Big Ups to Teachers: The Balkans

As I travel, I see more and more families with young children, backpacking together and learning about history, art, language and working with people from all walks of life by exploring countries foreign to their own. Of course, they are typically non-American and typically Caucasian; regardless, I find myself both envious and hopeful that one day when I have children of my own, I will have the wherewithal to expose them to other cultures through travel.

St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral  - Bulgaria

When my mother was traveling with me, I asked her why she and my dad never thought to take me and my brother to countries outside of North America and her answer was that they simply didn’t know that these things were possible. The thought of packing up your family and going someplace like Vietnam was so foreign that it wasn’t even a thought. It occured to me that at times, parents can only teach their children the extent of what they know.  However, good parents, like my own, will always try to make sure that their children grow to know, see and experience more than they did.

Statue of Skanderbeg - Albania

I can recall getting signed up for everything under the sun, when I was a kid. I went to pottery classes, clarinet and piano lessons, taekwondo classes, the Math Olympics, 4-H, and Girl Scouts. When you’re a kid, you don’t appreciate these things. I just wanted to watch Thunder Cats, collect Garbage Pail Kids cards, and play with my brother’s Castle Grey Skull and that’s it! Now that I’m older, I recognize that my mother understood that you have to enlist the help of good neighbors, knowledgeable friends and family, and more importantly effective teachers in order to erect a solid base for your children to stand on. Without knowing the word for it or having studied the concept, my parents were practicing synergy. Synergy is the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts; it’s teamwork.

So, when people learn about my trip and say, “Wow, who told you that you could do this?” or “Who gave you the idea to travel like this?” I can’t say, “Oh, I grew up traveling. My parents took me on excursions through South East Asia as a kid.” However, I can point to the multitude of people who my parents introduced me to and who at one point or another poured into me. 

Kale Fortress - Macedonia

It was my mom’s friend Shari Hamilton, who was very passionate about doing the things she loved and would quit her job in a heartbeat to follow her dreams. She was the first black woman I knew personally who fearless, worldy, well read, and well traveled.

It was my elementary school teacher, Marty Richardson, who taught me what stereotypes were and systematically tried to break them by exposing me to Homer’s Iliad, figure skating and the wonders of Folk music. “You can like what you want. Do what you want and be what you want. You are not a stereotype,” she would say.  

The Prizren Hammam  - Kosovo

It was my middle school geography teacher, Mr. McCord, who made us listen to Pink Floyd and watch slides of his adventures backpacking through foreign countries. He jump started my wanderlust. It was a high school economics teacher, who taught me about Adam Smith and the concept of making choices and accepting consequences. 

It was my Aunt Johnette, who would pull me to the side, give me a dollar or two and whisper, “It doesn’t matter if you are married or single, a woman should always put aside some money for herself.” All of the people worked like a team with my mom, who along with our prayers would make my brother and I recite “when I grow up I want to be self-sufficient, independent, and very intelligent.”

Memorial House of Mother Teresa - Macedonia

Teachers, both formal and informal, are the greatest resources in the world. Period. Hands Down.

So, I’ve written this entire diatribe and you have to be wondering where this is all coming from…. Well, Chad and I just finished traveling through major cities in a good part of the Balkans (including: Greece, Albania, Kosovo, Macedonia and Bulgaria) and my mouth is on the floor!

Let’s be honest...We ate our way through many of these countries. So my mouth could literally be on the floor because it’s exhausted from chewing big hearty meats, enormous vegetables and ridiculous amounts of bread. Side note: I have never in my life walked away from a table and while trying to keep my tights from automatically rolling down, longingly wished for the prospect of diarrhea. Yet, I did this almost nightly.  Great food!

Where was I?

