Sunni Dawson

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Slapping therapy?

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I’ve spent the past two weeks very very bruised and in substantial pain.
 

The story begins with a slender, black haired woman. She interrupted my typing reverie at a local cafe. We talked for over two hours. Fascinating background with loads of great travel stories. Towards the end of the conversation she told me about an ancient Chinese healing technique she has been using.

 
‘Maybe it will work on your varicose vein?’ She pointed at my leg. ‘I tried it on a friend’s vein last week and it went away!’
 
‘Well I’ve had this baby for at least 15 years now. It doesn’t hurt. It just looks ugly.’
 
‘I have some time tomorrow, maybe I can come over and we can try?’
 
‘Sure.’
 
This system is based on the meridian systems that the Chinese believe run up and down the body. Basically it is about releasing the blockages in these meridian lines. Those familiar with Acupuncture or eastern philosophy will be generally familiar with this concept.
 
It is different from Acupuncture in that instead of tiny needles, it involves hard slapping. Yes, you read that right.
 
I was slapped. Hard. And repeatedly.
 
I have only just commenced reading the ’50 Shades of Grey’ series in order to understand all the fuss and the criticism about this film and books. The way I was slapped and the subsequent bruising doesn’t seem as pleasurable as is described in the pages in this book.
 
We went to my bungalow because she was worried that the sound of her slapping in the restaurant might cause people to look at us. It turns out the sound of the slapping was the least of concerns.
 
She slapped me hard on my protruding vein. With great intensity. I found out for the first time in one and a half decades that varicose veins can be painful. Well, at least when being whacked senseless.

I winced and smiled, pretending it was okay.
 
She. Was. Hard. She repeated her assault in second intervals.
 
‘Are you okay? I’ll do it softer.’
 
Lets be clear: the technique is slapping. Slapping hard.
 
‘Yes, I’m ok, its ok.’  I thought to myself its only for a short while – I can grin and bear it. Its all for the greater outcome isn’t it?

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’
 
‘Yes, its ok.’
 
‘There should be bruising coming up by now. Why isn’t there any bruising?’ 
 
‘I’m not sure.’ It sure feels like there should be bruising!

She was brutal. She varied it up the attack between hard and slightly less hard when I started wincing. At some point I started hitting my opposite knee so I wouldn’t feel the pain in the leg she was attacking as much.
 
‘Ok, I’ll try the inside of your arm for a while.’reat.’
 
She felt like a boat paddle with her mighty force whacking the water. Faster and faster, get it out of there! This time I bruised. She seemed pleased.
 
‘If you keep slapping there for half an hour, it will go away.’
 
Let me get this rationale clear. You slap a sensitive area for 10 minutes. Bruises and blood vessels appear. The recommended action is to keep slapping, as hard as you can, until it goes away. HHhhhmmmm.
 
So I did.
 
Day 3

This is the result over the next week. I slapped it for an hour. Some changes in the skin happened, but I ended up having such an internal bruise I couldn’t use my arm for days.

Day 1
Day 2
Day 4
Day 7
She went back to torturing my leg. It was like she was trying to slap the vein into behaving. Like it needed to be punished for what its done. Punished like a child never ceasing to pull her hand out of the cookie jar. The neighbour’s cookie jar.
 
It went on for an hour. At least. 
 
I couldn’t walk afterwards. I couldn’t sleep. When I desperately needed to use the toilet, I hopped. Do you know how dangerous it is for an uncoordinated person to hop in a slippery wet Thai bathroom?
 
I couldn’t walk the next day. Luckily the wonderful Thai family I live with lugged  freshly prepared thai feasts up the hill to my bungalow. And I had this view. (not much to complain about really). 🙂
 
For 42 hours I was horizontal. Literally.
 
After the 43rd hour I was able to walk around my cabin with a hobble.
I did some minor stretching involving sticking my legs up the wall and hammock laying. The hammock laying helped a lot. Mainly because my legs were in the air.
 
I started to walk down to the restaurant and back on the third day. The fourth day I walked down to the 7/11 and back. The worst was just standing in the one spot. If I sat down I had to put my leg up.
 
It took me seven days to do my usual 30 minute or so walk. The subsequent days I walked, continued stretching. The pain really didn’t stop for almost two weeks. And, I know you’ll be surprised by this, the varicose vein is still protruding strongly from my leg.
 
