ภาษาไทยเรียนไปทำไม?

I first became interested in going to Thailand when I was living in Taiwan in 2007. Some of my fellow English teachers had traveled to Thailand and came back absolutely glowing, raving on about how wonderful it is. How beautiful it is, how good the food is, how nice the people are. They were so enthusiastic about it that it made me want to go myself. Even after that, I continued to meet people who sang praises of the "land of smiles", as it's called. Apparently there's something about Thailand that draws people to it.

So I decided that I would definitely visit Thailand one day. And about a year and a half ago, just for fun really, I decided to try learning a few basic phrases in Thai. Little did I know that I would fall completely in love with the language and end up studying it seriously. I learned the alphabet, and started trying to read it, and I just kept going. I didn't really know why I was learning Thai. I had no immediate practical use for it. But I just couldn't stop. I guess it was meant to be, because I've kept up my study of Thai to this day (admittedly with a few breaks along the way), and I've reached what I'd call a solid intermediate level. (I've been spending a lot of time watching Disney movies dubbed in Thai, among other things.) =D I'm pretty sure I can have a basic conversation and understand at least the gist of what people say.

Now I'll finally get to try it out for real, because I'm leaving for Thailand on August 2nd and will be staying for two weeks. I plan on exploring Bangkok and volunteering at an elephant park in Chiangmai. (I've always wanted to meet an elephant!) Other than that, I don't have any specific plans. I prefer to go with the flow and figure things out when I get there.

I bet someone is thinking, though, "You're so weird, Jana. Why on earth would you learn Thai?" The only reason you might really need it is if you were going to live in Thailand. (Though you could argue otherwise, considering that some people actually live in a foreign country for years and never learn to speak the language!) Knowing Thai isn't really necessary if you're just going to travel (though obviously it would help). None of the people I know who traveled to Thailand could speak a word of it beyond simple greetings. Thai isn't a major world language or the language of an economically advanced country, so it wouldn't give you much of an advantage career-wise. There aren't many Thais living abroad either, and those who are probably speak the local language. Practically speaking, it just doesn't seem to make sense.

But honestly, I've never been a fan of doing things just because they're practical. "Practical" is a word for people who are comfortable keeping things just the way they are and staying on the path everyone else expects them to take, and who never feel the need to do anything different. But I want different. I need different. Forget practical. Practical makes me bored out of my mind!

Really, the same person who asks why anyone would learn Thai might just as well ask, "Why did you bother to learn Japanese, anyway?" Japanese may seem more "practical" than Thai, but it's not that much different if you think about it. I grew up in a small town in the United States. There were no Japanese people around me, or at least none who weren't completely Americanized. I had no interest in going into business in the automobile or technology industry, or any other field in which Japanese might be particularly useful. I didn't even want to teach English in Japan, really (though I ended up doing so anyway as a means of coming here). I didn't "need" to know Japanese at all. There are a million other paths I could have taken, many of which society would see as more practical choices.

But I wanted to know Japanese. I didn't need a reason. I never asked myself why-- it just made sense. I wanted to know Japanese so badly that I just had to learn it. And so I just did. Then I came to Japan, and I made Japanese a part of my life, a part of my very soul. By doing so, I made it "practical" for myself in every way that matters. And I don't regret it one little bit.

Though to this day, people still ask me why I learned Japanese or why I wanted to come to Japan, and I still have trouble answering that question. People expect me to say that I like anime or Japanese food or karate. I mean, sure, I do like those things. But none of them are the reason why I learned Japanese. There is no reason.

I think people these days are too hung up on finding a reason for everything. They're too hung up on so-called practicality. If you tell them there's no reason, they get lost and confused. But let me tell you something. (shh, it's a secret!) You don't have to do something because you can make money from it. Or because your parents want you to do it. Or because your boyfriend/ girlfriend wants you to. Or because anyone wants you to. Or because it will make you look good. You only have to do something when you want it more than anything, because you know it will make you happy. And if you're happy and fulfilled doing something you love, you'll be contributing to the good of the world in the best way you know how. Don't ask yourself why-- just do it. It will make sense eventually.

