Ja-ka-wan

My friends from college and I decided to have a reunion this past July 4th. We all scattered after graduation and it had been a while since a good laugh together, so all agreed eagerly. “Let’s go to Puerto Rico!” we thought. “North Carolina’s Outer Banks?” was proposed. “Grand Canyon? Florida? California?” All ideas were rejected—too far, too foreign, too expensive . . . In the end, we settled on an all around winner: Minnesota! Not exactly known for its popular tourist destinations or vacation hot spots, Minnesota appealed to our incompetent sides. We had a friend who lived there, it was totally manageable, and most importantly, it was affordable.

We rented a lake house in Nevis, MN, about a 3-hour drive from Minneapolis (somewhat annoyingly called part of the TC (Twin Cities) by locals who think coast-dwellers actually know that there are large cities in the Midwest). We arrived in shifts and somehow all miraculously made our way through the Minnesota countryside to the house, which turned out to be incredible. It was a small compound, with about 11 beds/sofas, a separate loft area (affectionately known as the love hut), and a huge deck with a grill, a hot tub and lounge chairs. There was also a perfect Beirut table in front of a wall of windows that looked out onto a giant, perfectly green lawn. It let down to a sparkling lake and a private dock fitted with our own pontoon and a 2 person canoe. Touché, Minnesota, Touché!









The week in Nevis consisted of our primary vacation goals: drunkenness, Frisbee, drunkenness, Beirut, drunkenness, Party Pontooning, drunkenness, lounging, drunkenness and . . . well . . . you get the point. For me, this was the first time that I felt totally carefree about being drunk all day. Not even in college was I guilt-free about getting drunk at breakfast. Ahem . . . not that I got drunk at breakfast in college. Or in Minnesota. ANYway, with work not looming over my head for a couple days, it was a chance for pure freedom and relaxation.











There was swimming, and grilling, and lots of Beirut.















One of my favorite moments of the trip was when we took the pontoon out on the lake at night. All 11 of us fit on the boat, and we smoked a couple of joints while we drifted around in the water. We all noticed that the sky looked incredible—in rural Minnesota there isn’t a lot of light pollution, so we could actually see so many stars that the disc of the Milky Way became clear to us. Eventually we all got to talking in pairs and, being educated and stoned, each pair was consumed in a discussion of space, and time, and reality, and us in the world and our connection to the world, and what we were looking at and why. It was just superb.





On the last day we held the Beer Olympics, an ancient ritual from the Roman Empire omitted from most history books due to the spooky, superhuman abilities called upon for these impressive feats. The first event was survivor flip-cup, a cut-throat elimination challenge that leaves only one man (or one woman, as the case may be) standing. I tore apart the opposition, taking my team to victory. The next event was supposed to be Beer Swim (chug a beer and thrash about in the lake in an effort to swim around the pontoon) but after a week of revelry and drunkenness achieved by 11 am, Beer Swim was put out of mind and the Chug-A-Thon (beer consumption without the threat of post-chug swimming) was next up. My team destroyed the opponents once again. After that was a Beirut contest, which lasted unusually long due to an unprecedented 3-round overtime. By the end of the Beirut, the world had became a haze, at least one team member was face down on the lawn, and the Beer Olympics lost all momentum. It will have to be conjured from the dead when we meet again.











In the end, Nevis, MN turned out to be the perfect place for us, and I think the consensus is to do this again and again and again, and I can't wait.

I just went to Miami for the first time to visit a good college friend. Actually I spent very little time in Miami, so I can’t really speak to its quality. Instead we packed up the Avalon and headed off for a camping trip in the Keys (forgetting, of course, pillows, blankets, sandals, a flashlight, and other barely necessary camping items!). As we picked up the one road that runs through this string of islands, I realized for the first time that the US has some incredibly beautiful territory of its own worth exploring. I have been searching other continents’ idyllic islands for years—Italy’s Capri, Thailand’s Phuket, the Caribbean’s St. John (US territory but still . . .) only to realize there was a local paradise right under my nose. The beach is everywhere—check out a map of the Keys and you’ll see why—and every town bursts with beach vibes. Miles of pastel buildings, a plethora of marinas and yacht rental agencies, countless seafood restaurants and a merciless sun saturate the area. It really transports you to some exotic location you never thought you could find less than 3 hours from your friend’s house . . . I spent the majority of the drive perusing the beautiful coastal towns we cruised through and bending all around in my seat trying to sneak a peek through the often thick flora to catch a glimpse of the glimmering turquoise water beyond.
We reached our destination at about 3 in the afternoon (a little late as we were up until 5 the previous night!) and claimed our site at Curry Hammock State Park. It was still a little hot for setting up the tent, so we drove to the nearest supermarket to pick up some essentials (beer!) and headed back to our site for the evening. The water was no more than 100 ft from our campsite so we went for a quick swim when we got back, though the water was a little chilly (and when I say chilly I mean it wasn’t bathwater, but it was close). Then we set up our tent, ate some dinner and knocked back a couple beers.







As the light faded, we realize we hadn’t planned for the boredom that comes with the darkness of camping (we had located our pen with a flashlight in the end but this was no significant source of light). But most people had cleared the beach by this time, so we took a towel and a bowl and a bottle of wine and headed down to the water. There had been some construction on the site, a bit of a bummer, but on the bright side they had pushed a couple huge mounds of sand over in our direction, making a totally private little cove on the water side. So we holed up
there for a few hours, talking, drinking, laughing . . . it was ideal.





As it reached peak darkness, the moon showed its true beauty. It was almost full (3 days before actual fullness) and was the brightest I’ve ever seen it. Its light blocked most of the stars from shining through, but it was hardly a thought as it sparkled off the ocean in the most spectacular manner. As the waves rolled in, the light shot back and forth across the curl of each wave, creating a very linear dancing effect. The movement of the light seemed to be playing off the sound of the waves—I swear by this time I heard actual music. Between the dancing moonlight and the sound of the water gently folding in on itself, it appeared nearly as a natural symphony. I could have lain there forever.
The next day we rented a kayak and paddled about the island. I was a little nervous at first because I’m certain I wouldn’t win any kayaking contests, but it was actually fantastic! The water was really shallow and clear, and we saw all kinds of sea creatures—sting rays, little sharks and horseshoe crabs. We also kayaked through a mangrove swamp. It was totally enclosed with very calm water. There were little black crabs crawling on nearly ever root system (I’m sure the place was teeming with life but that was all I could see). After circling the island we decided to head in because it was right in the middle of the day—the worst time to be out in that sun. I seriously burned my toes (don’t forget to put sunscreen on the top of your toes! They’re small but the sun will find them . . .) but other than that escaped relatively unscathed.
We left our campsite and drove a little further south to check out another state park—Bahia Honda. We will definitely stay there next time if we can, it was SO beautiful.







It’s hard to believe that these places haven’t been taken over by mega resorts yet. The beaches are just as beautiful as any you could find in St. Lucia or Ibiza or some other overblown vacation spot, but there’s never more than 50 people within eyesight. How much better does it get?
On the way back to Miami we stopped for key lime pie and fried plantains (yum!) in some silly beachy straw hut restaurant. At the time it was perfect.



We got back to Miami and fell asleep pretty early— the sun can really drain your energy sometimes. The rest of the trip was pretty relaxed—I checked out the beach 2 minutes from my friend’s house, we had some Thai food, he forced me to watch some dumb ultimate fighting match with his friends on Saturday night (ok it wasn't that bad!) and we generally took it easy.
I flew back to New York that Sunday, feeling a little disappointed when I arrived that the temperature was below 70 . . . But in the last two days the weather has vastly improved and I’m reminded how incredible New York really is. You can’t beat the beach, but it’s not too bad living here either!

