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Nullam arcu leo, facilisis ut! 1

Isaan Insider A Quarterly Newsletter! Issue No. 1 February 2013

A Eulogy for Slum Prejudice

The Thrill of Riding on Song Teaws

Weighted Landscapes: Climbing the Buddha

Meet My Friend

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Contents

Lessons From the Slums . . . 3

The Thai Life . . . . . . . . . . . 6

It’s Not (all) About the Books . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

Getting Around . . . . . . . . 11

All About Buddha . . . . . . . 13

Local Flavor . . . . . . . . . . . 16

KKU: Where All Your Dreams Come True . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

Glossary . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20

An Introduction to CIEE Khon KaenThis is the first edition of the CIEE Spring 2013 Newsletter. We are proud to present a compilation of articles from the many experiences we have had thus far in Thailand. From our first night in Bangkok to sleeping under mosquito nets in local villages, we’ve made some incredible memories together!

We have used numerous Thai words and phrases in chronicling our experiences, all of which are defined in the glossary on the last page. There is also a series of haikus scattered throughout this issue, written by Ben McCormack. We hope you enjoy reading our newsletter and can catch a glimpse of Thailand from an inside perspective.

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Lessons from the SlumsThe Railroad Communities of Khon Kaen

A Eulogy for Slum PrejudiceBy Nelson Falkenburg, Whitman College

When Ajaan Dave told us we would be spending our first home stay in a slum, I’ll admit that I was shocked. I was shocked not only because I hadn’t read the community descriptions, but also because the thought of spending four nights in a slum scared me. I had a very spec ific and misp laced preconception of what a slum was. I pictured a place with exposed sewers, rats the size of Chihuahuas, naked children covered in soot from fires of burning rubber, and a lot of improvised dancing. (The dancing may have just been a product of watching Slumdog Millionaire one too many times, but in the back of my mind I was hoping at least that presumption was true). I also imagined emaciated people without hope—skin clinging to ribs, and wide-eyed babies clinging to that stretched skin. I worried constantly about getting lost in this imagined maze of depression, poverty, and disease with no way out.

I found out a week later that my imagination had run away with my fear, eloped, and had a bratty imp of a child, which they lovingly named Slum Prejudice. Slum Prejudice kept growing, becoming an overbearing bully of a teenager, right up until the song teaw arrived in the Nong Waeng slum. We were greeted by round-faced, toothy kids who climbed all over the truck bed of the song teaw, grinning broadly and shouting “Farang! Farang!” And we were greeted by parchment-faced matriarchs, toothless mehs who grabbed our arms and escorted us to the homes we’d be spending the next four nights in.

The moment that I entered my family’s home, saw the beautiful concrete floor, smelled the chicken frying in the wok, and heard the laughter of neighbor kids playing badminton in the street, Slum Prejudice shriveled up and died. I felt incredibly at home, which was helped by the fact that my

family was living in The Ritz of the slum. Most of the other families did not have couches, a fish tank, a flushing toilet, a hot shower, or a washing machine. More importantly, I also felt at home because daily life wasn’t so different from life back in the states, and my host family really loved me. My host meh was very particular about how she prepared her food, and my host pah was adamant upon my departure that I visit whenever possible.

In the slum there were no Chihuahua-rats, the children were very clean (for the most part, you know how kids are), and the sewers were only moderately exposed. Still, the community continues to face issues of displacement, poverty, lack of access to water and electricity, and is legally under-represented. But despite all these issues, and even though there were no improvised dance numbers, the community was more cohesive and supportive than any other I’d ever experienced. As I said goodbye to my host family, I also said goodbye to Slum Prejudice once and for all—I felt relieved as I buried the casket deep and brushed the dirt from my hands. falkenna@whitman.edu

Miscommunication in the VillageBy Kayla Murphy, Tulane University

There’s nothing l ike the fee l ing of transcending a language barrier with a simple smile, a multitude of awkward hand gestures, and the far more awkward sounds of the farang attempting to speak Thai. Words cannot express the satisfaction I felt in my home stay with Meh Paiwan in the Theperak 1 community. I found it utterly amazing that I could feel so at home with a family that did not even share my language. Human connection, at even the most basic level, is a very powerful thing, and it was an experience that Melanie Medina and I embraced throughout our time with our host family. Now, let’s hold that thought for a moment and talk about those things that most certainly did not surpass the language barrier: the small, and sometimes not so small, miscommunications that color nearly any homestay experience.

There are the small things: waking up at six in the morning only to realize that we were up and ready to go an hour ahead of schedule. Or walking our way over to meh’s restaurant only to find that it had long since closed for the night. Then, of course, there are those larger miscommunications, like discovering meh is a yai on the very last morning of our home stay… that’s right, it wasn’t her daughter we had met , i t was her granddaughter, oops.

In the end, all of these misunderstandings combined could not rival the occurrences of my fateful first night in Theperak 1. It was an episode I had all but forgotten about when we assembled at our village exchange on the final night of the home stay. Toward the end of our dialogue with the community meh began to speak of that first night, and the details of it came flooding back to me. I knew all was lost the moment meh made a gesture at her rear-end prompting an eruption of laughter from every Thai speaker at the

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exchange, I was mortified.

You see, on that first night of the home stay my stomach decided to reject all of the food I had eaten that day. Melanie, being the kind soul that she is, offered to grab me a bucket from downstairs. Since the house we were staying in was wooden, virtually every movement can be heard throughout. Well, sure enough, meh heard us shuffling around and peeked out of her door just in time to see Melanie rustling around for a bucket. meh was taken aback; she didn’t understand the farang ways. Why would we take a bucket upstairs to go to the bathroom in when we had a perfectly good toilet downstairs?

It was at this moment in her retelling that I recalled just how cautiously meh had entered the room that night; I guess I would be just as wary if I thought some farang were upstairs using a bucket as a toilet!

We didn’t use that bucket as our own portable toilet, although I did vomit into it, sorry meh! For three days I lived in ignorant bl i ss of this hi lar iously embarrassing miscommunication, only to become the laughing stock of our community exchange. Take away lesson? That feeling of connection, as amazing as it may feel, cannot eliminate every verbal miscommunication. But do not despair, misunderstandings like this make for some of the best stories you will ever have to tell. kmurphy2@tulane.edu

Beware the YaiBy Eleanor Bennett, Middlebury College

She is scanning our group for a tall, meat-eating farang. My mind flashes back to our first ‘Culture and Etiquette’ session and I hear Ajaan Ooh’s words of advice, “Don’t resist the yai.” yai is the Thai word for ‘maternal grandmother.’ My thoughts are interrupted by the silence and I realize she is looking right at me. Our eyes lock. I press my palms together and incline my head in a wai, she wais back. I want to look away, but I know it’s too late. This is it. She steps forward, takes my wrist firmly in both hands, and leads me to the front of the group. Total surrender. Words are exchanged quickly in Thai. Ajaan Poi turns to me and translates, “she wants to know if you are a vegetarian.” I shake my head, “no.” The yai seems pleased. “Chai ka, in that case she will take you to her home-- she likes your height and does not want a

vegetarian” Ajaan Poi responds. My heart races as I wave goodbye to my equally befuddled peers and follow my new yai down the narrow dirt road.

Looking back, I now see that this initial encounter with my yai was only the first of many instances to come in which the women I met during my home stay in the s l u m c o m mu n i t y o f N o n g Wa e n g demonstrated distinct strength and

leadership. There were my pi saos (‘elder sisters’), ages 22 and 25, both married, each with a child. Noon was 16 when she had her now six-year old daughter, Yoghurt. Everyday, Noon and her older sister did the shopping for their family, cleaned the house, prepared each meal, and cared for their husbands, children, and grandparents.

There was my nong sao (‘younger sister’) who was 15 years old and woke up at 5am every morning to help dress her baby niece, and complete her household chores before commuting an hour to go to school. This will probably be her last year of schooling before she joins the hired-labor workforce.

