A Very Parisian Christmas

When I was in second grade, our class did a unit on French art and culture, with a special focus on the Impressionist painters. I couldn’t have cared less about the historical context at the time, but I was mesmerized by the images of the paintings we studied, especially those by Monet and Renoir. My teacher brought in baguettes and brie cheese several times, which we ate in the garden outside, listening to her read Madeline and dreaming of picnics along the Seine. Ever since then, I have dreamt of visiting Paris during the springtime, strolling in the in front of the Eiffel Tower with the coolest beret ever perched on my head. Well, I finally made it there, but not during the spring. It's the most beautiful city I've ever seen.

I spent this Christmas in Paris with my friend Elise, as I had put off buying a plane ticket home until prices were at the point where I could have taken two trips to Paris for the cost of a round-trip flight. We flew in on Christmas Eve (myself at 9 AM, Elise at 8 PM), and left the morning of December 28^th. It was a strange Christmas, but a very good one all the same. My trip to Paris was by far one of the, if the, best trip I have ever on. I’ve been to some pretty amazing places in the last few years, but those trips never went as smoothly or were so relaxing.

I was really nervous about being in Paris by myself for a day, although I have no idea why. After my passport fiasco in Prague and the ensuing craziness until arriving in Budapest, I thought could no longer be fazed by travel nerves, but I was wrong. Maybe I was just anxious about being away from my family on Christmas for the first time? Anyway, I was kind of a mess when I arrived at de Gaulle, mostly cause I was so excited I couldn't fall asleep, then overslept and took a taxi to the airport looking like a hot mess. After a train ride into the city, I wandered around Montmartre a bit with my huge backpack looking like a confused version of Dora the Explorer before arriving at our hostel, aptly named “Le Hostel.” That is only one of the reasons why I loved it so. Located one block from the Anvers metro, our window had a spectacular view of Sacre Coeur that took my breath away when I drew back the curtains for the first time.

After freshening up a bit -this is Europe after all people, you can’t wear sweatpants in public here and get away with it! – I made my way toward to the Louvre for some quality time with the world’s art treasures. The Louvre was perfect to see alone, because it is really, incredibly huge and I kept getting lost. I can’t imagine trying to keep track of someone in it, especially if you like to look at artwork at your own pace. In short, I can’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon, especially on Christmas Eve. I’m not sure if the reason I enjoyed the Mona List so much was because it is truly a great work of art or because I had built up so much anticipation, though.

I won’t go through the trip in too much detail, so here are some highlights...

Coming out of tunnel while on the Metro and seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time. Thought process: like wham BAM hey EIFFEL TOWER WOW. Eating the most creamy, smooth goat cheese I’ve ever tried at La Coupole on Christmas Day. Coming around the corner at Trocadero and seeing the Eiffel Tower light show - then having a mini-picnic with champagne with that as our dinner entertainment. Accidentally tagging along with a French tour group at Versailles into off-limit areas...then getting escorted out of the room while 250 + tourists look on. Trying to get a picture of yourself in the Hall of Mirrors without a bunch of other tourists walking in front of you (which is impossible, btw).Gazing at the different brushstrokes in Monet’s paintings at the L’Orangerie. Biting into a multi-colored macaroon at Laduree, and testing numerous French perfumes I can’t possibly afford at Guerlain and Annick Goutal. The smell of decades of old books at Shakespeare and Company; biting into a Nutella and banana crepe while gazing up at Notre Dame. Waking up to the sun rising over Sacre Coeur and Montmartre. Eating at least two more crepes, because hey, why not? It’s Christmas after all. Completing the ‘Tour de Chocolat’ dessert tray with a pear topped with Valrhona white chocolate whipped cream. Exploring a new city with a new friend and feeling so lucky that you have the opportunity to do so!

Happy New Year!

