What is Success? Part II

Saturday, July 18, 2009

This is part II of my "What is Success?" piece. I don't really have a good introduction for this one as I did for the last. I tried a number of times to get this thing off the ground and failed every time. Finally, while waiting for a bus at a small tea shop, I scribbled these thoughts down on pieces of paper used to wrap up meat and poultry. I ended up missing my bus but at least I finally got these thoughts out of my head.

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Meetings were set up in March. The idea was talked about openly as early as February. Get started early in order to stave off the impending doom of self-defeat and failure. This has become the mantra. Surprisingly, it worked. With subtly whispers of an idea at first, I began to plant the seeds of my purposed project back in late February and by March it seemed as thou the wheels of progress were slowly beginning to turn. This had to be done in haste as time was against us… right from the beginning. The school year was ending and if my project wasn’t thrown into some sort of supersonic planning and preparation stage before every one left to go on vacation, I knew the whole thing would be a waste. A turd slowly circling the drain, down the pipes she goes.

What began as casual and then serious discussions (do they understand what the hell I’m talking about?) about my project soon progressed to meetings with the directors of both schools I currently find myself occupying. I explained the basic idea and following a number of grunts and nods, both directors appeared to give me their approval. This was wonderful though annoying as I knew this meeting would need to be repeated again and as it turned out, again and again and again. This would be the first of many snags, tears, and general fuck ups to occur throughout the planning stages of my projects. To understand the nature of this particular snag, you must first understand the nature of my project.

Being a TCCO volunteer, I’m expected both by Peace Corps and by my Thai counterparts to participate in and host English camps. Participate, this part I’ve done. Host, not as of yet, but this problem would soon be resolved. The basic idea of my project was simple but some how I always manage to over complicate the sucker each and every time I attempt to explain it. If, after finishing this I realize I’ve managed to mangle the thing again, then I’ll just draw a picture. Cartoons and stick figures. You’ll get the idea.

So the idea was simple. A typical English camp is hosted by one school with surrounding schools participating. My camp would change this formula some by having each of the participating schools host one day of the camp. This would at first seem impossible if one imagines each school in the district hosting one day of a continuing English camp. The thing would never end. Trainers would go insane from lack of sleep and the near constant use of low level pigeon English while the students would likely turn on us at some point due to our lack of new games and activities. At some point we would run out of ideas and would begin to recycle. The students would soon pick up on this and our authority would wane resulting in near certain mutiny and the children running off into the hills and forests to live a most tribal lifestyle. Never to speak English again. No, such an outcome couldn’t be allowed. What the hell was I talking about? Is it time for a pictures yet?

To avoid such Armageddon, this camp would be a local’s only party. Only the schools from my community were to be invited. The schedule was to work like this… School A would host the first camp with schools B, C, and D attending. School B would then host the next camp with schools A, C, and D attending. And so on and so forth. The 6th graders from each school would attend every camp and so every student would get the chance to play host at least once. The camps would be tied together with the central theme of practicing and focusing on the four basic skills of English; One camp for reading, one camp for writing, one for speaking, and another for listening. And just to make sure the trainers wouldn’t be over stressed or worked due to four straight days of English camps plus changing venues every night just to set up again the next day, the camps were to be planned for every weekend of a month yet to be determined. At the time, I was thinking May. This meant the first Saturday or Sunday would be reserved for the first camp to be hosted by school A. The second Saturday or Sunday would be school B’s chance to shine. You get the idea. Or at least that was the idea.

This was all done in the name of community collaboration. A belief and sense that something was amiss within my community and that this project might be a way to help. While I live in Ban Triam village and teach at Ban Triam and neighboring Ban Bang Wa Schools, my community is actually much larger. Being 15k north of the town of Khuraburi and 10k south of the even smaller town of Suksamran, my community consists of a cluster of four to five villages between these two hamlets along highway 4, the artery of the south. Ban Triam lies smack in the middle and because it is one of the larger villages and possesses a wide-open football field at the school, it often hosts all community events, festivals, and celebrations. This is both logical and sensible, a rarity in Thailand. Perhaps because of this, an underlying sense of strife has emerged among the other community leaders of the neighboring villages. Village envy if you will. My purposed English camp was an attempt to ease the tension, to allow each village and school to not only participate but also claim ownership in the camp. It made sense at the time at least.

And so back to the turd. During my many casual, and then serious, conversations with co-teachers at both Ban Triam and Ban Bang Wa Schools, I made sure the point was driven home that this was to be a community based English camp with input and participation from the neighboring villages essential for success. My hope was to set up a meeting with the directors and English teachers from Ban Huaysap, Ban Suan Mai, and my won schools of Ban Triam and Ban Bang Wa. This way my idea could be purposed and explained with questions being answered all in one meeting. Logical? Yes. Hence the high probability of failure.

Meeting with my own schools director was easy and both meetings, Ban Triam and Ban Bang Wa, I reluctantly participated in. Following those meetings, I stepped up my prodding of my co-teacher, Moosa, at Ban Triam to help set up the meeting between the teachers and directors of all fours schools. By this time it was mid March. School would be out soon and wouldn’t resume again until mid May. June was the best chance now for the camps. I continued to insist that Moosa help set up the meeting and continually inquired as to his progress in that endeavor. Finally, in late May I rode my bike nearly to Suksamran to meet with the English teacher and director of Ban Huaysap School. Moosa had assured me that they had been informed of my project proposal but a meeting had not been planned yet due to scheduling conflicts. When I arrived, to my surprise they had never heard of my project. It was the same story in Ban Suan Mai.

Once I had made my proposal, both schools expressed their eagerness to participate. This lead to a meeting quickly being set up which would be held at Ban Triam School. I quickly called my co-teacher at Ban Bang Wa School to confirm the date and time and that was that. Upon returning to Ban Triam School I informed Moosa of the date and time of the meeting and thanked him for his help. Thais don’t understand sarcasm.

I should have learned an important lesson that day. I should have learned that lesson two months ago when the meeting failed to be set up and individual meetings took their place. My trust in Moosa, and Thais for that matter, and faith that what needed to be done would be done would be tested and broken time and time again. Clearly Pavlov’s dog is smarter than I because I could never quite figure out what that damn bell was for.

What is Success? Part 1

Sunday, June 28, 2009

This will be a multi-entry essay covering my recent attempt to hold an English camp in my village. This project was a labor of love and brought me to the brink of total collapse. Giving up and returning home was in my head numerous days following this project for the first time ever in my Peace Corps service. I'm choosing to write about this experience because I believe it is a perfect window into what Peace Corps service is truly like. I don't want this experience to fade with time and I don't want the details to slowly bleed together and then be forgotten all together. Finally, without my girlfriend Christine, I would have never been able to come out of all of this in one piece.


What is Success?

Part I

I’ve started this story at least a hundred times in my head and perhaps a hundred times more on paper. In my head it is fluid, as if just one of many passing dreams which grace my pillow and then just as quickly fall away again. And yet I can’t seem to transfer what my mind is able to do with such ease into words. Perhaps a drill and a cup of some sort would do the trick. A container of some kind will obviously be needed to catch the spillage of these liquid thoughts, which seem awash in my brain. A dixie cup should do. I’m not that smart. Shouldn’t need to hold much.

The story is simple, really. As a Peace Corps Volunteer here in Thailand, I wanted to hold an English camp as I was expected to hold such English camps at some point during my service. I planned said English camp, English camp turned into mammoth cluster fuck, students never knew the difference, and so English camp was technically a success. This is the basic outline of what happened. The problem is that my English camp was not a success. Not as it was originally intended to be. And yet it was. I had never seen my students so excited to be learning English or to be at school for that matter.

