1) Immigration will need to see your original University Diploma. Yes, original. Yes, I'm serious. Really really. If you're told you don't need this, either they aren't getting you the right visa and you're not working fully legally or they've got strings to pull. This, is also not unusual but to get a one year teaching visa, you NEED your real diploma with you. Whether or not the policy is new, the enforcement has scaled up exponentially.
2) Female teachers must wear skirts in Thai schools. Internationals vary.
3) Do not be surprised when Immigration questions the legitimacy of your actual, legitimate passport. Also yes really. No advice on this one, just be prepared. If you ever deal with a police officer that claims a document of yours is fake, demand to go to the police station. It's possible the cop is fake, or just scamming. Asserting your rights to go to the station gets them off your back.
4) When applying for a Work Visa, never wear jeans to Immigration. When applying for a tourist extension, always wear jeans to Immigration. Or other touristy but not too obnoxious outfit. Don't wear sandals. Your approval or denial can hinge on how you are dressed.
5) What bank you use will be determined by the school where you work. There are no fuzzy lines blurring banking and education whatsoever, at all. *cough* Many banks will not give you an account without a work permit. This also varies by branch, bank, and mood of who you talk to.
6) Murphy's law requires that you will be seen by the same woman every trip to Immigration, and she hates your guts and thinks you're a teenage dirtbag even when you're in your mid 20s. That or she really just loves enforcing her rule book of logical procedures.
7) Visa runs are like changing the oil in your car. Completely normal procedure. If you start to get worried that going on a visa run is shady, you're in the wrong country. Oil change for your passport.
8) Don't even try to use PayPal abroad as an American, make sure your banking institution is not going to dump you because of the Patriot Act when you move abroad, and yes, you do have to file your US taxes both federal and state and maintain a US address (not P.O. Box) even if you don't have to pay any, you can't file electronically if you earn foreign wages, and you will find new reasons to hate the IRS you never dreamed of. Thank you, Patriot Act renewal and additions. They do give expats an automatic month extension to file taxes. Also realize any non-Thai cards incur a 150 baht ATM withdrawal fee for every transaction. Get a card that refunds fees if you cannot get a Thai card; or withdraw in maximum chunks to go awhile at a time. Also, many Thai banks will only withdraw from your savings account and not checking, because personal checking does not exist here. Be aware of this when choosing ATMs, it might take from your savings or simply say it cannot handle your foreign card.
9) Realize there is a very good chance you may be the only American at your work place. Some places are full of Americans, but I'm on my second job as the lone Yankee on staff. Be prepared for as much or more culture shock from this as from Thai culture.
10) Don't believe the myth that American automatically means better. My thieving, fake plane ticket issuing travel agent was US based. There is a travel agent here in Bangkok that never steers me wrong traveling in Asia, and I have found a more reliable US agent for flights back home. Do your homework.
And PLEASE, don't tie your shoes to the outside of your pack in a country where feet and shoes are reviled, and when all else fails, there is a large Leo beer and a Mai Pen Rai with your name on it.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
It’s Been an Eventful Couple of Weeks
I’m sitting in an Irish pub near Sala Daeng station, drinking 7-up and enjoying a live band. I’m embarrassed to say that at first I thought the guy’s voice was coming from the female vocalist. But surely I can’t be blamed considering where I am. I did think she was very, very pretty to be a lady boy.
Tomorrow I start my first day at my new job, so I’m celebrating with Irish stew. There’s a football match on two screens, TRON legacy on another. This vocalist is really good. Really, really good. I hope she finds her way out of this pub. But who knows.
I haven’t blogged about the royal cremation, my visa run to Laos or my trip to the island of Koh Kood (on the Gulf of Thailand side – the quakes and tsunami watches are on the Andaman Sea side). But that’s a heck of a lot for two weeks and moving apartments and all. Just saying.
I’ve arranged for a motosai ride to school in the morning and established myself with a motosai win (motorcycle gang, but think of it more as a co-op than a gang) in my neighborhood. This involved the translation assistance of a Family Mart cashier. I am going to be learning more Thai outside the backpacker ghetto. Sure, the backpacker ghetto has its charms in some ways, but I’m thankful to be out of it. In some ways it is tamer than where I currently sit, the Irish Pub is adjacent to the Japanese version of Soi Pat Pong. And that’s exactly what you think it is, and probably some things you haven’t thought of. Heh, you ever accidentally wandered into the red light district of a new city when you’ve only been there for less than three weeks? That was eye opening.
