TAXI RIP OFFS, SO ANGRY

I AM SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW. OH MY GOSH.

Today has been a terrible day for transportation. L and I tried going to Paragon to get our shop on but the traffic on the freeway was so bad that after sitting in one spot for 20 minutes, with the fare steadily increasing, our driver and others reversed out of the traffic and onto the faster part of the highway so that we could be dropped off at a BTS to then walk to our destination.

Think that was bad? No. NO. Just now, after watching "Avatar" for the second time, but this time in 3D at the Paragon Cineplex, we got a taxi back. I wish I could elaborate more about how much I adore that movie, but my anger is presiding over that sentiment right now. Anyway, our ride back normally costs 130 baaht MAX, seriously MAX. But this cab driver decided to play dumb and take the longest route possible. I did not recognize any of the landmarks and I have taken this route back many times before. To make matters considerably worse, the meter was RIGGED and the fare increased every 2 seconds, I timed it. I was getting so angry during the drive that I muttered that my father is in the mafia to try and deter him from his evil ways, but he didn't hear me and even if he did, he didn't understand English -- er, "he didn't understand English." UGH.

A ride that should have cost 130 baaht cost 277 baaht by the time we arrived at our apartment.

I. was./am. fuming.

I know it's not a smart decision for two foreign girls to get in an argument with a Thai taxi driver who knows where you live, but I couldn't help it; I do NOT like being taken advantage of especially when you now that the other party knows what he is doing but acts stupid, which is exactly what this guy did. I yelled at him for a good five minutes about how he took the wrong way; the price he was charging us was exorbitant; and that we should go by the KM charge, which was like 180 baaht (still too much). But he just played dumb the whole time.

He acknowledged that his meter was broken but "he no know!" And that "he meter, he meter!" Right, I'm sure you metered it but you RIGGED your meter. BS. Complete BS. He was acting like my 9th grade students who act like they have no idea what I'm saying, but I know they're just too lazy to speak in English and act dumb. At one point I remember him saying "I need money." Ya, and so do I.

I am still fuming. I stayed outside on the curb after he dropped us off and I paid the lesser amount of the half I supposedly owed (Linnea gave in a paid the difference, which I can't say I'm grateful for because I almost wish she had held her ground too...someone needs to show them they can't keep taking advantage of farangs) and glared him down and pretended like I was memorizing his plate number so I could call and complain. I wanted to go Avatar on him and shoot a bow-and-arrow through the car window, straight into his scheming chest.

I HATE that these taxi drivers have the upper hand on foreigners, especially as women. It's scary to know that all these random guys know where we live so we're at a disadvantage when our modes of transportation rip us off like tonight. I get particularly angry because I'm on a tight budget as a teacher here who wants to travel. I can't go around dishing out all this cash every time I need to get home!

Need to do something to calm myself down. This is just unacceptable. "Mai Pen Rai" (Whatever/No Worries/Hakuna Matata) just won't cut it right now.

Pollution

I don't want to complain, but I'm going to justifiably complain. The pollution here has really started affecting my health. It's a factor of Bangkok that I was prepared for but also of which I was frightened because I really despise dirty air and loud vehicles (the latter is one of my biggest pet peeves).

I'm located about 30 minutes south of Bangkok in an industrial area. My apartment is right under the highway. I am greeted in the morning by a thick brown-ish haze, the thickness of which is highlighted by the sun's unrelenting rays. It's utterly disgusting (and I mutter that probably every day, by the way). I step out into the street with a grimace and try to hold my breath as I close my eyes when trucks, motorbikes, and cars barrel down the street, put-put-putting and spewing black smoke straight into the faces of pedestrians like yours truly.

I dislike exercising outdoors. Hell, I sort of dislike being outside near the street. Anyway, back at home, I'd rarely get sick, even though Los Angeles's air isn't of the best quality either. But here, I've experienced a scratchy throat on multiple occasions; my eyes get dry and red; and lately, I've been coughing - no, heaving - up stuff from the depths of my lungs.

I could very well be getting sick from being around all my snotty and dirty children (PS - the students' bathrooms at school don't have soap. WHY.), but I doubt it because my other friends here have also experienced similar symptoms. One of my friends, Jo, got an eye infection and had to get eye drops because they were so swollen and red (a similar thing happened to a kid I knew at USC who moved from Australia and wasn't used to LA's pollution). Yuck.

This is literally one of the biggest reasons why I feel compelled to escape the city every-two-weeks and relax on the beach. Fresh air!

Oh, speaking of which, I'm going to Phuket and Pi Pi tomorrow for a week for the holidays. Joy!

Christmas - the Buddhist Way

Everyone's been asking me if Thais celebrate Christmas. The answer is: sort of. Sort of because Christmas is more of a commercial event here, and with the bjillion mega-malls there are in Bangkok, it's safe to say that Christmas really is all around, with the blaringly cheery music, Starbucks's Christmas-beverage-line, and monstrously erected Christmas trees and odd decorations (the other day we saw a snowflake with Barbie dolls pinned all over it) that all Thais pose in front of with their classic “peace” signs (how fitting, for once!).

At the entrance of my town are Christmas lights and festive sayings, so at least it's something. When I say “Christmas”, my students say either “Santa Claus”, “reindeer”, or they sing “Jingle Bells” in an unintelligible language that is definitely not English but, according to Pe Tuk, not Thai either, because there is no Thai version of “Jingle Bells.” However, they have no idea what Christmas actually means; after all, Jesus does not exist in Buddhism – but then again, I'd say the majority of people around the world don't either (or, they don't choose to acknowledge it).

Regardless, I've already received some presents from my students, ranging from a Lipitor flier (LOL that was a hilarious one), to braided ribbons (below), to cookies, to stale donuts from none other than Mister Donut himself (no, kidding, it was from a kindergarten teacher), to a hugely wrapped gift from my 3/2 class, whose homeroom teacher presented to me today. It's a light on a frog stand (I just opened it)!!! It was very sweet. =)

This past Monday, I wore lent reindeer antlers to the morning assembly as I recited a speech that was written for me, and this morning, I spoke about the colors of Christmas. Below I will write the original transcript of what they wanted me to say -- typos and all. You'll understand how confused I was when the script landed on my desk; the English makes no sense at all and it took me a long time to edit it (and I'm usually pretty good at editing) because I didn't want to alter the speech's true saying.

Student: Good morning teachers and friends. It's closer time to Cristmas day in next week. When we talk about Cristmas day, what do you think of it? Ms. Kristina will introduce what people thinking on Cristmas day.

Kristina: Cristmas day is the celebration day to Yesucrist was born. At first mostly people twill think to Christmas tree. Second is Santa Claus. The third is Jingle bells song and colors. The forth is Raindeer. Finally is Christmas card to bless to anyone you respect or love.

