Pit

"Pit" means spicy in Thai. When you hear that all the food here is spicy, it's not a joke or a common misbelief. It's the truth. Thai people can't imagine food without tablespoons of chili. IN fact, if the soup, rice, curry, fruit or anything else isn't mouthwateringly spicy, it's bland. Now, I like spicy food, so it's not a problem. But sometimes I miss the idea of subtlety. Nothing in Thailand is subtle. In the United States we think that Americans are the least tactful people in the world. I believed that anyplace else would be less brash and aggressive. Not so. In Thailand (although all the people are incredibly nice) everything is over the top. From the modern ruins of uncompleted skyscrapers in Bangkok, to the roar of motorcyclists everywhere, life itself is bigger than life. Even the weather follows this rule. If the sun isn't scorching hot and you aren't sweating buckets, you are in a torrential downpour larger than one you've ever seen in Oregon --and it rains alot in Oregon.
There isn't much variety in the food here. It's either thai, or chinese. It's either spicy or bland. I've gotten used to it and take it as normal. It didn't even occur to me to ask for food like pizza or sphagetti here. We eat a lot of sphagetti at my Dad's house. Angel hair or linguini is topped with pesto or a heavy tomato sauce laden with ground beef and bay leaves. So when my host father asked what I would be eating for dinner tonight if I was in America I simply answered, "Sphagetti."
The next thing I know, my host mother, father and I are driving in my host father's 1990 nissan truck to the only western restaurant in town. I'm touched by the gesture but the western food here is a far cry from what we had at home. I think I'll try to cook for them someday but getting the ingredients might be tough.
We arrive in the restaurant. "buffet, buffet!" My host mother tells me excitedly. In reality it is a conglobulation of decades old crockpots filled with sauces that I don't recognize, one with a sign that says sphagetti sauce. It looks like alphabet soup, without the alphabet letters. The noodles are overdone and sticking to each other. They are big and fat, like the whole wheat noodles that I would eat from time to time at the house of a vegan friend. I take some anyway because strangely enough, the idea of american food is still appealing. I heap some mashed potatoes onto my plate, some sphagetti and some of the so called sauce. Remember what I said about thai people not understanding the interplay of subtle flavors, textures and palettes together? It applies to mashed potatoes too. Part of the glory of mashed potatoes is the blandness. The absolute simplicity.
These mashed potatoes had little or no butter, no salt and tons of pepper. I ate them anyway and loved that they weren't my dream potatoes. But I was also wistful. "Is there salt in thailand?" "Have they ever had real mashed potatoes?"
After I finished my Mae (host mother) kept motioning for me to eat more. I went up and got a fried egg. It was actually pretty good-- although shaped like a flower with the yolk perfectly in the center. There was sausage too. I couldn't figure out what kind of meat the sausage was. Orange sausage is not something we have in the U.S. I decided that since I wasn't asking what was in anything else I ate (I'm pretty sure I ate some animal's intestine fried the other day) I took some sausage too. After eating it, I still have no idea what meat it was. It certainly wasn't tofu though.
The restaurant that I am sitting in is hardly more that a street stand. The crockpots and plates of salad sit on top of pepsi tablecloths. It is a strange dichotomy of east meets west. A poster for the temptations is stared at by a laughing buddha statue and the king, while I'm sitting eating my sphagetti with a pepsi watching the olympic boxing tournament in thai. My host father asks me how often I eat ice-cream in america. "every day?" he asks. I almost laugh. twice a month I tell him. He wants a quantitative answer, "Not often" isn't good enough. I'm asked if I was on a diet. I said no, that's just how I eat.
Americans are well loved here, but there are still stereotypes. Everyone in America must be fat. Everyone in America must be ugly. Everyone in America must like burgers and french fries. Everyone in America must be christian. When I say that I am not christian people guffaw. I try to explain that I'm jewish, but they don't know that word. I say from isreal and they gasp, "MUSLIM?"
"No, I'm not muslim." I finally give up and say Jewish, like with Hitler. They understand now. "You hate hitler?" Is my next question to answer.
"Chai." (yes) I say it with a smile though.

On saturday, I'm going shopping. I have friends here. Three groups of friends actually. There are the silly girls the grade below me that are all in love with my host brother, the silly girls in my grade that ask me if I have a boyfriend everyday and want pictures of the handsome white boys in America and the smart girls who study hard and want to travel. I'm shopping with the smart girls. I was asked to go somwhere today but I wasn't allowed to because I don't have a motorcycle helmet. All the students have motorcycles. You don't even need a license to drive one. Nobody wears helmets because with this heat, you'd die of sunstroke much faster than you would in an accident. Boo and Om said they'd bring their helmets next time for me to borrow.
I'm excited to try out the thai fashions. Those high waisted pants that everyone thought were stupid in the U.S. are very chic here. In fact, the newest style is a highwaisted mini-skirt with ruffles. Imagine it in orange or neon green. I'm going to have one hell of a wardrobe when I get back.
I'm signing off now, but send me an e-mail if you have any questions.