The Return of Hot Water

As I rode my bicycle along the river from school to the post office this afternoon, the smoke blowing into my face along with the hot wind, I realized that it will be several months before I am cool again! We had quite a respite over recent months. Beginning mid-December, when temperatures in our northern region started dropping below 55 degrees at night, we had a very comfortable "cold" season. Days were pleasantly warm, if not cool, and nights required layers of socks, sweatshirts, and thick comforters.

The drawback of the cold season, however, is that our showers got a little cold, too. Our little hot water heater is not too powerful, and it is no match for "wintry" weather. If we waited to shower until the sun had been up for an hour or two, and kept the water pressure very low, it usually managed to bring the very cold water up to a more standard room temperature. Combined with the cold air filling our house, this made for a series of illnesses (sore throats, head colds, etc) on our part. Needless to say, we were not bathing more than once a day if we could help it.

Now we’ve had three straight days of temperatures in the 90s, though, and as a result our shower has warmed up nicely. It’s hard to say what is more difficult to endure: pleasantly cold air temperatures with cold showers, or sweltering hot temperature with hot showers? I really can’t decide.

In any case, I know that we’ve got less than two months left in Southeast Asia. So while we might be finishing our Peace Corps service during the hottest months of the year, we can anticipate spring temperatures when we return to the USA in April. That will give us just enough time to recover before facing a hot, humid Minnesota summer!

[The photos, as you might guess, show our bathroom. Just for fun. Yes, the shower does just go all over the floor. That’s typical in Thailand for all but the wealthiest of homes.]

Personal Feature: Pi Noy

A few weeks ago I wrote about how our friend at the school district office, Pi Noy, enjoys making lunch for us sometimes on Wednesdays. Today I’ll write a little more about Pi Noy herself.

Pi Noy, whose real name is Payom, was born one of six children in a village just outside of our town. Her father worked in and eventually owned an orchard nearby. Their house was on the same piece of land on which Pi Noy currently lives. She attended school in town, and grew to adulthood developing a very strong sense of values, including modesty, moderation, and responsibility towards home and family.

After finishing high school, Pi Noy attended teacher college in Isaan – the northeastern region of Thailand – and earned a teaching degree. While working in a school district office, she met a tall young teacher named Weera. Friends assured her it was the perfect match, as they shared the same powerful sense of responsibility and traditional values. They were married and had two sons, O and A, before moving back to Pi Noy’s home village. Today he is a principal at one of the local schools, and she works in the Policy & Planning department of the district office. Their sons, now teenagers, attend school far away, though one is close enough to visit many weekends.

I first met Pi Noy in April of 2005 at the office. She came to me with a list of Thai phrases she wanted help translating into English. We soon received a lunch invitation to her home, and she’s been cooking delicious Thai vegetarian food for me every since.

I have known few people as genuinely generous as she. She has welcomed nearly every one of our American guests for dinner at her home, and many have said it was one of their favorite meals in Thailand. When our flood happened in September of 2005, her house was not affected, but she went all out helping others who were. She came to our house on the second day, looked at our piles of muddy clothing, and without a word shoveled it all into the back of her pickup truck and sped home. I later learned that it took her up to ten hand rinses for each batch before enough mud was out of the clothing for it to go into the washing machine. Last year, Pi Noy and Por Or Weera hosted Chanon, a high school exchange student from Norway, for ten months. She so enjoyed being able to take care of someone, and guide them through Thai culture, that they’re hoping to do it again during the next school year.

Many years into the future, I know that I’ll look back at my time in Thailand and some of my fondest memories will be dinners at Pi Noy’s house. And we get to go again tomorrow, hooray!

[The first photo shows me with Pi Noy in her beautiful kitchen. The second shows Robert, Por Or Weera, and Pi Noy eating the specialty noodles of another northern province. The things that look like little meatballs are, for them, little pork meatballs, and for me, little vegetarian meatballs.]

Organics

The Germans are lucky! Because of Europe’s rules about agriculture, pesticides, and imports, many Thai farmers or food producers who use organic methods are able to export products there. Organic farming is still not too common in Thailand, but those who do it are able to make a nice little profit.

