Public Service Announcement

Teacher Bradley will be out of the office starting December 25th through January 3rd. She is heading north for some zip lining, spelunking and cooler temperatures. Regular office hours will recommence on January 4th.


Thank you for your time. And now, a brief word from our sponsors:

Bradley versus the not-so-mini Thais: Round 2

I have renamed my high schoolers (yes, that is now a word) HellBeasts. In all seriousness, that class feels like hell. In the past month it has been a source of unneeded stress in my life that I’ve been struggling to overcome. The class I teach them is a joke; they know it and I know it. Three times a week I go up to their classroom and try and teach them something to prepare them for their upcoming test they will not pass. In response, I get yelled at, ignored, snored at and things thrown at me. There was one fun incident with a box cutter but I don’t think the boy was really trying to stab me… And when I say yelled at, I mean some of these boys can throw a tantrum better than any of the nursery students at the kindergarten: in your face, screaming and spitting with grand hand gestures in Thai type of tantrum. Oh joy. I almost have to psych myself up for those fifty minutes, knowing I’m bringing a tiny pocketknife to a gunfight. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I don’t feel comfortable touching the students after they accused me of kicking them and I can’t yell at them because, hey, I’m suppose to be the sophisticated adult here. Plus they scream a lot louder than I do. I could call it a terribly degrading experience I have three times a week. They are mean, disrespectful and, in a way, powerful. Teachers have fled this class crying, some have refused to go back after one week and one smaller teacher actually fainted in the class from yelling so much. They know if they wanted to all they have to do is complain to Mommy and Daddy who then complain to the school and it’s “bye-bye, Teecha,” which has happened before. Frankly, I don’t have the correct attitude or temperament for the class.

Yet, sadly, life is not black and white and you could make a case to stick up for these kids or, at least pity them. One thing that is very obvious is that some of the kids don’t know how to think. Truly, really don’t know how to think. When I tried to ask them questions about their plans after graduation I got silence (blissful silence!) When asking what plans they had for their upcoming break I got shrugged shoulders. Even asking if there was an activity that they might want to try instead of trying to accomplish something in this class was met with crickets. None of them have anything to say about what they wanted. They don’t know how to ‘want’ because they haven’t really wanted much in their lives. These kids are groomed, wired in and made mobile in the latest fashions. ‘Want’ isn’t a concept they have known. Consequently, they’ve never had to think, ergo, no thinking skills. Simple reasoning skills like process of elimination are foreign to them.

And it’s easy to forget, especially when I’m watching a student crumble my worksheet and throw it across the room while throwing a tantrum, that they are teenagers complete with all the peer pressure, insecurity and heightened emotion. Combined with their lack of self-control and maturity that grows with responsibility it can be a dangerous combination. I am constantly reminding myself that they are regular teenagers and the drama unfolding in the head of a teenager always seems like life or death. And worse, I can't really get to know the students because of the language barrier. While their English is better than my Thai, so much is lost in translation that we might as well not be talking at all. Frustrating, to say the least.

My last class before their midterm test I took one from the kindergarten handbook and brought in two sheets of paper. I asked them to paint me their nick names then their names in the Thai alphabet. I put on some music and sat painting with my little HellBeasts. Granted, only half the class showed up that day but it was the first time I wasn’t yelled at. As the kindergarten has taught me, all kids enjoy making a mess with paint and they are just kids after all…kids with Blackberrys, BMWs, horns and tails, that is. 

 

The Art of Island Hopping: Koh Samui

Since I got here, I’ve been doing my best to go native. I hear that’s the best way to really experience a culture. In someplace as foreign to me as Thailand is there is no other choice but to fully go where I never thought I’d go; jump in quickly and ask questions only when really, really lost.

So when my school said,

“We’d like to send you on a free trip to Koh Samui” I thought it sounded too good to be true. Surely, the school is trying to bribe me with something...which I'm totally fine with.Why would I ever say “no” to a free trip to an island anywhere? Where ever they end up having us stay, and since it’s free I’m guessing it will either be a dump or a home-stay, it’s bound to be another great experience where I am thrown into the Thai culture whether I want to or not.

The Destination Resort and Spa is flanked on all sides by run down bungalows and shantys, most likely where the hired help lives. Yet before I had a chance to say “I told myself so” we pulled into the parking lot of the resort and stopped there. Psych! Some one ushered us into the a lobby that is actually a desk and plush couches underneath a great tent and gave us passion fruit while they cleaned up the rooms. The ladies and I took this time to explore our new home. The resort has planked walkways that are covered by beams of wood that hold flowerbeds and bushes whose tentacles reach down to brush against you as you walk past. One area we came across were condos surrounding a large pool. All the back doors opened onto steps into the pool. The main pool was an infinity pool that stretched out to the private beach and the beautiful ocean.

So when I was walking to my room, I knew this was probably going to be a great stay. I was unprepared. This was the nicest room I will most likely ever sleep in. A real bed! A real king size bed. Rainfall shower with rubbing stones instead of a floor. A balcony with a large couch. An outdoor bathtub (cross that off the bucket list!!). TV. Bathrobe and slippers. S and I looked at each other while the bellboy set down our bags and literally started jumping up and down, yelling and running around the room. The bellboy stood staring at us (and it didn’t occur until much later that he was probably waiting for a tip) as I put on my slippers and robe and started sliding across the hardwood floor.

If I do a little mental math, I calculate it took approximately 2.59 repeating seconds for my mind to switch from native-Thai-fun-experiences-woman back into middle-class-blonde-American. I can’t really tell you much about Koh Samui because I left the resort twice in the whole weekend. And what I saw says it’s a lot like a Snow Bird area for Thais and Europeans. But who cares! I got to bathe outside. I got to kayak again. I got to sit by an infinity pool and drink froo-froo drinks. I slept in an actual bed. I could even flush the toilet paper!

