Mandatory Haircuts

At my school, Takpittiyakhom (TPS), there is a mandatory haircut policy. All students must wear their hair according to the standards agreed upon by the faculty and parents of students at TPS. These standards are based in military tradition, and were once practiced nation-wide with very little exception. Boys wear their hair buzzed on the sides, allowing a small tuft on top, and girls wear their hair within two fingers of ear length. Recently, laws have relaxed and especially at the schools in big cities students have been granted more freedom with their hair. Small towns like Tak tend to follow the conventional way, and diligently enforce that custom.

At the morning assembly teachers will weave in and out of the rows of students scouting for non-compliance. Any student caught with hair too long has chunks sheared off, right at the assembly in front of their peers. Clever students have learned that tardiness and absence from the morning assembly allows them to stay clear of the head hunters. Some of the TPS truants can be identified by their shaggier domes, but very little head hunting is done after the morning assembly. However, now that students are taking their final exams, and an official policy of TPS is that students need their school haircut to sit for exams, the head hunters have initiated full search mode. The mandatory haircut enforcers at TPS have actually been walking through exam rooms measuring students’ hair lengths and, if a student does not have their hair styled appropriately, cutting locks then and there.

I’m really not sure what to make of the situation. It is customary to have school uniforms in Thailand, including conventional haircuts, though it is no longer a national law as it once was. According to my co-teachers, although the old practice of military style hair is no longer enforced, parents of TPS students widely agreed to continue the tradition. They place an importance on legacy, school pride, and discipline. My hang-up is that strict following of the rules apparently trumps the promotion of learning or independence. It seems counter-productive to pull students out of their exams in order to hack off rogue hair, which tends to have the nasty habit of growing outside of the students’ control.

To make matters worse, the boys will not receive a full trim when they are spotted by a head hunter. The vigilante barber only slices 4 or 5 chunks of hair, leaving the boy to find a barber-for-hire to finish the job. Since they never wanted the haircut to begin with, many TPS boys will come to school the next day without having finished the job. They walk around campus the rest of the week resembling a haggardly carved jack-o-lantern.

Tradition, camaraderie, national pride, school identity, and discipline are all traits that I can see manifested by mandatory haircuts. Continuance of tradition and national identity are far more important in Thai culture than in American culture. I would be insensitive and ethnocentric to state that mandatory haircuts are no good. Therefore, I am not saying that. Instead, I am saying that taking students out of final exams in order to enforce that policy can’t be the best solution.

At least the students are keeping in good spirits about it. Mai Pen Rai, as always.

Conformity/Camaraderie in Thai Schools

The official tagline for my school is “Takpittayakhom School. A world class standard school”. This line is in reference to Takpittayakhom (TPS) meeting the standards set out by the Thai government for a top-tier secondary education school. Criteria such as test scores, specialty programs offered, facility and faculty size, and so on. However, whenever I see the sign proudly displaying that logo at the front of my school I can’t help but think of the second definition of the word standard; to be normal, average, to not stick out. There is a certain structure in place at TPS, and in fact many Thai schools, that values cohesion and convention over individuality and distinctiveness. I do not mean to offer up Thai students as dull or lifeless. Each student does have their own personality, like any kid. The difference is only noticeable when groups of Thai students are together. While grouped, my students demonstrate a special camaraderie that does not set one student apart from the others.

The most striking examples are the student uniform and required haircuts. All boys must have a military style buzz cut, and all girls must have their hair cut to ear-level. A few exceptions are made for girls who take part in traditional Thai dances, but the vast majority of girls at TPS have the same bucket haircut. Obviously it is tough to stand out when all of your friends wear their hair and clothes identical to you, so instead the students seem to embrace their uniformity. Long after school hours, when I pass by my students roaming the night markets with their friends, most of the group will still be wearing their school issued shirt and pants. Never minding the fact that they sweated all day in non air-conditioned classrooms, I had thought my students would want to wear new clothes to show off some fashion in the evenings. Instead I see my students voluntarily wearing uniforms at nighttime which are mandatory during the daytime. I also see students from other schools in our town walking around the market in their respective uniforms. It’s easy to spot students from other schools based on the color or style of their uniform. I now realize the cohesion amongst students that attend the same school influences their outfit decision. Students have pride and want to be seen as a pack, much like sports fans wear jerseys displaying their team colors. My students don’t rush home after school and rip their uniforms off before the front door closes behind them. Rather, they hang around school after hours, breaking off into small groups to head off to the market or grab some dinner, still in their school uniforms because they are still students. They like to be easily identified and affiliated with their own schools.

 

After school soccer games are still played in uniform, with athletic pants.

