I can’t help it that my life is so awesome.

“There is probably no more obnoxious class of citizen, taken end for end, than the returning vacationist.” ~Robert Benchley

The situation in Bangkok is getting worse as the anti-government protesters clashed with police yesterday, ending in casualties on both sides.

The Red Shirts have succeeded in closing down most of the city, including public transportation and shopping areas, but they have not succeeded in making any political headway.

True democracy doesn’t work this way.

True democracy doesn’t blow the other side up when it doesn’t get its way.

True democracy doesn’t bribe and pay the uneducated masses to protest something that most of them don’t even understand.

The Thai people claim they want democracy, but this isn’t the way to go about it. Until the corruption ends on both sides of the line, these sorts of violent reactions will continue, bringing absolutely no peace to Thailand.

See all of my Red Shirt pictures here.

This past week has proven to be the worst rainy season I’ve seen yet during my (almost) three years in Bangkok. Aside from the horrible thunderstorms and ridiculous downpouring of rain, the area where I live and work is one of the lowest points in the city, so that means flooding… and I don’t own any galoshes.

Usually my walk to and from work takes about five minutes, but when you have to slosh through flooding sewer water as cars splash by and motorcycles try to run you off the also-flooded sidewalk, it can be a bit of a challenge. By the time I get to school, I usually look and smell like a drowned rat.

Of course, the flooding takes a toll on both driver and pedestrian – today, for instance, I waded through the water to catch a taxi to the mall. Unfortunately the taxi wasn’t in good condition to begin with, and the deep water didn’t help, so about half a mile from my destination, the taxi starts to rattle and shake and make all sorts of terrifying noises. It finally died on the overpass, so the driver coasted to a stop on the side and got out to look… not only had the engined konked out, but he had a flat tire to boot. Needless to say, I was kicked out of the taxi and had to catch another one for the rest of the journey (and I had to pay for both).

Last week my friend Helen and I got stuck at school during a particularly bad rainstorm and eventually had to brave the floodwaters so we could get home. Naturally we took the time to video our experience.

And that’s only the tip of the iceberg… at one point during the week we were in another friend’s car, driving through the flooded street in front of our school, when water started pouring in through the floorboards…

I would like to take this opportunity to point out that the water is NOT clean and does NOT smell good.

Tomorrow I’m breaking out the hazmat suit.

It started off in the usual way – dodging kamikaze sidewalk-hijacking motorcyclists while trying to walk to work – but started going downhill once I left my safe haven.

After a full day at school, my friend Robin and I were expected to be downtown at 4:00 to perform at a charity event that was raising money to help underprivileged children. Knowing it was a Friday afternoon in Bangkok, but also knowing that we had to work until 3:00, we planned to make a mad dash as soon as we could break away. An hour would be cutting it close, but we would just hope for the best.

Nearly three hours later, Robin and I were still in the taxi and had still not arrived at our destination. “Well,” we said, “that’s just Friday afternoon traffic in Bangkok… maybe they won’t start the show without us…”

And then the driver kicked us out. He apparently didn’t want to go any farther in traffic and claimed that we’d only have to walk two blocks (yeah, try six, buddy). So we climbed out and started our hike among the trecherous sidewalks of Bangkok.

We finally made it to the concert venue, horribly late and sweaty and soggy from all the post-rainstorm puddles. Miraculously the show hadn’t started yet, so I was able to perform and eat a muffin for charity (I’m always willing to sacrifice for the greater good). Unfortunately I got hit with a migraine after about an hour at the event, so I decided to skip out early and head home.

This time I had a plan: skip the taxi through downtown traffic and take the skytrain instead… If only it was that simple.

The skytrain was, of course, totally packed – I got groped several times, and the guy next to me had clearly forgotten his deodorant – but it got even worse once I got off the train and saw the line for taxis, which stretched out for at least two blocks.

At this point my migraine was raging, my feet were soaked, I was sweating like a pig, it was dark (I hate the dark), and my cell phone battery was completely dead. So, like the genius that I am, I decided to walk a few blocks and see if I could catch a taxi farther down the road.

I really should know better by now.

After about half an hour of standing on the corner waiting for an open taxi that never came, I gave up and started looking for a bus to hop on instead. Of course, I had no idea which bus to take (and no phone to call anyone with), so I just got on the first one that stopped – and with a stroke of luck, it was the right one! In the home stretch now, I settled into one of the shockingly uncomfortable seats for another thirty minutes of smelly transportation.

