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It seems that the honeymoon is over. I still love Thailand, and I know that Thailand loves me. But the stress of outside influences has infiltrated and popped our bubble. To be honest, I don’t much like sending this kind of negativity out into the blogosphere for just anyone to read. I have a strong distaste for the Facebook status messages people post lamenting their every woe. It always seems very melodramatic to me. But keeping this blog is another personal resolution of mine, and one I’ve neglected a bit as of late, and if I am going to tell my story, I feel I should tell my whole story… not just the parts with baby tigers and fish heads. So, please, if I sound melodramatic forgive me this once, although I am going to try to do this with jai yen… a cool heart.
The past few days have left me feeling pretty horrible. Why this is is irrelevant. But these horrible feelings have morphed from sadness to irritation to wonder to anger to a number of other emotions that I am too tired to consider now, because they have finally settled me into exhaustion. I am sorry, Thailand. I love you– I do. But I am just drained right now. Tired of so many things. Tired of feeling like I am living in a fishbowl. Tired of not knowing the language or the script. Tired of the endless hours of public transportation that I endure all the time here, whereas when I lived outside of Boston I never so much as traveled to the other side of the city if I could’ve avoided it. Tired of not having toilet paper provided for me in public restrooms, let alone hand soap, and tired of the doors that I then have to open knowing that no one before me had hand soap, either. Tired of having some sort of gastrointestinal manifestation– either one way or the other– on a near-weekly basis. Tired of not being able to talk to any of my family or friends unless through a machine.
While walking to school this morning I found myself so annoyed with all of the signs I could not read. Or rather, I was irritated at the idea of having to exert mental energy to try and read them. Up until this week, I’ve never experienced that. I’ve only been an enthusiastic and diligent learner here in Thailand. I’ve felt what I think it must feel like to be a baby– trying to absorb every new thing I see and hear. I try to read every combination of Thai letters I encounter. Usually, this turns out to be an anticlimactic exercise because I find I don’t know the word that I just read, and therefore cannot even confirm if it is a word at all. But when I do know it I am so wonderfully proud of myself. I often catch myself trying to read the license plates of the cars parked on the street, too. Then I remember that they are license plates. But this morning, I had zero desire to try and read anything, annoyed with the signs for their existence– taunting me and my illiteracy. And now that it is evening, I can’t be bothered with leaving my room and having to talk to people. I just want to sit on my bed and eat the cheesy delicious goldfish crackers that my dear friend Laura delivered to me from the States.
The thing is though– my hope is, anyway– that this, too (just like all those GI-issues), shall pass. The trouble with choosing immersion in a foreign culture as personal challenge is that you don’t get a break from it. I am living this challenge all the time. Well, except of course by doing what I am doing now– sitting in my room and avoiding the world with my smiley, sunglasses- donning baked-and-not-fried friend “Finn.” But the beauty is, despite my loss of mojo, I know that this is a great place for me to be right now. Honeymoon or not, Thailand and I are M.F.E.O (made for each other). Travel has a way of healing. It makes me feel more alive than anything else, and when you are traveling– not vacationing, but really traveling in a way that pushes you and challenges you, mind, body, and spirit, how can you not come out a changed person on the other end? A new outlook or attitude, redefined priorities, or simply a deepened appreciation for all that you have. It is such a personal experience, such an introspective solo journey, and I am really banking on it working its magic on me once again.
In the meantime, I wish to counter my melodrama with a list of some of the many reasons why I fell in love with Thailand in the first place– marriage-counseling style. I’m hoping the act will energize me a bit, and perhaps be something to wipe myself off with if the shit hits the fan again in the future (you know, in the absence of TP):
1) The Thai people who shwoop in to the rescue the moment they see the confused (or even entirely confident) look of a farang… wanting to know if you’ve eaten and where are you going… telling you what to order or what bus to take… and practically carrying you off the bus so that you don’t miss your stop.
2) My lovely students who are so narak-ah and love to sing and care so much about each other and about their teachers.
3) The pineapple. The heavenly, heavenly pineapple. And the sugar-salt-chili blend that I dip it into. And pineapple shakes. And all shakes.
4) The curly-cue letters. They have a strange familiarity to them. Make me feel like we belong together.
