Valerie Goes to Thailand

A continuation of study!

2010-11-18T14:40:00.000-08:00

Now that I've been home for a month and a half, my life is dramatically less interesting than it was a year ago. I'm enjoying the activities I've sorely missed, most especially poring in the library and spending half a day, if not most of it, reveling in the available literature.

I'm not going to lie, I'm going stir-crazy with the lack of a structured regimen to my days. While reading, running, and cooking are noble activities, I'm ready for some good work. However, trying to break into the non-profit business is really tough, and with the backdrop of last year's massive lay-offs reducing my chances from little to none, job hunting can be really discouraging.

My hope right now is to get exposure into the nonprofit business of global development, especially ones that emphasize and support grassroots movement. That might be distant yet, but hopefully, these aspirations achieve fruition.

For the moment, I've embarked on a writing project. If you're interested in tuning in, feel free to visit methinkprettyoneday.tumblr.com

Same Same, But Different

2010-10-18T13:38:00.002-07:00

Coined from a colloquial quip, "same same but different" is a Thai jargon used to highlight similarities while conceding to differences. Versatile as "mai pen rai," it can be summoned for conversations of everyday significance or for others with higher import. I use this now to reflect about myself and how I think I've changed over the past year while volunteering in Thailand.

I admit it's very hard to track the internal changes one goes through in a year, especially with a momentous experience such as this. If there is one thing I learned from my thesis, there is no use tracing change and transformation; they are deep and eternal. However, when I revisit myself from last year, I was nothing more than a bright-eyed fresh graduate, insulated by the amniotic bubble of Whitman College. Admittedly I didn't think I had enough time in college to commit a substantial amount of time for community projects. What I knew was limited to books and academia; I had little occasion to put theories into practice. While I deeply value my education, it was high time that I expanded and encouraged my learning in other ways, especially at a critical point after graduation.

I review my WorldTeach objectives written before my service and honestly, while it feels affirming to have volunteered and taught English at a village school, I think my students have done more for me, than I could have ever done for them. I went to Thailand hoping that I could make some lasting changes; instead I come home, humbled with lasting impressions. I went to Thailand to teach, and instead, I learned about myself.

WorldTeach. World. Teach. What a wonderful summary of my experience, although I read this now differently than I did when I first applied for the program. It is beautifully ironic that I remained a student while officially employed as a teacher. In my year in Thailand, I learned about the world, in global and local terms, and where I fit in both contexts. As I traveled to the other side of the Pacific, the expanse of my perspectives widened. Community service became the underlying motif of my experiences, tying them all together. I bore witness to the eternal spring of happiness located in work that is in service to others. I never expected how profound and rich this happiness can be, until I dedicated my work every day to serve the community.

As I lived a life modestly stripped of Western accoutrements, I found that I could adapt to a lifestyle that can thrive without the stronghold of advanced technology. Here in the States, the new gadgets of convenience strip away our uses of intelligence and strength and shrink our worlds to further insularity. I don't mean to indict the West of excesses, but the consumer culture is more apparent. We can live richly without extra baggage, especially when we also focus our culture towards enriching our local and global communities.

As for being a teacher, it would be a lie and a disservice to my work if I viewed it through rose-colored glasses and forget to acknowledge its challenges. While teaching the most adorable kids in the world has plenty of rewards, I quickly discovered aspects about my personality that I wanted to improve. I really learned, through the hard way, the value of patience, fortitude, humor, and the ability to frame things in a larger perspective rather than fixating. I learned that while papers can be rushed and written in a day, the things that count cannot be fixed nor finished easily (that includes myself!).

I come from this experience bursting with inspiration. I am inspired and humbled by service on an international level, I am inspired by the humble communities in Nakhon Phanom, and I am also inspired by my fellow WorldTeach volunteers, who have grown with me throughout our year of service. I am still the same person, but I have also grown in many different ways. Now that I am about to encounter the unknown, I know that this time I am armed with inspiration and an internal compass, fashioned from my volunteer experiences, pointing me to the right direction.

Thank you to all who have remained loyal readers of this blog. You have been a part of a wonderful and transformative adventure.

Forever Bound to Community: Scenes from My Last String Tying Ceremonies

2010-10-18T12:00:00.000-07:00

From Na Bpong School

All my students lined up to give me strings

with the village elders

From Thai Samakee School

I had at least a hundred after the week was over!

It was definitely hard to hold back the tears as each and everyone of my students, teachers, and community elders tied a string around my wrists. I cried anyway, the tears just came rushing forth as I felt the presence of grace and warmth envelop the room, encouraged by the physical links of hands, arms, elbows, and shoulders. (Traditionally, this string tying ceremony encourages the physical contact to emphasize the interconnection of the community: welcome to the human network!) As the students lined up, preparing to tie their strings, so did lines of memory rush forth, conjuring ordinary yet special impressions of my teaching life. When I think about the meaning, significance, and magnitude of this single act of well-wishing, I am so deeply touched of how the local community embraced me as part of their family in the past year. While the strings may be gone now, I will always feel their presence, a reminder of home in a distant land, and that ever-persistent tug to return.

Committing to Memory

2010-10-14T23:30:00.000-07:00

All About Me Mini-Books: Semester Projects. I asked my students to use the material they've learned this semester and create mini-autobiographies.

It's difficult to even begin to describe my students. Ever since leaving Nakhon Phanom, I feel almost like less of a person walking with a vacancy of purpose. That is a little exaggerated, and dramatic, of course. In actuality, I feel like this urgency of purpose, waiting to be channeled and manifested in my next steps. But I will always carry with me the wonderful memories I have with my students that have shaped and defined my experience in Thailand.

My students from both elementary schools are just like kids from everywhere. Just like any other vivacious students from anywhere, they like their fair share of amusements. They like to play with bugs (maybe bigger than the ones from the States!), boys like to torment girls, and girls like to flaunt their intellectual superiority in the classroom. They love to sing (they like to request "Hey Jude" all the time), dance, and play. Most of the time, they like to learn too.

My students are not like kids from everywhere. There are certain dimensions to their childhood experiences that are unique to their circumstances. In a lot of ways, they are encouraged to mature a lot faster, because they are allocated adult-like responsibilities on a daily basis. Consider the photo on the bottom of this entry, of a great student of mine. His name is Pbad, and while a US counterpart might begrudge the task of returning chairs to classrooms and his parents might consider suing the school, Pbad manages and carries the request without complaint. Consider also, the video below of my first-graders being asked by their teacher to multi-task:

Initially, these unconventional practices at school seemed so absurd. Teachers barking instructions while sitting in the shade were a little hard to swallow, and sometimes the requests were a bit, let's say nit-picky. But at the heart of these practices lies the ideal of students making individual contributions to sustain the school, in a community with little to no resources or funding. Everyday, it seems like the students themselves run the school. They arrive early to mop the floors and clean, they are in charge of morning flag ceremonies, prepare lunch every day under the supervision of the teachers, put away dishes, and so forth. Their schools stand because of their hands. The world doesn't lie before their feet; usually they have to get down and polish it first, while counting to a hundred in Thai.

While they are just like any other students every where when it comes to mischief, they bring the attitudes they've inculcated from sustaining the school into my classroom. They are very eager to help, and they will perform pretty much everything that I ask them too. Sometimes, it took a while to seduce their personalities out of their coy shells, but in time, they were more willing to display their playful sides and more willing to exercise more agency in the classroom.

I will always remember their attentiveness, their eagerness to learn and please, and their incorrigible displays of appreciation (my bags are never lacking in origami hearts). I will always remember the funny moments--most of them to my embarrassment-- but all of them were comic reliefs, tending to assuage my larger anxieties. I will never forget the challenges, the stresses, the self-doubt, but I will always remember the heart-affirming advances, such as watching my students develop and display tangible proofs of progress. I will always remember their unrelenting efforts to teach me Thai and their ridicules of my pronunciations. I will always remember their hospitalities and their grace. I will remember their unexpected visits at my home and their frequent recourse to smiles in the events of misunderstanding. I will always remember the laughter, from first-grade peals, to 6th grade pubescent, cracking bellows. I embrace these all, and commit them to memory.

Valerie Travels to India: An Afterthought

2010-10-08T16:51:00.001-07:00

Steph and I traveled to India; we didn't take a vacation. While the thoughts of balmy beaches and sun tans seemed so enviable while we were enduring a painful train ride or shooing an unrelenting tout, I had an amazing time. India kept me on my toes, and I always wondered, "what's next" each passing minute. We tasted India's serenity and chaos for a brief two weeks and experienced a perpetual pendulum swinging between many extremes. We saw beauty, ugliness, happiness, desperation, wealth, poverty, kindness and apathy.

India took our breath away--sometimes literally. From crossing the streets of Kolkata which can be a near death experience, smelling the stench of the streets, navigating the anarchic trains stations, to seeing the amazing view from the hills of Darjeeling, eating the best cuisine in the world, marveling at the incredible moving sight of the ghats-- India took our breath away.

In the few quiet moments I had, either when looking at an awesome view or observing a Purja ceremony, I experienced these transient moments of brief suspension, of fleeting detachment from the present, and encountered this unbelievable ecstasy only ever afforded to travelers, of pure awe and wonderment, and I just couldn't stop thinking to myself, "I can't believe I'm in India."

Valerie Goes To India: The Holy City of Varanasi

2010-10-08T16:21:00.000-07:00

From top left: our guesthouse in view, saluting the sunrise in the Ganges, the popping
color of the ghats, women bathing, morning rituals, performing assanas in Varanasi,
the ghats alight at night, we heart Varanasi

Varanasi is a city situated right by the mighty and holy Ganges river, the oldest continually inhabited city of the world, a city that worships Shiva, a city that celebrates and welcomes death by its riverbed. Dying and having one's ashes scattered into the river is an auspicious way to die, since it releases the self from the cycle of reincarnation.
With that in mind, I could only imagine the flurry of activity and the flock of individuals surrounding the city. As we walked through the old city of Varanasi, we could not miss how old the city was, with its claustrophobic alleys used by big fat cows as their runway, cobbled streets, an equally ancient sewage system, and dirty brick buildings. It was a hot, hot day coming into the city, and after a somewhat traumatic attempt finding our guesthouse, we arrive relieved, bereft of any more patience and energy, so Steph and I decided to stay inside its walls after having showered and emerged as normal human beings.
Steph and I remarked on how we've had such great luck with all the places we've stayed in India. Our particular guesthouse had an Indian and Mediterranean fusion, with ochre-washed walls, colorful banners, an oasis of shade and flora in the courtyard, and an uninterrupted view of the majestic Ganges river and the ghats (steps to the river) to our left and right.

The next day, we woke up early, and won against the sunrise. We caught the subtle orange glow over the river indicating its swift arrival, so we ventured to ride a boat that would take us to the ghats in the early morning light. After paying twice as much the original price, Steph and I determined that nothing could stand in the way of enjoying a breath-taking sight that morning.

Not only was the sight of the ghats and temples sublime in that light of dawn, but the activities surrounding them demanded the focus of my attention and my less-than-perfect camera. Because the Ganges river is prescribed as holy, scores of people went to bathe in its water. Men with the barest essentials and women blooming in full saris splashed about the river's edge. They all drank the water, gurgled with it, anointed themselves with blessing. Men playing flutes, performing sun salutations; it was a harmonious play of different perfomances, with the backdrop of the temples glistening in the sanctifying light of the sun. It was absolutely breath-taking, awe-inspiring, humbling.

