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My Southeast Asia Trip Part 9 (But I’ve still got one more a’comin’. Note, not trip)! .

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Hi everyone!

I was planning on sending an update while still in Vietnam, but alas, I didn’t have time to type anything before my flight left. I flew from Vietnam to Taiwan to Alaska to New York. It was a long and strange flight path to be sure, but just smelling that Palin-Alaskan air renewed my spirit and made me want to go shoot a moose and/or have an illicit baby, so believe it or not, I’m HOME! I spent one night in the city, then came up to where my folks live in good ol’ Pleasant Valley. I ate a lot. I started telling stories, then realized that I had written a good many letters home that I could share instead. Some got forwarded here anyway, so I have quite a few to share. I thought I’d get them out and show them to you just so you get a peek into some of my more personal rantings.

Oh, and here’s one more thing I’ve got to share, because I think it’s fascinating. Did you know that Christmas is huge in Vietnam? I mean huge. There are decorations nearly everywhere, holiday pajamas being worn, and salesgirls wearing filtration masks and dressed in prosticute little santa-ess dresses that barely reach the mid-thigh. It’s a naughty version of Christmas that just seems wrong. You know what’s even more wrong? The Vietnamese singing Christmas carols. You can order up your special holiday music performed just for you in one of two incredible ways: Sung in Vietnamese and syllabically misaligned, or, even better, sung in English like this:

Jin-gle bews, Jing-gle bews,
Jin-gle aw da way,
Oh whas Ph??? is is to rie
In a one hohse o-pen say, HEY!

It’s a terrible experience. Reading my note can’t be much worse. Enjoy!

Dear French people,
It’s not that you’re trying to be rude. It’s just that you’re in your own little world of superiority. You don’t even notice other people, and it’s almost as if you walk through us than past us. Normally when meeting people I can have a normal conversation and decide if you’re interesting or not. With you, it’s like you’re in a members-only la-la land. You definitely rub people the wrong way. You’re weird.

Dear Cambodia,
You are a place where futures are today and careers are hammock lounging. Even the monks seem to be lazy, doing their morning alms at 9, 10, or even 11 in the morning. When I see markets in any country, my heart starts beating faster as I always want to jump in and see what I can find. Here, in your country, I have no desire to. Everything is the same. You don’t even try to look different, setting up every stall alike. I know what you’re selling from 50 feet away and because there are only about 10 dishes to choose from in the entire country, I’ve had whatever you’re hawking many times before, which still doesn’t make it tasty. Other than your complete lack of enthusiasm for life, you also alienate everyone with your constant request for money and your most obnoxious taxi/tuk-tuk/moto drivers. Never before have I not wanted to get out and explore a city so much as in your capital city, Phnom Penh. Not only was there almost nothing to see, but the constant harassment one faced by simply walking outside was enough to make me want to stay inside. The fact that you people wage light physical assaults on your own kind in order to sell a $1 soda makes me feel a little bit better, but still makes me sad. As does the fact that there are always about eight of you all hired to do a one-person job. Look, I know you went through terrible times. I cannot even begin to imagine what the older generation of your country went through and lives with to this day. But at some point you have to have a reason for living, a purpose, something your country is known for other than a huge ruin that’s been there for centuries. Your current generation has to do something you can be proud of, or make use of, or something, don’t you think? While I understand how your horrific background has resulted in your complacency today, your in-your-face hunger for money simply alienates me, you’re full of no innovation, and you offer little that surrounding countries don’t do better. I’m sorry to say this, but I have no desire to visit you again.

Dear Vietnam,
Compared to Cambodia, you are a futuristic country. You have such modern marvels as:

Jobs
Things to do
Careers
Toilets and showers that aren’t merged closer than Siamese twins
Activities involving things other than sitting in a hammock
Styles other than pajamas
Places to go
Technology
Lives
Variety
Soap
The habit of brushing one’s teeth
Visitors other than the French
A few more things

But for you and Cambodia both, every single place is looked at not as a place of beauty, or a place to respect or be proud of, but as another money opportunity. I suppose that once again I can’t blame you too much for wanting money, but that doesn’t mean I can’t complain. You aggressively try to get tourist dollars at any and all points along a trip. At the beginning of a boat trip. On the boat. In the middle of the boat trip, when I’m stuck in a floating tourist trap. Before I get on the bus, just in case I changed my mind in the last 14.1 seconds and do want to purchase that giant tablecloth. Oh, we need a bathroom break? We’ll get out at this rest stop for 20 minutes, and that’s not to relieve anyone of the oddly settled meal we may have had the other night, but to get us to roam a handicrafts store and purchase something out of boredom, which I refuse.
On your good side, you have several things going for you. First, I’m always shocked that you can smile and welcome us Americans. Perhaps it’s because you won the war, but the fact that you don’t hate me and are able to treat me like everyone else is really shocking. I keep expecting an attitude change once your people learn that I’m from the previous enemy country, but apparently you have forgiven.
You have absolutely stunning views all over. My train trip gave me a look into the side that tourists don’t see too often, that is, your raw, wild countryside. It definitely makes me want to go back, but next time, take it easy on trying to get my money, will you?

Dear Kenny G,
I still don’t know why you exist.

Dear Tourist,
Sure you want to travel, to explore the world. That’s fine and all, but I bet you could get a lot more done if you didn’t spend a good chunk of your time bragging about where you’ve been and how many countries you’ve crossed off your list. Hint: You haven’t seen a country just because you’ve visited or even lived in the largest city for a while. In what way is that representative of a country, its land, its people? Oh, so you know exactly what the U.S. is like because you’ve visited NYC, eh? Goodness, try really seeing a country for what it really is.
If you enjoy taking the common tours and seeing the sites, that’s fine and dandy. I’m not saying I’m better than you, or that you’re a bad person. Just don’t pretend or tell others that you’re breaking new ground and seeing “undiscovered” places. You’re never gonna find ’em, and you know why? Because you, like everyone else, are using your Lonely Planet guide. “Oh, Lonely Planet is the best out there, and I really trust it.” That’s all well and good, but not only does Lonely Planet accept bribes for higher placement in its tour books (as I’m sure all of the guidebook companies do), but everyone, and I mean that almost literally, has them. Out of the hundreds and hundreds of people I’ve seen with guidebooks, only three, that’s right, three, have had a non-Lonely Planet guide. These three were all French, because the French are so superior that they also have their own guidebook. Essentially, what this means is that all of you travelers are reading the exact same thing. This means you’re all reading the same “secrets,” all going to the same “rarely visited” places, etc. And you think you’re exploring? The real adventurers I met were the couple who biked from England to Vietnam. The young woman who snuck into Tibet several times. The guy working several years in countries from Estonia to Fiji. If you want to do the normal stuff, that’s fine. Just don’t go telling me that you’re forging new territory, because you’re not at all. “Oh, we’re going our own way and doing the tour ourselves!” you say proudly, knowing you’re truly an explorer. You’re not, really. Sure, you’re taking the more challenging, exciting, and risky route, but you’re still all going to the exact same place in the end, doing the same thing, and haggling for prices with the same tourist-familiar guides. You know what village life is like because you slept over for a night. You witnessed a “real” tribal dance. You did this and that. Sorry, but even the government admits that these things are all set up to get tourist dollars, and that these ceremonies are rarely performed for real.
I’m not saying you’re not having fun, or not seeing things, or that you’re a bad person, or need to change your ways. I’m just saying, dude, don’t make it seem like you’ve actually explored, or gone off the beaten path, or met the real people of the country. Because, as it turns out, you haven’t been a trendsetter, but rather a follower like nearly everyone else.

