Mr. John! Mr. John! TOILET! Mr. Jooohnn! TOILET!

His hands firmly grasping his crotch, he shuffles toward the door with a sheepish, embarrassed, hurried and pleading look. He needs to the use the restroom right now.

::sigh:: I’m mid-sentence.

“Yes, you may use the restroom.”

He releases his grip on himself and rushes to the door, his wood-soled shoes sliding the last three feet or so against the polished-stone tile. The door swings open and before he closes it I hear a whisper from the ranks in my class. My eyes dart from the source to the doorway.

The gesture is universal, and communicates only one action…

…I’m gonna go have a smoke… he gestures to his friend, bringing the familiar V-sign up to his mouth.

“Get back in your seat! What are you thinking? I can see you…!”

My head hangs… Another sigh.

I exhale, look up and point to him, and then I point to his seat. His gesture was clear, and so is mine.

Get your ass back in your seat, communicates my gesture.

These are my students. And this gentleman, the crotch-grabber, is deep in his thirties. It’s the thirteenth week of school and I don’t know what his name is. He’s come to class a handful of times.

With another sheepish grin, he sulks back to his seat, unable to make eye-contact with me.

We’re in my English III class, and the day’s lesson is the second conditional clause, using the base + modal form.

Ninety percent of my students can not ask to use the restroom in English. One hundred percent have no clue what I’m talking about.

That’s pretty much how it goes for me everyday. Some lessons sink in, but the gaps are too wide to do any good. They’re supposed to be learning the nuances of conversational English grammar, advanced for many secondary-school-aged native English speakers and my students don’t have the grammar capacity to learn through context by reading around the problem. They’ve forgotten  basic sentence structure but I’m trying to teach them when to use an infinitive and when to use a gerund, and when either is acceptable.

My boss, Joe, tells me it may be the first time in their academic careers they were actually presented a challenge from a course, and they’re unable to cope with what that means. The deeply-ingrained culture of group-harmony  here has produced the ultimate no-student-left-behind phenomenon.  Homework? Four whole pages of multiple choice based on reading a 100-hundred-word article? And I only have one week to do it? Come on! You’re killing us!

Exasperation.

I’m a new teacher, and I haven’t found out the best way to deliver a lesson suited to their learning habits. Our language barrier is miles tall and meters thick. They signed up (they were given clearance to sign up) for a class they were wholly unprepared for, but I slog on. There are only a few more weeks left, and then I’ll regroup and re-arm. Maybe this time I’ll get a say in what books are taught. Student advisers? Course prerequisites? I’m just as clueless to their educational system as they are to the course material, and my understanding of the system is vital for lesson planning and delivery…

I’m learning on the job, and at least I get to laugh, joke and have fun with my students in between these futile gestures of actual pedagogy.

I haven’t been writing as much lately because, frankly, I haven’t been doing much other than teaching. I’ve decided to stay for another term beginning in October and I’ll have a few weeks off then. I’m planning on traveling then, but to where, I’m not sure yet…

I’m thinking about seeing more of Thailand, but I’m also interested in checking out some other countries… maybe southern China, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, Malaysia or even the Philipines or Indonesia… not sure yet, but until then, I have to shutter myself in and save money.

To that end, I’m just sticking to teaching, water polo and occasionally basketball on Sundays at my school.

But who knows what’ll happen in the mean time. I’ll keep you updated when something goes down!

__________

Right now I’m laying on my bed, writing. It’s just after six in the afternoon. I opened the panes of glass facing out and I rolled back the small window to the hall, and now a nice breeze drifts though.

From eight floors up I smell the cooking from the street. While the fragrant smell of frying oil, garlic and the aromatic sweetness of stir-fried fish oil and lime juice drift up, so too do the shrieks of laughter and adventure from the dozens of Thai children playing below.  Just as many dogs are barking and everything’s punctuated by bells on carts and the bits and pieces of a conversation between two Thai ladies washing dishes and clothes on their porches, sometimes they laugh and it’s one of the most beautiful things you can hear.

It’s a perfect afternoon and my belly’s full. I ate some five-spice pork from a local vendor and I love flirting with her. I usually eat alone and I prefer it, I think. I chew on a raw, fresh spring onion stalk, ladle sweet chile paste over the perfectly braised pork and ponder this beautiful community I’m priviledged to be a part of.

