I'm sitting next to my host sister dancing along with a a video of a man dancing to a Korean song. "Pasa Thai" (speaking Thai?). She shakes her head no."Pasa Japanese?" Nope. "Pasa Korean?" third guess confirmed. This, along with listening to the popular radio on our drives to dinner, awaken me to the fact that I really am in a much more cross-cultural environment than I'm used to. In America is it just because we're across the ocean from a majority of the other major pop culture makers and shakers or that we're more autonomous in some ways, culturally than other nations who are closer geographically? Or is America not the factor, but my own location in America? I mean, more of the time I'm in Grantham, PA (not exactly a cosmopolitan center) or in Dayton Ohio (not much better). I hear Barbara tell her tales from Phili this semester and I am absolutely shocked at the cross cultural experience she's getting only 60 minutes from Grantham. Maybe I need to "get out more".
Today was Lent and I went to 7 fountains Catholic Church, the same place that I did the three day silent retreat at. The service was mostly in Thai with occassional interjections in English to explain what was going on. The Priest had an amazing Thai accent and when he spoke English he definitely didn't have an American accent. Actually, it almost sounded Spanish, though he seemed to be a slightly tanned caucasian. I was tempted to be frustrated at not being able to understand what was being said for most of the service, but then I realized how rediculously egocentric I was being. Lana, you're in freaking Thailand. What do you expect? In fact, how backwards would it have been if the sermon was predominately in English? What would that say about our presence there? If that had happened, I hope that I would've been partially inclined to walk out.
I've really loved going to a liturgical Church. Maybe the Catholic Church has a different vibe than it does back home, but I didn't feel like any of the liturgy or the ritual that was being done was being done simply out of habit or out of feeling of obligation. Whenever I go, I feel like the people who worship at this church genuinely want to be there and seek to worship God with lives of service, although I've never had many conversations with many of the church members to really know. Something just seems different. Although I was conviced before I came, I now know that I definitely have to read more from the Church Father and Mothers, starting with St. Ignatius of Loyola.
It's official: we've moved out of the "cold" season and into the hot. And boy is it hot! Every day I feel sticky and slick from sweat, which is not the most pleasant feeling in the world. Also, I realized, since my host family doesn't have airconditioning, that I've never had to live in a place where it's this hot without having the comfort of an airconditioner. Sure, in Honduras and Nicaragua we sometimes did without it, and there are always those occassional days or weeks when the air goes out over the summer. But I've never gone without it for such a long period of time. It's opening my eyes and making me more and more thankful and appreciative for those little comforts that I so often take for granted.
Oh, and I miss rain. Cooling, drenching rain. Rain that pitter patters, growing in intensity until it becomes an unignorable pounding. Let it pound away, I don't care, just let it fall! The clouds are all predictable here: all white and fluffy, offering no relief from sticky, sizzling skin. At least they're honest, I suppose: no teasers to be seen. Every single one of them bluntly shoots down all your longing thoughts: "Nope, no rain for the next few months. Just deal with it". But I...."Just deal." Urgg.. but I guess I've always been a bit too sensitive for full-out bluntness.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Bonding with "crop-krua khong Thai"
The last few days have been wonderful ones with my host family. Not that we've done anything extra special, but there have just been some good bonding moments. Two days ago, nan helped me do wash in their spring board (?) washer/dryer. For each load I did, I had to fill up this machine with water three different times: The first time with detergent, the second time just water, and the third with fabric softener. Each time required me draining all the water first and then turning this nob that made it go for 15 minutes. Then on the other half of this machine was the dryer, this container that you shove your clothes into and then compress as tightly as possible before cranking the nob to heat them. The first time I tried this I filled the container too full and nearly knocked the machine over, shaking itviolently off its wooden platform. oops. How do you say "I broke your washing machine" in Thai? One of my goals this trip is not to find out.
I've learned the hard way that washing clothes back home is a definite luxury which, if I may be blunt, I would be screwed without (granted I haven't had much of an opportunity to improve in my use of other methods).
