I can admit it: I have embarrassed myself numerous times by doing things I thought to be normal, but turned out to be taboo. Most travelers can probably relate to this, but you have to remember I am living with a family not surrounded by other foreigners who are making the same cultural mistakes. These are some highlights:
- I was hanging my wet laundry on the lines and figured it would be alright to place my jeans next to a shirt. Wrong! Seeing that I was pinning up my pants, Wanida rushed to my side. As it turns out, they have a separate low-to-the-ground rack, for pants and skirts. The lines are no taller than my shoulders, but definitely tall enough for the members of the family to walk under. They are out of the way, but I guess that doesn't matter. Lesson of the day: It is bad luck for people to walk underneath pants or skirts. The explanation I received went something like, "if Thai people walk under, they must go to the Buddha to the temple many time." Enough said.

-It was our day to stand outside the front of the school and welcome the students in before assembly. Knowing I wouldn't get a chance to eat breakfast that day, I made a point to carry a big bag of fruit with me (bigger than usual). Before assuming my post, I booked it to the canteen to wash an apple. I began eating it on my stroll over to the front of school and finished it as I waved the students inside. I then reached for a banana, but Wanida said, "no!" I wondered what the problem was. Maybe she was hungry and wanted this banana, not one of the three others in the bag. She informed me it is rude to eat while standing. Especially because we are teachers, we should be setting a good example.
Memories of every moment I stood and ate something in Thailand began crowding my head. There were too many to count! Had I been impolite for weeks before this, yet she never told me? Sure enough, I had. Now, I make sure to scout out a chair before I snack. Wanida asked if it was this way in America. I didn't know how to describe frenzied Americans grabbing their Starbucks latte and gulping it down before reaching their car, every food product with a "grab and go" label, and the entire concept of Gogurt. Americans would never adopt this rule, I'm

The Food

So, I know what you are all wondering. What are you eating over there? Thai food three meals a day should be fabulous and amazingly delicious, right? Sometimes. Unlike in the West (particularly in the States), Thais don't distinguish food between the three meals. No one in America is going to stop you from eating cereal for dinner or spaghetti and meatballs for breakfast, but it is common to have certain foods for certain meals of the day. We eat breakfast and lunch in the school canteen (cafeteria) and if I didn't look at the clock, I wouldn't know which meal it was. This morning, breakfast was rice with pork and chili stir-fry, sliced fried Thai hot dogs, and an unidentifiable curry. Teachers can have any or all that we want. For students, a plate of food is 25 cents. Lunch is similar everyday: pork noodle soup topped with sliced pork (noodle sizes vary, as does the color of the broth), or rice with any four curries or stir frys. Today, it was big, wide noodles for the soup. For the rice, choices were red chicken or pork curry with eggplant, chunky chicken and mushroom soup with white pumpkin, some sort of squid stir fry, and fried scrambled eggs with shredded greens. Everyday it's a little different, but usually everything is heavily laced with pork. For those of us who are kosher, this makes things difficult. Ok, so I'm far from being Kosher, but I'm not eating much pork these days. This may be due to the small, rural road near the house, which shows the sad life of a pig in under a kilometer. There is a big pig stable (the orchestra from the hungry beasts is deafening, and I won't even mention the stench) on the left. A few hundred yards away is a street vendor selling giant slabs of fly-ridden pink meat, feet, heads, and guts in the afternoon sun, without refrigeration. Across the street is a small outdoor restaurant with a grill outside roasting up chunks of very fresh pork. The sight of all this makes me want to go vegetarian (maybe even vegan), but over here, I think I would starve.
My family has caught on to my semi pork-free diet, thankfully. It seemed like every dish was spiked with some form of pork. They have started buying chicken curry for me from the night market in "downtown" Chachoengsao. Wanida's sister buys all the raw ingredients- exotic veggies, squid, shrimp, fish, pork, eggs, etc.- for the restaurant here. The curry is great, but a word to the wise: eat it slow! The big purple chunks are liver, the small circles are hearts, the long bones with little meat are necks, and the rest I don't want to think about. Usually I pick out the eggplant and small pieces of white meat (avoiding the curls of skin) before placing it in my bowl. This is how Thais eat. For dinner, I am handed a big bowl of rice and sit down at the table, loaded with four or five bowls of food. One is usually "dry," and the rest are soupy. I spoon about two bites worth of food onto one part of my rice, eat it, then reach for more. I like this. It means you don't have to commit to one dish, and you can pace yourself. It's buffet-style, without the American-sized portions.
We have been having gaeng gai (chicken curry) fairly often recently, which I don't mind. Other favorites are tom yung koong or tom chud- bowls of clear pork broth with chunky fried pork or ground pork sitting at the bottom, topped with flavorful fried greens. There is always a bowl of hard-boiled eggs and tofu chunks in dark brown liquid for Wanida's father, who slurps it down with his rice every night. I tried it for the first time last night. All Wanida could say was the broth was made from the bark of a tree and the neck of ducks. Well, it was pork-free, so I grabbed a tofu chunk. I think the "tree bark" must have been cinnamon. It wasn't too bad, if I didn't think about the duck necks.
Well, we must remember it is Asia, which means there is bound to be weird food. Here are some of the mosat strange things That people say are edible:
1. A waffle topped with chili ketchup, sweetened condensed milk, shredded dried pork, and sprinkles
2. Fish pressed together, sun-dried, then deep-fried
3. Fish pieces mashed up with chilies and coconut milk and cooked in a banana leaf over a hot grill (this was delicious)
4. A popular sweet that comes in a bag- one scoop of sugar, one of corn, one of cooked white beans, one of raw red beans, one of yellow beans, and three scoops of tapioca in various shapes and colors, all topped with hot soymilk
This list is not finished!