This past weekend, my good friend from college got married. This is pretty sweet, because she's awesome, and I hope she's super happy. Of course for us (her friends), this was not the occasion for sentimentality, slow dances, or propriety of any sort. Rather, it was a time for extreme drunkenness and the absurdity we know we miss, and I think we did a pretty good job bringing it all together! It was great to see all of you, and I can't wait until the next party. I mean wedding. Whatever. See you when you see me!

After Songkran my friend Pin invited me to Chumpon to stay with her grandmother (known in Thai just as Yai, or “big”). Chumpon is just about in the central region of Thailand, 6 hours or so north of Phuket. We got there the same way one gets anywhere in Thailand—crowded minivan. If you’re really adventurous you can hang off the back of a very much OVER-crowded, open-air van/truck/tuk tuk kind of vehicle. But as its already 100 degrees in the shade, I wouldn’t recommend it.



Anyway, we went the same way I went to visit Dong’s mom, transferring in Surat for the rest of the leg up to Chumpon.
When we got there we were pretty tired, but the next day was a day to remember Pin’s uncle who died 11 years ago and there was much preparation to be done. So we collected some banana leaves from the jungle. They needed to be cleaned and then cut into something that looks like an oval but with two square ends.



Then we cooked sticky rice with black beans and let it cool. While it was cooling we sliced a variety of banana very old to Thailand. It is quite short and fat and there are gritty black seeds about the size of small peas that need to be removed. The first time I ate one I thought it was a bug! Anyway, we wrapped the bananas and the sticky rice inside the banana leaves, tied them up with some colored rope and baked them so they would be ready for the next day.



After that we had to make dumplings. Some friends of the family came over and we all sat out on the tile floor of the porch. The men sat to one side drinking whiskey and the women, including me, sat together folding ground shrimp into dumpling wrappers. I actually really enjoyed this because it was an opportunity for me to focus on an activity and not have to answer too many questions.





After we finished cooking for that day, we slept in one of the children’s rooms on the floor. No pillow, no air, no fan. Most Thai people don’t actually like to use fans—they say it gives them a bad feeling in their sinuses. Sounds crazy and its freakin hot but that’s what they do, so that’s what I did. It wasn’t unbearable.





The next day I awoke to a very stressful situation. I thought it was just going to be me, Pin, her mother, and her grandmother for the weekend, and that we were going to a temple to make offerings in the memory of her uncle. But when I walked out of the room I could hear monks chanting in another room. I went for a look and saw about 25 people kneeling in front of the monks. To my left there were another 5-10 women whipping about the kitchen, rice cookers on everywhere. In the room directly outsides the room I slept in were about 50 bowls already filled with soup or “khaow mok,” an Indian flavored yellow rice, decorated with chicken, cucumber and cilantro. Apparently this was more than a small gathering.







Pin had woken up before me—after I located her cooking eggs and fish on the outside fires I expressed my surprise at how many people there were. She actually paid me no attention and I had to go back into my room to hide and think about facing the crowds on my own. I was a little annoyed at Pin but I decided she wasn’t malicious, she just felt that it was my problem about talking to these people or not. And I agree with her. So I went out and joined the prayers in the first room. The monks’ chanting sounded Tibetan style to me, or at least that’s the only other group chant I’ve really been present for and they sounded reasonably alike. After the monks finished their prayers they passed around a chalice filled with water. They each dipped sliced pandanas leaves in the water and flicked them at the audience, casting a gentle sprinkle upon all of us as we kneeled with our heads to the floor and our hands in a wai (prayer position). Then we delivered food to the monks to thank them for coming all the way from the temple to honor the lost family member. After that we had our own feast, of which I could only eat khaow mok because that was the only vegetarian item.
After the monks left and we cleaned up from the meal it was time to go to the Wat. It’s the norm to pile 15 people into a pick-up truck , so I didn’t really think much of my seat in the back. However, as soon as I got hit with my first bucket of water, the light went on—It’s still Songkran up here!! I had completely forgotten that in other parts of Thailand, including Chumpon, the Songkran water festival actually lasts a whole week. It was hard to get grumpy in such a comical situation, but I was slightly annoyed that I had worn my favorite white shirt and it was now two lovely shades of toxic neon green and school bus yellow. Needless to say, at the next opportunity to switch seats I jumped into the cab of the truck!
At the Wat we burned incense and shook sticks at a Buddha statue. Then we walked in a clockwise circle around the Wat and stuck little squares of gold leaf onto big metal balls stationed at 8 points around the circumference. Then we ate ice-cream (coconut flavor with green sticky rice) and walked around the small market behind the Wat. After that we left the Wat and drove to a jungle with hot water wells—these big stone wells had boiling water down at the bottom—there was a net on a long pole with which you could scoop up a leaf, dunk it in the water, and bring it up to ground level to touch the water and see how hot it is. It’s pretty hot! I’m not sure about what creates the heat but it’s something organic. The jungle was beautiful—there was lots of bamboo and long coiled tree trunks that look like masses of slithering snakes.









At this point the day was going great but then I made my fatal mistake—outside the jungle were a couple of food vendors. We ate boiled sweet potatoes and taro and yam mak muang (spicy green mango salad), one of my favorites. It was delicious, but about 30 minutes later I started to feel a little funny. When we got back to the house I went to lie down, and about 1 hour after that I knew it was all over. I was sweating, vomiting, heaving, dizzy and disoriented. I was sick. Really sick. Like third world, bad food kind of sick. The worst part is there were still so many people in the house and I didn’t want them to see me (I’m sure they would have attributed my illness to the weakness of the farang in the Asian world). So I grabbed a bucket and hid in my room. It was hot, there was no air, no friends, no help. Just sick and sick and sick for hours.

In the middle of the night Pin’s mom came into the room and offered to take me to the hospital. I declined, knowing the pain would be over soon and also that whatever hospital that existed in Chumpon would be of little use, but thanked her profusely. She came back shortly thereafter with a capful of some brown powder and a cup of hot water. She made a motion to swallow the powder then the water. She handed them to me and made another motion that looked either like refreshing the body from the stomach up or vomiting, I wasn’t sure. I looked at my handfuls, looked at Pin’s mom, thought about my options, and downed them both without thinking any further. I decided I probably wouldn’t be offered this strange powder again and, come what may, it couldn’t get much worse than it already was. The powder was actually nice, though difficult to swallow. It was kind of musty and herbal with a menthol finish that was accentuated by the hot water. But about 20 minutes later I had my answer: it was a vomiting technique, and it hurled me into another few hours of misery. Pin stayed awake with me for a while and in between heaving episodes we talked about physics and religion and philosophy and all of my favorites things. It was incredible that we could communicate at this level. It took several months for us both to pidgin our own languages so the other could understand, but it worked. Anyway that distracted me for a good amount of time until I could fall asleep at last.
The next day I felt ok. I couldn’t eat except a banana, which I was criticized for and told to eat rice instead. But I sucked it up and we drove to a beach on the Thai Ocean. This was my first time at the Thai Ocean, all the beaches in Phuket are in the Andaman Sea (which is considered to be more beautiful). My favorite part was the most serene, giant white statue of Buddha sitting at the back end of the beach, gazing out into the unending ocean.



The next day we headed back to Phuket. I was sad to go but also it was a relief. Life was really hard in Chumpon. It really took a lot out of me to tolerate the Thai country lifestyle. It was so goddamn hot and a little bit boring and all focused on working to stay alive—collecting food in the jungle, making fire, fighting animals and insects, it was all very primal. But it bothered me that I had trouble dealing with it and for these people it is so easy. Perhaps we would swap roles in a big city. But I did survive, I had an amazing experience, I learned to make some different dishes and talked with a different slice of Thai society. It was awesome.
Instead of catching the minivan back to Phuket, the whole family decided to make the trip with us and stay overnight in Phuket, so we piled into the back of a pick-up truck once again. Only this time we had luggage and coolers and bags of pak miang (tomato leaves) and pak boong (morning glory) taking up all our space. So I sat, crowded up in the back of that truck with Pin and four little girls and all that stuff, for 8 hours.