Summertime

For the past couple of months I've been participating in something called the "travel forum". It's basically just a bunch of people who like to travel and meet once a month to talk about it. They have panelists who talk about their experiences and share pictures and such, and everyone else listens and can ask questions afterwards. When it's all over, those who want to go out for drinks and conversation.

I've only gone twice so far, but it's been a lot of fun and I've met some really cool, like-minded people. They've also held some other random events and get-togethers, one of which was last night. We basically just all gathered at a restaurant serving different kinds of ethnic food. I saw lots of people I'd met before and some new faces, too.

One of the girls who went was kind enough to lend me her yukata, which is like the lighter summer version of a kimono. I say "lighter" because an actual kimono has more layers and is much more complicated, but even so, a yukata isn't exactly comfortable. There are several pieces to it that are rather difficult to put on correctly (my friend helped me put it on-- most people can't do it themselves), the fabric is scratchy and rubs against your legs in a way that makes it difficult to walk, and it's really too hot for Japan's sweltering summers. Even so, it's considered a trademark of summer and you can always see a few girls (and sometimes guys) wearing them this time of year, with a fan tucked into the back of their obi (the belt-like part around the torso), probably on their way to some sort of festival or firework show.

So it wasn't comfortable (probably largely because I just wasn't used to it), but still, it was fun to try wearing it and I got a lot of compliments from people saying it looked good on me. =D


(Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I chopped all my hair off. I think I like it this way though!)


The guy in the middle had just arrived in Japan and didn't know how to use chopsticks, so we were trying to teach him. He learned pretty quickly though!


Haha... Fail shot! XD


And this one turned out really blurry. =/ Oh well. It was a fun night!

Next month they're going to get together at a firework show, which unfortunately I can't go to-- because I'll be in Thailand at the time. =O I'm taking advantage of the gloriously long summer vacation I get as a school teacher and going to Thailand for two weeks! I'm really excited about this, because I've wanted to visit Thailand for a long time now. That's for the next post, though!

Finally, I'd like to end this post with a couple of "Engrish" signs I discovered around Yokohama this past week.


Sorry the picture isn't very good, but it says "The coffee of an Italian tomato is very delicious. Please relax on the inside of a shop carried out calmly. Don't you take breath, either?"


What on earth is "in Haenza"? (It's actually supposed to be "influenza".) It's like someone just took a guess at how it might be spelled in English, and failed miserably. XD

Anyway, that's all I have for today. Next time, Thailand!

I'm back!

"Adventures of the Directionally Challenged" started on Xanga back in 2005. I started it as a way to share my travels and other exploits with my far-away family and friends. Before long, it also became a place to vent as I struggled with loneliness, low self-esteem, and depression. I continued writing until February 2008, during which time I traveled to Russia to visit a friend, studied in China for three months, finished my college studies in Michigan, was a counselor at a summer camp in my hometown (Centralia, Washington), taught English in Taiwan for a year, and worked as a cashier at a Quiznos restaurant in my hometown for six months. Then, all of a sudden, just as I was about to leave for Japan, the place I had always dreamed of living in, I just stopped writing.

There were a few reasons for this. Part of it was because I thought I had finally gotten to the end of my proverbial road. I was living in Japan, just like I had always wanted. I wasn't "lost" anymore, and thus the title of the blog seemed void. I even had a boyfriend, and everyone at home was happy for me. I should have been happy. Right?

Indeed, there were lots of good things about the two years I spent in Gunma, the so-called "belly button of Japan". After all, I wouldn't have decided to stay for a second year if I were completely miserable.


(See? Smack-dab in the middle.)

I had a job I enjoyed...







And I worked with some really cool people.



I had a nice apartment in a nice, peaceful neighborhood...





I rode my bicycle to work every day, which was wonderful in the spring and fall (but not so much in winter!), I could wander around alone in the middle of the night without worrying for my safety, I had nice schedule with plenty of time off each week to pursue my interests, and I got to use Japanese all the time (I became practically native). Looking back on some of the good memories almost makes me wish I would have stayed.

