Facts About the Job

As with Jules' previous entry, this one was written over a week ago, but we never posted it because we thought we'd add to it. Here are the details of what we teach, so maybe our "Jumble of Thoughts" entries will become clearer.

Our first week of teaching was an interesting one. I teach grades 1st through 8th in the morning, while Julia teaches three different Kindergarten levels, and in the afternoon we both teach 9th through 12th. I have each class for one hour a week, which as you will find, has its pros and cons. The way they set up many schools in Thailand is, they have an A track and a B track for every level. This turns out to be more important than the grade level they're in, as our Secondary 2/1 or 3/1 (which is like 9th and 10th grade) know more and are smarter than our 4/2 or 5/2 (which is like 11th and 12th grade). At first, this system seems to be the opposite of what we'd want for students. If the levels aren't mixed, then those who are right on the cusp who end up in the lower class, will only end up sinking down. Or those who are put in the lower class might feel they shouldn't try because they've already been labeled and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We thought about it though, and developed many theories as to why they might feel this is the best system for the kids. For one, the classes are large, so they already had to split them up in order to have a maximum of 40 in every class. They might have tried randomizing it, but soon found that the smarter/more hard-working kids were prevented from learning because of the trouble-makers and class clowns. Additionally, as with most schools in and around Chiang Mai, foreigners come, teach 6 months to a year, then leave. So every year these students are subjected to a new foreigner who has come to change the world in a White Man's Burden type of way (not dancing around the fact that we're slightly guilty in this). After a conversation with one of the better English speakers, we learned that they tell the students the "1" or "A" track is for science, while the "2" or "B" track is for language (aka, they want their smarter students to go into the hard sciences, while they leave the floofly arts and humanities to their lower-level kids. Because who in their right mind would study Psychology or English or Art right?). An interesting approach to say the least. I'm just glad they're at least telling the kids the difference between 1 and 2 is what they study, even if some of them do figure out that the 1 class is technically better. Additionally, similar to Western Education, the kids are placed in their track and pretty much stay on that course for the rest of their grade-school education. Once you're in advanced math, you stay on the advanced math course. So track "A" or "1" kids have been track 1 kids since the very beginning.

With this schedule, Julia and I think of a combined total of about 4 lesson plans in a week. Julia thinks of two for the morning classes, because she sees many of her classes twice a week. I think of one for all of my morning classes for the week, because though I'm teaching different grade levels, I teach the same thing. It's just a matter of making the activity or conversation or vocabulary more complex or simple depending on their level and age. And then in the afternoon, we teach the same lesson plan to each of our classes, again varying the level of difficulty. As you may guess, this is one major pro of having each class for one hour once a week.

More PROS about our teaching schedule:

1. Two part-time jobs actually have higher pay and fewer work hours when compared to a full-time job (BUT, see number 2 in the CONS).
2. The first school provides lunch for us before we have to go off to the second school. THIS. IS. GLORIOUS. Not only are the lunches plentiful and DELICIOUS (in Thai: aroi), they're (technically) FREE! So we collapse after three straight hours of teaching, and enjoy an authentic Thai lunch of chicken or curry or noodles with some sort of fruit and some sort of soup. Not having to worry about our lunches saves us so much time and stress AND money. What's not to like? (Well, the ONE thing not to like is that we only get about 15 minutes to eat it (J. during which time we normally must make strained conversation with the very nice principal, which is pretty much another English lesson) before we have to go to our next job)
3. The commute is not too bad because we have a driver who does most of the commute for us. We drive our motorbike (which I actually love doing) about 20 minutes to a school, then we have a driver to take us from that school to our morning school (another half hour), then our afternoon school (15 more minutes), and then back to the first school (15 minutes), where we take our motorbike home (20 minutes). Total, the commute is about an hour to our first school, but we don't have to be up until 8, and we can sometimes get home as early as 2, or more often 3:30.
4. J: Our new "bosses" at each school are very friendly and reasonable. They're constantly giving us snacks and coffee and water and telling us to sit down with them and relax. Often at bizarre times, like when our driver is late so we are five minutes late and come in rushing off to class. The teachers and aides are also very friendly and polite, and we have offers for guides and facebook friends. It's a very comfortable working atmosphere and we feel valued and accepted by the administration, which is a huge bonus. In a way, it's nice to be the only English teachers at a faraway school, because they appreciate that you exist at all, not to mention commute an hour each way to work for them. They have much more reasonable standards than our main boss (which is good and bad). We were prepared to make different lesson plans for each level of our high school classes, but hastily backpedaled when the principal told us "Oh, yeah, you can do one lesson plan for the whole week, that will be great!".   

CONS about our teaching schedule:

1. An obvious con is that we don't actually get to cover much in the time that we have. And it's harder to review the information the next time we see them, because they've already had a week of other classes. As I mentioned in the last post, it seems like we're more of the fun break that the kids have than the actual teacher coming in with a set curriculum.
2. Because we have two part-time jobs instead of a full-time job, we don't get many benefits. Besides not having medical insurance, we don't get paid holiday (and there are a lot this semester). We also have very few breaks as we get to the first school, teach three classes, eat a quick lunch, and then hurry off to the second school to teach.
3. J: It doesn't seem like we are expected to grade our students in any way, which is 1. bizarre 2. time-saving 3. very annoying. There is no motivation for the kids to do anything if they aren't at the very least having their papers graded or studying for some sort of test. We can only give positive reinforcement.  

So for now, we are going to enjoy this wild ride of our first job(s) in Thailand. But in the long term, we're hoping to secure a more permanent job that is closer to Chiang Mai. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Julia's Jumble of Thoughts

This entry was mostly written a week ago, but I never managed to finish it. So keep that in mind!

