Singapore

Did Pizza Hut at home make this pizza for the Chinese New Year?
I think they mean business. If they put this sign on the Governor's Palace wall, maybe they wouldn't have so many trespassers.

Very trendy.
There is a really smelly fruit over here called durian and this building looks like a huge two huge durian. It is the Esplanade, a concert venue among other things.
This fire station seems kind of small town America to me.
The National Library. Whew. They are serious about their books.
This made me think of Charleston or Montreal.

Last year there was a teacher who would go to Singapore all the time. After visiting there, I can see why. IT IS SO CLEAN! Everywhere is landscaped and manicured, kind of like Disney Land. The way the ultra modern blended in with the colonial architecture was fascinating to see. The men are taller and very handsome, Eurasian. While I was there, it was mainly men who waited on me, in restaurants, Chinatown, even the massage I had was given by a man. Ooh la la! This was a nice change from Thailand where women almost always serve you.

A big plus (as well as a negative) is that most people in Singapore speak English. How can that be bad? I heard people complaining. I never hear people complain in Thailand. I'm not saying that they don't do it but I don't hear it. On a whole though, I think there is much less complaining in Thailand compared to other places because of the Buddhist belief that to want causes suffering so your goal is to not want. Anyway, in Singapore I had more than one person complain to me about how stressful life is there, how expensive everything is, how low the wages are. And yes, it is expensive. Think NYC prices.

And there are a whole lot of fines. You get a fine for not flushing the toilet. A fine for chewing gum which is illegal in the country. A fine for jaywalking. A $500 fine for eating on public transportation. The cops are almost always plainclothes officers so you can't just behave when you see a man in a uniform. It is a very controlled country. But I hear the counterculture is alive and well, even if somewhat underground.

I spent my time eating at lovely restaurants with the handsome male waitstaff, exploring Chinatown and Little India, shopping some but not much because it was crazy expensive, and wandering around admiring the beautiful old buildings and the striking new ones. I had a Singapore Sling at the Long Bar in Raffles Hotel, which felt like it was straight out of the Bombay Company. It had those spade-shaped straw fans lazily rotating on the ceiling, the kind that servants would have been manning one hundred years ago, fanning white men in their cream linen suits smoking cigars and sipping brandy. Lots of dark wood. Classic. Colonial.

I went out one night and felt extremely old. The drinking age in Singapore is 18 and a whole table of kids walked into this fabulous club Le Baroque. They looked 15, I swear. And they were ordering bottles of whiskey! I wanted to know where their mothers were.

Fickle

Back in January, I started the job search. Since I had decided to return to the states next year, I figured it was time to get all my paper work in order. I started looking at different school districts in Virginia, pay, SOL scores, demographics of students, affordable housing in the different areas. I was looking at the application procedure for Virginia Beach Schools and was distressed to read that "grade point averages, student teaching evaluations, references, and interview ratings are used to form a pool of qualified applicants. " Grade point averages? I have been teaching for eight years and they want to look at my GPA? Depressing.

No job vacancies were listed that early so I decided to start updating my resume. Only problem was I couldn't find my resume. Ugh. And where are my Praxis scores? Who do I have to ask for reference letters from again?

I am not ready package, polish, and sell myself again.

In the end, I changed my mind again. I figured I can suffer through administration for another year. It will look better on my resume to have a three year stint instead of a two year stint at a school. And besides, it could always be worse at the next place. At my current school, at least teachers are given much freedom in regards to what they teach and how they teach. I don't know how I would do with a prescribed way of teaching. So, I am staying after all. Over the summer, I will get my ducks in a row so that I can start the search for another international school for the 2009-2010 school year.

What this means is more cheap shopping, pedicures, massages, island holidays, and more travel! Sunny will be in Venezuela next year...I might have to meet her in Trinidad.

January 31, 2007

Traditional Thai dancing. The Thai people are forever resourceful. The lights the girl is holding are made out of water bottles cut to look like flowers.