When we lived with our host family in central Thailand, with our developing Thai language skills we were able to discover over a number of weeks that they participate in the export economy. Our host father owns 23 fields of baby corn, grown organically. Every day, truckloads of corn are harvested and brought in a pickup truck to the front of the house. Workers from the surrounding houses come to peel the corn by hand, earning a wage of 2 baht per kilo of peeled corn.

After the corn is peeled, our host parents sort it into three categories: beautiful, less beautful, and not beautiful. Kun Por drives the beautiful corn up the road to the packing plant every evening. The less beautiful corn is sold in Bangkok markets. The not beautiful corn is eaten at home.

We visited the packing plant several times, which was fun. We got to see all the different organic vegetables grown in the area, including asparagus, okra, and chilies. We also watched as the workers used special hand machines to wrap the properly arranged corn in plastic. We were told that the final product is shipped primarily to Japan and Germany.

Last week, we had three trainees from the newest group of Peace Corps Thailand volunteers come to stay with us for a couple of days, to see what the life of "real volunteers" is like. We took them to visit some local income generation projects north of our town, including the dried banana operation that we saw last November. The bananas had been temporarily displaced by huge piles of drying ginger, which smelled absolutely fantastic. The ginger is grown organically in another northern province, then purchased in bulk and brought here. The ladies in the photo are washing every piece by hand before it is sliced and laid out to dry in the sun. Our guide told us that, indeed, it will be shipped to Germany! I say again, those Germans are lucky!

Doi Pui (Bai Tiow Part II)

After leaving the wedding on Saturday afternoon, we headed out with our landlords for some sightseeing. For about a year, they had been talking about wanting to talk us up into one of the higher mountain villages that dot the north of Thailand. Finally, we had our chance. We headed up past Doi Suthep (overlooking Chiang Mai city) to the Hmong village of Doi Pui,

Over past decades, the royal family of Thailand has sponsored a number of sustainable development projects in northern hill tribe areas. The general goal is to encourage hill tribes to move out of the opium trade and into safer, healthier economies. Doi Pui is one such example.

Up in the village, we visited the small museum and looked at some traditional artifacts and tools. We took photos in the opium gardens. We purchased handicrafts from several of the stalls along the windy roads. We admired the waterfalls.

We opted to skip the opportunity to pay 60 baht to dress up in traditional Hmong clothing for our photos in the gardens, however. Although it was clear that Doi Pui was managed and operated in a sustainable manner by the residents of the village, and not by the Thai government, we felt awkward about some of its elements. At one point, Ajaan Warangkana pulled me into a small structure where a tour group was listening to their guide explain what they were seeing. It seemed to be a replica of a house, and the English-speaking guide was pointing out the various spaces – sleeping area, cooking area, meat smoking area, etc. I couldn’t see much so I just translated the descriptions for Warangkana. When the group moved away and I was able to see inside, however, I realized that it was a REAL HOUSE CURRENTLY IN USE BY ITS RESIDENTS. A woman was cooking. Two kids were lying on a bench watching TV, surrounded by some very used-looking blankets.. Clothes were hanging on the line to dry. There we were, tourists, in someone’s real home. It was a very strange feeling, and Robert and I agreed that we wanted to quickly move back outside.

We couldn’t decide how we felt about the experience overall. On the one hand, in our position as tourists we were clearly supporting the economy of the village. I know that this kind of tourism can in many cases help communities to preserve their traditional cultures, because doing so has an economic benefit. On the other hand, at times it felt a little bit like walking through a zoo, except that the zoo had people instead of animals. I don’t feel comfortable seeing my fellow human beings this way.

As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I’ve had the opportunity to be part of "the real thing" while living in Thailand. I don’t just walk around like a tourist, looking at people’s culture and admiring or analyzing it. No, I’m living it, and wow, it’s real. All the good and bad parts mixed up together for two solid years. Nothing like the guidebooks.

We can’t all have this opportunity, though, and even I will probably only have it with a limited number of communities. (Our trip to Laos was clearly tourism-focused, but highly educational.) And certainly it must be better to have some exposure to other cultures, as a tourist, than to have none at all. Perhaps the best way to look at this issue is to say is that if I could learn something from the experience, and use it to be a better citizen of the world, then it has a value beyond its local economic benefits. And perhaps that’s good enough for me.

Chiang Mai Wedding (Bai Tiow Part I)

The son of a teacher at one of Robert’s schools was getting married yesterday in a small village in Chiang Mai province, so we arose at 5:30am in order to travel there with our landlords. We arrived just after 10:00am, too late to see the monks doing the religious blessing or the groom’s family presenting the dowry to the bride’s parents for approval.

