Jamison’s Misadventures In Asia

Monday morning. I wake up late, body peppered in pink spots, evidence from a weekend of fun with pellet guns. I make my way to ‘work’, stopping at the post office to find my box jammed with a week’s worth of mail. The most intriguing item is a large envelope from my friend Andi. Feeling the unopened package leads me to believe that it contains magazines, or a shirt, or magazines wrapped in a shirt.

In actuality, I have no idea what awaits inside this envelope, so when I open it to discover a package of tortillas, my surprise is not so much the offspring of anticipation as it is a sibling to my bewilderment. When one opens an envelope, regardless of size, it is not common to find tortillas, let alone dehydrated refried beans, but I am not complaining—Mexican food is hard to come by in rural Thailand.

I place the envelope in my backpack and ponder my newfound quesadilla and burrito eating potential. ‘I’ll save that for a rainy day,’ I think to myself.

Monday evening. I sit in the kitchen talking with Pee Mayuree, catching up on my week of travel. I share details of my previous week’s activities; she shares fruit. Well into our conversation, she walks out of the room and returns with a small bowl of sliced green fruit, possibly melon. She asks, ‘Do you know? A-woke-ah-doe?’ Ignoring her inquiry, I pick up the fruit and am surprised by its temperature—it is frozen. I place the mysterious though familiar-looking food in my mouth, and despite its odd, frozen texture, I recognize its flavor immediately. Avocado.

‘Where did you buy this?’

‘I buy it in Mae Sai.’

‘I’ve never seen avocado in Thailand’

‘It come from China.’

Avocado.

Guacamole.

Tortillas.

Beans.

BURRITOS.

Serendipity has reared her head, and who am I to not listen when she sings the Song of Burritos. Schedules are rearranged. Plans are made. Ingredients are corralled.

Tuesday evening. I arrive at Pee Mayuree’s house, wielding various foodstuffs. I go to work in the kitchen as her family finishes their dinner. Mayuree helps me cook. Water is boiled, tomatoes are diced, avocadoes mashed. Before long, we stand before an impressive spread:

Flour Tortillas

Refried Beans

Spanish Rice

Pad Grapow Gai (a spicy Thai chicken dish)

Guacamole

Salsa

Hot Sauce

Pee looks on in wonder as I construct the First Burrito. Various family members mill about with distanced curiosity. I place the culinary amalgamation in front of her, and she begins. Her face and words express something beyond satisfaction. I join in the eating and am pleased as well. For the rest of the family, curiosity betters satiation, and before long, several members are huddled over their own plates, enjoying their First Burritos.

At meal’s end, there is nothing remaining, save a bit of unused beans. Burrito Night is a cultural and culinary success, introducing the Thai folk to an itch that will rarely be scratched here in Thailand. But for one evening, we sit around the table, our contented smiles interrupted only by the occasional grimace when one shifts in his chair and feels gluttonous guilt as Burrito churns inside his belly.

Bid Term has been a pleasant change of pace from a month of teaching.  It started out on an excellent note two weeks ago, when I first visited the hospital to begin learning about HIV/AIDS programs.  My two counterparts, Pee Tay and Pee Nong, run the hospital’s HIV/AIDS patient support program and are also involved in education programs.  The two women are both friendly and helpful; I feel fortunate to have such great counterparts. 

I felt a little nervous when I arrived at the hospital, not really knowing what they had planned for me or how patients would react to my presence.  First, my counterparts took me around the hospital, introducing me to the staff.  Then, we visited the HIV ward, where I talked with a couple patients.  Before too long, I was in the back of a truck with Pee Tay and two other women, heading out to visit patients at their homes.  I was happy to feel so welcomed so quickly, but I was once again feeling a little unsure as to how I would be accepted once we arrived at the different homes. 

The patients and their families were all very friendly and hospitable.  I did feel a little voyeuristic since I was basically just tagging along, but in the end I felt okay about my presence.  We visited one home where a father and his four year old son lived together, both were infected.  The mother died two months ago.  The father looked healthy, but the child was clearly sick, covered in sores and coughing badly.  It was at this home that I felt the most guilt for poking my head around; I felt that I could not do anything to help this family and I was in a sense just playing tourist to these people’s hardship.  I have resolved that if I am able to help improve education programs in the community, then occasionally imposing upon these patients will be worth it.  Most of the patients we visited seemed happy to have me. 

