What do you do?

Originally posted on OnStage Dance Company website blog:

What do I do?

I dance.

And I travel. And I work. And cook. And eat. And teach. And fail. And laugh. And write. And sometimes run. And sometimes not. And I explore. And get lost. Very often. And also trip. And I love. And create. And I procrastinate, unfortunately, more than I’d like to admit.

Oh, and I read.

And recently I read a book entitled The Geography of Bliss and I want to tell you a little something about it. No, it is not a self-help read, although maybe, in a way, I suppose it is. The book follows NPR correspondent Eric Weiner as he travels the world in search of the happiest place on Earth. Despite the adage, I often judge books by their covers, and the world map folded into a paper airplane ready to launch, pictured on the front of this memoir, drew me immediately to the outdoor sale rack of a locally-owned bookshop. I have a small but aggressive strand of wanderlust, and when I can’t be traipsing the globe, displacing myself into different landscapes and cultures, I enjoy living vicariously– this time, through self-proclaimed grump Eric Weiner.

The book was really good; you should read it! But, I digress. As he travels from one country to the next, West to East and back again, Weiner explores positive psychology from all angles and landscapes—unpacking the different ways we define happiness and seek it; how we quantify it, and how it manifests in ways beyond measure. In addressing some of these differences, he notes that each country has a “cocktail party question”—a simple, one-sentence query which, based on that population’s priorities and interests “unlocks a motherlode of information about the person you’ve just met.” In Switzerland, he observes, it is “where [what town] are you from?” In Britain, “What school did you attend?” I think in Ecuador the question would probably be “What do your parents do for a living?” and in Thailand, perhaps “How much money do you make?” or “Can you eat spicy?”

Take any or all of these with a grain of salt, of course, but I really think that Weiner may have hit the nail on the head for the good ole U.S. of A:

What do you do?

Truly. Have you noticed? This itty bitty sentence– these four, one-syllable words, strung together with upward inflection– are inserted into nearly every new encounter. I know what you’re thinking– harmless, right? Perhaps, but speaking as someone who is in a state of professional “transition” (as I like to call it), and was un[der]employed for the better part of last year, let me tell you that I have developed a strong aversion to the cocktail party question. What do I do? Is this what I want to be doing? Does it bring me pride? Fulfillment?  Self-worth? Is what I do to pay (or not) the bills really what makes me “me”? I’ll spare you the nitty-gritty, but suffice it to say that, for me, 2013 was largely a minor existential crisis.

So what does this disjointed mess of a blog post have to do with OnStage Dance Company?

I danced my entire life—from “animal crackers in my soup” at age three, up through college, after which point other goals, adventures, jobs, passions, pursuits, and probably excuses let the performance-based dance that I love fall to the wayside. I don’t regret any of these goals, adventures, jobs, ect. The past five years have been challenging and remarkable. But dancing is part of the very fibers of who I am.

I’ve never been the best dancer in any group of which I’ve ever been a part; my technique certainly leaves plenty to be desired. But when people see me dancing, I believe that they can see my love for it. I believe that this love shines out my fingertips and toes and elbows and eyeballs, and that they understand something that is more fundamental to who I am than waiting tables or answering telephones could ever be. Dance is expression in its most rudimentary form—requiring no tools, no instruments outside from your own body and mind. It is celebratory. It is poetic. It is collaborative and it is athletic. It is the most satisfying mix of creativity and endorphins.

Dancing again, for the first time in years, was part of an effort to shift my focus from what I did not know to what I do. I’m still searching for a better sense of geography– of my own place and purpose in this world– but in the meantime I’ve managed to accept this uncertainty and turn toward those things that I know bring me happiness. Dancing with OnStage this past season was an opportunity to stretch my body and soul in a way I hadn’t in some time, and to meet a wonderful community of people who share that passion. Dancing and friends. These are things that make sense to me. These are things that bring me bliss.

I know that this story is not unique. I know that these are the questions of many-a-20-something-year-old, and it is unnerving, though also strangely comforting, to realize that these also may be the same questions of so many older and wiser than me. For the time being, I am following my bliss, and I think that that is a good strategy. Even as the uncertainty moves aside to make way for stronger, clearer goals, I hope to always remain committed to a more holistic definition of “self” than what I do to pay the bills.

I’ve never been a whiz at math, but I do know that the sum is always greater than its parts, and I believe that I am greater for the arts.

Underwater dreaming

Every little girl from my generation had her favorite Disney princess. Not every girl from my generation can still, twenty-odd years later, sing the entire score from their princess’s movie, but that’s beside the point.  For me, this princess was none other than  ginger fish-girl, Ariel.  I remember singing “Part of Your World” alone in the dark basement of the house I grew up in, fantasizing that the shelving unit my toys were stacked on was actually the levels upon levels of “gadgets and gizmos aplenty” that I stowed in my underwater cavern of treasures.  I was a a bit of a dreamer.

This past weekend was a four-day-er, thanks to the Buddhist lent.  Buddhist holidays are to me now what Jewish holidays were to me in grade school– religious rite for you, day-off for me.  So, I observed the sacred days by catching an overnight bus down Thailand’s southern peninsula last Wednesday, and by Thursday morning I was walking the gloriously sunny, white-sand Sairee beach of Ko Tao; where my first order of business was to find a dive school.

The beauty of the Thai islands (you know, aside from the glorious sunshine and white-sand beaches) is that there is truly something for everyone. You’ve got your party islands, your chillaxin-in-a-hammock islands, your fishermen islands, your rock-climbing islands, your scenic vista islands, your almost-like-Tom Hanks-in-Castaway islands. You name it, Thailand’s got an island custom-made to fit your own little idea of “paradise.”  Yeah, it’s a really rough life here. And Ko Tao? Ko Tao is the diver’s paradise. Crystal clear turquoise waters, living coral reefs, Flounder, Sebastian and the hot crustacean band, and best of all, unbeatable prices.  This little cashew-shaped island off the western coast of the Gulf of Siam is crawling with divers, both experienced and aspiring, as the costs are said to be some of the cheapest in the world. Still, with just under 3 days on the island and limited funds in light of my upcoming travel adventures, I opted for a one-day non-certifying “Discover SCUBA Dive,” with the enthusiastic and laid-back folk at SCUBA Junction.