Lessons learnt:
  • Slapping a very sensitive area in the body very hard for one hour, hurts.
  • If you continue to slap a sensitive area and bruises and blood vessels appear, stop.
  • Test something first before jumping in.

 

Any other lessons you think I should have learnt from this, please let me know!

Midweek memento – The mysterious note!

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I flung open my wooden bungalow doors with haste, as I usually do each morning to check the sparkling sea below. What mood is it in? What life will it bring to this day?

As I drifted in my hazy state towards my hammock, I noticed a note, placed under a small rock near my shoes at the top of the wooden staircase.
 
Excitedly, I picked it up. The first thing I noticed was the big, pink lips pressed on the side of the note. My heart sank. Obviously, the note was not for me.
 
I immediately smelt the note. I was overwhelmed by the flowery stench of plastic perfume. Mmmmmmm. Quadruple confirmation. It was not for me.
 
The blue pen cautiously spelt out its curvaceous squiggles. It looked so pretty.
 
But why was it here? I’ve only had the occasional friend visit me here. My bungalow is tucked into the mountainous rocks, the furthermost away from the main path. Its hard to find in the dark. It wasn’t there when I got in at 11pm the night before.
 
I was determined to unravel the mystery.
 
The first step was very obviously, breakfast. I asked the Thai family in my restaurant if they could read the note. 
 
‘It not make sense. It only half words. Maybe words from Laos? But for sure, not for you! It on your balcony?’
I nodded, loving her confirmation that it was most definitely not for me.
 

I saw my friends at a local restaurant later that day. My Thai friend said:

 
‘It is Thai for sure, but I don’t understand what the person trying to say. It does not make sense.
 
It say I think:
 
How much for the price. Wrong. To have hurt, one day, one night. Give up already, you understand.’
Fantastic. The mystery has started to unravel. My summary: someone has had a 24 hour stand. The person (I am presuming its a woman) is heartbroken from the fleeting affair. They are pleading to the other person for understanding. They are hoping a pressed kiss and cheap perfume will persuade their fanciful love.
Certainly not me.
 
But the question remains. Why is it on my balcony?
 
The truth is, no one knows which balcony is mine. I have not had any one night stands or 24 hour stands. I thought about it being put mistakenly on the wrong bungalow. But there were couples around me – all who are just passing through. And no-one who has been single has stayed in the bungalow next to mine (the most likely mistaken bungalow) for the whole time I’ve been here.
 
Another English friend suggested it could be the staff. This is very very unlikely as the two possible staff from my resort (a very loose word here in Thailand) and the bungalow next to mine are from Laos and I am pretty sure they can’t read or write. And I certainly don’t feel they harbour any feelings for me. 
 
My bungalow is just in such an out-of-the-way place.
 
Help me unravel the mystery! Any suggestions on likely stories or scenarios???

Cha cha or Leo Leo?

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I recently visited the main town on Koh Phangan, Thongsala, (which is made up of essentially two main streets and alleyways branching off like a advantageous roots, in a haphazard, inconsistent fashion). All sorts of practical local supplies like hardware are mixed in with tattoo parlours, guest houses and food fares.

Thongsala, Koh Phangan


I like it’s simplicity. It’s not too big or too sprawling. It’s easy to get around and find things. It is the embodiment of a little Thai island village, just enough of everything, just enough dirt, just enough dried fish smells, just enough tantalising treats.

 
 
When I decided to head back to my beach, I went to find a motorbike taxi. I know they always drive like they are taking a labouring woman to hospital, so I had to set my terms upfront. 
 
‘Taxi?’ His pleasant, slightly slurred face looked hopeful.
 
‘Yes, Haad Yao.’
 
He was turning to get on his bike. ‘How much’ I pressed.
 
‘200’
 
‘150’
 
‘Ok.’
 
‘Cha Cha.’
 
He nods. 
 
His friend beside the bike looks at me and says, ‘No, Leo Leo’ motioning with his arms like he’s trying to get a donkey to trot.
 
I look at him in fear, ‘No, CHA CHA…’
 
Encouraged, with a half smirk, he fastens, ‘No, LEO LEO!’
 
