Down With School

This week has been a unique one, but (for once) not because of any wild adventures. This weekend was the first Saturday that I spent at home, since my school was hosting a school fair. Our coordinators requested a repeat performance of the highly esteemed “traditional” line dance, “Cotton Eyed Joe,” and this time one of our students did a little solo.

(photo by Timothy McLaughlin)

Once again, we were asked to stand behind a booth and be the token farangs when the dean of the school walked by. I have begun to realize that that part of the reason our school brought us here is as western trophies; our coordinator has already admitted that she hired us because we were young, beautiful American women. Our school is very concerned about exuding an air of prestige, and having young Western teachers is a status symbol for Thai schools. Most of the time, the manner in which they put us on display is absurd but amusing. Earlier this week were asked to record a video for a karaoke version of school anthem (even though we butchered it because we can’t speak Thai), several weeks ago we were asked to help host a World Quiz competition even though the teachers hosting it didn’t need our help (the school wanted us to sit there and look nice for the pictures), and they always send us on school field trips even though we can never help with the planning or discipline (they want other schools to note the farang teachers our school has). I definitely don’t mind when they show us off, as long as I can still get my job done, but I’m starting to experience a disparity between appearance and substance that occasionally turns from amusing to annoying.

The school fair this weekend was a perfect example of my façade vs. fact concern. The kids, teachers, and coordinators have been frantically preparing for this festival for weeks, and almost all else was sacrificed in its name. Tons of my English classes were cancelled for “dance practice” or “fair decorating,” often without any warning to me (I can’t count how many times this week I walked into an empty classroom).

Why was this festival so much more important than class? Because the wealthy parents of our students would be there. It was more important for the school to seem put together through tight-nit dance routines and impeccable school ceremonies, than for the students to actually be in class during the week. I’m not saying it wasn’t worth the effort; The parents were proudly snapping hundreds of pictures on their digital SLRs, and the children looked painfully adorable in their Thai garb, sparkly dresses and princess up-dos hairsprayed to perfection. But this is a school, shouldn’t academia come first?

Sometimes I feel like my legs are cut out from under me as a teacher because of my inability to discipline, let alone see my children on a regular basis. My school name is fairly renowned, and we are a language academy, but a fair percentage of my students have little to no grasp of English. When I first arrived here it perplexed me, considering my school’s funding and status, but I’ve begun to realize that all the resources in the world don’t necessarily make a fine school. I really don’t want to be any harsher on my school than I need to, I wouldn’t work here for another semester if I felt like I was wasting my time, but it’s definitely something that needs to be addressed on a larger scale.

On Friday we had a reunion dinner in Bangkok hosted by my teaching program, and we discussed how to discipline students when there is no substance behind our requests. My main example: I cannot fail my students. If they don’t pass a test, I need to re-test them. If they don’t show up for the re-test… well, I need to return to rule number 1: I cannot fail my students. It goes against every grain in my body to pass students who didn’t earn it it, especially after I gave up my lunch period waiting for 18 different students to never show up for a re-test. Cheating is also acceptable here. Kids cheat all the time, on everything, and teachers always look the other way. As long as they pass, their parents are happy, and the school is happy.

I don’t blame the students. Any normal teenager would slack off if they knew it was impossible to fail. I know I’m betraying young people around the world when I say things like this, but students need some sort of discipline and boundaries. If they can slip by, they will. It’s just the nature of being a kid. The responsibility for the mixed messages kids receive lies in the system, which doesn’t inspire personal motivation. I truly believe all of my coordinators care about the students and want the best for our school, but they are stuck in this appearances over reality mentality that I acknowledge is partially cultural, but really damages things internally.

That being said, I don’t claim to have all the solutions. I also don’t want to dwell on cynicism; I still think I’m making a difference simply by being here, speaking English to my students, repeating things so many times that something is bound to stick. And all this being said, I had a damn fine weekend. I caught up on a lot of sleep, and really assessed where I am at this point in Thailand. The things I’m finding significant here are completely unexpected. Ain’t that the greatest?

Something About Samet

So for the long weekend (thank you, Constitution day) I finally experienced the white sand beaches associated with the vacation-destination side of Thailand. Ko Samet (some people say “Ko Samed,” I say Thai names simply don’t translate well into English) pretty much embodied island living; plenty shacks and bars on the beach, locals on motorbikes with shaggy hair, and just enough tourists to maintain a resort-y feel but not feel too congested.