A Few Snaps From Thailand

Two members of my Thai family at the market. The one on the left is Wanida's sister, who owns the restaurant, and the other is her daughter who lives and works in Bangkok. Sporting that famous Thai smile!The market restaurant. So it's not really a restaurant.
Uhhhh... some sort of fish.
Thai national symbol aka a common sighting
Som Tham is papaya salad with dried shrimp and marinated crabs. Mmmmmm!

Engrish

The stereotypes are true, people. And you thought it was just in Japan that they pronounce “l” as “r” and vice versa. No, no. It seems that cool trend is happening here too. I still forget that “correct” is “collect” and “leery” is “really.” In the classes I taught with younger students, I would say the alphabet and have them repeat after me. Even the students get the sounds mixed up! I think they use these sounds interchangeably in Thai language because the word for “delicious” is “alloy,” but sometimes it’s “arroy.” When I asked which was correct, Wanida (my host) said both.
Along with great food, fake handbags, and strange meat delicacies, Asia is well-known for hilarious t-shirts with bogus English sayings. My favorite so far has been “I want to shart a party, a party with you.” I have also enjoyed “J & D: Dolce and Gobanna,” which is a total misspelling and the letters are mixed up. Digging through racks of kooky t-shirts is something I love to do in my free time (that is when I’m not wandering through 7-11 wondering how the packages of dried, shredded sea creatures taste). I found an awesome retro-style bright orange tee for about $1.50 that reads “Strictly for My Ninjas” and shows four ninjas doing high kicks. Can’t wait to wear that one back home.
Not only do weirdo sayings come on t-shirts, but the “too cool for school” 14 and 15 year-old boys here find it really fun to sport English words on their backpacks. One kid (who is even too cool for English class) scribbled “The Dog Group” in big letters across the front of his bag. Very intimidating. I have also seen words like “Satan,” “help,” and “doom.” I guess I am not cool enough to realize how great this trend is. Not that I want to admit this, but to me, it seems almost silly.

