Chiang Mai

So the school year is over, and in the meantime I am living in Chiang Mai and will hopefully be teaching English for money. I actually have in interview in an hour and a half.

I got here on Thursday and spent the first day looking for work. I forget how humiliating the job walk can be. There you are, dressed in your best clothes wandering around and trying not to sweat very much. You find an TEFL place, and you walk and grinning like an idiot-- but not grinning TOO much because you want to look friendly but not desperate. Hand in your resume, the person looks you up and down with a nasty look and a fake smile and you get the feeling that you are applying for their job. They hand you an application like its a huge problems (your smiling pleasantly the entire time) and then you sit down outside (they never let you sit in the office, God forbid) and fill it out, although all that information is already in my resume. Then you turn the application in and they drop it in a drawer and give you a look like "Are you still here?" Note to secretaries and administrators: it would kill you to poke through the resume and ask a few pointless questions.

I got one interview on the spot and another interview a few days later. I got the first job but the are still working out the classes for next week, so I might have to go with this second job. Hopefully I will be teaching tomorrow.

Chiang Mai is terrifying. If Pai is Santa Cruz, and Mae Hong Son is Palo Also, then Chiang Mai is a mix between Seattle and LA. It's got a Seattle flavour because there are coffee houses everywhere, on every corner, screaming that they have mochas, espresso, etc. There is even a few Starbucks. I haven't gotten a frappichino yet, however, due to the fact that the cost of the drink is twice the amount that I pay per night at my guesthouse and also twice the amount of my average daily living expenses. It's about 200 baht, or about six dollars. It's funny how skewed your perception of money gets. I would never pay more then 150 baht (about 5 dollars) for a meal here, and in Seattle a comparable meal is around $20. Anyway, I have gone into Starbucks on more then one occasion just to sit and smell. It really does feel just like home (or smell like it anyway).

Yesterday I also found the mall. They have a movie theatre, a sushi place, Pizza Hut, KFC, Duncan Donuts, Hagan-daz, etc... Three floors. I just wandered around in a daze. They didn't even have stuff like this in Sanaa, Yemen, and quite frankly I was scared out of my skull. You could buy anything in the world and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere. There was a fashion show and music was being blasted everywhere. I couldn't believe that I used to go to places like that on a regular basis and think nothing of it.

My room in the guesthouse is quite literally the size of Jake's place in the Blues Brothers, although I have my own bathroom. I also have my own freaks who live downstairs, including an older fellow who sits and smokes all day at the same place at a table. I have not seem him move, eat, drink, just smoke. It's very chilling to leave in the morning and see him there just to come back eight hours later and he's still there like a wax statue. I also talked to a guy last night who told me that he was Israeli. After my initial wave of distaste, I yelled at myself for being a racist and tried to talk to him with an open mind, as one being to another. As a reward I found myself being lectured five minutes later for living in Thailand for three months and not speaking the language. I finally turned away to talk to the French guy next to me after being given an impromptu vocabulary test on Thai words that he thought I should know. My stereotype of Israelis, alas, lives on.

I think that I will enjoy living here, it will be a nice vacation.

End of the Year

So, the school year is over and I experience of mixture of happiness and sadness and uneasiness, something that I think that any teacher can understand. It's happy becaues the damn kids have finally gone home and I don't have to listen to their screeching out Thai love songs on the guitar at 10 o'clock at night. It's sad because the students are leaving and many of them can not come back. A few can't come back because they finished the program, but most of them aren't returning because of the situation in their homes.

A handful of students in my most basic English class aren't coming back because they are joining their tribes army. I didn't realize when I started teaching them that they were just getting a break from toting guns around. At this moment you are probably thinking that they are all a bunch of hardened soldiers, with stone faces and cold eyes. Not at all. They barely look like their ages, which range from 18-21. Most of these kids are baby faced, thin, and very polite. (They are also the ones that like to play the guitar. To hell with guns, these kids should just mass on the border and sing. That would drive everyone away. I swear that even the mosquitoes keep their distance.)

The kids in my second class come from the refugee camps and I am not sure if I will be seeing them either. There is a new rule that I don't understand, but I will do my best to try and explain, so don't quote me here. Apparently if you live in a refugee camp you can either become a full-fledged refugee and accept a UNHCR card. If you do this, you can't leave the camp but you get an opportunity to go to a “third country” (a country that isn't Thailand or Burma). When and where you leave is uncertain.

We are trying to get permission for the kids in the camps to be able to attend CLC even if they choose the UNHCR card, so their future at CLC is a big maybe.

The other option for refugees will be to take a Thai ID card which will allow them to live anywhere in Thailand-- anywhere except the refugee camps, which for most kids is the only home that they have known. Plus they are not full Thai citizens, so they get all the racism that comes along from being Hill Tribe and not having a Thai passport. They also won't be able to leave Thailand, a country where their prospects are pretty grim.

Which would you choose?

Class 1 Memorial Toilet

The provisions for the Class 1 Memorial Toilet came today-- the results of much work writing proposals, buying shit in town and basically learning about what it takes to do a long term project. Here we are showing the stuff off-- we have Nehneh, E-e, Moe, Mow, Yoom, Morn, Prae and Rosy crammed around the pipe, roof, tank and toilet that will soon grace our campus. Oh yeah, and that's me in the back but you probably guessed that. No, I am not standing on anything. The girls are just really that short.

