You Can Lead a Horse to the Water. . .

I yelled at my kids today, I felt terrible for it. I think it might have something to do with my air conditioning and PMS. This was the last time I'd meet with them before their midterm, so I gave them a study guide to go over in class. They begged for something to study, but then changed their minds and decided to do other things like talk, go to the toilet, start doing their make up and hair. . .

And then I yelled at them. I'm not proud of it, but I have to say that once I did it, I was on a roll. The berating took at least five minutes. I told them things like: "This isn't my test, it's your test!" "I'm not the one trying to get a job in tourism!" "You're all going to fail if you don't listen!" "Help me help you!" "I don't want to see you end up in the sex industry taking orders from a snaggle toothed pimp!"
Okay maybe not the last one, but you know where my heart was.
The room got sullen and they were quiet. To add to my point and to prevent myself from hitting one of them, I left the room. I didn't want to shout anymore and I didn't need to do anything silly. I had a headache of epic proportions and I needed a "time out."

Is this what parenting is like?

I felt like a monster for letting my temper get the best of me. When I got back the classroom, they acted a little more civilized and wanted to cooperate. In the end, I got what I wanted, but I felt terrible in the process. But these kids. . .
The majority of the students in my school are girls who are incredibly beautiful, but incredibly dumb or unmotivated or self-absorbed. I blame this on a lot of things: for one, it's their age, of course. I can't say I was all that motivated when I was sixteen, but I at least did my work. Another thing, is the commercialized pop culture that they live in, where everything revolves around clothes, makeup, hair, music, and boys. Not necessarily in that order.

The sad things is, if they don't make it in this vocational school, there's no way they are headed to college. For many this is the last stop in school anyway. Maybe I wasn't too far off when I said I didn't want them to end up in the sex industry. Because if they don't get their shit together, that is certainly where their beauty is going to lead them.

If I had it my way, they'd all become flight attendants, bankers, tour guides, hotel managers, and restaurant hostesses. That's what I'd like to see from them. But the reality is, and believe it or not, it just came to me: Students have to want it for themselves. That's the most disheartening part. I could shout at them til I'm blue in the face, but it won't help. Those who just aren't into school, just aren't. I have to remind myself to focus on the ones that are. That's just one more control issue, I have to let go of. Not everyone wants to be here; not all of them can be saved. I have to give my all to those who can be.

In the Heat of the Night

I'm so angry right now and I only have the heat of my bedroom fueling my rage. My air conditioning quit on me two nights ago and I'm stuck with another hot night in Bangkok. It wouldn't be so bad if my bedroom weren't on the top floor and it wasn't facing the sun everyday. I probably wouldn't be so angry if I weren't dealing with the laid back "get it done later" attitude of my school.

Mai pen rai.

I'm so past the point of "no worries" right now, I don't know what to do.

The technician that works for the school, came to my house to look at it and the conclusion was that I would need a whole new unit. There's no telling how long that will take. "Maybe tomorrow." Both of us, sweating, stare at the broken air conditioner. Him thinking that he needed to get out here, it was far too hot. Me thinking that I'm going to pull the thing out of my wall and cast it over my balcony. I might toss him right behind it.

After he broke the news to me, I calmly walked him out of my house, saying thank you as I did it, because I'm not that rude. I shut the door behind him, calmly walked back upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind me. . . and let out a blood curling scream about three times before I collapsed to the bed sobbing for relief and mercy.

Okay, so maybe I'm over reacting. But this is one those things that I'm still having a hard time with. The language barrier, yeah, of course, but there's also a conflict of attitude here. I have an attitude of "get it done YESTERDAY!" that clashes with the Thai. In the end, I always leave the table unsatisfied and frustrated. At school, the British teacher, Roger, jokes, "Did you fill out a request form for a request form yet?" Yes, it's almost that redundant.

The issue I have is that this shouldn't have happened in the first place. The air con was old as hell and everyone on the block knew it. It literally was the loudest machine on the street! Every time I turned it on, people knew I was home. It should have been replaced long ago. In fact, a technician did come out my first week here to look at it before I realized there was a problem, before I realized that it shouldn't sound like a lawn mower every time I turn it on. Why wasn't it replaced then? The same thing happened to Andy, the last American resident of this house. Only he had it worst, it was his water that got cut off and the school didn't get around to fixing until three or four days later!

Sigh. Mai pen rai.
mai pen rai
mai pen rai
mai pen. . . rai.

I think I'm okay now. I think I'll be okay. I will wait for tomorrow and see what comes. Thank you for listening to that rant. Sorry I've tainted the blog with such negativity, but I think this counts for one of those Thai experiences to remember, eh?

