There is a reason why Thailand is called the Land of Smiles. It's because everyone smiles, except the King. And assholes. And since I know what the King looks like, that combined with the fact that he is so not an asshole and doesn't drive taxis, I have now decided I will not go with any taxi driver who doesn't smile. Because they're an asshole. Doesn't matter if they are a motorcycle taxi or a traditional taxi car, life is too short to go anywhere with assholes, much less pay them for the time you spend with them.
The other night, I took the kids on a long walk and as a treat, got them fruit smoothies. I had asked a guard to please radio the gang of motorcycle taxi drivers outside Farang Village so that we could have a ride back, both because the kids were whining and because there was an impending monsoon downpour. Two men showed up and had to wait perhaps 4 minutes for us to finish paying and make our way over to them. With Talia, that could take longer than just a few adult steps. I watched as one smiled at her, the other checked his watch and loudly complained when I confirmed that the price was 30 baht to get to our home. He said something about waiting forever for us. I asked him not to yell in front of my children, and that if he didn't want to take us, then he was free to ride on into the sunset. He didn't, so I let him take us home. Angry about his attitude, I paid him 30 baht and he took off, revving his engine. As for the other guy, who smiled still, I paid him 100, and thanked him profusely for being such a nice guy. He said, "no problem!" and went off, hopefully to tell his buddy that he got a 70 baht tip.
Unsatisfied with myself that I even allowed him to take us home, I swore that never again would I even do that.
I was tested just this morning. I had gone to the local hardware store to pick up some crap for the house (they were playing Christmas music...another blog for another day about the wildly inappropriate use of American music in Thailand). Laden with about 4 bags of miscellaneous but heavy things, I went to the taxi stand and took the next driver in line. Walking to his cab, I wanted to be sure he knew how to get back to Farang Village, because I sure didn't. I had heard that sometimes they'll take you down the road a bit and then ask, "so, how do we get there?" Or they drive around forever until you say, "shouldn't you take that road over there?" I thought at the time he hadn't heard me, so I repeated it twice until he turned around, frowning and snapped, "Why?"
WTF?
Because in my shock I didn't have an answer, so he repeated, "Why would you ask me that?"
Again, WTF? "Because some people don't know the way. Like me."
"Why do you think I wouldn't know the way?"
Stare down. Long five seconds. He doesn't return my smile.
"Ok. Never mind. I'm not going with you. You have a sucky attitude."
The motorcycle taxi driver about five feet away was more than happy to drive me home. I would have flipped the bird as we pulled away, but alas, my fingers were holding onto my bags and I just couldn't get it free in time.
Back in the US, when people don't smile back at you, it's not a big deal. In fact, I don't know that I approach many strangers with a smile myself. If it's business, it's business. But in Thailand, the business comes second. A smile is first. It's a way of showing that you're alright with the state of the world, that you're a nice person, or that simply and frankly, you're not an asshole. In Thailand, if you're an asshole, you're a scarey asshole. It's like everything else in Thailand that seems to be on steroids- if it's spicy, it'll hurt like hell and make your eyes pour water. If it's sweet, it is so over the top sweet that even my kids turn up their noses at whatever it is. If it's a celebration, a death, a show, a costume, a bouqet of flowers, or anything else, it's so over the top you wonder how in the world anyone has time or energy for such exaggeration. So why should assholes be any different? So when a Thai taxi driver is willing to put his or her energy into not smiling, just say, "Mai pen rai" (rough translation, fu-gedabowdit), because worse things are behind that sour face.
So, my new promise to myself- Life is just too short to go with assholes, ever.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Middle Class
Sorry, everyone. See, I have totally misled you. Maybe, perhaps, at least just temporarily. But you clearly thought the blog from Thailand would be about this misplaced teacher, gingerly attempting to manage her life as a single mom in a third world country. Perhaps you thought there would be stories of weird food, comic miscommunications due to strange customs and language barriers, and so forth. You know, like the time I ate a duck's head, or had to spend the entire day (8 hours) in excruitiating boredom watching beauty pagents, without a book even, because I thought my Thai host was taking me some place entirely different. But that was 13 years ago. This is different.
See, tonight, I took the boys to a Cubs Scout recruitment meeting. In our group were three working dads who were really excited about taking their boys fishing, me, and someone's maid. Then afterwards, we went to get ourselves a smoothie down by the lake.
