In Asia, Bigger Often Is Better

I regularly dip in and out of Channel V, Asia’s answer to MTV, and have noticed what seems to be a trend in Asian pop and hip-hop groups (is it still called hip-hop or am I just showing my age?). Most of them could easily form a football team as the average group contains between around fifteen members! Now, Girl’s Aloud have five members, the Sugababes three (even if they change their members more often than the guards at Buckingham Palace), the Black Eyed Peas four... I needn’t go on. With the exception of Blazing Squad, a group that proved that bigger is definitely not always better, and So Solid Crew, who had more members than anyone could ever count and who are apparently about to make a comeback, most western groups keep it to a family sized number. Asian groups prefer an extended family vibe. Perhaps it’s got something to do with the fact that many Asians love to socialise in huge groups and often organise large family gatherings. The extended family often live under one roof, or at least very close to each other. I don’t know what the reason is, but it does make for some very amusing music videos, where each member jostles for the attention of the camera. On the upside, I suppose, at least they don’t have to pay for backing singers or dancers, and they could probably fill an arena just with their own family and friends.

Expat (House)Wife

Yes, it has come to this. At the grand age of 27 I am turning into a housewife. Well, technically a flatwife I suppose, although that doesn't sound too flattering so I think I'll stick to housewife. I already cook all the dinners (other than on Sunday night, the one day of the week The Husband likes to prove his cooking prowess) and do all the washing and I would do the cleaning if we didn't have someone come in twice a week to do that. What? This is Thailand, everyone has a cleaner! Well, I have now started to iron The Husband's shirts too. I don't iron. I have never ironed, preferring the 'hang it up and hope the creases just fall out' approach. Oh, and I try not to buy things that need ironing. The Husband, of course, has lots of shirts that do need ironing and in the past he has always done it himself. This is not just because I was asserting my feminism but because he is slightly OCD when it comes to things like that. He buffed and polished his dress shoes over a period of three months prior to our wedding. His t-shirts have to be folded just so in his drawers - I recently discovered that he had been secretly taking his shirts out and re-folding them after I had put them away. The other day he re-organised the fridge as it wasn't quite up to his standards.

As I have more time than he does, I thought I'd be a good wifey and help out by ironing his shirts. As mentioned earlier, I do not like ironing at the best of times, but in 30 degree C heat, it is hell. By the end of it, I looked like I had been sat in a steam room for the past hour. And shirts are so fiddly to iron, with the sleeves and the collar and that little bit at the top of the back. It took me an hour but I did it, and was proud of myself. I was later told that my hour's worth of accidentally ironing creases into shirts and then spending twice as long ironing them out again was "passable". Well, that's fine. This Expat Wife is more than happy to leave the ironing to The Husband in future.

Food on the Go. Literally.

Walking up our road on the way to the gym this morning, I passed a man barbecuing chicken wings and pork satays on a cart attached to his moped. I saw the smoke before anything else but then, as I drew closer, a downward wind brought to me the delicious aromas of meat sizzling. My stomach growled, demanding that it be fed whatever was arousing it but I stood firm. I was on my way to the gym and not even those wonderful smells were going to tempt me. As I walked past, I glanced at the mobile BBQ and immediately wished I hadn't. It looked incredible. The chicken had been marinated and its slick bronze skin was glimmering in the sunlight. The sticky, juicy satays looked back at me, willing me to eat them. The vendor saw the glint of desire in my eyes and quickly said, "twenty baht, very good". I smiled and reluctantly shook my head. "Mai kaa," I said, "no thank you". I walked on determinedly, refusing not to be sucked in, and turned down a soi, away both in sight and smell from the BBQ cart.

Feeling proud of myself, I hummed to the song playing on my i-pod and walked up to the main road. Two minutes down the road however, I heard a tinkling, which normally indicates a food vendor trundling past, advertising his wares to anyone within earshot. It wasn't until the vendor had passed me that I realised that it was the very same BBQ cart from which I had only just torn myself away. Worst of all, he pulled in to the side of the road and stopped thirty feet ahead of me. Was he going to try his luck on me again, hoping that I wouldn't be able to refuse a second time? But no, he was merely stopping to turn the meat over - the chicken and pork was still cooking as he was riding along the road. Who says men can't do two things at once? As I walked towards the cart, I noticed that fumes from the mopeds, cars and coaches on the road were blowing all over the food. Suddenly, that barbecued meat didn't seem so appealing. This time it wasn't so difficult to walk on.

From Russia, But Not Always With Love

Before arriving in Pattaya, I'm not sure I'd ever met a Russian before. I'm sure I've seen them perform in ballets, and perhaps act in movies, but I don't think I've ever met a real flesh and blood Russian. In Pattaya, they are everywhere. If you see a Caucasian tourist here, it's a good bet that they are Russian. Pattaya seems to be a rather popular holiday destination for them. Sometimes, especially now in peak season, it feels like you are in Russia, only with better weather and food. Walking down the street, you are bombarded with their language. I say bombarded as they like to make themselves heard. I've lost count of the number of times someone has started to talk to me in Russian, assuming that I will know what they are saying. I might understand that happening in Russia, but not Thailand. Even restaurants, tour agencies and massage parlours advertise their wares in Russian.

Russians get a bad press - they're always the villains in films, memories of the Cold War still linger and there's a tendency to associate the harsh climate of the country with the people themselves. I don't want to speculate too much on whether the reality matches up to the stereotype but let's just say that they do seem to be quite a 'different' race.