A complete mental collapse occurred roughly a day or two before my English Camp was to take place. This was due to the cluster fuck issues, which were referred to above. These will be addressed later. At this point my body was running on autopilot and 3 in 1 instant coffee. Finally, with the camp complete and everyone having gone home for the day, I got the hell out of Dodge resolving to take some time off to get my head straight. To figure out what just happened and what the hell was I really doing in this country. Everything needed to be reevaluated.

Success is a difficult thing to quantify in Peace Corps. The butterfly effect is in many ways, real as a volunteer has no idea what kind of impact he or she will really have on an individual or community years down the road. The current Country Director of Peace Corps Thailand likes to tell the story of how he began a small co-op watermelon garden in his village in Issan back when he was a volunteer in Thailand in the late 60’s. Little did he know that years would go by before he would return to that same village to discover that the community leaders of that village would take that idea and run with it. Now, the province of that village is the leading producer of watermelon for all of Thailand with our CD’s village leading the way. This is a great story to tell green horn volunteers as they complete their training, as the ripple effects of our presence here can never fully be measured. It’s also a horrible story to tell as it soon contributes to our own self-loathing and depression.

It has been studied and proven that within three months of service, Peace Corps Volunteers come down from the initial high of being sworn in as volunteers and arriving at site full of hope and ideas of how to make the world a better place, starting with their villages. Once those three months have passed, many if not all PCVs learn the reality of Peace Corps life, which is often very different from the commercials. After being filled with excellent project ideas for nearly 3 months during training, it can kind of be a bit of a let down when the ideas you’ve been day dreaming about are quickly shot down or ignored the moment you arrive at site. It hurts a bit… getting kicked in the balls hurts too.

Having a good idea shot down or ignored is part of life though as anyone older than you will testify. But I will argue that this is a wee bit different. Few middle management types have ever had an HIV/AIDS education camp turned down because “no one here has AIDS” even though you attended one of the village leaders sons funerals just last weekend. Cause of death…AIDS related infection. Even small improvements, which seem logical, are shot down for the simple reason that those in charge simply have their heads so far up their asses that they can’t see anything except their own stomach.

And then the volunteer is reminded of the story of the watermelons and how a simple project can have far reaching effects long after we’re gone. This is all well and good except for the fact that few people will ever tell you during training that for every project that gets off the ground, a minimum of 5 dead or dying projects were left in its wake. And then the volunteer takes another drink.

As a volunteer, it is our job to come up with project ideas with the help of our community in order to better our community. But due to the ripple effects of our role here, the impact of these projects may not be felt or seen until long after we’re gone. Because of this, a volunteer will often only see a project in the beginning stages, when the project is struggling, and near total collapse. This is why success is difficult to measure in Peace Corps. If a person were to ask a volunteer if their project was a success or is successful at the present time, the volunteer would likely say they didn’t know or would possibly reply in the negative. Honestly, who knows…

This is the fate of projects in Peace Corps Thailand and as such, the fate of the volunteers who work so hard to make something of them. My project, most recently, was an English camp. But not just any English camp, this would have a twist which I hoped would bring my community together…

Hoosiers We Are Not...

Tuesday, February 17, 2009



Various States in the Union have various things to be proud of. Washington State can be proud of the fact that it has given at least three quarters of every town in America at least two Starbucks, roughly a mile apart from each other. Texas has given America Tex-Mex as well as the knowledge that if we 'mess' with you, something bad will happen. The signs aren't that specific. New England has clam chowder. I think they all claim that as their own. Everyone except Vermont which is probably pretty happy with it's own maple syrup.



As for Indiana... Indiana can be proud of, among other things, it's lengthy heritage with the sport of basketball. I recently read an article that even though the Indiana Hoosiers are facing yet another loosing season, they continue to fill just about every seat of the arena. True dedication from a die hard group of basketball fanatics.



Which brings me to my next point. Indiana University is the only university in the great State of Indiana to win an NCAA Men's Division I Title. I.U. has won 5 titles in total but has yet to add a 6th title since 1987. I believe that was roughly the same year that Somalia last saw rain.




Now obviously these two events are not related nor could my own lack of ability with a basketball be related to Indiana Universities March Madness record throughout the early 90's or the weather patterns across the Horn of Africa during roughly the same time period. No. These items are not related at all but they work as a damn good excuse. Because honestly, when I think back upon it, I could have been a great basketball player if only it had just rained a little more in Mogadishu.




Two brand new nets were just installed on the goals of what could sympathetically be called my schools basketball court. I knew this was happening because I was born in Anderson, Indiana. I honestly can't remember how to multiply or divide fractions but I can tell you when basketball is being played within a 3 mile radius.




Nothing right now.




Radar is clear.




With new nets, it wasn't hard to find students who wanted to try out these new toys. After a very brief lesson on how to properly attempt a jump shot, a game was organized of boys v. girls with me balancing out the girls side.




It is important to understand, realize, and know that we did not actually play basketball. To play basketball would be to play by at least some of the rules and to play by at least some of the rules one would first have to know at least some of the rules. Dribbling is a rule. Fouls make up a number of the rules. The 3/5 second lane violation...now that's a rule!




I have quickly learned during my time over here as well as with previous experiences with children that rules are bad and that games are good. This applies also to the NBA. Children, if left to their own devices, will often create their own rules. Lord of the Flies meets Bobby Knight. Now obviously I'm not going to let a friendly game of basketball turn into a hunting party for the little fat kid who's hyper obsessed with the conk shell but I'm also not going to spend the next 25 minutes attempting to explain in broken Thai and English the 'carrying' rule to kids who can't dribble in the first place.




Instead of basketball, what we played was more of a form of soccer, rugby, and basketball all rolled into one. I doubt I need to explain the rugby element as the mental image alone should be satisfactory. Still, their should have been more jump balls than the ( insert random basketball almanac statistic here ) game between the ( insert team A ) and the ( insert team B ).




The soccer element made more sense than the rugby element. The rugby element was just bad officiating on the part of the absent officials who had likely been paid off by local police. With soccer, the students just drew on what they knew and made up for what they didn't know. If the ball went out below the net, and it was the offenses ball, they would automatically take it out from the corner instead of from under the net. Their version of a corner kick. When the ball was moved up the court, the students would pass and pass and pass. Rarely would anyone ever dribble the ball. This of course makes sense as no one actually knew how to dribble.


After what felt like a good solid 45 minutes of play in the punishing Southeast Asian sun, the bell rang calling an end to the day. During the last 20 minutes, I came to realize that a surprise game of basketball with my students was not a blessing but was in fact some sort of punishment. Clearly I had sinned in some way earlier that day or week and was now being punished for my wickedness.


Either that or I am shockingly out of shape. I prefer the God theory as I'm comfortable with my body just the way it is.


On second thought, maybe I'm not as conditioned as I thought I was. But then again, these kids are in their element. I'd like to see how well they'd fair in 40-50 degree weather back home in Indiana.


As a final note to anyone who is interested; the final score was something around 7 - 5 in favor of the boys. As we were playing primarily by soccer rules rather than by basketball rules, I'm only assuming that I would have been the only individual who would have counted each basket as two points rather than as one point. It's also worth noting that as much as I tried to involve the girls, I ended up scoring all 5 points, marking a personal best for myself. If you scored the game as 14 - 10 then I blew my personal best clear out of the water.


Did I forget to mention that I absolutely suck at basketball and am completely the wrong person to be teaching these kids anything about the sport?


Radar is still clear.

Funeral

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Their is a volunteer in our group who publishes a blog roughly once a day. I just checked before I started writing and his last entry was dated at 21 hours ago. Before that he had another entry that was dated at 22 hours before that. I have no idea when my last entry was. At one point I was going back and attempting to write about old stories which had already taken place and then adjusting the date to make it appear as though I had really just written about it as it had taken place. Yeah. I'm really no good with this.

