Lessons Learned

Coming back to the United States has been fun and busy for me, and I am putting to use a few lessons I learned in Thailand that I will never forget.

            I was at my third layover in Chicago on my journey home to Georgia. Everything up until then had gone according to plan, but because of thunderstorms in the Atlanta area, my plane was delayed a few hours. I was very tired after having traveling so far and long. The last thing I wanted to happen was to be stuck in an unfamiliar airport with a bunch of unfamiliar people. However, I was able to meet two friendly people nearby who became my friends for the next few hours. We went out for beers and had conversations about our travels and professions. It was so interesting and fun to meet them and share the time together that would otherwise be spent in impatient crankiness. This scenario helped me realize one of the lessons I learned while in Thailand, one that I had intended to learn even before going: Friendship is there if you seek it out. I went to Thailand not knowing anyone ahead of time with the challenge to myself that I would make new friends. It took internal trust and courage to be outgoing and to initiate interaction. It also took open-mindedness to other beliefs and lifestyles. The results of this lesson were rewarding. I made many new friends on the trip and now feel stronger in my ability to connect with others in the future.

            The third layover delay also brought to light another lesson. Living in the moment is something far more valuable than pictures and memories. Life experiences are better when fully experienced with awareness and mindfulness. The delay of our flight pushed our flight back to about a 9 PM take-off, prime time for a Chicago fireworks display on the 4^th of July from above. Thankful for a window seat, I gazed down on dozens of private and public fireworks displays all over the city. It was such a moving and meaningful experience because it felt like such a celebration. I was coming home after growing so much on my travels to Thailand! I took no pictures, because I knew they would never be as good as the full experience I was having in that moment. I know that the experiences in which I was consciously present, thus not thinking about past or future, I remember in a positive and meaningful light. When I went to Thailand, I knew I wanted pictures and mementos, but I wanted raw life experiences even more. And with gentle reminders from others in the group and me, I was able to see the world from a more present and therefore more real perspective.

            The third lesson I learned through observing and implementing music therapy. The music works, even without the words. Many of the clients we worked with did not know English, so we used music as a tool of communication. I remember one client I had in the pediatric setting, a young boy of around five years, running around the room waywardly, not engaging in anything we tried. In exasperation, I decided maybe we could change the music to match his energy and see what he did. He stood still for a few seconds, caught off guard by the music, and began to move again. But this time he was responding to the music by dancing; his movements more or less matched the music. With the gradual slowing and softening of the musical qualities, he calmed down just a little bit, all without a single word. The miracle of music as a communication tool was never as clear to me as it was in Thailand.

Hopefully I can bring all of my lessons into play in my life in the United States. My ability to make friends will help in my travels across the country this summer and my internship this coming year. Living mindfully in the moment will allow me to savor life, wherever I am, and also to be open to learning more. Finally, I hope the power of music as communication will continue to be a part of my work as a music therapy intern and a music therapist.

What lessons have you learned in Thailand or while being in a new place?

Redefining Normal

Hi everyone, my name is Brighton and I'm a music therapy major at Colorado State University, with cello as my main instrument. I'm so thankful God has blessed me with the ability to perform music and a heart for helping and healing people, so I'm excited to share my experiences from Thailand!

How does one define normal? Can normal ever change? It did for me, over the course of 5 long and yet short weeks in Thailand. I’m sure by now you have all read our experiences of culture shock upon arriving in Thailand and accounts of how we adjusted. Never did I imagine that I could immerse myself in a foreign culture so deeply that returning to my own country would seem odd. After all, compared to 21 years of being raised in America, could 5 weeks in another country really affect me that much? Apparently so! It was this discovery that made me realize how my day to day expectations had broadened since staying in Thailand. My “normal” did change after all.

The most noticeable change was my eagerness to learn. I am not referring to learning in a typical academic context but rather in a constant striving to soak up any new experience every minute of every day. When a comfortable rug of assumptions was pulled out from under me, I could no lounge around on my familiar customs. Instead had to use every opportunity to learn and adjust! What a challenge and yet also an exhilaration to always be gaining new knowledge in Thailand– bowing (called a “wai”) when greeting someone, taking off my shoes when entering a building, ordering and eating unfamiliar food, communicating without verbal language, waving down a taxi, driving on the left side of the road, haggling in the markets…the list goes on and on of things I learned while travelling. It was challenging having to earn all these processes because I could not take a break and function in the culture without knowing them. And yet, it was exciting to have a mindset of constant learning and to be open to new experiences. I always love a good adventure, so it wasn’t too hard for me to adjust to this lifestyle. It became my new normal to make every encounter into a learning experience and then from that apply what I learned to future circumstances. I was never once bored; every place I went, every person with whom I interacted, everything I saw and heard was an adventure!

We have a running joke with the trip members that Thailand is our Narnia, our fantastic world of friends and adventure. It definitely felt like Narnia to me – almost like a secret fantasy world where everything is magical and exciting, created for the purpose of learning and personal growth in such a way that wouldn’t have been possible in normal life. I teamed up with eight other students to facilitate music therapy in hospitals and rehab settings and learn about Thai music during lessons at the school. I walked to school every day through a beautiful tropical setting with green plants, flowers, ponds, and giant lizards calmly monitoring the water. Food was cheap and delicious, no matter how strange it looked. Fruit was served with every meal and the smoothies were to die for! I survived walking through and haggling at the crowded markets and saw the most exquisite sites of Thailand with the team. We learned the meaning of quality social time and planning because we had no cell phones or instant means of electronic communication. We climbed coconut trees, played giant gongs, saw crocodile wrestlers, and rode elephants together. All of these things I’ll miss dearly, but I know most importantly I have shared in this experience with a team, now family, of people that will always be around to share in memories and support me in the future.

As I left Thailand, I thought of the ending scene in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The Pevensies had entered Narnia as children and quickly forgot the world they left behind as Narnia became their new home that they knew and loved so deeply. They then reigned in Narnia as kings and queens for years. After all that time, what a shock it was to return to earth through the wardrobe and discover that everything was just as they had left it. But no matter how little things had changed at home, they knew and remembered everything that had happened in Narnia. That’s as best as I can illustrate how I feel about leaving Thailand and returning home – I may look the same outwardly, but I’ve grown so much as a person and clinician through the few weeks that I’ll never forget. Now the challenge will be to take what I have learned abroad and apply it to my faith, relationships, and school at home. Although everything here seems the same, it will not be boring; I won’t let it be. I’m changing my new normal and setting bigger dreams, higher hopes, and challenging myself more than before. Ready or not, here I come!

Was there ever a time in your life where normal changed for you, and what did that look like?

Mai Bpen Rai

Hi, my name is Rianne Matthews. I am a music therapy student from Colorado State University and, now that I’ve returned to the US, I am with my family in a small bluegrass-friendly town outside of Boulder.

