Hi everyone!
It’s about time for a life update. My apologies for not posting
this sooner. Crazy schedule, laziness, procrastination, yada yada. I’ve been at
my permanent site for a week now, and as much as I would like to tell you about
it, I feel like I should get you updated on the past few months before jumping
ahead to my current situation. So, where have I been and what have I been
doing? It’s a long story, so let’s get to it.
Almost three months ago I packed my bags, boarded a plane,
and began my new life as a Peace Corps Volunteer. The flight to
Thailand was mostly what you would expect a day-long flight across the world to
be. It was a day of sitting in an infant-sized seat and nodding off on an
inadequate neck pillow. I was seated between an older married couple, which
seemed odd to me at the time (and still does). The man had reserved
the window seat, and the woman had reserved the aisle, leaving the middle seat
for some poor random stranger…me. Most of the Peace Corps trainees were grouped
together towards the rear of the plane. Many rows ahead of them I sat, just
hanging out with my retired married couple. The first five or so hours were pretty
much pure silence, broken only by polite apologies when I needed to squeeze out
into the aisle for restroom breaks. The uncomfortable air was cleared a bit
when we all ordered chardonnay with our dinner. (By the way, people in Thailand drink beer and whiskey. Nothing else. A box of white wine isn't a care package option, is it?) Eventually we made
some small talk and I discovered that this couple regularly travels around the
world with their awesome group of retired friends. Cool, right? They gave me suggestions on
where to travel within Thailand as well as other countries I should visit. I
still think it’s weird that they couldn’t just sit together, but in the end it
was an interesting, if slightly awkward, flight.
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| Fresh off the plane and looking surprisingly well-groomed. |
As soon as we stepped off the plane, the entire
Peace Corps Thailand staff was there to greet us. We were all a bit disoriented
from the flight, and I’m sure it wasn't our finest moment in terms of personal
hygiene, but it was a nice moment. Photos were taken, welcome speeches were
made, and then it was time to find our luggage. My first taste of embarrassment
in Thailand came soon after.
We were all loaded down and ready to board the bus
to the hotel. I was doing well for a few minutes, juggling my luggage like a
champ. You know, far from graceful, but holding my own. Then the moving walkway happened. Standing directly in front of me was an unknown person who, upon exiting the
walkway, chose to linger instead of walking forward. His decision to stand idly
in front of the walkway for a split second was enough to cause a domino effect.
I bumped into the man, who stumbled just for a moment before continuing on his
merry way, while I, with my 100+ pounds of luggage, tumbled backwards onto Trey
(a PC volunteer who is as tall as I am short), who then of course tumbled
backwards with all of his luggage. There were some uncomfortable laughs and mumbled
apologies while we tried to untangle and pull ourselves up. It was an awkward moment, but I had to laugh. It felt like the perfect introduction to the next two years of my life. Welcome
to Thailand. Get ready to be embarrassed.
For the next two and a half months we were stationed in
Suphanburi, a province located about 2 hours outside of Bangkok. The first week
was a transitional one. We trainees all stayed together at a hotel, had meals together, and went through some basic introductory sessions
on Thai culture, Peace Corps policy, language, etc. The hotel itself was a luxury we would only later come to appreciate. The beds, though not entirely soft, were real mattresses, and the showers, though sometimes going cold or turning off altogether, did often manage to give us hot water (I know what you're thinking. Why would you want a hot water shower in Thailand? I just don't know. My love for hot water can't be explained.). And the air-conditioning. Oh the air-conditioning...
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| The air-conditioned, luxurious, not-yet-appreciated hotel room |
Below are a few photos from the various training sessions. The photos should give you an idea of the sort of lifestyle transitions we went through after leaving the hotel.
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| Squat Toilet Training |
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| Laundry Training |
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| Bike training, aka the unexpected 50k ride of death. |
After the first week we moved in with our homestay families, with whom we would be living for the remaining 9 weeks. Anyone who
has ever done a homestay program knows how uncomfortable it can be at the beginning. It’s like one long game of charades, just more frustrating and less entertaining. All you can
do is mime it out and hope that your family has the slightest clue what
you’re talking about. I was pretty fortunate in that my family was a group of laid-back, awesome people, but
there's just no avoiding the stress of constantly putting on the polite game face. Also, everything is more difficult with a language barrier, which is where Peace Corps language training came into play...
Peace Corps training focused heavily on language
during those first few weeks. For over a month, our schedule included four hours of language class almost every day. We also only had three people in our group, so it felt more like personal tutoring. Our language instructors were incredible. They were
relaxed, friendly, and made every class feel like a four-hour hang out
session. They kept us engaged and helped prepare us for
the looming Peace Corps language exams.
