Starting over

I find myself a little overwhelmed when I think about my parents moving back to the States. There are a lot of reasons for this, of course, but lately the one that is most pressing is just the thought of them having to get rid of EVERYTHING. It's hard to comprehend them starting completely, completely over. It's just another reminder of how temporary everything feels to me... How do you decide what from fifteen years to keep? Or rather, how do you let go of everything you can't take with you? That is really the issue.

My parents have a fairly extensive library of books and of movies. (We were known in the community for our movie collection, actually.) They won't be able to take much with them. Of course, they have things stored in the States (in several places, actually), but the bulk of the stuff you need in everyday life will have to be bought. Saying, "oh, they're moving back to the States" is so easy. But since I've been here I've been realizing what that actually means. I asked my mom about having to rebuild her kitchen wares (we were in the kitchen at the time). She is philosophical about it. But I feel tired when I think of them having to sell EVERYTHING.

So I guess, as a nomad myself, I'm considering again how to live where you are while keeping in mind the next step... I think about moving to Europe, and my immediate second thought is, oh gosh, what will I do with my BOOKS? Furniture, eh, I don't care about that so much. But my books... They tether me to earth. This is comforting as well as frustrating.

Into the Wardrobe

I started reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe for the first time in I don't even know how long. Part of me was kind of afraid to reread it; so often books that mean a lot during childhood don't stand up to time. But I have been enjoying Lion so far though. It feels extremely comfortable. I could probably quote large passages verbatim. It is also comforting.

I first read it during fifth grade, in Texas. It was a horrible time. We had just moved from North Carolina (and it was a hard move because it was final. After Texas we were going to move abroad to an as yet unknown country indefinitely) and I was in public school for the first time since kindergarten. I'd been home-schooled for a few years also and I was frankly so terrified I couldn't even eat in the mornings before school. (I remember sitting with my parents and them coaxing me to eat just a few bites of frozen pancakes). My English teacher, Mrs. Alexander, was a wonderful woman, and very kind to me. And she assigned us to read Lion.

To say that it changed my life would not be an overstatement. I immediately fell in love with the land beyond the Wardrobe. I wanted to have adventures that meant something. And I wanted to be able to go home again afterwards. But we were in a huge, huge transition. So the Narnia books became my portable home. I read and reread them obsessively. They comforted me throughout our year in Texas and our months in the Philippines and were stabilizers during the first bewildering months in Chiang Mai.

So in some ways it seems bittersweet and fitting to reread them again now, during this last transition from Chiang Mai as home. Today we are going to see The Voyage of the Dawn Treader as (most of) the family, and this is bittersweet and fitting too. I think this is the one where Aslan tells Lucy and Edmond they can't come to Narnia anymore. (I almost typed "home" instead of Narnia and that shows you how I feel about this.)

I believe he tells them something along the lines of, "You must grow close to your own world now." And even still those are some of the saddest words I have ever read in my whole life. Now I know that underneath that grief (but what claim does that world have on me? What makes it more mine than this one?) there is also a streak of anger: why did you pull us out of that world to begin with, if it was only ever temporary? And why us? Why not some other children?

I must confess: I hate The Last Battle. Narnia isn't something that can just be ended. I want to think of it continuing, even though I can't ever go there. Something should be permanent. But even though I don't read that one I still know it happened. Jack Lewis, I have a bone to pick with you. Subtlety is a literary virtue. Your version of heaven falls a little flat. No wonder can ever match what I felt the first time I saw the lamppost with Lucy in the snow.

"Come further in," said Mr. Beaver.

I think I'll always wish I could.

Leaving takes so long

Leaving Thailand is not going to be easy. I have been preparing for this for a long time, but I just wasn't prepared for all the little reminders of The End. In the course of a normal conversation my mother will tell me who has asked for what furniture and what they will do with all the things they cannot take.

It's a part of life here. We 'claimed' furniture, vehicles, books, possessions sometimes years before the owners left. A lot of things in the expat community have long histories of being passed from family to family. It's no longer just a couch. It's a couch that has belonged to various families and now belongs to you, for the moment. And sometime, sooner or later, it will belong to someone else and your name will be part of the story. For a little while, it helps to know your things are with people who knew you and cared for you, and it is helpful to have things from your friends who have left you behind.

Since I've been on my own, I've had a hard time caring deeply about furniture; it's weird to buy things 'new,' that have no connections except for the ones I make. It is strange to own things that have had no part in the complex set of relationships that exist in a transient community.

I kind of feel that when you pass things on, you haven't completely left. You're still connected in a small way, even after your name ceases to be attached to your old things, because you remember what you left behind.

I find this strangely comforting.

Jet lag is always a shocker

I don't think I'll ever get over being surprised by jet lag.

I realized as I (finally) made myself pack that... one of the reasons I was dragging my feet is because I feel, on some level, that I'm loosing both my homes. There is a part of me that still thinks if I don't start something, it can't end. So I wished, on my way, that I could stay in an airport and never have to loose anything. I know this isn't how it works, but I wished it all the same.

In Bangkok I teared up on the shuttle taking me to the last plane. I hoped no one saw; what would they think, this farang girl crying for a country she can never have?

And then I got to CNX and saw my parents and now I'm mostly just completely glad.

I'll make the most of this last trip to my parents' Thailand home.

Home again, home again

I leave in the morning. It's a weird feeling.

Making myself pack was kind of hard (and in fact, I have not finished and I'm supposed to be leaving in like, 7 hours. Whateves, yo. I will borrow my mom's clothes and my sister's clothes.) I think it's because I don't really want this semester to end, as full of angst and woe as it has been... It means I only have one left. And that is very sad. I'm not ready. But I guess I have to be? I'm facing the next step in learning how to say goodbye I guess. It's all a process. I just like parts of this process less than others...

Here is the airport code journey:

JFK=>NRT=>BKK=>CNX

It is a comforting list. I have moved through it before. Let the airport apparatus swallow me whole.

(I guess I should also find my passport. It's on my desk somewhere with all the readings I did over the semester. Also, I realize San Fran is long ago and far away and has sort of ceased to exist since I am no longer there. But maybe I will write about it en-route. There will be time to spare.)

There is a horizon to chase

So, I still have lots to do, but wanted to take a minute to update this wee blog a bit.

The quote that is currently running through my mind is:

"I felt as if I were a stand-in, and extra, waiting for my turn to go on. I kept wanting to leap up and shout, 'Wait! Stop! Unwind! Back to the beginning..." and by the beginning, I meant last September." (Sharon Creech, Bloomability, p. 262).

Sometimes, I wish it was last September, with all this program before me. The end of this semester makes me so very, very sad. But I also feel very proud of what I have accomplished in the last year and half, and I know whatever horizon I end up chasing this time, I will do so with a much better knowledge of myself and what I have to offer. Pretty cool.

December 15 will be here far too soon...

Writing....

So, my promise to myself is that when I finish this paper, I will write a long blog post. I hope this will be a good incentive... Right now I am in what might be termed the Sloughs of Despair. (Is that from Pilgrim's Progress? It should be, if it isn't.) I keep telling myself that this is my chance to share with my committee everything I've been thinking and feeling excited about Thailand and everything... I just don't know if it's enough. I feel stupid with every word I put on the page. But I can't stop putting them there. My plan is: write the damn thing and just, turn it in. I can edit later. I need feedback. I need to be done.

And I want to buy a fun book to read on the plane. This is another goal.

Tired

So I meant to get to the hotel I'm staying at right now and catch this blog up, but I realized I have to get up at four am to catch my six am flight and so I'm going to go to sleep instead.

Highlights to act as place holders for myself when I write my Epic San Fran Post:

Angles: this city has them. (My legs are killing me.)

Ponderings on: what on earth possessed my parents to trot all four of us kids from the international airport to FIsherman's Wharf back in 96? That is quite a hike!

Speaking of Fisherman's Wharf: the seagulls are some of the most frightening things I have EVER encountered. They are also huge.

The conference: was awesome. So was my presentation. (Seriously, I actually enjoyed myself. I told one of my mentor-type peoples that I would preform my paper and by golly, I did!)

And finally:

Walking, walking, yay, going to Golden Gate Bridge! Wait, what? Is that the Pacific Ocean?!

Details to come.

I love San Fran

More to come. But I really like this city! Walking on these hills was certainly a challenge!

More Airports!

Last night I locked myself out of my apartment. This was not conducive to my plans for packing, cleaning, writing and tying up all the odds and ends that manifest themselves right before a major trip. Then I woke up and realized I was cutting things REALLY close in terms of when I was arriving at the airport. (I got to my gate 5 minutes before the stated boarding time. Not usual for me. I generally like to be at least an hour early.) The security folks were super nice, though. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met nicer.

I offered to transport the materials for my program’s grad booth at this conference. (They said they’d pay for the checked bag, so why not?!) So I’m trotting through America with my computer bag and a poster stand. People keep asking me if I’m a musician. I wish I was that cool. No, I’m just a wannabe academic making my way to a conference.

I do love airports though. I’ve never been through Atlanta before. It’s huge! For some reason I expected it to be like Raleigh’s International Airport, which is pretty small. Atlanta’s got TRAINS taking you between terminals. And nice restaurants that are fairly reasonably priced. I’d forgotten what southern accents sound like. My own sneaks back when I talk to people here, without meaning to. (I’ve kept the y’all but not the rest, generally.)

