คำอำลา

The final goodbye

The term ended in the blink of an eye, one minute I was dusting off my school shirt for a new year and the next my kids were walking the halls as Kindergarten graduates.  What happened, did I just wake from a coma?? 

I had been preparing myself for this moment for a while.  Although I still have no idea what the next chapter is going to be I felt ready to leave Nakhon Sawan and return home to see my family and friends back in Cork, a place that now only exists in my memory and on Skype.  But, no matter how much organisation I did, nothing could prepare me for the final goodbye, and I didn’t have any expectation of the amount of emotion I felt for these little people, who aren’t my family, who won’t remember me, but still played such a huge part of my life over the past eighteen months. 

The final month of school was packed solid with events.  The school celebrated it’s tenth anniversary and invited some local monks to bless the students and staff.  I accompanied my students on their school daytrips where we boarded the party bus pumping out dance tunes, I’m not sure if it was the accelorator or the dancing students that pushed the bus down the highway.  My students chattered in English as we marvelled at exotic birds at Chainat Bird Park and the massive tigers at Bung Chawak Zoo.  We pretended to be robots and sang our favourite songs over ice cream breaks.  We celebrated Yuwapat Day, an annual jubilee when the school exhibits crafts and performances created by the students over the school year, a bittersweet reminder of all we’d been through together. 

Finally the school term closed with the graduation ceremony for the K3 students, who are off to ‘big school’  in May.  This was also my own final day at Yuwapat.  I remembered the emotional send off the previous year, and dreaded the emotion I was feeling personally.  I got myself ready on the final morning of school, and took very great care in getting my ‘teacher face’ in place.  Regardless of my own departure and my own emotion, I was there to support my little ones, who were starting to feel the enormity of their very first crossroads.  We had been prepping for weeks on the big changes ahead, and how exciting they’d be, and how it was ok to be sad aswell.  We had it down, my babies would be ok.  Then I saw the tears, the floods of tears, here we go...!  I hugged them and gave them the usual pep talk, reminding them of all the great things about big school that we’d talked about before sending them off to their mammies in time for me to realign my ‘teacher face’ and head out to the crowd again.  They eventually filtered off, heading home, and away from me.  I returned to my classrooms to take down my teaching aids, and cleaned out my desk.  Once the kids were gone it felt like I was getting ready for a new beginning again.  Until the principal popped his head into the office...

I was one of three members of the foreign language staff to leave, aswell as two members of the Thai staff.  The Principal requested our attendance outside for a moment, to say goodbye.  The staff formed a circle around us and one by one gave us a hug.  The tears came like waterfalls.  The Thais do like emotional moments, whereas I, being a grand sturdy Irish girl, prefer to bury it down deep, away from public view, and maybe cry into a tub of ice cream later.  Needless to say I’ve piled on the pounds and Thai women are tiny, go figure.  It turned out to be a really lovely one to one goodbye with each the staff I’ve worked with over the eighteen months I spent at Yuwapat.  I got my chance to thank those who helped me when I was fresh out of my TEFL course without an ounce of teaching experience, those who translated parents’ comments on the report cards I sent home, and those who were as patient as saints when I screwed up my class schedule and didn’t turn up for class (this happened right up to the end, thank you Tc Kung for your endless patience!)  I got to thank the lady who cleaned up all my crap after I’d had crazy craft lessons where my monsters flung glue and paper all over the place, and the ladies who fed me every day.  I was so sad to say goodbye and I feared that my next school may not offer the same familial environment.  I’ve had a lot of frustrating moments trying to understand the Thai way, or as I heard it once, “the Thai way or the highway, baby”, but what I already remember most prominently about my experience at Yuwapat is the laughter in the hallways, the kind smiles from colleagues, and the constant offer of questionable snack foods, ie cockroaches were on offer one day but I kindly declined for I have a tub of ice cream in the freezer that I must cry into.

I recently read an online article written by an Australian guy who had spent six months in Thailand.  On his departure he writes about the things he will miss most about the country.  I read this list with a lump in my throat as it was very close to my own.  I’ll miss the jumpy little geckos who kindly eat the mosquitoes who unkindly eat me, the refreshing and cheap smoothies that come with a free Thai lesson courtesy of ‘Smoothie Guy’, the paradise islands a bus ride away, the beautiful hot hot sun, the ease with which I can get shit done minus red tape or queues, and the greetings of “where you go?” followed by unrequested directions without ulterior motives.  I could go on.

Goodnight Thailand, you are a dream that I had the privilege to make my reality.

 http://whatsdavedoing.com/11-things-miss-most-thailand/

https://www.facebook.com/yuwapatkindergarten

Photos: Sinéad Millea.

A weekend in ruins

Sukhothai National Park

Following my trip to Bali and Gili Trewangan the rest of 2014 filtered away gracefully.  I bid it farewell with a pot luck Christmas dinner on the porch with the rest of the teachers.  We donned our Santa hats, sang Christmas songs and served roast turkey in the 25 degree heat, and that was cold season.  I’m already nervous of the Irish weather, which I’m due to return to.  I had just enough time to digest the banquet before embarking on a short jaunt to Koh Tao for some much needed rest in the sunshine.  I was beginning to feel the urgency of my looming departure and decided a long weekend was better spent on the beach, despite the back breaking long journey.  A new year was once again rung in by the ocean, whilst floating a lantern that held my hopes for another incredible year ahead.  