Now does that sound like I'm in Thailand??? Maybe if I told you I transported the boys there on a scooter, and that while we drank our smooties we counted geckos on the wall, you would believe again that I really did leave the country.
But it turns out, my blogs are turning into life as a middle class Westerner. Albeit, that is a totally different lifestyle than what I'm used to. I'm used to working two jobs to make ends meet, and would never have had time to go to a Cubs scout meeting much less recruitment meeting, much less have been able to pay for the uniform fees and outtings. I mean, how much would a weekend swimming with Dolphins cost in the US? Here, it should put us back a whole $200. For me and the three kids. Maybe less.
So the only weird food that I'm encountering so far are the european cookies on the shelf next to the oreos, and the biggest comic miscommunication has been...well, I suppose there hasn't been one. Everyone speaks English.
But this adventure is not without its ways to scrape off the superficial level of things and get to what lies beneath. I have a special relationship with the morning guard at the school, who quickly spread the word throughout the grapevine that I speak excellent Thai. So custodians, library assistants, and office workers know me by face and name and are outgoing and friendly to me as I go from place to place in the building. I benefit by finding out from there where the best fresh vegetable market is, where I can buy black beans for cheap instead of processed in the farang supermarket, and I can count on immediate help jacking up the motorscooter and jump starting it when I leave the keys in the ignition and drain the battery. (Cut me some slack. I've owned a motorscooter for 8 days. It totally throws me off that the engine quits when you put the kick stand down.)
But today I got a grandiose treat that only being in Thailand could afford. The school hosted a special Khon Performance- the traditional Thai dance, in fabulously sparkly Thai silk costumes and masks. They explained how each movement meant something, and then performed a scene from their major production. The scene involved the Thai Monkey-God Hanuman talking with a very sassy monk. It was elegant in nature, but crass and SO Thai in performance. At one point in a mock argument the monk called Hanuman an asshole. In Thai. You could tell where the Thai middle school students were sitting in the audience from their screams. Try that in America, I say.
So, I apologize that this isn't about getting lost on a river taxi, or eating fried insects, or whatever else blogs about living in developing countries involve. I'm woefully and suddenly upper middle class. But I'm trying to find out what advantages that affords me that will add color and vibrance to our lives, without numbing our senses and dulling our edges with luxury. Because I ask all of you to promise me, if I end up like this parent I talked to at the smoothie restaurant, come and get me. She's been here for 19 years, has a driver, a cook and a maid. She said, "I can't go anywhere else. What would I do without them?" If I can't answer that question with substantive, meaningful answers, take me home.
See, tonight, I took the boys to a Cubs Scout recruitment meeting. In our group were three working dads who were really excited about taking their boys fishing, me, and someone's maid. Then afterwards, we went to get ourselves a smoothie down by the lake.
Now does that sound like I'm in Thailand??? Maybe if I told you I transported the boys there on a scooter, and that while we drank our smooties we counted geckos on the wall, you would believe again that I really did leave the country.
But it turns out, my blogs are turning into life as a middle class Westerner. Albeit, that is a totally different lifestyle than what I'm used to. I'm used to working two jobs to make ends meet, and would never have had time to go to a Cubs scout meeting much less recruitment meeting, much less have been able to pay for the uniform fees and outtings. I mean, how much would a weekend swimming with Dolphins cost in the US? Here, it should put us back a whole $200. For me and the three kids. Maybe less.
So the only weird food that I'm encountering so far are the european cookies on the shelf next to the oreos, and the biggest comic miscommunication has been...well, I suppose there hasn't been one. Everyone speaks English.
But this adventure is not without its ways to scrape off the superficial level of things and get to what lies beneath. I have a special relationship with the morning guard at the school, who quickly spread the word throughout the grapevine that I speak excellent Thai. So custodians, library assistants, and office workers know me by face and name and are outgoing and friendly to me as I go from place to place in the building. I benefit by finding out from there where the best fresh vegetable market is, where I can buy black beans for cheap instead of processed in the farang supermarket, and I can count on immediate help jacking up the motorscooter and jump starting it when I leave the keys in the ignition and drain the battery. (Cut me some slack. I've owned a motorscooter for 8 days. It totally throws me off that the engine quits when you put the kick stand down.)
