Just the other day I was walking through one of my 18 classrooms and it hit me... "Holy c****, I'm teaching in Thailand!" Once you get settled into something, it quickly becomes un-exotic, and even unexciting, but here I am, teaching in a small town in Southeast Asia; teaching in classrooms where every head of hair is black, every pair of eyes is brown, and nobody speaks English worth a lick.
I suppose one of the first things that I have learned, and perhaps the most important, is that kids are kids no matter where you go. There are many many many more prescriptions of respect that students must follow here. Some of the more interesting include: 1. when students come up to me to show me a finished piece of work or to ask a question they come on their knees, or scoot along the floor. Keeping their head lower than mine is a sign of respect.
2. Whenever I hand them anything, before they touch it they must "wai." Bring their hands together as if in prayer, and bow with their thumbs on their forehead. They must also wai to me in the hall... although my white skin makes running up and yelling "shake hand" just as viable...
Which leads me to my point. Sure, they do those things. They bow and scuttle around beneath me like peons, but once they're back in their seats they're just like a bunch of American kids, if not worse. Yelling, getting out of their seats, passing notes, rulers, books, pictures, phones, you name it. Thai teachers are much less persnickety about classroom behavior than Americans. Much much less.
In a way, they have to be. Each class has 40-50 students. There are six classes in each grade (which gives me, a teacher for 3 grades, roughly 800 students). The classes range from X/1, the cream of the crop, to x/6, which any number of adjectives can apply to. X/1 is fairly manageable, after that, it's a mixed bag. My 5/6 class is my favorite. For some reason, those kids love me and I love them. I can tell (by the way their desks are moved and isolated and from other signs of punishment) that they're not an inherently well behaved group, but for some reason we get along swimmingly. 4/6, on the other hand, makes me want to die.
It's strange to me, in the states, 4th grade is my favorite. Here, I seem to be powerless against them, they are my kryptonite. Of course, I have the bulk of the 4th grade classes on a Friday, which says volumes on its own... 4/6, by the way, is the last class of the day on Friday.
My favorite lesson so far, the culmination of my work here, has been a game I call "the dance of death." It began as the riveting game of "stand up, sit down." Students had to listen to me say stand up, or sit down, and do so accordingly. After getting them in the habit of standing up and sitting down one after the other, I would repeat a command twice and a handful of students would do the wrong thing, and everyone had great fun with it. Of course with 18 classes a week I got tired of it quickly.
From there I taught them body parts and other actions/verbs (raise, lower, touch, open, close) and the game grew exponentially. I started them off easy, and got more difficult. If a student messed up, it was time for the "dance of death." I, quite dramatically, say "maaahhhneeeee" 'come here,' cackling, or wringing my hands, or dancing with glee, as they reluctantly come to the front of the room. Then, I give them instructions one by one. "Raise your hands" "clap" "Turn" "Jump" and so forth, until their doing a very ridiculous combination of movements and giggling uncontrollably. Everyone applauds the dancer, and listens very carefully from that point onward.
Now I've added a new element since most kids should know most of the commands. I have everyone stand and I point to one student with a command: "jump" "turn" "clap" etc. If they don't do it, they come to the front of the room and repeat that command over and over. Eventually, I have a line of students: one jumping, one clapping, one turning, one looking up, one looking down, and so on. We, as a class, say each action out loud as I point to the growing line.
This works even with the fourth graders (although more than 10 minutes of it turns them into animals), and is by far my most popular event. Everyone tries to finish their work quickly so that we can "play game..." "dance of death" is a bit beyond their understanding at this point...
Outside the classroom things are extraordinarily different. Leaving students unattended doesn't raise the slightest eyebrow here. As I have no transfer time between classes, I often walk into rooms of unsupervised students yelling and walking on chairs (which are always falling apart), going wherever they please, and otherwise doing things students do when they are unsupervised.
Coming from Southside, which locked itself up like Fort Knox during its construction period, to Anubanwatnongkunchad was quite a culture shock. Nongkunchad is also building it's own brand new building, smack dab in the center of the courtyard. No fences, no eyes making sure students stay clear, nothing. I've seen welding sparks fly and land a few feet from where kids were playing. Scrap wood built into bonfires for disposal a stones throw from kindergartners. Heavy machinery? Construction workers? Obviously, the kids know better than to get hurt...
In the mornings, there is no quiet orderly procession to the classroom. Students wander into campus and do as they please until morning assembly (which almost always includes buying ice cream sold at the school snack store). There is a marching band (shockingly good for 6th graders) that approaches just before the assembly, and I've seen kindergartners running around, dancing, laying on the floor and kicking their feet in the air, to the throng.
The morning assembly is long and terrible. We all stand outside, facing the flag. Listen to the band play the anthem as the flag is raised, pray, and then listen to a litany of speeches and announcements I do not understand and nobody pays attention to. Thai's don't seem to care if people are listening to speeches, nor do they feel inclined to respect a speaker with silence. I've seen a great many assemblies (especially at schools) where someone is talking into a microphone and may as well not be there as they audience chats and does as they please, totally oblivious to the oratory.
After that, the day starts as usual. I have 18 classes a week, one hour a piece, so it gives me a lot of time for planning and grading. Planning isn't so bad since I only see a given class once a week and generally the same subject matter is taught with modifications for ability, although the week gets repetitive quickly. Grading is terrible. I have given 3 written assignments and the 3rd may be my last. 800 papers is a lot to grade.
My latest tactic is to give a participation grade... Rather than grading the paper itself, I walk around the classroom and make sure everyone is engaged in the task. So long as they are, they get a good grade.
Accurate testing is a farce here. When I tried to enforce a no-copy rule, the students looked at me like I was clinically insane. Completion of every assignment occurs in the same way past x/2: 3-5 students try and the assignment gets completed in an expanding pattern radiating from those 3-5. But, it's Thailand... "MaiPenRai" "Nevermind, don't worry"
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Loi Kratong
So, a week after the food festival there is another festival called Loi Kratong. It takes place on the first full moon of the lunar calendar and in my little town it is an excuse to have a great big party. Somran, one of the Thai teachers at my school who has become a great friend, became my personal tour guide through the events, and even conspired to get me into the parade through town. But I'm getting a head of myself.
As I walked through the morning market (ah yes, I found a new market in town. Not only is there a night market, a Monday and Thursday market, and a weekend market, but there is also a morning market where you can get everything you would ever want in the way of food preparation). So, I was walking through the morning market, and saws dozens of cute little banana boats with flowers, candles, and incense stuck into them every which way. I didn't know too much about the festival yet, but eventually decided to purchase one and have on my desk throughout the day until I knew what to do with it.
At that, Somran saw it and invited me to meet him that night to learn how to make my own, I happily accepted and went out side for the morning announcements which were, I found out, to be more than usual. Every child in the school had a boat and after announcements they walked them to the temple, all 1750 of them, to be blessed by the monks there.
After that, school proceeded as normal until the afternoon sports (it's still sports weeks) which were begun with mock-up parades. I was told it was as practice for the festival tomorrow, but I never saw students in the parade, so who knows.
At the appointed meeting time, 6 o'clock, I went to meet Somran at his home with Ruth Yndra, the Philipina who teaches English to kindergarten students at my school. From there he took us to a little shop/house on the main drag of Nong Chang and taught us how to make the banana boats (Pictures next post). At the same time, the women of some organization (of which there are 6 doing the same) were making a float out of banana leaves to be in the next day's parade.
The next day was the parade, and, I found out, I was to be in it with the ladies who's float I watched being made. At first I was nervous, being terribly under dressed, but, it's a small town and everyone knows me anyway so that fell away quickly enough.
Like Jesus with loaves and fishes, Nong Chang is with parades. They managed to turn a 15 walk into a 2 hour procession. Each group had to stop and do a dance in front of what must have been judges, although no winner was mentioned for the dancing (my group did win with their float though).
After the parade was a large party, with 3 stages and a small vacant lot turned into a kind of bar with a rock band playing. I spent time at all three, all the while being fed and boozed by Somran, who must have no greater pleasures in life than feeding me and getting me drunk. I ended up home by midnight having had a marvelous, marvelous time.
