I have a Thai driver’s license. I have never driven a vehicle in Thailand or any other country that requires me to drive on the left side of the road and be on the right side of the car. Why did I get a Thai driver’s license? Who the bleep knows!?!? I saw the experience as a good blog entry. I have never been to an international DMV (pretty sure this isn’t what it’s called in Thailand). I ventured off to Bangkok to receive my Thai driver’s license (this is different that an international license). I went with the head teacher at Prep, papers in hand to learn what kind of debacle the Thai driving department was like. Surprisingly, compared to American DMV’s (especially Illinois) it was quite efficient (this also might be because we cut the line, but even if we didn’t, it was still better). Because I already possess an American driver’s license, the process was quite simple for me. All I had to do was present the proper paper work and pass a physical test. The paper was easy; passport, work permit, and a medical evaluation (which was consisted of going to a clinic and having a Doctor making sure I was breathing. He literally looked in my mouth and listened to my breathing, done in 45 seconds). The physical test was quite simple as well. There were three parts, the first part was a color blindness test, the second was a depth perception and reaction test, and the third part was a peripheral vision test. They herded us like cattle through the different tests. My only concern throughout the testing was my ability to say the correct colors in Thai. Overall, the physical test portion was an absolute joke. I’m pretty sure the late Helen Keller could have passed this test with flying colors (pre Annie Sullivan). I think for Thai citizens, the test is a little more difficult (maybe actual driving required) but I doubt it. Driving in Thailand is atrocious (the shoulder of the road is just another lane). After a few more stamps on my test, I headed down to get my picture taken.

I sat in the chair smiling, ready for the photo, only to have the man administering the camera telling me to stop smiling. I tried to smile less enthusiastically, but to no avail my attempts at a smile were dismissed. My smile turned into this puckered lip look with my eyebrows raised. The man was not pleased and wanted to take another picture, I said no, I didn’t care. I think he was shocked that I would settle for such a disturbing photo (I have yet to show it to someone without the laughing hysterically). I am now a proud owner of a Thai driver’s license I will never use and has a pretty heinous picture of me.

One tid bit of information. Television shows are often filmed in my apartment complex and this week my street has been filled with orangutans and elephants. It turns out they’re filming a Korean commercial for tourism, which is weird because my condo complex is modeled after France.

I have sent people postcards that had given me their mailing addresses, if you wish to receive a postcard please post a reply with your address and wait for one month for your postcard.

For some time now I have felt a level of homesickness that I have never felt before. This is only natural because I have never experienced such an extended stay outside of the United States before. While I previously believed it was because of the three F’s (Family, Friends, Food) I realized that it is something much different and much more complicated. I have become so disenfranchised by the social flaws of this once peaceful, beautiful, and independent country that I yearn for America’s right winged lobbyists, unethical corporations, and gun wielding Middle America. As unfortunate as that sentence sounds, there is some truth to it. Thailand was once an untapped land of beauty that was self sufficient and peaceful. Now it is invaded with foreigners, not by military force, but rather it seems, individuals exiled from their home countries and looking for a fresh start. The land is inundated with other countries’s unwanted or most wanted. They come looking for jobs teaching English, saturating an already depleted teaching corps.

The Thai government school program is one of great tragedies. The schools are overcrowded and occupied by less than qualified educators. Foreigners are hired because of their fare skin and perceived competence with the English language. Sadly, many of these individuals working for the sole reason of a visa and work permit, so they can engage in promiscuous and unflattering activities with natives. Because of this fact, the international school industry in Thailand is booming. Within the past decade the industry has grown ten fold and shows little signs of leveling off. While these international schools are a vast improvement to the Thai government schools, they are still susceptible to the same problems. Lost in the mix of qualified professionals are degenerates who cloud the environments they work in. Many have a sense of entitlement from native workers and suffer from such a disillusioned state of reality that rational thought completely evades them. Their permanently extended stays in Thailand have left them devoid of the ability to re-immerse themselves in their native lands because of the erosion of acceptable, everyday behavior.

Case in point, a teacher at the school I work at has displayed incompetent abilities to teach students. However, he indicates a wealth of experience to match his grizzled age. His methods of child discipline can be describe as archaic (embarrassment tactic) and methods of teaching is so fundamentally perverse I wouldn’t hire him to teach a crayon. He rarely corrects given assignments, only credits the child as to having completed the work. On rare occasions this may be acceptable, but when a nine year old is learning English, it is imperative for them to understand their mistakes. The only reading students engage in is silent reading, inciting further questions about his ability to adequately educate students. His professional manner is absolutely atrocious and transcends global boundaries. It is nearly impossible to engage in civil conversation with him about his deficiencies because of the aforementioned disillusioned reality. Sadly, this individual is not a worst case scenario in Thailand, but rather an all too familiar one for anyone who has worked in an international school.

