“Short” is a military term which refers to your tour (base
assignment) almost being over. It’s when you can see the end.
I have decidedly mixed feelings about this.
Our jobs have taken a sour turn. The students are still some
of the best I’ve ever had, lively, funny and bright. They are my sole
motivation, and sometimes they’ve been the only reason I haven’t hopped on a
plane home early. But in the last few months, staff discontent has been
growing, to put it mildly. Having the screws tightened on us has been strangely counterproductive.
Something like this.
Many teachers are looking for new jobs; two quit mid-year. Just
before Christmas, my pay was docked when I requested time off for my parents’ visit.
It’s a long story, but the bottom line is that my anger hasn’t softened one
bit (we did sell everything we owned to pay our own way here). This is partly why I haven’t written here for so many months. I just want
to get out of there and be finished. It’s unfortunate, but oddly helpful as it will make it easier
to leave when the time comes.
I am looking forward to the high of moving again; the
fresh start, settling into the new place, figuring out our new routines,
reuniting with our families and old friends and coworkers. Picking out new sheets and towels! Even the packing
and unpacking will be kind of fun (my military brat friends understand this).
Except... I will miss Asia. Asia feels good. It's warm and relaxed, interesting and quirky. Thailand is a police state but I feel so free here. I am very apprehensive about
money after we move back. I always felt so limited back home, like our hands were always tied.On paper we made really good money, but we always had debt, never
traveled, and every expense was painful. Here, we make next to nothing and we’ve
lived like royalty.
And the color! I am astonished every day by the beauty here, openly available to everyone. Everything even remotely beautiful in the US is prohibitively expensive. In the back of my head, I have this nagging thought. I’m leaving this…
And going home to, well, this.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
New England is home, though. It's home. The wooly accents, the dirty snow, the great beer and terrible coffee (looking at you Dunks... yeah, I said it), the salty language and sincere, unrestrained laughs. The grungy pizza/sub shops on every corner that smell like old bowling alleys and have menus that look like this:
I love these places
My heart feels so open there. I miss it, and I will love being back, but apart from a few stunning weeks in the fall, I think I will feel a distinct lack of color and spice in my life. There's little left there to explore and discover that I haven't already. My senses will be understimulated. I worry about that. I'm hoping that all of our rediscovered conveniences (and cold weather clothing choices!) will help smooth the transition, but knowing that we can't hop on a plane for a weekend change of scenery, or that we won't be using our passports again for a long time, will be tough. I will probably dive headfirst into grad school to try to distract myself from the nagging ache of wanderlust.
We have one last big trip planned. In April, we're going to the beach. I chose a quiet, isolated island close to Malaysia:
That's the entire island! We're staying on the beach in the foreground.
After a few days there, we'll fly back to Bangkok together where I will split from the family to take a few days in Saigon by myself. I am living for this trip. I will spend a few days walking around the city, listening to music, lost in my own head, probably shedding a few tears. In May, Nick and I will each take final solo trips to Chiang Mai and Bangkok. Then it will be time to turn our attention towards the big move.
I still haven't written about India. That's another reason I haven't written since October. In November I had three visitors, then my parents and other family came for three weeks in December for a whirlwind trip. I was crazy busy. It was the greatest trip of my life, and I'm still trying to wrap my brain around it, as well as get pictures organized. That entry is going to be a book. Hopefully soon!
The past few weeks have been building in an unpleasant
crescendo of stress. It was the end of the term, we were wrapping up grades,
teachers and students alike were getting sick, everyone was burning out. Nick
and I were testy. The girls each had tearful, exhausted meltdowns at separate
times. Two teachers had deaths in their families. Another teacher walked off
the job. The principal decided that the last week of school would be a great time to rearrange the
schedule for some professional development, for
which we would need to prepare work. Everything felt like a tornado.
And then? The King of Thailand died.
School was canceled. We had a day to breathe, and organize
our thoughts and suitcases for our Vietnam trip.
The King’s death has been oddly uneventful, so far. CNN had
the headline, “King’s Death Throws Country into Turmoil,” and… not really.
Everyone is wearing black. There was TV footage of people crying outside the hospital
in Bangkok. A lot of plans have been canceled. Every TV channel had
retrospectives. I wouldn’t get all Shatner and call it thrown!
into turmoil! It’s no wonder people
think the world is such a terrifying place, with stupid headlines like that.
