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TManTrek.Com: Terry Lynch's Trip Around the World |
I grabbed my shoe and gave it a mighty WHACK, slaying the beast with one blow. After showing the locals the remains of the enemy they expressed great anger. It seemed that particular spider makes for good eating and my killing technique flattened it too much for the cooking pot. I responded by telling them from now on they must call me “The Spider Slayer”. The Spider Slayer then drank beer with the chief in celebration of the kill.
The trek itself was unique because our guides would cook all our food in bamboo shoots. Even the drinking cups and utensils were bamboo. Problem was our second night was spent in a makeshift shelter in the jungle. Blankets were provided, but it was so damn cold that we shivered ourselves to sleep.
The following morning I felt a bit off, five minutes later I felt completely helpless! Some people call it traveler’s sickness, my African companions called it “shitting through the eye of a needle”. Whatever you want to call it, I had it in a bad way. The worst part was we had a ten mile trek out of the jungle to civilization. I’ll spare everyone the details, but I survided – barely.
Christmas ’02, Not a White Chirstmas
Christmas was celebrated in true Thai style. Hutch suggested we head to the Thai Province (Phittansuk) that only receives 2% of the nation’s tourism. Basically, we didn’t want a white Christmas, with tourists (ourselves included ) being the "White" part of the equasion. Instead we wanted to blend in with the Thai crowd; Breakfast steak and eggs would be replaced with Curry.
That night, we executed our plan as Hutch and I descended into a club appropriately called Studio 54. Upon entering, the first thing we noticed was not only were we the only whities there, but we also had a good foot height advantage over the masses. The second thing we noticed that the music basically stopped and the mob stared at the Foreigners in the doorway.
Approaching the dance floor we were welcomed with a barrage of high fives and broken English. Cheers were heard and we were eventually swallowed by the crowd. I entertained my onlookers posing for photos and performing the “white man overbite” dance.
After much entertaining, I seeked refuge in the bathroom. As I entered a young attendent escorted me to the urinal. As I was in the process of doing my business, the attendant snapped his fingers and another approached and began to massage my shoulders. This happened in China (they work there, not some random) so I was fine with it as long as he stayed above the equator. Then I felt his hands grab my neck and head, and before I knew it he cracked my neck in true chiropractic style. I felt energized, relief of bladder and tension! I tipped the good doctor a few baht.
Outside I met Hutch surrounded by ten girls with a gigantic grin on his face. I told him about the bathroom experience, we both agreed this was the best club we’ve ever been to.
Lomburi
Anyone who enjoys the debauchery of the baboon pits at the local zoo will appreciate this story. With the practice of Buddism, animals are sacred and respected. In Lomburi (aka Monkey Town), it is a tad out of control. Lomburi is known for one thing, monkeys. They literally took over the main temples and surrounding streets, answering to no one except the dominant, alpha male. The city actually receives a lot of tourism from this, so the monkeys are well looked after even though they’ve become a frightful nuisance. Actually, once a year the people of Lomburi hold a feast to thank the monkeys for their attractive tourist dollars. Tables of food are carefully laid out for the primates, then the little bastards wreak havoc at the tables throwing food and feces at the spectators-kind of like the Glenbrook Powerpuff hazing incident in the news this Spring. I think this Monkey spectacle would make a good “Man Show” Episode.
The problem is years of tourism and free hand outs have caused the monkeys to be quite brave around humans, even aggressive. Monkeys are cute from a distance, but when one jumps on your shoulder (happened to me), or begins to chase you – it’s a whole nother story. One monkey is cute, but an army of howling, masturbating, and frantic monkeys surrounding is a bit too much. Mike and I were excited to see a city besieged by the primate, but equally excited when we left town.
The Quest for a Cock Fight
I will never forget when Femke said “We’ll see you in a few hours, you boys have fun at the cock fight!
Hutch was on a mission to see a cock fight while in Thailand. We combed the outskirts of Authaya for two days, poking our heads into alleyways and trying to decipher where a cock fight would take place or what type of local would have information. One night we rented a motorcycle and stopped in every sketchy shack outside of town. Most of the people we inquired with didn’t speak English, so we would say “Cock Fight!” as Hutch would do a Cock-a-doodle doo and I would do my best impersonation of a Chicken Man. After a lot of blank stares and laughs we finally found someone who responded when we said “Cock”, he pointed us in the direction of a gay bar. Wrong kind of cock.
We finally met a bartender that knew of a cockfight in the neighboring town. After drinks we bid the Dutch girls farewell, that’s when Femke said the above quote. Now I was expecting a dark alleyway with Thai men holding sweaty bills and screaming as “Little Jerry” battled for supremacy. When I saw the ARENA from a distance I realized how wrong I was. The circular complex was a couple hundred feet across and surrounded by a fence (to keep out the authorities). Inside you had the main arena that could house a few hundred spectators, along with some minor fighting pits where most of the action tonight was taking place. The complex also had food stalls, beer vendors, and all the amenities of a professional baseball game, except for the giant foam hand.
Word spread quickly that two “farlongs” were present, so amid the stares a few English speakers emerged and brought us up to speed on the bizarre world of Cock Fighting. There are 10 rounds in a fight, and each round is 20 minutes. In between the rounds, the birds’ trainer repairs the wounds and force-feeds the rooster some type of energy drink. After that the bird is revitalized –supposedly. Each fighting pit has a referee. His job is mainly to separate the birds when their too tired to fight. After a few rounds, the birds tend to get tired and don’t produce enough carnage for the spectators. The fight is over when one bird is K.O’d (or dead), or when the owner decides to pull his cock from the match (T.K.O.). All bets are settled afterwards, and men were surrendering thousands of dollars. I knew Asians were gamblers being slot pulling zombies, but seeing all this cash exchanging hands over two cocks killing each other seemed a bit ridiculous. The match we watched ended in a T.K.O.; the owner indicated he wanted his cock to “fight another day”.
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