previously published in the Terre Haute Tribune Star, 14 August 2011
I spent most of July in Thailand as part of a unique study abroad program. Several ISU faculty and students joined faculty and students from two Chinese universities on a study abroad program focused on sustainable development, experiential learning, and community engagement. Our program moved across Thailand using four different universities as classrooms.
The administrators, faculty and staff from Suan Sunandha Rajabaht University, Chiang Mai Rajabaht University, Pibulsongkram Rajabaht University, and Rajabaht Maha Sarakam University were gracious and most helpful in making our program a success.
Do you experience time as an external force pushing you and others along like a river or the wind? Do you anticipate events, plan, and daydream about doing other things? Do you “chase the clock?” Or do you live in the moment, ignore the clock and focus on the experience? Do you eat when it is time or when you are hungry?
Psychologists tell us that different individuals experience time in different ways, but after nearly three weeks in Thailand, there is a significant cultural effect on how individuals experience time. Psychologists also tell us that daydreaming, reminiscing, and planning instead of “living in the moment” makes us unhappy. Perhaps this explains the seeming happiness and general contentment of the Thai people I met.
For instance, how often do you do one thing while daydreaming of doing another? Countless times this summer as I sat working, I thought, “this is a beautiful day, why am I not outside doing x, y, or z?” How many anticipate the weekend as we trudge through the week?
I asked many of our Thai hosts, as they took us to see Royal agricultural projects or grand historical and cultural sites, “if you weren’t doing this today with us, what would you be doing?” It is not that the words were not understood, but the concept seemed foreign. Each person I asked this answered similarly: “I am here doing this with you.” I don’t think this was Thai niceness, rather, I don’t think Thais comparatively evaluate the passing of time the way we do. “Today I am going with these Americans and Chinese to the Golden Teak Palace.” Whereas, an American might think, “I wonder how Jimmie Johnson is doing in the big race today, which I can’t watch because I am taking these visitors to the local museum.”
Thais are aware that they treat and experience time differently than we time-obsessed Americans. “Thai time” was on plain display when an interpreter asked the convener of the conference we were attending what time things would begin the next morning. The answer was typically Thai: “Definitely 8:30, maybe 9.” The conference began the next day at 8:45. The clock didn’t determine when things began, the conference began when the convener was ready and the speaker was in place, not a moment before or after that. The clock was mostly irrelevant. Schedules were only approximate and changes were not uncommon.
The needs of the moment dictate action. While crossing the country from west to east, the air conditioner in our van broke down. It was hot, and with a van full of people, it was very uncomfortable. Our driver, along with two other vans, all headed into a town to get our AC repaired.
If this were in the U.S., the others would have gone ahead, but we all stuck together. After a refrigerant recharge, we headed off. Thirty minutes later the AC failed again, indicating a need for a more extensive repair. Despite the unlikelihood of getting the AC repaired that day, the driver kept trying. We suggested just continuing on with the windows down, but the need of the moment was to fix the van. The driver kept seeking a repair until both our driver and host sensed the Americans were getting upset, changing the needs of the moment; now the guests were getting restless.
It is important to note, it was the Americans who were getting restless, not the Chinese.
For a few hours today I lived in the moment. I went for an early morning paddle on the Wabash. I didn’t think about the work I “should” be doing or the workplace crisis of the moment. Just what was in front of me, a heron or an eagle, the smooth glide of my kayak as it cut through the murky Wabash waters, and I deliberately forgot my watch.
Time was marked by putting the kayak in and taking it out of the water
Showing posts with label Thailand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thailand. Show all posts
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Worldwide, ‘white culture’ seems to have strong hold
Previously published in the Terre Haute Tribune Star (April 4, 2010)
TERRE HAUTE — I grew up in a tourist town. Like all tourist towns, the locals had a love-hate relationship with the tourists. My parents didn’t care for the tourists (even though they had once been tourists themselves, Midwesterners, they honeymooned on a Florida beach and ended up staying forever). I, however, found tourists to be fascinating. As a child, I recall meeting people with strange accents in our library. As I grew older and was able to get to the beach resorts, I’d try to meet visitors from faraway places.
When I am the tourist, I care less about that which draws tourists (theme park, beautiful beaches, mountain vistas, ancient temples) than the possibility of meeting interesting people. Unlike most people at a theme park who hate standing in long lines, I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to talk to others who I otherwise would never have a chance to meet. Of course, this is hard because most people are not like me, they are more interested in the upcoming four minutes of thrill ride, than in meeting new people.
