tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39888863993505133382024-02-02T12:08:19.172+07:00So Little Thai, So Much To DoLife as a PCV and other post-grad explorations in AsiaSarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.comBlogger149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-20794902848853410052016-11-20T03:48:00.000+07:002020-05-28T22:16:02.689+07:003 Years Later: Peace Corps Lessons Under A 2016 Election Cycle<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Before Election Night, I
was confident that good would triumph over evil, light over darkness, and
knowledge over ignorance. As I write this, I’m still hoping that this is
possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Over the past two weeks,
I’ve felt the urge to help everyone at once but am lost in how to do so.
Lately, the experience I can relate this to the most is my Peace Corps service
in Thailand from 2012 to 2014. In January 2012, I remember leaving for the Peace
Corps Staging Event in Detroit as a 21-year-old UCLA graduate ready to take on
the world with 15 years of experience as a Third-Culture Kid (TCK) and 3 years
of studying International Development Studies to guide me. The 10-week
Pre-Service Training in Singburi, a tiny province just outside of Bangkok, was
challenging, but manageable among friends with whom I learned how to speak
Thai, navigate through Thai culture, and serve our communities in a variety of
development sectors at our future 2-year assignments. 10 weeks later, I
left my Peace Corps Thailand comrades to move to my village in the northernmost area of Thailand, excited and ready to help everyone with everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The start of my 24-month
commitment wasn't a Peace Corps Africa experience with mud houses, dirt roads,
or zoo animals chilling outside my home. I had what was considered the “Posh
Corps” experience: a concrete house along a two-lane highway that cut through
my village with rice paddies, fruits and veggies galore. Everyone had access to
internet either on their computers, on their cell-phones or both. I walked into
this village thinking, “Wow, this doesn’t seem challenging at all! Why would
they send me HERE to help?” I figured based on all these Posh Corps amenities,
I was in a fairly modern village, and considered myself to be one of the
luckiest Peace Corps volunteers alive. Two years here wouldn’t be so hard after
all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was in for a rude
awakening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The first six months in
Thailand were a confusing and at times nauseating rollercoaster ride. I
realized that being a young Asian American female placed me at the bottom of
Thailand’s hierarchical triad (age, gender, status), leaving me to encounter
stereotypes that I hadn't faced in California as a kid: I wasn’t allowed
to learn muay thai or play basketball because they’re considered "boys’
sports". I should respect all elders, even the ones calling me “fat” or “ugly” because of my thick thighs and dark skin. I shouldn’t call
someone out on a mistake because that isn’t the <i>riap roi </i>(appropriate)
way to act in Thailand. I found it hard to appreciate Thailand and missed the United States terribly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As the months
progressed, I continued to create a life for myself within this community that
I was still learning more about everyday. I slowly started making friends with
the neighborhood kids, who couldn’t understand why this American “elder”
enjoyed leading arts and crafts activities and learning new Thai games with
them so much. Thai woman found it odd that I thought my
tan was beautiful despite their insistence to cake on more whitening powder on my face to make me <i>suay mak mak</i> (very very beautiful). The men
laughed at me whenever I tried to help dig a hole or build a fence. Even my high school co-teachers shook their heads a bit whenever they saw me teaching neighborhood kids how to dribble the ball or set screens on the concrete outdoor courts during lunch breaks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Over time, both my Thai
community members and I began to understand and embrace each other’s
differences. I appreciated the art of respecting your elders in Thailand
(whether it meant relationships between students and teachers or parents and
children), getting to know your community and living <i>jai yen yen </i>(cooled
down and calm). My students and colleagues started recognizing the merit in my
American values as well: the value of standing up for yourself when you see
something is wrong, the value of doing something you love even if it’s judged
as a boy’s or girl’s hobby, and the beauty of all skin colors and all body shapes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By the end of Year 2, I was crushed to have to leave this place that had become my home. Even though my
Thai community members didn’t change my culture and I didn’t change theirs, we
changed each other’s perspectives on each other’s cultures and from there
learned which aspects of our cultures we would want to adapt into our own
homes. I wasn’t able to break down gender barriers or ethnic tensions, but at
least I was able to start the conversation and provide my community with the
tools to do so, if they decided to go down that path.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I’m eight months into my
third year of being back in the United States, and I’m experiencing the same
feelings of hopelessness, eagerness to jump the gun and desire to make
everything okay again. Truth be told, I'm not even sure what "okay"
would be in this country. The task to do good and be a Peace Corps Volunteer
here is more of a challenge because 1) I’m not dealing with a village of 10,000
people and 2) I’m trying to fix the faults of my own home and recognize the
flaws of my own country. As much as we don't want to reflect on the faults of
our homes and families, sometimes it’s necessary to stop and think, “What’s
wrong here? What can I actually do to make this better?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For the next four years
under the rule of President-Elect Donald Trump, my transition as a U.S. citizen
will be similar to my 27 months of service in Thailand: I will take the time to
learn about this new country I live in. I will rediscover what brings me
passion, what frustrates me, what interests me, and what causes are best fit
for my interests and skills. Along the way, I will come across people who
totally get me, who totally don’t, and who just don’t know what to think of me
yet. I will have to practice patience and empathy, even during those times when
I just want to scream and give up trying to understand. But most importantly,
like in the Peace Corps, I will have to accept that at the end of this
four-year team, there's a chance that I won’t reverse the damage of the 2016
Election Cycle rhetoric. At the end of this four-year term, my “projects” may
all fail. However, I know that throughout these next four years, I will learn
more about myself than I bargained for. For the next four years, I will connect
with a wide network of people who also wish to tackle this shared struggle in
their own unique ways, and I’ll offer advice or assistance whenever I am able
to. I will learn from my failures, maybe cry, shake it off, and get back up
again ready for the next challenge that may knock me down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Once Peace Corps
Trainees complete the 10-week Pre-Service Training, they participate in the
Swearing-In Ceremony, during which trainees take the oath to commit to
following three goals of Peace Corps:</span><br />
<span style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<ol start="1" type="1">
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To help the people of interested countries in meeting
their needs for trained men and women.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To help promote a better understanding of Americans on
the part of the people served.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To help promote a better understanding of other people
on the part of Americans.</span></li>
</ol>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To my fellow U.S.
citizens and residents: consider this post my Swearing-In Ceremony. I can't
predict what will happen in the future, but I'm ready to commit to you all for
the next four years</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
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</style>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-79175870358519478402014-03-20T13:20:00.000+07:002014-03-20T13:20:57.370+07:00It's All Really HappeningCurrently sitting at an Auntie Anne's at Suvarnabhumi Airport's international terminal. In less than two hours, I will be boarding a plane to Hanoi, embarking on a two-week adventure throughout Vietnam and the Philippines before my final destination, Florida.<br />
<br />
Despite the obnoxiously large carry-on pieces surrounding me and my two Peace Corps travel buddies, it still hasn't hit me that this is it. The past month of goodbyes at my village have been a complete blur, with each attempt at writing a blog post ending in tears, frustration, binge-eating on my neighbor's generous Northern Thai meals, or a mix of all three. To complete a blog post meant to acknowledge the end, and even with the plane ticket and American passport next to me, it still doesn't feel like I'm leaving this place.<br />
<br />
At some point - maybe when I'm on a boat exploring Halong Bay, or in between Netflix breaks at my parents' home in Fort Lauderdale - I'll be able to process all this and fill my friends and family in on the farewell parties, the goodbye presents, and the tearful reluctance to let go and move on. When I land in Hanoi, I'll get over the lack of <i>guai dtiao</i> and embrace the bowls of pho in Ho Chi Minh City, plates of chicken adobo in Manila, and the American breakfasts in my near future. But for now, I'm craving my host mother's <i>nam prik ong</i>, imagining my students' smiles, and mentally writing out a postcard to my neighbors saying how much I miss them.<br />
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I'm leaving my second home. It's all really happening.<br />
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-81370807944906659812014-02-24T23:14:00.003+07:002014-02-24T23:20:34.994+07:00Ahaan Thai: Red Ant Eggs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My first culinary encounter with <i>khai mot daeng </i>(red ant eggs) was during site visit two years ago, when I woke up to the sight of my co-worker Ying emptying a plate of red ants and their offspring into a frying pan, then topping off an egg omelette (chicken eggs, this time) with the spiced-and-salted insects. "<i>Ruu-duu ma-muang </i>(mango season)," Ying exclaims to me, indicating that these ant eggs are a seasonal treat that she has prepared specifically for her <i>farang </i>(foreigner) guest.</div>
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At the kitchen table, I remember Ying's five-year-old daughter Neung eagerly scooping up the ant eggs with balls of sticky rice, while Ying's mother laughs at me from across the table, revealing a red ant stuck between her teeth. I nervously smiled at Ying's family before quickly dipping my sticky rice into the pile of ant eggs and throwing it into my mouth. Once I overcame the fact that I was consuming insects found in the average American school's sandbox, I gave in to the lemon-like taste from the red ants' diet of mango leaves and the creamy texture of the ant eggs. Before I knew it, I was elbow-to-elbow with Neung as we gobbled up the <i>khai mot daeng </i>as fast as we could, abandoning our sticky rice for spoons in order to enjoy the insects in all their citrus-and-creamy glory.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUtAwH4dTosvseyOuGLrqfuD9ROlO0CvvjMYVkFA2_CI1HaqaOUcdc8Lv1MJSfnBemGAcG1G9vB3BMhQtG52C9CdOlMiw31MHWtHUDQqxIAw0kjuX8FDjS4c5VvSfhriJHgUfcE0VLsU/s1600/IMG_3891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUtAwH4dTosvseyOuGLrqfuD9ROlO0CvvjMYVkFA2_CI1HaqaOUcdc8Lv1MJSfnBemGAcG1G9vB3BMhQtG52C9CdOlMiw31MHWtHUDQqxIAw0kjuX8FDjS4c5VvSfhriJHgUfcE0VLsU/s1600/IMG_3891.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A pile of red ants and eggs, fresh from my host mother's mango tree</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You can run, but you can't hide from my host mother's frying pan...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9n38WgOBttRxcNOzN4oqxzA0xfggQMT0HDwjci29O1cfHCMu_UfSkRs_nmNvic8_BZ2lnq0j_Sq5VDJ8IehDeYNVTMzw3KAUoP4m4MG3NdXvWDOhHLrUxXdWHpibMQ24-ttO0Xe00ZDs/s1600/IMG_3894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9n38WgOBttRxcNOzN4oqxzA0xfggQMT0HDwjci29O1cfHCMu_UfSkRs_nmNvic8_BZ2lnq0j_Sq5VDJ8IehDeYNVTMzw3KAUoP4m4MG3NdXvWDOhHLrUxXdWHpibMQ24-ttO0Xe00ZDs/s1600/IMG_3894.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Last weekend's dinner: mashed red ant eggs tossed in a pan <br />with soybean oil, salt, and crushed chilis *yum* </span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-77555099297143860492014-02-18T10:14:00.000+07:002014-02-18T10:14:06.148+07:00How Our Garden Grows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A few weeks ago, several students from the recycled jewelry club invited me over to Ban Chompoo Primary School one Saturday afternoon to check out the vegetable garden behind the school's Grades 4-6 building. I hadn't seen the school's backyard since our last clean-up back in September, so I was shocked by all the cabbages that had blossomed! Bas and Ahua wandered through the fields with knives in their hands, peeling and chopping cabbage heads to bring back home to their families. Puy, a Grade 4 student, rushed me over to a row of cabbages that she and her classmates had planted. "<i>Kruu Saa-raa</i>, I planted this one," Puy announces proudly and proceeds to chop one of her cabbage heads that her mother will use for dinner later that evening.</div>
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Standing amongst the rows of cabbages, it's hard to believe that six months have already elapsed between the start of this project up until now. In August, this vegetable oasis was once just an abandoned area overrun by weeds and wood scraps. I can still remember the soreness of my palms from breaking up the soil under the afternoon sun, alongside Grade 5 students swinging their gardening hoes to mix the earth and swiftly ripping out weeds with their tiny hands. I smile at the memories of me in my rolled-up work pants and ballet flats sinking into the mud, later trailing caked-up mud into the classroom with my students as we talk about the variety of seeds we will plant: <i>mah-kua-yao</i> (eggplant) for a green-curry lunch in the cafeteria, <i>prik</i> (chilies) for a batch of <i>nam prik</i> (chili paste) to dip sticky rice into, and <i>dteng-gwa</i> (cucumbers) to slice up and snack on in between classes.</div>
