dirt and worms

English Camp approaches swiftly, and I think all the American Prathom teachers are dreading it. Mariela and Simone have both had nightmares about it - no lie.

Our theme is English Camp-Out, and I'm in charge of the snack station.

I decided Dirt and Worms would be a great idea - it's a typical summer snack that American kids love, and it'll sure beat the heck out of the neon-colored, flavorless gelatinous noodles floating in coconut milk that so often make up the school cafeteria's dessert.

I soon learned that grocery stores here don't stock the just-add-cold-milk-and-refrigerate instant chocolate pudding. Where's Bill Cosby when I need him most?

Undeterred, I sought a homemade pudding recipe. I found a relatively simple one that had been tested by some girl who wrote a blog post about it. Good enough, right? Never mind that I've never made pudding from scratch before in my life.

Several times since the first English Camp brainstorming session in July, I've thought to myself, "Self, what the hell were you thinking when you agreed to make homemade chocolate pudding for 120 kids?!"

I still haven't come up with a good answer for that question.

ko samet

Four of us girls went to Ko Samet this weekend for a little much-needed R&R.

During our evening swim last night, we talked about how strange this year away is. We don't know what to call it or how it fits in the narrative of our lives. I may come back to this thought for some kind of coherent discourse in a future post. We'll see.

We sunned, read, ate delicious food, and drank fresh, creamy fruit smoothies (mango-pineapple-banana is an excellent combination) on a deck overlooking the beach.

It rained all morning today, but we had a leisurely breakfast and played cards and dominoes on a covered deck. We headed home around 1:15.

Alyssa and I had an appointment with the tailor this evening. I was supposed to get my finished black dress, but we were stood up. It was OK. We got ice cream instead, and I got to read all evening, which was a fine consolation.

waving the white flag

The "In case of fraud or deception, call the MBK hotline at this number..." signs posted on the fourth floor of the mall should have been my first hint.

I returned to MBK today planning to return my (probably) fake SanDisk flash drive and get my money back. I had every intention of being diplomatic, but negotiations broke down pretty quickly.

My first approach was the, "Oh, I took it home and then realized it was the wrong thing." The girl wasn't buying it, so I quickly moved on to the, "I changed my mind and I just don't like this one" excuse. No luck there, either.

I came out and said it: "I looked this flash drive up on SanDisk's Web site. I know this one is a fake, and I want to return it."

"No, no, not possible. No refunds or exchanges. But if you want to trade it for a Kingston..."

"No, I don't want to trade, I want my money back."

"I guarantee this is one million percent real SanDisk."

"That's not a percentage, and no, it isn't."

This went on for some time. I threatened to call the fraud hotline. She dared me to.

Some Spaniards came up wanting to buy camera batteries. She ignored me and moved over to help them. Irritated by her lack of couth, I figured I'd cost her some business.

I got the travelers' attention. "No deben comprar nada aqui... Son deshonestos." They looked at me, looked at her, put down the battery, and said, "Muchas Gracias."

"De nada."

They left. The lady turned back to me, furious. I certainly hadn't done myself any favors.

I walked toward the big, fat man at the back of the store. I asked him to please help me. I begged, I pleaded, I told him I was a teacher with no money. I said he could give me only 500, so that he'd still be making money and he could sell the drive to someone else. He refused to see reason.

A younger man - maybe his son? - came up to talk to me. I explained myself and got the same responses from him. I went back to the front to pester lady number one again.

She was still fuming. "Why you come and buy and then try to return? Why you tell my customers to go away so they don buy??"

A scary, older woman in gaudy jewelry, long fingernails, and a floral print shirt walked up. They started talking in Thai. They said they were going to get the mall police.

A girl sitting at the front suggested that I leave. She was shopping there and she spoke good English. I asked her if she could explain to the saleslady. She didn't want to get involved, and said the women might hit me.

"Hit me? Like, punch me? Are you serious??"

