Don’t know what they’re doing but they laugh a lot – 28th February-5th March 2018

March 6, 2018August 24, 2020 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Another busy day taking care of business on our house building site, which often just involves sitting around and answering questions about what should go where, and we’re off in the evening for a dinner/birthday party near Mae Chan. The dinner is for one of Amy’s friends who is visiting from Bangkok, for her father’s birthday. I drive Amy and 3 other girl friends, up the highway, down some small farmland back roads passing new paddy fields and ending up on a small farm estate in this beautiful valley wilderness.

As I’m already used to with Amy and her friends getting together it is a non-stop barrage of noise which I’m mostly glad I can’t comprehend. Soon the food and beer are flowing and I’m quickly drunk enough to try a few deep-fried crickets. They seem pretty tasteless though I’m reassured they are a perfect accompaniment to beer but I prefer the mix of chilli with beer, to be honest. Maybe the crickets are better when eaten fresh and still crunchy. Will try again one day. Maybe.

I cheer everyone along including the birthday dad and his brother who are particularly amazed that I am 50 years old, thinking that I was only 30. They decide to welcome me as their son-in-law and later, drunker, as their daughter.

We hit it off so well, and I’m made to feel so welcome here that my new dad plays some tunes on a traditional instrument for me, after which he takes me out the back of the shed and invites me to pee on his fields anytime I need – a special privilege it seems.

Both the dad and brother run farmland in an organic way by using nature to counteract pests to allow proper growth. I’m invited to come along for lessons any time in the future and I think it’s something I’ll end up doing if I have time. We communicate in mixed sentences of Thai and English and dad grows more fond of me with each drink. He’s starting to flag it a bit though and I offer to take him up the hill to his home. But when we get there his son is drinking whisky with his friends and I’m invited to sit for a shot. I eventually get the old man to his room where he lights up a cigarette and continues to pour out his affection. Eventually, I make it back to the food and drink but by now I’m so far out of it that I blank out anything else the evening brings, except for one pee stop on the way home. Amy drove home of course, not me!

The following day is a complete write off for me though we go back to the house to answer any more questions and I sleep quietly on a mat on the tiled floor in the corner of what will be our living room.

My days now will be repetitious with going to Home Mart type stores and picking accessories as they are required, hoping that our selections make sense when jammed all together in our house. Does a red front door go better than blue? Who knows? Over the next month, we will find out.

One afternoon we have to get back to take Amy’s grandmum (on her dad’s side) to get an injection at the clinic. She has an open appointment and dad says to go at 5pm. Now, this is a fine example of how it’s possible that some people’s brains are wired differently, as discussed in a previous post. Dad doesn’t consider to confirm this appointment and as he and mum are out for the evening it is up to Amy and me to take grandmum. When we get there the clinic is, of course, closed. Amy complains quietly to me that this always happens with her dad and she gets frustrated cos everyone gets angry with her when she makes a fuss about it. But it’s a huge waste of time for us and no apology is offered.

Worse still is that when we wake up in the morning both mum and dad are out for the day and although it isn’t stated it is expected that we will take grandmum when the clinic opens again today, despite all the things that we have to do too. But we do so and for this, we are not even rewarded with a word of thanks.

Amy complains that dad never offers to clean up dishes or more female related housework and anytime she says anything her grandmum will scold her. It is obvious that grandmum has spoiled and coddled him all through his life, much as she does with Amy’s brother too. It reminds me of the time Amy complained to her boss about the behaviour of the barista where she worked in Sydney and the boss said to ignore it as he’s ‘just a boy’. What fun it must be to go through life just as a boy.

In other news, I’m adjusting myself to the ways of the slipper. Thai houses are shoes off but slippers are offered as you enter, many shops do this too. I’ve soon learned that tie up shoes are time wasting and having to learn the little kick to shove off my slip-ons and step delicately into the slipper shuffle. I now understand the shuffle of my friends in Malaysia. The shuffle is required as you don’t get the slipper or thong on in the first go but work it up your toes as you shuffle along. You may then continue shuffling so that your shoes don’t suddenly come flying off. I haven’t quite mastered it yet but I’m getting there. I’ve even started thinking about where the pile of shoes and slippers are going to end up in our house when it’s ready.

And in a final piece of funny events, I had a laugh when shopping in the supermarket yesterday. I’m not usually one to laugh at miswritten statements on t-shirts in Asia as I believe it shows an ignorance on both sides of the coin. But this one made me chuckle. I’m guessing this aunty was in her 50s and her shirt read ‘I WANT TO SEE YOU FUCKING DIE!’ We’d probably be arrested for wearing this shirt in Australia or the UK and I do hope that she actually did understand the words on her shirt cos that would make her truly punk rock.

Here’s the sunset from our bedroom window. Enjoy your day, wherever you are.

It was Four Tops all night with encores from stage right – 24th-27th February 2018

March 5, 2018December 18, 2022 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

It’s becoming obvious that I’m not going to be able to keep up with regularly posting updates here as time seems to slip on by. I’ll do my best to keep note of things and get to them when I can but not sure how I’m going to be able to keep them concurrent with events from 1994, of which there is still a mass of writing for that year in my diary.

If I just limit myself to a paragraph per note I’ve made this post is going to get quite long. I’ll try and be more concise.

So, our final morning in Dorset sees me going through some boxes of things my mother kept over the years. I’m interested in the photos more than documents such as birth and death certificates and old school reports. In particular are a couple of school photos I’m guessing from when I was 12 and 13. You can just see my hair starting to get more punked up, for which I got so much shit at school at the time, from teachers and older kids who nicknamed me Sid. I never got on with that nickname as I was more into Johnny Rotten but it was difficult to tell kids that as they were kicking and punching me for their random pleasure. The thing with these two photos is you can still see the light in my eyes, just starting to dull in the later one. These years were the start of what later would be diagnosed as mild depression. The transition from middle to high school was particularly traumatic as I had a whole new bunch of older kids to pick on me though I soon found some allies.

Before we know it we’re up the motorway again, back to other old haunts in Southampton. We’re staying with Amy’s cousin Ting, who has been in England so long she has the thickest English accent I’ve heard for a while – so much so that I barely recognise her on the phone sometimes.