Thoughts on teaching. I'd say what seems like the best advice for teaching is something my Dad always says and that applies to nearly all situations: Have a plan, but above all be flexible! I can spend hours on a lesson plan and have it all fall apart in the first five minutes, so I've learned to loosen up a little and only make a very vague outline that I can adapt on the fly. This ends up being a lot less stressful both inside and outside the class.

For example, here were my lesson plans for today.
Morning: Days of the week, hello song, action game, color flashcards, color song, color game.
Afternoon: Slang, What is "famous", have kids write name of a famous person, review of yes/no questions, put name of famous person on each kid's back, have them ask yes/no questions to guess.

Previously, my lesson plans were very detailed and even included dialogue so I could be sure to explain directions clearly. But really...that was stupid. You don't know how the kids will respond at all, and it's best to just take it as it comes.

Fortunately and unfortunately, I have learned that a lesson plan I would expect to take five minutes will take half an hour. Especially with the older kids. A note on the older kids: These guys have been learning English for at least TEN YEARS. For anyone who complains about how the American school system does not prepare us at all as worldly people, deals terribly with languages, and doesn't take advantage of the critical period to impart language learning skills, I say: yes and no. I would say that after four years of high school French (and even 6 months of Hindi), my classmates and I would be more competent in those classes now than these kids are in English. After. Ten. Years. Not helping their case, every class in the afternoon comes with a Thai aide, who tends to frustratingly, but with good intentions, translate everything I say, no matter how simply I try to say it. The kids just don't have to try, and that stagnates them. I've found the same to be true in other countries. Quality over quantity. If the kids don't care, and don't immerse themselves outside of school, it just isn't going to happen. The school would be better off saving their money, buying good books and hiring good teachers, and immersing their kids in an English program only when they're older. And, oh wait, there we have the American system! So for as much flak as it gets, I think our system is really not the worst way to go about it. We certainly have a lot to learn from Europe, but don't we always?

I'll give you an idea of their level. Here's a common command I give, very slowly, and with gestures, to a classroom of 18 year old Thai students: "Please write....please write...ONE sentence...about yourself. About you. One sentence. Write one sentence...about you." After this, I will write an example on the board, because Thais thrive on examples. I try not to write too many, because then they just copy them all down and don't think of anything themselves (I have also learned to erase them almost immediately after writing them, which is greeted by horrified responses). After I do this, the Thai aide translates the instructions and examples many times. After this entire procedure, I will turn to the class and see everyone staring at me, not writing anything. At this point I will try going up to the sharper ones and, using a combination of main verbs and examples and repetition and pointing, try to get them to catch on, but they will just laugh and look confused and pretend to be busy. I will then go up to the board and write another example, and repeat the instructions in a new way, and have the Thai aide translate. After about ten minutes, 5 kids will have written something down, and it will be the example that I put on the board.

Basically, as useful as my Oxford Seminars training course was, it wasn't useful at all. To some degree, the situation is out of your hands. You're not going to be able to cover much, you're not going to be able to get them all to participate, and no matter how you simplify things sometimes they just won't understand. It's a common question in Thailand: Why, if the Thais take so many years of English in school, do Thais speak such terrible English? The answer is blaringly obvious, now! Government schools are supplied with Native English Speakers who don't really know how to teach, but try their best. In turn, the government schools allow them zero resources, save for a white board and (sometimes) white board markers. There's no way to see what the kids already know, because there are often not any books. The best we can do is try to teach them pronunciation and center lesson plans around things they may be vaguely interested in. But at the end of the day, grade 1 and grade 6 will get the same exact lesson plan, and they will do equally well with it. There is no progression at all, and the administration is really just okay with that. It's deeply frustrating and inspiring at the same time. Much of my free time is now consumed by trying to think of lesson plans that they will understand, and enjoy, and remember. I daydream about four months from now, when my students will be able to describe themselves with something other than "I am student". But then my next lesson plan bombs, but I adapt it, and by the end of the week someone learned what a "hint" was and how to properly say "what's up" and one of my students wrote "I like ice cream and I like cat" and I go to sleep excited about my lesson plan for the next week and a little less disappointed at my lack of teaching skills.

On the other hand, some of the students are great! It's strange going from being that one kid in the class who cares to being the teacher that clings to that one student. You see them sitting there, always finished early, always bored, always impatient with everyone else, and you just want to tell everyone else to go away so the passion in this one person won't die and I can teach them something. I want them to have the chance to be in the /1 classes and succeed, but of course, those are the cons of the tracking system. Anyway, a lot of the students are really cooperative and friendly and I can have full conversations with them and actually feel like me being an English speaker is useful to them. Which is great.

Also great are the little kids! My kindergarten classes are, for the most part, adorable and well behaved. It's a good morning when you come to class and are immediately hugged by 20 kindergarteners and greeted by a chorus of "Good morning khun kru [meaning teacher...we'll have to work on that one] Julia!". Thus, every morning is a good morning. They can be a little rowdy, but so far it's awesome to teach them the simple stuff and have them actually learn. As they get more used to what I want from them, things have become easier. At first some classes would just repeat literally everything I said, which made for some hilarious moments (imagine 30 four-year-olds with hand on hip all saying "You guys are so smart!" in chorus), but now they understand that sometimes they just need to listen. I'm rediscovering my love for kids as I use puppets and silly voices and all that good stuff. But three hours of teaching kids is pretty exhausting!