“Mai bpen rai.” It’s a phrase you hear a lot in Thailand that, loosely, translates to “no worries”. It permeates everything from a standard “you’re welcome” to loose concepts of time to high levels of tolerance and patience. This past week I learned how much I want to incorporate a little more “Mai bpen rai” into my life now that I’m back in America.

            Each July, there is a week-long music camp that allows middle school and high school students to participate in rehearsals, classes, concerts, and social experiences that help them to grow as musicians. I am very fortunate in that this is the third year I’ve been a camp counselor there. However, this year was the most stressful that I have experienced. There was a combination of both average (though frustrating) drama of 8^th grade girls and the unexpected, over the top conduct instances that required us to make frequent contact with local police authorities. Unfortunately, luck had it that I ended up dealing with many of these situations directly and the result was a feeling of more stress, anger, and general emotional distress than I had ever dealt with before.

            Upon reflection of this week, a few simple realizations came to me. The 1^st: I couldn’t change any of the chaos that happened. The 2^nd: I could’ve changed the way I reacted. True, it’s difficult to be calm and happy when it feels like all Hell is breaking loose around you. However, I could’ve kept a “mai bpen rai” attitude and, instead of dwelling on the things that didn’t go right, move forward with an air of acceptance and forgiveness.

           As the type of person with a Type A personality, I have a hard time accepting things that are outside of my control and strive for perfection. I need to learn to take some of that easygoing attitude I was so surrounded with (and had started to utilize) in my Thailand experience and bring it back to real life circumstances. True, it’s very difficult. Coming back to the environment where I was so used to being hyper-perfection oriented made me forget that I had ever begun to learn any differently. All the same it can be important to decreasing the stress in an individual and to increasing the general wellbeing of everyone that individual has some sort of interaction with.

            I hope that you all will be able to begin incorporating some more relaxed thinking into whatever it is you do. Ask yourself: does this really matter? Be as willing to forgive the mistakes of other people as you would want them to be forgiving of you – or rather more so. Take some time to breathe and enjoy some good food and some time outdoors. Do whatever you can to go with the flow whenever you can.

            How can we teach ourselves to go from rapid-pace chaos thinking to “Mai bpen rai”?

 

To Make a Life Different

"How Many People Does It Take to Make a Difference?"
This is not a question from me; this is the title of a book that we used in this Thailand trip. To be honest, when Dr. Dena asked us to buy this book, I laughed. In nature, I’m not the type of person who’s good at thinking about something; I’m better at just doing something. Indeed, my experience of using this book was quite painful, because I had no idea how to answer those deep and big philosophical questions. Even right now, typing this blog is murdering my brain cells; I’m just so poor at analyzing myself and exposing my thoughts. But I told myself, this is what I have to do. If I want to give a meaning to all these days in Thailand, if I want to find an answer for what I should do after this trip, if I want to mark down this milestone in my life … I have to type all these words out.
Genes, education, and environment built my competitive and ambitious personality. In my mind, my life cannot be mediocre and common; my life must be different and outstanding, otherwise, it has no meaning. Indeed, before entering college, I was always the top student in all areas and had never really met any big challenges. However, the college life in US was much more difficult than I had ever expected. The first weekend in US, I walked three hours to Walmart because I didn’t know buses would not run on Sunday, and of course there was no taxi on road. The first week after school started, I slept for only 15 hours in the whole week in order to understand all the lectures and finish all the assignments. The first Thanksgiving at KU, I stayed in a temporary dorm room alone for seven days, and apples and donuts were the only food I had. The first final week in college, I kept awake for 40 hours to prepare for all the exams. The first summer break at home, I was hospitalized three times, because overwhelmed stress and unfamiliar environment destroyed my health … Slowly, I began to doubt my decision. Why did I choose to study in a foreign country that has completely different culture? Why did I choose to be away from my family? Why did I choose to make my life so hard? If I didn’t decide to be a music therapist, would my life be easier and happier? Is this what I really want to do for my entire life?
I kept questioning myself. My stress was accumulated and finally reached the top last year, when I started my practicum at school and found out how difficult it was for an international student. Right before going to Thailand this summer, I just had a battle with my parents about my future, and got on the plane with tears in my eyes.
During the first week in Thailand, I was not doing very well. Besides all the environmental issues and life difficulties, I still remembered that in my first Thailand trip in 2008, I was the only one in the group who could not contribute very much in discussions. Those embarrassing memories pushed me to an anxious and depressed mood. However, the situation changed in our first observation in Sirindhorn rehabilitation center. In the session with a group of adults, Karn used a Chinese song which was very popular in 70’s. When I heard the familiar music, I was so shocked that I almost jumped up. I would never imagine hearing such a song in such a situation! With questions in my heart, after the session, I privately asked Karn why he chose this recorded music instead of popular Thai songs. He told me that many of these clients were immigrants from China; they really loved those songs.
Well then, will it be the only opportunity for me to contribute to this trip?
Once having this idea, I started to plan my clinical work. I tried to convince my teammate that Chinese songs would be very effective for this population, and I got great support from them. I talked with Karn about what songs I could use and how I should use them. I spent hours to loop a song and memorized all the lyrics. Then, on the first day I led the session with older adults, I knew I found something. Just like a firework was released in the darkness, a new way was lightened for me. I realized, although language was always my biggest weakness, when the cultural barrier was crossed, I could be equally good, or even better than everyone else. I finally found my place and value, because this was something that only I could do.
The success of first clinical experience brought me great confidence, which was so important for me at that time. In following practicum, I became more open and more creative. Also, because my worries about language and culture were released, I became more cooperative in group work. My effort was rewarded by all kinds of touching moments. In my journals, following notes began to appear –
“Jun. 14 – today, a gentleman requested me to sing a song for the group, even though I was not leading the session. He said my singing was No. 1!”
“Jun. 28 – today, an old lady cried when I started singing. She had no facial expression at all before. Her daughter told me she was very happy to hear these songs again.”
“Jun. 30 – today is the last day for clinical work. The nurse spoke with me in Chinese, “Xie xie, ni de ge hen hao ting (Meaning: Thank you. Your singing was great.).”
The last night before leaving Thailand, I opened my journals, reviewed all the words and all those moments. Suddenly, a lightning crashed in my heart – isn’t it the answer I have been looking for?
So far in my life, I had spent so much time to chase after glories, to compete with everyone else, to make my life different and meaningful. I had spent so much time to move toward my goal, but ignored the pleasure and joy along the road. I had spent so much time to push myself higher and higher, but forgot to take a break and really think about what I wanted.
Maybe, just maybe, after hearing my songs, these clients will have a sweet dream. They may recall some old memories about hometown and chatter with their families. Or maybe after a long time, they might still remember that one day, a young music therapist from China sang a song for them and brought them pleasure – and they may not know that, the young therapist from China, will also remember their smiles forever.
How lucky I am to witness their joy? How lucky I am to bring pleasure to so many people? How many people will be as lucky as me, to have the chance to participate in the process of change a person’s life?
And now I am sure, there will be no way for me to abandon music therapy, because I would never get the same pleasure and excitement from anywhere else.
How many people does it take to make a difference?
To be honest … I don’t know.
But I can say, when I am making others’ life different, my life is also becoming different.

