Sprained Ankle and Patience

It’s a shame that the capacity of mental will sometimes doesn’t match the threshold of our physical will. I felt this, more-so from a physical standpoint, last Monday when I woke up to go to school and my ankles were swollen and my toes nearly unable to move. As thrilling as it was to have fought valiantly through 3 hours of kickboxing the previous Saturday, waking up 2 days later with aching joints was chilling. Not because it was painful, no, it was something I could tolerate, but because of the barrier it was sure to put between me and my new love, Muay Thai.

I hobbled through Monday, limped through Tuesday and cringed through Wednesday until finally one of the Thai teachers in my office inquired about my slow moving. Reluctantly, I told them the story of perhaps my overzealous 3 hours of kickboxing, and before I could shuffle to my desk, they had pulled a student from her class and were mumbling instructions to her in Thai. I will never grow immune to the compassionate and care-taking nature of these kind people. They had made me an appointment for that very evening with an English speaking orthopedic doctor in the city.  Knowing full well that my problem was overuse, ill preparation and a probable sprain, I didn’t really feel the need for an appointment, but the ladies insisted.

Sitting in the “waiting room” of the doctor’s office, which was a hole in the wall exposed to the swarming traffic nearby, I couldn’t help but feel two opposing thoughts. One was appreciation. That I was (and will for the duration of my stay) be taken care of and gratefully, I would be on my way to recovery with a little rest. The other feeling was that of complete frustration with myself. At that very moment, I knew Kelsey was working her ass off in that ring, and I sat waiting to the prognosis of what inherently was my own stupidity. I stay motionless as the Doctor prodded around on my left ankle and made a quick diagnoses of “sprain,” saying that Muay Thai was definitely not for women. Little did he know, this prescription for quitting has only spurred me forward.

My lovely teacher, Kru Kanika, then took me to the Hospital pharmacy for a brace and topical pain reliever. I sheepishly rode around in a wheelchair upon her insistence, gathered my recovery necessities and was out the door in no time. 

“It’s my pleasure. I am glad to make you convenient and happy, Jade,” were the words from dear Kanika as she sat and waited with me. Nothing warmed my frustrated heart more.

Back at the apartment that night, my ankle in a brace and propped on a pillow, I couldn’t hide my disappointment any longer. I broke down in tears to Kelsey, telling her how I’d obsessively canvased the internet over the past several days for my prognosis, how I’d worried our trainer would think me weak, how I was stupid for not preparing myself for such traumatic exercise, how I felt I would lose the ground I’d gained. Sympathy was what I thought I needed, but she new better, quickly rebuking me for blaming myself and saying that I needed to hush. So with renewed motivation and a different plan of attack, I am resting for 3 weeks.

We worked an English camp at a Technical College this past weekend, and although I moved around and was active much more than I should’ve been, the weekend was worth it. Playing intense versions of Red Rover with 20 year old boys is no easy task. But, as if God-sent, my school is testing this week (my 2nd week of no activity) and they are allowing me to sit out for the duration since only the Thai teachers can administer tests.

I have a much more positive outlook than I did the day I was Googling torn tendons and sitting in a rudimentary doctor’s office. At least on the weekends we are able to watch local Muay Thai fighting so I can get my fix. We’ve been such faithful followers of the local fights that the announcers announce our arrival, and we are graciously ushered ringside, or the splash zone as I like to call it, where one is at risk of being sprinkled with water, sweat and blood. Better than high definition television any day! 

I’m most often a patient person with everyone besides myself, but when it comes to exercising personal patience, I am my harshest critic. But I’m determined to prove myself wrong.

Thai Boxing and Benevolence

“Haa-sip,” our trainer said.

“Wait, is that the number 15 or 50?” I shrugged.

He motioned the number five and then zero with his hands.

“Ohhhh,” both Kelsey and I sighed in exhausted unison. Then, after already an hour and a half of constant (and unexpected) kickboxing, we proceeded to round-house kick the swinging bag of sand fifty times.

