Rambling
Hi Everybody! I'm so sorry I've been so bad about keeping in touch. I decided I've been taking the wrong tack with these blog postings. I never seem to mind writing emails or letters, but somehow writing a blog entry has taken on the trappings of a homework assignment that I keep putting off. Back in school I was always one of those students who would procrastinate until the last minute when I had a paper due. Blogging never has that due date that forces me to finally sit down and pound it out, but I always seem to feel like I need to organize my thoughts and choose my wording carefully and such (like writing an essay or something), so I keep stalling. This time I've decided to take a different approach. It's been way too long since I've written, and I have so much to share that it seems a little daunting if I think of it like an essay, so I'm just going to ramble on with all my news and you'll all just have to bear with me.
I'm had two vacations since the last time I wrote. In February we got a week off for Chinese New year, and this month we had a week off for Songkran, which is the Thai New Year.
I started off my February break by spending a weekend in the country with my assistant and her family. In so many ways it reminded me of my Boston days when we'd get out of the city and head to Vermont for the weekend, and yet still so very different (a popular t-shirt phrase around here is, "same same, but different.") My assistant, Rung, and her husband both work at international schools here in Bangkok. They stay with his dad in the city during the week, but each weekend they go home to Khao Yai, a small town about two hours outside the city, where Rung's mom looks after their two little girls, Don Hom and Bai Mon, ages 3 and 5.
It was a long weekend, so we set out straight from school Thursday afternoon and arrived in Khao Yai about supper time. As we pulled into town we stopped by the night market to pick up some dinner before heading to the house. It was much like many of the other little street markets that pop up in the evenings around here, but this was the first time I'd visited one with a local. Some of you who know me well probably know that I'm not the most adventuresome eater. This weekend turned out to be a growing experience for my tastebuds. Having Rung along meant I had someone to ask about the mysterious new foods that surrounded me, so I found myself able to try new things that I probably would have shied away from if it wasn't for Rung's assistance in identifying just what they were. And boy did I discover some tasty new favorites! Besides the new foods in the market, I also got an education in Thai fruits. Rung's family's land is like an orchard -- they grow their own bananas, guava, dragon fruit, durian, rose apples, custard apples, jackfruit, and a whole bunch of others as well. One morning her dad took me on a tour of the grounds to show me all the different kinds of trees.
Another something I learned on this trip was that Thailand does indeed have trees that lose their leaves, not just palm trees and banana trees and such. The mountain behind Rung's house was covered with disiduous trees which had lost their leaves. As I looked up this rocky slope with it's bare branches, it looked like a winter landscape in New England. Even though the sun was shining, I kept thinking that it looked like it ought to be cold outside -- it looked like one of those winter days in the States when the sun is shining, but it's still crisp and cold. Only here it was hot -- it looked like winter but felt like summer. It did get cooler there than here in the city, but only in the mornings -- like those summer mornings when you wake up and it's cool but you know it's going to be hotter later in the day.
Rung and her family were excellent tour guides, sharing with me their personal corner of Thailand. The took me to see one of their revered sights, where there's a giant white Buddah image set on a mountainside overlooking the valley below. We climbed over 600 steps up to the top, and were able to see for miles. We spent an afternoon picnicking at a quiet waterfall, cooling off in the clear water. And we spent most of a day touring through Khao Yai National Park, which Frommer's guidebook describes as the best of natural Thailand. This was another one of those places where the "same same, but different" phenomenon seemed to kick in. In many respects it was like other National parks I've been to: main roads that you drive through, with scenic lookout spots labeled for stopping, hiking options where you can park for a while and explore long or short walks away from the main road to see more scenic areas, signs telling you about wildlife you may see, campgrounds and picnic spots, ranger stations with information and exhibits, etc. And yet, none of the National parks at home have monkeys running around or elephant footprints along the paths. The trees were different. The birds were different. I never actually saw a gibbon, but I heard a bunch of them singing in the treetops. At home you just see signs for deer crossing. Here the signs warned about cobra crossings and tiger territory. Same same, but different.