Yesterday nan, nuu, now and I watched the movie Transporter over our noodles and french fries dipped in Thai ketchup (which seems to be much sweeter than the ketchup back home). Talking over movies doesn't always work out, but we like to do a lot of comparing cultures in our side commentary. For example, the other night we watched a movie that was made for a Western audience. This movie had Asian actors/actresses, and nan could tell that they were trying to pass Chinese actors off as Thai. Now whenever I watch this movie back home I can laugh along with others who have the same cultural insight (not that this makes us any better; there are plenty of generalizations made about Americans here in Thailand that simaltaneously make me want to hurl and die with laughter).
And did you know that people here can't tell our group of American students apart, even though some of us have blonde hair and others black or brown hair, some blue eyes and some green or brown eyes? And it's not that all Asians look alike; it's just that our cultures look at different characteristics to distinguish one person from another. Honestly, I wasn't really aware of this until I came here, and feel silly not that I see it. I hope that now I'll think twice before making generalizations about the looks of people with different nationalities.
Later that night I got out my Thai language book and had a very broken conversation with my 13 year old host sister named nuu. I know I must've sounded foolish, mumbling the simplest sentences, but I think we connected a little bit. I hope that even if she can't speak English or Thai with me that she at least feels more comfortable around me; naan says that she's very shy, which I think Thai children generally are in comparison to children in the U.S. (this does NOT mean that they're any less stubborn or rowdy, though). Nuu even went "running" with me today before dinner (although it was more of a trot for her; I don't know what we looked like in this culture, but back home we must've looked pretty silly since she was still wearing her school uniform, which is made of a thick green material, the skirt of which hangs below her knees).
Then tonight we went out to eat at another restraunt where everyone shares from a bunch of different entrees, a style of eating that I've come to love. I hate how when you go out to eat in America you're given a huge plate of food that your stomach, in act of black magic, somehow expands enough for you to consume. Even doggy bags usually don't take away from the fact that you will usually consume an unearthly amount of food. Okay, so that's probably being a little harsh, but only a little. It's also less common in America to share food since there's a definite sense of ownership that we (including myself) have over "our" plates. So I love eating here because everyone shares and I find it generally easier to stop eating when I'm full. And it's not that they're more altruistic than us, it's just that it's more of a group mentality, which has both its positives and its negatives.
The point of all this is to say that, through events none too extraordinary, my Thai family and I have gotten closer and I'm feeling immensely thankful.
Cliff note on culture: Our last few nights of eating Chinese food brought to mind some interesting notes on prejudices among the Thai people. There's a large Chinese population in Thailand and many of the wealthier business class have a Chinese heritage. For this reason, many ethnic Thais feel threatened by their success and have a prejudice against them. One of my Ajarns (Professors) told us a story of a brilliant Thai man who studied at a prestigious school in England but for whom it took nearly his whole adult life to accept his Chinese heritage.
There's an even stronger prejudice against those with Indian heritage, since they're the skilled silk makers and artisians, Thai trades that are world renowned for their excellence. We asked how such people remained in business if Thais were so prejudiced against them? Thais still buy their products because, well, they're the best, and even if they didn't, foreigners who come here do.
I've learned the hard way that washing clothes back home is a definite luxury which, if I may be blunt, I would be screwed without (granted I haven't had much of an opportunity to improve in my use of other methods).
Yesterday nan, nuu, now and I watched the movie Transporter over our noodles and french fries dipped in Thai ketchup (which seems to be much sweeter than the ketchup back home). Talking over movies doesn't always work out, but we like to do a lot of comparing cultures in our side commentary. For example, the other night we watched a movie that was made for a Western audience. This movie had Asian actors/actresses, and nan could tell that they were trying to pass Chinese actors off as Thai. Now whenever I watch this movie back home I can laugh along with others who have the same cultural insight (not that this makes us any better; there are plenty of generalizations made about Americans here in Thailand that simaltaneously make me want to hurl and die with laughter).