I opted to swim in the ocean instead of the pool. The beach was deserted so the water surrounding it was mostly all mine to enjoy. The beach is in something of a wide cove surrounded by various hills and sailboats and one very, very large Buddha statue on a cliff, watching everything. I thought about taking a picture of it but decided against it. It feels like I’ve been seeing Thailand only through my new camera that can focus farther and better than I can. But this view couldn’t really be translated into a photo; at least not with my lens. It couldn’t capture the different colors of the clouds, the many hill peaks stretched out far into the sea or the perfect gold color of the Buddha. In a picture you can’t hear the sea slapping my skin or the distant bells from the temples. Can’t convey the feeling I had of being somewhere old. With that Buddha watching me take a swim I got the feeling I was on some island where the locals had long been extinct and the veggies had reclaimed the hillside and this mammoth of a statue was all the remained of whoever had once been there. I chewed that fantasy while I swam.

Then I turn around and went back to my padded lawn chair by the infinity pool. 

Buddha hiding behind our resort

The lobby

Good morning, Thailand!

Yet another giant Buddha hidden behind our resort

The Art of Island Hopping

The water

If ever I felt I needed to disappear or escape from the burdens of daily life forever, I would disappear on the island of Koh Chang. You could all find me wrapped in a sarong swinging in a hammock on Lonely Beach, bad cold beer in one hand and a book in the other. It’s everything you think a beach in Thailand should be. Rustic but not without a measure of comfort (like western toilets). All the little bars and restaurants are open air and made from different kinds of indigenous wood. Lonely Beach is not as lonely as it was when given this nickname. The strip of road is littered with quant bungalows and restaurants. Hidden along dirt roads are the newer bars that play the typical bad American rap music but are made from bamboo and banana leaves with tables and pillows on the ground for their patrons.

The road of Lonely Beach

“Last time I was here,” my French friend in the bungalow next to me said, “there was nothing here. This was the only place to stay and, obviously, they’ve done some work in the last six years.”

I’m not sure how much work they could have done in the last six years. The bungalow I shared with Jenny was nothing more than a wooden room on stilts with a bed that left a narrow path to the crammed bathroom. It was home to over a billion ants but they seemed content to stay everywhere except the bed. But I didn’t mind them. In fact, I didn’t mind much of anything. I didn’t mind that there is only one road along this island that is the definition of precarious so it takes you a million years to get anywhere. I didn’t care that there is a deafening cicada in the jungle forest that sounds like a distorted microphone on crack going all day long. I didn’t care that the drinks were too expensive and I couldn’t taste the booze. Unlike other places I've been to in Thailand this place doesn’t ooze any type of emotion. There is no wave of ineffable awe as you kayak out to the surrounding islands and look at the lush veggies contrasted against the blue skies. There is no general vibe amongst different groups of people because all kinds of different people populate and mingle on this section of the island. There is just peace. It wraps around you like a blanket fresh from the drier and makes it feel as though the island has been waiting for you all your life. I felt no guilt at my laziness. I spent most of the weekend in a bathing suit and sarong with nappy beach hair and sand on my skin.

Okay, I’ll (try to) stop gushing. In reality, I didn’t spend nearly enough time on Koh Chang as I should have. While even plagued by a whisper in my ear that constantly hissed "lay back in the sand, Bradley. Relax longer, Bradley. Come swim in the clear water, Bradley" I was able to squeeze in a hike through the jungle to waterfalls, kayak trip out into the immaculate water to the smaller, uninhabited islands off the coast and sat on the beach till the wee morning hours. 

Jungle trails

Jungle hiking is much different from hiking in the mountains. While moments on the mountains can be quite and peaceful the jungle is loud and dark. Very dark. It’s so dense it looks pitch black. And that cicada really does roar and roar all day long making it impossible to carry a conversation with Jenny while we hiked. The trails are cracked with roots and fallen trees, which I found confusing since the universal sign in America that the trail is closed is a fallen tree over the trail. The heat on the trails can be a real killer but the pools collecting the waterfall are refreshing.

Our last night on the island I sat with H, S and Jenny at a beach bar. They had fire dancers going on the beach and bad techno music playing for our dancing pleasure. Sometime around 2 am the clouds parted to reveal a glittering map of constellations I’m not familiar with and an almost upside-down half moon. I’ve never heard anyone exclaim how beautiful a southern night sky is. I always hear about places like Canada or Alaska that boast the most starlit skies. When shining down on crystal water and glittering white beaches, I’m sure the stars of Thailand could give Canada a fair fight.

Peeing in the Thai cup

Me – Can you repeat that?

Nurse 1 – Urn.

Me – I’m sorry. Again?

Nurse 1 – (Smiles and waves me into a bathroom.) Urn.

Me – Urn?

Nurse 1 – Chai (Yes, in Thai).

Me – I don’t understand.

(Second nurse comes over. She picks up a plastic dish with a small hole as deep as a thimble in the center of it)

Nurse 2 – Ureen.

Me – You want me to pee in that?

(Now they are confused. Nurse 3 and 4 come in and close the door. Nurse 3 spreads her legs and wiggles her fingers between her legs.)

Nurse 4 – Ureen.

Me – You want me to pis…ah, urinate in the dish.

(Nods)

Me – (Looking around for the little tray window one normally puts the pee cup on) And where do I put it when I’m done?

(Confusion ensues. Nurse 2 opens the door and Nurse 5 attempts to squeeze in)

Me – Okay. Yes. Urinate. Got it. Chai.

