You are currently browsing the category archive for the 'Uncategorized' category.
I almost walked to Burma today.
We hadn’t realized we’d actually passed the official gateway to Thailand’s left-hand neighbor until after we’d finally noted the change in script on the signs across the way. It looked like Thai had unraveled and danced in its revelry, to be free from the tight circles and sharp angles that define most stylized Thai writing.
The unfortunate first impression of the country was the image of a man leaning over the rail of the footbridge above us, likely a shop owner, dumping a garbage bag into the already brown river that passed between me and the sharp rule of a controlling military junta. I admit, it didn’t reflect well on either country, especially considering the man proceeded on to our current side of things. Next we saw children, under the bridge across the way, tumbling over each other in sand strewn with pieces of trash that presumptively had found its way over on some unfortunate wind. They waved enthusiastically, delighted to see people with different hair and skin than they had, and wished us happy birthday. I doubt they knew the meaning.
Then I noticed the more significant thing.
I glanced from Thailand to Myanmar, forward and back, when I realized the children had reached the sand by hoisting themselves over barbed wire. Thailand is, despite the dark stain of humidity and dirt streaking down the buildings, a rich sight. Perhaps I think such because I’m accustomed, though I don’t believe so. There are bright advertisements, for Pepsi and Singha beer, and the ever present red and yellow signs in both Chinese and Thai. There are handmade gifts and chintzy souvenirs hanging in every window, and at the restaurants there are carved railings of dark wood and brightly colored boxes of napkins on the edge of the tables.
Turn an eye to Burma, and the sights change completely.
There was one advertisement in sight, somewhere above the green swathed guard eyeing us, and nothing else. All the visible buildings were plain, painted one fading color, concrete blocks with closed curtains. There was the spire of a temple emerging from trees over the bridge that we could see from our vantage point. But there was no colorful bustle, no sound, barely any lights visible down the pathway we could see. You could tell it was a path crowded with buildings, all concrete, all painted. There weren’t any of the signs, any of the bustle, any of the life that I could discern. I imagined people running through the streets. I pictured the monks hiding in the temple. I stared for a long time.
The world isn’t real until you’ve seen it.
I want to see more of Burma.
That’ll probably have to wait a few years. But I’m also learning an awful lot about time.
In other news, there is one day until Christmas. If you’re reading this, chances are I miss you. I want you to have a wonderful holiday! Even if this post is a bit of a downer. Sorry! Hahaha…don’t worry, it comes amongst a time of great fun for me—we’re on our second Rotary trip of the year, and despite my tendencies towards being car sick, I’d managed to hold out for the first (and arguably best) couple days of the trip. As for the rest of the time (three days, I think) I plan on arming myself with an iPod, a blanket, a teddy panda I bought at the zoo, and a healthy supply of shut-eye.
I only wish I had the time to tell you all about the number of amazing things I’ve been doing since I left for this trip. But I’m at an internet café, and there is barely enough time in a week to chat on and on about what I’ve done.
Highlights?
Elephant riding.
Boat across the Mekong.
Games with Rotary kids.
As I type this list, I slowly recognize that the majority of the amazing time has much more to do with who it was with. We’ve got an incredible group along for this ride. I can’t wait for what happens next.
Love much, and with much Christmas cheer,
Holly
PS. I’m wearing a beautiful Thai silk dress for Christmas. I can’t wait. J
Ehehehehehehe…
I was on a three week break just now…and…yeah, so the other day I totally saw a something–a car crash! Right in front of my house! A car rear ended another one and then another one bumped into that car, and–three cars, stopped, right in front of the shop. I thought I heard it, but wasn’t quite sure until my aunt came in all, “Did you hear that? A car crash!” but definitely not in English, and I ran upstairs onto the roof garden and sure enough wouldn’t you know there was a real, bonafide car crash.
Please accept this exhilarating story as a sort of peace offering. It’s the best I can do. I’m only a student!