I didn’t know what to expect that first day visiting the Muy Thai training camp. Picturing a gym or at least a building of some sort, I had at least resigned myself to the probable absence of air condition. But when we turned onto a winding dirt road and pulled up at a boxing ring in the middle of a densely wooded area, I was speechless. Several sweaty boys in silky boxing shorts were wrestling in the ring, stray dogs wandered around the premises and several flags and old Thai banner hung from the rafters of a crude awning which shaded the ring. One older man in particular, padded around his waist and holding tight to pads in his hands, shouted directions in Thai to the young adult fighters who swung their powerful legs and elbows against the trainers steady grip. They shouted a word or yell of release with each swing, a practice we later learned was used to let loose tension or an “evil spirit.”

Though I would’ve been content enough to watch the power and prowess of the practicing boxers, the older trainer approached us, breaking the trance and beckoned us onto the ring. We looked at one another with a “what the hell” glance, and Kelsey and I climbed the stairs, wriggling awkwardly under the ropes. Nearly two hours later, we stood drenched with sweat having been thrown in the ring, literally, without a clue or an effective means of communication. The older gentleman, we were told, is a retired Muy Thai champion. Having fought in Bangkok and apparently been rather popular in his prime, the trainer now devotes his time to training aspiring young boxers. Their respect for the sport and their trainer is a wonderful thing to watch. How privileged and honored I was to know that such a legend would take time to entertain two foreign girls’ wish to pursue the same.

Muy Thai is a discipline rooted in rich cultural tradition. Last weekend we were able to watch several matches at a location on the outskirts of the city. Several food stands, games and rides were set up in a field, resembling a small fair. Mesmerized by over three hours of back to back boxing matches, we were able to see the ritualistic dances, hear native music and watch the most engaging sport I’ve ever witnessed. It is such a contrasting mix of peaceful, smooth movement and brute, barbaric strength. The fighting magic lies in the powerful shins and knees which are thrown into an opponent’s abdominals and sides. It’s no wonder the boxers have the bodies of Greek gods; they have to be able to withstand incredible trauma for 5 rounds. Arms lock around one another in a weird sort of hug around the neck as the boxers dance around, trying to gain control of the other’s torso. Then, with poised force, they hold their victim in a headlock and send their knees and inner thighs pounding into the opponent’s bare side. Though you can count the specific, rehearsed moves on one hand, I can only imagine that it takes years, if not a lifetime, to master the courage.


Truth be told, if I was thrown into a ring, I would be knocked out in a matter of seconds. If not from scrambling to escape the ring itself, tripping over the ropes and plummeting to the ground below, it would be from unpracticed oblivion. Over and over during each lesson, “Golden Bug” (which is our trainer’s ring name) has to pull my gloved hands above my head to remind me to “bock, bock.” Blocking my head is the least of my worries. I’m trying to perfect the angle of my shin when I kick. See? I would be flattened in half a second. Regardless of this fatal forgetfulness, our kind trainer somehow expressed to us with numbers and a thumbs up that, after only 4 lessons, we are doing well. That, or he is saying there is no hope for us after 4 lessons. Hoping it wasn't the latter, we thanked him profusely. In some way, his confidence and invested time makes me want to work harder. Almost as if to prove I can keep up with the exercises he throws our way.


And can you believe that the lessons are the US equivalent of only 3 dollars per hour? Believe me when I say, I will be out there until either my legs are too bruised to continue or the mosquitoes carry me away. I’m in no way saying I will ever approach a match, God help me, but the fulfillment and strength of mind it give to train in Muy Thai is unlike any other.

I can’t describe the exact feeling during our lesson. The sour smell of sweaty gloves, the rough ring floor rubbing my toes raw, the sweat seeping into my eyes, the stinging slap of my legs on the pad, my quavering muscles after hundreds of kicks, the swarming mosquitoes at sundown, the stage fright of being watched by the smiling faces and sculpted bodies of the young Thai fighters outside the ring, Golden Bug’s grin (whether it is of humor or benevolence) as we give every ounce of ourselves to his commands, interpreting movements and steps with a language barrier. . . I think the best of them all though is driving off on our motorbike, the hot Thai air somehow feeling cool on our sweaty backs, having given the whole of our energy toward bettering our bodies in a boot-camp atmosphere and learning through trial and error the value of discipline, strength and common ground, no matter the culture.

