Vacation, all I ever wanted

Whew! Been a while! Sorry. We went on vacation for a week*, then came right back into the whirlwind of school. But now, it’s Term 2. This is the deadline I set for myself to get it together. I think I’m there, in the upswing of adjustment. I have a rough outline of what I’ll be teaching this term and I’m settling into a groove in terms of bureaucratic requirements, home responsibilities and self-care (i.e., shaving my legs was a challenge).

I also think I’ve learned enough to feel comfortable here, more or less. It’s still slightly awkward when, say, I’m at the mall and I walk past a group of young employees in a store and they stop their conversation as I pass. They’re polite, of course. But I stick out. I’m a foreigner, a farang, and an unfashionable middle-aged one at that. Silver lining? My middle age allows me to not care. Wheeee, 40s!! But my point is—I’ve figured out enough so that I’m not in a constant state of semi-panic all the time. I actually know my own phone number and many back roads around town. I found a great hairstylist, and the old woman at the fruit market with the black teeth knows me. The hard-way lessons are gradually getting fewer and less frequent. 

This being Term 2, the line I drew for myself in the sand, I’ve been quietly starting to work on my health. In just one week of not drinking, and paying attention to my portion sizes and eating speed (yeah, it’s a thing… a shameful thing), I dropped four pounds of bloat. Of course I’ve fallen off the wagon again, but it's a start. I am partly motivated by fashion. I have hardly any clothes—I wear the same five outfits every week—and I want to go to Bangkok to shop. But I don’t want to ask if they have bigger sizes in the back, and I don’t want to look at myself in the mirror and think, “ehh… well… this is temporary.” I don’t want to spend what precious little money we have on “temporary” clothes or a temporary body. It’s not even just about vanity; I am uncomfortable. The weather is cooling, I’m getting my footing at work… it’s time. It’s time NOW. 

And deprivation is kind of (forced) easy here. There are no big displays of Halloween candy in any store. I can’t keep chocolate in my desk at school because it would melt. I have always classified people into “sugar” or “salt” categories based on what they crave, and I am a sugar girl living in a salt country. It’s a challenge, but it takes a lot of the pressure off my willpower. 

I’ve convinced Nick’s mom to spend our inheritance on postage for a care package, and it’s on its way! I am so excited. Heatproof spatulas, probiotics, a microplane grater! Tampons! A coffee grinder! Books for the girls and even a couple of magazines for us! I also got a huge bottle of Dr. Bronner’s peppermint soap from my friend Taya, who lugged it across the Pacific and through Tokyo and Hong Kong (thank you x10000 Taya!). I think I’m adjusting better and better to not having western goods, but this box will be such a nice break from… effort. Two things we’ve learned just do not exist here: index cards, and simple pocket folders. I rely on both of these things heavily as a teacher. Nowhere to be found. It makes our jobs even more challenging. I have many, many stacks of paper in my classroom in a makeshift system. It gives my inner organizational nerd hives.

In other adjustment news, I’ve noticed that denial has played a major role in my thoughts. I won’t let myself think of our old house or look at old pictures. Holidays are coming up and I haven’t given them much thought, aside from vague bubbles of “we’ll figure out Halloween when we get there,” and “Christmas tree…? How the hell will we work that one?” We’d like to road-trip to Laos over Xmas vacation (just typing that makes me smile involuntarily), but aside from that? I don’t know. I can’t picture Christmas morning here.  Today is Halloween, and here’s the report: we figured out costumes pretty much on the fly.

I took the girls to a great neighborhood party last night where we knew almost nobody, but they treated us like old friends. Tonight? Well… trick or treating hasn’t really made it up to Chiang Rai yet. So. Our consolation prize to the girls is to eat a big bowl of candy while watching “Paranorman” together. As long as Sascha’s okay with it (and she is), it’s a go. 

It’s not just nostalgia for the US that I’m avoiding. There are several songs that remind me of Europe that I can’t listen to when they turn up in my shuffle. Europe, for me, is an unrequited love. It is my ultimate goal, like finding that childhood romance: if it takes me my whole life, I will get back there. Not to visit. I will find you, and we will be together again. I know. I’m a creepy Europe-stalker. Some of you understand. I can make my toes curl just thinking about the buildings. 