The highlight of my day came in the afternoon when I met a group of HIV+ peer counselors (it was at this time that I figured out that the two women who joined us for home visits were a part of this group).  They were all so fun and friendly.  We hung out, had lunch and did our best to communicate, though our shortcomings served as a healthy reminder that I need to improve my language skills. 

Last week I travelled to Chantaburi, in the Southeast, near Cambodia, to attend an HIV/AIDS Awareness and Life Skills Camp for high school students.  The camp was run by an NGO called Rak Thai, and I, along with nine other Peace Corps volunteers, basically just observed and participated. 

I was impressed by the people running the camp and their ability to engage the students and discuss in detail subjects that are not commonly addressed in regular Thai society.  There were times when activities dragged on too long (we spent at least a third of the camp singing and dancing), but I was amazed at how much the students opened up and became comfortable with each other over the three days. 

Another highlight was that the location of the camp, Soi Dao, is home to my new favorite open-air market in Thailand.  Most Thai markets stink of fish and meat, but this market was almost free of odor and boasted the best corn that I’ve eaten in Thailand.  I ate six ears on the last day. 

From Soi Dao, I headed to visit Ryan in Ban Hong.  I arrived at 6:30 on Friday morning after one of the least pleasant busrides I have experienced in Thailand.  After a short nap, Ryan and I started Tweezer practice.  We’ve almost finished learning The Blue Album and are feeling good about gracing the bars of Chiang Mai with our musical prowess.  The day came to a quick end around 3 p.m., when we both passed out for about 5 hours.  We couldn’t get the train back on the tracks on Friday, but Saturday turned out to be a good day. 

Ever since visiting Mae Sai in July and seeing the vast array of airsoft guns for sale at reasonable prices ($4), I have imagined epic gun battles with Ryan in his sizeable abode.  In Chantaburi, I came across a pair of small pistols for a good price, and with a visit to Ban Hong just a couple days away, I pulled the trigger, so to speak.  This decision provided Ryan and I with an afternoon full of entertainment and a fine collection of pea-sized welts.  We played a modified version of one-on-one capture the flag, with each of us winning his fair share, however, for some reason, it seems that Ryan got shot far more often than I did.  He also had more swollen spots on his body to show for it. 

On Saturday night, we hit up Ban Hong’s rocking karaoke scene.  Ryan was a bit tired, so the night ended a little early, but not before I played the drums and graced the audience with my wonderful Axl Rose impression.

This week has been pretty mellow, with not too much work and plenty of free time.  The Buddhist equivalent of lent is about to finish, so this past week, there was a special monks’ celebration.  On Tuesday night, we went to the wat (temple) to pray, and after prayer, I was lucky enough to meet one of the highly regarded monks of our area.  We talked for a while, and he was friendly and surprisingly funny.  He gave me a book and a Buddha figure and invited me back to visit the wat. 

The following morning, we lined up along the streets to offer food to the monks as they proceeded in a single-file line.  The monks walk around town to collect their food every morning, but on this special day, crowds gathered and gave it the feeling of a parade. 

That more of less sums up my past couple weeks.  Hopefully I’ll get some new pictures up before too long.  Also, note that I’ve created a music wishlist, giving all of you the opportunity to fulfill my wishes.  Happy birthdays to Magoo and Jess and anyone else I might have forgotten. 

Oh yeah, I’m fasting for the next week, consuming only a drink made of lemon juice, honey, water, and red pepper.  I’m on day two, and it’s surprisingly easy.  The whole thing is supposed to cleanse my system and rejuvenate my liver.  In order to avoid lengthy explanations, I’ve been telling the Thai folk that my fasting is in observation of an American holiday.  I still get plenty of questions, but I think the excuse makes things infinitely easier. 

Hello everyone.  It is now the month of October.  In Thailand, school is closed for most of October.  They call it ‘bid term’ (’bid’ means closed).  Bid term is a good thing.

Before I talk about my bid term plans, let me fill you in on the past few weeks.  There actually isn’t a whole lot to report.  September was a month of getting back in touch with my schools, students, and teachers.  It went pretty smoothly, though I continue to have doubts about working at one of my schools. 

In the second week of September, my Peace Corps Program Manager, Rumpai, came to visit me at site.  The  site visit is a standard check up for the Program Managers to make sure that volunteers are happy and assist in ironing out any project details with Thai counterparts.  I’m good friends with Rumpai, and she was supportive and happy about how everything is going so far.  It was a fun visit, and we even had a chance to hike up a beautful mountain overlooking Laos.