Question: What is one thing that you value most or motivates you the most in your current life?

The Body Speaks

Traditional Thai massage is one of my favorite things in Thailand. A typical Thai massage is often a great treat for senses - lying in a room filled with aroma and dim light, having soft Thai clothes covered on body, and experiencing the massage from toe to head – those often make the most enjoyable moment during the journey.
Before getting a Thai massage, communication was one of my concerns, because most massagists do not speak English very well. Some of them were able to use simple words to give directions, such as “sit” and “turn over”; some of them could not speak English at all. This means that I was not able to tell massagist how I feel and what I would like her to do. But later I found out that communication was not an issue that I should worry about, because my body can speak for me. For example, when a massagist was massaging my leg one day, she caused pain to my ankle because that area was hit by a stone one week ago. I did not cry out or even say a word, but I contracted my muscles and took a sharp breath. Surprisingly, the massagist immediately changed her touch from strong to soft so that the pain did not happen any more. Later, I realized that the training and experience they had allowed them to accurately read body signals and quickly make responses.
So, why did I spend so long to talk about Thai massage in a clinical blog?
This is because, during my clinical experience in Thailand, I realized that music therapy could be so similar to a massage.
Before having practicum with children in Thailand, communication was my biggest concern: I was never good at communicating with children, especially young children who could not understand English or Chinese at all. However, I totally changed my mind after working with a young girl in Sirindhorn hospital. In the beginning of the session, the client was very cooperative and engaged. She enjoyed music a lot and could often understand our directions when giving hand gestures and modeling. The only issue we were concerned was her right arm was not as functional as left arm; moreover, she seemed not willing to practice her right arm. In a drumming application, she could use her left arm to chase and play the drum very well, but when I put the mallet in her right hand, she stopped engaging and often wanted to change hands. I tried to make her keep using right arm, but still failed.
- If I’m facing an American child right now, I can use reinforcement to motivate her. But what can I do now?
It was my first thought at that moment, which made me a little bit upset. The session moved on to a parachute application. All therapists and her mother helped her move the parachute together. According to our original plan, client should go under the parachute while therapists and parents were holding the parachute up and play with peers. However, because of the language issue, she could not understand what we wanted her to do. We tried to model her to go under the parachute, but it was not very effective.
At that time, I suddenly saw a turtle toy that we brought to session. I picked it up and put it on my hand. Then, when the parachute was raised, I went under it and used the toy to touch her toes.
- She looked down and found the toy. She opened her eyes wide, and a big smile was showed on her face.
She liked it. Will this be a chance?
The idea came out without thinking too much. The parachute was raised again, and one more time, I touched her feet with the turtle. She giggled and tried to reach the turtle with her left hand. Then I knew the toy could be a great motivation for her. I picked up a bell stick and put it in her right hand. She looked confused and didn’t know what to do. I reached to her, made the turtle nod its head on the bell stick to make sound, and pulled it back. She watched what was happening. After a few times, she suddenly understood what she could do, and the magical moment happened - she moved her right arm, and knocked the bell on the turtle.
What happened after this changing point was amazing. My awesome teammates immediately responded and began to sing a turtle song to cooperate. I used the turtle to cue her move her right arm up and down and cross the midline. The session was expended at least 10 more minutes. Our little client kept playing with the toy using her right arm; she was so happy and so excited that she did not even feel tired. Just like magic happened, the problem that bothered us didn’t exist any more!
At the end of that session, I lay on the floor, and began to feel shameful about myself. How could I use the difficulty of verbal communication as an excuse to escape? I recalled what my supervisor told me before I had my very first session, “The only thing you need to remember is, when you enter the room, it’s all about them, and nothing about you. Then you’ll be fine.” I finally understood that. If I put all my focus on the clients, read their body, read their responses, be concerned about their needs … there is no way of not making a good session.
Question: Have you ever met a situation that language did not work at all? What did you do to communicate?

How was it?

I graduated high school in 2006, and then I lived in Israel for 9 months as a gap-year program. During my final month in Israel, I was troubled with the idea that, when asked about my trip, my innumerable experiences would be condensed into a few sentences (if not solely, “It was good.”). As the Thailand program was reaching its end, I assumed the same question/answer dilemma would arise upon my return. However, in my couple of weeks of digesting the experience, I have realized some very important principles that I got out of the experience; both from actual lessons provided by our instructor, as well as those from other external/internal foundations. From my review of my own experience, I have been more competent in my response to the aforementioned question.

Perspective: It is difficult for one to see everything from the inside, and Thailand offered me a great opportunity to adjudicate many aspects of my life. I was removed from my usual social connections, time obligations, and familiar sources of comfort as well as sources of anxiety. From this removal, I was able to understand parts of myself in their raw forms; how I deal with situations, levels of impulsivity, how I form and maintain friendships, my path of professionalism, among others. To divulge into this information would be lengthy, but there are a few specific concepts I would like to mention:

Judgment: On the first morning we were all provided a page of reading involving the concept of judging others. This sparked an idea inside of myself that I had not considered in some time, the idea that I need to mentally evolve as a human being and push aside unfair generalizations based on previous experiences and/or the opinions of others. This is much easier said than done, and it will continue to be a struggle. However, I know that I am on the right path of introspection on my immediate impressions of others.

Flavor: I loved the food in Thailand. I am now a much stronger eater when it comes to spicy food. More importantly, I realized how fun it is to be adventurous when in a new location. Trying new things, whether eating things that looked questionable (which was common) to climbing trees, to being beat up by an elephant (which totally happened) is a BLAST!

Don’t take anything personally: This concept was introduced to me directly before the program by one of my best friends from home, Hannah. She read a book called the four agreements and told me about one tenant within the book, “don’t take anything personally.” I figured that was nice and everything, but impossible. As we continued to discuss the concept, I realized how beneficial it would be to be able to listen to others’ opinions, even when presented unprofessionally or hurtfully, and understand that their message is not solely their opinion, but their opinion through the filters of their experience. These experiences could be known or unknown subjects, anything from being in a bad mood that day to having four professional degrees in the area being discussed.

I had a few situations during my time in Thailand in which I was presented with information, whether constructive or non-constructive, that I would have previously recognized as some level of hurtful. Through the course of the program (including a Skype conversation with Hannah in which I discussed the concept directly related to a situation) I was able to become progressively more successful in this concept; I also want to buy the book and learn more of the “agreements.”

