Sick thoughts

I have just watched the last season of Sex and the City again. Because I am sick, staying in bed all day and running out of dvds to watch. There is one thing I realized after having to put a stop to time and space and watching SATC all over again: I think I am moving to the next phase. Or more painfully so, I should be moving to the next phase and somehow I am not doing it yet...
Let me explain. Last night I couldn't sleep anymore, my fever was high but couldn't stand to be in bed anymore because my thoughts were tormenting me. I started walking around the house and doing a bit of exercising as not to focus on the fact that I am 30 (well almost), single, bored and with not even one perspective of a normal relationship ahead. There were not few the times when I wondered whether it is London (God knows I have blamed this town for so many things that were going wrong in my life many times before and the only two things London is really guilty of are the crappy weather and increasing crime) or simply my inability of being happy with my life in general, but, although I am truly grateful for so many things, I realize that at this point, if I had to exit the big scene of life, it would all have been completely in vain. I have not helped anyone, I have not proved a point, I have not left my mark.
What's it all got to do with SATC? Well nothing and everything. Firstly, because the last season is all about finding the One and having a family. Secondly, because when I was first watching the series I found it really funny and cool and laughable, but I could have never pictured myself in that situation. I was still very young and sure that my life would be different and smooth. Almost ten years later, I am becoming the characters: getting older, lonelier and not so funny anymore. Even the sex talk which I thought was a bit too much at the time, it's now part of my usual routine. I don't want to be one of these women, I think it is really sad. It's funny to watch on tv, but it's not funny to live it. And that's what keeps me awake at night: what am I doing? where am I going?...
Well, at least if I loved London as much as Carrie did New York. A city that practically has no summer and hardly any outdoor activities doesn't cut it out for me anymore. I've had enough of the binge drinking every week-end, I need some food for the soul, some quality time for a change, I'm tired of being in this race towards nothing, I want to stop and breath and enjoy.
I feel that at times London's got nothing to offer to a single gal on a saturday afternoon (though a friend argued that it's just lack of imagination). Last saturday I suggested we went to the Barbican Centre (it's suppose to be cool and hype), but I found it so boring and so not worth seeing, that we just spent time in the cafeteria talking about the same things we always do. I find museums extremely boring lately, almost everything is boring. Unless I am totally nuts, then what do I find exciting anymore? Maybe anything can be exciting when you do it with someone you love...
To conclude: I am not going anywhere and I can't possibly remember last time I was so sad about everything. I find no more joy in things and this saddens me. I also realize I am very lonely and confused and refrain myself from crying ( I am old and wise after all) but can't help to wonder: when will I move on to the next phase?...
I feel that I need my family. My mother won't come to London, I hardly spend any time with her when I go home and I probably won't consider going back home anymore... So then, what do I have to do to feel complete? I feel that it's time to stop running...

About sickness

Sickness means existing without being. Sure, people know you are there, but there is a minimal interaction, as sickness makes you weak and speaking to other people very exhausting.
You can't even read, going to the bathroom and terrible journey and all you can do is close your eyes again and let go.
You just exist hoping for the day when you will get your strenght back and be able to live again.
The worst thing about being sick is that is makes you painfully aware of how lonely you are.
Being sick reminds you of how great it is to feel the taste of food, to go about your daily routine and how moving in general is so rewarding.

Yet another crazy week-end...

Sure, we all tell ourselves that this week-end is defo a quite one and somehow, in London, "quiet week-ends" never see the light of day. It's funny, 'cause having a fun packed week-edn doesn't necessarily involve spending a lot of money. In this particular case, I found out that having mates over and drinking wine from the corner shop can be a devastatingly funny experience.
I am particularly fond these days of drinking games. Is not because you get drunk (you would get drunk anyway), but becauase it's hillarious. Truth or dare with alcohol rewards can be pretty damn fun as well. Next day hungoever and fatty foods craving is part of the ritual. Having mates over and talking for hours about nothing, that's what it makes life worth living!
Therefore, promised myself to avoid west end from now on (been to Jewel in Piccadilly Circus on Saturday and felt that this place and probably all of the west end venues miss the whole London spirit) and stick to Shoreditch and Hoxton (possibly Camden Town too) for the rest of my London life.
Is it wrong for me to have crazy week-ends? Probably if I were to do that on a long term. But since now I am single and still in my twenties (till december:) and reliving my youth, I say yet again Carpe Diem! Cheers to London week-ends!

