I’ve had some misgivings about this post, nay, downright embarrassment about even sharing this in full as best I can. Since this incident occurred, I’ve found myself unable to share the story in full more than once or twice. I’ve thought no, I can’t talk about that; I can’t blog that, I shouldn’t say that…
But it has also occurred to me that if I’m too chicken to share this story, how can I hope to speak for women who have been through much, much worse? I performed in the Vagina Monologues for crying out loud, and I’m performing in Memory, Monologue, Rant and a Prayer in early June. If I’m too embarrassed to talk about the time a taxi driver decided to hold my hand and suggest we get it on and my frantic evaluations of how to get out of the situation safely, what does that say for where women stand today?
Deep breathes. So here goes.
I was running late to meet a friend for coffee/tea what have you and conversation, and I had gotten caught up talking to another friend I ran into which put me extra late. I planned to grab a motorbike taxi, however upon examining the two moto spots near me, they were both deserted. I looked to the sky. Dark. Thunder. Storm coming. I could hoof it to the boat, but I’m unsure the sky will hold, and I’ll have to walk from the boat as well. Taxis were good shelter from the water fighting of Songkran (though I was traveling with a friend in that case), why not, just take a taxi.
Allow me to interject a few things here. First and foremost, that I’m still naïvely using my American logic. Silly me.
In my first two weeks here, I sat in the back of a taxi and was hit on and given the guys’ phone number. This incident was more endearing than irritating as it was the first and involved no inappropriate touching, just a lot of ill-advised I love you’s, a fare discount and a phone number on a slip of paper. As such, the idea of sitting in the back of the taxi or the front of the taxi being a factor in such matters did not occur to me. This happens to me one way or another.
The back seats of taxis do not have seatbelts. Being a silly American girl, I had taken to sitting in the front in order to have a seatbelt. Right. My mistake, as we’ll soon see.
Back to our story. I stood at the side of the road and hailed a taxi, I refuse to patronize the guys parked near my soi that never leave me alone. Their loss. I hail a pink cab, ask about my destination (though it’s illegal to refuse passengers, it happens all the time, I have particularly notorious luck in this matter as well), hop in the front seat and buckle my seatbelt.
We get driving and things seem fine at first. The rain comes, as expected. He asks my age, which nearly every Thai person asks for their age-structured social order, so I’m not phased. Then he starts with really bad broken English to ask if I have a boyfriend. Except he basically asks if there is a man I’m having relations with, complete with a lovely hand gesture and ‘squeaky, squeaky’ sound effects. Then he asks me if I have a baby. He asks this several times. “You, baby?” Uh dude, no. No baby. No. I already said no. Weirdo.
The rain is getting heavier, and as is typical of Bangkok, rain means everyone forgets how to drive and the city becomes a near parking lot. But we’re headed the right way, what else can you do?
We talk about the Thai word for rain, and wind, and I teach him the English words. Or attempt to any way. I say I’m a teacher. And then things start to get a little weird.
I’m a bit fuzzy on the full details now, I meant to write this down sooner. But basically he starts suggesting I be his boyfriend, in Thai, and really terrible broken English that doesn’t even have the same meaning. He starts telling me he loves me, and he wants me to say it back. I do the awkward smile, giggle, pretend you don’t understand through the language barrier defense. Considering I see his temper just below the surface, the benign clueless card seems most pertinent to play.
He wants my phone number. He again makes his lovely hand gesture, this time he says “You, me, squeaky squeaky” as he makes the crude hand rendition. Oh joy. I lost count of how many times he did this during the rest of the ride.
I assess the situation. We’ve got three lanes of traffic. We’re in the middle lane. Monsoon season has come early, this is a real doozy. This guy is being inappropriate, but he’s also operating the motor vehicle I’m in and I can sense his temper. If I get out of the cab, which is an option, I’m stepping into traffic and monsoon. Ok. Deep breathes, keep playing the clueless “I don’t understand what you mean” card. Get to your destination or some place you won’t step out into traffic and possibly get hit.
The rain gets worse, the traffic gets worse, my situation in the cab gets worse.
He starts reaching, grabbing and holding my hand.
