My birthday (a month later)

I turned 17 in China, and the people there made that birthday absolutely incredible. It was filled with unforgettable moments with friends from all over the world.

My 20th birthday in Thailand couldn't have been more different, but it was equally wonderful.

The day started at 5:30 in the morning (sadly, that doesn't seem absurdly early to me anymore). I had to wake up early to prepare food to give to the monks. That's a very Thai thing to do. Usually they go to the temple and give food there, but nobody had time to take me that morning. I gave food to the monks when they came on their morning rounds of the village.

Then I went to my favorite school for a while. (I teach at 3 different schools, but I like the one closest to my house best.)

The 4th grade gave me their little gifts in the morning. Mostly they gave flowers or little trinkets, but some gave worn-looking stuffed animals. I wish there were a polite way to return these clearly-treasured gifts.

Then I went to the district office, at their request. They'd been telling me for weeks that I had to be there, but wouldn't tell me why.

Here's why:

Each employee gave me a rose or two. By the end, I could barely wrap my 2 hands around them all.

The head of the office (and the village, I think) gave me this bouquet.

Then I went back to the school, and the 5th and 6th grades gave me small presents.

(6th grade girls)

At night, my host mom made spaghetti and some other food. We invited my uncle, aunt, and 2 friends over for dinner. Then we had another cake. I ended the night with another very traditional Thai activity.

In Thailand, it's expected that the birthday person will take care of everyone else. Buy dinner, provide entertainment and refreshments, clean, serve, etc. I played my farang (foreigner) card, because I just don't have the money to take 30 people out to dinner.

But the above picture is an example of this difference between Thai and Western cultures. In the West, it's customary to make the birthday person feel special. Tell them you're happy they're around, etc. In Thailand, the birthday person makes other people feel special. Thank them for everything, etc. So the person sits on the floor while the parents and/or relatives sit in chairs, gives them flowers, and talks for a while.

Part of what was so great about my birthday here was that it involved so many things that could never happen in the US. And the outpouring of affection from everyone was overwhelming.

Then I lost my camera. Life had to bring me back down to earth somehow I suppose!

Leia Mais…

Don't get sick in Thailand

I don't want to insult the entire system here, especially with a sister in medical school (Palm!). But a recent experience has made me think twice about getting hit by cars or falling down stairs during my stay in Thailand.

My left eye was having some issues here. It would get real red and painful for a few days, every few weeks, so finally I let them take me to the hospital. Going to the hospital isn't as serious here as it is in America. People go for allergies, colds, and apparently eye pain.

When we got there (I went with a teacher from school), I filled out a short form. They had me write my parents' names on the back, but wouldn't explain to me why. They took my passport and international ID card and processed everything. It didn't take long. This all happened in a huge, open waiting room. There were probably about 50 people there, most of them staring at me.

Then they took my blood pressure and asked for my weight. I don't know my current weight in pounds, much less kilos, so they took me over to the scale. It was in the middle of the big waiting room. The whole room focused on me, but I thought luckily, they can't read the number!

"Whoa!!! 62 kilos!!!" shouts the nurse. Thanks.

Then I waited for the doctor. The teacher I came with had left me long before to visit with some friends at the hospital, so I waited with some older women who kept asking me if I had a boyfriend. That's a common question, usually from mothers with sons. These women were asking me because, according to them, the doctor I was about to see was extremely handsome!

The doctor was in a dark, dingy little room, open to a bunch of offices behind the waiting room. He was really young, and spoke excellent English. He asked me a few questions about my eye, typing all the answers into the computer. Then he said he needed to look at my eye. In America, eyes are examined by eye doctors, in sterile environments, with expensive tools. Unnecessary in Thailand! Why use expensive equipment when everyone has a flashlight laying around? So he used his bare hands, which had just been typing on an old keyboard, and prodded around my eye with his flashlight.

After all this, he concluded that my left eye is allergic to bike riding and sunshine in Thailand. He prescribed some allergy medication and told me to wear sunglasses.

