Well, it's my freakin' birthday (*grumble, grumble*....back in MY day, we didn't HAVE these newfangled contraptions like blogs and Facebook!! Hey, you kids! Getoffamylawn*!). I am 28 years old. This is the first birthday where things like "biological clock" and "marriage" and "white picket fence" have jumped ferociously to mind and become active parts of my lexicon. Sheesh. I spent a good 30 minutes examining my face last night. Four new wrinkles on either side of my mouth. Half a dozen new age spots. Some baby wrinkles forming between my eyebrows. Yikes. My face has aged considerably since my last birthday (in spite of never leaving the house without SPF nine million slathered everywhere and, you know, reapplying throughout the day), and the only way my life could have changed more in the year between birthdays is if I had spontaneously changed my sex or grown a second head.
28, I embrace you with open arms. You are, as Peter tells me, a mathematically perfect number.
I'm going to use the rest of this post to type up something that I had written in my pen-and-paper journal. I'm not sharing this because I necessarily want to turn this blog into a super intimate play-by-play of my internal journeys. I, in fact, have no interest in doing that (well, within reason....I mean, I have had no trouble being a pretty open book thus far, but there are quite a few things that I like to keep private. That's where the pen-and-paper journal comes in!!). The reason why I DO want to share some very personal things is that I think a lot of the growth that I have experienced recently (and by recently, I mean that I think the chain of events was put in motion awhile ago, but I am only now able to fully appreciate and experience it) is directly related to the fact that I am living overseas and making travel a priority. Lately I've been drawn to stories about women who are living in the perfect house with the perfect husband and leading what appears to be a perfect life. And then the bottom drops out. As the heroine's life slumps on the floor around her like so many discarded silk dresses, she decides to pick herself up and start TRAVELING. And it is through traveling that she finds herself and discovers all of the joy that life has to offer. Well, I'm very lucky that I get to do that NOW. While my life had had a portion of its bottom drop out before I moved overseas (and, yes, it was a bit of a catalyst for my decision-making process to move halfway around the globe), I don't have to wait until my husband leaves me for a younger woman to forge a path in this world and discover myself. I can do it in reverse: travel first and live a cozy family life second. Minus, you know, all of the divorce stuff. Stories like Eat, Pray, Love (omg....LOVES!!!), Under the Tuscan Sun, and even Thelma and Louise show what travel can do for a woman's soul. I just wanted to share a little of what it has done for mine.
So this is the cheesiest statement ever, but what the hell: last night, along with counting my wrinkles and age spots, I also counted my blessings.
Commence vomiting.
Oh, and this is completely unedited, so please forgive any grammatical errors or less-than-dazzling word choices.
Journal entry written on 2/26/08
As my last journal documents, I've had many ups and downs since I've been here. Job frustrations, frustration with being so far away from people I love, frustration with finding my own inner peace. My path. My heart's desire. It has not been an easy road, to say the least, but I'm glad that I'm starting a new journal as things have shifted in a powerful, beautiful, new direction. Fresh new pages for a fresh new phase of my journey. I don't know how it happened or when it happened. Perhaps it's a ball that's been rolling for awhile and just needed to dislodge itself from the navy blue muck of stuckness and questioning and doubt. And transitions are tough. Moving halfway around the world is TOUGH and NOT for the faint of heart, and I really don't think I could have anticipated how hard it would actually be. But recently the two ton elephant that has been sitting on my chest for the last few months and siphoning the positivity out of me to wet his parched throat has stretched his legs, shaken off the sedentary dust that had settled in the creases of his skin, and wandered off in search of his own personal Serengeti. My lungs are re-inflating and my ribs are popping back into place like one of those foam stress toys that slowly returns to its original form--if a bit wrinkled--after being smushed and squeezed and flattened.
I am the recipient of many gifts.
And while many of these gifts had quite possibly been laid at my feet for quite some time, I chose to trip on them, fall down beside them, and skin my knee on them as the (albeit pink and sparkly) fishbowl over my head distorted my vision and made my shoulders stoop under its weight. But now my lungs can accept the air that fills them. My eyes are adapting to details and smaller, more subtle shades.
I am receiving many gifts.
*Thanks to Nina for that!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Happy Birthday!
It is my mom's birthday today (Feb. 26th), which means that it is my birthday tomorrow (boo....I HATE birthdays......). In my humble opinion (and experience), I think I can say that mother-daughter relationships are Complicated. By "Complicated," I don't mean that they are messed up or bad in any way. They are just Complicated, even if they are also Loving and Warm and Special. My mother and I are certainly not exceptions to this rule. Not by a long shot. However......