Changing of the Guards (President's Office) - Bulgaria

Yes, my mouth is on the floor because I am seeing and walking into places that I only learned about from teachers and it’s absolutely surreal.  I’m looking at castles in the countryside of Albania and Kosovo that once housed the Kings in the history books my teachers taught from; ruins in Greece and Bulgaria that were the backdrop to stories teachers introduced me to; stomping grounds for Jesus, Paul and all of them that preachers use teach me about; and massive and old churches and cathedrals that were built before them. 

For example, we walked up on a statue the other day and I asked Chad, “Who is that?”  “Alexander the Great,” Chad responded. “I thought he was Greek,” I said. “Nope. Macedonian. Do you remember when…” he continued in a history lesson that I recalled having learned in school. This was another, “Holy crap! That happened right here!” moment and I was feeling really overwhelmed; overwhelmed by my surroundings; overwhelmed that I was getting the opportunity to see these things first hand; and overwhelmed by my journey. I am immensely grateful and God is so awesome that it’s scary sometimes.

 Czar Samuil Statue - Macedonia

I know I write these “I’m so grateful” posts often and it can get tiring, but please bear with me, there’s a purpose.  First, I have to pinch myself sometimes to realize that I’m actually doing this, that I’m actually here, and writing it down is the best way I know to make it concrete. Secondly, I think it is vital to expose yourself and your children to international travel and all that can be learned from it (especially black folks). Again, writing it down and sharing it is the best way I can express the emotional and social impact this trip has had, in hopes that others will take the leap. Lastly, I am nothing but a dwarf standing on the shoulders of giants, so I absolutely need to pay homage and say thank you to any and every teacher who has poured into me. I am in the midst of living my dreams and it would not have been possible without the teachers in my life.

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

War Memorial - Kosovo

Partisan Statue - Albania

Ivan Vazov National Theatre - Bulgaria

Alexander the Great - Macedonia

Sunset - Patras, Greece

Ampitheatre at the Acropolis - Greece

St Alexander Nevsky (Daylight) - Bulgaria

George W. Bush Street (He is loved in these parts) - Albania

Millenium Cross - Macedonia

Up in the Air: Greece

It’s probably too late to mention this, but I’m not very comfortable flying.

I’m not sure if it’s control issues or the fact that I’ve had some really horrible flights in the past. Take for example, the flight we took home from a National Cheerleading competition in high school. During the landing, that flight dipped, dived and shot back up into the sky so frequently and so violently that a flight attendant had to hold a trash bag out at the end to collect all of the puke bags.

Or take the flight my husband and I were on to Denver. He wasn't my husband then and we had purchased our tickets seperately. Unfortunately, he was upgraded to first class and of course ditched me in coach, where I was the only adult in the back amongst three rows of Girl’s Scouts. (I promise you that I cannot make this stuff up!) The weather was so bad that after a four minute death defying attempt to land, the pilot aborted the landing at the last possible moment. I still remember screaming so loudly that the Girl Scouts began consoling me. “Lady, it’s okay. We will be alright.” I was supposed to be the adult in that situation and it still shames me that it ended that way.

Someone once told me that you have to watch the flight attendants to know if something is wrong. So once on a flight to Tokyo, we hit a really awful patch of turbulence and the pilot screamed over the microphone in English, no less, “Flight attendants take your seats!”  When those heffas took off running to their seats like NFL wedge busters… Well, you can imagine that I was convinced that that was going to be the very last flight I would ever be on.

With all of this said, you have to understand that at this very moment, I’m freaking the hell out! After one cancelled flight, we are finally on our way to Athens from Istanbul and the pilot has just announced that we will have to take off ten minutes later than scheduled because the Greek air traffic controllers are on strike. ”Strike?! As in not working?!” In my mind, I’m raising my hand… “Um… out of curiosity… aren’t air traffic controllers an important component of flying?” We are on the runway, I can’t go anywhere, I am sweating and having day dreams of a free for all of planes gunning it for the runway in a blind attempt to land themselves in some orderly manner similar to a Black Friday sale at Wal-Mart. Nothing good can come of this.

