I watched the sun rise today!

Well, sort of. As the sun burst over the horizon of the clear blue waters that cradle Phuket, painting the undoubtedly cloudless sky with another morning masterpiece, I watched its rays gradually illuminate an equally humbling scene. Many miles away, at my little school in Suphan, dawn emerged on a group of steadfast teachers, hardworking staff, and selfless, sleepy-eyed students as they prepared a thousand boxes of fresh homemade food for the flood victims in Bangkok. The orchestra of chopping, scooping, sizzling, and packaging was a different sort of masterpiece, though it rivaled any skyline I’ve ever see.

I arrived on the scene at 4 AM and by 4:04 I had been welcomed with a hot cup of soy milk, a fresh pastry, and about ten surprised but enthusiastic “good mornings!” to ease me out of my walking slumber. As my coworkers resumed their tasks, conversation returned to the chorus of speed-Thai that my arrival had briefly interrupted. It flew well over my head, but I was secretly grateful for the language-locked state that allowed me to labor introspectively in those wee hours of the morning.  Although I couldn’t understand the content of the impenetrable hum, the laughter and light-heartedness made it very clear that it wasn’t griping, drudgery, or martyrdom. I was submerged in the purity of their intentions and had no intent on coming up for air. Overwhelmingly here, I’ve found that generosity is more of a lifestyle than a whimsical ideal. It’s an inextricable part how things work. I have, you lack, therefore I’ll share. It’s common sense and it’s awesome. For this culinary crew, the morning’s activities most certainly will not appear on their resumes in the future – “Devoted numerous mornings of 4 AM to 6:30 AM shifts preparing food for victims of the 2011 flooding”. Today was just life. Thais helping Thais. People sending light out among the dark waters, just as the sun sent its rays to steadily brighten our endeavor as night became day. The morning culminated in a Thai-style communal breakfast of rice, vegetables, meat, and, for me, a heaping serving of humble pie. The latter didn’t taste great, but my soul needed the nutritional value.

On second thought...

After reflecting on the fact that life here is different (surprise of the century), I’ve started to realize that there are many elements of human life that transcend culture. As a veritable Martian in this Thai society, it’s been a delight to uncover them little by little.

Considering that my Thai is so elementary (actually, it’s borderline non-existent if I’m being honest), I thought that reaching the level of joking around with people here was a distant dream. I’m not sure how a goofball like me could forget that humor is universal. I was shopping at the supermarket (which was totally “picked over,” as you would say Mom) with two Chinese teachers and two Thai English teachers. #Cultureshock. After a solid seven-minute group effort to figure out that one of the Chinese teachers, Luk Tan, was looking for a “washbasin,” I set off to find the plastic bins I had seen earlier. I returned with a bin, about 2 ft. in diameter, and Luk Tan thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. “Too big!” she squeaked between giggles. So I reached for the next smallest size, which was considerably smaller in the aftermath of panic-driven pre-flood shopping, and she laughed even harder at how outrageously tiny it was. As she walked around the corner, still chuckling at my cluelessness, one of the Thai teachers grabbed about six of the most enormous bins on the shelf and casually set them into our cart. No need for language. Sarcasm is universal. We laughed and continued on, and I had no clearer idea of the proper size of a washbasin, but it was clear that this language barrier would crumble with time. There are greater things than common language and luckily laughter is one of them.

Play seems to be another. I went swimming the other night in the school’s Olympic-sized pool, filled with water that somehow magically matches the temperature of the air. A small crowd of M1 (US grade 7) students were scattered throughout the pool, totally unsupervised and totally loving it. A few were busy stacking way too many kickboards on top of each other and, playing way too close to the side of the pool, trying to maintain their balance but inevitably crashing into the water and erupting with laughter. Other students were lined up on the diving blocks, jumping in succession, doing spirals and spastic flips as they plunged into the way too shallow water. The reckless childish energy was abundant and contagious. Only their tan skin, Euro-esque bathing suits, and lack of supervision would have given them away among their Main Line counterparts.