I would like to thank my mom for some things. The rest of this entry may seem cheesy and cliche and like a Miss America pageant, but I think it's safe to say that my target audience here is only one person.
I would like to thank my mom for teaching me about beauty and art. I would like to thank her for teaching me that it is OK to take care of myself and stand up for myself. I would like to thank her for never judging my spiritual explorations, even when it meant that I accidentally spilled wax all over the carpet after leaving the candle burning a little too long during meditation. I would like to thank her for the care packages that she would send me when I was homesick, and for always listening to my poetry. I would like to thank her for the time that she had to wire money to me in Vienna because my stuff had been stolen on the night train. I would like to thank her for the time that she came to the airport to give me my car keys because my purse had been stolen in New York and my flight just happened to be stopping through Minneapolis on the way to Phoenix. I would like to thank her for teaching me to trust that things always end up working out. I would like to thank her for reminding me that borrowing trouble, and worrying about things that haven't happened yet, is a waste of time and precious energy. I would like to thank her for not getting mad at me after I crashed the car into the side of the garage before I even got my driver's license. I would like to thank her for taking care of my grandmother when she got sick. I would like to thank her for coming to my graduation from grad school, even though she had a million difficulties in her own life at that moment in time. I would like to thank her for being an amazing example of how to be a good listener.
Happy birthday, Mommy. I love you!!
I would like to thank my mom for some things. The rest of this entry may seem cheesy and cliche and like a Miss America pageant, but I think it's safe to say that my target audience here is only one person.
I would like to thank my mom for teaching me about beauty and art. I would like to thank her for teaching me that it is OK to take care of myself and stand up for myself. I would like to thank her for never judging my spiritual explorations, even when it meant that I accidentally spilled wax all over the carpet after leaving the candle burning a little too long during meditation. I would like to thank her for the care packages that she would send me when I was homesick, and for always listening to my poetry. I would like to thank her for the time that she had to wire money to me in Vienna because my stuff had been stolen on the night train. I would like to thank her for the time that she came to the airport to give me my car keys because my purse had been stolen in New York and my flight just happened to be stopping through Minneapolis on the way to Phoenix. I would like to thank her for teaching me to trust that things always end up working out. I would like to thank her for reminding me that borrowing trouble, and worrying about things that haven't happened yet, is a waste of time and precious energy. I would like to thank her for not getting mad at me after I crashed the car into the side of the garage before I even got my driver's license. I would like to thank her for taking care of my grandmother when she got sick. I would like to thank her for coming to my graduation from grad school, even though she had a million difficulties in her own life at that moment in time. I would like to thank her for being an amazing example of how to be a good listener.
Happy birthday, Mommy. I love you!!
The Country Music Taxi
December 17th found me in the backseat of a taxi cab at 3:00 in the morning. I was headed to the airport. My eyes were blurry from lack of sleep and my spine lacked the strength to produce little more than a slouch against the black vinyl seat. I had a very full suitcase in the trunk and was constantly checking my travel document holder to make sure that my passport hadn't suddenly evaporated into thin air.
I was headed back to the U.S. for a month, and I hadn't been back in five months. I was feeling all kinds of contradictory emotions that had created a fibrous knot in my stomach. I was excited about coming home, seeing friends and family, decorating the Christmas tree, and snuggling with my boyfriend. I was nervous, though, that all of these familiar things would somehow look suddenly alien to me. I worried that the landscape of home would seem startlingly foreign after I had trained my gaze to glide effortlessly along the horizons of Southeast Asia. I worried that English would sound harsh and brutal after my ears had grown so accustomed to the salty song of Thai--a language that ebbs and flows without any sharp corners or jolting syllables. I worried that my tongue would be lonely without spice and rice and coconut ice cream and lychee martinis.
I sighed heavily and the taxi driver looked me over in the rear view mirror before asking the standard question: "Where you from?" And I gave him the standard answer: "The United States of America" (I've found that if you just say "United States," about half of the people don't know what you are talking about; if you say "America," the other half has no idea what you are talking about. I just found that it's easier to give the whole answer). "Oh! America! I love America! I wan' go to America!" I smiled and nodded, wondering if I would have been able to make the same statement with such ardor at that particular moment in time. We talked a little bit about George Bush, and I mentioned that I didn't like him. At all. Not even a little bit. I think he was surprised by this--in Thailand, it is an absolute taboo and cardinal sin to utter a negative word about any of the members of the royal family. And here I was, standing firmly on my soap box (or rather, slouching on my soap box) and calling my president "bad." After a puzzled silence, he looked at me once again in the rear view mirror and said "I have something you like."
