Just a quick note, with more thoughts on Thai Wi-Fi yet to come. My buddy Steve and I sampled the Sheraton Krabi Beach Resort, last night, and this afternoon we have found ourselves in paradise.

Do you remember the wedding scene and the beautiful scenery from the movie “The Hangover Part 2?”  We are at that very resort, sitting under the thatched roof of a bamboo luxury bar, overlooking the sea … as jet boats, Thai taxi boats and private yachts come and go.

No doubt, this is as tranquil and scenic a locale as I have every seen. We could grow accustomed … And yes, this little seaside bar is quite luxurious and has extraordinaire Wi-Fi. The network popped up immediately and there is no password or anything required. Ha … I am pretty sure all of that is taken care of in the price for a little getaway at The Ritz-Carlton Phulay Bay. (Blogging from the Phulay Bay hotspot now, as a matter of fact …)

Phulay Bay

Did I say “Oh my!”? Ha … can I get an “Amen!”?

The people here have given us the run of the place for the most part … a guided tour in golf carts … a lemon/ginger iced drink here and there … lotus water hand towels to wipe our brow … and a 180-degree view of emerald water of Andaman Sea.

We are debating now on whether we cool off in the sea or the world class swimming pool. Tough decision … I mean both have a bar right up to the water’s edge … and a great wireless signal.

Some might merely call this a 5-Star Resort … we say 7 pings … and that is an understatement!  Excellent Wi-Fi coupled with one of the best views on the planet … beautiful people … and a couple of Texans who stumbled upon paradise.

For what more could we ask?  Perhaps a week?

Know what I sayin?

Since my arrival in Thailand, friends have been offering up suggested “soundtracks” for the visit. The most frequent, probably pretty obvious, “One Night In Bangkok.” But one friend dug a little deeper, back to the days of vinyl and mentioned “A Passage To Bangkok” by Canadian power trio Rush.

I concur.

Briefly, I quote Rush, in Ferg’s honor:

“We’re on the train to Bangkok
Aboard the Thailand express
We’ll hit the stops along the way
We only stop for the best.”

Not that you care, but the live version feature’s Neil Peart, the best drummer on the planet, doing a little asian melody/rhythm on some sort of percussion gourd … which is pretty cool.  I digress … already …

No Ferg, my schedule didn’t include a midnight Bangkok express to, but rather an afternoon train fro. The night after my buddies and I were almost crushed in the midnight madness of the 2012 Bangkok New Year’s Eve, I hopped a northbound train back to Ayutthaya, alone. Not a big thing. I typically travel alone, but I also typically have plenty of juice in my iPhone. This time, there was no good charging option at my Bangkok hotel — The Aphrodite Inn.

So as soon as I boarded, I sent out a tweet or two so that someone on the planet would know my whereabouts, just in case. Then the phone went dead. What would I do if I got lost? … or if I found myself in times of trouble? … Ha! Well, I guess I would just have to improvise. No worries. It’s all good.

It was a great ride, despite the hot afternoon and no air-conditioning. There was enough of a breeze through the open windows to make it quite comfortable. It was affordable too. The two-hour journey was about five bucks … a steal … even though there was no Wi-Fi. Well, I can’t prove that since my phone was dead … but considering the scene, I am guessing Wi-Fi was not.

Riding the train to or fro Bangkok is a must, if you want to see Thailand and if you want to see Thais. The engines seem fairly modern, but I would guess the cars are probably 30 or 40 years old. School-bus style seating. Oscillating fans jerry-rigged to the ceiling. The train is world-class people watching in a third-world setting, but comfortable enough. (At the time of this writing, I have ridden the rails six or seven times, and only once have I left the train without new friends.) The slightest little gesture, or bow, or hello … and the Thais let go a smile that will brighten the cloudiest day.)

I watched one little boy, mesmerized by something his mom was holding. Closer inspection. It was a turtle, about the size of a coffee saucer. … Never seen one of those on a train before. Ha … that would be funny if this started a trend, all the way to Hollywood and trendy stars traded in their miniature dogs/purses for turtles on the go about town … Ha! The other Thais seemed a little surprised by the turtle. The lady kept it alive on this sometimes hot train by dipping a straw into water, and then dripping drops into the snapper. I was also wonder if this was a pet, or tonight’s meal on its way back from market. TTT — Thai turtle takeout.

Don’t know if they eat turtle or not. But, I have enjoyed several bags of what look to be Lay’s potato chips, with a slightly different logo on the bag. I think it is a version of Lay’s … anywho … the chips were not BBQ as I expected. They are red chili and squid flavored. Ha … Not bad. Another reminder of home, I found Fort Worth’s own Alcon featured on the shelfs of the pharmacy, to wet my contacts, which were dryer than a turtle on a train … LOL … And there are 7-11 stores everywhere …

Ha … the day before, at the ancient palace in Bangkok, a group of Thai girls stopped me and my buddies and had our tour guy interpret. They wanted to have their photos taken with us, because we are Americans and perhaps the biggest humans they had ever seen. I of course told them we were big American movie stars … but I don’t think they believed us. I will look for the photos of American celebs. in Thailand on eBay … I digress …

Back on track … my first ride, I grabbed a padded bench next to the window, and hoped the three seats beside me would remain empty for my feet and my bags. Feet … that reminds me. As my colleagues and I arrived in Thailand, we were reminded that it is a grave offense to show someone the bottom of your foot, or to point at them with your foot. I think it is the equivalent of “flipping the bird” or “thumbing the nose” as Shakespeare would say. Anyway, I guess putting my feet in the empty chair would be a bad idea, with that in mind. But wait a second … many of the Thais put their sandaled feet in empty seats. One lady, a mom, had her child stretch his feet out to her and she sat and trimmed his toenails on the train … I took photos … Ha!)

Before the train rolled, two young Thai women sat immediately in front of me anyway. And speaking of feet — bless her heart — one of the girls had only about 1.5 of them. One leg was normal, the second was about half the length, with a tiny unused foot, that didn’t reach all the way to the floor as she sat down and placed her crutches under the seat.

Yes, I paused immediately to reflect on how I think I have it tough sometimes … I didn’t stare, but it was tempting. I gave the girls my best “Sawasdee” with Texas flare, and off we went. This young lady, physically impaired, was the embodiment of Thai nature. She had hardships. She made do. She was a friendly and outgoing, and hospitable as anyone you will meet.

This being my first ride, I was watching the printed schedule pretty closely to make sure I didn’t miss my stop. Soon, the two ladies were talking to me in a mixture of English and Thai, helping me track the depots before my destination, Ayutthaya. They were my friends by the end of the line and they gave me a cool little dragon charm. Another Thai gift I will save for long time.

On board, there are numerous vendors strolling through the cars, toting home-prepared rice and other dishes, and fruits, and semi-iced Cokes and bottled water. And the ever-present Singha beer. The vendors carry food in woven baskets and the drink vendors use second- or third-hand plastic buckets. All of them “hawk” their goods in a very nasal, repetitive banter. (If you have ever been to a baseball game at The Ballpark In Arlington, and heard the vendor who growls, “Ha-awwwwwwwwwwwwwt Da-awwwwwwgs!,” it is pretty much the same polished sales pitch.)

Outside the train, the view is beautiful and ugly.

The water from last year’s flooding has subsided, leaving the brilliant green rice paddies under the normal amount of water. The fields of course are surrounded by ridges and terraces to lock the moisture in for this thirsty grain. Only a few farmers are scattered here and there, since the crop is already underway. The ones I saw were in short shorts, straw hats and ankle-deep in mud. This ultra-traditional scene is contrasted by the farmers’ motorbikes parked here and there on the ridges between paddies. Rather than oxen, I have seen some sort of farming equipment that looks like a custom swamp buggy. No idea if it was sowing … or what.

That’s the pretty postcard. Everywhere else, there are still remnants of the flood. Trash … tons of it. Call me weird, but I really wished I could have left the train for a quick photo of one refuse pile. This dump was about the length of a football field … no, make that a soccer stadium, and the heap was about 10 feet tall. The contents — nothing but crushed porcelain toilets. Thousands … and like I said, they have already been crushed for economy of space. No idea where they came from.

Litter is everywhere … up in trees higher than my head, in ditches, piled in the median of roads, next to dwelling doors, in front of tiny cafes. One has to wonder if the trash is always this bad, flood or no flood. I don’t know, but I also assume whatever landfills exist, they have to be full, and the dumpsters also too, after such a monumental disaster.

Yet in most public places, you hardly ever see a trash can. (After carrying an empty plastic bottle for hours on New Year’s Eve, I finally tucked it safely in my buddy’s backpack when he wasn’t looking. Don’t tell him.)

