the stories sher shares

OISHI

2008-06-06T01:26:00.000-07:00

I am a foodie. This means I have a particular interest in food, at least that is what the dictionary says a foodie is. When I went to Japan to visit my dear friend Mari, whom I met when she studied abroad at UNC, I spent most of my time laughing, catching up, and savoring food. I think during my entire five days there I ate more than I had in the past month. It is a good thing my vacations are short because I think if I spent any more time in countries I might become the size of a beluga whale.

I hope you enjoy my tastebud tour of Japan.

Udon Noodles:

Mari’s mom is one of the greatest cooks in all of Japan. That is what I think at least. She asked me what Japanese dishes I enjoyed and cooked me my favorites every night for dinner.. and she even made Udon noodles for lunch the first day I got there.

Refreshing. These noodles were almost as rejuvenating to my soul as the 50 degree Tokyo air that I could suck down into my lungs as opposed to the 100 degree polluted stuffy Bangkok air I can barely get down my nose.

The noodles are long like spaghetti noodles, but thicker. They swim in a soup with scrambled egg and dried seaweed chips sprinkled on top. I used my thick plastic chopsticks to pick up the noodles and messily slurp, not only one, but TWO bowls! On the side we had some broccoli tempura, sort of like broccoli dipped in a batter and then fried, with some citrus soy sauce. It was the perfect welcome to Mari’s heartwarming home meal.

Japanese Crepes:

I have many happy crepe memories. My dad makes amazing banana crepes, and my friend Christie’s dad always made us fresh fruit crepes whenever I slept over at her house. On a perfect May day in Paris, my dad and I had crepes at an outdoor café while sipping cafe au laits. In Sydney, at Pancake on the Rocks, I had an unforgettable creation called Chocolate Jewels which was crepes made out of chocolate along with chocolate pancakes. In Thailand we go to Crepes and Co. which has a nutella crepe that makes drool drip down my face almost as much as the chocolate that oozes out of it when I stab my fork in it.

And then there is Japan. One day Mari and I went shopping in Harijuku, where I felt like I was in an anime cartoon as I watched hordes of teenagers walking around dressed up in doll clothes and gothic attire. It was here that Mari wanted me to experience the Japanese crepe.

My mouth watered as I looked at the menu with appealing pictures of each choice. Chocolate, banana, brownie, fruit, cream, ice cream, custard…any of these could be rolled up in a crepe and put in a pink paper wrap. I chose raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries with a base of thick, sweet custard.

Mari giggled at me as I ate my crepe, indulging in each custard and crepe covered berry as we squeezed in the midst of the crazy people of Harijuku. Yet another happy crepe memory to add to my list.

Soba

Mari and I had hiked a peaceful trail through the woods of Kamakura, a small town a little outside Tokyo, exploring the shrines and temples on the hill. The trail had stretched on longer than we thought, so by the time we made it back to the center of town we were famished.

Every single restaurant in this little town sold soba. But every restaurant on the tourist-infested avenue was selling it at exorbitant prices, or so Mari said. It felt like we were in a desert dying of hunger. We could see a mirage of soba in the distance, taunting us, but every time we thought we touched it, it scurried away like an elusive elf. Finally after I was going to suggest we give up and eat some more crepes for lunch, Mari found a reasonable place hidden away at the end of the street.

Im not sure if it was because I was so hungry or because it really was, but soba, a cozy warm noodle soup, is amazing. First I mixed some toppings, like sesame seeds, in the broth. Then I picked the buckwheat noodles out with my chopsticks and loaded them on my ladle along with soba kernels, and special tofu and slurped it all together. After scooping every last drop of the soup and smiling contentedly with Mari I decided soba is the best water in any desert.

Okonomiyaki

After watching a traditional Japanese-style play called Kabuki, in which the stars have been trained from an early age to be performers, it was our turn to put on our own show. Not a Kabuki play of course, since only men perform all the roles in Kabuki, and we weren’t wearing excessive amounts of make-up..but instead we had our own Japanese cooking show.

Each table in the artsy small restaurant we went to for lunch had its very own stove-top to cook okonomiyaki, a Japanese style pancake. These pancakes aren’t a maple syrupy sweet breakfast food, but rather a savory lunch-time delight.

First we fried our pork, which was pretty much a large strip of bacon. Then we covered the bacon with a circle of thick batter loaded with our choice of diced cabbage and other veggies. It sizzled for awhile before we used two large metal spatulas to pick it up on each side and flip over the massive pancake which was the size of a small pizza. Then we slathered a sweet dark sauce over our masterpieces with a little brush.

The best part of the show of course was indulging in the piping hot pancake pizza and chatting with Mari about life...ah, I love the rewards that come with food.

Gyoza

As I said, every night Mari’s mom was so kind to cook us oishi (delicious in Japanese) Japanese dinners. We had chicken katsu, one of my favs, which is breaded chicken that is dipped in hot mustard and the same sweet dark sauce that goes on the Japanese pancake. And we even cooked food on the kitchen table one night in a hot pot full of broth with veggies and pork.

But on my last day Mari and I got to help out Mari’s mom with dinner by making gyozas, a Japanese-style ravioli. First I took a small round sheet of dough that her mom bought at the grocery store and placed it in my hand. Then I wet the edge with water so it would seal when I closed it. After that I added little scoops of a pork veggie mixture to the center of each one. I folded up each side and made creases at the top to make sure the meat stayed in.

Then her mom cooked them in a pan on the stove to brown the dough a little and then added some water and covered them to let them steam. Once they were done, we dipped our squishy half-moon creations in a citrus soy sauce mixture and plopped one after another into our hungry mouths.

Of course mine we easy to pick out because they had big bulges of pork and the creases weren’t centered and squished oddly, but I discovered that gyozas taste amazing whether they are perfectly shaped or deformed.

Krispy Kreme

“Oh! I remember you love Krispy Kreme! What is your favorite doughnut from Krispy Kreme?” I thought it was sort of random of Mari to ask me that when she was visiting me in Bangkok the week before I went to Tokyo. But I decided to not think much of it and told her I LOVED original glazed and chocolate.

A few days before I went to Japan one of my friends from work told me excitedly, "They have Krispy Kreme there! Do you think you could bring me back some?" I asked Mari if they really had it there and she said, "No, I’m not sure where your friend heard that. Sorry.." I was disappointed, and thought maybe Mari was confused but decided to brush it off.

The last day in Japan after our filling dinner of gyozas Mari said that we needed dessert. I was pretty full, but of course I do have a second stomach for dessert, so I was excited to see what it was.

When I saw the beautiful white cardboard box in her hands with the red cursive lettering and green outline I was so delighted I think I screamed.

When I bit into the steaming, sweet, melt-in-my-mouth-taste-of-heaven, my eyes were closed and I couldn't stop making exclamations like, wow, so good, yumm...even in the midst of my bite. Mari and her family were in shock at how ecstatic I was. They were like, I thought you would be excited..but not this excited!

So technically Mari did lie to me..but it was all to surprise me with my long-lost food friend from home I never expected to find in Japan. Her sweet thoughtfulness was what made the doughnut taste 10 times better than any I have ever had.

Next Stops

This weekend Im going to Laos to visit one of my friends, Libby, who I did my CELTA course with back in August. Im so excited to taste her good ol' home cooking and discover what Laos cuisine is like!

Then my next venture is Waxhaw! After teaching an intensive six-week SAT boot camp I will fly home on August 2 and be around until August 23 when I fly back to Bangkok for one more year of teaching.

I can't wait to eat my mom's chiliaquiles and eat my dad's banana pancakes :)

...I couldn't upload more pics yet because my connection is slow..but if you want see more go to:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2229701&l=2beb0&id=2701334
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2229702&l=c026c&id=2701334

Waxhaw and Sukhothai

2008-05-26T09:24:00.000-07:00

Bangkok. New York. London. Paris. Rome. These big city names stand-alone and don’t need any extra titles dangling behind to give more oomph.

I’m driving down two lane Providence Road forever when I finally come upon the brown metal sign with white lettering, “Welcome to Waxhaw, Home of the Waxhaw Indians.”

Once I cross the railroad tracks and make a right at the one stoplight in town onto Main Street I come upon another sign, “Waxhaw, the birthplace of the 7th president of the United States, Andrew Jackson.” Ironically he was also a forceful proponent of Indian removal. But surprisingly that isn’t mentioned on the sign.

Waxhaw wants to make sure visitors know why they should visit and do this by explaining itself on signs. But most Waxhaw citizens are proud to not be from one of those big-name cities. They enjoy keeping their community cozy and kicking out anything that may interfere with the friendly small-town feel.

Maybe that is why there still isn’t a Wal-Mart in Waxhaw, even though I’m sure the dreaded day is on its way. I can picture the approaching endless debates at town meetings, write-ups all over the Waxhaw Gazette, and newscasters broadcasting interviews of irate citizens on Channel 9, “More traffic, more taxes, less small businesses! NO!”

It seems that every week on the out-skirts of Waxhaw new housing developments pop-up with new shopping centers next-door, slowly inching their way to the heart of the town. But until the cow pasture next to the post office is turned into a parking deck, I’m convinced Waxhaw is still a small-town.

Sukhothai used to be the old capital of Thailand. When I was going to visit my boyfriend Dominic’s hometown, that is the line I told my friends from home who had never heard of it, yet again, adding a title to make a small-town worthy of a visit.

