Monday, June 29, 2009

Thank you, Michael.




I don't know what this little girl is doing, but the spirit obviously moves her. God Bless.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

The Weekend in Pictures part II

Flowers for the gods: Us. It's Wai Kru, a Buddhist holiday that give praise to teachers. The kids, otherwise indifferent to teachers any other day, were laying these flowers at our feet and kneeling with a strange reverence that made me slightly uncomfortable. The students made all of these flower arrangements so, I found that really nice that they put so much thought in the occasion.


Outside the strange Dutch (or German?) restaurant Bann Nam Kieng Din "House beside a river" is the literal translation, according to Tip. This her favorite restaurant. For someone to get to know her, they have to get to know this restaurant. It was an especially confusing experience to say the least. There's a windmill outside, but the waiting staff is wearing Bavarian inspired costumes. Milk maids and lederhosen. Inside there are ponds with ducks, and small bunny islands. . .


The Milkmaids hanging out.




Tip and her best friend Git deciding what to order. All of the seating of this restaurant is outside.
In the event of rain, there's giant umbrellas for each table.


Bunny Island!



Me and Git at dusk

Maria dancing with Pak at Bo's after dinner discotheque



Digital cameras are our major source of entertainment at parties

Excess Baggage

Whenever I go out, this is what I carry with me. Inside a 1'x2' plaid tote from Target, I carry the following items.
-That red wallet on the side of the picture.
-A full 600ml bottle of water
-2 kinds of bug repellent, one spray, one lotion.
-an umbrella
-my mobile
-an extra pair of flip flops
-a hairbrush with clips
-2 notebooks, one small, one large
-a map of Bangkok
-my MP3 player
-some toilet paper
- a paper back "Around the World in 80 dates"
-trial size deodorant
-trial size sunscreen, SPF 50, water and sweat proof
-my passport
-my house keys
-a tube of hydrocortizone cream
-Neutrogena lip balm
- a Thai phrasebook


Everyone I come into contact with says that the bags I carry are massive. They also ask, "Do you really need everything that's in there?" And I reply, "Of course I do!" What if it's sunny, I'll need more block, what if the mosquitos are out, I'll need protection. What if I'm bored? I'll need something to read. What if I need to write a poem? I'll need pen and paper, not just any pen and paper, my SPECIAL notebook! And this comes off as weird to some people. They try lifting my bag to prove their point. Of course they struggle, but I think it's just added dramatic effect.

"How can you carry all of this extra weight? That's got to be at least 15 pounds!"

I don't think about it. I might be throwing my spine out of alignment, but at least I'm prepared. Until one day when I came home from a long day out and about and eased my bag onto my bed. My shoulder was sore, my neck was strained, and I was exhausted. The unfortunate thing was that I'd gotten a massage that day. . . only to ruin it with creating all new tension throughout my upper body. What a waste of valuable baht.

So I made the decision, on Saturday, I would pack lighter. But first, I had to ask myself what I was so afraid of that I would bring half of my possessions with me. I'm still new to this city in many ways and I'm afraid I'll be caught in a predicament. But what would be so horrible that I could justify bringing an extra pair of shoes with me? My familiar possessions were helping me cope with new experience of hacking it alone in Bangkok. Only they weren't, they were actually hindering my experience, by keeping me bogged down; physically and mentally.

I started with a new bag. I would have enabled myself if I continued to carry my tote bag, believing I could carry only half of my stuff. In my mind, purses are like Trick or Treat pillowcases, they're meant to be filled to the brim. The bag I chose was a bag I was hustled into buying on the street by a young woman who gave me a discount "because I speak good Thai." I had planned to mail it home, but I gave it second thought. It was challengingly small. There's no way, even if I were in familiar Normal, Illinois, I would carry a bag that small.

Way to be ballsy!



