The March 2013 One Hundred Baht Challenge

I read this essay to a group of fellow volunteers and PC staff at a conference this week. The first few paragraphs are excerpted from a previous post but the rest is new.

I'd like to thank my PCV friend, Mike Hamby for his editing help.

I'm taking an online course on global poverty offered by MIT through EdX, one of those free online class websites. The professors, Esther Duflo and Abhijit Banjeree are rock stars of sorts in the economic development world. They're renowned for their groundbreaking and often surprising poverty research. One of the lectures topics for the class was on nutrition. Some of the presented material was particularly unexpected to me, until I considered my own life as a broke Peace Corps Volunteer.

Duflo and Banjeree found that when families living below the poverty line were given an additional expenditure for food, they did not buy more food. Instead they bought tastier food. That is to say poor people, rather than bridging their caloric gap with low-cost staple items, bought junk food.

The world's poor are rational agents and I don't mean to make light of their nutrition challenges but I will use this economic paradox to shed light on my own silly Peace Corps-kind of poverty.

A fellow Thailand PCV, also taking the class, pointed out that this is exactly how a PCV behaves when she gets a similar injection of capital in the form of pay day. I’ve been known to eat Mama, Thai instant noodles, twice a day all month long, then go to Bangkok with my pay day surplus and eat only things with cheese.

At site, I may spend one or two dollars per day (well, not this month), but while on bpai-tiao, vacation, I spend like I'm still an entry level accounting assisting living at home, basically I make it rain.

100 Baht, All I Had to My Name

This counter-intuitive consumption pattern came into sharp focus this past month. The events leading up to my self-imposed “March 2013 One Baht Challenge" are something I don’t care to relive, but suffice to say at the beginning of last month, after bpai-tiao in a quaint Northeastern province on the 
Lao border, I still owed several months’ rent and my bank account was tapped out – if the University of Wisconsin could see my bank statements they'd take away my economics degree. I found myself with 100 baht to last until Pay Day- for those of you following along stateside, that's about 3.22 USD.

The "One Hundred Baht Challenge" became the "One Hundred and Fifty Baht Challenge" on a Sunday when I cleaned my house and found an additional fifty baht ($1.60) in change. In a classic poverty trap maneuver I proceeded to go out and spend the fifty baht on my favorite food and frequent topic of conversation, Som Tam, Spicy Papaya Salad.

Could I make it the month on roughly three USD? Would the money last till Pay Day in a Hanukkah-esque miracle? I was lucky Thailand has such a wide offering of instant noodles.

Ill now add the disclaimer that several people offered to bail me out Wall Street-style, including the Bank of Sharon and Elton Langland with its very favorable rates. But I've gotten a number of bailout packages in the past and I felt ready to learn some lesson. So, this is what I had to work with:

1/3 Jar of Peanut Butter
12 Packages of Mama Noodles 
1 Box of Kraft Macaroni
1/2 Bag of Wild Rice
1 Box of Quinoa
2 Bars of Dark Chocolate
1/2 Bag of Sweethearts
6 Cloves of Garlic
1/2 Bottle of Hot Sauce
1 lb. Coffee
1/2 Oyster Sauce
3 Packs M&Ms
1 Roll of Thin Mints

It was clear I would need to supplement this inventory by adding the generosity of the Thai people to my list.  I was  on the hunt for free food. And in unexpected ways this selfish quest changed my life at site for the better.

As most of you know I started out my service in Sukhothai, a Northern province that served as Thailand's first capital in the 13th-15th centuries, and as most of you know I'm no longer there. Security concerns triggered by aggressive overtures from the Nayoke, mayor, meant I would be move to Isan, the culturally Lao Northeastern region. The Safety and Security Officer, Phanuthat, and I took a road trip and I arrived in Nakhon Ratchasima with a van full of stuff and more emotional baggage than I had planned on bringing along.