 

Another example of Thai student group-think is evident when I pose a difficult question in the classroom. My English classes are listening and speaking focused so the majority of class time is spent engaging students in English conversation. It is sometimes necessary for me to ask a single student a question in front of the whole class. To explain a new topic I’ll ask a student a question which they already know how to answer. I will then follow up with a new question expanding on the previously learned vocabulary.

For example:

Me: “What is your nickname?

Student: “My nickname is Earth”

Me: “What city do you live in?”

Student: “I live in Tak”

Me: “How long have you lived in Tak?”

Student: ……

Before asking the question, I know that the student will not immediately understand how to answer. I attempt to pose questions that the students can figure out given a few moments of critical thought. Unfortunately, the instant a student does not understand the question I have asked, they break into team huddle with their friends. Five or six students will form a circle leaning over their desks debating in fast, furious Thai the meaning of my words. Their confused and anxious faces will bounce off each other until it is determined if one student in the group has any grasp of the concept. They don’t mind if this process takes 10 minutes of deliberation. When this happens I have to intervene. I tap the original student on the shoulder and ask him the same question. How long have you lived in Tak? He will give me an uncomfortable smile, then turn his head back into the team huddle. Finally, by group consensus, one student will tell me “Teacher, don’t know”, though the original student might not even be the one responding.

 

In the first few months of teaching I was annoyed by this behavior. I felt like the students were cheating, not willing to learn something for themselves. It was a shock to me coming from the America, where there is a clearly defined asker and askee. Now I have come to view this method of answering questions not as cheating, but as team oriented. It is not that they are unable to think for themselves, but instead prefer thinking together.

As stated, Thai students feel a strong sense of solidarity. Classes at TPS do not break off to different courses throughout the day. They travel with the same group for each and every subject. Since the students stay in the same collection for every class of every day, their attitude is we are in this together. When I ask a student a question, I am actually challenging the entire class that question. A team challenge requires a team effort, so naturally the students put their heads together to solve the problem at hand. Team affiliation doesn’t stop after school hours, so students have no qualms remaining in uniform. They are publicly displaying their collective spirit. Two minds are greater than one, and one team is greater than many teammates.

 

Mindset at 9 months abroad

Today I reach a significant milestone on my journey abroad. It is exactly nine months ago that I left for Thailand. I originally intended to stay for half a year, yet here I am still. In another month I will be comfortable with referring to my total time spent in Thailand as “almost a year.”

 

Reaching my nine month mark obviously opens the door for pregnancy jokes. If I had gotten a girl pregnant right when I departed the US I could have been a father, and so on. Thankfully I am still single and childless after one typical gestational period. The only new addition to my life, and I guess you could call her my baby, is my motorbike. I have recently rented a flame paneled, automatic transmission, lady-magnet, Yamaha Fino.

Motorbikes are possibly more common than 4-wheeled vehicles here in Thailand, so I consider my rental of a motorbike further assimilation into the local culture. I won’t blend in with my community, I’m taller and paler than anyone for 50 miles, but at least I go with the flow. The first few times I rented a motorbike I was giddy with excitement, like a kid who goes golfing with his father only because he wants to drive the golfcart. I rented a motorbike in the usual tourist areas (Chiang Mai, Koh Phangan, etc) and drove around spotting jungles and waterfalls. Now the excitement has worn off considerably, since I drive my motorbike to school or to go pick up tooth paste from the grocery store.

 

Personalized floor-mat. Doraemon is kind of a big deal here.

Before leaving for Thailand I read hundreds of websites and articles about the transitional phases of living abroad. I was obnoxiously excited about my upcoming adventure, so I wanted to read as much literature as possible. Those who had lived abroad and wrote about their experiences mentioned three phases; the honeymoon, the culture shock, and complacency.

 

The honeymoon phase lasts for one or two weeks and comprises your first experiences in a new country. Everything is foreign and exotic, so your senses become hyper-aware and your adrenaline runs on overtime. Because of their novelty, the surrounding sights, sounds, and smells appear all the more beautiful. Witnessing an entire lane devoted to motorbike traffic seemed hip and modern the first time I came across one in Bangkok. Gas friendly vehicles, perfectly suited to zipping through tight alleys and streets, stood out during my Thai-honeymoon phase.

 

Culture shock arrives a few weeks to one month of living in a new place. The fresh eyes you had when landing in a country are gone, and you have spent enough time to discover some aspects you don’t like. Poorly maintained roads, little to non-existent cleanliness standards, and the inability to communicate are all aspects that wear on you. The dirty little secrets every country has and doesn’t advertise become more conspicuous when you have settled into a new location. At this point I was annoyed with the lack of traffic laws concerning motorbikes on the road. This is typically when people will feel their strongest homesick days.

 

And finally complacency is what is left when the culture shock wears off. Witnessing a family of four riding a single motorbike is not hilariously foreign, like in the honeymoon phase, nor appallingly dangerous, like the culture shock phase. At this point you know it’s simply the only available way your neighbors have to drive their kids to school.

