Nadene and Nikki Dec 2011
Nikki showed up first and then Nadene. It got a bit crowded in the bungalow, but I had so much fun inserting them into my life. Neither minded the long walks or the meandering. Nearly every time I step out of the door is an adventure; some lasting longer than others. Back in school and it’s a bit difficult to focus, but I have Liam and Sharon to make me laugh daily. Nikki is in Chiang Mai at massage school (wishing she were here) and Nadene is heading up to the same school soon. There is no reason to leave Koh Samui especially when your friends love to visit you here.
A Long Revolution.
I lit some incense for protection during the blackout.
Somebody cut the electricity line while harvesting coconuts and we didn’t have power (which means water also) here on the mountain for 24 hours. I have been asked on numerous occasions “Why don’t you get a motorbike” and “what, really, you have no cell phone?” Not having electricity would not have been resolved by either a phone or a motorbike. We just had to wait it out. Not having electricity did not make me rush out and buy a cell phone, on the contrary. It nudged me out of my customary routine and caused me to question even clinging to the last remaining of my material attachments–my computer and my coffee.
Living outside one’s normal routine has a way of condensing time and elongating it at same time. While novelty heightens awareness forcing a kind of intensity of experience, attempting to preserve a routine (for whatever reasons we feel attached to our routines) takes focus and innovation in a crisis and in this case, round the clock vigilance that made the day lose track of itself in the continuum of time. I lived long and hard into those 24 hours and this gave me more time to contemplate what exactly seems “right” about choosing to live with as few conveniences as possible. I wouldn’t have been so attached to having electricity, if I weren’t so attached to coffee or my computer. Also not having a fan, made sleep more difficult, but seems minor by contrast.
Samui is beginning to feel the effects of the floods in Bangkok in terms of goods available. There are not as many things on the shelves in stores. There are few things I purchase regularly from the store: apples, toilet paper, biscuits and cream, real cream for my single cup of coffee in the morning. That is the extent of my regular list. The coffee, as far as I am concerned, is the luxury I am willing to work the hardest for. I’ll get up early and walk long distances for coffee beans, paper filters and cream. The other things on the list I will make allowances for– paper receipts and napkins make due in a pinch and every bathroom is fitted with what teacher Sharon affectionately refers to as “the bum gun.” I’m ok if I have no paper in the bathroom or biscuits to snack on….but coffee, I am not willing to compromise much in its regard. It has to be right, or really, frankly, not at all. This preference was tested in those 24 hours without electricity. My attachment to this carefully refined and groomed “practice” became the theme of last nights power outage.
The cream on this island, which was already a splurge at 135-150 Baht a pint, disappeared from the shelves last week and the only cream available was a different brand at double its price. I wouldn’t buy it. On 3 separate occasions I hunted for cream in all the locations I knew about. The occasion in the center of the three acted as a buffer to the occasions on the periphery where I purchased a very small (and terribly expensive) ration to get me through until “my cream” came back. I also tried coffee with canned milk that tasted like dust; I tried it black and then I finally broke down yesterday and bought the 289 Baht pint of heavy cream. I even bought a bag of ice and positioned behind the cream in my backpack for the long, hot and bouncy walk home. It was when I returned home that I discovered I had no power and that meant no refrigeration and also no means to heat water.
I had already had my morning cup so my thoughts dove into devising ways to keep the cream from spoiling through the power outage. I put it in the freezer with the bag of ice and walked to school to see if there was power there and to call the landlord. I brought my computer too to charge the battery because I still had internet access. Coffee and the internet are my morning routine. Finding the school replete with electrical power, I decided my cream would be safe while I did the HHH (hash house harriers) hike and hoped the power would be restored by the time I returned home. Later that evening, I found my house dark, but the ice thick on the inside of the freezer and my melting bag were keeping the cream cold and I knew it would last until morning. At 5 AM I loaded my stainless bottle in my backpack and walked to the 24 hour Family Mart. There I bought 4 bags of ice and filled my bottle with hot water. My coffee wasn’t as hot as usual, but tasty enough. Power was restored by early afternoon but I had already begun to question my attachment and to be fair, this questioning started when I couldn’t find cream and ended as soon as I laid down the money for the expensive pint. So, really, this was just a continuation of something begun earlier in the week.
