I was recently informed that volunteers in other countries refer to Peace Corps Thailand as ‘posh corps.’ Part of me is screaming ‘are you kidding!?! But, as you’re about to see, there’s some truth in that title.
In May I moved out of my host family’s house and into a large rental house that came complete with lots of things. Many of them are good for nothing but collecting gecko poop, but I’m enjoying my tile floors, refrigerator, cell phone reception, microwave, and U.S.-style tables with chairs.
THE ROAD HOME (from school)
The road that goes to my village is 2.5 km long. It doesn’t have an official name, but some teachers at my school named it the ‘pothole road’ because there are, although not in this picture, a gazillion potholes in this road.
Snazzy, huh? (I wasn’t into living in such a snazzy place at first (perpetuating the ‘rich American’ assumption), but then I had a very difficult time getting a steady supply of drinking water delivered to my house and tried to do dishes without a sink during a thunder storm and decided I was sufficiently ‘roughing it.’ (My counterpart chose this house for me. A married couple of PCVs lived here for a few months previously, but went home because of digestive problems).
This is the back of the house, and the house with the red roof belongs to the landlords. My kitchen is under the awning. That heap of green stuff was burned later this day (thank you, landlords, for ensuring a smoke-filled life) and there’s been a 24/7 construction project going on back here. I’ve had an attentive audience (now that the parade’s over I’m on a stage) of construction workers for over a month now.
This is the hallway, much of which is taken up by cabinets full of things that belong to the landlords, including satin boxers. The the windows on the left open into a storage area that belongs to the whole world. This is CLEAN, by the way. It doesn’t look it, but take my word for it…
I mentioned a construction project happening outside my kitchen. Well this is a house being delivered to my house on a truck. That’s Mr. Landlord watching from my front porch. (I’m taking the picture from my living room).
My stove. This was the day I rode my bike to town and bought what I needed to cook my very own sticky rice. Many people in my life are incredulous when I tell them I make my own sticky rice. I’ve had more than one person shout in my face ‘NO, NO, WHO COOKS RICE FOR YOU!?’ repeatedly until some other Thai person who has witnessed my rice steaming abilities confirms that I can indeed put rice in a basket and stick it over a pot of boiling water.
My lovely bathroom. I recently stuck a hose on the end of that tap and abandoned the true bucket shower (I was tired of things dying in the basin and not being able to drain the thing). The hose method hasn’t made the water any less slimy. I keep meaning to google ‘slimy water thailand’ to see if I can figure out what makes the water taste like it’s from the ocean (I don’t drink it on purpose).
This is George. I haven’t gotten to the point where I can kill scorpions yet (big crunch, big splatter, I’d imagine) so I just let them be and they don’t bother me (although I hear that scorpion bites are badddd.)