After this excitement I just needed to get away and calm down so I took Chopper for his first long ride (with me, anyway.) Chopper is my new bike, see below. It's a lot different from riding Zelda-- he has gears that are manipulated with my foot and the most scary part is the foot brake. This is scary for me because I am so used to hand brakes after 31 years of riding bikes and scooters-- I just know that my panic reaction will be to grip the hand brake which has about a tenth of the stopping power of the foot. But I practiced for about an hour and I think that I am getting the hang of it. There is a 20k road leading to the school (this is why I needed a bike) that was made for a motorbike. It's full of twists and turns and the most beautiful scenery that you can imagine. Thailand was made for two wheels.

It's a Chopper, Baby!

Well, I've done it. I have officially entered Thai society (albeit a touch prematurely-- don't have that visa yet) by buying my own moped. Yes, it's used and it may be as old as I am, but it's mine. His name is Chopper (I was going to name him Zed but then realized that no one would get it and I would just be dating my self for those who would-- do you realize that Pulp Fiction is TEN years old?!?) and he's a 100cc Honda dream. Ugly as hell, but as they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And the fact that I hold 'er makes Chops the most beautiful bike in Thailand. Here's our picture-- you'll notice that I chopped off my hair to complete the butch dyke biker look.

Other then that, things have been pretty quiet. Still have a slight hangover from my visa run in Mae Sot this weekend. There has been a lot of shady security stuff going on. For starters, there has been a ton of helicopters buzzing CLC. Kyaw says that he likes it when they are flying around because it means that they feel safe enough to fly-- if there is fighting, they don't show up. In Mae Sot, there was a lot of stuff going on. Mostly the NGO workers were being harassed because two "activist tourists" were protesting on the Myanmar-Thailand "Friendship" bridge (the bridge I cross to get my visa) and then vanished, causing the Thai authorities to do a door-to-door looking for tourists. This has wreaked havoc in the volunteer community of Thailand, and I am terrified that it might jeopardize my visa!

See, morons like this really mess things up for people that are trying to do real work. "Activist Tourists" (a group that I belonged to in my Palestine days) are my new public enemy #1. These are the people who show up in a hot spot for a week or two, take a few pictures, get arrested, and then go back bragging about what a hero they are (sound familiar, Dylan and Sarah?). As good as their intentions might be, they really just fuck things up for people who are trying to do real work in these countries, and make it harder for us to get in and out and extend our visas.

Finally, the other bizarre thing is the forest fires. Sorry, I don't have a picture but it seems that half the jungle in Thailand is on fire. The locals (most of which who live in bamboo huts that would go up like a matchstick) aren't very concerned about it. They seem to just shrug and nod when the fires are pointed out. Today there was a fire on the other side of the road. I don't think that they are set, I think that they are natural. And it isn't even the hot season yet! Thank God that I live in a brick house with a metal roof, although I am still pretty worried about the school and the people who sleep under the leaf roofs!

Jennifer's Photo Montage

We recently had a guest, Canadian photographer Jennifer Roberts, who stayed with us for two weeks and took a lot of pictures. I thought that I would put a few up here.


This is my house. I live on the right, Sabrina on the left. The little table is where I do all my lesson planning. Nice, huh?

CLC in the morning, before the fog lifts. This is looking down from my house towards the kitchen.

CLC from the road. My house is on the top right with the gray roof. We are the only ones with a metal roof, everyone else has leaf roofs.

I am the one in the red shirt. I am teaching class 2 and we are playing 20 questions.

Teaching class 3. It's the smallest class and I only had about half my students this day. It's an early morning class, which explains my sweatshirt and long pants!

We are playing "human knot" as a warm up. No, it doesn't have any English (other then "go under, go over") but the kids love it!

Safe, safe, safe

Hey there,

Thailand has been a lot in the news recently and some of you have expressed concern. Don't worry, all that stuff is far in the south and has nothing to do with me. It is safe as ever up here in the north!

Wat Doi Kong Mu

Yesterday, I had a Very Nice Day. This is not a particularly rare occurrence here in Thailand-- I still love the place. But yesterday I had one of those days that reminds me why exactly I love the place.

The day didn't start out too nice. I woke up nursing a slight hangover from the previous night when we went to town to have a small three person goodbye party for one of the volunteers, Jennifer. Jennifer was a photographer who stayed for two weeks. Since there wasn't exactly a bar in Nai Soi we settled for buying cokes and whiskey and sitting next to a rice paddy hiding from the students. Anyway, the next morning (a Saturday) one of the students decided that it was a good idea to belt out a few Thai pop songs at the top of his breath while playing the guitar at eight in the morning.

I was unhungover by around one I left around two o'clock to do some shopping in town and meet some friends. My shopping was done in about two hours and I had five hours to kill. I decided to spend the time visiting one of my favorite places-- Wat Doi Kong Mu. This is a temple that sits atop of one of the mountains that surrounds Mae Hong Son, and is a devilish hike but a beautiful place to visit. I try to make a point of climbing up every time that I go to Mae Hong Son.

I was very proud because I only needed to rest four times on my way up. The climb only takes about a half hour to forty-five minutes, but it's a very strenuous climb. You can get about halfway up via a steep staircase that starts the pilgrimage. There is a temple at the base of the hill that is connected to the Was Doi Kong Mu, and the minute you enter the grounds it slopes upwards so by the time you even get to the first step of the stairs you are slightly out of breath. By the time you pass the second set of guardian dragons, unless you are in very good shape, you are generally starting to huff and puff and you wonder why they even bothered putting up guardians. The climb alone should be enough to deter any evil spirit.

