It's been two weeks since I left Bangkok. Acceptance -- and boredom -- have set in.
In the last two weeks, I've read three novels, applied for a job as a donut baker's helper, cooked two dinners, gotten over jet lag, helped with a garage sale, and sopped several inches of standing water out of the dishwasher with a towel.
It's high time I reflect on what I've learned in the last 10 months, in the form of newly acquired skills I might add to my resume. They are, in no particular order:
zookeeper
animal trainer
competitive athlete
event coordinator
environmentalist
translator
travel agent
detective
professional buyer
chef
crash dummy
barista
diplomat
mind reader
crisis manager
editor
taste tester
exterminator
propagandist
entertainer
graphic artist
financial planner
dancer
This list is scattered, bizarre, and disconnected -- so appropriate to how I felt for much of my time in Thailand.
So what did I learn?
I guess I learned that living abroad and working with locals requires you to be ready for anything and prepared to find creative solutions to whatever problems you face.
I also learned that it's not as difficult, stressful, or intimidating as people may think.
Really, there's too much to say. It's been fun, Thailand. Thanks for teaching me to eat spicy food and dance to pop music. Thanks for the daily sauna treatments and the rainy season soakings. Thanks for the memories. No thanks for the fish balls. I hope to see you again sometime.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
shopaholic
It just takes one look at Bangkok's shopping malls to know that Thai shoppers mean business. The two malls nearest my apartment, Siam Paragon and CentralWorld, make American shopping malls look like a joke.
According to Wikipedia, Paragon has 10 floors with 400,000 square meters of retail space. That's over 4 million square feet. CentralWorld has 11 million square feet of retail space. And these two malls are within walking distance of each other!
Shopping is the Thais' favorite hobby. They're pros. It used to boggle my mind; I was never a big shopper in the U.S.
Now that I'm home, I've found I have a much better understanding of the Thai shopping obsession.
I think it's due in part to the fact that life in Bangkok is basically one big shopping spree. As soon as you walk out the door, you're shopping. It can't be helped. The streets are lined with vendors selling anything and everything, from puzzles to ties, sunglasses to lingerie, massages, fresh honey, fake watches, donuts, flowers, cashews... everything!
In the last 10 months, I bought myself more earrings, scarves, and clothes than I know what to do with. Of course, now that I'm back in the land of the dollar, I've gotta curb my habit.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
ขี้เกียจ
I've been home for a week now and haven't left the house much. I promptly fell ill after my roommate's outdoor wedding in Houston. The (comparatively) dry, cold, pollen-saturated air was too much for my tropically acclimatized lungs to handle.
I'm improving. Yesterday, I was well enough to go out for my first meal of Tex-Mex at Ta Molly's. It was divine. I tried hard not to convert the meal price into baht in my head. Sheesh. I won't be eating out much, that's for sure.
I noticed that I've become used to a different standard of customer service. I ate half my meal and told the waiter I needed to take the rest to go.
I started to hand him my plate, but he walked away and returned with a styrofoam box in hand. I was thrown off for a few seconds, as I'm used to having waitstaff box up my food for me. Another slightly galling fact of life here: I have to prepare my own food if I'm at home and hungry. In my Bangkok apartment, I could pick up the phone at any time and order something from our first-floor restaurant. They brought it to my door in 30 minutes or less. It was so easy!
Or I could walk down the street and have a takeout box full of pad thai in about six minutes for less than 80 cents. Or a pineapple half, or a slice of cold watermelon, or papaya, guava, and all kinds of other fruits. I could walk to the corner and have a fresh fruit smoothie or a latte with cinnamon. Oh! How I miss that!
Even in the heat, humidity, and pollution, walking to get food was easier and quicker than driving or -- heaven forbid -- making it myself!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
last day
I had a splendid last meal in Bangkok -- hummus and naan bread, mandi rice, and chicken tikka masala at Sultan's on Sukhumvit soi 3/1. I'll miss that place. Especially since ethnic cuisine (beyond Tex-Mex, which really doesn't count) is non-existent in Greenville.
My morning was stressful. My luggage was a little overweight. My carry-on was way overweight. I combed through my bags several times to see what I could throw away. I can't even remember what I threw out, so it must not have been anything essential.
Bright offered to drive me to the airport, and it's a good thing, too. Trying to manage two 50-pound suitcases, a 20-pound carry-on, and a shopping bag by myself would have been frustrating and exhausting.
I curled up on a sofa at my gate in the Seattle airport when I arrived and cried a little. I already miss the smells of Bangkok. Only the pleasant ones, of course -- the jasmine garlands being strung together by flower sellers on the street... burning incense wafting onto the sidewalk from a nearby shrine... chai yen brewing at a street stand. I don't miss the bursts of black smog from buses or the occasional whiff of sewage.
Oh, Bangkok.
My morning was stressful. My luggage was a little overweight. My carry-on was way overweight. I combed through my bags several times to see what I could throw away. I can't even remember what I threw out, so it must not have been anything essential.
Bright offered to drive me to the airport, and it's a good thing, too. Trying to manage two 50-pound suitcases, a 20-pound carry-on, and a shopping bag by myself would have been frustrating and exhausting.
I curled up on a sofa at my gate in the Seattle airport when I arrived and cried a little. I already miss the smells of Bangkok. Only the pleasant ones, of course -- the jasmine garlands being strung together by flower sellers on the street... burning incense wafting onto the sidewalk from a nearby shrine... chai yen brewing at a street stand. I don't miss the bursts of black smog from buses or the occasional whiff of sewage.
Oh, Bangkok.
people
Most of my actual travel time getting to/from/around the south of Thailand was done solo. In my last post, I talked about the boy who gave me his watch necklace. He sent me an e-mail telling me he had worried about me riding the train alone. He also attached photos of some of his artwork. I think I have a new pen pal.
I met my second random stranger on an overnight boat from Koh Samui back to the mainland. He introduced himself as Nik -- short for Nikolai. He said he was from Russia and handed me a CD called "Guitar Sounds by Onyx: Shadow of Your Love." He plays on the streets of Moscow for money. He tried it out on Khao San Road in Bangkok, but people weren't so generous.
Nik told me he was cutting his vacation short because he wrecked a motorbike into a car on Samui and had to pay for the damages. He also shared that it was his father's lifelong dream to play music on a Mississippi riverboat. I guess I looked like the right kind of person in which to confide such factoids.
Several days later, I was waiting by the pier on Koh Phi Phi to start my trip back to Bangkok. I had a couple hours to kill before my boat arrived. A Thai man working for a tourist agency sidled up and struck up a conversation.
He was 37 years old and unmarried. I asked why, and learned that he'd spent 14 years living in a forest in the northeast as a monk. He meditated for 10 hours a day for the first seven years. Sometimes he fasted for a month at a time, surviving only on sugar water. For the next seven years, he lived in a room with a bed surrounded by a thousand books. He read them all, and people thought he was a little crazy.
He studied international relations and philosophy in college, including some Western philosophy. His favorite, though, is Indian philosophy. His dream is to move there to study. His other dream is to go to the U.S.
I'm back in the U.S. now, sitting in the Seattle airport. I suppose some sort of reflective post is in order soon. My first observations:
1. It's weird seeing fat policemen.
2. It's weird hearing English spoken without a foreign accent.
More to come.
I met my second random stranger on an overnight boat from Koh Samui back to the mainland. He introduced himself as Nik -- short for Nikolai. He said he was from Russia and handed me a CD called "Guitar Sounds by Onyx: Shadow of Your Love." He plays on the streets of Moscow for money. He tried it out on Khao San Road in Bangkok, but people weren't so generous.
Nik told me he was cutting his vacation short because he wrecked a motorbike into a car on Samui and had to pay for the damages. He also shared that it was his father's lifelong dream to play music on a Mississippi riverboat. I guess I looked like the right kind of person in which to confide such factoids.
Several days later, I was waiting by the pier on Koh Phi Phi to start my trip back to Bangkok. I had a couple hours to kill before my boat arrived. A Thai man working for a tourist agency sidled up and struck up a conversation.
He was 37 years old and unmarried. I asked why, and learned that he'd spent 14 years living in a forest in the northeast as a monk. He meditated for 10 hours a day for the first seven years. Sometimes he fasted for a month at a time, surviving only on sugar water. For the next seven years, he lived in a room with a bed surrounded by a thousand books. He read them all, and people thought he was a little crazy.
He studied international relations and philosophy in college, including some Western philosophy. His favorite, though, is Indian philosophy. His dream is to move there to study. His other dream is to go to the U.S.
I'm back in the U.S. now, sitting in the Seattle airport. I suppose some sort of reflective post is in order soon. My first observations:
1. It's weird seeing fat policemen.
2. It's weird hearing English spoken without a foreign accent.
More to come.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Fine Dining on Sukhumvit
Just a brief overview of some of my favorite restaurants on Sukhumvit.
Sultan's
Sukhumvit soi 3/1
Middle Eastern
Recommendations: Hummus (creamiest I've ever had), Naan bread, Chicken Tikka Masala, any of their curries, Mandi rice. Go with a group and order a couple of dishes to share.
Kuppa
Sukhumvit soi 16
International
Recommendations: The entrees my friends and I tried were just OK. Go there for dessert. Try the cheesecake with blueberry compote. It's the best I've ever tasted.
Govinda
Sukhumvit soi 22
Vegetarian Italian
Recommendations: Don't let the fact that it's vegetarian scare you away. Everything on the menu is delicious. Highly recommend the lasagna.
Tacos and Salsa
between Sukhumvit sois 22 and 24
Mexican (So legit, the owner is from Mexico City)
Recommendations: Anything on the menu. The margaritas are especially delicious here.