In order to get my final work permit and visa extension I was told I was going to be taken to the doctor to get blood drawn for a syphilis check. Random, but pretty sure I got that in the bag. So when they handed me the tiny plastic dish and had a con-fab in the bathroom with me I was a little confused. I’ll pee in a cup, sure, but what the hell am I suppose to do with a small plastic dish. Swipe it through the stream real quick and set it on the bathroom sink? Turns out that’s exactly what I did.

Next I was escorted into the doctors office. Nurse 2 comes in with a strip and shows it to the doctor. They babble in Thai for a few minutes before I ask if something is wrong.

Doc – It’s negative.

Me – What is?

Doc – Your drug test.

No shit. I am not going to a Thai jail.

Doc – And you never drink and never smoke?

I bit my lip in an attempt to not laugh in his face and shook my head.

The doctor was a younger Thai man who spoke cracked English that was even harder to understand beneath his mask. He then whips out a metal tongue stick. Before I have time to ask if it’s sterile he jams it in my throat, pressing down a lot harder than any doctor ever has and triggers my gag reflex. Since I have a cold I can’t breath through my nose so I start to choke. He takes it out.

Doc – Sick?

Me – Yes. A cold.

Doc – How long?

Me – Two weeks, maybe.

He’s writing all these notes on a blank piece of paper seemingly without purpose. By the end of the session it looks like he might just be doodling.

Doc – We take blood now. Test for syphilis, drug addiction, elephantitis, leprosy, and alcoholism.

Me - (Nod)

The blood test went off without a hitch. I was told to come back to pick up my blood panel results the following weekend. Not before leaving with four different types of pills for my cold. One is for my runny nose (which will be good for Jenna as she is sick of living with a snotty roommate who sounds like an elephant when she blows her nose) which I take three times a day, one for if my fever comes back, one for my cough which I also take three times a day, then a bottle of brown murky liquid the doctor told me to sip on when I feel a cough coming on…?? The only thing missing was the old lady pillbox to keep them all in.

"Teecha" Bradley vs The Mini Thais, Round 2

Pancake playing Twister with color cards

I'm a full month into teaching and I'm pretty certian my job at the kindergarten rocks. You know what I do everyday? I play with kids. I get them running around the room. I get to teach them "I love my teacher." I get to make funny faces out the window. I get to sing songs and dance like no one is watching.
And the students think it's hilarious. Slowly but surely these tykes are warming my heart. After only a month I'm saddened by the thought that I won't be here to see them graduate and move up to the big school. Or worse: they're so young they'll most likely forget me a few weeks after I'm gone.
Their curiosity makes me feel tender and uncomfortable simultaneously. They are very curious about my appearance. For the first two weeks they just started at me, more agog than frightened. Now they have warmed up to me and come sit in my lap or ramble Thai at me like they can't wait to tell me something. They find my skin curious, especially the girls. When I sit in a chair next to a group of them they will come over and gently stroke me leg with their little fingers. They point to scars and moles and bug bites then they look at me with genuine concern. Nothing is more hilarious to them then when they stroke a spot I missed shaving. They are playing with my hair constantly. They fight to hold my hand or give me a high five after class. And I mean really fight, slapping each other and pushing each other on the ground to get to me.

After lunch, girls dance and boys do Muay Thai

All this makes me a bit uncomfortable because, A) I'm very ticklish so the slightest brush of something on my leg sends me into a fit, and, B) I am not use to such innocent interactions. I have not spent a lot of time with children before. I wasn't even sure I really liked kids, with the exception of one smart little red head. With children, every smile, touch and laugh is made from a wonder at the world. All experience seem new to them. In my head, I'm thinking, "teachers in America aren't this affectionate with their students. Should I be telling them off? But they're so cute."
Then they start slapping my ass. This happens everyday. They are so short that my ass is a perfect target zone for their stubby little arms when they want to get my attention. Still, my gut reaction is to see if the Thai teacher saw it, and if she did, am I getting fired soon? *This might be a good time to note that the Thai teachers, like all women all around the world, are huge gossips who don't seem to like me or want to get to know me.

All dressed up for Loy Krathong

One day while reading to the class one sneaky little ninja named Madge crawled under my chair. He poked three fingers through the slip in the chair and made contact dangerously close to my exit only area. Naturally, I jumped up with a little yelp. Madge just turned his head and stared at me from under the chair as if saying "did that hurt? Sorry, teecha." The two teachers sitting with the kids were laughing for ten minutes. Loud and guttural laughter that left them wiping tears from their cheeks. Probably safe to say I'm not getting fired any time soon. From the kindergarten, that is.

The Thai Bikini Wax

No, there will not be pictures in this post. Dad, I promise I don't get graphic.

S - “You know what the scariest thing in the world is? Two Thai women in masks standing over your vagina in an apron with scissors, a comb, and a stick of wax. It’s terrifying.”

H - “Why did yours have scissors?”

S - “So they could cut off the wax”

Me - "Why were they cutting the wax off?"

H - “My girls would rip the wax off then cringed. Seriously, the look on this woman’s face made me think she was tearing off my skin.”

S – "I think the wax was bad. I think I’m bleeding."

Me – "Explain to me why there were two women in the room?"

S - "The wax must have been bad."

H –  "There’s no way they have ever done that before. I mean, they just ripped it all out in the most painful way"

S – "One of them was just pressing on my hips pinning me to the table. I couldn’t have left even if I wanted to."

H – "Give me a cigarette"

S – "I’m definitely bleeding."

