Kicking Culture Shock in the Face (that'll be the anger stage then)

Question: How helpful has it been for me to read that all of the following may have been symptoms of CULTURE SHOCK?

Moody melancholia, a desire to run for the hills flicking the Vs at the world behind me, weeping at a song that teaches my kids the alphabet, remembering with fondness my indie days, cringingly recalling my rave days, frantically checking Facebook status updates and Twitter posts - making sure I'm not missing out on anything, remembering with rose-tinted specs my house-shares in my 20s, swinging from mood to mood like a monkey on a chandelier, reminiscing times before the responsibility of kids - my kidulthood.

Answer: Well pretty damn helpful really.

I read about the stages of culture shock thanks to an email from Rebecca my stoic, loyal, hilarious, intrepid and trusted comrade since our teens. And I am relieved to read that like with grief, I'm going through a process so there appears to be some 'normal' in what feels like my 'crazy'.

In a nutshell there are 4 stages of Culture Shock: Wonder, Frustration, Depression and Acceptance

I can write about this now because I feel I am emerging for the first time and accepting Bangkok as my new psychedelic home. I am surrendered to it, but in a good way, like a willing 50 Shades of Grey way. I've thrown myself into my new life and brusied myself from the fall. I've been entirely self-critical throughout - 'I'm not parenting well enough here, I'm not supporting us financially for the first time ever, I'm failing to mix, I don't think anyone 'likes' me' - but now, I appear to be winning.

When we arrived I thought 'I'm going to take this opportunity and on behalf of everyone who's never been given this chance, I'm going to embrace it and become the best goddamn expat/stay at home parent/other Bangkok has EVER seen'. I blame my love of the sport movie genre and a slight addiction to inspirational quotes (watch me) for setting off at the pace I did. Mohammad Ali famously said "If I were a garbage man, I'd be the word's greatest garbage man". I over-apply this principle and soon run out of energy. I tried to be 'the best' in my first month, during my 'Wonder Stage', and the wonder stage was gooood, if a little frantic. Like the start of a new relationship where each other's flaws are 'so cute'. "James, look at the size of this apple, its huge, take a picture of me holding it", "waaaaah look at that 'stand up for a monk' sign on the train","OMG I just had the best massage ever", "lets eat Pad Thai everyday then go out and get matching tattoos" (we haven't...yet). The wonder stage was 'wonderful' for our enthusiasm knew no bounds, and Bangkok is brilliant for all its intensity.

I don't want to go on about the Depression stage, because it hit me hard and I'm worried writing about it might conjure it again. I'm not the type of person who says "Candyman" in the mirror several times just incase. However, lets just say I've been pretty low at times and its felt debilitating. Were it not for the support of James and my mates back home willing me on like an over competitive mum on Sport's Day, and my new mates sharing the roller coaster emotions and laughing in the face of culture shock, then maybe I'd still be feeling that way. I dread to think.

So what changed and why am I feeling ok? How - dare I say - am I feeling good? Well, it hasn't been by madly rushing to experience as much as I can in a short time, attempting to get to grips with everything as fast as I can, because this has left me feeling panicked, and more alienated. I must have looked like the cockroach that ran into my massage room and quickly scuttled in different directions til it found a hiding place (least relaxing massage ever). I think I've accepted that in a way I am the office 'new girl', and only time and the arrival of a newer girl will change that. There isn't an Alice in Wonderland remedy, although you might be able to buy one in Nana in the stall next to the dildos and viagra. The change has come with a bit of being kind to myself, seeing culture shock for what it is - a fucking shock to the system. 

The shock isn't so easy to recognise through symbols, of course its differences in language and culture and climate, but its not so easy to read when you're 'in it'. It seems to steadily build, and it appears to be a continuum so who knows if I'll sink again, and I'm sure I will. For me the shock hasn't been the fact that frozen crocodile is cheaper than most cheeses in the Big C, or that the supermarket shelves are packed with skin-whitening lotions while I'm hoping for a bit of a bronzey, nor is it that the woman at the til is often a ladyboy, because that just adds difference to my usual shopping trip and I love that ladyboys have 'real jobs' not just involvement with an exploitative sex industry, and as for the food  - people at home, you were right, it is divine.