Oh … and typically there are no paper towels in the restrooms, nor blowers. Drip dry! And most cafes and restaurants don’t put out napkins … But, if you order pizza delivered to your hotel, they give catsup with it.
The countryside is dotted with large villas, here and there, which I assume are the property owners. By contrast, everywhere there are shacks on stilts made of wood, bamboo, old signs, and remnants of tin, found who knows where. There are restaurants on stilts, standing just a few feet over what we will call drainage ditches, which are probably filled with sewage. Everything in the countryside is painted with dried mud. People fish directly out of the ditches. (Ha … that reminds me I saw two small alligators yesterday, one by the elephant park and one 200 feet from my beloved Rabika coffee shop, where I walk each night …)

My next train trip, a few days later, I headed north of Ayutthaya. It featured even more rice paddies … a few more factories here and there and some beautiful rugged mountainous formations in the distance, near Ban Mo, I think it was.

Riding the rails north of Ayutthaya it is much more difficult to track the progress … or my location. Most of the depots further south toward Bangkok have the names in English. That wasn’t always the case, on this trip. Thai words, when written, all look pretty much like a long, symmetrical centipede. (I think I have centipede on the brain because yesterday I shot a quick video of some creature. It looked like an earthworm, back in The States … but I’ll be darned if it didn’t raise up on legs and scurry away, rather than oozing and crawling, like a worm …)

Back on track … I mistakenly thought my destination north was the town with the Bridge On The River Kwai … the topic of World War II legend, and a great movie as well. Wrong. You see, I got off the train at Lop Buri. The bridge is actually at Kanchanaburi. Dang it! I always get my Buris mixed up. And oh, this was a good one. I didn’t realize my error until much later. As soon as I stepped off the train, there was the normal tuk-tuk attack … the taxi drivers competing for my business. There was one “middleman” a lady who spoke very little English, negotiating details for the Thai-only drivers. I told them I wanted to go to The Bridge On The River Kwai.

“Okay! Okay!” They saw my Nikon around the neck and added, “You take pictures.”

Silly me I thought they understood. I continued, “Yes, yes, photos … at bridge. Do you know … the bridge?”

The translator lady said yes, and led me to a sign with several photographs. She pointed to a photo that looked like farmland to me. I assumed the bridge was nearby … Again, she asked if I would take photos. I nodded … or probably more accurately gestured wildly.

She quoted a price of a couple of hundred both … about six U.S. dollars. Sold! I hopped in a real car instead of a tuk-tuk for once. One look and I preferred the tuk-tuk. The driver looked like he was wired on something, and the car looked like it had been hot-wired and stolen … and wrecked. The inside of the tiny Toyota was torn apart. The door would not open, the dash and console were completely ripped out, except for an under-performing air conditioner and a speedometer. This also was my first Thai driver who exhibited all the symptoms of road rage. We made it through the streets of town without killing anyone. He was also the first driver I have heard honk at other cars in this polite society. And he was a repeat offender … Soon we were whipping down a country highway. Of course we were stuck behind a slow-moving truck and the taxi kept peeking around in the other lane, hoping to pass, jutting back just in time to avoid a head on … fun, fun.

A few minutes later, we pulled off onto a dirt road. “Is this the part where I get shot in the head, for a few thousand boht, and buried in a shallow grave (if I’m lucky)?”, I thought. The dude parked in the turn row of a sunflower farm. Okay. I get it. Yes sunflowers are great for photos … But we have those back in the States, even in The Panhandle of Texas now. Where’s the confounded bridge?

On this excursion, I had lots of juice in my iPhone and Googled The BOTRK. I showed him. He acted as if he had never heard of it … But, I am oh so clever … Ha! … i started whistling the famous theme from the WWII movie … the tune the prisoners of war whistled as they marched and built the famous bridge. He looked at me like I was high on fish sauce. I am sure that now, somewhere, there is a blog by a Thai taxi driver that claims that weird Americans whistle loudly whenever they see sunflowers …

I pleaded more … I knew the word for water — “nom.” I told him the bridge of “nom.” He still thought I was crazy and drove me to even more sunflowers. There I spotted several other non-whistling tourists, photographing sunflowers. One gentleman a few hundred yards away was obviously Western. I walked over and happily introduced myself as the crazy whistling American blogger known as Ping. He was an ex-patriot Aussie, who had lived in San Francisco, before settling down in Thailand 14 years ago. He and his younger, attractive Thai wife smiled at my story, and sadly informed me I was several hundred miles from the bridge.

Best make the best of the sunflowers …

Well we did, and we visited a really cool monastery, built into the side of a huge rock formation, complete with an in-house bat colony … saw “a lake resort” (large lake with bamboo shelters on the shore, available for day rental) and more sunflowers. I fired until the barrel of the Nikon was smoking. Then I remembered that in town, near the train station, I had seen a monkey. Ha … we nearly ran the poor fellow down on the way out of town. We rushed back, and I bailed out of the cab at the shrine. It is Lop Buri’s other most famous attraction — the ancient Khmer shrine of Prang Sam Yod. The shrine is crawling with monkeys … who also have taken over the sidewalks and rooftops of the nearby businesses.

Lop Buri

And oh those crazy monkeys are pranksters. One or two will pose for you, and as you focus with your camera, a third and possibly a fourth will climb your leg and ride on your back. The first time this happened, it so felt like a rodent ran up my leg. Yes, I yelled, and yes I am glad most of the people there didn’t speak English.

I had read warnings that the monkeys are tame, but also little thieves … and I’ll be darned if one little friend didn’t fidget with my backpack for a while and then pluck the rubber band from my hair, before he lept in the air and ran away. The rubber band, little guy? Really? (I imagined him snapping it and shooting his monkey friends with it.)

On the train back to Ayutthaya, I saw probably the most unsettling thing. A poor physically impaired beggar, scooting on his bottom, with one foot tucked under him, going down the aisle in the train, dodging vendors, with one maimed, non-functional leg out in front, as if to point the way and part the crowd. So upsetting … and yes, I have read about it my entire life in the Good Book, but in Thailand I have now seen people suffering from various degrees of Leprosy. The saddest thing … it is treatable now, correct? Several of the afflicted were begging around the palace in Bangkok.

For part of the Lop Buri train ride, I had to stand. Not a big deal, when you have just seen someone who can’t. But as soon as a seat opened up, three or four Thais pointed me toward the open seat. Were they just that polite and hospitable, or ready to get my big arse out of the aisle?

Beauty and Ugliness …

Know what I saying?

War Of The Roses

On New Year’s Eve in Bangkok, my buddies and I felt a little more secure when we saw a huge police presence throughout the city, particularly in the downtown area, where — with a cast of hundreds of thousands — we would ring in 2012.

Ha! We now know that there were terrorist rumblings about a NYE plot in the city, but it fell through.

Then yesterday, I received a forwarded e-mail from my buddy Steve. He was sent a direct e-mail from The United States Embassy in Bangkok warning him that a more credible, specific threat now exists. In summary, two terrorism suspects have been tracked into Thailand and are said to be planning to target western tourists at Thai attractions.

They Got One

“Rut roh!” (Expressed in my best Thai accent.)

As my buddy Steve would say, “Good looking out!”

WAIT A SECOND! “Steve, you got a personal warning from the U.S. Embassy?” Steve said he doesn’t even know how they got his e-mail address. Well, I do … or I assume our e-mails are on the paperwork we submitted for our travel visas here. The embassy should have an accounting of pretty much every U.S. citizen in the country. OR … better yet, maybe the U.S. Embassy has been stalking Steve on Facebook and want to be his BFF (if you don’t know the abbreviation, stop here … and no it is not an acronym, officially, unless it can be pronounced as a word like NASA or SCUBA … )

Old and New

I digress …

Anyway … get this … I have been trading e-mails with who? … Yes … the U.S. Embassy in Bangkok for several days, seeking information on how a travel writer might plan a side trip to China and expedite the visa process. So, I have been in direct contact with them, and I have received NO warning whatsoever from the people who are making a pretty sweet living here in an exotic country, paid to protect my arse. Thanks guys. “Good looking out!” I mean … who’s in charge over there, Hillary Clinton?

Ha … speaking of Hillary Clinton .. timing is everything. If you are not reading @PingWiFi tweets on Twitter, I strongly advise it to all of you, my 20-some-odd readers.

Yesterday, I broke my own personal code of decency on Twitter. I dared to be politically incorrect, although I usual buffer my comments a bit. Yesterday, I had just watched a BBC (pretty much our only English-speaking news program here at our Wi-Fi-less hotel) regarding a video that is making the rounds on the Internet. The video purportedly shows a group of U.S. Marines (hu-aaah!) urinating on the remains of some dead Taliban trash.