I think that is perfectly normal to have attachments to things, but I am bothered by having them. So I ask myself (and humanity too, because I think its necessarily a question of this in the end), how would it serve me better to be unattached and why am I bothered by having attachments? Its not the inconvenience of having them. It goes deeper because actually having an attachment gives my life structure and routine and I have often felt when I have no desire a sort of emptiness or non-existence, almost as if I cease to be. A state of nihilism is certainly not the aim. I am not sure what it’s about exactly, but I am fairly certain that if the power outage had continued for much longer, I would have been far more concerned with learning to live without electricity (and coffee with cream) than ways to restore it and I am pretty sure that this kind of thinking is not the norm.
Living without Planning
The rainy season has begun.
The rains have come steady and persistent, but so far, I welcome them. They are heavy, occur at predictable intervals at times not too inconvenient and do not last all day. Last year our road was washed out during rainy season, but they have built it up again (mostly complete) with a new design. The sloping ravine is now supported by nearly vertical walls built mostly by hand without the use of heavy equipment. I can see already, however, how much water will eventually pour down my soi (street). I am watching that ravine.
2 weeks ago there was no water here. It fills quickly after a few minutes of rain.
Despite having a 10″ gecko in my bedroom for 2 nights, I am happy to be living in the jungle. The only thing better, would be the beach and I am certain my bungalow would be home to more than an occasional gecko there given what I would be willing and able to pay. So here I stay, quite happily and solitary. Sometimes while walking, as I near my home, I realize that I have nothing in the way of supplies if I were to get stranded due to flooding, so I stop at our neighborhood store to stock up on 6 Baht packages of cookies which I pretty much eat immediately. In the event of a real emergency, I would try to walk to school (it is downhill and then uphill of me) and hope that the owner is looking out for the Thai staff living there. If we lose power, I have candles (from my students) but no means of even heating water. Many people have suggested a propane tank with burner, but I have not invested in one yet. I have been waiting for my work permit (which I now have after a trip to the mainland for a Thai culture course) and I don’t want to buy too many things that will inevitably get left behind. I did purchase some new curtains in honor of Nadene’s visit. She is coming for a couple months in December. The new curtains look good and have an austerity the others did not despite their attempted curtsy. I plan to buy a Thai cushion next paycheck. I live minimally in sparse, yet cozy style. I feel a little bad for chucking the gecko out, but I cant have him deciding now this is where he is staying through the rainy season, which is said to last for 6 weeks at least, even if he promises to eat all the mosquitoes. I feel too weird about him hunting over my head and I find his expression somewhat creepy. I’m just not ready to share my space with him. It would be nice to have a human visitor now and then, which is a rarity. If people start showing up I might not eat all the cookies so quickly.
However simply I live, I am by no means practicing sustainability or learning to survive on my own. I am, without a doubt, dependent on others for my survival. I don’t cook for myself and I am fairly certain that most of what is eaten here is brought in by boat. I have not seen a single farm. I see chickens roaming about and yesterday I saw, for the first time, a truck with at least 20 fat, pink, and very dead, hogs in the midday sun. I could smell their decay as the truck blew past me. What I knew only to call a cow, is actually a water buffalo and I see those daily. I eat meat here. Its cheap and abundant and in almost everything. I haven’t yet managed to eat all parts of the animal like the Thai. But I believe in this practice and there is a certain satisfaction I enjoy from living on what is just necessary and not beyond. There is another aspect to living simply that appeals to me and it is a result of living without much for-thought or planning. I like taking each moment as it comes. Maybe I am planning for an eventual future where there is less to do and to have. It wont matter so much if things take longer; we will have more time to do less. A lack of planning, however, is not conducive to teaching year 7 (we would say grade 7) but I hold the practice of my job in a category all its own and I would like to share how much I am still enjoying it (immensely) in a future post.
