a long-winded carte postale

I think I have come to like eating tamarinds because of the seeds. The taste is lovely, sure, but I am oddly satisfied when I have cleaned the seed of its yummy pulp and have this smoothed pebble rolling around in my mouth. So today, when I felt like bursting in tears, I ate tamarinds instead, focusing on the seeds and putting them in my pockets, like Amélie and her skipping stones.

Plus, no tears since Saturday. I might not be the undefeated Saints, but damn it, I have a winning streak I'd like to maintain if I am to break even.

Wednesdays I have what has come to be my most frustrating class—a group of sixteen to eighteen year old boys studying electronics. To put it bluntly, they don't want to be there, which is probably why only 8 of the registered 40 showed up to class today. From what I gathered the others were either studying or playing football; they were a bit vague on this point. So I let them go an hour early. What can you teach 8 students that you won't have to reteach if the rest of them decide to show up next week? I even switched into Thai at the end of class to stress that the next week I wanted more students to come. I then moved to the hongpakruu, or the teachers waiting room to, well, wait for my next class. And eat tamarinds. I eavesdropped on James' very studious class that was being held in the awkward, boardless room. They were taking notes, asking questions, hanging out after class. As happy as I was for James, my frustration decided to hitch a ride with a little bit of jealousy as I sat preparing for my next class.

My second Wednesday class was actually the first class I had ever had. They trickled in slowly, their numbers moving from three to something in the twenties. Unfortunately, they kind of straddle lesson plans, as I had a half of a lesson with them once, which throws them into my guinea pig class territory, and while their level is one of the lower ones that I teach, their general enthusiasm more than makes up for it. Plus, I can pick on them. As we were reviewing numbers the first week in unison, one kid who was bored with the routine stood out with his proclamation of "ONE-ONE" instead of eleven. Taking my cues from the students' laughter, I made the bold move of singling this kid out as The One To Be Picked On. Therefore his name became Mr. One One. As his name is memorable and so far away from the impossibly long and utterly unpronounceable Thai names, he became my example for everything. "Mr. One One is taller than Lek. Mr. One One is more beautiful than Mary." It just makes for a more enjoyable teaching experience all around. Plus, it's kind of fun to go on a teacher power trip, line up all the boys, hand them a picture of a lady and have to girls arrange them from ugliest to most beautiful.

These pictures have all come from the many magazines I shipped in my diplomatic pouch with the overambitious hope that my students would be able to read the articles. Now, they are being cut up left and right to help with descriptions. Meaning that Judge Sotomayor receives such adjectives as "fat" "ugly" and "old" while James Dean is described as "young," "thin" (or slender by more ambitious students) and "young." Oh, the small pleasures of teaching.

High and Low. Everyday.

But I feel that I am starting to find my footing somewhere in a sense of routine. I eat lunch with the other teachers and have managed to ask about contributing to the general collection of food. I keep office hours. Every time I enter my bathroom I find where the ants are trying to establish themselves this time around and promptly spray them. There are a few holes in things, don't get me wrong. I still don't have a bike, I still end up looking blankly at people about 80% of the time, and still have not seen 2 of my classes. But students are calling out to me as I pass them. I consider their "Hello!" as an invitation to conversation and will go and try to illicit further sentences from them past the usual "I am fine, thank you."

On Monday, TUSEF sent a teacher to review my teaching. It was nice to have someone else share in the general concerns that occupy my life. My students were one hour late; sometimes my classrooms do not have boards; I can hardly communicate with my host teachers. It was also reassuring to here the critiques of my teaching, as they were generally good. Tuesday I was told to be at building 3 at 8:00 am. Maew called me at 9:20 to tell me my class is waiting for me and I tried to explain that I was to be welcoming a visitor and could not teach my class that morning. Because that's all I knew. At 9:30, we followed the Deputy Director's instructions, imitated what everyone else was doing, missed some class, watched a video and had our pictures taken. (really! I'm on the DTEC website now!) I have come to expect both the general disregard for time as well as the doing something without understanding in the slightest what is going on.

