A day in the life... at Thidamaepra

This was originally written for the Super English website, www.superenglishsurat.com.

I am not a morning person. When my alarm clock goes off at 7 my first thought is inevitably of the snooze button. This gives me 5 more minutes until the clock rudely interrupt whatever path of thoughts I have gone down, which most of the time is figuring out exactly when the next time I can get back to bed for a longer sleep is. In the states what got me out of bed was the knowledge that a hot cup of coffee and a shower were only a few minutes away. Here those to things have been unceremoniously replaced with a bucket shower, and iced coffee which is approximately one half instant coffee, a quarter creamer, and a quarter sugar (This actually isn’t so bad, bucket showers are surprisingly refreshing and more effective than I would have expected). The alarm clock time is the darkest part of my day. I tell you this, not to scare away other morning people, but rather because from this point on the day tends to improve pretty consistently.

My day begins at New Thida, the home for Anubans (kindergarten), and Ps 1 and 2. The students range from age 5 to 7, this means that these kids represent some of the highest concentration of cute in the world. I usually roll into the parking lot around 8:00 with some breakfast in hand (usually sticky rice with sweet shredded pork on it from a roadside stand on my street) and the fore mentioned iced coffee. I settle in to my seat, take a breath and begin to eat and drink, only to have my revelry disturbed when Tristan, the highly experienced teacher across from me, abruptly stands up at attention. The King’s song has begun playing. I leap out of my chair and spin into position facing the flag and the hundreds of children gathered in the center of the school. The song itself was written by the King (or so I am told. Apparently he is an extremely talented jazz musician), and is a catchy, short song that all of the children sing in that spectacularly off key way that only a few hundred 5-7 year old children can achieve. It is endearing to say the least. The flag is raised during this, and if you are particularly lucky, than it is Exercise Wednesday, and once the song has been sung upbeat music is played and the Thai teachers lead the children in a bizarre calisthenics routine. Many of teachers are about as involved as a high school senior a week after they have been accepted into college, half raising their arms, and looking as though they are mentally closer to my home than the school. A few though are really into it, pumping their arms exaggerating their leg kicks and generally rocking out in a way that seems to elevate the involvement of the children around them. This makes for quite a spectacle, and usually does an excellent job of driving away the last remnants of the alarm clock hangover. Soon the calm down music is played and the kids line up and find their way to their respective classrooms, which means I need to finish eating and get myself to class.

            I am the Clark Kent of super teachers, I teach the “regular” classes, meaning that rather than seeing kids on a daily basis, I see my classes once a week for one hour. At fifty kids a class and twenty classes a week I see roughly a thousand children every week. No two days of the week are the same, I have mix of grades that I see, and a definitely a mix of kids. It’s a great way of being kept on your toes, walking to every class you are trying to remember whether this is the class where by minute 40 only one kid is paying attention (the same kid every week) or whether it’s the one where the Thai teacher has managed to corral them sufficiently that you can actually accomplish a full lesson plan. Lesson planning is easier as a regular teacher, I have wide spread of classes, P1, P2, P3, P5 and P6, but really I only need one lesson plan for each of these levels. There a couple classes that have distinguished themselves as either spectacular and needing a more challenging plan, or, shall we say, less advanced and in need of a more basic plan. But for the most part, only one plan is needed for each grade level.

Entering the class room is bizarre experience, about half way between the door and the desk on the far side of the classroom the kids will notice you have arrived and one small voice will belt out, “SA-TAND UUUP, PLEEEASE” and the entire class stands, “Gooood morning, TEAAcher”, to which the proper reply is, “Good morning class, how are you?”, and they will say “We are HAPPY, YAAAY, and you?” and you tell them you are fine and that they may sit down. If you “forget” to tell them to sit and just start teaching than in a few minutes you will be surprised to find them all still on their feet. Whoops. A fifty minute class is short enough so that you only need 2-3 sections, less if there are extended games, so planning for the classes does not present any significant challenge. The difficulty comes in holding their attention for more than 5 minutes at a time. This challenge varies significantly based on two factors, the class, and the Thai teacher. A good class can be good independent of the teacher, but these are exceedingly rare. A good Thai teacher means that the class will at the very least be minimally disruptive if not focused. I have some teachers whose presence is enough to silence the most rambunctious classes, and others that actually contribute to the problem by plopping down in the back of the class and either doing their own work or even actually talking to kids while you try to teach. Sometimes all you can do is find the 5 kids who are interested and teach to them.

            After two classes there is a half hour break which is usually spent in half dazed conversation with a couple other teachers as you try to regain some of the energy that it takes to engage fifty, 7 year olds. The good news at this point is that there is only one more class before lunch. Lunch is free, and varies in quality, but usually provides something that is at least edible, if not enjoyable. This is a fun time of day, because many of the super teachers have this same time off for lunch, and all congregate at one table. It is time for a word about the structure of New Thida. It was built much like a Mario Kart64 battle stage, the so called “Donut”. On this stage there was a circular track on the outside where the players were safe, except from each other, but in the middle is a pit filled with lava. New Thida has 5 floors, each shaped much like this stage, a path surrounding the center of school, which is a vast open space. It is so vast and open that walking across it seems to initiate some long buried evolutionary instinct that makes you a little nervous. Its like you are at the bottom of a ravine with no hiding spaces for you, but plenty for your predators. During class it is like a ravine, after lunch, it is much more like the lava pit. The children are loose and going crazy from an influx of sugar and you are faced with a choice, the relative safety of the outer path, or the most direct route of walking straight across and being pinched, poked, high fived, aggressively hugged and pulled in every direction by hundreds of children ravenous for your attention. Personally, when the pit is filled I enjoy walking through it, it provides quick but fun interactions with many of the kids, and it’s relatively rare that one of them will either straight up kick you, or grab your butt. But make no mistake; the post lunch pit is no place for the meek.