I’ll admit, I am well into the complacency stage now. I don’t get excited from the sight of elephants, tuk-tuks or ancient ruins. I am used to daily cockroaches, rampant littering, and bits of bone in every piece of meat I eat. I am unfazed when I see 3 of my students riding on a single motorbike, moving in the opposite direction of traffic.

 

Renting a motorbike is perhaps the ultimate way to demonstrate my complacency in Thailand. I’m no longer weaving a motorbike in and out of traffic while speeding off to some jungle hot springs. Now I am running errands and scooting around like my fellow residents. I’m not over it, but I not longer am bursting at the seems with excitement.

Waii Kru, Respect to the Teachers

This gallery contains 17 photos.

Showing respect is a conscious daily effort in Thailand, and Eastern culture as a whole. Respect generally flows towards the elderly or people with a higher social role. You need to always be mindful of the way you say hello … Continue reading →

I peed there

 

When you gotta go, you gotta go. Some people are known for their ability to “hold it” a long time between restroom breaks, while others can set a timer to their urination tendency. Young boys are notorious for being frequent urinaters. For whatever reason, they have to pee a lot. Blame it on their tiny bladders, or proclivity to drinking soda pop, but they whiz with a frequency greater than any other age group. When I was little I could fill a gallon jug every 4 hours. Just like the little boy in the Adam Sandler movie Big Daddy, I couldn’t go more than 11 minutes without having to take a leak. This was problematic for the road trips my family took every few months. I was always halting our momentum on the highway, needing us to take a pit stop. Eventually my parents got sick of finding a rest stop or highway-side McDonalds every time I needed to water the flowers, so they resorted to pulling over on the side of the road for me. I can remember countless trips in the family mini-van when I had to ask my dad to pull over on the side of the highway, nature was calling. I would open the sliding door, use the mini-van as a shield from onlookers, and release. Then repeat the process 30 miles down the road.

Metaphorically holding my bladder

We would take a lot of road trips when I was younger, thus I did my business in many places. At some point my dad came up with the joke that I hadn’t officially traveled to a place until I had peed there.  If I had never dropped my trousers at a new destination, it was as if I had never been in that region. When our road trips crossed state lines, I wasn’t officially in that state until I had gone to the bathroom. “Welcome to Florida!” my Dad would shout out the mini-van door, while I was taking care of business. Whenever we flew to distant destinations I made sure to hunt down a restroom at any layover airports. Instead of a travel bucket list, I was checking places off my travel urinal list. Just as a dog claims his territory on every tree and fire hydrant, I marked my presence across North America. I peed in the troughs lining the men’s bathroom at old Tiger stadium in Detroit, I sprayed the grass alongside the Big Sur Coast Highway in California, and I wrote my name in the snow while overlooking the Saint Lawrence Seaway in eastern Quebec.

 

I actually maintain the same mentality to this day. These days I travel a lot further, and more often. I always try to stay at hostels in order to meet and spend time with fellow travelers. Inevitably, the question “Where have you been?” comes up. I always think back to my dad’s joke, that I can only tell the tale of the places I’ve relieved myself. I used a toilet while I was in Tokyo, but not while I was in Manila so I can’t mention that city.

It’s a silly habit, but all travelers have their quirks. Some backpackers take a “jumping” picture in front of landmarks, some travelers collect postcards from all their destinations, and some write blog entries recounting their impressions of worldly locations. As for me, when I list off the names of international landmarks and sights, I can always say I peed there.

Shoot the Breeze

Errand runs demand a bit more energy from me here in Thailand compared to back in the US. Any interaction besides pointing the items I wish to purchase usually relies heavily on body language. The rear inner tube on my bicycle developed a slow leak this past week. I put off going to the bicycle repair shop because it would mean interaction, aka charades, with the shop workers. After 4 days the tube could not even hold air for 20 seconds so a trip to the bike shop was inevitable. I would have to take my ride to the bicycle store and hand-gesture my need for a new inner tube. As I walked my unusable bike to the mechanic’s I planned the pantomimes that I could use to convey I need a new inner tube. Maybe I would grab my back wheel, say no good in Thai, then make a hissing noise. Or I could point at the tire, clap my hands together, and make an explosion sound with my mouth. One possibility was to point at my bike and then make a drooping motion with my hand, but I worried that might convey my bicycle was making me impotent.

Thankfully, none of the mimes ended up being necessary. I pushed my bike into the shop, pointed at the wheel, and the mechanic could instantly guess that a tire check was needed. He smiled, grabbed the bike from me, and luckily was not witness to a game of bicycle charades. I left my ride with the mechanic in the back garage and walked out front to browse the merchandise in the store. Bike helmets, reflectors, grips and other accoutrements lined the walls behind the register on one side of the store. The rest of the floor space was devoted to display bicycles, separated into road, mountain and hybrid sections. The entry level, lower quality bikes were nearest to the open garage door facing the street, while the sleek, sexy bikes were kept in the better guarded rear.

