elephants: everywhere but in the room

*Disclaimer: this post was not written as a cry for help or need for compliments, so please don’t take me for an insecure little child!

Oh Thailand. These past two months have treated me so well. The atmosphere? Thrilling. The food? Mouth-watering. The people? Kind, generous, caring, loving, and...what was that last characteristic that named them so well? Oh yes...HONEST. 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned living in Thailand which trumps all the others, it’s the fact that Thais will sugar coat everything except the truth. I’ve seen elephants at the conservatory, at zoos, and even a few times a week on the street here. But as far as elephants in the room go? Not a one. 

What I mean is this: Thais will call you out. If there’s something wrong, they’ll tell you. If there’s an inappropriate question, they’ll ask it. If they have an opinion, they’ll make it known. It’s these qualities that make me love the people so much. However, one opinion that everyone I’ve come across here seems to share is that I. Am. Fat. 

No one would ever say this to my face in America. Maybe a small child. Or a grumpy old man. Or a close friend who knows how to push my buttons, but only in jest. I’m sure it’s been said behind my back, but to my face? It just wouldn’t happen. Not because I’m not overweight, but because as Americans, it sometimes seems as though it’s a wild competition to see just exactly how many pink elephants we can stuff in a room. So many of us judge each other, but if asked our honest opinion, we’d smile and tell the person they’ve never looked better. Maybe this is only a Southern thing. And it’s not to say that I don’t have honest friends who’d be the first to tell me that yes, Kels, your butt does look big in those pants. But most of the people I know in America wouldn’t in a million years so much as hint I’m fat (again, to my face). 

What’s my motivation for this post? I’ll admit that my weight has been an issue to me for a while. When backpacking through Europe, I chose to do away with being health conscious, and instead made it my job, my very purpose in life, to taste every delicacy known to man in each and every country. Multiple times. My metabolism has never earned bragging rights, so naturally all those delicacies caught up with me. Somewhere between coming back to the states, moving around, and settling into a few jobs, I never could seem to shake the weight back off. So now at the heaviest I’ve ever been, I’ve inadvertently become Sensitive Sally. It’s not because that one little girl I told you about a couple of posts ago called me fat. It’s not because I feel big compared to the small stature of the Thais by whom I’m surrounded. It’s because every day, by multiple people and several times (ya know, in case I forget), I am told I am fat. It’s never in a mean insulting way, but rather just like telling me that I have blonde hair or blue eyes--”Oh, and teacha: you fat.” 

Now, before all (five) of my readers take a collective gasp and think I can’t believe those people would speak to her like that! She shouldn’t think that! How rude of them!, please know that I’m not taking it to heart...totally. At first, I laughed it off. I was mainly getting it from the kids, and I was just happy to hear them speak English so well. I jokingly mentioned it to one of the kindest teachers in the university here, and she replied, “Yes, the children will always tell the truth. But at least you have a pretty face!” In a way, it felt like she was saying Hey, at least you’ve got that going for ya! Maybe there’s some hope! In America, a mention like that would’ve gotten me a “Honey, don’t you dare listen to what those little babies are saying; they don’t know what they’re talking about!” In America, in America, in America...Dorothy, honey, we’re not in Kansas anymore. 

I hadn’t given too much thought to the situation (although I’m sure Meredith would disagree, as I’ve come home venting about the number of times on which it was commented each day--if only I had a baht for every time!) until a little girl asked me, as I so often get asked here (much like by my students in America), if I have a boyfriend. When I gave her “no” as my answer, she looked at me simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and replied “You fat, that’s why you no have boyfraaann.” That’s that, everybody. Alert the presses! Mystery solved! If only I knew enough Thai to put that little rugrat in her place...

I’ll admit: this one cut me deep. And then, to make matters worse, the same week a couple of the guys at the boxing ring (including my trainer) motioned to me that I needed to stop eating so much because I am fat. I’m always described as “the big one” when people are distinguishing between Meredith and me. The one that took the cake, though, was at the English camp I worked this weekend. They students were on a scavenger hunt, and one of their tasks was to find something fat. Oh yes, you guessed it. Passing up the 350 pound Buddha look-alike to my right, they came and took a picture of me to exemplify the characteristic. Excuse me?! If only they could grasp what a healthy eater I actually am! At each of these instances, I was distraught that people saw me this way. They don’t know me! They aren’t with me at mealtimes! I’m here working hard, aren’t I? Rude! 

All of these instances combined triggered my email writing. I typed away to my nearest and dearest, whining about being fat. Their responses were immediate, being the greatest friends that they are. My best friend, Ashley Bass, reassured me and suggested I think logically. Of course these people would call me fat because of what they had to compare against. They’re all of a tiny stature and are naturally skinny people. She padded my ego and made me smile again as only she knows how. Cain Anne, my other half, used a little less sugar when coating her words, which ended up being exactly the dosage I needed. Her reply was filled with the utmost reassurance as well, but also that extra kick in the pants telling me to suck it up. No, but really. Those were her exact words. “Suck it up, Crow. You are going to have to deal with people constantly pointing out your biggest insecurity because you live in a place where the citizens are genetically and economically thin.  Of course they think you are fat; look what they have to compare: other skinny Asians. You are strong, and you can do it.  Beg for it.  Embrace it.  You traveled all this way, and for what?  To be called fat?  No; you went there to make a difference.  You are there to change the lives of the most amazing children you will ever meet of course, but to also make a difference in your life.” The gal put it to me plain and simple. How am I supposed to argue with that?

