In Bangkok there are many quick, cheap ways to get around the city. If I wanted to zip up and down my soi, street, I would hail a motorbike and for a minimal cost, hop on the back and be whizzed to my destination. The first time I did this I`d just come back from the local supermarket loaded with bags so asked one of the local drivers to take me back to my apartment. Usually they stopped outside the school gate as, unless it was raining, the guards wouldn`t let them go in. Because it was so hot, I`d opted to wear a dress instead of my habitual Indian gear. Had I been brave I would have trusted the driver enough to sit sidesaddle but, being afraid I`d fall off, I simply hiked my dress up, swung my leg over and plonked myself behind him. Bad move. The poor man was so distracted by the sight of my blindingly white legs he kept taking his eyes off the road. We had a rather swerving ride all the way up the street.

One evening, Sue, my colleague, and I betook ourselves to the local mall for dinner. Having repasted fully, when we got back to the bottom of our street we decided to walk home instead of getting either a bike or a truck. There were little ones where you could sit in the back, tap the bar which ran behind your back with your coins where you wanted to get off, then pay the driver. She and I rapidly became so well known the drivers automatically dropped us off outside our local laundry, the disembarkation point for anyone going to school. There was a light shower that evening and as we strolled up the soi we saw a guy taking a leak against a tree. When he turned and saw two foreign women, he didn`t bother putting his equipment away, rather he decided to do something else with it. Naturally we ignored him and walked on. He jumped on his bike and at every little intersection would miraculously appear, tool in hand, and continue where he left off.  Our pace quickened and we were glad to reach the school gates. When we told the teachers we worked with, they suggested we go to the police but it would have done no good as the guy had kept his helmet over his face. Like we would have recognized him anyway what with it being dark and besides what kind of a line up could the police have convened? Right handed men of average height, red and black motorcycle helmets with visors lowered and mother nature`s gifts on display? No thank you. We referred to him privately as The Masturbating Buddhist. Poor Sue was mortified that such a thing could happen in Thailand. It always seems that rain prompts weirdos to let it all hang out as I had a similar experience last year in Italy. Why men think their bits are of the slightest interest to complete strangers is a mystery.

Speaking of mysteries, I`ve been thinking about a few more.

Are there any left handed golfers? I`ve never seen any.

Reporters holding pens. Have you noticed that when they want to seem deep and important usually when interviewing someone, they`ll hold a pen - which they never use.

CNN reporters saying Take a listen. How on earth do you take a listen?

Why is the American baseball championship called The World Series when it only involves the US and Canada? 

Installing software is a nightmare. Why is it after installing something, the computer doesn`t recognise it? Why must you faff about four or five times to do something which should be done once?

Why do joggers always look so grim? Is it the determination to get to their chosen destination before death comes to collect them?

Well readers, it a mild, sunny day here and I`m off to enjoy it. Wherever you are, enjoy what you do too.

One time in Bangkok, one of the Thai teachers offered to take myself and the other Aussie teacher on a tour of the city. She was Catholic but had been told by a Buddhist fortune teller that if she visited lots of places of worship, particularly Hindu ones, she would be lucky. So the plan was to visit temples in the centre of the city. Sue, the other teacher, and I had never been on a water taxi so asked if we could do this first. It was a lot of fun especially as we got on at the first stop and didn't have to get off until the last. Everyone else had to jump on and off as the taxi didn't slow down for very long. It was also dangerous in that it moved so fast that the water would splash. The Chao Praya River is filthy and we were all conscious of staying in the middle of the taxi to avoid getting wet.

We got off and headed towards Wat Po. This is possibly the most famous Buddbist temple in BKK. This is where I saw the giant reclining Buddha with the solid silver feet. Outside the temple we got a taste of Thai price and farang - foreigner price. BKK is always hot and we three stopped at a street vendor to buy some delivious diced fruit in a bag. The Thai teacher was charged next to nothing but we were charged a lot more even though it was obvious we were all together. When I say a lot more, it was still virtually nothing and we didn't hesitate to pay but the vendor had the good grace to look embarrassed. We toured Wat Po then went across the river to Wat Arun, The Temple of the Dawn. This is such a beautiful, delicate confection of a building but alas we couldn't go in as it was in dire need or renovation so we had to be content to simply walk around the grounds. The monks here seemed to be a worldly lot because they tried to beckon us over to chat to them. I had my fortune told while I was there and I'd like to say it was something amazing but no, just the usual 'you're going to be rich' stuff. From there we went into the centre of town to a Hindu temple. It's customary to buy a garland, usually made of orchids, to take inside. We did this, went in, were greeted by the priests and had red marks put on our foreheads. This concluded our temple visits and our guide was sure she'd gotten a shed load of luck out of it. We started for home but on the bus. Peak hour traffic in BKK is horrendous. What should have take perhaps an hour in normal time took over three hours because it was literally gridlock most of the way. We were lucky enough to get seats and as the time ticked by we grew more and more tired. At one point when I look out of the window into the dark street I thought I was hallucinating for I could see three elephants beside me. I actually blinked and shook my head but when I looked again they really were there. It's illegal to have them in the city but because there's no work for them in the country anymore, their mahouts bring them in so the tourists will buy them bananas and perhaps give a little money.