But there was a darker side to the picture, too. My relationship with the above-mentioned boyfriend was extremely unhealthy. Another part of the reason I stopped blogging was because I was so consumed by that relationship, I hardly had the energy to think about anything else, much less write about it. He wasn't a bad guy, but his good intentions just kind of backfired and ended up making things worse. It's a long story, but basically the relationship had a very negative effect on my self-esteem. Deep down, I knew from the beginning that something wasn't right and it wasn't going to work... But I couldn't walk away because I was too afraid of being lonely. The crazy thing is, though, I was far lonelier while I was in that relationship than I am now as a single person. Loneliness is a strange thing.

As my second year in Gunma was coming to an end, and after I finally mustered the courage to put an end to that relationship, a very strange feeling started to creep up on me. This feeling was so unexpected that I tried to deny it at first, but it seemed that, unbelievably, I was getting tired of Japan. Me, who had known I wanted to live here since I was twelve. Me, who was told by all my Japanese friends that I was more Japanese than they were. Me, who had never felt like I belonged in the states. For years I'd been convinced that I would live here for the rest of my life, but all of a sudden I found myself wanting to leave. The feeling itself was familiar. The best way I can describe it is as extreme restlessness. Like I'll just die of unbearable boredom if I can't get away from this place right this minute. I had felt it before, back in the US. I'd just never expected to feel it here.

Then the wheels started turning a million miles a minute. I thought about taking a year off to travel the world. I thought about going to teach English in another, completely different country, like Russia or Egypt or Korea. I thought about applying to be an au pair in France. Or joining the peace corps.

Then I slowed down, and I got scared. What if I ran out of money? What if I couldn't find a job in another country? What if I ended up getting stuck teaching English for the rest of my life and hated it? What if I ended up feeling terribly homesick for Japan, after all? What if, what if, what if. The idea that "Japan is where I belong" had been so deeply entrenched in me for so long that it was just too scary to throw it out.

So I sucked it up. I went back to America to see my family for a couple of weeks (and I did visit my friend Alyona in Azerbaijan, an interesting trip which I'll have to write about later), and then I came back to Japan. I told myself that maybe if I moved to a big city, it would be exciting enough to scratch my itch for adventure. So I aimed for Tokyo, and ended up in Yokohama, which is almost just as good. (Yokohama is pretty big and lively itself, and is only about 30 minutes away from Tokyo's central districts.) So here I am, living in a share house with six other people and teaching English at a girls' high school.

I have to admit, at first I was kind of miserable. I knew I had made a big mistake coming back. I hated my job, and I wanted to leave Japan more than ever. The fact was, though, that I was stuck, mostly because I simply couldn't afford to leave. I had spent too much money on plane tickets, and shipping things back and forth-- and I still had to make payments on my student loans. I felt hopeless.

Then somehow, things got better. Through a few very fortunate positive influences, I began to realize that there is nothing wrong with me. I truly did fall in love with Japan at twelve years old, I got a lot of good things out of it and now I have many fond memories in this beautiful country that's sure to be a part of me, in some way, for the rest of my life. But maybe I just got what I needed here, whatever it was, and now I'm ready to move on. And that's okay. It sounds simple, but it was a huge revelation for me.

I also learned to see my job in a different light. Teaching English may not be something I'm incredibly passionate about, but it's something I can do reasonably well without too much effort (I've been doing it for three years, after all). The people I work with are pleasant. And when I'm not teaching classes, I actually have lots of free time at work during which I can read books or study languages (what I love to do most in the world). I get lots of vacation time, too-- and I get paid for it! What was I complaining about?

Besides, the thought that this will in all likelihood be my last year in Japan sort of makes me treasure my time here more than I would otherwise. I want to make the most of it, so I can leave without any regrets. (I remember spending a whole depressing year in Taiwan, then spending one amazing week traveling around the country and thinking, "If only I had gotten out and done something instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I might have fallen in love with this place.") I want to do all the things I know I'll wish I would have done if I leave without doing them. And to write them down so I won't forget.

And I'm going to post those things here because I've finally realized and learned to acknowledge, for the first time in my life, that I am an interesting person, I have an interesting life, and I have interesting things to say. And it would really be a waste not to share it.