school

So if I haven’t already made this clear, the reason I came to Thailand in the first place was to teach English. Now I’m not nor have ever been a teacher. I respect the profession but it is not my ambition. But it was a cheap (ish) and easy (ish) way to live abroad, and so I thought what the hey. How hard can teaching English be? Up until this very day I would have told you it was a piece of cake.

Let’s back up a little bit. Today was my first official teaching day, but it was not my first day at the school. I went in last Thursday and Friday for full days and sat at a desk and worked on lesson plans. Here’s some basic information about the school. It’s called Amnuavidya School, and I’m still not 100% sure how to pronounce that correctly. It runs from grades K-8. It’s private and Buddhist, and there are almost 2,000 students, all in matching uniforms. The person I deal most directly with at the school is my coordinator, Pe Tuk. Her name is Tuk, but “pe” is a Thai term used when talking about or addressing someone older than you. Thus for me she will always be Pe Tuk. She is for all extents and purposed my Thai mother. When I first got to the town she took me shopping in Bangkok for teacher appropriate clothes and then took me to a Tesco Lotus (which is apparently a British supermarket chain and which are everywhere here) to get all of the apartment things I need. She’s showed me where to eat and where to shop, and she is very firm in her opinions. My second night here I ate at the pub across from my apartment building and paid about 5 US dollars for my meal. A steal right? Well think again. I told Pe Tuk this the next day and after hearing how much I paid her face went quickly to disapproval. After a couple of beats she told me that she would take me to dinner that night, show me where to go that wouldn’t be so “expensive.” And she did. I now can name three places in Pra Pradaeng where I can get a full meal for no more than one American dollar. I’m sure by the time I leave I’ll know many, many more.

So last Wednesday Pe Tuk gave me a tour of the school. The main building is huge. It’s four or five stories tall (see I already forgot) and in an L shape which surrounds a courtyard. Now I’ve been there three full days, and I still cannot begin to tell you the rhyme or reason to the layout of the school. There are lots of staircases and hallways, all of which seem (in my mind at least) to never lead the same place twice (ala Hogwarts). The classrooms are identical, and would be distinguishable by the signs above their doors with the grade level, except for the fact that these signs are all in Thai. If the students are out of the classrooms things get even more confusing because the hallways are mobbed with boys and girls in navy and white. My tour was very informative, but the second we moved on to a different part of the school, I immediately forgot what I had been told before hand. What was that room for again? Which bathroom exactly was I supposed to use? And my desk, come again? But of course, I nodded and pretended that it was all sinking in.

So the next day I was to come in before 8am and go to my desk (one of many desks in a room with all Thai women teachers and one lone male British teacher, and me of course). I put on my best knee length skirt and collared shirt, grabbed my plastic brief case (called James Bonds here, which I think is absolutely hilarious), and marched right up to the school (or less marched and more fled across the street praying with all my might that I wouldn’t get hit by any of the rapidly moving cars). I confidently strode across the large open air cafeteria on the first floor and up the staircase that I was sure led to my office. Except the staircase didn’t seem to open up to the second floor this day. Instead it kept going right up to the third floor. Perplexed but still confident, I backtracked, trying to ignore all of the stares I was attracting from the students. I put on my best “I know exactly what I’m doing” face and tried again, up a new flight of stairs. I walked down the hall, again expecting to come across the room with my desk, except this time I walked past some infirmary I had never seen before, so wait a second, that can’t be right. After about three more attempts, I gave up and sheepishly walked down to the ground level to the school’s office. Feeling less like the new, confident and capable English teacher and more like a first grader on her first day of school, I confessed that I couldn’t find my desk. And to my immense embarrassment a twelve year old was summoned over (along with a gaggle of friends, these students, much like their American counterparts, only travel in packs) and told to lead me where I needed to go. So obviously I was off to a fantastic start.

The next couple of days I spent poring over the lesson plans left by old foreign teachers. My head swam with ideas for my first lesson and I put together what I thought was a very detailed and very fool proof lesson for my first day. I practiced at home the night before and felt ready. So today arrived, my first actual teaching day. It was the first day without morning showers so there was an assembly outside (which they do every day it’s not raining). I stood in the back and watched and it’s sort of like what I used to do in elementary school (pledge of allegiance, some kind of prayer if I remember right) except much, much, much longer, much, much, much hotter (two little students in the rows in front of me had to be taken/carried away because of the heat) and much, much, much more in Thai. Tomorrow I can look forward to being introduced to the entire school at the assembly (gulp).After the assembly I had two hours before my first class and though the nerves were building I still felt confident and capable. I was a college graduate for God’s sake, an English major, a nanny. I was perfectly capable of handling 30-35 eight year olds. This would be easy, just like being a camp counselor. It would be fun.

10:10 arrived and with some assistance (still have no idea which classrooms are for which grades) I walked to my first class, grade 2, section 1 (there are four sections for each grade, from what I’ve inferred the higher the section number the better the class). So 2-1 would definitely not be any trouble right? Right? I walked in as the Thai teacher walked out, smiled broadly, and walked to put my things on the desk. I had been pre-warned about the next part so it didn’t take me as much by surprise as it probably would have. The “class leader” instructed the class to stand up, and then in unison they said “good morning teacher”. So that’s definitely a good thing about Thai students. They know how and when to be respectful. Walking through hallways students literally bow to you (in Thai it’s called a wai, I bow whenever I meet someone older, especially if it’s someone who works at the school). So I smile, tell them they can sit down and prepare to start class.

