Help Me, Ronda

I've been thinking about writing a blog about motorbiking for a while, but I have been too afraid that I'd scare the begeezus out of my mom. However, it has become part of my life, and it is largely the common majority's means of travel. So this has to do with Thai culture and life for us in Chiang Mai.

Ronda and I. Don't let the faded color fool you.

My motorbike's name is Ronda. Red Ronda is her full name. She's a Honda Dream. She has a sticker that says "exces" on her frame, which I find funny because there's nothing "excessive" about Ronda. And I think Honda forgot how to spell "excess". Ronda and I met back at the beginning of July at a motorbike rental shop, though not in front of the shop where all the expensive, shiny new bikes are parked to attract the eye of passersby. My good friend Pi Pae came with me and assisted me in negotiating with the shop owner to let us rent an older one for cheaper than normal (comes out to about $1.87 a day). Ronda was tucked in the back of the shop next to a completely rusted bicycle and half of another motorbike. It was her deep, slightly faded red, beautiful wheels and chipped, scraped, and cracked plastic frame that caught my eye. And no the speedometer didn't work. These trademarks only show her maturity in my eyes. I asked if the bike worked and got a shaky "chai...chai" (yes...yes) back from the owner. "Give me an hour" she said, so I left and came back. Sure enough she was purrin' like a kitten. A kitten with emphasema but, nevertheless, a kitten.

"Dream Exces". Notice underneath it says "..(something)..rter Honda". I like to think it used to say "Smarter Honda".

Ronda didn't hesitate to put me to the test at first acquaintance. Like breaking a young horse, Ronda bucked me off briefly, but only once. I had underestimated her first gear. I won't be fooled again. This reminds me of a spring break trip I took with a few friends to the Bahamas when JJ and I rented mopeds from a guy with a glock tattooed on his arm. JJ soared off his bike on the practice loop in front of a crowd of people waiting to rent them. Ronda didn't treat me that badly. We merely tipped over pretty much at a standstill, but the scratches went unnoticed when I brought her back in due to previous scars.

Ronda and I have been together now for three months. As long as I keep her filled with $3 - $5 worth of fuel a week she doesn't complain, though sometimes she cuts off at stop lights. She is strong enough to take me a solid 30-40 minute drive down the "super highway" to my Burmese school and a 15 minute drive to my Thai school. What's it like to drive down a super highway in Thailand on a motorbike you ask? Motorbikes drive on the left of the solid line of the shoulder. Cars don't usually abide by any speed limit, but there are people pulling out in front of you so often that 80% of cars and motorbikes don't go over 40 mph. Thus, there are about as many highway police cars and speed limit signs as there are teeth in West Virginia (badoom pshh). I've seen one so far. Yesterday I stopped to buy bananas while leaving work, which is in the back of a very quaint village. A tiny woman, probably 90 years old, asked where I was going, and I said home. She asked if I could give her a ride to the front of the village, so she hopped on side-saddle style - all 80 pounds of her. She grabbed my hands and hugged me when I let her off. I knew her for a total of about 4 minutes.

Driving in the city is a mixture of chaos and fluidity. The farong tourists who drive really slowly on the side of the road look as terrified as I did when I started driving because they don't realize that they are in the motorbike lane, not the slow lane. There isn't a slow lane. Once you understand the flow of traffic, things start to make sense. I am a very careful driver, but I have still been knocking on wood this entire entry.

View from the apartment during the afternoon rain today.

The other day at my school I was sitting on a hammock by the pond during a class break and saw a rat the size of a full grown dachshund. By far the biggest I've ever seen. One of my students killed it with a fishing spear. They were happy because it has been eating their veggies and rice.

The rat was under this chair.