Better late than never: WAKA WAKA WorldTeach Thailand!

Supporting Waka Waka: WorldTeach Thailand from valerie lopez on Vimeo.

I was out traveling with my mom when the apex of the WorldCup fever hit Thailand, so I never got to make this video on time. While belated, our support for Waka Waka's 1 GOAL: Education for All campaign is no less avid. This is a video of me and my students from Thai Samakee and Na Bpong schools showing our support for the global movement to help provide education for all children.

(In no way was this video created with the intent to infringe upon copyright laws.)

The Top Ten Things We Love About Isan (and then some)

The other volunteers and I tossed around ideas for a WorldTeach t-shirt for a good two weeks. We all have at least a thing or two that we love about Thailand, particularly our home, the Isan region, so we pooled our suggestions and our Top Ten list came forth. This blog post will attempt to illuminate and give context to these well-loved idiosyncrasies, so when you might eventually see me parading this shirt around you might have some idea what we're talking about. (Warning, this post might be a little long).

1. Lizards as roommates

If you're part of my loyal readership (bless your heart!) then you might be familiar with another roommate of mine, Fitz, who is a sizable pitbull gecko who nearly gave me heart attacks the first time I heard his mating calls. Well now, there's at least two Fitzes in my house, and our daily encounters are composed of glances of civility, knowing that we irreverently trespass each others' territories all the time.

2. Activating

One cannot, will not, survive the hot season of Thailand (with daily temperatures reaching over a hundred degrees) without cooling powder. Say what? Cooling powder, is all the magic of the universe combined, the stuff dreams are made of. It is best to apply it when you're a little sweaty, and wait... for the moment of blissful activation, when the powder suddenly cools you off and the sensation is just inexplicable. Be wary of your activation times however, for a little side effect is loss of control over your facial expression.

3. Drinking beer with ice

With American culture in mind, there are many faux pas in Thailand. One of them, and probably the most egregious, is drinking beer with ice. I still cringe inside when my glass of beer gets a hefty ice cube or two, but since it is just so hot here, everything goes tepid to warm very rapidly. And you know what, I will pick the lesser evil and drink slightly diluted beer (oh boy, more the reason to drink it quickly) than have warm beer when it's hot outside.

4. Even if no one else texts you, Happy will

Imagine days going by with no one dropping a line to say hi. Doesn't that feel so lonely? Doesn't that feel so empty? Doesn't your heart feel like one giant vacuum? Well, luckily enough, if you live in Thailand and subscribe to DTAC Happy for your cellphone minutes, every day Happy will check in on you, just to say how much credit you have left. If you're even luckier, you will get a random phone call complete in incomprehensible Thai!

5. You’re on Thai Time now

After all my months here in Thailand, I look at America and I am so utterly impressed how every thing is in order, and most every thing will come into fruition as expected. I am not sure if the other countries in the world are also order-centric, because Thailand sure isn't! When you have any sort of appointment, expect it to start very late, or much too ungodly early.

6. Go spicy or go home

Isan loves everything spicy. So for the unfortunate bearing blander tongues, Isan will tell you to go back home. Dishes just aren't the same without your lips proudly wearing the after-sting of peppers like a badge of honor.

7. The spigot

I will have you know, that this is my personal favorite. It isn't particular to Isan, but it is where I encountered it for the first time and I will miss it terribly. Spigot, you ask? Well, you know the dishwashing hoses American kitchens are equipped with? Well, you will find these things, in our bathrooms here, a Thai equivalent to the French bidet. Of course your privates get hot too! They deserve a little shower every now and then, and it wonderfully doubles to clean you as well.

8. Six people on a motorcycle

I should qualify this-- six people on a motorcycle, plus a poodle in the front basket. In my 23 years of living, I have only witnessed this circus balancing act here in Thailand. It must run in the genes.

9. Insects aren’t just bugs, they’re snacks

One of my best nights out in Thailand ended with a bag of deep fried crickets. In lieu of my favorite munchies, curly fries, a bag of crickets satisfied my deep fried craving for the night. I also dedicated a blog entry chronicling my unconventional fast food experience with cicadas. Ah, Isan! You will only be the place I know which sprinkles in red ant eggs as the certain, je ne sais quois in an omelet.