I don't have a plan to fix this nor do I believe I would actually stick to any such plan of my own creation. More than likely this will be my only posting for the next 3 months. And sadly I'm doing this from my schools computer so I don't have any pictures to go with this posting. But how's about this. For those of you who still check this, please feel free to fill my inbox with as much spam as you want. From hate mail to just the dumbest shit you can possibly think of. I'll get the hint. To stop the crap, I have to write. I'm serious. Who knows. Maybe this will work. Or maybe I'll just block your address and go back to watching old episodes of Lost on DVD.

That show is weird!

A funeral is a free meal in my village and typically a good one at that. The other night the surprise feast was Yum Nan Moo or Pig Skin Salad. Just as it's name suggests, it was amazing and I couldn't help but have seconds. Other staples of a traditional funeral were there including 'Back up' curry which is a traditional Southern Thai dish which is simple and easy to make in massive amounts hence its name 'Back up' curry.

The departed was the brother of the wife of a man who use to be on the board of directors of one of my schools. He was in his early 40s and had just passed away from HIV. Don't let this alarm you though. My village as well as the surrounding villages doesn't have a problem with HIV as compared with some of the other villages and provinces of Thailand ( Oh yes we do! ). A total of 5 monks officiated over the ceremony which could be compared to any Roman Catholic service in terms of length and entertainment value.

The first time I attended a funeral, my mind was razor sharp and keen to pick up the subtle details that were all around me. Numerous Religious Studies courses from University taught me to be aware of both secular and non-secular symbols around me when attending any formal gathering ( i.e. a funeral ). Examples of this include the strict dress code which is adhered to of wearing only black and white. Only one kind of desert is served and is only served at funerals. A shroud is placed over the Spirit House of the resident in question. And so on and so forth.

After the 9th or 10th funeral, the mystery ceases except for the question of what will be served that evening. Sometimes the food is horrible, to be honest, while other times the food is amazing. Is it wrong to write a culinary review of a funeral? Probably. But what if the food was really really really good? A traditional Western funeral will typically involve various forms of finger foods which are served following the funeral services. A Thai funeral is a bit different. A full meal is provided to the guests, after which the services take place. This all takes place at the home of the family of the deceased. If it could be compared to anything the West has, then perhaps it best matches an Irish wake played in reverse.

The other night when I attended the funeral of which I have the clearest memory of, as it is the most recent one I have been witness to, I remember wondering if flash photography would be inappropriate. This is a line I have not yet crossed but one I am prepared to. A curious thing, Thai's never turn off their cell phones and as a result of this, at least 4 calls were received by various individuals during the funeral. Not only were these calls received but conversations were held. The monks who presided over the occasion, stoic figures, were not phased. Nor should they have been. No one was phased by this except perhaps myself. This is not something unusual for Thai culture. Voicemail is unusual. Calling someone back is unusual. Accepting a call in the middle of a funeral, that's normal.

I have been in Thailand for over a year now and have been witness to many strange occurrences. An 'elephant show' randomly showed up at my school yesterday and made camp. Three elephants romped around the schools football field, took a shit, and then left. It was "The Greatest Show on Earth!" This will probably stick in my mind longer than the tiny things I have witnessed. Cell phones being answered regardless of the situation. A family of 6 riding down the road on a moped including Grandma holding a 9 month old infant. My star student wearing a shirt that said "Fuck Off Wanker!" in a dance competition. These memories will have to be triggered in order to resurface which is sad because these are the memories which have truly been at the center of my Peace Corps experience. And funerals are just an example.

Happy New Year!!

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Leadership is important. Especially in large groups. Especially during large celebrations or major holidays. Especially when alcohol is added to the equation. At 11:59pm, it was clear that the large gathering of Thais and Farangs lacked leadership. Our tiny group of fellow volunteers and friends had already become aware of this fact and were already formulating a solution to this problem.

Without question, the largest tourist attraction in the South of Thailand is Phuket. Patong beach is the tourist center of Phuket and at the heart of Patong, or perhaps it could be called its liver, is Bangla Road. Comparable to Khao San Rd. in Bangkok should it ever have had a love child with Soi Cowboy. (Google these if you're unfamiliar.) Filled with trinket shops, bars, Go-Go bars, and night clubs, Bangla Rd. also has a really good seafood restaurant just off to the right near one of the 7/11s. Good seafood at a reasonable price! Bangla Rd. is the only place in the South where you can pet a lizard and a tranny in less than 5 minutes. Then go for a burger and fries to contemplate what the hell just happened.

At some point in December, the high officials of Phuket either found or created a large Christmas tree. I'm not sure which as it was dark and to be honest, I wasn't really interested if the damn thing was real or fake. This behemoth of a thing was erected at the mouth of Bangla Rd. where the road meets the beach. This was our meeting point for our New Years celebration. It was also the meeting place of several hundred other people. Luckily for us, we only slightly looked like lost idiots. Ah hah! An advantage!

Having gathered together under the brilliant lights of the Bangla Christmas tree, we were left with the frightening realization that a stark problem to these festivities was falling into place. 2009 would arrive at 12:00am. That was in exactly 7 minutes.

10 minutes.

5 minutes.

8 minutes?

Their was a pack of Dutch or slow Germans who were already celebrating about 15 yards away. Everyone else was standing around. Drinking. Talking. Looking at their watches and cell phones.

Nobody knew when New Years was but what was even more apparent to our group was that the Thais in charge (were their Thais in charge?) probably didn't know either. And even if they did know they would probably be 15 minutes late, as usual. Something had to be done.

An open discussion and debate was started as to when and for how long a count down should begin/take place. Obviously we would all 'know' when the moment was right but how long should we count? 30 seconds? 10 seconds? 5 seconds? One volunteer wanted to count down from 2 minutes He was quickly labeled an idiot and was flogged to death with the man purse he was carrying. An item he insisted was stylish but in fact proved a very affective weapon against him. We then began to count down from 10.

Quickly asking if Everyone was ready, (It's the proper way to begin any exercise with students, ages 8-12, and has become habitual with many volunteers) we began to count down from 10. By the time we reached 8 we had everyone in the general area counting. By 5 we had the whole beach. 3 - 2 - 1 Happy New Year! At this point the entire beach erupted in celebration with dance and song and drink. A universal since a joy swept over everyone.

Peace Corps creates leaders.

Roughly 15 minutes later, a massive firework show erupted over the beach marking the New Year. As we expected, the Thais were late. We stayed to watch the show and later adjourned to a nearby Go-Go Bar to challenge the dancers to game after game of Connect 4.

Happy New Year

p.s. Never play Connect 4 with a Go-Go Girl for money. You might as well just give her your wallet.

Khun Peter

Monday, December 22, 2008

This is an e-mail which I sent to friends and a few family members just before Christmas. As the e-mail reveals, I didn't want close family to know of this for fear of the concern it would create over my safety here in Thailand. Please note that although the listed date for this entry on this blog will read sometime in December, the actual date of this posting is Feb 12, 2009. The holiday season has passed and I feel it's ok now to reveal to everyone what happened.

Dear Friends,

I hope you are all having a wonderful Christmas and are staying warm. As for me... I'm currently sun-burnt from spending too much time out on the beach yesterday and from swimming in my little watering-hole-style creek the day before. A few fellow volunteers are here visiting from way up north and so I'm showing them the spirit of the South. Spicy food, curry, and of course beaches and various water sports. It's about 3 to 5 C up in the north right now which is nothing compared to the winter storms some of you are facing but to me, that's just crazy. It hasn't dipped below 23 C so far this winter and I'd consider that cold at night. I mean, I wear pajamas to bed and am sure to curl up under a nice warm blanket! Don't get me wrong... the fan is always going but still. Boy it's cold over here!!