Buses, cars, motorbikes, bicycles, carts and pedestrians race or drift along. The current is complex but there’s a place for everyone and everyone’s happy. No one yells, everyone smiles and patience and compassion are as abundant as the afternoon rain showers.

and I’m falling in love with this place.

__________

I’m definitely coming back to Kanchanaburi when I have extended time off in October. I’m not sure exactly how long yet, but I will be coming back to just sit on this magnificent porch and fish, read, write, and maybe do a few oil pastel drawings too.

The day after our tour we debated heading home or staying one more day. This was a Tuesday and we all had to be back to Bangkok by Wednesday, but the question was whether or not we were going to stay or try to meet up in Bangkok with the other group who went to Ko Chang.

We decided to stay after a short discussion and I’m glad we did, but we ended up running through our various plans with no leads…

Plan A: Rent motorbike – go to Erawan Falls again, this time all day, bring a cooler and beers.

Plan A failure: No bikes available – drinking and riding not an option – too late in the day.

Plan B: Get another tour, this time only for rafting and Erawan.

Plan B failure: No ‘abbreviated’ tours available – too late in the day.

Plan C: I guess just drink on the porch?

Plan C failure: Buddhist Lent holiday = no alcohol sales.

Plan D: we got nothing… maybe we should have gone home.

At that point, we started walking up the road, just because we didn’t know what else to do. On the way back to the raft house I stopped in a book store and began browsing, not really knowing what else to do. Ryan and Ian went ahead and stumbled into a Thai house/business just up the way from our raft house because he had a motorbike-for-rent sign.

I turned out he also had some fishing poles he’d lend us and he also offered to go and pick up some live worms for catfish bait.

Well there you go… Day, our Thai host for the day, was so kind and so much fun, and meeting him was definitely a high point of the trip. In his 20s, he runs a small guest house on the second floor of his house and rents motorbikes, sets up tours or transportation and has a small “Internet cafe” setup as well. He has an intermittent British girlfriend and speaks amazing English and has a fine grasp of modern slang, which is quite difficult for non-native speakers to pick up, interestingly.

So we spent the whole day fishing, catching a few measly ones, not enough for dinner, so we gave the batch to Day, who said he’d eat them the next day:

The quiet, easy solitude was perfect and it turned out to be a perfect day…

We got up early and caught the tour bus out to Erawan Falls, a national park about 60 km outside of Kanchanaburi.

The national park features a seven-tiered waterfall that you can swim around, jump off of or just lounge around in, plus the hiking trail used to access the different tiers:

That photo is from the second tier, and the pool in front of the water fall is a great place to swim in, or you can climb up like our life-jacket-wearing Japanese friends are doing here.

So, of course, we had to show ‘em how we roll:

From there we just wandered up to the different tiers.

The fourth:

The fifth tier was the highest we made it to, because the last two were several hundred meters up the moutain and we didn’t have enough time unfortunately, but the fifth tier was pretty great as a place to sit in a small pool or dangle your feet into a pool with the little fish that eat the dead skin off your feet…

Unfortunately, we only had about two and a half hours there, so we had to hit the road, and after a decent meal at a nearby restaurant, we went elephant trekking… which was neat… but it was pretty obvious this trek was basically around someone’s back yard, and you could see all the ruts created from the paths these elephants must walk several times every day.

From there it was on to the Death Railway and then the Bridge over the River Kwae.

According to an article from the Singapore Ministry of Defense, the 415-kilometer Burma/Thai Railway, known as the Death Railway, was built by the Japanese in 1942, by more than 60,000 allied prisoners of war and 270,000 asian laborers from Japanese-occupied territory.

The construction became a paramount project after the Japanese Naval defeat at Midway, and while the allied victory at Midway was a crucial turning point during the war for the allies, the construction of the railway contribted to the deaths of nearly 13,000 POWs and approximately 70,000 to 90,000 asian laborers. Many were buried along the track where they fell.

Today, it’s a peaceful and beautiful route that meanders along the Kwae Noi (small Kwae). The poignancy of the railway’s tragic history was not lost on me, however, and the short trip we took along the track provided a nice chance for reflection.

Perhaps she was having a moment of reflection as well:

From there, we went to a small boat ramp and had a nice drift down the river on large bamboo rafts:

A few days before I left for Kanchanaburi, I finished Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and along this stretch of the river, I couldn’t help fantasize about taking one of these rafts for a month’s long journey down the river…

Our last stop on the tour was the Bridge over the River Kwae, about five kilometers north of Kanchanaburi.