Actually, any ability to plan ahead on my part is usually undermined by my own lack, well, of planning. I sometimes feel a sense of panic about being stranded in the jungle because it gets dark early (around 6:30 PM). If I have not returned with dinner by this time, I am often busy or do not feel like going out despite the fact that I am without dinner. I try to plan ahead by having small snacks on hand that will not spoil like biscuits or nuts and having these items comforts me, but the more abundant the stash, the more frequently I do not go out to find dinner. I am always a little bit hungry here (except the few hours immediately following school lunch which is delicious and filling) and having some little treat with coffee does a peckish state just right. The more I plan to be stranded, the more I stay in. So planning doesn’t really work for me. A lack of planning forces me to venture out and to find healthy things to eat. One of my favorite dishes in Goong Tawd Kra Tiem (garlic pepper prawns) and a guy just up the road will make these for me for 60 Baht ($2). Even my very favorite restaurant only charges double that. Also, every walk is an adventure lasting generally about 3 hours. My routes are regular and the rides I am offered, less regular, but accepting rides has a way of bending the path and sending me on tangent. I will usually accept a ride to the most peripheral point of my radius even if i had not intended to go there initially. On the periphery lies coffee and cream for my coffee which I only need on occasion. I often turn rides down because I haven’t walked enough to work up the appetite that will direct my next move. Others observe a certain madness to my method, but most people don’t have the time to live in a way that no planning requires. It works only as a regular mode of living, it is only when practiced on occasion that it becomes time consuming. If you always take a motorbike, you don’t have time to walk to the store. If you walk every day, it become your way of life. I like when my life is occupied with the tasks of mundane survival (visits to the laundry, the market, the coffee shop and the beach). It’s relaxing and pleasant to walk and meet and greet those I see regularly and I still have plenty of time to read, paint, practice yoga and connect with my computer.
The Right Kind of Hardship.
I didnt know at first that you could see the sea from my bungalow
I believe in suffering. Even a little fear is a good thing because it gives your heart a chance to work itself. Here in Thailand, I have found just the right degree and variety of hardship. Things are not easy or convenient, but I feel good and very relaxed.
Most people on Koh Samui dont walk as much as I (I actually haven’t found anybody who does). I bought a crappy bike for $30, but riding it up hills has set my neck out of whack and forced me to visit Wit (Alison’s masseuse) every other day. So I walk. I walk at least 10K per day and sometimes more. I am now getting used to the hills and they no longer take my breath the way they did when I fist began walking nearly a month ago. The shortest distance is the one to school, which is nice, but because I miss the morning walk, I often get up early so I can go to the beach for breakfast. I discovered a quiet section on the beach road that I don’t know well and going there before school gives me the feeling of being on vacation that I preserve by not going there often. Its amazing how different things look in the morning, afternoon and evening. The night light really conceals the shittiness of the structures, but I like the morning when workers are slowly rolling up the metal doors that conceal their businesses and sweeping whatever gathered during the night from their doorsteps. Mostly I eat meat on a stick and sticky rice for less than a dollar for breakfast, but when I choose to sit down in one of the very few street-side cafes serving breakfast, I am overtaken with a feeling of being a tourist on this island and I like it, but I must pay over triple the price of sticky rice and meat sticks for this feeling. I like counting my pennies too. Its part of the hardship I don’t mind enduring.
Water container (fish eye effect on camera…sorry)
I found a yogurt shop run by a woman from Isreal who makes yogurt without sugar. This shop is about 4K from my door. Jean (the owner) sends her children to our school, so she agreed to deliver and gave me teacher’s price. I purchased a glass jar and brought it to her to help reduce my consumption of the plastics that I am certain my landlord would just burn in the yard. I also discovered that the store up the road will deliver a large vat of drinking water for 100 Baht (about 3 dollars). I am very very happy about that, but Nadene is sending me a Britta filter and I may double filter it. You never know about the water here. Its an open sewer system that cannot really deal with the monsoon water and there are frequent floods. When I arrived last March to do my TEFL course, the system was spilling over into the streets and the shop owners spent many hours disinfecting their wares. Everyone says to have at least 3 days worth of supplies ready for emergencies and power outages. My student Chilly says things like “I like when the electricity goes out.” I’m with you Chilly. I really like her politics and her desire to also endure a little hardship.
