Line Up, Pleeease!!

I... am... happy!!! Yay!!!

Back at the language school, with less than two hours to go before my first interactions with the kiddies, I was informed by my boss that the shoelace-like substance in my bun was in fact, pork. My boss, to his credit, managed to stifle his laughter as he explained to the long term vegetarian that Thai people are not especially fond of plain things and often put meat in the center of the bun to add a little flavour. 

Craig, who was also in the office, listened to our conversation with a smirk on his face and kindly offered to take me out to dinner to P’roons. He knew the owners there and was sure they could cook me something delicious and pork free. Craig's  favor meant the world to me. Knowing where my next meal was coming from enabled me to ignore the gnawing ache of hunger that was eating away at my stomach's burnt-out remains, and focus on the lesson I was about to observe. I was thankful for the noise from the arriving students drifting up the stairs, because it just managed to override the hungry, looping growls from my stomach.

 We quickly headed downstairs to greet the students. There were 5 of us teaching at the language school, Craig, Ira, Bonnie, Jamie (fellow Canadian!) and I. I was supposed to be taking over my boss's class so he could focus more on management duties. 

We stepped out of the office and into the heat wave of the hallway. I knew I was only observing today, but I was still nervous to meet my future students. When I get nervous, I become a middle aged construction worker, I begin to sweat and fart uncontrollably. I also get sudden and undeniable urges to poo. I figure this is my body’s way of removing me from a situation that my brain has deemed too stressful. However, the spicy gruel of this morning’s breakfast thwarted my body's carefully constructed plan because I was pretty sure that I had already let go of everything that was (or had ever been) inside me. So, even when my brain tried to tell me I needed to poo, I could over ride this order, secure in the knowledge that my stomach’s contents had been effectively evacuated this morning.

We turned the corner in the staircase and there they were. About 40 students stopped dead from the games they were playing and stared up the stairwell. It took about 10 seconds before they erupted. They each began shouting their individual teacher’s name and gathered at the bottom of the stairs in a mob with hands outstretched. Ira was the first to dive into the fray. He received a group hug from about 5 students. Then he leaned back and face up at the ceiling he shouted “How are you?!”  A sing song chorus of students shouted back, “ I am happy!! Yay!!!” Then things settled down, as the majority of students resumed their games and began watching cartoons on T.V again.

 Two beautiful pre- teen girls approached me and shyly asked my name. “My name is Victoria.” “Ahhh,” they answered, “Wicdoria.” “What are your names?” I asked. “My name is Pim “ the young lady on the right answered. Then the on the left perked up and responded, “My name is Oum.” “Nice to meet you” I said. They chorused back at me “Nice to meet you too!” then they drifted off to the corner of the lobby, presumably to discuss if the new teacher had passed the test.

Just from looking around the lobby it was easy to tell that everyone has a distinctive teaching style. My boss and Jamie were the perfect mix of disciplinarian and clown. They goofed with the kids, playfully bopping the younger students on the bottom and picking them up and tossing them to the ceiling, while occasionally shouting at the older ones to stop roughhousing.

 Ira was just a goofball. He was engaged in a wrestling match with four of the students and I could see his smile beaming from under the doggy pile.  Craig was a mellow teacher, he was sitting on a bench with the older students watching T.V with them and sharing a snack that looked like long, yellow shoelaces. (I was getting concerned about this fascination with shoelaces and cuisine.) Bonnie was a comforting, motherly teacher. She sat down on the floor with the more relaxed little ones and I smiled as I saw one of them lean their head on her shoulder and the other put her hand on Bonnie’s knee. 

Just then, my new boss paused the television and bellowed “Line up, Please!” All the students rushed to the staircase and lined up in front of their respective teachers. Game on.

Dontcha put it in your mouth.......

Angels singing.....

                                      

Ring of fire. Seriously. My morning gaff of speaking too harshly with my new boss had resulted in me finishing my entire bowl of chili laced gruel as a form of apology. Now, 4 hours later, I was sitting in my heat box sauna of a bathroom alternately pooing fire water and being violated by the ass hose. It was an unpleasant way to start off my whole ‘try new things’ lifestyle.

( If new things result in fire poo, then new age folks can have them, pass the mayo and ketchup please.) 

As I sat on the toilet giving the ass hose the evil eye I realized that I would have to stay true to some of the old me. I was in this for the long haul (a YEAR at least!) and I must pace myself.  Staying strong and healthy was probably the best way to keep being able to try new things, so I decided to swear off spicy breakfast, and head to the 7-11 about a five minute walk away. My new boss had taken pity on me and told me that they had bread and banana muffins there, so I had decided to stock up.

It was hot. Not Canadian summer hot, where you are so grateful to wear a t-shirt that happiness seeps out of every pore, but Thailand hot where you are so scared to get caught in the sun, that you dash from shade spot to shade spot and sweat seeps out of every pore. The 7-11 was on the other side of the street (of course!) so I had to engage in the crossing the street warfare yet again. Luckily, I had been trained earlier that day. 

I waited for a gap in the traffic on my side of the road and bolted for the white divider line, and then I stood firmly as the cars whizzed by and I waited for another gap.  Once I had successfully reached the other side of the street I was filled with an enormous amount of pride because I had done it all alone. 

(When I was planning my trip overseas I had visions of myself mastering the Thai language, doing charity work, and generally taking Thailand by storm, but since ‘effective street crossing’ had been added to my list, I knew I would have to revise these goals.)