While some areas of India might be impoverished of modern comforts and affluence, I couldn't help but almost be blinded by the vibrant and beautiful colors everywhere. In Kolkata, in Darjeeling, in Varanasi, colors had their own way of manifesting themselves against the drabness of the everywhere else: the glittering saris of women in a sea of men, the beautiful prayer flags in the fog, the colorful ghats of Varanasi standing out against gray stone. In the three places Steph and I visited, we saw the multicolored, multifaceted India that is just unlike any other place we've ever traveled.

Valerie Goes to India: Darjeeling is My Cup of Tea

2010-10-08T14:23:00.000-07:00

From top left: Breakfast with Lola, tea tasting the champagne of all teas, prayer flags at
the Mahakal Temple, the amazing views of Darjeeling, and more Darjeeling tea

Darjeeling became the perfect antidote to the bustle of Kolkata, but not without a price. I spent the entire time, during the jeep ride up to the West Bengal hills, trying so hard not to get sick over the pockmarked roads. A Darjeeling local accompanied us in this trip, though he and Steph were mostly in the ones in conversation as I was enduring a narcotic daze of sleeplessness and healthy dose of dramamine. He was determined to show us a proper display of local hospitality by taking us out to lunch AND taking us straight to our hostel. We appreciated his kindness, so we tried our best not to be rude while we ran up to our room and slept ourselves into a coma, cocooned in thick blankets while Darjeeling's gentle fog visited our room through a narrow slit in our window.

We quickly discover that this anti-quaint-ed town (see what I did there haha) was the perfect place to people watch. The bundled, sweatered and scarved inhabitants walked through the fog and cold of Darjeeling, posing as the perfect subjects for intent and near-inappropriate gazing. The thought of the narrow alleys spilling into the market square, the gas lamps glowing against the deep blue evening sky, the warm sensation of a tea cup between my hands lent me into that fleeting yet profound backpacker's bliss.

The dogs of Darjeeling were definitely a highlight. They were plump, glossy, friendly animals eager to become fast friends with passers-by. I had two favorites-- Lola and Chai. Lola was a resident dog in our favorite Sonam's kitchen who was just spoilt with affection. The other dog, now christened Chai, was a stray in the Ghoom train station. When I left the bench where Steph and I sat to buy some more tea, Chai took my spot and only when I returned did I face my usurper. After my ignored pleas, she ended up scooting over towards Steph so that I could sit down. The sight of us three sitting down on a bench provided us some comic relief for a while, and I let Chai finish my tea as a treat.

Exploring Darjeeling was just wonderful. In search of the Observatory Hill (in hindsight this was a bit too far for walking with flimsy sandals) Steph and I took a walk towards the north of the town, in vain search of the elusive Himalayan view. We found ourselves instead, at the colorful Mahakal Temple, which looked as if colorful rain drizzled around the temple and became suspended. Strings upon strings of prayer flags decorated the temple, glowing bright against the gray fog. In contrast to our other temple experience, this time, our walk was just so serene and the vision of simplicity and quietude was inspiring. The air was so still, reverberating the low incantations of priests, the clanging of prayer bells and carrying the steady perfume of incense, burning low in sand pits.

(a 360 view of the temple - excuse the barking dog, I think he was the one bothering the monkeys)

While we didn't get to see the Himalayas this time, I loved our slow-paced time in Darjeeling, where it was easy to enjoy a hot cup of tea and walk around town. One day, Steph and I even took on tea tasting at Nathmull's and had a blast sampling Darjeeling varieties. Eventually, we befriended some Thai students and the particular kinship that struck between ourselves was truly heartwarming and spoke to the fact that Thailand has become a home.

I was a little sad to part with the more peaceful lifestyle of Darjeeling and apprehensive to face the famed chaos of Varanasi. Thankfully, we found two other travelers, a couple from the US, to accompany us on a long, hot, tiring and trying voyage.

Valerie Goes to India: Surviving the Streets of Kolkata

2010-10-08T12:56:00.000-07:00

On Kolkata: "Children playing, men bathing, women washing, lives ebb and flow. Eating rice, selling bananas, vivid colors glow. Taxis honking autos beeping, cycle wallahs running; harmony and chaos juxtapose."- ravish, LP India

From top left: Stephanie dozing at our haven, the Sunflower Guesthouse, Visiting Mother Theresa's tomb, the taxi traffic chaos, eating amazing Indian food, the decaying colonial buildings of Kolkata, the Kalighat Temple.

Whew. I've made it back to the States, and I'm now entering a prolonged period of decompression. I now have to adjust to yet another foreign environment (more like uncanny) while digesting the whirl of events that happened in the last four weeks. Therefore, the following entries, on India and on my last week in Thailand will be attempts to make sense of these crazy times.

(from the top left)

1. vs. 3: Respite from chaos vs. the Angry Taxi Cabs of Kolkata
As soon as we stepped out of the airport, we immediately encountered India's unapologetic in-your-face culture as taxi cab drivers fought over who would get our ticket. But we knew this place would hold so many unexpected things, so with a mai pen rai attitude that would make Thailand proud, we soldiered on to the city's noisy greetings. Kolkata is by far the noisiest (and noisome) city I've ever been to: the car horns of varying pitches, the bells of rickshaws, the screech of motorcycles, the zoom of auto rickshaws, the yelling of drivers, were among a sample of discordant noises of the city, reflecting the collective heartbeats of its dwellers aloud. Whenever Steph and I needed to retreat from the unruliness of the city, we would stay at our rustic guesthouse and ponder at the noises, sights and smells of the outside.

2. Visiting Mother Theresa's Mission House
Seeing Mother Theresa's tomb and humble quarters was a powerful experience. Walking through an exhibit highlighting her work really showed the intense suffering India's impoverished population. She spent her days in Kolkata working everyday in Kalighat, tending to the sick and dying. The images of the homeless, to the brink of starvation tugged an emotional ache within me that left an acrid taste in my long after I left the place. Her life was an incredible revelation of devotion to faith, prayer and boundless emotional stamina, even to the point of derangement.

4. Spicy India
My traveling buddy Steph and I will forever worship India's food. With the immense culinary vocabulary, it was hard to try and taste everything we could get a hold of, but what we did eat was just knock-your-socks off awesome. The diversity of spices was awakening, apart from the usual alarm of the chili pepper. From the streets rolls to kebabs, to dosas to kormas to thalis to naans and koftas, eating in India is a surefire highlight of our travels.

5. Colonial-era buildings
One cannot miss the once majestic structures of the colonial buildings peppering the street blocks of Kolkata. Inspiring thought and prose, the towering architectures left by the British are now decaying beneath the crushing weight of modernity and nature's ability to uproot the artifice of man. They are now plastered with soot and grime, and at times, whole trees will sprout out of destroyed cement blocks, seemingly clawing for the light of the sun.

6. The Kalighat Temple
This sole photo of the temple is courtesy of Steph, before we had to leave because a loony old man who started muttering incomprehensible gibberish would not leave us alone.
Never before have I been bullied into good fortune, blessing my family, and a lifetime of fertility until I visited this temple. Heeding the advice of a kind woman Steph and I met at the Victoria Memorial Park, we decided to satisfy our curiosities and visit this popular Hindu temple. We must have just caught it at a bad time, because from the moment Steph and I stepped in, we were ushered in by a fake brahmin priest that would not leave us alone and showed us the the important sites of the temple, without our willing consent. Overall, it was an intense experience seeing our independence run away, forced to make extravagant donations and forced to make homage to goddess Kali in a really vulgar manner (THROW THE PETAL INSIDE MADAM DOOR IS CLOSING!! THROW!). It didn't help that the temple was itself in a pretty shady area and you can only see the top dome because it was surrounded with a maze of bazaars and shops, where persistent touts dwell. It only occurred to me to think of the place in more compassionate terms upon discovering that this was the area where Mother Theresa did most of her work to help the poor.

Overall, spending a little bit of time in Kolkata was probably a good introduction to traveling in India. I am incredibly grateful for having a traveling buddy with an unflinching sense of optimism and the kind of humor that dispels anxieties aside. However unruly and wild, the city itself was also sympathetic to us novice travelers, bright eyed and silenced in awe of its wonderful anarchic chaos.

Busy Busy Busy

2010-09-18T06:19:00.000-07:00

Well it's no surprise that I've run out of time, with attending many farewell parties, packing, and visiting friends, that I've had no time to blog as I wished. Right now, my room is bare, with the somethings new, somethings old stuffed into two suitcases. What a whirlwind this year has been, but the adventure is not over! I will be traveling to India for two weeks, and then I will update the last few weeks in my blog. In the meantime, I will try to leave Nakhon Phanom less tearless than days before, and I will leave you with this reflection on traveling.

Photo taken at The Good Mook Coffee Shop, Mukdahan

Ahan Thai: An Epicure's Conclusions

2010-09-13T07:49:00.000-07:00

Now that I have spent nearly an entire year dining on local Thai cuisine every day, I feel that I can declare a sound judgment (backed by meals and meals of evidence) on the dishes that make my heart beat a little faster upon sight. Without further ado, here are my most favorite Thai dishes... ever.

Som Tam

Tam papaya, pok pok! It is very nice! Eat with sticky rice!
These are lines from a song I sing with my students ever since we covered the vegetables and fruits units. Som tam is traditionally made with shredded papaya, garlic, lots of chilis, tomatoes, and limes pounded in a mortal and pestle duo. Depending on the region, this national favorite is tinkered to satisfy the locals partialities. Tam Isaan/ Laos adds more fish sauce than usual, and other accoutrements such as crabs and small fishes. I've even seen snails tossed in as well. My favorite Tam is more of the Thai variety, less salty and with peanuts and green beans.

Laap Nua

Another Isan dish makes it into my select favorites. When I ask my students what they are making for lunch, I can tell when we're eating laap because they are usually very happy. Laap, from what I gather means minced meat. There are other varieties made with fish, pork, or chicken, but I root for the beef. The ground beef is minced and stir fried with chili peppers, basil, garlic, mint leaves, sauces of the yet unknown but highly approved sort. Usually accompanied by fresh long beans and sticky rice, Laap is the perfect meal on a blazing hot, sultry day.

Guway Tiyaw Nua

On cool rainy days, I usually enjoy sitting at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that will only make one perfect dish: guway tiyaw. Like many Thai dishes, there are many permutations on the recipe (from various meats to noodle sizes and kinds), but I love eating this yummy noodle soup with sen lek (big noodles) and with nua (beef). The restaurants specializing in this dish let the broth simmer all day to achieve the optimum flavor. Condiments include vinegar, dried chili flakes, sugar, fish sauce, and sweet chili sauce. It's kind of the Thai equivalent of customizing your favorite coffee at Starbucks.. but way better.

Khana Moo Gop

Khana Moo Gop has to be my go-to stir fried dish in Thailand. In my first few months here, I mourned and was nostalgic for my broccoli and spinach, but quickly forgot this silliness when I discovered the availability and ubiquity of chinese kale! It's like broccoli and spinach decided to get married and had the best looking children of all in the kingdom of greens. Sweet and crunchy, this kale (khana) is tantalizing when stir fried with crispy pork and fresh chilis in oyster sauce. Aroy mak mak! (Very delicious!)

