Stuff I've Noticed

I played with "culture shock"-type titles for this post, but nothing has been a shock, or really a surprise, and not always cultural. So here goes some stuff I've noticed.

I was expecting the local fruit to be different. We'd seen some Anthony Bourdain show where he was eating some fruit that was too perishable to be shipped, so you could only get it in that country. He was going nuts over how great it was. Now that we're here, we've found that local-only fruit! Longan, mangosteen, rambutan, to name a few. Annnd... They're kind of disappointing. Most fruits have their own unique flavor: mangoes, pineapple, and passion fruit all taste only like themselves. The other ones I've had here are very sweet, but they're blandly sweet, like plain white sugar. It's kind of a bummer. Maybe that's why I'm not a big fan of figs, either. Sweet, but... just sweet. I have yet to try durian, which definitely has its own flavor, but I'm open.

Also, right now it's apparently strawberry season. In November. That's amusing to me. Wanna know the Thai word for strawberry? It's strawberry, but the emphasis is on the "REE" at the end, which is fun to say. And the local strawberries are very small, like blackberries.

Thailand loves hot dogs. I mean, it loves hot dogs. Smooth, single-color processed meat comes in all shapes and sizes and shades of gray to pink-orange. They're on every breakfast buffet, labeled "sausage." (No.) (However, there is a local Northern Thai sausage that is incredible.) A great deal of the street food stalls offer these baloney-like meats, usually in dime-sized balls on skewers. I made pigs in blankets for Sascha's birthday party, and the pigs were probably the easiest thing to find (no crescent roll dough; had to make it from scratch, but turned out great).

My sister asked me the other day if there are grocery stores here. Yes! Closest to us is a Costco-type warehouse store. Here's the fish department... that stuff is fresh.

About a ten minute drive away, there are two stores. One is a very pretty market in the mall that carries a lot of Western goods.

Free samples... of raw fish. Can you imagine? In the US? *LIABILITY!!*

The German section. American Style Hot Dogs! And chocolate called "Feelings." Marketing geniuses.

The other one is sort of like a Super Wal-Mart. It carries everything. I took this a few months ago, but this is the one we normally go to.

More Random Thailand:

That last video was barrettes that I saw in the market. The first one is made of pills. Then there's a pasta barrette, beer bottle caps...

Here's a recent culture shock/stupid light-bulb moment: I was at school thinking about what to do for dinner. I thought, ehh, maybe we can just go out. But then I thought, gawwh, can’t we just go somewhere that’s indoors? With walls, and air conditioning? And then I realized: this is exactly what you wanted, you idiot. You spent months trapped indoors, and you wanted to be outside. Most of rural Thailand is exposed, and this being a small/new city, a lot of Chiang Rai is exposed as well. There's plenty of middle-class (and up) housing, but many, many people here live in … houses? consisting of basically a platform and a roof. Here's a video I took of a house close to our neighborhood. It's hard to tell if it's someone's house, or a little restaurant, or both. I slowed it down to half time so you can see right through the house to the other side. It's just wide open. I felt a little intrusive taking this video, I have to admit.

Or if it’s a regular house, it has screenless windows.

This is a government building downtown, but I wanted to get the traditional Thai window design.

So. Plenty of fresh air. It is what I wanted.

This post is all over the place (as am I, as I write it from school, and home, with kids talking to me and dinner and baths in between and whatnot). I'll finish with this final video I took today. It was a typical situation: I went to get Sascha's bike fixed downtown. I was not looking forward to it because I always think they're going to think I'm a stupid farang, not knowing much Thai, with my big mouth, big boobs and big wallet. Anyway, I hung out in the back of the bike shop while a huge truck unloaded its cargo right next to me (liability!) and I watched the guy fix her tire. As I was sitting there half-grinning in my usual state of "oh my god I can't believe I am living here, I am so happy," I heard monks chanting from the temple next door. I got a 30-second video as I left.

Strep Neck and Chiang Mai

I have strep throat, but the pain went all the way around to the base of my skull, so I’m calling it strep neck. Ugh. I went looking for a doctor to confirm that it was bacterial (because you can buy antibiotics over the counter here), and ended up in the ER. They were very nice, the place was clean and efficient, and I paid less than $20 for the whole thing (all out of pocket—I don’t know how our insurance works yet). Public health care is so utterly oppressive!