This is a snip of the conversation that ensued when I met up with H and S after their bikini wax. I was standing in the bookstore and when I turned around there was H, looking like a feral dog all hunched over and hair disheveled. S stood behind her looking the part of the wounded dog. The dragged me outside to tell me the tale of their waxing. In short, two women came in and just started putting wax on either side of their bodies while one woman held them down. Then they just started ripping. If you’ve never gotten a wax before, I can assure you that this is not how it’s suppose to happen. I did my best to sympathize with them but mostly I was just bursting into laughter. The two of them looked terrible. H like she had just been ambushed and was mentally preparing herself for another attack that could pop out from around the Christmas tree at any second and S seemed to be in shock.

With hostels booked on beaches for the next two long weekends the three of us had set out to the behemoth that is Paradise at The Mall in search of a salon that could accommodate the needs of beach bound farangs. In the course of our search we got separated and I ended up buying a camera while the H and S said they found a salon. The salon could only do H and S that night so I set out to ask around the other salons.

1^st Salon

Me – Bikini wax?

Them – No, no.

2^nd Salon

Me – Bikini wax?

Them – 1,500 baht.

Me – Buh-bye.

3^rd Salon

Me – Wax?

Them – Area?

Me – Bikini

Them – Downstairs. Yves Rocher.

I’m guessing that is what the woman said. What it sounded like was “wostar. *thai babble* rocheear” It took me a half an hour to find it. Turns out it was nice little French boutique where the manager spoke perfect English. I made an appointment for the following day.

Fifteen minutes later I met up with H and S and began having serious doubts. There scenario sounded a lot like an episode of “Tales from the Crypt.” But this was essential to my beach happiness so I returned to The Mall the following day. I may have heard the Crypt-Keeper’s laughter as I was walking.

My suspicions were lifted the second we got started. Only one woman entered the tiny room and after the first rip I could tell this was not her first rodeo. The only English she knew was "too hot?" and "ouch?" She gave me some disposable underwear, positioned my legs that were hanging off the very small table and put on her mask (no gloves which I did my best to ignore but she did wash her hands many times). 

It took about twenty minutes and by then she had removed her mask, cut off the underwear and had whiffed twice. The whiffs were my fault, though. The salon was blaring that Michael Bolton song where he wants to know how he’s suppose to live without someone followed by “Wind Beneath my Wings” and I kept thinking about H and S and the fucking Crypt-Keeper so I got a mad case of the giggles which caused her to miss.

When all was said and done I wished I knew the Thai for “thank you for not violating me.” Instead I exchanged wai (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thai_greeting) with her and gave her 100 baht tip.

 

Loy Krathong

The costume

Loy Krathong means “floating lantern.” On the full moon of the twelfth lunar month (also known as November) Thailand becomes a continent covered in candle lit lanterns. The pictures of these floating lanterns are some of the most well known photos of Thailand (Google Image them!!) and this holiday was on every OEGers list of things to experience. There are two types of lanterns for Loy Krathong festival: water lanterns and sky lanterns.  The water lantern is a beautifully crafted conglomerate of banana leaves,orchids, incense and candles arranged on a piece of a banana tree trunk. You can also find lanterns made from glass and some kind of dyed bread dough but the traditional lanterns are the ones based on a slab of banana tree trunk. They come in all sizes and colors and they smell lovely. They are set afloat to honor the water goddess and ask her forgiveness for all transgressions made that year. It is also symbolic of letting all your burdens and woes float away, leaving you in peace. The sky lanterns are made from a white, fragile tissue paper. You light the coil on the bottom and when it fills with enough smoke it floats off into the air, carrying your wishes with it.

About to let our lanterns float

The Loy Krathong festivities went on the whole week. I taught the children the names of all the parts of the water lantern, trying to get them to understand “to float,” which had me running around the room swaying my lantern back and forth while making a swishing noise. They loved this. The full moon was on a Sunday so Friday the school had a mock festival where we all lit our water lanterns and set them afloat in the pool. The teachers dressed Jenna and I in traditional Thai garbs and paraded us around the school. It was really uncomfortable, as every parent wanted their child to have a picture with the farang dressed as a Thai princess. Kids I’ve never taught were tossed in my arms while flashing cameras blinded me. Not my favorite activity but how often will I ever be dressed as a Thai princess everyone wants a picture with.

We found ourselves in a park by the Chao Phraya River Sunday for the real ceremonies. It was beautiful. The river was littered with candlelight while huge boats-turned-floats went up and down the river shooting off fireworks.  We bought two lanterns from a family selling them outside the park and walked to the river. Earlier that week I took the time to write something of a hate letter. It’s contents contained some of the more serious issues I’d recently faced and wanted to let go of. I rolled it up, tied it with a lock of hair (you’re suppose to add hair or a sliver of your nail to your lantern) and tucked it underneath the blue orchids of my lantern. After a fight to get to the banks of the river, S and I placed our lantern on a plate that had a stick attached to it (no joke, this is how you put your lantern in the water.)

“Let go of all your bad,” the man said as he lowered the lantern in the water.

S and I shared this lantern

Watching the lantern float away I was suddenly struck with a very strong feeling. It was somewhere between anxiety (I had been nursing some of these issues a while so I can understand the separation anxiety) and clarity. It was intense and then it was gone leaving me grinning at my own sentimentality.

Strictly speaking, the sky lanterns are illegal in Bangkok. But when I looked up at the night sky it was clear there was no one enforcing this law. In true Bangkok form, we walked all of a minute outside the park before we found a woman selling them on the street. We took our lantern over to a small bridge where others were ushering their wishes up to the sky. The four of us held it as it filled with smoke, took a million pictures, made a wish and then let it loose. The pure glee derived from the juvenile simplicity of letting a lantern carry your dreams to the sky is almost feral in its intensity. And while I can’t tell you exactly what I wished for I’ll only say it has something to do with the day after Thanksgiving and a sea of Red…

The sky was a spectacular sight, like hundreds of stars had just been birthed and were shining bright, moving across a full moon and clear sky. The river lapped against the flames of the lanterns, dragging them down to the bottom of the river along with woes of a city, leaving a person feeling brand new. I wish you all had been there.