In the new bag, I carried:
-A map of Bangkok
-a small notebook
-my passport
-my mobile
-an ink pen
-my credit card
-some baht
-my house keys
- my camera (of course, you can't see it at the moment.)

Keep in mind that some of these items like my money, keys, and mobile were in my pants pocket. This was just in case, someone snatched my tiny purse, making a quick getaway because the damn thing's so light. I'd at least be left with my money, a way to get back into my home, and a way to call Noah and sob about how the fates have cursed my purse choices. I would sacrifice my books, I never get to read them while traveling anyway. I sacrificed all of my toiletries and trusted where ever I was heading would have toilet paper, and an insignificant amount of mosquitoes. I had to trust that nothing would happen to the shoes I was wearing on my feet. If I got sweaty, I would have to trust that I wouldn't be the only person in the city of Bangkok that smelled a little funky. I had to trust that my life wasn't going to fall apart in a day's trip around the city.

Leaving the house was a hardship. I stopped at the doorway and thought about what I was doing. Was this smart? Was I being reckless? I felt a little too naked and little too light. As I finally pulled myself way from my room, walked down the stairs and out the front door, I told myself that this was it!

How did it go?

I sat in a McDonalds eating french fries when I had a startling realization. I'm not a backpacking tourist. I've got more permanence in Thailand than I think I do. It's okay to be on familiar terms with the city. I suddenly felt a tremendous sense of pride of my ability to keep myself alive on so few items! My items weren't going to get me to and from taxis and subways, it would be my instinct and my street smarts. I now trust that I'll be fine traveling lighter.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Dear Miss Susannah Roderick

How are you? I hope you're well,
remaining active and stress-free.
I'm doing rather well, trying my
best to get some rest.

You, at one time, were inquiring about
elephants.
You wanted to know if I'd seen any.
It turns out I did.
I neglected to take a picture, you'll just
have to take my word.

I forgot
that on my disappointing
Saturday excursion to Pattaya, I spotted
a man riding an elephant on the side of road.
Since I was the only American in the car,
I was the only one that was excited.

Do know that the next time I see an elephant
I will tell it to stand still long enough for
a picture.
I could have fooled you
and just found a picture on the internet.
Copy and paste.
But you deserve better.

So don't think that I've forgotten,
still on a mission.
As always, peace and much love,
I shall write again in the future.
You're welcome to write me whenever
you've the time.

Love Charish

Thailand, Chan rak teu

When he told her he loved her,
She knew it was coming
but she cried anyway.
The sisters looked at her, concerned
she pointed to her food
"Too spicy."
They shook their heads.
Poor farang girl
If he said it any other day
she'd quickly say it back
and with a laugh
She didn't need to tell him
this wasn't that day.

Kanokwan looks suspiciously at our wedding photo that sits on my desk. He lingers and talks about beautiful weather, begs for a study guide for the next "examination--- I told him I didn't have a study guide because I haven't even planned a test yet. He looks at the photo again and I expect a major fall out. "Teacher! I thought you were single, alone, unwed. You lying harlot!" He doesn't know what a harlot is. He gropes for words and is slightly lost. I watch him watch you--- you smiling, you drinking coffee, you with an arm slung around me . . . It was obviously too soon for personal photos on the desk or not soon enough? "Your husband?" I nod cautiously. He points and asks if we are Roman Catholic. Surprising. I tell him "kinda". Okay, I must go, he tells me. Have a good day, teacher, it was nice to meet you. Kanokwan "meets" me nearly everyday and I correct him nearly everday with "It's nice to see you." I stop holding my breath.