Back in Nakhon Sawan the end of term was just around the corner and so was my big goodbye.  I soaked up as much time with the munchkins as I could, and could finally see the fruits of my labour as they excitedly formed sentences.  There were days when my lesson plan went out the window in favour of the conversations that organically flowed through the classroom.  Mind you, these are 5 and 6 year olds so the convos were frequently about Elsa, robots, and sharks.  One of my younger students once told me that he goes to school on a big brown dinosaur with red eyes.  I’m not sure where he parks it, but it might explain the delirious expression on the security guard’s face.

Yet again there was a long weekend to celebrate a Buddhist holiday, so I packed a bag and headed for Sukhothai, north of Thailand.  I’d been wanting to visit for a few months, but typically I keep the closest places til last as they’re “only up the road and I can go anytime”, but this blasé attitude usually results in my missing out on what’s on my doorstep.  Not this time, I headed for the bus station the evening before to check the bus times and returned bright and early the next day only to be told that the next bus was in 90 minutes.  This is a regular occurrence.  With the language barrier it’s difficult to explain the intricacies of any situation so a foreigner simply gets told “mai mee” (don’t have).  This can be frustrating when you’ve heard conflicting information or you can see what it is you want right there.  There may be some valid reason why it isn’t available, but when the person you’re speaking with has limited or no English you simply hear ‘don’t have’.  My advice in this case is to take a seat and wait.  This is one of those situations where the mantra I’ve adopted from Thailand comes in handy, “mai bpen rai”*.  Anyway, I got there and some hours later I was alighting and being shouted at by Tuk Tuk drivers.  I found a Sorngthaew that doesn’t rip off tourists and pretty soon I was bound for my guesthouse.  I chose the new city as I thought it would have the better choices of guesthouse and eateries, being “new”.  The new part of the city seemed quite large and with only two days and a scrambled brain I did not bother venturing further than my street, except to catch the bus to the old city.  The bus between the old and new Sukhothai is a painted wooden trailer containing long benches, like in a Sorngthaew, with a truck front, pretty cool and very cheap.  It stops just outside the park, where you purchase a ticket.  

The last bus back is 5pm and, as I was budgeting, a Tuk Tuk at tourist prices was out of the question so I was already too late to see any of the ruins.  I sauntered around, taking in bike hire prices and breakfast spots and jumped back on my wooden chariot for some dinner.  I found a cosy little restaurant on my street where I ordered steak and red wine and nestled in to read my book.  I was at a pretty riveting plot twist which just kept getting more and more exciting, so I ordered a second glass, and a third glass, until the words blurred and I had to take myself off to bed.  Goodnight Nana…

I woke with a thumping headache, a queasy feeling, and the guilt of threatening to ruin my short trip.  I wasn’t having any of this bad behaviour, I was going to get up and do what I had planned and I was going to learn my bloody lesson (I was using my ‘teacher voice’ on myself here).  I caught the bus to the old city and forced down some toast and coffee, before hiring a bicycle, so pink it looked like it was coughed up by My Little Pony, and headed for the park.  This was where the magic is, the Sukhothai National Park is filled with ancient ruins of temples and pagodas, and for the life of me I can’t differentiate between the two no matter how many people I’ve asked.  I had read on travelfish.org that there are many routes in and out of the park where beautiful views and pagodas can be found.  My crappy sense of direction ensured I only found one outside the park, however not even shite navigation can deter one from happening upon the beautiful ruins inside.  It’s an amateur photographer’s dream.  In fact most of Thailand is, one can photograph all around and appear to be super talented while the landscape and street life scenes do all the work just by being perfectly photogenic.  But I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.  The wind wisping through my hair as I glided along the pathways was a terrific hangover cure and I was myself in no time.

I finished up and handed back my girly pink bike in time to catch the last bus back to the new city.  Regretfully I looked back on the old city with the sun fading down into the horizon and dreamed of what it would be like to see it sink down behind the majestic pagodas.  I wished I had booked a place to stay here, it was closer to the beauty and the cafes had a better choice of fresh juices and ground coffee.  I guess I was being a typical tourist here, wanting western standards but as I’ve mentioned before, when you are eating Thai food all day every day it makes a nice change to have eggs and toast for brekkie whilst on vacation.  Anyway, first world problems.  All in all it was a much needed break after the craziness of Christmas, and ahead of the busy and emotional final term.  So, so, final.

*http://baanajarn.com/living-in-thailand/understanding-mai-bpen-rai/

http://www.travelfish.org/location/thailand/northern_thailand/sukhothai/sukhothai]

Photos: Sinéad Millea.