Well, now that you all hate me, I thought I'd share a quick story with you. This actually just happened yesterday so all of the details are still pretty fresh in my mind though I doubt they'll ever go away. I'm not sure If I ever told any of you about Khun Peter. Peter is one of about 2 or 3 farangs (foreigners) who lives in my village though he has lived both here in the village and in Thailand in general the longest. Born in Algeria but an immigrant to Australia, Peter has the strangest accent of anyone I've ever met. Like a cocky French Canadian with a Crocodile Dundee fetish. Add about half a case of beer and a bottle of whiskey and you've got Peter. He's been living in Thailand for over 20 years. Southeast Asia for another 10 or 15+ before that. And my small village for just over 2 years. Peter lives down by the beach in a small bungalow style shack with about 4 dogs. The true bohemian lifestyle in this tropical paradise. He was a teacher at one of the major universities in Bangkok, or so he claims, but now spends his time as sort of a freelance English teacher. He runs a small school just outside of his home where students can come and learn English during school breaks and he helps tutor community and business leaders on the side. All and all, not a bad way to live out ones golden years.

All the trouble started yesterday morning when my friends and I went out for breakfast. Everyone was talking about Peter. He had apparently been bitten by a snake though no one knew any of the details. More specifically, no one knew if he was alive or dead. Later on, as we made our way closer to the beach and stopped by a small mini mart for some water, we found out from the lady who runs the shop that although Peter was in fact alive, he had been bitten by a snake at his house that was about as wide around as a football. Imagine that if you will... At lunch that day we heard more stories about Peter which were then followed up by questions. People of course wanting to know if I knew anything about Peter. Details or information that they didn't already know. That night we went out for dinner with one of my co-teachers who had just heard the news broadcast over the local radio station. Peter was dead. He had been bitten twice by a king cobra. Once on the upper arm and once on the lower leg while walking his dogs down near the beach. He apparently tried to get back to his house but never made it. He died within the hour.

We ended up going to the funeral that night which was held at the largest temple in the main city. A very small affair. Only about 50 or so people came which is tiny for a Thai style funeral. But interestingly, he had a Thai style funeral. I think for many of the ecco-tourists that come and go around her, they would just ship their bodies back home and quickly forget who they were. His friends and neighbors were visibly shaken and still in shock over what happened. He had a job teaching English to higher ups at one of the small factories in the village. All of the factories in the village are owned by one woman who has various elements of her family running them. He met her, she liked him, she became his patron. At the funeral, all of the traditional rites were observed. The coffin was beautifully decorated and lavishly ornate as was the small alter in front of it. Food was offered to the guests though the funeral being last minute and late in the evening, few people were hungry. In fact, for being last minute, it was very well put together. The funny thing about it though is that I think Peter might have hated all of it. From our meetings and our conversations, he hated the Thai obsession with ritual. He also had more than a few personal problems with how Thai's show respect. A common problem with expats, the idea that respect is shown to someone regardless of who or what the person has done. If they are an elder or of a higher social ranking then respect is given. This flies in the face of the western concept of respect being something that is earned. Meh... it's a Thai thing and it will piss you off if you spend enough time here... so will their music.

I'm sorry if I just brought everyone down but I just wanted to share this story. I knew Peter casually and would talk with him when I saw him but really that's it. I think it just hits closer to home because of how close this community is. Everyone really does know each other and really shares their concerns and feelings for one another. Obviously I wouldn't be dumb enough to tell family this story during Christmas. That's why I'm telling you this story. Even though a few of you are family and I really consider all of you close enough to be family, I don't want my actual family (Mom, Dad, Aunts, Uncles) knowing about this until I return home. They really don't need to know about all of this.

So yeah. Just another interesting story from the front.

Home Coming

Friday, September 26, 2008

Dad's surgery went well. He was awake and making jokes faster than I or the nurses had expected. I'm still shocked that modern medicine has reached a point that a person can have open heart surgery and be sent home, walking under their own power, the same week. Something just doesn't seem right about that.

Flying back home to Thailand, I find it funny that I catch myself casually calling Thailand home. Weeks before, I would say things like, "I'm going back to America." or "I'm heading back home to America." If I ever mentioned home I would always classify it with America being my destination. I haven't been doing that lately now that I'm heading home...to Thailand.

It was great being back home in the States for what little time I had. I really didn't expect or plan to be back Stateside until I completed my service over here. The first night back home in my old bed was the strangest night of my life. I couldn't sleep knowing that what felt like only a few hours ago, I was thousands of miles away in a remote village living a very different life. Over the next week, I tried to explain things to friends and family but to be honest, they could never understand. This place is just to different to make simple comparisons such as Chillies is like Applebees but with better burgers and TexMex. Yeah. Sure. It's just that simple. A remote Thai village on the Andaman Sea is like rural Indiana except with better rice, fish, and more Asians and less White people. It's complicated.

Korean Air has really good food. This is a reaction to the lack of western food I've consumed over the past several months. Although I consumed all of my favorites while Stateside, the tiny surprises of good food always brings a smile to my face. They do a good steak on Korean Air. Set up with all the fixin's too. It should be noted that I haven't had a steak in about a year so when that point is factored in, this is hands down the best (first) steak I've had since then. The second might place the first in perspective. I hope not though. Good memories of that Korean Air steak.

I've got an increasingly longer and longer 'To Do' list for when I finally settle back home. Need to unpack and clean the house. Do laundry. Need to prepare the end of the year reward market for my students. Should be fun. Definitely need to make sure I have enough toys for everyone and think about appropriate prices for them. Need to kiss Christine too.

Note: For the latter, repeat until dead or until world ends (which ever comes first).

Bingo Night

Thursday, September 25, 2008

From the depths of Valhalla they come. Champions and contenders alike. Warriors upon the field of battle come to face off against each other in this age old contest of skill and determination. Brother against brother, mother against daughter, nation against nation - worlds are torn apart here upon this hallowed ground. And we? We are but guests to them. Strangers in a strange world. We only hope to escape with our lives and our dignity intact tonight. This might just be too much to ask.

....."Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here".....

The door opens and out pours the thickness of the evening which we are about to enter. The smoke of cannon fire can not begin to compare with what we are about to succumb to yet the furry of cannon fire is in fact in close relation. A great battle now rages within these walls and we are but fresh meat, unwittingly being lead to the slaughter.

And with a single breath your senses are numbed to the point where the word 'reality' loses all meaning.

"LUCKY BEARS! I GOT LUCKY BEARS! WHO WANTS LUCKY BEARS? I GOT LUCKY BEARS! LUCKY BEARS!"

Five minutes ago this would have shocked and confused any normal and sane person. Five minutes ago we would have been normal and sane. Five minutes ago we would have had all five senses operating within normal parameters with synapses firing as they should. Five minutes ago I was able to breath.

"You kids look new. Why don't ya'll just follow me over here and I'll just set ya up with Rosie. She'll show you the ropes and'll have ya'll squared away, ok?"

Oh thank you Jesus! Now you're friend Rosie, does she speak English?

"Now, what you're gonna (I16) need are three Double Down 5s! These are gonna last you the whole night unless you wanna enter into (B7!) the Triple High Score Game which starts in 3 minutes. That gets you a two to one chance of winning and entering to play our Full Spread Match at a quarter till 8. Right now we (G35!) have a 6 pack game going on right now. .........."

Ok... so you don't speak English. Is their someone who does speak English that I might be able to talk to? No? Shit.

Well, um... in that case I guess I'll just take...um...one...of each? Yes? Do these come with written instructions on the back? In English?

At this point, or perhaps roughly thirty minutes ago before we attempted to "communicate" with Rosie, or even before that during those first bold steps across the threshold into this canopy of smoke and Marlboro produced smog did the thought cross into all of our minds...

"Who's brilliant idea was it for all of us to go to Bingo tonight?!"