New Year’s Eve in Copenhagen is vaguely reminiscent of what being an extra in Apocalypse Now or Saving Private Ryan must have been like – exciting, but loud and uncertain, with the slightest chance that you might not make it out alive. Unlike in Pennsylvania, people here can purchase full-size fireworks. As much as I love the Danes, their ability to put away large quantities of alcohol already scares me a bit. Adding large explosive objects is maybe not the best idea? Come New Year’s Eve, my street was full of revelers in tuxedos and sparkly dresses, setting off fireworks in the bike lanes and allowing me to see fireworks from 100 meters away. Was it beautiful and wonderful? Yes. Was I convinced a firework was going to come flying through my window? Yes. Happy 2012!

Entries about my Fulbright project and Christmas trip to Paris are coming tomorrow, but for now I wanted to post something I wrote a while back about the meaning of the Fulbright program. Funding is under threat of being cut in the United States. Did you know that the Danish government provides more than half of my grant money? Thank you, Denmark, but I don’t think that’s quite fair to you. You may agree or disagree with some of the things I say here, but I just wanted to express my opinion about the value of my experience – it is more than just being an “academic tourist,” as some have critiqued it. I’d also like to add that the sum of my experience is far more nuanced and complicated than what I’m describing here. It would honestly take me days to try and fully explain what I’ve learned and gained from my time in Copenhagen.

I’ll try to elaborate on this more later. In the meantime, something that I am better coming to understand is that a Fulbright experience is not always something clear cut – one cannot always say: today I accomplished this, I learned this, I resolved this. What I do here in Denmark is not necessarily something that will be completed in 10 months, although that is not to say I do not plan and hope to have something concrete to show from my time here.

The purpose of the Fulbright program is to foster understanding between Americans and citizens of foreign countries. I don’t believe that the need for Americans to connect with people from other countries has lessened in the years since the program was created, although the reason for fostering those relationships may have evolved with the times. Some might ask why Congress should continue to fund the Fulbright Program if America is no longer concerned about going to war with Europe? This is why.

Americans are told that they live in an increasingly interconnected world – and while this may be true digitally and even personally for some Americans, many of us will never have the opportunity to truly interact with people from around the globe. Ironically, we live in a nation whose actions have the ability to impact the entire world. For that reason, it is vital for Americans to try to understand and relate to our international neighbors.

And this is where the Fulbright program makes an important contribution. Upon the completion of their grant periods, Fulbright recipients bring back a level of understanding and experience within their host country that you would not be able to gain through a year of simply travelling. Depending upon their project, Fulbright scholars learn, teach, and work in the institutions of their host country, interacting with the native people and other international scholars in ways that a tourist could never hope to achieve.

Not only do Fulbright scholars bring back understanding of other cultures, but also an understanding of how those other cultures can influence America for the better. Fulbright scholars also have the potential to help the citizens of other countries understand what knowledge Americans can bring to the figurative table, in both a more personal manner and a less intrusive one than our government has often taken in the past. It is part of our role to put a face to America while abroad, or conversely, give our fellow Americans stories and images that illustrate our host country on multiple levels.

Rice

Almost three months ago, before I had ever been to Thailand and the idea of living here was but a robotic answer to the question, “So, what are you doing after graduation,” my host teacher, P’Moo, asked me over Facebook chat whether or not I had ever eaten sticky rice.

Sticky rice? Um, maybe I have? Not sure…so probably, no?

Today (yes, it’s late again) I would like to take the time to discuss my evolving relationship with rice.

Before you quit reading and write me off as a crazy person that is wasting precious, infinite internet space blogging about a simple carbohydrate, you need to understand how integral rice is to Thai culture. Hardly a meal goes by where rice of some kind isn’t consumed. Khao laam, sticky rice with coconut milk roasted in bamboo? An excellent breakfast. Sticky rice and tamarind? A standard Northeastern snack. Ready for lunch? How does basil pork, moo ga-prow, with rice sound? Rice, rice, rice.

To regard rice as merely a staple of any meal, however, would do it little justice. Rice transcends the plate and permeates the Thai way of life more than I would have ever imagined.

