Training

Post 1: Arrival
After a whirlwind orientation and night in San Francisco, where a group of young strangers were told “these people will be your best friends and family for the next two years” and handed an envelope with $150 dollars to celebrate their last night in states, we arrived in Bangkok at 2 in the morning. We were immediately escorted onto buses and drove for two hours through the night to our training site in Lopburi province. Groggily, they told us to be ready in a few hours to begin our Peace Corps training.
We met the Peace Corps staff, both Americans and Thais, and were given an overview of what to expect over the next week. We spent the entire day in “class”, learning Peace Corps policies, a smidge about Thai culture, the schedule, and a wee bit of language. Once class was over, a group of us decided to go explore the town of Chaibadan and try to track down some beer. Walking along the highway, stray dogs barked at us like crazy and all the Thai people stared at us with shocked and awed expressions on their faces. This is not a part of Thailand tourists generally visit. Finally, we found it to a store that sold beer. Back at the hotel, a group of us sat out on the back porch of Julia’s room and cracked into our beers. The girls changed out of our Thailand appropriate clothing- meaning we put on shorts and tank tops- and some of the boys played guitar. We sat in the humid night air for hours, drinking, musing, and getting to know each other.
The next few days were a whirlwind of administrative information, language training, Thai culture lessons, and biking. We learned the crimes Peace Corps can send us home for and how to count in Thai. They also told us that Thais never put anything on the floor, and that’s why there were tables at the back of the room, for our bags. We had all placed them at our feet. In Thailand, there is a strong hierarchy between the head and the feet, the head being the highest, most exalted part of the body and the feet being considered dirty and low. Our feet touch the floor, so to sit on the floor or place something on it is seen as dirty as well. Similarly, it is rude to point your feet at someone, so people do not sit cross-legged. We also had to adjust to eating with spoons-Thais don’t use knives. Attempting to cut a piece of meat (yes I eat meat here) with a spoon is not an easy task.
I decided ahead of time that I was going to eat meat in Thailand. I have been a vegetarian since I was 11 years old, although I have eaten fish. Food, and often food with meat, is such a huge part of Thai culture. I wanted to fully experience local cuisine and culture, and once I arrived at my home-stay, did not want to inconvenience my family. My friend Julia was a vegetarian too, so we tried eating meat together. One night at dinner I had a bite of chicken. Then the next day for lunch, I tried minced pork in my noodles. At first it was awful and I hated the texture and felt nauseous thinking about it. But, slowly over the past week, I have gotten used to it.
The days were long and intense. But every day at five, a big group of us would make the exodus to the beer store where the store owners laughed and began pulling beers out of the refrigerator before we even made it into the store. We would bring them back to the hotel and around 20 of us would sit on the front steps drinking, playing the guitar, chatting, and enjoying these few nights together. I had discussions about music, domestic violence, anarchy, all in one night. We have Buddhists and former karate champions, an acupuncturist, a cheerleading coach, and an amateur stand-up comedian. Artists, writers, thinkers, outdoorsmen, and politicos- all young (with a few exceptions) and slightly crazy for their willingness to embark on the Peace Corps commitment. The group was vibrating with positive energy. Every night we would go to bed late and wake up at dawn for a full day of training. But our exhaustion did not matter, because soon we would all be farmed out to our host families and apart every night for two years, so we had to soak this togetherness in.
One night our Thai counterparts held a traditional Thai ceremony for us. We walked into a dark room and they all stood in two facing columns holding candles. Woven mats were laid all over the floor and in the center of the room stood a large…I’m not really sure what it was. They Thais said some words in Thai and then translated them into English. Basically, it was a blessing ceremony. We sat in an outward facing circle and the Thais came around to each us and rubbed a piece of string across out arms, first away from us, to take away the negative energy, and then towards us to bring in the positive energy. Each Thai said their hopes for our time in the Peace Corps and in Thailand. It was a beautiful ceremony, and every Thai person that notices all the white string tied around our arms gets very excited.

Post 2: Homestay
The next buzz came the next day when we had tutorials on how to live in a traditional Thai home. We were informed that usually entire extended families live together in one house or a series of connected houses, and at night, everyone has a mattress they lay on the floor to sleep. Generally, the whole family sleeps in one room. We also learned how to use a squat toilet, which is a glorified hole in the ground, and what to do in lieu of toilet paper (they use a little hose to clean themselves instead…or their hands). We also learned how to do our laundry by hand, and most interestingly, how to get changed and shower when sharing a space with other Thai people. We received a sarong type garment called a “paa-sin” that, when changing where other people can see you, you use to cover yourself. In many houses where the bathroom is not completely closed off, people must wear this while bathing as well. Ah, and bathing. “Western showers”, which is a nozzle, are not generally used in the rural areas. Rather, they fill a tub with water and put a little bowl in the tub. The bather then fills the little bowl with water and pours it over himself/herself. After all these lessons, the whole group was a little nervous about our home-stays.