Amy heads off with Ting to do some shopping as they are cooking together at a friend’s house that evening, whilst I head over to see my old pal, Chrissy.

Chrissy was the wife of Steve, whom, if you’ve been following so far, was the inspiration for writing the 1994 diary after his untimely death the previous year. I caught up with her briefly in Sydney a few years before as she was attending someone’s wedding there, just a suburb or two away from where I was living at the time. It was good to catch up again and talk shit like we did in the ‘good old’ days.

The afternoon is made more pleasant by the arrival of Steve and Chrissy’s daughter Rebecca, who was less than a year old the last time I saw her. I am shocked at the resemblance to Steve and can’t stop looking at her face. It’s like he’s right there again.

I also make quick friends with their dog who despite being somewhat shy took to me for some good pats, strokes and ear rubbing. But soon enough it’s time to leave.

I head back to drop the car at Ting’s and get out the maps app so as to walk to the pub where I will meet more old timers and down a couple of pints. The air is very cold but the exercise warms me and I look into people’s houses as I pass and wonder what their lives are holding for them today.

I stop off for some hot chips as I’ve not eaten much today and it would be preferable to line my stomach with something traditionally British and stodgy to soak up any alcohol intake.

There are some bands playing tonight, including some old friends but I’m not so interested in the music as I am in talking. Rich introduces me to his partner Geraldine and later Rob and his partner Emily turn up. A couple of other hopeful attendees find themselves busy elsewhere so they’ll just have to come and visit me in Thailand one day.

A jovial atmosphere and pleasant conversations quickly end this all to brief meet up but it’s much along the lines of that last night in Sydney, with certain friends you can just pick up on conversations with even years of interruption between.

The following morning we’re off to London. Amy wants to go shopping. I’m not particularly thrilled at that idea but I’ve set myself a task to track down a book I’m looking for. We’re also booked for a dinner in the evening at the Shard near London Bridge.

I’ve always enjoyed London as a place to visit but never, when living in England, felt the urge to live there. So, even rush hour tube trips have some sense of adventure to them. I’m constantly reminded of the Clash as we pass by certain stations and wonder at the motivations they had as they went from small house suburban London city to mega hotel New York city. Man, they wrote some tunes.

One thing I immediately notice is how much more multicultural London is than Sydney. Although not so used to hearing the English accent anymore it seems that in many places we visit and pass by that people aren’t speaking English at all. It’s a little unsettling and really cool at the same time.

This point is highlighted even more as we head for a pub lunch and I’m annoyed at myself for not understanding the bartender’s accent. I forget to apologise for my difficulty as her’s is a Lubjiana accent, so I ask her more about her country. She’s busy though but I think she wasn’t offended at my ignorance in the end.

We pop into Waterstone’s bookshop and finally I find the book I’m looking for, ‘Churchill’s Secret War’ and take this final chance to pick a couple of books about The Fall. I wasn’t going to buy these originally as I figured I could find them digitally but they were there, I was shopping, this was possibly the last day I’ll ever be in England and so they ended up in my luggage. Amy felt the same and bought a couple of massive cooking books which definitely means a rejig of our bags later tonight.

We’re starting to flag now and consider changing our plans for dinner tonight. It’s another beautiful sunny cold day, particularly bitter when the wind rushes through small side streets. We decide to head to the Shard early and see if we can just go up and take some pictures. We end up on the 34th floor at the small bar there and decide to splash out on a bottle of champagne and 6 oysters. These kinds of expenses usually bother me but I decided to relax again and enjoy this indulgence despite the fact the cost could probably build us a swimming pool in Thailand.

We reflect on our lives as we stare out across this old city and talk about how people think we are lucky to be able to do this and that. But we have worked hard, had a plan and always pointed our way towards it. I guess those comments are somewhat driven by the social media construct where friends generally only see you having fun, what appears to be, all the time. We know we have made the right choices along the way, the choices that have got us where we are now.

The following morning we are greeted with snow. What a nice surprise. The Mexicans we meet at the breakfast table in our guest house are equally thrilled and we watch them as they step out to take funny photos. We do the same a little later as we stuff our suddenly heavier re-jigged bags into the car and head to the drop off point. Unfortunately, our phone direction finder leads round in frustrating circles and we decided just to figure it out following the signposts instead.

Amy decides on one last shop at the airport, so I get in the mood and pick up another book about the rules of being English, something I mentioned to Amy when she smiled happily to the guy in the take away the previous night. I told her it was not usual for someone to smile at other people in England and the guy probably thought she fancied him. This is overplaying it a bit and is also the exact thing that attracted me to Amy in the first place. That was in Sydney though, where smiling is an everyday occurrence. I’m sure the English can often go a whole week without a smile.

The English confound me more on the plane to Bangkok. It’s another A380 but this time jammed with ‘bigger’ English people looking for thrills in the ‘land of smiles’. Despite leaving at midday, it’s an overnight flight as we fight against earth’s rotation and the English are up and at the crew galley all night long refilling on free booze. I did this once when the experience of flying was still new to me. Free booze must not be missed but I found it impossible to get drunk and to drink enough to be able to sleep. I would just end up with a frustrating headache at the end of the flight, so I never drink on planes now.

And then occurs the most English thing I can imagine. There are two meatheads sitting directly in front of Amy and I and they were constantly bouncing in their chairs at every toss, turn and minor readjustment. I glance the Sun in the lap of the one who is coughing consistently and roll my eyes. Midway through the flight, Amy needs to get out to go to the toilet so I get up and step into the aisle. Being half awake I was a little clumsy getting up and knocked the chair in front of me where the now angry boofhead looks around and proclaims, ‘Was that on purpose? I think it was, wasn’t it?’

I’m perplexed. My only reply is ‘Sorry?’ and I look behind me to consider if he’s actually talking to someone else because his words just don’t make any sense to me. Amy is bewildered too but trots off to the toilet as I stand and wait. The two meatheads decide that they’ll settle themselves down with more whiskey and the event passes. I still can’t imagine what leads to the guy’s question, if I knocked his chair on purpose, what was the reason? We’d had no previous interaction at all. It just seemed a typically antagonistic English response, a show of never back down, one-upmanship.