We stayed in Saikaew Villa, on what was by far the busiest beach yet felt deserted compared to other popular tropical destinations. The villa where we stayed made its own yogurt, which I have admittedly become addicted to in this country (again, without cheese, I take what I can get). Beach vendors walked down the hot beach selling fruit and sarongs, and they were all covered from head to toe—this was, of course, to avoid becoming too dark therefore unattractive according to Thai standards. Kind of funny, considering that most of the tourists were there to get a decent tan.

Further down the coast, the beach was emptier. There was a nice cove with a raft floating off the shore and an impromptu soccer game with both tourists and locals participating. At night, the trusty Thai obsession with all things ablaze kicked in, and the beach was lit up with multi-colored lights and fire spinners. It was relaxing to finally have a weekend where we weren’t waking up early to fulfill some sight-seeing plan. My “planning” in Ko Samet usually consisted of “maybe I’ll move down the beach at some point” or “perhaps I should shower today.”


On Saturday I finally found an exception to my ability to eat anything, when something (god knows what) caused me to empty my stomach in the middle of the night. I haven’t been sick since arriving, but feeling nausea and stomach pains in the heat of Thailand was different than any illness I’ve ever experienced. I blame food poisoning, but I can’t really be sure. All I know is that I was really thankful I had good friends and people who cared around, because otherwise Saturday night might have devolved into an evening of “why the hell am I here in this hot country that makes me sick where bugs keep biting me etc. etc.” I haven’t felt very pessimistic about Thailand yet, but it’s easy to deteriorate into negativity when you feel like crap.

I’m back to the school grind today, again satisfied with the weekend in spite of my smaller stomach. Since last week we attended a field trip followed by a long break, I already feel like I’ve forgotten how to teach. Some of the older students are finally more relaxed around me, and I feel like kind of a jerk for knowing so few of their names. It’s really difficult for me to retain such unfamiliar sounds, not to mention that I teach about 20 different classes and many Thai people have insanely long names. I’m also trying to get used to the word “porn” in student’s names—Nattaporn, Pornmanus, Tanaporn—in Thailand, “porn” means beautiful… yeah, close enough.

I’m trying to develop a new strategy for my problem classes. I teach a class in prathom six (grade 6) that my fellow teachers coined the “crack children” because the students literally crawl up the walls, run around the classroom, and shout at the top of their lungs for the entire period. I’ve been forced to walk out of class once because I was literally losing my voice and nothing would control them with the exception of a large net and some tranquilizer darts.

I’m learning better ways to get through to them, but in some cases it’s not possible. Some children have slid through their academic career copying off their friends and hiding in the back of class, so they literally don’t know English; at this point, I can’t communicate with them unless they come to me directly. There are others, however, who are good at English, want to be, or just need a little push in order to bring forth their abilities. Sometimes I forget that these kids are all covering complex subjects like calculus because their English is still at an elementary level. It takes a one-on-one conversation for me to remember how intelligent they are, and that what’s inhibiting them is language, not a lack of aptitude. And that’s why I’m here.

Scuba Diving, Part Neung

You are now reading the words of a certified open water scuba diver. Yeah, staaaand back.


This weekend was my first scuba dive (actually, dives) and I’m pretty much hooked. Our launching point was Pattaya, also known as Sin City. It certainly lived up to its name, but I went there knowing what to expect so I never experienced that initial feeling of aversion many people have described. And considering that I’m a difficult person to offend, I actually found couple aspects of Pattaya I enjoyed. It featured the neon lights and sleaze of a city like Vegas, but still maintained the gritty, outdoor authenticity of a Thai metropolis that I can never quite articulate but I always find comforting in its candidness. And Pattaya certainly is candid; the city wears sex and gambling on its sleeve, and people traveling there know exactly what they’ll find. Most importantly for me, Pattaya had a beach and a boat waiting to take me out in the morning for my first dive.

I was still adjusting to my heavy equipment during the pool dive last week, but during the open water dives this weekend it didn’t seem quite as clunky. Granted, wearing scuba equipment on land will never be graceful; the heavy tank pulls me backwards, my face is smothered by a mask and regulator, and I’m forced to waddle thanks to the awkwardly large flippers. But the moment I descend underwater, I feel pretty much weightless, and the gear becomes an afterthought. Granted, I still need to work on my buoyancy, my kicking, and my general fluidity, but being in water has always felt natural to me, and breathing underwater almost felt like the next logical step.