The town reminded me so much of my own Waxhaw. Dominic and I popped around on his friend’s red Honda motorbike to an internet café, 7-11, drink stalls, and restaurants to visit where Dominic’s old friends worked. We even stopped by the video game store where he worked as a teenager. Everyone asked him how his grandma was and what was new. And they all discussed “The Big C.”

The Big C is not a bad word that you shorten by saying The Big C, but it’s a shopping center chain, reminiscent of a Wal-Mart Super center. It has everything you need, and is open even until 11 p.m., so you can get things whenever you want. Wow!

But like there will be in Waxhaw, there was debate about the rise of the bright green sign with red letters spouting Big C on the edge of town. The quaint stores even displayed posters in Thai spouting, “No to the Big C!” But unlike Waxhaw, it came.

The first weekend I went to Sukhothai everyone was discussing the Big C being built. The next month when I went, it had opened. During that visit, everything was Big C. I saw pictures at Dominic’s teacher’s house of the never before seen traffic on the road the day it opened. There wasn’t one person we met who didn’t mention it somehow in the conversation. We also went to it three times in two days.

While wandering the aisles I felt I was in an American superstore again, minus the rice cookers everywhere, the meat sitting unpackaged ready to be picked through and peering at packages of coagulated chicken blood which always looks to me like chocolate mousse. And of course near the checkout we ran into Dominic’s old friends he hadn’t seen since college. I was struck with Waxhawness like crazy.

I know that the small businesses in Sukhothai are stressed out, but I can’t say that it wasn’t nice to sit at Swenson’s (an “American” ice-cream parlor) and eat chocolate ice cream and buy Tupperware and bug spray without having to go to a million different random stores.

But Sukhothai doesn’t just have a Big C. I think as long as the ancient ruins still rise on the horizon and visitors come from afar to visit and leave telling everyone how they just went to Sukhothai,Thailand’s old capital, it will still be a small town.

And that makes me happy. Almost as much as Waxhaw home of the Waxhaw Indians AND the 7th president of the United States makes me happy.

TARGET

2008-04-13T07:47:00.000-07:00

target: a person, object, or place selected as the aim of an attack. an objective or result toward which efforts are directed .

It started out so innocently. Nan and Alice, two of my friends from work, and I wanted to go dancing Saturday night at RCA, a popular dance spot. I called them and set up plans to meet them there, and I hailed a bright pink taxi to take me to the strip for 60 baht.

As we neared the brightly lit road, the taxi man kept trying to tell me something in Thai about where he should drop me off. Im working on honing my Thai skills, but they still aren't up to the level of understanding a fast-talking taxi man. So I did my usual smile and nod to whatever he said, pretending like I understood, and was dropped off at a random area of RCA that I hadn't wandered before.

I was not alone though. My sparkly, silver shoes had barely touched the broken pavement when I was taken up into a sea of people. When I write sea, I really do mean a sea. I felt as though I was stuck in a rip tide of the ocean and couldn't swim away no matter how feebly my little arms tried to fight against the powerful waves. I was stuck. Eventually I gave up trying to tread against the tide, and allowed myself to float with the people waves.

Not only was I stuck in a swell that felt as mighty as a stormy sea, but also as I was pulled along I felt as though I was drowning in not just any ocean, but an wintry ice-cold ocean. This is because as I was dragged along, around every two seconds I would get buckets of cold water doused on me, or piercing cold jet streams shot at me. Then in the midst of the water attacks, once the assailants saw my white face, and they would evilly smirk and merrily shriek, "Farang!" and smear white plasterish stuff all over my face. I was helpless, alone, plasterfaced and soaked.

The reason for the water war was not to torture Sherri, but because the second week of April was Songkran, the Thai new year. My typical American celebration of the New Year looks quite different: drinking sparkling grape juice and playing random games to pass the time until midnight when we watch the ball drop in Times Square on TV. The Thai celebration lasts for a few days, and everyone has off of work and are free to have water fights all day and night long. The water symbolizes a way Buddhists bless each other. But the main target of attack are foreigners, hence why everyone rejoiced when they saw my white face in an area where mostly Thais hang out.

So after 45 minutes of drowning in the Thai sea of celebration, frantically calling Nan and Alice on my wet cellphone while the crowd and music are blasting around me, I finally found them. I hugged them, so happy to not be alone, and then it was time for vengeance. We bought some water guns and I saw why Songkran is so fun after squirting and laughing with everyone.

I love how the whole city celebrates and has fun together. My favorite part was riding the sky train at night and seeing hordes of dripping people with disheveled hair and white plaster smeared all over them, holding an array of brightly colored water guns, shivering in the train's A/C, but radiating merriment. It beats grape juice and a silver ball dropping any day..:)

Good to know if you are ever in Thailand during Songkran: Be prepared to get soaked no matter where you are or what you are doing. Going to work, or going to dance, you will get wet, so dress appropriately, and always have a water gun in hand.

Stray Monkeys

2008-03-25T03:53:00.000-07:00

Soi dogs always prowl the side roads (sois) of Bangkok, and now I know a few that live near my apartment. There is one who wears a black cage over his mouth, and he reminds me of Hannibal Lecter. At first he freaked me out, but now I just give him a glare if he looks fiesty and keep meandering by. The other one wanders the main busy street at night. He is a beautiful Dalmatian, with some extra colors added to his black and white spots, perhaps by his bored owners who work at one of the food stalls.

Of course dogs aren't the only creatures that wander the streets..there are also skinny cats, plump rats, ginormous cockroaches, and of course elephants. They always freak me out a bit. I will be looking down, focusing so hard on not tripping on the uneven sidewalk, then I will glance up to find a huge elephant standing before me tagging behind his owner..which then of course leads to me clumsily tripping..

And on Monday when I visited Lopburi I found yet another member to add to the menagerie of soi life..monkeys! After a two-hour van ride from Bangkok, my boyfriend Dominic and I stepped out the van to find monkeys begging for food right on the street while others skittered along the electric wires above us. I kept wondering if they were going to poop on us. Heehee..The ones on the sidewalk were like goats, chowing down on anything and everything that happened to be littering the pavement. One even stole Dominic's water bottle and was chomping on the cap, trying to twist it off with his broken yellow teeth. I tried to get near him, but he leapt at me, shooting bullets at me with his fierce eyes, so I decided to leave and give him a little personal space with his water bottle.

The most monkey-infested area we visited was at Prang Sam Yot, which is the ruins of an old Buddhist temple. Lopburi was the old capital of Thailand, even before it was Thailand, over 700 years ago. So there are many old ruins around that have been rebuilt from the olden days.

A cute, pudgy Thai lady was our tour guide to help protect us from the evil, vicious monkeys, and guide us to the cute, tame ones we could pet and feed. For 20 baht I bought two bags of sunflower seeds to feed the small, grey gangly inhabitants of the temple grounds.

The first time I tried to feed one his little fingers grabbed hastily at the seeds in my hand, making me flip out and run away. Heehee...but as we kept touring I calmed down a bit..until the lady let me hold a wooden stick and swing three monkeys on it. It was good fun until a monkey jumped on my back, and gripped onto my purse strap. I screamed and they all fell off the stick, and of course we all started cracking up.

But what freaked me out the most was when I was getting my picture taken next to one, and he decided my sweaty, pulled back hair needed some help. He put his little hands in my hair, and started to pull on my ponytail. I screamed and fled, laughing hard once again.

There was such a wide variety, some had bulging stomachs, others, were skinny and slow, some were fast and springy, but the ones that were the most bizarre were the babies. They looked like E.T. to me, huge ears that enveloped their faces and little bony bodies covered with translucent gray skin. Wow, I think they could be in a new scary animal for some horror flick.

It is fun to see monkeys spice up the street life of Thailand mainly because Buddhists traditionally don't believe in killing animals, hence the soi dogs, and cats..and perhaps cockroaches, and rats too? Whatever the reason, I'm just glad I got to play with some monkeys for a day.

inexplicable

2008-02-26T01:35:00.000-08:00

I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that these people were kicked out of their countries. I can’t believe how messed up all their governments are. I can’t believe all the lies the news media feeds us from what is really going on in their homelands. I can’t believe that many of them can NEVER return to their homes, to the places they grew up and became who they are. I can’t believe that most people in the West don’t know and don’t really ever think about them.

I can’t believe how blessed I am to have grown up in America. I can’t believe that if I had grown up in many other countries I would not have the freedoms I have today as a woman in society. I can’t believe it.

To try to help my brain figure it all out, I have to talk it out. Alice and I will talk and talk as we walk out the faded pale blue metal doors with the UNCHR insignia stamped on them.

We walk down the small soi while few kids from the refugee center kick a homemade ball around us. We talk about how astonished we are at the stories we just heard.

We get in the hot-pink taxi and go to the subway pondering what we can do, wondering how they can live like that.

We hop on the subway and zip below the city feeling remorse for them, and guilt sometimes at how much we take for granted.

We climb the steps to the skytrain and slowly we realize that we can’t mull on it forever and now we need to go to a café and maybe type some emails and prep some of our lessons for the week ahead.

Many times I just have all these feelings and wonder what actions I can do to accompany them and solve all the problems of the world that I am hit in the face with every Tuesday afternoon.

Waiting. Waiting for the U.N to make its decision. Waiting for the war to end. Waiting for my husband to get a passport. Waiting for immigration to remember us. Waiting for the police to discover us or to flee before they can. Waiting.