Google yourself

Probabil ca o facem cu totii. Sincer nu mi-ar fi trecut niciodata prin cap sa fac chestia asta, dar in urma cu vreo 3-4 ani un coleg de serviciu se distra printand poze ale celor cu acelasi nume. Daca stai sa te gandesti, nu poate fi ceva cu totul intamplator, trebuie sa exista un soi de logica invizibila intre lucruri si numele lor...

Asadar, am decis sa fac un mic experiment si m-am cautat pe Google. Prima sunt eu, desigur, pe Linkedin, Facebook, Hi5, haihuiprinlume si chiar pe poezii.ro (unde apar cu o biografie autofabricata si nimic publicat :))). Alter-ego-urile mele,insa, am fost surprinsa sa constat sunt ceea ce eu nu sunt si probabil (slava domnului in unele cazuri) nu voi fi niciodata.

Deci, cine sunt celelalte cu acelasi nume si prenume:

1. Fiica primarului din Ploiesti (sau cel putin era primar in 2003), o "beizadea" dupa cum o numeste articolul cu pricina, genul de copil de bani gata, care si-a deschis o firma de design de mobila si a cheltuit foarte multi bani (publici, se pare!?) pe o nunta fastuoasa si alte extravagante. Nimic neobisnuit pentru copii de bani gata din Romania.

2. O promotera/hostess in varsta de 20 de ani, 1.65 inaltime si 43 de kg, dimensiuni 89/62/90, satena cu ochi caprui.

3. Doamna doctor endocrinolog de la Spitalul Malaxa

Asadar, incerc sa gasesc logica lucrurilor aici: prea bogata n-am fost niciodata (din fericire sosia mea din Ploiesti este), detinatoare a dimensiunilor prefecte nici atat (alter-ego-ul meu din modelling ma suplineste la acest capitol), iar stiintele exacte mi-au provocat intotdeauna fiori pe spira spinarii ( nu este insa cazul doamnei doctor). Deci: nici frumoasa, nici bogata, nici desteapta! Atunci cine sunt eu? :))) Imi place sa cred ca sunt latura artistica a acestui patrat!

Despre scris si altele

Mama m-a intrebat astazi daca mi-am inceput romanul. M-a amuzat foarte tare intrucat pana acum ma intreba daca mi-am terminat disertatia. Cred ca s-a obisnuit cu mine sa scriu tot timpul la ceva. Si probabil ca s-a obisnuit si cu faptul ca sunt si foarte lenesa (atribut pe care de cand am citit Ghidul Lenesului nu il mai consider negativ, ci apanajul celor care gandesc - tot o forma de autoincurajare, desigur). Presupun ca ma consolez cu faptul ca si Caragiale a fost un scriitor foarte lenes, dar nu mai putin genial. Nici nu ma mir ca a preferat sa scrie schite si in cel mai bun caz nuvele.

Ma gandesc la scriitorii gen Sadoveanu care au publicat zeci de romane. Si Eco e un scriitor foarte prolific, Dostoiesvki nu se multumea niciodata cu putin, Tolstoi nici atat. Presupun ca asemenea "super-productii" necesita o forma mentala deosebita, in genul sportivilor de performanta, al celor care alearga la maraton an de an. Eu ma vad mai degraba ca pe fotbalistul care are un sezon sau doua de glorie, insa ramane in constiinta colectiva prin faptul ca a avut un acel "je ne sais quoi", sau cel putin asa imi place sa cred. Pana una alta, trasandu-mi propriul caracter "autoricesc" poate reusesc sa imi pun la punct abilitatile de a trasa alte caractere.

I-am invidiat intotdeuna pe actori. Cred ca sunt genul de om care nu ajunge niciodata prea departe, din pricina prea multor optiuni pe care ti le ofera viata si a prea putinului timp de a le incerca pe toate. Actorii inseala cumva neputinta asta prin rolurile pe care le joaca, isi dau voie alter ego-urilor sa transpara uneori in personajele pe care le interpreteaza. Parerea mea e ca actorii sunt printre cei mai norocosi oameni: se refuleaza in public si mai sunt si felicitati pentru asta. Presupun ca regula asta e valabila si pentru scriitori. Cu atat mai mult, ma vad nevoita sa merg pe drumul acesta. Sunt o fiinta care sufera prea mult de neputinta de a fi peste tot in acelasi timp. Poate a scrie si a inventa ma va ajuta la randul meu sa refulez.