Here I am a "farang", a person of European ancestry. I am Jenny foreigner, but a foreigner is just a person from a different place, right? It gets 'Frustrating' at times, and this is another stage, which can manifest in ANGER. I can be in an empty cafe with 8 employees behind the counter and still wait 30 minutes for my drink. I can be clearly trying to cross a busy street at a crossing with my kids and noone stops for me (zebra crossings are aesthetic not functional),  Patti can show signs to Thai people that she doesn't want them to touch her face, and still they touch her face and get upset when she growls and tries to bite them. The Chupa Chup lollies I buy to rot my kids teeth while pacifying them are impossible to open, the sky train terminals crash closed too soon and bruise my thighs. Darling, the condensation dripping from my martini cocktail is marking my silk blouson. Grrrr, you're damn right I'm angry <does angry monkey face>. Although this said, such is the vibe in Bangkok, I can't get angry about these things, everyone seems so passive - I'm hoping it will rub off.

Back to my question of why am I feeling ok nowadays? Well, a combination of things, the first being the love of my family. Secondly, I've returned to yoga - we've had a passive on/off relationship for 15 years. I found a really amazing place where on entering reception I feel instantly calmer, and although my first class was in Thai and I did the relaxation part with one eye open so as not to make a show of myself, you know, while everyone's doing downward facing dog, and I, as class "farang" am lying down. I actually managed to enjoy the class and not let Polly out of prison during any of the poses (Air high fives self). Thirdly, I've learnt a bit of Thai. I was able to have a conversation with a taxi driver whereby I expressed how difficult I was finding it to tell the time in Thai. The number one - "neung" is used for both one o'clock and seven o'clock depending on what other word you use with it. I know, its hard to explain, but I think he knew what this crazy half-pissed farang was on about. Learning the language eases the culture shock, its obvious really.

Then there are other things I'm finding helpful, like talking to Wandi about her family. This weekend is special for her as a new Buddha arrives at her temple, and hopefully one of these days I'll go and see where Wandi lives <pearl clutching time again>. I'm watching the odd Thai TV Drama (I may one day love it like I loved Prisoner Cell Block H (i.e. for its shitness). In the last Thai soap I watched I'm convinced the murderer was played by 'himself".

I'm taking it a little steadier, I've looked within myself (and on this occasion I don't mean exploring my vulva with a vanity mirror) I mean looking at me like a kind person would, like a Buddhist might, or a person on a purple ohm at the stone circle at Glastonbury, and generally sloooooooowwwwwwinnnnngggg dooooowwwwwwnnnnnnnn.What's the point of having amazing views if you don't stop to look at them?

So, I've kind of worked out that everything I need is here. I doubt I'll ever feel entirely at home here, but I can start to enjoy the differences. There will be times when my foreignness feels glaringly obvious (like standing for the King's National anthem at the cinema before the film and feeling like a  divvy).  As for my mood swings, let them swing, I am that chandelier riding monkey. I decided early on in my blog I'd measure my happiness by whether I'd bought a Fray Bentos pie and some of you may be interested to know I haven't yet. If I act a little crazy, or if I upset anyone, I am sorry, but Culture Shock is going to be my excuse for everything  these days. 

Where the hell have I been? oooohhhhhmmmm-my god.

It is the ridiculousness of a walk home that has inspired this post. My farewell to Mr James, who has  accompanied me with his camera on my Bangkok adventures and daily struggles. A chapter has ended and a new one will begin. I have turned a corner - literally and metaphorically, and entered the next phase of the 'culture shock process'.

Mr James, my cameraman/director/therapist/friend, not necessarily in that order, has returned to his loving family, his Jammy Patch and their gain is our loss, but a happy one, 'a bientot', 'so long', 'we'll meet again'. Oh God, if I start singing Vera Lynn songs on the way home from 'women-drink-for-free' nights, by all means mow me down with a tuk tuk.

We had a farewell drink in a little bar at the corner of the street, where you can choose the tunes from Youtube, and if you're a male not interested in 'company' you're left alone, otherwise there are gyrating possibilities of the gangsta rap video - ilk. After a couple of beers, a summary of our journeys and the making of the show, and a few belly laughs with Billy - another contributor to Brits in Bangkok and ace cheeky cockney company - I exchange my farewell letter for the contents of Mr J's fridge - he had to go home, man cannot live by peanut butter and tea alone.

I did well not to cry (too much) though Uma, Mr James's fixer and super cool, gorgeous Thai font of knowledge was shocked at my tears. She's only met me a few times, once at an HIV/AIDS temple and I wept there too. On this occasion I was crying at yet another goodbye. I'm sure soon I'll be a pro at goodbyes, hardened by the frequency of goodbye hugs. I felt a bit like I'd had my stabilisers taken off my bike, and Mr James having given me a good push-start has let go, and I'm on my own again, pedalling like mad, excited about the ride ahead but scared of falling off my bike and scuffing my chin.