But today I got a grandiose treat that only being in Thailand could afford. The school hosted a special Khon Performance- the traditional Thai dance, in fabulously sparkly Thai silk costumes and masks. They explained how each movement meant something, and then performed a scene from their major production. The scene involved the Thai Monkey-God Hanuman talking with a very sassy monk. It was elegant in nature, but crass and SO Thai in performance. At one point in a mock argument the monk called Hanuman an asshole. In Thai. You could tell where the Thai middle school students were sitting in the audience from their screams. Try that in America, I say.
So, I apologize that this isn't about getting lost on a river taxi, or eating fried insects, or whatever else blogs about living in developing countries involve. I'm woefully and suddenly upper middle class. But I'm trying to find out what advantages that affords me that will add color and vibrance to our lives, without numbing our senses and dulling our edges with luxury. Because I ask all of you to promise me, if I end up like this parent I talked to at the smoothie restaurant, come and get me. She's been here for 19 years, has a driver, a cook and a maid. She said, "I can't go anywhere else. What would I do without them?" If I can't answer that question with substantive, meaningful answers, take me home.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Norming
As I write this, the evening monsoon is pouring down it's greatest attempt ever to cleanse this city of cities. It's as if a special effects man is standing on my roof literally heaving buckets of water over the edge, while thunder rumbles across the sky. And I think to myself, ok. Rain. That's normal. Monsoons, that's not normal.
I do this as an exercise, so I can start to see how I can "normalize" life here in Thailand. I think it helps to identify those things that are "normal" (such as internet, Cartoon Network, and my iTunes playing Ani DiFranco) and juxtapose them against the things that are not "normal" (such as riding a scooter to work, the Thai soap operas ...they've gotten worse... and this apartment as 'home'). The hope is that eventually, my list of "normal" starts to get longer as I get used to things here, and "not normal" remains a fixed list of those things that I recognize as those things to which I can't or won't normalize against.
In case you were wondering, it's quite unlike being here as a Peace Corps volunteer. Then I was clearly a stranger in a strange land. The token "farang," Western within the door of my home but constantly adapting to Thailand whenever I stepped outside. It took me a while, but I got used to that life- my soy milk lady knew when I had been away for a few days ("maksidad, mah deh sai? by nan luy, dur!") and the MeKong River was always welcoming when I came to see what color the water was that day. This norming happened to all of us, all you guys who lived with me here at that time. Dare tell me you don't occasionally jones for some sticky rice and grilled chicken, I'll tell you "ya gohok, se." Didn't we all learn to live without tv, no phone, no internet...when we learned to live closely with ourselves, exercise unimaginable patience in unbelievably boring situations, and develop some language skills that totally kicked "dooh" by the time we all left, specifically because we never wanted to go through life without knowing what it was like somewhere totally different?
Well, it's not like that here in Farang Village, aka "Nichada Thani." Within the gates, we farangs are the lords and ladies of the land. It is where Thais become invisible and dismissable. Cable tv with an abundance of channels, gyms, a Starbucks, a western grocery store...it's all in here. And if that's not enough, then you can go just outside the gates and encounter Big C (think UBER Wal-Mart) or Central Mall with its western gadgets and prices. You could seriously live here without ever having to speak Thai. You could live among other Westerners, eat Western food, and just get by totally without speaking a word of Thai.
Hmmmmm. It's funny. It makes me think of the Hispanic communities back in Virginia. You know the ones, where people come here from Guatemala or El Salvador, move in together, huddle together at the bus stops, shop together at World Market and eat together at Pollo Loco. They're the ones that don't learn American history, the English language, and are just there to take advantage of the economy that allows them to live by a higher standard than they would ever have back home. And they're looked down upon for that...
Yet here in Thailand, it's wonderfully ok. In fact, it's been my observation that it's the "norm" here to live as one would in the US, Canada, Australia, or wherever they are coming from. And there are no Thais demanding legislation or requiring us to learn their constitution or language in order to reap the benefits that their economy affords us.
Ok, that was a total deviation from where I was planning on going...just thought...interesting.