Landmarks and Harry Potter.

        

Nearing a month since our arrival in Thailand, a landmark I can’t believe is already here, I no longer feel like a guest. I feel like a resident. Granted I’m still a foreigner separated by a vast language barrier and still unaccustomed to some of the Thai’s cultural norms, but I feel like a resident nonetheless. Besides the Thai people themselves, I’ve also received a warm and muggy welcome from the mosquitoes. Since we are well underway with rainy season, they’re beginning to rear their Vampirish heads. For some reason, the first few weeks here were itch free, but now that they too have seen that I’m not longer a guest but a resident, the mosquitoes feel inclined to attack. Perhaps I should feel flattered? Maybe the itchy scars on my feet and ankles will become my souvenir. That being said, I am convinced that Hydro cortisone cream doesn’t stop the itch or help with healing. Rather, it just tricks my mind saying, “Do you really want to scratch those bites and get icky cream all over your hands?”

          The mosquitoes have been the least of my worries, though. Having heard recently that I would have to leave our apartment, living arrangements occupied the forefront of my thought. Dr. Nirund, our organization’s director, visited Utaradit this week in hopes to find a place where Kelsey and I both could live. Last Wednesday, as I raced my bike home in the pouring rain to join the apartment hunt and look at a prospective place, I got a text. It was Kelsey saying, “Relax! It’s perfect.” A hotel/apartment complex, not 200 yards away from our current location, had a room available in which we could both stay. God provides. The beds even have real mattresses as opposed to showroom Styrofoam blocks! (features of our current apartment that have caused quite the back ache.) Oh how our mindsets shift when normalcy becomes luxury.

          Hopefully, this will be our last move. Lugging a 50 pound suitcase up 3 flights of stairs is not my idea of fun. Most of all, I’m relieved that we can finally have a place to unpack and officially call our Thai home without fear of uprooting again. I’ve always been the type of person who needs comfort and stability within situations (not in the physical sense regarding material things, but regarding mental and emotional ease.) I still like being a creature of habit, even though those habits include cold showers. Another comforting thing we’ve incorporated into our routine has been reading. When I met Kelsey Crow almost a year ago, one of the first facts I learned about her was her devotion to Harry Potter. Obsession, infatuation and mania don’t describe her loyalty. In her words, she “lives it.” So imagine my predicament, when I, an otherwise well-read English graduate, had to hang my head and say, “No, I’ve never read Harry Potter, nor have I seen the movies.” So, here I am, over a decade following the pandemonium, enjoying and being captivated by the Harry Potter series, somehow still completely unaware of their outcome. And that’s not the best part. Kels is reading them aloud, a treat complete with various accents, inflection, discussion topics, question & answer sessions and an anticipating voice (one that knows all the secrets and won’t answer my incessant questions!) We plan to read a book, watch its movie, etc. Every day, I can’t wait to get home for our reading sessions. I’m not sure who enjoys it more. Kesley, reading to a Potter novice, or me, listening to a Potter expert.

          As enticing as Harry Potter is, we always canvas the city for dinner first before returning home. We’ve grown accustomed to several places, knowing exactly what pictures to point to and what to expect when we’re handed a plate. This week though, one of the girls from my school came home to spend the afternoon with us. Nook, a girl who isn't even in any of my classes, struck up a conversation with me one day, and we've been buddies ever since. Funny how the only girl I knew before we left Lampang was also named Nook. Anyhow, the rain was falling in heavy sheets the second we left school. We floated up to our apartment and waited for the storm to pass before heading out to dinner. Finally, sporting our ponchos, jackets and umbrellas, we made the short trek to town. This would be the first time we had a native Thai speaker along to interpret the menus. After I told Nook the ingredients I liked, the cook arrived with a bowl of the yummiest Thai food I'd had all week, Tom Yum Gung. This soup is filled with shrimp, fish, lemon grass, lime leaves and coconut milk, combining an authentic mixture of spice, sweet, sour and salt. Masterpiece in a bowl. After dinner, I listened as Nook communicated with the store owner. The sweet man snagged a University passer-by and had him write something on a sheet of paper. After a few moments, the store owner returned with the menu's Thai scrawl translated into English so we could order for ourselves. We bowed our heads and thanked him profusely. We will most definitely be back to visit such an accommodating food stand as this one.

