april 2008 story contest winner

Congratulations!

Debra Friedman
Teach in Thailand

"Paknam"

At the mouth of the Chao Phraya river, where the water flowing from Bangkok begins to empty into the Gulf of Thailand, lies Paknam. This is where I lived, taught, and changed forever during my time in Thailand.

When I first arrived to Paknam, I was shaken by the enormity of how different and overwhelming my new surrounding felt. Despite trying to come to Thailand with no expectations, I inevitably did.

Buzzing traffic, choking smog, shacks and shanties strewn about. I was in a city. And aside from my roommates, I was the only Westerner there. My new neighbors let me know it too.

Initially, the constant immersion to such a different environment was more than just a shock to my system–it was an earth shattering collision of two cultures that cannot be described in a few vague words or measured by any concrete system. After being told by countless guidebooks that I was coming to the "Land of Smiles," a place where I would be greeted with open arms and admiration, I was disillusioned to find that my new environment wasn't quite such a comfortable place. People smiled, but as I came to realize, a smile can mean a million different things in Thailand.

Yet, while unnerving, I was still in complete awe of my new life. Simple things like sitting across the street watching my dinner being cooked in a large wok, or just finding my way to the post office were amazing tasks that felt so surreal for the first few months of being abroad. And then of course, there was teaching.

Teaching was by far the greatest challenge I've ever faced. But the thing about all great challenges is that they are always the most fulfilling and rewarding achievements in your life.

In school, beaming and genuine Thai smiles greeted me with every corner I turned. Exuberant students were so happy just to see me, grab my hand, or try and talk with me using what limited English they had acquired. The teachers were equally as kind, and having this home in the middle of a place that felt so foreign was a precious sense of security that I lacked just making the 5-minute walk from my house to the school.

Adjusting to a new culture is painful at times–there is no way to get around it. Your mind, body, and soul are literally being stretched to see and think about the world in a different way. At the start, it's easy to be blinded by all the new stimulus; so much so that you can't even see how magnificent your new world really is.

This is how it was for me at the start, until I took a stroll one day, braving the stares and the occasional jeers I received from those passing by, to what quickly became my favorite spot in Thailand. I walked through the maze of unfamiliar people and buildings until I couldn't walk anymore. This is where I found the city noise began to fade, dissolving into the peaceful, yet still bustling epicenter of Paknam.

The center of Paknam is marked by a large concrete foundation that sits between the Sukhumvit highway and the water. It is the heart of the community, where people come to watch the sunset, exercise, or meet up with friends for an evening meal. For me personally, it was the one place I could escape the chaos of my new world and the cloudiness of my rapidly revolving mind. It was a pillar standing strong amid a wobbly sea–both literally and metaphorically–whereby I could measure my progression in adapting to this new life.

Here a culmination of moments combined to move me; to lift me out of my culture shocked fog into the clarity of revelation. It was here I first laid eyes on the river and could physically place myself on a globe–exactly halfway around the world, comfortably tucked in the nook of Thailand, where the South China sea rested up against the thick concrete platform at the brink of my city.

It was here I gathered on the night of the King's birthday to celebrate with fellow school teachers, donning yellow polos, holding yellow candles, and feeling a series of exhilarating chills as the mass of people sang harmonious songs filled with love for their auspicious national symbol, leader, and father figure.

And it was here that I came near my last day of teaching, finally able to slow down the tremendous world I was for the first time truly experiencing, in order to really take in the otherwise ordinary sights unfolding right in front of my eyes.

A young couple sat and watched the sunset while sharing a Thai delicacy bought from a nearby street vendor. Just beside them stood a fisherman, calmly casting his pole into the rippling water and picking up quite a few small fish.

Behind him, some teenage boys were jousting with personally crafted swords while hoards of other people ran up and down the complex doing laps. Children from my school were there too, sharing an afterschool ice cream with their parents as they held hands and walked home. One young girl was learning to ride her bike as her dad proudly cheered her on.

Sitting still as stone, watching these moments, these cultural snap shots of day-to-day life in Paknam, I finally understood how special this place, these people, and this adventure really was. And being able to observe the scene without feeling incredibly out of place, as I had many times before, made me see how much this little community had become like a home to me, in spite of how uncomfortable it felt when I first arrived.

Living in a foreign nation like Thailand, assimilating to such a strangely fascinating culture instead of being catered to by it, is so much more magnificent than visiting as a tourist. Learning about the people and working towards being an accepted and even an appreciated member of the community is a rare and precious life event.

True, it is difficult and at times exhausting. But the difficulty pales in comparison to the benefits; like how fascinating it is; how much you learn about yourself; and how many invaluable bonds you form with people you'd completely overlook if you had come whirling through on vacation.

On my final Friday of teaching, I sat for a long time pondering these realizations as I stared out into the sunset, which drops each night before the distant shapes of the Bangkok skyline. This sunset is not a breathtaking site by normal standards. Those type sunsets were abundant on the beautiful islands dotted all around the country, but they weren't here. In the view of a Paknam sunset, you'll see smog in the air, obtrusive ships in the sea, and dirt mounds all around. But even so, it's probably one of the most beautiful things I've ever witnessed. It's something you can only understand if you've been here, and perhaps that's what makes it so extraordinary.

Walking home that night, heading back into the noisy traffic, a motorbike came out of nowhere–as it often does–startling me out of my self-reflective daze. But when I looked up, I was met with a smile and a "Sawatdee" from a father and his young daughter. I will never forget how great it felt to be able to answer back without so much as a seconds thought.

It takes time to learn about the real "Land of Smiles." It's not a place that any guidebook could ever sum up with a few meager pages that seek to stereotype million people. It's not a place most tourists ever get to visit either. But once experienced and truly appreciated, it is a place that may very well make you never want to leave.