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As I continue to wander down the garden rows with the students, I notice Grade 5 student Anna cradling a cabbage head in her arms as she slowly peels away its dark green leaves. My mind flashes back to an image of Anna standing in that same area six months ago, only with her hands gripped around the handle of a gardening hoe almost as tall as she was, with Anna's shyness overcome by her giggles after she accidentally flung a worm in my direction while breaking up the soil. My random burst of laughter at this memory catches Anna's attention, as she looks up from her cabbage head and asks me what's so funny. "<i>Mai bpen rai</i> (no worries)," I tell Anna, who then giggles at me before offering me her freshly-peeled cabbage head to take home for my dinner.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKY8RxL1o4RQlFEMQBpXgXi-LjXyzEYHzK51N60QYYFiRGifPr0nB8U2-MP0zIMbc-tTBEcwNgbhOjVLVubb_Xlp1VqfJQciMPHhtN7L0JoEhP5O6RP7H43brfSCPPbymSlE2vrDZNz-E/s1600/Cabbage+patch+before.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKY8RxL1o4RQlFEMQBpXgXi-LjXyzEYHzK51N60QYYFiRGifPr0nB8U2-MP0zIMbc-tTBEcwNgbhOjVLVubb_Xlp1VqfJQciMPHhtN7L0JoEhP5O6RP7H43brfSCPPbymSlE2vrDZNz-E/s1600/Cabbage+patch+before.png" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">August 2013: the students and I break up the soil and pick out weeds in the school's backyard in preparation for a community garden.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVHthkHFwWWH9oKBtLY_EkFYhYjLM89e3IeCqtjLKY-Utx4f_WTHB4whAQ60__Z9hpXf3QeEecW5DPGeXs9UOMb304kvfgvxZV5z6sgzc-tzYVGVgQiXd1fTDKvQDuNoyPPfBVaKZeyo/s1600/cabbage+patch-after.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVHthkHFwWWH9oKBtLY_EkFYhYjLM89e3IeCqtjLKY-Utx4f_WTHB4whAQ60__Z9hpXf3QeEecW5DPGeXs9UOMb304kvfgvxZV5z6sgzc-tzYVGVgQiXd1fTDKvQDuNoyPPfBVaKZeyo/s1600/cabbage+patch-after.png" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">February 2014: Rows of cabbages fill up the school's backyard, where students can pick vegetables to share with their families for meals and market sales</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUAR18-46A814sDIbANJmMlkj0qzZDk8W-U7L0tncMR-KKtSqKVFwcidociGVeCyt1T5w5sEzSYqs4uSSycl46kCTVpye3e-424IqOu1cYGA3BJJ2f3ch6LMV5ScGp4YJ4sr38gkfyRVk/s1600/cabbage+patch-anna.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUAR18-46A814sDIbANJmMlkj0qzZDk8W-U7L0tncMR-KKtSqKVFwcidociGVeCyt1T5w5sEzSYqs4uSSycl46kCTVpye3e-424IqOu1cYGA3BJJ2f3ch6LMV5ScGp4YJ4sr38gkfyRVk/s1600/cabbage+patch-anna.png" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Grade 5 students Anna and Nook helping with afternoon gardening in August; Anna peeling away the leaves of a cabbage head from a row her class planted in November</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-2730206725385940252014-02-07T13:14:00.006+07:002014-02-07T13:15:17.533+07:00PCT Photo Diary: Phu Chi Fa and Doi Pha TangSome snapshots from last weekend's day trip to Phu Chi Fa and Doi Pha Tang with fellow PCV Kayla and her counterparts! Many of my community members kept hassling me for not visiting one of Chiang Rai's tourist attractions, roughly 1.5 hours from my site and Kayla's site by car. However, the main battle was finding people willing to go to Phu Chi Fa Mountain with me, and last weekend's narrow and bumpy ride along the mountain range validated my counterparts' hesitancy towards making the trek. Despite the carsick-inducing truck ride towards Phu Chi Fa last Saturday, the strawberry hills, beautiful weather, and scenic views of Laos made the winding pot-holed roads more than worth the trip.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFluQwzFbHUazIsaNxJbVjEft9frFL6LPilfUgJeT5mBkPR8sFyIy85uzqDdFBvsmf4ZpCpl8d0e4u9PG0ZAvIU4sBu2LgJphyqq-F-Q_-kAUOKPRtFIuYvv1wGHEPphcQ0U8t-IVM2-Y/s1600/IMG_3721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFluQwzFbHUazIsaNxJbVjEft9frFL6LPilfUgJeT5mBkPR8sFyIy85uzqDdFBvsmf4ZpCpl8d0e4u9PG0ZAvIU4sBu2LgJphyqq-F-Q_-kAUOKPRtFIuYvv1wGHEPphcQ0U8t-IVM2-Y/s1600/IMG_3721.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Strawberry-picking farm on the way to Phu Chi Fa Mountain</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81vXu2mZClSEiXXdsyK7D5U2kccuqDN8Khsg5VUzA8vXnOSH5vXXir_5qciau9R3vlsWNuR5cLv-n3ZgxSgiNtPn0QXC_ZPHXJu7CLLqJGhZ_kINrkdiB7_04q2u-adWP8673-nFZUZE/s1600/IMG_3722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81vXu2mZClSEiXXdsyK7D5U2kccuqDN8Khsg5VUzA8vXnOSH5vXXir_5qciau9R3vlsWNuR5cLv-n3ZgxSgiNtPn0QXC_ZPHXJu7CLLqJGhZ_kINrkdiB7_04q2u-adWP8673-nFZUZE/s1600/IMG_3722.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Delicious strawberries are hard to come by at our sites, so Kayla and I each forked over 100 baht (USD $3, or 4 bowls of noodle soup) for a bag of this luxury item</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKtI_aMwi_Z4BZ3zgSYZjgXnzUaBA78NIv8CH5qv4PYnkwPRcLyQ2AUdZE5ZL25rRK5WyNcz8Ni2TfTj99lyS8l4Hay4zC2XSM-zLvd1943YxHaKJCm528s7NYNYt_7s8fYHubGcGDb4/s1600/IMG_3724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKtI_aMwi_Z4BZ3zgSYZjgXnzUaBA78NIv8CH5qv4PYnkwPRcLyQ2AUdZE5ZL25rRK5WyNcz8Ni2TfTj99lyS8l4Hay4zC2XSM-zLvd1943YxHaKJCm528s7NYNYt_7s8fYHubGcGDb4/s1600/IMG_3724.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The first of many bamboo-and-dirt staircases towards the top of Phu Chi Fa Mountain</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcSCEJO024aCf9ooWQyh5vfcOse6ubuJLe6ReA1rBUVnOEZmyknE4EswG-5pWjghcFyGR_pGNseJdabmTjufibGcoh-gGlpYZRQGhf-lnvrgGvYzsZjnI8Dj_sYbPiBj44V92UkQCiTg/s1600/IMG_3737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcSCEJO024aCf9ooWQyh5vfcOse6ubuJLe6ReA1rBUVnOEZmyknE4EswG-5pWjghcFyGR_pGNseJdabmTjufibGcoh-gGlpYZRQGhf-lnvrgGvYzsZjnI8Dj_sYbPiBj44V92UkQCiTg/s1600/IMG_3737.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">At and elevation of 1,628 meters, we made it to the top!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCl-QxaG4Raa02FH-4WqTzbVpYvFIZiZpXTq-I2ym8zigFs-dKUAu_Q4Z7y3v-30eMQ5j_A9N7y7b4UkW04DtX0xzRPfJ7Or-nCO_AeVmBdhBcXHvsmRAVDd2A7adXdGJxDUKItPAr0Y/s1600/IMG_3740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCl-QxaG4Raa02FH-4WqTzbVpYvFIZiZpXTq-I2ym8zigFs-dKUAu_Q4Z7y3v-30eMQ5j_A9N7y7b4UkW04DtX0xzRPfJ7Or-nCO_AeVmBdhBcXHvsmRAVDd2A7adXdGJxDUKItPAr0Y/s1600/IMG_3740.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Resting with Kayla and her counterparts before we head back down the mountain</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFmgDKKCHNgWBt7lmNUrUPKzekhwDYvpKEa-BexaW-zmk-_0rwLdZA_f3rNsq2ZHhJY5dQOumITZ7nAUv_BnGKHk2eKyD4vdOMahq6BslhhgCdVKLfF-UJVZ2AdCyKgfhlWwtlyovzD4/s1600/IMG_3744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFmgDKKCHNgWBt7lmNUrUPKzekhwDYvpKEa-BexaW-zmk-_0rwLdZA_f3rNsq2ZHhJY5dQOumITZ7nAUv_BnGKHk2eKyD4vdOMahq6BslhhgCdVKLfF-UJVZ2AdCyKgfhlWwtlyovzD4/s1600/IMG_3744.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Morning view of Laos from the top of Phu Chi Fa</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb4WQV9AKrYPotH0OsqIJBsufe0QtuSHRtsYB2ad4m-cLiRTy5Rve0RNjo2iKM73JUgHRu9EGjOOplLUnx5htbqY1YP77j_1uqPDK-3CWgfTt3AZ7vKIBp46Bc-aGI4n4Ik8-omRR45Y/s1600/IMG_3750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb4WQV9AKrYPotH0OsqIJBsufe0QtuSHRtsYB2ad4m-cLiRTy5Rve0RNjo2iKM73JUgHRu9EGjOOplLUnx5htbqY1YP77j_1uqPDK-3CWgfTt3AZ7vKIBp46Bc-aGI4n4Ik8-omRR45Y/s1600/IMG_3750.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Man vs. Wild: this buffalo wasn't keen on letting us pass, but we gathered up the courage to exit the vehicle and shoo it away (by "we", I mean one of Kayla's counterparts, while I took photos from inside and squealed when I thought the buffalo was going to charge at us)</span></td></tr>
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General Lee Memorial Pavillion (left), honoring an army general whose victories in the 1970s secured land surrounding Doi Pha Tang Mountain for the Thai people; Buddhist statue (right) for visitors to pay their respects to General Lee</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunWPbh_ZvKRTJcqXA3gZGrkYfFZ3nV4WnKtsT0xkUhKAPOjK6sofHcSn9p7-OsR6isXED2BNmKh7ElRMyWy1WxXVrnF8m3n0_ywINqG7qnXqiruAxWtQGRJT3k1uNk4H-QCeLzvbFSDo/s1600/IMG_3766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunWPbh_ZvKRTJcqXA3gZGrkYfFZ3nV4WnKtsT0xkUhKAPOjK6sofHcSn9p7-OsR6isXED2BNmKh7ElRMyWy1WxXVrnF8m3n0_ywINqG7qnXqiruAxWtQGRJT3k1uNk4H-QCeLzvbFSDo/s1600/IMG_3766.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Walking up a narrow dirt pathway along Doi Pha Tang</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWAhfVhejnD3a0qELYywuiGmIPktPU51TQd33xmL4IuIVfUDGgI4pdrWdWyq_5jW_TXkmK4vI8feqk8qeD4uZI77fbFUBH8fvu2Z5ioU9HUBRxz7Va-d2kQU2Az47mdfFI5BtJvfyGeg/s1600/IMG_3768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWAhfVhejnD3a0qELYywuiGmIPktPU51TQd33xmL4IuIVfUDGgI4pdrWdWyq_5jW_TXkmK4vI8feqk8qeD4uZI77fbFUBH8fvu2Z5ioU9HUBRxz7Va-d2kQU2Az47mdfFI5BtJvfyGeg/s1600/IMG_3768.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">View of the Mekong River splitting Thailand and Laos</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This guy had no issues venturing away from the pathway for an awesome photo opportunity</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A selection of fruit wines by a local vendor at Doi Pha Tang (due to the strawberry splurge, I settled for 30-baht bags of almonds and green tea leaves)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">View of Laos from across the Mekong River; so close!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a day of mountain adventures, making the most out of my strawberries and almonds. Oh Thai produce, how I'll miss you so...</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-20464458768426889512014-01-31T22:53:00.003+07:002014-02-01T23:05:38.334+07:00Ahaan Thai: Frogs for Dinner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Before I began my Peace Corps service in 2012, my history with frogs didn't seem out-of-the-ordinary: listening to "The Frog Prince" as a bedtime story, watching Kermit and the Muppets embark on Saturday-morning T.V. adventures, dissecting a frog in Biology class, and watching a Disney-remake of "The Frog Prince" years later to bring my frog associations full-circle. While the Food Network Channel introduced me to frog as an exotic food option instead of a high-school science experiment, I couldn't picture myself consuming a beloved Muppet character. A high-school-freshman version of myself resolved that the chances of me kissing a frog were higher than of me cooking up a frog for dinner.</div>
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Eight years later, and my ninth-grade self would be in utter disbelief of my dietary history with Kermit's kin (sorry, Muppets). Since arriving in Thailand almost two years ago, I have dipped balls of sticky rice in frog curries, grilled frogs over a fire pit, and have gone so far as to admit that frogs taste just like chicken -- and with the right amount of spice, possibly <i>better</i> than chicken. </div>
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My Peace-Corps self's verdict? Frogs dissected: meh. Frogs deep-fried and dipped in chili paste: yes, please.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0eIx1HI5geA_9Ljc0PCgw3kngbqG3XB6mWGOqv3MQgDTMw8KifnWhv41p9m5pWLaMVaYk4q0KdONeCgmM83jQ6ct1zZj-TR1SKoWNZ5AspLKNUBrTX5xClOqxV7I1Cx-XKVCJXbXo7o/s1600/frog+curry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0eIx1HI5geA_9Ljc0PCgw3kngbqG3XB6mWGOqv3MQgDTMw8KifnWhv41p9m5pWLaMVaYk4q0KdONeCgmM83jQ6ct1zZj-TR1SKoWNZ5AspLKNUBrTX5xClOqxV7I1Cx-XKVCJXbXo7o/s1600/frog+curry.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">From top going clockwise: <i>geng gop </i>(frog curry), bamboo shoots, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>nam phrik </i>(chili paste), <i>khao niao</i> (sticky rice)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-QdJUeXyFK1SRH8uT3_5wIO6XmDBc5hndvCikn98NC2mHMwu_m6KwUCO1_0mAEclqfAL9ggUfmmXaG9r0v_Qv9f5ZHqWBaLUWWGQna-UlEYRIcDyVXbv1SXDq8Uw1OfFOW1X351A27w/s1600/grilled+frog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-QdJUeXyFK1SRH8uT3_5wIO6XmDBc5hndvCikn98NC2mHMwu_m6KwUCO1_0mAEclqfAL9ggUfmmXaG9r0v_Qv9f5ZHqWBaLUWWGQna-UlEYRIcDyVXbv1SXDq8Uw1OfFOW1X351A27w/s1600/grilled+frog.png" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Grilled frog with nam phrik and fresh vegetables; one of the frogs</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">during a post-harvest barbecue</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Battered-and-fried frogs at a local market in Mae Sai</span></td></tr>
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<i>**I actually haven't tried the fried frogs, due to imagining these poor things leaping for their lives mid-frying. As soon as I get Kermit's singing out of my head, I will attempt to try this and report back to you all.</i></div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-31443163302416451462014-01-27T12:58:00.004+07:002014-01-27T13:05:03.264+07:00Kwang-Hunting Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last September, my landlord's nephew <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/07/meet-get-chai.html" target="_blank">Get</a> invited me to hunt for <i>kwang</i> (beetles) with him and his uncle. According to Get, August and September mark <i>kwang</i>-hunting season, since the beetles are easy to locate in rotting trees as rainy season comes to an end. What Get forgets to mention, however, is that many people in Northern Thailand will wake up as early as 4 A.M. to cut open rotting trees and capture as many <i>kwang</i> as possible before the sun rises. Following <i>kwang</i>-hunting protocol, I trade in a Saturday morning of sleeping-in for being knee-deep in grass and mud at 5:30 A.M., with Get's uncle slashing through dead tree trunks with his machete and Get stripping off tree bark before handing me several black rhinoceros beetles to throw into our rice sack. By 7 A.M., I return to my house exhausted and in mud-splattered pajama pants, wondering if these hard-to-find <i>kwang </i>contain strong healing powers or taste delicious deep-fried.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP5wLUsINyaiUARoYWp8MznxtilfUyvIQ-6kShxgiy82JM4B8HogKnrWjMQ-5fhvLDFaodBLZA0tiZGedVH_yqT8KC2pgUm0hz2lgYbXSjRNtMSn4q4XiH6pxhF5zmntI5roVS7qbddFM/s1600/Beetle_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP5wLUsINyaiUARoYWp8MznxtilfUyvIQ-6kShxgiy82JM4B8HogKnrWjMQ-5fhvLDFaodBLZA0tiZGedVH_yqT8KC2pgUm0hz2lgYbXSjRNtMSn4q4XiH6pxhF5zmntI5roVS7qbddFM/s1600/Beetle_1.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Securing the <i>kwang </i>with yarn to a piece of sugar cane</span></td></tr>
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After breakfast with Get's family (no deep-fried <i>kwang</i> included), Get and his cousin <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/04/meet-yem.html" target="_blank">Yem</a> spend the rest of the morning stringing up the<i> kwang</i> to sugar cane stalks and hanging the <i>kwang</i> along the ceiling of our shared backyard. Yem, who is gnawing on freshly-peeled sugar cane, hands me a piece and exclaims in between chews, "<i>Kwang chop nam-tan!</i>" ("Beetles love sugar!") Get then explains that the sugar will make the <i>kwang</i> very strong and helps them move quickly along the sugar cane stalk. When I ask Get if he collects these <i>kwang</i> as pets every September, he shakes his head "no" and replies that they will take care of the <i>kwang</i> for a week before selling them to the villagers. At our village, each <i>kwang</i> can sell for as much as 50 baht (USD $1.50), which guarantees Get at least three ice cream bars from the local convenience store.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The almighty kwang, fueling up on sugar and<br />
preparing for battle</td></tr>