My first dive was an hour and a half off the coast, at a small island called Ko Wichaia. Visibility was poor in diving standards, but the moment I caught my first glimpse of coral and schools of fish, I felt like I’d entered a different world. I’ve spent my life in the ocean, and I’ve snorkeled before, but somehow with scuba I felt like I was floating through a foreign space. The complete silence of the ocean, the calm of my instructor, and the smooth movements of everything through water seemed to make time become fluid as well. After surfacing Steve asked how long we thought we’d been underwater—Ross guessed 15 minutes, I guessed only about 10. It turns out we were under for 36 minutes, but the experience felt so concentrated our perception was completely distorted. I can’t remember the last time my estimate of time was so warped by an intense experience.


Steve spent each dive practicing skills we’d learned in the pool, but allowed for a little time to look around. The low visibility definitely forced everyone to be acutely aware of where others were at all times, and I think it will benefit me to have that experience under my belt. In between dives we ate lunch on the boat and enjoyed the salty breeze of the ocean as we swayed next to an island. I can see how this becomes a lifestyle for some people.


On Sunday we dove by an island called Ko Rin, and a tiny offshoot island called North Rock. Visibility had improved that day, and the water was warm and blue. The coral was a little more diverse, and I felt even more comfortable with a smaller BCD and a better balance of weights. I passed my final review test with flying colors, and left the boat with my open water diving certification.


The whole weekend left me feeling generally satisfied and eager for what’s next. Learning through my cousin Steve was probably the best situation I could have hoped for; I was working with someone familiar, so I felt comfortable the entire time. He’s already offered to take me on a dive in Phuket during winter break, which will be much clearer water and more interesting marine life.

So I’m adding scuba diving to the list of things I probably wouldn’t have gotten around to in the States. I can't believe the amount of things I've done in less than two months. Thailand is starting to feel like an energy drink that never runs out of steam, and I've decided to be careful not to burn myself out (I’m amazed it hasn’t happened yet). I’m leaving tomorrow for a long weekend trip to Ko Samet, an island not too far off the coast, and I plan to do nothing but melt into white sand with a Singha beer in one hand and a book in the other.

Photos of Ayutthaya

Today our school took us on a field trip to Ayutthaya, the longest capital of Thailand (although at the time it was technically a Siamese kingdom). The kingdom existed from 1351 to 1767 until it was invaded by the Burmese. In fact, most of Ayutthaya's history seems to relate to staving off Burma's attacks. We saw a lot of temples, ruins and monks, including the female version of a monk, who is technically called a Buddhist nun (she was an American, originally from New Jersey).

Due to my time constraints, this is going to be a picture post. Enjoy!

Sea Monkeys

So this weekend’s animal related adventure (because every escapade here seems to be involve some sort of animal) was the Lopburi Monkey Festival.


I didn’t arrive in Lopburi until around 9pm on Saturday night, because I spent most of the morning at the bottom of a pool in Bangkok. By this I mean I completed my scuba pool session with my cousin/instructor extraordinaire, Steve.

The night before I tried my first Mos Burger, part of a Japanese burger chain that’s apparently been sweeping Asia. The Spicy Mos Cheeseburger wasn’t too shabby, but it definitely wasn’t spicy. To be fair, my definition of spicy has been seriously altered since I arrived in Thailand. I'm going to try to work my way through the Mos Burger menu, maybe I'll have tried them all before I leave Asia.


So Friday night I crashed at Steve and Anastasia’s lovely pad (for as long as I live, I doubt I’ll ever bathe in such a spacious shower), then I completed my pool session the next day. Firstly, I’ll say what I’m sure every diver says for the first time: there’s no sensation quite like breathing underwater. It’s something I always dreamed about doing (literally), and although I was covered in gear and strapped to a big tank, sitting at the bottom of the pool and realizing I could remain there was pretty surreal. I’m excited for my first open water dive next weekend, even though it’s going to be in Pattaya, which according to every account I’ve come across, houses the scum of the country. I’m honestly kind of interested in seeing it now, after hearing such widespread vilification and disgust.