He popped in a tape and turned the volume all the way up. Out of the fuzzy speakers came a country song with an incredibly lively beat and some lyrics about Texarkana. He started tapping the steering wheel before moving his hand to his denim-covered thigh and full on slapping his leg to the beat. We drove by gigantic billboards reading "Long Live the King" that were plastered with pictures of Thailand's beloved monarch. Behind me was Bangkok, with its stray dogs and street vendors and tuk tuks and gentle pace. I was listening to country music and two cultures seemed to blend and dissolve together and nourish one another in the pink belly of that taxi. And I found this unexpected splash of English to be comforting and familiar and not at all out of place.
The fibrous knot in my stomach began to unwind and stretch stretch stretch. Daylight began to hang at the edge of the horizon, making the boundary between land and sky fluid and impermanent. I joined the taxi driver in tapping to the beat of the song and grinned the whole rest of the way to the airport.
I was headed back to the U.S. for a month, and I hadn't been back in five months. I was feeling all kinds of contradictory emotions that had created a fibrous knot in my stomach. I was excited about coming home, seeing friends and family, decorating the Christmas tree, and snuggling with my boyfriend. I was nervous, though, that all of these familiar things would somehow look suddenly alien to me. I worried that the landscape of home would seem startlingly foreign after I had trained my gaze to glide effortlessly along the horizons of Southeast Asia. I worried that English would sound harsh and brutal after my ears had grown so accustomed to the salty song of Thai--a language that ebbs and flows without any sharp corners or jolting syllables. I worried that my tongue would be lonely without spice and rice and coconut ice cream and lychee martinis.
I sighed heavily and the taxi driver looked me over in the rear view mirror before asking the standard question: "Where you from?" And I gave him the standard answer: "The United States of America" (I've found that if you just say "United States," about half of the people don't know what you are talking about; if you say "America," the other half has no idea what you are talking about. I just found that it's easier to give the whole answer). "Oh! America! I love America! I wan' go to America!" I smiled and nodded, wondering if I would have been able to make the same statement with such ardor at that particular moment in time. We talked a little bit about George Bush, and I mentioned that I didn't like him. At all. Not even a little bit. I think he was surprised by this--in Thailand, it is an absolute taboo and cardinal sin to utter a negative word about any of the members of the royal family. And here I was, standing firmly on my soap box (or rather, slouching on my soap box) and calling my president "bad." After a puzzled silence, he looked at me once again in the rear view mirror and said "I have something you like."
He popped in a tape and turned the volume all the way up. Out of the fuzzy speakers came a country song with an incredibly lively beat and some lyrics about Texarkana. He started tapping the steering wheel before moving his hand to his denim-covered thigh and full on slapping his leg to the beat. We drove by gigantic billboards reading "Long Live the King" that were plastered with pictures of Thailand's beloved monarch. Behind me was Bangkok, with its stray dogs and street vendors and tuk tuks and gentle pace. I was listening to country music and two cultures seemed to blend and dissolve together and nourish one another in the pink belly of that taxi. And I found this unexpected splash of English to be comforting and familiar and not at all out of place.
The fibrous knot in my stomach began to unwind and stretch stretch stretch. Daylight began to hang at the edge of the horizon, making the boundary between land and sky fluid and impermanent. I joined the taxi driver in tapping to the beat of the song and grinned the whole rest of the way to the airport.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Five shades of brain dead.....
Last night I had a fabulous time with my friends N. and H. Absolutely fabulous. However, limoncello and vodka+a couple of bottles of wine+talking until 4 a.m.+having to work today (I got here early, I might add....) on only four hours of sleep=SHOOT ME. I really, really, really just want this day to be over. My best friend in the entire universe and her adorable hubby are arriving in Bangkok tonight. I can't wait to see them. I just don't know if I will be able to keep from crying with glee and throwing rose petals all around the international terminal at the airport. So....I'm a wee bit distracted and my thoughts are having a hard time working their way through the hangover goo that is the inside of my head.
So....I figured today would be a good day for a little survey.
Alrighty.......
1. What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?
Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia.
2. Cable or Satellite?
Neither. I have the same philosophy with television that I do with candy: I love it, I don't keep it in my house. I do, however, watch DVDS.
3. Favorite video game?
Anything with Mario.
4. Do you have to sleep with a fan on at night?
Sure do.