Let me count the ways

I spouted out a little German while riding my bike with Sascha the other day, and I was surprised how easily it flowed out of my mouth. A friend posted pictures of her visit to a vineyard in France, and the afternoon light in the photos made me swoon. The light is different, I swear it is. I started reading “The Zookeeper’s Wife” last week and had to stop. It takes place in Poland. I just can’t. The desire. I can taste it if I let it in. 

Someone asked me recently if I was missing fall in New England. I told her that I’m very surprised to admit that I don’t. It’s a testament to how badly I wanted a change that I’m not sick of the hot, sunny weather here, not one bit. People back home are posting pictures of apple picking, scarves, and stews, and I’m all “LET’S GO SWIMMING!” without an ounce of pain. I just rode my bike around town for an hour, and the weather is cooling and drying off. It’s gorgeous, and lately there’s a strong fresh flower smell everywhere when I go riding. I can’t see any flowers blooming, so I can’t figure out why (John? Any idea?). I’m a flower nerd so it thrills me to my core. The “cooler” weather means that when I go running on weekend mornings, I see people shivering on the backs of motorbikes because of the 70-degree weather. Meanwhile, I’m carrying a hand towel to mop my sweat. 12 years in New England? Blood as thick as molasses. Still, I’m glad to be away from the hard-core snow for a few years. 

Okay, it’s video time. Here’s where I explain the * above: I mentioned that we went on vacation, off the cuff, as though it’s a normal thing. Us, taking a vacation? To a beach? NOT NORMAL! We just never had the money. Nick and I have had one actual vacation since our honeymoon ten years ago, and it took us over a year to pay that off.

Bangkok Air is seriously awesome! That was a delicious chicken pie and a little piece of cake.

We spent the week doing nothing but swimming and eating. Pool, beach, pool, beach. Listening to the cool birds and looking at the crazy butterflies. I spent a lot of time just taking deep breaths. There were a few rainy days, but we couldn’t complain; still gorgeous. 

This was our bathroom. No ceiling on that sucker. Midnight peeing under the stars was interesting.

We rented motorbikes a couple of days to explore the island, but it’s still pretty uninhabited so there wasn’t a lot to see. I took a long ride alone one afternoon and saw a couple of undeveloped beaches, a huge dog fight (there were about a dozen dogs), and an actual monkey. That was cool. At one point I had a little maniacal chuckle to myself, riding through the jungle, thinking: Holy crap. I gave up everything for this. All of it. And it is truly awesome.

So! Here’s the footage!

A week after we returned, we decided it’s time to start getting out and about. Here is our day trip to a local waterfall. This is about a 30-minute drive from us. The drive alone was stunning. The hike was quite challenging; steep and slippery with no guard rails for most of the way. 

This post has been unfinished for so long that I’ve already started working on the next one. It won’t be three more weeks. Stay tuned!

That's so Thailand

Remember the horrible car?

Haaaaate yooooou.

We lent it to a co-worker for a few days to see how he liked it (he likes it a lot, but he wants a truck). Earlier this week he parked it at school to return it. He left the windows open, which I figured was fine. Air that sucker out.

After school today, Nick took Sophie to the store in our real car, and I stayed late to finish entering grades. Sascha stayed after too, so she and I planned take the car home.

She got in the passenger side first and started freaking out immediately. "BUGS! BUGS! BUGS!" flailing and screeching. I looked in the open window on my side and saw a swarm of about 100 mosquitoes. There was no standing water in the car so I can't figure out how that many of them could get in there. I yelled for her to get out of the car, Sascha get out of the car, SASCHA GET OUT OF THE CAR!!! She couldn't hear me because the rain was driving like a thousand bullets on the metal carport roof, so it was rain + two screaming females for a moment. I had to get in the car to move it out of the tight parking spot so I could open the doors for a while.

As luck would have it, an hour earlier I got a long-awaited package from Amazon (hooray for expensive gel deodorant!) which had some picardin mosquito repellent in it. We greased up and got back in. We drove home with the windows down in the angry tropical rain, swatting at the few dozen mozzies still in the car. Of course, of course we got stuck behind some huge cargo vehicle lumbering down the road going about 15 mph.

Something like this.

Then Sascha got some of the mosquito repellent in her eyes, and the ride got more fun. And more loud. We got home and I immediately poured myself a glass of delicious box wine. I think I didn't get bitten, although it's hard to tell. I'm still scratching my head like a POW* and I don't expect that will change for the entire duration of our stay in Thailand.