Ang Syu Kyi has apparently been released from house arrest. I must look this up when I have internet access.

There is a wireless network here in the Atlanta airport that purports to be free and official. But I’m afraid to connect in case it isn’t. (Also my Safari said the security certificate isn’t valid, and my dad has told me stories about such things.) So I’ve been kind of working on a lot of different things. My paper. My thesis. My resumes. I am so excited though that it’s hard to focus on any one thing for long. So I’m taking a few minutes to write this. And then I’m boarding soon. Next stop Phoenix!

Later:

Phoenix is awesome and has internet access. Also, it looks pretty, so I want to come back here sometime. (I had to change terminals so I consider that I have "been" here.) It's so brown! All the hills are this golden brown color.

Also, it is hot here. I was thinking about how interesting the clothes people wear are. I mean, I started in Philly, so I was wearing fall clothes (including a jacket). The lady next to me on my last flight started in Raleigh so she was wearing sort of between season clothes. And the man next to the window was wearing summer clothes because he started in Florida. I don't know why, but that just struck me as awesome, but basically, I'm in my "travel ftw!!!!" mode so just about everything strikes me that way.

Next stop, San Francisco!!! That should be interesting. I have to navigate a train with my bags and the poster holder thingy. Also, it will be dark. Epic times ahead, I'm sure.

Coming soon: Walking in San Francisco

I'm so excited. First real time on the West Coast!

(I'm not sure if that 12 hour layover that one time really counts.)

Boring

I get bored too easily. This makes writing hard.

Haha, this blog, as a result, is boring also.

I've been learning a lot about myself. I'm not quite sure I like what I'm learning. It feels like I have to decide how fully I want to participate in life. And I'm just not sure. I don't like that.

Crunch Time

It annoys me when Microsoft Word does not recognize important words like "assemblage."

Boundaries...

I need them.

I think something I realized (once more) this week is that I am just trying to do too many things. And I feel like I can't do any of them well.

I heard someone use the term "live wire" the other night. I feel kind of like a live wire; spontaneous combustion feels unavoidable.

But hopefully, it is.

Focus

I told one of my (wonderful) supervisors at work today how overwhelmed I was feeling and mentioned that I had been asked to speak to some of the undergrads about grad school. "I just don't know that I'm the person to talk to them," I told her, "Because I am a mess."

"It wouldn't be a good graduate program if it didn't make you cry," she said, handing me a tissue. "And that's what you need to tell them. You're the right person because you are real, and you aren't going to sit up there and pretend like you know everything and be all cocky."

Well, that's the truth! I feel like this semester has gone wildly different from how I expected, and how I wanted. And I have cried so, so much I annoy myself. So it's always good when someone tells me it is okay to be a mess.

I just hope I can pull it together to get everything done. I feel like there's so much I can't focus on anything. (Which may be why I am writing on this blog?) So then I feel like I can't start anything which means I continue to dither, overwhelmed. Bleh. I'm going to sit here until I have SOMETHING accomplished.

Frustrating

This writing business is extremely frustrating. I also feel like I'm too easily discouraged. I was telling DG about how I seem to fluctuate between confidence and extreme despair, and she told me, "That's grad school."

This made me feel so much better, that it is 'normal' to feel that way in this particular time and setting. Still, I wonder if I can do this... And if I can't, what else can I actually do? Sometimes, even the encouragement people offer is overwhelming, because if I fail, I also let them down. I probably should be less obsessed with failure. That's hard for me to do.

Darkness and Light

I've been thinking and breathing and dreaming about writing (possibly at the expense of actually DOING some). I was talking to a professor today and he told me that he had to learn that writing is not fun. I think this is something I have to learn as well, because writing has always been something I have enjoyed. I was one of those kids who wrote stories and poetry and thought that growing up to be a famous author was inevitable. That's partly why I majored in English undergrad. Writing and words felt natural to me. I love the term "wordsmith" because it's poetic and yet has such a practical ring to it. Now I'm faced with the reality of writing's practical side. Grad school forced me to recognize that writing is hard work. And that editing is involved.

I have a hard time with all this. I'm used to writing from a place of passion, and right now, it's hard because I have to work on two projects; one that I'm excited about, and my prospectus for my thesis, which, frankly, I find hard to even think about. I think, perhaps, another reason this writer's block is so shocking stems from the fact I have always been able to, even when I was severely depressed.

This is also something I have been thinking about recently. I think I've alluded to struggling with depression before, but not in detail; I have mixed feelings about putting this on the internet, but one thing I have concluded from the past seven years is that if nothing else, I have the power of sharing those struggles with others. There are many strands to this knot, I'm going to be selective about which threads I follow here, for various reasons. It is hard to pick a 'starting point' to this story; was it when my parents left me in the States to return to Thailand? Was it leaving Thailand? Was it feeling like I didn't belong anywhere and I never would? Was it the PA winter? Was it going home for Christmas and having to pretend I loved college? Was it the tsunami? It was all these things and more. All I know is that when I returned to the States after Christmas 2004, the cold did not leave me.

So let's start like this: I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression the spring of my sophomore year of college.

I didn't think I was depressed. I thought I was being realistic. I thought I was facing the world. I thought I was being grown up. And I also thought there was no one who could help me. I couldn't bear to be around other people, but I was terrified of being alone, because I was afraid I would disappear (something I still struggle with at times). I remember leaving a party one night because I couldn't bear to pretend to be friendly and smile at the jokes a moment longer and seeing my shadow cast by a porch light. The shadow was the blackest black and it reflected how I felt. At that time, I took it as a sign that there would be light to dispel the darkness, but as the semester wore on, it felt more like that light just proved how dark it was. When my mother, terrified and heartsick, suggested I see a school counselor, I think I probably told her that it would do no good. I went because I wanted to make her happy.

The counselor gave me a questionnaire. When I returned it to her, she tallied the results and informed me I was, most likely, severely depressed. I could not believe her. Because to believe her meant that all my perceptions, the very way I saw the world, was flawed; it meant that the darkness was inside and I couldn't trust anyone, even myself. It meant that I had failed in some way, because there was no reason for me to be depressed (not true, but that is how it seemed to me). She asked me if I had ever contemplated suicide. I told her no, of course not! This was a bit of a lie. I had considered that I had the perfect method to die, if I wanted: a simple overdose of insulin and I would just never wake up. Now I can admit that the only reason I did not act on that knowledge was because I didn't want to have to put my parents through the bother of coming back to the States to deal with my funeral. That is how deep my darkness was.

And I couldn't tell anyone. I tried, a few times, which ended badly. (I was informed that I needed to pray more and that I shouldn't be depressed because Jesus loves me.) So I tried to hide it from everyone around me, because I didn't want to bother them either and I thought it was such a huge burden that everyone would break. At the same time, I felt like it was the only thing that other people saw, which turned out to be not true. Last year I was heartbroken to learn that one of my closest friends during that time, the friend without whom I literally would not have eaten, had no idea what was going on with me. I felt invisible and hyper-visible at the same time: people saw but no one could see me.

That is the thing about depression: it is isolating. I felt like I could not function, that any little thing might cause me to shatter into a billion pieces and I knew, I knew there was no one to put those pieces back together. Because of the few bad experiences I didn't trust anyone with the whole truth; not even my parents. (I didn't want them to worry; they were so far away and they felt guilty already about leaving me and they couldn't DO anything anyway.) I was so broken that any movement caused me to cut myself and it seemed like there was no way out, not even death.

Just as it is hard to designate a start to this story, it is hard to write a conclusion. Partly because I'm not done yet, and so the narrative is still going. I will say, I am no longer in that place. Writing this blog post has been hard in some ways because that time is hazy, and I'm fine with keeping it that way. I found a good therapist who walked through the darkest of darknesses with me, and I can truly say I have left that particular patch of darkness behind.

I had to learn to trust people with my imperfections (I am still not good at this). I'm learning to trust myself and believe that I have strengths that are valuable. I have to trust that people actually like me and want me to stick around. I'm learning to be comfortable as a visible part of a community. It is hard work. It will never be finished. (It's a process. I'm a process. That concept is so liberating. It means nothing is finished, nothing is final. There is always another chance, another option.)

There is light, and it does not hurt.

What does all this have to do with my thesis? I suppose, technically, not much, since I'm not writing about depression. But my struggle with depression continues to inform how I function and so in that sense, it is important. I am still unsure of what my 'normal' is, and I am often afraid that any strong emotion, any failure to function, heralds a return to the dark. And I'm afraid that I will fail at this thesis business; and if I fail, I don't know what I will do or what will happen. I always feel kind of precarious, you could say. I have to remember that before I can fail, I have to try. And it is so good to know that I am in a place, mentally and emotionally, where I can try. And that there are people here who will help me even if I fail.

Inspiration

I suppose, that since I realized Sunday night that I have a crazy amount of work to do before I leave these shores on December 15, this blog will start to focus more on the process of writing, rather than my obsession with walking. Such is the season. It's invigorating, to be honest. I think I might need intense pressure before I can accomplish anything, which indicates a very stressful (but hardly dull) future.

