A Whole New World

After six months of twiddling my thumbs, contemplating the blue tile that covers every inch of my house (except of course my once white bathroom), reading an entire library full of books, and wasting hours on end coming up with things to Google, I have finally found more productive ways to spend my time. Or, maybe it’s just that the people around me have figured out how to put me to work . . . regardless, it’s heaven!!!

I’m actually teaching – and I mean really teaching. I spend Monday and Thursday mornings at the high school down the street from my house, until it’s time to walk home, grab lunch, exchange my skirt for more bike appropriate attire, and ride to the elementary school about three miles away. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are spent in much the same fashion, only I spend the mornings at the elementary school and the afternoons at the high school. There has been time set aside to lesson plan and both of my counterparts have suddenly come to terms with how important I think this is and so sit down and humor me for about an hour each week. It’s marvelous!!!! I walk into class everyday and we essentially know what we are going to teach, how we are going to teach it, and what we need to get the job done. I’m 100% positive my co-teachers have yet to be convinced of the great service we are not only doing each other, but our students, by being prepared – and really as far as I’m concerned, I don’t care if they spend the next year and four months pretending to think this is a grand and novel idea as long as it keeps happening.

Again, I have no idea what caused such drastic changes, but something in the water must have made these women see the light, because all of the sudden I am not only seen as a good resource in terms of pronunciation practice and curriculum development, but I nearly have full control over the classes. Tuke, my counterpart at the elementary school, acts like a student; she participates in all the activities, completes all of the assignments, and takes copious notes while I teach her 9, 10, and 11 year olds. When I really get stuck and just need a direct translation she jumps in and throws the kids (and me) a bone, but aside from a few comments here and there she sits back and lets me do my thing. Teaching English as a Foreign Language is far more different that I ever could have imagined. I thought coming here that I had this thing in the bag – I mean I spent the last 5 years of my life completely consumed with learning, discussing, practicing, and contemplating this whole teaching thing. Apparently it kind of makes a difference when your students can actually understand a single freaking word that comes out of your mouth. So, I go in everyday and I wing it; I do more acting, dancing, singing, and drawing than I do true teaching and usually the point I am trying to make is completely lost to them, but they are laughing, and singing, and dancing, and drawing right along with me . . . sometimes I figure it’s enough to just have some fun and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

My degree is in Secondary English Education and I fully intend to return to the states and set up camp in a high school setting somewhere. However, here, in this context, I love the little kids; they are excited to learn and eager to please. Mostly they are still young enough to think that EVERYTHING I do is super cool, so they are absolutely easy to entertain and enthusiastic about even the lamest of lame ideas I come up with. There are days when I have to do nothing but drill and kill to get them to really understand and become familiar with the vocabulary. All I have to do is say the words at different speeds, yell them, whisper them, stutter them, draw them out as long as I can, or leave parts of them out completely and they are in utter rapture for an entire hour of learning a simple 10 words. It is amazing.

They are adorable, they are completely amusing, and they are a blast. We play lots of games, create bushels of art projects, invent noises and actions to represent all sorts of words and sets of instructions, and somewhere in the midst of all the silliness I think we are learning from each other. I can tell them to open up their notebooks and copy the writing on the board accompanied by pictures of the vocabulary and they immediately know what I am requesting. I am able to tell them how many minutes they have to complete an assignment and they all hold up the right amount of fingers. They are even to the point that they tell me when they need more time or are confused . . . this is unheard of in a Thai classroom, where questions come across as a personal assault to the teacher. And for my part I know when they are truly lost and don’t know how to begin asking for help, I can tell when they are bored and need something new to keep their attention, and I’m getting really good at understanding when they translate my instructions into Thai so I can correct them when they are going astray.

It was such a welcome surprise to realize how little the cement walls of my hut were giving back in our isolated little relationship. I am getting out of my house, seeing people, getting to know my community, and building real relationships with my students. It reminds me a little bit of training, when I was welcomed by a parade of people on my way home each day, as I ride my bike up to the elementary school – in a matter of seconds I am surrounded by waving, shouting, groping little kids saying hello to Kru Happy (English Translation: Teacher Abby) and equipped with a bottle of cold water. I recognize and am recognized by people on my way to and from and have come to expect smiles, hellos, and waves from vendors and community members along my path. It’s starting to feel like home.

The actual act of teaching in the high school is far more challenging and a lot less entertaining. There is a group of students who have really dedicated themselves to learning the language and so participate in the lessons without coercion. Then there is a chunk of students who could simply not care less and do not see the relevance in learning English – these students tend to be boys and they are largely favored for it. And finally there is the extremely high volume of students with learning disabilities that simply get over looked, because “they can’t learn anyway.” Talk about a melting pot – only the ingredients don’t really complement one another and while the cheese melts up all nice and creamy it quickly begins to curdle as the other elements are added. Girls here are taught from a very young age (like birth) that they will never be as good as boys and so should spend their lives taking care of men and doing whatever is necessary to land one. This is in no way conducive to a productive learning environment. The girls study hard and most of them are way ahead of the game, so they finish their work and then move on to finish that of the boy sitting three rows back. This drives me crazy!! I wander around helping the large handful of students who are so far behind and struggle so severely that they have given up right along with their instructors and as I do I keep my eyes out for cheating and copying. I actually took a boy’s work away from a girl, drew a big X through it and handed it back to him to do on his own; three minutes later the kid next to him was doing it, so I repeated the process and told him to start over; I sat and watched him work on it for a few minutes and moved on. When I returned to check on him, he was doing the work, but was copying off of a friend, so another X was scratched across the page and he finally got serious and did it himself the fourth time. This isn’t a rare happening and I have made it my charge to see that it stops, even if just in my classroom. I am making a name for myself, they call me Teacher Mai Copy (mai means no), and they’re all a lot more edgy than when I first started working with them.

The diversity in ability levels and interest in the language makes the older kids less fun. They are also at an age when they aren’t easy to entertain and they certainly do not think I am a super hero; in fact, I have to work extremely hard for my “cool” points with them. But, I have found ways to start weaving myself into the fabric of their lives and the more of this I do the better response I get in class. Who would have ever thought . . . if you take the time to get to know someone they actually learn to trust and respect you. In this vein I have started stopping by after school on occasion and playing volleyball with some of the girls, I shop at places I know my student’s parents own, and I show up for all of the extra activities that happen when I’m not at the other school. It’s a different dynamic and a lot more work, but equally rewarding.

So, between biking like crazy, lesson planning, material making, teaching, playing volleyball and stalking students, planning teacher trainings, and getting ready for English camps my idle time has been significantly cut into and I couldn’t be more thankful for it.