 
I put my hand on my driver before he takes off, ‘CHA CHA’. 
 
‘Ok, Ok..’
 
We set off, leaving a laughing group of men behind.


Thongsala, Koh Phangan
This is an example of the current workings of my mind in relation to my writing.  Do I go slowly, cha cha (I love that cha cha in Thai means ‘slow’ when to most English speakers it means sexy, active dancing!). Or do I go Leo Leo (one of the Thai beers here is called ‘Leo’, or in English ‘Fast’).
 
My writing has been paceful most days. And I write a decent amount. But I still don’t think its enough. I pressure myself with thoughts of ‘Leo, Leo’ but this doesn’t help the writing process. Some days I get lost in social media (I am thoroughly enjoying my ability (ie the time) to read all the articles I want to read and have endless conversations with my friends here, and new friends I meet along the way. I’ve helped out friends with various things (on and off the island) which has added up to weeks and weeks of time.
 
I let myself be distracted. I mostly try and be solitary. (Sunni? Solitary? Yes, I know… but its true). I try to hide myself away in corners of coffee shops with earphones in, a concentrated look on my face, barely looking up. But it still doesn’t work. People just want to talk to me. 
 
My internal pressure is far greater than anything I know.
 
And then there’s that time thing. Surprisingly, time flies in a tropical island paradise. Sounds tough, I know. But I am genuinely surprised at how quickly 4 months has gone (yes its really true – 4 months!). Life has gotten busier on the island. Its now high season and I was reflecting with my friends recently on how we miss the ‘good old days’ when the island was sparse and I would go to my favourite cafe and there would be no one in it.
 
I certainly have not been working at the speed I work at when I am working for employers in Australia (I give at least 126.7% out of 100% in all the work I undertake). I have allowed myself the space to go ‘Cha Cha’ for a while. I vary up my routine most days. I’ve let the creativity flow in different ways.
 
But then the guilt creeps in. I think about my good friends at home who are exceptionally busy with their families, parenting, working and everything else in their lives. I feel guilty that I have this time and space. 

And then I feel guilty watching just how hard people work here. My local friends. Working 6 or 7 days a week, over 16 hours a day, never getting a break. And I have the privilege to do what I’m doing. And god damn it! You should be doing more! Mush! Mush!! If they can work those crazy hours – so should you!!! And then the nicer part of me comes out… But you have done those crazy hours before. Contribute in the way you contribute here. And you are preparing for the next wave of intense work that will inevitably happen.

So I still get torn. The angel and the devil are still around. 
I’ve realised that I am a creature of routine. I need it. So I’m instituting a more regimented regime for the next month or so. I’ve redrafted my project plan for all the various writing and other tasks I am doing. I’ve started a new blog I’m happy with. I’m reading more (even if its 50 Shades of Grey – it’s still interesting to read a different writing style, yes?). And I feel focused. Lets see how it unfolds! Wish me luck!

Thongsala, Koh Phangan (pretty island village!)

Midweek memento – Group Sex Workshops

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“I’m going to be a bit late tonight, I’m going to a workshop this afternoon.”

“Oh, ok…”

I quickly understood the vibe. ‘Its on speed reading. I’m really interesting in reading more books, quickly!’
 
Their smiles offered a sense of relief. ‘No problems, whenever you can get here is fine!’

 

I understood their trepidation. There are many and varied workshops offered here in Koh Phangan. Tantra, Astrological Tantra, Spiritual healing of all descriptions, Goddess awakenings, you name it, and someone’s got a workshop on it. Usually framed in a ‘spiritual’ manner, like ‘awaken yourself with…’, ‘become one with the universe with…’, ‘enlighten yourself in these ….conscious ways…’ And then it gets better.
 
I met a guy recently at a local cafe. His opening for the conversation was complimenting me on my hair.
 
‘It’s so golden, such a lovely colour.’
 
‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’
 
‘What cakes do you recommend here?’
 
‘Everything, but the banana cake is amazing.’
 
We got talking about ourselves and what we are doing here. When he found out I was a writer he said, ‘I’ll have to watch what I say then.’ 
 
I laughed, ‘Being a writer can be quite good payback for sure, but, of course all my characters are completely fictional!’
 