On Sunday night, I felt incredibly overwhelmed and went to sleep thinking I should just give up; let last year be the best year ever and quit while I'm ahead. (I can sometimes be a bit dramatic, but I really was not sure I could get everything done.) Key to this angst was a lack of paper topic for my independent study and a real sense of boredom about my thesis topic. (I feel sometimes like I've been so focused on Thailand I cannot do or see anything else and it is not a good feeling.)

On Monday morning, I woke up and was hit with the perfect idea for my paper topic. This literally turned my world sunshiny again and upset the general malaise with commitment and inspiration. School is exciting again. And the interlibrary loan department is going to hate me.

CNX, here I come

I have tickets for Christmas. Buying them felt... kind of weird. First of all, they were extremely expensive, since, due to circumstances beyond my control, I was unable to buy them back in the summer like I had planned. But this is also the last Christmas in Thailand, since my parents are moving back to the States next year. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Now, I just have to write and write and write and stay sane and get through till December.

New York, New York

I haven't spent too much time in NYC, which sometimes surprises me, given how close it has been to me (comparatively) all these years I've been in PA. Once we visited when I was in ninth grade and we ended up walking from Battery Park to Little Italy because the family we were sightseeing with was convinced there was a scenic bus we could catch. We never found it, so we walked and walked and walked. In college I went to the Met and Chinatown but I've never just gone and walked around for the fun of it. (And I just remembered, I've been to PA Society twice, but since that was for my old job I blocked it out. Besides, I didn't see much of the city, although seeing power structures at work was certainly educational.)

Now the States has Megabus, though (this would have TOTALLY changed my college experience had they gotten here sooner), so my friend and I decided to just go up to NYC for the day. Getting up early and standing in line in the cold air reminded me of the times I took the Megabus to London. I don't usually travel on buses. My friend went to sleep but I like watching the scenery and I had brought some reading (which I actually did and I felt glee because it went perfectly with my thesis thoughts).

Philly is quiet so early and everyone is so bundled up because of the chill. Everything looks new in the rising sunlight. The scaffolding around Independence Hall looks like a wat (temple) out of the corner of my eye. So many overlaps. There was an elderly lady in a smashing trenchcoat sitting across the aisle from us; I want to be her someday, just jetting off to another city on a bus with a friend, regardless of age. We passed a billboard for free Qurans and a number for those who are curious to call. I wondered how many belligerent callers they get.

I love the curves of highways and the way they offshoot and interconnect (especially when I am not driving because then I don't have to worry about getting swept off the wrong exit). New York's skyline is beautiful and it amused me as we got closer that, for a city where people supposedly don't drive, there are a lot of cars. Then we got off the bus and the city swept us away.

It was a wonderful day. We had a vague plan (mostly involving where we wanted to eat) so we ventured into the subway system and promptly went the wrong way twice. But it didn't matter because we were on a timeless time table so we sorted ourselves out and made it to Shopsin's General Store, which was this tiny little stall in a Reading Terminal Market-type setting that had the BEST food ever. I had mac'n'cheese pancakes, which was a combo I personally would never have considered but was fantastic. Then we went to Sunshine Bakery and got cupcakes, which were pretty much heavenly. And then we walked a lot.

I had never been to the MoMA before. (Also, I love having a student id again!) There were some really interesting exhibits. My friend wanted to go to one on kitchens, and how they revolutionized women's lives. It was actually really interesting. One of the architects they showcased was a German lady who was passionate about improving the homes of the working class poor, and her desire for more efficient kitchens was to improve their lives and bring about a more egalitarian society. She was later ostracized after WW II because of her continued membership in the Communist Party. Fascinating. We also wandered through some amazing photo exhibits. One was comprised of women photographers from the late 1800s to the present and the other focused on the connections between photography and sculpture, and how early photographers wanted to draw connections between the two art forms. (I have to confess, as I walked through this exhibit, all I could think about was Benjamin's "Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" and I KNOW I AM SUCH A NERD.) Also, there were some cool paintings. (Starry Night!)

It was raining when we got out of the museum. I know I'm just in love with cities at the moment, but it really was beautiful, although very cold. The umbrella forest was a bit annoying, of course. And our bus stop had randomly moved a street over so we were glad we made it! And then we had to sit, wet and shivering until we got back to the Mainline. But it was totally, totally worth it.

Transitions

Today I decided to just go downtown and walk around with my ancient camera that I once dropped out of a window in England. I felt a little weird to take pictures; I didn't want to stand out as a tourist. I was amused by how much this bothered me. A challenge to accept my eternal Otherness?

I did not expect to have so many adjustments this semester. I really, really didn't. But over the last few months I've struggled with a growing sense of just... discontent, I guess is the best way to put it. It was hard to parse out, because technically, life hadn't changed all that much, except for the fact that I was no longer living in the city and it is hard to admit how much I miss it. I wasn't sure what, exactly I was longing for. I knew it wasn't Thailand, exactly, because I do really feel that my visit there this summer was a benediction of sorts. That one week I spent in Bangkok, it felt that Thailand was finally, truly, really mine, and that is enough. So I was at a loss to figure out what I was missing. I mean, it's kind of obvious, now. I miss living in the city. Horribly. Everyone I do admit this to informs me that they knew I would. How did I not know? I mean, how did I not know as strongly as they seem to? I feel that I try to plan and make the best possible choices and then I find that somewhere I missed something and wildly miscalculated.

I'm also thinking about the future. I don't know where I will be next year or what I will be doing and thinking about this makes me want to withdraw so deeply into my metaphorical shell I never have to decide anything again. I'm tired of moving. More specifically, I am tired of continually starting over. I'm certainly not ready to buy a house and never move again, but I would like to stay in a place for awhile. In an urban setting.

That's why I went downtown today. And it was amazing how relaxed I felt the moment I got off the train. More relaxed than I have felt all semester. And I understood why it felt so off to call my current apartment "home" and why I feel so trapped sometimes. So I ventured forth as a fragment of the crowds surging through the city.

I love the contrasts you find in cities: the scrambled buildings and the always-already-forever unfinished nature of the metropolis. Something will always be under construction. Old row homes fight with sky scrapers for the sunlight. The sidewalks and pavements are eternal patchworks of haphazard repairs and slow wearing. I feel safe here. The sky scrapers are the bones of my chosen habitat: chaotic, changing, yet solid. Cities are structured chaos and this is why I feel at home in them. The buildings evolve and people pass through and I am always reclaiming always remaking my small part just like everyone else. It's okay to be lost here. I like being anonymous but not alone.

I missed my train back out. I think I did that on purpose because I was reluctant to go. So I sat precariously on the edge of a crowded bench and listened to the trains being called. Come visit more often, my old roommate urged me today. And I think I will have to. Today was also the first day in a long time that I felt like writing, and writing is kind of important at this point! I have to learn new ways to balance my school life and everything else. (Is there even an everything else? I should probably learn that too.) School has been all consuming and I've had no escape. I should get a train pass to counteract that feeling alone. And I need to do more walking in the city.

Chayo, Farang

“Have you found home yet?” one of my uncles asked me before I left Thailand. I laughed because this was such a pertinent question, one that wanderers must mull over individually because he knew nothing of this blog or my pondering of that very issue. I told him I didn’t know, which is true. I am more convinced than ever of “home” being a process rather than a place. Even just writing this blog post has taken me a few weeks.

I realized something in Bangkok, when I was weaving my way through the crowds: I walk differently. This may sound odd. But I’ve noticed that living the last year in Philadelphia has taught me to walk with a bit more confidence. I don’t apologize (so much) for taking up space. At the same time, I noticed myself slipping back into particular ways of moving that I haven’t used in a long time, buried habits that feel very comfortable in some ways. Being back here has made me think about being a foreigner.

Growing up in Thailand was not particularly easy. Everything, it sometimes felt, conspired to remind us that we were aliens and we didn’t belong. We couldn’t drink the water. We had to leave the country several times a year to renew our visas; always stressful especially since there was the chance they might not renew us this time. We couldn’t buy clothes or shoes because we were so much taller than the general population. And one of my earliest memories of Asia is of the time an aunty pulled me aside to tell me emphatically that I should stay out of the sun because I would get CANCER (and presumably die).

I always knew Thailand was impermanent.

When I returned to the United States for college, I still felt like a foreigner. True, I could now buy clothes and shoes to my heart’s content (as my closet will testify). I could put my passport away for most of the year (which I simply hated). My skin color did not immediately mark me as “Other” and this was a huge, huge shock. Especially when I felt so different.

And the States felt like a prison because it was where I “belonged.”

This trip back to Thailand helped me put a lot of those things to rest. I wanted to know if I could continue to return there because I want to, and not out of an inconsolable longing for a place that could never be mine. For years I feared the final dreadful goodbye that would mean Thailand was lost to me forever. I thought that would be when my parents move back to the States, but now I think that goodbye happened a long time ago. And that is actually a huge relief.

It may seem strange, but I feel like I found both Thailand AND the States on this trip. After I told him I didn’t know if I would ever find a home, my uncle asked me where I was going back to in the States. I felt SO happy to tell him. (Seriously, it’s wonderful to be excited to go back. Also, the heres and theres get extremely complicated and I confuse even myself.) When I saw the Philadelphia skyline on Thursday I got such a huge grin on my face.

When people here tell me, “welcome home,” I don’t feel the need to correct them. This has become a home. I think this trip helped me realize that Thailand was the home that was given to me, and Philly is the home I’m building for myself.