Island life

A fortnight in Bali and Gili Trawangan

Sunset on Gili Trewangan

Hello again!  So it’s felt like ages since my last holiday, but it was an incredible week to remember.  I landed safely in Bali, having spent some time previously feeling anxious at the prospect of two weeks alone in another country.  My anxiety was all in vain, what a place!  I stayed a night in a lovely little hotel in Denpasar, but little did I know that Denpasar is rather big and the hotel was not near the airport and local bus services like I had been led to believe, naughty booking.com!  Following the long taxi journey I checked in and got myself into the cute little pool pronto, not before picking up a can of Guinness in the local shop.  Oh, the excitement at seeing that golden harp!  I opened it poolside and settled in for some serious relaxation until I tasted the vile liquid, oh sweet mother of Arthur, what the hell is this??  It was awful.  Awful.  So I shook it off my taste buds and went for a dip in the pool, shaded by fruit trees.

My plan the next morning was to head on to Ubud.  I had a good feeling about Ubud and was excited about visiting.  My taxi dude recommended I steer clear of buses as the traffic in Bali is pretty heavy and the buses aren’t reliable.  Instead he dropped me off in Sanur where I could catch a shuttle bus, which was a minivan.  I had a couple of hours between buying my ticket and departing so I took a stroll along the beach.  One man, who was selling trinkets, asked if I had just arrived as I was so white.  I just nodded, neglecting to inform him I have lived in Thailand for over twelve months.  There’s not much opportunity to sunbathe in Nakhon Sawan, which is frustrating as it’s probably the sunniest and hottest place on the bleedin’ planet – sods law, eh?!  My previous holiday’s tan had long faded and I was on a mission to top it up. 

My trustee steed

The bus journey to Ubud was an eye opener for me.  Having been soaking up Thai culture and customs for just over a year I was mesmerised by the Indonesian-ness around me.  So refreshing to be amongst such a different culture, not only to my own, but to my temporarily adopted country’s.  One thing that was not so different from Thailand was the traffic.  At one stage it was so dense that motorcyclists took to mounting the pavement to get past.  I’m not sure that would be acceptable even in NS and anything goes there!  I arrived in Ubud in the afternoon heat and walked to a hotel at the top of the eponymous Monkey Forest Road.  Most of the accommodation was located in traditional Balinese compounds, and my hotel was one of these.  Tucked away on a little lane lined with a bustling market, my hotel was through a doorway and nestled in a beautiful traditional compound, with garden and pool.  I took one look at my room and noticed a bathtub in the bathroom, an actual bathtub, for actual baths!  I didn’t even haggle on the rate, just checked in and filled up that tub.  In NS baths are practically non existent, and how I miss them so!  After a relaxing soak and a beer I ventured out for some dinner.  I found a restaurant with sufficient lighting for a solo traveller to read happily and ordered from the set menu.  Four courses later, I rolled out of the restaurant and back up the tiny street to my hotel.  The little cobbled streets of Ubud reminded me of small villages in the UK, those secret places you find and want to keep to yourself, except that many more people know of my secret so the streets were pretty busy with tourists, although it managed to retain it’s intimate ambiance nicely.  Despite the eye bleeding rate of my room (triple what I’d pay in Thailand), I stayed three nights.  They delivered a giant pot of tea to my room each morning, how could you leave that?!

Roasting lewak coffee beans

During my stay at Ubud I booked myself on a cycling tour, which took me by van upland, kitted me out with a mountain bike and helmet, and guided me back downhill through villages and paddy fields.  We stopped off to check out the process of making Lewak coffee, a rather extraordinary product which involves a cat like creature called a lewak eating coffee beans and crapping them out, only for them to be cleaned, roasted and ground into coffee for human consumption.  Bonkers.  But hey, all natural products come from some strange process, right?  I mean, who was it that first suggested that we pull on a cow’s jiggly bits and drink the white liquid that comes out?  I rest my case.  Reading the information at the little café, I learned that Lewak coffee is the most expensive coffee in the world; in swanky hotels in London they charge £50 a cup for the stuff.  This place at the top of a mountain in Bali was flogging it for a fiver so I gave it a whirl.  I found it less bitter, which is something that happens to it in the animal’s digestive system, but not really worth all the hype, give me a cup of Lavazza any day.  Anyway I guess I can now say I’ve had the shittiest cup of coffee in the world.

Next stop was an unscheduled one, a wedding was taking place in a compound that our guide was familiar with, so we popped in for a visit.  Amongst the hustle and bustle of the wedding prep were ladies making offerings, banana leaves with rice and flowers, which were usually left out as a Hindu custom.  You see them strewn all over the streets of Bali.  At the other end, food was being cooked ahead of the ceremony, which was to take place within the compound.  Men and women from all over pop by to offer their help; it’s a big communal operation.  

Women preparing offerings for wedding

 After an amble through some paddy fields we ended up at the compound owned by the tour company and had some lunch and much needed hydration.  I was transported back to my hotel by van, tired and exhilarated.  Purely for medicinal purposes I booked myself in for a Balinese Boreh, a traditional body scrub and massage.  Bliss.

The next evening I decided to soak up more culture at a Balinese dance performance at the Palace.  The Legong Keraton dance, characterised by intricate finger movements, complicated footwork, and expressive gestures and facial expressions, was based on a historical romance of the 13^th Century about a Prince who abducts a Princess already betrothed to the Crown Prince.  The Prince meets a raven which is a bad omen and chases it away, then goes on to battle with the Crown Prince.  No spoilers here but I guess you can figure out the ending, damn ravens. 

