Keepin’ It Real {The Price of Saving Face}

So, on a lighter note from my previous Help-Me-I-Might-Explode-Post, here’s a true account from my week . . .

Just a few days ago, I was crammed into a sawng-taw on my way home from Thai Language Class.  It was afternoon-tropics-hot. It was stop-and-go-after-school-traffic.  It was too-many-cars-and-motorbikes-fumes.  It was five-people-too-many-people-in-the-elevator.

And I was practicing my Thai with the lady whose knees were touching mine.  No, that is too generous a description.  Here’s a more literal sample of the conversation:

Lady:  lasdflasdg!?sdfgg??  have  asydglkdfgk!!@  is  @jlvirnsdgadsgl asdfjvbi!!@@jj ??fhkwo

Me:  {Smile.  Nod.  Raise eyebrows like I understand.  Hope there’s not a question that will require an actual response.}

Lady:  ??gjopwj  kkepg??ngekfg  child  gbsoo@?dh  knvkksnf  hot (or room?) bbsoiidjfls  right?

Me:  {Think} Yes.

Lots more smiles and stumbled words.  Finally, after 45 minutes, I know my time to push the stop-the-truck button is approaching, and my new friend asks me the name of my neighborhood.

And, like an idiot, I can’t for the life of me remember it.  I assure her that I will recognize it.  With confidence, I cover the fact that I though I can’t speak the place I live, I’ll be able to see it–despite the heads blocking my view and the fact that rice fields generally-speaking all look the same.

I glance up, and I see the familiar.  I panic and push the little stop-button-thing with gusto.  I act the clumsy American and trip out over the 18 pairs of feet between me and the back of the truck.  And my shoes hit pavement before I realize that I have no idea where I am.  Salvaging ego, I hand the driver the money, anyway.  I see my lady friend hanging out the side of the truck waving to me and saying, “oehbsoennggkshfg!!jgksg!” in Thai.  I wave back, and with her eager eyes still planted on me, I take the only logical course of action–I start walking down the nearest random street, keeping the appearance that my home was somewhere along it.

Of  course, when the truck drove out of sight, I immediately called my husband and baked in the heat by the highway until he and the kids could come pick me up.

Good to see that the trauma of culture shock hasn’t injured my pride too much.

Just keepin’ it real.

Tagged as: cross cultural living funny stories, culture shock, everyday Thai life, expat living, funny