The Negotiations



This is not my house, but it might as well be.

 My "house" in Sukhothai came with one piece of furniture, so when I finally broke down and bought a small table to put my fan on, my household furniture increased by a staggering 100%. You would think the bar was set unbelievably low for my next rental, but things here have a way of not quite meeting your expectations.

Last week when I got the pitch for my would-be ban chao, rental house, it was touted by my counterpart that there would be lots of kids around for me to play with, "It's nice and small so you can clean it all by yourself! And you will have lots of friends for play dates!" There was a curious lack of promotion for more adult domestic perks. I was getting the pitch for a kid's tree house.

"Does the house have a fridge?" I asked not yet understanding the kind of playhouse I was getting."

"No, no fridge."

"How will I cook?"

"Don't worry, it doesn't have a stove either. You won't be cooking."

"What kind of bed does it have?"

"Oh, you want a bed?"

What is this, Peace Corps Africa? I resented not being seen as "grown-up" enough to deserve a house with adult appliances and a bed. I felt sorry for myself.  I posted something on Facebook just cryptic enough as to solicit lots of comments.

After reading said post, my friend and- I would say- mentor, Kathleen called. She was ready to give me the tough-love kind of pep talk I was ready to resist. But Kathleen has a way of getting through to you,  I realized to actually be a grown-up I had to take responsibility for my own happiness; that meant negotiating a soft place to sleep, a place to stir-fry my vegetables, and a place to store my leftover pineapple. When Kathleen tells you to negotiate, you negotiate.

So I channeled my inner-Kathleen and got myself a bed, a stove, and a fridge. My landlord must have been impressed by my new-found bad-assness, because he threw in a free washing machine.

Last night I went home to my charmless row house carrying a few groceries to put in my new fridge (the fridge actually had not been installed yet, so that was actually kind of a bummer). There were indeed lots of kids running around. I smiled. There was a lot of satisfaction in knowing I got what I needed to be happy in what I'm calling my "First Real House of Adulthood." I negotiated and I won.

Mi Strip Mall Es Su Strip Mall

Of the five or six qualifications for any building to be considered a house, my stall has about four of them. It makes the cut in the bedroom department ;)- meaning it has one- it also has a bathroom. And that's where it stops being a house. My stall, in a long row of stalls just like it, lacks a kitchen, furniture, and a real door. It's probably a better venue for selling pineapple than living in, but I like it.







I have an English-speaking neighbor. I live between two restaurants, competing for my loyalty with free sticky rice and wine coolers. Painfully slow wi-fi is included. My morning commute is down to 6 minutes.There's plenty of space to do yoga, if I ever decide that's something I want to do. My toilet is of the western variety. And one day soon I'll buy a stove so I can make tacos.
Home sweet strip mall.

Miss Songkran 2555

 

Drenching old people is still
an important part of Songkran.

It's 101 degrees and the nationwide water fight is underway. It's Thai New Year, or Songkran, and the centuries-old tradition of washing the feet of elders has devolved into three plus days of water guns,whiskey,  dancing, and general tomfoolery.

Songkran, like almost any event in Thailand starts at the Wat. On the first day, it's almost pious as the younger generation lines up to pay respect to their elders and the Buddha. But it's just not a Thai festival until somebody cracks open a case of 70-proof Thai whiskey and passes out a communal bottle. And just like that the piety is gone. But don't judge too harshly, it's actually amazing that anyone can do shots when the temperature is in the triple digits, these people are to be admired.

Sprinkling water on Buddha's
image is considered good luck.

Everyone one of these seniors offered
up their grandon for me to marry.

The next day of Songkran, the religious pretense is gone. It's all about "len naam," literally playing water. Every kid in Thailand (and the occasional Peace Corps volunteer) stands on the side of the road and throw water at passing motorcycles. The temptation to use  water gun is there, but don't let the Super-Soaker suck you in,  a good old bucket is a lot more efficient. Occasionally some drives by and asks not to be dumped on, they are promptly ignored. But it leave me wondering why you wouldn't want to be sopping wet when it's so damn hot.

Watch out kids!

Some prefer to watch the madness from the shade.