Before I go, I shouldn't let another moment pass without giving a shot out to my husband, newly doctored and all. I know I told him a million times that I'm super proud of him, but I don't really think it can be said quite enough. "I'm proud of you, Dr. Babe."

Roadside Dining

She was his ward but
his attention was on a chess game
As she peppered the boy's back
with tiny fists,
he ignored her
focusing on being a little man
They slammed pieces roughly,
traded insults and talked of honor
He was only twelve or so but
laughed at the jokes that
should have gone over his head

The scene was the past
and I was the boy
and it was my younger sister
that fussed
that pushed and prodded me,
wanting me to return the favor
Our ages cursed us.
In the beginning, I tried to lose her
and couldn't---she made me tired
She resented my desire for privacy
and her instant maturity
Years later, it became apparent
that she no longer needed me
I resented her privacy and her maturity
and how she acquired them so early

I returned to watch a brother
turn his back on a girl
starved for attention
I silently begged him to turn back
before it was too late
I soon lost my appetite.

Birthday Weekend July 24-26

Sorry for the limited posts this month. Even though I only had about fourteen real teaching days, I still managed to be super busy. But today is Sunday, a wind down kind of day. I just finished doing a massive load of laundry and now I'm listening to Hall and Oates in a really hot bedroom. If I turn on the air con, though, I might wear it out before night time comes. That's when I really need it. Hall and Oates are complaining about a woman that's gone and I realize that I need to get out of the house. So, I'm leaving after I write this.

This year's birthday was so awesome because I spent it in a pretty awesome city, abroad. Also, it landed on a Friday. Celebration bled well into Saturday and today too, I guess. Who's going to stop me from making it a three day festival? Here are some photos:

My 3/6 Tourism students surprised me with a cake and sang "Happy Birthday" to me. It was the best English I'd ever heard out of them. Their thoughtfulness made me a little tearful. They were upset by this. "Teacha! Don't cry!" The students had reports due that day. They didn't do them. Mmh.


That's my badminton friend Nut sitting next to me. He's got the responsibility of teaching all of these new Chinese students Thai. They're all really lovely and enthusiastic about learning though. They also sang "Happy Birthday" This led to believe that this song was obviously universally know. Friday was also my scheduled cooking lesson with Nut in the cafeteria. We learned how to green curry. The girls and I sampled more than we took notes.



Friday night! These are Dave's three friends(Sarah, Lauren, and Jenny), who just flew in from England that day. They were lovely enough to come out to help celebrate. My other friends Grace and Lynda joined in as well a little later. Our first stop was Mulligans' Irish Pub.

Grace and Lynda impressed? Maybe.

That was an extremely long night and it will be a long time before I have another. But it was really enjoyable and something to remember forever.

The next day, Saturday, was more mellow but equally fun. I met my friend Cindy at the largest and most elegant mall in the world. One could go to a Coach store, walk out of that and into a Prada store, and then into a Gucci store. Would that person buy anything? Maybe not, but this is where the more affluent Thai and rich tourists shop. On one floor you can buy a Lamborghini!

Cindy introduced me to the biggest English bookstore I'd seen in Bangkok so far. It was so exciting to sit and browse things in English! I'm definitely going back because there was a coffee shop to sit at and read too. It really reminded me sitting at Borders with Noah.

After that, we went to our friend Bo's place where he and Pak had a lovely lunch waiting for us. It was just supposed to be a birthday tea time, but when I wasn't paying attention, Pak came out of the kitchen with a cake! It was sooo nice! Here's a look at it, it says Happy Birthday Miss Gra-tai, Thailand 2009, I think.

So that was the weekend. It has started raining right now and the clothes I just hung out to dry are getting a bit wet. I'm going to have to let you all go rescue my underwear before it flys off my balconey and then go get something to eat. But I will try to get back with you regularly, okay?

NONE SHALL PASS

If I were a sadist, chalking my house would hours of fun. It STOPS ant in their tracks and apparently roaches too, according to the picture. This is the chalk:


I heard about the chalk from my American friend Cindy. Chalk you say? I had to see this to believe it. Trying it out tonight, I'm a believer. I followed a trail that led from my bathroom door and drew a curved line around it, cutting the ants off.


I don't know if you can see this, but there's my finger. My chipped nail polish (Hot hot Chocolate). Beside my finger is a small black dot. That's an ant. Beside the ant is a faint white line. That's the chalk. This ant cannot get past the line. IT WORKS!!! I'm going to have to cut this post short and run downstairs. The roaches don't know it, but there's a new sheriff in town. She's wielding heavy duty weaponry.