 For the lucky few that have no class in the next block they get to drift across the street and get an iced coffee or tea (for 15 baht, it is probably the best iced coffee bang for your baht in town). It’s a pleasant break from being in the schools and is generally very relaxing. Also, if you couldn’t eat the school lunch for some reason than they serve an excellent fried rice here as well. Typically there is at least some free time after lunch, whether you have a class or not, and at this time I am typically either scrambling to fix lesson plans that clearly weren’t working earlier in the day, or if I am lucky relaxing and checking the various sports scores that were happened while I was teaching that morning. The break inevitably ends, and my next class is at Old Thida. If New Thida is like the “Donut” level of Mario Kart, than Old Thida is more comparable to the “Block World” one, where there are 4 different large platforms, each with three levels, and small tracks connecting them at the top. Each grade has its own hallway, and each hallway has its own floor, and each floor has at least 16 stair cases that, much like Hogwarts, take you to a completely different part of the school than you started in. Ok, maybe the stairways are exaggeration, but when you aren’t used to the school, or are going to a classroom you have never been to before than the layout seems like it was designed to keep grave robbers away from the Pharaoh’s tomb. This also means that it is approximately as non-handicap friendly as it can possibly be, I have spent chunks of time trying to figure out how to make it less handicap accessible and couldn’t think of any, maybe more random 4 inch drops in the floor, but there are already enough of these. All of the class rooms are very open on two sides; one wall is windows, and the opposite wall is fully open to the hallway. I’m told this design element is featured because of the crazy hot weather which happens most of the year, though it serves a duel purpose of allowing as much noise to enter the classroom as possible. In the worst situations the windows are facing the street and the doors the center of the school, so that many days you have traffic noise flowing in from one side, and the pleasant sounds of a school assembly, or a raucous gym class on the other. This leads to you have to speak at your loudest, or, if you will, scream in order to be heard. Classrooms like this however are the minority, even if they are the very loud minority. Most of them have reasonable acoustics and don’t leave you hoarse and tired.

Old Thida is also host to a very different age group, P3 all the way to M6’s, the seniors of the Thai school world. Thus it requires a very different kind of energy than New Thida. With these kids it helps to occasionally walk out into the rows of desks and put kids on the spot, with simple questions about what you were just going over. This has two benefits, first it gives you a decent idea of how many kids are actually understanding/ paying attention, and second nothing really pulls the focus of the rest of the class quite like the possibility that they could be called on next. Inevitably, about 10 minutes into any class the students will start raising their hands to say, or perhaps just shouting out, “Teacher, play game, play game!” To which I usually respond by having them repeat it, “Teacher, may we play a game please?” than considering it for a brief second before either saying, “no”, or telling them if they do well in class than we can play at the end. Their favorite game, by far, is 7-up; a game that I honestly believe they could play for a full school day with out getting bored. At the end of class it is often important to have them do some writing that deals with the lesson rather than having them play a game since they will not being seeing me, or likely thinking about what we learned that day for seven more days having it in their own writing is a good way to cement it in their heads.

By the time the last class ends, 3:30 at the latest, I am usually quite ready to dash for my bike and start pedaling. Most days I swing buy a stand on the way home where a very nice and sociable Thai woman named Nok makes various drinks, the best of which is a mixed fruit shake. No matter how stressful, frustrating, or delightful and surprising the classes were that day there is nothing quite like a fresh fruit smoothie for .60 cents to remind me of some of the most basic charms of living in Surat Thani. 

Paradise, for a dollar a night

            A couple of weeks ago the school I teach at had mid-terms, which meant that I had Thursday and Friday off. Despite the fact that the days we don’t work we don’t get payed for, and as we have an entire month coming up filled with those days I chose to view this as an opportunity rather than an “oh crap”. Granted, its not difficult to convince yourself to look favorably on a long weekend in the short term. I wanted to go do something interesting, relaxing, and away from hoards of people, preferably some place I could camp. I started asking around, getting various suggestions, but the best suggestion I received came from the owner of a local bar, Ang Thong National Marine Park. This is a string of islands near the well known destinations of Koh Samui and Koh Panang, and while the park is frequented by tour boats for day trips, it is rarely an overnight destination. Once I started telling people I was planning on going I started hearing more and more good things about this spot, and started to get more excited and gain higher expectations.

            The boats for the island leave once a day around 8am from either Samui or Koh Pangang. This presents a slight problem that I had to get to an island that was 5 hour ferry ride by that time, but luckily the ferry system provides and excellent and only mildly inconvenient solution, the night boat. The night boat leaves Surat Thani at 11pm and gets to the islands between 5 and 6am. On weekends, or the nights before a Full Moon Party (I’ll talk about one of these later) the night boat is sometimes synonymous with party boat, but on a Wednesday evening it was a pretty laidback affair, no fighting for position on the mats, and no tourists attempting to be constantly drinking for 48 hours. Side note for tourists: Just because you are on vacation it does not make it appropriate to walk around a town stumbling drunk and shirtless. The night boat doesn’t provide a good nights sleep, but it does make the ride slip by when you are in and out of consciousness. Usually you are arriving (and waking up) shortly after the sunrise and the world is soaked with that beautiful light that only exists for an hour or so a day. Buying the ticket to the Park was easy, as was killing a couple hours eating breakfast and trying not to fall asleep in a restaurant. The boat to Ang Thong was one of the few times I have been cold in Thailand, but this was as much due to the movement of the wind as it was to the on and off rain that was falling. I ended up listening to all of Revolver, which sped things along nicely.

