If We Were Having Coffee Together Now, I Would Tell You…
As I write this post, I sit in a charming Thai coffee shop, appropriately named “Coffee Garden,” as I am surrounded by lush, verdant hanging plants, succulents and shrubbery. From my view out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, I see a small pond filled with goldfish and an outdoor patio adorned with white tables and benches. It’s my favorite place to escape to—a five minute walk from my apartment—and I often come here after school or on the weekends for hours at a time to suck down an (unfortunately-weak) iced Americano (…I can’t complain too much, however, as this far outweighs the alternative of drinking powdered instant coffee from an unclean mug). The Coffee Garden (unlike many of the businesses near me) has air conditioning and wifi (although I can’t seem to access it…), and is run by the sweetest group of Thai women. Every time I come in, they smile and say “Americano for the American,” and I giggle and say khop khun ka over and over. I then retreat to the far back corner and plop onto a comfy bench covered in cushions and pillows where I madly type away at lesson plans and blog posts.
A coffee here costs me about 60 baht, or the equivalent of a little over $1.50 USD. This may seem cheap, but for the Thai baht, coffee is a rather exorbitant purchase. For the same price, I could buy two Thai meals (maybe an omelet or Pad Thai or Tom Yum Kung), or a ten pack of crispy, baked snap-peas, or five large bottles of water. Similarly, an “American” breakfast—a plate filled with an over-easy egg, a croissant and small pieces of hot dog (yes, hot dog)—costs about 70 baht. But I’m willing to splurge. Since freshman year of college, coffee shops have always been a retreat for me—a place to get my daily dose of caffeine and get some work done in a place that isn’t a stuffy library. Not to mention the fact that people-watching doesn’t get much better than that from the back corner of a coffee shop—my eyes constantly flitting from my computer screen to the chiming door to the people at the table next to me. My guilty pleasure is eavesdropping (oops) on coffee shop conversations, and more than once, I’ve had people approach me and begin an intriguing and worthwhile conversation.
Coffee shops are a place I don’t mind being alone—I can get lost in my thoughts and in my coffee—no matter if I’m at home (eavesdropping more than I should be) or in a foreign country where I don’t understand a word around me. That’s not to say I’m always drinking my coffee alone, however. Conversation (if I do say so myself) is always more enjoyable over a hot (preferably bottomless) mug of coffee. Furthermore, when traveling with a group of people, coffee shops are always a welcome relief from the heat or the rain or the cold, and it’s always nice to regroup (aka use the wifi to figure out where the hell you are) in a comfortable and refreshing environment.
If we were having coffee together now, I would tell you:
I am enjoying Thailand. I enjoy not being at home and living on my own. I enjoy being independent, and making enough money to pay for rent and for travel. I enjoy the sunshine and the heat (especially when I think of the alternative…), and I enjoy how (relatively) easy and cheap it is to travel from one part of the country to another. I enjoy the challenge of living abroad, of adjusting to a new place and a new culture and a new job. I enjoy not feeling bored and stagnant and unfulfilled. I enjoy the Thai people and their smiles and their ability to embrace strangers so easily. I enjoy being able to walk everywhere, and I enjoy learning more about myself and the world around me during every waking moment.
If we were having coffee together now, I would tell you:
The hardest part of living in Thailand is being alone. Is not being able to speak the Thai language. Is having people speak to you in Thai and not knowing how to respond. Is going home to an empty apartment with nothing but a cell phone to offer me a sense of solace. Is having my closest friends live two hours away by public transportation. Is feeling guilty that I feel as if I need to escape to Bangkok to have a good weekend. Is being stared at everywhere I go, because I am still (and always will be) the farang: the foreigner, the outsider—deemed immediately as such due to my skin color. Is being the only farang in my town to frequent the coffee shop and the 7-11. Is never knowing exactly what is happening or what my role is at any given moment.
If we were having coffee together now, I would tell you:
I’m not sure teaching is for me. I would tell you teaching is fun and rewarding, but it doesn’t necessarily “click.” Maybe it’s the age of the kids I teach (7th grade to 10th grade); maybe it’s the school itself; maybe it’s just not for me. Do I hate it? No. Do I think I want to be a teacher forever? No. I would tell you I have stained all of my clothes with whiteboard marker, and I have managed to write on the board in permanent marker (sue me). I had to Google how to turn on the Xerox machine and how to work the paper chopper (still don’t know the technical name for it); I struggle with using the projector in every class. I would tell you teaching has gotten so much easier since the first time I stepped foot into the classroom as “Teacher Erin,” but it is still exhausting, and I still question my teaching abilities every single day. I would tell you I have never questioned myself and my abilities this thoroughly before. Ever. And that—in and of itself—is proof as to why I should be here. Being here— living and teaching in such a foreign place—has made me question everything. My abilities, my values, my beliefs, my ideals… and it makes me question everyone around me. Such is life… questioning and wondering and asking and deconstructing and growing… hopefully in the best way possible. Travel and immersing yourself in such an unfamiliar community and culture makes you do exactly that—perhaps in the most accelerated way possible—and that may just be why I love it so very freakin’ much.
