Yeah, Totally

Sometimes signs are a lot of fun in Thailand. The translation from Thai to English can be turned in some interesting directions. This is a sign that Robert saw today while on a field trip with his students at a power plant. The sign was part of the geological museum at the plant.

It's Rooster Time II -- The Photo

Some readers of this blog may remember the mass email I sent back in April of 2005, when we had been living at our site for just a few weeks. We were startled to discover that not only did roosters crow at dawn, but they did so at odd hours in the middle of the night as well, and for extended periods of time. After two months we spent $150 to put new windows in our bedroom, helping to block out some of the sound.

At the time I also expressed bewilderment at how there could be so many roosters in such a small area, with a seemingly low relative number of female chickens. It was another couple of months before a friend suggested that perhaps the high rooster population is due to a local love of cockfighting. We did a bit of investigating, and it seems that indeed, this is the case. Many of our neighbors – particularly the young-ish males who have no regular work – spend time training their birds. I’ve been fortunate enough never to see a fight, but we know they happen.

Many of the roosters around town are kept in half-dome cages like the one in the photo. They sit under houses, in yards, and along the road. This one was near the house of one of my students. Of course, many roosters also simply roam free, occasionally wandering into our yard or walking along our perimeter wall until we chase them with a broom.

Planting Rice

Way back when we first heard we were coming to Thailand, I got it into my head that I wanted to plant rice. Not necessarily often or regularly, but at least once. The thought of living in a country where there is truly a "staple food" made me think that I ought to experience how that staple food is produced.

Today, a hot, sunny day near the end of the planting season, after over 19 months of living in Thailand, I finally had my chance. Robert and I got up around 8am, ate some oatmeal, jumped on our bikes and rode a little ways north of town. We found a spot along the road where a few people were planting, got off our bikes and looked around hesitantly. As I expected, within 20 seconds there were calls to "come help plant!" We said, "Ok!" and they laughed.

Not knowing quite what to do for proper footwear (and having a healthy fear of Asian liver fluke and whatever else might be in there), we encased our feet with plastic bags, socks, and rubber bands. Finally set, we waded in and immediately sank several inches in the mud. The rubber bands helped the bags stay up to our ankles, though, so at least the soles of our feet were protected!

The four women – one of whom is a grandmother of a 2nd grader that I teach, it turns out – showed us how to carefully take a few stalks of rice out of a bundle and stick them into the mud in neat rows. I wasn’t surprised to find that it’s harder than it looks to get it right, but eventually I got into a slow groove. The women, of course, flew by Robert and me and occasionally came to help us finish a row or a section. They seemed happy to have us, though, and kept up a lively conversation. I could see how rice planting is a community activity.

The current wage for a full day’s labor planting rice is 100 baht, or about $2.50. For perspective, a bowl of noodles is 20 baht, a bus ride to the provincial capital is 30 baht, and an electric rice cooker is 400 baht. We lasted only 90 minutes, at which point I was sure I had sweat out all my sunscreen. Three hours later, after a good scrub and some lunch, my legs are still tired from pushing through the thick mud.

As we were leaving, the women said we should come back in October to help with the harvest. I’m looking forward to it!

Sandwich Gone Strange

Thai cuisine is becoming increasingly famous throughout the world. When we received our invitation to join Peace Corps Thailand, we were very excited to know we were going to live somewhere which such great food. Thai cooking is said to have blended elements of Chinese and Indian styles and ingredients. This fusion is what gives it such great flavor.

On occasion, however, we discover that "fusion" has gone in strange directions, particularly when Thai and American or European cuisines are blended. Case in point: the sandwich. In America, sandwiches are commonly found made with bread (often whole grain or nicely flavored), a protein filling (meat, peanut butter, cheese, etc.), some veggies or fruit spread, and perhaps a flavoring (butter, mayo, special sauce, etc.).

In Thailand, however, the concept of what makes a good sandwich has been completely changed. Here, only white bread (of the Wonderbread style) is used. The protein filling, if there is one, is likely to be fuzzy pork (think cotton candy, but made of meat) or red bean paste. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vegetable filling. Instead, you often come across red or green fruity-flavored gels such as the one shown in the photo. I read recently that Thailand is the country with the world’s highest per capita sugar consumption. I’m not sure it’s verifiably true, but my experience would attest to it, and the "sandwich" is a great example.