There was my meh (‘mother’), who raised her three daughters with the best education she could afford and took on full responsibility for the health and well-being of her twelve-person family. She was in charge of household finances, supported her husband, and worked nine-hour shifts five days a week to ensure that there was at least 10,000 baht at the end of each month to pay for food, water and electricity.

In partnership with Mae Joy (another elder woman and unofficial leader of the community), my meh played a crucial role in representing all 148 Nong Waeng families in their struggle to fight eviction and government relocation from the land they have lived on for 15 years. During our community exchange she did not hesitate to speak for her neighbors and express her feelings on the forced move, “We [the Nong Waeng community] are not happy,” she said, “…we recognize the potential for improving the health and education of our community with the new lease, but we have an undeniable connection to this land and if we are relocated we will be far away from our workplace and schools.”

In our CIEE Thai culture and history classes we have studied the basics of the entrenched system of hierarchy that is a traditional characteristic of most Thai society. Under this system women are inherently below men on the power ladder. Yet, I can say confidently that this is not true of what I witnessed among the women I met during my first home stay. These women of Nong Waeng have helped me to realize that, like most cultures around the world, what has been labeled as ‘Thai cul ture, ’ i s as diverse and contradictory as it is rich and beautiful. eleanorj.bennett@gmail.com

Communication By Melanie Medina, Whitman College

Walking down the meandering street of Theperak 1 for the first time, I felt a little apprehensive. Just hours previously, the 28 of us CIEE students were given a brief rundown of the railway slums we would live in for the next four nights. For the last forty years migrants from rural areas have set up home here and now face impending eviction due to the planned expansion of the railway. We learned that an NGO (non-government organization) network is working with several communities to obtain leases from the government, guaranteeing assistance in finding alternative housing when eviction orders eventually appear. Some communities, including Theperak 1, have not yet signed a lease. The next thing we knew, a song teaw dropped us off on the railroad tracks, where we saw the tiny dilapidated wood and corrugated metal shacks we would soon call home.

Another student and I lived with a 45-year-old single mother and her two girls. We tried our best to use our rudimentary Thai- “What is your name? This is delicious!”- but alongside another American, it was all too easy to continue regular conversation, leaving our meh on the periphery, especially in a brand new environment where English was the last remnant of familiarity.

During that first night, after burning stomach pain, confusion over a yellow plastic bowl, and a phone call to our Thai Ajaan as translator, my roommate decided she would not stay a second night in order to get over her food poisoning once and for all. For me, returning to Theperak 1 alone meant a complete departure from familiarity.

“‘Thai culture’ is as diverse and contradictory as it is rich and beautiful.”

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With my host sisters staying late at school, my meh and I ate dinner alone at the tiny table for two which previously only my roommate and I had occupied. Between bites of pan-fried fish and vegetables, I had the time I needed to formulate Thai sentences correctly without distractions, conveying much more than I had the previous night. Inspired by our newfound ability to communicate, we sat down over my Thai textbook and read every chapter, going from food to hobbies to shopping to appearance, and finally to the last few chapters of our book. Forest, Gold Mine, and Landfill Communities, and most importantly Lesson 16: Slum. She would point to words on vocabulary lists, “Government/state... trouble… to evict.” And then, “community… to demand… rights.” She was reinforcing what I had been told before I arrived, and adding her own viewpoint. She pointed to “trespass… electricity… expensive.” “Future… want… enough/adequate.”

And her own story. 20 years ago, meh migrated here from a rural area. She lived as a scavenger, like many others, before finding a job as chef at a bus station restaurant. Despite two different languages and a whole lifetime of experience entirely different than my own, being able to understand and be understood by this kind, hardworking woman in the slum led me to embrace unfamiliarity. A lack of the famil iar did not mean a lack of understanding. medinamj@whitman.edu

A United Mittriparp By Melissa Nop, Colby-Sawyer College

The opportunity to extend my perspective of other cultures of the world was the most significant component I was seeking for when choosing to study abroad. The thought of home stays, then, was one of great value to me. What better way to understand the people of another country than to immerse yourself fully in their culture, live in their homes, and become involved in their communities? The first homestay was for three days in a slum community called Mittraparp, which is currently threatened by investors who wish to transform their community into an extended parking lot for the nearby Central Plaza shopping center. The purpose of staying in these communities was to open our eyes and hearts to these families’ lives and also to experience

observing any public health issues that might exist in their lives.

Staying in a slum community felt foreign to us, but the most significant difference between this community and my own turned out to be the characteristic that I respected and admired most: its unity. The saying, “the door is always open” really takes effect in Mittriparp. Neighbors and friends were welcome into the house, no matter the time. This openness was so apparent that on the first night I thought there were about 20 people living in my host family’s house. Soon, I learned that the others that had wandered into my new home were simply neighbors that wanted to stop by to say hello, use the restroom, or grab a bite to eat. The children were so close to each other, even if they weren’t related. This was illustrated through their protectiveness of one another, shown through hand-holding, the inclusion of everyone in their games, and their movement through the community in groups.

At the end of our home stays, we held a “community exchange,” which was an opportunity to exchange any questions that we had for the families, or that families

had for us. During this exchange, we posed the question, “What is your favorite part about living here?” Without missing a beat, my host mother responded with, “the unity.” The head of the community immediately agreed, and elaborated, explaining to us that, if anyone in the community were ever in need, everyone else would come together and ensure that assistance is provided and their needs are met. He explained that if someone were to pass away in a family’s home, that everyone would gather money to go towards the funeral and help in any other way possible.!

The clear compassion that each person possesses for their neighbor in this community is touching and unforgettable. Especially considering the threat the community faces in losing their land to investors of Central Plaza, it is impressive that the community consistently remains so connected. The head of the community had us all promise that we would return to spend time with the children. I am so excited to show up, walk into our homes, and to be greeted by a community that we have already learned so much from. melissa.nop@my.colby-sawyer.edu

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The Villains of Cobra VillageBy Hannah Damgaard, Susquehanna University

During one of many typical warm Thai days, CIEE students and our newly assigned roommates took a scheduled trip in hopes to spend a nice Saturday getting to know one another better. The first destination was to Khon Kaen’s King Cobra Village, located in Tambon Sai Mun.

Not knowing what exactly to expect, after about an hour drive we arrived at the village. Having first stepped off the bus, we were greeted by the villagers who handed us a four-foot long snake. After half of the group nervously handled the unnaturally calm snake and took pictures with it, we were all guided towards “the show.”

We all sat in bleachers and watched as six women came out doing simple foot tapping dances accompanied with rolling wrist movements. Eventually men brought snakes out to them. The women then proceeded to stick the snake’s head into their mouth as they continued to dance. None of these women seemed to be enjoying any part of this act from the look of their blank, unemotional faces. They were eventually called off the stage with a loud “ding” of a bell. Next, came the “snake masters” who used long hooked poles to drag out a series of four different 10-foot king cobras out of tiny wooden boxes. The men then proceeded to torment each snake so that it would snap at them by continually pulling it back into the center of the ring, causing arousal from the crowd. Each time the snake would try to slither away, it was grabbed by its tail and brought back to be continually prodded and harassed. The performances were narrated like a boxing match, which was fitting because the snakes were punched multiple times to coax them into giving a show. After the torment, the bell rang and the snakes were stuffed back into their boxes and locked back into the rest of their fated lives.

After ten minutes, I couldn’t keep watching and left. I’m grateful I left because I was told about the other performances, which consisted of the snakes being placed down the men’s pants as well as young boys performing as snake masters. I could feel and see the animal’s pain. Why were we brought into this tourist trap? As global citizens, were we meant to learn from this exploitive animal experience? Looking around the cobra village I noticed I was surrounded by multiple shops that all seemed to be selling very similar items. The store sold things such as trinkets, children’s toys, scarves, and herbs. Most stands were also selling different animals like iguanas, mongooses, and more snakes, all trapped in small cages. At first, I felt angered at the villages for treating these animals as if they had no soul. And then I thought, what would I do if I was born into the lives of these villagers and had to make ends meet? damgaard@susqu.edu

My Thai MassageBy Tanya Fink, University of Colorado Boulder

When I was handed my free coupon for a Thai massage, I ignorantly thought it would generally resemble the type of massages I’ve received throughout the years as birthday or Hannukah gifts. I imagined I’d be laying face down on a cushy table in a room full of water features with the sound of spa music and the soothing scents of candles and incense. I couldn’t have been further off.