Internal dialogue: You are kidding me. This is not really happening. WTF. Well, this will be an interesting story. Now how do I get out? How do I keep from pissing this guy off?
He keeps asking “No problem? No problem?” But just like his insistent and unyielding attempts to get me to say I love you, and be his girlfriend, and ‘squeaky, squeaky,’ he doesn’t take awkward giggle/demure attempt at reclaiming hand or no for an answer.
I’m constantly reassessing the situation but this awful scenario is just on repeat as the storm rages outside. “No problem? Squeaky squeaky? You, me? Something in Thai, frustrated huffing.
He wants my phone number. I tell him actually, my phone was just stolen, this is a friend’s, so I don’t have a new number yet. Phew. He gets a piece of paper and writes his phone number and name on it. Well, he gets me to write it. He gets me to promise over and over that I will call him. He’s still got my hand. I’ve wrestled it away once or twice, if I’m more forceful I think this guys’ gonna blow his top. He’s already on the verge of that. He’s still driving.
Internal dialogue: Ok, this is really inappropriate, this is not cool. The bastard has his report me placard turned backwards too! ARG! I don’t even know how to go about reporting him, nor do I have much faith in the Thai authorities, but bastard! Also it would blow my “my phone was stolen I don’t have a number to give you” to whip out a phone. Ok, so he already saw it and I told him it was my friend’s phone. Still, I should pretend I don’t know how to use it. Who would I call right now any way? I don’t have anyone’s number. I’m not sure why this is logical. This situation sucks. Wait…he’s not even going the right way. Where are we going? Oh crap I have bigger problems – and if I bail out now, which I am very close to doing, in the middle of moving traffic and torrential rain, will I be able to get another taxi to get some place safe? Keep from getting hit by a car? He’s very close to crossed that line. And then.
He takes my hand and puts it on his leg. I’m just gonna jump out of this damn cab. Oh buddy, if we were stationary right now, you are so close to my last straw, you don’t even have another millimeter to spare…He’s just started petting my arm, and locking his fingers around mine. The nail of his pinky index finger is about an inch long. He shows it off, he’s proud of it. I feel like vomiting. He’s motioning me to kiss him on the cheek. He’s drawing hearts on the steering wheel with his fingers. I reassess the rain and traffic for the umpteenth time. No, this still doesn’t justify the odds of getting hit by a car in our current traffic pattern. And if I smack him we’ll swerve…
Ok. He’s driving the right way now, a really long asinine I want to spend time with you way, but we’re going to my destination. The broken record of inappropriate has not let up. Get me out. Get me out. Get me out. He asks if I’m going shopping. Yes, sure, I’m going shopping. It’s none of his goddamn business, but it’s an easy enough ‘yes’ answer. He wants to go shopping with me. Could this get any more surreal? I insist no. He actually listens to that. I tell him I’m late to meet a friend. A girl. This fact, that I’m meeting a female, keeps him at bay. He continues to make me promise to call. He finally drops me off a ways off from my destination; he brought me the wrong way around. He knocks at least 50 baht off the fare. Good, he took me out of the way and was a total creep. I finally get out of the cab and bound off into the rain.
I meet my friend, and proceed to rant about what just happened. She informs me that if I were to hit a guy, the fine is only 500 baht, if he’s got the balls to take it to the police. If I’m faced with such a creep who is not driving me, in the middle of moving traffic lanes and a monsoon with a temper, that might be 500 baht very, very well spent. In the mean time, I’m almost eager for another creeper to harass me, so I can give this skeezy cab driver’s number to him. Payback is sweet.
When I talked to a couple of friends about this, I received the following responses:
“Well why were you wearing a seatbelt?”
“Why did you let him do that?”
“Yeah. It sucks because you shouldn’t have to worry about it. But, we do. You learn the longer you’ve been here.”
I would like to add I’ve had plenty of perfectly acceptable taxi experiences in Bangkok as well. I’ve even had a driver pull out a Thai/English phrase book once or twice and had appropriate language exchanges. It’s too bad when one person ruins it for everybody else. Ok, I get it, you sit in the back if you’re alone and female. You don’t get a seatbelt, just try to position yourself behind one of the front seats in case of a crash. You don’t talk besides discussing the destination, whether or not to take a highway and give the driver the toll money (accepted practice) at most. You have to be quiet, maybe even slightly bitchy. Or, you can fend off molestation attempts in the front. What really gets me, is the simple fact that of global destinations, Thailand is supposed to be one of the better ones for solo female travel.