This particular sandwich was brought home from school from school by Robert, a little "gift" from his co-teacher that day. (Yes, it’s got four pieces of bread. Count them.)

All in a Day's Work

There I was, reviewing "in," "on," and "under," with the 5th graders, when they started jumping and running to look out the door. 6th graders were walking past in the hallway, clutching their arms up near the shoulder. "What’s going on?" I asked my co-teacher, Ajaan Warangkana. "Oh, they’re having their shots in the library," she explained. "German measles."

Once the 5th grade was settled down again, and at work on their pictures, I crept out of the room to peek into the makeshift medical station two doors down. Sure enough, there were my 6th graders, getting shots. Some were huddling nervously as they waited; others were looking relieved to be finished, though a little unhappy about the pain.

Suddenly an excited man with a slightly familiar face was waving his hands excitedly and talking to me. "Can you teach for about 15 minutes?" he asked. "You know, about health and taking care of your body." "Sure," I answered, thinking he meant sometime in the distant future when we could collaborate and plan in advance. "Ok, I’ll let you know when we’re ready and we’ll have all the grades here, 1-6," he replied. "You can do whatever you want. Robert played a game earlier."

Somewhat bewildered, but feeling like I had some idea what had happened, I consulted with Ajaan Warangkana for a minute and then called over to Robert at his school. He said that yes indeed, during the morning he had been asked by Doctor Aig to teach the entire student body about health for 15 minutes, so his response was a vocab-and-action game about different illnesses. ("Stomache!" All kids clutch their stomachs, lean over, and groan.) Feeling like that wasn’t quite our style, Ajaan Warangkana and I got to work composing a song to the tune of "The Limbo" with such great lines as "Wash your hands, brush your teeth," and their accompanying movements. The 6th graders watched with interest.

Finally the moment arrived. Grades 2-6 assembled on the library floor (Grade 1 was too traumatized by their shots, so they remained wailing on the other side of the school) and Doctor Aig introduced my topic as "How Students in America Take Care of their Health." I agreed, in response to his prompting, that students in America do in fact get vaccinations also. I then asked the kids about their handwashing and toothbrushing habits, again stressing that American kids are expected to wash their hands, just like Thai kids. Finally, as the room was getting hotter and hotter, Ajaan Warangkana and I launched into our song. Given that it was after 3pm, about 95 degrees, and 20 percent of the kids in the room had recently received painful shots in the arm, I’d say it was a decent hit.

When we were finally finished with our "lesson," Doctor Aig came back up front for a question-and-answer session with the kids about bird flu, dengue fever, and childhood obesity and its relation to diabetes. Watching as he singled out Sutin and Prapat to draw attention to their overweight-ness, I was reminded of how this was different from America. When Robert and I compared notes over dinner, he noted his surprise at how, when Doctor Aig asked the question, "And how many of you have lice today?" about 12 girls in the 5th and 6th grades raised their hands.

Teaching in a Thai primary school: never dull.

[The accompanying photo is a year old, taken in the meeting hall at an English club session. But I thought it was a cute one of Ajaan Warangkana and I co-teaching together.]

Aniversary . . . Party?

After a quiet dinner for two – Massaman curry, peanuts with ginger and kaffir lime leaves, fresh cucumbers, a bottle of beer, and some sticky rice – eaten on the porch, we decided to take a walk for some fresh air. It was very dark along the river, since the street lamps still aren’t completely repaired from the flood, but a short distance from our house we could hear some gentle northern Thai music coming from a house with a few well-placed lanterns.

We approached the house slowly, wanting to spy for a few minutes on the music but not wanting to get pulled inside, but as we peeked out from a shadow we were spotted anyway. As expected, they called us up... and feeling good-natured, we went, despite not knowing the owners. Not expecting to see any familiar faces, we were first surprised to bump into Ajaan Catawood, an English teacher at the local high school we’ve worked with several times at various events. A minute later, as we reached the open porch where the "party" was happening, we were even more surprised to see that Por Or Samart, the principal at Robert’s small school, was one of the musicians.

Overlooking the river, on the dimly lit beautiful wooden porch, a pair of plastic mats on the floor were covered in different dishes of food, around which were seated about 10 people. Robert sat down on what seemed to be the primarily male side, and I sat down among the 4 women, none of whom I recognized. Drinks were poured (whiskey for Robert, water for me), and the conversation began.

