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!