Water

     One Christmas tradition that I miss immensely is the Heifer card my father always puts in my stocking. For a decade or longer, my parents have bought me a hive of bees, a gaggle of ducks, or a trio of rabbits that were given to an impoverished family somewhere in the world to promote self-sufficiency and the ‘pass the gift’ concept that Heifer has made famous. This sort of charitable Christmas is something I love and cling to about my families yuletide traditions. I have always hoped that as I age such gifts will replace stuff under the Christmas tree.... so far, so good thanks to my folks. 
     Jimmy and I really don’t do gifts. He loves to buy me flowers (no objection there) and will often bestow me small, practical presents... a pineapple when I have a cough or a beloved replacement stainless steel water jug for my birthday. Last Christmas we exchanged hand-knit items. Clearly, our gift giving style is pretty low key.... something I value tremendously. This year I decided to extend my family’s charitable gift tradition to our relationship. 
     So, earlier this month, I bought him water. Sound crazy? Hardly. It was perfect. As an environmental engineer-in-training he specializes in water quality issues. Furthermore, he is the sort of altruistic soul who wants to use his academic knowledge to serve humanity (No wonder I love him, huh?). Many months ago he had mentioned a new-ish non-profit that he admired... Charity:Water. 
     The more I read about this organization, the more I realized what incredibly important thing they are doing. Water is one of the most fundamental requirements for existence yet it also serves as one of the most efficient means of parasite transmission. 6,000 people die each day from diseases that they acquire from their drinking water. We Westerners don’t have to worry about such things. Our water is piped into our homes potable. As Jimmy likes to say, Americans could drink from our toilet bowls and have cleaner water than the majority of people on the planet. But, for 1 in 8 people in this world, clean water is a dream. 
       They drink water that you and I wouldn’t let our pets consume. Water that you and I would hold our noses around. They walk long distances to collect water in 30lb+ jugs that they must then haul back to their homes. These collectors, the vast majority of whom are women or girls, spend precious energy collecting something that most of us have never had to think twice about. They deserve better. I’ve touted that many things are human rights: safety, freedom, love, and healthcare to name a few. I now realize that before someone can have any of those things they have to be healthy. Clean Water is where individual health begins. It is the most fundamental of human rights... a right that for all of my life I have taken for granted. 


I have one wish for my upcoming 23rd birthday: Water. My dream would be to have 23 people donate $23 to Charity:Water. 


Want to help? Visit my page HERE to donate.
Need more reasons to pitch in? Charity:Water says it best. Check out their page: WHY WATER?


And, to continue the trend of videos in my blogposts, 2 videos from Charity:Water:
Imagine New York City without Clean, Safe Drinking Water


A History of Charity:Water and The September Campaign



And, if you are having trouble with the links above find my page at: http://mycharitywater.org/kathryn

Bah-Humbug... Or Not

      Christmas and I have a complicated relationship. It begins with the fact that, until I was 17, I had never spent a Christmas at home. Not once. Sure, this meant I spent the holiday in the Florida Keys or, as my grandparents aged, in the Florida panhandle. Tough life, right? Well, it had its moments. For reasons far more complicated than this post can cover, I have always fantasized about just not having Christmas. No travel, no expectation, no obligation, no consumerism, no dashed-hopes, no familial tension, no sad memories of people no longer present, no acknowledgement that December 25th is any different from the other 364 days of the year. I fancifully thought that Thailand would offer such a yuletide retreat...
       You can imagine my horror when on November 1st the largest, ritziest mall at Siam Center (the holy ground of Bangkok consumerist worship) erected their 4-story, oversized-ornament be-decked Christmas tree. Wait, WHAT?! I am in a buddhist country for goodness sake! I mourned a bit on that day. Then, I put on my grinch cap. The city was then slowly consumed by Christmas ridiculousness; LED lights were strung haphazardly over the entire lanscape, poinsettias placed in every office, karaoke carols blared from every speaker and greetings of ‘Merry Christmas and Happy New Year’ sung at the cash registers of more retail establishments than I care to recall. Any hope of a skipped holiday was pummeled over and over and over again. I got myself into a stink about it, considered a full scale Christmas revolt then did the ever-so-sensible thing of posting about my ‘bah-humbug’ attitude on Facebook. Not 5 minutes later the Pubic Relations coordinator of Mercer posted a video about a soon-to-be Mercer graduate who is living with Cerebral Palsy, has a fabulous attitude about life, and left me in a pile of teary toilet paper. Shame on me, I thought. 
     So, I just let go. I realized I was working myself into a tizzy about a holiday I really wanted to be indifferent about and that, consequently, I was defeating my own intentions. Lo and behold when Christmas morning rolled around I woke up and it was just like any other Saturday. No tree had magically appeared on my balcony, no one was outside my door caroling, no miracle snow dotted the cityscape. But, truth be told, there was something deep down inside me that missed the typical Christmas I had so longed to escape. I missed the sight of a fresh Christmas tree, bedecked with Brasstown carvings. I missed the smell of the pine incense that my mother burns in holders shaped like log cabins. I missed the aroma of spiced peach salad, smoked oyster stuffing, and dutch almond cookies. I yearned for a chunk of pickled herring and a toast of Asti champagne. I missed my quilted, hand-made stocking... the single continuity (besides my parents over-abundance of love) in my Christmas memories. I missed my father’s clever gift giving and my mothers handwriting on the To/From: cards. I missed all the little things that made a Doornbos Family Christmas just that. 
    So, like any good dutch girl, I lounged in the apartment, quickly got bored, watched clips of “A White Christmas”, tidied up my things and scrubbed my tile floors to Calvinist clean perfection. That night, I sat at my favorite Pad Thai street vendor and had a heaping portion. She didn’t know it was Christmas but still managed to put out a plate of utter deliciousness. And despite a twinge of longing, I was completely satisfied with my 2010 Christmas dinner. It was perfect for me right then.
    I capped off  my night by watching an extra spectacular drag show and dancing until the wee hours of the next morning at DJ Station. Clubbing on Christmas? Only in Bangkok. Bah-humbug be banished.