While I listen to my sobbing
friend talk about lost love,
my initial thought was:
It's getting late and I
must get home.
She had not found her soul
mate and it effected us all
Soul mate?
Do they still make those?
We fall "in love" a million times,
I said with conviction,
then the other person falls right out.
That was crass.
What I wanted to say,
but I was sleepy,
was that he's out there!
There's someone for everyone!
This one just wasn't for you.
I'm usually better than this, but
Soul mates?
Only through divine intervention,
pure coincidence, or tragic irony do we
find these allusive soul mates.
And when we do,
we know that our paths were
destined to overlap
we are certain that our shopping
for produce together is not only
lovely but necessary
we know that we're pieces that fit---
shit, we're not sanded to the point where
we don't cause friction when
rubbed
the wrong way---
but we fit comfortably
I could have told my
distraught friend all of this
but I was having an off day. . .
and I was content with the idea
of already finding my own
soul mate

Monday, June 22, 2009

You can find Army underwear at the market!




Beautiful sunset on the river.















Brilliant child performing on the street.















Dave and I found the small bar called Viva's. Finally.















Military undies!
















Owl handbags!

Sunday, June 21, 2009

A Miscommunicated Saturday


On the road to Pattaya.





When I was asked if I wanted to go to beach destination, Pattaya, this weekend, I was stoked. Finally, to get out of the city limits of Bangkok and see some lush greenery, sandy beaches, some ocean!

Nut, my badminton friend invited me, informing me that his brother and friend were going to Pattaya to spend some time on the beach and play volleyball. I swear that's what he said, or at least that's what I heard. I felt like he said, "Please come with us to play beach volleyball." I jumped on it for that reason. How serious of a game could it be if I'm going to wear a bikini and read a book when I get tired.

mmh.

As we set out on Saturday afternoon, I was feeling hopeful. Nut and his brother Gah, and their friend Noom picked me up at the school where I work and we set out on the road. As soon as I got in the car, Nut began his ritual of feeding me. "Here, have some Thai fruit." "Here, have roasted pork." "Here, please take some of this watermelon." I eat and I eat because I have a hard time refusing him and he's just so nice about it.

As he drove, I ate, Noom slept, and Gah was being his usual moody self. I quickly found that the Thai attitude of driving in the city was the same on the interstate. I didn't want to be a backseat driver, but Nut was making some driving errors that frightened me a little. For instance, to bypass a traffic jam, Nut thought nothing of driving on a road that was still being constructed. We jumped back into traffic, like it was nothing. While Nut was peeling fruit and talking on the phone, he missed his turn and made a reckless U turn into oncoming traffic. No one was more alarmed than I.

After two hours and dozens of traffic infractions, we made it to Pattaya, a city Noah describes as trying to remake it's images as a place where "you can bring the family." I could see how it was doing that. There was a lot of shopping one could do on the street, plenty of food vendors, and I even saw some children. However, nothing could really cover up the fact that Thai women were patrolling the beaches looking for Western men. But no worries, every one's gotta work! I just want to see the water. And I did, for a few moments as we drove by.

"We're here!" I cried from the backseat. "Yay! Let's park and get out!"

But we weren't there yet. According to Nut, we still had a little ways to go. Oh, I figured, perhaps we were headed to a more private, more Thai beach where there weren't Italian men walking around in speedos. Okay, that's cool, I can wait. We drove and we drove and we drove some more until we got to place that wasn't beachy at all. We pull off the road and into a park. A bleeding park! That was in the woods!

When we rolled up to the volleyball courts, my heart sank to my feet. Where are we? I wondered, who are all of these men playing volleyball so seriously? It turned out that all of those men, there about fifteen in all, were friends of Nut's who took the sport so seriously, there was diving in the dirt. Dirt, not sand. There was jumping six feet in the air and dominating the net with earth shattering spikes. I was so unprepared.

"I don't have the right clothes to play volleyball," I admitted to Nut.

"I told you we play volleyball, yes?"

"On the beach," I clarified.

"We visit beach later," he saw that I looked heartbroken and patted me on the arm. "It's okay, I have shorts and shoes in my truck. It was greatly appreciated, considering all I had brought with me was a bathing suit (which I was already wearing under a flowy tunic and a pair of jeans. My footwear? Flip flops.