Even with the day off school, we pushed our limits traveling
that day. It was planes, trains & automobiles for hours on end. Walking, dragging
suitcases through chaotic Friday night Bangkok. The girls were absolute champs.
We were filthy and exhausted by the time we got to our hotel at 9:30 pm, and
after we hosed ourselves down, got bad sleep in a room that never cooled off
enough despite the jet-engine air conditioner.
Up & at ‘em 8 hours later!We made it through the expensive visa
labyrinth that is having a US passport in Vietnam. We gawked our way through
the cab windows to the hotel, then had a quick lunch.
I had low expectations for
Saigon (also called Ho Chi Minh City), having not heard good things about it from any source. To my surprise,
I felt a weird magnetic connection to Saigon. I just… dug it. It’s mostly the Southeast Asia that I know, with people
sitting in plastic chairs on sidewalks...
This. Everywhere.
...with some French colonial architecture
mixed in, and just enough propaganda to tug at my fondness for all things
Soviet. A great part of the city is small streets lined with big shady trees,
giving it a homey feel. Maybe we just had good luck there and only saw the best
parts, but I definitely feel that I could live there. Especially if I was young
and single; it’s that kind of city. Nick and I were both quietly cursing that
we wasted our 20s not living in a city like that. Also, holy crap, we stayed in a three bedroom, two bath apartment
with a full kitchen and laundry for about $65 a night!
While in Saigon we went to the War Remnants Museum. It was
fascinating to see a museum from the perspective of the people who we fought
against, and the people who beat us. There were many stories of gut-twisting
atrocities, but what bothered me the most was this one couple taking pictures.
This vapid twit of a woman was taking semi-sexy poses next to the exhibits,
like doing the head-tilted, wide-eyed, hair stroking move next to a display of
bullets and grenades, or next to a section of sewer pipe where three children
hid and were found and murdered. I was so horrified that I found myself
following them around, and I tried to get a picture of one of their poses but
couldn’t make it happen. It was so offensive that I had to sit down in the
hallway for a little while. Aside from them, and the myriad of selfie sticks
(why, people? There? Why?)… great museum.
Next we moved on to Hoi An, which is about 30 minutes south
of Da Nang (we checked out China Beach first, but having just missed a
hurricane by a day, there was no swimming). I went on several recommendations.
People said they wanted to retire there, a few others said they went for two
days and ended up staying longer, so I was intrigued. And? Mmmmehh. I mean, it’s
gorgeous. The old part of the city is like a movie set, it has so much
character. But that was about four blocks, and it was full of nonstop hawkers.
“You want to buy? Please, special price for you!” “Hello! Lady!” “Happy hour!”
(lots of “happy hour”), and our
favorite, “In the morning!” I guess that was supposed to mean that because it
was morning, we got a special price? I don’t know, but we would hear “In the
morning!” as a constant sales catcall.
One thing I can say about Hoi An is that we stayed in the
nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in in my life. It was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. I
once spent a day at the Ojai Spa near Santa Barbara, where celebrities go, and this was just as
nice… if not nicer. And? $55/night.
My favorite part of Hoi An was when we rented some bikes. We rode about 30 minutes out to the beach, where the waves
were still crazy. I didn’t have a data plan in Vietnam, so without GPS or a map
I used my old-school compass on my phone to get us back to town. We had a great
time. I love getting lost on a bike.
Hanoi was next. We had both read in several places that Hanoi was the real
charmer, with its historical buildings and whatnot. Okay, picture this: Imagine
New York City, with its storefronts and noise and people. Now put the city
through the dryer and shrink it by about 75%, but keep the same traffic,
people, and noise. OH MY GOD THE NOISE. People in Vietnam drive with their
horns to let others know they’re there. With all streets packed full of cars
and motorbikes, it’s earsplitting and nerve-wracking. If you know my nervous, Type-A
daughter Sascha, you can appreciate how much it bothered her. She would shriek,
“Why aren’t they driving on the right side of the road? Why are the bikes
riding on the sidewalk? Why are they driving the wrong way down the one-way
street?” and so on. I promised her that I’d someday take her to Vienna, the
pinnacle of civilization and order, where she truly belongs. Hanoi is just a tangled mess. The storefronts are tiny, sometimes barely wider than the doors.I didn’t feel any charm, I felt
stress and flight (as in fight or flight). We tried to walk around, but all
sidewalks are full of bikes so you’re kind of forced to dodge cars and more
bikes in the street. The air is thick with exhaust, giving me a nagging cough
that has lingered for days.