Lopburi definitely didn’t end up being my favorite town, but I was happy to see some people from my program. It’s a huge relief to speak with people who understand exactly what I’m saying without having to resort to hand gestures or repeating myself slowly as if speaking to a five year old. The language barrier hasn’t gotten to me too much, but it can seriously perpetuate small problems, particularly in Thailand where people will pretend that they understand you so they don’t lose face. That particular Thai habit is what leaves me stranded on the wrong side of town, writing an exam six times over, or sitting in my room with no electricity.

In my time here I’ve met very nice Thai people, who smile at me, offer me free food, or stand in front of me on the bus to block my eyes from the sun. I’ve also met people with generally bad intentions, who see a farang as a separate class of person, who is inevitably wealthy and deserves to be swindled. I don’t know how else a culture that believes in karma could downright steal from people without restraint. There was unfortunately a lot of that this weekend, and even though my stuff went unscathed, I was disheartened (and for the first time in Thailand, angered) by the disinterest of the hotel staff when it came to retrieving missing goods.

The Monkey Festival itself was also pretty unclimactic; I was more thrown off by the monkeys climbing on cars and drinking sodas in the street than the ones crawling up the walls of the temple where the food offering actually occurred. I was curious about the ruins the monkeys were lounging on, there were a lot of relics from an old city scattered throughout Lopburi, and I wanted to know their history.

Before I left, I saw the local sunflower fields, which were actually rather picturesque. As a friend of mine pointed out, most people don't see that much bright yellow on a regular basis, particularly in a natural setting, so it was kind of captivating. Here's me looking like a total flower child:


I had to hop on a bus not soon after that, from which I took a motorbike, to the skytrain, to a van in order to get back home. If you don't ride at least three forms of transportation it’s not a real Thai trip. I only spent about 16 hours in Lopburi total, so the travel time felt even more dragged out than usual. Traveling on the weekend is still my greatest solace, but it’s also dissatisfying in its brevity.

However, I’ve decided to think about my circumstances in a more positive light, after remembering the many conversations I’ve had with travelers who wander freely for several months. Almost all of them agree that what really burns them out is not having a base, a space to call their own where they can decompress in between traveling. Here in Amata, I have that, humble though my town may be. Besides, travel is still travel, and even a short weekend can produce long lasting memories.

Sky Cowboys

This weekend kicked off with a field trip on Friday, a day began and 5am and seemed to last forever. We took the Mathayom 5 (Grade 11) students to several locations in Suphanburi, a province northeast of Bangkok.

The Suphanburi historical museum was vaguely interesting, although I wondered why the school selected Suphanburi as a field trip location. It’s namely an industrial province, and relative to other provinces it doesn’t have much in the way of ancient ruins or a gripping history. Suphanburi’s one claim to fame seems to be that much of the famous national poem “Khun Chang Khun Phaen” takes place in that province.

“Khun Chang Khun Phaen” is a long epic about two men, Khun Chang and Khun Phaen, who are in love with the same woman, Wanthong. The two men essentially spend the entire story fighting over Wanthong, kidnapping her, watching her sleep, marrying other women, trying to kill her child... when the love triangle debacle is brought to the King, he orders Wanthong to be executed for having two husbands. They chop her head off, while her son watches in horror. Great ending. Our coordinator seemed to think it had a good moral lesson, I decided to keep silent about my opinions regarding this tale.

We also went to a fun, crowded and busy market called Samchuk, where my students kept handing me a variety of unrecognizable foods and insisting “try it, teechur.” My one downfall was having too many sweets (sticky rice, jelly candy, sesame chews, a cherry coffee beverage, the list goes on), and I suffered the first stomachache I’ve had since arriving in Thailand.

We attended some sort of water buffalo show, which was narrated in Thai so I failed to understand its premise. The students were laughing, however, so I assume the storyline was amusing. The water buffalo performed a few tricks, including lifting their legs and smiling (I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a water buffalo smile, but it’s pretty awkward). Once midgets began dancing on the water buffalo and bounding from back to back, I decided to stop trying to gauge the academic value of this sight and just enjoy the absurdity. I can now also add water buffalo to my list of random animals I’ve ridden in Thailand.

We went to several cultural monuments, including a couple locations where the students and Thai teachers prayed. As Americans we debated whether we should join them, but I decided it would be more disrespectful of me to pretend to pray than to watch silently.

