Adventures Abroad

I just came from the sprawling greenery of the Pacific Northwest and the hilly deserts of Southern California…Chiang Mai is cramped.  I’ve been having feelings of claustrophobia lately, and needed healthy doses of green and silence.  My friend Michelle told me about a little Wat up in the woods above Chiang Mai, partway up the hiking trail to Doi Suteph.  A little trek outside sounds perfect.

I step off my motorbike and onto the trail.  Five steps.  Its so quiet out here.  Ten steps.  Lush and green, just what I needed.  Fifteen steps.  “Rawang!”   Five men on dirt bikes whiz past me.  So much for a quiet escape from the noise of the city.  They make it about 30 feet ahead of me before they get stopped by some logs.  I walk past the men struggling to lift their 300 pound bikes up the hill, and head deeper into the forest and higher up the hill.  I walk for about two minutes before I’m completely drenched in my own sweat.  Why does the humidity keep surprising me?

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As I hiked higher up the mountain, I started to see saffron fabric tied around trees.  It started with just a few, but soon I couldn’t look in any direction without seeing saffron.  I was later told that these trees were blessed, and the saffron would keep them from being cut down.  Being surrounded by saffron draped trees made me feel as though some other-worldly presence was surrounding me as I hiked higher.  That presence soon materialized when the dirt bikers tore past me, but they were again stopped.  This time by a section of steep rocks.  I had a big grin on my face as I strolled past their mountain-conquering machines for the second time.

This game of leap frog went for about two more rounds before I reached the wat, leaving them behind to overcome a small log crossing over a tiny stream.  My sandals handled all of these obstacles juuuuust fine. I’m glad I beat them to it so I could wander around the beautiful setting without the whirring of motors.  The wat is perched atop a section of rocks and a waterfall.  Its definitely one of the most picturesque places in Chiang Mai.  There are images of the Buddha everywhere.  In the cliffs on the other side of the stream are stone monks forever meditating in a small cave.  There are sections of ancient temple still standing, along with a more recently constructed wat.  I sat next to a few monks who were praying inside the wat.  I was praying that my torrent of sweat would stop in the near future.

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It was just me, one Thai family praying, the monks, a waterfall, green forest, and a sweeping view of Chiang Mai far below me.  A much needed separation from city life.  That is, until I wandered around a corner to find a newer-looking glass building.  And next to the glass building: a road leading up from the city to a parking lot behind the wat, which was filled with Mercedes and motorcycles.  All that is missing is an escalator up to the wat. My assumption that the only way to reach the temple was by walking up a forest path: paved over.  Inside the glass building was a meditation workshop with many farang and a few Thai.  Oh well, I shouldn’t have come with so many expectations…it still is a very serene place.

I made my way over to a prayer platform, raised up in the trees above the path.  The tinkling of prayer bells and the view were the only things on my mind, but the dirt bikers quickly changed that.  As they rumbled up the path, several monks poured out of the wat.  The two groups met on the path in front of me and argued in Thai for a little bit.  The bikers were eventually sent back down the hill.  I’m not sure why they thought they would be able to ride up and do donuts around the Buddha, but they seemed pretty disappointed.  As they left, one monk came and sat down next to me.  So far, I had been trying really hard to ignore the several mars made to the picture I had painted in my mind of a peaceful Buddhist mountain temple, but this was too much.  All I could do was laugh.  I really did come into this hike with too many expectations.  Suddenly I felt much more ridiculous than the monk with the tattoo of Pikachu holding a Jaeggermeister bottle, who sat next to me and enjoyed same view.

Oh man, its only 7:45am and I already have so much work to do.  I still need to write a lesson plan for today.  I didn’t have time for coffee before coming to the office….Alright, lets bust out this lesson-plan before…

“Maxwell!  Come sit.  Eat some langsats with me,” chimes Ajan Sumalai.

Dammit, why is everyone here so cheery?  Its too early to be so nice, I need my coffee.

Ok, maybe I don’t actually think that way (langsats are delicious!), but sometimes I feel like I am that guy…and I’m from the west coast!  Life is really relaxed here, which wasn’t my initial impression during my first weeks wandering through insane traffic and shoulder-to-shoulder walking markets.  Its not that people in Thailand do any fewer things during the day, its just that they don’t do them with such a frenzied and desperate persistence as we may do in America.  People are just calmer and happier here.  So happy they could sing!

Happiness as a culture is pretty simple really, but often we only talk-the-talk in America.  To perpetuate happiness, people in Thailand constantly spread their compassion.  “Share the love” is a common theme with Thai people (Except for the taxi drivers…paed sip baht to get to Thapae gate?  What planet are you from?).  I volunteered to help teach Thai teachers some English language skills on saturdays.  The above teacher wanted to share with us a song, completely interrupting my lecture on how to ask questions in English, which was a riveting one I might add.  In fact, it was such a meaningful lecture, it drove these four educators to share some love.

Yes, that is four grown men “cheating”….or “sharing answers.”

The Thai in my office are extremely friendly and giving.  They often share fruit or random bags of pork with me.  They had me at random bags of pork.  Everyone in the English department at Prince Royal’s College has helped me to settle in Chiang Mai in some way or another.  Ajan Jasmine helped me move all my bags from one apartment to another on a random Tuesday at 10pm at night.  Ajan Sumalai spent a whole Sunday afternoon driving me to a garage to help me buy a motor bike.  Why yes, ladies, that is a basket on the front.