5) The street vendors and all their crazy foods that I sometimes can only eat if I do so before I ask what they are.
6) The food. Namely, som tam, sticky rice, and every kind of curry ever created.
7) Som Tam Sawng Num
8) Pad Thai Lady and Pad Thai Lady’s Mom
9) Banya and her Toy Story figurines and her delicious chaa manow and her fluff-ball dog that hates all foreigners
10) Temples and temple ruins
11) Teaching barefoot. It is quite liberating.
12) Quaint fisherman villages on tropical island paradises
13) Markets. Markets of a thousand colors and smells. Night markets, day markets, tourist markets, locals’ markets, crowded markets, crafts markets, foods market, fish markets, mazes of markets… yes, markets.
14) Wintertime. It never drops below 75 degrees, but the dogs are all dressed in clothing and the Thai people will sometimes show up in hats and scarves.
15) Mind-blowing juxtapositions of ancient and modern, developing and 1st world.
16) The cost of living. I buy lunch everyday from Pad Thai Lady for 30 baht– about 1 dollar. My purchases on the average day are lunch, lemon tea, and dinner… adding up to around 5 to 6 USD.
17) The holidays. Loi Krathong felt like a dream, the Don Chedi festival was lovely and theatrical and worth seeing twice, and I cannot wait to experience Songkran– the legendary Thai lunar new year festival in April which is essentially a three day country-wide water-fight. Forget Easter eggs– get me a Super-Soaker!
18) Thai massages. I’d never gotten a professional massage before coming to Thailand because they always seemed like too much of an indulgence, but at 5 USD in Suphan, even I can be convinced. They stretch you and contort you and climb all over you but man, does it feel good.
19) So many beautiful and spiritual and exotic destinations at my fingertips. So many incredible places to visit. I only wish it were possible for me to see them all.
20) Twenty seems like a good place to stop. Last but certainly not least, I’ve made some really wonderful friends here, especially within my EP family. I am so, so grateful for all of them.
Back at the start of December, during a long holiday weekend in honor of the King’s 84th birthday, my friend Megan and I visited Khao Yai National Park for some quality time with nature. We toured the park in search of wild elephants (unsuccessfully) and gibbons (check!) with a great group of folks from our guesthouse. While Megan and I probed and prodded our Thai company for new vocabulary, one Bangkok resident and teacher from Switzerland mentioned how she’d love to find a website with a list of all words that are the same, or nearly the same, in Thai and English to give her own communication skills a boost. Upon returning home, I scoured the internet but found no such thing. So, here it is!
Below is a list of Tinglish/ English words, which, spoken with a Thai accent or inflection, will add to your base of Thai vocabulary without you really having to learn anything new at all! The key is usually to say the words with the emphasis, and perhaps upward tone, on the final syllable, or to drop the final consonant sound, as the Thai’s so often do. Say any of these words with perfect English pronunciation and you are NOT likely to be understood in Thailand. BUT, follow these simple rules and, wah-lah! Your Thai language abilities have miraculously increased ten-fold.
This one’s for you, Marina…
WORDS SAME SAME IN ENGLISH AND THAI:
strawberry = straw-bare-rEE
banana = ba-na-NA
vanilla = wa-nill-A (the “v” sound does not exist in Thai, so is substituted for a “w” sound)
t.v. = tii-wii
taxi = tek-sii
okay =oo-kee
computer = com-pu-TAA
hello = hal-loo
menu = men-U
U-turn
badmitton = bad-mit- TON
ping pong (same word, maybe a different meaning)
wine
beer = bia (try this one with a Boston accent and you should be golden!)
soda = so-DA
toilet = toi-LET
sauce
jeans
stamp = sa-dtam (Thai’s often drop the last sound of the word, so even if this one is a little off I think it might be derived from “stamp”)
video = wii-dii-oo
cookie = gug-gii
durian = tu-rii-aan
necktie = nektai
disco = ditsa-goo
karaoke = kaa-raa-o-GEE
botox
broccoli = broc-col-II
gossip = goss-iip
tissue
baby= babe-II
america= am-er-ii-gaa
gas
campaign
dinosaur
more to come, I am sure…
And, if you’d like to move on to Lesson #2, try your hand at learning the Thai alphabet song. The name of each letter in the Thai alphabet integrates the name of a noun that (usually) starts with that letter. Imagine, if you will, that the letters “A” and “B” were actually called “A is for Apple” and “B is for Bear.” Go ahead- have a listen!