Another dance performed was Barong, which reminded me of the lion dance that is performed here for Chinese New Year, in which a mythical creature, played by two people in one costume, dances accompanied by a monkey character. 

The last performance was Sunda Upasunda, a dance drama about two giant kings who are granted the power never to be harmed by any weapon.  They both possessed the desire to rule the universe and conquer heaven (who doesn’t?)  In an effort to stop them, it is decided to send a goddess to seduce them, she makes them fall madly in love with her and end up battling eachother (Jeez, bros before hos, dudes!)  Anyway the two lads exhaust each other and their strength wears off, they are released from the Goddess’ spell and decide not to bother with conquering heaven.  Too tired.

A rest stop near luscious paddy fields

The next morning I caught a shuttle bus to Padangbai, a recommendation from a fellow cyclist a few days previously.  I was told of a beach called the Blue Lagoon, the name alone caught my interest and I was sold.  En route I saw a peculiar sight, a lady hoiked up her skirt and went to the toilet, right on the footpath.  Anything goes.  I arrived at Padangbai and left the other tourists wait at the port for the next boat to the neighbouring islands while I sought some accommodation for the night.  I found a modest little place with a decent rate and got my bag packed and ready for some beach action.  On the way out I found an English language magazine, jackpot!  These little charms are rarer than bathtubs in NS.  If I had ten baht for each time I was fooled by English language cover lines on glossy magazines at the newsagent here I’d be a rich lady.  I see the glorious gloss, the English cover lines, and my heart beats twice as fast as I make a beeline to the newsstand, only to find the feature copy is in Thai.  Oh, the disappointment, heartbreaking!  I packed that bad boy into my bag and skipped off for some serious sunbathing, except that wasn’t to be so easy.  A sweet but insatiable lady kept visiting my sunny sanctuary in a bid to sell me one of her sarongs.  Admittedly I did want to buy a nice sarong, but I was wearing my poker face, a) to get a good price when I do decide to part with my Rupiah and b) to have some bloody peace and quiet on the beach.  She wasn’t having it, I found myself in a sunny stand off.  With a perpetual friendly smile on my face I assertively insisted I have some time alone to read.  She shook my hand and assertively insisted I buy a sarong.  Our negotiation ended with me clearly stating that, “I promise to LOOK, I won’t promise to buy, ok?  OK? OH-KAAAY?”  She gave me a gift because I was a good person *ohgodjustgoaway* and despite my reluctance to accept for fear of being embroiled in some sort of financial agreement, I took the necklace and bid her good luck.  She came back after about ten pages and I bought a feckin’ sarong.  To be fair to her, it’s a lovely one and I did want to buy eventually.  I’d have appreciated that decision to have been made entirely by myself however.  I haggled her down quite a bit, I call that karma, and whilst paying I noticed about ten necklaces around her neck, all identical to the one she had given me as a gift for good luck and for being such a good person an’all.

That evening I decided to take myself out on a date.  I dressed in a lovely lacy top and noticed a blinding glow radiating from my back.  After closer inspection I discovered the reddest patch of sunburn I had ever seen this side of the equator.  The worse predicament for a solo traveller is burnedbackitis.  Why hasn’t there been a resolution to this problem?  I found that if I buy clear sunscreen spray I can just about get by. When this isn’t available it’s a one way ticket to Burnsville for the parts I can’t reach.  I quickly altered my wardrobe choice for the evening and took a wander to The Topi Inn where, earlier, I’d enjoyed my magazine with the most delicious cappuccino.  My hunch on this place was spot on, I devoured a scrumptious grilled marlin and the lovely acoustic music tempted me into three glasses of wine.  I hazily walked along the seafront to my hotel and slept soundly. 

Delicious drum(mer)s

Next morning I woke to a breakfast of banana pancake and looked into the boats heading towards the Gili Islands.  Having read up on the three island sisters I settled on Gili Trawangan, the big sister.  I sought out a place called ‘Why Not’, as recommended by some friends who had stayed there a month previous, and met the owner, Paul, who was on his way to mosque.  I left my bag and agreed to come back to check in after lunch.  The island is predominantly Muslim and my bungalow was just behind the mosque so the call to prayer became a regular soundtrack to my day.  I found the calm tones over the tannoy immediately cathartic.  The mosque is the centre of this tiny island for the community, where public notices are announced along with the call to prayer.  Despite being non-practising, I find all places of worship to be calm and comforting.  They’re all essentially places where communities come together.  One of my favourite places here in NS is the temple at the top of the hill, where I can climb the stairs to the very top and look over the city, it’s one of the rare places one can spend time alone and ponder things like, “I can’t believe it’s not butter”, and other such quandaries.

Anyway, I digress…

Your carriage awaits..

