The Good. The Bad. The Unfortunate.

The River Kwai Bridge Lingers Still

The Good.

As the dainty, pink toe of my right foot tentatively broke the tranquility of the water’s surface, macabre images from the James Bond film “You Only Live Twice” came to mind. I envisioned the scene where the inept henchmen plummets into the piranha-infested pool. Beneath my foot, agitated swarms of trout-sized fish darted through the water, lunging at anything that so much as wiggled or gave them the wrong eye- my toes, for example. Remarkably, several (hundred) mid-sized fish gently nibbling at your flesh is actually quite agreeable, as long as you can force select movie scenes from your thoughts.

I was able to experience this and other less-exotic sensations during this last weekend, which I spent with a friend and his two daughters touring Kanchanaburi. This region is significant for being the location of the notorious WWII bridge over Kwai River. The bridge was but a small aspect of an expansive railroad the Japanese military had constructed from Burma to Thailand as a vital supply line. Japanese engineers initially calculated the entire project would require 6 years to complete, but with forced POW labor, it was constructed within an incomprehensible 16 months. This is a subtle insight upon the horrific brutality the POW’s endured during its construction- it wasn’t coined the “Death Railway” for no reason.

Kanchanaburi WWII Monument

While there, we were able to journey to the bridge and visit an impressive WWII Museum constructed alongside river’s bank. However, a trip to Kanchanaburi would not be complete without paying respects to the lofty Erwan Falls: a 7-tiered waterfall that spans several kilometers, warranting an excellent afternoon hike.

Besides making friends with swarms of ravenous fish, we were able to observe gregarious brown monkeys battle out territory rights high in the lofty treetops, not to mention the fabulous dips we helped ourselves to in crystalline pools fashioned by the endless, cascading waters.

If only every weekend was this good!

The Bad.

Briefly said, classes end in three weeks and I have suddenly come down with an onrush of endoftheyearitis. Officially, I will be teaching 6th grade next year upon my request and although I believe it to be a good change, I am beginning to realize that I will greatly miss all of my junior high students, albeit their sudden outbursts of emotion and angst amidst class lessons. I have learned so much through them, and I know I will b

7th Tier Waterfall

e leaving them in capable hands. However, I believe that as a teacher, you give something of yourself to every class, every student, and when as summer’s days loom closer, it is as though they are taking a part of you with them- the sense of loss sets in.

The Unfortunate.

This as much a sadness to me as it might be a relief to some of you (joking, ofcourse)- I will not be returning to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania for the summer. I have chosen to remain here and teach summer school in place of a couple who have wanted to return to the States as early as possible. Even though I am saddened by the memories and occasions with many of you which will now exist only as lost possibilities, I am eager for what the summer’s prospects have in store.

After teaching summer school, I will be given one month of break in which I am planning to return to my beloved Bali and spend two weeks surfing and exploring the island. After that, I will head up to the place of my origin ( the Philippines), and spend a week or two vacationing with my mom who runs, among other things, a medical clinic in a tribal location on the main island Luzon.

So there it is: The good, The bad, and the unfortunate aspects of my immediate past. Stay in touch!

A Refuge for the Weary Tourist

American Identity: Virtuous or Villainous?

It wasn’t the expression on the Thai schoolboy’s face in the bus seat across the aisle that caused me to abruptly look up from my reading, but rather the fixation of his stare. To my surprise, I traced his gaze down to my lap, upon which my book rested: “The Ugly American.” Although I am not sure what exactly was going through the youth’s mind (actually, probably something along the lines of “hmm… I wonder what’s for supper tonight?”), it did catch me off guard. But admittedly, the book has a rather catchy, albeit coarse, title.

The book, written in the late 1950’s, does a fairly accurate job of portraying post-WWII American foreign policy in the region of Southeast Asia. Although it is considered a fictional work, it was constructed around documented situations and American foreign policy that existed during the initial stages of America’s self-vindicated war against Marxist ideals surging southward from mainland China.

As an American both raised and currently working in the region discussed within the book, I found its narrative to be both gloriously uplifting and intensely shaming. Especially in an era where to be cynical and unpatriotic towards one’s country is “the new black”, it provoked a question within me which I had long concealed for the sake of assimilation- have I fully embraced my identity as an American citizen?

Don’t worry. This will not amount to a abusive torrent of depreciating remarks concerning the country or its crisp gold seal emblazoned across the navy blue cover of my passport- nothing of the sort. However, let’s just be honest with each other for a moment, shall we?

In researching this idea of the American Identity, I was interested to discover that the American reputation abroad was fairly healthy during the turn of the century. In fact, before leaving office, former president Clinton had made a tour of Vietnam with his family, openly addressing the animosity and distrust resulting out of the Vietnam War in hopes to open a segue for reconciliation between the two countries. His trip proved to be highly successful.

However, since the brink of the 21st century, America’s credibility have taken a turn for the worse. Regardless of whether you have been supportive of the previous administration that has dominated U.S. politics , it is no stretch of any kind to state that the past decade has caused serious injury upon America’s reputation within the international arena.

This distrust for our nation has filtered down to the level of the individual. As soon as I have met foreigners here in Thailand and they discover that I am an American, there are already strong preconceptions formed concerning what I am like. I know this to be true because several mentioned this after we had more spent more time together. To their surprise, they recognized that not all Americans really are “loud, arrogant, and obnoxious.”

I have struggled to understand what it really means to inherit this title of “American”, and if I can even legitimately claim it as my own. I feel so comfortable, so at ease to back in Asia, the place where I spent the majority of my childhood and teenage years. However, I have come to recognize that I am these no longer- the child or the teenager- and that although there is still much I do not understand about the country of my parent’s origin, there is much within it that I admire and respect: the warmth of her people, its social and humanitarian progress in the last 50 years, and the resilience it has shown despite times of instability and fear.

I don’t want to give away the books’ conclusion, but I will say that it ends not by completely lambasting America for her errors, but extending obeisance toward the countless individuals who worked, ate, and struggled alongside their Thai, Cambodian, and Vietnamese counterparts- living as one of them and not apart from them. These individuals spearheaded agricultural, dairy, and economic programs that were extremely effective in their day, and were done with no strings attached; the best type of international aide.

These are things I truly do admire about my country, and despite its many downfalls, there is still something within me that stirs when its anthem reaches its extravagant crescendo.