Here's to the crazy ones

Well, happy election day!  This dog 'n pony show is finally packing up.  I voted for my candidate of choice and will now resolve the rest of my evening to watching the talking heads with their magic maps tell me how the rest of the country voted.  It will take a lot of heavy drinking to get through this, but I am up to the challenge.  

I think there are more than enough political blogs floating around, so I'll keep those sorts of opinions to myself.  But I will say that this is an exciting time and regardless of outcome, I can't wait to see the papers tomorrow.  No matter who wins, tomorrow we will have a new leader and that newness is exhilarating.  After all my travels and misadventures abroad, I can honestly say that I am so happy to call America home (no matter our shortcomings or flaws) and in my blissfully idyllic mind, I look forward to the possibilities of the next four years.  I also look forward to about August of 2009, when -no matter who wins or who we all voted for today- we can go back to bitching and moaning about whatever jackass we put in the White House.    

Seriously though, I also hope that this election marks the end of apathy.  Somewhere along the way, we'd lost our gusto for political involvement.  I feel that maybe a bit of it has been rediscovered over this long, treacherous, frustrating, magnificent flying circus of a campaign.  Most of all, I really hope my generation remains committed to learning about what's happening in our world, here and abroad.      

Of course, I hope my pony wins (that's the point of voting, right?) but at the same time, it isn't the end all be all.  Politicians have a tough job, but I also don't think they're who brings real change to us.  Yes, they are visible and have clout, yes they pass policy.  But without sounding like a Hallmark-after-school-special, it's real people that make real change.  Ordinary people dedicated to extraordinary dreams...which are usually just regular people doing small things.  

So I don't really know what I'm trying to say, or why I'm even saying it.  But these are the people that will change the world:

People like Paul Potts, who sold mobile phones but has an incredible talent for opera and shared it with the world.  Here is a man who speaks humanity: that shyness and uncertainty covering the bittiest seed of hope that he is something greater.  

Or Marla Ruzicka, a spunky California blonde who graduated college and became a humanitarian working in the Middle East.  At the age of 29, when a suicide bomber ended her life in Baghdad, her last words were, "I am alive."

And Matt Harding.  Traveling to 42 different countries in 14 months, he reminds me of how it should be.  That no matter who you are or where, it's always funny to see a white guy dancing...badly.  He reminds me that we're not so very different.  

So those are the crazy ones.  Little people who contribute.  Who do something.  And people probably question them, say they're out of their minds...and maybe they are.  Would that be such a bad thing?  I mean, only an insane person could take a piece of steel in their hand and envision the Golden Gate Bridge.  Picasso must have been completely mad to look at a blank canvas and see Guernica.  The folks that can sit in silence and hear a symphony.  Or Michaelangelo, who didn't see a piece of marble, but saw David inside somewhere...and toiled and worked and chipped away until he showed him to the rest of us. 

These are the people that change the world.  They are who inspire.

   

Movie Day

Well, one semester of teaching is completed.  And I really should fire myself from blogging, because clearly I've been asleep on the job.  I must say I always fancied myself Doris Day as Schoolteacher, yet I never seemed to find the right combination of pumps and pencil skirts.  But I digress....

With one whole semester of teaching under my belt, I thought I oughta share a couple of newfound secrets to success in the classroom.  Really, there are only a couple...

1.)  The quickest way to becoming the "coolest" teacher in school?  Follow my simple formula:  bring to class two lengthy worksheets.  Tell the students that if the class completes both worksheets, you will end class with a super fun game.  Finish the first lengthy worksheet...then suspiciously look at watch for several seconds.  Finally, announce to the class that since they've been soooo good and all that, gosh darn it, you're just gonna skip the second worksheet until later!  Little will they know that the second worksheet is actually the first, only in a different pile, and that you never had any intention of a second assignment to begin with.  You will be lauded with raucous applause, cheering and general good-spiritedness.   

2.)  Try not to be horrified when, after asking the students, "what is your address?" They say, "powpow1000@msn.com"  Or worse yet, they respond with "e-mail or house?"  And then proceed to blink at you for no less than 89 seconds, while trying desperately to remember their house address.

3.)  Along that same line, when asking, "what is your phone number?"  children will always, always respond, "mobile? or house?"  Yes, they are 12.  Yes, I was still toilet papering houses at 12 while these youngsters are creating MySpace accounts.  It's just a sign of the times.  *sigh*

4.)  Kids are smart.  So smart in fact, that it does not take them long to realize there exists a direct and positive relationship between their grade and the number of times they tell Aj. Bobbi she is beautiful or pretty.  At the bottom of worksheets, it is not uncommon to read "p.s. teacher Bobbi soooo beautiful!!!!!!!"  CHECK-PLUS.

5.)  Strangely, the same children who cannot change a simple, present tense verb into the simple past tense (although they've been 'learning' the concept since the second grade) will be the same ones to inevitably point out that, "oooohhh, teacher Bobbi; you wore that same shirt on Monday!"  Huh.  Selective observation?  

6.)  Finally, the trade secret: how do you know Teacher is hung-over?  "Ok kids, MOOOOVIE DAY!"  They'll never catch on. Never.

xoxo

Just a lil' off the top?

I know, I know...I should really be writing about the political shit-storm over here.  Maybe tomorrow.  For now, I just had to report on my latest adventure in Bangkok:

Haircuts.

Anyone who knows me, knows that my hair is one of my "things."  Kind of like my obsession with having very white teeth and just the right number of bangle bracelets on my arm.  I love experimenting with hair, because I figure if I ever hate a style, it will grow out eventually.  It's temporary, fleeting, impulsive.  