Within seconds of walking through the door, I knew I was in for an adventure. I was given a linen shirt and size XL pants without drawstrings. I expressed my confusion and the employee and I laughed while she adjusted the waist for me by folding and wrapping the pant fabric. After getting my feet scrubbed in a small tub of water, I was led to a mattress on the ground behind a folding screen,

The Thai Life

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separating me from the other customers. Just before I closed my eyes, I saw a centipede crawl into a crevice in the wall above my head. Oh god. She started by cracking my toes one-by-one. Then my fingers- each one making a loud popping noise. Okay… so this is different. She opened up a bottle of something and started to put it all over my legs. The smell was extremely strong, almost like menthol. It was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Wait… as she started to massage one leg it started to feel very warm. It was similar to the Icy Hot/Bengay I’d put on my back after a rough afternoon of dance practice. Hmm… Just as I’d begun to relax, she shoved her leg into my thigh and pulled the other leg across my body and into the air. Ok, WHAT?! I muffled my laughter into the pillow. Again, she went back to what I considered a “normal massage,” but before I could get too comfortable, my torso was ripped off the floor and my shoulder blades nearly touched my feet as I bent in a sort of basket shape. Oh wow… The next forty-minutes went pretty smoothly, but as my session came to a close I was prompted to sit cross legged with my hands behind my head. I was scared. She took my arms, swung my body side-to-side gathering momentum and did one last swing and my entire spine cracked from top to bottom.

Despite moments of surprise and moderate discomfort, I enjoyed my first Thai massage and felt rejuvenated afterwards. I see my massage as quite symbolic of my study abroad experience thus far. My preconceived notions have been wrong 99% most of the time and my being caught-off-guard has occasionally left me feeling uncomfortable. However, I stand here today a better person for it and I’m willing and eager to fight through those rough spots in order to leave feeling refreshed.Tanya.Fink@colorado.edu

Thai Style “Sha La la la la”Corinne Molz, University of Maryland

After merely a week in Thailand, the fact that we were going to be living in a foreign country was still taking its time to set in. Every morning I would wake up having to remind myself where I was and that this was not merely a vacation, which is not an easy thing to do when staying at a fantastic resort complete with a cascading waterfall in the backyard. Our schedule was jam-packed with activities, learning about different elements of the program, and trying to get to know everyone in our group of 28 students. We were the only farang at the resort and heard Thai natives belting out Thai pop songs night

after night at karaoke. In an effort to respect their space (along with our exhaustion by the end of the orientation days), we would joke about joining in but it never actually happened. The last day of orientation, all of that changed.

We were having an American-style end of orientation campfire with hot dogs and potato chips, a little taste of the states after lots of rice and chili peppers. Of course, there was still pig intestine passed around in case we needed to keep our adventure levels high. After the sun went down and some games were played like miniature tanks, in which we essentially just ran into each other on all fours, the music started. Slowly but surely, the beat of the bass made its way down to the campfire and curiosity got the best of us. A large group of us ran upstairs to check out the scene, maybe sing a song or two, certainly not expecting to turn any heads.

The second we got there, the dancing Thais were pulling us onto the dance floor and posing for pictures with all of the farang. After that, all bets were off. Minutes later, everyone got to hear how much we love Spice Girls in the states with six of us passing around the microphone. Once the laughter quieted to a dull roar and we were filing offstage, I realized that the next song was in English, and by the looks on their faces the tune was meant for us. I’d never heard the song in my life, but knowing that the DJ turned it on in order to keep the farang singing and seeing the excited looks on their faces, I knew I had to at least try, even if it meant making a fool of myself (and it did).

Here I am, microphone in hand making up this song word by word with a panicked look on my face. Luckily, my friend Hannah jumped on stage and we rocked out with this made up version of the song. “Sha la la la, Sha la la la, in the morningggggg”, along with some impromptu dance moves and feather boas draped on our shoulders. The audience didn’t know if we were speaking Thai or English, but they kept smiling which is all that mattered. I’m pretty sure we made their night with our horrible singing, and they definitely made ours when we all danced

“Gangnam Style” together. It turned out to be a perfect night together, the group shared some great memories (including some embarrassing blackmail videos) and we were able to get a taste of the exciting Thai culture we couldn’t wait to be a part of. After that experience, I can’t wait for all of the crazy experiences that Thailand has to offer over the next four months.cmolz@terpmail.umd.edu

The Air We BreatheMariko Dodson, Occidental College

The second I stepped off the plane into Bangkok the air hit me, hard. Hot, wet, and heavy, it suctioned onto my dry skin like the kiss of a starfish. "

Hot, sweet open piles of trash sit marinating in the sun. At night the smell of warm cement rises up from underfoot and reminds me that the heat of day is not long gone.

Cilantro, meats, lime, fish, and curry, all beckon from open-air restaurants whether I am hungry or not. Smoky incense lights theair with mindfulness and prayer. " " " "When my stomach turns from unfamiliar smells I tell it, simply, to adjust. This is Thailand. My world of knowledge is, as of yet, too small to encompass all that the air carries with it.mdodson@oxy.edu

nothing bonds a group

like singing karaoke

amidst ladyboys

when passing on streets

particles invade your nose,

while loud sounds barrage

canals in your ears

and colors swarm your vision,

an intense flooding

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A Little Thing Called LoveEmily Balmuth-Loris, Brandeis University

Every child I have encountered since stepping foot in Thailand has been the absolute cutest nugget I have ever seen. I almost want to eat them all, they are so adorable. The little girls, more often than not, have a little pony tail that sticks straight up on their head, and bounces as they walk. I can safely say that most of the students on the program, at one point or another, have smiled and laughed at these children and their unbeatable smiles. The grandson of one of our song teaw drivers usually rides with him in the front seat. He is such a little munchkin and everyone on our program loves when he shows up. He always runs his little butt around the song teaws, and people (usually me) chase him. He has the best baby waddle out there, and his laugh can undeniably put a smile on anyone’s face. Most of the students watch him when he is in the front seat, as he looks back at us and

puts his hand on the glass between the students and the front seat. He puts a smile on many of the students’ faces and adds great excitement to our days.

He is not the only little angel running around. Every child we have met, thus far, has been so friendly and eager to play. Some of our highlights from our first homestays were all the children constantly running around. They

have so much joy in all their smiling faces. It is great to constantly see all these kids running around and playing games outside. In America, children are glued to any kind of screen: TV, computer, iPod, etc. Here, they still are glued to TVs, but the children spend a lot more time entertaining themselves in creative ways. Also, the inclusivity within communities here is an incredible aspect of the Thai way of life. In one of the homestay communities, a slum by the railroad in downtown Khon Kaen, the youngest girl in the community, who is around eleven months, is taken care of by the whole community. Her parents live in Bangkok, and send money home to her. She spends most of her time staying with two families, which are her relatives. She is well taken care of and definitely well loved. The idea of everyone being family and taking care of others is an amazing trait so many Thai people possess; I think Americans could take a lesson or two from Thai culture. emma@balmuth-loris.com

ReturningKaitlin “Kaiti” Reed, Susquehanna University

Returning to the one place that feels like home for the first time in four years is quite the experience. After all the security checks, terminals, flights, and long talks with new friends, you find that your plane is finally landing after a total of 21 hours in the sky. You step off the plane, go through customs, and search through the waves of luggage to find your one teal suitcase out of the sea of blacks and blues. Suddenly you’re running and being hugged tightly by the arms of your best friend you never thought you’d see so soon.

Returning is that hot, humid Thai air hitting your skin as you walk out of the air-conditioned airport to the taxi that is waiting for you. It is the excitement of your friends discussing the next day’s events that they have already planned out. It is your friend refusing to let you stay at a hotel, instead giving up her bed and sleeping on the floor because she missed you so much. It’s immediately getting back into speaking the language. It is 5,000 pictures in the backseat of a taxi.