“Stop making barriers”: An aspect upon which I would like to improve would be that I create barriers. What this means is that I find problems with a situation, a music therapy application, an experience, etc… that need not be considered as a problem. I am generally not a fan of “making excuses,” and perhaps that is why I make barriers; it’s an internal excuse disguised as an external problem. By not allowing barriers to get in the way of the big picture, I will be able to be a more successful professional, student, and friend.

Now, following my experience in Thailand, how do I answer the question, “How was it?”

“I learned a lot.”

Think about a time in your life that you returned from an experience to an audience of friends, family, etc. that had not been present for the experience itself. How did you answer their questions? If you were to answer the question “How was it” in the most concise yet true-to-experience way possible, what would it have been?

Finding the Balance of the Vessel

Hello, once again, blog readers and classmates! As a reintroduction, I am Melissa Hill and I am a senior studying music therapy and music education at the University of Kansas.

While in Thailand, our class had a handful of discussions that left me with a great deal to think about upon my return home. Many of these discussions were philosophically-based since we each come from different places and viewpoints in relation to music therapy and we are all in different places in our personal and professional development. But Dr. Register helped us begin thinking about some incredibly difficult questions—the kind that a life-altering experience such as studying abroad might inspire. For instance, we spent time as a group discussing our life goals and purposes and how we define ourselves. One of the philosophies that resonates with me most after our class discussions is one that relates to finding and maintaining the “balance of the vessel”. There can’t be a vessel that we keep pouring out of without ever replenishing; we, as therapists, cannot continuously “give” to others through our professional and personal support without taking some support and counseling in return. A lack of such balance could potentially lead to burn-out and career frustration. We even discussed how healthy it might be for therapists to seek help from other therapists. In my clinical experiences abroad, this discussion stayed with me and led me to try something new in my sessions that made a huge impact on how I feel while leading a session.

For those that were not with me in Thailand, I will describe part of my clinical experience in Thailand before returning to the philosophy mentioned above. On Tuesday mornings,our class headed to Sirindhorn Rehabilitation Center in Bangkok to see a group of individuals in an “adult day-care” setting. The group encompasses individuals who are recovering from neurological trauma—typically individuals affected by strokes. While Tuesday mornings in this area of Sirindhorn are typically reserved for the adults to play fun games and sports, we (myself, Rianne Matthews, and our Thai friend Karn) were invited to incorporate music into these activities. The rehabilitation group seemed overjoyed to have us visit their facility and appeared thrilled to hear us attempt Thai phrases and songs as well as singing some Western music. After watching a session recording, I noticed that I looked nervous and afraid of the language barrier. But I also noticed that my smiles to the group, as well as the smiles that I received back, communicated on their own. I always thought of music as the international language but I realized that smiles and laughter can have the same universality. I talked with a few classmates one day and we came to a general consensus that we would genuinely miss the groups that we were fortunate enough to work with in Thailand—maybe to an even greater extent than any of us have felt at home at the end of a practicum semester. But I still was not sure if the amount of emotional effort that I put into the session was matching the amount of feedback that I felt in return from the patients, despite that feedback was present; I was preoccupied with my failures and how my efforts might have been perceived by clients and caregivers.

After our class discussions, I started to think about how I could help myself maintain the “balance of the vessel”, or a healthy balance of giving and receiving. My conclusion was that I could simply try to accept and receive the smiles that were returned to me when I gave a smile. I tried realizing this and putting my theory into action—which worked wonders on how I felt after the session! Then I tried more; I approached some individuals after the session and talked to them about various things from music to America to reasons why I love Thailand. And the feedback that I received about the music therapy sessions and the discussions that were had proved to be yet more invaluable experiences of which I could be the recipient. I hope that the patients at Sirindhorn Rehabilitation Center will take something from our music therapy sessions together because I certainly took many things home with me, including precious memories of smiles and stories. This is how I found a healthy balance of giving and receiving during my clinical experience in Thailand, which is a philosophy and technique that I hope to bring back home.

The question I have for all blog readers is this: how will you maintain the balance of the vessel in your personal and professional life (how do you feel about therapists receiving therapy, what techniques have worked for you, how do you anticipate avoiding burnout, etc.)?

Lessons from Living Abroad

I think the term “studying abroad” is a little bit misguided. Yes, you are enrolled in classes and yes, you have assignments and deadlines, but the courses and books are not what truly teach you. Experiencing everyday life while walking the streets of Bangkok or buying from food vendors in Salaya, that was where the greatest learning took place. And the biggest lessons that came back with me across the wide expanse of the Pacific are the ones I literally picked up from the streets. I could list approximately two-dozen of these life lessons; lessons about time management, about balancing taking a lead and taking a step back, about appreciating differences, and the list goes on and on. But there are two learned lessons in particular that have taken effect immediately and consistently.

Melissa and I went to the night market in Chiang Rai and we watched as, around midnight, the vendors packed up their carts and tables. We observed people who had been trying, often unsuccessfully, to sell shirts or ties or watches to passersby for hours upon hours. They most likely received rude responses to their sales attempts throughout the evening as they stood in the 400% humidity that is persistent in the rainy season in Thailand. And as the complicated process of folding, packing, hauling, and folding some more continued, we wondered how soon they would be back to unfold, unpack, haul, and unfold some more. But as they finished up, they began to congregate. Someone arrived with beers and they sat around long after the packing of carts was finished. There was talking, laughing, sharing of food, and not a single face lacked a smile.

This impromptu “living abroad” experience gave me a massive piece of mental luggage for my trip back home. Why do I take myself so seriously? The pressure I put on myself to live up to something each day, something that I haven’t even really defined, is absurd. Each day cannot be earth shattering. And what defines something as earth shattering anyway? The vendors in Chiang Rai were living their lives of unpacking, selling, and repacking and history was most likely not being rewritten on that street corner, but they were happy. In Thailand it really hit me that nobody can save the world, and putting world-changing goals on your to-do list can do more harm than good. If you do what you love and if you’re happy, that’s earth shattering for you. And that’s what matters. And most likely, you will have a greater and more positive impact than if you keep “saving the world” on your bucket list.

This lesson entwines itself very tightly with another Pacific-traveling tidbit I now possess – living in the moment. Being in Thailand, this lesson hits you over the head about a hundred times a day. You planned to be at dinner at seven? Well Bangkok traffic is unbelievable and none of the taxi drivers want to take you all the way to the Mahidol campus. You planned a session for a group of preschool-aged children? Well you have a four year old and a ten year old so figure out how to include them both in your session. You planned to write down ideas for research or your philosophy statement while in Thailand? Well you barely found time to jot down what you did each day and a month passed like weeks usually do. Life has to be lived in the moment in Thailand, so why not live each moment happily? I find I often live in tunnel vision with only my plans and expectations in view. Thailand gave me peripherals, the ability to see and appreciate my surroundings in that moment. Of course you want to have aspirations and set yourself on a path to achieve them, but each moment on the way to that tunnel’s end is just as important as the moment you get there.