At this point I feel like I'm just rambling, so I'll move on. Chiang Mai traffic! Driving a motorcycle! I'd just like to mention that when I met Ariel, she was proud to say that she didn't know how to ride a bike and hadn't driven a car since getting her license over 5 years ago. A week ago, we bought our first motorbike, and now Ariel changes gears and goes on the freeway like nobody's business. You never know how things will change! Let me rephrase: When you are Ariel, you can do whatever you want to do because you are hard working and determined and accept that your fate is entirely in your hands. Let me also mention that one year ago, I sent Ariel out to get garlic and she returned five minutes later freaked out because she didn't actually know what it looked like. Today, Ariel makes Thai tea from scratch from her own recipe, makes half of our meals, and is showing an alarming amount of interest in buying a blender. The other day she wanted to buy a book about cooking a variety of things in your rice cooker. I checked her for a fever. Also, for those of you who know about Ariel and clothes, I will mention that her floor is spotless. She puts all her clothes on a shelf after wearing them. In the space of a year, and in some cases just a month, Ariel has become a domestic, badass biker chick. Watch out world. You don't even know!

Oh, I forgot to talk about Thai traffic. Right. Basically, Thais are so good at driving. I'm pretty sure they have some sort of magic Thai-adapted horn that has an effect similar to a bicycle bell. It's just a little "meep!" that says "I'm coming up behind you! Just wanted to let you know!". On a Thai highway, you can drive as slowly as you like if you stay on the left, which is nice if you're scared or just learning or just don't want to be speeding along with the cars. There are traffic lights, but you really only need follow them if someone is coming. If there's room for you to turn onto a street, go ahead and do so! There are always so many things happening on the street that everyone is watching out for them. So it's okay! Go on! This is not to say that driving is easy, by any means, but it at least makes sense and isn't as stressful as it could be.

Our little documentary-esque 3 month experiment with living on the poverty line continues to be interesting. Apparently, yes, you can survive on $30 a month. Without getting scurvy. The secret is: instant noodles, tomatoes, potatoes, rice, eggs, tofu, milk, and tuna. Surprisingly, all of these things are as expensive or more so than in America, but they get the job done. This is also where our free and delicious lunch at school really comes in handy. Also: don't do laundry, be sure to buy food at the local market, thrive on the "reduced for quick sale" items. Make tin foil-lined cardboard screens for your windows (to block out the sun) to save on air conditioning. Use everything that pumpkins have to offer. Limit toilet paper use by doing it Asian-style. Take advantage of all possible ways to make money on the internet. This is beginning to sound a little like the Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen Song. One might think that living this way would get tiresome, but surprisingly no: when you're living with your best friend, poverty can be kind of fun. There are always water drinking competitions, adventures with vegetables (pumpkin soup, pumpkin seeds, watermelon carving, the how-many-dishes-can-I-make-with-a-potato game), Harry Potter book marathons, trips to go window shopping in grocery stores...We have been fortunate enough to spend money on things that will really save us a lot of money in the long run, like our little motorbike Sparkules. We have been very blessed by free lunches at school that give us the majority of our nutrients. And hopefully, in two weeks (pay day), the experiment will be over! Luckily we have the luxury of labelling it as such.

I think we have another blog draft in the works, so I'll go ahead and wrap up this long winded one. Thanks for reading!

A Jumble of Thoughts

I wanted to get our big blog entry out there about how we spent our Halloween and how our job is going so far, but the weekend came and went and now the new school week snuck up on us. I have just found out, however, that my classes are cancelled for the rest of the morning because apparently Ovaltine has come to the school and is giving a presentation. So I decided to take this unexpected break to get some thoughts down. Also you'll have to excuse any absent-minded stream-of-consciousness writing because I just had my arguably worst worst class of the week (my first grade class B which means not my A class which means havoc and phone-stealing, crying children, shouting, running, and possibly 5 students actually trying to learn) and am thoroughly wiped out and discombobulated. Oh yes, and I'm typing this on my iPhone.

Now that we're actually creating lesson plans, there are some things I learned from the Oxford Seminars course (and from my few instances of teaching or mentoring students in the past) that I have had the opportunity to put into practice (if there is anyone from Oxford Seminars reading this, maybe this can help, though it probably mostly applies to Thailand or Southeast Asia only).

Any classroom management strategies I've read about simply don't work. They just don't. There are preliminary procedures, like establishing rules on the first day and sticking to them. Having a level system in which kids get a mark for each time they act up, which eventually results in a penalty or punishment of some sort (did anyone else have those color cards in elementary school, where they start the day at blue, and then one penalty goes to green, then orange, then red?). I can't do any "establishing" rules because for most farang (foreign) teachers, and especially for Jules and I, we entered the school year during the second semester. Additionally, we only teach every class for one hour once a week. We are just the one hour foreign teacher break the kids get, so we're not to be taken seriously. This takes some pressure off of us, but also prevents us from having any continous lesson plans, or really reviewing something we've taught them the week before. It's like we're just the P.E. class: every class takes it, but nobody really takes it seriously. Then there are rewards and punishments. I can't punish the kids because for one, I can't speak Thai, so nothing I can say to them will make sense. The best I can do is yell at them, which I don't think solves anything. Besides which, raising your voice is nothing when you are in a place that practices corporal punishment. As long as I don't have a stick in my hand, it doesn't matter. So my final plea of trying to get these first graders under control, is to just reward the good with "good job!"s and smiles and nods of approval, while I ignore the three students who are following me around trying to steal my phone and notebook. The funny thing is, outside of class, these kids love me. They run to say hi to me and give me hugs. But in class, they couldn't care less if I existed at all.

Additional things I learned from Oxford Seminars that DON'T work:
Checks for Understanding. For those that didn't take Julia and my "Learn how to teach English in 100 hours" course (and for those that aren't or haven't been a teacher), checks for understanding happen after you explain directions for the next activity. You ask the class specific questions like, "What do you do after I give you a piece of paper?" and they answer (ex: "Write your name!"), thus demonstrating that they understand what they need to do. Well, to sum up how it works here: Nope. It doesn't. The kids don't understand when you're asking a question. Besides the fact that they don't fully understand English intonations (like your voice going up at the end of a sentence to indicate a question), they just can't grasp that you want them to answer you, not repeat after you. No matter how slow, or how simply I speak, I can't get them to understand that I'm checking that they know what to do.

