The invitation to my show at Bangkok U.

Each work day I take the long shuttle ride out to the Rangsit campus of Bangkok U, where I have my studio. The shuttle passes a hundred vacant billboards along the way, but I love one in particular that is partially deconstructed. This billboard is attached to the roof of a building somewhere in the city, and my shuttle zooms by it at 60 miles per hour (or is it 80 km/h?) along an elevated highway. Lately, I had been trying to take note of major landmarks near the billboard to see if I could find my way back via some other street level route. I noted some major hotels in the area, looked up their exact location online, and then yesterday, I went on a long walk to find the billboard. The city looks very different from the street level than it does from the highway, but I managed to find the nearby hotel. Rounding a corner filled with highrises, there it was--my favorite billboard, looming above me. I took a few photos, but I thought that I could get a better view from higher up, so I entered the closest building, a Ramada Inn. On a guess, I took an elevator that only went as high as the eighth floor. I exited onto a pool deck where an extremely pale, red-headed man in a speedo was sunning himself. Beyond the man and through some small palms--there was the billboard, at perfectly eye level. It was a gorgeous sight, and I didn't even care that the light was wrong.

Just a quick note. Last night I was watching a really aweful movie at a theatre in Bangkok (I won't mention the name of the movie; it's too shameful). About halfway through the film, a rat jumped into my friends lap, and when he flinched, it lept into my own lap, scurrying across my arm and down the asile. We were nearly the only people in the theatre, but we both jumped out of our seats and gave a little yelp. Eventually, we decided just to stick it out through the rest of the movie with our legs curled up to our chests in our seats. I take for granted that there are rats everywhere, in every city, and it's not really a big deal. I just read yesterday that in a particularly poor area of India, they are encouraging the residents to eat the local rats to ease food shortages. I guess the rats eat their rice supply, so eating the rats themselves would be achieving two goals at once--less hunger and fewer pests. However, I cannot imagine what provoked the rat in the theatre to jump onto us; neither of us had food. I can still feel the little claws as they dug into my arm.

Just one more picture of Rai Leh beach, Krabi Province.

Every once in a while, a group of Bangkok University students will come to look at what I'm working on in my studio. They are very respectful and often they come just to watch me work, standing quietly behind me. Sometimes, though, they try to ask a few questions in english, and one phrase that they know is, "What do you think about this?" This is a standard critique class question that opens up a discussion, and these students basically mean, "Why am I making this?" In english, I would have no trouble explaining my ideas, but these kids speak less english than I speak thai, if that is possible. So, I try to really, really simplify my concepts. For example, why am I photographing empty billboards and cutting out the interior space of the billboard structure? Because "di-chan chop plaao" or "I like empty [billboards]." Now, in english I might say something about vacant billboards as a contemporary ruin and that they symbolize a struggling economy, etc. But in thai language, I can only say that I like them...and I DO like them; I am compelled by them and drawn to them as forms. I don't even know if I'm using the right word for empty--thai language has 3 or 4 words for empty, and "plaao" is the one I use to ask for plain "empty" bottled water, as in "naam plaao." You can't just say "water" because many kinds of drinks have the term "water" in the title, like orange juice ("naam som").

Nothing like a good change of pace back in Bangkok. On Saturday night, I attended a thai death metal concert at a venue called "Hollywood Awards." I think the name is referring to the Academy Awards because there were two large golden statues guarding the exterior of the building. The venue was an enormous cavern that looked something like the entrance to Universal Studios, with a fake rock fascade and neon lights. This concert was on a Saturday afternoon. I thought this was odd because I couldn't imagine a metal concert before nightfall. Evidently, the venue is quite pricy to rent, and the "Thailand Metal Festival" could only afford an afternoon slot. In the evening, Hollywood Awards becomes a discotec and coyote bar catering to a different sort of clientele. It seems that metal music and their fans are universal and uniform across continents. This thai version was identical to the shows I've been to in the US, complete with deep-voiced growls, long hair, and black clothing, except perhaps for the slightly more buddist vibe. By this, I mean that there was a good-natured politeness to the scene, and instead of singing about decapitating babies (a death metal favorite), I imagine that they were singing about somewhat less gory, if still dark, subjects.

A national park in Krabi where locals come to wash their hair on the weekends. The trails in this park were entirely paved. It seems that the Thais are not into the rustic experience.

Peter waiting out the monsoon in a road-side hut.

Our bungalow on Ao Rai Leh--$10.

