Coming home.

I’ve been back in the U.S. for almost two weeks, and I still cannot work out how I feel now that I’m back. I’ve definitely been experiencing some reverse culture-shock. I sometimes feel I am only half paying attention to the things going on around me. Some part of my mind is always elsewhere. In some ways it feels like I was never gone - everything is nearly exactly as I left it. People are the same, home is the same, work is the same.

But I’m not the same, and so everything seems strange to me. It’s like Narnia time - a whole month passed for me in this new, wild place and back home it’s like time was just standing still, waiting for my arrival. Of course they weren’t - their lives went on without me and they did things and created things and had experiences I wasn’t part of. So we’re none of us who we were when August started.

Now, hearing Americans speak is embarrassing because we all sound so…bland. I was sitting in on the opening day for staff at work and listening to their bad jokes and stiff, scripted banter and just didn’t care about any of it. I don’t work at a college to listen to middle-aged white guys tell bad jokes. I’m here to work with students who need my help, and to teach leadership skills and teamwork. I’m here to be an advisor for student organizations and be supportive of their goals and missions for the year - and there are so many brilliant, dedicated minds at work in the student organizations on our campus. They are such hopeful people, such talented people, and it’s inspiring to work with them every day. And seeing them makes me glad I’m back, and glad that I have the job that I have.

Simultaneously, I am literally aching to return to Bangkok. It’s one of those feelings I can tell is real and genuine and not just a whim by the way my chest tightens and my eyes go glassy and the back of my throat hurts. It only happens when I am missing someone or something I care passionately about. Thinking too much or talking too much about it makes me cry because now that I’m not there, I have this fear that I will never go back - that I’ll never see Jack or Benz or Bute or any of them again. A very helpful, very sympathetic, very correct friend told me that I shouldn’t worry so much about what I can’t change. Technology has made it easy to keep in touch with the people I miss, so I can still talk to them until the day when I can actually spend time with them again. And she told me that the rest of the world isn’t going to wander off while I pursue some of my goals. The continents will not float off the face of the earth, and the world will not run away from me. And I know that. But it sometimes still feels like it might.

Being back is confusing because suddenly all of these avenues have opened up for me. My boss is trying to get me to go to grad school - he wants to help me get in to NYU to do their interdisciplinary master’s program. There’s a possibility that there might be a job for me soon, at the college where I work, that I could take on in addition to my AmeriCorps duties and continue doing for quite some time if I so chose. And then there’s Thailand, and teaching - an avenue that looks pretty damn attractive from where I’m sitting.

And I know that, at some point, I will have to make a decision about what I want to do next. A year is not a very long time when you consider that the next thing I do will determine the trajectory of my life for at least 2-3 years, if not longer. I am not a very good decision maker. Each decision comes with a million smaller, subsidiary decisions that need to be made. It sets everything in motion. Choosing means that you have eliminated the course that might have been if you’d chosen differently. And while I am at least confident that none of my options would be a wrong decision, and that each would make me happy in varying ways, I’ll still wonder what it was that I lost when the choice was made.

I am bad at endings.

Just said good-bye to Jack, Benz, and Bute. 

This is the part of the evening where I cry. A lot. I managed to keep it together while we were taking pictures, but they all kept saying things like, “You have to come back soon, we’ll miss you too much” and “Are you sure you can’t just stay here?” and “Come teach English in Bangkok so we can see you all the time” and Benz kept coming back for more hugs and Bute was showing me pictures of her daughter (who is adorable).

And then Jack goes, “I wish we had 10 volunteers who were just like you.” That’s when I lost it and had to go back inside before I ended up sobbing uncontrollably in the driveway.

I will miss these three. SO. MUCH.

From left to right: Benz, me, Bute, and Jack.

Thailand: “Do you see now?”

This evening, after spending the day in Ayutthaya (former capitol of Thailand in the 1600s, sacked by the Burmese, making Bangkok the new capitol), I went back to my school for one last visit. The purpose was two-fold: First, to say good bye to Mrs. Tiwawan, who has been nothing short of amazing during these three weeks and has been so welcoming and kind to me. Secondly, to visit the homes of some of the children I have been teaching for the last month.

