Editors note: Alison D. is a current participant in GSC’s International Health Program. Thanks for the post Alison!

Overall things are going really well here!! All of last week was spent in an eco house outside Singburi (a small town north of Bangkok). It was a wonderful place with bunk bed style living, a beautiful garden, a small shack like house that doubled as a bar across the street (yes- bar! Christmas lights, mystery “bucket” drinks, and Top Hits from 1996 included!) The eco house also served delicious vegetarian meals three times a day (biscuits and tea ALWAYS available). Most of our time here was spent on the porch learning about Thai culture, learning about how to teach English as a foreign language, learning how to teach HIV/AIDS education, listening to Eric (our trip coordinator) tell stories that may have been relevant at the beginning, and taking Thai language classes (us speaking Thai= humor for all. . . deu-an ga-rak ga-dah-kom, that means July. . .I think the reason things take a while to get done around here has less to do with their relaxed Buddhist lifestyles and more to do with the intricacies of there language).

Unfortunately, our idyllic stay at the eco house came to a close yesterday and we were all shipped of to our various home stays around the province. I am living with one other person, Katrina. Our family is AWESOME. The mom and dad (Ying and Golf. . . nick names) both work for Greenway, a non profit that is a partner of Global Service Corps. They have two kids, pat (4) and pear (2 1/2) (nick names again). Pat is extremely shy and only talks when he thinks I can’t see/hear him. On the other hand, pear is a little ball of Thai-child spunk. Her hair is always in short braided pigtails that stick straight up and she is always causing mischief. Also, Golf’s dad and mom both live in the house, his aunt lives across the street, his grandmother lives next door, and his sister lives two doors down. All the women in his life are within 50 feet of him at all times, any man should hope to be so lucky! Thai’s value family, this I have experienced first hand. The uncle came over last night and was sitting on the porch with a small child in his arms when I walked out. He immediately thrust the half naked baby into my hands, laughed, and walked off. Leaving me, of course, with a terrified baby who had never seen a white person.

To list a few other funny/awkward instances: there are no flushing toilets in the house, there is also no toilet paper or air conditioning, the grandfather walks around all day with a small towel around his waste and covered in baby powder to keep him from sweating, the bed I share with Katrina is covered with knock off hello kitty sheets, the rooster starts crowing at 330 and doesn’t stop until around 7 (just in time to wake up), the baby powder sodden mostly naked grandfather keeps trying to turn the TV to one of the two English channels for us (one of which is an angry Christian screaming about redemption and the other is a scandalous music video of white girls dancing around a country singer in the back of a pick up truck. . . so proud I am of how westerners are represented abroad), EVERY single meal is eaten over white rice, Katrina and I got lost in the monsoon today while walking home from the hospital (two farang, trudging through ankle deep water in skirts, huddled under a 15 baht umbrella), the nurses in the hospital call me Ann because they can’t pronounce my name, and they call Katrina “Kat” and then they often say “meow” afterwards while giggling words to each other that we most definitely can’t understand.

Our first day at the hospital was a pretty cool experience. We spent the first 4 hours taking peoples blood pressure, pulse, weight, and asking them how tall they were (song-tow-rai-ka?). I now know all my numbers in Thai! Also, I think the hospital employees kept tying to sneak in line so I would take there vitals. They pretended they were patients and I pretended that I was fooled. Later I shadowed a Thai psychologist while he counseled a teacher who had brought a few “troubles students” in for psychological attention. The children had never been to a doctor before even though they had noticeable signs of retardation and were no less than 11 years old. Amazingly, the teacher did not tell the parents she was bringing the students into the doctor, and the doctor didn’t mind keeping the secret.