5. Your feelings on global warming?
I think it is a huge and scary problem. I have been drastically reducing the amount of plastic that I use in order to, you know, reduce my carbon footprint. Plastic is evil.
6. Do you still have a VCR somewhere?
Nope.
7. Been on a sailboat?
Yes. Peter is becoming quite the accomplished sailor, and I can't wait to learn to sail and then we can have picnics on a boat in the middle of Boston Harbor.
8. Two of your best friends are fighting. Your reaction?
My two best friends live on opposite sides of the world from one another. I'd be shocked as hell.
9. Home Depot or Lowes?
Home Depot.
10. Beer or Hard Liquor?
Uff da....did you really have to mention alcohol right now??
11. Best movie you’ve seen recently?
Juno!
12. Would you walk across broken glass for $100?
Um, no.
13. Your feelings on dolphins?
I think they are cute and adorable. They are also, so I've heard, the only other creatures besides humans that have sex for pleasure.
14. Would you ever rob a bank?
Nope.
15. Do you plan out your day before it begins?
Yeah, I'm a big list-maker. I start making my mental list before I even open my eyes. I'm trying to replace that with meditation.
16. What kind of digital camera do you have?
Canon Elph.
17. Can you fall asleep with your eyes open?
Not only can I not fall asleep with my eyes open, but I can't sleep if there is any light in the room whatsoever. I actually sleep with a big ol' sleep mask every night. Darkness is my friend.....
18. Winter or Summer?
As it gets hotter and hotter in Thailand, I must admit that I am missing those Minnesota winters.
19. Your ex’s car breaks down and they ask you for a lift. Your response?
Gosh, um, I'd love to help you but it's a looooong plane ride back to the States....
20. Your feelings on Britney?
She needs some major help. It sounds like she's finally getting it (hopefully).
21. Do you go to the gym regularly?
I don't have a gym membership here, but I did go regularly when I had one. Now I swim every day and take belly dance classes.
22. Ever play with model trains?
No.
23. You’ve just bought a new house. What color will you paint the walls in the living room?
I guess it depends on what I've selected as the color scheme. In general, though, I'm not a huge fan of yellow rooms. Someone told me a long time ago that yellow makes you go all insane. It's probably not true, but for some reason it stuck and it kinda soured me on yellow.
24. Best subject in school?
Anything language arts-oriented.
25. What are your goals for this year?
1. I want to not be such a worry wart, particularly about things that I can't control.
2. Pay off the rest of my credit card debt.
3. Floss daily.
4. Build an amazing preschool program.
26. Do you spread false rumors about people just for the hell of it?
I'm, um, not in high school (unlike everyone else who has ever taken this survey), so no.
27. Do you consider yourself religious?
I would say I'm "spiritual."
28. Internet Explorer or Firefox?
Firefox.
29. Ever play online poker?
Nope.
30. For real money?
That's a sentence fragment. I don't really know what you're talking about.
31. Describe the first house you lived in.
We lived in a house in Minneapolis that had some amazing paisley wallpaper. Even after all of these years I STILL totally remember that wallpaper. The house even had a perfect little picket fence and a crazy next door neighbor who called my parents "the shanty Irish."
32. Do you want to kick someone in the face right now?
I kinda want to kick myself in the face for drinking too much and staying out too late last night.....
33. Favorite sport to watch?
Soccer (or football as it's known everywhere else in the world....)
34. You see someone running around naked in the street. Your reaction?
If it was someone who was screaming in terror and running away from someone, I would call the police. Otherwise I would probably cross the street and keep my gaze straight ahead.
35. How much syrup do you put on your waffles and/or pancakes for breakfast?
Not much. I'm not a huge syrup fan, unless it's the maple syrup that you can only get at a specific store near Eagle River in Wisconsin. And only if it's covering the sourdough pancakes that Peter makes at the cabin up there.
36. Favorite junk food?
Sour cream and onion potato chips.
37. Bottled water. Yes or no?
Non-bottled water is not an option here in Thailand. I do try to be careful because there are no options here for recycling plastic bottles, and drinking bottled water all day long can lead to a lot of discarded plastic. I try to keep a jug of water in the fridge and drink out of glasses instead.
38. Do you have a lot of candles in your room?
I used to have a ton in my apartment in Phoenix. I looooove candles. I think they make a place feel like home. I haven't bought any candles yet for my new condo.
39. Are the files in your computer well organized or all over the place?
Well-organized. I am an obsessive filer, be it with computer files or actual pieces of paper.