I have never been so cognizant of my race and gender as I have been these past six months in Bangkok.
Showing posts with label taxi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label taxi. Show all posts
Monday, May 16, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
School’s Out for the Summer…ish
I have at least three rough drafts currently sitting in blog post purgatory, and much more I’ve written in various notebooks. And none of them seem right to post right now. So I’m going back to off the cuff today.
Summer ‘break’ is an interesting concept in Thai government schools. And let me preface by saying every school is slightly different, so the details of this account do not necessarily reflect other Thai schools. Standardization is not a large part of Thai culture, even though they sometimes try. Also of note – schools in Bangkok and schools outside of Bangkok are different species entirely.
Teachers are still required to come and sign in Monday-Friday during all school holidays (we are at least exempt on National holidays), and hang around for appearances, whether or not there is any work to do. The level of flexibility in this matter varies from school to school. At my school so far, actual hours at school can be adjusted since there is no class, no students, and paltry work to do if any for the time being. Foreign teachers are allowed 30 days ‘exemption’ from the daily sign in during school holidays without penalty in salary for each calendar school year, which restarts October 1st for some odd reason. Paperwork must be submitted well in advance for these pre-arranged absences from ‘work.’
I’m told other schools are not so flexible, and missing the sign in will incur loss of pay. Other schools are also stricter about actually staying the full 8 hours every day even in these weeks of sheer nothingness. I’ve been fortunate to fudge the sign in by 8AM rule quite a bit; though I’ll need to get back in gear when the students return in June. My German colleague and I also fudge the afternoon hours and leave early. We are often the only ones here besides the secretaries in the front room, as the foreigners have our own separate office. The others are currently using their 30 days, sick or signing in and bugging out entirely as they will not work here next year. Seems even continuing on you can get away with a day of sign in, bug out sometimes. I did on Wednesday.
As it seems the level of rigidity with the sign-in varies on a daily, weekly and annual (with the change of school directors) basis, I will not claim any of this is definitive. But then again, nothing in Thailand is definitive.
Over the course of this semester, I’ve found that if I’m sick, but I come in to teach my classes and sign my name, there isn’t a fuss about missing the other time I’m supposed to be in the office, whether morning or afternoon. But in such cases it was fairly obvious I was quite sick. This also hasn’t counted as a sick day, which thankfully my school allows many of, with the proper paperwork of course. Three days in a row requires a doctor’s note stating what was wrong. You will be told this in the most diplomatic way possible.
As great as it is to basically get paid to sit on facebook, it is kind of maddening when you are in a city that begs exploring and have to forgo opportunities to volunteer up north because you’re stuck playing school. I think I’ll finally make a dent in my reading list at least. Eventually I will be lesson planning for next school year, but of course deciding who is teaching which courses is not a priority right now, and I’m not lesson planning for a class I will not end up teaching, with 6 grade levels and at least four possible subjects, that’s a bit of a jump. Something tells me I will receive this information the day before classes resume.
Most every day I have some sort of reminder of how new I still am in Thailand. I’m still surprised by the racial whitewashing, the blatant anti-black sentiments and the pressure to be skinny that is 100 times worse than in the states, living in a fish bowl and being a walking photo-op.
For the record, a better answer to “you come Thailand alone?” is No. Come up with something. Some people that ask this will be impressed that you’ve moved abroad on your own. Most of them are asking if you are single. As I’ve stopped counting the number of taxi driver’s I’ve gotten this from, I’m quite fond of trying to decipher as many bus routes as possible.
Summer ‘break’ is an interesting concept in Thai government schools. And let me preface by saying every school is slightly different, so the details of this account do not necessarily reflect other Thai schools. Standardization is not a large part of Thai culture, even though they sometimes try. Also of note – schools in Bangkok and schools outside of Bangkok are different species entirely.
