I didn't sleep well last night and this morning my appetite was completely gone. I was not hungry for the entire day and was plagued by some pretty intense lethargy, body aches, and headache. Farang Fever, as it is known. No big deal, I consider it practice in thankfulness. How is it possible for me to complain about illness having had great health for the whole month?
My frustration did not come from being sick, from kids continually being disobedient, from kids shouting at all hours. My frustration certainly did not come from the completely random torrential rain that is still going on as I type. For the past 8 years, one teacher told me, it has NEVER rained during the dry season. Some people consider it a strange coincidence - the dark clouds in the sky correspond to the dark cloud that has descended over this school due to recent events.
Chris Beatty was a 23 year old Canadian who lived one floor below me. Last Friday I went with Chris to help chaperon the high school kids on a trip to a local resort to order desserts. We got to talk and joke around, he was a really fun kid. I say "was" because 2 days later he hopped on his moto and attempted to drive back home drunk. He fell off his bike that night not wearing a helmet. The impact, among other things, fractured his skull causing internal bleeding in the brain - his brain stem ceased to function. For a few days he remained brain dead in a hospital in Chiang Mai before his family arrived and pulled him off life support.
Today I found a memorial group on Facebook dedicated to celebrating his life. There was a post that invited people in Canada to meet at a bar and drink to celebrate his life. To be honest I felt furious for a second. "You want to celebrate this man's life by using the drug that killed him?!", I said out loud to myself. How horrifying. Here's some stats:
5% of all deaths from diseases of the circulatory system are attributed to alcohol.
15% of all deaths from diseases of the respiratory system are attributed to alcohol.
30% of all deaths from accidents caused by fire and flames are attributed to alcohol.
30% of all accidental drownings are attributed to alcohol.
30% of all suicides are attributed to alcohol.
40% of all deaths due to accidental falls are attributed to alcohol.
45% of all deaths in automobile accidents are attributed to alcohol.
60% of all homicides are attributed to alcohol.
Approximately 100,000 people die from alcohol each year. What can I say? This is my frustration.
Why don't I drink? Because alcohol wrecks lives, tears friends and family apart, and commits murder. Alcohol has nearly claimed the life of my brother, and it just took the life of a close friend. I don't support that drug.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Significance
So now that I've had the same dream about 5 times now, I figured it's worth writing about. I can remember 4 of them specifically.
The dreams I have follow the same formula: I find myself in the United States somewhere and all of a sudden realize I need to get back to Thailand immediately.
One of the dreams had me at Del Rey Hills Church where I was meeting a bunch of old friends. They asked me how Thailand was and were surprised to see me back. I all of a sudden realized I had come back to the US too early and had to get back to Thailand.
I was back in Westchester when I realized I needed to get a flight back to Thailand immediately. I had a large backpack on and began running up El Manor then down Sepulveda towards the airport.
I just entered the LMU gym and passed by Garret Garton from some of my LMU classes. He was asking what I had been doing after graduation. I told him I was teaching in Thailand but I was back here for a little break, but then realized I had to get back and the dream ended.
Last night the dream came in two parts. First I made a surprise visit to my family who were living in futuristic apartment. I rang the doorbell and my Dad answered and unenthusiastically led me into the small main room where my Mom and brother were. They were all standing watching a small flat screen TV on the wall and were totally disinterested in me or the fact that I had just came back from Thailand. There was a large flight of wooden stairs leading up to a large wooden hut sort of building in the middle of a bunch of green fields. I was a the top when Paddy (the new science teacher) appeared and asked me what I was doing here. I all of sudden realized it was April and I had come back to the US way too early. "We've got to get back to Thailand now!", I shouted. I jumped in a para gliding device and we were wisped away.
Strange dreams. I would say they are a product of my recent research and planning for when I come home, but I didn't start that till lately and I've been having these dreams since I first arrived in Chiang Mai. I have so many opportunities and so many different things that I could do that I'm getting overly excited I think. Currently I'm planning a trip to Indonesia, looking at moving to Argentina in July for a few months, and looking for jobs when I return to the US. It's so much to think about at one time, but I'm so overwhelmed with the freedom that I have. I can do anything I want! I can go anywhere in the world if I want! I have absolutely nothing holding me down (except my commitment to apply and attend medical school).
The dreams I have follow the same formula: I find myself in the United States somewhere and all of a sudden realize I need to get back to Thailand immediately.
One of the dreams had me at Del Rey Hills Church where I was meeting a bunch of old friends. They asked me how Thailand was and were surprised to see me back. I all of a sudden realized I had come back to the US too early and had to get back to Thailand.