Robert reports that his side of the mats covered many weighty issues, including the current generation of Thai youth’s lack of respect for hard work and the differences between Eastern and Western forms of Buddhism. (He reported that at one point, the man on his left attempted to make a "fulcrum" with his hands to show the comparison, but Robert’s Thai wasn’t quite up to the task of complete understanding.) For my part, the female conversation focused on simpler topics such as the time zone and weather differences between Thailand and America, the Thai foods that one can eat if one is vegetarian, and – slightly more advanced – the teaching of English in Thai primary schools.

Both of us enjoyed ourselves considerably for an hour or so before making a graceful exit. We agreed that it was not the anniversary evening we had been expecting, but it was nice all the same. After all, how many more wedding anniversaries will we spend on a stranger-turned-neighbor’s porch overlooking a river in rural northern Thailand?

Da Stefano Review

If you’re in Chiang Mai and in need of a place to go for a romantic Italian dinner, Da Stefano is it. Located near the Tha Pae Gate, from the outside Da Stefano looks like just another one of those little foreign food establishments that you see all over the city. The quality of the food, however, sets it apart.

We went to Da Stefano almost by accident, after our plan to dine by the river was impossible due to rowdy crowds at the first restaurant we chose. Craving Italian, we quickly called a few places in the guidebook that we had along. Da Stefano answered the phone and promised pizza and other vegetarian options.

When we entered the restaurant, we were immediately relieved to find quiet, well-spaced tables half-filled with other couples and small groups looking for a quiet evening. We chose a table next to the wall and eagerly opened the menu. Four reasonably-priced set menu options were presented on the first page, but uninterested we continued. The lists of pizzas and appetizers were long and appealing. In addition, other Italian specialties, including pastas and gnocchi, were offered. After ordering, we settled back to enjoy the atmosphere.

The garlic bread bruschetta arrived first, along with a half-liter of the cheaper of the two house red wines. The wine was great, but although both the bread and topping were very tasty individually, I probably wouldn’t order it as an appetizer again. The complementary dry breadsticks that were placed on the table with some olive dipping oil were flavorful.

The mixed salads were quite large, including lettuce, tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, and shredded carrot, and we were able to put on our own oil and vinegar right at the table. The best part of the meal, however, was the pizza. We shared a margharita, which came topped with fresh basil leaves, and a four-cheese, which had a pleasing blend that included Gouda and just enough Gorgonzola to give it some kick. The crust was perfectly cooked and full of its own flavor, and all of it went perfectly with the wine. I’ve eaten pizza at many different restaurants in six Thai provinces, and Da Stefano beats them all.

For dessert, we skipped the Italian classics and shared a chocolate sundae, just the right end to our meal. As we walked out into the calm night we agreed that we’d choose Da Stefano on our next trip to Chiang Mai.
To get to Da Stefano, walk east across the moat from Tha Pae Gate. Right after Starbucks and Family Mart, turn left onto the little lane that heads north. Da Stefano is a few meters in on the right.

Umbrella Village

Since our 3-year wedding aniversary is tomorrow, and since we had a rare 4-day weekend here in Thailand, we have just spent three nights in Chiang Mai for a little relaxation, fun, and shopping. Between visits to night markets and hill tribe product shops, ceramics stores and silk roads, we squeezed in several delicious meals (Indian, Italian, American) and Pirates of the Caribbean II. All in all, an excellent trip.

Our landlords, Por Or Sawat (principal of one of Robert’s schools) and Ajaan Warangkana (one of my co-teachers) accompanied us for the day on Saturday. They took us to see Bo Sang, the famous "umbrella village," about 10 kilometers outside Chiang Mai. One building has been set up as an official government-run visitor center. There, you could watch people making paper and cotton umbrellas as well as do some shopping.

We walked past all the stages of umbrella making: cutting the wood for the handle, arranging the spokes, making and drying the paper, laying the paper over the spokes and coating it with glue, final assembly and painting of the designs. My favorite person to watch was a woman who looped string around the outside of the umbrella spokes while spinning the entire thing around at a rapid pace. I did also enjoy watching the old woman with a saw shown in the photo.

Kow Pansa

The chance to join in Thai festivals with our community is one of our favorite parts of being Peace Corps Volunteers in Thailand. Monday is "Kow Pansa," or the beginning of Buddhist Lent, so today we celebrated with the schools and villages. ("Kow" means "enter.")