Koh Chang

      The beaches of Thailand serve as the epicenter of backpacker legend. By such standards, no where else on earth can you experience the serenity, beauty and affordability that Thai islands can offer. I’d love to tell you that is a farce. Really, I would. 
      I’ve read the books, seen the movies and been skeptical of the hype. Surely to goodness after such epic build-up the beaches here have been spoiled by an endless flow of heaven-seekers, developers, and scam artists, right? Right? Well, I can’t speak for them all... I’ve only had the opportunity to visit Koh Chang, the country’s largest non-mainland landmass. Let me tell you, all that magical hype is true; at least there. 
      I have spent 16ish Christmases in the Florida Keys, visited East Coast barrier islands, taken a Caribbean island cruise, backpacked on the Costa Rican coastline, and spent two spring breaks on Ambergis Caye, Belize. I’d like to think I am a North American tropical island aficionado (please note how small this niche is, I’d hate to imply I am an expert in anything). When I decided to take a retreat to Koh Chang, I was expecting a ‘same island atmosphere, different side of the world’ experience. Wrong. Completely, utterly, and totally false. 
      I was completely blown away by Koh Chang. In fact, I worry that one day I will wake up and realize that my experiences there were a figment of my imagination. It is THAT spectacular. 
      The island is a microcosm of beauty. Jungled mountains meet waveless, turquoise seas via mostly rocky, sometimes sandy outcrops. The vistas from the beaches offer intriguing glimpses of other mountains arising in the distance. Snorkeling havens dot the map and, having experienced four different locale, they teem with biodiversity. Development is minimal, transportation is limited, and the fruit is scrumptious. My response to inquiries about my long weekend went something like, “If there is a heaven, I hope it is Koh Chang”. That pretty much sums it up.
      My enjoyment of the trip was aided by the fact that I had a splendid traveling partner. Ryan, a fellow Mercer alumni, didn’t mind the odd traveling hours, seat-of-your-pants planning style or the sometimes eccentric company. We ran into some minor traveling snafus which might have driven some to annoyance (or worse) but we managed to go-with-the-flow and just enjoy the moment. Major props to him for tolerating me. 
So, the island was incredible. Enough said about that. One of the reasons it might be so well hidden from the bustling tourism industry here is that it is pretty tricky to get to. Enough of a hassle that it probably deters the vast majority of short-term travelers. Believe it or not, in many ways, it is easier to go to southern Thailand for an island experience. Planes, trains, buses, and vans are constantly whisking people out of Bangkok, bound for some of the better known southern islands. One can buy a single ticket that gets them from Bangkok to the beach all in one fair swoop. Easier than thinking. 
     How does one get to Koh Chang, you might inquire? Well, it requires a great deal of patience, some luck, and a willingness to just go with the flow. For Ryan and I this involved an epic interchange of 3 types of transport, 4 legs of a one way journey over the course of 8ish hours, starting at 11pm on a Friday. Here’s how we managed to arrive in paradise:


1.     Bus-Bangkok to Trat. This bus left MoChid Bus Terminal at 11:30pm on Friday night. Ryan and I were the only foreigners on board and were thus privileged to sit in seats #1 and #2. These seats seem lovely at first. One gets a full view out the windshield and the benefit of no seats in front of you. 3.5 hours into the trip we were both shivering, knees to our chins, thanks to the arctic air-conditioning unit and the bus attendants failure to give us the blankets that everyone else was curled up in. Naturally, we realized this when we were 20kms from our destination. Not even kidding. Our hopes to snooze on this bus were dashed from the start. No biggie.
2.     Taxi and Layovers-Trat to Laem Ngo Ferry: We arrived, blue-lipped, at the Trat bus station to a cackling group of foreigners who had clearly tempered their trip with some extra large Changs (I was wondering why I hadn’t done the same myself at that point). It was 3:30ish in the morning and I inquired with the taxi drivers about getting to the ferry. He gruffly pointed to the group of white people. Of course, I thought, every farang here is probably headed to the island. I had mixed feelings about this revelation. I tip-toed past the sleeping bathroom attendant, brushed my teeth, and tried to convince myself that I had, in fact, gotten a refreshing nap on the bus. Soon enough the farangs were herded into 3 waiting soong-tioews, bench-seat, pick-up truck taxis. We all marveled at how chilly it was... probably under 80F, downright cold compared to Bangkok. Since the ferry didn’t run until 6am, we took a breakfast break at a roadside restaurant. Our breakfast of choice? Toast, scrambled eggs, and a large beer. Perfect vacation starter. Added bonus: first western style breakfast (other than the one I cooked) I have had since staying in a hotel. 
3.      Ferry-Leam Ngo to Koh Change Pier: This was eventful in two ways... Seeing the mountains of Koh Chang rise out of the morning mist and experiencing embarrassment of sharing nationality with the drunken, trivia-obsessed, extra messy American chick whose every slurred word was heard by the entire ferry. “What is the 26th tallest building in the world?”.... “I don’t care.”
4.      Taxi-Koh Chang Pier to BangBao: My only request was to be in whichever taxi was not also transporting aforementioned american drunkard. Success.  The ride was significantly more bumpy, curvy and haphazard than the previous but I was so excited that at this point it didn’t matter. We took in the vistas, uttered lots of ooos and ahhhs, and struggled to wrap out heads around the fact that we were conscious and not in dreamland. Our selected accommodation was at the precise opposite side of the island from the ferry so our ride was extra long. It was so worth it. We were dropped off in BangBao, a sleepy fishing village by 7:30am had found our bungalow by 8:00 and were on the beach by 9:00. Perfection.


Was the minor travel hassle worth it? Totally. (Just don't tell anyone)


I am scheming some way to plant myself (and my laptop) in hammock for paper writing sometime towards the end of my Fulbright appointment. Don’t be surprised if I take up residence there for a couple weeks. 

