Life on Phuket is a combination of teaching, learning, and playing. Monday through Friday, I teach. On the weekends, I play on one of the many beautiful beaches of Phuket. And every day of the week, I am learning. According to an old adage, “you learn something new every day.” But for this particular episode of my life, I find this adage to be a gross understatement. In truth, every day seems to bring a brand new book of knowledge.
Faren and I have absolutely been noticing the benefits of living and working in
a foreign country rather than being another tourist or backpacker. First of all, we have a lot more interactions with a broad range of Thai people in their normal routine of work and play. I am in constant interaction with Thai teachers and Thai students. We have ventured into popular Thai hang-out spots, surrendering to conspicuous stares and a night reduced to socializing in (very) broken English. We have discovered the cheapest places to buy produce, and by now, the vendors know to give us the Thai price as opposed to the inflated farrang price. I’ve noticed that the more I frequent a certain fruit or vegetable stand, the more likely the vendor is to throw in basil or another mango at no extra charge.
When we first arrived in Phuket Town, we could barely walk one block without Thai men shouting at us “where you from?” “hello!” “where do you go?” “tuk-tuk?” or “taxi?” After a few weeks, they began to realize we were not the average farrang tourist, we were here to stay. So, most of the “where you from?” and “wh
ere do you go?” slowly subsided. We have become just another facet in our neighborhood—like the old women wrapped in sarongs who people-watch all day long, the overheated dogs and cats sprawled out on the sidewalk, the group of old men playing cards, the children on their bicycles—and the stares have lessened. In the more touristy areas of town, we are always offered a tuk-tuk or taxi, but not at the same frequency as just a few weeks ago.
One reason why our neighbors have become accustomed to me and Faren is because we insist on walking just about everywhere in town. I walk to and from my school, which takes me about 45 minutes. One day, during a particularly l
ong walk home (my “shortcuts” led me into winding back roads), I came upon a realization. Since I walk, I see at least a hundred times more of the town and its culture. You miss so much when you are speeding by on a motorbike. Thai towns are not like neat, organized Western cities that are perfectly mapped-out and separated into commercialized areas and residential neighborhoods. Not at all. Everything is squished together as much as is humanly possible. No map is comprehensive, which does not matter as Thai people never use maps. Sidewalks are a luxury. Giant holes in the ground are the norm. People serve food from their living rooms. Shop-owners eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner behind the counter, in between transactions. The kids watch TV while the parents cut hair. And as a pedestrian, you get to see all of this. Now, on my walk to school, I recognize the man reading t
he newspaper in his tiny restaurant and the police officer who helps the school children cross the street. Street vendors greet me with a smile. Motortaxi drivers shout hello as I walk past—most of the regulars have learned that I don’t want a ride. I even witness the morning prayers of Thais who have fallen to their knees on the pavement as they are blessed by Buddhist Monks dressed in deep orange robes. It’s always the same faces, the same dogs, the same crooked sidewalks that become an obstacle course for me. Everyday. A lot of people—both farrang and Thai—think I am slightly crazy, weird, or both because I walk such a long distance to and from school. They must not know what I am seeing and what they are missing. 
Lucy Meets the Governor
I arrived at school one Monday morning to be informed that I, along with four other teachers from the Multi-Language Program, was scheduled to meet the Governor of the Phuket province. It is not unusual for the school to interrupt classes with something or another—whether it is by taking the teacher away to meet an important official or pulling students out for sports day practice, “soldier” (boys only, and I really know no details), boy scouts, girl scouts, English-speaking competitions, or to fulfill some other special duty. So, I was not surprised by this sudden change in my day. However, I WAS surprised that they were taking us to meet the Governor of the province, and not an official from the Department of Education, or something like this.