For these lessons I need to thank Dr. Register for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and the incredible and unwavering guidance. I need to thank my peers on the trip for their eye-opening perspectives and unconditional love. I need to thank all the Thais I interacted with for their graciousness and, often unwarranted, acceptance. And finally, my greatest thanks is to Thailand, the nation that stole all of our hearts and gave them back to us as something with a little more happiness, a little more acceptance, a little more love. Essentially, a little more Thai.

Every Day We Grow

Hi viewers! I am Sarah Novotney and am posting my last blog about our marvelous Thailand adventure. As many of you know, we are all back in the US now, adjusting to our American lives again. It has certainly taken some time not only getting used to the time difference, but simple things such as having to put on lotion again every day, remembering to actually have to drive places, and not being able to simply walk across the street to the 7/11 for a chocolate bar. However, I must say, my first day back it felt wonderful to have real toilet paper, a flushing toilet, a hot shower, mom’s food, water from the sink, and a squishy mattress! I really didn’t realize how often we drink out of the sink or use tons of toilet paper until I was faced with some differences in Thailand.
Although it is great to be home, it has been somewhat emotional and difficult at times. As much as I explain my experiences over in Thailand, no one lived through this with me for the past two months, and will sadly not know everything that had happened every day. I feel like I have grown as a person much more than I expected, and pictures and stories simply don’t explain that. I can show my family and friends pictures of the marvelous temples, of the huge bugs, or the tuk tuk’s, the Thai people, the street vendors, and the oceans we swam in, but I can’t explain all the knowledge, feelings, emotions, and friendships I acquired during those times. I honestly miss the Thai culture, the Wai, the Sawadee’s, the practicum’s with the elderly, the laughter surrounding every inch of my body, the questionable food, the strenuous hikes, and my friends. I think because every day in Thailand was such an adventure, it made life that much more exciting. Even finding a taxi, telling him where we were going, figuring out the cost, and maybe trying to engage in a few words of conversation broken up by nervous giggles was an adventure! But, it made that moment so much more exciting than what we could have experienced in a taxi ride here at home. I have learned to take in more opportunities in my life that I would normally think are exciting, but opt out on. For example, I went belly dancing with my mother last night, something I have always been interested in but never had the guts to get up and go do. But the opportunity was available, so why not experience it?
Another challenge and change on this trip was overcoming some fears that I have. From the moment my first plane departed from the United States, I have had re-occurring thoughts and dreams of myself dying. Still having these thoughts and dreams back home, I decided to mention it to my mother. She sent me an e-mail explaining what these thoughts meant by Kaine Anderson’s description saying,
“To dream of your own death, indicates a transitional phase in your life. You are becoming more enlightened or spiritual. Alternatively, you are trying desperately to escape the demands of your daily life. To dream that you die in your dream, symbolizes inner changes, transformation, self-discovery and positive development that is happening within you or in your life. Although such a dreams may bring about feelings of fear and anxiety, it is no cause for alarm and is often considered a positive symbol” (Anderson 1).
This response made me feel secure and excited for everything I have experienced and learned in Thailand. It reminded me of my “enlightening” experience on the top of Tiger Temple which triggered my consistent laugh every day after that. I realize now however, that being engulfed in a culture that is so different than what we are used to can really face a person with challenges and almost a different reality. I have learned as a person to be more patient, whether it is through a conversation, waiting for a meal at dinner, or even while driving behind a slower car. Time is constantly moving, so instead of being impatient during that time, try to enjoy the moment as it is.
In all, I believe Thailand has made me a more well-rounded person, presenting me with challenges, allowing me to meet different people around both the US and Thailand, that I normally would not have consistently hung out with, that have helped me grow with new opinions and beliefs, and have helped me find myself, pushing me in the direction I need to be going. I learned to never judge, that people and cultures can be so different from yourself or what you are comfortable with, but in all, every person and every place will have something marvelous to offer to you that you can learn from. I will never forget this adventure and I thank everyone that has come into my life in the last two months. There was a reason each of us received the opportunity go to Thailand and I hope everyone can share their stories as well.
Since this is my last blog I want to say thank you (kop khun kaa) readers for keeping up with all of our journeys, and if any of you have the opportunity to do something you think would be wonderful, my advice is to take it, because it will be more than worth it.
Sawade ka!

Life Is a Highway

Hi, my name is Rianne Matthews and I am a music therapy student from Colorado State University. I play the piccolo and my ambition is to work with music therapy in neuro-rehab. And – up until just a couple of years ago – I had a severe fear of driving.

It took me a long time to warm up to driving a car. Hurtling down highways would make me very nervous and even simple stop-lights could send me into fits of anxiety. It wasn’t until more recently that I was able to suck it up, put the keys in the ignition, and get going. Traveling to Thailand has brought me an even greater appreciation of American roads.

Pigs on a truck-bus

Most of us are used to traveling by car in the United States. Many of us keep our own personal motor vehicles ready to travel at any given moment. On the other hand, modes of transportation are much more varied and often you must leave things like departure time to chance. Odds are that if you are in a car it is a taxi that you must wave down. Otherwise, you may be in a van or a city bus or a local “bus” (essentially a truck with

a bench in the back, surrounded by a metal cage). Then there’s the motorbikes and mopeds, which travel in every open inch of road and often on sidewalks. Most unusual perhaps is the tuktuk, a form of taxi that is similar to a motorcycle.

Catching a ride on an open-air tuktuk

Not only are the forms of transportation varied, but you must also allow plenty of extra time as you cannot always dictate exactly when you leave. For example, Sara, Sarah and I were attempting to flag down a taxi one rainy afternoon after we had hopped off of the skytrain (yet another mode of transport). We had assumed that, due to the large number of people wanting to catch a ride from there, finding a taxi would be easy. It wasn’t as quick as we had hoped, though. We waited almost an hour before finally finding a cab that was available and that was willing to take us back to Salaya. I’m just glad we weren’t on a strict time schedule that day; we almost certainly would have been late for any concrete appointments that we could’ve had.

Working with varied modes of transportation has also brought to light the importance of being an informed traveler. If you need to get to the other side of Bangkok, for example, the Skytrain or the Underground may be much cheaper and quicker than hiring a taxi. Understanding prices can also be crucial. A group of us were near a very tourist-heavy part of Bangkok for lunch the other day and every taxi we found wanted more than 200 baht for a trip that shouldn’t have cost more than 50 baht. Having an understanding of what prices were normal was crucial in this instance. As it was, we had to overpay a tuktuk to get us where we wanted to go; he was the only one willing to go where we wanted to go without charging ridiculous fees or making an “extra stop” in which we agree to go to someone’s shop and in exchange the driver gets gas vouchers.