Sunrise Tacos
Sukhumvit soi 12; Second location in Siam Paragon
Mexican
Recommendations: Black bean tacos, guacamole. Good desserts. A little cheaper than Tacos and Salsa, but also has less atmosphere.
Sultan's
Sukhumvit soi 3/1
Middle Eastern
Recommendations: Hummus (creamiest I've ever had), Naan bread, Chicken Tikka Masala, any of their curries, Mandi rice. Go with a group and order a couple of dishes to share.
Kuppa
Sukhumvit soi 16
International
Recommendations: The entrees my friends and I tried were just OK. Go there for dessert. Try the cheesecake with blueberry compote. It's the best I've ever tasted.
Govinda
Sukhumvit soi 22
Vegetarian Italian
Recommendations: Don't let the fact that it's vegetarian scare you away. Everything on the menu is delicious. Highly recommend the lasagna.
Tacos and Salsa
between Sukhumvit sois 22 and 24
Mexican (So legit, the owner is from Mexico City)
Recommendations: Anything on the menu. The margaritas are especially delicious here.
Sunrise Tacos
Sukhumvit soi 12; Second location in Siam Paragon
Mexican
Recommendations: Black bean tacos, guacamole. Good desserts. A little cheaper than Tacos and Salsa, but also has less atmosphere.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
a gift
On Saturday night I made my way to Hualamphong train station alone to begin my trip down south. My three friends had already flown to Surat Thani that afternoon. I decided to go the less comfortable -- but more affordable -- route, taking the overnight train followed by a midmorning boat to Ko Samui.
I was in the train station food court getting some pad thai, since the train didn't have real food. I was hot and tired from walking from the bus stop to the station with a heavy backpack.
I ordered my food and flopped down into a chair, observing my fellow diners while I waited. A guy was standing in line wearing a blue polo shirt, a navy coat with big, gold buttons, and a tiny pocketwatch hanging on a chain around his neck. He asked if he could sit with me.
I said OK and asked him if he worked at the train station -- the pocketwatch made me think he was a ticket taker or conductor or something. He said no. I complimented his necklace and we had a nice chat. I learned that he was an art student from Chiang Mai attending university in Bangkok. He was going home for the break between semesters.
As I ate my pad thai, I separated the nefarious bits of tofu from the rest of my food. He eyed it and asked if I didn't like tofu. I asked if he wanted it. He nodded, so I pushed the tofu pile onto his plate.
We finished our meals and as we walked toward the platform, he took off his watch necklace. "Here, I want you to have this," he said, as he dropped it in my hand. I tried to object, but he insisted. I put it on, and he told me it looked good.
His train was at the platform. He asked for my email address and we said goodbye. I sat down to wait for my train. He came over to me a few minutes later, handed me a bag of Bugles corn snacks, and boarded his train.
That's Thai hospitality for you. You know a person for less than an hour and they give you a memento and a snack.
I was in the train station food court getting some pad thai, since the train didn't have real food. I was hot and tired from walking from the bus stop to the station with a heavy backpack.
I ordered my food and flopped down into a chair, observing my fellow diners while I waited. A guy was standing in line wearing a blue polo shirt, a navy coat with big, gold buttons, and a tiny pocketwatch hanging on a chain around his neck. He asked if he could sit with me.
I said OK and asked him if he worked at the train station -- the pocketwatch made me think he was a ticket taker or conductor or something. He said no. I complimented his necklace and we had a nice chat. I learned that he was an art student from Chiang Mai attending university in Bangkok. He was going home for the break between semesters.
As I ate my pad thai, I separated the nefarious bits of tofu from the rest of my food. He eyed it and asked if I didn't like tofu. I asked if he wanted it. He nodded, so I pushed the tofu pile onto his plate.
We finished our meals and as we walked toward the platform, he took off his watch necklace. "Here, I want you to have this," he said, as he dropped it in my hand. I tried to object, but he insisted. I put it on, and he told me it looked good.
His train was at the platform. He asked for my email address and we said goodbye. I sat down to wait for my train. He came over to me a few minutes later, handed me a bag of Bugles corn snacks, and boarded his train.
That's Thai hospitality for you. You know a person for less than an hour and they give you a memento and a snack.
Friday, March 19, 2010
another half-baked idea
I've gotten used to sharing my living quarters with diverse flora and fauna over the last ten months -- ants, geckos, mold, cockroaches... I usually ignore them as best I can, but the thought of a roach scurrying around while I sleep gives me the creeps.
Killing them presents a problem for me; stepping on them is the most efficient method, but the crunching noise it makes is too horrible to bear. I decided last night I couldn't do it anymore. I needed a less hands-on means of destruction.
When I got home from Saxophone and turned on my bedroom light, I spotted one of the little fiends near my closet. One swift throw of my sneaker and the roach was on its back, frantically kicking its filthy little legs.
I grabbed a bottle of Off! from my vanity and crouched down to poison the sucker. Twenty-five sprays seemed sufficient. Eventually, he lay still in a shallow pool of mosquito repellent. I scooped him up with a piece of paper and flushed him.
I cleaned up the bug spray with Wet Wipes, turned off my lights, and got into bed, only to get right back up again when I realized I'd lose 50% of my brain cells overnight if I slept in those fumes.
I turned my fan on. It wasn't enough. I changed positions so my head would be as far from the spray as possible, but I could still smell it. I got up and found my surgical mask (a leftover from the swine flu scare). I put it on and laid back down, imagining how ridiculous I looked sleeping in a face mask. Finally, I opened the sliding door to my balcony and left the screen door shut.
So far today, brain activity seems normal.
Killing them presents a problem for me; stepping on them is the most efficient method, but the crunching noise it makes is too horrible to bear. I decided last night I couldn't do it anymore. I needed a less hands-on means of destruction.
When I got home from Saxophone and turned on my bedroom light, I spotted one of the little fiends near my closet. One swift throw of my sneaker and the roach was on its back, frantically kicking its filthy little legs.
I grabbed a bottle of Off! from my vanity and crouched down to poison the sucker. Twenty-five sprays seemed sufficient. Eventually, he lay still in a shallow pool of mosquito repellent. I scooped him up with a piece of paper and flushed him.
I cleaned up the bug spray with Wet Wipes, turned off my lights, and got into bed, only to get right back up again when I realized I'd lose 50% of my brain cells overnight if I slept in those fumes.
I turned my fan on. It wasn't enough. I changed positions so my head would be as far from the spray as possible, but I could still smell it. I got up and found my surgical mask (a leftover from the swine flu scare). I put it on and laid back down, imagining how ridiculous I looked sleeping in a face mask. Finally, I opened the sliding door to my balcony and left the screen door shut.
So far today, brain activity seems normal.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
red shirts, blood, and graduation
Our school was closed on Monday and Tuesday, thanks to the protests. It was really nice to have a few days to sleep, sit by the pool, eat, and relax.
Since last Friday, protesters have been streaming into the city via bus, truck, and motorbike. I got to watch some of it from the smoothie shop windows as the neverending parade headed toward Victory Monument. It was kind of like watching a high school pep rally. People were decked out in red clothes and accessories. They stood in truck beds and clapped, waved, shouted, sang, danced, and held their red flags high.
Yesterday, protest leaders organized a blood drive. In a bizarre attempt to make some kind of point, they poured the blood out at the four gates of Parliament. There are several videos about it on CNN's Web site.
They're supposed to be doing it again in front of other government buildings today. We were really hoping graduation would be canceled. I mean, would you come to work if a crowd down the road was dousing buildings in blood? But there hasn't been any violence, so I guess the show must go on. We're at school today for graduation rehearsals.
Thursday is Prathom's graduation and Friday is Mattayom's. Tomorrow, if he ends up attending, we'll curtsy before the Crown Prince of Thailand. Fancy-shmancy.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
politicking
I never thought I'd be so excited about political unrest. We have this Friday off for another round of Red Shirt protests.
As glad as I am to have a free day, I know it'll be hard to go anywhere, because traffic will be extra-horrible. I wanted to go to the Red Cross Queen Sirikit Snake Farm. You get to watch them milk the snakes' venom!
Speaking of politics, I finally got an idea of the kinds of little power struggles that go on in our department.
Ake came to me yesterday afternoon with nothing to do, wanting to improve his English. Specifically, he asked, "What are some words that Thai people say wrong?"
Sure, yeah, just hold on a sec while I pull out my handy list of every mispronunciation I've heard in the last 10 months.
I went to the bookshelf and pulled out a bedtime stories book from the '60s. He read aloud and I corrected him. After working a bit on pacing and intonation, he told me that some teachers were asking why he was teaching English here. He studied art, not English, in university, and has been teaching computer classes at the school.
"But Sukjai asked you to come teach English, right?"
"No, Ajarn Mina [the head of Prathom]."
"Right, so then, you're supposed to be teaching English. I don't understand."
Then he asked who the best English-speakers were in the department. We named off three teachers, all of whom are only part-time. He wanted to know who was the best of the full-time teachers. Alyssa, Mariela, and I thought for a minute, and then ventured that Sukjai was probably the most fluent.
He kept dancing around what he really wanted to say and went on to tell us he wasn't sure he should be teaching English. I assured him that yes, he definitely should be. Alyssa told him straight up, "Your English is better than Sukjai's, hands down."
He was vague about which teachers were gossiping about him -- we don't know if it's an English teacher or someone in another subject. He's only 27, so my theory is that one of the older teachers feels threatened by his English abilities and is trying to cut him down.
