33...what a nice round number

Originally, I had planned on spending my 33rd birthday in some a metropolitan city. Singapore was my first choice, but I would have settled for Hong Kong, Hanoi, Vientienne, or Kuala Lumpur, all of which are a short flight away. And since we had a three day weekend on my birthday, they all would have been feasible. I hit several snags though by waiting until four days before I wanted to leave to book a ticket--flights were already full, not enough time to get a visa, that sort of thing. (One day I will learn not to procrastinate.)

So, I ended up going back to Koh Chang. You've heard about this place before. It's where I took Revonna when she was here in May. Where I got my first tattoo. Where the bungalows were so-very-ocean-front that the bottom step of our bungalow washed away in the night. Flights were cheap and the flight short and, most importantly, there were seats available, so we booked it. Sunny came with me and Daylin had a sitter for the weekend so we it was girls only.

Due to the late hour when we finally arrived on the island, I was getting somewhat crankus. The aircon wasn't working on the plane (no, it wasn't One Two Go). And to make matters worse, I had to climb up and over onto the dock from the ferry. For those who know, I don't do most upward manouevers very well. This particular endeavor involved climbing up off the boat (no steps), tottering on the boat's edge, and climbing up onto the dock over an expanse of dark water. From the dock to the land there was also a rickety wooden foot bridge that looked none too sturdy. I was feeling somewhat...ungainly.

We made it to White Sands Beach without any unfortunate toppling episodes. The bungalow where we stayed last time was full but Sunny was warmly greeted by the Thai proprietress with a loud hello and a big hug. She asked where Daylin was and offered to let us stay with her in her room. I think she was serious but we decided not to impose and she took us next door to Independent Bo bungalows. We had actually tried to check in to this place last time because it looked like a place with a lot of character. However, last time they wouldn't rent us a room. My guess was we were denied because we had a kid with us. My guess was confirmed shortly after check in. Let's just say the clock always reads 4:20 at Independent Bungalows.

A bit about the rooms at the Independent...the room cost was about $14 a night. Toilet paper was cost extra and towels could be rented. There was not a working window in our room and the toilet was deplorable. There was no sink in the room or bathroom. The toilet was one of those flush-with-a-bucket jobbies and it was positioned in the smaller end of the small trapezoidal "bathroom." If I was to sit on the toilet, my knees nearly hit the wall in front of me. And the shower. Over here most bungalows and guest houses don't have an enclosed shower. It's a shower head on the wall so everything in the room gets wet when you shower. I don't mind that so much but the problem with this bathroom was that the shower head was on the wall adjacent to the toilet. So if I was to take a shower in there, I would be wedged between the toilet and an unbearably rudimentary structure that posed as a wall. This was definitely the Hilton.

I think all of this squalor was even more apparent to me because I had been anticipating a weekend in sparkling clean Singapore, dining out at French restaurants and spending hours shopping in beautiful stores. But no, I ended up in a hovel on an island with a bunch of potheads because I procrastinate.

I'm usaually pretty flexible but for whatever reason I was in a mood. Thank god I eventually got over myself and had a great weekend. After a night's rest I felt better. In the morning, Sunny was up early and off to breakfast before I was out of the room. I went down to the front desk with my pack packed and had planned to go to breakfast as well then to find another room somewhere, but it appeared that I was marooned. The tide was very high, waist deep at the bottom of the stairs. (I learned later that there was another way out but I was ignorant of it at the time). I sat down for a while thinking the tide must go out sometime. The owner's wife, Fiona (from Scotland, 52), noticed my pack and said she was sorry to see me go so soon. I told her as nicely as I could that the room was not quite what I needed and she said they did have nicer rooms but they are up high. At this point, I didn't care. I just wanted a room where I could take a shower and brush my teeth away from the toilet. Fiona showed me the other room.