She was serious. So I kept my distance. Gaudy-jewelry lady pointed her finger in my face, and held it there, telling me to get out.

I kept telling them I'd leave and never bother them again if they'd just refund my money. They'd have none of it.

I was there for a good 40 minutes when I decided to find a mall help desk. I found two blue-suited ladies on the second floor, explained my plight, filed an official complaint, and walked back upstairs with them to show them the shop.

They walked inside to speak with the owner. I stayed just outside, trying to make myself scarce. They waved me in and the older lady gave me the most poisonous look I've ever seen.

In the end, the owner gave his guarantee of the drive's authenticity (which means... nothing). I was too exhausted to argue, and I was late for my dinner plans.

They win, this time. And I learned not to buy electronics from little shops in MBK.

ugh

Why is everything difficult?

I went to MBK to buy an 8GB flash drive today. I wandered around that awful, awful fourth floor between dozens and dozens of little electronics kiosks for 40+ minutes, trying my best not to get ripped off.

I found what looked to be a decent store with legitimate merchandise. I bought a SanDisk flash drive for 600 baht. The packaging looked normal and there were no misspellings or obvious giveaways, but I went home feeling a bit skeptical.

I got on SanDisk's Web site and looked up the drive I had bought. The last three digits of the product code did not match up with their Web site's information. I emailed tech support to see if there's a mistake, so we'll see.

I asked the woman at the store for a receipt, thank goodness, and I wrote down which store it was. I just really, really don't want to go back and have to finagle my money out of her... What a pain.

Dear Southeast Asia,

Could you please try not to rip me off at least once in the next seven months? Thanks.

Love,
Lauren

bulletin board #2: august

For August's unit, we learned about possessive adjectives and possessive pronouns. I've figured out that you have to simplify the board design if you don't want to spend 12+ hours making everything.

The purse and the book the girl is holding are 3-D!

clash of civilizations

Lessons of the day:

1. Lotus flowers are only for monks, Buddhas, or people you've seriously offended. They are not a good present for the school principal.

Alyssa and I wanted to give the principal some flowers as a thank-you for the lovely weekend at her home in Kanchanaburi. Alyssa chose some flowers she thought were pretty and came to school with them the next day.

One Thai teacher told us lotuses were for monks, etc., but she said the principal wouldn't mind since we obviously didn't know. And, the principal has lived in the U.S. before, so she knows different flowers don't have ceremonial significance there.

Later in the morning, though, Sukjai and another teacher tell us (repeatedly and emphatically) that the flowers are not suitable, but that we could buy different ones at a flower shop across from the school.

2. If you wish to give the Queen of Thailand a birthday gift, your birthday card's message is subject to inspection by the head of the English Department.

Kristy's mom brought a gift for the Queen's birthday when she came in June - a crystal dish or something (Now, what the Queen of Thailand is going to do with a crystal serving dish, I'm not sure. But that's beside the point). Kristy was told that she could give it to the school principal, and the principal would get it to the Queen.

She asked Sukjai how to address the Queen and what her card should say. Then she wrote it and sealed it.

Today, she was accosted by Sukjai and Picham, who wanted to read the card. She gave them a summary of what she wrote (because it was already sealed up). They told her to buy a new card, rewrite it, and let them see it first.

3. The Thai teachers in the Prathom English Department are exceedingly high-strung...

...Which is interesting, because I thought Buddhism was about non-attachment and the elimination of desire. I'd always thought of Buddhists as very chill people.

Maybe they've forgotten the Four Noble Truths. I'm pretty sure their desires for perfection are causing suffering. I'm sure they'd love it if I suggested as much.

act only according to that maxim by which you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.

It's generally considered bad manners to let bodily fluids leave the body in public. I assumed this was a universal. Not in Southeast Asia, apparently.

This morning on our way to church Alyssa saw a man stop by a tree, put a finger on one nostril, and blow snot onto the tree with the other nostril.

