Blog 7 - Idioms and Idiots

Well, today was weird. I had to explain a list of English idioms for Jack. I never thought how weird idioms were before I had to teach someone using limited language with next to no knowledge of British culture.

“Break a leg” – I attempted to make stories about the Globe theatre and Shakespearean actors. He didn’t know what a Globe theatre was had only a rudimentary grasp of what a Shakespeare was. Therefore the seating arrangements of the theatre, about poor people drooling onto the stage and making actors fall over was replied with a blank look and a polite smile. When he failed to understand – quite rightly – my frankly shite explanation, I spun a web of bullshit – one of the worst webs I find – about how people at a theatre would put their arms onstage and people would fall over them. That seemed to work.

“Gets to me” I started with chalk stick figures, always a last resort and it looked like someone firing a comically oversized bow and arrow. Jack nodded, but he’s probably just being sympathetic. “Face it” began my tale of masculinity, power and the fight to defeat everything you run away from. After more bullshit spinning, he got the right end of the stick.

“Bless you” was particularly difficult to describe, primarily of what the Black Death was and why people should be blessed, but with over-exaggerated miming on a par with a drunk Englishman on a beach holiday in Spain trying to tell the bartender to go back to his own country and sheer dogged determination, this one was understood. “Blue blood” turned slightly racist, “blood from a stone” was tricky for people as logical, smart and literally minded as the Thais and don’t get me started on “raining cats and dogs”.

Then began one of the most surreal moments of my life. He wanted a list of English slang, and it was difficult trying to think of slang that did not concern the human genitalia, sexual preference or offensive names for people from Manchester or Liverpool. I realised how sordid much of the English language is. I had to resort to slang that was “in” before I was even born. “Wassup”, “wicked” and “guv” deigned to show their faces, and by extension disco medallions and wafros worn without irony. Still, “mate” “cool” “bezzies” and “awesome” made the list, and Jack diligently began use of these in conversation, I left school today to the call of “see ya mate”. I feel kind of bad, a few days ago I met a mild mannered and impeccably polite Thai man, who now sounds like an American caricature in a shitty sit-com. Paradise lost and all that.

Another break down of communication happened today. I went to buy a few days worth of bread, I said “see” (four) to the stand owner. She misheard me and assumed “sib”. When I looked back she was stuffing 10 bread rolls into my bike basket and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to put 6 of them back. She’d barely sold any and it was getting on for 3pm. It serves me right for trying to flash my new found language skills when they’re not needed. She speaks perfect English when it comes to numbers. My accent and mangled Thai just confused her. My fridge is now dominated by bread rolls, rapidly growing stale. Guess that's breakfast sorted for the next week and a bit.

Adventures of Henry - Sculture Garden

Henry in front of a giant seven headed snake. A giant seven headed snake of peace, apparently.

 "Yeah, that guy. He didn't pay for a 1st class ticket. Take him out"

Here in front of a beautiful scenic view. What do else do you want? Sarcasm?

 His snake hat puts my trilby to shame

That means something important. I'm sure of it

Again, hat envy

I am an elephant man riding a giant rat and festooned with ribbons. Your argument is invalid.

Stone swords never took off. Not quite sure why

Wait, is that a fish... or?.... Well, he does look smug

My trilby is better than his hat. Though I could totally rock the medal look.

Young love, except some twat encased us in stone. Honestly, this was a let down considering giant snakey death-hat

The next logical step in evolution for the octopus

Apparently these are human eating trolls. I like the beak

Not sure what is going on here. Since when to postmen have machetes?

Blog 6 - Teaching and Campness

My schedule:

Monday – 8am-12pm lessons – 1 hour lunch break – 1pm-4pm lessons

Tuesday – 8am-12pm lessons – lunch – 1pm-3pm lessons – sport

Wednesday – 10am-12pm lessons – lunch

Thursday – 10am-12pm lessons – lunch – 1pm-3pm lessons

Friday – 11-12pm lessons – lunch – 1pm-2pm lessons

Overall, I’m happy with the schedule. I spend maybe 30mins at the end helping the teacher with some extra work and English skills, and the lunch is amazing. My choice of noodle soup, various rice dishes or pad Thai, all cooked right in front of you, with fresh ingredients for only 20 baht. (Pronounced “bah”, as I found out only this morning).