On Wednesday, I am to speak of the meaning of the colors of Christmas. In class, I've been teaching simple sentences like “Santa says 'Ho Ho Ho!'”, “Reindeer runs”, and “Snowman melts”, to which the students act out the sentences. They're also making Christmas cards...very simple ones, that is.

Thursday is Christmas eve. Pi Aoy wants us to go to the temple to celebrate Christmas with her, which I want to do just to experience such an oxymoronic event, haha, and then Linnea and I will probably attend the 11pm service at Christ Church in Bangkok.

HO HO HO, children.

Crisis of Communication: Pi Aoy

One of the most endearing but equally as frustrating factors of being a foreigner in Thailand is my inability to communicate. I've learned some key words and phrases, like the names of food and words to direct a taxi driver, but other than that, I stare as blankly to most Thais as many of my students do to me.

Pi Aoy is the lunch lady and she has become quite fond of Linnea and me. She speaks minimal English but that doesn't hold her back from attempting to talk to us. She's a very vivacious and expressive 30-something who wears her poorly dyed hair in scrunchies and frequents how "chuh-beeeee" she is while slamming her palms onto her belly fat (to which we respond, "Whatttt?! Noooo.") and points to Linnea that she is "skih-neeee!" (to me she says nothing. haha.).

What gets frustrating is that we can't understand 98% of what she's saying because she keeps talking in Thai despite our silences and raised eyebrows. The remaining 2% is her English, but oftentimes it takes us about two minutes to comprehend a word because the accent is way off (i.e. the movie "Avatar" = "Aaah-wahhh-taahhh". Imagine how difficult it was to understand.) And then she looks at us, expecting an answer, and when we are like "Sorry! Um..mai kao jai, I don't understand! No understand!", she jokingly scowls at us.

With that said, it's pretty amazing that Linnea and I have been able to hang out with Pi Aoy and her friend, Pi Pen, twice for dinner. Pi Pen speaks about five words in English. Our meals are hilarious because they speak rapidly in Thai; we speak hesitantly and slowly. It's an expressive meal, too. Linnea and I flail our arms about and our faces are hilariously expressive. The four of us usually end up "talking" about the food they've ordered for us (Translation: we point to a dish. They say the name. We nod and go "ohhhh!" and attempt to pronounce it. They laugh at us. We laugh. Repeat X4 because they order a ton of food for us.)

Usually when Pi Aoy (right, above) says something to us, Linnea and I nod our heads as if we understand, then turn to each other and mutter, "Did you catch any of that?" "Nope." We joke now that having a conversation with Pi Aoy is one of the most exhausting parts of our day, but she has been one the friendliest staff members at Amnuayvidhya to us. She constantly showers us with gifts and is never afraid to get chatty!

In a way, it's good to have a friendly Thai speak to us in her native tongue as we do to our students. It puts us in our students' shoes and reminds us to speak clearly and use other means of communication to convey a point, because the most simple message could easily get lost in translation with this immense language barrier.

I will own at charades by the time I get back home.

Feminism in Food

Masculine food I've spotted here:

Mr. SF
Mr. San's babies
(sorry I haven't figured out how to rotate pics yet)



Mr. Bun
There's also a Mister Donut


THAILAND, what's up with this. Where are the Misses?!

(But that doesn't mean their goods aren't delicious!)

Bewitched; it's love.

Right now, I'd like to quote Mr. Darcy from “Pride and Prejudice” when he says at the end of the movie to the lovely Keira Knightley: “You bewitch me – mind, body, and soul.” And how every woman sighs a romantic sigh as she bracingly clutches her heart when she hears that line, I sigh a bittersweet sigh whenever I pause and reflect on my experience here.

Thailand has bewitched my mind, body, and soul.

At this point, I can easily confess that I love the Thailand that I've gotten to know. During my first month here, I was having fun and appreciating my experience, but I was still slightly homesick and would sometimes think about life back at home: how much I missed it, how happy I'll be to be back, etc. But something recently changed; I woke up one morning after Koh Samet and realized how hard I'm falling for this place.

It's hard to live in the present, for when I'm in it and am having the time of my life, I only think about the future and how much I'll miss this current life I'm leading. Does that make sense?

When I look at my students or pictures of my students, I get nostalgic and start missing them, even though I'm currently teaching them. I see them every day in the halls but am getting attached to their cheery greetings and how they'll drop everything they're doing just to run outside and yell “TEACHAH!” down the hall if they catch a glimpse of me. I'm getting attached to their exuberant cheers and the applause by which I'm greeted when I enter their classrooms. Attached to their high-fives, stickers, hugs (so many hugs), smiles; getting attached to singing “I want nobody, nobody but YOU!” by the Wondergirls (a famous song in Thailand right now) with my kiddos, and training them to do the “cha-cha-cha” whenever I say the word, “dance!” The other day after school, I witnessed the 2^nd and 3^rd graders practicing their dance for our upcoming Sport Day in January (these girls can dance, by the way, wow! Danger...haha). They are SO adorable shakin' their “thangs”, clapping and sweating as their braids bounce up and down, that I got teary-eyed at the thought of leaving them. Already they've taught me the importance of patience and not taking life too seriously (no one likes an angry teachahhh!). Let loose, have fun, and smile. I will miss them so when my five months are up.

Each week here flies by. If time here were the equivalent of an animal, it'd be a hummingbird, for it zooms about and pauses for a brief few moments – suspended in time as it forces you to think and reflect, as traveling/living by yourself often makes you do – but then it's moving, moving, moving once again. The past few weekends have been some of the most exciting of my life; the constant traveling and seeing new things with just one other (cool) person (Linnea) is liberating, exciting, eye-opening, refreshing, introspective, and fun. I get a high from it. On a Saturday/Sunday at home, I might read three chapters of a book, run, go to church, eat a good meal, watch a movie, spend time with friends and family (which is always awesome), and sleep in. Nothing special, nothing too boring, nothing too exciting.

But consider this: I write this post on a Sunday night back at my apartment in Phra Padaeng. Yesterday morning I woke up in this same apartment, left for Kanchanaburi (3 hours away), arrived, rode bikes in the countryside, visited a museum and war cemeteries, explored a cave, hiked to 7 different waterfalls, came back to Bangkok, and then sat in on a Swedish Lucia/Christmas festival. All within two days, one night. Brother Time must be impressed with how Linnea and I have made use of him during our travels.