And did you know that people here can't tell our group of American students apart, even though some of us have blonde hair and others black or brown hair, some blue eyes and some green or brown eyes? And it's not that all Asians look alike; it's just that our cultures look at different characteristics to distinguish one person from another. Honestly, I wasn't really aware of this until I came here, and feel silly not that I see it. I hope that now I'll think twice before making generalizations about the looks of people with different nationalities.
Later that night I got out my Thai language book and had a very broken conversation with my 13 year old host sister named nuu. I know I must've sounded foolish, mumbling the simplest sentences, but I think we connected a little bit. I hope that even if she can't speak English or Thai with me that she at least feels more comfortable around me; naan says that she's very shy, which I think Thai children generally are in comparison to children in the U.S. (this does NOT mean that they're any less stubborn or rowdy, though). Nuu even went "running" with me today before dinner (although it was more of a trot for her; I don't know what we looked like in this culture, but back home we must've looked pretty silly since she was still wearing her school uniform, which is made of a thick green material, the skirt of which hangs below her knees).
Then tonight we went out to eat at another restraunt where everyone shares from a bunch of different entrees, a style of eating that I've come to love. I hate how when you go out to eat in America you're given a huge plate of food that your stomach, in act of black magic, somehow expands enough for you to consume. Even doggy bags usually don't take away from the fact that you will usually consume an unearthly amount of food. Okay, so that's probably being a little harsh, but only a little. It's also less common in America to share food since there's a definite sense of ownership that we (including myself) have over "our" plates. So I love eating here because everyone shares and I find it generally easier to stop eating when I'm full. And it's not that they're more altruistic than us, it's just that it's more of a group mentality, which has both its positives and its negatives.
The point of all this is to say that, through events none too extraordinary, my Thai family and I have gotten closer and I'm feeling immensely thankful.
Cliff note on culture: Our last few nights of eating Chinese food brought to mind some interesting notes on prejudices among the Thai people. There's a large Chinese population in Thailand and many of the wealthier business class have a Chinese heritage. For this reason, many ethnic Thais feel threatened by their success and have a prejudice against them. One of my Ajarns (Professors) told us a story of a brilliant Thai man who studied at a prestigious school in England but for whom it took nearly his whole adult life to accept his Chinese heritage.
There's an even stronger prejudice against those with Indian heritage, since they're the skilled silk makers and artisians, Thai trades that are world renowned for their excellence. We asked how such people remained in business if Thais were so prejudiced against them? Thais still buy their products because, well, they're the best, and even if they didn't, foreigners who come here do.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Lessons from a Kitten
This weekend I went on a Silent Retreat at the Chiang Mai Seven Fountains Catholic Church. The retreat wasn't mandatory but I had heard from some Messiah students last year who did it and said that it was one of the greatest times of personal spiritual growth from the whole semester. So though the idea of spending two and a half days in nearly total silence was slightly daunting, it was something that I wanted to experience. Plus I've read about different spiritual disciplines before and had always wanted to know why so many Church Fathers and Mothers saw silence as an important way to strengthen one's intimacey with God.
While there were many things I could share about the retreat, I'd love to share a lesson that I learned from none other than a cat that was roaming around the church garden. I'll just write what I wrote in my journal:
***
Today as I was walking on the garden path, I saw a beautiful young looking cat attempting to pounce on bugs. I gasped and lurched to a stop at the sight of him: such a clean and beautiful cat (which seemed rare for what I had seen in Thailand).! His silver coat and bright green eyes were captivating and I beckoned him to come to me. As soon as he saw me he began meowing. His meow was as much like a child's cry as I think I've ever heard from a cat. My heart instantly softened towards him and as he rubbed up against my legs, letting me stroke his fur, his purring persisted. He seemed pretty thin and so I gathered that he must be hungry. I had great compassion for him and was filled with a sense of urgency to find food for him. Lunch wouldn't be for another hour, so no meat was around and all I had was a banana. Then, remembering the milk in the snack area, I set off on my quest: I was going to feed this cat.
