Holidays on Rice

Given that Thailand is a predominently buddhist country, I was surprised to find myself busy during the holiday season. While I'd like to give each event it's own dedicated journal entry, I will have to suffice with a quick recap of my December holiday season.

Saturday, December 13 -- Santa's Little Helpers

A small group of Ferrang and Thais got together to add some holiday cheer to some under privileged children in a near-by village. We started by collecting donations in order to buy each child a "winter" coat. I use the term winter coat loosely, as these coats would be laughed at by anyone who's ever had to brave a Midwestern winter. We took our presents to the village early on Saturday morning, where we proceeded to play games & activities, hand out prizes, and teach the children about the "real" meaning of Christmas.

Santa's Little Helpers

Sunday, December 14 -- Sunday Brunch with Bixby

When I lived in the States, one of my favorite past times was Brunch. It's one of those meals that is perfectly suited for a Saturday or Sunday (any day really), when you get together with your closest friends to get caught up on the previous happenings of the week. Another of my favorite parts about Brunch is the food! After finding a place to have brunch on Sunday with my friends Jen & Otto, I decided to spend some much needed alone time with Bixby. He and I went on a long bike ride, where we got to catch up on each other's lives. One of the most liberating things about living in Thailand is being on your motorbike, with nothing but you and the open road. It's very cathartic! Bixby and I found ourselves up at Kilom Dam -- about 30 kilometers out side of town. The drive was amazing, and while the changing autumn colors aren't much to look at in Thailand, it's a welcome distraction to the "hussle & bussle" of Lampang Proper.

Sunday Brunch with Bixby

Friday, December 19 -- Christmas at LCCT

What's more fun than a Christmas Pagent in a Buddhist country? I give up, because the LCCT Christmas show had to be one of the funniest things I've witnessed since I've been here. As though we need to give our students a reason to skip class for a day, and not study; the administrators at LCCT put on this "holiday" festival each year. The festival includes the usual kareoke, some dancing, a "funky dress" contest, and enough donuts from Mister Donut to satsify even the most voracious of Jenny Craig appetites. One of the other English teachers even dressed the part of Santa Claus for the students. It was a great day, and a wonderful way to start my two week holiday break!

Christmas at LCCT

December 23 -- 25 Christmas In Lampang

Christmas in Lampang is like Chanukah in the States -- it's recognized, but not actively celebrated by most people in the community. I could still count on getting a "Happy Christmas" from my fellow Thai teachers, but it was said with the same affection and zeal you use when you are wishing someone a Merry Kwanza or Happy Boxing Day. On the 23rd of December, a few of us got together at our local hangout -- I Love Coffee-- where we proceeded to have hot apple cidar, some whiskey, and some "fresh" baked cookies (Thanks Mom!). My Christmas Eve was uneventful, as I stayed home and read the latest book in the Twilight Saga (I'm a homo who's hooked on Edward Cullen). On Christmas morning (after talking with my drunk family), a small group of us were invited to a fellow ferrang's house for Christmas brunch. After brunch, we had a small gift exchange, and proceeded to lounge around watching television and enjoying the company of friends. That evening, we all went to our other local hangout -- The Riverside -- for pizza dinner. It was sad to be away from my family, who I love and miss dearly. But, isn't that the idea of Christmas -- disappointment with the gifts you are blessed with.

Christmas In Lampang

Guns or Butter

Growing up in my house, I remember two distinct things: One, we were never allowed toy guns -- not even squirt guns; Two, my mother always kept a well stocked supply of butter in the freezer. I was always envious of my friends who could have toy guns, and even as a kid I found it strange that we were never allowed to play with toy guns. I remember my friends and I had to be very inventive if we decided to play "war" at my house, because my 'gun cabinet' included a very flexible Barbie doll, a cook spoon, and an old T-ball stand -- sans home plate. I never could get my parents to tell me why we were not allowed to play with guns, it was simply an unexplained rule. As for the butter, that remained a mystery -- until just recently.