          Another naughty food we've discovered is Thai ice cream. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the supposed best one in the city is only steps from our apartment. Thai ice cream as a unique texture, but it is more-so famous for it's queer toppings. Even "toppings" isn't a technically accurate term considering that the extras are put at the bottom of the bowl. Candied pumpkin, kernels of corn, a mysterious black jelly, pinwheels of fruit that resemble mushrooms, and several other identifiable things. I find myself searching for the Oreos and Butterfinger but to no avail. Thankfully, we've discovered a topping (or bottomer?) that surpasses even m&m's and cookie dough. And that, my friends, is sweet sticky rice. Sweet rice, died the color blue, topped with tiny scoops of coconut ice cream, a splash of sweetened condensed milk and peanuts create the most palatable dessert on the planet. It was worth the price of the plane ticket, folks.

          Unless you join me here in Thailand (Something you should consider doing. Start saving now. I will be here one year!) you can never quite grasp what we see each day. Short of strapping a camera on my head as we walk down the crowded streets, markets and hallways of our classrooms, you can never understand the things we see. Not necessarily all are shocking, but a lot of them are. Everything from fashion, to transportation, to lifestyle, to cleanliness, to stray dogs, to the little girls with whom I spend my day. . . 

It is drastically different. 

          Though this culture shock leaves my head spinning most days, I'm brought to a complete halt when I check my email to find that Noon has emailed me again to practice her English, apologizing for her poor grammar before each farewell. "If I use what is wrong because I had speak little English. Don't forget write me back. Love Noon."

          Or when Poppy, another sweet student crawls into my office, sits at my feet and asks to sing Jason Mraz with me. Turning on the song and somehow hearing every English word clearly through the mouth of a child who can't otherwise communicate with me, is a humbling thing, and I can't begin to describe how my heart feels afterward

Sweet Pork & Cold Showers.

With week two of Uttaradit life in the books, I couldn’t be more content. My classes have fallen into a steady routine, and surprisingly, I’m beginning to recognize some faces amongst the masses. I’ve been fortunate enough to be surrounded by kind and enthusiastic co-workers, both foreign and native to Thailand. Steve, one of my co-teachers and 5 year resident of Thailand, is a robust and brash Brit from northern England. Ray, the petite South African biology teacher, whose accent is a mixture of British, African and “fabulous, ” entertains the office all day with his antics, complaints about the heat and his quest for chick flicks that make him cry. Nancy, one of the Thai department  directors, brings me breakfast nearly every day. I’m spoiled to the fruit, potatoes and sweet pork she so graciously brings to me.

Going off on a quick tangent, sweet pork and sticky rice has become one of my favorite Thai tastes. And this is truly a feat, being that I usually avoid any pig products. Sweet, tangy strips of pulled pork formed beside a ball of chewy, hot rice is my new weakness. After tasting it for the first time, I asked Nancy for directions to the particular food stand. Granted, searching for specific stands in Thailand is akin to looking for a needle in a haystack while blindfolded, but sweet pork is and will always be worth the trek.

After school one day this week, Kelsey and I decided to decipher the map Nancy had drawn out and attempt to find the pork stand. Since our destination was too far to travel on foot, we decided to take my bike through the traffic- again, a risk worth taking.

Digressing a little - Last weekend, I jokingly suggested we both hop aboard my bike and travel the back roads near our apartment. The narrow, grated “seat” over the back wheel, probably more commonly used as a place to carry books, now serves as a place to carry a passenger. One evening, waiting until the sun set so as not to be embarrassed, we attempted the balancing act. First I then Kelsey tried peddling while the other sat on the back “seat,” holding on for dear life and frantically trying to find a place for feet to rest without getting tangled in the spinning rungs. I can’t remember a time I laughed so hard- that silent laugh where you’re trying desperately to catch your breath. After several wobbly starts, we became rather adept with this new skill of balancing. Although it looks hilarious, we seem to fit in with this “see how many people we can cram onto one mode of transportation” Asian culture.