 

As I thumbed aimlessly through the multi-colored selection of brake pads, the cashier said hello to me.

“Sawatdee krap!” he said with excitement. Merchants tend to be excited when a farang is in their store.

I returned the hello and asked him how he was. He was well. So was I, thank you.

 

This is usually the extent of my conversational Thai. Sure, I sometimes will add jokingly “It’s hot” and fan my neck while sticking out my tongue. This gets a laugh from the Thais because farangs are always hot and sweaty. A Thai will be wearing denim jeans and a drawstring hoodie while sipping on chai tea, and I have sweat dripping down the back of my knees. Besides stating my discomfort with the temperature, or asking the price of whatever I am buying, I can’t continue small talk with vendors or cashiers. I hadn’t given it much thought until standing awkwardly in that bicycle shop, but then I realized it disappoints me. I can’t chew the fat or shoot the breeze with strangers here.

No, I had not noticed that the temperature is 105 ˚F

Back home if I were to browse a bicycle shop while my ride was being repaired, I would usually try to strike up a conversation with another customer or employee. Perhaps tell them where I intended to ride that weekend, ask them if they knew of fun rides nearby, even talk about the Detroit Tigers’ win record. In Thailand I do not have this option. I can tell someone hello, assure them I am doing well, despite my heat intolerance, and then just smile until it is time to pay. Any thought that pops into my head during the moment has to be saved for later when I am back amongst English speakers. The bicycle shop, 7-11, the grocery store, the liquor store, all the places I visit. I can only converse essential dialogue without the added touch of light humor or friendliness that marks casual interaction with strangers.

Sure, sometimes I will go out to the store and not be in the mood for chit chat. I just want to buy my jar of peanut butter so I can go home to eat it in solitude, not talk about the funny weather we’ve been having lately. However, those singular focus errand runs are the exception, not the norm.

I enjoy talking to strangers, from the person standing in line behind me, to the person ringing up my bill at the pharmacy. Small talk is concise, inconsequential, and pragmatic. Since small talk is typically limited to less than 10 minutes, conversational fluff is thrown out the window. You don’t need to ask their name, what they do for work, who they are dating, or what they think of the new neighborhood. Straight to the point, whatever is on either of your minds.

If I go to Walgreens at 11pm to buy Oreos, and the man standing behind me in line is buying a bag of gummy bears, I know I’ve found a 2 minute friend. I open with “Late night sweet tooth got you too, eh?” He doesn’t need to respond to my question with “Yes, and by the way my name is Robert, and I hail from Wisconsin.” A small talk response is more like “Yea, better than late night whiskey tooth, I suppose.” Which would be ironic, because I normally wash down my Oreos with whiskey. Or I only tell him that for a spot of humor. I’m only talking to the man for 3 minutes, who cares if I embellish?

At the end of September I will be done teaching English in Thailand, and it will be time to move on. My exact plans are unscripted. I know I will do some backpacking and am actually considering living in Australia for a while. Regardless, I will be back in a native English speaking country by next winter. One of the main things I am looking forward to is the ability to make small talk. The confidence that I can go out in public and strike up a conversation with anyone, rather than just tell them I am doing well, and yes, in fact, it is hot today. I can flap jaws with fellow pedestrians waiting to use a crosswalk. I can lament about the slow service at the postal office with my waiting line-mates, while joking that at least we aren’t standing at the DMV. I can joke with the 7-11 cashier while I buy Red Bull at 10pm on a Saturday night. I might tell him that I need energy to go shoot the breeze with women at the bar, which, coincidently, also involves a lot of body language.

T-shirt swap

A few weeks back I was lent a fixed gear bicycle from a friend of a friend. The bike I had previously been riding belonged to the school and had been passed from one teacher to another over the years. This meant the bike lacked proper care over its lifetime. The front inner tube needed to be refilled ever 48 hours, the handlebars needed tightening on a daily basis or else the bike was impossible to steer, and the rear tire rubbed against the frame with each revolution. I’m sure going to the bike shop could have solved most of the bike’s problems, but the fact that I was only using it temporarily removed any motivation for proper upkeep of the bicycle. Clearly I wasn’t the first rider of the bike with this mentality based on the bike’s condition. This bicycle had been pedaled by apathetic owners for years. So instead I huffed and puffed while struggling to ride this bicycle everyday.

