Homestead

Although I like to think of myself as a pretty intelligent individual, I sometimes do dumb things. Like completely forget to write about my accommodations in Thailand (that's what you were thinking of when I referred to me doing dumb things right? Right?). I apologize to the throngs of faithful readers who have clamored for for an inside look into my luxurious lodgings. Without further ado.

My living quarters are in a word: simple. The GVI house has a rustic charm, but residing there is certainly an acquired taste. I am currently bunking with 3 others in a room fit for 6. And when I say "fit for 6," I am merely referring to the number of beds in the room, not the number of people who can comfortably live in the room. Although it is a bit cramped at times, I need to do little but think back to my New York "bedroom" in which I could touch both sides of the room at the same time. How far I have come. At least my sleeping quarters over here afford me enough space to get in my 200 daily push ups and sit ups.

The bathroom that services our bunkhouse is certainly different than back home. The shower and toilet are in very close proximity to each other and things do get a bit wet if you happen to drop the handheld showerhead (not that I've done that or anything). The toilet is "flushed" using a bucket of water. The bin on the other side of the toilet is for toilet paper. You get the idea, let's move on. Macauley Culkin (aka Kevin McCalister) once said of his Plaza Hotel bathroom that it was "luxurious...and spacious." I can assure you that I did not bestow such laudatory language in assessing my bano.

The rest of the house is welcoming and in working order. The laundry room is the green space out back with the collection of wash buckets and safety pins. The washing machine is yours truly and below are my tools of the trade.

I really have no complaints about my adopted homestead, but there is one "lingering" drawback. The house is located on a rather unfortunate stretch of road that is downwind from the a massive palm oil factory. I don't know much about palm oil, but I am certain of two things: the aforementioned factory produces an abundance of the stuff (as evidenced by their maintaining some form of activity 24 hours a day) and making it produces an absolutely horrid smell. It is hard to put my finger on it, but I think the odor could most accurately be described as a delightful combination of the smells of wet socks and spoiled milk. Although our pungent neighbor is a minor nuisance, I can take comfort in knowing that I will always know how to make my way back to the base, even if my vision has failed me in a freak accident (not a stretch of the imagination by any means for those who know my track record).

I know what you're thinking. "Geez, stop complaining so much. You ARE in Thailand!" Very well. I will conclude on a positive note. Although our base is a rather austere abode, we have been afforded one luxury. Since the citizenry of Ao Luk loves learning English from dedicated pedagogues like myself, we have been given access to a country club. A country club that doesn't appear to have any members, but somehow remains open. Although the tennis and golf facilities are impressive (somehow I forgot to bring my racquet or clubs, they must have been the last thing left out of my pack), the club's main attraction is the swimming pool. Always deserted, we have come to think of it as our own private pool. We even have a security guard who wakes up to open the entrance gate and undoubtedly keeps a close eye on the place when we are away. Only in Thailand.

Relearning English

Saw-wat dee khrab from Thailand! My first week of teaching the fine folks of Ao Luk is in the books and it was exhausting. My comprehensive training program has focused on developing lesson plans, practicing language drills, creating class resources and refining pronunciation techniques. Given my command of the English language, it would not be inconceivable to think that my performance in these areas would range from strong to quite strong. Not so. I am diligently working my way up to mediocrity and the students are being more than accommodating. They are a cheery and loquacious bunch, and the class often takes on the form of a pseudo-social hour. Regardless of the lesson's focus or activities, the students will usually laud your teaching performance ("It was good" is a popular one) and give you a ride home in the back of their pickup truck. An additional wrinkle is that the class is mostly middle-aged women whom I can't decide if they love me or are scared of me. So obviously I'm fitting in seamlessly.


Aside from the intensive teacher training, the scenery has been beautiful and the company of my fellow English language gurus has been highly entertaining. In camp, we have a healthy mix of Americans, Aussies, Brits, Irish, Canadians, etc. and all have something to bring to the table (obvious cliche, I'm tired). However, the most popular member of the camp is Singha, the deliciously smooth Thai lager that seems to make its presence felt on a nightly basis. After a tough day of educating ourselves and an evening of molding minds young and old, I think a beer or two is in order. To be sure, I am not sustaining myself solely on alcohol (breathe easy Mother) and am being fed adequately. The food has been good, but very spicy (shocking in Thailand, I know). We have had an abundance of curries (green, matsaman, penang), fresh fruit and vegetables, noodles and about 2 tons of rice. Thankfully, rice and I have an long history of amicable relations so no problem there. My only issue has been with the spicy foods as I certainly don't have the highest tolerance for such cuisine. Thankfully, my digestive system has sustained the dietary roller coaster thus far and I haven't had the need to get out my health insurance card (yay me).