Happy birthday.

So readers, we're still at Sriracha Tiger Zoo having been escorted by police outriders all the way. It's a hot day and we're all grateful to get under shade. The first thing we see is an enormous tank which curiousity impels us to look into. What do we spy but a live shark which makes us jump back in alarm. Then we have to look again just to prove to ourselves we're not a complete wuss.

Next up it's a look at all the acquariums with their beautiful fish, exotic plants and interesting posted information. Look at all those tiny, tiny seahorses and seadragons. Who would have thought that something so small and delicate could survive in the open, let alone a controlled environment.

What's this? It's sow feeding her own piglets and a couple of tiger cubs. Manners are being observed as there's no pushing or shoving. Perhaps the piglets know they would come off a bad second if they took on a cub.

Off to the glassed in display of African men and women dressed in tiger skins posing with live, adult tigers. Lots of tigers in Africa, obviously.

'Would you like to have your photo taken holding a tiger cub?' Would I?!!!! Absolutely. So I plonked myself down and a cub of about three months was brought to me on a ratty old towel. It had a bottle of milk in its mouth and all I had to do was let it sit in my lap and hold the bottle while it fed. I had the brainwave to try and remove the bottle but it's amazing how a baby tiger's growl can make you change your mind pretty damn quick. Naturally I stroked him - or maybe it was a her, I wasn't going to try and sex it - and the fur was quite rough.

'Would you like to ride the elephant?' Would I?!!!! Is the Pope Catholic? (Not said in front of the nun who accompanied us, though). Off I went to the elephant enclosure. From a distance it didn't look so big but boy was I wrong. It was flipping huge! I had to climb a tower, the elephant was 'parked' next to it and to get on I had to put my foot on its head, sit on the seat then slide to the middle so I felt safe-ish. Away we went, swaying to and fro. It was a very unusual and pleasant sensation. The way the animal moves, your hips and waist get a work out. Perhaps that could be something for the Hollywood crowd to look into - elephant-a-lates. I wondered what would happen if the creature went berserk and suddenly took off but I think he/she was much too docile for that. If I ever get the chance to visit India, an elephant ride is definitely on the 'must do again' list.

After a fabulous day out it was back on the bus for the police escorted trip to school. We did have a minor incident on my bus - one of the tyres blew out. We lurched sickeningly to the left which caused quite a few little ones to topple off their seats. Fortunately no major injuries, just cuts and bruises but lots of scared children and a few rattled teachers. Parents following en masse in their Mercs swiftly descended on us saying they knew something bad would happen as they scooped up their offspring. Those who were parentless for the day got back on the bus for the rest of the trip. Needless to say nothing more happened and we all arrived safe and sound.

Tomorrow: Another Thai adventure.

 This is a Thai adventure. My very first teaching job was in the Catholic school I mentioned before, over 4,000 students and I got the 30 cutest - 15 little girls, 15 little boys, aged 6-8.

I'd trained to teach English but here I was employed to be the Grade One teacher. A piece of cake you might think but my first two days I felt sick to my stomach with nerves. All these little expectant faces looking up at me and I felt at a total loss. I had a Thai teacher with me at all times so in the beginning she did a lot of translating but kids being kids, they picked up English like little sponges.

The kids were great. Happy most of the time and willing to learn. These kids spent virtually 7 days a week learning lessons. They were dropped off at school by their chauffeurs - most of them came from rich families - around 7am and were picked up again towards 6-7pm! They were expected to sit and study before morning assembly then they had to attend after school lessons too. Some were sent to school for Saturday morning lessons then had private tutors for the afternoon and all day Sunday yet they never complained, were never demotivated, they just accepted it. Try imposing that sort of regime anywhere but in Asia.