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I'm still unclear about the importance of the rhinoceros <i>kwang</i> until my landlord Meh Kam warns me to stay away from the upcoming beetle fights in our village. Apparently, the villagers will purchase the rhino <i>kwang</i> and train them for beetle-fighting season, during which people will place bets on which <i>kwang</i> will knock over its opponent off of a wooden log. I can't help but laugh at the image of Thai farmers and village leaders gathering around a wooden stick and cheering on two beetles going head-to-head on a Friday night, but Meh Kam assures me that these fights draw in a lot of crazy <i>nak-pah-nan</i> (gamblers), causing people to either win a lot or lose a lot more by the end of September. I have yet to witness a battle of the <i>kwang</i>, since the other village mothers agree with my landlord that <i>kwang</i> fighting rings are no place for ladies on the weekends (because nothing says "danger" like watching two beetles push each other off of a log). Until the time comes for me to take a walk on the wild side, I'll have to live vicariously through this intense YouTube clip of a Thai beetle vs. beetle showdown:<br />
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-50576875457925513532014-01-08T13:30:00.001+07:002014-01-08T13:37:05.724+07:00Rice Harvests and Tennis Balls: A Hmong New Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Ne and Tan, two of my secondary school students from English Tour Guides Club, invited me to their village for the last day of Hmong New Year festivities. When Kruu Keng and I arrive Sunday afternoon after a bumpy 1.5-hour drive across the mountains, Ne and Tan smile and talk excitedly as they walk us around their neighborhood, introduce us to their families and share with us a part of their lives outside of school.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfejJ76dczATEh_H8oSbg5A7Loib021Jb2o7jkN7pXfTgcaN3lKzU0mAMnNd6bY9qe-pZbZ7YewfOM157jZZnp-BLQ73SVdq_2uYgrpKsZlWJpRIqKB_SpekmVeRpdF0sjIDyR279ffx4/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfejJ76dczATEh_H8oSbg5A7Loib021Jb2o7jkN7pXfTgcaN3lKzU0mAMnNd6bY9qe-pZbZ7YewfOM157jZZnp-BLQ73SVdq_2uYgrpKsZlWJpRIqKB_SpekmVeRpdF0sjIDyR279ffx4/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+5.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a>When the four of us arrive at Tan's house, Tan's father, grandmother, cousins and siblings (with Tan being the youngest of eight) graciously welcome us into their home with boiled pork, stir-fried kale, and chili-vinegar sauce for Kruu Keng and I to <i>gin kaao hai iim</i> (eat rice until we're full). Tan's father, a Hmong village leader and rice farmer, explains that the Hmong New Year is a 10-day celebration in which the smaller Hmong clans come together after the end of the rice harvest from late-December until early-January. "We had a good harvest this year," Tan's father boasts proudly. "<i>Gin kaao hai iim!</i>" Assuming that Tan's family harvests sticky rice, I open up my rice packet to grab a piece only to have a handful of rice crumble and spill over my plate. Ne, who is sitting next to me and witnesses the whole thing, pats my shoulder sympathetically and giggles, while Tan's father jokingly adds, "<i>Kruu Saa-raa </i><i>hun-gah-ree mak mak</i>!"</div>
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After an hour of food, conversations, and rice clean-up (yes, I made the sticky-rice mistake more than once), Ne and Tan change into traditional Hmong clothing before we walk down the street for the New Year festivities at a nearby school. When I ask Ne and Tan about the different Hmong outfits, Ne tells me that an individual's outfit design shows which Hmong clan that person is from. Since Ne and Tan's village consists of <i>Hmong Daew </i>("White Hmong") people, a common Hmong outfit will consist of a white-colored shirt and bottom, each embroidered with colorful cross-stitched designs and accessorized with silver to display the wealth and prosperity of an individual's family. However, since Ne's family is of the <i>Hmong Gua Mba </i>("Armband Hmong") sub-division, she is dressed in a black outfit with colorfully embroidered bands along the sleeves of her jacket. When I ask Tan which Hmong clan her pink outfit represents, Tan laughs and replies, "Oh no, I wear this because I like the color pink!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVuhZH3IqFpXqw2jLIZBvQ4hqv6V_6_3nrLUmFMDUf3FJU9NGxUPlhAHugsX9U-0CJcIygXumdScRdtmHiLsQApStpOD_RG-Tsto5lhTICF8jXWssjlJOUbiVx-LvVq4MT6lIWRzatQko/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVuhZH3IqFpXqw2jLIZBvQ4hqv6V_6_3nrLUmFMDUf3FJU9NGxUPlhAHugsX9U-0CJcIygXumdScRdtmHiLsQApStpOD_RG-Tsto5lhTICF8jXWssjlJOUbiVx-LvVq4MT6lIWRzatQko/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+1.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUH1-HXr4RkVCZVJRcZolNj3NhYGxvHH-hL6TcshPg08zRDGavhI7J18xiVVB3lHZB3IHRmLGRJL_GiQzjfn_7g8f_FzjPGmsv970FYiDIz8T6XZkQpE968sEBYJDGrISNin5tvL5zhI/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUH1-HXr4RkVCZVJRcZolNj3NhYGxvHH-hL6TcshPg08zRDGavhI7J18xiVVB3lHZB3IHRmLGRJL_GiQzjfn_7g8f_FzjPGmsv970FYiDIz8T6XZkQpE968sEBYJDGrISNin5tvL5zhI/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+4.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">T</span><i>wo secondary school students dressed in White Hmong outfits;</i></div>
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<i>Ne (black outfit), </i><i>Tan (pink outfit), and I across the street from a local school</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKhqIRXVN8DsSxc8gxj6zAKewPPfxL5GxAbljscWEUniKbGUF4pnBvmEQvFoi2ojXMUpdUyeeQaehe1BTxyGw7TFI7TSbfW7QL4LttEPBT7cheksIx8iMpBTLZ6MZcG7ImlXoih-WSzQ/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKhqIRXVN8DsSxc8gxj6zAKewPPfxL5GxAbljscWEUniKbGUF4pnBvmEQvFoi2ojXMUpdUyeeQaehe1BTxyGw7TFI7TSbfW7QL4LttEPBT7cheksIx8iMpBTLZ6MZcG7ImlXoih-WSzQ/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+2.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a>When we reach the local school's soccer field, there are two rows of people dressed in their Hmong outfits and throwing tennis balls back and forth. Trying to figure out the goal of the game, I ask Tan how one becomes the <i>cha-nat</i> (winner), she laughs and tells me that it is just an activity that village members participate in to pass the time. Kruu Keng adds that the ball-tossing activity is a way for village members of different clans to socialize with each other during the Hmong New Year festivities.</div>
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I ask Ne and Tan if we can play the ball-tossing conversation game, and sure enough, Tan has a tennis ball handy in her purse. Saint, one of their friends who is visiting from Bangkok for the weekend, comes over and asks Tan if she'd like to toss the ball with him. She giggles and insists that Saint throws the ball to me instead.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN2ih7BUqIuXgxRHq3F1Deu1HRfcyTDQZf9uGHnXF86duKdJcNI3tbdUnyMZMbyB3c0Q6pudap4_zDqgObPHcldYTMqAifp3lrJttvTVH9Zx24XEW4cJ-kiVlSdbUpGVqfZkOErxYMlpY/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN2ih7BUqIuXgxRHq3F1Deu1HRfcyTDQZf9uGHnXF86duKdJcNI3tbdUnyMZMbyB3c0Q6pudap4_zDqgObPHcldYTMqAifp3lrJttvTVH9Zx24XEW4cJ-kiVlSdbUpGVqfZkOErxYMlpY/s1600/Hmong+New+Year+-+3.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a>Initially, I'm confused as to why Saint is shy to throw a tennis ball to me: it's a conversation starter that's supposed to ease the tension! As we join the end of the two rows and begin passing the tennis ball, I look around and notice the dynamics of the group: girls stand in one row, giggling underneath their umbrellas as they toss tennis balls to the boys across the way, who are nudging their buddies and joking around. And then it dawns on me: they're <i>flirting </i>with each other. This ball-tossing game is a way for boys and girls to interact, and Saint was trying to get to know Tan, who sneakily passed him off to me instead! I think my awkward realization was apparent by my facial expression, because a laughing Kruu Keng comes over to join our ball-toss, with a giggling Ne and bashful Tan joining us a minute later.</div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-13720315668594982672014-01-06T22:29:00.002+07:002014-01-06T22:35:02.578+07:00Ahaan Thai: Cucumber and Egg Stir-Fry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eMqFTNIZOGnnu2VjZ2wmbqOjzRKE_OaWjzq5psZjj_UkQlwgcjO6DYDR3jAenhE2Elt5f3bs3ke7PhfqUex9XHtUvXzoW_M1gRgSS12CqgUEsEOKbqDxjkWKCyZOKyhTzVC_Tn8YUWE/s1600/egg-cucumber-stirfry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eMqFTNIZOGnnu2VjZ2wmbqOjzRKE_OaWjzq5psZjj_UkQlwgcjO6DYDR3jAenhE2Elt5f3bs3ke7PhfqUex9XHtUvXzoW_M1gRgSS12CqgUEsEOKbqDxjkWKCyZOKyhTzVC_Tn8YUWE/s1600/egg-cucumber-stirfry.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
When my Grade 9 student and neighbor Nuch made this dish for me two years ago, I was a little skeptical of the ingredients she pulled out of my refrigerator and kitchen cabinets: eggs, cucumbers, soy sauce, oyster sauce. Nuch, who noticed my confused glances towards the ingredients, laughed and said, "<i>Mai bpen rai</i> (No worries), this will be very delicious!" While I had been familiar with these ingredients in separate entities - scrambled eggs, cucumber salads, soy sauce and oyster sauce over dumplings - the thought of these ingredients co-existing on one plate seemed unusual. However, I smiled nervously and gave Nuch free reign of my kitchen.<br />
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Just as Nuch promised, I had nothing to worry about: the sound of sliced cucumbers and minced garlic sizzling in the wok woke up my appetite, while the sight of eggs quickly scrambled into the cucumbers left me anticipating for Nuch's final additions of soy sauce, oyster sauce, and sugar over the cucumber-and-egg scramble. After dishing out the stir-fry on top of two plates of rice, Nuch presented the meal onto my bamboo mat and announced, "<i>Chim do!</i>" (Taste!) After one bite, I was sold: the crispiness of the cucumbers and the softness of the eggs brought together by the salty-and-sweet combination of sauces and sugar. "<i>Aroi mak</i> (Very delicious)," I exclaimed with a mouthful of stir-fry and rice, while Nuch smiles, already knowing that this meal would become my go-to breakfast, lunch and dinner for the duration of my two-year stay in Chiang Rai.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvcaov_wMd5T2ng_HGz_ewGLZTmdWXfJgeofsBQGrnjF8HsTAGMGWhNM1ywchGrvPCqaAD-bhPRa5_TmK0yJSke9psAWBIciarsPTFIBhuDUoM8lvqQMnB49hTCzL9xPL6Cyl9MF3r1U/s1600/egg-cucumber-stirfry2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvcaov_wMd5T2ng_HGz_ewGLZTmdWXfJgeofsBQGrnjF8HsTAGMGWhNM1ywchGrvPCqaAD-bhPRa5_TmK0yJSke9psAWBIciarsPTFIBhuDUoM8lvqQMnB49hTCzL9xPL6Cyl9MF3r1U/s1600/egg-cucumber-stirfry2.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<b>Cucumber and Egg Stir-Fry</b><br />
(<i>Source: <a href="http://thefuriouspearpie.wordpress.com/2013/05/30/cucumber-and-egg-stir-fry-%E0%B9%81%E0%B8%95%E0%B8%87%E0%B8%81%E0%B8%A7%E0%B8%B2%E0%B8%9C%E0%B8%B1%E0%B8%94%E0%B9%84%E0%B8%82%E0%B9%88/" target="_blank">The Furious Pear Pie</a></i>)<br />
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Ingredients:<br />
*Half a large cucumber, peeled<br />
*3 tbsp cooking oil<br />
*1 tbsp minced garlic<br />
*2 large eggs<br />
*1 tbsp oyster sauce<br />
*1 tbsp soy sauce<br />
*1 tsp granulated white sugar<br />
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<br />
<ul>
<li>Cut the cucumber in half lengthwise, then thinly slice each length of the cucumber.</li>
<li>Set a large wok over medium-high heat. Once the wok is warm, add the oil.</li>
<li>Once the oil is warm, add the sliced cucumbers and minced garlic, stir-frying constantly until the cucumber slices are slightly translucent and can be easily pierced through with a knife (5 minutes).</li>
<li>Once cooked, clear a gap in the center of the cucumber slices with a spatula and crack the eggs into the center. Roughly mix the eggs and whites with the spatula before mixing cucumbers into the eggs until the eggs scrambled and cooked through.</li>
<li>Turn off the heat, then add the oyster sauce, soy sauce, and sugar. Serve with rice and enjoy!</li>
</ul>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-48780830442381341082013-12-31T16:45:00.000+07:002014-01-06T21:10:54.487+07:00PCT Photo Diary: 12 Months of PC Thailand<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNs4s_USNsYOFVB575jI2G5y3lc3qCoO0CX-yf2eX4jzFsYgR3RpC7DKf9zovMRppEcAXZlQOlpW5s5cmtLro9wZTgWXhmQg04UYWqc7rT1J4G-PMA_Mp-Mpt7KEmuCl0VvAKmYUp81XY/s1600/2013-01.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNs4s_USNsYOFVB575jI2G5y3lc3qCoO0CX-yf2eX4jzFsYgR3RpC7DKf9zovMRppEcAXZlQOlpW5s5cmtLro9wZTgWXhmQg04UYWqc7rT1J4G-PMA_Mp-Mpt7KEmuCl0VvAKmYUp81XY/s1600/2013-01.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">PC Group 125 arrives for Pre-Service Training!</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyGx8vhPiKl9TQKg6LLcXt8ZGsfyvSIs2RQOdQ64CifMpSrfSI9H11AikuAZnoQ92Zk8PpZwnuY1J09b9LulL69nieoj_w_4HE351L3rSp_xSPQ9VzAEwtNHG6QzqdtdzIJamv5z2FMo/s1600/2013-02.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyGx8vhPiKl9TQKg6LLcXt8ZGsfyvSIs2RQOdQ64CifMpSrfSI9H11AikuAZnoQ92Zk8PpZwnuY1J09b9LulL69nieoj_w_4HE351L3rSp_xSPQ9VzAEwtNHG6QzqdtdzIJamv5z2FMo/s1600/2013-02.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/02/candy-cards-condoms-and-cucumbers.html" target="_blank">Candy, cards, and condoms</a>: a Valentine's Day health fair</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZ9fREOHQPtw6yKDfR9sQRnb-E9QHG4ZTSRp1JHxijCKVqlCNdKWHz_jw0yrzRZ9w9Bslp9ezwA4iY6yC5Xwz5sD0R_9qvDoeeqIyVmZXhRTTDFiOwnYJU3G4JMPFvHcBb2GOSSP-rt8/s1600/2013-03.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZ9fREOHQPtw6yKDfR9sQRnb-E9QHG4ZTSRp1JHxijCKVqlCNdKWHz_jw0yrzRZ9w9Bslp9ezwA4iY6yC5Xwz5sD0R_9qvDoeeqIyVmZXhRTTDFiOwnYJU3G4JMPFvHcBb2GOSSP-rt8/s1600/2013-03.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wrapping up the school year with <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-tree-of-compliments.html" target="_blank">a tree of compliments</a> *congrats, Grade 6!*</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pgKYVYFC5RSb_plaVLCqKlSGRCNuXeXZA37mSqD0EpFYG8eN7G9ux2cGpjGAeGyXcyK9lvs6O5KNPe8keBGsKQ3Ouk7Rv4_Y4_D3fL80FMFASSTEsQKE6HS96A_soAv4ZTHY1LMHme4/s1600/2013-04.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pgKYVYFC5RSb_plaVLCqKlSGRCNuXeXZA37mSqD0EpFYG8eN7G9ux2cGpjGAeGyXcyK9lvs6O5KNPe8keBGsKQ3Ouk7Rv4_Y4_D3fL80FMFASSTEsQKE6HS96A_soAv4ZTHY1LMHme4/s1600/2013-04.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A Songkran Festival of water fights in Chiang Mai with PC friends</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB7Ack4HLngUDukgGQYZpTKoNKF7hGOSbe1DM84P3JzC-MzKELlWqOZxvIiNNJa7oqQ2yclMv_xIOAnz3uENFCd4TC4RW7u6Yui683o6Pum4k2T9gJ8Sh_pDQaaRhmD2FBMSa-mJFpjE/s1600/2013-05.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB7Ack4HLngUDukgGQYZpTKoNKF7hGOSbe1DM84P3JzC-MzKELlWqOZxvIiNNJa7oqQ2yclMv_xIOAnz3uENFCd4TC4RW7u6Yui683o6Pum4k2T9gJ8Sh_pDQaaRhmD2FBMSa-mJFpjE/s1600/2013-05.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The first of many <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/07/wednesdays-with-ban-chompoo-primary.html" target="_blank">Wednesdays with Ban Chompoo Primary School</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjloMWzoBwScQEOlswlJlAO8fGreh7HWv91h7Cve10rUveXeEpT3iTO5cf9lilo1jDPNDb2HiTAPRrrXASRFQJFpP_khzM76FPXd9fSIg1fb8VJSIsej6Woz4UAniBbxmtarDzZSeVmOPM/s1600/2013-06.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjloMWzoBwScQEOlswlJlAO8fGreh7HWv91h7Cve10rUveXeEpT3iTO5cf9lilo1jDPNDb2HiTAPRrrXASRFQJFpP_khzM76FPXd9fSIg1fb8VJSIsej6Woz4UAniBbxmtarDzZSeVmOPM/s1600/2013-06.