That was my brother's favorite song when we were little. Well, it made him cry and he would listen to it over and over. Do you know it? Here is a clue: Celine Dion.
After I wrote that post about the silkworm a few days ago, more and more memories from that trip are coming back to me.
Before I tell you this, I should tell you something else. I am by no means a conversationalist. When I get put on the spot I freeze. Classic deer-in-the-headlights syndrome. If the other person can carry on a conversation (read: if the other person is normal, unlike myself) I can talk to them just fine.
Keep that in mind.
In Thailand, we were going into schools and teaching English lessons. Another thing to keep in mind, I get stage fright like no one's business. I could never, ever, ever be a real teacher. Standing in front of 25+ small people does not appeal to me. I would probably pass out daily.
I digress. Where was I?
Oh yes, Thailand, English, little people. Got it.
So we were teaching English. We partnered up with one other person from our group, and a small group of about 10 Thai kids. These kids were supposed to be in their third year of English lessons. The idea is that they would ask us questions about our culture in English, and we would ask them about theirs.
My group, collectively, knew one word.
It sounded like Noo-duh, and it took me a few odd hand motions and several repetitions to understand the word was noodle.
Noodle does not get you very far in a 30 minute English conversation. Not far at all! I mean really, it went something like this...
Noodle? (They raised their eyebrows so I assumed it was a question..who knows...maybe they were calling me a noodle.)
Um, yeah I like noodles, do you?
Uhh...Katie? Do you like noodles?
Katie is a girl I have been friends with since I was 5, and she is pretty darn shy too, she didn't say ONE WORD.
By this point I felt nauseous and was sweating up a storm. I tried just smiling and nodding. This has helped me before.
I think I went into some nonsensical ramble about macaroni at this point. It's not like my use of the Thai language could get me far.
By this point they were all looking at me quizzically, expecting something...I still don't know what.
After 30 excruciating minutes of the noodle debacle was over, but I will never look at pasta the same.
I feel like its judging me...waiting for my discourse on noodles of all sorts.