Dear Cats,
You think your life is so tough, don’t you? Sometimes when you’re sleeping for your 25th hour of the day, one of your masters makes you get up and move to another couch. Or worse yet, you only get half of the tuna drippings. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Well you know what? Try thinking of those less fortunate than you. The cats in Thailand and Malaysia get their tails chopped off for good luck. Sometimes they get them knotted and then chopped, leaving one heck of a demented-looking stub. Few cats escape without such treatment. So consider that next time you whine about not having your premium Kibbles ‘n’ Bits served to you in a crystal goblet.

Dear Mom,
Seriously, you really thought I’d lose weight?

Dear Karaoke,
It’s amazing what you say about a country. Somehow, through your corny music, you manage to represent the very being of every place I visited.
For you, Thailand, it’s mostly just happy music, though 99% of the time it’s about searching for love. Your country is infatuated with this constant search for love, but your tradition says you’re not allowed to show any of this love in public, so you don’t even kiss your hubby goodbye in the morning. Still, in the land of smiles, it’s the anyone-can-sing-as-long-as-he/she-wants, happy-go-lucky approach. Just like the country, in Thailand you represent happiness, a search for love, and a low-stress way of life.
For Malaysia, oh right, Islamic women aren’t really supposed to sing, so what few karaoke places there are remain dominated by male singers. One karaoke incident there recently featured two men who were arrested for the murder of Abdul Sani Doli, a man who apparently sang too long and got penalized for hogging the microphone. Messed up. I haven’t heard your music, but despite the natural beauty of your country, your corrupt government and the slightly peculiar ways of your people unfortunately describe you to a T.
When you play in Cambodia, you’re rather pathetic, and the fact that no one actually sings to you is quite sadly bizarre. Your music videos are a stretch, to be polite. Pretty much every video features the same stage full of people (often looking uninterested) and doing the same slow dance. They don’t even look happy when the low-def. camera is featuring them! I know the Khmer people went through a horrific event, but after 30 years, can’t someone try something unique? In this country, you really show yourself as the dull, uncreative, stuck-in-the-medieval-times country you are.
When in Vietnam, you are screechy and obnoxious, but varied. You show your soft side and your tough side. Not just a tad in-your-face, the Vietnamese version of you plays fairly nonstop. I’m not sure if it’s more or less palatable than the Cambodian version, but given that the Vietnamese language is pitch-based, I’m going to hand the annoying prize to Vietnam. At one point I really thought I was going to join the deaf community with your fingernails-on-chalkboard squawking. Your music in Vietnam is just like the country. Diverse, tough, victorious, yearning, and more.
All in all, I’m not a fan of your musi. But the ability for a country to display its personality through your medium is quite fascinating.

Dear Dead People,
Sometimes you’re open to new suggestions, and sometimes you’re not. I mean, when you’re alive. Well, I just want to help educate the public, and inform you that you now have two choices for burial. The Southeast Asian special is a more typical burial style, involving less luxury but more freedom of choice. Of course, you’re dead, so you ain’t got no choice, but hear me out. You can have your typical Southeast Asian burial where you’re wrapped in a simple cloth, placed maybe a foot underground, and given a huge stone coffin box to mark your spot. And you’re placed on a hill. If you’re in Vietnam when your time comes, hopefully you don’t mind sitting amidst the rice, because that’s where you’ll be. Cost of option one: your life.
But for a special offer of only 27 payments of $39.99 (plus shipping, handling, and your life), you can get bathed, dressed, and placed in a shelf-stable wooden coffin. And buried below the ground, not on a hill, because unlike the simple burial, please do realize that with any Poltergeist-like flood, ol’ granny cakes could come a’rollin’ through the front door wearing little clothing. And that’s just not cool.

Dear Temporary Mom in Malaysia,
You were so kind and generous in sharing your home, your family, your food. You taught me so much and helped me learn about your country and your people while I lived with you. But then you turned a tad crazy, playing the blame game, going on many a rant, and insisting you didn’t know hugely important bits of info related to, oh, life and/or my safety. I admire you tremendously, but yeah, you’re sort of crazy, and the fascination with mopping will always confuse me. It’s a somewhat useless, vicious cycle. You and all of Southeast Asia have this no-shoes rule, which is commonly known. But then you do the whole mopping thing, which causes me to slip and fall, and really doesn’t serve a purpose. You see, mopping removes hardened dirt and sticky stuff. Hardened dirt and sticky stuff occur when stuff gets dirty while wet. This doesn’t occur in normal conditions. But when you mop, it leaves the floor wet, and then the dirt accumulates from bare feet – no matter how clean – walking on a wet surface. You therefore have to keep mopping and mopping since you don’t ever let the floor dry before re-nastying it up. Also P.S., mopping doesn’t actually CLEAN. It redistributes things like dirt particles, crumbs, and hairs. Sweeping was invented for a reason. But thanks for making it completely nasty every time I walked in your house and especially your bathroom.

Dear Village in Thailand,
I complained about you left and right. Your food was terrible and I didn’t feel as useful as I could have been. Except for those things, though, you were exactly what I wanted. During my first week there, I went for a walk, turned a corner, and gasped at your beauty. Never before have I nearly hyperventilated at a view, but I did just that. Living there was stress-free. No computers, no hassles, no unnecessary anything. You knew these things existed but kept life simple and pure. We practically lived off the land, but with a few modern conveniences, such as electricity. Your people were very kind. Your teachers, very dedicated. The food outside your village, delicious. The rest of Thailand, absolutely beautiful. I may have complained while I was there, but you are what I thought about during the rest of my trip, and you’re what I wanted to go back to. I felt so safe, calm, and comfortable in this place so completely opposite my world. You are the most gorgeous place I have ever visited, and I will never forget you.

Dear Thailand Music Videos,
Just thought I’d drop you a line telling you that I really, really love your music videos. The fact that the people lip syncing and performing the songs are not the actual singers is a terrific idea, because who wouldn’t want to see Kid Rock act out a Nickelback song?

Well that’s all for now. You thought you’d escape with this being my last note, but no, I’ve got a summary coming next week. It just wouldn’t be proper to leave without reaching my full annoying potential, so you’ll be getting one more note from me.

And to answer your question, pizza was the first thing I meant to eat when I landed, but my brother brought me a brownie which was so good that I teared up. I’m not even kidding.

It’s really time to go now. There are people to talk to, lounging around to do, and, oh, a life plan to figure out at some point. But not now. Time to go and fill my hungry stomach with pure, fatty goodness.

For the second to last time,
Coop

My Southeast Asia Trip Part 6 (and I haven’t stepped on a landmine yet)!

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Dear friends and family,

 

I know it’s been a while since my last email, and I apologize for that. I have been quite busy going here and there and exploring all over. What I’ve noticed, other than my expanding figure, is that many of you seem confused by the various terms I use. “What in the world is a ______, Kathryn?” Or sometimes it’s, “You managed to do WHAT in a ______?” So to help make it easier, I’ve made up a dictionary of sorts of Southeast Asian terms. I know it’s not in alphabetical order, but I just wrote a word down when I thought of it, and that’s what you’re reading. There are two sections for your viewing pleasure: Words and Numbers. I hope that by reading this, you’re able to learn a few new words and numbers in the Khmer, Thai, and Malay languages. Enjoy!