I came here to teach, that shouldn’t be news to anyone. It was driving me crazy to sit around and watch someone else flounder when I could do a perfect breast stroke. But, getting more involved in the classroom has also been eye opening in terms of how much I was missing out on by not getting out of my house more often. My students and counterparts lit a fire under me and now I’m running around like a crazy person never saying no to anyone. I went to a vineyard and mountain temple with one of my counterparts; I accepted an invitation from my principal to join a group of teachers and principals for a night out on the town; I have even started going to aerobics again. All things I have been missing out on while I sat around feeling lonely and sorry for myself. Self pity is an ugly thing and being a hermit didn’t do me any good. This whole time, all I had to do was put the book down and go for a walk . . . something that shouldn’t have been all that hard for a person with two working legs. There was a whole village of people just waiting for me to outgrow my shell and come looking for a new one . . . I’m glad I did.

                                     

My counterpart and I spent an afternoon touring a vineyard and climbed hundreds of steps up to a beautiful temple on a mountain just outside Ban Chang. Then the very next night I joined the group previously mentioned for dinner and a show. This wasn’t quite the success that the last field trip was, but it makes for a good story. We went to a tourist town about thirty minutes down the road and had dinner by the sea. I ate about twice my body weight in food and thought I was going to explode, when someone looked around a came to the astonishing realization that there was nothing but Thai food, on this Thai table, in this Thai restaurant, in Thailand. They demanded that I be made a tuna salad. I couldn’t bear the thought of another single morsel of food reaching my palate, but there was no stopping her, she was on a mission. So, I unbuttoned the top button on my jeans, took a deep breath, downed the thing and we were off to the show. Thais have kind of warped idea of what it means to be entertained and they took me to a cabaret show. I sat through about forty-five minutes of the transvestites with great boobs and hardly anything on dancing around and lip sinking to really bad remakes, when it hit me. Now, whether it was the food that got to me or the strip tease taking place in front of my eyes is still up for debate, but regardless something offended my insides and I was sure to be sick. I got up and rushed to the bathroom and let exit all the food that forcefully entered my gut. I missed the last few minutes of the show (darn) and met up with everyone at the car, where I informed them of my illness. We headed for home, but were forced to stop six more times in my honor . . . it was awful, but I don’t think I’ll have to go to another cabaret show and they’ll probably think twice before packing me plum full of tuna again.

Oh, and did I mention aerobics????? Well it is the single most hilarious thing I have ever taken part in and I’m pretty sure that lying in bed watching movies causes me to break more of a sweat. I was given the option of two different home stay families when I moved here, neither of which actually had room for me to live with them, but both take good care of me. Pi Laan, is one of them and she does aerobics at the health station behind my house. This week she decided that it was silly that I wasn’t going and so started to come over and get me before hand. This is something I would have previously declined, but saying no doesn’t go with my new attempts at happiness and integration, so I put on my tennis and went. What I found was a bunch of middle aged and old women hoolahooping their hips off. I was dumb struck. When I asked about it, they all claimed that is was the best exercise they had ever done and got me all hooked up with equipment of my own. We hoolahooped around for about 15 minutes and then the actual class started. The class consists of 10 minutes of stretching, 15 minutes of aerobic dancing, which is more of a wiggle and shake here and there, and then 15 minutes of “ab” exercise (otherwise known as lying on your back and chatting with your neighbor), and finally after all that exertion we stretch again, because cooling down is of the utmost importance. I went every night all week and found that it actually was a good stomach workout . . . well, the sitting around yapping isn’t, but dying of laughter does wonders to tone the midsection. It’s really just one more way to get to know people and become familiar to the people who have surrounded me for months.

I joined the Peace Corps to fulfill a lifelong dream, to teach, and to become a better me. I am having to stare down my demons, my insecurities, and my fears and every time I overcome one I know that I am here doing the right thing for the right reasons and that I am going to come home really knowing myself. It took me six months, but I shed a layer of myself that was holding me back and for the first time since moving here I feel free.

Roy Kratong

Today was the first day of the new term and I packed it full of expectations. My schedule has been adjusted in such a way that it allows me to attend both schools for half a day, each day, instead of alternating them every other day. There was also time set aside specifically for planning and preparing with my counterparts before attempting to instruct as a team. I have been excitedly awaiting these changes and anticipating the great difference they were created to make in my efforts here . . . I may have jumped the gun a little.

I got up this morning, walked across the street to school and the day started out like all the others of the past. It was disheartening to once again be relegated to master pronouncer of difficult words; however, I was determined to make this term different, so I walked around the class, made small comments, and inserted myself when ever and where ever possible. It wasn't what I was hoping for, but it was something. As the students filed out of the classroom for lunch, I packed up my belongings, said my "see you tomorrows" and headed for home, where a quick change of clothes, a bite to eat, and a bike ride to school number two were awaiting me. It was then that I got the call.



My second school decided that it would be best if I started tomorrow instead of today for seemingly no reason at all. This follows perfectly the pattern that emerged last term. I would get ready to go and would get a call canceling on me for the day, the week, or the month until I stopped going at all. This was a big blow to all my glorious plans, but nothing very surprising.



So, I threw my hands in the air and thought to myself - "at least I still have a shelf full of good books to read." And with that I sat down and once again lost myself to literature. But it wasn't long until I received yet another phone call.

Today is Roy Kratong day, which is a National Thai holiday, created by a queen who decided that during November's full moon there needed to be a celebration of the river. Each year for two days Thai people take the opportunity to thank the rivers for continuing to flow in order to nourish the land and quench the nation's thirst. The festivities are hosted at temples all around the country, which meant that the temple connected to my school would be in the midst of the celebrating. My principal suggested that he would like me to attend and that he would be looking for me all night. Later in the day Tip called, ripping me from my novel induced trance, and said that she would come over sometime this evening and take me with her.

I was looking forward to engaging in a Thai tradition that I have yet to experience and was excited at the prospect of getting out of the house and doing something fun and interactive. So, I got all ready for an evening of fun and fascination and then sat and waited, and waited, and waited, and, that's right, waited some more. It got to be close to 8:00 in the evening and there was still no sign of my Roy Kratong companion. It was all getting to be a little too much to take. First I have my hopes slightly reduced by the morning's less then successful attempts at team teaching, then they are crushed by the lack of any attempt made at all in the afternoon, and finally I sat patiently listening to the fireworks and laughter that wafted through my windows on a cloud of Thai scented delicacies that were certainly out in full force just seconds away. I was about to give up and go on my own, when a truck pulled up in front of my house and the night quickly took a turn for the better.

Tip brought Aum, which is always an extreme pleasure, and Tu (a woman who lives with and helps Tip out) came along as well. As we walked to the temple the streets were lined with neon lights that turned the atmosphere into something resembling a carnival or the county fair. As we approached the temple I came face to face with all the food that had been saturating my home with mouth watering temptation and every single student I see throughout the day. There were hundreds of people there, buying balloons, eating like the rich and the famous (except that is was all fried, served from a cart, and was usually made of an unidentifiable substance), singing songs, making offerings to the monks, having fashion shows, and releasing flowers of gratitude into the water. I participated in the eating, making offerings to the monks, and gave thanks to the H2O.

