Today, for the next 4 minutes anyway, is celebrated as the King of Thailand's birthday. He was born in 1927 in Massachusetts of all places, and is revered as more than royalty. He's reached god-like status.
So I celebrated in true fashion: by doing more Christmas shopping (which was a brilliant success!). While at the night bazaar, I listened to fireworks over my head, but couldn't see them. We were at a stall that had a TV in it, and stopped to watch the live festivities going on at the Grand Palace where thousands of devote Thais gathered to celebrate and honor the birthday boy's 83rd birthday.
Happy birthday king of Thailand, father of the Siamese, Bhumibol Adulyadej. You have my utmost respect.
I went Christmas shopping last night in the Central department store, which is like the Macy's of the mall in America. With that in mind, think about shopping there for seasonal things as opposed to, say, the Dollar Tree. You catch my drift? When a decent tree and ornaments cost well over a hundred dollars, my wallet threatens to leave me.
But that's not what is so sad. Shopping for Christmas decorations for my apartment is just a reminder -- a BIG reminder -- that I'll be alone for Christmas. That I won't be home with family for Christmas. That I won't be surrounded by friends that I grew up with. That the lack of cold weather, freezing hands, and icy roads completely voids any semblance for Christmas no matter how many wreaths and bells I scatter around my apartment.
These were my thoughts as I spent over 2,000 baht on decorations that I didn't even have the heart to buy with joyful anticipation. That is why they are still sitting in two huge bags in my living room. That is why I need to wait until I have energy to put them up without feeling completely sorry for myself.
I never thought I would be sad -- actually sad about spending Christmas away from family; away from the familiar. I guess the gypsy life does have its drawbacks.
This last week I began an honest search for a second-hand bookstore here in Bangkok that sold books in English. My search brought me to Dasa (with an accent over the first 'a'). While I didn't spend a lot of time here, I'm sure I'll be back very soon. They have a vast array of books in English -- they're not just the random books no one ever hears of -- and three floors of them. :)
Love #1: books
My hunt for books came when I realized that a family in our church needs some good reading material to keep them busy on slow days. I was starting to think I would have to order these books online, but low and behold here they were on the second floor in the children's section: The complete Chronicles of Narnia in one book. I casually browsed for several other authors and found several Christian ones I like. Since I didn't want to take back so many books (they are quite heavy), I just bought three.
The first one: Chronicles of Narnia. Mission accomplished. The second one: ....something about beauty and truth? Okay, so I don't remember the title, but that's only because the cover looked interesting and was a complete impulse buy. Impulse buys on books never turn out satisfying, so I'm crossing my fingers. The third one: The Highlord. Definitely a surprise. You see, I started this trilogy at my aunt and uncle's place this summer, but since the books are all over 500 pages each, I only made it through the first two and left before getting into the third book. Would you believe it, Dasa only had the third book in stock! God's pretty amazing to give me a treat like that (even though it's not a Christian book and is all about magicians.....hmm, does that mean it's not from God?). In any case, I'm pretty excited to start it even though it'll have to wait until I have free time, and not at midnight like it is now.
Love #2: coffee
That's right folks, this bookstore has a coffee shop. There is a very limited set of drinks, but it is good to go. No chai, however, which would make this the perfect place to be if it had that autumn-spicy goodness.
Love #3: home
So strange, but for the twenty minutes I was in there, I didn't feel like I was in Bangkok surrounded by strangers. I felt like I was home in a local bookstore in Salem, Oregon. Downtown Salem is quite quaint, and there's this little coffee shop called Governor's Cup that serves excellent chai. I felt like I was there -- only surrounded by books. There was just this eclectic vibration throughout the entire place that told me to pull up a chair, order an espresso, and open up a good book. And it felt like Oregon.
Today I had my first Thailand dental experience. It was torture. Not like torture. It was torture.
When I sat down in the reclining chair and waited as they slowly tipped it back, I wondered why we were in a closed room with no windows. I wondered why there were three masked and gloved women in the cramped space with me. I wondered why they were putting a dark cloth over my face. But I sat there like a fool waiting for my death.
And then it happened.
All the drill sounds you hear in horror flicks when a person is gagged and about to have something vital cut off start whirling right above of my gaping mouth. And then the torture began.
With my face completely covered, save my mouth (you thought I was exaggerating, didn't you?), I heard a number of whirling gadgets -- none of which contained the appropriate toothpastey stuff normally found on whirling gadgets. She poked and prodded in my mouth, showered my teeth with liters of water (trying on the metric system for size, how am I doing?), and didn't even bother sucking it out with that other tube that was hanging out at the back of my throat with my uvula. I swear, she nearly attached that thing to my soft pallet and forgot about the water and saliva pooling at the base of my tongue. I ended up swallowing it until she was done with the dry tooth-cleaning. The scraping of metal against my teeth was worse than nails on a chalkboard -- not only did I hear the atrocious sound, I also had to endure the feel of it against my teeth. Now I'm wondering if the two other girls in attendance could tell how much I was cringing under the face cloth by the clutching of my hands in my lap.