Fortunately, the strike was just ending, not beginning, and we actually made it to Greece in one piece; but boy was the airport empty. I mean EMPTY! I could have carried a kilo of coke on my back through customs, like a real mule, and no one would have been the wiser. What is going on here?

Answer: Protests and Strikes!

The Greeks are pissed and although I’ve had my head in the sand, in regards to news, for much of the last five months, I do know that it has something to do with the austerity measures the government had put into place to attempt to control their debt. I asked our host, Stelios, who owns the fabulous B&B Chad and I stayed at, what the specific complaint was and he broke it down.

He stated that Greece’s entrance into the European Union opened the flood gates for international trade. “The local manufactures cannot compete with the low costs of Chinese goods and have had to close their companies.” Like all snow balls, when one industry falls it affects the buying power of the people working in that industry and that affects other industries (e.g. retail) and the ball keeps rolling. In his opinion, this situation in corroboration with what was occurring in the international markets, lead to the downslide of Greece’s national economy. Unfortunately, the government had run up a large deficit during the “Golden Year’s” and now that the money wasn’t flowing they were having a difficult time paying their debts. In order to “help” Greece keep paying its debts, the IMF offered a bail out in exchange for changes (austerity measures) that Greece would have to implement in order to cut spending etc.

This is an over-simplified version of the situation there, but the gist is that the austerity measures the government has agreed upon have reduced the quality of living in Greece, drastically increased taxes and also lowered salaries in some industries. As a result of this, the Greek people are rightfully upset that they are left “holding the bag” because of government overspending, corporate greed, and corruption and they want change; thus the protests and strikes. Sounds familiar, right?

Chad and I were only supposed to be in Greece for six days, but as tourists we have to succumb to what is happening in the environment we are in, so our plans changed. For example, a year ago when I was planning my trip, the initial plan was to take the train from Istanbul to Athens. However, as a result of the austerity measures, Greece has cut all international train service in and out of the country; so ferries, buses, and planes are the only way to reach it. Mr. McKelvey was not sitting on a bus for 20+ hours, so we flew. The first flight was cancelled due to the air traffic controllers strike; the second flight was late. The next day the buses were on strike and the following day the trains were on strike. Figuring out which day we could leave the country on the cheapest possible route was proving difficult.

Despite the protest situation, we enjoyed our time in Athens by visiting the Acropolis, the Parthenon, and the Temple of Zeus. We also visited the beautiful all white marbled Panathenaic Stadium where the first modern Olympics took place.  We walked for miles around the city and enjoyed Walking Street, where we ate like crazy people, and Syntagma Square, also known as "Constitution Square", where many of the protests in Athens began. There is so much to see in Athens and in the surrounding areas, but the transportation issues took a heavy toll on our planning, so we ended up only staying three days and attempted to make our way west to Albania as soon as possible.

After a marathon bus ride through little coastal towns and along miles and miles of beaches, we eventually made it to Patras, Greece. This little town is a main port between Greece and Italy and we were so tempted to just hop on boat and spend the rest of our time in Italy. However, we stuck to the plan and Patras proved interesting enough, as the town was essentially DEAD during the daylight hours and the businesses, bars and restaurants all opened after dark around 8:00 pm and stayed open until dawn. I have never seen anything like this and I think this would be a great town for Edward and Bella to live.

But I digress…

Like Athens, Patras had its own fair share of protests and protest concerts, which are far more fun, but can get just as rowdy; so, Chad and I don’t stay long and keep moving. As we continued our way towards Albania, I couldn’t help to notice the irony in this entire situation. At this very moment, there are protests in the streets of New York for much of the same reasons that they are protesting in Greece.  The world is so small and very interconnected; but, while I’m naively moving around it, educating myself, things are happening in my own country that will have a major impact on me. Although these issues are having such a strong influence on both my home country and my host country, I feel like an observer, rather than a participant in both. Much like my bad flights, this time through Greece was simply like hitting turbulence on your way to somewhere else. And for the first time, I’m starting to realize that the landing back home may be just as rough. My future is, figuratively, up in the air.

“Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. We will be landing in the world of reality shortly. Thank you.”

All the Single Ladies: Turkey

“Why your husband no come with you?” This has been the question repeated over and over again in nearly every country I’ve been in. “He has to work,” is my natural response and that typically shuts them up because they assume that I’m traipsing around the world on his dime and quite frankly, that takes bank! Well, I’m finally in Turkey and I’m excited that I no longer have to answer that question. Chad is here!

Here’s the thing, a female traveling the world alone can garner a lot of attention. There are the cab drivers that drive pass you making loud kissing sounds in the air. There’s the man who stares at you for seven full minutes and then follows you for four blocks trying to ask you out in English. There’s the hello kiss on both cheeks that abruptly moves to the mouth. Lastly, there’s the blatant disregard for your marital status – “It’s okay if we go out, I’m married too.” If I were single, I’d be feeling myself and having a ball, but I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still feeling myself, but all of this attention, day after day, can wear a sista out!

Chad’s cousin once said that when women cheat it’s because of emotional reasons; they aren’t getting something in their marriage. However, when men cheat it’s more likely because they saw something and figured, “Hey! I’ve never had that before.” Men are visual creatures and I knew before I left, that in Asia I’d be a walking “I’ve never had that before.” So, I wasn’t surprised by the attention as much as how forward men were.  I have never, never, never had so many men approach me so aggressively in my life. At first it was flattering, then it gave pause, and finally it became a “C’mon son! Really?” type of situation. 

In India, I finally stopped and asked a man who I had conducted business with a few times whether the exorbitant amount of attention was because I was “different”, because I was considered pretty in their culture, or because I was alone. “Well, it’s probably a little of all three, but I think it’s so bad because you are alone.” Talk about having the wind in your sails suddenly vacuumed out! I was beginning to think that the world couldn’t handle the cocoa brown, voluptuous, fine piece of architecture that is I, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Good thing I have a healthy self-esteem.

My friend explained that in much of Asia, especially India, women are not allowed to travel alone. I had heard this theory before in China from a student who declared that “We would never let our females travel by themselves! We care about our women!” (Crickets…”Um… Are you implying that no one cares about me?”) Even though I was familiar with this argument, the feminist in me had to push a little. “What do you mean by “allow”?” I asked my Indian friend. “Is it against the law?” He explained that it wasn’t against the law, but that even asking to do such a thing would bring shame onto the family and that that female may not be welcomed back to the family if she left. “So,” he continued, “you may be approached so much because you are being viewed as easy.” Comprehension… I’m not irresistible, just low hanging fruit. LOVELY (insert heavy sarcasm here)!

Needless to say, when Chad said that he would meet me in Turkey, I was happy that the one person who found me irresistible enough to marry me was coming out to see me after nearly four months apart. I was also happy to get a break from the men folk! It’s Europe and my husband is with me, this should be stress free. WRONG!!

Turkish men are bold AND smart; they wait until he leaves and then they approach. This is far more stressful than being alone for the sole reason that my husband is crazy, deranged.  Instead of laughing off or ignoring the strokes against my arm, the cheek to cheek kisses that are far too frequent and way too close to my mouth and the invites for Turkish coffee being whispered in my ear, now I’m begging dude to back up before my husband gets back. “Go!! Run for yo freedom!!” I want to say urgently like Harriet Tubman helping them to escape the possibility of torture. Mr. McKelvey does not suffer fools gladly and it should be apparent to anyone around that only a crazy dude would “allow” his wife to quit her job, cash in her retirement, and leave to travel the world by herself for a long period of time.

Funny, but the word “allow” keeps coming up when talking about marriage and its possibilities. It’s one of those words that I understand, but that simultaneously pisses me off. Again, the feminist in me wants to rear its head and say, “I’m a grown ass woman!”, but the wife in me understands that if my husband had been emphatic about his objections over my travel decisions, then this trip would have been dead in the water. I value my marriage as much as my passion for travel. So, did he “allow” me to go? Yes, but he views it more as “did he allow me to grow?”  The answer is still: Yes! 

