The Local Scenery

A view from the river taxi
A wat (monastary and temple)
The best view I could get of the Grand Palace; notice the Khmer-style Prang (the obvious phalluses in the picture) and the Stupa (the golden spires which seem to be everywhere in Bangkok)
Part of a wat
Buddha in the meditation pose (Dhyanamudra)

Wai Kru

I don't think my tone will quite portray the awe I feel regarding this topic.

Thursday morning at school we had a Wai Kru ceremony which is held every year at schools in Thailand. The Wai Kru ceremony is when the students pay respect to their teachers. They do this partly to thank their teachers for teaching them well in the past, but also to gain merit and good fortune for the future.

Unlike teacher appreciation day/week in the states (which usually seems to be run by the PTA), the students organized and planned this assembly in their Thai and Chinese classes, where they made a power point presentation explaining Wai Kru and made the flower arrangements that were given to the teachers.

During the ceremony, all the students must stay lower than the teachers to show respect. The whole student body, preK through 12, sat on the floor in the assembly hall/gym and the teachers sat in chairs. Teachers were called up front where they were given an apple by the administrator (reflecting Western culture), flowers from the students (Thai culture), and teachers gave crackers to the students (which represented Confucius and the Chinese culture).

The part that was most impressive was the presentation of the flowers. Student representatives from each of the homerooms presented the flowers. To the left of the teachers, students were grouped and waited in a kneeling position to bring the flowers forward. A few students at a time scooted forward on their knees with the flower arrangement in their hands. Once they formed a line in front of the teachers, they set the flowers down and wai'd to us. A wai (pronounced why) is when people place their hands together in front of their chest or forehead and bow their heads to show respect. The placement of the hands shows varying degrees of respect. This special wai at the ceremony is the highest form of respect. Students sat on their bottoms with their feet splayed behind them, arranged their hands in the folded position and bowed forward, prostrate on the ground with their arms extended out in front of them. They stayed like this for a moment before getting back up on their knees and scooting forward to give us the flowers. This is one of the ways the young are taught humility in Thailand.

Needless to say, this gesture left an indelible impression on me.

The flowers used in the arrangements are symbolic. Dok Ma Khue (eggplant flower) stands for respect because when the tree is blooming its branches bend down in the same way a student pays respect to their teacher. Ya Praek (Bermuda grass) stands for patience or perseverance because although the grass looks wilted it is still very much alive. Khao Tok (popped rice) stands for discipline because the rice is placed in a pan together and heated up to become popped rice. The Dok Kem has the same name as the Thai word for needle. So it means the student will be sharp-witted and brainy.

I kinda like the symbolism.

Kanchanaburi

the view

the elephant massage
Sunny, Daylin, and their new friend
Bridge over the River Kwai
water lily

Venturing out of the city...

Our little hut.

This weekend was the unofficial staff bonding trip. I had planned on attending, but then I reconsidered. Even though Koh Samet used to be a really cheap place to travel, it isn’t as cheap anymore. The island is beautiful, but I didn’t feel like lounging in the tropics (without a boy to really enjoy it with—beach, sand, and sun do strange things to me) so I opted to go to Kanchanaburi with Mike, Sunny, and Daylin (her nine year old son). I miss my nieces and nephews and was looking forward to being silly with a kid for a weekend. Sunny and Daylin are from Canada and Mike is from California. The last two years they all lived in Taiwan and two years before that they were in Guatemala. Listening to them talk about where they have lived before was entertaining.

Thursday after school we hopped on a bus to Kanchanaburi, which is about two hours north east of Bangkok, cozily nestled on the River Kwai. A relatively small town, Kanchanaburi is very different from the hustle and bustle of Bangkok. Much quieter and very relaxing. We found a little guest house on the river and crashed. After a good night’s rest, Daylin was the first to wake up and on his way out the door to explore his surroundings, he spied a lizard in the room. Of course this roused the adults out of bed and caused a rearrange-the-room search for the little rascal. We looked all over the place but could not find it. (Mike eventually found him in his pants pocket Sunday after he had returned home! It was still alive, biding its time eating pocket lint.)