It was about four or five weeks in when we underwent our mock Language Proficiency Interviews (LPIs), which
were basically just practice for the big, nausea-inducing, official LPIs that
came at the end of training. In both situations it's just you in a room with an interviewer
and a tape recorder. They ask you questions, you're expected to ask them
questions, and if you're lucky they understand the stream of words coming out of your
mouth. Then you're dismissed and they listen to the recorded interview, eventually assigning you a skill level, which can be anywhere from novice-low to
advanced-high. People in the TCCS program (Teacher Collaboration and Community
Service) are expected to reach a minimum score of novice-high. Somehow, possibly by
the grace of a higher power, I made it through my LPI with a score of
intermediate-mid and was cleared for service. When I received the slip of paper
with the results, I might have let out a thoroughly irritating, high-pitched squeal of surprise. The LPI was something
that had given me mini-panic attacks for weeks, and it was finally over. I could do an internal happy dance and breathe a sigh of relief.
Ok kids, we’re moving on to a new topic. The
vomit and poo tales are about to begin, so proceed with caution. If you get the queasies easily, or if you're a man and would like to go on believing that women don't poo or vomit, now is the time to exit the blog.
Let me just
begin by saying that my time in Thailand thus far has been amazing. I’ve learned
a new language and met a ton of incredible people. Unfortunately, one thing
that has been far from awesome is my stomach's crazy inability to calm the hell
down. The Peace Corps doctor once spoke to us during a health session about the
various ways in which our bodies might be affected by living in Thailand. He talked about how we could possibly experience diarrhea, food poisoning, and
extreme constipation. I'll go ahead and tell you, it was all of the above.
Oh Bridgette of 10 weeks ago, if only I could go
back and warn you of the approaching storm. It all began at breakfast on the
morning of January 28th...
There I was, sitting with my host family,
enjoying some rice topped off with more rice, when my host mom pointed at a
bowl of mysterious shellfish, encouraging me to try some. Seafood at breakfast
is a rarity for me (I would do horrible things - maim, possibly kill - to be able to enjoy a bowl of
Life cereal at this point), but on the morning of the 28th I happened to be feeling rather daring. Alas, it was that boldness that would turn out to be my downfall. The
meal turned out to be enjoyable (slimy yet satisfying), and I spent the rest
of the day mentally patting myself on the back for being adventurous.
Fast forward to 8 or 9pm that night…
Having been someone without any previous
knowledge of food poisoning, I had no idea what was happening to me. I was
sweaty, my stomach felt empty even though I had eaten full meals all day, my
mouth was producing a ton of saliva (I learned later that this is your body's
way of protecting the throat, mouth, and teeth from the acid that's about to come up), and most
of all, I was incredibly queasy. Every little smell was heightened, and there
was a barrage of smells coming at me. I had the unfortunate luck to be living directly above the bathroom, and at that moment any normally unpleasant smells from that room suddenly became vomit-inducing. I tried to go to sleep, but after an
hour or two of restlessness and stomach gurgles, I knew something was quickly on its way up. I got up, escaped my mosquito net, and threw my face in the trash can.
The following week I had a very difficult time
eating normal meals. There was lingering nausea, and even though I was
constantly hungry, being around food made me want to run to the nearest trash can. Slowly I began to regain my strength, and after a week or two I was back
to my normal eating habits. The next problem began when I realized that although
I wasn’t emitting any vomit, I also wasn’t emitting anything else…from the
southern region…if you know what I mean.
This was the no-poo period. My body seemed to be
traumatized after the night of food poisoning and was too afraid to let anything
else out. The gates were closed. I was so busy with training though that it
slipped my mind that I hadn't been to the bathroom in days. After a week
without pooing, I finally realized and called up the Peace Corps doctor. He
didn’t seem too concerned, saying that this sort of thing is pretty common
following food poisoning, and that he would send over some laxatives the next
day. It was only after I hung up that I checked my calendar and realized, oh
wait, it had actually been two weeks.
The next day began my rigorous schedule of
constantly drinking disgusting, chunky, fiber-rich, powder packet water. When
that yielded zero results, I began taking the laxative pills. On the 18th day I took
4 of them and thought, dear lord, if nothing happens tomorrow, I may just end
up being the one person who can live her life without bowel movements. Where
was all the poo going, I wondered? I wasn’t uncomfortable. I didn't feel the
need to go, but somehow, tightly packed into my stomach, was food from almost three weeks earlier. Well, after several fiber drinks, 4 laxatives, and countless
mangos, I finally did my business. It only took 19 days. I think I may have set a world record.
You're probably wondering if I'm finished
talking about vomiting and pooing. Sorry, folks. The tale continues.
