It's 4:23PM on Sunday afternoon. My family and I spent the day driving across Sing Buri in dtaa's (grandfather's) old blue pickup - past acres of rice paddies sheltered beneath the lazy sway of tall palm trees reaching towards the cloudless blue sky, scarecrows hanging languid in the midday heat - as we visited nearby Wats and their bustling markets. It was a balmy 95°F today, but I think I'm adjusting well to the Thai heat - both the weather and the spice.
We picked up our language training again this week. It's wonderful to be learning how to speak Thai, again, but I have to admit: 4 hours of language class a day becomes pretty exhausting pretty quickly. Still, my 7:30AM/ 4.6km bike ride to Wat Pikul Thong school for my language class is always one of the best parts of my day. The rising sun over the Noi River casts a dewey light against the stone walls built along its banks. Leafy green islands of lotus drift gently with the current, and the soft chirp of the birds that definitely woke me up sounds more melody than alarm when I'm already awake.
I've found a small coffee shop, nestled in a hut beside Wat Pikul Thong, where I like to spend my afternoons studying (or laughing with a fellow Volunteer, as we all tend to congregate in the same places to study; I know this is a temporary coincidence, and I'm enjoying it while we're all still in the same province). The children from my school and the novice monks kick the futbaan back and forth, and the rhythm of drums echoes through the courtyard surrounding the giant Buddha. The wind plays in the branches of trees whose name I don't yet know, whose orange flowers glow in the golden light of the setting sun. At least several times a day, I think to myself, "I live here," and this is always one of those moments.
Some evenings I stay late at our Hub to play futbaan (Soccer) with the students at Tha Chang Anubaan. When I leave, the kids follow me on their bikes, insisting that I go "faster!" (Ot-aa-haan!) They race me to the end of the street, until I turn to bike along the canal that leads back to my home. Blue herons and soaring white cranes sweep in and out of the water as I ride down the old cracked path, past fields, the Police Station, and the 7-11 market.
Every morning, mee sends me off with breakfast before training, and every evening she sits us down for dinner in front of the TV (usually playing one of my favorite shows - Switched Baby Drama or Breaking-Up-Rich-People Drama; no, I don't know the actual show names). I shower before or after dinner, do some homework, sometimes talk to someone on the phone, play with Neem, and go to sleep.
Life has settled into an oddly comforting routine. I spend my days training with the other volunteers, my 2 hours of after-school sunlight (we have to be home before dark) either playing futbaan or enjoying some coffee, and my evenings with the family, usually studying.
In the TCCS (Teacher Collaborator and Community Service) division of PC Thailand, we are working towards receiving our Teaching English as a Foreign Language Certifications through the Peace Corps. We spend our training sessions writing lesson plans, practice teaching, learning Thai, and also learning cross-cultural skills to help us adapt to a vastly different way of life here in Thailand.
This week, during our cultural training, we learned about Náam Jai, or Water of the Heart. Náam Jai is a Thai cultural value - the value of kindness, sincerity, and generosity. Thai people show each other Náam Jai daily, through simple acts of benevolence. I have found Náam Jai nearly everywhere I go. At the market by 7-11, I can never stop by to say hello without Wii and Nuu feeding me. When I first arrived at my home stay, my youngest sister, Neem, showed me Náam Jai when she helped me carry my helmet and prepared my bike for me. On Friday, I came home to a framed picture of my mee, Neem, and myself from our first visit to Wat Pikul Thong. This was Náam Jai. I help clean the house - I sweep, wash dishes, and I even scrubbed the bathroom on Wednesday - as an expression of Náam Jai. The generosity of the Thai people comes without cost, but one cannot help but return such kindness. And as one continues to receive Náam Jai, it swiftly becomes second nature to show others Náam Jai, as well. It's quite unique, to exist in a culture centered around respect and peaceful coexistence. There hasn't yet been a day when I haven't fallen asleep with my heart full.
It's now 5:35PM. It's nearly dark in my bedroom, my sister, Neem, is napping on the bed beside me, and I'm giving very serious thought to eating another one of the giant cookies I bought at the market today. I don't know what the next two years have in store for me, but I can picture my life here, and it seems a little less scary with every passing day. As different as things are here, I am finding much of what I sought in the simplicity, the people, and the atmosphere of gratitude. I am trusting the process, and I am sending Náam Jai back home to America. My heart is with you. Swadi, and goodnight.