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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. 🙂
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.
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.
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?
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!
If you were to ask me to name one quality that teaching has honed in me, I think I’d go with “adaptability.”
People are unpredictable, the adolescent breed even more so, and in a room full of twenty-odd unpredictable, hormonal teenagers, your lessons are never going to come to life in exactly the tidy procedure that you mapped out. You learn to adjust. To expect the unexpected.
One quality that living in Thailand promotes?
Same answer: Rolling with the punches, going with the flow. Expecting the unexpected, and remaining jai yen. As a teacher, this is something you work at. You begin to plan for the unexpected. You learn who each of the precious little gremlins in front of you is and you try to develop strategies to cope with their different learning styles and shenanigans. As a farang teacher in Thailand, adaptability isn’t just a skill, it is a way of life.
As with teaching, travel in Thailand requires you to be patient, flexible, and easy going.
How many hours I’ve sat idle on a bus– watching the rice paddies and concrete cities and 7-11′s zoom by… I couldn’t begin to guess.
You get dropped and abandoned at the side of the road at 4:00 in the morning in a torrential downpour, the driver assuring you that your ride to island paradise will arrive shortly. Bed bugs share your guesthouse with you. Maybe you find yourself up north in the Golden Triangle, playing the role of “midwife” to a mama pig in labor. Or, you finish your “tofu” dinner only to learn it was actually congealed blood. You’re carted along with your tuk-tuk chauffeur as he detours to the market to procure a raw fish, haphazardly flopping it down on the seat beside you. I wish I could claim ownership of all of these stories (especially the piglet-birthing) but they belong to my friends as well. There is no avoiding it for any of us. In a developing country where we don’t know the language, we’re often at the mercy of strangers and strange circumstances. Hilarity, frustrations, and unpredictable absurdities ensue.
And it is no different in school. Well, that’s a lie… there are no baby pigs here. If only. But my efforts to remain zen when I am totally clueless stay the same. Having taught in a pretty unstable urban public school district in Massachusetts, I am no stranger to the unexpected. But, while my well-mannered Thai pupils present fewer challenges in classroom management, the language barrier and my own Western schooling/ teacher’s training render an entirely different need for adaptation.
At the moment, I’m sitting in the school office with my fellow farang teachers, half an hour into the school day, and it’s occurred to us that none of the Thai faculty are here. None of us know where our co-workers are, but we’re not all that concerned. As foreign teachers we’re used to going about our usual business until it becomes clear we need to pivot.
We’re nearing the end of the semester, and right now our students are studying for their Thai exams. Again, we’re along for the ride. I was told that exams are Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, while another English teacher heard Monday and Friday. Will I be teaching at all next week? I dunno. Will I find out before I am supposed to be in the classroom? Not likely. Is this frustrating? Yes. But, I’ve learned to accept that I’ll never understand what’s going on in this country until it’s already happening to me. Timely information is not to be trusted– it always changes, anyway.
My boss said it yesterday as he informed us we’d be audited today… “I just found out ten minutes ago. But, this is Thailand!” in line with the nationwide “mai bpen rai” philosophy– a Renaissance-man of a phrase, meaning “You’re welcome,” “No problem,” ‘Nevermind,” “Fahget about it,” and “Hakuna matata,” Thai culture embodies the Buddhist Middle Way principle of emotional-moderation. You’re encouraged to remain calm and relaxed and just go with the flow.
As with our many travel misadventures, living in the dark makes each school day a little more exciting. Like when I signed up, perhaps against my better judgement, to participate in the school Sports Day Fun Run. One person told me that the run started at 8:30 am, someone else said 9:30 am. Yet another source told me 3 pm.
So, not knowing when it would begin, I arrived at school dressed in my usual teaching attire– my sneakers and oh-so-official racing outfit packed in my L.L.Bean backpack. I was busy planning a finals review game when I heard the horn sound, marking the start of the race. I hurdled over some desks, long-jump-ed my way into the bathroom, and changed into my running clothes in record time. I sprinted down four flights of stairs and by the time I finally arrived at the starting line, everyone had already left, and I was already winded.
But the man with the megaphone shouted at me to “Chase after! Chase after!” So, I chased after. I chased the entire Sa-Nguan Ying student body down the street until I caught up and joined the run. (But this is where Thailand and America become same same: I caught up to them within minutes because the kids had all started walking the second they were a block beyond the school gates.)
In a profession that is unpredictable to its core, in a country where the popular belief is just to roll with it, I never really know what’s going on. As a participant in a foreign culture, I think there is not much more I can or should do but accept and adapt.