So, did I accomplish what I set out to do during my month in my Thailand home? Well… I ate a lot and bought a lot… (Seriously, I had to bring back another suitcase! In my own defense, a lot of what I bought was research related, I swear!) I feel like I learned so much and reconnected with so much. I hoped this would help me come to a specific thesis topic, but instead I feel like I will never be able to narrow everything down! There’s also this feeling that no matter what I decide on, I will never be able to do my topic justice, or Thailand justice. (Or myself justice?)

In conclusion, the process continues.

(Chayo, farang, chayo. I will carry on.)

The longest day

My Thursday was super long. I left Chiang Mai on Thailand's Wednesday night, which was very sad. I hate that part of traveling. The sadness made me extremely grumpy, so I was not really happy when they gave me a hard time at check it. Apparently since I came in through Immigration in Bangkok, I couldn't go out of the international side of Chiang Mai's airport. Which meant I had to recheck in at the Bangkok airport. Fortunately they let me check my bags all the way through, but that was about the only bright spot. When I reached Bangkok, the check in counter wasn't open. I got there about 10 pm and the counter remained stubbornly closed until 2 am, which meant I had to sit there and wait. It was very boring.

Then I had to go through at least three checkpoints (including one right at the gate where they opened up all our carry ons and when through them by hand. What could i have possibly acquired in the duty free shops that would necessitate that?) so when I got to my seat I was less than my normal angelic self. And I found myself sitting behind the most obnoxious man ever. He was trying to be jovial, I think, and friendly, and I REALLY hope he was not trying to be as creepy as he came across. He tried to impress the young Thai lady sitting next to him with his Thai language skillz. He SAID he was trying to ask her how old she was (she said fifteen) but it sounded, to me, like he was asking her how much she cost. His accent was atrocious. He then proceeded to tell her about how he'd been in Isaan for the past year and started lecturing her on how awful the Thai school system was. "Education is very important to Americans," he said, "not to Thais." I seriously considered rising up and beating him over the head. However, he was a pretty big dude and I thought that might be a bad idea. (Later I heard him telling someone else that he used to work for Blackwater, so it probably is a good thing that I didn't hit him.) I couldn't imagine he would take kindly to sitting next to a foreigner who spoke less than perfect English lecturing HIM on the American education system after spending a year in a remote part of the country. Also, this dude snored extremely loudly. Which isn't his fault, but it didn't make me feel any more kindly towards him.

I didn't sleep very well, due to the snoring ugly American and a screaming baby, and I was further appalled to discover that due to flight changes and a delay in setting out from Bangkok, I had a 10 minute window to make my connecting flight in Tokyo. I BOOKED it through Narita, y'all. There was yet another security checkpoint (seriously, these checkpoints are too numerous) and i wish many blessings on the flight attendant who let me cut her in the interest of making it to my gate. I made it as they were doing the final call. I was SO relieved. I didn't even care if my bags didn't make the connection, I just knew I wasn't going to kick my heels in Tokyo if I could possibly help it!

When I got to New York I was very impressed to see that both my bags had made it! I'm a little upset because I know one of them at least was opened and someone went through it. There wasn't a note saying security had done it, though, so I just hope that nothing was taken. (This is why I don't pack anything of value in my checked baggage.) I haven't had a chance to check to make sure everything is intact. I'm sure it happened in Bangkok. There simply wasn't time anywhere else!

So now I have to stay awake! And move apartments! It's great! I'm glad to be back in PA. I miss my Thailand home though. Very much.

Last Day..

I hate the last full day before I go somewhere. I think the anticipation of saying goodbye is almost as bad as the actual moment of parting. Then, of course, I walk through the airport door and find myself in the netherworld. I was thinking today about how much air travel has changed how we traverse the world. I think in some ways, it's almost more violent to the human system, the jet-lag immediate and brutal. There's no real time to transition from the place you leave to the place you want to reach. (Altho, hours in flight and in airports sometimes seem interminable!) I mean, back when people traveled by sea, there would be several months to slowly adjust to the new life. I think strange things when I'm about to leave.

Today was spent on all the last minute things; I went back to the hair salon and ended up chopping off about five inches, I think. It felt like a good time to do something drastic. And the best part is, hair grows back so it is not the end of the world. There were two older farang men there when we went, getting pedicures and massages. It was such a strange experience; on the one hand, we had a very interesting conversation with one of them about his views on the poltical situation, but on the other, he was really skeevy to the women doing his nails.

(Come to America, he told them. I'll get you a nice farang husband. Not a crazy one.
What if they don't want a farang husband? I wanted to ask. The whole situation made me feel squicky inside.)

We ate lunch at a restaurant that we used to go too LONG ago. The owner recognized me and wanted to know where I was and what I was doing and if I had any children and it was kind of funny. My mom complimented her on how the restaurant has expanded, and she replied that business has been slow recently, and it's hard, never knowing what might come next. Tourism does seem to be down from what I remember. It's sad.

Then I got to spend some time with one of my high school teachers. She was a veritable font of wisdom and suggestions for further research. Excellent. :)

Catching up

So I have been feeling lazy. Also, I hate the final countdown to leaving, so I pretend that I don't have anything pressing. I'm sure this is indicative of something terrible in my mental state, but there it is.

Yesterday I went to the Sunday Walking Market with my parents. This started after "my time" so it was really neat to be able to go! The previous Sundays I've been here the rainy season has decided to actually be rainy so I was really glad I had the chance yesterday. It was wonderful just to walk and see everything. Unlike the regular day market, the Sunday Market is, suprise!, only set up on Sundays, which means that it is less confusing and cleaner. Also, they sensibly close off the road so there is less chance of being smashed. I wanted to find some artwork for my new apartment.

I was really surprised by how many pink shirts I saw. I was particularly interested in the group of stalls whose workers were all wearing pink "farmer's shirts." I'd never seen pink ones before. I wondered if they were all part of a family operation or something. I've noticed several businesses who have pink shirts specific to the business for employees to wear. At six, there was an announcement made to ask everyone to pause and then the national anthem was played. It brought back memories of high school. Also, it was neat because everyone really did pause.

Today my brother told me he'd take me around the muubaan to take pictures of the scenery and his hang out spots. I did not realize this meant I should be dressed for trekking through the wilderness! It was fun to see more of the neighborhood. I'm so glad I've been able to take so many pictures. I want to use them in decorating, too.

Hm..

Well, it seems that calendars are only available in January in Thailand. I went to several banks and a bookstore and lo, there were apparently none to be found. I thought about taking a display calendar from one of the banks but felt that might be a bad idea. It was massively disappointing. However, I consoled myself by going to the market and spending lots of money. I finally found a pink shirt, also! They were selling them way back in a corner I hadn't made it to before. There were also yellow shirts, green shirts and purple. I'd never seen the green before, and I wonder what the color green is associated with, if anything. (Also, I took a lot of pictures!)

In some ways, the market is easier for me to remember my way around than the mall, which I also visited today. The market hasn't changed all that much since we moved here nearly 15 years ago. It is still strange to me how empty the market has been, especially because the malls have always been packed. (However, in my personal opinion, that may have more to do with the fact that the mall is airconned than anything else.) I do think that tourism must be down, because the tuk tuk and song taow drivers are extremely eager to take us places. (My brother tells me that the Night Bazaar, at least, is still full of farangs.)

I went to the movies tonight with my brother. We watched Inception. I think he was a little annoyed because I made him go in for the previews because I wanted to see the King's Song. I'd heard there was a new vdo. It was really interesting, actually. In the past, the vdos have mainly been compilations of still photographs of HM and the Royal Family. The one tonight had the photographs, but they were interspersed with footage of HM's trips out to the provinces earlier in his reign. The emphasis on movement, rather than just still photos, seems significant to me.

Inception hurt my head rather. But my brother and I think we liked it. We caught a song taow home and hung off the back. This was something my parents forbade us to do when I was at home; I guess things change, haha. (For clarity, song taows are trucks that have benches in the back as well as a platform you can stand on off the end. I have pictures. Not from just now, of course, because hanging off the back of a truck does not lend itself to photography.) Fun times.

A Mystery Solved!

I finally found out how to get a hold of the calendars I see everywhere of HM. Apparently, banks give them away. Now I have to see how many banks I can visit in the next seven days! I think it's interesting that banks distribute these, free of charge to people. There's a lot there to think about. I'm going back to the market tomorrow and perhaps I will find some pink shirts. (I've seen so many variations, including ones with the king playing his saxophone. I hesitate to ask people I don't know about their shirts, however, because I don't want to offend them.)

I visited a museum at my mom's university. It was a very interesting mix of displays. The main display was in honor of the Crown Princess, but much of the rest was about the history of missionaries in Thailand. I found this really weird until I remembered that the university had originated as a missionary run hospital. I also found some helpful books in the library. It was a very satisfying day!

I've been thinking about the pictures I've been taking. I've had requests for more pictures of Chiang Mai itself. I have to confess, I hadn't even thought about taking pictures of "normal" things here. I thought it would bore people, until I realized that actually, the every day that would be interesting to someone who'd never seen it before. And I guess, I want to capture these things for myself as well. I only have a week left, and of course the inevitable countdown has started in my head. I've been balking at taking pictures in our muubaan (neighborhood) because I don't want to think about leaving yet. But at the same time, I've started thinking about getting back to PA and getting excited about settling back in there. It's nice to be excited about going back to the States. It'll make this last week much easier.