Flowers and banana leaves are stock piled for weeks before this holiday begins in order to make little boats to float down the river. I chose a vessel made of colored ice-cream cone pieces because I liked the idea that they were made for the fish to feast upon. Aum, Tip, and I went down to the water, while Tu took a barrage of pictures, and said our prayers before sending the sweet creations to float. Each boat is equipped with incense and a candle that are lit before they enter the water, so as you stand watching yours fade way you see it merge with the hundreds of others following the same path. It is beautiful.

I needed to feel a part of my community; I needed to feel part of a family; I needed to see Thai people taking part in something they deem truly important and meaningful. After a long and frustrating day, it felt so refreshing to stand with Aum's little hand in mine, Tip at my side, and fireworks in the sky. Everyone was at their best and it was rejuvenating to be a part of it all. There are times when a Thai schedule and lack of work ethic really start to drag me down, but then nights like tonight happen and I realize that no matter how irritated I get with the lack of productivity, I am still surrounded by genuinely good people who have taken me in and deserve more credit than I tend do give.

Happy Roy Kratong Day.

A Whole Lot of Catching Up!!!

English Camp . . .

About a month ago I became completely fed up with my lack of productivity. I love to read, if there is a person in this world who can sit and become completely absorbed in literature, it is me - but there has to be something more to joining the Peace Corps than watching the tally on my "goodreads" page continue to climb. So, sick of sitting around watching the minutes and hours on the clock pass by, I decided to put my schools on the back burner for a bit and see if anyone else near me was looking for help. I made fliers in English and Thai that explained that there was an English speaking volunteer in the area that would be willing to put on Teacher Trainings and English Camps if anyone was interested. Within the week I had 3 English Camps scheduled. These are not my favorite things to do, because they usually end up feeling more like a day of babysitting than learning, but I was up for anything at this point and so went for it.

Unlike the United States, Thailand does not have a Christmas, Thanksgiving, or spring break built into the school year; they do, however, take the month of October off between the first and second terms. It was due to this vacation time that I have only put on one of the three camps thus far. And here is how it went.

Usually I would be expected to create the schedule, provide the teachers, make the materials, plan for catering, and lead the big group activities. On this particular occasion, the camp was already planned and ready to go, but the school thought it would be a beneficial addition to have a native speaker of the language and so invited me to participate without having to do any of the planning. I gladly accepted the offer and was picked up early one Thursday morning and taken to meet the campers. Like most English Camps, this started out with a big group energizer, speeches given by the principals that go on way too long, acknowledgment of the Buddha, another big group activity, and then dividing the students into groups. A Thai teacher, with minimal English skills generally MCs the large group activities, engaging the kids in grammatically incorrect songs, nonsensical games, and then gibbers on in Thai for about 30 minutes of the "English" camp. This experience was much the same.

Once the campers were put into their respective groups they were sent off for a day full of fun and learning. I was assigned Food and Drinks for a topic and was expected to have the students fluent in all things edible within an hour. So, instead I got out flash cards, made sure they knew the names of each culinary item, and then we had vocabulary relay races. We colored pictures, made menus of our favorite foods, and then ended the session by pretending we were at a restaurant ordering tasty treats. They seemed to enjoy themselves and were all excited to participate in the "Farang's" (foreigner's) activities.

While, I felt like this was a fairly successful camp and was impressed by the efficient nature in which is was being run, there was something missing . . . something I was soon to discover, to the dismay of the eleven principals, and eight-teen teachers in attendance.

You see, as efficiently as this particular English Day was being executed, the individuals in charge were still Thai and so have a very warped notion of time. I was unable to eat a single dish being served for lunch, as it was all heaped with peppers and the smell of it alone sent me into a fit of suffocating coughs - it was like I walked into a room which had all the oxygen replaced with pepper spray, and was expected to just keep on breathing! Needless to say, that wasn't going to work out, so I headed back to the auditorium where my belongings were left (I always keep a granola bar on hand) and where we would be meeting back up with all the students after lunch. When 1:00 rolled around and the teachers had yet to return to get the second half of the day under way, it came to me.

There they all were - 200 ten to twelve year olds, sitting in perfect rows, waiting for their instructors to return, and knowing that it could be days before they chose to - and all at once I realized what it was that had been missing all along . . . chaos and disorder.

So, in this train of thought, I grabbed the microphone and started getting them to mimic my frenzied clapping, then I started dancing around and had them copy that as well. I had them singing songs, playing games, screaming and yelling, laughing, running, sitting down, standing up, rolling around on the floor, and climbing all over the room and each other for a solid 30 minutes. It was amazing; I worked them into such a manic frenzy it was as if they were hopped up on 10 lbs of koolaid and and a pint of Ben and Jerri's each. Once they were absolutely beyond any and all control I looked up and saw my counterparts standing in complete shock at the awe inspiring disaster that was taking place before them. Some how I was able to calm them down enough to get them back in their rows and off to their next station for the beginning of the afternoon, but it was clear that it was going to take a true miracle to achieve a state of calm and quiet again for the rest of the afternoon.

While I had an absolute blast and would repeat the episode in a heart beat, I'm not sure anyone else in charge would agree . . . I'd be shocked if they invited me back. But, learning is supposed to be fun and sitting around waiting for someone to fill them with knowledge just wasn't going to cut it. This was my first venture into productivity, my first attempt at being a bigger part of more of my community, and great opportunity to get to spend time with the people I love most and came here for - students. It was a success, exhausting, and totally entertaining.

Field Trip . . .

Three days after my tornado of and English Camp, the middle/high school in which I "teach" was taking the students on a field trip. For the entire term they were taking part in a nation wide competition called "Dream School." It was called a competition, because eventually there is a school named Thailand's "Dream School," but in all actuality it is a ridiculous undertaking that schools are expected to take part in and they are required to continue modifying and improving their "Dream School" performance until the judges deem it good enough to pass. Some schools (those with lots of money and resources) pass on the first try, those of us, however, who are less fortunate are forced to do this whole song and dance over and over and over again. This would all make sense if there was a shred of academic merit to a single second of it, but students are expected to dress up and dance, sing songs, give speeches, and lead tours of the school. The practice and preparation took the students out of the classroom for an entire term and had them learning to fake greatness instead of teaching them to actually achieve it. With that being said, after six attempts the school finally passed and was allowed to end the struggle to please these unrealistic judges. In celebration of the "Dream School's" completion we went on a field trip.

Tip (my counterpart) and I were in charge of the 9th grade class and so were asked to be at the school at 5:30 on Friday morning for a head count and to get everyone on the bus. To my great pleasure, when I arrived, I saw that Tip brought along her seven year old daughter Aum. She is one of my favorite people here and the object of most of my affection while at site . . . it started out a good day. When we made sure the students were all there and made note of those who weren't we got on the bus and headed for Bangkok. Now, it should be mentioned that buses in this country are nothing like what you are picturing at this very moment in your mind; they are plagued with Thailand's two biggest flaws . . . volume and temperature control.

