In Thailand, the imagination is a Westerner’s worst enemy. While the fact is that my bedroom only inhabits a few little geckos and a small army of ants, my imagination tells me otherwise. For example, late at night, the wind will send a ripple through my thin blanket and I’ll imagine a hungry snake inching towards my head. Or my peripheral vision catches the flash of a tree limb’s shadow and I immediately conclude that a hairy spider is preparing for attack. Every sound is too close for comfort. Every shadow is evil and venomous. I am always something’s prey. Do I ever do anything about it? Do I ever close my windows or shake out the sheets before getting into bed? No. That would require effort. Instead of being proactive, I just lie there, paralyzed with fear. I might as well get used to it, eh?
When a friend of mine found a large furry spider in her room, my friend’s host mother handled the situation – quite literally – by simply smashing the spider with one bare hand. When another buddy’s face became home to millions of microscopic parasites, she was simply told to use a cream and tough it out. Dog bites, centipede bites, ant bites in areas where the sun don’t shine, swallowing handfuls of mosquitoes as your ride home at night… This is my life now.
When I went to visit my work site last month, I was casually informed that King Cobras are spotted slithering around the local villages on a regular basis. I can’t think of anything more terrifying than a King Cobra. If I make it through the next two years, if I get back home in one piece, I will greet those friendly Daddy Long-Legs and those harmless garden snakes back home with open arms.
In other news, today was a big day. We’ve reached the end of training and Peace Corps staff has given us our final evaluations. The question of ‘Are you gonna send me back home or not?’ has finally been answered. Fortunately, they’ve decided to keep me around for a while. I got a high score on my language proficiency test and I’m ready for action.
Now we have one week left to party with our new friends, to cut loose and relax, to make those final memories with our host families… We’ve all gotten so close. It’s going to be a difficult goodbye. I’ve already started downloading various romantic comedies to remedy my separation anxiety, but there’s just not enough quirky Meg Ryan monologues to compensate. I’ll be homesick for Texas, homesick for my training site, and sick-sick from all the intestinal parasites. At least if you don’t hear from me for a while, you’ll know why.
On a brighter note, I will conclude this post with a video. Sadly, I can't figure out how to embed the video, and I can't seem to get the link to be link-able. So you'll have to copy and paste. Sorry, folks. ---> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1siCw2r6EaU
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
The Emerald Triangle
Sites were announced yesterday and I couldn't be happier with my post assignment...
Drum roll, please.
The area where the borders of Thailand, Laos and Cambodia meet is promoted as the Emerald Triangle, in contrast to the Golden Triangle in the north of Thailand. The Emerald refers to the large intact monsoon forests there. This is where I'll be living for the next two years. The region is Thailand's Northeaster Province of Isaan and my district is called Ubon Ratchathani.
Aside from living near two borders and the Mekong River, I will also be living within a stone's throw of an international airport, a 7-11 convenience store, and a big shopping center.
The following tourist attractions are within a 50-mile radius. See below:
Drum roll, please.
The area where the borders of Thailand, Laos and Cambodia meet is promoted as the Emerald Triangle, in contrast to the Golden Triangle in the north of Thailand. The Emerald refers to the large intact monsoon forests there. This is where I'll be living for the next two years. The region is Thailand's Northeaster Province of Isaan and my district is called Ubon Ratchathani.
Aside from living near two borders and the Mekong River, I will also be living within a stone's throw of an international airport, a 7-11 convenience store, and a big shopping center.
The following tourist attractions are within a 50-mile radius. See below:
I won't visit my future home until this weekend, but Peace Corps staff has supplied me with the following photos from my village to hold me over.
Another supervisor:
The Senior Center in my village:
Below is the Subdistrict Administrative Organization. I will work here, for the most part.
They harvest mushrooms in my village:
I leave on Friday to check it all out in person. More photos to come, I'm sure.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Bowel Movements
I am no stranger to living with a family other than my own, but being a live-in nanny with an American family is nothing like living with a host family during Peace Corps training. There is the obvious challenge of speaking different languages and then there are endless cultural elements to consider… I’m not gonna lie, y’all. I expected this whole host-family living situation to be hell. However, I am actually comfortable. Hell, I’m downright happy here.
Nevertheless, my first taste of the Peace Corps experience has not been all sunshine and butterflies. My baggage was destroyed somewhere along the way from Detroit to Thailand. I lost a few items and had to spend one-third of my two-month stipend on new luggage. I’ve only just arrived and I’m already on an extra tight budget - a situation all too familiar. My additional complaints include the territorial dogs that chase me as I ride by on my bicycle; the pressure to eat a ridiculous amount of food while my host family watches, awaiting my reaction; and my inability to obtain enough sleep. I’d also like to emphasize my total lack of privacy. The lock on the bathroom door doesn’t work, so if my 4-year-old host-sister decides to burst in while I’m showering, I’m just gonna have to deal with it.
That’s just a brief summary, folks.
It must be said that I’m biking nine miles a day, on average. I will admit that this is nothing compared to some volunteers who bike much further distances and never complain. But I still feel like a bad-ass. (Pardon my French, Grandma Jo.) In any case, no one is losing weight. We’re all puttin’ on the pounds a little quicker than we’d like. As you can imagine, the food in Thailand is a-plenty and oh-so-good.
In other news, I can easily speak for every single one of my fellow trainees when I say that we’re all suffering from a severe case of ‘Brain Pain’. The amount of information a Peace Corps trainee is expected to learn within ten weeks is absolutely insane. We’re all amazed at our abilities to hang in there.