Contrasts

I saw an elephant today! It was ambling along a strip of stores as we drove past. I thought they'd been banned from the city limits so I felt really happy to see one today.

When we first moved here, we'd see elephants all the time, lumbering down the roads, a blinking light on their tails for visibility. They were a tourist gimmick, mostly. The mahouts would sell bunches of bananas and sugar cane to the tourists and the tourists would feed the elephant. Good deal for the mahout and the elephant! I remember distinctly one day, driving with my mom down San Kang Peng road, and seeing an elephant and suddenly realizing how ODD that should seem to me. And how it really wasn't odd at all! It was a strange moment of, I am a foreigner, but I'm not a foreigner.

Seeing that elephant made me think about how Thailand holds so many contrasts. Chiang Mai is in a flat valley surrounded by mountains. Right now, you can see them in the distance because the rain clears up the smog. During the dry seasons the mountains are hidden from sight. In the rainy season the weather can change in an instant, and you can look at the bowl of the sky and see the line of the clouds and their shadows on the mountains. Sometimes it will rain on one side of your house and the sun will shine on the other.

There are more sobering contrasts too, of course. There are mansions next to corrugated metal shanties. What is cheap to the farangs is expensive to the people who actually live here. Children beg from the patrons of the Sky Train in Bangkok. These are the contrasts that contribute to Thailand's fragile political situation, and sometimes they are easy to miss when Thailand's beauty is so overwhelming.

The best laid plans...

The internet has been wonky here. It is rather annoying! Such is life, however. Eventually it started working around lunchtime.

I wanted to go to the Hill Tribes Museum today. We went once a long time ago and it was very interesting. Mainly, the museum is about the work that the Royal family has done in developing Thailand's rural areas. I was hoping for some good information and possibly some good pictures. Alas! When we got there we found it was closed for renovations until September. I guess I'll have to go at Christmas.

As disappointing as that was, it gave me time to visit the hospital to see a doctor. (Nothing serious.) When the lady at the check in asked if I'd ever been there before, it was hard to explain that I had last been there about 13 years ago. Strangely, I was no longer in their computer database. The last time I was at this hospital was when I was diagnosed with Type I Diabetes. Not a particularly pleasant time; so basically, I'm revisiting all sorts of places and memories that I didn't plan to!

Then we went to the other mall to look for pink shirts. I am just completely bewildered by this. They are everywhere, yet nowhere. I'm going back to the market this week and maybe I will have some luck there.

Then I went to the dentist. Fun times. Altogether, my medical expenditures today were about $60. I love Thailand.

Walking in the Royal Park Ratchaphruek

Today my parents and I went to the Royal Park Ratchaphruek, which opened in 2006 in honor of His Majesty’s 60th year as monarch and his 80th birthday. I actually was able to go on my last visit to Thailand soon after it opened in 2006. Unfortunately, all the pictures I took that visit were on the hard-drive of the first computer that died on me this year. I may have to recover them, because I think I had some really good ones and it would be kind of interesting to compare them to the ones I took today. (And I think I’ll go back again too.)

Basically, the park commemorates His Majesty’s reign, with sections devoted to his work in promoting agriculture and education, particularly in Thailand’s rural regions. There are also, apparently, sections sponsored by 23 “outstanding Thai corporations,” according to the pamphlet. I had wondered about the predominance of corporate advertising I saw, so that makes a lot of sense. (In fact, the beautiful Royal Pavilion – where I took dozens of photos - was sponsored by Singha, one of Thailand’s main beer manufacturers.)

There are also gardens representing 23 nations around the globe, from South Africa to Bhutan. That was my favorite part of the park when I visited in 2006, but we didn’t have time to walk through them today. The United States did not contribute; personally I think it was because of their disapproval of the 2006 coup. And if that is so, it was a rude gesture. Anyway. I would like to go back and walk through those sections again. I remember Turkey’s garden as particularly beautiful.

This visit I spent most of my time in the Royal Pavilion. It is lovely. I was snapping pictures very happily when my mom pointed me to the wall murals. I hadn’t looked too closely because usually they are scenes from religious literature or just landscape murals, but these were all of HM, painted from some of the pictures I have seen. The lighting wasn’t particularly good, but I took pictures of them all and I can’t wait to see them on the computer. The Queen and Crown Princess were also depicted in the murals.

I was fascinated by the religious component of the building. As much as the courtyard of the hospital in Bangkok felt like a shrine, this seemed more overtly shrine-like. In fact, throughout the park there were bells like those in a temple ringing in the breeze. I can’t remember what the significance is, exactly, (and actually, they kind of creeped me out since I associate them with a horror film I saw years ago), but I’m going to find out. I think they are prayer bells.

There were also rabbits depicted everywhere. My parents and I were wondering if the King was born in the year of the Rabbit, which turns out to be the case. It was kind of amusing to see giant concrete rabbits sitting in the grass.

The park was very beautiful. It only recently reopened, I think. HM designated it a royal park earlier this year. I hope that it attracts more visitors. When I was there before, it was horribly crowded. Today there were about 15 other people that I saw wandering around. With the Queen’s birthday next month I’m sure there will be more visitors though.

Chiang Mai!

Well, it's been a few days since I posted. Since I got to Chiang Mai, things have just been going at a slower pace. Mostly, I've been doing family stuff and seeing people I haven't seen for years and it's really probably only interesting to me. It is kind of weird, being back here. I mentioned before, I think, that I never actually lived in the house my parents are in now. So I'm sleeping on the floor in my sister's old room which is now my parents' office. It is really strange to have to ask for rides and things again. (Chiang Mai, sadly, has no Sky Train or regular public transportation, and their house is kind of far out of town.) But my mom has been taking me places and it's been fun.

We went to the market the other day. It was very strange actually. There were so few people! My mom said it was probably because it was still early in the day, but later she commented that it might also have to do with the economic/political situation. I had remembered crowds of people, but there just weren't too many. I was politely told I could not take pictures inside the shops, which was disappointing, but understandable, I guess.

I really, really, really, want to know where to find the pink shirts. It seems odd to me that so many people wear them, yet I don't see them for sale. Obviously, they must be for sale SOMEWHERE but I'm just not sure where to look. There are large sections of the market that I did not get to this past week so I will try and explore there more. I did find some blue shirts (which honor Her Majesty) and since her birthday is next month it makes sense that they would be more accessible. (I found it interesting because we asked the shop ladies if the shirts were for the Queen's birthday and she said yes, referring to the Queen as "mother." As in, the country's mother, I think.)

Last night I met a friend at the mall and there were hordes and hordes of screaming high school girls. (You can tell by their school uniforms.) Turns out, there were some Korean pop stars performing. I was disappointed I couldn't see the singers because of the crowds. It was an interesting contrast, and I wondered how important any of the things I've been looking at and for (in terms of culture and politics) are to the younger people of Thailand. I guess there are times and ages when Korean pop stars are just the most important thing in the world. And that might be a good thing, in some ways.

Leaving Bangkok

Checking out of the guesthouse was weird. For a few days, it felt a bit like a home of some kind. It felt like I had come full circle, somehow. I’d also had two more conversations with two more sets of parents about their child’s expected transition to university. In some ways, talking to them about my experience (and I’ve had more opportunities here in CM so far as well, but I’ll get there) has contributed to the feeling of completing a cycle. It feels like I can let a lot of things go a bit.

Like I mentioned, I am a very stubborn person. So when I decided to go back to Ratchaprasong after I checked out, I was determined to wear my shorts. And it was really, really hot so I’m glad I did. Again, it was just very strange how normal everything seemed. The emphasis on buying and sales and Visa credit opportunities was rather surreal. (Also, I didn’t know for a long time that Visa was a credit card and not just a document you had to have for Immigration officials.) I was very excited because when I came out of one of the malls there were two camera crews on either side of the road. I was hoping that maybe someone important would be coming to give a speech or something, but it turned out that they were filming a commercial. I was disappointed!

After I took my pictures, I went into Siam Paragon, a huge mall near the Sky Train. And there I visited a ginormous bookstore. I could totally live in BKK because of this place. When I lived in Thailand before, my greatest sorrow was the lack of English books. (Seriously, I was starved for reading material. I remember those days with pain and anguish. If you look at my keychain now you will find that I have collected library cards from every town in which I had any sort of address since I returned to the States. It is usually the first thing I do whenever I move.) This bookstore (name of which I confess I cannot recall) had a HUGE collection of English books.

I am in love with this store. Even though I can’t remember its name. The prices weren’t too bad either! I found the book I had wanted to bring my friend T. In the States it was still only in hardcover, but they had paperback versions there so I bought one and then read it while I waited for her to get off work. (I love books.) We went to the mall and took sticker pictures (which were hugely popular when I was in high school. Now they are all commercialized and expensive, which made me sad) and it was fun to hang out with her.

The next day I just rested, waiting for T to get off work for dinner and for my evening flight. It was so nice to have a down day! I wish it hadn’t been so dark in the taxi to the airport because there were a lot of things I would have liked to take pictures of. Including a sticker on the window with pictures of what were not allowed in the taxi: water buffalo, knives or machine guns, sex, collie dogs, liquid, durian and cigarettes. I found this very amusing.