Some things I learned from Oxford Seminars that DO work:
Repetition. The kids in Thailand, and especially in the younger grades, are all about repeating what you say. This isn't all that great because they don't think for themselves or try to think outside the box; they will just repeat and copy whatever you say. Still, on the bright side, as a native English teacher, I can try to teach them proper pronunciation and intonation. Since Thai is a tonal language, they're all about mimicing it with the exact rhythm and ups and downs of my voice. I will say a word or sentence by pointing at myself, then get them to repeat or answer by cupping my ear.

Demonstrating conversation. When I draw a face on the board with a speech bubble and write "A" above it, then another face and write "B" (like a cartoon), the students immediately understand that this is a conversation. I'll write "A" saying, "Hello! How are you?" and "B" responds with, "I'm fine, thank you. And you?" Then I'll pair up the students and say one is "A" and the other is "B" and I'll point to the board, and they'll instantly know. I gesture that I want them to practice, and they do! It actually works great, and I can get them to have many conversations with this simple template. I can get them to think for themselves a little bit if I leave a blank too. For example, we went over emotions (happy, sad, angry, scared, tired) and then in the conversation, one of the students has to fill in the blank, "I'm _____."

As you can hopefully see, I'm learning what it's like to come in with certain goals, ideas, and activities and just seeing if they work. All of teaching is trial and error. I finally understand what it's like to hone your lesson plan and find out what works for what level until you have it down to a T. I understand how a teacher can get more and more comfortable after their first year of teaching. Of course I knew teaching was a long-term investment. Besides Kindergarteners, you can't see kids immediately learning before your eyes. The benefits that come from being a teacher involve years of work. Of course I knew that. But the long-term investment thing applies to almost every aspect of the job. Improvement in the students, improvement in my ability to teach, gaining experience, forming long-lasting relationships with staff, co-workers, and students, etc. ALL OF TEACHING is LONG-TERM.

That being said, this job is simultaneously easy and the most challenging thing for me. In some ways, I feel like I'm a natural. I can come up with a lesson plan and think of new ways to approach it on the spot when it's not working. I am easily enthusastic, I'm good at laughing at myself and letting/encouraging the students to laugh with at me (like when I accidentally use the wrong side of the eraser, and all of my third graders start laughing, I can't help but turn around and laugh with them). I'm terrible at classroom management. I don't know if that's just here in Thailand, or if I just need to get better with it. And I need to improve upon almost every lesson plan I come up with. It's fulfilling work, definitely, but it's exhausting. Most of the pressure to do well is from within. It's my goals I have for the students to learn, and if I can't get them to learn what I set out to teach them, I'm the only one who feels like I've failed.

Now that my jumbled thoughts are finally winding down, I'd like to thank you, whoever reads this blog, for letting me use it as a place to record my random thoughts and feelings. Having such a public diary can be the most embarassing thing. In 10 years, wherever I am, I may be laughing at how naive and silly I was as I reread these entries. But for now, let's laugh together. I don't want to take life too seriously. I want to enjoy it.





And one more thing, for those of you who might know more about my life, Alexi-day is coming up (November 16th). It will have been two years since my beloved best friend, Alexi Deauzat, has passed away. Let's celebrate her memory together. Eat a peppermint, wear a skeleton key necklace, listen to the White Stripes. Fill yourself with laughter, speak in a shrill voice, and every once in a while, just squeal, "eeeee!"

Much love,
Aire

Being White

This post serves three purposes:

1. To tell you that we are alive

2. To inform you that a big juicy post will be coming up shortly (I'd like to say within the week, but no promises)

3. To say how the topic of being white came up today in conversation and it reminded me of one of my all-time favorite bits from Louis C.K. Following is the conversation and then the video clip:

Jules (in talking about driving a motorbike around): How about the cops here, how bad are they?

Guy: They're not bad at all. Sometimes they have checkpoints, but all you have to do really is lift your helmet so they can see that...you're white, and they'll be like, "Okay have a great day! Have fun, you know, being white!"

I laughed. It's refreshing to openly talk about race, something that I feel isn't always tolerated--or maybe just isn't always done--in America. But in other countries, and especially for us during our travels in Southeast Asia with Julia being white and me being a mixed ambiguous race, race comes up a lot.

As I said, look forward to a long entry coming soon! For now, here's the vid: 

A Not So Lazy Sunday

J: Yesterday was very bizarre.

All we knew to expect was contained in the following text message from our boss: "Meet at [our school] at 8am. We want to show you your new school. We will be there a few hours". Knowing to expect nothing but uncertainty and variability from her, we prepared as best we could. By packing a banana. At 8am, of course there was no boss to be found, so we waited around for another 40 minutes until she popped her head in and said "Hello! Come on!" as if she had been there all along and we were the ones who had kept HER waiting. Typical. She lives next door to this branch of the school, so it's always fun to look up at her room and guess what stage of lateness she's currently in (brushing her teeth, plucking her eyebrows, doing yoga?). As we piled into the van (this van is the size of a typical minivan, but somehow seats 12 legitimately. I didn't know those existed!), we realized that we were also being accompanied by her husband, who co-runs the school with her, and her secretary (who looks to be about 18), who after supplying us with correct visa paperwork has earned our affection. Being unable to think of any reason why the two of them would need to come along, we waited patiently in hopes that this would somehow be elucidated. In the car we were given the books we may or may not be able to use, and told to decide before we arrived who would be teaching which grades for the next 6 months. Based on the very limited information we had and my current state of carsickness, that decision probably wasn't the most informed.