Fake designer wallets, bags, jewelry, and anything else you can print a name on are as common as fruit stands. Practically every female teacher at Wat Jaeng School (my school) carries a Louis Vuitton or Chanel bag. They were probably each 15 dollars from the small shop down the street, or even cheaper from the street fair every Wednesday. Vendors at the market wear Lacoste polos under their stained aprons. Fourth-graders sport Playboy sweatshirts (I hope they just think it’s a cute bunny). Copyright laws? Maybe not such a big deal.
I have caught quite a few mistakes in the English textbooks here. Not only are some of their vocab. words really random (ie. diarrhea, yacht, hang-gliding), some of the grammar is blatantly wrong. Wanida speaks very good Engrish. Her English is only ok. In her class the students were learning about aches of the body. My job was to read each one and the students would repeat it. “Stomachache,” “backache,” “headache,” etc. Wanida would repeat the word with the students, emphasizing the last syllable like the “ch” sound in “Charlie.” Not wanting to correct the teacher in front of the class, I heavily emphasized that the last syllable in each word sounds like the “c” in “carrot.” The more I emphasized it, the more she did with the wrong sound! I feel this situation sums up the Engrish of rural Thailand public schools. Ok, so that’s a sweeping generalization. They simply don’t hear me as I hear myself.
I have also been asked some questions with very strange wording. This gets quite humorous at times. One student’s mother asked me, “what is you go country?” Translation: Which countries have you visited? Just last night at the market, Wanida’s sister was trying to tell me when I had met one of her friends before. She insisted I had met this lady, who I had never seen before. “You go with me seven, you go, she” was what she kept repeating. I have yet to determine the translation. My favorite of the strange questions is decipherable: “Are you boring?” means “Are you bored?” The slight change in the word “bored” comes to have a very different meaning when phrased like this.
Besides getting a bit frustrated when people answer my non-“yes” or “no” questions with “yes” or “no (Where is the bathroom? “Yes.”),” I am doing fine. I hope winter is treating you well. Think beachy thoughts…

Intro to Thailand

A young-looking girl (I guessed she was 15)was holding a sign with my name on it at the uber-modern Bangkok airport a few weeks ago. Turns out, she is the niece of my host, Wanida, and is actually 23. We drove home to Chachoengsao, a province in Eastern Thailand, stopping at one of the many 7-11 convenience stores lining the highway for some green tea-flavored ho-hos and individally-packaged raisin bread slices.
Wanida is an English teacher at Wat Jaeng School, where I am spending the month of January teaching children and teachers English. I am living in her house, which is in the middle of a coconut lagoon. My situation is hard to describe: Chachoengsao is a regular town, complete with malls, a movie theater, KFC, and Dairy Queen. But, a few miles away from the commercialism are people living rural lives. Wanida lives with her parents. Her father sleeps outside in the large pavilion which doubles as the kitchen, dining room, and living room and her mother sleeps inside. Wanida's sister owns a small restaurant in the local market, so she chops vegetables and blends chiles in the pavilion every night. Everyone I have met from the town is related to the family somehow. Once I commented on the number of cousins Wanida has and she replied, "maybe everyone in this village is my cousin." Hmm.

I was quickly initiated into Thai eating rituals after a short worship at a famous Buddha temple across the street from the local market. It was New year's day, so the temple was packed with people praying for a good year. We were in and out of there pretty fast. Worship consists of sticking small pieces of gold leaf on a Buddha statue after lighting a candle and some incense. The whle thing took about twenty minutes. Afterwards, I spent hours at the local market, wandering the wide aisles staring at the tubs of marinating crabs, dried fruits, and fish on sticks. The base of every meal is either rice or noodles. For dinner, Wanida or her sister will prepare a few different dishes. I scoop myself a big mound of rice and inspect my options. I have learned to eat very slowly because, as it is Asia, every part of the animal is used. You better watch out because those big purple things in your chicken curry aren't red cabbage leaves. It's liver. And, no, that isn't a white carrot, it's the skin.