There's still so much that I want to do while I'm here and I'm getting nervous at the thought of how little time I have left. In the meantime, I will continue to let myself fall in love with Thailand and all its natural wonder, historical stupor, personable charm, and culinary surprises. I'll continue to get lost in appreciative reflection during long bus rides overlooking Thailand's majestic mountains, greenery, and snaking rivers. I'll gladly continue to contentedly nap – full with fresh mango juice and papaya – under palm trees and the blanket of the sun, on Thailand's breathtaking beaches. Everything's awesome. Any foolish doubt that I may have had when entering this program and choosing Thailand over, say, a country in South America (I still really want to go there, though!), has been erased. I'm so glad I chose to teach, for it has been one of the most enriching parts of my experience here.

I fall asleep many nights thinking to myself, “if I died right now, I would die happy.” I'm blessed to have a supportive family and this fortunate opportunity. Not everyone can afford to do this, but I wish they could. Traveling with an open mind is the best education and the easiest way to fall in love with life.

Sunflower Field, Lopburi

Yesterday was Constitution Day, so in addition to having Monday off this past week, we also got Thursday off. It broke the week up pretty awkwardly in terms of work, but it's all good because L and I went to Lopburi to see the sunflower fields, which stop blooming in December/January! Tor, our Thai friend here, graciously drove us and took us to a delicious dinner after.

If you recall, I went to Lopburi a few weeks ago to see the monkey festival. While that was surreal in a crazy way, being in these sunflower fields was surreal in a dreamlike way. Pictures for proof:


We went during sunset and the pictures turned out fine (more importantly, the petals were still open!), but apparently they're more beautiful during sunrise. But Lopburi is a 1.5 hour drive away from BKK Central, so that wasn't going to happen.

I know, the pictures seem fake and the backdrop seems like it's from a Windows desktop, but the flowers are real. They're really real.

Who knew that Thailand has sunflower fields? This country continues to pleasantly surprise and amaze me every day. :)

KOH SAMET <3

It was paradise.

If I ever meet the King of Thailand, I must remember to thank him for being born and affording me this three-day weekend, during which Linnea, Stacy, and I took the four hour trip south to the beautiful, relaxing, heavenly island, Koh Samet.

Jetted out of Central BKK after work on Friday and four hours later, situated ourselves in the port town of Baan Phe, ready to tackle the ferry to Samet the next day. By Saturday 11am, we were on the island, but with no accommodation plans, took to finding a place to stay (kind of an important task). We secured TuTu for Saturday night and Jep's Bungalow's for Sunday night. Prices were higher than normal because it was a holiday weekend, but I'd rather not discuss that.

What I would like to discuss is the “agenda” we followed for the next three days.

8:30am – Wake up. Early, it seems, for being on vacation, but hello? Why sleep in a mosquito-ridden bungalow when you could sleep on the BEACH instead.

9am – Jep's Bungalow's buffet breakfast on the beach. Croissants, wheat toast, Thai noodles and rice and curry, Chinese porridge – all while the waves lap mere inches away from your front-row table and as your toes wiggle in the sand. I felt a bit hot because I chose a seat facing the sun, so I took a bite out of my toast and jumped into the water for a minute, then sat back down to finish my meal. Um, amazing.

10am – Walk one minute away, order $1 beach chair/umbrella/table, and start basking away.

11am – Oh, look. The fresh fruit vendor is walking right past me. I'll get a $1 plate of fresh, fresh, fresh, delicious, AMAZING papaya and snack on it as I read.

12pm – Nod off to The Beach Boys's “Kokomo” on your ipod as the sound of waves gently crashing in the background lull you to sleep. Wake up, swim in the perfectly blue water. Float and let the sun wrap its rays around you. No matter what they say, you are a sea otter.

1pm – Massage on the beach. One hour for 200 baaht (a little over $6). Ignore the publicness of the massage and you'll be fine zoning out as you're pounded into blissful submission.

2pm – The vendor with the fresh som tum (papaya salad) just walked by. Get some (50 baaht = $1.50).

3 pm – The vendor with the MANGOES walked by. Best mangoes I've ever had. Sooooo juicy and sweet and tender. Ahhhhhh.

3:30pm – Chat with the Swedes who just settled in the cabana next door. They tell you they're getting tattoos on the island tomorrow. Kinda crazy. Lounge and swim some more. Ponder as you look out into the horizon (sigh!).

4pm – Afternoon snack @ Jep's Bungalow's Restaurant. Peter Pan, the waiter there, might take a liking to your group as he did to ours, and he'll chat you up. Good french fries there, by the way, and garlic bread and coconut shake. Oh, the chicken pita sandwich is great as well.

6pm – Walk to Ao Phae, the west side of the island that's known for its sunset. Cool pictures.

7pm – Dinner at Pray Talay or Ploy, where you sit on cushions on the beach and eat delicious seafood. Fireworks will light up the sky, as will the fire dancers who perform right on the water's edge. Unfortunately, not many stars to be seen.

8pm – Roti with nutella & bananas, or a crepe. Perhaps ice cream. Stroll along the water's edge and watch as couples give in to the tourist trap and purchase a lantern to light up and let float away for good luck. Live band in the background. Romanticallllll.

10pm – Perhaps a beer, perhaps some dancing at the lively restaurants/bars that were so chill during the day.

11pm – If not catching up with friends at Jep's one last time, sleep. Drift off to sleep and believe that if you died then, you'd die happy. Tan and happy. :)

(Repeat X3)

//

Samet is like going home when you're in college. It's your time to get away from the hectic and crazy nature of Bangkok. No more stuffiness or pollution. Just clear thoughts and things you know and love, like the gentle, motherly sun; healthy food and fresh fruit; plenty of relaxation and sleep. Reading for pleasure – something you rarely do at school or in the midst of your busy work life. You get antsy with nothing to do for the first day or so, but then as you settle back into this “routine” of doing nothing, you dread going back to your work life and try to soak in as much of this new home as possible. Indulging in the food, the sand, the sun, the water. Knowing you're in paradise.

This weekend helped me get over my “homesick hump”, a period of time I believe everyone experiences to truly appreciate their new life in a foreign place. It's made me so excited to go back (I'm already having withdrawals) and explore more of the beautiful places Thailand has to offer.

Samet has so far been my favorite.

Life's a beach.

"Long Live the King" & Cruisin the Chao Praya

December 5^th marks the King's birthday, and celebrate Thailand does. During the week leading up to his birthday, carnivals and posters of the King & his wife were erected and hung around towns. Tagged on taxis and cars were “Long Live the King!” slogans. We got Monday off of school to honor his birthday. I heard the Thais went even more “all out” than in previous years, particularly because the King is ill and currently hospitalized.

The King is like a god here, so much so that on his birthday, Thais also celebrate Father's Day. I heard that the Grand Palace would be decked out in dazzling offerings to His Majesty and that it was a sight worth checking out, but I never got around to it.

What I did do during the week leading up to the King's birthday, though, included teaching action verbs at school (oh boy) and then taking pictures of the students with their Father's Day crafts. My favorite one is below:

[drats. i must rotate it, but it says "he is tall. he is fat. i love father." haha! my student's hilarious.]