Perhaps I am just realizing the realities of the real world, having been sheltered by the protective bubble of UW-Madison for the past few years. I hope this image I painted isn’t the reality but just a micro-segment of society that saddens me. I await my re-immersion back into the United States and hope that the “real American world” does not exacerbate my dim perspective on humanity created by my time in Thailand.

I now realize how long it’s been since my last posting, my hair has been able to grow long enough to warrant a haircut. I’m sure I’ve already lost a few readers because I’ve already posted about a haircut and a haircut is just a haircut. Well, yes, in an English speaking country it’s just a hair cut, but for me in Thailand, it’s an experience. After my last awkward debacle, you’d think I’d steer clear from that same salon, but nooo, I went right back for more. This time I went right after a shower, and left my hair sopping wet. An unsubtle hint that I did not need my hair washed. I sat down in the chair, now realizing I didn’t know how to explain how I wanted my hair cut. I motioned for a magazine to peruse through trendy Asian hairstyles. I do have to say, they ALL looked gay (not that there is anything wrong with that). I finally settled on the most hetero style and the woman formerly known as a man began to cut my hair. She cut and cut, trimmed and trimmed. It was almost as if she was cutting each hair individually. This haircut was taking a painstakingly long time to finish. There were several times when I thought it was all over. She’d occasionally brush off my neck and check my hair in the mirror. Each time she proceeded with the haircut, gently grazing my tips with the scissors. I didn’t even think she was cutting my hair anymore (until I saw the hair on my protective bib). Finally she began the application of hair gel. Normally a quick 10 second task signifies the end of the haircut. This person applied hair gel, reapplied, styled, restyled again and again. She went through at least a dozen different hairstyles before settling on this surprisingly handsome, loosely spiked look. Then she brought out the blow dryer. Instead of blowing off excess hair on my neck, she dried every single square inch of my skull, right down to the scalp! I have never been in so much pain when getting my haircut (this includes the time in 1st grade when my Dad sliced my ear lobe and I was bleeding down my neck. Instead of succumbing to the blinding pain I courageously insisted he finish the haircut). I didn’t understand why she was excessively drying my hair. I am not joking when I say she dried my hair, my freshly cut, I don’t have a lot of it anymore hair, for 40 minutes!!!!!! After this tortuous process was finished, she brought out an even bigger tub of gel and began the gel process again! When I finally got out of the chair, I looked at my watch and realized I had been getting my haircut for exactly 90 minutes!!!! I think I received six haircuts in all of 2006 and those only totaled 90 minutes combined! I do have to say, this was damn good haircut and I will probably subject myself to another 90 min ordeal to get the same haircut.

The other weekend, I had quite the adventure. I went to the Tiger Temple in province of Kanchanburi, which is a wildlife sanctuary run by monks that specializes in the rehabilitation of abused tigers. I was extremely excited for this trip; I hadn’t taken a trip in some time. I ventured off with some friends at the butt crack of dawn to catch our bus for the trip. In my groggy and half conscience state, I wasn’t really worried about my clothing, getting up and dressed was a success in itself. Unbeknownst to me, I had inadvertently worn the dangerous color red. I was not informed of my fashion gaffe until my Thai bus driver said, “Red no good, make tigers mad.” (It’s at this time I’d like to thank my friends who DID know this fact for the “heads up.” Oh wait, they didn’t tell me, maybe this is their way of saying, “Jesse, we want you to be eaten by tigers!”) Since peak retail shopping hours do not begin until AFTER dawn, I had to wait to purchase a neutral colored shirt until we reached the temple.

After a lovely drive through the Thai countryside (oh who am I kidding, I was dead asleep) we arrived at our destination. Here I was able to buy an overpriced black tee shirt with an extremely cool tiger picture on it. If I didn’t already, I definitely looked like a tourist now. Proudly sporting my new souvenir tee, I caught up with my friends who had already gone into the sanctuary (thanks for waiting guys!). Now being from suburbia, I’m not used to “wild” animals. I was instantly greeted by hoards of hogs, cattle, goats, and other animals I’m more accustomed seeing on my plate or in a photo. Perhaps the story of the big bad billy goats scared me more than I previously thought. Anyway, my mission was clear, TIGERS. (In retrospect, it’s funny how I was afraid of the goats I past as I feverishly sought out the live tigers.) Thanks in part to the many signs pointing to “Tiger Canyon” I found what I had come for.