After my weeklong academic conference in Bangkok in February, I extended my trip with three days of touring Ankgor Wat, the ancient temple complex outside Siem Reap, Cambodia. This is the largest temple complex in the world (so the local tourism ministry tells us). In three days of touring ancient temples, I took about 1,000 pictures of fascinating testaments to humanity’s ability to construct monuments to its deities and earthbound rulers.
While I appreciate the experience of the ruins, the head-scratching moments (“and they didn’t have cranes”) pales in comparison to the chance to meet interesting people. And in Siem Reap, most of the people didn’t speak English (at least not as their first language) and that means I’m in a target-rich environment to meet people with different experiences and different perspectives than me.
Anyone who has traveled with me knows that I quiz taxi drivers, waiters, first mates on snorkel boats, and just about anyone who I can, about their “story.” How did “you” come to be here now? We hired a guide in Siem Reap and I asked him how he learned English, how he came to be a tour guide, what his future plans were. He graciously answered my questions. I met many people at the conference, several with whom I am having e-mail conversations. They know about my gentle prodding curiosity into their lives. It is an occupational hazard, sociologists are unapologetic about their burning curiosity into the “ways” of people.
I met a “farang” (Western foreigner) couple at one of the temples we were “exploring.” He stood out. Over 6 feet tall, with gleaming white hair, he was speaking Khmer to the children selling postcards and drinks to we hot and flagging temple tourists. He made the children laugh and he was having a good time doing it. His wife, too, spoke a little Khmer. He spoke to our guide and switched to French. I said something and he looked at me, switched to English and said “American?”
His English was tinged with a German accent. I asked him how he came to know Khmer. He told me he knew many languages, that he was conversant in 11 different languages. I guessed right, he was in the foreign service. He told me that he had a facility with language, that he found it easy to pick up new languages. He was retired now, living in France. Both he and his wife were very pleasant. As we talked, I thought, perhaps we could meet them later in Siem Reap for a drink.
And then “it” happened. This remarkably gifted person, who, despite his modesty at learning language, clearly put the effort out to learn 11 different languages and understood the importance of language and of making the effort to respect and engage people of other cultures by learning their language and culture, looked right at our guide, and said to us: “You know, white people and white culture will soon be gone. Your people, the Asians are taking over the world. There will be no more white skin, there will be no more white culture.”
I’m surprised he didn’t Sieg Heil at the end of that. He said this with a most genuine and warm smile on his face. I think he then repeated it in Khmer, just in case the children and our guide didn’t understand.
Born 10 to 15 years earlier, he might have been a Hitler Youth Camp Counselor, but given his aristocratic bearing more likely a high ranking SS officer.
I don’t know if he registered our shock. I wondered something a bit different about him. I told him that I was of German heritage and told him my last name. I know what it means in German and his reaction was what I expected. He mumbled something to the effect that “language changes over time,” broke off our conversation and walked off, with a gracious goodbye.
Three minutes before I thought here is a terrific example of the future in a globalized society. People will have to become culturally competent across many language and cultural boundaries. I was even thinking, could I learn Thai beyond the ability to order food in a restaurant or tell a taxi driver where to take me? Could I learn enough to ask one of my new Thai colleagues their story and understand it in Thai?
This German world citizen is wrong. Neither “white culture” or white people are going to disappear. “It” and “we” might, however, share some shelf space. The economic and military superiority of “white culture” is a recent historical event. The impact of freer trade is evident in the countries we visited. Indeed, the hunger for “white culture” as Herr Rassistische (translate in Google Translator if you wish) would call it, is evident everywhere we went in Thailand and Cambodia. Right down to the desire for Frau Rassistische’s alabaster white skin.
I suspect that the Amer-Asian children and grandchildren left behind by American soldiers fighting in Vietnam have now found new status as the preferred image for Thai and other Asian societies. The cosmetics industry is clearly geared that way. Last week the Thai government appointed someone to examine the claims made by various cosmetics products to lighten skin as fraud and into possible negative health effects of these treatments. Entertainment is heavily influenced by American and European trends.
I went to a Thai nightclub called the German Brewery. It was a Haufbrauhaus Thai style. This wasn’t a place for Germans weary of Tom Yum soup. This was a nightclub catering to Thai tourists, best as I could tell. While the music was not German, the entertainment was definitely more American with Thais adding their lemongrass and chiles. We even sang and danced to “YMCA.”