The float, nearly finished.
Close up of the float head,
spouting water.
My group at the parade.
The parade, my vantage point.
The festival beginning.
People launching their boats.
Two of my friends with their boats,
one borrowed.
Boats floating away.
The boats after the floating
and subsequent theft of the coin inside by children.
Aforementioned children.
Having a great time throwing firewords at each other.
Ladies waiting to dance.
Samron in between feeding me and
getting me drunk.
Mermaid float.
Birthday cake float.
Boat float.
Local scavenger dog,
meekly enjoying the festival.
My group on stage doing their dance.
As I walked through the morning market (ah yes, I found a new market in town. Not only is there a night market, a Monday and Thursday market, and a weekend market, but there is also a morning market where you can get everything you would ever want in the way of food preparation). So, I was walking through the morning market, and saws dozens of cute little banana boats with flowers, candles, and incense stuck into them every which way. I didn't know too much about the festival yet, but eventually decided to purchase one and have on my desk throughout the day until I knew what to do with it.
At that, Somran saw it and invited me to meet him that night to learn how to make my own, I happily accepted and went out side for the morning announcements which were, I found out, to be more than usual. Every child in the school had a boat and after announcements they walked them to the temple, all 1750 of them, to be blessed by the monks there.
After that, school proceeded as normal until the afternoon sports (it's still sports weeks) which were begun with mock-up parades. I was told it was as practice for the festival tomorrow, but I never saw students in the parade, so who knows.
At the appointed meeting time, 6 o'clock, I went to meet Somran at his home with Ruth Yndra, the Philipina who teaches English to kindergarten students at my school. From there he took us to a little shop/house on the main drag of Nong Chang and taught us how to make the banana boats (Pictures next post). At the same time, the women of some organization (of which there are 6 doing the same) were making a float out of banana leaves to be in the next day's parade.
The next day was the parade, and, I found out, I was to be in it with the ladies who's float I watched being made. At first I was nervous, being terribly under dressed, but, it's a small town and everyone knows me anyway so that fell away quickly enough.
Like Jesus with loaves and fishes, Nong Chang is with parades. They managed to turn a 15 walk into a 2 hour procession. Each group had to stop and do a dance in front of what must have been judges, although no winner was mentioned for the dancing (my group did win with their float though).
After the parade was a large party, with 3 stages and a small vacant lot turned into a kind of bar with a rock band playing. I spent time at all three, all the while being fed and boozed by Somran, who must have no greater pleasures in life than feeding me and getting me drunk. I ended up home by midnight having had a marvelous, marvelous time.
My Boat, finished.
The float, nearly finished.
Close up of the float head,
spouting water.
My group at the parade.
The parade, my vantage point.
The festival beginning.
People launching their boats.
Two of my friends with their boats,
one borrowed.
Boats floating away.
The boats after the floating
and subsequent theft of the coin inside by children.
Aforementioned children.
Having a great time throwing firewords at each other.
Ladies waiting to dance.
Samron in between feeding me and
getting me drunk.
Mermaid float.
Birthday cake float.
Boat float.
Girl in a country-western marching band?
Local scavenger dog,
meekly enjoying the festival.
My group on stage doing their dance.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Sports Week
This week, I have seen what may be the most amazing thing I've seen since coming across the ocean. For two whole weeks the last hour or two of school is taken off for sports. There are very few actual games played, most of the kids just do drills and exercises while about half of the students sit in rows clapping while girls dance a well known dance to a well known song.
The amazing thing is, however, not an ounce of fighting. No arguments over the rules, cheating, who gets to start, who plays on what team, someones success or failure, just 1750 kids having a blast. Games that would be reduced to redfaced battles to the death in America, continue happily and without incident with almost know attention paid by the supervising teachers.
Another thing that surprised me was the lack of organization and the overbearing concern for the children's safety. Children ran across the street after balls, where in America they're not allowed to enter the parking lot on penalty of death. Children scampered up rickety ladders to the rooftops to get down balls, children wander about without anyone knowing where they are going, or why.
Terrifying? Not at all. It was surprisingly safe and comforting. The school, in general, operates on a rule of chaos. Children are expected to be responsible for themselves. To look before they go across the street. To not wander off. To not be stupid enough to lean out of a bus. It's a small town, a very small town. The rules don't keep the children safe, we do, and of course they keep themselves safe.
Children certainly don't seem to get into accidents any more here than they do in America. Perhaps depending on rules to keep our children safe isn't any more effective than expecting the community to keep them safe, especially in such a small town.
I will certainly write more on this topic, and on teaching in general, soon. In the meantime, here are some pictures:
The amazing thing is, however, not an ounce of fighting. No arguments over the rules, cheating, who gets to start, who plays on what team, someones success or failure, just 1750 kids having a blast. Games that would be reduced to redfaced battles to the death in America, continue happily and without incident with almost know attention paid by the supervising teachers.
Another thing that surprised me was the lack of organization and the overbearing concern for the children's safety. Children ran across the street after balls, where in America they're not allowed to enter the parking lot on penalty of death. Children scampered up rickety ladders to the rooftops to get down balls, children wander about without anyone knowing where they are going, or why.
Terrifying? Not at all. It was surprisingly safe and comforting. The school, in general, operates on a rule of chaos. Children are expected to be responsible for themselves. To look before they go across the street. To not wander off. To not be stupid enough to lean out of a bus. It's a small town, a very small town. The rules don't keep the children safe, we do, and of course they keep themselves safe.
Children certainly don't seem to get into accidents any more here than they do in America. Perhaps depending on rules to keep our children safe isn't any more effective than expecting the community to keep them safe, especially in such a small town.
I will certainly write more on this topic, and on teaching in general, soon. In the meantime, here are some pictures:
A very cool Thai game. Essentially very much like volleyball
but with the no-hands rule of soccer: feet and heads only.
Americans can stop feeling cool about hacky sack now.
One of my students.
And another.
A soccer drill.
The well-known song and dance...
Food Festival...
I have been blessed with this first month in Nong Chang in so many ways. Not the least of which is the occurrence of two festivals within the first month of my working here. Although I was hoping that my next post would be a long intricate description of my first impressions of teaching in Thailand, I find my thoughts too difficult to organize into one post, and too much is happening now to wait any longer.
The food festival happens once a year. So far as I can discern it has no more religious or cultural significance than a county fair, but it sure is a blast. This is very similar to the food festival in Nong Khai and leaves me wondering if it is some sort of travelling group on a circuit, or if it is something many local regions put together on their own. Either way, it's a huge draw for all sorts of people, and has live performances going throughout the night... which even included my very own students...
Saturday, November 17, 2007
My Home and School
This is the outside of my school... remember, open doors and windows... No AC!
This building is currently being built,
Myself and Samkorn (Thom). He teaches
This building is currently being built, as the director hopes to expand the school...
Myself and Samkorn (Thom). He teachesMathematics to the upper grades.
Noom and Anno. Noom teaches computers,
Anno is my fellow Farang English Teacher.
My House: Living Room.
Bed Room
Master Bathroom: Hot water Shower,
freshly installed
My Kitchen, quite cluttered, but with no
Noom and Anno. Noom teaches computers,Anno is my fellow Farang English Teacher.
My House: Living Room.
Bed Room
Master Bathroom: Hot water Shower,freshly installed
My Kitchen, quite cluttered, but with nocabinets or shelving, one has little choice.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
I Was Disappointed...
that children did not play in fields beside and behind my house. When I first looked out the windows and explored, with my eyes primarily, the empty fields land marked by mounds of dirt and sticks, mazes of tall grass, and other interesting geological features, I thought for sure this must be a favorite of the local children.
It evoked, quite strongly, "the mountain," which rose at the center of an abandoned field (construction site in waiting) littered with wondrous locals and enchanted glens that only a child could possibly enjoy to the fullest. Surely, "the mountain" could not have been as grand as I remember it, nor the piles of rubble so elegantly arranged, nor the trees so mysterious and powerful.
