast, rested in the hammock, talked with some guests and pretty much chilled out. I played cards with Dan and Laura (Trumps, a new one for me) and it was fun. I bid farewell and at about 2:30 (Thai Time, as they say, which is always later than they say it will be) I left for the airport.

The Koh Samui airport is really nice. Small, with a thatched roof, but it has a stretch of outdoor shopping that sort of resembles the Promenade Shops in Saucan Valley (or maybe I'm just delirious and long for home again). At the gate, they have tables and chairs set up and a complimentary food/drink station, where you can get hot chocolate, juice, or coffee/tea, etc and danishes. It was quite nice! I watched the end of the Manchester United match before boarding my flight back to Singapore.

One week left. Time to finish up my scripts and start packing! See you in (less than) a week!

I'll Be Home For Christmas

I am so excited to be coming home in less than two weeks! It’s funny, over here, I feel like I’m at Summer Camp (and it doesn’t help that my campus makes it look like we’re at camp!). You know that feeling when you go away to camp as a kid, and the only thing that gets you through it is the thought of returning home? That’s how I feel here. Like at tennis camp; exhausting but strengthening, a love and a dread all at once. But you know, at the end of the few camp weeks, you’ll be back home.

It’s been four months, and it’s not summer camp, it’s grad school. And I’m coming home after a series of character building tests—both written and real.

I started this semester without a place to live. I was going to class with all my belongings! Now I’m living in a five room flat, not a Westerner in sight.

Then there’s that fatal day which all grad students face when they realize that maybe they only got where they are by some stroke of luck and maybe we’re not really as good as we thought we were, and maybe we really shouldn’t even be here! And you start to ask yourself why are you here? Is it some sort of mistake?… but you get through it, by biting your tongue and fighting back tears and saying, “it’s okay, I’ll take it one day at a time…” … “or… I could just quit.”

But you didn’t quit. And four months later, you’ve been in four other countries you never would have been in if you had quit, and you’ve written forty-four blog posts about your adventures abroad and you know what? People read it! Your friends and family and even some of their friends and family even notice when you haven’t posted, which is some sort of sign that, grad school or not, you’ve become a writer!

And as I sit on the plane home I’m sure I’ll reflect. And I’ll smile because I’ll know that I handed in a draft of a feature-length screenplay—that somehow, in the last four months, a girl who’s never written a word of a screenplay has all of a sudden written a movie. And I can smile because, the debut of my ten-minute play went without a hitch, and they laughed, the audience laughed, a lot. They laughed with me at, (in the words of my good friend Stuart), “the play they couldn’t kill.”

Sure, I will continue to struggle with being halfway around the world; away from my family, my friends, my comfort zones. I’ll grapple over this demanding, rigorous, program, but in the end I’ll know, that, grad school or not, I am a writer.
And with grad school, I can become a better writer, a more disciplined writer, a more informed writer, and a writer with my own unique experiences to bring alive.

In two weeks, the hardest part of grad school will be over: the first semester. And baby, I’m comin’ home!

The Story of the Biggest Bug in the world!

I have never been so freaked out in my life. Okay I exaggerate, but when it comes to bugs, I have never been so freaked out. Hey, you know me, I catch bugs when everyone else freaks out over them and sets them free (I did learn from the best). But tonight was different.

I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when out of nowhere (well, presumably out of the window) this GIANT kamikaze-like-bug shoots into my room and it's GiNORMoUS!

AND it flies!

My heart was beating faster than i think it's ever beat before...even faster than that time when I was trapped in the embrace of Barrack Obama...

I'm not one to shy away from bugs (or Presidential candidates...), but i ran out of my room so fast..so fast I would have beaten Lightening in a 50 yard dash.

I was ready to sleep on my couch.

Finally, I manned up and went back in my room,
and picked up a hat in one hand,
and a tennis racket in the other.

And then! I saw the bug fly behind my bed,

My worst fear flashed before my very eyes,

This bug, this bugger, in my bed.

That's when I lost control.

Seriously. I lost my mind.

I started tearing apart my room.

I kept swinging the racket at the empty air,
swatting at the curtain where this creature had flown.

But there was no sign of the bug.

I wondered if I imagined the whole thing,
was I really that delirious?

I stripped my bed of all it's pillows, it's blankets,
I threw the mattress to the floor.
I MOVED the entire bed away from the wall,
screaming the whole time:
"You stupid animal, I know you're in here!"
"Where are you, you bugger, show yourself!"
and so on and so forth as I'm swatting my tennis racket like a maniac!

No bug.

I took the sheets off the mattress, which was now laying on the floor on the other side of the room. I shook out the sheets to make sure it wasn't hiding amidst the cotton.

Nothing.

I stood in the center of my torn up room, my feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor. I was standing guard, racket in hand, hat in the other.

Seconds went by, minutes.

No bug.

and THEN

there it was, ever so calmly crawling up my wall.

I just stood there, praying it would fly out the window before it could fly into my face and poke my eyes out.

