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.

tickled pink?

For those who aren't in the know about the state of the King of Thailand, his health is deteriorating and he's been in the hospital for about two months.

Yesterday at work, our boss made an announcement.

"You need to wear pink every day in December, starting tomorrow."
Right. Okay. Thanks for the giving us plenty of time to find a new work wardrobe.

The King's astrologer, or someone, prescribed pink as an auspicious color to promote his health. The last time he left the hospital, he wore a pale pink shirt. If if we wear pink, he'll get better sooner.

I don't have any pink shirts, and I didn't have time to go shopping yesterday. I put on what I thought was the next best thing: a skirt with pink roses printed all over it. There are bits of black in the background of the print, but, overall, the skirt is dark and light pink. I wore a black top with it.

Nummon motioned for me to follow her into the hallway this morning. She had a pink pashmina in her hand and a concerned look on her face.

"Lalen, you need to wear this today. Your clothes are more like 80% black and 20% pink. No one in the school has to know this isn't your scarf."

I don't know who taught her percentages. I was under the impression that my ensemble was 50/50. But colors are taken seriously here, and black is a color of mourning. It's easier to nod and smile and wear the scarf.

So, today I'm experimenting with different scarf styles:

par-tay

Last night I was reminded of why my students don't listen.

We were made to attend the 60th birthday/retirement party for three teachers from our school yesterday.

Two MCs started off the program with what I can only assume to be some cleverly-scripted banter. As our table of farangs sat watching them and eating our Pad Thai, I noticed that no one else was looking their way, much less listening to them.

The principal of the school (who's kind of a big deal) also got up to give a speech. Not a head turned; people just kept on with their dinner conversations.

The same thing happened at the Queen's birthday back in August. It baffled me just as much then as it did last night.

I don't know where I got the silly notion that if someone has a microphone, they're probably saying something important.

Later in the evening, alumni, students, and teachers gave performances ranging from beautiful to amusing to offensive to the ear.

The Prathom teachers did a traditional Thai dance, which was SO fun to watch. The women looked beautiful -- like painted dolls. We all agreed that Aekapol (a guy I teach with twice a week) was 10 times more graceful than any of us.

Next, one of the Chinese teachers did a traditional Chinese dance. She wore a gorgeous gown covered in light blue and gold sequins. The way she moved was mesmerizing. Sometimes her arms looked like cobras. Other times, her hands looked like twitterpated birds chasing each other.

Four male teachers ballroom danced together. One was wearing a dress made of a black trash bag covered in colorful paper flowers. We thought perhaps he was supposed to be a ladyboy. There was a female teacher in the same bag dress with a flower in her mouth, trying to get the attention of the dancing men. Not sure what the point of this skit was.

The final act was a traditional Thai song performed by one of the custodial staff. I can't imagine a world in which it would meet any criteria for beauty, but, inexplicably, everyone cheered as she sang the first few words. It was kind of like a nasal Tarzan yell. Really, no description can do justice to the sound, so I'll leave it at that.

But Mariela was right when she leaned over and said to me, "Just think: In all our lives, we'll never, ever attend another work party quite like this one."

love and marriage

I was talking tonight with a mom I tutor for and weddings came up. She said Thais invite everyone they know to their weddings, including coworkers. The average guest list is around 1,000 people.

I can't imagine trying to pay for a soiree like that. But she told me receptions here are more like cocktail parties, since you'd have to sell a kidney to fund a sit-down meal for 1,000 guests.

This mom also said a law was recently passed here saying that women are no longer required to take their husband's last name. She told me more women are opting to keep their last names since the divorce rate is so high (around 50%, like the U.S.). Women don't want to go through the hassle of changing their names, just in case it doesn't work out.

Seems to me you're doomed from the start if you take that attitude.

homemaking

The students made a list of classes they take in their workbook yesterday. Along with Thai, history, and geography, several mentioned something called "vocational."

I asked Nummon about it. She said the kids learned cooking, flower arranging, sewing, and sweeping.

"Sweeping?!" I said.

"Yes, you know, what the different tools are, how to use a broom..."

"Why do they learn to use a broom at school?"

"Because it's something they need to know later in life."

She said this as if sweeping were a totally normal thing to teach a fourth grader in a school class.

How much instruction is involved, I wonder? I mean, the only way you can really mess up is by holding the brushy end up and scraping the stick against the ground... but you'd think most people would figure that out without 30 minutes of classroom instruction.

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.

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.

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...

today's special

School lunches are always an adventure. You never know what lurks in the vat of brothy soup or the pan of mystery meat.

I can normally find a least one tasty dish each day. Today's lunch was only so-so, but what greeted me in the teachers' air-conditioned lunchroom robbed me of any appetite I had.

There, on a gold stand surrounded by flowers, was a pig's face.

And sitting right in front of the pig face was one of the Thai teachers, eating his lunch as though nothing was amiss.

I looked around, and there were, in fact, two pig faces in the room.

The P.4 through P.6 students had a Buddhist ceremony of some kind this morning. There were other gold trays with fruit, flowers, and sea creatures. I think they were all part of the offerings for the ceremony - NOT for eating, thank goodness.

Still, eating in a room with pig faces was unnerving.

from me to you

Thais like to give gifts. Erin, one of the American teachers, read somewhere that when you receive a gift from someone here, you're supposed to give them something of comparable value.

Thais also give gifts if you've helped them out in some way. I've experienced this twice with Nummon.

One day after lunch, she handed me a pastry from the campus bakery. It was shaped like a bear's head, with a little icing face. She said, "Thank you for helping me." I had no idea what I had done, but I accepted it.

Nummon was out sick all last week, so I taught on my own and spent my afternoons cutting out new pieces for the bulletin boards instead of grading. On Thursday, I was catching up on test grading. I had a question about one kid's answer, and I turned around to ask her about it.

Before I could say anything, she thrust a carton of grape juice into my hands and smiled. "Thank you for helping last week. It's got lots of vitamin C, so you won't get H1N1 flu."

What a weirdly thoughtful thank-you gift, I thought to myself. I liked it.