At breakfast, we were deciding what to do and we met B, one of the ubiquitous tour guides in Thailand. I had heard about the tour guides but this was my first experience with a real, live one. They are kind of like a blood tick; once they latch on to you, they are difficult to remove. She was actually very nice, but her persistence went beyond irritating. The first time you hear, “Special price, just for you,” it sounds pretty sweet, but the tenth time you hear it, you want to scream. Especially when she was trying to sell us something we didn’t want. We arranged a long-tailed boat ride on the River Kwai. B took us to the boat in what I would call a Thai golf cart; a motorcycle with a side cart that had a floor, a roof, and an L shaped bench attached to it. It was kind of rickety; she told me where to sit to ensure even weight distribution.

The boat ride was a mellow trip along the river. We saw the famous Bridge over the River Kwai (you may have seen or heard about the movie http://imdb.com/title/tt0050212/) and passed several floating party boats. At nine-thirty in the morning, the passengers on the party boats (more or less pontoons the size of a dance hall) were rocking and rolling with dance music and beers in hand.

We went to the Koapoon Cave Temple by boat. This was an interesting concept. A cave, complete with stalagmites and stalactites and a golden reclining Buddha. I don’t know how they fit the Buddha into the cave because there were times when squeezing through the tiny apertures throughout the cave were quite an ordeal. Duck, squeeze, squat down, crawl…it was a workout. Our Thai tour guide, who was about fifteen years old, seemed to put his hands on me every chance he had. He was the most tactile Thai I have met since I’ve been here. At one point, he was trying to situate me on a ledge next to an alligator rock formation and he tried to lift me up under the arms and scoot me to where he thought I should be for a photo op. I laughed at his feeble attempt. Sunny thought it was pretty funny, too. Being in a country where the absence of human touch is the norm, it was especially awkward to be manhandled by an adolescent.

After our trek through the cave, we headed back to our guest house for a little nap. Later in the afternoon, B picked us up again in her little Thai golf cart and took us to a songtow (a truck with benches along the bed and a roof—not an enclosed cab, just a roof). I do believe this kind of travel is illegal in Virginia. But so is riding a motorcycle without a helmet. Anyway, the tiger temple was only about twenty minutes away. This is actually a forest monastery. The monks take in orphaned tigers and other animals that are in need of nurturing. There are about eleven tigers in the canyon, a large rock formation that encircles the tigers that are just hanging out, chained to posts but not in cages. Huge tigers. Many more attendants were present than there were tigers, which I guess was supposed to make us feel safe. As I was waiting my turn, I watched each person being fed…I mean led to the tigers. Only once did I hear a tiger roar, immediately after which Mike was led to that very tiger to pose for a picture with him; I think he was a wee bit frightened. As I was being led by the hand to the tigers, I found myself thinking that at any moment one of these seemingly tame cats could decide to maul me. Jump right up and tear me to pieces. I tentatively knelt next to a big kitty for a picture; do I need to say that I was scared to death? Despite this fear, I dared to put my hand out and laid it on the feline’s rump, but only briefly. I caught a glimpse of one the cat’s rather large teeth…the better to eat me with. My heart beat ratcheted up a notch or ten while I was in such close proximity with these beautiful but monstrous creatures. Daylin even posed for a picture sitting on top of a tiger. His mom couldn’t watch for fear.

After everyone had his or her pictures taken with the tigers in the canyon, all but one of the potentially ferocious beasts were led out by the attendants. The last one was led by the monk. We then had the option of walking with the tiger. This was a rather imposing task as the tiger was no longer chained, just walking calmly beside you like a golden retriever or some other ambling domestic animal. We were given three rules to follow: no loud noises, lay one hand on the tiger’s rump so it knows you are there, and ladies, do not touch the monk. This struck me as slightly comical—touch the tiger but don’t lay a finger on the monk.

I thought this was the end of our adventure at the tiger temple but I was mistaken. After the tigers were put into cages a fair distance away from the canyon, some men came along with large rucksacks of corn on the cob. They threw the bags down on the ground so hard that they split open and then the men whistled. All of a sudden animals were running from every direction. A virtual stampede, pigs, horses, cows, roosters, peacocks, water buffalo, goats, and deer all made their way to the corn. While they were feasting, we walked casually through the animals as if they were merely people milling about a train station. I’ve visited farms before and been to parks with animals, but this was a totally different experience. Perhaps the lack of fences made it unique to me. All I could think about was how I wish Daniel, Hannah, Lizam, and Abby (especially Abby with her penchant for animals) could be there with me to see it.