            By the time we came into view of the islands the rain had become fairly constant, though not heavy. We got off the boat on an island that is famous for having a large lagoon in the middle of it. It looked somewhat like a movie volcano top, tall walls surrounding the hole in the middle. There is a small hike up stairs to get over said walls, which was mildly precarious due to the rain making it a little slippery, but only about a 3 on the danger scale (1 being lying in bed on a mild day, 10 being a Jets fan in one of my classes last Monday). The lagoon was beautiful and lived up to its name, the emerald lagoon, the water was a deep green and it was surrounded by lush jungle. When I had had my fill of looking down at it, something that happened rather quicker than it might have to the press of overweight and shirtless tourists that were beginning to fill the view platform, I walked down to the water. I wasn’t certain what to expect, I suppose I thought the water would be cloudy, and I might see a small, boring fish or two, but this is what I should have expected if I were going to a lake in central Maine, not to a lagoon on an island off the coast of Thailand. The water was crystal clear and teeming with life. Sea Urchins sporting huge spines dotted the rocks, dozens of small fish were darting around, an intimidating large fish strolled out from under some rocks and swam under the plat form I was standing on just as a beautiful, multi colored sting ray glided in from deeper waters. I was taken aback. It turns out the Emerald Lagoon was created by a massive sink hole collapsing, and while it looks to be completely land locked it is apparently connected to the ocean by an underwater cave, making it possible for the wide array of sea life to make its way in.

            The stop at this island was actually fairly short, only an hour or so and we were getting back on the boat and having lunch, a good but unremarkable masaman curry. The next stop, was the last of the day for me, as it was on the island that I was planning on camping on. This island has three natural attractions, a long, fine sand beach, a limestone cave, and a hike up to a spectacular view point. They offer some snorkeling equipment, but after trying it out for a few minutes I found this to be pretty boring, there was no coral or exciting fish, only clear water, white sand, and some seaweed. I decided to check out the cave. It is a short hike up to the cave but a fairly steep one and enough of a challenge that the people that were trying it in flip flops or bare feet usually turned around pretty quickly. The hike was made more interesting by the rain having turned any dirt into slippery mud, and any rock into a very short water slide. But, the hike was short and simple enough that it wasn’t really a problem. The cave was interesting, but not mind blowing. The stalactites and stalagmites had some crazy shapes and patterns, but frankly, it seems like caves the world over are pretty similar. This one was a bit nicer because it was quite open allowing a good amount of natural light to illuminate it. The way back down the trail was actually a little easier than the way up because of a rope that ran along most of the trail as a means of supporting yourself down the steeper, and currently more slippery, sections.

            By the time I got back the boats were starting to leave and the rain seemed to have finished for the day, so I went to see the ranger to talk about where the best place to pitch my tent would be, and to pay for my over night stay. He let me pick the driest spot I could find, and charged me 30 baht for the night, or the equivalent of one American dollar. Pretty good deal for a spot in paradise. By 3:00 the island was almost completely empty, with only the rangers, maybe five other tourists and me. I took a walk on the beach and around 5:00 I started eyeing the hike up to the view point, which was closed due to the rain. I looked at the sign, and found it was only a 500 meter hike, “chump change” I thought, “It must only be closed to out of shape and aging tourists, not to a spritely young lad like myself!” and so after setting up my tent I popped on my hiking boots and took off. There are four view points, at 100 meters, 200m, 300m, and one at the very top. This was another trail that had a rope provided for assistance in getting up and down it, and as it turns out it was needed. What I had neglected to notice on the sign was that despite being only a 500m hike, it was 262m vertical as well, meaning that for every two meters forward, I went one meter up. This would be tiring on a normal day, with out a doubt, but the days rain had added a bit of a thrill to the whole process. The views were amazing, getting more impressive at every landing, and being in the jungle always provides something interesting, and this day it was monkeys. Dusky Langurs to be specific. At the second scenic overlook I was surprised to find one sitting on a branch only five feet from me, calmly eating leaves and occasionally looking over its shoulder at me. These Langurs are most recognizable by the white rings around there eyes which give them a very intelligent look. It is amazing how much adding emphasis to the eyes can make any creature or drawing look significantly more intelligent. After soaking in the monkey’s company I started back up the trail, and began thinking about how amazing the sunset would be from the top.

About half-way between the third view spot and the top I heard a sound that made my heart stop mid-beat. A baby’s cry. I froze, and couldn’t believe it. I knew there was no one else on the trail, and even if there had been, no parent would bring there child on this hike, especially not with its slippery state. Slowly I started, I must have heard some strange bird and mistaken it for the cry of an infant, but only a few steps later I heard it again. Loud and clear, a single wail, clearly from a baby, clearly somewhere off in the jungle. I was torn, I knew it would be crazy to just plunge into the jungle on a mountain where I was likely to fall, be knocked into a coma and slowly die as search parties wandered only a few feet from where I was lying, but on the other hand, there was a freaking baby out there. I started off the trail when I heard it again, and realized that something was a little strange about it. How often had I heard a baby give one cry at sporadic intervals rather than a steady and sustained cry, “My god, it must be hurt or weak!” I take another couple steps off the trail trying to be quiet to hear the call and find the direction it was coming from, and thinking that it was f***ing crazy. I heard the cry again, and than a sound that made me laugh with relief, a hooting monkey. I was hearing a baby, but I was hearing a baby monkey, not a baby human. I breathed and looked around and sure enough not far away was a tree with four or five monkey’s hanging out and keeping an eye on me. Relieved, I took the few steps back to the trail and starting walking, “either that was a baby monkey, or that’s a baby that’s about to be raised by monkeys.” Either way I felt it was a situation that did not require my further attention.