Short answer, it was Claude's, my sister's boyfriend. Long answer, it was all of us. Our unwillingness to stand up in protest to what we all had thought in the back of our minds was a stupid idea had now brought us into a quagmire of a conflict in a far off and distant land which none of us had ever wanted to be in in the first place. Our original destination was to go downtown for a beer and this detour not only delayed our progress toward locating and drinking beer but transferred valuable resources away from our beer drinking efforts which might have been better used else where, say... drinking beer.

But no. We can't leave now. Stay the course.

Together with Claude and my sister, their was my other sister Erin and her husband Todd who were up visiting from Kentucky and of course my Dad and my step-mom Debbie. We were all having trouble with the elements of our new surroundings until who we believed to be our Peruvian guide, Rosie, told us about the non-smoking hall which was adjacent to the larger, more modern, more densely populated smoking hall. Trekking across forgotten goat herder paths which criscrossed the mountains that divided the two grand halls, Rosie guided us upon her mighty donkey, Pedro, until we reached the non-smoking hall.

A culture of it's own, the small community of non-smokers which we discovered revealed themselves to be both friendly and wonderfully hospitable. Upon entering the village, we were greeted as welcomed travelers from a far off and distant land. We introduced ourselves and told of how we came from the outside world. With great excitement they proceeded to examine our fine wears and good luck charms (We learned second hand that it is their costume to have on hand a symbolic charm of sorts for good luck during game play. This turned out to be false information as the village we encountered did not appear to follow this custom.) but quickly lost interest once the next game began. A local community elder (And let me be frank, they were all elders.) was kind enough to translate the instructions which were given to us by our Peruvian guide, Rosie, who by now had already begun the return journey back across the mountain path to the grand smoking hall.

We learned that the game of Bingo is a fast paced game of both skill and chance. Their are many different ways to win depending upon the game being played. It's not just as simple as getting so many in a row and you must always be careful about when you call out bingo. Only during select times following the calling of a number. Such rules and order of game play we're difficult to understand at first but soon made the game that much more challenging and fun.

I can remember as a small child hunting through old copies of National Geographic while attempting to find my dad's Playboy stash and seeing one copy fall upon the floor with it's paged turned open to an article about the traditions and practices of the Midwestern North American Bingo Enthusiast and the 'Daubers' the chose to use. I didn't choose to read the article or pay much attention to the large picture of the dauber in question as I was on quest for boobies at the time but upon entering that hall and seeing those multicolored instruments of marker identification in action, a sweeping feeling of "Oh!!!!!" quickly over took me. At that point I missed two numbers and lost the round. For the remainder of the night I learned never to allow myself to be overtaken by such childish daydreams. That's how games are lost. That's how you lose.

Never once did I see where the numbers were called or drawn from. Still a great mystery that perhaps the people of the non-smoking hall themselves do not know the answer to. Actually, I bet if any of us had asked they probably could have introduced us to the guy. I'm sure their on a first name basis. His name is probably Carl. Or Bob. Probably Bob.

As the night drew to a close and the dwindling number of games which remained began to present the cold dark truth of our reality that winning just isn't for everyone, we slowly came to realize as well that maybe coming to Bingo wasn't such a bad idea. They had food but their wasn't any time to eat it. I think they might have even had beer but that would have dulled the senses and in no way shape or form would any one of us have allowed alcohol to touch our lips or delude our minds. We were green horns going up against pros. We needed every advantage we could get. Luckily over 84% of the people in the room suffered from some form of arthritis or alzheimer's. One would think this would be like playing against gold fish with a soar tail but it wasn't. It wasn't like that at all.

Our night ended and although defeated, we left victorious. Happy in the thought that we had conquered both a long held primordial fear and superstition as well as walking away with the knowledge that we can all add Bingo to our ever growing list of activities to enjoy. And at the very least, we were all pleased that we were able to find our way out without having to employ the help of our Peruvian guide, Rosie. Bless you Rosie, where ever you might be.

FYI

Monday, September 22, 2008

So my Dad will be having heart surgery in the next few days. That's why I'm currently writing from the comfort and warmth of home here in the good ol' U.S. of A. I came back to visit with him for a few days prior to his surgery as well as to be with him a bit during his recovery. I should return home to Thailand in a few days. I normally wouldn't mention, what I consider a private family matter, on the internet but the posts I'm about to make about my experiences here will require the question to be answered as to why am I even back home in the first place. Well, now you know.

As for some of the obvious questions... Yes I have been experiencing a fair amount of reverse culture shock. Americans are big and loud and holy crap are their a lot of white people around here!!

I had a discussion with a German friend of mine just the other day prior to actually making back here to the States regarding American bread. Of course she would have a negative opinion of the bread produced in the lower 48 and I felt obligated to defend the bread which made the sandwich king. At this point, I honestly can't defend any American food without understanding the point of view of my German friend. I have literally been in heaven these past view days... Mexican, Breakfast (Biscuits and Gravy), Fast food (White Castle!!) etc... and my stomach has been suffering. I can feel cancer taking hold in various parts of my body and although this is not a good thing, I will not stop unless my stomach actually explodes within my own body. Should that happen, I'll just find a goat and use his stomach.

This is in fact possible. You learn such things in a Thai village.





Holy Communion

I'M RICK JAMES, .....

Thursday, September 11, 2008

So has I've mentioned previously, it's been raining a lot. That hasn't changed. And as the weather hasn't changed from it's current state of the second Great Flood (two of every animal have slowly been migrating out of my village for the past week) my mind has been wondering more and more, even in class.

To those who don't know of the comedy of Dave Chappelle, then you probably won't find this as funny as it actually is/was.

Yesterday I pulled out my Lil' John voice and began to respond to my students roughly 87% of the time with the words/phrases of "YEAH!", "OKAY!", and "WHAT!?". Needless to say, this both confused and amused my students and co-teacher. After giving them a small project to work on, I finally broke down and started giggling to myself. I finally had to explain what I was doing to my co-teacher which involved having to explain the musical stylings of Lil' John first. She finally understood and then started to laugh as well.

WHAT!?

OKAY!

I don't blog well

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

So... I don't really blog well. This isn't really a surprise to anyone at this point since I think my last post was in June or July and we're now in September. I don't know why I don't blog. Maybe it's because I don't really see that what is happening around me is suitable in terms of story telling. That and I'm long-winded. I know this and Lord knows my friends and family know this. That's why they're my friends and as for family...well, you're just stuck with me I guess.

A personal note to my mom. Aren't you proud of me?! 'They're' and 'you're'... I know... I'm proud of me too! (To everyone else... I believe the English language is stupid and that there is no need for 3 separate spellings of the same word. The same goes for 'your'. My mom has been trying to 're-educate' me for several years now with only minor success. I remain resistant. Call me foolish but I don't expect you to understand my own personal struggle against the English language. If necessary, I will rise up in arms against the English language itself and lead an army of immigrants with thick accents to forcibly remove the extra spellings of such words from dictionaries the world over. This will be our revolution! You're welcome to join us if you like.

As for Thailand... I'm not going to mention the current political situation right now. I'm feeling to light hearted at the moment to be brought back down to earth by the complexities of the internal political climate of a Southeast Asian nation. Not gonna do it! Instead I'm going to talk about rain. Deal with it.

Previous volunteers from the south had warned the volunteers of my group (Group 120) including myself of the extended rainy season which occurs in the south. The south typically sees eight (8!) months of rain per year starting sometime around May and going for roughly 8 months. (You do the math.) When I first arrived, it would rain for about a half hour every afternoon and by looking out my front door towards the mountains in the east around noon, you could tell if it would rain around 1pm or around 3pm. You are your own weatherman and just as accurate if not more.

