the transition to normal

i've re-entered the real world...sorta. for the first 5 weeks that i was here i was pretty much in vacation/tourist mode. i was spending most of my time exploring, discovering, getting lost, wandering, napping, carousing, etc. but since my teaching course ended about 3 weeks ago, life's taken on a different feel. i'm feeling settled and more at home each day, and feeling less and less like a visitor.

i've been on a relentless pursuit of employment and am happy to report that i've landed a full-time position in a highly respected language school, work permit included. it's strange to know that people are paying to hear me talk and watch me dance, but i suppose that's what teaching is about. i imagined when i first decided to move to thailand to teach english that i'd be spending my time sitting on the floor surrounded by kindergarteners teaching them their ABC's. i imagined doing arts and crafts all day with them, and getting sporadic hugs, and being doused with glue, and couldn't imagine anything better. and while i've done some of that, i have to say that my most rewarding teaching experience thus far came today - a 1-on-1 lesson with a 32 year old doctor. she wanted to improve her english speaking skills so that she could better communicate with her patients. after the experience i wrote about in my last blog i couldn't have been more excited to help her. at one point during the lesson i was trying to demonstrate the difference between the sounds 'd' and 't', and explained that it lies in the placement of the tongue relative to the teeth. in her quest to master these sounds she proceeded to bring her eyeball up to my mouth as if she were looking into a telescope and hold my lower lip down to better understand where my tongue was landing. we laughed at her inability to verbally differentiate between 'vowel' and 'bowel'. this is a very important distinction to know in a country where everyone always has diahrrea. at the end she told me that i had made her comfortable during the lesson and had taken away her shame, which is probably the best thing i could have heard as a new teacher.

other stuff:
my living situation is amazing at the moment. a woman with whom i studied during the teaching course has a house with her son (who has lived in thailand for 4 years) and his girlfriend. i'd visited them one weekend when i was still living in the hotel several weeks ago and felt just so at home and at peace with them, and in the house. they're one of the most generous, thoughtful, and fun families around and i feel so blessed to have fallen into such a wonderful situation. home-cooked meals, family game nights, the rent is cheap and the love runs high around here.

i saw a cart the other day at a festival that was selling ice cream sandwiches. it was a hot day, i'd been walking around the city for hours, and nothing sounded better at the moment than ice cream squished between two soft chocolate cookies. i ordered and what i received instead was an ice cream sandwich taken way too literally - ice cream in between two pieces of white bread.

during the final day of the stand-off between thailand's anti-government rebels and pro-government supporters that shut down the country's two major airports, i was walking home from the market and it seemed as if i was walking upon a concert. there was a stage and people shouting. but as i got closer and saw that the 'fans' were all holding baseball bats and wearing bandanas over their faces i soon realized this was no concert, it was a protest. luckily it happened to be non-violent at that moment.


there's a captivatingly enormous and beautiful statue of buddha near my house and i watched the king's birthday fireworks from his feet last week.

I seem to be living a mundane Thai experience. But I'm living a Thai experience and that's far enough from mundanity for me i suppose.

TIT

last week a mole on my shoulder started changing color and shape, and was starting to become uncomfortable. i'd heard that if that happens, it's best to get it checked out, as that could be an indicator of skin cancer. i didn't know of any skin/dermatology clinics in the area, so i decided just to go to the nearest hospital and have someone take a look at it. i arrive at the hospital, head to the admissions desk, and explain that i have a "changing mole." no one at the desk seems to know enough english to understand my situation, so i show them the mole and try to explain the concept of color and shape to them and they just look at each other with puzzled looks. as a last resort, i point to the mole and scream "OUCH!!!" they just laugh hysterically. finally a nurse comes to my rescue, sits me down, takes my weight, temperature and blood pressure and asks me to explain my condition. i point, scream "OUCH!!!" once more, and receive the same response, but this time she points me in the opposite direction and says "sit at 7." i look down and there are about two dozen doors lining either side of a corridor with patients of varying conditions sitting down the middle. i proceed to walk down the corridor and start to realize why my situation was met with laughter...during the walk to door 7 i pass several unresponsive individuals lying on stretchers, a man bleeding from his head, and a crying woman holding a limp child in her arms. and then there's me...with a mole about the size of a grain of rice that's causing me discomfort.