My flight was delayed an hour. That was very irritating, because I wanted to get to Chiang Mai! Sitting in airports can be such a pain. When we finally landed I told the man sitting next to me that Chiang Mai International Airport was my favorite airport in the whole world, because it meant I was home. I don’t think he understood.

It is good to be back. It is weird, though, because I've never actually lived in the house my parents are renting now. And they've lived in it for almost six years! Crazy.

In Chiang Mai!

I am now in Chiang Mai, the city I where I grew up! This will be an interesting part of the journey... I'm not quite done posting about Bangkok (and I do have many more photos; I'm just trying to figure out how to share them), but I'm working on it. I got a bit homesick for PA yesterday, which just goes to show that this "home" business is extremely complicated. I'm loving spending time with my mom though. It's so nice to just do "normal" things, like have a cup of coffee without feeling rushed and OMG THIS WILL BE THE LAST TIME I SEE YOU FOR SIX MONTHS. Because I'll get to see her tomorrow. :)

Some Bangkok Photos!

 

Walking in the City, Part II: The Victory Monument to Rongpayabaan Siriraj

I realize I am changing up the style of my blog post titles. Oh well. I kind of forgot I was doing the “Day such and such” thing. Also, I like “Walking in the City.” Ah, de Certeau. I cannot quit you just yet!

Wednesday was my day of Epic Travels. I had to run to the office to meet my uncle once more to drop off his Sky Train pass and to get some money from my dad. (I was really, really annoyed when my credit card refused to let me use it here. I called them twice!) So I trotted off to the Sky Train (<3!) and realized I had no idea how to get to the office from the stop. I hazarded a guess as to direction and set off boldly. I was very pleased with myself that I got it right.

You would think, having gotten my wardrobe completely wrong the day before, that I would have learned my lesson. But I had decided to wear shorts, and when I told my uncle where I was going and what I wanted to see and that I wanted to end up at Siriraj Hospital to sign the King’s get-well book, he gently suggested that I maybe change into a skirt. I was very annoyed with myself, but I wanted to be able to sign the book so I raced back to the guest house to modestify myself. Then I went to the Victory Monument to start taking pictures.

I caught a taxi to Chitralada Palace, which is quite near Parliament and my uncle said they had some good pictures at the four corners. The taxi driver was very nice and corrected my pronunciation and explained to me (I think) that the King is not actually in residence at Chitralada. One thing this trip has taught me is that I need to do some seriously intensive language study. I can read pretty well still, but my conversational skills are seriously depleted.

In my enthusiasm, I decided that I would walk around the palace, to Parliament and down to the Democracy Monument past the statue of Rama V. This was a key corridor for protestors and my uncle said there were bound to be lots of royal pictures as this was also the section of the city dedicated to many different ministries. I am here to tell you that this was in fact a very bad idea. It all looked pretty close on the map. The map was deceiving.

Additionally, I had not had enough water so I began to feel quite faint and I think my blood sugars dropped. I am a very stubborn person and I am also quite stupid sometimes so I decided to keep going till I got to the Democracy Monument and look for a café. However, when I nearly passed out trying to take a picture, I realized I needed to sit down, preferably in an air-conned restaurant. It was a blow to my pride, but I spotted a restaurant and stumbled inside. This was a very good decision, because I was still miles away from the Democracy Monument, as I found when I set off again. (I love fried rice, by the way. It is simple and hard to mess up. I also love, love, love water. So much.)

I really am rather pleased with my ability to guess which direction to go, because the maps I had were not really clear on where the monument was. I really only found it because I spotted some giant pictures of the royal family down one of the streets at a particularly confusing intersection and I decided I should investigate. And lo, the photos led straight to the monument! I thought it was interesting that all the royal photos were displayed so prominently near the monument. I wondered if they were normally displayed there or if they had been put up more recently.

I feel the need to mention how utterly terrifying the traffic is in Bangkok. Crossing the intersections was extremely crazy. I’m realizing, being back here, just why I was so scared to drive initially. It’s because every time you are near a road here you really might die. Being in the taxi to the hospital was one experience I will not forget in a hurry. I think the driver thought I was mistaken when I asked to go to there.

“Siriraj hotel?” he said. “Rongpayabaan,” I said. Hospital. I think he thought I was crazy. I certainly think his driving was crazy. He was going so fast and it was annoying because once we crossed the river there were a lot of billboards that I wanted to get pictures of but could not. The hospital was very surprising. I was expecting lots of guards and security, but the complex was under construction and very haphazard and when the taxi dropped me off I had no idea where to go. There were no signs and I was actually afraid he had just dropped me off at some random hospital.

I will not panic, I told myself. So I went into a coffee shop because I really did need some caffeine (jetlag, boo) and noted that the staff were all wearing pink shirts. Feeling heartened, I went back out and just started wandering around corridors and finally stumbled upon a quiet inner courtyard with incense burning and a sala with giant photographs of His Majesty with many tables off to the sides.

It felt like a shrine. And honestly, that is what it was. I wanted to take pictures but I am fairly sure that was not allowed. (I think I probably missed a sign in my wandering.) Anyway, I did not want to disrupt the people praying. I felt like praying myself. It was very emotional; His Majesty is, after all, known to be “in the heart” of Thai people.

An official noticed me looking at the pictures and asked me if I needed help. I asked if this was the place to sign the book and if I could? He led me over to a table and I got to write my name in a list. It was the only name in English on that page. They took a picture of me signing; this amused me. I’m on file somewhere, a random farang looking haggard and a bit dazed, writing my name for someone that I will never meet. I’m so, so glad I got to sign though. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. (He is in my heart, too.)

It took forever to find a taxi back to my guesthouse. But it felt like I had completed something important.

Walking in the City, Part I: The Grand Palace to Lumpini Park

Bangkok definitely is a part of me now. I think I’ve walked across much of it; at least it feels that way! It has been such fun to just wander around. Of course, in my habit of being far to hard on myself, I am consumed with the thought that I should have done more, seen more, taken more pictures, gotten over jetlag sooner or just SOLDIERED PAST IT FOR KNOWLEDGE. However, it probably is a good thing that I was on jetlag because I probably would have ended up fainting in the street if I hadn’t known myself to be on the edge of exhaustion because of the time change. (That actually almost happened on Wednesday, but I’ll get to that eventually.)

I don’t think I mentioned this before, but the guesthouse where I stayed the last few days was actually the first place my family stayed when we moved to Thailand. So that was pretty neat. There was another family that I knew staying there so it was fun to see their kids and catch up a bit. “I saw your last name on the breakfast list, and I thought it was your dad staying here,” my aunt told me. It’s kind of special to be back among people who know my family.

I had no set plans for the day; I had a list of things and places I wanted to see but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do first. I started talking to a random seminarian who was on a grant from his seminary to study sports ministry around the globe and was feeling kind of lonely since his wife wasn’t able to come with him. So when the travelling seminarian told me he planed to go to the Grand Palace and wondered if I would go with him, I decided, why not? I had wanted to go there eventually anyway. We went on a water taxi and it was so amazing to see Bangkok by daylight.

When we got to the Grand Palace (which also includes the Temple of the Emerald Buddha), I remembered how much I had forgotten about certain aspects of Thai culture. I was dressed incorrectly, which was kind of hilarious, since I was wearing gouchos, which are mid-calf length. If I had been wearing my jean skirt (knee length) or jeans (which showcase the entire leg?) I would have been fine. Anyway, they shooed us into the skirt and trouser rental stall, where I acquired a very fetching wrap skirt that clashed magnificently with the shirt I was wearing. (Pictures will be forthcoming, I promise.) Seminarian had to rent some trousers because he was wearing shorts. Feeling rather ridiculous, we continued on our way.

There was a really interesting museum of Royal regalia, but taking pictures was against the rules. I was hoping for some good photo collections, but alas. What they did have I could not document for myself. I felt a little better about my cultural competency, however, when seminarian pointed at a mural of the current dynasty and I nearly choked with horror. “Pointing is rude!” I gasped. This started an interesting discussion of respect for the monarch where I told him all sorts of interesting facts and I think he got a little bored. But as he had previously spent ages talking about sports ministry I didn’t feel too bad.

I was particularly interested in how many pink shirts I saw. Following the Yellow Shirt protests, many people who want to show loyalty to the King now wear pink. I want a pink shirt. (Pink is also the color associated with Tuesday, which also contributed to the numbers, I’m sure. However, I didn’t see as many yellow shirts on Monday or blue shirts on Wednesday as pink shirts overall. There were a lot of purple shirts, too.)

I think my favorite part of the Grand Palace were the colors of the buildings. They are so beautiful. The sunlight is so strong here that bright colors in decoration are necessary. In another place or light they would probably seem a bit garish. The temple complex was a riot of gorgeous color: blues, golds, greens and reds. I took far too many pictures. The intricate roofs against the sky were mesmerizing.

We got back on the water taxi and headed downriver. It was really crowded. Have I mentioned how much I love the Sky Train yet this post? Because I love it. After walking around in the hot sun all morning it was such a relief to get in the airconned car. Seminarian had some sporty ministry to visit and I went on to Lumpini Park, where there were barricades and counter protesters (the Multi-colored shirts) and where a Red Shirt General was assassinated.