According to an article from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission:

“The notorious Burma-Siam railway, built by Commonwealth, Dutch and American prisoners of war, was a Japanese project driven by the need for improved communications to support the large Japanese army in Burma. During its construction, approximately 13,000 prisoners of war died and were buried along the railway. An estimated 80,000 to 100,000 civilians also died in the course of the project, chiefly forced labour brought from Malaya and the Dutch East Indies, or conscripted in Siam (Thailand) and Burma (Myanmar). Two labour forces, one based in Siam and the other in Burma worked from opposite ends of the line towards the centre.”

After the tour, we spent the rest of the afternoon on the porch at our raft house, soaking in once more the beautiful scenery and serenity of the river…

Later that night, following the amazing banquet at my school, I met up with Ryan and Ian, who were all ready on the streets around Khao San Road. After we got together, we had ourselves a good ‘ol fashion KSR bloodbath and turned in for the night around three the next morning. 

With plans to catch the 9 a.m. bus to Kanchanaburi from the Southern Bus Terminal, I’m surprised and pleased to report that we did, indeed, make it to the bus on time.

This, however, despite our insane taxi driver who offered us a discount on the taxi fare, provided we went without the meter. Well, I’m weary by now of these ‘discounts’ and when he offered to take us there for 250 baht, I simply replied “meter” and got in the car. He was definitely upset that we didn’t jump at the opportunity.

The entire way he repeatedly asked us where we were going, for how long and that he’d drive us there, which I responded to each time. If we tried speaking amongst each other, he’d start singing over us and jerking the wheel/accelerator in rhythm to his songs to keep the attention on him. While I was trying to keep it together in the front seat, Ryan and Ian were convulsing with laughter in the back as a means of keeping their sanity.

Our fare to the bus station was 83 baht.

On to Kanchanaburi…

Famous as the location of the Bridge over the River Kwae, Kanchanaburi has been described by local guide books as having an abundance of bucolic charm and a place where travelers come for a day and stay for a week or longer. I definitely agree with that.

The river meanders through the medium-sized town, and near the bridge there are an abundance of small, quaint bungalows and raft houses – houses literally built on timber logs or large pontoons that are tied off to the shore.

We were taken by rickshaw from the bus station about two kilometers to the Sugar Cane Guesthouse:

Right away we knew we hit on a winner… For this holiday, I was desperately in need of something quiet and low key. A place to unwind and wash the grime from my soul I’d accumulated in Bangkok.

Our front porch:

I sat down and exhaled a deep breath, and I looked out and realized this place is just like many parts of old Florida that I’d seen and enjoyed growing up. Hot, muggy, flowing river, beautiful scenery, peaceful.

Of course minus the mountains:

In that photo, taken by Ryan, the river is so calm that the sky is almost perfectly reflected. A cool breeze blew nearly the entire time and bugs were kept to a minimum, thanks to hundreds of bats that would clean house every evening starting around 7 p.m.

The rest of that day, we just hung out, drank beer and gazed out over the river, incredulous we were actually here viewing this perfect scene and enjoying this perfect setting.

Until Ian tossed the room key to Ryan, where it hit his left shoulder, fell to the deck and slid into the river…

An eruption of blame followed, punctuated by my gasping laughter as I realized that for once, I didn’t have any part of such a blunderous event.

I sensed the beginning of what would surely blossom into an epic story possibly capped off by one or both having to get in and swim for the key (the guest house didn’t have a spare), so I grabbed Ryan’s DSLR and started shooting pictures.

When several attempts to snag the key and it’s long plastic key chain were failed, the realization that someone was getting wet for this damn thing sunk in. In between bouts of wild laughter at their expense, I stepped in and raised the point that it’s only fair that both go in… and somehow they agreed.

Take notice of the sweet resignation on each guy’s face. Ian’s dumb ass forgot to pack swim trunks, so he’s the one in the Halloween boxers:

They were able to fish around the bottom with their feet, hoping to feel the plastic strip attached to the key among all the goo, silt and hydra branches.

After a short search, Ryan’s foot stumbled onto the key, and well… Ian had to go for it:

Subversive jokes aside, Ian manned up and went down for the key.

Sweet victory was had:

After that fiasco, we got more beer and proceeded to take full advantage of the peaceful afternoon, now enhanced by the overwhelming sense of victory in the face of adversity.