In Sukhothai I had a very caring relationship with the women of my sub-district office. In the aftermath of the security incident I thought my Tessaban ladies would have my back, in a way the hierarchical political structure didn't allow. In hindsight, I can understand many of the cultural constraints on my relationship with these women, but I left Sukhothai feeling burned.

The incident, in my mind, really highlighted my status as an outsider and caused me to turn inwards instead of out to my community when searching for stability at my new site. I sought to be highly self-sufficient, hoping my “healthy boundaries” would endear me to my colleagues and neighbors in my new sub-district, Takhob. I knew they would appreciate how well I could make it on my own. I never asked for rides. I came and went without fanfare. I did all my own cooking. I spent lots more time cultivating relationships with other PCVs.

But after a few months of feeling increasingly isolated, I began to wonder if one man’s "healthy boundaries" are a Thai man’s unnecessary emotional walls.  My attempts to stay an emotional arm’s length may have been seen as disinterest in my community.

I had trapped myself in a negative feedback loop. As I projected “okayness” to my community members, they rightly assumed I was “okay” and reached out less. Un-ironically the less they reached out the less “okay” I was.

This destructive cycle might have continued had I not completely run out of money, and in a surprise twist, came to my senses.

Now, let me now disclaim, if things had gotten "that bad," someone would have sent me money. But after taking stock of my meagerly stocked house, I realized if I really wanted to turn my humiliating tale of poverty into a heroic one, I would need to rely on the people I had assumed I should not to rely on.

Sharing a meal

The very gracious teachers and karatchagan, civil servants, at my schools and Tessaban respectively, always offer to share lunch with me. Typically, I wouldn't take them up on it, in an effort to not be a mooch. In March, having no money to speak of, how could I refuse their generosity?

Civil Servants having lunch at the Tessaban

Kuhn Yai, the grandmother, across the street called out nearly every day for me to join her family for dinner. I had previously erred on the side of self-reliance, but now thought it was as good a time as any to sit down to a meal with my favorite Yai.

Kuhn Yai Dancing at a Monk Ordination

When passing a monk ordination or a wedding on my bike and I would smile yell, "sawatdi ka," hello, and keep riding, basically ignoring calls to join in the festivities. During the challenge month,  hunger coupled with  no pretense of anything better to do, led me to stop and partake in the food and dancing.

Now, I would like to point out the I'm not a complete monster. I absolutely planned on replaying at least a little of the generosity. When I got paid I would really doll out the kanoms, sweet Thai snacks.

A new feedback loop started to take shape, this time a positive one. The more I sat down with my coworkers, neighbors, and fellow party-goers, the more comfortable it was. I felt better about sharing and enjoying the abundance in my tight-knit farming community. I reached out, not because I had to but because I wanted to.

I can't help but be reminded of the familiar "Rom Com" trope: boy using girl or girl using boy for some ulterior motives before the rouse turns into real love. This is the plot for half of all movies.

My integration attempts may have started out with, albeit benign, ulterior motives but they became as genuine as a Hypothetical Male Lead’s contrite confessions.

Maybe unsurprisingly to you the reader, when I started reaching out instead of in, things began to change. Not only did my community endear itself to me through their generosity and kindness, but...

In my efforts to radiate self-sufficiency, I neglected to realize that it's not highly valued here. There are a few English phrases that almost everyone here knows and uses with some frequency. One is: "take care." That "taking care" is one of the primary ideas Thailand would like to convey to the English-speaking world tells you a lot about its culture of generosity.  This didn't manifest itself to me until I began to let them do just that, "take care". I realized I needed taking care of and many people jumped into to do just that. And completely surprising to me, they seemed to enjoy it. They showed me nam jai, generosity, and I learned just how powerful and genuine this core Thai belief is. Literally, nam jai means water heart or the essence of the heart, but it's more encompassing definition of generosity, thoughtfulness, hospitality, and charitableness is reflected in every aspect of the social sphere. Letting my friends, neighbors, and coworkers "take care" and show me nam jai was letting them share a part of their culture I had thus far neglected to appreciate.