At the bottom of this tiny canyon were 8 tigers, some pacing, some lounging, and some looking for a delectable tourist delight. The tigers were in a secluded area, a thin yellow rope separated the photo crazy tourists and the mighty beasts. The combination of the sweltering heat and being face to face with tigers caused me to sweat profusely. My heart was racing and my breath short. I was about to voluntarily step into a death trap for a photo op and a blog story. Two trained tiger specialists came to assist me (one to guide me, the other to take my picture). The young, svelte lady came to literally hold my hand through this experience. Our hands embraced and she headed for the first tiger. I saw our hands intertwined and saw her moving away from me, but my feet stayed put. She tugged my arm several times to “convince” me it was ok. Realizing my foolishness, I sheepishly followed her. The trainer eased me into the experience with a sleeping tiger. I sat behind the tiger gingerly placing my hand on its back so I could have a picture of me touching a tiger. You can see from my pictures I was quite timid at first, but I eventually warmed up the tigers. At one point I mocked the giant felines by pretending to growl and sit in an attack position. The last tiger I posed with was lying on its back, spread eagle (legs spread wide apart). The man who was in charge of this tiger pointed to what I thought was the tiger’s genitalia, as if he were telling me it was ok to hold it for a picture. As I paused with a puzzled look, he bent over and smacked the sleeping tiger’s inner thigh. I jumped in my skin as I thought, “Good God man, don’t piss it off before I pose!” I managed one more picture before heading toward the “safe” area (you know, the area behind the thin yellow rope). Just as I was to cross the back into the threshold of safety I heard a vicious growl.

One of the pacing tigers was getting agitated and was in a classic attack position face to face with a small 130 lb. Thai trainer (I should mention here that the tigers were chained to hooks safely implanted in the ground). The tiger roared louder and louder, causing frantic tourists to flee the canyon. My friends pleaded with me to leave with them, but like when I first stepped into the tiger trap, I could not move. My eyes were fixated with this man vs. nature standoff. It seemed like this surreal movie experience where everything around me was blurry and silent. I felt by body move towards the great creature, as if I thought I could ease his qualms. Before I could get farther than three steps, I was intercepted by two trainers, who grabbed my shoulders and attempted to pull me the other direction. I resisted, but they kept pulling. They pulled me so hard I lost my balance; I stumbled to my right trying to regain balance. My right foot went back at a 45 degree angle and my body twisted back, my right hand instinctually reached for the ground to break my fall. Simultaneously my left foot came across my body to regain my balance. Unfortunately to my right was another tiger, a tiger whose tail I stomped on with my left foot in an effort to stay on my feet. Clearly not happy, the tiger took a swipe at me with his massive paw as he let out the most ferocious roar my ears have ever heard. Luckily my quick reflexes and the bolted chain prevented the tiger’s claws from reaching me. Now there were three Thai trainers frantically ushering me out and screaming what I can only assume was Thai profanity. The last trainer was too preoccupied with me to notice the tiger that viciously attacked me was still upset and still pursuing blood. I can only hypothesize that he was not worried because the tiger was bolted down. Scared or not, he was standing closer to the tiger than I was, and was just in reach of the beast. As I was being dragged out I calculated his proximity to the tiger and yelled to him in Thai, “Ah neee!!!!” (Ah nee means “here” and this is obviously spelled out phonetically). I realize now that’s not what I should have said, but I don’t know how to say “Look, a tiger is going to attack you!” in Thai quite yet. I was having another surreal Hollywood moment, where everything around me went in slow motion. The trainer turned around and saw the tiger just before the tiger gouged a chunk of the trainer’s leg off. He quickly hopped back in time for the tiger to only nip the bottom of his khaki shorts. A monk then shot the tiger with a tranquilizing dart punctuating the end to an inexplicable chain of events.

Anyone who actually believed that last paragraph, I apologize. It was completely false, not a shred of truth. The first three paragraphs were all true, but nothing exciting happened in the tiger canyon. In reality these tigers are so drugged up I’m not sure if they even know what’s going on. It’s just a perpetual cycle of tourists getting their pictures taken with tigers to show their friends and family. I went in and had my picture taken with four different tigers left, body in tact, received my free water, and proceeded to see the other “wild” animals. Not quite as riveting, but still a memorable experience.