I know, right?! Gross.

I've also read about people peeing on the sidewalks in Vietnam. Businesspeople, too, in suits. I'll report on this after our October trip.

I don't know about you, but I think the no-releasing-bodily-fluids-in-public rule stands up to the categorical imperative.

no words can describe...

I have new sympathy for non-English speakers in the U.S. Doing the most ordinary things becomes the biggest hassle when you can't communicate verbally.

Like buying a bar of shower soap. You have to play charades to find out whether it's hand soap or body soap. And figuring out which mascara is waterproof, and which is regular. Oh, and there's only one color of mascara here: jet black. Bah.

Also interesting (and annoying) -- Big C, the Thai Walmart, doesn't sell contact solution. They have food, clothes, electronics, makeup, toiletries... everything else... but not contact solution.

parent meeting

Yesterday we had a parent-teacher meeting for P.4 through P.6. I didn't have to say a word, thank goodness. Nummon did all the talking. My job was to stand next to her and nod along as if I understood Thai.

Afterward, a parent came up and introduced himself as Kawin's dad. He expressed concerns that Kawin was having trouble with pronunciation and phonics, as well as forming sentences.

I wanted to say, "Oh, so he's having trouble with the English language, then?"

But, alas, such snarky remarks are unprofessional. I asked him if Kawin ever comes to Reading Rainbow in the mornings. He said no, and I suggested that perhaps coming early and reading aloud to the English teachers would help.

I should have also recommended that he practice English with his son. I think many parents here with good English don't speak it at home because they worry it will affect the kids' Thai skills. But I thought of it after he had walked away.

dancing queen

Today, I started one of my classes a little bit early because the kids were finished with their milk break.

We have dictation first thing on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Today, the first word was "dance."

I repeated it a few times, and the bell rang. And by bell, I mean the little ditty that plays when classes end and begin. It's kind of a tropical sounding song. Kind of bouncy. It's hard to describe; you just have to hear it.

Anyway, I didn't want to continue reading the dictation words over the bell, so I did the logical thing: I started dancing a little jig. I don't know what came over me, really. I never dance in class. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

The kids started saying, "Teechah, numba two, numba two." They were not impressed by my dancing and wanted to hear the next word.

"No, it's not time for dictation; it's time for dancing."

They stared at me, unimpressed by my shenanigans.

Thais confuse me enough. It's only fair that I get to confuse them once in a while.

golden buddha: wat traimit

School was out on Wednesday for the Queen's birthday, so Mariela and I decided to make an excursion to the famed Golden Buddha. It's three meters tall and made from solid gold.

There weren't any convenient buses, so we took a taxi. The driver wanted to use the expressway because of a traffic jam. The toll for the expressway was 45B, and we still hit a little traffic there because people were trying to get to the Grand Palace. 110B later, we were there.

We walked up to a magnificent, but closed, gold and white temple. Adjacent to it was a somewhat less impressive temple with chipping, faded paint. We took off our shoes and went inside.

There was a large golden Buddha statue at the front of the room. It looked to be about three meters high. We sat down and looked around. The walls were unadorned, unlike other wats we'd visited. The red carpet covering the floor was worn and shabby. It seemed an unlikely home for one of the three most important Buddha statues in Bangkok.

Mariela asked me how many carats I thought the Buddha might be. Then we got into a conversation about the difference in carats. We watched a monk perform a ceremony with some worshipers. He tied a string around each person's wrist and flung holy water on them. Drops flicked on us, too.

We got up to leave, went outside, and started perusing our map to figure out where the nearest Metro stop was when a tuk-tuk driver sidled up to us. We started talking about the Golden Buddha and he pointed at the pretty, new, white and gold wat and said, "Oh, no, it's up there. But it's closed until next month."

So that answered Mariela's question: The statue we saw was made from 0 carat gold...