Later in the evening, after a delicious Thai dinner complete with wine, we all had hour long massages, even little Daylin. I had a neck and back massage while everyone else opted for foot massages. This was the best massage I have had so far in Thailand. Not painful and not intrusive. Just out and out wonderful. Afterwards, we were all served a cup of tea. And then I went to bed and slept soundly.

Saturday morning we headed out to the floating market. We were under the impression that the floating market was nearby. So when we climbed into the back of the songtow, we were not expecting a ninety minute ride in the bed of a truck. My hair was a mess at the end of it all and felt like hay right out of a pig sty, gritty and gross. We had paid B for the outing before we left which was 490 baht per person. When we arrived at the klong to get on the boat, we were asked for another 500 baht per person. We were not in the best of moods, as we had just spent an hour and a half riding in the bed of a pickup truck, and we felt scammed. Big time. B could tell we were upset and somehow the price of the boat ride was miraculously slashed to 250 baht per person, but we still felt like we had been had. The brochure said that the price of the trip included the boat ride and B had made it all “special price.” Yeah, a real special price. But since we had traveled all that way, and we had a nine year old with us who had been pretty patient during the ride up, we went ahead with the boat ride anyway. Riding in the boat was the best part—it reminded me of Venice; Angelo steering us through the canals on the gondola. That was where the similarity ended though. The shopping was actually pretty useless and touristy. I have seen much nicer crafts and better quality items at the street markets.

We headed back to Kanchanaburi, but only after being taken to a couple different places. We really just wanted to head back, but B tried to tempt us to spend more money on a visit to an elephant show and a woodworking shop. It was easier to just submit and do as she said. We did not pay the entrance fee into the elephant place, but there was an elephant by the parking lot that Daylin was able to play with. The elephant did all sorts of tricks and even gave Daylin a massage. If given the chance, would you lay down for an elephant to massage your back with its immense trunk?

After another ninety minute ride in the truck, I was ready for a treat. Back in Kanchanaburi, I treated myself to a facial. I lay on the table and had all sorts of lotions, soaps, exfoliants, and powder lavished all over my face. Afterwards, my face felt baby smooth and I was refreshed.

We returned to Bangkok and had dinner at Senor Picos. Muy deliciouso. I enjoyed some sangria and enchiladas. For all I knew, I could have been at La Tolteca in Williamsburg. There was also a Cuban band playing which helped create a festive atmosphere. This was a fabulous ending to a wonderful weekend excursion.
Scratching under the chin is always a good gesture
The floating party boats
The elephant massage
Not one but two!

Pictures

Long-tailed boat
Keeping an eye on that tiger...
Getting eats from the floating market
Feeding the stampede
In the cave

More Pictures

Huge water buffalo (I think)
The floating market
The Thai version of a gold cart
Good kitty
Floating market

Big Brother

For me, today was further justification for not watching television. I was sound asleep in my bed, safe and comfortable, when the news hit America that a coup had ousted the current prime minister in Thailand. Clips were shown on CNN of tanks rolling in the streets of Bangkok. A single clip or two of some tanks and soldiers in a part of town far removed from me. Down by the river, a part of town I haven't even been to yet. All at once, relatives throughout the Western Hemisphere were anxious and worried about their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters teaching abroad in Thailand.

The media once again distorted the truth by exaggerating it. Yes, schools, banks, and the stockmarket were shut down today (how do you close the stockmarket?) but everything will resume tomorrow. The prime minister is not revered like the king is; now if something had happened to the king, then all hell would probably break loose.

Today was like a snow day, without the snow. A coup day, if you will.

The thing that affected me the most, though, is how controlled communication is in Thailand. The phone tree was enacted at 1:30 in the morning because in the past (I'm guessing before everyone had cell phones) telephone lines have been cut to deter communication. CNN and BBC were pulled from the television this morning. The local news channels were not reporting the situation either, instead they were displaying pictures of the king and queen, playing the national anthem. The government in the past has also blocked certain sites on the internet from everyone in the country. Big brother is definitely watching.