A Thai fire balloon. These are amazing, especially when there are hundreds of them in the sky at one time.
More Thai dancing. Check out those nails!
Sunny, Daylin and me in our fancy Western party hats and our ornamental Thai flowers.

So, I'm a little late getting this post up. It's been a busy and crazy two months. If you remember, I was down in Southern Thailand on an island for the Christmas holiday. It is a quiet island with not too many tourists. The place we stayed put on a big New Year's Eve dinner complete with Thai dancing. The girls had obviously practiced for a long time. Their families from the neighboring village came to watch. Wrapped in their head scarves and standing on the on the edge of all the festivities, the mothers looked so proud of their babies.

After the Thai dancing, the karaoke started. Oh boy. What is it about Asians and karaoke? There were some pretty good performances though. A mousy German woman psychologist really belted one out and it was great. And the whole time they were on the island, I was thinking her husband was the rock star. Go figure. I sang something but it was very, very bad. I Just Called to Say I Love You (the choices were very limited). That was the first and last time I will ever do karaoke.

When midnight rolled around, all the Thai people starting singing a Thai song. Then it was onto the beach to do some fireworks and the fireballoons. The fireballoon is a tradition here for special occasions. In some places, hundreds of them are released at the same time and the sky is filled with floating candles. It is a beautiful sight. Even with the few that we had, it was still remarkable. I like the symbolism of floating something into the sky, letting go. The whole thing made me a little teary eyed, even now.

Koh Libong

After a meager Christmas celebration in Bangkok, Sunny, Daylin, and I headed down south to a remote island in the Andaman Sea for the rest of our holiday. There are plenty of beaches in Thailand over-populated by foreigners on holiday—blonde, Swedish, twenty-somethings in bikinis, buff backpackers sleeping in hammocks—but we were looking for someplace a little more low key to bring in the New Year. Somewhere removed from the usual hullabaloo associated with the more touristy destinations.

And boy did we find it. Koh Libong is nestled amongst the other 98 islands in the Andaman Sea. The majority of the 2000 Thai citizens on the island are Muslim, evidenced by the thrice daily prayers that could be heard floating through the air from the nearby mosque as well as the women wrapped up in multi-colored head coverings. A very different feel from the largely Buddhist population here in Bangkok. There are two resorts on the island (and I use ‘resort’ loosely here) which did not have more than thirty guests at one time the whole nine days we were there. It took us sixteen hours on an overnight train, one hour in a mini bus, and forty five minutes in a boat to arrive to our destination.

Most of the island consists of untouched jungle. Our resort was located next to a small Thai village but the bigger village was located on the other side of the island, accessible by fifteen minutes on a motorbike or by boat. There were no ATM’s on the island, no 7-11’s, no Western Unions. In the village, there were little stores at the front end of people’s homes where you could get the basic necessities; of which I was surprised to see body-shaper underwear. I found this sadly funny. That even far far away from modern civilization, women still feel the need to suck in their tummies and minimize their rear end jiggle. Strange. There were also some large, flat screened televisions in some of the cement block homes; I imagine they caused quite a stir upon their arrival, comparable almost to the opening of Ame’s in West Point circa 1988.

The electricity for the bungalows was run on generator power which only came on at night. We ate at the same restaurant for the whole time we were there; fortunately, the place served up some tasty Thai food. The cheeseburger was another story though, especially since there was no beef on the island due to religious restrictions. It was an egg battered chicken sandwich. How do you get hamburger out of that? One day, I walked down to the other ‘resort’ and was greeted by a fairly large snake which scared the begeebies out of me. I guess with a tropical island, you get tropical wildlife as well.

The few tourists that were on Koh Libong were of a different breed than I am used to meeting in Thailand. More families and career oriented people, less kids on holiday with their parent’s credit card. General practitioners, dentists, psychologists, NGO’s and engineers traveling with their spouses and children. It made for a totally different atmosphere. Very mellow. Quiet. Perhaps a little too quite at times. And since there was nowhere to go, the daily routine settled into wake up, breakfast, read, nap, lunch, lounge on the beach, read, dinner, night cap and then bed. A real vacation.