“White culture” disappearing? To me it looks like, through the airwaves, global travel and the Internet, that far from disappearing, “white culture” (and even the crude notion of white skin) is far from disappearing, it is proliferating. And along with it is that concept of white superiority. Too bad we can’t get beyond such crude rankings.
TERRE HAUTE — I grew up in a tourist town. Like all tourist towns, the locals had a love-hate relationship with the tourists. My parents didn’t care for the tourists (even though they had once been tourists themselves, Midwesterners, they honeymooned on a Florida beach and ended up staying forever). I, however, found tourists to be fascinating. As a child, I recall meeting people with strange accents in our library. As I grew older and was able to get to the beach resorts, I’d try to meet visitors from faraway places.
When I am the tourist, I care less about that which draws tourists (theme park, beautiful beaches, mountain vistas, ancient temples) than the possibility of meeting interesting people. Unlike most people at a theme park who hate standing in long lines, I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to talk to others who I otherwise would never have a chance to meet. Of course, this is hard because most people are not like me, they are more interested in the upcoming four minutes of thrill ride, than in meeting new people.
After my weeklong academic conference in Bangkok in February, I extended my trip with three days of touring Ankgor Wat, the ancient temple complex outside Siem Reap, Cambodia. This is the largest temple complex in the world (so the local tourism ministry tells us). In three days of touring ancient temples, I took about 1,000 pictures of fascinating testaments to humanity’s ability to construct monuments to its deities and earthbound rulers.
While I appreciate the experience of the ruins, the head-scratching moments (“and they didn’t have cranes”) pales in comparison to the chance to meet interesting people. And in Siem Reap, most of the people didn’t speak English (at least not as their first language) and that means I’m in a target-rich environment to meet people with different experiences and different perspectives than me.
Anyone who has traveled with me knows that I quiz taxi drivers, waiters, first mates on snorkel boats, and just about anyone who I can, about their “story.” How did “you” come to be here now? We hired a guide in Siem Reap and I asked him how he learned English, how he came to be a tour guide, what his future plans were. He graciously answered my questions. I met many people at the conference, several with whom I am having e-mail conversations. They know about my gentle prodding curiosity into their lives. It is an occupational hazard, sociologists are unapologetic about their burning curiosity into the “ways” of people.
I met a “farang” (Western foreigner) couple at one of the temples we were “exploring.” He stood out. Over 6 feet tall, with gleaming white hair, he was speaking Khmer to the children selling postcards and drinks to we hot and flagging temple tourists. He made the children laugh and he was having a good time doing it. His wife, too, spoke a little Khmer. He spoke to our guide and switched to French. I said something and he looked at me, switched to English and said “American?”
His English was tinged with a German accent. I asked him how he came to know Khmer. He told me he knew many languages, that he was conversant in 11 different languages. I guessed right, he was in the foreign service. He told me that he had a facility with language, that he found it easy to pick up new languages. He was retired now, living in France. Both he and his wife were very pleasant. As we talked, I thought, perhaps we could meet them later in Siem Reap for a drink.
And then “it” happened. This remarkably gifted person, who, despite his modesty at learning language, clearly put the effort out to learn 11 different languages and understood the importance of language and of making the effort to respect and engage people of other cultures by learning their language and culture, looked right at our guide, and said to us: “You know, white people and white culture will soon be gone. Your people, the Asians are taking over the world. There will be no more white skin, there will be no more white culture.”
I’m surprised he didn’t Sieg Heil at the end of that. He said this with a most genuine and warm smile on his face. I think he then repeated it in Khmer, just in case the children and our guide didn’t understand.
Born 10 to 15 years earlier, he might have been a Hitler Youth Camp Counselor, but given his aristocratic bearing more likely a high ranking SS officer.
I don’t know if he registered our shock. I wondered something a bit different about him. I told him that I was of German heritage and told him my last name. I know what it means in German and his reaction was what I expected. He mumbled something to the effect that “language changes over time,” broke off our conversation and walked off, with a gracious goodbye.
Three minutes before I thought here is a terrific example of the future in a globalized society. People will have to become culturally competent across many language and cultural boundaries. I was even thinking, could I learn Thai beyond the ability to order food in a restaurant or tell a taxi driver where to take me? Could I learn enough to ask one of my new Thai colleagues their story and understand it in Thai?