In that spirit, I cut off about 10 inches of hair last spring.  Then, shortly before moving to Thailand, I decided to go with a pixie cut (think Mia Farrow, but without the creepiness of Rosemary's Baby.) and loved my sassy look!  

Fast forward half a year, add an extremely hot climate and my hair has grown furiously.  When my hair began to lose all shape and started to increasingly resemble my childhood neighbor's spaniel, Muffin, I decided to call in the troops.  

Note: one must always exercise extreme caution when a man with scissors -who does not speak your language- gets near your locks.  I speak no Thai (and he speaks no english) so I brought in pictures and made it very clear (by clever employment of my incredible pantomiming skills) to just: "cut a little from the bottom but leave the sides long."  FYI: I am envisioning my next great style for Travis to give me when I get home, and it requires calculated growth patterns on my part...much like rotation cropping.  

Well, this is the result:

Right. Not quite what I was going for.  In fact, with the exception of the front, I have lost all strategic-hair-growth over the past 5 months...resulting in the quashing of my dream to attain flawless Victoria Beckham hair.  

On the bright side, I can confidently pursue my life-long dream of becoming a Korean boy-band member.  Think I'll fit right in....

xoxo

Bo & Mo Do Kanchanaburi (OR: Barbie Doll Goes West)

First: apologies that this post is so overdue...Blogger has not been functioning the past couple of days.  

Now then, onto the fun stuff:

Due to fantastically over-the-top political unrest, school was closed beginning Tuesday.  For many reasons, by the time Friday rolled around, I was in desperate need of a city-escape.  So my sweet friend Morgan and I decided to take a 3-day weekend to the western province of Kanchanaburi.  And so the adventure begins...

Our trip was off to a good start...we easily found the Southern bus terminal in Bangkok (though cab fare was quite expensive) and were pleasantly surprised to find efficiency and organization!  After a mere 10 minutes of waiting (in a/c!!) we turned over our 112 baht tickets (approx. $4) and began the two hour bus ride to Kanchanaburi.  

Upon arrival, we big-time bartered for a bicycle taxi...what you cannot see in the photo above is that we are squuueeeezed into a "2-seat" buggy with a rather large Thai woman struggling to pedal our load.  We kind of felt badly at the end that we had bargained for such a rock-bottom price...especially considering this woman could have suffered cardiac arrest at any moment. 

Anyway, we spent our first night at The Jolly Frog hostel (highly recommend), enjoying yummy dinner and a couple beers overlooking the River Kwai. Kanchanaburi is famous for its fresh water fish, so we ate it for every meal. Here's the view:

I have found many people in Asia have a difficult time with "Phyllis" so I commonly go by my nickname of "Bobbi."  Well, the staff at the hostel mistook this for "Barbie" and so always greeted me with, "Good morning, Barbie!  Barbie Doll!"  I guess you could say, it kind of stuck.  

Day 2:  For our Saturday, we forked over a load of cash to the tune of 1,000 baht ($30) for an all-day tour.  Money well spent!  We left Jolly Frog at 8:00 am with about 8 other folks.  Our first stop was at the most visited national park in Thailand, Erawan.  The park is famous for it's 7-tiered waterfall, that resembles the three-headed elephant god of Hinduism by the same name.  We were given a couple hours to freely explore.  Mo and I got straight down to business and started hiking the densely forested mountainside.  We took photos of each waterfall tier, but were determined to make it to the top (most folks stop at about 5).  Toward the summit, it became a precarious trek, indeed!  After tier 5, the man-made path disappears and we had to crawl over giant roots, cross streams and scramble the side of boulders.  We began leaving a trail as we shed backpacks, cameras, shoes, and eventually, clothing.  Finally, we made it to tier 7...there was only one other person there.  Seems most folks were discouraged by the challenge.  

As I said before, we had to abandon our belongings, so I don't have photos of the waterfall and lagoon.  In many cultures, there remains a belief that photographs can steal a subjects soul.  For once, I agree.  A photo of the 7th waterfall and lagoon would have simply killed it.  It is one of those things that, had I looked back on a photograph, it would be disappointing...it couldn't possibly do justice the feeling of swimming in the crisp water, having giant fish nibble my toes.  Looking up, seeing nothing but big sky and sheer cliffs.  And I cannot even begin to describe the color of the water...in the waterfalls and beaches of Thailand, clear, brilliant, aquamarine is the norm.  But this lagoon was almost a powder blue...I've never seen water this color.  It was amazing and almost sickly sweet.

After a refreshing lunch, we rode elephants for maybe an hour.  Then, it was off for bamboo rafting on the River Kwai.  We didn't swim in the river, which apparently was wise: it is high-season for leaches right now.  So a bit of floating down the river and we were transported to a temple cave and then a train-ride on the Death Railway.  We arrived back at Jolly Frog around 6:00 pm, utterly exhausted.  I had forgotten how satisfying little things are when you are physically spent.  The cold shower was nothing short of amazing...the beer tasted as good as if I had made it myself.  There is just something about having sun-kissed skin and sore-aching muscles from tough physical demands that make resting that much more enjoyable.  Unlike mental exhaustion of work you don't enjoy, which makes everything seem like a chore...physical expenditure allows you to take pleasure in the simple act of being alive. 