The first hour of my dive-day was a quickie dry-land lesson on theory (I guess just strapping an oxygen tank to my back and dumping me off the boat is irresponsible?).  Alex, my instructor, explained to me and my fellow try-diver all the ways we could go about rupturing an inner-ear membrane, squeezing a lung, or getting attacked by a triggerfish, and taught us the strategies and sign language we could use underwater to avoid said complications.  Then, it was time for action!  SCUBA Junction doesn’t have a pool, so we started off by practicing the essential skills in some shallow water off the coast of Ao Leuk beach. I stood on my tippy-fins as Alex reviewed each skill from our  crash-course, then we we let some air out of our vests so that we slowly sank down to the ocean floor, where we sat on our knees for pop quiz time.  Somehow, being deprived of oxygen while I had to retrieve a lost regulator (the thing you breathe into) was no issue for me, but I had a small panic attack when my goggles filled up with water and I couldn’t properly drain them.  Alex calmed me down and had me try a few more times, but somehow this skill and I just weren’t jiving.  Finally, he said to forget about it, and that in the unlikely event that it became a problem he’d bring me to the surface.

THEN came the moment I’d been waiting for.  My mermaid moment.  I found my zen-place and we swam off into deeper water to explore Ko Tao’s lesser-known world. Within minutes, a baby stingray floated by us like a tiny flying carpet (…wait just a second here! Which Disney film is this???!). In that moment I was officially hooked (no pun intended).  I snorkeled for the first time back in 2010 in the Galapagos and saw some incredible creatures– a giant mama stingray nuzzled into the sand on the ocean floor, some playful sea lions and torpedo-esque penguins zipping through the blue, a white-tipped reef shark just kind of… chillin’.  The aquatic life, to be sure, was in much more variety in the Galapagos, but the serenity of the experience was rudely interrupted every couple of minutes when I’d break through the surface, spitting out salt water and gasping for air as I shook my mask clean. This new sensation of being… suspended… and enveloped in a thick, warm air- entirely weightless, was completely surreal.  Also, I had mermaid hair.

From what I recall, my first SCUBA experience looked a little something like this.

My try-dive friend and I followed Alex around like little swimming puppies (dog-fish?), marveling as he became an underwater magician.  Waving his hand in front of some coral, tiny little Christmas trees in vibrant yellow, red, and blue blossomed and retracted before our eyes, and some giant, curvy-mouthed shell opened its  jaws, sensing his approach. We saw butterflyfish, moorish idol fish, parrot fish, Nemo fish (sh#t! Wrong movie again!), and another, larger stingray with glowing neon blue spots.  At one point, a school of tropical fish nose-dived down to the ocean floor from atop a big coral cliff– a waterfall of grey and gold.

SCUBA didn’t come naturally to me, but as we glided along I began to get the hang of controlling my depth, breathing out long and hard to feel my body sink further down and inhaling deeply to fill my lungs with air and rise closer to the surface. It was a totally new way to control my body, and I never really achieved a good balance, but enjoyed exploring this newfound power in my breath. As time ticked away I was amazed at how long I could really stay part of this world.   Fifty minutes after our descent, it was time to get back on the boat. But, thoroughly seduced and craving more, I eagerly forked over the 850 baht to go for a second dive.

So much for trying to save money by doing a try-dive. Now that I’ve had a little taste I am greedy for more.  I’m thinking about splurging on my Open Water Certification before I leave here. On one hand, it is rather pricey, but on the other hand, I probably can’t do it cheaper anywhere else, and how often are you living in South East Asia?  Things to consider…

I’ll leave you with some photos of the stunningly beautiful Ko Tao, and it’s baby sister island Ko Nang-Yuan.  Hoping to return here before I bid farewell!

Faster, Higher, Stronger

Anyone who knows me knows that my attention span for athletic events– any athletic events– is pretty short (read: nonexistent), and my understanding of athletics, even less (read: negative existent). My uncle loves to tell the story of the time when I sat by him at a Hartford Whaler’s hockey game and earnestly asked why a player was sent to the penalty box for “stick holding”… aren’t they all holding sticks?  And it wasn’t but three or four years ago that I turned to my older sister while watching a Red Sox game from her couch to declare that the “back-catcher”‘s pants looked far too tight, and he should really loosen his belt.  Once she understood that I was referring to the umpire, it was a hot second before all other members of my immediate family caught wind of my idiotic remark (thank you, texting).  And, lest I forget… perhaps not just a testament to my lack of sports sense, but common sense too… the time, MANY YEARS AGO, when I asked how many quarters were in a football game.  Good one, Christine.

But, the Olympics I can get behind.  There’s something special about an event that can incite so much patriotism and camaraderie… even I have to jump on the bandwagon.  Politics and religion and Sox versus Yankees and everything that we feud about are set aside, and so long as we’re all tuned into NBC, we’re all on the same team. Team USA.  I always laugh at those guys who get so invested in their team that they won’t change their underwear or brush their teeth until the championship is through.  Honestly, do you really think that your ugly, patchy, grody whiskers are so divine that you’ll squander a Superbowl victory if you so much as give ’em a trim?  Yes, I do realize that this is often done in jest, but then I have to wonder: is it really?  Some part of them, I think, really believes it.

Well, this is a shout out to all you grody bearded fellas with the foul-smelling breath!  This is to say, that while I will continue to wash my underwear, I can kind of almost see where you’re coming from. Because when those Olympians stand up on that podium, the American flag triumphantly billowing behind them and the Star-Spangled Banner sounding out of my television set, a part of me truly believes that I have a claim to some of that gold hanging around their necks.  And when they’re blubbering into the reporter’s microphone that “this one’s for you, America!”, some part of me really does swell with pride.  You’re welcome, Michael Phelps!  You are welcome.

So, yesterday morning I suddenly got very excited for the big event, and was quickly disappointed to find that the Internet had failed me.  Alas, I’d been able to find next to zero coverage on YouTube so early in the morn, and no satisfactory streaming sites.  I’m going to keep hunting, but, as chance would have it, I did manage front row seats to Suphan’s own little version of the Olympics this past week.  And, while perhaps it was no London 2012 Opening Ceremony, the students at Sa-Nguan Ying did put on quite the impressive show!

Imagine the curiously Thai love-child of the Olympic Games and a U.S. Field Day, at a Lady Gaga concert, and that was the Sa’Nguan Ying Sport Festival.  Schools and universities all over the country shut down for this annual spectacle of color, choreography, competition, and camaraderie.  And it was awesome.