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/08/twenty-three-in-thailand.html" target="_blank">Twenty-three in Thailand</a></span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOyIVBl6oMEQjdSD3WcXioL2yLM1Bor9Nj5sNv_oKnGMmtJ90GbLTQJwvYAXeK6gC2QE6U12lvCDMoG7qFxymWaF8gcel_dv5FmooHBUv-H66VriXf9ecN1v3GwpSNLEWWviEYyRJIGmk/s1600/2013-07.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOyIVBl6oMEQjdSD3WcXioL2yLM1Bor9Nj5sNv_oKnGMmtJ90GbLTQJwvYAXeK6gC2QE6U12lvCDMoG7qFxymWaF8gcel_dv5FmooHBUv-H66VriXf9ecN1v3GwpSNLEWWviEYyRJIGmk/s1600/2013-07.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The community comes together for some <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/07/big-flood-happy-fish.html" target="_blank">flood-and-fish control</a></span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CBnnTqoAoqkWNXryPmIH_2Kl6oMAEIxZt4ONxz4C8lEy4MDkST83axY4FyWSbhUXXhQjwpS0nL2Xe9jFHyl4cQkQQdkNlW88sstm60QiTOCp9ezPl4dcuzvzjltXInykk13yNjcXOq8/s1600/2013-08.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CBnnTqoAoqkWNXryPmIH_2Kl6oMAEIxZt4ONxz4C8lEy4MDkST83axY4FyWSbhUXXhQjwpS0nL2Xe9jFHyl4cQkQQdkNlW88sstm60QiTOCp9ezPl4dcuzvzjltXInykk13yNjcXOq8/s1600/2013-08.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Meeting the other <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/07/blog-it-home_26.html" target="_blank">Blog It Home</a> winners at the <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/09/bringing-it-home-third-goal.html" target="_blank">Third Goal Mobilization Summit in Washington, D.C.</a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6hVHaPC0dgY4KQkLvxICE4wN3OcEjKY_BeYoaatrFDJmqIcKLSO1TpstE3zeHvxmE24EWiaZjlc9W6NvPqXZGJh1LAp75Rx4ZhZyuTSI2EieU-fnXOIUIEov2c2yTzt91hT5Iep6IO4/s1600/2013-09.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6hVHaPC0dgY4KQkLvxICE4wN3OcEjKY_BeYoaatrFDJmqIcKLSO1TpstE3zeHvxmE24EWiaZjlc9W6NvPqXZGJh1LAp75Rx4ZhZyuTSI2EieU-fnXOIUIEov2c2yTzt91hT5Iep6IO4/s1600/2013-09.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/10/student-friendly-schools-small-steps.html" target="_blank">Student-Friendly Schools: Small Steps, Big Changes</a></span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbCuvORYNu6fzVesiqj0WHPJmxdvnOc7BBZ7yvQ9aUyPG_AtTsdz08Hd1E9z0ObsRA_xiJv1vhTFb-9XYKP95cD5OA1rxA8TMzlpylMsJABWBXEEERgpEpKPkKxAr9EvetLMPeZDuE7A/s1600/2013-10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbCuvORYNu6fzVesiqj0WHPJmxdvnOc7BBZ7yvQ9aUyPG_AtTsdz08Hd1E9z0ObsRA_xiJv1vhTFb-9XYKP95cD5OA1rxA8TMzlpylMsJABWBXEEERgpEpKPkKxAr9EvetLMPeZDuE7A/s1600/2013-10.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">These crafty Grades 4 through 6 students take on <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/11/beaded-babble-job-well-done-and-more-to.html" target="_blank">a 150-bracelet order</a> for an English camp in Chiang Mai; great work, kids!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsFAxHuFrTzi5IJVBAV8pPM0rJvPoxuFTSeNn-a_9wTBvhpUsr4mrp8q0JzoTqIYeF3M9o8Zeo5b4Hq2oDrPgkv92VfRMx0K2Y5UyfOsfX8ixKGQ3Ngujcm61OPP2NCTNqqm_QDDiRe4/s1600/2013-11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsFAxHuFrTzi5IJVBAV8pPM0rJvPoxuFTSeNn-a_9wTBvhpUsr4mrp8q0JzoTqIYeF3M9o8Zeo5b4Hq2oDrPgkv92VfRMx0K2Y5UyfOsfX8ixKGQ3Ngujcm61OPP2NCTNqqm_QDDiRe4/s1600/2013-11.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Banana boats and rice paper lanterns: <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/11/pct-photo-diary-loy-krathong-traditions.html" target="_blank">Loy Krathong traditions</a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfMj-m8Rzfx2ve2wY7Z68Fz6PYOiZxWFFpfepzie4EfPgPLw69YOIaMJXopNN9HkQIgbAVPtVCHt08uclfm5o6B5PHp2V3acyGSQlN204mPmATrDFjQrA5TvcbRh-iI5snBHXfJZnhP0/s1600/2013-12.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfMj-m8Rzfx2ve2wY7Z68Fz6PYOiZxWFFpfepzie4EfPgPLw69YOIaMJXopNN9HkQIgbAVPtVCHt08uclfm5o6B5PHp2V3acyGSQlN204mPmATrDFjQrA5TvcbRh-iI5snBHXfJZnhP0/s1600/2013-12.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wrapping up 2013 with <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/12/getting-crafty-deck-halls-with-paper.html" target="_blank">eco-friendly Christmas activities</a> at the local secondary school</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's to a new year of new adventures. Happy 2014, everyone!</span></div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-7179577297078672432013-12-28T12:50:00.001+07:002013-12-28T13:09:38.938+07:00Getting Crafty: Deck The Halls With Paper & Plastic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8NLurvan3FzabvhNMkOlMLPoN1kl0mB6SE_TcN8bFJRdKhx0c7f3gYNo1ea7uzyxEUHOWZ8bIjEO7nB36c3yZITD7I3KvGfQVoIxAVJS457x08OQNY2I9Nwq9oG0iaY3ESFKEUqENLEE/s1600/paper+stockings.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8NLurvan3FzabvhNMkOlMLPoN1kl0mB6SE_TcN8bFJRdKhx0c7f3gYNo1ea7uzyxEUHOWZ8bIjEO7nB36c3yZITD7I3KvGfQVoIxAVJS457x08OQNY2I9Nwq9oG0iaY3ESFKEUqENLEE/s320/paper+stockings.png" width="237" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Recycled Paper Stockings</span></b><br />
At <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/07/wednesdays-with-ban-chompoo-primary.html" target="_blank">Ban Chompoo Primary School</a>, the 4th through 6th grade students were fascinated by the Christmas tradition of hanging up <i>tung-tao yai</i> (big socks) for family, friends, and Santa to stuff with presents. Since we couldn't find socks big enough for the holidays, the students and I spent last week making our own stockings using printer paper, magazine paper, and ribbon. The students cut up magazine paper into triangles and stars to paste eco-friendly Christmas trees, as well as drew colorful holiday images based on our Christmas vocabulary lesson (e.g. lights; snowflake; snowman). By the end of the week, all 30 students had colorful and crafty stockings for Santa to stuff with fun pencils, erasers, and candy canes!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebRZfh8-oDRCRJAuQn6YULnFugzVErlUKDUEOe0G_o8SKciyi4NnMvxYE-xhq-rebWuEZTGqpfiA-nuX5FfL-0AXaEjsyyjb-k4nCAx-6t4H1HLQlFFkGC8njdT1P8o1RY7VIIDdFNWE/s1600/bottle+cap+snowmen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebRZfh8-oDRCRJAuQn6YULnFugzVErlUKDUEOe0G_o8SKciyi4NnMvxYE-xhq-rebWuEZTGqpfiA-nuX5FfL-0AXaEjsyyjb-k4nCAx-6t4H1HLQlFFkGC8njdT1P8o1RY7VIIDdFNWE/s1600/bottle+cap+snowmen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebRZfh8-oDRCRJAuQn6YULnFugzVErlUKDUEOe0G_o8SKciyi4NnMvxYE-xhq-rebWuEZTGqpfiA-nuX5FfL-0AXaEjsyyjb-k4nCAx-6t4H1HLQlFFkGC8njdT1P8o1RY7VIIDdFNWE/s320/bottle+cap+snowmen.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebRZfh8-oDRCRJAuQn6YULnFugzVErlUKDUEOe0G_o8SKciyi4NnMvxYE-xhq-rebWuEZTGqpfiA-nuX5FfL-0AXaEjsyyjb-k4nCAx-6t4H1HLQlFFkGC8njdT1P8o1RY7VIIDdFNWE/s1600/bottle+cap+snowmen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebRZfh8-oDRCRJAuQn6YULnFugzVErlUKDUEOe0G_o8SKciyi4NnMvxYE-xhq-rebWuEZTGqpfiA-nuX5FfL-0AXaEjsyyjb-k4nCAx-6t4H1HLQlFFkGC8njdT1P8o1RY7VIIDdFNWE/s1600/bottle+cap+snowmen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebRZfh8-oDRCRJAuQn6YULnFugzVErlUKDUEOe0G_o8SKciyi4NnMvxYE-xhq-rebWuEZTGqpfiA-nuX5FfL-0AXaEjsyyjb-k4nCAx-6t4H1HLQlFFkGC8njdT1P8o1RY7VIIDdFNWE/s1600/bottle+cap+snowmen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebRZfh8-oDRCRJAuQn6YULnFugzVErlUKDUEOe0G_o8SKciyi4NnMvxYE-xhq-rebWuEZTGqpfiA-nuX5FfL-0AXaEjsyyjb-k4nCAx-6t4H1HLQlFFkGC8njdT1P8o1RY7VIIDdFNWE/s1600/bottle+cap+snowmen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebRZfh8-oDRCRJAuQn6YULnFugzVErlUKDUEOe0G_o8SKciyi4NnMvxYE-xhq-rebWuEZTGqpfiA-nuX5FfL-0AXaEjsyyjb-k4nCAx-6t4H1HLQlFFkGC8njdT1P8o1RY7VIIDdFNWE/s1600/bottle+cap+snowmen.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Bottle Cap Snowman Ornaments</span></b><br />
To raise awareness about recycling, Yang Hom Wittayakom Secondary School's Student Council and Environment Club came up with eco-friendly Christmas activities for this week's New Year's Eve party. My co-teacher Kruu Keng and I came across <a href="http://www.oneartsymama.com/2012/11/bottle-cap-snowman-ornaments.html" target="_blank">this easy snowman ornaments tutorial</a> that allowed us to take advantage of the school's plethora of soda caps (an activity on healthy foods may be in order for 2014). While we did not have colorful string and buttons for our snowmen's scarves, several students made the most of our magazine piles to create colorful accessories for our cute and crafty ornaments! Now all we needed was a tree to hang these on...<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Plastic Bottle Christmas Tree</span></b><br />
When I shared <a href="http://collegelifediy.com/2011/12/13/diy-beer-bottle-christmas-tree/#.Ur5cdmQW3IZ" target="_blank">a DIY bottle Christmas tree tutorial</a> with Kruu Keng and the Student Council members this month, the idea was met with a mix of my co-teacher's never-ending enthusiasm towards unconventional projects and the students groans at the thought of sorting through used bottles from the garbage bins. However, this week filled Kruu Keng's classroom with boxes of plastic bottles and dozens of students eager to cut, paste, and assemble materials for our recycled crafts project (chocolate cupcakes may or may not have been used as an incentive). While the plastic bottle tree project took five days to complete, we all had a blast decorating the bottles with Christmas-colored snowflakes and watching these recycled materials transform into an eco-friendly Christmas miracle for the school to enjoy at yesterday's New Year's Eve festivities. As Student Council's Christmas tree was the object of everyone's Instagram and Facebook selfies, the <i>paw-aw</i> (headmaster) exclaimed that this project would be Yang Hom Wittayakom's new end-of-the-year tradition. Overall, our holiday recycling campaign was a success and Kruu Keng reassures me that our tree will continue to stand tall in her classroom for the rest of the school year!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Happy Holidays From Chiang Rai!</b></span></div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-30053289173736121102013-12-20T13:14:00.005+07:002013-12-20T21:04:31.970+07:003 Months<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b><span id="goog_1676577233"></span><span id="goog_1676577234"></span>June 2012: 3 months down</b></div>
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It's a Sunday afternoon, and I am lying on my living room floor with a table fan on its highest setting and pointed directly at me. My refrigerator hums in the background and transports me from my rental house's 98-degree reality into a winter wonderland, while my table fan's slight breeze brings back memories of summer days swimming at Manhattan Beach and eating ice cream. For a moment I am not in my village, but back in California with air-conditioning and some sense of home...<br />
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A sudden silence from my refrigerator wakes me up from my cooling daydreams and I see my table fan's spinning dwindle to a halt. I groan and utter aloud, "Ugh, not again." It's the second power outage this week, which means double the sweat rate if I remain in my house much longer. I walk across the backyard into my landlord Meh Kam's house, and ask her if her house also has a <i>fai dap</i> (power outage). Several drunk and loquacious <i>meh-bahns</i> (village mothers), who are sitting on my landlord's benches with food and rice whiskey, laugh at my accented Thai and comment on how <i>uan</i> (fat) I am before insisting that I join them for lunch.<br />
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As I sweat through a meal of <i>kaao niao</i> (sticky rice) and <i>naam prik </i>(chili paste), I see <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/07/meet-get-chai.html" target="_blank">my landlord's 8-year-old nephew Get</a> peeking from the front door. It's been about a month since I moved into the house next door, and most of my interactions begin with me greeting Get in English, with Get responding in a doe-like stare, a shy giggle, or a mix of the two before he runs off. Not differing from awkward-moments past, I smile at Get and chirp, "Hello, Get! How are you?" Get gives me a blank stare, shyly giggles and retreats into the house for some Sunday cartoons. "<i>Get glua farang</i> (Get is scared of the foreigner)," a <i>meh-bahn </i>teases as she squeezes my arm fat and force-feeds me more <i>kaao niao</i>, with Meh Kam sympathetically smiling behind her whiskey glass.<br />
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After I <i>wai</i> my landlord and her friends for their generosity, I slowly walk around the block back to my rental house, despite the pound of <i>kaao niao</i> weighing me down. The three minutes it takes to get to my front porch is filled with neighbors pointing me from their yards and yelling, "<i>Ron mai?</i> (Is it hot?)" and laughing as if I am the village jester, sweating on-demand for their entertainment. By the time I open my sliding-glass door and step into my living room, I note the lack of movement from my table fan and the small pile of gecko poop on the tile floor. I sigh and grab a broom. <i>When will this feel like home?</i></div>
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<b>December 2013: 3 months to go</b></div>
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At 4:30 on a Sunday afternoon, I sit cross-legged on my living room's bamboo mat, with my body bundled up in long-sleeved everything, gloves, and socks. With Christmas songs blaring from my laptop, I wait for my water on the gas stove to boil for my bucket shower and third cup of tea. Accuweather.com reports an evening low of 39 degrees and high winds in Chiang Rai. I think back to the hot April days when I dreamed of cold weather and laugh at myself in between shivers.<br />
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"<i>Pii Saa-raa!</i>" I smile at the sight of Get with his friends Oon and Angun, waiting for me on my front porch. When I open the sliding-glass door, Oon and Angun nudge Get, who asks on behalf of the group if we can play another round of Christmas Bingo. While I hand out bingo cards and beads as playing chips, Get asks me questions at a mile per minute: "What did you do today? Are you cold? Are you going to be here for <i>Wan Christmas?</i> Can we give presents again?" He proceeds to act as a tour guide and explains to his friends who drew all the pictures decorating my living room wall. Is this really the same boy who would bolt at the sight of me 18 months ago?<br />
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Seven "<i>BAH-IN-GO</i>" declarations and sticker hand-outs later, and the four of us are shivering in my house as the sun sets behind nearby wooden houses. I walk over to a light switch, but the ceiling lights stay off as I continuously flip switches. "Oh nooooo," Get and Oon sing in high-pitched voices, the two of them perfecting imitations of my English sayings over the months and putting themselves in hysterics. I mockingly glare at them, and we continue playing Christmas Bingo in the dark for five more rounds before Oon and Angun return home for dinner.<br />
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I throw on a scarf and shoes before I walk with Get across the backyard and through his family's house towards the front porch. We sit in the front yard with Meh Kam and two of the <i>meh bahns, </i>all three of them bundled up in hooded jackets and rubbing their arms for warmth. I teasingly ask, "<i>Naao mai?</i>" (Are you cold?) Meh Kam laughs loudly while her friends shiver unamused by the joke. I pat one of the <i>meh bahns</i> on the shoulder, offer Meh Kam's friends my gloves and scarf to borrow, then <i>wai</i> everyone before I pull my hood over my head and take a walk down the street.<br />