Years later, when I was studying to be a future CPA (Certified Personal Assistant), I found myself taking the usual business courses, which included micro & macro economics. To this day, I couldn't tell you the difference between the two courses, but my inner writer guesses that it has something to do with the scope of your studies -- very big verse very small. The other thing I remember about these courses is that the professor always used the analogy of guns versus butter to help illustrate the law of supply and demand. Being the self-taught know-it-all that I was as a sophomore in college, I knew without a shadow of doubt that the correct answer was always butter. After all, I grew up in a house where we were without guns but always well stocked in butter, and our household economics seemed to run just fine on that principle -- why would this change for the rest of the theories of economics? It wasn't until I received a failing grade on my midterm in microeconomics, that I quickly discovered that maybe I needed to rethink my approach, as well as my upbringing. In any case, I barely passed the course and to this day I will always choose butter as the correct answer for any multiple choice test.

Since I've been in Thailand, I've discovered that it is difficult to satisfy my one true craving in life -- dark chocolate. I've said it before, and I'll say it again -- never trust a warm weathered country when it comes to producing chocolate. Mark my words, you will be disappointed. The same rule of thumb applies to vodka and the converse is true of cigarettes. Know these things before you begin your travels -- it will save you the hassle of having a bad taste in your mouth.

My family knows about my obsession with chocolate -- heck, it's ingrained in all of us. I'm told it comes from the fact that my mother lived on Peanut M&M's and Twizzlers during our gestation periods. I tell myself that there must have been a Twizzler shortage in '81 because I only have the chocolate addiction. I'm not even swayed by chocolate Twizzlers -- just give me my chocolate! This addiction has only been made worse by the fact that I live in Thailand where chocolate is hard to come by and usually always disappointing. To be quite honest, chocolate in Thailand always tastes a bit like waxy dirt.

Since my stint here in Thailand, my family has been gracious enough to send me care packages, which inevitablly include dark chocolate. They were cautious about sending me the first batch, fearful that it might be a gooey melted mess when it arrived. After successful completion of the first parcel during the hot season, each package thereafter contained a little amount of chocolate, and I learned to ration. It became a game of mathematics & economics, supply and demand; dumping out all the chocolate pieces on my bed, counting out each piece of chocolate, determining the number of possible days I could have chocolate, until the inevitable day that I might run out. Each parcel was like Halloween, except this time I couldn't afford to gorge myself those first few days.

By the time Christmas arrived, I was almost fresh out of chocolate. My calculations were correct, and I was down to 2 lonely little pieces in my refrigerator. Sure enough, parcels began arriving the week before Christmas, and it truly was a chocolate fountain. This year, my Christmas presents included books and dark chocolate. After I opened all my parcels, my next step was making room in my refrigerator for all the chocolate. It was at this point that I realized why our house was always so stocked with butter -- you should never need to ration something that is a necessity in your life. As for the lack of guns -- well, that's still a mystery to me. As for my lesson in economics this holiday season -- Chocolate is always in demand!

A Year of Living Dangerously

You always hear those stories about people who smoked 12 packs of cigarettes in a day, and then woke up one day and decided they didn't want to smoke anymore. BAM! -- They quit cold turkey and never had another cigarette. I used to hear such stories and laugh at the obsurdity of it all. That was, until I had a similar experience.

One year ago today, I found myself with the worst hangover of my "adult" career, which is a bold statement considering I've been drinking since about the age of 17. I woke up to find myself in the Emergency Room of Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles. Sadly, I wasn't there to hang out with LiLo or Britney in the psych ward, nor was I sipping fruit juice with Pamela Anderson after our most recent face lifts and nose augmentations. No, instead I was literally woken up on a gurney in the Emergency Room, where I had spent the night -- no wallet, no keys, no money, no mobile phone, no dignity, and no self-respect. Just me and the clothes I had from the night before. I had vague recollection of the prior evening's events -- enough to piece together that I had managed to fall (not sure if I tripped or if I fell of my own volition), and dislocate my thumb. I remember the pain and agony of the ER doctor trying to relocate my thumb using only a local anestetic, figuring the alcohol coursing through my veins would suffice to numb any other pain I might feel. I remember my brother at my side, and then I remember being left alone on the gurnee to sleep until morning, at which point I would be sent to a specialist.