Buddhist Lent lasts 3 months. The timing of it is related to moon cycles and the rainy season. Traditionally, monks walk through the villages every morning to collect food and other necessities. During rice planting time, farmers in olden times would get upset if monks trampled the fields. Pansa evolved into a time when monks are not supposed to leave the wat (temple). In addition, people are expected to abstain from harmful pleasures such as drinking alcohol, smoking, etc., and to visit the wat on certain days related to the moon. Until about 20 years ago, electricity did not extend to all parts of Thailand. My co-teacher explained that during Pansa, the people needed to bring candles to the monks in the wat so that they would be able to see at night.

Candles therefore featured prominently in today’s ceremonies and festivities. At Robert’s Friday school, the students and teachers decorated two large orange candles which they carried through their two feeder villages collecting donations from the people. They then took the donations and the candles to the respective local wats, where they received blessings from the monks.

At my Friday school, the students and teachers converted the back of a pickup truck into a parade float featuring a large orange candle surrounded by flowers. We joined in the afternoon parade down the main street of town. All 9 floats in the parade had candles, and there were competitions for the most beautiful and creative designs. All the students then piled into the back of several teachers’ pickup trucks and went to two different wats to deliver offerings and receive blessings.

The photos show Robert’s students playing northern Thai music and proudly displaying their candle.

Pineapple Glut

You know you’re living in a tropical country when...

As you exit the windy road through the mountains and ride along the west side of our valley, you can look out the window of your vehicle at hills covered in pineapples. Actually, you can just see the sprouty tops, because the fruit grows underground. These hills are very pretty, but even though I came to Thailand anxious to eat lots and lots of fresh pineapple, I’ve had more than my fill lately.

Apparently, pineapple growing was so profitable in our province for a while that many people started growing it who hadn’t done so before. As can be expected, the supply has outgrown the demand. About a month ago there were protests in our provincial capital by farmers claiming that the government owed them money for having grown all this pineapple. I don’t know all the details, but I do know that the governor, anxious to stop the protests, agreed to buy the pineapple from the farmers at the price of 80 satang per kilogram.

Now, 80 satang per kilogram is pretty much nothing at all. There are approximately 40 baht to the dollar, and 100 satang to 1 baht. So, 80 satang comes out to be about 2 cents. 2 cents, for 2.2 pounds of fresh pineapple. But even at that rate, and even with the primary schools taking advantage of the low price and buying it like crazy, they still can’t sell all the pineapples so they’re being thrown into big holes. (This is the story I am told.)

Last Friday at our English camp, lunch included stir-fried pineapple for the main course, with fresh pineapple for dessert. I felt a little high on sugar by the end of the meal! The teachers were surprised that I wanted to take a picture of pineapple. They were even more surprised when I explained that it’s a very expensive fruit in the United States.

(Other food items in the photo include red curry, rice and rice noodles, and fish sauce with chilies.)

Trip to the Doctor

Peace Corps medical philosophy is that Volunteers are largely responsible for our own health care. Our first week in-country, we were given two medical books apiece and large medical kits. We try to handle most small problems on our own, with occasional phone calls to our Medical Officer, Dr. Rit, in Bangkok.

When something comes up that we can't do on our own, however, such as when we came down with bronchitis and sinusitis last summer or when I had tooth problems in January, Peace Corps will arrange appointments for us with appropriate doctors. Sometimes this means a trip to Bangkok, which for us is 12 hours of travel, each way, and a choice between missing school or riding an overnight train, or maybe both. Not feeling tempted by either of those choices, I requested to have my appointment this week in Chiang Mai -- an easier 4-hour trip. I also requested a Saturday appointment so as not to miss any school.

So, my short description of what's involved for this Peace Corps Volunteer to make a trip to the doctor:

The second day of English camp ended at 4pm Friday, and by 4:05 we were out on the highway waiting for the bus. It picked us up 20 minutes later, and we rode in relative -- though non-air-conditioned -- comfort along the windy mountain roads for over an hour until reaching our provincial capital. As it was Friday evening, as we expected, the buses to Chiang Mai were mostly full, but we were able to get standing room on a 2nd-class air-conditioned bus that left the station at 6pm. We stood our way across the next set of mountains, not entirely comfortable, until reaching a mid-point city just after 7. A number of people got off there and we were able to claim two seats for the remainder of the ride -- a huge relief!