On Friday, the day before the King's birthday, our school hosted an assembly during which the hundreds of Thai kids bowed, chanted, and prayed to an enlarged poster of the King while teachers and admins gave offerings to him. It was quite incredible because Americans would never do such a thing.

[us with Chawewa, Amnuayvidhya's Head Mistress]

I learned a lot about the King while browsing a gallery of info posters that the Thai teachers had made about the King. Why his country reveres, worships, and loves him so became quite understandable to me, because he is a genius and quite the role model. Taking the throne in his twenties, the King accomplished much in both his personal and public life, from learning to play three instruments (guitar, piano, saxophone); sailing in his free time; writing three books (can you imagine!); drawing and painting; taking care of his dogs; introducing radio communications to his country; and implementing systems to improve agriculture and sustainability, among many others. I'm too lazy right now to check how old he turned, but he's in his 80s, and, as mentioned, is hospitalized due to old age. He has a son who is positioned to take the throne.

I got to see where the King is hospitalized on Thursday, when Linnea, Joanna, Tor, and I went on a dinner cruise around the Chao Praya river at night. It's a pretty big thing for tourists to do and I highly recommend it! Our three-hour cruise was peaceful and the night air was absolutely perfect. Tor arranged for us to sit on the top deck level so we had full-on views of the Grand Palace, Wat Arun, the King's hospital, and the majestic Chao Praya bridge, all of which were splendidly lit up. Adding to the night were the live music, traditional Thai dancers, and of course, the food. There were rolls (ooh, carbs that aren't rice or noodles!)!

Thursday was also great because I got to see my best friend, Kimmy's, mom, Mrs. Ishikawa! She's in Thailand on a family trip and stopped by with a gift from home. Luckily she's Thai and owned a restaurant, so when she took me out to dinner, she knew the right things to order. :)

Nay a turkey, many a monkey: Thanksgiving & Lopburi

Well, we tried.

A traditional Thanksgiving in Thailand is not only hard to come by, it's also expensive. Because my CIEE friends and I did not want to fork out $30+ for a Thanksgiving buffet at one of the pish-poshy Western hotels in Central Bangkok, nor did we trust the food in the American expat bars/pubs (um, where did they get that turkey?), we ended up eating Middle Eastern food on "Soi Arab" at the Nana BTS stop. That's how you do a non-Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving dinner in Thailand.

I got Iraqi kabobs and plenty of naan & hummus.
Nothing wrong with that meal, for it was delicious, but there were two MAJOR bummers on my Thai Thanksgiving:

1) No pumpkin pie. It's arguably one of my most favorite T-giving dishes; Joanna and I vowed to find a slice - any slice - but at 10pm, in Bangkok, our valiant search and desperate wanderings around Sukhumvit proved fruitless. We settled for McDonald's. I got a vanilla cone.

[even though the sheraton bangkok displayed our Amerrrican flag in an ice sculpture, lol, it will never be as american as it tried to be. why? no pumpkin pie.]

2) I really missed my family. I've never spent the holidays away from home but somewhat masochistically used this fact as a way to challenge myself by signing up to go on this program. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I guess I might have wanted to prove my own independence and personal strength by being away from my loved ones when I knew I'd miss them most.

Now, I know I am learning and growing from this experience, but seeing my whole family - my cousins from SF and LA, along with my aunts, uncles, brothers, and parents - crowded around the screen as I Skyped with them, made me so entirely homesick and teary. Sniff! Though it's only been a few months since I've been gone, the physical absence of my family and friends in my life has already made me appreciate them ten-fold. I love them and fully realize that they are integral to my happiness. Unfortunately distance is sometimes the only way to truly make one realize these precious treasures in life.

(To help you understand how close I am to my family, my aunt later told me that when asking her 2 year-old daughter what the highlight of Thanksgiving was, she said, despite seeing her cousins and the delicious food, mind you, that "the best part was seeing Kwistina on the compooter!" So presh.)

//

Now for the less sappy stuff: Lopburi.

Lopburi is a city that's north of BKK by about 3 hours by bus. It's overrun by monkeys because some settler brought them over one day, the monkeys did their monkey thang and bred, took over the wats/shrines, became too comfortable with the human inhabitants, and now, run wild along the sidewalks & streets; hang above pedestrians as they dangle on telephone wires; jump on unwilling passerbys; and steal peoples' food.

I witnessed all of this.


We went during the last weekend of November, during which L-buri hosts its annual monkey festival. Indeed, they bring out plates and plates of food for the monkeys to gorge themselves. The locals do not believe in harming the animals and thus use this festival as a way to celebrate and thank them for their good luck, or charm, or...good looks, I have no idea.

[s/he's like james dean. monkey style. classy.]

Well, after a three hour bus ride, Linnea and I arrived and spent about an hour photographing the bizarre city. I gave a monkey my coconut smoothie (but quickly ran away, don't worry, Mom!). A monkey jumped on Linnea's back, poor thing (she hates animals), at the monkeys' main wat-haunt. We sheepishly dodged monkey poo that littered the streets. We witnessed many a monkey mating on the sidewalk (I'll admit, I giggled like an immature 7th grade boy). We tried to cover all items resembling food as we tip-toed cautiously through the streets and saw the lanky fellows watching us from above the stores, perched on hotel balconies, trapezing along telephone wires.

[goodbye, delicious and freshly made, 50 cent coconut smoothie.]

They literally run around the city like stray dogs. So weird. Lopburi will forever rank as one of my most surreal and bizarre experiences in life - and that beats bike riding alongside elephants, holding a tiger, and snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef with a fish that was the size of my upper torso.

Other than the monkeys, we spent time with a TON of other CIEE folks, who incidentally wanted to experience monkey mania and headed down to Lopburi as well. That was nice. We did not get to see the sunflower fields for which Lopburi is also famous, but we'll go back in December.

Oh, the adventures. MORE TO COME, for the King's birthday is this Saturday. Off to go blast Madonna's "Holiday"! Toodles.

God Bless Plumbers

The bathroom in my apartment is a wet mess. It's a small room with a manual-flush toilet and no actual tub for a shower. Just a drain in the corner of the flat tile surface and a shower head that sprays directly onto my John. It's really not that bad, but let's be honest: Thais need some help with engineering.
I must dip a bucket into a bin of water and then pour that water into the toilet in order to manually flush it. Water (clean) sloshes everywhere, all over my toilet seat, all over the floor, all over my feet. Wet mess.

I refuse to use the sink, which is outside, because if I go out there, I will let bugs into my room, I will see and smell the pleasant view that resembles a river-sewer outside, and, of course, the high school next door (which hosts band practice like, every day until 7pm, making it impossible to nap, by the way), would have a perfect view of me in all my morning glory if I were to use that sink outside.