 


Words

 

Bed (phlawhr) – n. ­– 

a place on which to sleep. Surfaces include cement, tile, wood, bamboo, or other cuddly materials

 

Mat • tress (yous´ – less) – n. – an optical and physical illusion taking place where an inviting sleeping cushion actually provides no padding and serves no purpose

 

Clean (???æ¡??) – ? – No entry found; origin unknown

 

Sizz • ler (dohn’t´ – goh´) – not a tr.v.. – a once-popular steakhouse and buffet chain considered delicious only by faulty childhood memories. Occasionally spotted in unfortunate American towns. Recently spotted in northern Thailand. Avoid at all costs. Any consumer will want to kill him or herself after consuming any food or liquid at this establishment. This is a fact

 

Ice – Cream (r??ce´ – dr??m) – n. – a sweet confection messed up by Southeast Asia. Eaten with bread and rice in Thailand, but messed up further in Malaysia. Considered shaved ice mixed with rosewater syrup, coconut milk, and tamarind juice atop rice threads, several kinds of beans, and corn. Also considered wrong

 

Cock • roach • es (eh´ – vr?? – wear) – n. – a visual weight-loss supplement

 

Tail • gate • ing (th??s´ – ??z – tooh´ – cl??hs) – tr.v. – traveling in one moving vehicle dangerously closely behind another moving vehicle, allowing the follower a closer encounter w/ a water buffalo’s posterior than ever desired

 

Ro • ti – Ca • nai (wear´ – ??n – n?? – yourk´?) – n. –  the new favorite dish of a certain fatso. Not commonly found unless in Malaysia, where it’s served at Indian-Malaysian restaurants. Consists of the most delicious, chewy and multi-layered warm flatbread and served with spicy dhals, chicken gravies, beef curries, and more. Costs under $1 before conversion.

 

Fat (koop) – pl.pl.adj. – Kathryn Cooper

 

Fatter (koop nowh´) – pl.pl.adj. – Kathryn Cooper now.

 

Obese (wurks´ tooh) – pl.pl.adj. – a multi-purpose word used to describe Kathryn Cooper spanning any time period between the last 10 years and the next many decades.

 

Mul • lets (hear – tooh´?) – pl.n. – an unfortunately common site in Malaysia, most often found on middle-aged, creepy, and single Malay men waiting to prey on and/or grope Kathryn Cooper

 

Air – con • di • tion • er (nawt – n??s – wahl´ – h??ng- ??ng) – n. – Infrequent Usage – a stagnant, unattractive wall decoration

 

Toi • let – Pa • per (1.) ??hn´ – l?? – ??hn – dr??hmz or (2.) shr??dz´ – ??hn – s??´ – k??ndz – n. – Infrequent Usage – 1. (rare) a thin sheet of semi-absorbent paper product intended for use as a cleansing wipe for the buttocks. 2. (common) the familiar roll serving a different function, and doing a rather poor job

 

Pa • per – Tow • els – see Toilet Paper (2)

 

Dish – Tow • els – see Toilet Paper (2)

 

Tis • sue (spr??d – jermz) 1. (futuristic) a thin sheet of soft, semi-absorbent paper meant to catch anything blown from the nasal passages. 2. (common; no relation to word) a lack of said material, leading to public nose-picking and snotting over any balcony or deck

 

Mon • gol • i • a (??z´ – nt – tooh – l??te; alt. sheed´ – f??ned – ?? – whay) – n. – a place recommended to Kathryn Cooper as the one possible country where, due to a likely lack of good food, she might not gain weight.

 

Wear – Pa 

• ja • mas (f??´ – sh??n – m??hst) – v. –what the cool crowd does. A true kind of full-frontal fashion in Cambodia. Previously thought of as simply a comfy night outfit, and now all the rage as all-day, high-fashion, functional wear. Note: Must be worn in a bright, jewel-tone color with a ridiculously child-like print, especially when worn by a grown woman. Matching top and bottom required

 

Numbers

 

 

9 – various Indian flatbreads (entire pita-sized cipatti and pouri) that Kathryn once ate for a single dinner. Served with freshly made yogurt, curry, and multiple desserts

 

3 – typical number of workers outnumbering actual patrons at your average guesthouse (hostel), restaurant, or mini-mart in much of Southeast Asia, due to  overstaffing and a lack of need to work or do anything other than talk with friends and sit in hammocks all day

 

19 – mosquito bites gotten from typing part of this email the other night on an outdoor computer

 

1 – stinging ant bites gotten on the neck from sending this email out tonight

 

26 – seconds spent wondering why there’s a dude sleeping on the pool table next to this computer

 

348 – seconds spent sadly pondering the fact that the pool table is a permanent sleep solution for the dude, considering the fact that he’s got a whole blanket and pillow setup with a mosquito net on top of it all

 

2 – times in Cambodia that Kathryn Cooper has been called “sir,” quickly followed by a giggle and then, “ma’am.”

 

0.7 seconds  –  the time delay between turning on a Thai or Cambodian “open drain” bathroom sink and then feeling everything that went down the train splash onto your feet

 

0.5 seconds  – the time it takes one to remember that what just went down the open drain is about to splash onto one’s feet, at wish point it is generally too late to do anything except accept that your feet are about to get another dose of spent flouride

 

 

So now that you’ve learned a few new terms, I hope you can start to incorporate them into your everyday language! Just try one word a day, and in no time, you’ll be speaking like a local and gaining weight like a Coop.

 

As you know, last you heard I went snorkeling in Malaysia for several months. Actually, it was for less than a week, and though it was wonderful, I was eager to get started on my next volunteer project. This one had many parts, and had me doing photography, videography, farming, gardening, cooking, and much more. I lived with several Chinese families, an Indian family, mixed groups, Aborigines, and others. I spent time in several different parts of Malaysia, getting to work right under the Petronas towers, on farms, in the jungle, and around limestone cliffs.

 

It was such a beautiful experience that made me so, so glad that I’m on this trip. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now, and there’s no replacement for what I’m learning on this adventure. From the good to the bad, the exciting to the downright nasty, I’m thankful for every experience. Because I stayed the majority of the time with one woman (who ran most of the non profits or had the connections to every location I volunteered with in Malaysia), I got amazing insider advice on the true beauty, and the true problems, within Malaysia. From the logging of the rainforests to religion to communism, I was told stories and histories I never had a clue existed. My host wouldn’t even let me search online or type about any of these issues for fear that the government had her home tapped. One night when she was telling me one story in particular, she was convinced that a man sitting next to us in the restaurant was listening in on our conversation and possibly targeting her for rebel activity. Interesting highlights in Malaysia include the most sketchy train ride and Malay man ever, a crew of the biggest potheads I’ve ever met (including several elderly and teachers), an Indian New Year festival where I may not have blended in, and a man who explained my entire personality to me without even talking to me. Did I mention the hammock that broke with me swinging in it? Or the bamboo palace I camped in while staying on the property of a man who believed in another dimension and married a mentally retarded native because he believes he was his wife in a past life?

 

Anyhow, Malaysia had to come to an end, so it was off to southern Thailand for a bit and then into Cambodia. It’s mostly traveling from now on, so there will be fewer “local” or insider stories, and likely less ranting from yours truly. I better run now since I’m on an outdoor computer in Cambodia, getting eaten alive by more mosquitoes. 