Sometimes adaptation does become more of a challenge, though. As the school year comes to a close, I’ve found myself struggling with some of the expectations for assigning marks here. I can’t say that I am proud to have set aside some of the professional ethics I have internalized as a teacher in the States, but as a guest in this country and institution, I don’t think it’s my place to judge or try to change the system. So, right or wrong, frustrations aside, I’m just gonna keep going with the flow.
I said that I’d take a break from contemplative posts. Well, true to my word, I think that this is about as far from contemplation as you can get… and I do mean that in the physical sense.
Warning: not for the faint of heart, or stomach. If you just ate, do not read this blog. If you are easily nauseated, don’t read this blog. If you wish to have another pleasant thought for the rest of the day, do not read this blog. Honestly people, what little dignity I have left is about to go down the shitter.
This is a little ditty about something we call the “squatter toilet.”
In Thai public restrooms, you’ve got about a 50/50 shot of landing a seater or a squatter. What is a squatter, you ask? Basically, it is a porcelain hole in the ground upon which you stand and literally squat while you take care of business. Luxury travel is a different story. If you can afford nice hotels, nice restaurants… if you stick to places that keep it clean, comfortable, and Western, you might be able to manage a couple weeks’ stay in Thailand with few to no encounters with squatters. But, if you are a budget traveler- forget it. Embrace it (figuratively of course)! Because squatter toilets are here to stay.
During my first week in Thailand, I managed to avoid squatters the entire time. It wasn’t purposeful avoidance, but I moved from one niceish, three-star hotel in Bangkok to some even nicer digs in Pattaya when my orientation group was evacuated from the city to escape the flood waters. I never happened upon one. It wasn’t until my second night in Suphanburi that my luck turned around. Cafe Art, a favorite Suphan hotspot, offered a pleasant lead-in to the world of squatters. Surrounded by soothing grey-blue walls, a pebble-covered floor, soft-lighting and the tintinntabulating sound of the faucet trickling into the toilet-side water bucket… the experience felt akin to relieving myself in a Zen garden.
[That water-bucket is not merely meant for ambiance, however. Oh, no. It serves the dual purpose in all Thai bathrooms of a sort of manual-flush. Once you’ve finished making your deposit, you have to scoop a bucket-full of water (or two, or three, or four… depending on said “deposit”) and dump it into the hole to incite the disappearing act.]
A few days after this first “go” a discussion ensued among my friends (only natural in such a mix of squatter novices and pros) that made me realize I had been doing it wrong all along! First line about to be crossed: I am a hoverer. Even with seater toilets. If it is a public restroom- be it Thailand or in the States- I refuse to sit unless in dire circumstances, like stomach cramps. I assumed that they were called “squatters” simply because of how much lower you had to go to hover. Blew my mind to learn that I had to stand on the thing. It also turns out that you’re supposed to face the wall. Now, this may seem obvious to any men out there– you guys are used to facing the wall. But for us women, this is new and uncharted territory. Never in my life had I gone to the toilet while facing the wall, and I never dreamed that I would. Just goes to show you the kinds of great new experiences traveling can create. Mind. Blown. Again.
Since these first few couple of weeks, I’d mostly gotten used to the “squatter” thing, though a trip to the hospital back in November did throw me for a loop. My teacher buds Kaitlin and Megan and I took a field trip to the Suphanburi Hospital together– a necessary step in obtaining our work permits. The hospital waiting room was crawling with people, and while we waited for our turns to complete our chest X-rays and urine samples (you know, to check us for meth and syphilis), we were instructed to administer our own blood pressure tests and check our own weights. When it came time for the urine sample, we were given plastic cups and pointed toward the bathroom. And what did we find? You guessed it– stalls of squatter toilets. The hospital bathroom was filthy. And it was quite a strange experience to pee in a cup over a squatter toilet and then walk back town the hall, holding my own cup, to deliver it to the nurse in reception. I’m just glad I didn’t trip.
In our hospital robes, posing in front of the flood-prevention sandbags
I must say, though, unsanitary though it may seem, the squatter toilet in the hospital makes a lot of sense. My shoes touched the same surface that some other presumably sick person’s shoes touched before me, but that was the worst of it. From the perspective of a “hoverer,” that isn’t so bad.
So, yes. For better or for worse, this is the squatter toilet. If only I could end this story right here. But, alas, I haven’t entirely mortified myself yet. The story goes on, and if you decide not to be my friend anymore after reading, I will understand.
