Anthropology 201: Lessons Learned

On the beach in Patong, Phuket.  Don't let the picture fool
you - this beach was absolutely packed with tourists.

I’m still learning after nearly three (!!) months in the Land of Smiles.

ª      Where have all the men gone?  Most of the men here don’t look like real men.  They’re all these emaciated, skinny-jeans-wearing, sexually ambiguous, Asian David Bowies.  It may sound like reverse sexism, but guys aren’t supposed to weigh less than me unless they’re like ten years old.  This is a fact.

With some girls from M2/5

ª      After three months, you would think students understand that I cannot read Thai.  For crying out loud, they’ve got three different symbols for the “kh” sound….which until three months ago, I didn’t realize that was a sound.  The kids are forever writing their names on their papers in Thai and I have to constantly ask for clarification.  “Chu len,” I say to them, which means “nickname,” but I must be pronouncing it wrong because they just laugh at me.

ª   Some of my favorite nicknames:  Ping-Pong, Tukta, Hliw (However you say that), Um, Poom (This kid will be what causes my psychotic break.  Let the proper authorities know.), Fang, Poo, Pee (Seriously), Guitar, Pakbung, Golf, Sprite, Jane (Hey mom!), Sanook (This means fun in Thai), Baifern, Mistine, Fcci (I still haven’t figured out if this is real or if the kid is just effing with me), Pookie, Baitoey, Chompoo, Smile, Hondabeat, Sara (Holla!!), Porn (Thai for “beauty,” ironically), and Pancake.

ª     The kids are so violent with each other that were this America, they would, I kid you not, be arrested for assault and battery. 

    With students during the New Year's party

      Worry not that I’ll inadvertently (or possibly on purpose, depending on your view of me) insult the king.  Such an offense is punishable by imprisonment, and judging by what the non-behind filthy bars part of the country is like, prison is hardly somewhere I’d fancy going.  I really don’t even know enough about King Rama XI to even attempt to insult him.  All I know is that his people love him.  Seriously LOVE him.  I mean his birthday is a national holiday and Father’s Day.  If there’s anyone who doesn’t like him, I’ll never hear them say it (not that I would understand them anyhow).  Even stepping on money with his face on it is highly offensive.  It’s not that I’d like to insult him – truly I have no problem simply existing here for five months without ruffling too many feathers.  I know, I know, the idea of me not ruffling feathers is a foreign concept to many who know me, but just take me at my word.  I’m pretty sure though that as an American, I’ve always taken for granted the ability, the right even, to insult, publically disapprove of, or criticize the leader of my country, his leadership skills and his decision-making.  Pick a president and you’ll hear good and terrible things said about him on any street corner in America.  It’s just something you never think about in a country like ours, that you have the right as a citizen of the United States of America to voice your opinion about how your country is being run, that if you so desire, you can run down the street wrapped in an American flag with a tattoo on your forehead that says “Fuck Obama” and no one will ship you off to a prison camp.

This is Baifern, one of the best students

ª      People here should buy stock in Whiteout.  The students use it constantly.  And they never let it dry fully.  They just smudge it around with their fingers and write over it forcing me to later attempt to decipher what looks like a primitive Rorschach test.

ª     You know how there are those girls (and to be fair, some guys) so obsessed with bronzer but so lacking in brain cells (inhaling self-tanner will do that to you) that you can actually see the line on their jaw where their orange glow stops and their normal, human skin begins?  Here, it is the total opposite.  Being pale is envied.  Everyone loves our white skin.  Instead of bronzing power or lotion, they use whitening stuff.  For the first few days here, I kept wondering why the lotion aisle at 7-Eleven was full of toothpaste

ª     Everything here is SO sweet.  When talking about coffee, we do the ironic air quotes because the “coffee” here is SO not coffee.  It’s little packets of powder to mix with hot water (yeah, I’m the snob who’s never had instant coffee) that tastes like a combination of hot chocolate with a tiny bit of coffee and an overdose of sugar crystals. 

    This is what "nail enamel remover" does.  Sure, it takes off the

    nail polish, but it also inexplicably turns your toes chalky white

      One of the things I miss like crazy is regular, unsweetened, brewed iced tea.  I got English black tea the other day, thinking erroneously that “black tea” would be just like black tea always is – bitter.  It was sweeter than any Bojangles southern sweet tea I’ve ever drank and spit back out in a South Carolina gutter.  Even the ketchup is sweet!  And by the way Thailand, putting it in a Heniz bottle does not fool this Pittsburgh girl into thinking that it’s actually Heinz.  If I don’t come home with like fifteen cavities, it will be a miracle.

      Our visas expired yesterday.  In order to get the necessary extension on the visa, we need our work permits.  The work permits still haven’t been delivered – because this is Thailand.  No other explanation is needed, really.  Our coordinator called us the other day when we erroneously thought they expired a couple weeks ago to tell us that the paperwork would take too long and that we would have to go spend a couple days in Malaysia and reenter the country to get a new visa.  Malaysia.  Malaysia.  Cause that’s how we wanted to spend our weekend:  in a hostel in freaking Malaysia.

ª      You know what it looks like when you feed a baby lemons?  Their face gets contorted and they sort of shiver, and even though it probably counts as some form of child abuse, you can’t help but laugh hysterically?  That’s what it was like watching my students eat Sour Patch kids for the first time.  Priceless!

ª      By the end of the day, the students stink.  They seriously smell so bad it makes my eyes water. 

ª    There is phys. ed classes here – outside…in the blistering sun…and the kids are wearing pants.  It gets so hot, I want to walk around naked, and these kids are playing ruby in sweatpants! 

New and Far, girls from M2/6

ª     There are no tampons here.  That’s a lie, actually – one can occasionally find the tiny o.b. ones that come without applicators, but for the most part, it’s maxi-pads across the board.  Luckily, I brought a ton with me or I would have been on the first flight home.  I don’t get it!  And I feel so sad for these terribly un-enlightened women who think feminine hygiene hasn’t progressed beyond wearing a giant, paper towel in your underwear.  Score one for North America!! 

I’m sensing I lightly traumatized both my dad and Bob and possibly a few other men with the last statement, so I’ll leave you with something funny:

ª      Wednesday, Thursday and Friday of this week, the kids have been involved in scouting activities….by sleeping at the school.  Even though we have no classes, we have to come in every day and sit in the English department with the Chinese teachers twiddling our thumbs.  The five of us are watching a lot of television online….and getting paid to do it J