The students were divided into teams and assigned a color, around which the older kids led the littles in designing costumes, banners, chants, and cheers.  On the first day of the Sport Festival, the kids paraded from the market in the city-center to school, banging drums, twirling batons, and pushing home-fashioned floats down the street as cars, motorbikes, and tuk-tuks weaved in and out.  Yes, remember that this is Thailand, people… no streets were shut down in the making of this parade. Instead, the children and motorbikes shared the road peacefully as one.

They looked so grown up… It was hard to believe these are our kids!

Some of the older girls donned traditional Thai dress, poofy princess gowns, or Gaga-inspired warrior dresses, while the M1’s and 2’s charged into battle with cardboard swords and pompoms in hand.

Eyeballs and the Earths seemed to be reoccurring themes, but I’ll have to ask my kids for more on that on Monday.

After the parade, the students stood in groups behind their team banner while the National Anthem was played, opening remarks made, and the torch– yes, the torch– was lit.

Next came the cheerleading competition. But Thai cheerleading, I learned, is far more theatrical than any I’ve seen stateside.  In a word, it was a production. While the kids danced and cheered in funky and elaborate costumes, equipped with sets and props, their color teammates in the stands had their own choreography to perform, waving flags and fans and pompoms, while others chanted and amp-ed up the crowd with their drum beats.  Every kid in the school had a role to play, and each one carried out their duty with heaps of enthusiasm!

And, finally it was onto the football and basketball tourneys.  On Day 2 of the Sport Festival I watched my M4 boys face my M5 boys in a bball match.  Torn between my babies, I found myself cheering for both teams.

In the end, M4 was no match for Nai and his jump shot

Luckily, this won’t be a problem during the Olympics.  The US has my allegiance, of course, but still, it doesn’t feel right rooting against Thailand, which has been my home for nearly 10 months.  So, I’ve decided that since a Muay Thai gym here in town has welcomed the other farang and myself to work out with them for free, and because it is a super bad ass National Sport, Thailand can share my support in the Olympic boxing ring, and the U.S. can have the lot of it everywhere else.

And, of course, I’ll be cheering for Donn Cabral, the baby brother of an old high school friend, as he represents Team USA in the Steeplechase.  If Michael Phelps and his 12,000 calorie diet can win this anti-athlete’s attention, you better believe that I’ll be tuning in to see Donny kill it on the track.  Still, finding a place to watch the Games while I am weekending on the tropical island paradise of Ko Tao next Friday might prove difficult…

… I’m crying you a river as we speak. 🙂

When Imodium won’t do the trick…

Today started out like any other day.  I reviewed for an upcoming test with my junior class, I did some lesson planning interlaced with periodic newsfeed refreshes.  I ate a great big lunch of pad krapow muu (spicy basil pork) atop a mountain of rice, dripping with the delicious yellow goodness of some poor chick who never had the chance to live. I came back to school, drank a cup of tea, and then it came time for my compulsory post-luncheon trip to the ladies’ room.

And that’s when my normal, like-any-other-day day turned. I did what I had to do (I’ll spare you the details), and then when I went to exit the facility to make my way to my lovely little M4 class for a lesson on asking for and giving directions, the door wouldn’t open.  Of course, my first instinct was to assume I was being an idiot.  I tried the door again… it didn’t open.  I pulled harder– still wouldn’t budge.  I even turned the knob to the left instead of the right (had I forgotten how to open a door?), but still to no avail.  I looked up and down the door at the metal stall locks running horizontally on the bottom and vertically up at the top corner, but sure enough I had not used those, thinking the simple mortice lock on the door knob (yes, I did look up the name of that for the purpose of this story) would do the trick… which evidently it had as there was no opening this door.  It seemed that when the button on the knob was released, the metal piece had still remained nestled in its nook on the wall opposite, leaving me helplessly stuck in the washroom with class starting in T minus…

…Nevermind. I heard the bell ring signaling the start of the next class.  I’ve had the experience in Thailand of being unable to leave the bathroom, but this is usually the result of something I’ve eaten… never because I physically could not open the door.  It was about this time that I realized that I would be making no graceful exit, so I started making noise.  First, a few knocks hoping that some passerby would hear them and acknowledge that it was odd for the knocks to be coming from inside the bathroom, but it wasn’t long before I had both fists pounding relentlessly on the door, calling desperately for help in between fits of laughter.

Finally I heard an angelic little voice from the opposite side of my barricade… “Teachaa? Teachaa are you okay?”  I told whoever it was (still unsure… it seems that they very politely decided not to remind me of my inglorious damsel in distress moment) to go fetch another teacher, and a few minutes later Kru Nok, Kru Fon, and Kru Ekawee had arrived.  They tried the key a few times, gave the door a few good shakes, and when Ekawee was convinced that there was no opening this lock, he went Liam Neeson on its a$$ and pounded it in, ripping the metal lock right off the door and a big splinter of wood with it.  I was free.

Buuuuuuuut then I had to explain to my students why I was late to class.  Of course it had to be a foreigner, it had to be me who went and got herself locked in the bathroom.  Of course it would have to be one of us clueless, incompetent little farang bumbling around here who had to be rescued from the toilet by her Thai colleagues.  Of course.

P.S. After writing this I had to add a “toilet” tag to this blog.  I didn’t expect to need one of those, but it turns out that my experiences here incite many-a toilet story.

Wai Kru — Wai Students — Wai haven’t I written in over a month?

Why, hello!  It’s been a while, and quite a lot has happened.  I’ve had difficulty as of late getting these first words down on the page.  But, here they are!  And the first hurdle is cleared.

The new school year is in full swing here at Sa-Nguan Ying.  The Thai academic year runs from May until the end of February/ beginning of March with a mid-year break in October, and in the case of my super-ambitions English Program children, portions of the interim periods are dedicated to extra classes, summer school, and competitions.  When I landed in Thailand in October, I arrived just in time to take on the 7th and 9th grade English classes with the start of the second semester.  Now, it’s 8 months later and I’m kicking off a new academic year with the sophomore, junior, and senior classes.

The school year is off to a strong start, and I find myself much more at ease in the classroom than I did in my first years of teaching.  I’ll go ahead and take a small share of the credit for that– my organization and time management, I think, have improved quite a lot– but the real delights in working at Sa-Nguan Ying are my wonderful, remarkably adorable students!  Their joy is truly infectious and, working with these students, I don’t think anyone could help but camouflage  right in in the Land of Smiles.

