Rolling with the punches

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.

Squatter Toilets and Pooper Scoopers

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.

(c) http://alaninnepal.wordpress.com

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.

Thanks :)

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!

Trouble in Paradise

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.

Your First Thai Lesson

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!

Potluck Dinners and Fish Head Soup

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)

Back for Seconds

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.

Love and Papaya Salad

Ally, posing as "an American" for my "nationalities" slideshow

Allow me to introduce you to Allyson Hauss.  I’ve mentioned her before, but consider this your formal meeting.  Ally is another teacher from the States, working in the Sa-Nguan Ying English Program.  She came to Suphan just over 2 years ago, shortly after graduating college, through the same agency that found me my teaching position.  One day, while studying Thai, she met a young Thai lad who offered to help her.  As Ally’s Thai vocabulary grew, so did their love for each other.  She has been living in Thailand, teaching at SYEP, dating Dton, and helping out his family by serving tables at their restaurant ever since.

Moral of the story: Ally (or her Thailand story, rather) is my parents’ worst nightmare.

Last night Ally called our ever- trusty and reliable “Uncle Tuk-Tuk” and my Suphan friends and I piled in to head out to dinner at Dton’s restaurant.  Som Tam Sawng Nuu (Two Young Mens’ Spicy Papaya Salad) is located just a bit outside of muang Suphanburi, so it is a painless 10-20 baht tuk-tuk ride to satisfy our weekly som tam cravings.  They specialize in Isan fare– food from Northeastern Thailand– and though I have yet to make my way to this more uncharted region of the kingdom, rumor has it that Dton’s food can easily compete with the lot of it.  It is without a doubt the best food I’ve tasted in all of my Thailand travels.

Megan and SOM TAM!

Beyond their many delicious dishes that keep us coming back for more, I love visiting the restaurant becuase it feels like home away from home.  I have only been in Thailand for two months, and when I try to communicate with Dton’s family, my Tinglish is no better than with any other Thai folk (perhaps Tingrades would be a better term… Thai-English-Charades).  But still, their friendly smiles light up each time we pull up in Uncle T’s chariot, and that alone feels like home.

Dton will sit down with us while we eat for a mini Thai lesson and to assign homework (I had to learn the days of the week for yesterday).  Baby Aut is always running around like he owns the place.  Dirty as he is, his smile and laughter and giant head charm us all.  The restaurant is his playground, his kingdom, and we are all but his doting subjects.  And Dton’s mother has a nickname for me– “Gii-ka-Poo,” referring to a supposedly Thai phenomenon that says when you drink too much soda, the bubbles all rise to your head and your hair goes “POOF!”  That is how my hair got this way- didn’t you know?

Aut!

Aut!

Aut!

On Thanksgiving Dton’s family welcomed us to their restaurant for a feast of American fare.  And by welcomed us, I mean they let us completely take over.  Turkey is hard to come by in Thailand, and ovens even harder, so instead of the traditional feast it was burgers and pasta salad on this Thanksgiving Day.  Dton’s brother helped us to hack up filets of beef, garlic, and onions into home-ground hamburg meat (ground beef= another thing you can’t find here), as we chopped veggies for our make-shift pasta salad with the help of his mom and various other relations.  Then, Dton’s pa grilled our burgers for us as karaoke was set-up and the song-and-dance party commenced.  And last night, I “helped” Dton in the kitchen.  It was an interactive vocabulary lesson, really, as I squished my hands into a bowl of raw chicken wing-tips and some floury liquid concoction to prepare it for the frying pan.

burgers from scratch

Preparing our "Thanksgiving" feast with the help of Dton's family

Today, it is only four days until Christmas, and as thrilled as I am to be living in Thailand and having this incredible and challenging and eye-opening experience, I miss my family terribly.  I received a package from home last night, and was moved to tears to find in it photo copies of all of the letters that Santa wrote my four siblings and I from my first Christmas, on (Santa keeps threatening to retire but that big old softy keeps coming back with more!).  It was the most wonderful gift I could have ever hoped to receive so far from home, but it made me miss my family sorely.  As always, Som Tam Sawng Nuu was right there when I needed it.  There is no substitution for my own family, but just to be around a family made me feel a little closer to home.  I wish more than anything to be able to hug my parents this holiday.  At heart I am always their Christie Bug, but for now I will be grateful for the journey that I am on, and settle for Gii-ka-Poo.

Ode to the Pineapple

You, sapero,
are a god
among fruits.
Each day
I walk
anxiously
home from school
waiting for
the moment.
The moment
when I will know
once
and for all
if my dreams
of sweet
tangy
piquant
juices
will come
to true
fruition.
Your
heavy armored
clothes,
your
treasure troll
haircut,
disguising your

sunshine

yellow,

sweet innocence,

and coy,

exotic edge.

.

Oh,
beloved Fruit
Lady!
She who

wears

the red

and white

striped

sun bonnet!

She who

serves me

pineapple

from her

motorbike

ice box!

She, who,

for a mere

twenty baht

will hew

divinity

and present

it to me

in

a plastic bag!

.

Sapero,

my
tongue
always misses you,
always

remembers.
Your tart juices
leave it parched
wanting more.

.

.

(Inspired by Pablo Neruda’s Ode to the Apple, pg 99, and by the Fruit Lady)

Sapero topped with sugar, salt, chili blend. SO GOOD!

Chan phuut paa-saa tai nit-noi :)

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.