A few nights ago, our group of CIEE teachers spent our last night together dining on the River Kwai. The food was great, other than the spicy chili I ate from the Papaya Salad; weather was kind; the company was enriching. Before this romantic and froo-froo scene, though, let us rewind to the part when I crossed the bridge over the River Kwai and ran from a train.
The bridge over the River Kwai, other than being a very iconic piece of history (do your research), is still a fully-functioning railroad track, but people are still allowed to cross it. This is dangerous because the train could come at any moment and the only warning one would have to move the F out of the way would be the two railroad guards who merely blow their shrilly whistles at you to seek haven at the nearest “safety spot”, which is like, a 5X5 extended piece of metal from the bridge, available only every 10 feet or so, as the train approaches. It's also dangerous because the bridge has very wide gaps between the wooden panels. There are so many people crossing the bridge, too, so people are frequently jumping from the main track to the little wooden plank to teetering on both plank and track, with the lolling brown water visible with one peek down...it's just mayhem.
I did not feel comfortable at all while crossing this track. My heart just was thumping the whole time; the thought of tripping, as I frequently do (yes, laugh all you want), and landing in the river, which was soooo far below me, did not appeal to me. But my friend, Tony, and I, vowed to cross the bridge just so we could say we have crossed the bridge over the River Kwai. Yeah, yeah, yeah okay so after crossing and taking a few nice pics, 
we touch the end of the track and we're walking back to the other side – strolling, really –when we hear the guard blowing his whistle and yelling at us in inaudible Thai. I look back in terror. I freeze. No, Kristina, DON'T FREEZE! Run!!!! Find a safety spot!!!!!! Holy CRAP FIND A SAFETY SPOT!
And then I start running. On the bridge over the River Kwai. From a train. In my flip flops.
Mind you, I made it to the safety spot with minutes to spare, and I stood behind the three-inch thick red-line that really was like, two-inches away from the raging train, with a random Thai man asking me if I was from China, and I made it out alive and had a great dinner afterwards, but can we imagine this scene together one more time? I was already nervous as hell as I tip-toed across the bridge, but then I ended up running along it, trying to not trip on the huge bolts on the rail track, which would have definitely caused a splash on my behalf in the River Kwai, as I fled from an oncoming train.
[view of the oncoming train]
That was potential and voluntary opportunity for vehicular (er, train, whatever, you get the point) manslaughter #1.
#2 is as follows.
Today, Linnea (the other English teacher), Pe Tuk (our lovely school coordinator), and I hopped off a bus on the freeway because the traffic was at a stand-still. One second I was looking at my iPod, singing along to Colbie Calliat's “Realize” – which, by the way, is played ALL over Thailand right now, it's quite bizarre – and the next I see Pe Tuk waving at me to join her on the freeway.
“What.............”
is how I responded.
But no matter. We took an eight-minute stroll down the freeway and down the off ramp, along with about a handful of other Thais. I was probably inches away from getting run over by a taxi. Not only would that taxi have broken my foot, it would have also ruined the new Rainbows I just purchased at the USC bookstore a month ago. Tragic.
[Cue end of my vehicular manslaughter stories]
After strolling along the freeway, Linnea and I went shopping at Platinum Mall (where we saw our first Westerners since we've moved to Phra Padaeng – ooh, exciting!) and bought, basically, an entirely new wardrobe for work and leisure purposes. The mall is huge and the clothes are SOOOOOO cute; it's definitely a dangerous place for shopping-maniacs! We have found that most all the clothes that we brought from home are not conservative enough for the town in which we're teaching, Phra Padaeng. No “short shorts”, no tank tops or spaghetti straps during leisure time, all because we are the highly revered teachers and parents would frown down upon us if our attire suggested that we are shhhloootay.
Have I told you yet about Phra Padaeng? It's a town right on the Chao Praya river, the largest in Thailand. Really, the school at which I'll teach starting November 2nd, which is called Amnuayvidhya, it RIGHT on the river and is under a gorgeous, majestic, golden bridge. It really feels as if I'm living by the Golden Gate Bridge in San Fran. I'll be teaching conversational English to grades 2, 3, 4, and 9, by the way.
Phra Padaeng is about 40 minutes away from Central Bangkok and can be quaint by the river, but turn one corner and you're in the thick of a street crowded with food and clothing vendors, stray dogs, motorbikes, and people, people, people. Linnea, Pe Ning (another school coordinator who is 26 years old and very funny; she also wants to marry an American, so she says), and I had the BEST Pad Thai on this street yesterday evening; today, Linnea and I ventured down it to have brekkie at a local bakery, and then later boarded bus 82 to transfer to bus 140 to get to the mall. That was a freakin' adventure in itself. The buses here do not stop at their designated bus stops; no, no. They stop, like, in the middle lane of the road and you have to DASH OUT in front of the taxis and tuk tuks in the lanes blocking you from it. We definitely heard some chuckles from the local Thais when we failed at running to catch bus 82 on the way home. Mai Pen Rai.
I don't get stared at because most everyone here assumes I'm Thai (wooh!), but Linnea, ohhh Linnea. She's a beautiful blonde girl who is from Chicago but could easily be plucked straight out of Sweden or something. Today, while browsing for bed sheets at Big C, the equivalent of Target + Wal Mart here, a little Thai girl literally stood in our aisle and gaped at Linnea. When we walk, we hear “farang, farang!” (foreigner) everywhere, all directed toward her.
Last night was my first night alone. I was scared, frankly. I wish Linnea and I shared an apartment, but I'm on the first floor and she's on the second. To make matters worse, there was the most booming and frightening thunder storm last night. My music was on so I thought my air con was going berserk and that people were lighting up fireworks outside, but no. It was a thunder and rain storm. MOMMY!
I've already met most of the directors of my school, but I'm meeting the Big Boss tomorrow, Mr. Bryan. All the other directors – Pi Meow, Mow, and Wattayayayayaya???? (I have already forgotten her name, help!!!) have been so kind, warm, and plain funny. They remind me of aunts in my own family. They are fascinated with the fact that my mother is from Burma. Many of them speak Burmese and I hope they'll communicate this culture with me – via both language and cuisine. Hehe.
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