Bradley versus the not-so-mini Thais

When the high school fired one of the teachers last week they dumped the majority of his workload on H. The administration then had me take over one of H’s classes. The class is called TOEIC, Test of English for International Communication. It’s a lot like a glorified SAT without that pesky math section. Theoretically, the kids can’t even graduate unless they pass the test. All I’m suppose to do is go in there and teach right out of the book. It isn’t graded so I don’t have to create a lesson plan or create tests. H told me just to make them do worksheets from the book.

High school is a horse of another color spectrum when compared to kindergarten.

“They’re going to eat you alive,” Pete told me. “No one is going to pass that test. No one in this school has ever passed the test. And the course isn’t graded so you can’t use that as leverage.”

“Can we go back to the part where they eat me alive?”

I wasn’t too worried. I knew I was just going to have to walk in confident and on the ball and be more strict then I had planned on. Not as easy as pie but put easier than making a whole Thanksgiving dinner.

Pete walked me up to the classroom filled with fifteen 17-18 year old Thai hipsters. One of the girls had out scissors and a mirror and was trimming her bangs horribly. The guys were asleep on the desk or floor or throwing things around the room. Ah, high school. 

Pete introduced me to the miscreants then left me in the lion pit. I’m pretty sure the kids didn’t even look at me for most of the first day. I tried to ask them their names and I usually got a finger in my face telling me to wait or a nod telling me they understood. I switched tactics from getting to know them to rubbing their noses in the book. Didn’t work. I picked up three names in 50 minutes and we didn't even get through a fraction of the lesson. I spent most of that time getting things thrown at me, having one student screaming some load bird call, others pretending they were race car drivers and revving their none existent engines. It was a nightmare, worse than any scene from a bad movie about tough high school kids. These kids aren’t tough they are spoiled. And they aren’t tiny like most Thai’s their age. Some of them are huge. One of the big ones decided it would be funny to get up and stand in front of me while I was talking so the class couldn’t see me. When I tried to steer him back to his chair he actually dragged me a few feet in the other direction, which is kind of funny.

After my first class I walked back to the dorms to find out I was locked out. I left my stuff by my door and ran up to grab the spare key. I came down the back stairwell and when I looked out the window there they were; three of the worst of the pack staring up at me from five feet away with cigarettes hanging from their mouth and faces as white as the snow they’ve never seen. Ah, Revenge. Sweet revenge is mine for the taking. I’m certain if you had snapped a photo of my face you would have captured the sweet smile worn by those wounded beings who see revenge dead head. Smoking behind the TEACHER’S dormitory, where all the other teachers sneak off to smoke while school is in session. This act speaks for itself and I will not go on about their stupidity. I walked over to them and calmly told them to leave, not before I made it clear that they were going to be angels in my class tomorrow. Of course, another teacher saw them running away but they received a slap on the wrist because these kids can do no harm in the eyes of the administration.

I wish I could tell you that it was just a case of the Mondays and they were better as the week went on but, sadly, that wasn’t the case. By the end of the week they had started to spread rumors to the other teachers that I was physically harming them in class, kicking and hitting them. A few other more serious issues arose that lead me to believe 1) there is no teaching them. I will prepare a lesson and get up and try to teach the lesson but there really is no teaching them, and 2) I’m just going to have find a way to get by without getting myself into trouble and/or losing my mind. In the meantime, I’ll be watching Dangerous Minds and The Substitute this weekend to try and get some pointers. I refuse to be beaten by Thai hipsters.

Pandas??

Begging Monkey

My body does not agree with Thailand. In the past month I have had every possible stomach ailment you can imagine. I’ve guzzled prune juice, I’ve downed Imodium, I’ve walked the streets holding my stomach searching for a bush to puke behind, I’ve laid crippled on my bed certain of death from pain in my belly. I started taking a round of antibiotics which cleared up every problem in a week except the bone crippling pain, which is probably some kind of worm, a reaction to a weird noodle here, or that ulcer my college diet of caffeine and nicotine always threatened me with, not sure yet. Two days after I went off the antibiotics I fell victim to an Asian flu I was certain would make me pass out in class. I’m sure it was a gift from one of my little darlings at school. What sweethearts. I’ve never had anything quite like it. I was exhausted, couldn’t get my nose to stop mimicking a waterfall, my eyes were so irritated I couldn’t put my contacts in.

“You need Tiffy,” Pete told me.

“Who is that?”

“It’s a drug,” he told me on Friday. “Go down to our shack and ask Pee-Mow (the town drunk’s daughter) for it. It might knock you out but it’s good stuff.”

H, S and Jenna hiding in the WW II Bomb Shelter at the Zoo

He was right. It did really knock me out, in fact I’m certain they lace it with speed, but I couldn’t care less because I felt like a million dollars when I woke up on Saturday. It’s a miracle drug. I found a website on the net that will ship it to America if you ever feel the need for a miracle cure for a nasty Asian flu.

So what do you do on a Saturday all jacked up on speed?

“Let’s go to the zoo and see the panda!” Jenna said.

