E-mail # 2: Ding Dong Shorter (I think) notes from Thailand
I must begin by apologizing for sending the last e-mail under the theme of “bababobo”. Last weekend I went with Kelly’s host family to visit their friends in the mountains, as we were enjoying a meal somewhere between lunch and dinner, Kelly’s host mom expressed a desire to kill, fry, and eat the kitten we were playing with (rabies be damned, it was too cute). I looked at her with a shocked expression and uttered the first thing that came to my mind, “bababobo”. The table erupted in laughter, but I was later told that bababobo is a rather crude word and the more polite version is-get this- “ding dong”. This embarrassing amendment is typical of the challenges that face us in learning to speak Thai.
I thought that by the second e-mail I would be through musing about culture shock. I was wrong, so here’s a little more. “Gin cow” is a phrase that makes any red-blooded farang (foreigner) quake in their sandals after a month in Thailand. It literally means, “eat rice” but since rice is served with EVERYTHING, it is used to say “come eat now,” “how was your day,” “you look fat, come eat some more,” and numerous other things. Ajaan Sasitorn referred to the phrase as a “warm welcome”, but to my fellow American students who have to rely on medication to poop normally, the thought of eating more rice is terrifying.
My friends and I have devised a theory about Thai food that goes like this: Centuries ago Thai people were involved in some catastrophic event probably having to do with a wild elephant that rendered their external nerves and taste buds nearly dead. Since then, they have devised a system of consuming things that are “flavor blasted” in a way that goldfish can never be. When they cannot choose between making something uber sweet, cringingly sour, or seriously spicy, they try all three. I bought some dried tamarind that is 34% sugar, 10% salt, and 6% chili. If you’re counting, that leaves only 50% for the actual fruit. Ding dong.
I reaffirmed this theory about the Thai lack of external nerves on a trip this weekend to the hot springs. And by hot springs, I mean geysers. The main attraction was that you could hard-boil an egg in the water. This did not stop my Thai family from sitting with their feet calf-deep in the steaming water. As I argued with my own burning feet about the merits of fitting in, I was reminded of the dinner my family made me for my birthday. It was a traditional Thai barbeque, which involves sitting on a straw mat around a big basin with fire in it and a metal pan on top. The middle section of the pan serves as the grill where we place pork and the external ring is full of hot water where we cook lettuce and herbs to accompany the meat. The system works great except that the middle section is shaped like a dome and pork often falls into the water. This is what my feet felt like at the hot springs. Ding dong.
This brings me to the topic of recent relations with my host family. This is my last day with them and I’m still figuring out how to balance being simultaneously independent and babysat. There are times when they drive me crazy, like when we went to a sacred Buddhist cave that was simply stunning and all I wanted to do was slowly saunter through it in silence, but my host sisters were hell-bent on preventing this. When I purposefully lagged behind they called my name incessantly, telling me to come (as if I didn’t know) and that I was slow (which was precisely what I was aiming for in a spiritual experience). I tried to explain this to them but they would only hound me with increasing energy until I finally plugged my own ears. When we got out of the caves I saw another path that seemed to head up the mountain and after much negotiation they agreed to let me go if my friend Julie would accompany me. I needed some independence so badly that I dragged poor Julie half-way up the mountain. She finally sat down to rest and told me to go on, so I did, I ran. After about ten minutes I came across a rocky section that I realized with glee led to the top of the mountain. The sight from the top literally took my breath away. There was a perfect 360-degree view of the surrounding fields and mountains, decorated with a stunning, rugged little Buddhist shrine and large ceremonial bells. Needless to say, it was one of the most stunningly beautiful things I have ever seen and my annoyance melted faster than Thai ice cream.
Speaking of food, I also made them banana chocolate chip pancakes, in an episode of Thai cooking that turned out to be semi-disastrous. The first challenge was finding milk that was not condensed (which Thais adore) and was refrigerated (which they don’t think is necessary). Then there was the challenge of cooking in the infested outdoor kitchen in a country that apparently hasn’t discovered the wonders of non-stick pans and is used to frying things under two inches of oil. Being a pancake pro, I finally worked out the kinks and was able to produce remarkably good pancakes over a hot plate in a pot with a rice spoon as a flipper. The kicker was that only three of my eight family members even tried them. They also wouldn’t try the peanut butter I bought. To think that after all of the mystery-meat soup (it is probably pork, when in doubt we have learned to assume pork) and intestine-filled pastries I pretended to enjoy for them, they were squirmy about peanut butter! Though they confuse the heck out of me, I am happy to see them everyday and will miss them.
The second half of the foundations course has been overly-structured, but awesome. Highlights include visiting a leper colony (no, its not contagious), chatting with Burmese activists and visiting a school for illegal Burmese immigrants where the students overwhelmed us with their stories of the power of hope and music, as well as their enthusiasm for human rights. We also went on a river cruise and saw land encroachment first hand as we waved to people in a local Wawawee coffee shop. Last Friday we spent all day hiking in a national park to check out the illegal encroachment of the night safari on the “conserved” land. When the other group of students got lost in the Jungle, my group got to spend the majority of the day frolicking in (ie: swimming, climbing, playing Frisbee in, and jumping off of) waterfalls and natural (and mildly painful) waterslides. My favorite lecture was when Ajaan Mark bellowed “The earth is dying, students, move to the mountains!” with the rain pouring down on our outdoor lecture room before he played the less than optimistic global warming movie Six Degrees. Needless to say, being here is completely revitalizing my activism and sense of purpose.
This week we finished off our first course in marathon style. On Wednesday we donned traditional Lanna (see: sparkles + lisa frank + steroids) attire for a goodbye Lanna feast with the host families. We had to give a speech in Thai and dance the hokey pokey and Macarena (we transmit the best of American culture). Thursday we had a test in Thai class that left me feeling oddly accomplished. It seems that I can somehow read and pronounce Thai with relative accuracy. Friday we had to give and endure mildly painful oral presentations for our foundations class. And today we move into the dorms (see par-tay!). I’m looking forward to this new chapter, especially being able to choose my own food, come home at my leisure, walk instead of spend three hours a day commuting, and live downtown with my friends. Amidst this chaos, I’ve also been thinking a lot about home and all of you. It is bizarre being so far detached from what I consider normal. If you get a chance I would love to hear updates on life in America. The students here leech onto any news from the states we can get, and it sounds rather ding dong right now. So keep in touch, I miss you all!
Lots of love,
Jenna
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