Those two guys ended up rushing off the plane to get to their destination of my more booze, sun and you can guess what else.

Our day has only taken 12 hours and we transfer at Bangkok for our flight home, finally my last flight for this period. There has been so much travel and rush over this month that it has been almost impossible to sit and relax and reflect. Probably for the best. Even mum’s funeral seems like something surreal and dreamlike that perhaps didn’t even happen.

This final flight is curiously filled with French and various Middle Easterners and I watch on as people struggle to find their seats. It’s a little strange really – it’s not that hard, is it? The numbers ascend and the letters go across. It seems to take an age for some people though. I wonder if their brains are wired differently, something that will soon be confirmed as I adjust to life in Thailand.

Back in Chiang Rai, we rush to sleep, eat, advise our builders, eat and sleep again. Another day disappeared into the mosquito-ridden night.

One fine day, conversation will cease – 23rd- February 2018

March 4, 2018May 27, 2024 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Well, today is the day to bid farewell to my mother officially. I’m filled with some nerves, some trepidation and some relief. Sharon and Ken are busy running around preparing for guests invited after the funeral and their son, my second cousin, Mungo turns up with warm hugs and regards, along with his eldest daughter Ella, who shares his dad’s bright blue eyes. Despite the nature of the day, there’s no sombreness really, just a realisation that this day needs to be done and in short time life continues for all of us left.

I spend some time trying on Sharon and Ken’s hat collection whilst Amy irons me a shirt.

We head to the funeral service, just in a small room, a converted barn called The Barn. Possibly an Australian was asked what to call it. The site is a new cemetery where ashes and bodies can be buried with trees and a small memorial plaque.

The officials are all very nice and understand the nature of my mum’s requirements for no religious texts, prayers and hymns. More people turn up that I expected, most that I don’t recognise but people that Sharon has managed to find in mum’s contacts book. I don’t get much chance to talk with anyone to find out more but later reflect on the words passed on from these people about their appreciation for my mum.

It’s weird to see the coffin and imagine your mother is inside. But I know she isn’t there, that is just the body she was using. It did bring home a finality though and I felt sad.

The service starts with a song I picked which I knew mum would’ve liked. It’s called Day Is Done by Peter, Paul and Mary. I also chose the closing music which is Acker Bilk’s Petite Fleur. After a quick introduction, it’s quickly on to me. I have a prepared speech and stiltedly read aloud as I attempt to input some emotion into it and occasionally make some eye contact with the onlookers. I’ve never been one for standing up and talking in front of people; unusual for someone who used to stand in front of a 100 people and attempt to sing back in younger days.

My speech went like this:

I just want to share a small story that reflects what my mum meant to me and how she subtly influenced me to be who I am today.

I’m guessing I was about 21 or thereabouts at the time and we were living in Colehill. Most dinner times I would come home after work and mum would have baked something for us to eat, me in my room, her in the living room. This particular evening she prepared a big fry up. Eggs, bread, mushrooms, tomato and baked beans. I was grumpy and ravenous. As the egg was the final component and it hit the plate I thanked her (I hope) and headed off to my room.

Some how I caught myself on the corner of the door and the whole plate plummeted to floor, depositing everything onto our worn carpet. I was devastated. I don’t remember what else was going on in my life at that moment but this was the final straw, the end! I think I burst into tears!

My mum quickly came along and told me to get something to clean up the mess. She looked at me and said ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make you another one’. Somehow this new plate of food tasted bittersweet. I felt guilty but happy.

This short anecdote demonstrated mum’s attitude and unknowingly influenced me as I have since developed a strong streak of patience, a lack of drama and a get on with it approach to any difficulties in life.

This was just the way my mum was. She just got on with things without making a fuss and bother. She’d be furious with us all now making all this palaver over her demise but a funeral is never for the deceased but for those who are left. So let’s remember her like this, and as we go on our own ways, let’s just get on with it.

My cousin Ken reads through a chronology of mum’s life and another song is played. Mungo reads a short poem that also pretty much reflects my mum’s wishes (except the second line!).

‘By Herself and Her Friends’ by Joyce Grenfell

If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone,
Nor when I’m gone speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves that I have known.
Weep if you must, Parting is hell,
But Life goes on, So sing as well.

Finally, the director reads out a poem that my Aunt Lorna has requested be read. Lorna is the last survivor sibling sister and unfortunately isn’t well enough to travel to attend today.

‘Weep not for me’ by Constance Jenkins

Weep not for me though I am gone;
into that gentle night.
Grieve if you will but not for long,
upon my soul’s sweet flight.

I am at peace,
my soul’s at rest.
There is no need for tears.
For with your love I was blessed;
for all those many years.

There is no pain,
I suffer not,
The fear now all is gone.
Put now these things out of your thoughts.
In your memory I live on.

Remember not my fight for breath;
remember not the strife.
Please do not dwell upon my death,
but celebrate my life.

As this poem is read out I start to feel a little emotional and so look outside through the window whilst taking in the words. In the building opposite a dog has decided to push through the curtains and sit in the window, taking in the sun. Life goes on.

The rest of the afternoon is spent chatting with mum’s friends and associates, some who I’ve met previously, others I’ve often heard her talking about over the years. I think the service was appropriately short and without fuss and was a nice way to think about my mum’s life.

Later, we’re joined by Mungo’s two youngest kids who tear around the kitchen distracting us with laughter and screaming fun.

And later still, a final dinner with my cousins where we eat well and drink copiously, even managing to pry the last drops out of Ken’s bottle of Dalwhinnie. Discussion ranges from my mum’s life to deeper, more philosophical things as Mungo stirs the pot with his Dad, who is up for the debate. Amy is wilting and I soon offer we retire to bed and the day ends with an upbeat feeling and one that I know my mum would have enjoyed partaking in.