So, I have been wondering for quite some time, how do I normalize? What's my "norm"?? Am I a westerner that orders in pizza and surfs Facebook every night? Undeniably. But is that all? I know I'm not a Thai, of that I'm sure. I don't think fart jokes are funny, especially when grown men perform acts of farting as a joke on national television. I don't ever plan to go without my bra with a mouth full of beetlenut. I also just don't know how to read, no matter how hard I try to decode the letters. But you can easily find me out "kweeing" with the guards, nannies, mae bahns at the school, and of course, those fascinating taxi drivers that seem to never get over the fact that a farang is speaking Thai to them. We cook a pot of rice every day, and bring home "gap kao" every night from the markets outside the gates. I hang bags of pineapple from my scooter handles and occasionally, drive too fast, too slow, on both sides of the road, and stop at random intervals-all within 50 yards along any given road. I forget that teachers around me aren't my PC friends who could speak Thai often much better than I could, and have found myself more than once actually a little annoyed at them for living here for 2, 3 even 10 years and still unable to appreciate a play on words in Thai, of which there are many.
And when, if, I normalize, how will my kids normalize? They have even farther to go than I do. They have actual family members here. They will be inextricably tied to this country long after I am able to return to the US and blend back in with my own family. They are biologically linked to this country. How far will they need to go to "norm"?
Or maybe, what we need, is to get to the point in which "not normal," is just simply "normal." Where there is no abnormal, everything abnormal is... Woa. I think I just had a flashback to college, there.
We've only been here 2 weeks. I think these adjustments are normal (there we go again) and the struggle to find who I am in all of this was something I went to with eyes wide open. So I'll continue to keep you posted about adjustments, norming, and life on the otherside of the world. Thanks for all your genuine support!!
I do this as an exercise, so I can start to see how I can "normalize" life here in Thailand. I think it helps to identify those things that are "normal" (such as internet, Cartoon Network, and my iTunes playing Ani DiFranco) and juxtapose them against the things that are not "normal" (such as riding a scooter to work, the Thai soap operas ...they've gotten worse... and this apartment as 'home'). The hope is that eventually, my list of "normal" starts to get longer as I get used to things here, and "not normal" remains a fixed list of those things that I recognize as those things to which I can't or won't normalize against.
In case you were wondering, it's quite unlike being here as a Peace Corps volunteer. Then I was clearly a stranger in a strange land. The token "farang," Western within the door of my home but constantly adapting to Thailand whenever I stepped outside. It took me a while, but I got used to that life- my soy milk lady knew when I had been away for a few days ("maksidad, mah deh sai? by nan luy, dur!") and the MeKong River was always welcoming when I came to see what color the water was that day. This norming happened to all of us, all you guys who lived with me here at that time. Dare tell me you don't occasionally jones for some sticky rice and grilled chicken, I'll tell you "ya gohok, se." Didn't we all learn to live without tv, no phone, no internet...when we learned to live closely with ourselves, exercise unimaginable patience in unbelievably boring situations, and develop some language skills that totally kicked "dooh" by the time we all left, specifically because we never wanted to go through life without knowing what it was like somewhere totally different?
Well, it's not like that here in Farang Village, aka "Nichada Thani." Within the gates, we farangs are the lords and ladies of the land. It is where Thais become invisible and dismissable. Cable tv with an abundance of channels, gyms, a Starbucks, a western grocery store...it's all in here. And if that's not enough, then you can go just outside the gates and encounter Big C (think UBER Wal-Mart) or Central Mall with its western gadgets and prices. You could seriously live here without ever having to speak Thai. You could live among other Westerners, eat Western food, and just get by totally without speaking a word of Thai.
Hmmmmm. It's funny. It makes me think of the Hispanic communities back in Virginia. You know the ones, where people come here from Guatemala or El Salvador, move in together, huddle together at the bus stops, shop together at World Market and eat together at Pollo Loco. They're the ones that don't learn American history, the English language, and are just there to take advantage of the economy that allows them to live by a higher standard than they would ever have back home. And they're looked down upon for that...
Yet here in Thailand, it's wonderfully ok. In fact, it's been my observation that it's the "norm" here to live as one would in the US, Canada, Australia, or wherever they are coming from. And there are no Thais demanding legislation or requiring us to learn their constitution or language in order to reap the benefits that their economy affords us.