This past month, Sa-Nguan Ying students participated in Wai Kru celebrations.  The hands held in lotus, or prayer stance, known as the “wai,” is the Thai sign of greeting, thanks, and respect.  “Kru” is the word for teacher, and thus Wai Kru Day is Thailand’s national Teacher Appreciation Day. Teaching is a highly revered profession here in Thailand, and this holiday in which students show their respect and appreciation to their mentors is upheld in schools throughout the kingdom.  Students recite a wai kru chant asking for blessings from their teachers and present them with ornate flower arrangements– the blossoms traditionally symbolizing intelligence, perseverance, and respect.

The day before Wai Kru, the students in each class at Sa-Nguan Ying collaborated to create two flower arrangements, which representatives from the classes carried in procession during the next day’s ceremony.  They were presented in homage to some of the school’s most distinguished and long-serving professionals, then judged in categories of “beauty” and “creativity,” and displayed in the classrooms.

Pear, Aoy, View, and Boong representing their M2 (8th grade) classes

some of our M3 kids (9th grade)

Cee with the M6 “Angry Bird” arrangement

The Wai Kru ceremony was neat to see, but my real reason for writing today is to “wai” my super students, who make teaching at Sa-Nguan Ying such a pleasure everyday. Here’s why…

1) They’re super affectionate

Each morning I am greeted by so many bright and happy faces calling out “Hello teachaaaa!” from down the hall.  My Thai students are all a bunch of little love-bugs, and their love is unconditional.  The students love to give us hugs (refreshingly uncontroversial here), and every so often our days begin with tiny little Kaew with her squeaky little voice darting all around the office and distributing fragrant white flowers cupped in banana leaf vessels.  A deep respect for elders and especially their caretakers has been ingrained in them from the time they were wee babes, and though I don’t know that this unconditional love is always warranted, I do revel it.  Reading my students weekly journals, I once came upon an entry where the student wrote “Teacher is like second parent.”  I can’t speak for Thai student-teacher relationships everywhere, but I really do think it is a special bond that the students and teachers share here in the English Program.

2) They’re super expressive

These kids are super expressive, and the sound effects they make crack me up!  They have this way of saying “oooooOOOOOooooo,” in unison when they find something intriguing that is really quite uncanny.  I don’t know if it is a sixth sense, or if they all just have lightening-fast reaction times, but a nanosecond after one kid starts to “oo…” they all join in.  Believe me when I say that this choral “ooooOOOOoooo” is one of the cutest sounds known to man.  Put on a movie for these kids, and I’ve won myself 50 min of free entertainment without so much as glancing at the TV.  When my M4 (sophomore) kids completed their first unit test, we decided to take some time to chill out a bit by watching the movie “UP.”  I wish I had a sound byte of this for you. The room was filled with ooooOOOOoooo’s and Ahhhhhhh’s and Eiiiiiiaaaa’s and Ay’s!  Sometimes I thought they were going to jump right out of their chairs and lunge at the screen.  These kids are super enthusiastic, and it makes teaching them super fun.

3) They’re super not angsty

Okay, so I know that teenagers are teenagers and they’ve all got these rampaging hormones inside of them that make them momentarily insane for 3-7 years, but these kids are so happy! Then again, you can never be too sure in Thailand, because the culture discourages negative displays of emotion, but they sure seem happy.  And yes, there are some that are more well-adjusted than others, and the occasional “Eeyore” that sits alone and rarely cracks a smile, but the angsty-years just don’t seem to be as much of a rite of passage here.

4) They’re super singers

My students love to sing.  As a rule, Americans are exponentially more loud and boisterous than Thai folk… as a trend, obnoxiously so.  But in this country, when it comes time to set up the microphone and let out your inner-rock star, nobody’s putting Baby in a corner.  Uninhibited though they may be in so many ways, most people I know from home at least need some liquid courage before they’ll take to the karaoke stage, and that’s the brave ones. But in Thailand a party isn’t a party without karaoke, whether it is set up in a VIP room at a restaurant or hotel or out of the back of a pick-up truck.  My students love to sing, and some of their (and my!) favorite lessons are when I bring in an English song for them to listen to, filling in the missing words on their lyric sheets by applying our new grammar rules or vocabulary words.  After we listen, it’s time to stand up and sing, and most of them are not shy to belt out the lyrics!

5) They’re super sanook maak loi

That is, very fun to the extreme.  And pretty gung-ho about whatever they’re asked to do, so long as there is a steady influx of fun.  My Thai students have taught me to be less serious in the classroom.  I’ve learned that in teaching language learners, my number one goal should be to encourage them to enjoy English class.  If they feel comfortable in my class, they’ll feel more comfortable practicing their English and hopefully more inclined to use it outside of class.  Fun, or “sanook,” is a big part of Thai culture– go “sanook” or go home, one might say.  And these kids work so hard– attending extra classes after school hours and weekend enrichment courses as well… they get so excited when they get to let their hair down.  That is not to say that we play games everyday, but we’re all around a more happy and productive whole when the fun keeps flowing.   Of course, this is true of my students in the States, too, but somehow working with my Thai kids has really driven this lesson home for me.  The kids are gung-ho about anything with an element of sanook, and they are especially enthusiastic when there are Reeses Peanut Butter Cups at stake.  When these kids get competitive, man do they get competitive!

All in all, my experiences at Sa-Nguan Ying have been very positive.  It isn’t always easy to be working in the education system of such a foreign culture– quite a few of the practices that I’ve encountered here have felt counter-intuitive to me.  And it is the same in the States– there is so much “fluff” that can cloud your vision and make you lose sight of the main goal.  But whenever I’ve felt frustrated with the system, I have only to think about my wonderful, narak-ah kids and none of the rest matters.

Papa-Paparazzi

Sometimes, being a farang in Thailand feels a lot like being a celebrity.  Take it from someone who knows nothing about being a celebrity– the experiences are nearly identical.

Living in Thailand, especially in a city like Suphan where foreigners are few and far between, everyone wants in on your business. People are always wanting to know who you are, and what you story is, and where are you going, and do you have a lover?  And people look at you a lot.  And not discreetly, either.  This isn’t like when you’re staring at someone in a daze, and just as they catch you in the act you quickly shift your attention to some intensely fascinating ceramic mug to avoid the embarrassment of having been (GASP!) looking at someone!  I’m talking about shameless, full-on, bug-eyed staring… often paired with some very dramatic pointing and lots and lots of giggling.