Day 3:  Sunday morning, we awoke bright and early, enjoyed breakfast with real coffee and set out to rent some bicycles.  We leisurely cycled around town for a bit, but our ultimate aim was to ride over to Wat Tham Mangkorn Thong.  With the Lonely Planet map as our guide, Mo and I decided we could definitely pedal there from Jolly Frog.  Here's a rough guide to our logic:

Morgan: hey, wanna rent bikes and cycle to the Wat tomorrow?

Me: yeah, totally.  A nice Sunday ride sounds awesome!  How far is it?

Morgan: *rustling with map* well, let's see...the scale says 0.3" is 1 km.  

Me:  hmmm...where's the Wat?

Morgan:  oh yeah, it just goes off the page a bit, I think just an inch.

Me:  sweet!  So, let's measure...I heard once that the length of your knuckle is about an inch.  Ok, about 8 knuckles on the page, and then maybe the Temple is one knuckle off the page...so 9 km?  What's the conversion?

Morgan:  That's gotta be only 4 or 5 miles.  Max.  

Me:  Dude, we could definitely conquer that in 30, 40 minutes, TOPS.  

...and off we rode into the horizon.  After about 20 minutes, things are not looking quite right, where we pull into a gas station and ask for directions.  The attendant is nothing short of horrified that two foreigners are trying to bicycle to the Temple.  As evidenced above, our math was a bit off.  Turns out, the Temple is a few inches off the map...and we forgot to multiple by 3.  Sooo, our destination was more like 30 kilometers out.  We decided to give ourselves an A+ for effort and promptly returned the rented bicycles and stopped for Italian Sodas before hiring a taxi to take us to the Wat.

After climbing no less than a kazillion stairs up the foothill, we found ourselves at the mouth of another cave temple in the limestone.  There were times when the passageways got so small, we were literally crawling on all fours to make it through...and the bats.  So very, very creepy.  Anyhow, we climbed up a steep ladder that opened up onto the hill.  We wandered down, admiring Spirit Trees and shrines all along the way.    

Eventually, we returned to our cabby...where we left him to idly clip his finger nails.  We finished off our excursion with perhaps the best fish & chips I have ever had the good fortune of eating and then Jolly Frog bid farewell to Barbie Doll, as we went back to the city.  

Till next time!

p.s. I tried to post more photos, but my worthless Internet connection means this is all you get for now  =(

An unwelcome house guest

Did you know a cockroach can hold its breath for 40 minutes? Fascinating...and at the same time, deeply disturbing.  Oh yeah, and they can run up to three miles in one day.  Move over Michael Phelps, cockroach got ya beat! New poster child for Gatorade?  Wheaties? I think so...

Anyhow, in lieu of exciting posts (nothing eventful is happening in my neck of the woods) I decided to share an e-mail from myself to my little sister, Clare.  The following documents a true event...in fact, a traumatizing event in the charming life of Yours Truly.  The events described took place on the night of Thursday, August 16, 2008.  No names have been changed to protect identity.  The following language and mental images may be offensive. 

   

"Clare,

Your CL training sounds like a drag...but I just had to let you know I just got into my room...

I turned on the lights and what scurries to the middle of the floor but a HUGE, effing HUGE cockroach!!

Now, I have some strange Thai bugs co-habitating with me, but never, ever roaches!  

So then I think, "SHIT.  Damn it all, I don't have any Raid.  No death spray!  Annnnd, I can't call Clare shrieking. SHIT."

So then I stand all still-like, so as not to alarm the roach, because we're clearly having a stand-off.  He knows someone's home and that someone is probably bigger than him...sadly, I am the one scared stiff. 

Anyhoosen, so we're staring each other down and I turn and open the door...I was gonna sweep him out, but I have no broom, so I thought I'd just leave and let the bitch take a hint and get the hell outta my space.  But then I thought, "NO! I will not be shamed into my hallway by a 2.31" worthless insect who will probably just crawl into my mattress anyway."

Then my mind starts racing for solutions...because I'm thinking the longer I stand there wonderin' what to do, the longer that bitch-roach is sitting there thinkin' how to get out, stat.  Plus, I thought he might remember that he has wings, and fly into my face...which --obviously-- would be terrifying. 

Finally, I decide to drown the cockroach.  All stealth-like, I hurdle across my bed to the table where I have two bottles of water (never breaking eye-contact with the Invader, mind you).  From a safe distance of approximately three feet, I began tossing water on the Invader.  Apparently, roaches are water-safe.  I had no idea!  Why doesn't anyone tell me this shit?  I mean, these bastards don't drown?  I do this to spiders ALL THE TIME and it always works...why don't we learn this in college??  It should have been taught alongside Greek Mythology and Underwater Basket Weaving! Ugh!

Then, the roach is wet and thoroughly pissed off, so he starts running...and I'm chasing him with water.  Then I realize, it ain't workin and I'm slip-sliding all over my tile floors in my flip-flops.  So I grab my sneaker.  But I seriously might puke from the thought of crunching this thing...so luckily, there was on old, dirty towel covered in black eyeshadow near...I grabbed said towel and like a bandit in the night, I threw it over the roach...AHA!!  

I then proceeded to take BOTH sneakers and smash wildly at the towel.  I've been staring at the corner of my room with the towel and sneakers and I've seen no signs of life in the past 23 minutes.  I think he's dead.  But he also might just be outsmarting me...waiting till I turn out the lights for bed and then crawling into my hair.  I can't be sure.  So, just to be on the safe side, I am working up the courage to pick up the whole pile and throw it over my balcony, into the parking lot below...well, minus my sneakers of course.  I like those. 