But I can understand a bit more of the old woman who sells me my daily iced coffee every time. As she speaks like every other person who is abundant in years and slightly lacking in teeth, rambling and mumbling in the same breath, the is a huge accomplishment. She put her hand in the air riding past me on her motorbike the other evening, in a gesture reminiscent of Kundera's Immortality (which I am still working on finishing…). I will probably never fully understand her, but we both understand that, so it's okay.

I stayed up late to try to see the meteor shower last night. Not too much in the way of meteors, but what a killer night sky I have here.

Ways that Thailand is slowly working its way into my heart:

1) I hardly ever where shoes.

I take off my shoes outside of my house and both academic buildings. I slide them on briefly to go eat or cross the road. Other than that, I am teaching barefoot… and it is delightful. I realized in Bangkok that I had not brought a pair of brown shoes, slightly problematic considering the formal attire that I tend to wear. But now? Mai bpen rai, I just don't wear shoes. Cool.

2) All of the coffee is café au lait.

I never liked strong black coffee. I blame my grandmother for giving us coffee milk all the time. Here, you order a coffee and most times it is served on ice with milk and sugar added. Yum!

3) Toothpicks are everywhere.

Toothpicks are considered an acceptable form of cleaning your teeth after meals and tend to be provided on every table, even in food courts and fancy restaurants. It is pretty exciting for the girl who has told the dentist "I don't floss, but I toothpick, does that count?" for the past 4 years.

4) Bicycles are meant for two.

Most bikes have a built in pad where the rack over the back wheel is. They also have these nice little pegs that flip out to give your feet somewhere to go when riding. Comparing this to my experiences with Matthias uncomfortable and precarious port baggage, this is a welcome change. Plus, most bikes have baskets and bells already there. I am generally expected to ride side saddle on the back of motorbikes or bikes, which I am torn between viewing as cute and quaint and annoying as crap. But I also haven't really worn pants in two weeks, so I guess practical is another word.

5) Food is cheap.

Not only does this allow for people to treat others to meals (I have bought maybe two meals in the past week and a half. Honestly.), but it means that the deliciousness that is a random afternoon snack or a cool drink will cost you 10 baht—maybe 30 cents.

5.5) There is practically no perception of time.

This one fluctuates between love and hate. There is no real concern with how long something takes or when someone will show up. In fact, there are words to express "sometime in the evening" that are considered to be referring to a specific time. The flexibility and lack of preoccupation with schedules are quite the change from American life. Sometimes it's exhilerating. Sometimes it is beyond frustrating. It is, however, always spontaneous.

Ways in which Thailand is being a bit more troublesome:

1) There are bugs everywhere.

In massive quantities and sometimes of quite large size, the insect community is well-established in Thailand. Yesterday I stepped on a grasshopper in my office. A fellow ETA said she recently killed a spider that was apparently a pregnant spider and like a bad video game, the spawn spread out from the original killing.

2) At least one layer of dirt seems to be everywhere.

Although I have made a solid attempt to thoroughly clean my room, I have come to the conclusion that there really is just a full layer of ick over most things in Thailand. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying the people themselves are dirty. In fact, personal hygiene is huge here, making these cold showers vastly popular. Rather, the country seems to have resigned itself to the fact that physical objects will always be at least a little dirty. I am slowly adjusting to this, but am annoyed that I can't even seem to keep my fingernails clean.

3) The Hierarchy is ever present and just asking for you to make a mistake.

This morning I walked past a group of the important people sitting at a table and didn't realize who they were until it was too late to wai them. While this will hopefully be overlooked as a farang mistake, I have committed a blunder that, were I Thai, would leave me in a terribly awkward situation the next time I had to meet any of those people. At dinner, certain people sit down first, are served first, let you know when you can leave. The teacher serving the drinks to the director the other night would make a visible effort to keep her head below his even as she poured his drink.

4) The separation of the genders is evident in so many respects.

I am not just speaking to the often times physical barrier between the sexes, but the social barrier as well. I am expected to be friends with the female teachers here, just as the boys are expected to befriend the male teachers. We clump together, talk about certain subjects amongst ourselves, avoid certain subjects with our male counterparts, and whisper and giggle where it is deemed necessary. I don't know if my general distaste for this comes from the fact that my potential friends were dictated to me or that I am just not used to having all female friends. I do know that this seems to lead to a certain immaturity when dealing with any topic remotely related to anything sexual. Thirty year olds will giggle and blush as if they were twelve. I will, however, concede this: It does lead to a feeling of solidarity that is more than welcome.