As darkness crept over us, the girls fell asleep. I leaned back, switched on my ipod, and listened to the 4/9/99 basis, staring up at a glittering canopy of stars that almost entirely covered the black velvet background of space. Cool country air whipped through our hair as we careened through the twists and turns of the mountainous route. I had not a care in the world . . .

I think I understand some very important things in life. I think I understand what is good and bad, at least for me. I think I understand what I believe. I think I understand that I can’t be sure about any of this, particularly about other people and their thought systems-- but I can work around that. And I think understanding that I can’t be sure is one of my greater accomplishments.

As an Asian Studies major, I also thought I understood the concept of Yin and Yang. You know, black and white, good and bad, everything in balance. But I have discovered a different, deeper manifestation of this theory in the lifestyle of the Thai people. Yin and Yang as an abstract idea in the pages of a school book is one thing. In practice everything can change . . .

The Thai [Buddhist] people have a very laissez-faire attitude about life that results from a complete faith in Buddha and his doctrine. They have given up their egocentric perspective and adopted a very peaceful acceptance in a future that is given to them. There is very little sense of the importance of “I.” Therefore, what happens in one’s life is less the result of an individual’s actions than the result of the benevolence, or sometimes malice, of a higher being.

And I am not just imagining this as the case, there is some evidence. For example, I can see this concept as foundational in the Thai language. When people speak, it is often customary to refer to one’s self with one’s given name. For example, if someone were to ask me what I did today, I would answer: “Saa went to Nai Harn beach today.” I think this kind of language demonstrates a separation from one’s ego due to an ability to see one’s self not only from another person’s perspective, but also from the perspective that one’s individual existence is somehow of little value. Furthermore, nearly all the traditional festivities here involve preparations not to reel in luck that already exists, but to become lucky by divine intervention. The Chinese New Year, the monthly fruit-offerings and incense burnings on a Friday afternoon, the Vegetarian Festival, the Water Festival, these all take place in an effort to please whatever powers may be so to become lucky. This feeling that the luck exists independent of the individual and cannot be determined by the individual himself also demonstrates the passive yet spiritual attitude of the Thai people.

Because an individual is not necessarily in control of the path his life will take, people here accept “bad luck” with incredible grace. They may comment that it is an unlucky year for them, and they will hope that the following year might be lucky to compensate. Even on a smaller scale, the ups and downs of a week or a day are all part of this master plan and all of it seems to matter very little.

My personal experience of this worldview has been extremely educational and as a result I have discovered a new way to deal with the tides of good and bad. Although all my friends and acquaintances were Thai, that doesn't mean I knew right off the bat how to interact with them properly across cultural boundaries. I had to figure it out as I went along, and we had our fair share of problems and miscommunications. In one particular episode with a friend of mine, we lost all contact with one another. I couldn't understand what had happened, and I spent an entire month brooding about it. He had done something I thought was really wrong and hurtful, and I think the experience sent me into a spiral because my belief system was taking a battering. I was tired like I was physically fighting a war, but the fighting was inside my head--a battle of my beliefs. What I couldn’t understand was how a good person could be so cruel. Or how anyone could be so cruel. I want to believe that people are good. I have to believe that. Then again, maybe my thinking was completely erroneous. How can I hold onto that idea in light of such actions? It took me a whole month to finally come to terms with what he did. And when I finally managed to straighten out my thoughts it was like a ball of light exploded in my life and everything instantly improved. What I had done was succeed in loving him more for doing something that had hurt me, turning my anger into loving compassion. I had successfully followed in the footsteps of great Buddhist leaders and the evidence that this was a good direction to take was the seeming evaporation of bad energy from my life. With very little effort, I reestablished a positive relationship with this person, had all of my previous (and as it turned out, misguided) worries erased, my hopes confirmed, and my life in Thailand became more productive and more rewarding.

Then I started thinking about how it felt like that one month didn’t really exist. Like all my brooding didn’t really matter because I was back on top again, only this time I felt like I wouldn't fall so easily. You have to be like that, if you plan on loving the whole world. And I thought about Yin and Yang, looking like a sinusoidal curve in my life, up and down, up and down. But if you just move smoothly with the curve, there are no sharp corners, nothing you can’t recover from, nothing to block you from maintaining positive energy. And then I understood how Thai people look at life: rich or poor, easy or hard, with or without love, with life and death. This is the pattern of life and it will always be this way. You can splash, flounder and cough as you drown in the sea of trying to control everything in your life, or you can accept it and move with grace. Up to you . . .

April 13th was the Thai New Year. It either coincides with or is celebrated by (I’m still not clear on this) Songkran, the annual water festival. I remember before I got to Phuket there was another kind of water festival where they light fires on miniature boats and set them to sail into the oceans. I’m not sure what it celebrates, but I had in my mind that Songkran would be something similar, something serious. I have never been so wrong. The day before Songkran my friends warned me that I would probably get wet if I left the house, and that we should probably go to buy some waterguns to participate. I didn’t think much of it, and I definitely didn’t hurry out to the store for a supersoaker. The next day my friends told me to come to my boss’s house at 9 a.m. As usual I didn’t ask too many questions, I just agreed to show up! So I pull out of my apartment on my motorbike that morning, and I haven’t even reached the end of my street before some rowdy guys from the mechanics shop on the corner started running at me with water guns (they were always hassling me a bit and shouting things at me as there weren’t many farangs in that area). Not sure what to do, I just sped away, but half-way down the road to my boss’s house (we lived less than 5 minutes apart) I could see these people standing in the street waving at me to come closer to the side of the road. They were kind of stepping into the road so out of caution I slowed down a bit—what I didn’t realize was that these people weren’t armed with dinky little water squirters. They had a whole garbage can filled with water and were using massive buckets to disperse this water onto unlucky passersby such as myself. So, as the gears in my brain slowly cranked away trying to figure out what these people were doing and what I should do about it, I got completely soaked with ice-cold water before I had any clue what was going on. I mean seriously soaked. Not wet a little bit, completely soaked, like I had jumped in a lake wearing my clothes. I showed up to my boss’s house to a hearty uproar of laughter on my behalf—no worries, I thought, its Songkran!
When I got there, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a water gun, so I hopped on Pi-Nut’s motorbike with my student, Nong-Gon, and the three of us headed off to Supercheap, a kind of warehouse store nearby which, as you may have guessed, is super cheap. It was weird walking through the store completely wet, but I go the impression people were only staring at me because I’m a farang—they thought nothing about the fact that I was leaving a soggy trail behind me. After we got back to the house, we realized we still didn’t have enough water guns, so back to Supercheap again! Supercheap is weird because lots of illegal immigrants from Myanmar work there, but I think my look appeals to them—every time I go someone tries to ask me out. This time I got “farang suay jung luy” which means “the westerner is really beautiful.” I would have gone back 10 mores times if we needed to! . . .
So after we get all the water guns, some older men I don’t know (they were friends or family of my boss, not sure) start loading up the back of a pick-up truck. Apparently we were arming ourselves with our own garbage cans full of water.



In the meantime, the rest of us performed the Songkran rituals of honouring the elders. In this case it was Khun-David, Yaa’s boyfriend, and Yaa’s mother. They sit together and we all take a cup of this water that has a kind of menthol powder and orchid petals mixed into it. Then we kneel, one at a time, in front of the elder, offer good wishes like: “May you have long life,” and pour some of our water in their cupped hands. Then the elder rubs the water over the back of your bowed head and says something kind back to you. You move down the line like this if there are more elders, but this time there were only two.