Then there are the most aggressive hawkers I have
ever encountered. One guy cornered me to quickly glue part of my sneaker that
he perceived to be loose, then harassed me for two blocks about “Why you no pay
me? I fix your shoe!” Another woman practically shoved a donut hole into my mouth,
then demanded about $10 for a bag of them (I laughed). UGGGHH. We were quite
happy to hide in our crappy hotel room. Hanoi is not for the faint of heart.
At
the very least, we were able to find an awesome public playground. There are
exactly zero public playgrounds in Chiang Rai, unless you count the vintage
metal set we found along the river.I
love Chiang Rai, but it is utilitarian. No frills.
And then... Halong Bay. This is one of those places like
Switzerland that you cannot believe is real. It is so beautiful, and of course
pictures don’t do it justice. And it is so
quiet. We really appreciated the peace after Hanoi. We were on a cruise line
that was rated #1 on Trip Advisor. This whole visit to Vietnam has got me
second-guessing online reviews. We lucked out in Saigon & Hoi An, but I’ve
raised an eyebrow at the reviews up north—and after encountering those
awful hawkers, it's not too hard to figure out who is putting in the top ratings.
Reviews aside, this is one of the greatest tours I have ever
taken. There were only 18 people on the boat. We went kayaking, swimming, and
hiking into a cave; we had a white-tablecloth barbecue on the beach and cooking
lessons. We visited a pearl farm. By far my favorite has been the swimming. Any
chance I could get my body into that beautiful green water, it was a good day.
There was minimal trash, a rarity these days, the temperature was perfectly cool,
and it had the most wonderful smell.
It's nice to get back to the comforts of a country
I know. I didn’t realize how much I rely on Thailand’s ubiquitous 7-11s—Vietnam
has no convenience stores. However, my workload at school has
gone insane. I got really sick at the end of the term and I blame stress. I had
planned to run a half marathon in December, but I think I’m going to have to
downgrade to a 10K and I'm very disappointed about it. Between my exhaustion from work and the hot, rainy weather,
this has been my training:
I want to plan ahead so that I can breathe a little, but the workload is so staggering that
I’m kind of paralyzed. For two of my five classes right now, I’m looking at
the subjects going oh my god where in the
fresh hell do I even begin with this. I end up just moving through the term
patching leaks in the dam instead of building a solid structure. I hate it
because my students deserve better than that. But there is only so much one
person can realistically do, and it has to be that way in order for me to have time for the kids, to exercise, to cook dinner, to have a life. The silver lining is that I’m in an odd position
of power. If the school asks me to do something (run a workshop or club for example),
and I politely decline, what can they do about it? Will they fire me? Who will
they find to take my place, to pay their own way here and teach five different
subjects for a whopping $24,000 salary? It has made me a little braver about
not being a yes-man.
So the next blog post may be about visitors! I have three visitors coming in November and I cannot wait to see their goggle-eyed amazement at Thailand. And seven more weeks until my parents arrive!
I was writing a lecture for my environmental science class
last week, and had a really dumb light-bulb moment (Simpsons fans would call it
a “dental plan” moment). Thailand is a third-world country.
In a way, it’s like “no duh,” but I’m learning that the
standards for these categories are somewhat fluid. I’ve gone down several internet
rabbit holes reading about this. This
article was the shortest and most concise. It’s fascinating. I actually saw
one website call Thailand a first-world country. The terms came from Cold War alliances and are technically outdated, but the images they conjure remain.
You think “third world,” and images like this come to mind.
I think, nooo, this isn’t third world. Not here. The people here are witty
and friendly, well-fed,and have multi-dimensional lives. The third world is
far, far away, somewhere else, like beyond the moon, and people sit around starving and being miserable. You know what?