I’ve learned to dodge, ignore or deal with most, though not all of the less savory types that approach me on the street for whatever reason; and the ones catering to males only in these areas usually ignore me. Still interesting what they think a white girl wants in Bangkok. A few Thai phrases go a long way to mitigate this, as does being dressed in work clothes versus “you look like a teenage student tourist” clothes.
I think my neighborhood, or at least some of it, is highly amused with the new female farang on the block. And by amused I mean I was invited to join a street side drinking party of about a dozen Thai guys as I walked by to get dinner. Most of them introduced themselves and one of them drove me to the end of the soi on his bike. Thankfully my smiles and ‘ajarn, kha’ pleas got me out of sharing a drink without much hassle. I anticipate more amusing anecdotes.
Any way, that’s it for now folks. Wish me luck tomorrow!
Tomorrow I start my first day at my new job, so I’m celebrating with Irish stew. There’s a football match on two screens, TRON legacy on another. This vocalist is really good. Really, really good. I hope she finds her way out of this pub. But who knows.
I haven’t blogged about the royal cremation, my visa run to Laos or my trip to the island of Koh Kood (on the Gulf of Thailand side – the quakes and tsunami watches are on the Andaman Sea side). But that’s a heck of a lot for two weeks and moving apartments and all. Just saying.
I’ve arranged for a motosai ride to school in the morning and established myself with a motosai win (motorcycle gang, but think of it more as a co-op than a gang) in my neighborhood. This involved the translation assistance of a Family Mart cashier. I am going to be learning more Thai outside the backpacker ghetto. Sure, the backpacker ghetto has its charms in some ways, but I’m thankful to be out of it. In some ways it is tamer than where I currently sit, the Irish Pub is adjacent to the Japanese version of Soi Pat Pong. And that’s exactly what you think it is, and probably some things you haven’t thought of. Heh, you ever accidentally wandered into the red light district of a new city when you’ve only been there for less than three weeks? That was eye opening.
I’ve learned to dodge, ignore or deal with most, though not all of the less savory types that approach me on the street for whatever reason; and the ones catering to males only in these areas usually ignore me. Still interesting what they think a white girl wants in Bangkok. A few Thai phrases go a long way to mitigate this, as does being dressed in work clothes versus “you look like a teenage student tourist” clothes.
I think my neighborhood, or at least some of it, is highly amused with the new female farang on the block. And by amused I mean I was invited to join a street side drinking party of about a dozen Thai guys as I walked by to get dinner. Most of them introduced themselves and one of them drove me to the end of the soi on his bike. Thankfully my smiles and ‘ajarn, kha’ pleas got me out of sharing a drink without much hassle. I anticipate more amusing anecdotes.
Any way, that’s it for now folks. Wish me luck tomorrow!
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Step Back
It’s often really difficult to see the forest for the trees, especially in regards to life as an expat. You’re isolated, but you’re surrounded. Everyone thinks you are brave, or having the adventure of a lifetime. People that haven’t been abroad don’t realize you have the same everyday frustrations, the same need for simple conversation you had when you were home. There is a dreamlike quality to the life of an expat that does not allow citizens at home to see the full reality of expat living. It’s not malicious it’s the sheer fact that people at home have no basis for comparison. And frankly it would probably be more nerve wracking if everything were easily understood.
It’s easy to get sucked into a negative loop here. You’re far from home, you don’t speak the language (a few words and phrases help a little), there ARE a lot of people that don’t want you here, are angry that you are taking jobs away from them, just the same as some American citizens are in favor of border fences and expelling certain ethnic groups from the country. There is wage discrimination against the local people, as a white person you’re going to make more than them automatically. Of course there is friction. The situation is not my fault, and I truly hope, like the Red Shirt movement, the Thai people will continue to learn to find their voice and fight for their own rights. But in a culture of saving face, mai pen rai, and social status based on skin tone that is systemically rampant, I don’t know what I can do besides egg on my Thai friends to stick up for themselves.
And then, you have Immigration.
Rather than discuss my Immigration mess, the mutual racism I encounter on a day-to-day basis, politics or anything like that, let’s take a step back.
The Thai colleague that assisted me with the Immigration ordeal was on my side. She bought my lunch in my state of Ugly American shaking with anger.