This is the beautiful part about being in a relationship with someone who understands your personality and your dreams. Someone who would rather be viewed as un-traditional, then bind you to a traditional role that doesn’t quite fit. This is marriage on our terms. This is love. So, yeah, my husband is crazy! Crazy in love and I’m cool with that! As a matter of fact, I’m crazy too. (Ladies, please read deeply between the lines of that! I’m not a fighter, but I’m smart and ain’t nothing worse than a smart AND crazy, heffa! I’m just saying...)

But I digress…

Chad and I had did it up in Turkey; but, like my mother, it took a minute for him to get acclimated to this life. Give him credit though! At least he lasted one night in the hostel, before he booked a hotel! It was funny though because throughout Turkey, much like a bull in a china shop, he knocked over and ran into more things than I thought was possible. “Everything is so small here!” he kept saying. The funniest part was visiting the Turkish Hammam, which he absolutely did not want to do once he found out that only men bathed you. “I’m going to hurt somebody if they touch the wrong thing!” After forty minutes of sweating, while lying on a heated slab, he couldn’t wait to be bathed and finally admitted that he enjoyed the experience.

We also enjoyed seeing Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, and shopping at the Grand Bazaar, where Mr. McKelvey said “no” to absolutely anything with too much color. “Where are you going to where that in New York?!!” Hater... We spent ample time walking around Taksim and Sultanamet, talking and eating and visiting museums like the MOMA. However, we missed visiting Toppaki Palace as I have now decided to head home at the end of the year, instead of the end of January and time is now a concern. Nevertheless, I had fun exploring Istanbul with my husband and know that the next few weeks are going to be very interesting indeed.

Straight Debauchery: Thailand

WARNING: If you are visiting my blog because Reverend Yolanda came to your BaptiPentaHoliness Church and told you that her daughter was traveling around the world and that you should read her blog, then I beg you to please hold your mule and pass this post. This ain’t for you. If your momma sent you here to see what I was up to and you are under the age of consent, please log off. I will get back to you with something more appropriate in about 5-7 business days. If you are a college recruiter and are reading this as a part of your investigation into whether I would make an ideal candidate for your doctoral program, then please note that this post is not a complete reflection of my character. Nevertheless, it does show that I exhibit a willingness to engage in activities outside of my purview.

I had absolutely no plans of going to Pattaya, Thailand. All of the guide books suggested that it was a major party town and since drinking solo is slightly depressing, I figured I’d spend my days somewhere else. Then my brother advised that his ship was docking in Pattaya for the week and my sister-in-law, Miki, was flying out to meet him. My little brother is in the Navy and as many of you are aware from my bungee fiasco, he lives in Japan. He was underway when I visited Japan and I hadn’t seen him in over a year, so I figured I would catch up with them in Pattaya.

Me: Do you guys want to upgrade to a suite with two rooms or should I book my own room?

My Brother: I haven’t seen my wife in 40 days.

Me: Got it! I will book my own room.

I met up with Miki at Bangkok International Airport and we rode into Pattaya together. The hotel was beautiful and everything was in order, so we checked in and proceeded to our separate rooms. As the bell hop took us to the elevator, I noticed a poster on the wall encased in glass.  The poster essentially stated that this hotel establishment does not support child prostitution and will report those who engage in it to the authorities. “Oh, that’s nice,” I thought and continued to my room. Now, it was late and it really didn’t hit me until after I sat down and de-stressed, but I was confused.

• How odd... Normally glassed encased posters in hotels say something about the hotels excellent customer service rating or the breakfast buffet offered in the morning, but this one was about the illegality of child prostitution. Isn’t that a no-brainer?
•  What the hell do they mean by “THIS” establishment?!  Are there other establishments that do support child prostitution?
•  Why just list child prostitution? What about adults? Isn’t it all illegal?
•  Where am I, really? And what have I gotten myself into?