Last week, I headed to the town of Chaiyaphum in Issan, the northeastern region of Thailand.  Chaiyaphum is rumored to be the Thai province least visited by tourists, which is somewhat understandable.  Chaiyaphum is the Fresno of Thailand. I went to Chaiyaphum to help another volunteer run an English Camp for 180 primary school students.  There were a handful of volunteers who came to help, and the camp was enjoyable. 

Each volunteer was assigned to a different learning station, with the students rotating in smaller groups from station to station.  I was lucky enough to be in charge of the ‘American football’ station, which consisted of teaching the students how to throw a spiral, run a route, catch, and how to say the words ‘throw’, ‘catch’, ‘touch’, ‘run’.  The vocabulary was the easy part, but keeping Thai kids motivated while standing in blazing heat for an hour can be a little difficult.  In the end, I’m pretty sure they all had a good time, and I was impressed with their skills. 

The weekend following the camp, several more volunteers showed up in Chaiyaphum for a party.  On Friday night, we went to a little backwater Thai club, filled almost completely with men, and I did my best to make friends.  There was one guy dancing onstage who would repeatedly show the crowd his ample belly, and I took each showing as an opporunity to slap said belly.  I believe he enjoyed this gesture of friendship across international and cultural lines, and I left the club feeling good about my role as an emissary of good will. 

On Saturday, we were treated to some great cooking and managed to make it through the weekend without setting the house on fire, despite our best efforts.  Due to its lack of tourism and generally being out of the way, Chaiyaphum is a pain in the ass as far as bus schedules go.  To avoid a half-day layover in central Thailand, I had to hop on a bus at 1:30 a.m. on Sunday morning.  I’ve spent most of this week trying to recover. 

Next week, I head to Chantaburi, in the southeastern corner of the mainland.  I will be participating in an HIV/AIDS training, and I am eager to learn new skills to bring back to site.  Starting tomorrow, I will be visiting with HIV-infected patients every Friday.  I hope to learn more about the disease and the support and education programs in the community, with the ultimate goal of bringing together different community groups to improve awareness. 

Before I finish, I’ll give you a nibble of my daily life:  the bathroom setup.  Traditionally, Thai people have used squatting toilets, basically a porcelain hole in the ground.  The squatter is the type of toilet most commonly found in Thailand.  I particularly enjoy seeing ‘American Standard’ brand squatting toilets–the irony always gives me a little smirk before I squat. 

Toilet paper is widely used in Thailand:  as tissues, napkins, and sometimes in the bathroom.  One will more likely find a bucket full of water or a small hose in place of toilet paper.  The hose can be applied directly, but the bucket of water is not used for wiping as much as it is used for cleaning one’s hand after wiping.  I could explain in more detail, but I will assume that the procedure is satisfactorily clear. 

Sometimes, if one is lucky enough to have toilet paper in the bathroom, there still may be the problem of where to put it when wiping has finished.  For some reason, Thai people have decided that certain toilets accept toilet paper, while other toilets do not. 

At my host family’s house, there was toilet paper available, though for the first month of living there, I assumed that I could not flush it.  This assumption brought forth the aforementioned problem of what to do with my paper.  In this case, I decided to employ a t.p. bag–a ziploc bag to carry my used toilet paper.  This system worked pretty well, though I would often stuff it in my shirt or pants to conceal it from my host family.  Unfortunately, one day, the bag went missing.  I don’t know where it went–whether I lost it at our training site, my school, or my house.  This unfortunate event encouraged me to ask resident Thai culture expert, Chaturon, about what to do with my toilet paper.  He informed me that I could probably just send it down the tube. 

At my house in Thoeng, I am blessed with a western-style toilet that flushes (sometimes they don’t).  in the wiping department, I tend to favor the hose method over paper.  It’s a kind of poor man’s bodet, with the only drawback being a lingering moisture. 

I think that I’ve delivered far more personal details than most of you would care to know, so I think it’s about time I wrap this one up.  Congratulations, Oakland A’s, on a solid season of baseball.  Shame on you, Oakland A’s fans, for our lean attendance numbers down the stretch.  Kudos, to the first person who sends me Ryan Adams’ new album, Jacksonville Nights.  I hope you all are well.