Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Send Me A Kiss By Wire, Baby My Heart's On Fire

So you're all wondering: he didn't bang any whores in The Las Vegas of The Middle East last week, he's been without a drink or a woman for two months, how is he getting his rocks off?

"He's a very sexual being, English Teacher X is," you say to yourself. "How does he express his Eros over there in a land of hairy dudes, bedsheeted women, and camels?"

Well. Russian girls love cameras, as I said, and it seems love webcams just as well. . .

Next best thing to being there, indeed.

Monday, October 26, 2009

What Happens In The Las Vegas of The Middle East Stays In The Las Vegas of The Middle East

So I went to the Las Vegas of the Middle East last week; it was a bit seedier, and thus more interesting, than I was expecting.

Got up early -- 5.00am -- and made the 2-hour drive with some colleagues of English Teacher KSM in their big fancy company SUV. We did a bit of sight-seeing since we'd arrived so early -- a Portugese fort, the beach full of fishing boats, a posh coffee shop -- and then checked into our respective hotels.

Mine was recommended on the basis of the "scene" in its lobby, which housed a 24-hour-bar and a shisha (water pipe, hookah, nargillah, hubbly-bubbly, kalyan, whatever you want to call them) cafe. The 24-hour-bar was full of drunk Arabs (still surprisingly in their white thobes) and a couple of fat Moroccan hookers at 10.00 am when I checked in; I don't think I saw it empty once during the next 24 hours.

We had a long beery lunch at the Hard Rock cafe and then retired to our rooms to rest for the evening; I took a walk in the evening around the streets surrounding the hotel, which constituted the city's "Gold Souq" -- a colorful mix of mini-markets, cheap Indian cafes, gold and jewelry shops, spice shops, and more damn counterfeit expensive watches than I've ever seen in my life. I don't even wear a watch but by the end of the day I was thinking of buying one just from subliminal influence of seeing all the damn things.

In the evening we went to a hotel disco that had a salsa band; and then on the suggestion of the breasty Thai hooker that one of the guys was with, we went to a dark, black-lit bar full of Thai hookers.

It was the damnedest thing though -- none of the Thai hookers offered to have sex with me for money. A couple danced with me, talked to me, let me take their numbers -- but never did I get hit up for drinks, a "bar fine" (money paid to allow the girl to leave) or just money for sex. . . perhaps I'm missing out on the etiquette of the Middle EAst, but in Thailand one waited for the female to broach the subject.

The bar after midnight filled up with a strange and sinister assortment of shiny-suited Neil Strauss look-alikes -- maybe all the girls had other plans for the evening. It was their peak evening, I suppose, and my cheap cotton trousers and white shirt were far from shiny.

We applied ourselves seriously to tequilla and beer and left the other aspects of the evening to take care of themselves -- the place closed at 2.00 am and we went home without hookers.

We smoked a morning water pipe at 3.00 am in the cafe in the lobby of my hotel, which was full of hammered men in white thobes; the sinister atmosphere was completed by one loud drunken Ethiopian prostitute who all the guys seemed a few drinks away from breaking into drunken war over.

We went to bed at 4.00am and I came home the next day with nothing but a hangover (guess that part doesn't stay in the Las Vegas of the Middle East.) Didn't even buy the counterfeit Tag-Heuer I had my eye on.

Ah well, next time.

(I didn't manage to sneak any pictures of much of anything interesting, and Google image search surprisingly didn't turn up anything much interesting when I searched for "drunk Arabs")

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Your Mouth To God's Ear

An email from a fan of the website:

Hey ETX,
I must admit that I have been reading your blog to see if you would go mad from alcohol and sex withdrawal. Well, I think I can safely say at this point that you are not an Alcoholic. How would I know? Well, I was kind of like English Teacher Q from Thailand, or Robert Downey Jr., back in my younger days. I go to those damn meetings with the steps and have done so for years. If you are not bat shit crazy at this point, it would appear that you belong to the lucky class of drinker who can take it or leave it. In addition, you never got into serious trouble with all of your adventures. I would have lost all my jobs and been some bad man's boyfriend in a Russian prison, had I attempted to live as you did. I am a little jealous, but not really. We don't have to give up whore-mongering, and I am too old now to be a party animal. I am jealous of your salary, however. :)

Looks like it. I don't miss alcohol that much, at least not yet. There was actually one day after work I had an unbelievable craving for beer; I had a couple of bottles of Holsten non-alcoholic and the urge went away.