We arrived in Chiang Mai shortly before 8pm, found a songtaew to our guest house, and checked in. I took a quick shower while Robert called an Indian restaurant to check their hours. By 10 pm, stuffed with cheap Indian food (see preceeding blog entry), we were back at the guest house preparing for bed.

We checked out at 9:30 the next morning and went off to find breakfast. For a little luxury I wanted good coffee, so we went to the Libernard Cafe for banana pancakes and cinnamon cappucino (orange juice for Robert). After breakfast, Robert went for a walk through the old city while I met with the doctor.

After being pronounced healthy, I met up with Robert in the hospital lobby at 11:30. We jumped in another songtaew, went back to the bus station, and found seats on a 12:00 bus back to our province. Not having to stand, I was able to read my book this time around!

We arrived back in our capital just before 2:00, so it was time for a little lunch. Big C is not far away, so we wandered in for some quick food and a few purchases before getting to our local bus line stop in time for the 4:00 departure. We were back at our house by 5:30pm, giving the entire trip to the doctor a total time of 25 1/2 hours.

The photo shows Robert at the bus station in our provincial capital. It was taken in January, hence the sweatshirt.

Indian Restaurant Vegetarian Food

We have learned to interpret the recommendations of the Lonely Planet guidebook series with some skepticism. Their descriptions of lodging and food, though never entirely off the mark, will often have some error or omission that we'll wish we had known about sooner. Their listing of "Indian Restaurant Vegetarian Food" in Chiang Mai, however, was right on.

We arrived in Chiang Mai after dark on Friday evening. Hungry for some cheap but moderately healthy food, we called over to the restaurant to make sure they were open. "Oh, yes, come on in," they said. "What time do you close?" we asked. "Oh, whatever time is good for you," the woman replied.

We walked the short distance from our guest house to the restaurant. Located on a busy but quiet lane with many shops catering to the backpacker tourist crowd, Indian Restaurant Vegetarian Food looks like a small cafeteria with about 6 or 7 tables. Bollywood music videos were playing on the television, and the white walls were decorated with an assortment of Thai and Indian posters. Only one table was already occupied when we arrived, but by the time we left an hour later they were all full. A stout gentlemen with grey-black hair brought us our menu. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "Yes, we're very hungry!" we replied. I ordered some samosas to start.

The all-vegetarian menu contained all the standard curries, with a few additional options. We decided to each order a "thali" -- a selection of curries with rice and flatbread. When the stout gentleman arrived with our samosas, he was ready to take our order. "So you'll be having a thali and a dosa?" he asked. "No," we said, "we each want a thali." "Ok, a thali and a dosa, big for you to share," he continued. We looked at each other. "No, we don't want dosa. Just two thalis," we tried again.

"Oh, two thalis!" he answered. "Ok. So you will have some lentils, some paneer, and some capsicum curries?"
"Well, can we choose our own curries?" we asked hesitantly.
"Choose, ok."
"I would like lentils, chickpeas..." Robert started.
"No chickpeas. How about capsicum?" said the gentleman.
"Err... how about these potatoes and peas?" tried Robert. "And some potatoes and tomatoes?"
"Ok, and one more," said the man. "You want capsicum?"
"How about potatoes and paneer?" Robert asked.
"Potatoes potatoes potatoes!" exclaimed the gentleman. "All you are eating is potatoes!"
"I like potatoes," Robert replied.

"Ok," the gentleman turned to me, "and you will have four different curries that I will choose for you?"
"Well, I would like dahl too," I started.
"Ok, dahl too," he replied, "and capsicum?"
Capsicum (bell pepper) curry didn't sound very appealing to me, no matter how much he was pushing it. "Can I have yellow pumpkin?" I asked.
"Ok, he said." "And capsicum?"
"And how about spinach and paneer?" I continued.
"Ok, and then capsicum?"
I gave up. "Ok, I'll try the capsicum." I said. We ordered two mango lassis and dove into our samosas as soon as he was gone. They were outstanding, though better on their own than with the accompanying sauce.

While waiting for the arrival of our thalis, we watched the woman in the kitchen, presumably the wife of the gentleman who took our order, juggle the various pots and pans on the stove. It seemed to be very much a family operation.