We were, however, able to participate in the community blessing portion of the wedding day. One by one or in pairs, guests approach the couple on knees and present an envelope with the wedding gift. The "puean jow sow" and "puean jow bao" – roughly equivalent to best man and maid of honor – collect the envelopes and give each guest a piece of white string. The guests then tie the string around the wrists of the bride and groom while giving blessings and hopes for the future.

We had met the groom twice before: once at his monk ordination in our town last April (with my sister Annie) and once at the World Garden festival in Chiang Mai city in December, for which he helped us purchase our tickets (with our friend Leah). As I tied string on the wrist of the groom and Robert tied it on the bride, he spoke our wish for them to have happy experiences. I added a wish for good health.

After all the guests had an opportunity to tie string, the meal was served: green curry with fish balls, spicy minced pork "laab" salad, stir-fried chicken with cashew nuts, "Yam Woon Sen" noodle-meat salad, and fresh fruit. The bride and groom visited each table to take photos and hand out favors – keychains with the King’s picture. Several of the retired female teachers at our table enjoyed singing karaoke, and they even convinced Robert to give a performance of "I Just Called to Say ‘I Love You.’" Shortly before 1pm, we changed our clothes, got back into our landlords’ car, and headed out for some sightseeing. (To Be Continued...)

"Ngan" Means Both "Work" and "Party" in Thai...

It was one of those days...

Wednesdays are our "office days" at our site. We are based at the school district office, where we might make teaching materials or plan a teacher training. Sometimes we make visits to schools in the district that don’t usually have foreign teachers. This past Wednesday happened to be the "Corporate Civil Service Sports Day and Banquet" for various local employees. Since we were given free shirts to match the school district employee team, we thought we ought to attend.

The high school had cancelled classes for the day to allow the sports day celebrators to use its facilities. (Yes, you read that right.) We headed up there at 8am with Pi Noy, and then waited around for an hour until most of the rest of the participants arrived. All the teams lined up for the opening parade. Robert and I were given flags to carry in the school district section. As we listened to the marching band practice and watched the various drum majors and majorettes twirling their sticks, we agreed that it felt rather like being in high school again.

Robert and I, in matching shirts, with one of our majorettes:

Our friend At as drum major:

The parade finally began; we marched in formation across the field and listened to the remarks made in the opening speeches. We were reminded that to be healthy requires that we exercise 30 minutes per day, 4-5 days per week, and so on. The flag was raised, the runner completed his lap around the field and lit the torch, we did a last march around the field, and finally we were in the shade of our tent.

After just one short hour of foot races and volleyball, the partying started! By 11am, the karaoke music was playing, the grilled chicken was passed around, and the whiskey was flowing.

Some of the women started mixing up the lunch food, and Pi Noy hurried to make a vegetarian version for me. The main dish – in addition to the grilled chicken – was Yam Woon Sen, a spicy noodle salad. Most people ate it with a variety of processed meat slices. The photo shows my veggie tray on the far left, the regular Yam next, with crispy baked pig skin in the middle. Above the chicken is some green mango with chili dipping sauce, and on the far right is a large plastic cup of sticky rice. There was also spicy papaya salad (not pictured) made with crab cream for those who enjoy it, and oranges for dessert.

During lunch, Robert was called upon to fill out the men’s relay race team, so he willingly obliged. Here he is running down the field with a water balloon!

We left shortly after lunch because we had lots of work to do back at the office – we’re planning an English camp for 8 schools next week – and spent the afternoon in relative quiet. Pi Noy picked us up again at 6pm to take us to the banquet dinner. Of course, it was a Chinese meal, so she had brought along some salad for me to eat. Robert enjoyed the spicy grilled fish and the peanuts, and he said the vegetables with bacon weren’t bad. He did not like the boiled pork, the spicy fried meat salad, or most of the cold appetizers. He was too full for the chicken soup, and we managed to convey our tiredness well enough that we were taken home before the fried rice with pork arrived. Here’s a picture of him eating a well-flavored hot dog with chopsticks:

In addition to food, the banquet included karaoke, trophy presentations, and much conversation. All in all, yet another interesting day in the Thai education system.

