Letters from the Other Side

4.2.5 Harebrained semesters, batty Bangkok weekend trips and nutty vacations

Twelfth newsletter (Second trip. Fifth newsletter)

29 October 2008 (28 years old)

The five-month-long semester is over and there is only one more term left before I see your dear, old faces again. You probably wondered why I was so quiet with my newsletters? Well, the truth is it went bananas here. To make a long story short, two jobs, rushing off to Bangkok every weekend, illnesses, lots of antibiotics which the doctor handed out very readily and the allergic reactions it caused, impertinent teenage, twits for students, difficult colleagues and noisy neighbours have made me stark raving mad. How can one write, except to compose loopy letters and who ever feels like reading news that's non compos mentis? I feel like "Alice in Wonderland".

For the past year I've been living like a very privileged Thai (but poor Westerner), without a car, fridge, washing machine and kitchen (the Thais cook outside). For a year I haven't drunk water from a tap (faucet) and every week I sit with the dilemma: "where am I going to buy my weekly water?". Every week I go down to the "7 eleven" and buy six litres of water and carry it to my flat. That's my weekly workout too.

The past year, every Monday afternoon, when the students have cadettes after break, I quietly slip out and go to the supermarket to buy my weekly groceries. I visit the "Big C" and get everything I need for the week (except water). Afterwards I eat "Cow Muhn Ghai" at the food court. "Cow Muhn Ghai" and the veggie omelet is about the only thing I can stomach. "Cow Muhn Ghai" is a piece of chopped white chicken meat, rice and a chicken extract soup that's just delightful. It's definitely my favourite Thai dish.

I've built up quite a relationship with the motorcycle taxi drivers of Phetchaburi. I think I have single-handedly put their children through university. I have definitely been a desirable "falang" who has promoted the Thai economy. Not just a "necessary evil" as most Thais consider foreigners.

After I've done my shopping and eaten my "Cow Muhn Ghai", I get a motorcycle taxi back home. The taxi driver hangs a grocery bag over each handlebar. We put more groceries in the basket and I hold a box of milk boxes, my schoolbag, purse and at least two more plastic bags on my lap while I sit side-saddle on the motorcycle, balancing perfectly. The motorcycle sinks a couple of centimeters from the weight but call us off our trolleys, we still get it done. My balance on the back of a motorcycle is so good now that I don't even have to hold on to the driver anymore, just the tail of the motorcycle. In Thailand passengers don't wear helmets. When we arrive home, I quickly put my bags down, unpack what I can and return to school for the last period.

I buy take aways, weekly, at my favourite, local coffee shop, "Bahn Muang Phetch". I order the veggie omelet, a coffee milkshake and a waffle with honey for desert almost every second day. I am on first name basis with the owner and have even become friends with her over time. The ladies that work there know exactly where I live and where I work and regularly deliver my meals. I think they bless the day I arrived in Phetchaburi. My money definitely boosted a couple of small businesses in town and gave them a big injection of funds. I was a big help to the Thai economy the past year and a half.

I realise now, as I look back, that I haven't driven a car, cooked a meal, or taken a bath in a bathtub in a year (P.S. I shower daily!) I have lived now for a year in this intense heat and humidity and like a real Thai pro apply powder to my face every morning to keep the sweat at bay. Of all the things I've adapted to, the Thai culture is still one too many and seem unfathomable and deranged to me. I, even now, scratch my head most days.