And ignore the title. I don’t owe you all a book because I’m only a student! and am spending my own money right now. Thailand’s cheap, but definitely not that cheap. I’ll buy you one if you put the moolah in my account. Yeah. Thanks. (No one’s gonna do that.)
So, as my closest friend in Thailand is rockin’ her self out in Bangkok. Without me. I’ll be writing this now. I think you gathered.
The last month. Has it seriously been a month? Seriously? How am I supposed to do this? But enough stalling. It’s frustrating me.
In the last month I have mostly been on break. This involved copious amounts of boredom for a time. It was bad for a little while when I could actually feel my own body itching to escape the wooden walls I’m sandwiched between in my room like ants were crawling inside me rather than just biting my ankle and arms on random occasion. (The things I try not to think about. But when you wake up with one on your cheek, you figure you’ve eaten your fair share by now.) But Virginia rescued me.
Virginia, her host mom (hereby referred to as “Khun Mei,” which I’m ultra-tempted to write in Thai script from now on to impress you), and I went out to dinner with a friend of Khun Mei’s and a friend of his. Dinner was enjoyable, seeing as there was cashew chicken and a live and talented band that kept talking to us in half-broken-English-half-Thai. I wanted to get up and dance, but there’s a definite “NO!” on that one. Thai culture doesn’t allow for the same amount of dancing. Well, they dance (and it’s totally cool, too). But it’s not hip-shaking get-your-groove-on type dancing. It’s skilled movements with your hands that become completely unskilled when my hands fumble through them. We tried it with a couple of boys during our mini-convention at the Athletic University, and they had their good fun actually dancing while the three of us undeniably white girls clapped our hands to the beat and laughed. Laughing is the best way to cut straight through cultural differences.
And then came the big one: Karaoke.
In case you weren’t aware, in Asia Karaoke is performed inside a rented out room (unless you’re brave enough to test your talents in front of a group–who, if you’re old enough and lucky enough, is too drunk to tell you don’t sound anything at all like Whitney Houston and instead resemble a dying cat breathing through a slide whistle) on very comfy couches. There’s a wait service. It’s deluxe.
The group’s attempts were largely…let’s leave it at attempts, for kindness’s sake. It was fun. But to be honest, you sit there singing. …Yeah. (I have a feeling that if you’re there with close friends, there’s jumping across the couches for songbooks and dancing and elaborate performances. I’ll try it sometime)
I spent the night at Virginia’s that night (where the ant was on my face). I love the airiness of that place. They live farther out, and though the roosters just don’t know how to shut up, I know how to drown them out just fine, and the sunlight doesn’t have about two feet leeway on one wall, but only around a big extravagant red sign on which someone took WordArt in Microsoft Word and just went nuts.
Okay, okay, it might not be that bad. But anytime font goes from small to big across anything I cringe, and some part of me dies.
Ahanyway. Things were pretty normal for a minute. Except last Tuesday a Rotarian from Reno rolled in with his former exchange student and (the trumpets sound) the District President swung by. Now, he comes only once a year, twice if you’ve been extra good (wish Santa would do that) and thus, we exchangers of Magkang were asked to present something we’d learned at school to the club. Before I knew that important people would have to be eating it, I offered to cook dessert.
Thankfully, my Obachan kindly offered oh-so-desperately needed assistance, and we made one of the simplest desserts on the face of the planet. Cut little bananas into fourths, stick in a pot with a lot of sugar, a lot of coconut milk, and a little salt, and heat and stir for a while. Only thing is, I had been drinking coffee just before I taste tested. Two seconds after extra sugar went in I realized what I’d done. Coffee. Of course fruits are going to be bitter after…oh well.
They took it graciously at Rotary, too, but I did mock myself a little bit while reading the recipe in Thai, and the way they laughed as I explained that “if you like it sweet add more sugar” I can tell they noticed. But. They took it graciously. Virginia made a part of a little wire and net flower for the group, and passed around her beautiful earlier creations. I’ve tried one. They’re not easy. They don’t always turn out that pretty. I can tell by looking at the “rose” sitting in the corner of my room.