At 9 am, the director of the school, the teachers, and several school administrators (or maybe they were just Thai teachers, I’m not really sure) loaded into a giant van that took us to the Governor’s office. The five teachers included an Australian, a Phillipine, two Chinese, and myself. They filed all of us, including the administrators, into the Governor’s office. There was the usual wai’s (the Thai greeting, you put your palms together in a praying position in front of your face and bow your head) and sa wa dee’s (hello! in Thai). We were all herded into the office and seated on pale yellow couches and chairs in the large, fancy room. The Director of the school and the Governor proceeded to converse about the program, the teachers, the students, and who knows what else. She showed him some photographs and introduced every foreign teacher. Needless to say, these activities all took place in Thai. It was easy to discern when the Director was talking about me or one of the other teachers, and sometimes the Governor would pause and ask us questions in English. As we were leaving, we took a big group picture with the Governor—I really need to find the Thai person who took that photo so I can get a copy! Simeon (the Phillipino), Peta (the Australian), and I couldn’t resist but run back into the Governor’s office after the group had exited, and ask him for his signature. Surprisingly, this was Simeon’s idea, but Peta and I were equally enthusiastic. I’m not sure if an autograph is something on which the Thai’s place any value, but we are “farrang,” which automatically gives us an excuse for our strange requests. In any event, the Governor was happy to oblige us and seemed pretty flattered, and even the Director gave us a big smile and a thumbs up.
Teacher Day
One of the neatest cultural experiences I have had at my school was Teacher Day, which took place on June 14th. I was unsure of what to expect, except for that I would receive a lot of flowers. All of the students and teachers gathered in the assembly hall.
The assembly hall is light, open, and airy, with incredibly high ceilings. The stage at the front of the great room more or less resembles an alter. The largest object is a giant statue of the ‘Princess mother,’ since Chalermprakiat School was funded and donated to Phuket by the Princess’s mother. (I am not really sure what this means, or why she is called the Princess’s mother rather than the King’s mother. The Thai’s do not know either.) A mass of flowers sits before the statue, and to the left is a smaller statue of Buddha, with additional offerings of flowers sitting at his feet. The stage is also adorned with the Thai national flag, other flags whose significance remains a mystery to me, and of course, a picture of the His Majesty, the King.
For the Teacher Day ceremony, a small band of students in the back of the hall played music on various nontraditional instruments that appeared to be made of bamboo. Whatever they were, the music sounded beautiful.
Two rows of chairs for the teachers were arranged in front of the stage, facing the students who were seated on the ground. A black leather couch was situated in the middle of the front row of chairs, where the Director of the school sat, along with three other individuals. Every child grasped a small bouquet of flowers and various objects—roses and carnations, along with incense and candles. Some held larger and carefully crafted arrangements. The ceremony began with talking, praying, and a lot of singing. An older female student led the entire student body in a few pretty tunes. I only wish I could have understood the meaning behind these songs. For all I know, they could be about Buddha, the school, the King, or the country.
The first students who lined up for the flower procession were those with the more elaborate flower arrangements. Two by two (one boy, one girl),
they approached the Director and the other adults on the black leather couch. When they were about 10 feet in front of the couch, they dropped to their knees and walked on their knees the remaining distance to the couch. First, they put their flower arrangements aside and wai’d until the
ir heads were nearly touching the ground. The people on the couch wai’d in return. Then, they handed one bouquet to the Director and one to the woman on her right, and wai’d again. Their wai was returned once again. The flower arrangement was passed to the left and placed upon a table. The next two students stepped forward and repeated the process. This continued for at least a half hour.
Next, the students with the smaller bouquets approached the two rows of teachers (where I was seated) and repeated a similar procedure, walking on
their knees, wai-ing to the teachers in unison, and presenting flowers. The ritual concluded with a speech by the Director and special presents awarded to a few students who had won an essay contest on the subject of teachers. I was quite curious about what the Director was saying, as she was talking for quite a while. But my questions were dismissed by my Thai counterparts with a few words of broken English. All I could glean is that she was reiterating a speech the King had recently made regarding education.