Just as I was ready to rip the cloth off of my face, all the while surprised my arms weren't tied down, I felt it lifted off of me, and the bright light from the dentist lamp shone down on me. I was advised to spit and rinse my mouth. No thanks, I've already swallowed it already.
But wait, there's more.
The 'regular' teeth-cleaning portion began, complete with face cloth, water, and the reuniting of my soft pallet and the sucky tube. The distinct feeling of actual paste against my teeth was a blessed relief. At least this was something I was familiar with. I waited in darkness for it to all be over; feeling exposed, vulnerable, and not the least comfortable. Finally, the cloth was removed for the last time and a mirror was shoved in my hand. I was instructed to open my mouth again so the dentist could point out the cleanliness of my teeth, but I was distracted by all the greyish spots around my mouth, arms, and even a little on my clothes. The crusty paste had seeped into my deepest pores. I ground my teeth and immediately felt it everywhere. No amount of rinsing could cleanse me of the horrific memory of such a deed.
I left directly after I paid. Why I paid for such torture, I will never know. And what do you suppose I did when I left that unassuming horror show? Stuff my face with dinner. And dessert.
Much has happened and much is unaccountable about Thailand life (I have you know I've started several blogs but haven't quite gotten around to posting them; this means that one of these days there will be 5 posts and all of them old news).
Here is one small snippet though: shopping is so cheap here in SE Asia (including in the Philippines), that I may never buy clothes in the States again. I just went on a weekend shopping spree and came back from the market with two dresses, a pair of sandals, and a gold necklace/bracelet/ring -- all for less than 1000 baht (for those unfamiliar with the baht/dollar exchange rate, it's about $30). A deal? I think so.
And this is just a normal weekend. I can easily buy a dress a week and be happy. In fact, I'm pretty sure I do. So far I have two 'Ali Bubba' pants, a half dozen dresses, two more 'fun pants,' two pairs of sandals, a honkin gold necklace/choker, and two gold-leaf wrist bands. There's probably more in my closet, but it's midnight and I'm too lazy to actually open my wardrobe to see all my goodies.
You see, I shop for any reason possible. I shop after I just get paid, I shop when I'm happy, I shop when I'm stressed, I shop when I'm depressed, I shop for clothes when I go to get groceries. Is it a disease? Perhaps. But whatever it is, I want to catch it and never let go. My mom warned me about spending too much, but truthfully, (and more so here in Thailand), I don't spend more than $8 on anything. Anything. My dresses have all been $7, my sandals have been $3.50, and my jewelry has been $6. I am a well-kept woman with an eye for sales. And the best part of all: every item has been bought from a market. I love market shopping because you can haggle prices. It is the best place to shop for clothes. It is the best place to shop for anything.
So who needs American prices or American brands? Give me a nameless dress any day for 200B and I'll be happy.
PS- I was at an early Halloween/costume party earlier tonight and realized that everything I was wearing was all bought here in Bangkok within the past month. That is awesome.
Last Friday was the night I fulfilled my goal of using all of Bangkok's modes of transportation.
So far the main mode of transportation I've utilized has been by far and away the taxi. Not as 'glamorous' as back in the States, when being able to even afford such a ride made me feel richer than a poor college student; however, here taxi rides (when shared with others) cost about the equivalent of about a dollar. But after about a hundred taxi rides to and from EVERYWHERE, they lose their appeal and become more cumbersome than exciting.
So besides the taxi there's also the sky-train and the subway (which I coincidentally took today too) -- the BTS and MRT, respectively. They are very clean and efficient, albeit a bit more expensive per person, but they definitely get you where you need to go in a fraction of the time. If I lived downtown (or close to it), I probably would use the BTS almost exclusively. It's the best way to avoid traffic, which I hate.
And of course there's the river taxis......it's just like it sounds -- a boat that provides transportation up and down the river. However, I must say that this is more like a river bus instead of a taxi. These boats can fit about a hundred people and it costs about 16 baht-ish. I took these when I went to the Grand Palace. It required going from taxi to BTS to river taxi, but eventually, I made it to the Palace (with much walking too!). I've only taken these to and from the the Palace (which I seriously doubt I'll be going back to anytime soon), so I think that'll be the last time on the river for a while.
Regular buses have become a frequent way of travel for me out in Bang Na. I usually take it a couple times a week at least. Mondays are Thai lesson days, so we usually hop on the 48 or 46 and ride down the dusty road to the YWAM about 15 minutes away, depending on traffic. And now that I know how 'quick' and cheap it is to take the bus, I take it to the mall. A lot. 8 baht goes a long way here.
