Being the backpacker...

April 29th, 2012

Well, here I am again, packing my bags.  I have one more night in my apartment in downtown BKK.  It's been over year since my first post, and I can still remember that morning when I woke up in Phuket, Thailand.  In fact, I feel like I can remember this entire experience in such vivid detail.  I came, I taught some English to wonderful Thai students, I learned some Thai, I trained some Muay Thai, I motorbiked in six different regions of the country, I met a lot of good and interesting people from all over the world, I tried a lot of new delicious food, got too many tattoos, I saw beaches and mountains, I saw different kinds of animals, I relaxed, I cooked, I canoed, I hiked, I sweat... in short, I was steeped in the intercultural shit.  And yeah, a few bad things happen here and there: flooding, food poisoning, motorbike accidents, general chaos.  But it's been a true reward for me to be here.  My character is the stronger for it.  I'm happy to be going home to see my family, and I miss them terribly when I am gone, but they also give me the strength to get up and go see the world without fear.  Maybe it takes a certain kind of character to be a traveler.  Perhaps I need to admit that it's not for everyone.  But I wish it was.  I wish everyone would travel - and in many ways, everyone does.  But it's the cultural exchange I value most behind family and education.  Cultural exchange is education.  Travel is an opening of yourself to something new, something mysterious.  And when you spend a year of your life in the thick of it, the unfamiliarity of it all disappears.  You adapt. You change. You learn. I truly believe anyone can do that, just as anyone can learn a language.  People fear what is different.  But put yourself in the difference and see what happens.  Instead of fearing, you understand.  This year for me has been the most incredible crash course in Asian culture, and I will never know everything, but I can keep studying, and now it's not so foreign to me.  It's a part of me. Cultures are different, but everywhere I go, people are the same.  They all love and fight and fuck.  As the Thais say, "Same same, but different."  :)

Where did that five months go?

Written a long while ago…

Stream of consciousness, disclose, dismiss, kiss the sky, let the zeppelin fly, no more motorbike rides, I have to drive my mind, adventures of an altogether dissimilar kind, surfing circles of alternate design, pulling me closer to the city shrines, pillars supporting such spirits divine they pass from old worlds into new times. 

This country is wet with muggy intent, smell the sweat sent on breezes, the scent hard work squeezes from sewing rice fields in hot seasons when the swell is high, and the walls might bust to let the river run by, as it will, and it must, trust the hot sun, hot rains, mosquitoes eggs hatching in drains, street cats complain with groans like a baby, crying out in the night, screams sharp as the piercing light of morning sneaking inside, sneaking around, sneaking and creeping the mud-slathered ground, crawls like a snake without a sound, belly bottom, river-bound. 

Iced coffee stands and ice-cream carts, an engine starts and stalls next to the rounding walls ready to fall with the weight of water.  Humidity makes everything hotter, and clusters of mud line canals, the valves force open.  A monk sits smokin’ in orange robes probing the scene like a dream you foresee in some empty midnight reverie. 

Written a little less than a long while ago…

DIFFERENT DAY, MO CHIT.

Oops, I slipped into one of those no writing phases, kind of forgot about this here blog, crazy how life sneaks up on you like that.  I might consider myself a real writer if I had the discipline for it, to really write everyday and work that creative muscle inside. But it’s a work in progress, building these so called talents of ours, isn’t it?  These days I am spending more time strengthening my physical body and focusing on refining my Muay Thai technique.  I started about three years ago, have been training off and on, not really considering competition, but the opportunity to actually train in Thailand is one of the coolest experiences I’ve had, and there comes a time when practice is over and skills must be tested in performance.  I think it’s interesting that I’ve never had a real fight my whole life with anyone, and now the first one I am going to have is actually a real fight, referee, ring, spectators, lights, music, red corner, blue corner kind of real fight.  And the bell, BOOM, POW, comic book style.  My trainers taught me the traditional pre-match Thai dance today, so hopefully I don’t screw that up.  It could be culturally insulting if I do.  I wonder if people will be taking bets on me...