Upon arriving at the school, we were ushered into a big sparse room and awkwardly sort of introduced to about 6 people with unpronounceable names. There was lots of wai-ing and head nodding and blank smiles. Some sort of debate/negotiation ensued in Thai, lasting about an hour. Just as our boss was turning to us and starting to say "Oh, they say that..." everyone suddenly stood up and we, bewildered, followed them into another nearby building which appeared to be a house. There, the table was set with assorted tea time foods and fruit baskets. The owners of the school practically hand-fed us enormous kumquats and grapes and bananas until everyone broke out into what seemed like more friendly Thai banter. These situations are always strange, as its anybody's guess as to the social protocol. Are you allowed to completely zone out and pig out on delicious Thai fruits? Should you maintain eye contact as if you too were engaged in the conversation? Should you laugh when everyone else laughs as if you have any idea what's being said? Should you pretend it's normal to be in a psuedo-interview in which no one is speaking your language or asking you any questions or seems to have any interest whatsoever in your capabilities or expectations? Just as we were wondering why we were there and if our presence would ever actually be required, everyone got up again and we stood in a foyer as the owners asked us adorable things like "You are happy?". We somehow communicated that we would like to visit the school across the street, where Ariel will be working, but we were blissfully unaware of the complexities such a journey would entail. It took about ten minutes for all of the women in the party to be properly outfitted with an umbrella for the arduous journey across The Street. Once suitably shaded, we made our way over (it looked exactly like every other Thai school, and we made sure to assure them it was beautiful and magnificent and we were very excited to work there), there was more Thai discussion until it was decided we should meander back. After what seemed like endless wai-ing we returned to the safety of the mini van, delighting in the prospect of being home before noon.

But this was, of course, not the case. After getting back into the van, it became apparent why our boss's husband had come too - Lamphun, the small province south of Chiang Mai where our school is located, is renowned for its cheap furniture shops, and he was beyond elated by the prospect of visiting them all. Before yesterday, we had met this guy several times and instinctively liked him despite never having a lengthy conversation. He balances out our boss in a way that transforms her from an over-ambitious, careless manager to an absent-minded person capable of deep caring. I always like when partners do that to each other - somehow manage to better the other simply by existing and loving them so much, and not taking them so seriously. He's very blunt and witty, and in just a sentence often calms our "OMG this is so absurd why is this happening is this normal?!" mentality by pointing out the reality of the situation. During the umbrella fiasco, he made fun of the girls for not wanting to get tan and then commented "There are too many gay guys in Thailand who use umbrellas and are too girly. Me, I refuse". During tea, when our boss subtly passed him a kumquat to peel, he loudly retorted "Are you kidding?! You eat the skin." The rest of us were then free to make as many fruit-related blunders as we liked. I like that he doesn't take any social situation too seriously, and in doing so breaks up the tension for everyone involved. Anyway, so we spent the next two hours perusing furniture shops on the side of the road. I guess our boss was stoked on how cheap everything was compared to American prices, because she kept converting all the prices to dollars and exclaiming "only 30 dollars! Isn't that cheap? I bet you're thinking of an export company now!" which was bizarre to us because furniture prices is actually something we would never think to translate to dollars. That would be like freaking out because you found out you can remodel your kitchen for $200 in Mexico. It just...has no translatable value because it's not something you can actually transport. I'm not thinking of shipping a 3-piece sofa back home to my mom for Christmas just because it's $10 cheaper here.

After loading up the van with gaudy decorations, we were driven to a restaurant and told to order whatever we wanted. It's nice being in a country where debates over the bill just don't really happen, and are actually considered rude. If you're going out to dinner and you're younger, you don't pay. If you're less wealthy, you don't pay. If you're not the boss, you don't pay. Luckily, in pretty much every situation in Thailand, we won't have to pay. So, in a way we never would in America, we sat back and enjoyed our accidental free lunch. During lunch the assistant (who speaks pretty much zero English) showed us pictures of this pizza place with 20 inch pizzas, and somehow one thing led to another and by 3pm, when we finally arrived home, we had been invited to dinner 4 times.

While our day was happening, we tried to think of some sort of American comparison so you could understand how strange this situation was for us. Here goes: Imagine you live in San Francisco and have had a little tension with your boss before you even start the job - she had promised you a job and accepted all your paperwork only to hire someone else and not even call you. After implying that she has several more positions available for you and has you interview for all of them, she tells you she doesn't have any more work for you in her SF branch, but finds a place for you to work in Oakland because you guilted her into doing so. On the day you think she's taking you to Oakland to see your new place and work out the terms and expectations, she brings along her husband and assistant (who seems more like a daughter). After your meeting in which you say practically nothing, you all unexpectedly head to IKEA. After perusing for a while and trying out some beds with your boss, you wait around while she has some of the ugliest things in the store packaged for her (A: Seriously, she bought this mirror frame, bird wall decoration sculpture something, and a tiny chair and asked our opinion of it. They were the ugliest things I've ever seen. I think I replied by saying, "Well I like it better than that one over there! haha *points at random sculpture of a sun*"). After IKEA, you all head to the Cheesecake Factory, where your boss orders 8 dishes for 4 people and insists you try everything. Then you get a tour of a high school in downtown Oakland, because it turns out that's where your boss's assistant went. And then you get an invitation to Benihana's for dinner four hours later.

A: Julia with our boss trying out a race car bed (complete with speakers and massage chairs on each side). I think our boss was seriously considering buying it at one point. This is our life. And--as always--Julia's face says it all.

A: Managed to catch a quick photo of Jules with one of our provided parasols as we walked about 200 meters from one school to the other. Tan is bad.

This is how far the school is from our apartment. Dayum, son.