Teachers are still required to come and sign in Monday-Friday during all school holidays (we are at least exempt on National holidays), and hang around for appearances, whether or not there is any work to do. The level of flexibility in this matter varies from school to school. At my school so far, actual hours at school can be adjusted since there is no class, no students, and paltry work to do if any for the time being. Foreign teachers are allowed 30 days ‘exemption’ from the daily sign in during school holidays without penalty in salary for each calendar school year, which restarts October 1st for some odd reason. Paperwork must be submitted well in advance for these pre-arranged absences from ‘work.’
I’m told other schools are not so flexible, and missing the sign in will incur loss of pay. Other schools are also stricter about actually staying the full 8 hours every day even in these weeks of sheer nothingness. I’ve been fortunate to fudge the sign in by 8AM rule quite a bit; though I’ll need to get back in gear when the students return in June. My German colleague and I also fudge the afternoon hours and leave early. We are often the only ones here besides the secretaries in the front room, as the foreigners have our own separate office. The others are currently using their 30 days, sick or signing in and bugging out entirely as they will not work here next year. Seems even continuing on you can get away with a day of sign in, bug out sometimes. I did on Wednesday.
As it seems the level of rigidity with the sign-in varies on a daily, weekly and annual (with the change of school directors) basis, I will not claim any of this is definitive. But then again, nothing in Thailand is definitive.
Over the course of this semester, I’ve found that if I’m sick, but I come in to teach my classes and sign my name, there isn’t a fuss about missing the other time I’m supposed to be in the office, whether morning or afternoon. But in such cases it was fairly obvious I was quite sick. This also hasn’t counted as a sick day, which thankfully my school allows many of, with the proper paperwork of course. Three days in a row requires a doctor’s note stating what was wrong. You will be told this in the most diplomatic way possible.
As great as it is to basically get paid to sit on facebook, it is kind of maddening when you are in a city that begs exploring and have to forgo opportunities to volunteer up north because you’re stuck playing school. I think I’ll finally make a dent in my reading list at least. Eventually I will be lesson planning for next school year, but of course deciding who is teaching which courses is not a priority right now, and I’m not lesson planning for a class I will not end up teaching, with 6 grade levels and at least four possible subjects, that’s a bit of a jump. Something tells me I will receive this information the day before classes resume.
Most every day I have some sort of reminder of how new I still am in Thailand. I’m still surprised by the racial whitewashing, the blatant anti-black sentiments and the pressure to be skinny that is 100 times worse than in the states, living in a fish bowl and being a walking photo-op.
For the record, a better answer to “you come Thailand alone?” is No. Come up with something. Some people that ask this will be impressed that you’ve moved abroad on your own. Most of them are asking if you are single. As I’ve stopped counting the number of taxi driver’s I’ve gotten this from, I’m quite fond of trying to decipher as many bus routes as possible.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Stolen Moments on a School Computer
The internet is addictive, and I'm in withdrawal.
A tangential entry before "proctoring exams" resumes.
Today's dessert: bread cubes, plus a syrup resembling a runnier version of pepto-bismol and a cupful of ice. I ate the plain bread cubes, which puzzled my Thai colleagues - who urged me to pour on the pepto and ice. I proceeded to describe the main dish as delicious, and shake my head at the "dessert."
Since it's exam week, school lunch is a bit better than can usually be expected. Some sort of stir fried wide noodle, egg, pork or beef (most likely pork but I have no idea), some leafy green veggie and of course your options of fish sauce, granulated sugar, crushed red peppers and some sort of vinegar with larger chillies. These four condiments are like salt and pepper in the states, present with nearly every meal. Depending on the meal there are a myriad of other assorted condiments as well (such as lemon or lime juice, or extra pepto for today's dessert).
"Balloon angioplasty" was on my M.3's health exam today. M.3 is 9th grade. Other highlights: hypoglycemia, hyperglycemia, diabetes, pectorial angina (sp?) and other things I'm sure are reserved for college courses or vocational medical training in the states. Well, I suppose we talked about diabetes sooner.