The fields around my house, unimpressive to my adult eye, must have looked very similar to my mountain and it's encompassing kingdom. This, I thought, was evidence enough that it was a favorite play-place for the children of Nong Chang.
But there were no children. Was the magic of such things lost on Thai children? Were they too interested in television and video games (which, surely, were no less popular in my childhood, but the notion held a sort of older generation superiority)? I was baffled, although not too concerned because of the many other affairs that had filled my life.
Today, however, my first weekend day at home, no fewer than 5 children (that I noticed) in two separate groups made the fields their special place, whatever name they may have put to it, and I felt a sense of gratification and relief that far outweighed any sense of annoyance that may have bubbled up due to their intrusions.
On another note, my hot water heater was installed today. At a few minutes before 10, I locked myself out of the room that contained the bathroom where it was to be installed. No problem, I thought, I have until 3. Well, the installation men had the audacity to overlook the Thai habit of being a little late, and rang my bell no later than 10:05.
I panicked, and the neighbors, who have some attachment and reign over my house that I don't quite understand, summoned up several sets of keys, none of which opened the door in question. Finally, one of the workers scampered through the acoustical tile in the ceiling, crawled to my room, and dropped down in like fashion, opening my door. I removed the key from the room to be stored in the living room, and will make a copy at the next weekend market.
The heater itself is passable, although I can either have a very hot shower, or a very strong one, but not both at the same time. I feel a twinge of regret not purchasing a more powerful unit, although this is sated by the thought (as the lights dim whenever it is turned on) that perhaps it is a limit of my little house and not the heater itself as I have had showers better from less impressive machines.
Ah yes, by the way, "hot water heater" is by no means in the western sense. It does not provide a store of hot water for my entire house, but rather sits in my bathroom, quite dormant, until I take a shower. Then, and only then, the coils heat up the water passing through it.
It evoked, quite strongly, "the mountain," which rose at the center of an abandoned field (construction site in waiting) littered with wondrous locals and enchanted glens that only a child could possibly enjoy to the fullest. Surely, "the mountain" could not have been as grand as I remember it, nor the piles of rubble so elegantly arranged, nor the trees so mysterious and powerful.
The fields around my house, unimpressive to my adult eye, must have looked very similar to my mountain and it's encompassing kingdom. This, I thought, was evidence enough that it was a favorite play-place for the children of Nong Chang.
But there were no children. Was the magic of such things lost on Thai children? Were they too interested in television and video games (which, surely, were no less popular in my childhood, but the notion held a sort of older generation superiority)? I was baffled, although not too concerned because of the many other affairs that had filled my life.
Today, however, my first weekend day at home, no fewer than 5 children (that I noticed) in two separate groups made the fields their special place, whatever name they may have put to it, and I felt a sense of gratification and relief that far outweighed any sense of annoyance that may have bubbled up due to their intrusions.
On another note, my hot water heater was installed today. At a few minutes before 10, I locked myself out of the room that contained the bathroom where it was to be installed. No problem, I thought, I have until 3. Well, the installation men had the audacity to overlook the Thai habit of being a little late, and rang my bell no later than 10:05.
I panicked, and the neighbors, who have some attachment and reign over my house that I don't quite understand, summoned up several sets of keys, none of which opened the door in question. Finally, one of the workers scampered through the acoustical tile in the ceiling, crawled to my room, and dropped down in like fashion, opening my door. I removed the key from the room to be stored in the living room, and will make a copy at the next weekend market.
The heater itself is passable, although I can either have a very hot shower, or a very strong one, but not both at the same time. I feel a twinge of regret not purchasing a more powerful unit, although this is sated by the thought (as the lights dim whenever it is turned on) that perhaps it is a limit of my little house and not the heater itself as I have had showers better from less impressive machines.
Ah yes, by the way, "hot water heater" is by no means in the western sense. It does not provide a store of hot water for my entire house, but rather sits in my bathroom, quite dormant, until I take a shower. Then, and only then, the coils heat up the water passing through it.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Bare Necessities...
Today I have completed my quest for the bare necessities of life. First, and foremost, I achieved fire. That all powerful gift handed down from my forebears is now under my control in my very own kitchen.
I had been fretting and worrying about how to get the gas tank to my house for days. Finally, I was at a restaurant and saw a young man pull up, roll in a full gas tank, and roll out an empty one. Eureka! They delivered. I had only seen them at one shop, which, upon visiting, I saw the very youth of the night prior. After much meddling and muddling in Thai so poorly pronounced I could not be understood, and hand signals, the message was received and shortly their after I was followed home with a full tank of glorious fuel for my little burner.
Next, I was on a bus for an hour and half to the nearest mall/department store complex. Many malls here are simply an extension of one or two large stores. The nearest to Nong Chang is in Nakhon Sawan, a neighboring provincial capital.
There, I purchased a properly warm comforter for my bed. Now I had a warm place to sleep. Though, surely, you must think, Nong Chang has blankets? Indeed they do dear friends, indeed they do. However, I've found that once you leave the fashoinista-rich environs of Bangkok, you quickly find yourself among rural Thais for whom color and style have no meaning.
When I first purchased my bed and asked about sheets I was confidently handed a set of garishly pink "Hello Kitty" sheets. Now, I wasn't in the mood to be terribly picky, but that was just not within my realm of acceptability.
"Do you have another" I motioned and asked. Rapid pointing to the bed and sheets and indications that it was the right size. "I don't like the color" (unable to utter the phrase "anything but pink hello kitty"). A confused look of defeat, that was all they had.
So, I found myself trucking to Big C, the titan that competes with a fellow titan, Tesco Lotus, for the coveted position of "The Walmart of Thailand."
I arrived, wandered about the attached mall with disinterest, and came across my third necessity, although to anyone but a Westerner it is sheer luxury: a how water heater. The price was large (at least 4,000 baht, installation included), but the allure was strong. I told them I would be back to see how much Big C would suck out of me.
I also purchased some sketchbooks--why not pick art back up in my little town?--before hitting the Big C.
It was everything I had expected, a giant gleaming well-organized warehouse full of everything from televisions to fresh meat. I had run into a fellow teacher (an overwhelmingly shy Filipina who taught English to kindergartners at my school) and her cousin, and we decided to make our way to bedsheets. Everything that wasn't hideous was over 1,000 baht, and included a full set (but not a simple sheet, only a fitted one, to my dismay). Finally I decided on the middle of the road 1300 baht set (around 40 dollars) that was pleasant enough. Success.
I had decided that I would stay in the middle of the road, where it seemed safely comfortable but not bordering on excess, in my purchase of a hot water heater. 4,900 baht, installation included, would suit me just fine. They will install my glorious contraption tomorrow at 3, assuming they can find my house using the drawing I made.
Ah yes, my landlady, when asked to give me my address, seems to have given me something different entirely. The road she wrote down was certainly not mine. I shall have to inquire again.
And there we have it. I can cook (although not yet keep food cold), I can sleep and bathe comfortably, and I have a place for the vast majority of my belongings. The cultivation of beauty shall come with time, and more paychecks, for now, I shall simply enjoy the bare necessities of good living.
I had been fretting and worrying about how to get the gas tank to my house for days. Finally, I was at a restaurant and saw a young man pull up, roll in a full gas tank, and roll out an empty one. Eureka! They delivered. I had only seen them at one shop, which, upon visiting, I saw the very youth of the night prior. After much meddling and muddling in Thai so poorly pronounced I could not be understood, and hand signals, the message was received and shortly their after I was followed home with a full tank of glorious fuel for my little burner.
Next, I was on a bus for an hour and half to the nearest mall/department store complex. Many malls here are simply an extension of one or two large stores. The nearest to Nong Chang is in Nakhon Sawan, a neighboring provincial capital.
There, I purchased a properly warm comforter for my bed. Now I had a warm place to sleep. Though, surely, you must think, Nong Chang has blankets? Indeed they do dear friends, indeed they do. However, I've found that once you leave the fashoinista-rich environs of Bangkok, you quickly find yourself among rural Thais for whom color and style have no meaning.
When I first purchased my bed and asked about sheets I was confidently handed a set of garishly pink "Hello Kitty" sheets. Now, I wasn't in the mood to be terribly picky, but that was just not within my realm of acceptability.