Returning is your friends taking you to a club on Khao San Road that is filled with farang. It’s the silent agreement of role swaps as the foreigners come up to you with roses to hit on you. It’s the confusion on their faces when you say, in Thai, “What? I don’t speak English.” And your best friend saying “Oh, she’s from here. I’m from the US. She doesn’t speak English.” It’s laughing hysterically as they walk away, scratching their heads.

Returning is the surprise, and sometimes disbelief, on the face of every Thai person when you start speaking to them in their own language. It’s the long talks with taxi drivers and waitresses and bartenders curious about how you know Thai. It’s the random free food from the waitress of a campus restaurant who is just happy you’re there. It’s the sweetness of sticky rice with mango, and the spiciness of som dtam.

Returning is the bitterness of the taxi company not answering their phone, and the sweetness of running into a friend from Thai high school who tells you they’ll take you to the bus station. It’s getting off the bus after five hours and being bombarded by the hugs of your Rotary host parents. It’s the love you feel for the people around you. The love for the country you’re in. And for the immense amount of culture you’re submerged in. Returning is heaven. And leaving will be hell.reedk@susqu.edu

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It’s Not (all) About the BooksSa wad di brated Thai ka (Hello Thailand)Astrid Quinones, Fairfield University

Coming to Thailand not knowing the language didn’t seem to phase me when I decided to travel to Southeast Asia but wow, was I in for a culture shock. I truly had no idea how it would feel being a true foreigner. Everywhere you turn, Thai is dominating conversations, menus, and billboards. Farang can get by with ordering food or getting around the markets by using pictures, but the process can still be frustrating. Thai people, especially food vendors, make it easier with their eager smiles when they hear an American attempt Thai.

Reading through the program guide and seeing that orientation would consist of four hours of Thai language class every mor ning defini te ly seemed to be overwhelming especially after only stepping foot in Thailand a couple days before. It was intimidating to hear Ajaan Jeab explain the class structure. Not being able to speak English appeared to be the most challenging part of the class, but it turned out to be the best tool when learning Thai.

The most difficult aspect of Thai language class is speaking aloud in front of my pee r s . A l though th i s he lp s w i th pronunciation and grammar, it is stressful to make a mistake. Going around the room repeating vocabulary individually, asking, and answering questions directly are routine occurrences in the classroom. I am

an independent learner and sometimes it was frustrating for me when I could not take my time to understand a concept or section of the lesson. The class is fast paced and that was also an adjustment. Having to figure what each vocabulary word meant by using only pictures while waiting for a break in order to ask questions for clarification made learning Thai more than just a class but a skill to acquire.

With only 20 hours of Thai under our belts and our first Thai quiz fast approaching, the first homestay of the semester was daunting. My host family loved to laugh and make jokes but I did not understand them. I sometimes sat at the dinner table with Maia just laughing with them, pretending that I could understand. One night, they were teasing my host aunt (I think she was my aunt) because she knows very little English. She can say good morning, good night and I love you. It made me feel at ease to know that my family and I were both e x p e r i e n c i n g t h e d i f fi c u l t y o f understanding each other’s languages and that I should laugh it off, just as she does. astrid.quinones@student.fairfield.edu

ElementsBy Jill Alvarez, University of South Carolina

During orientation we all gathered in the meet ing room wi th the prog ram facilitators. They began explaining a group activity, informing us that all people fall into one of four element categories: wind, fire, water, or earth. The elements symbolize characteristics we portray and influence our learning styles.

After they described each element they directed us to lay on the floor, asking us to envision which element we aligned with. Following individual reflection we split into the four corners of the room, joined by other students who shared the same element. Although some felt their

personalities were embodied by more than one element, usually one of the four is slightly more dominant in influencing their temperament.

Water: flowing & flexible, emotion, sociable, adaptive, possessive, addictive personality, reflective, listener, indecisive, generous, graceful

F i re : confiden t , l ove s cha l l enge, motivation, passionate, enthusiastic, dominant, courageous, intense, hot-headed, proud, leader, goes with their gut, goal driven, committed, excited

Wind: open-minded, social, big picture, f reedom lover, ea s i l y d i s t rac t ed , compassionate, fluctuates, visionary, original, constantly changing, multi-tasker, inventive, active mind, scattered style, mai over worry, unattached, constantly changing and moving

Earth: stable, practical, persistent, predictable, rigid, aware of others, patient, structured, categorizing, rooted, organized, detail oriented

In our group, almost everyone saw themselves as the water element, while only a handful labeled themselves as earth or wind, and only one person categorized themselves to be fire. This orientation activity was helpful in becoming more aware of our strengths and weaknesses, and how we learn and contribute when

“It made me feel at ease to know that my family and I were both experiencing the difficulty of understanding each other’s languages”

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working in a group. I thought this was extremely helpful in becoming more aware of my own personality. Being conscious of the various elements that exist in group based learning is beneficial in understanding and recognizing each others strengths and weaknesses.alvarejp@email.sc.edu

Trust in the TacksBy Chloe Ginsburg, Drake University

If I had been asked to imagine what a “group process” approach to education would entail prior to the start of my study abroad experience in Thailand, I likely would have described a series of trust walks, ropes courses, and icebreakers no different than those I had experienced time and time again throughout my childhood. Surely, I thought, I had done all of these activities before.

During our orientation, however, there was one activity that stood apart from any other “get-to-know-you” exercise I’ve taken part in before. # There was a large rectangle taped

onto the floor of our activity room, divided into two areas. Three quarters of the space was covered with small rocks interspersed with bowls of water and tea candles. The strip along the edge was sprinkled with tacks. We were asked to pair up, and make our way across the course with our arms around our partner’s waist. If we touched any of the obstacles, we would have to go back and begin again. My partner and I noticed that while the pain might be greater if we stepped on a tack, there were larger spaces to place our feet between them than the rocks. #We trekked through the tacks at a quicker pace than we would have guessed was possible. Feeling pretty good about ourselves for mastering the risky side of the course, we were then told to blindfold and lead each other across the rectangle without our feet touching any of the obstacles…and without speaking.

After predetermining a system of elaborate signals (one tap to lift my partner’s foot, two taps for her to put her toes on the ground, etc.), I set out to lead her across the course. I tapped her leg once, and she lifted it. I positioned her leg and tapped her leg twice, and she rested her toes on the ground. Looking for the next destination, I tapped her leg once. But moments later, before I could find a space, she toppled over. I realized I had left all of her weight on her toes without a clear direction as to where she should go next. Meanwhile, she was forced to maintain her balance on one precariously placed foot while I faltered. She was forced to depend on me in order to move forward.

We returned to the start. Our system improved dramatically as she began to signal her hesitation or confusion, and I looked continuously for stable places for her to stand. Slowly but surely, we made progress. This time, we completed the course.

The “group process” is really a framework for how we come to trust one another with our thoughts, ideas, and actions as we move forward through the semester. When we create group rules and goals, it is not be restrictive in what the 28 of us can or cannot say and do—it is to create a space where everyone can come to feel comfortable working and sharing with each other as we grow together. And just as we were forced to support our blindfolded partners, we must support our friends and peers throughout this journey.ginzyc@gmail.com

“The ‘group process’ is really a framework for how we come to trust one another with our thoughts, ideas, and actions as we move forward through the semester.”

blast of Bangkok air

as anxious feet leave the gate

into the unknown

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Getting AroundTransportation in Thailand

The Thrill of Riding on Song TeawsBy Sonja Favaloro, Bates College

Whenever our group of CIEE students travels- whether it be to our homestays, “Thai fun activities” or temple visits- the ride itself is an adventure. We ride in song teaws, which are like small buses without seatbelts, doors or windows; just a roof and two benches facing one another in the bed of a truck. As we ride, we inhale every delicious and revolting smell we pass as wind whips through our hair and dust swirls in our faces. The sounds of kids yelling, dogs barking, and Thai music blaring are our radio. When the sun sets, we drive right into it, and though we squint at the glaring brightness, it’s too beautiful to look away for long. We sit facing each other, shouting over the wind, looking right into each others’ faces, and laughing as we hit bumps in the road and fly out of our seats. After a long day we sometimes attempt to sleep resting our heads on each others’ shoulders. The best seat on the song teaw is not really a seat, it is little standing area at the back where the intrepid passenger leans against a bar and is even more free than the rest of us to be immersed in the landscapes we pass. At bumpy times, this passenger holds on for dear life.