We were somewhat annoyed that we'd paid all that money for the taxi ride and hadn't even seen the Golden Buddha. The tuk-tuk driver offered to give us a ride for 20 baht to our next destination.

Then he told us we had to made a stop at his sponsor's store. This is a common tourist trap, but usually the tourists don't find out they're making a stop until they're already on the road. The driver stops off at a store and tries to get you to buy something, because he'll receive a commission from the store owner.

We started to tell him, "No, thanks," but he told us we could just go in the store for ten minutes, look around, and leave. We didn't have to buy anything. And he'd lower our fare to ten baht. We said OK. It was daytime, after all. What could happen?

He told us the store shirts. We expected a souvenir shop, but he pulled over in front of a tailor, got out, and gestured for us to go inside.

I had to wonder - does that technique really work? Do people just decide to go have some tailored clothes made on a whim? I tend to think not.

Anyway, we looked, left, and got to our destination with no problems.

I'm calling this one a 0% because we didn't see the Buddha we came for, and we paid a lot to get there. Maybe next month.

photos from last weekend

feliz cumpleaños

We've started using Spanish in the office to speak about things we find unpleasant. Maybe it's rude, but they're talking about us constantly in Thai. It's only fair that we have a secret language.

It sparked a lot of questions from the Thai teachers about how we know Spanish, and while waiting out in the sun at the palace today, Alyssa taught Nummon some Spanish phrases.

We glimpsed the Queen as she drove up to the building where she'd give her speech. She was in a car with tinted windows, so we didn't have a great view. Nevertheless, I was about seven yards away from her.

We got to school around 1:00 and went to the palace at 2:30. We sat on tarps outside, chatted with the Thai teachers, fanned ourselves, and ate donuts when boys came by carrying trays full of them.

We waited around in the sun, in navy skirts, long sleeved shirts, and thick, navy suit jackets until 5:00, when she arrived. Very rude of her, really, to keep her guests waiting like that.

She and a whole slew of royalty drove up in a small parade of cream-colored cars. As the first car passed, we all had to bend forward very low and wai. Then, we could look up to sneak a peek.

They went inside and we stood up and faced the building for the national anthem. At the end, the men bowed and the women curtsyed. We sat back down and she delivered her speech. It was streamed to TVs outside, and there were speakers around so everyone could hear.

The funny thing is, almost all the Thais sat around talking to each other and paying no attention to the speech for the next hour. I was glad it turned out to be casual. It was nice to be able to mill around, hunt for donuts, get some cold water, and sit in a chair under the tented area.

When her speech was winding down, everyone returned to the tarps and tucked their feet behind them, awaiting her exit. The royal family loaded into some golf carts, drove around to wave to people, and then took their cars back to the palace villa.

It was mostly an uneventful day, although it was kind of funny to see the Thai teachers in Prathom freaking out in the morning about clothes. Sukjai scrambled around looking for spare navy suit jackets and Sutima made us go the the school convenience store to buy pantyhose. As it turned out, most of the other school teachers didn't wear pantyhose at all.

a piñata would really sweeten the deal

Wednesday is the Queen's birthday. Tomorrow she will deliver a lengthy speech at the palace to an audience of 20,000 people - an audience of which I'll be a part.

Like every other event C--- School has dealings in, this one brings its own Thai craziness.

We were told about the dress code on Thursday or Friday - right before leaving for our weekend away - so we had almost no time to go shopping for the prescribed attire.

The Queen's color is blue, so we must wear blue. And a suit.

You did bring a suit, didn't you?

No. No, we didn't.

We didn't bring suits because we were expressly instructed by Prof. Mueller not to pack suits, because (and she emphasized this point) we'd have no need for suits.

Well, you must wear a suit, if you can find one.

One girl brought her suit jacket from home anyway, and a couple of people made it to a tailor to be measured before we left on Friday.

Oh, and by the way, you mustn't wear black...