A: As we waddled home, inexplicably car sick and desperate for more sleep, we decided to keep the dinner invitation open and respond after naps. Three hours later, I woke up and spent about five minutes composing  a text that eventually said, "We're still full from lunch! What time is dinner again? :)" (It took a long time to decide whether to include that smiley face and to be honest I wasn't even sure if she knew what that was as she responded with, "At 7. We meet at [insert school here]. Then we eat at 7:30.") But with my, "We'd love to go!" response, we headed out to have dinner with our boss. To our surprise, this dinner turned out to be with the whole fambam--our boss, her husband, the secretary, her brother, his son and daughter, and even her Bible studies teacher. We barely talked with our boss and instead ended up conversing with her Bible studies teacher and her brother most of the time. But at the end of the meal, she turned to us and with what seemed like a genuine smile said, "I'm glad you came." At this point I realized she had probably decided to take us under her wing. From the very beginning, she's talked about how young we are and how we're the same age as her son who is currently studying in America. And spending a whole day with her and even being invited to dinner with the family? Come on. That's like boyfriend/girlfriend induction into the family status.

I'd also like to insert a random observation in here: The way Thai people ask questions is with the subject first. So instead of saying, "Do you like the school?" they would say "You like the school?" This would be okay except that they don't quite have the correct intonations relating to English punctuation, since all of Thai is tonal. So it ends up sounding like a statement. On top of that, Thai has no tenses. Taught/teach/teaching/etc. is virtually the same word in Thai. You can imagine this leads to many awkward situations or micommunications, like when the owner of the school turned to me and said, "You are happy" and I just nodded and smiled until my boss clarified he meant, "Are you happy/satisfied with our school?" Or even better, when the assistant principal, who was about to talk about all the challenges that come with teaching 3-to 5-year-olds, said to Julia "You teach kindergarten" and with Julia's nod, the lady quickly responded with, "Good then this will be no problem." And it wasn't until a few seconds later that we realized she was asking if Julia had any experience teaching Kindegarteners before as opposed to asking if Julia was the one who will be taking over the Kindergarten class. When I'm typing it out like this, it sounds like something we should be able to easily pick up. But trust me, when you're in the situation and grasping onto any bit of broken English that you might be able to understand and respond to, the whole asking a question by saying a statement thing gets quite befuddling.

J: I'm still confused about how we went from being on tense terms with our boss and grasping at straws for a job at her school to spending the entire day together and being inundated with requests to work at her such and such school or help with his such and such program. I can only hope that they saw some shining bit of promise in us, and not that this entire process has been completely random and spontaneous. Who knows, maybe the next time we see her we won't have a job. Or even worse, no free meals. 

Thai ----> Laos

Jules and I have been excited about this blog post. For two main reasons: 1. Our trip to Lao(s) was--in a word--weird. And in a phrase, a plethora of things that makes one wonder and question. 2. When we came back, we researched Wikipedia'd more about the country and let me tell you, that explained a lot. But before you read that link, I thought it would be interesting to separate this post into those same two parts: 1. Our experience and observations and 2. Some helpful facts and anecdotes as to why Lao is the way it is.
We'll also be switching off who's doing the writing, so we'll clarify that with an A or a J (And just to clarify everything and make this an even more long-winded intro, we made a friend! on the bus ride from Thailand to Laos, and she makes a few cameos in our stories).

A: Our trip to Lao, or more accurately, Vientiane, was an interesting one. To be perfectly honest, Vientiane is a surprisingly uneventful place to visit. And this is not to say that Lao is not a beautiful and exotic country. I'd like to think Vientiane is to Lao what the Midwest is to the USA (In the same way that Delhi inaccurately represents the whole of India). Nobody goes to Kansas and feels like they know America. (Also so as not to offend anybody I'd like to clarify that I'm not saying the Midwest isn't probably a great place to live, just that it doesn't represent America as a whole, and I'm hoping that Vientiane is the same.)

First of all, we're pretty sure the whole town is populated either by tourists waiting for their Thai visas or locals who were born and raised there. In an almost depressing way, I don't think anybody else is in that town by choice. The Thai consulate won't do same-day visas, not even emergency ones, so everybody is forced to stay there for at least a night. Which seems like a great marketing ploy by the government except that everything closes by 10, and the most happening bar still closes at 11:30. In fact, when asking one of the locals who works a backpacker-friendly dorm hostel about the great eats and night life, he responded with, "no, there's no good food" and "no, there's nothing to do." The town was once under French rule, and the remnants of that mostly lie in the cheap and abundant baguette sandwiches. When we were walking around at night trying to find a place to relax possibly with a Beerlao in hand, we were pointed to the only place where everybody was--a rooftop bar on a lonely street by the river (sorry to interrupt the flow of this story but I'd just like to point out that naming your most popular beer "Beerlao" is exactly equivalent to us having a "BeerUSA," which becomes comical in that context because you know, 'murica and all).

(Side story to my side story, when we were trying to find this bar, we might have already had a few Beerlaos, and we ended up walking to the top floor of what I think was an apartment complex and finding this place:

Haleigh even tried looking around the corner to see if we were missing something. I think Jules' face says it all. J: No, I think it says a lot that these are our only 3 pictures from Lao.)

J: There are a couple perplexing things that stand out in Vientiane. Most prominent are what appear to be the only forms of advertisement: signs for Beerlao, the country's most popular beer (why do you need to advertise your only - and thus very popular - beer?), and communist flags. Taken alone they are a bit odd, but seen together, they're enlightening! Beerlao appears to be the most exciting thing to do in Vientiane. Activities topping the tourist to-do list include, but are not limited to: drink a Beerlao while watching  the sunset on the river. When we finally found a bar, much less one that was open after 9, men attempting to buy us drinks insisted feverishly that we simply must try the Beerlao. Judging from the resounding Laotion appreciation for this cheap little beverage, to them this was probably the equivalent of suavely recommending a medium bodied, reddish brown IPA with a balancing malt backbone. To us, it was more like someone insisting that you really must try the Miller Lite; you won't regret it; nothing is going to top this experience. Imagine our horror when, after coming back from the bathroom, we discovered that they had ordered a 6 liter beer tower of the stuff for us. Luckily, the unspoken Vientiane curfew of 11:30pm cut that night pleasantly short.