Back to Operation Pork. We decided to cover more ground and bike instead of walk. On the way though, we were distracted by an outdoor gym on a street corner where chiseled Thais were tangled in a mess of Thai boxing. Beckoning us to come watch, the boys began to show off, throwing one another across the ring. We attempted to communicate and ask if they would teach us, but their English began and ended with a hello and a friendly wave. We continued watching. In the meantime though, storm clouds brewed, and rain began to fall. Rain spontaneously erupts here, and the droplets are unusually large, and they fall in heavy sheets. Just one drop can hit you in the face, and it splashes with a sting. Still determined, we donned our rain gear and hopped on the bike. Three intersections, several curves and two turns later, we arrive safe and luckily unscathed. Kelsey traversed the Thai traffic with stellar ease, and I, having found a place for my feet was able to make trip a more aerodynamic one.  Long story summarized, we did not find the pork, but we found a new spot in town and food just as yummy.

This week at Daruni school, we had a special ceremony called "Wan Kru" dedicated to teacher appreciation. With their daily admiration and respect already at such a humbling level, I was shocked to be part of such a day as this one. For days, the students created flower arrangements, weaving leaves and buds in intricate patterns. Candles and sprigs of flower or carved fruit adorned each pot, and the children carried them around proudly. Since there are so many enrolled at Daruni, we had three separate ceremonies, each with over 1,000 kids participating. Sitting on the stage with other teachers, I watched as row after row after row of Thai students, knelt and bowed and sang to us. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced. Then, with flowers in hand, they shuffled on their knees toward the row of teachers, flattened themselves into a bow and gave their prized arrangements away. Even though the event was designed mainly for Thai teachers, I was still bombarded by my M-3 students and showered with flowers. Jasmine ropes were woven with small pink roses, folded leaves shaped like envelopes held orange flowers, candles and incense sticks, and golden pots were bursting with color. My face literally hurts from the smiles I returned and the many pictures I took with my kids, some of whom I didn't even know. I was, however, proud that I recalled a cohort of M-3s named Kik, Yok and Nice.

Earlier this week, as I sat eating boiled eggs from a little bag, barbecued meat on a stick (chicken, but I'm not sure which part), some nondescript casserole wrapped in leaf, a cake with black beans and rice drenched in coconut milk, I had a thought. And at risk of sounding too cheeky, I will say, I don’t know many people willing or brave enough to eat such things. And it's not just eating quirky things, riding a bike in the rain through crazy Thai traffic or exploring new places that enthrall me, but it's undergoing the challenge of this new life altogether. And I’m thankful to be spending it with a fellow traveler as much if not more zealous to embrace this new adventure as I am.

It seems as though what was customary back home, mere routine, has become necessity. For example, I won’t have a hot shower for a year, but I enjoy the cold shower because it cools me off after a insanely hot day and because I really need it. To spare yucky details, I will just say that even if I took 2 showers daily, I would still feel sort of dirty. The heat, humidity, dust, bugs, walking, climbing stairs, riding bikes, trudging through rain and other daily tasks require impeccable hygienic attention. Melting immediately, my makeup, deodorant, body spray, hair products and any other attempt at freshening up are scoffed at by the Thai climate. When I eat, the meals are portion controlled (in a bag or on a stick), and I eat because I am, most often times, truly hungry. When I ride my bike, it isn't just for exercise, pleasure or from sheer boredom, it is because peddling is my only way to get to school. When I speak or smile to the Thai people or my children, it's not polite habit, it is an appreciated learning experience.

Basically, at the end of each day, I sleep well knowing that each task, each step, each bite of food, each word, each smile was necessary. Learning that daily life shouldn't be a rut or a routine has been the most valuable aspect of my journey thus far, and I feel more fulfilled than I ever have in my life.