This German world citizen is wrong. Neither “white culture” or white people are going to disappear. “It” and “we” might, however, share some shelf space. The economic and military superiority of “white culture” is a recent historical event. The impact of freer trade is evident in the countries we visited. Indeed, the hunger for “white culture” as Herr Rassistische (translate in Google Translator if you wish) would call it, is evident everywhere we went in Thailand and Cambodia. Right down to the desire for Frau Rassistische’s alabaster white skin.
I suspect that the Amer-Asian children and grandchildren left behind by American soldiers fighting in Vietnam have now found new status as the preferred image for Thai and other Asian societies. The cosmetics industry is clearly geared that way. Last week the Thai government appointed someone to examine the claims made by various cosmetics products to lighten skin as fraud and into possible negative health effects of these treatments. Entertainment is heavily influenced by American and European trends.
I went to a Thai nightclub called the German Brewery. It was a Haufbrauhaus Thai style. This wasn’t a place for Germans weary of Tom Yum soup. This was a nightclub catering to Thai tourists, best as I could tell. While the music was not German, the entertainment was definitely more American with Thais adding their lemongrass and chiles. We even sang and danced to “YMCA.”
“White culture” disappearing? To me it looks like, through the airwaves, global travel and the Internet, that far from disappearing, “white culture” (and even the crude notion of white skin) is far from disappearing, it is proliferating. And along with it is that concept of white superiority. Too bad we can’t get beyond such crude rankings.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Extreme hospitality in ‘Land of Smiles’
Previously published in the Terre Haute Tribune Star, 3/21/2010
“Sa wad dee kha!” This is the almost universal greeting one hears in Thailand. It is a very pleasant greeting and the Thai language does not seem to have as many hard sounds in it, like German and Japanese. The result is a pleasing and welcoming sound when added to a “wai,” hands held in prayer-like form with fingertips someplace between one’s nose and forehead with a slight bow, is an obvious welcome, even if one doesn’t understand the language. I returned recently from eight days in Thailand (Bangkok) and Cambodia (Siem Reap).
Thailand, sometimes referred to as the “Land of Smiles”, is appropriately named. The culture is one of extreme hospitality. It is no wonder that so many “farang,” (western foreigners) become enchanted by Thailand. Me, known for being serious, found myself smiling along with so many happy people. It was infectious.
Bangkok is a seemingly modern city with street markets that seem unchanged from hundreds of years ago except that cell phones are for sale within sight of hogs’ heads; one could get their hair dyed green and get a custom tailored silk suit two stalls down next to a table of lemongrass.
Other than rice, I don’t think there is any bland food in Thailand. Chilis, lime, and tamarind leaves seem to be the most common flavors. Lots of fresh fruit. I’ve never known people who like to eat like the Thais do. Several times our Thai hosts made light of how Thais organize everything around eating. I believe it. Skipping meals in Thailand might be evidence of mental illness.
Even to someone like me who was raised in the south and has lived much of my life in the “Bible Belt,” Thais appear to be a religiously observant people. The dominant religion is Buddhism, and often the most striking building in sight is the “wat,” or Buddhist temple. The “wat” is gleaming white, red, and gold, often the biggest and tallest building in its area. The smell of burning sandalwood is everywhere, in part, because sandalwood sticks are burning at the foot of Buddha or other Hindu deities. The seamless blending of Hinduism and Buddhism in Thailand is obvious everywhere. Every building had an offering for Buddha and a “spirit house.” The spirit house was always outside, often in the front of the building, I believe there is a specified placement for it, and the spirits are to be taken care of, lest they invade the building.
The result of the many religious rituals that Thais appear to practice on a regular, if not daily basis, are people who seem very spiritual. I was struck by how “happiness” figures into so much of the culture of Thailand. I wonder what they think of our Declaration of Independence, with its “pursuit of happiness?” I suspect they would not understand “pursuing happiness.” “Attaining happiness” would be more Thai, I think.
The Thai scholars and the ISU faculty I was part of will be working together on several research projects on environmentally and culturally sustainable local economic development. A short visit to another country, especially as one as different for an American as Thailand, is a bare scratch of the surface. Ongoing collaboration with the Thai scholars and póok mit (building friendship) may lead to some level of what sociologists call “verstehen” which doesn’t translate easily into English, but comes closest to “sympathetic understanding.”