The mountain steepens about halfway up and the stairs give way to a switchbacking path that heads up at about a thirty degree angle. There are little resting houses over now and then, and the first time I made use of each and every one of them. Before this path, there is a little shrine where you can take a look around and decide if it's really worth going on. The first time I was there, there was a group of novice monks who kindly showed me that I should hai at the statue and demonstrated. (Hai is when you put your hands together in greeting.) After I mimicked they hopped up again and indicated that I should now offer money to the metal statue, demonstrating this with a twenty-baht bill that they undoubtedly got from the last tourist that came this way. I declined, having a feeling that the money was more likely to go to sweets in town.

The kid monks (novices) at this temple are a trip. There are four in particular that I have gotten used to seeing. Three of them are skinny little Thai kids and the fourth is a fat little buddha who gives a clue to why the other three are so skinny. When I first saw the kids (how I wish I had had my camera) they were playing a game of tug-of-war. The three skinny kids were on one side of the rope, pulling with all their might, and the fat monk was standing on the other side holding the rope with one hand and looking bored.

Anyway, after a rest I headed up to the switchbacking path for the final push. It's a lovely path, and generally deserted. The first time I was huffing and puffing it and thinking how couragous I was to be doing what so few dared to do when the little monks dashed past me, running and laughing and generally killing the mood. After about ten to twenty minutes on this path, you finally get to the stairs that go to the top.

So why do I force myself to do this every week? Well, the reasons are fourfold. The first is the view. You can see all of Mae Hong Son like you are in an airplane, spotting the roads that brought you here and the different temples and shop that you frequent. If you are lucky, you can see an airplane land or take off at Mae Hong Son airport, cruising in many feet below you.

The second reason is that it is my opinion that the only feeling rivaling that of an orgasm is the feeling of Not Climbing after one has been climbing strenuously for the last half hour. I dragged myself over the final step and landed with a thump at a local bench, fanning myself with my wide Thai-style woven hat. The first time that I came up I was embarrassed to see a gaggle of tourists wandering around without an ounce of sweat snapping pictures and wondering why they weren't as tired as I was. I did a quick walk and discovered that they hadn't walked up-- there is a road leading up the back of the mountain, and everyone other then me had driven. Which leads to the third reason-- I get to sit around smugly sneering at the pristine tourists and think to myself no one (other then the monks) has more of a right to be here then me.

Finally, this is my favorite temple because in addition to the view I think that it is the nicest temple that I have found. Unlike the birdshitty temples in Mae Sot, this one is kept up and the shrines and Buddha images are lovely. There's a nice market around the back and an ice cream vendor who is starting to know me by sight. Also, this temple seems to draw more then it's share of actual worshipers rather then tourists. At any time there are people circumnavigating the two chedis (towers) and meditating in the main temple building containing the principle Buddha image. I think that they easily outnumber the tourists. Very much worth the climb.

A Very Nice Day Indeed.

An Important Milestone

Well, after almost six weeks it's finally happened-- the girls are letting me help in the kitchen. For anyone that has lived with a family in a foreign country you know that this is a big deal. When I first got here, I couldn't enter the kitchen without the students tripping over themselves to discover what I so deperatly required that would actually bring me from my palace at the top of the hill to their dusty domain. Now when I enter, they barely look at me. I go to take over a chore and they hand over the spoon or the knife without comment and, more importantly, with out objection.

It's not easy helping in the kitchen-- you have to develop a sort of sixth sense and a great memory. You have to remember that after the pot is removed from the stove they need a big bowl for that dish and a small plate for this dish... that for some of the food, they need two dishes-- one to go on the table and another to be stashed on the shelves behind you. I am sure it would be a lot easier if I could understand their Thai mumblings but I have finally gotten to the point where I can join their dance without totally fucking things up.

Working in the kitchen really brings out the fact that this community of about 20 kids between the ages of 17-21 basically rule themselves. There is one adult (Rosy's aunt) who lives on the campus (I guess I should count myself in that count, since I am a ripe 31) who, as far as I can tell, has very little need to govern the community. Students take turns waking up at 6AM to make breakfast, sweep the campus, and take care of the various spirits that reside here. This is before they attend classes (for the most part I have a perfect record), do their homework, and contact with their families back in refugee camps and villages. Most of the absences that occur are because people had to go back home, not because they decided they needed a day out in Mae Hong Son. In addition, as far as I know there had never been a major fight between two students-- and if there are any ongoing conflicts then they are well hidden.

At Scattergood we had a disciplinary committee, a group that was trained to deal in conflict management, weekly meetings, advisers, and countless other things that were needed for the school to run smoothly and prevent conflict. Here those things aren't needed... they just happen because they need to happen for everyone to be happy. It's really incredible.

The Week in Review

Other then the visa run, I haven't been very good at updates. Let me fill you in on what has been going on in my life over the past week.

29-30 January

My patience and serenity obtained from the temple that I spent the weekend at finally wore out after the fourth straight hour of being unable to teach a group of 9 students how to form a wh-question with do (ie: What do you eat?)

31 January

I officially told Kyaw (the founder of the school) that I wanted to stay for one year. I can't remember if I told the blog about that. Aside from my visa not coming through (a definite possibility) I am stuck her for the next eleven months, and I am very happy about that.