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As I turn onto the small street leading towards my house, I greet one of my neighbors who is starting a fire for his wife and cousins to sit around. I can smell vegetable broth and smoke floating from a nearby kitchen window, and I feel a breeze flowing from the mountains across the highway. With the sun finally down, the stars appear in the night sky, and these little comforts of sights and smells leaves me smiling in the middle of the street on a cold Sunday evening.<br />
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By the time I reach my gate, I can see the living room lights glowing from my front windows. I see Get waiting for me on my porch and hear him shout, "<i>Meh, Saa-raa glaap baan leeo! </i>(Mom, Sara came back home!") Yes, home at last.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwhA3c4gLCyfm7UQbNvIuIMnEFSHCuwS-wmmGsBWus-xBeSguXFfhCuUdNfNE6Zv4eWAthU311XUmzhyphenhyphenhrb2s5W0ROtfUWu2-VBPpS1hHbie-zTOZUdKu7y6ZfttG4_QZVoEUxwf7YkE/s1600/IMG_1159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwhA3c4gLCyfm7UQbNvIuIMnEFSHCuwS-wmmGsBWus-xBeSguXFfhCuUdNfNE6Zv4eWAthU311XUmzhyphenhyphenhrb2s5W0ROtfUWu2-VBPpS1hHbie-zTOZUdKu7y6ZfttG4_QZVoEUxwf7YkE/s640/IMG_1159.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>"I will learn, I will learn to love the skies I'm under." Mumford & Sons</i></span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-46666210353200553072013-12-09T13:31:00.000+07:002014-01-08T22:11:08.667+07:00#ThaiTweetsBased on PC Zambia blogger <a href="http://fishinginzambia.wordpress.com/tag/zamtwitter/" target="_blank">Matt Young's "ZamTwitter" series</a> (his amusing updates are worth checking out), below are some Peace Corps Thailand life updates in 140 characters or less:<br />
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<i>August 29</i> - When jet-lagged, practice ukulele chords at 4 AM. The roosters and crickets were serenading the neighborhood already, anyway.<br />
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<i>September 4</i> - Rain, rain, go away, let me bike to school today...<br />
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<i>September 5</i> - Woke up to a leaking roof and gecko poo on my mattress at 4 AM. Lovely.<br />
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<i>September 30</i> - Told my co-teacher I've been craving pasta lately. Returns five minutes later with noodle soup and a bag of ketchup yelling, "SPA-GEH-TEE!"<br />
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<i>October 1</i> - Thai co-worker who I've known for 1.5 years introduces me as "the Canadian volunteer". I'm from CA. Community integration epic fail, d'oh!<br />
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<i>October 28</i> - Asked co-worker where I can buy silk scarves to bring home. "You don't want to buy Thai husband for America?" #nothanks #awkward #peacecorps<br />
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<i>November 12</i> - Walked in on engineering staff sleeping around my desk. Empty whiskey bottles included. Nice to know night-guard shifts are in safe hands.<br />
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<i>December 6</i> - Rebelling against loud, drunken karaoke next door by playing ukulele off-key and coughing up a storm. Enjoy those melodic tunes, neighbors!<br />
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<i>December 9</i> - Dead flies floating around in my tea cup. Nothing like a hot does of protein to start my Monday morning #peacecorps<br />
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<i>December 9</i> - PCV friend: "My next class just lined up in front of my room. My co-teacher noticed them, turned to me and said, 'Ewww, they're here.'"<br />
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<i>December 9</i> - Dog, cat, chicken & crab (don't ask) chilling at the office. Waiting for the rest of Ol' MacDonald's gang to arrive #peacecorpsSarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-77144543938692148772013-12-07T12:50:00.002+07:002013-12-07T14:43:24.011+07:00Madiba: A Universal SpiritWhile browsing through articles discussing Mandela's legacy, I came across a handful of news sources discussing what South Africans call "Madiba Magic": Mandela's endearing mix of strong compassion, active empathy, and love paired with Madiba batik shirts that Mandela frequently wore throughout his years as a humanitarian. Not only did Mandela's spirit play a role in his lifetime achievements in South Africa and worldwide, but the admirable qualities of his Madiba Magic are also what made Mandela a human being that many around the world strive to be like.<br />
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During my two years serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I continue to witness flickers of the Madiba Magic within my site community in Chiang Rai. I see a strong sense of compassion among the local secondary school's Student Council, a group of youthful leaders who brainstorm ideas to strengthen a peaceful co-existence between students and staff. I see a constant practice of empathy in my co-teacher Kruu Keng, who not only helps her students build upon their skills both within and outside the classroom, but shares her childhood experiences in the village to shed light on students' potential as young adults. And throughout the villages, I've been fortunate enough to experience a strong sense of love and acceptance from my counterparts, neighbors and friends, with whom I've developed relationships that recognize and celebrate our cultural differences. This community of strength, determination, and compassion embodies Madiba Magic that, when given the opportunity, can truly shine for others to admire and strive towards.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4l7qrcuCem8LruaEwruxoCRHCNhoeuoqIoSx9IBmDS8Y9Alc7SpqGnqF7YCD3zuobSQzItMp2MQXek7DlFuiXZLtItoyDZqpVnjDziCzH95i3zbuLll3GbOuHThEGI85Vt4hFWpuLyec/s1600/mandela.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4l7qrcuCem8LruaEwruxoCRHCNhoeuoqIoSx9IBmDS8Y9Alc7SpqGnqF7YCD3zuobSQzItMp2MQXek7DlFuiXZLtItoyDZqpVnjDziCzH95i3zbuLll3GbOuHThEGI85Vt4hFWpuLyec/s320/mandela.jpg" width="305" /></a>Like the many members of my Northern Thai community, there others across the globe who embody the Madiba spirit in some shape or form. The Madida Magic exists within each of us, but it is up to us to foster these values into something great. In honor of the inspiring life that Mandela led, let us take our Madiba Magic and continue to seize the opportunities to strive towards the greatness that Mandela believed we are all capable of achieving.<br />
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<i>"Sometimes it falls upon a generation to be great. YOU can be that great generation. Let your generation blossom."</i></div>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-68687519468085192202013-12-03T11:34:00.004+07:002013-12-07T12:51:50.058+07:00Less Sweat, More Sweaters: A Thai Winter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Signs that <i>ruu-duu naao</i> (cold season) has arrived:</b></div>
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<li>Waking up to the sight of grey skies and low-lying fog across the rice paddies;</li>
<li>Morning and evening showers require the perfect balance of freezing bucket water and a pot of boiling water fresh off the gas stove;</li>
<li>A cold <i>kuat naam </i>(water bottle) is replaced with a cup of <i>chaa ron</i> (hot tea);</li>
<li>Hand-washed clothes take 2-3 days to dry outside during <i>ruu-duu naao</i> vs. 2-3 hours during <i>ruu-duu ron (</i>hot season);</li>
<li>A/C remotes and cooling fans are left untouched until at least the early afternoon;</li>
<li>Not only has my bike-sweat rate decreased by at least 50%, but I have to bike to work in a long-sleeved shirt AND gloves to guard my skin from the morning cold;</li>
<li>Remembering to pack a pair of socks to keep feet warm in the office;</li>
<li>A drop from warm 75-degree mornings to chilly 60-degree ones = time to break out the sweaters, jackets, gloves, scarves, and hats (one of the local government officials arrived this morning sporting all five cold-season accessories);</li>
<li>The traditional greeting of "<i>Ron mai?</i>" (Are you hot?) is replaced with "<i>Naao mai?</i>" (Are you cold?)</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkbFwkNrcw9mfxUZGW7byVE2bYQfNpdBoCSFwvRbNGqvYtcddUtYw9lls1ln5c1s58bvjSHWVMOAwWyiIXQNQ2F2dsnIvJXcpEaiaL8dchi6Xm4yLYlpgiPUntAiqFtuDHrmr4MziCFtY/s1600/IMG_2622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkbFwkNrcw9mfxUZGW7byVE2bYQfNpdBoCSFwvRbNGqvYtcddUtYw9lls1ln5c1s58bvjSHWVMOAwWyiIXQNQ2F2dsnIvJXcpEaiaL8dchi6Xm4yLYlpgiPUntAiqFtuDHrmr4MziCFtY/s640/IMG_2622.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Morning fog rolling in: <i>ruu-duu naao</i> is finally here!</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-13166270740113844972013-11-19T12:06:00.001+07:002013-11-22T07:22:53.021+07:00PCT Photo Diary: Loy Krathong Traditions<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b>A Lesson in <i>Krathong-</i>Making: </b>In preparation for <i>Loy Krathong</i> Festival, people will create <i>krathongs </i>("floating crowns") to float down the river as an offering to the water spirits. A handmade <i>krathong</i> consists of a circular base cut from banana stalk, along with banana leaves. Most Thai schools will host a <i>krathong</i>-making class the week prior to the mid-November celebrations, with many students coming to school with bags of banana leaves, tree leaves, and flowers to decorate their <i>krathongs</i> with.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfx52oJc0v4dzBzPSq7TrPhF5DlSv06qj83vnpqcJm9jgVTVom88bqzTcsrv7vCP-JCDok0MaXvhyphenhypheniHpF2NXMqionmtBQb0a6q-446Y37lL66a1V76LhJD46QW4LgmoIFLpE3oKNupV_o/s1600/IMG_2969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfx52oJc0v4dzBzPSq7TrPhF5DlSv06qj83vnpqcJm9jgVTVom88bqzTcsrv7vCP-JCDok0MaXvhyphenhypheniHpF2NXMqionmtBQb0a6q-446Y37lL66a1V76LhJD46QW4LgmoIFLpE3oKNupV_o/s400/IMG_2969.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rY2JxVf_gKrmbVLH0Fg7s542wEta-TFN08bEk9QchDDSGWVOgu-RL4engsGnuY8ukzx9xxoMPZCRHH0gzwQ9CbkC5Bk4rdilIdExJbem8eBaNDW09YdKhP-iSwU2R3ga-H64V_2s_5I/s1600/IMG_2983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rY2JxVf_gKrmbVLH0Fg7s542wEta-TFN08bEk9QchDDSGWVOgu-RL4engsGnuY8ukzx9xxoMPZCRHH0gzwQ9CbkC5Bk4rdilIdExJbem8eBaNDW09YdKhP-iSwU2R3ga-H64V_2s_5I/s400/IMG_2983.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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An afternoon of <i>krathong</i>-making at Ban Chompoo Primary School; Grade 6 student Yok</div>
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tests out our creations' floating capabilities at a nearby stream</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvD9Q5Q1-GixOkx1_sVELaymrfQw2Xdu3kG9Ed4n6mR0-KCSS_w6PWjgd0qRL7SS7VIYmxM4xuIRns6GGsYGRPpfshUjUqxxldcvgA5bK3zeIlBW3pVTAY4Nxbjld7JFkfAzSuPLtXag/s1600/IMG_2990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvD9Q5Q1-GixOkx1_sVELaymrfQw2Xdu3kG9Ed4n6mR0-KCSS_w6PWjgd0qRL7SS7VIYmxM4xuIRns6GGsYGRPpfshUjUqxxldcvgA5bK3zeIlBW3pVTAY4Nxbjld7JFkfAzSuPLtXag/s400/IMG_2990.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A colorful variety of floats for <i>Loy Krathong</i> weekend</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Honoring the Water Spirits: </b>On the night of <i>Loy Krathong</i>, people will release their "floating crowns" down nearby rivers or streams to pay their respects to the water spirits. Each <i>krathong</i> has a candle and three incense sticks that people will light before they make their wishes and launch the floating decorations downstream. To make the <i>krathong</i> launches more exciting, Thai children will often add sparklers to their creations, such as the ones my landlord generously adorned my <i>krathong</i> with yesterday evening *thanks, Meh Kam!*</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyp039LEddqMrING2X43hLJnxCCgi38aybpQKz6qFF5NUtoEhEU2JQxrhsr77aWl2bQv2rFjcdVhrO-F6_4NJ235LgpGrVd4zrK1IpbG3GbWuMBJqdX42cSVe2_czDusyqvH-ykSKFazU/s1600/IMG_3003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyp039LEddqMrING2X43hLJnxCCgi38aybpQKz6qFF5NUtoEhEU2JQxrhsr77aWl2bQv2rFjcdVhrO-F6_4NJ235LgpGrVd4zrK1IpbG3GbWuMBJqdX42cSVe2_czDusyqvH-ykSKFazU/s400/IMG_3003.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXDj_al9Q5L5XCnxcfl1unwkFxGJdwe7VFdfRzcMesws59Lu_3al6oXb_o7DQzEvS1_jaPD4d2wagJRaHrw5jjWhES9si-zW08OAYhkaD1aNjy2TUmVwhguA7dpV2RSF4jTpTOYwK85c/s1600/IMG_3005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXDj_al9Q5L5XCnxcfl1unwkFxGJdwe7VFdfRzcMesws59Lu_3al6oXb_o7DQzEvS1_jaPD4d2wagJRaHrw5jjWhES9si-zW08OAYhkaD1aNjy2TUmVwhguA7dpV2RSF4jTpTOYwK85c/s400/IMG_3005.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
Get and Oon with their handmade floats; my<i> krathong</i> festively lit for the evening's festivities<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJDY26frISKYud9b9DEUqcsyKhFMVRVbzHY7NBy7yp30JjdhXpD4smrPU9fUVmgyC_4-TTow_HUu1HWmO7bxgMoRGpy1RrtssZlt-2smGJDln8vydFas-BzOJlRHd1MpKJ2pE5X5FT_c/s1600/IMG_3007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJDY26frISKYud9b9DEUqcsyKhFMVRVbzHY7NBy7yp30JjdhXpD4smrPU9fUVmgyC_4-TTow_HUu1HWmO7bxgMoRGpy1RrtssZlt-2smGJDln8vydFas-BzOJlRHd1MpKJ2pE5X5FT_c/s400/IMG_3007.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Watching our wishes float down <i>Huay Yang Hom</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Praying to Buddha:</b> <i>Loy Krathong</i> is also a time for prayer, as Thai communities visit their local temples to pay their respect to Buddha on the night of the full moon. Monks will lead a prayer as they walk around the temple's <i>stupa</i> (dome-like structure acting as a shrine to Buddha) several times, with community members following along while holding arrangements of incense sticks, candles, and flowers. After the walk, everyone kneels in front of the <i>stupa</i> for a final prayer before placing their lit candles and arrangements along the structure's base to honor Buddha.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOfsQQva99RAzJeIZt8zPFuq40GlMRrYCQwh0yTwsooR1MvFhCuUB0vkWp6INYa1nOYEEaZwIvG9bRnxFG_DtIRFRRzoOuuLc-OuizuMYr0K1puyfcUqUQGTXsqRosKw56UPBzzYuT-5c/s1600/IMG_3023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOfsQQva99RAzJeIZt8zPFuq40GlMRrYCQwh0yTwsooR1MvFhCuUB0vkWp6INYa1nOYEEaZwIvG9bRnxFG_DtIRFRRzoOuuLc-OuizuMYr0K1puyfcUqUQGTXsqRosKw56UPBzzYuT-5c/s400/IMG_3023.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A village member lights candles inside a temple<br /> before the monks lead a prayer walk </span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRIf36TtT7CvR5NtMp1QITorNQ0r4Za0gndfH7Up5E_ZjidXVaLmLsOg9a-q_KYLDhCJhphpdOXHHtbhWzF_Q6u4PqDZYh5HzZAs69SZFrE4yGTEI3SFmMrFWvfAtjBhtoMYQv66ykzIQ/s1600/IMG_3027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRIf36TtT7CvR5NtMp1QITorNQ0r4Za0gndfH7Up5E_ZjidXVaLmLsOg9a-q_KYLDhCJhphpdOXHHtbhWzF_Q6u4PqDZYh5HzZAs69SZFrE4yGTEI3SFmMrFWvfAtjBhtoMYQv66ykzIQ/s400/IMG_3027.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV0WFuEyYdZU3vaMsgU68tYPQnYs1ny3NF6XZVzcI4mtG-nB6rIcenq10PEdxb4-xBBYwOifIa8MkpE8D9o5DNBlQYazRicCfCaFq8hj8nmvmbmnM7anLrTD4hHqqsGIOCw9-bnCHxP7M/s1600/IMG_3029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV0WFuEyYdZU3vaMsgU68tYPQnYs1ny3NF6XZVzcI4mtG-nB6rIcenq10PEdxb4-xBBYwOifIa8MkpE8D9o5DNBlQYazRicCfCaFq8hj8nmvmbmnM7anLrTD4hHqqsGIOCw9-bnCHxP7M/s400/IMG_3029.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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Community members place their arrangements along the <i>stupa's </i>base; candles illuminating</div>