Tom Yum Koong

Without fail, Tom Yum Goong makes my tastebuds dance. Seeing the dish has a very strange Pavlov effect on me. Tom Yum is a hot and sour soup, comprised of lemon grass, ginger, kaffir lime leaves, chilis, tomatoes, mushrooms, onions and garlic in broth (note: the first three ingredients in the list are not to be eaten. I learned this from experience). Tom yum comes with fish, squid, or shrimp, but I definitely like the shrimp best, especially if caught right when I placed the order (oh yes, this happens in Thailand). I almost have it every day for lunch at one of my schools and tom yum has yet to disappoint me. Tom yum deserves its name indeed, for it is definitely a yummy piece of dish.

I can definitely empathize with Elizabeth Gilbert and her particular chapter in Italy on Eat, Pray, Love. I graduated from college with a lot of weight lost into my thesis, and I also went through a lot of heavy emotional challenges at the beginning of my service. Hence, I was much thinner than I was now, but thanks to the incredible tastes of Thailand, I have grown to be a more sated, healthier person. My tastebuds have not only been invigorated (sometimes to the point of nearly scalding my tongue from an offending piece of chili), but my thirst for life and experience has expanded and deepened. Cheers to that!

To the Market, to the Market: On Sights, Smells, and Insights.

2010-09-09T08:14:00.000-07:00

A series of collages, designed to replicate the market viewing experience in Nakhon Phanom:

From left to right: cucumbers, yai and lek, fish heads, fresh produce

From left: bags of dried chili, rubber flip flops, fresh curries

From left, to right: grilled squid with tumeric, heaps of dragonfruit in season, woven sticky rice carriers

From left, to right: fresh vegetables sai tung, ripe pumpkin in season, tomatoes and limes

from left, to right: desserty-licious custard apples, silks for sale, boiled peanuts

Were the array of images dizzying and arbitrary? An overload for the senses? If I could somehow convey not just the sights, but also the varying sounds and the smells constituting the market, I would. My usual market (talat) is chaotic, noisome, and loud. Therefore, I look forward to making my usual rounds to buy food and other etcetera items for the house. One of the biggest ways I've adjusted to life in Nakhon Phanom has surprisingly been the happy preoccupations of the domestic sort, and going to the market has become now become an act of effortless meditation, amidst the disorder and noise around me. Navigating various stalls of produce, meats, clothing, shoes, and other knick knacks has infused Zen into my life.

The market is redolent of discordant aromas: the trail of smells, from the roasting meats on a spitting fire, to the chili and spices, to the fragrant fruits and vegetables, the pungent herbs, to the distinct stench of raw meat, defy the sterile and emotionally arid supermarkets of the States. Here, the markets follow a faint sense of order and category; divisions between produce, meat, and textiles are more guidelines rather than rules. It won't be out of the ordinary to find an island of butchered fish-heads next to heaps of rubber flip flops for sale. Nor rows of raw seafood next to a coconut drink stand.

Despite my unflinching yearning for organization (now buried deep within my consciousness), I find the dissonance about the market appealing. You don't take a stand for granted, and each one will stand on its own. You have to vigilant-- since the produce stands are scattered, you don't want to settle on a mundane tomato and stumble upon an incredibly vibrant one, freshly plucked from the vine. All the colors stand out. The activity is so bustling and stimulating. People-watching becomes an inevitable activity to complement the shopping.

One of my favorite things about the fresh / night markets here in NKP is the glowing karma of the foods you buy. Produce is local, and you buy directly from the farmer (yes farmer's markets are predominant around here) or the producer. Moreover, produce here come in seasons, so you never buy a product forced to flourish at the wrong times, and you have something to look forward to in various periods of the year. This month, dragonfruit is in season; their hot pink skins glow in the color palette of September's markets!

It goes on without saying that the best thing about buying food... is eating it! While I cross things off my shopping list, it's very easy to satisfy my cravings by munching on a snack, whether it's a grilled meat on a stick, fruit, or a dessert of some kind. My go-to is usually a bag of sour mango and the complimentary sugar, salt, and chili dip.

Fruit a la carte

I will surely miss the Sunday and mid-week routine of dropping by the fresh markets in my village. I'm sure I will find some farmer's market to lose myself in, but none that can compare to the sights, sounds, and smells of the fresh markets in Thailand.

I Spy with my Little Eye, Something that Begins with a Letter B

2010-09-08T03:01:00.000-07:00

Here is a clue, it involves more than just pens, crayons and glue:
Maybe a little imagination, some fun, and maybe some rhyming too.

We are working on a cumulative semester project, and the best one will be posted here soon.

Rocking out in the Village

2010-09-06T05:46:00.000-07:00

Like most of the events circulating my life here in Thailand (or rather, my life circulating such events), I dropped in on what I only thought to be a Thai festival but instead, was a huge celebration for the King. While there are many festivities in honor of the King, this was one was of epic proportions. For one, I did not expect a prominent Thai band, Carabao to play at this concert.

Me, Trish and her visiting friend Tiela decided to drop by because everyone around town had their tongues wagging about this event all day last Tuesday. My students in particular were pretty inquisitive, if not insistent, on my attendance. Trisha's fellow teacher kept calling her that afternoon in talks of a rendezvous. When we walked out of our house, the highway was lined with cars and trucks on end, and crowds of people walking towards the army base donning pink shirts and bearing Thai flags on sticks. Everyone wearing pink means serious business.

A blurry vision of the band onstage (pre-recognition)

EVERY PERSON wearing pink and dancing with Thai flags

It was only after walking around the backstage and circumnavigating the mud did I realize how special this festival was. After many overnight bus rides, it is impossible not to recognize the famous Thai band Carabao (in their youth, two of the band members studied in the Philippines!) with their videos and music playing loud and clear on the stereo. I was supremely excited when I realized it was them singing on stage, and even asked if the girl was collaborating with them! I was less than a hundred feet away from Thai superstars! How lucky was I?!

It was a treat to watch the usual villagers unzipped of their daily preoccupations and rock out to the music. I really wish that I had acquired enough Thai at this point to sing along. Nevertheless I had a great time swaying to the beat of the music and marveling at the band's exceptional guitar skills (read: MAD skillz).

At points during the night, when I again receded into the depths of my thinking, the base aligning to the tempo of my heartbeats, I began to think of how the King has, and continues to be a unifying force for the country all across socio-economic lines, as well as a vanguard for the nation's self-identity. Such reflection turned inward, and I then started to wonder what were the unifying, overarching forces that held me together during the year. These will be explored at a later post. For now, I am amazed at how seamless my integration into my community turned out to be. I did it-- it happened without my conscious awareness--I had acclimated in Thailand psychologically, spiritually and emotionally, at some points gradually and some dramatically. With my last two weeks here in Nakhon Phanom, it is so difficult to live in the present with the past and future tense and demanding my attention and reflection. I am striving to recognize the gift of every day, the present, while trying to have a healthy balance of looking at my life in retrospect, and pragmatically looking ahead.

The only way to achieve this for now, is not to let moment like Carabao run past me while I linger in my thoughts. So I am resolved, for the next couple of weeks to relish the present, mindful of the richness of my past and ever-so hopeful for my future. Here's to rocking out my 11 months in Thailand!

Lessons and Milestones

2010-09-01T06:55:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I approach Tuesdays and Thursdays with a little dread, aware of some unknown soul-trying challenges lurking in the seemingly benign corners of Na Bpong school. If I'm luckily, they're usually the predictable classroom chaos, unwelcome fondles from innocent first graders, and uncooperative 5th grade boys with growing egos. Last week however, was just one of those days that made me want to cry on the spot, swear I would not step foot in the 5th and 6th grade classrooms again come hell or high water, even if it means I won't get my stipend.

This year, I have tried my best to inculcate the value of working independently, regardless of whether or not a worksheet or a test receives a hundred percent. But because the prevailing academic mentality here is perfection, it does not matter whether or not a student produced his or her own work. As long as there are perfect answers, perfect lines with dotted i's, they are safe from the policing of the teacher stick (yes, it's a hitting stick.) But this teleological, deeply flawed approach has prevented my students from summoning up enough confidence in their intelligence to fulfill their work (or I suppose, the diligence to finish it themselves.) Last Thursday, I caught one of my better students giving out the answers to the class bully like it was an infectious disease, in order to win some social favors. In retrospect, I realized my mistakes in approaching this problem:

a. I was marking off finished worksheets at a corner in the room, where we track students' progresses. When I saw this happening, I pointed it out to the entire classroom, and the entire class lost some of their stars.

b. My explanation for the consequences of cheating were probably inadequate, as I got flustered and visibly upset

c. I made the incredibly regrettable mistake of saying that in America, it was strictly forbidden to copy each others' work. Instead, I should have said that in every school, cheating is strictly forbidden because it hinders learning and personal accountability.

To this comment, my best student responded by saying "this isn't America. this is Na Bpong school" in Thai, which of course, I can understand. That comment gave me a huge reality check, a slap in the face, and collapsed my hubris. Of course, how could I make this egregious, irrelevant and inconsiderate comparison? I hurt their feelings, but I didn't recognize it at the time so I quietly collected my things and walked out of the classroom.

This week, when remorse settled in, I got numerous apology letters, and affirmations of friendship from my 5th and 6th grade class. Here's an example:

It reads: "Ud sorry. Ud love Teacher Coconut"

On Tuesday we had a brief discussion on why it isn't good to cheat and why it hurt my feelings. I am impressed by their genuine and immediate apologies, and how much they were also willing to forgive my mistakes. These are the occasions where I am so deeply humbled by this tough profession. It is a reminder that while I have acquired some finesse with teaching, I have still much to learn.

On the other hand, today is also an occasion to celebrate student milestones! In my 6th grade class at Thai Samakee, we worked on hobbies and the triumvirate of speaking, listening and writing by interviewing everyone in the class about their favorite hobbies. I have a student Jack, who started off the year behind his classmates and who hung out with a couple of boys who have now dropped out of school. He was timid, recluse, and did not like to participate in our activities as much as the other kids. Now, he is the source of praise (the only initial student who could recall "dragonfruit" in english!) and has become more and more confident in his abilities. Today, I was amazed at how he asked "What do you like to do?" to all his classmates so confidently and nonchalantly, as if he were telling the time. He may have finished last, but I was so proud to see how his hard work has paid off. Even during lunch time, I heard him asking puzzled students what they like to do. All in all, the progress these 6th graders have made since the first time I saw them has floored me. I was a very proud teacher today, sneaking off wiping a tear or two maybe, as I heard them chatter "I like to cook food" and "Joom likes to dance" all day.

Here is a copy of Jack's work, with correct grammar and dotted i's.

Better late than never: WAKA WAKA WorldTeach Thailand!

2010-08-24T07:29:00.000-07:00

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)

2010-08-18T05:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-16T03:59:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-08-09T00:35:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-08-02T09:29:00.000-07:00

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.

Following Michael Pollan: An Omnivore's Haven in Nakhon Phanom

2010-07-23T02:21:00.000-07:00

I've always been a fan of Michael Pollan's work, ever since reading "The Omnivore's Dilemma" and its inevitable transformation of my perspectives on food, health, and responsible eating operating in the scientific, political, moral, and socio-cultural realms. I found "In Defense of Food," the sequel to his initial work, at a friendly book stall in Bangkok's Chinatown neighborhood, selling for a price I could actually afford. The deal was too good to pass up, and the temptation to add variety to my current reading collection too great.