Written soon after a little less than a long while ago…

The Past:

I show up to training and they tell me the fight next week is cancelled but I could fight the next day.  I said ok.  They taught me the Wai Kru dance that day and had me practice until I got it right.  I just learned a very basic approach.  It was easy to learn, but it can be very complex when you see it performed by seasoned professionals.  Every fighter has a personal style.  I show up the next day, on time, outside of this Asian urban mall where they have built a ring outside next to the Skytrain.  People on the street gather around and some are above watching down, as the traffic goes by on the road.  There are some cheap white tent roofs off to the side – one of the promoters recognizes me and has me register, and points at the Thai girl I will be fighting, who was a few steps away.  I was thinking,  “Hello, well I guess we are about to fight, this is awkward.”  He gives me the uniform, I go into the mall bathroom to change. Also kind of awkward.  In typical Thai style, my trainers don’t show up for another 35 minutes.  I’m not sure what to do, I’m kind of jumping around, trying to find ways to warm up in my flippie floppies on cement outside this mall where people are walking by and staring at me or taking pictures of me.  When they arrive, they wrap my wrists, and rub my whole body down with this syrupy orange liquid that feels a lot like tiger balm, and they rub it deep and hard into all my muscles until I feel tingly all over.  I’m all oiled up and then they rub some other stuff on my face, not sure what that was.  By now I have everything on, I’m warming up, people are taking pictures, I’m freaking out, and its about to start.  Next thing I know, it’s over.  All I can really say is, I got tired much faster than I thought I would, I suck at blocking continuous wild punches, and lucky for me she gave up right at the end and just kind of let me knock her down.  The whole thing was really surreal, it was actually a bit difficult to focus on the fight, my mind was all over the place.  I was pretty happy when it was over, some random people came up and told me good job or wanted to get a picture with me – which always feels a little strange.  But it was a fun and interesting experience.  Still trying to figure out how I feel about it, and if it’s something I want to pursue further or not. 

The Present (actually semi-recent past)

Wake up just fine, a few birds outside, wash my face and dress.  The clouds are bright, the day is as cool as tropical gets.  Head out the door to meet a friend, cross the foot bridge, turn the corner to Rangnam and find my favorite motorbike taxi stand.  They hang out near the gas station / grilled salt fish restaurant.  Their bright orange jackets are easy to spot.  Sometimes they are all busy and I have to wait.  But usually, when I walk up there is a group of them, some wearing face masks to protect themselves from the sun and pollution, but personally I don’t know how they stand to wear so many clothes in the heat.  They don’t speak English. I don’t speak Thai.  So our communication is special.  One guy wants my watch so he always points to his to indicate that some trade should be made.  I want to give it to him, but my mom gave it to me at the airport right before I left and I wear it everyday.  Too much sentimental value.  But they always know exactly where I want to go, I don’t have to say anything, same spot every time, a 10 baht ride down the road to the skytrain/shopping mall area.  That’s about 35 cents to save 10 minutes of walking.  Everybody uses motorbike taxis here.  Thais are kind of lazy when it comes to certain things, but not all of them, of course.  I have seen people load up entire food stalls and three loads of laundry on a single motorbike.  And unfortunately, none of the drivers carry around spare helmets, so most passengers have to ride without. I sure don’t want to carry a helmet around all day for the 1 minute motorbike ride I take in the morning, and nobody else does either.  Technically, yes, it’s not legal to do that here.  Does that mean the law is enforced? Hell no.  Traffic here is pretty much a free for all, muck like the Twisted Metal video game, people race however they want.  Accidents will happen.  If I am going to work, I might be wearing a skirt, which means I have to hop on the back of the bike and ride side saddle.  I always hold on tight – sometimes they can stop so abruptly because traffic is crazy and so many drivers here are idiots.  Yes, it still scares me.  But it’s also kind of fun.  They have made me want to learn how to drive a motorcycle.  Or maybe I will start with a dirt bike.  And always wear a helmet.  Seriously, it’s an issue over here.  I wish I could implement more helmet wearing here, but it’s just not the Thai way. 

I buy a dollar ham and cheese croissant from some place in the mall, eat it as I wait for my friend to arrive and return some movies he borrowed.  Then he has to rush to work.  I down some water, and walk back the way I came, stop at a nice little coffee shop with tables outside and order a hot Americano with milk and sugar.  She brings steamed milk, regular sugar and brown sugar.  I sit and read several chapters of Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore, a very strange and kind of morbidly interesting novel so far.  I like it.  My Kindle battery is exhausted, so I pay for my coffee, and start walking.  I pass through some street stalls and restaurants, loads of Thai people sitting at cheap square tables set up right there on the road, outside the 7/11s and sunglass shops.  The smells can be irresistible.  Garlic, pork, chillies cooking in oil on the giant flame of a rather small, highly portable propane stove.  And the cook is using a large, well worn wok to mix the ingredients, adjusting the heat as necessary, cleaning it between orders, and then throwing in the foods prepared for him in little cups by another lady.  She takes orders and chops vegetables and lays out the right foods for each order.  The stall has about 2-3 cooks just cooking non-stop.  Easily one of the few situations in which I’ve observed Thai people sweating.  I have to be careful as I walk through, the sidewalks are made from square foot stone slabs that have caved in here and there, some are loose, you have to watch where you step.  Every now and then the ground will be wet with hose water, or old dish water, spit, there could be crushed cockroaches, living cockroaches, piles of trash.  You kind of get used to all that stuff, and you just step over or around it.  You get used to the good and the grotesque juxtaposing.  I go to the post office right down my street and buy a big box and take it home. 