It is like they think that because this is probably the HOTTEST place on the face of the planet earth that they should create the polar ice caps whenever possible. Buses have air condition (for the most part) and it is generally turned up to such a degree that one can see their breath with little to no effort. As if that weren't bad enough they also usually are fully equipped with large speaker systems, T.V.s, and Karaoke. Still don't think I have a legitimate reason to complain? Well, they love to turn the volume up so loud that one's ears ring for days following the trip and the music being played, if you're lucky, is some mushy Thai pop song with music video. If you are one of the more unfortunate travelers, which on this particular day I just so happened to be, they actually have a mic and they sing Karaoke the entire way. Just imagine it . . . 60 9th graders stuck on a bus that is below freezing, singing karaoke songs at the top of their longs, some how forgetting that the little apparatus in their hands actually makes their voices louder all on its own, without their pitchy attempts to project.

Don't worry, I survived and was one of the more blessed victims in fact, because my ticket was a one way deal.

Getting on with the actual field trip. We made three stops in total: the first was a quick refreshment and bathroom break, for anyone who couldn't figure out how to hold it for a 2 hour bus ride (bladder control people . . . I mean come on!), the second was to a huge park that housed eight different museums. We went to three of them, and then headed for our third and final destination - "Dream World" (no connection to the previously mentioned contest). Not needing to use the restroom I passed up the chance to stretch my legs on the first stop, but was in charge of 10 students on the next, so had to get off the bus and get involved.

We went to the museum of technology, the museum of natural history, and the museum of art. The museums were well done and full of interesting displays. Being in charge of a group of students who wanted nothing to do with each other or me, however, was a bit of a struggle. Not to mention the fact that Aum decided to come with me instead of her mom and she was nearly impossible to keep track of. She is tiny (just like me at that age) and loves to get lost in the crowd, only to double back and laugh hysterically when you turn around in a frantic panic to find her. So, while I was interested in the contents of the museums themselves, I had my hands full and can honestly not remember a single thing I learned or saw. I was extremely relieved when we ate lunch, got back on the bus, and put people back in charge of their own destinies.

Final Stop - "Dream World": This is an amusement park with rides, haunted houses, paddle boats, and 3-D movies. Here we gave the students their tickets, told them when to be back on the buses, and let them do their own thing. This was great news to me, because that meant I got Aum all to myself and we had a blast. Tip doesn't like the rides, and wouldn't do a lot of what was there, so I took Aum and we experienced every single thing she was tall enough to enjoy.

I must say, that had it not been for my little companion this would have been something of a disappointing world meant to represent the majestic nature of dreams. There were no big roller coasters, nothing that sent you flying through the air, flipping, turning, diving, racing toward the unforgivable solidity of pavement right before throwing you back into the air, and ending in an immediate and exhilarating halt. Really, it kind of made kiddie land at any amusement park in the States look like a state of the art land of thrills. But paddle boats, mini roller coasters, bumper cars, and haunted houses were enough to keep Aum entertained and that was the goal . . . objective achieved.

For me, this was the end of the road - unfortunately for the rest of the staff, they had to relive the karaoke bus ride one more time before returning home. The field trip was perfect timing for me, as it was on a Friday and it just so happened that it required a trip to Bangkok, where I had plans to spend the weekend - which brings me to the next portion of this novel length update.

Arnie and Brooke . . .

Right around the time I arrived at site I received an e-mail from my Dad informing me that Arnie, an old family friend known as Uncle Arnie, was considering moving to Bangkok to teach at an international school. I was excited about the prospect of having family within such close proximity and wondered how it would effect my time here. Seeing as how I seem to have nothing but time on my hands, I decided that it would be a really nice escape and even better, he was bringing his daughter Brooke, so it was going to give me a chance to know her too.

So, after a full day of field tripping and playing big sister to Aum, I was off to meet up with Arnie and Brooke for the weekend. I had only ever met Brooke once, when she was about five, so didn't really know her at all. Arnie on the other hand, has always been a presence in my life on some level. When I was just a little kid he was one of my very favorite people in the world. He would come over and wrestle with me and Cody until I was covered in whisker burn, Cody ran out of breath and exhausted the deep belly laugh we all loved so much, and Arnie couldn't hardly walk. After years of being my play toy, friend, uncle, supporter, and confidante he decided to move to Africa to pursue a career in international teaching.

I still vividly remember the day my dad told me he wouldn't be around any more. I was at my grandma's house sitting in the lazy boy recliner, which was the only necessary piece of furniture in the whole house, and watching "Bewitched;" I fully admit to being an overly emotional person and know that I take things more seriously than is reasonable on any level, so it should have come as no surprise to anyone when the news hit me like a semi going full speed. I thought my whole world was crumbling beneath me and that I would never survive such a devastating heart break. Good news . . . I survived and instead of letting it kill me, I found sanctuary and joy in making him my e-mail buddy. He was the first of many and, I believe, the start of my passion for staying in touch and connected to people. He stayed in Africa for years, moved back to the states, but never back to Colorado, and is now here - and through it all we have always been in contact.

So, it was easy to pick up where we left off when it came time to reunite. Granted, there would be no wrestling match, but there was lots of great conversation and I was spoiled like the princess I have always secretly known I am. We met for dinner at a big mall, went to a movie, and then headed to his house for the weekend. It was like entering the twilight zone after being at site for nearly 6 months. His housing development is called "Perfect Place" and literally is about as close as Thailand gets. It was full of beautiful, cared for houses, manicured yards, parks, and trails; the school was nicer than most college campuses in the country, and the small town right outside the development was made up of cute little restaurants, various Thai markets, and all the essentials a person could want or need. I felt like I stepped off a plane and was back in the states for a few days. It was fabulous.

We spent our time talking, watching movies, and playing with Brooke. She is adorable, at 9 years old, full of life and energy, and has a truly sweet affect. She told stories, played in the pool, taught me a thing or two about badminton, cuddled with me at night, and colored me a picture to take home before I left. It was perfect.

It was so comforting to be with people who love me, who know me, and who share some of my history. I love the friends I have made here and am sure they will continue to be a part of my life forever, but there is something to say about people who have always known you and love you because they have experienced a substantial part of your life with you. I miss being at home because I miss being around familiar people, who know what my good and bad days look like, and who love me regardless . . . this was a little touch of that, much needed and much appreciated. I fully intend to spend the next year and a half in their company on a regular basis.

Vacation!!! . . .

After six months at site and nine months in country, I decided it was time to take a real vacation. The trip was divided into two very distinctly different experiences. The first half was spent with a friend (Bethany) on the southern island of Kho Samui, taking part in a health retreat. The second half of the time was spent on an island only two hours away, called Kho Tao, where we met up with two other friends (Sarah and Hayden) and enjoyed the beach and being tourists for a week.

Vacation, Week One - Health Retreat:

Living in Thailand is full of interesting struggles and they are different for everyone; for me it has been getting a handle on my diet. The food here is full of MSG, random chemicals, sugar, salt, and EVERYTHING is fried. I know it's hard to believe, but I have been fighting and failing to maintain my figure in a place where everything is so bad for me and tastes so good. I eat dinner with my neighbor four nights a week and have no control over what I'm being fed and the rest of the time I feel so clueless that I eat whatever is around, or whatever someone puts in front of me. It has taken its toll on me physically and emotionally and I was really ready to take the control back and figure out how to be a healthier person while I'm here.