Today I sampled the delights of a Fanta soda slightly darker than antifreeze, that brought up a nostalgia for some unknown artificial flavor from elementary school fundraising carnivals and the state fairs of childhood. A plate of coca-cola, one green and one orange (or pink?) fanta, all brimming with ice, was brought around to the exam rooms for the teachers. I've been trying to avoid soda, but graciousness and my curiosity for the green stuff overcame that. Proctoring the exams has meant little more than passing and collecting papers, signing my initials various places, sitting and reading a book at the head of class. I'm thankful for my upstairs neighbor's generosity loaning me Love in the Time of Cholera, which is not something I would have picked up on my own, but I'm finding an addicting read. Though as it's set in the Caribbean and is translated to English from the original Spanish, I find myself craving good Mexican food - though the book has little to do with Mexico itself as far as I can tell.
Yesterday I received my first letter! I have not published my address because it is six lines long and I've been uncertain about what order to write the names of various districts - as here postal code includes county, district and subdistrict on top of everything else, and names here are all at least 4 syllables long. Postal mail has lost its charm in the states (for me at least), where I came to dread tripping over the leaflets of junk mail in my studio with a mail slot and would sometimes go a week without checking my mail box in my most recent apartment for dread of the stupid flyers - especially the pizza ads, I mean honestly. Here, no junk mail, not even a mailbox - literally my first piece of post in two months. And it was glorious. I was skipping around outside the apartment building, I was certain the landlords thought I was crazy.
Also discovered you cannot run the shower and the air conditioner at the same time in my apartment - the air conditioner and the water heater are both too energy intensive. Though I'm surprised I didn't figure this out sooner, and thankful that the electricity turning off did not stop the water itself - since I was mid shower at that juncture. The people that run my apartment building are great, and the girl at the office just kind of laughed when I came down in pajamas with my wet hair wrapped in a towel and asked "were you in the shower? was the air conditioner on?" Oh. Duh. Mai pen rai, mai pen rai - a phrase I've come to loathe and use frequently, often sounds more like mai bel lai - should be printed on the money (thought that's the place for the King) - don't worry, don't worry. Thankfully, we have old school breakers (just like the computer lab!) so it only took the flip of a switch to correct.
I am now the proud owner of a microwave oven. I will not even elaborate on the full scope of operation microwave - I have one now. I finally purchased one at Tesco Lotus - the Thai version of Walmart, and trucked out to hail a taxi with my arms full of microwave, toilet paper, and a few other necessary items - including a pole for a shower curtain. Not really the best planning, but it's difficult to set up an apartment when the greatest limiting factor is how much you can carry in one trip (and the finances, but that will be a post in it of itself much later) - and how willing you are to sit in traffic again for another venture.
I've also discovered that some of the best pronunciation coaches are cab drivers - most of them are friendly enough and are anxious to help you learn if you are making an effort, though as anything else that can't be made as a blanket statement. Free Thai lesson for the price of the cab ride that was necessary to transport a microwave (I'm all about using the bus over a taxi, but I'm not that delusional).
An afternoon of reading, I mean proctoring awaits, and my favorite activity of trying to get answers in the land of Mai Pen Rai, Mai Pen Rai. No word on the progress of my computer yet; I'm thinking they shipped it to Singapore to the Apple Repair Hub of Asia.
Paperwork, miscommunication, and "that's not my fault," here at school - because trying to get a direct answer is presuming the person you're asking is at fault - and just like all criticism is done via third party gossip to allow everyone to keep face - answers must play telephone, which gets quite confusing with the translation gap on top of it, especially when more than half the parties involved don't speak English, and the answer is not at all clear to begin with. What on earth am I talking about? You'll have to wait until I myself, know that answer; and even then, I'll only have a ghost print of the true story.
A tangential entry before "proctoring exams" resumes.
Today's dessert: bread cubes, plus a syrup resembling a runnier version of pepto-bismol and a cupful of ice. I ate the plain bread cubes, which puzzled my Thai colleagues - who urged me to pour on the pepto and ice. I proceeded to describe the main dish as delicious, and shake my head at the "dessert."
Since it's exam week, school lunch is a bit better than can usually be expected. Some sort of stir fried wide noodle, egg, pork or beef (most likely pork but I have no idea), some leafy green veggie and of course your options of fish sauce, granulated sugar, crushed red peppers and some sort of vinegar with larger chillies. These four condiments are like salt and pepper in the states, present with nearly every meal. Depending on the meal there are a myriad of other assorted condiments as well (such as lemon or lime juice, or extra pepto for today's dessert).
