Pimp My 'Ped

Thailand is like Italy when it comes to mopeds. They're everywhere. Even if you don't own a car, you own a moped. When you turn 16, you can [legally] drive a moped; when you turn 18, you can [legally] drive a car (considered more responsible at that age).

You know how the American highschool parking lot is full of cars? In the highschools here, the parking lots are full of mopeds. Even college and university campus parking lots are more full of mopeds than cars. I guess it's more comfortable beacuse they take up less room.

Seriously, though, so much for "Pimp My Ride" over here. No one would care, because barely anyone over here drive s a car anyway except for the elders. Unless you want to have that show over here, be my guest; but you're going to get a bunch of giddy grandmothers and middle-age-crisised grandfathers who wear hats off to the side and shakily say "Whazzup, homie?"

So slap on some under-glow led lights, blinkies (I know my dad just got excited), stereo systems, bouncing shock absorbers, and pimp out a moped instead. That would be more fun[ny] anyway.

Monica.

Edit: Not that I don't like those "hip" grandfathers - I love them, but they'd be your only audience.

Not the American Band-Aid

I had fixed my hair and put on my skirt. First day of Ashiwa.

I slid on my black, baby-doll shoes and slipped on my black and white beaded bracelet I got in America. I left for school with a banana in hand and a stomach full of egg-over-rice. I was ready.

Or so I thought.

Holly and I met up at her house and boarded the bus to go to school. No big deal. I gave my 7 Baht to the money-collector person and stood there [the bus was full]. No worries, I can stand.

The bus arrived at our stop, and Holly told me when. We jumped off the bus and started walking along the concrete sidewalk to our school. I started walking into the entrance of where I thought was Ashiwa, only to get my shirt collar pulled backwards by Holly to turn me around straight back on the sidewalk. "Unless you attend grade school, keep walking." She said.

That was only the beginning.

We had walked over the road to the school where people were gathered in front for announcements. We stepped in line with the rest of the people [whom were now staring at the new 'farang' (me; it means foreigner)], only to get myself dragged up in front of the entire group to the side of the flagpole stand/stage thingie. First day. "The word 'majak' means 'from.'" Mr. Warawit, my Kanchanaphisek director, just told me.

"Oh, Sahwatdee-kha, Kun-Pah!" I wai'd to my host dad. Wait, what?!

"Ready?" He asked me.

"What? For what?" I'm confused.

"Speech." He replied, then looked back at the person speaking to the 3,000-person student body.

One thing you should know about me: I don't do well with speeches, and I've never given one to such a large group of people before.

Holly had been shown the way up to the stage as well, for she just walked on top as the speaker ended her speech and motioned me forward up the concrete stairs. I climbed them hesitantly thinking over what to say in my mind. It was blank.

Nonetheless, my feet had found the spot at the podium rather well.

It went alright, but I didn't say a whole lot. I didn't know what to say, you know? I simply said in Thai, "Hello. My name is Monica in America. Here it is Monthida, or nickname Thida. I'm from America." That's all I said. I had no idea what else to say! I guess that speech was rather lame, especially because I could speak longer in Thai, but didn't. Oh well.

I was shown around campus by Holly, then we went to class. My heels hurt. There was no teacher, so we then proceeded to go to 7-11 to eat, where I also bought heel pads for my feet. We then went back home on the yellow bus.

When we arrived home, I noticed my shoes had worn into my feet. I now had slight cuts where my shoes have rubbed against the sides of my feet and heel, and it stung.

I went to Holly's the next day, and realized I had left my flip flops there. I think I'll be using those today. My shoes still hurt against my feet, so I think I should let them heal over.

Holly's aunt thought otherwise, and gave me two band aids. I gratefully put them on over where it hurt most, and left my flip flops at Holly's thinking I'd be alright.

I came home. My band-aids sort of rolled up on themselves (you know how annoying that is) and were sticking to my shoes, so I decided to take them off.

I grabbed the falling-off edge and starting pulling slowly, only to notice my skin was going with it. I stared at my foot. How could this happen to me? I whined. Holly laughed. I tried again, this time pulling the other one off. Instead, "OW! My skin!" I started freaking out a little, then devised the childhood plan. One rapid rip. I gripped the edge roughly, ready to kill. I tore it off my already sore foot and let out a small squeal-shriek that only people next to me would be able to hear. I looked at the "healing", torturous, medicated device. Little blood, no medication left, some skin. WHAT?! I looked at my foot. The protector has stolen my skin! THIEF! "OW!" I cradled my sore foot, preparing to detach the other leech. My fingers once again clenched to the sides, and tore. Another scream-like squeal emitted from my agape mouth as my skin once again surrendered to the zombie band-aid that eats flesh like a Thanksgiving Turkey Dinner.

