Aaron's revenge on all things six legged

I'm sitting here in our bungalow with the sounds of Thai Dubbed Juno filling the air and faraway monkey's looking for mates. We are prepping our cameras for tomorrows safari adventure (hoorah!) and I can't stop the desire to brush my teeth. Over and over and over and over and (yep- I'm going there) OVER again.

Why, I hear you ask? (you all lean forward in your chairs...)

Yep. I told that wasp from last night where to go. Down my insect eating thorax! Booya!

So yeah, Jian and I went to dinner at a little off the road restaurant. There was this giant, ancient, diseased ridden dog with a bleeding forehead there. And I loved that it was there. The longer I stay in Thailand the more humorous I find the anal retentive fear of anything un-P.C in the Western World. If that dog, which really wasn't that old, or that big, or that diseased (but it was bleeding) - had wondered into any restaurant back home- there would have been screams. They may have actually shot that dog. Actually, yeah. That dog would be dead. It just sat there and watched us eat. All the dogs here have strangely human eyes, this comes about I imagine because they are bastard animals of totally unrelated creed and colour, with multiple parents - resulting in animals that look at you with some sort of understanding; that this is how it goes, take it or leave it, but don't shoot me for wandering into your swanky establishment. I said to Jian during dinner (which was lovely), "See that dog? It's been wondering the streets of Koh Samui for years. Maybe a decade. And it looks healthy, content. What traveller, or resident of anywhere lasts that long?"

After dinner we went further up the road to the markets we briefly visited last night and saw... my destiny, and Jian's chagrin. Platters of beautiful Asian dishes, chilli coated frankfurts, carrot crepes and... deep fried insects! You could choose from grubs, crickets or cockroaches.

I settled on grubs. Why? Because it was the insect that required the least amount of chewing. The thought of feeling brittle deep fried legs shattering against my teeth, was enough to flip my stomach.

My grub, which I dubbed "Hakunah-matta" (it means no worries- ala Lion King)- was stuck to the end of a skewer. And the longer I looked at it's marinated, bulbous, salted body- the more I was sure it was still alive.

"Pwease don't eat me!" I heard it cry, "I never saw Paris!" I could relate, but it was John Barth who said: "The key to the treasure is the treasure." The fun in this trip, is the fun I was willing to have on this trip. With this thought in mind, I opened my mind - and my mouth.

Deep fried salted Grubbs tastes ... NOT like chicken- BUT exactly like the MSG flavouring you find in two minute chicken flavoured noodles.

Jian was not so keen to experience Thailand like this- which is probably far more sane. But it didn't stop me from getting a photo of him and his churning stomach just looking at an impaled cricket.

All in all a quiet day, revenge on insect life aside.

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