"Do you have another" I motioned and asked. Rapid pointing to the bed and sheets and indications that it was the right size. "I don't like the color" (unable to utter the phrase "anything but pink hello kitty"). A confused look of defeat, that was all they had.
So, I found myself trucking to Big C, the titan that competes with a fellow titan, Tesco Lotus, for the coveted position of "The Walmart of Thailand."
I arrived, wandered about the attached mall with disinterest, and came across my third necessity, although to anyone but a Westerner it is sheer luxury: a how water heater. The price was large (at least 4,000 baht, installation included), but the allure was strong. I told them I would be back to see how much Big C would suck out of me.
I also purchased some sketchbooks--why not pick art back up in my little town?--before hitting the Big C.
It was everything I had expected, a giant gleaming well-organized warehouse full of everything from televisions to fresh meat. I had run into a fellow teacher (an overwhelmingly shy Filipina who taught English to kindergartners at my school) and her cousin, and we decided to make our way to bedsheets. Everything that wasn't hideous was over 1,000 baht, and included a full set (but not a simple sheet, only a fitted one, to my dismay). Finally I decided on the middle of the road 1300 baht set (around 40 dollars) that was pleasant enough. Success.
I had decided that I would stay in the middle of the road, where it seemed safely comfortable but not bordering on excess, in my purchase of a hot water heater. 4,900 baht, installation included, would suit me just fine. They will install my glorious contraption tomorrow at 3, assuming they can find my house using the drawing I made.
Ah yes, my landlady, when asked to give me my address, seems to have given me something different entirely. The road she wrote down was certainly not mine. I shall have to inquire again.
And there we have it. I can cook (although not yet keep food cold), I can sleep and bathe comfortably, and I have a place for the vast majority of my belongings. The cultivation of beauty shall come with time, and more paychecks, for now, I shall simply enjoy the bare necessities of good living.
Friday, November 9, 2007
"Peht"
Spicy(Peht) is a highly subjective thing in Thailand, I am finding. I consider myself at least reasonably well tempered against spices. I can easily eat anything they would dare create in a Thai or Indian restaurant in America for someone who asked to have it made "spicy"
Here, it's hit or miss, and I find that Thais have a great variety of concern for me and my Farang tongue. Just tonight, was hastily brought a meal without fuss that caused me great concern, drinking several glasses of water, marked by the occasional full green chili pepper found within the fearsome plate.
Later in the evening, I found myself the customer of a wary and reluctant Thai woman who insisted that it was spicy, in Thai, and made several hand motions to ensure that I knew what I was getting myself into. I bought it, fearfully, and took a bite of the strange creation ( a kind of crepe folded into a cone with the "spicy" filling. The first bite was harmless, the danger must be at the bottom I thought.
I was able to eat the entire thing, never once detecting that pepper of any kind was even an ingredient. Perhaps my tongue had been tempered by its earlier experience? Certainly, though, this was nowhere near as spicy. The variation makes ordering food very difficult.
Do I want it spicy? Yes. Very spicy? I don't know... what is very spicy for you? Will you tone it down for me even if I say very spicy? Will you absentmindedly produce a maelstrom of fire without even asking if I want it spicy?
So far, I haven't had anything I can't eat, or even didn't enjoy on one level or another, but I thought I would share.
Here, it's hit or miss, and I find that Thais have a great variety of concern for me and my Farang tongue. Just tonight, was hastily brought a meal without fuss that caused me great concern, drinking several glasses of water, marked by the occasional full green chili pepper found within the fearsome plate.
Later in the evening, I found myself the customer of a wary and reluctant Thai woman who insisted that it was spicy, in Thai, and made several hand motions to ensure that I knew what I was getting myself into. I bought it, fearfully, and took a bite of the strange creation ( a kind of crepe folded into a cone with the "spicy" filling. The first bite was harmless, the danger must be at the bottom I thought.
I was able to eat the entire thing, never once detecting that pepper of any kind was even an ingredient. Perhaps my tongue had been tempered by its earlier experience? Certainly, though, this was nowhere near as spicy. The variation makes ordering food very difficult.
Do I want it spicy? Yes. Very spicy? I don't know... what is very spicy for you? Will you tone it down for me even if I say very spicy? Will you absentmindedly produce a maelstrom of fire without even asking if I want it spicy?
So far, I haven't had anything I can't eat, or even didn't enjoy on one level or another, but I thought I would share.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Life is Good
I've moved to my new town and begun work at my new school and things are going quite well. Nong Chang is a very beautiful, friendly, and blessedly small town. It is the capital of the district of Nong Chang which is in the province of Uthai Thani, Thailand.
The "downtown" area consists of a main drag that has experienced a slight sprawl to one or two parrallel streets and to the main highway going to the provincial capital, but otherwise remains quite centralized. I can walk across the whole down town strip (even with my slight hobble) in about 15 minutes. From my home, about a half mile east of "downtown" to the school, about a quarter mile west of downtown, I can bike in 6 minutes... it's a very tiny and concentrated little existence, and I love it dearly.
When I came here I had my choice between 4 places. A townhouse, 2 studio apartments, and a regular house, all unfurnished except for one studio which came with a bed. The townhouse was nice, came with a/c (in one room) hot shower and western toilet. But, it was dreadfully dark, and large and felt like it would swallow me whole and leave me feeling lonely. The studios were both very similar, although one was certainly nicer than the other. Neither had a/c or hot showers, and I figured for 30 bucks a month extra, I would get the cute little house.
My house has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, and a very large living room. This costs me about 2,500 baht per month, or 75 dollars. Much to my surprise and chagrin furnishing the home is turning out to be quite expensive, and will surely outweigh the cost of 4 months rent, although I plan to sign on for another semester, extending my stay.
I plan to get my own hot water heater (although installing it is a mystery...) and simply live without air conditioning, at least until the cool season ends (and I've had a chance to save some money).
The school is just lovely, although huge and rather basic. I teach grades 4, 5, and 6, seeing each class for one hour per week. Each grade level has 6 classes, and each class has 40-50 students. In total, I have about 750 students to whom I must give grades and with whom I must make progress... it is a bit daunting. Although, no FCAT, no real standards whatsoever, simply the expectation that I show up and produce some sort of grade at the end of the process.
Anno, my fellow farang teacher from the Netherlands, and myself are the only white people in town, perhaps for several towns. This gives us a good degree of celebrity status, especially among the students. At Southside, I rather liked the special status being a substitute teacher gave me. I saw each class just long enough to really have fun with them, but not long enough to sour many students against me. Walking through the halls I enjoyed a tremendous popularity.
In my school in Nong Chang, it is staggering. Shaking hands with Anno and I is quite a big deal. Students are either terrified of it (having not yet met us) or entirely over eager. Either way, there is always some sort of very strong reaction to us.
If anyone would like my new address, you can email me for it, posting it wholesale via internet doesn't seem wise (especially after finding out someone has been buying subscriptions to online dating sites using my check card, which I just had to cancel). Know that I am quite well and quite happy in my new home.
The "downtown" area consists of a main drag that has experienced a slight sprawl to one or two parrallel streets and to the main highway going to the provincial capital, but otherwise remains quite centralized. I can walk across the whole down town strip (even with my slight hobble) in about 15 minutes. From my home, about a half mile east of "downtown" to the school, about a quarter mile west of downtown, I can bike in 6 minutes... it's a very tiny and concentrated little existence, and I love it dearly.
When I came here I had my choice between 4 places. A townhouse, 2 studio apartments, and a regular house, all unfurnished except for one studio which came with a bed. The townhouse was nice, came with a/c (in one room) hot shower and western toilet. But, it was dreadfully dark, and large and felt like it would swallow me whole and leave me feeling lonely. The studios were both very similar, although one was certainly nicer than the other. Neither had a/c or hot showers, and I figured for 30 bucks a month extra, I would get the cute little house.
My house has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, and a very large living room. This costs me about 2,500 baht per month, or 75 dollars. Much to my surprise and chagrin furnishing the home is turning out to be quite expensive, and will surely outweigh the cost of 4 months rent, although I plan to sign on for another semester, extending my stay.