The teacher I am helping is called Jack, he’s an ex-Buddhist monk. Many monks only serve as full monks, orange robes, collecting alms for the poor, praying for hours at a time e.t.c. for a few years, in return for education and free bed and board for much of their life. It’s often a way for less financially affluent families to unload a spare son onto the church, and have them educated. Jack graduated from teacher’s university recently and has landed a place as a full English teacher at the college. He’s a great guy, very neat and organised, as one would expect from someone used to restrictive lifestyle for a decade and eager to learn from me. It’s kind of odd, he’s a 26 year old graduate who asks questions like a toddler when faced with a long car journey. Only instead of “are we there yet?” or “when can I go to the bathroom?” it’s “can you give me the story of Jesus and his teachings?”, can you list many famous European scientists and their achievements?” and “what is the state of Buddhism in England?”

He seems genuinely interested in a range of subjects that frequently keep me on my toes, and lunch breaks are really enjoyable as I spend most of them lecturing him and a gaggle of students about life, the universe and everything. They didn’t get my “42” joke. I think a young Thai boy wants to be a scientist when he grows up, so I spent today answering questions about how scientists are regarded in British society, the various stages of university you need to do as well as bursaries, loans and foreign students.

There are a variety of classes, as I’ve mentioned. I must say I enjoy the class made up of girls the most. This isn’t me being a perv, misogynistic or bias. I can justify myself! The girls seem a lot more eager to learn than many of the boys, or at least more open about their enjoyment. Many male students are very self-conscious or even shy if you try to ask questions or ask them directly to stand up and speak. The girls however, ask a lot of questions, always read confidently and respond well to corrections and constructive criticism. Amongst them is also my favourite student, Mikey. He is without doubt the campest Asian since Gok Wan. Like Thai Chris Colfer. All I need now is an Asian Rachel and I can begin filming Thai Glee(!). Nevertheless, he is also very eager to pick up English and always very hard to pronounce difficult words correctly.

It’s not just my teaching though. I’ve picked up a lot of Thai off my students. I can now count up to 10 fluently, up to 100 sort of, make conversation and say “I love you”. Now all I need to learn is the Thai for “It’s not you, it’s me” “we should see other people” and “you may want to get tested, turns out a banana skin is not adequate contraception”.

Blog 5 - Excel and Mosquitoes

I’m writing this blog to avoid smashing my face repeatedly against the nearest hard object.

Forgive me if I make a “that’s what she said joke” to alleviate the suicidal tendency.

What could have brought on this mood? Lack of faith in the idea that humanity will ever dredge themselves up from this pit of shite we live in? The fact I whacked my head on a low doorway recently? The cold and empty vacuum of space that lurks scant miles away as we sit protected in a flimsy layer of cloud and physics?

No. The answer can only be: Microsoft Excel. I’ve spent the last half hour doing my budget. Filling in details of food I’m buying, gift allowance and transport for the next 15 weeks. That’s a lot of scrolling up and down, typing in letters and numbers followed by * (how the fuck does that mean multiply anyway?) and incomprehensible formulae that screw themselves up for no apparent reason. If any of you are nosy/intrigued/born to be accountants I’ll upload a screenshot after I pick my teeth from the desk and stem the blood flow. Still, it’s all done, and roughly I will have 4,164ish Baht left at the end of my stint in Nong Khai without plundering my ISA or current account. 

Following up on what could be the most depressing blog intro so far since Linkin Park announced “Crawling” back when the Millennium was young and exciting, I want to point out something that still makes me laugh.

Thai Ferrero Rocher is called “Success Chocolate”.

This marks the end of my second day of teaching. I teach at a college literally 10 minutes cycle from my house. It’s a mixed school in the same way that Bethany School was mixed. It’s a vocational college, historically for boat building, but now for a variety of craft work, traditionally in Thai culture, this is a male – dominated area. However, there is a great department of language and general smart-arsery that attracts more than a few girls as well.

Apparently they’re well known for their high quality of English teaching, but my place there is very important to them. Many Thais learn English, but only reading and writing skills. When it comes to speaking, they have little idea of how to pronounce much of the language, and therefore is slight use in modern industry. Having an actual native English speaker – accent and all – gives the student body a great advantage. Even English teachers, who have a degree from a “Rajabhat” university have only some idea of how words should be pronounced.

So, even some English twat can become very useful. And I consider myself very English, and very much a twat. I’ve spent the past two days helping a variety of students, 14 to 20, to accurately speak English. I feel like I’ve made some impact on this community, and therefore the world, and can go to bed happy.

That is until I wake up to find mosquitoes have used every spare ounce of my body as a buffet. An all you can eat buffet, with free entry, neon lights and scantily clad mosquito hookers seductively waving in patrons.

And by patrons I mean creatures of pure hate winging their way straight from the noxious fumes of Satan’s most unclean orifices.