Weekend in photos

Before I leave in the morning. . . my huuurr looks cute.

This is plan, on a notecard!

Dave in Jim Thompson's Garden

I'm at Jim's

That's an order!

Museum garden

Museum bridge

Lumpini Park

Erawan Shrine

Dave and I at the restaurant

On Thai Fashion

My mother always said, "Just because they make it in your size, doesn't mean you should buy it." That's why it is imperative that you try on clothes first! These pants are kind of the rage with young Thai women. While they look quirky and cool on them, they look kind of ridiculous on me.

That's one thing I must get used to, getting out-dressed by almost all of the women here. Their fashion sense is light years ahead of mine and some parts of Europe! I don't know where Bangkok got it from, maybe it's a mix of British, Japanese, and Korean style with a dash of American 80's flair. But I do know that the women around here don't play.

Let's further illustrate the ridiculousness of these pants.

Getting Cupped in Bangkok

Disclaimer: Before all of my former Coffeehounders start hounding me about my association with Starbucks, know that I only frequent the mass market coffee peddler because I'm desperately seeking solace in real coffee and I take it where ever I can get it. You may not realize it, but Thailand runs strictly on Nescafe. And that is not going to do the trick for me. M'kay?

So I'm getting pretty friendly with the kids of Starbucks. We've gotten to the familiar point where they've started calling me by my nickname, "Gra-tai," as soon as I hit the entrance. They know my order pretty well too: Heated almond cream croissant and medium black coffee. They're such lovely people!

This evening, while nursed my coffee and croissant, a worker with a name tag that read: "Hi my name is Ray!" promptly sat down at my table. With him, he brought a French press and two small espresso cups.

"Hello! I give you coffee tasting demonstration right now."

I was frightened by his stealth. As I lowered my mug from my lips, I supressed my confused utterances and just watched as Ray opened his package of Kenya brew. Okay. . . This young man, without preamble, was about to do a cupping demo at my table without my go ahead.

"You're doing a cupping?"

He looked delightfully surprised that I knew what was going on, as if hijacking my time would be his special secret only. "Yes! cup-Ping!" When the Thai say certain two syllable words, there's usually an rising emphasis on the last syllable. Ex: shop-Ping! pret-Ty! no-Ah!
"I will show you how to taste cof-Fee!"

I couldn't help but grin. "I worked at a coffee shop in America, you know?"

He nodded. "Okay, okay." But he tried to one-up me with: "But I teach you Thai too. I teach you how to say coffee things in Thai, okay?"

A cupping and a Thai lesson? The latter sounded more interesting, but traveling beggars can't be traveling choosers. "Okay."

"First we pour cof-Fee in press," he spooned the grounds in. "Hot water, next." He said something in Celsius, but I'm American, I don't need to know the metric system. He pressed the clip-on timer. "Now we wait four minutes."

"Okay."

"I teach you Thai, now."

"Okay."

Ray pointed to my already full coffee mug. "Cof-Fee in Thai is 'gafe.' Repeat."
"Gafe."
"Cup in Thai is 'kow.'
"Kow. Wait a second, isn't that the word for rice?"
"That's kow," Ray corrected in a mildly different tone that my ears couldn't pick up on.
"Kow?"
"Kow."
"Kow?"
"Kow."
"Okay. . ."
"Hot water in Thai is, nam row." It could have easily been nam low, with the Thai pronouncing "l" as "r", I can never be too sure.
"Nam row."
"Cold water in Thai is, nam yen."
"Nam yen."
"Very good! You speak good Thai!" Ray was thoroughly impressed with my repetition. "Where are you from?"
"America."
"Ahhh, where in America?"
I find that I can't very well say Illinois to the people here. No one knows about Illinois, hell, people in New York don't know about Illinois. I have to say Chicago. And sometimes that doesn't even do it. I could see the confusion in Ray's face. "It's where Obama is from," I clarified.
"Ahhhh, yes. Oba-Ma!" He looked down at his timer. "Okay, now we are ready."

Let the cupping begin! Ray slowly pushed down the press and poured two servings of Kenya Blend for the both of us. "Don't drink!" Ray said as I picked up my coffee. "You smell first."

I smiled. I knew my way around a cupping, but I went ahead and humored him by smelling intensely. We both smelled and nodded appreciatively. "Smells good?" Ray asked.

"Mm-hmm."

He went on to describe the fruitiness that I should be smelling. "Now you watch me taste, okay?" Ray took a long noisy sip and smacked his lips together. He stared out into space with a wistful expression. For a moment, I was by myself at the table. Then he shook himself from his reverie. "Okay, now you try."