Many people throw this word in the air to describe how they waited 20 minutes in gnawing hunger for their meal until the incompetent waitress brought it. Or they waited at the bus stop in the blustering cold before it finally skidded to a stop before them. Or they waited for the guy or girl they liked to call for hours until he or she remembered their existence.

“Waiting” is an occurrence that comes and goes and soon becomes something someone whines about to her friends over lunch. Yet, for a refugee, this word is used to describe their entire existence. They have entered a waiting room and have been there so long they have just become a part of the decor.

The refugee waiting room that I peek through the window of every week takes place as the Bangkok Refugee Center. Since October, on most Tuesdays, Alice and I spend an hour and a half playing games, pronouncing words in American English, smiling and trying to love kids from Nepal, Sri Lanka, Laos, Cambodia, Congo, and any other conflict torn country.

Alice and I never feel like we do much. We always feel totally unprepared every week and wonder if we really are doing anything to help these kids learn how to pronounce English properly. Are we just wasting their time by being there?

But then I was reminded, how can you waste a refugees time? That is the one thing they have to spare.

When I ask the refugees I meet if they miss their home country, everyone has said yes. A place where their lives were at stake, where the government destroyed their homes, where they lost their family and friends everyday, they miss that place. They want to return home.

When I ask if they like Thailand, the most common reply is no. They don’t like the food, the weather, how expensive everything is. But this is a place where they are free from persecution, from death, from tyranny. But they don’t like it. They want to return home.

When I ask where they are going next their eyes get a little brighter. Maybe Norway, I have a sister who lives there now. Or maybe Canada because Cantonese is the third most common spoken language. Or California. I have an uncle who works at McDonald’s, and he really enjoys it.

But if you had the chance would you rather go home? Yes.

A man from the Congo told me how at home they have perfect weather, not too hot or cold, which is ideal for exploring the huge forests and open areas he misses. Everyone has free electricity and water. I still don’t understand how that works but it is something to do with the government giving electricity and water away to other countries. There are diamonds everywhere. One morning you could find one, take it to someone and get $10,000. He had so many opportunities. He kept repeating, so many opportunities. He misses his family and friends who are still there. Will you ever go back? I hope so, but I don’t know. Where will you go next? I don’t know. I don’t know. I miss home.

To never be able to go home again to your favorite places. To see your favorite people. I don’t really miss America most of the time. But to envision never ever returning again. To never see anyone from my past life. I can’t imagine it.

I’m sure if the refugees came here on their own they would love this place. It is not the place that they don’t like, but it is their situation. Forced to flee a place they never wanted to leave to go somewhere they care nothing about. What a different perspective from people who travel here from all over the world just to see Bangkok. The refugees could care less about the Grand Palace, about having their first taste of real pad thai, about riding an elephant. They want to be home eating their food around their families table even while war rages outside their window. It is amazing how being forced to be somewhere and being there out of your own volition changes your perspective on the place. Wow.

This week after teaching we had lunch with a man from Iran. He told us how he became a Christian in Thailand, but when he was in Iran he hated Islam. He hated how it enforced so many rules on society. You can’t sit in that chair because a woman sat there, you cant wear white socks because that is Westernized fashion, you cant roll up your sleeve and show your skin. You can’t…He was sick of it and of this God that forced people to follow so many rules.

He said many people are like him in Iran, many people dislike the government and the religion, but they can’t do anything about it because if they do they get killed. He said people in Iran love Americans. If I went there they would treat me better than most Iranians get treated. He said when 9/11 happened many people held candlelight vigils and then the army came in and arrested them. He said he news media from Iran tries to show how all Iranians hate Americans but it is all propaganda. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe it.

I have been going to the refugee center for the past months and always want to write something about it, but my words never seem to be enough and I can never get out my ideas of what I really feel and what I really want to say. So I have decided to just write and say something, which is better than saying nothing at all.

So I hope this helps someone understand a little more of what I will never understand.

NO BIG DEAL

2008-01-30T20:02:00.000-08:00

Normalcy. Wow. I discovered recently that I’m reaching that state after living in Bangkok for six months. Six months..no way.

The street vendors with an array of food, drinks and fruits used to captivate me. I was like a child in a candy store for the first time. Wanting to try everything, and not knowing where to start, overflowing with curiosity.

Now when I walk past the vendors, the smells of basil, peanut oil, and spices that make my eyes water are like the smell of pajamas I have slept in a few days---familiar and cozy, not startling. Now when I see the different carts I wonder why there isn’t more. Why is it I can only find the coconut ice cream man when I don’t want it, and he is elusive when I do want it?

After experiencing, tasting and searching, I now have favorites… like basil and pork over rice. I adore how it’s spicy flavor stays long after the last bite has passed through my flaming lips. Or green mango dipped in sugar and spice. The fresh taste mixed with the dip gives it zing. Or chayen, iced Chinese tea with sweetened condensed milk, which its dark orange liquid has left its mark many a time on my shirts.

An elephant ambling down the street as I'm eating dinner at an open-air restaurant makes me smile, but not want to frantically whip out my camera to get a picture of the mysterious beast. The gentle but strong creature is now like a cute dog walking with its owner on the street. I think how nice, maybe I can pet it. Then I do and move on.

When I see people bowing randomly on the street because they have passed a Buddhist god of some sort I acknowledge it as much as someone would when they see passer-by wave at a friend. The remnants of Starbucks drinks, sodas, and street food mixed with smoking incense in front of the idols are just another part of the scenery.

Zipping my Skytrain pass over the sensor is so part of my routine that I get it out even when I go on the subway…even though I can’t use it there. Then I casually sit in the bright yellow seats and stare at the tourists flipping maps around, pointing at the signs on the trains, wondering where to get off. But I have now timed my exit perfectly. I know that exactly two seconds after the train stops I can stand and smoothly walk out precisely when the doors open.

Seeing beautiful Thai women with old, geeky farang men everywhere is a sight that used to shock me, but now I just feel anger about the injustice. Now it is hard for me not to assume that every older white man I see is just in this land of freedom to find the companionship and love in a poor Thai women that he couldn’t find back home.

It is no big deal to get a 1,000 baht bill and then immediately search for a 7/11 to buy something like water for 8 baht so I can get change. I know that all the street vendors taxis, and motorcycles would moan and groan and show me they cant give me any change if I were to give them such a large bill.

I am used to sweating, sweating, sweating when I step outside even though it is January. Yet, I still always forget to bring a jacket when I go to cafés and am constantly shivering and then hit with the shock of hotness once I amble outside.

Discovering a bathroom with not only toilet paper, but soap AND paper towels is now like winning the lottery and is new gossip I tell my friends. “No way, we need to go to that restaurant/café more often!”

I forget how KFC in America has biscuits and mac and cheese. Now I get spicy chicken Thai-style on rice, and maybe even the fried sushi roll. Ahh, but once I remember about the biscuits, my mouth does water a bit. =)

I have reached the state of being able to ride side-saddle on a motorcycle taxi while gripping the handle behind the seat and holding my burdensome laptop bag with my other hand, as the wind makes my skirt fly a bit. Squeezing between the cars, buses and taxis while performing my balancing act is not an intense scene from an action movie any longer. The taxi is now my chariot ride to work.

Yes, I did step out of my comfort zone to come here, but now this place is becoming my comfort zone. It is hard because I have never been in a country long enough for this to happen, so I wonder as I become comfortable, what else I will learn in these next months I am here.

Ahh, but one thing that still isn’t normal for me is the Thai language. I feel I have gone backwards instead of forwards at times and wonder if I will ever figure out the puzzle of this sing-song tonal language that no matter how I say a word it never is right. Maybe I should get a tutor. I’m looking into that. I can’t wait until it becomes normal for me to carry on a conversation in Thai and not think twice about it.

Wow, I can’t imagine. But then I couldn’t imagine ever feeling comfortable riding on a motorcycle wearing a skirt…so there is always hope! =)

Preparing Paradise

2008-01-17T08:56:00.000-08:00

---i enjoyed getting to know some of the students more and becoming more adjusted to teaching SAT writing after a long 9 days of teaching an intense SAT boot camp..but my soul and body were yearning for a break by the last sunday when we entered into our 4 day holiday...the longest break i have had yet. i have been dreaming to go to ko phi phi ever since i got here. to see the idyllic beach where "the beach" was filmed, snorkel in emerald waters while playing with florescent fish, and of course lay out on the white-washed soft sand by the cool lapping waters..and i got to do it all...and here is a lil excerpt of my time----

Empty as a baseball stadium after the big game ended. The fans are gone, but their remnants are left: ends of hot dogs on the ground, nacho cheese dripping off chairs, and toilet paper decorating the bath-rooms. The workers are the only ones speckled around the seats, cleaning up the mess and preparing for the next big game.

This was Ko Phi Phi, Thailand at 7 a.m. I had arisen early, long before my friends, and was eager to go for a run on the white slip-through-your-toes soft sand, and gaze at the tall, bush covered forest green limestone cliffs gaping over the emerald waters. Ahh, paradise.

I left our wee bungalow and walked across the sandy, brick pathway to the shoreline as the humidity already began to suck the sweat out of me and leave a mark on my turquoise sleeveless shirt.