Aside from the modes of transportation, I can also appreciate better the relative sleepiness of American roads. Although there are some drivers who do not often follow traffic regulations, generally people keep to their lanes, look before they merge with traffic, wear seatbelts, and keep some distance in between themselves and the other vehicles. Thai roads seem to have all these things as general ideas rather than as actual rules. It is not at all uncommon to see someone halfway across the lane or move from one place to another on the highway without even a glance at a mirror or a touch of the blinker. Cars are often very close together and sudden stops are commonplace. The good news? I feel like even the toughest Denver traffic couldn’t phase me much now.

A tuktuk's-eye view of (mild) Bangkok traffic

Have you ever had an alarming experience with transportation while traveling?

Ring, Ring

Ask yourself: “Can I survive 12 hours without my cell phone?” Think about it… What about a day? A week? Five weeks?

Simply put, cell phones have, for many Americans, become integral to our daily functioning. According to CTIA – The Wireless Association, as of December of 2010 American’s have 302,859,674 wireless connections. Given that the population, as of the 2010 census, is 308,745,538, there is about 99/100 of a connection for every person in the USA. A source of security in travel, it has come to the point that many people feel uncomfortable to simply leave home without their cell phone. Not only a telephone, mobiles are multi-purpose computers; they act as game consoles, still/video cameras, e-mail systems, carriers of business and entertainment data, nodes of commerce, and, due to “apps,” seemingly unlimited other uses. This is not even including one of the largest uses of modern cell phones: text messaging. There is an estimated 187.7 billion text messages sent monthly in USA alone.

Let’s go back: “Can I survive 5 weeks without my cell phone?” For this blogger, the answer is yes!

As some background, I have been a Blackberry user for approx. the last three years, and use my phone to keep my life in order. My calendars are packed, my emails are almost primarily handled by smart phone, and my social life is always a text message away. I had every intention of renting a cell phone upon arrival in Bangkok, but I quickly realized that it would not be necessary. One by one, I learned the pros and cons of living in a cell-phone-free community of nine, in a totally different country:

Electronic communication (E-mail, Facebook, etc.): I often find that when I do electronic communication on my cell phone it can be rushed, shorthand, and not as well edited. The solution? Actually using my computer as my only source for text-based communication. As much as I use text-messaging, I find that it is (with exceptions) an inefficient form of communication, and I was happy to not deal with it for the duration of the trip.

Social Life: This was the most obvious difference between having and not having a cell phone. How does one make plans with others? How does one tell others when one is leaving, or arriving, or if something comes up? With only a handful of exceptions, not having a cell phone made everyone much more accountable; we made plans, and everyone made sure to stick to them. There was a situation in which a partner of mine and myself were about to do a presentation, realized (in the first minute of presenting) that we did not have the password for a computer, and the only way to get that password was to walk five minutes in each direction to ask for the password from the owner of the computer. This would have been a wonderful time to have mobile communication, however, another team member offered to make the trek, and everything worked out fine.

Schedule: I failed at this one. I learned very clearly that I need to have a calendar with me at all times if I am to know anything that is going on, any day of the week. Luckily, our schedules were very team-oriented, so I seldom (if ever) had to figure out where and when I was supposed to do something without the company of others.

I am assuming that most of our readers remember a time when cell phones were not in every pocket, or capable of what they are in 2011. What have we lost through the abundance of cell-phones? Is it worth the gains? Why is it that we remember surviving back then, but now it seems like if one lost their cell phone it would seem like the world was ending?

Balanced Risks

My name is Kim Davidson, I am going into my senior year at KU studying music therapy, and I have never been a risk-taker when it comes to safety. I take risks in other areas of my life, such as picking a college in a city where I didn’t know a single person for over 500 miles, but if something could cause bodily harm? Absolutely not. I can recall being seven years old and pointing out possible consequences of the semi-dangerous behavior of my fellow second graders. But I quickly learned that this precautious thinking is quite rare in Thailand. (Artists blowing glass without gloves or masks)

In America, we feel a need for control at all times and in all situations. So we make rules and fashion long lists of prohibitions, thus making our world more predictable and safe. We are so cautious that when an accident occurs, the exact protocol break is pinpointed and a lawsuit or new bill comes into play. The amount of control we crave and create in the United States is not a possibility in Thailand. In a developing country, safety codes are not at the top of the list of issues to be tackled. And the result? Less fear.

Surrounding every pool we visited was the slipperiest tile imaginable. We crossed bridge after bridge that lacked guardrails and were constructed of boards that felt as if a few more passengers would do them in. When we were in Krabi, one of the boatmen on our island tour would move about the outside of the boat while we sped through the water at max speeds. When we climbed 1,237 steps to the top of the Tiger Cave Temple, railings were scarce and some of the steps were almost two feet tall. Did we sign a single waiver? Not a one. Were there signs with phrases like “at your own risk” or “ we are not responsible?” If so, they went unnoticed, which completely counteracts their existence.

Is this lessened regard for safety a good thing? Arguably not. According to the Public Health Ministry, motorcycle accidents alone take the lives of 27 Thais and injure 438 more every single day. And approximately 80% of those involved in accidents are not wearing helmets. How many lives could be saved with stricter traffic laws, including seatbelt and helmet laws? Countless. But on the flip side, is the level of caution we have in the United States a good thing? Antibiotics are prescribed to children for the slightest of illnesses and a new lawsuit is filed in our nation every two seconds. There are so many rules that it’s difficult to live a life within them all.

(Rock climbers without helmets or spotters)

Both nations have their share of problems; there is absolutely no doubt about that. Simple regulations and standards could save the lives of many Thais and prevent horrible injuries. But the control we infuse into everything in the United States eliminates any level of risk-taking and spontaneity. I think we often forget to live in the moment for fear of the retribution of our actions down the road. Enjoying life should not take a backseat to planning and preparedness. The Thais seem to understand this, even if they have room for improvement in some other areas.

How do you feel about the difference in caution and control between the United States and other countries?

Ying and Yang

Hello, readers! I am Amanda Wiggans and I am from Macon, Missouri. I just finished my first year as a graduate equivalency student in Music Therapy at the University of Kansas.

A couple of weekends ago we traveled to the northern provinces of Thailand. We spent 2 nights in Chiang Rai, and 2 nights in Chiang Mai. Between sight-seeing at temples, meandering through the Queen Mother’s giant flower garden and elephant rides, the group was kept very busy the entire time.

On this trip we visited several interesting and unique temples. We were introduced to what I now know as my favorite temple that I’ve seen in Thailand; Wat Rong Khun or “The White Temple”. It was designed by Chalermchai Kositpipat. Construction began in 1997 and building is constantly ongoing. Wat Rong Khun is different from any other temple in Thailand, as it is designed in white color with some use of white glass and mirrors. The white color of the structure represents Buddha’s purity, and the white glass and mirrors stand for Buddha’s wisdom that is said to "shine brightly all over the Earth and the Universe."