Tick Collection: Thai Style

      Back in third grade I was prompted to write about ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’. (Weren’t we all?)  You see, my entrance to nerd-dom started early. Really early. Even at the tender age of 8 I had my life planned out. I was going to be, wait for it.......... a HERBOLOGIST. Of course, that is an entirely made-up term. I defined this career as stomping through the jungle in exotic locales looking for plants that had medicinal properties. So very 8-year-old me. Screw dreams of being a prima ballerina, I set my sights on science early. Can you imagine the sort of response my desire garnered in my rural, WNC, public school teachers and peers? Yeah, I was that kid. Make my mistake, I was never ridiculed or bullied... well, not any more than is normal in the cruel world of children’s social interactions. But I was tagged at very early age as being a little, in Southern geniality terms, interesting.
      Fair enough. I am a little odd. Cool by me. 
      But, you know what is really cool?! 14 years later I AM getting paid to stomp through the rainforest. That’s right, I might not be a ‘herbologist’ but, gosh-darn-it, I am living the dream. Poetic justice or just coincidence? Who knows. And, frankly, I don’t care. What concerns me is that I got to go tick collecting in Thailand. So freaking cool.


Where? Northeastern Thailand. 
When? November 27-December 2nd, 5 days
Who? Chalao, Bpioo, Mee and I
Provinces? Chiayaphum, Phetchabun, Loei, Phitsanulok, and Uttaradit (And a glimpse of Laos!)
National Parks? PhuKhieo Wildlife Sanctuary, NaamNaao National Park, PhuSuan National Park, PhuSoiDao National Park, NamtokChatTrakan National Park
Ticks Collected? 200+ between the 4 of us
Ticks parasitized by? More than I care to admit. I stopped counting after I pulled nymph #40 off my stomach. We all managed to get a number of nymphs. Chalao has the brunt of the after effects. He is still dealing with bite site side-effects... we’ve been keeping track of his symptoms and documenting the wound progression. We even drew blood and have been doing some testing.
Trip Summarized in One Word: Wonderous. 


I think the pictures will speak for themselves (see video at the end of the post). But I do have a few anecdotes to share that have no equivalent pictorial representation:


The Leech
     I have never really dealt with leeches. In my mind they are creatures that inhabit faraway, watery  places. Sure, I was traipsing through the Thai rainforest but I wasn’t fording rivers.... surely, I would be fine. Wrong. 
     On the first day, our first national park, I was enthusiastically absorbed in leaving no leaf unturned for our pursuit of ticks. I was utterly in my element. We had walked for over an hour and were just about to retrace our way back to the truck. The day had been incredibly successful. Ticks were everywhere. I think at that point we had already found at least 3 genus... not too shabby. I was pretty blissed out and, at first, paid no mind to the wet, cold sensation on my foot. It became annoying enough that I reached down to brush it off. To my horror there was, attached to my foot and engaged in full-body pumping action, a LEECH. 
      I screeched, leapt up into the tell-tale, one-footed, balanced dance of ‘get the hell off’ and managed scare the beejesus out of everyone present. I think I might have even let a four-letter word or two slip. Really, I was a sight to behold. Chalao came to the rescue and procured the critter off my foot. Whew. I would have liked to have stomped it but Chaloa, ever the scientist, wanted to save it for a colleague. He 
      The funniest thing about this whole experience is that I am really, really conscious of ‘keeping face’ around my lab-mates. I try extremely hard to keep an air of academic professionalism. I do not allow myself to act anything less than happy in their presence, no matter what. And yet, there I was, in full blown freakout mode in the middle of the rainforest. So much for saving face. 
     As the trip progressed I acquired more leeches. Lots of them. The visceral, emotional response lessened with each one and I managed to even leave one attached long enough to snap a picture. Make no mistake, they still creep me the heck out. Ew. 


I Am my Father’s Daughter
     To really get the full effect of this story you have to understand that my father is just over 6ft tall and has, for the duration of my relationship with him, always managed to hit is head. If there is a low overhang, the crest of his head will meet it violently. Always. It is basically a running joke in our family that this sort of misfortune always befalls him. 
     Thailand is not made for tall people. And by ‘tall’ I mean anyone over 5’6”. By this definition, I am tall. Way tall. In Bangkok I get by pretty easy. Some buses have a tight head clearance but, mostly, there is no need for me to duck and weave through my daily life. However, in rural areas, things are simply not built to accommodate someone my height. Totally understandable.  Somehow, despite recognizing this fact, my physical actions did not reflect such knowledge. 
      Case and point: We stayed at a simply stunning bungalow near the Thai-Laos border. We arrived there late at night, in the pitch dark. The bungalow was set up in such a manner that one had to step from the group up to a porch and from the porch into the room. Unsurprisingly, the head clearance at both of these thresholds was low.... lower than could accommodate me. 
     So, the first time we inspected the room, I gingerly stepped up to the porch and *SMACK*, crest o’ head meets ceiling beam. Fantastic. I laughed and so did everyone else. It was really par for the course. Then, 15 seconds later, I did it again. Stepping into the bungalow, not even thinking about it, I stood tall and proud. *WAM*. Precisely the same point of contact. Lovely. The dull soreness from the first time around graduated into splitting headache. I laughed and, surprise surprise, so did everyone else... silly American who doesn’t understand her own height. I gobbled 3 ibuprofens and chugged water in hopes that pain would subside. 30 minutes later while I was exiting the bathroom, I hit my head AGAIN. Not even kidding. The impact wasn’t nearly as jarring as the first two times but it was significant and hardly pleasant.  Bpioo and Mee must have thought that I was the most clumsy person they had ever seen. Meanwhile, they dipped in and out of the bathroom with nary a thought of the low threshold. I couldn’t help but be a bit envious.