If we were having coffee together now, I would tell you:
About my friends who live in Bangkok—girls I had known previously from my TESOL course in Chiang Mai and people I had never met before two weekends ago. I would tell you how much I enjoy creating relationships while traveling, with people who have such similar (and familiar) mindsets as I do—with people who are laidback and fun and adventurous. With people who are open and extroverted and willing to embrace just about anyone. I would tell you about my travels to Bangkok to visit said friends—travels by foot and by public bus and by SkyTrain. One way: two hours, three modes of transport, and 60 baht. I would tell you how exhausting it is to get there—mentally and physically—as I always have to be on alert and remain vigilant. But I would also tell you just how worth it it is to escape the confines of my little town (and my brain) to get into some trouble in one of the craziest cities in the world. Bangkok is where East meets West, where selling fried scorpions on the street is hardly questioned, and where foreigners seem to be almost as prevalent as nationals. I would tell you about my visit to Khao San Road (stories I will actually save for an in-person reunion), and my visit to Nana Plaza (helllloooo live music). I would tell you about lounging by the rooftop pool for hours, and I would tell you about my friends’ apartment—how they live on the twentieth floor overlooking the city, and how they have a toilet that actually flushes and a shower with *real-life* hot water.
If we were having coffee together now, I would tell you:
About my trip to Koh Samet for the long weekend of the King’s birthday. I would tell you how I left from Bangkok and took a three hour van ride to the seaport, where we took a speedboat to the island. I would tell you how a National Park officer immediately pounced on the seven of us and charged us a 200 baht entry fee because we looked a little lost and confused and we all had pale skin. I would tell you how beautiful the island is, how clear the ocean is, and how white and smooth the sand is. I would tell you you must visit Ploy’s and Naga’s if you ever make it there. I would tell you how I didn’t go to bed before 4am for three nights in a row. I would tell you just how much I love being beside (and floating in) the ocean. I would tell you about trying green curry chicken for the first time (and loving it), and I would probably recommend Koh Kaew Resort if you wanted cheap and accessible accommodation. I would tell you living on an island year-round just might be my calling (although bouncing from Ireland to Nantucket to Koh Samet would make anyone say that).
If we were having coffee together now, I would tell you:
I haven’t taught in a week. I would tell you about the seemingly-huge number of Thai holidays that are celebrated in December, and how all of my students went away for Chinese camp and Scout camp this week. I would tell you about collating and stapling together 300 midterm exams (yuck), and I would tell you how ready I am to get back to school come Monday. I would tell you I am excited to see my students (how excited they are to see me is a whole ‘nother story), and I would tell you I’m not excited to get back to waking up at 6:30am. I would tell you how nice it’s been to have the last four days to regroup, to recover from my first Thai cold and to just breathe, but I also wouldn’t be afraid to tell you that breathing can sometimes be lonely. I would tell you about the horror of tracking down a package my mom sent over three weeks ago. I would tell you about finally unpacking and trying to catch up on laundry (all of which needs to be hand-washed in my miniscule bathroom sink). I would tell you about seeing The Hunger Games in the theater (in English with Thai subtitles nonetheless) and how much I struggled to buy a ticket because I am flat-out technologically disabled (and the fact that the instructions were in Thai certainly didn’t help things). I would tell you about grocery shopping and shoving all of my groceries into a ginormous backpack and struggling to leap fences to get home. I would tell you how moving abroad has made me fall in love with writing all over again. I would tell you that no matter how long I decide to stay in Thailand, or no matter how long I decide to keep teaching, Thailand and Bangkaeo will always have a piece of my heart.
If we were having coffee together now, I would apologize for rambling on and on and on… I would tell you just how much I miss you, and just how much I wish you had been there to experience some of these things with me. For now, however, our virtual coffee dates will just have to do.
If we were having coffee together now, I would ask: what do you have to share with me?
xx