The taxi driver that took us back to Immigration for round two passionately defended me, cursed Immigration and agreed their supposed rules were unfair in the way they were being executed against me. My colleague acted as translator, but I could tell from his mannerism and glances at me in the mirror he sided with me and not his countrymen’s officials. He was not among those that didn’t want me in Thailand. He held respect for me as a farang teacher.
A Thai citizen working for a placement agency that instructed us on how to get me out of the situation; who then heard my boss would not allow the simple paperwork adjustment remarked that her decision ‘was cruel.’
The visa run agency that took me to Laos cared for all of us the whole way, including my “I’ve lost my wallet, I’m a hysterical American at 3 am” meltdown. They offered to loan me money to get through the situation.
The local people in my neighborhood know me, know I’m a teacher, and are genuinely kind to me. They help me read notices in Thai I receive in the mail, rub my shoulders when I’m feeling bad (in a restaurant), and generally look out for me. My regular motosai driver has been telling me ‘I will miss you every day’ for a couple of weeks now.
It took a long time to realize how many Thai people would help me, namely because my first experiences were not so pleasant and I live in the backpacker ghetto – you have to establish yourself as a local when you look like a tourist in the most dense concentration of tourists in the capital.
I’m not going so far as to say what occurred at my place of employment was fair, or indicative of Thai culture. What I will say is that many aspects of my employment were very typical for a westerner working in Thailand, many were better, and some were the unique positions of my employer alone. And I refuse to let the most negative parts of that be how I feel about this country and its citizens. Which is a big reason I needed to find a new job, and an even bigger reason I needed to stay in this country longer. I am not so gullible as to believe Thailand is nothing but the land of smiles. But I am not so bitter and coldhearted to want to believe all Thai people want to kick farangs out the day they finish their contract, come tour and spend money then get out! Just like not all Americans are so ridiculously anti-Immigrant.
In a couple of years, if I still harbor such negativity about the farang experience in Thailand that I am disgusted with myself, I will move on to another culture. But I cannot say I have adequately explored this culture based on my experiences thus far. The backpacker ghetto and one job are not enough to summarize a culture. And as I must keep reminding myself, Immigration is the worst part of this country.
It’s easy to get sucked into a negative loop here. You’re far from home, you don’t speak the language (a few words and phrases help a little), there ARE a lot of people that don’t want you here, are angry that you are taking jobs away from them, just the same as some American citizens are in favor of border fences and expelling certain ethnic groups from the country. There is wage discrimination against the local people, as a white person you’re going to make more than them automatically. Of course there is friction. The situation is not my fault, and I truly hope, like the Red Shirt movement, the Thai people will continue to learn to find their voice and fight for their own rights. But in a culture of saving face, mai pen rai, and social status based on skin tone that is systemically rampant, I don’t know what I can do besides egg on my Thai friends to stick up for themselves.
And then, you have Immigration.
Rather than discuss my Immigration mess, the mutual racism I encounter on a day-to-day basis, politics or anything like that, let’s take a step back.
The Thai colleague that assisted me with the Immigration ordeal was on my side. She bought my lunch in my state of Ugly American shaking with anger.
The taxi driver that took us back to Immigration for round two passionately defended me, cursed Immigration and agreed their supposed rules were unfair in the way they were being executed against me. My colleague acted as translator, but I could tell from his mannerism and glances at me in the mirror he sided with me and not his countrymen’s officials. He was not among those that didn’t want me in Thailand. He held respect for me as a farang teacher.
A Thai citizen working for a placement agency that instructed us on how to get me out of the situation; who then heard my boss would not allow the simple paperwork adjustment remarked that her decision ‘was cruel.’
The visa run agency that took me to Laos cared for all of us the whole way, including my “I’ve lost my wallet, I’m a hysterical American at 3 am” meltdown. They offered to loan me money to get through the situation.
The local people in my neighborhood know me, know I’m a teacher, and are genuinely kind to me. They help me read notices in Thai I receive in the mail, rub my shoulders when I’m feeling bad (in a restaurant), and generally look out for me. My regular motosai driver has been telling me ‘I will miss you every day’ for a couple of weeks now.
It took a long time to realize how many Thai people would help me, namely because my first experiences were not so pleasant and I live in the backpacker ghetto – you have to establish yourself as a local when you look like a tourist in the most dense concentration of tourists in the capital.
