A continuation of study!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

1. Lizards as roommates

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

2. Activating

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

3. Drinking beer with ice

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

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

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

5. You’re on Thai Time now

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

6. Go spicy or go home

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

7. The spigot

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

8. Six people on a motorcycle

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

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

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

10. When in doubt: "Mai pen rai"

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

A runner-up: khao niaw

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

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

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

At times, right before I drift to sleep,

I am awoken, slumber interrupted,

As my house becomes the center of discordant noises.

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

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

I hear the neighbor’s failures in karaoke,

I hear our resident gecko,

sounding out his mating call,

I hear packs of dogs in heat,

howling through the night,

I hear frogs lurking in the water,

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

I hear rough engines of motorcycles,

I hear domestic disputes gone awry,

I hear crickets, cicadas,

And!

To give further drama to the night’s opera,

a neighbor’s waterbuffalo, announces the aria!

It begins its excruciating twelve hour labor,

to end only when the village speaker,

bellows the morning announcements.

I hear Thailand before I sleep:

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

For as I write a catalogue of Her noisy offenses,

and of my sanity, chipping and corroded,

I’ve realized like a sudden jolt from thunder,

how Thailand has unwittingly

kept me from slipping,

into the droning slumber,

of a conventional life.