Don’t think that this kindness is limited to my fellow teachers, however.  At a random bar hidden in the alleys of the old city, my friends and I sat surrounded by candles, the bar owner, his few buddies, and the sounds of Cher reggae covers.  After a couple of rounds, the bartender asks if we wanted some barbecue.  When we asked “Tao rai?” he looked confused.  “No pay, we are just barbecuing, do you want some?”  Next thing we know he’s bringing us platters of bbq pork back fat and bbq cow udder.  “Its the thought that counts,” was painted on the faces of my vegetarian friends.

Madame T has opened up her home to me, always refills my drinking water free of charge, and often offers to take me out to dinner, even though I think she is having trouble making ends meet.  I’ve tried refusing these types of offers on several occasions, to which she usually replies, “We have to share,”  and hands me some sweet bread.

“Who says we have to?” would be a completely insane question to ask following this statement.  Its the way of life here, and I’m pretty ok with it.  We Americans are constantly attempting to impart our ways upon other cultures (Case in point: sending me to Thailand to teach English).  In actuallity, we might be in greater need of the sharing and kindness ingrained in the Thai lifestyle.  I’m not trying to preach, but I think it would do wonders for the stress levels and societal gaps.  It has certainly helped my sanity and personal well-being so far.  I realized after volunteering on Saturday that I had learned a lot more from that teacher’s singing than my class of Thai educators did from “Why, What, When, Where, How: Getting to the Bottom of Things,” with Ajan Maxwell Honch.

And in case you’re wondering, cow udder tastes a lot like chicken….really chewy chicken.  Do I have any teet in my teeth?

“Teacher, teacher!”

“Student, student!” I respond.

“Do you speak Thai?”

“No, I only know a couple phrases.”

“Oooooooooooooo!”

If I had a time machine, this would be one of the mistakes I’ve made in my life that I would address first (There have been quite a few.  For example: two days ago when I got yelled at for taking a picture of this grumpy taser salesman).  My students now know that they have the upper hand in EVERY single situation they may encounter with me, until I become fluent in Thai…which probably won’t happen very soon.  At first I was just herding cats, now I’m herding cats who can organize and conspire against me.  And not just a few cats, but 12 sections of cats.

There are 50 students in each section.  600 students per week.  They can smell my fear.

Just look at ’em!  Ready to strike at a moment’s notice.  When I say strike, I mean watch videos on their smart phones, play Yugioh cards in the back, play soccer in the back, write on the white board when I’m not looking, wrestle, leave the classroom, and so on.

But they’re not always being this crazy…well at least for one day each year: Wai Khru Day!  I mostly liked it because of the local style of lanna shirt I was required to wear.  I think I worked it pretty hard.

On this day, students pay respect to their teachers.  Educators are respected much more than in America.  I’m not sure of the accuracy of the information, but I’ve been told here that the ranking of respect goes Royalty–>Monks–>Teachers.  Dropping the phrase, “Phom bin khru” (I am a teacher), did help me knock yi sip baht off the price of that snazzy shirt.

Naturally, I deserved the upmost respect as I had been teaching for two whole days.  At the Wai Khru Ceremony, the other teachers asked me to lead the procession onto the stage in front of all the students, which was a mistake on their part.  I had no idea where to go, and ended up turing around, walking back across the stage, and asking another teacher.  The students’ giggles will ring in my ears forever.

Once I found my seat and the ceremony began, I was met by a strange mixture of Buddhist prayers and Christian hymns, all followed by bowing.  Then the students presented their elaborate floral creations to us.  Each homeroom had made a several-tiered masterpiece to be judged in a friendly competition.  My favorite had a floating lotus flower perched on top.

The whole ceremony was pretty overwhelming.  After more songs, prayers, and bowing, I was back in the classroom, where the respect ended.  I don’t remember accomplishing anything, but I do remember yelling a lot.  This helped me to realize that I was being too serious in my teaching.  By losing my cool and screaming, I had lost face, which is very much avoided in Thai culture.  I’ve been trying so hard to get everyone completely quiet and in their seats so they could listen to me lecture about the present tense…this strategy was exhausting.  I’m a conversational English teacher and my class only contributes to 20% of each student’s grade.  Learning was not occurring when I tried to take my classes so seriously.

The Thai education system was a shock for me.  Several trends struck me, and have kept a usually mellow man on edge.  First, there is no punctuality.  Some students wander in 15-20 minutes late like its no problem.  Second, cheating is rampant, especially when they know you don’t speak Thai.  Third, the threat of bad grades means nothing to students.  The Thai teachers have asked me to just pass everyone, even if they’re turning in blank papers to me, which happens more often than you’d think.  I can’t change these cultural trends, even though they disagree with my personal pedagogy.  Trying to fight these trends is stopping my personality and teaching style from coming out during class.

I’ve spent far too much energy trying to be a disciplinarian instead of trying to get students excited to use even just a little English.  The students are hilarious, so why am I being so dry?  Time to start playing some games and finding ways to tame this herd of cats other than the thrilling combination of worksheets and yelling.