Breathing heavily, I watched and waited.

It started crawling towards the other window...the closed window.

"no, no, no." I silently prayed to myself for this bug to get out of my life.

It finally turned it's course and headed towards the open window.
"Almost there, almost there little bugger..."

It climbed to the edge of the window, as if it were deciding whether to stay in or go out. With time, it made it to the other side of the window, but I was nervous, because it had yet to fly away.

I slowly and carefully creeped up to the window, using my hat as a shield, I quietly closed it tight.

And that is the last time I open my windows again!

The End.

* After much consideration, the authors of this piece investigated further into the origin of this bug. Here's what we found:

Name: Asian Cockroach



Status: At dusk, the Asian roach becomes very active and adults are attracted to light reflected off light-colored walls, doorways and windows. This roach is capable of sustained fly for a distance of 150 feet. They then actively try to enter the home where they rest on lighted walls. When lights are turned off (as residents of the home leave a room,) the cockroaches will follow to the next lighted room. Thus, many residents believe that these roaches are attacking them -- but they are not.
The natural habitat and flying abilities of these pests make them rather difficult to exterminate. The elimination (or control) of these bugs will be discussed in greater detail in the Roach Elimination section of this article.

To learn more, visit http://www.pestproducts.com/asian_cockroach.htm

Worlds Collide

On a warm Saturday night, not too long ago, I set out for a night on the town. I had recently met some GW Alumni living abroad in Singapore, and we planned to hang out. So, on this one Saturday, not too long ago, after a few missed phone calls, we made just that happen. I was to meet Sean* and his buddies at Emerald Hill (an alley off of Orchard Road that hosts a number of outdoor pubs, a popular hang out).

I called up my friend, Paloma, a first year film student at NYU, originally from New Mexico, and she readily agreed to accompany me. Coincidentally, Paloma had just finished production for a second year film student, and their after party was at Emerald Hill. Paloma and I decided to meet my GW acquaintance first, and then continue on to meet up with the NYU crowd.

We met Sean at a bar, Ice Cold (what a dumb name for a bar), and had a drink. I was delighted to see that this random Singapore bar sells Magners, my drink of choice when in London! I enjoyed talking to Sean and his girlfriend, who were both eager to hear about film school and the play I was debuting the next weekend. They had said on multiple occasions that they would definitely attend the ten minute play festival, and looking forward to seeing my Ikea comedy.

Meanwhile, I struck up a conversation with Chet,* a friend and colleague of Sean’s. Apparently, they both work as Federal Intelligence Agents for the U.S. Navy here in Singapore. Chet reminded me of Jesse, an AirForce guy I knew and liked while working at Gordon Biersch, so I enjoyed the interactions, purely based on nostalgia. After about a half an hour or so, I bid the boys adieu and moved on to NYU.

The NYU kids were just two bars down, at their favorite hangout, Bar 5. (Most liked for its 1 for 1 drink specials and its rustic feel.) Paloma and I found the crew upstairs, playing pool and having a good time. After about another half hour or so, Paloma and I decided to say farewell and head off in search of food.

An hour later, returning from our food and conversation, about to turn in for the night, we ran into Delila,* the girlfriend of one Tad* (one of our NYU buddies), looking visibly upset, and being comforted by Drew,* another NYU buddy. (Interestingly, Delila was a classmate of mine at GW as well, but she transferred after two years.)

Delila and Tad explained that our friends who were playing pool got in a fight and then ran for their lives. Delila was concerned because Tad, who wasn’t involved in the fight, was still at the bar, and she didn’t know what was happening. She was worried that the cops were called and that he’d be forced to give his name and information and she didn’t want him doing anything stupid. She seemed incredibly scared and upset and they didn’t want to go back to the bar. I suggested, that since Paloma and I hadn’t been there for the fight, that we could go back and make sure that Tad, et al, were okay, and we’d get him out of there safely.

So we go back to #5 and up the stairs and sure enough there is Tad who is surrounded by a mob of angry people. I immediately notice that it is the same group I had met at the bar earlier, the GW alumni and his friends. I hang back in order to observe the situation. After a few minutes, the GW gang leaves, and as they pass, I notice that Sean’s face is all bloody. As he sees me he says, in a rather paranoid tone of voice might I add, “Stephanie, you’ve got to get us out of here.” (To this day, I still don’t know what that means!) I basically said, “sorry, I can’t really help you” as I thought to myself, “why don’t you just walk out the door, I’m sure that’s the easiest way out of this place…” Meanwhile, Tad has been taken by what looks like a bouncer to a back corner in the bar. There is a manager there, questioning him. He’s right near the pool table, so I say, “Paloma, come on, we’re going to play pool.” What I was really doing was positioning myself so that I could hear the conversation with the manager, and make sure Tad was okay. In the process, I ended up playing the best pool game of my life, sinking about 6 balls in a row. I cleared the table before Paloma even got a shot! Tad was basically saying to the manager, “Look, if I wanted to cause trouble I wouldn’t have stayed, I’m here now, aren’t I?” He gave the manager his phone number and name, but not the name of the two who fled. Eventually, we followed Tad out.