     The next morning we woke up in Thai heaven. It was misty and, dare I say, pretty chilly out. The porch of the bungalow overlooked a sprawling lotus pond and it was the kind of quiet that makes you wonder if rapture is real. I padded outside, camera in hand and explored the immediate area. On the way back in, I ducked under the first threshold and congratulated myself on being so savvy to remember to do so. Let’s just say I spoke too soon. 10 minutes later, after a brief session of psuedo-meditation on the porch, I attempted to step back inside the bungalow. *CRACK* The entire bungalow structure shuddered under the impact. goddamnit. I erupted into peels of laughter because, if I hadn’t, there was a good chance I would have welled up from frustration/pain. 
     Is such a thing genetic? I have little evidence to prove otherwise. 


The Chicken Head
      If you have been reading regularly, you will have noticed that the frequency of freaky food encounters has decreased. I attribute this partially to my increasing thai language capabilities “mai moo, na ka” and a mostly to my honed eye for mystery meat ingredients. 
      My lab mates understand my vegetarian tendencies and, despite my insistence that they do not, always try to accommodate my dietary finickiness. On this trip we had been eating alot of chicken, which I am okay with while here, but I’ve really never been chicken’s biggest fan. Chalao seemed to read my mind and after two solid days of chicken meals (6 meals straight), started asking for extra veggies... I was both deeply grateful and totally relieved. For the next two days I feasted on local mushrooms, morning glory, eggplant, and squash.... all way better than chicken. One our way back to Bangkok (an epic 600 km road-trip), Chalao was insistent that we stop at a roadside restaurant for a traditional Issan food as our last meal of the trip. Since SomTum, my absolute favorite green papaya salad was sure to be included, I knew it would be a delicious meal regardless of whether it included meat.
      We found the loveliest of restaurants perched on the side of a rice patty. It was empty save for a flock of roving mini-cocks, clearly some specialty breed of chicken, that were much cuter than the usual meat variety that roam everywhere here. One of the most traditional of Issan meals is somtum, baked -over-coals chicken, and sticky rice. The combination is exquisite when done right. Just the right amalgamation of salty, sweet, sour, and spicy. Our meal here was easily the tastiest example I have had the privilege of eating so far. Despite my usual indifference to chicken, this one was cooked to perfection and so perfectly complimented the side dishes that I couldn’t resist a second helping. Chalao, excited by my enthusiasm for the meal, quickly served me up another piece. 
      As I slowly pulled the meat from the bone, arranging forkfuls of equal portions sticky rice, papaya salad and chicken, I had trouble defining the portion of the bird I was eating. (I really shouldn’t be so inquiring) All the bones seemed to be in irregular places and there were ligaments I was not accustomed to dealing with. Finally, I pulled the last bit of crisped skin of the bone and revealed a chicken head, eyelids and wattle intact. It was all I could do not to change my demeanor. I took deep breaths, calmed my queasy stomach, and covered the atrocity with a paper napkin. It was probably the best act of self-control I have made yet. 
      Just when I think I have everything under control a chicken head lands on my plate. Good ole’ Thailand, keeps me on my toes. 

'Nothing Short of Thankful'

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, a list of things inside and outside of Thailand that I am thankful for (in no particular order and hardly inclusive)...


In general I am thankful....
-that I wake up everyday to go to ‘work’ doing something that I love.
-for having a healthy body that houses a functioning mind.
-for being a woman who lives in a world post women’s suffrage, the advent of the pill, the legalization of a woman’s choice, the near demolishment of the glass ceiling, and the acceptance that my brain does science just as well as a man’s.
-that I was born in the United States to parents who are loving, committed, fiscally responsible and weren’t scared to use the word “no” except when I was discussing my dreams.
-that I have people in my life who, despite all of my flaws, still see me as worth their time.
-that I had fabulous public education through high school and that my private college degree didn’t cost me a penny.
-that I have always had access to clean drinking water and a flushing toilet.
-that I have never gone to bed hungry, felt as though I was alone in this world, or experienced abject poverty.


In Thailand I am thankful for...
-public transportation: BTS, buses, trains, and MRT.
-Som-Tum, a dish that makes up at least one third of my diet.
-an endless supply of inexpensive and delicious fruit, likely another third of my diet.
-the Fulbright grant that pays me (PAYS me) to be here. 
-the street food vendors who line Pradiphat Rd. and keep my tummy full.
-the propensity of Thai people to smile at you, always.
-my landlady who is, as my Finnish friend who lives down the hall has deemed her, an angel.
-my Mercer friends who keep me laughing even in the most frustrating and discouraging of moments.
-lab mates who don’t mind my quirkiness, treat me as an intellectual equal, and constantly take me on adventures. 
-Skype.
-love that spans 10,000 miles.


And, finally, this is a repeat both within this post and those who are my Facebook friends but, I think, it is worth the repetition:
To my Friends/Family in the States: The next time you are having a lackluster day walk over to the water faucet in your work/home, fill a glass, and drink deeply. That is a privilege remarkably few in the world have. Be thankful. Remember what is truly important.