After getting a cup from my room I rushed to get the milk and then rushed back to the garden, all the time thinking of how his aching would be soothed as soon as he got that milk in his belly. I imagined him eagerly running toward me, gratefully lapping up the milk from my little cup. But when I arrived back at the garden he was no where to be found! I looked all over for him and even retraced my steps, but there I stood with a full cup of milk and saddened over the thought of him going off hungry, completely ignorant of what I had brought him.
As I had been getting the milk, I began to think about the intensity of the compassion that I had felt for the kitten, although I had never seen him before and nor did I know if he was in fact starving. After all, such a clean and shiny coat was rare for any stray animal in Thailand. Then I had a strange epiphany, which I guess you are more open to having when a thousand thoughts from a busy, talkative day are filling the space in between your ears: If I was so moved by compassion for this kitten when he cried out to me, think of the immensity of the compassion that God must feel towards his children when they cry out to him! How could I give myself more credit than God for being compassionate? Wasn't it he who created me? If I have that kind of capacity for compassion, his must be overwhelming.
Sometimes I think we see God as this task master who coldly distributes supplies based on quotas and all kinds of facts and figures, not open to hearing any personal "sob" stories as to why someone might need something. But I think that I saw today how beautifully eager God must be to meet all our needs. If we would only cry out to him like that little kitten did to me!
Oh, and p.s. to all you little kittens out there: don't go running off before He can feed you. Wait-He will provide! Because, unless your grasshoppper hunting skills are better than my grey little friend's, you'll probably go off needlessly hungry otherwise
While there were many things I could share about the retreat, I'd love to share a lesson that I learned from none other than a cat that was roaming around the church garden. I'll just write what I wrote in my journal:
***
Today as I was walking on the garden path, I saw a beautiful young looking cat attempting to pounce on bugs. I gasped and lurched to a stop at the sight of him: such a clean and beautiful cat (which seemed rare for what I had seen in Thailand).! His silver coat and bright green eyes were captivating and I beckoned him to come to me. As soon as he saw me he began meowing. His meow was as much like a child's cry as I think I've ever heard from a cat. My heart instantly softened towards him and as he rubbed up against my legs, letting me stroke his fur, his purring persisted. He seemed pretty thin and so I gathered that he must be hungry. I had great compassion for him and was filled with a sense of urgency to find food for him. Lunch wouldn't be for another hour, so no meat was around and all I had was a banana. Then, remembering the milk in the snack area, I set off on my quest: I was going to feed this cat.
After getting a cup from my room I rushed to get the milk and then rushed back to the garden, all the time thinking of how his aching would be soothed as soon as he got that milk in his belly. I imagined him eagerly running toward me, gratefully lapping up the milk from my little cup. But when I arrived back at the garden he was no where to be found! I looked all over for him and even retraced my steps, but there I stood with a full cup of milk and saddened over the thought of him going off hungry, completely ignorant of what I had brought him.
As I had been getting the milk, I began to think about the intensity of the compassion that I had felt for the kitten, although I had never seen him before and nor did I know if he was in fact starving. After all, such a clean and shiny coat was rare for any stray animal in Thailand. Then I had a strange epiphany, which I guess you are more open to having when a thousand thoughts from a busy, talkative day are filling the space in between your ears: If I was so moved by compassion for this kitten when he cried out to me, think of the immensity of the compassion that God must feel towards his children when they cry out to him! How could I give myself more credit than God for being compassionate? Wasn't it he who created me? If I have that kind of capacity for compassion, his must be overwhelming.
Sometimes I think we see God as this task master who coldly distributes supplies based on quotas and all kinds of facts and figures, not open to hearing any personal "sob" stories as to why someone might need something. But I think that I saw today how beautifully eager God must be to meet all our needs. If we would only cry out to him like that little kitten did to me!
Oh, and p.s. to all you little kittens out there: don't go running off before He can feed you. Wait-He will provide! Because, unless your grasshoppper hunting skills are better than my grey little friend's, you'll probably go off needlessly hungry otherwise
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