Travel Excerpts: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

"The next day, Haley and I set out to do the activity that pull rock-climbing travelers from all over the world to Railay. Its limestone formations seem to have been created for this specific purpose, aside from inspiring spontaneous haikus of course. I was an absolute rookie at rock climbing, and carry the misfortune of also possessing a nauseating fear of heights (this trip I have tried to challenge many fears, though not without much whining that would make a 4 year old blush). With clammy hands and an inextricable knot in the gut, I spared no time in revealing myself as a bumbling, clumsy neophyte.

We had to walk through the barnacled rocks first, and dare I say they looked on ominously. I got super terrified after a bloody scrape, hoping that the accident wasn't portending anything. Our guide, Mon, was tiny, muscled and agile, and next to his lithe and grace I looked like a toddler's clay imitation of man. Upon arriving at Railay East, we found our wall, already busy with plenty of climbers, potential spectators of my near impending failures.

When it was my turn to climb, after checking and rechecking the knots to make sure they were knots and I wasn't imagining them, I was surprised at my relative tolerance of heights. Probably because I was concentrating too hard on holding on. At times, I could feel the panic surge and I would clutch on for dear life, with my toes wedged on the tiniest cracks. I would think: "DEAR LORD WHAT POSSESSED ME TO SIGN UP FOR THIS I'M GOING TO DIE WHAT WOULD THEY TELL MY MOM," fully aware of the support of the harness.

Mon was more than happy to provide instruction when I was stuck between a rock and a hard place (cheeeesy and shameless plug of figurative speech, I know..) although at times I felt like screaming obscenities out loud, when he would make suggestions that sounded near condescending when you're suspended for what seemed like 50 feet. "YOU WANT ME TO PUT MY FEET WHERE? HOW? LOOK WHERE? BEING A CONTORTIONIST IS NOT MY DAY JOB!"

Needless to say, this "Beginning Class" didn't really feel like beginning at all; he just gave us the (relatively) easiest walls to climb, but didn't really explain technique or elaborate on safety measures. He was still really great though, because god knows that for all the grating whinings I did that day he still seemed pretty cheerful and encouraging (a fine mixture of the mai pen rai lifestyle, compounded with easy going Rasta man attitude towards the universe).

Despite my shortcomings, of which I wholly attribute to being a novice (and okay, being deathly out of shape), I actually really enjoyed myself. The moments where my fear of heights dissipated were moments of personal triumph. The experience became both a challenge and an opportunity, and also the sole reason for unbelievable and ungodly soreness for the subsequent week."

Travel Excerpts: Railay Beach

"I've put off writing about this place because whenever I try it seemed like I wasn't giving myself enough to to digest the scenery, and therefore transpose it aptly, yet imperfectly, into words. Admittedly after out hellish day trip from Surathani to Krabi town, I wasn't too excited to walk through Tonsai Bay (adjacent to Railay, our home base for the week) during low tide, where the mud antagonizes your every step. With flimsy flipflops on and with an ever-expanding backpack (what I had managed to accumulate was disgusting) the walk was drudgery.

However, all I really needed was a good night's sleep, seeing as I still on the recovery road after getting maybe 4 hours of sleep total the entire time I was in Koh Phangan. The next morning, it was all birds singing and smiles. I woke up encountering the divine.

Railay cannot be reached by land. Towering limestone cliffs obstruct this interesting place, a haven for hippies and rock-climbers (or both) where posters of Bob Marley and Rasta ephemera decorate the place. At points the Rasta aesthetic seem contrived, but its followers seem to have really want to live and breathe such lifestyle, and more power to them. Anyway, its inhabitants aside, Railay glistens in the best of Thailand's geophysical graces, haloed in emerald green waters. The inconvenience of traveling to Railay discourages many tourists (and for that I was so happy) but it is worth it. Even getting to Railay beach is a challenge-- you have to either circumvent an entire cliff but walk through rocks laden with incredibly sharp barnacles, or climb over this cliff in the blistering heat. Haley, Trish and I mistakenly took an erroneous route at first, and before we could slip into the ragged jaws of death we thankfully had a smarter passer-by correct us immediately. After braving some highly complicated steps, we emerged, sweat dripping, our brains probably denatured from the heavy exertion, out of the cliff and made an maniacal beeline for the water. There, the three of us floated and stared at the cliffs (and activity I did for the most of Railay, imagining their origins of both the plausible and implausible sorts) and our painful memories of climbing dissolved into the sea."

