First day (Part I)

I wake up with Monday morning feeling. I’m not sure whether it’s good or not that it’s the same the world over. Today will be my first day at work, at least kind of. Graham and I have been told we will be attending a teaching workshop this morning before heading to our respective schools. Graham is heading to one near the airport, to the wets of Bangkok. I’m signed up with one in the east of the city in an area called Pinklao. It’s just over the river from Khao San Road, which might be handy.

Anyway, we get a cab with Petang to the nearest Sky Train station. The Sky Train covers about half of central Bangkok and is basically like London’s Docklands Railway. As it’s Monday about 90% of the Thai people around are wearing yellow t-shirts. They do this every Monday as a tribute to their king, whose birthday is a Monday. I ask Petang if Thai people would be offended if I wore a yellow t-shirt. He smiles and says no, the Thai people love their king – he does a lot of projects for poor people and looks after them as much as he can - and they would be most pleased if I wore a yellow t-shirt.

We get the train to Siam Square where the main branch of ECC, our language school, is. The train is quite busy, more like what London is like in rush hour. But the train is so spacious that there’s no chance of travelling with your face in someone’s armpit a la London.

At Siam Square ECC – an office that some interior design mag would definitely describe as ‘funky’ - we’re introduced to Tely, a woman who I have been emailing constantly for the past few weeks. She’s the big boss at ECC it seems, and is as forthright and no nonsense as you’d expect a head teacher type to be, with nearly perfect English. But there is no time to talk to her; we are quickly ushered into the workshop.

It’s on ‘brain-based learning’. I won’t bore you with the details but it’s quite entertaining - the Greek lady teaching us only just seems in control of what she’s doing, she seems very nervous. She’s not helped by an American guy who keeps shouting out quotes from various theories about learning. It’s like he’s got philosophical Tourette’s and it’s all I can do not to crease up with laughter. The Greek lady just looks at him with a blank expression – she has no idea how to handle him – and thanks him for his input.

But she’s teaching stuff that even I’ve already learnt, and yet Graham and I are the only new teachers here. All the other people are already teaching, so I’m wondering why on earth any of them are here.

We have a break and I sit down with a youngish bloke, a young woman who is laughing a lot, and an older man, maybe in his 40s. The younger bloke, I find out, is from Cardiff, but our conversation is interrupted by Tely introducing me to Binnie, the head teacher at the branch in Pinklao where I’ll be teaching. She’s a quiet, mumsy-looking woman who is very polite and seems sweet. It turns out that young bloke and the woman work there as well – his name’s Ian and hers is Vanda. The older bloke asks me if I’m new and tells me that it’s an easy job at first and then it feels like you’re banging your head against a wall. He seems a bit mischievous and playful, not his age at all, and I decide to take what he says with a pinch of salt. He continues, saying the Thai kids don’t want to be there, they’re sent by their parents – hence the head-banging. I take what he says on board and decide to just see for myself, see how it goes. He sees Graham talking to his head teacher and asks me if he’s going to Bang Na. This is the place by the airport so I say yes. “Yes!” he exclaims. “He’s replacing me. I’ve been trying to move for ages, somewhere closer to town.” It seems Graham is going to be out in the sticks, poor bloke.

After the second half of the workshop Binnie takes Ian, Vanda and me back to the ECC in Pinklao. Binnie is playing a weird compilation CD that mixes 90s indie with 80s reggae tunes. Vanda is very elusive when I ask her innocent questions like, where is she from. “Where do you think I’m from?” she returns. I guess at Australia. “Everyone says that. I was actually brought up in Scotland, which is why I hate answering that question.” She resists any further questioning but I keep it jokey with her. She’s as playful as she is elusive and seems like she could be fun.

Ian and she share lots of in-jokes, which is slightly annoying, they don’t seem particularly interested in my story, but I guess they see so many teachers coming through the school. Ian is more open than Vanda. He’s been here five years. He went to Australia for a bit then thought he’d have a look at Bangkok. He’s been here ever since. He says he feels like he should go and do something else but he doesn’t know what. Go back to the UK? I suggest. He grimaces. Not a chance.

They have a confusing conversation about visas and I realise I’ve still so much to learn. They seem to have the visa thing all down pat. Vanda is currently staying near Khao San Road and gets out there. Ian lives nearer the ECC office in Pinklao and gets out there. He has Mondays off and says he’ll probably go to Khao San Road, drink beer and watch all the crazy people walk past.

