LadyBoy Masseuses, Falling Off Elephants, and 4am Tuk-Tuks

Parental Visit Story 1:
    I gingerly opened the door to my local massage parlor, my folks in tow. It was Day 1, Activity 1... getting a massage. I was still bandaged and limping but I knew that, no matter what, a massage would de-stress us all. 
    I hadn’t done much prep work with them. No warning about the National Anthem at 6pm sharp, no wai instructions, no mention of Bangkok’s 3rd sex... no biggie, right? I had plenty of time to cover all these topics. Wrong. I had forgotten that my beloved massage parlor employed a ladyboy masseuse... Naturally, she was working today. Naturally, she was assigned to my father. Now, to be fair, my father is one of the least judgmental people to walk the face of this earth. Nonetheless, I hoped that this wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. To my great relief he slipped into foot massage induced quasi-blissed-out-coma in no time. Whew. I bbm’ed the Mercer crew about what a champ he was and thanked my lucky stars for having a Dad who was so unfazed by gender-bending. 
    That evening as we noshed on street pad thai,we recounted our day. I asked my folks what they thought of their massages. Like the understanding man my father is, he properly referred to his masseuse as ‘she’ and complimented her skill. I remarked that I was happy he hadn’t been uncomfortable and rambled off about ladyboys. ‘Wait, what?’ my Dad said, his jaw a bit lax. ‘Dad, your massage therapist was a lady boy... you knew that right?’ He laughed and laughed and laughed. Apparently not. Of course, he still didn’t care and, for the record, asked for her again.... Mom and I were just a little surprised he hadn’t noticed.


Parental Visit Story 2
    Looking back, I’m not sure what I was thinking dragging my 60 year old parents on a mahout training course that required them the dexterously hop on and off pachyderms with an agility that even I don’t possess. But, there we were, wrapping up a full day of elephant riding. I could tell my folks were exhausted. I was thanking my lucky starts we hadn’t suffered any injuries. In my relieved disillusionment, I joyously exclaimed to my Mom, “Hey, you should dismount the elephant like this [‘this’ being hopping over the head as it bows to the ground], its my favorite way!” Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was our very last dismount, I should have kept my mouth shut. I hopped off, reveling in the final, thrilling descent. I turned around to watch my Mom, camera in hand. Immediately, I knew this would not end well. The elephants head was bowing, she looked tense and, worst of all, her left leg remained dead-gripped behind the elephants ear. I innately snapped a single picture before my Mom came crashing to the ground, face first. Initial horror: we are in the middle of po-dunk Thailand and my mother has broken her hip. A collective gasp was heard. The mahouts, the program director, and I all sucked air together. 
    Then, she started to laugh. Thank-you-buddha. With the agility of a 20 year old she popped up, laughing still, dusted off, and turned beet red. Clearly the only thing permanently damaged was her ego. Forever more my mother can say that not only has she ridden an elephant but she has also fallen off one. What a rarity such an accomplishment must be!

 Mom LOVING her elephant time in the lake. 

Seconds before it all went wrong. 

Parental Visit Story 3
    Due to planning error on my part, my folks and I were forced to take buses (instead of trains) for the larger sections of our journey. Long bus journeys are starkly hit-or-miss here. You can hit the transportation jackpot and end up in the massaging chair, snack laden, near empty bus or you can land on the bus that we did from Chiang Mai to Ayutthaya... the bus with the farang-hating attendant, noisy/frigid aircon, non-existent shocks, and year-old bologna sandwiches for snacks. Joy, joy, joy!! 
    The bus attendant was the loveliest part of this trip. She clearly had done her bun a bit too tight that day for what should of been a smile was a sinister sneer. She literally threw a bottle of water at me and gave me the judgmental, ‘I’m foreigners biggest enemy’, raised-eyebrow look when I tried, in my kindest, most respectful thai possible, to remind her that we wanted to be dropped off in Ayutthaya. I gathered that we would only be making a quick stop and that stopping was a HUGE inconvenience for her. 
     7 body-jarring hours later, she elbowed me to indicate we were at Ayutthaya. We quickly gathered our things and tried to exit the bus as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the other, slumbering passengers. We stepped off the bus onto the side of the superhighway, the attendant pointing to our bags with a grimace on her face then quickly prancing back up the steps as the bus rolled away. It was deathly quiet. No cars were on the road. It was 4am. I had no idea where we were. I had no idea where Ayutthaya was. 
    Fan-freaking-tastic, Kate, I thought, What are you going to do now, huh? Then, like magic, a tuk-tuk chugged out of the darkness. I frantically, giddily hailed him down.... as if I had any competition. I braced myself for the inevitable 1000 baht start to bargaining but rationalized that 1. it was my parents money and 2. now was no time to be stubborn and cheap. To my great delight, the driver gave me a toothy grin and offered 100 baht for a ride to our guesthouse. I damn near kissed him. 
    We piled in and gripped to the handrails. My parent's enormous bags hogged 2/3 of the sitting room and we were all forced to sit precariously close to the open back. At first we sat in silence, dazed and tired. Then I started to crack up, my Mom followed, and soon we were a trio of guffaws. I laughed until tears streamed down my face and until a stitch crept into my side. I kept laughing. Here we were, the 3 Doornbos Muskateers... the youngest and blindest leading the older and blinder through Thailand. What a spectacular hilarity of a life we lead. 

