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Laos

Laos

Soontonwattana

Soontonwatana School

Vietnam

Vietnam

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More pictures are up!

Thailand

Thailand

For the second time in a week I find myself trudging through thigh-high liquidy substances. This time its not just water and floating trash though. This time its mud. A lot of mud. And trees. And rocks. And everything that got caught in the mountainside's path after the rain convinced it that it would be more fun to flow into the road then to remain a solidified mountainside. Unfortunately for me, the road it decided to explore was the only way to the Laos- Vietnam border crossing, and I got stuck on the wrong side. So now here I am again, my pants yanked up to my hips and everything I own on this side of the world strapped to my back. Only this time if I slide off the muddy tree trunk I'm balancing on, I don't just fall backwards into the floodwaters of Chaiyaphum. This time, I fall off the mountainside. Oy.

Slurp. Slurp. Ploop. Slurp. Slurp. Ploop.

I'm covered in mud to my butt and my small back pack is dripping in it before I've even gone a yard. One of the many other Laos passagers making the trek to one side of the avalanche or the other takes my small bag for me so I can better balance across the tricky tree trunks ahead. I tighten the straps of my big backpack, inch slowly onto the tree trunk, waver on a slipper patch, glance down to my left at the drop to the valley below and decide to swallow my pride and crawl across the fallen trees instead. My knees are cut to shit and I'm even more caked in mud, but me and my 50 lb bag make it across. As soon as my mud covered self drops down in front of the line of buses backed up on the other side of the slide, every Laos local in sight starts pointing and laughing before showing me down to the river to rinse off. There's not another Westerner in sight- I think there was a memo that I missed, probably something along the lines of "Don't travel through Laos in the rainy season." or "Beware of mud."

I have a small car battery strapped to my chest. Exposed wire leads from the connection points to a small lamp bungeed to my forehead. I hesitantly step into the cool mountain stream and settle onto an old innertube. There is a rope strung from a nearby tree through an opening in the mountain; the opening is little bigger then my tube, from which the cool water I'm sitting in pours. I grab the rope and pull myself through the opening.

The light reflecting through the water gives the inner chambor an emerald glow. Ahead of me, two Finnish boys just out of thier military duty speed forth into the inner cave. I follow, making room from Rob and Mike to make their way through the opening. As we swing deeper and deeper into the cave, the emerald color gives way to the dark. I look nervously down at my car battery, which is now submersed in water, but surprisingly my light holds and I'm not electricuted. The cave is now alive with bouncing lights as we swing our tubes around and around, futher and further into the cave. A beautiful tenor voice echos off the cavern walls in slow mornful-sounding Laos; our guild is singing.

At a small beach of sorts we leave our tubes and continue on foot... or rather hands and knees, as we clamor through the tight passages. The slow drip of water surrounds us. I try not to think about how many future stalactites we're destroying. Our guild shows us how to "play" the stalactites by stricking a broken piece of another stalactite against its hollow sounding brethon.

Oh the things you can't do in the States...

The beginning

I'm standing knee deep in water, all my worldly processions jammed into Dad's big pack and strapped to my back, its substantial weight trying its dammist to pull me backwards. I retie my skirt even further up my thigh, gingerly inch my Jelly-clad foot forward in a search for a stable footing, and step off the curb. Instantly the water level rises to mid-calf. I catch sight of myself in the mirror of a nearby bridal store and laugh; laden with goods, hair in disarray, surrounded my muddy water and floating trash, its definitely not my most attractive moment.

Onwards I trudge, slowly following Cait's determined back though the swollen streets. A middle aged couple playing with a motorized toy boat wave at me as I pass. An old lady and her granddaughter sit curled up on a sidewalk bench, watching floating trash and adventurous neighbors slowly pass their little island. They hail us, asking where we are from. 'America!' Cait yells from across the street, to which a chorus of muttered "oh, America!" from the duo and their relatives, who are now hanging out of the upstairs window, reply, as if that explains everything.

10 minutes later, and I can see my destination ahead. Cait stops on the edge of the unseen curb and we say our goodbyes before she turns around and starts trudging back to the motorbike, which we parked a mile back on (relatively) higher ground. Its a sad but not teary farewell, for though we have no specific plans, we both know in our gut we'll see each other again. (cheers Cait!)

I stand on the curb for a minute, taking in the scene, before stepping off again into what in drier times functions as a roundabout. Up ahead what looks like an upside down tin roof comes floating around the corner, pushed by a gangle of dirty teenage boys. A pregnant women clad in white stands demurely in the middle. The boys call out as they pass; the women smiles slyly, hand resting on her belly. I wave as I turn into the higher and drier bus station grounds.

Goodbye Chaiyaphum.

A week of goodbyes

I've been saying goodbye to all of my classes this week, taking pictures, giving candy, playing games, and wrapping up loose ends. In general, it has been sad but not overwhelming; most likely my emotional delay kicking in. I just finished with a class that somehow really got through; made me truly sad. The calss, 5.6, is usually one of my more intense classes; great kids, smart, but very in-your-face. Invariably, I will explain a worksheet, they all say they understand, I ask them again just to make sure, they again confirm they know what's going on, usually in a " yeah, of course" tone of voice, then I pass out the worksheet and am almost instantly bombarded with individual questions "teacher! TEACHER!". Very frustrating. But, as I said, the kids really are great. I didn't tell them I was leaving until the very end of class, which was a bit chaotic but once the idea got across they got very sad. I think the best way for me to describe this class is to describe a few of the kids in it.



Mintra: I didn't like Mintra particularly at first, she's a bit abbrasive when you first meet her, but as I got to know her I realized that was just her way of saying she likes you. She's very honest, and seems like she'd be one of those girls who keeps friends forever, very loyal, a girl you'd want on your side.

Ratchatawan: Ratchatawan is one of my favorites. Every class has a class head who wears aroudn an armband and is supposed to help keep the class in line, but the reality varies a lot between classes. Ratchatawan is head of her class, and she's a great leader; quiet, helpful but not overly so (multiple of my students can get a little bit power happy), smart. Leads by example. For instance, she is one of 2 students (of my 850 students) who, on seporate occasions, sought me out to ask for a worksheet she missed. Huge! Especially considering on most days I'm lucky if I get 2/3s of the worksheets I had out back at the end of the class. At the end of clas today, she came up behind me and gave me a long hug; hugging is not all that common in Thailand, and I was touched.

Jiletchey: Jiletchey is a huge part of my experience with this calss, as he always takes his worksheet up to my desk and camps out there to work, asking me almost literally a question a minute. It can be frustrating, as it adds to the chaos and makes a bit of a blokage around my desk, but he is so honestly kindhearted about it you can be mad for long. Though all the kids usually leave as fast as possible for lunch after class, he stayed late to draw me a goodbye picture, and say goodbye at least 6 times.

Alisa: For the first 3 months of class, I always knew her as the glasses girl; for her big coke-cottle specks. She's smart, but quiet, one of those kids that you can tell is going to grow into herself someday soon and pop out fo her shell as an amazing person.

pictures

I'm slowly uploading pictures, so... here is the link to the pictures from one of the flooding days, courtesy of Mia's camera phone

http://picasaweb.google.com/carissadilley/SoontonwatanaSchool?authkey=YXqqK8Z9OAM#