Thus, I use the shower head in my inside bathroom to do everything from wash my hands, brush my teeth, wash my face. But that usually means water all over my legs and all over the floor. Wet mess.

So imagine the sick little chuckle I gave when I found that the puny drain in the corner was not doing its duty and sucking the wet mess away from my bathroom. And, not only was the drain not um, draining, it was PUMPING water into my bathroom.

Brown water decorated with clumps of hair and...lettuce. Soggy lettuce and rising water in my bathroom (I'm still hoping that the lettuce pieces were the extras from someone's dinner, not from someone's stomach. Ew.).

I first became aware of this dilemma a few days ago when I'd see remnants of dirt on my bathroom floor, and sometimes a bit of water from the drain. Curious, but nothing too bad. But today, while laughing at candid/tabloid-esque pictures of a drunkenly dancing Katie Couric (see Huffington Post...hilarious!) on my bed, I was jolted to consciousness as a disgusting smell crept up into the depths of my unwilling nostrils.

It registered. The water. It was back.

Okay, watery mess? Try swamp. The water had risen a good four-five inches. It was 10:15pm and I didn't want to wake my sweet landlord, Apple (yes, that's her name. Oh, and while we're on the subject of fruit-names, I also have a student named Orange Peel. Lol, seriously.), so I spent 30 minutes crouching down in The Swamp with my pink, $3 crocs on, scooping the water with my bucket-for-toilet-flushing, into the toilet.

I almost started singing Cinderella songs.

And then it got ridiculous. The water was not retreating or being sucked back into that hole. Terrible thoughts and scenarios were playing through my head. I envisioned a real life snake slithering up through my drain, Harry Potter style. I imagined dead geckos floating everywhere. Worst of all, I imagined mosquitoes mysteriously living in this domestic swamp and using me as food (see previous post for why this thought terrifies me). I had to stop the living nightmares, so I called Apple's emergency number. I didn't care what time it was (10:45pm).

Her husband came over with his wire and snake, enlisted the help of two Thai guys (WHERE did they come from?), who monitored the sketchy sitch outside at the output of my pipe, and fixed my drain. The cause? Hair, toothpaste, and dental floss. Damned be the previous tenants.

[Apple's hubby. You're my hero!]

Anyway, God. Bless. Plumbers.

The trickling of water running so sweetly down a drain has never sounded better.

[Oh, this is my room, by the way. Small but cozy.]

Lady Boy Confusion

Linnea and I, yesterday night, on the curb of the bustling Sukhumvit street: two farang girls with their heads tilted to the side, eyes squinted as the traffic stopped and went in the background, trying to decipher where to go as our arms stretched wide to open our BKK map, fingers pointing every which way, frowns highlighted by the neon restaurant signs, mouths agape. It was just after dinner at a pub (we were craving Western food again) on Soi 11.

A group of about four amused American men standing next to us asked us if we need help, and we just started laughing.

"Do you even want to know where we're trying to go?!" I blushed.

We were trying to see the lady boys.

[right? "nooo way", i said it, too.]

Lady boys are ubiquitous in this very accepting and Buddhist Thai culture. I'm sure I pass by them daily, but there have only been a few times when I've actually known that the woman, right there, was definitely not born a woman. You see, lady boys make a ton of money in Thailand through its sex and cabaret industry. So, they'll start "the transformation," if I may, at a young age, going at surgical lengths to appear more feminine. The operations on these mens' adam's apples, breasts, hair, face, and more have paid off, though, for when L an I actually walked down "NaNa", one of the streets that's notorious for lady boys, I literally could only pick out maybe three lady boys of all the women/"women" I passed on the streets and in the bars (and there were many).

A frightening thought hit me as we were walking, somewhat dissappointedly (we thought it'd be much more of a scene! It really just looked like a normal street with bars and restaurants!), and you may laugh at me if you want. But I thought "Oh my gosh, everyone here thinks I'm Thai...I HOPE NO ONE THINKS I'M A LADY BOY!"

"Alright, stop being melodramatic," I told myself, "but truth be told, I guess that might not be a bad thing if people ever did think I was a lady boy. I mean, they've normally got muscular and toned bodies, and come on, many of them are very beautiful, very convincing..."

Just then, Linnea was quick to end my internal conversation as she made me realize that I possess one quality that could never, ever let me be mistaken for a lady boy: my butt's too big.

Oh, right. Yay?

Filthy Bloodsuckers

There are two types of bloodsuckers that have recently made celebrity appearances in my life. While both of these said bloodsuckers attack, only one of them has had the honor of doing so onto me.

These bloodsuckers are The Cullen Family (vampires in the recent tween hearththrob book/movie "Twilight") and...mosquitoes.

Now, while I'd looooove to be attacked by a member of the Cullen family (particularly one whose name starts with an E and ends with a Dward), rather than merely watch him and his gllllooorious werewolf counterpart on the big screen (as I did yesterday @ the Paragon Cineplex during the "New Moon" premiere, which was UH-MAZING!!!) I unfortunately have been a victim to some vicious and very hungry mosquitoes in the past few days.

[AHHHH we turned into little girls!!!]

I don't get it. When it was scorching and humid outside, I didn't get bit at all by mosquitoes. But when the temp dropped a good 5+ degrees in the past few days (it's not "cold" by any means, though), and when these little buggers are supposed to cease in biting, my poor legs, arms, and neck got annihilated - so much so that the bites (12, I counted) swelled up, got really hot and red and puffy and callous (it's a condition called celulitis, btw. Not to be confused with cellulite!), started throbbing, and made walking/standing a very painful ordeal. After some Googling, I found out that those who react in this extreme manner to mosquito bites have a condition called "Skeeter Syndrome."

Why can't I be normal and be allergic to, oh, I don't know, dust?

So, because of this two-day mutilation (really, my ankle looks deformed now...see below), I was forced to cancel my weekend island trip to Koh Samet. I mean, I couldn't even stand up for more than 20 seconds without the pain shooting through the bite area and through my legs.

[that is wrong]

Filthy bloodsuckers. Wait! Edward, I didn't mean that...

(Omg that was so lame. Although for the record, I'm kind of a Jacob fan.)

Temperments of a Teacher

I'm sitting in the teachers' lounge at approximately 2:30pm, merely minutes after I've ended my fifth and final class of the day. Wednesday is always my toughest day. It starts out fine, great, actually, with my Matayom 3 (9th graders) class, but then progressively gets crazier, louder, and more mind-numbing as I end the day teaching four almost back-to-back fourth grade classes.

I don't know how teachers survive a year if they get put with a "bad class", or a class with naughty kids (boys, normally). It's a struggle for me to get through three of mine today, and I only see them once a week.