About a week and 200 pages later, (and about 30 pages worth of references- Pollan did his research) I realized that during my time here in Thailand, I had been performing all the food algorithms Pollan suggests in order to practice a sustainable way of eating as a part of a community and a resident being of this earth. The food culture in rural Thailand (I cannot say the same for Bangkok, where it is starting to desperately mirror a Western way of living, but that's another pedantic entry reserved for later) starkly contrasts the Western way of eating and living in so many dimensions, and the people here are in the better for it.

(A brief interjection: I am mindful of the stream of implications when I say "Western." By this, I mean an American way of living and its cultural exports. I am mindful also, that the "West" is not one giant cultural monolith-- it is a brief generalization for the sake of convenience.)

Living in Nakhon Phanom made me realize just how incredibly antiseptic life can be in America, and often to our detriment. Sometimes our food can be so incredibly processed by industry, that our relationship with nature gets lost, well, in the process. Here in Nakhon Phanom, the chicken you may be eating might easily be the one that woke you up that morning. Fresh meat and produce alight local open air markets. They don't travel very far to avoid the expense of refridgerated trucks. This inconvenience might easily be overcome in America, but for the locals, this is actually an advantage--products are bought locally, so the communities support each other, carbon footprints are reduced, and best of all, the food is absolutely fresh and their nutrients kept intact. Processed foods lie hidden in the backstage. Consumers here have a much closer relationship with nature; they are accountable to their land and are therefore responsible eaters.

Pollan explains that the longer food takes to prepare, the healthier it is. Here in rural Thailand, the production and consumption of food can easily become the centerpiece of every day. At my school, the students collectively prepare the food for lunch long before the first period starts. Because they don't have the same conveniences Americans enjoy (I haven't seen a microwave in a long time) every thing becomes a labor a love, to be savored by every one during the meal. I understand that modern conveniences are created for many purposes; I don't want to end up indicting the Western civilization. I just wanted to emphasize how enviable that locals here put such emphasis on meals. They might live simpler and more modest lives, but when it comes to gathering and eating, the meal isn't one more chore one has to fulfill. Food might be more scarce, but every mouthful is important. A good meal constitutes good company, family, congregation, and a close affiliation with nature. Concomitantly, good health follows good meals. What I've realized is, without all the convenience and glamour of Western technology, people here take better care of their health, and the earth.

In keeping with this philosophy (although the practice preceded the realization) my vegetarian roommate and I prepare our dinners every night from scratch. If we make black bean burgers, the beans are soaked overnight, boiled for hours the next day, mushed by a fork and driven by willpower, handpattied, and fried. Whew. But man, the first bite, dissolves all the bad things in the world and suddenly Republicans no longer exist. After eating like this for several months, I feel physically stronger. More importantly though, it gave me an incredible appreciation for good and real food and all the cooks in the world who subscribe to a real food philosophy. Bon Appetit.

Well, I have now made myself incredibly hungry and will saunter down to the kitchen. This week, school has been cancelled for me so my friends and I are going to Vientiane, Vang Vieng and Luang Prabang in Laos. Have a wonderful week everyone!

My Favorite Thai Tradition: String Tying

2010-07-19T03:36:00.001-07:00

It's been two weeks since my mom arrived in Bangkok and greeted Thailand's hot, humid air out of the airport. I regret not having blogged about her visit much earlier, but things here have been so busy, and school lately has been exhausting. Needless to say, spending time with my mom at school and traveling with her has been a blast!

After our prolonged bus ride from Bangkok, my mom, Trish, and I arrived at Ban Thai Samakee travel weary. Unfortunately, we could not forgo attending school that day because (unbeknown to her at the time) I had arranged a surprise for my mom. My favorite Thai tradition happens to be the string tying ceremony, performed when a person is either arriving or leaving. It is a warm extension of hospitality and endless wishes of good fortune. During the beginning of my service, a particular string ceremony allayed by initial fears as a volunteer. I felt the incredible grace and hospitality of Thais extinguish my anxieties away. I wanted my mom to experience this ceremony, where strangers literally reach out for your hand in order to welcome you to their community.

So that Monday, around 4 pm, an hour later when the celebration was supposed to start, the person appointed to initiate the ceremony arrives (Thai-style) in his motorcycle and immediately everyone gathers around me, my mom and Trish. Teachers and directors from both of my schools and Trisha's schools attend and 15 minutes into the ceremony we are all kneeling, huddled close, and following the initiator's chants. Occasionally, breaks of humor ensued, keeping the atmosphere light-hearted and warm.

Then, one by one, all the teachers, directors and even students, accompanied by even more unfamiliar individuals, proceed to grab string from the ceremony's centerpiece (called Bai Si). My mom and I hold sticky rice and a boiled egg on one hand while each and everyone tie a string around our wrist and wish us welcome. By the end of the ceremony, our wrists are bound by perpetual luck (handsome husbands looming in our future! Dad: this must mean that you will age very gracefully) and hospitality. We are bound, by a generations-old cultural tradition, that makes our inextricable ties to each other tangible. I always feel a transcendent kind of energy whenever and wherever this practice is performed, whether it be in a temple, or spontaneously by a group of old, betel chewing women.

Here are some pictures from this wonderful event:

Following the culture's love for congregation and eating, we all feasted on delicious Thai food to close the day.

Letter to Prospective Volunteers, with Regards to the Protests in Bangkok

2010-07-18T18:05:00.001-07:00

Dear prospective volunteers and parents,

My name is Valerie Lopez and I am currently a WorldTeach Thailand volunteer. I am writing to corroborate my Thailand Field Director's letter which affirms the safety of WorldTeach Thailand volunteers in Nakhon Phanom.

First of all, I wanted to reiterate that our program follows a very specific evacuation protocol should our safeties be compromised-- a testament to WorldTeach's commitment to its volunteers. When the initial instances of violence in Bangkok began to ensue, Nell swiftly reminded us of this protocol and outlined an emergency evacuation plan should the need arise. Throughout the national crisis, Nell gave us the latest precautions from the US embassy and news updates from Bangkok.

Bangkok did bear its national turmoil in its own streets. One cannot miss the heartbreaking photographs plastered all over the newspapers around the world. Even The Economist predicted an imminent civil war in Thailand's political horizon. It is then very easy to assume that the dangers in Bangkok are representative of all civilian circumstances in Thailand. However, I (and the other volunteers can attest), that while Bangkok might have been perilous, Nakhon Phanom couldn't have been more different.

I was only aware of the violence in Bangkok through my teachers' snippets of conversation, and ironically enough, through international news sources online. Life here continued to be quite peaceful and the possibilities of danger remained on the fringes. If I had not paid attention to the media at all I would have had no idea of the violent confrontations between the Red Shirts protestors and the government. Here, we are surrounded by an incredible local community full of extremely generous and kind individuals.

I wanted to reach out to all prospective volunteers and their parents who may be dismayed, distraught, and discouraged from committing to the program. More than ever, Thailand needs your help. If anything, the protests, among other factors, arose out of the socio-economic gap between the impoverished communities of Thailand, and the ruling, privileged class. Education can be an incredibly democratizing force. The possible work of future volunteers here, have bearing on the empowering forces of education.

I will be more than happy to answer your questions over email. Please feel free to contact me at valerie.r.lopez@gmail.com.

Sincerely Yours,

Valerie Lopez, WorldTeach Thailand '09

Class Photos #1

2010-07-01T01:19:00.000-07:00

Na Bpong- Grade 5 and 6

Na Bpong - Grade 3 and 4, everyday hugs

Grade 3, 4

Na Bpong - Grade 1 and 2

photos courtesy of my mom and her nice camera

Travel Excerpts: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

2010-06-18T05:58:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-06-16T02:02:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-06-13T03:34:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-07T07:31:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-06-06T01:04:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-04T20:09:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-03T00:42:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-01T06:32:00.000-07:00

"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.

Travel excerpts: Ruminating on Umphang and Mae Sot

2010-05-26T00:42:00.000-07:00

Because I have no longer an excuse to procrastinate on an update, I will do so, if anything as a token of gratitude for the pelting rain, immediately ameliorating the day's heat...

"April 2nd, Baan Rub Aroon, Chiang Rai

I begin the documentation of these travels in medias res, and by now I have already visited the border town of Mae Sot, a town where the the cultures of Thailand and Burma intersect. At this moment, I am in bed, armed for the day with a wonderful cup of real coffee, and Kate is at my side perusing her copy of The Lonely Planet, our travel bible.

Being ensconced in a tangle of white sheets has reminded me to appreciate the departure from the stark and dubious accommodations we had in Umphang. Deemed as needing major TLC, we stayed at this resort which suffered from the attack of after-rain insects, mainly slugs and ants.

Accommodations aside, Umphang was absolutely beautiful. We paddled downstream a beautiful lazy river (river Khlong) which was the perfect conduit into the heart of the jungle. We paid a cursory visit to hot springs, and later on swam in the bottom pool of Thailand's biggest waterfall, Thi Lor Suk. Although I regrettably declined out of jumping, it was still quite the experience.

To get in and out of Umphang is a feat in it of itself. Winning the title "Death Highway," the mountainous terrain to Umphang includes 200+ curves, whose roads lie right on the edge of steep mountains, and whose views alone can induce nausea for those with even a slight fear of heights (me). Our vehicle was no mean pick-up truck/ SUV/ minivan-- we rode a regular songthaew, the conventional mode of transportation here in Thailand. They look like pick-up trucks with seats that face each other on that back. It's absolutely fine if you're traveling from one town to another, but a different matter when you're sitting with 21 other people, squished like canned tuna, with children sitting on your feet, for a total of 5 hours. Add the ubiquitous and frequent vomiting, stolen water bottles and seating spaces, and you have the perfect storm for the most challenging transportation experience (in retrospect I think Caitlyn and Steph top me on this with their excruciating 3rd class train ride). I would not be surprised if animals are ferried in these songthaews, if they could still manage the space. Still, it's one of those experiences that easily turn into the greatest stories if you somehow manage to emerge intact and breathing.

Before this venture to Umphang, we stayed for two nights at this little town of Mae Sot, briefly aforementioned. It is Mukdahan's ( bordering Laos) lateral opposite. There, I tried a little bit of Burmese cuisine. I loved the tea the most, it reminds me so much of chai! I like recognizing the cultural influences of a place, and I definitely felt like I tasted a little bit of India in my introduction to the Burmese palate. My most interesting cultural education in Mae Sot, however, revolves around a particular female heroine who plays a major part in Burma's National Democratic Party, the current political opposition to the military junta currently in place (illegitimately). Her name is Aung Sung Suu Kyi, and she has spent close to 20 years under house arrest and celebrated her 64th birthday in prison. She won the Noble prize in 1991 and has campaigned against human rights violation in Burma for her entire political career. Burmese history is one in which I had very little familiarity, so she has definitely piqued my interest.

Aung San Suu Kyi has definitely enriched my fascination with the role of women in facilitating peace processes. There are documentations everywhere, I feel, that vindicate the women's role in healing a fragmented, war-torn nation-state and empowering impoverished and even religiously oppressed communities. Examples abound: women peacekeepers in NIgeria, female community leaders in South Africa, Afghanistan, Iran.. etc. Suu Kyi is a testament to this potentially transformative power of female leadership, a trajectory towards equality and democracy against oppressive paternalist forces (er, the military). It's almost too crude to point that the house arrest is just another telling metaphor for the illegitimate government's efforts to subdue feminist power back into the domestic sphere.