The lack of toilet paper is yet another point about Thai bathrooms that takes some getting used to. Then, there is the issue that so many travelers face in whatever country they may be visiting, due to changes in diet and the water. The issue that I speak of, of course, is diarrhea. There- I said it. Crossed the second line. And I’m about to put about a mile more between this line and me. In my defense, this is one of the inevitabilities of foreign travel. A friend of mine here recently had to poop in the crystal clear waters of the Phi-Phi islands (ironic, no?) during a snorkeling venture, surrounded by a boat-load of friends. I know nothing can make this okay, but I am just trying to give you an honest recounting! Like I said before, it isn’t all baby tigers and fish heads. Things can get pretty shitty, too.
Imagine, if you dare, that you ask permission of a friendly Thai islander and restaurant owner to use the bathroom, and that you grab yourself a tissue before you head in. Imagine, now, that you use the squatter, and toss said tissue away, and begin to exit the bathroom only to be suddenly overcome with a feeling that you know will later require Imodium. So, you climb back on the squatter. Aim is of the utmost importance in this situation, but also rather difficult due to the height in squat-position. And time, it turns out, is of the essence. So, you miss. But there is no tissue, and you can’t very well leave the poor unsuspecting Thai folk to take care of the situation. You have very few options.
I had to scoop. And then toss. Scoop, and toss, and scoop, and toss, and then dilute what remained by throwing the water from the flush-bucket all over the floor. I am sorry! I know you didn’t really want to know this, but I kind of think that some stories, embarrassing and disgusting though they may be, just shouldn’t be kept to yourself. Or should they? Either way, you can’t say that I didn’t warn you. Oh, the joys of travel! I practically bathed in Purell for the full next week.
This has gone too far. I’m cutting myself off from contemplative journal entries for a while. After this.
I think that I’ve overcome the worst of my shlump, and that is in a large part thanks to the the positive energy so many have sent my way. It was a jarring attitude shift- to feel so suddenly exhausted. I am so often overcome with a deep sigh of gratitude here; a feeling of being so insanely and unfairly lucky to be here. It was easy to berate myself for feeling down because, honestly, I am living in Thailand, man! Why should I be anything but enthused? But, the truth is, it is natural to have your ups and downs, no matter how lucky you are, and I am thankful for the words of empathy and encouragement and insight that have reminded me of that.
Meandering around TESCO Lotus last week, having basket-ed all of the items on my shopping list, I started wondering if the exhaustion would be permanent… if I would ever regain that same sense of awe and gratitude that I felt during “the honeymoon.” But it occurred to me then that that is up to me. It’s okay to be with my emotion and ride it out for a while– necessary, even– but it is also within my control whether I choose to dwell on it or move forward. So, that’s what I’ve done. I took a small break from studying Thai and I treated myself to a nice and relaxing Suphan weekend, involving yoga with friends,a riverside wander, and a less-than effective Thai massage performed by a woman smaller than my pinky finger. Still, I’ve readjusted my attitude and recharged my battery and I’m feeling okay.
Among other lovely folks who reached out to me after having read my emo blog post was a friend who I met in Ecuador, Jenna. She closed her email, asserting that “We travel, not to be happy all the time, or even satisfied, but to really, truly live. And at least what you’re feeling now means that you’re about a million times more alive than you would have been if you had stayed behind.” These small words of wisdom reminded me of Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet, as he speaks about joy and sorrow:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Jenna and Khalil have it right, I think. The potential that something has to bring you happiness is directly proportionate to its capacity to upset you. A place that can overwhelm me with excitement can also knock me right out with exhaustion, in the same way that the thing that brings the most laughter can cause the most tears. But we have to go after these things. We have to be willing to take the risk, because, as Jenna said, that’s what living is about. And, if you are like me, you believe that you only get one shot.
The greater the risk, the deeper the gain, the greater the journey.
More fun entries soon. Peace!
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.
In case I haven’t sold you yet on Som Tam Sawng Nuu, I want to give you a quick run-down of the Isan food highlights. Truth be told, some of this was originally part of my last blog entry, but I know that my stories can get a little *ahem* long-winded every now and then, so I decided to spare you for once and break the entry up into more manageable bites (pun entirely intended). So, if my first post about Som Tam Sawng Nuu left you hungry (yup, still intended) for more, here’s a second helping 🙂
STICKY RICE:
Let’s begin with the basics. When I am dining in the States, the bread basket is the seductress that temps me into culinary adultery. I may have made a date with a beautiful, pink and juicy filet mignon (and let’s face it, a hot dish like that will always take longer getting ready), and I swear my intentions are sincere. But once that warm, aromatic bread basket is placed in front of me, I’m a goner. “Just a half a roll to curb my appetite” turns into a full helping of bread, turns into two helpings, and I turn into a two-timing food philanderer.