Now during orientation we were taught that a great way to break the ice is to write a list of answers about yourself (ie my name is liz, I am 23 years old) and have the students tell you what the questions would be (ie what’s your name, how old are you). So I launched into this with my spirits high. I say the first answer and ask if anyone knows the question-blank stares. But that’s ok. I prepared for blank stares. I explain what the question is and move on. More blank stares. Except now only half the class is staring blankly. The other half is talking, loudly, to each other, to me, to friends across the school judging by the volume of their voices. I try to get things under control, use the shh-ing motion. And am promptly ignored by half the class. So I try and move on. I try to spice things up a little. Show a purple piece of paper when I’m talking about my favorite color, show a picture of a penguin when I’m talking about my favorite animal. I’m ready for the kids to be captivated, except well they’re not. Or maybe about 5 of them are, the good ones,( I’ve only taught three classes and I can already tell that you know in seconds who the good ones are-they sit at the front, they remain quite even when chaos erupts around them, and they look at you with these weirdly mature eyes, as if to say “I feel you teacher, these other kids are so childish”). I start to panic a little but I try and keep it in check. My mind keeps flashing blank and I have to remind myself what the lesson plan is, remember that carefully constructed, brilliant lesson plan I talked about. So on to the next thing, a focus chant. I got this idea from some of the lesson plans left by old teacher and I can tell you it was the one thing that worked across the board today. Basically whenever the kids get rowdy you get them to chant “hands up, hands down, hands up…”and so on and do the motions.

But that ends quickly, too quickly and when I glance at my watch only fifteen minutes have gone by. Shit! According to my carefully calibrated lesson plan, I should be halfway done. Except I’m not, not even close. So what was I supposed to do? Oh that’s right, try and get them to tell me their names. So I toss a ball to kids (again an idea from former teachers) and have them tell me their names when I ask. And this works fairly well for a while. But then only about half of the kids are into it, and while I’m trying to work with them and have them say “My name is…” the other half start shouting and running and just being little, squirmy, impatient kids. So deep breath, hold it together. What’s next?

Oh that’s right. The “About Me” cards, the most brilliant of my many brilliant ideas. I would have the kids make “About Me” cards with their names and pictures of their favorite animals and food. I even drew up one for myself as an example. How could that possibly go wrong? So the kids come up to get their paper and then go back to their desks and then stare at me. I repeat the instructions, draw a pretend piece of paper on the white board and wait for them to start. In seconds I’m sure they’ll be silent and captivated by their individual works. But they continue to stare. Or some of them. The other ones are talking to each other. One boy runs back and forth in the back of the room. Three of them come up simultaneously and ask me questions in Thai which I can only blink back in response to.

After another five minutes or so of this confusion, some of them start to draw. Little groups of them keep running up to my desk to look at my “about me” sheet which kind of throws me off, but okay, maybe they still don’t understand. Now one thing that really cracked me up is that they all took out rulers when I told them to draw. Apparently Thai children are very, very exact with their artwork, even eight year olds, and let me tell you their names on those pieces of paper were as straight as arrows across the board.

So I start to walk up and down the aisles in my best teacher fashion and I notice something strange. They’re all drawing penguins for their favorite animals. And they’re all drawing spaghetti for their favorite food. And this is when I realize that this supposedly “simple” and “easy” exercise I dreamed up is anything but. If I spoke their language, sure it would be easy. But this is not the case. For the briefest of moments I thought about trying to clear this up. They’d understand right. I wanted to see their favorite animal and food, not mine. But as I opened my mouth to talk, I realized there was no way they’d understand now if they didn’t understand to start with. I made a very simple and very fundamental mistake. I thought something was easy and simple just because it would have been easy and simple if they spoke English. But they don’t speak English. That’s precisely why I’m here after all, to teach them.

So as chaos continued to reign (these kids cannot stay in their desks, which I’m told is because they don’t get recess, which really kind of sucks and makes it hard for me to order them back to their desks, sigh), I walked around and couldn’t help but be a little amused by the level of care and detail they were putting into drawing the favorite animal and food of their new, weird, difficult to understand foreign English teacher. There were some really good penguins and spaghetti. One of them even drew a penguin eating spaghetti which I think showed remarkable initiative.

So that was my first lesson. It was kind of a disaster. I thought the lesson was foolproof and it was the opposite. What’s the opposite of fool proof? Foolish? The kids had way more energy than I anticipated and many of them were clearly of the opinion that English class was a good enough time as any for recess. But I regrouped, frantically tried to come up with some new ideas, and walked to my second class of the day.

On the way I passed the students from my first class. I was sure the last thing they wanted to see was the crazy lady who made them draw her favorite animal and food, but to my surprise they greeted me with huge smiles and waves. Some of them even came running out of the class to see me. So they couldn’t have hated it too much right? Knowing that even a disastrous class apparently didn’t faze the kids, I went to my second class with a little more confidence. I tweaked what I thought needed to be tweaked and the class went insanely smoother (the Thai teacher also happened to be in the room for a good chunk of it which I have a sneaking suspicion might have something to do with their better behavior, just maybe). After it ended I was again thinking I might have a foolproof first lesson.