The bridge leading to the temple represents the crossing over from the cycle of rebirth to the Abode of Buddha. A small semicircle before the bridge stands for the human world. The big circle with fangs and hands reaching upwards is a representation of the mouth of Rahu, meaning impurities in the mind. This area is a representation of hell or suffering.

All the paintings inside the temple have golden tones. The four walls, ceiling and floor contain paintings showing an escape from the defilements of temptation. On the roof, there are four kinds of animals representing earth, water, wind and fire. The elephant stands for the earth; the naga (snake) stands for water; the swan's wings represent wind; and the lion’s mane represents fire. On the walls on the temple at each side of the entrance are images that I was very surprised to see! There were painted scenes of the 9/11 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, battle scenes between George W. Bush and Osama bin Laden. There are also scenes from the Predator, Spiderman, Batman, Keanu Reeves character in the Matrix, covering the walls, as well as Avatar characters along side of other sci-fi images such as rocket ships and UFO’s. While these murals were initially strange to me, I soon began to understand what I was seeing. I believe that these paintings are significant because it portrays some of the famous battles that are significant to this era, whether it was an actual battle or cinematic portrayal, there are important lessons to be learned from both.

After we finished touring the White Temple, we set off to visit the Black House. Thawan Duchanee, who happens to be the mentor of the artist who designed and built the White Temple, built this structure. Though very different in actual structure, they are similar in that both artists have created very large, “living” works of art. Both artists are constantly building, constructing and adding to their works. The outside of the main hall is constructed of teak wood and is mostly painted black. The inside of the central building is decorated with several different animal skins, horns and skulls displayed on the walls and tables. There were also smaller, abstract structures on the property that was will filled with various black wooden statues and other exotic animal furs and bones. There was even a full elephant skeleton on display. To me, this place definitely had a darker feel than the white temple, but after seeing the both of these places back to back, oddly enough, it seemed to balance out. The White temple was more representational of a celestial experience and is more focused on anticipation of the afterlife. The Black House was more representational of the earthly world and is ground in day-to-day experiences.

After observing the similarities and differences between these two structures, I began to make transfers in my own life, and in music therapy. Experiences or even clients may appear to be one way, but upon closer inspection can be viewed at in a totally different light. Are things always black and white in your life? Is there a balance that you strive to achieve? Is there a time in your life when you realized that things aren’t always what they appeared to be?

Let the Music Work

Hi, my name is Amanda Wiggans and I am from Macon, MO. I just finished my first year as a graduate-equivalency student at the University of Kansas.

Last week was the start of the second full week of clinical practicum for us in Thailand. Though it may sound silly, looking back to the first week, we have greatly improved as a whole. Last Monday we sat in a weekly class meeting with Dr. Dena with wide eyes and frightened faces. She promised us that it would be okay, but I don’t think any of us fully trusted her until we actually got into the clinic with clients. My first session was last Wednesday at the Sirindhorn Rehabilitation Clinic in the Adult Day Care PT group. This group consisted of 10-15 older adults, usually accompanied by their caretakers. My group and I had an organized, tightly scheduled session ready to execute, but it was apparent that we would have to either cut applications short or adapt applications in order to fit the client’s needs. Applications are short musical interventions, which are used to achieve non-musical goals. For example, these interventions may include song writing to encourage self-expression, movement and music to improve muscle tone or endurance. This spontaneity combined with not knowing much Thai made us all very nervous and apprehensive about directly interacting with the clients. The session ended up being very successful and fun for the clients, but from the therapist point of view, we knew we very lacking in some areas. As a group, we were more focused on ourselves, executing applications and we were basically running around like chickens with our heads cut off. But what for? In retrospect, we realized that clients did not care if we sang a phrase a little flat or if an applications did not go quite as planned. They were simply happy we were there with them, engaging with them.

Later in the week I had another group session with a different adult group at the PT school on campus. For this session, we planned applications but left room for serious adaptations or changes to the musical interventions if need be. We also didn’t stress out about it as much and went into the session with a more relaxed point of view, ready to sincerely engage with clients and “go with the flow”. I individually interacted and assisted an elderly client during the whole session, which initially made me feel a little nervous. The client was able to speak English rather well, and was very happy that I came to sit with him. As soon as I sat down, my nerves faded, as did the need to use verbal language. For the first time since we had been doing sessions we let the music do the work. It was amazing to see how easy it was to facilitate a session when we allowed the music to do the work instead of us trying to make everything work in a way that we could control. Even the patients in the treatment room who were not participating in the session became very interested in what we were doing, and some patients even began to move to the music and sing along with us.

Looking back, I can see how important surrendering a certain amount of control can be in a music therapy session. Once we gave up preconceived notions and expectations and went with the flow, the music therapy session began to take shape in a much more relaxed and positive light. It became clear to us that non-verbal behaviors were as important as verbal ones, and that an important and valuable connection between the client and therapist can still be made. What is an area in your life where you think giving up control and expectations could work positively for you? How do you know the difference between being unprepared and going with the flow?

A Run-In With the King

Hey, my name is Daniel Goldschmidt. I am entering my final year of my music therapy undergraduate degree at the University of Kansas. I am originally from Minneapolis, MN, and I am interested in studying the growing connections between music therapy and music theory.

It is 7:30 AM. You just woke up to go for a run before your 9 AM class. You sleepily throw on a pair of black shorts and a yellowed v-neck, the groaning ceiling fan periodically reaching you in its circular oscillation (quite different than the stationary fans of America), persuading your hair sideways for a moment as you tie your Nikes.

You stash a 100-Baht bill, bearing the face of the king, in your waistband to buy some post-run breakfast across the highway from your hostel; you secure your room key inside your right pocket. You step out the door, a damp heat overcoming your body, and start running.

You bank westward at the main road, overtaking a crowd of undergraduate students in their black skirts and white button-up shirt uniform, and you accidentally drop your 100-Baht note. Be careful with your next few strides, as you do not want to commit lèse majesté; due to it bearing the face of the king, you can be arrested for stepping on the bill. Note in hand, you continue to run past a sports field as speakers begin to play Sansoen Phra Barami- The Royal Anthem. People solemnly stand for the duration of the anthem, and you awkwardly half-run half-walk deciding whether or not to join in (you observe some folks continuing to walk, so you keep running).

Twenty minutes into the humid workout, already drenched with perspiration, you curve onto the main road: home of breakfast. Breathlessly jogging up the flight of stairs to the bridge, you admire the decorations depicting the king and queen on a balcony, regally acknowledging the cars passing below. You see another overpass in the distance, solely a vignette of the king’s countenance illustrating its face. Reaching the next staircase, you descend, dodging two students sharing a brief meal, and spot your stop for breakfast: a petite local restaurant.