I know I am not the only American who turns into a raging cheater every time the bread basket comes around… you know you do it too. Well, my friends, sticky rice is to Thailand as the bread basket is to America. How carbs are so comforting and irresistible, I will never understand. They just have this way about them.
Like I said in my last post, Som Tam Sawng Nuu specializes in Isan food– food from the northeast region of Thailand. One of the best things about Isan food is that sticky rice, kaao niaw, is a staple. I eat rice in Thailand everyday– steamed rice, fried rice, occasionally some rice porridge… but sticky rice is a whole different animal (well… you know what I mean). It is a long grain rice and cooked to the perfect al dente so that you can pick it up in a big clump with your fingers and mold it into a lovely little ball o’ carbs to dip into all kinds of goodness. Last week I went out to eat at Som Tam with some co-workers and was surprised to see some of the women NOT indulging in the sticky rice. Turns out Thai women are not so different from American women– avoiding the carbs to maintain their dainty figures. I know I need to learn some self-control myself, but I am too easily seduced to call things off with sticky rice.
STICKY RICE
SOM TAM:
Spicy papaya salad. The namesake of the outfit in question. Choosing a favorite food in a country so rich in flavor is a tall order, but it is with little hesitation that I say som tam, and more specifically Dton’s som tam, has stolen my heart and taste-buds to boot. Som Tam Thai, the traditional version, includes shredded, unripe green papaya, long beans, tomatoes, chili peppers, peanuts, lime juice, sugar, fish sauce, (and probably plenty of other indispensable, albeit undetectable, ingredients). In the case of Sawng Nuu, sweet and delicious tamarind is added, freshly ground that morning. The makings are all mixed and pounded [not quite] to a pulp with a mortar and pestle, and are of course served with sticky rice to soak up the spicy, sweet, and sour juices. The juice is so delicious, in fact, that once the table’s supply of sticky rice has run out, I start slurping up the juice straight from my spoon (I care very little about table manners here in Thailand). I shamefully await the day when I will pour the remaining juices straight from the plate into my mouth… it is only a matter of time.
There are many derivatives of the classic som tam. Dton’s restaurant offers a refreshing cucumber som tam, a green mango som tam, a fruit salad-esque som tam, som tam with crab or shrimp… and a few related dishes that we farangs never care to brave, such as the “stinky fish,” “salty egg,” and the bug-infested varieties. I’ve tried the cucumber, mango, fruit salad, and crab and they are lovely, to be sure, but I am a som tam purist all the way.
SOM TAM THAI
NUA (and muu) DAET DIAO:
Daet diao is the ultimate bar snack. Sun-dried beef (nua) or pork (muu) that is salted and fried, served with Thai sweet chili sauce. It is tough and chewy and salty and delicious and so unhealthy, I know, but I’ve adopted a theory here that if I never step on scales in Thailand, anyways, then calories and fat don’t exist. Regardless, this stuff is worth it. The nua is my favorite.
Walking around the daytime markets, daet diao might turn a germ-o-phobe farang’s stomach. You see the meat laid out on straw baskets on the side of the road for hours in the sunshine, collecting flies and other bugs I’m sure. It is a pretty disagreeable sight, but, again, it is just too good to pass up. And, as we decided over dinner last night, while this may not get a stamp of approval from any health inspector in the United States, there are plenty of unhealthy preservatives and hormones that we feed our bodies everyday. Thailand might serve daet diao that was once a “meating” ground for bugs, but maybe this is still better than some of what we eat in the U.S. Maybe?
NUA DAET DIAO
PLAA SAAM ROT:
A beautiful, golden brown fried red snapper that is crunchy on the outside, soft and succulent on the inside, and drenched with a delightfully sweet tamarind sauce. It is called “Three flavor fish,” and I’m not really quite sure what those other two flavors are except to say 1) mouth-watering and 2) divine. And, as always, the Saam Rot sauce makes the perfect companion for that ever-seductive sticky rice.
PLAA SAAM ROT
Are you convinced yet? There are many other delicious dishes at Som Tam Sawng Nuu but these are the tops. I am curious to go to a Thai restaurant in the states and see how well-represented some of this food is, or if they have it at all. I’ve definitely seen spicy papaya salad on menus in the U.S. but I had never ordered it before. Your homework: go to a Thai restaurant, try to order one of these dishes, and report back. At the very least, maybe you can get your hands on some sticky rice!
destruction.
Chronicles of a Travel-Bug 