"Balloon angioplasty" was on my M.3's health exam today. M.3 is 9th grade. Other highlights: hypoglycemia, hyperglycemia, diabetes, pectorial angina (sp?) and other things I'm sure are reserved for college courses or vocational medical training in the states. Well, I suppose we talked about diabetes sooner.
Today I sampled the delights of a Fanta soda slightly darker than antifreeze, that brought up a nostalgia for some unknown artificial flavor from elementary school fundraising carnivals and the state fairs of childhood. A plate of coca-cola, one green and one orange (or pink?) fanta, all brimming with ice, was brought around to the exam rooms for the teachers. I've been trying to avoid soda, but graciousness and my curiosity for the green stuff overcame that. Proctoring the exams has meant little more than passing and collecting papers, signing my initials various places, sitting and reading a book at the head of class. I'm thankful for my upstairs neighbor's generosity loaning me Love in the Time of Cholera, which is not something I would have picked up on my own, but I'm finding an addicting read. Though as it's set in the Caribbean and is translated to English from the original Spanish, I find myself craving good Mexican food - though the book has little to do with Mexico itself as far as I can tell.
Yesterday I received my first letter! I have not published my address because it is six lines long and I've been uncertain about what order to write the names of various districts - as here postal code includes county, district and subdistrict on top of everything else, and names here are all at least 4 syllables long. Postal mail has lost its charm in the states (for me at least), where I came to dread tripping over the leaflets of junk mail in my studio with a mail slot and would sometimes go a week without checking my mail box in my most recent apartment for dread of the stupid flyers - especially the pizza ads, I mean honestly. Here, no junk mail, not even a mailbox - literally my first piece of post in two months. And it was glorious. I was skipping around outside the apartment building, I was certain the landlords thought I was crazy.
Also discovered you cannot run the shower and the air conditioner at the same time in my apartment - the air conditioner and the water heater are both too energy intensive. Though I'm surprised I didn't figure this out sooner, and thankful that the electricity turning off did not stop the water itself - since I was mid shower at that juncture. The people that run my apartment building are great, and the girl at the office just kind of laughed when I came down in pajamas with my wet hair wrapped in a towel and asked "were you in the shower? was the air conditioner on?" Oh. Duh. Mai pen rai, mai pen rai - a phrase I've come to loathe and use frequently, often sounds more like mai bel lai - should be printed on the money (thought that's the place for the King) - don't worry, don't worry. Thankfully, we have old school breakers (just like the computer lab!) so it only took the flip of a switch to correct.
I am now the proud owner of a microwave oven. I will not even elaborate on the full scope of operation microwave - I have one now. I finally purchased one at Tesco Lotus - the Thai version of Walmart, and trucked out to hail a taxi with my arms full of microwave, toilet paper, and a few other necessary items - including a pole for a shower curtain. Not really the best planning, but it's difficult to set up an apartment when the greatest limiting factor is how much you can carry in one trip (and the finances, but that will be a post in it of itself much later) - and how willing you are to sit in traffic again for another venture.
I've also discovered that some of the best pronunciation coaches are cab drivers - most of them are friendly enough and are anxious to help you learn if you are making an effort, though as anything else that can't be made as a blanket statement. Free Thai lesson for the price of the cab ride that was necessary to transport a microwave (I'm all about using the bus over a taxi, but I'm not that delusional).
An afternoon of reading, I mean proctoring awaits, and my favorite activity of trying to get answers in the land of Mai Pen Rai, Mai Pen Rai. No word on the progress of my computer yet; I'm thinking they shipped it to Singapore to the Apple Repair Hub of Asia.
Paperwork, miscommunication, and "that's not my fault," here at school - because trying to get a direct answer is presuming the person you're asking is at fault - and just like all criticism is done via third party gossip to allow everyone to keep face - answers must play telephone, which gets quite confusing with the translation gap on top of it, especially when more than half the parties involved don't speak English, and the answer is not at all clear to begin with. What on earth am I talking about? You'll have to wait until I myself, know that answer; and even then, I'll only have a ghost print of the true story.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
I'm here!