We are far away. There are several houses that look just like these,
right on our street! Our neighbors cook breakfast on on open fire out in their yard. Our house’s entire electrical system is basically a
mile-long extension cord, and it’s considered a luxury that we get hot water from
our kitchen sink. It’s a weird feeling to have this dawn on me. I’ve seen
pictures of the “third world” my whole life, and it just looks different in
person. Less scary, I guess, and so intensely beautiful. I will fully
acknowledge how much of a privileged white princess I sound like when I say all
of this, so go ahead and roll your eyes. It’s a learning process.
So it was no surprise this morning when we got stuck in the
mud on the way to work. And of course, it was on a section of our street where
there’s no phone signal, so I couldn’t text our boss that we’d be late.
We will be doing exactly this a little over a year from now,
except the mud will be white and cold instead of brown and sticky. Sigh.
However, the snow won’t make Mike-Tyson’s-face-tattoo splatters on Nick’s face
when he tries to get us unstuck.
A couple of weeks ago we had another crazy faculty Amazing
Race, like we did last year. At one point, we were zipping up the river on a
longtail boat. As I was mentally gushing to myself over the beautiful scenery,
one of the guys (who has lived here for many years) said, “Can you believe we
live here? We live here!” My thoughts exactly. It seems the sense of wonder
doesn’t dull over time.
The same guy, who is Dutch, said something later that day
that I think my American friends will get a kick out of. I said something to
the other American on the team, calling him “Watson.” The Dutch guy said, “Is
that a thing in America, calling each other by your last names?” It was kind of
adorable. I had to explain that it’s an informal thing that has sort of stemmed
from sports.
A few months ago, someone asked me what the latest news was on our horrible ex-landlord from the Miami Vice house. We had gone back & forth with lawyers, he was legally in the wrong, but it would have cost us a lot of money to force him to admit it, so we just put off further contact until it sort of went away. He still has our money, of course. It is very similar to the stories about Trump not paying people. This guy is so Trump-- a rich, powerful narcissist. Anyway, we thought it was over. Out of the blue this weekend, I got a call from a real estate agent who has acted as a messenger between us, telling me that Mr. British Trump is willing to drop the whole thing (meaning, not coming after us for more than what he already has!) if we promise not to take any further legal action. Wow, how generous of him!
Well. Maybe it's because she caught me off guard, but... I gave her a piece of my mind about Mr. Landlord. And I gave her piece after piece for about 45 minutes. How much sleep we've lost over this. How he is in the wrong, in about 658 bullet points. How it's pocket change to him, but it's our entire net worth. I stopped to forward her e-mails where I cite Thai laws he is breaking. By the end of the conversation, I was shaking with blind rage. She said she'd see if she could talk him into giving us back any more money, but I told her I wasn't holding my breath. Unless she has good news, I never want to hear anything about him again, unless it's that he died a firey cancerous death involving spiders and hot pokers and weeping leprosy.
I need to post this so I can scramble together today's lesson plans. School is kicking my behind. The sheer amount of work involved in teaching this many different classes is a very high bar, and it's a good day if I can barely stretch high enough to tap it. Actually hurling myself over that bar? Forget it. I am at my full capacity for what I'm capable of. It's good to know your limits, but damn. It is really, really hard.
Our school has gotten a lot of mileage from our kids on their promotional materials...
We’re now in our fourth week of school. It’s a little
different this year. They’ve lengthened the school day by 30 minutes, with many
schedule adjustments that are not working out very well logistically. This job
is making me appreciate the importance of a union. When the staff is unionized,
everyone knows their place and expectations are clear. Without one, there are
allegiances and backstabbing and unpleasant surprises. It’s similar to parents
having no rules or consistency for their children; it just doesn’t work well
for anyone. It’s not just because this is a private school, either. I’m seeing
this happen with my teacher friends in non-union public schools in the US, too.
One friend in particular is getting overworked to the point of abuse.
Educating children and making a profit are two diametrically opposite goals. It's like trying to travel north and south at the same time. You can only succeed at one at a time. It seems like the only people who truly understand this are teachers.
Anyway, so I am teaching five different classes this year,
one of which I am literally making up writing the curriculum as I go
along (environmental science, which I’ve never taught before). It’s a bear
trying to keep my head on straight. That plus the longer day means I’m starting
to feel like I did back home: tired, stressed, having to choose between working
out or making dinner and usually too exhausted to do either. It’s not nearly as
bad though... We still have a 12-minute commute, no pets, a small house to keep
clean, no lunches to pack, about 10% of the social life we had back home, and
abundant massages if I need to feel refreshed.