If you look at the language, because you know I like to do that, you can see how rice has carved a place for itself into Thai semantics. For example, the verb “to eat” in Thai is “gin khoa,” which is best translated to “to eat rice.” In this context, khoa, the word for rice, represents any food. ANY kind of food. Can you imagine?

Moving to Isaan in the middle of the rice-harvesting season was also the perfect opportunity to see the importance of rice in the country first hand. One teacher told me that, on the weekends, many of my students spent time with their families harvesting rice. I should expect that during this time, class attendance might be low as students would be on the farm helping out. Jane, another ETA, said that one of the teachers at her school remarked that restaurant service was slow during the rice season, because all of the workers were out of the kitchens and in the patties. Such a small grain makes such a large impact in education, on the family unit, and, as the country with the fifth largest amount of land under rice cultivation (thanks, Wikipedia!) most obviously, the economy.

Before coming to Thailand, my attitude towards rice was ambivalent. Rice was a food that I ate at mediocre Chinese restaurants to sop up the grease that pools at the bottom of your plate of General Tso’s chicken . It was the half-hearted center of your average, from the box Hamburger Helper meal. Sometimes in my mind rice even took on negative health connotations. The American diet-obsessed media worships dietary experts, such as Dr. Atkins, who tell you to avoid rice at all costs, or, for God’s sake, choose the brown or wild varieties. As it went, when it came to rice, I could leave it or take it. Frankly, I mostly left it.

Living in Thailand has changed how I now view rice. After learning about the many different kinds of rice, I began to see it as a more diverse, complex food. Then, after a couple of failed attempts to make my own rice resulting in rice cooker disasters, I began to appreciate how much time and attention goes into making a dish that I had deemed common. (The process of making sticky rice is even more complicated than the looser rice we’re used to!) My friend, Eugene, summed it up best in a recent Facebook status. He commented that you know you’re living in Thailand, when, at the end of the day, if you realize you haven’t eaten any rice yet, you decide to make your own.

I’ve found that rice is not part of a meal to be filler or simply a vehicle to get the more important foods into your mouth. Sure, you could treat it that way, but it wouldn’t be fair. Rice is like a best friend that you can count on being there, and if it isn’t, you miss it sorely. Rice is a constant. Rice is your rock. In a word, rice is inevitable. (And, yes, it’s probably also the reason why it’s harder to button your favorite pair of jeans. Not that that happened to me this week or anything…)

After I had told P’Moo that I had never tried sticky rice before, he simply responded, “It’s okay, don't worry.” To me, the answer seemed strange. Should I have tried it already? Have I done something wrong? Where did that question come from, anyway? I couldn’t figure it out.

Recently, P’Moo mentioned this conversation after having enjoyed what is now, hands down, one of my favorite Isaan meals. Finishing a fantastic lunch of grilled chicken and fish, phad thai, somtom, and sticky rice, P’Moo admitted that he had been worried when three months ago I had said that I had never tried sticky rice. He thought that maybe I would not be able to handle eating rice all of the time while living in Thailand and that I would always be hungry and, therefore, unhappy. Luckily for both of us, this has been far from the case.

Eventually, I’m going to go home, and I know there’s going to be one question in particular that’s waiting for me. People will ask me, and I, no doubt, will ask myself, “How have you changed since spending a year in Thailand?” Sometimes change is obvious and fast, like dying your hair bright pink or adjusting your Swenson’s ice cream order at the last minute. But other times change is gradual, slow, yet virtually unnoticed, though it maybe should be. Change like this comes from understanding repetition, appreciating what may seem mundane, and seeing the beautiful complexity of even the most simplistic of structures.

I’m far from done with my year of teaching in Thailand, thank God, but I already have an idea about how I’m going to answer that incredibly self-reflective question.

How have I changed? You know, I really like rice now.

(Tune in next time and I’ll talk about my ridiculous amount of split ends and comment on watching grass grow and paint dry. Thanks for reading!)