Maybe it's not a bad thing we don't know Thai. There's no telling how many times a week these petty battles are fought.
As glad as I am to have a free day, I know it'll be hard to go anywhere, because traffic will be extra-horrible. I wanted to go to the Red Cross Queen Sirikit Snake Farm. You get to watch them milk the snakes' venom!
Speaking of politics, I finally got an idea of the kinds of little power struggles that go on in our department.
Ake came to me yesterday afternoon with nothing to do, wanting to improve his English. Specifically, he asked, "What are some words that Thai people say wrong?"
Sure, yeah, just hold on a sec while I pull out my handy list of every mispronunciation I've heard in the last 10 months.
I went to the bookshelf and pulled out a bedtime stories book from the '60s. He read aloud and I corrected him. After working a bit on pacing and intonation, he told me that some teachers were asking why he was teaching English here. He studied art, not English, in university, and has been teaching computer classes at the school.
"But Sukjai asked you to come teach English, right?"
"No, Ajarn Mina [the head of Prathom]."
"Right, so then, you're supposed to be teaching English. I don't understand."
Then he asked who the best English-speakers were in the department. We named off three teachers, all of whom are only part-time. He wanted to know who was the best of the full-time teachers. Alyssa, Mariela, and I thought for a minute, and then ventured that Sukjai was probably the most fluent.
He kept dancing around what he really wanted to say and went on to tell us he wasn't sure he should be teaching English. I assured him that yes, he definitely should be. Alyssa told him straight up, "Your English is better than Sukjai's, hands down."
He was vague about which teachers were gossiping about him -- we don't know if it's an English teacher or someone in another subject. He's only 27, so my theory is that one of the older teachers feels threatened by his English abilities and is trying to cut him down.
Maybe it's not a bad thing we don't know Thai. There's no telling how many times a week these petty battles are fought.
Monday, March 8, 2010
pre-spousal carousal
We had a bachelorette party, Bangkok-style, for Mariela on Saturday. Our attempts at dressing like Thai teenage girls looked more like "Tacky Day" during a high school spirit week, with our mismatched accessories, graphic tees, ridiculous hair, and piled-on jewelry. And one mustn't forget the icing on the cake: miniature hats bought for us by Simone!
Throughout the night, Mariela had to complete various silly tasks, including, but not limited to:
- Taking a picture with a ladyboy
- Running around the taxi twice while stuck in traffic
- Buying a stick of fishballs and presenting them to a stranger, saying, "Would you like to try my balls?"
- Taking a picture driving a tuk-tuk
- Singing and dancing to "All the Single Ladies" in the middle of a busy street
We had dinner at Kuppa, a nice restaurant on Sukhumvit soi 16. Our food was OK, but the dessert was great. Simone's choice -- cheesecake with blueberry compote -- was the most delicious cheesecake I've ever tried, hands-down. Better than The Cheesecake Factory, and just a step above my friend Ryan's cheesecakes.
We headed to a salsa club and then on to Khao San Road (backpacker/dingy bar central) for dancing. Good times were had by all, even if we had sore throats the next day from all the smoke in the air.
We may have been lucky to survive that last cab ride. Erin likes to think the driver was just a happy soul, but the rest of us had a sneaking suspicion he was on something when he started giggling like mad at Mariela doing her Chinese fire drill.
Oh, well.
Throughout the night, Mariela had to complete various silly tasks, including, but not limited to:
- Taking a picture with a ladyboy
- Running around the taxi twice while stuck in traffic
- Buying a stick of fishballs and presenting them to a stranger, saying, "Would you like to try my balls?"
- Taking a picture driving a tuk-tuk
- Singing and dancing to "All the Single Ladies" in the middle of a busy street
We had dinner at Kuppa, a nice restaurant on Sukhumvit soi 16. Our food was OK, but the dessert was great. Simone's choice -- cheesecake with blueberry compote -- was the most delicious cheesecake I've ever tried, hands-down. Better than The Cheesecake Factory, and just a step above my friend Ryan's cheesecakes.
We headed to a salsa club and then on to Khao San Road (backpacker/dingy bar central) for dancing. Good times were had by all, even if we had sore throats the next day from all the smoke in the air.
We may have been lucky to survive that last cab ride. Erin likes to think the driver was just a happy soul, but the rest of us had a sneaking suspicion he was on something when he started giggling like mad at Mariela doing her Chinese fire drill.
Oh, well.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
I love WedMD
If I have symptoms -- any symptoms at all -- I like to use WebMD's Symptom Checker to figure out what horrible ill[nesse]s may have befalled me.
For one thing, clicking on the body parts and scrolling through every possible thing that could be wrong with each one is just fun. As a self-described hypochondriac, I naturally begin to imagine that, yes, yes, I do think that could possibly be a bald spot on my head.
But doctors hate self-diagnosers, right? I can imagine the sighs and rolled eyes when they see lists of diseases procured from the WebMD Syptom Checker.
Today's symptoms are dizziness and a slightly nauseated feeling. That's all. No headache. No fever. No vomiting. I don't want to go to the clinic on our grounds, or even a hospital, because doctors here do only two things: 1) neglect to listen to what you're telling them and 2) prescribe an antibiotic, along with three or four other medications.
WebMD suggests 20 possible conditions, including Meniere's disease, acute kidney failure, Botox injection, and esophagitis.
What should I do now?
For one thing, clicking on the body parts and scrolling through every possible thing that could be wrong with each one is just fun. As a self-described hypochondriac, I naturally begin to imagine that, yes, yes, I do think that could possibly be a bald spot on my head.
But doctors hate self-diagnosers, right? I can imagine the sighs and rolled eyes when they see lists of diseases procured from the WebMD Syptom Checker.
Today's symptoms are dizziness and a slightly nauseated feeling. That's all. No headache. No fever. No vomiting. I don't want to go to the clinic on our grounds, or even a hospital, because doctors here do only two things: 1) neglect to listen to what you're telling them and 2) prescribe an antibiotic, along with three or four other medications.
WebMD suggests 20 possible conditions, including Meniere's disease, acute kidney failure, Botox injection, and esophagitis.
What should I do now?
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
in trouble
We were met with quiet, almost-tangible hostility when we walked into the office yesterday. Sukjai didn't acknowledge our existence, but sulked into his breakfast of chicken and rice.
We sat down and exchanged nervous glances. When he left the room, we discussed a plan of action.
"Should we let him approach us?"
"No, in Thai culture, younger people always come to the elders. You can't make them seek you out."
"Okay, okay. So we have to approach him somehow."
"Not when La Bruja [a.k.a. P.Cham -- the third grade English teacher/office-politics puppet master] is in the room. We can't have him drawing strength from her."
"No, no. That wouldn't be good."
We caught him 15 minutes later as he was walking past our cluster of desks. Kristy -- a brave soul -- said, "Um, Sukjai? Do you have a second?"
We were immediately shot down. He waved his hand as if to say, "I don't even want to look at you right now" and told us he'd talk with us later.
I, for one, was relieved. At least the ball was in his court.
He waited until 3:40 to finally call us out of the office to have a chat. We sat down in a classroom and he said, "Well, what happened?"
Erin told him the same exact thing that I'd told him on the phone. He told us he felt so surprised on Tuesday when he came to work and none of us were there.
"Believe me, we were just as surprised when you called!" Erin said.
We assured him that we meant no disrespect and never would have missed work had we not truly, sincerely believed we had time off. We told him we'd stay an hour late next week to make it up, and he was placated.
Like everything else that goes on in our department, it was a needlessly dramatic buildup to an inconsequential outcome.
We sat down and exchanged nervous glances. When he left the room, we discussed a plan of action.
"Should we let him approach us?"
"No, in Thai culture, younger people always come to the elders. You can't make them seek you out."
"Okay, okay. So we have to approach him somehow."
"Not when La Bruja [a.k.a. P.Cham -- the third grade English teacher/office-politics puppet master] is in the room. We can't have him drawing strength from her."
"No, no. That wouldn't be good."
We caught him 15 minutes later as he was walking past our cluster of desks. Kristy -- a brave soul -- said, "Um, Sukjai? Do you have a second?"
We were immediately shot down. He waved his hand as if to say, "I don't even want to look at you right now" and told us he'd talk with us later.
I, for one, was relieved. At least the ball was in his court.
He waited until 3:40 to finally call us out of the office to have a chat. We sat down in a classroom and he said, "Well, what happened?"
Erin told him the same exact thing that I'd told him on the phone. He told us he felt so surprised on Tuesday when he came to work and none of us were there.
"Believe me, we were just as surprised when you called!" Erin said.
We assured him that we meant no disrespect and never would have missed work had we not truly, sincerely believed we had time off. We told him we'd stay an hour late next week to make it up, and he was placated.
Like everything else that goes on in our department, it was a needlessly dramatic buildup to an inconsequential outcome.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
koh chang
When we left Bangkok early Friday morning for Koh Chang, Erin and I thought we had six luxurious days to kill there. This morning over breakfast, my cell phone rang. It was Sukjai, wanting to know where I was.
The conversation went something like this:
Erin and I are on Koh Chang.
"Where? You're supposed to be in Bangkok."
I thought Lita asked for two extra days off last Thursday.
"She and Alyssa and Amy and Simone asked off, but you and Erin and Kristy didn't."
There must have been some kind of miscommunication [imagine that!], because we all thought when Mariela asked off, she was asking for all the foreign teachers.
The compromise Mariela had come to was that we'd get Tuesday and Wednesday off in exchange for staying two hours late every day next week. She kept all of us informed on the status of these negotiations.