...just had to share that with you because Monica has no internet access and Jeanne is well, ya know how she is with roaches. 

xoxo"

Post Script, Aug. 21:  the towel with sneakers on top still sits in my corner...untouched.  A shameful admission to both my lack of cockroach-courage and gym-visits.  

The weather is here, wish you were beautiful!

I realize now is as good a time as any to un-neglect my wee blog.  Mostly, life here has been work, work, work during the week and playing on the weekend.  A few weeks ago, I began after-school tutoring the daughter of a diplomat.  They buy me yummy snacks and the extra $$ in my pocket doesn't hurt either.

Unfortunately for my massive following (ie: mom & dad) I don't have a whole lot of interesting things to report.  However, this past weekend was an epic [and rare] holiday.  A four day weekend!  Sound the bells, choirs of angels!  96 glorious hours free of pestilent 6th graders, grading and chalkboards.  Here is how the adventure begins...

Wednesday marked the beginning of Khao Phansa, the equivalent of Buddhist Lent.  This is a 3-month period in which the monks retreat to the temples, coinciding with the beginning of rainy season.  This tradition began long ago to prevent monks from trampling rice paddies as they collected offerings from villagers and is a time of spiritual renewal for all Buddhist people.  It also means we had Thursday and Friday off from school.

Due to the national holiday, plane tickets (even domestic) were outrageously expensive.  So, a few girlfriends and I opted to take an overnight bus and ferry south to the island of Koh Samui.  Now, I love Thailand and her people just as much as the next underpaid foreign teacher; but for the love of kidney beans, this place is so fantastically inefficient / unpunctual / disorganized! 

Mei pen rei is a common phrase in Thailand meaning, "no worries."  That's what they tell you, anyway.  What it really means is, "Wow. We really f****d up, but nah, we're not gonna do anything about it. Sorry."  We hauled ourselves over to the bus station straight from work, only to wait in the rain for the bus, which decided at some point that leaving at 8 pm would be just as good as 7 pm.

  

My four friends and I were stuck in the back row of the bus...the kind with seats that do not recline and are narrower than the rest.  Lovely.  Over the course of the 10-hour bus ride we made a couple of pit-stops.  One was simply so the driver could smoke a pack of cigarettes.  I'm not sure the purpose of the second stop, although my guess would be an illicit drug deal.  Just a guess.  Finally, around 5 am, we arrive at some horrid patch of grass and trees, off the main road.  I thought that if they were going to either a) chop us into pieces for pickling or b) kidnap us, they would have done it straight away.  But when we went off the road, I thought perhaps these were true sadists and they wanted all the foreigners to suffer 10 hours of hell before the chop-fest.  

Clearly, we were neither chopped or kidnapped.  However, we were told to wait "one hour" for the next bus to pick us up and drop us at the pier.  It was about at this time that I put two and two together and realized that everyone wants a piece of the farang pie.  In other words, we were dropped-off, picked-up and otherwise needlessly transported so that everyone had a fair chance to make money.   

Naturally, one hour turned to two...to two and a half...to three.  Finally, we were loaded onto a bus which was one loose bolt short of the junkyard.  We waited on the bus some more, just for good measure.  Then drove approximately 400 feet and stopped.  The driver disappeared but eventually returned.  At the pier, we waited some more, but finally made it to Koh Samui (Koh means "island" in Thai).  I booked us a beach bungalow on Tongtakien Bay...a beautiful cove with clear, aqua waters...it really looked like Jurassic Park was filmed there, with the green hills and giant boulders.  

We had a wonderful couple of days.  Our cove was small and very private, so we weren't bothered by drunk college boys.  It was the ideal holiday: everyday, I would rise early, read on the beach, swim for hours in the sea, nap on the beach and then out with friends at night.  I also made sure to eat a banana split after every meal.  This is not an exaggeration: I would get scrambled eggs for breakfast, followed one hour later by heavenly ice cream and continue that eating pattern* all day, every day for the entire weekend.  

We did indulge in a couple of tourist-y things, including a Muay Thai (Thai Boxing) match.  We sat ringside for seven fights and it was awesome!  It really is an especially brutally form of boxing, employing the use of elbows, knees and feet. Ouch.

The neighboring island of Koh Pha Naeng is known for it's Full Moon Parties.  These happen every full moon, but it was especially important last weekend because of the holiday.  On Saturday night, we took the ferry over and wow!  Full Moon Party is Thailand's answer to Mardi Gras!  It was Biblical in the sense that I half expected swarms of locusts to descend upon us from above, or for boils to sprout on everyone's skin...parties like that are what bring on The Plagues...10,000 people where Bourbon Street meets the beach.  It was one of my favorite nights in Thailand, thus far.  We went in on a massive bucket.  Now, a Thai bucket is literally a bucket, which is filled with Coca-Cola, soda water, Red Bull and either vodka or Thai whisky.  We found a great steal in a 1.5 gallon bucket...not kidding.  I took charge of the bucket (which happened to be the size of my torso) and was instantly the most popular girl there! No telling how many strangers asked to pose with me and the giant bucket of vodka mess.  The night wore on and soon involved body paint and purchasing plaid fedoras (don't ask) and dancing in the rain with thousands of Euro trash!  

In short (too late), my holiday was a success...even after another 18 hours of travel back home.  We left on Sunday morning and did not arrive until 5 am Monday (I had to be at work at 7 am)...in fact, I'm pretty sure I got -3 hours of sleep.

But hey, mei pen rei!