During the four-day break from classes friends and I visited Sukhothai, the ancient capital of Thailand, and paid a song teaw

driver to bring us to a site of gorgeous ruins. On the way back to our hostel, sunburned and happily exhausted from a full day of biking and climbing around the ancient site, our driver asked us if we minded making a detour to his farm. Slightly wary, but giving in to the spirit of adventure, we said “sure!” Before we knew it the song teaw was rumbling through rolling farmland where fields of peppers and sugarcane stretched to the horizon. The setting sun cast a surreal golden glow over the scene as our driver, delighted to share his home with us, cut us each a piece of sugarcane fresh from the field. Its juice ran down our chins as we grinned at the strange wonder of this day.

In a way, our CIEE program so far has been a song teaw ride. It is exhilarating because barriers of the familiarity and comfort of home are removed to make way for direct experience. Already we have stayed in a slum

community that only speaks Thai, held snakes, climbed a mountain to a giant Buddha statue and participated in a traditional Buddhist string-tying ceremony. This ride is exciting and vividly tangible. Sometimes the dust billows in your eyes and you have to close them until things clear a bit. Sometimes you wish the wind would calm down a little, and sometimes you can’t get enough of its refreshing, awakening rush. You look people in the eyes, speaking from the heart about things that matter and laughing at the things that don’t. You don’t see the bumps coming, and you don’t ever know exactly where you are or where you’re going, but you learn to enjoy the uncertainty. As my time in Thailand progresses, I am learning to trust the journey and find joy in the unexpected miracles of this constantly changing landscape.sonjafavaloro@gmail.com

kindness knows no bounds

when wandering the farm fields

of a song teaw driverwho graciously

invited us to his hometo munch on sugarcane

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The Streets of Bangkok: A Tale of the Tuk TukBy Keith Warner, Ohio University

The greatest moments in life are neither planned nor foreseeable. Eleven people who had known each other for but a few hours in Bangkok, Thailand, were in search of a way back to their hotel. Having heard the hype over the tuk tuks in Thailand, the group made its way to a spot where several drivers were waiting to sweep tourists off to their next destination. The next fifteen minutes would bring laughter, fear, and excitement into the lives of these American students.

We had seen many of these rickshaws zipping around the city, but for most of us this would be our first ride in a tuk tuk. Between our extremely limited Thai vocabulary and the drivers’ equally restricted English, bargaining was an adventure of its own. Once we settled on a final price, we divided ourselves between the three vehicles. Tuk tuks are hardly big enough for three people to ride in comfortably, but on this afternoon there were four people in two of the tuk tuks and three in the other. Once we were all stuffed into our respective tuk tuks the drivers wasted no time speeding off with much excitement. It soon became apparent that the drivers were in a small competition to see who could reach the hotel first.

Technically speaking, there are traffic laws in Thailand, but whether or not these rules are followed is another question altogether. The drivers swerved and zipped between cars, mopeds, and buses while simultaneously attempting to do wheelies. All of this was an attempt to make us speak the universal language of laughter.

There are many moments in Bangkok where the traffic becomes so congested that you sit at a standstill for several minutes at a time. During one such moment we witnessed a lady on the sidewalk screaming as if someone had just stolen her purse. We all sat watching and wondering until our tuk tuk driver informed us matter-of-factly, “That lady is crazy!” in his best broken English.

We then became alarmingly aware that our tuk tuk driver was growing impatient with the traffic situation and eyeballing the opposite side of the road. His contemplation did not last long before speeding off, leaving the massive traffic jam behind. As I looked back to see the other tuk tuks following directly behind us, a burst of anxious pleas erupted from the others in my tuk tuk, prompting me to turn my attention toward the mass of mopeds heading directly for us. Despite being on the wrong side of the road, the drivers masterfully carved their way through the traffic.

In what felt like a split second our first tuk tuk ride was over, and we found ourselves standing safely in front of our hotel. In the end, we were a little shaky but felt that we had bonded through this first of many adventures in Thailand.kw199210@gmail.com

The Wind on My FaceBy Dayna Hiyakumoto, American University

On our first day in Khon Kaen we were all given helmets. “The roads can be dangerous,” Ajaan Dave cautioned, “you must wear these whenever you ride a motorcycle”. I shifted nervously in my seat. Ever since my cousin’s nearly fatal accident, I was afraid of motorcycles. Thank goodness CIEE provided us with a helmet—the reason my cousin is still alive—but I was not about to ride a motorcycle. “I can just walk,” I thought to myself. But we were later informed that the Khon Kaen University campus is about 1.5 square miles and the Faculty of Public Health is 20-30 minutes away from our apartments. Everyone in the city drives motorcycles or cars, and sidewalks are hard to come by. In fact, the journey to the store or into downtown almost always requires a motorcycle. I quickly realized walking was not a possibility.

As our group began to get settled into the apartment, many people took their first motorcycle rides with their roommate. They eagerly donned their helmet and were off exploring. They returned with big smiles on

their faces and gushed about how fun it was, but I continued to avoid it. It wasn’t until my roommate, Kwan, asked me if I wanted to go shopping at Tesco Lotus (the Thai version of Target) that I was confronted with this issue. I happily agreed and began to leave the room when she stopped me. “Don’t forget your helmet!” Oh no, I thought. I asked her if we could walk and she simply laughed. “It’s too far, go get your helmet, we ride motorcycle!” she said. We walked downstairs to the garage and I slowly approached the bike. “I’m scared,” I told her quietly. “Mai ben drai, don’t worry!” she replied and patted the seat behind her. Hesitantly, I slipped my helmet on and sat behind her. Before we set off, her friend offered me some advice: “Hold on and sit like stone. It will be fine!” and she waved at us. The engine roared. I held tightly to Kwan’s shoulders. This was actually happening.

The wind blew on my face as we drove past pedestrians. I watched them as we sped by and they quickly became small figures in the distance. I watched the city move across my view, new things to see, as we kept racing forward. We even drove by Kwan’s friend and I turned to greet her while she was behind us. I think when I waved to her I also bid my fear farewell. A huge smile spread across my face. I felt like a real KKU student, driving side-by-side Thai faces, almost becoming a part of the crowd. But more than anything, I felt free—free to roam in a grand place full of discoveries to be made. I let my hands go, raised them in the air, and let out a small cheer of excitement. Kwan laughed and said I was acting crazy. I stopped making noise and put my arms down, but that grin never left my face. I instantly was reminded of one of my favorite books, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Because in that moment, “I felt infinite”.

one brit, two frenchmen,

plus nine americans means

near death tuk tuk ride

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13

Weighted Landscapes: Climbing to the BuddhaBy Kelly Hardin, Macalester College

It is impossible to understand Thailand without recognizing the centrality of Buddhism in the way that the Thai live and interact with their surroundings. One need not look far to see how pervasive the religion truly is. From bustling Bangkok to the smallest of towns, wats (temples), Buddha figures, and other religious symbols dot the landscape, even in the most unanticipated places. I have learned, for example, not to be surprised to see a towering, golden stupa gleaming in the sun next to the most humble of houses. I now smile at the serene, cross-legged Buddha statue by the side of a highway, his serenity unbroken by wafting automobile fumes and the hopelessly tangled power lines that obstruct his view.

By experiencing this physical manifestation of religion on the landscape, I feel that I am becoming more familiar with a core part of Thai culture, history, and psyche. The atmosphere that these sacred sites produce is extremely powerful even for one who is not Buddhist. This was especially true of Ubon Rat, which we visited with our roommates during our first week at Khon Kaen University.