Chilly’s parents (French mom, Thai dad) own a resort (the Jungle Club) up the mountain from me. I haven’t been up there yet, because its a very long walk up a steep hill and I walk for transportation, not pleasure or exercise (though these things are a by-product of my daily walking) but I hitch rides with Jungle Club workers on occasion if I see them going my way when I am exhausted and carrying too much. Yesterday Jack had me accompany him on his errands before he returned me to my own door. So I carried the hotel guest’s laundry as well as the spoils of my shopping. The best produce prices can be found in the open air markets where Thai shop and the proprietors rarely try to charge me western prices. I also prefer to eat at these markets even though the food sits out all day. I figure if Thai people eat it, so can I because they seem really healthy to me.
The other day while visiting Wit the masseuse, I discovered that in between the pain and tension I was feeling in my neck and shoulders were waves of love and good feeling that I didn’t even have full access to (I don’t know how to describe it exactly). It was then I realized that I wasn’t even quite giving in to that physical pain because I feel generally happy and content, but not exactly elated and that discovery very much surprised me. To be happy without trying, or without chasing romance or without suffering any strict standards of living (like by eating only this or that) –that is what surprised me, that feelings of happiness and true contentedness could just be by-products of enduring a suffering that resonates with my deepest desires and makes me feel acutely alive.
A Sweet Bungalow
Alison told me about this bungalow up the hill from the school and Ying (headmaster’s wife) took me up to look at it. I was not immediately taken with it but the price was 1/2 of what I pay to stay in the hotel per month. I liked the owner very much, though. So I went home and tried to let a decision come to me about living here. My main concern was for safety. The bungalow does not have air conditioning which I dont really mind and rarely use here at Joy Residence, but I am able to keep the door open to the hall (even during the night) and I get really nice cross breeze from the hall to the balcony. From the balcony, I am able to see (sometimes at very late hours) whether the noodle guy is still serving noodles at the end of the road. And though I have eaten at the restaurant only once and haven’t used the pool, I am comforted by the fact that that those things are there. There is also Hotel staff on duty (even if he is just sleeping in the lobby) all night long.
The path to the bungalow
The bungalow is in a remote location on the side of a hill but its only a 5-7 minute walk to school and they have given me a key to the teacher’s room so I wont have to get my own internet at home which is actually a good thing for me. Not having access to internet forces me to make more creative use of my time. Also, I will be very busy getting to know the curriculum and planning the lessons and being close to school is a good thing. I have 36 primed canvases with me and oil sticks and those two things (school and painting) could keep me very busy if I chose to let go of my relationship with my computer a bit. I also have begun an inquiry into the tenants of Buddhism and what better way to get to know something than by practicing it. I think if I can surround myself with some things that give me comfort, I can make the space more my own. I have less fear today about living remotely.
On Samui, we tend to stick close to the beach and the main road because it has the most to offer I suppose but also because much of the the island’s interior is mountainous jungle. Yesterday I took the road up the mountain away from the bungalow and the main road and found that once I got high enough I could see the sea. I also saw a small sign that read “food and drinks” with an arrow pointing up (there is a resort further up the mountain, Jungle Club, owned by one of my student’s family) I didn’t manage to get far enough up the hill to locate it, but I’ll keep trying. I’d like to know what is available to me close by. There is a small store 3 minutes down the hill that carries eggs and oil and some cold drinks. I tried to speak to the owner who was sewing in the back when I arrived, but I am afraid there was no understanding between us yet. Slowly, over time, she will begin to understand that I am a more permanent fixture here on her mountain than most “Farang” (foreigners) she encounters. I’ll leave you with a few photos from my hike, because a picture speaks a thousand words.
view of the gulf
small store
path up the mountain to the... golf course???
Floating in the Gulf of Siam
Fair House Resort, Chaweng Noi, Koh Samui
What I most looked forward to on Koh Samui, an island in the Gulf of Siam (Teluk Siam to the Thai, the Gulf of Thailand to those living in the Western World) was floating in the sea. The transition from land to sea is relatively seamless because the water is body temperature at least. I stop at this resort, Fair House (passing by the gate keeper without question) on my way home from school, discard my belongings and the stresses of the day on the sand and walk straight into the gulf. When all the other crazy conditions and consequences of living here (mostly financial) weigh heavily, floating in the sea balances me. I cant say it’s why I am here, but it’s important.
