Agong

Agong was my Grandfather while I was an exchange student. As a Chinese businessman, he’d set up the family shop and still greeted salesmen with a smile and authority.

I rarely spoke to my Agong. Sometimes, I’d be asked to sit at his desk, where we’d hardly talk – just be together. He’d grin at me. He’d pat my head. He’d buy me an ice-cream when he bought his other grandchildren one.

Agong was proud of me. He didn’t tell me – I just know. I felt it and I loved him in return.

He died last year. He’d told his family when it would happen and - surprising no one, he was right.

The Chinese say you should not be too sad when someone dies. That would mean that you did not think that they had lived a good life.

Loong Sird

Loong Sird was awesome. This man was my uncle while I was in Thailand. He reminded me of Dad and enjoyed stirring me. Each afternoon, I'd return home and know whether I had mail by watching his face. A cheeky grin meant that there was mail, but, I'd have to search the shop to find where he'd hidden it!

Vendors would regularly stumble past the shop, laden down with their loaded baskets. The baskets hung from a pole, which they balanced on their shoulders. These basket contained unpredictable and widely varied foods. Whenever Loong Sird saw one of these vendors approaching, he'd grin at me. I'd know I'd have to sample one of the delicacies. Silkworms, crickets, all manner of bugs... He'd make me eat one.

Before trying a new fruit or more commonly eaten food, Loong Sird would often try to trick me. He'd convincingly tell me that a fruit was so sweet and I'd bite into the sourest berry imaginable. That was Loong Sird. I loved him and was grateful to have such an amazing and fun uncle, whoquickly saw the real me.

But wait... there's more!

There were several other opportunities for me to learn the graceful skills of Thai dance. We spent several afternoons in this school room, learning this dance. My host sister is closest to the front. The lady on the floor, clapping is the dance teacher. She was wonderful. After we had learned the dance, we dressed up and perormed in front of a large gathering of people. I was doing ok - keeping up and everything.... and then I noticed someone move to the front and aim a video camera at me. I became flustered and self-consious... and then - my candle blew out and everything fell apart. Hopefully, I was good enough that not too many people noticed!

Here's the hair do - it took hours to get it up in this style and days to get the knots out again!

Check out the make up in the last photo! I remember that after myfirst experience, I insisited that the make-up be reduced to one thick coating. (See picture above!) I also insisted that red was not a great colour on me. I learned this after giving them free range over me for the first dance (see picture below!)

Evidence

I can't believe that I am actually posting these photographs! I have talked myself into it, knowing that the Hairy Cow's audience is a small and trusted group - who have mostly seen these pictures anyway!

Here goes...

This is Jillian. She's Canadian - and the people at our school had great difficulty telling us apart! For the briefest blip in my life, Jillian was the most stable and trusted person in my life. She was my support and my strength. She was my happiness. Together, we had the strength to survive all that was strange and new. I have not known where she is for over 15 years.

There were many people who loved dressing the foreign girls up, caking us with make-up and teasing our hair. We always felt over-sized and awkward in the Thai Dance clothes.

Here we are, posing at school - ready to dance (hair happily not teased!).

Here I am, leading the Year 11 girls around my town's streets...

I can't remember what dance this is....

I am pretty sure that the guys are digging for those pesky crabs and us girls, well... we are probably lifting up the basketful of crabs in celebration of a great catch! Do you notice the looks of joy on everyone's face... I can't remember, but lets say that we danced like this for at least an hour! see... elegant - not so much. sweaty - definitely!

Thai Dance

Graceful...

Elegant...

Poised...

Me performing Thai Dance –

Slimy with sweat...

elephant-like movements...

Uncoordinated...

After four months in Thailand, the school was preparing for a dancing parade. Over 120 Year 11 students would dance through the streets of my little Thai town. Each day at school, the student would line up and rehearse their dance. Being an uncoordinated foreigner, with no connections to the Year 11 students, I was hardly surprised when they made me dance, too... Right at the start of the parade!

There I was, sweat pouring from my make-up packed face, hair frizzed, knotted and teased beyond all recognition - dancing. We danced our way down all the streets. A microphone wilding man enjoyed screaming out to the audience that a foreigner was leading their parade. With every eye on me, I pretended to know the dances well. Whenever I was in doubt about the steps – I smiled and they clapped. I have long since forgotten the dance, but vaguely remember something about pulling mud crabs from a woven net. Half way through one of the dances, a local village lady rushed towards me. She had betel nut stained teeth and a crooked smile. Mid dance, she thrust a baby into my arms. Feeling a little bewildered, I smiled and posed for her photographs. Handing back the baby, I was handed a tissue – to wipe the rivers of sweat from my face. This done, I went back to dancing.

Lost In Translation #2

While relations with my host mother were already strained to breaking point, I accidently said something very insulting about her. In Thailand, saving face is the ever-sought after option. I’d made her lose face. I was beginning to speak and understand Thai. And yet... I still found myself becoming lost during conversations with my host mother. Finally, and with considerate relief, I learned that she usually spoke the local dialect – the North Eastern language, or Laos. I couldn’t understand her because she wasn’t speaking Thai!