So no, I don’t want to go to Cuba – 20th-22nd February 2018

March 3, 2018July 17, 2024 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

We’re taking an overnight flight to the UK and of course, I slept a lot already. It’s only in more recent years that I’ve been able to even sleep a little bit on planes. Except for that one time out of Guangzhou, I was lucky enough to start talking to a girl as we were waiting for departure. Just by chance, she knew the staff working the counter and wrangled an upgrade to business class for herself. She was kind enough to come back down to cattle and tell me to follow her back to business class, where there was a spare seat. Best sleep on a plane ever, and probably the last time I’ll enjoy that too.

Our plane in and out of London is the new A380 and it is huge. Even for the likes of us paupers, it feels like there is a little more room to breathe at least. I barely manage to sleep though.

We arrive in London around 6am and the weather has me instantly cold and chilled (not in the relaxed sense at all). We pick up a hire car, which is amazing but I keep forgetting that it is manual and stall it at every roundabout. Then we take the wrong lane and exit off the motorway and the sky is grey and the rain is drizzling just that annoying amount to make the wipers screech. I am thoroughly depressed already.

Somehow the shitty English coffee manages to take off the edge at least for a while. Just remember not to watch what the barista actually does and just go by taste. I think I had one half-decent coffee this trip – which is one more than last time I visited the UK.

As we arrive in Brighton the sun very occasionally decides to show itself. We’re staying at Amy’s university friend’s house and she just happens to live herself on Brighton Marina. Sometimes I feel especially lucky to find myself in such beautiful places just through the people that I know.

It’s a great little house, and when I say little, I always forget just how tiny and compact English houses are. And doors – always doors. Gotta keep that heat in.

Amy has decided that we must eat Indian food on this trip and, as they are everywhere, it’s only a short walk to our lunch. It’s cold and even the slightest breeze is enough to make us shudder. We have prepared appropriate coats but there’s still the other bits turning blue. Luckily the sun decides to stay for a long while and the sky turns blue. Wait, are we still in England, in February?

Amy’s friend, Bookie, speaks with the typical American accent of her tutors from years ago. Something that I (or Australia) have managed to change with Amy over the years. She doesn’t sound English and not really Aussie but at least it’s not American.

Bookie is married to an airline pilot and he is away 20 days a month and he’s away now, arriving back in the following couple of days for his birthday. They have a five-year-old son called Kyle and when he comes home from school I’m tasked with keeping him entertained whilst food is prepared. We have fun playing Star Wars action figures and making up stories.

Later, Amy and I enjoy the comforts of a nice soft bed and perfect pillows. Back at Amy’s parent’s house, the bed we are sleeping on may as well be a block of concrete – it’s good for learning to sleep on a tiled floor though. The only downside of the night is I wake up having a coughing fit and end up in the living room for a spell. Amy is starting to catch it too and her voice is starting to crack.

We wake up again to brilliant sunshine and coffee’d up (instant) we hit the road, passing Arundel castle and some other Olde Worlde buildings. The history and mystery of England is a little bit magical for me if only the temperature was more appealing.

Heading along the coast we get back into very familiar territory for me, with roads I travelled repeatedly in other glory days. We soon arrive at my cousin’s house and are treated to a warm welcome of food and central heating, along with discussions about details for my mother’s funeral and some other minor details that need to be sorted whilst I’m here.

My cousin, Sharon and her husband Ken have been doing all the hard graft for my mother and for me, of course, over the last 18 months or so. I’m so lucky that she has been here and willing to assist with everything.

It still doesn’t seem real that my mother isn’t here to talk to, to show pictures and to keep updated on the minutiae of everyday life. I feel sad about that but not overly emotional. I keep wondering if I’m going to sit down one day and have a big cry. Maybe. I’ve upped my dose of antidepressants recently, in preparation for my big life move and it’s likely they are helping keep things smooth for me emotionally.

Another coughing fit just after going to bed sees me again relocating to the living room until I’m on the verge of sleep when I return to bed and later Amy wakes me with coughing of her own.

The weather is excellent again and even though it’s cold there’s little wind to bring in the chill. We drive back to my hometown and go to the bank where my mum and I have a joint account and sort out access for Sharon to deal with expenses etc. Amy and I spend a little more time walking around, returning again for pizza at Piccolo Mondo, once my favourite pizza ever, not so much these days though, it’s still good though.

We take ourselves on a country drive as I search out Bulbarrow Hill. I love this place. It sparks that mystical quality of olden days more than some of the other places scattered around the south, even more than Stonehenge. It’s a fabulous view and the sun’s rays break through the scattering of clouds.

I have time to scoff down some more home cooked food, that Sharon says isn’t to her usual quality but it tastes great to me. Bring on the cheese, potato, garlic and butter anytime!

I’m off for a quick catch-up with old school friends Rupert and Murray, though we barely have time with our busy schedules. A quick couple of pints and it’s time to head off on our merry ways, and I am feeling quite tipsy. That is until I open the pub door and the cold wind blast instantly sobers me. This forces me to reminisce quite clearly the many many nights spent walking home from the pub, or the local football club, or the school field where we huddled around a couple of cans of beer and maybe a fire. Those days were either hell fun or hell shit depending on my mood and what was going on around me. I miss the good bits. A lot.

Edit: Could not stop humming this tune during these few days – https://youtu.be/xk2QbCDRP0U

In the garden, the roses have no thorns – 16th-19th February 2018

February 19, 2018March 5, 2024 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Not yet hungover, still wobbly and happily void of any stresses involved with departing my home country of the last 24 years, Thai Airways does its usual job of safe and stylish delivery. In between meals and bouts of sleep, I observe the passenger in front of me constantly annoying the hostess and interrupting her as she talks and serves others. Finally, she firmly tells him he has to wait his turn.

I tried to watch the new Blade Runner movie but this surely wasn’t the right environment. Much more satisfied with the mindless comedy of Thor: Ragnarok. Pretty sure I was still drunk at the time of arrival in Bangkok where the queues for transfer were horribly long but still, I didn’t care as other foreigners stood by and shook their heads. “Welcome to my country” as Amy sarcastically often says.

The short flight to Chiang Rai is not of any particular note except for the Sumo who steadily waddles on the plane and listens to something on his headphones. I’d like to think it’s the latest grindcore release or something equally zen.