In many ways, unless you arrive straight to a beach resort and never see the backside of the facade (never experience what its like to live as a Thai person), Samui is not a paradise, though the sea and the resorts attempt to trick you into believing it is so. Like every other place on earth, greed is a major driving force that I cannot escape until I am willing to live even more primitively. Even here on Samui I don’t have a motorbike or a cell phone like everyone else including my 11 year old students. So, perhaps I live even more primitively than the Thai, well, except that I live in a hotel and havent quite managed to shake my computer addiction. So far the amenities the hotel offers far outweigh the $60 per month savings of living in a bungalow, but I’m still looking.
Panaydee, the British School of Samui
My classroom (the music room for now until renovations have been completed–and it’s Thailand after all, this may take a very long time) is on the second floor. I teach year 7, all subjects (English, Maths, Geography, History, Physics, Chemistry and Biology). I have 5 students, but have met only 3 so far as 2 of them are on holiday still. I have 4 girls and one boy. Their nationalities are: Korean, German, Welsh, Belgian, and New Zealand. All of them, with the exception of the Korean, are 1/2 Thai. Despite the fact that I am overwhelmed by the curriculum, I have never felt so at home on the first day of a job ever. The other teachers have been extremely friendly and helpful and the Thai staff have given me tastes of the spiciest food I have ever encountered. I think they just like to see my reaction, “can you eat?” “Can, but just one bite!” And they are pleased that I can do even that. Teacher Sharon says “you can eat any time of day here at this school, but I wouldn’t advise it.” Here we are “Teacher Laurie” as opposed to the Korean “Laurie Teacher.”
I have been either too tired or too busy to go see my friends the Rastamonkeys (reggae group) but I ran into Pond yesterday and he bought me ice cream and introduced me to a man with a bungalow. He chose the strangest ice cream sandwich for himself–small purple scoops on a hotdog bun. Mine was served in a white plastic cup embossed with the waffling of a real cone. Nobody here really thinks about plastic or pollution and sometimes I even wonder why bother; it’s not going to change no matter how small my carbon footprint and I cant discount the greenhouse-gas emissions of my flight here, but I can, at least float in the beautiful sea.
Pausing for the Monk
the road to Panyadee
When I arrived on Samui last April, it had just suffered a flood. In fact, most of the tourists had been waiting for days for flights and boats off the island. Many storefronts along the beach suffered great damage and their proprietors were busy rebuilding and cleaning. It was a mess and I wanted to leave. I waited a day for Stacy to arrive and we debated for too long about whether we would skip the TEFL training and make our time in Thailand a vacation. Those few days of indecisiveness were the most difficult. The photograph shows the road to Panyadee, the British School of Samui where we did our training and where I will now be working for the next year or so.
During our month stay, we grew attached to the lifestyle, the food and the sea. Samui is more developed than Koh Tao, where I spent my first vacation from Korea. Because of the location of our residence on Samui (Joy Residence, where I will be living until I find other accommodations) we were forced to pass through Thai neighborhoods on our walks to and from the beach. We learned that these neighborhoods contained the best deals on food and the owners were friendly and generous. I learned to eat Thai breakfast and drink sugary coffee for 30 cents. It was what the locals did. I didnt see much of the 128 miles2 of the island, but most of the interior is uninhabitable jungle mountain. There will be time to do more exploring, but I am quite content to stick close to the area around my school. Every day I can float in the sea and this restores me. Even thinking about it, restores me.
In the meantime I will be very busy sorting out the curriculum for my job. I will be teaching 7th grade (all subjects) to 5 international students. I imagine I will be able to do some very creative things and I am very much looking forward to it. I am also taking 28 primed canvases to work on in my free time.
Rastamonkeys
Thanks to Alison (our TEFL instructor), we were introduced to some local Reggae. These guys perform every night on Samui and the music is incredible. Dancing to reggae restore me too.
moss path
I need a little restoring. The summer has been full of difficult transitions. The first part was spent painting nearly every room in the house and planting the garden. Caleb and I also installed a moss path. We carefully transported bags of moss we collected at the Missouri river.
Ailee's move
Ailee moved in to an apartment next door. Having her in the house was a comfort to me because she is so reliable, but I understand her need for more space. Mad-dog, our neighbor, says we are so much alike and I can see how that is both good and not so good. I hope Ailee will come and visit me and Thailand so I can show her what I enjoy so much about the place.