Faren and I have absolutely been noticing the benefits of living and working in
a foreign country rather than being another tourist or backpacker. First of all, we have a lot more interactions with a broad range of Thai people in their normal routine of work and play. I am in constant interaction with Thai teachers and Thai students. We have ventured into popular Thai hang-out spots, surrendering to conspicuous stares and a night reduced to socializing in (very) broken English. We have discovered the cheapest places to buy produce, and by now, the vendors know to give us the Thai price as opposed to the inflated farrang price. I’ve noticed that the more I frequent a certain fruit or vegetable stand, the more likely the vendor is to throw in basil or another mango at no extra charge.When we first arrived in Phuket Town, we could barely walk one block without Thai men shouting at us “where you from?” “hello!” “where do you go?” “tuk-tuk?” or “taxi?” After a few weeks, they began to realize we were not the average farrang tourist, we were here to stay. So, most of the “where you from?” and “wh
ere do you go?” slowly subsided. We have become just another facet in our neighborhood—like the old women wrapped in sarongs who people-watch all day long, the overheated dogs and cats sprawled out on the sidewalk, the group of old men playing cards, the children on their bicycles—and the stares have lessened. In the more touristy areas of town, we are always offered a tuk-tuk or taxi, but not at the same frequency as just a few weeks ago.One reason why our neighbors have become accustomed to me and Faren is because we insist on walking just about everywhere in town. I walk to and from my school, which takes me about 45 minutes. One day, during a particularly l
ong walk home (my “shortcuts” led me into winding back roads), I came upon a realization. Since I walk, I see at least a hundred times more of the town and its culture. You miss so much when you are speeding by on a motorbike. Thai towns are not like neat, organized Western cities that are perfectly mapped-out and separated into commercialized areas and residential neighborhoods. Not at all. Everything is squished together as much as is humanly possible. No map is comprehensive, which does not matter as Thai people never use maps. Sidewalks are a luxury. Giant holes in the ground are the norm. People serve food from their living rooms. Shop-owners eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner behind the counter, in between transactions. The kids watch TV while the parents cut hair. And as a pedestrian, you get to see all of this. Now, on my walk to school, I recognize the man reading t
he newspaper in his tiny restaurant and the police officer who helps the school children cross the street. Street vendors greet me with a smile. Motortaxi drivers shout hello as I walk past—most of the regulars have learned that I don’t want a ride. I even witness the morning prayers of Thais who have fallen to their knees on the pavement as they are blessed by Buddhist Monks dressed in deep orange robes. It’s always the same faces, the same dogs, the same crooked sidewalks that become an obstacle course for me. Everyday. A lot of people—both farrang and Thai—think I am slightly crazy, weird, or both because I walk such a long distance to and from school. They must not know what I am seeing and what they are missing. Lucy Meets the Governor
I arrived at school one Monday morning to be informed that I, along with four other teachers from the Multi-Language Program, was scheduled to meet the Governor of the Phuket province. It is not unusual for the school to interrupt classes with something or another—whether it is by taking the teacher away to meet an important official or pulling students out for sports day practice, “soldier” (boys only, and I really know no details), boy scouts, girl scouts, English-speaking competitions, or to fulfill some other special duty. So, I was not surprised by this sudden change in my day. However, I WAS surprised that they were taking us to meet the Governor of the province, and not an official from the Department of Education, or something like this.
At 9 am, the director of the school, the teachers, and several school administrators (or maybe they were just Thai teachers, I’m not really sure) loaded into a giant van that took us to the Governor’s office. The five teachers included an Australian, a Phillipine, two Chinese, and myself. They filed all of us, including the administrators, into the Governor’s office. There was the usual wai’s (the Thai greeting, you put your palms together in a praying position in front of your face and bow your head) and sa wa dee’s (hello! in Thai). We were all herded into the office and seated on pale yellow couches and chairs in the large, fancy room. The Director of the school and the Governor proceeded to converse about the program, the teachers, the students, and who knows what else. She showed him some photographs and introduced every foreign teacher. Needless to say, these activities all took place in Thai. It was easy to discern when the Director was talking about me or one of the other teachers, and sometimes the Governor would pause and ask us questions in English. As we were leaving, we took a big group picture with the Governor—I really need to find the Thai person who took that photo so I can get a copy! Simeon (the Phillipino), Peta (the Australian), and I couldn’t resist but run back into the Governor’s office after the group had exited, and ask him for his signature. Surprisingly, this was Simeon’s idea, but Peta and I were equally enthusiastic. I’m not sure if an autograph is something on which the Thai’s place any value, but we are “farrang,” which automatically gives us an excuse for our strange requests. In any event, the Governor was happy to oblige us and seemed pretty flattered, and even the Director gave us a big smile and a thumbs up.
