An Atypical Day, Part 2.

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.

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

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

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

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....