In fact I look back on some of my former drinking binges with something like horror. Good lord, was I insane? What was I trying to prove, and to whom? God help you, Dear Reader, if you ever become a slave to your own reputation as a Fun Guy!

Anyway, I'm going to the LAS VEGAS OF THE MIDDLE-EAST next weekend (its glamorous streets pictured below.) We'll see what happens.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

The Man, The Myth. . .

Pity poor English Teacher KSM. A long-time fan of the website, he offered an interview back in 2006 that pretty much indicated he was giving up TEFL teaching altogether.

However, he did not do so -- like any bad habit, TEFL teaching is easier to start than to stop -- and he contacted me after I made my announcement that I was coming to The Kingdom.

Turns out that we're working in the same city here, in fact.

Now he's been in Persian Gulf countries for most of the last nine years; we're about the same age and the amount of time I've devoted to more-or-less complete debauchery, he's devoted to getting well-paying, professional TEFL jobs with major international defense contractors and such.

He lives in a large villa in a secure compound and has a big company SUV he drives (although he shares it with another guy); I live in a efficiency apartment in the faculty dormitory, and I drive a bicycle. (His job pays better, but we get three times as much holiday and work rather fewer hours.)

He's totally envious of my life to this point -- he missed out on the squalid debauchery, pointless womanizing, and retarded drunkeness. He knows a lot of those ETX stories by heart.

And then when he finally gets to hang out with the English Teacher X of fable and lore -- is The Legend getting wasted and chasing 19-year-old Russian trollops?

Indeed, no, he's ordering the double cheeseburger and an iced tea at Applebee's.

Then we wandered around the old city, and I gleefully shopped for $10 shirts at the cheap Southeast-asian clothing emporium, as he looked on somewhat bewildered. He can't really even be entertained by my stories because he knows most of them already.

ETX in action baby. Look at my works, ye mighty, and despair!

The old English Teacher X Website is now permanently down, or at least down until I get around to putting it back up, but I have linked to it via the internet archive known as the Wayback Machine. Ain't technology wonderful.

Friday, October 09, 2009

Straight From The Horse's Mouth

So one of the nice things about my job here is that I get a tremendous amount of paid vacation time -- almost three months per year.

I get a two-week holiday in November, in fact, and I sent an e-mail to a girl I used to know back in Vodkaberg, who is now working as a stripper and uh. . . party girl? in New York. I told her I was coming to America and asked if she had any hot friends she could introduce me to. Her response was:

r u coming to NY? u can stay at my place. introduce u to some girls?? LOL r u kidding me? all my friends r strippers (if we r talking about russian girls). its not russia so they r not gonna bang u for a drink and that u speak english.we r in america everybody does. they r material bitches. u spend money on them take them shoppin take them to miami and then maybe if they like u,or they might just use u for all that stuff so they'll just dissapear after the shopping. thats how it goes over here
but as i said u r my friend and u r always wellcome

Thursday, October 08, 2009

The Yard

So, had my first week of classes. . .

and it was fine, no big deal. Classes of thirty, but that just means you have to walk around a lot and talk louder, and I'm teaching Grammar and Writing classes, which means most of it is just watching them while they do exercises.

I will say though that walking towards the building on the first day the students were there -- I was greeted by the sight of hundreds of swarthy guys standing in the sun outside of the big institutional building in small groups smoking, all wearing identical uniforms of khaki pants and light shirts in various stages of untucked and dishevelled, most of them bearded and goateed, many wearing baseball caps and ski hats --

far from reminding me of a prep school, it looked more like the Yard at San Quentin.

But I should hastily add that I didn't get so much as an ounce of shit from any of them, they were all perfectly respectful and friendly. (I dressed up in a shirt and tie and glasses so I'd look more SuperTeacher-ish.)

Saturday, October 03, 2009

Working For The Weekend

In addition to having to get used to the fact that there are no nightclubs full of barely-legal Russian chicks, I have to adjust to the fact that the "weekend" here is actually Thursday and Friday.

Somehow the brain still keeps insisting that one's days off are Saturday and Sunday, and substitutes those words as such.

How was my weekend?

Went to a colleagues house -- guy I used to work with in Russia -- and had some of his home-made wine (first alcohol in five weeks) and BLT sandwiches made with the bacon he smuggled back in here from Canada. Then we took a ride on mountain bikes down the beach road.

That qualifies as a pretty wild weekend around these parts, I think.