Hallelujah reprised

While discussing the meaning behind his song "Hallelujah" (a favourite of mine), Leonard Cohen described the idea as such:

"It's the notion that there is no perfection - that this is a broken world and we live with broken hearts and broken lives, but that is still no alibi for anything. On the contrary, you have to stand up and say Hallelujah under these circumstances."

I was in a car accident on Saturday night. We were straight through a light when another car turned left and rammed into us at a generous speed. I couldn't' say whose fault it was, both me and my friend Philip were engaged in heavy conversation. The force of the hit slammed my chest against the passenger seat in front of me, but through it all I was lucky enough to walk away with just some heavy thoracic inflammation/bruising as well as as a gash on my right leg. Thankfully, my friend suffered no ills aside from the shock that came the next day.

My head has not been in a good space. Most days over the last few weeks, I have intermittently experienced sensations akin to a cross between an anxiety attack and an acute bout of depression. The thought of the future pains me, leaving me almost prostrate with panic. I'm leaving Bangkok in 3.5 months. I know what it is I want to do next year but have no clue as to if I will actually accomplish it. The applications seem daunting, especially with my lack of access to a computer outside of school. Furthermore, there's just the fear that I won't be a doctor. That I'm not good enough, that I've just been kidding myself and fooling everyone else with the idea that I am capable.

I'm leaving Bangkok in 3.5 months and I'm scared. I'm terrified. I leave my apt and go for unnecessary outings because my head feels like someone has attached a helium tank to it and the whole thing is about to blow any second. But it doesn't, and it's not because of some inner strength that I have. It's because of my friends, the people around me. It's people like Alisa, Benish, Nathalie, & Nianne, that I can call/text, and say "What are you doing? Need to meet up asap" and that's enough for them to realize and understand my panicky call for help.

I'm not sure how to break out of this. I'm not sure how get out of my head and take the right steps. I don't even know which ones those are. It would be too easy to disappear, to forever live a life of mediocrity here, to never try to make it work.

You know, sometimes it's a very difficult thing to be happy, the world is full of things to keep you down. Lack of money, satisfaction, stimulation...But if you can find people, good people, that can make you smile, that can make you laugh, that can give you their hearts and the kinds of hugs that make you want to cry and melt into their arms, well...then you are blessed.

I'm not sure what I wanted to get out of this post or for you to gain from it - maybe nothing. Perhaps just an insight into my head and the knowledge that I'm hurting.

But I'm trying.

Hallelujah.

Ode to Joy(ce)

The camera zooms in on the kitchen.

There they are, the two laughing dark silhouettes. One is much taller, statuesque, her prominent cheekbones and piercing eyes would be the first things you would notice if not for her dominating natural height of 6 ft. She cuts an imposing figure in her tailored slacks and fitted blouse. This is Joyce, she is holding the spatula.

The other is shorter, less severe. She is mostly known for her friendliness and wide open smile, the latter of which she readily displays now. She sits atop the counter and her bare legs dangle from beneath her sundress, one of the many she owns. We shall call her Star, she gestures with her hands.

(Prepare the montage) The clothes are different and the smell that currently wafts through Joyce's expansive apartment is changed, but this is a familiar and recurring scene for the two of them.

It is a wonder that they are here today, together, laughing. They were introduced to each other in a manner that was bound for disaster. The typical, "Oh, you should meet my friend ________, she's black too!" The usual well-meaning friends that assume a similarity in pigment should further extend to a cohesion in personalities. This is rarely the case, but this time it did.

Joyce and Star have shared a friendship that has spanned most of the latter's existence in Bangkok. Joyce's strong will and icy temper has been tempered by Star's easy laughter and pushy optimism. While Star's often weak self-esteem has been reinforced with the other's Grade-J personality concrete.

The camera pans back towards the kitchen.

The lesson continues. Joyce is, as usual, trying to drill another so-called simple recipe into Star's porous brain. Star tries hard to concentrate (mostly) but the two of them know that these results are not likely to be replicated outside of this moment. Besides, their minds are elsewhere because this is not any ordinary lesson in torture (or, as you know it, cooking).
This is the last.

The camera zooms out and takes in the emptiness of Joyce's ordinarily modernly furnished apartment. Boxes line the walls, the paintings are pulled down, and even the usual cornucopia of high heels and stilettos has been put aside and contained.