Native Literacy Goes a Long Way

I have to briefly interrupt my travel transcriptions to write about my more recent concerns. Teaching this week has been more difficult than usual, due to a multitude of reasons. One source of my frustration has been the institutionalized behaviors of teachers with regards to their students, more specifically their troublesome priorities. At one of my schools, the teachers prefer office work (no doubt these things must be accomplished, but must they be attended to during class hours?) to actual teaching. Consequently, the students have learned to exercise their free reign in the classroom, have become comatose to any discipline/structure, and have placed little importance on learning because, let's face it, there's no one to encourage and emphasize the important of their education.

I have been struggling in my head, for the longest time, what other issues these students face with regards to learning besides being unintelligible to classroom structure. Compared to my students from the other school, these particular students need more time and repetition to really digest the material and commit lessons to memory. Aside from the frequency of which I see them and a lackadaisical attitude towards accountability with their own work (this is a learned behavior though, that stems from the teacher's emphasis on perfection over learning), I realized, what other decisive factor it was that enabled my students from the other school to learn English much more adeptly. It had come to me right as I was praising one of my teacher-colleagues for doing such a good job teaching Thai. Like a sudden jolt from thunder, it reminded me of those moments in college when I talked myself into discovering what my thesis was for a particular paper.

My trouble students find it difficult learning and retaining English because they aren't even literate in their own native language. Often times, even my students will have trouble reaching a consensus on particular letters when I translate words into Thai. This propels me to conclude that less exposure to local literature, an inadequate proficiency in their own native language, and a lack of proper and positive encouragement from educators put students at a disadvantage in learning a foreign language. I'm not sure if these students even know how to study with a critical understanding of lessons, rote memorization aside. Their brains aren't exercised enough to master their own native tongue, even less a foreign language.

With that knowledge in mind, I spent my Friday abandoning my original lesson plan and encouraged my students to read books in pasa thai for the entire hour, and they seemed to really enjoy it. I figure that if I can spark, and inculcate a desire and habit of reading that curiosity will prevail and my students will be more open and become even more proficient at digesting new information and exercising critical thinking. Here's to hoping anyway!

Travel Excerpts: I Dream of Phi Phi

May 2nd, writing from Railay:

"After a week, I was ready to leave sleepy Koh Lanta and wake to the busier traffic of Phi Phi. I woke up from a Dramamine daze in the ferry to the soaring limestone cliffs of Phi Phi, which look like they've had a dramatic ascent from the sea. The cluster of islands facing the Andaman sea have no gentle sloping hills; the cliffs composing these islands really encapsulate the uninhibited aesthetics of Thailand. Surrounding these islands are blankets of powdery white sand (forget about SNOW when you see this kind of sand) and crystal clear chalcedony and emerald water.

Lonely Planet (again, my travel bible) describes Phi Phi as heartbreakingly beautiful, and it is, for a variety of reasons. Its natural wonder eludes definition, and because I cannot aptly describe it, it will remain Romantic to me (paying homage to "Vicky Christina Barcelona"). Unfortunately, its beauty is nullified and tarnished by the hordes of party oriented backpackers, who arrive Thailand with purely hedonistic and bacchanalian interests--enough to sway me to a TS Eliot kind of arrogant cynicism.. Keep in mind that with any sort of social commentary I will be writing, I am fully aware of my complicit participations in such activities. I really wouldn't mind all the partying in Phi Phi so much if its visitors were responsible tourists and behaved in ways that upheld sustainable tourism. Why should it be acceptable here, to leave your garbage on the beach while it's perfectly illegal to do so where these gap-years are from?