The top was stunning. The view easily took my breath away and left me standing there open mouthed. Islands, at least a dozen, stretched out into the ocean, disappearing into the haze shimmering on the water. It was truly spectacular, and very worth the ball busting hike it took to get there. As I was standing there, soaking in the evening light I was surprised once again by a monkey. This time it emerged out of the bushes behind me stood, perhaps 10 feet away staring at me. A rather haunting thing given the wise aura that the white rings around its eyes gave it, and after ten or fifteen seconds it turned and moved past the “No entry” sign, and left my site. I was still processing what had just happened when the monkey popped back up 10 feet further up the mountain and again turned to stare at me. Again it disappeared and again it popped up and stared at me only a few feet farther up the mountain. I am not a big believer in signs, but this was quite bizarre. The strange behavior of the monkey, combined with my desire to ignore the “no entry” sign and climb higher meant that there was really only way to interpret this, I should follow the monkey. 

So follow I did, and it was immediately apparent why the did not want travelers going up the way. The rocks were sharp and there were many sudden dips and drops and if you tilted and fell to your right you would end up with a good long time to make some peace with the world before crashing into the forest below. I climbed for about five more minutes until I came to a spot that I might have been able to pass if I had been well versed in parquet, and stopped. The monkey wasn’t there waiting to deliver some life message to me, but there was gold. Not coinage or jewelry but an entire island of it. One of the islands had a large, bare cliff facing west; the light of the setting sun had fully caught it while I was climbing. I was told when I was younger that the hour before sunset was called the golden hour for photographers, because the light was so soft and so unique that it produced some of the best pictures possible. This was the golden hour.

As I sat enjoying the sunset, it dawned on me that the sun was setting. In addition to being beautiful, it also meant that the spectacular light it was providing was fading quickly, and this meant that in addition to having repel myself down the incredibly rocky water slide I had just climbed, I was going to have to do much of it in the dark. Goody. I started down, got back to the viewing platform and began down the actual trail. In many ways going down was easier than going up, mostly because of the rope. Actually, with the rope it was rather fun, and I found myself going much too fast, doing stupid things like jumping, and intentionally sliding down slopes while holding the rope. Despite my stupidity I made it out alive, and with only a few bumps and bruises. At the bottom I got dinner and watched Terminator on the restaurants TV. After dinner the ranger was playing songs on his guitar, all in English and many songs that I was familiar with. The best song, by far, was entitled “Don’t Eat My Cat” a tribute to Gon’s (the Ranger) cat. Also listening to the music were two beautiful German women, an actor and a director, who turned out to be excellent company over the next day and a half (“Yeah, I did the hike earlier, but you know what, I bet it would be fun to do again tomorrow with you two!”).

 If this entry gets any longer than not even my mother will bother finishing it, so I will let a few pictures tell the story.

Christmas in Thailand

Christmas has a bizarre spot in American culture. We are very dependant on it economically, to the point where it is advertised for about 9 months a year. For the month of December it is impossible to go anywhere and not see Christmas, it adorns our store fronts, comes out of the radios and works its way into our conversations. Everyone in the states, regardless of religious denomination seems to be swept up in “the Christmas Spirit” because its now more of a national holiday than religious one. This is not the case in Thailand. Its more akin to a religious holiday still, where you are aware its happening, probably know a couple celebrating it, but even if stores are putting up decorations its not so pervasive as it is in the states. It took some recalibrating to enjoy Christmas in this snowless environment, it was a slow process but, by the time the 25^th rolled around I was in a pretty good state of mind for the entire affair. I woke up to skype with my immediate family on their Christmas eve, we simultaneously watched It’s a Wonderful Life from opposite sides of the globe. Have I mentioned how much I love technology? That, in a real sense, was my Christmas, and it was after this that my Christmas in Thailand really started. The following is the story of my Christmas day.

I knew something was strange. The man that was making my som tom was looking up at me with some unidentifiable expression on his face as he was pounding the dish with his mortar. He held up an uncooked crab, I considered it, nodded, and he threw it in. I got a second hint something was off when, after I had sat down at table of store next door the maker of my food moseyed over and began speaking to the owners of the shop, a wonderful couple that I’ve started to get to know since arriving. I began to eat, the first bite was good, had the flavor and kick that all good som tom should have. The second bite was very hot, and I made the ill advised move of drinking water to quench the fire, a mistake that no matter how many times people warn me about I continue making. The chef was sitting there expectantly, trying to be nonchalant; I pointed at the food, and gave a thumbs up, “good, thank-you”. He waved at his mouth making the universal sign for, “your mouth is burning with an intensity and passion that you didn’t think was possible isn’t it?” to which I shrug, nod, wave at my mouth and take another bite. Now, I have an appreciation for hot food, I love hot wings in the states, and I have never been stingy with my stars at restaurants, I consider a hot dish a welcome challenge, and if you can get past the heat there is usually excellent flavor behind it. But this burning in my mouth was not obeying the rules set forth in the human-spicy foods treaty, it was not decreasing, or even plateauing. No it was increasing in intensity, and suddenly it was not doing so at such a relaxed pace. My roommate has just woken up and was smoking a cigarette on our stoop and I saw this an opportunity to save face, I coolly and casually leatp from my seat, and with the urgency of a man running from hornets I strolled over to my roommate. I don’t even remember what I said, I think it was something rather disparaging about the cook and “Hottest ******* thing I have ever eaten”. I was still expecting the burning to at least slow if not stop, but it did not. I was suddenly pacing around in a circle listening to the hearty chuckle of that evil, fat, som tom chef from a few feet away. Time for round two, I went into the store and bought some Milo, basically chocolate milk, and return to the table, determined not to loose to this food (No I don’t have competition issues, and yes you can definitely win or loose meals. Shut up).