Turning 23

   Two days after my folks arrived, I celebrated a most perfect birthday. 
   Turning 23 has all sort of whimsical connotations in my mind. My current situation speaks to the luck of this life-year and I know that the coming months will only make this more obvious. I’ll be wrapping up a year living abroad, returning to my dream of a graduate program, creating a new home for myself in Alabama, and returning to the company of my love. On an introspective level, I feel much more comfortable and assured of myself than I ever have. There is no question as to my path: I know what I want and I know I have the ability to get there. I might not have every, itsy-bitsy component of my journey plotted out but I trust my instincts and my sensibilities to do what needs to be done. I am past the vanity and insecurities of my teenage-dom, am over the OCD nervosa of my college years, and am utterly content. I recognize that I still have an immense amount to learn on a personal and professional level but I also accept myself for who I am at this very moment. I know that graduate school will be taxing but I am confident that I will be able to balance my workload with the people and activities that bring me joy. Only good things lay ahead in my 23rd year and, if my good fortune ends, I’m prepared to deal with any sorrow which might come my way.
   I rang in this new year with my wonderful parents. Still jet-lagged and fresh off the plane, they tolerated my insistence on a traditional Bhuddhist birthday blessing at a local temple and then whisked me downtown to treat me to an incredible Sunday Brunch at the Royal Orchid Sheraton on the Chao Phraya River. This was no ordinary brunch.... freshly made to order smoothies were free-flowing, a woodfire pizza oven doled out deliciousness, raw oysters were endless, dim sum overflowed out of steam baskets, thai delicacies sat next to western classics, and the dessert bar was a room all to itself. To say I entered food-induced bliss would be obvious. The waitstaff even constructed a star-bedecked, chocolate-covered, Thai kanome encircled, and candle topped torte and sang the Thai Happy Birthday song to me. I would have NEVER treated myself to such an indulgence but it was so much fun to enjoy one of the famous Sunday Brunch locales that Bangkok is famous for. 
    After loosening our pants and taking a brief rest, we headed to RedSky, my favorite skybar, to celebrate over cocktails with my Mercer compadres. I was surrounded by 12 people whom I adored while looking over a city with which I have fallen in love... pure, nostalgic bliss. 
    We later dined on a chocolate extreme Dairy Queen (thank you, Globalization!) cake and watched a full, blood moon rise. Life at 23 started off so sweetly. 

New Years and My Resolutions

I recognize that this is a full month late. I've been busy with with and a whirlwind visit from my folks. Just now starting to post backlogged posts. Bear with me na ka.