Black is the color of mourning here, making it unsuitable for a birthday...

...and no gray either.

Because gray is... what? Black's ugly cousin? So, in the event that you decide to have a suit tailor-made for this shindig, you mustn't pick out the two most versatile and wearable colors. Heaven forbid you're able to wear this outfit again for a job interview.

My second gripe is that we were told to wear pantyhose.

Did I mention this speech takes place outdoors? And will last anywhere from one to three hours? In the hottest part of the day?

Yeah. Because in a crowd of 20,000 people at 2 in the afternoon, the Queen is going to notice and/or care that some farang teachers aren't wearing suit jackets and pantyhose.

To all this stuffiness I say, "Whatever!"

weekend away

All of the American teachers from C--- School were invited to the principal's house in Kanchanaburi for the weekend. It was amazing.

Her huge, beautiful, airy home was styled after some Khmer ruins in the province.

Her best friend, the vice principal, has a traditional Thai home next door. Thai homes are made of wood and built on stilts. There are living areas underneath the houses where people eat and hang out.

Their houses are right off the river, so we got to walk through her manicured lawns and down a winding path to enjoy nice views and cool weather.

On Saturday we took a bus to Erawan National Park where we hiked to see the seven tiers of Erawan waterfall and swam in the icy, pale blue pools they made. The only less-than-awesome part about the swimming pools was the fish. They nibble the dead skin off your feet and legs, which is feely (yes, feely) and just plain weird.

We ate lunch and then RODE ELEPHANTS! Our mahout jumped off and took pictures of us and led the elephant to the river, where he motioned for one of us to sit on its neck. Mariela and Alyssa didn't want to, so I was the lucky one. It was a bumpy ride, and her wiry neck hairs were kind of itchy. Her skin was thick and leathery. And I touched her ears.

After the elephant ride, we went to the Death Railway where thousands of POWs died building a Thai-Burma railway for Japan during WWII. We rode the train and went home for the night.

Today we went to one of the war cemeteries and the JEATH Museum. The name stands for Japan, England, Australia/America, Thailand, Holland.

It was built to look like the bamboo huts where the prisoners slept and was full of pictures, paintings, and newspaper articles. I read one particularly horrific article from a British or Australian newspaper detailing the diseases and malnutrition the prisoners experienced. Dysentery, malaria, gangrene, tapeworms... you name it.

In the last part of the museum, there were faded, water-damaged photos of old Australian, British, American, and Dutch men - survivors who had returned in the 80s to visit.

We passed a second, larger war cemetery on the way to our next stop. As we looked out the bus windows, we saw an gray-haired man and his wife walking up and down the aisles of headstones. They were standing in front of one grave, reading the name, when she put her arm around him.

It was sobering, watching that old man and wondering about his experiences.

We went to a jewelry store and then to an island resort, where we boarded a floating restaurant and ate while drifting up and down the river between mountains and floating discos.

dining with Thais

I had a taste of legitimate Thai culture tonight.

I tutored after school until 5:00. My Thai counterpart, Nummon, was still in the office.

When the student left, she asked what I usually do for dinner. She told me about a delicious place near the school and asked if I wanted to go with her.

We got in her car and headed for the gate of the grounds. We passed Ekapol and Kate, who teach computers and art. Nummon told them to hop in.

On the way, Nummon quizzed me over what I liked and didn't like to eat. We got to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant and sat down. She took a slip of paper and a pencil from a box at the end of the table and started scribbling our order. She handed it to the lady who owned the place and that was that.

They talked in Thai most of the time, with Nummon pausing to explain in English or ask me a question. A man and a woman walked in. Kate had been gossiping about him the moment before, and Nummon taught me a Thai term that translates to "die hard."

From what I understood (which wasn't much), dying hard is a term you use when you're talking about someone and they walk in just as you're saying their name. She explained that when you're talking about them, it's kind of in the abstract, like they're frozen in time and space -- or like a dead person, she said. (Yeah, it doesn't make much sense to me, either. Especially as I try to articulate it here.) So when the person walks in, they go from being dead to alive.

