Triple Whammy-ed!

One week ago

I’m in Bangkok and it feels utterly surreal. Since arriving here on Saturday morning mum and I have been galloping around non-stop, enjoying some quality mother-daughter time unlike we’ve had in years. Yet my head is still reeling. I keep remembering my last week in Mae Sot. How it all climaxed so amazingly in my last night, when an entourage of five escorted me from my hotel doorstep to the foot of the luxury double decker bus fated to whisk me away from a place I’d grown to feel so at home in. As I trudged towards the glowing headlights of my bus, squatting smug on the roadside like some unfriendly messenger from a nastier place, I positively willed it to leave without me. I dawdled nervously on the road side, hoping some hair brained traveller would lay some noble cause at my feet, beg for my seat on the bus, and release me from the awful burden of my goodbyes which felt so feeble in the light of such generous company. The weight of all I’d learned sat heavy on my shoulders, there was so much I felt I hadn’t been able to achieve, so much that I’d be far better positioned to achieve if I’d managed a way to stay in Mae Sot.

So I’ve been rather slack updating my blog, the catalyst for that being the fact that I managed to get quite sick in my third week. A mild bout of food poisoning soon turned into a rather nasty flu, and wanting to get well as soon as possible I took the Friday off school, hoping to rest up over the weekend. By the time Monday rolled around I was bored out of my brain, bed ridden and voiceless! My flu had morphed its way into a ridiculously bad chest infection and for two days straight I couldn’t raise my voice above a very un-sexy man-like husky whisper which made the delightful fellows working at reception giggle every time I passed them and attempted to murmur a greeting. My meals were confined to the cafe next door where an equally humoured Johny sign languaged his way around the menu with me, and excused me from polite conversations with fellow diners oblivious to the agony I was in.

Infuriatingly I never made it to Mae La camp. On the Wednesday I was scheduled to go I was dosed up on anti-biotics (I’m lucky medical students and I appear have a moth-to-the-flame connection-who the moth and who the flame I’m not quite sure- and a med friend staying in DK happily came to my aid with his santa sack of medicines) and couldn’t speak at all. I didn’t want to wander the refugee camp like some tourist at the zoo- all wide-eyed and snappy happy- and thought it best to save that adventure for another time when I’d be in ship shape to converse with the people I’d undoubtedly meet. There are enough foreigners rummaging around this place looking for their own salvation in others peoples suffering. The billion dollar aid industry is just that: an industry. As such there are plenty of NGOs run as businesses, looking to somehow profit on the dire situation here.

[Potential rant curbed by sore shoulders, a heavy heart and a beckoning mother!]

Today

I’m struggling to continue writing. I’m in Singapore now and Mae Sot really is a whole world away. I’ve been avoiding thinking about my experience too deeply, and am not quite ready to digest the extent to which that place has left its mark on me. I hate to sound cynical- as I’m not a cynic- but even my friend Shane (the go-to man of Mae Sot who over regular breakfasts watched me transform from wide-eyed gleeful innocent, to narrow-eyed, tight-lipped sceptic) saw it necessary to remind me that it’s all a matter of perspective, and you simply can’t have the good without the bad.

In trying to step back a little and give myself some room to make sense of the time I had, I’ve managed to step back completely. I’ve spent the past week buried in novels, movies, good eating and friends, relishing the simply luxuries of life. I’ve indulged in rich chocolate cakes, drunk too much beer, and stayed out always a little later than necessary. And every time I’ve tried to write something more about my experience I’ve encountered one heck of a mental road block. The website is hanging like an overripe promise in the wings, all of its progress pending on me to source my second wind and type like a woman possessed. But I’ve always been a believer in pacing oneself. I’m eager to get it up and running, but don’t want to do a botchy half job. And if I’m honest, that’s all I’m going to be able to piece together in a rush here at mum’s place in Singapore over the Chinese New Year break. I’m relishing the time for friends and family, so fleeting as the uni semester draws closer. In my experience, deadlines always function better in hordes.

So I’ll work on getting back to basics. And as I start both a photo album and PowerPoint presentation of sorts, I’m fondly recalling what I went to Mae Sot to discover. The people. I’ve returned with a treasure trove of connections, of smiles and secrets shared, of belly-aching laughter and gut-wrenching heart ache. I’ve already received emails from some of the friends I’ve made, and one from one of the teachers I ‘taught’ conversation English to in the afternoons which really struck a chord with me. And I realise I still haven’t commented on those afternoons! So crammed full of absurd trivia and politics, of folk stories and newspaper articles, my afternoon classes were hardly strenuous and always such a pleasure. I definitely learned far, far more from the teachers who so ridiculously called me ‘Teacher’!

It’s 1am and synchronised bumps in the night are sending me rapidly retreating to bed- watch this space!