During orientation we went to an authentic Thai bar with authentic Thai food and authentic Thai clientele, where an authentic Thai acoustic duo was performing. Their opening number? I’m Yours by Jason Mraz. I guess we all speak the language of dreamy acoustic musicians - "Mraz-ese," if you will. During the same week, wandering aimlessly and contently through an open market in Bangkok, a familiar tune drifted its way over to my ears from a nearby stand. “Country roads...take me home...to the place...I belong...West Virginia...Mountain Mama...take me home...country roads...” Anyone who was or is a member of the Tribe Field Hockey team can imagine the big cheese smile that immediately lit up my face. We’ve requested that song relentlessly on bus trips over the years, and our obliging head coach, Peel Hawthorne, has been kind enough to indulge us with a few acoustic performances. The music wrapped me in a reassuring hug from home. Hearing it so unexpectedly at this market in Bangkok made the ‘burg and my Tribe family feel much closer than 9000 miles away.

So maybe I’m not a Martian after all. These experiences of solidarity have kept me grounded in the fact that I’m an Earthling. Granted, I’m an illiterate, mute, blonde-headed foreigner in this Thai society, but I'm an Earthling all the same.

Things are different here

Book, Mint, Nut, Poo, Film, Pigeon, Ice, Top, Bass, Pop, Ploy, Porn, New, Bee, Arm, Tan, Tip, Pure, Sun, Tea, First, Cherry, Milk, Noon, Beer, Balloon, Boat, Jam, Bow, Gift, Mild, Art, Beam, Hack, Chompoo, Earn, Ray, Jam, Sprite, Tee, Moo, Cling, Off, Pong, Joe, Bank, Benz, Pooky, Fame, Bank, Bow, Fern, Ken, and my favorites – Primrose & Copter.

This gloriously random mix of words is a smattering of the English nicknames my students have provided for me. Some are hilarious, others are perplexing, and all are twenty two times simpler than the students' Thai names.

Things are different here.

I had spicy pork, vegetables and fried rice for breakfast my first day in Suphan.

Pale skin is idealistic. Balane, Leah - get your beautifully pasty selves over here.

They drive from the right side of the car on the left side of the road. If there were speed limits, they'd be in kilometers per hour.

Teachers leave the English Resource Center at 8:37 for an 8:30 class.

Tuesday morning I hesitantly abandoned my classroom to grab my whiteboard markers from another room and returned to find the students cleaning the classroom, literally sweeping the floor in my absence. Unasked.

I attended a Thai funeral yesterday for a fellow teacher's mother and there was a full-out musical in the evening as part of the ceremony. Talk about a celebration of life. I would like a Ke$ha/Dino dance party funeral when I go. Gotta come full circle.

Today during my off period, the classroom outside of our English language center was emitting sounds of absolute mayhem. I thought back to my days at Villa, literally sprinting with my twenty pound backpack across campus, Meghan Price and Laura Pinnie in tow, trying to make it to Sister Carmela’s chemistry class in our allotted three minute interval, then arriving and sitting in silence (except for the sound of our labored breathing as we recovered from the 400 yard dash). At Villa Maria Academy, the level of noise coming from this Thai classroom would have been grounds for detention, maybe expulsion, but it’s just another Friday afternoon at Banharn. So I slyly pulled out my camera, set it on my desk, and hit record, hoping to somehow capture the insanity reaching my ears from next-door. For thirty seconds or so, I recorded the screams and the bangs, the laughs and the skids. As I chuckled to myself, thinking, “students would never behave this way at home,” a boy popped his head in the door, looking for another teacher, spotted me, and gave a perfectly polite and gracious bow, called a “wai” in Thailand, then slipped away silently and respectfully. I smiled, thinking, “students would never behave that way at home...” and was reminded again that things are different here. Not better, not worse. Just different.

And so it begins...

Sawatdee kha!

First of all, please read this without worry – I know CNN has been bombarding you with images of the floods currently ravaging Thailand. Thankfully, I am in a safe area of the province of Suphanburi, unthreatened by the floods.

In the future, I will attempt to keep these posts short & sweet. I worry that my thoughts will become a narrative of what I intend to post, losing the rawness and honesty allowed only the privacy of my own mind. So I’ll keep them simple. However these first two weeks have been so jam-packed with newness. I’d like to do them justice.

Fifteen days ago, I left the good ol’ City of Brotherly Love, embarking on a six month adventure centered on teaching English to secondary students in Thailand.  I am living my dream of living abroad. Thank you to everyone who dared to dream this dream with me. The letters of encouragement meant to world to me as I literally flew across the world.