We assumed Sukjai understood that we all wanted time off. Hello? Why would the rest of us be happy little worker bees when four of our number were off gallivanting around?
I guess I'd forgotten what happens when you assume. He sounded ticked. Said he needed to talk to the three of us when we got back. It pretty much ruined my morning... until I went on a four-hour snorkeling trip! I saw a baby octopus. It was fantastic.
The rest of the long weekend was great, too. I had a coconut-oil massage, ate nachos, and stayed in a bamboo hut. Seriously. Wood floors, bamboo walls, corrugated metal roof, mosquito nets hanging over the beds. We had the works.
Incidentally, I loved sleeping under the mosquito net. Spaces in the bamboo walls made it so our nets were dappled in silver-blue patches of light. It looked and felt like we were sleeping under Harry Potter's invisibility cloak.
I really liked Koh Chang. There weren't touts bugging you every five minutes like there are at Koh Samet. And the food was cheaper, and better. There were fewer people there, making it a very quiet, chill weekend. Overall, I give it two enthusiastic thumbs up.
I feel rejuvenated enough to face the coming wrath. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
on budget travel
I love planning trips. Especially on a ridiculously low budget. Because on my salary, I can't afford $300 round trip tickets to Malaysia.
That's right: Malaysia.
Yesterday, we found out that we have Friday off due to protests. But we've all gotten a case of the gimmes overnight, and we're going to ask for four additional days off in an attempt to squeeze in one more international trip.
I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much, but I'm positively brimming with excitement. Do a Google image search of "Perhentian Island" and "Cameron Highlands," and you'll see why.
I'm a fan of low-budget travel for a few reasons.
Apart from the fact that it's cheap, I like low-budget travel because it takes much more creativity and patience than flying in and hiring a cab to deliver you to every destination. I love the challenge of working within public transportation schedules and our own time and budget constraints. There's a feeling of exhilaration in the planning stages when different legs of a trip fit together seamlessly. Or there's the puzzle of finding alternative routes when they don't.
I also like budget traveling because you never know what's going to happen. You can do all the research you want, but once you're there, plans can change completely in a matter of minutes. You get lost. You can't speak the language. You find out that the next bus doesn't leave until 6 a.m. the next day, and you have the better part of a day to kill in a strange town.
It's difficult and inconvenient sometimes, but too exciting not to love.
Here's hoping and praying that our boss sees the light of reason!
That's right: Malaysia.
Yesterday, we found out that we have Friday off due to protests. But we've all gotten a case of the gimmes overnight, and we're going to ask for four additional days off in an attempt to squeeze in one more international trip.
I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much, but I'm positively brimming with excitement. Do a Google image search of "Perhentian Island" and "Cameron Highlands," and you'll see why.
I'm a fan of low-budget travel for a few reasons.
Apart from the fact that it's cheap, I like low-budget travel because it takes much more creativity and patience than flying in and hiring a cab to deliver you to every destination. I love the challenge of working within public transportation schedules and our own time and budget constraints. There's a feeling of exhilaration in the planning stages when different legs of a trip fit together seamlessly. Or there's the puzzle of finding alternative routes when they don't.
I also like budget traveling because you never know what's going to happen. You can do all the research you want, but once you're there, plans can change completely in a matter of minutes. You get lost. You can't speak the language. You find out that the next bus doesn't leave until 6 a.m. the next day, and you have the better part of a day to kill in a strange town.
It's difficult and inconvenient sometimes, but too exciting not to love.
Here's hoping and praying that our boss sees the light of reason!
Monday, February 22, 2010
peace and quiet
Monday was the last day of finals, and the last chance to see my students before the awards ceremony on March 18th. Today, the school grounds are blissfully quiet.
I finished grading the exams this morning. I had to re-grade one part because a concerned-looking Nummon informed me that most students failed the test. Failed it. (Side note: She returned one section of the test I'd written several weeks ago, with the message that Sukjai said it was too easy.) She said we had to find ways to give the kids more points.
I explained to her that teachers in the U.S. usually give a curve in these situations. I asked if we could do that, but she shook her head. "No. Not allowed here." So I had to give partial credit to sentences like these:
Did you seed a dog last yesterday?
Did he readed a book three day?
I hope no one seeded a dog last yesterday...
Anyway, my other task before graduation was to write unit evaluations for my grammar and speaking classes. I've just finished that, too. Now I've got three weeks to sit around the office and wish they'd give us time off.
My coworkers and I are crossing our fingers for this weekend's protests to be just disruptive enough to keep us from coming on Friday, but not so disruptive that they hinder our weekend trip to Khao Yai national park.
I finished grading the exams this morning. I had to re-grade one part because a concerned-looking Nummon informed me that most students failed the test. Failed it. (Side note: She returned one section of the test I'd written several weeks ago, with the message that Sukjai said it was too easy.) She said we had to find ways to give the kids more points.
I explained to her that teachers in the U.S. usually give a curve in these situations. I asked if we could do that, but she shook her head. "No. Not allowed here." So I had to give partial credit to sentences like these:
Did you seed a dog last yesterday?
Did he readed a book three day?
I hope no one seeded a dog last yesterday...
Anyway, my other task before graduation was to write unit evaluations for my grammar and speaking classes. I've just finished that, too. Now I've got three weeks to sit around the office and wish they'd give us time off.
My coworkers and I are crossing our fingers for this weekend's protests to be just disruptive enough to keep us from coming on Friday, but not so disruptive that they hinder our weekend trip to Khao Yai national park.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Hey, kids...
Saturday night was... eventful, to say the least. Mostly, Bangkok never ceases to surprise me.
I went out with five friends to check out a nearby bar featuring live folk music. It turned out to be Thai folk music. We stayed for about two and a half minutes.
We walked up the street and stopped at 7-11 so a few people could buy beers. We were standing around, discussing what to do next, when an older white man approached us.
He introduced himself as Dee Dee and said he noticed that we left pretty quick. He was there to offer us his sage advice on entertainment in the city. "I'm a professional," he said.
He asked if we were Khao San Road people. Khao San is the main backpacker strip here. I haven't been there yet, but it's supposed to be full of cheap, dirty bars. "No. Not so much," we told him. We explained that we weren't tourists.
He went on to tell us where to find the best gay sex show on Patpong (a notorious red light district). Then his Thai wife walked up.
We asked where they were going. "Back to our hotel. We just bought a big bag of ganja. You guys know; you're from California."
Erin looked at me and mouthed, "Could this get any weirder?"
"What happens if the police catch you with it?"
"Oh, come on, the police are the ones that sold it to me."
We learned that he'd lived in Bangkok for eight years with his wife before they moved to the U.S. He said something about owning a business that sold designer labels like True Religion, Seven for all Mankind, and a few others that were supposed to impress us.
Before leaving, he wished us luck and held out a downturned fist toward Ryan. Ryan obediently extended his hand, palm up, and received a fistful of pot.
"You kids have a good time."
Sensitive to the fact that we were standing right in the middle of a sidewalk in front of 7-11, Ryan quickly shoved his hand into his pocket. Dee Dee and his wife left, and we started wondering aloud whether the Thai people watching us down the street were authority figures of some kind.
We walked to Saxophone Pub for some blues music, where Ryan spent the rest of the night nervous and fidgety and wondering what would happen if he got caught with that stuff in his pocket.
Gotta love the neverending supply of old, sketchy white men that Bangkok is so ready and willing to host...
I went out with five friends to check out a nearby bar featuring live folk music. It turned out to be Thai folk music. We stayed for about two and a half minutes.
We walked up the street and stopped at 7-11 so a few people could buy beers. We were standing around, discussing what to do next, when an older white man approached us.
He introduced himself as Dee Dee and said he noticed that we left pretty quick. He was there to offer us his sage advice on entertainment in the city. "I'm a professional," he said.
He asked if we were Khao San Road people. Khao San is the main backpacker strip here. I haven't been there yet, but it's supposed to be full of cheap, dirty bars. "No. Not so much," we told him. We explained that we weren't tourists.
He went on to tell us where to find the best gay sex show on Patpong (a notorious red light district). Then his Thai wife walked up.
We asked where they were going. "Back to our hotel. We just bought a big bag of ganja. You guys know; you're from California."
Erin looked at me and mouthed, "Could this get any weirder?"
"What happens if the police catch you with it?"
"Oh, come on, the police are the ones that sold it to me."
We learned that he'd lived in Bangkok for eight years with his wife before they moved to the U.S. He said something about owning a business that sold designer labels like True Religion, Seven for all Mankind, and a few others that were supposed to impress us.
Before leaving, he wished us luck and held out a downturned fist toward Ryan. Ryan obediently extended his hand, palm up, and received a fistful of pot.
"You kids have a good time."
Sensitive to the fact that we were standing right in the middle of a sidewalk in front of 7-11, Ryan quickly shoved his hand into his pocket. Dee Dee and his wife left, and we started wondering aloud whether the Thai people watching us down the street were authority figures of some kind.
We walked to Saxophone Pub for some blues music, where Ryan spent the rest of the night nervous and fidgety and wondering what would happen if he got caught with that stuff in his pocket.
Gotta love the neverending supply of old, sketchy white men that Bangkok is so ready and willing to host...
Friday, February 19, 2010
ignorance is bliss?
Today was a review day, and the best way to get kids interested in that sort of thing is by enticing them with games and junky prizes.
Nummon drew four columns on the board with the headings "yesterday," "two days ago," "last week," and "a year ago." She stuck a picture to the chalkboard in each column.
My job was to ask questions like, "What did you eat yesterday?" The first student to raise his or her hand had to answer in past tense. If they did so correctly, they won a prize.
