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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)
I speak the Thai language a little.
And I can say some things that don’t have to do with food. 🙂 I can answer some common questions that the ever-curious Thai people ask in passing, such as “Where are you going?” “Have you eaten yet?” and “Do you have a boyfriend?” I can identify a slew of office supplies. I can even differentiate between a pen and a wrist watch (nii naa-li-gaa ruu bpaak-gaa: Is this a watch or a pen?)! We’re talking really critical stuff here. You can imagine how meaningful my “conversations” are.
But, meaning is the goal.
Before coming to Thailand, I did not plan to shoot for any manner of expertise in the Thai language. Enough basic Thai to get by in the day-to-day, of course, but I didn’t see myself accomplishing much more than that. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the value in learning a new language– fluency in Spanish is a long-term goal of mine. But, to be completely honest, there isn’t really much of a world market for Thai. Where, and when, on Earth would I ever need Thai if not right here and now, in Thailand? How would knowing Thai, of all languages, be of any benefit to my life? Spanish, well that makes sense. Upwards of 40 million people in the U.S. speak Spanish, and we all know that it’s a hot ticket item on a resume. But Thai? Not really. And add to that that Thai looks like this: จะทำได้อย่างไรฉันอ่านเรื่องนี้, and has sounds and tones that my poor, clumsy native-English tongue had never once had to summon… the intimidation factor hits the top of the thermometer on the clap-o-meter.
I think that this is what my apathy really came down to– intimidation. Looking at that Thai script, thinking about those rising and falling, high, low, and mid-tones, Thai seemed so far beyond my reach… and maybe not worth the “Go-Go Gadget arm!” button. Better not to set myself up for failure.
But here I am, in Thailand, and it occurs to me that I didn’t uproot my life and fly halfway around the world for easy-breezey stagnancy. I am here to feed my spirit, my khwan, but also to challenge and push myself in ways that I haven’t before. I don’t want to just be a tourist in this country– putting in my time on the weekdays, then gallivanting off to this city or that beach or those monkeys to snap a few pictures and say I’ve seen Thailand. I want to develop new roots while I am here in Suphan, and I want to be able to connect in a real and meaningful way with the Thai people whose paths I cross on this journey. Something beyond where am I going, and have I eaten yet, and do I have a boyfriend.
And now, I think can do it. I have a long way to go, to be certain, but I am inspired by my friends here in Suphan who have learned to speak Thai, and I’ve gotten over being intimidated. Thai grammar is actually super basic… it is really just the pronunciation that tricks you up. I could go to the market in search of a T-shirt, but end up asking for a tiger instead. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked a student “omelette?” (khai jiaw) instead of “do you understand?” (khow jai), but I just laugh, mai bpen rai it, and move on.
I am SO eager to learn Thai and to, someday, be able to really connect with this kingdom and her people in a meaningful way. I feel like I made some progress this past weekend when my friend Megan and I went to Khao Yai National Park. In between gibbon-spotting and tree-climbing, we enjoyed probing our guide, guesthouse staff, and fellow travelers on the names of animals, clothing, dog shit, and whatever else sparked our interests along the way. My conversations with these people were still very basic mixes of Thai and English (Tinglish), but the Thai people are so very appreciative of a farang’s efforts with their language that you can’t help but feel satisfied with yourself for trying. They find it narak maak (very lovely/ sweet), and for now, even that makes our small interactions meaningful.
Maybe learning Thai won’t give my resume a boost, maybe it won’t serve me at all in the future, but I am here in Thailand to seize the day, and the here and now is important. Not everything has to be part of a grand plan. Not everything has to be a means to another end. In a way, I think that this makes Thai an even more worthwhile pursuit. It is for me, and for my own growth, and a way to connect to a culture, and to bring as much meaning to this experience as I possibly can.
Chan bpen noc-rian paa-saa tai.