      I celebrated the arrival of 2011 with a couple hundred thousand of Bangkok’s finest folks in the CentralWorld plaza. Lucky for me, my Mercer colleagues had the forethought and patience to reserve a table for our group at a beer garden so that we didn’t have to play crowd sardines as 2010 rolled away. To say that our table wasn’t crowded would be generous but we had seats, easy-access to beer, and a bit more space than those standing in the crowds. It was well worth it. We grooved (er, winced) to the tunes of a Thai rock band whose power ballads were an interesting departure from my folksy preferences. Let’s just say I won’t be first (or last) in line if they go on tour. 
       All that aside, the company was stellar and, really, what more could you ask for in NYE? Even with the power ballads and cramped seating all I could do was smile. I sipped my beer, reveled at the masses, and made a grand fool of myself as we counted down to 2011... hooting, hollering, and white-girl dancing galore. Just as the clock struck midnight, all craziness broke loose. First it was a mist. Then it was a downpour. Before we knew it the entire area was engaged in a full-blown Chang beer fight. I’d like to think that everyone got as soaked as we were but, to be fair, I do believe our group, as the only farang in sight, were targeted by festive/care-free thais. I didn’t mind from the start, but there were a few in our group who got understandably peeved to be doused with beer. I chalked it up to a necessary and utterly-memorable way to ring in my first Bangkok new years and flung water and beer right back at them. I’m sure I was a sight to behold, especially when I continued, damp with beer, onto our favorite dancing haunt. The next morning I woke up, counted my lucky stars for fabulous friends and guardian angels, and nursed my first (and hopefully last) Chang-over of my time here. Whew, what a night.


Its taken me a few days of introspection but I have come up with a few resolutions/goals for 2011:
1. Be gentle with myself. A line from Desidrata, also known as my mantra, and good advice on physical, emotional, bodily, spiritual, professional, and personal levels. Noted and striving for.
2. Meditate everyday... even if I can only squeeze in 10 minutes. I feel better, think better, and am happier if I do.
3. Chew my food more thoroughly. Eating with Thais has made me realize that I am a virtual food vacuum. I can inhale a plate of food in the time it takes them to chew their first two bites. Not healthy, not smart, and probably a good habit to break. 


Here's to a joyous, adventure filled year overflowing with love, love, love. 

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

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. 

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 . 

Suu-ay Mak! Thai Standards of Beauty from a Farang Perspective.

      I am told I am beautiful (Suu-ay in thai) on a daily basis here. Sometimes, depending on my activities, there is a deluge of compliments. The motorcycle taxi driver gang just outside my apartment, women sitting next to me on the bus, the lady I buy my grilled banana breakfast from, students in the Biology department at Mahidol; all of them exclaim how beautiful I am whenever I encounter them. It is a little odd.  At first I thought it was just a form of simple flattery for farang. Perhaps they assumed it was one of the only thai words that I was familiar with and they wanted to be kind or, more insidiously for those peddling goods, that they wanted my business. Now I realize that not only is it genuine but it comes from a deeply-engrained and complicated set of beauty standards. 

      First of all, there is the issue of skin hue. A short stroll through any beauty department will reveal an overwhelming number of skin bleaching products for both men and women. There is eye cream, face cleanser, body wash, deodorant, foot creme, face masks, body scrubs, and bar soap.  In fact, finding any of these items without skin whiteners or brighteners is basically impossible. Even imported brands have added ingredients. (Good thing I brought enough BMe, Jason Organics, LUSH, and Burt’s Bees to ration out until someone comes to visit!) I am whiter than white and I suspect that the use of any sort of whitening agent would take my skin from beyond-fair to translucent. I love my pale skin but I also like having enough color so I am not confused with a corpse. But Thai people? They buy and use these products on a daily basis. Pale skin is a sign of beauty, wealth, and a high-class background. Women especially are subject to light skin standards. They carry umbrellas on sunny days, wear long sleeve shirts, and spend obscene amounts of money on lotions, potions, and spa treatments to turn their almond hued skin porcelain white.

Portion of the the "Beauty" aisle in Big C. All whitening. 

      Think about the American obsession with tanning beds, sunless tanner, and sun-bathing. Women in the States spend obscene amounts of money and time to risk melanoma and future wrinkles in order achieve the ideal sun-kissed look. Precisely the opposite of the Thai ideal... In fact, while my fair skin earns me compliments here, I cannot count the number of times someone has made a snide comment about how pale or sickly I look in the States. People have joked about how they are ‘blinded’ by my whiteness or commented that I would look so much more attractive with a bit of a tan. 

      I want to be clear that both standards are harmful, obsessive, and generally ridiculous. Both endanger a person’s physical health and mental well being. Both suck ludicrous amounts of money from the pockets of people who buy into advertisement campaigns, lifestyle ideals, and beauty standards that fail to accommodate the natural variety of human skin pigment. On one level, I am more than a little disgusted by both of them. On another level, I feel sorry for anyone, Thai or American, who feels as though they have to alter their appearance in order to be considered beautiful. I say screw them all and own what you have. Easier said than done, I realize, but if more people adopted this attitude it would wear on the rigidity of these standards. 