Round One was fairly standard. The kids enjoyed it, but the stakes weren't high enough. Nummon decided to spice it up during the second period by adding another round.
She told the students the first one to raise his or her hand could call on another student to answer -- a student who they thought wouldn't be able to answer correctly. If the poor sacrificial lamb got the sentence wrong, the kid who chose him could have a prize. Twisted, right?
They loved it. In third period, one kid -- Mangkorn -- was called on five or six times in a row. After the fourth shameful display of ignorance, he started hiding under his desk. He finally got one right, just before the bell rang to end class. Pobrecito.
Nummon drew four columns on the board with the headings "yesterday," "two days ago," "last week," and "a year ago." She stuck a picture to the chalkboard in each column.
My job was to ask questions like, "What did you eat yesterday?" The first student to raise his or her hand had to answer in past tense. If they did so correctly, they won a prize.
Round One was fairly standard. The kids enjoyed it, but the stakes weren't high enough. Nummon decided to spice it up during the second period by adding another round.
She told the students the first one to raise his or her hand could call on another student to answer -- a student who they thought wouldn't be able to answer correctly. If the poor sacrificial lamb got the sentence wrong, the kid who chose him could have a prize. Twisted, right?
They loved it. In third period, one kid -- Mangkorn -- was called on five or six times in a row. After the fourth shameful display of ignorance, he started hiding under his desk. He finally got one right, just before the bell rang to end class. Pobrecito.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
to bling, or not to bling
I've never seen a Thai woman wearing a wedding ring. It's not because they don't have them; they do, at least in Bangkok. But women here are afraid to wear their bling. According to Nummon, there are many thieves.
I left my nice jewelry at home for just that reason, but I haven't had any problems with pickpocketing or robbery. I've never felt it was a threat. Then again, maybe that's because I'm not waving several carats of precious stone around.
Nummon only wears her wedding ring at her house. To us, this seemed kind of backwards. Mariela said the point of wearing the ring is to let others know you're married. Why wear it at home?
One of the other Thai teachers, Sutima, took her jewelry with her on a trip to visit her family months ago. There, her wedding rings and some other pieces were stolen. Her cousin "found" a bracelet that had been with the rings, so Sutima was suspicious.
Her mother visited last week and brought the rings. She said they'd been found in the room Sutima stayed in on her visit -- a room she and her husband had turned upside down searching.
She said, "I never want to wear them again! I just want to put them in front of my Buddha and leave them there [for protection]."
Maybe I'm too practical, but if I were that paranoid about my jewelry, I would ask my husband not to buy it in the first place. How about a lifetime subscription to a gourmet-chocolate-of-the-month club instead? That's true love.
I left my nice jewelry at home for just that reason, but I haven't had any problems with pickpocketing or robbery. I've never felt it was a threat. Then again, maybe that's because I'm not waving several carats of precious stone around.
Nummon only wears her wedding ring at her house. To us, this seemed kind of backwards. Mariela said the point of wearing the ring is to let others know you're married. Why wear it at home?
One of the other Thai teachers, Sutima, took her jewelry with her on a trip to visit her family months ago. There, her wedding rings and some other pieces were stolen. Her cousin "found" a bracelet that had been with the rings, so Sutima was suspicious.
Her mother visited last week and brought the rings. She said they'd been found in the room Sutima stayed in on her visit -- a room she and her husband had turned upside down searching.
She said, "I never want to wear them again! I just want to put them in front of my Buddha and leave them there [for protection]."
Maybe I'm too practical, but if I were that paranoid about my jewelry, I would ask my husband not to buy it in the first place. How about a lifetime subscription to a gourmet-chocolate-of-the-month club instead? That's true love.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
eyelashes and other things
This is Bright, imitating my eyelashes. He likes them because they're different.
Most Thais' eyelashes are dark, short, and straight. Bright told me some of the girls he knows like to wear fake eyelashes, so they can have long, curly, luscious lashes like stars on TV.
At Nummon's wedding, I saw more than a few women who pulled out all the stops for the occasion, fancifying the windows of their souls with their exaggerated fakes. From the side, you could see the two sets -- the false fringe swooping out and up over a row of short, straight natural lashes. It was silly.
In other news: this morning, I saw my first-ever semi-confrontational moment between Thai people.
It was exciting, because Thais hate confrontation. They avoid it at all costs, because it involves a loss of face. Losing your cool is just not, well, cool.
On the way to school, one of the crazy, dangerous green minibuses came so close to our school van that it actually folded the side mirror in. Our driver got out to flip it out again when traffic stopped. He got back in. We pulled forward a few feet. Traffic stopped, and the crazy green bus was in front of us.
The driver got out and shut the door. We all held our breath and craned our necks to see the drama unfold. He marched up to the driver's window and told him off. But he didn't get nearly as worked up as a Westerner would have, and I don't think he really yelled. Still, it was exciting and weird to see. I guess you just had to be there.
Friday, February 5, 2010
dancing queen
I didn't spend a lot of time around drunk people in college, but I was delighted to learn last night that watching awkward, intoxicated white people try to dance is oh-so-amusing.
My coworkers and I went to The Australian -- a bar with nightly live music -- as an extension of Erin's birthday festivities.
There was a group of two guys and girls who'd had a lot to drink. By the end of the night, they were tearing up the dance floor, oblivious to the stares of the outside world.
The tallest girl wore brown hi-tops, black Bermuda shorts, and a green screen printed tank. Her style of dance can only be described as spastic. Her hips wagged back and forth. Her wavy, red hair grew frizzier and frizzier with each erratic toss of her head. Her elbows, which she whipped and flung about with wild abandon, threatened to blind anyone unlucky enough to interrupt her groove.
The lankiest guy bopped his head to the beat and tried to dip and step to the music. The funniest thing was his arms; he didn't quite know what to do with them. His hands sort of flapped around at the ends of his wrists.
The best thing about drunk people dancing is that they all think they look awesome. My friends and I sat and watched, the same way you stare at a car accident, and I couldn't help but wonder, "Do I look like that when I try to dance?!"
There was only one way to find out. Back at my apartment, I turned on some music and used the video setting on my camera to check out my technique.
Embarrassing to confess to the online world? Maybe. Judge me if you will, but I've got moves, y'all.
My coworkers and I went to The Australian -- a bar with nightly live music -- as an extension of Erin's birthday festivities.
There was a group of two guys and girls who'd had a lot to drink. By the end of the night, they were tearing up the dance floor, oblivious to the stares of the outside world.
The tallest girl wore brown hi-tops, black Bermuda shorts, and a green screen printed tank. Her style of dance can only be described as spastic. Her hips wagged back and forth. Her wavy, red hair grew frizzier and frizzier with each erratic toss of her head. Her elbows, which she whipped and flung about with wild abandon, threatened to blind anyone unlucky enough to interrupt her groove.
The lankiest guy bopped his head to the beat and tried to dip and step to the music. The funniest thing was his arms; he didn't quite know what to do with them. His hands sort of flapped around at the ends of his wrists.
The best thing about drunk people dancing is that they all think they look awesome. My friends and I sat and watched, the same way you stare at a car accident, and I couldn't help but wonder, "Do I look like that when I try to dance?!"
There was only one way to find out. Back at my apartment, I turned on some music and used the video setting on my camera to check out my technique.
Embarrassing to confess to the online world? Maybe. Judge me if you will, but I've got moves, y'all.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
quarantine
Classes were canceled yesterday, today, and tomorrow due to H1N1. And foot and mouth disease. Foot. And. Mouth. One of my P.4 students had it!
When I found out, I busted out the antibacterial foam and doused my desk, phone, writing utensils, and anything else that I may have possibly touched after touching something my students may have possibly touched.
We've had to come to work while the students wallow in their germs and play video games for three days.
On Wednesday, we purged the office of ancient stacks of papers, crusty notebooks, and general clutter. We even dusted! With the seven of us working, we finished up around 11:30 and spent the next five hours reading, asking trivia questions, and joking around.
There was a possibility, we were told on Tuesday, that we wouldn't have to come at all Thursday and Friday. The odds were against us, I guess. Yesterday at 4:00, the Thai teachers all gave us a cheery, "See you tomorrow."
To spite them, we decided to have a movie day in the computer lab on Thursday. We watched three hours of the TV show Glee, took a lunch break, and then watched another two and a half hours.
Tomorrow: same song, second verse.
When I found out, I busted out the antibacterial foam and doused my desk, phone, writing utensils, and anything else that I may have possibly touched after touching something my students may have possibly touched.
We've had to come to work while the students wallow in their germs and play video games for three days.
On Wednesday, we purged the office of ancient stacks of papers, crusty notebooks, and general clutter. We even dusted! With the seven of us working, we finished up around 11:30 and spent the next five hours reading, asking trivia questions, and joking around.
There was a possibility, we were told on Tuesday, that we wouldn't have to come at all Thursday and Friday. The odds were against us, I guess. Yesterday at 4:00, the Thai teachers all gave us a cheery, "See you tomorrow."
To spite them, we decided to have a movie day in the computer lab on Thursday. We watched three hours of the TV show Glee, took a lunch break, and then watched another two and a half hours.
Tomorrow: same song, second verse.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
dinosow (Thai for 'dinosaur')
I don't know why I continue to be amazed by the lack of communication here, but I am!
The school had planned a teacher trip to a dinosaur museum and archeological site in the northeast this weekend. We had to sign up for it a couple months ago, and the department head stressed to us that we had to be sure we could go before signing. If you wrote your name down, there was no turning back.
Most of us signed up. We figured 1) it was a free trip, and 2) what better things do we honestly have to do than take a 6-hour ride on a charter bus to a Thai dinosaur museum?