* Even though I was not exercising, this banana split pattern was completely excused.  Behold, the Calorie Bank:  obviously, calories consumed count as 'Deposit' in the Bank.  However, anytime you are given the opportunity to consume a high-calorie food and abstain, you simply 'Withdraw' those calories from the Bank.  Por ejemplo:

Saturday--

Deposit:

+ 2 banana splits

+ 2 scrambled eggs

+ 1 watermelon smoothie

+ 1 fish burger 

+ .3 gallons of Thai Bucket 

Intake = 24 billion calories

Withdraw:

- 1 banana split (could have ordered after dinner, but did not)

- 1 order of french fries (ditto)

Bank Balance = 1,700 calories (ideal!)

...just goes to show what the human brain can concoct after 10 hours on a Thai bus.

Finally, a little excitement!

I spent my weekend on the beach of Pattaya...a pleasant, uneventful mini-holiday including lots of sand, sun, surf, eating and drinking!  Basically, your typical weekend beach get-away.

On a more exciting note, here is what's happening in my part of the world:

On Friday, Chitralada Palace Grounds (my place of work and residence of the Royal Family) were shut down along with the Grand Palace Grounds.  The People's Alliance for Democracy managed to break through a police force 10,000 strong to seize the Government House.

A little background:  There are two parties: PAD and People's Power Party.  PPP are currently ruling government.  The PAD have been protesting since December, with things coming to a head in the past month.  Two years ago, there was a coup in which the Prime Minister (Thaksin) stepped down.  In a nutshell, PAD believes the current government to be a puppet of Thaksin and want to see Parliament dissolved with new elections held.  There are also accusations of crooked politics, PAD opposing amendments to the Constitution and lots of other details.  Thankfully, the police/military have said they will not use violence.  Tomorrow (Monday) will be the debate in Senate, followed by the Prime Minister (Samak) answering charges by the opposition.

So as it stands, Government House is still under siege, although they are trying to avoid another coup like that of 2006.  Either way, my surprise long weekend is over and it looks like it will be back to work for me tomorrow :(   

On an entirely unrelated news note, a school in northern Thailand has opened a unisex bathroom geared especially toward its transvestite students.  Sweet victory for lady-boys across the countryside!

 

Peace,

 

My Factbook to Date

Yesterday, I began my 23rd year.  It seems to follow naturally that birthdays and the New Year are excellent times for reflection and self-examination.  Mine consisted mostly of sushi and ice cream, but also a bit of the former.  I've decided to begin a list of my truths and lessons learned...not so much a World Factbook, but my very own Life Factbook, if you will.  Definitely a work in progress.

I recognize how enormously fortunate I have been...just a year out of college and I have seen more of the world than most people will in their lifetime.  I am thankful to be a woman, I am thankful to be educated and articulate, I am thankful to have parents who supported me through college so that I now have the financial independence to send myself to places like Africa and Asia.  

So for those interested parties (or if you are just particularly bored on a Tuesday night) I present to you The Factbook (a work in progress), according to yours truly:

1)  Humans could learn a lot from dogs.  I think most particularly of my canine friends Einstein and Ben: they love all, without regard to gender, color, religion or smell; they are fiercely loyal and will fight to the death to defend those they love and finally --as I think of Ben running wild through the park creek with my sister's dogs-- they play with reckless abandon.

2)  Nothing cures a hangover quite like a good Bloody.  Better yet, to avoid hangovers, use my trick: when furiously consuming copious amounts of alcohol, always best to have one glass of water between drinks.  Just try it. 

3)  Our world is getting smaller and smaller. Be kind. Share. Make an effort not to take more than you need, whether that be water, paper or ketchup packets at Burger King. 

4)  And on that note; GIVE.  It's amazing how quickly you shrink wrap your world by being selfish.  There will never be a good time for being generous...you will never have enough time or enough money. Sacrifice. And donating your used, crap clothing is not sacrifice. Yes, it is thoughtful and well-intentioned, but true sacrifice is giving up something you yourself want/enjoy/need for another person.  At the end, we cannot take anything here with us.  So read bedtime stories to your children even after a long day, visit your granny, sponsor an orphan. 

5)  Now, this one might push some buttons, but bare with me.  Memo to the World: stop fighting about damn religion.  Stop trying to prove yourselves right. There are more than 6 billion people in the world and something greater is out there...we are all just worshipping and believing in different ways, colored by our own lives and experiences. No one owns the rights to God. No one has a monopoly on what that is. The less we focus on complicated doctrines, traditions, rules (and exceptions) and hell, even sin, the better.  Before I get irate comments, this is not to say that I don't respect religion. In fact, I find beauty and guidance in religion. Alls I'm saying is, it doesn't have to be so difficult: focus more on living our lives in the way of love, compassion and service. That's all.

6)  Denim overalls will never come back. Never. Just throw them away already.

7)  There is nothing more beautiful in a woman than confidence.  In Thailand, women bleach their skin because lighter is better. In Ghana, a woman with extra meat on her bones is ideal.  In Texas, women spend a lot of money going blonde and lying in tanning beds.  The moral? Your looks will never be attractive to everyone, so best to be attractive in your own eyes.  Standards of beauty not only change from culture to culture, but over time as well.  Instead of fighting nature, we'd all be much happier working with what we have.

8)  From Holland: Work hard to play hard.  It is wonderful to have a job you enjoy.  But we must also be mindful that a job does not define our total person.  A job is not who we are, it's what we do. We are so much more than who signs our paycheck.  There are many things in life to enjoy; indulge. If you find joy in even the smallest thing, treat yourself.  It might be a glass of good red wine and a cigarette, or wearing expensive perfume. Whatever it is, don't feel guilty finding something that makes you feel good.