 

I love all the messages you guys send and all the points y’all bring up in your emails, so keep ‘em coming!

 

Until next time,

Coop

 

My Southeast Asia Trip Part 4 (and I’ve moved to a new place)!

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Greetings once again! I apologize for the huge gap in my writings, but it wasn’t for lack of things to write about. I simply didn’t get enough time on a computer to write much of anything, and every time I did, there was no internet. But here I am writing to you from a new location. I was sad to leave my most gorgeous place in the village, my friend Sanit, and a place I felt was home, but it was definitely time to move on. Although my family says they’ll miss me, I will not miss their bathroom facilities. In my month plus in Thailand thus far, I have learned many things, and I’ve decided to compile everything and present it to you all. I hope you learn everything you might want to know if you were planning a visit, so let’s start.


Lessons I’ve Learned


1. Never Wear Your Dress Pants On A School Day.

            Because there’s always a chance that after school, you might be brought to the aftermath of a wedding ceremony in a house laden with pig parts. Sanit, my friend the English teacher, wanted to bring me to a wedding. On a…Thursday? Ok, well of course I wanted to see it…but the ceremony had happened that morning since Hilltribe Bride Bi-Weeklyreported that Thursday morning weddings are the new fad, so we just went to say hello or something. There weren’t many people when we got there. Just a few men hacking a huge pig apart. There was blood spattered all over the floor of the house, and when my foot felt something warm on bottom, I knew I had stepped on it. What can you do. So we sat down and Sanit blabbed with the villagers. We never saw the bride or groom. They kept stacking pig parts around us. It was a very, very big pig. The jaw itself was quite large. The house was extremely dark, but not dark enough to block my view of the fairly gross elders. Old men ate around us. Several had nasty growths on their bellies and faces. They stuck their utensils in everyone’s food. All around, a great experience. We finally left. When I stood up to go and brushed myself off, I discovered that I had sat on pork and had it all over the seat of my pants. Lovely.

 

 

2. Never Think That After the Pig Parts Soiree Your Evening is Over.

            Because there’s a darn good chance that you’ll be whisked away in your porky pants to meditate at a Buddhist temple with really, really chatty nuns. Sanit wanted me to try meditation. Given my ADD-like, unable-to-relax nature, I was game to try it. Unfortunately they were in the middle of chanting when we arrived. For an hour. Not calming songs like that of Gregorian Chant, but nasal-y “singing” on only 4 separate notes. It was pretty much like hearing fingernails scraping a chalkboard for 60 minutes straight, but with 4 different variations of aural agony. Then we meditated. I thought about food a lot but tried to keep a clear mind. After the meditation, I was excited to change and eat dinner. But oh no, the nuns turned to Sanit and started chatting…and chatting…and chatting. For an hour. The first 10 minutes was filled with, “?????????????????? ??????????????? ??????????????????????????????????  AMER-I-GAH ????????????????????? ??????????????? HAHAHAHA!”

Then they blabbed in Thai a lot more. Meditation is not my thing.

 

3. The Plant You Pick On The Side Of The Road May Be Your Favorite Meal

            Seriously, my third day in the village I was already dying because every meal tasted the same. I made it a month with the help of a plant I was taught to find in the wild. Called “Gua Tho-long,*” it is a plant that grows up to 15’ tall, with huge green leaves and white flowers at the top. You pick certain leaves, and, along with a different plant’s green “berries,” boil it all, then squeeze out the bitterness, then chop and re-cook with seasoning. It is served dry and is pretty much the only dish that’s not swimming in water. And it’s DELICIOUS. I couldn’t believe it the first time it was cooked. I had picked these huge leaves and had this delicious breakfast the next morning. Once my family heard it was my favorite, they made it about twice a week. They don’t get bored with things since boredom is basically a way of life there, so they didn’t mind having something once a week, twice a week, or three times a day. I know what you’re asking. “Ms. Cooper, would you actually elect to have this dish if you weren’t stuck in the hilltribes?” Well that’s like asking if I’d kill one of my children to save another. You can’t answer that until you’re in the situation. My comparison is not extreme. Really, though, the chances of this plant starting to grow in America are rare to none, so I think that until one of those days comes, I’ll just have to eat pasta.

 

*This could be spelled any way you like since the word is Lawa (tribal) and has never been written in Lawa, Thai, or English. There is therefore is no actual correct or incorrect spelling.”

 

4. Monsters Come In Many Colors, And Even The Most Despised Insects Are Beautiful In Thailand.

            Even though I live in the mountainous north and not the tropical south, the insects are still amazing. The moths come in every color of the rainbow. There are lavender ones, yellow ones, blue ones, greenish ones, and more. There are ones that fold their wings to form dart-like arrows, and ones that have what looks like a giant, upwards-sweeping fan. They’re 1cm. long and 4” long. On any given night you can go near a light and find tons of them, and so I just stared one night near a light in back. Yeah, I have the time. One moth had black and white stripes on the top half and was bright orange with white spots on the bottom. Another was grey with metallic silver lining and polka dots. They’re incredible. The spiders are ginormous, with some measuring 5”+. And they’re blue, yellow, red, purple, green, and more. Amazing! The beetles are incredible, and there are insects I never even thought existed. I think American insects need to step it up, seriously. Get some plastic surgery or something.

 

5. If There Is Electricity, People Will Blast Music From Their Homes.

            And no matter where in the world you are, it will always sound like Shakira.

 

6. The Best Part Of Going Somewhere Is The Ride From My Village To There.

            To the villagers, I’m sure the trip to and from “town” is a huge bother, but to me it is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. It puts any scenic route in America to shame. Every time I go on it I notice 20 new things. It’s an hour I love to spend looking out the window, or in many cases, being out in the open air either on the back of a truck or on a moto. There are huge mountains, layers upon layers in the distance, a haunted ghost mountain, animals, traffic congestion (cows), stuck vehicles, people, and beautiful farms galore. There are tree roots a hundred feet long curving down rock faces, shepherds doing nothing about their cows taking up 2/3rds of the road, landslides, parts where the road has disappeared, thunderstorms, and more. Not to mention the mud patch, which is several kilometers of pure mud, not dirt. It takes a good 25 minutes just to do that section.

            On one trip back up the mountain to my village, a thunderstorm was just passing. Sanit was driving and I was sitting behind him. We were weaving along the side of a mountain, the rain had stopped a while ago, and there was lightening in the distance. Not just any lightening, but you know that kind they use in the movies where the sky lights up a bit and there’s a distant rumble of thunder? That looks completely fake? That lightening. It was ridiculously beautiful and surreal.

            And then there was the ride last week. Sanit and I were just returning from a big overnight village teaching trip, and this is about how the trip went. Remember that it’s not a 1-hour drive, but a trek that you may or may not win without injury to you or your vehicle.

 

The drive is bad enough during the day. Now try it at night. With pouring rain. In pitch black darkness. And (my worst nightmare) without having had dinner.

Now try it carrying, in total, on a small moto, two people, clothing for 8 days, washed laundry, a sleeping back, a camera, fresh veggies, an additional, unwieldy 10lb. bag of veggies, two folders of government documents, and a box of school supplies. With about 30 pounds of that on my back in my camping pack. With a parka covering half my body and most of my pack, but really protecting nothing.