I’m not going so far as to say what occurred at my place of employment was fair, or indicative of Thai culture. What I will say is that many aspects of my employment were very typical for a westerner working in Thailand, many were better, and some were the unique positions of my employer alone. And I refuse to let the most negative parts of that be how I feel about this country and its citizens. Which is a big reason I needed to find a new job, and an even bigger reason I needed to stay in this country longer. I am not so gullible as to believe Thailand is nothing but the land of smiles. But I am not so bitter and coldhearted to want to believe all Thai people want to kick farangs out the day they finish their contract, come tour and spend money then get out! Just like not all Americans are so ridiculously anti-Immigrant.
In a couple of years, if I still harbor such negativity about the farang experience in Thailand that I am disgusted with myself, I will move on to another culture. But I cannot say I have adequately explored this culture based on my experiences thus far. The backpacker ghetto and one job are not enough to summarize a culture. And as I must keep reminding myself, Immigration is the worst part of this country.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Arriving
I suppose it’s about time for an update over here. Especially because I’ve been all cryptic and acting like I’ve got secret agents from various Asian countries after me. No, I tend to be melodramatic; it’s really nothing more than what you’d have to worry about putting online and having a US employer get upset about. It’s just that there are different definitions of what causes people to become upset, and I’m constantly guessing here. And since my employment is directly tied to my visa, well, I was rather anxious.
It’s hard to believe that in less than one month I will be starting my first job as a lead art teacher in a school. Yes, I went through student teaching, yes, I did art outreach work in the summer of 2010. But this will be my first, full time job in my own classroom. And that’s a really, really big deal to me.
Looking back, I thought to myself, this is something I’ve been striving for since graduation in May 2009. But thinking further, really, I was striving for it those full five years at Purdue. And really, though I hadn’t made up my mind to pursue art education yet, even when I was planning my future in middle and high school, it was always ‘well, I’ll get a science job like my parents want so I can build a really cool art studio.’ That lasted to about October of freshman year of college. I still remember the trembling phone call home to my mother about changing majors, if she would still support me, if she would not tell Dad yet. And the people who supported me in that decision then, though many are no longer in my life. They served a very important role at a pivotal time.
It seems surreal, that I will be walking into my own art class. That I will have a proper health care plan. That I will have a real school calendar, with set vacation days that I can actually take instead of sit, play, work…
And I’m not completely naïve. I know that I’m not entering Nirvana. Though my new school did not flood in the Great 2011 flood, during a rainstorm the nearby Khlong overflowed and THAT caused a slight flood in the school. You can see the water marks on the wall. Note to self: Most important art supplies do not go on the bottom shelf. Perhaps nothing goes on the bottom shelf if possible, I doubt that’s possible.
I am going to miss my current English students. I was so touched by the hugs, photos and notes they gave me. And now I’m glad I caved in and created a teacher’s facebook account, separate from my personal space, because I will be able to see what they do after this. Probably 10 students jumped up and shouted you should be our art teacher, we’ll go ask the head mistress when I told them I was leaving to teach art. I told them it cannot be, the school charter dictates that a Thai will teach art. And I really have no desire to take a job from a Thai art teacher in their home country. Though in some ways, that is exactly what I’ve done at my new school, though they were looking for someone with a better command of English, and that’s exactly the skill I can bring. I’m very conflicted about the stratification I see here. But this post is not about that.
This post is about what I’ve overcome, my excitement for the future, a dream 8+ years in the making coming to pass. I know I put too much expectation, too much pressure, too much grief onto this dream. But that’s exactly why I refused to give it up. I’ll move half way around the world before I’ll give up.
I don’t always rub everyone the right way. I’m outspoken, I’m opinionated, I’m ‘easy to anger’ as my current boss notes with chagrin. I have views that other people don’t agree with, don’t know when to keep my mouth shut and hate being politically correct. But that’s why I get along with my closest friends, even from literally the other side of the planet, and that’s what has allowed me to keep up this relentless pursuit. Next month, I will arrive.
It’s hard to believe that in less than one month I will be starting my first job as a lead art teacher in a school. Yes, I went through student teaching, yes, I did art outreach work in the summer of 2010. But this will be my first, full time job in my own classroom. And that’s a really, really big deal to me.
Looking back, I thought to myself, this is something I’ve been striving for since graduation in May 2009. But thinking further, really, I was striving for it those full five years at Purdue. And really, though I hadn’t made up my mind to pursue art education yet, even when I was planning my future in middle and high school, it was always ‘well, I’ll get a science job like my parents want so I can build a really cool art studio.’ That lasted to about October of freshman year of college. I still remember the trembling phone call home to my mother about changing majors, if she would still support me, if she would not tell Dad yet. And the people who supported me in that decision then, though many are no longer in my life. They served a very important role at a pivotal time.