9)  From Africa:  Love. Love all, all the time. Humanity shares more in common than it has differences. It's time we embrace that.  Be joyful. Not just when you get the chance; always.  And finally: hope. Sometimes, the world seems so bleak.  It only takes 10 minutes of the evening news to want to lock yourself up in a bunker and not come out for 50 years. Don't do that. Stay out here and fight the good fight. Why were the refugees in Ghana so happy? Because, despite their hardships, they had an unfailing, honest, gritty, unbreakable belief in the future. In what could be. They have faith that things will get better. They live with hope.

10)  From Asia:  Presence.  Live fully in this moment, here and now.  Let yourself be blown away by the beauty of this life and the opportunities and experience it provides you.  Do not be past, do not be future, simply be now.  I think that when I am wrinkly and toothless with blue hair, I won't regret the things I did, I will regret the things I didn't do.  I have no greater fear in life (other than heights) than to look in the mirror 30 years from now and not recognize the face.  Being present doesn't mean being irresponsible, it doesn't mean massively expensive trips that take you around the world. Rather, live for the moment. Explore and discover. Push your envelope.

11)  Wear SPF 45 on your face, neck and chest every day--even if it's overcast--because that is the skin that ages the fastest; therefore betraying your age when you are a woman in your 50s trying to flirt with the cute new junior associate!

12)  Note to self: bungee jumping will not cure a fear of heights.        

Finally, a few pics!

Just a few pictures to show...more to come later!  To establish a time frame for uploading these 4 photos, I read an entire chapter of Atlas Shrugged while waiting. 

The first is with my fine culinary creation of som tum.  The second is [part of] the city.  If you notice the red billboard in the center, my apartment is just to the left. The third is me and Morgan helping to make some Thai dessert of coconut milk, corn and pumpkin.  The last is me with my spoils of war: my friends and I won Trivia night at the Dubliner, thereby earning ourselves 7 glorious liters of beer! 

Snot Stew

I must sheepishly admit that clearly, I am not on top of my Blogging game.  So readers, allow me to update you all on the last 10 days of my life:

The weekend before last, I enjoyed a perfect Bangkok Saturday.  One of the Thai teachers, Namon, invited us to a Thai-style cook out.  I went with my friends Morgan and Cayla to a quasi-family-compound.  Four houses with a shared courtyard and garden, with different members of the extended family in each house.  We spent no less than 3 hours cooking.  My "apartment" is actually a dorm room without so much as a toaster oven, so cooking in a real kitchen was delightful.  Ok, so maybe it would have been a bit nicer with air-conditioning, but c'est la vie.  The ladies were gracious enough to teach us how to make som tom, one of Thailand's most famous dishes.  A very spicy salad made with shredded papaya, tomatoes, peanuts, chilies and lime.  We also tried our hand at cooking Thai omelets, which are nothing more than eggs beat with some spices, fish sauce and cooked in a giant wok with approximately 3 gallons of oil.  When all was said and done, we had a massive spread including som tom, omelets, grilled chicken, barbecued chicken, crispy pork, some strange form of wanton-wrapped pork, Thai sausage, sticky rice, a bunch of other stuff I don't remember and more fruits than I care to name.  

A word on being vegetarian in Thailand: it is nearly impossible.  Silly me, I naturally assumed Thailand would be an overflowing land of milk, honey and tofu. Not so much.  No kidding, every single time I have been out to eat and asked for "no meat" (in Thai, no less!) they smile politely and quickly return with a dish full of pork. Every. Time.  At least they have an equal affinity for fruits and vegetables.

...but I digress.

After hours of eating ourselves into near-food-comas, the ladies insisted on teaching us to cook shrimp fried rice and tom yum (hot & sour soup made with white fish and lemon grass) which they packed up and sent home with us.  Namon took us to a great open-air market for a little shopping, which was fantastic until the skies opened up on us and Namon and I had to push a Toyota out of the way that was blocking us in. Yeah.

I wish I could report that I have been indulging in ridiculous, tourist-booky activities, but alas there is one problem with living in an exotic Asian city: I live here.  Meaning: I am categorically not on vacation.  No, I have not seen the great Emerald Buddha. Nor have I gone north to ride elephants, I have not been to a "ping-pong" show (Google that only if you must, but don't say I didn't warn you) I haven't even toured the Grand Palace Grounds.  I have a laundry list of things to see, but Monday to Friday, I leave for work promptly at 7 am, don't return home until about 5 pm, at which point I unwind for a bit before I take off for the gym, not returning home until nearly 9. Then, of course, I read and go to bed.  This means my weekends are left for spine-tingling excursions like trips to the supermarket, hand-washing and line-drying my laundry and cleaning my little shoebox living quarters.  

Not to worry, I promise to have adventures asap!  

As for work, my no-longer-preggo counterpart has actually been replaced by Nudon, my new teaching partner.  She spent 8 years in Virginia, for college and graduate school.  She speaks great English and we get along famously.  It's been more challenging than I expected giving up my autonomy and trying to mesh styles, but we're making it work.  Dare me to tell you a really gross story?  Ok!

The other day, Nudon was teaching new material in Thai (easier for the kids to learn this way and then I am able to take over in English) so I was walking around the classroom monitoring (I now have an entire desk drawer full of contraband: erasers made into magical launching pads, rulers transformed into swords, pens morphed into rocket-launchers, etc) when I witnessed a sight so horrifying, it must be shared with the world via Internet...

