Driving Miss Crazy - Part 3: Mass Transit

I come from a city where mass transit is a daily part of life. Whether it be the number 9 express on Ashland, the 151 local on Sheridan, or the ever popular and always temperamental brown line from Fullerton -- mass transit was a daily part of my life. Here in Thailand, more specifically Lampang, mass transit takes on a completely different feel. Sure Chicago's Transit System had it's fare share of neuroses, including defication on seats; customer service that rivals the DMV; service that is often questionable and highly unreliable; and fellow patrons that make a trip to the psych ward at Cook County seem like a mild adventure in comparision. Despite all its quips and debauchery, mass transit in Chicago was something that I became accustomed to during my time in Chicago. So, why is it that I was appauled and fearful for my life when I decided to partake in the adventure that is Thailand's mass transit?

On Friday I needed to get down to Bangkok to meet my friends for our weekend trip to Koh Chang. In my usual method of planning, I woke up late, I wasn't packed or ready to go, and I was moving very slowly. By the time I was ready to embark on my adventure, it was nearly 14:00PM. Packed like a mule, I headed to the train station. Upon my arrival, I met what can best be described as Lampang Bus Terminal's version of "Julie Cruise Director." In short, it's a Thai woman who speaks recognizable and semi-coherent English, and answers your questions about bus tickets, arrivals, departures, and destinations. Given that I'd never been on a long-distant bus ride, I was very appreciative of her help, however limited. I informed 'Julie' that I needed to get on the next bus to Bangkok. In hindsight, I realize that this was indeed my first mistake -- I wasn't specific enough with my request. She points me to counter number 2, where I purchase a ticket to Bangkok on the 14:30PM bus for about 350 Baht. In hindsight, I should have questioned the cost, as it was about a third of the cost to travel by train, but I didn't think twice at the moment. Besides, the counter included a photo of the bus, which looked decent. Again, in hindsight, I should have realized there was something amiss when I was issued my ticket -- a flimpsy piece of onion skin paper.

Ticket in hand (and melting quickly), I use the toilet and wait in the outdoor vestibul for the arrival of my bus. 14:25PM rolls around and sure enough -- here comes our bus. For all intensive purposes it's the same caliber as the rest of the Thai buses you see on the highways. In true Asian fashion, the moment the bus arrives, all the waiting people rush to the door of the bus, nearly getting caught under the tires as it continues to roll into the parking spot. I slowly stand, thinking -- I have my ticket, no need to rush to get on this bus. I stand in the back of the queue and wait my turn, realizing that though I may be American and question all authority, I still know how to stand in line and wait my turn. No sooner do I make my presence known at the back of the queue, when one of the bus workers quickly takes on the roll of Moses and parts the sea of anxious Thai people. I am quickly motioned to the door, where I am offered a front row seat. While this seat has the most leg room, hindsight proves that this is one of the worst places to sit on the entire bus. Sitting down, it's me and a very androgynous Thai teenager in the very front left-hand side of the bus. In front of us is a HUGE window with the curtains pulled to the sides. Again, this seems amazing at the time, but I will quickly learn that it is not the blessing I originally thought it was.

All the passengers aboard, the bus pulls from the station and we begin our trek to Bangkok. For those of you who are geographically unaware, the northern part of Thailand is semi-mountainous. Not quite the Rockies, but similar to Appalachia. I should be thankful that the mountains do not extend much further beyond Lampang, because our bus driver -- though I'd still like to see some credentials on that one -- was taking the sharp turns and winding roads as though we were late for a dinner date with the Royal Family. I was in the asile seat, and it took every ounce of self control not to brace my feet against the partitian in front of our seats. I've never tried to concentrate on a book so hard in my life - anything to take my eyes from the large window of death that was directly in front of me. Foolishly, I looked for a seat belt, harness, rope, twine, rubberbands -- anything to keep me strapped to my seat, should this bus go careening off the road and into a steep mountain ravine. My hopes of safety gear (as I suspected) were quickly dashed, instead I just sat hugging my backpack on my lap. I figured if we do crash and I go flying through the window, at least the pack will help cushion some of the impact -- like a popsicle stick as a turnakit on a broken leg. After I curse myself for not packing my Xanax, I try to relax and read my book -- looking up every now and again for death to come hurdling through the front window, Final Destination style.