Oh … the outrage in political correctdom!

Although I do not condone this ceremonial cleansing of the bodies, performed by our Bad Ass Boys From Company C … or whoever. I suggest “Get over it!”

Let’s just be logical for a second. These Taliban scumbags have just been killed. They probably don’t care what is going on with their former sack of Shiite remains.  (Oh … yes, even I know that Bin Laden and company ain’t Shi-ite.  But it is such a great redneck pun …)  I mean … don’t get me wrong, I don’t want either happening to me … killing or unceremonious washing. But if I had to choose one or the other … hah … sign me up for the shower.

New topic …

So anywho, yesterday I had just seen this shocking video, with the private parts and the Taliban members blurred on the footage on the BBC. And then of course — I will cut her a little (very little) slack, Hillary Clinton was at the podium condemning the actions of the U.S. Marines in question. Yes … I get it, that is what she has to do on record, considering we have many strategic allies in the Middle East. But … Ha! I bet behind closed doors, President Obama and Mrs. Clinton were probably giving Semper Fi high fives all around the Oval Office, just like they did when they finished off and took all the credit for finishing the job on Ben Laden.

Ha … Yes we buried that sack at sea, as you will recall. I bet there were more than a few Hitler mustaches painted on and other shenanigans carried out with old Ben’s body after he was exterminated. Probably a good idea to flush the evidence out at sea.

But anyway …

So back to my point, if i can remember it … Oh yes. I watched Hillary say the right things on the BBC report, and then I couldn’t take it any more. I threw caution to the wind and got on Twitter. (If you don’t have it, get Tweetdeck to trull enjoy Twitter).

My tweet went something like this. (Unlike the PingWi-Fi rambling, freeform blog, remember that tweet messages are restricted to only 140 characters …)

And I quote:
“I wouldn’t urinate on a Taliban if he was on fire & wanted me to put him ou

Then I threw in a few key hashtags to make sure more people saw it and were purposefully enraged or encouraged, depending on which side of this p..sing … er … pressing issue they might stand. (Ha! I accidentally made another off color Hillary joke … p–sing and stand in the same sentence. Ha! Yes that was over the line … apologies!) Hashtags? Oh, like #Marines #SemperFi and #Hillary Clinton

So then what happens? Later in the day after I have badmouthed the bad guys on Twitter, I hear that there is a terrorist warning — something about a plot uncovered to attack Western tourists in Bangkok.

Well guess where I am taking my big mouth today. Ha … I may have to go in disguise. Hmmm … maybe Thai tuk-tuk driver apparel? Monk in burnt orange toga? Long-haired, side-burned Wavy Gravy type … Possibly? Lady boy? … Ha … no way … But, let’s just say that I will take it under consideration and NOT wear the old earth-friendly PingWi-Fi t-shirt today in Bangkok.

Oh … great idea. Just in case any of my 20-some-odd readers are Taliban, I will use clever diversionary tactics. If you are looking for me … Well first of all just let me say I hope you get waterboarded until you learn to say the Pledge of Allegiance underwater. But anyway … If you are looking for me, Tallies. Stay away from Wi-Fi hotspots and don’t go to any of these attractions. I will not be there … really. You can trust my word.

Meanwhile, looks like Mrs. Clinton is busy in the region … in Burma, just to the north …

Hillary Does Burma

Know what I saying?

Such a beautiful, charming country … so of course the terrorists want to come here and mess with paradise …  Again, I will not be at these places …

Will not be hanging with Thai Dancers, either.

No hangin with golden goddess bling chick at palace

Ha! ... This may be my disguise

Clue: I will be with many brunettes

Lop Buri shrine monkey ... potential disguise too

Give up ... We blend in too well to be found

If you want to look for me up there, knock yourself out

Prolly be home before sun goes down

We are neither here nor there

With our shades, we are so like incognito

In the first Thailand installment of The Dirty Gig, I found myself working with guys that were over-qualified yet threw their hearts into cleaning machines with pressure washers, rags, and steel brushes … even tooth brushes. Normally, on a Dirty G, I supervise day laborers off the street. This time, “my workers” were employees of the factory itself — guys with some of the best jobs in the country … upward mobile, comfortable, well-paid … successful.

For several days, my team and several other teams hustled to just clear furniture and trash and moldy supplies from the aisles of the factory. You name it and the Thai flood waters had deposited it — whatever, wherever.

On about day three — I was tasked with training a team in the expert method and finer points of cleaning the machines … “Well what you do is you point this here spray nozzle away from yourself and toward the machine …” They listen intently … I had a translator and I am sure my sarcasm was lost in the download.

Tom With Soccer Trophy Plucked From Debris

This turned out to be one of those jobs where the best thing the supervisor could do was stay out of the way of “a machine” — the momentum of these precision workers. They divided up into teams, wired power from a diesel generator and spread out the pressure washers in three areas before I managed to pronounce one of their names correctly.

The work began quickly and for several days it was relentless … difficult … foul.

With any job, morale is something that can rise or fall with the supervisor’s tone. So, when it appeared the guys were working hard, but still a little uptight with their new American pressure washing guru, I decided to cut up with them a little. Motivation? Maybe. Manipulation? More likely … but fun for all … I think.

So, each time we lined up to re-enter the factory after a break, I would teach the guys some “‘Merican.” This was a good team we were building and it needed a good name. We, or rather I , named the team The Dallas Cowboys. (This was before the season went kaput, btw.) As we re-entered the factory we would shout out together, “Go Dallas Cowboys!” I would get fist bumps from most of them, as we walked in. I don’t think their accent was just right, but I think they were shooting for a southern drawl.

Subsequently, each day we started our breaks by lining up and repeating “What time is it?” “Beer time for The Dallas Cowboys.” This was particularly puzzling to my Thai friends at the 10 a.m. break. Ha … I am giving these guys all kinds of misinformation about the American workplace … and I don’t even drink.

But they liked this and picked up on the fact that I don’t drink and started saying, “Beer time for The Dallas Cowboys and milk, for you, Mr. Kent.”

Wiseacres!

Water Level, Above Doors

Soon I had learned a few of the multi-syllabic names … but again, trying to create some fun in the workplace and camaraderie, I started doling out nicknames. Hey … it was within my power, after all I am the pressure washing guru. I let them start calling me Ping or Kuhn Ping, instead of Mr. Kent. (See how fun I am …)

So … about these nicknames. One gentleman, shortened his name — a name that had about 10 vowels in it — to Tom. Why Tom? I don’t know … maybe I better do all the nicknames. But Tom was my new translator and a good one, so Tom it was.

Now the guy who really needed my help on his own chose a nickname based on an American term, perhaps emphasizing his prowess. Oh … and to make his new name known, he wrote it on the front of the rubber apron he was wearing to protect his clothing while he cleaned the factory machines.

“Sex Pod,” he had written unabashedly on his chest.
I am going to give him the benefit of a doubt and just guess that he meant “Sex Pot,” (isn’t that actually the term?). I think a sex pod would be something bad, involving a jalapeno pepper, and probably illegal in many states. We let it slide … well for a while … then I tried to help him and started calling him “play-uh.” Not sure he ever understood the upgrade I was trying to give him. (At the end of the job, this “play-uh” showed me his photo on the water stained organizational chart still on the wall.
He was like a ranking electrical engineer at the plant …) I guess he really was a player.

Then, enter the dragon … No wait … “Enter The Dragon” is a Bruce Lee film. One of my workers was named Jacky … and he looked a bit like one of several martial artists, so he instantly became known as “Jacky Chan.” He loved it and probably became my best new buddy out of the bunch … more on Mr. Jacky Chan later.

And who could forget Took!?! I don’t know if that was a nickname or not. I think it might have been one or perhaps the final syllable of one of those long, “family-style, all the vowels you can eat, buffet” Thailand names. But anywho, we renamed him after one of my first Thai words — Tuk-tuk (as in three-wheeled taxi). I wound what he really thought about being called the equivalent of taxi???

Rust Never Sleeps

So anyway, we had lots of fun slip sliding in slime and mud and sludge for a couple of weeks while we cleaned huge machines that produced various parts of computer components.
When we had mastered “Beer Time for the Dallas Cowboys,” it was time to turn on Thailand to some really hip American slang. I jest. Since this big idea, I have been daydreaming about this becoming the hottest selling t-shirt in Thailand … and totally taking over the country … because it is really silly and that would be so funny and ironic and absurd.

Ha … I don’t know hip terms. So, in jest, I taught “The Dallas Cowboys” to say, “What’s kickin, chicken?” ( Er … that is 2002 slang for “What’s up?” … in the event that any of you readers are even more whitebread than me.)