I was talking to Ekapol in the hallway yesterday afternoon about the weekend.
So, are you going on the trip?
"No!"
What? Why not?
"Because it was canceled."
Wait, what? When did they cancel it?
"I don't know."
When did you find out?
"Oh... a few weeks ago."
Oh. Well. I'm glad you told me. We had no idea. So why did they cancel it?
"I don't know."
I double-checked with Nummon later. She said it was, in fact, canceled. There are 14 confirmed cases of H1N1 and they didn't want us teachers being in close quarters for a weekend for fear of spreading it.
I still don't know if anyone was going to bother to inform us, or if they were going to let us show up on Friday with our weekend bags ready and safari suits in tow.
Ridiculous!
The school had planned a teacher trip to a dinosaur museum and archeological site in the northeast this weekend. We had to sign up for it a couple months ago, and the department head stressed to us that we had to be sure we could go before signing. If you wrote your name down, there was no turning back.
Most of us signed up. We figured 1) it was a free trip, and 2) what better things do we honestly have to do than take a 6-hour ride on a charter bus to a Thai dinosaur museum?
I was talking to Ekapol in the hallway yesterday afternoon about the weekend.
So, are you going on the trip?
"No!"
What? Why not?
"Because it was canceled."
Wait, what? When did they cancel it?
"I don't know."
When did you find out?
"Oh... a few weeks ago."
Oh. Well. I'm glad you told me. We had no idea. So why did they cancel it?
"I don't know."
I double-checked with Nummon later. She said it was, in fact, canceled. There are 14 confirmed cases of H1N1 and they didn't want us teachers being in close quarters for a weekend for fear of spreading it.
I still don't know if anyone was going to bother to inform us, or if they were going to let us show up on Friday with our weekend bags ready and safari suits in tow.
Ridiculous!
Friday, January 29, 2010
sports day
Her bright orange tutu flounced up and down as she ran across the finish line and claimed the victory in the race. Dejected, the other runners returned to the bleachers to shimmy and shout for their own teams in the coming heats. true story.
- Teacher Lita
Yesterday was Sports Day. It's actually been more like Sports Month, though. The Pink, Orange, Green, and Purple Teams have been competing in various events since the end of December for glory, fame, and plastic medals.
Thai cheerleading looks nothing like American cheerleading, we learned. It's more like Halloween crossed with a dance recital. Like American cheerleading, it has little or no effect on the athletes' performances or the crowd's enthusiasm.
I was supposed to run the 100-meter dash for the Pink team, but I got sacked immediately before my race. As in, a Thai teacher ran up to me and said, breathless, "They want me to run instead of you.
Can you do the rice sack race in my place?" To which, of course, the only correct answer is, "Yes! I would love to hop around in a giant rice bag!"The sack races were cancelled in the end, so it all worked to my advantage.
Overall, Sports Day was hot, sticky, and kinda miserable. We did get a half-day out of the deal, which gave us a chance to rest up for Christy's birthday celebration that night -- free BBQ at a restaurant on Sukhumvit. Bliss! The place does free food the last Friday of every month, and we were all wondering why we haven't been attending for the last seven months.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
"it puts a rose in every cheek"
We had a mini Australia Day celebration at my Wednesday small group when a couple of Aussie girls were nice enough to bring us some of their national cuisine.
Cuisine may be the wrong word when you're talking about a tube of Vegemite, but nevertheless...
I had heard the 1954 jingle for Vegemite years ago. My friend Alyssa played it for me on her parents' computer... I'm not sure why we were listening to it, actually. I remember little kids who sounded like they'd been sucking on helium, singing their love for the stuff.
Bernice made Vegemite grilled cheese sandwiches, but not before making me and Mariela try some Vegemite by itself. She squeezed the dark, tarlike paste onto our fingertips. We looked at it. We sniffed it. Gingerly, we tasted it.
She told us some people squeeze it straight into their mouths, the way some people in the U.S. do with Easy Cheese. (Coincidentally, both of these horrifying substances are made by Kraft. Hmm.)
Anyway, it tasted like a concentrated paste of salt, yeast, beer, and bread. But on a grilled cheese sandwich it was OK.
I also had Weet-Bix for the second time. It's a cereal bar with the look and consistency of plywood. It's a delight, however, when mixed with fruit and yogurt.
Cuisine may be the wrong word when you're talking about a tube of Vegemite, but nevertheless...
I had heard the 1954 jingle for Vegemite years ago. My friend Alyssa played it for me on her parents' computer... I'm not sure why we were listening to it, actually. I remember little kids who sounded like they'd been sucking on helium, singing their love for the stuff.
Bernice made Vegemite grilled cheese sandwiches, but not before making me and Mariela try some Vegemite by itself. She squeezed the dark, tarlike paste onto our fingertips. We looked at it. We sniffed it. Gingerly, we tasted it.
She told us some people squeeze it straight into their mouths, the way some people in the U.S. do with Easy Cheese. (Coincidentally, both of these horrifying substances are made by Kraft. Hmm.)
Anyway, it tasted like a concentrated paste of salt, yeast, beer, and bread. But on a grilled cheese sandwich it was OK.
I also had Weet-Bix for the second time. It's a cereal bar with the look and consistency of plywood. It's a delight, however, when mixed with fruit and yogurt.
a friend
It took eight months, but I finally made a Thai friend. His name is Bright (oh-so-fitting, as he's one of the most cheerful people I've ever met), and he owns the smoothie shop at the end of our street.
We discovered his shop shortly after arriving. I've been visiting it for months now, but it didn't occur to me to strike up a conversation with him until that fateful day a few weeks ago when I broke out my Lonely Planet Thai phrasebook. I turned to the Meeting People section and asked, "What do you like to do in your free time?"
"My friends and I shoot BB guns."
Oh, at targets?
"No. At each other!"
Well, huh. Isn't that something?
Our friendship has progressed a lot in the last two weeks. I've started teaching him some English and he's teaching me a little Thai.
I'm also one of the official taste testers for his sister's dessert-baking experiments. They're adding a bakery to their shop next month.
He taught me to say, "I'm full" the other night. That didn't stop me from stuffing my face with sticky rice and mango, a 20-ounce smoothie, and a thick slab of his sister's dark chocolate brownies drizzled with hot fudge and cashews.
Next lesson: "I can't; I'm on a diet."
We discovered his shop shortly after arriving. I've been visiting it for months now, but it didn't occur to me to strike up a conversation with him until that fateful day a few weeks ago when I broke out my Lonely Planet Thai phrasebook. I turned to the Meeting People section and asked, "What do you like to do in your free time?"
"My friends and I shoot BB guns."
Oh, at targets?
"No. At each other!"
Well, huh. Isn't that something?
Our friendship has progressed a lot in the last two weeks. I've started teaching him some English and he's teaching me a little Thai.
I'm also one of the official taste testers for his sister's dessert-baking experiments. They're adding a bakery to their shop next month.
He taught me to say, "I'm full" the other night. That didn't stop me from stuffing my face with sticky rice and mango, a 20-ounce smoothie, and a thick slab of his sister's dark chocolate brownies drizzled with hot fudge and cashews.
Next lesson: "I can't; I'm on a diet."
Sunday, January 24, 2010
the finished product
Yeah. I know what you're thinking.
"Man, I would totally hire this young woman and give her health insurance and vacation time!"
Saturday, January 23, 2010
a gift
My friends and I were standing near a fruit stand waiting to get a cab tonight when a young guy walked up to buy some papaya. The vendor sliced it up and put it in a plastic bag.
The guy asked for some extra wooden skewers and gave each of us a piece of the fruit, indicating that we were too thin and should eat more. And that was the end of it.
When we got in the cab, both Alyssa and I noted our appreciation of how a guy managed to give four young women papaya in a non-hitting-on-us kind of way.
Way to not be creepy, papaya guy. We affirm you!
The guy asked for some extra wooden skewers and gave each of us a piece of the fruit, indicating that we were too thin and should eat more. And that was the end of it.
When we got in the cab, both Alyssa and I noted our appreciation of how a guy managed to give four young women papaya in a non-hitting-on-us kind of way.
Way to not be creepy, papaya guy. We affirm you!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
expelliarmus!
There's a kid in my second period class named Petan who's fluent in English. A few weeks ago, he was reading the Harry Potter series before class. I watched his wee heart sink as he read the ending of book six.
Petan was absent for the speaking quiz last week over "there was/were" and "could/couldn't." I almost gave him a 10 anyway, because the quizzes are mindnumbingly easy for him.
I reconsidered, deciding to have some fun instead.
Today I called him to my desk to make up the quiz.
Number one: Name three magical creatures Hagrid takes care of.
He put his hand on his head and started pacing.
"Buckbeak... Wait, really?"
Yes! Three creatures. Go.
"Buckbeak... Fluffy... and... I can't remember."
That's OK. Question two: make a sentence using "there was" or "there were" and quaffles.
"There were waffles at breakfast this morning."
Quaffles?! At breakfast?
"OH! There were two quaffles in the Quidditch match."
That's better. Four dragons.
"There were four dragons at the Triwizard Cup last month."
OK. Now, could and couldn't. Could you be a seeker if you played Quidditch?
"Yes, I could."
Could you do magic when you were three years old?
"No, I couldn't."
I think he got a kick out of it. I sure did.
Petan was absent for the speaking quiz last week over "there was/were" and "could/couldn't." I almost gave him a 10 anyway, because the quizzes are mindnumbingly easy for him.
I reconsidered, deciding to have some fun instead.