Once the field trip was over, we were told the school would provide a van to Bangkok, and that we’d arrive by 6:30pm at the latest. Of course, in true Thai style we ended up taking a bus, to a van, to a cab, to the skytrain, and I arrived in my destination past 8:00pm (which was regrettable considering I’d made dinner plans with my cousins at 7:00pm). My cousins were very understanding, and we went out for a tasty dinner at a Japanese restaurant called Fuji. I spent the evening at the home of my cousins, Jeff and Prapassaree, and their small but mighty dog, Dobby.

The Satit Kaset school fair kicked off on Saturday morning at the Bang Khen campus, where we performed our line dancing routine with our students in front of parents and school administrators (an embarrassing video of this is soon to come). Our students looked great with their little cowboy hats and bandanas, and they were so full of energy—I had my first feeling of pure teacher pride, and now I hope it will carry over to something a little more scholastic than the Cotton Eyed Joe.


Afterwards we grabbed lunch at the busy Kaset fair, and I wandered Bangkok a little on my own. I spent some time looking for a cell phone (yes, I lost it already) and then just enjoyed the experience wandering through the city. I stopped every once in a while to buy random street food, and practiced haggling for clothing (I pulled the teacher card again, and a vendor bended from 220 baht to 150). I was losing steam after walking almost 10 BTS stops on foot—this distance won’t mean much to those of you who have never been to Bangkok, but it’s a fair amount to trek with a full backpack. Sarah, another teacher from my school, invited me to her uncle’s really nice apartment in the city, where he greeted me with a taste of home with some California dried figs and raisins.

That evening we went out to a swanky bar called the Sky Bar, which overlooked the entirety of Bangkok. Drinks cost almost 500 baht, which for Thailand currency is really steep, but it was worth it for the view and ambiance. I got a drink called “Air” made with Grey Goose and real peach puree, with lychees floating on the bottom. The temperature was perfect, we had live jazz in the background and the city sparkled below us. We went out to an Irish Pub afterwards, but I called it a night pretty soon afterwards because I was tired of paying the cost of a five-course meal for a beer.



On Sunday we took a trip to the National Museum, where we saw, well, a lot of Buddhas. Old Buddhas, newer Buddhas, Buddhas Subduing Mara, Buddhas standing with their hands out, Buddhas with four arms, Buddhas with two arms…. The list goes on. There were also several ornate cabinets I wished I could take home with me, and a tablet engraved by the inventor of the Thai alphabet. I learned a little more about Thai history, although I’m not sure if many of the names stuck.

I also experienced a brief bout through Chinatown, which was so packed with stands, people, vehicles and food we could hardly move. Stores were crowded between buildings and almost spilling onto the street, and they offered anything from Chinese calendars to an entire cooked pig. We were traveling in a rather awkward crowd of seven, and I decided that next time I would only go with one other person, just for the sake of squeezing through stands and finding somewhere to sit.

I finally caught a bus back to Chonburi, my home sweet home where a gecko greeted me at the door and my bathroom was flooded from a leak. How I missed it!

Teacher photo of the week:

Waterfalling Into a Tiger's Lap

This Sunday I returned from another busy weekend excursion and concluded that I’m leading a pretty unusual life.

Here’s a question everyone gets on Mondays: “Hey, what did you do this weekend?”

Normal responses:
“I went to a movie.”
“I hung out.”

Answers these days:
“I rode elephants and rafted down the river Kwae”
“I swam in waterfalls and pet tigers.”

Before I go any further, I want to clarify: I know I’m talking about touching tigers and elephants, but I hope I’m not exoticizing this country. Life here seems pretty outlandish sometimes, but Thailand is also very westernized. Most of the monks here have cell phones. All of the children have facebook. There’s a 7/11 on every corner. Granted, the Lays chips flavors sold in a Thai 7/11 are BBQ Prawn, Nori Seaweed and Pickle Explosion… but you get the idea.

On to the good stuff! This past weekend was spent in Kanchanaburi, where we spent part of our orientation but missed some of the most important sites.

Saturday we went to Erawan National Park to see the waterfalls, and it was just my speed. There were some Europeans, but there were also plenty of Thai families, and none of the waterfalls were too crowded. The waterfalls were all blue, glowing and so lagoon-like that I expected a nymph of some sort to be bathing in one. The falls had seven layers, and the top waterfall was nearly empty—this was where we spent most of our time, just sitting on the smooth rocks as water poured around us.