Fulbright Thanksgiving

  TUSEF, the Thai Fulbright organization, threw the most lovely of ThaiThanksgivings imaginable. Obviously, nothing can really replace a communal meal with my family but the Fulbright folks worked hard (and succeeded) at organizing a fitting substitute. 
  I made the early morning, Thanksgiving Day commute to the Fulbright office and met the full 2010-2011 Fulbright family. There were 12 ETAs (who are teaching all over the country), 8 current researchers (most of whom do not live in Bangkok), the full office staff and a smattering of alumni and board members present. We were quickly shuffled into waiting mini-vans, handed a to-go breakfast, and whisked out of the city. Our destination: Suraokhlongmai School, a predominantly Islamic school south of the city. Our purpose: bring a library full of books and a Fulbright spirit to do some painting and sprucing up of their school grounds.
  Overall, it was pretty successful. Per Thai style, the preparations the school made for us were overwhelming; hula-hoop show, english welcome, massive-handmade-sign, great food, and, frankly, much of the work was done before we got there. For example, I was assigned to a ‘painting’ crew. The gazebo which we were to refurbish had already received at least 2 coats of white primer so the white paint we layered over it was really icing on the cake. But, this sort of excessive preparation is very Thai and it was nice to get the mingle with the kids even if I didn’t feel like I was getting much accomplished. I think the most impactful part of the day was not the few hours we spent exerting elbow grease but the boxes and boxes of books we donated. Each Fulbright was asked to bring a book with an personal inscription for the school’s library. The Fulbright office also donated a number of books, mostly classroom sets of well known children’s volumes that were translated in both Thai and English.. Naturally, my donation was, ‘The Wonders of Nature’ a National Geographic book, in Thai, that talked about all sorts of neat animal traits and was aimed at the older students (the younger ones got boatloads of storybooks, so I don’t feel too guilty). Nerdy, nerdy, I know. 
  After our brief stint of volunteerism we ventured back to Bangkok to freshen up. I was graciously invited to hang-out and change in an out-of-town Fulbrighters hotel room since my apartment is across the city and would have meant a tight turn around. Kathryn (we high-fived when we discovered we both spelled it correctly) is a Fulbright Fellow based in Ubon who also has her 14 year-old son along for her appoint. She was a delight and it was incredible to hear her stories from her peace-corp placement in country years earlier. Her grant was in information technology and, I think, she was also considered a lecturer since she will be conducting a college-level class within her expertise. It was lovely to chat with her about he experiences and hear about how Thailand, particularly Bangkok, has changed in the short decade or so since she was last here. Her son was hilarious. I have never met a 14 year old who understood dead-pan, sarcastic humor so well. It was clear that he was a bit less thrilled by his mother’s Fulbright appointment than he was but he seemed to be a real trouper. 
  From the hotel we headed to the home of the US Embassy Consulate who kindly hosted a traditional, American Thanksgiving dinner. His apartment was luxurious to say the least., teakwood floors, opulent decor, and a positively massive floor plan. The food, while not nearly as tasty as my Mothers (or mine for that matter) was a welcome treat. But the biggest thrill was the wine. Red wine. It was free-flowing, Redwood Creek, Cabernet Sauvignon. My, how I missed wine. I reveled in every sip and gave thanks for the American tax dollars at work which allowed me this moment of glee (mostly kidding). The spiced peach salad was missing, the cranberry sauce was not homemade and the stuffing was not rife with smoked oysters, nonetheless, I slipped into Thanksgiving bliss thanks to a few glasses of vino. 


  I cannot express what an odd feeling it is to be surrounded by smart people, conversing about relevant, intriguing, complex issues and to realize that you, by some fluke in the universe, are considered worthy company to them. That is my best summation of my interactions with the other Fulbright researchers. Every single one was doing work that seemed so gosh-darn cool. Be it  a facet of Bhuddism, hilltribe anthropology, reforestation methods, novel means of water purification, or information technology. Really, really, really incredible, beautiful minds. I couldn’t have asked for more lovely Thanksgiving company. 

Looi Krathong

      Think about the 4th of July in the States. Recall the feelings of nostalgia, national unity, family bonding, and a care-free summer attitude. Imagine your favorite foods packed into a picnic basket and transported to a prime fireworks viewing location. Think about the traffic jams, the hordes of people at the most popular venues, and the air of celebration that is present in those crowds. 
       Now, shed all the Americanism. No star-spangled banner, no military parades, no BBQ, no Jesus, no Budweiser, and no bikini clad celebrants. Add ‘krathongs’ (small rafts made out of coconut leaves, bread or paper), sprinkle in a heaping portion of Buddhist ritual (incense burning, flower offering, samsara-teachings), a sense of wonder and awe of the environment, and a firm respect for Thailand monarchy. Imagine traditional thai songs, beauty pageants, endless celebratory street food, and constant smiles.  
      There you have it: Looi Krathong. A much beloved Thai holiday and one that I was able to celebrate the weekend of the 21st of November. I was graciously invited to accompany Chalao, Wan, Bpioo and her friends for their celebrations. So, on Sunday morning, I set out for the unknown. I hadn’t had time to do much homework on the holiday but I knew from my past experiences with Chalao that any trip he plans is sure to be incredibly rewarding.
      A bit of history on the holiday; Looi Krathong is a traditional celebration, thought to have originated over 500 years ago, that pays tribute to the life-giving and sustaining forces of the principal water ways in Thailand. It takes place just after the conclusion of the rainy season and, consequently, just as the yearly flood waters are receding. It is a celebration of the coming year and a ceremonial shedding of the past years worries, woes, and khamma. It is a way for Buddhists to rid themselves of a years worth of bad douka, poor khamma, and to start fresh in the new cycle of dry/wet season. The krathong’s carry alot of symbolism, much of which I am still naive of. However, most krathongs have a few key elements in common: flowers, incense, a candle, biodegradability, and a symbolic coin or two. Flowers, incense and candles play a pivotal role in buddhist offerings, therefore, no big surprise at their presence here. The krathongs are usually made out of leave or bread materials which can sink into the river and decompose or be eaten rapidly. The coins are considered an offering to the water body itself, a tiding of sorts for one’s year long use and abuse. 
      Thais have a great respect for rivers, principally, the Chao Phraya  (which runs through Bangkok) and the Mekong (which runs on the border between Thailand/Laos). The rivers themselves have mythical powers and deities associated with them. This particular year was especially important because of the heavy flooding that had occurred throughout the country claiming upwards of 200 lives and causing over a billion baht in damages. Many mystics, monks, and traditional thais attributed the waters backlash to the political unrest that has pervaded Thai society over the past year. Needless to say, this years Looi Krathong celebration had a certain emotional weight to it. A hopeful shedding of the past years political unrest and tragedy.
     My Looi Krathong celebration was magical. We started the day at Phra Pantom Chedi, Thailand’s largest pagoda. The temple was in midst of its annual festival so we joined thousands of other visitors in making merit and admiring its impressive size/beauty. Part of the annual celebration is the re-cloaking of the Chedi clothes, the fabric which wraps the main spire. The old fabric is removed and new, bright orange fabric is hung. Before its ceremonial replacement this new fabric is made available for temple-goers to write on. I was a bit unsure of what to write so I kept it short and sweet, “Health, Happiness and Peace to those whom I love.” It covers the bases and, if you are reading this, know that I made a wee bit of merit in your honor. 
      After the temple visit we headed to Ayutthaya province, Bang Sai district to visit ‘The Support Arts and Crafts International Centre of Thailand’. This organization is under the Queen’s patronage and serves to foster, support, and teach traditional thai craft to thai people. The facility has a mind-boggling gallery, 19 separate studies and a prime position on the Chao Phraya River. I was in heaven. Growing up at both the Appalachian Center for Crafts and the John C. Campbell Folk School, visiting a Thai organization with similar values was nostalgic. 
      The best part? We were invited to make our own krathongs for the evening’s celebrations while visiting the thai-silk studio. The ladies there had the supplies to make their own and graciously invited our group to join in. What fun!!! I had been told several times in the weeks leading up to the festival that it was best if I could make my own krathong because it carried more good ju-ju weight than purchasing one... Never did I think I would actually get the opportunity to do so. It was a blast. I learned how to twist, fold and pin leaves in auspicious shapes for optimal good vibes. We used marigold petals and purple orchids to adorn our finished piece. The three women I was with,Wan, Bpioo, and Mee, all ending up producing a single finished product... a perfectly lovely, uber-traditional, coconut leaf krathong. I was overwhelmed when the ladies insisted I use it as my own for that evening. It was the most fitting representation of my last year as a whole... a beautiful amalgamation of effort, love, and support.... 10% me and 90% the incredible people I have in my life. 
      That night I offered my krathong to the Chao Phraya and realized that if my next year is anything like my last one, I will be blessed beyond words. (I already am)

