Post 12: Krungthep

Volunteers are prohibited to leave site during the first month. We arrived at our sites of April 9th and thus could not leave before May 9th. A group of 20 or so volunteers arranged to meet up in Bangkok that first weekend of freedom and celebrate surviving the first thirty days as official Peace Corps volunteers. As the month of restricted movement neared its close, I felt restless. I kept busy at site and genuinely enjoyed each day. I explored, wrote, read, spent time with community members, prepared for school, drew a map of the area, cleaned (which takes a long time and must be done frequently or else the ants will invade en masse), and exercised for at least an hour each day. But no matter how productive or active I was, I could still feel kinetic energy accumulating inside me, bursting to be spent. This energy, this restlessness, did not manifest itself right away. However after my first 20 days or so at site, I had trouble sleeping.
One of the ways that life at site tests you, that Peace Corps tests you, is throwing you into an entirely different world. This is a valuable experience, but it is difficult. Not only am I the center of attention whenever I step outside my house, but everything I do is observed. Certain elements of my personality, of my American-ness, must be sublimated in order to be an effective volunteer. For example, Thai people are very patient and rarely express emotion. I, on the other hand, generally have what I feel written all over my face. I am expressive, impatient, at times a wee bit dramatic, and I appreciate directness. None of these qualities will help me here. When I am upset or frustrated, or grumpy, I have to push it down, take a deep breath, and not let it show. And these little repressions accrue over the course of a month. Coping with these facets of life in Thailand will become easier over time, as I grow accustomed to them, but they are still new.
Another challenge is constantly speaking Thai. I rarely speak English at site. If I do, it is with someone who speaks very basic English. Despite how good my relationships are with Thai people, with our limited language abilities, there is only so much that can be expressed. While I talk to other Americans on the phone, it is not the same as speaking face to face. To be able to tell a relatively complicated story and see the reaction on someone’s face, to have an intellectual conversation and feed off each other’s ideas, to simply whine about small things and frown without hiding inside my house-all these things I could not wait for. I also could not wait to feel anonymous. At site, everything from what I ate for breakfast to the mud spot on my biking shorts is public knowledge. There are so many foreigners in Bangkok that no-one shoots us a second glance, we can blend in. I was also looking forward to being out past 10 o c’lock, eating foreign food, wearing clothes that didn’t cover my shoulders, knees, and collar bone, taking a hot shower, leaving a 30 kilometer radius, and dancing.
So the morning finally came and I excitedly left my site for the bus station in Phitsanulok where I met up with Nancy Marie, a volunteer in the province north of mine. Both of us were slightly giddy from seeing another farang, and when our bus left at 9 am, chatted happily for an hour or so until the bus stopped. We did not understand what was going on, so continued our conversation assuming the bus would start back up soon…three hours waiting in the sweltering sun later, a replacement bus arrived. I will be honest here, any patience or calmness of soul I felt I acquired during my time here was shot to shit. We were on the side of a road in the complete and middle of nowhere, stranded, clueless as to why, desperately eager to get to Bangkok and see our friends, and no-one seemed to be bothered or impatient but us. I tried to ask what was going on, and people just smiled and said be patient. After 2 hours in the heat, I was done with patience. I was so frustrated and could feel all the pent up energy and promise of release denied building up. I took deep breaths and paced around, as I am sure all the Thai people were marveling at the hot-hearted (jai-ron) farang. There was definitely one or two times when other volunteers called me to check on our journey’s progress and I did some mild yelling into the phone. I also cried once or twice, knowing full well how irrational I was being, but feeling unable to control it, and finally finally finally the replacement bus came. We were back on the road. Granted, twenty minutes later the bus stopped for a lunch break, but Nancy Marie and I took this as an opportunity to buy beers to make the rest of the trip a little more fun.
Upon arrival at Bangkok’s main bus station, we met up with another volunteer and took a city bus to our hostel. Being as it was the middle of rush hour (ie anytime in Bangkok) this took an hour or so. Then we could not find the hostel, and by the time I arrived, I was disheveled, on the verge of tears, frustrated, and exhausted. However, Julia waiting for me on the hostel steps, and finding a big group of people hanging out in my room with hugs, drinks, and plans for the evening, quickly made me feel better. I put on a tank top and sampled the rice wine that many Thai people make on their own (yummy by the way, kind of like moonshine meets saki). The night involved a gyro, an Irish pub, a Nascar 500-esque cab ride, a torrential downpour, and a club called Hollywood where 20 of us danced together on the stage. It was a whirlwind of an evening and everything resounded with our liberation, both from site and from the need to be perfectly chipper, appropriate, and polite all the time.
The next day, a bunch of us met at a café that served foreign food, did a little shopping, hid for a few hours in a bar from the massive storm that hit Bangkok, and then went out again that night. By Monday, my lack of sleep both in Bangkok and at site caught up with me and I felt ready to drop. We hit the English language book store in Bangkok’s huge mall and a Starbucks, and then I watched four male volunteers try to make the most of an all-you-can-eat sushi and ice cream buffet. That afternoon, most people congregated at the Peace Corps lounge, which has couches and a TV, and is a haven amidst the pounding city to hang out and decompress. A game of scrabble and a few episodes of Arrested Development later, it was time to leave. The return journey was long and involved some difficult maneuvering back to my site, as well as a nap on a bench at a bus station. It was wonderful to see my friends and be myself, my real self, in public for a few days, and I feel ready not only for school to start, but for sleep.