I don’t honestly know what I was expecting. I knew from the start that Amphawansuksa was what Mrs. Tiwawan called a “charity school,” meaning that the kids who attend the school live in poor communities and get a free private school education, courtesy of the monks at Wat Amphawan. But somehow I was totally unprepared for where I ended up spending my evening. 

I left the school with Mrs. Tiwawan, four student teachers from various universities, and two students. We didn’t drive very far, only a few blocks away, and we pulled off the main road, over a bridge, and underneath a major overpass that runs through Bangkok. And there, in the shadow of a giant concrete mass, was the neighborhood where these kids live. There are two narrow lanes of traffic along one side, and the rest of the space of the overpass is given over to communal eating areas, where people have set up food stands and impromptu auto shops. Down a narrow alley, we walked to one of the apartment buildings that lined the whole street beneath the overpass. Each apartment consists of one room, approximately 10 ft. by 15 ft., and this room is the kitchen, the living room, and the bedroom. For the entire family. The toilets are outside the apartment, down a passage at the end of the building. There is no toilet paper, and they’re squat toilets - a common installment at most rest-stop bathrooms in Thailand. You flush them by dumping a pot of water into the bowl. As we walked down another alley to visit another family, Mrs. Tiwawan said seriously, “Are you looking? Do you see now?”

I did see. I felt intrusive and awkward, even though the kids and their families seemed happy to have me there. I wanted to cry, looking at how little these families had, understanding suddenly why everyone has been so happy to have me. A native English speaker is teaching their children English, giving them an advantage that might help them get good jobs some day. My teacher explained that they wanted to meet me to thank me in person for what I’ve given their kids. I thought about how much money I’ve spent, on plane tickets, on the program, and on gifts and clothes and jewelry. On the one hand, I wanted to un-spend it, but I also knew that without putting in that effort and money, I would not have been able to help the kids whose families were smiling and chatting around me. It was the best possible way to spend my last evening in Bangkok - reconnecting with the reason I came, and realizing the affect that I’ve had just from spending a month here. 

I feel so grateful for what I have, and for the things I have experienced here. I will never, ever forget how this feels.

Thailand: iLoveYou

After all of the intense, emotional sites we visited in Kanchanaburi, it was a relief to do something a little bit more light-hearted. On our first afternoon there, we went to Elephant’s World, which as I said earlier is basically a rest home for elephants who have been abused, illegally obtained, and/or have retired from the logging industry in Thailand (which is now illegal). I was worried that my already teary eyes would just overflow when I saw the elephants, but I was wrong. The second I saw them my whole mood brightened. There is something about an elephant. I don’t know how else to explain it. There’s just something about a happy elephant.

We had arrived just in time for a tour and for bathing time. The mahouts all ride the elephants over to the river, where there’s a platform for visitors to stand on so they’re at the right height to get on the elephant. The mahout on my elephant wasn’t exactly ON the elephant for most of the time. I sat at the front, just behind its head, and he sort of swam around the elephant and made sure it wasn’t going somewhere it wasn’t supposed to. There was a newer baby elephant there as well, and he kept ducking under the water and tossing his mahout all over the place. It was something like the Thai equivalent of watching a boy playing with a puppy, and it put a huge smile on my face.

After bath time was feeding time, and we were given over-ripe bananas to feed to the older elephants who don’t have any teeth left. There’s one elephant who’s blind, so you can’t just hold out the food and let the elephant grab it with its trunk, you have to put it directly into its mouth. I can now say from personal experience that the inside of a toothless elephant’s mouth is slimy and sticky and kind of tickles. I bought a t-shirt there, since all of the money they make goes to the care and keeping of ten elephants and a team of mahouts, not to mention the upkeep on the facilities.