This is what I ended up looking like:


When the men saw me, I knew immediately that although they would be polite enough, I was going to cramp their style. I was quickly introduced. "Hi my name is Gra-tai!" It turned out that there was another Gra-tai in the group. I found a man named bunny was quite entertaining. I also found out later, that there would be a good reason for this.

So they let me play and I played poorly. It had been a long time since I'd played volleyball. Maybe since high school. Even then, boys would bogart the games in gym class. Sooner than later, I was asked by one of the players to sit the next couple of games out. I knew what meant. So I warmed the bench indefinitely. As I watched the games unfold without me in them, I noticed something interesting about "Other Gra-tai" and his pals. They were all definitely gay. I'd don't know the Thai translation for: "You go girl!" but I have a feeling that was said a lot. There was a lot of loose wrist high fives and bum slapping as well. The latter you can find in a super macho sport actually. But the guys were lovely all the same. I asked them if they could pose for a picture for the blog and like most gay men, they complained of not looking cute enough or they shoved at one another to be caught on camera.


After sitting on the sidelines and looking bored, Nut decided it was best for his bother Gah to take me to the beach. By then it was night time and I was very uninterested in seeing the beach. I took my wallet with me, forgot my camera, which was a bummer, and followed Gah to the touristy part of Pattaya. I literally got my feet wet for about five minutes.

Sigh. The day ended with us going to dinner after a rousing few games. There, Nut ordered food for me and forced me to eat curry covered crabs. I was a willing participant, but I was getting tired and definitely ready to go home. On our way home, I fell asleep, but woke sometime to see that we'd taken a pit-stop for Nut to buy more fruit at the market.

"Are you asleep?" he asked me.

"Not now, no. I'm awake."

"Here, have some Sirisiak pineapple. It is very good." I had to refuse him on the grounds that I was terribly full and that I wasn't a little German girl named Gretel and I didn't have brother who was already thrown into a pot. Even when he dropped me off at my front door, he put a container of sticky rice and mango into my hands. "Put this in your refrigerator, eat later, it is very delicious."

I cringed inwardly and took, thanking him the entire time. Pattaya was a bit disappointing, but if I look at it in a different light I'll see that it wasn't all that bad. I didn't spend any money on unnecessary purchases and I came home with another great memory about my awkward game with the guys. Postcards and seashells can't beat that.

Friday, June 19, 2009

On the Motorbike at Night

The young monks that I sped past were
boyishly handsome; wearing orange robes
and mischievous smiles.
What is it like to be a sixteen year old boy with no
earthly desires?

Thursday, June 18, 2009

What's Love Got To Do With It?

I've given my heart to one man. I love him dearly and no one else.

But. . .

There could be another man that might give Noah a run for his money. I'm talking about the crepe vendor that waits for me right outside of the school. For ten baht, this man takes away my cares with a French dessert filled with chocolate. Thank you, imperialist France, for your influence in neighboring countries!

After a long hard day at the office, I walked home feeling a little glum. My students were beasts, my lesson plan was a farce, and my feet hurt. On the horizon, however, is my savior, a middle aged man who runs the crepes cart on the street. I've been eating a lot of street food since I've been here; taking chances on various meats that sit outside in the heat and amongst the flies, I thought I should get started on dessert too.

This was my third trip to the Crepe man. He's starting to know my order pretty well, one crepe, butter, chocolate filling, with a bit of what looks like Bavarian cream. His cart is right next to the guy to makes mango salad and I feel bad that I pass that man's cart without so much looking his way. Today was not a salad day. Hell, after the day I had, I could have eaten three crepes.

Amongst all the people on the street, the two sisters who own the restaurant across the street, the mango salad man, the taxi drivers, Crepe Man decides that this was a good time to profess his love for me. Yes, I have that affect on crepe dealers.

He made a gesture with his two index fingers coming together as one and pointed at me. I didn't understand at all. After a lot of smiling and gesturing, he finally told me in with great hesitance:

"I," he points to himself. "Love." He then points to me. "You!"

