Few things are more relaxing than sitting on the bank of a river listening to its sound and watching as it constantly changes and renews itself. I took my last dip in the famous River Kwai this past week while on a field trip with my students from Wat Prok to the Children's Village School. It took me back to my first dip nearly 10 years ago.
On a Buddhist meditation retreat we were told that it is easy to comprehend the idea that when you jump into a river, the water you jump into is not the same as the water you leave, because we can see that the water doesn't stop. But we were challenged to comprehend the idea that even the 'I' that jumped into the river was different than the 'I' who climbed out. I am amazed at all of the changes that have occurred in my life and understanding from when I first jumped in to when I last climbed out. It isn't such a huge stretch to think that I really am not the same person anymore. So much has changed in me and my life and I'm grateful for it all, the joys as well as the failings and disappointments.
The first trip
I was full of excitement and enthusiasm, fresh out of Maryknoll orientation with a strong sense of call to serve God in service to my neighbor. My mind was fixed on going where I was needed, learning a new language and enjoying my immersion in the new and fascinating culture. I relished being a tourist even while not admitting that I was one and was happy to be led here and there by my Maryknoll companions. Ellen Cowhey and Fr. Mike Bassano were our great friends, holding our hands and guiding us as we soaked in the experience of the country.
The day Ellen took us out to the school was terrifically exciting. Big boats, small boats, inter provincial "VIP" buses, motor scooters, pickup trucks and flip flop shoes accompanied with bargaining, negotiating and convincing at each transition. I especially remember Ellen arguing with the boatman that we weren't tourists and didn't deserve to be charged the tourist rate. We wanted the commuter rate. Of course SHE wasn't a tourist, but it was pretty hard to convince them about us. We stood there dumbly smiling, wearing brightly colored shorts, caps and sunglasses, cameras at the ready and massive backpacks strapped on. Whether we admitted it or not, at that point we were definitely tourists. However, we ended up paying half the tourist rate- the discount for Ellen's excellent Thai.
Our first motor scooter ride was one to remember too. The scooter itself was somewhere between a motorcycle and a moped, but closer to a moped. I later learned that this type of motor scooter is generously referred to as a "family motorcycle". The driver, a Thai man, smaller than Cece, sat all the way up at the front of the seat with Cece's massive backpack between his legs. Cece was squished up against him and then I was left wearing another big backpack, balancing on the last bit of seat at the back. I graciously let Cece have the foot pegs placing significant and undesired stress on my sensitive parts. Crossing the train tracks was the worst! UghUgh! At one point during the relatively short, but painful trip, my flipflop nearly fell off so I cleverly placed my feet onto the pavement. My shoes slipped right back on my foot, but nearly tipped us all off of the bike. Live and learn, or rather if you live you might learn.
Really, just the trip there and back was enough of an adventure, but Cece and I loved the school. Thankfully, nearly four years later we would have the chance to live at "The Children's Village School" or Moo Baan Dek.
to be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment