Window Dressings

Room with a view...and a zoo.

I opened my bedroom window yesterday morning only to be greeted by a small snake wound around the security grate and climbing vines. Up to now, a variety of birds, insects, and lizards have been the usual characters to take up residence at my window. But this reptile was different: about 1/4 meter (8-10 inches) long, with very distinctive white coloring with black stripes or bands running around it's head and girth. I usually don't think of snakes as beautiful, but this one came close with it's pure white skin and delicate thin black bands. For lack of a name, I dubbed my new resident the "zebra snake."

It was quite shy, and after taking a brief look at me, disappeared in a niche between the window and the frame (slight shudder: did that niche connect to inside the house somewhere?).

This morning before school, my friend, Au, stopped by to say "hello" (OK, to say "Sawadee khrap"). Au teaches fourth grade students at the local elementary school, and is quite limited in his English. I described my little zebra snake in detail to him (yeah, I know my colors and shapes in the Thai tongue by now).

I waited a full minute while he searched his data bank for the proper English words, and then gave up in exasperation. OK, looks like I was to get the dramatic version: He bugged his eyes, grabbed his throat, rolled his eyes back into his head, staggered backwards until he fell onto the sofa, then kicked his legs, and flailed his arms like in an epileptic seizure. Finally, he went limp with his tongue hanging out.

I clapped in appreciation. Bravo! What a show! Mission accomplished, Au jumped up and took his bow with a smile of satisfaction.

Wonder what he was trying to say?

Side Bar: Rubbing Shoulders with Expats

Hi from Thailand!

One of the great delights of living in Thailand is the expatriate or "expat" community. Every day I can practice my high school French with the French professors (we have five in our dept.--and I love watching them cringe at my efforts), in addition to chatting with Canadian, Austrian, Israeli, Filipino, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Japanese and Korean instructors. There are about 50 foreign teachers here, in all, which makes for a veritable cornucopia of cultural delights. Having traveled or worked in all their countries gives me a special bond with them.

Even more fun, a very active expat Internet site keeps me in close touch with Brits and Australians living here, as well. We interact often. I've come to really appreciate their "stiff upper lip," "buck-up mate!" and dry humor they are so famous for. I'm learning a lot of new (or old?) English words I never knew existed (all decent, of course).

Here is a great story currently circulating among my British friends in Thailand, great sports lovers of English Cricket and Soccer (which, of course, the latter they misguidedly call "football")...

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NEWS ITEM---

SYDNEY (AP):

A seven-year-old boy was at the centre of a Parramatta, New South Wales courtroom drama yesterday when he challenged a court ruling over who should have custody of him.

The boy has a history of being beaten by his parents and the judge initially awarded custody to his aunt, in keeping with child custody law and regulations requiring that family unity be maintained to the degree possible.

The boy surprised the court when he proclaimed that his aunt beat him more than his parents and he adamantly refused to live with her. When the judge then suggested that he live with his grandparents, the boy cried out that they also beat him.

After considering the remainder of the immediate family and learning that domestic violence was apparently a way of life among them, the judge took the unprecedented step of allowing the boy to propose who should have custody of him.

After two recesses to check legal references and confer with child welfare officials, the judge granted temporary custody to the English Cricket Team, whom the boy firmly believes are not capable of beating anyone.

Thai Province Declared Disaster Area

Thai students in tuxedos at formal cocktail party

to welcome the official start of winter.

To my friends in the USA, China, and Japan,

Please remember us during this traumatic, disastrous event to hit Thailand, only two years after the tsunami.

See the below excerpt from a news article in the Bangkok Post. Be sure to see the temperature conversion at the bottom to get the full impact of this terrifying and relentless onslaught of Old Man Winter in Thailand.

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"Chiang Rai declared a disaster area as temperatures plummet
Plunging temperatures have prompted local authorities in Chiang Rai
to declare the province a disaster area.

"Temperatures in Chiang Rai have dropped and will continue to do so
until Jan 20, he said.

"Yesterday morning, the temperature was measured at 12.7 degrees Celsius in the town of Chiang Rai and nine degrees at Doi Tung mountain, said Mr Kittirat."

Link to Bangkok Post article:
http://www.bangkokpost.com/191206_News/19Dec2006_news21.php

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Here's the scoop for Farenheit temperatures:
12.7 degrees Celcius = 55 degrees Farenheit
9 degrees Celcius = 48 degrees Farenheit

Essentially, this disaster means the Thais will have to start wearing socks, a long-sleeved shirt, and (God forbid) an undershirt!

Last night, my town got down to 11 Celcius (52 Farenheit), so I guess we qualify for Federal Aid too. Of course, all of the above are midnight-to-4 a.m. temperatures. Nobody mentions that the days still warm up to 84 degrees Farenheit.

From My Hardship Post in Thailand,
JD

The Cost of Home Maintenance

The lady who owns a cow across the street from me comes by once a month to negotiate about cutting all the grass on my long plot beside the house (1.5m X 20m), to feed to her cow. Each time, I hem and haw, but then reluctantly agree not to charge her for the grass.

She pulls out her little sickle, slaves away for about an hour, and walks away with a cart-load of grass and a Cheshire Cat grin, thinking she's pulled one over the farang (foreigner), for another month in a row.

Ya gotta love this country.

Ham 'n' Eggs

Well, not a very profound post after a long hiatus (sorry, readers--it's been a long, hard semester), but at least another honest insight into the life of an expat. After three years of being satisfied with sticky-rice, noodles or yogurt milk for breakfast, I woke up this monsoon rainy morning thinking: "Ham and Eggs" (and, if possible, country-style skillet-fried potatoes, with toast, butter, jam, and a hot mocha espresso). Where, oh where, in NE Central Thailand among the rice fields and water bufallo?

READ MORE...

I then remembered a little hole-in-the-wall cafe about 100 meters from the school entrance road. It is reported that the cook once worked at the British Expat Club in Bangkok. "He actually uses white wine in his white spaghetti sauce!" is the tantalizing rumor on the street. That was enough for me. I dressed in my quick-dry clothes (T-shirt, cut-offs & flip-flop shoes) and made a beeline through the heavy, warm rain on my little trusty Honda motorbike.

Arriving, I noticed a couple of other foreign teachers (good sign, I thought), and some English-language National Geographics on a bookshelf (another good sign). Since no waiter/waitress appeared, I made my way back to the kitchen to place my order. There stood a 6-foot (two-meter) heavy-set bearded Thai cook, cigarette dangling out of his mouth, frying something in a skillet--which looked vaguely western. OK, ignore the cigarette ashes flying around the stove, ignore the dirty T-shirt spanning his beer-belly, I'M going to have my Western Breakfast!! I made a few "oink-oink" and hen-cackling noises, and I think he got the idea.

In 10 minutes, there appeared at my little wood table a plate which floated right out of Sawan (Thai for "heaven"). Eggs sunny side up, pan-fried spuds with onions, a slice of ham, and two pieces of toast with a side of butter and marmalade. To top it off, a demi-tasse arrived with steaming-hot mocha to complete the picture I had only dreamed of up until now. I pretended the cigarette ashes were flecks of ground black pepper spicing up my entree. No, I taste it...it really IS black pepper! After falling down to the wet tile floor, and gratefully kissing the big dirty toes of my Thai cook, I jumped into my plate like a starved mad-man who just escaped a Thai prison. Heaven, indeed.

After the last lick of my plate and a couple of satisfied burps, the bottom line: The cost for this taste of Sawan? About $1.25. Arghh! Too expensive! Back to my sticky-rice or noodles tomorrow morning (45-cents). But surely, it will be worth saving up for another taste of heaven, a few months down the road.