Atleast they were now gone, however. Apparently I won't be using those things again, unless it's a more serious wound [which I should go to the hospital for instead]. I think my scrapes got worse since I put them on in the first place, but I don't know for sure.

I remember back in America; the band-aids there protected from infection and helped heal the sore beneath it. I guess these weren't your American band-aids.

Monica.

My hair... it is straight! [More pictures.]

YES! Low and behold, the dry wavy curly mass that was on my head, is now straight! [cheers] My hair now billows in the wind [yay]. It gets in my food sometimes [not really yay], but nonetheless, it is long and it is pretty.

The best part: it made my hair LESS damaged. Wait, how? "Chemically straightening/rebonding your hair is very violent on your hair." Yeah, right. If that's so true, then why is my hair healthier looking, eh? Anyway, I love it. Then it started looking bland, so I got highlights. Now I love my hair more than ever.

PICTURES! Yes, I have pictures of the process. [Oops, I forgot a 'done' picture! Haha...]
Picture 1
Picture 2
Picture 3
Picture 4

Next.

I thought mom would like this picture, because I know she likes angels and is proud of me being over here.
Thai Angels

Then...
Holly made desserts!
Awww, look at them! All cute in their dessert-way. Check out the pumpkin one!

Last.
Getting my hair highlighted... with alien technology?!
THEY BE EATIN' MY BRAINZ.

The other day, Holly, Virginia, Dan and I went bowling at the mall [on the fourth floor]. It was a ton of fun, and we ate some eggrolls, too. I finally made it over 80 [I'm bad, so what], while Holly complains she only got 107. She did better than all four of us! [evil eye squinch] However! We all had a TON of fun, then we proceeded to the escalator. When we reached the bottom, the three girls [inc. me] decide to go to the photo shops and get a mini-series of "professional" pictures taken!!! I'm thinking about how expensive it will be, while the other two are primping themselves, reading for the pictures. I ask the prices and find out: you don't pay for the sittings or number of poses you take pictures with. You only pay for the pictures you want to purchase when you are completely done [the ordered pictures]. Even still, the pictures alone cost cheap anyway. After the shoots, we paid ahead for the pictures and got a 'holding' ticket so when we came back the next day [or sometime soon], we could pick them up. Low and behold, the next day, we came and picked them up. These are how they turned out [they're much better as the pictures themselves - the scans don't do them justice].

...and if you look over there...
Haha, squish.
Don't blame me, the monkey started it!
Er... uncaptionable?
Giraffe pose.
Group shot.
Circle.
The hat tip.
The pile.
All I can say is, "Yo."
Pillow fight! [the room is absorbed in my malicious laughter - Muahaha!!!]
*snore*

Okay. I'm done for now with picturesss.

Except, I did hold this picture off for awhile. I didn't know where to put it. This picture was taken quite awhile ago, when I was in Kanchanaphisek. I asked Pi-Wi to take it for me because I thought my mother would be a little surprised... I'm pinning the tableskirt to the table. I then adjusted the pins in the other side [that Pi-Wi put in] so people wouldn't stab themselves with pins when they lifted their legs up [she had put them vertically, point down. I adjusted them so the pins were horizontal]. So this picture is mainly a "for mom" picture.
http://a789.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/67/l_9386d57e120275c244d97dd0ca7142a4.jpg

Also, mom. You wanted to know what the Kanchanaphisek campus looked like? I didn't have time to run around campus and take snapshots, but there was a model in building one of the campus that I took pictures of. I hope it works...
Building One... Not a model view.

Model view 1: The houses on the right are owned by the school and are available to live in for free for the teachers.
Model view 2: Sports fields and a few buildings.
Model view 3: Bottom left in clockwise manner: Flag pole, Building One (administration, phone office, offices, etc.), "Canteen" (cafeteria, DELICIOUS food and awesome people), Communications building (Floor two on windows closest view to us is the English room I'm usually in. Right underneath is one of the internet rooms), building, building, fields.
Model view 4: Better views of Building One and the Canteen.
Model view 5: Building on far left closest to us, on the very top floor, is the internet café.
Model view 6: Buildings.

Well, this entry is done.

Later!

Moni.