1 February

The town of Ban Nai Soi was very excited about an upcoming festival that they spent the week preparing for. This was the first day of the two-day celebrations. The festival was held at the local Wat (temple) and was some sort of annual Buddhist thing that we were never able to figure out. At first we thought that it was the new year, but later learned out that the people who said “yes” when questioned on whether it was the new year or not just didn't know what we were saying.

However, the highlight of the event was that five girls from CLC were performing in the Karaoke Contest. E-e was singing and Morn, Nehneh and two other girls that didn't attend CLC were dancing. They were quite good and we were very proud when they made it to the finals and won fourth prize. I was also proud of myself for sitting through thirteen identical performances before they went up which made me very glad that I didn't have kids (for whom I would have to sit through 14 years of similar garbage). All has the same format-- there were four girls in each corner and a singer in the middle. The person would sing their Thai pop song and the girls would wiggle and gyrate to moves that they were generally too young to know. The first prize was well deserved (sorry E-e and Co) when it went to a group of girls who paraded out wearing haltertops and hot skirts and threw their bellybuttons around for the entire Temple to see. I felt very sorry for the poor monks who were peeking out from the monetary dorms. No it was not the haltertops and hotskirts that earned them the prize, it was the fact that they did something different then gyrating but actually making their arms the most active part of the act and not looking like they were dragged out of bed at three in the morning to perform.

The judgment of the contest was partially from a few judges and partially from the number of paper necklaces that the dancers each won. How to “win” a paper necklace? Well, you could buy a mess of the things and throw them on the necks of the dancers in a custom that might have been imported directly from Samoa. This meant, of course, that it was the richest performers (or rather, the performers with the richest friends) who would win the “popularity prize”. All the CLC people scraped together what we could, but the collection that we were able to hurl onto stage pathetic in comparison with the other kids. I felt justified when the winner of the popularity prize didn't make it to the finals.

2-3 February

Visa run (see next entry)

4 February

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

5 February

Today the girls gave their presentations that I asked them to write, and I was very proud of them. I took a $100 donation that I received from the lucrative “Let's scam MALI on the price of the plane ticket to Thailand by editing the email in Word and inflating the price” fund and told them that they each had to write a proposal of how to spend the $100. Whoever had the best and most useful proposal would get the money. They worked in groups of three and I listened, pen ready, about to write down the million things that each proposal was missing. I was very impressed when I found that there were few holes in their proposals (aside from the fact that I knew that their price predictions were probably bogus). I was so proud of them when they presented a history of the problem, why the problem was a problem, what their solution was, and why the solution was needed.

Aside from the quality of the reports, the highlight was that Thai speakers have a difficult time pronouncing “v” and so I spent the whole hour feeling like I was watching Pilate from “Live of Brain. First I had to suppress my giggles as Rosy stood up and told us why we needed a “wegtable garden” that would supplement our vegetables requirements. After this I got to find out why a “wollyball court” would help with the happiness and the health of the students. Hearing the proposal about the need for an additional bathroom wasn't quite so amusing, but probably the most needed.

6 February

Who knows? This place is full of surprises! Stay tuned!!

Make a Run for the Border!

Because Thailand doesn't have an embassy or a councilate in Yemen, I was forced to get a regular 30-day visa when I entered the country. Thailand's visa extension rule is simple: you have to cross a border before your visa runs out, and when you do you get an additional 30-day stamp. You used to be able to do this as many times as you wanted, but they recently put a new 90-day restriction in place (more on this later). Even with the new restriction, “border-runs” are part of the Thai Expat way of life, and I got to experience it for the first time this weekend.

(Note: As most of the time during this adventure was spent in a car, the pictures on this site are from Mae Sai, a Thai-Burmese bordertown that I had to get to to get the stamp, and have no relation to the story. Also, if you are reading this because you need to get a Thai visa extension from Pai or Mae Hong Son, then I encourage you to read this.)

My two options were Mae Sai, a border town about 9 hours away from Mae Hong Son, or Mae Sot, another border town (the place where I first arrived-- you remember, good food and bird-shitty temples) that is about 16 hours away. At first glance the choice seems obvious, but my experience was so lousy getting to Mae Sai that I am going to take the extra hours on the bus next time I have to go through this BS.

First, we had to get to Pai. I never wrote about Pai, but I will say that I spent one night there and it is competing with Mukulla, Yemen, as my least favorite town in the world. It's the Hard Rock Cafe of Thailand-- carefully set up to give tourists the impression of what they think that Thailand should be without providing the inconvenience of actual Thailand. The striking thing about the town is that the only Thai people are selling things on the street-- selling things that no self-respecting Thai person would actually wear (aside from the people who are selling them) or own. There are a few Thai's who head to Pai thinking that since all the Westerns go there it must be “trendy”. And when you are there, you get about as much of a feel for Thai culture as you would watching Andrew Lloyd Webber's rock-opera remake of “The King and I”. The only thing more annoying then the town are the smelly dreadlocked hippies with hot shorts and halter tops wandering around and saying things like “Thailand, man, it's like such a trip... I can like totally feel my inner consciousness and aura bleeding out. Hey, let's hit that theme coffee house back there.”

So you can imagine my horror when getting off the bus (three hours from Mae Hong Son, my hometown) of being told among the hippies at the travel agency who wanted to “experience Laos” (doesn't anyone just GO anywhere anymore?) that there were no seats on the Mae Sai-Pai bus.