haihuiprinlume.com

Am fost publicata! Si nu de mine insami de data asta! :))

http://haihuiprinlume.com/2009/01/thailanda-pentru-incepatori/

I went to this house party on Saturday. The kind of semi-civilized party where people don't really mingle and smile politley when you pass them by. I was though talking to a guy, I believe his name was Chris, and he told me he was a pharmacist but his real passion was film-making and dreamt of making a movie in Hitchcok style. I felt encouraged to tell him that I work in marketing, but my real career is writing. To my surprise, he took it seriously and introduced me to a girl as being a writer and she didn't act surprised.
I suppose that it takes a bit to get used to who you are. I had never dared before to even talk about the fact that I enjoy writing and I strongly feel that as soon as you start talking about it, you set some kind of energies in motion and things start happening. I am receiving now encouragments from friends after admitting that this is what I want to do and to my surprise, my mother said she was really happy with my decision and regreted not having encouraged me before in pursuing a literary career.

de ce...

As vrea sa am un carnet in sertarele creierului in care sa-mi notez ideile care rasar mereu parca in aceleasi circumstante: cand calatoresc 45 de minute catre birou si niciodata cand ma aflu cu laptopul in fata si imi doresc sa scriu. Creierul meu imi joaca feste. Poate ar trebui sa ma plimb de dimineata pana seara cu metroul, cu laptopul in brate si sa scriu, oare asta m-ar ajuta?

Oare m-ar ajuta daca m-as intoarce in Le Havre, in aceeasi camera obscura de hotel in care am stat timp de doua luni cand imi jucam viata pe o singura carte. Oare mirosul marii, vantul salin sau o calatorie cu feribotul m-ar zgudui din tatani si ar da drumul lucrurilor pe care le tin in mine de atatia ani.

Ma indoiesc. Am asemenea revelatii zilnic.

M-am asezat in pat cu laptopul in brate (ca orice lenes veritabil) si am deschis un document Word. Am inceput sa scriu. Bazaconii la inceput, tot ce-mi trecea prin minte. Stiam ca vreau sa scriu ceva anume, dar nu gaseam registrul, impulsul, inspiratia. Ma mai apucasem cu ceva vreme in urma de proiectul asta si dupa luni de zile chinuite am reusit sa screm ceva in engleza care, in afara de faptul ca relata oarecum fidel intamplarile, nu transmitea nici un fel de emotie. Nu asta vroiam. Vroiam sa transmit totul, vulcanul de durere care mocnea in mine cand m-am hotarat de merg pe drumul exilului si, care, dupa atatia ani, doarme ca si cum n-ar fi existat.

M-am intrebat eu insami adesea de ce. Ce m-a facut sa plec, ce m-a facut sa vin... Sa fie radacinile nomade pe care mi le banuiesc, vreo dorinta inexplicabila de a vantura lumea, vreo mostenire genetica de la tata care nu si-a gasit niciodata locul si nu m-ar mira daca si-ar fi parasit chiar si mormantul de dragul de a-si continua peregrinarile, comunismul care, desi nu l-am trait pe pielea mea decat pana la varsta de 6 ani cand oricum eram prea mica sa-mi pese de contorsionarile politice, a lasat urme adanci in constiinta generala si implicit a mea, sau pur si simplu intamplarea. Hazardul si poate toate la un loc. Stiu ca am simtit dintotdeauna ca o sa plec departe. De parca mi-as fi purtat destinul in codul genetic, am avut mereu constiinta faptului ca voi parasi tara. Poate din cauza asta nu-mi gaseam locul si rezida in mine un fel de neliniste care nu-mi dadea pace. Initial am pus-o pe seama faptului ca lucurile nu se miscau destul de repede in Romania. Si poate ca asa si era, fiindca in mod ciudat timpul se curbeaza in functie de spatiu. In Romania imi pare ca timpul sta in loc. Ca taximetristii plictisiti sau guralivi, gata sa te jecmaneasca oricand, sa se planga de saracie si de starea drumurilor sau se injure cu ceilalti participant la trafic, imi dau impresia unor arhetipuri desprinse parca dintr-o lume care nu se schimba niciodata. Acelasi vant bate printre crengile copacilor fie ei verzi sau desfrunziti si asta imi da o senzatie de liniste totala de parca as fi moarta si inca mai vreau sa traiesc.