February 21st was a big day. It was our English
and Life Skills Camp, and we had been preparing for days. Teaching schedules
were posted and lessons were ready to go, and the day was just about to begin
when that familiar queasiness crept up on me. It was a bit confusing, as I
had made it a point to be extra boring about my food since the spew fest of
several weeks earlier. I figured it probably wasn't a good idea to have chugged a
red bull that morning for my caffeine boost, but that sort of thing, while obviously
a terrible idea, rarely results in a vomit attack. I also thought that maybe I
was just being paranoid and was just imagining the nausea. My stomach
legitimized those fears half an hour later when, during our first big group
activity, things took a turn for the worse. There we were, hand-in-hand in a
giant circle, Peace Corps trainees and our little campers. The game was just
about to begin when I realized that I was moments away from spewing all over
the children. I ran to the nearest bathroom, fully equipped with a squat toilet
and imaginary toilet paper, and began round two of spew fest. I was able to
teach some later that day, but mostly I just stayed seated outside of my
classroom, watched my friends teach, and occasionally ran to the toilet
to do my thing. At the end of the day I bicycled home, sincerely wishing I had
brought a toothbrush with me to work.
This all happened on a Thursday. The following weekend
I felt great. My body said, “Hey! It's all over now, Bridge. Relax. Eat what
you want. Poo normally. It's all good...”
And then Monday happened.
That Monday the PC nurse came to talk to us
about nutrition in Thailand, bringing along with her a power point slideshow,
full of images and fun facts about food. Normally an interesting topic, but not so much on the day when nausea takes over. I stuck it out for a while, trying to be professional
and attentive, especially since I was sitting next to the Peace Corps Country
Director. Eventually though things began to churn, and once I realized that something was
quickly about to make its way up, I gave in, jumped up, and sped walked/ran
across the room to the restroom. I spent most of the rest of day curled in a
ball on some chairs, waiting for the nausea to pass, and was told (not for the
first time in my life) that I looked like the girl from The Exorcist. So, guys, what do you think?
Is this a step up or a step down from the girl from The Ring? I’ve been told that I resemble her as well. Hmm... I wonder if I scare the hell out of people.
My final vomit incident came on the day of the
final Language Proficiency Test that I mentioned earlier. I felt somewhat off
that morning but didn’t take much notice of it because I was so nervous about
the interview (I tend to be overly anxious and neurotic about exams…It’s in my
nature.). Thankfully, my stomach ended up showing some mercy and waited
until after the interview to spew. That night, the sadly familiar warning
signs - queasiness, gurgling stomach, and increased mouth saliva - all
returned. Trash can, my best friend, was right there waiting for me.
Ok, now that I've thoroughly convinced you that
I'm holed up in a ditch somewhere slowly dying, let’s talk about happy things.
I'm actually doing really well since that last attack. I'm recovered,
recharged, and ready to take on the next two years. I'm taking daily multivitamins
thanks to the care package sent to me by my amazing sister Stephanie, and now
that I'm at my permanent site, I’ve finally started running again, which has
helped return me to my regular poop routine (too much information? I thought
so.).
Speaking of my permanent site, let's talk about
that some, and move away from bodily functions.
On Friday, March 22nd, the training wheels came
off when we were officially sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers. People dressed
up, photos were taken. There was a
snazzy ceremony. It was a big deal. As exciting as it was though, we couldn’t
ignore the giant countdown clock hanging over our heads. After 10 weeks of training, things were finally coming to a close. We had just two
days left before our group scattered to various parts of the country, and sure, we might get to see each other at English
camps and on the occasional weekend trips, but our one extended period of close
interaction was at an end. The final day might as well have been the last day
of summer camp. We cried, we promised to stay in touch, we hugged it out big
time, and we departed.
At this point I've been at my site for a week,
and I’m starting to really understand what it’s going to be like as a Peace
Corps Volunteer. It's just me, which means no more chatting with friends over a beer after a long day of
work. There's also limited internet access, which means less interaction with family and friends back home. As challenging as the past few
months have been, there was always a support network in place – PC friends, PC staff, and friends in the U.S. - to help guide me through the
rough patches. It’s beginning to sink in that I’m on my own now, which means
creating a new support network from the people in my community. I'm nervous, but I love a challenge. I also love sharing my embarrassing stories with you all back home, so here’s
to hoping that each day brings a new adventure and new stories to be shared (preferably
about poo).
To my family and friends back home, I love you so much. Thank you for making it through several paragraphs about spewing and pooing. You must really love me to have made it to the end.
In my next post I'll try to give you more
details about my site. Now though, I rest.
Love you all so much,
Sapaan (“bridge” in Thai) :-)