The day that we arrived at the park, we stepped out of our song teaws and beheld a truly stunning sight: Before us, a long, undulating stairway stretched up a forested hill, with one of the largest Buddhas we had seen yet seated at the top. The monument’s tremendous presence was absolutely breathtaking—as was the subsequent climb up those many steps. As we ascended the mount, it was hard to take my eyes off of the serene face high above me.

About halfway up the hill, I wandered off the stairway with some members of the group to explore the surrounding area. To the left we found a small but ornate wat along with several smaller Buddha statues. Even farther off the path we found old rock formations on which stood several small monk dwellings. These rocks also formed small caves. In the largest of these caves, we found an altar of Buddha and elephant figurines. Farther in, we found spaces worn into the rock where monks had made places to meditate. This place was one of the most quiet I had experienced since coming to Thailand. The silence held a sense of weight and enduring time that I had never felt before.

Eventually, we made our way back to the path and finished our climb to the big Buddha. From the top we saw the stairs cascading below us. Walking around to the back of the monument, we realized that the hill overlooked an immense expanse of glassy water. Our ajaans told us that this Buddha was built to protect the reservoir below.

As we all piled back into the song teaws, it struck me that this place was highly indicative of ties to the land and the sacredness of this particular landscape. As we move forward in our studies of the relationship between humans and the environment, this space serves as a reminder that Buddhism is not on ly phys i ca l l y pre sent everywhere throughout Thailand, but it often reflects relationships that run much deeper.khardin@macalester.edu

The Ritual of GivingBy Judy Florio, Muhlenberg College

As the sun rose, my roommate and I hopped on her motorcycle and drove from our apartment to the bridge where the annual Khon Kaen University merit making ceremony would soon begin. Each year on KKU’s anniversary, students participate in this ritual with monks from the province, aiming to accumulate good karma for the university and ushering the school into another successful year.

Upon parking the motorcycle, I was swept along with the crowd to the road where ceremony would take place. In that moment it became clear that I had no idea what I was about to witness.

All About Buddha

C I E E K H O N K A E N

14

Roughly 1,000 students knelt on either side of the 500-foot-long aisle carpeted in white cloth. Here, the monks would soon process, accepting food from the students and bestowing blessings upon them. The sheer mass and energy of the student body caused me to completely forget that the sun had only just risen, and any fatigue that I had previously felt dissipated.

The chanting of the monks began at the far end of the road as we settled into our spots. A sense of silence and calm fell over the student body, and the hum of serenity that swept through the crowd t ranscended a l l communication barriers I had previously felt during my time in Thailand.

My inability to understand the chanting did not interfere with my appreciation of what was happening before me. As I peered across the carpet of white to look at a few other CIEE students, it was clear that they felt the same. Some of the most powerful interactions

that I have experienced thus far on my journey in Thailand have been those without words, and this was evident in the interactions between the lay and monastic communities on this morning of KKU’s 49th anniversary. Although no words were exchanged, the appreciative gaze between the monks and the kneeling students spoke volumes.

I could hardly help but cry to see each student beaming at the prospect of giving to the monks as they processed. It was a breed of selflessness that I had never seen before. As we emptied our food into the monks’ outstretched offering bowls, it seemed as though we were gaining much more than giving. Monks have no source of food other than what is offered to them by lay practitioners, and the lay may have no source of religious guidance other than what is offered to them by the monks. Each party had something that the other needed but could not obtain alone.

The ceremony eventually drew to a close and the students, all in seemingly high spirits, left to embark upon a full day of classes. The power of the event transcended that of a religious practice – it also seemed to stem from the number of people eager to give to others. That morning, Buddhism was the binding agent that brought the KKU student body together. Each student went with the same goal and achieved it in the same way – by giving.jf244463@muhlenberg.edu

The Buddha and the ThaiBy Avery Ches, Tulane University

I’ve come a long way from my first, what I like to call, “Buddha Sit”. I remember being in the Royal Palace in Bangkok at the famed Emerald Buddha two days before the program began. I was foreign, alone, and oblivious. I plopped down in the middle of the prostrating, bowing Thai folk, with my

White American knees pointing upward and my American feet definitely disrespecting the Buddha, so miraculously placed on the alter above, by pointing straight at it.

A kind but stern Thai tour guide with a hoard of Chinese tourists flocking behind her, all crouching in the proper way knees under body or to the side, informed me promptly, “you do not point your feet at the Buddha!” I quickly hid the monstrosities so casually laid out in front of me and took in my first Thai Cultural Lesson as an unknowing “farang.”

“Farang” is a term I have heard more than enough in my time here, but even more seemingly numerous are the Buddhas I have had the honor of bowing before. I lightly suspected Buddhas to be placed as Jesus Statues are in the U.S. of A, but in the Land of Thai, “shrine” takes on a whole new meaning. It is no secret that here, Thai’s love their Buddhas.

I haven’t been to a single city, and hardly even a single building that does not contain some type of Buddha shrine. And I have found the protocol is always the same: Shoes off, crouched walk in to avoid offending others already praying, and the solemn, modest sitting down action that is so effortless for Thai women even in the tightest of Thai skirts (below the knee of course).

I have seen Buddhas on top of mountains overlooking vast reservoirs, Buddhas hidden in caves, Buddhas in magnificent temples, and Buddhas on the side of the road stretching 100 feet into the sky. I have seen colored Buddhas and stone, new and ancient. The myr iad o f Buddhas seem end les s ly magnificent.

I have learned how to bow, or wai, in front of all the various Buddhas here, but more importantly I have learned to appreciate their splendor and the peace they bring to the people that sit before them, praying, meditating, or just sitting, as many farang

probably find themselves doing (not knowing what else to do).

I have come to look forward to every Buddha I meet as a time to center myself and reflect. And what a lovely thing that they are situated even in the most uncommon of places, for I love experiencing the bliss of mediation all

through the day here, and that is something truly special and most naturally Thai; something that I was most looking forward to when deciding to come on this journey.

“Monks have no source of food other than what is offered to them by lay practitioners, and the lay may have no source of religious guidance other than what is offered to them by the monks. Each party had something that the other needed but could not obtain alone.”

Riding retro bikes

as ageless Buddhas linger

in ancient ruins.

Soft light surrounds us

as we climb moss covered

steps.

Is this Middle Earth?

C I E E K H O N K A E N

15

A spiritual transformation is not something every study abroad student can hope to have in their experience, but I am making it a part of mine.aches@tulane.edu

The Bai Si String CeremonyBy Melanie Ferraro, University of Colorado Boulder

On our third evening at the University of Khon Kaen, CIEE put together a welcome feast for program participants, our Thai roommates, and the staff. Before the feasting began, however, we had the opportunity to participate in Bai Si, a Lao string ceremony conducted by a Brahman specialist. When we arrived, we found a number of grass-mats

forming a large rectangle on the concrete patio outside the CIEE office. At one end of the mats was a beautiful banana-leaf centerpiece with pieces of white string hanging down from the woven green leaves. Behind the centerpiece sat a man clothed entirely in white- the Brahman specialist. Each of us kneeled in a circle around the edges of the mat with our roommates sitting behind us.

It was explained to us that the Bai Si ceremony is one of the great cultural contributions of Laos and is often performed when people travel long distances. After an explanation of the ceremony, a long string was threaded through all of our hands, pressed together in the prayer position. The string was held as a physical representation of

our interconnectedness with one another. We listened to the Brahman as he began to chant- to the rise and fall of his voice as words of blessing rolled off his tongue.

When the blessing was complete, the string was rolled up and the Brahman proceeded to move around the circle and give us individual blessings. When he reached me, I held out my left hand into which he placed three fruits. I felt hands from those sitting around me supporting my elbow as he began to chant and tie a single piece of knotted white string around my wrist. The strings around our wrists act to tie our spirits to our bodies to ensure that our spirits do not wander away while we’re traveling so far from home. A person whose spirit is tied to them becomes whole and balanced.