When the food came, we were not disappointed. The dahl was fantastic. Although there were a few changes from what we remembered ordering (we both ended up with capsicum), everything was delicious. The individual flavors in each curry stood out well, especially the yellow pumpkin. The flatbread was good, and the rice was an aromatic variety I haven't seen in Thailand. The mango lassies were refreshing and not too sweet.

At the end of the meal, our total bill -- including samosas, 4 scoops of curry apiece, rice, flatbread, water, and mango lassis -- came to just 290 baht, or about $7.50. We were impressed. Completely stuffed, we walked back to our guesthouse and vowed to return to the gentleman's Indian restaurant as often as possible. If he pushes the capsicum, we may take him up on it again.

To get to Indian Restaurant Vegetarian Food, enter Soi 9 off Moon Muang Road (along the moat). A short walk down the soi, the Local pub will be on your right. Turn left to walk away from it and you'll see the big white free-standing sign listing cheap Indian vegetarian foods.

Spitting Llamas?

"How about a giraffe? What sound does a giraffe make?"
"I don’t think a giraffe makes a sound."
"A penguin? That can’t make a very fun sound. How about a beaver?"
"A beaver probably makes a sound like this: (gnaw and cluck with front teeth sticking out)."
"Yeah! That’s good for a beaver. They’ll like that. What else?"
"Does a llama make a sound?"
"That llama on Sesame Street used to make a squealing sound, but it wasn’t very pleasant."
"How about if it sort of snorts and spits? A llama might do that. But then the kids might all start spitting instead of singing..."
"Maybe if we do the llama last, then the song will be almost over anyway, so they won’t have a lot of time to spit."
(Pause)
"Can you believe this is our dinner table conversation?"
"Yeah, why did I bother learning the Library of Congress catalog system, writing a thesis on Quebec’s Quiet Revolution, and studying Foucault’s theories of post-modernism in history?"

If you had been a gecko on the wall around 6:30pm in our pink house, as I was clearing the dishes and Robert was finishing off his pad si iew (stir-fried noodles with soy sauce), you would have heard an extended version of the above conversation. It took place at the end of the first of two days of the English camp we are running for 6th graders at 5 schools in our town. There are 129 students, divided into 8 groups, with each group represented by an animal that lives primarily outside southeast Asia.*

The camp is actually a science and English camp, with 8 different stations. Our four English stations include Animals Around the World, Landforms, Weather, and Conservation. To liven up the Weather station a little, we selected vocabulary words like "typhoon" and "blizzard" instead of "rain" and "snow".

Overall, the first day went well. The teachers enjoyed their stations, and the kids said they were having fun. We’re trying to liven a few activities up for tomorrow, though, and the snippet of conversation above is part of our attempt to map out "Old MacDonald Had a Zoo" for the morning’s opening song.

One highlight of my day, unrelated to spitting llamas, was discovering a bizarre Thai dessert that I actually liked. Usually I don’t like traditional Thai desserts, because they either a) are gelatinous in texture and come in colors like fluorescent pink and green, or b) have a meat filling, like pork or shrimp. There is a particular dessert, though, that is only partially gelatinous and comes in a nice shade of light brown that I don’t mind too much. Today I picked up a piece during the morning coffee break, but when I opened it I discovered that it had a new ingredient that made me nervous.

"Ajaan Wirinton," I said to the teacher working at the Conservation Station with me, "does this have any meat in it?" "No," she replied in a reassuring voice, "you can eat that!" Ajaan Dara came over and verified. "Thai desserts are usually just sugar and coconut milk, no meat!" they agreed. "That one just has some onions! It’s still vegetarian!"

"Right..." I thought, "just some onions. Exactly what I expect to find in my dessert!" But I took a bite, and what do you know, it was really good. So there you have it: sugar, coconut milk, and crispy fried onions: a surprisingly tasty treat.

*The animals, in addition to giraffes, penguins, beavers, and llamas, include kangaroos, woodpeckers, hippos, and camels.
And yes, Robert really did make the commend about Foucault’s theories, etc.

Neighbors

Growing up in the Merriam Park and Macalester-Groveland neighborhoods of St. Paul, I was used to wide streets, front and back lawns, grassy boulevards, and plenty of space between houses. It was rare to hear neighbors talking inside their house, listening to their music, or cooking their food.