I needed to know more about Pattaya, so I immediately looked to my best friend: Google. Apparently, Pattaya was a fisherman’s village long before it got its claim to fame as the sex tourism capital of the world. There is a lot of interesting information out there about the history of the Pattaya, the Isaan  Village girls who provide fuel for the prostitution in these areas and the Russian Mafia that organizes the industry to the benefit of those with more “eccentric” taste. It was a lot to undertake in one night, so I sat that information aside in the “dormant” file in my mind because being locked up abroad is not on my bucket list and neither is engaging in child prostitution, legal or not, so I wouldn’t need to access that information anytime soon.

 

The next morning I woke up and had breakfast with my family. I actually really missed my brother and was happy to just sit and talk to him. However, I didn’t want to be a third wheel in their reunion of love, so we made plans to all hang out the next evening and I set out to conquer Pattaya alone. Once you get pass all of the old, white men walking around town with young Asian women on their arms (real old… like, where is your colostomy bag old), then you really start to take in Pattaya.

Pattaya’s main streets are essentially a smorgasbord of massage and spa services. Some places are legitimate and offer foot reflexology, Thai massages and other spa services.  Other places are also legitimate, by Pattaya standards, but they offer “happy endings” along with your massage. For a novice, like myself, figuring out which was which was a little difficult. However, after visiting several different parlors I found two distinctions. First, a lot of the happy endings type of massage places offered “body-to-body”, “intimate massages”, or a “Soapy massage.” Secondly, many of these places have a “fish bowl.” A fish bowl is a glass enclosure with women sitting behind it and they typically have a number on them so you can choose which fish you’d like to service you.

The world famous Tiffany Show!

With supply and demand being what they are, you can imagine how cheap massage and spa services can be in Pattaya. So, I reckoned I’d get caught up on some much needed maintenance. I found two salons that I liked and figured I would get a Thai massage and Body Scrub at one and all my other services at the other. I went to the other first and started ordering. “I need a mani, pedi, and my eyebrows waxed. As a matter of fact, getting a Brazilian is on my bucket list, so let’s do that too!” Side Note: I’m not sure who created this evil, sadistic, cruel, and torturous procedure, but it should have stayed on my bucket list never having been unearthed! If Jesus comes back for just his hairless followers, my ass will be left behind. I will NEVER do that again. EVER!

Having never experienced that type of trauma, I wasn’t aware that getting a body scrub or even going into the ocean after getting a Brazilian is out. (Apparently salt and wounded flesh doesn’t mix well…) However, the technician keyed me in to the follow up procedures and I opted for just a Thai massage at the next place.  I left the salon walking much slower than I had entered, but feeling very breezy and headed to the next salon.

A Ladyboy from the Tiffany Show.

Thai massages are a must do in Thailand and I was excited to get all of the travel kinks out. I paid for my massage, changed into the little outfit they gave me and in walks another one of Thailand’s national treasures: a Ladyboy. A “Ladyboy”, as they are called in Thailand, is a pre or post opt male transsexual and Thailand has some of the most beautiful Ladyboys I have ever seen. They are so beautiful that when my brother, Miki and I went to the Tiffany Show, which is an all Ladyboy show, later that week, Miki said, “Man, I need to step my game up. I want to be a Ladyboy!”

Whatever the case, Thai massages are really vigorous and detailed and this Ladyboy cracked stuff in my back that I didn’t even know existed.  She kneeled on me, stood on me, crawled on me, and walked on me. She used her feet, knees, and elbows and I had my arms and legs in the air, off to the side and was in more positions then the Kama Sutra would allow for. A few years ago, if you had told me that I would crave a cigarette after being completely worked over by a transsexual, I would have laughed in your face. But trust… I have never smoked a cigarette a day in my life, but I swear I wanted to just lay there, light a ciggy and chill in the afterglow; I was shattered.