            The Milo felt like a genuine Christmas miracle, the screaming in mouth was almost silenced; the landscape was now more akin to a parking lot on a hot day than a prairie fire. Unfortunately the Milo provided only a momentary respite, the burning returned shortly. After two bites I am near tears, but I’ll be damned if I let that smarmy punk spice me out of my lunch. The burning was still there, though it was less intense, whether this was because of the Milo or the fact that my nerve endings were sending in their resignation letters I’m still not sure. The wife of the owner came out and saw my face, recognized the look of a oral burn victim and came over to look at my dish. She frowned and walked over to the chef, seems to chastise him for a few moments than returned with a packet of rice intimating I should eat it with the som tom and it will reduce the spicines. A minute or so later the owner, who’s English is spectacular comes out and offers me a small bowl of mushroom soup, “My wife make this, its not so hot, good for you!” I offer my sincere thanks, and use it to clear my mouth for an attempt at round three.

I took two more bites and couldn’t take it, my nose was Niagra, and my eyes were rapidly filling. I had to polish off the milo and dive into the soup. By this time the chef has joined me again, and the wife of the owner who is sitting at the table was frequently miming hitting the chef in the head with what I imagined to be a cast iron frying pan. Soon the chef is on his way, driving off with his motor bike based stand leaving me feeling as though Thai food had finally, truly and completely kicked my ass. The wife points at my bowl and says “for me, one!” I was a little confused so she re-iterates, this time however, I saw she was not pointing at the general dish, but one of the MANY small peppers that populate my bowl. That punk had given me easily 6-7 peppers. I was stunned, but this explained so much about the last half hour of my life that I couldn’t be angry. How could I be? The food may have been heinously hot, but it sure was an experience, and one that brought me a bit closer to my neighbors, on Christmas no less, the best time of the year to be brought closer together.

Later that evening I brought a pot of fresh coffee (my glorious parents had sent beans and a French press as a Christmas gift) to my neighbors to thank them for helping with my extreme lunch, and of course to wish them a merry Christmas. We enjoyed the coffee, laughed about the som tom and once the coffee was gone they brought me a beer and began filling, and refilling my cup. Soon my roommates had come out, and we were all enjoying Christmas beers talking about Thailand and its quirks with our neighbors. I noticed the owner of the shop was cutting up a lime, I thought, “dear god, if he is making cocktails than he is going to drink me under the table!” but soon he offered a slice of lime to my roommate and I, “Is that sweet or sour?” We were dubious, it was a lime, of course it was sour, but we obliged, tasted the slices, and sure enough, they were sour. He than gave us each a small berry shaped a bit like a bean, and told us to eat it and try the lime slice again. We chewed the berry; it tasted fine, anything but an extreme taste, and tried the lime. This time it was more akin to candy than a citrus fruit. Both of us looked up in shock, and asked what the berry was, “Miracle fruit!” our neighbor said laughing. It was a unique gustatory experience certainly, and one that lasted longer than either of us wanted it to. Our beers tasted more like sugar water the rest of the night, the dinner I had later could have been good, I don’t know, it tasted like candy. It was bizarre. It was Christmas in Thailand!

Khao Sok it!

In retrospect my big mistake was congratulating myself for doing so well in the first month. “Damn Mike, you are really doing much better with this blog than you anticipated good work!” quickly turned into, “Hmmm, I should probably do one today, buuuttt I HAVE been doing good job…” than into, “Blog?” Ashamed of my collapse, I am attempting a comeback.

This past weekend was a pantheon level one, many things came together, weather, location (oh my location), stress levels prior too, and need to be somewhere other than the city made this trip spectacular. While checking my email, I found out that the Red Sox had acquired a player that had been on my wish list for 3 years, which was exciting in and of itself, but it led to a simple and obvious realization that I would have said I understood, but really probably didn’t prior to that moment. Life goes on. Seriously. There are no breaks, no vacations, no pauses, skips, rewinds or fast forwards. Nothing we do can alter that in the slightest of ways. I was in the jungle, having seen some of the most spectacular landscapes in the world, and on the other side of the planet my favorite baseball team was making offseason moves. Its one of those weird things that I thought I understood, but in the end really just knew how to pay it proper lip service.

Khao Sok national park is the largest Jungle in southern Thailand. I arrived on Friday, taking a minibus after missing the cheaper regular sized bus by approximately 17 seconds. While booking the min-bus I was talking with the man who was writing out the ticket when it came up that I was a teacher. His expression and demeanor immediately changed from what is clearly a polished poise for tourists to a much more relaxed and human character, he knocked 10 baht off the bust ticket, and offered to call his friend and book me a discounted room at their resort, and really, who am I to say no to such a generous offer? The resort turned out to be a very pleasant place, run by people that made me feel like I was the only guest, (The Khao Sok River Valley Lodge, very near Khao Sok Jungle Huts, I can’t recommend them highly enough) and my room was a decent sized hut that was about 15 feet in the air on stilts. The owner’s wife walked through some of my options for the following day, and ended up helping me settle on the 1 day lake and cave tour, a great decision.