Burning

It's that time of year again... the air is filled with smoke all across northern Thailand. I go jogging along the river or through the rice fields, and random piles of burning material will send off plumes of smoke that fill my lungs and cause major coughing.

At night, we can look around at the mountains surrounding our town and see orange flames along the hillsides. During the day, if we're riding in a car or bus along the highway, occasional fires will be so close to the road that we'll feel their heat as we pass by.

Much of what is being burned is the leftovers of the rice harvest. Also, some set fire to underbrush in the woods. Sometimes people are making charcoal.

The mountains that are so green and sharp all through the rainy season and November and December are now barely visible, due to the combination of smoke and dust from lack of rain. It's a completely different environment!

Personal Feature: Kun Por & Kun Maa

During our first ten weeks in Thailand – our Peace Corps training – we spent two months living with a host family. Robert and I got pretty lucky with our family – some volunteers had less positive experiences – and yesterday we went back for our last visit with them before the end of our service. It’s a bit of a hike to get to their house, so we hadn’t been for a year. Many things had changed for them, but entering their home we felt again like the 30- and 27-year-olds we were when we first arrived in Thailand. For my second personal feature, I will talk a bit about Kun Por (host father) and Kun Maa (host mother).

Kun Por, whose real name is Somnuk, was one of six children born in a Chinese-Thai family in Central Thailand. His father was a ditch-digger. Kun Maa – real name Sujitra – is also one of 6 children, but her family is 100% Thai. Her father was a teacher in the community where we did our training and was well-respected in the area. When Somnuk arrived in town about 30 years ago, they fell in love and were married. Somnuk quickly built up a reputation as a hard worker who could be trusted, and within ten years he had been elected "poo-yai bahn", or head man, of the village. It was a life term, so he still continues as poo-yai today. He is among the very small number of Thai men who do not drink alcohol, which likely contributes to his high status.

Somnuk and Sujitra have two children. Their son, Mongkonchai, earned a masters degree in computer technology in Australia, where he has been living for several years. He has a Thai fiancee who is also studying a masters in Australia, and they will return here to be married in about six months. Their daughter is Anothai, and we’ve always been a bit confused about her story. During the time that we lived in the house, she worked for Toyota in Bangkok. Now, however, she has married a local farmer, and they are living with her parents and expecting a baby in April. We think there’s a bit more to the story but have hesitated to ask.

When we moved in, the household included four others: Kun Boo, Somnuk’s elderly father who couldn’t speak much; Pi Porn, a housekeeper in her 50's; Nong Lek, Pi Porn’s teenage daugher; and Watlunyoopa, Pi Porn’s young granddaughter. Pi Porn and her family left partway through our training because a relative of hers had become ill and she went to be the caretaker. Kun Boo died a little over a year ago.

The house is far from empty, though. In addition to Anothai and her husband, Sujitra now cares for two additional family members. Her father – Kun Daa – had his legs amputated last year and moved into the house from his nearby village. Sujitra does all his cooking, bathing, and dressing. Also, Somnuk and Sujitra have adopted a young orphan from the village. Mot Dit’s father, as Sujitra explained to us, visited too many woman, contracted HIV, passed it to his wife, and died. Mot Dit’s mother died also, leaving the 12-year-old with no relatives. Adoption of strangers is not common in Thailand, and I think it speaks very highly of the generosity of our former host parents that they have taken Mot Dit into their home and are raising her and sending her to school.

Although training was rough, we were very happy in our host family’s home. The food was delicious and the conversation good. Kun Por and Kun Maa took their responsibilities for teaching us how to survive in Thailand very seriously, and were constantly concerned with our comfort and well-being. During the many times during my first year that I wanted to quit and go home, I would think of them and remember how hard they had worked to see that we had all we needed when we were in their home, and I knew I didn’t want to let them down by going home early. They are people who ask for nothing for themselves, and only try to make the lives of those they love – their parents, their children, and the others who live with them – happier and richer. I’ll always remember their goodness, and be grateful that my introduction to Thailand was largely through them.

Dry Season

Thailand has a 3-season climate. The hot season, with daily temperatures above 100F and nights rarely cooler than 85F, lasts from approximately March-April. Rainy season begins in June, in the north, and goes through September or October. Temperatures are still hot, but more bearable because of the cloud cover.

