Dracula, 28 weeks later

My Burmese roommate and I were bored out of our skulls yesterday sleeping together on a single bed (this is not brokeback Part 2 I assure you, it's a long story), so we decided to watch a movie. He really wanted to watch "28 weeks later," the sequel to Danny Boyle's surprising zombie movie hit 28 days later released in 2002. 

28 Weeks Later is really a dark and gory movie which made me wax nostalgic about the zombies of yesteryears who were very laggard and the opposite of graceful, outrunning them was way too easy. You couldn't empathize with the actors who had no difficulty in killing the undead.  

The zombies in the 2007 version are not only fast, they run you down.

So anyway, we were watching the movie and he was very animated. Always telling me how scary the movie was and everytime the zombies caught somebody, and that means human sushi, he always had a comment. Either "very good" or "Ahh, good, good." I just smiled at the snide remarks of the bloodthirsty fool.   

For the most part, however, he was mostly silent save for the occassional jolts he makes during scary moments. I really thought he watched 28 Days Later and was able to follow the series. Halfway into the movie and after a prolonged silence, he leaned towards me and asked:

"Are they draculas?"

I was laughing so loud that I couldn't even throw a sarcastic reply. On hindsight, maybe it's probably better that laughter overshadowed any wisecrack I might have said. I like the guy. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is a cyclops.  

Silent movie

I had a fight with an old lady yesterday and we clashed without words. At least nothing I could understand anyway.

And before you pull up your skirts and pummel me with your umbrellas, listen. Hear me my cause, as Mark Anthony would say. Here's what happened:

I took a bus from my hotel in Phra Kanong towards the skytrain going to downtown Bangkok. The bus was supposed to have been airconditioned but let's just say that its prime was when Jose Rizal was still in shorts and playing with his uncircumcised Simon. So I was sitting beside this old lady who appears to be sleeping. I was really perspiring because of the midday heat. No, make that soaked.

I looked up and the two nozzles from the aircon was angled towards her. Those were supposed to be for two people right? So I reached up and rotated one of the nozzles towards me. It's still hot but thank God for small mercies. After about 10 seconds she opened her eyes to see one of the nozzles off tangent to her own skewed point of view; to my surprise she reached out and shifted my end of the nozzle back to her and went back to sleep. WTF!?!   

It was like a bad silent movie because we did the dance without words. I reached up again and of course, old lady or not, take back what's mine. She looked up and reached up again. Before doing that however, she tsked me like it was my fault. Whoa! It's on! We're out of the silent movie and fast forward many years past technicolor to dolby surround where the words fuck and shit from two-bit actors' mouths are more the rule than the exception. 

So I reached up again and told her, "ayaw lagi soloha ang aircon, ka laog ba nimo oi (don't be so selfish and hog all the airconditioner)." Did she back down? No. She instead reached up again and recited a long litany in Thai. I guess it must have translated to "fucking tourists."

I yielded and let her have all the aircon. I noticed however that she forgot where she was sitting — between the wall of the bus and myself. I was looking forward while my peripheral vision was on her. I knew it was her time to disembark when she started fixing herself up. The next bus stop I could see was about 10 meters away. So I pretended to sleep, leaning forward to the seat facing me to block her way.

She was tapping me desperately, the bus stop I guessed was about five meters away.  I looked at her and asked: "Unsa man? Wa ko kasabot nimo. Unsa imo ginasulti, binisaya ra gud beh (What? I don't understand what you're saying. Can you please speak to me in visayan)."

Oops. There goes her bus stop.

She stood up after me and rung the bell. She was really irate I could tell by the way she was speaking loudly on the bus attracting the attention of everybody else. I deliberately reached up real slow — so she could see what I was doing — to the aircon nozzle above me. I closed my eyes and could still her shrill voice. 

Ah, music to my ears.    

Hero driver

Meet Ms. Charm Tong. In 2005, She was adjudged as Time Asia's Heroes for advocating Shan people's human rights in Burma. At barely 18 years old, she addressed the 200-strong meeting of the United Nations Commission on Human Rights in Geneva to report the atrocities committed by the Burmese regime.

"At age 16, Charm Tong began working with human rights groups, interviewing sex workers, illegal migrants, HIV patients and rape victims. The following year, she spoke in Geneva on their behalf—and still speaks, in four languages, with the poise and confidence of a mature woman," says the Time report.  

