Across the river, the sun was setting behind another Buddhist temple. The gentle mist that covered the sky that October afternoon drew a mixture of geometric shadows on the sunlight giving the landscape an air of surrealist painting. The reddish fireball, surrounded by lines in various shades of orange, was the perfect image of the eastern sun that had fed my imagination for many years.
72 – THE JOY OF THE UNEXPECTED AND A DELIGHTFUL ROUTINE
Every time the kindergarten’s door was opened, the Thai children celebrated our arrival with loud noise, sending a contagious energy throughout the place. It was the happiest 30 minutes of my day. Those curious, narrowed-eyes paid attention to all the drawings I scribbled on the whiteboard.
If the letter of the day was G, I would unleash my creativity with giraffes, guitars, and little girls, writing next to each picture the corresponding name with the well-placed initial letter. Kate and Flavia would leave some songs prepared and music time was the most anticipated moment for the little ones, who would raise euphoric waving their arms around the teachers. Kaplan, a Turkish volunteer, would also be in some classes with us.
On the third day, the director came to our accomodation and explained with some difficulty that the next day would hold something different. He introduced himself as John, but we were all sure that his Thai name was completely different. However, the Facebook letters were impossible to decipher.
- Three girls. Tomorrow. 12pm Below. Muslim school. – John gestured, repeating the same words over and over again.
- Tomorrow the three of us are going to the Muslim school and we should be ready downstairs at 12 noon, right? – Flavia and I were formulating the sentence, but John looked at us with a huge question mark on his face and repeated everything again.
- Three girls. Tomorrow. 12pm Below. Muslim school.
The next day, after singing with the little ones in kindergarten, the three of us were sitting in the cafeteria’s mini-chairs waiting for something different. The postman was talking quietly to the school janitor, sitting at one of the tables while sipping a glass of water and fanning himself with his cap. Neither of them spoke English, but they seemed to be talking about us, since they looked at us analytically while smiling at each other.
After 30 minutes of waiting, three motorcyclists parked in front of the school and, with mimes, the janitor told us to go with those strangers. The three men spoke the same English as the postman and the janitor: zero. Laughing at the unexpected, we look at each other and face the challenge.
- I don’t think it’s optional,- I shouted, climbing on the backseat.
- There`s no helmet. God protects us, – Flavia begged.
- Here we go! – Kate shouted in a funny cartoon voice.
It was one of the most fun experiences of my life: face the chaotic traffic of Bangkok without a helmet on the back of a complete stranger who spoke no English, having no idea where he was taking me. The three of us shouted the whole way and made our riders laugh with our childish excitement.
When the motorbikes entered the courtyard before a mosque, we finally discovered exactly what the Muslim school was.
The teachers who received us also did not speak English. They just handed in a paper to each of us with the school days and times and took us to our classes.
The group of about ten 8-year-olds immediately got up, greeting me in English:
- Good afternoon teacher!
They all wore pink T-shirts, and the girls, in a bigger number, wore skirts below their knees and their heads were wrapped in a white garment that completely covered their hair and neck.
I started by introducing my name and my country. Pronouncing “Brazil” started a real fuss. Noisy and wild as teenagers are, they screamed over who knew more about my homeland.
- Neymar
- Football
- The Amazon
In less than a minute, I had completely lost control over the class. They threw rubbers at each other and they didn’t seem to mind my requests for silence. Annoyed, I grabbed my purse and the bottle of water the monitor handed me as soon as I walked in and threatened to leave.
- I’ll ask them to look for another teacher for you. – The buzz decreased and it broke my heart to hear their apologies in the middle of the class.
- Please, teacher, stay.
- We’re truly sorry. Stay Please.
I went back to the center of the room and said slowly, with the easiest English I could speak, that I would like everyone’s support so we could learn together. I created a signal so they would be silent and immediately return to their seats when things got too euphoric, but my clenched fist was completely ignored at the first opportunity, even when I desperately climbed onto my chair to try to impose some respect.
Teaching that group was extremely exhausting, but also very funny. Those brats were rebellious like a pack of wild hyenas, but they knew how to win me, and I was so glad to have to walk four miles in the sweltering heat of Bangkok to teach them three or four new words each class.
At least the second class was more obedient. A room with eight students around 12 years old was interesting and had something very special. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but I saw a huge potential in those young kids. Questioning and curious, I was always asked to repeat a lesson and frequently asked grammatical questions that sometimes I myself could not answer. And that was fascinating.
- Okay, boys, sometimes, I get the impression we’re on the same level of English here, so let’s learn together, okay? Unceremoniously, I would pull out my cell phone and give them the information I have just discovered on Google myself.
I saw myself somehow in those students. Sometimes rebellious and wild, sometimes interested and attentive to life’s lessons and so often singing and enjoying myself as a small child in the most pleasurable situations.
After my first class given at the Muslim school, I already had a very well structured routine. Three mornings a week I would teach English literacy classes to the little ones and two afternoons I would teach English to my two teenage groups. The rest of the time, I could use to explore Bangkok’s temples and bars.
73 – TUK-TUK AND THE LONGEST DAY OF MY LIFE
That Wednesday afternoon, Flavia and I just followed the directions of Kate, who had a map that showed directions to the Golden Mount Temple on her cell phone. The heat in the early afternoon was even more intense and we stopped under a sunroom on a corner to check the route and hydrate the body.
- You girls look lost. Can I help you? – A Thai man wearing jeans, a shirt, and fancy shoes approached us unexpectedly.
- We’re going to the Golden Mount Temple. It’s the next street on the right, isn’t it? – Kate replied, showing the map.
- Yes, but the temple is closed. It opens only at 4 pm, – he said, showing his clock displaying 2:30. – If you have no other plans, I can tell you what to do.- Have you got a pen?
I found that very strange, but everything happened so quickly that we couldn’t even reason. The unknown Thai, who spoke English very well, wrote three directions on the paper.
- Take the governmental tuk-tuk, the one which has the Thai flag. It will charge you 40 baht and take you to all the three places. It’ll stay with you for 3 hours and drop you off at Golden Mount at the end of the tour. The stranger waved to the tuk-tuk and led us. – See? the Thailand’s flag, they are cheaper. Give the driver the paper. You will pay only 40 baths each for the entire ride. Have fun.
We got into the vehicle quite suspiciously but without resistance. If this was some kind of tourist scam or kidnapping, we would have been the easiest victims in history. If it was some kind of trap, at least we would have been happy victims.