Normally on this day I would go to train at the gym, but my ankle is still sore from the fight, and I want to give my knee a good rest – I strained it last week and I cant afford to hurt my knees since my ACL surgery so many years ago.  It still haunts my dreams.  Taking care of my knees is one of my highest priorities.  But if I were going, I would walk about ten minutes to the north, on a back soi past a temple, soup stalls, grilled meat and seafood stalls, fruit stalls with fresh bananas, pineapple, coconuts ready for drinking, rambutan, papaya, watermelon, everything.  I go past the steak cart, to the main road, cross the footbridge to catch the number 92 bus to my gym.  When I get off I have to cross an even larger highway foot bridge and take a small songtheaw, a little truck taxi, all the way to the gym.  I warm up with lots of jumping rope, pushups, situps, lunges, squats, shadowboxing and stretching.  The gym has a roof but no walls, so it’s sort of like being outside in the shade. It gets hot. You have to drink a ton of water.  They keep it in a cooler and have to continuously add big blocks of ice.  The trainer will come and wrap my wrists after I warm up, in a very specific way, and each trainer does it a little differently.  But they all double up the padding on the knuckles, and wrap it between each individual finger for maximum tightness and protection.   After this I would go into the ring and do some padwork with my main trainer Berm (pronounced Bum).  We do about 4 rounds of 3-5 minutes, as much kicking and punching and blocking as I can handle.  During breaks he will put a cup of water up for me to drink, because the gloves are tied on tight, and pour water over my head, shoulders, on top of my head.  Sometimes he will massage my arms, stretch out my legs and arms, and sprinkle water on the mat for better traction, as we are barefoot.  After that someone else comes in the ring to go rounds and I continue to do a battery of exercises: curls, pushups, situps, squats, lunges, leg raises, kicks, leg blocks, sometimes I get on the bag and practice knees, practice clinching, or punch the giant tire.  I always finish with lots of stretching, a little light yoga.  I take a shower, and catch the bus back.  

On other days I go to work.  It takes me as little as 30 minutes to shower, dress, and do my makeup before I take my daily motorbike ride to the vans.  Recently I am obsessed with buying breakfast at Mr. Bun, where I can get these little coconut buns, or vanilla Mexican buns with chocolate chips, or little sausage croissants for cheap.  I wash them down with an iced green or black tea sweetened with condensed milk.  I hop on the minivan, throw on my headphones, and chill for about 40 minutes until it stops in Rangsit at the Future Park/Major Cineplex area.  My workplace is very nice, small, charming, very clean, all the walls are glass windows, white and blue, clean cut, air-conditioned.  It’s a great environment for staff and students.  Teaching at a language school is completely different than working at a Thai high school.  Administration is in overdrive, it’s American owned and operated, the marketing department is one of the largest sectors of the company.  It is a well organized educational service lending provider.  I am not even a teacher, my exact position is English Consultant.  The method of teaching here is both uniform and flexible, sometimes easy, other times challenging.  I love my students, they are all between the ages of 15-50 something.  I meet some very interesting people and get to have funny conversations while evaluating their English and giving them feedback.  It’s a pretty sweet gig, and it pays a lot more.  I have to work weekends, but it’s a lot of fun and I don’t really mind, and I don’t have to grade any papers.  I’m quite happy with my decision.  I really enjoy the people I work with, and I seem to be having a lot more great days than bad days these days.

But today, I just do about an hour of Yoga, pop in the video, follow along and breathe.  You can’t forget to breathe.  Tonight I have a skype date with a great friend and Sushi with more awesome people!

FUTURE (actually more recent than the present semi-recent past)

I am returning state side in three and a half months.  I’m in a really great place over here right now, but the benefits being what they are, I just don’t see it as a spot to settle down and make a life.  Not for me.  Not yet.  I’m excited to go home and hold still for a little while, and I am so proud that I came here, and that I made this crazy journey, that I threw myself into a totally different experience.  I learned so much, I have so much to keep and remember.  The world is beautiful, and ugly, and big, and small, and everything, and nothing. Traveling is a character building passion of mine, but it’s hard to be away from all the people I love the most.  Knowing that I’m leaving makes me appreciate my time here as often as possible.  Here is a list of things, so far, that I will and will not miss. 

I WILL MISS:

Easy to find, cheap variety of massages.

Authentic spicy Thai food on the street for a dollar.