It seems surreal, that I will be walking into my own art class. That I will have a proper health care plan. That I will have a real school calendar, with set vacation days that I can actually take instead of sit, play, work…
And I’m not completely naïve. I know that I’m not entering Nirvana. Though my new school did not flood in the Great 2011 flood, during a rainstorm the nearby Khlong overflowed and THAT caused a slight flood in the school. You can see the water marks on the wall. Note to self: Most important art supplies do not go on the bottom shelf. Perhaps nothing goes on the bottom shelf if possible, I doubt that’s possible.
I am going to miss my current English students. I was so touched by the hugs, photos and notes they gave me. And now I’m glad I caved in and created a teacher’s facebook account, separate from my personal space, because I will be able to see what they do after this. Probably 10 students jumped up and shouted you should be our art teacher, we’ll go ask the head mistress when I told them I was leaving to teach art. I told them it cannot be, the school charter dictates that a Thai will teach art. And I really have no desire to take a job from a Thai art teacher in their home country. Though in some ways, that is exactly what I’ve done at my new school, though they were looking for someone with a better command of English, and that’s exactly the skill I can bring. I’m very conflicted about the stratification I see here. But this post is not about that.
This post is about what I’ve overcome, my excitement for the future, a dream 8+ years in the making coming to pass. I know I put too much expectation, too much pressure, too much grief onto this dream. But that’s exactly why I refused to give it up. I’ll move half way around the world before I’ll give up.
I don’t always rub everyone the right way. I’m outspoken, I’m opinionated, I’m ‘easy to anger’ as my current boss notes with chagrin. I have views that other people don’t agree with, don’t know when to keep my mouth shut and hate being politically correct. But that’s why I get along with my closest friends, even from literally the other side of the planet, and that’s what has allowed me to keep up this relentless pursuit. Next month, I will arrive.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Time For Another Ramble
Those of you on the email updates list will have just received some very exciting news. I’ll make that public on the blog in about a month.
In the meantime, I believe I have enough to ramble about that is worthy of a blog post as opposed to 15 rambling facebook status updates. So without further ado in no particular order:
When one is craving a sandwich, it is best to remember what part of the globe one is in. I’ve had good sandwiches in Bangkok, but not many. BLEK. Dinner was a poor choice. Whoever’s tastes they are catering to with that one, they are not mine.
The prevalence of American pop music in Bangkok astounds me. Well, it used to. But you know what’s really unfortunate? The Bossa Novafication of contemporary North American pop. As if Bossa Nova Avril Lavigne wasn’t bad enough, today I heard Bossa Nova Black-Eyed-Peas. Seriously? Who on Earth thought this was a good idea?
One of the changes for me in the next six weeks includes moving to another apartment. I haven’t found the new digs yet. But, I will miss certain small things. Here’s a break down:
My personal motosai entourage that know all my regular haunts. Sure, I may still be able to ride with a few of them once in awhile; but my routes will all be changing, and especially the ones that take me to school and the doctor, I will not see often. I truly mean it when I say I will write a dystopian fiction novel that includes motosai superheroes. And no, not like Akira. At all.
An aside on motorcycles, I believe Bangkok must be cracking down on helmet safety somewhat, because the prevalence of motosai drivers who hand me a helmet to wear has greatly increased the past month or two. That or since they know me now they want to protect my skull as a repeat customer. Maybe both.
Being across the way from Mai Kai Dee’s vegetarian restaurant.
My soi’s massage parlors and the people that greet me every time I walk past, and know exactly where the tension hides in my right shoulder blade. I like them enough to stop by occasionally if I’ve got friends visiting the city.
Ming, the alley cat, and some of the neighbors I’ve gotten to know, both English and non-English speaking.
My landlords who rescue my laundry from the rain.
Being able to see the Golden Mount Temple from the roof, especially lit up at night.
Possibly, being called Teacher Jenny. Like ‘Miss Corazon,’ I will adjust and cherish it.
In the meantime, I believe I have enough to ramble about that is worthy of a blog post as opposed to 15 rambling facebook status updates. So without further ado in no particular order:
When one is craving a sandwich, it is best to remember what part of the globe one is in. I’ve had good sandwiches in Bangkok, but not many. BLEK. Dinner was a poor choice. Whoever’s tastes they are catering to with that one, they are not mine.