Teacher Day
One of the neatest cultural experiences I have had at my school was Teacher Day, which took place on June 14th. I was unsure of what to expect, except for that I would receive a lot of flowers. All of the students and teachers gathered in the assembly hall.
The assembly hall is light, open, and airy, with incredibly high ceilings. The stage at the front of the great room more or less resembles an alter. The largest object is a giant statue of the ‘Princess mother,’ since Chalermprakiat School was funded and donated to Phuket by the Princess’s mother. (I am not really sure what this means, or why she is called the Princess’s mother rather than the King’s mother. The Thai’s do not know either.) A mass of flowers sits before the statue, and to the left is a smaller statue of Buddha, with additional offerings of flowers sitting at his feet. The stage is also adorned with the Thai national flag, other flags whose significance remains a mystery to me, and of course, a picture of the His Majesty, the King.For the Teacher Day ceremony, a small band of students in the back of the hall played music on various nontraditional instruments that appeared to be made of bamboo. Whatever they were, the music sounded beautiful.
Two rows of chairs for the teachers were arranged in front of the stage, facing the students who were seated on the ground. A black leather couch was situated in the middle of the front row of chairs, where the Director of the school sat, along with three other individuals. Every child grasped a small bouquet of flowers and various objects—roses and carnations, along with incense and candles. Some held larger and carefully crafted arrangements. The ceremony began with talking, praying, and a lot of singing. An older female student led the entire student body in a few pretty tunes. I only wish I could have understood the meaning behind these songs. For all I know, they could be about Buddha, the school, the King, or the country.The first students who lined up for the flower procession were those with the more elaborate flower arrangements. Two by two (one boy, one girl),
they approached the Director and the other adults on the black leather couch. When they were about 10 feet in front of the couch, they dropped to their knees and walked on their knees the remaining distance to the couch. First, they put their flower arrangements aside and wai’d until the
ir heads were nearly touching the ground. The people on the couch wai’d in return. Then, they handed one bouquet to the Director and one to the woman on her right, and wai’d again. Their wai was returned once again. The flower arrangement was passed to the left and placed upon a table. The next two students stepped forward and repeated the process. This continued for at least a half hour.Next, the students with the smaller bouquets approached the two rows of teachers (where I was seated) and repeated a similar procedure, walking on
their knees, wai-ing to the teachers in unison, and presenting flowers. The ritual concluded with a speech by the Director and special presents awarded to a few students who had won an essay contest on the subject of teachers. I was quite curious about what the Director was saying, as she was talking for quite a while. But my questions were dismissed by my Thai counterparts with a few words of broken English. All I could glean is that she was reiterating a speech the King had recently made regarding education. 
And if you are wondering about what happened to all of the flowers—as much as I wanted to beautify my desk with an obscene amount of flowers—most of them were offered to Buddha.
New Passions and Discoveries
Alternative (particularly naturopathic) medicine is one of those things in which I have been very interested for a while, without knowing much about the subject. While in Thailand, I have devoured any book or booklet that I can get my hands on regarding alternative, naturopathic, and homeopathic medicines and holistic healing. As I acquire more knowledge on these subjects, the hungrier I am to learn more and more. All of the ideas and theories make so much sense, and continue to increasingly add up as I persist in my studies.
In a nutshell, naturopathic medicine offers solutions to the root of health problems, rather than simply treating the symptoms. The cause must be eradicated in order for the body to be truly healed. The origin of illness can be mental, emotional, physical, or spiritual. Of course, naturopathy is also heavily invested in the conviction that nature holds powerful healing powers and that our bodies have the capacity to be self-healing. It operates using the holistic method, which exists under the belief that treatment for health problems must reach beyond immediate symptoms and treat the entire body, spirit, and mind. The naturopathic physician is expected to educate their patients how to take responsibility for their own health, and encourage them to do so. The fundamental purpose of naturopathic medicine is prevention. Accordingly, “the emphasis is on building health, not fighting illness,” which can be accomplished by developing healthy lifestyles, relationships, and beliefs.