ECC Pinklao is in a big office building that looks like something out of Ghostbusters or Batman. It joins on to a big shopping mall called Central Plaza. The ECC office is also ‘funky’, very colourful. There are lots of Thai girls sat at the main desk. I go out the back and talk holiday and sick leave with Binnie (no pay for either it seems).

After a while a tall British lad bounces in to use the internet. Called Paul from Manchester, he’s about six foot, with dark hair and big Bambi eyes with even bigger eyelashes and even bigger arms. He’s quite fit but too pretty for me. He’s definitely a Popular Kid but he’s really friendly and chatty.

He tells me he’s been traveling for about two, nearly three years. He’s got the bug and doesn’t want to go home. He’s been away for so long that his friends have set up a page on a website called Facebook (a bit like MySpace) called Where’s Del? (Del refers to his surname I assume.) Fellow travellers on Facebook have spotted him on his travels, had their photo taken with him and put it up on the page. He’s a minor traveling celebrity. But he’s having to go home in a week for six weeks to sort out visas. He’s not looking forward to it.

We talk about apartments. He says 5000 baht a month is a good price to pay. He says he’s landed on his feet. He’s got this great place for 4500 baht that’s got PlayStation, everything. He says I could have had it while he’s away if he’d known, but he’s already loaned it to Vanda. I decide I like this guy, he seems all right; it’s a shame he’s going away.

I’m taken off to sort out a Thai mobile number with a Thai girl called Maew (pronounced Mel without the hard L sound). She’s 22, a teacher at ECC, rather than working the desk like the other Thai girls there. I’m not sure why she’s helping me out then, but don’t say anything. We scout around for a mobile phone shop that will unlock my phone. I tried using a Thai sim card last night with Petang but my phone wasn’t having any of it. I have to choose a mobile number as well. They have lists on the desks and you pick one. Some numbers are apparently luckier than others and so cost more. I find this very random and don’t understand why Maew screws her nose up at some of the numbers I pick. After picking a number (no idea whether it was lucky or not!) we finally find a place willing to unlock my phone. It’s going to take half an hour so we head off to get some food. I elect for KFC as I fancy a treat. I then have a long conversation with Maew trying to explain why it’s a treat, that it’s bad for you and you shouldn’t have it often.

We also talk music. She likes Lily Allen (who’s famous here only via MySpace), Coldplay, Robbie Williams, Keane. She screws her nose up at Madonna, is impressed I like Justin Timberlake. We talk about some Thai singers and bands but I immediately forget what their names are.

We get my phone. It now works with both my Thai and British sim card. How cool. We try shopping for clothes for teaching but their too expensive and don’t fit. Even here in this country of small people I find it hard to find clothes that fit. I wonder if trailing me around is annoying Maew but she doesn’t seem to mind.

We go back to the office and they tell me they only have one apartment to show me, which is a bit gutting. But Maew and I go and have a look. It’s about 5/10 minutes walk but we get bikes there, which cost about 7 baht. I try not to squeeze the driver while holding on for dear life.

The ‘apartment’ is just a room with a bed, a wardrobe and a dresser in it. It has white walls and white tiled floor – it looks like a fridge with some furniture in it. There’s a small balcony which leads into the bathroom on the right, which I think is quite cool, having your bathroom sort of outside. It’s 3500 baht a month so dead cheap and will do me for what I need, i.e. somewhere to sleep.

I walk back with Maew and we get lost. The neighbourhood is lots of nice looking houses, a few not so, all surrounding a temple. There are stray dogs and food stalls everywhere. Bikes and cars weave in and out of each other and the pedestrians. It’s bleedin’ hot.

I start to wonder if Maew got us lost on purpose. She seems a little bit flirty, but then I think I’m just reading too much into her friendliness. I have no idea; I never really notice when women are flirting with me.

We finally find our way back and I hang out at the office for a bit. Then I go to an evening market over the road that Maew suggested to look for clothes for teaching. I buy two really nice shirts for about six pounds and two pairs of trousers for about the same. God it’s cheap here. The trousers need taking up in the leg but, amazingly, they fit perfectly round my waist. This never happens!