Mae Sot-- I will not forget the quaint coffee shop of Auntie's, the rain that pelted that Sunday morning (thwarting our attempts to cross to Myanmar), its people and their decorated faces, the bustle of the gem industry, and the markets replete with raw cuisines of the exotic sort.

I have had a great and absorbing travel so far, with high hopes that the rest of my trip will be enlightening like this."

To view some of my pictures, click on the "Travel Photos" page on the right.

I'm Back!

2010-05-19T06:03:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to update, but it seems that settling back into the daily grind has been more complicated. I've managed to post some pictures on facebook, but I fully intend on entering some excerpts from my travel journal, accompanied of course, by some photos. I have absolutely loved backpacking laterally, and longitudinally across Thailand. There's such a transformative power concomitant with traveling-- I feel like a new person after every time I travel.

Needless to say, I'm very happy to be back. Some changes this semester: Now I have an English classroom of my own in both schools, a favor granted by both my directors. Coincidentally, my classrooms are also the resident libraries, so I plan on incorporating the advantages of my setting. My schedule is also amended for this semester- hopefully the way my time is divided with the two schools fosters better learning and memory for my students.

Lastly, I wanted everyone to know that I am quite safe here in Nakhon Phanom, despite the turbulence Bangkok is embroiled with at present. Interestingly, the latest headline in the Nytimes website signals a possibility of stability. I sure hope so, because my mom will be visiting next month!

An Unorthodox End of the Semester

2010-03-25T00:20:00.000-07:00

Packing can be so so daunting, especially when your entire needs are going to need to fit into a bag or two. In order to avoid another existential crisis, I'm taking a break by posting this entry, an account of my recent culinary rendezvous with a local delicacy: fried cicadas.

MMhm. You heard me right. I figure since I've been persuaded to eat crickets and red ant eggs, what's another invertebrate, right? So after almost a semester of goading, I finally gave in to my teachers' (and my students' ) challenge.

I know this picture is off-topic, but it was the school's last day! Had to take some silly pictures with the students.

Here, today's adventure begins. A venture to the forest (still part of the school grounds) in search of the visually inconspicuous yet easily audible fast food.

Here's what them little buggers look like. Kind of cute actually, looks like they have a koala nose.

Yes, that's me, holding a 15 foot long bamboo pole, with something really sticky attached to the end. This apparatus is actually quite efficient. All you have to do, is gently tap the cicada and the hunt is done.

You see that little speck at the end of the stick? There's my dessert.

It took Trisha several attempts in order to hold it. They are a lot bigger than you can imagine and they flap their wings like nobody's business.

Clipping their wings so they can't get away... This really is quite the process.

And off they go to the frying pan! Add some grease, MSG, and voila..

Chim-doo, chim-doo (taste taste!)

Crunchy, yet satisfying. Dare I say an adequate substitute to curly fries (with protein too!)?

Alright, this blog entry will be it for a while. I am off to my travels tomorrow (spanning Northern Thailand, and then the southern islands) and won't dare go near a computer. See you all, and wish me safe travels!

Another Atypical Day: Delivering Letters.

2010-03-18T02:34:00.000-07:00

9:00 am rolls around and I stare out my window hoping, eagerly awaiting the glimpse of a car, or a motorcycle, ready to whisk me off to school. Does this sound a little too industrious? maybe, but the past two weeks have been littered with class cancellations for a variety of (not entirely legitimate) reasons (as usual). This means that I have had minimum class time with my students. This means, that I haven't had much time to review our semester material, especially with the 6th graders because March marks the end of their academic year. Fail.

Granted, I was more excited by the fact that I had made these cards for my 6th graders that had a group picture of all of us, than the cumulative semester activity I had in mind, but still. I think this still qualifies as a sound reason for wanting to go to school.

Once Trisha was dutifully picked up, I huffed and puffed and resolved to ride Zoom!Bella (my red bike, perpetually out of air) all the way to Baan Na Bpong, which is the village where the school resides, in order to deliver the cards to the sixth graders that I won't see again. The morning bike ride was quite lovely actually, despite the tropical sun, as the cool winds were to my favor (perhaps an omen from the universe concurring with my wholly impulsive decision?).

I pulled up into the village, conveniently as one my 6th graders walks out of his house. Promptly, I delivered the card I had made the afternoon before, and asked if he could show me where all the other 6th graders lived.

Feeling like somewhat of a celebrity again, the Na Bpong students traversing around the village proceeded to follow me around as I delivered the cards. It was really nice being able to see where the students lived, and even meet some of their parents.

A crazy, crazy thing: when I was a child, I used to climb trees in order to get these berry-like fruits. We called them "aratilis" is Tagalog, and how fitting must it be, to see this tree, a relic of my youth, among a throng of Thai school children. A village student helped me, oddly enough, reclaim a forgotten berry of my childhood. I think this symmetry is quite poignant.

Now that my camera is fixed (800 baht later), I took some pictures. Definitely enjoyed my day off--it was well spent glimpsing the everyday experiences of my students, and being able to see them beyond the context of our classroom.

Me and some of the students who joined in on the parade:

Showing off their cards:

A student of mine, with her nong chai ai (shy little brother):

My two resident troublemakers:

More card deliveries!

Khan, my day's helper (and no, he wasn't on stilts all day):

(a slightly more formal picture)

(don't tell, but Paw is one of my favoritest students of all time)

I loves them.

Brown is Beautiful

2010-03-06T23:08:00.000-08:00

For the past three weeks, I've been working on "The Body" unit with all of my students. In order to reinforce the lessons, my students have worked on self-portraits and self-evaluations. Both are fascinating projects. I've had the pleasure of observing how my students see and portray themselves. A lot of them drew themselves as not necessarily how they look literally, but what they fantasize themselves to be--cartoon characters with comically sized muscles and brightly colored hair. Kids at this age take full advantage the freedom to imagine themselves as whatever they want to be, superpowers or not, unshackled by their present realities. So what if their family lives in a tiny village? They can be Goku if they want. This particular imagination is what I dearly hope will not dissolve over time. However, the desires to be someone else different is also two-pronged.

One of my aims in these exercises is to instill the notion that being beautiful or handsome does not require a specific set of characteristics. Here, is it widely accepted that lighter skin, an aquiline nose, and being thin as beautiful. I want to take a hammer and squash these perceptions to pieces. I want them to understand that beautiful comes in different shapes, sizes, and colors. I wanted them to realize that brown is not the apricot crayon that comes in a box. There are no "Dove" campaigns here to disrupt the conventional notions of beauty, so there might be no one around telling my students that they are beautiful the way they are. I wanted them to realize that being beautiful is something one can independently claim and assert, and not some aesthetic value, appropriated by society, to aspire to. I want them to understand that imagining themselves as something else, something that holds more power, might not even be necessary, when they realize the kinds of powers they already have.

Yes all these I hoped from a simple exercise. It may have not succeeded the way I wanted to, but who knows. They will hearken back to this simple school project and at least they know that they can indeed think of themselves as beautiful.

Here are some sample projects. I apologize for using photobooth, my camera is currently in the repair shop...

My name is King.

I have short hair. I am tall. I am fat. I have a big nose. I am handsome.

My name is Pbit.

I have short. I am thin. I have a small nose. I am brown. I am handsome.

My name is Ai.

I have long black hair. I have small black eyes. I have a small nose. I have brown skin.

I am short. I am fat. I am beautiful.

My name is Urn.

I have short black hair. I have small black eyes. I have a small nose. I have brown skin.

I am short. I am thin. I am beautiful.

Here are some photos of my students drawing their self-portraits. Eventually, I plan to post a gallery of some of their works.

Mae Nam Kong, in the Dry.

2010-03-03T00:49:00.000-08:00

I thought it might be time to further elaborate the place where I'm living, and there's no describing Nakhon Phanom without mentioning the Mekong River, or the Mae Nam Khong, as the locals call it, which literally translates to "the mother river." With good reason--the Mekong River, spans from Tibetan plataeu, to China, Burma, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia and flows into the South China Sea. It is one of the world's 12th largest rivers at near 3000 miles. I had a crazy idea that it would be the most awesome trip to kayak down from Tibet, but I suppose rapids and waterfalls might compromise my corporeal integrity by the time I get to the sea... My roommate and I have made a pact to only visit Vietnam by boat (hearsay tells me it's only 80 baht...). During the dry season, there are even areas in Nakhon Phanom where tobacco plants supplant the river's flora.

This last weekend, my roommate and I visited the river and discovered that a beach had surfaced, most likely as a result of the dry season (hello daily 100 degree weather). Locals greeted the onset of the hot season by taking a dip into the river, sans traditional bathing attire. Most of them fully clothed, adult and child alike, combed the beach for some freshwater clams and lazed around in inner tubes. Trish and I walked for most of the day so our respite placed us at the river, just before the glorious sunset of Thailand.

Here are some of the pictures that Trish had taken:

I certainly hope that you are all enjoying yourselves back home, nestled safely away from this tropical heat. I am teaching my last three weeks of school before vacation starts, and then an epic backpacking odyssey throughout Thailand begins!

Things that keep me sane.

2010-02-25T05:15:00.000-08:00

As a dear friend has noted, I am approaching my 6th monthsary here in Thailand, by the end of March. I know, that's still another month to go, but I figured that I've spent a long enough time here to warrant a reflection of things that keep me sane. Who knows how universal they might be!

1. A great morning cup of coffee restores the soul. Even better when friends are in the mix.

My favorite beans come from Latin America, and Thailand being bereft of such, my amazing friends and family have risen to the occasion and sent me coffee grounds in glorious packages. I can't wait to start traveling in April just so I can put my grubby hands on some beans from Thailand and Laos. Also, a note to self, when I return home I will never use a coffee machine again. I'm swearing my oath of loyalty to a coffee press from now on.

2. My jogs on highway 22. On my best days I have a wonderful view of the sunset running up a hill. Yes it's 80-some degrees and it can be incredibly humid, but the stares I get that convey "is she off her rocker doing that?!" or seeing baby water buffalos playing in the water are rewards enough. My best run thus far has to be the one where I encountered a 60 yr old Thai man in short shorts, and as we passed each other we shared a Wai and a laugh.

3. Making dinner every night. My roommate is vegetarian, so we have had some really awesome dinner exploits. Black beans and rice, fried bananas, Indian curry and dhal, falafels, refried beans, pasta, homemade tortillas, ... oh my! The list goes on, but I also should say that we have come a loooong way in making things for dinner. We make everything from scratch, Soon I will dedicate a post cataloguing, with visual aids, our daily ahan yin. I always look forward to it, nearing the day's end, another ritual, another chore in which I can decompress. That is, on nights when our gas stove is not plotting to kill me and Trish...

4. Cleaning. My broom is my zen brush, and with each stroke, I swipe away all of life's debris.

5. Laughing. Both to yourself, and with friends. When you live in a village in Thailand, there are an exponential number of things to laugh about.

Of course, it goes without mentioning that on days that I really connect with my students, which is most of the time, I just get shivers knowing that I have, somehow, amidst all of life's variables and insanities, ended up doing a thing that makes me happy.

A year older, hopefully a little wiser.