And we have amazing trips to look forward to! I’ve started
to plan out our October trip to Vietnam, and I’m out of my tree with
excitement. I’ve started reading books about the war and will soon start on the
movies (suggestions welcome). We’re going to Saigon, Da Nang, and Hanoi. I want
to see as much of the historical sites as I can, but we’re also going to hang
out on one of these for three days…
Cue squealing
It’s crazy. It’s crazy. I am much happier to work as
hard as I am when I have that to look forward to. Then it's Cambodia for the half-marathon in December, India for Christmas, and Nepal in April. The Himalayas, you guys. I'm trying to arrange a school kayaking trip in Laos, and a senior trip to Bali to work in sea turtle conservation.
Something like this! For real! For real!
Next year I have to comfort
myself with the thought that work will be easier, but the only reward we’ll
get is time off to stay at home and try not to spend any money. We'll make three times as much and be able to afford less. It’s okay.
We’re squeezing every drop of life that we can out of these two years.
Home
This is one of the best things about working here: The
picture below shows our building and where all of our classes are. I get to see the
girls all day long! Sascha is two classrooms down from me. I love this so much.
So that's about it for now. I am hyper-aware of the amount of time we have left here. Yes, I love it, and I find myself smiling spontaneously more than I ever have in my life, but I know it's an affair, not a marriage. It's a fun, exciting, whirlwind affair that makes me feel so incredibly alive, but I know it's not forever. Sascha said we should put a countdown app on my phone, and I refused.
My girls, watching the clouds in a parking lot. I don't know why I love this picture so much.
However, then we started talking about the dogs we might possibly get when we move home. Things like that make it easier. Ahh, so does the six-inch spider I saw while hiking last weekend! I showed the pictures to my students, and one said "oh yeah, I saw two of those in the school's laundry room the other day," and another said, "oh yeah, those are very poisonous."
The other day we were sitting in a faculty meeting and the school director was talking about some of the hiring challenges they've had. I thought... I know a lot of teachers. Any of you want to come and do this?
This job would be perfect for either a young single teacher, a teaching couple (I don't know many of those), or a teacher whose spouse could work remotely. Tuition at the school is covered for one child per teacher, so if you're a teaching couple, two kids. I can't honestly say it would be worth it otherwise; tuition is pricey. All contracts at our school are for one year. It's worth a thought! My god, especially if you're young and single. And an elementary teacher. I could walk you through the whole thing.
Why not?
We've started back up again, but just the teachers for now. We go back a full 8 school days before the kids, and 95% of that time is free to set up our rooms. I love it. It forces me to get in and work, and also clearly defines the summer so I don't have to give school a thought until I physically step back into it. I'm not simultaneously freaked out and bewildered like I was this time last year, I was moved to a new room that's way better than what I had, I have some new ideas, and I know exactly what to expect. It's going to be a great year.
I had this moment today of overwhelming happiness. I had just been to the market and had several nice interactions with people. I had a bowl of khao soi.
A local dish; noodles in coconut curry. I could eat it every single day.
I was driving around town and the sky was doing dramatic rainy things in every direction, spilling dark clouds over the mountains here, a sheet of rain over there, bright sunbeams peeking out over there. It was just beautiful. I thought to myself, I have a year of experience behind me, and a year ahead. One year to learn, one year to practice what I've learned*. It's an incredibly sweet spot. I have to strike a balance between appreciating the silence and beauty, and trying not to panic that I only have 11 more months of it. I mean, this is the view out my window right now.
This is my view when I do yoga.
*I've learned to slow down, mostly my brain. I can't say I'm an expert, but I am sleeping like a champ now. However, if I'm gonna talk about things I've learned in a year, my Thai language skills still suck.
I keep meaning to put this somewhere, so here is as good as any. We have these birds outside our house that make the funniest sound. Woop-woop-woop-woop. I call it the Three Stooges bird. It sounds like Curly. I finally looked it up today! Thank you Internet, it's called the Greater Coucal. We see them everywhere. They're gorgeous. But this sound... man, it is the soundtrack to our house, that's for sure. The one in this video sounds a little slower, a little less Curly than the ones around us.