Tamales Bay, Ellen, Sonya, Mars and Jena
The greatest transition was traveling to and from California for a TEFL job in Long Beach. The experience is worth a short story, but Im trying to shake some of what disrupted my sense of equilibrium there; urban camping, driving great distances in a short time and seeing Jesse (the author confuses Nathan and Janzen–its Nathan’s prose, not Janzen’s). It was wonderful however to spend time in Park City with Thea and Andy and to reconnect with people I love in Marin county. I almost stayed in Marin. Those days of indecisiveness where also the most difficult and I am sure I taxed my friends. A part of me was left in Berkeley too, and that piece is taking the longest to restore. I haven’t yet learned that attachment does indeed cause suffering, but I am, of course, only human. I have begun to investigate Buddhist philosophy and in some ways believe my whole life has led me to its door. I think Thailand will be a good place to explore the tenants of the Buddhism (I continue to be chased by an elusive monk), paint, read many books, live without such a dependence on technology, extend my yoga practice, float in the sea (the thing I most looking forward to) and to slow down, let the monk catch me because there is more wisdom in the body than in the deepest philosophy. Hmm, perhaps it’s time to really start listening.
Christmas Eve
Yoga classes held above the Underground in Gwangju (that’s Trevor with me)
Its been many months since I last posted which I cannot quite explain except, perhaps, for a lack of dreaming. I watched Eat, Pray, Love last night because I was sick in bed all day with a cold and although I feel the filmakers trivialized Liz’s sincere interest in changing her life, I realized that a certain “drive” was missing from mine. I think it started when I did a 10 day living foods and juice cleanse with Yoga Healer Cate Stillman.
The cleanse was difficult because I started teaching yoga again at the exact moment I began it and I was also meeting with 5 KIA Motors employees to speak English 3 days a week. It wasn’t the yoga that was difficult or the meetings, it was the getting to and from Gwangju 5 days a week on a diet greatly reduced in calories. I was REALLY hungry for days, but I was determined to see where this clean body would take me. The first thing I noticed was that my mind was eased of unnecessary chatter. I didnt have the energy to speak to people, let alone gossip or engage in judgmental thinking. Part of the cleanse required Ayurvedic practices like getting up before the sun and moving your body for 20 minutes. I was already hiking to Seongryun-sa (Temple) every day so I began to leave earlier. On those hikes I noticed how alert my sense were and it seemed to be enough just to BE and not do, to relax into the slower cycle of winter without feeling guilty about a lack of activity. It was great except how hungry I was and how food became such a focus. I have incorporated many of the living food principles in my diet now, but I have also gone back to drinking coffee with cream because it makes me happy and helps me to get out of bed now that the mornings are colder.
I spent the day yesterday planning my trip to Thailand and Laos. I have a month to see both. When I arrive in Bangkok on New Year’s eve, I leave 3 hours later for Chiang Mai to meet Nichola (from Ireland) and her father. I havent seen Nichola since she left Korea for India months ago. When they leave, I am signed up for some Thai cooking courses. From the 7-14 I will be on a yoga retreat entitled Awaken you Core. Its an anusara yoga and chakra workshop at the beautiful and posh Away Suansawan Resort. I am really looking forward to it, but, I’ll be dirt-bagging it after that.
I plan to spend some time in hippie town called Pai and may do some trekking from there. Then I’ll begin my journey (by bus) towards Chiang Rai, Chiang Khong (a border town) to Huay Xai (on the Laos side of the Mekong) where I plan to float down the Mekong river for two days on a so called slow boat to Luang Prabang. I am really looking forward to Luang Prabang as it was referred to as the most beautiful place in all of southeast Asia. At some point I will begin to travel south back to Thailand passing through Vang Vien and Vientiane and meeting Wat Chara somewhere along the way. He plans to take me to visit his home near Udon Thani (tiny farming village Ban Phu) and then drive me back to Bangkok.
Here is a map of my anticipated route, though all things could change depending who I meet and talk to along the way.
for a less out of focus and interactive version of this map click here.