We're now in the dry season, or cool season as it's also known. It hasn't rained in our town since October. This year is unusually cold, and it's gotten down to 50F almost every night since mid-December. This is very cold if you don't have indoor heating!

The rice was harvested back in November in our area, and many of the fields are lying fallow until the next planting cycle, as shown in the brown-ish colored photo. Others are irrigated to grow other crops, including broccoli, potatoes, and tobacco. These two photos show the fields on either side of the road to my Monday-Thursday school. You can see how irrigation makes quite a difference!

Competition . . . Part II

Today we spent the day at the school-district-wide subject area competitions. They took place an hour north of town, at one of the high schools, so we had to leave at the unusually early hour of 6:45am in order to be there in time for the opening parade.

Despite my previously noted dislike for the Thai educational system’s focus on competition, I am nonetheless rather proud to announce that Donut, a 6th grader I’ve taught for two years at my Monday-Thursday school, won the English speaking competition for upper elementary school. For several months I was rather hoping he’d at least win the local competition (which he did, last week) but I hadn’t quite expected him to win overall.

The reason I wanted him to win is a bit difficult to explain. As I said, I don’t really believe there should be a competitionl. However, although I often feel like I don’t accomplish much as a Peace Corps volunteer in Thailand, I am particularly proud of the work I’ve done at this one school. For two years, Ajaan Warangkana and I have built a solid co-teaching foundation. We have a fairly consistent classroom routine (for Thailand) and have done a decent job of building new knowledge on top of skills the students have previously mastered (unusual, for Thailand). The kids actually like speaking English, in random but appropriate bursts, outside of class.

So, I felt like having Donut (his nickname) win the contest would be an external vindication that student-centered teaching pays off in the long run. It might not be the fastest or the most shiny – in terms of having lots for teachers to "show off" after a short period of time, as teachers in Thailand are wont to do – but it’s the most effective, and, I hope, permanent. Donut had a good speech, which he had practiced for several days as all the students do. According to the judges, though, what set him well ahead of the competition was his ability to understand and answer questions he was asked that he hadn’t had the opportunity to prepare for ahead of time. I like to think that this is because student-centered learning allowed him to learn to actually USE English, instead of just memorizing or repeating it.

So, even though I would have thought my work at this school was somewhat successful even if he hadn’t won, the fact that he did win will perhaps mean that some other teachers in the district might be interested in knowing how it was done. And for that they’ll have to go to my co-teacher, since I’m leaving soon. I compliment myself, a bit, for trying to bring new teaching techniques to the school. I compliment Donut, of course, for working hard and being brave enough to compete. But mostly I compliment Ajaan Warangkana, for being willing to try them for two years and adapting them with a sort of Thai-Warangkana flair. Hopefully, she’ll keep teaching with that flair, even after I leave. She was pretty excited after Donut won today, so I’m hopeful.

Robert would like me to note that even though none of his English students won medals, they did come up and ask "How are you?" when I saw them at the competition today. And they could answer when I asked in return. ("I am cold," because at 55 degrees, it was really freezing.)

[The photo is from several months ago. The boys are showing off a guava tree. Donut is second from left in the back row.]

Charity, Service, and Giving

Yesterday we attended a couple of ceremonies thanking the American Chamber of Commerce for their donations to two local schools, including one at which I co-teach. The 2005 flood destroyed the school’s library, and the ACC, with some individual and business partners, gave 60,000 baht (about $1500) to help buy new books and furniture. The event gave Robert and I a number of topics to discuss over dinner.

One thing Robert observed, considering yesterday’s event and other opportunities we’ve had to see charitable organizations in action, is that charity seems to work best when it’s designed close to home. World Vision, which I described in an earlier blog, has an office located right in our town and staffed by local people who know exactly what the needs of the community are. As a result, it’s extremely effective at using its available resources to target real needs for the students.

The ACC donation was a joint effort between local school staff and ACC staff in Bangkok. Our principal, realizing a need for library improvement, requested a grant, and American Chamber of Commerce provided the funds. School teachers then used the money to order books, furniture, and supplies. I would like to say that this was also an example of effective targeting of needs, however, in my opinion (which is just, of course, my opinion), while a school library is essential, many of the books purchased with the money are actually not suitable for young children or middle schoolers. But that’s just a small quibble.