2010-02-16T05:50:00.000-08:00

Oh birthdays! Let me just say that I got to spend this birthday right, surrounded by incredible volunteers with an 80's dance party, and students who threw me a huge party at school and gave me flowers and... yes, mango!

If someone had told me, last year, on my birthday, that I would be spending my 23rd here in Thailand, performing a ridiculous homage to the 80's, I would tell them that they were crazy. Just absolutely crazy.

Well, it can't be helped to look back in retrospect, and to think about how so many things in my life has changed within the span of one year. Big life things, I mean. I graduated from college. I finished a thesis. I packed up my life in a suitcase and a half and moved oceans away from home, to live in a Thai village and teach English to elementary school kids. For the past four months, I've learned an incredible amount of things that I wanted to share:

1. Wealth is defined by the amazing things that have come to occupy your heart, not your pocket. By our American standards I'm probably close to destitute. But in that case, I'm a very happy pauper. As I've witnessed through this American recession, money is just so transient. I've learned that one should pursue and hold on to fortunes that are more sustaining. A great example of emotional riches is your students haranguing you to play "Hey Jude" by The Beatles, because the song, whose meaning they can't yet decipher, has obviously struck an inner chord that keeps resonating. Another, is the family you can rapidly build, and whose support you cannot, absolutely, live without. (this is a shout out of my fellow volunteers).

2. Laughter is the best anodyne.

Freud speculates that laughter is symptomatic of anxiety. I agree, but to expand on that, it's the best way I've learned how to deal with the absence of the Western world luxuries. No running water? No functioning toilet? No proper plumbing? Near death experiences with my gas stove? Ubiquitous insect bites? No problem. Have a beer, and laugh at life.

3. There is no need, no rush, to live a conventional life.

And by conventional, I mean a life that most adults expect you to have. Go to college. Graduate. Work, or go to more schooling, graduate, and then work. Make lots of money. However, living here, and thinking about the things that I appreciate, I've learned that there is nothing wrong with a little bit of improvization with your life. It's like cooking--experimentation can lead to some amazing results. Traveling and volunteering has helped me expand my worldview, expand my horizon, and expand my heart, to capacities I'm only beginning to discover.

4. Happiness is working in service of others, and having fun while doing it.

More than ever, I want to have a career that lets me sleep at night knowing that I've done good things that day. My respect for the teaching profession has exponentially increased. What they do, or at least, what they are capable of doing for students, is absolutely incredible.

5. Home. Its definition is explosive.

Home, is where you can sit down and have a good meal. Home, is where you can have a good cup of coffee in the morning, hot off the press. Increasingly, through my experiences, home is location independent. Home is everywhere and nowhere. I want to keep it that way.

And now, after this long post, I've gotten prescriptive. But that is okay, because along the road I will read this again and think about whether the 23 yr old me got it right...

Much love from Nakhon Phanom.

ps, here's a very happy 23 year old, celebrating with birthday cake:

Nowhere you can be, that isn't where you're meant to be.

2010-02-12T01:42:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day, from Thailand.

Scenes from Na Bpong School

2010-02-07T05:04:00.001-08:00

It is a treat to have their picture taken, for some reason. I will exploit this to my full advantage :)

The 6th-graders pretty much run the school. Distributing and making lunch include some of their daily responsibilities.

A cramped classroom of twenty kids.

A school dog sleeps in the afternoon haze.

Children's playground. Although, I imagine the metal slides and bars are no fun when the sun is blazing.

1st graders helping the janitor clean up dead leaves.

He is half my size. He is adorable.

2nd graders sweeping the school clean.

They know a camera when they see one!

Na Bpong School. Student population: 80.

An Atypical Day, Part 2.

2010-02-03T02:29:00.000-08:00

Surprisingly enough, my Thai speaking skills are getting better after I thought I'd hit a plateau. Maybe it just takes a little while for your brain to become fully acclimated to a different language, but I feel like I'm more attune to understanding (and speaking!) Thai with the natives here. Also, it helps that I try to translate English vocabulary that I teach to my students into Thai, which I didn't realize was actually self-serving as well. After about 7 classes of teaching things over and over again, I have learned my fair share of Thai.

Which means, that I'm able to communicate more to my students! It's so great. Apparently at one of my schools, Thai Samakee, they've nicknamed me, Ms. Mi kuam sook, which means, Miss Happy. Hahah, I had to qualify that. Mai tukwan, I said. Not everyday. When students aren't giving me sass, I am happy. I've been able to joke around more, and even teased one of my teachers for having ten husbands, in Isan. Kru mi sip puan!! And the students just roared with laughter.

Today, turned out to be one of those atypical days again. I've been practicing simple prepositions with my 5th graders, and to reinforce the lesson, I decided to play a game where they have to stand in front, beside, behind, sit under, and sit on top of their partners. However, when I asked my students to stand up, one of the girls suddenly projectile vomits all over her hands, and I was like a deer caught in the headlights. It was one of the situations where I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what, like the time when Trisha was making dinner and the pipe from the gas stove loosens and suddenly we had 4 foot flames in the kitchen, and we just stared dumbly at it for a while.

But I digress. I quickly got my act together, fortunately, and took care of the poor girl. But being queasy as I was, at the sight of vomit in the classroom (and secretly worrying that I also ingested something nasty during lunch and was seconds away from suffering the same fate) I bleakly pantomimed for a mop. A tiny 5th grade boy came to my rescue, after I insisted we resume classes, and cheerfully, and deftly, mopped up the mess. I was pretty upset at myself for not having enough balls to do it, so in order to compensate the awesome superhero for his efforts, I gave him 20 baht and told him to get himself some sweets after school. This sort of thing definitely makes the job interesting, to say the last.

I am pretty excited for the next unit--which is parts of the body, and parts of the face. For next week, I asked them to bring mirrors (nam ma kra chok lek!) because we are going to do some serious self-portraits! I love integrating visual arts and songs in my classes, so naturally, because I am the sole autocrat in the classroom, the students will have to subject to my whims...

Hopefully I will bring my camera to school soon, so I can take photos of the every day and post them here. I admire the school kids for being so incredibly involved into how the school runs. Every morning, I watch them prepare food for the day's lunch, and then they wash all the dishes, and even look after the younger kids when the teachers are absent for an inordinate number of reasons. It is really admirable, compared to how school kids live in the states...

Noises, A Catalogue.

2010-01-28T00:56:00.000-08:00

My house, the center of discordant noises--

the crowing of roosters, in the early morn!

(and at night! confused by the yellow moon)

the constant tingling bell of some blasted dog's collar!

our neighbors' drunken off-key and off-putting karaoke!

our neighbors' children, playing at 4 am!

our neighbor's buffalo giving birth, seemingly without end!

our resident gecko (FITZWILLIAM) sounding out his mating calls!

rough engines of motorcycles!

domestic disputes!

packs of dogs in heat!

random trees falling down!

battles of kitchen mortar and pestle--

I like to think that Nature shamelessly flaunts the avant garde,

but in the cacophony of all these perpetual noises,

my sleep has been the sole casualty,

my sanity, dissolved.

Bizarre Thailand #2

2010-01-21T01:23:00.001-08:00

Why did the elephant cross the road?

To come give us luck, of course!

These were taken after our immediate arrival from Bangkok. I heard Caitlyn screaming, "you guys come see this, there's an elephant in front of your house" as she and Stephanie make their way to Pla Pak.

Contemplating Identity Politics

2010-01-20T00:34:00.000-08:00

At times, it still boggles me that frequently, some Thais still perceive the United States as a homogenous, Anglo-Saxon state, while they ironically glorify Pres. Obama at the same time. Clearly, there is some disconnection here, a valley, a gap that must be connected. Is Obama a mere celebrity figure? I feel patronizing when I sit them down and explain that fair skin is not requisite to be an American. Maybe subvert, and expand their world views a little bit. Identifying oneself as an American is a personal allegiance, one that is wrought by a personal history, and not as an inherited biological ethnicity. National identity is a choice, it is fluid, it is imaginary, it is performative.

With that said, my experiences here have been interesting. Those who know me as coming from America identify me as a "farang," a foreigner. There are certain implications with this knowledge--they treat me as an outsider, but not necessarily in a negative way. I am treated very hospitably as a visitor, and there are definitely special treatments involved. However, as a farang, I remain outside, divorced from their native culture and community, although I try to participate in it every day. I think I will have a better impact in my students' education if I am better integrated, but I know this effort will need to come from all parties involved.

With those that are not familiar with me, I am commonly mistaken as Thai. It's unsurprising. If you have some sort of Asian heritage, they will think you are Thai. It's not inherently bad, but this goes back again to a primitive way of viewing what nationality and ethnicity entail. It becomes frustrating at times when my interactions become rife with tension because I am expected to know the language or the culture, when I clearly don't. Or when people tell me I can't possibly be American because I look Thai. I think I've confused so many people when I tell them my family is Filipino but we live in the United States. What? People of all colors and shades live in America? Individuals live in America?

When do the lines between heritage and affiliation become blurry, broken, subverted? When does heritage become oppressive, to the point where personal affiliation is appropriated and denied?

Inevitably, these questions of identity politics always occur when one travels. They follow me around like a trail of perpetual question marks. The answers are never easy, so most of the time, people that I've talked to here just laugh try to laugh it off, and dismiss it as cultural differences. But cultures should clash--it's how dialogue, I think, comes into fruition. It's one of the more difficult things I have to deal with sometimes, but it's worth it when there are people that are willing to listen.

Bizarre Thailand Post #1

2010-01-19T05:14:00.000-08:00

Because I've been so unreligious in terms of updates, I will conduct them in a series of three. A trilogy of bizarre Thailand happenings of late.

Number 1. I communicate with water buffalos now.

After my a sleepless night due to a neighbor's water buffalo 12-hour birthing, (conveniently during my slumber hours), I believe that I've established a newfound, heightened sensitivity towards them. For numerous hours of self-contemplation, of debating whether or not I will hate on buffalos forever or accept the event as nature's call, I decided that bearing witness to an animal's labor means that you have now entered a special relationship with them. Ergo, the capability to be a water buffalo whisperer.

This video was taken by my roommate on our epic bike ride to another volunteer's school. Her name is Kate and she is currently teaching high schoolers at Wang Ka Se. Trish and I rode through some awesome rice fields, two villages with bemused elders watching us go, and some pretty formidable hills. I only say formidable because our bikes do not have gears....

To live by, for the New Year.

2010-01-05T05:27:00.000-08:00

"...most critically, never try to change the narrative structure of someone else's story, though you will certainly be tempted to, as you watch those poor souls in school, in life, heading unwittingly down dangerous tangents, fatal digressions from which they will unlikely be able to emerge. Resist the temptation. Spend energy on your story. Reworking it. Making it better. Increasing the scale, the depth of content, the universal themes. And I don't care what those themes are--they're yours to uncover and stand behind--so long as, at the very least, there is courage. Guts. Mut, in German. Those around you can have their novellas, their short stories of cliche and coincidence, occasionally spiced up with tricks of the quirky, the achingly mundane, the grotesque. A few will even cook up a Greek tragedy, those born into misery, destined to die in misery. But you, my bride of quietness, you will craft nothing less than epic with your life."

(special topics in calamity physics).

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-24T17:09:00.000-08:00

It's my first Christmas away from home! A little sad, but there's plenty of holiday cheer here as well.

To my friends and family back home, and to my friends all over the world right now, a very Merry Christmas to you all. I hope that you are safe, sound, and best of all, happy.