And then I went to my third class of the day, 3-4 (which if what I’m led to believe is right, is the most difficult section of grade 3). And well if they’re not the most difficult then so help me God. Because it was rough. Only about 10 of the kids really listened. The rest talked amongst themselves or played or just flat out ignored me despite my most valiant efforts. By the end of the lesson I was so desperate and so exhausted from shouting that I feebly suggested they all make name tags, which went over about as well as the “About Me” cards. One kid even came up to the front and right beside me started break dancing. For a few seconds I just stared in shock, then took a deep breath and pointed to the Thai teacher just outside the door (who happened to look in at this moment and let me tell you, break dancing kid got an earful out in that hallway). And then the day was over and I could barely see straight I was so tired. My voice (already nearly lost from being sick) was on its last leg. My head was pounding. My fingers were covered in marker smudge. All of my carefully laid plans were stood on their heads.

And I think that’s when I realized what it means to be a teacher, this strange mix of moments that melt your heart (this one little girl who marched right up to me and said she loved me about five minutes into the class, or the clearly shy kid who raised her hand and got the answer right when no one else knew it) and moments where you think your head is going to explode (see exhibit A, break dancing child), all in this haze of exhaustion and frustration and above all else, a desire to do it better next time, make it simpler, more easy to understand, better for the kids.

So for a first day I’d say it went about as rocky as I could expect. And I’m guessing every class this week will be like that. But I didn’t do this because I thought it would be easy. And I’m not going to go in tomorrow thinking it will be easy. I’m going to suck it up, forget all those well thought plans, and just do whatever I can to teach these crazy kids English, even the ones I sort of want to strangle by the end of the day.

Pra Pradaeng

So last I left off, we were at the tail end of orientation, happily dancing the night away on a floating barge with disco ball and strobe lights (as one does). The next day we set off for Bangkok and three hours later we arrived at the hotel to meet our coordinators. And then in a blink we were all off our separate ways. I was ready to get to my town and finally see my school. I was ready to unpack and stop living out of a suitcase. But I'm not sure I was ready to leave my little Western, American cocoon, to leave the other participants and the OEG staff and the safety of hotels. To be honest it was really, really hard. I almost feel like there were two stages to arriving in Thailand, the first stage where I stayed in a hotel and was fed constantly and had satellite television and kids my age who spoke English. And then there was the second, much more overwhelming and scary phase, where I rode in a van across the river from Bangkok and was deposited in an apartment in a strange town with no other foreigners in sight.

My first night was hard. I had travelled approximately thrity minutes from the hotel in Bangkok but I felt a million miles farther away from home than I had felt my whole first week in Thailand. The full weight of being in a foreign country hit me. It's easy when you're in a hotel to cling on to the trappings of home, especially if it's a hotel with American Idol on the television and wireless internet and french toast for breakfast. But the second I got to my apartment that was all gone. I was really in Thailand, really thousands of miles away from Virginia and my family and my friends. And I was sad and I might have cried a little bit (I could lie and say that nothing fazed me in the slightest but I'm trying to be honest in this blog), but once I sort of got through all that, I realized that I didn't come to Thailand to have everything be like home. I came to Thailand because I wanted different and new and strange. And so I dried my eyes, took a deep breath, and really looked at my new home for the next five months.

So the apartment. It's basic. It's not a hut. There aren't elephants ambling past (oh how I wish there were though). I have running water. I have AC. I have a Western style toilet (i.e. not a squatter-which is not uncommon in this part of the world). I even have a television (with nine channels all in Thai-so clearly I'll get a lot of use out of it). I have a nice refrigerator which I have already stocked with bottled water, milk and singha beer (you know, the essentials). I'm on the second floor of a building run by a very nice man who handed me my key along with a roll of toilet paper (Thai people are always giving westerners toilet paper, for them it's not essential, but I think they know that us Americans are very attached to our bathroom paper products) and two bottles of water. It's nothing fancy but compared to what I had prepared myself for, it's downright modern (when I first decided to come to Thailand I literally had images of me in a grass hut with a mosquito net over my bed). There are some strange facets to the place. My sink for instance is outside on a tiny balcony. The balcony faces a huge building that is under construction and so I do not go onto my balcony a lot because there seem to always be a huge number of Thai construction workers staring back at me when I do. My shower and my toilet are pretty much in the same space, so every time I take a shower my toilet gets a nice rinse. I'm definitely not living in luxury, but I think compared to what most Thai teachers can afford on their salaries my digs are pretty darn fancy. And I keep reminding myself that when I go home and start looking for an apartment, I'm not going to be too choosy. Anywhere with an indoor sink for example will seem extravagant.

The town. Pra Pradaeng is for all extents and purposes a suburb of Bangkok. If Bangkok were Manhattan then I'm in Brooklyn. It's not quite as fast paced in this town as in the city. There aren't any skyscrapers or mega malls (I will write another time about these ginormous malls they have in Bangkok, like take the biggest American mall and put it on steroids), but it's still very much urban. The town sits right across the river from Bangkok, under a huge suspension bridge. When I first saw the bridge my immediate thought was of Charleston. Any suspension bridge maks me think of Charleston, and this one looks very much like my beloved Ravenal bridge. I look out my apartment window here and see the bridge, those enormous beams soaring through the sky, and in a small, strange way it brings me a sliver of home. About five minutes away from my apartment there is an enormous market, full of shops and vendors. The market is about as far as I've gotten in terms of exploring Pra Pradaeng, but the market alone would take forever to truly know. In the evenings it turns into this bustling, chaotic frenzy. I think a lot of people in the town get their dinners or dinner ingredients from the market and you'll see people loaded down with bags containing meat or fish or rice, weaving their ways through the food stalls. There are vendors selling souvenirs and clothes. There are 7-Elevens galore (they're everywhere in Thailand), Western style coffee shops next to family owned restaurants where nothing on the menu is in any kind of English. I've only tried one food stall. My coordinator, Pi Tuk (more on her later) took me there my first night and told me how to order paad thai with fresh shrimp. For 30 baht (about one US dollar) I can go to this stall and get a large order of paad thai with shrimp along with a two heaping sides of sprouts and green onions. It is very easy and very cheap to at well in Thailand.