Just my luck, I get stopped at customs, where no one ever gets stopped and they pick out the new iPhone I bought for Amy as a surprise, at duty-free in Sydney. They want me to pay tax on it. Apparently, you can bring stuff in without tax if the value is under 20,000 baht and this is over. I plead with them that I have just relocated from Australia and this is how I am welcomed to Thailand. I tell them my wife will be furious if she knows I had to pay tax on the gift. I look at them puppy-eyed. They discount the tax rate for me but it’s then I realise I only have 500 baht on me anyway. I offer it to them but they seem unimpressed. They look over my shoulder and ask ‘Is that your wife?’ Amy is waiting just beyond the doors with a curious look on her face as the officers her invite her inside.

Some discussions later we end up paying the tax and told that it was just unlucky they decided to check my bag. It’s also apparent that if the phone had been unpacked and in my pocket, no one would have noticed either.

Welcome to Thailand, indeed.

Next day the hangover finally kicks in, added to by the approach of a cold, no doubt initiated by the last night of drinking and talking which caused me to almost lose my voice. Now the coughing starts.

Both our cats are confused to see me again but we soon make up when I start feeding them. Whoever feeds them is their favourite, always. We are all camped in a bedroom in Amy’s parent’s house. A place that is her childhood home and we’ve often stayed here on our previous travels but is not quite comfortable for us as we don’t know where their things are, and all our things are stored in the multitude of boxes piled high in the living room.

We head off to visit our house, the first time I have seen it in person. Now I can appreciate the dimensions of each space, yet can’t imagine it as a home just yet. It won’t be long now and we can start filling it with the things that make it homely.

I start my life as a gardener today, breaking up big clumps of clay and watering all the various plants and trees still left growing which includes durian, ten lime trees, jackfruit (already with one big fruit almost ready), papayas, Thai chillies and multiple frangipanis. We’ve also ordered 5 Jacaranda trees that we hope will grow and blossom at the front of our land and attract visitors should we run some business from there. A small reminder of Australia too.

We pick up some drinks for the workers at the local store where I’m introduced to the shopkeeper. May as well start the village gossip at the source. I hope we’ll become good friends in the future.

The workers live in temporary tin sheds they have built alongside our house and we are doing little extra things for them to keep them content and happy to work for us. They are not quite used to some of the designs and plans that we have so we need to explain things often and carefully for them. They are very hardworking men and women, mostly from Burma, though legally working I’m told. One wife is fairly heavily pregnant and presumably (hopefully) not doing any heavy work but maybe preparing meals for everyone. Despite their poor accommodation they still have a TV and satellite dish rigged up to keep up with their favourite shows or maybe the EPL.

Despite our tiredness and my now constant coughing, dad (father-in-law) decides we must all go out to the new fish restaurant to welcome me here. I try to partake accordingly but between us, we only manage three bottles of beer. The food isn’t as good as some other places we have tried in the past and the service was still going through a teething period. There’s a big lake out front with attractive table settings but in the evening it’s a constant battle with mosquitos, which would spoil things somewhat. I still have to invest in repellents and appropriate clothing, luckily those things are very cheap here.

Both our nights are fitfully slept as I cough myself and Amy awake but we stirred at 6am to get to our house again before it gets too hot. I set about the watering, almost completely covered head to toe from the oncoming sun. Next, I need to invest in some wellington boots as my runners get covered in muddy clay. It takes about an hour and a half to water everything and I start dreaming of automatic water systems. One day, one day.

The temperature is good in the morning and stays reasonable for the rest of the day. I, however, have to retire with medicine for a nice siesta.

The siesta soon became a full nights sleep, again, broken often by coughing. But we’re up and at them at 6am again stopping off at a little shop that has been running for 45 years with just a slim menu involving tea, coffee, toast and eggs. It’s brilliant and cheap but doesn’t do enough for me as we get to our house and Amy does some supervising and I fall back asleep on a deck chair on the terrace. I have nice dreams and awake delirious before driving back home and sleeping even more, until it is time for us get prepared for our next little journey to the UK, to farewell my mother and catch up with family and friends.

History is what’s happening – 12th-15th February 2018

February 15, 2018March 5, 2024 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

A fond farewell to Hayden in Brisbane as we lugged luggage again, two coffees down before boarding the plane. It was nice to fly in over Sydney (yet again) and if Brisbane was 10 times busier than Adelaide then Sydney repeated the feat over Brisbane especially as I struggled with my bags at two stations that didn’t have lifts. My dodgy elbows are extremely upset with me but what can a poor boy do.

Tonight I would stay with my friend Billie, her husband Jade and their daughter, Nexis, in the upmarket suburb of Killara on the North Shore of Sydney. They live in a house far too big for them, boxes still not unpacked from moving in 9 months ago. It did mean they could offer a spare room for this temporarily homeless wanderer for which I was grateful.

I met Billie about 10 or 11 years ago when I was part of a dragon boat racing team, representing Australia (somehow!), in a dirty bay on Hong Kong Island. Billie’s family head the institute of dragon boat racing in HK and Billie and her sister, Mandy, were the compere’s for the races. Both girls were and are extremely attractive and, Billie especially, bright and outgoing positive personalities.

Needless to say, they attracted the attention of the white boys at the races and at the drunken awards dinner on our last night there. Myself and another racer went out later for supper with Billie and we decided to stay in touch through email just in case our paths crossed again, under the pretence of sharing our photos of the week’s events with one another.

A few years later our paths did cross again as Billie became an air hostess with Cathay Pacific airlines. This, of course, took her all over the world, and eventually to Sydney. She got in touch and we met up one night for dinner. At the end of that night, she quietly invited me up to her room for coffee. I didn’t want to presume anything and I have no idea of her intention at the time but something in me decided not to take her up on the offer.

I’ve not really been one for one-night stands and I definitely didn’t want to do that with someone I felt that if I had then that might just be all our relationship might have been. I liked Billie, a lot, not because she was pretty but because we got on so well and had a lot of fun together. A friendship was more fulfilling than the possibility of brief exciting encounter and that’s the way I wanted to keep it.