Much love from Thailand,

Valerie

A typical day, is atypical.

2009-12-21T06:38:00.000-08:00

I brought my camera to school last week just to take some quick snapshots of what it's like to be a teacher here. These were taken on a Friday, on random what I hoped were surreptitious occasions (turns out not really...) so they would at least look unceremonious and not contrived. Fail. I know I need to take more. But right now, I need something to occupy my time as I wait for "The Santa Clause" to load so I can show it to my students tomorrow, and I've exhausted my usual online pit stops (holla at yo' NPR). My students and I have been working on posting alphabet letters and expanding their weather vocabulary for the past weeks. I'm not sure what kind of success I will make, because it doesn't really help, that it's always sunny here in Thailand and I feel that, "It is sunny" will really be the only phrase they will be familiar with...

Here is a sample visual aid that we are slowly, but surely adding into the classroom. Note the white-outed "n" and the insertion of "U" on "cloudy." It so happens that at times, my kids will write the mirror images of the letters. It really is quite odd. We are working on accepting imperfections, which is very difficult mindset to depart from, so I told them repeatedly that there was no need to re-create the poster. The best part of this image, is the superimposed (in pink, I might add) "revisions" of such clouds. I am pretty impressed with their precocious transgressions of the literal. Good job students. You are such a nerd, Valerie. And yes, it is indeed a sheep.

This is probably the trouble kid in my classroom. I don't really know whether I was satisfying his perpetual need for attention when I took this picture, but. Too late.

My Thai-ny 1st graders ("good poets have a weakness for bad puns," in my defense.) They are literally half my size. I took this picture because they look so industrious, but this NEVER happens. Usually they're like comets flying around in a universe where gravity was invented by, I don't know, the cast of "The Hills"? We are currently working on numbers. There is a great article on the NYtimes on kids, brains and learning, by the way.

My super rambunctious 3rd and 4th graders. The only way to calm them down, is to practice numbers by making them do push-ups. Diabolical? Maybe. But it's good for kinesthetic learners...

Rowdy sixth graders. But by far, they are the most affectionate students ever. They keep wanting to shake my hands and they say "I love you teacher" all the time. :)

I am grateful that my job gives me enough variation every day that I don't get these existential crises of my life slipping away into the quotidian. I am grateful that what I do every day is affirming. Both of these get me through some murky waters.

heart of life is good

2009-12-16T02:17:00.000-08:00

Currently approaching week 6 of no running water. I bet my karma points are just oozing; I can't wait to see what the universe has in store for me. However, this period of brushing my teeth out of a water bottle may end as soon as this weekend. I am really, really happy at the prospect of water flowing out of my sink tap, but I'm slightly mourning the loss of my bragging points. But, what can you do? Swallow pride and accept life's gifts? check.

In other news, we recently got some tile flooring installed! Apparently, an organization, TLCB, the Thai Lao Cambodian Brotherhood, felt pity for the paupers me and my roommate, and approved a request (not by us) to have some tiles installed. It feels nice on my feet, for sure, and I suppose this eradicates the perpetually dirty and rugged aesthetic of our cement flooring. I tell you, my neurosis really comes out when I'm cleaning. I feel like that robot from Wall-E, the one that is programmed to clear contamination. But there's a calming effect found in sweeping to be sure. This won't be the case with our pink (I believe this is the national color) marbled looking floor. Again, I feel slightly guilty because for this luxury I feel like I'm living in the Taj Mahal as a volunteer.

Aside from these digressions, what I really wanted to write about was this moment when my roommate and I were in Pattaya. I will be honest: I hated the city. It was the sinful underbelly of thailand, where Eastern Europeans galore exploit the city and enjoy the "company" of thai women escorts. nevermind the fact that they are bald, pale/ burnt, with burgeoning bellies threatening to rip their teeny speedos apart. the impotent exploiting white male--nonetheless my favorite source of metaphor. To escape Thai's sin city, my roommate and I decided to spend some time in Koh Larn, an island just off of the mainland. We did not escape tourism, sadly, though we encountered some turquoise water and white sand. However, we did encounter the divine-- no kidding. We hiked up a small steep mountain to explore a pagoda that you can see from the shore. A little more exploring, and we met a taciturn monk who happened to live there. He showed us a path to a set of stairs that took you to the summit of the mountain, and consequently a humbling, panoramic view of the island. The stairs were torture. Steep, craggy, and the incline was very unforgiving. A brief glimpse over your shoulder will send you reeling with fear. It felt like you could really fall. The descent was far worse. The steps were probably all you cared about. The monk sensed our primal fear (I made no subtleties about it) and even offered his hand for help (!!!). The trick to these stairs, really, is to focus on one step at a time, to deny the constant impulse of looking at the view, at least, in order to keep moving. However, the gaze to the spectacular view was necessary, only every once in a while, for inspiration.

I won't be so crude as to make this experience explicit as a metaphor for something. But it was a good exercise, after all, under the auspicious supervision of this quiet monk. It got me thinking on a lot of things.

A list

2009-12-13T04:35:00.000-08:00

I realize that I must really write an account of my recent exploits, but instead I procrastinate and deliver instead, a list of books that I would love to read. Slash receive. Notice, conveniently, to the right, my mailing address. :)

The Anthologist

nicholson baker

Chronic City

jonathan lethem

A Gate at the Stairs

lorrie moore

Where You're At

Patrick Neate

Pops: life of louis armstrong

terry teachout

Some interesting week

2009-12-13T00:08:00.000-08:00

Despite some rocky circumstances this week, I've managed to eke out some laughter, thanks to my students. I was teaching my third graders some colors and every time I show a flashcard of a particular color, they have to point to an object of the same coloring. So it happens that I show the card yellow, and this girl lifts up her skirt and points to her yellow underwear.

Wait, what? What did just happen? My thoughts exactly. I hadn't been shocked in a while, but this one definitely did. I asked her discreetly to put her skirt down and not to do again, but in my head I wasn't sure whether to bury my face and burst out laughing in the class. I would have been slapped by lawsuit after lawsuit had this happened in the United States. Oh. my. god.

I showed Wall-E to my students this week as a reward for doing well on their letters. That was pretty precious too.

A Month's Evaluation

2009-11-28T23:55:00.000-08:00

Before I came to Thailand, people would ask if I had any goals in mind, some aspirations perhaps, to direct and shape my experience here. And for quite some time, I was stumped. True, I had these larger hopes to devote this experience sharing my knowledge, expanding the worlds of some 90 students, invoking a deeper interest in learning the language. And hopefully the work that I do here can have socio-economic implications too. Being able to access English can be huge here, especially for these kids whose families are mainly agrarian and whose hopes for better jobs are limited. However, these are somewhat abstract, and somewhat divorced from what I see everyday.

For goals that are more specific, I understood that it would take time. And now that I've had about two months here, after a hectic and packed orientation, some emotional, physical and psychological adjustment (which, I imagine would reach no discernible terminus), after about three weeks of teaching, I have some things in mind that I want to accomplish.

I realize, that given the design of my contract and the way that the Thai public education here is structured may not yield the most effective teaching and learning circumstances, I have a unique opportunity here to be creative, to be persistent, and to be patient. I have a unique opportunity to do something good every day. And while I have to continually adjust my expectations, I know, and understand now, that I can challenge these students every day.

More than anything, I feel that students here need structure. Right now, and for the next week, the schools in which I teach in, Na Bpong and Thai Samakee, are involved with their annual sports week. While I would normally endorse the investment on kids and sports, for the most part, the schools have no classes in preparation for this week-long competition. In fact, I am the only teacher holding classes as of right now, and when not in class, the students roam free around the campus, occasionally engaged in some form of fleeting organized activity. Thus, when I am teaching classes, I can tell that my kids are completely off of school-mode. They are frenzied. The only way that I can hold their attention and engagement is to have a pretty rigid lesson plan, where I go from topic to topic seamlessly, with a quick transition. Of course this does not always happen :)

Therefore, goal number one: is to provide students with structure, at least in my class. What I do in the classroom has to be intentional and deliberate and reeking with purpose. In my english class, random and chaos and neglect are big no no's . Of course, I expect the more than occasional anarchy from the students. But I want them to feel like someone is personally invested in what they do and what they learn.

In my daily lesson plans, there's a warm-up activity and a daily activity that kick-start the period. One of them is continually going over the ABC letters AND sounds. I have to review all the letters and sounds with everyone because they are continually mixed up, or they learn it by rote memorization and can only conjure the letters sequentially. But, really, they mean nothing to them. An A could very well be an R. And you have to realize, it's not their fault--most of the time, it's how they are taught. The "v" as I've mentioned before, does not really exist, or is really a "wee." It is, as I've mentioned to a friend, a phonetic equivalent of Mt. Everest or ... Mount Kilimanjaro. "l's" and "r's" are either mixed or blended. I understand that the "r" and "l" sounds will require some tongue muscle memory that will have need daily exercise, and I definitely understand that English is a difficult language to learn. So everyday is a milestone achieved. But this brings me to goal number two.

By the end of my service, I really hope to be able to have taught kids how to read, or to instill an intuition for reading. For students to be able to see a word, to be able to recognize and isolate the sounds, and eventually read the entire word and understand what it means will be a dream come true. It's a pretty empowering experience to encounter a set of symbols (signifiers, really) from a different culture and be able to read and access it. Furthermore, the ability to read and understand a word engages a form of critical thinking that Thai students are not used to--most of the time, teachers will teach how to read by spelling a word out loud (speeding through the letters) and then saying the word so the students can repeat it. The flaws of this method are immediate and overt. The only time that the students really need to know any word is from the second in which the teach pronounces the word to the second in which the student recalls the word. Also, saying the letters out loud aren't as effective as phonetically breaking a word to a syllable. So learning, most of the time, is complacent and passive. And then they get real bored--and while boredom can sometimes inspire a learner to find something challenging, here, they just don't have the kind of resources available that US students have privileged access to. It's saddening sometimes, to see students fighting over crayons or rulers or pencils because they just don't have them. I've brought in my own supplies, "stolen" some of the school's hidden pastel crayons, and used part of my stipend to buy things for them to remedy these daily reminders of inequality.

It's hard to imagine what kind of lasting and significant work I'll be doing. In terms of teaching the language, if i accomplish these two aforementioned goals, I will be more than ecstatic. But still, one can hope that my daily efforts are also small contributions to things that have larger implications to these kids. For some cases, and I know I have to accept this--probably not. But also, I will never really know the full extent of my work here. All I can do is try, and to try really hard-one day at a time, one letter at a time.

I will be frank, there are some frustrating things here: finding alcohol in the supplies cabinet, witnessing and hearing of corporal punishment, seeing Thai teachers get massages from their students, getting their hairs searched meticulously for grays or lice, a very unpredictable schedule, and so on. Dwelling on these negative things, however, can only prove to be obstructive. I have to believe every day, and to remind myself every day that these challenges are just incentives to try harder, and being a novice at this whole thing--I hope this optimism can last! I'm sure it will. Every day, the work pays off--sure, the gratifications are small, but they resonate deep. :)

Until the next long entry.

My Digs

2009-11-17T02:31:00.000-08:00

Here is my roommate. Her name is Patricia. She is from Spain. I joke that our last names have been tied together by the history of Spain's bloody colonization, plundering, cultural raping of the Philippines for 400 years. I think she finds it funny?