Fortunately, I could get on line today and read the news on CNN. When I went to the restaurant in my building, the news was on the television and some of the military officials were speaking. Albeit they were speaking in Thai, but the coverage was being aired and that in itself was comforting.

I don't condone the over-reporting that goes on in America, but I do have a greater appreciation now for the freedom of speech and the (seeming) lack of censorship.

Cabbages and Condoms

Late afternoon on Saturday, I called Courtney, the librarian at my school, and asked her if she wanted to go to dinner. She said sure. I asked her if she wanted a simple dinner or if she was up for an adventure. "How big of an adventure?" was her skeptical reply (she knows me too well, and so soon). Previously we had talked before about trying out Cabbages and Condoms and since I knew where it was, getting there at least would not be the adventuresome part of the evening.


Some of you may have heard of this restaurant before, as I hear it has been featured on different travel television shows. It is a unique experience, and if any of you happen to visit, plan on dining here during your stay in Thailand!

I'm not exactly sure where the cabbages fit into this moniker, but there is no doubt about the condoms. The profits made by the restaurant go to support AIDS awareness and family planning. The location of Cabbages and Condoms is on a quiet soi (side street) nestled in a rather large garden, which is more like a small jungle. Large palm fronds strung with white Christmas lights envelop the eatery. Walking down the path, we were greeted by a (much) larger than life penis made out of condoms. It was hanging for the rafters and reminded me of a Zeppelin floating in the sky. Before we made it to the hostess stand, there were some villagers from up north who were selling handmade jewelry; profits went to help women in need. Jewelry and supporting a good cause? You didn't have to ask me twice.

After shopping, we were seated upstairs at an outdoor table. Courtney ordered a Blue Condom; it was adorned with a purple orchid, a cherry, and a pineapple wedge. Almost too pretty to drink. From the way she relished each sip, I'm guessing that it did not have that unpleasant rubber aftertaste. Dinner was tasty, Thai food with an American slant. And very affordable. Garlic minced chicken with roasted corn in waffle cups with a leaf of cilantro for appetizer ($2.50). Chicken and potato sweet curry with rice ($6). Grilled salmon with sweet chili sauce and spicy papaya salad ($8). When the bill came, instead of a mint, we each received, yes, a condom. A very nice touch.

And for dessert, a fifteen minute foot massage ($1.60). I think that this was the best part. We had to move to the Captain Condom Lounge downstairs, where we were met by some very pleasant ladies from Issan (Northern Thailand, I think) who sat us in cozy chairs and began to work. It seemed like much longer than fifteen minutes. After a quick wash in warm water, our feet and calves were slathered in a scented lotion and then rubbed, kneaded, stretched, slapped, and pulled. Very relaxing.

I've decided that getting a foot massage after dinner might be better that any confection I could eat. And fewer calories, too.

Traffic laws...what traffic laws?

Why there aren't more fatalities on the streets in Bangkok is an enigma to me. I took my first motorcycle ride the other day. Even though this is the fastest and cheapest way to get anywhere, I have been avoiding the moto scene because quite frankly, I had my doubts about whether these little scooters could hold my weight. I imagined climbing on the back of one and having it upended, throwing the petite Thai man into the air to crash somewhere behind me. You think I'm exaggerating? Well, in two different fiction novels, Son of a Circus and Bangkok 8, I read accounts of large Americans (although most farangs could be considered large over here) taking motorcycles and the descriptions make it sound like the centripetal force is compromised when the weight distribution is so top heavy. My fears seemed to be confirmed when the first time I tried to hail a moto, there was a spattering of laughter amongst the many drivers, all crowded around their money-making machines, joking in Thai, and pointing at me, at each other. I imagined them saying, "No, you take her. I want to keep my bike in one piece!" I turned around, shamefaced, and walked quickly in the other direction.

