Sammy Wandering Abroad

Tag: Thai

  • 1. I’m an Eighth Chinese

    1. I’m an Eighth Chinese

    1. Thailand is known for being home to Southeast Asia’s wildest beasts and most curious creepy crawlies, but nothing will instigate more the sensation of utter terror than the sight of a lingering mosquito (take it from me, Dengue fever ain’t all that fun).
    1. It doesn’t matter how OTT the acting is (at times abysmal), how out of sync the background music is, or even how many adverts there are, you will somehow find yourself shedding a tear over what has become your favourite Thai lakorn drama, because THEY JUST DON’T REALISE THEY BELONG TOGETHER FOREVER AND IT’S SO DAMN FRUSTRATING!

    1. Everyone is related – going to market with Mum involved constantly stopping to say hello to relatives I didn’t even know I had, e.g. “This is your Grandad’s second cousin’s brother-in-law”.
    1. On the subject of market, I have never felt so white in my life.
    1. It is possible to sweat as soon as you step out of the shower, or in my case, the washroom equipped with bowl and bucket of water – that’s right, they do it old skool here, a la ‘splash’n’dash’.
    1. Sitting in the back of a pick-up truck is the most fun ever, until the heavens decide to open up – when it rains, it pours… so much so that the road becomes invisible; gotta love monsoon season!
    Rain, Road and Ricefields
    Not the happiest passenger
    1. Tiger Balm is a remedy that cures everything – bruises, mosquito bites, broken heart, you name it!
    1. Apparently (Grandma says) 200 Baht, the equivalent of £4, is too expensive for a hand-cart of coconuts (40 to be precise!).
    2. Rice is life. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, and even dessert! The word for dinner/meal in Thai actually translates ‘eat rice’  – true story.

    These are only a few things I have learnt from this trip and previous visits to Mum’s village (particularly the first one, Grandma just came out with it; apparently her dad was from China and died from smoking too much opium). This is not a holiday. My dad jokes that when we come back from ‘up-country’, Ban Wat, Nakhon Ratchasima, to be exact, it’s as if we’ve returned from a mission like in one of those Bruce Willis films. What he means by this is, the two weeks that we spend here in the village on every trip we make to Thailand, this is the hardest part, in so many ways. For one thing everything is so different, so raw. It’s not a bad thing, at all; in fact it is quite refreshing to experience living this way. I think things are appreciated more as a result. I will give examples: the kitchen in my grandparents’ house is not actually in the house. It is an outdoor shelter of tin sheets under which there are wooden tables and seats. The bed is a hard mattress on the floor, the cooker is an Asian barbecue and the sink is a hose and a giant plastic tub. This all sounds quite basic, but it works, and why shouldn’t it? The only pain is that everything cooked must be done there and then, but if it produces the freshest food, then is that really so terrible?

    Country Kitchen
    The Cooker
    Grandad chopping fresh coconut
    Grandma on Washing-Up Duty

    It is always inspiring to see Mum back in the place where she grew up, and she truly is in her element, running around cooking for everyone, strutting about in a sarong and flip flops, speaking (yelling) in her Korat dialect ever so sassily. Yet at the same time, you can see how it is so difficult for her to come back, because of how taxing it was before. I think subconsciously she goes back to her role of caring for everyone, as in back when she was 14, having left school to work with her dad constructing roads, and to later help her mum look after 6 siblings. Accustomed to the ways of Western life now, I can see the frustration Mum faces; also having to play translator for two weeks can’t be a doddle, “MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM what are they saying to me?!”.

    Sassy Country Girl
    Sassy Country Girl

    Every time we move on from Ban Wat it is nice to see Mum. I say this because although we are staying in the same house and visiting the same places, we see her only in passing, or when she has the time to sit down after rushing around trying to see everyone.   This brings me onto the main reason why our ‘mission’ is so tough. We try to go to Thailand every three years, at one point we had to leave it six years because of political unrest in the country. This gives Mum two weeks for every three years to see the majority of her family. From day one there is a countdown on the time she has, and as soon as we step off of the bus from Bangkok it settles in that there are only 14 days to enjoy village life. For Mum this means 14 days to see everyone she can, and spend as much time catching up as she can. Sometimes, it doesn’t happen, which just makes this flying visit all the more heartbreaking. When I was nine I remember crying in Granddad’s truck on the way to the bus station, because I had left my watch at their house. The watch was just an excuse to come back; I really wasn’t ready to leave, and this is the feeling I’m dreading when the day comes this time round.

    Welcome to Wild Country
    Welcome to Wild Country
  • ‘Nit Noi’

    ‘Nit Noi’

    Two little utterances that have brought me more shame than anything else in my twenty two years.  The amount of times I have used this phrase is beyond the point of embarrassing, and every time I do, a half smile and awkward silence proceeds, whilst memories flood back of missed opportunities and that familiar feeling of helplessness.

