One suitcase, one luggage bag, one box filled with books, one backpack, and a purse for the handy items. That was my life. Funny enough, I have more possessions to transport in Thailand than I have possessed in the last year. With my luggage in the boot I peered out the window of my Thai counterpart’s car, waving last goodbyes to other volunteers as we pulled away from the hotel and eventually the city.
The principal of one of the school’s I will be working, and my new supervisor, is a classy gal. To be a principal in Thailand is a highly respected job and one usually reserved for men. The image I conjure of her stems from when I came to visit the school a few weeks back on a site visit. I was sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch, when I look over to see her in her government uniform (think tassels) and pumps, holding a vintage Thai umbrella with ornate flowers painted on it. She held it like Mary Poppins, wading through the beams of sunlight that seem to follow her everywhere she goes. It is only appropriate that she is also the owner of a well established elephant camp in Chiang Mai. Her mansion is located within the city of Chiang Mai, which is where I spent my first two nights.
After enjoying the luxury of a hot shower and a sit-down toilet, I hopped in the car, unsure of what the day would hold. We headed for Pat’s elephant farm where she said she had a meeting to attend. We drove far out into the country, surrounded by a sea of green rice paddies and hills. There were dozens of elephants in barn stalls, performing shows, giving rides to tourists. I have my qualms with using animals as a tourist attraction, but I had to admit they were pretty darn charming and they seemed happy enough. Plus, who can resist watching an elephant paint a picture?
Pat was busy doing work related activities so I was set free upon the camp, a rare opportunity in this country where my hand is held when I cross the street. For once I was not the only white person in sight; there were heaps of tacky tourists here so I happily blended into the crowd. I watched the elephant show several times, fed the baby elephants bananas and bamboo, raided the buffet on a couple of occasions and settled on daydreaming and watching the elephants bathe in the river. The meeting looked to be nearly over, but I should have known better. The meeting turned out not to be for the elephant camp employees, but for all the principals in the area. After the powerpoints commenced the principals received complimentary elephant rides, in which I took partook.
Everyone was walking down the river and I was ushered to join in on a bamboo raft. Mine sank a little, but the cool water felt great after a hot day. Several Huck-Finn style rafts floated along, resembling the jungle cruise at Disneyland, though I couldn’t help but think that it should feel the other way around. Despite their respectable suits and ties, a few shots of whiskey turned those twenty principals into screaming monkeys, hopping from raft to raft as we sailed down river. By the time we reached the shore it felt more like a frat party than a work day.
We returned to the elephant camp to find numerous bowls of food scattering the tables of the restaurant. I focused on the food while my new friends focused on the whisky. Eventually I gave up trying to appear like a nice girl and let them pour me a red wine. One of the only other women at the party came to sit next to me and noticed my drink of choice. I was immediately embarrassed, knowing that it was often considered inappropriate for women to drink in Thailand. However, rather than shunning me, the woman was inspired by me. She decided if I could do it, she sure could, so she finished the bottle. One day and already I was encouraging change. I couldn’t have been prouder.
Naturally, it wasn’t long until they broke out the karaoke. The thing that always amazes me is that Thai people actually want to sing in front of each other. They take it very seriously, singing with the intense face of a ballad singer to keyboard melodies. Of course they begged and begged me to sing, but I refused over and over. I was the kid in choir class that was encouraged to lip-sync, thus these days persuading me to perform karaoke usually takes an obscene amount of liquor. Unfortunately, they were relentless and I was near sober. It got to the point that they were dragging me onto the stage and I had no choice but to sing in front of an entire restaurant the only English song they had on the machine: Jingle Bells. Luckily, now that they have heard my voice it is unlikely they will make that request twice.
Atrocious voice or not, I truly inspired the next singer. He dedicated his song to me, in which the lyrics described how I was more beautiful than his wife at home. Even though I understood this in Thai, several people felt the need to reiterate it in both languages over the microphone throughout the night. Just imagine if I had worn makeup.
Like any Thai party this one was not over until the giant fish on the table had been devoured and some poor soul had become absurdly drunk and made a fool of himself. I spent most of the night smiling and nodding in confusion because everyone wanted to talk to me, but while I understand a bit of Thai, I don’t speak the slurring over the blaring speakers dialect.
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