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Buddhist statues along the <i>stupa</i></div>
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<b>Lighting Up the Sky: </b>Since <i>Loy Krathong</i> coincides with the <i>Lanna Yi Peng</i> Festival in Northern Thailand, many people will launch <i>khom loy</i> (floating lanterns) into the sky on the night of the full moon. Considered a <i>Yi Peng</i> tradition, launching a<i> khom loy</i> is a way for people to make merit and bring good fortune for the coming year. The <i>khom loy </i>is made of rice paper with a candle or fuel cell attached at the bottom. After the fuel cell is lit, the built-up hot air causes the <i>khom loy </i>to lift higher, until someone releases the lantern into the sky after making a wish.<br />
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Get and his uncle light the <i>khom loi's</i> fuel cell; making a wish before releasing their lantern<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lighting up the sky with wishes; Happy <i>Loy Krathong</i> from Chiang Rai!</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-70312627437554426562013-11-13T17:49:00.002+07:002013-11-13T18:18:47.677+07:00Happy Halloween!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Halloween masks made by Ban Chompoo Primary School; holiday treats</i></div>
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<i>of candy, stickers, and pencils</i></div>
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Celebrating Halloween in the United States means that everyone has the opportunity to dress up and pretend to be anyone and anything their heart desires. Since I became old enough to appreciate trick-or-treating and costume-selecting, my Halloween identities varied from farm animals (I was the cutest 4-year-old cow Los Angeles had ever seen), to Disney princesses (rocked out the baggy Esmerelda and Mulan threads throughout primary school), to Nick Jr. explorers (Dora the Explorer goes to college). After reminiscing about Halloween memories with my co-teacher Kruu Nong and her class, the two of us brought Halloween spirit to Ban Chompoo Primary School with an afternoon of mask-making with the Grades 4 through 6 students. By the end of the day, everyone ran up to me with colorful and creative costumes ranging from cute animals to scary jack-o-lanterns, with each student yelling an enthusiastic "Trick-o-treat!" in exchange for candy corn, stickers, and colorful pencils.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Co-teacher Kruu Nong colors her monkey mask while the Grade 4 students decorate their pumpkins</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Can you spot the PCV?</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Cheers to another Happy Halloween in Chiang Rai!</i></span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-44076026618089875402013-11-03T10:09:00.004+07:002013-11-03T10:17:45.678+07:00Beaded Babble: A Job Well Done and More to Come<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDPxleoeXCpD3cZY8EgMUnrRcSNMGFAUtAAev8YKuMkIgcMc8NBM_ybXK9HiJJBs6sUExBPTRc1Es1bX3M6jy13JJWhGmI3bAGapwom3s9k_ODk8mYJB0mzujUZCtgLC_n1XZcSNLKOc/s1600/IMG_2755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDPxleoeXCpD3cZY8EgMUnrRcSNMGFAUtAAev8YKuMkIgcMc8NBM_ybXK9HiJJBs6sUExBPTRc1Es1bX3M6jy13JJWhGmI3bAGapwom3s9k_ODk8mYJB0mzujUZCtgLC_n1XZcSNLKOc/s640/IMG_2755.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A set of recycled paper bead bracelets made by Anna, Grade 5.</span></td></tr>
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The students at Ban Chompoo Primary School finished their first tall order one week early! Last Monday, I was shocked by the one-dozen-plus students in Kruu Nong's classroom last week -- during <i>school break</i> -- happily wrapping beads and stringing them together into double-strand bracelets to add to our 150-piece order for an English camp in Chiang Mai next weekend. "They've been here every day after lunch since I returned last week," explained Kruu Nong. When I suggested that the students take a break to eat a snack or play outside, Kruu Nong shook her head and responded, "<i>Bpawk leeo </i>(already told them), but they want to stay here instead. They are so happy <i>mak mak</i> (very much)!"</div>
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As Grade 6 student Tan finishes our order's 150th and final bracelet last Tuesday, I watch several students surrounding Tan and cheering her on: "<i>Geng mak!</i> (Very good!) <i>Tan sut-sut! </i>(Go Tan!)" The excitement in the primary school's hallway rises as Tan begins tying off her creation and writing her name on a jewelry label. As soon as Tan staples a label around her bracelet, Grade Four student Puy runs to the whiteboard and stands on a chair to erase and change the numbers on the board: 149/150 to 150/150; 99% to 100%, 1 bracelet remaining to 0 remaining. "<i>Set leeo </i>(already finished)," I announce in the hallway, where the students burst into cheers of joy towards a job well done. Once everyone in the jewelry group places bracelets onto their wrists for photo-taking purposes, we crowd around Kruu Nong's camera phone to admire six weekends' worth of bead-making and bonding on the screen.</div>
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While the students begin packaging bracelets into Ziploc bags for next weekend's delivery, my co-teacher and I discuss the future of the student occupational trainings: the possibility of online sales; the capacity to take on more tall orders; most importantly, the students' level of dedication to this craft. Kruu Nong and I agreed that if we pursued this endeavor further without a high level of dedication and enthusiasm on the part of the students, the chances of establishing a sustainable business would be slim. As the two of us discussed plans for the second semester, Grade 6 students Frame and Bas approached us:</div>
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Frame: <i>Mii arai iik?</i> (What's next?)</div>
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Me: <i>Pra-porn</i> (take a break) for the rest of the week! We're <i>set leeo</i>.</div>
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Bas: Nobody else wants to buy our bracelets?</div>
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Me: <i>Mai chai</i> (not true), some <i>kon sa-ha-raat</i> (Americans) want bracelets too, but we don't need to start now.</div>
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Bas: Okay <i>krap</i>, but we want to make more! <i>Sanuk dii! </i>(Very fun!)</div>
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Frame: Can we make more this weekend? I can bring <i>ka-nom </i>(snacks) for everyone!</div>
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150 bracelets later, and our jewelry group's momentum shows no signs of slowing down. I couldn't be prouder of these children's levels of motivation and enthusiasm, and we're all looking forward to what's to come this semester. Ban Chompoo Primary School, <i>sut sut!</i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Grade 4 student Angun strings recycled paper beads together into a double-strand bracelet.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Grade 6 student Tan completes the 150th and final bracelet for this month's order to Chiang Mai.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMvugwajvp_2UT2LunajxGR7r2KqLP2d6fRT28JzngMAyTnfjb29r-7svCJP7wIxTWzTzFTQIHJOBKKQhOg9QYkzzoid5yVwZRIzMuBGQ2LpKu7cLq9QpbbHsJ-ldykNqjlTq_ryQeL8/s1600/IMG_2774.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMvugwajvp_2UT2LunajxGR7r2KqLP2d6fRT28JzngMAyTnfjb29r-7svCJP7wIxTWzTzFTQIHJOBKKQhOg9QYkzzoid5yVwZRIzMuBGQ2LpKu7cLq9QpbbHsJ-ldykNqjlTq_ryQeL8/s640/IMG_2774.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kruu Nong: "Let's wear <i>tuk-yang </i>(everything) and take <i>Fate-Boot</i> photos!"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">So happy about the order completion, that Grade 5 student Ahua's creations smile for the occasion.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">First tall order completed, and hopefully more to come!</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-41953861804804284802013-11-01T12:25:00.004+07:002013-11-03T10:37:44.895+07:00Getting Crafty: Toilet Paper Roll Lanterns<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3sYvIeGU6xvCX5yozOcNREPWE7m-3qDgK66Rg04l3PqcUNAWfGDv-XH2BpaCywNq0ib0yxklxi9V7dw9TLMDx7zEucRSfJNWjMTM_rUJp3mVocu2mULp8-h2116FlGBYGUeQaqC0aTY/s1600/IMG_2724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3sYvIeGU6xvCX5yozOcNREPWE7m-3qDgK66Rg04l3PqcUNAWfGDv-XH2BpaCywNq0ib0yxklxi9V7dw9TLMDx7zEucRSfJNWjMTM_rUJp3mVocu2mULp8-h2116FlGBYGUeQaqC0aTY/s200/IMG_2724.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The <i>oo-baw-gone</i> (materials)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrlM1RsAT-qQRvIkg9MLUAV9vPWJvUQzmyLkX9fYO-DwIjgH0HjsySrxs04sJSaCbCnxKEswcIylBm4aVmofeC__d2WgohjkUEBXn2a1BI9zIk2q2LY5z52V6MdxazCGSNB91zpjTZ0g/s1600/IMG_2725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrlM1RsAT-qQRvIkg9MLUAV9vPWJvUQzmyLkX9fYO-DwIjgH0HjsySrxs04sJSaCbCnxKEswcIylBm4aVmofeC__d2WgohjkUEBXn2a1BI9zIk2q2LY5z52V6MdxazCGSNB91zpjTZ0g/s200/IMG_2725.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Sii arai gaw dai! </i>(Any color you want!)</span></td></tr>
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"Why are you sitting on the floor with your <i>ka-ya</i>?!" My landlord Meh Kam stands outside my patio screen door with her eyes bugging out at the sight of her paint-specked <i>farang </i>tenant sitting cross-legged on a bamboo mat with a pile of toilet paper <i>ka-ya</i> (trash). Like most of my recycled arts & crafts experiments, last weekend's recycled lanterns project was met with many stares and questions, such as my landlord's curiosity towards my living room clutter. Even I'll admit that a pile of a dozen toilet paper rolls accompanied by paint jars, paintbrushes, string, and an X-acto knife looked out-of-the-ordinary, but I was determined to show Meh Kam that my crafting-craziness would result in window-decor glory.<br />
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After several hours of painting, waiting, slicing, and stringing together, I called Meh Kam over to see the fruits of my labor: a string of multi-colored toilet paper roll lanterns hanging across my living room window. In disbelief that my latest creation was once a pile of <i>ka-ya</i> on my living room floor, Meh Kam asked if we could make another set of lanterns for this month's Loy Krathong (Lantern) Festival. Hopefully I can collect enough toilet paper rolls this month to share Meh Kam's holiday suggestion with the primary school students!<br />
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<i>*If you'd like to make your own set of toilet paper roll lanterns, you can follow <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_6007672_make-toilet-paper-roll-lanterns.html" target="_blank">this tutorial by eHow</a>.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgamcn-ERQiVAnboyOkQkxD_9HCNUZ3TvZ9AWnnq1YlYJHZvwx1fmtngODQkJy6R0784AZFii7MkuFw23GZ0_RlSZl72AjjtX_ZAMwgoRnwD5Evr7N9uywd2aC5MtL7auZHNF10jI-Ism0/s1600/IMG_2799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgamcn-ERQiVAnboyOkQkxD_9HCNUZ3TvZ9AWnnq1YlYJHZvwx1fmtngODQkJy6R0784AZFii7MkuFw23GZ0_RlSZl72AjjtX_ZAMwgoRnwD5Evr7N9uywd2aC5MtL7auZHNF10jI-Ism0/s640/IMG_2799.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A pretty string of multi-colored lanterns brightening up my living room window!</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-19879819637568786292013-10-30T10:38:00.003+07:002013-10-30T11:56:44.681+07:00Beaded Babble: What Happiness Sounds Like<i style="font-weight: bold;">Happiness sounds like </i>students shrieking at the sight of freshly-sliced paper:<br />
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Me: Do you want to get together for a Halloween party this <i>wan pah-ru-hat</i> (Thursday)?</div>
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Class: Yay!</div>
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Kruu Nong: I have yellow paper for beads.</div>
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Class: <i>OOOOOI!</i> *runs towards the front desk, pushing and shoving for recycled paper strips*</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXMf8RHx2XDqt-Q8Rc7_duo_soYb1rfnOoH2-AAyJbNZcr3mE8NFeeLvFbADJyKksTtMW7IKfmTY1WfBYbFQCJdP-c5xHj79bcFHmZoY8Jxm6PLhUBS7HltQuPPls5tWREQQFvF42Y4g/s1600/IMG_2731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXMf8RHx2XDqt-Q8Rc7_duo_soYb1rfnOoH2-AAyJbNZcr3mE8NFeeLvFbADJyKksTtMW7IKfmTY1WfBYbFQCJdP-c5xHj79bcFHmZoY8Jxm6PLhUBS7HltQuPPls5tWREQQFvF42Y4g/s640/IMG_2731.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Recycled paper trumps holiday party.</span></td></tr>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Happiness sounds like </i>a group of students singing along to American music:</div>
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Angun: <i>Kruu Saa-raa, nong sau chop pleng ah-rai? </i>(Teacher Sara, what song does your sister like?)</div>
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Me: This year, she really likes songs by Justin Bieber.</div>
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Nook: <i>OOOOOI jam die Justin Bieber! </i>(I remember Justin Bieber!) *picks a song from her cellphone*</div>
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Nook: <i>Bah-ay-bee bah-ay-bee bah-ay-bee ooooooh!</i></div>
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Angun: <i>Bah-ay-bee, bah-ay-bee ooooooh!</i></div>
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*A dozen students proceed to join the "Baby" by Justin Bieber sing-along*</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdymBA7RmtQO60DasOKbFMaT_VFYvdSijdE6tEBJOhFr3s0PhTCRpDihDPifRIVtglXEWw45f7ERraaV4eNd56snudjcn7kH4abLIK4jYwM5httwHxdAxoCZhVJKFx5JIZLEAzUPUsECE/s1600/IMG_2730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdymBA7RmtQO60DasOKbFMaT_VFYvdSijdE6tEBJOhFr3s0PhTCRpDihDPifRIVtglXEWw45f7ERraaV4eNd56snudjcn7kH4abLIK4jYwM5httwHxdAxoCZhVJKFx5JIZLEAzUPUsECE/s640/IMG_2730.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bead-wrapping and Bieber tunes on a Monday afternoon.</span></td></tr>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Happiness sounds like </i>my students frequently yelling "<i>SAH-TICKER</i>", to the point where we have to make room for their progress:</div>
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Ahua: *holds up a bracelet* <i>Kruu Saa-raa, set leeo!</i> (Already finished!)</div>
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Anna: <i>Set leeo!</i></div>
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Bas: <i>Set leeo, duai!</i> (Also already finished!)</div>
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Me: Okay, sticker time!</div>
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Bas: <i>Sah-ticker time-uh!</i></div>
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Ahua: <i>Sah-ticker tah-ime!</i></div>
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Anna: <i>Sah-ticker tah-ime!</i></div>