The beach was a stone’s throw from where I was staying and the sea was full to the brim with tropical fish, coral and sea turtles, so I hired a snorkel and went off in search of Nemo.  I managed to spot a sea turtle swimming through the rays of light plunging through the water.  That evening I pedalled along on my hired bicycle to watch the sunset on the west cost of the island. I nestled myself into a soft beanbag chair and ordered a glass of wine at The Exile Bar while the gentle beat of drums serenaded the sun down to dissolve into the sea, a nightly ritual that continued throughout my stay on the island.  I’m not sure how I will ever watch the sun set again without the rhythmic, hypnotic beat of drums.

A mere 15 minutes of cycling gets you to the opposite side of the tiny island, where motorised vehicles are prohibited.  If it’s too hot to walk, your options are bicycle or horse and cart, which are festooned with flowers, ribbons and bells that can be heard all over the island.  It sounds like Santa’s sleigh parading around a paradise island; perhaps it’s where the big man himself spends his vacation time?

I loved Gili Trawangan so much that I decided to spend a week of my fortnight-long vacation there, pedalling from beach to beach, sunbathing and sipping fresh coconut water by day and watching the sun set to a drum beat by night.  I even woke one morning before dawn to watch the sun rise on the beach; I guess I should see a whole day of the sun’s action through, what with being a bona fide sun worshipper now.

One hour after bulu babi

My love for GT was unrequited, I’m disappointed to say.  Between stings from teeny tiny jellyfish to coral scrapes on my feet to a run in with a sea urchin, I wasn’t feeling the love at all.  The latter experience was pretty exciting though, I was lolloping around in the shallow water when something brushed my leg, jabbing it with several long needles.  I raised my leg to find long spikes poking out of my ankle and the skin quickly turning black right before my eyes.  I calmly walked over to a lady who was massaging tourists on the beach and asked if she recognised what it was.  She shouted, “bulu babi, bulu babi!” (sea urchin, sea urchin!) and directed me to the bar where her husband was the manager.  He promptly called me over to a hosepipe and washed the wound, and then informed me that he would have to hit it with a stone until it bled.  I was so relieved that he recognised what it was and was reassured by his calmness that I agreed to let him do whatever he wanted with the stone.  After over a year of living in Asia very little shocks me, I’m much more open to crazy suggestions of medical treatment these days.  He bashed the wound to break down the infection inside.  It started to resemble a cocked up tattoo and I fantasised about being a badass with a scar and a story to tell.  Over time the scar started to fade and the next day it was just a series of red dots.  There goes my ‘badass’ status. 

Gado Gado and Kelepon

I rewarded myself with a massage on the beach for being such a brave soldier, and later that evening I took part in a cookery class, where I was the only student.  I was rather hoping I would be part of a merry group of trainee chefs and we’d all have a beer after, but no, it was just me, two instructors and a truck load of food.  Over the evening I had made seven dishes.  There was far too much for me to eat on my own so when the other staff of the cookery school came loitering around looking hungry I was only too delighted to share my dinner. 

My time on GT had to come to an end sometime and when it did I was suitably tanned and rested.  I headed back to the mainland and caught a shuttle bus to Jimbaran, a location chosen purely for it’s close proximity to the airport and for it’s reputation for delicious seafood (of course there’s a foodie connection, don’t you know me at all?!)  After a long journey, full of delays and traffic jams I finally arrived at my hotel in time to freshen up and go to dinner on the beach.  I found a place recommended online where I was seated in front of the ocean.  In the darkness I could only hear the waves rolling to the shore as I sipped yet more wine and dined on freshly barbequed fish, the perfect ending to the perfect trip.  I flew back to Thailand with a golden tan and a Cheshire cat smile.  Goodnight Bali, you’ve been wonderful!

Images: Sinéad Millea.

http://www.travelfish.org/region/indonesia/bali

http://www.travelfish.org/location/indonesia/west_nusa_tenggara/gili_islands/gili_trawangan

http://www.balibintangtour.com/

http://www.topiinn.nl/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Exile-Gili-Trawangan/321063671354118

Been a hiking Viking

Waterfalls, sport and Vikings

The breathtaking views from Erawan National Park

Good Lord, it’s been three months since I wrote to you last.  Where does the time go?!  I have been working away diligently.  All work and no play makes Sinead Nua a dull blogger but I managed to squeeze in some fun and games here and there so I do have a few tales for you.

We celebrated the Queen’s birthday in August and, similar to the King’s birthday which doubles up as Father’s Day, this was also a celebration of Mothers throughout Thailand.  As I mentioned before, the Thai royal family are very highly revered and celebrations held in their honour are always community involved affairs.  As usual the school put on a show in which the students and their Mums partook with a great sense of ceremony.  And, as is normal for Thai celebrations, we were granted a long weekend.  I don’t know how these Thai folks get anything done with all these holliers but I’m not one to complain.  I went back to the home of the 10 baht bar, Kanchanaburi, to resume my failed trip.  This time I was determined not to fall foul of the dreaded lurgy and I planned an excursion to Erawan Waterfall.  I, and my travelling comrades, hired motorcycles to transport ourselves through the beautiful landscape where we stopped for coffee and photographs as we pleased.  The drive was exhilarating, with the open road stretched out before us and the mountains framing our view.  It was refreshing to get out and breathe the rural air.  Living in Nakhon Sawan you feel somewhat stifled by the traffic and smells of the city and, at times, even claustrophobic at the hoards of people everywhere.  But here in the mountains it felt freeing and, for once in a long while, I could breath.