Giant lizard just walking around

We made the now well travelled trip into Bangkok to the Dusit Zoo. Now everyone knows that the zoo in Omaha is the best in America and those who claim otherwise have never been there and are liars. So I wasn’t expecting to be wowed by the place but over all it was quite nice. The zoo presents itself as something of a jungle oasis of flora and fauna, a haven to lizards and lots of monkeys. The exhibits, though, were really sad. The hippos and crocs barely had any water and feeding the animals is a favorite pastime for all who come so there was more than one monkey with a begging hand hanging from his cage. The worst part though was the false advertisement; there was no fricking giant panda!!! I paid B100 to see one of the rarest animals in the world and he’s not even in Bangkok, he’s up in Chiang Mai. Never mind that there are murals of him painted on the walls outside the zoo, it’s just a cheap trick to lure farang to see the elephants and the R.O.U.S. (rodents of unusual size. Oh yes, they do exist! (Princess Bride anyone?)) So the zoo was a bit of a bust. But the sun going down behind the Ananda Samakhon Throne Hall was almost worth the trip.

R.O.U.S. I know it's a bad shot but trust me, they do exists!

Asiatic Sun Bear

The Anaconda...so huge!

Gluttony

The Jersey Shore of Thailand

One week of teaching under our belts and the ladies and I plopped down with the other teachers from the high school at the shack outside the school gates and we didn’t move till closing. The next day we were up early and standing on the side of the road with our bags flagging down cabs or vans to try and find a beach called Cha-am. We grabbed a taxi to the nearest civilized area where we met a policeman who just told us to sit. He made a van appear out of nowhere and ushered us on to it. An hour and a half later we were in what I’m going to say is the Thai equivalent to the Jersey Shore. Note: this statement is complete speculation as I’ve never been to Jersey and I’ve made it a personal goal to never see an episode of the reality series. We were told to expect a lot of looks because this area is more of a vacation hangout for the Thais from Bangkok and the surrounding providences and farangs don’t usually visit the area. What we weren’t told was that this is also a hotspot for the mafia and motorcycle gangs. At all hours of the night you could see and hear hundreds of motorcycles, crotch-rockets and scooters-on-steroids. They seemed to enjoy the one stretch of road that is worth seeing in Cha-am and of course that was the road all the hostels were on.

The mafia was a bit harder to spot but I like to think they were the groups of old guys shitfaced at noon sitting on the steps outside street vendors or 7/11s, yelling and making all kinds of ruckus. I swear they were even wearing bowler hats.

Strip of road across from the beach

The girls and I dropped our bags off at the first cheap hostel we found then walked across the street to the beach. We had been walking for about two minutes when we ran into other OEGers who we chatted with till I noticed the used Q-Tip I was sitting on. Looking around, the beach was filthy. Bottles, glass, bottle caps, trash of all kids was everywhere. We retreated to the pool at the hotel our OEG friends were staying at for the remainder of the afternoon.

We had a simple night. It’s the off season for Cha-am so the crazy Jersey town we were told would keep us up all night actually lulled us into a daze as the sun went down. We grabbed street food then plopped down at one of the beach tables to eat. We sat at the first table for all of five minutes before a woman who has never heard the term "toothbrush" came to stare us into giving her 100 baht so we could sit at the table. We got up and moved maybe 100 feet and were not disturbed for the rest of the evening.

When the sun was gone some of the Thai people sitting around us brought over some candles for our table. The sunset and the sound of the waves accented the magical image candlelight seems to always limn. All night long we commented on the reality of being on a beach in Thailand and how many more beach nights there are to come.

The overpass we were thrown under

Getting to Cha-am had gone a little too smoothly as far as traveling in Thailand goes. We made up for it on the trip back. First we did a nice loop of Cha-am's main road to find a van station to take us back to Samut Sahkon. When we finally found one he still had no idea where we wanted to go. Jenna and S were sitting up front and they pointed at a sign on the highway overpass that was the exit for Samut Sahkon. The driver got all excited, nodding and laughing, and decided to just pull over and dump us under the overpass. We hopped the guard railings and played a quick game of Frogger (points lost for the wicked bruise on my knee from not jumping high enough on guardrails) to get to the other side of the street. We practically jumped onto the first cab we saw. This cab was driven by the Thai dopple-ganger of Morgan Freeman. Mr. Freeman refused to shift out of first gear so we went about 15-20 mph down the highway while he turned up the radio. "Chopin! You know Chopin?" Oh yes, Morgan Freeman knew his classics. Jenna and I were in tears from trying to hide our laughter. H, who was sitting up front directing Mr. Freeman, could only shake her head at him while doing some kind of Thai sign language to get us home, the only form of communication us farang know. Never a dull moment when traveling in Thailand. 

Bradley versus the mini Thais: Round 1

Elf is the little guy looking straight at you. My favorite.

 

I wasn’t really nervous for my first day of class. I’d been shadowing other teachers for about a week and it didn’t look that difficult. The kids were rowdy, as expected since they are 3 and 4 year olds, but they looked eager and, dare I say, fun.

So I walked into my first class, filled with energy, smiles and a CD filled with the likes of “The Wheels on the Bus” and “The Hokey Pokey.” The kids have been trained in earlier classes in the traditional greeting for the start of their lesson so I started with that.

“Good morning, class!” I beamed.

Silence.

“Good morning, class,” I said with a bit less gusto.

Nose picking. One girl in the back may have actually snored with her head in her arms on her desk. The Thai homeroom teacher then literally screamed something in Thai and I got a response from a few of them.

My first solo shift at the coffee shop I use to work at ended with the espresso grinder breaking with a line of people out the door. Staring at those kids, all I could think about was how much I would have loved to take on a broken grinder instead of these guys. My lesson plan was full of greeting games that I had thought would let the students see I was this cool teacher they would bond with and love and because they loved me we would have a great semester were they would learn tons and I would be the best teacher they ever had. All I got were crickets.