I was back in Westchester when I realized I needed to get a flight back to Thailand immediately. I had a large backpack on and began running up El Manor then down Sepulveda towards the airport.
I just entered the LMU gym and passed by Garret Garton from some of my LMU classes. He was asking what I had been doing after graduation. I told him I was teaching in Thailand but I was back here for a little break, but then realized I had to get back and the dream ended.
Last night the dream came in two parts. First I made a surprise visit to my family who were living in futuristic apartment. I rang the doorbell and my Dad answered and unenthusiastically led me into the small main room where my Mom and brother were. They were all standing watching a small flat screen TV on the wall and were totally disinterested in me or the fact that I had just came back from Thailand. There was a large flight of wooden stairs leading up to a large wooden hut sort of building in the middle of a bunch of green fields. I was a the top when Paddy (the new science teacher) appeared and asked me what I was doing here. I all of sudden realized it was April and I had come back to the US way too early. "We've got to get back to Thailand now!", I shouted. I jumped in a para gliding device and we were wisped away.
Strange dreams. I would say they are a product of my recent research and planning for when I come home, but I didn't start that till lately and I've been having these dreams since I first arrived in Chiang Mai. I have so many opportunities and so many different things that I could do that I'm getting overly excited I think. Currently I'm planning a trip to Indonesia, looking at moving to Argentina in July for a few months, and looking for jobs when I return to the US. It's so much to think about at one time, but I'm so overwhelmed with the freedom that I have. I can do anything I want! I can go anywhere in the world if I want! I have absolutely nothing holding me down (except my commitment to apply and attend medical school).
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Freedom
What a weekend!
On Friday I went down with some coworkers to see the Umbrella Festival which featured shops covered in bright colored paper parasols and women dressed in traditional outfits carrying similar umbrellas down the street. Cameron and I walked the entire length of the street, then had an iced coffee and watched the umbrellas go by. We moved on to a shopping street where I grabbed a pork sausage stuffed with sticky rice off a street vendor for 10 Baht. It was so good.
On the way back up to the school I suddenly decided that I should take full advantage of my one day off. I had the driver drop me off at Airport Plaza, said goodbye to everyone, then hopped into the back of a pick up truck taxi (songtaew) and headed to Thae Pae Gate in the old city. I called Paula who was in town and we met up with Alila and hung out with a bunch of people at a rasta bar for awhile before getting dinner (25 Baht for a huge bowl of pork and noodle soup). Paula and I split off and went to a Jazz bar and watched some live Jazz performed by some students from Chiang Mai University. It was awesome. Killer guitarist.
Paula graciously let me stay at her apartment in town and then in the morning we got a bomb breakfast at my friend Took's place (40 Baht for 2 eggs, potatos and onions, and beans). We took Paula's moto up to Doi Suthep, the most famous temple at the top of the second highest mountain in Chiang Mai. After enjoying the temple we moto'd around the mountains and valleys for awhile before going to visit the Temple of 999 steps (it was definitely more). It was a great workout and the temple at the top offered a spectacular view.
Ahh. It was so nice to just get off the mountain for a bit, eat food off the street, do some of the touristy stuff, practice my Thai, and take plenty of 15 Baht Banana and coffee smoothies.
I've got to admit it's pretty fun to meet people in Thailand and answer "so how long are you traveling in Thailand?" with "oh, I'm not traveling, I live here". I've got the bank and insurance card to prove it!
On Friday I went down with some coworkers to see the Umbrella Festival which featured shops covered in bright colored paper parasols and women dressed in traditional outfits carrying similar umbrellas down the street. Cameron and I walked the entire length of the street, then had an iced coffee and watched the umbrellas go by. We moved on to a shopping street where I grabbed a pork sausage stuffed with sticky rice off a street vendor for 10 Baht. It was so good.
On the way back up to the school I suddenly decided that I should take full advantage of my one day off. I had the driver drop me off at Airport Plaza, said goodbye to everyone, then hopped into the back of a pick up truck taxi (songtaew) and headed to Thae Pae Gate in the old city. I called Paula who was in town and we met up with Alila and hung out with a bunch of people at a rasta bar for awhile before getting dinner (25 Baht for a huge bowl of pork and noodle soup). Paula and I split off and went to a Jazz bar and watched some live Jazz performed by some students from Chiang Mai University. It was awesome. Killer guitarist.
Paula graciously let me stay at her apartment in town and then in the morning we got a bomb breakfast at my friend Took's place (40 Baht for 2 eggs, potatos and onions, and beans). We took Paula's moto up to Doi Suthep, the most famous temple at the top of the second highest mountain in Chiang Mai. After enjoying the temple we moto'd around the mountains and valleys for awhile before going to visit the Temple of 999 steps (it was definitely more). It was a great workout and the temple at the top offered a spectacular view.