Finally the end was in sight. I was only a mile from home, thinking longingly of my soft bed and the good night’s sleep I was going to get… when suddenly the bus stopped.

In the middle of eight lanes of traffic.

And just like the taxi driver, the bus driver kicked us out.

In the middle of eight lanes of traffic.

Needless to say, I was quite a bit freaked out. I had to run across traffic to make it to the sidewalk (by this point laughing hysterically at the ridiculousness of my life) where thankfully there was an open taxi (where was he an hour ago?) who took me the last mile home.

So now, as I sit in my nice warm bed, I have to laugh at the fact that my life may be many things, but dull certainly isn’t one of them.

On the last day of the cruise we stopped in Cannes for a little while, and Helen and I took a bus tour of the French Riviera (which is basically a glorified beach resort). Not much to impress, but we did see the Palais des Festivals et des Congrès where they hold the Cannes Film Festival, so I pretended that there were celebrities nearby. (I have a good imagination.)

And that concludes Joy’s European Vacation Extravaganza! The cruise itself was so much fun (I won the karaoke contest!), and, of course, Europe was fantastic! Just enough to get a taste and convince me that I have to go back as soon as possible!

Even though the winding mountain drive made me carsick, the Amalfi Coast has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. We spent several hours just driving through the mountains, taking in the view (and of course I got hundreds of pictures) before heading to the ruins of Pompeii, which was fantastic. I’ve always been fascinated with the history of Pompeii, and seeing it in person was even better than I’d imagined. (Our friends Tom and Sue actually climbed Mt. Vesuvius, but I certainly wasn’t that crazy!) Seeing actual people and animals so well-preserved for almost two thousand years, not to mention the elaborate paintings and carvings in the streets and buildings… wow. If I owned a time machine…

I was traveling with my friend Helen, but unfortunately we were on different airlines. We had agreed to meet in baggage claim in the Barcelona airport before heading to our hotel together, where we would meet my parents. It seemed like a simple enough plan, but I should have known better. My first flight was delayed, and I spent over an hour sleeping on the freezing cold tile floor of the Bangkok airport.

By the time we arrived at London Heathrow (which is definitely on my list of worst airports ever) I was cranky and tired, which only added to the fact that my bags had not been checked all the way through to Barcelona (my travel agent booked two separate tickets, don’t ask me why), so I had a fragment of time to run to baggage claim, get my bags, speed through customs, find the airline counter (which was, of course, in a different terminal), check in again, and run to my connecting flight. Normally I’m an airport-running expert, but this time I was caught at the Iberia Airlines desk when the handsome young Spaniard behind counter told me that since I was not technically on a connecting flight, my bags weighed too much and I couldn’t take them. Faced with the prospect of missing my flight (and possibly my cruise ship), I naturally burst into tears, which is just what I do when I am angry or upset (and in this case I was both). Luckily for me, this terrified the airline representative and he frantically got on the phone and talked to someone in charge, who graciously allowed my excess baggage in just enough time for me to catch my flight to Barcelona.

Normally one bout of tears is my standard fare for airport travel, but then I arrived in Barcelona and it all went downhill. My flight arrived behind schedule because of problems on the tarmac, and Helen had been waiting for me in baggage claim for over 4 hours at this point, so I was already in a bit of a tizzy by the time I got into the terminal. After waiting forever for my bags and not seeing Helen anywhere around, I went out into the main terminal to search. An hour of walking up and down the terminal, but no Helen. I was, of course, totally freaking out that I had lost her. I finally went to an information desk and asked about her flight… and was told that it had come in at a completely different terminal. I pushed my baggage cart down to the next terminal and proceeded to wander up and down that terminal for another hour… no Helen.

After calling the hotel to see if she had checked in without me (she hadn’t), I was in a full-blown panic. In utter desperation, I went up to an airport worker who wasa standing outside that terminal’s baggage claim and begged him to go in and just see if Helen was inside waiting for me. Apparently he had just taken his daily dose of rudeness pills, and he basically told me to bug off and just suck it up and wait. Which, of course, set me off into another round of tears. I sat on my baggage cart and cried for a good 20 minutes before deciding to give the terminal one last walk-through… and there was Helen, who was also crying after having waited for me for over 5 hours in a cold, unwelcoming airport. Needless to say, we went straight to the hotel and fell asleep.

The only good part of the “adventure”? Seeing Ethan Suplee at baggage claim (who was apparently having his own European family vacation) and secretly wishing I was brave enough to ask for an autograph.