I plan to get my own hot water heater (although installing it is a mystery...) and simply live without air conditioning, at least until the cool season ends (and I've had a chance to save some money).
The school is just lovely, although huge and rather basic. I teach grades 4, 5, and 6, seeing each class for one hour per week. Each grade level has 6 classes, and each class has 40-50 students. In total, I have about 750 students to whom I must give grades and with whom I must make progress... it is a bit daunting. Although, no FCAT, no real standards whatsoever, simply the expectation that I show up and produce some sort of grade at the end of the process.
Anno, my fellow farang teacher from the Netherlands, and myself are the only white people in town, perhaps for several towns. This gives us a good degree of celebrity status, especially among the students. At Southside, I rather liked the special status being a substitute teacher gave me. I saw each class just long enough to really have fun with them, but not long enough to sour many students against me. Walking through the halls I enjoyed a tremendous popularity.
In my school in Nong Chang, it is staggering. Shaking hands with Anno and I is quite a big deal. Students are either terrified of it (having not yet met us) or entirely over eager. Either way, there is always some sort of very strong reaction to us.
If anyone would like my new address, you can email me for it, posting it wholesale via internet doesn't seem wise (especially after finding out someone has been buying subscriptions to online dating sites using my check card, which I just had to cancel). Know that I am quite well and quite happy in my new home.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The Post of a Thousand Titles, Part II
So, I was there in bed, letting the painkillers and my first real chance to relax finally sink in. I decided that I could not come all this way for nothing, I had to see the balls of fire. Despite everything, I would go back again that night. I talked to Trevor, and he agreed. I was going to go.
I hobbled my way to a tuk tuk and got a ride to the bus station only to find out something terrible. I could get there, but I would not be able to get back, this was the last bus to or from Pon Pisai. What would I do? It would be bad enough to be there for a couple hours on crutches, but all night? I wasn't very keen on the idea of visiting my adopted family again, accommodating as they were...
As I stood there contemplating my decision a "friendly stranger" (which should have been my first clue) suggested I take a taxi. I asked how much that would cost and he said I would have to negotiate... next thing I knew, he was running off to get someone for me to negotiate with.
He arrived with a gentleman and we began discussing the terms. He would take me there and bring me back at 11pm for 800 baht. It was expensive, but again, I couldn't have come this far not to see the naga fireballs, so I accepted.
He walked me to his truck, collected the money, and left me there to make preparations. As I sat there, I realized that this was exactly the sort of thing that can get you into some trouble, or at least stranded. I should have only paid half, but I didn't have the correct change to do that, and didn't want to make a fuss. I quickly pushed the idea of any shenanigans out of my head. Thais can be annoying, and even greedy, but they would not leave a crippled man stranded in a strange city...
A few minutes passed, and later a man got into the car, saying he was the driver's friend. Fair enough, I thought, he'll be stuck there for 3 hours, might as well have someone to hang out with. No problem, mai pen rai.
As our trip began, the friend in the back pulled out a bottle of whiskey and handed it to me. It was still sealed, so I knew it would be safe to drink. This worried me a bit, but it was a small bottle, certainly not enough to get someone drinking a 3rd of it too drunk to drive, so I took a swig and passed it back.
The driver hit it like a pro, draining a sizable portion of the bottle with every turn, and definitely got more than his 3rd. Still, he didn't seem drunk in the least, and we were almost there.
Finally, we turned off somewhere. We pulled into a dark parking lot near a little shop, and the friend in the back told me "fireball" and pointed at the river. I insisted they take me to Pon Pisai, at which he remarked, "oh, you've been there?" I said yes. He tried to get me to accept this location but I very emphatically insisted on Pon Pisai.
The friend talked to the driver who returned with a much bigger bottle of whisky, and we were on our way again. I stopped sharing at this point. Another 10 minutes, and the friend (who I guess was the nominated liar/sleazebag) said "only there, you pay to come back." I once again got emphatic, although they didn't seem very convinced, and I knew I didn't have much power at this point.
So, when they stopped and let me off, I hobbled to the back of the truck, got my crutches, and very visibly entered their license plate number into my cell phone. Then, I said "If you're not back in 3 hours, I call the police." I began to hobble towards the river, really hamming it up, and they quickly followed with a matt to sit on and the whiskey. The expressions on their faces were feigned concern for me, overshadowed by concern for themselves. Thank god I had the license plate number.
At this point, I didn't even want to ride back with them, I certainly didn't want to sit by the river with them for 3 hours. But they were faster than me, and if I told them to leave me alone I probably wouldn't see them again. They kept trying to offer me whiskey, and I refused most of the time, although I had begun to decide riding back with them was not an option and I may as well get something out of the deal.
Shortly after sitting down, they began harassing girls around us. Telling them to come sit with me. Saying loudly I should go home with them. It was horrible. I looked visibly distressed, and pathetically stranded, and luckily, one of the girls spoke just enough English to compliment my Thai.
We talked and I explained as much as I could. I told her not to worry, "I'm not a bad person like them." I eventually even told her I had a boyfriend, so she wouldn't think I would try something untoward. It turns out, she was at the river with her girlfriend and little brother, and was from Nong Khai (where my hotel was), and yes, she would give me a ride home.
I quickly told the two guys to go away. It took some doing, and I had to put up with what I'm sure were off-color comments about going home with the girl, but finally, they left.
The girls and little brother were incredibly kind. We hung out, talked, the brother was sent to buy me food and water since I couldn't walk, and eventually we even sent up fire balloons for good luck. They gave me a ride home and I couldn't have been happier for my second adoptive Thai family.
On my final day of the long weekend, I went to Laos which was uneventful and uninteresting. I walked around Vientiene long enough to say that I had done it, and went back to Nong Khai after about 3 hours.
That evening, I went to the final night of a food festival in Nongkhai. I hobbled there, expecting a smallish gathering of food stalls and a few dozen families. Oh no. A few hundred meters down the bank of Mekhong was covered with food stalls, stages, and even a small carnival.
The first stage I walked past was preparing for something, I wasn't sure what, and I just walked on by. The stage at the end of the strip, next to the carnival was a full on Thai rock band concert. I grabbed a few odds and ends no the way (one of which, I think, was fried chicken cartilage, another was a corn kernel sundae. Yep. Steamed corn kernels with coconut milk, chocolate sauce, sprinkles, and a candy cherry-like ball on top) and sat down for the show.
After about 5 minutes, two boys asked if they could sit with me, and I told them sure. Another few minutes passed and I had been enveloped in a very large Thai family that immediately insisted on getting me drunk and feeding me. My 3rd adoption. I shared whiskey and beer with them happily, but the food I tried my best to politely refuse.
You can only refuse so much, unfortunately. I had vaguely wanted to try squid (I think that's what it was? maybe octopus?) so, I went for that one to ease their pestering. Oh it was terrible. Salty and fishy and it was all I could do not to spit it out or throw it up. I chewed and swallowed as quickly as physics would allow and drowned it with a considerable amount of beer. I thanked them, and was rather persistent about refusing anything else...
On my way back, I ran into someone who worked at my hotel and sat with them for a bit. He asked me if I had seen the lady boy contest. Lady boy contest? Apparently, that was what the stage was set up for. Thais of all ages and persuasions were seated around a giant stage (in the center of the festival) where 30 or so lady boys competed (I guess for the most beautiful?).
I watched for a bit, although it was much more like a beauty pageant than anything else, and I lost interest quickly. On my way back I ran into some Europeans (a healthy mixture of Germans and swedes and I'm not sure what else) and got invited for a beer. I went, ended up discussing politics and travel over a beer and a football game and finally went home to bed, ending my weekend in Northeast Thailand.
Pictures will be up soon, although not many. The conjunction of camera problems and computer problems are working against me...
I hobbled my way to a tuk tuk and got a ride to the bus station only to find out something terrible. I could get there, but I would not be able to get back, this was the last bus to or from Pon Pisai. What would I do? It would be bad enough to be there for a couple hours on crutches, but all night? I wasn't very keen on the idea of visiting my adopted family again, accommodating as they were...