The lesson is over. The usual grand red-oak table is no longer present so they will take their dinner in the kitchen while Fabien continues his work in the bedroom. Joyce and Fabien are off to France and tonight is the final evening that Star and Joyce will share together.

They discuss the future; Joyce's imminent departure and Star's eventual one. Promises to visit are made and assured, but they are both aware of the uncertainties. They smile and make merry; theirs is a beautiful, open laughter - Star's loud guffaws mixed with Joyce's slightly-muted titterings.The camera follows this sound outside of the kitchen, into the living room, and out through the open window.

The tears do not come until much later.

Fade to black.

Uncertainties

Today was the first day of class, ending the three-week mid-semester hiatus. I find I am still slightly terrified every first day, perhaps time is the only thing that can alleviate the nervous anticipation of delivering a successful lesson to bleary-eyed students whose desire to be anywhere but the classroom is wholly comparable to yours.

But, time is one thing that I now severly lack. Today, I had to make the official declaration that I would not be returning to the school for the next academic year. This marks a complete reversal from the position I found myself in a year ago. I have truly loved and have been so thankful for my time here in Bangkok but teaching has never been my heart's calling and there is a part of me that knows it's time to return to the path I set out for myself so many years ago.

So, as they say, it's the final countdown. In 5 months I'll have to say farewell to a place that means every bit as much to me as home.

The India that I loved...

(Mis)Adventures

There are events in your life that mark themselves in your soul. These life-altering events that you can never be rid of.


India was such an event.


"The first night was truly a haze. I was quickly rescued by Nianne, a bright familiar face amongst the hundreds of others - so similar, all clamoring to be noticed by me. One night in a cramped hotel room followed by hours of traveling in our van. Our little India family: Jaki, Nianne, and me, not forget Roshan, our silent but indispensable driver.


There are many ways to see India, I'm sure. For the majority of the experience, mine took place behind a few inches of glass and an average speed of 60 kph.


For four days I watched India pass by, variably uninvolved. There were breaks in semi-reality of course; food breaks, bathroom breaks, and the like. Ah, and don't forget the sight-seeing - the jewel of our trip. The majesty of my first full view of the Taj Mahal is one that is eternally imprinted on me. At one point, I pressed myself arms-wide against a small face of the inspiring monument to love - partly to ascertain its realness yet also to lose myself in its overwhelming facade.


Next up was Jaipur, also known as the pink city, a place certainly not to be missed if you find yourself "passing through" India - if there is such a thing. Jaipur was by far my favorite city, busy yet not suffocating and the beautiful Amber Fort could be considered a significant rival to the Taj for its size and beauty, albeit erected for less romantic means.

My journey till then had been spent with my good friends Jaki and Nianne. Nianne hails from Bombay (Mumbai) so was a grateful boon to our wanderings But, I knew what lay in store for me after Jaipur - a tearful farewell to my compatriots as they continued their journey to Bombay and I trekked out solo to Delhi.

If you consult your 'God's gift to travelers', aka Lonely Planet, about Delhi it offers 2 separate lists of travel warnings - one for solo travelers and one for the female variety. To combine both unfortunate aspects is to drown yourself in a host of advisories and cautionary tales, yet this was the city to which I set out. For my mother's sake, I shan't delve into the unfortunate encounters (ranging from the more benign to the truly threatening) that plagued my trip to Delhi from the very outset. Thank goodness for the seemingly exaggerated stories of danger from my Bangkok friends that kept me alert and possibly saved me.

All in all, I am composing this entry sitting in the Delhi International Airport a full 36 hours earlier than my initial departure time, so perhaps this is the truest evidence of the horror of my solo (mis)adventure.

My last hour in the city consisted of me choking back tears and curses over the shattered Bollywood illusions I held about India. I hated the city, the country, even the taxi driver next to me. I could hardly see the detestable city rush by through my bloodshot eyes, partly due to tears shed over a phone call to Tom as well as the complete lack of sleep since I landed in the city 16 hours prior.

The good man next to me must have noticed my despondent spirits because he tried to teach me the Chinese words for "go home," "happy," and "beautiful girl" (the Chinese only makes sense because I grabbed the taxi after escaping to the Tibetan Refugee area on the outskirts of Delhi). However, when these failed to make a positive impact, I suddenly found myself on an unexpected and unacknowledged tour of a number of the sights in Delhi that I never managed to see. Unfortunately, by this point, I was too physically and emotionally drained to even rummage for my camera but I knew he was pleased when my face broke into a semblance of a smile, my first since stepping into Delhi.