Bethany spent weeks researching and found a health retreat called "Darma Healing Center" and signed us up. This was an intense way to learn about my body's needs, but it was a great experience and totally worth it. We were only allowed to eat fruits and vegetables for 48 hours before arriving, and we would be fasting the whole seven days we spent there. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and really rewarding. We were also asked to do two colonics a day, one with tea and the other with coffee. While I am sure it would be hilarious to go into great detail about the intricasies of this process, it might cause some of my readers minor discomfort, and honestly I'm a little embarrassed about it myself . . . so, I'll spare you the nitty gritty and just say, that it was interesting.

Our days were spent in classes at a bungalow right on the beach, learning about the benefits of healthy eating, what to eat when, and how to prepare things. We also engaged in yoga, a lesson on the healing power of sound (where a man came and did a demonstration with Tebitin singing bowls), creative cleansing, and a whole class on coconuts. In case anyone was wondering, coconuts are like magic . . . they will save your life, keep you young, flavor your food, and keep you from being thristy, so eat them up!! There was a day spent in the kitchen; we made our own juice (and were allowed to drink it), then we made a whole pile of things that would help us break our fasts more successfully. It was extremely difficult to prepare food that I was unable to eat for another three days - I was really grumpy on that particular day :)

The retreat included two massages, a text book, all the classes, and the supplements we took each day. There was a spoonful of clay to be ingested in the morning, and a glass of herbs that made me want to vomit air, seeing as that was all that was in my stomach, two cocnuts a day, and broth (which was water with some garlic in it) each night. The herbs made it so I wasn't physically hungry, but there was no doubt in my mind that my brain was hungry; I thought about food every second of every day I was there.

So, that was our first week. We spent it torturing ourselves and learning to be more healthy individuals, while we cleansed our bodies of the distruction we have been causing since arriving in this country. I learned a lot, loved the classes, enjoyed sitting on the beach reading my books, and was with great company. It was fabulous, though we got the order wrong, because week two was not at all a week of health.

Vacation, Week Two - Kho Tao:

Once the fast was over Bethany and I headed for the next island to meet Sarah and Hayden. Kho Tao is far more beautiful and much more relaxing than Koh Samui, which is dirty, busy, and kind of hard to navigate. On Kho Tao we were able to stay in a bungalow for 4 right on the beach for dollars a night. The beach was fabulous, great for swimming, and perfect to get a nice tan and read a good book. We spent most of our days just laying around soaking up the sun and enjoying the fact that our shoulders were showing and no one even seemed to notice, let alone care.

Koh Tao is a small island and a major destination for divers. There were more foreigners there than there were Thai people, and it was easy to get around. The small streets are lined with food vendors, little shops, and great restaurants. So, we took advantage of all of this and spent most of our afternoons, when it got too hot to sit on the beach, shopping and eating. That's right . . . we ate! We ate anything and everything there was to eat with absolutely not regard for it's nutritional benefits, or lack there of. I had a minimun of 3 coconut milk shakes a day, endless snacks, and huge meals - it was heaven and completely negated any and all progress I made at the retreat. We should have planned the trip in the opposite order :)

Nights were a bit more lively for us. We would take one last evening swim and watch the sunset in the ocean, then we would head back to the bungalow and get dressed for dinner and a night on the town. Hold on to your seats because this is about to get exciting. After grourging on some delicious treat for dinner we would head off to some bar or another, order coconut shakes, and spend the rest of the night playing travel scrabble!!! It was amazing. I finally met people who are just as nerdy as me and they embrace it . . . it made for a great vacation, spent with just the right kind of people.

The return home was a 10 hour, over night bus ride to Bangkok, a sleepless night at the Peace Corps office, and another bus ride back to site the following day. It was daunting, but a nice way to ease back into the solitude that awaits me whenever I am in Ban Chang.

Now . . .

Now, I am back at site and getting ready for school to start next week. I've been continuing my steady diet of good books, and have spent a lot of time planning for the term to come. We made some major schedule changes and have worked to come up with ways to make this a more successful experience for everyone involved. So, I am hopeful that things will start to turn around, and if not, I'm back to the English Camp gig.

I'm spending Thanksgiving in Bangkok with the other volunteers because we don't get American holidays off and there is no planned celebration. So, we have all decided to get together and have dinner and spend the weekend in good company. December is going to be an exciting time because the day I turn 24 my family will be arriving for a two week stay. We have a Mid-service Conference held by Peace Corps in January, where we get a bunch of medical stuff taken care of and we get together to talk about what has been going on in the year since we got here, and Alberto is talking about having me go to Virginia to see him in the middle of Feburary. So there is lots going on and lots to look forward to. If I work hard, make my time here count, and look forward to the treasures coming my way, the next three months should fly by.

The solitude and inactivity are getting to be less and and less of a frustration as I get better and better at entertaining myself, finding productive ways to spend my time, and plan for the future. There have been days when leaving was a serious consideration, now I know that this adventure wasn't embarked upon only to do what I can to help while I'm here, but force me to take a good, long, hard look in the mirror and learn to see myself - keep the things I like and learn to improve upon the things I don't.

And with that, you are completely up to date on all things Abbylee.

I Love you, Let's Eat.

Days here often feel like months; hours drag on as if being pulled through quick drying cement, struggling their way from one to the next. And yet the hand-made count down calender hanging from my wall kindly reminds me that I have already spent eight months in this country. The passing of time is a strange thing - in the presences of living through its passing it crawls, freezes completely, skips ahead, and then again falls behind, but at the end of a week, or month it is hard to believe all of those hours marked only by the turning of another page have actually ceased to exist and are resting in the dust of the past. More than half of a year of my life is now done and gone; the first part of it was spent in a frenzy of meeting people, getting settled, learning the language, training sessions, living with a Thai family, becoming an actual volunteer (not just a mere trainee), and moving to site - at which point time started to slow down and my life was blurred by tired eyes from too much reading and ringing ears from the constant clamour of Thai students. And somewhere in the midst of all of this changing, learning, struggling, growing, and searching I realized that it had been eight months since I last saw Alberto - the only person with whom I have been in constant contact every single day of the last five years of my life.

The first four months of my service were marked by daily phone calls from his familiar voice, connecting this new world I was striving to make my own to the one I temporarily left behind. Anyone who knows Alberto knows that he is gifted, maybe not always motivated or timely, but truly talented; when he decides he is going to make something a part of his life he does so with a determination and skill few ever have the opportunity to possess. So it was with this same zest that he joined the Marines. We were in high school, in Mrs. McElroy's U.S. history class to be exact, when we met and from that day forward he has always talked about being a Marine. So it came as something less than a surprise when he once again pulled the dream from the closet, brushed off the dust bunnies, and made it happen.