 Five years ago, she established a school for Shan State Nationalities Youth located in Northern Thailand, which has become her second country. The exact location of the school is secret being that the Shans have no legal personality in Thailand. Technically speaking, they don't exist and those that do exist are in prison or deported back to Burma where they face certain persecution or even death.  

Her group, while regally known as SWAN, does not emulate the renowned graceful characteristics of the large water bird with white plumage popularized by the children's tale The Ugly Duckling. Unless Swans have fangs, that is. SWAN along with the Shan Human Rights Foundation published a report "License to Rape" which detailed the systematic rapes and murders of the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), a misnomer if I ever see one since the words "peace and development" are not equated with the Burmese junta.

Because of that, Charm Tong was officially regarded as an enemy of the state and I'd imagine shot on site. The SPDC has done worse for less offense.      

It's quite a long introduction I know, but I want everybody to appreciate the context of this entry. Last Thursday, I was riding on the back of her motorcycle while she drove around Chiang Mai. It was a very surreal experience. Sure, I've seen modern-day heroes on TV, read about them in the papers, hell I even talked to some of them. But how often have you had a hero giving you a ride?

As I settled on the back seat, I noticed her right foot rest was broken but I never bothered to ask why. As we were cruising, our conversation went like this:

Me: Well, this is rather weird.

Her: Yeah, I know.  

Me: This certainly is an experience. I've never been driven around by one of Time's Asian heroes before.

Her: Maybe that's why we're called heroes.

In the Time article, 19-year old May, a girl from Burma's Kachin state described Charm Tong as a "candle in the darkness." "She never behaves like she's superior or better. She is like our sister, and the school is our family," says May. 

Indeed. A sister to some, a driver to mine.

Bitoy’s funniest

The other day, I went with my Thai translator to the refugee camp. The entrance to the camp is "protected" by a military checkpoint to monitor who are going in and out. Supposedly, the camp is a haven for drug pushers and criminals as well as illegal immigrants that the military is "forced" to secure it.

So we hiked a few meters towards the camp and asked for permission to go in. The translator, who learned how to speak English by watching movies and reading books, explained to the guards on duty our reasons for visiting the camp and what we intend to do.

The Thai soldier who listened to us waved his hands in dismissal. No, we're not allowed to enter the camp. From what I could sense, his reasons for not letting us in is personal. I just don't think he liked us. He just waved us off like a fly over a turd. It's unfair, I know but I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

So we hang around the supermarket, waiting for his shift to end.  It was about 8:00 a.m. so we figured we come back in the afternoon and maybe our luck will hold in and we won't find him there. At around 3:00, we came back to the camp relieved to see that the soldier was no longer there. We approached the youngest-looking soldier manning the checkpoint and explained to him the situation. He looked over my credentials and my passport and I knew I was going in.

At that moment, the soldier who didn't like us popped out of nowhere. He pointed at us, his long rifle menacingly pointed halfway to the ground, and shouted gibberish.  "Waya waya waya waya," at least that's what it sounded to me anyway. I glanced at my translator to explain to me what the soldier was saying but he only looked agitated before telling me in a low voice:

"Run."

 So I did. I sprinted out of there quick as a flash and bracing for the bullets to hit my head. After some time, I noticed that I was running alone. I risked a peek back thinking that he was arrested or worse, killed. But what I saw unnerved me more than those two scenarios.

He was walking casually towards me and  the fucking worm was laughing.  

When he caught up to me, all he said was. "Funny, yes? Hahahaha"

Apparently, I didn't know I was the victim in Bitoy's funniest videos. I swear I could have socked his smirking face right there. I have a healthy sense of humor but that was just sick. To think I felt bad that I ran like that and leaving him.

So I laughed.

Hahahaha.

And fired his cheap ass.  

Switzerland my ass

Whew! a lot has happened since I've been here. I'm in Chiang Mai now near the border of Burma and some 14-16 by bus hours from Bangkok. Chiang Mai is a beautiful city. Perfect for sightseeing and picture-taking with its old cities and temples that have been preserved up to this time. You couldn't walk a few meters without seeing something new. And you have to walk here unless you ride their weird mini-buses, which is more like a pick-up truck restyled by some mad scientist to carry passengers on its back. Like a jeepney gone wrong. The signboards are in Thai so I don't really know where they're going.