Despite my gripes about my lurching stomach and educational hurdles, I am having a great time in Ao Luk. This is a beautiful region that has remained relatively immune to the foreign commercial development that dominates so many other areas of the Thailand. The lush natural surroundings and friendly faces on motorbikes (often four faces under 15 years of age on a single bike, there don't seem to be driving laws) still make me shake my head on a daily basis. I am living in Thailand, which is something I never thought I would say in my life.

Rochester to Asia. Go.

In an uncharacteristic moment of impulsiveness, I decided to create this blog for your reading pleasure and to document the highlights (and lowlights) of my Asian sojourn. Feeling guilty about not responding to the numerous email requests from my parents, I opted to consolidate my communication from this side of the globe and allow my family and friends (as well as anyone who just maintains a casual interest in random people's travel blogs) to keep up with my international dealings for the next four months. If you could care less about what the hell I am doing in Asia, then you might want to just scan for the humorous situations, which usually produce less than optimal results for yours truly (read: my bad luck will inevitably follow me across the Pacific so enjoy).

My introduction to Thailand could not begin until I completed an arduous 30-hour journey through the friendly skies. Leaving the warm January breezes of Rochester was tough, but I managed to summon the strength to push on by reminding myself that I would have the option of stepping into a meat freezer if I really missed upstate New York. I entered the Rochester "International"Airport and, after a slightly panicked duct-taping of my pack, checked my bag through to Bangkok. With the abundance of black adhesive on my bag, I was well on my way to fulfilling the vagabond stereotype.

My flight from Rochester to Chicago (the easy leg of the trip?) was delayed for two hours because two de-icing trucks ran out of pink stuff and a third broke down. Let's see, freezing rain was coming down all night and you didn't think it might be advisable to stock up? I managed to squeeze myself into my spacious middle seat and, because of my brain-dead state following the 5:30 wake-up call, proceeded to channel my inner-David Puddy and blankly stare at the seat in front of me. The conversational options flanking me were a girl clad head-to-toe in black listening to music that sounded like a seal giving birth and an older woman who was already deep in conversation with the small canine in her carry-on. I think my actions (or lack thereof) were warranted given the situation.

Luckily, my connecting flight to Tokyo wasn't until noon so I was either going to sit on the plane or in the terminal at O'Hare. Despite the delay, I had enough time to peruse the newsstand and learn that Angelina Jolie wants more kids and Reese Witherspoon and Jake Gyllenhal went on a date. Good to know. As I approached the gate for the Toyko flight, I was greeted by a procession of firefighters as they exited the same jet way that I was to enter in a few minutes. Probably not a good sign when they are putting out fires next to your gate.

Despite this ominous sign, I pushed on and boarded the plane. Once in a blue moon, I do get some good luck thrown my way and this came in the form of an inexplicable upgrade to business class (Thank you Stephanie). Sitting on the 747 with people who likely paid much more for their seats than the unemployed paralegal, I had a fleeting moment of optimism (rare for me, I know) and settled in for an enjoyable flight. When I saw that the movie selections consisted of "Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2" (2?), "The Duchess," and "College Road Trip (featuring the incomparable Ice Cube), I abruptly snapped back to reality (albeit a business class reality) and hoped my Ipod would last 14 hours.

The flight to Tokyo and subsequent trip to Bangkok were uneventful, save for me forgetting my water bottle when exiting the plane and not remembering until two hours later (Asia: 1 Alex: 0). Upon stepping out into the thick, steamy Bangkok night, I quickly surmised that I could lose the fleece that I had been using on the freezing planes for the last day and a half (glad to see that Yale education is good for something). I got a few hours of sleep at the hotel, took a hot shower (last one of those for a long time), and boarded the flight to Krabi the next morning. Because of the jet lag, the only thing I remember from that short trip was the attractiveness of the Thai Airways flight attendants (two enthusiastic thumbs up). I was met by a GVI staff member at the airport and proceeded to meet the rest of the group of teacher hopefuls in town and pack up the caravan for the drive out to Ao Luk.

Since I am playing catch-up with the blog entries (and because a group of teenage boys has commandeered the entire Internet cafe to play a computer game that consists of shooting each other on the screen and screaming at each other three feet from my ear), I will end here and fill you in next time on my first week of teaching. I assure you that my efforts at educating the friendly people of Ao Luk will not be devoid of funny and/or embarrassing moments. I will also try to figure out how to put some pictures up. Luckily, I am in an Internet cafe in rural Thailand so I can just ask if I need help.