Everything was just right that afternoon, and the next day we’d be following everything up with a tour to Erawan Falls, an elephant trek, some bamboo rafting down the river and a trip along the Death Railway…

This past Friday I met up with my friends Ian and Ryan, two teachers from Phuket, and we hit Bangkok hard. It was their first night in town.

I ended up drinking too much and almost missed my first of three three-hour classes, but I made it on time with one minute to spare.

The rest of the day was an uphill struggle against time and my dehydrated brain.

That was until my last class when a group of my oldest students (30s) invited me to a ceremony after class, honoring the incoming freshmen into the law program here.

Of all the things I’ve done in Thailand, this was one of the most spectacular, almost solely because of the company and the interaction with their culture. Afterwards, we were all treated to an insanely fun and delicious banquet.

In this picture, we’re all holding part of a white string that’s passed around and held as a gesture of connection and solidarity.  

The Buddhist culture here places much importance on group unity and group happiness, which really contributes to the overall well-being of Thais in general, I suspect. Ceremonies and gatherings always place focus on the group and making sure the group is satisfied and happy, and if a member isn’t, the rest of the group intervenes to take care of it. It’s warming and is missed in America.

Here, a monk presided next to an ornate religious bouquet, and was the focus of the proceedings. Behind him, an emcee led a long Buddhist chant. At this point I felt rather exposed and vulnerable in my otherness, but still happy and overwhelmingly honored to be a part of this experience.

Back in Bangkok, Ryan and Ian were getting their plans ready for the night, but I was happy to be there, experiencing the amazing ceremony.

After the ceremony, lockes of white string that are barely seen drapped over different branches of the bouquet were given to the teachers and administrators, including myself. At this point, students walked around and chose teachers and administrators to have bracelets tied, as a show of appreciation.

During this part of the ceremony the student kneels before the teacher and holds out his or her wrist. The teacher then takes one of the strings, which has a small knot tied in the middle, and gently rolls the knot along the arm of the student three times, one each for health, success and good luck, and then ties the bracelet. They’re worn until they fall off and I still have my one bracelet a teacher tied to my right wrist. Again, it’s an honor for me and I wear it proudly.

After the bracelet is tied, the student deeply weis the teacher, who responds with a wei.

From there we walked over to the banquet section and took our seats.

I was invited to sit with my English 3 students and before long, the food came out. I was baffled by the quality and size of the fresh fish and noodles brought out. This had to be a two or three pound fish, fried whole and swaddled in a stir-fried aromatic mixture of garlic, chilies, cilantro, lime juice, lime pulp, mint and bean sprouts.

We also had a whole steamed fish that recieved a similar treatment.

After dinner, one of my students gestured over and showed me a full bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label he’d been hiding in his back pack, and I could tell by his probing expression that he was more looking for recognition that I knew my whiskey and understood how luxurious this display was. It was rather amusing and when he asked me if I wanted some, it was all I could do to contain my excitement by casually accepting the small amount he poured over the ice in my glass.

Not to be out done, another student across the table produced a bottle of Hennessey V.S.O.P. and before long, everyone was enjoying some fine brown liquor with their Pepsi.

During the meal, I was struck with one of those now familiar and awe-inspiring moments where I grasped everything around me in the context of where I am and what I’m doing, but I just can’t believe it. It’s a moment where nothing makes sense and everything makes sense.

Am I really here? Is this really happening? Of course it is! Look around, that which you’ve been fantasizing about for almost two years is happening right in front of your eyes!

It’s always dramatic and profound, and I love it. When the feeling strikes, It lets me know I haven’t taken any of this for granted.

The karaoke machine cranked up and nearly everyone there had a crack at it. I’ve developed a confidence for public speaking and crowds don’t bother me, but the thought of singing in public produces mind-boggling anxiety and I just couldn’t accept the offer to get up on stage, and to this day I regret it and feel somehow like I let down my hosts and students, but I won’t disappoint again.

Before long, when the crowd had dissapated substantially, I said goodbye, gave a deep wei around the table and left in a taxi back home.

The next day we left for Kanchanaburi.

I’ve more or less settled into a nice routine here in Bangkok and I thought I’d share with you guys who were curious about the rote day-to-day experiences I have.

6:00 a.m. -the alarm on my phone goes off. At this point, when looking at the snooze ‘menu’ on my phone, should I select the up-and-at-’em 5 minute snooze? The semi-responsible 10 minute snooze? The slightly gluttenous 15 minute snooze or the I-might-get-fired-if-I-select-this 1 hour snooze?