Reflections: Adaptability

      This is a continuation of the previous post and serves as a continued analysis of my time living in Thailand thus far:
       Life is far easier when I am adaptable. This is particularly pertinent when living in a foreign country. To be clear, I love my life here. The last three months have been, daresay, some of the most enjoyable times in my life. Regardless of this enjoyment, life here is drastically different in nearly every way possible from my life in the States. Yet, I am overwhelmingly content. 
       Frankly, I think living here has taught me more about myself (pardon the cliche) than most of my adult life combined. I have shed everything peripheral; people, places, things, food, culture, and schedules that I clung to out of habit. I am left with only me. Nothing else is certain. 
       In the past, living in the States, I would say that I was ‘adaptable’....For example, so what if my favorite restaurant in WNC ran out of my beloved Grilled Salmon Salad, I could handle the Portabello Burger instead. In retrospect that sort of ‘adaptability’ seems like a joke. I cringe just thinking about what a creature of habit and comfort I was. Now I have a choice: Stick to my old ways and be unhappy or let go of expectation, habit and any sense of control to enjoy my life. I’ve chosen the latter mostly because I really, really dig being happy and was fortunate enough to recognize that adaptability was the only means to achieve it here. Adapt or die. (This also happens to be Darwinian dogma, go figure.)
       So, here I am, living a life which is fairly uncertain. Not in a bad way, in an incredibly liberating day-to-day, hour-to-hour sort of way. I do know a few things which form a semblance of scaffolding for my life plan:

1. I have a research project to complete
2. I have family and friends coming to visit me here in the future.
3. I will be returning to the States in Summer 2011 to promptly begin my life as a Ph.D student at UAB.
4. Between now and then little, if anything, is certain.

      I am embracing this time. I don’t care that I don’t know what I will be having for breakfast in the morning, what my plans are for tomorrow evening, or what my plans are for day x,y,z. I am deliciously unencumbered by habit and, for the time being, it is a joyous time. I am working when I want (which happens to be alot), playing when I feel like it, and tackling my life as it is served. I try to keep a schedule of work but if it changes I don’t freak, I just flow. I don’t plan meals. I don’t form expectations. I don’t look at the clock if I can get away with it. I do some planning of retreats and such but recognize that what I am doing is purely speculative and, if it changes, I embrace whatever happens instead. 
       I think that the only way I could have accomplished this, a 180 degree rotation from my Type A, over-scheduled, control-freak former self, is that I am in such a drastically different environment. I am certainly not saying that this style of living is the only way to approach life or, for that matter, a standard I am setting for anyone else or my future. It just happens to be working for me right now. I am happy, relaxed and shockingly productive. I recognize that I am beyond blessed by my circumstances and the people whom I am surrounded by. I have it made. 