As with Ratchaprasong, it felt a bit eerie how normal everything looked. It was also extremely hot and the park was empty. There was a stage set up at the front gate and I wondered if it was from the protests, but my aunt later told me that they often have aerobics in the park in the evening. I wanted to go back in an evening to see how the park is utilized at different times, but alas, I ran out of days. The park is interesting because it is so flat and surrounded by so many tall buildings, overpasses and the Sky Train. I almost died trying to cross the road because the traffic patterns were a bit unpredictable to me. (Trying to look all ways at once is slightly difficult, you know?)

When I was walking back to the Sky Train I overheard a man telling someone, “Yes, the barricades were all along here,” as they hurried past. I was the only one lingering. It was a bit of a relief to get back on the train and leave the odd normal-yet-site-of-tragedy behind.

On my way back to the guesthouse, I stopped at Big C to get some edibles. I didn’t feel like finding a restaurant and the guesthouse only served breakfast. Big C is kind of like Walmart, only not as big. I think it’s a European company, but I’m not sure. Anyway. Jetlag was really kicking in so it is possible that is why I could not find any peanut butter, OMG. This was quite tragic, let me tell you. I LOVE peanut butter! I ended up getting Nutella, which I also love, but it was a grave disappointment anyway.

Also, I saw a giant spider that an employee was batting down the aisle with a broom. It was huge and hairy and if I hadn’t been so tired I probably would have screamed. I wanted to ask her why she DIDN’T KILL IT, but many people here wouldn’t because of their Buddhist beliefs. Personally, if I were reincarnated as a giant hairy spider I would want to be swatted as soon as possible. As it was, I knew I would never try any of the clothes on in that store, and I spent the rest of the evening fighting off a sense of creeping doom. (As in, I kept worrying that creeping critters would appear in my room, invade my shower, hide in my bed or just crawl across my feet.)

The Thai government extended emergency rule that day. I didn’t hear about it until I was back in my room in the evening and got concerned messages from friends in America who had been following the news. (Thanks, friends! I miss you!) Given the apparent normality of all I had seen, I assured them I felt that this was a precautionary measure. Overall, the sense I have of Bangkok is that things are quiet, but there is definitely an unspoken tension. And a strong interest in the World Cup! Seriously, it is everywhere.

Quick Post!

So, the World Cup is HUGE here in Bangkok. I give unto you, the Thai version of "Waving Flag":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCK-LT7TQsw

Of course, it's sponsored by Coca Cola, but I haven't seen this vdo playing on anything, just heard the song on the Sky Train and on the radio. (A LOT.)

Anyway, enjoy! You can see a lot of Bangkok that I've been walking all over.

I'm trying to decide how tired I am and if I can make it back to Ratchaprasong today. If I don't, I will post longer later today. If I do, I will be posting a ton tomorrow.

Day Two: The Kindness of “Family”

(written July 6th)

I use quotation marks a lot, I realize. I just feel so often that the terms I use require explanation! But the expat community was like a family, and I just remembered how much I missed it. Today reminded me of many things, both good and very sad. Prepare for a long and complicated post.

I carefully wrote down the address of the BKK office where I was going to meet my uncle. I showed it to the taxi driver and off we went. It was pretty much a disaster. Thailand’s back roads (or soi) are rather haphazard and hard to find if you aren’t exactly sure where you are going. So the taxi driver and I spent a good twenty minutes driving up and down the road (thanon) the soi supposedly connected with. He was getting visibly annoyed, and I felt awful because I didn’t have a phone. We did illegal u-turns and stopped traffic and it was very epic. In the end he used his personal phone to call my uncle and we finally found the office.

The journalist we were supposed to meet for lunch was running late so my uncle and I met up with my aunt who invited us to go with her to meet another aunt for coffee. It’s hard to explain how this felt, to see these people who were like family and I assumed I would never see again. Ironically, we went to Starbucks for coffee and it was VERY amusing how generic Starbucks is. Aside from the Thai patrons it was exactly the same as any other Starbucks I have ever seen. (ALSO, there is a GAP in Bangkok now. A GAP. Can I just repeat, a GAP? I think the end is near. Besides, I don’t know why they WANT a Gap; the clothes here are far cuter and honestly, most of the Gap stuff is made in the region anyway and you can find it in export shops for cheap.)

My aunts and uncle were very interested in what I was wanting to research and shared their personal insights into the current situation and talked about their own experiences. My uncle and aunt who live in Bangkok were caught in mobs with their children and sometimes had to avoid their balcony because of sniper concerns. This made everything even more real to me. It was hard on their kids, they told me. I feel that was probably a massive understatement. What must it be like to be taking your friend home and have gunshots going off around your car? To have your school cancelled for such grave security issues? To smell the burning tires and hear the explosions? All these thoughts were extremely sobering.

Throughout our conversation, it was interesting what remained unsaid. There were significant silences and unspoken agreements and I just felt, regardless of how everything has been cleaned up and quieted, so much is left unresolved. And everyone knows it.

We then toddled along to the FCCT (Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Thailand) where I acquired a massive book called The King of Thailand in World Focus, which is a compilation of media coverage of His Majesty. I am very excited. I haven’t let myself look at it yet because I need to keep this blog updated! Also, I just haven’t had time. There was a photo exhibit in the FCCT of the Red Shirt protests and it was kind of hard to see. (At the same time, I was wondering how I could get my hands on these photos for reference purposes. Academia evokes such complicated emotions.) My uncle’s friend, a journalist who has worked in the region for over four decades, was really interesting. Again, guarded discussions involving extreme nuance.

If nothing else, this trip has been excellent for explaining what my research involves or could possibly focus on. My uncle’s friend was also extremely interested, and he gave me some good advice that I will have to think about. On the one hand, he said to me, you might want to consider focusing on another country for a while, expand your expertise. Given my own complicated feelings about Thailand, I could appreciate that. But then, after we had talked around the last few months he told me, rather emotionally, that I have an opportunity in my research to help others care about Thailand. That I could help others see the Thailand beyond the newspapers. And that made me feel emotional too. Because it is complicated.

After spending the rest of the afternoon in some meetings at the Bangkok UNESCO offices, my uncle took me to get a cheap used mobile phone. I feel much better about wandering around the city alone now! Then we met up with the rest of his family and my other aunt's family for dinner. This too was very emotional. It was strange to see all these kids that I used to babysit for now thinking about college and graduating, and to be an "adult" at the table instead of just being my parents' kid.

It was hard because my aunts wanted me to talk about my own college experience and about reentry and how I adjusted back to the States. I decided to be honest, but I also felt bad, like I was being scary. I wish someone had been honest about how hard it was though. When I got to my guesthouse after dinner I cried. I’m finally getting it together, seven years after returning to the States, but I’m still sad for the girl I used to be. It’s all a process. I’m a process. And I think part of moving forward meant I had to come back here, to remember what I left and learn what I can gain.

Day One: Ratchaprasong

(Written July 5th, 2010)

July 4th (I think that was yesterday? Seriously I am so mixed up) I took a taxi from my friend T’s and went to meet W, a dear friend from college. Driving through the city in a taxi was kind of amazing. I had not seen Thailand since 2006. It all felt so familiar, and looked so different. It made me realize this country is what I remember when I feel like I recognize other places.

I laughed to myself when the driver put on a cd of “movie hits.” I was not expecting to hear a medley that included the “apple bottom jeans” song as well as a song from a kdrama involving “Ave Maria.” Oh Thailand. Such a hodgepodge of influences.

W and I went first to the Victory Monument. At this moment, in my jetlagged state, I am pretty sure this is where some protest stuff happened. Rallying speeches and such. There are rails enclosing the monument; I wondered if it was because of the protests but today my uncle said they are usually there. There are four giant portraits of His Majesty surrounding the monument. I didn’t realize this at the time I was there, so I will have to go back and get more pictures.

Fortunately there are “sky walks” for pedestrians surrounding the monument and I will be able to walk around the whole thing without worrying about traffic, which is INTENSE. I had forgotten how crazy it is! I have to make sure I look both ways carefully because they drive on the other side of the road here and I think at last count I have almost been hit by something five times. (To be fair, some of these times were motorbikes on the sidewalk. Traffic is fluid and knows few boundaries here.)

The Ratchaprasong intersection was… so normal. In a way, it was slightly unnerving. The last few months I spent following the protests frantically and there is so little left of them… Ratchaprasong was one of the main spots where the Red Shirts camped out, and it is also where, in the final, terrible days, they burned a mall down. It was very burned still. Through one of the openings we wondered if we could see bullet holes in a wall. It reminded me of when I visited Belfast would suddenly come upon bullet ridden walls, silent reminders of past conflict.

This is also the location of the Erawan shrine, which I’m pretty sure was a rallying point of some kind. (I have to double-check a lot of things.) There was a small but steady crowd of people at the shrine, intense incense and a cultural dance performance going on.

An interesting thing about this intersection is that it is right in the middle of some seriously high-end malls. There was a Louis Vitton store and I felt like it could have been in NYC. It was also fascinating because there were “Together we can” signs everywhere: a campaign rolled out by the municipality during the clean up process. There was a giant billboard in front of the burned out mall with this slogan emphasizing reconciliation for “One country, one people.” I thought it echoed Obama’s “Yes we can.”