There's a really pretty walkway that runs along the river, a perfect spot to read or sit or run (if I were the sort of person that did such a crazy thing). There are restaurants right on the river (really just big stoves and then a cluster of super low tables that you sit at without chairs). There are pretty much no other Westners (or at least none that I've seen). There's a famous floating market somewhere near me that I'm assuming draws in a lot of tourists, but at least in the center of the town where I am, it's pretty much all locals (and me of course). It's strange to feel like the only foreigner but I really don't even get that many stares. People smile and are friendly and helpful. The paad thai vendor in particular seemed thrilled that I chose his stall for my first Pra Pradaeng dinner. There's a little supermarket where I can get bread and water and even peanut butter (!).

And that's my town, or at least what I've learned of it so far (which I'm sure is only a fraction of what there is to know). Before I came here I didn't want to be anywhere near Bangkok. I was sure I would hate the city. But I was actually enormously relieved when Pra Pradaeng ended up being so close. For one I'm really close to 4 other Teach in Thailand program participants which gives me an enormous sense of comfort. It will be really easy for us to get together on weekends to hang out in the city or travel. But most surpisingly of all, being close to Bangkok comforts me. It's the last thing in the world I would have expected, but I think I really like Bangkok. It's big and chaotic and loud and crazy, but there's something there that's already gotten to me, something that keeps me wanting to go back for more.

My next post I'll fill you in on my school and the staff of the school, in particular my wonderful coordinator Pi Tuk who is like my Thai mom, and after tomorrow I'll be able to fill you in on my first day teaching (eek!).

orienation part deux: aka the part where i ride an elephant and all my dreams are fulfilled

So the remainder of the orientation in Bangkok kind of resides in my memory as one big, often fun but also often overwhelming (especially since I was sick) ball of blurriness. The people were awesome. The OEG staff (the overseas partner of CIEE which is the organization behind my foray abroad) were incredible. We were taken care of indecently well. As in every two hours on the dot there would be a coffee, tea and pastry/sandwich/treat spread waiting for us, not to mention the huge lunches and breakfasts provided. We had awesome teachers to teach us Thai language and teacher training. One very sweet and very enthusiastic Thai lady was given the daunting task of teaching us about professional standards for 6 hours (something mandated by the Thai Teacher’s Council, which regulates who can get a work permit) and she set about it with incredible aplomb and somehow, miraculously made it not mind-numbingly boring. I am incredibly grateful to the entire staff for making this first week so smooth and for making us feel exactly what we needed to feel our first week in a strange country, namely safe and taken care of. I’ve learned that I really like authority, maybe not the authority that’s mean and bossy, but the authority where you know if you have a problem that someone is there who can take care of it. It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I still look for “adults” in scary situations. Despite the fact that I’m 23, I haven’t really shaken the need to locate a “grownup” somewhere and follow their lead. It’s something I’ll have to work on obviously, especially now that I’m a teacher, but for that first week it was exactly what I needed. There were always “adults” around and I always felt like there was a safety net. Without this my first week would have been far more overwhelming and terrifying.

But enough of all of this and on to the fun part, namely our two night venture to Konchanaburi, a province about 3 hours west of Bangkok. We arrived after dark and even without daylight I could tell the hotel was gorgeous, all open air and space and walk ways that were seemingly endless. It’s the low tourist season in Thailand right now (rainy season to be specific but more on that later) and I’m sure this poor hotel staff did not know how to handle our loud and boisterous group as we descended on the “pub”/entertainment area and immediately began requesting Singhas (one of Thailand’s nation beers and so, so delicious, possibly my new favorite beer in fact). After a couple of relaxing hours sipping cool beers in the humid, sticky evening air we were off to bed. And the next morning, well the next morning, I awoke to one of the most beautiful places I have ever been and probably will ever be.It was evident even from the hotel, how beautiful this area was. In the distance small mountains rose into the air. In the foreground lush greenery stole the focus, palm trees and vivid pink flowers, lakes and a fast moving river. A mist hovered over everything, and all of the pollution and smog I had grown accustomed to in Bangkok were gone. The air was clear here and sweet smelling and even though it was still very, very hot, it didn’t feel quite as stifling as it had in the city.After another massive breakfast spread (seriously Denny’s and Shoney’s have nothing on these Thai breakfast buffets) we loaded up onto our bus and headed off to the elephant camp. Now I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this but one of my goals in life, not just this trip, but life in general, has been to ride an elephant. I love elephants. I think they’re beautiful and smart and perfect. I know they trample people now and again and are big enough to squash me without blinking an eye, but I don’t care. In my eyes elephants are noble, glorious beasts. And I’ve always wanted to ride one, not in a zoo or at some weird fair, but in their natural habitat. And so to be able to do this my first week was beyond what I could have hoped for.

