A little over a week ago, I went to Laos. This, in itself, was quite exciting in the life of me. But, if only this were just a simple story of a seamless trip to a neighboring country. Only if. Alas, that never seems to be the case. Something was bound to happen.
This whole excursion started when my friend, (we'll call her "J") asked me if I wanted to go on an all expense paid trip to Laos over the weekend. Of course, I couldn't turn that down! Turns out, J has a well-endowed middle-aged Thai woman friend who likes to buy her gifts and random trinkets, take her on trips, to meals, etc. And this trip to Laos was just another one of a long stream of generous gestures J's Thai friend had proposed. And, she asked J to invite a Volunteer friend to boot. Thus emerged my opportunity to go to Laos, burden and expense free. It was great.
A couple days before the big send off to J's site and on to Laos, my computer power cord decided to die. R.I.P. And, knowing I would feel guilty or apprehensive to ask the office grounds keeper to work his 'wire-magic' on my cord (maybe risking a power outage or worse, electrocution), I decided it best to buy a new one. Now, I have an Apple MacBook which, doesn't make it impossible to exist in rural Thailand without fearing a crash with no tech support but, it's certainly tricky. One might even say difficult. This new power cord mission required careful calculations and travel timing in order to get it right. I had to find the right place, make sure they had what I needed (in adaptable form), ask for an I.O.U from my dad, and plan my travels accordingly so I could get to the Apple Store and on to J's site, as not to disrupt the voyage to Laos. Make no mistake, the power cord trip was a priority that I couldn't afford to put off while on respite to Laos. Not 3 days had passed, and I was already having computer withdrawal anxieties. Not being able to surf the Net while at work or respond to emails or do committee work, write proposals, watch movies, listen to music, or workout with dvd's. One might say, well it's a good time to relax and just 'be in the moment' which, I agree with. Sure. But, if I could take stock for a moment of all the times I've relaxed and just been in the moment while living here, I would say....I rather prefer a certain amount of computer time--not too much--it's healthy for the techno-centric American. Not that I don't enjoy it just as much as a good days work in the rice fields.
Beside the point. Where was I? So, yes. Everything was aligned. I was to leave on Thursday on a bus to Khorat--Province about 6 hours from my site via the 2nd class bus. Khorat is where we spent our days of training, round 2 and I had on good authority there was an Apple Store that had the exact merchandise that would get me up and running again. I also called the day before to confirm. The money was in the bank and I was about ready to get myself re-connected. Off I went, bright and early Thursday morning, feeling extra sprite--not only for J's site and Laos but also for the stopover mission in Khorat.
During the ride, I allowed the lull and swift jerking of the bus to rock me to sleep almost entirely the whole way to Khorat. Once at the station, I grabbed a water and hoped on a tuk-tuk to take me to the Khorat Mall straight away, where I would complete my assignment. Time was on my side as long as I got back to the bus station before 3 to catch the bus to J's site. On the way, I opted to hit up the ATM at the mall so I could make my purchase. Just then in the midst of heavy tuk-tuk exhaust and squealing tires, it dawned on me. My wallet was completely void of all my debit cards except for one which had exactly 78 Baht in it. Uh-oh. Two week before, while I was on my bike buying some vegetables from a local stand and stuffing them into my nap sack (I try to avoid plastic bags at all costs), my wallet dropped out. It took me until the next morning to realize I didn't have it. It had about 2,500 Baht in it, all my credit cards, and all my Id's. Silly me. As luck would have it, some of the kids playing it the street found it and returned it to the street vendor. I came back the next day on a whim that it would be there and sure enough, she had it. Untouched, money in tact and all. After that, I told myself I had to be more careful and decided not to carry all my cards and cash around with me. Apparently, I forgot about this incident and neglected to grab the one card I had money on.
As I peered into my wallet, I found a measly 200 Baht which meant after I had paid for another tuk-tuk ride back to the bus station, I'd have 160 Baht at the most--about 100 Baht short of the bus ticket I needed to get to J's site. In a nutshell, I was stuck. Up a river without a paddle, in a cave without a flashlight, underwater without an oxygen tank. For all the random things that have happened to me here and through life in general, I will say I have never been in a foreign country in a foreign city, running out of time to catch my way out, without enough money and....hungry. It's a pretty awful feeling. A number of things ran through my mind. Suddenly, my power cord mission seemed like a ridiculous dream. I thought about telling the bus driver at the station that I was out of money and my friend would pay for my ticket when we got to the destination. Or maybe I could ask for an advance on my living allowance from Peace Corps. Would a random Thai take pity on me. This went on for about 20 minutes while I wandered the Khorat Mall--probably looking like a lost and somewhat disheveled puppy.