How do teachers (especially and particularly elementary teachers) keep their calm and their smiles, emitting love and care to their wild students in an effort to help them learn? How do teachers communicate with their foreign students, all of whom are young, without raising their voices? I know the students act rowdier and are more boisterous when I teach them because it's their one chance to play games, but I don't know how to control them. They don't listen to me. I never thought I'd have to resort to physical violence, but I'm forced to say that there have definitely been times when I've shoved kids, grabbed them by the arm (mid-jump, or mid-run, or mid-punch, ugh), and today I did some things I thought I'd never have to do! I took someone's ruler and held it up in the air so it seemed I was going to hit the naughty ones. I also made a boy stand up, I removed his backpack from his heavy wooden chair, then I raised the chair up a little bit and slammed it down loudly and harshly on the floor to make them all listen up. I kicked a boy out and made him stand outside for like 10 minutes. I legit glared at students and gave them attitude. I shook my head at the four boys sitting in the corner and wagged my finger at them: "BAD. You are bad."

"TEACHAHHH...ANGRY??!!" one girl quizzically asked me.

"YES. I AM ANGRY. "

I have to admit that the next class I resolved not to be as mean. I told myself that the way in which I "acted out" against those who acted out against me (hah) was definitely not WJWD, and I needed to change. They're only kids. However, I can't say that I'm ashamed of my actions because teachers do reach their breaking points (I remember when my fifth grader teacher cussed at us once and when my fourth grade teacher singled me out in front of the class to chastise me and tell me how poorly I was doing in my reading comprehension...yeah, that stung and I'll never forget that. But then again, she was on a power trip...). I'm also not ashamed to talk about this either because people who might come and teach here in the future, without experience, should understand this obstacle they'll encounter.

I don't want to be known as the mean English teacher but I can't let them run wild. Sigh, it's just exhausting (Wednesdays and fourth graders, that is). I now know why "Heads Up 7-Up" was such a popular game back in elementary and middle school: it was a chance for teachers to have their peace and quiet. My mind is swimming right now, and I must modify my lesson plans so I can keep afloat.

//

So much for updating about my previous weekend trip to Ayuttaya (the old capitol of Siam/Thailand). In a nutshell, it was like the Rome of Thailand with wats & temples & ruins every which way. It was historical and grand; the wats were commanding but tragic at the same time. The city used to be the most exquisite site in SE Asia, as its temples were covered in gold, but then fell when Burma ransacked it and stole its treasures and goods.

I climbed temples (my mother would have fainted, the stairs were so narrow and we went up so high!), I visited the main wats, and rode bikes through the pleasant city. Also tried their Muslim dishes, i.e. their famed nam prik (spicy dip, and boy was it spicy!) and roti sai rai (a dessert; sugar strings wrapped in fresh roti...delicious!), as suggested by Lonely Planet. Overall a great weekend. Met fun backpackers, too!

[after climbing the stairs at wat chai wattanaram]


[wat phra sanphet @ sunset. known for its three prangs, shown here]

[wat phra sanphet. these flowers are everywhere!]

[normality is an opinion]

"Where are you from?"

"Where are you from?"

This question is perhaps the most common question I receive from Thais and simultaneously the most complicated to answer. Almost every day I hear "you look Thaiiiii, like meee" as XYZ Thai individual points to his/her face and the color of his/her skin when they find out I can't speak Thai.

I instantly respond, "I'm from Am-er-i-kahhh, Cal-ee-for-ni-aaaa" (always make the last letter longest for them to understand your English).

"Yes, but where are you FROM?"

I then have to follow up with a "My Dad is from Hong Kong, my Mom is from Burma, but I was born in California."

Usually this yields a multitude of responses, ranging from:

1) "Oh, you no speak Thai?" (Nope.)
2) "Oh, you speak Hong Kong?" (Negative, unfortunately. And it's technically "Cantonese", for the record.)
3) "But you no look farang!" (I know, but I am!)

I thought it'd be interesting coming to Thailand as an Asian-American, and I was right. Many of my students have asked me if I speak Thai, and vendors and shopkeepers will automatically rattle off to me in their native tongue. As long as I don't open my mouth, I'm often eligible to receive discounts on services that only Thais receive. So I smile and nod politely, saying "Ka, ka" in blind agreement. However, I usually travel with Linnea, who screams foreigner with her blonde hair. So that automatically negates any opportunity for me to pretend I'm a local.

Whenever I come to Asia, which is not too often but definitely more than others have, I always come back to the States more appreciative of my country's diversity. That, in addition to our freedoms, which we so take for granted, and many of which are nonexistent here in Thailand (i.e. freedom of speech: one could immediately get arrested if s/he speaks poorly about the King), make me so proud to be an American.

The freedoms we have been allotted in America have conditioned us to be outspoken. We know that we can fight for our rights and speak out and against that which we do not believe. We have the opportunity to openly and harshly criticize our government and particularly scrutinize our presidents without fear of punishment. But yet, many of us are nonchalant and indifferent about these issues; we feel like they don't affect us in our own microcosmic worlds. For example, free speech is a right I have always known about but never quite took advantage of. Too busy, too lazy, too not-disturbed to care.

But after being in this country, which praises, lauds, and worships its King & Royal Family, I appreciate this American right even more. Thailand is getting better as a country but has been, and still definitely is, subject to corruption. The Prime Minister is currently doing a pretty good job at stopping what were years of civil war that included acts of bribery, murders, and other such shady business, many of which were operated under the government officials whom people are supposed to trust.

But despite all that Thailand may (or may not) lack, its loyal people still stop whatever they are doing at 6pm when the national anthem is blasted over all methods of public communication. I have stopped running in the park at 6pm to stand still and pay tribute to the King. I have halted my hurried steps in subways, as all other Thais do, when the anthem is playing. All movie-goers stand for the national anthem before any cinematic feature is played. Images of the King and Queen are blown up and tacked up in shops and restaurants. Calendars? Forget the picturesque images of Thai's southern beaches or northern mountains; no, they are pictures of the Royal Family. Scattered in the medians of roads and highways are shrines and posters dedicated to the King and Queen. It's incredibly overwhelming at first, but I am getting used to it.

I was taken aback tonight, though, when L, Drew, and I had dinner at a German brewery called Tawandang Pharam Sam (which was a hoppin' and crowded place!) with our CIEE friends Bubba and Graham (whom we had randomly bumped into at the Suan Lum Night Bazaar Market), and Bubba's Thai cousin.

[how adorable is Bubba?!]