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Kruu Nong: PAPER TIME! *holds up a freshly-lined sheet*</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9bCbo5uraVpTNd2H9C6fY8fgTr3nZjMZiGHJAqq_QIgoQVdn1SroBy8g2x3_JSdkmIy0Da4DPFKNysWnXOzxkL490n7CQg6S6k0-0BKlytlGfzUEWXERxMkyxuy7xi8vxiH7WY5GT7g/s1600/IMG_2740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9bCbo5uraVpTNd2H9C6fY8fgTr3nZjMZiGHJAqq_QIgoQVdn1SroBy8g2x3_JSdkmIy0Da4DPFKNysWnXOzxkL490n7CQg6S6k0-0BKlytlGfzUEWXERxMkyxuy7xi8vxiH7WY5GT7g/s640/IMG_2740.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some of the students went above and beyond the first page of progress; great work, everyone!</span></td></tr>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">And happiness sound like </i>Grade 4 student Puy's squeals of delight after hitting the 10-bracelet mark:</div>
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Puy: <i>OOOOOI</i> <i>Kruu Saa-raa, sip leeo!</i> (ten already!) *holds up bracelets*</div>
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Me: Yay, <i>geng mak </i>Puy! (very good) Sticker time!</div>
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Puy: Can you take a picture of me?</div>
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Me: <i>Dai, ka!</i> (I can!) Why do you want a photo?</div>
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Puy: Because I want the <i>kon sah-ha-rat</i> (Americans) to know that I made these <i>kon diao</i> (by myself).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidgR2TzK0rXckECMcBnwcyPwFQOmDjTLNmvSuXppgle3uILdFXir53WBvldUEU1dV1jP5xMKkeDMqOHrvoLF3GkEpXmlUxXOIWnE6De2b-R6i3fjaJeNxJZXi4fk70ghr8iLot0mgEWC0/s1600/IMG_2733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidgR2TzK0rXckECMcBnwcyPwFQOmDjTLNmvSuXppgle3uILdFXir53WBvldUEU1dV1jP5xMKkeDMqOHrvoLF3GkEpXmlUxXOIWnE6De2b-R6i3fjaJeNxJZXi4fk70ghr8iLot0mgEWC0/s400/IMG_2733.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of our youngest and most talented<br />bracelet-makers; <i>geng mak</i>, Puy!</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-21897708257433238492013-10-23T18:14:00.000+07:002013-11-03T10:37:15.910+07:00The Kindness of Others: PDA Chiang Rai<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuaejZMWxFCoqsGmxooCfUMsKtuIhohWbMHLRIpeitHJ1p50L-o0Rr2ZJwHt0w3T2F5iu2b8TknVWNHze5MjPBp1YtNaEpOwcw9jBBfeJK-rvJREIdbshyFHJhv-rME1kR09mAZF8mscM/s1600/DSC_7630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuaejZMWxFCoqsGmxooCfUMsKtuIhohWbMHLRIpeitHJ1p50L-o0Rr2ZJwHt0w3T2F5iu2b8TknVWNHze5MjPBp1YtNaEpOwcw9jBBfeJK-rvJREIdbshyFHJhv-rME1kR09mAZF8mscM/s640/DSC_7630.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">October 8, 2013: <i>pratom</i> (primary) and <i>matayom</i> (secondary) students with PDA's blankets-and-sweaters donation</span></td></tr>
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This month, the <a href="http://www.pdacr.org/" target="_blank">Population and Community Development Association (PDA) </a>delivered a blankets-and sweaters donation for my site's Hmong hill tribe community at Ban Phayapipak. Thanks to the PC Thailand office connecting my site to this amazing opportunity and PDA's generosity, 150 blankets and 150 sweaters were distributed to Ban Phayapitpak's 154 primary and secondary students, 37 preschool students, and 22 senior citizens!</div>
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On the day of the donation, Ban Phayapitpak's hill tribe school greeted PDA Chiang Rai's project staff with a school auditorium of over 200 smiling village members, as well as local music & dance performances highlighting the spirit of the village's White Hmong culture. Khun Alberto, one of PDA Chiang Rai's project coordinators, enthusiastically spoke with hill tribe students and local government staff about our sub-district's local history and culture, snapping photos of anything and everything catching his eye throughout the afternoon. By the end of the day, Khun Alberto praised the spirit of our community and asked if he could attend Ban Phayapitpak's New Year Festival in January. As we excitedly arranged a future visit, I was grateful that PDA had the chance to interact with a community I've come to know and love over the past 22 months. Thank you for your generosity, PDA Chiang Rai, and we look forward to seeing you again soon!</div>
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<b><i>About PDA:</i></b> <i>Established by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mechai_Viravaidya" target="_blank">Dr. Mechai Viravaidya </a>in 1976, PDA started off as a nationwide family planning program to address Thailand's population growth rate. Since then, PDA has significantly contributed to lowered population growth rates, as well as diversified their activities to other community development sectors. PDA's Chiang Rai office supports community development activities for hill tribe communities in the surrounding area, with projects including but not limited to scholarship programs combating human trafficking, community-based tourism activities, village micro credit banks, and AIDS education.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12KNRygUODpvwIbRjIsNtn0SCsCfyn8ORyOvb47n8btadSpPso2cd22-5fWjpCOPkrmX-EFASoAxs9mELzEj02i4EIwnB-V4fXonlw227rAhndHpWQezSOxI_2aH9xny6ZIaRtVuYilk/s1600/DSC_7644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12KNRygUODpvwIbRjIsNtn0SCsCfyn8ORyOvb47n8btadSpPso2cd22-5fWjpCOPkrmX-EFASoAxs9mELzEj02i4EIwnB-V4fXonlw227rAhndHpWQezSOxI_2aH9xny6ZIaRtVuYilk/s640/DSC_7644.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ban Phayapipak's <i>pratome</i> and <i>matayom</i> students at Tuesday morning's assembly with PDA</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfqO-z26aDSk_ZRwpmqCmGhimJ8ymVat0sYIKy9r4CyDJgdOVZ-jL1YpZb5FS4Yx3gKkuvISG3bUKD4-T2blIRx5-acpCObb12sZ6qnKFgQqKszutkdfEbHbeaekkzkn_ufxlvBFZj7o/s1600/DSC_7658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfqO-z26aDSk_ZRwpmqCmGhimJ8ymVat0sYIKy9r4CyDJgdOVZ-jL1YpZb5FS4Yx3gKkuvISG3bUKD4-T2blIRx5-acpCObb12sZ6qnKFgQqKszutkdfEbHbeaekkzkn_ufxlvBFZj7o/s640/DSC_7658.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The local government office and PDA representatives with the <i>matayom</i> (secondary) students after receiving new blankets for the start of <i>ruu-duu naao</i> (cold season)</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-LyhdQ8I73TlMfXJiuPpLg6c2Ge_5Y4WqIkXM59fAlHw-8xlA89A8CzDlxTJ4R4EnG8JnXlAFaTh-5RaPTeAfLSfX-UfmyUPVE5bZuOFZtN6X0oNBE_9BlJavi-vNFljvKd11QhcuD8/s1600/IMG_2557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-LyhdQ8I73TlMfXJiuPpLg6c2Ge_5Y4WqIkXM59fAlHw-8xlA89A8CzDlxTJ4R4EnG8JnXlAFaTh-5RaPTeAfLSfX-UfmyUPVE5bZuOFZtN6X0oNBE_9BlJavi-vNFljvKd11QhcuD8/s1600/IMG_2557.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEUEUBnx_AY8Z3hRO_sAnpZuXK-ZCeXJXMF-D_idzWh1HCzydHWJFDuq2bONl6jVUEVXhIq9Xgj5JDoWR41nDZvYkmFhCXaIOmq2oxi0C1BVAn4rLQozCZ-SQ4GXNnyqZSW2cMcgMEgw/s1600/IMG_2566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEUEUBnx_AY8Z3hRO_sAnpZuXK-ZCeXJXMF-D_idzWh1HCzydHWJFDuq2bONl6jVUEVXhIq9Xgj5JDoWR41nDZvYkmFhCXaIOmq2oxi0C1BVAn4rLQozCZ-SQ4GXNnyqZSW2cMcgMEgw/s1600/IMG_2566.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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The <i>matayom</i> students present traditional White Hmong dance and music performances</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg52hoHOdEw5L9WRWiuC1ZbrLgl2ID6fY0ONCUGiDAWqH8YeTvCyt7DbpHVkYRiaBz-PFDUNWap5wYWwfcOjh1zE3daDIoJeyzGeuARBLVuHlby4Kyqjp0l6bYAspRDtuXFNqr2H1IoyCQ/s1600/IMG_2578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg52hoHOdEw5L9WRWiuC1ZbrLgl2ID6fY0ONCUGiDAWqH8YeTvCyt7DbpHVkYRiaBz-PFDUNWap5wYWwfcOjh1zE3daDIoJeyzGeuARBLVuHlby4Kyqjp0l6bYAspRDtuXFNqr2H1IoyCQ/s640/IMG_2578.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The adorable <i>dek lek </i>(preschoolers) ready to pick out their new fleece sweaters</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyphenhyphenqdnc5RcMZUNWYsc56sahFfxx3-7AP7uZXHJjAaeHoRx0UjyWD0Ix22hYxKqqb9uu8HYHeV2kObspSnsgpOvlIhRxZzIRuQWo_6XHnukiu8_YmZv5aZEM7ixYRbdwLfRDwgTExcOllM/s1600/DSC_7734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyphenhyphenqdnc5RcMZUNWYsc56sahFfxx3-7AP7uZXHJjAaeHoRx0UjyWD0Ix22hYxKqqb9uu8HYHeV2kObspSnsgpOvlIhRxZzIRuQWo_6XHnukiu8_YmZv5aZEM7ixYRbdwLfRDwgTExcOllM/s640/DSC_7734.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The local government officials joked that I scared this <i>dek lek</i>; I think we got along just fine (even if I was bribing her with a cute fleece hoodie)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNMVUrj2CJAyqtAsORe6rDaGg1Lc8429yRhysAiKWbEFX1YuhN3PWPhm84FZNXygrA-AWqRCeWmVybAGJijUUTG2XC6L5S6pJ3e9tMvG_8mGhMGwUqGtaZ2WuUzlLZQfsapQVlcfAFRso/s1600/DSC_7745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNMVUrj2CJAyqtAsORe6rDaGg1Lc8429yRhysAiKWbEFX1YuhN3PWPhm84FZNXygrA-AWqRCeWmVybAGJijUUTG2XC6L5S6pJ3e9tMvG_8mGhMGwUqGtaZ2WuUzlLZQfsapQVlcfAFRso/s640/DSC_7745.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thank you for your generosity, PDA. See you again next time!</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-69007064068076174782013-10-11T20:46:00.003+07:002013-10-12T01:48:53.700+07:00PCV vs. Cockroach vs. Gecko<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Some people exclaim that nature welcomes them in their own backyard or at their doorstep. In my case, nature comes at me without warning in my kitchen. When I wake up in the middle of the night for a glass of water, sometimes a spider is lurking underneath my dish rack, waiting for the right moment to make nightmares a reality. On the days I less-than-thoroughly clean my kitchen floors, a pile of red ants is ready to feast upon my leftovers and my toes as I try to mitigate the mess with rags, bug spray, and baby powder. However, the most common culprit-creatures of my kitchen are the geckoes and cockroaches, the former squirming out of crevices without warning and leaving me unsuspecting poop piles to step on, while the latter has no qualms crawling over my feet as I try to function in my cooking space.</div>
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One evening this week, Mother Nature does not disappoint, as I jump away from my stove due the scurrying touch of cockroach legs over my toes. Physical contact with one of my kitchen's frequent visitors prompts my usual reaction: scream, scrub my feet clean as I shudder at a mental replay of the whole thing, and retrieve a cup to trap the cockroach under and leave behind for hours until I muster up the strength to transport it outside (yes, I'm such a trooper).</div>
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Three minutes and a quick bucket shower later, I return to my kitchen with a plastic cup, only to find the scene of the crime <i>mai sai</i> cockroach. "Oh, you sneaky little bastard," I mentally mutter. I turn around and freeze at the sight of what I can only describe as a National-Geographic-worthy showdown of Cockroach vs. Gecko in my kitchen hallway: </div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6gWZxGe3mODLYGS2vq19UjQ71ktsJWm_9Q5Fn_8kJMDV8VIWDbED1ZEDZAwr2jpl_T0D_i2hf9kMc93iWHfJYm1q5GSlGYppDf8pe4h4ixnJCj9G7g43lmMDcAbZFHt3X8saNYFuVQ8/s1600/IMG_2539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6gWZxGe3mODLYGS2vq19UjQ71ktsJWm_9Q5Fn_8kJMDV8VIWDbED1ZEDZAwr2jpl_T0D_i2hf9kMc93iWHfJYm1q5GSlGYppDf8pe4h4ixnJCj9G7g43lmMDcAbZFHt3X8saNYFuVQ8/s320/IMG_2539.JPG" width="213" /></a><i>The bloodthirsty tokay-gecko, feet firmly sticking to a kitchen wall, keeps its mouth clamped onto the body of a Thai cockroach, struggling to break free from the gecko's clutches and make its escape to the kitchen's floor, where an overanxious American female waits with a camera in one hand and a cup in the other hand. The battle between predator and prey intensifies with every shake of the tokay-gecko's tail and every twitch of the cockroach's legs until suddenly--</i></blockquote>
-- until suddenly, I realize that I'm getting carried-away with the mental narrations and leave nature to run its course as I resume dinner preparations on my stovetop. Fifteen food-preparing minutes pass, and I take a peek at the wall opposite my bathroom: the gecko has left the building, and the absence of the cockroach leaves me to assume that the gecko thoroughly enjoyed its prey.<br />
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As I walk towards my kitchen sink, I briefly reconsider my reservations towards geckoes: <i>They have proven to be reliable insect-removal creatures... And they are cute to look at... Maybe I'm not giving these organisms enough credit. Maybe I could learn to live with -- </i>*SPLAT* I stop dead in my tracks, lift my right foot, and again shudder in disgust: the squished half of a cockroach carcass and some specks of what I suspect to be gecko poop. I waddle back to my bathroom for another round of creature clean-up, and mid-scrubbing hear a slight squeak that I can only imagine is the cockroach's upper-half giggling from the heavens at the sight of me in defeat. As usual, in the battle of PCV vs. Mother Nature, my kitchen-critters have the last laugh.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-68115645174245548562013-10-06T20:51:00.000+07:002013-10-07T08:18:43.080+07:00Student-Friendly Schools: Small Steps, Big Changes<div class="p1">
As a Peace Corps volunteer who visits several schools per week, I've noticed instances of gender inequality within my site's school system. At the primary schools, it is common for the teachers to pull several male students out of class to move school equipment or paint school property. At the secondary school, female students are expected to perform at all community dance performances, while male students are expected to excel in athletics programs. Throughout both grade levels, female participants generally outnumber male participants in academic competitions and student-leader positions, partially due to the assumption that girls are patient and obedient, while boys are rowdy and aggressive. When discussing these observations with my co-teacher and confidante Kruu Keng, she agreed that many of her students are more likely to think about tasks based on gender roles than on individual abilities, with boys often refusing to participate in "girl" activities (craft-making, dance performances) and fighting between boys and girls due to a lack of cooperation. Kruu Keng and I came to the conclusion that since students look up to the teachers for guidance, it is up to the school and community leaders to promote a way of thinking that expands beyond gender roles. But how?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpzrx2QelaKcDmNbjiMeqIEU8n5N4PegW24UvkHDk98JQL_0YF6IGU18yRJQFV1H0NvDEK9YCLD0ILHfvbdOVlCg4bj16899ptigmEgueRbAvb3oBQr_VzofBjddxck9gmgHlapu3kzVE/s1600/IMG_2456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpzrx2QelaKcDmNbjiMeqIEU8n5N4PegW24UvkHDk98JQL_0YF6IGU18yRJQFV1H0NvDEK9YCLD0ILHfvbdOVlCg4bj16899ptigmEgueRbAvb3oBQr_VzofBjddxck9gmgHlapu3kzVE/s320/IMG_2456.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">With our SFS Certificates of<br />Completion</span></td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Last month, Kruu Keng and I attended the Student-Friendly Schools (SFS) Training hosted by Peace Corps Thailand's Gender and Development (GAD) Committee. As fellow PCV and GAD Committee member Julia Schulkers describes on her </span><a href="http://julia946.wordpress.com/2013/10/03/outside-the-gender-box/" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">blog</a><span style="text-align: center;">, the three-day training workshop worked with 15 PCVs and 15 Thai counterparts on how to address gender-based violence in their communities, with the GAD Committee facilitating discussions on gender stereotypes and how they can limit students' capacities to excel in the classroom and in the community. All participants learned how to identify different forms of school-related gender-based violence (physical, psychological, sexual), the causes and effects of gender-based beliefs, the Convention of the Rights of Children (CRC), and how we as educators can tackle these issues and promote children's rights in our communities. By the end of the week, Kruu Keng and I brainstormed our action plan and activities inspired by the SFS facilitators and participants, including a staff presentation on what we learned at SFS, a Student Council training on peer counseling, and a CRC mural contest. Before we got a ahead of ourselves with the post-training excitement, Kruu Keng suggested that we meet with the school headmaster the following week, just to let her know what our action plan entailed. "</span><i style="text-align: center;">Mai bpen rai</i><span style="text-align: center;">, it's just a meeting," I optimistically added.</span><br />