We meandered up and around the complex of bungalows which are more or less wooded huts with corrugated tin roofs. As you walked along, the steps would change directions, switch backing through the bungalows; they also were a composite of many different materials. At times, the steps were just crafted into the rocks of the seaside bluff. Other places, the steps were made of cement poured down the hillside with little footholds molded into it. Or it was painted wooden planks. There were branches and wooden poles along the way to grab onto if you took a mis-step. Nothing was even or straight, and everything was painted in primary colors of yellow, green, red, blue which felt very Seuss-like.

The new room was infinitely better. It had adequate bathing room in the shower, sea view windows, and a porch with a hammock. I was much happier. Then the weekend really began. I was working on a project so I went down to one of the tables in the common area and spread out my work. It was a second floor, open air room with the aquamarine sea glittering below. I sat there for most of the day and did some paper crafts. People would come and sit, mainly beautiful European boys on month long holidays. Eye candy. One from France, a couple from Germany, and an exquisite blond Danish fellow who must not have packed any shirts because I didn't see him in one all weekend. They chatted around me, their accents intoxicating. I was happy.

In the evening Sunny and I went out for a seafood dinner on the beach. Rock lobster, huge shrimp, corn on the cob, baked potato. Yummy. There were fire shows (Stef--don't tell Lizam about this; after he gets his black belt and becomes a bowler, I could see him wanting to do fire shows). The next day was we lounged some more and since I was on Koh Chang and the tattoo artist was still there, I decided to get another tattoo. Actually, two more tattoos. Sunny got one, too. This took up a good part of our Sunday. Between my two tattoos, I took a nap on the beach. The one in May did not hurt as much as these did. Holy crap! I sobbed a bit on the second one. I am not going to tell you what they are of this time; you will have to wait until you see me in person to find out.

The weekend started off a bit rocky, but after I waded through that part, the rest was perfect. I had a funtabulous birthday weekend.

The kiddies

It's amazing how creative kids can be when you just let them loose. A week or two ago, I struggled through the poetry unit. They didn't think too much of Annabel Lee (my heart broke) but they loved Shel Silverstein's "Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would not Take the Garbage Out." We read the Giving Tree which most of them had actually memorized and I threw in a bit of Dr. Suess as well. I have some very artistic kids so after seeing how rapt they were with the Dr. Suess books, I decided we would make books of our own. They are in the midst of crafting some amazing creations. A few of my student's poems actually brought tears to my eyes. I sat at my desk reading some of them, wondering how a twelve or thirteen year old could have already felt and experienced some of the emotions they so eloquently write about.

Now, when I sit down to write, it is not poetry that flows onto the page. No, no. I dabbled in poetry in my early twenties but not since. But I wanted to write a book with the students, so I chose to compose a narrative poem. I'm not much for rhyme and rhythm, so I went with the free verse option. The next post on my blog is the book I put together and gave to my friends here who have helped make Thailand feel a little more like home. It explains how Sunny, Courtney, Daylin and I have tried to create something of a festive holiday atmosphere over here in Thailand. Enjoy!

Christmas in Thailand

Back in the saddle

For my avid readers, I apologize for not providing you with much material since my return to Bangkok. It has been a strange year. My mind has been elsewhere and to tell the truth, there has not been much blog-worthy material to report. You may recall that I didn’t plan an October adventure this year because I was preoccupied with something that resembled a nervous breakdown. Since then, I have just been working and reading and procrastinating (I think I should take a picture of the pile of papers that need to be graded).

Speaking of pictures, my new camera is a certifiable lemon. I loved taking pictures with my HP camera that I dropped and broke in Japan. Ever since I replaced my HP with a Canon Sure Shot, I have not been too keen on the quality of my photography. There is a whole lot of shake in this new camera and it depresses me. I should go camera shopping soon.

I will post some pictures that my colleague and friend Gaston took. He has four cameras and an artistic eye which makes for some phenomenal shots. I might have to take some lessons from him before the year is out.

I'm becoming a true believer of astrology

Since it is my birthday month, I have done a bit of reading on my astrological sign. I think I am going to revive the old pick up line, “What’s your sign?”