On a moto meant to carry one or two Thais, not one Thai and a giant American.

This rainy night ride was actually going fine and the rain started to lessen. Basically, I still had a dry patch somewhere on my shorts, which was terrific. Then the rain worsened, and that stuff hurts when you’re riding against it as fast as we were. Then Sanit’s glasses broke. Then he didn’t see the start of the mud patch, so we rushed into in full force. It stoppedus. A huge puddle of mud sprayed all over the two of us. We went through and through, up and down and around huge mudholes. If you’ve ever ridden the Coney Island Cyclone, this mud patch will do about ten times the damage that ride could ever do to your body. We road on with sounds such as, “Reowr, REEEAWR, rawr, roar, uglchchck CRACK!” We hit a rougher rough patch. It’s hard to cross so many deep ditches without injuring the bike in some way. Of course, he didn’t look to see if any part of the bike was missing until 10 minutes later. Whatever it was, it didn’t stop us. All was all right until we hit some flat “smooth” mud and he went all happy-go-lucky, speeding gleefully until I experienced something that felt strangely familiar, that is, driving into the mud full force again and getting showered in mud until we ran into a ditch too deep to painlessly get out. That patch (i.e., many km. of mud and ditches often two feet deep) presented us with the first of many slipping, going backwards, spinning sideways, etc. experiences.

Then we encountered a stuck truck. The driver came over to explain his predicament just as his truck lurched forward by itself. We got off our moto and walked over to help him.

His truck was eight feet away, but it took me 30 seconds to slip ‘n’ slide there. We pushed and with sever squelches in the mud, he was off.

I had to get out and walk because the moto was too weak and stuck to carry us both out of a particularly big hole.

Sanit went riding/slipping up by the side of me, but once he passed I was walking in the dark, sliding along with a huge pack on my back and a sack of veggies.

I found my way back on the bike. We went swerving sideways and then the other sideways. It really wouldn’t be considered a safe ride. The rain started coming down harder.

We reached paved road again.

We reached fog. “Heave left!” I yelled, half joking. It was truly that hard to know where the road was going. Sanit took that to mean that speeding would be a good thing to do.
Although I was enjoying the ride somewhere in my strange mind, I was cold, wet, and sore all over from sitting on part seat and part back bar. I’d never wanted rice so badly.

There was traffic congestion in the middle of the fog.

We got through the fog and reached our village.

We got to my house and I got off the moto, looking ridiculous with mud splattered all over my wet self. It had been a long, tough trip with nearly five hours in total of bumping and balancing in a truck and on a moto.
“Goodnight,” Sanit said. “Goodnight,” I replied, and walked into my house.

There was no rice.

 

7. If A Snack Here Says “Cream Filled,” Don’t Trust It.

            Because they have no idea what it really means, and they’ve proved many times that they can’t write with correct English grammar. I’ve tried three varieties of cream-filled fails. First came the Wafer Fill Chocolate and Milk Cream bar. This was a square of rather dry wafer sticks just bursting with cream. Except the “cream” here was a chocolate-y, chalky, somewhat nasty substance. I felt cheated because of buying this snack, even though it cost me about 15 cents. But they tried. Then there’s Gallame, the sweet that says, “Delicious, Full of Cream, Full of Flavor, Healthy.” It is none of these things. Lastly there was the Milk Cream Filled Corn Snack, which had a slow start and no middle. Literally. The package showed cream just dripping out of the snack, which looked like a larger version of Captain Crunch. It was not good, and not only did it have no milk cream filling, it had no filling at all. It was hollow. Fail on all cream-filled sweets.

 

8. Realize That If There’s A Wedding One Week, Chances Are There’ll Be A Funeral The Next.

            I kid you not. Sanit told me there was a funeral and said he wanted to take me to it. As long as I wasn’t going to offend the locals, I was game. Was it bad that I was hoping there was free food? Ok, I know I’m bad, but come on. You would wish too. So we arrived at the funeral, which was really a two-minute walk away. There were quite a few people, including “mourners,” artists painting messages on big posters, and other villagers. I write mourners in quotes because strangely, everyone was in quite a good mood. Laughing and loud chatting was heard ‘round the house, and when we went up the ladder into the house of the deceased, we came upon more people squished inside, chatting merrily away. Apparently people see death differently here. They tell me that they get over death very quickly and don’t dwell on it. I had seen the man who had died walking around a few days before, and he had only died that morning. Imagine organizing a funeral in less than 12 hours! He unfortunately, bless his soul, died from old age and something having to do with upset stomach and diarrhea. How would YOU like to go out with everyone knowing you needed Pepto-Bismol and a good toilet? Dang. So I totally won with the free food, getting unlimited mini jam biscuits. There was some tribal singing and someone read some passages from some book. I understood none of it, though one of the songs definitely had “Hallelujah” in there. All in all, it was not what I expected, and I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable knowing that people were talking about death by feces at my funeral.

 

9. If You Feel Like Something Is Crawling On You, You Probably Stepped On An Ant Hill.

            And they’ll sting and inject their formic acid into you, which they can do over and over again since their barbless stingers don’t cause them to die after stinging. And even if you don’t feel like something is crawling on you, you still may have gotten a leech, which injects a saliva with anesthetic so that you don’t feel anything until you look down and see blood. Awesome.

 

10. American Kids May Be Disrespectful, But Thai Kids Take Respect To A Whole New Creepy Level.

            So the other weekend I had an amazing experience. I was asked to teach at a “camp” in another village. Sanit and I were the esteemed visiting teachers, so we were transported via moto and truck to a village so remote, it took 3 hours of ridiculously bumpy roads to get there. I knew it was a bad start when the conversation went something like this: “Bump, bump, BANG, bump, bumpity, bump…” “Ka-ter-een, after 20km of this good road, we’ll do much more on the bad road…” Yes, the road got so, so much worse. It was fun as long as you don’t mind bumping along on a mountain road that’s much worse than our village mountain one. For three hours! We also drove through a river to get there. I don’t know how their trucks last, but luckily it was a shallow river. The ride is an experience not to be forgotten, and I only hit my head once on the back glass and twice on the guy next to me. Really, though, it was actually fun.

 

So the most amazing experience was that no foreigner had ever visited this Karen (instead of Lawa) hilltribe village. Do you get what that means? It means that I was the first person ever, from anyone other than Thailand, to visit this place. This also meant that I was probably the tallest to ever step foot there. This means that no one had ever seen or taken real photos of this amazing place, seen the amazing varieties of trees and ferns, met the kids, or anything. This also meant that I was, for most of the kids, the first white person they’d ever seen. You can’t imagine how incredible this was. I can only hope I made a good impression. Some of the kids had been to town before, but since most are from places even further away from civilization, I was the first foreigner they’d ever seen. The kids played it cool, but did they stare when they thought I wasn’t looking! Because their families live so far away on remote farms, these kids actually live at the school, dormitory style. And did I mention that there was no electricity here? It was actually quite depressing even though the kids were extremely happy. They know nothing more, so they deeply enjoy what they have.