Most of the pools had pesky little fish that felt like they were biting us, but I think they were actually nibbling off our dead skin. Still a pretty awkward sensation. It was funny to watch people get nipped for the first time and let out a little shriek.

The Tiger Temple on Sunday was pretty neat, but I definitely felt more like a tourist than I have in a while. As the brochure explained it, the public was allowed to see tigers in the middle of the day, when they were digesting and napping in the peak of the heat. During the mornings and evenings they roam free with the monks, but for the couple hours when tourists see them they have to be on leashes. It honestly didn’t seem to matter much, many of the tigers were lying lazily in one spot or just plain sleeping. I initially wondered whether it was worth it, but I decided there’s nothing quite like laying my head on a tiger’s stomach—not sure if I’ll ever be able to do something like that again.



On my way home I ended up at the wrong bus station in Bangkok, and tried to take a motorbike to the correct station. In spite of repeating the location name three times to my motorbike driver, I got dropped off somewhere arbitrary. At least I didn’t pay too much for the ride—the driver actually gave me a discount when I mentioned I was a teacher. I walked a bit until I found the sky train, at which point my friend called and explained that they were all on the last bus to Chonburi and were restraining the driver from leaving without me. That was a fun evening—I’m only half kidding, I think cutting things close keeps life interesting.

Thoughts on Teaching, Two Weeks In

Teaching English in Thailand requires many skills, and as I expected, patience is the most essential. However, there are several elements of teaching I did not anticipate, for example the physical side. The humidity sometimes makes it hard for me to focus, and my allergy to bug bites causes some of the stings on my legs to swell (a condition that is exacerbated by being on my feet all day). By the end of some classes, I’m blanketed in chalk dust, sweat and exhaustion. They look cute, I know. But don't let that fool you.

The most important step has been understanding my student’s perspective. English is a confusing language. I would hate to learn it as my second tongue. Naturally, many of my students feel the same way. I have accepted that most them would rather not bother with English, with the exception of a few precocious children in the front row (these kids are my lifeline). If you ask Thai children direct questions, they will probably mumble in response. If you ask them to read aloud, they will read in a soft whisper, and class focus will quickly dissipate.

Most of them don’t want light shone on their abilities, with a few exceptions. Children will usually volunteer if the activity involves art—Thai students are pretty incredible artists. Playing games not only encourages participation, it makes them associate English with fun. I’d rather see their faces lit up than glazed over with boredom. When I really want them to speak English, offering kids several answers to give me, rather than expecting complete improvisation, encourages them to respond with confidence.

One ex-pat teacher told me that Thai students are not independent or strong individuals, and I understand why he felt this way but don’t quite agree. There is certainly a strong group mentality, kids always go to the bathroom in pairs, they look to each other for answers, and the culture has a generally strong emphasis on maintaining the family/group unit throughout life (my coordinator is in her late 20’s and lives with her family). The ethnic homogeneity of the student population, along with the use of school uniforms and regulated haircuts also contributes to this sense of conformity. However, it’s easy to mistake their shyness for a lack of personality, and to miss the subtle attributes that make the children distinct. Their unique qualities are somewhat more subdued than those of Americans, but they certainly exist.

As for classroom management, disrespecting a teacher isn’t common, but chatting constantly during class is pretty normal here—that aspect of the Thai classroom, I can’t stand. At least in America kids are usually bored in silence, doodling or sleeping on their desks. Raising your voice does not work, and is considered disrespectful in this country. So oftentimes I’ll just wait (sometimes for several minutes) for them to be silent before I speak, staring intently until they hush each other. If one student is particularly chatty, I’ll make him get up and do example work with me on the board, in English.

When I’m not forced to punish, I think I’m more fun than some Thai teachers. Girls generally like me; they ask me if I have a boyfriend, and comment on my long blonde hair and clothing. Sometimes the younger kids don’t want me to leave after a really fun day. When it comes to disinterested older kids I try to take things in stride. If they’re so distracted they can’t focus, I will briefly put our work on hiatus to talk with them about surfing or movies. At least they’re speaking English! Getting through the schoolwork is definitely part of my obligation, but I also flew across the world to help Thai students practice conversing with a native English speaker.