      Secondly, Thais regard European facial features as highly desirable. Most actresses and pop-stars that appear on television, in movies, on print ads, and on billboards look far more Western than Thai. And most Thai women see their own shallow-broad noses, pronounced lips, and almond shaped eyes as ugly and, instead, aspire to the pointy noses, thin-flat lips, and rounded eyes that characterize a European face. Just as American women flock to plastic surgeons for lip plumps and rhinoplasties to confound their European heritage, affluent Thai women undergo blepharoplasties and lip reductions to appear more Western. It fits the overused cliche that one always wants what they don’t have. 

      Keeping all this in mind, it is difficult for me to accept a ‘You’re so beautiful’ compliment without listening between the lines to hear an ‘I’m so ugly’ self-assessment... particularly when I am complimented by women. It bothers me and I try, as much as possible, to return the compliment using specific examples of why I think they are beautiful. Sometimes it works, most times they just brush it off and say that they are not pretty in comparison. In reality, even the most ordinary Thai woman is breathtakingly beautiful. The Western standard is deeply engrained as the way to be attractive... most of these ideals are the result of Americanization of media and advertisements. I could be politically correct and say “Globalization” but that is simply not a genuine representation of what is going on here. It is American T.V. shows, movie-stars, advertisements, and products that have, for the most part, resulted in this push toward Westernized beauty. Shame on the advertising and telecommunication companies who have allowed this to happen. 

Homesickness? No. Catsickness? Yes!

      I get asked alot, by friends here and back in the States, whether I am homesick. They always seem a little disappointed when I say no. Or, they don’t believe me. But, really, I don’t get homesick... I have been leaving ‘home’ (we’ll get to the definition of this word in a moment) since 3rd grade Girl Scout camp and while I do have memories of crying myself to sleep, surrounded by strangers, they date back to an era when my age was a single digit. I think this is aided by the fact that ‘home’ is a pretty plastic term to me. Right now, I consider my ‘home’ Bangkok Living Apartments. Had one asked me the same question 3 months ago, I would have answered my home in Macon. I understand that some people associate home with their folk’s house, in many nostalgic ways I do too, but having a ‘home’ that is mine and that I can find retreat in on a daily basis is an intrinsic factor for my happiness and, frankly, I haven’t legitimately lived at my parents house for quite some time (they would agree with this statement, by the way). I associate ‘home’ with where-ever I have set up shop for more than a 2-3week stay.    So, being ‘homesick’ in my situation just simply doesn’t apply.

  Do I miss people? Sure, on many levels, yes. But I nurture and maintain my closest relationships on a day-to-day basis thanks to the wonders of Skype and email. I even keep in touch with the masses via Facebook. Certainly, there are times when I wish I could teleport myself into my parent’s living room for a face-face chat and hug or that I could momentarily appear in Macon for a cuddle on the couch with Jimmy. But, those moments are fleeting and acknowledged fantasy, the same way someone says “Gosh, I wish I were on a beach in Jamaica right now” while sitting in their office cubicle. There is some yearning there but it comes full-acknowledgement that the idea is a momentary fancy. Maybe I am too much of a realist, but I have accepted the fact that I am here, they are there, and for the moment we make do with the lines of communication that are available to us. 

  All this being said, I miss my cat. Like crazy. That is one relationship that Skype does nothing for. Interaction with a pet is so, completely different than interaction with people. Ghandi and I had a rhythm going in our life before. We talked via neck scratches, purrs, fetch-sessions, yowls, cuddle-time, paw-placement, and a host of other ways that are difficult to put into words. I swear, that cat and I have a telepathic connection... if such a thing exists. He knows when I am blue, sick, excited, worried, anxious, relaxed, sleepy. You name the emotion, he has a feline response. All of these things are simply not replicable via any form of communication I have at my disposal. In fact, they can’t be had without direct interaction... something that is entirely impossible at the moment. Sure, I see fleeting pictures of him complements of my parents web-cam but if I coo, click, or call to him in our usual ways he scampers to the window and waits for me to come into view. Breaks my heart. All I can do is hope that by making a fool of myself through cat-talk and cooing over Skype that he won’t forget me. Keep your fingers crossed. 

