Warmly people

 

I received a job offer in my inbox today for a teaching position in the south of Thailand, in a province where "there are many special food, fruits customs and warmly people."

Ahh yes, back to the land of creative English. The mind boggles at how perversely poetic flawed grammar can be. I would like to meet these warmly people; warmly as in snuggly or cuddly. The kind of people you can get comfortable with.

Three days ago, I spent my 38th birthday in northern Thailand, raising my glass to toast (or perhaps simply acknowledge) the fact that I have neither job nor fixed address. no car, no stereo, no closet.

Yesterday I bought a cell phone and suddenly felt more rooted and substantial than I have in weeks. I have a phone number and the locals now eye me with a slightly more elevated regard.

Whatever it takes.

There are so many elements of life here that make simple sense. Ridiculously enough, the weather is one of them. Human beings were not meant to wear turtleneck sweaters in the middle of July, plain and simple.

Here, I can scrutinize my toes at all hours of the day, indoors or out. The ubiquity of sauna and massage also makes sense, as does a one dollar plate piled high with barbeque shrimp.

All this juxtaposed against the nonsensical: the pollution, the motorcycles driven by woman balancing their babies between their knees, the sorrowful condition of the temple dogs, the sex industry.

Yesterday we had herbal steam and massage at a local place that seemed to attract both locals and farang. As we were reclining on the rattan chairs, eyes closed, enjoying the foot portion of the massage session, we heard a panicked shriek and a loud thump. All the workers dropped the limbs they were kneading and ran in a pack towards the sauna room in the back.

After a few minutes, one of the employees came hurrying up to the front room, reached into the refrigerator and took out two ice trays. Someone reached for a cell phone and soon there was an ambulance outside the door and a stretcher rolling past us.

We were still laid out on the rattan loungers, watching this surreal scene unfold. The stretcher rolled back out carrying a young man, bandaged and wrapped in a blanket. Exhausted and dehydrated from a mountain biking run, he couldn't handle the steam and fainted dead-away in the tiled shower room.

I suppose the heat takes some getting used to.

We visited ten schools in four days last week. We saw everything from the 50-student-to-a-classroom government schools (where we were offered a job) to the elite international schools hidden in the lush green mountains above the city.

In the former we sat through dialogues with nervous, sweating head teachers, overworked and desperate to hire anyone who could make sense of the English-language textbooks mandated by the ministry of education.

At the most prestigious international school (I will diplomatically omit all personal nouns here) we lied our way past the attendants at the gate, bluffed the secretary at the front desk and somehow managed to bullshit our way into the office of the president. What seemed to be a fortuitous opportunity for networking turned out to be a thirty minute diatribe as to why we didn't have what it takes to teach at *his* school.

How many p's in pompous?

There is an air of preparation in the streets today. people wearing garlands of white flowers and incense burning beside the spirit houses. On August 1st, several centuries ago, the Buddha attained enlightenment and some-odd number of hours later (I'd make a sorry Buddhist) he gave his first sermon. Tonight there will be a parade along the main street and the requisite ceremonial foods and whiskey that is part of any Buddhist celebration here.

Thai boys enter the temple for up to three months at this time. It's considered a duty. How different America might be if every fifteen year-old were required to spend the summer studying Buddhism.