Faren, in her quest to recover better health, has recently visited a holistic healing center focused on detoxification and cleansing by the name of Atsumi Healing Center. She stayed for about 5 days, but found that she was not quite ready for the intensity of that program. After I have finished teaching on Phuket, we plan to visit a center on either the island of Koh Phangan or Koh Samui where there are a few reputable programs, aptly given names such as The Health Oasis and The Sanctuary. Our hope is that we will complete a program, and possibly stay on at the resort for longer in order to learn as much as we can about holistic healing and alternative medicine. Ideally, we could become “interns” and contribute to the center in some way, whether it be through teaching Salsa lessons, French lessons, English lessons, gardening, or even doing dishes.
Meanwhile, we are focused on cleansing our bodies as much as possible so we have begun to prepare all of our own food, we have stopped eating meat, we have abstained from alcohol, sugars, coffee, and all processed foods—and additionally, we are practicing a lot of positive thinking. Some of these changes are likely not intended to be permanent (except for positive thinking!), but since I have learned the detrimental effects these substances have on your health, I find them less desirable and more difficult to ingest.
Increasingly, I have been contemplating the idea of studying naturopathic medicine at a University. I do enjoy self-study immensely, but I also understand the limitations—one can only gain so much from reading a book, and there is so much to learn. Perhaps I may even find my calling and become a naturopathic doctor. So, this is yet another dream of mine and another idea in my arsenal of future plans. Maybe it will remain only a thought in my consciousness. Or maybe not…
New Passions and Discoveries
Alternative (particularly naturopathic) medicine is one of those things in which I have been very interested for a while, without knowing much about the subject. While in Thailand, I have devoured any book or booklet that I can get my hands on regarding alternative, naturopathic, and homeopathic medicines and holistic healing. As I acquire more knowledge on these subjects, the hungrier I am to learn more and more. All of the ideas and theories make so much sense, and continue to increasingly add up as I persist in my studies.
In a nutshell, naturopathic medicine offers solutions to the root of health problems, rather than simply treating the symptoms. The cause must be eradicated in order for the body to be truly healed. The origin of illness can be mental, emotional, physical, or spiritual. Of course, naturopathy is also heavily invested in the conviction that nature holds powerful healing powers and that our bodies have the capacity to be self-healing. It operates using the holistic method, which exists under the belief that treatment for health problems must reach beyond immediate symptoms and treat the entire body, spirit, and mind. The naturopathic physician is expected to educate their patients how to take responsibility for their own health, and encourage them to do so. The fundamental purpose of naturopathic medicine is prevention. Accordingly, “the emphasis is on building health, not fighting illness,” which can be accomplished by developing healthy lifestyles, relationships, and beliefs.
Faren, in her quest to recover better health, has recently visited a holistic healing center focused on detoxification and cleansing by the name of Atsumi Healing Center. She stayed for about 5 days, but found that she was not quite ready for the intensity of that program. After I have finished teaching on Phuket, we plan to visit a center on either the island of Koh Phangan or Koh Samui where there are a few reputable programs, aptly given names such as The Health Oasis and The Sanctuary. Our hope is that we will complete a program, and possibly stay on at the resort for longer in order to learn as much as we can about holistic healing and alternative medicine. Ideally, we could become “interns” and contribute to the center in some way, whether it be through teaching Salsa lessons, French lessons, English lessons, gardening, or even doing dishes.
Meanwhile, we are focused on cleansing our bodies as much as possible so we have begun to prepare all of our own food, we have stopped eating meat, we have abstained from alcohol, sugars, coffee, and all processed foods—and additionally, we are practicing a lot of positive thinking. Some of these changes are likely not intended to be permanent (except for positive thinking!), but since I have learned the detrimental effects these substances have on your health, I find them less desirable and more difficult to ingest.
Increasingly, I have been contemplating the idea of studying naturopathic medicine at a University. I do enjoy self-study immensely, but I also understand the limitations—one can only gain so much from reading a book, and there is so much to learn. Perhaps I may even find my calling and become a naturopathic doctor. So, this is yet another dream of mine and another idea in my arsenal of future plans. Maybe it will remain only a thought in my consciousness. Or maybe not…
1 comment:
Hi Lucy,
I'm so happy about your learning adventures! That must have been exciting to meet the governor. Maybe if you find a good healing center there, I could bring dad over for some education on healthy living... lovemom
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