Land of Smiles Dec.-Jan., 2004/05

What Just Happened?

Thailand – 70 degree weather, baggie pants, and ice cold smoothies. Wisconsin – below freezing, woolen coats, and snow. Within a days time I had crossed over, back into the world I had come from. Back to warm wood stoves, beds, flush toilets, and American food. The past month seemed like but a blip on the screen showing my life. Had it really happened? Was it all just some weird dream? But a day ago I had been surrounded by Thai speaking people, honking tuk tuks, and the smell of kefir leaves oozing from restaurant-lined streets. Only a few more days and I would be back in class, having already missed the first week and a half. It would be straight back to reading, writing, and studying, with no time left for anything else. Not even...

Recuperation…this aspect of my trip to Thailand has been an ongoing process and I just can’t seem to get back on track. I kept having dreams about being in a foreign country, one that looked remarkably similar to Thailand, and running into people I met at Punpun. I have been more than ready to put this experience behind me. To write this paper and let it all go so perhaps I could be “normal” again. And yet I knew there was no going back to the way life use to be. No matter what I did Thailand would always be there, somewhere, lurking – smiling faces, honking horns, pollution, baht, tourists.

Planes, Trains, and other such things…

Nothing seemed real as I boarded the plane for departure from Wisconsin. What was I doing anyways? Was I crazy? The fall semester at school had just ended and the residue of finals and papers was still thick upon my mind. Stress levels had yet to dwindle down and my nerves were on edge. And now the day had come to make the 30 + hour journey to my destination…alone. I'd already had the realization that I was not prepared, emotionally, mentally, or otherwise.

The day before leaving I ran around town gathering up the last of the supplies I thought I would need – batteries, journals, pens, and traveler’s checks. My mind was racing and I felt as though I had badly prepared for some examination. Quite honestly, I really didn’t want to go. I came to this conclusion about a month before it was time to leave and it only added to the stress of feeling the need to fulfill obligations. But it came down to the fact that I had already borrowed money for the trip and I had already made a big deal to my parents about how this trip would add greatly to my life experiences.

And so it was that I boarded the aircraft, having talked myself into going and trying to remain optimistic, thinking, “this is just the break I need, everything will work out fine.”

Sawasdee Ka Inn

The place obviously catered to foreigners – a basket of goodies on the table contained anything and everything a traveler to Thailand might need: one small can of Pringles, one large bottle of rum, one box of condoms, one pack of Marlboro cigarettes, one lighter, one toothbrush and toothpaste, and one phone card. I imagined the play of events. Traveler goes out with a bottle of rum, offering it to some random partner. They return to traveler’s room, wild sex ensues, followed by a cigarette and the munchies. The following morning, hung over, the traveler brushes their teeth to get rid of that stale taste of Thai rum combined with Pringles stuck to their tongue. Traveler proceeds to use the phone card to call their real partner back home and relate what a great time they’re having. I was coming to find out more and more that the cities of Thailand were playing into the foreign fantasy of the country.

Tourists…

Everybody had a mission, some great purpose, rhyme, or reason for being there. And of course it was the most important thing, something that nobody else had. It was unique to the individual. Sure everyone went there, but not one person would ever admit to being like “them.” Because they weren’t, really, they weren’t! I wasn’t like them. I certainly didn’t go to Thailand to be one of the tourists. I hadn’t been pulled in by the media to visit this great worldly attraction, right? Or had I? What were these people doing here besides being tourists? Did they have the same sense of purpose that I had felt justified my own presence in that foreign land?

We would all glance sideways at each other, or perhaps just ignore the fact that other foreigners were also there, which was difficult considering the city had more foreign faces than Thai it seemed. Each group had their own sort of way about them, each cohort loyal to its own and looking down upon the others. It’s no secret that individuals or groups may have had their own, different reasons for going there, and perhaps their own idea of what it would all be about, but there just seemed to be something about Thailand that had drawn them all in, put them all together in this country, far away from home, to fulfill their curiosities. But no one would speak of it. It was simply there, an underlying current of energy streaming through each body walking along the streets of Khao San Road or along Taipei Gate.

Sawasdee ka, hello, welcome to Thailand, we are all tourists here, including you, get over it and just go have a good time doing whatever it is you do, because this is the land of smiles, and none of the rest of us really give a shit. We are self-absorbed zombies, glued to our own sense of purpose, reaching for our own personal star. If you don’t have one, you better go find one, because no one is going to share their light with you, unless you plan to pay for it.

It was so easy to put down the tourists and to ignore the fact that I was one. I had my own little purpose. I was making a difference in the world while these people were taking advantage of the good people of Thailand, pushing their cultural limits to accept more and more of the outside world. And yet simply by being there, I was playing a part in that game. I actually felt somewhat guilty for having read The Beach and having seen the movie and wondered if any of these people had been drawn here by that story. Was everyone in Thailand looking for their own piece of paradise? “Was I a closet ethnographer, or a tourist doing ethnography?” (Bruner N.D.) [1]. I suppose there was a large group of us that were just dreamy fools trying to escape capitalism and yet perpetuating it by our very presence. Yes Thailand, we do love you, keep up the good work and we might come back someday, or better yet, it’s so cheap here, we might just stay!

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[1] “Both tourists and ethnographers travel to foreign areas, reside there temporarily, observe native peoples, and return with accounts and stories of their observations…From the perspective of ethnography, tourism is an illegitimate child, a disgraceful simplification, and an imposter (de Certeau 1984: 143), and we strive to distinguish ethnography from tourism, for tourism is an assault on our authority and privileged position as ethnographers (Bruner 1989: 440)” (Bruner N.D.).