The Hammock

Come lay dear friend by the hammock
And speak to me of olden times
The world were told
Is dark and cold
And seen its best days pass it by.

And yet dear friend
Here by a hammock
Under skies no plane has passed
We share a view—a joyous view of a world that has
lasted quite a while.

And remains quite young.

Neither dark nor cold
Nor bland and old
Our world has aged with grace

As the gentle wind blows on our hammock strings
So too, has been the passing of our days.

Those Crazy Americans

*help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of Thais
*help promote a better understanding of Thais on the part of the Americans
--Goals 2 and 3 of Peace Corps

“It’s so refreshing” my friend Maria told me “to be around crazy Americans.” The crazy Americans she was referring to were my friends Tony, Pedro and Kathy who, at the precise moment of her comment, were walking around the local mall wearing masks (Pedro was a power ranger, Tony was Voltron, Kathy was a panda) and waving at confused Thai children. Refreshing was one word to describe their visit. Entertaining, Ridiculous, Hilarious and Crazy are others that come to mind.

The month of March, that found me hosting four friends from California, was nothing short of hilarious, entertaining, ridiculous and crazy. It was also a lot of fun. It was such a joy being able to share this part of my life with friends. Not only did I get to expose them to a life I had been living for about a year but I also got to see my own experience through new lenses. Seen through my friends’ eyes, nothing was too mundane or commonplace. Things I had come to take as routine—lizards running all over my house, the food, the chill vibe that reverberates throughout the village, my muay thai fighting villagers—were all sources of wonder for my friends. And their excitement was contagious. I’ve always been a big fan of Thai food but having my friends rave about how good it was (not to mention how cheap) reanimated my taste buds and I found myself not just eating for eating’s sake but eating the way eating should be done—with full enjoyment. I went through the gai yang, tom yum, som tum and kaoniaw with a gusto that I had not had for a while....around one week. Meals became a major part of my friends’ itinerary and we took full delight in it. My villagers of course, as is the norm in Thailand, have made sure to point out that I’ve gained some weight.
Perhaps the single best thing about their visit (other than the chocolates they brought over) was the interaction they had with my village. One of the best privileges that comes with being a Peace Corps Volunteer is the opportunity to serve as a bridge between American culture and that of the host country. My friends got to see and partake in a Thailand not seen in travel brochures and my villagers…well, they got to see some crazy Americans. I took my friends to work with me and had my kids attempt to teach them the local dialect. Let’s just say my students got a glimpse of what I go through trying to teach them English.

I must admit I felt a lot of pride watching my kids interact with my friends. When I first arrived in the village, these 5th graders were too shy to speak. Now they were asking questions to foreigners they met for the first time! I told my kids that Nikki worked in fashion and they all got the impression that she was either a designer or a model. With my limited vocabulary, I think I led them to believe she was actually both. One of the first things they asked her was to teach them how to walk like a model. My 5th grade girls absolutely loved it (so did the boys) and one afternoon, my thousand year old ruins were transformed into a catwalk with Nikki and 5 of my students as the models. What the monks must have been thinking!

How to sway hips and a horrible ear for tonal languages were not the only things my friends brought over of course. Through my friends, my villagers got to see the diversity and the energy that makes America so beautiful. That none of my friends were the blond, blue eyed Americans my villagers associated with America cemented aspects of America I've been sharing with them all along: that America is a truly diverse country; that we all don't look alike, don't sound alike, don't have the same religion and yet, we are all Americans; that beauty is not measured only through a light skin tone but by who a person is inside; that Americans are in fact interested in other cultures and peoples and are in fact willing to travel to a rural village in northeastern Thailand inorder to learn more about other cultures and spend time with other peoples. My villagers, while appreciating my work here have always wondered why I would leave America to live amongst them in rural Thailand. They've always thought I was a bit crazy for doing so. Meeting my friends and seeing their genuine appreciation for life in the village was a source of pride for my community. I'd like to think I became even less of an anomaly in my villagers' eyes after the visit.

As I continue to work on Goal 1 of Peace Corps—to help a country meet its need for trained men and women, I’m glad to know that Goals 2 and 3 are being accomplished…one crazy American at a time.