Here's a first look of my room. I know--messy. And I didn't bother making my "bed" before taking this picture. However-story of my life, correct? I actually really like sleeping under my net, because for the most part, it's my fortress against all the terrors of the night (bugs, beetles, beasts). If anything, it keeps the gecko poo from getting on my bed. I like my gecko--he eats insects, but is completely devoid of toilet manners, or has no control of his bowel movement. So the net is much appreciated. I hear it also keeps mosquitoes away.

My first month in Thailand could be described in a lot of ways. One of them could be, "The Epic Search for Real Coffee." People here strongly favor instant coffee. Which is okay-- but not an entirely adequate substitute. Really, they come in packets. It's 50% sugar (not kidding), then coffee creamer, then coffee. All 5% of it. You can imagine my dismay. My bleary eyes every morning. My looming caffeine headache, only abated by the infinitesimal amount of coffee in instant packets. I don't want to go any further, but I think I almost pissed my pants when I realized that this press was just right under my nose in the Indochine market. The only other problem was finding the actual beans--they do exist, in a small, easy to miss section of the superstore. Most of them are made with robusta beans. My arabica bean coffee in Thailand is a sure luxury. And since I don't have many, I have no qualms splurging for a daily necessity. I think I'm actually nicer to people now... Either way, here is my tiny savior in the morning, on my makeshift dining table/stove top table....

This is the view from my balcony. Yes--another unexpected luxury. But really, it's not very wide. We live right off of a main highway, with a slight detour into a dirt road, nestled within a nook of other houses. The house that you can see is our neighbor's, whose kind and generous heart has supplied my roommate and I with bath water since either the ground water has run out (and needs replenishing from the rain... but... the rainy season is over...) or the machine that pumps it is broken. Either way, each day that I survive without running water the universe is compensating me with good karma ... somewhere.

This is my kitchen sink, located in the back of the house. I didn't even have this during my first week at all, and we had to "wash dishes in the jungle" as they call it here. Really it's just a lot of trees and wild grass. At any rate, our dishes are now cleaned with water that is in that huge cement jug every single day. Yup. I no running water = badass = good karma. Also, please note that there is no plumbing system. our soap water is, merely diverted by the pvc tubes to the other side of the house. Somehow, I think this is a really bad idea, but what can we do, right?

This is my room. It has wooden floors, white walls (again I need some art here) and a high ceiling. You can see that I've put up a wall of pictures of family and friends. I look at it every day and think of you all back home, and miss you dearly. It's also helping me survive here thus far, so thank you.

Here is my "bathroom." It's more like a closet, with a squatty potty right in the middle, a tub of water for flushing down the toilet, a bucket for showering. That shower head bends to the laws of physics, ergo, it does not work... The spigot, which is what Thais use instead of toilet paper, has better water pressure. When we had running water I used it to wash my hair.... Also, did I mention our door does not lock? My roommate and I have established a ground rule: if the door is closed, wander no further.

Here lies my kitchen sink for the first week of moving into my house.

My home! It's painted light green and it makes me really happy! It's not very big, but spacious enough for two people and I like it.

This is what the bottom area looks like. Yup. quite bare. Please send me some art over here, the inside is impoverished of color, except of course from our plastic chairs. Those two tables are really all we have--and we park our bikes inside the house. The living room doesn't get much "living" really, and I hope to amend this dilemma soon. But, check out those cement floors, yes! It's permadusty from outside. I'm okay with that--it means you can't see the dead bugs on the floor as easily, and here in Thailand bugs come a plenty...

I need to dedicate an entire entry to my school experience so far. My student collage includes all of my students, and I took pictures of them to remember their names. Needless to say, I'm having a lot of fun and I am just so busy all the time. So far so good-- and next week I'll be going to Surin for an elephant festival. Cross fingers I get to ride one...

We like to have fun. Sometimes.

2009-11-12T03:03:00.000-08:00

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OH YES I DID.

2009-10-28T07:18:00.000-07:00

mmhmm. I fed a baby elephant today. jealous?

On Luck and Luxuries

2009-10-18T06:30:00.000-07:00

It's quite strange being a volunteer here and being treated like somewhat of a celebrity. We've been introduced in a local radio show. We met the governors and directors and the movers and shakers in town. We've been on tv. Apparently three times? It's really quite embarrassing though. Apparently, the letter "v" in thailand is near obsolete, and r's and l's blend. I try to enunciate my name and say it really slowly, but the tv host (who has a spray of white hairs sprouting out of the mole in his neck) just butchered it like crazy:

"My name is Val-er-ie."

"DHALERAA?"

"Valerie."

"RAROLEE?"

I gave up. However, I should consider myself lucky because it wasn't nearly as bad as this one other volunteer. We have thai nicknames (mine is Mapao. It's "coconut" in Thai) and this volunteer's nickname is "Tukata" which translates to dollface. However, she was still struggling a little bit at the time on the correct pronunciation, so when she introduced herself, the Thais got really confused as to why she would christen herself with the name, "The Insect." I helped out with the correction. But, I'm on the periphery of the video, clearly about to pee my pants from laughing for a good minute. I should have displayed more decorum. But oh well.

Today, I had my first Thai massage. Mostly because I thought I was going to get to nap for an hour and a half in an airconditioned room. FALSE. No airconditioning. And the massage was not for the faint of heart--this little old Thai woman packed a punch in her forearms and her teeny fingers. At some points I didn't know whether to laugh or howl out loud in pain. However, i think it was ten dollars well spent.

What else? LAst night, we got to tour the night market in the city, armed with 50 bhat, which is basically $1.60. It's basically a closed off street where you can get food of all sorts, from the extremely palatable to the slightly questionable. But. OMFG. I thought I had died and gone to heavennn. I got two empanadas with palm sugar inside, barbecued pork, rice, some vegetable entree, and a coconut pie. All for a dollar sixty. I think I might just gorge myself with tasty pastries here for the next 11 months, thank you.

My highlights of the week:
Visiting a silk factory and this one spot where they produce Thai musical instruments.
Winning a Laotian silver bracelet that's supposed to bring me luck.
Visiting a Buddhist Temple and getting to pray with incense and lotus flowers.
Going on my first run with a buddy.
Laughing every single day.

Overall I think orientation is going well. We're learning a lot every day and I'm getting to know the other volunteers quite well, especially since 8 of us girls are crammed into one room. After my initial scare, I think I'll be okay for now. Thank you for your emails. I prayed about how I'm thankful for my friends and family.

Temples and Trees

2009-10-18T02:46:00.001-07:00

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Pictures!

2009-10-13T07:47:00.000-07:00

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Week One.

2009-10-11T06:18:00.001-07:00

I've been trying to figure out a way to initiate my first emails of many. How do you begin to describe a new phase in your life? I wish I could say that I'm armed with feelings of affirmation and adventure. But I think the heat and the humidity just make my brain hazy and initially my perspectives of coming here dissolve. When I stepped into Thailand, and saw Nakhon Phanom for the first time, I couldn't figure out what I was feeling all at one. An uncategorical composite of fear, apprehension, misgiving, shock, homesickness. I wish I could say that I'm glowing underneath the rays of the Thai sun. Instead, I'm perpetually sweaty, sticky, greasy, and perhaps now a walking paradise for flying invertebrates.

I knew that I didn't have much expectations coming here; however I stand corrected because I must have been expecting something else, perhaps? I have to be honest, I did freak out once I saw my living quarters with a roommate. Right now, it's a shell of a house. A concrete floor. Something that resembles a bathroom with a squatter toilet. Unfurnished. Dirty. I am reminded every day that this is a very poor province, and that what I have right now (and have had) are luxuries most of these people have never even dreamed of. And at that point, it makes me ashamed that I'm feeling all these emotions of misgiving and doubt.

I met the students and teachers of both the elementary schools these past few days. On the first day of touring the village schools, we emerge out of a van hot and cranky for being crammed with nine other people. However, seeing all these school children really, really pulled my heartstrings. I think for that moment my anxieties dissipated. I think it will be really nice to have living reminders every day of why I had wanted to be a part of this project. I had wanted it to be a selfless year. I guess I just didn't expect the adjustment period to have turned out as it has been so far.

Now, the funny parts. Taking a shower without warm water in the morning is like being a feral cat coerced into bathing for the first time. Mostly, funny moments are centered around bugs. Like a cricket prying its way into my ear at night. A cicada landing on my friend's face while sleeping who then lets out a blood curdling scream. I only say this because it's funny in retrospect. While it's difficult finding the humor in my own traumatic encounters with strange bugs, I have no problem laughing at the misfortunes of others. But then again, I pay all the karmic debt I incur by getting dyspepia from all the spicy food we've been eating.

They call this place a Land of Smiles for a reason. People are very friendly, and so is the landscape. It's all lush, verdant, and green. Which makes up for the fact that I could probably fry an egg or two on my face. Or, so hot, that I discovered that your butt actually sweats. Who knew.

Right now, I'm still grasping the idea that I have a crazy new job. But I'm very grateful that I was able to come here, and that I've rapidly made a family out of the other volunteers here with me. And that I've been privileged enough in life to have come here to teach.

Next post, I promise to give more details about my living accommodations. Let's just say I will be very close with the other volunteers by the time orientation is over :)

okay. I'm here and I'm alive.

2009-10-10T08:15:00.001-07:00

post coming recapitulating my first week. coming very soon.

2009-09-18T22:02:00.000-07:00

Hello, and welcome!

I am writing to ask for your support with a project I’ve become involved with and is very important to me. As of October 2009, I will be traveling to Thailand to teach in schools which do not have enough teachers.

The reasons for this pursuit are as follows:

1. I am looking for an endeavor after college that is simultaneously rigorous, challenging, consequential, and enlightening.

2. I am looking for a learning experience that extends beyond the realms of academia and is congruent with one of my strongest beliefs—that education offers empowerment and opportunity--in the forms of social mobility, a chance for better education, and hopefully a chance for a better future. Raised in the Philippines, I learned English as a second language which has given me the aforementioned opportunities. I hope to play a role in affording the same possibilities for Thai school children and I believe WorldTeach is the program that embodies what I am looking for and will allow me to pursue a project that has social consequence.

You are most likely familiar with the political and economic crises that currently grip Thailand. The country has faced a violent insurgency, a catastrophic tsunami in December, a military coup, mass demonstrations, and a stagnating economy just within the past two years. Unfortunately these larger, national turmoil obscures other dilemmas such as an educational system beset with its own problems of inequality, inadequate resources, and a lack of qualified teachers.

I am assigned to teach in the Nakhon Phanom province in the Isan area of Thailand, which is known to be the poorest, least developed area of the country. The standard of education is comparatively very low, and government funding for rural village schools is at bare minimum. It is the objective of WorldTeach to help the rural and city schools of this province to reach a higher standard in order to give the students of these schools a chance for a better future.

During my year-long stay in Thailand, I will receive a small living allowance from my school, enough to cover my expenses while I serve as a teacher for the year. However, the cost of my placement, training, air travel, insurance, and field support amounts to $5000.Trying to raise this much money single-handedly is very daunting, especially given the sordid state of our economy. Therefore, a donation from you will help make it possible for me to contribute what I have to offer to the elementary students in Thailand.

Please note that this donating through Paypal is very secure!

Thank you for your time and consideration and for helping make this experience possible for me.

2009-08-13T21:59:00.001-07:00

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