Months four through seven of my service here lacked his sarcasm, his laughter, his regular inquiries into the experience I am living each day. During his three months at boot camp I wrote him a letter every single day and received one in return on a weekly basis. It never ceased to amaze and frustrate me how slowly things were delivered from one location to the next; it sometimes took more than three weeks for letters to get from here to there or from there to here and yet they continued to get me through my weeks spent in his complete absence. Of course through it all he was doing what he does best, he was taking charge and making a name for himself. Standing out amongst the rest of his platoon as a leader and hard working recruit he quickly became a squad leader and was the only recruit to maintain the position for the entire duration of boot camp. Before graduating he was meritoriously promoted to Private First Class (I have no idea what that means, but it's a good thing), and finished his time there far ahead of his peers. It was to be expected that he would take this challenge and conquer it, but it doesn't diminish the accomplishment or how proud of him it makes me feel.

Right before he left for boot camp he decided that as soon as he was finished he was going to come and visit me. Planning a trip that consists of a minimum of two lay-overs, 20 hours in a plane, and a pick up at an unknown airport is something of a struggle when attempted through letters that are, on an extremely great week, two weeks delayed - but somehow we made it happen. Don't get me wrong it wasn't without set-backs - like take for example the fact that he missed his initial flight here and had to wait for the next available one on stand by. That's right, he got here a whole day later than expected, but that was OK because I went into Bangkok a couple of days early only to find out that my credit card had been flagged and put on a restrictive hold, leaving me penniless and in a panic, no need to worry, however, because I had plenty of extra time to get it all worked out with the delays in our plans. When he finally got here his return flight was for the very next day, which was just simply not going to do, so we had to set about righting that wrong and once that was taken care of we were in perfect form to set out and see the sights.

It's funny how quickly one's surroundings become mundane, the norm, and the expected. I never stop complaining about the heat, but it is also something I have just come to expect; I forget that the people here move unnaturally slow regardless of venue, circumstance, or situation; it is no longer a strange sight to me to walk past unknown species of meat on a grill; the language which is tonal, choppy, and loud seems natural and to a certain degree is understood; and dealing with shystey cab drivers doesn't at all phase me anymore. Alberto, however, was mesmerized by all the foreign and unique attributes of this land in which he suddenly found himself in the middle, and for the short time he was here I was brought back to the novelty of it all and found myself enjoying the things I realized I stopped appreciating.

We spent three days walking. We walked all over the city, through markets, up and down little streets and allies. We wound our way through the stalls of Thai vendors at the local mall and investigated every single stop on the Sky Train routes. I saw more of the city in three days with Alberto than I have in my combined ten visits since living here. But walking wasn't all we did, in fact, it paled in comparison to the real reason for this reunion . . . we ate!

I went to the airport and retrieved my precious cargo and after a quick drop off of luggage and shower we hit the streets. Thailand is full of vendors selling such a wide assortment of foods it is hard to even begin explaining the things one will see and find on any given street at all hours of day or night. Less than an hour after his arrival Alberto had already consumed a chicken shawarma wrap, an assortment of bugs, a kabob, drank a coconut, shared a mango and sticky rice with me, ordered a strawberry hooka, gulped down a Pakistani custard, and surprisingly passed on some yogurt drink that tasted more like salt than anything else. Exhausted and full we called it a night. Only to wake up the next morning and have freshly made juice, pastries, duck, and coconut custard for breakfast. It went on like this the entire time he was here. There wasn't a single vendor we passed that he didn't want to stop and investigate and usually we ended up with a bag full of something warm and delicious. He ate fish, an assortment of fruits native to this area of the world, home-made ice cream every time a vendor passed us by, Thai tea whenever we saw it, and SomTam (traditional spicy papaya salad). And these are just a few of the Thai meals, snack, drinks, desserts, and adventures we indulged in. We found ourselves at a middle eastern restaurant at one point, where we had what was deemed the best hummus of his life, a watermelon slushy (made from fresh watermelon, of course), and about thirteen different plates full of savory food. I woke up every day bloated from the night before and went to bed feeling a little more round than I previously remembered.

I just read a book called "Laughing Without an Accent" and in it the author mentioned a belief held by the Japanese; it said that in Japan they believe that for every new food a person tries they add seven days to their life. If this is the case then Alberto is well on his way to becoming an immortal. I have never met a person in all of my life, and find it hard to believe I ever will, that enjoys a culinary adventure quite as much as he does. Every new opportunity is like a window into is soul and while some souls might be fed by things like love, trust, humor, passion, and friendship, Alberto's is simply fed by food.

That is not to say that is wasn't wonderful having him here . . . it was. Being near him again, hearing all of his tales of military life, seeing him smile, feeling him laugh, having my hand held, and my forehead kissed were all things that I missed more than I would ever allow myself to fully realize (I'd be on the next plane home if that were the case). He is a Marine now, but he is also still the Alberto I fell in love with and who will always own my heart . . . and I guess my stomach. It is a blessed life when you get to spend it with someone who supports all your dreams, feels natural by your side, and loves you on your good days as much as on your bad. And for my part, I don't feel insecure or hurt when he follows "I love you" with "now let's eat," because I know what it takes to keep his hungry being going.

Adjusting

Anyone who knows me at all knows about my lists; I write them for everything. My night-stand is littered with pink post-it notes, most of which are old lists, some of which are current and of the utmost importance. I have a sheet of paper taped to my refrigerator in case I'm in the kitchen at the exact moment the urge to put something into writing strikes me. I have four pads of sticky notes (in various colors and sizes), a calender, a notebook, and a planner all scattered meticulously around my desk. In my purse there is a travel sized notebook; every bag, box, small compartment, or pocket I own is armed with a notepad of some sort, all of which are filled with lists. For the sake of never being without the really important lists I write them in multiple sources and make sure they reside in the most convenient and frequented places so that no matter where I am I won't have to live with the fear of finding myself listless.

I make packing lists, grocery lists, lists of the books I've read, lists of the things I want to do before I die, lists of my favorite songs, lists of my favorite quotes, lists of the places I want to go, lists of the things I need to do. I keep lists of phone numbers, birthdays, addresses, and e-mail contacts. I am completely convinced that my life without these numerous and constant reminders would simply cease to operate. I would become some lost soul in a deep, dark forest - fumbling around trying to find my way, only to stumble into tree after tree, trip over small shrubbery, scare small animals away, and attract the carnivorous nature of the larger predators lurking in the surrounding blackness. If only I had carried with me the list explicitly instructing that I not leave home without my flash light and the one with a detailed explanation regarding escaping the twisted vines of my over grown and under pruned mind - I would not be facing the battle in the dark, but would be fighting it with efficiency and confidence.

Thailand is not so concerned with the order, highly planned, and plotted nature in which I live my life. It is a country which runs an hour late (if not significantly more) and operates on a whim with little thought as to its next move. Peace Corps strongly suggests that volunteers use their blogs, or personal web pages to positively express the experiences they are having so as not to offend their counterparts and nationals with whom they work. My time here has been filled with an abundance of blessings, and for that I am nothing but thankful; however, my life thus far at site has not been the smooth, comfortable experience I was afforded when living amongst the familiarity of the other volunteers and the loving companionship of my host family. I am determined to make this work and find something to appreciate in everyday here - but the adjustment in the last two months has been far from easy and leaving this out of the entries I send your way feels like a lie.