i sit in front of door 7 and after about 5 minutes my name is called and i'm ushered inside room 7 (general practice). i sit in front of a man wearing a lab coat - presumably the doctor - and he asks me "what's your problem?" unsure of his level of english, i go through the same pointing & screaming process. but this time the reaction is different - a look of sheer horror and disbelief sweeps over his face and he begins to speak to the nurse in thai. she, in turn, now has the same horrified look on her face and begins scribbling on her notepad. the doctor turns back to me and starts spewing a blend of thai-english to me in a very frantic manner. the only words that i'm able to grasp are "surgery", "extraction", "malignant", "cancer", "stitches", "suture" and "next wednesday." so basically they want to operate on this mole that appears to be cancerous the following wednesday? i don't really feel comfortable with the lack of information about the procedure i'm receiving, but i figure i have about a week to decide whether or not to go through with it, and i can always cancel the appointment, so i say ok. great, so the nurse escorts me out and tells me to sit in front of door 22. i assume door 22 is the place one goes to make future appointments...so i go.

after about 3 minutes of waiting, the nurse comes to me, grabs my hand, and leads me inside room 22. instead of the anticipated reception/appointment desk, there's an operating table. i try to explain to the nurse that there must be some mistake...my appointment is not until NEXT wednesday. she responds by handing me a gown, helping me onto the table and putting on her gloves. at this point i start panicking, trying to think about how to escape from the situation, but by this point the surgeon and 6 other nurses/aides had made their way into the room. i tell the surgeon that my surgery appointment is next wednesday, my final attempt at freedom, but he explains that next wednesday is when i will get my stitches out and my biopsy report. the surgery is now. at this point i'm crying because of the reality that the first surgical procedure (as small as it may be) is being done in a developing country by people with whom i can't communicate about a condition i'm not sure they fully understand given the range of responses i'd received.

one nurse preps the area, another preps the instruments, another holds my gown closed, another handles the anesthesia, and two others seemed to just be standing there gawking. the 7th nurse grabs my hand and i soon realize that her only role during the procedure is to hold my hand and give me comfort. for this i'm grateful. soon the tears stop flowing and i just prepare for the worst, while praying for the best. the surgeon injects the anesthesia and soon after he lifts the scalpel. i turn my head in the opposite direction and look toward my nurse-friend who's holding my hand for support. i find comfort in her eyes and touch...until she lets out an uneasy scream at the sight of what's going on on the other side of my body, and squeezes my hand as if she's the one undergoing the procedure. her only job is to comfort me and that's how she handled it. minutes later the surgeon announces the procedure is over, stitches me up, and sends me on my way. i felt no pain and it seemed like everything went according to plan. i went to the check-out counter, got a bag of prescription pain killers, and settled my bill. the damaged - including the dr.'s consultation, surgical procedure, and prescription - came to roughly $30. i'd been in the hospital about 45 minutes.

i went back this past wednesday, got the results of the biopsy back - benign, and had my stitches removed. the scar has nearly faded and the pain and worry from the mole is no longer present. this experience taught me a lot - about the hidden bias i have toward western, 'developed' medicine, about the inflated nature of western healthcare (time, efficiency, expense), etc. but all in all it made me appreciate and trust my new home all the more. i can't really explain it, but there's something about lying beneath a scalpel that's held by a man who you don't understand, and who doesn't understand you, with a screaming nurse squeezing your hand that just gives you a little faith once you've made it to the other side.

there's an expression that's thrown around here quite often - 'this is thailand', or TIT. it's typically used in response to a ridiculous or surreal experience one has that's uniquely thai. walking out of the doors of that hospital, i was hard pressed to rationalize what i'd just gone through in western terms, but found great solace in the TIT idiom. i welcome many more, just hopefully more non-invasive ones.

city life

i've spent the last several days of my trek just wandering about Chiang Mai just trying to understand what city life in thailand is like. thailand is, of course, well known for its beautiful white sand beaches and the bustling metropolis of Bangkok...but what is there in between? the population of Chiang Mai numbers slightly over 250,000, but its unfamiliarity makes it feel like there could be well over 2 million. there is constant motion in the streets - from motorbikes, to mobile food carts, to the scurrying rats - but i'm never quite sure where people are going. in chiang mai there's no rush hour. there are very few huge corporations, office parks, business plazas or the like to which employees commute from a suburb. the Chiang Mai structure of commerce is very different. it seems like the majority of people are entrepreneurs of small operations, such as massage parlors, restaurants, and mobile carts and sell any number of clothing, gadgets, fruit, jewelry, etc. the tourism and hospitality industries here also seems to provide a large number of employment opportunities. then there are a smaller amount who work as associates in the more established malls, shops, and plazas scattered about. but the typical office-oriented business person we are most familiar with in the states is a nearly non-existent being.