Yes. We would stand in formation, and everyone would repeat, “What’s kickin chicken?” Oh you should have seen the puzzled looks from the few guys who spoke a little English.

“Mr. Ping, we don’t understand. What means to kick a chicken?”

“Oh … just trust me … It is funny,” I would console them.

Of course, that is when I taught them the appropriate response to the chicken thing … “It’s all goooood!”

Yes … every day … all day … “Beer Time.” “What’s kickin?” and we added a “Howdy, y’all” toward the end of the gig.

Ha .. not to be outdown by “Sex Pod,” one worker showed up one day, proudly sporting “What’s Kickin, Chicken?” on his rubber apron. I was moved.

This could be huge, Thailand!

Yes, nicknames are always a great way to help any team bond. And if that doesn’t work, there is always self-effacing humor by the “coach.” Hey, I do what it takes, and yes on about day six of this mud wrestling assignment, the floors had finally began to clean up a bit … enough that we were all getting comfortable and perhaps careless in our steps … and less precautions with every step. Then one afternoon, I entered a room that previously had about three inches of dried up mud on the floors. My crack cleaning crew, however, had removed all the sludge … and to my surprise revealed a slick, slick stainless steel floor in one doorway.

NOPE! Didn’t see that coming. I stepped in the room and feet shot up in the air, and I landed on my back, spread eagle like a snow-angel, in lots and lots of soapy water. Drenched … I bounced back up, unhurt physically, and laughed about it. I saw the faces of several of the workers … in shock … “The flawless American pressure washing guru has fallen,” they seemed to have been thinking. They didn’t even crack a smile … More likely they were thinking “dumb-arse Texan … you no Dallas Cowboy!”

Ha … they never said a word about it, then later, I heard from several people working elsewhere in the plant that Mr. Kent had found a new way to clean up the floors.

And on and on it went. But in all seriousness … here’s the thing. These guys were some of the creme de la creme of the plant, working in nasty, menial jobs, trying to save their factory. Our assignment was to clean 10-12 of the various types of machines, — spotless — so the insurance folks and the plant management could determine if the machines were to be repaired or replaced — whichever was most economically feasible.

As we were finishing our last machine one afternoon, I looked around and saw several of the workers just standing around outside the factory door, texting, talking on cell phones, in a driveway. This was quite uncharacteristic. I decided Friday afternoons must be the same everywhere, and the guys had lost their motivation and focus … yes … just biding time until “Beer Time for The Dallas Cowboys.”

I pulled Tom aside. Diplomatically I told him that my bosses and his bosses (the client) would not look favorably on the guys just standing around. We had more work to do. Tom shook his head in agreement, and went and said a few words. The guys slowly went back to work … but soon were hard at it again.

Then Tom pulled me aside. He apologized about four times, and then let me know what was going on. At lunch, the team had overheard someone in their company’s management group say that our work was great … but that the machines were toast … and rather than replacing the machines … the factory would be closing. (I have not confirmed this … and told them I hoped it was only a rumor…)

So, there I was telling engineers and various skilled professionals to keep working … to clean more mud … to no avail, in a job they all thought to be going away. And trust me, it is not a good time to get such news in Thailand, with all of the flooded factories.

Oh my … I was just overcome … that’s all I can say. They ended the day with their heads up … and the last machine looked better than the first we cleaned. And as we lined up to leave, they all repeated …

“Beer Time for the Dallas Cowboys!”

Then they went back to their break area, and my colleagues and I went back to our table under a tree in the courtyard, to do our paperwork.

The guys had also learned that my Dirty Gig at their plant was over. And so several stopped by to shake hands and make a last parting joke.

Then Jacky Chan came over to the picnic table where I was sitting. He sat down and told me he enjoyed working together. We traded e-mail addresses, and then before he left for the last time, he opened a little plastic shopping bag. He had brought me a gift.

Again … I was about to break down. Here was a guy who lived in a country where a few hundred dollars is a monthly salary … where the city was hit with flooding for weeks … where many, many people were already out of work. It is a place where some of my workers had to ask for a day off on the weekend so they could go move out the flood debris from their own homes … In a factory that may be closing its doors … and many jobs might be killed off … In this setting, Jacking Chan brings me a gift.

I prayed that is was nothing expensive. I opened the bag and as often is the case, I think some things were lost in translation. The gift was a hand towel of some sort, embroidered with a little bear. It looked like a gift for a baby shower (back in the States) or something … My sarcastic self wanted to say “What the h… is this?” My emotional side however won this time. I took it out of the bag and just looked at it, wondering what it was.

Jacky Chan motioned that it was a towel to wipe the sweat from my brow when I work hard.

Goodbye Jackie Chan … I will hang on to this … for a long time.

Know what I sayin?

Boba-teers?

IF you know me or read the PingWi-Fi blog, you know “we luvs us some boba tea.”  Hmmm … it is pretty scarce here in Thailand … even more scarce than Wi-Fi. I finally found some boba vendors — in this case, maybe boba-teers — in Ayutthaya on the sidewalk, in the outdoor market the other day. Trouble is, you are advised NOT to drink the water here. I wonder if the the bobas — those tiny tapioca balls floating in the tea — will kill all the little beasties in the water. Hmmm? Anywho … a great example of two young entrepreneurs (pictured … nice hat). I guess this is the Asian equivalent of running a snowcone stand in the summer back, in the U.S. Ha … the kid is wearing a snowcone …

Free enterprise … a great thing.  As I gather my thoughts for this blog, I am enjoying a nice, cool, sunny Saturday morning in Thailand.  I take a walk …  For the rest of my stay in Thailand, I will have the weekends off from The Dirty Gig, so hopefully there will be lots of time to sightsee, blog, sample Wi-Fi … it what we do.

As previously blogged, the Wi-Fi at my hotel is pretty much non-existent, and I have found Wi-Fi paradise, just about a block up the highway … a cool little coffee shack called Rabika. (I have to walk along the highway to get to Rabika, which is interesing, because not only do drivers drive on the opposite side of the road here … motorcycles drive any direction they want on the shoulder … which is where I am walking.)

More on Rabika … Perfect Wi-Fi … I also reported in the blog that the baristas there laugh no matter what I say, and they don’t understand a single word I say.  So, I continue to play the game.  They say three or four sentences to me in Thai, and I act as if I understand and say “That’s what she said.” (A great line compliments of The Office.)  Well … today I have upped the ante.  Today we had English lessons at Rabika.  I am mentor.  Today, the baristas are learning to say “That” “What” “She” “Said.”  Man, I find this amusing.  Hope you do to.  I showed them the blog about Rabika.  Ha!  They liked it and I think they think I am the new owner … Everyone: “That” “What” “She” “Said.”

Oh … I have also scratched an item off my to-do list.  I have always wished I had the talent and guts to sing in public.  I have neither.  NO … I didn’t go to a kaoroke bar.  I am now singing to the baristas.  Ha … what is the song?  I am creating a tune with near-notes and everything … the lyrics? … “That’s what she said.”  I am singing in a deep, opera voice, to the tune of “Nessun Dorma” from “Tosca.” We gots culture!

I digress … anyway. Back to free enterprise.  On my walk to Rabika, I passed another coffee hut.  It is literally a hut, not just because it doesn’t offer Wi-Fi … because it is the size of a storage unit, with about as many amenities.

(Throughout the industrial area where we are working, there are even more primitive coffee huts … sometimes a mere open-air shack made of bamboo and tin, standing on stilts, over what looks like sewage and swamp water ponds … yum … I am guessing they don’t have Wi-Fi … or napkins …)

The coffee hut in the hotel parking lot serves strong coffee … but no signal to satisfy my wireless urges.  However, this morning I spied something yellow.  The coffee hut does have fresh bananas.

Yum … I luvs me some bananas too … and without too much detail, I know I am really low on potassium and fluids and stuff due to a recent 2-day bout with the local critters in the food and water … too much 411! … Anyway … they say bananas are loaded with potassium.

I entered the coffee hut and of course, first I fired up my iPhone to doublecheck for Wi-Fi.  There is a signal that shows up — the network from my hotel.  So, like I said, that means they DO NOT have Wi-Fi.

Hmmm … let’s check out these bananas.  I spared this barista and did not sing “Yes we have no bananas today.”  I didn’t even pull out my old joke where I hold the banana to my ear and say, “Hello, hello … here it’s for you,” and hand her the fruit. I held back. No time for my weak jokes … I have an impulse buy on my mind. YES, in fact, they have the daily double.  You’ll see what I mean in a second.  But first, you need to know that in Thailand, negotiating is customary.  Heck … you can even barter at some stores in the mall.  What great fun.  Well … of course in my mind, this custom should go for bananas too.  Plus, I have an angle to work …

I point to one big banana and say, “How many boht?”  The barista answers “10 boht.”  That may sound expensive, but it is about 30 cents. Oooh.  I see an opportunity.  I double check.  I hold up one finger and repeat, “One banana — 10 boht?”  She says yes.