The whole affair cost me about $2.60. Probably for batteries for the flashlight.

Note: My eye still has problems. My host mom wants to take me to see an actual eye doctor this weekend...I'm a little scared.

Leia Mais…

Direct vs. Indirect Communication

Before coming here, many sources informed me that Thai people don't communicate as directly as American people. Americans have a reputation for saying exactly what we're thinking. Thai people are very careful about the consequences of what they say, I was told, and try very hard to be polite and considerate. So that was the general consensus: American-direct, Thai-indirect.

Not true. It took me a long time to figure out what the actual situation is, but I think I've got it figured out.

Americans are direct about many things. Direct criticism is often appreciated rather than horrifying. Personal feelings, like not liking a particular dish on the table or particular project at work, can be expressed in an acceptable way. Furthermore, emotions (happiness, sadness, anger, etc.) can be expressed. In these areas, Thai people are very reserved and indirect.

But there are things that Americans just don't say. If a friend's new baby is ugly, you do not tell that friend that they have an ugly baby. Anything negative that is obvious is considered rude to call attention to. I'm not sure how much sense that makes, but that's the way it is.

Not so in Thailand. For example, there is an overweight girl in the 4th grade here. The teachers don't just call her fat, they actually call her Fat. As in, "Come here, Fat." Thai people are shockingly open about obvious things, and excessively reserved about everything else.

It took a long time for me to get used to things like this, but I think it's simply stating facts. Thai people aren't offended by these things, so there's no need for me to be.

Leia Mais…

A Few Tidbits

I'm watching a really creepy show right now with puppets and miming and giant mosquitos, waiting another hour before I go to bed. I've thought of little things I've wanted to share over the past few days, so I'm going to do a common post for all of them.

No Thai babies for me...

I will not be bringing any little Thai children with me when I go back (despite them being ADORABLE, I think I will have my fill with approximately 17 classes per week). 

Instead, I plan on stealing this little thing:

SO CUTE!!! She's my uncle's little toy poodle.

Sleepy baby...

Thai accents

I speak Thai with most people here, but they often ask me how to say certain things in English. They have a hard time with certain sounds, like ch, sh, th, r, and final consonants. Most of the time they drop the final consonant, but not always. The letter t at the end of a word usually comes out as an s sound. This makes words like peanut slightly awkward for me when I'm teaching my uncle, my boss, or little children.

Go Alex go!

The other day, a few of the teachers at one of the schools were talking with me, and they agreed that my Thai was the best of all the foreigners that have come here!

Alright, that's all for now.

(I wish I could share this TV show with someone. It's really creeping me out.)

Good night!

Love,

Alex

Leia Mais…

The Best Funeral Ever

First a story...

(Molly?)

I left my fingernail clippers on the table downstairs last week, and I'm pretty sure my host mom did something with them. But I don't want to call attention to the fact that I forgot to pick them up, so I don't want to ask her for them back. My nails were getting really long, and I didn't know where to go to buy new ones. And I didn't really want to spend money for something I already owned.

Anyway. I went to a funeral with my host mom the other day. The dead man was a principal at a school not far from here, and apparently he drank a lot. Death is an interesting thing here. Nobody seems too concerned. Funerals are a common, and often lively, occasion. I don't know if it has to do with their religion's view of death, or the hugely-inclusive family atmosphere. (How much does it really matter when you have 800 other villagers in your family?)

Anyway, the funeral was at a temple. But not just any temple...Monkey Temple! (No, that's not the official name.) So while everyone else is listening to monks chant and people speak in Thai (both get old after the first 10 minutes or so), I watched monkeys try and steal decorations, climb on the temple buildings, and play together.

Then they gave us small souvenirs at the end. Nail clippers! Luckily my elation at this funeral didn't stand out too much, as everyone else seemed to have a pretty good time too.

I'd add pictures, but they're still on my camera and I don't feel like dealing with that now. Another time maybe.

Love,

Alex

Leia Mais…