Well, actually there was one. But I couldn't ditch my housemate Sabrina, could I?

Turns out I could. After I told her three times to take the ticket, I ran back and bought it for myself using the thin justification that my visa was about to run out the next day and she had about three more days (a choice which saved me 500 baht, as it turns out.) I just couldn't stand the idea of a night in Pai. The last time we stayed in Pai we had to share an overpriced freezing cabin. Once the blankets got warm it was okay until the hippies came back and started blasting Coldplay and Dave Matthews while playing along on the guitar. (Where did they even GET the stupid guitars? I was shoving books down my pants to get around the weight limit.)

Anyway, my car left at 10PM. I did the math in my head. Six hours there, six back, and one hour in Pai. For those of you with a college degree that is thirteen hours. If I was leaving at 10, then I should get back at 11, twelve at the latest-- right? I checked with the women and she told me that the bus got back at four or five.

Say what?

She pulled out a map and showed me that the trip to Chiang Khong (a border town on Laos) was about eight hours away. That's great, I told her, but I wasn't going to Laos, I was going to Mae Sai, which was SIX hours away. She agreed with me, it was six hours, but FIRST the bus was going to Chiang Khong, and then swung back to Mae Sai to get there at around 7 in the morning. And of course at this point there was nothing to be done.

I wasn't upset about the time, I was actually more worried about the 4 o'clock arrival time. The last bus out of this layer of Hell called Pai was at 4. Would I miss the bus? A quick conference with the driver and the woman turned back with a smile and told be that sometimes the bus was late. The Mae Hong Son bus, I asked? That didn't make me feel better. No, she said, the Mae Sai bus. Maybe it would be back at four, and I could get my other bus, and then smiled as if everything was okay. I hate Pai. And now it looked like I might have to spend another night there after all.

With this new deadline in place, I personally did a hippie round-up and herded everyone onto the van and we left two minutes early. Not much can be said about the bus except that it was freezing. The brousure for the visa-run “express” advertised an “air-conditioned van” but unfortunatly this was not a plus in Thailand during the cold season. And the bus was naturally air-conditioned-- there was no heat. Mae Sot was looking better and better every minute.

My body was numb by the time we got to Chiang Khong. Although I wasn't technically a customer of the establishment that we stopped at to drop the Laos “experiencers” off, I decided that no one needed to know that and took advantage of their offer of free coffee and breakfast. Free coffee, anyway, but the water heater was empty. I poured the rest of my water into the thing and started to warm it up. As soon as I did this, the hippie scum started to spoon instant coffee into cups and stood around the maker. I chased them away with my empty water bottle and told them to go find their own damn hot water. I made no friends on that trip.

We finally got to the border, and I had a private talk with each of the riders begging them to return on time. I made it sound like there was 30 starving refugees waiting with tears in their eyes for my return, and even a slight delay would get them hauled off to participate in unspeakable forced labour. (In truth, they would have been tickled to find that I was stuck in Pai and they had no class.) They agreed (I am sure that I had an unpleasant nickname at this point) and we all went off to get a new stamp.

I decided that since I was there, I may as well go into Burma. If you are reading this and still planning on making the trip, (just don't use aYa!) then I recommend that you give Burma a miss and instead head up the hill to check out the impressive temples. There was one that I didn't have time to go to which was on top of a hill and gives a great view (so the guidebook tells me) of Burma and Mae Sai. Burma, on the other hand, isn't really that impressive although it does feel different. The people were more... buzzy. It was like they all had spent the morning drinking coffee. I don't know if that was because I had just been in a car for the last ten hours and was experiencing a bit of culture shock. Burma pointedly drives on the right (a jab to Britain, who used to colonize them) and also sets their clock 30 minutes ahead of Thailand, for reasons that I don't know. To get to Burma I had to surrender my passport and they printed out a temporary passport with the scariest picture of myself that I have ever seen. I really hope that they don't keep that stuff on record.

Everyone was on time, thank God, and by 8:30 we were off. The trip back was uneventful, except that I got sick on the trip and everyone hated me so much by that time that I had to beg three times for a tissue. I swear that the driver was trying to make me throw up-- he seemed to be pumping the accelerator in time with the music. I had taken a ton of seasickness pills but they were practically placebos. I hate third world medicine.

I got back to Pai at 2:30 and ran into Sabrina a few minutes later, and I gave her a few tips (wear all your clothes, grab the front seat as soon as the Laos people leave, bring your own water for coffee, etc) and we sat to wait for the 4:00 bus, which was thirty minutes late. By 9 o'clock I was back in my room at Ban Nai Soi, cuddled up with a cat and a book and another 30 days before I have to go through this BS again.

Dear Friends

Hey there,

Thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes and made donations to CLC in my name. I am actually very behind in emails right now (I've been busy and got a rash of emails on my birthday!) and I am planning to get back to all of you within the next couple of days. I just want you to know that your kindness has not been overlooked and it's great to have so much support even after I have been gone for so long.

I promise I will get back to all of you very soon!

Wat Tamwua

This weekend I finally realized my year-long dream of going on a meditation retreat. I am not sure if only a weekend can be considered a “retreat”, but it was all the time that I could spare. On Friday I packed a bag and headed to Mae Hong Son on a personal pilgrimage. Wat Tamwua was about an hour north of the city and an easy bus ride away. I had noticed it coming back from Pai and decided to check it out.