Things That Have Happened

Hello,

My host sister's reaction to a bowl of cereal

     Sorry that is has been a while since I wrote anything.  Everything has been going well.  Since I last wrote, I have been spending more and more time with my students.  In mid-October, they decided that I was not as intimidating as I seemed.  Now, they want my advice on everything from American music to buying clothes and asking out girls.  They have also wanted my opinion on topics, such as the FTA Agreement between the United States and Korea and which member of Girls' Generation (Korean k-pop group that my students idolize) is the most attractive (I always tell them that I prefer 2ne1).

Just chilling.

Isn't he great?

Part of my club class

    In mid November, I had a great opportunity to take some of the brightest boys at Geumseong High School to a Youth Diplomacy and Activism Conference in Gwangju (pretty much a model-UN type even that my friend organized).  Before the event, I worked with the guys and helped them create a presentation that other students had debate over.  My guys wanted to talk about the controversy surrounding Dok-do island.  Dok-do is located between Korea and Japan.  For hundreds of years, Koreans and Japanese have debated over who Dok-do belongs to.  Naturally, all the students supported the proposal that my students created.  Despite being nervous, all of my students spoke very well.  I was very proud.

The guys giving a presentation on the FTA (check out the smirk on the right)

At the conference with my students

    As far as traveling has gone, I have made trips to Seoul (for a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner with the ambassador to Korea), Busan, Daejeon, and Gyeongju.  In Busan, I visited a fellow schoolmate from Middle School (small world!).  While in Daejeon, I spent time with some of my closest Fulbright friends and, in Gyeongju (which really happened in October- not November), I attended the Fulbright ETA Conference.  Gyeongju is one of the most historic cities in Korea.  It was the capital of the Silla Kingdom.  Thus, there are many historic sites to check out in the city.  We saw several graves and ancient temples.  The most impressive one was on the side of a mountain.  While walking around, an old Korean woman saw my friends and me.  She decided that she would give us a tour.  She laughed at everything I said, in Korean and English, and was constantly reaching over to give me hugs.  Turned out to be some hilarious cultural immersion.

Some tired ETAs on our intense tour of Gyeongju

At an ancient temple in Gyeongju

This guy would guard the temple

Downtown Busan

World famous Busan fish market

      When not teaching, at the gym, or with my homestay, I now frequently go to coffeeshops and meet with friends from Dongshin University, the local university in Naju.  The other ETAs and I met people by hanging up signs around the campus saying that we wanted to start a language exchange.  In theory, we  would teach the other students English and they would teach us Korean.  In reality, we spend about 25% of the time on Korean and 75% of the time on English (it's really fine because we are making some good friends).  We even met up with a few of them at the Dongshin University festival (equivalent to Gettysburg College's Springfest).  The girl group Girls Day performed at the event.  I was excited to see a k-pop concert but left the event very disappointed.  The dance moves were terrible and the girls lip-sung for only half an hour.  Between each song, they would also strike about 50 poses for pictures.
     When not teaching, at the gym, with my homestay, or at a coffeeshop, I now volunteer.  In early November, other nearby ETAs and I began teaching English to North Korean defectors.  This experience has been one of the highlights of my year so far.  I taught a class to elementary and middle school students with two other ETAs.  That opportunity ended, but I continue to teach another class to students ranging from 14 to 29.  Most of the North Korean defectors left North Korea by going into China.  Typically, they spend a few years in China and save money in order to come to South Korea.  Before we began teaching, we were warned that North Koreans see a lot of anti-American propaganda and may be suspicious of us.  So far, there have not been any problems.  In fact, they are extremely curious about our lives and the United States in general.  All of the students have a strong urge to learn English because they know that it will not only help with job opportunities, but also with adjusting to life in a democracy.  Unfortunately, it is likely that many of the students we teach in this program have gone through some major hardships.  Defectors from North Korea are often victims of human trafficking.  Families are frequently split and, in extreme circumstances, children are abandoned.  I do not know what my students have been through, if anything.  Regardless, they are still excited to come to class and are always smiling and laughing.
    In a few weeks, the semester will be over (AH!).  I plan on spending Christmas with the host family and then going to Thailand for New Years.  After a short vacation, I will spend January interning at the Fulbright office in Seoul.  I will be creating a documentary and short promotional videos for the 20th Anniversary of the ETA program.  In February, I plan on doing some more traveling (which is TBD at this point).  I will also get to bring some of my students to a leadership conference in Seoul hosted by the US embassy.

