Confessions of Hong Thong victim

There are a lot of ridiculously funny and uncomfortable things that happen to me here.  Most of them involve a bathroom, insect, or language-based misunderstanding, but sometimes there are those gloriously awkward situational gems that just need to be blogged about.  Here's mine from this week:

Earlier this week, my village took the dreaded karaoke bus to the beach.  I've written about this joyous form of transportation before, so I'll spare you the details, not to mention there is no real way to describe the surreal event that is the karaoke bus.  But here is a picture of one of the buses to give you an idea of just how "magical" it is. 

I wasn't lucky enough to be on Santa Bus,
but don't fret! They all have some strange airbrushed art.

This time we left at 9 p.m. for an overnight journey to Koh Samet, an island in the Gulf of Thailand.  Twelve hours of Thai karaoke and two busted ear drums later, we made it to the beach, where we boarded a private boat for our 35 minute journey to the island which was, you guessed it, equipped with a KARAOKE machine!  Yay!!

If you've never been to Thailand, you've probably never had everyone point and yell "FARANG" at you, or refer to you as "the Farang" when you are sitting right across the table from them.  Side note: It also means "guava" so I like to make a funnies with my co-workers when I'm eating guava.  "Farang gin farang," I say.  This means "farang eats farang."  I think it's funny.  And so do they.

Mostly, I hate the word - and sometimes it literally makes my skin crawl when I hear it - but there are rare times when I find it funny: like when I'm the token farang with a group of Thais and I get to point at other farangs and yell "FARANG" and everyone just dies laughing. 

So this is what I spent most of the day at the beach doing.  Hanging with my Thai girlfriends talking about the sunbathing farangs.  And before I knew it, the day was over and we headed back to the boat. 

By this time, most of the men had polished off a few bottles of Hong Thong whiskey and were already enjoying the on-ship karaoke machine.  One of those men is someone I always see and usually talk to at community events.  He's about my age and I've noticed he watches out for me, ie: he protects me from the drunk people and the overzealous folks who might happen to get a little too excited about the resident farang.  And I'm very thankful for that.  He has always been nothing but kind and proper and still remains that way. 

However, on this particular day, he may have had a wee bit too much whiskey. 

When I got on the boat, he busy singing karaoke, but motioned for me to sit down in the front row of seats.  So, stupidly, I went ahead and sat down.  And when I did, he began to serenade me with a song about how I am 31 years old but still very beautiful and then professed his love for me.  In front of the entire boat.  Everyone I work with and many of the important community leaders were watching.  I didn't really know what to do, so I just sat there, smiled, and said thank you. 

And then he presented me with an Angry Birds flashlight wand thing.  Normally, I would have preferred flowers, but the flashlight wand was actually pretty cool. 

Coming Up for Air

A couple of years ago when I was rafting the Nile River, the guide, Roberto, instructed us on how to survive if we happened to be chucked into the rapids. 

"Tuck yourself into the fetal position and count to 10," Roberto said. "You'll rise to the surface and you can catch a breath of air.  If you try to fight the current, it will continue to pull you under and you'll drown." 

I was able to apply his little lesson later that day when our boat flipped in a class 5 rapid which was, if I remember correctly, about the size of Niagra Falls.  After churning under the water for what seemed like days, I finally stopped fighting the current and, not surprisingly, popped above the surface for a quick intake of air. 

I started thinking about this about a month ago, when I ran into a situation with my village that might have caused someone else to finally give up and go home. It was hurtful and it was shocking and I won't go into it, but it was the point when I finally stopped fighting and finally came up for air. 

And damn did it feel good to breathe again.

Up until then, I had been, in some way or another, fighting the current of Thailand.  I had been resistant to - and even afraid of - the culture, the language, attempts at friendships, and general integration since coming to Thailand in January.  There are a lot of things about coming here that have made me angry: missing friends and family, a failed relationship, the guilt of leaving people behind (specifically my dog - yes, I consider him a person, my favorite person actually), not being able to eat cheese, not being understood, being told what to do: when to shower, eat, and speak, and essentially not being treated like the independent 30-year-old woman I am who is quite used to traipsing across the globe alone or with very little supervision.  And true to my nature, I've gone down throwing as many punches as I've been able. 

I was drowning.  And it was exhausting. 

Along with opening my lungs, I re-opened my heart.  My friendships are better, my language is improving, and I'm actually starting to make an impact.  Little by little, I have stopped fighting and have started letting go.  Every time I do, it gets a little easier to be here.  And it makes knowing that I'll be here another 20 months feel a little less like drowning.  

So, Thailand, if you see me pause and tuck myself into the fetal position, don't be alarmed.  I'm just trying to catch my breath.

My Big Fat Thai Wedding

Last week I was invited to a wedding.  It was beautiful and, by far, the best wedding I've been to in Thailand.  The bride is a nurse, thus, the wedding was held at the local hospital and other nurses stopped by during their break.

I had only met the bride once, but she was so excited to have me there that I ended up in what I believe are a majority of her wedding pictures.

With some of her nursing colleagues...

With some of her friends and family...

And then, as if it couldn't get more awkward, people started asking to take pictures just with me - without the bride and groom. 

At first I felt bad about this, but the bride and groom seemed to really be enjoying all the fuss as I posed for what seemed like hundreds of prom photos with people I had never met before. 