After the ritual we ate some food and then it was time to go. About 10 people piled into the back of this pick-up truck. Khun-David is like a child at heart so he stayed in the back with us, but some of the other older people, including my boss, her mother, and my friend Pin opted to stay in the cab. So at this point I’m still not too sure what’s going to happen, but I find out soon enough! After we pull out of the street and head down towards the university, I see other trucks with the back filled with people. They’re everywhere! There are so many people in the back of these trucks, just like ours. I’m already starting to love it . . . So this is how it works. We have these big garbage cans of water and lots of little buckets to scoop it out with. We also have water guns and supersoakers and whatever. We are seriously armed! So when you pass another truck full of people, or anyone for that matter, you try to splash water all over them. This applies to everyone—no one is safe! If you’re on a motorbike, you’re fair game. If you’re an old lady riding a bicycle, you’re fair game. The best part is that you can totally soak the policemen too! Its particularly easy when they’re standing in the middle of the street directing traffic (on Songkran the roads were an absolute disaster, so they were out in force). Anyway, every single person adopts the spirit of the festival. It would be completely unacceptable to get grumpy about getting wet. First of all its unavoidable, grumpy or not, so you may as well be chill about it. Second of all, everyone loves Songkran because, as Nong-Gon eloquently put it, “In Thai is hot.” Another element to the festivities, aside from just getting wet, wet, and more wet, is that men make a mix of water mentholated powder, and often coloured dye. Then they smear it all over the face of any lady they like. If they’re particularly drunk they might try to kiss you too. Being a farang, this happened to me too much! Actually the best bit was when a truck, not a pick-up but the kind they use as shuttles from hotels to airports, was completely full of crazy drunks who simulateously shouted "I LOVE YOU" to me from across their side of the street. Just about everyone within a 300 ft radius of me turned to laugh and stare. But it was great! I was really living Songkran! And, as we went driving along the island, those people who opted not to get in a truck and drive around organized these kind of street-side house parties. They get wasted, blast music, and have a generally amazing day. When you pass these people partying on the street, it is procedure to slow down and soak each other. Just speeding by is not ok. Then, this is their opportunity to come and wipe this powder all over you. I thought the whole thing was totally awesome—I didn’t care that my clothes were getting tye-dyed without my permission or that I was wetter then I had ever been before. The only thing is that when these totally wasted guys come up and smear this paste all over your face, they really don’t take any care to avoid your eyes or mouth or anything—it’s mentholated so it really stings! Overall this wasn’t too bad, and I was in a total state of bliss for most of the day. I mean, I used to think Beer Bike was amazing (for those of you who don’t know, this is the annual party at Rice University that involves a campus-wide period of early morning binge drinking followed by the biggest water-balloon fight I’ve every seen. It is usually enjoyed to the fullest under the influence of many drugs, and I always thought getting 2-3000 people involved in something was just spectacular) but Songkran is on a totally different level. I mean, this is the entire island in a water fight. Actually, its all of Thailand, and in other regions it goes on for a full week. In Phuket it is just the one main day. Anyway, we’re talking about thousands and thousands of people just driving around like maniacs getting wasted and celebrating life-giving water in the most youthful, cheerful, and insane way I could have imagined. This was really something.







So we drove to Saphanin, but the road was almost a stand-still so we headed towards Chalong. We had to stop a few times to fill up on water and unfortunately ice. I thought getting soaked was totally fun and amusing but everyone insisted on putting these massive slabs of ice into the garbage cans, making the water absolutely frigid. Of course Thailand is hot and cold water is good, but after a while the thought of giving up had crossed my mind, I mean, this water is COLD! In Chalong we passed by Khun-Kek’s house. She is the mother of 3 of my students, and rather than driving around they had opted to create one of these road-side parties. I stood up looking for my students—they saw me, I saw them, happiness was shared, and then they soaked me with ice-cold water and smeared menthol mud all over me! They must wait 364 days every year to do this to their teachers. Quite like me with the police ;)
After Chalong we headed for Patong, driving through Katha and Karon. I had never been here before but I learned that this was the heart of the tourist industry in Phuket. There were so many farang here, clearly enjoying the festivities—everyone was wasted and wearing very little clothing, but also the town looked so boring; Fake rock-cave bars, fake palm tree oases, thai waitresses in mini-skirts, you get the idea. But I have to say it was pretty fun to drive through this area, there is a friendly battle between Thai people and farang on this day (whereas usually they can be outright against each other) so the farang spots are actually fun on Songkran. I also thought my student Nong Gon was hilarious—he was just leaning over the edge of the truck with a supersoaker going “ooh farang!” “ooh farang!” and shooting them all with glee. So this carried on all day. We stopped for lunch before getting to Patong, then after some fried rice it was back on the road, wet again, mentholated again, tye-dyed again. Then the traffic came to a complete halt on the way to Patong so we u-turned and headed back for Phuket Town. Of course, as soon as we pulled into the house all the people who thought they were safe riding in the cab of the pick-up truck were immediately soaked by us in the back!! They tried to run screaming into the house but we got ‘em good!
Coolest day ever? Yeah . . . .

Thailand sounds like dogs barking.  It sounds like rain clouds thundering in the distance, and palm trees swaying in the wind.  It sounds like birds chirping away, lots of birds, and different kinds of birds with different sounds.  It sounds like motorocycles and big trucks rattling down the street.  It sounds like old creaky gates opening and closing, and horns honking.  Not car horns or motorbike horns--squeeze horns from the people who walk down the street pushing a cart of fruit or dried fish or ice-cream.  They honk a little squeeze horn so you know they're down there.  Thailand also sounds like children playing, running in the street with their cheap flip-flop sandals scraping against the dusty road.  Lately at night I can hear something that sounds like a combination of a goose and a cow, or maybe it would be fun to say it sounds like a goose and a moose.  This is both silly and true, because it does sound like a goose and a moose, honking away until I drift away into my dreams.  Thailand also sounds like geckos chirping--but a simple, sturdy, rhythmic chirp, not like a bird.  When I close my eyes, I can hear the sounds of trees rustling, like at Nai Harn beach or Saphanin.  Or if you're lucky enough to find a beach with no people, like Ko Si Rae or Ko Hae, Thailand sounds like gentle waves folding over themselves onto the sand.

So perhaps some of you have been thinking I’ve been living a rough life here, sleeping on the floor and eating only rice. And this is true . . . sometimes. But what you probably don’t know is that the rest of the time I’m accidentally caught up with what appear to be the Phuket local superstars. My boss, Khun Yaa, is a fabulously rich Thai model (she also works in real estate) with rich farang boyfriends (usually about 30 years her elder) all over the world. She’s constantly traveling to Paris, Hong Kong, Singapore, London. Her home in Thailand, just outside Phuket Town, is also fabulous, with a pool, black tile floors, and her collection of whiskey bottles and diamond-studded champagne bottles in a glowing glass cabinet . . . That’s where I go to teach my classes, by the way. How did I come to meet Yaa, you might ask?



Well my first month here I was doing my Celta training at an English school in Phuket Town called ECC. There I met Pin, she was one of my students in the elementary class the first two weeks. She lives with Khun Yaa, along with two other girls: Pi Shee and Pi Nut. I’m not entirely clear why the four girls live together, particularly Pin, who is entirely covered with tattoos and likes to get high while the other girls love to wear gold and their hair always looks as perfect as their nails. I do know that Khun Yaa kind of scooped Pin out of a previously dark and dismal life. Perhaps she did the same for Shee and Nut. Now they live together, Yaa pays for everything, and all the girls have to do is take care of Yaa’s son nong Gon (like pick him up from school) and water the garden, cook meals, do laundry, deliver champagne to her outstretched hand the minute she asks for it. . . .
Anyway, so this is where I work. At this house with these four girls.