Sometimes it takes people who know you better than you know yourself to remind you of what you already know to help you regain the strength to get your crap together, collect that negative energy, and convert it to positive. Did I make that as clear as mud? Thankfully (and unsurprisingly), they did just that. And between their immediate (and obviously effective) responses, Zach’s daily encouragement to keep kicking butt and taking names during boxing sessions, Meredith’s (daily, hourly, by the minute) patience, understanding, and guidance, and remembering Steven’s (who has earned the title of my most interesting closest friend) reminder that I am single right now because I choose to be, I am back on top and working harder than ever. 

That being said, I have continued to be diligent in my Muy Thai training, motorbiking it across town to be beaten to a pulp for nearly two hours every single day. I’m working the hardest I ever have. These sessions make everything else I’ve ever done before feel like child’s play. The physical change may be a slow and (I’m hoping) steady one, but the mental and emotional one has already far exceeded my expectations. This week, the guys gathered around the ring, clapping and cheering as I jabbed, kicked, blocked, and sparred against trainer, telling me how beautiful my forms were, clearly proud and telling the trainer he’s done well with me, and asking me when my first fight would be (I’m telling myself that their questioning was in support instead of being anxious to see me get my rear end handed to me in the ring). I’m finally at the level where trainer is wrapping my hands and hitting me back; I’ve reached the mark that made me want to begin training in the first place!

So I’m not in the figurative Kansas anymore. Thank God for it! Maybe their truth telling and ignoring of elephants is exactly the motivation I need to get my head in the game and become the very best person I can during my time in this country. With any luck (and by luck, I mean I will keep my determination, hard work, and perseverance at a maximum--it’s my promise to you, my five dedicated readers;), I’ll extend it to my next stop after Thailand, wherever in the world that may end up being.   

If anyone needs to borrow a soapbox, I’m done using mine. 

the old "neung-sawng"

Let me attempt to paint a picture for you. Hop on the motorbike with me (a little Vespa type, if you will---and yes, we finally got one and moved up on the road chain!). We'll weave in and out of traffic, forgetting all the rules you've ever learned and only looking out for yourself (because that's the Thai way). We'll jet across Uttaradit (way faster than we did on that stinkin' bicycle) with ease, passing tons of vendors selling Som Tam (my favorite Thai meal), durian (the most disgusting fruit on the planet), sticky rice, meat on a stick, iced coffee, sodas poured in bags instead of cups, among hundreds of other options. We'll pass the Tesco Lotus (which is the equivalent to Walmart) and head a little out of town. Just past a beautiful golden temple, we'll turn down a hidden dirt road, often muddy due to rainy season. We'll get a little deeper in the jungle before we finally make it to our destination, which is the real treat. Are you still with me?

Imagine turning into a little residence just off the dirt road, and parking the motorbike among the dogs and chickens that are wandering in the puddles or vegetation around the muddy "driveway." To the right, there's an open air house that's on stilts. Underneath the house, next to the kitchen area, there's an old TV set up with a few people around it watching boxing, which is what we're here to learn. To the left is where that will happen: a worn boxing ring with a roof over it, surrounded by 3 or 4 punching bags having the stuffing all but beaten out of them by the boxers in training. Welcome to my new gym!

I was excited about coming to Thailand for a thousand reasons, but training in Muy Thai was one of the highest on the list. As soon as we got settled here in our new town, I asked around about who could train me and was greeted with a lot of awkward looks that I didn't expect seeing as how this is the national sport of Thailand. Finally, I was introduced to my wonderful friend, Pond, who has a history with Muy Thai. Not only has she trained, but it's also how she met her fiance who just happens to be a professional Thai boxer in Bangkok. She took us to meet our trainer last week, and once I set eyes on the whole place, people, and all around experience, it was love at first sight.

I'm a lover of a challenge. To travel is challenging. To make things like this happen is a challenge. But also small personal challenges, like running which I started seriously in late 2009, get me excited. My last race was my ultra-marathon back in 2011, and having run it on injured knees, it was kind of a funeral for them. I've been avoiding racing and serious running since because I can physically feel the pain that it caused every time I think about that race. I know my running days aren't over because I'm not willing to let them go, but I want to push my body to the next limit with boxing. It's something in which I've always been interested and said I'd do, but I've never taken the time to get serious with it. I promised myself not to pass the opportunity up now that I'm in the prime country for it.