*I got a hair cut & color a few nights ago. The woman who washed my hair scratched my head, hard, for a good 5-10 solid minutes. Heaven. It didn't itch again for an entire 12 hours.

I wanted to record one more point for the small school: report cards. I spent a big part of my day entering grades, and because I have such small classes (I think I have like 65 total students?), I was able to write meaningful comments for each kid. I feel like I'm giving my students the education I want for my own kids. 

We leave for a week on Koh Kood tomorrow! The timing is perfect. It's always darkest before the dawn, and this week has been pretty heavy. Lots of late nights working. Next post from the beach!

Eulogy

My garden is gone. 

This picture is saved on my computer under "F U Dbag."

I knew it would happen. I knew as soon as we met the guy buying our house, a young, gum-snapping state trooper “bro,” that he wouldn’t be planting any heirloom kale that year. It looks like he took out the young apple trees that were just reaching their productive years, too. I'm so glad I didn't bring home my placenta from the hospital and plant a tree over it like I had intended, because now it would be unceremoniously sitting under a Cat tractor.

It’s not like I didn’t expect it to happen, but seeing the photo was a punch in the gut. I fought tears all morning, put on happy music in an attempt to help. Just about the only thing that calms my throat is this video.
 

That house was my mandala. I painted and polished and tweaked it exactly to my liking. I spent weeks finishing wood to build shelves. One shelf is a 200-year-old floor board I bought with my mother from a salvage place in Maine. The bathroom shelves were stained using Russian tea I brought back from Vienna. I remember building the garden when I was going through some difficult stuff, and we have funny stories about my father’s meticulousness in trying to measure it just right. I want to post pictures but it is painful enough just having them in my mind.  

I expected this. It is not our house anymore. I took a long time to mentally let go before we sold it, and I was ready. In planning this move, we took a full year just to think about doing it. Just to think about it. It’s not like I wasn’t prepared. I was even burning out on that garden, losing my enthusiasm for it two summers before we left. The constant battle with hungry creatures, the beans that didn’t get eaten, the broccoli and grapes that never produced a thing… and of course, the passport that was collecting dust, calling louder and louder. But it doesn’t mean this doesn’t hurt. Even when someone has terminal cancer for a long time, the family still cries when the end finally comes. That garden had been my dream since I was in college. It was my therapy for many years. I’d go out there when I was stressed and the soil on my hands would calm me. 

So it’s done. It’s swept up and in the river now (you had to watch the video), because nothing is permanent. My pictures and memories will last long after this pain is gone, and we are making more pictures and memories every day. I have to be content with where I am now, and I am content. I still don’t regret this. 

My daughters know where carrots come from and how fresh raw peas taste. They know the excitement of digging potatoes like finding buried treasure. They know about snacking on parsley until your mouth turns green and what it’s like to feel an errant tomato squish under your bare toes. I lived that dream of witnessing this. Someday we will grow our own food again.

But when that douchebag replaces my butcher block countertops with useless, stupid granite, I don’t want to know.

I Know That Chicken!

My apologies in advance: there are a lot of Texas references in this post. If you’re not familiar with Texas, just bear with me.

First of all, I’m 44 today. At this age, birthdays are no big deal, at least to me. Last night Nick asked me what I want to do in my 44^th year (wait, isn’t that technically the one that just passed? Ehh, you know). I chose three things:

1.     Lose enough weight and do enough yoga to feel fluid and strong again, instead of creaky, heavy, and stiff.
2.     Get my footing enough here to really appreciate and love it. (Getting my footing will mean I can do more yoga and work on #1.)
3.     Eradicate lice in our house. I’m not holding my breath on that one. I think they’re on me now (there might be one crawling around in my bra as I type this-- yes! It's gross!), but Nick can’t tell because my roots are all white. They’ve been on us long enough to be called pets at this point.
4. Be more present with my kids. I am trying. But so are they.

We just spent the weekend in Chiang Mai. I LOVED it. We got in a little late on Friday night, just enough time to have a little dinner and a night swim before crashing. The next morning we went into town to poke around. In the Old City, which has an actual moat around it from the 14th century, there are blocks and blocks of ancient temples tucked amongst hundreds of little mom-and-pop stores and restaurants. We weren’t able to see much, since the kids lasted about thirty minutes before they started their daily complaining, but we got the idea. And it was a good idea. Almost immediately Nick and I conspired to take turns coming back solo, so we spent the rest of the weekend mentally planning our individual returns.  

