I’m all moved in! Since Payap is having some sort of religious conference in which lots of people will be in this dorm building for five days, I had to move in with someone. I’ll actually have a roommate for once: Hannah! Okay, I’m all about having a single and being able to be noisy at whatever hour but no one can live alone. And two months was too much for me. Here’s for the best.
Right now I’m on Hannah’s computer, looking through her huge collection of music. (Scrolling so much has brought back my carpal tunnel). It makes me miss the RBN.
This coming Monday we have the midterm for Thai Studies due. I’ve been skipping on writing about Mae Chaem.
I was pretty irritable for most of the first two days I was in Mae Chaem because of the ride, but also precariously trying to be humble and communicate as best as I could with my central Thai. I could make good guesses on what they were saying but the parties on both ends would still somehow feel the need to repeat things at least a few times. Time to eat! Eat, come to eat! Go shower, shower to get refreshed, yes shower. I’ll be going to the temple, going to class at the temple! Etc.
Ban YangLuang is one of the villages of the ‘town’ Mae Chaem itself. When we weren’t going somewhere or taking language, we were free to wander up and down the one main road and between the houses. Joy and I stayed in a household that had the rice fields right behind their house and a gurgling stream that ran between the two.
Ajan Kai asked me about what I like most there: the greenery, I said. The lively, vivid green of young rice is always the most refreshing color to me, with a bright blue, cloudy sky following closely behind. This lowland countryside had both. And the occasional sudden rainfall.
Though I feel like I didn’t get as much enjoyment out of the trip as others may have, I eventually felt a disconnect. By the third, fourth day I had forgotten there was an election, forgotten such a thing as deadlines and cellphones. (There was cellphone service there, but I had my phone off for almost the entire time.)
When I had a chance to talk to my host family and my big sister (who went to Mae Jo University), I really felt how Americanized I really am. I asked them about the seasons and their crops, they asked me about my family and background. I felt like in some ways they were a kind of country folk spectacle for us while I was a foreign, mixed-up exhibit for them. I don’t mind; it’s essentially a cultural exchange.
On the last day, I was feeling a bit uneasy about our ride being late. Typical of me to worry when off schedule, no. I also didn’t want the locals to wait on us. In the lucky extra while we got to hang out more in the village, I had the chance to chat with a couple of the host mothers. They were the first ever for me to insist that I had good (not just decent) Thai. The subject of my family and background naturally came up. Schooling. Reasons for coming to the North (opposed to BKK).
One of the mothers was continually impressed with the Thai I knew and asked me if I had a significant other. I paused and only said “For a little while, yes, but lots of things didn’t work out so not anymore,” because I didn’t want to get into lengthy explanations that would surely involve lots of stuttering because of my goldfish memory for Thai. “Was he Thai or White?” was her next question. “White,” I answered, never knowing which direction that subject can go. I was about to launch into an explanation about the very few Thai people I know, and how I know no males remotely even in my age range, but she said, “That’s good. I think, considering all the choices and flexibility between a Westerner and a rigidly old-fashioned Thai man, I would choose a Westerner too.”
She’s a lovely lady, and I felt a sense of wonder from her as we conversed. The way she put this issue is the way many women here see the West; choice and a sense of autonomy is good. It’s one thing to dream of leaving a small town, another to be content in one’s ‘lot’ and something completely different to want to be away from so-called civilization. They’re all the same on one point: we all want what we don’t, and or cannot have. Try as you might to refuse this, but the mechanisms inside you inherited from two other human beings will continually shape you and never leave you.
When I am in Thailand, I definitely feel more loud, taking up too much room, etc. When I am back in the States, I do feel more passive and feel the need to not look distinguished. I always feel the need for some sort of company, and to chat a lot with my family. I love chatting in person. Or just chatting. It’s the best thing to do here on this planet. Except for listening to and or playing instruments.