By the kindness of neighbors, my sad-sack self ended the month with a few servings of quinoa and two cloves of garlic, then behaved exactly like the economists predicted by going out and spending a bunch of money on junk food at Tesco Lotus, Thailand's answer to Walmart. I survived the self-inflicted poverty but the lion’s share of credit goes to my Chumchon Takhob, community for showing me the nam jai I finally learned to accept.
  

Gin Khao

If it seems I write a lot about food on my blog, it's only fitting because in Thailand we talk a lot about food.

My favorite thing about Thai culture, hands down is the Thai meal...sometimes I even like the food. Families, neighbors, or coworkers gather to chat, eat rice, and share between five and ten other dishes or gap khao, literally "with rice."

Having a meal, gin khao, literally "eating rice" in Thailand means never having to choose. Should I have noodle salad or smelly fish? The answer is yes. You should also eat sausage, stir fry, curry, and an omelette as well.

I don't relish the day in 2014 when I'm at restaurant and a patient waiter asks me what one menu item I want,"I have to choose!?"

Maybe my whole family is adverse to rushing through just one culinary offering plus a choice of vegetable. As a foursome we've always favored sharing late night half-priced appetizers along with good conversation at Applebee's to actually cooking and eating just one dish at home.

But unlike at Applebee's with the Langland's, in Thailand you don't have to scramble to eat all the buffalo wings before they're gone; the conversation runs out long before the food. Thai customs dictate you make/order much more food than the group can possibly eat. While you start eating at a pretty brisk pace, the eating slows as the meal goes on; people picking at the lukewarm food while continuing to gossip and banter.

And this gets at best part of all in Thai dining culture, there's no shame in picking. In the States it's considered in poor taste to pick away at near empty bowls or continuing to eat after conspicuously announcing, "I'm so full. Not so in Thailand, announcing, "I'm so full" means you probably only want another half of a serving a rice and will only continue eating your favorite gap khao.

Even at work a meal will go on for hours, people picking all the while. Today was a particularly good food day at the office-much less fermented fish than usual. After a hearty helping of fried rice, vegetables, and Chinese sausages, I proclaimed in English a phrase I taught my Thais, "So full, but so good." One of my coworkers took the hint and dished me up another plate of fried rice. Sometimes I really dig this country.

One Hundred Baht Challenge

My One Hundred Baht Challenge became my Hundred and Fifty Baht challenge Sunday, when I cleaned my house and found an additional fifty baht in change.

In a classic poverty trap maneuver I proceeded to go out and spend the fifty baht on my favorite food and frequent topic of conversation, Som Tam.

So I'm back to where I started and ready to report. In this weeks' episode of This American Life, John Hodgeman suggests have both a "heroic aspect and a declothed, humiliated, embarrassed aspect as well. My cash-strapped misadventures may well shape up to be a good story. Assuming I make it through the month, you may be impressed by my frugality and ultimate triumph, and amused by my self-inflicted poverty and depressing culinary options.

So in hopes this is indeed, one day, a good story, I'll take inventory but not before sharing this disclaimer: every day at work my generous coworkers feed me a well-balanced meal of rice and some other stuff. So I'm only left to fend for my sad-sack self evenings and weekends.

I'll also disclaim that several people have offered to bail me out this month Wall Street-style, including the Bank of Sharon and Elton Langland-with its very favorable interest rates. But I've gotten a number of bail-out packages through the years, mostly in college and maybe I'm ready to learn my lesson. Or maybe I just want the bragging rights to once having lived off three dollars for an entire month. Either way, I have thirteen days to go.

I've already finished off my small stash of fruit leather, granola bars, and a chocolate bar so here's what's left:

1/3 Jar of Peanut Butter
6 Packs of Ramen
1 Box of Kraft Macaroni
1/2 Bag if Wild Rice
1 Box of Quinoa
2 Bars of Dark Chocolate
1/2 Bag of Sweethearts
6 Cloves if Garlic
1/2 Bottle of Tapatio
1 lb. Coffee
1/2 Oyster Sauce
3 Packs M&Ms
Roll of Thin Mints

...and eighty Baht, not including the twenty Baht I need to get to the bank bright and early on the 25th.