Naively, I assumed that a 750ml beer for $1.22 was the cheapest way to forget your communism woes. A quick trip to the minimart proved me earthshatteringly wrong - apparently you can easily pick up a liter of very sketchy looking whisky for $1.10. A country that's willing to drink hard liquor that costs less per liter than its own beloved beer (and not even twice as much as the cost of water) has got to have an interesting story. Turns out Lao has an unbelievably rocky history. Going from a country torn asunder by invaders and rebellions to one dominated by the French (who, as it turned out, were pretty apathetic about the country too), Lao's pre-independence years don't seem all that great. Subjectively speaking, post-independence hasn't been that kind either. After the communist revolution and Laos' subsequent involvement in the Vietnam war, the US launched a bombing campaign that lasted nearly a decade and made Laos the most heavily bombed country per capita in the world. What with this and what appear to be huge human rights issues, it's interesting that Lao is such an invisible entity to most Americans when we're clearly so entangled in its past, and thereby its present.  

A: One thing that I believe Lao so desperately needs to do is devalue its currency. Currently, $1 is 8,000 kip. What's even worse is that the conversion from Thai Baht to Lao Kip gives us a terrible rate. At one point we were trying to go to the bathroom and a lady was posted up outside charging us 2,000 kip! That's like 10 baht! Which is like being asked to pay $5 in America (I know I'm going on a lot of tangents, but one thing I really miss is being able to be like, "I'm sorry, I thought this was America! I thought this was the land of the free!" because even though that's just me making a joke, I don't get to say that here). We couldn't really find food for less than 20,000 kip although that might have been because we were in the tourist section of Lao. Yes 80 baht is still less than $3, but when living and working in a foreign country it's important to start thinking in that country's standard of living and in that case, paying 100+ baht per meal could get expensive. All of Vientiane lets tourists pay in Baht as well as Kip, however, which makes their exorbitant pricing reasonable. Because I felt like buying their resources and paying in another country's currency is like going to America and being like, "Well I don't have any of those dollar thingies but I've got Euros is that cool?" So rather than having to pay the ($8+) bank fees from pulling out of the wall, we would pay in baht and get kip in return.

This plan went great until our final hours, when our kip quickly dwindled. After a quick meal (a Lao street food sandwich consisting of dried shredded pork, a laughing cow cheese, cilantro, some red stuff, and some brown stuff in a baguette) and an unexpected extra 1,000 kip on the bus fee, we were but 5 baht short of the fee to get to the border, and this included what spare coins we had. Now don't think that we were ill-prepared and broke in a foreign country, just that all we had left was a 1,000 baht bill (which if you still haven't figured it out from all of our comparisons, is like having a fifty) and we weren't about to get a quarter of mil' kip change on our journey back to Thailand. So when the lady came around, we played pleading and desperate foreign tourists and explained that our last few kip and baht coins were all that we had. We were a little afraid of getting kicked off the bus, but India experience has taught us differently, and eventually the lady graciously let us only pay for one of us. Here we thought we had made it without having to break the bank, but Lao really milks the whole "we know you're only here for the visa run and not to tour our country, jerk" and they have a needless exit fee. To our benefit, the way they collected this fee had a loophole, and that was to walk around the lady that was collecting the fee. I see this as one of those moments where a country or government mimics more powerful countries by implementing similar practices, but doesn't quite do it correctly. The lady who made us turn around to buy the "ticket" that was our exit fee (of 9,000 kip each) was sitting at a table after immigration and customs and from what we saw, only ripped your ticket. So Haleigh pointed out that nobody was across the street and we all just made our way casually but quickly to the other side and walked past the point where the woman was sitting. There also happened to be duty free shopping there so we pretended like we had money as I called the minibus service to come pick us up. And, not surprisingly, that worked. Again, we saved ourselves 70 baht, and we were in the clear...

But we had yet to cross the Thai border. So here we are in no-man's land between Lao and Thailand and the bus to cross "Friendship Bridge" (A bridge built as a donation from Australia as a development aid for Lao) is 30 baht each. We asked a few people if we could just walk the distance, and found a guy that told us it was no more than half a kilometer and even gave us a map:

Man I wish I had a better quality picture, but this was all I could get at the time. Jules put it well when she said that as soon as he drew a circle and wrote "Laos," we knew this map wasn't winning any cartography awards. The thing is, he took SO long and was SO careful to add all the arrows and the lines in the road. I'm seriously still laughing as I upload the picture now (also the title of this blog entry was inspired by this map).

So we foolishly perked up believing half a kilometer's walk was worth 60 more baht in our pocket (J: and we still only had that 1000 baht bill. Sidenote, what currency does an ATM give in no-mans land?). Oh. My. God. Not only did the walk turn out to be 5.5 kilometers (as Jules looked up later on google maps), but the sun was setting, the weight of our backpacks was getting heavier, and it felt like the Thai border would never come. We had to climb over some barricades to pass the "Welcome to Thailand" and "Welcome to Laos" signs on the way too (at least I'm assuming that's what they said, since they were written in Thai and Lao), an indication to me that people don't normally go for strolls on the Friendship Bridge. Still, with the help of Jules', "It's just around the corner, I know it!" we made it to the Thai immigration and happily showed them our shiny new "Non-immigrant B" visas (also known as our "You can now legally work in Thailand" visas). We made it just in time to grab some yummy street food dinner, paid for at a reasonable price with reasonable currency. I missed Thailand. And to think Jules and I were going to originally stay in Vientiane for another day because we thought we might as well explore if we're being forced to travel there, but we quickly called the company the morning we were picking up the visas, because one day and one night in Vientiane is truly more than enough (not trying to sound like a miserable unappreciative white person, just being dramatic and also calling it like I sees it). We did have time the next day after picking up our passports to go to the Lao "Arc de Triomphe," which was actually quite beautiful and had a cute little market and a great view of the city (see pictures at the end).