I'll finish this post with a funny story. Today I went to buy some plants for my classroom. I went to a small garden shop where a scruffy old woman was napping on top of stacked bags of soil. (Workplace naps are a common sight here-- having had my share of boring jobs, I love it.) This same woman would later help me load my car, where I would discover that-- surprise!-- she actually smelled great, like fresh sugar cookies. I know. ??? Anyway, I asked the other employee where the indoor plants were. She showed me this collection of huge, gorgeous, healthy plants. I picked out a few and asked her how much. She said "35 baht." I let out a shocked gasp, because that is one dollar. These plants would easily run $15-20 at Home Depot. She immediately said, "30 baht!" As if I was gasping because they were expensive! Oh, Thailand.
Before we moved here, we started following these vloggers
who were living in Chiang Rai at the time. One of their videos in particular made
an impression on me, about this temple called Wat Phasorn Kaew, and I promised
myself I’d find a way to visit this place.
I finally went! Since it was such a long drive, I thought
I’d fit in a visit to Sukhothai as well. Sukhothai is basically a complex of
ancient temples and palaces (13th-14th centuries) that used to be the capitol of Thailand.
Sukhothai's Giant Buddha. Picture by twotravelholics.com; not my picture. I'll explain why later.
I really wanted to see these places, and the girls would have
made this trip hell (a seven-hour drive to see temples? nope), and we couldn’t
go without them, so I went alone. The entire trip—two days of driving, two
hotels, and three days of restaurant eating-- cost about the same as a date
night back home.
Below is a video of my trip. I haven’t made a video in a
long time, and I’m so excited that I am finally
learning how to edit my pictures so that they look a little closer to how they
do in person with the vivid colors and great lighting. One of the last pictures
in the video is of Sukhothai’s giant Buddha statue, one of its most famous
landmarks (pictured above). I had saved it for last and was excited to see it.
When I turned down the road, it was full of construction and trinket stands.
Having just spent several hours on a bike with mellow Zero 7 and Alexi Murdoch on my
headphones, discovering these magical ruins quietly tucked away in lush
forests and fields (it’s the low season and I had the place mostly to myself),
this was a buzzkill. When I found out it cost an additional $3 to enter, I said
screw it. I saw it from the dusty, clanking road and snapped a picture. Good
enough. At that point, there was a heat index of 99F and I was drenched with
sweat anyway.
Speaking of sweat, here's our latest challenge: laundry. Our washing machine doesn't get hot water, only cold, and it doesn't have an agitator. It doesn't do a great job. I work out in 80-90 degree weather, heavy on the humidity. My shirts get completely soaked through. When I put my workout shirts through the regular wash, they come out smelling... unrecognizable. Like a chemical reaction turned the smell into something beyond human. It's shockingly bad. And it's not like we're using some mild, ineffective, environmentally friendly detergent; there are no Whole Foods products in developing countries. So I have to boil water from the electric kettle and soak my workout shirts in a bucket overnight. It's very primitive, and a complete pain. But the smell of those shirts leaves me no option. The boiling soapy soak works, but man. It's work.
We go back to school for teacher prep days next Wednesday,
and our students start on the 15th. I’ve hit the point that I’m over
summer. The kids are bored and fighting. We’re all ready for some structure.
Happy anniversary to us... we arrived in Chiang Rai one year ago today*. We chuckle at how bewildered we were that day, dragging ourselves from our hostel to the closest restaurant we could find before we collapsed in the heat. Then there were months of itching, sweating, nausea, and bitter struggle... We survived an intense school year and lost about $5,000, we've traveled a fair amount, made a handful of friends I hope we'll have for life, and I'm 13 pounds lighter. We have come a long way, and I am so proud.
*I actually started this entry a week ago. Now we've been here a year and a week.
Now: facing down the descent. As Nick says, descending a peak is when most injuries occur. Considering the financial hardships we've had, I really hope the worst is behind us and the year is smooth.