Notes from Below the Poverty Line

I'm taking an online course on global poverty offered by MIT through a website called EdX. The professors, Esther Duflo and Abhijit Banjeree are rock stars of sorts in the economic development world. They're renowned for their  groundbreaking and often surprising poverty research. Last week's class was on nutrition and one of their findings presented in the lecture was particularly unexpected to me until I considered my own life as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Duflo and Banjeree found that when families living below the poverty line were given an additional expenditure for food, did not buy more food. Instead they bought tastier food. That us to say poor people, rather than bridging their caloric gap with low-cost staple items just bought junk food.

The world's poor are rational agents and I don't mean to make light of their nutrition challenges but I will use this economic paradox to shed light on my own silly Peace Corps-kind of poverty.

My friend, Sarah, pointed out that this is exactly how a PCV behaves when she gets a similar injection of capital in the form of pay day. Sarah and I have been known to eat ramen noodle soup two meals a day all month long, then go to Bangkok with our pay day surplus and eat nothing but pizza and McDonald's (one of the great ironies of my service is how much more often I eat McDonald's in Thailand than I do in the States).

I make roughly $310 US per month (for those of you following along at home that's about $3600 per year- which makes my parents happy because they can still claim me as a dependent this year), but I don't spend $10 per day. It's feast or famine or me. I've often said that if the University of Wisconsin could see my bank statements they'd take away my economics degree. At site I may spend one or two dollars per day, but on vacation bpai-tiao, vacation,  I spend like I'm still an entry level accounting assisting living with her parents; basically I make it rain.

This counter-intuitive consumption pattern is particularly accurate for me this month, having already blown through most of my monthly $310. Paying three different month's rent this week has left me high and dry.

I have 100 baht to get me through till March 25th. Can I make through the month on three dollars? I'll keep you posted. Lets just say, I'm glad Thailand has so many available flavored of ramen.

If I make it, one day Ill be telling my children (and probably my grandchildren) about the time I lived on $3 for 21 days, then proceeded to spend a hundred dollars on pizza over the course of a weekend in Bangkok.

The Kindness of Neighbors

Two medium-length stories from December in which I look like an asshole and my Thai neighbors save the day.

Story #1

With nothing to eat in my house other than live ants (and though tempting, sitting in the dark and eating live bugs is a little too Renfield for me), I ventured out into the sun light to buy green beans. I was less surprised than you would think to find my bike was missing (The best way I've ever heard this country described: Thailand, always shocking, never surprising). I just assumed well-meaning neighbor decided to store at their house for some unknown reason, the natural consequence for not locking up my bike.

I left for the market assuming the bike would magically be back by the time I got home. Several bags of vegetables and an hour later I returned home and my back was still MIA. In my heart I know the bike will just show up.  I make lunch and take a nap.

...When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter. But I stayed in my bed because I had no interest in what was the matter. But after a few minutes I could no longer ignore all the yelling and banging. At my door I found every Yai, old woman, and in the village. Yais are a lot like Desi Arnez when he's worked up and starts yelling Spanish, the more excited a Yai gets the faster she speaks in Lao.

I tried to sneak back inside but then an ambulance pulls up, which is weird even for Thailand. Everyone is yelling, "bicycle, bicycle!" plus other Laos words, and acting out the act of "thievery." Is my bike in the ambulance? Did the driver steal my bike? Have the neighbors prophesied a nasty spill from my back and subsequent ambulance ride? They gesture for me to get in the ambulance and since I longer try to make sense out of my life, I jumped in.

Everyday I pray I won't need an ambulance in Thailand so it was relief when the ride ended about half a kilometer away at the small police station. There my bike was waiting. It was picked up by the cops from a  ne'er-do-well youth after as many as ten neighbors called in my stolen vehicle. Not a scratch on the bike.