Stepping on the beach, I realized it wasn’t quite as picturesque as the day before when we had arrived. The sand didn’t look as sparkling amidst the plastic Pepsi bottles, random broken flip-flops, and every few meters an occasional Chang (Thai beer) dark brown glass bottle. And I was the only farang (foreigner) as far as I could see.

Last night I had forgotten for a few hours that tall, stocky people with pale skin and strong accents aren’t the main populace of Thailand. The hordes of farangs from Europe and America in Ko Phi Phi who populate every seaside restaurant, and sunbathe topless on every beach, had brainwashed me into thinking that these creatures are the true natives of Thailand.

But as I dashed down the beach with the sea-breeze grasping my frizzy morning hair, I remembered, “Oh yeah, Thais are the natives of this island, not farangs.”

I was hit with this fact as I ran by the long tail boat taxis. The taxis seemed enchanted and as if they were bobbing in the air because the water was so translucent. The boats were anchored to the shore through long ropes stretched across the sand. Six or seven taxi men were regaling stories in Thai while sitting in a circle around the boats. They were probably discussing how silly farangs are when I dashed by, yet another one to add to their list.

One of them pointed at me, and started to shout something in Thai, which led to everyone else chuckling. I was trying to run even faster to escape their points and stares, pretending I was sprinting the last lap in a 100 meter, when I didn’t see one of the ropes tautly stretched across the sand. I stumbled over it, skidding my knee across the terrain, falling on my face.

Laughter erupted from the Thai men as my cheeks began to look like most every other white person’s face on the island after a day in the sun. I immediately got up without even brushing off my sand smeared legs and ran even faster, now stumbling and leaping over black rocks that stuck out of the ocean, the laugher spurring me on.

No one really wakes up before 9 a.m. in Ko Phi Phi unless they are Thai. And no one ever runs on the beach unless they are a Thai person running away from an Adaman sea monster. And considering those don’t really exist I guess no one runs here and I’m the biggest freak ever. These thoughts were tumbling through my mind as I reached the end of the rocks, around the bend and out of sight from the hecklers. This is when I decided to walk. I was tired of the stares.

But as I walked I discovered I wasn’t the only farang awake on the island and the others were the most amusing stars of the Ko Phi Phi show at 7 a.m.

I meandered past an Italian couple sitting at a table, which would have a perfect spot for a beautiful view of the water and stars at sunset, which is most likely when they had begun sitting there. A night of drinks by the waters edge had transformed their starry eyes into bloodshot red orbs, and their smooth, sweet Italian was now rolling together into indecipherable murmurs.

Later on, I found another couple sprawled on the beach, speaking in English with a thick British accent. The woman was begging the man to tell her “the story.” He said, “That isn’t something one says to a lady at the sunrise of Ko Phi Phi!” She prodded and poked him, much to his delight, pleading for it anyways.

But other than the few drunken farangs, every morning of my stay, I felt like a white, young girl and Thais were the only ones who inhabited Ko Phi Phi.

As I strolled through the quaint alleys in the beach town the only traffic was a few bicycles rattling down the path. Most of the locals I came across would give me a smile that “Thailand--The Land of Smiles” is famous for, and say, “Good Morning! How are you?”

I’m used to the Thais who inhabit Bangkok, who are like the people in most other big cities in the world, they are friendly only when they have to be and tough most other times.

But on this island because of their welcoming greetings, I felt like I was back in the southern America where everyone says, “How y’all doing?” to anyone passing by within a foot’s radius. I guess southern hospitality corresponds not only to America but southern Thailand as well.

Most of the friendly Thais were eating a breakfast of rice soup, chicken and rice, or noodles at rusted tables sitting on faded plastic chairs. They were getting the croissants and jam, and English beans and eggs ready for the rest of the island’s inhabitants. The shopkeepers were listening to Thai radio stations as they put out sarongs, sunscreen, and postcards on their stall fronts. Men from one shop were chatting with their shop neighbors, smiling as the sun pierced their eyes, making the sandy street glow.

The rest of their day is intense for the Thais in which they serve the every whim and wish of the tourist. But at least they have the mornings to themselves, to remind them who they are and to cling to it.

And it turns out I wasn’t the only conscious farang on Ko Phi Phi in the early morning. One day I did find a beach on the other side of the island where freaks like me were running. Of course I joined them because I can’t forget who I am either. And maybe one day those Thai taxi men will try running on the beach and see how refreshing it is. But at least they will know not to trip on the ropes. I’m glad I could give them some tips.

Paparazzi Session Number 2

2007-12-17T07:22:00.000-08:00

The smell of incense, fried food and exhaust greeted me as I turned the corner of Soi 5 Ratchatiwi. I tried to squish swiftly through the typical melee of street vendors, cheap clothes sellers, and commuters on the broken-up sidewalk. At one point, a businessman dashed by me like a sprinter to catch the faded orange bus before it pulled away from the curb. Then a lady boy wearing bright red lipstick and a short skirt swooshed by, getting on the bus right after the businessman. Oh Thailand.

This morning I didn’t get as many of the usual stares when I walk through the street life to the park. I expect the stares, I mean I do sort of stand out. A white girl wearing shorts, tank top and running shoes, while everyone else is dressed for work or school… and of course most are mainly Thai. But today I seemed to blend in a little more, or so I felt. I thought, “Ahh, maybe I’m slowly looking more Thai without even knowing it…”

After about 5 minutes I made it to my refuge, the idyllic park on Soi Ragnam. It feels like a Central Park, manicured peace nestled in the midst of a chaotic crazed city. I breathed a sigh of relief as I started off my first lap around the walking path that circles the small pond, playground area, and picnic tables. Today the fountains were still and silent, but once I was lucky enough to get to watch them do a choreographed dance to inspiring classical music. It was so random it made my day.

I have created a little game for myself as I run at the park. I like to gaze at the people looking bored on the benches that border the walking path and figure out what they are doing and why they are there. I saw one man looking entranced with his cell phone, I assumed he was waiting for his girlfriend to call and she was taking forever. Then I came across an older, slightly overweight man running the opposite direction, wearing a sweat stained grey tank top, punching the air rapidly. I assumed he was an old Thai boxer, still trying his moves, which now aren’t quite up to par.

The next group was three university students sitting on a bench. I could tell they were in university because they were all wearing the traditional university uniforms. The two girls had shorter black skirts, brown belts with a funky clasp, and a white shirt with large silver buttons with the special emblem of the university. The guy had on black pants with the same style shirt. Each one also had a huge camera, which looked like one someone in the paparazzi totes around. I guessed that maybe their professor had asked them to take pics of the flowers arrangements or something. I agreed that the new potted poinsettias mixed with the vibrant green grass was a good contrast for photos..maybe I should have told them..but I sprinted by without another thought.

It was hot already, even though it was only 9:30 a.m. I thought I would be able to miss the heat, but it felt like it was 85 degrees edging its way to 90. The sweltering weather took away some of the pleasure of my run, and led me to beginning to become nice and sweaty, looking a little like the old punching man I had seen earlier. But I didn’t think much about it because it wasn’t like anyone else cared.

I was a few strides away from the photo peeps on my third lap, and noticed that this time instead of staring at their cameras, they were all looking at me with expectant faces. Oh boy.

Suddenly the girl with long dark hair with brown highlights smiles and stands up and waves me over. My good pace came to a stand still after she gave her request,” Can we take your picture?”

Of course I was looking so radiant with sweat slipping down my reddened face. My straggly hair was falling out of my loose ponytail. My shirt was splotched with sweat marks all over, looking like I had been attacked randomly with a hose. My black shorts had ridden up and looked more scandalous than they really were.

Why wouldn’t I want them to take a pic of me?

So there they stood, all three of them, cameras ready. I was told to stand closer to the edge, nearer to some nice bush. I wondered if maybe I should have been in a running position or something, just to spice things up, but no, I stood there awkwardly and smiled as best I could. Then they all grinned and nodded, allowing me to continue my run.

I’m thrilled that the whole photo class at their university gets to analyze and stare at those pics of me, that’s awesome.

And on my next lap around the track they were gone. I suppose my assumption was wrong. Maybe their real task was to go find the sweatiest foreign girl in the park, take a pic, and then once you do that you can return.

I’m glad I helped them out.

