i talked to my girl brandy last night, and she brought out a few emails from the archives. i sounded so happy-go-lucky in all of them. i miss being so happy all the time, like i was in thailand. i'm still having fun here, but i do miss being this girl....
My last email update was months ago, just after my run on Maui and
before my departure to Thailand. I just completed another big run
this weekend! With my lovely Leslie and several thousand new friends,
I ran the Bangkok Quarter Marathon on Sunday morning. The race was
much different from the one on Maui (and not just because of the
distance); the course passed several of Bangkok's famous landmarks
like the Royal Palace, the Royal Theatre, and the Rama VIII Bridge,
but my favorite sights were the Thai people cheering on the sidewalks
and the monks on their morning walks, who occasionally blessed us
runners.
Anyways, I have been here for more than two months now, and though I
cannot possibly describe that time adequately, I can at least give you
a little idea of where I have been and what I have been doing.
I spent the first month in Chiang Mai, a charming city in the
mountainous north, full of gorgeous temples, tasty food, and masters
of Thai massage. There, I completed my training with 30 other
teachers; our class days were long, but we still managed to go out
every night. Some favorite places include pubs along the riverfront
where we could watch the boats pass and listen to impressive cover
bands, a rooftop bar near the night bazaar downtown with a treacherous
stairway to get up and a creaky bamboo floor, a reggae club with sand
floors, and, yes, the occasional go-go bar where the girls had
different colors of neon bikinis for each night of the week. Closer
to our hotel was Pom's, a local outdoor bar, where Pom himself took
care of our group and taught us some basic Thai after our many hours
spent teaching English. The weeks were busy, and the weekends were
full of adventures. I must admit I spent a couple of those days
exploring the spa culture with some other girls on the program. I
also took a cooking class with a Vassar-friend-in-law named Eliza, who
is a pre-school teacher in Chiang Mai. I promise you all lots of
curries and pad thai whenever I come back (maybe some spring rolls
too?).
My favorite day during my training, however, was actually spent
outside of the Chiang Mai moat. The day began very early with a
scooter ride up to Wat Doi Suthep, which sits atop a nearby mountain
overlooking the city. I arrived just in time to climb the
dragon-framed staircase and catch the first rays of light hitting the
golden exterior of the temple. The city soon emerged in the
background as the mist burned off and the sun seemed to light the
temple on fire with an orange glow. I left Suthep on the back of the
pink scooter with the monks' morning chants still echoing in my mind
and the morning breeze in my hair. In town, I joined some other
teachers for a day of elephant-riding, waterfall-swimming, and
whitewater-rafting. The elephant ride was much what I thought an
elephant ride would be. My elephant was very hungry during the trip,
constantly pulling down banana leaves (the flying branches were a bit
of a danger to those not paying attention and, say, hugging the
elephant from behind its ears) and showering itself with water from a
stream. The swim after the ride was a bit of a necessity after the
banana leaf parade and trunk shower, but, more than anything else, it
was a group-bonding moment, as was our rafting trip/swim down the tame
river.
The last night in Chiang Mai, like any other last night, was
bittersweet. We had dinner in traditional Thai dress, and though I
rarely wear pink, I wore a pink and gold skirt and sash with white
plumerias in my hair. The stylist insisted he would make me "the Miz
Universe, dahling." It was a good night, which we all still felt the
next day. We have a great phrase here to describe those mornings:
Chang-overs. Chang, which means elephant, is one of the big brewing
companies here, and their beverages do not have a regulated alcohol
content…What happens after a drink is always a surprise, though the
feeling the next day is more of an expectation at this point.
From Chiang Mai, I traveled to Koh Pha-ngan, an island down south,
with twelve of the original 30. After a night train, a day train, a
night ferry, and no sleep since we kept the party going with our
travels, we arrived and settled into our bungalows on the beach—home
for a week. During that time, we went to the Full Moon Party, the
beach event that has made this island famous. Seeing the sunrise
while still dancing with friends after the whole night's party is one
of my favorite moments during my time here. I'll never forget
screaming and running into the ocean with them and those first few
minutes of daylight.
After a lot of floatie time on the beach during the days following the
Full Moon, I left with two friends for another island: Koh Tao.
While on Koh Tao, I went diving. I went diving a lot. I went diving
so much that I wound up with blood in my ears and a gnarly infection.
I spent a day out of the water but still riding around on the dive
boat and was back in as soon as possible. We spent every day of the
week diving and every night hanging out with the divemasters at the
Buddha View, a little beachside patio that just might be one of my
favorite places in the world. Perhaps I have a career as a divemaster
in my future, who knows? I suppose I will just have to keep my ears
in check…
After Koh Tao, I spent a few days helping my blonde partner-in-crime
Leslie settle into her school in a fairly sleepy beach town in
Prachaup Khiri Khan province. I went to school with her one day, and
I am happy that her kids still ask about me a month later. Going to
her school made me far less nervous about coming to my own, which I
did after leaving PKK and spending a few days in Bangkok, that crazy
disco ball of a city. Technically, I am still in the greater Bangkok
metropolis, but my little suburb does not feel like it, except when I
make the short van ride south.
And now, in this little place with a huge school, I teach
kindergarten. My kids are crazy. Absolutely crazy. I teach 27
classes a week and see nearly 900 kids in that time. I wish I could
remember all of their names and faces, but I really just know the kids
that stand out for some reason or another, like the girl with the
impossibly long name who bangs on my stomach on Tuesday afternoons or
the little boy named God that head-butted me on Friday. Midway
through "If You're Happy and You Know It," God ran at me full speed
from the back of the classroom and head-butted me. That's right, I
was head-butted by God. I cannot help but wonder, is this supposed to
be some sort of awakening? Wait until class next week, and I'll let
you know.
Outside of class, there is little to do in my town. I joined the
Fitness First nearby, where I take yoga, hip hop, or spinning classes
everyday. The classes are a lot of fun, even though I do want to
rename my hot yoga class "Advanced Sexual Positions and Language
Barriers." Unless I am somewhere near the front so I can watch the
instructor, who always has his legs wrapped around his head in some
twisting shape or another, I have no idea what is going on and end up
face-planting (read more about face-planting later). Unlike yoga, I
can always follow hip hop class, especially with the instructors'
little exclamations in English like "get low," "shake it fast," and
"work it out." When I am not too destroyed by kindergarten, I still
run too—obviously, I just ran a road race.
I promised more on face-planting, so here it is, the section of my
long email about how I have embarrassed myself in front of the locals.
On my first day here, I went to the noodle stand on the street.
There are about 5 street carts that share the same sitting area, where
I pulled up a nice plastic stool while waiting on my pad thai. I
received my noodles and started to eat them, when I turned my head a
little too quickly. I fell off the stool, and I rolled until I hit
the noodle cart. Nan, my English-speaking friend at the neighboring
fruit stand, introduced herself at this point, making sure that I was
ok amidst the horrified looks on all of the other Thai faces, which
were trying to enjoy their noodles just like I was moments beforehand.
When I went back to the noodle stand, my pad thai provider pulled up
her own plastic chair for me to sit in. The next day, Nan brought
over a special wood and metal chair from her house. That's right, I
had a special girl chair, where I sat every time I had pad thai. I am
happy to say that I graduated from the special chair on Friday
afternoon, when I ate with Nan, and we both sat on the stools. There
are more humiliating stories, like locking myself out of my apartment
(that one involved a ladder) and accidentally dressing like a school
girl, but those will have to wait until your next very lengthy email.
Congratulations to you if you read the whole thing!
I miss you all! Send me your stories!
Love and love,
Charla
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