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!

Themes of Humanity

From the last few days, I have learned much about the nature of people.

People can...

...be outrageously kind.
Like Madame Chong, one of the Chinese language teachers from Malaysia who is employed at Amnuayvidhya School. A sweet and short lady who is not "plump" or "fat" or "round" -- but merely, "soft" (it is truly the perfect word to describe her), Madame Chong has always greeted me with a warm smile that makes her eyes turn into moons. She brought me red bean tapioca the other day: "something sweet for you! *smile*" she said in perfect English -- as she is tri-lingual -- and proceeded to ask me what my work schedule is like so that she could take me out for lunch. As if that weren't enough, she invited me into her humble house after school, graced me with lovely conversation, called her daughter to help me with directions I needed, and escorted me to the photo shop where she translated and waited for me to get my pics taken.

Madame Chong is a 48 year old widow with two children: a girl, 17 years old, and a boy, 15 years old. She reminds me of the aunties in my own family and I quite adore her.

...twist you in ways you once thought unimaginable.
I mean this in the most literal and figurative of senses.

Literally: I got my first Thai massage (in Thailand) today in Big C. It was a tiny little shop -- a room, really -- with only curtains for privacy (because who needs walls, walls are overrated). After an exhausting day (and first week) at school, L and I booked it to the nearest massage center after our delicious late-lunch at a nearby cafe, Jo Jo. The massage was one hour long and cost 150 baaht, which is roughly less than $5 -- no tip, either (yeup, you want to come to Thailand now, dontcha!).

If you've ever gotten a Thai massage, the following thoughts probably crossed your mind, as they did mine, during the experience:
-"WOAH, heyoooo. That there, right there? That was inappropriate."
-"Is she allowed to touch me there?" (not THERE THERE but so close to there, oh my)
-"Just keep your eyes closed to avoid the awkwardness."
-"Looks like I won't need to go to yoga class this weekend..."
-"Woosahhhhh."
-"I didn't know I would be involved in acrobatics."
-"Is this not borderline contortion right now, or am I imagining things..."
-"This would NEVER be allowed in the States."

Needless to say, there are few (but obvious) parts of my body that the lady failed to massage. My feet, toes, legs, arms, hands, back, shoulders, head, and even my face (yes, she massaged my face) are quite gratuitous right now. "Khap kun KA" ("Thank you!"), I groggily said to her after that hour of somewhat masochistic splendor.

I'm totally going back every week.

Figuratively: Because L and I are farangs, we tend to get ripped off. No one has quite confirmed this suspicion of ours, but we're positive some taxi drivers and restaurant owners have overcharged us due to our lack of Thai communication abilities. So, though we may be in the Land of Smiles, and though everyone tells us that Thais are great and all, it's not the case. Thais are people and people can be plain ridiculous at times.

Like today, when we took the bus (for the first time) back from our fantastic massage to our apartment. We had issues understanding the fare amount and ended up paying twice the amount necessary. We wouldn't have known -- the fare collector just smiled at us with a smug look on his greedy face as he collected our money with his dirty hands (they were black) -- had it not been for the two ladies who caught his face and started yelling at him in Thai. We thought they were talking smack about us because there was a lot of yelling and finger-pointing occurring, but the fare collected eventually gave us our money back (without looking at us in our eyes), as the ladies nodded their heads smartly at us. What a breezy. We would have never known.

...be so entirely...BLATANT.
Tonight, L and I went to the park that is literally a block away from our apt to work out. It's adorable, well-lit, healthily occupied, and picturesque, as it's right under the bridge over the Chao Praya. Then again, everything might have seemed cooler at this park because I went during sunset and the sky was the most beautiful pink. And there was a commercial being shot at the park (farangs, farangs!). But I digress.

After gingerly getting over the fact that my lungs would have to suffer for some cardio while in BKK and running for a good 20 min, L and I heard loud aerobics music blasting from the parking lot.

...a...CLASS, perhaps?

And it was. It was a taebo-esque aerobics class that was being taught to the public for free (we think?), so we jogged on over to the crowd of six Thais who were following the overly-energetic Thai man on a raised platform, who was wearing a cut-off gym shirt that showed off his gleaming arm muscles as he pumped his fists! And kicked his legs! And bounced! And twirled! And clapped! And said "WOOH!" too loudly into his mic over the music that probably came straight from an Equinox aerobics class. And twirled some more.