We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.
“Auld lang syne,” means “times gone past.” Did you know that? I did not (until a recent Google search, that is). Times gone past. It is a song about nostalgia, and yet we sing it to welcome in the new year. If fact, we spend our last 10 seconds of the last year, more if you’ve had your eyes glued to the TV for Dick Clark’s New Years Rockin’ Eve, wasting what’s left of it– counting backwards in cheerful anticipation of what is to come, only to lament what’s gone the moment the clock strikes twelve. Does this seem ironic to anyone else?
Ironic or not, the turn of the new year does have a natural way of inducing nostalgia. It offers a shining opportunity to think back upon where we were this time last year and what we’ve accomplished in the meantime. For me, this New Year’s in Thailand prompted my recollection of New Year’s 2010, and even more specifically Boxing Day 2009.
Though time and space have distanced us over the years, my high school friends always make the effort to gather together each year for a post-Christmas potluck. I have to hand it to my friend Ben– he is one of the greatest nomads I know, and doesn’t have a computer or cell phone to his name, but he deeply values his relationships and makes an unwavering effort to reach out no matter the distance. Thus, despite Facebook and Skype, and all the other mediums of technology that “bless” us with the capacity to stay in touch with the click of a mouse, it is my nomadic, technophobic (not really) friend that is the glue that holds us together, or at least the elastic band on the paddle ball board that keeps us bouncing back, year after year.
Post-Christmas Potluck 2008
On this particular Boxing Day potluck, we went around the table to share our resolutions for the coming new year. A few different factors came into play as I considered my goals for 2010. My cousin and housemate Elaine was diligently training for the Boston Marathon at the time and I had been going along for the ride (well, runs) up until then. Elaine had been inspired by another cousin, Meg, who ended up forging the way for the lot of us by running Boston ’09. I hadn’t really entertained the idea of running a marathon before Elaine started her training– I had never even ran in a 5 or 10k race before, nor had I gone further than 6 miles recreationally. But running alongside my cousin, chatting about our lives and playing air guitars at intersections, I was just at the brink of believing that this could be fun, and perhaps even attainable.
On a separate note, I was at the time in a place where I was feeling stressed and disheartened at work, and had experienced a recent heartbreak to boot. I was certainly happy with my life, but then again I am always happy with my life. I felt inert, and uninspired. Sitting around our potluck table, listening to a couple friends share stories about their recent travels in Nepal, I felt something stir in me that I had been trying to suppress. They say that the return from adventure brings with it an elixir that breeds new adventure. Maybe it was the Nepalese sweet tea they shared around the table, or maybe it was their faces glowing with excitement as they recapped their past three months, but this something inside of me, at that moment, took form.
I had thought about teaching overseas after finishing my master’s, (I had previously applied to work in Thailand, in fact) though I had been too scared to make the leap. But envy (and general discontent, for that matter) is the most worthless conceivable sentiment, I decided, and one I’d rather just delete from my emotional repository. If there is something that you want out of your life, and you have the means of attaining it, then you have to go for it. You can’t sit around waiting for happiness to show up on your doorstep, or watching others fulfill their dreams, patiently waiting for your turn to come along. Be your own happiness scout! I realize that this is perhaps a naive outlook– there are of course some wishes and yearnings that, given certain unfortunate circumstances, can never be fulfilled. But if your dreams are within your grasp, it is your responsibility to yourself, and to those who cannot, to grab them. This is what I believe now. Stories are meant to inspire, and instead of letting my friends’ stories wash over me, creating a lather of envy, I chose to drink the elixir. What right do I have to be jealous of someone else for having something I want if it is within my power to get it for myself? True and supreme happiness, for most people- the lucky ones, is a choice, but once you choose it you still need to work for it, and oftentimes you need to be willing to take a risk for it. This is what I decided in 2009. It is one of those things that you know you always knew, that you’ve heard people tell you your whole life, but to have the realization hit you with that kind of force leaves a hefty dent- a lasting impression. I decided, as the ball dropped on Dick Clark’s program, ushering in 2010, to channel Thoreau: Go forth boldly in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagine.