As I am walking around, I notice T. (I will not use his full name in order to protect his privacy...he will likely appreciate this in 10 years, so that future girlfriends will never find out the truth) sneeze. Now, like a good gentleman, T. covers his mouth with his hand when sneezing. However, not so gentlemanly was what followed: the accursed sneeze, is the body's moment of ultimate exhibitionism, when the sinuses gloriously--shamelessly--reveal to the world what had previously been hidden in the cavernous darkness of our nostrils. Generally, this is nothing more than harmless spittle. But sometimes, as in the case of T., the sneeze also expels something far more sinister: snot.  And so, after covering his face to sneeze, I notice T. take away his hand with said snottiness attached. Wait, it gets better (or worse, if that's your prerogative)...he then pauses a moment, before sniffing the offending mass of mucus.  And wait, waaaait; then, horror of horrors: LICKS IT.  Apparently, his 12-year-old self could not be troubled to excuse himself to wash his hands. No, no, licking up his snot was clearly a far better solution, as now I am sure it frees up his time to find answers to pressing issues like: the global food crisis, cancer and just what happens to the other sock in the dryer.  I tried not to stare. Worst part is, T. is one of my favorite students...one of those who listens sweetly and always offers to carry workbooks to the office.  Hence, he also happens to be one of the affectionate kiddos. Yeah, "affectionate" as in, uses his [apparently snotty] hands to physically contact me. gasp!  *Note to self: must invest in haz-mat suit, stat.*

Forget what they say....kids: they eat the darndest things!      

Ajaan Bobbi

I have survived 12 days of teaching...friends, this is no small feat.  The day I turned 15, I started my first job waiting tables and continued that trend until I graduated college.  Thanks to those years in the food service industry, I maintain that all people should wait tables at least once in their lifetime.  You really can't appreciate all that hack until you actually deal with people who ask things like, "does the cheeseburger come with cheeeeeese on it?"  Not to mention, when you live on $2.13 an hour before Uncle Sam, you learn to appreciate living on tips and the finesse needed to master the perfect superficial smile/courtesy laugh.

Now, I am not changing my tune, merely adding a new verse: all people should wait tables and teach at least once in their lifetime.  You really can't appreciate all that hack until you actually deal with children asking you, "Teacher, how old are you? 47? No? Younger? 45?"  Boy, that cheeseburger is sounding mighty fine about now.

In all seriousness, I enjoy teaching.  In our classrooms, all farang teachers are paired with a Thai teacher.  The class is split in half by language ability.  My students are a classic bell curve, with a handful being extremely advanced or completely clueless, with the rest falling somewhere in the middle.  Unfortunately, my counterpart is on maternity leave so I have been flying solo.  Factor in a staggering language barrier and 125 6th grade students and you have a recipe for near disaster...or at least extreme frustration.  However, I've somehow managed to keep my cool without the assistance of only-legal-in-Southeast-Asia-pharmeceutical-grade-downers.  

I will admit however, that I am a bit jealous of my fellow American teachers at Chitralada Prathom (Chritralada Elementary)...they are generally blessed with young children in sweet braids who hang on every word their shiny new teacher spews.  I have the curse of preteens who are a) completely and utterly over me and b) much like Basset Hounds, smell a little strong and have zero desire to please anyone.  

On the other hand, I have the blessing of young personalities.  I am slowly learning names and by Day One, could already identify unique personas in my little pubescent herd.  In every class, I have the advanced individuals (generally, the children of foreign diplomats who like to proudly inform me that, "they know the 'F' word!"), the helpers (who collect workbooks and carry them to my office), the class clowns (who, incidentally, also know the 'F' word), the shy itty-bits in the back, the populars and the rebels.  

Oddly enough, I feel myself transported back to the 6th grade...desperately wanting these kids approval. I want them to like me.  I know it is completely naive to hope that at the end of 10 months they might actually (gasp!) look forward to my class. But one can hope, yes?   

Naturally, my students (and everyone else in Thailand, for that matter) struggles with pronouncing "Phyllis."  That means my name has officially been changed to Bobbi.  Ajaan (teacher) Bobbi at that!  For a job I never imagined having, I am loving teaching.  Cheesy as it sounds, I feel a lot of pride being called Teacher.  It really has nothing to do with ego, honest.  It is simply that I now realize what a gift it is to teach.  For all its difficulties, at the end of the day, there is a really good feeling to not just possessing knowledge, but also the ability to effectively share it with other people. 

Because let's face it, 90% of my job is making my students believe that I've known for a lifetime what I just taught myself [that morning] about past imperfect irregular verbs.  

But hey, at least I'm not living off tips anymore. 

 

The Land of Smiles

27 hours, 3 flights, countless airplane meals and many, many mini-bottles of wine...I am in my new home!

The flights were uneventful and we arrived after midnight on Tuesday.  We got to the apartment building after 1 am and had to be at work at 9:00 the same day.  Whew! Talk about exhaustion! Our first few days were spent at work, preparing for classes (which begin Monday) and getting settled with things like internet and cell phones. 

