Emily Takes On Thailand

Yes, you read correctly. No, Paw Aw, they were not flies. No, host mother, they were not oversized moths will a strangely organized system of government. I was swiftly jogging back to my house, running late for dinner with my host family. Change out of your uniform, go pee, grab the bike, and go. I pull open my heavy rusted garage door and run inside, only to be greeted by a noise. A low whirring noise. I walk to the bathroom, open the door, and see the wall completely covered black. By bees?! Yes, world. By bees. In the six hours I had been away from home, bees flew in through the air slats in my bathroom and created a nest that attracted at least 500 bees. Now my response to this horrific scene is proof that I have been a PCV for 13 months. Old Emily would have screamed or fainted or called her mother to fix it. This Emily said-in fact I think her exact words were- "OOF!" I called my landlord, and together (or sort of together, I mainly just watched in ama

2019  ---->                                                        2020 New Years Day. I stepped off the plane and wearily made my way off of the plane from Chiang Mai. I hadn't slept at all the night before, due to the New Year's Eve festivities, and was eager to return to my own bed. But I still had a ways to go: from Bangkok, a four hour bus ride, followed by a half hour van ride, followed by a twenty minute taxi ride with a cranky driver was between me and rest. Out of the boarding bridge, the vast windows of Suvarnabhumi airport reveal its geometric garden planted just outside. Its bushes grow in the shape of lotuses, its grass trimmed in a lighter kelly green. It is encircled by the shark-fin arches of the terminal. It's sort of an ironic sight: amidst the chaos of angry metal, flight delays, and crying babies, the garden remains empty and tranquil. A thought occured to me that slowed my hurried pace a bit: I was here one year ago. I have lived in T

"You look sad," Oh said, rather matter of factly, when she walked up to me at assembly this morning. She explained in great detail how sunken in my eyes were, and that my skin seemed more irritated than it usually was. Since daily reports on my physical appearance is something I'm used to, I responded by sticking my tongue out and scrunching up my nose. She laughed and walked away. I wasn't sad. But I guess I wasn't not sad.  This is officially our third week being back to school since our month long break in October. I spent it with the very best buddies a girl could ask for in Krabi (Southern province in Thailand) and Cambodia (not a country in Africa, weird white lady I only knew for ten minutes). This was the longest time I had spent with my fellow Peace Corps volunteers since training, and it was a break I really needed. We caught up, hugged a lot, drank with complete professionalism, and pretended not to have a care in the world.  Of course, there wer

After next week, my first semester at Ban Huaymongkol will officially come to a close. The constant fury of lesson planning, staff meetings, and school events are going to come to a halt (mostly) for the month of October. My students will take their English final exam, then be on their way to ride their bikes or play soccer from sun up to sun down. I wrote the letter you are about to read knowing that they would probably never see it, and even if they did they probably would not know what it meant. But it still felt important to put into words. I think it encompasses my experiences of my first semester fairly well so I wanted to share it on this blog: Dear Students,  I am writing you from my living room couch the night before your final exams begin. You're almost done! Another semester has come and gone. I know you're relieved and ready for a break, just as much as your teachers are.  I will confess something to all of you: when I first started thinking about you

If you regularly check up on this blog, you know this experience has been a lot of things for me: overwhelming, exciting, inspiring, exhausting. These past (almost) 8 months have shaped me in ways I could not have imagined, and have done so in the most surprising ways. But there is one aspect of my time here that I have not put into words yet, and I would like to do so now: "Emily, our meeting is cancelled today. We have to practice for the staff potato sack race." These exact words were spoken to me not but four hours ago, with the utmost sincerity and no smile to accompany it. My counterpart could see I was headed to her office to set up for our usual afternoon co-planning session and thought she would spare me the walk. Nice of her, really, considering the absurd amount of flashcards sprawled in my hands and sweat trickling down into my butt crack. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see it had already begun. Teachers, most of whom I have never seen without a ful

I sit across the table from my two counterparts, both waiting for me to begin. I close my eyes to organize my thoughts. This is the first meeting the three of us have had since the Reconnect conference, where we sharpened our skills as volunteers and gained new ideas to use in the classroom. My toolbelt had been completely refurbished, and now was the time to show it to my fellow builders. After being with other farangs for the past two and a half weeks, my instinct was to talk about all the new adjustments to be made at 90 mph English. I knew- or was pretty sure I knew- what we as a team should begin focusing on. I wanted to get it all out in one breath while I still had the guts to say it at all. But as I sat across from them, I hesitated, pressing my thumb into my palm. I needed to reset myself. I wasn't shooting the shit with peers over beers anymore. I was home. It was time to get back to work. As I briefly summarized in my last post, most of Reconnect in Prathum Than