Come on now.

I told Nick that I feel like Chiang Rai and Chiang Mai are like College Station and Austin. Granted, my experience with Chiang Mai is very limited so far, and we’ve only been in Chiang Rai for 3 months. But those are my first impressions. In a way, College Station is the "real" Texas, the bare-bones, very essence of the state. It has great barbecue and Mexican food, but it is ultimately a small, isolated town with limited options (disclaimer: I left there in 1994, Austin in ‘95. I’m going by how I knew both cities 20 years ago. Maybe CS is more cosmopolitan now, but you'd be hard-pressed to convince me). Chiang Mai reminded me of Austin with its throngs of young people, lots of places to walk, so many little funky and interesting shops and restaurants and “live” vibe. It feels vibrant. Even the outskirts of it resemble Austin, approaching I-35 from the east. Chiang Rai is quiet. People go about their business. Like College Station, Chiang Rai is not trying to show off. It has nothing to prove. You could say it’s the "real" Thailand, the bare-bones very essence of Northern Thailand. Just my first impressions. I love Chiang Rai, it's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been, but I still plan to go back to Chiang Mai as soon as I can. Alone. I mean, can you imagine trying to see Austin with two whiny, bickering kids?

A casket on a flatbed. Note the guy on the plastic chair. He was throwing slips of paper on the road that looked like scratch tickets. This is why I travel.

One part of the trip was disappointing. A back story is required: Many years ago, Nick and I were taking a cross-country road trip. Normally (and especially before I had kids), I ate a lot of produce and salads. After driving for a few days, I was getting sick of Middle America’s pallid road food and craving something green. We made a plan to find me a salad. I was dreaming of an entrée-sized bowl of crunchy colorful goodness. I was so excited. When the salad arrived, all of the lettuce in the bowl was yellowish white. The tomatoes weren't much better. I was totally deflated.

That was my experience with Rimping Market today. I had read online about how great this place is and about all the hard-to-find western items they carry. All weekend I was antsy to go, which we did on our way out of town. When we walked in, my first impression was that it was a tiny Central Market, one of my favorite stores on the planet. Gorgeous, artfully arranged produce, classical music playing, everything immaculate. 

This was their fish display.

They had grapefruit and Cheerios, which I didn’t buy—didn’t want them enough at those prices. A big wine selection. A few IPAs. But most of what I’d hoped to see was not there. There were three packets of corn tortillas, but all of them had mold on them! After going through a few small, pretty aisles, I realized that Rimping was actually white lettuce (albeit perfectly manicured white lettuce). I felt like a day-old balloon. Fffehhh. I was genuinely saddened for about an hour.

Granted, we went to one western market, and I’m sure there are more options, but I had read that that one was the best. (Debbie Downer noise.) Ultimately, it is just food. Maybe we'll have better luck in Bangkok in two weeks.

And now, for this week’s bullet points. Not too many this time.

For all of the disadvantages of working in a small school (ours is 200 kids K-12), like teaching all of those different classes and not having any sports teams, I think there are far more benefits. Everyone knows everyone. There’s a great sense of cohesion, like a family. When we have staff meetings, I feel like our input is welcomed and heard because it is such a small group. With an average of 15 kids to a class, I can realistically help all of the kids that need help, and I’m not too stressed out to think of actual strategies for each kid. It’s a small enough number that I can remember each of their abilities and needs, and who struggles with what. I feel like it is so beneficial to the kids to be in such a small school.

Only one funny story this time. Sascha’s teacher has a daughter in the 2^nd grade, and twice a week we give her a ride home. Last week as we pulled up to her house, a random chicken went running across her driveway (they’re almost as common here as squirrels are in the US). She said, “Oh, I know that chicken!” Nick and I were laughing too hard to hear the rest, about how it was at her neighbor’s house the day before or whatever. So funny. I know that chicken. It has kind of become our code phrase for anything uniquely (and especially comically) Thai. 

I've compiled a video of this weekend. There was a lot I wish I'd taken video of, but I'll have to do that next time when I go back alone. Enjoy!