After sleeping for what felt like only minutes, I woke up feeling like death. My face had been plastered to the vinyl of the gurnee, surrounded by a pool of my own saliva. I was sure I had sleep lines all across my face, but I didn't care. I was transported by a cute orderly, and for the first time in my life I didn't make any attempts to flirt. I remember being wheeled outside, only to have the bright LA sun penetrate my eyes like two hot pokers -- making me feel like relief would only come once my head exploded.

I spent part of the morning sitting in waiting rooms, seeing different specialists -- all trying to figure out what the best course of action was with my thumb. Additionally, I was baraded with the usual small-talk questions, when in actuality I had already come up with the solution to my thumb -- cut it off and send me home! Finally, a plastic surgeon (hand specialist) was able to squeeze me into his busy LA schedule, for an afternoon surgery preceeded by lunch at the Ivy. This meant that I had to sit in one of the consultation rooms until my scheduled time. The nurses had taken away my only source of life at that point; my bottle of water. There I was, left waiting to go into surgery. Nothing in my system except for last night's alcohol, completely depraved of food and sleep. At that point in time, I was willing to sacrifice my thumb for the comforts of my own bed, a greasy brunch, and a gallon of water.

With my surgery complete, I found myself back at my brother's apartment still doped up on pain medications. Over the course of the next few days, I quickly discovered what my one night of drinking had really cost me. I was now without the use of my right-hand (I'm right-handed), which made everything a chore. Things that were once easy now became a test of will. I won't go into the specifics of it all, but there are certain activities you take for granted when you have the full use of all ten fingers.

I initially gave up drinking because I was on great pain meds. I had no reason to desire Mr. Alcohol; I had Mr. Vicadin by my side. I told myself that I would stop drinking until I was able to fully function. It took nearly 5 months until I was back to being fully functioning with my thumb. In that time, I had an opportunity to do some soul searching. I discovered that I was letting my desire for alcohol run my life. I would not classify myself as an alcoholic, but in the past I had made some not-so-wise decisions -- decisions and indescresions that could have ruined my life permanently. I saw my incident with my thumb as a reminder that I was using alcohol as a crutch to deal with certain aspects of my life. It took hard work to learn to deal with things without my usual glass of wine, or a stiff drink at the bar. But in the end, I'm glad I made the decision to stop letting alcohol cloud my judgement.

When you tell people that you've stopped drinking alcohol because you dislocated your thumb, they look at you as though you've just told them you've stopped eating food because you burned your tongue. In most cultures, non-drinkers are the social lepers of society. I've been met with weird looks, lost friendships, and judgement galore since my newfound days of sobriety. However, I won't sugar-coat it for you; I won't dilute it with gradure or false pretenses; I won't make it sound like it's been easy. The truth is -- I miss drinking! Nothing sounds more appealing than a magnum bottle of Shiraz, a cigarette, and dark chocolate. Mine is not a story of heroics or piety, but simply my journey towards being unclouded in life. Will I ever drink again? My only response to that is -- never is a long time. Until then, I take my life one day at a time -- making the best decisions for me and my life, with the hopes that some day I'll be stong enough to have my wine and drink it too.

Tea for Two

It finally happened! After living in Thailand for nearly six months; after eating questionable food from quasi-clean surfaces; after teaching Thai students in a germ-infested school -- I finally got sick. During the day on Monday, I started to feel a bit congested in the head. When I finally finished teaching for the day and returned home, watery eyes, runny nose, and total head congestion had set in. I was a mess! I had a low-key dinner that night at Grandma's, and got to bed early that evening. When I woke for school on Tuesday morning I had a decision to make -- you see, Wednesday was Thai Constitution Day and thus a day off from school. I could push myself to go into work on Tuesday and risk getting others sick and also weaken my own defenses. Or, I could stay home on Tuesday, rest up, and enjoy my holiday on Wednesday. Of course, I chose the latter of the two options. I sent a text message to the director of my department (sidenote - even text messaging is used in a developing country like Thailand), informing them that I would not be coming into work that day. Shortly thereafter, I pulled the curtains in my one-room apartment and crawled back into bed for 5 more hours of blissful sleep.