One freaked-out hour later, we make our first stop. Though this is not a bus stop, it's a police barricade. Nothing will take your mind off a burning bus of death, quite like an army of militia toting guns onto your bus and inspecting your identification. Being the only white face on the bus, I expected some deliberation with my identification, but surprisingly, they glanced at my passport with the same interest as a fat man looking at salad. Ten minutes later, we were back on our way.

We began to start making stops, though none of these stops are marked with a traditional bus station. Instead, the bus stop is marked by a yellow canopy covered hut on the side of the road. Apparently, I was on the 151 from Evanston, all the way down to Union station -- and we were going to be stopping at EVERY stop. Just like the 151, this bus became more and more packed as we headed south. Imagine a coach-style bus -- similar to a Greyhound in the states. Now imagine that EVERYONE gets a ride, regardless of available seats. That's right -- the aisles were packed full. At this point, I had moved to the window seat, and lucky for me because the person next to me had someone sitting in their lap. I guess that was their version of a "backpack" should they be catapulted through front window during a crash. At one point, it was so crowded that there were a group of people crowding even the driver -- as though he needed to be any more distracted.

My memory of Chicago's transit system does not include the bygone days of CTA tokens or paying the bus driver directly, and thank goodness! Imagine taking 22 Clark Street bus, and with each passenger, the bus driver not only needs to make change, but also needs to stay on schedule (I realize schedule & CTA are a bit of a oxymoron, but humor me). Well, that's exactly what happened on this bus. There was one driver on the bus, and one 'attendant' on the bus. Much like the over-crowded CTA customer service station, this individual had no function other than wearing a suit and collecting money. However, the bus driver was the one who made change for the attendant. So, not only are we buzzing down the highway at extraordinary speeds, where the horn is used instead of the break pedal; the bus driver is also making change like a ice cream man in the suburbs. Already in fear of my life, I had to shoot up a prayer, though secretly I wished I was shooting up some morphine.

This is the scene for nearly 8 of the 12 hours we are driving down to Bangkok. As we find ourselves about 1 hour from our final destination, it would only make sense that we would stop for food for 45 minutes. I'm not talking they pulled into the Highland Park Oasis off 355, heck, I'd settle for the Des Plaines Oasis off 90/94. No such luck. We pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned petrol station that has about 5 woman with their cooking stands -- all selling the same rice and egg dish. They say when you're body is in "flight" mode, it suspends all normal bodily functions. This must have been the case for my tension ridden body, because it was at that point that I realized I drank nearly 1.5 liters of water and hadn't need to use the toilet. Not wanting to add insult to injury, I decided to not press my luck by eating questionable food from the side of the Thai highway. Besides, I didn't even want to imagine the bathroom on our steel cage of death we called a bus. Though, from years of road-tripping, I realize that you should always try to go when you have the opportunity, therefore I followed suit and peed in a bush and used the time to stretch my legs. Nothing says uncomfortable quite like 184cm crammed into a space designed for about half that.

Around 12:30AM, our bus finally rolled into the Bangkok bus terminal. I wanted to race off the bus immediately and kiss the ground, but in true Asian fashion I was out manuvered by even the littlest of old ladies who were throwing elbows to get off the bus. Maybe the bus ride made them realize they have limited time -- they were running to "carpe diem." I finally arrived at my friend Mango's apartment around 1:15AM. Exhausted and beat I wanted to lay down and not think of any more bus rides. As I begin to relax, I was quickly reminded that we will be taking a bus to Koh Chang the following morning -- at 07:30AM. Nothing puts you to sleep quite like post-traumatic stress, unless it's anxiety ridden thoughts about having to endure the experience all over again. My only request before I went to bed -- I'd like a seat in the back of the bus.

Return from OZ

As I begin to prepare for my return to the states, I can't help but think about our good friend "Dorothy Gale." I say good friend because everyone should be friends with either Judy, Barbra, or Liza (for those new to the scene, that's Garland, Streisand, and Minnelli). These three icons will get you through all of life's tough times! At this juncture in my life, I am identifying most readily with Judy circa Wizard of Oz. Instead of a tornado, I had monsoons. Instead of ruby slippers, I had Reef Sandals. Instead of a dog named Toto, I had geckos named Som Nam Na and Hoy. Instead of Elmira Gulch, I had LCCT. Instead of a Yellow Brick Road, I had roads paved in red dirt. Instead of the Emerald City, I had the Emerald Buddha. Instead of being welcomed by munchkins, I was welcomed by Asians. But, through it all, one thing remains true -- I was on a journey, just like my friend Dorothy. Her tag line was, "There's no place like home!" And with three quick clicks of her slippers, she was home -- back with Auntie Em and Uncle Henry in good old Kansas. Who knew amber waves of grain could be so welcoming.