At 8:00 they served breakfast, an actual pancake with some fresh pineapple and mango juice (it’s a tough life here sometimes). At 8:30 I was picked up and brought to the beginning of the lake where our tour guide Paul, a nice guy and great tour guide collected 200 baht for the park entrance fee (later that evening we discovered that the entrance fee was free for the weekend due to the King’s birthday), and shortly 12 of us were piled into a long boat and zipping across the lake. It was approximately a one hour ride to the other end where we would begin hiking to a cave. But forget the cave for now, the boat ride took me through the most spectacular landscape I have ever encountered. Forget everything you know about valleys, there were no gently sloping hills, or even steep hills leading down to the water. No, this valley had 200 foot cliffs erupting from the water, dripping with jungle. It was as thought there were once mountains there, but only this small fraction of the mountain thought it was worth sticking around. Some have narrow inlets where the walls of two cliffs tower maybe 30 feet apart on their way up. It is the only place I have ever been where the tour guide could have said, “And while they recently left for the coming hot season Dragons inhabit these cliffs roughly nine months of the year.” and I would not have blinked. The weather was spectacularly co-operative for the entire day, cloud cover breaking enough for it to feel sunny, but not enough that it got to hot. Additionally, I don’t think that there are too many places that actually become more impressive on a cloudy day, but low hanging clouds among some of these cliffs gave the impression that they never stopped, and added an air of mystery and mysticism that was awe inspiring.

We arrived at the other end of the lake, a small tourist outpost with little floating shacks for over nighters and a nice dock area with seating, kayaks (free for those on the tour) and a backdrop of legit jungle. We had approximately an hour to swim, kayak, read or lounge before lunch. The water was about as pleasant a temperature as can exist, and the opportunity to kayak away from the 4 Russians who had been drinking consistently since the tour began and consequently had been getting closer and closer to shouting their conversations, was very welcome. Lunch was good, a fish that seemed to have spikes instead of fins (presumably fresh from the lake) and an assortment of chicken and veggie dishes to go with rice. Than it was time to strike out into the Jungle towards the cave which, according to the descriptions of the tour, was considered to be the highlight of the park (not the case). The hike was among the least strenuous hikes I have ever encountered, but it was still very interesting as it was through the FREAKING JUNGLE! If you are unable to tell, I was every excited to go into the jungle, which I have wanted to see since I did a report on rain forests for my fourth grade science class. The path was flat, but we crossed a lot of streams, many of which had tiny waterfalls either just ahead or below where we were crossing. The jungle itself was peppered with Bamboo stands, vines of shapes and sizes (including, but not limited to green and spiky, thin and read, brown and spiraling, and the kind that you can actually swing on, Tarzan style), some mushrooms that were a bright, translucent orange, tarantula nests, and some crazy trees that looked as though the roots started about 6 feet above ground. The cave that we were trekking to had been used as a hide out by communist students who were fighting the Thai Gov’t in the 70’s. It was a great hiding spot, the middle of a jungle and an entrance that you had to duck to use, than a river flowing through it so that some swimming was required to get very far (side note: apparently it is stupidly dangerous anytime its raining, which seems to be every day from late October until, well now. So was fighting the Gov’t something they only did 10 months out of the year? I am confused). They cave was impressive, formations that take an unfathomable amount of time to develop pepper the entire thing. Many of the surfaces are covered in small up and down ridges as though someone had taken a small toy rake meant for the sand box and very carefully made them. It was impressive, but I found the cliffs and jungle to be more interesting.

Talking with our tour guide, and being amazed at some of the things he was able to pick out of the jungle, or on the shore as we were speeding by in a boat, it reminded me that people live in places like this. Its very easy to forget, that even though they are tourist destinations, people grow up and live in these places, and our guide at least, seems to appreciate it. The shirt he wore much of the day combined with his relaxed attitude and seemingly content state was a nice caption for the day

Thai Teaching

Kids are kids, are kids, are kids. That being said, there is a world of difference form kids on this side of the world, and the ones in Benton, Maine. This shouldn’t be shocking as growing up in Surat Thani has maybe three or four things in common with growing up in Benton, but the bigger difference is the schools themselves, and what I am doing at them. In the states, even as a substitute, your job is to keep the classroom environment a reasonably calm, structured level for a learning environment, but this is not the case as an ESL teacher in Thailand. Here the every day teachers still prowl the lines of desks holding rulers or switches ready to rap the knuckles of any ill behaved child. The style of learning revolves around sitting quietly and repeating, or copying what the teacher says or puts on the board. Thus, when a goofy foreigner comes into the room and starts behaving strangely there is an almost palpable release of tension from the kids and they go off the deep end a little. Screaming, walking around, and even occasionally actually paying attention are all common responses.

When you first walk in to the class room kids are talking enough to create a dull roar, and by the time you are about five feet into the class room a small voice pipes up above the rest, “Stand up pleeease”. Suddenly, the noise stopes, chairs or benches scrape and the class is standing, “Gooood morning Teacher”. Suddenly, they are not only standing, but staring expectantly at you. “Good morning class, how are you today?” What happens next depends on the age group, in P3 and up students will respond “I am fine thank-you, and you?” but in P1 and P2 the kids respond, “I am happy… (all fifty, in perhaps the most rehearsed expression of joy ever throw their arms up and wave them twice)”. The next thing you must say is “thank-you class, you may sit down now.” If you do not say this, the children will remain standing, I’m not sure for how long, but I have a suspicion that it might be the entire class. From this point on in the class there must constantly be crazy, exciting, funny or loud things happen or the class is lost to you. I started off making lesson plans, but pretty quickly realized that what you actually need is a routine. It seems like very little actual learning went on, which distressed me at first. But, I quickly realized that if you are seeing a class of 50 P1-P6s only once a week for one hour, you cannot deliver a lesson and expect retention. The best you can do is keep them entertained and using English for the hour that you are there.