Reflections: Stuff, Stuff, and More Stuff

I’ve been living in Bangkok for 3 months now. It’s time for some introspection:
      I left a lot behind when I moved here. I’m not talking people, I am talking stuff. I packed away an embarrassing amount of clothing, shoes, kitchenware, home decor, dry pantry items, toiletries, and other stuff. So much stuff. And, really, I had it easy. There is a house full of more stuff like couches, rugs, wall hangings, artwork, (more) kitchenwares, and stuff that I don’t even remember is there that Brian, a close friend, was kind enough not to want removed when he moved in. It makes me a little queasy even thinking about going back to all that stuff. Whatever possessed me to acquire it in the first place? 
     Well, as many of you know, I am a sucker for a bargain. Even more of a sucker for the word ‘free’. So, the vast majority (90+%) of my clothes were purchased at low-cost consignment and second-hand shops and the greater majority of my non-clothing items were acquired as hand-me-downs, gifts, or from the distribution of my late grandmother’s estate. So, in some ways, I can breathe a sigh of relief.... at least I didn’t spend an unfathomable amount of money on all that stuff. 
      But, still. What is a 22 year old woman doing with so much freaking stuff? Its not like I need it to be happy. I’ve proven that. I am perfectly content with the stuff I have in my possession right now... and all of it fits into two bags and a backpack. (And 12 lbs of it is the freaking blender I hauled halfway around the world) Even still, the amount of stuff I have here borders on too much. Case in point: I have to do laundry about once a month. Not even kidding. ONCE A MONTH. And, when I do, there are still clean things in my closet. How ludicrous is that? Positively insane.
     I like to think of myself of the kind of person who is immune from the capitalistic, ‘buy! buy! buy!’ and ‘more things=more happiness’ mantra that I often rail against and yet, here I sit, my mass of stuff, spanning the Pacific ocean, haunting me. Its a little discouraging. In some ways I would love for it to all disappear.... If, in 8 months, I get back and the 60 pounds of clothes that I vacuum bagged aren’t there to greet me, I might just breathe a gigantic sigh of relief. But I know that the easy route isn’t the answer. (And, realistically, living in a mono-climate sort of place greatly simplifies one’s wardrobe.) Once I get back to the States I will need my peacoat, my corduroys, and my scarves. Furthermore, banishing that stuff potentially sends it to the landfill and if that stuff is being unproductive in my possession, it certainly won’t be doing any good in the trash heap. (For the record, I did donate close to 70lbs worth of clothing to the Macon CrisisLine before I left. At the time I thought that was pretty nifty, now I realize I could do that again and still be left with plenty)
     I’d love to be one of those people who lives in a shipping container and can simplify their life to the point of numbering the items they own from 1-100. I’ll also be the first to admit that it will never happen for me. I, like my mother, build wunder-cabinets (a very, very Dutch practice) out of our homes. We turn them into psuedo-art/history/science/nature/family museums. Anyone who visited my house in Macon has already witnessed this. My mantels were shrines that honored anything and everything I found delightful in the world. I built cairns out of rocks on my fireplace to imbibe peace and I displayed art that I cherished to remind me of people/places/experiences that I loved. I don’t want to lose any of that. That isn’t the kind of ‘stuff’ I am talking about. I am talking about the slowly amassed, non-sentimental, utterly pointless things: Clothes, junk-mail, tupperware, knick-knacks, paper, magazines, etc etc etc. Needless to say, I will say that I will be making a conscious effort to reduce the amount this nonsensical stuff in a few key ways:
1.   I’ll be going through the masses of stuff I left behind and re-evaluating what I use it for and how my life would change without it.
2.    I won’t be getting more stuff just for the sake of satisfying a momentary longing for it. I didn’t think I did this to begin with; I am one of those people that mulls over big purchases for an achingly long time BUT I clearly need to do some more mulling, especially in the clothing department... even when I find a rad shirt at Goodwill for $0.10 that would work perfectly for Halloween 2023. Nope, not going to play that game anymore.
3.    I will resist my genetic disposition to be a pack-rat. I come from a long line of them and, frankly, I don’t want my grandchildren wading through cabinets containing an army’s worth of meticulously cleaned, re-used and stored ziplocks, tupperware, and take-out containers after I kick the re-used, meticulously-clean, bought-for-a-bargain, old-Dutch bucket...(Both my grandmother’s were guilty of this). So far, genetics are winning. I can do better than that.


Further 3-month anniversary reflections on the horizon... 

Biscuits and Gravy Come to Bangkok

       Yes, indeed. I caved. You see, in Thailand, there is no such thing as breakfast food. Thais eat the same sort of dishes every meal of the day. Which, under most circumstances, is actually quite convenient: no need to whip out different ingredients or find a speciality restaurant in order to eat breakfast food. This seems all fine and good until you realize that you are a person who adores classic breakfast dishes. 
       You see, I am one of those people. I love breakfast. I love capers and lox on a homemade bagel. I salivate at the thought of banana pancakes with Michigan, grade B, maple syrup. I get an endorphin high just thinking about the multitude of muffin possibilities. And, I take personal pride in my no-recipe-necessary rendition of biscuits and gravy. It is my power-recipe. I make it to relax, to give myself an ego-boost, and to show my love for those around me. 
       Naturally, when presented with the opportunity to cook in a friend's kitchen here, I jumped at the opportunity. My menu choice was even less surprising: Biscuits and Black Pepper Gravy and all the fixin’s for a Southern Breakfast. Who cares if it was Halloween Eve, a dinner party, and we were in Bangkok?! I was making Southern Breakfast come hell or high water.

Its not often that you take a boat to a friend's house. But, wait, I'm in Bangkok. That explains everything... Also, Keng's apartment is the bomb-diggity. Just the fact that there is a private shuttle boat should insight oohs and ahhs.

Bacon in a wok in Bangkok?! Check!

What homemade meal is complete without homemade cookies? None I make!

Sous-chef extraordinaire! He was a cookie makin' pro by the end of the evening.  

Making cookies is for the sole purpose of licking the spoon. Duh. 

Finished product: Biscuits, black pepper gravy, scrambled eggs, bacon and thai honey. Yum! Lovely evening with lovely people.  Love, love, love, love, love. 