Let me give you some examples. Coming out of the changing rooms at our club on Saturday, we were confronted with some rather strange behaviour by a couple of Russian girls. We had seen them arrive earlier in t-shirts and shorts but they had taken off their shirts to reveal bikini tops that really didn't leave much to the imagination, and they had rolled their shorts up so that the lower half of their buttocks were poking out. Not only that but they were taking it in turns to perform erotic poses against a tree while the other photographed them. This was all just outside the reception of the club, in full view of anyone walking past. Perhaps it is unfair to tarnish all Russians with the same brush merely based on these two girls but it doesn't seem to be an isolated occurrence. I have seen many a photograph taken in front of a seemingly innocuous backdrop - the Pattaya sign, the pier, a temple - but posed as if they were being snapped for a top shelf men's magazine.

Many of them also seem to be still stuck in the 80s and 90s, it's like 21st century fashions haven't quite reached them yet. They seem to be partial to alco-pops too. Something that is strictly a teen and university student drink in the UK seems to be a widespread phenomena across the ages in Russia. Smirnoff Ice (for the obvious reasons) and Bacardi Breezers seem to be particularly popular, at any time of the day. They also get extremely frustrated when the poor Thai staff at restaurants, bars, hotels, etc. can't understand what they're saying. Most waiting staff have come from rural Thai villages and will only just have learnt English so you can imagine how difficult it is for them being confronted by a large Russian man speaking stilted English with a heavy accent. I have trouble understanding some of them. They seem to think that everyone should understand them and start shouting when confused faces stare back at them. It's not pleasant. I saw one incident where a tiny Thai girl was sent away fighting back the tears after a Russian man shouted at her for bringing him a bottle of red wine when he asked for white.

But, there I go again, tarnishing the whole of the Russian population with the same brush. Pattaya for the Russians is like Malaga or Benidorm to the Brits. It's a cheap package destination that perhaps only a certain type of Russian might venture. Enough said.

When it Rains, it Pours

My prediction in my previous blog that it "might rain" was proved correct. It was, however, a slight underestimation of the deluge of water that fell on Pattaya that day and then again on Sunday. In the tropics there's none of that pathetic drizzle that can last all day, or even days at a time, in England. If it's going to rain, it properly rains, there's no mucking about here. And rain it did on Friday and Sunday. It began with just a few fat droplets falling from the sky, but quickly escalated into a full-blown rainstorm. The rain thundered down from the clouds and the noise was deafening. This lasted for perhaps an hour, then downsized to moderately heavy rain for a further hour before it stopped completely.

Saturday saw blue skies and sun, as did Sunday morning. It lasted just long enough for us to get a couple of hours of tennis in before we hit the showers, planning on walking to a little restaurant by the sea. When we went into the changing rooms the weather was fine - a little breezy but no hint of rain - but when we emerged twenty minutes later it had started to rain. That lasted for about fifteen minutes before clearing to allow us to sit at a table right by the sea to eat lunch (clams with chili paste and fried rice with squid - delicious). We then went for an aromatherapy oil body massage (absolute bliss) and we came out to rain-soaked pavements. It wasn't until later however that it really hammered it down. The occupants of the house across from us didn't have enough time to take their washing in from where it was hanging on their patio. It came from nowhere - it just started throwing it down and within a minute everything was soaked. The great thing about rain in Thailand though is that it isn't cold. Even the whiff of potential rain in England lowers the temperature by about five degrees C. Here it just pleasantly clears the air. And I just love that smell of rain on hot tarmac!

Wintry Weather in the Tropics

It's not your typical hot and sunny January day in Pattaya today. The sun is doing a very good job of hiding away behind a thick blanket of clouds and it's looking rather dark outside. It might just rain, which is very unusual for this time of year. When we first arrived in Pattaya, on January 6th, it was almost two months before we felt one drop of rain. It is, however, still very warm. I am sat in shorts and a strappy top, with the ceiling fan wafting mercifully cool air over me. Not that you'd know that by looking at what many of the Thais are wearing today. Dressed in jeans, jumpers and jackets, you'd think it was at least 15 degrees C cooler than it actually is. I suppose if you've lived all your life in a continually hot and humid climate, the tiniest drop in temperature would prompt you to grab your jumper from the back of the wardrobe. I'm just grateful not be sitting in front of my computer sweating and wishing I was by the pool! As long as the weather returns to being beautifully warm and sunny by tomorrow when I am due to fit in my weekly strenuous day of sunbathing, it can continue to be cloudy for the rest of the day.

Coming to Pattaya? Bring Your Earplugs

My ears have just been bombarded with noise - human voices combined with a high pitched squeal. This can only mean one thing. Yet another pick-up truck has gone past blasting out something incomprehensible from ginormous loudspeakers attached to its roof. This is by no means a rare occurrence. At least once a week a pick-up truck - the vehicle of choice for Thais that can afford more than just a moped - will crawl down the road advertising anything from Thai boxing matches to political propaganda by way of either megaphones or a recording through huge speakers. Half the time I have no idea what they are advertising as it is generally all in Thai.

The sheer volume at which these speakers are blasting out is evidenced by the fact that it sounds like someone is shouting at me through a megaphone on my balcony when in fact they are driving down the road a couple of buildings away and three stories down from our apartment. At least there is no music accompanying this one. A couple of months ago a truck drove past blaring out a recording of what sounded like a deranged woman screaming, though I think she was trying to sing. What they were supposed to be selling I have no idea, although at that moment I would have been more than happy to pay them to go away.

Like the Chinese, the Thais seem to love noise in general. They speak loudly to each other, even when they are standing right in front of the person they are addressing, and any free open-air concerts I have been (or rather subjected) to, mainly outside shopping centres in the centre of the city, have been deafeningly loud. I pity the poor people living in the city centre sometimes. At least I only have to put up with a passing pick-up truck. However annoying the noise being emitted, I know that it will be over in a couple of minutes. For now, the screeching has passed. Silence really can be golden.