I've quickly decided that one year will not even scratch the surface of this city.  With a population of some 9 million, Bangkok is HUGE.  It is also dirty, overpopulated, polluted, loud and jarring...funny thing is, I absolutely love it here.  I feel very comfortable in the big city.  I definitely will never be able to go back to living in a place like Dallas again.  It would just be too...conventional  ;)  

A word on heat in Bagkok:  it is oppressive.  At just 2 feet above sea level, we are considered a tropical monsoon climate.  It rains daily and the heat is like nothing I experienced in Texas.  Even at night, the temperature hovers in the mid to high 80s, with at least 60% humidity...and that's the relief after the sun goes down.  I cannot express how thankful I am for having almost no hair!  If I had a Native American tribal name, I believe it would go something like this: "Bobbi, woman who is one with her sticky sweatiness and embraces with whole heart the stinky."  Yeah, something like that.  In speaking with a couple of friends, we have noticed an unattractive symptom of humid heat: swollen feet.  The flats I bought for work specifically for their comfort are now little torture chambers cleverly disguised as patent leather cuteness. Lies!  An hour into my day, my heels and toes are puffy, red and can barely squeeze into flip-flops.  This is only compounded by the fact that I am now sweating out of pores I never knew existed on my body.

Do you know what else all this damp heat leads to?  You guessed it: mosquitoes.  Again, like nothing in Texas.  No, no.  These bitches make Texas mosquitoes look like a nice summer visitor you might invite over for a slice of lemon pie.  Thai mosquitoes are so big they could fly a jet liner and they are out for blood.  I swear, one bit me this afternoon and it actually fell over on my arm and with blood-bloated belly asked if I might kindly hail him a cab for home.  I swear. 

In short, I am a sweaty, jet-lagged, mess of mountainous mosquito bites.  Still, I have what the Thai call "suk jai."

Translation:  happy heart.

Free falling

One hour to the airport and I am just about finished packing...

In January, one of my best friends -Adam- wanted to bungee jump to celebrate his birthday.  I thought this would help me overcome my intense phobia of heights.  I was shackled down with harnesses and with heavily weighted ankles, climbed some 100 feet of scaffolding.  At the top, I was seized with panic...losing all control over my body, I could not make the jump.  

I have returned the keys to my apartment, signed over the title of my car, given away my furniture and packed away what is left.  My entire life is held in a few file boxes in a closet at my parent's house...the rest is in my suitcase.  Owning so little is a feeling of great freedom...it's liberating.  Because the day I spend $1400 on a coffee table, will be the day when possessions start ruling my life and anchoring me down.  

So here we go...

Climb up...don't look down.

Let go of the safety bars...arms over chest.  Close your eyes.

A deep breath...in...out. Now...

1...

     2...

          3....

                            JUMP.

The fool in me

I have to be at the airport in 11 hours and naturally, I am just now beginning to pack...I have a long night ahead of me with the Radiohead concert and all.

My sister made the good point that I ought to explain my move to Thailand...Professor Kay Mueller of the Sociology department created a partnership recruiting Baylor graduates to teach at the Chitralada Palace School.  I was offered a position last year, but turned it down for several reasons.  When the opportunity presented itself again, I had to take it.  How often does a once in a lifetime chance come at you twice?  

I will be teaching conversational english at the Prathom Elementary School on the Palace grounds.  My contract is for one year, with the option to renew.  My only anxiety going into this is the idea of teaching, but I will certainly get the hang of it. As far as moving to another country, I don't see it any differently than moving from Dallas to Ft. Worth.  

Really, there is nothing I enjoy more than having Life come along, surprise me with a left-hook, box my ears, grab me by the ankles, shake me around, steal my milk money and muss up my hair.  At which point, I can straighten myself and with a chin propped up by nothing more than a little pride and a whole lot of gusto, look Life square in the eyes and say, "Oh yeah? What else ya got?"

On other hand, I often wonder if things would be easier if I were a bit more conventional...if I could just be content to stay in Dallas and get married.  Instead, here I am, a young, tattooed woman who cuts off all her hair and casually announces she will be moving to Asia.  I believe Theodore Rubin said it best: "I must learn to love the fool in me: the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries."

...ya know, I think he's right. I don't think I'd have myself any other way. 

everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

Last night I dreamed of Thailand...

Although fleeting, the vision was vivid.  One of those strange moments where- behind the backs of my eyelids and deep into my mind- I was able to smell and touch.  

I remember being in an endless ocean, which was at once blue and completely clear. I could feel the water, which was only waist-deep, anchor the trunk of my body. I was surrounded by music and people...all different kinds. We did not all speak the same language, yet I somehow understood every word. I was not afraid. 

Here is what I remember most: looking above, the sky seemed absolutely endless, unattainable. Then, these new friends took turns throwing me into the air...somehow, I touched the heavens. It was euphoria and harmony, both.

I pray it is just like that, just as I imagined.

Please, God, let it feel just like that.

It's been a long time...

So here we are again,

I hopped on the blogging bandwagon last year, during my trip to Africa. I found self-publishing to be many different things: for one, it feeds my delusional self-confidence by leading me to believe I have a small grouping of faithful followers; secondly I can communicate my wacky, tacky and [sometimes] true ideas to a [somewhat] captive audience.

In writing, we always learn to identify the target audience. The friends and family in my life are truly characters, with many and varied personalities, world views and backgrounds. That being said, I only hope that this blog is an enjoyable read for those who choose to stop by. This is a place for me to not only relay stories of my travels, but also to make commentary, raise pertinent social questions and share a new culture. I will be happy to have your comments and questions as I write.

My granny will be reading this, so I will try my best to use clean language ;) On a somewhat related note, much can be lost in translation and humor does not always transfer well in these mediums. Hopefully, my jokes will fly more than flop. Hopefully.

xoxo