The next day we went to Erawan National Park to swim in the waterfalls. Plural. There are three swimmable levels of waterfall at the park, and getting to them is incredibly easy. There’s a nice trail leading to the 4th tier, where the swimming sections start. Tier 4 is the waterslide level. The water glides over the surface of two large boulders, which are perfectly suited for sliding, and the water at the base of the falls is deep enough that you don’t touch the bottom when you land. The 3rd tier has a much taller waterfall, and if you climb up the rocks at the base, you can sit behind the falls. Which I did, of course. Then the second tier has another waterfall you can swim behind, and a much bigger swimming area, around the size of a large swimming pool. Swimming in waterfalls is kind of an absurdly beautiful experience. The only adjective I can think of to describe it is magical, which sounds kind of hokey, but that’s exactly what it was. It was magical.

This week was my last week of teaching at my school. Whenever I walk down the hallway, the kids run up to me to try to hold my hand, and I can end up with strings of children following me down the hallway wanting to shake hands or get a high five, all of them shouting “Teacher! Teacher!” It’s hard to leave when I feel like I just got started. I feel like they gave me so much, and I didn’t do enough teaching to earn it. But Jack explained the other day that he considers it a gift of our time when volunteers come to teach in the schools, and people just try to make up for the huge amount of effort and money and time it takes to come to Thailand. He says they feel it’s the least they can do. But I feel like they gave me more than I gave them. The people I’ve met here have filled my heart with so much joy and laughter and emotion, and have helped me learn so much. I don’t know that I can ever repay them for that, even if I was here for a year.

This evening we went bowling as our activity. Nothing particularly special, right? Just bowling. But it was amazing. Not because the bowling alley was anything special (even though it was really nice) or because I bowled particularly and unusually well (which I did) but because of the company. There were only six of us: Me, Olivia (my roommate since I got here), Karen (volunteer), Kristine (volunteer), Jack (program officer), and Benz (the long-suffering and incredibly funny van driver). But I’ve spent four weeks with Olivia, Jack and Benz, and two with Karen and Kristine, and we’ve never really had the chance to just spend time together, hanging out. And it was so much fun. There’s a fullness in my heart that I haven’t felt for a long time, and I owe much of it to the amazing people I’ve met here. On the way to go bowling, Jack was flipping through a magazine about home design. His family has some land in the southern part of Thailand and I was recently helping him design a layout for the house he’d like to build there someday. He pointed out a feature about iCondos, designed to run entirely using Apple products. He and Benz started listening them: iBook, iPod, iPhone. Then Benz said something I couldn’t hear. Jack laughed and asked if I’d heard him, and I said I hadn’t. Benz repeated himself and still I couldn’t make it out. Jack said, “It takes a lot of effort for him to say that. Make sure you listen.” So Benz said it one more time.

“iLoveYou.”

Thailand: Connecting with history.

This past weekend, my fellow volunteers and I headed to Kanchanaburi (which translates to ‘City of Gold’). It’s a few hours west of Bangkok, and the scenery is gorgeous. We had hired a tour guide to take us around to some of Kanchanaburi’s most famous sites, including Hellfire Pass, the Erawan Waterfalls, and the Bridge over the River Kwai.

Hellfire Pass was first on the agenda. When Japan invaded Southeast Asia during World War II, their first priority was to build a quick means of transport between Bangkok and Burma. Using labor provided by British and Australian prisoners of war, as well as Asian laborers, the Japanese began construction of the Thai-Burma Railway, more commonly referred to as the Death Railway. Hellfire Pass is one of the places where laborers had to cut through the mountains, and was so named because they were forced to work late into the night by the light of bamboo oil lamps. Combined with the dangerous conditions, hellish diseases, malnutrition, and regular beatings sustained at the hands of Japanese officers, the firelight created hell on earth for the men and women who worked on the railway.

Over 12,000 prisoners of war died of disease, malnutrition, injuries sustained, or a combination of these things. It is estimated that around 90,000 Asian laborers died during construction of the railway. Hellfire Pass is home to the Hellfire Pass Memorial Museum, which was built and is sustained by the Australian government as a tribute to the men who lived and died there. The museum is filled with photographs taken of skeletal men, many of them on the verge of death, being forced to work. Anyone who could stand could work. The Japanese Imperial Army sent out a postcard to the family of each prisoner of war. There was a place for the prisoner to write the name of their loved one, followed by a list of possible conditions the prisoner might be in: I am sick and in hospital, I am in good health, I am working for pay, I am not working. And there was a space at the bottom for them to sign their name and instruct whoever received the card to look after someone important to them, like their children.