There are some skeptics out there who say that horoscopes and astrological personality profiles are written in such a way that anyone can apply themselves to the description. I disagree. I find myself in awe of how I am quintessentially a Sagittarius. Read on to see if you agree…

Sagittarius the Archer, the ninth sign of the tropical zodiac, is a fun-loving masculine sign with a fondness for adventure (oh yes). Each sign has a planetary ruler, and Sagittarius is traditionally ruled by the fortunate planet Jupiter, the mythological lord of the gods.

Mutable, change-loving (definitely) Sagittarius governs long-distance travel, matters of the higher mind (philosophy, religion and the law), cultural pursuits – and having a good time (who, me?)! It is a fire sign, so Sagittarians are positive, forthright communicators who love traveling – although you do tend to be restless (this explains so much) and hate to take orders.

The Sun in Sagittarius favors social status, the higher mind and travel, especially
in pursuit of idealistic aims in faraway places. Sagittarians are idealists and usually much in demand socially, because you are like a breath of fresh air.

Search for Truth and Knowledge
Sagittarius is a dual sign, which has (of course) both an up and a down-side. The symbols for Sagittarius are the hunter (archer) and the centaur, a mythical half-man, half-horse. These signify the search for truth and knowledge, as well as the constant pursuit of adventure and new ideas. Intellectual curiosity covers a wide range of subjects, but you do get bored and restless when surrounded by dull people or circumstances. You would rather learn on your own through travel and experience than endure structured classroom environments and routine work assignments. However, having broadened your knowledge and gained experience in the world on your own, you could become an excellent teacher or administrator in the very educational system you once found so restricting (I could not have said this better myself).

You readily adapt to change and home is where you hang your hat. This is both a strength, because it is a survival mechanism, and a weakness because it makes you vulnerable to the demands and influence of others. Frank Sagittarius does not hesitate to give an honest opinion, which can seem tactless at times – although it is rarely your intention to be cruel. You have a ready wit and appreciate the humor in even the grimmest situations.

Energy and Enthusiasm
Needless to say, you much prefer to be the boss in any situation and must constantly watch your tongue in the unhappy event that you find yourself (temporarily!!) in the position of an underling. Before you assess the practicality or worth of what you are doing, before you sort out your true emotions, and before you take time to reason things out intellectually, you have a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. Communication-oriented Sagittarians are forever bubbling with energy and enthusiasm. Independent and hard to pin down for long, this is the sign of the bachelor, but even married Sagittarians seek to maintain some aspect of personal independence.

Jupiter, the benefic planet of fortune and good luck, endows a generous nature with a friendly, optimistic disposition. A natural politician, you like knowing everyone and going everywhere, for life is something to be enjoyed every day. Addicted to all the good things, you know how to get maximum enjoyment from them, but too much of a good thing can be problematic, and prudence is difficult for most Sagittarians to acquire. Being overly spiritual or too philosophical, for example, gets you too far out of touch with the real world. Despite heroic efforts to be prudent in one area, you can still manage to zoom into bankruptcy by overindulging elsewhere (overindulgence, hmph). On the other side of the ledger, your attempts to be prudent can get so far out of line that you can turn into a miser.

Enthusiastic Sagittarius has a passion for physical activities. One big challenge to overcome may be the battle of the bulge, when your fondness for food, glorious food and a good drop finally catches up with you (I was born this way people). A natural gambler and risk-taker, you usually come out on the winning side, especially when you try your luck at horse or dog racing. You love music, art, dance, and drama and have considerable talent in these areas.

Sagittarius rules the thighs, hips, and, to some extent, the feet (the damned stars cursed me in the hips, thighs, and FEET area!). Physical problems, however, are apt to be the result of unrestricted diet or an over-indulgent pursuit of other pleasures (and these would be...?). Sagittarians are also subject to an overpowering urge to gamble, which can be ruinous for some.
Your highly adaptable, dual personality can easily associate itself with both gems. Because Sagittarius is associated with bigness in general, flowers for this sign include the large blooms such as huge mums, hydrangeas, dahlias and peonies.