Slowly, the half hour rain showers turned into hour and then two hour rain showers. I figured this was only the beginning of the rainy season. But then things just got weird or I guess things got weird. I really don't have a frame of reference since this is all new. I'll be checking in on this account next year to see if things are the same. Days would go by without rain followed by entire days of nothing but. Then more and more extended periods without rain. Is it possible for a jungle to be in a drought? I talked to one of my co-teachers about this joking that I thought this was the rainy season. (This was around late July and we hadn't had rain for a good three weeks and what rain we did get didn't last longer than 15 minutes.) My co-teacher laughed but didn't really give an answer but did mention something about a day in mid-May or June which helps predict the rainy season. If it rains on this day then it will be a normal rainy season. If not then it will be a shorter rainy season. Apparently the groundhog didn't (or did...I forget the whole groundhog thing) see his shadow and so we're due to have a shorter rainy season this year. The next day we had a huge rain storm which lasted for 3 days. Rainy season...

Now we're currently in the middle of another major storm system. It's been raining for roughly a week now with no sign of stopping. A volunteer from Group 118 told me that "You will get wet. Accept it." I didn't really believe her until this point because the rain hadn't really been that bad until this point. Now I wear shorts or something else casual to work and change my cloths once I arrive. I'm looking into investing in a larger rain parka as the one I currently have is not made for a Southeast Asian rainy season.

So yeah... Rain... I've begun singing that "Rain, rain, go away" song a lot but I've changed the lyrics at the end to make them my own and now I can't remember what the real lyrics are. I could google them but that wouldn't be very fun. If someone could post them then that would be great.

"My Rain Song" (I think I learned these lyrics in school but I can't be too sure...)
Rain, rain, go away
Come again another day
I went to bed
With a gun to my head
And I didn't up the next morning

I giggle a lot when I sing it because no one around me understands English. I can sing this here. You can't sing this where you are because people will look at you funny.

Fortunate Son Guitar Intro...

Thursday, August 14, 2008

I just realized something the other day. While reading "AK47: the Story of the People's Gun" by Michael Hodges (not that good and in desperate need of an editor who speaks English) I came to realize something. The Vietnam War was fought in the jungle. I know, right!

Don't get me wrong. I knew that the Vietnam War was fought in the Jungles of Southeast Asia long before picking up the book and even before Pvt. Gump went back for Lt. Dan. What caught me off guard was when I put the book down after reading an interesting passage and then staring off into space from the bus which was taking me Nakhon Si to Surat Thani. It then it me like a ton of bricks.

I live in the middle of the freakin' jungle! I then put on my iPod and began to listen to some CCR, proud of the knowledge that was just gleaned from this book.

Paranoid, I turned the music off after about 30 seconds and went back to reading.

I live in the middle of the jungle.

Being Thainapped...

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Being kidnapped is something you can't possibly hope to avoid in this land. The sun rises, breakfast is made, and then you're kidnapped. Not in any sort of mean spirited sense of the word. It's actually difficult to phrase such an action as a kidnapping as you are often a willing participant in this bizarre trek across half of Southeast Asia. But of course you can't say no to such a request because such an a front would appear as being mildly offensive. They are after all offering to take you to some distant place which you have never been before. A free meal might be involved. Perhaps some tea? Never dare ask where you are going! You were already told about this yesterday. But no memory of such an event can be brought forward and as such, you are left confused yet calm. Nothing can possibly go wrong? "Get in..."

Ban Triam School has lost a total of three teachers over the past few months and now they will soon lose more. A goodbye party was held at a wonderful little restaurant just outside of town for two more teachers who have by now already departed us. A full spread of traditional Thai dishes were offered including the staple, rice. My co-teacher and I arrived on time which translates to being roughly thirty minutes early to find our Pa-ah (principle) already sitting at the head of the table. A conductor surveying a mighty orchestra which had yet to show up for the grand show. Yet still proud he stands at his post, prepared to lead sweeping movements and first chairs who would inevitably be lost without him.

We sat down and began to talk about the Euro Cup tournament taking place on the other side of the world. Christino Ronaldo is the next big thing right now and so all of Thailand loves both Manchester United as well as the Portuguese national team. Sunshine fans in the Land of Smiles. It only makes sense considering the miles of beaches available for tanning. This is false hope though. Any true fan of the sport could clearly see that while Ronaldo is quiet possibly one of the finest players on the planet right now, the Portuguese national team is nothing without him. I knew this but did they? Did my Pa-ah?

Shortly there after the rest of the faulty from our school arrived including the two guests of honor. Two teachers would be leaving our school the very next day and while this was a time to celebrate, I had no idea which of the 13 or 14 teachers they were. I leaned over and asked my co-teacher Moosa to solve this riddle for me, QUIETLY!!!. Not being a subtle man, he surprised me by describing the two teachers in a very discrete manor by the way they were dressed. "Sea sit necks to you. Ok? You know hu? And sea weas black. The othe teacha." Ah yes. I knew them well. Well, I knew them well enough in the sense that I knew their faces and could point them out in a police line up if requested. "It was them officer! They shot Kennedy!" I didn't know their names though. One teacher could very easily win the village beauty contest so long as she kept her mouth shut. The second she flashed a smile at the judges though the whole ship was sunk. A quick glimpse would reveal a smile containing multiple rows of teeth. Like a shark. But her personality didn't match. She was shy and quiet nearly all of the time and a simple hello was the whole of our friendship. She was a mute shark.

The second teacher - the one sitting next to me - was a racist caricature of every Asian one could imagine from 1945 America. Propaganda posters of Emperor Tojo couldn't do her justice since if my memory services me right, Emperor Tojo was bald and this young woman had long black hair. I highly doubt they're related but I suppose the possibility does exist and if so, well - I guess that makes for an interesting story then. Someone should illustrate it. Or perhaps just paint her portrait.

As it turned out, my Pa-ah didn't know what I knew about the Portuguese National team. They were due to play the Germans that night and he was so confident about their impending victory as well as their fate as Euro Cup 2008 Champions that he placed 100 baht on the table. This got the attention of the faulty and I suppose that I should have said no but I couldn't turn down a sure thing. So I placed my last 100 baht bill down on the table and the bet was made. Germany won that night 3-2 and feeling guilty over my new found wealth, I gave the money to Moosa for gas.

Following dinner, speeches were made and honors were given. It's very difficult to appear to give a rats ass when a long winded speaker is slowly melting the polar ice caps by filling the surrounding area with oh so much hot air - but this is made even more difficult when one can not understand a single word that is being spoken. Frank Black lyrics were spinning in my mind as my Pa-ah's words literally would have made for the perfect white noise maker. He was turned up to eleven.


Eventually I was asked to give a speech after the rest of the faulty gave short speeches. I pride myself on my bullshit abilities but I wondered if such skills would transfer in a foreign land. Their are of course different topics and subjects which are traditionally touched upon and avoided during such speeches and it would be important for me to know the difference. Another challenge...I don't really speak Thai. So I stumbled through what little I knew speaking about the importance of family and how I thought the school was my family. I told the two teachers about how said I was that they were leaving and how I felt that part of my family was leaving. I told them how sad I was about this but how it gave me hope that if they could make such friends in this community that they could do anything and become very successful in their new communities. Chok-dee (Best wishes/Good luck). At no point did I address them individually or mention their names. It would have been rude, I thought to mention how sad I was that Mute Shark and Lady Tojo were leaving the school. Poor taste indeed.


The evening ended and I was released from my captivity. This release is only temporary as I expect to be kidnapped at any time and at any place in the near future. It is best to keep a over night bag packed and ready. The house should be prepared to be abandoned and all things should be in order for a quick evacuation. This is standard in Thailand. This is standard for those who know they are about to be kidnapped. No guns... just a friendly smile and a meal (more than likely). Laundry will have to wait for tomorrow...unless you're kidnapped again...and again...and again...and again.

Been Busy...