After who-knows-how-long, I started getting really annoyed with him because his moves were becoming far too complex for any of us to follow coherently and without looking foolish. He would look back at us to see if we were getting the moves (clearly we were NOT), but he'd obnoxiously laugh into his mic, then twirl some more, and make his moves more complicated. He was acting like a possible ladyboy who was purely and blatantly up there for his own pleasure and to be in the limelight.

And you all know that I totally just added this story to vent. Lol.

...inspire and thus, be idolized.
I am reading a book called Like the Flowing River, a collection of Paulo Coelho's short stories, essays, and thoughts on life, death, spirituality, and all that's in between (and that's a lot) right now. I found the book in our school's English library, as it was left behind from a previous teacher. Coelho wrote The Alchemist but I've yet to read it. However, after reading this utterly inspirational book -- one that I find so moving that I end up re-reading his sentences just to savor their simple style, gorgeously flowing prose, and most importantly, their profound messages -- I can safely say that Coelho is one of my literary idols. He's inspired me and reinforced my thoughts on life, dreaming big, and following one's heart under God's guidance.

Not-so-similarly (yet similarly), I find my current role as a teacher to fit the aforementioned roles. From this one week of teaching, I hope that I have inspired and encouraged my Thai students to speak English with increased comfort and less hesitation. The only way I've thus used to gauge whether I have done my job well is by the number of hugs, high-fives, and hand shakes students have wanted to give or get from me, which are often many (not to toot my own horn, but "toot toot" lol).

Whether I am idolized here because I am an inspiration in the classroom, or merely because of my idolatrous and fantasized image is something I must try to separate by placing emphasis on the former.

Oy vey. Enough thoughts for now. Goodnight.

Never Teach After Lunch

I'm exhausted. I taught four classes today of 4th graders. The first class was a DREAM! They were great.

But then came the three classes after lunch. Good. Heavens.

If you enjoy 4th grade boys wrestling with each other, hitting girls, and bouncing off the walls as they yell at the top of their lungs, be my guest: teach elementary kids after lunch.

Two of the classes were so rowdy today that the thought of quitting this job sounded like a great idea. Loudly hitting the white board six times, in one class, didn't get them to quiet down. Glaring at the 9 year olds did nothing but yield giggles. Putting naughty boys in the corner only provided entertainment for the class because they started dancing in their respective spaces. Boy, do I have a new found respect for teachers.

But nay; I will prevail. Though I'm treated how a substitute teacher is treated back in the USA (for now), I am assured that it will get better as time goes on. Either they will get used to me or I will start being meaner, which I never thought I'd have to do. I guess acting like you love your students doesn't always mean they'll love you back...

Although I still did receive many "I love teacher" notes today. =)

Chaos. Insanity. My life is NUTS and I LOVE IT.

I write this post post-karaoke. Seriously, I think I had one of the best nights of my LIFE just now; one of the best and hardest laughs I've ever had; one of the best memories of Thailand that I will take back home.

Today was my second day of teaching, which I'll explain in a bit. After the day ended, Linnea and I decided to go the karaoke-restaurant (which we previously associated with hoodlums) that is literally like, eight steps away/across from my apartment and my door for dinner because it was drizzling outside and we didn't want to walk through the nasty shiz, i.e. dried-up dog crap that is everywhere, that pollutes our streets.

Turns out this was an amazing life decision. Without exaggeration, an AMAZING life decision.

After ordering Pad Thai with shrimp (L's favorite), the only dish we know, other than Pad See Ew, papaya salad, and green curry, the latter of which they did not have, much to my dismay; after only a few glasses of Leo; and after having meaningful conversation while shouting over the eight out-of-key Thais who were karaoking in the background, the owner of the restaurant politely asked us if we wanted to karaoke.

In a foreign country, in a restaurant with maybe eight other locals eating there, other than the three staff members, this request required no second thought.

Bounding up the stairs and into the spotlight, L and I, after much communication difficulty, obtained the binder of songs -- all of which were in Thai. Fail. But mai pen rai! Though the karaoke dude wanted us to sing a song by "m2m" (who????), we ended up belting out to the Spice Girls' "Stop" (the lyrics of which I only knew, lol), "Colors of the Wind", and "Build Me Up Buttercup". We laughed through about 1/4 of it; another 1/4 we actually, shamefully, actually actually TRIED. No, really. We stopped the giggling and gripped our mics, cocked our heads, and bent our knees during the passionate keys. But then we'd look at each other and crack up at the fact that we were actually attempting to be good. The other 1/2 of the time was spent butchering the songs. Poor Thais, they're probably deaf by now. I mean, hey, the karaoke dude cut us off after our third song.