I laughed. Me? You love me?

"Chai krup, chai." Yes, yes. "I love you!"

Oh jeez, how to handle this delicately. There was a second, though, as I watched him drizzle chocolate on the pan, I wondered what the living arrangements would be like. As his girlfriend, would I be guaranteed free crepes on demand? Would he be available to kill my roaches on demand?

I thought about it for a SECOND, Noah!

I pointed to my wedding ring and said, "I have husband, I have fan." I think that's the Thai word for husband. Realization dawned on Crepe Man and everyone else within earshot. The street erupted in laughter. The motorbike taxi guys ragged on him, the sisters across the street scolded him, and I was mortified for him. I hoped this wouldn't ruin my crepe relationship with him. So I told him quickly,

"I love your crepes!" I patted my belly and went "mmmhh." He didn't understand, so I tried again. "Chorp crepes, aroi mak mak. . . mmmmhh."

He broke into a smile and nodded. With a thumbs up, things were back on track. The mango salad man was still chiding him by the time I left. As I took a bite into that crepe, I realized I probably would have told Crepe Man anything to get my hands another crepe. But I decided it's best to keep things business only.
Mmmmhh.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

They Call Me. . . Mrs. Gra-tai

Without any font changes, you'd never know that the title was in reference to Sydney Poitier's role in In the Heat of the Night. Just know that it is.

But that's what the teachers have started calling me on the badminton courts. It's a Thai nickname (a cheu lin) that means rabbit. Everyone here has a nickname and you use it to make yourself more familiar with others. It's much less formal than saying my name is Charish. Where did they get rabbit from? Well, I had a hand in that. I can't say that I've ever had a nickname before; one that was used regularly or one that was pulled from my name. But Thailand is a new start. Here, I can be known as anything I want to be. Nicknaming came to my rescue.

It should also be said that in the Thai language, my name is extremely difficult for them to pronounce anyway. CH's are pronounced like J's, R's are pronounced like L's and they don't even bother with the SH at the end. What you end up with is: Jel-LI, because all names are said with the last name on a climbing intonation. I'm Jelli. *sigh*

But where did rabbit come from? It's really goofy, but I just love rabbits! So much so, that Noah started calling me rabbit. I'm his rabbit and I like carrots, nom nom nom. I don't really like carrots, but I ask you, what is cuter?

So does it fly in Bangkok? Cheu lin's are usually monosyllabic. My roommate's cheu lin is Nam, which means "water." I asked my new Thai friend Nut what he thought about rabbit. He laughed as though he forgot his nickname was Nut.

"Rabbit?" He shook his head with tears in his eyes. "The translation is gra-tai. I guess it will work."

So now when we're on the courts, I'm a leaping rabbit! "Gra-tai, set up the shot!" "Gra-tai, it's yours!" "Gra-tai, you're up, stop eating!"

What? Sometimes even rabbits get hungry on the courts.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Observations

Not all Thai women are short and skinny
there are some tall and fat ones.
Where the hell do they buy their clothes
and shoes

Who is lonelier than that girl eating
a small pan pizza by herself at Pizza Company?
No one.
Luckily, I brought a book

A big deal every time it rains here
I could leave my bedroom
and witness the storm if I wanted.
Not because it's an inconvenience or
dangerous. . .
It's the living that makes me want
to leave the house

Sunday, June 14, 2009

The Weekend in Pictures


Dave and I went temple hopping today, but ran into a lovely Portuguese Catholic Church. Santa Cruz.








Here's Dave at the top of Wat Arun, reflecting on our climb up









The famous reclining Buddha












Down boy, down!









Lovely new friend invited me to a stunning dinner!









Finishing meal, I am totally im!










Bo's condo. Quite lovely!









Yeah, I took a picture of my massage room. Who know's when I'll be back to do something so luxurious!