Monday, June 9, 2008


I can remember seeing images of forest fires being broadcast from California for as long as I can remember. The red glow filling the living room like some back ally in Amsterdam now reflecting off of my face nearly every evening. There must be a forest fire nearby. This seems unlikely as everything is too wet...to humid for a small brush fire to run like the devil across the open jungles of southern Thailand. But then again Florida is on fire, or at least it was the last time I heard anything about it. Maybe a hurricane fixed that problem. I suppose anything is possible. This is Thailand after all and anything really is possible. I doubt the far side of the mountain which looks after my village is on fire. Someone would have said something. Instead I am left with the mirroring image of the sunset bouncing its way off of the ocean, mountains, and clouds as it slowly fades away from me and only begins to rise for you. Somewhere in that moment the nights sky begins to fade away leaving everything red. It gives an odd color to the jungle around me.

I wonder if their is a slight moment between when the sun sets just beyond the reach of the ocean and when it begins to rise just above the tree line in the east on the other side of the world. Is it instant or is their a moment of darkness? Is the earth that big?

Not too long ago an e-mail floated around the Internet. Something about how we don't really read or pronounce words anymore but instead only see the first and last letters of a word and make an assumption of what we believe the word to be. I culod plobraby wtire sehntiomg hbrorile aobut yuor mtoehr and I can olny ausmse taht you can alaltcuy raed tihs buaesce of
sehntiomg I raed on the ineertnt. Thai children face this same problem in a slightly different way. Except the ability to pronounce such words eludes them.

Following the compulsory greeting given by the students which is return by myself... parrots speaking to each other... it can be fun to throw the occasion wrench in the works... roughly 28 or so 4th graders sit down and prepare to learn something from the pale skinned foreigner. At the very least he looks funny. This should be interesting for a least an hour. Time to warm up with some basics in pronunciation.

"Are you ready?" although asked rhetorically it is still given with a bit of casual enthusiasm.
"Yes!" a little loud. They could do better.
"Are you ready?!"
"YES!!!"


Repeat as needed in various forms including deep monster style voice and high pitched girlie-man voice. Make sure to include hand gestures and various postures as well.

Three letter nonsense words work best and by breaking them up into the individual letters, they can slowly begin to understand the pronunciation behind each letter and how such combinations of letters can form different pronunciations.


B - A - T
BA - T
BAT

Half the time the words don't even make sense and the other 2/3ths of the time the kids don't even know what the word actually means. That doesn't really mater. The definition doesn't really mater. A bat could be a small piece of fabric found only in Japanese shopping centers. Who cares. They just sounded the word out on their own which is what is really important. Figuring out how to work a dictionary... similar to operating a 1995 Dodge Neon... will have to wait until next week. Or next month. One step at a time. Tiny steps. Very tiny steps. Seriously, don't walk so fast.

Last week I was teaching students in six separate classrooms at two schools while my weekend was spent about two hours south of here in Khao Lak. This morning was greeted by a site evaluation while tomorrow will be another full day of teaching including English club before journeying to Bangkok for further training which will take place in Kon Kaen. Or maybe Kon Kean. Or is it Khon Kaen? Perhaps I'll just say I have a week ahead of me full of further Peace Corps training about 14 hours away from me by bus. A very long journey ahead which I'm not looking forward to although some more time away from site sounds wonderful at the moment. Although I will miss my students every moment I am away from them, I can't help but look forward to the chance to be with fellow volunteers again. We'll be making fart jokes.


P.S. This is a Tokay. Common in Thailand, they can average about 12 to 14 inches in length and primarily eat smaller geckos and larger insects. This guy, whose name is Mr. Tokay, casually lives in my house like an indoor/outdoor cat. He comes and goes as he wishes. We have an agreement. He doesn't hangout in my room and I don't kill him.










Random Thoughts...part II

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

These are some thoughts and inner reflections on the first few months of Peace Corps service here in Thailand. Many of these come from Dale Yurovich, a fellow volunteer while others have been inspired by other volunteers and their own input. Hope you enjoy.

1) You can shower with many different creatures, including frogs, toads, large spiders, thousands of ants, geckos, and ..............

1A) You can get use to or adapt to many things but thus far I have yet to get use to a cold shower early in the morning.

2) Thai's eat more fried foods than any American I know and yet they still maintain that girlish figure. I have yet to discover how this is possible but if I were to eat like this in the States then I would have had my second heart attack last week. Please send all get well cards to my family.

2A) I have never had better fried chicken in all my life and mixing the fried bits with rice is a new favorite treat.

3) Their are more pick-up trucks in Thailand than at any county fair.

4) I can now cook using a wok.

4A) I've now learned two new ways to cook eggs. The incredible, edible, egg is freaking right!

5) All Thai's are deaf forcing them to play and listen to music at volumes which allows the next village over to hear. This holds true for television as well. My neighbor's daughter was watching an early morning children's program today at 6:45am. I know this because I heard it as if it was in side my skull...

6) A polite greeting for a Thai adult is known as a 'Wai'. Hands clasped together at chest level, bow the head, and say Saa-wa-dee-krap/ka. A polite greeting for Thai children is to smack each other on the side of the head as hard as you can. The shoulder is also acceptable although not as painful and thus not as respectable. A good swift kick is also acceptable.

7) I don't use toilet paper anymore and I kind of like it. Seriously think about what you do for a moment. You wipe your own ass with your hand protected only by the thinnest piece of paper you can find. I'm going to have problems shaking people's hands when I get back to the States.

8) If you ever have to wonder how long you should let water boil before it is safe to drink then you should just let it boil some more.

8A) Nope. Still not safe. Let it boil some more.

9) Pooping something solid is a cause for celebration.

10) There are people who have never seen snow.

11) There are people who will never see snow.

12) There are people who have never seen pictures of snow.

13) It is accepted that one should remove his/her shoes before entering any public building or private residence. This isn't really a problem since most people wear sandals.

13A) It's nice to be able to wear sandals to work on a daily basis. Especially when you have to leave them at the door and walk around for most of the day bare foot. I highly recommend it.

14) With regard to food, everything has bones in it. Eat slowly so as to better enable you to pick those bones out.

15) A lot of weird things make a lot of weird sounds at a lot of weird times.

That's all for now. I'm tired and am going to bed.

Week 1 - "I'm not dead yet!"

Thursday, May 22, 2008

So today concludes my first official week of school. I still have some things to work out in terms of scheduling and I didn't actually attend a full weeks worth of school but with how the Thai school system operates, I would actually call this more official than if I had been at school for all four days.

Let's start from the beginning. My original schedule was as follows. Mondays I would be teaching Pratom 4 (4th Grade) from 9:30 - 11:30 and Pratom 5 from 1:30 - 2:30. Tuesdays I would be teaching Pratom 4 from 10:30 - 11:30 and Pratom 5 from 12:30 - 2:30. These classes would be taking place at Ban Triam school with my co-teacher, Moosa. While I know you can all do math, I'll make it easy for you all and just mention that my sum total of teaching at Ban Triam school will be (at this point) 6 hours per week. On Wednesdays and Thursdays I was originally scheduled to teach Pratom 4 from 9:30 - 10:30 and Pratom 5 from 12:30 - 1:30 at Ban Bang Wa school with my co-teacher, Meena. This would give me a total of 10 hours teaching per week.

After running over the numbers again and again in my head, this just didn't seem right to me. Although I might have fought it throughout my life, my Dad and his peers did raise me with a certain work ethic that just didn't make a 10 hour work week seem worth while. I haven't been able to adjust my hours yet with Moosa but I was able to change my hours with Meena yesterday and as a result I am up from working 4 hours at Ban Bang Wa school to working 7 as this was the best that could be done with both of our schedules. I will now be teaching Pratom 6 from 10:30 - 11:30 on Wednesdays as well as two seperate hours of Pratom 3 on Thursdays from 10:30 - 11:30 and from 1:30 - 2:30 (same class). I hope to be able to add more classes at Ban Triam next week as well.