I slurped too, just like I was taught at home by Steve and Anna, my Coffeehound bosses. I couldn't believe I was doing off-duty, out of town, out of country cupping for no reason. The location might be embarrassing, but I know they are proud of the knowledge that I took abroad.

"Taste good?"

"Yes, it's slightly acidic and maybe a little full bodied, but it's got an interesting fruit finish."

Ray nodded. "Yes," he said gravely. "I agree."

Ray stood abruptly and began clearing his things. "You may go back to reading," he told me. "Thank you for tasting cof-Fee, Gra-tai. Please drink the rest of this," he said gesturing to the nearly full French Press. I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I was already jacked up on a caffeine high.

"Thank you, Ray."

"You will learn Thai very fast," he said thoughtfully. "Keep practicing."

"Okay, Ray."

And just as fast as he blew in, Ray disappeared, leaving me with an ample amount of coffee.

A Close Shave

Chili Aroma Hot Balm--- a greasy balm that smells a lot like Bengay and Tiger Balm, it's warning label says "Caution: Extremely hot! Use small amount in test area." It also said that it was a heating balm for soothing sore muscles and joints. Score!

When I bought this balm at the organic Thai products store in the mall, I thought for sure I was getting a great deal. No more would I come home from school with aching muscles nor would have to limp to and from the bathroom in pain. Standing around in high heels might be cute as hell, but it's certainly hell on my ankles and knees.

When I took it home and tried a "small test area" on my ankle. I felt nothing. Dammit, what a scam! Extremely hot? I've never encountered such an indifferent balm in my life! But interestingly enough, I accidentally wiped some on a mosquito bite and felt instant cooling relief. Okay, not so indifferent, but cooling. The balm was not a total loss.
That was a couple weeks ago.

Today, I'm struggling with about eight mosquito bites on both arms. The itching is driving me mad and I'm doing all I can not to scratch, scratch, scratch. So as soon as I got home, I jumped in the shower and loofahed vigorously. Hey, it's better than fingernails, right? While I was at it, I did a quick underarm shave too. A little too much information? Ha! You've come this far with me, stick around a little while longer.

After I'd wash the day's dirt and grime off, I applied the "not-hot-chili" balm on my arms liberally. Ahh, cooling.

The point where this story takes a wrong turn is during my motorbike ride to the mall later in the day. In the heat and the humidity the chili oils from the balm started to run. The burning that the label warned me about was stinging my freshly shaved armpits like a hornet attack. And all of this took place while I was speeding through alley ways on the back of a motorbike.

I tried to bite my tongue and hold back a howl, it came out in a sharp hiss. "ahhhh!" I whispered as quietly as I could.

"A lai-nah?" What? asked the motorbike driver.

"Nothing, nothing," I told him. How do you say burning armpits in Thai? On the verge of tears, I attempted to raise my arms above my head and let the wind air them out. Oh god, please don't let me fall off the motorbike and in the middle of traffic because of "not-hot-but-yeah-kinda-chili" balm. Don't let me go out like that.

Without looking too noticeable, I pretended to scratch my head, then I pretended to stretch both arms. But my timing was poor and I hit a hanging tree branch. "Shit!" I shouted and the motorbike skidded to a stop.

My driver turned to me and said something with a concerned tone. I shook my hand and smiled. I wasn't hurt, just thoroughly embarrassed. "Kor toht, ka," I apologized. "I'm fine, I'm fine." I motioned for him to continue driving.

When I got to the mall I ran straight for the restroom and washed my arms of the balm and received some curious looks. No matter, though, I was just glad to rid myself of the burning. What spells relief? Definitely not Chili Aroma Hot Balm. That's what I get for abusing a product with bad syntax. From now on, I will stick with the "small test area."

Boom De Ya Da

I love it whenever it starts raining. The rain in Bangkok not only cools things off, but it's the most comforting sound in my neighborhood. I was scrolling around Youtube looking for something to watch when I found this, brought to us by the Discovery channel. I think it perfectly describes how I feel at the moment.




It might sound corny or a little kitschy, but this makes me stop and remember that the world is awesome. At a time when I really miss everyone, it also makes me remember how small the world really is.

Surprised that was only 40 baht. . .

It was Saturday afternoon when I walked down my gravelly street and hailed a motorbike. What I've learned while living out here, is that you don't hail vehicles (motorbikes, tuk tuks, cabs) like a New Yorker. When I hailed my first cab in Bangkok, I stood in full view of everyone on the street, and tossed my hand up in the air. It works just the same as anything else would, but it lacks the grace that the Thai have. The motion is almost coy. You hold your hand out as if you're trying to take the hand of a small child who is lagging behind you while walking down the street.