As I stood there contemplating my decision a "friendly stranger" (which should have been my first clue) suggested I take a taxi. I asked how much that would cost and he said I would have to negotiate... next thing I knew, he was running off to get someone for me to negotiate with.
He arrived with a gentleman and we began discussing the terms. He would take me there and bring me back at 11pm for 800 baht. It was expensive, but again, I couldn't have come this far not to see the naga fireballs, so I accepted.
He walked me to his truck, collected the money, and left me there to make preparations. As I sat there, I realized that this was exactly the sort of thing that can get you into some trouble, or at least stranded. I should have only paid half, but I didn't have the correct change to do that, and didn't want to make a fuss. I quickly pushed the idea of any shenanigans out of my head. Thais can be annoying, and even greedy, but they would not leave a crippled man stranded in a strange city...
A few minutes passed, and later a man got into the car, saying he was the driver's friend. Fair enough, I thought, he'll be stuck there for 3 hours, might as well have someone to hang out with. No problem, mai pen rai.
As our trip began, the friend in the back pulled out a bottle of whiskey and handed it to me. It was still sealed, so I knew it would be safe to drink. This worried me a bit, but it was a small bottle, certainly not enough to get someone drinking a 3rd of it too drunk to drive, so I took a swig and passed it back.
The driver hit it like a pro, draining a sizable portion of the bottle with every turn, and definitely got more than his 3rd. Still, he didn't seem drunk in the least, and we were almost there.
Finally, we turned off somewhere. We pulled into a dark parking lot near a little shop, and the friend in the back told me "fireball" and pointed at the river. I insisted they take me to Pon Pisai, at which he remarked, "oh, you've been there?" I said yes. He tried to get me to accept this location but I very emphatically insisted on Pon Pisai.
The friend talked to the driver who returned with a much bigger bottle of whisky, and we were on our way again. I stopped sharing at this point. Another 10 minutes, and the friend (who I guess was the nominated liar/sleazebag) said "only there, you pay to come back." I once again got emphatic, although they didn't seem very convinced, and I knew I didn't have much power at this point.
So, when they stopped and let me off, I hobbled to the back of the truck, got my crutches, and very visibly entered their license plate number into my cell phone. Then, I said "If you're not back in 3 hours, I call the police." I began to hobble towards the river, really hamming it up, and they quickly followed with a matt to sit on and the whiskey. The expressions on their faces were feigned concern for me, overshadowed by concern for themselves. Thank god I had the license plate number.
At this point, I didn't even want to ride back with them, I certainly didn't want to sit by the river with them for 3 hours. But they were faster than me, and if I told them to leave me alone I probably wouldn't see them again. They kept trying to offer me whiskey, and I refused most of the time, although I had begun to decide riding back with them was not an option and I may as well get something out of the deal.
Shortly after sitting down, they began harassing girls around us. Telling them to come sit with me. Saying loudly I should go home with them. It was horrible. I looked visibly distressed, and pathetically stranded, and luckily, one of the girls spoke just enough English to compliment my Thai.
We talked and I explained as much as I could. I told her not to worry, "I'm not a bad person like them." I eventually even told her I had a boyfriend, so she wouldn't think I would try something untoward. It turns out, she was at the river with her girlfriend and little brother, and was from Nong Khai (where my hotel was), and yes, she would give me a ride home.
I quickly told the two guys to go away. It took some doing, and I had to put up with what I'm sure were off-color comments about going home with the girl, but finally, they left.
The girls and little brother were incredibly kind. We hung out, talked, the brother was sent to buy me food and water since I couldn't walk, and eventually we even sent up fire balloons for good luck. They gave me a ride home and I couldn't have been happier for my second adoptive Thai family.
On my final day of the long weekend, I went to Laos which was uneventful and uninteresting. I walked around Vientiene long enough to say that I had done it, and went back to Nong Khai after about 3 hours.
That evening, I went to the final night of a food festival in Nongkhai. I hobbled there, expecting a smallish gathering of food stalls and a few dozen families. Oh no. A few hundred meters down the bank of Mekhong was covered with food stalls, stages, and even a small carnival.
The first stage I walked past was preparing for something, I wasn't sure what, and I just walked on by. The stage at the end of the strip, next to the carnival was a full on Thai rock band concert. I grabbed a few odds and ends no the way (one of which, I think, was fried chicken cartilage, another was a corn kernel sundae. Yep. Steamed corn kernels with coconut milk, chocolate sauce, sprinkles, and a candy cherry-like ball on top) and sat down for the show.
After about 5 minutes, two boys asked if they could sit with me, and I told them sure. Another few minutes passed and I had been enveloped in a very large Thai family that immediately insisted on getting me drunk and feeding me. My 3rd adoption. I shared whiskey and beer with them happily, but the food I tried my best to politely refuse.
You can only refuse so much, unfortunately. I had vaguely wanted to try squid (I think that's what it was? maybe octopus?) so, I went for that one to ease their pestering. Oh it was terrible. Salty and fishy and it was all I could do not to spit it out or throw it up. I chewed and swallowed as quickly as physics would allow and drowned it with a considerable amount of beer. I thanked them, and was rather persistent about refusing anything else...
On my way back, I ran into someone who worked at my hotel and sat with them for a bit. He asked me if I had seen the lady boy contest. Lady boy contest? Apparently, that was what the stage was set up for. Thais of all ages and persuasions were seated around a giant stage (in the center of the festival) where 30 or so lady boys competed (I guess for the most beautiful?).
I watched for a bit, although it was much more like a beauty pageant than anything else, and I lost interest quickly. On my way back I ran into some Europeans (a healthy mixture of Germans and swedes and I'm not sure what else) and got invited for a beer. I went, ended up discussing politics and travel over a beer and a football game and finally went home to bed, ending my weekend in Northeast Thailand.
Pictures will be up soon, although not many. The conjunction of camera problems and computer problems are working against me...
Sunday, October 28, 2007
The post of a thousand titles... Part I
This weekend has been a ridiculous mix of amazing highs and terrible, terrible lows. As the weekend progressed, I rattled dozens of possible titles through my head, none of which could hope to capture what has happened to me... This will be a long post.
It has been a while since my last post. Trevor has been in town which has occupied much of my time, and we moved to a new part of Bangkok where Internet access is more expensive and less accessible... and I've been a bit lazy and not much has happened...
But! On Thursday night, Trevor sent me a message telling me that the following evening in Nong Khai, a small town in northeast Thailand, there would be the bang fhaa naak nom festival. Once per year, so legend says, a gateway to the underworld opens up under the Mekhong river allowing the Nagas who live there to breathe balls of fire out of the river and into the air. Of course, there are various scientific theories about what the balls actually are, but nothing has been proven.
So, I hoped on a bus--totally unplanned--on Friday morning and began my 11 hour trip to Nong Khai. The bus for the majority of the trip, from Bangkok to Udon Thani, was very luxurious. Meals were served, the seats afforded plenty of room, and there were movies played. Despite the length it was certainly bearable.
Eventually I reached Nong Khai, only to find out that the festival was actually an hour away in Pon Pisai and started in 2 hours. I panicked and got a tuk tuk (rickshaw) to a recommended guest house which was full. Posted on the door was a sign "If you are going to the fireball festival, be in the courtyard by 1:30. Due to traffic we will have to leave early in order to make it on time."
Needless to say I panicked. It was nearly 6:00. Could I possibly make it to the festival so late? I ran to the road and got another tuk tuk back to the bus station where I immediately got on a bus to Pon Pisai. I talked to a few people on the way, asking the sorts of questions you would expect. Have you been before? Do you know when to get off? Where did you come from? I was the only westerner on the bus, and the Thais didn't seem the least bit concerned about making it on time, which was very relieving.
I arrived at the Pon Pisai bus station a little after 7 and got a tuk tuk to the festival which, truthfully, I could have walked to. I wandered around what appeared more like a county fair than a spiritual festival, with food stalls, cheap toy vendors, various mini-stages and displays set up by companies like Nokia, real estate agents, etc., all spanning the length of the Mekhong river where people were seated and standing by the thousands staring out into the river.