The minute we approached the elephant camp I was in heaven. There they were, at least a dozen elephants standing around eating or drinking or you know, doing elephant things. A couple of elephants were in a different area, one with enormous tusks. This, I learned was the designated “photo elephant”, as in take a photo with him and you are expected to make a “cash” donation. Kind of a scam but I thought what the hey. His tusks were really cool and none of the other “free” elephants had tusks like that. And then even cooler, we were given bags of tiny bananas to feed to the elephants. I approached with some trepidation because while I love elephants, the thought of letting one eat out of my hand still kind of freaked me out. But all I had to do was stand there and the elephant easily found the banana, bunched it up in his tusk, and put it into his mouth where it was quickly gobbled away. It was magical, and at this point I hadn’t even gotten on an elephant yet. A few minutes later this was remedied. Elephants are so big we had to go up onto this elevated platform in order to climb on to the two person saddle/bench attached to the elephants back. An elephant driver (?) sat bareback in front of us and we were off. We followed a very steep trail at first and going up was fine, but going down was kind of terrifying. Luckily the bench thing had a seat belt because I’m fairly positive I would have fallen off without it. And it’s a long way down from an elephant’s back. After a few minutes we got to this little village right near the elephant camp on the banks of the Kwai River. It became apparent later this tiny village pretty much lives off of the tourism brought in by the elephants. The houses were very modest and simple, more of huts really, all built up on stilts because of the nearby river. And there were a ton of kids who I’m sure have long since stopped being impressed by the sight of huge lumbering elephants walking past with Westerners clinging on for dear life on their backs. But they did run out to greet us, many of them carrying beautiful pink or white flowers which they adorably handed up to us as we rode by. A couple other people in the group even got these elaborate hats with leaves and flowers which I’m sure took forever to make. We eventually moved past the village and down to the river, where I was 99% sure I would get soaked. But again, elephants=huge. Even though they were half submerged in the river, we were sitting literally high and dry.

When we moved out of the river, something startling happened. Our driver hopped of the elephant. Now I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure elephants are hard to steer unless you know what you’re doing. Plus we were in a very hilly, rocky area, and I really didn’t want to take any chances with the elephant navigation. Just as I was shooting panicked looks at my elephant riding companion, the driver gestured to me, then gestured to the elephants back, as if to say hop on. I looked around and saw that many of my other fellow teachers were also in the same position. And none of them seemed to be in danger of falling off, so I followed suit. And it was awesome. Riding on an elephant in a saddle is really sweet, don’t get me wrong. But to ride one bare back, you actually feel like you’re on an elephant. You can feel this massive animal beneath you, feel how leathery the skin is, and how prickly (I had no idea elephants were so hairy). Every few seconds our elephant flapped his ears back and forth and each ear was big enough to completely cover my leg. I stopped worrying about falling off or our elephant walking right off a cliff. I sat there, on an elephant, amidst this incredible scenery, a huge river and mountains and lush jungle, and I could not have asked for a better moment. It was everything I wished for and more. I can now cross something pretty major off my life to do list. Because elephant riding was seriously right up there with having a successful career and husband and kids.

After the elephant riding, we were ushered into trucks and driven to a point up the river to go bamboo rafting, which is exactly what it sounds like. Big sticks of bamboo tied together to make a raft. Now this experience would have been cool if I had just sat on the raft the whole time. Again, the scenery could not have been more gorgeous, just the Thailand you picture in your head (or at least I did). So green and tropical and peaceful. I could have happily sat there and enjoyed the view as we drifted quietly down the big river.But then I noticed someone in our group swimming a little ways away (we were on several rafts spaced apart along the river). I was hot and sticky (kind of a constant in Thailand) and the thought of diving into the water sounded perfect. The other people on my raft seconded the idea. Now maybe in another life I would have worried about whether or not the water was sanitary, whether there were crocodiles in this part of Thailand, whether there were water buffalos in this part of Thailand (are those lethal?), whether I would get sucked under by a strong current and drown, even whether I would regret being wet the rest of the day. But this lifetime I didn’t think about any of that. All I thought about was how nice the water looked, how good it would feel, and how I may never again have the chance to swim in the Kwai river with mountains and jungle on either side of me. So I stripped down to my bathing suit and jumped. And it felt as good as I imagined. The current was so fast we barely even had to paddle. We could just tread water and let ourselves be drifted along with the raft. Like the elephant there’s really only one word to describe it, awesome. Rarely in life do we really feel like we’re living in our skin, just utterly present, tied to nothing but our senses and the moment. This was one of those moments. I will always remember it, how good that water felt, how happy I was that I jumped.