We arrived at the national park to find buses and trucks packed into the car park, and hundreds of people swarming the pathways.  We joined the long line of visitors trundling along the uphill path to make our way to the seven waterfalls that promised to wow us with their magic.  Each level was even more beautiful than the last, all very different yet each with its own draw for the crowds of bathers that relaxed in the balmy water.  One level had a smooth vertical rock that was used as a water slide, another had a lip that jutted out like a mezzanine level where people bathed and enjoyed the view of the others splashing below.  The top level was where we decided to get in the water, and after the ascent in the humidity it was a welcome sight.  We derobed and popped ourselves in the smooth water.  I had heard about fish that nibble at your skin, rather like one of those fish pedicures and thought it might be a nice beauty treatment that would leave me glowing on the drive home.  No, not at all what transpired.  I ended up being gnawed at by huge over friendly fish that left me squealing like a little girl.  Little bit embarrassing.  On the descent I encountered a makeshift ‘shop’ nestled in the trees where one could buy traditional Thai dresses.  I guess it shows business acumen, afterall there are no competitors and you never know when someone may have the hankering to buy a full trad gown on an amble in the woods.  I always kick myself for not thinking of these great ideas first.

Traditional Thai dress anyone?

With this transient lifestyle I’ve adopted there are ups, such as spontaneous trips, and there are downs, such as saying goodbye all too often.  I’m just about getting used to saying goodbye to people and understanding that friendships here are part time.  I’ve learned in the past that you keep some friendships burning via social media but most of the associations I make here will probably fizzle out after we leave.  It’s hard to know right in the moment which friendships will pass the test so all goodbyes here are hard.  I had such an experience again at the end of August when my two housemates finished their teaching contracts and left Nakhon Sawan.  It was incredibly fun living with them and seeing them leave was sad, but I am kept regularly updated with sickeningly enviable photos of their travels and it’s made me excited about my own adventures ahead.

Along with new housemates, September brought with it some refreshing wind and a chill in the air that I have not felt since Christmas when the weather went from ‘freaking hot’ to ‘balmy’.  It will never be ‘cold’ here but the rainy season is a welcome change from the searing hot season.  There were days when I was so weary from heat and sunlight that I felt no desire to do anything or be anywhere.  Spending most of my days sitting under my air conditioner, I found hot season a challenge to say the least!  Now I’m feeling lovely bustly breezes on my morning drive to work, although this is usually a sign of rain to come so the threat of being pelted by raindrops the size of golf balls always looms closely.

Our school day trips were scheduled for mid September and I was looking forward to an excursion with the little monkeys.  The theme was ‘food’ according the school syllabus so the K2s were treated to a trip to the supermarket to buy ingredients that they would whip up into pizza and the K3s had a venture to a nearby organic corn farm.  School trips are always taxing as you’re on your feet all day, hyper aware of every little munchkin’s whereabouts.  The supermarket was a particular highlight, especially in the seafood section where each of them picked up a raw shrimp and started playing with it.  I have to admit, if I ever have kids of my own I would like them to be filled with enough personality and fun to sing to a raw prawn in the middle of Makro.  The kids drew a lot of attention from fellow shoppers when they broke into the alphabet song at the tops of their voices in the cereal aisle, proud moment. 

After school trips were done, the school started buzzing with plans for the School Sports Day.  The students took part in various competitions in preparation for the big event but the main focus was to be the chants for each team.  The school was divided into four camps, the theme being ‘Clash of the Warriors’.  We had Vikings, Gladiators, Pirates and Samurai, and the kids were excited at the prospect of being kitted out in fitting costume.  Each day the kids practised their chants which comprised of English and Thai song and dance.  Teachers busily whipped up costumes, posters and props while students learned all about the warriors they were to imitate on the day.  My big creation was to be a Viking ship, that the kids were going to parade through the streets and shout their chants from.  I had it all planned out, it was going to be super cool.  Except that I hadn’t planned for the searing Thai sun to melt the glue and leave my Viking ship a floppy sorry mess.  Parts started dropping off it from the minute we set off on our parade and by the time we arrived back at the school, a mere ten minutes later, my graceful ship was nothing but a limp pile of cardboard.  I would never have succeeded at invading Dublin.  Nevertheless, the day proceeded with great energy and sportsmanship, and each team earned a deserved trophy for it’s participation.

 

We are the Viking Warriors!

At the end of September my students left for a months vacation and I prepared to begin Summer school.  The Science theme of Summer school left me blank, I quit Science the first chance I got and now, 22 years later, I am furiously searching the interweb, panicking about the prospect of teaching the blasted subject for two whole weeks.  After about a half hour on Pinterest I calmed myself and prepped for two weeks of pure playfulness, from learning about Penguins to shooting bottle rockets into the air.  I think Summer school may actually be for teachers rather than students!  We also have meeting the Pre-K kids to look forward to.  They come in during the second term to learn basic stuff like counting, the alphabet and colours, but mostly to get them acclimatised to the school environment for when they become K1s and rule the gaff.  Their first days are a blend of cuteness and hilarity. 