After departing Krabi Province, we took a bus to Phang Nga, an even smaller town which draws tourists to Phang Nga Marine National Park. This park, comprised of various islands, is only accessable via longboat tour. This tour was somewhat of a disappointment because it is like a Disneyland ride, with stops on tiny islands where dozens of women were selling cheap souvenirs. I wouldn't say that it was depressing, exactly, or that I felt sorry for the women, but that it certainly lessened my experience of this beautiful setting. At one point in the tour, we were taken to a larger boat where tourists were being shoveled onto kayaks and taken to see submerged caves. This was an extremely efficient operation that I likened to some sort of refugee rescue. A boat full of iranian tourists outfitted in lifevests would dock at the larger boat, unload themselves, deposit all of their belongings (including shoes) onto a table, and then, in groups of two, enter a small kayak and be rowed off to a nearby cave. In a 30 minute period, I probably saw a hundred people, from 20 different countries, do this same activity. Peter and I opted not to see the caves, mostly due to my stingyness--it was an extra 200 baht or so. As we waited on the larger boat, there were two forms of sustinence available: green koolaid and the worst instant coffee I have ever had the misfortune to have tasted. The green koolaid was being consumed voraciously by the boatmen, and I imagined that it somehow helped to facilitate this surreal experience. Peter and I were part of a comparatively small tour group, all of us somewhat reluctant consumers of the theme park-like circus we were being subjected to. I would rather have never gotten off of our little longboat, but instead just enjoyed the natural scenery.

photo of James Bond Island, Phang Nga Marine National Park

After our first night in Krabi town, we rented vespas to visit some sights around Krabi. This was probably the most fun I have had on my trip. We took rural roads to remote national parks and wats (temples). The vespas were only $4.50 for the entire day, plus $3 to gas them up. This mode of transportation gave me a feeling of freedom that I had not yet experienced. Up until this point, it was necessary that I take public transportation, which limited my level of immersion in my surroundings. On vespas, we were traveling like the locals, stopping along the road to take photos and grab a bite of questionable looking street food. When we were caught in a quick monsoon rain, we only had to pull into one of the yellow huts along the road and wait it out. Thais develop a lot patience with these rains; they pace the day, giving it a tempo. Nothing happens during the rain; all movement comes to a halt.

One of my favorite things about Thailand is the night food market. This particular one was in Krabi town. After dark, a couple dozen vendor carts open up, each with their own specialty: drinks, noodles, som tum, johk, stir fry, etc. This is where you can get the cheapest, best eats--I prefer these carts to any restaurant.

This was a very secluded beach on Rai Leh. It was fantastic to go here during the down season, because it was far less crowded. There was a brief morning rain, and then a full, glorious sunny day. In the late afternoon, we took a boat back to Krabi town and had a nice meal overlooking the waterfront.

These are the longtail boats that dock around Rai Leh. We encountered intermitant monsoon rains on the trip, but they never lasted long enough to ruin our plans.

Okay, now on to paradise. Peter and I took a night train out of Bangkok to Surat Thani. Neither of us slept particularly well on the train ride--we could only get seats that partially inclined, instead of a sleeper car. But it only cost about $15, so I can't complain. Surat Thani was just the first leg of our journey. From there, we were met by a dozen touts, offering us buses out of town to various locations in southern Thailand. This is a difficult situation to negotiate because it is easy to be overcharged by a tour company. These touts were the most frustrating part of traveling in Thailand because they are so aggressive, and you feel at their mercy to get you to your destination. We boarded a bus to Krabi, which took far too long and made a hundred stops along the road. By the time we reached Krabi at mid-day, we were utter zombies. The town of Krabi is nothing extraordinary, but Peter and I found it's worn storefronts to be quite charming. From here, we boarded a long-tail boat to Rai Leh (or Railey), which is a totally isolated Ao, a 45 minute ride from Krabi town. From my handy guidebook, I had read that Rai Leh was far less developed than some of the more expensive resort islands in the area, and even more beautiful. This was certainly true. We made it to Rai Leh by 5pm and found a bungalow with no air-con, a mattress on the floor, and no hot water for $10 total. By 6pm, we were on the beach, enjoying this extraordinary sunset. I went swimming, and the water was the temperature of bathwater. By this time, I was deliriously tired, and I couldn't stop giggling as I lay on my back in the water staring up at the limestone cliffs. It was the most beautiful setting I had ever been to in my life.

Of course, I had to take a photo of myself in front of the heap as well.

Well, where to begin? My friend, Peter, came into town a few days ago, and I thought it was a great excuse to go on a tropical adventure down south. But first we decided to do a little aesthetic treasure hunting through some back alleys in Bangkok. This photo was one of my best finds. Yes, that is a truck submerged in a pile of used car parts.