In between seeing the local sights, I got to just hang out with Rung's family. Being the first time I was really in a Thai household, I realized how in Bangkok, there's so much of a community of Westerners that I'm not often forced to develop my Thai language skills because there's usually someone around who speaks English, and most of my socializing tends to be with other teachers from school. Rung and her husband were of course happy to translate as necessary, and I could visit easily with them, but communicating with her daughters and mother gave me the chance to stretch my language skills. I learned some new phrases, like "dee mak" -- very good-- and "im lao" -- I'm full -- and the little girls turned out to be great tutors helping me practice my alphabet and numbers and colors in Thai. One of the great things about little children is that they don't necessarily need so many words to just play. Rock, paper, scissors transfers across language barriers, as does laughter and smiles and tickles.
Rung got to stay home for the rest of the week, but Piage, her husband, had already had his vacation the previous week, so Sunday night I rode back to Bangkok with him. He had to go to work the next day, and I had to do laundry and re-pack for the second half of my vacation -- a tropical island get-away on Koh Tao, in the Gulg of Thailand.
Koh Tao had come highly recommended by my friend Leslie's daughter, Natalie, who after our Christmas travels, had continued without us down for scuba lessons. This was my first adventure on a night train, a common mode of transportation around these parts, but one of those things that have become a thing of the past in the States. Technically, I think it is still possible to get a sleeping berth on Amtrak, but as I recall they were so expensive you might as well just fly. When I got on board, about 7 pm, down each side of my car was lined with sets of two seats, facing each other. Someone came and took my dinner order, and when dinner was served, he set up a little temporary table between the two facing seats. After dinner they took away the little table, asked us to stand for a moment, while the two facing seats were collapsed to become a sleeping cot, and a second cot folded down from above. When each cot was made up with sheets and pillow, and a little curtain hung so we could close out the rest of the passengers, we were invited to make ourselves comfortable again. It was like something out of an old movie. The only difficult part was that I had to disembark at about 3:30 in the morning. After the train I was shuffled via two different buses to the ferry dock for the three-hour trip to the island.
Landing on Koh Tao was one of those "I'm not in Kansas anymore" moments. This was the first time I'd travelled on my own since coming to Asia. Though I've travelled alone many times in the States, there's definitely something different about being on your own in such unfamiliar surroundings, where you don't really speak much of the language. At the end of the gang plank I was able to spot a guy with a sign and a t-shirt that identified him as belonging to the dive school I had booked with. He didn't seem to be looking for me -- he was apparently there to pick up a couple of Japanese gals who would be staying at the same place, but I just followed them and attached myself to the group as they wound through the narrow streets of town. Eventually we loaded ourselves into a "taxi," which on the island amounts to a pick-up truck in which passengers ride in the open bed, for our trip to Big Blue Diving School. Koh Tao is known for it's scuba diving, and my plan was to take the beginning diving course. Because it's so well-known as a diving destination, the resort was full of folks from all over the world there for the same reason. There were folks there from Holland, Germany, Japan, Ireland, America, and I don't know where else. As it turned out, I never did get to complete my scuba certification. I had just enough of a cold that I wasn't really sick, but my sinuses wouldn't equalize, and anytime I got deeper than about 3 meters they started screaming at me. Still, I loved the shallow water training that I got to join in, and spent the rest of my time enjoying the beach, reading in the hamock outside my bungalow, going snorkeling, and exploring with the other American who also had to drop out of the course after shallow water training because she had ear issues. There is something absolutely magical about the underwater world, but I can't say I was terribly disappointed not to continue. The course I was in was designed to speed one through the certification hoops as quickly as possible, and I think I have a slower learning curve. They were moving faster than my comfort level, and thanks to my sinuses, I wasn't forced to wimp out -- I had a legitimate reason to say I'd had enough. Someday I may continue. Then again, I may just stick to snorkeling and resort dives where you have an insructor to hold your hand.
There was one thing that bothered me about my Koh Tao experience. As I walked along the beach, lined with restaurants and guest houses and hotels, etc. and looked at all the other folks enjoying the beauty of this tropical get-away, I realized that, as much as it was an international crossroads, it was definitely a Western crossroads. It dawned on me that the only folks I saw on the beach were Westerners. The only local folks I saw were those who were catering to the comfort of the Western tourists in the restaurants and guesthouses and other services. That bothered me. There was something wrong with this picture.