Usually it’s three rounds of 10 minute snoozes.

6:30 a.m. -I throw my pillow to the side and do about 30-40 push ups on my hard-as-concrete mattress to get the blood flowing, which makes for a more alert morning.

6: 35 a.m. - I hobble to my shower closet. I turn on the spigot and cold water limps out of the shower head. I close the toilet lid because it’s right under the shower’s meager tragectory and I begin the daily chore of cleaning myself under cold water with little pressure.

7:15 a.m. or 7:25 a.m. - I’m dressed, I’ve packed my little briefcase (I have a camera bag that can hold my computer, my notebook, all my electronic plugs, my camera, pens and a few folded up paper towels for use during meals) and I’m heading down to the street to meet my coworker Laura, who no doubt has been waiting for me an x amount of minutes and will give me some bitchy, ” ’bout time!” remark.

7:20 a.m. - I walk down my street to a Chinese husband and wife vendor team who make delicious and fluffy fried bread goodies, which traditionally are dipped in a very hot bag of soy milk sweetened with raw sugar.

They met in an English class some odd years ago and the husband speaks English very well and is always interested in practicing his English with us, and I suspect the wife may be proficient, but she seems too nervous to carry on a conversation.

    “Oh! Hello! Good morning, and how are you?” he always says, with minimal Chinese ‘Ingrish’ accent.

    “I’m doing very well, and you?” Is always my response, which I say slowly and clearly for he and his wife.

    “I’m doing very well, thank you,” he’ll always say. A pretty typical formal English greeting for Speakers of English as a second language. From there he’ll ask Laura and I how our students are doing, when we teach, what we’re doing for the weekend, or when we’ll visit China.

During this exchange, Thais are ravenously piling loads of the couple’s delicious donut-like fried bread into baggies and dumping baht coins in the tray before skirting off. He’s always separating, stretching or cutting dough for the bread in precise motions while the wife mans a large wok, expertly rotating the different bread chunks with large, thick chopsticks in the hot palm oil. The pieces shaped like an”X” have more of a salty flavor while the fried dough balls are sweet. I always get five. Two of the sweet donuts and three of the X donuts, but I rarely get the soy milk. I’ve grown to love soy milk, but hot soy milk heavily sweetened with sugar puts me to sleep no matter what time of day, so I stay away from it.

7:25 a.m. - We thank the Chinese couple and walk to the curb, watching for available taxis coming down Khun Thep Nontaburi. Instead of lit or unlit signs on the top of the taxis, the cars here have little signs in the windshield in front of the driver, and if they’re on, they’re available, and if they’re unlit, you get the picture…

I usually flag one down and get in the front seat, which is the American driver’s seat. I tell the driver, “Sawatdee kap, bai mon Latchapluek kap,” which means, “Hello, to Ratchaphruek College please.” Inevitably, my pronunciation is incorrect, or confusing. The driver looks at me while computing what I just said, then asks me again where I’m going. I repeat what I said before exactly the same way, and always the second time he says, “ahhhhh oookkaaaaay, mon LATchaPLUk…” emphasizing the flat and high tones of the phrase, which sound exactly like what I originally said, but that’s how it always goes down.

7:45 a.m. – 7:55 a.m. - We arrive at school. Only a 15 minute ride with no traffic, it can be much longer depending on the time of day and when we hit traffic lights. The cost of the taxi ride costs anywhere from 80 baht to as much as 115 baht ($2.34 – $3.37)

8 a.m. to 8:50 a.m. - I’m at my desk, soaking up the A/C from our ceiling-mounted blast chillers, checking my email, facebook or playing baseball.

*8:50 a.m. - I browse my class schedule, determine where I’m going and for what class, prepare my materials, gather up my books, CD player for listening excersises, whiteboard markers and the roll sheet and head down to class.

*All of my classes are three-hour classes, and start at either 9 a.m., 1 p.m. or 6 p.m., so sometimes I sit at my desk until about 12:45 p.m.

11:45 a.m. - I head down to the canteen (what they call the cafeteria) and choose one of several amazing meals for only 20 baht. $1 = 34 baht.

1 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. - I’m in either in class or at my desk until 4:30 when it’s time to leave. At 4:30, Laura and I walk to the entrance of the college and catch a cab home, which is always more expensive because we have to drive about a kilometer before making a u-turn to get back on the Rama V Bridge.