I mentioned to someone that my “mother speaks Laos”. What I had actually said was that the woman spoke like a crazy person. By the time I was advised of my mistake, I was feeling pretty guilty. Finally, one of my host mother’s friends told me what I had really said. Without thinking, I said “I know”. This was taken as me knowing what I had said when I said it.... meaning to suggest that my host mother spoke like a crazy person. My words had thrown me into a downward spiral.... My foot was firmly embedded in my mouth and no amount of digging was going to get me out of my comments.

Already strained relationships stretched and pulled even further. I don’t think my host mother and I ever understood each other. We certainly never developed a positive rapport and my time with her was never pleasant. To this day, I feel certain that the family only hosted a foreigner to place themselves in higher esteem within the community. I was their token charity case. My pale skin, light eyes and “Australianess” gave them credit. The fact that the whole community knew of me, spoke of me and pointed me out gave them the attention they greedily desired. By the time the novelty of the exchange student wore off, the community were talking about me too much and my host sister become desperately jealous and vindictive. No one has treated me as poorly as my host sister did. My head shakes in wonder at how my young self lived through her constant torments. Was it inner strength or was I verging too much on naivety? Perhaps I was stubborn enough not to let her ruin my time in Thailand – though at times, she went very close!

Lost in Translation #1

While my understanding of Buddhism was just developing, it was firmly embedded in my mind that touching monks was bad.

Females just didn’t make contact with monks!

Males pass anything over to a monk. When no males are around, females have to place objects for the monk on a silver tray, which sits on the floor. The monk then picks up the object. As a female, you just don’t’ touch the monks.

If you are moving house, only males carry the Buddha Statues to the removalist truck. Females don't even touch the statues.

You can understand then, that I was stunned when a Thai man approached me with a most unusual question.

“Do you kiss the monk?”

My mind spun... my eyes goggled and I was left choking on an answer. “No! I don’t kiss the monks.” After much confused conversation, we finally understood each other. My reputation remained unsoiled as recognition washed over me. “Yes, I am a Christian.”

In Thai, Christianity is shortened to “Chrissed”. The man had asked me whether I was a Christian. Even though I was developing an understanding of the language, many things still got lost in the translation.

New Country = New Food

Within my first week as an exchange student I’d eaten congealed blood.

From my diary – “Ate blood for breakfast – it was ok, until I found out what it was! I made a silent promise to avoid it in the future!”

It’s a jelly-like consistency... a purple-brown colour...The texture is soft and squishy – a little like tofu.

Apparently, it is full of goodness, but the churning of my stomach at the thought of eating it prevented me from absorbing any more of the “goodness”. Mai aroy!

A Whole new Alphabet

After my first month as an exchange student, I was unbelievably excited to be conversing in English. I was at an English Camp with a group of other exchange students.

It’s almost impossible to imagine not knowing the local language of a country. At 16, I was unable to watch TV and understand it. Radio and newspapers were beyond me. I couldn’t read a comic book. I couldn’t even speak! My two year old cousin was more advanced than me. He used words far beyond my vocabulary. I could barely stumble through "Hello. How are you?"

Time passes so slowly when you cannot interact with anyone.

Over time, as boredom settled over me, as Thai life became routine and mundane, I taught myself to read and write Thai.

Giggles followed me as I studied my Thai alphabet. Kindergarten students were learning what I was.

Giggles became smiles as I started recognising letters of the Thai alphabet.

Smiles became grins as I started reading words.

Smiles widen with pride as my Thai family listened while I read sentences from the newspaper. Menus were now given to me to read and I was asked what I would like to order. Cartoon books filled in endless afternoons as I studied theThai language.

I was on my way! I was reading Thai!

An old friend

I just met up with a girl from my past. She stunned me with her courage, her bravery, wisdom and strength.

She revealed so much in just a few words and my heart jolted and jumped as she told me her story.

At 16, she’d left everything she’d known. She threw herself into a new and strange world. Like a chameleon, she changed and adapted herself to better blend into her new life.

Blending wasn’t easy. Living amongst the petite members of her new community, she was like a giant, stumbling and tripping her way across a cultural divide.

Words and language became uncertain. She could no longer rely on them. So many things were new and challenging and could only be learned through observation and imitation.

How tired she felt, riding the rollercoaster. She danced in the extreme highs and almost drowned in the bottomless lows. Time flew and yet she counted the months, the weeks, the days, the minutes, the seconds. How much longer?!

Some of the people she met still bring an effortless smile to her much older face.

Some of the people she met still make her cringe and shudder.

Though the things she did feel like a lifetime ago, so many of them remain firmly embedded in her memory. They echo the changes in her. Their impact left an influence so strong that she’s only now beginning to realise its depths.

She’s me. She’s my 16 year old self, stumbling off a jet plane and being thrown into the throngs of a complicated Thai family.

My first thoughts of Thailand were of the orange coloured sky, the strange smell and the heavy heat. Anyone landing in Thailand now would think these same thoughts.

In future blogs, I will share some of the stories my year as an exchange student in the North East of Thailand.