The garbage, the vomit, and urine marred the beautiful beach and as it were, Phi Phi's tarnish largely rests on its misbehaving visitors.

Despite all of this, however, I look back and will always remember that Phi Phi encapsulates what I imagined an island paradise would be. I went snorkeling for the first time, overcoming the initial fear of depths in Phi Phi Leh, infamous for being the centerstage of that famous Leo DiCaprio movie. Snorkeling was perfect for this island, since the water was so incredibly clear that you can see the marine life in full bloom. We embarked on a gorgeous lagoon first to get our snorkeling bearings. Our guide was so wonderful; he was a respectable English expatriate, with a soft spot for baked beans and quelling a neurotic's fear of deep water.

One of the highlights of this trip was exploring Maya Bay. Our entrance to this beach was so dramatic, and climactic. We parked our longtail boat behind Maya, and had to ascend wooden stairs wedged between two towering cliffs, as if to serve a gateway. The walk into the enclosing jungle held a somewhat cinematic suspense--the air was still, but pierced every now and then by ocean swallows, the flora dreamy, the forest floor enveloped in white sand. Suddenly, after promenading through the brief labyrinth of bushes, we walked into a panoramic view of heaven. We beheld Maya, cradled by a wall of limestone cliffs, its water the clearest turquoise, its sand titanium white--not just off-white or eggshell--this was legit white.

If I could have just physically photoshopped out the tourists there it would have been the apex of the idyllic, and I really would have thought that I had died and gone to heaven.

A little more snorkeling concluded this trip, and the sunset signaled our return trip back to Phi Phi Don."

I learned slowly but surely from this trip, that living here in Thailand has given me the benefit of viewing my travels with a unique lens. Living in the Isan region, where tourist activity is incredibly scarce, I have come to define what Thailand is to me based on my local and idiosyncratic experiences. It was a shock to see how different the South was--it was as if the steady stream of tourism, the concomitant "Western" business and cultural interests completely reshaped and redefined the landscape. I was indignant, and insisted that none of these travelers really knew Thailand. But what it really is, is that none of them know what Thailand is to me. The suspension of these conflicting and colliding perceptions of Thailand is hard to accept sometimes, even when you feel like your intentions are pure and you're just emotionally troubled by the callous treatment of foreigners to the local communities, and to the harsh realities of packaged cultural enterprises. What do these people really know, when they have no desires of being open to cultural exchange, and all they're really exposed to are these manufactured cultural commodities that are far divorced from what I know Thailand to be like, living here, even as a foreigner? But to qualify this pedantic entry, I have no right whatsoever being the definer of what Thailand is, or what it means. My definition arises out of the limits of my experience. Tourism is part of Thailand. Maybe not its best part :)

I know the movement from travel writing to diatribe may have been surprising. But given that these unresolved questions manifested so unexpectedly, I think the symmetry is agreeable. But oh boy, I started out Romantic and then darn, I did dip into Eliotian (thatta word??) cynicism.

And on that note, I am going to bed.

Looking back at emails, found one in utter disbelief.

Because my Whitman account is closing, I decided to take one last nostalgic look in my inbox and found this gem:

date Sat, Sep 16, 2006 at 7:55 AM subject Re: [nowar_events] Potential Speaker

hide details 9/16/06

I say yes to this guy, it would be worthwhile to get him to come.

valerie



Quoting valuseam@whitman.edu:

Hey team!
Since we didn't get a chance to talk after the meeting on Tuesday, I wanted to let you guys know about a potential speaker. Here's the information:

Name: Greg Mortenson
Author of: Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Fight Terrorism and Build Nations One School at a Time (2006)
Occupation: Founder and Director of Central Asia Institute
He is dedicated to humanitarianism and promoting education for girls in volatile regions of Pakistan and Afghanistan. The organization has set up over 55 schools and provided over 20,000 children with literacy. In 2005, he received the Men's Journal "Anti-Terror" Award and the Red Cross "Humanitarian of the Year" Award.