Ahh. It was so nice to just get off the mountain for a bit, eat food off the street, do some of the touristy stuff, practice my Thai, and take plenty of 15 Baht Banana and coffee smoothies.
I've got to admit it's pretty fun to meet people in Thailand and answer "so how long are you traveling in Thailand?" with "oh, I'm not traveling, I live here". I've got the bank and insurance card to prove it!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Alternating Current
In Faridabad, the power goes out quite frequently, at least a handful of times per night. One night the volunteers, Mama and Baba Ji, and some guests were gathered around the low table at night. This was early on in our trip and someone had asked me what my profession was. I told them I was a teacher and taught Math and Chemistry. No sooner had I said the word "chemistry" then the power died and the dim lighting that we had went completely out. When the lights go out at the ashram, it is literally pitch black because there are no other lights for miles around. To my surprise the conversation carried on in the complete darkness...
Someone spoke and the only words I could understand through the thick accent were "sodium" and "water". I said yes and silence ensued, only to be followed up with some Hindi. A moment later I heard the same sentence, and I just said yes. After about the 4th round of this, I finally understand someone was asking what happens when you mix sodium and water. Having understood the question, I told them that it explodes. "Sodium in water? Like bomb, boom!". It was such an awkward and random conversation that in the future, every time the lights went out I would wait a second and then say "sodium" and we'd all laugh.
-----
Rhymes needed batteries for his camera, but Deepu didn't seem to understand what exactly he needed or how to procure the item. I had seen them in a shack in town and so I decided to take matters into my own hands. A couple days earlier I had made a rather clever observation that Indian people sometimes don't understand English words unless you say them in an Indian accent, to which our Indian-American volunteer agreed. I walked up to the shack and pointed to the batteries hanging on the wall and said "doh batteries". The guy just looked at me. Sticking my jaw out I tried again: "Doh bahtehres". He instantly understood, reached back, and presented us with the batteries which were subsequently purchased. This became another one of our many running gags...
Someone spoke and the only words I could understand through the thick accent were "sodium" and "water". I said yes and silence ensued, only to be followed up with some Hindi. A moment later I heard the same sentence, and I just said yes. After about the 4th round of this, I finally understand someone was asking what happens when you mix sodium and water. Having understood the question, I told them that it explodes. "Sodium in water? Like bomb, boom!". It was such an awkward and random conversation that in the future, every time the lights went out I would wait a second and then say "sodium" and we'd all laugh.
-----
Rhymes needed batteries for his camera, but Deepu didn't seem to understand what exactly he needed or how to procure the item. I had seen them in a shack in town and so I decided to take matters into my own hands. A couple days earlier I had made a rather clever observation that Indian people sometimes don't understand English words unless you say them in an Indian accent, to which our Indian-American volunteer agreed. I walked up to the shack and pointed to the batteries hanging on the wall and said "doh batteries". The guy just looked at me. Sticking my jaw out I tried again: "Doh bahtehres". He instantly understood, reached back, and presented us with the batteries which were subsequently purchased. This became another one of our many running gags...
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Busy much?
January I work 25/26 days
February I work 27/29 days
This weekend I work 7am-11pm Saturday and Sunday.
I think I get a week off in March though, and I will find out by the end of this week I hope. If I get the time off I am strongly considering flying to Greece to hang out with some friends for 5 days. On the plus side it would be fun to see friends and Greece. On the downside it's 46,000 Baht just for the flight, and it's a long trip just to see friends for only 5 days. Decisions, decisions, decisions...
February I work 27/29 days
This weekend I work 7am-11pm Saturday and Sunday.
I think I get a week off in March though, and I will find out by the end of this week I hope. If I get the time off I am strongly considering flying to Greece to hang out with some friends for 5 days. On the plus side it would be fun to see friends and Greece. On the downside it's 46,000 Baht just for the flight, and it's a long trip just to see friends for only 5 days. Decisions, decisions, decisions...
Friday, January 4, 2008
Continued Stream of Consciousness
Every morning I was awoken by the head chef, and one time one of the cooking girls, standing over me with a cup of chai. Blind without my contacts, and dreary eyed I steadied my hands and slowly focused on slipping my index finger through the loop of the tea cup. Upon lifting the cup I tilted my head left slowly with a smile. Propped up on one hand I sipped my chai slowly, and then got back under the covers.