We met a couple more times when she flew to Sydney. The final time with another of her crew, Kit, also a beautifully attractive girl. By then I had already met Amy and it was with some pride that we all headed to Amy’s favourite nightclub after dinner, I got to walk up to the dance floor with three amazingly attractive women.

Of course, I didn’t want to embarrass myself by actually dancing so I left them to it. Immediately they were swamped with guys wanting to dance with them, to which Billie and Amy crossed their arms in big X’s indicating for the guys to go away. After 15 minutes of this though they became exasperated and we decided to leave. On our way out a guy near the stairs grabbed Kit’s arm and yanked her towards him at which point I had to intervene and got to tell him that these three girls were all with me. It made me chuckle to bruise the poor guy’s ego (and radically inflate my own, briefly) as we left the club.

A few more years of staying in touch and Billie told she had met someone from Australia, Adelaide, in fact. I knew she met a million guys around the world and that she could pick anyone she wanted but this one she met in a bar in Hong Kong. She said he was not handsome, a bit fat even but had a generous and family-oriented personality. This was what she was looking for in her ideal partner more than a troublesome good looker.

Then a couple of years later they decided to relocate from Hong Kong to Sydney and ended up living a couple of blocks away from Amy and myself in Chatswood. We got to hang out a bit more but also were leading busy lives. A case of when living near the beach you never go for a swim.

Billie and Jade now had a baby on their hands and Billie could become the dragon mum she always dreamed of. I caught up with her sister Mandy during this time too and she soon was married with a couple of kids of her own.

Anyways, Billie rushed to pick up from the station in her new 4WD, on the phone to her friend, as we rushed to pick up Nexis from school, now in Year One. Nexis and I always get on like a house on fire, like I do with most kids, and we were soon making fun of her mum and I was getting her into trouble so we were both getting told off.

Nexis and I played some more, with their water hose – more trouble – and with their French Bulldog Dunstan, short name Dunny. Billie cooked up a nice veggie dinner for us all, Nexis went to bed and Jade overruled Billie to watch a movie instead of Billie’s favourite Aussie trash TV, Married at First Sight, thank heavens!

Next morning, Billie dropped me in Chatswood, with all my bags and we wished each other well, hoping they can come and visit Amy and me in Thailand sometime in the future. I spent the morning running around getting coffees and trying to arrange to meet people but everyone was busy. Never mind – I know you’ll always be there, somewhere.

A train to the city and more coffee as I met up with one of Amy’s best friends Jess as I was staying at her place right in the centre of the city. We went out for a big seafood dinner to celebrate another friend’s, Grace, birthday, joined by Muoy and Hakan. Amy had already prepped me to pay for the meal tonight as her gift to everyone and for Grace’s celebration. Grace kindly reciprocated by offering to take me to the airport a couple of days later.

Next day was a big run around and I’d been hitting my ten thousand steps easily for a few days now. In the morning I met Jess at the cafe where she works and got my first free coffee. We were heading to Chippendale to meet one of my friends who had opened her own cafe recently. Jess is thinking to do the same in Adelaide sometime in the future so Amy thought it would be a good idea to introduce them and for Jess to get some tips.

On the way there I ducked into another small cafe another Chatswood friend was working at and was offered another free coffee, gladly accepted as always.

In Chippendale, we found my friend’s cafe, the Bean Brewers. Jenny runs it with her husband and has managed to build up a good little business. They spent a long time looking for this place and are working hard, seven days a week, to make it a success. I met Jenny when she was just 16, ten years before, when she was working at my favourite cafe in Chatswood. She had moved to Australia from Vietnam to study and wanted to stay. Similar to my own story with Amy, a customer had taken a fancy to her and eventually they got married.

Once again, we all wished each other well and went on our way. Jess went back home whilst I went to my next appointment, this time at UTS, to see Bronwyn, Hayden’s mum, my ex-wife, the partner of all the 1994 diary entries you can find here. Twenty four years is a long time and things change and things stay the same. Bronwyn told me of some photos she had found of our time back in the UK and when I saw them later it was odd to look at the person in the photo that was me. I didn’t recognise them as me, though I knew it was obviously me.

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After lunch and during another coffee stop my 3pm appointment cancelled which I was actually a little grateful for as the temperature was soaring and I was starting to get sweaty. I headed back to Jess’ for a quick shower and recovery before heading out again to meet Jochen, at a pub just down the street.

Jochen arrived with his friend, from a meeting that they had just attended. Jochen works for the Goethe Institute and moved to Sydney with his wife, Sabina and kids, both of whom are a similar age to Hayden. They actually moved back and forth a couple of times before finally settling on Australia as the place to stay.

I first met Jochen, about 15 years ago I’m guessing, through a band he was playing in with a mutual friend. Although being from different countries within Europe, which becomes a little competitive, here we were suddenly comrades on foreign turf. I’m over dramatising but in some ways bonds are made through mutual conditions such as these.

The other thing that drew us together though was our musical interests and our roles within our own DIY music scenes. The connection was instant, an unspoken understanding of the way things had been, the way we were doing things now and the way we wanted to continue doing those things. I value Jochen’s friendship above most others – one of those friendships where you may not see each other for a couple of years and you can sit down and continue the conversation as if only a day had passed.

And of course, this was pretty much the situation we were in, having not been in much contact for the previous six months since leaving Sydney. I expected to be out for a couple of hours, perhaps drop by another friend working in a shop that night too.

Kicked off with interesting conversations with Jochen’s friend, a filmmaker, again about mutual musical interests, particularly the Dutch band The Ex (crazy thoughts arising about how to tour them through South East Asia and Australia), moving on to discussions about working with Japanese musicians for live film scores.

After he left we decided on another beer, and another, conversation free flowing, about our lives, our kids, our futures, about continuing to work together in one way or another and just about generally staying connected. Something that is so much easier to do now than it was in 1994.

All these thoughts could lead to longer stories that I will have to leave for now. But that night, my last in Sydney, the beers continued along with the stories and topics and we eventually stumbled out around 1.30am, I think, and on our respective ways.