My gra-tai friend was brought in by my student. A wonderful distraction!

Thursday, June 11, 2009

A Day

What one could give to meet a kindred spirit.
On the back of a motorbike I raise my hand to
answer a universal truth, the wind whips though
it ignoring and passing to another passenger. I
am on the edge of a seat and very near a pavement
not belonging to me

All I really want is his song
we can sing it together and peace the night
together, with a roundabout choral from start
to finish. I can’t listen to his songs without being
sick and once I told him laughingly to stop.
Stop! but some protests are mainly about desires
and sometimes some protests have no refrains

No one has a problem with my dinner
in my room, under the cold, I’m free to suck
as many chicken backs, I can handle and I know the
consequence. Don’t worry
I will lock the door
Don’t worry, I will dispose, repose and commit
When I am finished I’ll pass myself the naps
Why thank you,
Thank you

Let’s take them to work with us,
lets take them home, lets let’s put them
in glass and watch them grow.
I will grow with them like the ferns and weeds
they want to become, itching and passing time.
Feet higher
and still there’s some catching up to do. I’d rather
put some in my pocket for later.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Packed the Fro and Took it to Bangkok















That's me writing this blog. In my fro. You all have seen it, no big deal. Here in Bangkok, even with their progressive fashion sense, it is a HUGE deal.

So Monday, I stepped out on the street in a gray pencil skirt, blue blouse and cream colored pumps. There was never a hotter English teacher in all of Thailand.

And the people knew it.

The Thai teachers were amazed. The kids were enthralled. The two sisters, who own the restaurant I go to, gave me a thumbs up! Of course, there were blank stares. Those I was expecting immediately.

"Teacha! Teacha!" screamed a group of girls.
"Yes?"
"You are BEAUTIFUL!" They all ran around, arms circled above their head, giggling like mad. There is the occasionally pointing and staring, there are giggles, but I say it all beats having to straighten my hair obsessively for the next four months.

I couldn't believe how big an issue hair would be before I came over here. To tell the truth I feel like I did very little to prepare for this trip, hair was probably the last thing on my mind. Friends and family did ask my what I would do about the it.

Leave it as is, I guess. I don't know.

However, when I got here, I chickened out. I wore it in a bun, a ponytail, and then I started to straighten it. A hot press job takes a good hour to complete on a good day. On a bad day, (going from an afro to straight locks) maybe two hours.

I don't have that kind of time! I can't possibly wake up earlier than I already do just to fry my hair! Only for it to frizz up in this wet and humid weather anyway. For that reason, there was no way I could keep it up.

Another reason was the enthusiasm my co-worker Ploy had for my straight do as opposed to other days. "Ahh Charish, your hair look beautiful! Wear it like that all the time, yeah?" Or whenever we had a meet and greet with school officials. "Look beautiful tomorrow, yeah?"

uh. . . no.

Never been too fond of people telling how to look. I broke down and combed it out. The first afro outside of the house was to a bar. At this particular bar, women, who I believe were prostitutes, swarmed me immediately. The "madam" asked me if it was real. Sure it was, who would willingly fake this? About ten hookers began patting my hair.
"Oooh. . . aaah!"

Interesting first.

Just today, the third day of the fro, a student asked if I got it at Khaosan Rd. I was puzzled. Got what? My hair? I tugged at it and told her. This is mine. I didn't get it anyhere. My student was amazed.
"You grow?"
I nodded.
"WOW!"

Yeah, well. The fro is not going anywhere. I think it's going to be a staple.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Thailand loves Badminton



I completely forgot that tonight was the night I agreed to play badminton with the teachers from school! Apparently I agreed to this a week or so ago. I ran home after school and picked out "sportswear." Shorts and a striped polo would do, a cleverly tied bandana, some cute shades, my sporty wristwatch. If I wasn't prepared to sweat, I at least looked cute.


And no, I was not prepared to sweat.