However, it didn't really hit me until today, when I was listening to This American Life's program about ex-patriots living in China (thank you El for sharing it with me), that no matter how long I live here, I'm always going to be different and strange.  An outsider.  A novelty, even.  Sometimes that will be celebrated - like at the wedding.  And sometimes it will make me feel like the smallest, most insignificant being on the planet. 

Ant-capades

Last night, I was having a mosquito problem, so like any normal person would do, I sprayed around the doors and bathroom with bug spray, closed the bathroom door and went back to planning my lesson for my class today.  After about 20 minutes, I happened to look in the direction of the bathroom only to notice that the floor seemed to be moving... twitching, in fact, toward me.  At first, I thought "Wow, that's a lot of mosquitoes..." But to my dismay, I realized they were instead giant, black ants, and they were trying to escape the bug killing spray.  One was even fleeing with a piece of rice for the road.  Not knowing what else to do and armed only with the meager amount of bug spray I had left in my can, I attacked and prayed that the stream of ants rushing out of my sink would come to a stop before the stream of bug nerve-gas gave out. 

I watched them all die as the gas attacked their nervous systems and then swept them back into the bathroom.  Now my drain is clogged with ant bodies and I just don't have the stomach to deal with it yet. 

Recycled ideas

A few years ago when I was visiting a former PCV during her service in Uganda, I came across the phenomenon that is the paper bead jewelry.  I haphazardly purchased a multi-layer paper bead necklace at a market for about two US dollars thinking I would give it to one of my friends in the US.  Instead, like I do with so many of the things I purchase when I'm travelling, I kept it for myself.

If you don't know the story behind paper beads, they are made from recycled paper or paper that would otherwise be filling up landfills or littered about the streets, and more importantly, they provide a skill and income for women (or men) recovering from slavery or struggling in developing nations.  The beads are not always made under these circumstances, I realize, but when I see or wear them, that's what I think of and it gives me hope that there is opportunity in the world for everyone.

Now, not only is this necklace one of my favorite pieces of jewelry, but it's one of my favorite things I own.  I love it. I love what it means to me.  I love what it's made of.  I love the ideas it promotes.  I love that it matches EVERYTHING in my closet.  I love that I have gotten more compliments on a paper necklace than anything I've ever worn or owned.  And, thus, I love that it's a conversation piece. 

So, that being said, I decided to steal the idea for my English/Lifeskills/Art class this week.  This week I am teaching about recycling.  For the most part, rural Thailand has no infrastructure that deals with waste and trash is often burned by the individual who creates it - including plastic, which we all know is super bad for the environment.  Because of this, I wanted my lesson to stress the importance of recycling in general, but also that items can be recycled in a non-traditional way through creating art.  (I'm also trying to create lesson plans and art projects that are inexpensive and require little maintenance so they can be continued after I leave.)  So, we learned that glass, metal, paper, and plastic can be recycled.  Then we drove the vocab home by splitting into groups and playing Memory, the match game.  And last but not least, we drove the issue home with a hands-on art activity: Paper Beads made from old, colorful pages magazines. 

The beads are slightly more difficult to make than the average art project, so I decided to take a chance with my Bpratome 3 class (9-year-olds) since they did so well during last week's class.  The result was amazing.  On to the pictures...

They caught on so much faster than I anticipated

 

They immediately wanted to wear their new necklaces

As you can see, paper beads go with just about anything...

...Including the male gender.  The boys enjoyed making them, too. 

A great bonding moment with the kids - tying their necklaces

 

And they didn't stop... they loved making the beads!

The kids and me with their creations. I'm so proud of them!

I had so much fun with the kids today and I really think they enjoyed making the jewelry and the beads.  I really hope they take it upon themselves to find opportunities for this kind of thing at home.  



Fail.

Well, today was an absolute disaster.  It was my fourth lesson - my second with the 7 year olds - and I'm pretty sure everyone hated it, myself included.   


The vocabulary words were too difficult:   

*crickets*

The games were too hard to explain:

"Everyone shut up so I can explain the game you don't want to play"

And there were a lot of distractions in my "classroom":

Lifeskills: how to make shampoo while the kids in the background learn to say it in English

  

I was teaching about healthy behavior and eating, but the snacks were FILLED with sugar:

Setting a good example...?

But there were some things to be proud about, like the awesome vocab flash cards I made:

Awesome printed flashcards

Even more awesome drawings of the printed flashcards

My ridiculously hopeful project

I just finished the third class of my 'ridiculously hopeful' project.  So far I am ridiculously surprised - and happy - to report it's going so much better than I expected.  I'm sweaty, I'm exhausted from teaching 70 kids, and I'm probably going to get sick from the bowl of rice and something orange I ate for lunch, but I'm feeling productive... Finally.  I have a newfound respect for teachers all over the world.  I struggle to fill just 6 hours of classroom time with activities and learning, so it's hard to imagine what it must be like fill an entire week... week after week.  Kudos to all of you.  You rock! 

Anyway, on to the good parts:  Pics of the classes and the kids. 

Playing "Head Shoulders Knees and Toes"

Drawing

The Nayoke (Mayor) hanging with the kids

Len Game

Day Two: More drawing, different students

Hard at work

Proud little artists

The end!