In my tambon, community, the holiday winds down slowly- people are still throwing water three days later. But on the last official day of Songkran, all the neighboring communities gather for a parade up and down the main drag. For the procession the tambons dress up their most beautiful young women in traditional Thai garb. Because I'm a novelty, I was also dressed up. I felt a little guilty, the other women had earned their  titles of Miss Songkran, I just showed up one day with white skin and usurped all of the attention. 

Three or so minutes into the parade started it started pouring. The three hours every gay man in my village spent making me Miss Songkran was for not. But the pictures remain as proof that for two hours I was a Thai princess. And after the parade we dance and drank whiskey in the rain.

My coworker and I are dressed from the Lanna Period.
It took three hours for me to look like this.

30 seconds late it started to rain.

Pulp Reality

It's party season in Thailand. The rice harvest is over and it's time to celebrate. 

In Thailand you may not have a rich Jewish friend to throw an awesome Bar Mitzvah party, but don't worry your friends' parents will take out a high interest loan to throw their son the best Ngan Buat, monk ordination party, you've ever been to. It will be loud and there will be delicious food, trashy entertainment, and dancing. 

Thai music all sounds polyphonic. It's blasted form low-quality speakers and it's horrible, but I dance anyway. If I momentarily stop, people yell something in Thai that I'm sure that means, "Dance monkey, dance." They can't get enough of their pet farang's moves.

They're blasting enough decibels
to make my other ear go deaf, but
 this guy taking a nap.

But I have a secret for being best dancer in Sukhothai. There's no such thing as a cliche here. No one in Thailand has seen the "Shopping Cart" or the "Swim." Even the "Twist" is a fun new new move. As far as they know, I'm totally original (and very talented). 

This leaves it open for me to perform the whole dance from Pulp Fiction without anyone calling out my hackneyed-ass. And perform it I do- at every wedding, ordination, and ceremony I go to. I'm a sensation, all thanks to Travolta's adding a dance scene to a post-modern crime film. Thanks John and Uma!

The Thai Smile Paradox

Land of Smiles?

Many people refer to Thailand the Land of Smiles. It's a cute moniker and even the locals have adopted it their mythology. But everywhere I went Thais were smiling more than the Polish, but no more than Americans. A Thai might flash a warm smile and go right back to looking hot and tired.

So, I wanted to know once and for all if the Thai people live up to their dearly-held smiling stereotype. I designed an experiment to get to the bottom of The Thai Smile Paradox.  

Last week my community had hosted an event for its senior citizens. Sitting in a room full of  Thailand's supposedly happiest residents seemed like a chance to test my "Land Where Some People Smile Some of the Time" hypothesis. To catch the seniors in the act, I set my camera to smile mode- the camera takes a picture automatically when it senses someone is smiling- and waited. I moved my camera around for fifteen minutes trying to capture Thailand's most famous expression. It took fifteen minutes for someone to smile! Theory proven. Thais smile about as much anyone else.

Frog Blog

This is the frog that lives in my bathroom, or rather in the pipe where all my bucket-shower water goes. When he's not in the pipe waiting to pop out at me just as I've shampooed my hair, he's hanging out next to the pipe blocking my access to the toilet. I live in  fear of this little guy.

Thai Leslie Knope

“Yellow haired female… likes waffles and news.”

“The bankrupt government of Pawnee has been shut down all summer so it’s been three months of no work, no meetings, no memos, no late nights, nothing. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” -Leslie Knope


The Sub-District Administrative Office, or Tessaban, where I work is bureaucracy incarnate. It's decentralization and inefficiency nicely packaged in a three-story air-conditioned building. Basically, it's TV's Parks and Recreation. 
Like it's Indiana doppelganger, the Pawnee City Hall, my Tessaban concerns itself primarily with community development- canvassing, event-planning,  focus goups, taks forces and yes, park-building. As the blondest person in the office, I am by default, Leslie Knope. But if I'm Thai Leslie, who's Thai Ron Swanson?

Dek Dek

Dek Dek- Children
เด็ก ๆ

Last Thursday I taught Pre-School English. Now, before you shutter, let me tell you that I like Thai kids. The same language barrier that keeps me from cultivating profound relationships with my peers, helps me make friends with Sukhothai's younger residents. We don't have a lot to talk about, but there's a competitive spirit that keeps it interesting. Like yesterday, I had a conversatin with a baby that ended with me saying, "Ha ha, I speak Thai better than you."