Luckily Neil, the head English teacher who had been at the school for seven years, had accompanied me to the class for some moral support. He got the kids moving and helped me with the introductions. The lesson plan got thrown out the window and I spent the next thirty minutes trying to pronounce names like “Preaw” and “GuayTeow”. I believe I’ve mentioned before how the Thais can’t grasp the concept of Roman letters so these names are actually pronounced “Prell” and Goodie-ow.” Neil was a lifesaver.

I repeated the same process in all of my classes that day, quickly spotting the star students and the troublemakers. One kid is aptly named “Erk”. He refuses to do anything I tell him and the only English he knows is “Teecha, go away.” Wonder where he learned that one.

Jenna’s day also went something like this. She is teaching in the nursery, where they don’t talk or read or stand up much.

“I ran out of things to do after ten minutes,” she told me. “They just sat there looking at me. Johnson (the teacher giving her moral support) emptied a bucket filled with balls and we spent twenty minutes congratulating the kids for putting the balls back in the bucket.” Oh, the joys of the kindergarten.

The first day was the worst. The rest of the week went by in repetition as I drilled the kids in what the teachers wanted me to teach them in English. The school runs much the same as private schools in America run. Every morning there is an essembly of all the students where we sing the national anthem and raise the flag. Then the Thai teachers sing a song for the kids followed by the American teachers and Chinese teachers. The nursery and K1 kids get a nap in the afternoon. In fact, everyone gets a nap during the day if they want to. The head of the kindergarten English department (not to be confused with Pete at the high school) regularly puts her head down on her desk and naps away the afternoon. It's the same with the Chinese teachers. I'll have to try it soon.

I’ll save my critic of the Thai educational system for another entry as that rant would be far to long to include here. I will just add that I’m trying to not feel like an incompetent teacher because I’m not allowed to teach in a way that is effective for the students. Very frustrating. But then the kids sit on my lap during story time or give me a kiss or wave in the halls screaming “Teecha!” and my heart melts a bit.

May I please have a smoking elephant?

Jenny sent me some pictures of the elephant trekking so this post can finally go up! Travel back in time about three weeks ago. The whole OEG group is still at orientation. We had just been dropped off at this beautiful resort with private balconies and two pools and a view of the river where everyone sang karaoke way too late into the evening…

I was told by an OEG alum that riding an elephant was like off-roading with no shock absorbers while the car is stuck in first gear. This description is quite accurate. So when we awoke after a late night no one was feeling great, even those who snuck to bed early, and the prospect of swinging around on an elephant at 7:30 in the morning suddenly didn’t sound so appealing. These feelings evaporated the moment the bus pulled into Taweechai Elephant Camp and everyone spied the baby elephant strutting around the pen near the driveway. We darted off the bus and started snapping hundreds of photos while he posed for us. Then I turned around and saw a massive elephant move inches past me on the way to the boarding platform.

“What to share an elephant with me?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I replied.

We migrated with the rest of the group to these huge platforms where you do your best to climb onto the elephant. I wouldn’t recommend a skirt in this situation, as there is no graceful way to board an elephant. It’s mostly a jump/pull sort of motion followed by a frantic search for the railings of your chair because you feel as though you’re going to fall and get stomped on any minute.  Without warning we were off.

Elephants are a lot like the Thais in that they don’t keep to any lanes or speed limits. They seem to enjoy running into each other. They are also thoughtful, like the Thais; one girl dropped her camera and our elephant went right over, picked it up with his trunk and handed it up to our driver.

Our driver was a small Thai man who didn’t say much in the beginning. His mouth is a disgusting palate of blood red, a side affect of eating the local stimulant betel plant. He looks like a zombie munching on someone’s innards. He warmed up to us after a while, getting off the elephant so Jenny and I could take turns riding on the neck. The elephant can feel when your balance is shifting too much to one side and holds your legs to his neck using his ears. Very thoughtful.

There is a chaotically blissful cacophony of American voices all around us. We are all taking pictures of each other, waving to others as their elephant speeds by. I look over to my left at my friend Allison and we start laughing like children who just discovered chocolate. Then she lights a smoke. I’m about to tell her that probably isn’t the smartest idea when I see her passing them out to all the guides on their elephants. I tap mine on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, can I smoke on the elephant?”

“Cheyeah!” was his reply.

After that I sort of left the boundaries of everything I’m comfortable and use to. It wasn’t the normal culture shock feeling I’d been dealing with but something else. I was moving into the realm of the completely absurd. It was so absurd I was sure this wasn’t really happening (remember, still a little dazed form jetlag at this point.) I’m swaying on the back of this mammoth beast with a barefoot, red mouthed zombie dude as my guide. Absurd.

Then we moved into a clearing and the elephants waddled into the river. They started filling their trunks with water, drinking and splashing, getting us wet. I looked around and noticed the mountains densely covered in trees and shrouded in fog. The experience becomes real: I’m on the other side of the world in a jungle smoking a cigarette on an elephant. Cross that one off the bucket list.

The Gentle Art of Thai Massage...

This pose symbolizes the Buddha when he reached Nirvana.

We headed into Bangkok for the final hoorah before we became real teachers in charge of our own group of munchkin Thais. It would appear that most of OEGers had the same idea, as the hostel we stayed at was mostly rented out to OEG. I was there to meet up with the lovely Jenny, my previous roommate at orientation. We spent the day at the weekend market but it’s so massive you could probably spend weeks in the market. After that we headed to Wat Pho. Wat Pho is famous for housing the statue of the reclining Buddha. It lives up to its title; it’s a huge golden statue of the Buddha chilling on a pile of pillows looking relaxed. I was debating whether or not to even bring my camera in this temple but in the end I gave in and snapped some photos. So far, the Buddha seems pleased with my offering from the Grand Palace.