Wat Tamwua is a beautiful forest monestary set close enough to the road to be reachable but far enough away so that you are officially in the middle of nowhere. After getting dropped off I walked through a serene forest for about thirty minutes until I came to the place. Described in the Rough Guide as a “country club”, I don't think that the description is really fair. But I can see why it was described as such, for the place was really beautiful and seemed much nicer then simple monks should be allowed to enjoy. But it is a natural beauty that haunts the place, and one can hadly blame a monk for having good natural taste.

Right when I arrived, I met Miguel. Miguel is a Spaniard who came to spend a few days at Wat Tamwua and wound up spending more then ten days there, with no plans for leaving until his visa runs out. He and I became fast friends. His strong, friendly Spanish accent made me smile and quickly bite my tongue before I asked him if he came to the place seeking a six-fingered man.

The Monestary had a rule agaist eating after the noon hour, and I expected that this would extend to drinks, like Ramadan for Mulims. I did not-- I was brought to the main house where I met Laung Thai, the main monk, and Sanaa, a secondary Monk. Sanaa's name was really east for me to remember, Laung Thai told me with a laugh that he had his name for “a long time”, and that's how I remembered it. I had a coffee and was then shown to my room, or rather my mansion. Although there was plenty of room, I was put into a massive space with a private toilet, which was hardly what I was expecting. I was ready to move in permanently at that very moment.

The schedule was also a nice surprise. I had expected to be woken at 4, but instead we were allowed to sleep in until 7. We were immediately fed a light breakfast, after a ceremonial offering of food to the monks. Normally, monks will leave each morning with their begging bowls to collect alms-- a monk can not eat anything that is not given to him. We would gather with bowls of rice in a line and the monks would come and walk down the line as we would spoon rice into their bowls. They would say a prayer and we would head to the kitchen to eat.

There were four westerners-- Miguel and I, plus an Israeli women named Tamar and a dreadlocked Californian hippie named Adam. (When asked what country he was from he said “California”. Oh, how I don't miss America.) In addition, there was a group of women who came from Burma. None of them spoke English or even Thai, so their story I got third and forth hand from Miguel, who told me that they had slipped over the border and staying here rather then at a refugee camp. They were extremely sweet women, ranging from a little girl who looked about 12 to an older women whose teeth had long fallen out. These women would cook meals, wash, and when they were feeling generous they would let me help.

There were also two other monks whose name I did not catch. One was a little boy who was given the option of being a monk or a soldier. I felt that he chose correctly, but it's a hard decision for someone so young to make. He also was learning Thai and Miguel was teaching him enough English to greet the foreigners.

There were three guided meditations every day. In the morning we would go to the “Buddha Cave” which was a short hike up the nearby mountain, and it pictured here. There was a panorama of the Buddha's life complete with a statue of his enlightenment under the Bodhi tree. There we did standing and walking medications. In the afternoon we had guided meditations and personal instruction, and at night there was chanting and more meditation. I can't say that I had any miracles of enlightenment while I was there, but it was really relaxing. What was most interesting was learning about monastic life. Although I am not sure how authentic it was, it was probably as authentic as I will ever be able to see. I was grateful to the monks for opening their home to us and especially to me, a woman.

Back in Yemen, I used to complain at two of my Muslim male friends, Tamar and Derrik, about women covering. If they couldn't handle looking at women, I would tell them, then that was their problem and it was wrong to make women cover head to toe in black or spend their lives in the kitchen just because men can't control themselves. I suggested that their either wear veils over their own eyes or lock themselves up rather then doing this to the women.

In the monestary I discovered that this is exactly what the men did. Because they were worried that feelings of desire would arise, monks live away from society in groups of men and don't allow women to touch them, sit close to them, or allow themselves to be alone with a woman. Unlike my Yemeni friends, men would take the burden on themselves and women were allowed to frolic lustfully around Thailand, provided that they left the men in orange alone. I also discovered that this was just as annoying, if not more, then the alternative that I found in the Middle East.

Rather then being hidden, I was treated as a leper. And because this was their house I had to abide by their rules, which meant that many areas (the best areas) were off-limits to me after dusk. So while Miguel was able to hang out with the monks all night-- typing up translations for westerners and chilling with them in the meditation cave-- me and my feminine wiles were banished to my mansion to sulk. During the day I could talk with the monks but only if another man was present and only if I sat more then an arm's length away. If I wanted to give something to a monk (like a pen) I had to place it on the floor or give it to Miguel to hand to them. It was enough to make me think about digging out my scarf, veil, and balto just to sit among them as a big black meditating blob.

What I didn't understand is how the monks (one of which had meditated for three weeks without sleep and the other having meditated for ten hours a day for ten years) had strong enough minds to maintain mindfulness for days at a time and yet could not be with me for three hours after dark without losing control. (Especially ME, with my gray hair, sweaty, smelly clothes and bug-bitten legs.)

I am planning to go back soon. Next week I have to do a visa run (has it been a month already?) and I think that I will visit the week after. It was truly a home away from home. I just hope that I get a smaller room.

Happy Birthday to Me!

As some of you know, and as some of you have just learned, today is my birthday. I had a nice birthday, my flatmate Katrina woke me a little cake garnished with Oreos and two temple candles, and tonight we released a fire-kite. I would have taken a picture of it, but it was to dark. It was a little mini hot-air balloon. There is a torch at the bottom, you set the torch on fire, it fills the balloon and the thing floats away. He wrote wishes and blessings on it and sent it up.