Good Morning Teacher Jade

It's currently 9 AM, and the school office doesn't turn on the air condition until 10. I will pass the time at my desk under this swaying fan and describe my whirlwind of a week.
The weekend began with some uncertainty as we learned that the Bunyawatt School in Lampang could no longer employ us due to funding disputes. In a matter of 48 hours, we were placed elsewhere. Utaradit, a smaller town 2 hours south, was in need of more "forang," foreign people, so rather than compromise the integrity of our corporation and pay high taxes in Lampang, we moved to a city with greater appreciation and need. Kelsey and I have been placed in separate schools, but we live in the same apartment. A sigh of relief... For now...

Before the move though, we were able to visit the Elephant Conservation Center, an expedition with fellow teachers we had missed. Hopping in the back of a Taxi truck, we and our spunky language coach and young friend named Nook, started up the mountain. After being driven on a tour bus up the mountain, a near jungle safari in itself, we arrived at the show grounds where ten elephants with trained riders paraded around performing tricks, rolling logs and painting elaborate pictures with their trunks. They bowed graciously to the crowd. It brought tears to my eyes to see these gentle giants so willingly perform.
When the show was over, we greeted the elephants who only nuzzled us long enough to discover that we had no food. Their huge brown eyes were so aware, so kind & so wise.
Next, we hopped aboard the back of an elephant for a real safari. The crude seating on the creature's back rocked a dangerous amount as he ambled carefully into the water. I cringed, hoping we wouldn't topple into the murky water below. I relaxed though. Because after all, I was traveling on the most majestic and memorable of transportation. Serenity was broken though when a flapping, airy noise (akin to a frustrated horse) sounded behind us. Our safari "driver" with his straw hat and tunic turned to us with a crooked, toothy grin. "That you? That you?" he jested.
Yes, elephants have massive gas.
We continued on our journey, the scenery of which resembled a scene from Kipling's Jungle Book.

On the way home we stopped at a market for lunch. Having only witnessed a few of these, I was overwhelmed by the rows of raw meat, pickled vegetable, fresh fruit, sausage on a stick and thousands of other delicacies. The US Health Department would have had a fit, but I ate anyway. People walked around with soup and noodles in bags, sipping the contents with a straw. Balls of sticky rice were scooped into plastic baggies, people nibbling those as they walked too.

Back at the apartment, our bags were packed to move to Uturadit. Open arms and smiling faces greeted us as we boarded the school bus. We were on our way. Attempting to nap while a Thai drives a vehicle is an absurd undertaking. The roads are a free-for-all here. Cars speed at least 30 miles per hour over the speed limit, leap frogging one another and passing 4 or 5 cars at a time around a mountainous curves. The threat of head on collisions are not feared because on-coming traffic will just run off the road and let them pass (much to the dismay of motor bikes who traverse the shoulders.)


This new apartment makes our previous place in Lampang seem uncivilized. To be honest, it was. Holes in the ceiling, no AC, no hot water and basically unfurnished. Our new apartment is completely opposite, but because it is sponsored by Kelsey's school, I am at risk of having to move- a problem we hope to overcome with Dr. Nirund's "poo-yai" or seniority that is highly respected. I hope so, anyway. Kels and I are a team.

Today is my third day at Uturadit Duranee School. My first day was ultimate culture shock as 2,500 girls swarmed about a college sized campus. Yes, my school is an all girl school, with the exception of about 50 extremely out of place (or lucky) boys. Until the day I leave, I will never be accustomed to their respectful terror. I walk by, and the dear girls bow and cringe at the sight of me. They smile and put their hands up in prayerful admiration and even bow on their knees at a teacher's desk. Their level of respect cannot be matched. The first day, I had to introduce myself at assembly in front of the whole school. If that didn't cure stage fright, I'm hopeless. I stood there with a microphone, looking out over a field of children lined in perfect rows and dressed in perfect uniform. What a sight it was.

Today was my first day to teach on my own, and I was anxious. In interest of time, I won't explain the Thai grade system, but I am teaching Mathayom 3, which consists of 14 and 15 year old girls. I crept into my class and saw 50 pairs of glistening black eyes staring at me and just as many smiles and gracious nods. They stood up, and in unison say, "Good Morning Teacher Jade." By the way, after several failed attempts at explaining and pronouncing my name, I am known as and called Jade. It's actually fun to have a Thai alias, and it's especially fun to hear my name called across campus by a group of giggling girls.

