When I got to the airport after a week of snow with highs in the 20s, the 90 degree air was an assault, and the 95% humidity just about flattened me--from a couple of chilly days in uncomfortably cool aircon to standing in a hot shower.
It took my boss, who'd agreed to meet me at the airport, 45 minutes and three phone calls--"Hey, I'm here/okay I'm coming" "Now I'm coming, really" "okay, this time I'm in my truck and actially rolling, so I'll be right there"--during which time three different mototaxi drivers came prowling with, in this order, "TAXI TAXI! Haha, you same same Harry Potter! Where you go? Koh Samui? Eh? Samui?" (Full moon party island.)
I actually answered the first one by telling him, in Thai, that my friend is coming to take me to my home in the city, and he spent a good ten minutes sitting on his bike, waving people down to point at the talking Harry Potter.
I played nod and smile with the others.
We went straight to the big boss lady, where I collected my bonus and left with the promise of a return in April. Next stop was a bank with Saturday hours, and I cleared my account. Enroute to the main campus to clear out my desk, my boss said, "Damn, I'm starting to sober up. Mind stopping to eat somewhere?"
I had the fortune to see all of the Thai lead teachers/supervisors, each of whom said a close variation of, "Great to see you! You look so much better! You start on Monday, right?"
Oh the ironies.
"In April, the new term, once my lungs are healthy again," was the stock reply.
But how fortunate to catch all of them and leave on good terms with an expected return.
And then the packing.
Not that there was a lot. I shipped two boxes home and traveled with a great big rolling suitcase, a large carryon, and a laptop bag. It was a matter of unearthing stashes and discard piles of things that I'd accumulated to help keep going--various drug cocktails to treat various maladies and accidents, salves and balms gadgets and distractions. In a sense, it was heartening to go through the collection and know that I have such tools in my coping box, honed by knowledge of how to avoid ever getting into a similar situation. It was hard, though, when I eventually unearthed things (expectations) I'd taken over: the tent, ultra-compact mosquito net (just imagine tossing out a pad and bag and spending the night with nothing more than a mosquito net!), headlamps, rechargeable batteries, a handful of paring knives and a sharpener.
What killed me was finding the various notes, letters, and packaging sent from home. To see that much concern and worry directed straight at you is beyond humbling. In the context--here's half of a package of pain pills my boss gave me, saying, "we used to call these Gumby drops--take one with a beer and in half an hour your legs feel like Gumby," and here's a note explaining how to take the pancreatic supplements shipped from stateside. Here's an account/ledger book with alternating squares filled in dozens of schemes of colored pencil, and here's a book on written by a man who used a natural/raw sort of diet to get out of similar physical/intestinal circumstances.
What makes me especially sad is the likelihood that my time in Thailand planted only worry, heartache, and wear on those back home.
For me, even now, even though I've lost great swaths in a haze of un-remembered discomfort, I can say it was a positive experience because I learned so much in such a relatively benign culture.
Consider: I did some things that frustrated the hell out of some students and actually got to some parents and sent a flurry of calls to the English Programme big bosses. I didn't learn about them until long after when my foreigner boss mentioned some parent being up in arms, "like she was with you."
On the one hand, my big boss lady stood up, against the mothers and against the administration that didn't think I could hack teaching in the Regular Programme, and the result was an alternate assignment with the same pay, same hours, same contract, same security. There are a lot of places in the world where similar complaints from junior or doubts from on high would be, at the very least, a ticket out of the country tomorrow morning at the latest, if not a seizure of assets and incarceration/house arrest.
It's an easy thing to say, "teach what you're expected to teach in the customary manner," just like it's easy to say, "Enjoy good health."
It's something else to experience, say, drilling the students to memorize the answers to the multiple choice final exam for three weeks, or to suddenly not be able to walk without extreme discomfort.
I've learned these things, and so much about how to survive in trying circumstances, and I've made a couple of great discoveries: I love teaching 4th grade, and I love the potential of teaching abroad.
Ultimately, I'd say my experience in Thailand was fortifying and will help me lead a fuller, richer life down the road.
My worry is that the same experience brought nothing but winnowing, graying worry to those back home.
Regardless, it happened, it's done, I don't ever have to go back, and I'm better equipped to go forward.
Here's another one: the pulmonary infection wasn't TB or some exciting fungus, but rather an extremely uninteresting and normal respiratory bacteria that was able to get through the depressed immune system and take hold.
Love it.
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