    Nit Noi is Thai for ‘a little bit’ and is basically my go-to response/#1 fave Thai catchphrase when asked if I speak the language. After every visit to my mother’s motherland the answer is always the same. Which makes the next question even better; ‘What do you study?’ ‘Languages’ *Cue perplexed expression*

    Yeah, I know right, just not one of my own languages.

    I’ve listed my excuses; in fact, I’ve probably spent more time defending myself as to why I can’t speak it instead of actually attempting to.

    1. I am studying Spanish AND Italian; this is enough to cope with especially for someone as scatty as myself – can you imagine how difficult it is to study a Spanish module in an Italian university when the professor himself switches language without warning? Did I mention he definitely spoke Castilian with a Dolmio accent?
    2. Despite Mum’s best efforts to speak only Thai to me at home, it is easier (not to mention much quicker) for me to respond in English, and most of the time I am not at home
    3. There is a different alphabet – what should I do, learn to read/write or speak first?
    4. I’ve got plenty of time to learn it

    Truth is, I wasn’t worried about keeping it up before, and now I find myself in the same embarrassing position as always, phrasebook in hand, playing a game of charades, trying to ask Khun Yai (grandma) what’s for breakfast. Awks?  Not even. It’s just plain upsetting.  Why?

    Time. Time is such bastard isn’t it. Scuze my French, or any other language I can’t speak LOL. My Erasmus year has been so eye opening and, frankly, I think I would be extremely lucky if I ever get the chance to experience something like it again. It just goes by SO quickly. And this is coming from someone who managed to stay abroad for more than a year. Everyone said, ‘Don’t forget to update your blog, I’ll be looking to see what you’re up to’

    …

    Well. It’s me isn’t it.

    If you don’t know me, and on the off chance you had stumbled upon my just-about-there blog, you’d have gotten the impression I’d run away with a Spaniard or, more likely, fell in the sea after one too many Sangrias, before I even got the chance to fly to Italy. ITALY. Yes, I did make it there, and, as part of my new found motivation to get up off my pizza-based arse (THE FOOD THERE BY THE WAY WAS INCRED, I WILL BE POSTING PICS) and do something productive, I am starting up this writing business again, so now memories of Granada and Modena will be posted on the regular. That’s a promise I’m more than reluctant to break.

    Here’s me at the beach, not falling in the sea
    Maybe after one too many mojitos
    This is just one of OH so many

    I’ve scolded myself enough times for being predictable Sam – start things and don’t finish them; with Thai (you know, I once spoke it fluently way back when, and even held a Hua Hin dialect), with Spanish/Italian (it has taken me bloody long enough to be able to speak beyond-ordering-pastries-from-bakery level) and with blogging, which is evident from the number/lack of posts you see before you.

    However, I’d like to cut myself and others in my predicament a little slack. I am not lazy. Sure I can be at times, but that is not my general attitude. In fact, I am far from it. My Dad says I have a problem.

    “You always try to fit two pints into a one pint pot.”

    It’s true, I try to do everything at once, and sometimes, a lot of the time, it’s just not possible, but why not try? From my point of view, it’s not a bad mindset to have, in fact, I prefer to believe that ‘life is what happens while you are busy making other plans’. Too damn straight. Rather I was living, embracing all the opportunities thrown my way on my year abroad, than waste the precious time I had to record snippets of my experiences, which might not have been otherwise.

    As for the case of my dire pidgin Thai, I’m working on it. It’s nowhere near good enough now, but one thing I’ve learnt from Erasmus, and something that’s shocked me in more ways than one, is the realisation of priorities.  Embarrassed as I am to claim Thai nationality without acquisition of its language, I am studying for a degree in Spanish and Italian, which is what needs to be (well) worked on first.  This doesn´t mean I can’t take a little time out to study Thai on the side, and by no means will it stop me from miming and blurting out random words across the breakfast table to bewildered relatives.

    Going Back To Our Roots
    Going Back To Our Roots

    In terms of writing, I owe it to the memories made on my year abroad **sorry for mushy ERASMUS YAHR WAS SUCH AN ENRICHING EXPERIENCE YAR talk** to document them as best I can. However, I will not apologise for using the time the way I did – the friends I made are those I will keep for life, time I spent with these individuals in unfamiliar locations proved invaluable to life learning, oh and on top of that, my language improved YAY! I didn’t record these moments as much then because I was too busy living them, but at least I can do that now.

    Dad is right. There is not enough time to do everything, but if you try and make the very most out of what time you have, then I don’t think that’s such bad shout.