Lads, it’s been hectic.
I had forgotten how mentally arduous it can be for the new girl, going
from autopilot back in Bristol to having to think about absolutely every move I
make here – lesson planning added to route planning just to get to the shopping
centre and miming around the language barrier every time I want to order
dinner. It’s exhausting…yet
thrilling. Although, I’ve experienced so
many ‘dumbass moments’ I’ve lost count, notably getting lost on a Songthaew…again. I went off for a solo expedition to the Big
C, feeling brave now you see with my one-week Thai experience under my
belt. I thought I had it down this time,
but yet I still found myself pootling along an unfamiliar part of town. On the plus side, life looked pretty exciting
along the river at dusk, the streetfood carts glowed from the light of the
shops and bars that dotted the periphery.
People buzzed about in between the wok wielding cooks by the side of the
road, and the smells of skewered meat and stir fried chillies wafted into the
songthaew, that chilli can get you right in the throat unless you’re
careful! I’m hoping to build my
tolerance of chillies whilst I’m here, they like it burning hot here so I
should get in some practise for sure, if the aroma is anything to go by.
Anyway, there I go talking about food again, let’s get back
on track. So I miss my stop on the
songthaew and the driver’s getting a little curious as to whether the bleedin’
farang in the back has any clue of where she is. He stopped the vehicle and spoke to me in Thai. Now, I don’t yet speak Thai so I had to
hazard a guess that he said something along the lines of, “C’mere burd, what’s
the story like? Are ya getting’ off or
wha’?” I answered in basic English and
confused facial expressions, seems I’m becoming fluent in those. The driver got out and went to find someone to
play the game of ‘Find That Farang’. I
demonstrated my streak of independence with a flash of the Google map I had
pulled up on my phone and explained where I wanted to go by pointing and
repeating the road name my apartment is on.
I realised later that a) I was pointing to the wrong street on the map
and b) Thai people (or at least those in NS) don’t use maps and therefore would
most probably be confused at having one shoved in their faces. I could have been pointing at a map of Mars
for all anyone knew, even my body language is failing me now. I have got to get a move on and learn some
Thai! I finally made it home following a
conference between about five people manning food carts and other songthaew
drivers who pulled over and waited with me on the road until my connecting chariot arrived. Terribly polite and
helpful, but also mortifying to someone who is usually well equipped (with
legible maps) for navigation.
My first lesson was looming so I went home and prepped
myself for my grand debut as an ESL teacher.
I was to be observed whilst teaching the littlest of the school’s tots,
the K1 students. The teachers I remember
most fondly from my early schooling had tidy hair, smelled nice and smiled a
lot, so these were the things I made sure to have down to a T. Equally as important was my lesson plan,
packed with games, rhymes, questions, flashcards and props. This was going to be my visa into
‘Teacherland’ and I was extremely hopeful that these particular immigration
officers were going to be welcoming.
Thankfully, the kids co-operated with the newbie. I’m guessing it’s after puberty that they
develop the ability to smell fear and the inclination to take advantage of
it. Luckily for me, they were wonderful
and I had a fantastic first experience.
I spent the week delivering the lessons to the K1s and
helping their teacher prep the boys in the class for their 15 minutes of fame
on the ‘Yuwapat’s Got Talent’ stage. They
were to perform a fully choreographed rendition of 'The Wheels on the Bus', one
of the finer nursery rhymes I think you'll find, a post modern observation of
public transport. On the day they were, of course, hilarious. One
just stood with his arms by his side and stared at the audience of teachers and
parents wielding iPads. The others jumped up and down doing the dance all
out of sync. They were flawless in the classroom rehearsal though,
flawless. You just can't get the talent these days.
Friday night arrived with an insatiable thirst for a
celebratory beer, just the one of course.
I went for several (whoops) bottles of ‘Leo’ and some delicious plates
of Thai food with some colleagues and met a few more new faces. That ‘one beer’ ended at 1am with me scaling
the stairs of my apartment building.
They switch the elevator off at midnight, which is great during the week
when I’d rather not hear the incessant ‘DING!’ of the opening doors, but at the
weekend that would be the sweetest sound if it meant I could soar up the six
flights rather than crawl up in a beery haze.