The next day before check out we decided it was time to try the infamous Thai massage. After two weeks of sleeping on a wooden bed, sitting in my office at school for 4 hours everyday, and weekends walking around all of Thailand what I really need was someone to really work out the knots and kinks in my shoulders and lower back.

Thailand is famous it’s massage parlors. In most neighborhoods in central Bangkok you can find them on almost every street so it wasn’t long before we were sitting in a chair getting our feet scrubbed by an angry looking Thai woman. She scrubbed away for a minute, dried them and then led me upstairs to a room where there were about 6 mats on the floor. I had expected this, as one of my friend had warned me before I came that the Thai massages happened on the floor in full view of the five other people in the room with you. Jenny and I were the only ones in the parlor at the time so we lucked out a bit. Next they gave us a light green shirt to put on and the largest pair of dark green pants I have ever seen. This should have been my first warning. After all, how does one use massage oils when I have clothes on?

I laid on the ground and my angry Thai woman came back and took her aggression out on my poor body.

It was an odd experience. At first I thought she was just warming up, pounding the feet lightly to get the blood flowing, hey that pressure point feels nice, okay that one’s a little more painful, perhaps you don’t have to hold it that long, up goes my leg, okay it could use a little stretch, um, I don’t think it bends that wa…oh, ok guess it does but it might snap off in a sec…hiyo! Where are your hands going?

I’m sure it resembles rolfing (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rolfing) a lot but to me it felt like I hadn’t done Yoga in months and someone was contorting my body into the positions for me while I laid there helpless, I mean motionless. And they really aren’t afraid to put their hands in places that would make a masseuse in the States blush or worry about a lawsuit; plus their bodies are quite entwined with yours. My favorite stretch came when she lifted my leg and bent the knee at 90 degrees and put one foot on my cheek and the other on my hamstring and pulled my ankle towards her slowly. It was interesting.

While it wasn’t the relaxing experience I was really looking forward it I did walk away from the experience feel great. My body felt straighter and more in sync that it had in days. With all my muscles and ligaments moved back into their correct position I returned to the school dorms to get an almost good night sleep before my first day of classes. 

Travel like the Thais

All the taxis are Toyota Corollas and almost all of them are
bright pink.

I’m a person who has what you might call “power issues.” Some will say I’m a bit neurotic, others will say it’s a control thing that seems to run in the family. Power issues are probably the more accurate term. I like to make sure I know how I’m getting somewhere, what I’m going to teach, what I'm commenting on, etc. I find a type of personal confidence in knowing I have the ability to do whatever needs to be done without assistance, especially if assistance is hard to come by. So getting acclimated to the public transportation system of Thailand has been stressful and strange. It’s not at as hard to move around Thailand as I first thought. I spent an hour studying the different maps and studying Wikitravel to find the major bus stations in Bangkok that will take you all over Thailand. I’ve spent enough time exploring central Bangkok that I feel as though I can recognize the names of all the stops on the subway and sky train. Getting to Bangkok and moving around there can be easy but getting anywhere else in Thailand can be problematic.

Last week Leah, Mia and I needed to get on a bus to take us to Bangkok. No one in Leah’s province spoke English well enough to understand we were saying. Finally we went to a scooter taxi stand and, not hoping for much, said “Krungtemp?” Krungtemp is the abbreviated Thai name for Bangkok.

There was a little chatter, then I pulled out my map of Bangkok and pointed to the place we need to get to.

Tuk Tuks are a lot of fun but the drivers are
not trust worthy. As a Farang, they will charge
me a lot more and they will always try and take
me anywhere except where I want to go.

“Ok. Sit.” One of them said. And so we popped down in the shanty that was the scooter taxi stand and the drivers walked to the road and started flagging vehicles down. He flagged down a few vans and then just stopped a bus and said “This.” He and his taxi buddies wouldn’t except money for their services but they kindly excepted cigarettes (Thais can get very strange about money so cigarettes have been a key factor in my negotiating skills or as a way to say thank you.) Unless you are at a bus station, flagging down the bus in the middle of the street is the normal way one gets on a bus in Thailand.

In almost any travelling I’ve been doing there has been a similar scenario. I have to ask a Thai person who doesn’t speak any English how to get here. They almost never understand me yet somehow, magically almost, they always get me there.

 All day long Thais are leading me, grabbing my arm, pushing me or waving me onto some bus or into some taxi or into a boat or onto a scooter taxi. All I can do is sit and hope that they are taking me to where I need to be. I believe this experience is called “faith.”  Faith and I do not have a good track record, both religiously and with people. It appears it will be the most challenging difficulty to overcome during my stay. I’m blaming all this in my power issues and I’m finding that these issues will quite literally get me nowhere in Thailand. There is no other choice but to trust the people here to get me moving. It’s one of the best qualities I’ve come across here; it’s a land filled with people who are always making sure you aren’t too lost. 

The Chao Phraya Express is the river taxi service. It's the
hardest way to travel but one of my favorites.

Recently I got lost finding the nearby squat hole. I encounter a barefoot homeless Thai on the corner who started yelling and banging on the corroded stand he was sitting on when he saw me wandering around wondering which stall to get into. I danced in and out of the bathroom because he was screaming at me every time I entered. I didn’t know if it was the men’s room or if it was broken or what. In the end, he walked over and flipped a switch I hadn’t even noticed. The homeless Thai just wanted to make sure I didn’t pee in the dark (he got two cigarettes.)