Dear Family and Friends,

My last home was rather a rather sheltered basement apartment and over time, I grew to miss the rhythm of rain. When it rained during my June stay in Woodinville, I quietly sat in bed savoring the pitter-pattering drops on the roof. Now that I’m residing in my penthouse suite, the weather appears to lending me a hand in making up for lost time. 6:15 this morning, I awoke, cold. But had really awakened me was noise: a strong wind was lashing the city and I opened my curtain just in time to watch a few drops of rain turn into a torrent. So much water was flowing from the sky that there was a pouring sound on the roof above me, rather than expected rhythmic pitter-patters. Reluctantly entranced, I opened the window and leaned out a smidge to watch the tall buildings in the distance disappear behind a gray curtain, the wind whip the trees and to peer down at the undismayed motorbike riders soaked to the skin, the school children with their umbrellas and the incongruous ice factory man wielding a frilly, slightly bent, red umbrella.

Generally, my awakenings at Wendy House are at my volition although they begin with a gradual awareness of briefly frantic, hard-working sawing and grinding sounds. These sounds were puzzling until one early jaunt when I passed an open, first-level building filled with upright jagged rectangles of ice and a crowd of men. The men were wielding plastic burlap-style bags, hand-held power saws and a single grinding machine in order to create crushed ice. I’ve seen trucks with their beds loaded to the brim with the ice bags, their gates dripping. And I was amused to watch a motor biker matter-of-factly fasten two bags to the back of his bike with bungee cords. Ice, especially crushed ice, is important for street vendors but I cannot say that watching its production makes me want to rush to the nearest cart for a chilled guava juice swimming with crushed ice.

Today I stuck close to Wendy House (aka “W”) and spent the greater part of the day organizing, corresponding, and on homework. Not that I didn’t take a break in order to visit Gourmet Market for water and a loose-leaf tea strainer. I don’t believe that Thailand regards tea with the same solemnity and necessity that Japan and China do, so I’m still accumulating the necessities in order to make a decent cup of tea in my room. Having deemed the plastic cups in my room insufficient, all I now lack is a mug. A friend at work had given me the perfect Starbucks mug for Christmas but I deemed it unnecessary to bring it with me – a decision that I now regret. I’m going to buy a mug so every shopping journey, I keep an avid eye out for mugs and sadly for Thai commerce, I’ve finally decided on one of those Starbucks city mugs (Chang Mai) for both size and price (250 B).

Interestingly, I’ve found that while hanging out in the “W” café with a computer does nothing for my social life here, hanging out with my CELTA pre-task homework is like hanging an “open for business” sign. I was tucked away at a comparatively quieter table with my iPod and my coursework when a British man stopped to inquire if I’m a teacher. I told him that I wasn’t as yet but that I’m about to take the CELTA. He himself is a teacher and it wasn’t long before I was inviting him into the other chair at my table and trying to give him my leftover dinner. His name is Mike, a 63 year-old aging roué, who has been teaching TESL for 14 years. In a long, mostly enjoyable conversation in which he did most of the talking, I learned a lot about his background including that he smoked dope in to obtain his BA in modern art (photography) and that he took up teaching English after being hurt in an accident. He gave me a good quality run down on what it takes to be a good English teacher: empathy, understanding the difficulties, and a bit of showmanship. He told me that he had noticed me a few times before stopping to chat and that he had said to himself “I’ll bet she’s a teacher” and was tickled to realize that he was right. I found this both flattering and vaguely alarming. I was almost wondering if this was a pick-up except that he had told me that he was in Bangkok to research early retirement on a Thai island somewhere and that he “likes Thai girls.” He may like Thai girls but it was apparent to me that he was a bit lonely.

Anyway, not long after Mike went around the corner to do battle with a Wendy House computer (while he is definitely teaching savvy, computing appears to be a challenge: I had offered to help him and was quickly forced to explain the concept of URLs as addresses), Paul stopped by. Paul is also British, more my age, and is likely in my class at ECC. Paul has been living in South Korea for 6 years, has a South Korean girlfriend who teaches English, and apparently is ready for some career advancement so he’s taking the CELTA. It was cheaper and easier for him to come to Bangkok vs. attempting the CELTA in Seoul. You can bet that there will be a point when I talk to him about jobs in Korea.

After my social hour subsided, I returned to homework and when my computer notified me that it was low on power, I went to bed.

My dearest friends and family, if you are at all concerned about my seeming lack of “taking in the sites,” I must assure you that this week is not about Bangkok as much as it is about me taking the time to physically recover from Perkins burnout, from the hectic last few weeks of shutting my life down, from the emotion of saying good-bye to all near and dear, and to rest up in preparation for CELTA studies. Also, generally, part of my intent is to stray from the usually trodden path to wonder at modern ruins, cheer the stray dogs, shop at Gourmet Market, learn to say “kab koon kaaaaaaa” (“thank you”) (I’ve finally mastered a word in Thai!), and to quit living every moment of my life crammed to the brim with “musts” and “being short on time.” Ok, feel free to openly laugh at that last statement (or at the very least appreciate its irony) because every day I find myself making a list of things to do and congratulating myself on accomplishments.

That said, there are lots of must-sees in Bangkok! I’ve been reading up, listening to other tourists here at the “W” and have begun a list for the occasional weekend block of time or after school is done. I should very much like to visit the Grand Palace, take a canal tour, visit the Reclining & Emerald Buddhas (at various their famous wats), go to the Jim Thompson house, visit the floating market, and go to Bed (nightclub… use your imagination!). I’m craving a swanky cocktail at the Vertigo lounge and have heard from several different sources that the Thai Massage School near Wat Pho is the best place in town to get a cheap Thai massage (which doesn’t sound at all like a relaxing massage). Apparently there are several nice high teas in the area, including one at the famous Oriental Hotel, and I absolutely plan to visit the old Siamese capital of Ayutthaya before departing from the vicinity. All of this plus full-time school? I don’t think my lists of things to do are at all in the past...!

Unfortunately, I still have a good amount of homework left so today I’m going to work on it… but take a break and go explore the Jim Thompson House – a famous attraction that I was amazed to read is right across from the MBK & Sports Stadium (which is where I am!). The Jim Thompson name is apparently really famous around here as Thompson almost single-handedly resurrected world interest in Thai silk – and made himself a pretty fortune while doing so. According to Janice McDonald’s “Why a Travelgirl Will Want Several Nights in Bangkok” in Travelgirl magazine,

“[Jim] Thompson was an expat American who single-handedly helped re-establish the Thai silk market after World War II. Of dubious background, Thompson was rumored to have CIA ties and disappeared mysteriously in Malaysia in 1967. His house is a magnificent example of traditional Thai architecture in which the teak building is elevated off the ground.”

To this day there are Jim Thompson stores selling Thai silk and according to one of my Australian cooking peers, excellent cookbooks.

I’ll keep you posted.

Love,

Laura