 

One night I pedaled to a group dinner on my haggard ride and saw the rest of the group arrive on clean, new Giant and Trek bicycles. Two of the new people I met that night, Oy, and Bat, are very into cycling and had actually just finished a 30 kilometer ride. They wore cycling shorts, spoke limited English, and were otherwise very much like American bike riders. At dinner we got to talking about the bicycle I was using. Bat told me (through the help of a translator) that she had seen my bicycle ridden by 8 teachers prior to my using it. In her eyes the bike was deteriorating over the years and she was curious about how manageable it was to ride. She got on my bike, pedaled half a revolution, and made the face of a person listening to nails scratch down a chalkboard as the bicycle’s rear wheel squeaked along the frame. I had gotten used to the poor performance of the bike and so a slow, loud ride was now normal. After Oy rode the bike she told my English speaking friend about an extra bicycle that nobody in the group was using. It was a black and green fixed gear bike that somebody had switched out in favor of an even newer bike. That bike could be mine if I followed Oy to her house and swapped out my bicycle. Of course I was in favor of getting a new bike, so I followed Oy home and was thrilled when I first rode my new bicycle. For the rest of my time in Tak I get to cruise around on a speedy fixed gear, free of charge.

The friendliness and giving attitude of Thai people is one of the major reasons why I love this country. Thais will often go out of their way to help people, foreigners included. Several times a week I am reminded how different Thai and American cultures are, and generosity is one of the biggest differences I have come across. On two occasions, at different restaurants, I have been given a bunch of bananas from the cook. They just walk up, hand me some bananas, and continue on with their day. The act of giving is way more common and celebrated, at least from what I have seen. It would not be considered bizarre for Oy to let a stranger borrow her bicycle for an indefinite period of time. I am not saying that a similar situation would never happen in the US, but I know such generosity would be out of the ordinary. The fact that I live in a small town could also add to people’s level of trust. Since I am living in Thailand for a good chunk of time and trying to fit in with the culture, I thought that I should do my best to undertake the same mentality. That I should be very giving and generous. I should try going out of my way to help people, or be non-materialistic and sharing.

 

A week ago I traveled to Pai, in Northwestern Thailand with a few friends. Pai is a small backpacker and hippie-friendly town in a mountain valley. There is only one road accessing Pai, highway 1095. This highway connects Mae Hong Song and Chiang Mai, two major cities in the North of Thailand. Pai sits pretty much at the halfway point on highway 1095, and most people come for a visit via Chiang Mai. The two lane road from Chiang Mai to Pai is 122 kilometers long with 762 curves. Buying a ticket in a 12 passenger van is the most common way to get into Pai, but is not for the faint hearted or weak stomached. Drivers frequently drift between the two lanes rather than stick to their own, and drive fast enough to make you believe that only two tires must be touching the ground along sharp corners. Some people will actually have to make the drivers stop in order to vomit along the side of the road en route. Still, the rough road to Pai is worth the destination.

 

Pai is a basically 4 main roads creating a square with several interconnecting alleys. The roads are lined with tea shops, reggae bars, and guest houses. Food stalls and clothing carts line the streets every night. Like typical travelers to Pai, my friends and I rented motorbikes to explore the surrounding mountains during the daytime. There are waterfalls, valleys, and vistas to be seen from the back of a motorbike. Once the sun set we went out for a walk along the main road, stopping at various stores and carts looking at whatever trinkets or clothing the vendor was selling. I’m not a big shopper so I tend to wander aimlessly in markets. My most common market purchase is probably a cup of coffee or any kind of food. Still, it’s fun to get out and people watch or look for the occasional souvenir that catches my eye.

 

As I was in front a small, closet-sized store selling Pai t-shirts, stickers and bumper stickers I passed by a young Thai couple. The man smiled and pointed at me and said Sobleam! Sobleam! I have gotten used to not understanding what people shout at me, so I smiled and kept walking. As I passed by yet another t-shirt shop I suddenly realized what the man had been saying, Sublime. On that night I was wearing a t-shirt with one of my favorite band’s, Sublime’s, logo on the front. This was the first time that a Thai had recognized Sublime while I was wearing my shirt so I went back to speak to the couple.

 

The woman knew enough English to communicate, and so she had to speak for her husband. She told me that her husband loved Sublime and wanted to buy my shirt. She asked how much money I wanted in order to part with the shirt. Initially I was skeptical of the couple, but then I started thinking more about my goal to be more generous like my Thai neighbors. The man’s interest in my shirt seemed genuine and he was clearly excited to see a shirt in front of his eyes rather than on the internet. I have yet to see a Sublime shirt in Thailand. However, I felt receiving money for my shirt wouldn’t count as an outgoing act of generosity. Instead I suggested to the man’s wife that we exchange. He and I could swap shirts rather than him buying mine.