Today was just an intro. I will only teach these girls once a week since I am teaching 12 levels of Mathayom 3's, and even though there is no hope of remembering names, I asked the girls to introduce themselves. Names like Bamboo, Ploy, Mai, Bow and CD are among them. I reviewed basic conversation, we played games and practice questions such as "How are you?" and "How old are you?" The girls are smarter and more advanced than I had imagined, so I will have my work cut out for me as I try to plan adequate amounts to entertain their hungry minds.
As of now, I still have celebrity status. I've been in pictures, given out my email and explained why I have 2 different colors of hair at least a billion times. I hope their admiration continues because I know that it will only reflect itself in the classroom. Their attentiveness in impeccable, but their confidence is lacking. I know we will learn a lot from one another.

In my first M-3 class, I had them write their name and a few fun facts about themselves. After the lesson, as I gathered the papers, I couldn't help but be choked up by their honest and innocent answers. Some loved Rihanna, others Lady Gaga. Some dreamed of visiting America, others had an insatiable desire to learn English. One paper specifically that caught my eye, and a recurring scenario that is all too true in this county, said, "My family is poor but we are happy because everyone love."

That's what it's all about after all, right? I love these kids.

Lizards in Lampang

Only 3 days into my stay here in Thailand, and I feel as if even a blog each day won’t cover the details. Our arrival was met with such hospitality and day one was a blur of orientation and exhaustion. We were ushered around Dr. Nirund’s campus and then taken to a Farewell Dinner in the city, where the teachers all went their separate ways. Children from local schools danced for us in traditional Thai dress and fashion. It was absolutely wonderful. Though it was a memorable night, I could barely hold my eyes open because of lack of sleep. 

After the ceremony, our transportation came to take us back to our on campus town houses. And by transportation, I mean a pickup truck with a roof over the bed and a row of seats. Rode rules are merely myths here. Motorbikes with an unsafe amount of passengers dart in and out of traffic, the roads have no lines, there are no speed limits and basically, you travel at your own risk.

Our apartment is basic. The two story jungle home in Lampang is complete with live lizard decor, running water, a broken air condition and swiveling fan. Home sweet home. On paper these things sound so rudimentary and miserable, but really, learning to live our of my comfort zone and accepting and embracing the culture has made me happier than one could imagine. It is a real accomplishment. 

We’ve had a few language lessons, but speaking Thai will be a daunting task because their vocabulary is 90% tonal. One word could mean 7 different things depending on inflection. Regardless, we’ve learned the important things like “Hello,” “Thank you,” and “Little bit of spice.”

Unfortunately we were told yesterday that our school is having a funding dispute, and we may not be able to teach there. What that could mean for our future stay, I’m not sure, but I know we will be in good hands and good spirits either way. I really hope we can stay here though because I’ve become acclimated to this area, the people and I’m thrilled to have the chance to be involved with the Bunyawatt school which has over 4000 students enrolled.

With no school until Tuesday, we have the weekend ahead of us to explore and perhaps visit the elephant conservation. So many things await us, but I can’t get impatient, because we have an extended stay!

There are so many ornate events in this country, and I can’t wait to be a part of each. In November, there are Lotus flower ceremonies in which flowers and candles set sail on the river to honor the river goddess and beg her forgiveness for any disrespect they’ve shown. In Chiang Mai, there is breathtaking lantern releasing ceremony where thousands of candle lanterns float into the sky and disappear, creating a flickering, starry sky.

One thing is for sure, Thais are a peaceful and appreciative people. They may not ever be on time or adhere to schedules, but their heart is brimming with kindness. I ran into a couple of older Thai women in the bathroom yesterday who didn’t speak very good English. Trying to be polite, I bowed and respectfully greeted one of the ladies who was cleaning the bathroom. She continued mopping, but then disappeared for a few seconds. I was washing my hands when she came back, and I turned to smile at her. 