The delicious dinner, which consisted of both Thai and German food (hm, imagine that!), also consisted of live entertainment. Gorgeous, skinny Thai singers belted out to American and Thai pop songs; lady boys frazzled and dazzled their way across the stage to ABBA and "I Will Survive" (L and my next karaoke song, we decided. Lol). But the most elaborate act came at the end of the show, when all the entertainers came on stage in the most glittery costumes as they danced and sang - with such fervor and LOVE - to the national anthem. They raised up pictures of the King and Queen, which were in golden frames (think Lion King status when Rafiki raises up cub-Simba on the rock); two enormous flags created a blanket over the stage as the entertainers made it dance; a screen even was lowered as images of the Royal Family were projected onto it.

[the flag & image of the King on the projector above)

I slowly sipped my heavy but hoppy beer with zombie-like amazement. "This would NEVER happen in America," I said out loud. Can you imagine that? Dancing around pictures of President Bush and Lady Bush? Guffaw, guffaw. Can I get an LOL or what...

//

I have had to meet "Where are you from" with a complicated answer here in Thailand, but most people in America have to do that as well. As Americans, pinpointing and classifying our identities, as humans so love to do, often yields explanations that are difficult and confusing for foreigners in homogeneous countries to understand. But that is a beautiful, beautiful thing, and I'm glad to be a prototype of this diversity.

Ayuttaya with Linnea tomorrow. It's going to be breathtaking.

"Twilight" > "Mundane History"

I just returned from a delicious Mexican dinner with Jo and Linnea, followed by an independent Thai movie with those two + Drew, called “Mundane History,” at the Cineplex at the Siam Paragon.

The Cineplex is classy, gorgeous, sparkling, and one hell-of-a movie theater. The arm chairs are fluffy, red, and recline. The ones in the back of the theater, by the way, are love seats (ooh lala!). I love the people I spent time with tonight. The quality of the Mexican food was almost up-to-par with last weekend's Tex-Mex food, which was delicious, at Charley Brown's restaurant with about 30 other CIEE folks. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I really did finish off my whole plate of Grande Supreme Nachos, which is supposed to be shared (but whatever, how often do I get Mexican food here?). The movie, though, was the most artistically absurd attempt at an indie film that I have ever witnessed.

Not that I'm a master of indie films by any sorts, but I'm telling you, “Mundane History” plays up to its heinous name. Hailed by a film critic (this is what I read off some newspaper article...I don't know who was paying the author to say this) as the World Film Festival's #1 must-see independent film, L and I quickly decided “MH” would be a fantabulous way to introduce ourselves to Thai cinema.

“Who knows, this movie just MIGHT change your life,” we cooed to a skeptical Joanna over dinner, as we tried to convince of her of potential ingeniousness of the film.

Wrong.

I can't really go into the details of the meaning – or even the plot or synopsis – of the film because 1) there really wasn't one; 2) if there was, we didn't quite get it.

But, if I may try, the film is about a handicapped adult (who looks like a teenager, btw) and his caretaker. Scene after scene, we see the caretaker, Pun, change Kuhn Ake's (the adult) soiled bedsheets, give him showers, and meddle in their small talk about how they both love writing. In the meantime, we sometimes get glimpses of Kuhn Ake's workaholic father, with whom he lives, and Pun's other servant friends.

Throughout this film, there were multiple other scenes that stood out to us that made this movie the artistically absurd piece of “work” it is:

1. Three scenes of Kuhn Ake's turtle swimming in its tank.

2. A two-minute gradual zoom-in of the creation of a supernova. No joke, it was two-minutes long. Stars and space. Zoom. Star. Zoom. Ball of fire. Zoom. Slow motion explosion. Zoom. Baby stars. Zoom. Boom: Supernovaaaaaahh.

3. Kuhn Ake in a bathtub, naked, engaging in sexual behavior. This scene lasted for about one minute. Cue actual need for a scene of an (awkward) turtle.

4. A four-minute scene of a C-section operation. At first, I thought the operation was on some random human's back, but then a baby's head popped out. HAHA! And for the following two minutes we watched as nurses sucked the blood and goo out of the baby's nose and ears, with classical music in the background, of course. Oh, and this is how the movie ended.

At the end, I had my hands over my face with a dumbfounded expression written all over me. Joanna turned to me and made the “way over my head” motion with her hand. Linnea was slouched over, puzzled. Drew was already spaced out.

What made matters worse was that we were getting up to leave when a man sprung up two rows in front of us. We looked at him. It was the actor, Kuhn Ake. Apparently there was to be a Q&A session with the director and the film's actors after the movie ended. Jo and I looked at each other, gasped, and put our hands over our mouths. I did so because I was scared he heard or saw our confusion and boredom throughout the movie. Jo was shocked because that was the man whose man junk we had just seen on public full-screen display for a good two minutes.

We tried, after the movie, to interpret it. But to no avail. The best I could do was that this film is a parallel to our experiences here in Thailand: random, the start of something new (supernova), sometimes gross/dirty but beautiful (birthing of baby). But I doubt that's what the director was aiming to portray...

The moral of the story is that Thai cinema is a no-go for me.

//

What IS a go, though, is the upcoming release of “New Moon,” the second movie in the "Twilight" sequel. It comes out November 19^th, next Thursday, and Linnea, Jo, and I are beyond excited. Really, the release of this film was something I took into consideration when I decided to come to Thailand a few months ago. One of the things I said to my friends from PV was, “Oh no, I'm missing the release of 'New Moon'!” Pathetically tweeny, I know.

We posed with the larger-than-life-size cut-outs of Jacob Black, Bella, and Edward, in the Cineplex, directly after we were released from the baffling ordeal that “MH” put us through. Picture to come. Be prepared for the glory (...of Jacob Black. Forget the fact that he's 17 years old for two seconds and revel in how cute he is with me)!

Speaking of “New Moon,” I just wanted to touch upon my lunch with Madame Chong today. She took me to eat Muslim food (vague, I know, but apparently that's the right term for it...) at a local restaurant, and over the saffron rice and cumin-marinated chicken, she told me that she loves reading the Twilight books. Omg, how can you not fall in love with this adorable lady?! She's 48 years old, probably 5'1” or so, is “soft” (as I described previously), and treats me like her own daughter. And then she tells me she loves the Twilight books (the 3^rd book is her favorite, she said she'd lend it to me so that I could try reading it again), and, furthermore (!!), she told me that she thinks Edward Cullen is so handsome.

“'Twilight' is supposed to be for young girls, but can you imagine, me? Me! A 50 year-old woman who enjoys it, too!”

My heavens. Today's excited talk about the Twilight release with my friends, and Madame Chong's proclaimed love for the books/Edward Cullen, makes “Twilight” > “Mundane History” today, any day, everyday.

[nov 19 release in thailand. epic times to come.]

Numbers Thus Far

3 - Number of geckos I've found in my apartment.