Change

Since I started working at the ripe age of fourteen, I have had thirty six different jobs. Yes, thirty six. That doesn’t count babysitting or house cleaning for extra money, but it does count the time I tried to sell water purification systems, the one day I worked at a diner in New Orleans, and my very brief stint and Busch Gardens just to name a few of my ever prestigious job endeavors. The longest I have worked at a job is three years (three cheers for Page Middle School) and I do have five different one year stints, as well as my soon-to-be two years at my current place of employment. But that really isn’t much of a track record. I must say, I am forced to do some of my best creative writing on my resume.

The idea that my astrological susceptibilities (restlessness, need for change) have negatively influenced my curricula vitae offers some kind of explanation to me for my lack of staying power in the workplace but I don’t think my future employers will accept that my spotty work record is due to the stars.

There is a point here. I’m not just waxing philosophical. The wind of change is upon me. I think this may be part of the reason that I have not been myself this school year. Last year everything was so new and exciting and eventful. Yes, there have been some changes this year—new teachers, new students, new apartment(s)—but mostly everything is the same. I know that I cannot pick up and leave a country or a job whenever I start feeling too familiar with a situation, so I recognized that I do have some power in the situation, I can make some small changes. To my principal, I expressed my interest in moving up to the high school next year. Teaching high school literature and composition would be challenging and I think I am ready for that. I have been teaching seventh and eighth grade (the curriculum of which are very similar) for six years and it feels a bit rote. And the middle school mentality is getting under my skin a bit (you can’t imagine how many different Thai and Chinese words I know for the penis). My query was given a curt reply that essentially meant no. I felt deflated. I also tried starting a writing group, an opportunity to work on a substantial piece of writing. But everything got in the way—schedules, appointments, fears, yada yada—and the meetings never happened.

So my decision is I am leaving Thailand. In addition to my restlessness, this year I have put aside my rose colored glasses and Miss Pollyanna optimism and realized that my school is a sinking ship. The teacher turnover rate is unreal; I think we had nearly of a third of the faculty leave last year. Immigration officers were in the other week and some teachers were asked to leave the property because their paper work was not in order (an unhappy office worker is suspected of calling them and tipping them off). Since school has started, the superintendent/upper school director’s secretary quit (she had replaced the secretary who has two law suits against the administration but is still working in the office as someone else’s secretary). The man who was the liaison with the Thai government took off in October. And one of the most important people at our school, Ms. Jinda, who has worked efficiently and effectively at TCIS for over ten years, put in her resignation for December. She’s the one who met as at the airport in the middle of the night and knew us all by name. She also handles our payroll, taxes, and flights to and from Bangkok. She is amazing and she is leaving. I don’t know how they will replace her.

At a faculty meeting, we asked the superintendent what is going on in the office and she said she didn’t know. Ha! She said to just keep on teaching and not worry about anything. More or less, she said it didn’t concern us.

So in response to the tense situation in the office, the school board has rearranged things a bit. The Superintendent’s title has changed to the academic director and the upper school principal is also going by the title academic director. A former Thai army general was brought in to be the general manager of the school. And a new business manager was hired to replace the other one. After all of this was sort of explained to the faculty, a member of the school board told us that nothing has really changed. Explain that one to me.

I hadn’t meant to rattle on about all of this. And I don’t think I explained the situation very well in summary; I would have to write several pages more to give all the details but, as most of my readers are hard working, employed individuals, I know you can identify as every job has its headaches, bureaucracy, and scallywags.

Back to the wind or change…half the fun of change is the planning and the endless possibilities that seem to magically spread out before me. What to do? Where to go? When? How? Some people stress out about that sort of thing but I revel in it. Oh, the possibilities.

I have decided that I will not continue teaching internationally next year. I am not ready to have my life and finances be consumed with finding the perfect international school, researching the country, paying fees up the wazu (or would that be wazoo?) to attend job fairs, and more or less pimp myself out and find a way to convince the various school administrators that I am their best candidate. Because, when it comes down to it, I know I’m not.