But Sean and his crew were waiting for us outside. Angry. Being in a position where I knew both parties, and both parties saw me as a friend, so to speak, I decided to try to appease the situation. At first, I talked to Sean’s girlfriend, to try to assess what happened. She was basically saying, “we’re going to find those guys and call the cops.” She asked me if I knew them. I basically plead the fifth, saying, “I’m just here to make sure my friend Tad, who I understand wasn’t involved, get out of here safely. That’s all. I wasn’t here to see what happened our who did what.” Etc, etc. Then I talked to Chet, the guy who was hitting on me earlier. I basically was like, “look, this wasn’t Tad’s fault, try to get your friend to leave him alone.”

I mean, what it boiled down to was this: it was a bar fight. Yeah, bar fights suck, but you know what? If we were in NY or DC, the person would be thrown out of the bar, probably asked to never come back, maybe get a warning from the cops, a fine, I don’t know. But this is Singapore. If my friends had been arrested that night, they would have been jailed or exported, and not back at NYU TischAsia.

Sean was still harassing Tad to the point where Tad was near tears, when Sean proclaimed that Tad had a duty to his country, and implied, that by not giving the names of his friends, Tad was committing some sort of high crime to his country. In an impassioned speech, Tad proclaimed that it was not fair of him to compare a stupid drunken bar fight to being unpatriotic, or whatnot. “I’m twenty-three years old. Twenty-three, and I have a friend being sent to Iraq next week, and you want to bring this to that level?’ We eventually got Tad out of there, alive, but it was after a long night of rationalizing and de-rationalizing.

I don’t know what happened in that bar when I left for dinner. Apparently, Sean came upstairs alone and threatened Joe* (one of the NYU guys playing pool), and Joe, who’s a boxer, punched him three times in rapid succession, according to witnesses it was out of self defense. But the next three times, which temporarily knocked out Sean, was probably not as warranted. What I don’t know is why any of this happened, but what I can’t get over is that those GW guys were only in the bar because that’s where I went after I left them, and my two worlds—GWU and NYU—literally, collided.


*Note: for purposes of this blog post, the names of several of the characters have been changed.

A Rationed Turkey Day

Celebrating Thanksgiving in Singapore doesn’t feel quite the same. Instead of Columbus Day and Veterans Day, we here at TischAsia get school holidays for Hari Raya Puasa (the end of Ramadan, the Muslim fasting period) and Deepavali (Hindu New Year) and Chinese New Year (self explanatory). But Thanksgiving means nothing in South East Asia, except to a few Expats who use it as an excuse to throw a party. (I went to the movies with my friends Stuart and Andrew the weekend before, and found myself at a “Thanksgiving” party, afterwards, at their friend’s house. It seems like a lot of Expats throw various Thanksgiving parties throughout the weekend before and after Thanksgiving, which is interesting, because when I think of Thanksgiving, I think of one day: the actual Turkey Day itself, Thursday. But in Singapore, Thanksgiving, for obvious reasons, is a regular workday.

NYU TischAsia was supposed to be closed on Thanksgiving Day, in honor of Turkeys all over the world, but instead, our new Artistic Director, Mister Oliver Stone, decided to make this his first visit to campus that day. Not about to refuse such an honor, TischAsia decided to stay open for Thanksgiving. Turkey Day felt like a regular school day, except not so regular, because we were in the presence of the man who created Scarface, JFK, Nixon, Platoon, Born on the Fourth of July, Talk Radio, Wall Street, Natural Born Killers, World Trade Center, Midnight Express, and the newly released W. Mr. Stone held three workshops throughout the week; a writing workshop based on his script Midnight Express; a directing workshop, based on his script, Talk Radio; and he talked about how to break into the Entertainment Industry on the third day. It was interesting to learn about Mr. Stone and his movies, many of which I hadn’t seen before, and to see first hand that in order to become a successful three time Academy Award winner, one has to work their tail off. Mr. Stone wrote ten scripts and twenty treatments before selling his first script (Midnight Express). I won’t say anything more about the man himself: you’ll have to ask me that in private.

To make up for the fact that we had to be at school on Thanksgiving, NYU held a Thanksgiving dinner that evening. Gathered around with about 100 of our closest friends and faculty (and the plus ones), we squeezed into our canteen to share a meal of all the traditional fixings: mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and of course, rationed turkey. I stayed until the wee small hours of the morning talking politics and film with my beloved writing chair, Richard, and fellow classmate Mansita, along with a few others. I felt like I was at film school. Oh wait, I am! (Can somebody please tell me how that happened?)

In short, Thanksgiving was great, but just not the same as a good ole Racines-Gardner Family Thanksgiving. I couldn’t help but talk the night away about my family traditions and what crazy things one would expect from sharing a meal with the Gardner clan!

Until next time…