On my second night in Suphanburi, myself and the five other new foreign teachers at Sa-Nguanying School went to dinner with our new friend Clare at “the restaurant near Nasa Mall, as we have come to call it. Clare is a cool 22 year old Aussie chick who visited Sa-Nguan Ying on high school exchange years ago and, upon completing university, returned from her home in Tasmania to teach for a year at the same school she had once attended as a student. Now that Clare and an American teacher, Ally, have been here for a while (6 months and two years respectively), they’ve graciously taken the lot of us under their wings to show us the ins-and-outs of Suphan and all of their favorite hot spots.
Our first night in Suphan was a wash after the one and a half hour ride from Bangkok turned into a tolerable three and quickly from three into a painful five plus. Still, I shouldn’t complain. Five hours was nothing compared to the 14 that some of our fellow teachers in other parts of the country had to endure to bypass the flooding. And so, on our second night in town, Clare took us out to a celebratory feast at the restaurant near Nasa Mall.
And man, does Suphanburi know how to do food! Clare asked if we’d be bothered if she ordered on behalf of the table, and we all eagerly obliged her with the responsibility; the bunch of us having spent the past week wandering up to random Bangkok food vendors and motioning uncertainly for “neung” (one) of whatever they were dishing out to the locals. When our food arrived, our table was transformed into heaven. Chicken in a creamy red curry sauce, Thai cashew chicken, and a completely unreal fried catfish called yum plaa dook fuu. A week later, I still dream about this catfish, and am entirely perplexed by how it is made. I’ve settled on the belief that it was conjured by some culinary magician at the restaurant near Nasa Mall, because the only way I can think to describe its taste and texture would be to ask you to imagine eating a deep-fried cloud.
We all tucked in and enjoyed our Thai feast, passing around the plates in true Thai style, tasting a bit of this and a bit of that. I went back in for seconds on the cloud, of course. Partway through our painfully long van ride from Bangkok, we had broke bread with our school coordinators in the same fashion, and each time our posse of foreign teachers has gone to dinner (dinners out in Thailand costing about 3 USD a head including beverages, mind you) its been the same. It’s great because I usually want to try everybody’s everything anyways. And all along, dinner becomes a Thai lesson. We ask Ally and Clare what to call this? How do I ask for that? Pointing all around the table and prompting our new friends/ walking dictionaries to identify everything that we think we might want to order for ourselves later on. It makes for a delicious little study session!
Thai is a tough language, and the experience of learning it is worlds apart from my experiences with Spanish. Everything is different. It contains 44 consonants and 5 phonemic tones: mid, low, falling, high, and rising. The real trick is the tones. Once I finally commit a word to memory, I might repeat it ten times and a Thai person still will not understand me because my voice rose when it was supposed to fall. The word “suay,” for example. If you pronounce it with a rising pitch on the “ay,” it means beautiful. If you say it at mid-tone it means ugly or unfortunate. Similarly, a famous Thai tongue twister “mai – mai – mai – mai- mai” (high – low – falling – falling – high) translates to “new wood doesn’t burn, does it?” And I’ve been warned that the Thai word for banana is easily mistaken for the word for male genitalia, and a Westerner would do best to avoid saying it altogether.
Small bites. Little family style tapas. Before coming here, I felt no urgency to learn the language. I practiced on Rosetta Stone a bit, but I never really committed and I didn’t get much further than learning some animals and a few prepositional phrases. Now that I am here in Suphan where the only English speakers are the farangs (foreigners), I am overwhelmed. I want so badly to be able to communicate like Clare or Ally, but I know I need to start small. And so, I am starting with food. What better motivation for a girl who loves to eat? I carry my little leather “nomad” journal around with me everywhere I go and write down the meanings of everything delicious… everything aroi maak. I still can’t ask for a toilet plunger, as would have been useful the other day when I was playing charades at the reception desk of my apartment building, but I can eat plenty. It is amazing how fun and… ahem… digestible a new language becomes when you know your efforts will be rewarded with delicious cloud-like goodness.
Chronicles of a Travel-Bug 