We had our first official visitors last month! Nick's brother Kyle came first, and Nick played tour guide. Then my former student (and current friend) Heather came, and I took the reins. My god, we had fun. We saw Bangkok, a beach with wild monkeys, many night markets, a Muy Thai fight*, funky Chiang Mai street art, waterfalls, and temples. We played with elephants in the rain. We called a cab one time and a very sweet old man showed up in an SUV with his whole family, but hey, it was a ride to the airport and there were two empty seats. We got $10 massages in a traditional teak building while a tropical storm raged outside. We hiked at a botanical garden just a few steps from the Myanmar border. We covered just about everything. I love seeing Thailand through someone else's eyes. It amazes me every day, it's just nice to be able to show it to someone else, sort of confirming that I'm not dreaming this.
*To my local friends: If you haven't been to a Muy Thai fight, GO! We just did the one they have in the Chiang Mai night market every night. It's 400 baht (there are ticket hawkers everywhere) and it is one of the coolest things I've seen here.
Right now I'm looking at the year ahead and it's suddenly looking very short. On one hand, my feelings for Thailand have found a healthy balance and I'm looking forward to the conveniences of home (namely, a dishwasher; we're both sick of slippery dishes dropping and breaking while washing them by hand). I keep a list of things I miss, something I've covered in previous entries. The latest: I miss the library. I miss peas, GOOD peas, sweet baby peas. The only ones we get here are big, hard, and chalky no matter how long you cook them. I miss my full-sized food processor. I miss good summer tomatoes. Tropical climates will produce tomatoes year-round, but never good ones. I miss Triscuits.
I am tired of the critters. We had a brief respite from the scorpions, but they've come back. Our new record was four found in one day; two of those were shaken out of my yoga mat. And one night I reached for the toilet paper and there was a thick, black, two-inch spider sitting right on it. Actually it was on the back side of it, so I had to unroll it a little before I got my surprise. Come on, man.
But on the other hand, my spidey-senses are on full alert here, in a good way. I remember on our wedding day (eleven years ago tomorrow!), I was hyper-aware of every moment, paying extra close attention to every second of the day to make sure I fully soaked it in. I'm kind of like that here. The view out of any window in our house is breathtaking every day. There are smells of wood smoke, jasmine, coffee and rain. The sound of roosters, cows, and more rain. My mind is so clear without the phone ringing. I can't believe how much my phone rang back home-- fundraising cops and firemen, mostly (give it a REST guys, damn), but the witching hour always seemed to bring major crises to my loved ones, blowing up my phone with text after text as I tried to put out my own fires. You know how you have your best thoughts, your most creative problem-solving thoughts when you're in the shower, or driving, or lying in bed or anywhere else you're not distracted by chaos? That's my life now. The daydreaming part of my brain is chugging along all the time. A lot of the time, I'm trying to think of how I can keep this peace when we move home. It will probably start with not getting a land line, and turning off my phone between 4 and 8.
We were watching something on Netflix the other day and someone said, "You're the worst." It reminded me of a fight we had with Sascha back home. There was yelling and door-slamming. And you know what? We haven't had any fights here. Not a single slammed door this entire year. Not once. Why is that?
Planning trips has become an addiction; even more so now that I know our time is limited. We spent a couple days in Chiang Mai and rolled in all tired last night, so happy to be home... and by this morning I was poking around the websites again to plan a solo trip to Sukhothai next week. I'm going to try to work my travel desires into field trips, to save time and money. I haven't approached my school about this yet, but I have found a two-week trip to Malaysia for my Environmental Science class... one week studying rainforest conservation (here), and one week working in a sea turtle hatchery at the beach (here). I KNOW. There's also an opportunity to feed the homeless of Saigon for a week with my health class. I've started the ball rolling on our Christmas trip to India by pinning down some dates with our friends. This is the Big One for me, having wanted to go to India for as long as I can remember. We are totally going to ride camels in Rajasthan. I've reserved a hotel in Siem Reap for the Angkor Wat half marathon in December (made sure it was fully refundable, heh). And last but not least, I've started poking around travel websites for Nepal. Nepal. Actually seeing the Himalayas in person. The four of us could go for a week, and airfare, hotels and guided tours would cost about $3,000. We don't exactly have that kind of money, so I'm torn. Three grand, for four people, for a week in Nepal? When will we ever get that opportunity again? It's only a four-hour flight! When I look at the big picture, is it worth racking up credit card debt? What would my 70-year-old self say? Well, I know what my gut is telling me, without an ounce of hesitation.