Anyway, Koh Tao and Khao Yai were my adventures over Chinese New Year, and I promised that I would get them blogged before I went on my next adventure, but I've never been very good at keeping promises to myself. So now I've got a whole other vacation to tell you about. If you feel like you've been reading long enough, this might be a good intermission. Come to think about it, maybe I'll just go ahead and publish this chapter and start fresh for Thai New Year.
I'm had two vacations since the last time I wrote. In February we got a week off for Chinese New year, and this month we had a week off for Songkran, which is the Thai New Year.
I started off my February break by spending a weekend in the country with my assistant and her family. In so many ways it reminded me of my Boston days when we'd get out of the city and head to Vermont for the weekend, and yet still so very different (a popular t-shirt phrase around here is, "same same, but different.") My assistant, Rung, and her husband both work at international schools here in Bangkok. They stay with his dad in the city during the week, but each weekend they go home to Khao Yai, a small town about two hours outside the city, where Rung's mom looks after their two little girls, Don Hom and Bai Mon, ages 3 and 5.
It was a long weekend, so we set out straight from school Thursday afternoon and arrived in Khao Yai about supper time. As we pulled into town we stopped by the night market to pick up some dinner before heading to the house. It was much like many of the other little street markets that pop up in the evenings around here, but this was the first time I'd visited one with a local. Some of you who know me well probably know that I'm not the most adventuresome eater. This weekend turned out to be a growing experience for my tastebuds. Having Rung along meant I had someone to ask about the mysterious new foods that surrounded me, so I found myself able to try new things that I probably would have shied away from if it wasn't for Rung's assistance in identifying just what they were. And boy did I discover some tasty new favorites! Besides the new foods in the market, I also got an education in Thai fruits. Rung's family's land is like an orchard -- they grow their own bananas, guava, dragon fruit, durian, rose apples, custard apples, jackfruit, and a whole bunch of others as well. One morning her dad took me on a tour of the grounds to show me all the different kinds of trees.
Another something I learned on this trip was that Thailand does indeed have trees that lose their leaves, not just palm trees and banana trees and such. The mountain behind Rung's house was covered with disiduous trees which had lost their leaves. As I looked up this rocky slope with it's bare branches, it looked like a winter landscape in New England. Even though the sun was shining, I kept thinking that it looked like it ought to be cold outside -- it looked like one of those winter days in the States when the sun is shining, but it's still crisp and cold. Only here it was hot -- it looked like winter but felt like summer. It did get cooler there than here in the city, but only in the mornings -- like those summer mornings when you wake up and it's cool but you know it's going to be hotter later in the day.
Rung and her family were excellent tour guides, sharing with me their personal corner of Thailand. The took me to see one of their revered sights, where there's a giant white Buddah image set on a mountainside overlooking the valley below. We climbed over 600 steps up to the top, and were able to see for miles. We spent an afternoon picnicking at a quiet waterfall, cooling off in the clear water. And we spent most of a day touring through Khao Yai National Park, which Frommer's guidebook describes as the best of natural Thailand. This was another one of those places where the "same same, but different" phenomenon seemed to kick in. In many respects it was like other National parks I've been to: main roads that you drive through, with scenic lookout spots labeled for stopping, hiking options where you can park for a while and explore long or short walks away from the main road to see more scenic areas, signs telling you about wildlife you may see, campgrounds and picnic spots, ranger stations with information and exhibits, etc. And yet, none of the National parks at home have monkeys running around or elephant footprints along the paths. The trees were different. The birds were different. I never actually saw a gibbon, but I heard a bunch of them singing in the treetops. At home you just see signs for deer crossing. Here the signs warned about cobra crossings and tiger territory. Same same, but different.
In between seeing the local sights, I got to just hang out with Rung's family. Being the first time I was really in a Thai household, I realized how in Bangkok, there's so much of a community of Westerners that I'm not often forced to develop my Thai language skills because there's usually someone around who speaks English, and most of my socializing tends to be with other teachers from school. Rung and her husband were of course happy to translate as necessary, and I could visit easily with them, but communicating with her daughters and mother gave me the chance to stretch my language skills. I learned some new phrases, like "dee mak" -- very good-- and "im lao" -- I'm full -- and the little girls turned out to be great tutors helping me practice my alphabet and numbers and colors in Thai. One of the great things about little children is that they don't necessarily need so many words to just play. Rock, paper, scissors transfers across language barriers, as does laughter and smiles and tickles.
