Lost in Translation
“Careful of Non-Thai pick-pocketing gangs.” ~ A Sign at the Reclining Buddha Temple
This month I’m reflecting on how my travel experiences have expanded my perspective. In today’s blog I’m writing about the month I spent in Thailand with my son in July 2011. He had just graduated from high school and I had just made the decision to separate from my husband. I was moving in with my mom when we got back to Calgary, until I could find a place of my own.
The adventure to Thailand had been planned more than a year before. I had organized it through a volunteer organization called Cross-Cultural Solutions after a super positive experience in South Africa in 2008 with my daughter. They provided us with all kinds of information about the culture, expectations for our volunteer roles, and support in general. But nothing prepared me for how far and how wide I was about to be thrown out of my comfort zone.
Home Base was a converted old mansion that would become our home away from home for the next three weeks. A full staff of volunteers provided us services, from drivers, cooks, and cleaners to the leaders of the program. Our group of volunteers came from all over the world (but mostly Canada and the US), and were aged 17-25, except me (age 45 at the time) and one other mom.
Once all the participants had arrived from overseas, an Orientation meeting was held. We learned about things like no flushing toilet paper in the fragile sewer system and how to use the electric showers (which often translated into cold). I found out the females would share one room and tiny bathroom on the top floor. We were taught some Thai history and culture and received more information about our placements. The first activity was a scavenger hunt ice breaker, which set the tone for the positive connections that would be formed in the weeks to come.
That night a group of us decided to go to a night club called Q-Bar. We walked to the row of taxis nearest Home Base, but none of the taxis would accept us because our directions were lost in translation. We were asking them to take us to 34 Soi 11, but Soi in Thai is the word for alley, not a street name, and they were confused. We trudged back home in the 38 degree humidity (even at night), printed off the address, walked back, and achieved success.
At the orientation we’d been warned not to consume ice or water as it was often contaminated, but we didn’t know how to ask for no ice because we didn’t speak the language and they didn’t speak ours. You’d think we might have foregone drinks, and I did consider the option of ordering bottled water, until our server announced it was Ladies Night, which entitled us to two free drink tickets. All the young women seemed not to care about consequences, and suddenly it was like I was back in high school, being a sheep in the flock and doing what “everyone else” did.
I embarrassed myself and my son, and unfortunately it wouldn’t be the only time. I got sick. Violently sick. It turned out to be the first of many, many episodes of what we soon coined as “Thai Tummy.” A rollercoaster ride of fluctuating blood sugars ensued that was so severe I thought I might need to be hospitalized more than once. I was so far out of my comfort zone I couldn’t find it to regroup and ground myself and I remained in a constant state of unease.
Weekday mornings we piled into various buses to be transported to our placements. My son and I were assigned to an elementary school to teach children basic English language skills. It took an hour and a half each way to our school due to congested traffic, so we were only there from 10:00 until 2:00. Our teacher advisor preferred to keep us comfortable in the air-conditioned staffroom (which I took to calling the isolation room) than engaged in the hot classroom.
We were rotated through five classes each day, with 35-40 children in each one, so it was challenging to connect with the children in the way we’d hoped. But they loved the action songs we taught them, the activities we organized, and seeing photos of Canada, especially the snow. I think their favourite part was when we acted out stories for them, like “Are You My Mother?” Especially my son. He is 6.3”, and I’m sure the students will tell their children about the time a friendly giant from Canada came to their classroom for years to come.
Weekday evenings we went on outings to temples, the Grand Palace, the Reclining Buddha, and the iconic Khosan Road. We had a lot of fun, but there were always, always, problems with translation. One time I asked a taxi driver to take us back to Home Base but he didn’t understand my directions. I asked a policeman standing nearby for help after I heard him speak a few words of English, and he laughed out loud as he corrected me, “Not Wang Su Lang, Wang Su Wang!”
Weekends were free time for us volunteers and we organized trips to various tourist attractions. Our first was a road trip / speed boat to Ko Samet beach (where I got my inspiration for a scene in The Rogue Scorpion). The second was a bus ride to the Kantaburi Elephant reserve and Erewan Waterfalls. The trainers used bull sticks and we passed a baby elephant chained to a post on our tour. Another difference in cultural attitudes that somehow got lost in translation in the brochures.
Our final destination after the program ended was to Phuket and then onto Ko Phi-Phi with some of the volunteers we’d become good friends with. Our last four days in Thailand, we took a ferry to Railey Island, just my son and me. We got separated when we had to transfer onto different Thai Long Boats, and I was terrified I would never see my son again. As it was, he was waiting for me at the hotel when I arrived. The concierge gave us what they thought would be a delightful surprise—an upgrade from two twin beds to a king. More lost in translation to endure, but it was resolved easy enough with a dividing wall constructed from clothing and towels.
All the beaches in Thailand were spectacular, but it was during that last stop in Railey that my son and I stumbled onto what I would describe as the most beautiful beach in the world. We’d been walking through the jungle, a bit lost, when he heard the waves crashing and when we emerged from the tangle of trees, we discovered a white sand beach with no garbage and crystal clear turquoise ocean waters encircled by black limestone cliffs. After more than three weeks of complaining about the discomforts, I’d finally found a sanctuary, if only briefly.
Despite all the struggles, I was grateful for the opportunity. My son and I experienced a different culture. We made strong connections with the other volunteers as well as the kind-hearted people who ran Home Base. I felt closer to him than I had before. Not everything was lost in translation.
COMING UP…
Books & Projects:
· All four of my books are available online at Amazon, Chapters-Indigo, and Barnes & Noble. You can also find them at select Chapters-Indigo and El Hombre de la Mancha bookstores.
· I am pursuing representation from a traditional publisher for my fifth literary fiction, a psychological drama that explores the complexities of mental illness and trauma. Stay in touch by signing up for my blog or following me on social media to find out when it will be published.
Reviews & Interviews:
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YouTube Channel:
· Watch The Rogue Scorpion trailer.
· Watch The Holding trailer.
· Watch The Healing trailer.