LIVING IN A MANSION

2007-12-07T00:34:00.000-08:00

yes, the time has come to leave the days of having maids come in every day to make my bed, give me fresh towels and wash the dishes. now im on my own and must fend for myself...yet again. and I LOVE IT.

i knew since i arrived that i could only stay at good ol' Evergreen Place Service Apartments from the beginning of august-the beginning of december, so i have always been on the look out, wondering where i would wander to next.

my dear friend mariha, who is an apartment finder extraordinaire, helped me discover my new home, KT Mansion. it is about 2 sky strain stops further away from my work, which is really only like 10 minutes more of a commute--not bad at all. two of my friends live down one of the sois right next to mine, and another lives the next skytrain stop over. so it is nice to have my friends as neighbors. and it is cheaper! it is about a little over a $100 cheaper to live here! so it is nice to have some more money to save...or travel with..

it was an adventure living in Evergreen with international students who wanted to make the most of their few months in bangkok. i loved the girls i lived with, they were all chill and we never had any fights or anything. they were sweet to me, but it is nice to not be woken up by them coming home late and seeing random boys on our couch when i walked out in the morning on my way to work. ahh...but i will miss those wacky days a wee bit.

my goal for my new place was to make it homey, a place i wanted to come home to because i discovered living in a hotel isnt exactly ever homey. so to aid the homey factor, i put up all my posters of pictures of my lovely friends, a colorful collage one of my friends made for me, and picture frames...pretty much the room screams sherri once you amble in.

the colors and one of my favorite parts, the bedspread, also add to the sherri-ness. there isnt much variety of cheap bedspreads in bangkok, but i actually found an original one. it is green and blue with flowers and fairies on it. i always wanted to be a fairy, so it makes me happy whenever i look at it. the ruffle around the edge goes a little too far, but other than that it's all good.

my room consists of a small neon green table with two modernistic chairs. i have a black wooden armorie, which matches my TV stand, and vanity desk. my bathroom is old school thai style. the shower is a removable head above the toilet. so there is no shower curtain. so when it is time to shower the whole bathroom becomes a shower room. so it is sort of like i have a walk in shower. hehee..

the only odd part is i dont have a window. no, surprisingly that doesnt mean i live in cave. there is a window in the random storage room where the a/c sits and makes tons of rattling noises. and frosted windows in my bathroom that let in light. but i dont really mind the non-window. the sun always wakes me up anyways, so i thought it would be sort of nice to not have a window for light to stream in at 6am. but oddly, i still wake up automatically at 630-645 everyday, even though my room is totally dark. i have only slept past 645 three times these past 4 months of living in bangkok. what is up with me? i think i might have eternal jet lag or something.

oh, but there is one more odd part. i live right next to Dunsit Commerical College, which means the shortcut through the college closes at 930pm every night. so the other night i walked with my friend home, and then went toward my place, i arrived at the gate a little before 930 to discover it was already locked. i felt like someone during the holocaust who missed curfew and was stuck oustide the ghetto until morning. im not even sure if ever they really did that, but that is what it felt like.

but luckily there is more than one way to get home. but it took an extra 15 minutes of walking fast down a random soi, instead of 2 minutes through the nice safe campus. oh wells! i will learn my lesson...maybe.

so we shall see what adventures lie ahead of me in KT Mansion. woohoo!

KANCHANABURI FLURRY

2007-11-28T08:23:00.000-08:00

DECLARE INDEPENDENCE

I was excited because two weekends go Alice and I had made plans to go to Kanchanaburi, which is about 3 hours north of Bangkok. I had wanted to go ever since my roomies told me about the waterfalls you hike to and go swimming in, and my co-worker related stories to me about how she pet tigers at the tiger temple. So cool! I have decided that traveling is the way I relax, and I needed some of that…

But then Alice couldn’t go because she had a hard week and just wanted to chill in Bangkok. It was understandable, but I was disappointed because I had been looking forward to the trip so much and talking about it all week.

Then one of my friends was like, Sherri, don’t let people stop you from your adventures. Just go on your own! So I was like, yeah, why don’t I!

So even though some people thought I was baa (crazy in Thai), after work on Sunday I packed my small backpack and side bag and then stood on the street to get a taxi to take me and myself to the Southern bus terminal.

After a long, traffic-ful ride, we arrived and I was shoved onto a bus headed for Kanchanaburi. I was the only farang on the bus the entire three-hour trip, which meant I received the usual stares and assumptions that I’m just another tourist. Oh well…

Once we got to Kanchanaburi, the terminal was rather empty, except for this one annoying man who kept telling me that he could take me where I needed to go. I tried to ignore him, and found a taxi man who said he would charge me 80 baht to go to the guesthouse.

The annoying man had tagged along, and said he could do the trip for 40 baht in his bicycle taxi. I got him down to 30 baht, and went with him. He wasn’t so annoying after all..

We rode along through the quiet streets to Apple’s Guesthouse, the one that my Lonely Planet guidebook had raved about. But when we pulled up to the friendly premises, they were dark. The bike-man told me they were full because there were soooo many tourists around, and said he could take me to somewhere else. I didn’t really believe him, but the other place he gave me the flier (he so conveniently had in his back pocket) was a guesthouse I had also read about, Blue Star, and the price for one room was cheaper.

Once we arrived, the owner was so genuine and kind, I thought, why not stay here, plus the room he showed me was so cool… on the outside..

JANE BUT NO TARZAN

It was like a tree-house in a jungle. The bottom floor had the small sketchy bathroom with geckos running amok on the non-flushable toilet. The bedroom was reached by climbing steep steps. It had a nice little porch with a wooden cozy bench and leg rest. So welcoming.

The inside was more like a room a 12 years old stays in when roughing it at summer camp. All it had was a double bed, with no sheets, just a threadbare blanket folded at the end. Then next to the bed was a stool with a small mirror over it. That was it. The screened windows had curtains that looked like they had shrunk over the years and barely covered the windows.

One of the most intriguing parts of the room was the lock on the door, it was just one of those you slide over to keep the door in place, like you find on a bathroom door. Wow, and my number one concern had been finding a room where I felt safe…and the adventure begins.

I DIDN’T KNOW THIS WAS A DATE

I chatted with the nice owner and once I said one thing in Thai he got so excited. I didn’t really chat of course, just said a few words which showed him I was trying to learn his tricky language. One thing I said was that I was hungry. The vocab I know the most has to do with food because it is the most important part of life in Thailand.

The owner said since I was hungry, that his friend who had been staring at me during our convo, could show me to town where I could eat, since he was on his way home. I thought oh, he will walk me to the road and be on his way. That’s cool.

But of course that didn’t really happen. It turns out he was going to take me on his motorbike. He took me to what he called an original Thai place, pretty much a normal food stall on by the road. He ordered minced herb pork with just enough spiciness and an egg over rice. As usual, the food was delicious, which was pretty much our main topic of convo, since I have perfected the world delicious in Thai.

The whole time I would try to say something in English, and he would say, speak Thai. So we had this constant banter of confusion of Thaiglish the whole night. Wow, I was working my lacking Thai skills like mad.

I had mentioned earlier how I wanted to go to the night market. Yet again, I assumed he would drop me at the curb of the market and be on his way. Not so much.

He wandered around with me and seemed to know everyone who worked there. They all pointed at us, and he would say girlfriend. I would sort of chuckle and try to ignore the comment and wanted to escape everyone looking at us. So I browsed everything as quickly as possible while trying to look interested.

After a nice round of girlfriend comments, he asked me how old I was. I said 22. He said he was 33. So then he switched and started to say, “Sister!” This I nodded to and said, “Brother!” in Thai.

Ahh, much better. But still every once in awhile he would say “Girlfriend”? And I would say quickly “”Sister!”

So we left the shopping for another stop at a place where we listened to a live band for a little while. The band was delighted that I was taking pictures of them, and kept telling me each pic was 20 baht. Then the owner got them to play for me the only Thai song I know. Everyone was so nice! Ahh, but finally after many pleadings of “Nuay mak” (very tired) to my tour guide, I got to go back to my lovely tree-house.

Finally, the friendly Thai man left me once I started talking with my neighbors in the next tree house over from Germany. I think they were a couple, and the woman seemed tickled by my enthusiasm and would giggle at how I said things.

It turns out they were in the police force together, which they said is a lot less exciting than the police life in the States, from what they see on TV. Heehee..They were happy when I told them I had German ancestors and told me I needed to learn German. I told them the only word I know is my last name which means Angel. Oh well, that’s something!

Then I had a sleepless night in my camp room, and woke up feeling amazed I was safe and sound. But I thought about how even though I had a fairly non-existent lock on my door, at least I had German police next door to protect me. Who needs secure locks when you have them?

FALLING DOWN

Banana, pineapple and honey pancake. Wow. I was in such heavenly bliss during every bite-ful of my breakfast that morning at Blue Star’s restaurant. The warm slices of banana melted in my mouth with the tang of pineapple to give every bit some zing. The pancake was so thick because of the bananas and pineapples that some of the inside didn’t cook all the way through. Usually I wouldn’t like that, but this even added to the perfection because the gooey sections tasted like cake batter freshly licked from the bowl. Wow. I definitely told the owner, that breakfast was alroy mak (very delicious).

Then after my delightful morning of eating bliss, I made my way to the waterfall. I stood on the road at the designated spot to wait for the bus to come. Right when I was starting to lose hope that I was in the right place a man came to ask me what I was waiting for. He told me the bus was coming down the road and flagged it down for me. I love when you travel alone and little angels pop up to help you at just the right time..

After an hour and a half of bumpy bus ridin, we made it to the Erawan National Park. I started wandering on the muddy trail that would lead me to the first of the seven levels of waterfalls. The park was cooler because of all the trees and there was a constant soundtrack of water gurgling. I was the only one on the path for awhile. I felt like I was one of the fellowship from Lord of the Rings, making my way to Rivendell.

Eventually I came upon four Thai girls taking pictures in front of the first fall I came to. I asked them if they wanted me to take their picture and they merrily accepted my offer.

Then it was as if that one small favor had turned me into their best friend forever. They all wanted pictures with me. One of them took my camera and took pictures of me with them. Then they grabbed my hand and brought me along the trail with them. They were smiling and holding me and excitedly talking to me in English, asking me where I was from and what I do.

I felt so loved, it was so sweet! They were from Krabi, a town in the south of Thailand and were on holiday from their work as nurses. They were all wearing cute shirts, flip-flops and bright make-up. Their attire didn’t really fit the hiking environment, and made me giggle.

After a few levels I said farewell to them because they weren’t going to the top. We hugged and I was on my way.