We kept talking. A little while later he said he initially came to the island to run a few workshops, but then decided against it because ‘it’s not the right time’. 
 
‘Oh cool, what sort of workshops were you going to run.’
 
‘Group sex.’
 
I desperately tried not to look shocked, and/or burst out laughing.
‘Oh, ok’. I tried frantically to find some sort of question in which to respond, to act like, I’m so cool, I’m down with that… 
 
‘But it wasn’t the right time’.
‘But it wasn’t the right time.’ Repeating his words I nodded, trying to maintain a sense of calm.
 
‘Yes, a lot of people would like have group sex, but they don’t know how. I just want to give them the tools so they can arrange it. But I’ve realised it’s probably best coming from a woman, not a man. I need to find a woman who has had a couple of good group sex experiences.’

‘Ok.’
 
Fortuitously I had a massage appointment to go to, so I had a reason to excuse myself pretty soon afterwards. I almost ran out of the cafe, but not before he said,
‘Maybe I’ll see you here again.’
 
 

 

My friends were understandably a little cautious about asking me what workshop I was attending. Koh Phangan brings out some pretty interesting characters, people and workshops!

Snail repellent and white vaginas…

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I thought I’d write a blog post on some of the quirky products available in Thailand. I’m most happy to send you some of them if you’re interested. Read below. 
Mosquito and SNAIL repellent!

 

A personal favourite is this insect repellent I found here. I was most relieved that at last someone is making snail repellent. Those pesky snails, chasing me with their lightening speed and depositing their gooey juices all over me!

Now anyone who knows me, knows that I have a hippy soul. My soul lives in a world of sunshine, flowers, peace, where everyone loves and accepts each other unconditionally…. its just like the song ‘Imagine’: half of me is permanently living in this song, the other half of me living in this body then tries to embody these traits in human form. So I try to be as conscious as I can, and this includes buying herbal toothpaste. Random, I know. 

It does have a kinda ‘bitey’ aftertaste…

The herbal toothpaste I am used to in Australia has generally been white-ish and fresh tasting. I smack my lips together and let the sweet smell of mint or other nice refreshing scent slides gently down my throat.

The herbal toothpaste here is, lets just say, different. It literally looks like its been eaten by a caterpillar, thrown up, subsequently found and snuffled up by a dog eventually coming out its other end. And it tastes like mud. Yummy!
Then there are all sorts of ‘home remedies’ like this one. It says:

‘Liquid fragrant herbs
Treatmementof
Malanq hites.Pain
Put a fresh wound
Maintain fire.’
 
Malanq hites. A critical condition indeed. That condition that sucks the life out of you. The only solution: herbal fire. I was told a different story however, its for treatment of mosquito bites. You choose.
The pharmacies are filled with interesting concoctions, unfortunately all written in Thai. If I could understand Thai, I’m sure I’d have a whole book to fill with ‘Sunni’s experiments with strange Thai drugs’.
Bulgarian Yogurt Whitening Lotion, no less!

Whitening lotion. One fascinating cultural trait. White skin is one of the most prized possessions in SE Asia, and certainly in Thailand. Walk into any 7/11 store and nearly all the products will contain bleaches and a myriad of other chemicals. Such as the following beauties…

The myriad of whitening products in my 7/11
Whitening sunscreen lotion! Really?



Even sunscreen is ‘whitening’ here!

But let me ask a question: why on earth would anyone want white skin? Its pasty, extremely boring, devoid of colour, more prone to skin cancer. I mean, seriously?
But of course there are reasons for the hail of whiteness. Firstly whiteness is considered more attractive,  khaaw suay ‘white-pretty‘ and is associated with success, opportunity and status. This has ties with not wanting to be seen as a labourer. Labourers work in the fields and subsequently have darker skin. Educated or professional people are whiter as they do not have as much contact with that firey ball in the sky.

Another reason could be that many conquerors of Thailand, Moguls from Central Asia and colonisers from Europe where whiter and set the standards for attractiveness. The continual imagery of advertising and TV stars being whiter adds to these images and perceptions. Currently, Japanese or Korean ‘pretty-ness‘ (big eyes, white skin) is the Thai beauty mission.