Sa fiu de parte de tara de atatia ani, imi da o perspectiva revelatorie si parca ma plaseaza cand in timp, cand in afara timpului. Pe vremea cand rezidam inca in sfera timpului care nu duce nicaieri, am simtit ca locul meu e in alta parte si poate constiinta asta a fost atat de puternic inscrisa in fibrele sufeltului meu, incat am mers inainte cu inima deschisa si cu impresia ca imi urmez pur si simplu un destin prestabilit.

Mi-am spus adesea ca e din pricina faptului ca a fi femeie in Romania post-comunista iti oferea doar doua posibile perspective si eu nu eram dispusa sa accept nici una dintre ele: ori erai una dintre figurile de ceara vesnic machiate si cu parul perfect coafat indiferent de momentul zilei sau al noptii si care isi disputau farmecele pentru un barbat cu bani (indiferent de aspect) care sa le asigure traiul zilnic, sau una dintre milioanele de femei frustrate care nu-si gaseau implinirea in viata nici in cariera, nici in dragoste si, in general, nu-si permiteau sa-si cumpere nici macar o pereche de pantofi pe sezon. Eu nu puteam fi nici una dintre ele si-atunci mi-am zis ca poate asta a fost motivul principal care m-a determinat sa aleg calea strainatatii. In ultima vreme, de cate ori m-am gandit la subiectul de ce am venit in UK am inceput sa imi dau seama ca a fost un complex de motive care m-au alimentat cu puterea de a trece in mod periculos granita si de a petrece trei ani in ilegalitate intr-o tara complet necunoscuta si pana de curand rece.

Dexter

My new favourite show is Dexter! Been watching all the three series so far and can't wait for the fourth.
I used to be totally in love with Prison Break and even though at the fourth series still recognize the ups and downs and the adrenaline, it's all becoming way too corny. I miss the first series, when everything was still more or less real and simple. Second series was still good and followed naturally the escape from Fox River. The third series I thought it would be bad, but being in a prison in Panama reminded me of the first series, so it wasn't all that bad. Fourth though it's bringing too much personal history and you start forgetting what was it all about from the beginning.

However, I sincerely hope Dexter won't go down that lane...

Dexter is a serial killer. He has been raised by his foster father, an ex-cop, to deal with his problem by killing only killers and not before he has proven they were guilty. He works as a forensics specialist for the Miami Police and so is his foster sister, Debra. He has a girlfriend and is now engaged to be married and soon to be a father. What's great about Dexter is that he is leading a totally normal life and after three series he is starting to feel like a normal guy. Only that he kills people :) He's killed his demented brother, known by the police as the Ice Truck Killer, after he kidnapped Debra and wanted to kill her together with Dexter, and his best friend, the local Assistant DA Miguel Prado, the only guy who understood him and wanted to help him to kill people, only that he was willing to kill innocent people and that didn't match Dexter's code, and got rid of the crazy English woman that was totally in love with him and wanted to kill him and his girlfriend's children to prove a point.
I know it all sounds crazy and out of this world but that is what's great about this show. Dexter makes everything seem so daily routine and there are a few well constructed chracaters. Debra, my favourite, is one of them. She's tall and skinny, pretty, has a big mouth, is very honest and true to her principles and a damn good cop! Detective Angel Batista is lovely and down to Earth and precint liuetenant Maria LaGuerta is a strong willed woman that actually has a heart.
All and all, one show not to be missed. There's a lot of action and not a single boring moment. At the end, you'll love Dexter and you'll want him to be happy. He is such a nice serial killer! :)

Thinking about the sun and the full moon

Trying to make my life more enjoyable in January, today I joined the gym.
I was looking at some friends' videos from Thailand on Facebook and became very nostalgic.
I saw The Beach again the other day and everything seemed so incredibly familiar. I could totally understand the extatic look on their faces when they first saw the beach, that is exactly how you feel: extatic.
I have a feeling I didn't take full advantage of the few days I spent in Thailand as if something more important was waiting for me back home. I should have savoured every second of it knowing that my time there was very short. Nothing important was waiting for me at home. All the so called plans I had didn't happen and I learned another lesson on how to enjoy the present and never rely on anything that seems certain.
I decided to save money and travel more and further away.
I decided to finally take writing seriously.
I decided to give chance a go.
I hope to return to sandy beaches, palm trees, sun and full moon.