Hope all is well back home.

Stay warm.

Some holiday cheer at a mall in Gwangju

A Spoonful of Sugar

“I’m usually pretty good about not getting sick. Lucky, I guess,” I said as I clumsily dumped raw meat and wild vegetables into the hot pot and then presumably licked my chopsticks.

Direct quote from a conversation Sunday night. Fast-forward a mere few hours later, it’s two in the morning, and I’m hunched over a toilet, worshiping the porcelain gods. I’ll spare you the details.

There’s something about being sick in a place that’s not yours that intensifies the experience tenfold. Every stomach cramp or feverish chill reminds you of the magical, mystical healing properties of a Warholian can of chicken noodle soup. You fantasize about all of the Law and Order SVU reruns and lady murderer marathons you’d be watching at that very moment in a warm, comfortable bed that is all yours. And then, perhaps with a bit of rose-colored hindsight, you think about how your mom would love to be caring for you right now, waiting on you hand and foot. In reality, she’d maybe just pat your head a few times, throw you some saltines, and then over medicate you. Yes, being physically sick abroad makes you a touch homesick if you let it.

Luckily (and I am lucky this time), Thai hospitality and the hilarity that comes along with being sick in this country more than snuffed the quick flicker of wanting to be back in Pennsylvania on our living room couch. In my careful planning of falling ill, I made the strategic decision of doing so in James’s host mom’s house, an incredibly warm and sassy Thai woman named Mae Du. Not only is Mae Du a mother herself, but also the head nurse of the local hospital. The moment I dragged myself into the kitchen and melted into a chair on Monday morning, visibly unwell, you could almost smell her instincts kicking in. Mae Du was in her element, and I was to be her project.

After describing my symptoms in broken Thai and English (okay, yes, more acting than anything. You can imagine how ridiculous that must have looked.) Mae Du quickly got the picture and declared, “YOU EAT TOO MUCH! FOOD POISONING.” Sounds about right to me.

Mae Du instantly takes control of the situation and within minutes she is making things happen. She gives a series of commands in rapid Thai to her son, Ying, and he is off to the hospital to bring back medicine and a blood pressure cuff. I’m then instructed to make a series of phone calls, alerting the press of my state of being. First is to my parents back in the states, next is to P’Moo, my host teacher. Finally, it’s a little more forced hydration and a follow up blood pressure reading. Ah, yes, almost back to normal.

In very Thai, or maybe more accurately, very Mae Du style, none of this could happen without some humor thrown in (and thank God for that). Mae Du uses her electronic Thai/English dictionary to write out a series of directions for the cocktail of medications she’s sending me home with. Almost finished labeling the pill packets, she types out a final word and starts to laugh. Handing me the device, she points and says in unmistakably clear English, “pitiful!”

In a way being sick here was the quintessential Thai experience. I felt like an inconvenience that was welcomed with completely able and giving arms. Between the medicine runs, the rides home, the food, water and blankets dropped off right at my doorstep, I was left feeling grateful, pampered, and completely blown away by the kindness of those I’m surrounded by. I hope it comes across as genuine as opposed to cheesy when I say it’s difficult to find ways to express my most sincere thankfulness.

Moral of the story (and anyone who has any experience with Thai English competitions knows every story has one): if you ever need to be feeling less than one hundred percent, come do it here in Isaan. You’ll feel like the luckiest, most pitiful girl in the entire world.