Today I called him to my desk to make up the quiz.
Number one: Name three magical creatures Hagrid takes care of.
He put his hand on his head and started pacing.
"Buckbeak... Wait, really?"
Yes! Three creatures. Go.
"Buckbeak... Fluffy... and... I can't remember."
That's OK. Question two: make a sentence using "there was" or "there were" and quaffles.
"There were waffles at breakfast this morning."
Quaffles?! At breakfast?
"OH! There were two quaffles in the Quidditch match."
That's better. Four dragons.
"There were four dragons at the Triwizard Cup last month."
OK. Now, could and couldn't. Could you be a seeker if you played Quidditch?
"Yes, I could."
Could you do magic when you were three years old?
"No, I couldn't."
I think he got a kick out of it. I sure did.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
shocking!
I'm already bracing myself for the severe reverse culture shock I expect to experience when I go home to my tiny, northeast Texas hometown in a couple of months. I actually get a sort of panicked feeling in my chest when I think about it.
In a nutshell, and at the risk of sounding like a cosmopolitan snob, I'm worried that Greenville won't be nearly stimulating enough. You can find anything and everything you want here in Bangkok.
Amazing international cuisine? Check.
Movies, bowling alleys, and bookshops? Check.
Coffee shops, symphony concerts, public parks, cultural events, festivals, sky bars, ice skating rinks, amusement parks, shopping, historical sites, easy access to beaches, bars with nightly live music...
And I mustn't leave out the incessant confusion, the thrill of being able to read a Thai word written in the few characters I know, the stares, and the adventures in navigating various modes of transportation including, but not limited to, the skytrain, taxis, public buses, tuk-tuks, and canal boats.
Will someone please remind me why I'm leaving?
In the meantime, I'm trying to drum up a bout of homesickness with -- what else? -- a country music binge.
In a nutshell, and at the risk of sounding like a cosmopolitan snob, I'm worried that Greenville won't be nearly stimulating enough. You can find anything and everything you want here in Bangkok.
Amazing international cuisine? Check.
Movies, bowling alleys, and bookshops? Check.
Coffee shops, symphony concerts, public parks, cultural events, festivals, sky bars, ice skating rinks, amusement parks, shopping, historical sites, easy access to beaches, bars with nightly live music...
And I mustn't leave out the incessant confusion, the thrill of being able to read a Thai word written in the few characters I know, the stares, and the adventures in navigating various modes of transportation including, but not limited to, the skytrain, taxis, public buses, tuk-tuks, and canal boats.
Will someone please remind me why I'm leaving?
In the meantime, I'm trying to drum up a bout of homesickness with -- what else? -- a country music binge.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
crime and punishment
I finished giving the speaking quizzes a few minutes early in my second period, and had nothing to do but mill about and watch Nummon teach.
Suddenly, she stopped and walked over to one of the boys. Standing over his desk, she reached for his backpack and proceeded to calmly shake its contents out all over the floor.
I watched, mouth agape.
Even more surprising -- the student didn't bat an eye. No tears. No pouting. His books, papers, and pencils lay in a heap on the floor for the rest of the period.
She came up to me after class and told me the student never turns in his homework or brings his books to class. She decided to "look for his homework."
Suddenly, she stopped and walked over to one of the boys. Standing over his desk, she reached for his backpack and proceeded to calmly shake its contents out all over the floor.
I watched, mouth agape.
Even more surprising -- the student didn't bat an eye. No tears. No pouting. His books, papers, and pencils lay in a heap on the floor for the rest of the period.
She came up to me after class and told me the student never turns in his homework or brings his books to class. She decided to "look for his homework."
Thursday, January 14, 2010
supervisor meeting
Nummon called a meeting this morning with me and Pear, the student teacher. She had lots of questions for me that probably should have been asked months ago, such as:
Which students are misbehaving or giving you trouble in class?
Which students are helpful in class?
and
How are they doing on their worksheets?
She asked how I normally operate the class. I told her I explain the lesson, give them a few examples, let them do the worksheets on their own, and circulate through the room to help. I told her I grade their work as they finish so they can see what they did wrong.
What do the students do while they wait for you to grade?
"Oh, they wait in line, naturally." (Lies! They run all over the place like the little miscreants they are.)
She told us the students have had trouble with the writing sections on the tests. Specifically, writing paragraphs.
I'm not positive, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that we never have them practice writing paragraphs in class. I told her as much.
She said the students should be able to apply everything they've heard and learned, putting it together in the form of a paragraph. She doesn't want students to write paragraphs in class because "if the test is exactly the same as what they do in class, they don't learn anything." She said they'd memorize the paragraph and copy it. Never mind that whole notion of changing the writing prompt...
The next item of business was equally baffling:
How many words do the students know?
"How many words do the students know?!"
Yeah. What you think? 100? 1,000?
I couldn't say how many words I know in Spanish, much less give an estimate for another person's knowledge of their foreign language.
"Um... I'm not really sure. I mean, they should know quite a lot of words," I stammered. "They know foods, jobs, clothes, verbs, sports..."
She wanted us to devise ways to test the students' vocabularies.
I suggested we give them all a sheet of paper and say, "OK; you have five minutes. Write all the foods you know. Next, you have five minutes to write all the verbs you know..." and so forth.
That method was far too rational. We have to quiz the class (individually?) using flashcards and make a worksheet asking them to translate a bunch of Thai words into their English equivalents.
I'm glad I could give my input. Meeting adjourned.
Which students are misbehaving or giving you trouble in class?
Which students are helpful in class?
and
How are they doing on their worksheets?
She asked how I normally operate the class. I told her I explain the lesson, give them a few examples, let them do the worksheets on their own, and circulate through the room to help. I told her I grade their work as they finish so they can see what they did wrong.
What do the students do while they wait for you to grade?
"Oh, they wait in line, naturally." (Lies! They run all over the place like the little miscreants they are.)
She told us the students have had trouble with the writing sections on the tests. Specifically, writing paragraphs.
I'm not positive, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that we never have them practice writing paragraphs in class. I told her as much.
She said the students should be able to apply everything they've heard and learned, putting it together in the form of a paragraph. She doesn't want students to write paragraphs in class because "if the test is exactly the same as what they do in class, they don't learn anything." She said they'd memorize the paragraph and copy it. Never mind that whole notion of changing the writing prompt...
The next item of business was equally baffling:
How many words do the students know?
"How many words do the students know?!"
Yeah. What you think? 100? 1,000?
I couldn't say how many words I know in Spanish, much less give an estimate for another person's knowledge of their foreign language.
"Um... I'm not really sure. I mean, they should know quite a lot of words," I stammered. "They know foods, jobs, clothes, verbs, sports..."
She wanted us to devise ways to test the students' vocabularies.
I suggested we give them all a sheet of paper and say, "OK; you have five minutes. Write all the foods you know. Next, you have five minutes to write all the verbs you know..." and so forth.
That method was far too rational. We have to quiz the class (individually?) using flashcards and make a worksheet asking them to translate a bunch of Thai words into their English equivalents.
I'm glad I could give my input. Meeting adjourned.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Wednesdays are monk days at school. I don't like monk days.
Monk day means a monk takes the air-conditioned classroom (the dancing room) I normally use on small group days. I, in turn, have to teach in the sixth grade non-aircon classrooms with chalkboards for the first and second periods.
The dancing room is free during third period while the monks eat lunch. But more often than not, the desks and chairs aren't set up. When the monk teaches there, the kids sit on the floor.
Dragging 20 clunky desks and chairs in from the balcony is an annoying and unneccessary waste of class time. I didn't want to deal with the hassle today. I asked Nummon if it would be OK to stay in the non-aircon classrooms for all three periods.
We crossed wires somewhere, because Sukjai came to my third period class, visibly annoyed, and asked where I normally teach. I explained the desk problem and he told me the sixth grade needed the classroom I was in. I'm not sure why he waited until I was 10 minutes into the lesson to boot me out, but I guess that's beside the point.
I apologized and told the kids to stand up, grab their books, and go to the dancing room.
I followed my students downstairs and Sukjai appeared again to tell me we could use the meeting room. He waited until half the class had run to the other building to tell me this, naturally.
I shook my head and walked into the meeting room. There were no desks set up there, either, so I told him the kids could sit on the floor. I just wanted to get on with the lesson.
He asked how many students I had. I told him I didn't know (Another golden opportunity to display my incompetence. Goodie!). He recruited some kids to help him haul plastic desks and chairs in from next door. Again, an unneccessary drain on time.
One of the desks was full of water (?!), which sloshed all over the floor as a kid struggled to set it upright. All I wanted was to finish going through the can/could worksheet, but I stood there, helpless, as students trickled in and Sukjai went to find the mop.
Monk day means a monk takes the air-conditioned classroom (the dancing room) I normally use on small group days. I, in turn, have to teach in the sixth grade non-aircon classrooms with chalkboards for the first and second periods.
The dancing room is free during third period while the monks eat lunch. But more often than not, the desks and chairs aren't set up. When the monk teaches there, the kids sit on the floor.
Dragging 20 clunky desks and chairs in from the balcony is an annoying and unneccessary waste of class time. I didn't want to deal with the hassle today. I asked Nummon if it would be OK to stay in the non-aircon classrooms for all three periods.
We crossed wires somewhere, because Sukjai came to my third period class, visibly annoyed, and asked where I normally teach. I explained the desk problem and he told me the sixth grade needed the classroom I was in. I'm not sure why he waited until I was 10 minutes into the lesson to boot me out, but I guess that's beside the point.
I apologized and told the kids to stand up, grab their books, and go to the dancing room.
