this one's for you, dad!

from: Michael Salzberg

to Anna Salzberg

date: Sun, Feb 14, 2010 at 11:46 AM

subject: blog

body: No posting on the blog in February?

(Touche. Sorry, Dad.)

I realized that after all this time, I have yet to really talk about what my life is like here. And so, here you have it: a day-in-the-life of a Fulbright ETA in Warin Chamrap, Thailand. Hold onto your keyboards.. it's pretty wild!

6 am: wake up to the sound of roosters and the vrooming of my very prompt neighbors unfathomably loud motorcycle and car.

6:05 am: put pillow over head; go back to sleep.

6:45 am: wake up, trudge downstairs to make coffee (thank you, french press!) and take freezing cold shower.

7:50 am: hear the Warin Chamrab school anthem play; realize I have been drinking coffee and perusing the internet for 45 minutes, am still in a towel, have no clean clothes and need to be at flag pole in 15 minutes.

8:05 am: stumble out the front door and to flag pole, where every Monday I am greeted by colleagues in civil servant uniforms, every Tuesday by pink shirts, every Wednesday by both staff AND students alike in boy and girl scout uniforms, every Thursday by standard school uniform and every Friday by traditional Thai dress. I, unfortunately, own practically none of these ensembles, though I have amassed a bit of a traditional Thai wardrobe.

8:45 am: begin period one. Please note: though flag pole is scheduled to end at 8:25 and class is to begin at 8:30, an adherence this official time table has yet to come to fruition. When I ask my students where they have been, their most common answer is, "Teacher! Sorry! Eat breakfast!" or, even more often, a puzzled look, because the question was not understood. This is not isolated just to 1st period; I hear this breakfast excuse all day, as my students saunter in an average of 15 minutes late. For those of you who know me and my uhh issue with timeliness, you may be thinking, "Hot damn, Anna chose the right country." You would be right.

8:45 am- 4:00 pm: I attempt to teach the English language for an average of three hours a day. Topics covered may include: clothing, emotion, Hanukkah (never got around to Christmas...), Valentine's Day, Thanksgiving, weather and seasons, music, America, yes, just in general, I talk about Amerca, telling time, shopping, counting, months, numbers, body parts, and/or descriptive words.

Students may be forced to: put on a skit, practice a dialogue, do a tongue twister (she sells seashells by the seashore), "repeat after me," "sit down please!" "just listen! no, no.. not repeat.. just listen please!", run to the board and spell/draw/look confused, decipher a language that they do not understand, give me 1 baht for coming in late, speak, speak, and "speak more loudly please!!", go "shopping" with American money I xeroxed (this may or may not be illegal?), explain to each other an activity they did not understand when their crazy American teacher explained it to them the first time and/or any combination of aforementioned activities.

And, when not teaching, I am: eating ridiculously hot som tam, lesson planning, trying not to eat all of the delicious desert-like things other teachers brought into work, drinking water, sweating, thinking about air-conditioning, trying not to pass out from heat poisoning, reading books and articles on how to teach ESL... and have I mentioned thinking about air-conditioning?

4 pm- 10 pm: Afternoons and evenings vary.... though only minimally. They are mostly filled with 1) sitting outside and reading, because my westward facing my room is approximately 40 degrees celsius; 2) watching an episode (or three.... don't judge me; I live alone in Thailand) of The Wire/Six Feet Under/Mad Men and/or Sex and the City; 3) going to P'sang's brother house for dinner, one of my most favorite things to do here, as I get to play with lots of children, drink beer on ice and attempt to practice my Thai; 4) meet Maricel for dinner in Ubon, a much needed respite that usually comes midweek; 5) go across the street to the noodle shop, alone or with Joi, where the people actually know my name AND my order (nodding head smuggly); 6) spending time with my faithful friend, the world wide web; 6) talk to all of you back in the u.s. of a (though not as much as I would like, I might add. ::hint hint::) 7) whatever combination of above activities my little heart desires.