The visa process--the whole reason we made this trip to Lao--was actually somewhat smooth. Anybody who wants a Thai visa has to go to the consulate and submit their paperwork sometime between 9 and noon. So that means grabbing a number and doing our best to check the correct boxes and answer unclear questions on the form as numbers are electronically called out in Thai and in English over the speakers. I was inexplicably nervous as it came closer to our number, but of course they ended up skipping us. And as the numbers continued upwards, I decided to just get up and go to the window, which turned out fine since they just took my paperwork and gave me a receipt. We then went inside and waited for our number to be called again so we could pay the 2,000 baht. This time Haleigh and Julia's number were called one after the other...and mine was skipped. But I think the guy entering the numbers saw how I reacted and figured out I must have been next so he went back and let me pay so we could leave. I'm probably going into too much detail on this part, but my reasoning is that you who are reading this might have been curious about the process and I didn't want to give more attention to the ridiculous 2,000 kip bathroom fee than the more important life-relevant visa run.

Then we had to go to the consulate the next day between 1 and 3 to pick up our passports. And that's about it. It went smoothly for us because our school thankfully provided all the proper paperwork, but I overheard some people getting rejected at the window. Though they won't refund you if you are denied a visa, they are nice enough to usually reject you before you pay. That way you don't end up thinking you're in the clear for your visa and finding your passport empty. All in all, mission accomplished right?

From the top of Vientiane's Patuxai

The delicious street food sammich

What'd I tell ya, mysterious red stuff and mysterious brown stuff

Some interesting old coins that every vendor seemed to have. Jules and I suspect they are fake, especially since one of them was an "old" American coin that we're pretty sure was never actually circulating currency

J: Now we're back in the comfort of our little home, regularly making batches of thai tea and nommin' on bananas and longans and mandarins. We missed Thailand.  

Saving Face

So far I’ve been pretty disappointed by how completely un-absurd the Thai people are. My favorite part of travelling is reveling in the absurdities around me, but Thailand is giving my drive to overanalyze an unwanted vacation. The Thais are just efficient and reasonable and logical people. Sigh. But don’t fret. The Thais still have their quirks.

Most pervasive, yet most invisible, is the Thai concept of saving face. This is definitely an Asian thing in general but absurdly prominent in Thai culture. Basically, anything that causes embarrassment or conflict is avoided at absolutely all costs. Sometimes this is more obvious than others – the oft-used anecdote of Thais giggling at an automobile accident, for instance. Thais try to laugh these situations off in public and (if absolutely necessary) deal with the conflict in private. This has been great for us, because as Americans we can be pretty embarrassing. Think of all the awkward and ridiculous things you end up doing as a tourist as you try to adapt to a radically different culture. Now subtract all the inevitable staring, dirty looks, and pity from passersby. In Thailand, moments of confusion and naivety get to be private instead of broadcasted. For someone like me who really values privacy and hates looking like an idiot, that aspect of saving face totally resonates with me. Saving face not only applies to embarrassment but also to arguments – we always find Thais breaking into awkward giggle fits during a debate that looks unequivocally heated. It’s certainly puzzling to have someone laugh at your obvious distress. Normal conclusions (e.g. they’re callous people or have major issues with social cues) don’t apply here. We’ve experienced this quite a lot in relation to our boss, who has given us a ton of trouble in the past couple of weeks. In some cases, we’ll be extremely upset about the situation and be further aggrieved to find her cavalierly tossing our concerns aside. Just as we’re about to call it a day and refuse to work for someone so heartless, she turns around and makes a concerted effort to give us what we want. It seems that us having a problem with her is twofold: she wants to downplay the situation for herself so that there is no conflict, but she also wants to keep us from showing anger so that we don’t lose face. To complicate matters, she also can’t confront that she’s made a mistake and is at fault. As a result, she fixes the problem for us only because she wants to maintain pride in herself for being a good, respected person. If you’re confused, don’t worry. So are we. It seems to me that a society that hinders people from using constructive criticism or calling someone out could be dysfunctional, dishonest, and unproductive, but there’s definitely more to the puzzle.  It prevents a lot of conflict and makes for a pretty peaceful society. It’s an odd balance between maintaining pride in yourself and trying equally hard not to destroy anyone else’s. Starkly different from our fend-for-yourself society! It’s fun to see how saving face plays such a huge yet subtle role in everyday life here. It’s also wildly confusing.     

Going out at night has also been something of a foreign experience. In most other countries, people tend to interact more in these situations, but the Thais very much keep to themselves. And by themselves I don’t necessarily mean their friend group, I mean they tend to sit in silence either doing nothing or on sort of electronic device. At one of our favorite bars, it’s not uncommon for people to be taking naps on the thai dining mats or just lazing around in big groups texting. Certainly a different sort of student life than I’m used to, but we obviously have yet to explore all the facets of it. So far it’s really difficult to make friends because while Thais are smiley and friendly, it’s not easy to break through that barrier of politeness into the actual friend zone. Unlike India, where people are constantly coming up to you and asking all about your life and what you’re doing that night, a Thai coming up and asking you anything at all would be absurd and generally sketchy.

In exciting news, our friend Jenna just arrived in Chiang Mai! For those of you who haven’t heard the story, basically several coincidences happened. After Ariel and I decided to move to Thailand to teach English, we found out that my roommate in India, Jenna, was planning to do the exact same thing. We ended up picking the same city as well (unless Jenna decides to leave, but seems like she’s loving it already!). My other roommate, Alex, happened to be going back to southeast asia and will be in Thailand to visit us in a couple weeks. So, a year later, we all independently chose to be in Chiang Mai all at the same time. Crazy. I’m so excited to see them and have a little reunion!