morality

Her father was a corporate expat… working his way around the world a few decades before it became the norm. Her international school tuition and necessary materials were covered, but little else. They weren’t western expats… unable to afford all the luxuries of her school-yard contemporaries.

She was astounded by the plethora of interesting books available here, and equally so by her classmates disinterest in them. Aware her parents couldn’t afford the long list of titles that caught her interest… she devised a way around it.

She wrote assignments for a few students who weren’t known for doing their homework, in exchange for the ongoing reading material. Their parents, elated to receive tanglble proof of their child’s educational interest, were more than happy to purchase the long list of books. Similarly, the teachers were happy to finally see their underperforming students starting to pull up their socks. And she could lose herself in a pile of books which captivated her imagination. Everyone was happy.

Until the headmaster figured out what was going on… and told her she couldn’t do that. “Why not…?” she protested. The response was, “Because it’s wrong.”

traveling carnival boys

It was a game I was unfamiliar with. They bet in Thai currency and kept track of the wins and losses owed. A guy with a mouth brace was the tenacious score-keeper, while they all rotated being the dealer.

He was in a motorcycle accident the week prior; thrown from the bike, knocked unconscious and now had a mouth brace. Accidents were prolific, even moreso amongst foreigners. Affordability made them accessible, the terrain made it conducive to accidents. Other than the mouth brace, there was no other indication he had been in one. The brace didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe it was the painkillers. The brace only allowed him to drink liquids through a straw. A milkshake… a margarita maybe.

meeting paul

My friend, Emily, met Paul McCartney when she was in high school. She was at a shoe store with her mother in Long Island… he was there with his former wife, Linda. Emily’s mother urged her to tell him about the class she took on The Beatles. When she appeared embarrassed, he asked what she had learned. Reluctantly, she told him they played the “Revolver” album backwards and it said “Paul is dead.” Paul McCartney argued to the contrary… that in reality, it didn’t actually say that. Emily maintained they played it, so she had heard it for herself.

She told only her best friend, Marianne, about the brief conversation. Years later, Marianne was reading a Rolling Stone article about Paul McCartney. It was a really long article and Marianne says it’s unlikely she would’ve read it in its entirety, if she wasn’t such a huge fan. At the very end, the interviewer asked about the album in question. In response, Paul McCartney told a story about meeting a girl in Long Island, who said her teacher told her what the record said when played backwards… and that there was nothing he could say to convince her otherwise. He realized, regardless of what he said, people would believe what they wanted to believe.

While most would be elated to be cited as having such an impact on a celebrity, she still to this day, focuses on the fact that Paul McCartney misquoted her.

unwelcome interruptions

He wanted her to go for a swim… grabbed her arms, tried to pull her up off the sand. Her strength and indifference surprised him.

“Tanned skin, piercing blue eyes… girls fall over themselves, eh?”
“So, I’m full of myself?”
She shrugged.
“Just wanna go for a swim with you, c’mon…”
She remained indifferent to his comment on how sexy she was. He was perplexed.
“I love the way you talk… all canadianized.”
She hesitated. “Maybe I’m not canadianized… just Canadian?”
“Of course… you were born here. Just like me.”
The silence made him uncomfortable.
“You’re not like the others.”
Her eyebrows raised.
“You mean the cartoons, right?”
“Cartoons?” she asked.
“Everyone’s seen them.” He began mimicking an Indian accent.

swarming bugs

Not knowing many people in the town, the voice took us by surprise, particularly when I opened the gate to someone we didn’t recognize. It turned out to be my roommate’s former student, but it was disturbing how a random visitor to the town could immediately find us. We asked the teachers we worked with to refrain from giving strangers our address as a safety precaution. They seemed quite perplexed at our request, but eventually acquiesced due our seriousness.

As we met other foreigners in the town, we began to hear about what they were doing within minutes of the occurrences… where they were in the market and whether they were eating rice or noodles. By the intensity of the discussion, we could tell this was compelling news.

It finally dawned on us… we were celebrities.

awaiting near death

My book collection is getting surprisingly low, although the erosion in book titles is perhaps more a function of lifestyle. Too often, packed boxes of books have become makeshift shelves or bedside tables due to lack of time or space. In each subsequent move, I eliminate what seems like an insignificant proportion of books, which increasingly lets steam out of my dream to have a floor-to-ceiling library. One day, when I stay in a place long enough. Right now, my favourite titles land in the ‘used bookstore’ pile, while I hold onto the books I haven’t yet read.

As I look through what remains, it appears my pragmatic-nomadic life has permeated my collection. Books that I normally like to escape in have been replaced by the ‘International Bartenders Guide,’ ‘The ultimate sailor’s guide to knots’ and ‘Fundamentals of Thai grammar’.

Rummaging through boxes, I came across the ’Worst Case Scenario Surviver’s Handbook’ ~ offering practical advice from earthquake survival, escaping quicksand or a submerged vehicle, to dismantling a bomb and wrestling an alligator. Flipping through, I marvel at its usefulness. I have been to places where some of it could be relevant, but haven’t yet had an occasion to put it to good use.