The smart thing for me to do would be get a job teaching in Virginia. I’m thinking Virginia Beach, Chesapeake, or Norfolk. I would rent a room in a house or share an apartment with someone for about five hundred dollars. I would get a newer Honda. That would be the safe bet.

But part of me is thinking I don’t want to teach anymore. Paper grading, lesson plans, differentiation, reluctant learners, kids coming to class unprepared, apathetic students, meetings after meetings after meetings—I might be done with it. I don’t want to teach just because I can, just because of all the holidays off, just because it is what I have been doing for the last eight years. If I was to continue teaching, I would want to feel that there is nothing else in the world I would rather do. I would want to know that I was willing to do everything I could to be the best teacher I could be. But, alas, that is not the case.

Ideally, I would like to break into the editing, publishing, copy writing business. Or magazine writing. Something else I would like to do is work at a group home or camp where I can talk to kids about things that really matter, life choices and self empowerment instead of subject verb agreement and comma placement. I know that both of these options would mean a serious pay cut and lacking the much needed two years previous experience in the field could prove to be a hindrance.

I do know that barring the unforeseen marriage proposal from a kind, wealthy Italian living in his ancestral villa in Tuscany, I will be home in June. To stay. For a while.

I wish I could take credit for these pictures...

Local Scenes

Snapshots

Halloween Party

Now, I can't exactly explain what is going on in all of these pictures, but they are comical nonetheless. Most of the people are teachers at my school, except for the pretty boys. I chose to dress up as an art student in NYC circa 1987 just because I had to wear the purple wig (I've been having dreams lately in which I have long hair again, sigh). My favorite costumes by far were the Power Puff Girls. Very cool. The LA gang member made quite an impression on me (but he would no matter what I think). I couldn't quite guess the girl's getup in the checkered chirt and pigtails--I thought she was going for Wendy as in Dave Thomas' daughter. I was wrong. She was going for a blonde version of Marianne on Giligan's Island. And the pretty gay boys just came as themselves.

Laos

You know you are depressed when you lose interest in things you normally enjoy doing. Since I spent most of October swimming in the doldrums of my psyche, I did not take the opportunity to plan a trip for October break. I was more or less ready to just sit in my apartment for the week, but my friends decided that would not be the best course of action for me at the time. So, I tagged along with Sunny and Daylin, as well as Sunny’s mom and cousin who are visiting from Canada.

Sunny had planned a trip up to Chaing Mai and then to Laos to attend the Gibbon Experience, which consists of a couple days in the jungle living in a treehouse and spying on Gibbon monkeys. Since I was a slacker, I didn’t make a reservation soon enough and didn’t go on that part of the trip. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise because when they returned, they told me about the five hour trek up and into the jungle as well as the leeches that plagued everyone. Yes, leeches. But I did enjoy traveling up north again where it is slightly cooler and definitely less congested than Bangkok. In Chaing Mai, we went to the Sunday market on the way up and the night market on the way back.

The pick up point for the Gibbon Experience is in Bokeo, Laos. Really, there isn’t much there; it’s just a sleepy little town on the Mekong River. Beautiful, relaxing, and slow. Once the others departed for their jungle trek, I just spent quiet days reading and writing. Since Laos was colonized by the French, wine is everywhere. Needless to say, this made me happy. I even saw boxed wine for sale which I never see in Thailand. The people in Laos are nice, but not as friendly as Thais are with foreigners. I ate most of my meals at the same little restaurant (they had chicken tenders and French fries) and the ladies who worked there were nice to me.

Bokeo was gearing up for a festival during the few days I was there. People were making paper lanterns and folding banana leaves into little cones for flower offerings at the local temple. In the morning I would wake up to hear the monks singing. People were practicing for the upcoming boat race. It looked something like crew, long skinny boats and lots of men lined up with short oars. The last morning we were there, Sunny and I went up to the temple and watched everyone bring their offerings to the monks.

The highlight of my holiday was that I read three books, A Thousand Splendid Suns, Water for Elephants, and Possible Side Effects. And I did find my mind in a better place after taking a break from the daily grind. Sleeping late and napping daily may have had something to do with that.