I teach Yaa’s son and his four friends, and there’s always lots more family and friends running around the house for me to meet. The best part is that Khun Yaa (and her current farang boyfriend from London, Khun David) have really taken me into the family and treat me like one of their own. I go out to fabulous restaurants with them, drinking champagne or Chivas whiskey all the time. Actually, I can’t believe I can say this but I sometimes find myself in a situation where there’s too much to drink!, You see, Khun Yaa is very much the leader of the pack and she likes to show her dominance whenever possible. Therefore, when we all go out together, she insists that we drink. When she says finish your glass, we must finish. And sometimes we’re drunk already or we don’t want to drink more but if Yaa says drink, we have to, so sometimes we wait for her to look away and then we pour our glasses onto the ground or under the table. I can’t believe I’m in a position where there’s actually too much champagne around . . . .! Also, when Yaa wants to go out partying she takes me with them and we are treated like VIPs. If there is no valet parking, they create it for Khun Yaa. As soon as we enter the club, there is a bottle of Chivas waiting for us already. People clear space for us to sit down, or clear space for her to go dance. She knows everyone, everyone knows her, and she can pay to do anything. And I go along for the ride!
Another sweet thing she likes to do is take boat trips around the islands, which I have had the distinct pleasure of joining as well. The first time we went to Krabi, about a 2 hour drive north. Yaa was already honeymooning or whatever there with David, so I jumped in a second car with the family and met them there. She paid for me to stay with them at the Sheraton in Krabi, a really awesome resort right on the beach. On the first day we just took it easy—I had a massage on the beach, then we played table tennis and then went to eat a ridiculously lavish spread in nearby Ao Nang. The next day we went out on the speed boat, zooming out in the ocean between the islands. We went to Ko Gai (chicken island) which is cool because there’s a sandy land bridge connecting it with another island that gets covered with about neck-high water when the tide comes up. This is funny because people anchor their boats on one island in the morning, then walk with their bags on a completely dry land bridge to the other island. Then at the end of the day when the water comes up, people are all walking in a line with their bags on their heads like a mass exodus in Africa or something. But I have to say this place was stunning. The colors are just shocking—the crystal clear blue of the water that looks more aqua where the water is shallow, the deeper colors of blue of the ocean in the distance, the ethereal sky of clouds above . . . breathtaking.





We also went to Ko Rai Lei, an island in a cove of limestone formations. This was my first real taste of the limestone, and it is magnificent. Unfortunately, Rai Lei is so beautiful that it is now completely covered in tourists. I tried to appreciate the natural beauty but it is not so easy anymore. Anyway, we ate lunch at a Muslim restaurant on the beach (paid for of course by khun Yaa) and then we set off again, heading back to Krabi.







But here my paradise story takes a twist--When we got off the boat at the Sheraton, I jumped straight from the back end of the boat onto a rock in the ocean, resulting in absolutely searing pain in my foot. I couldn’t walk, had to be taken to the hotel clinic doctors (who were, as you might expect, completely useless) and I was given an old person walker as they had no crutches! Anyway, this is typical me and as you might imagine sucks a lot—I’m on a tropical vacation and I’ve busted my foot and can’t walk. But we drive back to Phuket Town and my friends take me for X-rays where I find out I’m fine, just a sprained tendon or whatever. Also the doctor tried to ask me out which was apparently hilarious for my four girlfriends who had accompanied me.
So that was the first amazing boat trip. Boat trip #2:
Phang Nga is a city about 2 hours north of Phuket as well. I had driven through it before on my way to Surat with my ex-boyfriend to see his mom, and I knew how beautiful it was. It is covered in massive limestone formations, and this is also the site of a giant gold Buddha sitting peacefully under some stalagmites (or stalagtites? The ones that come down . . . ) So Khun Yaa and Khun David decide they want to take a trip to Phang Nga Bay, but instead of driving they charter a boat. And this time they charter my friend Narb’s boat (she’s my other good friend here and she works in a place called Yacht Haven in northern Phuket). This boat is insanely nice—its covered in white leather, it has 3 bedrooms downstairs, and the people in charge of the boat are my friends! I’m thinking, how can this get any better? Narb makes us all mango juice and there’s breakfast of croissants. Of course the Thai people brought their own curries because they eat spicy in the morning same like in the evening. It is usually farangs who rent Narb’s boat (for a whopping $3000 a day!) so it is set up to please the farang palate. Anyway, we set out for Phang Nga at about 9 am, stopping only to buy mussels from a local fisherman in a longtail and to drive into some small bays.





The drive on the boat to Phang Nga takes about 1 or 2 hours, and when we get there, I am dumbstruck. The limestone is absolutely amazing. I saw James Bond island, which I think is featured in the movie The Beach. There are also a number of limestone caves the boats can actually drive through—we went under 2.







Then we drove some more through the islands, and we somehow managed to convince everyone (there are about 10-15 people with us) to go snorkeling without us, leaving me, Pin and Narb to enjoy a private toke on the boat. It was spectacular.







Then we took the boat speeding through the mango swamps, which, as you curve this way through murkier water with the jungle on both sides has the distinct feeling of driving through the Amazonian tributaries . . . We all climbed out onto the nose of the boat to chill and take pictures, but we were really ripping around the turns in the mango swamps—at one point my friend Pin nearly slid off the side as we curved to the right. I remember she grabbed onto my pants to stop from sliding off, and the video I was taking at the time documents the chaos perfectly as I drop my camera to save my friend!



Anyway, after the mango swamps we stop on an island (I think it was Long Island?) to have lunch at a tropical resort, where are usual Yaa has ordered giant lobsters and sea prawns, and of course we must all drink more champagne . . . We take a short tour of this island, then back on the boat to head back to Phuket.







Apparently the driver of the boat fancied me, as my giggling friends were thrilled to inform me, but I don’t really know what to do in those situations so I climbed out onto the front of the boat and lay down facing the sky, and I stayed there for the entire duration of the trip back, changing my position only to observe the floating Muslim village we passed (I forget the name).








I remember we were going so fast, the wind scraping over my face and the bottom of the boat smacking on top of the waves, I had the sensation I was laying carelessly on a rocketship that was soaring through space.
Boat trip #3:
This time Khun Yaa decides she wants to have a barbecue on the beach, so we rent a speed boat (not like the leather lined yacht from the last trip, sigh . . .) and go around to a few islands for snorkeling first. I am often comparing the beaches and waters of Thailand to that of the Caribbean because those are the 2 tropical places I’ve been. I have to say I think the Caribbean is nicer. The sand is whiter and softer, whereas Thai beaches are often littered with rocks. Also, there seems to be a lot of disturbances in the Andaman sea and the water is often murky and the snorkeling difficult. Furthermore, anywhere you go there are sea lice, which nip at you while you swim, annoying some but seriously affecting others. So after snorkeling one time I am content to watch. There is of course champagne to be drinking, and mangos and cashew nuts and things on board, so I couldn’t be happier. Then we drive around searching for an appropriate barbecue island—this one has no shade, this one has too many people, this one has too many rocks. After we find the right place, which happened to be Ko Hae (and happened to be beautiful), we jump out of the boat and wade to the beach for the barbecue, which of course included lobsters and giant prawns!







After lunch my friend Pin and I walked about 1 km to the other end of the beach to get high. While we were sitting and smoking we heard rustling in the trees behind us. After sneaking up to the jungle like lions stalking our prey, we could see what was causing the noise—toucans! Or some kind of toucanesque bird with a big yellow beak. I have never seen this kind of bird outside of the zoo, and apparently it is quite unusual for even Thai people to see them. Here there were more than 3! I remember a while ago I was in Ban Khao Kat with Pin and Dong and they turned up to the mountains and exclaimed something about a special bird, but I never saw it and they didn’t know the English name. Now Pin informs me this had been the bird they had seen in Khao Kat, and now I know I was a very lucky girl to be in the birds’ presence on two separate occasions.



We watched for about 20 minutes, but by then it was getting dark and time to leave. We weren’t far from Phuket, I could see Chalong Bay from Ko Hae, and we were back within the hour.
Not exactly roughing it, am I? Somebody pinch me . . .

