Last Days in Chiang Mai

Last weekend was my last solo trip to Chiang Mai. It was harder than the previous weekend in Bangkok. I did all of my favorite things for the last time.

My favorite run, around the Old City perimeter, inside the 14th century moat

My favorite bar, the Boy Blues Bar. This guy is so silly. He sings blues standards with a thick Thai accent and flirts with the crowd.

Temple-ing

GUUHHH I love Thailand

Take Your Child to Work Day for my tuk-tuk driver

Muy Thai match

I made a great effort to be fully present the whole time. (A sidenote: Mindfulness can be exhausting after a while.) I tried to memorize the sensations of each experience, because if I'm going to be painfully honest with myself, I will probably never be in Chiang Mai again. I can't remember the last time I cried, but I sniveled and wept like a child in the back of that tuk-tuk the whole way out of the city to the bus station. I felt raw for an hour afterward. Leaving the country will be worse I'm sure. I cried when I left Germany in 1991, but at least I didn't know at the time that I wouldn't travel again for eight more years. This time, I'm well aware of what our situation will be.

Wanna know a secret? When we left the US, I did not want to come back. I wanted to continue through the international school circuit for the rest of my life. It was hard on me when we made the collective decision to return. I still agree that it's the responsible decision, but it's hard. All the things I was happy to leave behind are still there waiting for me.

Moving back feels like moving back...wards.

More than anything, I am dreading the cost of living. Look at this:

Click to enlarge. Do it! Thai Expedia. This is the flight we're taking home. Note the price, converted below.

 Now. Look at THIS.

US Expedia. Same flight. Why? WHY??

This is what we are dealing with. And can we talk about real estate?

Click on this and check it out. This house is selling for $400K. Four. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. And even though it looks like something out of a documentary about someone's misfortune, it will sell. Fast.

Behold the '80s decor and linoleum. Ready for the price on this one?
$600,000. Six. Not a typo. It'll sell in two days.

It is infuriating to hear people defend this with a singsongy, "Oh, that's the market." No. It's financial house arrest. Everything we earn will go into the water-stained fiberboard roof over our heads and we'll have very little left. I am so bitter.

See my braided hair in the picture above, where I'm getting a foot massage? It cost me $6 to get that done. (The foot massage cost the same.) Last time I got my hair done exactly like that in the US, in two French braids, guess how much it cost? SssssssssIXTY dollars. For two braids. (I paid because it was a special occasion, but I was obviously scarred by it since it was 12 years ago.) I can't possibly be the only one who thinks all of these prices are beyond ridiculous.

I am forcing myself to focus on the bright side, and there are a lot of bright sides. Our jobs will be so much easier. My kids will have friends again (and let's face it, our adult social lives went from lame to flatlined when we moved here; we're lonely too). I am so, so looking forward to cooler weather. Every afternoon here I'm faced with cooking dinner in an 85-degree kitchen with the same five meal options. Looking for dinner ideas online, it's all, shrimp*, fish, steak, grilling this or that; nope, nope, nope. We eat the same things so often that I'd be happy to never see them again (I'm looking at you, Casino brand frozen pizza).

I HATE YOU

Yes, we have a simpler existence here, but sometimes it's a little too simple. 

 *Have I talked about the seafood here? Well, almost everything we eat is local. This makes for the best quality eggs and chicken (seriously amazing), but the fish comes from here:

And it always smells like the river. It's not a clean smell. Even the frozen seafood labeled from the ocean has a dank, gut-twisting funk. Sometimes I can handle it if it's battered and fried. But I can wait.

I'm going to post this now, at the risk of offending people around the globe. Lately I think I am batting a thousand at saying too much. I don't want to come off sounding like this person:

If you are not American, don't be fooled into thinking this is a pretty woman. She is a horrid beast of an individual!

...because that's who I feel like, but it is a stressful, emotional time right now. Whatever thoughts I vomit up in the next few months are not going to be any prettier.