Tea Is Me
The name of my blog turned out to be prophetic. When I chose it, it was simply because I thought I'd be drinking a lot of tea in Asia, that drinking tea is a daily ritual for me (like blogging is SUPPOSED to be), and I would be in a place that was strange to me. Ergo, Strange Tea. Turns out, its damn hard to find a good cup of tea in Thailand. And it also turns out I suck at the daily blogging ritual. But the name is still perfect. Why? Because I am Strange Tea. Let me explain.
The first night I arrived at my teaching post in Isaan, I was taken out to dinner and introduced to several Thai English teachers. They had a very hard time pronouncing Taralynn, so my boss asked if I had a nickname. I hate the name Tara. And Tair is what my brother calls me, so I'm not spreading that around. But back in grad school some of my cohort called me T. I went with that. To which they replied giddily, "Cha-ah!" The Thai word for tea. Now, they call me Tea. So do my students. In English, yes, but they still take it to mean tea, not T.
And, while I at first felt at home in Thailand, now I feel like a stranger. At heart, I am a burner. I like neon colors and tie-dye, fishnet stockings and feather headdresses. I like loud music and dancing no matter who is watching. I like being naked. I like body paint, and face paint, and any kind of paint at all. I like laughing out loud at inappropriate times. I like people who are big, outgoing, uncommon, and larger than life. Thailand does not.
Thailand likes reserve. Thailand likes modesty. Thailand likes expectations and social mores and people who are demure. At least the small-town Thailand I am coming to know does. Which makes it a rather difficult place for me to be me. I wear demure and conservative clothes and colors. I speak softly to my coworkers. I don't drink or dance or smoke in public. I don't shout out loud or dance where everyone can see. Which means I feel a bit strange here all the time. And I'm pretty sure people think me a bit strange too because, no matter how much I try to cover up the Oregon-hippy-burner in me, it doesn't much like to be hidden.
Thailand also doesn't like women who drink in public. And even my balcony at home is pretty public, as my neighbors (and their school-age children) can see right in. So, naturally, I have turned into an old British woman drinking rum from a tea cup to disguise it. Strange tea, drunk by Strange Tea.
I'm not Taralynn anymore. At least not in the town I live in. I am Tea. Even to my western roommate, who calls me Tea. It amazes me how much I miss hearing my own name. Some days I don't feel like Taralynn at all. I want to, but instead I'm Tea. Foreigner, farang, teacher, stranger even to myself. So, that's me. Without intent. Without planning. I am Strange Tea.
The first night I arrived at my teaching post in Isaan, I was taken out to dinner and introduced to several Thai English teachers. They had a very hard time pronouncing Taralynn, so my boss asked if I had a nickname. I hate the name Tara. And Tair is what my brother calls me, so I'm not spreading that around. But back in grad school some of my cohort called me T. I went with that. To which they replied giddily, "Cha-ah!" The Thai word for tea. Now, they call me Tea. So do my students. In English, yes, but they still take it to mean tea, not T.
And, while I at first felt at home in Thailand, now I feel like a stranger. At heart, I am a burner. I like neon colors and tie-dye, fishnet stockings and feather headdresses. I like loud music and dancing no matter who is watching. I like being naked. I like body paint, and face paint, and any kind of paint at all. I like laughing out loud at inappropriate times. I like people who are big, outgoing, uncommon, and larger than life. Thailand does not.
Thailand likes reserve. Thailand likes modesty. Thailand likes expectations and social mores and people who are demure. At least the small-town Thailand I am coming to know does. Which makes it a rather difficult place for me to be me. I wear demure and conservative clothes and colors. I speak softly to my coworkers. I don't drink or dance or smoke in public. I don't shout out loud or dance where everyone can see. Which means I feel a bit strange here all the time. And I'm pretty sure people think me a bit strange too because, no matter how much I try to cover up the Oregon-hippy-burner in me, it doesn't much like to be hidden.
Thailand also doesn't like women who drink in public. And even my balcony at home is pretty public, as my neighbors (and their school-age children) can see right in. So, naturally, I have turned into an old British woman drinking rum from a tea cup to disguise it. Strange tea, drunk by Strange Tea.
I'm not Taralynn anymore. At least not in the town I live in. I am Tea. Even to my western roommate, who calls me Tea. It amazes me how much I miss hearing my own name. Some days I don't feel like Taralynn at all. I want to, but instead I'm Tea. Foreigner, farang, teacher, stranger even to myself. So, that's me. Without intent. Without planning. I am Strange Tea.
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