Vincent Vega Was Right: "It's the little differences"

In one of my all-time-favorite movies, Pulp Fiction, one of the main characters, Vincent Vega, delivers a classic dialogue with another main character, Jules Winnfield.  Having just returned from an extended stay in Europe, Vincent is explaining to Jules the various differences in law, specifically pertaining to hash, between Amsterdam and in the U.S.  And as Vincent reflects, he breaks it down to this conclusion, "But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is?  It's the little differences.  I mean they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it's just there, there it's a little different."

Well I think that perfectly summarizes how I've been feeling about Thailand, and I mean this in a positive way, as Vincent Vega does.  Here, it's just a little different.  "Example?" as Jules would say.
Well, take water for instance.  We have water that comes out of our taps and shower heads, but no one drinks it.  It would most likely make you sick very quickly.  Instead, everyone drinks drinking water that they get delivered to their house, either in a large 5 gallon-sized bottle, or, as we do, in crates of 1 liter bottles, 20 to a crate.  In our neighborhood, the water guys come by on Thursday morning.  We simply leave our empty crates and bottles on the porch with payment in a small plastic bag, and the guys replace them with full bottles.  How much does it cost for a week's worth of drinking water?  About 90 baht for 3 crates, or a little less that $2.50.

Similarly, we don't have gas pipes supplying natural gas to our stoves, so everyone here has a propane bottle under their kitchen counter, much like a barbecue back home in the States.  When the gas runs out, you call the delivery guy in your area and he's there in 10 minutes.  Ours ran out about 3 weeks ago, so our beautiful neighbor called for us.  The delivery guy came in on a motorbike with this extremely heavy gas tank bungee strapped to the back.  He brought it in, hooked it up, and charged us about 300 baht, or about $8.20.  This should last a couple of months.

But for us, "the funniest thing" about Thailand is the little differences....between the people.  People here, as an entire culture, are a lot more accepting of other people.  Whatever makes you different, be it your physical appearance, your voice, your lifestyle, your religion, your country of origin, is OK here.  It's OK.  In Thai, they say, "mai pen rai." which means several things, but at its core is the idea of "it isn't a big deal."  Therefore, it's OK.  This attitude (or is it a lack of attitude?) is impossible to miss for an outsider.  I have never once seen a Thai person lose his/her cool at another person, though I'm told it does happen occasionally, of course.  And when you leave your house, you see it everywhere.  Buddhists and Muslims shopping at the market. mai pen rai.  A small group of "lady boys" applying makeup as they drink their beers next to a group of straight young men at the bar.  mai pen rai.  A goofy-assed white American (me) absolutely butchering the Thai language as he tries to buy a watermelon smoothie (delicious!) for his two Thai kids who don't speak Thai.  mai pen rai.  And yes, driving your motorbike sans helmet and holding an umbrella with one hand as your two kids sit behind you, also sans helmet.  mai pen rai.  

Perhaps this approach to living is also more obvious to us now because of this year's election in the U.S.  It's an historical time.  Historical in the sense that the xenophobia bubbling to the surface has fouled the air in our country many times throughout history: It was once the Irish, the Italians, the Germans, the Chinese, the Mexicans... the list goes on and on but the pattern stays the same.  We are looking for a scapegoat to sacrifice.  Doing so will solve all our problems, except that it won't.
I wonder if everyone could see and experience the beauty, benefit and practicality of mai pen rai, what would happen?  Could we adopt this attitude just a little?  Could we just ignore the things that make us appear different, knowing that it's not a big deal?

Alas, the little differences are calling me away now.  I have to move the clothes off the clothes line before the last of the monsoon rains come and soak them again.  There's also the issue of cleaning off the gecko poop from the window ledges.  mai pen rai, mai pen rai, mai pen rai, mai pen rai........

The Ice Cream Man!  Only here he comes up on a motorbike with a Nestle side car.  mai pen rai

Losing Weight and Getting Fat

It's been slowly dawning on me, this realization of what is happening to me.  You see, the differences between our lifestyle here and in Montana are actually kind of slight and subtle, so it's difficult to notice the effects these differences are having.  We walk a  line between accepting new tastes and behaviors and finding a way to comfort ourselves with the familiar.  Some basic examples that leap to mind are entertainment and food.  We are starting to get twitchy for NFL Sundays with friends and American beer and homemade nachos that should probably have a building inspector approve its structural integrity before being carried across the house to the living room.  I'm still not sure how we are going to satisfy this need here in Thailand, but we're looking into all sorts of possibilities.  Another example is what we eat on a daily basis.  At home in Montana, it was Mexican at least once - if not twice - a week.  Here, a small bag of tortillas are hard to find, and if they can be found, they are of poor quality and very expensive.  What to do?  We learned how to make our own. Homemade salsa and guacamole are easy and cheap to make here, too.  But other than that, our diets have transformed to rice-based, light and healthy (though predictable).  Rice, chicken, vegetable stir fry again?  Sorry kids, it's hard to shop here and think of new dishes that everyone likes.  Get used to it.

Beer is another thing.  When I first arrived in Chiang Rai, I got very sick for about a week.  I couldn't eat almost anything and I wouldn't have dreamed of having a beer at the time.  After recovering, I felt strangely less attracted to alcohol, at least to having more than one beer at a time.  Even now, two months later, I hold the bottle of Chang like it could explode in my hand and send shards of glass into my eyes.  It gives me a slight sense of danger, as if I have to acknowledge its power, so that now I drink my one beer in a glass with ice and I'm done.