Rung got to stay home for the rest of the week, but Piage, her husband, had already had his vacation the previous week, so Sunday night I rode back to Bangkok with him. He had to go to work the next day, and I had to do laundry and re-pack for the second half of my vacation -- a tropical island get-away on Koh Tao, in the Gulg of Thailand.
Koh Tao had come highly recommended by my friend Leslie's daughter, Natalie, who after our Christmas travels, had continued without us down for scuba lessons. This was my first adventure on a night train, a common mode of transportation around these parts, but one of those things that have become a thing of the past in the States. Technically, I think it is still possible to get a sleeping berth on Amtrak, but as I recall they were so expensive you might as well just fly. When I got on board, about 7 pm, down each side of my car was lined with sets of two seats, facing each other. Someone came and took my dinner order, and when dinner was served, he set up a little temporary table between the two facing seats. After dinner they took away the little table, asked us to stand for a moment, while the two facing seats were collapsed to become a sleeping cot, and a second cot folded down from above. When each cot was made up with sheets and pillow, and a little curtain hung so we could close out the rest of the passengers, we were invited to make ourselves comfortable again. It was like something out of an old movie. The only difficult part was that I had to disembark at about 3:30 in the morning. After the train I was shuffled via two different buses to the ferry dock for the three-hour trip to the island.
Landing on Koh Tao was one of those "I'm not in Kansas anymore" moments. This was the first time I'd travelled on my own since coming to Asia. Though I've travelled alone many times in the States, there's definitely something different about being on your own in such unfamiliar surroundings, where you don't really speak much of the language. At the end of the gang plank I was able to spot a guy with a sign and a t-shirt that identified him as belonging to the dive school I had booked with. He didn't seem to be looking for me -- he was apparently there to pick up a couple of Japanese gals who would be staying at the same place, but I just followed them and attached myself to the group as they wound through the narrow streets of town. Eventually we loaded ourselves into a "taxi," which on the island amounts to a pick-up truck in which passengers ride in the open bed, for our trip to Big Blue Diving School. Koh Tao is known for it's scuba diving, and my plan was to take the beginning diving course. Because it's so well-known as a diving destination, the resort was full of folks from all over the world there for the same reason. There were folks there from Holland, Germany, Japan, Ireland, America, and I don't know where else. As it turned out, I never did get to complete my scuba certification. I had just enough of a cold that I wasn't really sick, but my sinuses wouldn't equalize, and anytime I got deeper than about 3 meters they started screaming at me. Still, I loved the shallow water training that I got to join in, and spent the rest of my time enjoying the beach, reading in the hamock outside my bungalow, going snorkeling, and exploring with the other American who also had to drop out of the course after shallow water training because she had ear issues. There is something absolutely magical about the underwater world, but I can't say I was terribly disappointed not to continue. The course I was in was designed to speed one through the certification hoops as quickly as possible, and I think I have a slower learning curve. They were moving faster than my comfort level, and thanks to my sinuses, I wasn't forced to wimp out -- I had a legitimate reason to say I'd had enough. Someday I may continue. Then again, I may just stick to snorkeling and resort dives where you have an insructor to hold your hand.
There was one thing that bothered me about my Koh Tao experience. As I walked along the beach, lined with restaurants and guest houses and hotels, etc. and looked at all the other folks enjoying the beauty of this tropical get-away, I realized that, as much as it was an international crossroads, it was definitely a Western crossroads. It dawned on me that the only folks I saw on the beach were Westerners. The only local folks I saw were those who were catering to the comfort of the Western tourists in the restaurants and guesthouses and other services. That bothered me. There was something wrong with this picture.
Anyway, Koh Tao and Khao Yai were my adventures over Chinese New Year, and I promised that I would get them blogged before I went on my next adventure, but I've never been very good at keeping promises to myself. So now I've got a whole other vacation to tell you about. If you feel like you've been reading long enough, this might be a good intermission. Come to think about it, maybe I'll just go ahead and publish this chapter and start fresh for Thai New Year.
posted by Courtney | 10:39 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home