 

When the wife translated my suggestion to my Sublime loving acquaintance, he accepted. He added that the shirt he was wearing was not worthy of trading and as an alternative he would give me a new shirt. I was caught up in the excitement of such a unique experience so I quickly agreed and picked out a new shirt from his friend’s clothing rack. I changed shirts right there in the small shop and handed over my old Sublime shirt to its new owner. The man and his wife thanked me several times, took a couple pictures (sadly, I didn’t have my camera on me at the time) and said goodbye. I walked away in my new purple shirt with Thai writing, happy about the exchange that had just taken place.

 

It was only later that night I realized that I did not entirely fulfill my goal of generosity. When Oy leant me her bicycle I did not reciprocate with an item to trade. Instead I happily accepted my new ride. When I traded t-shirts with the Thai man in Pai, I still walked away from the exchange wearing a new shirt. A more true act of generosity would have been to give the man the shirt off my back and bid him farewell. In my defense I will say that I was in a public place and walking around shirtless in Pai is more risqué than most Western cities. Added to that is the douchebag factor of walking around shirtless at night.

 

I still have yet to get a decisive translation of my new shirt. The font and phrasing have made it difficult for my Thai-speaking friends to give me an exact translation. The shirt mentions the town of Pai and love. The owner of the hostel I stayed at in Pai gave me my favorite translation. To him, my shirt read something along the lines of “Pai is a little love that goes a long way”. I like to think that my small act gave that man with a new shirt a long-lasting loving feeling. As Sublime said, “Loving is what I got”

The next morning, wearing my shirt in the hostel.

The road to Koh Chang, NYE 2013

Traveling in Thailand has its eases and difficulties. The bus and train systems can get you just about anywhere, all forms of transportation are cheap by western standards, and you can hire a tuk-tuk or taxi at any hour of the day. Some disadvantages are the lack of precise timetables, commonly selling more tickets than there are seats on a bus, and drivers who combine a passenger route with their own personal errand run. Getting to your final destination is almost certain, but the time frame is a gamble. I have found the best approach is to leave plenty of time for traveling, and have back-up plans.

This past weekend I traveled by bus (in addition to motorbike, pickup truck and boat ferry) to Koh Chang, an island in the south-east of Thailand. A big group of friends from teacher orientation that I hadn’t seen for a few months were spending new years on the island and I wanted to join. The majority of the group lives far closer to the island than me, so I knew I would spend the first half of my trip solo. No big deal, done it before. And I would do this trip again. Although the following recount appears long and irritating, I found the whole process to be a funny experience in traveling. My trip started on a Friday evening after I left work.

 

6:30pm- Rode my bicycle to the bus terminal in Tak and bought a 7pm bus ticket to Bangkok.

7:00pm- Waited at the bus terminal.

7:30pm- My bus arrived at the terminal. I made sure to be first in line since on a previous trip I had to stand in the aisle with my bag between my feet for the first hour.

7:45pm- My bus departed the bus terminal. We spent 15 minutes sitting on the bus watching the driver smoke cigarettes.

1:30am- My bus arrived at Mo Chit bus station in Bangkok. Before I could even place both feet down on the pavement I was offered taxi rides from 5 drivers pushing and shoving each other to be closest to the bus door.

1:31am- I hired a taxi to drive me to the train station.

1:40am- I found out the trains don’t start service until 6am. So much for that plan.

1:45am- I hired a motorbike to drive me to Khao San road. The 24 hour, budget backpacker hangout/party street.

1:50am- I had planned to meet my friend Mike at some point so I gave him a call. No point in looking for a place to sleep, beer is cheaper.

2:00am- Mike met me at a bar on Khao San road. We had nothing to occupy our time besides beer and pad thai.

5:45am- Mike and I finished our last beers and took a taxi to the airport. The airport is where we can hop on an “express” mini-bus to Koh Chang. Tickets are not sold until one hour before the scheduled mini-bus departure time. We wanted to take the first mini-bus route of the day, which the website listed as a 7:30am departure time. The website also suggested arriving early during the holiday season in case of long lines.

6:15am- At the mini-bus ticket counter, there is no line.

6:30am- We bought our mini-bus tickets and headed to a food court.

7:30am- We were informed that our bus would be leaving at 7:50am.

7:50am- We got on our bus. The website told me the bus would be a 9 passenger van, but we were sitting on a 70 passenger bus. This will not be an express route.

8:00am- Our bus left the airport in Bangkok.

11:00am- We stopped for lunch.

12:30pm- We stopped somewhere.

1:45pm- We stopped at another somewhere.

2:45pm- Our bus arrived at the pier on the mainland. The website told me our express mini-bus would drive directly onto the ferry, and then drop us off at our hostel. Instead, our driver opened the door and said “Get out”. We got out.

3:15pm- We boarded the ferry on foot, and it started its path across the sea to Koh Chang.