Long story short (come on- you wouldn’t be reading my blog right now if you couldn’t appreciate a lengthy story), I shared two resolutions with my post-Christmas dinner companions. In 2010, I would:
1) Run a marathon.
2) Travel. And not just travel, but travel to inspire more travel.
True to my promise, two-thousand ten saw my, Elaine, and Meg’s successful completion of our 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to Copley Square, followed by a 6-week adventure in Ecuador from which I returned with my own batch of elixir. And here I am now, 2012, and living in Thailand!
My resolution for this year is to become conversational in Thai. Yes, I’ve already begun pursuing this one, but between living and working in a developing country and learning a foreign language and script, I feel quite content with the number of goals I have to focus on at the moment. And, as with the marathon and the urge to make travel a significant part of my life, while I at one time did not believe I could do it, I am now confident I will succeed in this goal. I can read a bit of Thai now (mostly menus), and can pick out some familiar words and phrases when spoken to. I showed the new year the welcome it deserved by treating myself to a week and a half-long holiday down south, during which I put my Thai to work in fishermen villages on the underdeveloped island paradises Ko Muk and Ko Bulone.
On my last night in Ko Bulone I had what could almost be described as a “conversation” with one woman from the village. I approached her as she sat pounding her itch-ily fragrant chili peppers and garlic with a mortar and pestal to ask why the village– so lively and bustling two days before, had been empty the past two days. I couldn’t catch everything she said, heck, I couldn’t catch most of what she said, but I did manage to gather that the rest of the village had gone to the mainland to trade in the marketplace, and that she had four children– Lewie, Chewie, Sophia, and another daughter who for some reason or another was living on Ko Lipe at the time. She bagged up a fish head– the unwanted remains from the dinner she was cooking up for her family, and gave it to me, calling it bplaa mong (mong fish), and instructing me to cook it in a tom yum soup. Before I left, she also invited me to eat a meal with her the next day, though I had to regretfully decline as I was scheduled to leave the island the following morning.
fish head
Man, what a high! Granted, our conversation was extremely basic, and some of what I gathered was merely intuitive, but to be able to use my Thai to talk to this woman and to ask her about her family and community, as she pounded up chili and garlic in her seaside home… to be able to understand something of what she was saying to me was just incredible, and I walked away happily swinging my bag o’ fish-head by my side.
My friend and I brought the fish head to a nearby restaurant and asked if they’d make us a tom yum. When dinner arrived, sure enough there was my fish head, hacked up and floating in the soup. They didn’t even bother to try and get the bones or eyeballs out… probably because there was next to no meat in there anyways. I thought maybe they’d supplement my fish head with some more fish– perhaps some fish mid-drift or tail, but they basically just quartered the head and boiled it right up in the broth. I’m sure the waiter and chef had a good laugh about the farangs showing up with a bagged reject-fish head and asking them to turn it into soup. But this fish head was my badge of honor- a small token of friendship from this woman who I had “conversed” with in Thai, and I was determined to see that that fish head made it to my dinner plate. Bones, and scales, and eyeballs and all, it was the most satisfying meal I’ve tasted in Thailand.
I began writing this post on New Year’s Day, but I had to leave it to catch my ride to paradise. Well, I suppose it was still New Year’s Eve for all of you in the States. Then again, it is still only 2012 for you all back home, whereas I am writing to you from the year 2555– year “zero” on the Thai’s calendar marking the death of Buddha. So, how does it feel to be reading a blog entry from the future? I guess this post would be more relevant had I actually finished it and posted it on New Years… at the very least sooner than 14 January 2555, but then again, living in Thailand right now means setting aside the nostalgia and the anticipation and living for the moment, and at the moment, the islands were calling my name 🙂
Indeed, no Auld Lang Syne was sung this year– I’ll leave you with the song and dance I used to welcome in 2555 at the Sa-Nguan Ying School faculty New Year’s party. Please keep your judgement to a minimum… we were informed the day before the party that we were expected to perform a dance, and we were taught the choreography in twenty minutes on the day of the big show. Happy New Year and enjoy!
(also, please take note of the small and fearless fairy princess running to and fro and around the stage)
Chronicles of a Travel-Bug 