Pattaya, Thailand
I am in Asia, again.
I feel like I’ve been retracing my own steps since returning here - going
through the same slow motions of adjustment, re-acclimation and inspiration.
Today is the end of my third week here, and I am only just beginning to live
with this sweaty, soupy heat. It’s the middle of the rainy season of summer,
which has meant frequent monsoon rains and tremendous humidity. The
downpours are extensive, thunderous, and when the sun finally comes out, it
boils the water from the ground into the air around you. Thick, intense,
muggy heat at all times. The air is warm sticky jello that I wade through
every day.
I just witnessed a motorbike accident during rush hour. I was coming out a
driveway, about to walk onto the shoulder of the road, when I heard noise:
screeching, violent clatter, and a piercing scraping sound as two motorbikes
slid into view from around the corner. The passengers tumbled over the
pavement, rolling along the asphalt as their bikes skidded ahead of them.
They stumbled to their feet a few moments later, staring at their bikes and
their bodies with wide-eyed apprehension and fear. Two schoolgirls and a
young musician limped to the side of the road, with road rash and blood
dripping down their arms and knees. I recognized the same nervous energy in
the air from my own motorbike accident months earlier. They were all in
shock.
This road, Sukhumvit, is the longest in Thailand, stretching all the way
from Bangkok to Pattaya. My first day here, I also shed blood on Sukhumvit,
trudging from my hotel to the orphanage at night, trying to avoid getting
hit by the continuous stream of traffic. Construction workers had left a
jagged hooked nail protruding from the pavement on the shoulder in such a
way that sandals were no protection. I arrived at the volunteer house that
night with a blood soaked sandal and a distinct appreciation for my tetanus
shot.
The children have only stepped on that foot twice. They are vivacious,
overwhelming, demanding, and wonderful.
I am in Pattaya, which has more prostitutes per square kilometer than any
other city in Thailand. I am here however, to visit its extensive
orphanage and the social institutions connected to it. My friend Nadia is a
volunteer here, teaching English and working long hours to help care for the
hundreds of children and adults that call this place home. There is a blind
school, a deaf school, a handicapped school, and a center for street kids,
on top of the normal orphanage. This place does oceans of good for the
community here.
I have spent my days as a tickle-beast, a baby-burper, an observer, going
from one project to the next as Nadia has shown me her everyday life. She is
on a six month stint as a volunteer here, which shows great tenacity and
resolve on her part. The other volunteers I’ve met are also remarkable, and
exude an honest kindness that I have rarely seen. They have all adjusted to
their lives as amazing people, and seem to have forgotten just how
impressive their work and conviction is.
I spent my second day at the center for street kids, which is a transitional
residence for children who live on the streets of Pattaya, which are not
child-friendly. These kids do all they can. Nadia warned me to keep my hair
away from the children’s, as they have problems with lice. The second we
arrived, however, it proved impossible as the children literally yanked me
out of the car and began climbing me like one big, bendy ladder. The kids
are emotionally raw, and respond very strongly to kindness and admonishment.
One ill-behaved little snot decided to get my attention by climbing into a
fly and filth ridden garbage container. I pulled her out and said “Mai! No!”
only to watch her scramble back in a moment later, trying to get my attention
again.
The blind school children proved to be a different challenge entirely. We
spent one day taking them to the beach. Most of the kids seem to have
psychological problems deeper than blindness, and it isn’t easy walk to lead
them to the beach just a kilometer away. They kick off their shoes, pull
away from you with surprising strength, and are dangerously intrigued by the
sounds of traffic.
It had poured down rain that morning, but the clouds had broken into
enormous thunderheads, splitting the sky open for a bright, hot afternoon.
It was a vivid day, full of color and brilliance. The children were
enthralled with the sand, water and sunlight on their bodies, but could not
see the colors and scenery I was so amazed by. I felt bad for a moment, but
soon realized that they were enjoying life in that moment more than anyone
on the beach. If real happiness is relative, then these kids found it in the
shallow water and the hot sun.
There is an old Burmese refugee here called Auntie, who is ninety, blind,
and nearly deaf. She speaks perfect English, and no Thai, which leaves only
the volunteers to talk with her between the long dark waking hours she
spends in prayer. Our conversations consist of shouting into her ear, and
receiving a cheeky, quick-witted reply. She is one of the most lucid, sharp,
and clever seniors I’ve ever met.
“Where you from?” she asks me.
“The US!” I shout into her ear.
“Oooh, A Yankee Doodle Dandy!” she shouts back.
My last afternoon she allowed me to draw her. I sketched away while Nadia
kept her busy with conversation. I drew her face - sharp lines on rough
brown paper, but I never finished it. She had a bingo date, and I had to
catch a bus. I need to come back before this trip is over, not for the
drawing, but for her.
It was sad and strange leaving after my time there. As I walked out of the
gates of the orphanage with my backpack on, saying goodbye to Nadia and the
other volunteers, the motorbike accident played out in front of us. Tense
and bloodied, the schoolgirls made calls on their cell phones as they winced
in pain, the musician picked the loose skin from his hands, and lamented
over his smashed guitar. We couldn’t say much to them as they went about
their business dealing with their own emergency. Nadia explained to them
“Get it cleaned!” I gave them the iodine and extra bandages I
had for my foot, and we walked away; A surreal exit from a very real place.
We went down the street, said our goodbyes, and I hopped on a taxi to the
bus station thinking “this needs to be written down.”
Finally it is. I’m back in Bangkok now experiencing the kind hospitality of
Jasmina’s family and preparing for the next leg of my journey. They have
taken it upon themselves to make sure I am completely prepared for wherever
I end up next. The monks have requested on rather short notice for me to be
in Cambodia the day after tomorrow. I already have commitments other places,
but I might extend my schedule and head eastward, towards temples and broken
dams. We will see.
Much Love,
Tobias
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