 

Anyhow, the kids were great and actually lived in better facilities than in my village. That is, there were actually buildings made of concrete. The teachers also lived with the students, one teacher in a private room to about 15 students, aged 5-18. This meant that the kids slept on hard concrete floors with only a blanket and a mosquito net covering them. Candles were used in the evening and nighttime. The bathroom was one of the most disgusting things I’ve seen, though I think most of the gunk was just candle wax. It really made me feel terrible, but these people were so kind, happy, and giving, so I acted the same back to them. They were so respectful that it really was creepy. One time, for instance, I needed to go to the bathroom. I went inside to my dormitory, where I was staying with one of the teachers in her room. As usual, the kids fell quiet and stared. The bathroom was being used. No biggie, I walked outside and started going back across the bamboo bridge. “Ka-ter-een, Ka-ter-EEN!” I turned and saw the school’s English teacher running towards me. “They done with bathroom, you use now.” Yes, the girls had yelled to one another that I, the all-important person in this mini-village, had needed to go to the bathroom, and that it needed to be vacated immediately, and then those girls had informed the English teacher, who had come running after me to tell me that it was now free. I felt so, so bad. The kids would bring you food, water for brushing your teeth, anything. They were so willing to help but so, so shy.

 

I have to talk about the food though. It was INCREDIBLE! I had actual cooking that involved cooking more than one vegetable. They really knew how to cook here, and for each meal all of us teachers would join together and talk, which was great fun even if I only understood about 5% of what went on. Sadly, some of the teachers spoke better English than the English teacher. Not a good sign. The food, man, the food. There would be about 5 main dishes at every meal, and everything I tasted was amazing. Even the most weird-sounding thing, like morning glory greens, was fantastic. They’d actually use this modern method of cooking called mixing several different things together to make a dish, so there were soups, meat dishes, fish dishes, omelets, gravies, noodle dishes, rice dishes, sauces, etc. I stuffed my face at every meal. Of course rice was served with every meal, but it wasn’t the meal, so I didn’t mind. Once, I got super excited because out from the cooking place came…noodles! It was elbow macaroni. Wow, I thought, my day can’t get much better than this. Then I saw that they mixed in things…like baked beans…and weird soy protein strings…and cabbage. Ok, so the pasta was made of rice anyhow, but I tell you, I’d take that wrong dish over my village’s dishes any day. The rest of the food was less odd and was truly great, central-Thai-style cooking. And sometimes they’d even have things like fresh fruit, another modern invention. I ate well here. You can see it in the pictures.

Back in teaching, the older kids were having a grand time, though I just don’t have the room to go into detail. They found it fascinating to play the simplest games, and loved any activity we did with them. When I gave out a few postcards from NY as prizes (it was all I had brought with me, unfortunately), the winners all ran up after and asked for my autograph. In broken English, of course. The last day, they all had their pictures taken with me, giggling insanely because they didn’t know how to handle this occurrence. I’m not even going to mention the part where they made me sing and dance in front of them. They were collapsing with laughter, so hey, I did something right, right?

 

It was truly a great experience, and so many kids ran to wave goodbye as we…waded across the river. Remember the one we drove through to get here? Well, a huge storm the day before had caused everything to flood, so everything had to be carried across. The moto, my pack, and our supplies were carried across by generous teen boys. It was a sight to behold with the water up to my thighs, I tell you. Not only was the food good, but we were treated with such warmth, kindness, and respect. I’d go back in a heartbeat.

 

11. They Don’t Hate Dogs Everywhere In Thailand.

            They actually fed the dogs at the village mentioned above. Not meat. Not bones. Not dog food, silly. Can you guess what? You know where I’m going. Yes, they fed the dogs rice. White, cooked, leftover rice.

 

12. Thai Hawker Food Is So Awesome That Before You Know It, You’ve Spent Tons Of Money On Food Ten Dollars.

            So it was goodbye to my village and hello to a 5-hour-long un-air conditioned bus to Chiang Mai. Onto the next step of my journey! I arrived and took a tuk-tuk (a small, open-air three-wheeled taxi) to this town I knew nothing of. Of course I didn’t have a map, so I walked around and wonder of wonders, after asking some folks and walking some more, I actually found a place to stay in a very cheap but well-respected guesthouse (hostel). I decided to stay for two nights, and the next day, I rented a bike and road all over town. I tell you, renting that bike for 24 hours was the best $1.20 I ever spent.

            I rode all over, turning onto the little streets, finding small markets, turning onto other small streets, grabbing a 50-cent smoothie, etc. etc. I road outside the city castle walls and into the really busy part of Thailand’s second largest city, and there I found a supermarket. While this may not sound exciting to many of you, it was exciting to me because a.) I love food and supermarkets, and b.) I knew it would be a great way to see all the normal, commercial foods and wrong eats. And I tell you, there were so many wrong eats. It was a normal store until you came upon the fish strip snacks, the cuttlefish chips, the floating-things-in-your-drink quencher, the entire pastry section, the “burgers,” and more things that God never intended Thai people to make in hopes of imitating Western food. I just had to get something, so I got an odd drink and a bread loaf. It was so wrong, and sweet with onions and something else, but for some reason I found it delicious. Later on I found a street stall selling ice cream, and it was here that I consumed something neither God nor man ever wanted created: Ice cream served inside bread, with peanuts, red sauce, something sprinkled on, and rice. My friend had warned me about the bread part, but I just couldn’t seem to escape the rice. I don’t know why it was added since it has no taste within the ice cream, but it was edible. Further on I got noodles at a roadside stall, then banana fritters, then about five more dishes. Then I biked further outside the city limits and found the motherload, a huge market with what must have been Chiang Mai’s major wholesale food market, and I only found it because I was biking in some random back alleys. There was every fruit and vegetable you’ve never seen, every cut of meat, all kinds of drinks and dishes, sauces, flopping fish and other creatures, and more. From the looks of everyone there, who looked stunned, I take it that I was one of very, very few foreigners who had every found this place. My day was amazing, and I’d tasted about 20 dishes for about 10 dollars. It was incredible. I was so full that the next morning, I had an upset stomach. I took a bike ride, had a 30-minute chat with a monk by a lovely temple and a pond filled with monster lily pads and tin homes on stilts, then returned the bike. My stomach still hurt, so I walked a different way to my guesthouse, on another tiny back road, and got a smoothie. Then I noticed that this particular hut was serving food, and so I did what anyone else with a tummy ache would do and ordered a spicy green curry. I tell you, that was the best dish I had in all of Chiang Mai.

 

 

So, folks, I took a flight from northern Thailand to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where I now reside. I have already gone on two trips within Malaysia, but those stories must wait until next time. I am having a wonderful adventure and hope that the fall season is lovely back where you all are. I love hearing from you, so keep those messages coming!

 

Until next time, and with a full stomach of non-rice edibles,

Coop

 

 

My Southeast Asia Trip Part 3 (and I’m still existing on rice)!

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Hey everyone! Guess what? I didn’t have any rice this week! You know that of course I’m lying. Of course I had rice. But to be honest, I did get something different. We made fries from pumpkins and potatoes, and had them with Heinz’s 58th variety, Thai ketchup. It was amazingly greasy. Pumpkin fries in a wok? They were delicious, but it could be because I’ve had only rice for the past 4 weeks. Anyhow, from the emails and notes I got regarding my last email, it seems as if I must tone it down this week. I think a few of you took me a little too seriously! Of course I’m writing about my experiences here, but I want it to be clear that I’m not complaining so much as trying to make my time here sound as awesome as it is, and just as interesting and entertaining for the reader. I’m having a really great experience and want to tell my stories to you all, so please enjoy.