5) Thai is hard and English is uncommon.

I am working on (and struggling with) my acquisition of Thai. Some nights, I feel like I can understand enough to get by with nods and smiles in a conversation. Monday night was one of those. I caught pieces of some stories, every now and then, the teachers would lapse into Thai for long jokes or the like, but I didn't feel left out or that I needed to be following. Tuesday, at the director's birthday, was a completely different story. I had fancy schmancy people telling me things that I didn't know how to respond to. They didn't understand me; I didn’t understand them. And the dinner lasted 4 hours. At the end of it, nearing 10:30, I was tired of my forays into a dictionary and just very frustrated. Two of the teachers came back to my room and chatted for a bit, and the next minute I was in tears. As soon as the Thai entry for the word "frustrated" came up on Maew's electronic dictionary, they understood and told me not to worry, that they'd take care of me. Then Amanda called and I spent the next three minutes trying to explain to Maew and P'Boh that I needed them to leave so I could talk on the phone. Later that night, Maew sent me a text reading "to night I hope that sweet dream and not to be discourage I to say with you I love you because I care am not you cry." But even poor grammar can't disguise a good sentiment.

I know that I joked about this with a few people before leaving, but as of the last few days, I am certain. In no particular order, I give you the cases:

The Food:
Isaan food is distinct from Thai food in a number of ways, the first and foremost being that it is generally spicier than other Thai food, which itself is quite spicy. The common question is "Can you eat Thai food?" meaning, "Can you handle the spice?" So far, I've been able to handle pet nid noi, a little spicy, but every now and then I end up with a dish that sets my lips afire and curses my taste buds for the rest of the meal. This pet mak mak, or very spicy, is also considered to be aroy mak mak, very delicious. Sadly, I think that Tabasco, Slap Ya Mama, and Tony's combined could never match this. I am slowly working on dulling my sense of spicy. The way Thai food is served reminds me of a crawfish boil—everything in the center for the taking. For most meals the dishes are in the middle and everyone has their own plate. Using a fork to scoop the food onto your spoon, you serve yourself a little bit. In Isaan, much of the actual eating is done with your hands; you grab a pinch of sticky rice, roll it into a ball and then use it to grab a bite of your preferred dish.

I hardly ever know exactly what I am eating here. Often enough, we can get the name of the meat, but sometimes the situation becomes one of Eat First, Ask Later. They seem to have the similar problem of eating things that most people wouldn't. Have you ever seen the inside of a tamarind? It looks terrifyingly disgusting—and yet DELICIOUS. In the past two days I have eaten two different types of fish (both with their heads intact), liver of some sort (I think), octopus, grilled frog, pork the consistency of cotton candy, and more rice than you can imagine. They even put noodles on rice. And the rice pot selection at the store is quite impressive. I might come back with a new one—take that avocado green Hitachi with the homemade handle!

Everyone tries to feed you, all the time. I show up to teach my class and I am asked by three teachers and most of my students if I have eaten. It is not simply used a greeting, however, it is a huge part of life. My students tell me they want to leave early because they are hungry. My fellow teachers come into my class to deliver packages of pork and rice, then tell me that I need to end my class early so we can all go eat.

A side note on the food—everything here is easily take away-able (Hi, my name is Rachel. I am an English teacher). Things are wrapped up in wax paper, put into plastic bags and rubber banded. Voilà! Insta-portable. Even drinks sometimes come in bags, echoing back to my elementary school days of bagged milk. I highly doubt the reusable bag movement is going to come to Thailand any time soon.

The Drink:
Being raised in a semi-alcoholic society definitely has its perks. When we all cooked at the boys' place Monday night (any time there is a get together over food, it is automatically called a party…), drinking was a given. Not having any Puritanical roots to fall back on, I was not shocked at the entrance of the whiskey bottles, neither was I prone to over-indulgence. Thai whiskey is the drink of choice and it is often brought to the restaurants, who then provide the water and soda water. As one of the Thai teachers said on Monday: "When you happy, you drink!" Last night, at the director's birthday party, a number of the gifts given were whiskey. Just an accepted part of society.