The prevalence of American pop music in Bangkok astounds me. Well, it used to. But you know what’s really unfortunate? The Bossa Novafication of contemporary North American pop. As if Bossa Nova Avril Lavigne wasn’t bad enough, today I heard Bossa Nova Black-Eyed-Peas. Seriously? Who on Earth thought this was a good idea?
One of the changes for me in the next six weeks includes moving to another apartment. I haven’t found the new digs yet. But, I will miss certain small things. Here’s a break down:
My personal motosai entourage that know all my regular haunts. Sure, I may still be able to ride with a few of them once in awhile; but my routes will all be changing, and especially the ones that take me to school and the doctor, I will not see often. I truly mean it when I say I will write a dystopian fiction novel that includes motosai superheroes. And no, not like Akira. At all.
An aside on motorcycles, I believe Bangkok must be cracking down on helmet safety somewhat, because the prevalence of motosai drivers who hand me a helmet to wear has greatly increased the past month or two. That or since they know me now they want to protect my skull as a repeat customer. Maybe both.
Being across the way from Mai Kai Dee’s vegetarian restaurant.
My soi’s massage parlors and the people that greet me every time I walk past, and know exactly where the tension hides in my right shoulder blade. I like them enough to stop by occasionally if I’ve got friends visiting the city.
Ming, the alley cat, and some of the neighbors I’ve gotten to know, both English and non-English speaking.
My landlords who rescue my laundry from the rain.
Being able to see the Golden Mount Temple from the roof, especially lit up at night.
Possibly, being called Teacher Jenny. Like ‘Miss Corazon,’ I will adjust and cherish it.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Stories From the Backlog
Hi, I live here
“Good morning sir, would you like a suit.”
“It’s Ma’am.”
“Yes Sir…”
“No, it’s Ma’am, I’m a woman… Listen. I’m a woman so you call me ‘ma’am,’ a man is sir, but I’m not a man, I’m female, so you call me ma’am.”
“Ok…ma..am.”
“And let’s get something else straight. I live down this street. I teach down this street. So, I don’t need a suit every day. Just thought we should get that clear.” *handshake*
“Thank you ma’am! You are a good teacher!”
“Thank you.”
“Have a good day!”
Problem solved.
The White Chick on the Motorbike
I never ask questions when a motosai driver takes an alternate route the way I might ask a taxi. I’ve learned they’re avoiding police and/or mafia shake down road blocks, or simple traffic congestion. They look out for their own; they warn each other about these things when one is approaching. Police and/or mafia you ask? Yes. And/or. The drivers around my soi know me well enough, they’ve even taken two friends and I across town at a discounted price (three bikes in Bangkok traffic is something), and they’ve taken me without their official vests on, with the promise of payment days down the line so police wouldn’t see the exchange of bills. Why would I get on a motorcycle with a guy taking his uniform vest off? Well, then he doesn’t get stopped by the police for the shake down, and they know I need to get to school and what not. They know my haunts. I even approached one of the pink vests in Siam last week, and he completed my address and price before I had to finish. I’m a regular now I suppose. Once shortly after my arrival, when the height of Red vs. Yellow was still fading from fever pitch, I was told: If you want to know where the reds or the yellows are, ask the orange shirts. Orange – the color most motosai driver’s vests are. Also available in Pink and Blue, because this is Thailand. For a good month when asked what my politics were, I was smugly saying ‘orange’ to myself in my head.
The Art of Hacking
“Did you log in from a new location recently?”
Yes facebook, thank you for noticing that I’m trying to circumvent the school blocking facebook and conveniently hopped over to Russia for a quick social media jaunt. Now stop asking me to identify pictures of 9Gag translated into Thai where I have entire classes of students tagged and let me login. I should I remind you that in Russia, facebook logs onto you! Tasteless, I know.
But hey, I actually attempted to use facebook as a tool for communicating assignments with my students before the successful block, because they were constantly distracted by it. And well, they still are, on their contraband phones and not contraband iPads with private internet connections. Besides which, if my school could be bothered to give the foreigners logins, I wouldn’t have to do this any way, it’s not blocked for other staff. Foreigners are relegated to the generic student login; hence I’m blocked from everything the students are. Including the Indiana Department of Education for the past month, for what reason I have no idea, but that was the icing on the cake, I had to get around it.