So according to the schedule above, my week should have begun on Monday... but it didn't. Monday was a holiday and school was closed. Wan Visakha Bucha. A Buddhist holiday which I forgot about and no one mentioned to me the week prior. So I was up early and at school on time all alone without any students to teach. In case you were wondering, Wan Visakha Bucha celebrates or remembers the birth, enlightenment, and death of the Buddha. Opps! Forgot. My bad. It's ok. I sent a card. (Was that last comment in bad taste? I think so too.) So actually my work week began on Tuesday at Ban Triam school. No worries. It's not like anything bad could happen by skipping Monday right?

So within the first 10 minutes of my first class this kid breaks his arm. Dumb-ass. I haven't found out yet if it's his arm or wrist but it's broke alright. Sorry if my dumb-ass comment might sound a bit cold hearted but he literally was acting like a dumb-ass. If he was acting like an apple when he broke his arm then I would have called him an apple but he wasn't. He was being a dumb-ass playing around on top of his desk, he fell, and he broke his arm. We sent him to the hospital and I haven't seen him sent. With any luck he is doing ok but I promise you he won't be doing that again.

An interesting thing about the Thai educational system and the methods of parenting. The above comment about how he won't be playing around on top of his desk again... that is how Thai's teach their children. Many Thai children have scars. I have a small scar on my knee from stitches and another on my lip from the same reason. But these scares are small and hardly noticeable now. Almost everyone in Thailand has very large and noticeable scars. I saw one boy today who had a very large scar on the inside of his leg just above his knee. About four inches long. I can't imagine what might have caused such a huge gash but I'm sure a lesson was learned from it. It the States, children are taught not to touch a pan that is sitting on the stove or to touch a stove that is on or something along those lines. If you touch it then you will get burned and it will hurt and it might even leave a scare. In Thailand, they just let the child touch it. The child screams, will cry, and it isn't until a few moments have passed that any attention is paid to the child. Children learn from experience in Thailand and as a result, children are much better able to take care of themselves and each other in many different situations. A major downside are all of the scars.

At Ban Bang Wa school I spent my days in much the same way that I spent my day at Ban Triam. I observed my co-teacher Meena in order to gain a better understanding of her teaching style as well as to evaluate the English level of the various students I would be teaching in the coming weeks, months, and years. I will admit that a few students have impressed me but they are rare among the majority who merely memorize the words which are presented to them and just repeat the sound without fully understanding their meanings.

So that was my week. I've already established an English Club at Ban Triam and I hope to do the same at Ban Bang Wa. I'll be taking pictures all next week and will be posting them ASAP. I'll just let the pictures speak for themselves with a few captions to go along with them. I think from the look of this entry and the rest that I'm starting to get a little word heavy. Maybe I should lighten up...? Probably.

love Chris

Skoole Daz

Sunday, May 18, 2008

You are reading my blog... hehe.......

So I promised to write about my first day of school during one of my previous blogs and as promised, this will be the topic of this blog. I shall not let you down. It was a very interesting day and I’m sorry to say that I did not have my camera on hand otherwise I would be posting pictures of that day along with this blog. I promise to bring my camera to school next week.

I arrived at Bang Wa School early around 8am and was met by my co-teacher Meena along with some of the other faculty. Meena is young, roughly my age, and has only been teaching for a year and a half. We had only met a few times prior to the first day of school but from these meetings I could tell that she was very excited to be working with a ‘farang’ English teacher though she still appears to be very shy. An example of this is the fact that her English is far better than what she lets on.

While the students ran around the school cleaning and preparing for school to begin that morning and for that year, I was in the office helping Meena and another teacher organize all of the books for the school that were to be passed out in just a little while. The school received new books this year and they were only now opening the boxes, which they had arrived in. Lucky for them that when they opened the boxes they were all new school books for a Thai elementary school and not motorcycle repair manuals written in Russian. This is Thailand after all… stranger things could and have happened.

Before we distributed the books to all of the students, all of the students were to line up on the basketball court in front of the flagpole for morning role call. Remember how when you were younger (at least some of you) you would have to stand up with the rest of your class and say the Pledge of Allegiance every morning? This is nearly the same thing but instead of doing this in the classrooms, the entire school comes out and organizes themselves by grade and prepares to do something similar. Some schools have their own band, which plays the Kings anthem while others just play a recording over the PA. After this and sometimes before this, the principle or a leading faculty member will often give a speech of some kind. Not really a “Win one for the Gipper” kind of speech but also not really just a regular morning announcements kind of speech either. It was after this speech that I walked up and introduced myself to the students. I told them my name and where I was from and asked if anyone spoke English. When everyone suddenly had a scared look on their face, I said it was ok because what I was saying is all the Thai that I know. I then told them that if they teach me Thai then I would help them learn English and they cheered. After my brief speech, I asked Meena if anything I said in Thai made sense or if the students were trained to cheer when a teacher is finished speaking. She said both.

Afterwards, Meena and I worked out a schedule of when I would actually be teaching at Bang Wa school. It was understood that I would be teaching on Wednesdays and Thursdays but the times were unknown at this point. After figuring out the schedule for the school, we figured out that it would be best for us to teach at 9:30 and then again at 12:30 for one hour each. This schedule was to begin that day but on both occasions I looked down at my watch to realize that it was 10 and 1 respectfully. We arrived a half-hour late to both classes but it was Meena who said, “Ok, I think it’s time to go now,” on both occasions. Peace Corps warned us that Thai teachers have a different dedication to their classrooms than American or even Western teachers do. If someone calls in the middle of a class, they will answer and go outside to talk on the phone. Sometimes they will leave class to go “mail” something at the post office or perhaps even go to the market to buy something leaving the class unattended during that time period. I have not witnessed much of this to any full degree but many other volunteers have and have expressed how frustrating it is.

I teach Pratom 4 (4th Grade) and Pratom 5 (5th Grade) at Bang Wa school which will be the same grades I will be teaching on Mondays and Tuesdays at my other school, Ban Triam. There are 10 5th graders and 15 4th graders at Bang Wa school, which will make some activities very easy to conduct and execute. During my first day I further introduced myself to the class and Meena and I attempted to review some of the material that they had learned the previous year in order to gain a barring on where to begin this year. To be honest, this was just filler which would be followed by a quick game. It has been proven time and time again that typically Thai students learn vocabulary words but never fully understand the meaning or how to use such words in a sentence nor do they ever fully understand the sentences which the learn in class. Rather they just memorize them, which is just enough to make their teachers happy.

So we reviewed what kind of animals they know and then played a short game using that knowledge having the boys of each class play the girls of each class. In case anyone was interested, The boys just barely beat the girls in Pratom 4 but the girls carried the day in Pratom 5. After finishing up class I met up with Meena and we attempted to lesson plan for the rest of the term. Just a general outline of the subjects that she would like to cover and what materials I can bring to the table. This meeting didn’t last as long as I had expected as Meena is planning on teaching straight from the book. I showed her an example of a sample lesson plan I had made using various Peace Corps materials and I think it intimidated her a little bit. I don’t think she has ever prepared something so extensive or thorough before. But at the same time I hope that she came away from the meeting feeling that I will be a big help to her and that we can learn a lot from each other.

So that was my first day at school or at least at Bang Wa school. Tomorrow I will be starting school at Ban Triam school with my other co-teacher Moosa. Tomorrow should be equally interesting and fulfilling.

That’s all for now.

Chris

Current Music: Jimmy Buffet – License to Chill
Current Weather – Partly Cloudy (Second day in a row of kinda sunny)
Current Thought – I have 30 minutes to prepare for a wedding and I’m hungry…

 
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