The lengthy flight from Chicago to Hong Kong gave me a glimpse of just how desperately I was yearning for this change of pace and change of scenery. The thought of 15 hours of pure down time was outrageously indulgent. I watched four full-length movies, an episode of Modern Family, took a glorious nap, and read about half of Eat, Pray, Love. After devouring six months’ worth of American delights (Wawa hoagies and sparkle donuts galore) in the weeks before I left and then enjoying shrimp salad and a Haagen-Dazs ice cream bar with my airplane meal (step your game up, US Air...), I was certainly ready to Pray & Love in Thailand.

That didn’t last long though. The food is incredible. Ninety percent of the time I have no idea what I’m eating – some combination of noodles, rice, beef, chicken, pork, seafood, chili, basil, cilantro, curry, eggs (yes, EGGS!), fish sauce, sugar, and probably some ingredients that are better left a mystery. But it’s all been delicious, or “aroi” in Thai.  I bought two packs of fresh-cut pineapple and a pack each of two unidentified fruits (case in point) for 40 baht at the market this morning. That’s like a dollar and thirty cents at home. I think I’m going to like it here.

I spent the first week of my time in Thailand split between Bangkok and Chonburi, participating in orientation activities organized by Overseas Educational Group, the program that acts as the middle man between us eager Americans and the schools here in Thailand. My roommate for the week was a girl named Vi - a UT grad (shout-out to the Turtletaubs!), photog-extraordinaire, and an absolute blast. People kept asking us how long we’d known each other because we got along so well. “Uhhh...like 38 hours now I guess?” was our typical response. Suffice it to say, we hit it off. The rest of my orientation group, the outstanding Group B, was equally incredible. I met people from all over the US & the world – from Manchester, England to Johannesburg, South Africa. People interested in everything from geology to engineering, and even stop motion animation.  It was a glorious mix of totally different people, all here for different reasons, but all taking the plunge into an enormous life change.

So all of our life paths collided in Bangkok, and after a whirlwind of a week we were off to our individual placements all over the country. I arrived in Suphanburi, my province, a little nervous, a little anxious, and fairly overwhelmed. I slept well though, despite these nerves, and the sauna-like atmosphere and cloud of mosquitoes feasting on my legs. The next morning, I stepped out of my apartment to a rugged front yard, sweltering heat and a mangy stray cat. I have never felt so much affection toward a cat, but it was living and it was familiar and that was enough. Since then, I have started to settle in and find my stride. Stray animals don’t provide the same kind of comfort that they did that desperate first morning, but I find almost everything else to be exotic and fascinating. My curiosity is nurtured here. I’m sort of basking in this constant state of wonder. We passed a local fair – complete with colored lights and throngs of teenagers – and a genuine, knee-jerk “whoa!” escaped my lips. I realized that to those Thai teenagers, this fair was as common as a summer evening on the boardwalk down the shore is to me, but I saw the festivities as unfamiliar and full of cultural intricacies. And I plan on holding on to this newfound naivety as long as possible.

My apartment is beautifully simple. Two small rooms, a bathroom, bed, dresser, refrigerator, microwave, rice cooker, fan, drying rack, bare walls, open space, and endless potential. Every day it becomes a little more my own. I just bought a neon mosquito net that I’m kind of in love with. My next-door neighbors are two Chinese teachers on one side and a Thai English teacher on the other. All speak English and all have been lovely and helpful.

My classes are enormous and hilarious. Sixteen classes of about forty students each. That’s six hundred and forty individual students. Every week. I constantly hear “Hello Teacher!” and my favorite, “I LOVE YOU!” followed by choruses of giggles (and yes, Anna, they say “veshebles”). My life slogan seems to have become “fly by the seat of your pants,” or “fly by the seat of your long flowy skirt,” in my case. Every day is an adventure. Every class is an adventure. Every meal is an adventure. Every breath is an adventure.

The dear Allison Moran gave me a Quotable Card before I left with the ever-wise words of Mother Teresa,

"We have been created for greater things, not just to be a number in the world, not just to go for diplomas and degrees, this work and that work. We have been created in order to love and to be loved."

I love the simplicity. To love and to be loved. Short, sweet, and all-encompassing. I’m not sure how the next few months will shake out, but I have an open mind, an eager heart and eyes peeled for greater things. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll keep you posted.