After our little river excursion we had lunch in the village by the elephant camp, then it was off to Moon Bak Den, an orphanage not far from there. I was little nervous about this. You think orphanage and you think sad and heartbreaking and kind of horrible. We were going there to teach an English lesson and I really didn’t know what to expect. But turns out I didn’t have to worry about anything. Because the kids there were amazing. Literally the second we walked up to the village (it’s called a children’s village, all of the kids live in houses with adults who act as a family, they literally call them the Thai equivalent to mom or dad-it’s a really beautiful system for these children who have lost or who have been abandoned or abused by their biological families), we were embraced. And I mean literally. Kids jumped onto backs and reached out for hands. Kids smiled huge smiles and could care less that we were foreigners or that we didn’t speak their language. They were incredibly open hearted, far more than kids who have been through what they’ve been through, could ever be expected to be. They bounced and they ran and they exuded energy. I thought this orphanage would be depressing but the place itself was anything but. It was like a big summer camp, set in one of the most beautiful places on earth, right on the Kwai river,on a hilltop overlooking jungle and mountains and water. Walking around, it was hard to imagine a better environment for an orphanage, like if you could come up with the perfect orphanage in your head it would be this. There was an organic garden where the orphanage grew its own food. There were dogs running around and one very scared kitten that was carted around by one kid who had clearly claimed it. There was a big river where we were told the kids played and bathed in every night. There were classrooms and libraries and playgrounds and a basketball court. It was summer camp meets boarding school, but most of all it felt like a home, somewhere these children could feel safe and nurtured and taken care of. And you could see it in their eyes that they did. The fact that they could be so open with us and just immediately launch themselves at us with affection and energy said everything we needed to know. These kids should have been hardened and afraid. And they were the opposite. They were beautiful. Their eyes were full of life and life and excitement. They played games with us and giggled and surrounded us with this whirling mass of energy. And how selfless must the staff of the orphanage be, these men and women who don’t go home at the end of their work days, who are there all the time for these kids, who are all things to them at all times, surrogate families and teachers and guardians and babysitters and traffic cops. I cannot tell you how amazing it was to be in this place for a few hours. It’s so clichéd to say this but it did give me so much perspective. It made me thankful for what I have and it also forced me to acknowledge how little of the material things I surround myself with really matter. Not to get to deep, but well, I can’t help it, going to an orphanage forces you to get a little deep. I’m so happy we were given the opportunity to visit and I firmly hope I can one day go back there.

Our next stop was a trip to the bridge over the river Kwai (like the movie), something of which I didn’t really know the history and which I’m now glad I do (look it up, it’s very interesting and relevant to American history as well as Thai history). And we ended the day with what else, dinner aboard a floating barge that turned into a discotheque (complete with disco ball and strobe light) the second the meal was over. As we floated along the river in the dark and as I bopped along to Thai versions of American favorites (yes, most of the music here has been covered by an accented Thai singer, have no idea why or how this is legal), I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this experience, that all of my experiences thus far, have been singular and unique. It’s really easy to get stuck in a rut in life, and I think I was starting to get a little rutty before I left, going to the same bars and restaurants, doing the same things. And I really needed something to get me out, an experience that would be truly different, something that I would probably only experience once in a lifetime. Riding an elephant, bamboo rafting, going to that orphanage, yes I might do these things again. I hope I do. But in all honesty they are all probably once in a life time experiences for me. And that’s what I wanted. That’s what I needed.

Again I feel this blog getting to a dangerous length so I will end it here, at the end of orientation in Konchanaburi. Next time I will discuss my apartment (air quotes implied here), my town, my school, and all the kookiness that has come along with all of those things. Miss everyone at home. Be safe and be good.

and it begins

And it begins…

So this is a little delayed. I’ve been in Thailand now for a week and a day. I’ve had opportunities to post, internet access in both hotels we stayed in during orientation. But until right now I haven’t been able to wrap my head around even trying to write something about my experience thus far. What can I say about my first week in Thailand? How can I possibly put into words the thousand and one overwhelming, amazing, beautiful, stressful, insane, funny, interesting moments I’ve encountered in this short space of time? And I’m really not sure I can, but I will try for posterity’s sake, so that I can look back on this time when I’m old and gray and force my tried, forgetful mind to remember every vivid moment.

Let me first say that my flight, excuse, my flights to get to Bangkok felt like they took about a two weeks. This was not helped by the fact that I touched down in four different time zones along the way, changed planes three times, went through security three times, and took a total of four endless flights. I couldn’t help but picture my journey displayed via one of those old timey movie maps. You know like in Indiana Jones when he jumps from continent to continent and they show his progress with an animated line drawn across a cartoon map. That was me, bouncing from Richmond to Chicago to Los Angeles to Hong Kong to Bangkok, except it was less of a jaunty, thrilling adventure and more of a tedious, never ending transit from hell. My journey took 30 hours and I was barely walking by the end of it. I have never been so profoundly exhausted as when I walked off my flight in Bangkok. I had slept about 4 hours in the last 40 (15 hour plane ride + coach + a middle seat + no leg room= not conducive to in flight sleeping). I had no idea what time or day it was. I had been served plane food breakfast about 3 times in a row, which only added to my confusion. It was the fifth airport I’d been in in two days, and there was a whopping eleven hours difference between Bangkok time and the time I had just left. Add to this the surreal nature of my last two flights where all of the attendants were wearing swine flu preventative face masks (I swear to God I felt like I was in the midst of some science fiction movie). Also side note I got the feeling that as an American (and thus from a nation sharing a border with Mexico) I was viewed as somewhat contaminated. On one of my flights I sat next to an Asian couple who were both wearing face masks and I’m pretty sure they saw me as one giant germ. I had to fight the very strong urge to fake a violent coughing fit, just to see the looks of horror on their faces (or the parts of their faces not covered up by medical masks). But I digress. Let’s just say the 30 hours spent travelling left me more than a little delirious. It was definitely an out of body experience, and I’m frankly surprised I didn’t just curl up on top of one of my giant suitcases and take a nap right there in the airport. Also note to self, never take a heavy tote bag, a heavy lap top bag and a heavy purse on a plane journey again. I had bruises all over my shoulders the next day from hauling these items from plane to plane to plan to plane.
With frankly more poise than I thought myself capable of in such conditions, I managed to get my bags onto a trolley (with some assistance from a burly man, my bags were, ahem, a little over weight, okay fine they were so overweight that they had to put a special tag on them instructing that whoever lifts them bends their knees due to their excessive heft). I wheeled my way through the airport, and walked in circles for about half an hour until a girl with a trolley much like my own asked if I was there for Teach in Thailand. An hour later we were picked up by an arranged driver and taken to the orientation hotel (Pinnacle Lumpini if you’re curious). Thus the next phase of the journey began.