Saturday morning brought with it a searing heat, there goes my plan to
visit Khao Woranat Banphot, an ancient Buddhist temple located at the top of a
hill. Only accessible by a steep winding
road or 450 steps this temple houses a replica of the Buddha’s footprint and a
pagoda encasing a relic of the Buddha dating back to the Sukhothai period. The Sukhothai Kingdom existed from 1238 until 1438 and
you can read more about it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sukhothai_Kingdom.
Instead of being cultural I decided to go for an iced coffee
(didn’t take long to convert me, huh?!) at a nearby bakery that I had found on
Johnny Interweb. The Thongbai Bakery
served me a cheesy, hammy, eggy, toasty thing and it was delicious. A lovely lazy Saturday morning breakfast is a ritual I
have brought with me across the continents, it’s far too enjoyable to leave
back in Europe. So I indulged further and brought my book to
another café I’d heard of through a new friend here in NS, called
Bittersweet. I had been fantasising
about their waffle with blueberry ice cream all week and, heck did it live up
to it’s reputation! I enjoyed half a book
with my double breakfast and not one side order of guilt. That’s one ritual that I’ve gladly left
behind.
Following a creative burst in a bid to brighten up my room I
went to a local karaoke bar where a new friend was celebrating his birthday in
Mariah inspired style. I turned up stone
sober to a karaoke party, waddahell was I thinking?? Despite my crippling shyness making another
appearance I had fun and realised I was surrounded by crazy fun hilarious people. Nice one, just like home. On Sunday I visited the temple finally, but
got my timing slightly skewed. I
mistakenly thought that after a rain shower it would be cool enough to take on
the 450 steps…at 14.00…again, seems I’d taken leave of my senses. I reached the summit a sweaty mess and had to
take a seat in the teeny bit of shade I could find atop Khao Kob, 185.5 metres
above sea level. Once I’d mopped my brow
(and wrung out my sleeves) I had a little wander about and marvelled at the
spectacular views of Nakhon Sawan, which now looked like a teeny model village
from the top of the mountain. There was
a man on a microphone speaking in Thai, the only words I could fathom were
“Nakhon Sawan” so, call me Sherlock Holmes, I reckon he was talking about the
temple’s presence in the city.
Sitting next to him was a Buddhist monk in his orange robe. A slight panic came over me. I had read online and in guidebooks about the etiquette surrounding Buddhist monks and that a monk should not be touched by a woman, although in my blind panic and moment of dehydration having sweated most of my bodily fluid out clambering up the steps I had forgotten the detail and just completely avoided the monk altogether, averting my eyes for fear of causing some unknown insult to the poor chap, so I ended up standing at the top of 450 steps, sweat dripping off me, darting my eyes to the walls of the temple while a dude with a microphone spoke at me in Thai. Not what I had envisioned for my first expedition to a Buddhist temple in glorious Thailand. Perhaps I’ll get a second chance, there are tonnes of temples around here and, if I’m lucky, the neighbouring monks won’t discuss the weird sweaty cross eyed farang.
On Monday morning I woke up with aching calves and made my
way to the school for my first day flying solo.
We’re in between terms here so the school is conducting ‘Summer School’
for the kids whose parents have chosen to enroll. We’re building up to Hallowe’en, a holiday
the Thai people generally don’t celebrate, so there’s a bit of a role reversal
going on at the moment whereby the kids are stunned by the teachers’ excitement
at something which seems to make no sense whatsoever. The teacher’s room is awash with
paper witches hats, hand print ghosts, pumpkin collages and the sounds of
footsteps practising the choreography being proposed to the students in the
final week. Let’s see what they make of
Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’! I’m not
sure whether they’ll be on board with the ghosts and goblins we’re pimping but
I have no doubt the 'trick or treat' party sweets will go down a storm. Kids don’t care why they’re getting sweets,
so we can have our fun and they’ll get sugar – everybody wins…except the
parents who’ll be collecting little ghouls hopped up on M&Ms come 3pm.
Monday ended with a glowing pride having survived my first
day of unescorted teaching so I heartily skipped out to the smoothie
man’s cart. I’ve told you all about this
dude before, he makes the best smoothies in Nakhon Sawan and it’s evident by
the queue lined up nightly at his cart.
A lovely refreshing end to a refreshing first day. I may have no idea what I’m doing but it
certainly beats the hell out of knowing absolutely every move I am about to
make, which is how I found myself living back in the UK. The door to uncertainty is more exciting and
liberating than I had thought. BRING IT
ON!
Images: Sinéad Millea
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