There is no translation for "thank you" in Hindi. Kindness is expected. One only need acknowledge service.
Everyday, families would come from the poor villages and donate clothes, food, and sweets to the orphanage. On my first day, one such family had arrived. I remarked to the man of the family that what he was doing was very good. He looked at me puzzled, and said something to the effect that this was normal; expected. He rather plainly stated that this is what everyone should be doing. People who say Hinduism is a selfish religion have never met a Hindu in their life.
Because the cafeteria does not open for another day, I had to fend for myself for the first time up in the mountains tonight. I went to a shack just outside the school and saw a fish sitting on a bowl of coals. I ate that fish and a large lump of sticky rice for 39 Baht. Ah, Thailand. One thing that I missed - interaction with women. The woman who sold me my fish was giddy to speak to me in English and Thai, giddy to offer me sticky rice, giddy to explain she had no beer, giddy that I denied the 1 baht change. I completely forgot how friendly Thais are. Indian hospitality is unmatched. Is the Thais ability to be personable their claim to fame?
I have a feeling that most of my greatest moments from India will seep into my memory beyond manual recollection. I imagine these memories will pop up randomly in conversation: "that reminds me of when I was in India..." and I look forward to that.
God is good. When I arrived in Chiang Mai I was given Alila. When I arrived in Laos, I, by seeming chance, befriended a well spoken Laotian who drove myself and my companion over an hour into Vientianne for free. Upon re-entering Chiang Mai I was at a total loss as to how to get back up the mountain. A coworker happened to have just got off another airplane and flagged me down across the baggage claim. She hailed a cab and we split the fare up the mountain. God is good. I make an effort to smile continuously.
I pray I never complain again.
Books I've read in the past 2 months: Jesus of Suburbia, Hot Zone, Yoga Sutra of Patanjali, Siddartha, Essays on the Gita, Passage through India, Job, John, and Acts. I forgot how enjoyable reading can be.
There is no translation for "thank you" in Hindi. Kindness is expected. One only need acknowledge service.
Everyday, families would come from the poor villages and donate clothes, food, and sweets to the orphanage. On my first day, one such family had arrived. I remarked to the man of the family that what he was doing was very good. He looked at me puzzled, and said something to the effect that this was normal; expected. He rather plainly stated that this is what everyone should be doing. People who say Hinduism is a selfish religion have never met a Hindu in their life.
Because the cafeteria does not open for another day, I had to fend for myself for the first time up in the mountains tonight. I went to a shack just outside the school and saw a fish sitting on a bowl of coals. I ate that fish and a large lump of sticky rice for 39 Baht. Ah, Thailand. One thing that I missed - interaction with women. The woman who sold me my fish was giddy to speak to me in English and Thai, giddy to offer me sticky rice, giddy to explain she had no beer, giddy that I denied the 1 baht change. I completely forgot how friendly Thais are. Indian hospitality is unmatched. Is the Thais ability to be personable their claim to fame?
I have a feeling that most of my greatest moments from India will seep into my memory beyond manual recollection. I imagine these memories will pop up randomly in conversation: "that reminds me of when I was in India..." and I look forward to that.
God is good. When I arrived in Chiang Mai I was given Alila. When I arrived in Laos, I, by seeming chance, befriended a well spoken Laotian who drove myself and my companion over an hour into Vientianne for free. Upon re-entering Chiang Mai I was at a total loss as to how to get back up the mountain. A coworker happened to have just got off another airplane and flagged me down across the baggage claim. She hailed a cab and we split the fare up the mountain. God is good. I make an effort to smile continuously.
I pray I never complain again.
Books I've read in the past 2 months: Jesus of Suburbia, Hot Zone, Yoga Sutra of Patanjali, Siddartha, Essays on the Gita, Passage through India, Job, John, and Acts. I forgot how enjoyable reading can be.
Blessed be the name of the Lord
On the back of a 1 hour motorcycle ride in freezing temperatures through the crowded traffic of India one has time to think. The front of my body completely pressed against the driver and my back side against our other passenger, the awkward uncomfortable feeling of being that close to two strangers had long since passed. It would be much longer before the feeling in my legs would return.
2 days prior I had found myself being whisked from temple to temple, from the Taj Mahal to the Agra Fort, and to Mathura. Thinking we were finally headed for home, we pulled up to another temple in Vrindaban, which turns out to be the birth place of Sri Krishna. We were lead into a white temple ablaze with song, dance, and warmth. "Hare Krishna hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, hare hare, hare Rama hare Rama, Rama Rama, hare hare!" My companion and I both burst into song as soon as we entered the holy place. "Let's go get darshan", I yelled over the music. We danced, we sang, young girls spun around clasping each other's hands. I bought a Bhagavad Gita. I bought 2 cheesy t-shirts. I bought a box of sweets to reward our driver and appease our exhausted friend, both of whom were sealed in the tiny car from the biting cold of the night. We made for home, and heeded the writing on the back of every truck "Blow Horn, Use Dipper at Night".