"My Research, My Pride"

        Isn’t that a nifty slogan?! Mahidol recently hosted their graduate research exposition, where this was the catch-phrase. I was lucky enough to be able to attend an assortment of lectures, poster presentations and even a community ‘hot-pot’ dinner. It was awesome. I love seeing other people’s research. I love talking to them about it. I love academia on display. Love. It. 
It was really intriguing to see how a Thai university conducted an event like this. Movie stars were hired to lend their voices to the campus-wide advertisements. Young professors served as trendy MCs for the event. Trivia was played between speakers and the prizes were legit (500 baht... heck yes!). It was basically like a 2-day celebration of all things Mahidol Research related. And, the best part? It was mostly in English... Score!
I was incredibly impressed with the sheer scope of research going on. I knew that the Faculty of Science encompassed a wide-range of departments but it really hadn’t dawned on me how diverse my campus is. There were mathematicians who worked on nanotube structure, physicists who devised electronic noses, and chemists who invented antibiotic/antiviral infused, natural rubber gloves to help prevent infection from needle-pricks. Basically, I sat in awe for the duration of the day. 
Most of all I loved the student support that the research received. Every single speaker gave their presentation to a standing-room-only crowd. Whole departments would sit together and wave hand-made signs of support when one of their own presented. The clapping, hooting and hollering that followed each presentation was deafening. It was a true community of support, encouragement and love of research. I realized all over again why I was so lucky to be at Mahidol and why I wanted to be a lifetime-academic. 
I have always, in longer terms, took“My Research, My Pride” as a personal mantra. How nice it was to be surrounded by people who thought the same thing and weren’t ashamed to make it publicly known. 
Second to the actual research, the highlight of the event was the final ‘hot-pot’ meal. All the students and faculty gathered in ‘The Canteen’ the main dining hall for a traditional cook-it-yourself dinner. Each table had its own cooking contraption, a massive basket of veggies/noodles and a gallon bag of broth. Meat and fried rice was served buffet style in one corner of the room. Each table got a heaping plate of meat, lit their wood-fire and went to town. It was delectable. 

To top it off, a karaoke stage was set up so that professors and a few students could share their renditions of Thai pop tunes throughout the night. I couldn’t help but wonder if the professors of Willet Science Center at Mercer would be game for some pop karaoke at the next Undergraduate Research Symposium. Doubtful and not necessarily a bad thing.

Dhamma: Unexpected but Welcome

        In September, a Fulbright colleague emailed me a notice about a series of Buddhist Dhamma talks being conducted in English. Since I greatly respect the undertones of Buddhism that play into Thai day-to-day life, I was intrigued enough to attend the first talk. Naturally, most Dharma teachings occur in Thai so this was a unique opportunity to get English insight on a classically Thai subject. 
Most of you know that while I did experience a Lutheran baptism and catechism as a pre-teen, I now identify as “agnostic” at best. From my stand-point religion, dogma, and those-of-the-faith seem to cause far more problems in the world than they solve. If one looks beyond the root dogma of most monotheistic religions, that the actual practice is rife with hypocrisy, greed, and deceit. No, thanks. I think that morality, compassion, kindness, altruism, and love can exist outside of the realm of dogma and aspiring towards these comprises my only “spiritual” practice. 
Needless to say, I was relieved to find no expectation of ritualistic or dogmatic knowledge and a monk, Phra Pandit, who delivered the talks in realistic, genuine, and humorous terms. I liked the first lecture enough to continue with the series. So, for the last 6 weeks or so, I have walked away with both simple and profound revelations. I extended my interest to a meditation workshop at the Young Buddhist Association of Thailand and have been trying to keep up with other Dhamma events. I was even fortunate enough to attend a lecture by Ajahn Jayasaro, one of the most respected teachers of Dhamma in Thailand. 
While I still shy away from the dogma, I find the mindful and self-sovereign practice of Buddhism quite intriguing. Both are things that I have been trying to incorporate into my daily practice and I find myself a more patient, kind and compassionate individual as a result. 
If you are interested in reading Phra Pandit’s notes from these lectures (I encourage you to do so if you have the time... ) I have compiled them, compliments of his blog www.littlebang.org into an easy to download PDF document. If interested, click  HERE . 

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

      Fear not. Living abroad has not turned me into an October caroler. In fact, I remain unhealthily elated at the prospects of skipping Christmas altogether this year. (My grinch-tendencies will be elucidated in a Holiday post) No, my title is referencing the emotions which surround running gel electrophoresis. Not even kidding. 


  I’ve detailed the “bench-high” that I experience in the lab, but the excitement-wonder-anticipation emotion amalgamation that surrounds running a gel is on another emotional plane entirely. First, there is the preparation of the PCR mixtures and the 4-hour thermo-cycler run. This step requires attention to detail, proper technique, and patience. Much like a Santa-obsessed child minding their actions and wriggling in excitement on December 1st, I usually get a little antsy during this process. I double check my PCR cocktail calculations, obnoxiously re-check that the thermo-cycler is running properly, and busy my hands on lab maintenance (or blog writing) during the wait.
  Then comes the making, setting and loading the gel. This is basically like wrapping a Christmas present... In theory, the gift will appear to be more thoughtful, grander, and more sincere the nicer the wrapping technique. At least, that’s the case with gels (I contend that the wrapping quality is irrelevant at Christmas or Birthdays). Therefore, I am a stickler for proper loading technique. This is when my OCD tendencies really rear their Type-A head... I aim for perfectly straight lanes, edges free of bubbles or anomalies, and evenly filled wells. 
  The overwhelming anticipation/excitement of Christmas morning comes as the gel runs. For 35 minutes, which seem like hours when you are anticipating really, really good presents er.. bands, I have to sit and wait for the DNA to creep down the agarose. It reminds me of sitting at my grandparent’s breakfast table, my 5-year-old self ready to tear through the pile of presents visible in the living room, only to be told to sit up straight and finish my grapefruit. I have to pretend like I am cool-as-a-cucumber during this time when, in reality, all I can think about is whether or not there is some hidden gem of a band waiting to reveal itself to me.
  Finally, I get to dig into the Gel Electrophoresis goodies. Just as some people gasp in excitement while tearing into the wrapping paper of their Christmas presents, I hold my breath as the UV light flutters onto full power and illuminates my gel. I am quite happy if I see bands that I expected to see (in the case of DNA quality checks). These bands prove that my extraction and PCR protocol is valid and that I didn’t screw up along the way. Nice to have (a real drag when they are not there), but these are not nearly as exciting as having a pathogen band show up. These bands are the equivalent of getting a present that I wanted but didn’t expect. This is usually the point when I do a happy dance, let out a yelp of glee, and smile so hard I am sore the next day.