My life, huh?! Prettty wild. There have been some awesomely hilarious and strange moments, but that's for next time. I'm thinking about going crazy and posting twice this month-- keep your fingers crossed.

Happy belated Chinese New Year/Valentine's Day/Presidents Day!

Love,

Anna

and up-country life begins

Now let me explain myself: my negligent blogging habits have roots in two semi-legitimate factors. The first is, admittedly, laziness. There is really no excuse for this one. The second is, I think, a bit more justifiable: I just do not want this blog to become an outlet for my emotional ups and downs during this adjustment period. It is in the low moments that I feel most inclined to blog, to reach out into the depths of cyberspace and connect with people who are not here, who speak English and who too will see life here through a foreigners lens. But really, writing at those times would give you an unfair picture of what my life is like here. My life here in Warinchamrap is often (very often) mind-bogglingly frustrating, isolating and difficult. But it is equally exciting, fulfilling and awe-inspiring. I am challenged everyday by one thing or another—“Oh, only 4 out of 45 students are going to show up today?” “What do you mean its 95 degrees and considered the cool season?” “ANOTHER ant infestation????”—but very rarely do I find myself wishing I was somewhere else or doing something else. I am conscious of the fact that these daily challenges are also making me braver and stronger, and a far better non-verbal communicator than I ever thought I could be.

I live in the outskirts of the town of Warinchamrap, a suburb of the somewhat sprawling city of Ubon Ratchathani, in the northeastern part of Thailand (the Isaan region). The province sits adjacent to the borders of Laos and Cambodia, making for a cultural hodgepodge of food and language; the people around me all speak Thai and Laos, cook Thai and Laos food, and are unbelievably proud of their geographical roots. “This Isaan food!” I am often told. “You find it all over Isaan, but most famous in Ubon.” My hysterical, unpredictable Thai housemate, Joi, adamantly hates any food that is not from Isaan, shaking her head with a puckered expression anytime I suggest she try the American food I bring back from Bangkok.


This pride in local heritage comes with a genuine, inherent desire to share it with anyone who is interested in learning. Fortunately for me, this learning process brings with it massive quantities of delicious food and kind, tender people. I am repeatedly awe-struck by the intrinsic generosity and thoughtfulness of the people around me, from the women in my office, to the women I talk to at flag pole, to Joi, to the shop owner down the street. Despite the fact that we often can’t communicate in full sentences, I am constantly given food, invited out to meals, on camping trips and to family events; I’ll come back from lunch to find that someone has put a cha-yenn (Thai iced tea) on my desk, or has cooked me extra food because they thought it might be something I haven’t yet tried, or has brought me bananas from the grove in their backyard because they know how much I love bananas here. And far more often than not, these gifts are not given because something is wanted or expected in return, but rather because, simply, the giver just thought I might like it. And this spirit of anonymous, selfless giving has made me want to give back to them in the same way, to pay attention to the details of their lives too.

This is not to say that things here aren't incredibly trying. Less than half of my students will show up to any given class, and about half of those will show up twenty minutes late. The level of their speaking and listening skills continues to amaze me-- it is just so low, I'm often not sure where to start. But I am learning where to start... even if it often feels like it's at a snail's pace, going five steps forward, and then three steps back. I really do love my students, though; I find their obsession with Korean pop music fascinating, their accents endearing and their kind hearts (jai dee) encouraging. The fact that I can't verbally communicate with anyone around here on a deep emotional or intellectual level has also been quite a change from my home life and my life at Kenyon, and has undoubtedly been the most difficult aspect of my experience. Guess I'm going to have to start studying Thai, eh?

So, while it has definitely been a month of ups and downs, the good news is that-- surprise!-- everything really does pass, and the ups do always seem to come. I feel truly lucky to be here, breathing in the provincial Thai air, waking up to roosters in the morning, standing in front of a classroom of giggling faces and eating spicy, pungent Isaan food every day.

Thanks for the read and I'm sorry for the novella-length post. I miss you all!!


Lots and lots of love coming your way--


Anna