In a blink, I was asleep and awake again, still drunk and almost voiceless as Grace whisked me to the airport and I jumped on the plane, last time for a while in Australia, hoping for more sleep, which didn’t come. But I was too drunk to care, too drunk to think. The perfect exit.

Brisbane is burning – 11th February 2018

February 12, 2018February 12, 2018 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

The plan was for the beach and then to go see some bands in the evening. My friends from New Zealand, Die! Die! Die! just coincidentally happened to be playing in Brisbane this weekend, the end of an Australian tour, ironically, along with an Adelaide band I had heard good things about, called Horror, My Friend.

A late start put us behind unfortunately but around midday, we headed off in the direction of the Sunshine Coast. Hayden regaled me with stories of different little events in his life as we passed through each suburb where they occurred. Old girlfriends, new girlfriends, good friends, loser friends.

We made the beach an hour or so later. It was a hot day but the beach wasn’t so packed, with some good learners surf and long sandbanks. We floated, dived, talked, waded and wandered. Something about the beach totally refreshes the body and, to some extent, the mind. Salty sea air maybe, or perhaps just the general feeling of shared happiness.

And dogs. I really enjoyed watching various dogs jumping around in the shallows, chasing tennis balls and old broken basketballs, anything that could be thrown and retrieved. I told Hayden about getting a dog sometime in Thailand, thinking it will be a nice companion and a distraction from potential loneliness. A partner that will listen without question or comment. Well, perhaps still questions, such as where’s my food and why won’t mum let me indoors. We’ll see.

Energised from the ocean we headed straight to the pool back at the apartment block and the couple of people who were hanging out soon left us to our own silly play and games, though there’s not a lot you can do just with your body and a stack of water.

A quick shower and a quick snooze, as thunder rolled over, I woke up again totally buggered. I wanted to go out to the show but also knew that we would still have a second chance the following afternoon. So, dodgy halloumi yiros with dodgy chilli sauces followed by a couple of beers back at the apartment and some entertainment via the satellite with some fishing show called Wicked Tuna. We were instantly rooting for the big cuddly fat bloke with the dreadlocks and slamming the guy who was abusing the rules of etiquette. And then bed. Again.

Unfortunately, the beers gave me indigestion and I had to sit up during the middle of the night to let out some gas, which disturbed my dreams.

Never mind, we still made it up at around 10am and headed out to play mini-golf, or putt-putt as it’s affectionately known in Australia. We were behind some fat kids who were fucking around and their fat sweaty dad keeping their scores, over which the constantly argued as we sat waiting in the sun until the finally fucked off to the next hole, so this repeated 18 times and without realising it, my exposed flesh was now lobster red. Oh well.

I quickly slaked my thirst with a couple of Hoegaarden’s and we headed to Tym’s Guitars where both aforementioned bands were playing a 2pm free show in the store.

It was good to catch up with Andrew, Mikey and Lachlan from Die! Die! Die! as I’ve seen them playing around for more than ten years now and had a hand in helping get them to China for shows back when I was more involved in those things. Today though, did inspire me to offer assistance to get them to South East Asia perhaps next year. Also inspired by my old friends ‘ni-hao!’ from Tokyo currently touring in Malaysia, hanging out with my friends there. It would be awesome to help out with a tour over there, perhaps do some tour managing if and when free time arises.

Both Horror, My Friend and Die!x3 were excellent, great ear ringing guitar indie rock that I’ve not seen live for a long time now. This old man nodded his head, occasionally in time with the beat.

As this was my last night in Brisbane, we did the pool thing again, till everyone left again, and watched as a crazy thunderstorm approached. By the time we’d showered the lightning was fizzing and the darkness approached in a wall of cloud, streaking the sky.

Hayden and I talked about his mum, my mum, our families, his girlfriends and all sorts of other things and I feel good that he will find his feet sometime in the future. As much as I want him to get there sooner, it doesn’t really matter so much, so long as he gets there, learning along the way.

Faster than snakes with a ball and a chain – 9th February 2018

February 9, 2018February 9, 2018 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

See you later Adelaide, I couldn’t wait to leave you.

I got a taxi to the airport, three hours before take off. I just couldn’t sit around at the house, waiting. It was time to start the journey even if that meant sitting and reading my book at the airport for a couple of hours.

I will miss you slightly, in that comfort of a regimen of work and sleep, preparing for these next precipitous steps, uncomfortable dread gnawing at me.

A zip and snooze and I’m landing in Brisbane as the sun sets back nearer Adelaide. My son, Hayden, is waiting for me with a big hug and we get lost in the maze of car parks and lifts, assisting others who are similarly lost.

Brisbane is the opposite of Adelaide in road layout, it’s a mess, made messier by the winding river running through it. It also makes it more interesting immediately.

We arrive at our apartment, ablute, and then search for food. Opting for takeaway burgers and beer, we sit and talk for an hour or so before hitting the sack in my first decent bed for many months. Blissful rest with crazy dreams.

It’s interesting to watch Hayden finding his way in the world. I am now at the point where I just have no idea what ‘teh kids’ (as I call them, on purpose typo) are into these days. Popular culture was never my thing and though Hayden has his own interests outside popular culture at least he still understands all those current references.

I’m really only interested in old bookshops and reading about history, trying to get a better understanding how we are where we are. No longer being in the now, doing the do.

But I know I must do the do again when reaching Thailand and I was visualising a day in my life there. Riding a motorcycle to school to teach English, I want to feel that thrill on the new, fill myself with the wonder of ‘how did my life end up here – that’s just amazing!’ But then also wanting it to feel familiar again, something normal, but not get to the point of a rat race boredom. A balance is something I would like to strike and something I feel like I’ve never been able to achieve. Like sitting still, very fast. Maybe it’s just the way I’m wired.

Today we went book shopping and found a great store called Archives. If I had the time I would’ve spent so long looking through here but opted instead just to ask at the counter for a couple of books I remembered being interested in finding. Sometimes I think it’s just a little game of something to do in a place, with the possibility of a little reward at the end. Like setting a little goal for the day. The assistant took me straight to two of the books I asked about and I was amazed that she knew them immediately and where they were located. If I ran a bookshop that’s how I would want to be, knowing exactly what you have and where it is.