10. When in doubt: "Mai pen rai"

I am so surprised that I haven't written about the quintessential, all-encompassing maxim that rules the Thai lifestyle. It literally translates to "nevermind," but the English counterpart so imperfectly captures the meaning. Mai pen rai can replace "you're welcome" (as in, "no problem at all"). It can be an apt response to something trite, like getting picked up too late, or to other things more profound. It can be used to ease confrontation and tension, or as an affirmation of hospitality and community. I'm sure I'm leaving out lots of other hypothetical circumstances, so the saying holds true: when in doubt, "mai pen rai."

A runner-up: khao niaw

I will always think of Isan whenever I see sticky rice. For all the sticky-rice virgins reading this post, may your first experience be an informed one: may I never see you try to eat sticky rice with any eating utensils but your God-given fingers. Take a piece and roll into a ball. Hum "sep lai" under your breath and you will commune in spirit with the amazing people of Isan.

Writing this post just enhances my love for this place. May this serve as an endorsement to all who might be visiting Thailand!

I Hear Thailand Before I Sleep: 2, or An Awakening

At times, right before I drift to sleep,

I am awoken, slumber interrupted,

As my house becomes the center of discordant noises.

Suddenly, I hear the roosters crow, befuddled by the yellow moon,

I hear the tingling of a wayward dog’s collar,

I hear the neighbor’s failures in karaoke,

I hear our resident gecko,

sounding out his mating call,

I hear packs of dogs in heat,

howling through the night,

I hear frogs lurking in the water,

their cumulative clucks like plucks of a cello out of tune,

I hear rough engines of motorcycles,

I hear domestic disputes gone awry,

I hear crickets, cicadas,

And!

To give further drama to the night’s opera,

a neighbor’s waterbuffalo, announces the aria!

It begins its excruciating twelve hour labor,

to end only when the village speaker,

bellows the morning announcements.

I hear Thailand before I sleep:

She is frenetic, unrelenting, unapologetic—and yet—inspiring.

For as I write a catalogue of Her noisy offenses,

and of my sanity, chipping and corroded,

I’ve realized like a sudden jolt from thunder,

how Thailand has unwittingly

kept me from slipping,

into the droning slumber,

of a conventional life.

Sabaidee, Laos!

While this chronicle might be belated, I can easily recollect the best (and most difficult) moments of my week in Laos. About two weeks ago, my fellow volunteers and I decided to take advantage of some days off from school (in concurrence with the Buddhist Lent) and head to Northern Laos.

This is my first time traversing a land border in Southeast Asia. It felt surreal to cross over the Mekong River for the first time and end up in a completely different country. While our entrance might have been met with various difficulties (scams and long lunches and lines alike), our spirits were no less dampened in the end as we arrived in Vientiane.

It is very easy to observe the different cultural echoes in Laos. Facets of the city's architecture, borrowed from the French, was to me, the most striking. We rapidly discovered that we could navigate around with our knowledge of Thai and little bits of Laos. Adjusting to the inflated kip was definitely a process (a meal can cost up to 50,000 kip).

While I enjoyed my bit of time in Vientiane, and sad to leave the other volunteers behind, I absolutely adored the city of Luang Prabang, which is this really Romantic city nestled among a chain of soaring verdant mountains. The atmosphere is very different from the other tourist spots I've ventured, catered to a different kind of crowd. The sidewalks were cobbled with brick, lamp posts alighted the night (most of them did not work, which is part of its charm), and the food was absolutely amazing, ranging from French to Indian to the local cuisine. Every day was a culinary triumph, from chocolate croissants and crepes for breakfast, baguettes for lunch, and godknows what for dinner. My most intimate souvenir from Laos can probably be measured when I stand on a weighing scale.

I loved traipsing around the city, hiking to the top of Wat Phou Si to enjoy a panoramic view of the city and the mountains, visiting the nearby waterfalls and having drinks by the Mekong River with an amazing view of the sunset. These are a few of my favorite things!