Our Peace Corps project is an interesting subject. After spending nearly two years in our town, in schools with students, I have a pretty good sense of what their needs are. I would prioritize education about sanitation, health, nutrition, and life skills (critical thinking, decision-making), especially those that are effective in HIV prevention. English teaching would be near the bottom of my list, after math, Thai, and geography. I have frequently attempted to move in a few different directions. But, the Thai Ministry of Education, located hundreds of miles away in the tall buildings of Bangkok, determines our project goals, and they prefer that we teach English. The teachers have to conform to official requirements. And so we do.

Then, of course, there are the heavily funded and not necessarily effective organizations such as UNICEF that seem to spend lots of money on conferences and fancy cars for select groups of people, with little benefit trickling down to local communities. I can’t say that I know a lot about this, as I haven’t witnessed it first-hand, but I do know that a fancy car for NGO staff doesn’t do my kids a whole lot of good.

What does all this mean? I suppose those of us who give to charity just need to try to make sure that our money is being spent as we intend it to be, to the best of our ability. Sometimes there isn’t much we can do – if local school teachers decide to purchase boring Thai history books without any pictures with their library funds, against the recommendations of their Peace Corps Volunteer, you have to let it be. But I do think that most of us like to think that our money is not being wasted.

Which brings me to my final point. As a line of students was coming forward to receive their free notebooks and pencils from a computer company, the Thai woman next to me – an employee of the Office of Basic Education Commission – turned to me and said, "I don’t understand why foreigners give money to Thai school children. Why don’t rich Thai people do the same thing?" The woman in front of her, a Thai employee of the ACC, turned around and agreed. I wonder it too. I have heard that this is typical of Asian societies: providing assistance or charity to one’s own family is acceptable, even expected, but aiding strangers is seen as downright strange. What is it about Americans – and other classes of foreigners – that makes many of us want to reach out to people we have never or will never meet, to share a bit of what we have? A recent study found that American charitable giving correlates not with political affiliation or liberal/conservative ideology, but with religious participation. Is there something about religion in America that encourages us to be charitable? And why isn’t the same true in Thailand? I have my own ideas... but I’ll save them for another time.

Personal Feature: Ajaan Warangkana

As I have 55 days remaining as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Thailand, I’ve decided to highlight a few of the people who have been most important in my time here.

When asked what I will miss about Thailand when I leave, the easiest answer is my co-teacher, Ajaan Warangkana. I teach with her at my Monday-Thursday school, and she has been my constant support here.

Warangkana was born in a small village about twenty miles north of our town. The youngest of three children, she was the daughter of the village leader and his wife, a shopkeeper. Most children in her village did not complete school past third grade, but because her father was relatively important and well-connected, she and her siblings were sent to attend school in town. At age 19, she finished teacher college and began working in schools near her hometown. Shortly after, she met Sawat, another teacher. They married and had two daughters, living for several years in her home village without electricity or running water.

Twenty years ago, they built a house in our town. When their daughters were old enough, they were sent away to school in the city, returning home on weekends or during school breaks. Sawat became a principal and rose to prominence. He is one of three people in our province to have been "knighted" by the King. Now, one daughter is finishing college in Bangkok. The other is currently living in America and plans to study a masters degree in teaching.

During my first interactions with Ajaan Warangkana, I wasn’t sure what to make of her. She seemed intimidating – stern and formal. It was only after a few weeks of teaching together, and living just two houses apart (she and Sawat are our landlords), that I began to feel comfortable with her. In reality, she is quite different from my first impressions. She is giggly, opinionated, and easy to talk to.

In September of 2005, as I was explaining to her why, at a school district teacher training, it had bothered me that the audience started questioning Robert about what types of Thai women he preferred, we had our first real deep conversation. She told me that when we first met, she had been afraid to talk to me because I was so quiet and she was shy about her English skills. (Her English is actually very good.) I told her about my initial intimidation. We laughed about each being wrong about the other. Since then, we’ve had many a conversation discussing our different cultures, interpretations of gender roles and differences, families, and, of course, Thai education. We don’t always agree, but it has been wonderful to have someone to talk to within easy reach.

If I leave Thailand feeling like I’ve accomplished only one thing, it will be my friendship with Warangkana.

[If we look a bit hot and worn out in the photo, it’s because it was over 100 degrees that day. And look at the clothes we had to wear!]