So, I have arrived safely in Bangkok. I slept a lot. My host met me at the airport, and we climbed into a Malibu Barbie pink taxi for the trip to her home. I ended up with two checked suitcases, a carry on suitcase and my laptop bag. All within weight of course. Winks, looks left, looks right...phew. No one double checking bag weight.
Upon seeing my bags, which I must say yes I packed too much, but not bad all things considered, my host proclaimed, "Why you bring so much clothes? Clothes are cheap in Thailand!" Oh well. Maybe at some point I can take the traveler's advice I read somewhere for lightening the load: sell your jeans.
I tried some new fruit - longkong. The outside skin looks like very small potatoes, you cut the skin and peel it off. Inside are 5 or 6 clear white citrus sections. It is sweet, not sour, and has seeds you need to spit out - about one seed per section.
I am staying with my host, and I feel very spoiled because she had air conditioning installed in my bedroom (and her bedroom also, less guilt) before I arrived to make sure I would be comfortable. She was worried about Americans not being used to the heat in Bangkok. I must say, I greatly appreciate it. I think that also means I'll just stay here for awhile, sounds good to me. The bathroom is a lot like the one in my apartment in Italy - water gets everywhere when you shower. Also excited - western toilet. You cannot flush toilet paper, you place it in the trash.
This morning we went to my host's temple to make merit. On the way she purchased food from a vendor to give to the monks. Apparently, the vendor was surprised that I was American - they expected Americans to be more fat. At the temple we took off our shoes and placed the food in bowls the monks had. We placed the bowls on a towel (you can't hand things to monks directly as a female), and poured water from a silver vessel into a silver bowl while the monk prayed. My host then took the water in the bowl and threw it on a tree outside. She explained the food and throwing the water on the tree was to honor deceased relatives.
On our walk to and from the temple there were many dogs. Apparently stray dogs are quite a problem, and my host sometimes carries a stick to hit them if they try to attack her. Noted. Near the temple there were also several roosters roaming about, I think they belong to the temple and don't roam the city quite as freely as dogs. I saw one Siamese kitten begging by the food stand. I refrained from petting her, but she was cute. The food vendor said she is hungry. I suppose if I were a street kitten in Bangkok, I'd hang out by the grilling fish and chicken too.
My host has given me the text books for the classes I will be teaching. I'll look over them some more, but it seems pretty straight forward. Apparently a different foreign teacher taught computers last semester and didn't like it. I'm to talk with him about what the students learned last semester.
I've learned that this school has several foreign teachers, from the following countries: Germany, Holland, South Africa and England. I will be the token American. According to my host, some of these teachers are quite interested to meet me. My impression is that all of the foreign teachers are in their 20s, three are male and one is female. I suppose if nothing else, I can help the gender balance.
I will have about 32 students in my classes, which is a little better than the source I read that said I could have 40 students. Classes are 50 minutes long. School begins at 8 am. My host lives far from the school, and Bangkok traffic is terrible. She says we will wake up at 5 am to get ready, and leave at 6 am to get to school on time. I'm definitely glad I brought my travel alarm clock. I may have to develop a coffee habit - or at least a strong tea habit.
My host helped, and basically did a load of laundry for me. The washing machine is definitely different - it has two tanks, one for wash and one for spin. It has text in Arabic on it as well as Thai and English. A pipe for draining broke some time back, so water just drains across the floor. As I expected we hang laundry to dry in the sun.
We've watched a little TV, including some Korean pop music videos, a Thai Zodiac game show, and a fair bit of some sort of Christian sermon and Christian kids show in English. I have to say I liked what I can only compare to MTV featuring Asian pop best. I think they call it 'Bang.'
I have plenty more stories already, but I need to go and eat. I think we are also going to a mall later. Not sure. Tomorrow I will be opening a Thai bank account so the school can pay me. Sometime in the next week or so I will get a Thai cell phone. My host said she might have a student take me to go get it - I'm not sure if she means middle school student or a university student, since this school is affiliated with a university. I think maybe university student? I guess I'll find out.