I began to wander around, realizing that truly, there was no need to have hurried. The festival was obviously here for the evening. Although I may not get a great seat, the river was visible from quite a ways a way and the slope allowed for plenty of people. I wandered up and down the river, talking to people and looking for the mythic bursts of flame. After a couple hours, I began to ask around, and chatted with various thai families, groups of drunk teenagers, and 1 or 2 fellow foreigners. No one had seen any yet. I was told by one gentleman from England that the last time he was here they started at 9:20... it was 9:45, they must be late he concluded.
10:00 came, then 10:30, and finally 11... still no fireballs. People were beginning to give up, the festival was emptying. I had no hotel and all the ones in Pon Pisai were booked full (tents were scattered about the river and on vacant lots everywhere). I had traveled 13 hours for nothing.
After 11:00 I decided to make my way to the bank of the river and sleep in one of the few unlittered patches of grass (left behind by some large families' mat). And then, the worst thing ever happened.
I took one step, then another, on the stadium seating-type cemented levels. On the second step there had been some stones jutting out of the cement, my foot landed just wrong, twisted, and the next moment I was on the floor in shock from the pain.
Some English speakers were nearby and asked if I was okay. In my sock and embarrassment I said yes, I would be fine. Eventually they left, asking once more and once more I said I would be fine, and then I was left alone. There were a few groups of drunks around me who assumed I must be drunker, and began to laugh and say something about the farang in Thai.
I must have been there, lying on the cement for a half hour to an hour. Filled with a torturing mixture of shock, terror, and pain, and totally hopeless. What would I do? Where would I go? I could crawl further down, and sleep on the grass hoping to be better by morning, but then I would only have further to climb up if I wasn't.
I could go up, hope to make it to a tuk tuk (at least a block or two away) with my heavy bag... or should I leave my bag? If I did make it to a tuk tuk, then what? Hotel? none to go to. Bus straight to Bangkok? Would there even be one this late? Hospital? No insurance, how much would it cost?
Finally, I decided the bank of the Mekhong was not the best choice. Still unsure of what I was doing. I made my way to the top of "steps," and froze. I saw a few motor bikes go by, but didn't feel confident enough to ask for a lift, or confident that I could ride one with my ankle, and eventually began to hobble down the street with a bag full of clothes and books.
About halfway down the block, I saw three white guys sitting with a Thai family. Maybe they could help? I looked at them, and they tried their best to ignore me. The Thai family, however, wasn't going to let me pass. I was adopted, thank god.
They gave me a place to sit, and showered me with (mostly unwanted) kindness and hospitality. They insisted on giving me sodas and beer, which could not be refused. Nor could the pressing of the ice into my ankle (which was torturous), nor the foot massage (which was skilled and not as bad).
I had essentially been given a harem. 6-10 women, all doting on me, flirting with me, telling me how handsome I was. Asking if I had a girlfriend. I said "yes." Was it serious? Where was she? Was she Thai? Did I want a Thai girlfriend? They wanted Farang husbands... Did I like them? Did I like the lady-boy in the back? What about the man to my left?
"No, no thank you. Yes, we're very serious. You are just as beautiful but I love her more."
Finally, they offered me a place to sleep. I would be sharing a tent with someone's son, who looked none to pleased, but he seemed to be a generally angsty teenager and not upset about this particular situation, just life in general. So, I said yes, if it was okay with him.
I awoke the next morning, trapped by the sleeper. I waited for him to shift so that I could crawl around him, and hobbled to the nearest chair where I sat for about an hour. One of the white men, who I learned were from Norway, was still awake with one of the women. They were enjoying a breakfast of beer and potato chips. Eventually I made my way to their table, and was trapped once again.
"Are you okay? Foot better?"
"No, I need crutches, where can I get crutches?"
No further discussion. Forced to drink coke and eat potato chips. I was asked several times throughout the morning if I was hungry, if I was better. If I said yes, I'm hungry, they just smiled. If I said I need to go to the hospital, they just smiled. I didn't want to impose, but I was completely trapped.
The Norwegian tried to convince me not to go to the hospital... to wait it out. Put tiger balm and ice on it and I would be fine. As nice as they were being, I was not excited about being trapped with them for 3-4 days. "No, I need to get crutches."
Later, the other two Norwegians joined the table. One was quiet enough, but the other was visibly upset. Eventually, he went into some sort of tirade, gesturing towards me and saying the word American in between all the Norwegian babble. He got to the point where I though he would cry, or stab me, and then put his hands down and began eating his breakfast and looking hopeless. Definitely not the actions of a stable, rational person. I can only guess that he thought I was imposing, but the way they were treating this family it was hard to take it seriously. They ordered them about like servants, not a single please or thank you as they informed them they wanted breakfast, or more coffee, or this or that. I was certainly the more gracious guest.
Eventually I was told someone would take me to the hospital. With every passing hour I asked "can you just get me a tuk tuk, I'll be fine." No, they insisted, Pi will take you, 10 minutes. 20 minues. 10 minutes. 15 minutes.
Finally, Pi arrived with his wife and they took me to the hospital. I got my x-ray, my ace bandage, some painkillers, and blessedly, crutches. The whole thing cost about 500 baht, 15 dollars. Thank God.
They began to take me back to the house in a tuk tuk and I asked to be dropped off at the bus station. I'd had enough hospitality for one day. Everyone I met was immensely helpful, I made it back to Nong Khai, and made my way to the Mut Mee guest house which had been full the night before, but looked like the type of place I could get some help.
The owner (a farang) was wonderful. He called a guest house nearby and got me a room. Two other guests offered to carry my bag for me and accompanied me to the Ruang Thai. The people at the guest house looked shocked. The owner of the Mut mee hadn't told them about the crutches, the room they had was on the second floor.
I said I could manage, but they insisted otherwise and arranged a first floor room for me, helped me carry my bags. I would have to move the next day, but again, they would help me. I laid down for a bit, ate, took my painkiller, and finally felt better.
That's only half of it!
To be Continued!!!
It has been a while since my last post. Trevor has been in town which has occupied much of my time, and we moved to a new part of Bangkok where Internet access is more expensive and less accessible... and I've been a bit lazy and not much has happened...
But! On Thursday night, Trevor sent me a message telling me that the following evening in Nong Khai, a small town in northeast Thailand, there would be the bang fhaa naak nom festival. Once per year, so legend says, a gateway to the underworld opens up under the Mekhong river allowing the Nagas who live there to breathe balls of fire out of the river and into the air. Of course, there are various scientific theories about what the balls actually are, but nothing has been proven.
So, I hoped on a bus--totally unplanned--on Friday morning and began my 11 hour trip to Nong Khai. The bus for the majority of the trip, from Bangkok to Udon Thani, was very luxurious. Meals were served, the seats afforded plenty of room, and there were movies played. Despite the length it was certainly bearable.
Eventually I reached Nong Khai, only to find out that the festival was actually an hour away in Pon Pisai and started in 2 hours. I panicked and got a tuk tuk (rickshaw) to a recommended guest house which was full. Posted on the door was a sign "If you are going to the fireball festival, be in the courtyard by 1:30. Due to traffic we will have to leave early in order to make it on time."
Needless to say I panicked. It was nearly 6:00. Could I possibly make it to the festival so late? I ran to the road and got another tuk tuk back to the bus station where I immediately got on a bus to Pon Pisai. I talked to a few people on the way, asking the sorts of questions you would expect. Have you been before? Do you know when to get off? Where did you come from? I was the only westerner on the bus, and the Thais didn't seem the least bit concerned about making it on time, which was very relieving.
I arrived at the Pon Pisai bus station a little after 7 and got a tuk tuk to the festival which, truthfully, I could have walked to. I wandered around what appeared more like a county fair than a spiritual festival, with food stalls, cheap toy vendors, various mini-stages and displays set up by companies like Nokia, real estate agents, etc., all spanning the length of the Mekhong river where people were seated and standing by the thousands staring out into the river.