I also like Thai kids because they have funny nicknames. English is King in the ASEAN countries and parents try to keep ahead of the curve by giving their newborns a practical Enlgish-language nickname. But mostly they fall short and you meet kids named, Neptune, Pizza, Fat, Benz, Golf, Noodle, or Seven Eleven. My favorite example so far is the twin girls in my pres-school class nick-named, Nick and Name.

They may be too young to actually learn anything, but I'm looking forward to teaching English to six-year-olds for three to four hours a week.

Tequila! or why this Post is not about What You Think it is About

In 6^th grade after getting as good as I'd ever be at the violin without practicing, I decided to try my unpracticing hand at the French horn. In the first week of 6^th grade band I learned to play Hot Crossed Buns. By Winter Concert I could play Hot Cross Buns and the few measures of the 1958 hit, Tequila! (I wouldn’t understand the exclamation after Tequila for several more years).

Tequila! Was the first song in the set.  I played a few bars and sat back to pretend to play for the rest of the concert. Actually, sitting back might have been my first mistake, as this is not the proper posture for French Horn playing. I would press the keys and inflate my cheeks unconvincingly. While pretending to play I’d be distracted by the unlit scoreboard or a sneezing parent.  Then I’d go back to making chipmunk cheeks for a few bars until I started fantasizing about the trumpeter I had a crush on. My first visit to Sukhothai was a lot like my first French Horn concert.

In Sukhothai, my soon-to-be coworkers drove me around in a government van to meet every dignitary (and I use this word loosely) in town.  At each office, after I flashed a big toothy Thai smile and wai’d like a pro, the Tequila! charade would begin.  My three minute Thai introduction was much like the first few notes of the song, well-rehearsed but hard to listen to. My Thai elevator speech prompted each administrator to turn to my counterpart for a Thai-to-Thai translation. From then on I was bypassed in all my conversations. I sat back and listened as the more competent people played the songs…I mean spoke Thai.

I would try to pay attention. There was a lot to be gleaned from the 40% of my own resume I understood. Luckily I’m more motivated to learn Thai than I was brass instruments. But there were so many things to look at, things much more interesting than anything in the Sandburg Middle School gym.

For one, in the early stages of reading Thai, every word is like a puzzle I must solve. It won’t surprise you to learn that I dig puzzles. For me, all of Thailand is covered in the New York Times Friday Crossword (Friday because I can only get about a third of it). I dare you to conduct an interview in a room wall-papered in crosswords.

Strange Mountains in Sukhothai

Then in the conversation I catch the word “gaan-ga-seet.” Oh okay, I know this one…agriculture. I’m going to be working in agriculture. I focused my attention on whichever unfortunate low-ranking official I was meeting with, smile and repeat, “gaan-ga-seet.”

Suddenly I’m in fine sixth grade form, puffing my cheeks like a pro, feigning comprehension and interest. I fix my attention on the Director of Informal Education but just behind are these weird round mountains that just demand attention.

I think my PC Training Manager worried I might lack concentration because during me Placement Interview she asked me if I get bored easily. I wouldn't say bored. My own thoughts scare me but they never bore me. I told her no. 

My band director probably worried the same thing but playing in the band never bored me either, I had plenty of thoughts to keep me busy while my classmates played instruments. 

I've gotten a little better at covering my tracks. In 6th grade when everybody stood up to yell, "Tequila!" at the end of the song, (is this appropriate for middle school?) I just sat there stupidly realizing much too late I missed my cue. At the Office of Agriculture I zoned in just in time to give another wai and thank the officer very much for his time. And my character has developed some too. After the winter concert I quit band so I would never have to play in a concert again. After Sukhothai I went back to Sing Buri to work my ass off learning Thai so I will rock all future interviews.

Dawn of Language

Sukhothai

This is a translation of my new Thai language Sukhothai elevator speech. I think my weak language skills really come through:

I will live in Sukhothai. It's in North Thailand. It has lots of fried peanuts and a historical park. It has some mountains and lots of chickens. The name means Dawn of Happiness. The people are nice in Sukhothai. In Sukhothai I will work at an office and help farmers.

Historical Park