Life in our small town has been a good crash course in high-density housing – at least the kind you might encounter in a hot climate where most doors and windows are open most of the time. Few secrets could be held in our town, because you can hear much of what is happening in the neighbors’ homes. We know when they are making dinner, watching TV, taking a bath, yelling, or playing. Fortunately for us, I think, the language barrier works in our favor – I don’t have to worry about people understanding the conversations I have with Robert, and I can tune out much of what is happening outside in a way that I might not be able to if it was in English.

Despite the noise and relative lack of privacy, however, I have grown used to living in such a close space. It’s nice to know that if you had a problem, it would be easy to find someone to help out. Many of the sounds have grown comforting in their own way: garlic sizzling in the wok, wooden window shutters closing, chairs being dragged back under the awning for the night. As I type I can hear water running as the dishes are washed next door.

In the photo, our house is the pink one, the blue is next door, and the brown is behind.

Neighborhood Clean-Up

Twenty minutes before I left the house this morning, my co-teacher Warangkana called to tell me that today was neighborhood cleanup day in one of the villages that feeds our school. Good thing we didn’t have important lesson plans! I rode my bicycle over and met up with the students – grades 3 and 6 – across the river, where they were filling bags of trash.

A major goal of the neighborhood cleanup, which takes place in all villages in our area at the start of every rainy season, is to prevent an outbreak of dengue fever. Dengue is spread by daytime-biting mosquitoes who like to lay eggs in standing water. The students, together with the teachers and a group of local health volunteers, distribute little packets of "mosquito sand" * to the people in the village and help put the mosquito sand in the various buckets of water that stand around the houses. I think they also try to discourage people from keeping buckets of standing water in the first place.

I was excited to get to be part of this activity for several reasons. One, I always like to go deeper into the neighborhoods where my students live and see what things are like. I got to see several of their houses today as well, which I’ll describe more in a later blog. Two, I think it’s pretty cool that the school teams up with the hospital to do community outreach in the village. That’s a great example of working together. And three, I really don’t want to get dengue fever. It’s not one of "those" diseases "over there" – you can really get it here! Three volunteers have gotten it since we arrived in Thailand, and all of them described it afterwards as pretty awful. So despite the fact that I was sweltering in the heat and had sweat dripping down my back all morning, I was having a good time.

* "Mosquito sand" is not an official term. It’s what the 6th grade came up with in English class to describe what they had been doing. I assume the substance is some sort of pesticide. My co-teacher said that it would make us sick if we ate it, but it doesn’t kill mosquitoes – it just stops them from laying eggs in the water. The only words in English on the back of the packet are a brand name "ABATE," and the ingredients tetramethyl and thiodiphenylene bis (phosphorothioate). Not being much of a scientist, I can’t explain those, but maybe someone else can? The close-up photo of the boys shows one of them, Giangsak, holding up a packet.

Nam Prik Het

Most of the time, I don’t make Thai food when we’re in our house. I know I should be practicing for when we return to the USA and I want to make it myself, but it’s just not as delicious when made by me as it is when made by people in our town! But last week the teachers at my school helped me learn to make one of my favorite dishes, and since then I’ve made it at home three times.

"Nam Prik" translates literally as "chili water," and there are dozens of varieties of it in northern Thailand. Nam Prik Num is a basic chili dip made primarily with green chilies and garlic, and sometimes fish sauce or fermented fish sauce. Nam Prik Ong, Robert’s favorite, has the addition of tomatoes and pork. But my favorite is Nam Prik Het, made with forest mushrooms that spring up from the ground when the rains are heavy.

The ingredients in Nam Prik Het include: the forest mushrooms mentioned above (I don’t know the name of the variety in English, but I’m sure that other large soft mushrooms could be substituted); fresh green chilies; a bunch of garlic cloves; some small round green things that grow on a stem (I have no idea what they’re called, either, sorry!); and a little soy sauce.

First, you roast the chilies until they are soft and a bit blackened. I do this in the wok. Next, you grill or roast the mushrooms until most, but not all, of their water is gone. Then, take the chilies, garlic, and little green things and smash them up in a mortar (if you’re traditional) or a blender attachment (if you’re me). Add in those warm mushrooms and some soy sauce, keep smashing a bit more, and you have a tasty dip. We like to eat it with sliced cucumbers, green beans, boiled eggplant (not pictured), and sticky rice.

"Seven"

When one applies to and is accepted to the Peace Corps, one often has an image of the "developing" country as being almost entirely without modern conveniences and services. Certainly, many Peace Corps countries are this way, such as Mali in West Africa where my sister spent two years living in a mud hut with no running water, electricity, or telephone service.