As I mentioned before, I am a planner. I love that my days are filled with structure and predictability. That is not to say that I am without love for adventure and spontaneity, but breezy decisions do not come naturally to me and living a life which depends on the unplanned and whimsical nature of those surrounding me is a challenge.

During my training a current Peace Corps Volunteer came and discussed classroom management with us and her experiences working in a Thai Classroom. She was a strong advocate for spending the first week, or two, simply observing the counterparts and students in order to gauge ability levels and successful starting points. I thought this was a particularly good idea, as it allowed me the opportunity to sit tight and make a list of each counterpart's strengths and weaknesses, the students' ability levels, and the methodologies I would like to implement. This was a grave mistake and it set the tone that I would not be an active participant and major contributor to the lessons, and since I have met nothing but resistance when attempting to assert myself as an authority on child-centered teaching techniques. I have been relegated to master student wathcer and occasional word pronouncer.

For weeks I struggled with these issues; there was a constant nagging that was tugging at my heart saying, "Abby, you are wasting your time . . . Is this really worth it for the next two years of your life? Is this something you are going to go home proud of?" Right now my answer is no and still I will not throw in the towel.

When I signed up to be here; when I packed my bags and dragged them and my family to the airport; when I tearfully embraced my Dad as he whispered words of encouragement and praise in my ear; when my Mom enveloped me in the kind of hug only she can give and I knew it would be months, perhaps years before I saw my best friend again; when I peeled myself from Alberto's arms and felt all the pain of a broken heart I did it because I believe in the transformative power and awe inspiring strength of education. I was lifted off the ground by the strength of my 6 foot tall brothers arms and crunched in love, I looked back and held on to the sight of Shawna's car until it was gone because teaching is a responsibility that I don't take lightly and there was teaching to be done.

I came here with very little actual teaching experience (something I can still claim) but with all the idealism and ideas a person of my slight stature has the capacity to offer. I'm neurotic, I make lists, I plan, I'm intense, I get things done and I was ready to put all of this passion and energy to good use. I left with a fairly structured and strong educational philosophy and while I have yet to put a lot of it to use I am here shaping what I thought was a perfectly complete statement of my intentions as a teacher every single day, and that is work enough.

Being given the gift of a captive audience everyday is one of the many special things about a career in education. Students in Thailand are just that, though their captivation seems to be only minimally considered and their time even less valued. Going to school here is simply nothing like the education our lucky American students have the privileged to receive. Teachers here believe that classroom management consists of hitting students and then are awe struck when their first instincts for conflict resolution are to resort to physical abuse of their peers. In the middle of class it is no strange event for the teacher to take a phone call and remain on the line for a significant portion of the period; this is a good day because they are at least present. There are uncountable days in which Thai students are left unsupervised and untaught, giving them the message that they are not important enough for some one's undivided attention for one hour of the day. It breaks my heart and only furthers my conviction that I was sent here for good reason. I was sent here because blatant favoritism and sexism do not have a place in any productive or positive environment. I was sent here because I can offer less humiliating and more successful alternatives than corporal punishment for classroom management. I was sent here because I believe so strongly in all of these things that I will not be stopped until they are achieved.

I am not an ELA teacher and still I have the tools to help my counterparts. A very wise man once told me (I believe it was the first day of my student teaching) that the best teachers teach the students first and the content second. I live with the truth of those words everyday. My job here is to take two teachers and show them what it means to plan, to actually take the time to plan for their students, to create lessons and materials that not only relate to their lives but inspire them to find what makes them excited and passionate and to encourage them to pursue those things, to help them include every student every day, to make them see the necessity for valuing student's time, and making them feel important. My charge here is to take my two counterparts and make them see the potential they have to give their students the tools to reach the highest of their capacities in order to change their communities, provinces, country, maybe even something significant in the world. This is not an easy job and so far I have had little success, but I blame that mostly on the fact that I, until about two days ago, was unable to see the big picture or to actually define the function of my time in Thailand.

Tonight I feel motivated because I don't have to change the entire educational system of this country. It is silly to think a single person in two small years could do such a thing. I am here to help two teachers change their ideas of what it means to provide a quality education to their students and in turn I have been given the gift of effecting hundreds if not thousands of Thai children. That is something I can come home and be proud of.

The cultural adjustments have been hard and are still something I struggle with every single day. Feeling like I am sitting in this intensely hot country wasting away is disheartening and frustrating. Knowing that it is only a matter of time before I hit the right never, say the right thing, or play the right card and really start to make some improvements is motivating. Understanding how rewarding my potential success might be is enough to keep my clothes in the closet and my books on the shelves. I have only two years and a lot of work to do, but when I leave a legacy of lists will remain.

Home Sweet Home . . . and Vegetables

It's small, it's cute, it's home!!!! This is my house - a small, tan, cement structure in the middle of Thailand . . . somedays it's still hard to believe. The building you can see behind my house and to the left is the health center, where they have aerobics each night - I hop the fence and join them most nights, if I don't I have to sit at home and listen to it anyway, which makes me feel guilty and lazy for not doing what I can for the only body I'll be given in this life. Thai aerobics is hilarious and always worth the 5 second walk - the instructors have no training and usually no sense of rhythm, so it tends to be an hour of randomly bouncing around in an attempt to mimic the coach who has absolutely no idea what a successful hour of exercise looks like. I mostly stand in the back and laugh until my stomach hurts - I've decided that laughter is a kind of exercise in and of it self.

Back to my house!!! It is one floor, covered in blue tile (except for the really and truly intelligent person who decided to break that pattern and tile the entire bathroom in WHITE - which is now a yellowish brown, that no amount of bleach has been able to bring back to a clean shine!), two bedrooms, a living space, and a kitchen. The floor is tiled in blue, the refrigerator is blue, the washing machine is blue, my bookshelf is blue, my night stand is blue, my table is blue, my sheets, pillows, and blankets are blue . . . I don't mind blue, but there is a lot of it here and I seem to acquire more everyday.

The picture above is what you see when you enter the front door - I tried taking pictures of each room, but they are so small that my camera only caught little bits of them . . . pretty ineffective. Aside from the wealth of blue, I have an abundance of cement! The property surrounding my home does not have a blade of grass, no dirt, not a pebble of gravel . . . I am completely trapped by cement. I don't mind the cement because it is easy to take care of, but it is extremely hot and the lack of foliage around turns my house into something of a target for the suns scorching fingers. My house is the hottest house in my tambone and my neighbors think that if they tell me it is the hottest house in all of Thailand on a daily basis I will somehow be able to shade it from the suns burning stare. Unfortunately I have no such powers and spend a lot of time at a rolling boil.