#1 I found in the office/studio area the other day. Calmly caught the baby, let it go.
#2 I found scampering by my luggage in my room just yesterday. Calmly caught the baby, let it go.
#3 I heard today in my room (Yes, geckos make sounds. Now you know.). I followed the sound -- it was perched above my dresser. And it was definitely not a baby (about the size of my palm). I did not catch it. I was not calm about it. Rearranged my furniture to try and trap it, but when I came face-to-face with it while it was frozen on the wall, I chickened out and couldn't get close enough to contain it. Now it's in my air conditioner and makes the same bird-call noise every hour or so. It's loud and freakin' annoying. I have no idea how to get rid of it. I'm not even scared of it because the poor thing looked terrified during our "confrontation" (lol), but I just can't handle the thought of it growing bigger. I've tried hitting the a/c with my hanger to scare it out, but now it knows I'm on a mission to find it. If I had caught it, I would have freed it. But now, I'm considering poisoning it somehow. Is that terrible or what? Anyway, I'm quite peeved that my most recent Google search has been "How to Catch a Gecko."

Ugh.

Throughout my ordeal, I kept thinking of Liam Neeson's quote from "Taken", but modified:

"[Gecko,] I don't know [where] you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for [bugs], I can tell you I don't have [any]. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for [creatures] like you. If you [come out of that air con vent] now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you (in fact, I'll set you free!). But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."

I'm now watching something a tad less menacing: "Rataouille." I'm trying to convince myself that humans and creatures can, in fact, coexist peacefully.

8 (approximately) - Number of people on the Tham Phang beach on Koh Sichang, Linnea and I included.

L & I took advantage of our most recent Monday off (Buddhist testing) and went to the nearby island, Koh Sichang, located in the Chonburi province. We left on Sunday, and after a taxi ride, a 2 hour bus ride, a 50 Baaht tuk tuk ride, and a 45 minute ferry ride (whew), arrived on the non-tourist-infested island, sans hotel plans. We were only sure that we want to eat at a famous restaurant called "Pan & David's", which serves delicious western, vegetarian, and Thai food.

And eat we did.

Tired of Thai food, L and I stalked up on our Western delights while at Pan & David's: french fries, garlic bread (mmm), and waffles. Waffles! With fresh maple syrup. On a Monday (almost like Sunday brunch at home, aw)!
Shamefully content, we took off to Koh Sichang's beautiful beach on Monday afternoon, Tham Pang, where we kayaked, played with coconuts, waded in the crystal-blue water, and made small-talk with an Aussie traveler, one of maybe eight farangs we saw on the island.


Sichang was the quiet-time she and I needed after a very long and exhausting first-week at school.

4 - Number of creatures found in our hotel/bungalow room at Koh Sichang.

Sichang was beautiful. We got to escape the noise and pollution from our home near central Bangkok, but creatures seem to be omnipresent in this country. At Rim Talay, the bungalow we stayed at, we brainstormed ways to kill two massive spiders and their wee little spidey children; we found a dead baby rat tied up in a plastic bag, and further, tied to a doorknob in our room; and, I got a pleasant surprise from a striped roach that was about the size of my pointer finger while I was showering.

Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore.

[cool bug seen during my morning read overlooking the sea. but the others weren't as such.]

32 (approximately) - Number of autographs I've given out.

I told you before how I'm a celebrity at school. But my celeb status was upped a few days ago when students started asking me for my autograph. Most of them are sweet students who are more concerned with drawing hearts around my name than with listening to my lecture during class; the others are the students who want to do whatever their peers are doing -- and that's normally crowding around me, asking for hand shakes, high fives, and even asking me to kiss them on the cheek and tell them "I love you," just as they frequently do to me. It's no bueno because 1) teachers can't go around kissing students and telling them they love them (um, hello?); 2) I will for sure get sick if I keep touching these kids.

However, I'll admit it: I secretly (or not-so-secretly?) sort of like the attention. How could you not, when you're called "Beautiful teachahh!!!" as adorable little girls bow down to you (seriously!) or touch your hand? How could you not, when these five year-olds see you, put their hands in a praying position, and bend their knees as they mutter "Good Mawning, teachah!" to you?

[my pratom 3/3 class. they love me. it's hazardous sometimes!]

So much love from these kids. So much so that I was thinking the other day that depressed people need to become teachers in my position. If your heart doesn't turn to mush when these little ones reach out to you, then you're not human.

1 - Number that Americans are obsessed with.

The longer I'm in Thailand, the more I see how individualistic Americans are. It's not a bad thing, it's just a cultural difference. For example, every day, I think about how I need my alone time. How I haven't had 15 minutes to myself yet. Me, me, me.

Thais are group-oriented. In class, though I'll be leading a competition or a game, the whole class will chime in to help a fellow student if s/he doesn't know the answer to my question. The Thai adults I've met have been unfailingly selfless to me and so entirely giving with their time. I can't imagine many Americans I know, myself included, who would be willing to give up a weekend to show foreigners around (i.e. Tor), or who'd walk a foreigner across town and wait for her to finish her mundane errands (i.e. Madame Chong).

The most basic way to recognize this difference is in our usage of iPods. Here, L and I pop in our iPods when we're exercising or when we are traveling on buses. But I rarely see any Thais do this. I assume it's because as Americans, we're so used to sealing ourselves off from the rest of the world as we get lost in our own thoughts.

7-11 - Number of the inescapable store.

7-11. It's everywhere. And might I add that I found Tim Tams the other day at the 7-11 nearest to me? Mm, like Australia all over again...

215 - Price we pay at "the cafe" everyday.

L and I make it a habit to go to this one cafe everyday after school. Without fail, she orders iced coffee + toast & marmalade; I order iced tea with toast + chocolate. We both get salad with fried prawns (aroi mah!). They know exactly what we want the second we walk in the door to its clean, westernized, chic and simple ambiance that is lined with colorful pictures of decadent desserts and is stocked with international Vogues on its white-wood bookcase. Our bill is always 215 baaht. That's like, a little over $6 for all of that after-school-snackin'-goodness.

9 - The grade I love teaching the most.

I never thought I'd say this, but I really enjoy teaching 9th graders over the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders. They understand English better and know when they're being naughty. They're mature enough to know when to stop misbehaving. And they try. For the most part.

Miscellaneous ramblings:

- Thais have amazing nicknames. My friend has a student nicknamed "Income." My other friend had a student nicknamed "Photoshop." I know students whose nicknames are "Thailand," "Bangkok," "Jet," "Ball," and "Boss."

Boss. I want to name my son Boss.

-Thais are notoriously late, all the time.

- The lunch lady, Pe Oi, calls me "Noi" because she asked me what my nickname is. (This one's for Mom & Dad!). Isn't that sweet. :)

G'night!