Aha!  I have her on this one, I am thinking …  I have noticed there is a genetic mutation in the bowl.  Holy banana split, Bat Man!  There is a double banana in the bowl — two long pieces of fruit in one tight banana skin. Ha … it looks like a yellow snake that has swallowed itself.  Not sure if I have seen this back in the states.  Again, I check … yes, one banana — 10 boht, she confirms.  I then grab and hold up the two-for-one bonus banana … Ha … it occurs to me this would be a banana Siamese twin … but that is politically incorrect.  Mustn’t do that.  So, let’ say it is a co-joined nanner!  I hold it up and she smiles.  I say, “One banana — 10 boht.”

Oh she didn’t see that coming.  I have her on a technicality.  There is one banana skin, so one banana.  She will have none of it.  ”No, twenty boht,” she barks with a smile.  I say “No, you say one banana, 10 boht.”  We went back and forth like this for a while … laughing.

Finally I offer “Okay, fifteen boht.”  She looks puzzled and considers it … she thinks I have offered fifty boht, due to my language impairment (Texas accent).  Stop right there … this ain’t my first tuk-tuk ride … you can’t take advantage of me missy.  ”One banana, 10 boht.”  She agrees to disagree.  We reach a stalemate.  We need an international trade expert to sort this thing out.  So, I pass on the double decker banana.  I have had at least 30 boht worth of fun haggling with her anyway.  AND … I secretly mashed and bruised the banana with something extra, anyway, when I put it back in the bowl. Showed her … mean old greedy Thai banana barista girl!

I took the normal banana … at a fair price, I might add … and off I went to Rabika … a richer man for the experience and no longer depleted of potassium … but as some would say, “so full of it.”

Oh cool … as I am writing this blog, a pair of regulars just walked in the door at Rabika coffee.  Their names are Wanvisa and Peerapol.  I saw the gentleman (Peerapol) on my first visit here.  He wears Harley Davidson clothing head to toe.  And he is the real deal.  There are two gazillion motorbikes on the roads here, but almost all are Suzukis or Yamahas and mostly mopeds.  My new friend has offered me a ride on the back of his Harley … a real hawg.  I opted for a photo of him and the bike, which is equipped with a really sweet chrome skull on the front, I might add. (The couple are laughing because I thought they owned Rabika since I first saw them, but they are regulars … like I am back at my Starbucks in Texas.)

My friend takes a call … This is so interesting from the culture too.  When a Thai answers their cell phone, typically, they say “Hello,” in a voice that sounds very similar to ours.  Then they go into their own dialect, after that one-word greeting in English, which for a lack of a better way to describe it is very nasal and abrupt sounding … Maybe it is like Americans saying “ciao” even though they don’t speak a lick of Italian …

Peerapol and Wanvisa are my new BFFS … they gave me much honor and they gave me a tiny copper charm, which seems to be something Thais carry for events such as this.  I will treasure forever my new charm of King Naresuan. Just about to read up on old King N.

King Naresuan

Know what I sayin?

Ha … didn’t see that coming.

As it turned out, there was a domestic disturbance elsewhere in the apartment complex. A woman had fled into the parking lot, seeking help. The door kicker was a would-be good samaritan. He just happened to kick in the wrong door as he sought out the bad guy.

I wonder whose face showed the most surprise, his or mine, when the door flew open and there we sat playing Trivial Pursuit.

For many years, that took first place on my NYE list. Then came Bangkok 2012.

I’ll share the memories in a moment. Here’s how it began. My buddies and I rented a pretty sweet chauffeured van and drove over from Ayutthaya on the morning of New Year’s Eve — about a two-hour trip. Then we did what guys never do. We shopped. Yes I shelled out a few thousand boht for a new lens for my Nikon. I am told or I am at least happy believing i saved about 100 dollars U.S.

AND we hit Starbucks for the first time in Thailand. Normally that is not that big of a deal since I do “Bux” twice a day in the states … But here, I have been near caffeine free for several weeks. Yes, I was excited to fire up the dependable Starbucks free Wi-Fi too, after really poor service at my hotel in Ayutthaya.

WHAT!?!

Bangkok Bux had Wi-Fi … but not the free variety we know and expect. Other than that, EVERYTHING else at Starbucks was exactly the same. My beloved green tea frapuccino never tasted better. Oh well … I didn’t even have my laptop to blog, and we were on the move … definitely no time left in 2011 to be paying for Wi-Fi.

Ha … I have to laugh about this too. I love me some Thai food, but after several weeks of stir fry and seafood for breakfast and the other meals too, we did the unthinkable in a land known for its cuisine. We went to Sizzler and had steaks. They were pretty much … uh … awesome! One note — Sizzler didn’t have Wi-Fi, but the mall did. But I was too busy at the salad bar to tweet anyway. Get this … Sizzler is exactly like its American counterpart … except for the quail eggs at the salad bar.

Ever eat a hard boiled quail egg. Have you even seen one before? Not bad.

Hours later, we were still roaming the thousands of street market booths and dodging every kind of peddler you can imagine, when we realized midnight was near.

Our hotel was a couple of blocks away from the fireworks and concert in downtown Bangkok. So we headed back. That’s when it got interesting.

Did I mention one of my friends had visited Thailand many, many times? Well he had and therefore was an excellent tour guide. The fact that we almost got killed really was not his fault.

Earlier in the day, we saw hundreds of Bangkok police officers and military as well gearing up for the par-tay. There were not enough.

So anyway, we were making our way to our hotel — The Aphrodite Inn — on foot, when we ran into this human river of brunette people headed for downtown. Our tour guide, or someone in the group suggested we make a detour through a sidestreet to avoid the crowd.

I am on the record, specifically saying, let’s stay in the mainstream for the awesome people watching (and ease into this). NOTE to self: be more adamant when you have a hunch.

Well we slipped through the backroads, and yes we gained some ground. But when we reentered the crowd it had multiplied. It was more like a mob … just a few blocks from the stage at about 11:15 p.m.

Soon after we hopped in line, thousands of people walking, trying to get to the stage were channeled down a walkway that was about 20 feet wide. On either side of the path were 6-foot walls. Too late, we realized the stage area had no more room. But the people behind us … several thousand, didn’t realize there was a standstill. So, what did everyone do? Well they all started pushing as hard as they could.

I am not exaggerating. This was pretty scary. It really could have gotten ugly. In my head, I kept hearing the old bad-taste joke about those kids getting killed in a stampede at an American rock concert … “I’d run over you, to see The Who.”

There were four of us Americans … traveling in a group, and thank goodness we towered head and shoulders over most of the other people in this madhouse. There was nowhere to go. No way to get to the side to try to climb over the wall, and more and more pushing. Thank goodness I am not claustrophobic. A lady near me was and trust me, she was freaking out and hyperventilating, with the added excitement of a foreign language. People were passing young children over the walls to get them to safety.

OH … and the authorities … they were a lot of help. Security guards were standing on the safe side of the fence, looking over and yelling in our ears with bullhorns. More other-language excitement. I am guessing that they were saying, “Hey you stupid Americans, go the the way.”

The four of us stayed close, braced each other, took turns bearing the brunt in the back of our defensive formation and battled to stand up for about an hour. Yes, as the clock struck midnight and awesome fireworks were shooting off above, we were still in a bit of a fight for our lives.

I am exaggerating, but I am not exaggerating. Does that make sense? We were never hurt … but easily could have been crushed or trampled if even the slightest of things went wrong.

Well … travel tough or go home. We made the best of it and all had funny stories to share after we finally hopped over a wall and a shrub and escaped on a side street.

Our tour guide in front had people pulling at his belt during the struggle, as they tried to keep from being pushed over. Somewhere before midnight, his pants went down, not by his own choosing. The funniest part — being crammed in like a sardine in a can, he couldn’t even extend his arms down to pull up his own pants. (I’m guessing tighty whities … but never got a look, thank goodness.)

Oh … and my buddy Steve had a great story of Thai hospitality and helpfulness. He was carrying some goods he bought at the market, including a really cool industrial-strength laser pointer. He felt his trinkets fall out of his hands, and then saw them disappear below. Since we had other things to worry about, he wrote off the gadgets to a wild night. A few seconds later he saw a small hand rise up out of nowhere, beneath him in the scrum, holding up his shopping bag, with his merchandise inside.

“Dang. You’re good!”