Of course, in Suphan we white folk stick out like extremely irritated thumbs.  So there’s that.  But you can’t tell anyone to “take a picture– it’ll last longer,” because they probably already have.  I’ve been living in Thailand for seven months now, and this is one phenomenon that will never stop being hilarious to me.  Just imagine seeing some Asian tourists in Boston and asking if you could take a photograph with them- you know, because they’re Asian.  WHAT?!?!?   This doesn’t happen in the U.S.  It would be rude!  Racist, even. But in Thailand, you could be visiting a beautiful temple, admiring a lovely sea vista, mesmerized, perhaps, by a man twirling a flaming baton on his pinky-toe from the top of an 8-story human pyramid… and somehow you often end up feeling like the foreigners are the main event.

The first time this happened to me was at the aquarium during my first weekend in Suphanburi.  People were prancing around dressed as giant Nemo-fish and sharks– offering up hugs and Kodak moments to happy families– but this woman wasn’t interested in these characters.  Oh, no… she wanted to pose with me.  And her baby thought I was an alien.

Then there was a trip to Erawan Falls.  My friend Micah and I were just about to begin our trek back down the falls when a Thai couple approached us.  The guy wanted a picture with me, the girl with Micah.. you know, because we’re foreign.

Here’s a shot of me with some Thai kiddies at a temple in Saraburi:

And a monk at the Sala Kaew Ku Sculpture Park in Nong Khai who paused in his viewing of the massive Buddhist/Hindi statues for a photo opp with yours truly…

Monks aren’t allowed to touch women… hence the awkward distance in this picture

Naturally, when these people ask to take a picture with me, I ask them to take one on my camera as well.  I thought that this shot with the monk was nicely symbiotic– I usually avoid taking photographs of monks because it feels too invasive, but he asked first! How could I deny a monk such a gift? 🙂

And I must admit, though awkward, it is flattering.  And Thai people alwaysask.  It might be considered rude in the States, but folks there don’t seem to have any qualms about sneaking photos of unsuspecting people with their iPhones and posting them on Facebook; no doubt with some snarky and condescending remark alongside for the world to laugh at.  The Thais always ask, and it always seems entirely innocent.  I do wonder, though, what becomes of all of these photos?  Do you have a Facebook album dedicated to your farang-sightings?  Are you saving up for a photo collage?  Or am I posted on your refrigerator via magnet?  Just another one of the great mysteries of Thailand.

But, I’ve saved the best for last!

My sister, bro, bro-in-law, and cousin had a run-in with the Thai paparazzi like I’ve never seen before!  It all started while we were exploring Railay Island. The late-afternoon sun was at just that perfect spot in the sky so to make the Andaman Sea look like an ocean of glittering diamonds,and the massive limestone cliffs jutting out of it were silhouetted against the blue.  We agreed that it would be a nice place to get a group shot, so we asked a Thai man if he’d mind taking a picture for us.  After showing him how to work my sister’s camera, the five of us wrapped our arms around each others’ shoulders, smiled, and said “cheese!”  We thanked our cameraman, and just as we were waiing him goodbye, two Thai women in wide-rimmed sunhats ran on up to us and asked for a photo.  So, the seven of us posed for another shot. We again thanked everyone, and just as we were about to part ways another three ladies ran over wanting in on the photo, too.

And that’s when the sky opened up and a storm of Thai people gave way.  We were swarmed.  People were running up to us from all corners of the beach– diving in front of us, throwing up the deuces,flailing their arms in the air as they yelled at Cameraman to “Wait!!!”  All of the sudden we had gone from taking our own family picture to being the centerpieces in a Thai family’s vacation photo. I couldn’t stop laughing… it was a freaking riot!  I can’t even imagine what my siblings were thinking.  Dan managed to escape the mob so he could snag a shot of the insanity as well:

one big happy family!

Once the madness died down, it still wasn’t over. Then we had to take the small-group shots:

Who has a gorgeous farang girl on either side of him??? THIS guy.

Ever wonder what it feels like to be famous?  To have fans and tabloids all after you for a photo opportunity?  Well, a visit to Thailand, might just be a quicker and easier way to scratch that itch than actually making a name for yourself.  It’s a bit awkward in the way that so many things that I don’t totally understand here leave me feeling a little bit awkward, but it is so harmless, and flattering, even.  As the crowd dispersed, the women in the sunhats kept on telling Erin, Danielle, and I that we were “suay maak”… very beautiful girls! And honestly– who doesn’t like to hear that?

Thailand: Uncensored

Yeah, so we all know I’m biased.  Every time you visit my blog, you think “There she goes again! Telling me how awesome Thailand is blah blah blah blah blah my life is so fantastic!  yadda yadda yadda. Vomit.”

It’s okay, I get it.  So, in the interest of the “big picture,” I’ve compiled a list of what I think my siblings and cousin would consider the ups, the downs, the highs, the lows… what they loved most about Thailand, but also the things they could’ve gone without.  So here it is– Thailand: unbiased and uncensored. This is what happens when your Thai vacation stops being polite and starts getting real.

The names of places: HIGH

Thailand offers no shortage of amusement for the twenty-something-year-old male with the maturity level of an eleven year-old boy.  Enter: my brother Dan.  The key is picking and choosing your preferred pronunciation to attain the desired results.  For example:  the “k” in “Phuket” (usually pronounced “poo-ket”), as you may have guessed, actually belongs in the first syllable of the word, and the “ph” sound should be pronounced as an “f”.  The “et” should just be changed to “it,”  for added sophistication.

Now, in contrast, let’s take a look at Ko Phi Phi.  I think Dan would tell you that the Phi Phi islands, said “pee pee,” are perfect just the way they are, although a spelling correction might be in order.  Same goes for the Phuping Palace up in Chiang Mai.  Sadly, we did not get to see the Phuping Palace and thereby realize this opportunity for comedic gold.  Still, all was not lost- Dan did get a snapshot of the Phuping Police Station.  Thank heavens.