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At the secondary school teacher's lounge the following Wednesday afternoon, our SFS action plan was met with scrutiny on the part of the headmaster. The half-hour meeting was a cross-cultural tennis match, with every SFS idea served met with a hard criticism across the table: a student leadership training is a waste of time, many of the students are too lazy to learn something new, and the students will take advantage of the school and start a riot <i>muan-gap tii Grung-tehp</i> (like in Bangkok) if they are aware of their student rights. After we concluded the meeting with niceties and the headmaster left for a farewell party, Kruu Keng and I glanced at each other across the table and let out a sigh. Feeling defeated, I asked Kruu Keng why the headmaster would think of the students in this way. "The headmaster cares, but the school has never done something like this before, and it is hard for our community to understand," Kruu Keng sympathetically responds. We discuss the future of our SFS action plan, and we decide to go ahead with our plan to facilitate leadership activities for Student Council. I express concern towards the headmaster's opinions about our plans, to which Kruu Keng adds with a smile, "Don't worry, we can still do this! We just have to be creative."</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Student Council team-building<br />exercise</span></td></tr>
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This past Wednesday, Kruu Keng and I co-facilitated a Student Council meeting with the secondary school's fifteen Grade 11 members. During the one-hour session, the students participated in activities highlighting teamwork and trust, as well as discussed ways that Student Council can help the school. At the end of the session, Kruu Keng wrote two questions on the board: "What do you want to see at the school? What do you want to contribute as a Student Council member?" While the scope of activities varied between trash clean-ups, anti-smoking campaigns, and dress-code enforcement, everyone in Student Council expressed the same goals: to achieve harmony between the students and staff, and to encourage students to make healthy choices independent of other people's opinions.</div>
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At the end of the meeting, a Student Council member White thanked Kruu Keng and I for facilitating the afternoon session and expressed her anticipation for next semester's sessions. After the students left, Kruu Keng and I discussed plans for the next semester: bringing up Student Council ideas at the board meeting after <i>bpit term</i> (school break), finding staff members who are interested in supporting Student Council, and promoting SFS to other schools within our sub-district. Although we're well-aware of the road blocks ahead, Kruu Keng and I are confident that with the tenacity of Student Council, we can accomplish a lot starting next month. From the words of the GAD Committee: start small, and significant changes will eventually follow.</div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-29202801842501848632013-09-30T20:20:00.000+07:002013-09-30T20:20:01.381+07:00Ask the Pen Pals Anything<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
With the fall season in full-swing and the U.S. public schools in session, students from Yang Hom Primary School are once again participating in the <a href="http://www.peacecorps.gov/wws/" target="_blank">World Wise Schools (WWS) Program</a> with a third-grade class in Little Rock, Arkansas. Due to the success of <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/06/buddha-does-not-have-christmas-and.html" target="_blank">last year's letters exchange</a>, the new school year welcomed my co-teacher Kruu Meeo with plenty of pen-pal requests from other grade levels, so this year's letter-writing bunch consists of 23 eager Grades Four though Six students.</div>
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Since last week's introductory letters contained the usual get-to-know-each-other sentences ("My name is so-and-so. I am this many years old. I live in this village, that sub-district, this province, Thailand"), this week's assignment was simple: ask your pen pal anything. The vagueness of the assignment confused many of the students, since many of the primary-school lessons rely on memorizing words, copying sentences, and filling in the blanks. However, with the help of our trusty English-Thai dictionaries and a <i>farang</i> teacher double-checking sentence structures, this afternoon's hour-long session ended with a colorful stack of questions concerning color preferences, dietary habits, travel habits, and fears (yes, someone got down to business with that topic).</div>
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<b><u>The Most Frequently-Asked Questions</u></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEa6uRc1bBM_nV6QGqw_AweYBDXz1V9Lf_IpGrqtfm09KaCydhY-jQgYsNOJgPMxtj467_pqzfsR9RoqTssjSmdNwrAj9mvWbqWLGIPEpeqT5jJXXqtywg7kpDpa0Yj7sKx0hRJOrJx0/s1600/IMG_2499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEa6uRc1bBM_nV6QGqw_AweYBDXz1V9Lf_IpGrqtfm09KaCydhY-jQgYsNOJgPMxtj467_pqzfsR9RoqTssjSmdNwrAj9mvWbqWLGIPEpeqT5jJXXqtywg7kpDpa0Yj7sKx0hRJOrJx0/s1600/IMG_2499.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Top's favorite animals are <i>sat liang</i> ("pets"). Yes, all of them.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibDJyX1T4iL9Gvtht2IJvo6E-FjCBekMu8BYBl8Kn_YPi3FjuXaaw2ly6iYr6TdcGZeCsgPJ4irsllkvbeEzUQFH0D2TXgyGZb-k9mhWiHaQj3vLX-On3SqKoLXY-mjl4vdp3Mz6zRqr4/s1600/IMG_2500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibDJyX1T4iL9Gvtht2IJvo6E-FjCBekMu8BYBl8Kn_YPi3FjuXaaw2ly6iYr6TdcGZeCsgPJ4irsllkvbeEzUQFH0D2TXgyGZb-k9mhWiHaQj3vLX-On3SqKoLXY-mjl4vdp3Mz6zRqr4/s1600/IMG_2500.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Orasa likes to play volleyball and badminton, and hopes her pen pal<br />likes these sports, too.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGv6_7el9ZWDB7yKrw1fDaxbNkEBtNGKAWYPw1zCqDx1uR6s3WfRRZXynATziJDja_ksb_didldO5nKNfS-AuPLKl_OqXHF8fEGXkapy3yn-Yvpms0k5c7QVFEzn4QR0lUh2VNQcwlPUU/s1600/IMG_2502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGv6_7el9ZWDB7yKrw1fDaxbNkEBtNGKAWYPw1zCqDx1uR6s3WfRRZXynATziJDja_ksb_didldO5nKNfS-AuPLKl_OqXHF8fEGXkapy3yn-Yvpms0k5c7QVFEzn4QR0lUh2VNQcwlPUU/s1600/IMG_2502.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Thai writing reads "<i>Chan chew Montita</i>" ("My name is Montita")</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVEHg1tfl929KJVSF26RgB89Zj8lve3DjvyJ4kYa-gzqYhjh7kAy0Tx7D82sT652K9uTGl_wrYFzDJjEv-BzOmTHwBMQ9nTjmQ78teoGLPnFiUWu3tWTm0eAxShA7D5N-r1y33rPIUZAA/s1600/IMG_2506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVEHg1tfl929KJVSF26RgB89Zj8lve3DjvyJ4kYa-gzqYhjh7kAy0Tx7D82sT652K9uTGl_wrYFzDJjEv-BzOmTHwBMQ9nTjmQ78teoGLPnFiUWu3tWTm0eAxShA7D5N-r1y33rPIUZAA/s1600/IMG_2506.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small;">The author of this question later tells me that she loves to <i>bpai tiao</i><br />(go on vacation) at the Big C Supermarket in Chiang Rai</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEs4GnDP5gTUx8LEBhenwmZ9jquWwtRdwlrWZmYK-IGmz4mOPovyVpCygkVdE3d2Ik0ps83Jy2hDTOxxWfPUpMkYVoMsQslqmgmdsEqmVXHPhJ3yAsLrgHzQID67eTDWmaIqf85eysVIg/s1600/IMG_2505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEs4GnDP5gTUx8LEBhenwmZ9jquWwtRdwlrWZmYK-IGmz4mOPovyVpCygkVdE3d2Ik0ps83Jy2hDTOxxWfPUpMkYVoMsQslqmgmdsEqmVXHPhJ3yAsLrgHzQID67eTDWmaIqf85eysVIg/s1600/IMG_2505.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not only the most frequently-asked question of the afternoon, but<br />of my two years in the Land of Smiles...</span> </td></tr>
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<b><u>The One-of-a-Kind Questions</u></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUzX3YosPHd0IpR8rnldANfT1ml9Ukv3-TPhlgYa8RlEmltB9ZRxrjq4bUk1eUC7gtj6i8WAF5XvPnhr2JaD5SLzRaKm0SccOWGGQpUIVFNcfuRGxlAJP6-f0VHKb63FiRFMCjW785UU/s1600/IMG_2507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUzX3YosPHd0IpR8rnldANfT1ml9Ukv3-TPhlgYa8RlEmltB9ZRxrjq4bUk1eUC7gtj6i8WAF5XvPnhr2JaD5SLzRaKm0SccOWGGQpUIVFNcfuRGxlAJP6-f0VHKb63FiRFMCjW785UU/s1600/IMG_2507.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nin says she asked this question because it's always on <i>Fate-Boot</i> (Facebook)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yFG2Bvvi-KP5W5Lgkq1P8CGmv0bT267hBsxI7zSumePgPfCAmoU52goG8rjq5hoVyygxp6F5uGhtcbiPwtMc3l7aTrHoLWz_h_Kp4Gzl084OwBo2FanPuCMhZ1BMNZ2xuKzJIq3SpbI/s1600/IMG_2508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yFG2Bvvi-KP5W5Lgkq1P8CGmv0bT267hBsxI7zSumePgPfCAmoU52goG8rjq5hoVyygxp6F5uGhtcbiPwtMc3l7aTrHoLWz_h_Kp4Gzl084OwBo2FanPuCMhZ1BMNZ2xuKzJIq3SpbI/s1600/IMG_2508.JPG" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I hope Dtem's favorite subject is <i>paa-saa anggrit </i>(English language)</span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7t0obkKVxXy8M2CceKUEabarZdYkoh9hZ7AXZzJeJt9mAGIHuuC_yKlcVVGO8mCvbBZUQ_AD5Ru3BBck0eMah4A4sMGbU0phW75wLsgZopAHfzd-5ZR2xAennewPjPID8Y_KW-56Ilbo/s1600/IMG_2509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7t0obkKVxXy8M2CceKUEabarZdYkoh9hZ7AXZzJeJt9mAGIHuuC_yKlcVVGO8mCvbBZUQ_AD5Ru3BBck0eMah4A4sMGbU0phW75wLsgZopAHfzd-5ZR2xAennewPjPID8Y_KW-56Ilbo/s1600/IMG_2509.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh Thailand, if only you knew of autumn's beautiful splendors...</span></td></tr>
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<b><u>And the Most Serious Question of All:</u></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8T1hYS5dEqxTJvPLgjOM-CAycbfyFgNAGnfJWQwJjtmA1fTIYYUSPLRqKneZW1Te50DG0prbUC5vE7PaE7YYi6cRWk53E_JKxRYQqrx3h6tkQgceVTWQvd5dP9H2iUuI3L10HADYiz00/s1600/IMG_2510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8T1hYS5dEqxTJvPLgjOM-CAycbfyFgNAGnfJWQwJjtmA1fTIYYUSPLRqKneZW1Te50DG0prbUC5vE7PaE7YYi6cRWk53E_JKxRYQqrx3h6tkQgceVTWQvd5dP9H2iUuI3L10HADYiz00/s1600/IMG_2510.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I asked <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2013/07/meet-get-chai.html" target="_blank">Get</a> why he asked this question, he responded with,<br />"I want to know if Karl is <i>glua pii </i>(scared of ghosts) like I am."<br />I'm assuming that the banana was drawn as comic relief.</span></td></tr>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3988886399350513338.post-45426231297706969032013-09-27T22:21:00.000+07:002013-09-27T22:21:20.880+07:00An Accident Amongst FriendsIt's a Sunday afternoon, and a group of six PCVs are aboard a <i>rot too</i> (van) about 30 minutes away from Bangkok's Victory Monument. I remember three of us sitting in the front row discussing music genres and lunch plans for the afternoon, when someone notices a car suddenly stopping in the middle of the highway and two feet in front of the rot too, and -- "AHHH!" -- a scream after the first crash and a loud "THUNK!" coinciding with the second crash. All of the <i>rot too</i> passengers are frozen with shock, until the driver shakes off the accident and exits the vehicle to check on the other driver and his passengers.<br />
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"Is everyone okay," one of the PCVs asks. Everyone in our travel group nods, with some people adding that they have slight headaches and muscle aches, but no medical assistance needed. "<i>Okay, mai ka</i>," I ask the Thai <i>rot too</i> passengers. I take the passengers' still-shocked expressions as a confirmation that no medical assistance is needed on their ends, either. While I call our PC Security Officer to notify him of the accident, some of the PCVs joke around to ease the tension ("The driver must have realized that today's Car-Free Day!" "I think this incident earned us a double-cheeseburger!") and the car accident doesn't seem as scary when we have friends to laugh about it with.</div>
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As we wait along the side of the road for a replacement <i>rot too</i> to drive us to our final destination, my neck's right side is starting to stiffen and my right shoulder tightens as I lift my backpack. "Ugh, not again," I moan to my friends, as I briefly explain <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2012/09/accidents-and-breakdowns.html" target="_blank">my bike accident last September</a> that resulted in back pain and an admittedly bad mood. "At least you're not alone this time," someone chimes. Thank goodness for that.</div>
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Although the bumpy 30-minute ride to Victory Monument is no picnic for my stiffening neck and sore shoulder, the continuous stream of jokes and support eases the pain. Our shared anger at a cab driver who refuses to drive me to the hospital ends in lame comebacks and laughter. Phone calls from other volunteers entertain me as I wait in the reception area for my x-ray results. Even two hours later, when I can barely turn my neck to the right and I am drowsy on three kinds of medication, I am in hysterics with several other volunteers in another PCV-turned-patient's hotel room, as we reminisce about our weekend adventures and joke about my inevitable return to the village in a neck brace. With friends like these, the pain is more than bearable.</div>
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It's five days later, and I am sitting on my floor mattress just as I was last September after my bike accident. While I am typing away with body aches similar to last year and a more intense round of medications kicking in, this post is not met with puffy eyes or concern. However, to follow the pattern of <a href="http://klinesc.blogspot.com/2012/09/accidents-and-breakdowns.html" target="_blank">last fall's post</a>, here's what I know one year later:</div>
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<li>In an accident amongst friends, you really can smile in the Land of Smiles;</li>
<li>It's still okay to cry sometimes, but laughter is a great form of medication;</li>
<li>With every pressure a PCV comes across, a support system of co-PCVs, friends and family is sure to follow;</li>
<li>Once my doctor gives me clearance, I'll hop on my bike again; but for now, I will walk around my village and show off my neck brace;</li>
<li>As usual, I don't know what's in store for me during these last six months of service, but as usual, I will definitely be okay.</li>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16319551958565461744noreply@blogger.com0