Oh India, so ugly and yet filled with wonder. I am rushing away from your shores but you have left a considerable impact. I am not as strong as I inwardly believed myself to be. The world is dark and I am expendable. Dorothy had it right all along, there's no place like home.

Click
Click
Click."

~ Delhi, India
10 October 2009

Hallelujah

So, about 8 days ago, I did something that solidified the atmosphere of home that has been settling over me in Bangkok over the past year and half - I joined a choir. You all may know, more or less, the love I have of singing. Every stage of my life has involved a choral group; choir in middle school, Varsity Singers in high school, and who can forget the amazing Sing Alliance of my Baylor days.

It is the Bangkok Combined Choir that claims these vocal chords now, I auditioned and joined upon a recommendation from P'Bee - our school's magnificent choir director (herself a long-standing member of the BCC). The BCC is not a regular choir in that it does not perform weekly or even monthly, but rather prepares for a full-fledged concert. The upcoming one is none other than the 3 day performance of Handel's "Messiah" and "The Creation" in the second week of December.

More than being just a vocal outlet, being a part of the BCC has lent a steady presence to my remaining time here in Bangkok. Most weeks, the days smear into one: school, tutoring, dinners, outings. The faces blur and I feel myself lost in the city's haze, I am not necessarily in Bangkok, any over-populated, polluted, high-rise dominated skyline will do.

S'pore

The skies have been grey, but my mood blue.

A number of reasons why but I hope to toss them all over the skies as I fly to Singapore tonight.

Off for a weekend with my good friend Nathalie and hopefully a change of scenery, faces, and emotions will reinvigorate my soul.

Bon chance.

Un(reason)able

I was on my way home after a long tutoring session when I spotted this advertising gem.

"Sometimes reason can't solve problem...
Let her go shopping alone,
Things will get better."

Ah, so that's the problem! I've been wasting all this time with words when my friends should just put a Visa in my hand.

Thanks Bangkok!

P.S. The advert was for a new condo... I can't see how that is even anywhere related.

Tuesday (Part 3)

M6 student: "Teacher Star, you have an increasing amount of acne on your face."

Thai teacher: "Teacher Star, are you thinking about going on a diet?"

Thai teacher No. 2: "Teacher Star, one of the M2 students is cutting himself."

Not every day is beautiful.

Curve

The sun is bearing down, but she has no chance to dab her hands against her cheeks and nose – her usual remedy against the spots of sweat and oil that abound in this heat. One hand firmly holds the purse and bag on her lap, while the other grips un-mercilessly to the back of the motorcycle.

She moves accordingly with the twists and turns of the ride. She watches the passerby children immersed in their football game – she catches the eye of the goalkeeper, his eyes widen at the sight of this dark, smiling apparition. She speeds by the men engaged in their discussions, their women puttering noisily around them.

The smell of the kebab stands pass over her and her world is temporarily obscured by the ensuing cloud of smoke. She catches her reflection at the top of the curve. Her eyes glisten – intoxicated on life. Her hair and the hem of her pink dress flutter in the wind, made cool by the swiftness of the ride.

In this moment, she is beautiful.

We are all.

Chiang Rai (in photos)

A few weeks ago, I took a weekend trip with my two good friends Sabrina and Nathalie to Chiang Rai (the northern-most province in Thailand).

Here's a nice photo blog for a change. :)

High School Blues

In this second year of teaching, I have been lucky enough to gain another title amongst current students and former students alike - confidant. I suppose a year is just enough to garner the appropriate amount of intimacy that makes passerby students want to drop their secrets in my ear - ranging from mundane weekend details to the kinds of disastrous love stories that can only be experienced in high school.

But recently it's become more substantial: students weeping on my shoulders because of friendship conflicts that have now left them in the cold, isolated from the rest of those they once called their closest friends; or others who emit tears of frustration because of their teachers. My shoulder has become the new hot spot in school.

In these situations, it would be impossible for me not to be carried back to my own high school experiences. What is it about those years that were so paradoxically life-changing and devastating? From those years I will never forget the slip-ups, the laughter, or the heartbreak.

With these students it is difficult to know my place, I cannot interfere for the sake of their friendships, especially when the other students involved are members of my own class, nor can I take the risk of making the situation worse by some verbal misconduct. The situation is even more delicate regarding students who are having problems with my fellow peers, as it is not my place to question or judge the actions of that teacher in her own classroom.