It really felt like I was in a fantasy land. The water was green blue and see- through. The falls were so gentle, not roaring massive ones, but instead calming for the soul.

Once I made it to the top I went swimming! The pool was not cool and felt so nice on my muddy legs. It was like a magical cleansing pool. What a perfect reward for my efforts…

Once the rain that had been dripping through the leafy top began to drop harder, I remorsefully decided I should head back. So I made my way down the slick trail to where the bus had dropped me off.

TIGER TEMPLE

Thankfully there was a food area there because I was famished. I tried to order from the random man who I thought was the server because he was giving the cooks a lot of orders. He looked at me strangely, but then after I spoke in Thai and he gave the cook my order.

“You speak Thai!” He said excitedly. We spoke some more together and then he invited me to sit with him and his friend. Oops, so he wasn’t the waiter..

It turns out he was the leader of a tour group. They had just seen the waterfalls and were on their way to the Tiger Temple. He asked me if I was going to see the temple the next day. I told him I was leaving that afternoon, so I couldn’t go and was sad.

He was like, no, you have to go! He thought about it for a bit and told me that I could go with his tour group to the temple and then they were going back to Bangkok that night, so they could take me with them if I wanted. The price was about the same or a little cheaper than if I made my way back on my own, and it was much easier, so I was like sweet and agreed.

The driver and the tour guide were so excited I was joining them, and kept trying to talk in Thai to me the whole time. There was about 7 other tourists in the spacious, quiet van. It was delightful, a much more relaxed riding environment than the bouncy, noisy bus.

Wow, the tiger temple was crazy! This monk who wanted to start a wildlife sanctuary opened the tiger temple. The tigers are so calm that you can just walk around them and get your picture taken right next to them. They are so chill because they have been hand-raised by humans so they don’t fear people.

I had heard rumors that really the tigers are drugged, and until I went there I believed everyone. But I really don’t think that is the case. The reason is that a lot of the volunteers who work there are from North America and very much the hippie activist type. I highly doubt that type of people would work at a place that drugged tigers, so I’m pretty certain the cats are just relaxed.

Then I even got to see tiger cubs! They were so cute and a little more active and jumpy than the big cats. The handlers know them so well and would tell us to back off when we needed to. I even got to kiss one, as you can see…

It was such an awesome weekend.

Traveling isn’t about the places you go, but the people you meet.

Yay.

VIETNAM VENTURES

2007-11-13T19:16:00.000-08:00

FIRST IMPRESSIONS WITH AN ELF MAN

One of our first discoveries in Vietnam was that traffic is louder and crazier than that of Bangkok. Yes, it is possible. By our last day we yearned for the miles of cars, which sit silently on the streets, waiting to for their turn to go at the hour-long red lights.

In Hanoi, no one waits, and everyone honks. Honks. Honks. And honks. I felt like the city was made up of a million broken horns that would randomly go off for no reason. Then there were swarms of motorbikes everywhere. It felt like they were killer bees, waiting to attack innocent tourists on the streets if they step the wrong way.

After a honk-full, almost crashing into a million motorbikes drive in the taxi to the center of Hanoi, we soon discovered our driver didn’t really know where our hotel was. Hmm..neither did we.

Our problem was solved when a man who reminded me of a Vietnamese looking Christmas elf came up to our window. He told us to get out. I was freaked out at first. I thought this little man who was a few inches shorter than 5'3 me would take us to a sketchy place in Hanoi and do something evil to us. I wasn’t going to budge.

It turns out he was just the owner of Ocean Star II (the hostel where we had booked our stay) who had used his magical powers to find the taxi. And I really do think he has special powers.

Right away, our elf friend, who turned out to be a boisterous, lovable ball of energy, was eager to help us book a tour for Halong Bay the next day. The problem was he didn’t speak English well. For some reason the way he said sacts, instead of taxes was pretty much the funniest thing in the world to me at the time and I couldn’t stop laughing. This was probably due to lack of food and sleep. Thankfully, he seemed oblivious to my snickers or just thought I was a freak American with laughing issues.

To make matters worse, Vietnamese dong boggled our famished minds to no end. After what seemed like 30 minutes of explanation in broken English we understood that 16,000 dong equaled one American dollar. But trying to add up these huge sums of money that really equal hardly anything is rather exhausting for the brain. It led to even more laughter from me when he was trying to type everything in the calculator, and we kept looking at him with puzzled stares after his lengthy explanations.

Yet the next few days after rest and food, I became saner and the elf man took a liking to me for some reason. He started to call me his girlfriend. I wanted to say you are too short to be my boyfriend, but didn’t want to hurt him too bad. So he had fun telling people I was his girlfriend, giving me hugs, dancing with me, and kissing me on the cheek.

Now I can say I had a Vietnamese Christmas elf guy for a boyfriend. How delightful! He really made our stay a silly, fun time. So much so that the annoyance soon vanished away that our water didn’t work much, a cockroach ran over Ja one morning and our room was made for a one and a half person and not three.

BAY BABES

The next day we rode in a van for about 3-hours outside of Hanoi to Halong Bay. We passed by farming towns, and stared at men and women working in the rice paddies with the famous straw cone hats. At first I thought these hats were worn for the tourists’ sake, but they actually do wear them for a purpose.. to keep the sun off and to stay cool.

Our van was full of characters. Our tour guide, yet again was lacking in English skills, even though his occupation is an English tour guide for Halong Bay. We had four guys from Switzerland who right away I knew were going to make things fun.

I guessed they were in a hardcore band when I first saw them because of their skating shoes, tattoos, and punk hats. I had never heard punk people speak elegant French before, so that was a cool combo. They are on a tour of the world for 20 months, if their money lasts that is..I was so inspired by them and wish that one day I can take a few months off of life and do the same. Wow, we shall see…Anyone want to join?

When we got on our boat at the bay, it felt like we were on an ancient Asian vessel, prowling the waters. First we went to a fishing village. I was so in awe because people actually live on houseboats, in the village. They don’t live on the land at all. They go to school in a building in the middle of the water. So crazy! We were discussing how boring it would be to live there if you weren’t used to it. The most exciting thing would be to swim over to your neighbor and talk about the catch of the day. Whoa, thankfully I wasn’t born into the life of Halong Bay fishing village…more power to the people who were..

Then we went into some caves, which were part of the UNESCO world heritage site. They were full of stalagmites lit up by different colored lights, like fluorescent green, purple and blue. It felt like we were in a club turned into a cave.

Our tour guide kept pointing at different stalagmites saying, “This is a dragon, do you see the dragon?” And all ten of us would look at each other, trying to decipher what he said and would be like. “No….” And then the Swiss guys would start yelling “Dragon, dragon!” And we would all laugh and stare and still not see it.

Once he told us one of the funky rocky things was Romeo and Juliet in the duck. What? We all looked at each other. What is he saying? Duck? Duck? Hmmm dark? But still it didn’t make sense. At one point he said, “Am I confusing?” I thought of saying yes, but didn’t think it would help much, so I just smiled and said “No! You are fine.” Yet another delightful character to add to our mix.

BIG TV

We were going to spend the next day going around Hanoi and looking at the sites of the city. First of all we shopped and bought cutesy Vietnamese hat decorations. Then we went to some cool gardens and the first Vietnamese library, where the books are huge stone tablets that have Chinese characters engraved in them. Eventually we went to the Ho Chi Min museum. That was interesting because none of us were quite sure who he was, and the whole modernistic, funky museum was very supportive of him.

But eventually we were so exhausted after walking around the whole city for hours that we needed to relax. We decided to try to see a Vietnamese movie at the theater. We found the nice little man who had been taking us around the city in his little bicycle chariot where he drives in the back and we ride in the front.

It is perfect because you have an unblemished view of the city streets---the huge tall trees lining the roads amidst the tall, slender, elegant French-style architecture, the women carrying poles on their backs laden with fruit baskets at each end, and the Vietnamese on lunch breaks chowing down at street stalls.

So we told him, “We want to see a movie.”
“Oh! You want to go shopping?”
“No, we want to see a film.” (We begin pantomiming watching a film.)
“Oh! You want to get food?”
“No, we want to go to the theater.” (Pantomiming even more exuberantly now.)
“Oh! You want to go to hotel?”
“No, we want to go to the cinema.” (Giving up pantomiming)

This banter continued for a while, much to everyone’s frustration. Finally I said, “We want to see big TV!”
“Big TV! Oh yes! Big TV! I know! I take you!” He pantomimes a big TV.

We all giggled at the fact that it took him so long and were ecstatic to finally have broken the language barrier.

We got in two different bicycle chariots and after about 20 minutes we realized after passing the same spot we had been picked up, that our faithful driver didn’t know where he was going. Yet, after awhile, he finally stopped and said, “Big TV!”

Ahh, we looked over and saw a TV store selling Panasonic TVs, not just any TVs though, big ones.

NO, no! We tried to tell him that it wasn’t what we wanted. “But big TV!” he pointed. A man on the street tried to help us too, but he had never heard of the word movie theater either. Eventually we gave up on the movie option and decided to try to have him take us to somewhere close by on the map, we pointed at a theater where they put on plays and asked him to take us there.

He seemed to know where that was so we drove along for another 20 minutes until he pulled up to a bookstore. NO! A bookstore?! We started to tell him it was wrong, but finally decided to just get out.