I spent last weekend in Chiang Mai, by myself. A weekend alone is decadent enough, but Chiang Mai has worked its way into my top five favorite cities. In no particular order, they are: Austin, DC, Boston, Munich, and now Chiang Mai. I love places that honor their history and uniqueness, not just vast wastelands of chain stores and restaurants with a hotly defended two-block area of cultural preservation, which is just about every other US city I’ve seen. (Granted, I haven’t seen Portland yet, and San Francisco ticks all those boxes perfectly on paper, but for some reason it didn’t speak to me when I was there.) Public transportation is a major factor, and Austin is lacking there, but its motto is “Keep Austin Weird”—I can’t argue with that. 

Chiang Mai has that X factor for me. It’s a manageable size; I took my bike down on the bus and spent the weekend seeing most of it on two wheels. It has endless streets of curious little storefronts and cafes, interspersed with 15^th-century temples. It has a university with a gorgeous campus, right in town. There’s a mountain range just to one side of the city, lush and jungle-y and close enough to touch. There is a modern shopping district with hip restaurants and bars. There is so much to do and see and taste and smell. It’s everything that’s great about Thailand, polished up by an intelligent young population. I just love it. 

 

In this video I mention taking a spot in a temple behind a guy. It turned out it was a meditation class. After a while, they stood up and started doing this walking meditation thing. I tried to follow along but had no idea what I was doing, so the teacher came over to me and showed me what to do. I was kind of embarrassed, having jumped into their class, but it was very cool to learn something new.

We’ve been here four months now, and I definitely feel like we’re settling in. I’ve come to terms with some things we just cannot find here, and I’m okay with it. A co-worker said she misses dill pickles. It looked it up, and it turns out they’re almost easier to make than to buy. I made a batch and they’re so good I don’t know if I’ll ever buy them again. I also made my own yogurt (which they have here, but it’s expensive and way too sweet) and it turned out great! I’ve lamented artichoke hearts, and I just realized the other day that there are no grapevine leaves here in any form—stuffed, raw, in a jar. No dolmades for a long while. Corn tortillas will taste amazing when I finally get them again. (A side note: I did find them in Chiang Mai and bought three packages of them! Then I left them on the bus. Wasn’t meant to be, I guess.)

But it’s dawning on me that there are other things we’re missing, too. We don’t have a mailbox full of flyers and special offers. There are almost no commercials on TV. I don’t feel like anything is assaulting my senses and screaming for my attention; I can actually hear myself think. We never hear crappy Clear Channel music, anywhere, ever. (We could stay here thirty more years and still return home to hear “Free Fallin” and “Better Man” on heavy rotation. “Under the Bridge.” John Mellencamp’s boring “Cherry Bomb.”) And watching the American outrages du jour unfold online from this distance makes me realize that we’re missing out on the shame police. There are no scolds here, no finger-wagging know-it-alls.

America.

Not that I’ve seen, anyway—maybe there are, and since I don’t speak Thai, well…? But it seems like a uniquely American pastime, particularly with parenting. Should, you should, you need to, you should have. I feel like I’m at a safe enough distance to throw up my middle finger from twenty thousand miles away. I’m not saying Thailand is perfect and America sucks; it’s not that black & white. But it’s very strange that I feel more free living in an actual police state. 

I saw this article recently about stressed-out parenting in America (that's a link there, it's hard to see). The article is spot-on, but then… I only read through about 50 comments, but after realizing that half of those said “QUIT WHINING,” I closed the screen, depressed. It’s that whole “you’re on your own, pal” attitude that makes it so unappealing. America’s mean, isolated, bootstrap culture. No examining of the problem, just "quit whining." "Shut up and get back to work, you chose this." Everyone chiming in with unhelpful words instead of actual helping hands. Even just a little empathy would go a long way. 

It doesn’t escape me that I criticize that culture of isolation, and yet I’ve chosen to isolate myself from everything and everyone I know. But it’s a different kind of isolation. The systemic isolation in the US is sad—everyone feeling like they need to hoard their stuff, fortify their castles, actually arm themselves to “defend” them. I listen to the other expats here talk about various dramas going on back home, and they’re usually relieved that they don’t have to deal with any of it. Some of us feel like we’re getting away with something. I know a couple of women who no longer have to listen to people ask them why they’re single. Another one moved from a beautiful but violent country where she had a few toxic relatives and through-the-roof stress. A few others, well, Nick and I can only speculate what kind of stuff they’ve left behind. Of course, we all have our own problems here, but they’re ours. I’m reminded of this commercial quite often—I used to love it just as a runner, but now it has even more meaning.

Sorry this was kind of a downer. Being able to hear myself think means that there’s lots of opportunity to do just that. My next post will be on random cultural differences, much lighter and more fun.

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.