Rahul's moto took us to a large modern mall in the heart of Faridabad. "Will you take McDonald's?" I tilted my head to one side smoothly and he purchased a McAloo Tiki burger and Coke for me. Afterwards, "will you take ice cream?" Tilt. After that, "will you take corn?". I tilted and he continued to smile. 1 hour ago, and back when I still had warm blood in my lower extremities, my new friend had taken me into his village, and had me as his guest at his parents house. An Indian knows no greater honor than to show hospitality to a foreigner. [Read "Passage to India" if you don't believe me, I did.] I took chai and more cookies and spicy potato crisps than I wanted, but saw how it pleased them. "It's ok?" "Bohod atcha". They were thrilled with my Hindi and began to talk and laugh loudly with each other. Everyone from his family came to meet me, or just look at me. The week before I had been taken by another new friend and shown to everyone in the village he knew. I took tea or hot milk and sweets at every family's house I visited.
We left the mall and remounted the motorcycle. It must have been only one day past since we had been pulled into a car by the father of the orphanage, Baba Ji, and escorted to a park in the town of Pulwal with no explanation given. We were brought to a massive Puja where all the towns swamis had gathered. Orange linen were laid around our necks and we were brought to the center sacrificial fire. The most honored positions were given to us as pourers of the gi. "Swaha!", we shouted as we poured small teaspoons of gi into a massive bonfire. We were given pictures of all the great fathers of India and prasad in the form of a banana and a sweet mix of spices and thin potato crisps. Roses were sprinkled over us and a blessing was pronounced over us by the entire town's holy men. An article would be written about us the following day in the local paper. I kept the newspaper as a souvenir.
More as it comes. Facebook for images.
2 days prior I had found myself being whisked from temple to temple, from the Taj Mahal to the Agra Fort, and to Mathura. Thinking we were finally headed for home, we pulled up to another temple in Vrindaban, which turns out to be the birth place of Sri Krishna. We were lead into a white temple ablaze with song, dance, and warmth. "Hare Krishna hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, hare hare, hare Rama hare Rama, Rama Rama, hare hare!" My companion and I both burst into song as soon as we entered the holy place. "Let's go get darshan", I yelled over the music. We danced, we sang, young girls spun around clasping each other's hands. I bought a Bhagavad Gita. I bought 2 cheesy t-shirts. I bought a box of sweets to reward our driver and appease our exhausted friend, both of whom were sealed in the tiny car from the biting cold of the night. We made for home, and heeded the writing on the back of every truck "Blow Horn, Use Dipper at Night".
Rahul's moto took us to a large modern mall in the heart of Faridabad. "Will you take McDonald's?" I tilted my head to one side smoothly and he purchased a McAloo Tiki burger and Coke for me. Afterwards, "will you take ice cream?" Tilt. After that, "will you take corn?". I tilted and he continued to smile. 1 hour ago, and back when I still had warm blood in my lower extremities, my new friend had taken me into his village, and had me as his guest at his parents house. An Indian knows no greater honor than to show hospitality to a foreigner. [Read "Passage to India" if you don't believe me, I did.] I took chai and more cookies and spicy potato crisps than I wanted, but saw how it pleased them. "It's ok?" "Bohod atcha". They were thrilled with my Hindi and began to talk and laugh loudly with each other. Everyone from his family came to meet me, or just look at me. The week before I had been taken by another new friend and shown to everyone in the village he knew. I took tea or hot milk and sweets at every family's house I visited.
We left the mall and remounted the motorcycle. It must have been only one day past since we had been pulled into a car by the father of the orphanage, Baba Ji, and escorted to a park in the town of Pulwal with no explanation given. We were brought to a massive Puja where all the towns swamis had gathered. Orange linen were laid around our necks and we were brought to the center sacrificial fire. The most honored positions were given to us as pourers of the gi. "Swaha!", we shouted as we poured small teaspoons of gi into a massive bonfire. We were given pictures of all the great fathers of India and prasad in the form of a banana and a sweet mix of spices and thin potato crisps. Roses were sprinkled over us and a blessing was pronounced over us by the entire town's holy men. An article would be written about us the following day in the local paper. I kept the newspaper as a souvenir.
More as it comes. Facebook for images.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