Most of Thailand does not fit that description, however, as I realized the first time I stepped into a 7-11 way back during our training in early 2005. Not only was it air-conditioned, it had ice cream, candy bars, yogurt, wheat bread, Corn Flakes cereal, and Lays potato chips!

In Bangkok and other large Thai cities, there might be a 7-11 – called "Seven" by the Thais – nearly every other block. It is quite an institution. We’ll often duck in on our way to or from the Peace Corps office to grab some bottled water, a cell phone card, or some deodarant. Our town does not have one, however, which is probably a good thing. We have to travel 50 kilometers on windy mountain roads before seeing the bright red and green. I’m happier to support our local shops anyway, even if they don’t have M & M’s. A Peace Corps Volunteer does not need to have everything!

Khantoke

Last night we were invited to attend a Khantoke dinner at Jae Hom Wittaya, the local high school. A khantoke is a small round table filled with many dishes, usually including a vegetable stir-fry, a Burmese-style curry, a northern minced meat spicy salad, fried pig skins, spicy sausage, and various other assorted items. Because it is a traditional northern Thai-style dinner, all food is eaten with sticky rice.

This dinner was given in honor of a group of foreign exchange students who arrived in Thailand 2 months ago and are living in various provinces all around the country. They came to our province to attend a camp at a national park. We got to chat with a few of them, including one from Minnesota!

The entertainment at the khantoke was performed by Thai students at the high school. They did a number of traditional dances including classical style, swordfighting, fire-throwing, and drumming. It was very pleasant to sit on ground and watch while snacking on peanuts roasted with ginger and kaffir lime leaves. Mmm.

The Rambutan

Thailand has many interesting fruits. During my last 10 months here, I will try to highlight some of them as they come into season.

Shown in this picture is the lovely rambutan. Robert once described it as a red fruit with green hair! I usually use the prongs of my fork to slice it open around the middle (though most people use their thumbnails), until out pops a white, football-shaped sweet fruit with a big seed in the middle. It can be a bit difficult to eat sometimes – I’ve had more than one fly out of my fingers and onto the floor – but it’s quite tasty, and rather festive, too.

(The other fruits are oranges, which are green in Thailand, and some other sweet-sour thing that grows in the forest that I didn’t like very much.)

Sick!

One of my friends wrote me a letter several months ago asking what I miss from home when I'm sick over here in Thailand. This week I can answer that question very easily!

Last week, Robert and I spent three days helping at our school district's English camp for gifted high school students, which took place at a nearby national park. As English camps go, it was a pretty good one, but as usual we didn't get enough sleep and came down with illnesses immediately following.

The first thing I miss is COOL AIR. When you are sick -- headache, fever, sore throat -- there are few things more unpleasant than lying in bed sweating even while the fan is blowing on you. It keeps you from getting that sleep you need to recover! It also keeps you from wanting to drink the hot tea that might be so helpful for your throat.

The second thing I miss is HEALTHY CONVENIENCE FOOD. At home, when sick, I could easily open a can of soup and heat it up on the stove. Here, I can choose between more intensive cooking (the healthier choice) and local take-out (the faster choice). But again, when you're hit by fever, neither of those choices is particularly appealing.

The third thing I miss is TV, or movies anyway. Yes, we can watch movies on our DVD -- and we did, a bit, on Saturday and Monday -- but setting up the computer and speakers and all the cords is more labor intensive than just walking into the living room and pushing a few buttons like I might have at home. We don't have a real TV here -- and we don't want one -- but once in a while it might be a nice break.

The last thing I miss is PERSONAL SPACE. Back in training, our Peace Corps doctor said to us, "Thai people are very into being sick." This is true. As soon as our neighbors-co-teachers-supervisors-anyone else knows that we're sick, they'll start pelting us with questions: Have you been to the doctor? Did you take medicine? Are you drinking warm water? If the answer to any of those is "no," it will produce an additional flood of questions: Why haven't you been to the doctor? Should I call the hospital for you? Do you need a shot? Why haven't you taken _XXX_ medicine yet?

The questions are all very well and good, and they show a genuine interest on the part of our Thai neighbors in their desire to attend to our health, but sometimes I want to say that what I really need is a night in a quiet, rooster- and karaoke-free, cold building with no one to ask me any questions!