This is why I don't worry when my bike is periodically jacked by a wayward adolescent, thanks to the kindness of neighbors, things in Thailand just kind of work out

Story #2

In Thailand you neighbors also have your back when your problem is your totally your fault...and maybe a little the fault of Thai food.

My gut hates Thai food almost as much as I love Thai food. The local word for this kind of relationship, tong sia, translates to broken stomach. My stomach is pretty much wrecked.

Sometimes my stomach breaks on a bus ride kilometers from the next rest stop. The sweat beads on my forehead and the words of wisdom from a PCV Morocco ring in my ears, "it's not if you shit your pants, it's when." Other times it breaks will I'm blogging at the local internet cafe...

My helpful neighbors had a key to my house. They peer my window when I'm not home to see if my pillow needs rearranging or my floor needs sweeping, then they come in and rearrange my pillows or sweep my floor. Being as asshole,  I changed my padlock. Being an idiot, I forgot to put my new key on my key ring.

One late night at the internet cafe, sometime after I switched out my locks, my stomach started to break. I hopped on my frequently stolen bike and peddled home hoping this wouldn't be the time I shit my pants. When I realize my key won't open my new lock, I'm sure it will be.

I stand outside my house for a while doing a tong sia-dance and fiddling with the lock. I can't decide which is worse: actually pooping in my pants or admitting to the nice ladies next door I changed my lock so they can't clean while I'm on vacation.

I really liked the handicraft-style orange pants I had on so I decided to face my aggressively-helpful Lao-speaking neighbors. But first I needed to use their squat toilet.

When I emerge from the third-world-style bathroom to a chorus of, "Mi tong sia mai?" Is your stomach broken? my door is already open (by this time everyone in the town has gathered to listen to the Farang's bathroom woes).  I expected  a drawn out affair with locksmiths and/or really large scissors when all it took was my landlord and a screwdriver to take the door right off, which was both scary and relief because by this time I needed a toilet again. My neighbors for the second time in a week had come to the rescue. Things is Thailand just kind of work out.

But of course, the moral of both stories is: if you have ten minutes and a Phillip's Head screwdriver, you too and break into my house.

Happy Camper

American Women's Club English Camp Jan.2013

I've always had a somewhat uneasy relationship with kids. I think they're adorable and all, but but there's something about their tiny hands and un-jaded attitudes that puts me ill-at-ease. So it came as a great surprise to me that I love teaching English Camps. Teaching camps is my favorite part of Peace Corps that isn't going on vacation. When I visit a different site for two to three days to teach kids about the environment, sexual health or ASEAN I am in my element.

For those of you who don't know, I twice played the part of Leper #2 in my church's production of Jesus Christ Superstar. This was less cringe-worthy than you might think, because although my voice is nothing to write home about, our small Lutheran Church attracted a handful  of really talented people. At age-fifteen I sang the hell out of my solo, "See my eyes I can hardly see...See my stand I can hardly walk." And at age twenty-one, while most things religious in nature now give my anxiety, I still harbor warm feelings towards this Andrew Lloyd Weber Masterpiece.

 The point of this Superstar non sequitur, is that in one of the more moving scenes, Jesus sings a song that I relate to as a volunteer. Please laugh along with me, as I make this grandiose comparison. Before the crucifixion as he prays in Gethsemane, Jesus sings the following lines:

"Then I was inspired, now I'm sad an tired...Tried for [one] year, seems like thirty, seems like thirty..."

Okay, that it is it. That is the one relatable moment in the life of Jesus Christ. Also, I changed the word, three to one, because I've only been here one year. But the sentiment holds. I arrived in Thailand with a BS in agriculture and boundless enthusiasm. My development classes taught me that the odds were stacked against me, but I knew I would be an awesome volunteer. So I tried really hard, and continue to try really hard. And it's tiring, and I don't feel so inspired. 