About 2 weeks ago I went to Kuala Lumpur to change my visa. I had previously been driving every 30 days to Ranong, a border crossing town between Thailand and Myanmar (about a 6 hour drive north of Phuket). But the current immigration law dictates that you can only get the 30-day visa 3 times, then you have to leave the country for 90 days. But I have the luxury of carrying 2 passports, and I had gotten a 2-month tourist visa in my US passport before I left New Orleans. Forgetting that passport in London, I had my Dad send it to me so I could use the visa inside. However, 5 days before my visa run to Ranong to switch from the 30-day visa to my 2-month visa, I decided to double check the dates inside my US passport. To my dismay, I realized my visa had already expired. On top of that, I came to understand that I couldn’t do a 30-day visa run to Ranong on my US passport because apparently Myanmar doesn’t like Americans! So with 5 days to find a way out of the country, I realized I would have to make the rather more expensive and time-consuming trip to Malaysia.
Of course, planning my trip to KL became ever-more complicated. I realized that, in order for the Thai Embassy in KL to give me a 2-month visa, I would have to conceal the fact that I’d already been in Thailand for 3 months lest they hesitate to give me a visa on the grounds that I’m not doing anything productive in Thailand, or worse, that I’m working illegally on tourist visas. So, I had to be sure to exit Thailand on my British passport and enter Malaysia on my American one. Then I bought a fake ticket from KL to Phuket back to KL to show pre-paid airfare out of Thailand in the future. Then I smudged the truth on my visa application form, claiming I had never been in Thailand. I had to remember not to speak Thai and I had to hide my Thai currency too. Everything was compounded by the knowledge that if I screwed any of this up, I’d be stranded in Malaysia without a way back into Thailand nor a way to stay longer than 4 days in Malaysia! But in the end everything worked out for the best and I remember when the Embassy handed back my passport I was skipping down Jalan Ampang with my hands in the air and a huge smile on my face shouting: “I got my visa!”
So about KL. I was only there for one day really, arriving on Monday night and leaving on Wednesday afternoon. But I had a little time to see the city. It’s quite interesting actually; a strange mix of new and old, Eastern and Western. It’s really diverse too—many Muslims, Africans, and Indians. This diversity mixed with the way the roads look makes KL feel a little like London, but then the tropical weather and palm trees is confusing.

But really I couldn’t really appreciate KL when I was there. To me it was just another big city, although I’m sure if I had more time there I could put KL in my heart. Not the part of town I stayed in, though. I was staying in a backpackers’ lodge on Petaling Street in Chinatown.

This turned out to be a mistake as the entire 2 blocks surrounding my room was a street market geared towards ensnaring unknowing tourists in its deadly web of cheap DVD’s, stolen watches, and traditional-looking but completely fake jewelry, clothes, trinkets, and other worthless items. Walking back to my room was literally a war: me again the market sellers. You see, they try anything to get people to buy from their kiosks, shouting all sorts of comments and even obscenities. And they really don’t listen to reason when you don’t want to stop and shop. I’ve tried explaining that I don’t wear a watch because I don’t care about the time and if I wanted one I promise I would buy one, in fact I promise to buy from this exact shop when I decide its time for a watch . . . But this doesn’t seem to have any effect. So you have to find the balance between being aggressive enough for them to leave you alone but not so aggressive that you seriously offend them such that a small gang of sellers forms behind you, cursing you for being a westerner or possibly following you until you buy something. Anyway, I didn’t have to spend too much time there, so I could forgive the chaos of the market. Also the oldest Hindu temple in KL was right around the corner, which was a plus.

Sri Maha Mariamman Temple Dhevasthanam

One of the things I did was go to the Petronas Towers, the two tallest towers in the world.

Ok yeah, they look pretty cool from the outside. But they don’t look all that big and inside it looks like the Galleria (the giant, outrageously expensive mall worshipped by all the rich Houston housewives, for those of you who don’t know), so I was thoroughly unimpressed. I had met some people at the Thai Embassy that morning who were now showing me around KL, but after the towers I decided I had had enough for one day—KL is really big and I’ve been living in a small Thai town so I found KL to be a bit overwhelming. Instead I met up with my new friends the next day at the Embassy to pick up our passports, and, as they were Pakistani, they took me to Little India for lunch. We ate in the traditional Pakistan style; I’m sorry to say but it’s a little harsh on the eye when you first experience it. I mean, I know in the Middle East they often don’t use utensils to eat and instead compact rice in their fingers to make a scooping device. But the Pakistani style kind of skips the part where you compact the rice and instead you just stick your hand right into a plate of rice and curry and scoop it all up as best you can, licking your fingers and smacking your lips all over the place. And, unfortunately, everyone eats from the same plate. However, I didn’t participate in eating from the central plate because one of my new traveling companions had decided he was in love with me and was insisting that he feed me every bite. Too uncomfortable and too tired to object I ate my lunch from his hand. I am only thankful that the food was so absolutely delicious I didn’t really care!
I actually enjoyed a lot of Indian food in KL. My first night there I was so hungry but didn’t know where to go. I wandered the streets for a bit until I spotted an Indian restaurant—there were enough people inside for me to judge that it was a decent place to grab a bite. Of course, now came the time to address the vegetarian issue. As there was no menu, this involved talking with any of the 30 (unnecessary!) waiters in this place, who, of course, don’t speak English. After trying desperately to explain I would eat anything that didn’t have meat and getting passed back and forth between waiters and chefs and back again (it was really becoming a spectacle at this point) I finally managed to convince someone some roti would be fine and a bottle of water please. In the end they brought me naan with 2 different delicious curries. This plus the water came to 3 ringit—about 75 cents! Tired and satisfied, I wandered back through the marketplace warfare and fell asleep in the lodge.
When I arrived back in Phuket I had a very different experience at the airport than the first time I flew into Thailand. The first time, I lost all my prescription medicine on the flight from London to Bangkok. This resulted in a lot of crying (as the total cost was about $500 dollars and in addition I was without all my essential medicine that I had packed so carefully knowing I wouldn’t be able to find it in Thailand). I had to spend 2 extra hours in the airport, trying to talk with British Airways and waiting for different airplanes to land so I could talk with different people. In the end I had to give up and I headed off for my hotel. I took an expensive taxi because I didn’t know any different. I didn’t know where I was going or what adventures/disasters were headed my way. I couldn’t speak the language and I didn’t know anybody in Phuket. I had been traveling for 20 hours and I felt like I could collapse at any moment.
This time, however, was completely different. I was so happy to have successfully renewed my visa in KL that I had been grinning like a fool for 2 days. And this time I only had to fly for 1 or 2 hours, and when I arrived in the Phuket airport everything was familiar. I knew where to go and how to speak with people in Thai. I knew not to take the expensive taxi and this time I had a Thai phone which began ringing the second I turned it on. Feeling a strong sense of welcoming I jumped in a crowded minivan without a care in the world and headed off to Phuket to meet up with my friends to catch up on everything I could have missed in this sleepy little Thai town . . . its good to be home!