I followed my students downstairs and Sukjai appeared again to tell me we could use the meeting room. He waited until half the class had run to the other building to tell me this, naturally.
I shook my head and walked into the meeting room. There were no desks set up there, either, so I told him the kids could sit on the floor. I just wanted to get on with the lesson.
He asked how many students I had. I told him I didn't know (Another golden opportunity to display my incompetence. Goodie!). He recruited some kids to help him haul plastic desks and chairs in from next door. Again, an unneccessary drain on time.
One of the desks was full of water (?!), which sloshed all over the floor as a kid struggled to set it upright. All I wanted was to finish going through the can/could worksheet, but I stood there, helpless, as students trickled in and Sukjai went to find the mop.
Monday, January 11, 2010
thanks, but no thanks.
I mean, I guess monks are regular people, just like everybody else. Some are with it, some aren't.
- Amy
- Amy
Approaching my favorite smoothie place last night, I saw my coworker, Amy, sitting on a stool out front, chatting with a monk.
I sat down and caught snippets of their conversation. From what I could tell, the monk was trying to invite Amy to go to Las Vegas with him next week.
It was weird on a few levels. 1: Monks generally pay us little or no attention. They aren't allowed to touch or be touched by women. They can't even accept something from a woman's hand. 2: What the heck is a Thai monk going to do in Vegas?
I made a face at her and hummed the Twilight Zone theme song. Then the monk asked me to go to Vegas.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
life is like a stick of fish balls...
I don't know when it happened. Perhaps it was all in a moment. Perhaps it was a gradual desensitization. I realized yesterday that the absurd has become so commonplace in my life, I often forget to write about it here. I see it, I process it, and I carry on, unfazed.
Today, I let Bangkok happen to me anew, experiencing it with the help of an Australian friend I met on New Year's Eve.
On our way to meet Mariela for a symphony concert in Lumphini Park, we were approached by a Thai jogger who struck up a conversation with the usual, "Where you come from?"
Hearing I was American, he decided to show off his knowledge of U.S. geography by naming every state and city he could.
Ohhhh... Chicago, Illinois, Utah, Vermont, Minnesota.
Wow, you've seen a lot more of the U.S. than I have...
New Jersey, Connecticut, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas.
Hey, I'm from Texas.
Houston, Dallas, Austin... Nevada, California, San Francisco.
My radar was already set to Ignore, but my friend was amused. After naming the 48 contiguous states, the man started on Melbourne, Canberra, Sydney, and... I don't know what else. I stopped listening.
Things like this happen to me all the time. My coworker Amy calls it "The Twilight Zone," which is all too fitting at times.
I forget that tourists don't see this side of Bangkok -- probably because they zip from one place to the next in taxis. They miss out on the abundance of crazy moments to be had by being out there, sweaty and walking with everyone else.
Another quintessential Thailand incident I forgot to mention last week: On Friday at work, Mariela and I found ourselves sitting in a copy room singing "Puff, the Magic Dragon" while the mailman accompanied us on his acoustic guitar. Our next song was "Amazing Grace." He liked my harmonies.
Yes, this is my life.
Today, I let Bangkok happen to me anew, experiencing it with the help of an Australian friend I met on New Year's Eve.
On our way to meet Mariela for a symphony concert in Lumphini Park, we were approached by a Thai jogger who struck up a conversation with the usual, "Where you come from?"
Hearing I was American, he decided to show off his knowledge of U.S. geography by naming every state and city he could.
Ohhhh... Chicago, Illinois, Utah, Vermont, Minnesota.
Wow, you've seen a lot more of the U.S. than I have...
New Jersey, Connecticut, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas.
Hey, I'm from Texas.
Houston, Dallas, Austin... Nevada, California, San Francisco.
My radar was already set to Ignore, but my friend was amused. After naming the 48 contiguous states, the man started on Melbourne, Canberra, Sydney, and... I don't know what else. I stopped listening.
Things like this happen to me all the time. My coworker Amy calls it "The Twilight Zone," which is all too fitting at times.
I forget that tourists don't see this side of Bangkok -- probably because they zip from one place to the next in taxis. They miss out on the abundance of crazy moments to be had by being out there, sweaty and walking with everyone else.
Another quintessential Thailand incident I forgot to mention last week: On Friday at work, Mariela and I found ourselves sitting in a copy room singing "Puff, the Magic Dragon" while the mailman accompanied us on his acoustic guitar. Our next song was "Amazing Grace." He liked my harmonies.
Yes, this is my life.
Friday, January 8, 2010
fitted out
I've begun my second foray into the tailoring world.
The first -- the little black dress attempt -- was only about halfway successful. I did end up with a dress, but A) it cost way too much and B) there is an all-too-noticeable rumple in the lining near the neck. They didn't fix it after asking them two or three times. I gave up.
I found a different tailor shop on the recommendation of a young Thai teacher. I played it safe and ordered a simple button-down shirt. It was inexpensive, turned out pretty well, and the fabric feels great, so I went back to be measured for a suit.
That's right: my first, grown-up business suit. (Or monkey suit, as my brother used to call them when he was a wee small child forced to wear them to church for special occasions. E.g. "Get me outta this monkey suit, Mom!")
I am 23 years old now, after all. It's time to look like an adult. Plus, in the event that I snag a job interview or two when I go home, I want to be properly attired.
I'll post pictures when it's finished.
On an unrelated note, I apologize for the curse word in my last post. I was all riled up about corruption and whatnot. Didn't mean to offend.
The first -- the little black dress attempt -- was only about halfway successful. I did end up with a dress, but A) it cost way too much and B) there is an all-too-noticeable rumple in the lining near the neck. They didn't fix it after asking them two or three times. I gave up.
I found a different tailor shop on the recommendation of a young Thai teacher. I played it safe and ordered a simple button-down shirt. It was inexpensive, turned out pretty well, and the fabric feels great, so I went back to be measured for a suit.
That's right: my first, grown-up business suit. (Or monkey suit, as my brother used to call them when he was a wee small child forced to wear them to church for special occasions. E.g. "Get me outta this monkey suit, Mom!")
I am 23 years old now, after all. It's time to look like an adult. Plus, in the event that I snag a job interview or two when I go home, I want to be properly attired.
I'll post pictures when it's finished.
On an unrelated note, I apologize for the curse word in my last post. I was all riled up about corruption and whatnot. Didn't mean to offend.
Monday, January 4, 2010
if you want a thing done right, you've gotta strongarm someone else into doing it for you
I was greeted at work today by a completely unexpected, completely inappropriate request.
From what I understand (and it's still kind of fuzzy, due to the language barrier), Nummon wanted me to write a paper for the niece of the head of Prathom. This girl is an English major.
Nummon handed me a packet of papers the girl had put together. There was an outline on the first page.
The paper was on intermarriage between Buddhists and Hindus, Buddhists and Muslims, and Catholics and Protestants. Her plan was to include "case studies" for each religious combo.
I leafed through her notes and found that by "case studies," she meant postings from random people on online discussion boards - complete with copied and pasted excerpts of poorly written rants from people struggling with their own mixed-faith marriages.
WTF?
She also had notes on religious beliefs. Among the things Catholicism and Protestantism share are the ideas "That wicked people go to hell" and "That good people go to heaven."
She didn't have one scholarly source. Not a book or a single journal article. I couldn't believe it.
I asked Nummon what kind of work this girl was actually doing herself, since the paper had been delegated to Nummon and, subsequently, to me. She made an excuse about how the girl is still young and sometimes young students need help. It was due tomorrow.
I have this crazy notion that language learners need to do their own damn homework if they want to achieve any level of proficiency.
I attempted to correct some doctrinal errors (e.g. Catholics do not worship Mary) and gave the girl some feedback, telling her to go to the library (I even suggested some books to look up!) and to talk to sociology professors for more resources on interfaith marriages. I left everything else alone and decided to let Nummon deal with the mess her boss had forced upon her.
I also told her I'd be happy to edit a written paper any time.
The educational system here is ridiculous if this is not an isolated case. Especially at the university level! I'm disgusted. Truly.
From what I understand (and it's still kind of fuzzy, due to the language barrier), Nummon wanted me to write a paper for the niece of the head of Prathom. This girl is an English major.
Nummon handed me a packet of papers the girl had put together. There was an outline on the first page.
The paper was on intermarriage between Buddhists and Hindus, Buddhists and Muslims, and Catholics and Protestants. Her plan was to include "case studies" for each religious combo.
I leafed through her notes and found that by "case studies," she meant postings from random people on online discussion boards - complete with copied and pasted excerpts of poorly written rants from people struggling with their own mixed-faith marriages.
WTF?
She also had notes on religious beliefs. Among the things Catholicism and Protestantism share are the ideas "That wicked people go to hell" and "That good people go to heaven."
She didn't have one scholarly source. Not a book or a single journal article. I couldn't believe it.
I asked Nummon what kind of work this girl was actually doing herself, since the paper had been delegated to Nummon and, subsequently, to me. She made an excuse about how the girl is still young and sometimes young students need help. It was due tomorrow.
I have this crazy notion that language learners need to do their own damn homework if they want to achieve any level of proficiency.
I attempted to correct some doctrinal errors (e.g. Catholics do not worship Mary) and gave the girl some feedback, telling her to go to the library (I even suggested some books to look up!) and to talk to sociology professors for more resources on interfaith marriages. I left everything else alone and decided to let Nummon deal with the mess her boss had forced upon her.
I also told her I'd be happy to edit a written paper any time.
The educational system here is ridiculous if this is not an isolated case. Especially at the university level! I'm disgusted. Truly.
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