When my motorbike man came, I got my map out. I smiled and greeted him. "Pin klao Pier," I said and pointed to the map. We both looked at my finger.

"Pin klao."
"Chai" Yes. "Pin klao."
"Central?"
That's the shopping center that's located near my neighborhood. It's not where I needed to be.
"Mai Chai." No. "Pier. Pin klao Pier. I want a boat to take me," I made a snaking motion with my arm, "down river."
"Okay, okay," said the motorbike man with an air of impatience.

I climbed on and we took off. As we rode past my school, I put my earbuds in and turned on my music.
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am; stuck in the middle with you. . .
And then we pulled over.
Just before the busy streets and highways of Bangkok, there's a 7-11 that I frequent, it's also a place for the motorbike taxis to wait for patrons. Why are we stopping?

So my driver could converse with a group of other drivers. He jerked a thumb back at me said something to the men. I knew that was my signal to pull out the map and explain myself again. I used buzzwords like: boat, pier, river, Pin klao. I made the same snaking motion, I pretend to paddle as if I were in a canoe--- It was a game of foreign language charades.

One of the drivers understood and made it clear to the others in Thai, "This feckless young woman in search of a boat, to take her downriver. You should take her to the Pin klao Pier." I'm guessing that's what he said.

And we're back on the road!

Only for a few more yards though. Traffic was absolutely awful for two in the evening. Very quickly, my driver grew impatient with sitting. As we wove around cars and buses, getting stopped every 5 seconds, I listened to the Beastie Boys and tried not to mind the fact that my driver was insistent on driving a little recklessly. I tried not to count the near misses we had with buses. I even fought the urge to tighten my helmet. Just be cool and listen to the white rappers from Queens. They are "guaranteed to my your body rock."

Fair enough.

There was a clear opening in the traffic and my driver took it, and just as it seemed like we were rising above the fray, we were stuck yet again. This time, indefinitely. We were immediately boxed in by the median, a bus and two cars, in the front and the back. My driver's shoulders sagged.

I couldn't help but think that my trip to the pier was ruining his life. What started out with the assumption that he'd take a farang girl to the mall, was probably going to turn into him charging this same farang girl sixty more baht for fare.

Finally, the light changed. Traffic lights here in Bangkok have timers on them that can be seen by drivers and pedestrians alike. It's not unusual to watch a red light count down from two minutes and forty seconds. You try not to look at them after awhile. As we took off, we covered some serious ground, going at top speeds, narrowly missing other vehicles and I felt alive. By that time, I was listening to Paul Okenfold's Ready Steady Go! It happens to be my favorite song to listen to while riding at high speeds on a motorbike ride. You can hear it in the Bourne Identity during the awesome car chase scene.

Until we hit another red light, I kinda thought this was turning into an alright excursion out of the house. My driver mumbled something under his breath. I switched songs. I hit a slow Red Hot Chili Peppers ballad and had to turn again. I wasn't in the mood. Another timer was lit in red and I tried not to stare.

By the time my driver got be the pier, I was more than a little anxious. For all of that time he spent with me would he stick to the flat rate that I was accustom to? Or would he try to milk me for more cash? And if so, what could I possibly do about it? Huh? Argue with him?

You don't argue with people, Charish. I thought to myself. You avoid confrontation with service workers so as not to let them think you're the capitalist "Man" trying to "keep them down." As I got off the bike and handed him his helmet back, I smiled and thanked him in Thai. I tried to keep the air clear of thoughts that suggested he did a terrible job of avoiding the traffic. Could I have done a better job? Of course not, it was no one's fault.

"Tow rai?" I asked. How much?
"See sip et," he told me. 40.

Okay. awesome.

I am pleasantly surprised by the Thai's patience and kindness everyday that I interact with them. It makes me feel guilty that I have doubts or suspicions that creep up every once in awhile. Part of it is out of caution. I am, after all, a female traveling alone most of the time. But it's also because I'm just not used to honest people where ever I go. I certainly not used to people wanting to help you out for no reason in the states.

Let's not kids ourselves, there are scams here just like anywhere else, but on the whole, the Thai are some of the most thoughtful and helpful people I've ever lived amongst. I shouldn't have been terribly surprised that my driver didn't stiff me. I gladly paid him for all his trouble, thanked him again and went on my way with the knowledge that I didn't have to be cynical when it came to humanity in the world.