So, what are the group's thoughts? Should we bring him or it is a no-go? Send me a response: yay or nay and please consider: do you think he would make a good contribution to our cause and the campus as a whole?

Whaaat? I had a close brush of fate with the famous Greg Mortenson and it didn't happen? I only say this because he has been so incredibly inspiring in pursuit here in Thailand. I know it, we are fated to meet someday in the future.

If you have time, please read Three Cups of Tea and Stones into Schools. Greg Mortenson, my idol and future employer, is amazing.

Travel Excerpts: The Sunsets of Koh Lanta

April 22nd--

"At our resident restaurant of the week, 9pm and stranded by torrential rain brought by the nightly tropical storm. Our days here have consisted of nothing but reading and beaching bumming, and when trying to avoid expensive island food (I will not be mocked by unthinking travelers who delight at Thailand's currency to their favor, as I live here and earn about 150 dollars a month) I subsist on ramen noodles and scoops out of my peanut butter jar. Trish, Kate and I are staying in a small hot bungalow atop a cozy hill. It gets humid everyday inside so we avoid it at all costs. Vacationing as a thrifty backpacker strips life bare to its essentials-- gives the traveler a refreshing, if not an interesting perspective on what one can live without. Because we are spending 180 baht a night (6USD), we get the most basic amenities-- a bed, running water, sheets, a fan-- really, a roof over our heads.

Relaxing has been the primary motif of our stay, and our daily main attraction has been watching the equatorial sun set over the bathwater Andaman sea. Khlong Dao beach stretches for two kilometers and its sand can only be aptly be described as "beach blonde" (I know.. Lonely Planet forgery..). It's gorgeous out here. Maybe Keats could only be the one that can manage a description with justice. I do like, despite my nagging need for busier activities, how beach bumming has spearheaded our travels down the South of Thailand. Since arriving in Koh Lanta, the only legitimate activity we've managed so far is briefly kayaking around Talabeng island (a cluster of soaring cliffs, blessed with a few golden beaches), a cursory spelunking inside its caves (one cavernous as a cathedral) and visiting Bubu island, where I got stung by some barbaric sea-animal."

My writing stops here- my dedication to my writing journal has obviously been erratic and inconsistent. My time in Koh Lanta has definitely been marked by the memories of incredible sunsets; fiery oranges, flamingo pinks and indigos fill the sky. Taking pictures isn't quite suffice enough to really capture the experience; at the end it seems somewhat contrived. You really have to be there, breathing in the ocean air, standing while the waves lick at your feet, gazing at the limitless sky, to really know what a sunset is like.

Travel Excerpts: War in Chiang Mai

April 20-something, in Klong Dao, Koh Lanta

"I realize I completely skipped writing about Chiang Mai, but hopefully this compensatory entry will amend such egregious offense (I say this ironically). I regret not having explored Chiang Ma, but we did arrive in the middle of a nationwide festival celebrating the New Year, and also a concomitant relief to April's seemingly daily heat wave.

Thais celebrate Songkran by having an enormous, ubiquitous water fight bordering carnage. The streets are lost to anarchy. A moat surrounding the old city inevitably becomes the battleground and the source of artillery for the week of Songkran. Trish, Steph, Caitlyn and I stayed at an amazing hostel--Spicy Thai-- and met fellow backpackers around the world, all of which flocked to Chiang Mai to experience Songkran in the most hardcore way. Even before the first day of the festival, I bore witness to the gravity and the extent of this tradition. Armed with countless swigs of rice wine, courtesy of our hostel owner, my fellow hostel-ers and I hopped on the back of Spicy Thai's pick-up truck supplied with a plethora of water guns, small buckets, and a tub of water in the middle.