I have no idea how but I stayed up until 7pm that first day. I even tried to nap and found myself incapable of it. You know how sometimes people say they’re too exhausted to fall asleep. I had never experienced that until that first day. Every fiber of my being was bone deep tired, yet I couldn’t fall asleep. So with no other alternative, I ventured out with a couple of the girls in the program to the Lumpini night bazaar, just across the street from our hotel. The first impression walking out of the hotel (even in my hysterically tired state, everything was vivid, maybe even more so because I was so tired) was the heat. Then I felt the sticky humidity, pressing in on every pore. We walked onto the street, and my senses were bombarded. People everywhere, crowding the sidewalks. A steady stream of traffic on the street, cars and taxis and tuk tuks (auto-rickshaws, called tuk tuks for the distinctive noise they make). A few more steps and we’re in the midst of vendors selling street food. And oh the street food. After a week here I can say that one of the most distinctive features of Thailand is the street food. You walk anywhere and you can’t help but be surrounded by it, the smell, the sight. You turn your head one way and there are whole chickens sizzling above leaping flames. Another direction and you’re confronted by the biggest, most bizarre looking fruits you’ve ever seen. Sprouts and shrimp and noodles sizzle loudly in frying pans while huge vats of aromatic red and white soup bubble near by. There’s every food you can name. Beef, chicken, pork. Whole fish deep fried with their heads still on. There’s rice, steamed or fried up, more rice than you could ever wish to eat in a lifetime. There are charcoal fires with huge chunks of raw meat cooking away on top (forget the health department, I’m pretty sure every American health code is violated in just one of these stalls). People line up on their way home from work to collect plastic bags filled with spicy prawn soup or a wrapped up package of paad thai. Or if you’re not in the mood for a full meal, how about one of the many vendors selling fruit. There’s pineapple and mango and watermelon but also the strangest fruits you’ve ever seen, huge green things with spikes all over them (durian, which apparently stinks to high heaven and is banned in many hotels as a result), tiny round fruits with green hairs sprouting liberally from the surface. There are rows of whole, peeled coconuts. There are fried pastries and doughnuts. There are vendors who sell crushed ice which in traditional Thai style you top with various gelatinous objects and sweet, sugary syrup. There is so much more food than what I’ve just named, all just sitting there on the street, impossible to ignore. You walk a block in Thailand and you’ve seen an entire nation worth of cuisine.

My stomach was too confused to eat a real meal that night. Poor thing had been subject to airplane food for 25 hours, couldn’t blame it. So instead I enjoyed a delicious fruit shake. There are tons of stalls selling these all over Thailand, and it’s sort of the equivalent to an American smoothie. Except take out the sugar, the frozen yogurt, the booster powders, the frozen nature of the fruit. A fruit shake here is crushed ice and insanely fresh fruit. I had a coconut one and it was one of the best drinks I’ve ever head. Bursting with the flavor of the coconut, far more than any frozen concoction ever could.

And then finally, finally, I went back to the hotel, and slept for twelve hours. I think I might have woken up once. It was glorious. The next morning I met the rest of the Teach in Thailand kids at breakfast (every morning we had breakfast at the hotel-a huge spread of western favorites like French toast and pastries along side thai staples like noodles and rice). On first impression they were a really cool, interesting bunch, and that impression remained the rest of the orientation. We’re definitely from all over. I’m one of a handful from the east coast, and one of only two southerners. There are two Canadians, one Australian and a Russian who came later. Without much preamble we were herded onto a bus and taken immediately to one of Bangkok’s and Thailand’s famous sites, the Grand Palace and the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Looking back that whole experience is kind of a blur. My jet lag was starting to really set in, it was so, so hot (we’re right at the tail end of Thailand’s hottest month), I was trying to meet everyone and learn everyone’s names, we were led by a tiny, Thai woman who was half tour guide, half drill sergeant. I was wearing capris (quite tasteful ones if I do say so myself and the second we got off the bus, she took me by the hand, led me to a little stall selling wrap around skirts and put the skirt over my pants herself). Apparently capris are not appropriate clothing for going to a temple, who knew? What I do remember is that it was this colossal structure of gold and gems and statues, techni-color bright and elaborate and ornate and huge. There were elephants and monkeys aplenty (the statue kind, not the live kind mind you). I saw the emerald Buddha (which you have to knee in front of and take careful consideration to now point the soles of your feet in its direction). I blessed myself with holy Buddhist water using a lotus flower. I did several other things that are supposed to bring good luck. I took lots of pictures, which is good, because again, the events of this day are sort of blurry.