Things were going well at first, though. I started off batting around a birdie, no big deal. We're all havin' fun. But of course, when it comes to sports like this, it's easy to over do it. The Thai are a mellow group of people when it comes to badminton, but they're damned good. I don't know, it might be a national sport. But like I said, they keep it cool. My co-workers were not competitive, they didn't berate one another on an easy shot that was missed. It was all good natured fun. No one took score and no one kept track of who served.

If I were playing tennis with my friend Dani Fox at home, we would have sworn death on one another, then moved to making verbal assaults towards each other's mother, and then wrapped up the game with racquet throwing and accusations of cheating.

As I said, I was starting to overdo it. Within an hour, if you were to wring out my shirt, you'd get a full cup of sweat. My face was beet-red and it was evident that I was terribly out of shape. I can't wait to do it again on Thursday.




Ahh! I'm so red!

Monday, June 8, 2009

"Us" Is a Pronoun too?

As I watched my students work on a Greetings and Departures word search today, I came to the startling realization that most new teachers come to in their first few days of teaching.

What if my students find out that I don't know what I'm doing? What if they realize that I'm making it all up as I go along? What if they catch on to the fact that I could care less if they find all of the phrases in that word search, because it's all just busy work, buying me some time so I can plan real lessons later?

I broke out into a sweat as I look at them working furiously to find "Take it easy!" diagonal and backwards. They don't seem to know. The jig is not up just yet.

Apparently teacher training does not come from a book, according to my friend Evelyn. Apparently you have to learn as you go along. Apparently it's full of disasters, ah-hah moments, and incidents like this:

In my earlier class, I made up worksheets on nouns, proper nouns, and pronouns. On the pronouns handout, I wanted to them read all the sentences and circle all pronouns. One sentence read as follows:
All of us are having fun at the playground, we don't want to go home!
One student circled his pronouns---we and us--- and asked me if it was correct.

"Yep, except us isn't a pronoun."

Confused was his expression.
Steadfast was my response.

"Us is a pronoun."

We went back an forth on this for about two minutes before I began doubting my position. Am I wrong? Am I stupid? What did I go to school for? It's not like I majored in grammar though, I'm a poet. Poets don't have to follow the rules! I'm in no position to teach children when I can't even follow the rules! What other pronouns are out there?! I am an unfit teacher! AHHH!

I stopped my internal rant just long enough to catch a teacher walking past the door. I told my student to hold on just a second as I ran out of the room. I asked a Thai teacher out of desperation if us was a pronoun. It was confirmed that us was indeed a pronoun, an objective personal pronoun.

Sigh.

I apologized and thanked my student for being so smart and counted the slip up as one of those reminders that teaching is not perfect and I need to brush up on simple grammar rules. I calmed down just a bit as the students continued their word search. As far as they knew, they were learning something and I was still competent.

So I kept my mouth shut and let them work.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

On Wildlife

There are dogs, strays, that remind me of the homeless population of Thailand. You ignore them and they won't ask you of anything. They howl loudly when the ice cream man rolls by.

I saw a rat on Khao San Road. It made sense. The whole road is a fetid mess when the westerners head home.

There is a tiny gecko in my bathroom. It's not hurting anyone, but I'm about to take a shower soon and I want it gone!

Every once in a while, I see fat millipedes. They come out when it rains.

There's a cat that meows loudly, and it's sitting right near my bedroom window, on the roof. What's it's complaint? There are so many geckos for it eat!

I saw my first honey bee, in a really long time, a few days ago. It scared the hell out of me because I was under the impression that all bees all over the world were endangered. Just in America, I suppose. Unfortunately, I swatted at it and may have killed it. Hopefully there is more where that came from.

Well, that's it. It's a lot for a sheltered girl to deal with. My mother kept the doors and windows of our home shut all the time. So if we found so much as an ant on the wall, it meant infestation. That probably didn't prepare me for tropical living.