Some things are worth the sacrifice.

Why (I Think) I Understand Thai-Isaan Students...

From day one, I felt I had an unusually good rapport with my upcountry students--most of them from poor rural villages. The light just dawned on me today. We actually had very similar childhoods, albeit 35 years apart. Maybe the bamboo shed in the picture is not a good parallel to my childhood Seattle-area home, but the some of the cultural similarities sure ring a bell. I just received this little article in my email today, and reading through it, I was struck by the similarities between my upbringing and current life and culture in Isan. I, too, ask with the author of the following article: Was it "really all that bad?"

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Were you a kid in the "Fifties" or so? Everybody makes fun of our childhood. Comedians joke. Grandkids snicker. Twenty-Somethings shudder and say "Eeeew!" But was our childhood really all that bad? Judge for yourself:

In 1953 the US population was less than 150 million. Yet you knew more people then, and knew them better ...

And that was good.
[Isan: Everyone knows their neighbor and their neighbor's business]


The average annual salary was under $3,000. Yet, our parents could put some of it away for a rainy day and still live a decent life.

And that was good.
[Isan: I'm always amazed at how far a baht can go in Isan.]


A loaf of bread cost about 15 cents...but it was safe for a five-year-old to skate to the store and buy one...

And that was good.
[Isan: Kids securely play and travel long distances without worries.]


Prime-time TV meant I Love Lucy, Ozzie and Harriet, Gunsmoke and Lassie. Nobody ever heard of ratings or filters...

And that was good.
[Thai soap operas: You can hug, but can't kiss on the public airwaves.]


We didn't have air-conditioning...So the windows stayed up and half a dozen mothers ran outside when you fell off your bike.

And that was good.
[Isan: My first motorbike spill was attended by half the town.]


Your teacher was either Miss Matthews, Mrs. Logan or Mr. Adkins. But not Ms. Becky or Mr. Dan.

And that was good.
[Isan: Always the word "Ajarn" precedes your name, which is a term of high honor.]


The only hazardous material you knew about was a patch of grassburrs around the light pole at the corner.

And that was good.
[Isan: In Isan's dusty air, I've inhaled and ingested more dirt than I can estimate. I think it's fat-free. Is that good?]


You loved to climb into a fresh bed ... because sheets were dried outside on the clothesline.

And that was good.
[Isan: I know of no one with a mechanical clothes dryer. Why have one, when a bedsheet will dry in 15 minutes in the tropical sun?]


People generally lived in the same hometown with their relatives. So "child care" meant grandparents or aunts and uncles.

And that was good.
[Isan: The person you meet in the street is only one or two relational steps away from your boss, your co-worker or your landlady. Ergo: You better to be nice to everyone. ]


Parents were respected and their rules were law. Children did not talk back.

And that was good.
[Isan: That's still the unwritten law of the land, here.]


TV was in black-and-white. But all outdoors was in glorious color ...

And that was certainly good.
[Isan: TV is popular, but only at night. Kids actually play outside all day here.]


Your dad knew how to adjust everybody's carburetor...and the dad next door knew how to adjust all the TV knobs...

And that was very good.
[Isan: I use very few "professionals" for fixit jobs. Someone I know, or someone who knows someone always comes to the rescue.]


Your grandma grew snap beans in the back yard...and chickens behind the garage .

And that was definitely good.
[Isan: Your author now grows chili bushes outside his bedroom window, and a cow resides across the lane. Is that close enough?]

And just when you were about to do something really bad, chances were you'd run into your dad's high school coach ... or the nosy old lady from up the street...or your little sister's piano teacher ... or somebody from church--ALL of whom knew your parents' phone number and YOUR first name .

And even THAT was good!

[Isan: Being a farang, you stand out anyway. Better mind your P's and Q's. Word travels fast in Isan. Yes, that does have it's good side, such as when you need to find things like a new apartment, a motorbike part, or a new friend! ]