Again, the cement doesn't really bother me, but I was looking really forward to planting and caring for a garden. I mentioned this desire to my landlord (also my principal), and co-workers and they made it happen . . . in fact they made it happen almost immediately. I have sinks that leak, a hot water heater that doesn't work, a door that locks but does not un-lock, and only one fan - all things I mention on a regular basis in hopes to have them fixed (I even put them on one of Abby's all famous lists and gave them to anyone I thought had the authority to see the tasks completed). I had a single, brief, and fleeting conversation in which I brought up the desire to grow my own vegetables and three hours later large CEMENT planter rings were set up in the back of my house and filled with soil. I was all set to plant a plentiful garden in no time . . . I am still waiting for the sinks to stop leaking, to take a hot shower, and to spend a day enjoying the breeze of an abundance of fans.

The following day my second co-worker and a couple of her neighbors came to pick me up and take me to the beach for the afternoon. They all heard about my new garden and wanted to come take a look at what I hoped to grow - they were outraged that the planters were put in a place which received little to no shade (I'm not sure they understood that there was no such place on my property). The rest of the day was spent discussing my need for an up-graded garden. I shook my head and agreed, but knew that what I got was what I had and there wasn't much I could do about it.

There was something, however, that they could do about it and they fully intended to. The next morning I was ripped from my sleep by a truk's horn and shouts of my name . . . I was a bit disconcerted, as it was 6:00 a.m. and I wasn't familiar with the voices. I got out of bed, unlocked my door, and was facing the men that could not let "their" volunteer live in a home that wasn't perfect. They brought lumber, tools, all the necessary elements for building a cover for my garden and then some. They spent the rest of the morning building me, what they call a slant, and then wandering around fixing anything else they could in and on my house. It rained that night and the next morning things started sprouting, my water doesn't leak, and my door easily locks and un-locks. I will likely never see these men again, but there will be more - Thai people are generous in a way that most of the world struggles to understand. I must have thanked them a thousand times, offered to pay for things, buy them lunch, get them something cold to drink - they stared at me blankly and said, "you needed this done, we did it, we don't want anything from you." Home sweet home . . . and vegetables.

Goodbye Homestay - Hello Home

My last days spent with my home stay family were a mix of tender moments and nervous anticipation of what leaving these people would mean for the next two years of my life. We sat at dinner each night eating nothing but our laughter, as we remembered my first week with this seemingly alien group of creatures that called themselves my family (of human descent); we hugged (something Thai people do not do) each night before I crawled into my tent to great my dreams; we shared pictures, phone numbers, e-mail addresses, and home addresses in promise that I would always remain their little American daughter; we spent every second we had left knowing that we fell in love with each other and that would always remain a part of our souls - I walked away seeing a family, a bundle of people who seemed anything but alien anymore.

The last week of training was spent in a series of interviews, assessments, language tests, meetings, and preparation for our thank you party, held in honor of our host families. I was signed up to perform a traditional Thai dance which required that I do double dutch with bamboo poles and a partner. I usually feel like a rather athletic person and have rarely had reason to doubt my agility or coordination - this stinking game of hopscotch they call a dance made me feel like a one legged, one armed goon attempting to win a tennis tournament. After days and hours of practice my partner and I finally got it down and the performance went off without a hitch (P.S. Mom and Dad - I smiled through the whole thing!!!! You wouldn't have believed it was me).



My host family had a surprise, going-away dinner for me the last night I was to live with them. All the people in my tambone and the members of my extended family came to celebrate the next phase of this adventure and to say goodbye. Saying goodbye Thai style means you better have taken a shower, fluffed your hair, and gooped up those eyes with extra long lash mascara because the next three hours of your life is going to be one long photo-op. In remembrance of the first time we all got together in much the same manner - we had a Thai barbecue (which, by the way, I LOVE). It was just like a goodbye should be; we laughed, we ate, we acted like tomorrow wasn't a reality, and we parted ways with little recognition as to what a mere ten hours away meant. At the end of the evening my camera's memory card was completely full and my cheeks ached the satisfactory pain of a muscle which has been asked to work beyond its normal expectations. I watched the people who had been so kind to me, took such good care of me, fed me, protected me, and been proud to call me a part of their lives walk away and I knew that there was no reason for tearful goodbyes - I would be back and soon we would spend another evening, together again.




The floodgates were posted and held strong as my neighbors, friends, and extended family found their way back home - the following morning, when my Mom, Dad, and Sister knew today would be our last breakfast together was not at all approached with the same restraint. My Dad woke me up at 4:30 that morning with a mission I will spend the rest of my life appreciating. He had made a special trip to the market and purchased a truck load of baby trees - there was a tree for every household in our tombone - he spent a full month's wages to ensure our last moments together would be something we could both look back on and melt into a world which was made better because we were able to be productive and kind in one anther's presence. We spent the next three hours watching the sun come up, breaking into our neighbor's yards, and planting trees; we planted something living, something tangible, something that required responsibility, and care; we planted a living reminder that I was there and if you take care of the things you love the fruits of your labor will always return strong, healthy, and able to give back what you have put forth. The last tree we planted was in our own back yard - the minute the camera's flash went off and we both knew there was no more posing to be done, we cried, we hugged, we packed my belongings into the truck, and we walked away.


The rest of my last day with my host family was spent with my mom, sister, grandma, grandpa, cousin, and aunt. They all accompanied me to the thank you party and watched my dance. They each received a certificate of appreciation for hosting an American Peace Corps Volunteer (there is no Thai celebration, camp, training, concert, graduation, special occasion, etc. without certificates) and then it was time to say goodbye. There was no use in trying to do anything, but cry - so we all did. It was a heart wrenching afternoon, but it brought about the kind of sadness one can feel proud of - if it hurt that bad then I was able to really make an impact on their lives and we had the courage to openly and honestly allow each other a place in the other's heart . . . that's not an easy thing to do. Since then I call them every night before I take my evening shower and am already planning a trip to go and visit.

Our last three days in Chaibadan were spent at the hotel, which was our home for the first week we lived in Thailand. We had a conference with our counterparts and spent the evenings enjoying the company of our fellow volunteers, knowing that we would soon be too far apart to offer that American edge and release that sometimes feels so necessary. Music was played, songs were sung, much drinking, laughing, and crying were done - it was all VERY Peace Corps . . . if you know what I mean, but it was a nice end to life here as we all knew it and an easy beginning to the changes that were so quickly approaching.

Now I am in the province of Rayong in a city called Ban Chang. I am a 45 minute bike ride to the beach, a 3 minute walk to school, and 10 seconds away from my nearest neighbor. I have a house of my own and too much time to have any idea what to do with it all. My neighbors are wonderful people who take great care of me - I eat with them 4 nights a week in order to practice Thai and not go crazy . . . they love it. My counterparts are really excited and eager to have a native speaker in their classrooms, and the principals I am working with are honest and good men. It is summer break here right now and hotter than ever - so really and truly I have nothing, but time. School begins again in the middle of May, at which point I hope to have sat down with my co-teachers and created a game plan so that on day one we can walk in there and start teaching some English. Life right now is slow, but good. It didn't take long to feel at home and at ease here, but there are still many a minutes when I long for the baking of pastries, a chat with my Sister, and the kind presence of my Thai Dad . . . when I visit them next I am sure there will be plenty to miss about his new place I call home.