Cats, and all other animals (except spiders):  HIGH

One of the greatest challenges of our travels was keeping an eye on my cousin Danielle to make sure she didn’t try to pocket any stray creatures or hug a rabid dog.  Every time there was a kitty sighting I bade farewell to the next ten minutes of my life while Danielle tried to score a cuddle.  Cats, dogs, tigers, monkeys, lizards, frogs, elephants.  Double points for a baby.  On that ill-fated night that the Phi Phi party scene got the best of me, Dan brought a stray kitty into our bungalow and officially won the title of “Grand Cousin Supreme for Eternity.” Danielle took turns distributing water—a sip for Christine, a lap for the cat, repeat. (Then the boys shut it in a glass cabinet and laughed)

Spiders: LOW

Danielle approached all Thailand’s creatures with big smiles and open arms.  Except spiders.  Thailand had far too many giant arachnids for her taste.  This was a low for Danielle, but a high for the rest of us who got to kick back and enjoy watching her make a scene 🙂

Sticky rice: HIGH for overall goodness; LOW for availability

I told you this stuff was good!  The sibs had their first run-in with the glory that is sticky rice while sitting cross-legged on the floor of a Karen tribal chief’s home.  Our trekking guide dug servings out of a cooler with his bare mid-trek hands and tossed it into our bowls, and just like that, my cousin Danielle’s lust for the sticky starchy goodness began.  Or should I say obsession? Poor girl.  After we left the north, jetting down south in search of fishies and palm trees, sticky rice became no more than a teasing desert mirage in the tropical Thai heat. “Seafood!  Som Tam!  Sticky Rice!” one sign advertised, winning our business with those two magically carbo-loaded words. But, the moment we tried to order it, just like that, the mirage was gone.  They were out, and we had to spend the rest of the day in search of furry creatures to raise her spirits.

Sitting cross-legged: LOW

There are some things in life you take for granted.  Little did I know, the cross-legged position is an elite posture requiring skill and agility that some (ahem, Kevin) just don’t possess.  It is a taboo in Thailand point your feet towards anyone, so stretching the legs out while seated usually isn’t an option. My brother-in-law struggled. Each time Kevin managed to fold himself up, we had to hold our breaths to see if he’d manage to untangle again.

Heat: very high, but LOW

After sweating through his third shirt that day, Kevin requested that next time I up and move somewhere crazy, it be 10 degrees cooler.  He suggested Nebraska.

Prevalence of phalluses: HIGH

No pun intended.  Anyhow, male genitalia seemed to pop up (haha… but that one was!) everywhere on this trip.  A giant sculpture on Ko Phi Phi Don was perhaps the first surprise, but the Phra Nang Cave on Railay Island was especially “happy to see us.” The cave is filled with hundreds upon hundreds of phallic wood carvings– offerings to a seemingly sexually frustrated princess-ghost.  Also, every postcard display we saw down south featured elephants and their, well… “down-souths”.  A local man we met in Khao Sok National Park who went by “Jungle Man” shared a warming tale of a naked man with his head in a tree and a bear hungry for some “fruit.”

Wats (temples): HIGH

A what? A wat!  A what? A wat? A what? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!

Countless opportunities for the cheese factor.  I wish I could say it never got old…

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Stairs: very very high, and yet… LOW

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We climbed so many freaking staircases on this trip!  I do not know where they all came from, but all of the sudden my family showed up and Thailand became one massive uphill climb.  Everywhere we went- temples, guesthouses, look-out points… each one with more stairs than the last.  Around step number fifty-thousand, it started feeling a tad bit masochistic.

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Bangkok Taxi Cabs: LOW

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Bangkok cab drivers are pretty easy going — they’ll let you squish 5 people and all of your luggage into one regular-sized taxi if you can tough out the cramped ride, and meter cab fare is absurdly cheap.  All they ask in return is that you follow their seven simple rules:

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No titty-grabbing, no durian fruit, no alcohol, no foxes, no banging, no weaponry, no farting….

This, of course, didn’t fly for either of the Dans. Danielle was pretty upset to leave her fox behind and Dan had a lot of trouble holding in #7.

… and last but certainly not least…

Peachy: HIGH

Thailand’s got loads of elephants, but Erin and Kevin were lucky to ride the best elephant in all of Thailand.  His name was Peachy and he dominates everything. He’ll be starring alongside Hulky and the gang in The Advengers 2.

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So there you have it, folks! This is the Thailand that the guidebooks don’t tell you about.   Thailand as only a group of siblings/ cousins with a penchant for banal humor and an enthusiasm for each others’ company can experience it.

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Oh, and sorry…you kind of had to be there.

Let her eat cake!

I’m sitting on a train that’s slowly chugging its way through the Thai countryside, bound for the rural, reticent, and remote northeast region of Thailand.

Thus far, Issan, as it’s called, has been little more to me than the elusive, far-flung land where some of my most favorite Thai flavors were born—spicy som tam salad, that ever-seductive sticky rice, and the sassy lemon-zing of lahb… no desserts, of course– Thailand is not known for its sweets.  Although seasoned with scattered Khmer ruins and a healthy number of national parks, including Khao Yai at the very base of the region, Issan somehow manages to evade the attention of the tourist trail.  Nearing the end of my month-long holiday, tired after the non-stop action and adventure of my recent family visits, I’m ready to slow it down a couple of notches, and I’ve got a feeling that Issan will be just my speed.

This is, after all, very much like how my month began, and there is something very nice about that circularity—it is my vaca-denouement, if you will.  Except instead of heading northeast, solo on a 7 hour train ride, I started off the month of travel going northwest, in the company of my parents, en route to the mystical town of Sangkhlaburi.

Sangkhlaburi.  Oh, Sangkhlaburi!  It is, without a doubt, my favorite spot in Thailand that I’ve visited so far.  Just miles from the Burmese border, Sangkhlaburi is the most idyllic, mist-shrouded little town– surrounded by purple mountain silhouettes, furtive jungle, and steeped in a medley of Thai, Mon, Karen, and Burmese culture.  Ramshackle houses built on stilts line the Khao Laem Reservoir, as pontoon-like raft-houses with floating bamboo walkways calmly await the rising waters of monsoon season.  The longest wooden bridge in Thailand connects the Thai town to a Mon village on the opposite bank.  During the day, women can be seen crossing the bridge baring heavy loads on their heads, while at night, rooster-headed lampposts light up like two lines of stars across the silken black waters.