My host has also mentioned inviting my students' families to host me for a weekend outing-advertising my help with English in exchange for sight seeing. Sounds good to me. OK, I'm off to try roti - which is Indian and her neighbor just brought home with her from her vacation. Also is mentioned in the book Sold. I'll report back on what it is like.
Upon seeing my bags, which I must say yes I packed too much, but not bad all things considered, my host proclaimed, "Why you bring so much clothes? Clothes are cheap in Thailand!" Oh well. Maybe at some point I can take the traveler's advice I read somewhere for lightening the load: sell your jeans.
I tried some new fruit - longkong. The outside skin looks like very small potatoes, you cut the skin and peel it off. Inside are 5 or 6 clear white citrus sections. It is sweet, not sour, and has seeds you need to spit out - about one seed per section.
I am staying with my host, and I feel very spoiled because she had air conditioning installed in my bedroom (and her bedroom also, less guilt) before I arrived to make sure I would be comfortable. She was worried about Americans not being used to the heat in Bangkok. I must say, I greatly appreciate it. I think that also means I'll just stay here for awhile, sounds good to me. The bathroom is a lot like the one in my apartment in Italy - water gets everywhere when you shower. Also excited - western toilet. You cannot flush toilet paper, you place it in the trash.
This morning we went to my host's temple to make merit. On the way she purchased food from a vendor to give to the monks. Apparently, the vendor was surprised that I was American - they expected Americans to be more fat. At the temple we took off our shoes and placed the food in bowls the monks had. We placed the bowls on a towel (you can't hand things to monks directly as a female), and poured water from a silver vessel into a silver bowl while the monk prayed. My host then took the water in the bowl and threw it on a tree outside. She explained the food and throwing the water on the tree was to honor deceased relatives.
On our walk to and from the temple there were many dogs. Apparently stray dogs are quite a problem, and my host sometimes carries a stick to hit them if they try to attack her. Noted. Near the temple there were also several roosters roaming about, I think they belong to the temple and don't roam the city quite as freely as dogs. I saw one Siamese kitten begging by the food stand. I refrained from petting her, but she was cute. The food vendor said she is hungry. I suppose if I were a street kitten in Bangkok, I'd hang out by the grilling fish and chicken too.
My host has given me the text books for the classes I will be teaching. I'll look over them some more, but it seems pretty straight forward. Apparently a different foreign teacher taught computers last semester and didn't like it. I'm to talk with him about what the students learned last semester.
I've learned that this school has several foreign teachers, from the following countries: Germany, Holland, South Africa and England. I will be the token American. According to my host, some of these teachers are quite interested to meet me. My impression is that all of the foreign teachers are in their 20s, three are male and one is female. I suppose if nothing else, I can help the gender balance.
I will have about 32 students in my classes, which is a little better than the source I read that said I could have 40 students. Classes are 50 minutes long. School begins at 8 am. My host lives far from the school, and Bangkok traffic is terrible. She says we will wake up at 5 am to get ready, and leave at 6 am to get to school on time. I'm definitely glad I brought my travel alarm clock. I may have to develop a coffee habit - or at least a strong tea habit.
My host helped, and basically did a load of laundry for me. The washing machine is definitely different - it has two tanks, one for wash and one for spin. It has text in Arabic on it as well as Thai and English. A pipe for draining broke some time back, so water just drains across the floor. As I expected we hang laundry to dry in the sun.
We've watched a little TV, including some Korean pop music videos, a Thai Zodiac game show, and a fair bit of some sort of Christian sermon and Christian kids show in English. I have to say I liked what I can only compare to MTV featuring Asian pop best. I think they call it 'Bang.'
I have plenty more stories already, but I need to go and eat. I think we are also going to a mall later. Not sure. Tomorrow I will be opening a Thai bank account so the school can pay me. Sometime in the next week or so I will get a Thai cell phone. My host said she might have a student take me to go get it - I'm not sure if she means middle school student or a university student, since this school is affiliated with a university. I think maybe university student? I guess I'll find out.
My host has also mentioned inviting my students' families to host me for a weekend outing-advertising my help with English in exchange for sight seeing. Sounds good to me. OK, I'm off to try roti - which is Indian and her neighbor just brought home with her from her vacation. Also is mentioned in the book Sold. I'll report back on what it is like.
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