I mustered up enough courage the other day when I had to go to the mall, which is about two miles away. There were only a couple of drivers out front by the entrance to my apartment, so the laughter wasn't as formidable. I climbed on and held on, tight. He sped off and as he turned onto the main road going against the one-way traffic, I had to bury my face in his back. (Feel free to insert your expletive of choice here, because at the time, there was a litany of them going through my mind.) The driver paid no attention to my arms wrapped around his waist or to my knees pressing into his thighs with surprising force, holding on for dear life. I had been warned to keep my knees in because when the dare-devil drivers weave through cars and squeeze through narrow spots, they don't always take your long legs into consideration. The rule of thumb seemed to be don't stop for any reason. Being that we were traveling into the traffic instead of with it, this involved erratic swerving, driving on the sidewalk, turning down side streets and making u-turns. Over speed bumps, through cars stopped at intersections, traversing uneven pavement (this scared me the most...I was reminded of my Baypoint three speed biking accidents, sliding on gravel and crashing). All the while, I held on to this man the way my nephew clings to his mother when meeting strangers. I was told later by a seasoned farang that you aren't supposed to touch the driver; there is a metal bar behind the seat that you are supposed to hold onto. What the hell! NOT hold on? I'm crazy, but not that crazy. Besides, he didn't seem to mind.

After such a harrowing experience, I was most surprised to be delivered safely to my destination. I might even do it again. Maybe.
Or I could just take the bus. The wooden floors are quite charming. Whenever I am on the bus, I keep expecting to see chickens clucking around and somehow magically being transported to Cartagena.

From the teacher's perspective...

My students are voracious readers, a fact that automatically earns my respect. Sometimes, they ask if they can read for the whole period and it pains me to have to say no to them. (My principal told me that twice she was going to come into my classroom, but the students were reading so quietly she didn’t want to disturb the class…hmmm, this could be useful). In addition to reading a novel written in English, many of them are also reading a book in Thai or Chinese. I am amazed by their capacity to sit there and just read, a feat in itself for many adults.

I devote much time in class to word acquisition. Since I am a word nerd, some would say I over estimate the importance of learning new words. Of course this priority is not mine alone; it part of the overall objectives that some retired administrator somewhere with a PhD in education prescribed. What impresses me is how hard the students work to actually learn the words.

Many of the students have “talking dics”—picture my face when I heard that one in class.
Student: I can’t find my talking dic.
Me: Can’t find your WHAT?
I understand that change is inevitable, but I am old fashioned in that I prefer the paper kind of dictionaries where you turn pages instead of punch in letters and read the results off of a screen. Times are a’changing. Anyway, whatever works for the little scholars. The thing is, they use these little computers all the time. Their faces are glued to this miniscule contraption that quickly finds English, Thai and Chinese definitions for them. If they still don’t understand the definition after consulting their talking friend, they ask a classmate. Oftentimes, students explain definitions to each other in their mother tongue. I am supposed to take off points for talking in another language, but for the sake of comprehension, I let that one slide. If they still don’t understand, then they ask me.

If you are not a teacher, this might seem normal to you. In your own life, if you don’t have a handle on something, you find a way to grasp the new concept. What you don’t understand is that I am used to a vast majority of kids who don’t really care to comprehend, they just want to complete. Get through, be done with it, finish. Watching this struggle to actually understand something as simple as a new word is kind of novel. It is a conscientiousness I am unaccustomed to (except for a few cases, like Kara Drechsel).

The students internalize the words and use them in their writing without being prompted. Of course, that is the whole point. I just appreciate that this is actually realized. I don’t know if you can imagine how happy it makes me to hear a 7th grade, non-native English speaker in the company of his or her peers say, “Something is amiss in the classroom” or “I can’t stop doing it because it’s habitual” (note: reprimanding him further for his actions was nearly impossible because he had so expertly used a new vocabulary word; word acquisition could totally undermine my classroom management…but it might be worth it).

I don’t want to paint a perfect picture here. I do have some kids who struggle; but they are actually struggling—not sitting their passively waiting for failure. For some, the level of comprehension is greatly reduced because of the language barrier. But they still try. They question and search until they find a way to make it theirs. They want to earn it. That is what impresses me the most.

Etcetera...