The next day, it was off to a school again, where we were invited for the harvest and shown a little bit about Thai school life out in the poorer communities. See, this particular school we’d been to before for a dedication of a clean water system. It so happens that this is the only available source of said clean water, and the entire community uses it now.
I had no idea.
Also, when kids are sick their option is to tell the teacher, climb in a wooden bed in the corner of the room, and take some assorted medications from the back of the classroom. The harvest is for mushrooms, and the kids go hunting (notably, in bare feet) through the woods behind the school, put them in jars, and store them in a shed next to the catfish and frog pool so they have something to eat. The director explained that this extraordinarily fresh meal (or meals, as breakfast is also served) is often the only one they get during the day. They make their own brooms, too.
School is these people’s lives. And they have the most threadbare library I’ve seen. I want to buy them books.
It’s strange, when you realize you’re standing exactly where they’ve been telling you about for years and years. And the kids were so sweet. They wai’d way better than I ever have. Gotta love being beat by someone literally half your size. I felt the same trying to decipher the Thai scrawled on the chalkboard.
After that, we went off to Ban Chiang, where they closed down the main museum for, literally, a year. And that was the only air conditioned part. So we baked in the little museum, stealing minutes in front of fans, fixing cameras, and went to the excavation site that still has all the original stuff in it. That was cool. Skeletons never lose their creep, though. Cool. But creepy.
There was dinner after all this, too, where ironically enough I froze my butt off and talked politics and took pictures and finally caught up with Eve.
And that night I totally spent the night at her house. Which reminded me so much of America…it had a living room next to the kitchen with wooden floors and a shower all sectioned off in glass…and there was a four month old adorable pug chasing us around…
Eve is really cool, in case you didn’t know. I had met her at the conference in America, and it was amazing to be able to catch up with her (and to hear about the ridiculous amount of studying Thai high school seniors have to do…no thank you).
I’m burning out, guys. I’m pretty confident you are, too. I don’t blame you.
This shall be finished…tomorrow.
Night all.
อภิญญา <3
I have joyous news for you all.
Holly, your very own Apinya, has started to rejoin the ranks as–gasp–an appropriate teenager.
No! I can hear you all saying, faces frozen in a Munch-esque pose of shock mixed with horror. And you’d be only partially correct to be in such a state of surprise; after all, my skewed definition of “appropriate teenager” has always been on that shoddy, off-kilter fork off of true adolescence. Still, hear me out.
I have stood defiant against the wishes of–well, many (it would, I think, just hurt to list them all) and straightened my hair.
Permanently.
For 6 months.
Allow me a mild hair flip, which I can now do, thank you very much, and a raised hand in “talk to the face” fashion before continuing. …Ahem, thank you.
I have made friends and done things such as “hang out” after school to watch “football,” commonly known as “soccer” or “that sport where they kick a ball a lot, and also sometimes each other” or “the one that Zidane guy plays.” Take your pick. Let it be known I did not get hit by the ball, just only nearly, which actually resulted in pretty white flowers raining down around and on me. I believe this should be protocol–but continuing on.
I have begun to like R&B and hip-hop music.
This one catches me off guard a little, until I realize that my version happens to be in Korean. But hey. Thai teen magazines actually have an entire section for Korean pop stars and actors. I didn’t say which country I was becoming passingly normal in.
There’s my list.
Oh. Except for the fact that I can read and write Thai. ^_^ See, one night I got sick of my own inability. So I taught myself the alphabet and had a brief pass over the salas. Vowels. Same same (loan words rule). The fact that my host father assumed this mean I must know them all by name the next night actually proved itself a bit of a help, as the letters had to become a reflex (also an aid during the more recent sessions where his spelling has suddenly picked up speed, with an immediate sounding out and pronunciation of the word–needless to say but you know me my listening comprehension has taken one monstrous leap forward). I did interrupt once last week to learn the tone sounds. The rest is all–what’s that again (since I never learned it, but I’ll keep that part to myself)?
For the most part, I’m doing quite well all of a sudden. Vocab is starting to absorb simply from repetition, and I’m no longer omitting tone differences.