Among the volunteers, friendships are forming fast. Upon arrival, we quickly noted a few drinking spots to gather after our five o’clock release. Depending on travel distance between said drinking spot and our respective homes, we are granted roughly one hour of time to decompress before making curfew. In the midst of a two-beer consumption sprint, we exchange advice, reading material, and gossip. One trainee often comments on all the beautiful Thai women. Another enjoys intellectually stimulating topics like President Nixon or the implausibility of hyena domestication. The girls, including yours truly, often exchange shopping tips. But there is one topic that is always on the table, and that, my friends, is the subject of our bowel movements. This is a completely acceptable topic, regardless of gender or class.
Evenings with my host-family have become routine. I get home around night fall, settle in for dinner, and prepare for a language tutorial. (My ‘Paa’ insists that I be a fast learner of the Thai language.) By 7:30, I’m sent off to shower, study, and sleep. However, I rarely study. I’m usually watching one of the movies my brother loaded on my external hard drive before leaving Texas. (We’re talkin’ 900 gigs of entertainment media, guys. These movies aren’t gonna watch themselves…)
After my well-earned brain-drain, I spend nights with the windows open, listening to the crickets, frogs, and territorial dogs. I sleep sound under the safety of my mosquito net and with the necessary aid of an oscillating fan. The village is quiet by eight o’clock. I wake at 6 a.m. to rooster crows and village announcements screeching from nearby speakers that resemble giant megaphones. Sometimes, they play music that reminds me of 1920’s American croon-tunes and I pretend the megaphones are actually gramaphones.
Every day is absolutely nuts. I can’t believe this is my life. But the craziest bit so far was during my realization that I can actually do this. I mean, we’ve been here for 1 month. One. And somehow we’re already having long conversations in Thai. That’s bonkers! We’re making lifelong friendships with people that don’t speak a lick of English. These people actually like talking to us. They’re all so damn smiley and patient. It’s completely foreign - and delightful.
I don’t mean to sound cheesy, but the Thai spirit is infectious. A girl can get used to this real quick. Consider me one happy camper. Month numero uno has been a total success.
Stay tuned.
Nevertheless, my first taste of the Peace Corps experience has not been all sunshine and butterflies. My baggage was destroyed somewhere along the way from Detroit to Thailand. I lost a few items and had to spend one-third of my two-month stipend on new luggage. I’ve only just arrived and I’m already on an extra tight budget - a situation all too familiar. My additional complaints include the territorial dogs that chase me as I ride by on my bicycle; the pressure to eat a ridiculous amount of food while my host family watches, awaiting my reaction; and my inability to obtain enough sleep. I’d also like to emphasize my total lack of privacy. The lock on the bathroom door doesn’t work, so if my 4-year-old host-sister decides to burst in while I’m showering, I’m just gonna have to deal with it.
That’s just a brief summary, folks.
It must be said that I’m biking nine miles a day, on average. I will admit that this is nothing compared to some volunteers who bike much further distances and never complain. But I still feel like a bad-ass. (Pardon my French, Grandma Jo.) In any case, no one is losing weight. We’re all puttin’ on the pounds a little quicker than we’d like. As you can imagine, the food in Thailand is a-plenty and oh-so-good.
In other news, I can easily speak for every single one of my fellow trainees when I say that we’re all suffering from a severe case of ‘Brain Pain’. The amount of information a Peace Corps trainee is expected to learn within ten weeks is absolutely insane. We’re all amazed at our abilities to hang in there.
Among the volunteers, friendships are forming fast. Upon arrival, we quickly noted a few drinking spots to gather after our five o’clock release. Depending on travel distance between said drinking spot and our respective homes, we are granted roughly one hour of time to decompress before making curfew. In the midst of a two-beer consumption sprint, we exchange advice, reading material, and gossip. One trainee often comments on all the beautiful Thai women. Another enjoys intellectually stimulating topics like President Nixon or the implausibility of hyena domestication. The girls, including yours truly, often exchange shopping tips. But there is one topic that is always on the table, and that, my friends, is the subject of our bowel movements. This is a completely acceptable topic, regardless of gender or class.
Evenings with my host-family have become routine. I get home around night fall, settle in for dinner, and prepare for a language tutorial. (My ‘Paa’ insists that I be a fast learner of the Thai language.) By 7:30, I’m sent off to shower, study, and sleep. However, I rarely study. I’m usually watching one of the movies my brother loaded on my external hard drive before leaving Texas. (We’re talkin’ 900 gigs of entertainment media, guys. These movies aren’t gonna watch themselves…)
After my well-earned brain-drain, I spend nights with the windows open, listening to the crickets, frogs, and territorial dogs. I sleep sound under the safety of my mosquito net and with the necessary aid of an oscillating fan. The village is quiet by eight o’clock. I wake at 6 a.m. to rooster crows and village announcements screeching from nearby speakers that resemble giant megaphones. Sometimes, they play music that reminds me of 1920’s American croon-tunes and I pretend the megaphones are actually gramaphones.
Every day is absolutely nuts. I can’t believe this is my life. But the craziest bit so far was during my realization that I can actually do this. I mean, we’ve been here for 1 month. One. And somehow we’re already having long conversations in Thai. That’s bonkers! We’re making lifelong friendships with people that don’t speak a lick of English. These people actually like talking to us. They’re all so damn smiley and patient. It’s completely foreign - and delightful.
I don’t mean to sound cheesy, but the Thai spirit is infectious. A girl can get used to this real quick. Consider me one happy camper. Month numero uno has been a total success.
Stay tuned.
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