Getting to Sangkhlaburi was no easy feat.  The first van driver we tried to hire turned us down because he didn’t want to drive those roads at nighttime, and once we were finally twisting and climbing our way up and around the mountains, I understood why.  Thai people are not renowned for being especially safe drivers, alternating between whichever side of the road most strikes their fancies and/or  patience at any given moment. But our guy was honking his horn at every bend in the road, and I cringed with uncertainty each time he embarked on the climb, praying to all that is good in the world that another car didn’t come flying down the thin mountain road to make us forfeit our patch of pavement.  After a couple hours making our way through civilization, followed by a couple more winding through the mountains of upper Kanchanaburi province in the dark, I think my parents must have been wondering where in hell I had decided to bring them, but when we arrived in Sangkhlaburi, it was well worth our efforts.

Our first day in Sangkhlaburi was spent exploring the Mon village across the way– visiting an Indian-influenced Burmese temple that we agreed, though interesting, was far more beautiful from afar than up close, and stumbling upon a beautiful and sprawling forested monastery that looked and sounded nearly deserted, if not for a bunch of inbred dogs and the monks’ loud and hypnotic chants.  Walking back across the wooden bridge to our guesthouse, we befriended a gang of little Mon boys who were very proud to have captured a blue-headed rango lizard (as they called it… I certainly don’t know my lizards).  I took out my camera to document their accomplishment, and the little guy managed to squirm out of their grasp and right over the edge of the bridge before I got my shot.  The boys scrambled down the (very tall) wooden legs of the bridge to recapture their hostage as Mom and Dad and I continued on our way to find some lunch, but just before we reached the other side of the bridge we turned around to the sound of joyful screams and squeals, our friends sprinting to catch up with us, their arms flailing in the air as they presented the reclaimed (or, more likely, a brand-spanking-new) victim.  The boys, Rango, and I all posed for a photo, and they squealed even louder when we showed them the picture on my digital camera.

We capped the day off with a swim and a long-tail boat ride out to the sunken temple from the old flooded Mon village to watch the sun set, and our night was spent sipping Singhas/horrible, chilled Thai red wine that we ordered, regrettably, upon my request, tasting new Thai dishes, and playing three-person games of Hearts (during which my Dad failed to win the world-championship, if my memory serves me.  All of Thailand cried.).

Day two in Sangkhlaburi was Adventure Day!  When tourists visit Thailand, high priority on everyone’s bucket list seems to be riding on elephant-back.  I’ve done this now with every round of visitors I’ve hosted, but this Sangkhlaburi tour with my parents was in a class all it’s own.  We arrived by pick-up truck in a Karen tribe village following another reservoir boat ride around the towering waterside cliffs and floating community, and it was here that we met our pachydermal friends.  The elephants looked happy and healthy and well-taken care of, and as my mom and I sat perched on top they carried us past jungle-clad mountains and over river waters where kids were cooling off and women were washing the clothes.  Observing Thai hilltribe people going about their lives from atop these mammoth creatures added an element to the experience that elevated it (no pun intended) beyond your average guided pony-ride around a pole.  And for the return trip, we waved goodbye to Dumbo and the gang and mounted bamboo rafts, floating downstream past the same majestic vistas and some bathing water-buffalo on our way.

Being here in Thailand on my own is right for right now. It is an experience that I craved, and because of that I am hopeful and confident that I have a lot to gain from it.  But the sad part is that you can’t always have your cake and eat it too.  If what I crave is travel and adventure, it means leaving the people I love most while I go in search of that. And  sometimes, traveling on your own, or even with friends– but friends from distant places who come from different backgrounds and have different visions for the future, and with whom you really can’t ever be certain when your paths will cross again—you miss out on the post-travel. The “remember when?”- part-of-travel, when you get to relive it all through the stories and perspectives and recollections of your companions. Sitting beside my mom on top of our elephant buddy, admiring the vast Asian landscape together, this is what I was grateful for.  I know that, in all of my travels in Thailand and beyond, Sangkhlaburi is a place that will stick with me, and for that reason I am glad to have shared it with my parents.  Instead of returning home to the U.S. and saying to my parents “Hey Mom and Dad! I visited the most perfectly beautiful and tranquil place… it was called Sangkhlaburi!” I will be able to say, “Hey Mom and Dad! Remember when we went to Sangkhlaburi?”… and that is the really special part.  Sangkhlaburi was an excellent place for us to both check a couple items off the tourist bucket-list and experience some true and authentic Thai culture, but really, every place we went and experience we had was made more special, more memorable, by our being together.  So, it has been a good month. Despite Thailand’s poor selection of dessert items,  throughout my parents’ visit and my siblings’ soon after, I’ve gotten to both have and eat a lot of cake. 🙂

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(More photos to come– my camera is without its cord at the moment.  In the meantime, I’ve posted some of my parents’ shots.)

Tick Tock

Today is killer.

It’s been 5 months since I’ve been in Thailand.  Five months since I’ve been able to hug my mom and dad.  Skype has been a loyal friend when no other option was available, but it definitely leaves much to be desired.  And now my parents are in Thailand.  In Thailand and seeing the sights in Bangkok, while I am sitting in the office in between summer school lessons, helplessly at the mercy of the second’s hand, crawling at its leisure.

Honestly, this whole month has been cruel torture.  You know as you begin a marathon that you’re in it for the long haul, and there is a quiet and peaceful acceptance.  You find your rhythm and your pace and you appreciate the scenery and encouraging cheers of the crowds as you pass.  You commit.  But man oh man… getting myself up and off of my tush for a three mile jog is an arduous task.  Instead of that acceptance, that commitment, that sense of ” becoming “one” with time, I usually just want it to be over with.  It is only three miles, but with the finish line so close, it feels like fifty.

That is what today is– a three mile run.  Make that a three mile run, hungover on a Sunday morning.  Until recently, I haven’t been so antsy.  I knew it would be a long haul, and I had settled into that idea.  But now, my parents are in Bangkok, and have been since Wednesday night.  And here I am in Suphan, struggling through the longest day of all time.  It is just one day.  One measly day.  But with each passing moment I become more anxious, more impatient for the bell to ring so that I can hop the first van to meet them in BKK.