We gave him 30,000 dong, the first agreed on price, but he was annoyed as well. “No! More money! I drove around and around!”
“But you didn’t take us where we wanted to go!” So we made a dash inside the bookstore, to hide-out from the disgruntled driver.

We never found our movie theater, but a sweet lady in the book store immediately knew what we were talking about when we asked. It was too faraway to go to, but oh well. We learned overall in Vietnam that even if people appear to speak English, looks can be quite deceiving.

SAIGON YUM

I know you must be astonished that I haven’t spoken about food yet. But I saved it for now because I wanted this blog entry to have a nice ending.

The night we arrived, my first sight of food stalls added to my laughing problem. Many people in Hanoi sit on little tiny chairs at the street vendor stalls. It looks like the adults have pulled up to the kid’s table at Thanksgiving. It was so cute to see the stools, and we couldn’t get over them. Look for pics online…

The first night we walked to the first food stall we saw and sat down on the wee chairs. For about a dollar each, we feasted on Vietnamese style BBQ. Each table had its’ own grill with a Bunsen burner like thing under it, where we put beef and cooked it ourselves. They also gave us green onions and tomatoes to add to the beef. With our chopsticks we pushed it around on the grill until it was just the right shade of well-done but not too burnt. Then we dipped it with a tomato in a rather Thai tasting spicy, flavorful sauce, and it was perfect! Or maybe it was also that we were starved, either way it was fun.

We also saw the French influence because they served us baguettes with the meal, so different from Thailand where bread is scarce at most food stalls. Then for breakfast at Ocean Star II we also had baguettes with eggs, as well as Vietnamese pho.

Alice was super excited about foo, a noodle soup with chicken and herbs, because she had it all the time at home in Calli. But she was disappointed because she said it tastes better in Callifornia. Heehee..I didn’t think it was too bad, but I enjoy Thai soups better cuz I think they have more flavor. Maybe I will just have to eat pho in California though before I decide Thai noodle soup is better..

Oh man! And the coffee! So good! I was eager to try Vietnamese-style coffee that I had heard about in the States. One morning after eating some dough bread for breakfast we went to a café, which even had the mini-chairs. The coffee was brought in a small clear glass with a spoon in it. I mixed the coffee with the sweetened condensed milk that was at the bottom of the glass. It had such a rich, strong taste. It was like eating a brownie minus the chocolate.

Later on we indulged at a fancy café where I got my own mini-press pot of coffee on top of my cup. Then I after letting the coffee seep for about 5 minutes I mixed it with the milk. Yet again it was amazing. Of course since caffeine and me are mortal enemies, I was up all night after my two coffees in one day. But hey, I’m only in Vietnam once, so I don’t regret it too much..

Our last food delight was when we treated ourselves to a nicer restaurant. We got a dish where they give you circular sheets of rice paper, which looks just like wax paper, and we put sticky green, and white noodles, basil, cucumbers, pork ribs, and a spicy sauce and rolled it up like a wrap. Wow, so cool! Ahh, as one of my co-workers says, the joys of being mortal, being able to indulge in delicious food.

NEXT STEP

I hope I survive another week of intense work. If I keep thinking about elfs and big TVs and laughing..I think I can make it through.

Woohoo!

ON HOLIDAY...for a day

2007-10-30T20:56:00.000-07:00

DETOX

Hmm, I think this was one of my hardest weeks at work so far. I thought in Thailand I could escape the stress and pressure America puts on me, but I was not so elusive, because this week my enemy found me once again---no fair.

As I mentioned in my previous post, we started Jr. Elite this past week. I enjoy teaching the kids writing, doing silent reading, helping them with their homework and doing a book club on Charlotte’s Web, but it is for 3 hours on Wednesday and Friday. I used to spend that time planning and preparing for my other classes, the 9th and 10th grade book club and intense SAT writing. Yeah, so since I didn’t have as much time to plan and another class to plan for, I was freaking out.

Somehow after much journal writing at how stressed I was and going out with my friends and not thinking about the pressure, I made it through. Ahh, but the best detox from the stress I got was yesterday…

At work on Sunday, Ja, my director, was like, hey, what are you doing tomorrow? I wasn’t really planning on doing anything, except not thinking about work. She said, “Let’s go to the beach for the day, want to? I think we need it.” Wow, these words gave my body and soul such joy I was about to start break-dancing in the office.

The next day, Ja, Alice and I groggily jumped in a 15-passenger van at 7 a.m. to take us to Hua Hin, a beach about 2 hours and 40 minutes away from Bangkok. I munched on my just ripe enough, juicy, the perfect shade of yellow pineapple as we bumped along in the van which by some miracle was speeding along, evading most of Bangkok’s horrendous traffic.

Ahh, thankfully Ja has been to Hua Hin four times, so Alice and I didn’t have to go through our usual intense time of arriving somewhere, jumping off the bus and feeling completely lost. Our first hour typically consists of showing pictures from our guidebook to taxi drivers while using our Thainglish to ask them to take us there. What a blessing local friends are to directionally challenged people..

Of course we needed food to give us the necessary strength to lay on the beach all day, so that was our first stop. Ja told us Hua Hin is apparently well known for their pork satay, or moo-satay, in Thai. The roasted strips of pork on a stick are dipped in a thick smooth peanut sauce. The sauce goes perfectly with the pork, as most sauces do in what is my favorite culinary world.

Moo-satay was one of our appetizers included in our feast of chicken and rice, and prawn noodle soup we gobbled up at a typical street restaurant. These mom and pop-like diners are open-air, with concrete walls and floor. The Thai customers sit on the faded multi-colored plastic chairs pulled around metal rusted tables that always have a few containers of spicy seasonings to add to the already catch-your-mouth-on-fire-with-flavor dishes.

Our next mission was to find our spot in the smooth slip through your fingers sand piled up in front of the calm, lapping, not-to-warm-not-to-cool waters. First we had to navigate around the rows of beach chairs for rent, bypassing all the sellers of grilled corn, jewelry, bags, and juice. Horses were dotted all over the beach, standing still, guarded by their owners who pleaded you to take a ride down the beach for 50 baht. But eventually after getting through the melee, we rented a straw mat, and found a covert spot under the shade of a beachy tree.

I was with Alice, and Ja, who like many Asians will do anything, even put on whitening lotion, to get whiter. As a result they wanted to hide away from the sun. Of course, me being white, I wanted to get darker. Why are we never content with who we are? But I didn’t mind the shade. When I got tired of the shade, I laid out my towel in the sun. I tried to be extra careful to control my desire for the bright rays so I wouldn’t turn into a deliciously red lobster like I had at Pattaya.

For quite a few moments yesterday I felt as though I had sneaked into paradise or at least that I was on the border, getting a sneak peek. The ocean breeze danced over us as we lay under the tree, where we lost ourselves in books and chocolate ice cream cones.

After our intense relaxing on the sand, it was time for swimming lessons with Sherri in the water that was so still it was like a pool. Alice and Ja don’t know how to swim, so I tried to help them out a bit. I think they made progress; they were almost floating and even dog paddling. I was proud…but they weren’t quite as impressed with their new-found skills. Oh well…maybe I should learn how to teach swimming, that might be my next venture.

Of course we had to pee after awhile..but in Thailand the most silly form of exploitation happens when it comes to toilets. The places where it is a must to use the toilet, such as bus stops and beaches, you have to pay a few baht to use them. Even though these bathrooms are always the worst. It really makes no sense to me to pay to use toilets that are equivalent to the sanitary conditions of a greasy gas station combined with a Kenyan outhouse. But of course we had to succumb because we had to go, so we brought our 5 baht and began the trek.

An inviting resort caught our eye on our way…The southern plantation style buildings, with an expansive garden of trees carved into elephants, birds and giraffes, inspired me. There had to be toilets here—free, nice toilets. Alice and I walked with purpose past the guard, and decided to make it our goal to find a toilet. We uncovered our prize next to the refined patio, and casually strolled in. There was no one there, and there was even real hand soap and towels---two things which are a rare commodity in any toilet in Thailand. But after our second time of la te da walking in, the guard seemed to catch on. I think when we went back with Ja, she threw him off because she was the only non-farang on the premises. She decided if he tired to speak to her she would pretend like she didn’t know Thai. But right when he was about to say something to us we quickly walked out and scampered down the beach. Heehee..

But Ja wasn’t the only one getting caught for being Thai. When I asked in Thai to the Thai coconut seller how much the coconuts were, he said, “Wow, are you from Thailand?” Of course I’m sure it is easy to mistake me for being Thai. I mean my light brown/blondish hair, pale skin, and round eyes could fool anyone, but I was still surprised at his comment. I quickly assured him I was American, and he was like, oh, ok. Hmm..maybe my Thai is better than I thought…

Wow, then the perfect end to our perfect day. An soul satisfying meal overlooking the ocean. I didn’t know crab curry, chicken in coconut milk, and vegetables in oyster sauce all mingled and mixed with rice could make me feel so content.

We were sitting, scraping our plates as we watched the sun pinken the sky, discussing how life is meant to be enjoyed and not just breezed through. Im glad that God wants us to rejoice, to eat drink and be merry.

Now I go to work tomorrow. Hmm…can I handle it?