4:00pm- The ferry completed its 1 kilometer journey in a speedy 45 minutes, and we were finally on Koh Chang. However, the ferry took us to the north end of the island, and our friends were staying at the south end of the island. A backpacker region named Lonely Beach. One more taxi was needed.

4:02pm- We sat in the back of a songteau. It is a pickup truck with two bench seats in the back and rails to hold onto.

4:45pm- The songteau pulled over on the side of the road. The driver told us that our place was 100 meters up the road, and that we needed to walk the final portion.

5:00pm- We finished walking what felt curiously longer than 100 meters, and were finally at our hostel. I was met with a running hug from Laura, another one of my friends whom I haven’t seen in a few months. All was finally well.

 

After all of that, my holiday on the island went pretty straight-forward. Koh Chang had everything I expected from a tropical island.

I swam in the saltiest water I have ever tasted, with a salinity content so high that we didn’t need to use fins to stay afloat while snorkeling.

I slept one night on a wooden platform in the backroom of a bar/tattoo parlor. A thin pad had been set on the wood to soften it a bit. It was big enough for one person (provided they were shorter than 5’5”), but of course I had to share the space with my buddy Mike. We didn’t book a second night.

I stayed at a bamboo hostel/bar (all buildings are multi-purpose there) owned by a Thai hippie named Tom. He had a long grey beard, loved blues-rock, and drank whiskey with breakfast.

I went to a bar called Ting Tong, which has become my bit of nirvana in this world. Go to Koh Chang and you will agree.

I jumped a flaming jump rope on the beach. Since I received only a minor burn on my ankle I was considered lucky compared to most other jumpers.

I watched my friends get bamboo tattoos while their tattoo artist drank beer.

I rang in the New Year at a beach rave with great friends.

And on January 1^st, I did the whole trip in reverse to get back home.

Loy Krathong

Last week Thailand celebrated Loy Krathong festival. This is the festival you see on travel shows back home showing thousands of paper lanterns being released into the night sky. In addition to paper lanterns, people decorate coconut shells or woven banana leaves with candles and flowers, and float them down the river by the thousand. The combination of glowing lanterns filling the sky and a burning river current gives the night a cool, artsy feel. This festival lasts for 6 nights, culminating on the 12th full moon of the lunar calender.

I was able to get some background on the festival before it began, but describing a centuries old tradition in your second language is not an easy task for my Thai co-teachers. From what I understand it began hundreds of years ago as a tribute to the water spirit/deity. It purpose was to give thanks for our many needs and uses of water, and to make sure the spirits kept providing water for life. It also grew to include the lighting of krathongs, both the paper lanterns and the floating candle types. Each was meant to carry away negative thoughts or emotions, and free your spirit from its burden. These days it includes a parade, a night market and festival which is pretty much the same as a county fair in the US, in addition to a school competition.

A lot of people want to take pictures with me. Here is one of me and a family holding a krathong

Battle of the bands type stage in the street

The school competition is 4 nights of stage performances displaying Thai dances. Each school performs dances on stage for about 30 minutes. I have no idea what the criteria for placement is, but somehow at the end of the festival a winning school is announced. I thought this sounded cool and important for my school, so of course I had to go check it out. As I told the faculty at work I was going to the festival they asked if I would like to “Pay tribute on stage for Loy Krathong”. I had no clue what this meant, so naturally I said “Yes, absolutely”.

I figured I would be allowed to stand backstage, maybe hold some props up or something, but this was not the case. The day before our school was set to perform I was pulled out of my first period class five minutes into the lesson.

“Andrew, come we need you for practice”.

“Practice for what?”

“Practice for stage performance!”

I now had a feeling I was going to be a bit more involved in the school’s act.

I spent all of Wednesday rehearsing with other teachers our bit on stage. Nicole and Brandon, an American couple also teaching at my school, would be part of the performance as well. As we arrived in the gymnasium all three of us laughed at how little warning was given for this rehearsal, and how little regard was given to the teacher-less classrooms that day. I literally was told not to worry about teaching my classes, practicing my stage steps was more important on that Wednesday. What’s funny is that my Thai co-teacher was also involved in the performance. The students just had to take care of themselves that day. Must have been tough.

After school all the students and teachers involved in the competition went to the river stage for a final rehearsal. The stage in Tak is literally in the middle of a 100 meter wide river that flows through town. It is accessed by a small bridge on one side of the stage, so that between the front of the stage and the first row of the audience there lies a 20 meter stretch of water. While each school goes through their performance a few staff sit at the very front of the stage and release exactly 1000 burning Krathongs into the river. Each school also builds one enormous Krathong as the kickoff to the chain of candles. When a school finishes releasing 1000 burning Krathongs and concludes their stage performance, they let off fireworks to signify the end of their turn. It does seem hypocritical for a festival honoring the cleanliness and life-giving properties of water to include dumping a whole bunch of kerosene shells into the river, but hey it looks real cool.