But, for now, it seems that what I give is enough. Perhaps they are not looking for a solution from me, perhaps they recognize in their own way that teachers cannot be called upon to solve all of the mysteries of the universe. They are content to sit and cry, and I am ever willing to hold the Kleenex.

What the teacher is, is more important than what he teaches. ~Karl Menninger

Tuesday (Part 2)

The purpose of this blog often eludes me. Now that I've settled into my second year it seems that much of what I write about will be the same. The same postulations on students, teaching, and life. Much of what strikes me as memorable or humorous often proves too nuanced to be written down, to be explained. Perhaps I do it for you (though I am truly not certain by whom this blog is read - other than my special, faithful commentators), but I think it is mostly for my sake. When I leave this place, and I will leave this place, it will be nice to have these memories - not ones dependent on the strength of my mind, but here, committed.

Tuesdays are hard days. My day begins right away at 8:30am and goes through 5 concurrent, separate classes, the last of which ends at 1:50pm. Though these count as 5, I truly only have 3 different classes as I teach one subject 3 different times on Tuesdays (and another 3 times on Wednesdays), it is merely the faces that rotate. As such, when the last of the 3 arrives, it is hard not to be snappy and impatient.

Such was my endeavor when the last of the series arrived, I worked through the textbook patiently and slowly. Taking care to avoid any frustration that might lead to another unfortunate blow-up. Today's emphasis was on vocabulary - buildings and locations. We went through the words, defining each out loud, to ensure that everyone could understand them.

Bridge
Expressway
Taxi Stand
Crosswalk
Sidewalk

Gym
"Gym, where you go to make Peem!" Ham yelled out, his fingers pointed to his muscles.

I cracked. For a few minutes I could do nothing but keep the book in front of my face so that my students (laughing along) could not see how deeply I was affected by the irony of the situation.

Let me backtrack.

Practically all Thais have nicknames, it's easier for me and for them than the usual 13 letter first names they carry. One of the students in my class so happens to be called "Peem." Peem is a runt, by all definitions of the word. At full height, he barely peeks over the table and his small stature is at contrast with his loud booming voice.

Thus, the idea of going to a gym in order to make "Peem" - a little boy whose body is somewhat lost in transition proved to be the perfect analogy for a perfect class.

At the height of laughter, the universe is flung into a kaleidoscope of new possibilities. ~Jean Houston

Have a laugh, it's good for you.

Ultimate

Today was a great and bittersweet day.

A group of about 15 of us met at a park for a farewell get-together for a friend of ours. The mood was lovely. People streaming by on their rented bicycles and the sky was lit with the colors of a thousand frisbees.

School has been busy and tiring but days like this are the ultimate definitions of sabai, relax.

The next few weeks will be just as busy but just a little bit more bearable as I have booked my ticket to paradise:



The Perhentian islands of Malaysia.

July 3 - 8

I'll be counting the days.

Mistakes were made

I held my books in my hand while the buzzing circled, increasing, around me.

The other hand was connected to my head, my fingertips providing the conduit from throbbing head to heavy hand hoping that the pain of one would be alleviated by the other, the barrel of a gun to the head provides another such example.

I was not sure what I was waiting for, but as soon as I saw it a part of me recognized it before the other half could react.

SLAM! My books hit the desk.

By hit, I meant destroyed.

"Do NOT write on the side of the desk with your white-out, if I see that happen one more time you will be in serious trouble."

All were at attention. Faces back, heads held so tightly tense they looked like they could snap at any moment. There was not a sound in the classroom but their eyes spoke volumes - they spoke of fear.

The damage was done before I could even realize it. Even after I tried to smile and joke, the evidence of my disastrous outburst could no more be swept away than the inevitable crater after a meteor.

The intended effect was present, the students worked away quietly and I busied myself at my desk but my head was still reeling which rendered me unable to concentrate on the work in front of me.

Why had I yelled at her? Surely, her minor act of vandalism merited a consequence but not one as harsh and as public as the one she had received.

Was it finally finishing THE BOOK THIEF just a bare 15 minutes before the start of class, a book whose ending threw me into an emotional whirl?

Or the disconsolate contemplation of a formerly deep-rooted friendship that had finally been unearthed before my eyes as the parasitic, one-sided affair it really was?

As trivial as the former might seem, it was, perhaps, a combination.

Either way, the patience and understanding I believed I had gleaned from the past year rapidly dissolved before my eyes.