Dissertation... for the last time

I certainly underestimated the proportions of the dissertation. I thought it would be quite an easy job as it was suppose to be around 40 pages. In reality though it took a long time and it was created with a lot of frustration. At the end I don't even feel proud of myself... Just drained and happy to be over with.
Though probably the worst part was the logistics of it. I aimed to hand it in today as it was the day before last and didn't want to really leave it until the very last moment... However, it turned out that I tried to bind the first two copied by myself and didn't do such a good job and ruined the second copies by accidentally printing it with another font and messing up the layout. I only discovered that on my way to uni. I had to go back and print another two copies and bind them again (it must be for the last time as I am running out of time anyway...). I was so nervous and stressed and thought that I probably deserved it as I didn't quite give it the importance it probably deserved...
Now I was going trough it again and noticed a spelling mistake right on the cover... It figures... I can only try and fix it tomorrow, but if I can't, I'll have to hand it in like that and simply pray that no one will notice...
I only wish to pass and close this chapter in my life. I realized that I did a Masters in PR and hope never to work in PR... How funny is that? After all, Gaugain himself was a succesfull broker until he decided to go to Tahiti and paint. So, world has seen worse. Or actually better :)

January blues

To be expected... Back to freezy London, back to reality... You think: right, I am really 29 now and still confused about life... Sometimes you need someone to hold you at night and feel yeah, I'm not alone... Mostly you feel like a freak who never gets the things she wishes for...

Sometimes (let's say yesterday) you want to strangle the barmaid for keeping you waiting for a drink for more than half an hour when in reality all you want is someone to hold your hand and say to you: I'm right here by your side, baby.

Sometimes you feel really jealous of the rest of the world and can't stand to see happy people. You don't mind their being happy, you just don't want this to be thrown in your face as if they're saying with a sardonic smile: what are you going to do about it???

Other times you wonder why some people think you drink too much when everyone around you drinks as much and you do realize that you MIGHT have a problem... Again... Last time you had such a problem you fleed the country. What are you going to do now?...

There are of course the times when people tell you that you have to change when in reality this disturbs you as you swore you won't change for anyone ever again and you don't care if the way you are is right or wrong, it's just who you are at the moment and you live the essence of your misery with pleasure even if that means drinking too much or snogging random people or buying shoes. It's just a way of getting by and you know that will end one day anyway...

Sometimes you rejoice with pain. It makes you feel alive and being outrageous scares the others but it does make you feel better. Keeping quiet for so long never helped. Maybe it's time to start a bloody revolution!

And if all these had to have a name, their name would be January. January blues...

From Thailand with love

I would like to call this post Thailand for beginners. I am sure that there are many people like myself that have never travelled outside Europe before and have this unreal perception of the East.

I would like to begin by saying that I had the richest experience in terms of travelling so far. Maybe because, despite my 29 years of age, I have never been backpacking before. My unexperinced advise: rather take more money and buy stuff on the way, then carry all the things with you. You may never use some of them! My backpack was only 10 kg but after a while it felt that I was carrying an elephant! If you're a woman, never carry make-up or beauty products, you'll not use them. Thake some antiseptic cream instead: you are bound to end up with bruises and cuts, especially on the bottom of your foot. I've had one since the New Years night and it is still swallen.

Travel to Thailand:

The flight from London is exhausting. We changed flights in Bahrain so we had a chance to move a bit before taking on another 7 hours journey on the plane. If I were to go again, I would take a flight to somewhere in the Middle East (provided there is not some war going on), spend there a day of two and then continue my journey. You will feel less tired if you've had some sleep in between flights. We travelled with Gulf Air and it was ok. Can't really complain. Though in the last plane the seats were very uncomfortable. Watching "The Dutchess" on the kind of made up for it.

Bangkok

We flew into Bangkok and had almost a day in between taking another plane to Koh Samui, so we thought about visiting Bangkok. I don't know what I was expecting, but certainly not what I saw: and overpoluted city, full of motorbikes and big cars, people frying greasy food on the sidewalk (the smell became unbearable at some point), people sleeping on the pavement or on the benches.