Of course, the most exciting time of October comes in the final fortnight when the teachers scatter to their chosen vacation spots to top up the fading tans.  My chosen destination this October is Bali, and I’m super excited to be going there finally.  It’s somewhere I had on my list since deciding to move to this part of the world.  Now it’s so close I’m a ball of nerves at the thought of going to a country where I don’t speak the language.  I know that’s a pretty crazy thing to say, since I’ve lived in Thailand for a year (yes, a whole year, my anniversary was mid September!)  but I kind of managed to be understood here and I’m apprehensive that my crazy charades may not work out in Balinese.  However I am excited that this trip will feel like a proper holiday with a flight, a currency exchange, a new language and new food, the latter being the most exciting part.  I love Thai food but, boy do I need a change!  So, I look forward to two weeks of sun, sea and stuffing my face.

On my return I go straight into term two, which is the shorter term of the school year, so my departure will be looming closer and closer.  I was due to leave at the end of the previous term but I decided to extend my contract by five months, and my original departure date has since come and gone, leaving me feeling very unprepared to leave.  I still feel very new here.  I hope that in February, homesickness will settle enough to convince me to head back.  I often feel a sense of panic at the thought of not being able to do certain things as freely as I can here, like jumping on a bus and alighting at a paradise island, picking up dinner for less than a quid, walking into a bar with a bottle of whiskey and paying only for mixers (that one’s bonkers), and other such mad things that Thailand allows, and that I have taken for granted over the past year.  I will look forward to seeing my family and friends again, of course, but the financial hardship and red tape I constantly encountered back West is something I don’t miss one bit.  I guess it’s time to start researching the plan of action for 2015!

All hail 10 baht bars...oh, and teachers.

The going's on so far...

Flippin’eck, it’s been ages.  Where does the time go?  One minute I’m donning my school shirt and prepping my first lesson of the term and the next I’m planning a mid term holiday.  They say time flies when you’re having fun and, although I’ve mostly been working, I can say that is absolutely true!  So far the school term has been buckets of fun, the little people have been keeping me on my toes and I’m pretty sure I’m losing weight from the belly laughs.  I finally feel like I’m making progress with being a teacher, I’m starting to see the benefit of my lessons on the kids.  When they repeat something they’ve learned in the playground, it feels like I’ve struck gold.  On occasion I found myself woop wooping them, much to their own confusion.  Teacher be crazy…

Wan Wai Kru floral arrangements on display at the school

This term we celebrated a special day for teachers, called Wan Wai Kru, which, as far as I understand, translates as ‘day to respect teachers’.  The kids make floral arrangements, similar to lois used during Loi Krathong, to present to their teachers in a ceremony that takes place at school.  The kids present their flowers and bow before the teachers.  I expected it to solely concentrate on the Thai staff who work tirelessly, not only teaching the kids for the majority of the school day but also writing daily reports, prepping crafts and general duties within the school.  On the day the foreign language teachers all lined up as spectators, but when our classes were rising to present their bouquets we were too called up to receive them.  At first I felt uncomfortable having the children bow before me but it was a humbling, yet special experience.  At home we don’t have an event that shows gratitude to teachers, so it was an alien concept to me to thank someone so ceremoniously for doing their job.  However, since becoming a teacher I’ve wondered what the kids I teach will take away from their kindergarten experience and I look back at mine and remember, not the details of each day but rather the feelings I felt whilst being there.  I felt safe at kindergarten, I forged my first friendships with peers, my teacher was a familiar face and I trusted her enough to leave my Mother every day.  Kindergarten was my first experience of feeling secure outside my family and my teacher played a huge part in giving me that sense of security.  So, school syllabus aside, I think a teacher plays a vital role in a child’s life.  You’ve got Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and even Grandparent’s Day, so why not ‘Teacher’s Day’?  So, I started to accept the bowing and left the school hall feeling all warm and squishy.  Then, in my afternoon lesson, still feeling the love, I got puked on.  Warm milk puke.  All over me.  Swings and roundabouts.

Finish line!

For the month of June I got stuck into a training schedule in preparation for a 10k run.  I was feeling a bit rootless and aimless, one of the side effects of living a temporary life in a foreign culture, so I signed on for the run and got my arse down to the gym.  I was on a strict diet of yoga (at which I am spectacularly rubbish, I am convinced that Thai people are mostly made of elastic and I am mostly made of concrete), swimming, walking, weight training and, of course, running.  I started out pretty awful, with my thighs screaming at me to slow the hell down.  I blame Florence and The Machine, you run to that and you’ll find yourself in Cambodia by sundown.  Not surprisingly I limped my way around Sawan Park for most of my runs.  I tried a selection of stretches I found on the internet and spent my evenings lying on my tiled floor contorted around a skipping rope.  Luckily my flatmates are imperturbable.  Anyway my regime was successful and, not only did I complete the run in a respectable time, I raised some dosh for a worthy charity and now my skirts fit better.