I’ve also found out that there are products to make your vaginas white. White vaginas. I need to repeat that. White vaginas. Add to this is the obvious health benefits of blindness and skin cancer in the case of prolonged use of these bleaching products. Some women suffer from pigment disorders after using whitening products, and have even lost their employment because of it.

So there you have it. A wrap on some of the quirky products found here. If you find any others, please let me know!
White and baby faced is obviously the way to go! 🙁

 

Embracing the third gender…

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Image credit: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7529227.stm
A striking difference between Thailand and… well, lets just say most other countries around the world, is the visibility and apparent acceptance of gender diversity here (this post is focused on trans women or MTF).
The most widely popular Thai name for trans women is Katheoys, which more accurately means a type of man that displays or dresses in feminine ways. The more accurate and less used terms are sao praphet song (trans women) or phet thi sam (the third gender).
I am regularly served by young trans women in the local 7/11 and other 7/11s I venture into. They sport long black hair, fixed neatly back into ponytails and carefully made faces. They use the feminine endings on Thai words with undisguised broken voices.
Image Credit: Flickr (89372776@N00)
I see other transgendered woman working in places I have been. Swivelling past in fancy black pants, slim shiny belt and a pressed short sleeved crimson shirt. A beautiful red comb in her hair and a face like a traditional Thai painting.
Such visibility here. As I waited for a boat yesterday I observed an immaculate Thai trans woman. She was dressed in a well above knee high black mini skirt, with a shimmering turquoise shirt subtly peeking out from a prime cut black jacket. Her hair was combed precisely and wound back under a black sequined clip. Her face broad, with precisely plucked eyebrows, burgundy lips made bigger from a carefully crafted lip technique. What was most outstanding was her extremely polished glowing calves. Their perfect muscular presence shone with polished pride, the certain envy of any well air-brushed model.
I wanted to reach out and touch these sparkling gems. But if I did I’m sure I tarnish their poised perfection, much like the sweaty, dirty hand prints of a teenager on recently polished silverware.
She announced the boarding procedure first in carefully spoken accented English, and then in Thai, she used the male version endings on words. She used ‘krap’ instead of ‘ka’. I found that interesting. Like emphasising ‘I am ok being a woman, but I don’t deny my other or previous gender’ (as the case may be for her).
This overt openness with gendered language brought comfort to my heart. ‘I am who I am. And I accept that. You can accept it too.’
Thailand has made world headlines on a number of occasions for its apparent acceptance of gender diversity in sport (trans players in volleyball, Thai boxing, also portrayed in films such as the ‘Iron Ladies’ and ‘Beautiful boxer’) and education with some schools in Thailand introducing a ‘third gender’ toilet. Image having a third gender toilet in all schools across the world, what sort of change in perceptions and society that would make!
Thailand performs more sexual reassignment surgeries than any other country. It is considered a very tolerant place for western diverse gender tourists.
Yet, transgendered people are not yet recognised in Thai law. There are proposed changes to the Thai constitution to include a ‘third gender’, which is likely to be approved in April 2015.
On the surface, there appears to be acceptance of gender diversity, especially in tourist areas and large cities. Then again, the first schools to introduce a ‘third gender’ toilet, were in small rural communities. Some groups say that Thai acceptance of the third gender goes hand in hand with Theravada Buddhism. 95% of Thais identify as Buddhist. Tolerance is a prized Buddhist philosophy, along with the idea of karma, where people are seen to be reincarnated in this life as a Kathoey or trans for things they did in their previous life (thereby attracting pity rather than congratulatory acceptance).
Image credit: http://media.photobucket.com
Underneath the famous Thai smiles, there are still hurdles of family expectations. This is perhaps one explanation of Thai laws not yet fully embracing the ‘third gender’ and allowing equal rights under Thai law.
What I do find interesting in the Thai language is that the term for boyfriend or girlfriend is the same word, แฟน (pronounced ‘Faann’). Imagine a world where it didn’t matter what gender your lover or partner was, just that you had a lover and were loved.
Whilst there are some contradictions in Thai culture, and the law is yet to include the third gender, I enjoy seeing people embracing their lives as they are, how they want to express themselves and be. And that the community, however deep and differing that may be, accepts it. I want to see more people being who they are, not hiding who they are. And all people embracing and celebrating all people as they are, as they become and who they will be.
(I feel a Cindy Lauper song coming on)…