As I begin my journey home, I am starting to think about my amber waves of grain. That is, what it is that I've missed so much from my previous life in Chicago. Obviously, my friends and family rank number one on that list, but here are some additional things -- though not exhaustive -- of what I am most looking forward to when I return home from Thailand.

1. Western Bed -- I am excited to sleep in a bed that is soft. Every bed I've slept on in Thailand has been akin to sleeping on a piece of plywood covered in flannel. I can't wait to be able to literally dive into bed, and not have to worry about the risk of breaking bones or causing severe trauma to my head. With that, I'm looking forward to sheets with a thread-count of more than 20.
   
2. English -- I am excited to walk down the street and know what is being said. I am excited to sit at a restaurant and eavesdrop on the conversations around me, or play my favorite game -- "Who's on a date?"
3. Stimulants -- In addition to being surrounded by mother-tongue, I am also excited to be surrounded by other stimulants. That is: the hussle and bussle of a busy street; angry Americans in a constant state of frowning and displeasure; incessant mobile phone chatter about mundane and irrelevant topics; black-eyes from Starbucks; wearing my iPod because I don't know how to function without my music.
   
4. Complex Carbohydrates -- After living on simple starches (i.e. white rice) for nearly 9 months, I am excited to welcome refined sugars, bleached flours, additives, and chemically processed foods back into my diet. I'm also excited about the 40 kilos I'll also add to my mid-section, and the sloth-like behaviour that will over-take my body as it tries to process these new and slightly unnatural elements back into its system. Bring on the aspartame!
   
5. Western Bathrooms -- I am excited to take a shower in a tub or shower stall, complete with glass walls, or a shower curtain. I look forward to not being able to sit on the toilet and shower at the same time. For me, it's very similar to having a latrine next to the refrigerator (sidenote -- I will miss the "bum gun"). Additionally, I look forward to having hot & cold as options in a shower -- no longer will my options be nipple-piercing-cold, cock-shrivling-cold, teeth-chattering-cold, or third-degree-burns-hot. I look forward to having an in-between. I also look forward to hand soap and paper towels. You don't realize how valuable these things are until you've spent the day at a petting zoo, and are about to eat sticky rice at a restaurant. There's certain things that even Purrell won't kill! While I'm on the topic of disgusting things on your hands, I should also mention how thrilled I'm going to be about not having to carry around toilet paper -- though I might continue the habit ... just in case of a "Planter's Peanuts" emergency. You'd be surprised how far you can stretch one square of toilet paper -- especially in a pinch (though not a loaf).
   

For me, these are the few things that I think of as I click my Reef Sandals and think, "There's no place like home!" My flight, hopefully not in the same fashion as Dorothy's house, will be landing on Friday, April 17, 2009. Until then, I continue to follow the yellow brick road, in search of the Wizard of Oz.

End of Term

Here it is -- the last week of school. My students are busy taking their exams, while I wait around to finish the grading. Let's be honest -- they all pass. It's just the difference between someone getting an 'A' (very few), and someone getting a 'D-' (majority). I've had people tell me, "there's no such thing as a bad student, only bad teachers." To this, I reply, "You've obviously never been a teacher!"

I sit here and reflect upon my experience -- 9 months! It feels like just yesterday I was finishing graduate school, packing up my personal belongings, saying good-bye to my friends and family, and heading off to the other side of the world. As I sit here and think about what's left of my experience, I'm starting to think about the things I will and will not miss about living in Thailand.

1. Fresh Food -- I will definitely miss the fresh food. I can walk to the market on any given day and find the freshest food. Fruits, vegetables, nuts, fish, pork, chicken -- some of it still very much alive; just waiting for your craving to end their existence. And what's more -- it's all so cheap!
   