I was feeling elated, and excited about stuffing my face with a proper English breakfast, when disaster struck.  My ‘carb loaded’ dinner of seafood pasta from the previous night came back to haunt me and I found myself with food poisoning that floored me for the rest of my celebratory Sunday.  I tentatively ate a 7Eleven toastie on Monday afternoon and started to feel vaguely human again.  On Monday morning one of my colleagues queried if I was “mai sabai” which means unwell, and I nodded meekly.  I since learned that ‘mai sabai’ can also mean ‘hungover’ so I may have mistakenly earned a bad reputation amongst the Thai members of staff.  Moral of the story: if there’s a chance you may be allergic to anything don’t take your chances with it the night before a 10k run.  I should know this by now, but that’s another story…

Breakfast view, pretty even in the rain

On the following weekend the country celebrated Asarnha Bucha Day, which to my knowledge is the celebration of the Buddha’s first public sermon.  Thai people flock to their hometowns to visit their local temples and farangs flock to tourist destinations to take advantage of the cheap low season rates.  I ventured down to Kanchanaburi, which isn’t very far south of Nakhon Sawan, but the route is to go way south to go back north again so I spent almost 8 hours trundling along the highway with broken air con.  I arrived feeling the onset of a sinus infection (honestly, I’m like the geek we all knew at school who was constantly sick) which slashed my plans of hiking and swimming in glorious waterfalls.  I checked into my room and went foraging for food and found a cute little restaurant where I had a western meal and a glass of wine.  The waitress brought the wine down in a coffee mug and explained to me that because of the holiday it was forbidden to serve alcohol.  After my gruelling journey I almost hugged her for getting around it and I enjoyed every last sip of that wine before hitting the hay for the evening.

The next morning I woke up bright and breezy, and headed out to find a breakfast with a view and boy, did I find one!  A guesthouse on a neighbouring street had an infinity pool with a view of the River Kwai with mountains melting into the distance and free coffee!  So I settled in with my book for the morning and ordered the softest most fluffy pancakes known to man.  After hours had been whiled I wandered down the main street towards two of the big tourist attractions in Kanchanaburi, the Death Railway and the JEATH War Museum.  I had no knowledge of the impact of WW2 on this side of the world but my saunter through the museum gave me an insight into something that I think most countries at war fail to see, when you get down to basics, we’re all the same.  Whilst I pored over the personal items that belonged to the various soldiers stationed in Thailand I noticed we all have the same aspirations, fears, hopes and daily routines.  The old typewriters, shoes, bicycles, grooming equipment and kitchen utensils housed behind glass all echoed the ghosts of the people who once used them, people like you and me, and I wondered to myself, “why the hell were they all bombing the shite out of each other, weren’t they all the same?”  It seems that some things never change.

One of On's other students cooking Tom Yum

Feeling hungry and in need of a more positive life affirming experience I turned to food, naturally, and took a Thai cookery class.  I met with On at On’s Thai Isaan, a vegetarian restaurant on the River Kwai Road (Mae Nam Kwai).  I chose three dishes from her menu to learn, Pad Krapow which is a rice dish with Thai basil and anything you want to add (I like crispy pork – Pad Krapow Moo Glop), Pad Thai and Penang which is a yummy curry with coconut milk.  Once each dish was cooked I was escorted into the restaurant and invited to eat the whole thing while On prepped for the next dish.  You can imagine how I felt after the third dish.  The words ‘beached’ and ‘whale’ easily come to mind.  After my three dinners On showed me how to make an extra dish, my favourite Thai dessert, mango and coconut sticky rice.  It was like Christmas dinner, Thai style.  How I wished I’d worn elastic waisted trousers!  I rolled back to my room via a bar that was serving beer out of takeaway coffee cups, getting around the ol’ alcohol ban again, although it’s pretty obvious what’s going on when you see a bar from across the street filled with jolly people drinking out of takeaway coffee cups.  Got to love the Thai ‘let’s try it til we get told otherwise’ approach to problem solving.  In a way I think they’re rather like the Irish in that respect, many times I’ve heard at home, “Ah sher, 'tis grand, we’ll change it if someone says anything” and really meaning, ‘then we’ll change it back once they’re gone’.  From one rebel city to another.

I finished off my weekend away at a quirky little establishment that I was very excited to visit, a 10 baht bar, which was one of various stalls set up on the street comprising of a little bar packed with bottles and hugged by stools lined up along the pavement with a makeshift table on the road made of a 2x4 and some paint can stools.  Most of the drinks were 10 baht, some costing 20 or 30.  I decided to be classy and went for the mid range 20 baht whiskey and coke.  None of the cheap stuff for me, I have my standards.  They had homemade fruit flavoured mixers which were either tasty or my taste buds were numbed by the incredibly gross Blueberry flavoured shot I sampled.  Alcoholic stereotypes aside, as an Irish person, who once spent the best part of a tenner on one drink (a G&T in Dublin, never again), the chance to go to a bar and spend 46 cent per drink is an exciting prospect and I partook repeatedly throughout the evening.  On the plus side, the drinks are presumably watered down as I managed to journey back to Nakhon Sawan hangover free, or ‘sabai’ as they would say here, and with some cash still in my wallet.  

http://onsthaiissan.com/

Images: Sinéad Millea & 10k shot courtesy of Cassidi Hunkler.