Matt and I headed to Vang Vieng to check out the views of the river beside the craggy limestone cliffs. While the scenery was incredible and dramatic, it was just tarnished with blaring techno music or overplayed Journey to fuel the hordes of tubers. It's like all the clubbing culture of Western Europe, not just transplanted itself, but bulldozed the beautiful riverside town of Vang Vieng. Suffice to say, we didn't really enjoy Vang Vieng as much as Luang Prabang. We did however, befriended a local who eventually sold us some popcorn when we got caught in the rain exploring an off-track village. We sat with her and conversed with our little bits of Thai, and commented on the unexpected downpour.

Matt, Trish and I wanted to pursue a different homecoming route from Laos, by going to the border town of Thakhek which is on the opposite side of Nakhon Phanom. However, due to some financial difficulties, we decided to head straight to Nong Khai from Vientiane instead. I enjoyed Laos and hope to return to Luang Prabang, but our journey, replete with mud slides, overpriced bus trips and food and fees, made our homecoming in Thailand much sweeter.

Some pictures for your viewing pleasure:

Phou Si

Sneaking a peek: Wat Xieng Thong

Buddha Sculpture Park in Vientiane

At a French Restaurant in Luang Prabang

Cafe a Laos

Encountering mudslides to Luang Prabang

Room for a View: Atop Phou Si

Sunset by the Mekong River

Khong Si Waterfalls

Vang Vieng

A look at the semester.

After reviewing my past few entries, I'm regretting how little I've written about teaching this semester. Truthfully, I found this semester to be a lot more demanding and difficult than the previous one, partly due to my increased teaching hours (from 20 to 23 this semester), acclimating to different classroom chemistries after older students from last semester have graduated, as well as adjusting to a set of new students (particularly rowdy first graders). These are a few among others.

Before the beginning of this semester, I thought my first semester experience was enough to give me confidence for the new school year. Well, that confidence was shaken to the extreme of the Richter scale, and it seemed like being a teacher has somehow exposed my previously unknown character flaws (there are quite a few) and illuminated my less-than-malleable patience. The difficulties at times seemed insurmountable. Anuban students (kindergarten) would disrupt my classes and flaunt their outright snobbery of my desperate pleas, students would copy each others' work and behavioral problems plague the class despite reiterating classroom rules. I can generally tell how my day will unfold by merely observing how my students are supervised by teachers that morning. I was ashamed to find myself at times, matching my students' tantrums and succumbing to its immediate gratification. Fortunately for all of us, the frustrations very quickly subside and are supplanted by quick smiles and laughter instead.

These difficulties posed interesting opportunities for both thought and action. I learned some crucial factors needed to create a nourishing and encouraging learning environment. I learned that routine and practice makes a difference. I learned that expecting, and demanding accountability from students will drive initiative on their part, especially when their choices are weighed with rewards or consequences (borrowed from football lingo, my yellow and red card warnings work magically). I learned that teachers need to work within a web of resources, both human and material. I learned the steep challenges these schools face. And, I learned not to take things too seriously, and at the end of the day, I can only aspire to be the best that I can. These days, I am much calmer and more apt to respond to certain classroom difficulties.

Perhaps one of the reasons why I haven't talked about teaching as much at all is because, on some level, it's become very quotidian for me (I think our meek village schools celebrate national holidays.. by canceling classes. So I regret the lack of documentation of such grand events). But however ordinary days can be, I am fully aware of the extraordinariness of spending time with my students, who, despite having seen me at the borders of my patience and sanity, still come to my classroom bright-eyed, ready to humor my sometimes comic attempts at teaching. When they bring me drawings of princesses donning the most ornate dresses with labels like "Teacher Coconut" or surreptitiously ask for my phone number, I am grateful they still appreciate me despite the fact I've given them warnings for drawing during my class.

Every day, before school, I somewhat cower at the thought of a daunting day ahead. But the morning coffee reminds me of routine, and reminds me both of survival and triumph over the yesterdays and the days before, over minor and major existential crises, over mercurial first graders and hard-headed pre-adolescents, and over the challenges of teaching and being a teacher. It also reminds me of the rewards, too.