Ok, that was a total deviation from where I was planning on going...just thought...interesting.
So, I have been wondering for quite some time, how do I normalize? What's my "norm"?? Am I a westerner that orders in pizza and surfs Facebook every night? Undeniably. But is that all? I know I'm not a Thai, of that I'm sure. I don't think fart jokes are funny, especially when grown men perform acts of farting as a joke on national television. I don't ever plan to go without my bra with a mouth full of beetlenut. I also just don't know how to read, no matter how hard I try to decode the letters. But you can easily find me out "kweeing" with the guards, nannies, mae bahns at the school, and of course, those fascinating taxi drivers that seem to never get over the fact that a farang is speaking Thai to them. We cook a pot of rice every day, and bring home "gap kao" every night from the markets outside the gates. I hang bags of pineapple from my scooter handles and occasionally, drive too fast, too slow, on both sides of the road, and stop at random intervals-all within 50 yards along any given road. I forget that teachers around me aren't my PC friends who could speak Thai often much better than I could, and have found myself more than once actually a little annoyed at them for living here for 2, 3 even 10 years and still unable to appreciate a play on words in Thai, of which there are many.
And when, if, I normalize, how will my kids normalize? They have even farther to go than I do. They have actual family members here. They will be inextricably tied to this country long after I am able to return to the US and blend back in with my own family. They are biologically linked to this country. How far will they need to go to "norm"?
Or maybe, what we need, is to get to the point in which "not normal," is just simply "normal." Where there is no abnormal, everything abnormal is... Woa. I think I just had a flashback to college, there.
We've only been here 2 weeks. I think these adjustments are normal (there we go again) and the struggle to find who I am in all of this was something I went to with eyes wide open. So I'll continue to keep you posted about adjustments, norming, and life on the otherside of the world. Thanks for all your genuine support!!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Sawatdi jak muang Thai na kha
Holy crap, I'm really in Thailand. I opened up my lap top to write tonight and the whole shebang came up in Thai.
First, let me just tell you all that I can't wait for my kids to arrive tomorrow. I feel like I'm waiting in paradise for them, and they're going to step off the plane into complete chaos but slowly I'll be able to reveal to them that this.is.living.the.dream. For rizzle.
I left the US in the daytime. Then I didn't pay attention to the windows for the entire flight, and arrived in BKK in the middle of the night. My principal (YES, my PRINCIPAL) picked me up at the airport and took me back to the SWEET garden style hotel I am staying at until our SWEET apartment is ready tomorrow. I came in, wrestled and killed a human sized cockroach (to which my principal replied, "Nice. First kill."), turned on the air, gave my principal some smoked samon and a hug for his kindness, then fell face first into bed and didn't wake up until the Tookay woke me up in the morning. For those of you not in the know, Tookays are these larger than life lizards that scream at you their name "Tookay Tookay Tookay," just so you don't forget what they're called. I opened my door to the first light of the day, my first day light since the US, and HOLY CRAP. I knew I was in the right place. Home. Seriously.
Palm trees, sputtering motorcycles, cooing of mourning doves, hot and sweaty city smell, and the unreplicable feeling of being in Thailand. Fantastic.
Right now I am sitting outside my room, listening to a call to prayer -as amazingly the school is in the Thai Muslim section of town-and feeling like there is no way I can express to you my happiness and peaceful feeling at the sensation, knowledge and awareness that I'm in the right place.
In addition to this absolute satisfaction of being back here, I am also blown away by the school. Teacher friends, I've found Paradise. This is where really good teachers go when we die. The school is the Rolls Royce of international schools, dare I say of any type of school in general, and their IB diploma graduation rate, PISA results, and general high achievement of the students are the type of testimony that big wigs and data crunchers salivate over. But if you're just into good teaching, doing what's right by students, working collaboratively with some exceptionally creative and well rounded individuals, then this is where it's at. This is where "what works" meets reality. This is also where the best educators you can assemble in one room assemble in one room. I've met some highly impressive people, not just their titles of previous manifestations of their lives, but their creative ideas and open mindedness. It was really not a surprise to me to learn that 3,000 people applied for our 40 jobs. The school has a reputation for excellence, and I can see after just one day of orientation that there is a solid, valid reason for that.