Aftermath of a Tragedy

As traumatizing my experience with the motorcycle accident was, I have walked away with valuable insight and information.... most of which I am still trying to appreciate:

1.  There is no ‘Good Samaritan’ Law in Thailand and nothing close to an equivalency. Consequently, the police officer who stopped me was likely trying to protect my interests. Had I interfered, I could have been held liable for personal and property damages that the woman had sustained. I might have had to pay her hospital bill and her family could have sued me if she had died. In fact, I would have likely been arrested for interfering at the scene of an accident. In practical terms, without pondering too deeply on seeing a woman die in the street, all of this sounds rational and I can convince myself to conjure up feelings of relief that I didn’t get myself entangled in a situation that was a proverbial can-of-worms.

      HOWEVER, I think it is utterly absurd that this is the reality of Thailand’s legal system. Punished for helping someone? Really?! I mean, I get the premise... no one wants an unqualified joe-schmoo pounding out chest compressions on a spinal cord victim. But, I think most people who are first-aid trained approach a situation and try to find the least invasive manner to give aid. I knew better than to move this woman but I also knew that rescue breathing would prolong her time of viability. I wasn’t going to try to perform open heart surgery, I just wanted to provide the most basic of aid before qualified paramedics arrived on the scene. And, as I mentioned in the previous post, I felt most compelled to offer her comfort. I think that is the only humane and moral thing to do. If acting out of compassion and humanity is a crime, then I am okay with being a criminal.

2.  I discovered that in a grave situation I don’t cower in fear. That is surprisingly empowering feeling. I lead an insulated, blessed, and overwhelmingly fortunate life. I don’t encounter life-or-death situations with any sort of frequency. Knowing that when I am in the midst of one I maintain some semblance of composure and morality is a comforting feeling. I didn’t act perfectly, in hindsight I wish I had pressed the police officer more to allow me to help her, but I certainly didn’t just walk away. Lots of people around me did.

   Along the same line, I confirmed that while my own blood (a symbol of my morality) can leave me faint and quivering in fear, the sight of someone else’s, even a great deal of it, doesn’t phase me. This sounds trivial, but those of you close to me know that I get a pretty iffy with mild self-injury (comically so, in fact). I have successfully observed child-birth, surgery, and other peoples moderate injuries without much trouble but I had never before dealt with an traumatic emergency of this caliber. Needless to say, I might have dry-heaved after the fact but in the moment I barely noticed to its presence.

3. Thais are far more casual about death than Westerners. This might sound critical but it is not, it is simply a fact. I was shocked, angered, and horrified when dealing with this first hand but in hindsight I realize that my condemnation of their actions arose from a place of prejudice. I viewed their reaction through my Western relationship with death.

    I don’t have a comfortable relationship with death. Just saying or thinking the word gives me the momentary heeblies and my mind wanders to places I hate it being. I can’t speak for everyone, mostly because in the States death contemplation is not typical conversation material, but I would wager that most Westerners have similar feelings. That being said, that is simply not how it is here. Death simply doesn’t carry the same mental or emotional weight. People talk gingerly about someone dying , about their own death, and about their previous deaths. Buddhism is the root of this and I don’t know enough about the teachings of it to comment much further.

4. My morning jaunts on motorcycle taxis are over. I used to look forward to my daily ride as it often served as a sort of pick-me-up. I would gingerly hop on the back of a motorcycle (or scooter), helmet-less, and giggle as the driver navigated through the morning traffic. I prided myself in my transformation from awkward, terrified and white knuckling tourist to glamourous and relaxed morning commuter.

   Well, I have re-joined the ranks of the terrified. I now pound the pavement on the 1.6 km walk to the BTS station or hop a bus to the university. Running late? I smile and hail a taxi with a steel cage and seatbelts, happily paying the extra 10 baht above the motorcycle fare (about 35 cents). In a city where traffic laws are long-forgotten-suggestions and the only observed rule is that the biggest vehicle wins (a law of physics, really) I am simply not going to risk being at the bottom of the proverbial food chain. This decision might inconvenience me but so would a traumatic head injury.

