Thailand is a baaad boy

I wrote this first part a few weeks ago.

I’m currently on a four-night field trip to Chiang Mai. It’s my first overnight field trip since I started teaching 19 years ago. So far so good! The kids are great. They remind me of some of the best parts about being a teacher: nurturing, guiding, and getting to watch them grow into themselves. 

We had a couple hours of free time this afternoon. I debated on taking a nap, such an indulgence as a mother, but decided to go get a massage instead. I didn’t have to walk more than half a block from our hotel before I found a place. Massage parlors (I hate the word “parlor”) are as ubiquitous in Thailand as stray dogs. I’ve been to enough at this point that I know what to expect from the good places and the cheap places. This was the latter, but I’m not picky. Thai massages are almost like physical therapy. They pop and crack me and stretch out my running gear, like that tendon that runs along the outside of the knee—is it the iliotibial band? And the spot where my quadriceps attach to my hip bones, which have been sore lately. 

Anyhoo—so I went in, asked for a Thai massage, and followed the woman upstairs. I was in my usual state, distracted and tightly-wound, so I barely noticed the masseuse. She was tiny, which rarely makes for a good massage. Tiny women have sharp angles and don’t have enough body mass for a good strong massage, so they just poke you with their stabby joints. Also, the clothes she gave me to change into (standard for Thai massage) were made of real silk, which I thought was odd for such a low-budget operation. 

I was fully ten minutes into the massage before I realized that she was wearing a schoolgirl uniform. I’m laughing now as I type this. I mentally smacked my head and thought, oh dear, am I going to get a little surprise with this massage? Is that even a thing with women customers? Fortunately, my little (thirty-something) schoolgirl stayed chaste. As I was leaving, I noticed another masseuse wearing a short red kimono. Ai yi yi. I don’t think I’ll be sending any of the students down that way…

Yesterday we went to an elephant sanctuary (Lampang, a different one from the video—there are dozens of them up here). I am falling in love with those animals. At one point, they were walking in a line up the road, and I felt myself getting teary because they’re so beautiful and gentle. This weeping-beauty phenomenon has been happening more often as I get older. Touring some ancient temples today, I felt it again. Their beauty was just unspeakable. This is, without a doubt, the most beautiful place I have ever lived.

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Okay, now it’s several weeks later. Teaching four different classes is kicking my ass. It’s challenging in a good way, but it reminds me of my first year teaching. I have homework every night. The energy it takes to switch gears so thoroughly from, say, teaching about moon phases one class, to conducting a lab on natural selection the next hour, then moving on to reproductive anatomy… and giving it 100% in every class… I can’t believe I pull it off every day. It’s intense, and I go through brief cycles of burnout. 

Fortunately, we’re in Thailand. I just planned our April vacation. We’ll be going to an island with white sand beaches for five days, with a little time in Bangkok on either end. Total cost of the trip, all hotels and airfare/boats/buses, for all four of us? About $1100. Now that’s how you combat burnout! I can absolutely work this hard if I can see a beach more often than once a decade.

Some thoughts as of late:

On the aforementioned school trip, I had a long conversation with a fellow teacher who has been here for about a decade. We discussed the remoteness of Chiang Rai. I said if I was really famous, I’d love it here because it’s a nice dark corner of the world in which to hide. But as I said it I realized… it’s a dark corner of the world in which to hide. Now that we’ve been here 7 months, we’ve scratched the surface a little. I’ve heard stories of mafia bosses. We know one or two people with questionable stories that don’t add up (disclaimer: none are FB friends, so it’s probably not you). We’ve seen and heard many cases of ethically dubious financial activity. We don’t ask questions. There’s a movie, “Lord of War,” about a shady arms dealer who spent some time hiding out here in Thailand (that part isn’t in the movie though). One of our friends once played poker with a sketchy guy down in Bangkok… who turned out to be Joran Van Der Sloot. We went to a wine tasting recently. The room was full of local expats (nobody we work with), all of whom looked like… well, like Table 9 from The Wedding Singer. An interesting and diverse assortment, to put it nicely. We can’t help but wonder how they ended up here. What do they do for work? It’s not Bangkok, or even Chiang Mai, the obvious choices. I am not lumping sociopaths in with the merely physically odd and socially awkward. But, you know.

It’s a dark corner of the world. Great hiding place.

That said…

I have a crush on Thailand. It’s a whirlwind romance. It takes my breath away and makes me miss it when I haven’t even left yet. I swoon over its exotic green beauty, and make excuses for the dodgy bits. It quickens my pulse and makes me feel more alive than I’ve felt in years. It hasn’t always treated us well, considering how we’re getting way overcharged on rent and were talked into buying that awful car (screwed both times by westerners, it’s worth noting), and we forgive it. It’s a crush. But like anything fast and hard, it’s not meant for the long haul. It’s Mr. Right Now, and it’s exciting and fun like a gorgeous but damaged bad boy with a motorcycle.

Hey. Forget about your responsibilities and your pension back home. Run away with me. I'm sweaty and beautiful, dirty and mysterious. Sometimes I smell like hot spoiled fish and sewage, but other times I smell like wood smoke and frangipani. You can't take me home to meet your parents, and I have serious issues, but for now? Hop in.