The dynamics between the kids were fun to watch. There were two boys, Pee (short for Peerachai) and Ham. Nicknames only used here. They were forever fighting. I felt sorry for Pee as the Thai teacher didn't like him very much and was always cross with him. There was one incident when he'd done something to displease her and she called him a hooligan which is a dreadful insult to a Thai. The boy was devastated and sobbed uncontrollably. I wanted to hug him but she pushed my hands away and told me that he didn't deserve to be hugged. When she left I did it anyway. He and Ham I suspect are now the best of friends but for that one year I was constantly trying to mediate their disputes - who threw the first punch, who didn't, who said what bad thing etc.

There was a little girl named Pear who was very sensitive. She wanted to do her best at all times and if she felt she wasn't able to do something, she would cry. First the chin would start to wobble, then her little shoulders would heave, her right hand, palm facing outward, would cover her right eye, then the tears would come. It was hard not to smile when that happened.  

This being a wealthy school, it was decided one day that Grades 1,2 and 3 of the English Language Programme would have a day trip to Chonburi, a southern province to visit the Sriracha Tiger Zoo. Two double decker buses were ordered but the parents were concerned that there might be an accident or that the drivers would drive too fast and so insisted that we have a police escort to and from the zoo. Not a difficult thing to arrange when one of the mothers was married to the chief of the police service. So we duly got outriders who rode, lights flashing, clearing the way for our buses. Even this wasn't enough for some parents. They came with us, following in their Mercs and such. It was surreal.

The zoo was fabulous. They had a large tank with a live shark in it, an aquariam, some tanks full of the cutest little seahorses and seadragons, a display of a sow feeding piglets and tiger cubs - which prompted the nun who came with us to talk about a bible quotation about lions, lambs and such, a bizarre glassed in display of some Africans dressed in tiger skins posing with full grown tigers, an impressive gymnastic display by the same people although not with the tigers (which would have made it far more exciting) and an elephant.

To be continued. 

Ciao Fabio. Lei giusto. La televisione italiana no e migliore o piu difettosa (peggiore) della televisione in altri paesi. Mi piaccono i (gli?) game shows con Carlo Conti oppure Gerry Scotti, con o senza le velene.

Fabio reminded me that Italian TV is no better or worse than anywhere else but forgive me F, I have to share an Italian programming story with my readers.

The Wheel of Fortune is broadcast in just about every country I suspect. The Italian version used to be a day time show until the bigwigs decided to make it an early evening one targeting the demographic audience 18-35. The studio audience and contestants also generally fell into this age range. The host is Enrico Papi, a man who speaks at a million miles an hour. Italians are fond of saying he talks a lot but doesn´t say anything.

One contestant was Patrizia, a woman approaching 35, wild blonde hair, surgically enhanced anatomy, miniscule clothes which strained to cover her ample cleavage and pert bottom, who spoke with a baby voice. Whenever it was her turn to spin the wheel, Enrico, who had bought into her little act, would actually demonstrate the motion while saying very slowly ´gira la ruota´. She would then choose a letter ´la m di ma-ma; la l di lu-na´I´ve hyphenated the words to give you the idea of how slowly and breathily she pronounced them. Well, Patrizia had an opportunity to select prizes from the cave. She was given 30 seconds to pull whatever she could off the prize heap. She tottered off the contestants platform in her perilously high heels and Enrico explained what she had to do a couple of times because her attention wandered. ´Patrizia, look at me / Listen to me.´ Her 30 seconds began and the first prize she chose was a treadmill. Now most people would grab this piece of equipment by the handles and push it. Not our Patrizia. She bent over and grasped it by the rear wheels. It was here that the entire viewing public got to see all of her ass because she was wearing a thong. In this position, she dragged the machine away. Enrico was closest to her and I thought the way he grabbed his heart he was going to have a heart attack. He did the next best thing. He became part of the prize pool and put a price on himself but first he had to tell her to run and pick another prize because, having got the machine to the middle of the floor, she promptly sat on it!  She minced back to the prizes and chose a second thing but her time was up. She then complained about what she´d won saying she didn´t like them, hadn´t understood what she had to do and so wanted to choose other things. Enrico, her knight in shining armour, immediately leaped to her defense and agreed that yes, it´s not her fault she didn´t understand, she should choose something else. I can only imagine the people off camera shaking their heads vigorously and telling him to think with his head. I also wonder what his wife made of it all.

Game shows are a great way to learn the vocabulary of another language. Fortune and Who Wants To Be A Millionaire have been enormously helpful to me. I salute Italian television in all its glory. It has its good and bad programmes but it´s always entertaining.