So Tuesday was the day we would disperse to our homestays and say goodbye to the relatively cushy existence at the hotel, where we were all together every day. After lunch, the governor of Lop Buri province came to our training site and honored us with a ceremony. Everyone had to greet him, one by one, in Thai and say where we were from. “Sa wat di ka, di-chan chuu Bekah namasakun Grant ka. Di-chan maa jaa muang Washington DC bpra tet America.” After the ceremony, we would meet our host families. Earlier that day, we were divided into six groups, of 8. Surrounding the town hub, there were six “tambons” or villages where we would be spread out. Then, within these tambons, there would be 4 volunteers in the TCCO program (teaching) and 4 in CBOD (community development). These groups of four were our language groups. During training, we study language in these groups for hours every day (around 4 students to one ajaan). Then in the afternoons, we go to technical training sessions, which are basically learning how to teach English in the Thai school system. I was placed in tambon Tha Din Dam, which is a small village a few kilometers away from the hub.
I am living with a host father and two daughters-there is no mother in the house, which is very unusual. My host fathers’ name is Boonlai and his daughters are Blue and Endoo. Blue is 18 and studied in Mexico for a year and speaks very good English. However, she goes to boarding school and is rarely home. My “paa” speaks no English whatsoever and Endoo speaks a few basic words, but is too shy to speak them to me. Once they picked me up, we drove to our house, which is on the river Pasaak. To get to our house, you turn down a road that winds with the river, and there are lots of fisherman floating along in boats. My host father is a cow farmer in his spare time (he works at the local administrative organization doing something with the local water supply), so next to our house, there is a pen with lots of Asian cows, which are all white (although there are a few brown and black ones strolling around) and have these weird jowel things. They moo sometimes, but luckily it is generally during the day. We also have four dogs, although I have only met two of them, and 2 kittens. There were two chickens, but then one of the dogs (DoDo, the three legged Rottweiler) killed it. I woke up one morning to find a dead chicken outside, and was convinced I contracted bird flu. The medical officer assured me that unless I touched it, I was fine. The river is in front of the house, and behind the cow pen, there are beautiful green fields with a forest and mountain behind them. The sun sets hot pink every night over the mountains and is my favorite time of day. In our front yard, there is an ancient and wise old tree, with two hammocks hanging from it, which I have yet to lay in because every time I do, a neighbor comes over to say hello or I have to go look up a word in my Thai dictionary.
My host father is divorced, which is very unusual in Thailand. We live a little outside of the village, but in the actual village there are 7 other volunteers. The houses are all very close together and doors are always open. There is no real concept of privacy and people in town constantly walk into each other’s houses. Thais eat and sleep on the floor (on mats of course), and spend an incredible amount of time just hanging out. My host grandmother, or “ya” lives a five minute walk away, on the edge of town. She lives with an aunt, an uncle, and a girl who is my “cousin”. Ya is hosting a volunteer named Charlotte, and every night my father, sister and I go to their house for dinner. There are lots of kids and neighbors running around, and we spend about a half an hour cobbling together some primitive communication with them, asking for help with our Thai homework, and playing with the kids. They laugh at us a lot, but in a well-meaning way.
When it is time to eat, we set floor mats on the floor and the women bring out bowls and bowls and bowls of food, as well as rice. Thais love rice and eat it with every meal. A meal without rice is not a meal, but a snack. The food is amazingly delicious, or “a-roy”, as we say over and over. Meals are all family style, so we all take from the bowls and then put the dish on our own personal bed of rice. You only take a teeny bit at a time, because otherwise it is greedy, and if you clean your plate, they assume you want more, so you have to leave food if you are full, which is very different from the American concept of ‘eat until there is no more’. Then we clean up and hang out a bit more, smile at some neighbors who speak to us in Thai, and head back to our house. At this point, it is usually 9 o’ clock and I go into my room for some alone time, which usually means reading and writing in my journal, and texting other volunteers to see how they are doing. Then I wake up at 6:15 and do the whole thing over again. At first, it was of course awkward with my family, but after a few days, it became easier. They took me for a drive yesterday and tomorrow we are going to visit a dam. I am not sure what to expect, but I am sure it will be beautiful.