The only problem with these two books is that they are both massive and heavy. Hayden and I struck a deal that he will bring them to me later in the year or wherever it is that he gets chance to visit us in Thailand. I have enough to read already so no hurry really.

I used to hate reading, sometimes would force myself to read books just for the hell of it. Somewhere along the way I’ve just found myself enjoying it more. I read, and have always read, lots of comics, usually alternative and mature comics rather than superhero type stuff, though I am now going through old 60s and 70s Marvel. I’m not sure what the appeal to me is really? Maybe getting lost in those world with some hints of visuals perhaps, as I generally only read non-fiction books otherwise. I actually would like to read more fiction too and get lost in those worlds but somehow real life books are just what is interesting to me these days.

This afternoon I will attempt to write a small piece for my mothers funeral. I have an idea for it, just a small event which sums up her attitude to life and dealing with problems.

Having Hayden around is distracting me from thinking about my mum not being there to talk to. I really want to show her today’s pictures of our house, but showed them to him instead.

Hayden is a typical early 20s guy I guess, with what people my age might consider strange ideas, thoughts or views on events in the world. He does, however, have his head screwed on and shows a lot of empathy a lot of the time. When I think back to my life at his age I was the same, finding my way, honing my opinions and beliefs. I discussed this with him today and said I thought that every parent wants their children to gain the wisdom they themselves now have, faster than they did. To get smarter, quicker. However, being a parent, being older, you also know that that is not how it works. You can nudge in certain directions but one can only grow under their own directives. When Hayden is ready, he will be. He’s happy enough and figuring it out.

There’s straw for the donkeys – 7th February 2018

February 7, 2018February 7, 2023 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Happily, I was successfully accepted for the CELTA course in Chiang Mai, though I need to brush up on my grammar skills considerably! The interviewer made me feel very comfortable despite my lack of knowledge and I actually felt that, yes, I could do this!

Also got word of a position available at the university close to our house (Mae Fah Luang) which I will apply for, though the timing may not be right as applications close at the end of March and I won’t have a certificate (assuming I pass) until the end of May. Will apply anyway, it is Amy’s old University colleague who manages the English department there so that may be a benefit at least. He said if it doesn’t work out he will direct students to me for private tuition in the meantime.

Last night my housemates took me out for a farewell dinner. Bram drove the Volvo and Katrina and I made fun of him because he couldn’t hear his brakes screeching because he has lost hearing in that range. I thought he was just pulling our leg at first but seems he was telling the truth. I hope my hearing holds out a while longer – there’s still too much music in the world to enjoy.

We went to a dinky Chinese diner in Chinatown and ordered a big stack of food, including my favourite fish in boiling chilli oil with Sichuan pepper. Not quite enough chilli and pepper for my taste but still a fantastic eat and half the price of some other places.

I noticed the staff putting flowers in the bags for Uber Eats deliveries so at the end of the meal I asked one of the staff if we could have one and I gave it to Katrina who was suitably embarrassed and happy to receive. Bram laughed too and said I was showing him up. I like this couple and hope they can achieve their dreams for the future.

For Bram that involves a 3-month motorcycle trip through India (and possibly Thailand, Myanmar, Malaysia and Singapore – though it’s looking like he may not be able to afford that now). For Katrina, it means getting her permanent residency in Australia and then saving to build a couple of container style apartments on her grandmother’s land near Shengzhou (with Bram’s help). Apparently famous for it bamboo forests, as seen in popular Chinese dramatic cinema in the west, pictures look especially magical when it snows in winter.

We both invited each other to visit what will be our new homes.

After a few days lull, our house is going gangbusters today with the perimeter fence going in, the electricity being hooked up, ceilings being primed and pond being finished off concreted. Things seem to be coming together very well.

Today, though, I woke up in a slight funk. Possibly from the two beers I had with dinner last night, the first since the end of September last year. Last night’s chilli has also assisted in processing the last few days codeine constipation. Codeine is nice – I can see why it becomes addictive.

After today updates will become a little less often though I’ll still try for daily. I’ve lined up a few entries from 1994 (until the end of March) and want to try and get ahead with those if I can – they are a pain in the ass to re-write and it was a perfect situation to be able to do that at my job.

It’s stinking hot here in Adelaide and super dry today. Tomorrow I fly to Brisbane to meet with my son. His mum has booked us an apartment in Fortitude Valley for the weekend for which we are both very thankful. It’s been about six months since I’ve seen Hayden and probably will be another six before I see him again, assuming he’ll have time to come visit me in Thailand.

I’ll go and finish off that big book that will be too heavy to take with me. Already threw out jeans and dinner jacket and some other stuff I wanted to take. So maybe, just maybe, I can squeeze in a box of Australian wine to bring to Amy.

Watch out for the spiders of compulsion – 6th February 2018

February 6, 2018February 6, 2018 ~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

As it was in 1994, my year of change is marked by death. Then, it was my best friend Steve. Steve would have been the first person I would turn to in times of sadness and self-doubt when trying to settle in Australia. Now, it is my mother.

This is a bigger cultural change, a deeper more emotional challenge, moving to Thailand. I wanted to share it with my mum and listen to her advice. I know what her advice would be but I would still like to have heard it from her own mouth. I will stay strong, continue to make her proud.

This afternoon I have a Skype interview for the CELTA course (English teaching) in Chiang Mai. I have done one of these interviews before in Sydney and was accepted to do the course but that time I was under no pressure and was fairly relaxed about everything and I ended up not taking the course at that time. This time I am more worried. This is something I need once I get to Thailand so that I can find work legally there. I am also, obviously, not in a particularly bright and cheery mood.

These days are dragging now, I’m getting impatient to take my next steps. Why can’t I relax, take everything in my stride, enjoy the free time? I often seem to be striving for the next thing, constantly on the move.

The fear of numbered days makes them pass too swiftly.

You fight for your life
Held back by fear of falling
You fight for your life
Held back by fear of feeling
You fight for your life
Held back by fear of freedom
Your only fear
The fear of freedom