On Thursday night all the teachers wore our matching shirts, which I think gave off way too much of a Hawaiian tourist look. We had our moves memorized and were ready to strut our stuff. But we were definitely overshadowed by the students. These kids had been practicing their dances for months, and on Thursday they spent several hours putting on make up and getting ready.

Dancers, cool outfits

More cool outfits

Hawaiian florals for the teachers

I don’t question the weird things here anymore

All in all, my Thai stage debut was minor. The school performance started with us teachers walking out in a straight line, bowing to the King’s picture, and then walking back off stage to make room for the students. The fun part was the grand finale during which all the students did a dance on stage and all the teachers lined up in back, a burning lantern in each hand.

Sadly, I don’t have any pictures of this. I can tell you that it was a moment I will never forget. I was holding two burning coconut shells, dancing on stage next to Brandon as both of us mouthed the words to a Thai song, while wearing a ridiculous outfit in front of hundreds. One of those moments that makes me laugh at how cool my life is here in Thailand. I was never told who actually won this competition. Mai Pen Rai

Mai Pen Rai

Well my first week of teaching is over. It was both challenging, and very easy. Challenging because of the obvious language barrier, my lack of previous teaching experience, and the damn heat (an everyday struggle). Easy because of the easy going attitude of the faculty, and the expectations placed on me (at least so far, I’m assuming more will be expected as I go on).

The school I work at is essentially a combined middle school and high school. A solid combination of young adolescents who have yet to learn the importance of daily showering, and high school seniors starting their awkward dating years. In Thailand primary school (grades 1-6) is called Prathom, while secondary school (grades 7-12) is called Mathayom. The grade numbers restart in Mathayom, so seventh grade is called M1, eighth grade is called M2, and so on. The grades are then further divided into levels based on students abilities and test scores. The most advanced students are in level 1 while slower students are in levels 8-11 ish, depending on the number of students at the school. For instance, a gifted 7th grader would be in M1/1 and a slower 10th grader could be in M3/9. I do not know exactly when or how the students are placed in their levels, but all the students seem to know their place very well. Its funny to think of how many American parents would lose their mind if students were numbered on their learning ability. Yet it is the accepted norm here in Thailand.

This semester I am teaching English listening and speaking for M1 and M4. I mostly have to get the students engaged in conversation and improve their pronunciation.

At first this sounded like a walk in the park; I go to class, talk to the students, have them talk to me and each other, and correct their mistakes. However, I am seeing now how different and difficult the classes are going to be. In my M4/1 class I can basically say whatever I want and the students will understand me. I am going to be teaching them larger words and more intricate parts of speech. In my M1/10 class the students are struggling with “Hi my name is___” To make matters worse, Thai students are deathly afraid of making a mistake in public. When I ask an individual student a question, something like “Where are you from?”, I mostly get a blank stare. The second time I ask the question they will turn and look at their friend, still silent. The third time I ask the question the students will start talking to each other in Thai and giggle. By the forth time I ask the question usually the student will say one word in English and go back to being silent. It is very frustrating, but I have to be calm and understand that learning a new language is very difficult, as evidenced by my inability to learn Thai. So far all I know how to say is “hello” and how to order a beer.

On a positive note, I will be given a lot of freedom with my teaching. I do have co-teachers in each class, but they have yet to provide any instruction. I have asked what the upcoming lessons should be about, or how I should put together a class period, and they just tell me to do whatever I want. There is no curriculum for me to follow, I just have to make up lessons. They want me to go with the flow, teach what I think the students need to know. When I found out I had to make up all of my own lesson plans at first I panicked. I thought there was no way for me to think up creative English lessons week after week. As I thought about it more I realized that I really only have to make two lesson plans (one for M1 and a second for M4) each week. I may have to tweek the lessons to match the level of the class, but really that is not a lot of work. And the best part, I just completely make it up! I could walk into class and start teaching the lyrics to a Red Hot Chili Peppers song for all they care! And to tell you the truth, I think I may just do that!

Mai pen rai is a widely popular phrase in Thailand. It means “don’t worry about it” or “no problem”. Basically it means Hakuna Matata. Thai people use it after someone makes a mistake, or when referring to situations where someone may get mad, upset, or worried. If you miss your bus, mai pen rai, another one will come in 15 minutes. The students don’t understand your lesson? Mai pen rai, the next class probably will. I have come to associate this phrase with Thai people as a whole. Most everyone is laid back and easy going, hence the lack of structure to my teaching position. Going forward with this whole “I’m going to move halfway across the world and teach a foreign language to kids I can’t understand” thing, my attitude is going to be mai pen rai.