In the end, it occurred to me that I could and should sell my ipod. There seemed to be no other solution that satisfied me and my current needs. So, I went to the basement where I seemed to remember a number of makeshift stands stood where you could hock anything from the shirt on your back to the watch on your wrist. But, to my bewilderment, I found nothing but legitimate shops with 'we take Visa' logos. It was eery. And just when I thought I was getting the hang of this place and all the black market ropes, they go and legitimize on me. It took me 20 more minutes and a many awkward inquiries to legit shop owners to point me in the direction where someone might dubiously buy a used item. Finally! When I got there, I was prepared to accept any price the dealer would give me as long as it wasn't outrageous. We settled on 2,000 Baht--about $60 for my $300 retail valued ipod touch. I didn't really feel that ripped off or upset other than a flinch of nostalgia for the loss of all that good music on demand. It was fine considering I got it free with my computer anyways. Actually, it was kind of liberating to free myself of a cherished possession--just to realize that all it is is stuff, material stuff. It shouldn't make or break your life. But, it does help to own things of value every now and then. ;)
Long story short, I got the money I needed, grabbed some spring rolls, climbed on the bus, and got the heck out of dodge. It wasn't until 5 days later when J and I were in Bangkok that I finally got my power cord.
What did I learn from all this? Was it really all that funny? Am I just a bit wiser because of it? Maybe. Hopefully. I'm a work in progress!
Coming up next: A Day in Our LIves--Trip to Laos
Friday, July 30, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
My Thai Grandparents
Also my neighbors, my friends
Whenever I come back to the village from a long or even short day trip, the first thing I usually do is go see my Khun Yie and Khun Dta. Visiting their house reminds me I am home again and the places and faces that are familiar most to me, welcome me back with open arms and fresh stories of the excitement I missed while I was gone. They give me a sense of belonging and calm.
Note: Khun is a formal title use for anyone (ie: Miss, Mrs., Mr. Sir, Ma’am) Yie in Thai is simply grandmother and it is an unspecified title given to women of a certain age, of a certain status—usually someone who is indeed a grandmother. The same goes for men of a certain age with the title Dta. Thus, it is not unusual for every older man and woman (usually 45-50+) to be addressed as Yie and Dta. Which, is why I usually differentiate my Yie & Dta with their first names attached.
Ever since I moved to this residential enclave of a Northeastern Thailand farming community, Khun Dta and Khun Yie have been more than neighbors. In every circumstance and every sense of the word ‘hospitable’, they have gone above and beyond the call of duty to make me feel welcomed, a part of the community and perhaps most importantly, loved unequivocally—just as I am. Not since I was a 9 years old and my maternal grandmother was still in good health, have I really had a relationship like this with two people capable of projecting a certain mixture of security, wisdom, and patience—the kinds of which only come with age. Some may think it’s unusual that my adopted Thai grandparents are both younger than my parents by about 10 years each but, my relation to them is so natural that I often forget their age. Even though, they’re not grandparents in reality and they have two grown daughters of their own who are only a few years older than me, they way we relate is distinct from that of a parent-child relationship.
One of the many ways we connect on a familial level is through the art of cooking and eating. I call it an art in this sense because we are all very advanced in both. Khun Yie has taught me a bit of Thai cooking here and there throughout the last year and ½--much like my maternal grandmother taught me when I was younger. And I have taught her some of what I know and make-up about cooking (not so much American-style but my style). Almost every night, we gather for either a famine or a feast but, just the same, we experience the meal together—sometimes we’ll have 4 dishes of rich Thai curries, omelet, fresh vegetables, and chili sauce while other times, we’ll just crack open a can of “Blaa Gra Pong” (Mackeral in tomato sauce) and smear it over our rice when we’re low on ingredients or too tired to cook. Whenever there’s a celebration or either party comes into a kind of sweet, delicious treat, the protocol is always to share and enjoy together.
Each time I have had a quandary, whether it be termites or headaches, my notoriously crazy-talking neighbor to the rear or the need for a hammer, my Thai grandparents have always risen to the occasion. Miniature crisis after another are adverted thanks to their good-natured disperses of wisdom.
Like any grandparents, they spoil me. When Yie makes a big batch of Pad Thai, she always brings me a steaming bowl full. Abundant fruit during the mango season followed by rambutan season, followed watermelon season surely guarantees we relish in the bounty together and I always get a bag full of whatever there’s a surplus of. When I’m sick, almost even beforehand, my Yie can feel it like a sixth sense and she’s there knocking on my door, handing me a bowl of rice porridge and telling me to rest up and drink hot water. Likewise, I spoil them. Almost every time I go somewhere, I bring them back something. Mostly it’s sweets and delicacies found only in certain places—like both times I’ve been to Rayong, I brought back a huge bag of dried squid that we fried up and ate for breakfast and dinner until the bag was empty. Out in the fields, Yie sports a sun hat with a flower pattern that I got her on a trip to the market at the Cambodian border.
Sometimes when my neighbor to the rear is being extra noisy, I roll over to Yie’s and sheepishly ask if I can crash on her floor. Usually, she’s got the mattress already rolled out and waiting for me. That’s just how it goes with us. For the most part, we get each other in the only way a grandchild and grandparent can.
Without them, my experience wouldn’t be the same. They make it a little easier to get through the day, to come back to site, to feel at ease in a foreign land. And, maybe it’s also just the way I interact in my current surroundings and how they react to me but, for the most part, it’s pure harmony. Often my neighbor says to me.... “You’re not like other farangs... it’s odd... but, I think you were Thai in another life...” I guess that would explain a lot of things; namely, how I came to have a wonderful set of Thai grandparents!
"Hank" Dta's Best Friend
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