As for my birthday, some of you have kindly offered to send me packages or gifts. I really appreciate it, but really I have just about everything I need here in Mae Hong Son! However, if you really want to send me something, it would mean a lot to me if you made a donation to the organization that I work with, the Ban Nai Soi Community Learning Center, to help keep the school running smoothly and help the kids that I am staring to think of as my family. You can make a donation here.

The nice thing about donating is that 100% of the money will go to the school. Any donation that you make will probably go to food for the kids (about $5 feeds everyone for a day) or perhaps will go to buy blankets and sweatshirts for the cold season that Thailand is having now. Or, maybe it will be used to buy a bag of cement that will allow the students to make mud bricks and build a new classroom so that we can help even more students next year! It might go to buy supplies, such as the new notebooks that the boys received and are showing off below. The “worst” case scenario is that it will go to pay off some debts that the school acquired when it was built. But the nice thing is that the money will go to help the school-- there is no overhead here. And every little bit that you can give will help-- CLC was initially built with only $10,000, and much of that was for the purchase of the land.

If you do give money, I won't know that you gave it-- but it would really mean a lot to me if you did. The students are taking wonderful care of me and helping them will be helping me. I am very excited about working at the school and I am very excited about how my 31st year is starting out. CLC is exactly the place that I have been looking for for the last two years.

So as a birthday present, please whip out your calculators and figure out how much money I just saved you (don't forget shipping!) and send it this way. Thank you to everyone for your support and love during this time, and I wish you all a very happy and peaceful New Year.

(I know it's been a while since an update, one is coming I promise...)

First Day of Teaching

As the title indicates, today was my first day of teaching at CLC. I have three classes, one with a group of level one students who have been studying English for about five months. I am also teaching Social Studies to some level 3 students (although they are sort of false beginners, because they have never had a native English teacher before, or a teacher who can speak with much skill) as well as to a level 2 class.

My students are bright and eager and incredibly fun to teach. I like my level 1 class in particular, which is a class with eight women and two men-- a welcome change from the reverse situation that I often found at MALI. But what really won my hearts was when I asked them what they wanted to do when their class at CLC was finished in a year. I ask all my students this question, and was used to either a money-oriented answer that I got at Yemen or a totally non-committal answer that I got in Samoa. Instead, these kids spoke with excitement about going to university when their time at this school was finished. When asked about what they wanted to study, their answers varied from talk about being a nurse to studying community development. All the girls expressed a desire to return to their village or refugee camp to help their communities. Some of them talked about coming back to CLC to become teachers. And they all had a strong desire to peacefully better the situation that they were in. It was an inspiring start to the school year.

Without question, Rosy is competing for my affections as my favorite student. Rosy is an incredible girl. Only sixteen, her father started this school two years ago and then suffered a major motorcycle accident which left him incapacitated for a few months as he had surgery. He had already sunk his life savings into the school but without him there was no one to run it. His wife was willing but she spoke no English to talk with the NGO's that supported the school. So the responsibility fell on his fourteen-year-old daughter, who was one of the schools first students.

Although her father is almost fully recovered, Rosy serves at both star student and Academic Dean (and does a hell of a lot better job then the 30+ Academic Dean at MALI, I might add.) She plans the classes, sets out the schedule, coordinates the volunteers (it was her that I spoke with when I was coming up) and even schedules shopping visits into town to buy blankets and sweatshirts for the students that need them.

When I asked Rosy about what she wanted to do, she spoke with passion about the future of the school and her plans for it. Rosie plans to study education and community development at University and then turn right around and continue the running of the school. She is very aware that this school is one of the limited opportunities that people of Burmese, Kareni, Chan (and other ethnic groups that are being persecuted in Burma) have to get a decent education. Without this school, they would not receive any education at all. Without an education, they are at high risk of becoming one of the thousands of workers who slave in sweatshops, mines, or who turn to prostitution. To risk a clique, while most girls her age are covering their walls with teen-band posters and worrying about who will as them to the prom Rosy is more concerned about the future of the people around her and weather her friends are warm enough at night and are getting enough to eat. Needless to say, I have no questions about leaving Yemen and the USA and coming to this place.

And while I was working on this, I heard a chanting and went out to investigate. I crashed a Chinese class in progress that was being given by one of the other students, Parn. It was standing room only as the students eagerly repeated the sounds of the different Chinese characters. Even after 5 hours of school and 3 hours of work and chores the students still found the energy to sit down and learn yet another language in addition to the Burmese and English that they are currently tacking. I was amazed and their devotion and energy and hoped that I would be able to match it.

The Ghost Princess

Sabrina (my house mate) went on a walk today to check out the banana trees. The poor girl had been having a hard time due to the fact that she is vegetarian and for a few days could only eat the rice that was served. (I was fine with it, more food for me) Fearing she would get scurvy, she went looking for fruit or vegetables and found instead a small house on top of the hill. She was surprised to find the small, lighted house complete with a bed and came and asked me about it. I didn't know, and after seeing it, I was just as confused, so we went and asked the daughter of the man who owns this place, Rosie.

Rosie is a sixteen-year-old girl, giggly and shy as one might expect a girl of her age to be. After asking her, she quickly told us that she would explain, and that these were her beliefs and that she did not expect us to agree or believe if we didn't want to. She told us that 400 years ago, there was a Chan Princess that was married to a Karen prince. They both lived and died on the grounds that the school was built on. Although Rosie didn't know very much history about the prince and princess, she did tell us that nothing had been built on that land since they lived there because the land was haunted by the spirit of the princess. Regardless, the school was built two years ago and the founder believed that because his intentions were pure the princess would not mind.

