Oh how the Wrecking Ball misadventures continue….

 

This episode: Bangkok Thailand

Mission: Muay Thai Training with Buakow – K-1 Muay Thai Champion

Clint, Nick, Pickles and myself decided it would be an awesome idea to travel half way around the world to visit the birth place of Muay Thai…  Thailand. This would be my third endeavor to train in Thailand, so I knew exactly what to expect. My entourage, however, was in for a very BIG surprise, and I was excited to see how they would embrace this completely different culture. I was rather vague in my descriptions about the country because I didn’t want to ruin the surprise for my fighters. I wanted them to create their own first impressions for that is half of the fun. Needless to say, I was interested to see how they would react to the interesting features Thailand has to offer – like its common Eastern toilets that were merely holes in the ground with a platform and some grip tape to stand upon. Why spoil the surprise, I thought, a third world county is filled to the rim with new experiences.

Now, two weeks of training in Thailand converts to two months of training here in the states, due to the intensity of the work-out sessions and the extreme heat factors that are ever looming in Thai training camps. With passports in hand, weeks of pre-trip circuit training woven into our muscles and large quantities of diarrhea medication tucked away in our bags, the four of us set out for O’Hare international airport on July 14th for a two week training camp in the midst of Mother Siam.

After suffering a 30-hour flight accompanied with inedible, indescribable and unrecognizable plane food mysteries, the gang and I finally touched down in Bangkok at 11pm. Now reader, you must realize that Thailand is 13 hours ahead of us, so to our incredible confusion, we some how skip a day of life while traveling in the air due to the time changes. So leaving Chicago on Tuesday somehow translated into landing in Thailand on Thursday.  Regardless, we landed safely, passed immigration with ease and successfully found our driver from the gym all before 1am. Not bad for the trip’s beginnings. 

Now as I stated before, I have been to Thailand several times prior, so I kind of knew the routine with the gym-driver and the trip to the camp. But this time, some very interesting foreshadowing occurred that began to set off red flags. The first of the flag show was the fact that our driver spoke no English… AT ALL! In my prior trips, I could communicate my needs to my driver even if he spoke minimal English. This driver (notice I keep saying “this driver” because he never conveyed his name to us – no English wink wink) looked at the four of us, gave a quick up and down with his eyes and then began a series of hand motions which I believe translated in to, “follow me please you silly bastards so I can take you to the camp where the trainers are going to kill you with pad work that will make you wish you had never been born!” Now due to my limited fluency in hand motions and grunting sounds, I could have been wrong, but it was the first thing that popped into my head when our driver grunted and waved his hands.

The driver placed our luggage in the back of a pickup truck and made more hand gestures for us to get into the cab. The humidity was already beginning to have its way with us because once we entered the truck’s cab our shirts were sticking to our skin and the vehicles AC began to work against our balmy clothes. We were very hot one moment and shivering the next. Jet lag and constant temperature dynamics made for a very uncomfortable arrival.

A very silent and disagreeable two-hour drive from Bangkok to Por Pramuk gym followed. We found ourselves in the most under-developed and isolated town I think I have ever visited, that is, if I can even call our destination a town at all. It was more like rows of dilapidated shakes, a few buildings that look as if they survived a bombing and a gas station. This may explain why the driver spoke no English. We were so isolated from civilization that the inhabitants of this province most likely never needed to learn another language. There was no reason for foreigners to visit the area for it had no tourist attractions. No foreigners = no English. We reached the gym at 3am and the next sequence of red flags began to frantically wave. 

The main street to the gym was separated by a very beautiful stretch of dirt road ornamented with rows and rows of coconut trees and river ways.  It was a warm welcome to the gym and very picturesque. However, the moment we merged onto the road our nostrils began to tingle with the scent of something foreign and nauseating.  

As we neared the camp, the scent strengthened and our empty stomachs began to turn. Apparently, the brochure to Baukow’s camp failed to mention that a pig farm was also located on the same premises as the gym. I failed to see any pictures of the farm on the gym’s website and there were no warnings that stated the stench of pig fecal was complimentary with our stay. We entered the gym driveway; again more dilapidated shacks, and several feral dogs, salamanders scurrying about the walls and the squeal of 30 to 40 pigs filling the nights moist and humid air, greeted us. Our driver grunted, which meant get your stuff and follow me, and walked us to our rooms. Pickles and I would share a room and Clint and Nick would room together in another part of the gym. Finally we could rest after the long journey.

Ohhh the rooms… All I can say is that the rooms were that of a Thai prison containment cell. I will spend little time on this description for I feel pictures will speak a thousand words, maybe more. The beds were solid wood and the bathroom looked like a perfect setting for a scene from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Nasty, nasty nasty. All of us were completely baffled by the bathroom. It was a rickety door, a hole in the ground with a platform and grip tape, a bucket in the corner containing dirty brown water and a long wooden stick resting against the wall. It had all the athletics of an outhouse with one additional feature. This gem of a bathroom also contained our showerhead. Oh dear god, I thought!  Need I say more? See pictures.

Now, this adventure had a very positive side to it as well: the training. Our training session was divided into two workouts per day. Each session was roughly 3 to 4 hours apiece and was without a doubt the toughest thing any of us have ever done. Due to the gyms isolation from the rest of the world, the training is very rigorous, taken very seriously and the gym breeds nothing but champions.  There are no distractions and all the fighters are cooped up with nothing but other men and testosterone for weeks at a time. This creates an extremely aggressive fighter. Their fight styles literally match their tough lifestyles. They are hard, driven and with out mercy in the ring. Each fighter, even the children are belt holders and undefeated in boxing and Muay Thai. It was a very impressive quality. 

Here is a quick glace at our training regiment.

5:30 am 7 mile run

6:00 am Bag Rounds   (10 minute rounds)

7:00 am Pad Rounds   (10 Minute rounds)

8:00 am Bag Rounds (10 Minute rounds)

8:30 am 100 sit ups/ weights

9:00   am Breakfast (rice and eggs)

10:00 am Nap/read/ internet/ grocery store

4:30 pm 7 mile run

5:00 pm Bag Rounds   (10 minute rounds)

6:00 pm Pad Rounds   (10 Minute rounds)

7:00 pm Bag Rounds (10 Minute rounds)

7:30 pm 100 sit ups/ weights

8:30 pm Dinner (rice and eggs – Again!!!!)

Even more impressive was the nature of the fighters outside of training. They were all very warm, very welcoming and without ego. We all trained together, ate together and on the weekend, partied together.  They looked after us and made sure we were safe from harms way, accept for Saturday night when two of our trainers nearly started a brawl at Club Dome. All I know is that all the fighters, Buakow and our coaches were suddenly whisked away outside and a series of switch kicks, screaming and falling bodies began to ensue. In the end of the melee, I know there were several individual laying motionless on the floor and myself and the Wrecking Ball crew were drunkenly trying to throw our trainers in the bed of the pickup truck before any other people received kicks to the head. They were literally wiping out anyone in their way. Defiantly a story I will tell the grandkids.

All and all the trip was successful. We made some great friends like Ciro, the Italian stallion from Milan. He is such a great guy!!! Ciro, if you are reading this, we really miss you buddy. Thanks for finding Clint’s elephant. We received some killer training under the watchful eye of K-1 champions and Lumpini bad boys, and I had the chance to bond with my fighters and watch them literally grow and mature right before my eyes. I love you guys and thank you for all the memories and hard work in Thailand. Thank you for impressing all the coaches in the motherland. You all represented Scott and I with grace and honor. Scott and I are very proud of who you were and what you’ve become. 


Wreck’em All

Brian  Wrecking Ball