"And it means they will live a very long life."
"So... living a long life is a bad thing?"

The Thai teachers looked at each other.

"Well, it could be a good thing..."
long pause
"...that's a very good question."

I didn't understand at all, really, so I suppose it's inaccurate to say I learned a new Thai concept.

I did witness a cultural thing I'd read about. Nummon went and paid for the meal. I asked her how much I owed. Ekapol and Kate didn't seem at all concerned about the bill. Nummon said it was no problem, that she was covering it.

"Really, are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes, anytime."

We all stood up, and Ekapol said to me, matter-of-factly, "It's OK - She's the elder here."

The oldest or wealthiest person always pays the bill when people go out. According to one website, you also foot the bill if you go out with a group for your birthday.

influenza of the swinish variety

I don't know how things are going in the U.S., but here in Asia, people are freaked out by the swine flu.

Before we could leave our plane in Tokyo back in May, doctors in hazmat suits boarded carrying equipment straight out of the movie E.T. They walked up and down the aisles, pointing these infrared heat-detection devices at us to identify and detain the infected ones lurking surreptitiously among the healthy.

It's become a big joke with the Americans in our office. You can't cough when the Thai teachers are in the room. If you do (and this has happened at least once), a teacher will pull you aside, looking concerned, and tell you that you must go to the nurse's office and get a surgical mask.

On the bright side, the school finally decided that if teachers are sick, they should stay home.

The previous policy was this: If you're sick, get dressed and ready and board the van with all the other American teachers (thus exposing them to whatever you have). Once you're at school, don't teach your classes. Instead, go lie on a little bed in the nurse's office all day. At 4:00, go home like everyone else.

Of course, that was nonsense. But by now we've learned: while in Thailand, you must let go of your beloved Western rationality. It's of little help to you here.

Being sick in Bangkok is an alienating experience - like being a modern leper. Don't cough or sneeze on an elevator, in a bus, or in a public bathroom. People will shoot you a dirty look as if to say, "Why must you insist on ruining life for the rest of us?"

Last week, I went to the clinic on the grounds with a cold. When I described my symptoms to the woman at the desk in the waiting room, she immediately escorted me to a building across the street, where I was given a green surgical mask and made to wait outside. I felt like a menace to society.

Not all people in masks are sick, though. Many of them are fine - just paranoid about catching the flu.

Hey, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em...

100% success

After two and a half months in Bangkok, Mariela and I finally visited the magnificent Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew, the temple of the Emerald Buddha. Why the delay in visiting this Thai landmark?

We just got our work ID badges on Thursday. One of the perks of having this particular badge is that we get into the Grand Palace complex for free (rather than 350B). We also get to pay the "Thai price" for all national parks.

We were pumped about getting to go through the "Free for Thai" line at the gate.

The grounds were beautiful. The architecture looked a lot like what we saw at the palace in Cambodia, only bigger.

We arrived at 10:25 - just in time for a free tour. Our guide was nice and he had a sense of humor.

He told us about the different buildings. One houses the ashes of royal family members. One is covered in pastel-colored pieces of Chinese ceramic pottery. Two golden stupas are held up by monkeys and demons. Everything is covered in either gold leaf or tiny, shiny bits of color.

The actual palace looks rather European, until you get to the roof, which is made of red, orange, blue, and green ceramic tiles with curly gold flourishes rising up from the corners. And then there are the funny trees out front that look like something from a Dr. Seuss book.




The grounds also house the longest painting in the world. It's a massive mural of the story of Ramakian, the Thai version of the Indian epic, The Ramayana. Too bad it's been four years since I read that book. I don't remember anything about it. We're planning to go to a traditional Thai performance of Ramakian at some point this year. I'll need to brush up on Rama's adventures.