After going through the museum, you’re given a listening device for a walking tour of the pass itself. There are remains of railroad ties, sleepers, rails, nails, and even a broken drill-bit still embedded in the rock. People bring silk poppies and tuck them into cracks in the walls, and while you walk you listen to the accounts of men who worked on the railway and lived to tell about it. It’s a deeply moving, incredibly emotional experience. There is no way to imagine the hell these men and women must have gone through, and it truly left me speechless.

I think, somehow, I forgot that Thailand played such a large role in the war in Southeast Asia. There are reminders everywhere: The victory monument in the middle of Bangkok. The JEATH (Japan, England, Australia, America, Thailand, Holland) museum. The fallout shelter display at the zoo. The cemetery we visited where the soldiers who died on the Railway are memorialized. I feel so connected to history here. Seeing World War II through another country’s eyes is an unforgettable experience, and I don’t know that I can accurately describe how intense and emotional that experience was.

Thailand: Contradictions in Expectations

I got back from my weekend trip to Kanchanaburi about an hour ago, and I am exhausted. I will make the time later to write a proper update and include all of the events that took place over the weekend, but for now I have but one question:

How is it that I can spend a weekend hiking around in the jungle and get only ONE mosquito bite, but when I go to sleep in my air-conditioned room in Bangkok I wake up with around twelve new ones?

This country. It baffles me.

Thailand: “That’s definitely bigger than mine.”

It’s been a while since I last posted and there’s a lot to share, so this is going to be a long one. On Friday we took a tour of the Grand Palace and The Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Taking photographs of the Buddha image is not permitted, but the statue looked to be about three feet tall and about as wide, and is carved in the Thai style. It was carved from one block of pure jade, and imagining the size of the block the statue was carved from is a marvel unto itself. Veins of jade rarely reach that size. The temples in the Grand Palace are ornate and beautiful and full of murals and incredible artistry. Our tour guide, a short balding and rather portly Thai man who goes by Steve, was wearing a perpetual anxious smile and was a wealth of information about the history of the royal family, the myths depicted in the murals, and the history of the buildings themselves. His knowledge provided a much more enriching experience of the temples, and I wish I could have thanked him properly instead of the perfunctory “Kob khun ka” that now leaves my mouth at even the slightest of kindnesses done on my behalf.

We also visited the Temple of the Reclining Buddha, home to the largest reclining Buddha image in the world. It fills a temple the height and length of an aircraft hangar, and the tip of its ornamental headwear stops about an inch away from the top-most corner over the entrance. The soles of the Buddha’s feet are inlaid with intricate mother of pearl designs, and the only place you can get a photo of the entire Buddha is from either the head or the feet. The feet make for a better picture.

It was a wonderful Thai history lesson, but the day was also muggy and hot, and the other volunteers and I were glad to get back to the house and have some time to relax. I had just started a book called The Heart of The World, by Ian Baker, about his spiritual, psychological, and geographical journey into the Tsangpo Gorge in Tibet, which until then had remained largely unexplored except by Tibetan pilgrims (who believe that it is the door to a spiritual paradise) and the local wildlife. It’s an interesting non-fiction piece, though I will admit that the whole “white guy forges path into Tibetan holy place” theme was a little frustrating. The author admits misgivings about his role in exposing the inner reaches of the gorge, but he also published the book. So.