Shortly after this, the people living at the school started to have bad, violent dreams. One of the volunteers actually woke to see a woman with long, black hair pull open her mosquito net and then disappear. After this, the family decided that something had to be done. They built a small house for the ghost of the princess to live, as well as a small house on the left for her servants to care for her, and a house on the right for her soldiers to protect her.

In the house is everything that the princess might need. There is a bed, and a mirror because the princess was very beautiful and would probably like to look at her. There is a bow, because her prince was a hunter and seeing the bow would remind her of him. And every Tuesday (unless she is menstruating), Rosie will go to the house and leave an offering of food, tea and water, but no meat-- the princess doesn't eat meat. Around the house are bricks which Rosie told us were 400 years old-- from the time that the princess lived. Like most spirit houses in Thailand, the house is built on the best piece of land. It is on the top of a hill where one can see the fields of rice and other plants, the river, and the mountains beyond. The view and the house compete to be the most beautiful thing there.

To get to the house, there is a gate that is guarded by tiger and something that we think is a giant. Rosie said that it was a “big person” with large teeth, and used her fingers to show us, looking like she was describing Kyle Bannoff, the rabbit from the Cave of Eternal Peril, with its “nasty big pointed teeth.” Whatever it is, if you cross the gate with bad intentions, then the tiger or the lion will cause you to have bad dreams. One person went through the gate on a motorbike and quickly had an accident, and so I guess that sometimes the tiger and the giant work in more direct ways.

The night, I had very bad dreams-- in one dream I was in an argument with another person that became so fierce that I actually screamed at the person using my actual voice and woke myself up. Later, when going to the gate, I stumbled and hurt my toe just as the gate came into view. This made me worry-- was I a bad person? Were my intentions not pure? I got to the house and explained to the princess that I was only here to help and got back unhurt. Hopefully we have reached an understanding now and and Princess will send me good dreams tonight.

Nai Soi Village

The owner of the school sort of ticked me off today-- there was a “Children's day” celebration and I was under the impression that he was going to be with his son who attends one of the local schools. At around 11:30 I finally noticed that the population of the school went from about 20 to about 5. I noted this in my journal and then went off to investigate. The kids that were left told me that they had gone to town on “Children's day” and that they were all off doing competitions and having a good time while we (the new volunteer, Sabrina, and I) were left with nothing to do. Sabina showed up yesterday. She's from Germany, and she is really neat. I am glad that we get along because we are going to really be depending on each other! We already have a few trips planned and I think that her being here will make this experience a lot more fun. (Don't worry Sonia, you are still my main bitch.) I was ticked because I would have loved to go.

Now I had gone to “town” the day before-- “town” being just two small shops and a school and no one who could speak English. I had told the owner of the school that I was going and he let me go reluctantly. However, later he had a change of heart and decided to send a student after me on a motorbike. The student found me just as I was coming out of the first shop. I went back with her and told the owner that he didn't really have to send students after me, and that I was capable of walking a kilometer by myself. He told me that he was worried about my safety. I thought, but did not say, that if was so concerned about my safety then perhaps he should have sent an extra helmet along with the students who went to pick me up. Ironically, riding back with her without a helmet was about 100 times more dangerous then just walking home. I was told that there had a been a teacher who was killed-- I found out later that not only was she Thai, she had been killed in the other side of the country. Being told that I couldn't walk alone in this area was ludicrous after Chicago, Yemen, and even Samoa (where the dogs would attack you. Here, they can't be bothered to even raise their heads.)

So I grabbed Sabrina and dragged her with me to the village. She insisted that we tell someone that we were leaving, so we obediently found and adult that couldn't speak English and told her where we were going, and she smiled at us and waved us off. In town, we had a giggle as the “dangerous” townspeople first looked surprised to see us then waved eagerly. Sabrina told me that being so close to the border was a dangerous spot, according to the web, but according to our own four eyes it looked about as hazardous as my living room. A helicopter did buzz by, however, to warn us that we were only 10km from the border in an area that was one of the larger smuggling zones for heroine as well as being under the jurisdiction of more then one impromptu army.

Sabrina bought laundry soap and I found instant coffee (the mornings here are feezing!) and we wandered a bit more, looking for our kids. We didn't find our kids, but we did find a Thai school that was having a celebration. There was a dance competition, which consisted of a bunch of little asian kids hopping around. Another game included a orange eating contest of some sort, shown here. Sabrina was immediately approached by a little girl who first gave her name as a series of unlearnable Thai sylables, and miracously became “Mary” when it became clear that we didn't have the skills to master her name. Our 11-year-old guide took as around and introduced us to the teachers and showed us her classroom. Hopefully, we will be able to teach at the Thai schools at some point. I, for one, would be very interested. They had Buddhism as part of their curriculum (which both horrified me as a libral who believes that religion should be kept out of the school and fascinated me as a budding Buddhist) with a poster that showed different historical images of the Buddha and diagrams showing how to pray, or whatever you do before a Buddhist statue.


We had an impromptu English lesson, where Mary showed us her name and my own in English and Thai. After seeing the students struggle with “Sabrina”, I am glad that I have a short, easy name (although I wish it wasn't the same name as the Korean dictator). After that, we came home where we were glad to find that we weren't missed.