BUT! The best part was when we got off the stage (few claps, then utter silence...great) and were handed a ROSE with 200 baaht attached to it (i.e. half our bill!)!! The restaurant owner's boss/landlord of our apt gave us this precious gift to commend our efforts.


Laughter - the purest, most refreshing, hardest, tummy-twisting, ab-stimulating laughter - ensued. Linnea and I sat there for maybe 10 minutes just ROLLING with laughter; tears poured down my cheeks and my mascara ran amok at how entirely ridiculous the past few days of our lives have been. "WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE RIGHT NOW?!" I squealed (yes, it was a squeal). It was amazing.

TEACHING
Our last few days have been ridiculous because we've taught for two days; my first day, yesterday, was pure chaos. Introducing myself to 400 Thai children during the morning ceremony, before watching the uniform-clad children perform their school anthem and Buddhist-praying routine (during which I stood, dumbstruck), was the easy part. I quickly found that teaching 2nd and 3rd graders, however, while keeping them entertained and focused, is nearly impossible. Try doing this with a smile on your face and without yelling at them. I've taught six 50-minute classes so far, and all of them have been pretty different. Their English has been at different levels but all have responded well to name-game ball-tosses, the Splat game, and shaking hands while saying "nice to meet you". Trust, they've screamed and yelled out of excitement; some have hit each other while others have crawled on the floor; and one girl cried today. But heyyyy, the show must go on.

[the massive billboard dedicated to our faces and full names - middle names and all]

Despite the utter insanity that has consumed my classrooms thus far, I could get used to being a celebrity -- I mean, teacher -- here in Thailand. The kiddos bum rush me in the halls, hug me in the middle of class, and don't un-leech themselves from me even as I continue to teach and even walk. They tell me they love me all the time and write me sweet notes ("I love you teacher" or "HAPPY" with a heart, ain't that sweet). And they all want to hold my hand! Hm. Sounds like some boyfriends could get a lesson from these Thai kids...

The best part, other than being adored (of course), is when I enter a classroom and one student says "Stand up!" Everyone stands in unison and says, slowly and with all the stressed syllables adorably wrong, "Good af-ta-noooon (or morning), teeeeaaaa-chahhh." To which I respond, "Hello, class! How are you?". Response "FINE, aaaanddd youuuuuuuu?" Etc. etc. It's the best.


LOY KRATHONG

[lol. best candid of random thais during loy krathong...ever]

Other than the chaos in my classrooms (pray that this will get better in the next few days, though believe me, I'm having the most fun adventure of my life here), L and I also went to the Thai holiday called "Loy Krathong" last night on the Chao Praya, merely minutes away from our apartments.

How shall I describe Loy Krathong? It's like USA's 4th of July except instead, the Thais light up candles and incense that are stuck in krathongs (flower boat things), then set them adrift in the rivers of this Land of Smiles while wishing for good things in the year to come. It's pretty. We also saw people light up lanterns and release them into the air, which was a disaster waiting to happen, especially with the wind that night. I just pictured the lanterns failing to catch wind, getting snagged on a wire, and setting the whole boardwalk on fire, which was filled with too many people, interesting seafood kiosks (we tried octopus eggs! salty. and like chicken eggs), electric lights, and fireworks that were set off WAY too close to our heads. Basically, the concept of "safety regulations" does not exist here.

[does it look dangerous? and smokey? because it was.]

Other than almost getting killed by these fire hazards/the motorbikes & congested people-traffic, L and I also put our lives on the line when we set our krathongs adrift in the not-so-calm Chao Praya River. Of COURSE I almost tripped while walking down the ramp to the river. Imagine that newspaper title: "Farang trips and falls into Chao Praya River during Loy Krathong" with a picture of my desperate hand reaching out for help, hair soaking wet, face painfully contorted; brown, rapid waters of the Chao Praya engulfing me. Nice.

All of the aforementioned scenarios, in addition to many of which I have omitted due to lack of space, can be summed up by one saying that L and I have adopted: "Freaking Farang".