If you have not been to Thailand before, expect to pay between 600 to 800 bhats (11 - 18 pounds) for a taxi ride into the city. Well, all the people I have spoken before to advised me to take a taxi with a meter. They all have meters but you can hardly find a driver that will want to use the meter. If you do find one, it will cost you between 200 and 300 bhats, but you are expected to pay for the highway tolls. If they don't want to use a meter, just tell them you won't pay more than 300 bhats, they will accept as they will realise you know the prices. Don't trust anybody, not even the information desk at the airport. The only people that will look after you will be the hosts at the place where you have accomodation. They treat guests like family. If they ask you personal questions, don't take it the wrong way! :)

Suvarnabhumi airport is huge and impressive. We were knackered and tried to get some sleep on a bench, but the air conditioning is too strong, my eyes were dripping. I also had a cold and was coughing hard, so decided to go out. We found a bit o green space and slept outside on some kind of pyramind. The weather was amazing, but we were so tired and so traumatized by Bangkok that I started to wonder wether coming to Thailand was a good idea after all...

Travelling inside Thailand

To get to Koh Phagnan most people take the night train from Bangkok: it's cheaper and you have sleepers, so a good chance to catch up with some sleep. By the time we decided to plan our journey to Koh Phagnan, it was already too late: all the trains were fully booked. I couldn't bring myself to spend another 12 hours on a bus, so decided to book a flight with Bangkok Airways. They were quite expensive as not many tickets were left, but it was well worth it. Bangkok Airways flies to Koh Samui (which is 30-40 mins by ferry from Koh Phagnan) and it's the most straightforward way to get to Koh Phagnan. Air Asia has low prices, but it flies to Suratthani which is on the mainland, a few hours away by ferry. If you've got time on your hands it is worth it to save some extra Bhats.
I was impressed with two things: Bangkok Airways had a customer's lounge, with free tea, coffee, juice and snacks and 15 minutes free internet connection. They are a very professional and reliable airline and flies many destinations in Asia (Laos, Myanmar, Malaysia, Indonesia, Cambodia, India etc). The second thing that impressed me is the Samui Airport. That place is absolutely amazing: it is in open air and looks like a 5 stars spa or something similar. It has shops and restaurants and an avenue and you can easily kill a few hours there.


Koh Phagnan


Finally there. Our friends waited for us at the port in Thongsala (main ferry port on the island, on the south-west) and took us by motorbikes to our bungalows, which were on the west side of the island in Suratan. The place were we stayed, Moon Beach Bungalows, was a little piece of heaven. I would go back there anytime if it wasn't so far from the buzz of the island. It is a nice spot for people looking for peace and quiet,but not so great for people looking for fun :) If I were to go back to Koh Phagnan, I'd choose to live closer to Haad Riin. It may be buzzing all the time, but once you find yourself a nice secluded bungalow, you've got nothing to worry about.

Our friends lived at the Or-Rawarn Resorts (well, we joked calling it a stable, as it wasn't as posh as our place,but the atmosfere was unbeatable) between Thongsala and Haad Rin. The owner of the "stable", Mr. T. is the nicest and funniest man I have ever seen, Mrs. T. is good fun, great cook and improvised nurse (she was picking everyone's wounds with a tooth pick and cleaning them with lime juice, a natural antiseptic, which aparently was excruciating painfull, but well worth it) and their 3 sons the cutest thai boys I've ever seen.

Full Moon Party was crazy. I hardly remember anything as I was drinking so many buckets of vodka with red bull (they don't do glasses, just buckets :)), that I actually missed midnight, got lost from everyone else (we all got lost from one another) and got myself a cut on the bottom of my foot. If I were to do it again, I'd do it differenlty, but it was good fun nevertheless. :)  
Koh Phagnan is not all about Full Moon Parties though. The island is full of surprises: there are three waterfalls and mountains and there are day trips that anyone can take and enjoy the great outdoors.

Thai food is surely fantastic, but for those who are staying longer on the island and get fed up of eating Thai food everyday or simply miss a good old English meal, there are good news: a proper English Pub can be found close to Thong Sala. Just ask any tuk-tuk driver to take you down to Mason's Arms.

I strongly recommend to anyone that goes to Thailand to try the famous Thai Massage. I've had one on my birthday (probably the best present I could have offered myself) and it was a marvelous experience. There are places that offer Thai Massage almost everywhere around the island. However, we went to a quite dodgy looking place somewhere in Thong Sala and there were only some curtains shivering in the wind that separated us from the street. I can only imagine how the effect of the massage can be enhanced by a nice scented room with relaxing music if I totally enjoyed a thai massage in a dump by the main road with hip-hop music that could be heard from a bar near by :)


All and all, the most amazing experience. I am only sorry I didn't stay longer and am now determined to come back and explore the amazing treasures of the East.

More about my Thai experience and travelling tips to come on www.haihuiprinlume.com