The other day I went to a fishing "village" with my friends Dong and Billy (don't know where he got this farang name) and once again the feeling that I have entered another world rose up inside me. Sometimes I feel like I'm not doing enough here. Like I don't visit enough beaches or temples or I don't meet enough people because I spend most of my time either teaching or with the friends I already have doing fairly normal things--going to bars, hanging out at our houses, etc. But then I get the chance to do something really special and its as if I recharge my batteries.
Dong woke me up at 8 am and offered me the chance to go with him somewhere (he never says where!) Sleepily I agreed--my attitude is generally to say yes to everything; I feel that I have a better chance of coming across something amazing this way. So he picked me up on his bike 30 minutes later and we headed off.
We drove to a place where, once again, I felt like the only farang who had ever gone there. Or at least the only 20 year old, innocent looking female farang! It was a fisherman's dock or something, where some workers were loading up fresh sheets of rubber to sell and others were waiting for longtails to take them back to their houses and still others, well, I'm not sure what they were doing there! We met up with Billy, who informed me that his friend was coming to get us in his own longtail and that we were going to someone's house who had vacated for the morning. I just nodded my head in agreement--no need to question anything because more than likely I won't understand the response!
His friend came and got us (the dock is not exactly friendly to short people or those who are not acccustomed to leaping from the wooden ledge down onto a rocking longtail boat ... ) but we all made it aboard and he took us through the fishing village, which was, to my amazement, floating.
It was just like a village--the waterways took the shape of roads, cutting a grid around collections of floating houses. These houses, of course, are Thai style, which means there is no rhyme or reason or pattern or consistency to how they make the houses float. Some float on chunks of styrofoam, some on rubber tires, some on big blue bins filled with air, some on a little bit of everything! They build a kind of "deck" around the house but rather than fitting nice smooth slats of wood together, it looks like a net of wooden branches and logs, which makes walking slightly precarious and it feels like walking through a maze . . .
We got to Billy's friend's parents' house, or something, and our longtail driver said he'd be back in 3 hours. So Dong and Billy set to fishing and I set myself to absorbing the shock of this house (I'm not really down with fishing, what with the cruelty to the fish and all). Anyway, the house was literally 4 wooden posts with walls and a roof made of corregated metal. It couldn't have been more than 10 by 10 feet. But inside there were clothes hanging, a small gas cooker, an even smaller TV in a sort of raised platform, about 3 feet by 3 feet that seemed to function as the "living room." The point being, somebody actually lives here. Contemplating what it would be like to live here as I stared through the poorly built "floor" into the river below, I couldn't help but think that Thai people are no less happy than anybody else. They are, perhaps, more happy, and even though this house barely seemed habitable to me, Thai people hardly seem to notice . . .
We spent the next few hours sitting out on the deck, fishing and listening to music off Dong's phone. Then we cooked some rice and tried to cool off in the house. Despite the lack of air- conditioning, Thai houses are actually quite cool. All the holes I notice in the walls, floors, and roofs (they make me think about what unfortunate creatures could sneak into your house this way) are actually surprisingly effective at circulating the air. Sometimes I can be sitting in a Thai house at midday, its 100 degrees outside and we have no air-conditioning or fan but I'm not sweating a bit!
After our simple meal of rice I spent some time gazing around outside at the other floating houses. I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. I left my happy, comfortable home in New Orleans because I knew I could find something different. I knew I could go somewhere amazing, meet interesting people, and more importantly, see things that would change the way I understand the world. Rocking in the sun on the deck of this makeshift, floating house, with my two crazy Thai friends and the sound of Bob Marley coming softly from Dong's phone, I couldn't resist a little smile--I've actually done it . . .

A few days ago my friend Dong’s mother was visiting his sister in Surat Thani. Usually she lives in Nakhorn, a 6 hour bus ride away. But Surat Thani is only 3 hours away, and he hasn’t seen his mother for 4 years, so he took off from work and invited me and my friend Pin to come along for a little trip. His sister lives just outside Surat Thani by the Radjaprabha Dam. She owns a small farm and a rubber field, and by Thai standards she has a big house, although there’s no air conditioning and only a cement floor to sit on. The rubber workers live on her land, and I learned a little bit about the process by which they drain the trees of rubber sap and then roll it out into sheets, dry it in the sun, and sell it. Rubber is an important crop in Thailand, and there are plantations everywhere.
As is usual in Thailand, Dong’s family was incredibly kind and generous, and though they may have seen few farangs before in their life, they took me into their house as though we had been friends for many years. Dong’s mother even said she felt me to be like a daughter. She also called everyone in the family (her nephew, her brother, her ex-sister-in-law, anybody!) and put me on the phone with them. It was funny because I don’t know if they speak English so she holds the phone up to my ear, I say sa-wa-dii- kaa! (hello!) and that’s it and she takes the phone away. It makes me laugh because its so simple but it made Mei so happy. She also gave me a new name--Vanessa is very difficult for Thai people to say (V=W and the rhythm is all wierd so you get something like WanesSAA). My friends introduced me just as Saa, and Mei responded with the first full name she thought of: Su-pan-saa. Apparently this is the name of a very old Thai actress, and Thai people find her to be so lovely. This, therefore, is an auspicious name for me.
Mei can also read people’s hands (not sure yet if I believe in this) and she read for Dong, Pin and myself. To be honest she was about 90% accurate in her perceptions, though she has never heard of us before. And she hasn’t seen her son for quite some time but still she knew many things . . .
There wasn’t much to do in the jungle. We smoked and walked through the rubber fields, I gathered a strange and in my opinion rather unappealing vegetable from the trees with Mei (Thai for mother), we spent time sitting on the floor and chopping chilis and this other vegetable they try to tell me is a pumpkin but I swear it’s not. After I went to the market early in the morning I prepared some farang food (macaroni!) which was extremely exciting for Dong’s family and they brought bowls of it over to the rubber workers and I could hear everyone nattering on and on about farang this and farang that. I was a bit of a zoo spectacle that day, which is fine because Thai people never mean wrong, they are all caay dii jing jing (truly good hearts) so it was ok with me if they wanted to stare and talk about my hair and show me to their children and whatever.
The trip was a good opportunity for me to get out of the congestion of Phuket Town for while. It felt a lot like a successful camping trip. It felt refreshing and organic and my sense of a pervading goodness was rejuvenated. I also had a chance to practice authentic Thai respect, which is extremely important with elder family members. Luckily Mei loved me and I did no wrong to her or anyone else in the family.
Now I am back in Phuket Town, and I start my new job on Monday. I am doing private tutoring for two young boys, one of which is the son of my friend Yaa. It’s a great job for me because I am working for a friend which means fun and flexibility. It doesn’t resolve my work permit issues but I don’t need to worry about that for another 3 and a half months when my tourist visa expires.
But now I need to change the oil in my motorbike so I will go but I will write again soon. Take care and much love to everyone. Chok dii!

At last I passed my CELTA course! In fact I got a Pass B, which is the equivalent of having a year’s teaching experience already, so now I can get a better job. Which brings me to today’s topic: finding a job in Asia. Let me just say that walking down the street is not easy here. Finding a job? Definitely no picnic. Luckily one of the students in my intermediate class, a 50 year old by the name of Suchat who’s lived in Phuket for 20 years, has taken me under his wing and insists on driving me around to meet everyone he knows, not to mention paying for my meals and taking me to see the beach and temples and such things.
Now, I admit having this old man do all these things for me is a little strange but this is the kind of unyielding hospitality you find in Asia. I mean, he literally won’t take no for answer when it comes to paying the bill or driving me everywhere. He even offered to drive me to Myanmar (10 hrs!) And to be honest it’s really helpful as he seems to know everyone on the damn island! He used to be a police captain or something, and some kind of body guard working with the US in Thailand . . . ? It’s a bit fuzzy to be sure, but anyway it’s a good thing right now. For instance today he took me to see the mayor or president or governor or whatever they have over here of Phuket Town to try and hook me up with a job. All I could understand them talking about is how I’m from the USA and I’m so young and then they asked if I were single and I tried to figure out what that has to do with teaching but in the end I left my resume with this Mr. Viwat and he owns the bloody town so I should be able to get a job soon I think.
This is probably my best chance, but Suchat did take me to 4 or 5 other schools to ask around. It’s not easy when the school staff doesn’t speak a word of English, so I don’t really know what will become of those efforts. But the best part of the last few days has to be my visit to Wat Chalong, a beautiful Chinese temple west of where I live now. I spent an hour of so wandering throughout the complex and when I got back to the car Suchat had ice-cold coconuts for me to drink and bananas to eat and it was really a lovely day. How could I want to leave this place?
Thinking positively . . .
-V