It’s said that China produces some of the best hackers in the world, because they get so much practice. What they may not get in school, those with net access get in every day firewall scaling; problem solving at its finest. As much as it chagrins me when game files are downloaded throughout the computer lab yet again, it warms my heart somewhat to hear some of the students have also been creatively ‘unblocking’ websites the school has blocked. I’m not even talking Ministry of Communication Technology here, just school blocks. I just hope my budding hackers put it to good use outside of MICT later down the line. If you’re unfamiliar with MICT, please do a google search of censorship in Thailand. If living outside of Thailand, notice that none of your results come up with the following page when you try to click through:
http://58.97.5.29/annouce/court.html
And please, if at all inclined to collect as much random knowledge about the world as possible, educate yourself on this issue.
“Good morning sir, would you like a suit.”
“It’s Ma’am.”
“Yes Sir…”
“No, it’s Ma’am, I’m a woman… Listen. I’m a woman so you call me ‘ma’am,’ a man is sir, but I’m not a man, I’m female, so you call me ma’am.”
“Ok…ma..am.”
“And let’s get something else straight. I live down this street. I teach down this street. So, I don’t need a suit every day. Just thought we should get that clear.” *handshake*
“Thank you ma’am! You are a good teacher!”
“Thank you.”
“Have a good day!”
Problem solved.
The White Chick on the Motorbike
I never ask questions when a motosai driver takes an alternate route the way I might ask a taxi. I’ve learned they’re avoiding police and/or mafia shake down road blocks, or simple traffic congestion. They look out for their own; they warn each other about these things when one is approaching. Police and/or mafia you ask? Yes. And/or. The drivers around my soi know me well enough, they’ve even taken two friends and I across town at a discounted price (three bikes in Bangkok traffic is something), and they’ve taken me without their official vests on, with the promise of payment days down the line so police wouldn’t see the exchange of bills. Why would I get on a motorcycle with a guy taking his uniform vest off? Well, then he doesn’t get stopped by the police for the shake down, and they know I need to get to school and what not. They know my haunts. I even approached one of the pink vests in Siam last week, and he completed my address and price before I had to finish. I’m a regular now I suppose. Once shortly after my arrival, when the height of Red vs. Yellow was still fading from fever pitch, I was told: If you want to know where the reds or the yellows are, ask the orange shirts. Orange – the color most motosai driver’s vests are. Also available in Pink and Blue, because this is Thailand. For a good month when asked what my politics were, I was smugly saying ‘orange’ to myself in my head.
The Art of Hacking
“Did you log in from a new location recently?”
Yes facebook, thank you for noticing that I’m trying to circumvent the school blocking facebook and conveniently hopped over to Russia for a quick social media jaunt. Now stop asking me to identify pictures of 9Gag translated into Thai where I have entire classes of students tagged and let me login. I should I remind you that in Russia, facebook logs onto you! Tasteless, I know.
But hey, I actually attempted to use facebook as a tool for communicating assignments with my students before the successful block, because they were constantly distracted by it. And well, they still are, on their contraband phones and not contraband iPads with private internet connections. Besides which, if my school could be bothered to give the foreigners logins, I wouldn’t have to do this any way, it’s not blocked for other staff. Foreigners are relegated to the generic student login; hence I’m blocked from everything the students are. Including the Indiana Department of Education for the past month, for what reason I have no idea, but that was the icing on the cake, I had to get around it.
It’s said that China produces some of the best hackers in the world, because they get so much practice. What they may not get in school, those with net access get in every day firewall scaling; problem solving at its finest. As much as it chagrins me when game files are downloaded throughout the computer lab yet again, it warms my heart somewhat to hear some of the students have also been creatively ‘unblocking’ websites the school has blocked. I’m not even talking Ministry of Communication Technology here, just school blocks. I just hope my budding hackers put it to good use outside of MICT later down the line. If you’re unfamiliar with MICT, please do a google search of censorship in Thailand. If living outside of Thailand, notice that none of your results come up with the following page when you try to click through:
http://58.97.5.29/annouce/court.html
And please, if at all inclined to collect as much random knowledge about the world as possible, educate yourself on this issue.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Are You Earning Respect or a Paycheck?