Which brings me back to English Camps. At English Camps I get to be the volunteer I want to be the rest of my days in rural Thailand. I get to show up in another province and give all my energy and love to a bunch of really deserving kids. At Camp I am so cool, in December fourth graders literally got up out of their seats and cheered when I taught them origami, this is Dead Poets Society-kind-of shit (minus Robin Williams, who is horrible). I leave all my exhaustion and recycling project-failure back at my own site and get to be the kind of American goodwill ambassador Peace Corps can be proud of, and I can be proud of. 

It's a cliche but these camps rejuvenate me. I head back to Nakhon Ratchasima at the end of the weekend ready to take on my own Peace Corps assignment.  I hold my head a little higher and try once more to drum up interest in project to reduce Dengue Fever. 

Then I fall back into my old ways. My attempts at projects feel futile, I pass by the community kids without engaging them, I turn down another invite to have dinner at my Lao-speaking neighbor's house. I fall back and sit back while listening to Gethsemane on repeat, waiting until the next English Camp and my chance to shine. 

PC Volunteers at Camp

Thai'm

"If I had a minute for every hour I wasted, I'd be doing fine on time."
             -Jack Johnson

I haven't blogged in a while because Peace Corps gives me low-grade depression...and well, depression isn't funny. So I've spared you, the reader, from the last month of my life, which can be described in a word as a bummer (Though I have high hopes for February).

But in an effort to both look on the bright side and prove to all of us that I haven't fallen off the map, I've decided to blog about all the free time I have.

In my real life I would never waste my time with origami. This isn't because I'm so busy and productive it's just that I can find better ways to waste time. In the wifi-wasteland that is my one-room concrete apartment, origami is one way I keep my brain from falling out.

I've also stepped up my podcast game. Economic broadcasting is my bitch. And shout out to Ira Glass for recording 485 hours of on-demand radio gold. Ira, if you are reading this and planning an episode on time-wasting, I can be reached for interviews in between the hours of 11 pm and 4 am EST.

After sliding through both high school and college without actually reading an entire book besides Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I am proud to announce in the last year, I've read twenty-three. Thanks you, Nook. Confession time: if at any time in the previous seven years of my life, I compared notes with you on a book, I probably just skimmed  and/or Spark Note'd it. Someday in 2014, Stateside, let's you and I have a real convo about books, now that I'm a bonafide reader.

Books are great, especially for waiting in train stations, but that bulk of my awake time (when I'm not eating mangoes, of course) i spent watching illegally-downloaded TV on my laptop.  I've powered through some quality dramas like West Wing, Mad Men, and The Sopranos, but a lot of what I watch is mindless girl-power comedy. After a long day of speaking Thai and writing proposals for organic farming seminars no one attend, it's time to live vicariously through Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Zooey Deschanel. I watch HBO's Girls, for the opposite reason: to feel better about not being young and single in the city.

In the Peace Corps I also have time to list things. So here is a non-exhaustive list of time-killing things I do in Thailand.

1. Origami. This aforementioned activity is my primary creative outlet
2. Digital Scrap-booking. My second creative outlet is spending hundreds of hours (not figuratively) photo-archiving my life and presenting it in a way that makes it look like I enjoy my time here.
3. Reading New York Times Best-Sellers. The Help was better than I anticipated.
4. Watching the movie version of books I just read. Again, The Help, better than average.
5. Making paper beads that I'll never turn into jewelry. I don't even count this as creative.
6. Eating unripe fruit. In the States, I just buy ripe fruit, but here munching on unripe papayas dipped in sugar with the office ladies is a good way to kill an afternoon.
7. Yoga. I hate yoga, 'nuff said.
8. Talking on the phone. Why talk when you can text? I'll tell you why: Starvation for English-language interaction.
9. Mall Walking. There's air-conditioning!
10. Making spreadsheets. I'm not going to pretend this is a new thing for me. But rating each day of Peace Corps on a scale from one to ten and then graphing it is extreme even for me.
11. Blogging. Please read my blog!