Post 3: Settling into Training
Today was our first day off since arriving. Yesterday morning we had to do a “community mapping assignment”, which basically meant in our language groups we had to map our tambon, including landmarks like each of our homes, a health center, a store, a restaurant etc.. etc… We met at the school and from there my language group of 5 and our ajaan biked a few kilometers away to my house. Everyone awed and ooed over the view and at how spacious our house was. After that, we went and visited Sarah and Michelle’s homes. Sarah is living in a house with five women in the middle of town. They basically spend all their time in front of their house, in a porch-like area (except it is not elevated). After that, we crossed the street to Michelle’s home-stay. Michelle’s host mother runs a hair salon and a little convenient store. They are a very progressive, modern family, not traditional village Thai. She told us it costs 50 (haa- sip) baht for a haircut-roughly $1. 35. We cycled through town mapping out landmarks, and then began the long, ten kilometer trek to Geoff and Nick’s homes. Although technically in tambon Tha Din Dam, Geoff and Nick are staying with families quite far away from the hub and the rest of us.
Our ajarn is a teeny teeny little Thai woman (not an inch over 4 ft 5) named Manisa. She is a wonderful teacher, but a not-so-wonderful biker, and we had to go very slowly to accommodate her. Luckily, the ride is gorgeous. The road to Geoff and Nick’s takes us through farm land surrounded by mountains, so we road by sugar cane fields on a deserted country road, singing and goofing off. Finally we arrived in their village and met their host families, who are quite traditional. In Geoff’s family, the wife does not even eat with the men and children, but by herself later in the kitchen after they have all been served. The dynamic is interesting in my home stay because I do not have a host mother and my host father does not cook, most Thai men do not. However, Peace Corps requires our host families to give us breakfast. The past few days, I have been getting eggs, cookies, and hot dogs. Today the older daughter bought some frosted flakes though, so it looks like that will be my breakfast from now on. I am just glad I do not have to eat hard core spicy, fish and rice breakfasts, as some of my compatriots do.
After the mapping activity, we mosied back into town and met up with a large group of volunteers for lunch. We learned food words last week, and attempted to order for ourselves, although some mysterious dishes did show up. Once lunch was over, we strolled around town and through the big Saturday market before stopping in a pavilion to enjoy a beer. With our large group, all the beers the “bartender” had were quickly consumed, so he began running across the street to a supermarket every time we ordered more. We sat for hours drinking and taking pictures and waving to the little kids lurking around our table. Eventually, some people broke out their guitars to practice a Bob Dylan song they will perform at Thai night on Monday. The Thais are teaching us a traditional song and dance, and in exchange we have to perform two skits. One of them is on cultural differences between Thailand and America, and the other is about the 1960s. Julia and I were asked to be the “poster flower children”.

Post 4: Life Here
Life here has begun to settle in. Now that I know more Thai, I can communicate more effectively with my family and tell them, cryptically, what I have done that day and what I ate for lunch, which they always ask. Tuesday through Friday, I wake up, eat breakfast, and ride my bike to Roong Rien Ban Tha Din Dam, or the local school, where I study Thai with four other volunteers-Geoffrey, Nick, Sarah, and Michelle, from 8 am until noon. These language sessions are intense but make life here much easier. Then we eat lunch at either the noodle shop next to the school or the restaurant on the river down the road. For the past few weeks, we have been practice teaching in the afternoons from 1:30 until 2:30. I am partnered with Geoffrey, which is fantastic because he is 27 and was a professional teacher back in the states. As I have no teaching experience or background in education whatsoever, this is helpful. If you need someone to interpret a painting, write a short story or explain the themes in a novel, I am your girl. However when it comes to teaching English to 36 Thai 12 year olds, I am a little…out of my element. After practice teaching, we review the lesson and plan for the next day. Unfortunately, we only get to practice teach in a Thai school 8 times during training. The rest of the afternoons we spend in “tech sessions”. These are intended to teach us how to teach English has a Foreign language, but so far I feel I have learned very little on that front and am apprehensive for when I am thrown on my own into a school and expected to not only teach English, but also to teach Thai teachers (who may have been teaching for 10 + years) how to teach.