Also, we had a freaking monsoon day... It made me curious what would happen if they got snow. probably apocalypse.

Mike goes to the beach

Today was my first day out of the city Surat Thani. I left a city which has been growing on me by the day to go to my first Thai beach. Wow. About 45 minutes or so outside of Surat is a beach town called Khanom, which we will get to, but first the ride there its self is worth addressing. In addition to the tropical flora, which still blows my mind because I have only lived here a week, the landscape itself is stunning. Driving along the land appears to be reasonably flat, no big hills, no mountains in the distance, when almost without warning there is a hill that bursts out of the flat lands. A hill may not sound particularly impressive, but this is a hill which you would need rock climbing gear to ascend. Its more reminiscent of the lonely mountain than blueberry hill. I spent a good deal of the day trying to guess at what could cause such a geographical oddity, and still am not particularly close to an answer I am comfortable with. I assumed that something this strange must be a rare thing, and I was very wrong. Nor was the first one anywhere near the most impressive, as you get closer to the coast it seems like the landscape is dominated by them, some much taller and still skinnier, some much like a regular hill, but rather than ending a gentle slope it looks as though a massive ninja cruised through chopping down the hills that looked at him the wrong way. Oh, and they are all covered in Jungle. Ridiculous.

Speaking as a boy born and bred in Maine, my experience with beaches typically include a lot of rocks, freezing water, sea weed, and a lot of character building. This Thai beach resembled this in… well really no way at all. We pulled up to a sprawling fine, white sand beach which was flanked by massive hills (one had a small island off its tip, as someone looked at it and decided it wasn’t quite perfect enough, and added the island), and after about 200 feet of sand met a beautiful mixture of blues and greens rolling up to shore. Palm trees marked the separation between the resort area (filled with pleasant looking bungalos) and the beach, and this is where we set up camp for the day, under a wooden umbrella with comfortable beach chairs. Soon someone came out to take orders for food and drink, I had a clear curry with fish (this was the first dish to officially kick my ass with spiciness in Thailand), and a quick dip was had while the food was made. The water was pleasant, warm enough that you could spend hours swimming with out getting chilly and cool enough to make it worth it. The rest of the time at the beach was spent between reading, napping, and occasional dips, really a blissful way to spend a day in what amounted to a tropical paradise. In most situations this would have been the full day, we would have caught a bus back to Surat, probably sooner than we had to because we didn’t want to miss the last one, and it would have still been a wonderful day. But this was not most situations. We had been brought to this beach by Wen, a Thai Co-workers and friend from Super English. While my roommates and I had been swimming, she had been conversing with a parent, who suggested two stops for us, the Fish Spa, and a temple. I was torn, not knowing what a Fish Spa was, I wanted to stay on the beach and take a walk up the shore to a more ritzy resort and check out there setup, but luckily, one of my roommates was enthusiastic about the idea of a fish spa.

My vision of where we were headed included a sterile room, a bucket of water, and fish biting my feet. Wowee zowee was I far off. After yet another beautiful drive through the ninja chopped hills we arrived in a forested area and paid 100 baht for a Fish pedicure. We were led down a path, into some trees until we came in view of a pool where people were relaxing under a shady canopy with there feet in the water. Clearly not what I had been expecting, I began to get excited, something which was compounded when an employee of the spa came up and offered us small glasses of a deep blue liquid whose taste I can best describe as a sweet, cold, liquid, corn on the cob. We found a spot to our liking, a bridge across a pond or a stream, I wasn’t sure which, and dangled our feet into the water. After a few minutes with only seeing fish I began to assume that it was more of a place to sit and relax than anything to do with actual fish, but I was once again very wrong. Before too long a fish tentatively approached my feet, hovering a few inches away for a moment than rushing at the sole of my foot. Surprised, I let out a half laugh, half shriek and jerked my foot out of the water into the air. I got bold quickly and put both feet back in, and tried to contain myself. Soon, no fewer than 20 fish were nibbling and cleansing every part of my feet, from the heel to in between the toes. After a few minutes of this I managed to contain my exclamations of surprise and restrain the natural impulses of laughter and foot jerking and lay back to look up at the sun streaking through the leaves, allowing a small army of fish to remove all the dead skin from my feet, a unique experience if ever there was one.

Surely this would have been enough for one day, but no, we still had one more stop on our docket, the temple. Three years ago I traveled to Turkey, and was stunned by the beauty of the mosques there, and while time may have robbed some of the grandeur from my memories of them, this temple was among the most beautiful religious structures I have ever seen. Driving up a giant tower is erupting from the landscape, but before you can actually reach the base of the tower there are stairs. But before you get to the stairs there is a stunning, smaller temple whose gables are made of vibrant and shiny blues, reds and greens. The structure pediment contained a Buddha placidly sitting surrounded by a ruby red mirror, swirls of intricate gold, and an outline of curling sapphire blue coils. The base of the stairs had an ornate gate, and the railing were the long bodies of dragons whose heads were ordained with similar colors as the Buddha. Once you arrive at the top of the steps you come into full view of the tower you saw from the road below, and at its base is a temple similar to the one below, but all of the shiny bits are benefiting from the direct rays of a late afternoon sun. This sun, by the way, is descending towards the ocean, and shore line, which you have a stunningly clear view of. Everywhere are images of the Buddha surrounded by stunning color and wealth, bells line the outer walls of the courtyard and are rung by patrons of the temple as they walk the wall.