In broken English she said, “My friend teach me say that you are beautiful girl.”

“Kap-Khun-Ka,” I said, grateful to have remembered a thankful term.

It brought tears to my eyes that she would rush away to ask her friend how to give me, a stranger, an undeserved compliment, when she had no idea who I was. Pure, innocent kindness is so refreshing, and it gives me the desire and drive to learn just enough Thai so that I can return such hospitality.

First Class Arrival

TOKYO

As I type this blog, I am 7 hours deep into my flight to Tokyo. Under normal circumstances, I would probably be experiencing cabin fever, but we were lucky enough to be dealt extraordinary circumstances. After a blurry, rushed morning, Kelsey and I and all of our family reached gate F2 in hopes that we would get a seat on this flight. Flying standby is risky. Whether we were separated in coach or flying first class, we didn’t care, we just wanted to be in the air. After the Delta agent worked silently on his computer and tons of people boarded, we still stood holding our breath.

“Good news,” he said handing us two boarding passes. “You two are flying first class side by side.”

Tears started flowing. Weeks of accumulated stress and work and worry had finally culminated into the most perfect start to our journey, VIP style. I hugged Kels in happiness, relief and shared congratulations for our long road of preparation ending in a job well done. 

Tears continued as the line trickled away and they called our name for final boarding. There stood my beautiful family, who, for the next 10 months, I will only see on my computer screen. I hugged my daddy first, and when he said, “I love you baby,” I couldn’t hold back. My mom, who had begged me not to cry, was next. You don’t realize how prominent a person’s presence is in your life until you’re saying goodbye. My sister was next and this was especially heart-wrenching because I will be gone for her first college experiences. But I expect to be getting email attachments to edit, and I couldn’t be more eager to help her from half way across the globe.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, we rolled our carry on bags through the gate and turned around for one last wave. Through the foggy tears, I tried to meet eyes with each member of my family and hold onto their gaze, taking it with me.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Kelsey reassured me like she always does.

And here I am, reclined in a roomy seat with hundreds of movies at my fingertips, pillows, slippers, headphones and all the free champagne I want! After a four course meal and a glass of wine, I settled back, sort of wishing the flight was longer than fourteen hours. I am 35,000 feet in the air and as close to heaven as I’ve ever been. And closer to Russia too because we just crossed the International Dateline.

BANGKOK

Sitting through a long layover in Tokyo, we were finally called to the desk to get our tickets. After having flown in the most prestigious of first class seating, moving to separate coach seats would be a sad downgrade. Luckily though, we got our tickets (which happened to be beside one another) and made our way to the back of the line.

Moments later an agent held up sign beckoning “premium” riders to a non-existent line. We looked at our tickets, saw the word premium, and wandered toward the gate, daring not look at each other for fear of jinxing what we thought to be true. We bypassed the line and went through a gate that ushered us into yet another first class flight. We were speechless. Sprawling out on our expanding seats after a nice dinner of veal and champagne, we slept contentedly for the next 5 hours, only waking up 15 minutes before the plane wheels touched down in Thailand. 

Here I sit, in the Bangkok airport, still not believing our first class experience and waiting patiently for the ticket counter to open for our next and final flight to Lampang. It’s nearly 2 am here, so we decided to find some chairs to get a little sleep until our flight at 6 am. Being spoiled to a bed, I couldn’t drift off on these cold metal chairs, so I grabbed a sweater and began watching passersby. Then, out of nowhere, two extremely trendy Thai guys wandered toward me, and in broken English, asked for a picture. I smiled and reached for the camera to snap their picture, but they shook their heads. One of the boys came over to me, put his arm around my shoulder and threw up a peace sign. Shocked, I smiled toward the iPhone, and we took a picture together. Then they switched, and I got a picture with the other. I’d like to think the picture was because I looked super American, and they thought of the snapshot as a souvenir, but if it was at my expense because of my disheveled hair and makeup, I wouldn’t mind. Maybe this sort of admiration (or harmless gawking) will continue- It’s nice to feel appreciated, even if it is just for a random picture with an Asian guy.