The Gaga saga rumbles on

A few weeks back, my least favourite performer brought her tour to Bangkok. My dislike for her is obviously not personal. I don't know the woman. In fact, she might be a very nice lady if you happen to be her friend in real life. However, the stage persona she has created- I cannot abide. Contrived, vulgar and all done (much better) before by Madonna. You may wonder why I'm devoting any time to writing about her. Well, it's the unholy stink she caused with a Twitter comment. On mass, thousands of Thais, from Gaga's own 'Little Monsters' (what a bloody stupid name for fans) to Thai government ministers, were up in arms. What about? Well, here's the infamous Twitter comment,


'I just landed in Bangkok baby! Ready for 50,000 screaming Thai monsters. I wanna get lost in a lady market and buy fake Rolex.'

Now, no one is entirely sure what a 'lady market' is. Personally, I think she means one of the numerous go-go bars crammed in to the infamous Nana Plaza or Soi Cowboy (Soi Cowboy: doesn't that just conjure up some rather tasteless images?). However, thankfully, Thailand didn't quite get wind of that. No, they reserved their indignation for the fake Rolex part. You see, folk got upset because Ms Gaga suggested that it was easy to get counterfeit goods in their country. This, they said, was not true and gave the world a bad image of Thailand. Many fans boycotted the concert and radio stations refused to play her records.

Although this little poo-poo storm erupted at the end of May, it is still getting coverage in the Thai press this week. Why? Because the police say they have found the source of the fake Rolexes. It was a little Iraqi woman who has been handling the racket all by herself for the last 10 years. By the way, no need to worry, she is now safely behind bars. Well thank goodness for that. Here was me thinking that the counterfeit problem extended to far bigger things than this Iraqi woman's back room.

Contrary to what the Thai press has stated, it is incredibly easy to get good quality, cheap counterfeit goods all over Thailand. Fact. This evening, in the 5 minute walk from the supermarket to my apartment, I passed stall after stall selling fake electrical appliances, fake handbags, pirate copies of DVDs, bottles of imitation perfume. A young Thai journalist strongly asserted that he personally knew that it was impossible to purchase fake designer goods in a well known, three-lettered shopping mall. Well unless you can now buy a Gucci handbag for a tenner and Tiffany earrings at 2 for 5 quid, I'd say you most definitely can. I have been there and seen it. It isn't even in the least bit hidden.

Thailand is a beautiful country and far more conservative than outsiders give it credit for. Far more conservative. There is very little violent crime and the people are very reserved, quiet and dignified. There is no shouting from youngsters in the street and certainly no Public Displays of Affection from anybody. And you certainly CANNOT buy a girl on every corner. Thai women don't usually even bare their shoulders in public! 

However, there is no denying it; Thailand does have a certain 'reputation'. Not always a great image. However, this image has not been cultivated by the likes of Lady Gaga (why would you listen to a woman who wanders around in nothing but greying underwear and meat bras?). It comes from an unwillingness to stamp out the sale of counterfeit items, and the denial of High Society that it goes on. Well I'm sorry to tell you, HiSo guys and girls, but you can buy cheap designer goods on many, many streets and shops in Bangkok, or any tourist area throughout the country for that matter. Although only in a very small area, girly bars do ply their trade pretty openly. It may be unsavoury but it's unfortunately why a number of tourists visit the country every year. No, they haven't just come for the beaches and temples. 

But don't go changing. The sad, lonely man needs to find  his 'one-night only' love of a beautiful woman. Besides, where else would I get such a bloody good 'Mulberry' bag for 30 quid? I'm not made of money you know.

Long time no see!

I have had, what you could call, a gentle prod. Sounds nice.

A kind friend has asked why I haven't been blogging and suggested I should do so again. To be honest, I didn't think anyone was reading it (I imagined it more like a diary I didn't mind leaving open). As life's got busier, I have completely run out of time to write anything and didn't think anyone would notice. Well they did, so here I am.

Since leaving the Thai highlands after our unexpected evacuation, things have been...busy. Very, very, very busy. And frenetic. Panicked even, with school often feeling more like a battlefield than a workplace (either that or a dosshouse, depending on who you talk to). I have been attempting to 'jolly along' as best I can however the unrelentlessness of it all has further taken it's toll on my already fragile health (I have come to realise that I have the constitution of a Victorian lady) and yet again I have a cold. And mouth ulcers. And a headache.

And sore throat.

In just six short weeks I shall be back in Blighty (yay!). I've come to enjoy these trips home more and more as my time as an expat has gone on. However, I'm sure it has more to do with romantic nostalgia and the sheer novelty of it rather than any real desire to return home for good. Whenever those feelings surface, my brother reminds me that his utility bills for last quarter were over a grand and teacher friends count down the days until the holidays. No, I shall stay poised, ready for action on the battlefield a little bit longer.

In the meantime, a little music in remembrance of a fine performer (and a song I've always particularly loved). RIP Donna Summer.

Time to go home...