After a nice long rest and a shower, myself and the other volunteers got ourselves all dressed up for a trip to Sky Bar. Sky Bar is located at the very top of Sirocco Tower, and its gold-domed top is now famous because of its role in the helicopter scene of The Hangover Part 2. Having a cocktail at Sky Bar makes you feel famous. There’s no other way to describe it. On the 64th floor, there’s less air pollution and a light breeze is constantly ruffling past, bringing the usually balmy night-time temperatures down to a bearable level. The bar is full of sleek, dark wood and dim lighting, and you exit the indoor area onto a patio where a live band plays good jazz. Turning to your right, you go down a wide set of steps that lead down to the main lounge area and the rooftop dining room. The first thing you notice, after the elegance of the ambiance, is the view. The whole of Bangkok is lit up and spread below you like a never-end marquee, fading off into the distance before you can glimpse the place where the city becomes countryside. The Chao Phraya River cuts a dark swathe through the lights and the clouds seem closer than the earth. There’s no cover charge to get in to Sky Bar, but there is a dress code. To play the part of the wealthy tourist, you have to look the part. So I put on a dress and some makeup and bought a pair of reasonably comfortable (reasonably cheap) heeled shoes for the occasion. I have never felt more glamorous in my life than I did on the top of Sirocco Tower, staring up at the golden dome, sipping on my Ginger Gin & Tonic.

Despite my fondness for Sky Bar, I have to admit that the gritty, rowdy atmosphere at Khao San Road is more suited to my wallet - my cocktail cost me 564 baht (about $19) and I can get twice the cocktail at half the cost on Khao San Road. Though it definitely tastes better at Sky Bar.

I kept my weekend activities very low-key after our excursion to the beach and my subsequent sunburn. On Saturday we went to Siam Ocean World, Thailand’s largest aquarium, which is located in the basement level of the priciest shopping mall I have ever been in. I mean, the mall’s basement is a world class, two-story aquarium. That should tell you how nice it is. I’ve always loved aquariums, and this one definitely didn’t disappoint. For about 800 baht, we got admission to the aquarium, a free popcorn and a Pepsi, a “back of the house” tour where you see their filtration systems for the shark/stingray tank, the growth station for shark eggs, and can even go diving into the tank if you’re feeling brave. Also included in the package deal were a glass-bottomed boat tour of the central tank, free admission to a 4D movie (which they didn’t have at the time of our visit), and 10 minutes at the Happy Feet, Happy Fish station, where they have cleaner fish that eat the dead skin off your feet. It tickles like hell, but my feet definitely felt smoother afterward. The highlight of the day was the room full of tanks filled with jellyfish, complete with color changing lights that made them glow in a variety of colors. A close second was the clear tunnel under the shark tank, which is a safer and drier option if diving with them isn’t your thing.

On Sunday we made a trip to the Dusit Khao Din Zoo. Admission for foreigners is 100 baht, which is about $3 U.S. The park in which the zoo is situated is huge, and filled with park-operated food carts. In addition to seeing a lot of local wildlife, they have the crowd favorites like lions, giraffes, zebras, and kangaroos. Also, this charming hippo:

Passing by the elephant house, we were disappointed that they didn’t seem to be in their enclosure. After all, how can you come to Thailand without seeing elephants? But it turns out that they’re very well-trained elephants who are part of a show produced by the zoo, and their skills really are impressive. At the beginning of the show, the large bull elephant let its penis out of its sheath and sprayed the stage with urine. It was literally like a hose on full blast. Then, to proverbially ice the proverbial cake, he dropped a large pile of feces into the puddle of urine with a great splash that sprayed those in the front row. Including myself. Later, when my roommate was describing the experience to program assistant Jack, she held her hands apart to demonstrate the size of the elephant’s penis and said, “Seriously, it was this long!” To which he replied, with his usual impish grin, “That’s definitely bigger than mine.”

But as amusing as it initially was to see the elephants performing on cue, it made me kind of sad. To my mind, training an elephant to moonwalk, play basketball, and play soccer isn’t the same as teaching a dog how to sit or roll over or play dead. The elephants at the zoo are well-loved and well cared for, but it was a sad reminder that there are a lot of elephants in Thailand being exploited and abused; forced to perform under inhumane conditions.

Which is why I’m excited that this coming weekend the new volunteers are joining my roommate and I on a tour of Kanchanaburi province, where we’ll visit Elephant World, a refuge for retired logging elephants as well as elephants found to have been abused or obtained illegally. Its sole purpose for existing is to give the animals the highest possible level of care and the highest possible amount of freedom to do exactly as they please. Elephants in the wild are increasingly rare in Asia, and may soon be extinct unless measures are taken to prevent it. In addition to providing care for the elephants already residing at their facility, Elephant World works to help keep Asian elephants thriving in the wild.