I wish my speaking was going better, though. I think that’s going to change, though yesterday my host father was talking to the PE teacher man (oh yeah, I’m taking Muay Thai and swords/poles) and, in Thai, explained my level of comprehension, then asked me (in Thai) if I want him to speak Thai or English.
Good-bye, native language.
Thus, I only hear English from one person–Monica, who has officially joined me at Achiwa. And I’m teaching her the alphabet now, along with some other basics.
Yes. Me. A teacher. Laugh, Mom and Steve and all those who understand how misguided this move truly is. Laugh.
I have, by the way, Mom and Steve, fully and completely adopted the attitude and principles of the BFZ. This has been quite the advantage most times.
Also, I have (in the middle of typing this up) received my second piece of mail–a letter from one and none other than Khalila! If you think anything you did, everyone else, has made the month of September, Lila just stole it from you. I love Lila.
<3
me
My mother finally decided to push the “Update” button, similar to the famed “Easy” button, but less red and much less to do with marketing.
She also says I’m changing, but I can’t confirm nor deny. She says she can hear it in my writing. What she doesn’t know is that my writing simply sucked in the last email I sent to her. They’ve been wearing me down every day this week, starting at a tender 6:44 am every morning (oddly specific, yes, but that is exactly when I’ve been waking up, without fail). By the time I get back home, I’m ready beyond ready to be snuggled up against the cold air the machine next to my bed blows out over me, lights out save for the soft green glow of stars and moons stuck to the ceiling (Note to self: Never be without glow in the dark stars) that really don’t give off much…light. I just wanted to say that.
Things I’ve noticed:
Ladyboys are so much fun. They’re like the hidden wild side of Thailand, but without the hidden. In such a polite society, men with boobs wearing beads and feathers. Could you not love it?
There is a Starbucks in Nong Khai, there is a Starbucks in Nong Khai, there is a Starbucks in Nong Khai, this was possibly the biggest news of last weekend. Wow. There’s a Starbucks. In Nong Khai.
Guys do the huggy thing with guys and take pictures with their cellphones, and are generally more…happy around each other. American boys? Sit there and grunt at each other while leaning up against a wall, eat, or joke about hitting each other and accidentally break something, argue about who did it, and then brood for fifteen minutes before finding some food, or something incredibly stupid to do with something with a motor.
Mary was apparently pretty much the best thing since sliced bread to hit Ashiwa, if you ask anyone there. I’m actually pretty confident that the next time I hear someone talk about her I’m going to go insane, except the people who keep bringing her up are teachers, so I’m forced to say, yes, I’ve heard of her. Kaa. She lives about an hour and 45 minutes by plane away from me, I have never met her, and telepathically I inform everyone in the room that I am not nor could be Mary.
There is an Asian counterpart to everyone you knew, and every celebrity. I’ve found a John Cusack, a Ninomiya Kazunari, and a lot more I can’t remember right now.
Dogs and cats are not the same precious pets here as they are at home. It’s strange to walk around and see all these dogs wandering around, and people just barely passing by in cars without a second thought. At home, someone would at least mention getting some food for them, possibly a bath.
The things I have eaten for Thailand. We’ll not discuss.
I’m good at badminton.
Things I’ve done:
Gone to an old folks’ home with Miss Thai Beauty (we also went shopping and played badminton, and I have never felt quite so ugly in a little while).
Boosted the broken ego by scoring two appearances on the local evening news. The news worthy events included a couple classes of little Scouts chanting, “You’re beautiful!” and my name being called for more pictures over the mic. Rotary dedicated two clean water systems to two local schools, we dedicated ‘em, and I have never had to smile so much in my life.
Attempted to get by knowing such limited Thai vocab it hurts. School has been difficult. At least I can ride the bus home no problem.
Fallen in love with Zach Braff and Scrubs. Thank you, Bex.
Wanted my Mom, just for a little while. Steve, Bo, and the dogs are permitted as well. See, the thing about exchange is that you don’t realize how much you actually a) are embedded into your own culture b) do feel like home is home is home and will always be, could never be anything else c) like American food.