Steve and I both were laughing about the biggest nut we saw in the entire stampede. Some wild, half-crazed woman squeezed into the line from one of the sides — I don’t know how — and wedged herself directly in between Steve and I. She started dancing! Now that was weird. And there was pretty much nothing we could do about it. Lucky she didn’t get crushed between us two big old Texas boys. I can’t imagine what she had on her mind.

Later … I think maybe I found out. Steve reported his new cell phone was missing from his pocket. Yes … I suspect the mystery dancer or an accomplice. If that is the case, well, that is one dangerous line of work. They earned it.

Hot, sweaty, bruised, tired and laughing about it, we slipped out of the mob sometime in 2012, regrouped and headed to the hotel. No doubt still reeling from the adrenaline, and ready to par-tay … Steve and I ventured back out and found a much kinder, gentler New Year’s celebration going full force. I will always wonder what we missed, but we have a good one to take back home with us as well.

Happy 2012!
Know what I sayin?

The first time I started a blog about Wi-Fi back in ‘03, most people thought it was pretty interesting — especially this new thing called “Wi-Fi.” So, I explored … found a hotspot here and there … shared anecdotes … blah, blah. blah.

My passion continues today — seeking out wireless and mixing in tall tales — but I admit I hear lots of naysaying. “What for? Isn’t Wi-Fi pretty much everywhere now?”

Well, let me tell you, as a service to the readers, we have in fact found a place where the Wi-Fi cup doth not runneth over.

Thailand.

More specifically, Ayutthaya — the ancient capitol … with more monasteries, temples, ancient ruins and Buddhas than you can shake a chopstick at. It’s teeming with tourists, motorcycles, computer manufacturing plants, motorcycles, automobiles plants, more motorcycles … and yet finding reliable wireless Internet here is like finding a chunk of jade, discarded from a statue, in some abandoned gravesite. (Ha … yes … it’s just like that.)

Livin Large In Tuk Tuk

But rest assured Wi-Fi, “I will find you!”

Yes … it took a bit of stalking, but I have found a Wi-Fi treasure. Hidden right under my nose.

But first, let me get this bad taste out of my mouth. My hotel has the dubious distinction of being the very worst Wi-Fi experience of my eight years of searching. (Multiply my frustration by 60 days …) Ha … The T.M. Land Hotel scores lower than places that don’t even have Wi-Fi. How is that? Well … places that don’t have Wi-Fi typically don’t claim to have it. The Land has a big Internet sign out front, and there are more T.M. Land networks that pop up … than you can shake a chopstick at … (There, I have used both chopsticks.)

Yes … all of these different networks pop up for various floors of the hotel … and if you get a little piece of printed paper with the code from the non-English speaking front desk … It is easy to get on this networks for a week … sometimes. However … the hotpots are one step above useless. I assume someone is paying for minimal bandwidth. And between all of my wireless devices, my buddies and the umpteen Japanese who kick the walls all night long in the surrounding rooms … well, we are some bandwidth mongers.

A couple of examples:

I have a new “guilty pleasure” … the drug-laced, organized crime melodrama “Breaking Bad.” Without English-speaking cable here, I can’t get that show. Or much of anything. For the first time ever, I resorted to purchasing a TV series at the iTunes store. No dice! I can leave the connection running all night and if I am lucky, I may land one episode successfully. I NEED me some Breaking Bad, fix, yo!

OK … that’s a bandwidth hog. How about simple e-mails? Yesterday i replied to someone’s e-mail with a simple smiley … you know … just a : and a ). That e-mail took about 30 seconds to process.

Can you believe this?

So … all of that ranting was the dark, dank, dusty burial chamber of my analogy. Here is the jade … or sapphire … or ruby … the hidden treasure.

A block down the busy highway from my hotel there is an Esso gas station. It has a huge half circle driveway out front. I think it must be mandatory that every motorcycle and moped in this portion of Asian pulls through that driveway. If you are on foot, btw, they will run over you in the parking lot. They are focused on the congested, fast moving road they are about to enter. They’re tricky too. Cars here, drive on the left side of the road. Scooters? They drive on both sides, with little rhyme or reason. So, look both ways … twice. I digress …

Tucked in the corner of this huge gas station parking lot is Rabika Coffee. OMG … It is so cute. It is a polished, shiny, modern, well-branded little shop … not much bigger than a food court kiosk … but so well done. There are a few tables … HA! and a tall counter that the baristas can’t even see over … a cool little zen garden with fountains and a big shade tree … I am wondering if Rabika is the “Starbucks” of this part of the world. I saw on their site that there are quite a few.
http://www.rabikacoffee.com/
So … when I am not living large, cruising the town in a three-wheeled tuk tuk … or slip sliding in sludge at The Dirty Gig … I kick back with some green tea and Wi-Fi with my new homeys at Rabika.

Let me tell you ’bout my homeys. There are three very cute Thai women who seemed to be at the place 24/7. Unlike many Thais, they don’t speak a single word of English.  I don’t even know their names, but I can say “hello” and “thank you.”  They do make a mean chai tea frappucino, however. And they quickly realized that I come in to work on the laptop.

OMG2 … The have so adopted me. I sit and type and rant … and they bring me drinks whether I pay or not. Ha! This place is going to make a big tipper out of me yet. I dropped 20 boht in their jar the other day. (Simmer down, that’s about 70 cents, but it sounds pretty fly …)

And we have great conversations. In between making drinks and constant cleaning, they walk around and sing, and call out Thai comments to each other, and I look at them and say, “That’s what she said.” (You know, the ongoing joke from The Office …and now Rabika …)

So, they are giggling and washing windows, and pointing at a motorcycle whizzing by, and I pipe in “That’s what she said.” They laugh.

Then they are laughing, and singing along with a Thai pop song, and bringing me tea and a piece of cheesecake, and I say, “That’s what she said.”

This goes on and on … amusing them almost as much as it does me.

Anywho … Rabika has saved my life. The Wi-Fi is passcode protected, but I have the hookup, yo. So, several mornings, I have walked from my hotel to Rabika to fire off some tweets and e-mails before work … before the coffee shop is even open. The stray dog that guards the place — the one who about bit my caucasian arse the first time I entered the store — now drinks from the fountain peacefully, in total zen, ignoring me as I type in the garden.

At night, the little Wi-Fi garden is dark, but has a great view of the bustling highway, the moped madness … Ha! You can even see the pink neon heart of what I think is a bar/brothel across the highway. I stay on the good side of the road and work, in the dark, after the shop closes at eight.

Well … the other night, I was about to plop down my laptop in my secret garden when I noticed this small, but white, frilly-looking exotic flower on the table (I thought).

Crap! It moved. I looked closer. It was a whitish green, huge, dangerous looking spider. I took a photo of him and thumped him as hard as I could, probably sending him spiraling into the path of a moped, going the wrong way. I wonder how many nights he had been reading my Facebook updates over my shoulder.

i digress …

Rabika has some of the nicest baristas who laugh at your jokes they don’t understand, great drinks and deserts and free, plentiful bandwidth — 6 pings.

Know what I sayin?

When I signed up to help with flooding recovery in Thailand, my thoughts immediately went to the bright lights of Bangkok — the modern, international city and the well-known seamy dark side as well — an adventure … mystique.

However, as I got more details, my assignment was actually in Ayutthaya City, an hour and a half north of Bangkok. Today, Ayutthaya is a bustling, sprawling mid-sized city, crawling with a million motorbikes and almost as many factories … major electronics and automotive players that opened shop here for an affordable, skilled work force and a fairly central location for distribution purposes.

These companies obviously didn’t foresee the events of 2011 — flooding from July to December, with damages estimated at $45 billion. During the annual rainy season, the Chao Phraya and Mekong river basins swelled well beyond capacity. In addition, one theory is that a bureaucratic decision manipulated the water’s flow at the dams in an attempt to prevent major flooding in Bangkok down river. You might say Ayutthaya took one for the team … a big one … the fourth costliest disaster recorded. Oh … and by the way, Thailand is the world’s leading exporter of rice. Pick up The Journal or one of the other financial papers to see estimates of worldwide economic impact.
So, hundreds of factories and businesses sat under nine feet of water or more, for weeks on end.

The Dirty Gig — the mission we chose to accept — is a grimy, sludge-filled waterworld of slime. Near one of our hotels, the locals are said to have seen and killed a large alligator, a flood borne visitor. In my current location — a manufacturing plant — we have been warned of cobras around the perimeter … eek!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_Cobra

My duties have taken me to a couple of factories, first supervising computer factory workers as they pressure wash and try to save their company. Now, I have moved to a manufacturing company where I am dismantling, cleaning and reassembling large cabinets with multiple hard drives. Yes … more than a little nervous about where all those coiled wires go … And you bet your arse I think about those cobras every time I open one of the metal boxes …

Outside, the city is flat. Because of the drying mud, it is extremely dusty. With the temporary and perhaps impending permanent closure of some factories, the city is under sever financial duress.  There is standing water remaining in the fields and in the ditches.  It is common to see guys fishing in the ditch, out in front of a gas station convenience store.