In addition to visiting Elephant World, we’ll be hiking to some beautiful caves, touring the region’s many gorgeous waterfalls, and taking a trip to the Hellfire Pass museum and the famed Bridge over the River Kwai. It’s the best way I can think of to spend my last weekend in Thailand - exploring the natural wonders and the poignant history that make it such a unique place to visit.

Thailand: A way of thinking.

Yesterday we went to a temple in downtown Bangkok, near Khao San Road actually, to meet with a monk and have a discussion about Buddhism. The monk in question said that he’d been wearing the robes since he was 14, and has worn them for over 35 years, which made him 49, but he looked about 35. He has a presence about him that makes you stop and listen. He isn’t loud, he isn’t stern, and yet he commanded the attention of a room full of people and brought all our busy minds to a standstill. When he looks at you, you feel like he sees more than just your face. He was originally from Nepal, but came to Thailand for his Buddhist education, and has been at the temple in question for quite a long time. 

The history of the temple, the name of which means “Supreme Temple” in Thai, is fascinating. It was built by King Rama III (for reference, the current king is Rama IX) and he made his younger brother the abbot of the monastery. As is tradition, the elder brother had inherited the throne and the younger brother had joined the clergy. When Rama III died unexpectedly a few years later, a council unanimously decided that his younger brother should take his place. So he disrobed and left the monastery, and ascended the throne as Rama IV - the same king whose story is told in “The King and I.” The temple has been considered a Royal Temple ever since, and every male member of the Thai royal family has had his 3 months ordination there. It’s tradition in Thailand for all Buddhist men to spend 3 months as a monk, and this usually happens during the rainy season. As it’s the rainy season now, the monastery has about 120 monks in it, but usually the number is closer to 60. There are somewhere around 300,000 Buddhist monks in Thailand.

Our discussion about Buddhism started as a description of daily life as a monk. The day starts early, and they make the rounds of the neighborhood collecting alms from their neighbors. They’re not allowed to have food in the monastery, and they’re not allowed to ask for food, so the people who live next to the temple come out every morning with food for the monks, and that’s how they get their meals every day. Then they eat a light morning meal and go to meditate for several hours. They have another, slightly heartier meal before noon, and are not permitted to eat for the rest of the day. For much of the rest of the day, the monks are in class, or reading, or studying. Buddhism, as this monk described it, is nothing more or less that an endless pursuit of knowledge, specifically knowledge of the self and of the connectedness of all things. The word ‘buddha’ simply means ‘awakened,’ so the Buddha is simply an example of a man who awakened fully and achieved enlightenment. He’s not a god, and Buddhists do not pray to Buddha. Truly, Buddhism is less of a religion and more of a way of thinking.

He told us likes to use Buddhism to question people’s idea of reality. He held up a piece of paper and told us it was water, that it was mist and clouds, because without those things trees would not be possible, and therefore neither would paper. Creating an attachment to something as it is will always end in disappointment, because the nature of the world is to change. If the paper gets wet it will end up as pulp, and if you accept this you will not suffer, whereas attachment to the idea of paper AS paper, even after its destruction, will only cause anxiety. 

Much of the culture of Buddhism in Thailand incorporates Animism, or the belief that there are good and bad spirits, and that everything has a spirit, whether inanimate or alive. It’s an old folk religion that has been adapted to incorporate Buddhist principles, but Buddhism in its purist form doesn’t require belief in any spirits, deities, or gods. In fact, he said that Buddhism is about knowing. Once you know, there is no room for belief, because belief suggests that it isn’t fact. So faith in something, or belief in something, disappears once we have the certainty of facts. 

All totalled, the volunteers must have asked at most 6 questions, and he spoke for about 2 hours, maybe more, covering a wide range of ideas and concepts. From the moment we all set foot in the room, it began to rain heavily. It rained for the full two hours, and by the time our talk with him had ended, the rain had stopped. He took pictures with us, shrugging and saying, “I’m not a celebrity.”

I hope I get the opportunity to hear him speak again while I’m here. Even if I don’t, I’ll carry that memory with me forever.