For the love of money...

After my pleasure and pain day of spa services, I was done. I took three Tylenol and went to bed. I didn’t even wake up for dinner. Day 1 was a wrap, but Day 2 proved to be mind blowing as well. After a marathon shopping spree through Pattaya’s markets and shopping centers, I finally caught up with Miki and my brother. That evening we hit the town in search for the infamous “Walking Street” in Pattaya. Walking street is basically the first block past the gates of hell. Think Mardi Gras or Freak Nik being hosted in Hunts Point, NY in the 1990’s and you have a pretty close idea as to what Walking Street looks like nightly. Anything goes and I literally had to draw a morality line at Donkey Shows. I just can’t do it. What I did go to was a Ping Pong Show. Earlier while in Vietnam, I met a guy who was working in Thailand and he swore that I shouldn’t miss a Ping Pong show if I had the opportunity. So there I was.

For the next two hours, I watched an assortment of debauchery. The show started with a crew of maybe fourteen strippers dancing topless on the stage. Each stripper had a number, remember the fishbowl, and to be quite honest I’ve seen much worse in the U.S., so I wasn’t impressed. Now, I don’t blush easily and have been around the way, but the events that proceeded after the strippers left were unimaginable. The first woman who took the stage had a glass of water with a ping pong  ball in it and for the next ten minutes she engaged in a Kegel muscle workout that would put the “clean and jerk” to shame. Lying on her back, she placed the ping pong into her vagina, pushed her pelvis upward, blew the ball about three feet into the air and then caught it with her hands.  WTF?! Am I really seeing this??

  

At least the tuition is cheap...

I was in awe for the first five minutes, until she blew the ping pong ball so far out that it shot towards a group of aging Japanese men. The way and speed in which those men scattered… OMG… You would have thought that a rat just crawled across the table and tried to attack them. They were horrified and you couldn't have paid them to pick that ball up with a pair of chopsticks! I laughed so hard that my sides hurt! One of the staff members had to actually go over there, pick the ping pong ball off the floor and bring it back to the performer; who without the assistance of at least Windex, took the ball and put it right back inside her vagina. Am I really seeing this?? Then my brother said, “The last time I was here, that happened and a guy caught the ball and licked it.” In one fell swoop, I sobered up fast enough to stop vomit from spewing past my lips.

The show didn’t stop with ping pong balls though. It continued with woman after woman exhibiting her vaginal talents. We saw symphony of whistles being played, a series of candles being blown out and a cigarette being smoked. The finale, however, took the cake. After handing out ten balloons to various people at various distances around the room, I witnessed two girls place blow darts into their vaginas and spin on their backs, systematically taking out each balloon like covert assassins. Am I really seeing this?? Suddenly being able to hold pee for long periods of time just didn’t seem like that big of a deal; these chicks were off the chain.

Sanctuary of Truth!

There’s a lot more to talk about in terms of the underbelly of Pattaya, but the truth is that the sexual energy in that city is so overwhelming that it’s mentally and emotionally draining; especially for someone who hasn’t seen her spouse in over two months.  It's simply too much! After that night I started looking for more family friendly activities that we could all do together, cause I gotta keep my head straight.  So the next day, we went to the Sanctuary of truth.

The Sanctuary of truth is an enormous temple undertaken by an eccentric billionaire and meant to depict the four major philosophical, religious and artistic influences seen in Thailand: Hindu, Khmer, Chinese and Thai. The building is hand carved entirely out of wood and carvers have been working on it for the last 20 years; it is expected to be completed in another 25 years. It is awe inspiring in all of its detail and frankly, I would have gone to Pattaya just to see this. We spent hours there walking the grounds, riding more freaking elephants, getting massages and learning about the building process and I loved it!  This was definitely a fantastic way to spend the day with my brother and his wife and to end my trip to Thailand.  

Carving the walls of the Sanctuary

Every wall in the Sanctuary of Truth is this detailed. AMAZING!