But finally, against everything expats have been saying, I took a motorcycle taxi. The motorcycle taxi that people filled my mind for two weeks with morbid accidents and bodies being dragged down the highway or hands being clipped off by a passing semi. Yes, I took one of these. After a horrendous regular taxi ride that should have only cost me 45 baht since it was five minutes down the road, ended up costing me 120 baht and the guy didn't even drop me off at my destination because he had no idea where I wanted to go. Yup, he stopped and asked for directions twice -- by the second time, I got out and sat at the bus stop helplessly. Thank goodness for the moto-taxi driver chillin out there, otherwise I would have been screwed. I asked him if he knew where Bang Na Villa was, hopped on the back of his bike and we were off. Against 6 lanes of traffic. On the highway. He was surprisingly a very careful and gentle driver though, and took it easy on the rough parts. It totally wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be, and I was thrilled to have gotten over my fear. I look forward to my next encounter. :)
Now that I've taken every mode of transportation available in Bangkok, I feel like a real Thai. I made sure to look like a pro on the back of the bike -- cool shades, Thai purse, and Thai sandals -- yup, I had it all figured out.
I'd like to say right now that I absolutely love my students. They are the bomb. Asian kids kick American kids butt. No lie.
Every day is a new experience, a new memory, a new cultural moment. I wish I remembered all of them, because, let's face it -- every single day I have a story to tell the girls after classes and soccer -- so there's no way to record all of them. Here's just a snapshot of a typical class period (I say 'typical' simply because something odd always comes up).
But I have a confession to make: I have a boyfriend.
I didn't know I had a boyfriend before that class came in for 5th period last week, but now apparently I am in a long-distance relationship with a buff, rich guy back in the States. They haven't figured out how we met yet, but we've been dating for two years and he's rich enough to buy me expensive jewelry (I just so happen to be wearing bling on my left ring finger).
They've established that he's buff because they think he might come over to visit me and beat them up if I tell him that the class has been giving me a hard time. Since last Friday, they've been asking me about him daily and want to see a picture of him. Since he doesn't exist, I really have nothing to show for our long, passionate relationship. Maybe he's not that photogenic...?
I'm trying to avoid the subject completely. It hasn't worked out so well for me. But let me start at the beginning.....
We were talking about journalism, and how as reporters we should use 'question words' as a way to organize our information before we write the article (if you don't know what they are, they're the 5 Ws and the H). One boy makes some smart alec remark, so I asked him if that's what he said to get a girl to go out with him. I was just giving him a hard time because they're 8th graders, and they shouldn't have girlfriend at this point. He ducked his head and mumbled that he didn't have a girlfriend (as I suspected). Well the class totally turned it on me, and asked if I have a boyfriend. Instead of immediately answering 'no' and moving on, I paused, and for some reason blushed. I don't have a boyfriend. Not here, not in the States, not anywhere around the world (ahem: now accepting applications for the position) JOKES. So there was absolutely no reason for me to blush.....and yet I couldn't stop smiling and stumbling over my words.
Of course this only fueled the kids more into believing that I really did have a beau back home and didn't want to talk about it. This started the barrage of questions in which the class innocently stated that they were just using the tools I taught them -- employing the 5 Ws and the H -- in order to get the big picture behind my supposed love life. I side-stepped most questions, preferring to let them reach their own conclusions by my silence or refusal to deny their assumptions. Still, my blushing continued. (Maybe because I secretly wanted to believe I had someone back home who cared for me in the romantic sense, and if these kids believed it, maybe I could as well).
Through the questions being thrown at me from all over the class room, and with my very vague and weak replies, they came to the conclusion that I do indeed have a boyfriend, we've been dating for 2 years, I met him in the States, and he is wealthy enough to buy me an expensive silver and diamond ring (since I was wearing one at the time on my left ring finger) that did NOT come with a marriage proposal.
Since I mentioned earlier that day that day that I am a good teacher and don't beat my students, they're afraid now that when my 'boyfriend' comes to visit, he'll do the beating for me. Now if my students were horrible little brats, that wouldn't be such a bad idea, but these kids are a dream compared to some of the students I dealt with back home. Rest assured, the beating of children will not take place on my watch. But I guess my boyfriend is the strong, muscular type. :) I am totally okay with that.
"So why did he pick you?" One boy piped up in the midst of the questions. Ouch. Don't rain on my parade so soon. This man is barely in existence, don't take him away from me already. "What do you mean, why did he pick me?" "No, no, I didn't mean it like that!" He apologized after the class swelled with side comments. "I mean, why did he choose to date you out of all the women." "You're not making it sound any better, Bob. You're making it sound like there is no reason why a man would want to date me." "Ugh, I don't mean it like that either." He hid his face in his backpack on the desk. I knew what he meant and laughed, as poorly-worded as it was. "I don't know. I never asked him. Maybe you can ask him that question sometime." "Is he coming here?" Another boy asked. "I don't know." How should I know?? I don't even know who this guy is. "Maybe you should ask him to come. If you've been dating for two years, why won't he visit you?"
Yes, they really asked these questions.
But now my lovely little reporters are demanding pictures and a name. My other class also thought I had a boyfriend and that his name was "Ben" -- don't ask me where they came up with this. However, this class was not as interested in delving into my personal make-believe life. However, I am perfectly fine with having a boyfriend named Ben since I don't know any Ben's that would taint the name for me. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of this dream-boat.
*Note: names have been changed to protect the identity of my students and to ensure I won't get sued by the school or their parents.