I began to wander around, realizing that truly, there was no need to have hurried. The festival was obviously here for the evening. Although I may not get a great seat, the river was visible from quite a ways a way and the slope allowed for plenty of people. I wandered up and down the river, talking to people and looking for the mythic bursts of flame. After a couple hours, I began to ask around, and chatted with various thai families, groups of drunk teenagers, and 1 or 2 fellow foreigners. No one had seen any yet. I was told by one gentleman from England that the last time he was here they started at 9:20... it was 9:45, they must be late he concluded.
10:00 came, then 10:30, and finally 11... still no fireballs. People were beginning to give up, the festival was emptying. I had no hotel and all the ones in Pon Pisai were booked full (tents were scattered about the river and on vacant lots everywhere). I had traveled 13 hours for nothing.
After 11:00 I decided to make my way to the bank of the river and sleep in one of the few unlittered patches of grass (left behind by some large families' mat). And then, the worst thing ever happened.
I took one step, then another, on the stadium seating-type cemented levels. On the second step there had been some stones jutting out of the cement, my foot landed just wrong, twisted, and the next moment I was on the floor in shock from the pain.
Some English speakers were nearby and asked if I was okay. In my sock and embarrassment I said yes, I would be fine. Eventually they left, asking once more and once more I said I would be fine, and then I was left alone. There were a few groups of drunks around me who assumed I must be drunker, and began to laugh and say something about the farang in Thai.
I must have been there, lying on the cement for a half hour to an hour. Filled with a torturing mixture of shock, terror, and pain, and totally hopeless. What would I do? Where would I go? I could crawl further down, and sleep on the grass hoping to be better by morning, but then I would only have further to climb up if I wasn't.
I could go up, hope to make it to a tuk tuk (at least a block or two away) with my heavy bag... or should I leave my bag? If I did make it to a tuk tuk, then what? Hotel? none to go to. Bus straight to Bangkok? Would there even be one this late? Hospital? No insurance, how much would it cost?
Finally, I decided the bank of the Mekhong was not the best choice. Still unsure of what I was doing. I made my way to the top of "steps," and froze. I saw a few motor bikes go by, but didn't feel confident enough to ask for a lift, or confident that I could ride one with my ankle, and eventually began to hobble down the street with a bag full of clothes and books.
About halfway down the block, I saw three white guys sitting with a Thai family. Maybe they could help? I looked at them, and they tried their best to ignore me. The Thai family, however, wasn't going to let me pass. I was adopted, thank god.
They gave me a place to sit, and showered me with (mostly unwanted) kindness and hospitality. They insisted on giving me sodas and beer, which could not be refused. Nor could the pressing of the ice into my ankle (which was torturous), nor the foot massage (which was skilled and not as bad).
I had essentially been given a harem. 6-10 women, all doting on me, flirting with me, telling me how handsome I was. Asking if I had a girlfriend. I said "yes." Was it serious? Where was she? Was she Thai? Did I want a Thai girlfriend? They wanted Farang husbands... Did I like them? Did I like the lady-boy in the back? What about the man to my left?
"No, no thank you. Yes, we're very serious. You are just as beautiful but I love her more."
Finally, they offered me a place to sleep. I would be sharing a tent with someone's son, who looked none to pleased, but he seemed to be a generally angsty teenager and not upset about this particular situation, just life in general. So, I said yes, if it was okay with him.
I awoke the next morning, trapped by the sleeper. I waited for him to shift so that I could crawl around him, and hobbled to the nearest chair where I sat for about an hour. One of the white men, who I learned were from Norway, was still awake with one of the women. They were enjoying a breakfast of beer and potato chips. Eventually I made my way to their table, and was trapped once again.
"Are you okay? Foot better?"
"No, I need crutches, where can I get crutches?"
No further discussion. Forced to drink coke and eat potato chips. I was asked several times throughout the morning if I was hungry, if I was better. If I said yes, I'm hungry, they just smiled. If I said I need to go to the hospital, they just smiled. I didn't want to impose, but I was completely trapped.
The Norwegian tried to convince me not to go to the hospital... to wait it out. Put tiger balm and ice on it and I would be fine. As nice as they were being, I was not excited about being trapped with them for 3-4 days. "No, I need to get crutches."
Later, the other two Norwegians joined the table. One was quiet enough, but the other was visibly upset. Eventually, he went into some sort of tirade, gesturing towards me and saying the word American in between all the Norwegian babble. He got to the point where I though he would cry, or stab me, and then put his hands down and began eating his breakfast and looking hopeless. Definitely not the actions of a stable, rational person. I can only guess that he thought I was imposing, but the way they were treating this family it was hard to take it seriously. They ordered them about like servants, not a single please or thank you as they informed them they wanted breakfast, or more coffee, or this or that. I was certainly the more gracious guest.
Eventually I was told someone would take me to the hospital. With every passing hour I asked "can you just get me a tuk tuk, I'll be fine." No, they insisted, Pi will take you, 10 minutes. 20 minues. 10 minutes. 15 minutes.
Finally, Pi arrived with his wife and they took me to the hospital. I got my x-ray, my ace bandage, some painkillers, and blessedly, crutches. The whole thing cost about 500 baht, 15 dollars. Thank God.
They began to take me back to the house in a tuk tuk and I asked to be dropped off at the bus station. I'd had enough hospitality for one day. Everyone I met was immensely helpful, I made it back to Nong Khai, and made my way to the Mut Mee guest house which had been full the night before, but looked like the type of place I could get some help.
The owner (a farang) was wonderful. He called a guest house nearby and got me a room. Two other guests offered to carry my bag for me and accompanied me to the Ruang Thai. The people at the guest house looked shocked. The owner of the Mut mee hadn't told them about the crutches, the room they had was on the second floor.
I said I could manage, but they insisted otherwise and arranged a first floor room for me, helped me carry my bags. I would have to move the next day, but again, they would help me. I laid down for a bit, ate, took my painkiller, and finally felt better.
That's only half of it!
To be Continued!!!
Friday, October 19, 2007
Some New Sights
Yesterday I found myself in a new part of Bangkok. Essentially it is of very little interest to tourists, but I was there to interview for a "just in case JP education turns out to be totally whack" job. I got the job, paying a little less than the great one I turned down but also working alot less... In general, though, I wasn't impressed with the school or the headmaster (who's only criterion for hiring seemed to be that I had a legitimate master's degree...)
Anyway, after I left the Interview I wandered around and snapped some pictures... Earlier in the day I went to the amulet market (for the second time) with "Mr. Canadian," as I like to call him. He was dressed in a bright red hat (with the Canadian maple leaf), a bright red shirt (with the Canadian maple leaf) and was wearing shorts which showed off his bright red Canadian maple leaf tattoo... very stunning. Below are some pictures of my journeys.
First in the day was the amulet market, Which begins on a street
running along a Wat and continues and spreads along the river.
One of the larger amulet stalls. Amulets come in all shapes and sizes. Usually once you purchase one you also purchase a plastic circular container and a cord to hang it around your neck with....
For lunch I ate at one of the many vegetarian stalls around right now. There is a Thai-Chinese holiday (which has a handful of origin legends) during which Thai-Chinese eat vegetarian and a vast array of vegetarian-only food stalls can be found around the city. They each fly red and yellow banners letting prospectives know they can find all vegetarian fare here.
Later in the day, I found myself in the cleaner upscale business district...
and found the face of fear.
Later on I met "Mr. Yes" who seemed nice enough...
Until I found him stalking me.
This picture is in honour of my friend Daniel. I have often heard him speak about the "white hats" at construction sites. The bosses who don't do much work themselves but always expect you to look busy... By the looks of their clothes, it seems that some things are universal...
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
And...
Leaving Ko Chang...
And some "Magic Lamps" that seem to be popular in Thailand (at least for the tourist sections...). You essentially buy a jigsaw kit and construct them to your liking... I may have to get a few kits before I come home, if I can find them cheap (so far they're around 20 bucks for a pack of pieces, and I have no idea how much of a lamp that would make...
Even the gas stations on the highways have markets here. Of course, there was the standard "mini mart" one would expect, but surrounding it was a market of delicious street food. This was on the way from Cambodia to Bangkok.
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