99% of Thai people, who are so generous, relaxed, and always smiling.

My job and my students.  Teaching here has been so fun, and lately, so rewarding for me. 

The mass availability of products and shopping, both real and knock-off.

Iced drinks, especially iced black tea topped with condensed milk, or chai dtam nom yen.

The climate. I love being warm all the time, but it doesn’t stop me from complaining about sweating through my clothes before I get to work. 

Baby elephants.

MOTORBIKES!

Dtuk dtuks, and general ease of cheap transportation

Giant urban shopping malls that are actually cool to hang out in. And well air-conditioned.

THE BEACH

7-11s.  They are life and death over here. 

Not having to tip, usually.

Chunky adorable Thai and/or Chinese babies – this should probably be higher up on the list, do not underestimate my affinity for adorable chunky Thai and/or Chinese babies in little Thai or Chinese clothes.  They are so effing cute I can’t even stand it.  Seriously considering adopting if and when I’m ready for kids.

I WILL NOT MISS:

Food that contains bones, or seafood straight from the sea, eyeballs, antennae and all.

Complete and utter disorder in almost all departments of daily living. 

Being scammed, or generally charged more for things for being white / farang

Seeing so many homeless and poor.  It’s important and necessary to see, but it makes me sad. It also makes me feel thankful.  As poor as I feel in America, is how rich I feel out here.  The range between having and not having is enormous, but I’ve also seen a lot of happiness in this land.  Materialism exists alongside a world of spirits, the convergence of ultimate and trivial.  Thai culture somehow escapes logical deconstruction.  The longer I am here, the less I understand it. 

COCKROACHES!

MOSQUITOS!

ANTS!

POLLUTION.

TRAFFIC.

Dirty beaches.

The trash situation in general here. Kind of gross. 

Which brings us to, RATS!

Crappy beer and liquor.  Also, you might pay $20 for the worst dirty martini you’ve ever tasted.  When you ask for more olive juice, and they say they don’t have any, leave.

The sidewalks lined with tile that become slip n’ slides when it pours rain.  Not as fun as you might think. 

Grease face.  Side effect of humidity. 

Brand spanking new entry (actually written just now, midnight, March 16^th 2012)

I leave in two months. Why haven’t I posted any of this crap yet? What’s the point of blogging if you only post like six pages every two months?  This blog was kind of like a test run for me, to see if I like it, if I could keep up with it.  I think I’ve failed.  I fell out of the habit.  I don’t know, I just stopped writing when the floods happened.  And a lot of things happened during that time, and they stopped a lot of other things from happening.  Everything just sort of slowed down, and I didn’t want to write about it, because I didn’t know how to explain it.  And there are a lot of complicated factors at work in my experience during that difficult time in Thai history, and I’m not really qualified or at liberty to discuss my opinion of the politics involved.  I can say that it was a sad, difficult time for so many Thai families displaced by the water.  It was hard on everything.  And I can say that I wasn’t feeling my best those few months either. I had nothing in my apartment yet, and nobody I knew; I had a job but the school was flooded, nobody knew when we might start again.  Couldn’t train, couldn’t take Thai lessons. With the flood, new city, few friends, trying to conserve money, volunteering and seeing the damage, I felt down and alone every night when I went home. The volunteering was not well organized, sometimes I felt a bit useless with nobody handing me tasks to help with, and I don’t speak the language.  But there were so many people and they were helping with smiles on their faces, and everyone was glad to be there helping, even if it wasn’t the most efficient use of each person’s abilities to assist in a speedy recovery.  It was incredible, and uplifting, yet sadly not enough of a relief effort for what the people needed.  For what they still need.  The flooding needs to be controlled. 

Anyway, I was keeping all this crap so I could go through it, and edit it, and organize it.  And of course that’s not what you do in blogs.  You just have to write whatever the hell comes to you at the time it comes, and post it.  That’s why a blog isn’t a book or a poem.  It’s super fresh, up to date, new ideas, new commentary on the spot.  I don’t know if I work like that.  It’s hard for me to post without mulling over what I’ve said, and if that’s really what I want to say, and how I want to say it.  I’m a bit obsessive when it comes to my writing.  And I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing, but I can get caught up in perfecting instead of producing.  Quality counts, but a blog is more about producing.  Have I produced what I set out to?  I don’t know.  It’s been a year.  Have I told the story of my year teaching and living in Thailand?  I don’t know.  It all seems so barely there – just touching the surfaces of what it’s like.  There’s just so much more to this experience than I could ever write, let alone write well.  There always is when you live your life.  All the personalities, the parties, the music shared, the jokes born, the bonds made… in the words of KT Tunstall, “You change every day, you change every day…”