To boot, as if I need anything more than just to be in Thailand at an amazing school, there is a Mexican restaurant just 10-15 minutes walk from where I am staying. I really don't mean to sound so shallow, but the school sponsored dinner for us tonight, all 40 of us newbies, and included an open bar tab. I mean, seriously??????? You had me at "Thailand"!!!
And (there's MORE????!), my Peace Corps friends, you'll appreciate this the most. After a great meal, great conversation, and three margaritas, I was walking back to my hotel when I passed the mandatory 7-11 that must be on every other street corner. I was toasty warm from my buzz, happy from a day of high stimulation, and thought it couldn't get any better. But then I saw him. The Roti Man. For those of you that don't know what it is, I guess it's like crepes or something. But I can only just describe him as Angelic. He produces pieces of Heaven that you can eat. His mission in life is delivering the Yum. And he was right there. I mean, come on.
So tonight, I am well friends. Happy, content, confident, and optimistic about what this turn on my course will bring.
Sawatdi, and good night.
First, let me just tell you all that I can't wait for my kids to arrive tomorrow. I feel like I'm waiting in paradise for them, and they're going to step off the plane into complete chaos but slowly I'll be able to reveal to them that this.is.living.the.dream. For rizzle.
I left the US in the daytime. Then I didn't pay attention to the windows for the entire flight, and arrived in BKK in the middle of the night. My principal (YES, my PRINCIPAL) picked me up at the airport and took me back to the SWEET garden style hotel I am staying at until our SWEET apartment is ready tomorrow. I came in, wrestled and killed a human sized cockroach (to which my principal replied, "Nice. First kill."), turned on the air, gave my principal some smoked samon and a hug for his kindness, then fell face first into bed and didn't wake up until the Tookay woke me up in the morning. For those of you not in the know, Tookays are these larger than life lizards that scream at you their name "Tookay Tookay Tookay," just so you don't forget what they're called. I opened my door to the first light of the day, my first day light since the US, and HOLY CRAP. I knew I was in the right place. Home. Seriously.
Palm trees, sputtering motorcycles, cooing of mourning doves, hot and sweaty city smell, and the unreplicable feeling of being in Thailand. Fantastic.
Right now I am sitting outside my room, listening to a call to prayer -as amazingly the school is in the Thai Muslim section of town-and feeling like there is no way I can express to you my happiness and peaceful feeling at the sensation, knowledge and awareness that I'm in the right place.
In addition to this absolute satisfaction of being back here, I am also blown away by the school. Teacher friends, I've found Paradise. This is where really good teachers go when we die. The school is the Rolls Royce of international schools, dare I say of any type of school in general, and their IB diploma graduation rate, PISA results, and general high achievement of the students are the type of testimony that big wigs and data crunchers salivate over. But if you're just into good teaching, doing what's right by students, working collaboratively with some exceptionally creative and well rounded individuals, then this is where it's at. This is where "what works" meets reality. This is also where the best educators you can assemble in one room assemble in one room. I've met some highly impressive people, not just their titles of previous manifestations of their lives, but their creative ideas and open mindedness. It was really not a surprise to me to learn that 3,000 people applied for our 40 jobs. The school has a reputation for excellence, and I can see after just one day of orientation that there is a solid, valid reason for that.
To boot, as if I need anything more than just to be in Thailand at an amazing school, there is a Mexican restaurant just 10-15 minutes walk from where I am staying. I really don't mean to sound so shallow, but the school sponsored dinner for us tonight, all 40 of us newbies, and included an open bar tab. I mean, seriously??????? You had me at "Thailand"!!!
And (there's MORE????!), my Peace Corps friends, you'll appreciate this the most. After a great meal, great conversation, and three margaritas, I was walking back to my hotel when I passed the mandatory 7-11 that must be on every other street corner. I was toasty warm from my buzz, happy from a day of high stimulation, and thought it couldn't get any better. But then I saw him. The Roti Man. For those of you that don't know what it is, I guess it's like crepes or something. But I can only just describe him as Angelic. He produces pieces of Heaven that you can eat. His mission in life is delivering the Yum. And he was right there. I mean, come on.
So tonight, I am well friends. Happy, content, confident, and optimistic about what this turn on my course will bring.
Sawatdi, and good night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)