Lightly panting at the counter, you muster up a little Thai, along with your mastered form of international sign language, pointing, and order fruit with sticky rice. You glance above the teenager behind the register, again seeing the façades of the royal family on trading-card sized photos. Clutching breakfast with your right, the left meets it in front of your chest for a quick waai (bow), you diffidently say khop khun khrap (thank-you) and begin walking home. Between sweet bites, you consider the relationship this country has with the royal family, and how it compares to that of the US.

Here, one can be arrested for even speaking badly of anyone in the royal family; in the US we pride ourselves on “freedom of speech,” millions of dollars spent on t-shirts, websites, and bumper stickers bearing messages of disappointment regarding our political leaders. Preceding any film the screen indicates everyone should stand to honor the king, and a majestic arrangement of The Royal Anthem plays over a montage depicting the king’s various contributions to the country: cleaner energy, jobs for families, and many more. One can only joke about this being done in America; a screen depicting “Please stand and honor the president” followed by a video montage, to put it lightly, would displease many people (regardless of who is currently in office).

In my opinion, it is very nice having a people united by love for a politician and their country, regardless of the family’s involvement in various government positions or community cultures. However, of course, the beauty of one’s love for anything is the choice to love in the first place. Luckily, in my brief experience, the king of Thailand has made wonderful contributions to the country over his reign (since the 1940’s!) and deserves the respect he is given. What are your feelings on the power of patriotism? How would you feel about having a political leader that is the face of your nation, even though he rules mostly as a figure head?

English as an Only Language

In Thailand, my main cultural concern is my lack of Thai language skills. Lucky for me, I am able to survive in this country largely because Thai people know English.

Until coming to Thailand, going to school in the United States has comprised most of my academic experience. Despite a few visits to schools in Japan and Ireland, I have never before seriously endeavored to study at a school abroad. Among the many differences between Thailand and my home country, the key difference that has affected my experience has been language. In America we are taught how to read, write, and speak eloquently in English. In Thailand students learn how to read, write, and speak English and Thai. English is a requirement for all Thai students. It is considered the international “scholarly language.”

I feel lucky to be in a country where people frequently can speak and understand my native tongue because I only speak English fluently. I would like to blame this on my education, or lack thereof. In my public school system, my first memory of learning another language is a single monthly class in French and Spanish in fourth and fifth grade. Our teacher traveled from class to class with a cart holding her teaching materials. With this method, I learned hardly enough to say hello in both languages. In middle school, I did not take any language classes and in high school I took the maximum amount of classes one could take in foreign language, which was four semesters in Spanish. Spanish being our only option, I decided I would take the opportunity to learn some basic conversation skills. But after going into my AP Conversational Spanish exam with only a handful of classroom experiences in conversing, I failed the test miserably. I assumed I would attempt another language in college, but the language of music took over my life; I only took one semester in Italian language and culture. This class prepared me to order a coffee and ask for directions in Italian. So, what does one do with a little book learning in Spanish and a few conversational skills in Italian? Go to Thailand, of course! I have to admit: I am jealous of the Thais for being required to take another language in school until they are competent in it. So many opportunities for communication come from knowing two languages.

Even though my education is of a high quality, I often feel very ignorant and illiterate here. I do not know more than a few words in Thai, while most Thais with whom I speak know how to converse in English. The Thai people I have met seem to expect me to converse with them in English, yet they sincerely appreciate my attempts to speak in Thai. It is common to ask someone their name in Thai and receive the answer in English after a giggle. Apparently, the giggle means that they like that we are trying their language, and think our accent is funny. So far, I have had one compliment on my use of Thai. Once, after saying “sawadii-ka” to a shop vender, she asked me in English how long I had lived in Thailand and told me I had “natural pronunciation.” Sadly, I believe the shop vendor might have been trying to flatter me in order to make a sale; I can only wonder how far my Thai would come after an entire semester of being here. I have a hunch that, after being immersed in the culture, I could probably ace a conversational exam.

My wish, in the future of American education, is that children will be required to learn a second language starting at a young age. Perhaps at that point the American people can show the world that they are willing to reciprocate communication with other nations of the world.

What do you think about language barriers? How do you feel about language education in the United States and elsewhere in the world?

Hui (to the right), our guide, speaks fluent English as well as Thai.  Also, Bing (to the left) knows fluent English and Chinese. Being bilingual allows them to work with the many other people in the world who also know English, and make good friends along the way!

Do You Know How Important A Piece of Tissue Is?

Hello! My name is Bing Li, from mainland China. I am a music therapy student from KU and will enter my senior year this coming fall. I’ve been to Thailand during the first study abroad program in the winter of 2008, and this is my second time visiting this amazing land. As the only person in this group who has grown up in an Asian country, thankfully, I had less difficulty accepting the life style in Thailand. I’ve seen my peers talk about culture shock and life changes; here, I would also like to share an experience about adjusting and readjusting between western and eastern life styles.
My deepest thought about the difference between daily life is: in US, it is possible to go out with an empty pocket; but in Asian countries (I’m mainly talking about mainland China and Thailand), you’d better to be a Doraemon (a famous Japanese cartoon character; a robot cat with a magical pocket full of interesting tools) to prepare for all kinds of situations. The number one thing that I always put in my bag is tissues. As some of my peers described in previous blogs, restrooms in many Asian countries, including China, Thailand, Japan, and Korea, are quite different from western countries. In my hometown, western toilets are more common to be used privately in houses, but less common to be found in public facilities, especially restaurants and hospitals. We believe that it is not clean or healthy to share sitting toilets with other people; indeed, some people would even squat on a sitting toilet when squat toilets are not available in public restrooms. Even though I’ve been living in US for three years, I still have difficulty accepting sitting toilet and need to put a lot of tissue on the toilet seat when using a public restroom.
On the other hand, when I began to adjust to American life, I found that it was nice to have a good and clean sitting toilet with flushing water and toilet paper aside. One thing I felt a little bit awkward about this Thailand trip was that many toilets in rural areas have no water flush system. Many times, we had to scoop up water from a tub aside and flush all by ourselves after using a restroom. However, compared to the tissue problem, this is not a big deal. For some unknown reason, people would not prepare tissues in most public restrooms (unless in some fancy places); I’ve seen that a lot in both China and Thailand. More interesting, in some places, they will put a tissue case in the bathroom but with no tissues in it (for example, the Sirindhorn Rehabilitation Center where we’re currently doing practicum at). This is something I could not understand but could accept; because that was the environment I grew up in. However, after going to US, I forgot the habit of keeping some tissues in my pocket all the time. The cost of forgetting this habit was huge; after having experience of squatting on a toilet for thirty minutes to wait for someone coming in with toilet paper, I decided that tissues would be the most important thing in my life.

Question for all my readers: Is there anything that you don’t feel important in regular daily life, but might be painful to lose it in some particular situations?