All of this is to say that I expected my Christmas getaway to be a little more glamorous than this industrial sump.

Welcome to Thailand.

Vendors

However, with a little research, it became clear. This area is a gold mine of rich, rich culture. I have seen several brochures printed for tourists in Bangkok — enticing them to do a day excursion to Ayutthaya. Well … HA! I am already here!

Why would people drive from Bangkok to Ayutthaya?

Well, I’ll tell you … from the 14th through 18th centuries, Ayutthaya was the capitol of what Westerners called Siam. That’s right movie buffs, this contemporary, industrial city was once the jewel … the origin of the dynasty featured in the musical and the film versions of “The King and I.” (Yes i first typed “The Ping and I.”)

So … now things are looking up a little.

Because of its accessibility to China, India, Vietnam, Malaysia and more, this place is perfectly located for trade. It has been a hotspot of wealth, culture and religion. And, fyi, the first ruler of the Kingdom of Ayutthaya, King Ramuthibodi made Theravada Buddhism the official religion.

Later, in the 1500s, those ever-opportunistic master traders the Portuguese established a colony, however, Thailand is the only Southeast Asia state to remain independent of European colonial rule. Ayutthaya is thought to have been the largest city in the world in the 1700s with a population of one million. (After a military coup in 1932. Thailand transformed from an absolute monarchy to a constitutional monarchy … after more than 33 kings.)  Yes … there is some history here.

The city is surrounded by three rivers and therefor considered an island. The water that nearly destroyed the place in 2011, provided natural protection and trade avenues historically.

Nevertheless … bummer … The Burmese burned Ayutthaya in 1767.

But the fire and the floods have done little to erode the timeless treasure of Ayutthaya - the numerous historical ruins, and several magnificent wats — temples, monasteries or other sacred Buddhist sites — around the city. Collectively, the ruins throughout the city form a historical park which was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1991.

http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/576

Bronze Buddha In Wihan Phramongkhon Bophit

Bronze Buddha

Ah “‘wat’ the hell.”  I can’t resist.  This is a perfect place to insert one of my favorite childhood jokes.  You see, back in Texas there was a gentleman name “Watt.”  He owned and operated a gasoline station in my hometown … So, anytime someone would ask the rhetorical “You know what?”  We would always respond by saying, “Yes, he runs the Texaco.”

I digress …

Tuk Tuk

So, this Dirty Gig has a shiny side too. After a week wading in filth, I strapped on the Nikon, hopped on a three-wheeled tuk tuk (taxi) and went wat hopping … without Wi-Fi. (But of course, there will be more about Wi-Fi in future posts …)

Know what I sayin?

Wat Phra Si Sanphet

Wat Phra Si Sanphet

Wat Ratchaburana

Wat Rachaburana

]]> http://pingwi-fi.com/2011/12/wat-hapnin-wi-fi-on-hold-search-ping-of-siam-later-joe/feed/ http://pingwi-fi.com/2011/12/little-wi-fi-big-times-on-24-hour-bangkok-journey/ http://pingwi-fi.com/2011/12/little-wi-fi-big-times-on-24-hour-bangkok-journey/#comments Mon, 19 Dec 2011 12:30:23 +0000 Ping http://pingwi-fi.com/?p=6162 Sawasdee!

If you were to visit the headquarters of PingWi-Fi, you would find an eclectic setting — a tale of two reality TV shows … a hybrid somewhere between “Pickers” and “Horders.” We collect it. We stack it. We do funny things with it.

The first sign of this condition is a tiny scale model of a Thai Airways 747 dangling in the air on a piece of translucent fishing string, near the door, above the banister between the first and second floors. It is a memento of an old PR assignment. When Thai airways moved its North American headquarters from the Seattle area to Los Angeles, I did PR.

At that time, the airline was so happy with the media hits that they sent one TV reporter on an all-expense-paid trip to Thailand. And me … I got a 3-inch version of a jetliner and some memories.

Well … karma is a mysterious thing. After all these years, I now find myself in Thailand.

How did I get here? For starters, I owe The Dirty Gig. Just a few week ago i was told the position was evolving into more of a logistical role in the States. Then all hell broke loose on the other side of the planet — and I find myself ankle-deep in some really nasty stuff on a daily basis. “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”

To be more literal, Thai Airways brought me here. Or at least they did the honors on the final 5 hours of 24 hours in the air total. To get to Thailand, first it was a three+ hour flight from DFW to LAX on a dreadfully crowded United Airlines flight … with no Wi-Fi. Really!?! How can this be, in this day, on a long-haul domestic flight? (No points awarded to United …)

Next up, some layover time, then a 15-hour jaunt from LAX to Incheon in Seoul, Korea on Korean Air. This phase of the journey was on an 800 series 747 double decker. Nice to know there was plenty of leg room elsewhere in the cabin. As for the Ping, I was sandwiched in a middle seat, riding 4 across in the middle section … one of the few blond-ish types on an aircraft filled with Korean-speaking brunettes … although Thailand was this traveler’s final destination. My buddies n the flight were scattered elsewhere in this winged monster.

Boeing 747
Not to be overdramatic … but it was miserable … no room, no ability to get out of my seat … no ability to communicate with the flight attendants … no nothing. (”Boohoo you big baby. You’re on your way to Bangkok,” I told my self for the first 12 hours.)

Finally, I gave up trying to sleep and starting going through the inflight movie selection. I am embarrassed to say that at one time I thought “Cowboys & Aliens” looked like a good idea, mixing two of my favorite genres. I was wrong. There, I said it. It stunk up the place, as if the flight wasn’t already suffering enough from day-old hygiene gone bad. What a stupid movie, and so poorly done.

It got worse. Unknowingly, I started what may be the poster child for chick flicks, “Crazy, Stupid Love,” with Steve Carrel. Steve, what were you thinking? Another dud … the highlight for me — an unlikely selection of music in the film’s score (although not on the soundtrack) … a Sparklehorse/Flaming Lips song I have heard nowhere else other than my iTunes. Score one for the sound team of the film.

Ha … I even fired up a Korean film with subtitles thinking that would put me to sleep. No luck. And you probably guessed the two guys on either side of me were sleeping machines. Rather than wake them, I resorted to a trick I learned on Quantas last year on the way to New Zealand. I climbed out of my seat on to the armrests, and seat hopped in that manner to the exit row.

To quote an old travel joke from Redd Foxx, “But how the hell are you going to get back …”

Eventually I would have to wake one of the guys and slide back in my seat. I don’t know why I was worried about waking and offending. I mean, one of these guys had been waging arm rest war for about 10 hours of the flight … overflowing into my territory like he was invading across The 38th Parallel. Maybe I am just polite …. or maybe it occurred to me just how outnumbered I was …

Once I was up, I hung out in the back of the plane, near the stairwell to business class, striking a few yoga poses, stretching, avoiding deep vein thrombosis and chilling with five or six of the Korean Air flight attendants … who had no idea what I was saying.

Did Korean Air provide a side of hot-buttered Wi-Fi to go with the weak movie selection? Well …. no. But, I found it quite curious that you CAN buy a bottle of blended scotch … an Armani wristwatch … or various kinds of perfumes in a little store in the tail section … back where I do yoga. (No points awarded …)

“Red-eyed” does not begin to describe the way I looked when we landed in Seoul. I have heard zombies are even more fashionable than vampires in pop culture these days … so I was pretty darned cool I suppose … definitely all “walking dead” like. I digress.

Geek -- Universal Language

BTW, Incheon is a new, really cool, attractive, clean, modern facility. I can’t think of a better place to collapse from exhaustion. It is a really And yes, it provided a quick hit of Wi-Fi before the final stage of the journey.

Incheon Airport in Seoul — Free Wi-Fi, great shopping … and great facilities in the Asiana Air Lounge - 6 pings.

Incheon

Oh wait … I know I mentioned the layovers and the transfers to various airlines, but I haven’t mentioned that although my bags were checked direct from DFW to Bangkok, my companions and I had to grab more boarding passes at the appropriate ticket counters along the way.

In Seoul, that is when karma gave me a double whammy … in a good way.

Not only was I finally getting to fly Thai, somehow, somewhere, someone apparently made a mistake. The final leg of my journey was in business class. Ha … works for me. i offered apologies to my buddies and made a beeline to the Asiana lounge. (Don’t ask me how it works, but Asiana was coordinating our Thai flight out of Seoul.)