It's a good thing that many Thais here speak English though the journey here is quite an adventure in itself. Asking for directions from people along the way who just continue to speak to you in Thai even if you say you don't understand. Like if they continue to talk, you will eventually understand what they're saying.  Then another Thai comes along to join in the conversation, then another, then another. Until you realize that you're surrounded by smiling Thais all talking at the same time. Yeah, like THAT would help me understand them better. It felt like in a twilight zone episode. Or better yet, the children of the corn.

Before coming here, I was in Petchabun. It was billed as "Little Switzerland" by some enterprising tour agent. The brochure said that it's surrounded by forested hills and mountains. With its cold weather, it's supposed to be a cool retreat for cynical travellers who want to see the true Thailand not synonymous to Bangkok.

Like hell! 

If that was Switzerland, then I don't want to go there. Petchabun is hotter than Fat Bastard's armpits. The map shows a lake but when I get there, i see only a canal made murkier by the perpetual heavy dew. This is rainy season so maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe it's better there during the cold months. But I don't know.

The only interesting thing that happened to me there was when I inadvertently ordered coffee where the rich foreigners converge. The place apparently was called "Farang's corner," farang is the thai word for foreigner. I met an Englishman and sparked a conversation with him. He told me a lot about Petchabun and Chiang Mai and his life story, too. He also told me something I didn't initially notice about Petchabun — there are almost no boys there. He said it's quite easy to get girls there into bed with you for free because of the shortage. Well, there is one teeny-weeny problem: you have to speak Thai first so good luck with that.

And he didn't pay for my coffee. Cheap English bastard.

Knowing Thai

It's disorienting to be in another country and you don't speak the language. Thailand is especially difficult because they don't speak English well, a downside of its nationalist policy I guess. Even the shows on cable television are dubbed in Thai and the subtitles are also in Thai. Wtf!

I think it's only here where you couldn't be so smug about knowing the English language well. Filipinos carry that distinction around like a badge of honor everywhere they go but here, I just feel so illiterate. I can't go beyond the Thai phrases "Sawasdee Krap" and "Korp Krun" for hello and thank you and that's on me. That's my badge of shame.

Thais are pretty friendly and the place is not every expensive (not cheap either) but I just know something, somewhere along the way, would be lost in the translation and in this case I'm reduced to a bumbling fool flaying my hands in a desparate attempt to get my message across.

Somehow, I just know that I'll have to use my hands soon and slap somebody silly.  No translations needed there. That's universal.

I’m back (from somewhere)

Okay… i haven't been here far too long. Much has happened over the past couple of weeks. Just to give you an idea of just how much… I'm writing this post from Thailand. Cool huh?

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I realized how I hate flying when I flew from Manila to Jakarta. I knew something bad was gonna happen when we encountered an ominous cloud. The plane was jerking around from too much turbulence, I was still calm because the seatbelt sign wasn't on. Then suddenly we hit one of those air pockets and the plane dropped 10 feet from the sky!

The captain was all cool and collected and addressing the passengers in a calm voice: "Fasten your seatbelts please." 

Yeah, right! Was that supposed to make me feel safe? We were bungee jumping 35,000 feet up without safety cords on and to make you safe the captain advises you to strap your butt on a 2,000-ton plane! I think that's a conspiracy. I think that as the big bosses plan on commercializing the air industry back in the early days they decided that if the plane was gonna go down in flames, let's take along all its passengers because hospitalization expenses would be costly. While in death, they can just fix an exact amount for burial expenses.

I was there thinking that instead of life vests under our seats, why couldn't the airline just put parachutes instead?

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I'm here on a fellowship to foster better relationship with colleagues from all over. On the same fellowship are the Burmese, Cambodian, Indonesian, Malaysian. We were supposed to have Thai and Vietnamese participants but they begged off in the last minute.

I think it's great. Learning from the others' culture and teaching mine as well. I even taught the Burmese fellow a touch of Filipino hospitality and what better way to teach our culture than our language?

So I taught him a tagalog phrase which I said means "I'm kind, you can trust me."

I taught him to say: "Maliit ang titi ko."