And how sweet that bell will sound.  Not only will it mark the end of summer school (with the small and painful exception of some meetings next week), but the start of a month of family and travel.  I am so amped to see my mom and dad, followed by sis, bro, brother-in-law and cousin, and show them everything I love to see and hear and say and eat and do in Thailand.  Here’s how it’a all going down:

*HUA HIN this weekend with my parents for fresh Thai seafood, beach bumming, bike riding, Muay Thai-watching, St. Paddy’s Day celebrating and (g-d willing) some real, flavorful, imported beer-drinking

*SUPHAN to wrap things up at school and show the rents my home digs. Pad Thai Lady, Noodle Man, som tam, and Cowboy Bar– they’ll be getting the full-throttle Suphan-X-perience

*SANGKHLABURI for misty river vistas, village wandering, elephant riding, and jungle trekking,

*BANGKOK to say goodbye :(, then onto

*CHIANG MAI for a few days of Thai lessons, followed by cooking lessons, temple visits, and hill-tribe treks with my siblings/cousin

*PHI-PHI ISLANDS, with limestone karst formations above and coral reefs below, and finally

*KHAO SOK to explore the world’s oldest rainforest.

*BANGKOK for some more goodbyes 😦

*annnd AYUTTHAYA for my obligatory 90-day Visa check-in

After that, I will go where the wind blows me.  I’ll have another week and a half before Summer School Part II begins, and I don’t know where I’ll be headed but I’ll try and keep you all posted along the way.

Okay.  I’m outty. Lataaaaa!

When in Rome

One of the things I dig most about travel is how it forces you out of your comfort zone. It’s all too easy to fall into patterns when we’re living our normal lives– waking up, working the 9-5, eating dinner, watching a favorite sitcom, and going to bed. Maybe you go to the gym, or mix it up by trying out a new bar rather than the same old haunt. Patterns are good. Patterns bring order into our lives, and with order comes comfort. Patterns are built on meaning: to strengthen relationships, our bodies, to decompress after a long day. We visit the places and the people that have brought us happiness time and again, because we expect that they will continue to bring us happiness. Patterns become patterns for a reason.

But sometimes we can get stuck in our patterns. This is where travel comes in: the “When in Rome” factor. Surrounded by new people and sights and sounds and tastes; aware of the transience of the moment, we become braver, more open-minded versions of ourselves. We recognize that we have, if only for a short time, broken out of our comfort zones and patterns, and we embrace the moment for whatever it is.

I consider myself an adventurous eater– a human garbage disposal, if you will. I will try just about anything. Even so, at home in Boston, I wouldn’t eat a maggot if you double-dog dared me. But one night out in Bangkok was all it took. On my third day in Thailand, I was exploring a BKK night market with some friends when we stumbled upon a bug-vendor. We deliberated and giggled and squirmed about it for a while, but in the end it was a unanimous “When in Thailand!” We came here to have new cultural experiences, and we committed to doing just that. We touched our wee beasties together in a toast and popped them into our mouths.

a la carte

Cheers???

I can’t say it was the most delicious treat I’ve tasted here in Thailand, but it didn’t make me gag, either. In fact, I followed my salty fried maggot with a pan-seared larva. Slimy, yet satisfying. I wasn’t brave enough to go for one of the giant cockroaches or scorpions this time around… but I will. Oh, I will… when that creepy-crawler least expects it.

My friend Holly was a real champ this past weekend, courageously noshing a meaty, leggy, gold n’ crunchy grasshopper on Khao San Road. It’s Holly’s last week in Thailand before she jets off to volunteer in Cameroon, so we all bore the summer heat on Saturday, hopping a van to BKK to help her bid farewell with the ultimate Thailand tourist’s weekend. When you’re doing as the Roman’s do, you get to indulge in cheesy delicious margherita pizza and wash it down with red wine.  When you do as the Thai’s do, it is vermin a la carte… bonappetit! Our friend Alex chose the creme of the crop for Holly, and we cheered her on as she devoured it… nearly painlessly. She was a great sport about it.

Our W.I.R (When in Rome) weekend continued to break from the norm as we hitched a ride in a tuk-tuk for a little rendezvouz in a seedier part of town. Let it suffice to say that this was underground Bangkok in all of its degrading, graphic, and chauvinistic infamy. The experience was vaguely interesting, but mostly just disturbing. I couldn’t detach myself from the situation enough to be entertained by the surreal and ridiculous performance that was thrust (pun intended) before my eyes. I’m not saying it wasn’t an impressive display, but between shaming my inner-feminist  and wanting to be asleep in my bed, I just wasn’t having it. If I never experience this part of Thailand again, it will be too soon.

The next morning we dragged ourselves out of bed, chugged some water, and prepped ourselves for a workout in the park.

Enter: Muay Thai Max.

AKA: Muscles Max.  AKA: Thai-Man-Candy Max.

Max is a professional Muay Thai fighter in Bangkok and a friend of a friend who invited us to Lumphini Park for a Sunday morning Muay Thai lesson.  Anyone who knows me knows I am a lover, not a fighter, and certainly not much of an athlete.  But, W.I.R.!  You probably wouldn’t catch me hurrying myself to the Boston Commons on a sleepy Sunday morning to learn how to box, but here I am- in Thailand- and this was an opportunity not to be missed.  We worked out with Max for about an hour and a half, dripping with sweat in the blazing Bangkok sun.  We learned to find our fighting stance and the basic offensive moves: the jab, elbow, kick, knee, and foot thrust.  As you can see, I am now an expert:

By the end of Max’s workout, I was drenched in my own sweat. I could barely lift my arms. Then, he congratulated us on finishing the warm-up. For Muay Thai Max, who runs for an hour, then jumps rope, then runs tires, then cools down with some shadow boxing and partner training (totaling a 5-hour gym stint), this was kid’s stuff.

Grasshoppers, “special shows,” boxing in the BKK summer heat, taking a 12 hour overnight bus ride just to spend two days in a distant rural town, or pulling yourself away from Facebook on a Tuesday night to walk to the night market because, well, you live a mile away from a Thai night market. The point I mean to make is that travel inspires new adventures. Some of these episodes, I’d never want to repeat again.  Some are perhaps not even really “doing as the Thais do”… more like the dirty old Western men. But these and plenty of other experiences here in Thailand are ones that I might not been motivated or bold enough to try if I weren’t in Thailand. Other “When in Rome” instances, such as local festivals, learning Thai, or getting down and dirty with the squat toilets have afforded me broader horizons and changed perspectives. I think that, in this sense, breaking my patterns becomes both a chance for adventure as well as for personal growth.

But, sometimes you can burn out on the W.I.R. factor too.  That’s, why after burning the calories in my Muay Thai “warm-up,” I decided to really do as the Romans do:  treat myself to a cheesy-delicious pizza.  Thank you, Bangkok  🙂