Alberto Ferret

Did anyone know that this is the name of a designer? I almost want his clothes just because his last name is Ferret! I still dont have the "love me, love my ferret" hoodie I was intent on buying last year (once I stopped being broke).

So this blog entry is late because I have spent the last two or three days lying in a pool of sticky, smelly sweat running a 103 degree fever and curiously evaluating all the new red bumps/bites/marks on my body with more than the appropriate amount of panic. I spent all day Monday reading through malaria information (four times). I am truly my father's daughter.

But now I feel better so let me tell you about my new gym. Although Im a bit angry at the gym right now, since this sickness began the night after I enjoyed a relaxing sweat in the sauna (I know that proximity doesnt necessarily indicate correlation but the impressions still there nonetheless) I want to sing the praises of the gym from the highest mountain peak.

I never joined the gym before because pauperly princess me wasnt about to spend 2000 of her hard earned baht on a treadmill when theres miles and miles of road to run on for free. So for the first five months of being here in Thailand I spent every other day trying to convince myself that its fun to run, which its not. And thats its not too hot outside, which it is. And that the stray dogs dont all have rabies, which they probably do.
Im frustrated with being sick and I figured that working out couldnt really hurt me. The weather is now such that to leave the house at high noon is certain death; running is out of the question for someone of my weak constitution. So in the interest of actually working out again before I die of old age, I just sucked it up and decided to join a gym. I literally walked into the closest gym, easily detectable by the "Aquarium effect" windows showcasing the huffing & puffing middleaged Thai women on eliptical runners, and said "how much?" I forked over the cash, 1300 baht for one month of 6am-10pm including some ubiquious "membership fee", and happily became a participant in the human (5k) race.
I chose the eliptical runner that is in the corner with windows on both sides and have consistently used that machine whenever I go. Its not for want to be seen, quite the opposite, I feel less conspicuous with my back to the room. Silly huh? Im shy.
So two days of using this runner and chatting with a trainer named Bee, who is so excited to speak English he can barely form the sentence "how are you?", led me to discover that there are FOUR FLOORS to the gym! Three entire floors I have never seen. It was like Christmas in July (or May)!!! The second floor has free weights and ab balls and whatever else and the third floor has the aerobics room and womens locker room (with steam/sauna/shower) and the fourth floor is the mens locker room. Please keep in mind that this is a very narrow building and quite modest from the outside so this discovery was like opening those Russian dolls and just finding more & more stuff inside! The part that I find the most giggle inducing is that I joined this gym under the impression that it was just a room with some treadmills, eliptical runners, a couple weight machines (which I never use) and a magazine rack! You can really only imagine my delight and surprise.
So now Im really into aerobics. Im a girl of many talents and dancing is unfortunately NOT one of them, but I can hold my own after several years of jazzercise with my older sister. The important thing is that its INCLUDED in my membership. And rightfully so. Now I feel entitled to all these things. Of course I get to use the steam room - I am a member.

The real point of this story is that Im becoming utterly spoiled in Thailand. Between the frequent doctor visits for trivial problems like fevers and earaches, tooth cleanings and cavity fillings at the dentist, and gym memberships with steam & sauna, I cant imagine living without these things. How did I ever do it? How have my teeth not crawled out of my head in search of an owner who would take proper care of them?
This morning I thought about going to the dermatologist to see about my funny bug bites. THE DERMATOLOGIST!!! A doctor who exists for the sole purpose of checking your skin! Its almost so extravagent I can barely admit that shes already treating my acne (which by the way, at this point is starting to just impress and inspire me with how diligent it is - its like a cockroach). I also need to get my eyes checked.
And why shouldnt I? I deserve to give my body the best. But what will happen to me when I return to the land of no insurance and privatized health care? What will happen to me once I see that Bally's is going to take 50% of my income in exchange for using their treadmills? I suppose these are all questions that can wait until October. But the uncertainty of the future, the reality of the impermanence of my good fortune, it haunts me...