My Grade 10 students, probably my hardest class, have become more endearing in light of my line dancing class. My coordinator assumed all Americans know how to line dance, and asked that we prepare a routine for some grade 10 students. Another teacher suggested we teach the kids the “Cotton Eyed Joe,” and I loved the idea—not sure if that counts as line dancing, but it’s definitely a significant pop culture piece from the states. We see the class as an opportunity to just have fun with the kids, and I think it’s working. We even got our coordinator, Thamanoon, to do the dance and the students loved seeing a person of authority busting a move. They act embarrassed, but they also voluntarily show up for practice during their lunch break, so I know it’s at least somewhat entertaining.

Things I’m finally getting used to:
- Being asked “may I come in, teacher?” every time a student enters the classroom.
- The hundreds of little shoes scattered in the hallways (students take off their shoes before entering the classroom).
- Seeing boys come late to class after military training, still wearing army uniforms.
- Students showing up to school in sweaters and scarves for 70-degree weather.
- Three words: “Goooooddd mooowwwnneeeeennng teeeechuurrr!!!”

Address

For the record, my address is:

Rochelle Bailis #212, Amata Mansion (BIP), 700/1000 Moo 1 Klong-Tam Ru, Amphur Muang, Chonburi 20000 Thailand

Letter, packages and other forms of postal love are strongly encouraged! I'm also just curious to see how well the mailing system works here.

The Beguiling Boroughs of Bangkok

I spent the weekend in Bangkok, and it turned out to be kind of a reunion weekend for most of the teachers on my program.

I began my Friday evening with a drink in a traditional English pub with our British co-workers, who gave us some pointers when it comes to understanding Thai culture and English language teaching. They were both self-diagnosed addicts of Thailand, and neither of them would ever consider moving back home. I’ve already spoken with several ex-pats whose lives are similarly entrenched, and it fascinates me to speak with someone who has seemingly left the entire world they know behind in favor of a new life. Could I do that?

I roomed with several other teachers in a cavernous hostel I discovered called Suk 11, which had the decor of an Indiana Jones adventure ride. It ended up being the main destination for most other teachers visiting for the weekend, and was thankfully close to a lot of activity.


We went out around Sukhumvit road that night, to several quirky bars including the Pickled Liver, the Hilary Bar, and Bangkok Beat, which featured a live band. I had a great time, although every bar was crawling with shady old British men looking for young Thai women to hire or liquor up. My guy friends were literally the only young men I saw in Bangkok Beat, the rest of the male population consisted of old, awkward white men looking to score.

The next morning I dragged some friends to Chatachuk market, off the Mo Chit BTS stop. Chatachuk is a never-ending maze of small stores, selling everything from leather shoes to art. The animal section was by far the most surprising portion; birds, kittens, puppies, marsupials of all varieties were displayed in an endless series of boxes and cages, many of them covered in cheesy bows and flowers. I ended up wandering for an hour or two, and was quite happy to simply weave through endless hallways of colorful stores and savory-smelling food nooks.


I enjoyed a delicious Lebanese lunch with my cousin Steve and his girlfriend Anastasia, who lived only a block or two from my hostel, and Steve went over the basics of scuba gear—I’ve just begun my Open Water Diver course, and will be doing my training dives with him.

Afterwards I went with Tim, another teacher on my program, to a film screened as part of the Bangkok International Film Festival called “Diamonds.” It was about women in the Asia/Pacific region with HIV, and one of the women featured in the film was in the theatre. She was an Indian woman who contracted HIV from her husband, who her father pressured her to marry through an arranged marriage (her father then stigmatized her for being HIV positive, go figure). Tim and I got up to leave after the Q&A session, but were stopped by a man that informed us another film was screening and gestured for us to sit down. The film was supposed to be about a Filipino written language that was almost lost after the Spanish colonization… I think. The film was almost an hour long, and felt like a drug trip gone sour.

Another thing that caught me off guard was before the movie began, when everyone stood up for a cinematic tribute to the King. That night I also took a few seconds to notice that no one in the busy sky train station was walking, and realized that it was because the national anthem was playing.