I cried for a whole street, the rain mingling with my tears, not like Andy McDowall in 4 Weddings "Is it raining? I hadn't noticed"...piss off...but more Julian Lennon, "Salt Water Wells in my eyes". I am laughing at my dated uncool references. It rained, I got wet. I don't have an umbrella, I just lose them, even the one I 'accidentally'  stole from Habitat when pregnant with Patti (I still feel responsible for their going into liquidation). But I had a sudden realisation, a moment of clarity, because things have started getting easier for me you see. I'm not shouting at the kids anywhere near as much, we're having daily laughs and park adventures, they seem to want to dance with me (although I was a tad disappointed that the kid's reaction to Inner City Life played on the boom box during a recent storm didn't get a better response than "turn it off mum, its too loud"). I'm excited about being here, I'm doing yoga (in Thai), I'm contemplating joining in with the nightly aerobics in the park (its 20p!) and I have a bunch of new mates that seem totally cool.

The filming came to a natural and positive ending and I didn't weep in my final interview, though I'll probably weep with embarrassment if I ever watch it (I'm toying with the idea of never seeing it. Someone once said to me that the meaning of life was planting a tree and never seeing it grow, but just to bastardise one guru's enlightened quote, my interpretation is 'make a documentary for channel 5 and never see it shown).

Back to my walk home and turning my frown upside down - I felt free. I had a moment. I could see clearly. A piano could've fallen from the sky behind me and I wouldn't have turned to see it.  I walked forwards,  past a ladyboy wearing an ill-fitting peach twin-set; perfect make-up. I passed a row of motor-cycle taxi drivers with carrier bags on their heads chowing down on street food, seated on low plastic chairs, the kind you get on the street outside pound-shops in Manchester. I passed a woman having her photograph taken on the steps of a shopping mall, posing with the illuminated design in the window whilst getting drenched. I passed the sign on the building site reading "You Dream it we Build it" (they've obviously never shared my Stephen King style nightmares). I started thinking about how rich life is for its mix, its randomness, its colour and craziness, about how if you're open to the universe anything can happen. In my life I've met some amazing people, fallen in love with friends while seeing the world, I'm a lucky bitch, I really am (onus on 'lucky' not 'bitch').

Our last day of filming was spent at The Golden Mount, other filming has occurred which I haven't written about, but I don't know whether I can blog about it, or whether I need to wait until I can make good of it first. I have visited a remote women's refuge and an HIV/AIDS temple to find my place in the world, where I can give back to my new society, but I don't know what my role will be. I've had company with this soul search, and I've seen things and met people I never would had I not been filming for telly. I talked to a Thai woman at the refuge, she studied in Stockport where I've worked for years at several refuges. Random brilliance! I met a ladyboy called Nan, and chatted about his life, in a gazebo amongst the trees. These memories are preserved in my mind and I hope to share more of them and write write write.

At the Golden Mount we met our new mates on the roof where a whopping great golden bell sits cordoned off by rope, which Patti and Abe saw as a challenge and clambered over, getting told off by a monk - not everyone can say they've been told off by a monk can they? You see, I knew we needed to give them life-experience, though that wasn't quite what I had in mind. We met our mates and their kids and we shared the moment. And, so that Mr James could get a few shots of the city for telly, we were allowed to be up there for a bit on our own. We had access to gongs, to wind chimes, to the view of the city, to the expanding cloudy sky, to the end of the day, to the peace to be had at the top of a mount. I could've had a proper moment there, and I think I'll return to take that moment because with Patti and Abe breaking the rules, it kind of harshed my mellow. Though that moment, I wouldn't have wanted any other way. 

I meant what I said though, on camera, I feel hopeful, and I hope I'm not narrated as some moaning 'trailing spouse' (I can't even believe that term still exists). I've taken a gamble, seized an opportunity in moving here and in contributing towards the film. The final cut is out of my hands but its been a blast, and without it my time here may have provided me with the space to contemplate my new life. I've seen so much beauty in such a short time, felt the power of people, the power of love, the power of the universe. I'll be taking more walks in the rain if they're this evocative. 

It's going to be hard not to let this experience turn me into an urban hippyy! Now where's my conch shell, I want to get some practice in before yoga - oooohhhhhhhmmmmmmmm(mygodmyidentitysearchcontinues).