I've dabbled in boxing before. My mom did her share of boxing as I was growing up, and I even taught a cardio-kickboxing class in college, but I've never had formal training. One of my best friends, Zach,  has a few black belts (no big deal, right?), so for a couple of months before I left we had some training and sparring sessions to get me ready. And thank goodness for them! I'm not in any kind of shape to be good yet, but Zach was able put details about form into words, which is something I can't get from my new trainer because he doesn't speak English.

So more about my new trainer and gym...but you'll have to use your imagination for a bit longer.

The trainer is probably my dad's age (so 30, right Daddy?), and made of 100% muscle (just like my dad, too ;), but not the bulky body builder type. This guy is just plain brick wall material. And get this: he's kind of famous. He's a retired professional boxer who was (and still is) known around the country. Pretty awesome that he, a man who talks, sleeps, eats, and breathes Thai boxing, is taking the time to instruct two Americans who have no real prior knowledge of the sport. He knows 5 English words: kick, block (which he pronounces "bok"), one, two, and good. Between that and watching the few other guys that train with us at the "gym," it's really all we need. He's as sweet as he can be, but what's best is that he pushes me harder than I've ever experienced, and it's exactly what I was hoping for. I wanted someone who makes me keep going when I can't, and holy canoli, he does that. Once we're done with the hour and a half session in the ring full of my trainer giving commands and what seems like millions of repetitions of "the old one-two"(or "the old neung-sawng" as we now call it in Thai), he motions to the floor which means it's time for the required number of sit ups and push ups. After that, there's bag work that consists of hundreds of reps to attempt to perfect knees, kicks, and punches. I've run 26 miles at a time and not been as tired as I am after a 2 hour boxing session. It takes every muscle and ounce of concentration. Sweating is to be expected any time in Thailand, but add being outside and boxing, and I can literally ring sweat out of my t-shirt once I'm finished (and then wash it off on the ab racks of the guys that train with us)!

This is actually one of my driest nights!

The guys at the gym are so patient. Our trainer is hilarious, too. When we work on front kicks to the stomach, he always falls backwards to humor me even though I know if I kicked him with all the force I could muster up straight in the abs, he wouldn't budge an inch. And the guys who train with us (who fight competitively and are on their way to being professional status) are so much fun to watch and learn from. At first it was awkward because no one speaks English, and my Thai as of now is a joke unless we're in a restaurant (see what I mean about the eating!?), but now it's just a good time when they show us different moves or let us spar with them (which is my favorite part :). It also helps that they're wildly attractive. They guys share about 1% body fat among them. 

Boxing now consumes the majority of my thoughts. When I wake up in the morning, I'm excited because I get to spend all day with my kiddos, and then after that head straight to the ring. Plus the more I fight, the more I'm able to eat afterwards. How sweet of a deal is that? I got to see my first live Thai boxing matches this past weekend. It's like the whole town gets together for these things. They set up as if the fair is coming to town; there are vendors selling food, drinks, and toys. Everyone hangs out until the fights start. They let us sit in the V.I.P. section, and made us feel as if we were almost as important as the main event! The evening started with the smaller boys, probably around age 12. Later in the night, the fights made their way up to grown men. Each of the fights were equally entertaining, and we even saw a couple of guys get knocked out. Everything is so alive; the crowd goes crazy, the boxers are animated, and there are guys placing and running bets for each round. I can't get enough of the atmosphere, and I can't help but get invested in the fighters more and more each match. I don't know if I'd ever be able to have a real go at it; for now, training is exciting enough for me. We shall see...All I'm sure of is if there's one thing that feels better than being in the ring, it's hopping on the motorbike to ride home, feeling a sense of accomplishment the whole way. 

After my first night. Go big or go home!

Things I've learned in Thailand so far:

33. Ask for Som Tam "nid noi phet," which means to Thais "just a little bit spicy" which means to us "tolerable only if consumed with a gallon of water."
34. Speaking of Som Tam, pronunciation is key. If you say Som Tom, or Sam Tam, no one will have even the slightest clue what you're talking about. If your pronunciation is even the slightest bit off, you are out of luck.
35. Leave food out anywhere for longer than 5 minutes? Come back expecting a side of ants.
36. All fruits have their own season. This is not the issue. The issue is that when they're not in season, they pickle them. Don't ask for mango in the off season. You will get pickled mango. And you will not like it. 
37. In boxing, when kicking and/or punching, the boxers yell a word as they exert the most force. The reason for this is the release of bad spirits. I am still trying to come up with the perfect demon releasing word. 
38. I've found chocolate milk (in a little juice box looking container) to be one of the most refreshing treats. 
39. Our Thai friend No (yes, that's her name), the sweet lady we met who graduated from Mercer University with her undergrad and the University of Alabama with her Masters, made us an entire notebook full of helpful ways to learn Thai. The epitome of kindness!
40. Dessert most nights is a fresh fruit smoothie made from any fruit of my choice. All organic ingredients, and all naturally sweetened. Dragon fruit is my favorite so far. Tonight I'm trying carrot! Hey, when in Thailand...