I know I can’t get all the magnificent benefits of living in Asia without a little suffering here and there (geckos, power outages and maniacal drivers are a few of the most common features), and my most recent experience with Thai immigration was no exception. They only give 30 days for a tourist visa and since I’m not working yet I had to leave the country so I could come back in and get another 30 days. This involves a 10 hour round-trip drive and a 1 hr boat ride just to put my body physically outside the boundaries of Thailand. This is actually so common, known as “the visa run,” that vans and buses and tourist offices exist solely for the purpose of escorting foreigners in and out of the borders. I think the boat operates only for the visa run as well. Granted the whole voyage only cost 1500 Baht, including lunch at a tropical resort in Myanmar. This works out to around $35, about the cost of a DVD at home . . . But it seems very strange and annoying to me that if I just paid the same 1500 Baht down at the local immigration office, Thailand would still make just as much money off me, the tourist, but a whole lot of people (such as myself, the people who manage the boat, the people who drove us 10 hours up and down the mainland coast, etc) could have been spared a whole lot of trouble, not to mention the pointless use of resources. It doesn’t make any sense to me . . . but this is like most things for me here!
Actually, there is a bright side, which is that the border-crossing point to Myanmar was absolutely stunning. The boat took us to a tropical resort, the Andaman Club, on a Burmese island. I actually had no idea that this was part of the deal, nor was I expecting the delicious lunch served immediately upon my arrival, on a patio overlooking the Andaman Sea, to the sound of wind in the palm trees and a traditional bamboo piano being played in the distance somewhere. The view was gorgeous—sparkling water everywhere and luscious green islands dotting the horizon. The islands were rocky but not jagged, like the backs of dinosaurs just barely rising out of the water, covered in tropical Asian jungles. And despite the length of the journey, the drive was relatively painless, though I spent the first four hours or so contemplating the impermanence of life and trying to remember that every moment is like the moments I experienced in the van—fearing that death is just around that winding turn ahead or in front of the bus that’s swerving our way or in the ditch next to the motorbike that’s pulling out in front of us when we’re going 160 km/hr . . . Anyway, I realized the trick is to never watch what a driver in Asia is doing on the road, and also to remember that you can die at any moment and gripping the sides of the car in fear til your knuckles turn white won’t stop what’s going to happen. So I managed to let go of the car, as well as a few other conditions of my mind, and that makes my visa run a very productive day.

i turned 22 today, which according to my 55 year old colleague "is no age at all." reworded by a another, "i have socks older than you." this may be true, as I can't really remember anything before 1993, but still another year ends while a new one begins in my new home, surrounded by an honest directness which, under the surface, is as loveable as it gets. today we ate cake out of the box between lessons and i carried a bouquet of deep fuchsia orchids with me to my different classrooms. later while i had dinner, a caravan of flat-bed trucks paraded by with people dressed up in costume throwing firecrackers out the back as if to light the way home. they appeared to be confused about the date of the recently past vegetarian festival, but we wrote it off as a personal birthday wish! my friend Neos who owns the restaurant across the street where we were having dinner baked me some kind of strange banana pancake as a birthday surprise and i enjoyed it over a couple of double changs with some good friends. they also fed me some delicious green curry and i went up to my rooom for a birthday toke and i feel that i will move positively into the next year of my life. Here's wishing you all the same
khop khun kaa
-V

ok everyone, i know its taken me two weeks to write an email, but you wouldn't believe how much work i have! i actually come in on weekends, and I work straight through lunch and on into the night. i mean, come on--i didn't do half as much work in college! but its ok, i love the program. learning skills i might actually use some day is a novelty, and we actually teach real students. there's about 5-10 thai students who pay a small fee and come in from 2-4 each day for our teaching practice. i've already taught 6 lessons! but let me start from the beginning . . .

I arrived in thailand at the end of the vegetarian festival, a few days before the program started. i thought this would be just my thing--a bunch of peace-loving, animal-friendly vegetarians getting together for a good nosh. but i was in for a surprise. I woke up on saturday morning to what i thought was rioting in the streets. there were explosions and shouting and i swear i heard armed forces intervening . . . but then music and drumming threw off my hypothesis so i went to investigate, and i stepped out of my guesthouse into another world. the festival culminates in a weekend of chinese style parading that involves some kind of firecracker frenzy. some of the paraders are meant to be mediums for the deities, and they work themselves into a trance, dress up in costumes and stick swords and knives and stakes through their faces, down through their tongues and in through their cheeks. i even saw one man with a patio umbrella sticking straight through one cheek and out the other! they run along with the procession, blessing offering tables on their way, and receive the gift of firecrackers from the bystanders. i gathered that the point was to explode as many firecrackers as possible onto the paraders. and everyone threw firecrackers, from 3 year old children to 80 year old men. there were thousands and thousands of firecrackers. it sounded like a war. apparently you did the best job if you exploded them all over the paraders' feet, or better yet on top of their heads! the smoke was so thick i was choking, and the explosions so loud i gladly accepted an offering of cotton balls for my ears. i'm sure i made a pitiful sight--i hadn't eaten in about two days because of the traveling, i didn't know where i could find food, i didn't even know if i could cross the street in front of the procession, and i was wandering around with cotton balls in my ears, a useless map in my hand, a grumbling stomache and a perplexed look on my face. i decided to take some risks, a quick dash over that way and a duck around the corner and i found a place that i thought was serving food to people and not gods. after literally begging for food, i scampered back to my room and slept for a day and a half. i woke up at 6 am to the same scene for the next two days, and finally the festival ended on the monday my program began.

so let me talk about the program. there are only 5 of us trainees (rather than the usual 12). myself, Ed: a hilarious british ex-publisher of 27, Graham: a self-proclaimed alcoholic Canadian of 34 whose been teaching and traveling in Asia for the last 6 years, Steve: an obnoxious and slightly creepy know-it-all Brit of 55 who's been living in thailand for a few years and thinks he knows everything about the place, especially the women, and Joerdis: a super-organized yet very pleasant German of 28. Together we make a strange mix, and our days are hectic and we work all day, but the botton line is that we love it here. i love thailand. i love that i can't get hot water and there are geccos in my shower. i love that the electricity and internet connection and photocopier and printer only work when they feel like it. i love the cheap and spicy curries we eat for lunch at a place called lotus around the corner from the school, and i love how the old guy who owns the shop down the street where we get beer and cigarettes tells me the price is 30 baht when he means 50, and tells me my change is 20 baht and he gives me 70. i even love that every tuk-tuk driver that goes by honks at me because i'm a westerner and he thinks i want a ride to go bum around on some beach (thank you, i am actually working here . . .)

we also have a couple students who take us to do fun things when we get a rare bit of free time. i went to patong beach last friday to see my student Leng sing in a street band. patong is pretty touristy and it was too dark to see the beach, but it was nice to get out of phuket town for an evening. and hopefully after the program ends i'll have more time to travel and see some of the stunning beaches and other scenery that drew me to thailand in the first place. but for now i'm confined to the few blocks surrounding the school and my guesthouse, and thats fine with me because i have everything i could want here. despite a general feeling of dysfunction about the place, I'm really happy. I finally feel like i'm living my life, not just planning to live it. And I do expect to take a job in Phuket after the course ends, so i'm hoping to be here for the next year or so. (if i stay i'll buy one of the omnipresent motorbikes--i can't wait to have one of my own!) my plans are still undecided, but i'll say this: electricity may come and go, as does water pressure and monsoons. but one thing never leaves--smiling faces, open hearts, and honest invitations from anyone and everyone to join in with the fun. and thats why i'm going to stay.
so feel free to come and visit! and I send all my love around the world to my dear friends and family. see you soon
-V