Himalayan Holiday

While you nestled with the family near your Christmas tree, sipping hot apple cider and munching reindeer-shaped cookies, I was headed north on a tummy-turning trip up north. I left Gurgaon for Chandigargh (India's only planned city- thank you, Le Corbusier) a few days after my last post to stay with another loving family. They put me on a government bus Christmas morning headed to Shimla, the favorite hill station of the British in the Himalayas. The Brits loved it because it wasn't too far from Delhi yet a world away in climate during the summer. Faded tudor buildings, tall brick houses, and a rather organized feel are reminders of Western design. Shimla looks beautiful. It is a small town that looks like it was thrown onto the side of a mountain because the houses spill down the side in a big clump. The Mall is a wide pedestrian-only walkway lined with shops and restaurants. The rest of the roads are like any other Indian city: too small for the number of cars on them. And, in Shimla, there are way too many vehicles for the two-lane streets. I was received by yet another loving family (related to the Chandigarghians) and immediately went off to The Mall. It was packed because it was a holiday. All I could see over the top of the crowd were sharp-looking red points topped with white balls. These were the Christmas caps young boys eagerly sold to the tourist masses on this festive day. There was also the skinniest Santa I have ever seen, welcoming people into a men's clothing store. The place was alive with holiday cheer. I immediately fell in love with the faded charm of Shimla and the stellar views.
The family I was staying with owns a hotel and lives on the property. More family joined us for dinner (even if it was lacking a Christmas feel, I couldn't deny the merriness of the evening). A girl just a bit younger than me came and offered to show me around the place the next day. She did, and we had a blast romping around the single shopping street of the town. Turns out, because it is really a small town without the tourist mask, she knows many of the shop and restaurant owners (major plus). It took about an hour of slow meandering to see all of The Mall. She then decided I should see a famous school in the town, which happens to be Asia's oldest school that isn't affiliated with any religion. It was founded in the 1850's by a British bishop. Bishop Cotton's School is a beaurtiful all-boys boarding school that was closed at the time for Christmas break. Like the rest of Shimla, it was obviously built by the British. The tudor and brick architecture is classic, as is the organization of the campus. There are also marvelous views, big iron gates labeled with the school seal, and lots of that New England prep school feel.
The next day, I was back on a bus down the windy, stomach-turning roads to spend another night in Chandigargh. My family there already had a bus ticket for me bound for the next stop on my journey: Amritsar, the border town to Pakistan well-known as a holy pilgrimage for Sikhs. I only had a day to knock out the sights in this city. I successfully saw all the highlights- a maharaja's mansion and gardens, the Golden Temple- the Sikh's most holy and historic place of worship, and the India/Pakistan border. I ate a typical Punjabi lunch right next to the old gardens of a maharaja- butter chicken (tandoori chicken slices in tomato curry) and naan (Indian bread). It is said the state bird of Punjab is butter chicken. I saw the amazing Golden Temple, made the offerings, did the blessings, and received the traditional sweet treat on my way out. In the evening, I was lucky enough to see the cheering match that is the closing of the border ceremony at the Whaga Border. At 5:00 sharp (this is something that does run on time, because it means some of the gaurds can go home), crowds of people buy cheap flags and wave them furiously in favor of their respective country. I may be biased, but India took the cake on the spirit. With about 1000 in the crowd, as opposed to Pakistan's 100, there really was no way the Pakis could have outmatched India's loudness. The ceremony is simply this: gaurds march around and shout things at the corwd, who answer while shaking their flags like there is no tomorrow. About 15 minutes later, it is all finished and there is a mad dash for the parking lot. Now, I can officially say I have seen Pakistan. And, what does it look like, you ask? Just like India. Now, can they accept thair similarities and stop fighting over Kashmir?
My train back to Gurgaon the next day was delayed and took ten hours instead of the expected eight. I spent my last few days in this country with my Indian Aunty and Uncle. Because of them, and all the other amazing people I met over the past four months, I can truly say I left India with a smile on my face.