But what was MOST interesting to me was the wall of graffiti in front of the fence enclosing the mall. The comments were an interesting mix – pleas for peace, anti-Thaksin (or Thugsin) rants, comments on Iran (?!) – in at least five different languages. (I counted Thai, English, Japanese, Chinese, and French. There were probably more but it was hard to linger because it was a busy sidewalk.) I took a lot of pictures. I’m still figuring out the zoom and focus, though, so I hope that I got some good shots! I think I want to go back and get more pictures anyway though.

I’m so glad I came and saw these places with my own eyes. It is so interesting that there is such a focus on unity with this slogan. I want to try and find one of the t-shirts. (The other thing that was really interesting to me is that there was a strong push to BUY THINGS at Ratchaprasong. I guess consuming = normality?)

The rest of the day we just did a bit of sight seeing. (Can I just say I love the Sky Train?! It is so clean and easy to use. And it’s a Sky Train! You can see so much of the city!) We took an accidental detour on a ferry across the Chao Praya river (we thought it was a river tour) for 6 baht. (Which is roughly ten cents, I think.) Then we got on an actual river tour and saw more of Bangkok from the river at sunset. I saw one of the palaces; I’m going to try and go there later this week.

Then we went to the “trekkie” farang district. (Basically, where the unwashed foreigners looking to find themselves congregate.) I know that “trekkie” means something else in the States, but we always called them that growing up because they were here, generally, to go trekking. It was pretty hilarious. I felt like a tourist to watch the tourists. Also, the music was a riot. I heard Pitbull, the Black Eyed Peas, Bob Marley, and the FIFA songs all mixed in with traditional Thai music.

So, conclusion to the first day: Bangkok, so strange, yet familiar. It feels weird to be so obviously farang again. I feel very tall. The sound of tuk tuks is so comforting. It’s been a long time since I heard them. Also, it is HOT. One of the reasons I like the Sky Train is for the aircon.

More to come...

It has been a busy two days! I'm not exactly sure what day it is, exactly. However, I've learned so much and I'm so glad, at this moment, that I came. (I don't like to be TOO optimistic, but I really am happy.) :)

Airports, Airplanes, and I always forget how awful Jetlag is...

So! I am in Bangkok! And I am exhausted! It was so frustrating, jaunting around the globe without internet access! I got off the plane in BKK and it hit me, more fully, that I had no phone, no car, and no internet. It was a little upsetting. But I found my dear friend, got a bit of sleep and am thinking about getting a cheap pre-paid phone for my time here. (You can do that here without breaking the bank, apparently. I hope that means grad student banks, too.)

Here are the meandering thoughts I composed along the way here:

JFK, New York: I’m feeling chatty and there’s no one here to talk to, sadly. So I will write down what I’m thinking and post this sometime when I can find a free wi-fi connection.

It’s been an interesting day already. I stayed up all night packing and cleaning (and finding things that should have gone in storage when it was far too late to do anything about it), so I was pretty tired when the shuttle came for me at 5:30. I felt a little anxious when I got in because the van smelled like beer. And then the first thing the driver said to me was, “I haven’t slept since Wednesday.”

“Great,” I thought. “He hasn’t slept and he’s possibly drunk. This could be a tragic beginning to this adventure!”

It turned out that he’d taken a charter group to a concert the night before and let them tailgate out the back.

Philly looks different at 5:30 in the morning. It’s much quieter and serene. It felt weird to be leaving. Driver drove a bit maniacally and so I ended up at JFK well before I needed to. I dragged myself into the terminal feeling slightly grumpy at the thought of how long I was going to have to sit and wait.

When I got inside the airport, I felt a bit overwhelmed. In the three and a half years since I last flew internationally, everything has gotten technologized. I wasn’t sure how to use the self-check in kiosks and I felt a bit of a fool. This made me want to think deep thoughts about how technology is slowly changing our culture and how people interact with each other, but I feel like I’m on jetlag already so I gave up.

There is nothing quite like an airport terminal though. Everything is extremely expensive and streamlined. You must proceed in designated, straight lines from point A to point B. You enter a separate realm of existence: once you pass through security you are in the world of the terminus, a pathway to the next place separated from its physical location by passports, boarding passes and metal detectors. The plane is an extension of these lines: a metal capsule in the sky, connecting one no-man’s-land to another.

Your flight carries you to another terminal, which feels strangely familiar. Even though you may be in a completely different country, unless you go back through the security process, you are not really present. Your hours in the airport don’t count; you just pass through. You are invisible, unless you deviate from the approved procedures and then you are unpleasantly hyper-visible, a possible menace to the world. The terminus is a world of ordered and regulated discomfort: from the uncomfortable chairs to the glaring lights you are never allowed to forget that you are on your way somewhere else. Real life happens outside the boundaries of the airport. Inside you can only wait, disconnected from everything.

Narita, Tokyo: This lack of internet access feels like I’m flying blind, as it were, and increases my feeling of forced disconnect. Obviously, the terminal isn’t ‘real’ since I can’t get in touch with anyone without spending a lot of money!

One flight down. I was very worried when a mother and young child came to sit in my row. But the little guy was very well behaved and I envied his ability to sleep. I did manage to sleep quite a bit, but no thanks to the people in the row behind me, who decided that their light needed to be on the whole flight and insisted on flirting with each other at the top of their lungs.

I was thinking about the associations with “free spiritedness” and traveling. It struck me that air travel, in particular, is not really compatible with just going wherever your whim takes you. Because of the regimentation, once you are in the airport you are locked into your path of travel. There aren’t any detours for airplanes, (or, if there are, they are usually unexpected and unwelcome). Once you sit down you must stay there for however many hours until you touch ground. Time is kind of weird in flight too. You pass through time zones so fast, so it’s like, what time is it actually for me? Is it the zone I left? The zone I’m going to? The one I’m racing through?

Bangkok: That was possibly the smoothest trip I’ve had to date. I think the guy I was sitting next to was sneaking the complimentary single bottles of wine into his bag, because he took like eight of them and he was walking in a straight line when we disembarked. It was certainly one of the quickest trips through customs I’ve had! BKK airport is pretty amazing. When I'm there on Friday I'l try to get some pictures.

I’m afraid I slept too much on the plane though. Right now, it’s about 7 am, my current time, and I guess I slept around 1 am or so. (It’s interesting how discussions of time internationally go; it’s “my morning” or “my tomorrow” and “your night.”) I was going to try to stay up the last flight but it was easier to sleep. None of the movies seemed appealing. So now I'm wide awake but exhausted. (Jetlag isn't just feeling sleepy; it's feeling like you're moving through molasses and it just seems easier to lie down. A physical effect of being yanked through time, I guess.)

It is so humid! I don’t think I can describe it; it’s so familiar and right now I love it but by the end of the day I will probably feel very differently! It’s like a blanket.

I still wish I had a phone! Seriously, one of the reasons I decided to try blogging this trip was so I felt like I was still connected to everyone.

I need some coffee. But I’m so excited for the day!

Here!

This is just a quick post to say I'm FINALLY in Bangkok!

It is so weird and awesome to be back.

I have some posts that I wrote en-route that I will post tomorrow. Or today. Jetlag is so confusing.

"Going Home"

Someone asked me recently what I was going to look for on this trip. I still don’t quite know… It’s hard to explain exactly, what this chance to return to Thailand means to me. For those readers who have known me a long time, it may surprise you to know that I was not sure I was going to tell anyone at Villanova about growing up in Thailand. (Actually, that will probably surprise a lot of people at Villanova, too.) I thought maybe the time had come to let that part of my life go a little. To see what might interest me or define me in the here and now, let go of the deep sadness I experienced (experience?) in returning to the States for college and just be… whoever I might be without defining myself as inexorably “farang.”

Of course, it didn’t really turn out that way. Far from leaving Thailand behind, I incorporated it into my present more thoroughly than it had been since I lived there and my past life became the foundation for my present research. As Thailand’s political situation suddenly became highly volatile, I struggled with maintaining my academic interest in the face of my deep personal connections. I wondered often if I should let it go; focus on something else. And I still do. But I’ve decided to attempt a thesis project connected to Thailand, so I’m going to be holding on at least a little longer.

I’ve long defined myself as a Third Culture Kid. I recognized myself in one of the readings I had this semester that described how TCKs need a “dynamic and processual view of home” (Wise, 2001, p. 307). I’ve called Thailand home for a very long time; but I have other homes now, and so I worry, a bit, about going back to the one that I have desperately longed for but could not have.

So, what am I looking for? Well, I want to experience Thailand. As an adult. And a researcher. I want to walk the streets of Bangkok and Chiang Mai and make them a part of me. I want to see if Thailand will continue to shape me in the present, or if, after this year, I may be able to focus on other things. It’s exciting and kind of scary. Those are the mythic, soul shaking thoughts I have. On a more prosaic level, I want to take a lot of pictures, eat a lot of my favorite foods (I worry my spice tolerance is sadly decreased), and concoct some sort of awesome thesis project that will interest me for the next twelve months. Also, I want to go shopping. I think it’s entirely doable. And since I’ll need to have detailed notes and deep insights, I figure maybe blogging will keep me accountable. Maybe. I’m kind of lazy.