When the Brahman finished the ceremony we grabbed some string from the banana leaf centerpiece and approached our CIEE friends as well as our roommates and gave our own blessings as we tied the strings around each other’s wrists. It was a beautiful experience- we gave one another verbal affirmations, commenting on some positive aspect of the other’s character, wishing that our fr iendship wil l be strengthened throughout the program, and that the other will find health and prosperity throughout life. By the time all the strings were given out, everyone was beaming. There’s nothing that brings a group closer together than looking one another in the eye, genu ine ly complimenting them, and honestly wishing for their success in life. After this ceremony I felt more strongly connected to our group and I look forward to sharing this amazing semester together! melanie.ferraro@colorado.edu

“The strings around our wrists act to tie our spirits to our bodies to ensure that our spirits do not wander away while we’re traveling so far from home. A person whose spirit is tied to them becomes whole and balanced.”

the orange kittens

that lie on the hot tin roof

offer distraction

in Buddhist temples

barefoot feet tread lightly as

calmness permeates

S E Q U O I A C L U B

16!

Local FlavorA Taste of Thailand

We arrive in Khon Kaen and venture out to our first night market Stomach jitters, we stand out like farang, no idea what to get.

Eggs on skewers, piles of red spicy (ped) peppers, looking delicious yet so bizarre

But who could guess I’d later be craving the famous Sizzler salad bar.I spotted my dinner order and was so excited to have an amazing Thai feast

But even with my roommate translating, I received white rice--the thing I wanted least.

Sticky rice, fried rice, and don’t forget the rice porridge tooPlease tell me, oh white rice, do you have any nutritional value?

But the vegetarians may just be clever, Eating only white rice forever,

Some meat has proven mysterious, Food poisoning, very serious.

We find that one rare breakfast restaurant open before noon, put in our orders and hope for the best

But no matter how great our awkward Thai speaking – pood – is, out comes rice porridge like all the restAnd then at my homestay I sit down to a breakfast of coffee and Thai pastries, but wait, there’s more!

My host mom brings an overflowing plate of white rice to join the other plates on the floor.Sticky rice, fried rice, don’t forget the rice porridge too,

I have a mountain of rice with every meal, do you?

Oh khow neow is so stickyBut careful, you can’t be picky

Because rice is eaten dusk til dawnAnd is something you’ll learn to rely on.

Khow NeowBy Aziza Seykota, University of Washington azizaseykota@gmail.com

C I E E K H O N K A E N

I am a farang

I accept it and love it

Farang farang we are

after throwing up

dinner in a squat toilet

you simply move on

C I E E K H O N K A E N

17

Meet My Friend By Jeremy Starn, Art Institute of Boston

Hey, how’s it going? I’m Green Papaya Salad. People call me som dtam around here. Originally from Isaan, I’m kind of a big celebrity in these parts. My obnoxious chili peppers will knock your socks off, and my zesty lime and garlic sauce will get you all hot and bothered. Some people prefer me with a bit of fish sauce. I don’t mean to boast, but you’ll never taste another salad like me. I’m pretty much one of a kind. Only a master chef can balance my intricate complexion. A dash of dried shrimp here, a pinch of palm sugar there, a few peanuts to taste, tomatoes and green beans galore and of course fresh chili peppers to top it off. Between you and me; I’m better shaken, not stirred. What sounds like a simple recipe can take decades to perfect. I’m the salad for you if you’re looking for a bit more sophistication, although those pesky farang never seem to get me at first. Probably because of their undeveloped, naive tastebuds; you could say we have a tenuous relationship.

One day I was sitting in the front of the restaurant, contemplating whether I taste better by fork or by chopstick, when three unsuspecting farang stumbled into the restaurant. They looked lost, probably some new CIEE students out for lunch on their first day. They didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. Sitting down at the back table the silly kids looked for a menu - they obviously hadn’t been here long. The first one mumbled something that sounded like sticky-rice and the others quickly nodded like dashboard bobble heads. It was agreed, sticky-rice all around. Then one lit up, and remembered a word they were taught at orientation. He yelled “Som Dtam” and grinned like he knew what he was doing. This was my time to shine.

The chef grinned and tossed in a few extra peppers, we were going to have some fun with them. Laughing and giggling they couldn’t even figure out where the water jug was. Little

did they know they wouldn’t be laughing for long. Those Americans always think they can handle their spice, but I’d set them straight. As I was placed in front of their bright smiling faces and I was almost convinced that maybe, just maybe these ones would be different. Maybe they would accept me...for me. A few minutes later they were cursing and crying, pushing me as far away as possible. Stupid Westerners don’t know how to appreciate a good thing. Oh well, until next time. Maybe they’ll get over themselves and learn how to handle their spice.jerjstarn@gmail.com

Fever DreamsBy Walter Wuthman, Bowdoin College

When my fever broke, I still couldn’t understand what the nurses were saying to me. That’s because they were speaking Thai and I have only taken Thai for two weeks. And I’m in a hospital with an IV in my arm. And that hospital is in Thailand. And in hospitals in Thailand, the nurses speak Thai. And I don’t.

Two nights before, I went to the agricultural fair in Khon Kaen with my roommate Little Arm and a few friends from the program and their roommates. The fair was completely overwhelming. Each stall exploded light from tropical fish tanks, or blared music, or had crocodiles, or smelled like the best roast chicken you’ve ever smelled or like the worst rotting fruit you’ve ever smelled. When we hit the livestock section and that pungent mix of bovine B.O. and rabbit poop hit my nostrils, I knew I was in for a rough night. My roommate drove me back on his motorcycle (I wore my compulsory CIEE helmet – don’t worry Mom) so I could pop Advil and deal with the nasty churning of my stomach.

By the afternoon of the next day I knew that the fever I’d developed during the night was not going away on its own. Forlornly, I walked from my apartment to the CIEE office down the street and turned myself in to Ajaan Ooh. In a heartbeat I was in the back of car en route to the hospital. The next beat, I was in a hospital bed surrounded by three nurses and a chicken sandwich and French fries. The dinner did not stay down.

When my fever broke the next morning, things began to make more sense. I was hooked into the same sort of IV I would be if I were at an American hospital, and I understood that the pills the nurses were giving me were “ant-ee-bee-o-tic.” I was brought rice and soup morning, noon, and night, and I wasn’t allowed to feel lonely – every hour there was a nurse to take my blood pressure and laugh at my Thai pronunciations of elementary words. A clean-cut young doctor came in to check on me in the morning and at night to ask about my body’s state and give me more meds and relieve me with the knowledge that I did not have malaria, or Dengue fever, or Japanese Encephalitis, or Influenza. Just a food bug.

After two nights in Khon Kaen Ram hospital, I emerged triumphantly from the air-conditioned lobby and into the moist, heavy air of Thailand. I took a van back to the University, and then confidently strode back toward the CIEE office. About two blocks after getting out of the van, fresh air in my lungs and a spring in my step, my foot caught a piece metal sticking out of the sidewalk. My flip flop stuck, my body went flying, my bag of antibiotics flew even farther. When my stomach hit the pavement I heard the shriek of two Thai girls from across the street. I stood up, and dusted off my hands, no blood. I looked at my knees, no bruises. I waved to the girls, no problem; “Mai ben drai!” I retrieved my jammed flip-flop, picked up my bag of antibiotics, and I walked back to CIEE.wwuthman@bowdoin.edu

naiveté abounds

when it comes to Thai cuisine

mistaken orders

with burnt mouths of fire

although one thing is certain

rice is never far

C I E E K H O N K A E N

18!

KKU: Where All Your Dreams Come True

The Agriculture FairBy Stephanie Pan, American University

After the string-tying ceremony, Khing, my roommate, invited me with her to the Annual Agricultural Fair at Khon Kaen University. It was a great opportunity to practice my Thai, learn a bit about Thai culture, and get to know my roommate. I’m a girl who grew up predominantly in Las Vegas then moved to Washington, D.C. for college. I have never been to an agricultural fair or a fair of this size before, so I was completely overwhelmed by everything.