When things aren't going too well, we hanker after some time in the distant past when things were better, fairer, cleaner and easier. I keep hearing of this 'Better Britain' that some sections of society claim they want back (someone please tell me when it was and how it was better? Ask my old neighbour if she wants to go back to outside toilets, back-to-back inner city housing and she'll tell you to piss off). We often believe that what we face in the present is often much worse 'than the way things used to be' or could be so much better in the future. I spent a massive chunk of my twenties stressing about my weight and constatly hoping that I'd improve with age. In some ways I have, but when I look at pictures of myself back then, there's bugger all wrong with me. In fact, I could occasionally look pretty hot. I repeat, occasionally.

I've just spent a month teaching outside of Bangkok as large sections of the capital were underwater. I've spent 4 weeks hankering after my own bed, my laptop, my clothes and toiletries. I've moaned about increased mossie bites and the lack of entertainment. Now it's my last day and I'm going back to the city. I can already feel myself missing the county air, the sound of quiet and the fact the kids 'were so much nicer up here'.

Today, we learnt that our current boss is leaving and our old boss will be taking control. Many people moaned about our old boss when we worked for him. However, when he left and the new boss took over, staff could be heard chuntering under their breaths, "Well if only he was still here. We wouldn't be having half the problems we're currently having". Well he is now coming back. And the moaning starts. "Wasn't he such a difficult man? I'm not sure I can cope with his iron rule again."

Just make up your bloody mind!

I'm not singling out my colleagues; this is general human nature. Will there ever be a time when people are completely happy with what they've got? When we're not thinking of how much better our parents' generation was (I've been told it wasn't all that), when we don't think of how things will certainly be better tomorrow whilst completely ignoring the joys of today. We should really remember that just as we swap one hardship for another, we often swap one delight for another too.

I'm sure I will remember this time in the country with rose-tinted glasses rather remembering some of the more uncomfortable times. Hopefully, though, I can start to appreciate a little more what I have from day to day.

And today seems pretty good.

Turning them in to zombies

As a teacher, your job is to inspire and revitalise today's youth. Draw from them like water from a well. If you have any idea about secondary education in today's Britain, you'll know that's often an uphill struggle if at all possible. I have nothing but the utmost respect for my friends who stuck it out and still teach in some really tough schools. Regrettably, we'd just had enough.

I loved my training and NQT year but after that...It wasn't enjoyable trying to get blood out of a stone, it was no fun ringing parents to ask for their support and instead getting a mouth full of abuse and it was disheartening to see at the end of weeks of work, the complete and utter waste of their time and mine.

We turned our backs on the education system in the UK and, I suppose, copped out by teaching at a nice little private school abroad. Both my husband and I are from very working class backgrounds, NUT reps and pretty staunch socialists. We never thought we'd ever end up working in the kind of school we now do. We got in to teaching to help kids improve their lives and naively thought we could make a difference in our own small way. Instead we ended up constantly too tired and too overworked to make a difference to anyone.

If you follow the stereotypes, our very privileged private school students should be arrogant, dismissive, rude and expect A stars to fall delicately in to their worthy laps. Instead, they are unbelievably respectful, hardworking and really very nice. They could probably buy me 75 times over but never behave that way. At times, I do wish I was still working with British kids, especially as most of the kids I taught were the most disadvantaged, maligned, after-thought to the System and to their parents. However, for our own sanity, we'll continue to work here. Sometimes that sits uncomfortably with our principals but I'm still sane at the end of the half-term and haven't been driven to downing a bottle of wine and 30 B&H a night just to forget the horrors of the day.

Anyway, as per title-zombies.

Despite our gifted opportunity to turn these kids in to mean thinking-machines, I have spent the last week turning them in to zombies. We're studying horror. I currently have a class of contorting, dribbling, jerking zombies.

They love it. I love it. Though I wonder whether it's an excuse to just play some of my favourite music and move around a bit. This was our zombie music from last night's workshop. Thought it leant a rather sinister edge...

After taking the plunge and starting a blog with my husband two and a half years ago, today I thought it was an appropriate time to start my own.

We'd started our joint blog after accepting teaching jobs in an international school in Thailand and chronicled my complete denial of the situation and his growing excitement. After 12 months and one or two hiccups (note: school teachers and blogs often shouldn't mix for a variety reasons I will not say here for fear of causing another complete and utter shit storm), the writing of it sort of, well, stopped. The last time we wrote anything was in August 2010.

A lot has happened since then.

I won't outline them all now as this is kind of why I wanted to start my own blog; so I ponder, muse and chat about what I like, when I like.

Me? I'm 33, married, no kids (but trying), living in Bangkok. I feel I'm too young to be an orphan, a teacher and a homeowner but am all three. I stay in too many Saturday nights and don't drink nearly enough cocktails. I worry too much about my weight, career and fertility (long story) and wish I could say 'Bugger off' to more people than I do. I love nearly any type of film (even the most cheesy) but can't really abide sci-fi or rom-coms. I'm a little bit more snooty about books, though. Reading requires time, effort and concentration. If the book is crap, I feel like I've wasted precious hours of my life and, as a result over the years, have developed a pretty good shit filter.

I will say from the outset, I'll try not to swear too much on here (though a swear word or two can go an awfully long way sometimes), I absolutely will not bad mouth of vilify anyone (unless they're a Tory in which case, I sort of have to) and I will try to keep it mercifully short. And yes, I know I've kind of already broken that rule (at bit) but this is the first one after all!

So there you go. Hope to see you soon.