The Beginning of a Second Year
Wat Chara, me, Sukit, Kop, Ta Nom, Nikom,
We just celebrated Chuseok here in Korean–the biggest Korean holiday. Well, I didn’t actually celebrate Chuseok, I celebrated Koreans celebrating Chuseok. For an entire week it was actually quiet and peaceful while people made food (mostly women), spent time with their families and visited the graves of their ancestors. During my week off from school, I traveled to Seoul to see Cynthia and Marty for a portion of the time and spent the rest in my little town of Okgwa.
Okgwa has opened herself up to me slowly, in much the same way that Vermillion and South Dakota did. Some places are not immediately accessible to us, nor is their beauty apparent. They are guarded and surprise us when we least expect it. There were times, while living in Vermillion, that I remember thinking that I lived in the most beautiful place on earth precisely for this reason. These moments happened most often driving east at dusk on South Dakota back roads and highways. There is a very special vastness of sky and light that instead of truncating your existence makes you grow as large as it. For so long while living here in Korea, I would look into the landscape and think “this place could be beautiful, but it just isn’t to me.” My life has changed so much and my eyes too.
The most significant change occurred when I was able to show my town to visitors and to cook for them. Nichola, another English teacher from Ireland, was the first to visit. With her companionship, I was able to explore the nightlife of Okgwa. There is a techincal college here and many young people I had not met. She loved Okgwa and through her eyes, I began to sense the place differently. Cynthia was next and during her visit an entirely surprising event took place when we, one evening, filled two mugs with wine and took a walk. I discovered that evening the existence of over 30 Thai workers in my little town. I just celebrated 2 months of knowing them.
You could draw a comparison between the inaccessible beauty of a Vermillion landscape vs. the immediately recognizable beauty of northern California and the guarded character of Koreans vs. the open and loving character of the Thai. That somehow one influences the other, that warmer climates and beautiful scenery produce relaxed and happy people. And you could say that meeting my Thai friends helped me to recognize what was previously not apparent to me. Or perhaps I became more settled into myself, more whole, more grounded, and more open after meeting them and the Koreans simply reflected myself back to me. I don’t know exactly; I know only that my life and my attitude is vastly changed, though I had made the decision to sign on for another year even before meeting them. A decision I congratulate myself on regularly.
Although I find Asian crude in many ways, they posses a certain refinement that is deeply, deeply rooted; a refinement that we westerners could really learn from. One of the things I enjoy about Asians is their understanding of food. One thing that Koreans share with Thai people (and Japanese for sure, though I have personal experiences to draw from) is the ceremony of food and the in-taking of nourishment not only for the body, but also the soul. I am sure that many of them are not even cognizant of this knowledge, of its science, because they simply live this knowledge, eating the way their ancestors have since the beginning. Sharing food is an activity I greatly enjoy with my Thai friends. Every meal takes lengthy preparation and is a celebration. It occupies much of their “off” time. A few of the guys are the designated fishermen. They bring back the loot and the others busy themselves with the preparation. Because they have no access to a shared kitchen, they use the space outside their apartment house, sometimes making an open fire and cooking there, but most often using the propane stoves common in most Korean households (though indoors they are fueled by gas).
The dishes (and there are many) are placed in the center of a low-lying platform and we all sit around, bare-footed eating from the same bowls and dishes using our hands mostly. Time is taken. It seems that 5 minutes passes between bites for them. I am often shy, taking note of the their ways and when too much time has passed between bites for me, Wat Chara feeds me from his hand. There is much conversation and laughter. And the FOOD! There is not a cuisine I enjoy more than Thai–lemon grass, and lime leaves, galangal etc. are all purchased from a truck that passes through Okgwa a few days after pay day for them, or sometimes these items are sent from home, but they do not go without. One of the first things they asked me was “do you like Korean food?” And though there are some things I do enjoy, mostly I am with them on this point.
One year anniversary dinner with Pilson and his friend.
I find myself comparing the pleasure of eating and drinking with my Thai friends outside on the ground when I go out with friends to swanky over-priced bars and restaurants, and frankly, nothing beats this experience. The other night when Pilson ate all three of the prawns we got with our massive spread, I couldn’t help but think “that would never happen in the presence of my Thai friends,” because everything is divided and shared and most often they want to give the very best away. It’s like that with people who have so little and it endears them to me in so many ways.
New Asia Forum
Two paintings currently on exhibit at the Gwangju International Center