That evening was kicked off with a satisfying meal of Mexican food at a joint called Charlie Brown’s, where the owner informed me that cheese was their steepest expense (seriously, what’s with this country’s lack of cheese). We also had some margaritas, which for me is a taste of home. Afterwards, my friends and I all went out to a huge club called RCA or Route 66. I literally ran into half the members of my teaching program there, and was pretty blown away by the series of rooms: one played dance/hip-hop music, one featured some sort of techno, and another had a Thai pop rock performance complete with back-up dancers. The bathroom, a certifiable house of mirrors, had a massive foyer with modern-looking sofas and crazy statues of animals.

By Sunday morning I was running out of steam—carrying my backpack, walking and riding trains everywhere on little sleep… I need to get my traveler stamina back. A few friends and I had breakfast at one of Bangkok’s massive malls (Siam Paragon and Central World are some of the most sprawling malls I’ve ever been to), and slowly began to part ways. I’m really happy to be back and showered, but I’m already looking forward to our next weekend adventure. I’ve also decided I really like Bangkok, in spite of the smog and muggy heat; I love the winding alleys, chaotic traffic, hidden restaurants and markets, lanterns and sizzling food, and all with great public transportation. It’s dirty, messy and awesome.

Loi Kratong

Hey, I wanted share some pictures of Loi Kratong, the river festival our coordinator took us to last night. We lit the candle and incense sticks on our krathongs (little baskets made of sugar cane, leaves and flowers), then floated them down the river as an offering.






The four American teachers demonstrating our sparkler handiwork:

Chonburi Living

These past few days, I've been trying to acquaint myself with my province. So far, Chonburi has proven to be somewhat of a desolate and industrial wasteland, but it's revealed a few hidden gems.

One of said "gems" is a small road we found tucked behind a field, less than a mile from our apartment. It's certainly a locals place, to the point where our presence as farangs (westerners) attracted stares, whispers and even pictures. However, we were so happy to have somewhere to grab dinner and a beer that we decided to go two nights in a row. No one on the street speaks English, so I'm seeing it as an opportunity to practice my Thai.

Our favorite location is an outdoor restaurant packed with locals and dripping with vines, where an elephant is a frequent visitor. Turning around and seeing an elephant in the bar was almost as surprising as noting the other patron's disinterest regarding the elephant's presence. We bought a bag of sugar cane to feed the elephant, and got a good laugh at his manners (he would squeak impatiently if you kept sugar cane away from him, but he was polite enough to throw away his trash). The low point of the evening was seeing a blind man come through the bar and sing for money. His eyes looked sealed shut, and he was led around by the arm—I wondered if he was intentionally blinded so that people would take pity on him as a beggar. I also suspect there's a brothel on our street, since old men emerged from one building with young women in small dresses, and disappeared down an alley. I think it's probably best that I'm exposed to these things now, so that I can (in a kind of depressing way) get accustomed to seeing them. I am strictly forbidden to be politically active, so I need to put this issue aside for now.

My favorite location so far is Bang Saen beach, which is only a 20 minute cab ride away. We met up with a handful of other teachers on our program on the beach, and we enjoyed a lazy day under the umbrellas, strolling on the walk street packed with seafood stands. We were definitely the only farangs for a few miles, and I realized that this was a popular weekend get-away for Thai families. The only downside was the water, which was pretty brown from industrial run-off. I jumped in and immediately got out, because the smell and taste was so foul. Still, I was happy to be back by the sea, it's the only location where I always feel at home.


I loved the evening in Bang Saen, when the entire beach lit up with fireworks and paper lanterns being set off into the sky by Thai families. It was a beautiful sight at sunset. We lit some sparklers in an effort to join the pyromaniacal fun.




That night we had dinner in a local Thai joint, where we met a crazy ex-pat from Australia named Shane, who showed us the ropes when it came to ordering. He was definitely a character, as most ex-pats in Thailand are turning out to be. Being the only Westerner in a new country seems to affect people in good and bad ways, it definitely fosters some quirks. He talked openly about the "ladies" (a.k.a prostitutes) he buys, but also spoke just as candidly about his two daughters who he loves with all his heart (he literally has their names tattoed over his heart).

We went out for the evening, and met some incredibly friendly Thai people at our bar, including one Thai guy with silver shoes and dance moves that rivaled Michael Jackson. It was probably one of the strangest and most fun nights I've had so far, and it ended with some definite transportation issues. I've already decided that I love riding on vehicles where you can feel the wind in your hair, motorbikes and the back of trucks especially.

I start my first full week of teaching tomorrow, hopefully I can really focus my energy and make it through until Friday.