I’m tired, I have to go over Thai, which I’m finally finding a grip on, and I have to give food to kids at an orphanage tomorrow (TV appearance number 4, thank you very much). In the morning. When else?
More as I realize it. Promise.
Shortly after this post, I plan on sending out an email informing everyone of this blog. By shortly, I very possibly mean two or three days, whenever I feel I’ve completed a decent list. It’s going to look like a copycat of Valeri, but it’s not actually. I’ve been planning to do this for a while.
As far as keeping in touch, with many of you, this is the easiest and most logical way. The goal is to get at least bi-weekly updates, though I don’t promise that under all circumstances. I’ll have to see what kind of schedule works alright as far as accessing the internet. There will be pictures, and I’ll probably have weird things in Thai eventually. (Don’t worry, I’ll translate when that starts happening.) It’ll be cool. I promise.
Any questions, go ahead and ask!
Holly
I feel creative right now. Can’t you tell by the title?
Anyway, it’s T minus two weeks now. I think of it every time I drive, do drugs, date, and drink, every time I visit a friend, every time I snuggle up in my comfortable bed in my familiar room. There’s something stressful about an impending departure; sometimes I just want it to be August 2, have my body on that plane, so I don’t have to think about it anymore. It’s just that after that, I don’t get to come back for a long time. Or, at least, it’ll seem like a long time, until right at the end, where it’ll feel like it went by so fast. …Except everyone at home will have lived on for that year, and you’re expected to snap right back in somehow. That’s not settling well yet.
My grad/going away/(birthday?) party is this weekend. My mom is making a whole to-do of it, putting up huge light up pagodas in the yard, color coordinating lights, placemats, tablecloths, and flower vases, and ordering Thai food–thereby completing a mash-up of Asian cultures not seen before by man, woman, or otherwise. Those of you attending, you will see what I mean. I, personally, fear the pagodas most, and have made this evident, but it appears we’re going through with it. It’s okay with me, because Mom’s really excited about the whole idea. She’s really nervous, sad, everything about me leaving, but she’s been so wonderful and supportive and helpful. It has to be tough for her, knowing this time, I’m not really ever coming back home.
Heck, that’s tough for me. That’s growing up.
I really hope Mom was kidding about working tomorrow. 6 AM is a painful thought here at 1. I should probably try to get some sleep in case.
The easiest explanation is: I am going to Thailand, via Rotary Youth Exchange, from August 2, 2007, to an unknown date in July 2008. I will be learning Thai (or, as an inbound student from Mexico once said, drowning in it), going to University (learning cooking and flower making), and as has been explained by almost everyone, changed irrevocably. As if the Academy hasn’t already treated me to a bit of molding, folding, and twisting–but this is on a much grander scale. Suddenly, it’s gone from intrastate to international.
So the question, “What am I doing?” implies other questions. Ones like, “Am I crazy?” or “What am I thinking?”, neither of which I know a definitive answer to…however, the reality is likely that I am crazy, and I am not thinking at all. I also know myself well enough to recognize that I probably won’t even realize I’m gone until three weeks or so into this whole adventure–and even then, only partially. I might understand something more around Christmas time, when there is nary a snowflake or Santa Claus, and children aren’t decorating trees and putting sprinkles on over-frosted cookies. After all, it took me a year and a half to muster up some actual homesickness driven by something other than hormones/exhaustion/lack of food while away at school. Then again, we were all shooed away home every month for three or four days, and then there were the holidays. So, a five-month estimate–about halfway through all of this–seems most accurate.
On a random note, I bought a new ringtone–Billy Joel, “Still Rock and Roll to Me.” Quite possibly the best song ever. But the ringtone just had to pick up when he says, “Where have you been hiding out lately honey? You can’t dress trashy ’till you spend lots of money…” So I’m keeping it.
[I still don't know how to say goodbye in Thai yet, though I do know how to say, "Shut up," & "Check that boy out"],
Holly