With the swoosh of an automatic door and a blast of air conditioning, I knew I had found heaven. The staff behind the counter greeted me with the standard, “Sawasdee Ka” and I floated toward the aisles. It seemed like a very normal 7-11. Sure, it was missing a few of the staples from back home, like nachos and good chocolate, and the chip flavors had been altered for the eastern palate, but it was like a climate controlled paradise. I grabbed a shopping basket and picked up the essentials like a new toothbrush and toilet paper, then I moved on to the fun stuff. Food shopping. 

My stomach had finally calmed down after my breakfast of spicy rice soup and I looked at the shelves of bread with a homesick longing. I carefully selected two non-offensive looking buns and placed them in my basket. I also grabbed a bottle of orange juice and some gum. I laughed again at the exotic chip flavors, ranging from Spicy Dried Squid to Nori Seaweed, and then headed for the cashier. It was such a relief to know that the prices were pre-set and I would not have to do any of the haggling that the east is so famous for.

The check out went fine. The price was clearly marked on the monitor and I merely had to hand over my money and receive my change. I managed to say thank you in Thai and received a beaming smile from the cashier.  This was the first task that I felt I had successfully conquered. I stepped back out onto the street so full of confidence and happiness that I didn’t even mind the sun. The glare suddenly seemed perfect because I felt so much brighter on the inside. 

I set off to meet my new boss at the language school, about a 10 minute walk away, and reached into my bag to pull out the glorious bun. I first took a few big chugs of orange juice and then I opened the bun from its plastic packaging and took a small, savory bite. It was a little on the sweet side, but it was heavenly bland.

 I took another big bite and felt something dry, stringy and furry in my mouth. Without caring about the other pedestrians watching the sweaty farang on her walk, I spit the furry bit out into my hand. It looked exactly as it had tasted; like dry, furry, thin, brown shoelaces. Damn it. I tossed the barely eaten bun back into my bag and heading toward the language school, no longer prancing in the sunshine, but instead darting again from shadow to shadow.

Dontcha put it in your mouth....
Dontcha stuff it in your face....
'Till you ask someone you love
If it's okay to taste.

                                    

Sweat Stained Young Professional

                                          

                                                           360 degree sweat!

  

            My connecting flight from Bangkok to the relatively small town of Surat Thani in Southern Thailand, took a little over an hour. I was looking haggard. My new boss was picking me up from the airport and I had hoped to present myself as an eager young professional; fresh, clean and ready for this new adventure. I had imagined myself tucking my hair shyly being my ear and then flashing a bright smile as I chirped my thanks for being given this wonderful opportunity. In reality, I was exhausted. 

           I had spent the night in the Bangkok airport because I was much too apprehensive to think about venturing away from the relative comfort of such a cookie cutter facility. This caused me a small amount of shame because I felt I was already tip toeing away from the ‘full’ experience. (The 'full' experience being what 'travellers' and not tourists do. Or so I had read.) I soothed myself with the knowledge that it was only the first day. As I stepped out of the plane and onto the rickety steps leading down to the Surat runway, the full blast of midday heat bitch-slapped me in the face. I began to regret that I was facing this day on only a few stolen hours of sleep.

Had I ventured farther outside the airport doors at Suvanamaboomerang and realized the extent of the brutal, relentless heat that is an everyday companion to Thai life, I would have taken a minute to gaze fondly at my frozen drool. I had chosen to complain, rather than cherish, the frozen tundra of Survanamaboom and now I was trudging across the heat blanketed tarmac of Surat Thani airport. Within the three minutes it took to walk to the terminal I was dripping sweat. Literally dripping. I had experienced the literary phenomenon of dripping sweat before, notably after hour long soccer matches in the middle of summer, but never in my life had a 3 minute walk ended with salty tendrils of sweat rippling down my back. I did a discrete visual of my armpits only to be greeted by an unpleasant waft of ‘eau de three day travel’ and  large coffee mug sized rings of damp material.  I was not excited to be meeting the new boss man in such a state of unhygienic disarray but I forged on, two hands grabbed my man-sized backpack off the turnstile (which I am sure caused a few more salty droplets) and headed toward the pick-up area.

When questioned over the phone about how I would recognize him, my boss had replied with humor ‘Oh, don’t worry I will be the only six foot, bald, white guy.” Sounded easy enough, but I was still a little worried that perhaps we would miss each other and I would be stranded in a small city in Thailand with no idea of where to go or how to get there. I should not have worried. As I passed through the smoked glass door into the waiting area I looked up and spotted him immediately.

 He was not the only six foot bald white guy but he was, in fact, the only white guy. I walked toward him with my man-sized backpack teetering precariously. I smiled, a large sense of relief washing over me, then I realized that something else was washing over me as well. Sweat was now dripping directly into my eyes, courtesy of the extra effort required to carry my gargantuan back pack. Just as I reached up and palmed the sweat off of my forehead my new boss thrust out his hand in greeting.  Reaching out to shake his hand I quickly realized that the slime of sweat that now coated my hand might not be an appreciated exchange of fluids. I quickly wiped my hand on my jeans creating a perfect hand sized imprint of damp material. I looked up, faced flushed with heat and embarrassment, as my new boss man smiled knowingly and said ‘Welcome to Thailand.’

They call it International, but it only flies to Bangkok.
First taste that not everything in Thailand is what it seems...

The sun that is causing those shadows is not the same
sun that  I knew from Saskatoon.  This sun is stranger.