I rode there on the back of my roommate’s motorcycle, and the moment we entered the Agricultural Fair, we sampled mini pancakes stuffed with taro and coconut paste—so delicious (aroi, in Thai)! At different stands, there were piles of fruit, most commonly found in Thailand, such as durian, mangosteen, tamarind, and coconut. Then we meandered into the cooked foods, where

satays, fried chicken, sausages, fish, papaya salad, soups, pastries, and many other indescribable things that I could not explain even if I ate it. My roommate was probably tired of me asking her “What is that?!” with every booth we came across. The air was heavy with all sorts of grilled smoke and steamy spices. No pictures do it justice, but they do show just how important a role food plays in Thai culture.

After we passed through vendors selling an assortment of trinkets, we came across a

section of the fair that sold fresh fish. Each booth had aquariums (opened and closed) of goldfish, beta fishes, and other fishes I do not know the names of. We later approached booths of cages filled with hamsters, gerbils, and bunnies. The next stop of the fair was a canopy-covered area of more cages, but this time--puppies. I asked my roommate if puppies were allowed in the apartments and when she told me that pets were allowed-- I was so close to scooping up a few of those shih tzu, golden retriever, and husky puppies.

We passed by a booth that was decorated like the “Wild West” saloon and found it surreal that it was in a Thai university fair. Obviously, we had to take pictures next to a Thai man wearing a cowboy costume. The last part was a fenced pit, where a crocodile was sitting idly. My roommate asked me if my university had fairs like this, an my response was, “Yeah... definitely not.”sp3253a@american.edu

awkwardly standing

in a blob of awkwardness

pretending to feel

awake and alert

as we exchange words

at the airport door.

one hundred degrees-

hot dry season is coming

and so are microbes

C I E E K H O N K A E N

19

Meeting PatBy Lila Singer-Berk, Occidental College

The first day we arrived in Khon Kaen, the event I most anticipated was meeting my Thai roommate. How will I greet her? How well can she speak English? Will she understand my Thai?

Both Thai and American students gathered at the CIEE office around five o’clock for the much anticipated event. The process was not as simple and nonchalant as I expected. We were told to line up on one side of the CIEE parking lot, while the Thai roommates stood on the other side. When an American student heard their name, they had to guess which Thai student had been assigned to them. We were given letters from our roommates that morning which featured a picture of them so we were somewhat familiar with our roommate’s appearances.

As we stood across from 30 new faces, I felt the tension rise. Names were called one by one and I scanned the line, picking out a face that looked somewhat familiar. After standing for what seemed like an eternity, my name was called. I met Pat and we were directed into a series of events that included grabbing all of my luggage, and dragging it up to our 4th floor room down the street. Despite the quick series of events and my nervous disposition, I settled into my new room and new home.

That night, Pat and I ate dinner with other Thai students and their American roommates and I was introduced to some of Pat’s friends. We spoke about our families, food, music and favorite TV shows. We even discovered a mutual appreciation for Taylor Swift!

We have been together at Khon Kaen University for about three weeks now. Pat continues to help me face obstacles, from laundry to navigating downtown Khon Kaen. When I reflect on the last few weeks, this first day with Pat still stands out. Meeting Pat was a moment that I was nervous about, but my anxiety quickly diminished after spending time together. This fear of not knowing what’s coming next is similar to so many moments on my trip so far. It seems that I rarely know what to expect from a home-stay, a thai class, a meal, etc. And yet, my fear about the unknown and the sat is fact ion from overcoming it makes many of my experiences that much more memorable. singerberk@oxy.edu

The International Food and Culture FestivalBy Maia Cole, Amherst College

A pavilion lined with food stands representing sixteen countries from all around Asia and Europe. Music pounding and people performing on stage. Hundreds of people sitting, talking, eating and watching. This was the International Food and Culture Festival that Khon Kaen University puts on every year to celebrate and learn about the variety of cultures present on the campus. The night of the festival was our second night in Khon Kaen, so our entire study abroad program piled onto song teaws and headed over to the fair.

Immediately as I walked in, I was accosted by Carly Rae Jepsen’s voice singing “Call Me, Maybe.” A group of girls in pigtails and pom poms were dancing on stage, but we didn’t

really stop to watch and began to explore the food options instead. The Laos stand had great, dark beer; the Chinese stand had crispy dumplings I could not stop eating; the Japanese stand had chocolate bananas; and the American stand even had mac and cheese! As we dug into our feast, we watched a tradit ional Korean fan dance, some American-style hip hop, and a scene from “Mamma M!a” performed by the English Faculty students at KKU. We listened as the MCs gave out prizes for the best dance performances and food stands.

After the awards, we all got our chance to participate in the festival. The MCs put on traditional Thai music, and invited anyone and everyone up from the audience to join in the dance. About ten of us joined, but of course, none of us had any idea what we were doing. I watched the more experienced dancers’ feet as they stepped and touched and turned and kicked, trying to pick up the dance without running into anyone. It was not an entirely successful venture, but once it seemed like all of us were finally getting it down, when they changed the music on us! Luckily, the two dances were similar enough that we didn’t embarrass ourselves too much the second time around.

As we worked our way through the two dances, I noticed that several of the Thai students who knew the dance had moved to the front, and as I watched them, they stepped very carefully and deliberately, teaching me and the other American students the dance even though we did not speak Thai. They didn’t need any words to show us the dance, nor did they need to speak when we finished dancing to tell us that they were glad we had joined. They smiled and nodded their heads politely, and I knew we were welcome here.

In a sense, this has been a theme here in Thailand – that words are not the only way to communicate. Of course, we need words to order food or ask for the price of something. But we don’t need words to express our thanks or our excitement to be here. It’s all in the smile. mcole14@amherst.edu

“...my fear about the unknown and the satisfaction from overcoming it makes many of my experiences that much more memorable.”

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20!

Glossary:

Ajaan: Thai word for teacher

aroi: Thai word for delicious

Bai Si: a traditional Lao ceremony used to celebrate important events

Bangkok: capital of Thailand since 1782

Brahman: a Bai Si specialist

chai ka: Thai for yes (ka is the formal ending used by women at the end of any sentence)

farang: any westerner

Isaan: Northeastern province of Thailand

khow neow: sticky rice, a staple of Isaan food

Khon Kaen: capital of Khon Kaen province

Khao San Road: popular backpacker road in Bangkok

mai ben drai: Thai expression meaning, its ok, no worries

meh: Thai for mother

Mittraparp: means Friendship Highway, funded by the US, runs North to South through " Khon Kaen

Nong Waeng: railroad community being forced to move away from the rail line

nong sao: Thai word for younger sister

Pah: Thai word for father

ped: Thai word for spicy

pi sao: Thai word for younger brother

pood: Thai word for, to speak

som dtam: a Thai salad made of sliced green papaya

song teaw: a covered truck used as local transportation

Sukhothai: National Park and Captial of Sukhothai Kingdom in 13th and 14th century

Theparak 1: community living illegally next to rail road

tuk tuk: three -wheeled public transportation. cheap. dangerous. fun.

wai: a traditional Thai greeting showing respect by bowing and presses palms together

Photo CreditsFront Page: Ben McCormackPage 2: Aziza Seykota (banner), http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khon_Kaen_Province (map) Eleanor Bennett (bottom)Page 3: Aziza Seykota (both)Page 5: Nelson FalkenburgPage 6: Chloe Ginsburg (both)Page 8: Emma Balmuth-LorisPage 9: Jillian Alvarez (banner) Nelson Faulkenberg (center)Page 11: Chloe Ginsburg (banner), Azizia Seykota (bottom)Page 10: Aziza Seykota (top) Ben McCormack (bottom right)Page 12: Eleanor BennettPage 13: Aziza Seykota (banner), Chloe Ginsburg (bottom left), Hannah Damgaard (bottom right)Page 14: Kelly HardinPage 15: Kelly Hardin (center) Keith Warner (bottom right)Page 16: Kelly Hardin (banner) Eleanor Bennett (bottom)Page 17: Jeremy Starn (top left) Ben McCormack (bottom right)Page 18: Jillian Alvarez (banner) Jeremy Starn (top right) Ben McCormack (bottom left)Page 19: Jillian AlverazPage 20: Jeremy Starn (bottom right)

Haikus written by Ben McCormack