Finding Nemo

I don’t want to give you the impression that life on a tropical island is boring. I definitely wasn’t wishing to be anyplace else. And there was one opportunity for adventure and that was to hire a boat and go snorkeling. I had never been snorkeling before this trip so I was pretty excited. On New Year’s Eve we hired a long tail boat with what looked like a lawn mower engine rigged up on the back of it that took us out and about in the sea. A British family went with us, two doctors and their seven and twelve year old daughters. First we went to the Emerald Cave. Holding on to each other’s life jackets, we swam through a pitch dark cave (quite scary actually) that led to an enchanted cove. Once upon a time, the cove was used by pirates to stash their illicit booty. It was truly a magically beautiful place. Removed from everything. An enclosed room that opened up to the sky.

After that, our captain (who would kill the engine to take a call on his mobile phone at the drop of a hat) motored us over to a fabulous spot for snorkeling. I was the next to last one to exit the boat, left alone only with the male Dr. Mackenzie. The others had disembarked using the ladder but I didn’t want to take that route. I just didn’t feel comfortable climbing down a small ladder that Barbie would have used to climb off of Ken’s yacht. So, after consulting with the doctor on the depth of the water (sure it’s deep enough), I jumped right in with my mask on. Once submerged, I took in the green blue wonder of the silent ocean as it passed by with an almost dream-like quality. The little fishees swimming about, the coral flowering everywhere. I kept sinking slowly until CRASH, my left knee slammed into the coral. The coral, which looks like it is leafy and soft, almost as if it would flutter with the water’s current, is actually rock hard and alive with poison. Its surface is jagged and sharp, allowing it to rip into the skin with knife like precision. Good thing I didn’t dive in head first, huh?

I floated back up to the surface and tried to act like nothing happened. I don’t think I did a very good job at that. The doctor asked if I was okay, my pain manifesting itself in a grimace on my face. I didn’t want to cry. Thai people don’t often show their emotions and I didn’t want to be the blubbering idiot of a foreigner and I surely didn’t want to ruin the outing for the others in the snorkeling clan. So I clung to the ladder and just bobbed about for a bit while my knee bled into the water. Salt water might be good for an open wound but let me tell you, it stung like hell. I stayed in the sea for as long as I could take the stinging before attempting the blasted latter. If it was just a smaller version of a ladder that would be one thing, but I don’t think there were enough steps on this ladder. Step implies that you just step and then go up; instead for this ladder I had to pull my knees up to my chest to reach the bottom rung, grab on to the top of the ladder and then pull the rest of my bodyweight up using my arms. That would assume that the user had some upper body strength. And as Coach Schaffer (nightmare gym coach from seventh grade) could tell you, upper body strength is not my strong suit—I held the record for zero seconds on the bar hang; go me.

After a humiliatingly heave of my corpulence over the side of the boat, I continued to bleed profusely into the boat. I was particularly aware of my bloody leg because we were out with two doctors and their small children. I’ve had enough OSHA training to know about blood borne diseases, and I figured this might be going through their minds as well. I should mention that this was not the kind of boat that kept rubber gloves handy. Nor was there a first aid kit for that matter. The captain and his mate gave me concerned looks to which I just smiled, nodded my head. Ignoring my half hearted attempts to affirm my well-being, they flagged down another boat and borrowed a first aid kid, broke out the gauze and iodine solution, began pouring and dabbing away. More stinging.

Nearly two weeks later, my knee is still giving me trouble. Angry red, scar-like tissue that itches constantly covers my knee now. It feels like it has been badly bruised but there isn’t discoloration like a bruise. When I bend my knee, it hurts. Bad. Some scabbing that isn’t healing too well is also evident. So, I don’t think I will go snorkeling again anytime soon. I did get back in the water later in the day, trying to salvage the trip a bit, and I did see some beautiful fish (like the ones in the pictures). But I stayed far away from the malicious coral.

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!