I go back to my guesthouse the other side of Bangkok via Siam Square. I eat at a busy-looking restaurant and order pork, rice and soup with spicy sauce. I realize ordering something with the word spicy in the name is a bad idea. Although the sauce comes separately, I tentatively put a little on my rice. It’s like eating fire and brimstone. I try and drown my mouth with ice tea but in typical Thai fashion this is too sweet – they put shitloads of sugar in everything over here. Even savoury foods. There doesn’t seem to be much distinction between sweet and savoury – they only indulge in the concept of dessert for Westerners it seems. In their KFCs – get this – they have sweetcorn with ice cream. How does that work?? But as Maew pointed out, sweetcorn is sweet. I couldn’t argue with that. I’ve not tried sweetcorn ice cream yet, but I will do.

I go back to the guesthouse and, on my way from the station, I pass a barbers. I badly need a haircut, my hair is pretty much at the stage where it looks like a lawn. But I`m in an area where very few falang (foreigners) go and there`s little need for the Thais to speak English. Shall I risk trying to get my haircut in a local barbers? Of course I shall! I would be annoyed at myself if I didn`t.

I go in. It`s really old-fashioned, with the kind of chairs you only see at a dentist these days. There`s a middle-aged man and a middle-aged woman cutting the hair of two Thai men about my age. I`m relieved to see the woman is using clippers (well, it looks really old-fashioned!), but not so pleased to see that the man is using one of those classic Sweeney Todd-style razors around the hairline of his customer.

No one acknowledges me so I just sit down by the door in front of the TV. The Thai version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? is on. The presenter is as smug as Chris Tarrant, and the set-up of the game seems much the same, except they have five players instead of one or two. I`m not sure if they`re competing against each other or are on the same team, but given that I can`t understand a bloody word anyway, I figure it doesn`t matter.

The show ends and some sort of soap starts. I think it`s a comedy at first but then it gets all melodramatic and there`s long lingering shots of the actors` faces being over-expressive. It`s like watching Hollyoaks but with richer, more glamorous people. I`m enthralled by it. So much so that I almost don`t notice how much time is passing. They are taking ages with these guys. But one seems to be getting a shave and massage as well as a haircut, the full works.

An older lady and a young girl (teenager?) come out and watch TV. Neither acknowledges me. A tiny little puffball of a dog comes trotting out behind them. Normally I despise these little animals who bring shame to the name dog, but this one`s adorable. I play around with it as it tries to bite me and get into my shopping bags. I start to think maybe I should graduate to full-blown gay man status and actually buy one to carry round with me. Maybe I could buy some Cuban heels and grow a goatee... Then I give myself a mental slap and tell myself to snap out of it. The dog does kill some time however. These people aren`t in any rush to get the customers in and out.

When I`m finally acknowledged and get to sit down with the male barber I realise how lucky I am that I`m able to communicate my haircut in numbers - they speak no English whatsoever. "Grade 5 on top and Grade 3 at the sides please," I say, using my fingers to communicate more than my voice. They don`t have Grade 5 so I opt for Grade 4 and risk looking like a squaddie.
Once he starts I realise why it took so long for my turn to come around - the man is a perfectionist. His gentle treatment of my hair is actually quite unnerving. My hairdresser in London was some Kosovan dude who treated my hair like, well, like a lawn. He`d mow my hair with the clippers, tidy it up a bit, and I was out the door within 10 minutes.

This man treats my hair so gently I wonder if he`s actually cutting any off. Of course, he is - I can see this si the case in both the mirror in front of me and the mirror behind. (How cool is that? A mirror on the wall behind so you can see what they`re doing back there.) So he uses the clippers, does my hair, and then it happens. He gets out the Sweeney Todd razor. He soaps up my hairline around my ears and along the back of my neck and I realise that, even before the razor`s got close, I`ve stopped breathing. He lowers it towards my ear. When I feel it shaving the hair just above my ear I swear I`ve never been so still in all my life. It`s so easy to imagine it dropping and taking your ear off before you even know what`s happened.

I decide it`s probably best to stop imagining that, so I do. But his delicacy and gentleness is like a surgeon`s and it only adds to my unnerved state.

Eventually it`s over. I have what is probably the tidiest haircut I have ever had, and will ever have. I pay him 60 baht. What a bargain. And I still have both ears.

When I get back to the guesthouse I leave a note for Graham saying that we should get a cab together to Siam Square tomorrow. He knocks on my door about 15 minutes later to arrange a time. He’s not wearing a top and, blimey, he’s skinny. We arrange to meet in the morning and I wish him goodnight.