As usual, the internet is in short supply. I’ve decided to go a different route this week. Many of you have written in, so this week I’ve done my best to answer reader questions. Let’s start with this popular one I received all the way from Guam!

Q: Coop, could you go into more detail about what you actually eat with the rice? You said you ate various vegetables and rice. What are they? How are they cooked? Is it tasty? Typical of Thai food? Do you ever find any…foreign ingredients in it?
-your friend, Guam

A: Ah, good question, Guam. What we eat are usually vegetables that are either completely different here, or not even seen in America. Even if it’s a similar vegetable variety, it’s usually cooked in a different way from how we Americans would cook it. But if you ate here, you’d realize that everything starts to taste much the same. So we’re given a portion of freshly cooked rice in the morning, cold rice for lunch, and fresh rice for dinner. The vegetable might be cabbage, or baby cabbage, or an Asian lettuce, or some weird, ridged, long, green veggie, or mini white eggplants, or green leaves, or bamboo. But almost everything is prepared in the same way. A bit of oil goes in a wok over the fire, small garlic chunks are added (with skins), and then the cut vegetable is added. Mysterious seasonings are sprinkled on. These might include salt, or pork seasoning, or various viscous liquids. Then water is added and the thing is covered. It cooks for a while, and this makes everything the consistency of something that’s been stewed or simmered for a long time. It’s a veggie in a bowl of seasoned water/borderline soup. If you recall Arrested Development’s hot ham water, well…I think this is probably very similar.
The cooking is not typical of Thai food, but is my tribe’s food. It’s very simple to make, and when I cooked one time, they were shocked I could do it. Seriously? It’s oil, garlic, the veggie, seasoning, and water. Pretty simple. It’s tasty the first time. As for the foreign ingredients part of the question…there are so many things and creatures that are in the food that we’re not even going to go into it.

Q: I heard your multiple comments about a lack of toilet paper. I also heard that you have a 1-year-old baby in your household, so I’m curious. Diapers…?
-Terri Fyedbutt Coorious

A: They don’t do diapers.

Q: Yo dawg, you know me, I’m a party animal, and while I know you’re lame and don’t do that stuff, I still figured you’d know the party scene. I have a 3-part question. First, what’s the night scene like?
-awesome dude in kolej

A: Ah, terrific question. We finish eating at 7PM. Kids do homework or go to temple, or play with the limited number of toys. Parents and grandparents talk and smoke their ginormous pipes. Friends sometimes visit. There are also chores, such as getting water, washing dishes, or sweeping, though they tend to enjoy sweeping most when we have the open bowls of food lying on the ground so that the dirt and partial creature particles can gently float into my meal. Sometimes I go to my pal’s home (the English teacher I made friends with here) where we’ll talk and eat bizarre dishes, such as passion fruit, fish sauce, and red pepper. Or instant noodles (YES! Ate that twice.) with lemon, red pepper flakes, chilis, and cabbage. Or lemon with red pepper and salt. Sometimes I’ll crochet or read. That’s the usual evening.

Q2: And the street scene? Loud and crazy? Hot chicks?

A2: Lots of pigs roam the streets. And piglets. And chickens, homeless dogs, the
occasional crab or water buffalo, cows… Motorbikes frequently pass by, as does the
occasional pregnant woman.

Q3: Lastly, I need a great hangover food. I often party hard, and I expect

I’d party harder over there. What do you recommend for a
great hangover brunch?

A3: Rice.

Q: What’s the most dangerous thing you’ve done so far?
-your mother doesn’t want to know the answer to this question

A: Seriously, it’s a pretty safe place with the exception of the motorcycle riding. It’s what you have to do to get from point A to point B. There’s nothing I can do about it, so please don’t yell at me. But to answer your question, the most dangerous thing thus far has actually been the farming, no joke. On my family’s farm, for example, we had a ride there where I had to entrust my life to a 15-year-old, walk for a long time, and start farming only to hear the father yell. Three people and translations later, I found out it was because a colorful snake had bitten him. Poisonous? Naturally. So he motored back with one hand and was driven to the “hospital” an hour away. He had to stay overnight because his arm was so swollen. As for myself, I discovered that rice farming is in fact almost back-breaking work. I knew it was hard and thankless, but I learned that the taller you are, the harder it is. You can’t duck below the grass, so you have to stoop in a most uncomfortable way, and the blades of grass, weeds, and bugs really get at you when you’re down under the canopy of rice. That stuff is big. I am now a master with a curved machete. I also got two more leeches, cuts that kept bleeding, etc. The mom got a machete cut on her thumb following week. You also work on super steep mountains that you can easily slide down, etc. It ain’t exactly safe.

Q: You still haven’t told me what you’re doing there.
-Lori

A: Technically this isn’t a question.

Q: Could you just answer her bloody question?
-Everyone else

A: Wait, how did you—

Q: Please?
-Don’t push it

A: Ok, well, it’s a long answer that I can explain better in person, but basically I knew I always wanted an adventure, and I was always interested in Southeast Asia. After living in NYC for a while and becoming frustrated with many things, I decided that now was a terrific time for a volunteer and travel adventure. And why not do it all by myself? That’s often my favorite way to explore. Since I knew I wanted to volunteer and work with my hands, but not pay to help others (which just ain’t right!), I had to research opportunities for months. I found some small sites that would exchange work for living and food, so I contacted many places and set something up. Eventually I decided where to go, how long to go, and what to do. Well, I’m still in the midst of deciding that, but I have a rough idea. I found a woman who would bring me up to the hilltribe village I’m in now. Cities across the world may be different, but in the end they’ve still got many similar characteristics and features. Also, true need occurs in rural areas where there is less funding and fewer resources. So to make long story short, I’m volunteering and traveling across Southeast Asia, and the biggest portion (this hilltribe volunteering) is almost over. It’s been amazing living somewhere else, and I feel completely at home here. After this (and I leave next week!), I’m heading to Malaysia for a bit of travel, then to volunteer there. After that, more traveling and possible volunteering. I love to help, and there are ways to do that in truly amazing places. I hope to bring everything I learn and see back to the U.S. with me so that I have new perspectives. Why wait until I’m old to travel and have an adventure? The time for me to explore is now, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

If you want the long story of why I came, feel free to ask and I’ll tell ya.

Q: Do you ever wake up and still think you’re back at home in the States?
-Ignorant in Iowa

A: Oh, totally. I mean, often at home I’ll wake up, brush some ants off myself, see mountains out the windowless window, have rice for breakfast around a fire with people who don’t speak my language, and go to the bathroom in a porcelain hole with the opportunity to pet a pale greenish-pink lizard. Not that I have.

Q: Why don’t you just wash yourself in bleach when you arrive home?
-The Mystified Morristown Monk

A: I very much appreciate the suggestion, but it wouldn’t clean me and would only make me more pale. Besides, Michael Jackson did that and look what happened to him. Ummm…too soon?