Asiana
I confess … it is somewhat of a waste for me to get free-drink privileges in an exclusive airport lounge. I don’t drink, and I have yet to figure out how to sneak out drinks to my friends … so I do all the damage I can to the buffet back there. Ha … how many snacks, appetizers, sandwiches, deserts, soft drinks, juices and breath mints can one passenger consume in a few hours of layover nirvana? Ha … I don’t know. I gave it my shot … and it looked like several of the other guests had the same goal.

When I could ingest no more, I explored. Woohoo … after the hours and hours in a torture device of an airline seat, I tried out a an electronic/pneumatic massage in an easy chair. Oh what a sight … all that jiggling … and squeezing (Isn’t that a Journey song?) … sort of like getting your blood pressure checked from head to toe, as he chair tightens up on you. I had my fill of that too.

Here’s that part where I do what I say I will never do — I describe the events in the bathroom.

Let’s just say, I don’t fly business class much and apparently I “don’t get out much” either. AND … I have never been to Asia before. I had heard of, but had never seen an electric commode before this story. It was tucked away in a nice, private, luxurious little cubicle of a stall. The privacy made me feel a bit adventurous. “Let’s try this thing out.” I said to myself. First problem. The instructions or button labels were not in English. I looked at the diagram, or icon, or whatever, and I swear one control looked as if it were to raise the entire fixture. Cool! I thought the thing was going to raise, to the liking of a person my height. I pressed the button.

Bad mistake.

Although I was relatively sure (I double checked on the way out too) i was in the men’s room, this unit was equipped with a powerful jetstream of warm water for the extra cleaning some people require. The trouble was, I hadn’t sat down yet. So, I am standing there in the stall and a stream of water that might put a horse to shame is fountaining up and out of the commode, hitting the door, soaking the floor and threatening to drench my laptop and the backpack I tucked in the corner.

You bet your arse, I was pushing and poking every button on the thing as fast as I could. The water just kept on keeping on. It would not stop. i grabbed my backpack to rescue the computer from my own little flooding disaster. I thought about just running and leaving the thing spraying out of control … I thought of running regardless of the outcome, sort of like the time my cousin and I burned down a neighbor’s fence back in Lubbock, Texas, when we caught the grass on fire in the alley, throwing paper airplanes we had lit … I digress.

This time I didn’t run. I had to get control of the situation. I decided to make a stand … er … rather I did the only thing i could do. I dropped trousers and sat on the fountain of water. It worked. But at that point, I didn’t get too excited. The water had no auto shut off. I was stuck there … like the legend of the little boy in Holland who stopped the leak in the dike with his finger. Stuck.

I hope you are seeing the humor … Yes … picturing me laughing aloud, stranded on the old porcelain throne, getting the cleaning of a life time with no end in sight, so to speak.

Finally, I must have punched in the right code or whatever. The water stopped. I had already unleashed about three rolls of tissue on the reservoir I made on the tile floor, trying to soak up the mess and avoid someone’s death by hydroplaning on the clear liquid. I did the right thing and grabbed up the soggy paper … disposed of it .. and ran out of the lounge, feeling quite refreshed I might add, and boarded my final flight.

Madhuwasah

OH … remember the best was yet to come. No one but you and I know the little bathroom mishap story, so no one escorted me off the plane or out of the airport or anything. Somehow, this bathroom impaired loser that I am, was allowed to fly business class …

On Thai Airways, it is called The Royal Silk treatment. And yes, the experience may be better than rock star treatment … they treated me and my really clean arse like royalty.

Royal Orchid

I think i had already washed my hands with two steaming towels even before we took off. In no time I was making selections for various courses of the meal. Finally! PingWi-Fi had arrived … or it felt that way anyway. Some 19 or so hours into my flying time, I was basking in luxury. Again, part of the luxury was wasted on me because I don’t drink … but i did order a special wine glass so I would feel all pampered and special as I drank my juice. It’s all about the presentation … and I ate all of the smoke salmon and roast pork and whatever else they brought me … despite my gorging back on land. You only go round once … and what better way to bring on much needed sleep, if not a coma, than over eating.

I did my best to ensure some restful sleep.

But wait … one last thing. I told the flight attendant about my stint doing PR for Thai Airways so many years ago, when she saw me taking a photo of the two tiny wine glasses that were branded with the Thai logo.

A few minutes later she appeared beside the little bed compartment thing I was so enjoying in business class, and she had more of the Thai wine glasses, wrapped and packaged for me to take along on the rest of my journey.

Instant friend!

How cool. I envisioned building some sort of little Thai Airways shrine with my new collection of Thai glasses and the miniature Thai jet, back in my office … remember the little Thai jet I mentioned?

In fact, we so bonded, as the jumbo jet cruised thought the night! A few minutes later she motioned for me to join her on the other side of the curtain that separated business class from the cockpit. No silly. Nothing like that. She motioned me over to the tiny window in the escape door. In a heavy accent, she invited me to get on the floor and look out the window.

“What? Is this a trick?,” I thought, all sleep deprived. Did they find out about my bathroom mishap? Was she going to kick my really clean arse off the plane midair? Ha … it occurred to me for a second … but I knew they couldn’t do that to a travel writer … Ha!

She joined me there on the floor and pointed out and said something about the moon. I could see nothing but what appeared to be a faint star. Again, I am thinking “is this a joke?” She motioned again for me to look and again with some language barrier between us, we tried to talk through this thing. I couldn’t see the moon … just this weird star. She gave up. Aboiut that time, the curtain parted and another passenger walked in on what must have looked really awkward.

Back to seat. At long last … I planted in the chair … did the full recline, curled my 6-3 frame to fit 5-10 little bed … and I was happy to do so.

For the next four hours, I slept like I had invented sleep myself. Perfection. Wild dreams … I am sure I yelled out in my sleep several time to the alarm of all the other passengers in business class … and I just kept on sleeping until the pilot’s voice announced that the other passengers, me and my clean arse would land in Bangkok in 20 minutes.

OH … After landing, I learned why I could not see the moon. The Royal Orchid treatment — the experience I waited on for so long — did not include Wi-Fi on the flight … but, this is cool … it DID include a lunar eclipse somewhere near the point in the flight at which we crossed the International Date Line.

Royal Silk treatment on Thai Airways — well worth the wait. A great meal; very personable flight attendants who go the extra mile; a pretty darned comfortable place to lay my head; an unexplained bump up to business class … Thai made me feel quite special (and we all know by this tale and many others like it that I am really not) — 6 pings.

Know what I sayin?

… I digress.

Ha … I just got back from a three-month blitz to California, New York and Pennsylvania for The Dirty Gig … then shuffled off to Amarillo to see the family and watch it snow.

A funny thing happened on the way to The A. Bored, as I drove, I started reading all the gauges and stickers. Good thing. The state vehicle inspection sticker had been out for two of three months I was on the road … tucked away in my garage. So, driving my vehicle for the first time in months — I was illegal.

I pulled over, got out of the car, raised my hands and gave myself up. No takers!

So I got back in the car and headed north.

And Mother Nature was down with that. She helped me avoid the law — an accomplice, as it were. Luckily, I had learnin. I had to pull out an old college trick, while in Amarillo. What was it? Well … since you asked … I learned as a freshman that when it snows you can scrape 70 percent of the ice from the windshield and leave the inspection sticker buried under the ice. See … I did learn something in college.

So, until the snow thawed on the drive back to Fort Worth, I was cruising under the radar … so to speak. Using snow stealth technology.

As the sticker became more and more apparent, I reverted to technique number two. Staying right — to make the vehicle further away from any law enforcement eyes on the opposite side of the road. Additionally, I made dang sure there was always a car in the left lane beside me as I zipped through the speed traps that are also known as Claude, Texas … Estelline, Texas … and yes my favorite two names Chillicothe and Quanah, Texas respectively.

No tickets!

I thanked the powers that be and parked the thing. Then this morning, I was up at four to pack for the trip to Thailand. Ha … almost the land of Toyotas. I leave Friday. For once in my life, I was first in line. When the doors of Toyota went up. And yes, my newly inspected, neglected, rejected, non-infected, blah, blah, blah Toyota will be stored …. legally … back in the garage of PingWi-Fi world headquarters.

Meanwhile … i have been impressed for years that ToyotaFW has Wi-Fi, free, easy, accessible for their guests in the waiting area. And get this … these crazy tech savvy Toyota types are also using Apple iPads to do the paperwork during the service appointment. Pretty cool.

Toyota of Fort Worth — after multiple visits and much use of the Wi-Fi hotspot … I have finally blogged about it. Great hotspot, cool cars, nice, nice service people — 6 pings. (A near perfect score … A catch 22 … one point deducted because not only did I write a blog … I had enough time to post it too.)

Sawasdee!

Know what I sayin?