Waking up at 11:30AM, I decided I should find some food and maybe see about getting some tea. When I thought of tea, I immediately thought of the Thai Herbal Conservation Center, and tried to remember how to get there. I've been there once, during my first month here in Lampang. For those of you that have ever tried to operate a Honda Dream when you are congested with a runny nose -- not he wisest decision. Nothing is more fun than driving down the highway when your snot escapes from your nose and quickly streaks itself across your cheek, on its way up to your hair line. Needless to say, when I finally arrived at the Thai Herbal Center, I looked like some DCSF child, in desperate need of a wet nap.

I enter the Thai Herbal shop, which is a rather daunting experience in itself. It's like entering the cosmetics department of Saks 5th Avenue, but instead of cosmetics, it's a wide assortment of herbal care products. I am presumablly greeted by the Thai shop keeper, who asks me a wide-array of questions -- something along the lines of; are you aware your face is covered in snot? do you want me to hose you down? when was the last time you took your vitamin C supliments? I try to explain my ailments to the woman, in the hopes of being prescriped an herbal tea that will cure me in a day. Before I know it, I am satcheled with 3 different teas, and I am signing myself up for an herbal bath.

In my 6 months here in Thailand, I have had one full-on bath, and that was after I checked-in at the Holiday Inn Bangkok and saw the most amazing tub that was calling my name after 12 hours in a Thai train. Needless to say, I was about due for another one. After purchasing 300 Baht worth of herbal teas, I head to another building where I am quickly ushered into another room. This room can best be described as a room with a tub and a bench -- though this bench is too small for the "super-sized" variety of most western asses; it looked more like a step stool. The room is not very large, so as the woman is filling my bathtub, I quickly excuse myself to use the toilet. Something about the sound of warm running water, or a full submersion into a heated tub makes even my empty bladder need to relieve itself. In any case, I return to find the woman has stepped aside and is allowing me into the "bathtub" room. She begins to explain things to me in Thai and all I can do is nod without taking my eyes off the tub.

After the woman leaves, I quickly assess the situation. I'm not sure if you've ever had a herbal bath before, but let me explain what it's like here in Thailand. For starters, the tub is filled with a dark brown, almost black liquid. I'd say at first glance this looks like a large cappucino, but in reality, it looks like a giant bath of the worst cases of amebic dysentery you have ever seen. The tub is foamy and frothy at the top, and in places where the foam has subsided, the liquid is impenitrable to he UV lighting in the room. I hestitantly get undressed, all the while telling myself that this will be good for me, and that "bath time is fun!"

Completely naked, I hesitantly put one foot in the tub. The liquidy substance is intensely warm -- so much, you can still see the steam rising from the top. Slowly, I lower my body into the tub of brown liquid. My extremities are no longer visible once they are 1 inch below the surface. Before I can fully relax, I have to take a quick survey of my surroundings. I begin checking the tub for snakes that might have crawled up through any piping. Next, it's checking for the location of all the spiders in the room. And finally it's looking for the herbal tea I'm supposed to be drinking while I sit in this tub of mysterious substances.

Comforted in my surroundings, I finally begin to relax. For those of you who haven't done a detox herbal bath before, the process goes something like this: soak for 5-10 minutes, get out and drink your tea for 5-10 minutes, and repeat 3-4 times. So, I follow instructions and complete my herbal bath, each time re-filling the tub with "fresh" herbal water.

After my time is done, I can honestly say I fell 110% better. My head is no longer congested, my body feels lite and completely relaxed. After I practically float home, I decide to take a nice long nap. Awoken by my own volition and feeling wonderful, I decided to continue my day of relaxation with a quick trip to my local market for dinner, and staying home to read my book.

After finishing my market dinner, I lay down for an early evening, at which point I become violently ill. Suffice it to say that I contracted food posioning and was producing my own "herbal bath" for about 36 hours thereafter -- every hour, on the hour. In the end, I came away with an herbal bath, a hydrocolonic, the loss of ten pounds, and 3 days home from work. Thankfully I had my tea to see me through it all.