At the end of class, I searched for her to tell her I was sorry, to tell her she hadn't deserved such a public humiliation, that I was reacting against things for which she had no part in.

But she was gone. I fear the damage will be set as it will not be until another week has passed before my gaze will reach her in my classroom again.

I swallowed my shame, my irritation, my worthless apologies and walked out.

Week 2, Year 2

Morning and afternoon, students bleary-eyed and full of life.

The first week could barely have been counted as such. The word English was rarely mentioned as classes were mainly made up of introductions and catching up.

I am teaching M2, M5, and M6 this year so I only have one set of students that are repeats from last year. Nevertheless, the familiar faces run everywhere around the halls. There is nothing more reassuring than being besieged with shouts of "Hi Teacher Star" and "We missed you."

What is about the grateful smile of a child that brightens a lackluster mood? Some things don't have to be translated.

Quarantine and other things...

So on Thursday morning, after a wonderful 6 weeks back home in the US, I began my journey back to Thailand.

The flight to Minneapolis was uneventful for which, in retrospective, I would be very thankful. The subsequent flight from there to Japan started off simply enough, but then a few hours into the 13 hour journey I arose to go to the bathroom and discovered that my seatbelt had come off completely. It wasn't just that it had become undone but the fact that it had separated from the rest of seat on both ends entirely... I got the attention of a stewardess (or whatever they're calling them these days) and 15 mins later she and the other 2 that she had called to for assistance came to the conclusion that the seatbelt was irrevocably damaged.

Free first class upgrade!!! Fantastic!

The rest of the flight passed by in bouts of reading, movie-watching, and sleeping... both alternating and all-at-once.

We finally arrived in Japan, albeit a bit jumpy after an hour or so of violent turbulence. The entire cabin breathed a sigh of relief when the airplane finally hit the ground at Narita. Unfortunately, the enthusiasm was short-lived when the Captain came on to inform us that we would be under quarantine from the Japan government and would not be allowed to leave the plane until they had done a thorough job of examining every passenger on the plane.

Damn Swine flu!!!

At this point, I was just worried about missing my connecting flight to Bangkok since I had such a short time between transfers this time around. Regardless, the flight crew reminded us that no-one would be allowed to leave the plane under any circumstances until the inspection was complete.

Thus, our plane was invaded by THEM...



I have never felt more diseased in my life.

They came on with their questionnaires, thermal imagers (to check for high body temperatures), and thermometers.

They inspected each and everyone of us, which took long enough, but someone must have not been doing their job well enough because 2 people were unaccounted for by the end of the horrible process. Therefore, after 40 minutes of the first round, we had to be submitted to another round so that they could identify the missing persons.

When we were sufficiently examined they sent us on our away with face masks that are so porous that they would do little, if anything, to prevent the stupid swine flu if we so encountered it in the first place!

Needless to say, I missed my connecting flight but was lucky enough to get put onto a flight on Continental leaving soon thereafter.

All in all, a crazy trip. But I'm here. I'm home.

A year older, but wiser...?

Happy birthday to me.

So far, I've broken my favorite hairbrush in two and almost had my legs amputated by a Mercedes-Benz as I rode on the back of a motorcycle to school this morning.

Regardless, it is still a beautiful, auspicious, and wonderful day and I can't wait to celebrate it with my closest friends in Bangkok tonight.

Today is also special because in exactly 2 weeks from now, I will have already taken to the skies - on my way back home to Texas after 11 months away.

Today is a good day... nay, it is a great one.

Leaving on a jet plane

Finals ended on Friday. It's been a great year with great group of kids. For my M5 (11th graders), we had a huge pizza party (complete with seaweed flavored Lays chips and chicken wings). They started off the class by having one of the head class boys read a note to me about how much they have loved having me as a teacher and that I'm the best one they've had this year. I was already teary from the get-go. We took a million photos and we ate a lot of food. Knowing my obsession with ice-cream, they presented me this cute little plate:

It says "We (heart) Star"... it was so precious.

At the end of class, they all sat around me and asked me to sing "Leaving on a Jet Plane," in the stylings of how I sang it on Music Day... and I did. They were quiet as I started but I couldn't finish the whole song because I got choked up. I've just had the best year with those guys and I really hope that I'll get to teach them next year in M6.

Although I don't have a recording of that acoustic rendition of LJP, I do have a video of my singing at our school's music day so if you're interested, you can check out the video HERE, that is, if you manage to hear me past the constant din of high school students...

Enjoy!