The Vehicles:
Ride whatever you can. Whoever does not fit in the back seat of the truck can sit in the bed. Children who look no older than ten are seen on motorbikes. Bicycles have a pad on the back to carry someone. We got stuck behind a slow moving truck carrying rice today. This weekend, a tractor of an unknown variety made its way down DTEC's streets at that pace that only a tractor can do.

The Language:
There are essentially two languages in this area of Thailand: Thai and Isaan. The actual entity of the Isaan language is hard for me to capture. I don't know whether to call it a language, a dialect, or just some vocabulary differences. I do know that it is very similar to (if not the same as) Lao. Most people who speak it can speak Thai as well. The Chinese teacher here tells me that I shouldn't bother with the Isaan language because only a few people speak it. I then tried to explain to him how Français and English function in Louisiana. Sure, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who does not speak English, but that doesn't mean that you should neglect the language that people still call their own. So my moleskine is scattered with notes like stop= yut (thai) = sao sao (isaan) and what?= arai (thai) = eeyang (isaan). The Thais get a kick out of me understanding/ attempting to speak Thai, but it seems that they really enjoy it when I (attempt to) speak Isaan. Especially the local people. To be able to say that something they cooked is saap illee instead of aroy mak is huge in both my eyes and theirs. But this might just be because I am a language nerd.

The Scenery:
A flat landscape of fields with cattle randomly hanging out. Here, rice and water buffalo, but similar all the same. The temperatures are also similar to a Louisiana summer—high nineties with the humidity to match. Today, when P'Nok took us out to her rice farm and her father showed us how to harvest rice, we were dripping from the short walk out, to say nothing of doing the actual work. I have now harvested rice with a scythe…enough for a handful of rice and no more, I am sure. As a people that live off the land, they have a different feel than those of the city, their priorities are shifted. They are also constantly worried that I am bored being in the middle of rice fields and that Det Udom is too small (I am trying to hint to them that I just need a bike)

The Nicknames:
In all of Thailand, everyone and their mother has a nickname. When a Thai introduces himself, he gives his first name, but immediately follows it with his nickname. First namess are rarely used; instead these nicknames become the main form of address. They usually have nothing to do with the person's actual name. The nickname of anyone older is usually preceded by "P," meaning older, similar to our use of "T." (For my Arkansas friends and others, it is derived from the word "petit" and is put in front of names to designate someone younger, like my cousin for years was known as T-Fo.)

All of this being said, a number of differences are evident. Take Monday evening as one example. A group of ten teachers got together at the boys' to cook and generally hang out. In no time, the sexes had completely segregated themselves—women inside cooking and men outside, mixing the whiskey and beginning to eat as the food came out. I didn't realize it until I had stepped outside and felt…out of place. I immediately went back inside and carried out any kitchenly duties required of me. When we came back out to eat, we took our places on one of two reed mats, each with the communal collection of dishes at the center. The men on one mat, the women on the other. And a bench drawing a very clear and physical line between the two. Sometimes the conversation was separate, sometimes words passed over the bench. It wasn't until a few of the older teachers left that we moved the bench and sat next to each other. The evening was delightful, involving several trips by random students to the convenience store to purchase more beverages and ice.

As much as this place reminds me of Louisiana, it is severely lacking in several respects. It does not have a cursed football team who is currently excelling in every respect (WHO DAT?!). There is no gumbo, let alone gumbo weather. And the lack of air-conditioning, hot showers, and generally comfy furniture is not appreciated. But here it is. Louisiana, meet your long lost cousin, Isaan.

I love letters. This poor, forsaken form of communication is quite possibly my favorite, with postcards as a close second. Letters are the reason I brought my glass pens and two bottles of ink over in my carry-on. Letters are the reason behind the collection of stationery that I have on my shelf. Letters are the reason I brave post office confusions to purchase five different stamps.

So if you are so inclined to partake in this lovely art of letter writing, please, take note of my address:

Me.
Det Udom Technical College
377 Chockchai Det Udom Road
Amphur Det Udom
Ubon Ratchathani
34160
THAILAND

And be sure to put your return address in the corner, because who knows what will come your way. What I know is that I've quite a bit of free time and some glass pens that are begging to be used.

Looking forward to hearing from you.