I realize I work as an English teacher in a third world country and not a 1960s era US advertising agency, but sometimes I wonder what the difference is. I’m required to wear a skirt. Wage discrimination is by skin tone, not gender, and to my benefit, but it’s there. And being a feminist, well, I’m not the majority here. It’s just as well I didn’t get my photo share site working, it’d be a liability to my employment right now. Obviously I’m not going to elaborate on a public blog. Same reason post about Thai scout camp is indefinitely postponed. I took paper notes. Not many white girls attend those. I enjoyed the camp for the most part, and the students enjoyed my presence. Especially the red-bracelets. I’m glad I could be there for them.
American Teacher Barbie, I’m not blonde, but I’ve got the right accent and I am pretty cute. Throwing out my mascara was hardly a stand. And I ended up buying more. It never actually helps, especially in this humidity. Last week, I was trying to help a student and I was wheeled over into a desk that is not my own to be filmed for local TV, all the white teachers in one block of desks, working their magic to teach listening and speaking. Yep, I am Barbie. I didn’t get to help that student.
It’s been awhile since I posted. You may or may not be aware that I’m trying to be more guarded, and simultaneously exploding on to the internet to try and keep my outward cool while appearing to be productive. Gee, when did you start posting so much? Well, I said I’m playing my cards even closer than usual. I should probably save that. It’s a junk hand any way. But I’m sure the Terror Warning and Iranian bomb bozos didn’t help matters. For the record, you’re not required to call the Embassy to tell them you’re ok. And I am not a government official.
I won’t fully explain the incidents leading me to ponder the question, am I working for respect or a paycheck? But I’ve realized I’m working for a paycheck right now. I enjoy having housing, food, etc., but I know few people that can feel happy when they aren’t earning respect. Real respect, not the OMG your skin is SO WHITE respect. I value respect and honesty. And I’m currently mastering deception and falsehoods. How do I even find room to respect myself? Well, I’m doing the best I can. I try to remind myself that just last week I earned my 5-year teacher’s license. But I spent five years just to get the 2-year, and my home state just passed legislation against labor unions. I’m in a situation where schools on both sides of the ocean want two years of experience, and my first year doesn’t ‘count.’ In many situations my current experience doesn’t ‘count.’ Hey, this isn’t about the paycheck this is about respect. And I am Teacher Barbie in a world disbanding unions and dumbing down education.
Like everything else, I will push through. Many people have to compromise respect to put food on their table, and like I’m one to complain when I have a passport, a paycheck and my resume to date. I’ll find a way, even if it’s not the most traditional one. That’s what I do. I am the ringleader. And I like to take my circus on the road. No one will get that reference.
American Teacher Barbie, I’m not blonde, but I’ve got the right accent and I am pretty cute. Throwing out my mascara was hardly a stand. And I ended up buying more. It never actually helps, especially in this humidity. Last week, I was trying to help a student and I was wheeled over into a desk that is not my own to be filmed for local TV, all the white teachers in one block of desks, working their magic to teach listening and speaking. Yep, I am Barbie. I didn’t get to help that student.
It’s been awhile since I posted. You may or may not be aware that I’m trying to be more guarded, and simultaneously exploding on to the internet to try and keep my outward cool while appearing to be productive. Gee, when did you start posting so much? Well, I said I’m playing my cards even closer than usual. I should probably save that. It’s a junk hand any way. But I’m sure the Terror Warning and Iranian bomb bozos didn’t help matters. For the record, you’re not required to call the Embassy to tell them you’re ok. And I am not a government official.
I won’t fully explain the incidents leading me to ponder the question, am I working for respect or a paycheck? But I’ve realized I’m working for a paycheck right now. I enjoy having housing, food, etc., but I know few people that can feel happy when they aren’t earning respect. Real respect, not the OMG your skin is SO WHITE respect. I value respect and honesty. And I’m currently mastering deception and falsehoods. How do I even find room to respect myself? Well, I’m doing the best I can. I try to remind myself that just last week I earned my 5-year teacher’s license. But I spent five years just to get the 2-year, and my home state just passed legislation against labor unions. I’m in a situation where schools on both sides of the ocean want two years of experience, and my first year doesn’t ‘count.’ In many situations my current experience doesn’t ‘count.’ Hey, this isn’t about the paycheck this is about respect. And I am Teacher Barbie in a world disbanding unions and dumbing down education.
Like everything else, I will push through. Many people have to compromise respect to put food on their table, and like I’m one to complain when I have a passport, a paycheck and my resume to date. I’ll find a way, even if it’s not the most traditional one. That’s what I do. I am the ringleader. And I like to take my circus on the road. No one will get that reference.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)