Vietnam in 6 days.. =)

all over the place

2007-10-27T18:18:00.000-07:00

INTENSE

this has been a crazy last two weeks...our new program started up this week and i feel rather overwhelmed and am wondering if i can really handle this whole teaching thing. but i love the 3rd and 4th graders im teaching. they are so eager to ask questions and be responsive to whatever i do. they are quite unlike some of my 9-11th graders who sit there looking too cool and not answering when i ask anything. but of course i like both classes, each one has its' own challenges and joys or whatever...

im going to post a new entry today or tomm, but i wanted to just give the link again to anyone who wants to see a few more pics...snake farm, and autthaya..fun stuff!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/55907373@N00/

will blog soon! =)

DISTURBERS OF THE PEACE

2007-10-16T09:48:00.000-07:00

DEFACING AYUTTHYA

ahh! my thai class ended last friday. i left good ol' krhu pussadee's classroom with bittersweet feelings. i was sad that i wont be learning new thai everyday, laughing at my khru's impersenations of all of us (she always made fun of how i laughed, yawned a lot and would say, "what??!" when i was confused) and hanging out with my korean and japanese classmates. but i was oh so happy to finally have days completely off to do whatever i want! no way!

so with my new found freedom, three of my closest bangkok friends and i decided to go on a small adventure to the old capital city, ayutthya, to see the ruins of wats (temples) and the old grand palace. we hopped a small minivan for 60 baht, equal to a few dollars, to drive us about a little over an hour north of bangkok.

we saw the ruins mainly as a large playground. we clambered up their steep steps to the top where people left goodies for the gods, like milk and doramen stuffed animals. we saw a towering golden buddha in one of the temples, and a buddha head wrapped up in the roots of an old tree. he was all over the place.

one of the last ruins we went to had many buddha statues in a line, all of them were so ancient that the heads had worn/fallen off. so of course, we thought of the brillant scheme, why dont we take pictures with our heads as buddha's head, since he doesnt have one. how fun that would be!

neal, mariha and i got in position just right so that only our heads were popping up over the stone statue. as alice was preparing to take the shot, i see a security guard man come running up to where we are. i smiled, thinking, oh, he is amused at what we are doing. he thinks it's funny and cute!

but as he got closer, he didnt look so delighted. actually he wasnt laughing, but yelling, "no! give me your camera! 200 baht, 200 baht!" we scattered. but he chased us, taking two of our cameras, pressing buttons frantically.

another guard runs up, digs behind the statues to pull up a rusty faded sign that has scrawled on it, "dont climb on ruins" and maybe something else was on there too about taking pictures.. and waves it in our faces. i wrenched my camera away, showing him we deleted the picture, yet he was still yelling, "200 baht!" we kept saying, "no, no!" and scurried away into a clearing. he followed us for a bit like a stray dog hungry for meat, but eventually he lost interest and decided we werent worth the effort and went back to his task of guarding the headless buddhas.

i was sufficently freaked out and kept thinking he was going to get us and send us to the police or something. we didnt want to go back and contemplated jumping the ruin wall and scaling the bushes on the other side to reach the road, but the barb wire fence didnt seem so inviting. instead we just speed walked to the exit and breathed a sigh/laugh of relief once we left.

lesson learned! dont pretend to be buddha. ever. one of our friends was aghast when we told them what we did. wow, it's like if you saw someone pretending to be jesus, stretching your arms on a cross and taking pictures merrily. oh man, when you put it that way it just sounds so bad. oopps..at least we can claim ignorance...

ELITE TIMES

teaching is hard! but rewarding. i have heard that so much, but now i finally truly believe the cliche.

my first few weeks of teaching book club didnt go so hot. the cell book i wrote about earlier that i said i was going to teach, was loved by my students almost as much as i loved it. which wasnt much at all. as a result two students dropped out of my class, one called the director and said she cried everyday the first week of book club after attempting to read the book cuz she didnt understand it. oh the guilt that burned in me! but we didnt chose the book, the main Elite in the states choses the books, and we just do them. so they kept saying it wasnt my fault, but still! i made a student cry my first week! ah!

then after another student dropped out, the education director told me we were going to drop hard cell book no one liked, and do short stories instead. what a relief! and the director had done them before so she already had a lot of lesson plans.

i thought it would be better but this week two more students dropped because they thought it was silly to do short stories and not a real book. oh my goodness! but they said they will come back fo the next book in three weeks. wow, so here goes the new teacher dropping enrollment like crazy.

then at our staff meeting the topic came up on how we dont have as many students registered for classes this month. which means low profits, which means not making budget, which means not being able to give as much money to the non-profit we support as we need to. the discussion led to how the teachers need to make our classes fun so that students want to stay because of loyalty to the teacher. so i was feeling a bit pressured, but i realize that its not really up to me. i know God will give me the strength i need and wisdom for fun ideas. i hope He does at least, cuz i need it bad.

but i really enjoy helping the SAT students, especially when they have questions after class or about their essays. it is sweet to try to help them and then seeing them do better. wow, i guess it is cool to see the whole process of teaching work, you tell them something, they apply it, they improve. what a cool concept when it actually all flows like it should.

FUN STUFF BLURBS:

-i went to the snake farm! we saw snakes get their venom sucked out, and i got to have a heavy smooth rubbery feeling python chill on my shoulders. fun times!

-today i went to the bangkok refugee center to help teach english. i went with alice, who is the other teacher at Elite, and a woman from my church. we went to three different classrooms to teach kiddos. we sang songs, and helped work on pronounciation of tricky sounds like "th", "l", and "r".

most of the refugees are from laos, china, sri lanka, nepal, and congo. i was so excited to see two of my former students i taught during my CELTA training there! i will hopefully be going back every tuesday i have free to teach for an hour or so. but it is so hard to be there, to think of the refugees and how they are stuck-- jobless and homeless, waiting for hope. yet, it is a joy to be there and have a chance to try to love on them and give them a taste of the hope they are waiting for.

-im going to vietnam!! im so excited. ja, the director of elilte, alice, and i are going nov. 4-6 fot the weekend. ja found a super cheap ticket on air asia one day and was like, want to go to vietnam? sure! so were going! im so excited to experience another place...its so sweet how close all these places are that you can just go to another country for the weekend. i feel so blessed..i cant wait!

mondays in bangkok

2007-10-01T08:26:00.000-07:00

SI LUAN (yellow in thai..im learning something!)

i was peering over the second level of the skytrain stop, gazing at the sun already high in the bluer than normal bangkok sky. i always like to look out over the street vendors starting up their sales with the regulars while i wait for the train to come. i feel like a spy, trying to capture every detail so i can report on it later. as usual, after around 5 minutes or so the train arrived..

i stepped over the gap, into the skytrain car. it was 730am, which means everyone in the entire city of bangkok is on the skytrain going to work or school. this is where my old mosh pit skills come in handy, squeezing into a mob of people and standing strong. i try to shift my body weight with the movement of the car, so i dont go crashing like dominos into the sea of yellow engulfing me.

yes, yellow. this is the king's color, and every monday most thais don some sort of yellow polo shirt to show their love and honor for the king. there are many variations, but most have a pink, golden, blue threaded emblem of the king on the left side in the design of what i think looks like a little palace turret. some polos have sky blue collars, others orange. on the sleeves of some, like mine, love the king is embroiderded, or long live the king. and most every thai person wears them, it's like the country is in uniform on monday.

once i got off the train at 8am on in one of the busiest skytrain stations. i started to walk toward my exit, but all the sudden the yellow sea around me was frozen in place. it was like i was in a play, and the other actors froze around me, and i was in the spotlight, the only one still moving. i realized quickly that i should stop too, and that i hadnt noticed the traditional thai music blasting in the station. this is what had triggered the stop in time. at 8am everyday and 6pm music is played to honor the king and pay respect to him by stopping what you are doing until the music stops. good to know.

i had just gotten cozy in my red chair, rocking it back and forth a little. the previews so far had lasted about 25 minutes, most of them promoting local thai films, many of them looked like cheezy teenage flicks, or weirded out excessively gory horror movies. then the lights got darker, ahh..the movie was finally starting. but no...everyone begins to stand around me. i of course follow suit, hoping to avoid being the stared at forienger who doesnt know what she is doing. the familiar, but different melody of traditional thai music drifts gently out of the surround sound. we all are staring at a presentation showing the benevolence and kindness of the king, in all aspects of life. after 2 minutes or so it ends and we sit. the film now has permission to officially begin.

his face is everywhere. emblazzoned on skyscrapers, his portrait is in restrooms, restaurants, even gas stations. he is always sitting there, watching us all in bangkok. yet after awhile you dont really notice his presence. he is just another part of daily life.

it is odd to hardly ever hear anyone talking bad about the king, like i hear people in the states talking bad about the president or anyone in power in the states. it was almost eerie at first for me to see people giving such honor to a person in power. my american self isnt used to such respect for authority. but i must say, he really is a good king. he cares for his people so much, and has been known to go to villages and hand out food to the people there. treating them like they are just as important as the political people he meets with everyday. because they are.

yeah, but it is still weird for me on mondays. i always forget what day it is, and then im gently reminded every morning as im squished in the yellow. it is still hard for me to understand, but i guess i dont really need to. i just need to make sure i stand still when im suppose to, stand up when i should, and never ever ever diss the king.

PRESSING ON

thanks for your care and prayers for me while im trying to grieve. it doesnt seem as real now as it did last week that my aunt is gone. i guess that is how things go. i wanted to be grieving with my fam for awhile, but i know i need to be here. even though it is hard. please continue to pray for my fam..that would be great. it's great to feel love even miles and oceans away from friends. such a blessing..