5 p.m. - I hurriedly change out of my work clothes, carefully fold and hang them up in my armoir and change for water polo practice. It’s about a 25-minute walk to the Bang Sue MRT (subway) station, which is across from the train station. If I take the MRT to the Phahon Yothin stop (three stops away) I walk up Khun Thep Phahon Yothin about three miles to the pool where I practice. If I take the train, I have to wait an hour for the train, but it drops me off closer to the university, so lately I’ve been doing that.

6:30 p.m. - 8:30 p.m. – I repeatedly get my ass kicked by the Thailand National water polo team and members of the Australian National team for two hours. I didn’t even have to train that hard when I was playing every day in high school, but here it’s brutal, but I’m grateful for the excercise and the privilege of playing with such skilled athletes.

8:30 p.m. – 9:30 p.m. - I make my way home by various means available: Either I walk back to the Bang Khen train station and catch the train to Bang Sue and walk home from there, or my coach Ben will drive me to a local BTS (Skytrain) station, which takes me back to the Bang Sue MRT station (same place as the train station) and I walk home.

9:30ish p.m. - I eat dinner outside of my building, usually Chinese Five-Spice Pork, which is a favorite of mine.

After dinner I walk up the eight flights to my apartment for more leg conditioning, then I unlock my door, brush my teeth and pass out…

I’ve really enjoyed writing a sort of serial account of my first experiences in Bangkok and beyond, but I’d like to move into shorter and more frequent accounts of my day-to-day activities. From this post on, I’ll try and update as close to daily as I can. For this post though, I’ll give you a little pictorial narrative of my Nai Harn Beach experience and then just fast forward to ‘now’.

Since I arrived in Phuket and settled in at the All Season’s Resort…

I shopped here for odds and ends and meals between training classes:

 Had the best and spiciest meal I’ve had in Thailand:

I swam out to this island on my second attempt and snorkeled around it. The channel between the shore and the island is between 60 and 80 feet deep and you can see all the way to the bottom, which blew my mind.

Thought this was fascinating and terrifying:

Marveled at the luxuriousness of the local taxi stands:

Had quite a few dinners with my training partners:

Drank several gallons of this frosty beverage:

Took an expensive Song Thaew into Phuket Town:

Played some vicious games of pool volleyball:

Got served by the Black Mambas:

Kicked it by the pool almost every afternoon:

Met some really inspirational world travelers:

Walked by this house everytime I went up to the legendary Reggae Bar:

Got used to using a new type of toilet system:

Spent several nights at the Reggae Bar with my new good friends:

After so many beers reached a point where this was an obviously appropriate hat and where my friend Ian turned into John Belushi:

Took a ferry to Ko Phi Phi Don (Phi Phi Island) where they filmed the hit movie The Beach with Leonardo DiCaprio. This was along the way:

The Crew on the ferry, plus Becca, an Aussie we met on the ride:

Passing an inlet to another beach:

Arrived at the port and waded into the small town:

Hiked up to our hostel, the Rock Backpacker:

Took this post-card-worthy photo:

Ate some amazing squid stir-fry:

Took a long-tail boat out to some cliffs and jumped off ‘em:

Went snorkling:

Investigated Monkey Beach:

Signed up to fight for a free bucket (yes, bucket) of booze:

When all was said and done, my career win-loss record shot up to 1-0. Victory was mine:

Had one last swim at Ko Phi Phi Don the day after:

Eventually moved into teacher practice week, where we went to local schools and taught lessons. These were some of my kids:

1938 called and they want their school house back:

It was actually an honor and a privilege to teach at this school, which really was beautiful in its character and flaws. The students are also exposed to Bhuddism as part of their curriculum:

After a hard-working week of teacher practice and lesson plans, our last night on the island was before us, and like many nights before, we went to Reggae Bar and hit it hard:

Before we knew it, we were saying our goodbyes and catching up on everyone’s plans for after Phuket -where we were living, teaching and for what age levels:

After an easy bus ride back, the Bangkok 2.0 chapter began, and right now, I’m loving every minute of it. This is the view of the skyline from my apartment:

After about a week into Bangkok 2.0, I had my first day of school:

It wasn’t until I got to work when I realized I hadn’t called my parents to listen to their first-day-of-school speech, which I always loved the mornings before my first days of school through each grade, but I thought about it frequently throughout the day, about being a little fish in a big pond now. Only now the pond was half way across the world and I can’t understand the other fishes’ language, but it gave me comfort none the less…

Naturally I dozed off maybe half an hour before we arrived at the bus transfer.