Fate eased us into this water fight well enough, some little scruffs of water gunfight here and there and several harassments of unwitting bystanders and pedestrians, under the influence of our breakfast for champions. But, getting closer and closer to the moat was like advancing closer and closer towards the front lines of war. The intensity of bucket throwing increased relative to our proximity to the moat. Fights erupted from one pick-up truck to another, hapless victims aboard a songthaew get drenched with moat water. Under the 100 degree heat of the sun, the worst attacks were the rude acquaintances with ice cold water to the face. There were vendors selling huge blocks of ice, ready to supply the masses clamoring for the thrill of hydro-violence. We, soldiers of the water, sadistic, owing allegiance to no one, cock our guns and spray aimlessly--how oddly phallic...

Traffic inched, and the streets were flooded with water. I may have been affected slightly by this monolithic mob mentality. There are numerous eye witness accounts of my uncharacteristic brutish behavior, laughing maniacally as I sprayed ice cold water straight into the eyes of helpless... children (I sure hope my occasional frustrations with 1st graders weren't manifesting themselves in this state of non-sentience). Don't mistake me however for being a heartless smiter of water-- I was pelted wave after wave of moat water, into every possible orifice of my body. For a while I was afraid I would contract some disease.

This type of heavy fighting went on for an entire week. There was no way of staying dry. Even the most unsuspecting street corners had Thai people ready to soak you with water, no matter the time of day.

Suffice to say, my stamina could not keep up with this insanity. I sought the refuge of Wat Doi Suthep, and witnessed the yearly pilgrimage performed by Buddhists. People bathed Buddhas situated in different postures with oil and water, walked around the stupa holding dok buas (lotus flowers) while ringing prayer bells along the way. There were newly initiated adolescent monks running about this whimsical wat. My water quota for the day was essentially fulfilled by the blessings of a resident monk, and my luck for the new year sealed with a traditional string bracelet."

Writing from Pai

"At Coffee In Love, overlooking the mountains--

This town, in the high heat of the afternoon, has lost all electricity. I realize that I'm going about my adventures completely out of order (currently skipped Chiang Rai) but who needs linearity these days?

How can one describe Pai?

I imagine years ago this town was still relatively untouched by the kind of of cultural corrosion that comes with steady flows of tourism, but Pai still maintains its bohemian luster. It's a town that seems out of place with the rest of Thailand, a haven for hippies nestled in a valley surrounded by tall cascading mountains. In Northern Thailand, as opposed to the Isan region, good coffee is abound. We are staying at a guesthouse, Darling View Point, that affords us an incredible view of the setting sun behind the mountains as we lazily swing on our hammocks and all. Sometimes, I feel like my vacation is really a series of postcards, and real life, is like a reel play of these postcards.

My favorite part of this trip so far has definitely been our motorcycle adventures. Yesterday morning, Haley and I took our quick motorcycling lessons which is not really challenging, but it feels like you're about to drive a machine that's too complicated, is finicky, and partially mocks my nonexistent finesse in mastering novel skills. In short, I freaked out at the thought of driving a bike that goes faster than 20 km an hour while negotiating traffic rules, and keeping myself on the bike. But I finally gave into peer pressure and that was a good life choice.

Apprehension and a subsequent gastro-intestinal cramp aside, I rode the hog and unlocked the day's memorable adventures.

Haley, Trisha, Kate and I decided to go to Mor Phaeng waterfalls, which is located north of downtown Pai. The journey there was absolutely incredible, a heart swelling adrenaline pumping visual feast of the mountains of the country side. The fact that we were riding motorbikes, navigating through roads encircling lush hills and mountains made me feel like a rebel, as I thought about how life in the States would be so different. We arrived at the waterfalls with a score of laughing thai children fearlessly sliding down the boulders of the waterfall, into the cool palliative pools of water. We wanted to join in the fun, but a scary slip on a mossy rock shook my courage. OOps.

We eventually rode on our bikes to the Pai canyon with our newfound friend Sandy. We could walk around the ridges but the view below on either side of the steep cliffs made the traipsing incredibly nerve-wracking. The view was incredible though. We closed the day's activities with a pizza (!) dinner in a dreamy italian bistro--there, Haley, Trisha, Kate and I toasted to our blissful six months in Thailand.