Thursday afternoon, I came home from school and noticed that I had no power. The usual glacial breeze that greets me when I open the door to my apartment was not there. This did not bode well as I had a ton of things to do before I went away for the weekend, and I was supposed to go on a date later in the evening. I tried to figure out why my power was out; I hadn't even been in the apartment a month so I didn't think it was because I hadn't paid the bill. Then I vaguely recalled a piece of paper that I found in my mailbox. It looked like junk mail, a piece of paper written in Thai, folded over and stapled; I had put it in my teacher bag (read: black hole) to take to school for one of the teachers-who-know-Thai to read for me, just to make sure it wasn't a bill. That was two weeks ago and I forgot all about it.

So, I called my landlady. She called the security guard downstairs to check on things. When she called me back, she told me that I must have not paid the bill. I was instructed to take 350 Baht (about $10) downstairs to the security guard, and he would find someone to take care of it for me. This sounded pretty strange to me; just go downstairs and hand this guy some money. How would he know how to pay Dominion Power...I mean whatever the electric company is here? All I know is that ten minutes later, my power was restored. Another lesson learned: don't be late with the power bill. There is no month grace period like in the states.
I went to buy a few things today since I was paid on Thursday. I needed some more beverage glasses, end tables, a kitchen table and chairs. This was an interesting experience since my Thai has not progressed any further than hello and thank you. Making purchases that need to be delivered offers a whole other set of problems. The first lady spoke some English so that worked okay. The next lady spoke zero English. Picture it: me, speaking slow and plain English, using hand gestures that seem obvious and her speaking Thai as clear as a bell. We spoke as if the other person would miraculously understand the other. She had no idea that I needed to have the two end tables delivered and I couldn't figure out a hand gesture. I wonder if giddy-up would have worked? Fingers walking didn't work. I showed her my address, but it was written in English so that wasn't much help. I ended up going back to the other store and asking the other sales lady how to say "delivery." She couldn't tell me, but she did give me the order form where she took my order and it had Thai and English on it so I was able to take it to the other place and let her see what I needed. It was all clear after that. I should have all my purchases within the week.
This past weekend we went on a staff-bonding trip to Rayong beach. This is not one of the more opulent beaches in Thailand; it kind of had a Hotel California feel to it. The beach looked man-made with rocks that were obviously placed there piled up at regular intervals. Not much of a beach. The great part about the weekend was that it was absolutely free, so I can't really complain. We took a two hour bus ride Friday right after school. There was a quiet bus for teachers with children (isn't this an oxymoron?) and a noisy bus, I guess for the drinkers. I took the quiet bus because I wanted to read and because I felt bad for the teachers with kids who seemed to be banned to solitude, as if parents with kids don't have any fun? Anyway, we had a relaxing weekend with a lot of free time. There were some "staff bonding" activities Saturday morning, and a dinner with a variety show afterwards that was highly entertaining.

I spent a lot of time poolside, reading, and two hours at a massage parlor across the street. I wanted to try it a second time some where different to see if there were any new techniques. There were a couple. This was the kind of place where the women sit behind a window and you pick which one you want to massage you. Seems a little sketchy, huh? I saw something similar on an A&E special on red light districts. Despite the sketchy setup, the massage was more or less just like the other one; this woman walked on my back a lot more though. Even though there were slight variations, it was still pretty invasive. I could do without the inner thigh action. From now on, I am going to stick to foot, back and shoulder massages.

A book recommendation for those of you interested in Thailand: Bangkok 8 is a murder mystery by John Burdette that has bunches of cultural information about the area. The main character is a Thai cop whose mother is a prostitute who was impregnated by an American solider during the Vietnam war. A female American FBI agent comes over to help solve the case and there is some culture crash between her and the Buddhist cop. An interesting read with quite a lot about Buddhism and the sex trade in it, too.

Last night for dinner I went to Crepe & Co. Fabulous. I had a Norwegian crepe--cubed salmon with sour cream and chives. Dinner was served with both a knife and fork (as opposed to the usual Thai setting of a spoon and fork). I had a Nutella crepe for dessert and a nice glass of chardonnay. The place is run by a Greek guy. I am enjoying all of these swishy and chic little restaurants. A food lover's paradise.