Still, I didn’t know there was going to be a bus transfer…

Our urban leviathan pulled off the freeway and wound through what turned out to be the outskirts of Surat Thani, a coastal town on the western side of the “brain stem” peninsula. It’s here that many people take ferries to Ko Samui, Ko Phangan (home of the legendary full-moon parties) and Kao Tao.

It was about 4 a.m. and still dark, yet many Thais were forced to share the road with our monster of a bus (photo of similar bus). Bicycles and mopeds, in danger of being torn asunder by our bus hopped on curbs or pulled off.

Eventually we stopped across the street from an open-air market/eatery. After producing our ticket stubs, we were hearded on a small bus, about the size of an American minivan and were shuttled not even two blocks to a travel agency – a cubby hole of an office - where we waited for other buses to pull in. 

At this point I wasn’t enthusiastic about being in a new place, or a new city. I’d been traveling and had so far accumulated several layers of grime from constant sweat-dry, sweat-dry, sweat-dry cylces. My stomach was still in knots and I was anxious to get to Phuket.

About an hour later, a group of us boarded another of these small buses and we took off for Phuket, a drive that should have taken about an hour and a half, but instead took nearly three hours. Whether it was the fact we crammed nine people and our baggage into this minivan and had exceeded a weight limit, or had anything to do with the driver, but we averaged about 60 kph the whole way, through incredibly dense jungles and under towering limestone rock formations.

Three hours later… Phuket.

If you’ve noticed, I have nearly no pictures from any of these adventures, because my camera was stowed deep in my pack - a mistake I haven’t made since.

Phuket is billed as the Jewel of the Andaman Sea, and there are parts that fit the description, but it’s still a city developing from a third-world fishing and farming island to a world-renowned tourist destination and the growing pains are obvious.

Most apparent is the country’s inability to handle littering or proper waste management. Littering is an epidemic in Thailand, and a friend during training pointed out rather poignantly that in a developing country, an efficient and widespread waste management infrastructure isn’t likely in their top 10 heirarchy of needs list…

The driveway to a five star resort is littered with garbage, uneeded and discarded construction debris. Plastic bags, water bottles and packaging material are strewn everywhere. It’s surprising at first, but it is what it is and there isn’t really anything that can be done, except just trying to limit usage.

Anyhow, we were dropped off at another travel agency and pitched an offer that for 600 baht our driver will take us all the way to our respective resorts/hotels/hostels. I’m sure it wasn’t by accident that the travel agency was relatively no where near anything else, because the location discouraged walking. But 600 baht (nearly 18 USD) was a ridiculous fee to pay and I refused, hoisted my pack and set off, only to be waved back and told 200 baht. Welcome to the Thai negotiation paradigm.

By the time we were on the way to Nai Harn Beach, at the southern tip of Phuket island, I was alone with the driver, and I began to relax with the comfort that I’d soon be there.

We wound through some interesting side roads around bungalows, small houses, shops, restaurants and bars, through some more jungle and around a resivoir, which I knew was close to the resort.

And then there it was… we crested a hill and the brilliant emerald water beyond nearly took my breath away.

We pulled into the hotel and I dashed in with my pack to the reception desk. I had to check in as soon as possible so I could get to that water. I quickly decided that a trip to the ocean beat a trip to the shower. I started the check-in procedure as a young couple about my age strolled up to the desk. I smiled at them and they smiled back. Out of curiousity I asked if they were with the ATI training group and they were! I introduced myselves and was quite relieved to start meeting the people I’d be spending the next three weeks with.

Ryan and Shelley Sobey are from South Africa and freshly married. It turned out their honeymoon was a whirlwind vacation including parts of Africa, Australia and Thailand, before ending up at the reception desk May 9th, introducing themselves to me.

We agreed that a trip to the beach was a tremendous idea and after we settled into our respective rooms, we met at the beach and went for a swim.

That night, we walked up the road and found a nice little spa/bar that happened to have a relatively obscure sports channel and it just so happened they were featuring a live rugby tournament between teams in S. Africa, Australia and New Zealand, so we spent the rest of the night drinking beers and watching rugby.

A great day and a great night in any country.