By the time we have soaked all this in, and headed back down the stairs hunger has gripped us enough that we stop in the town’s market before leaving. This, like every market I have seen so far is a hot mess of smells, sights and sounds. One booth, serving what appears to be a dark fruit jam is mobbed by bees. Another is selling whole fish on a stick, another flowers, another curry, another fruit, another shoes and watches, and many more. This is a small market, but like its bigger counterparts, it is almost overwhelming trying to choose food among the over stimulation. In the end I go with a tried and true rule, when in doubt, chances are that what ever the fat guy is making is probably really good. And it was.

Big Changes

I have asked both my grandmothers what they believe the biggest change in the world was during their life times was. One believes it was transportation, the other the vast increase in population density, and both really make you consider just how much has changed in the last century. But there is an incredible, and potentially huge difference between the generation of my parents, and my generation, that of electronics and the internet. With all respect to the car, and airplane, I really think that this may be more revolutionary in terms of human behavior. Many who know me have heard me be amazed at modern technology, be it indoor plumbing or a smart phone, but I recently had a moment which drove home yet again what an colossal gap exists between the two: Sitting on my bed, sweating slightly, I had just plowed through two episodes of the office, when I looked out my window. The realization was simple and obvious, that I was in Thailand, not the northeastern United States. There are always moments like this in a sudden transition in life styles, but this was slightly different. My amazement came because watching The Office was an identical experience in Thailand as it would have been in northern Vermont. As my generation ages I have absolutely no idea what the ability to be entertained so easily and freely by something so portable as a laptop will have on us; there is no pressure to challenge yourself to find entertainment when it is quite literally sitting in your lap, no matter where you are.

That being said, here are a couple reasons to travel. Saturday night was the last night of the Vegetarian festival in Surat Thani; it had been an ongoing celebration, which I was mostly unaware of, and unaffected by. In fact, I thought last night had been the previous night when I had attempted to attend some fire walking at a temple, and found that it happened a night earlier, there was a lot of fire crackers, some fireworks, an auction in a language I didn’t understand, and some men taking down a bamboo stage using machetes. So one night later, when I was heading into town to get dinner at the night market I did not expect more festivities, however when another teacher suggested we make an incense offering at the temple we were unwittingly swept up into it. I expected this to be a two minute max affair, light the incense, bow in prayer at an alter, and leave the aromatic offering. Instead we received a large bundle of incense, and left three sticks at several different alters, being led to each one by a kind person giving us directions in rapid Thai that none of us understood. Once finished we were ushered into room behind the main space of the temple (the doors to this were ornately painted pictures of Chinese warriors, the faces had spectacular detail and another teacher astutely noted that the face was probably done by a master, and the rest by apprentice) where it became clear that they were going to give us a vegetarian feast. We were put down at a table and several dishes were brought over, the only one of which that I recognized was a ridiculously tasty yellow curry, others included something akin to dumplings, various greens and an interesting mushroom soup. As we ate a Thai woman came and sat with us, instructed us on how to request water when she saw we were over heating from the spice, directed us to bathrooms and provided the kind of company that only a benevolent person with whom you can’t breach the language barrier can. By the time we headed off to explore the night market, a fantastic place that I will devote another entry to, we had turned down seconds, had them, than insisted on turning down thirds and left to a “See you soon” from our amicable dinner companion.

The next story is one more suggestive of the connections you can make over a year in a place like Surat. My two roommates and I stopped by a local restaurant to enjoy not only good food and fruit smoothies (ridiculously common and significantly better than in the states) but a reliable wireless connection offered by Earth Zone on Chalok Rat Rd. in Surat Thani. A teacher, who sadly left on Monday after a year at Super English, stopped into to check in his computer and grab a bite to eat. This was a restaurant that he had frequented, and he had come to know the staff quite well. We eventually got up to pay our bill and the grizzled veteran of a teacher got to talking with the owner, who has a good grasp of English, though she speaks it in a very ESL way takes some time to grow accustomed to (I had no idea what was being discussed). After a few moments, Chris, the veteran, turns to us with wide eyes and says, “Are you ready for this?” Apprehension begins to fill me, what could prompt such a reaction? Moments later the owner returns to the bar, carrying a tray of six shot glasses filled with a liquid roughly the color of apple cider, though beholding to a very different genre of drinks. She explains that this is an old Thai medicine, a shot a day will keep you healthy forever. It is a wide variety of Thai herbs (don’t ask which, I’m not sure anyone really knows) that have been allowed to steep in honey and vodka for a year. Bottoms up. There are some sensations which I don’t think can be accurately described, and moments after that traditional kick of hard liquor dominated my senses for a moment a new stirring occurred which is certainly beyond my ability to accurately describe. It trickled down through my digestive system, highlighting each step, the mouth, the esophagus, the stomach, and beyond. I don’t think I have ever had such an intimate experience with the biology of my body beyond the stomach.

After this a group of men, whose connection to us I am still unsure of, bought us all a glass of red wine (we toasted them merrily, standing awkwardly at the bar). This felt strangely un-surreal after what had just happened. None of this truly remarkable experience would have been available to us had the teacher who came before us not been a wonderfully kind, outgoing, and adventurous person over the previous year.