Chaos. Insanity. My life is NUTS here and I LOVE IT.

Elephant, Squirrel + Pig, Dog.

Let's go over my experiences with animals.

Elephant
I have yet to write about my elephant-riding experience in Kachanaburi, about a week ago. Tina, one of my good friends who is also teaching in Samut Prakan, was my elephant-riding partner. And together, we experienced the sentiments of fear, anxiety, worry, and more fear, as we sat atop this gargantuan animal. Though the ride was, indeed, thrilling in retrospect, we were scared because our elephant was the largest of the group -- massive, really -- and, our elephant "driver", the person whom we were entrusting our lives, was borderline crazy.

Crazy man was crazy because he kept looking back at us and yelling at us, or muttering at us, in inaudible Thai. When we'd kindly ask him if we could take a picture of his elephant, he literally bellowed at us, "NOOOOOOOO." Well alright. When we got off the elephant, which had roared various times during our trek (yeah, that really calmed our nerves), crazy man glared at us. No really, he stared me down; I felt it within the depths of my soul.

Anyway, it was pretty scary. But luckily, we calmly went bamboo rafting afterwards, which was sweet, other than the spider (that had a skull on its body) that I found crawling all over me.



Squirrel + Pig
Fast forward a few weeks. Before I talk about squirrel + pig experience, let's start with a precursor. /// I wrote about Tor, one of my new Thai friends here in Phra Padaeng, in my last post. Well, Tor is super legit and is probably the nicest human being I've ever met. He is so kind, giving, and patient. I say this because yesterday he took Linnea and me to the JJ Market, where he waited for us to try on clothes for about four hours, held our bags, threw away our trash for us, paid for our cab rides, and even took us on a scenic route to JJ Market on the Chao Praya River. After, he joined my CIEE friends and me for a Halloween celebration at club Route 66 in RCA, which was a fun but crowded experience. Oh, also, can I say that Thai clubs are the most polite clubs I've ever been to? Despite the fact that the club was sooo packed (it was a fire/safety hazard for sure), every time I bumped into someone, s/he would still kinda bow his/her head and "wai", kinda, and say "khao toad! khao toad!" (excuse me). So polite. We all ended up singing to a rockin' band at a quieter pub down the road, and after, Tor found us all cabs home. Really, a great guy.

Today is Sunday. L and I met up with Tor and went to a Thai "grocery store" to buy produce because he invited us over for dinner -- his chef (yes, chef) would be making us some home-cooked Thai food. In these produce aisles, we walked past tables with whole pigs cut up. I was stunned by a floating pig's head at this one table when I saw something moving behind it; low and behold, it was a SQUIRREL. A pet squirrel. You see, the owner of this table/kiosk had chained a pet squirrel (or maybe it was a chipmunk?) to the pole of this table, and let it roam by his produce. By the pig's head and guts, that is.

The man would play with his pet squirrel when he didn't have a customer, but when a customer came over, he'd wipe his hands off on his apron and tend to his customer's request. Without washing his hands, he'd handle this...this...FOOD, after playing with his pet squirrel.



It was honestly the most bizarre and borderline appalling scene I've ever witnessed. Vegetarianism might be an option for me again after that encounter...

Dog
I didn't get a rabies shot before coming to Thailand, but maybe I should have. It's not the many stray dogs I should be scared of, though. No. Because today, at Tor's house, I got nipped by one of the three huge St. Bernard's he has.

Beethoven, rightfully named so, along with his pack of other huge freakin 'dogs, got excited as a car approached the house, and sideswiped me on my left. In the process of doing so, he BIT ME. Uhhhh, OW? Oww. He didn't get any flesh, but he for sure ripped my brightly colored floral skirt that I just purchased yesterday.



Yes, that sucked. But other than that, the food that Pe El (Tor's chef) cooked was "aroi ma" (delicious!). The dishes included tom yum with mushroom, papaya salad, broccoli, and pork. She must've loved us because Linnea and I couldn't stop snapping pics of her and the food.

Nonetheless, it's been an interesting few days. I didn't even write about my experience at the Buddhist temple, which was, in short, impressive and filled with food and nice people. I'd elaborate but I'm getting concerned because a mysterious rash just appeared on my right arm...

WHAT IS THIS MADNESS????