All this has led, for me, into a noticeable weight loss.  Two notches off my belt and some shorts that I can't wear anymore because they just slide down to my ankles.  Ch. ch. ch. ch. changes.  This is what's happening to me:  I am eating fewer times throughout the day.  I am eating less food when I do eat.  I am eating lighter, healthier food.  And I am drinking less alcohol.  This is a result of a mix of my environment and my experiences here, and in the end, of course, I feel a lot better, healthier, and I don't miss half-pound barbecue bacon burgers with fries and two or three IPAs.  Ok, that last part is a lie, but only in theory do I miss meals like that.

Now, what about getting fat?  This is more of a hope I have for the future than a current reality, as we continue to figure out our finances and how to stabilize our budget.  I long to construct a life like The Kinks sing  about in "Sunny Afternoon":

And I love to live so pleasantly,
Live this life of luxury,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.
In the summertime
In the summertime
In the summertime

Many expats move to Thailand because their Dollars or Euros or Kronor or whatever go further.  They can live at a higher standard than they could back home.  For us at present, I don't know if that's true.  At least it doesn't feel like it.  I'm sure that has something to do with the fact that it took me over a month to find a job and we had to spend a lot of money upfront to put down on our house, buy our car, and just secure a lot of odds and ends that were necessary to live.  Now, the dust is settling a little and we're hoping to move on up (to the East side).  I'll let you know how that goes, but I just had an interesting little epiphany about that:  Jess and I are constantly trying to figure out how to have more free time to pursue the activities that make life worth living, like spending time with the kids, being out in nature, enjoying a nice meal, whatever.  On the other hand, we often complain to each other about wanting more money to "get our piece of the pie."  Now it occurs to me that these two things are almost mutually exclusive.  Either you work harder and work more to get more money, or you pull back and take the free time.  Having both is the holy grail!  Is it only a myth?  I'll meditate on that a while and when I have it all figured out, you'll see the infomercial for the answer to it all at 4 AM.


Just kidding!  Here's the answer - for free:

What's happening to me?  I guess I'm getting more philosophical about life - what matters and what may come.  In the end, the conclusion I see coming is, "don't think about it too much - if you can help it."  Life is fleeting.  It's like a bus ride:  You can pass the time thinking about how uncomfortable it is, how boring perhaps, how you wish you could speed up the time and get to where you're going - or you can realize that there are beautiful things right in front of you for you to notice and wonder at and appreciate.  The sunset, rainwater catching sunlight on a lotus leaf or concrete elephants romping in the local watering hole at a riverside park.

Subtle changes indeed.

Stage 2 - in effect

According to the internet (and Princeton University), there are 4 stages of cultural adjustment.  The first stage is known as the Honeymoon, where everything is not only new, but also exciting and interesting and the traveler feels "Euphoric."  He/she finds interest in the slightest details of the new environment.  He/she is motivated to learn and experience new things.  He/she feels like he/she isn't going to have any problems adjusting.  I would say for Jess and me, that period is over.

We have moved into the second stage: Culture Shock.  This period is marked by the traveler's frustration at small problems. Feelings of  helplessness and stress pervade.  He/she is homesick and misses family and friends.  That's us.  The past week has been challenging for us, to say the least. Issues with obtaining my visa, a lack of communication regarding important work related details, kids getting sick...and all the while, you just wish you could go hiking or get on your bike, or just not drive through clouds of blue exhaust.  It all came to a head for me last week driving back and forth between my work and Jess' school and thinking about the endless hoops of visa paperwork and signatures and stamps and at the same time realizing that the one thing I did not want to happen was happening:  I had recreated the same busy and stressful life I had back in Bozeman in 6 short weeks of being here.  Now I need to undo what I have done.  I need to say no to people and not work as much as they want me to.

For Jess, just having had her 40th birthday this weekend, I think she misses home more than anyone. Despite a nice weekend up north gazing at the Mekong River and wondering about life on the other side, the happiness was tempered by the absence of old friends and family.  We are both feeling a little trapped by the language and cultural barriers that exist whether you notice them at first or not. Little things that are so easy to do at home turn into frustrating obstacles here.  And in the end, you realize this is all temporary, so why stress yourself out?  As I said, say "no" to people to give yourself the right amount of responsibility and obligation and enjoy the rest of your time doing what you love to do.  That applies to everyone, not just those living for a year abroad.

Stages 3 and 4 in our cultural adjustment will come eventually.  We will gain perspective and start to feel more at home here.  But right now, the little things that we perceive as "illogical"  or "inefficient" are driving us crazy.  As a brief example, I have to get on a bus tomorrow morning and go to Chiang Mai, three and a half hours away, to go to the U.S. Consulate in order to swear in an affidavit that I am married to Jessica.  Immigration here considers that more valid than the actual marriage certificate. Then I will travel three and a half hours back to Chiang Rai, and even after that, I may or may not have to leave the country at some point in the future, just to turn around and come back into the country as a tourist before I can get a work visa.  According to Princeton University, at some point in my adjustment, I will understand this and accept it, but I'm telling you, right now it seems like that stage is pretty far off.

Until then, we will go to school and work, go on adventures, continue to meet new people, learn about our new country, and have fun; but we will also continue to miss home like hell.

The best neighbors we could ask for while we are living abroad!