Q: Ok, miss complainer. If you have such trouble communicating with your village folk, then why didn’t you study Thai before leaving?
-Smart Alec

A: Ok, thank you for that. Here’s the deal. First, I’m traveling to at least four countries, so getting good at any of ‘em would be hard. Like many languages, Thai is both regional and often incorrect in phrasebooks. The language books work for Bangkok and most surrounding and Southern provinces. Up here in the NW near Burma, it’s slightly different, but enough to mess up even “yes” and “no.” The writing is all crunched together and made up of loopy lines. It’s not the “nam pla” or “pad thai” English-ized Thai language that we struggle with in restaurants. It’s a completely different alphabet, just like Japanese. The main thing, however, is that they rarely speak Thai here! In fact, it’s the secondary language. There are about eight hilltribes in Thailand (who live in mountains, not hills), and each has their own distinct language. I live in a Lawa hilltribe. Not only are there no phrasebooks for my hilltribe, the Lawa language itself is different across northern Thailand! We’re not talking accents or slight differences; we’re talking about pretty much completely different words. The kids don’t even learn Thai until they’re about 6.
All of this is a tremendous excuse to make up for the fact that I’m terrible at learning languages and have very few words and phrases under my belt. But I get around.

Q: Could you please provide us with some cool facts of the week?
-someone wondering if the P.E. teacher is still a chub.

A: I’ll do you one better:

Sad or awesome factoids of the week. You decide:
-During free time, the kids like to play with mini machetes.
-One person in my family of seven has ever been to a supermarket.
-Cabbage is the cash crop.
-The mom enjoys trying to make English jokes with me, and upon doing so, enjoys even more giving me a good, friendly punch to my arm or leg. This has caused me to bruise more than once.
-All of the following English phrases I’ve seen on notebooks and folders:
“Open Funny for friend”
“I’ve never care what tomorrow comes I’ve care just only today that have you.”
“ The most manifest sign of wisdom is continuing cheerfulness./Happyness collection
Spicy”
“Blessings are not counted in gold of dividends, but bythe love we share with
family and friends” (almost touching)
“be happy.. I want you to feel relax as we become friends/Sweeten memos”
“Hello! Catty/Heaven and earth to be together forever with you.”
“So sometime I let you be/Sometimes you let me be/I remember reading a book saying/Whenever you’re in dire strait/of your relationship/If one of them dare to move/back astep/And that would mak the two/go on moving”
-Nothing was mistyped in the above factoids

Q: What’s the deal with electricity? And the internet?
-everyone

A: Even though I’m in a third world country, it’s not as bad as you think. It’s actually a bizarre mix of sub-colonial times and some of the modern world.
There are motorcycles, but the worst roads I’ve ever seen. Some of them are beautifully paved, and then 5 km. along you’ll reach a patch so bad that it’s dangerous to go through the muddy muck. There are ravines dropping right down one side of the road, and jungles going steeply up the other. And traffic congestion in the way of cows and water buffalo. If you’re sitting in the bed of a truck, the mud gets so deep that you can hang your arm over the side and touch it. Wheel alignment is frequently needed I’d guess.
There is electricity, but my family HATES when I have the light on, so much that they’ll ask me to move outside where there’s natural light. If I leave to go to the bathroom, it’s off when I come back. To save money on electricity? I suspect they don’t personally pay it. Besides, the tv is ALWAYS on. What, is tv that much cheaper to pay for? I don’t get it.
There is a mouse-infested “kitchen” where you cook by fire only. When the food cools down, it’s cold forever.
There are luxury bathroom holes for the teachers at the school, but the kids go in the woods. It sort of makes me sad.
As far as the internet goes, well, that’s why I’m rarely on here. I’m actually impressed that the power lines go all the way up here. The fact that internet is here shocks me. I have to borrow my pal’s laptop when he’s not using it, which is very rare, and there’s no guarantee even then that it will work. It’s pretty spotty and often cuts out in

Q: Could you give me an example of a conversation you might have in your home? I’m trying to understand just how much English they know.
-Biobob

A: I can definitely give an example. Janjira, my little sis and the best English speaking student in the village, was talking with me about science yesterday. Here’s what I remember:

Janjira: I be surprised if somebody came up with a scheme for substructure that worked. It would be based on some evidence, but as far as I know right now there isn’t any. You be surprised, would you yes? There are parallels between the leptons and the quarks: very, very strong parallels. Three families in both cases. So it seems likely that if the quarks were someday we, I mean I, no, proved composite, so would be the electron, the neutrino. And there’s certainly yes not evidence for that. So far nothing has pointed in that direction of bistr-no, um, sorry, another layer of constituents underlying the quarks. Nothing points to that. But you can’t rule it out completely, of course. Kat-er-een, you and I know that the present theory, the standard model, is a low-energy approximation of some kind to a future theory, and who knows what will happen with a future theory? But at the moment nothing seems to point to composite quarks or composite leptons.

me: Do you still believe superstring theory is likely to be a profitable approach to making progress in particle physics?

Janjira: It’s promising, yes no? I think yes, it promising, for the same reason. My class not to work on string theory itself, but though I did play a role in the prehistory of string theory. Primary it was thought that string theory and superstring theory might lead to the correct theory of hadrons, strongly interacting particles. Particles that are connected in some way with the nuclear force. But there was a serious problem there, because superstring theory predicted a particle with zero mass, zero rest mass if you want to call it that, and spin 2, a spin of 2 quantum units. Well, it happens to that no such hadron was known and it was pretty clear that there was no good way to fit it in. But then the suggestion was made in our group, and maybe elsewhere as well, that we’d been looking at the theory wrong — it was actually a theory of all the particles and all the forces of nature.

me: But that meant changing the coupling strengths from a strong coupling to the extremely weak coupling of gravity, right?

Janjira: Well yes so to that it meant a factor of 1038 in the scale of my, I mean not my [giggles] theory. The natural scale of the theory had to be altered by a factor of 1038. That’s a very considerable change, you think yes? But doing that, we could interpret the particle of spin 2 and mass zero — it was the graviton, it was the quantum of gravitation, required if we go to having a gravity theory, for example Einstein’s gravity theory, which is the best one so far, and quantum mechanics. So the whole theory was reoriented then, toward being connected at least, with the long-sought unified theory of all the particles and all the forces. Once you or me find the principle, theory is not that far behind. And that principle is in some case a symmetry principle always.

Q: What’s the coolest thing you’ve done so far?
-your boss, if you had one

A: Ah, good one. Well, I think I’m most thrilled when I get to take walks and explore. I took a walk the other day to the nearest village (4km away). It was up and down quite a few “hills” and I’m pretty sure that no white person had ever visited their village. Most people had seen a white person before, but some of the young kids and elders hadn’t, I believe. People literally stopped mid-movement and just stared in shock. Kids stopped playing, people stopped chopping wood…teens drove by and yelled friendly greetings. The walk was wonderful. I know people think I’m crazy, but there’s nothing like exploring on your own. I felt pretty safe, too. I was still near my home turf. I could just stop, look at the most incredible scenery around me, and smile. There was the most gorgeous landscape of rice patties I’ve seen yet, impossibly green and going on and on in waves across the fields, with the mountains as a backdrop. I ate wild passion fruit growing on the side of the road. I saw the most beautiful spiders and bugs in my life. I saw the clouds coming over the mountains looking ominous, but just gently rolling in as dusk set in. I saw the sun set over my village. It was all amazing, and it was just a walk.

Ok people, that’s all for now. I must get going. Big adventure today! Thank you to all who have written, sent things, and offered to help donate towards a college scholarship! I am looking into how to work everything out right now, so it will be a while before I have internet again or can come up with a definite plan. I will eventually, I promise. Sorry for anything spelled wrong…I’m in a rush! I have to start planning my next leg of the journey and leave for my 100km roadtrip today, so until next time, much love!

over and out,
coop