Every Monday is a hub day, which rather than being divided into small language groups or small tech groups, we (all 52 volunteers) spend the day together in lecture-type sessions that address a range of topics, from Thai culture to health and safety to how to study language independently. The material is generally boring but it is always fun to see everyone else and catch up. Saturdays are half days and different every week. Often, we have language in the morning and then the afternoon off, although this Saturday is “Thai sport” day, and we will play futbon (soccer), tukraw (a sort of Thai hackey sack game with a small woven bamboo ball), and one other sport that apparently does not translate. The two Saturdays thus far, at noon when we are released, a group of us have gone into the town and unwound with beers and guitar. Another fun thing to do in off time is go to the waterfall, which is a 30 minute bike ride from my house. There are dozens of food and drink vendors along a path, that then leads down to the waterfall. It is difficult to describe, but the waterfall is sort of like a river that flows down a rocky hill (not the huge, dramatic, powerful waterfalls we envision), and along the side, there is a lot of space of packed dirt where people can sit on mats and hang out. Last Sunday, I went with a few friends to the waterfall and we spent a lovely afternoon lolling around, being stared at by the Thais, and playing the Exquisite Corpse, a little poetry game the surrealists used to play.
Every night, we all arrive back home by 6:30 for dinner. This past week, my family has not been going to “ban ya” because my aunt, who cooks dinner, and her husband have been working in the fields harvesting and are too exhausted to make extra food. Instead, my host father rides his motor scooter to the market and picks up a few things. Often I have no clue what I am eating, but I eat it anyway, and if anything tastes too much like an internal organ, I try to subtly spit it back into my spoon and hide it under my rice. Our leftovers go to DoDo, Mi-poo, and our cats. The second chicken has disappeared now as well, and I believe may have appeared on my plate at some point in the recent past. We usually cobble together some kind of a conversation at dinner. I am never quite sure what they say to me because they speak so fast, and I think I have agreed to many things that I am unaware of.
DoDo and I have become friends, and now whenever I lay in the hammock with my ipod, journals and my book, watching the electric sunset, he comes over and head butts me until I pet him. I don’t know if it is the environment, the time, the space, or the intensity, but I have felt inspiration all around me since living here. I have been writing poetry and prose poems and had so many ideas for stories fly into my head. I spent so many years being absurdly busy, that having evenings with hours to fill feels wonderful. I read, and write, and think, and listen to music in a way that I never did before because my brain was so occupied with other things.
The world here is small. I live on a farm and near a town where everyone knows each other. Conversation is about food, what we all did during the day, and what other people did. Thais are not a high-strung people. They tend to be very “jai yen-yen”, which means cool-hearted, or patient, calm, and unworried. One night we watched neighbors make sticky rice, which means we watched a fire lap at bamboo containers filled with rice and condensed milk. My host father lays in the hammock every night talking on his phone (to his girlfriend, I think) and sometimes, after being exhausted from the intensity from the day, I just sit on our porch next to a fan and stare into the night, listening to music. And the days are intense. There is no air conditioning in our language classroom and the temperature is hovering around 95 degrees. And this is the cool season. Every day after practice teaching, I am soaked with sweat. The bathroom at the school where we spend our days has neither toilet paper or a hose, which means that one’s left hand is the method available for wiping. Still, at home I never wanted to go to bed early because there were too many other things to be doing. Here, if I feel like going to sleep at 9:30, I do (although I don’t really) and 11 pm is a late night. The past few nights, I have not slept very well because my stomach has continually been waking me up, but I felt better today.
Tomorrow after playing sports, my family is taking me to Lop Buri where there is a big festival. The other volunteers who have been already got decked out in traditional Thai costumes, so I am hoping I get to do the same. Sunday I plan to head to the waterfall again. Next week, we begin doing our site placement interviews, which is a big deal because it helps determine where we will be living for the next two years. I am hoping for a site in the north where I am not too far from other volunteers. Despite being covered in ant bites (did I mention I have 15 ant bites on my leg?), the constant feeling of being sweaty and gross, brain exhaustion from cramming Thai, and the general feeling of displacement, I am happy and feel lucky every day, as I ride my bike home over the river and see the sun setting over the cows and pastures and mountains, or when students “wai” when I walk by (basically a little bow), or when I wake up to find my host father fixing the broken strap on my sandal, or when the guitar players in our group have an impromptu jam session after tech class or when my family calls me “come la”, which in addition to “little girl” I found out also means “beloved daughter”, or when a million other little things happen that could only happen here and now with this experience.