I do remember with more clarity our boat ride in the river. Bangkok has a river flowing through it, and there are houses lining it. We took an hour ride through the river on a traditional Thai longboat, although it had a motor so maybe not so traditional. The boat went very fast and I spent a lot of time trying not to inhale spray from the not so clean river, but I did make some observations. For the first time I really noticed the spirit houses I had read about in the guide book. They’re little structures that are built near pretty much every house/office/building in Thailand. It all goes back to animism which to grossly oversimplify is a belief in spirits in all living things that is prevalent in Thai culture. You’ll see the tiniest, beaten down shack and sure enough there will be a little spirit house, kind of like a larger, more elaborate bird house, usually white but with colorful trim, with little statues and offerings all over it. Other observations-the tiniest, most beaten down shacks will also often have satellites on their roofs, kind of a nice commentary on our technology obsessed times. There are some really beautiful trees and flowers in Thailand, even in its biggest, busiest city. There are coconuts and palm trees everywhere.

After the boat ride we ate lunch at a restaurant on the river. There has been some stiff competition, but this meal was perhaps the best I’ve had in Thailand thus far. This might be due to the fact that this meal coincided with my first ever spicy prawn soup, aka, the most amazing dish known to man. It’s a soup flavored with lemon grass and chilies (and many, many other things which I will one day look up and try to recreate), bursting with delicate prawns (aka shrimp) and mushrooms, and so, so, so good. It’s sweet. It’s spicy. It has more flavor in one bowl than some seven course meals have in all of their assorted dishes. Please go out to a Thai restaurant and try it if you’re curious because it’s really incredible. Subtle, nuanced, aromatic, but most importantly, utterly tasty. I also got my first real glimpse into staples of Thai food. Lots of fried seafood. Lots of rice. Lots of ambiguous meat (delicious yes, but ambiguous, you’re never quite sure if you’re getting chicken or pork or some other anonymous meat). Lots of spice. Like coughing, gulping water, nose running at the table spicy. I have to admit something. Before I came here I thought I could handle spicy. I put hot sauce liberally on things (the extra hot kind even). I sought spicy food out at restaurants. I grew up with a Texan for a mom after all. But coming here, well, I realize I don’t know from spicy. Thai mild is American extra extra extra hot. And I’m pretty sure all I’ve had so far is mild (apparently they don’t usually serve real spicy to farang-aka foreigners who obviously can’t handle it). But wow, even mild, is the kind of spicy where you’re panting by the end of it. Awesome but intense. Random aside, I’ve learned that to combat spicy food you’re not supposed to drink water. Water actually makes it worse and spreads the spiciness around in your mouth. What you’re really supposed to do it eat rice. Hence why every meal here is served with tons of the white stuff.

After lunch we had our first course of lessons (we had many over the orientation) and of course one day into the trip I immediately get sick. I never get sick at home and one day in Thailand and my throat is horribly sore and I feel like poo. This did allow me a glimpse into how pharmacies work in Thailand though. Pretty much everything is over the counter. I walked into a pharmacy the next morning and literally pointed to the amoxicillin behind the counter. And it cost ten dollars, no insurance, no nothing. I’ll let you digest that for a second. Pretty much we are grossly overcharged in America and maybe there’s some good reason behind it, but I’m just saying. How come in Thailand, a relatively less affluent culture than the US, people can get their meds for dirt cheap while I spent 80 dollars a refill on my prescription meds before I came here. End of mini rant.

So this blog is crazy long and I’ve only reached my second day. I think I’m going to have to leave it here for the moment and continue where I left off next time. I’ll try to post more frequently and get caught up to the present. I will say that this experience is only a week old and already I’m feeling like something important is happening to me. Thailand is pretty amazing. I miss home, but I’m this trip it for the long haul (or the 5 month haul). I can’t wait to see what happens next.

to be continued...

So I'm going to make it short and sweet tonight. It's my last night in America before I embark on a 5 plus month journey to Thailand. And there are about a million things going through my head and heart. But the one thing I know with absolute certainty is that I'm ready for this. I've been waiting for this. I think I've been waiting since the day almost a year ago when I graduated from college and somehow got stuck. And I've been stuck since then, in this half way world between college and a real adult life. There have been many wonderful moments in this little half life. I've had a lot of fun and spent time with two amazing little babies who made me smile every day. But it hasn't really been a life, at least not the life I want to lead. And it has always been my firm belief that you make life happen. You can't just wait around for it to happen to you, because more often than not life will pass you by. And starting tomorrow I'm no longer waiting. I'm "going confidently in the direction of my dreams." I'm going to "sail, dream, discover." I'm going to fly completely by the seat of my pants. I'm going to be terrified. But the best things I've done in life so far have been things that terrify me. As I sit here on my bed with that familiar high anxiety, shaky, almost nauseous feeling, I can't help but think back on the other nights I've spent in this very room, brimming over with nervousness about what the next day would bring. The night before I left for school in Charleston. The night before I flew to Paris for a semester abroad. Never in my life have I been so scared as I was those two nights. And never in my life have I been so profoundly and wonderfully changed.

So here goes. My next blog will be from Thailand (I'm hoping I can work out an internet situation there, I've bought enough mobile internet related technology to launch a small aircraft into space so I think I'll be covered). But for now it's to be continued.