    And, for the record, I reveled in driving my own motorcycle in the states but, frankly, this is a totally different world. I’ll always defend my appreciation and use of motorcycles while stateside, but I just can’t justify risking my life here. Accidents happen far too frequently, there is no protective gear and I am utterly out of control as a passenger with drivers who have no qualifications. I’ll save my motorcycle kicks for when I can wrap myself in kevlar and make my own mistakes.

5.  And, finally, this incident was the ultimate test of my ‘Optimism or Flounder’ assertion. I gave myself a few days to decompress and forgave myself for my indignant and angry feelings. Now, I am over it. I’ve been enjoying my morning walks even more now just knowing that I am fortunate enough to be alive and experiencing them.

Bangkok is for Optimists

There are two ways of experiencing every situation. In Bangkok this is particularly pertinent. It is a city of severe dichotomies; where hyper affluence meets extreme poverty, where modern architecture neighbors tin & bamboo slums, where asian tranquility collides with the hustle-bustle of a mega-city and where culinary delicacies are served side-by side with gag-worthy rarities. Bangkok and dichotomy might as well be synonyms. In order to survive in this city it is a requirement that you view it through rose-colored glasses or else it will leave you limping for the border. Case and point:

It is Monday morning. I am walking to the BTS station, a long, knee grinding trip on uneven sidewalks. A jack-hammer grinds into concrete a mere 3 feet to my right, taxi drivers honk incessantly to my left, I step in dog shit and nearly wipe out banana-peel style, wrenching my neck in the process. The smell of piss emanates from a nearby wall and I watch as a taxi driver adds his aura to the smorgasbord. My eyes burn from the stench of fermenting squid that a food cart is peddling for breakfast, my stomach gurgles and the fruit I ate for breakfast revisits my esophagus. I walk through the throng of people, pushing my way through the throbbing crowd. A sweat breaks on my brow and a wave of claustrophobia pours over me. I emerge from the crowd and look down only to see an armless man begging for change. He clenches a plastic cup in his teeth and nudges it towards the crowd, his face caked with dirt and his shirt tattered. I wonder why the hell I am living in this god-forsaken place. Homesickness pangs surge in my chest, my eyes bristle with tears behind my sunglasses and I take a deep sigh of relief as I step onto the escalator carrying me above all that is wretched in this city.

I could start each day with a thought process similar to that above. Every point detailed is a situation that I have encountered, numerous times, while walking the streets of this city. The combination of them all together would be entirely feasible. If I allowed my mind to grasp and amplify the negativity present in my everyday activities, I would be beyond miserable. But, just as I said before, this city is a living dichotomy and the picture I painted above is a mere half of the equation:

It is Monday morning. I am walking to the BTS station, a refreshing walk in the short-lived morning cool. A broom peddler rings a bell rhythmically with his step and I momentarily step in time with his beat. Moments later I walk by a soi kitchen and catch a momentary melody sung by its owner as she sweeps out her floors and prepares for her first customers. I take a moment to tickle the whiskers of one of the loving soi cats that hold territory along my walk, I have even saved a small morsel of sticky rice to ensure his friendship and compliance. The smell of jasmine wafts from the flower dealer to my left and wreaths of marigolds and roses shimmer in the morning light. I catch a hint of tamarind sauce emanating from a food cart and debate whether I am hungry enough for a second breakfast. I shuffle along with the crowds of people and become humorously aware that I am a head taller than most of the women. Occasionally I catch eyes with a stranger and they flash me a toothy smile. I reach an ebb in the crowd and notice a child playing just inside a store front, giggling as his mother tickles him. I smile to myself and step onto the escalator with a sense of comfort, certain that today will only get better from here.

The above is an idealized example of my thought process. There are times where my mental dialogue is as rosy as the portrait I painted. But, admittedly, there are days where a few negative obsessions creep in. Regardless, I have made a choice to deliberately focus on and foster my positive experiences here. I know that, for me, it is an act of survival. I would emerge from this experience a tattered and broken individual if I allowed myself to obsess over the negative. This is not to say that I don’t see it and allow myself to experience it... I just choose to not focus on it. I only have so much energy to expend participating in the everyday activities of this city, I only have the energy for optimism.

I leave you with two thoughts:

-A modified Aristotle quote: “You are what you repeatedly do. [Happiness], therefore, is not an act but a habit” and

- An excerpt from Max Erhmann’s Desiderata “Be cheerful. Strive to be happy”