Post 5: Choo Choo
Training, and also life at site I expect, is a constant fluctuation of highs and lows. In one day, we will energized, exhausted, motivated, frustrated, stressed, relaxed, happy and homesick. For the most part, I feel thrilled and excited to be here. Even if in the morning, I don’t want to get out of bed, because it means studying Thai for four hours and then sitting through generally dull technical sessions, I feel better as I bike through rice fields with the sun rising over the mountains. The weeks seem long and short at the same time, and as in the states, weekends are the best days. Usually on Saturdays, there is language class or some group session in the morning, but the afternoons are ours. Generally, a group of us goes to one of the local restaurants and hangs out for hours. Once or twice, a few of us went to get a Thai massage (which are the equivalent of $3 for an hour massage), where a little Thai women twists your limbs in every which way. Sundays are the full day off. Generally, I get out of bed late (around 8), hang out with my family a bit, eat breakfast, and then venture off for the day. Once, a group of us went to a wat in the mountains, and spent a few hours poking around. We have returned to the waterfall multiple times, because it is one of the only places we have found where we can hang out and drink in a big group without inconveniencing anyone (like our host families). Then we bike home, usually tipsy, for dinner with our families. One or two Sundays, the host families of volunteers had “barbeques”, and so 10 or so volunteers would go to their house for the afternoon. The days off really help us keep our sanity.
Week 5 of training is a big week. On the Monday, we find out our site placements, which is a huge deal. This is when Peace Corps tells you where you will be living for the next two years. Everyone had different things they were hoping for, and we are all dying to know where in Thailand we were and how close to our friends. Some people were dead set on being near mountains or the ocean. Others did not care where they were as long as they were near friends. Other people were really hoping to be at a site where they would focus on a certain project, like HIV/AIDS or youth development. I was a hoping for a bit of everything. I did not have a preference for region, and while I did not want to be on the opposite side of the country from my closest friends, I did not feel the need to be right near them either. I have certain issues I am more interested in than others, such as women’s health and empowerment, but ultimately just want to have some kind of a positive impact, regardless of the field. Still, it is nerve wracking….
-Follow-Up:
We received our site placements! I am in a small town in Phitsanulok province, which is lower North or Northern Central Thailand, depending on who you ask or the map. It is about 7 hours from Bangkok, 7 hours of Chiang Mai, and 7 hours from Khon Khen- the main hub for volunteer weekends in Isaan, the region where a majority of volunteers go. In that respect, it is a great location. My site is about 35 kilometers from the city of Phitsanulok, which is convenient because it means to go to the Tesco Lotus (a Walmart like store) for errands or to get to the bus station, it will not take long. Apparently, there was a volunteer at my site last year, but she got sent back to America after a month and a half at site. I am not sure about the story, but she must have broken one of the non-negotiable rules.
The Thursday following that Monday was the big trip to Bangkok. Everyone was restless, after being in Chaibadan for so long without leaving, and could not wait to blow off steam. Peace Corps puts us up in a fairly nice hotel, which is very exciting. After relaxing in the air conditioning for a bit, taking a hot shower with a nozzle, and enjoying a real bed, we set off for dinner. Julia and I had been craving Mediterranean food for weeks, and asked one of the ajaans for a good Israeli restaurant. She recommended one off Khoa San Road, the legendary road for nightlife and foreigners in Bangkok, where volunteers generally go out whilst in Bangkok. We hopped in a cab, high off the feeling of freedom, and enjoyed being on our own. In Chaibadan, we stuck out for miles as farangs. Bangkok has so many, no-one gave us a second glance and it felt sublime to feel anonymous. After dinner, we went to a rooftop hookah bar where we met up with the larger group of volunteers (dinner was a group of about 8). We chilled out for a while and then moved downstairs to the dance floor, where we broke it down until the early hours of the morning.
The next day, exhausted and hungover, we suffered through Peace Corps sessions on housing and discrimination issues before finally being set free. Most volunteers were slated to leave Friday night for their volunteer visits, where the trainees for visit a volunteer at their site to see what life as a Peace Corps volunteer is like and to ask questions. We were all assigned volunteers in pairs, and my partner was Joyce, an awesome but 73 year old lady (the oldest volunteer, but strong as an ox and very feisty), who did not want to take on overnight bus to visit Nathalie, who lives in Phrae in the North. A group of volunteers for various reasons got to stay another night, including me. Luckily, my closest friends were staying too, and so around 5 we ventured to the big mall in Bangkok for some Western food and to see a movie. We happened upon a Mexican restaurant, and got awkward glances from nearby diners as we groaned over guacamole and margaritas. Then we saw Watchman, which was not very good, but seeing a movie was more about the air conditioning and relaxation and popcorn than the actual film.