Manifold Expressions of Life part 1

“I spent more hours than I can count a quiet witness to the highly mannered, manifold expressions of life that grace our planet. It is something so bright, loud, weird, and delicate as to stupefy the senses.”
- from the Life of Pi

Ajan Mai sits on a stone block, shirtless, devotedly working on wood carvings of the Buddha as I bike past his home in the afternoon. At night I head to school to call Caitlin and he is still there—a lone fluorescent light bulb his only source of light.

Across the street my eighty four year old neighbor’s bare breasts dangle like balloons filled with water as she peels papayas.

I see a kindergartner from my school, stick in hand, walking barefoot as she leads five emaciated
cows home. She smiles and waves.

A 5th grade student of mine is picking petals off a flower. She is reciting “he loves me, he loves me not” in a language I now understand.

I watch my Thai grandmother weave silk. It is meticulous work. After a while, she notices me observing her. She smiles her beautiful toothless smile and asks if I have eaten. Three minutes later she is serving me a fried egg and some sticky rice.

Some of the village boys approach me while I am reading by the ruins. They carry a chicken. They then proceed to throw the chicken as high as they can before chasing the frightened animal all over the place. Their laughter (not to mention the chickens panicked cackling) fills the temple. I can’t decide whether I am more amused by their game or by the fact that their playground happens to be one thousand year old temple ruins.

It’s 5:30 PM. I watch the monks as they feed the fish, their saffron robes in visual harmony with the colors reflected by the lake. The sky basks in a brilliant sunset.

It’s 6:30 AM. The women of my village are beautiful in their silk dresses. There is a peaceful deliberateness in their stride as they carry food baskets to the wat.

It’s 7:00 PM. I am in my room unwinding over a book and listening to music. I hear my Thai grandfather chanting. His room is right next to mine. He is meditating. I turn down my music and continue reading, mesmerized by the ancient language reverberating through my room.

It is 9:00 PM. I step outside my house to take out the trash. The entire village is asleep. All I hear is the sound of crickets.

It is 10:03 PM I hear my Thai grandfather wake up to use the bathroom. I hear his bed creak, his door slide open. I hear him pass gas.

I am attending the funeral of Ajan Wichits brother in law. We eat tom yum, steamed fish, fried pork and sticky rice under a tarpaulin tent. Everyone I know from the village is there. Ajan Wichit sits by me, his shoulders sagging. He says, in English, “I am tired”

My 5th grade girls start telling me their crushes. They all giggle and blush.

I see my student, Gon, walking alone along the lake. I form my right hand into a fist and bounce it atop my left palm. He does the same. We start playing paper-rock-scissors from across the lake. We take turns winning but he ultimately beats me. I shake my fists at him playfully and I can see him laughing. There is more oomph in his step as he walks home.

I help my friend Ej with his life skills camp. One of the activities entails us making a grid in the ground. The grid is set up in advance. The next day we come in early only to see that the kids have made up their own game using the grid. Their laughter can be heard from the meeting hall.

I hitch a ride from the main road down to my village. Along the way, we stop to pick up some offerings for the temple in another village. I see two teenage boys passed out on a hammock, 7 bottles of beer lying on the dirt floor. It is 3 PM.

It is the beginning of the school year. I am teaching my 5th grade class when I notice an extra child in my classroom. A tiny kindergartner is sharing a seat with her older sister, coloring in her coloring book. She attends my class everyday for a week, sharing her older sister’s seat and coloring while I teach about pronouns. No one seems to mind.

I sit by the lake. I see my neighbor teaching his grandson how to use the slingshot. The child is focused, exuding only silent determination as stone after stone disappears into the lake. My neighbor, the new grandfather, is basically squealing in delight.

I am in one of Bangkok’s overcrowded outdoor markets that cater mostly to foreigners. My friend haggles down the price for some bootlegged watches. The seller, getting visibly impatient as my friend decides which exact watch he wants, snaps at us and yells for us to leave his stall. It is one of the few times I’ve ever seen a Thai get upset.

I’m at the arrival terminal of the international airport in Bangkok. A Thai lady my age is waiting for her 45 year old Canadian boyfriend. She has been waiting in the airport longer than I have and all she has is a flight number. I try to teach her how to understand the arrival information on the screens but she has difficulty following all the times and info. In the course of our conversation, I realize that she is not sure whether she can distinguish him from the other white men coming out of the arrivals gates.