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!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
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!
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