Following Bangkok and the volunteer visit was our site visit. It went well, but as I will write much more about site later (once I actually move there), I will focus on Wat Bot then.

Post 6: Finishing up Training
The last few weeks of training were palpably different than the first 6. Now that I had seen me site, there was a clear vision of what was to come. The future was no longer abstract. We still had language classes and technical training, as usual, but for me anyway, the tone had changed slightly. Weeks 8, 9, and 10 were a barrage of field trips, wrap-up activities, tests, interviews, and reviews. The language training focused more on self-directed learning, so we continue to develop our Thai at site, without the watchful eyes and coaching of our faithful ajaans. We had our final language test, follows by the Peace Corps exam. The language test, or LPI, consists of conversing with a tester from Bangkok in Thai for about a half an hour. They would ask questions and we had to answer, but it was mostly an oral conversation so they could gage our abilities. I did not think mine went that well, because she asked me some questions I could not answer. For example, I know how to say that I studied art at university and have worked at two museums, but when she asked me to talk about paintings and artists I like and why, I could not. My tester also asked me to compare German and American people, which I don’t even think I can do in English. I said German people drink more beer and changed the subject. I ended up getting an very high score-or intermediate high. It was the highest rating any volunteer got, and I was one of 3 people to receive it (incidentally, one of the other high scores was from the other Cornellian in the group-coincidence…I think not).
The Peace Corps final exam was open book and thus not difficult. The final interviews all went fine. During these days, when not in interviews, we were supposed to be preparing for the big host family thank you party. Every volunteer was required to participate in the show, by either doing a Thai dance, an American dance, or giving a short speech in Thai. I signed up to do this awesome Isaan coconut dance that involves lots of jumping and yelling, but sadly because my swearing-in speech entailed so much work, I was told I could not do the dance. Practicing my speech was decidedly not fun and it was torturous to watch my friends banging coconuts together and twirling around while I got drilled on tones, but at least every day we finished at 3 and I could unwind at the pool.
The thank you party was a lot of fun, although my family did not understand why I did not perform because they are not invited to the swearing in ceremony, so could not see my speech. After, we all moved into the TonPalm hotel for the last few days of training-the counterpart conference. Saying goodbye to my host family was sad, and they gave me lots of presents, like a pair of flip flops, a Songkran shirt, a bracelet, and my favorite, a laminated collage of pictures of us together. I will miss them and had a wonderful time living in their home. I will miss my dad and the cows and the hammock. All the volunteers were excited for the last few days at the hotel, because we would be able to hang out past 6:30. Some of the ajaans had discovered a bar bar in Chaibadan that actually had cocktails, so we rented song taio (roughly a covered pick-up truck with two benches in the back) and headed over en masse.
The days before swearing in were the counterpart conference , where all our “counterparts” were coming to Chaibadan, and then after swearing in, would take us back to site with them. My supervisor and one of my co-teachers came. The conference days were long and fairly dull, but the nights at TonPalm, our last nights together, were a lot of fun. I had to practice my speech during lunch and after the conference, but after practicing so much before, it was not nearly as frustrating. The criticism was no longer on tone and pronunciation (which at times got infuriating), but rather on smiling more, adding emphasis into my voice, and looking up more. Those last days were emotional but wonderful, all felt a predictably bittersweet combination of anxiety, sadness, and excitement. Up until this point, we had not been on our own at all, if anything the opposite. But after swearing-in, we would be.
Predictably, I slept through my alarm (after a late night) the morning of swearing in and my speech, and woke up to my ajaan calling me about or pre-ceremony practice session. I tore out of bed, put on my most riap roy outfit (I was lent shoes and a blazer) and headed to the ceremony room without my bearings. Kent and I had to sit in the front row and I tried not to be nervous. I don’t love public speaking and was not feeling my best. However, oddly, once I got up to the front and stared out into the crowd, looked at the ambassador and said “welcome honored guests” in Thai, any nervousness disappeared. It was bizarre, because in speeches I have given in the past, in English, I have felt nervous. But standing there, I did not. I felt completely relaxed and at ease. My heart was not pounding, and I was enjoying myself. I did not rush and I looked at the audience, and I told the stories in the speech well. The Thai members of the audience (the only ones who could understand) laughed at bits, and afterwards, I felt completely ready for site and empowered. I had been nervous over the past few days, and to be honest, dwelling on the fact that I had to leave my friends, rather than mentally preparing for life at site. For some reason, the speech helped rid me of those feelings. I felt strong and proud of my accomplishment. I still cried when I said goodbye to my closest friends, but I was ready.