Going the Distance
Our limited article series, PST 137, features writers who just experienced three months of Pre Service Training in Don Chedi, Thailand.
Olivia Fee, 137 TESS
I sat at my desk one night in late November 2025, the penultimate month before my departure to Thailand. The falling snow outside contrasted the tropical temperatures I would soon experience in my new home. I considered the question on the onboarding survey in front of me: What is the maximum distance you are comfortable biking every day? I pictured myself commuting to the Tessaban training center in Suphanburi. Less than 3 miles? Up to 6 miles? More than 6 miles? I selected the second-highest option. I’m normally a fit person, but, for my own comfort, I didn’t see a reason to select the highest one.
It wasn’t until I talked to Becket on the phone later that I reconsidered. We were going to serve together as a couple, and he reported that he chose the highest one. I was unsure about this until he dutifully reminded me that we were not “Posh Corps”. We find that avoiding the “posh” stereotype is often enough motivation to embrace the discomfort—whether that is an unconventional food to try, a bathroom routine to practice, or, in this case, the prospect of the longest possible bike ride to and from training every day. Funnily enough, this was a sufficient reason to go back to the survey and select the highest option.
Fast-forward to Pre Service Training (PST). These two months were a unique combination of adventure, intense emotions, and adjusting to a major life change. The biking, heat, and technical training and Thai language sessions every day from 8:00am-4:30pm often culminated in physical and mental exhaustion. It was constantly rewarding, though, to see my progress and build relationships with the amazing PC Thailand staff and fellow trainees, who were strangers at the San Francisco International Airport not too long ago. Weekends spent exploring the community with friends or Friday afternoons at Pang Pang’s Cafe made us trainees blissfully forgetful of our impending isolation at site.
When I think about PST, I believe the best part of my experience was my host family. Their house was indeed one of the furthest commutes; they lived on the outskirts of the community, just over six miles away from the Tessaban. We had a mom, a dad, a younger brother, and two grandparents. The first few days at home were marked by a lot of silence—a result of our inability to communicate as well as we wanted to. My host mom, in an effort to connect with us, spent the first night pointing to objects around the kitchen and teaching us their Thai names. We repeated the words for bowl, plate, fork, and spoon and later gave our new family the gifts we brought from the US. A good start!
It didn’t take long for Becket and I to grow close with our host parents, with whom we spent the most time. They loved to go all-out on showing us traditional Thai cuisine because they make and sell food for a living. My host dad, being the chef of the family, made everything from Thai curries and rice dishes to noodles and fried chicken. He took great pride in the presentation, garnishing each plate with a purple flower. One morning, I awoke to find that he had made an entire stack of beautifully crafted burgers, which my host mom packed for us to take to training. This surprise came less than twelve hours after mentioning that I missed American burgers.
In the next few months, the four of us would try our hands at winning prizes at the local festival, eat ice cream together after an outing at the Celestial Dragon Village, observe a gambling game after a funeral, deliver orders together after the Chinese New Year, and spend hours looking through their family photo albums. We played cards, volleyball, and badminton, spent evenings after dinner listening to my host dad’s bizarre choice of American AI country music, and, through it all, learned about each other’s cultures.
These moments of quality time during PST—from the day-long excursions to the smaller ones spent talking at the dinner table—made it feel as if six months had passed rather than two. They truly became my Thai family. Now that I am at my permanent site, I think back to that time in November and wonder: how might my experience have been different had I opted to live less than six miles away from the Tessaban? Something that seemed trivial at the time now carries an entirely different weight. I have come to see this as a lesson applying to the life of a Peace Corps Volunteer: the best, most fulfilling services aren’t achieved through being picky. In fact, it is better to embrace the unknown, in all its multitude, and live with whatever that comes with. After all, I’m not Posh Corps!