2. Cost of Living -- I will miss the cost of living in Thailand. Not the standard of living, but the cost of living. Thailand is a very affordable country. I can get a cup of amazing coffee or even a whole pot of tea for 25Baht (less than $1). My rent in Thailand costs less than my monthly student loan payments. I can get from Lampang to Bangkok for less than $25 -- a 10 hour trip by train. Living in Thailand is easy and very affordable -- when you're coming from a strong currency or being ridiculous overpaid for teaching English.
   
3. Staring -- I will not miss being stared at like a monkey in the zoo. This is one of my least favorite aspects of living in Lampang -- the constant staring. Over the past 9 months, I've learned to stop smiling when I'm stared at, and hold their stare. They're almost always the first to look away. I guess it makes them uncomfortable when people stare.
4. People -- I will definitely miss the people. Not only the amazing people I've met -- friends, colleagues, lovers -- but also the Thai culture as a whole. Thai people are amazing -- very communal, and willing to help. They will purposefully go out of their way to assist you, and add to your Thailand experience. It would not be unheard of to be walking down the street (as a foreigner), and have Thai people come up and offer you assistance, or even invite you out to eat with their family. Initially, being from the US culture, I found this to be a bit creepy. Now, I find it one of the most endearing aspects of the culture.
   
5. Bodily Functions -- I will not miss the nose picking, phlegm hawking, or spitting. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed someone pick their nose and then continue to engage in some other inappropriate activity (i.e. preparing food, shake hands, touch anything). While I'm a big fan of certain bodily functions, I find the nose picking and spitting to be the grossest aspects, and better saved for a moment of solitude (apartment, bathroom, padded cell). Boogers are gross! There's also nothing more sexy on a woman than when she steps out of a shop, only to spit a MLB-sized loogie in the gutter. As Paris Hilton would say, "that's HOTT!"
   

While I continue to contemplate my next steps, I've decided to take some time and continue to enjoy the remainder of this experience. Sure, I could have flown home the day after I finished teaching, and started looking for a new job. But, I took this journey to be exactly what it's been -- an experience; one that will forever change me and help me grow into the strongest person possible. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I think I've actually digressed in Arthur Chickering's Vectors, and honestly I don't think I'll know the impact this experience has had until I find myself completely finished with it. Until then, I can simply say that the one thing I do know -- I will not be renewing my teaching contract for the 2009/10 academic year at the LCCT in Lampang, Thailand. My future is uncertain -- everyone's is. The least we can do is be happy, and enjoy each experience -- the good, the bad, the really bad -- for all their worth; a chance to be the best person imaginable.

Big Gay Uncle Josh -- part 2

It seems like just yesterday I was receiving the early morning phone call from my sister and brother-in-law to tell me the great news about the soon-to-be new addition to our crazy family, and my future status as 'big gay uncle Josh.' Since the initial revelation, my sister and I have chatted about everything from conception, potential first names, middle names, nicknames, pregnancy cravings, bodily functions, and swollen appendages. It wasn't until we started to discuss vaginal dilation and placenta preparation (they eat the placenta in certain cultures -- it's fortified with nutrients), that it finally sunk in that I was going to be an uncle. Well, that and just how weird a relationship I truly have with my older sister.

On Wednesday, February 4, (Thailand time), I received a text from my brother (Los Angeles time) that my sister went into labor on February 3, around 6:00pm (Chicago time). Given the number of different time zones I heard from over the course of 3 hours, I'm lucky I know that she was born on February 4th, at 6:19AM. Emma (no middle name as of yet), came bouncing in at 7lbs, 9 oz. and a whopping 22 inches long. And while I don't have a vagina, I have to imagine that was an uncomfortable 12 hours for my sister, and pain I can't even comprehend during the 5:30--6:30AM mark.

I knew this day was coming, and even now that it's arrived, it still doesn't feel real. I see the pictures of my new niece, but it still hasn't set in. I don't feel like an uncle, and maybe that's because I haven't held little baby boo in my arms, or heard the weird funny noises, or changed her dirty diaper, or had her spit up on my Prada loafers. At any rate, I know that once all these things happen, I'm going to be instantly in love with her. Until then, I look forward to hearing all about the new-parent blues that will inevitably hit my sister and brother-in-law. But what I'm really waiting for -- the recap from my sister, as she recounts all the insanity that ensued before, during, and after the start of contractions.