so yea, lots of traffic to/from who knows where. it's wet everywhere and always. not a day goes by that i don't come back to my room without damp feet and pant legs. but everything is extremely green as a result. it's definitely a city of contrasts - temples of glistening gold among piles of rat-infested garbage; the fast pace of traffic versus the generally relaxed mood of the people; monks crossing the streets with prostitutes. but what is consistent is generous nature of all who i have encountered. i've not once been harassed or scolded or shunned, even when i've committed the most significant cultural faux pas (walking into a temple with shorts on, crossing through oncoming traffic, etc.). unintentional offenses are never serious enough for anger. people are human. we are bigger than our actions. even the streets expose ripe teachings.

photos from around the city

jungle fever

i haven't figured out a very efficient way to upload all of the photos i've captured so far, so in the mean time i've provided just a sampling of what i've covered over the past couple of days. the highlight was the 2-day group hike through the jungle northwest of chiang mai. on the "trek" we visited a fairly remote karen (one of the several native tribal groups) village, rode elephants along the ping river banks, and capped it off with a bamboo rafting excursion. this album is just a taste of some of the sights: mae sot trek

day 1

after nearly 26 travel hours, i finally arrived in chiang mai around midnight last night. prior to my departure i spent several days in nashville, connecticut, and new york visiting with friends and loved ones from various phases of my life. the process of saying goodbye is never easy, but this one took me by surprise. i suppose that entrenched in this particular series of goodbyes was also a hope that i was also saying goodbye to an old me. i deliberately have no expectations or wishes for this voyage with the exception that i become a stronger, more aware, more conscious, more thoughtful, more tuned person than i was when i left.

i have a poor habit of second guessing my decisions, and this experience has been no different. we're facing an international economic recession...is this really the time for me to quit my job, relocate around the globe with no promise of a job or even permanent housing? is this really fair to my dog? i've had millions of these insecure thoughts over the past few days, but for every one of these thoughts i am presented with a counter-presence that assures me i've made the right decision. on the flight from hong kong to bangkok yesterday i sat next to a chatty austrian guy who stays in bangkok. we talked about everything from the thai/burmese conflict to the chappelle show, unpretentious and candid. in the midst of my apprehension, he assured me that everything before me was sure to be "magical," a word which suddenly gave me strength and replaced any lingering fears with a sense of joyful anticipation. he was reassuring and supplied me with exactly what i needed to step off the plane with confidence.

i arrived in chiang mai slightly after 10pm, grabbed a taxi to a guest house, and roamed the streets for about an hour trying to take in my first impressions of the city. it was pitch black and raining, and muted. it was a strange feeling not being within reach of someone who knew me, understood me, or would have any interest in talking to me. i wasn't lonely, though. i was inspired by the opportunity that surrounded me. to learn that language, the city layout, the customs...

this morning i woke up and when i hopped in the shower there was a small tropical gecko on the bathroom window. i came to terms with the fact that he might be my only friend in this town for a little while until i'm able to gain my bearings to start exploring and connecting. but i'm in no hurry.

today i've just been strolling around the old city trying to understand the street setup so that i may one day be able to ride my bike through the streets. doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon. the roads are jammed with every kind of vehicle imaginable, the painted lane markings wore off years ago, and the few street signals that exist are mere suggestions. everyone is polite, but strikingly aloof given the size and busy nature of the city. i had a type of noodle curry for breakfast and couldn't have been happier with this realization that my favorite dishes no longer have to be confined to supper time.

i'm off to resume my stroll through the city and hopefully get some good pictures. love.

hello and farewell

In December of last year I found myself in an awkward place - I was living in Boulder, CO and was happy. But I was overrating my happiness at the expense of not growing nor being personally challenged. The last time I had this feeling was in 2006 when I decided to leave Nashville and relocate to Boulder. So naturally I began wondering if it might be time for me to pick up and move again. Though I have no regrets about my move to Boulder, the decision was definitely one made in haste and flight. It was a good model at the time and I learned a great deal from that approach, but I decided that this time around I wanted to be slightly more methodical and deliberate about my next move.

For the next four months I dedicated countless hours to identifying my next adventure. I developed a list of criteria several pages long that my new destination must meet, which included...natrual beauty, the opportunity to work in a health setting with an underserved population, low cost of living, healthy job market, and the availability of potatoes. When my vetting and research was all said and done, I had narrowed my options down to two locations: Thailand and Idaho.

In one week from today I'll be turning over a fresh leaf and starting a new life in Chiang Mai, Thailand. My tentative plan is to teach English to grade school children for several months while looking for a job in a health clinic near the Burmese border. I have a one-way ticket, but I anticipate being there anywhere between 10 months and the rest of my life. I'm leaving all my belongings behind, with the exception of what I'm able to carry on my back. I'll miss my friends, my family, my routine, my bicycle, Fergi, comfort, burritos, and my life as I know it...but it's time. And I couldn't be more thrilled nor thankful.


(And yes, I have already submitted my absentee ballot.)