These observations are obvious to anyone who visits Thailand and is paying attention. I hope “mú-dtì” (understanding) comes through developing friendships with the Thai scholars. I am especially interested in trying to understand what seems to be an outward contentment but which surely masks the sadness that does accompany life. Americans live in the future. We are busy, always moving, never satisfied with the present. We put so much pressure on our children at such young ages to achieve in the future that we are robbing them of the beauty and play of childhood. The Thai scholars are hard workers and seem to work all the time, but also seem to make the everyday and mundane, like eating, joyful events to look forward to, not dash through.
My mother used to tell me when I was very young “to stop and smell the roses.” Thais seem to follow the advice. Over the next year, in addition to collaborating on some interesting research projects, I hope to learn how this industrializing people have managed to “stay in the moment.”
“Sa wad dee kha!” This is the almost universal greeting one hears in Thailand. It is a very pleasant greeting and the Thai language does not seem to have as many hard sounds in it, like German and Japanese. The result is a pleasing and welcoming sound when added to a “wai,” hands held in prayer-like form with fingertips someplace between one’s nose and forehead with a slight bow, is an obvious welcome, even if one doesn’t understand the language. I returned recently from eight days in Thailand (Bangkok) and Cambodia (Siem Reap).
Thailand, sometimes referred to as the “Land of Smiles”, is appropriately named. The culture is one of extreme hospitality. It is no wonder that so many “farang,” (western foreigners) become enchanted by Thailand. Me, known for being serious, found myself smiling along with so many happy people. It was infectious.
Bangkok is a seemingly modern city with street markets that seem unchanged from hundreds of years ago except that cell phones are for sale within sight of hogs’ heads; one could get their hair dyed green and get a custom tailored silk suit two stalls down next to a table of lemongrass.
Other than rice, I don’t think there is any bland food in Thailand. Chilis, lime, and tamarind leaves seem to be the most common flavors. Lots of fresh fruit. I’ve never known people who like to eat like the Thais do. Several times our Thai hosts made light of how Thais organize everything around eating. I believe it. Skipping meals in Thailand might be evidence of mental illness.
Even to someone like me who was raised in the south and has lived much of my life in the “Bible Belt,” Thais appear to be a religiously observant people. The dominant religion is Buddhism, and often the most striking building in sight is the “wat,” or Buddhist temple. The “wat” is gleaming white, red, and gold, often the biggest and tallest building in its area. The smell of burning sandalwood is everywhere, in part, because sandalwood sticks are burning at the foot of Buddha or other Hindu deities. The seamless blending of Hinduism and Buddhism in Thailand is obvious everywhere. Every building had an offering for Buddha and a “spirit house.” The spirit house was always outside, often in the front of the building, I believe there is a specified placement for it, and the spirits are to be taken care of, lest they invade the building.
The result of the many religious rituals that Thais appear to practice on a regular, if not daily basis, are people who seem very spiritual. I was struck by how “happiness” figures into so much of the culture of Thailand. I wonder what they think of our Declaration of Independence, with its “pursuit of happiness?” I suspect they would not understand “pursuing happiness.” “Attaining happiness” would be more Thai, I think.
The Thai scholars and the ISU faculty I was part of will be working together on several research projects on environmentally and culturally sustainable local economic development. A short visit to another country, especially as one as different for an American as Thailand, is a bare scratch of the surface. Ongoing collaboration with the Thai scholars and póok mit (building friendship) may lead to some level of what sociologists call “verstehen” which doesn’t translate easily into English, but comes closest to “sympathetic understanding.”
These observations are obvious to anyone who visits Thailand and is paying attention. I hope “mú-dtì” (understanding) comes through developing friendships with the Thai scholars. I am especially interested in trying to understand what seems to be an outward contentment but which surely masks the sadness that does accompany life. Americans live in the future. We are busy, always moving, never satisfied with the present. We put so much pressure on our children at such young ages to achieve in the future that we are robbing them of the beauty and play of childhood. The Thai scholars are hard workers and seem to work all the time, but also seem to make the everyday and mundane, like eating, joyful events to look forward to, not dash through.
My mother used to tell me when I was very young “to stop and smell the roses.” Thais seem to follow the advice. Over the next year, in addition to collaborating on some interesting research projects, I hope to learn how this industrializing people have managed to “stay in the moment.”
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