Enjoy the mental image!

As far as I can tell, this is a crude drawing

of a penis, in tipex, on the desk of the classroom.

Different continent, country and culture.

Still a penis

Adventures of Henry - Bangkok

Now for a moment I know at least two of you have been waiting for - the adventures of Henry Bear. (Captions describe the photo above)
Here in Bangkok, posing with a drink I can only describe as "green flavour"

Seen here beside a Bangkok dual carriageway

Outside a great noodle restaurant. I got really odd looks for this shot.

Surveying my quarters on the sleeper train. He wasn't amused

"Look, I'm sorry, I couldn't afford first class. You'll have to share a sink with the ordinary people. No don't be like that, please."

Tune in when I can next be arsed for Henry's travels around Nong Khai sculpture garden!

Blog 4 - Orphanage and Market

Thursday and Friday mark my first introduction to the government run orphanage for young boys. Getting a “minibus” – essentially a tuk-tuk on steroids across the motorway, me sticking my head out the side enjoying the view. Kind of like a 6ft 3, trilby-hatted Labrador. Without the adorable ears and tail. Still pretty fluffy though.

We arrived and were greeted by a veritable hoard of Thai children running towards us. Put them in pointy helmets and arm them with swords and you have the battle of Stanford Bridge all over again. Except with only one Englishman. And an Australian and an American. And a distinct lack of sea, and a bridge for that matter. Fuck knows where Stanford is anyway. But apart from that, identical.

Where was I? Oh yes, Thai child hoard. We had our hands taken and were dragged towards a large, open building surrounded by fields and buildings. I was eagerly shown the turkeys and chicks, wild pigs and ducks that were kept and tended by the boys and staff. My camera was swiftly relieved from me and was returned after an hour or two. Some very odd photos, and odder videos. I’ll upload one when I get the chance. The kids love anything technical, my camera amused a group of them for most of the afternoon, they changed most of the settings and used programs I’d never even touched. I only use auto-focus, the photographical Philistine I am. Basketball was fun, as Kevin and I were soundly trounced by some unnaturally good 8 year olds. Still, I scored a few by virtue of being able to slam dunk and block most shots with merely a swipe of my arm. The rest of the afternoon was taken by being hugged by a mob of children, and having them hold my hand. Many of the children lived on the streets, more have some sort of mental disorder, so personal contact and reassurance is very important to them. Emily, the American girl, was in high demand for hugs. Can’t imagine why.

The kids were real posers. Moment a camera was shown, they immediately got in the shot. Fingers almost instinctively making peace signs, smiles appearing and heroic poses struck. It was a really fun couple of days, and I like to think we made a difference to them. I’ll probably be seeing them many times over the next few months.

I examined the market for a few hours today, and barely scratched the surface, as I’d guessed. Still, there were a few things that attracted my notice. Not always a good thing. For example, full suits of SWAT body armour, a T-shirt proclaiming “Always watching you” with a picture of a stick man drilling a hole in a wall and looking at a stick woman, and an anime Hitler t-shirt. Re-read that again. Take it in.

It was Adolf Hitler, in the 1940’s most fashionable Nazi attire, in anime style, big, round eyes, smile on his face, standing making the peace sign and leaning in the way all the cool kids do whilst “Adolf Hitler” was emblazoned in a big “funky” font beneath it. I was stunned, was this an example of irony, the fallback of many racists? A misunderstanding on a colossal scale? A tasteless joke? I considered buying one for my dad. He owns the documentaries; he owns the books, now he can own the t-shirt.

Plenty was going on in the market, I was wondering if I could wear a full SWAT gear and carry a 4ft Katana through customs. My next thought was that I could put fluid over 100ml in my hand luggage, and that would probably distract them long enough to sneak through. Would a sword fit in the overhead compartment? The next was the sheer amount of stuff for sale, gift shopping will take the same amount of thought and effort as a PhD in theoretical physics. Well, nearly. The compromise is finding something that is in the Thai style, but will still be worn and not gather dust in the cupboard. There were schools of Thai students wandering through the market. I frequently got the feeling I was being stared at, looked up and made eye contact with a blushing teenager, who then looked away. I do bang on about how attractive I am to Thai people. Not that I’m covering up some sort of deep seated insecurity or anything.

I’ll be uploading photos when I can, hope the weekend is good for all you.

Blog 3 - A Low Point Of My Life

Today, I and Kevin (another volunteer) attempted to teach 10yr olds “basic” maths. We failed miserably. That is all. BOOBS