40. Are there dogs barking in your neighborhood right now?
Actually there are a ton of stray dogs that hang out near my condo, and I hear them barking (and even whimpering!! I can't handle it when they do that!!) all night long. Sometimes they'll hear a siren and all start howling in unison.
41. Where would you most like to be right now?
On the beach with Peter. On a snowy mountain with Peter. In a cardboard box with Peter. Anywhere with Peter.
42. Do you own a sleeping bag?
Several, though they are not here.
43. UFC. Entertaining or stupid?
What's UFC???
44. Favorite reality show?
The Girls Next Door. Seriously. I LOVE that effing show. I'm not gonna lie--I feel like it's wrong to like it as much as I do. But, you know, if liking that show is wrong, then I don't wanna be right.....
45. What was the first CD you ever bought?
Wow....I don't remember....I think it might have been the Cranberries CD that I bought when I was in middle school.
46. Are all infomercials completely pointless?
Yes, unless they have Dionne Warwick. I don't think anything with Dionne is pointless. Seriously.
47. Who are you voting for in 2008?
Come ooooooooooon Hillary!!!!!!
48. If money was no object, what car would you drive?
I would buy another Volkswagen Beetle. I had a lime green one named Petunia when I lived in Phoenix and I sold her right before moving overseas. I loved that car and can't wait to buy another one in the near future.
49. Last 5 played songs in your Itunes playlist?
1. The Sweetest Thing (Wyclef)
2. Beauty Queen (Ben's Brother)
3. Happy Everafter is in your eyes (Ben Harper)
4. Tell Him (Lauryn Hill)
5. Drum Solo (belly dance music)
50. Was this survey random enough for you?
Um, not any more random than they usually are. What IS random is that it just occurred to me (speaking of hangover goo) that I went to college with a girl named Emily who insisted that everyone call her "goo." But wait, it gets so much better: she spelled it like this: Goux. Anyway.....
So....I figured today would be a good day for a little survey.
Alrighty.......
1. What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?
Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia.
2. Cable or Satellite?
Neither. I have the same philosophy with television that I do with candy: I love it, I don't keep it in my house. I do, however, watch DVDS.
3. Favorite video game?
Anything with Mario.
4. Do you have to sleep with a fan on at night?
Sure do.
5. Your feelings on global warming?
I think it is a huge and scary problem. I have been drastically reducing the amount of plastic that I use in order to, you know, reduce my carbon footprint. Plastic is evil.
6. Do you still have a VCR somewhere?
Nope.
7. Been on a sailboat?
Yes. Peter is becoming quite the accomplished sailor, and I can't wait to learn to sail and then we can have picnics on a boat in the middle of Boston Harbor.
8. Two of your best friends are fighting. Your reaction?
My two best friends live on opposite sides of the world from one another. I'd be shocked as hell.
9. Home Depot or Lowes?
Home Depot.
10. Beer or Hard Liquor?
Uff da....did you really have to mention alcohol right now??
11. Best movie you’ve seen recently?
Juno!
12. Would you walk across broken glass for $100?
Um, no.
13. Your feelings on dolphins?
I think they are cute and adorable. They are also, so I've heard, the only other creatures besides humans that have sex for pleasure.
14. Would you ever rob a bank?
Nope.
15. Do you plan out your day before it begins?
Yeah, I'm a big list-maker. I start making my mental list before I even open my eyes. I'm trying to replace that with meditation.
16. What kind of digital camera do you have?
Canon Elph.
17. Can you fall asleep with your eyes open?
Not only can I not fall asleep with my eyes open, but I can't sleep if there is any light in the room whatsoever. I actually sleep with a big ol' sleep mask every night. Darkness is my friend.....
18. Winter or Summer?
As it gets hotter and hotter in Thailand, I must admit that I am missing those Minnesota winters.
19. Your ex’s car breaks down and they ask you for a lift. Your response?
Gosh, um, I'd love to help you but it's a looooong plane ride back to the States....
20. Your feelings on Britney?
She needs some major help. It sounds like she's finally getting it (hopefully).
21. Do you go to the gym regularly?
I don't have a gym membership here, but I did go regularly when I had one. Now I swim every day and take belly dance classes.
22. Ever play with model trains?
No.
23. You’ve just bought a new house. What color will you paint the walls in the living room?
I guess it depends on what I've selected as the color scheme. In general, though, I'm not a huge fan of yellow rooms. Someone told me a long time ago that yellow makes you go all insane. It's probably not true, but for some reason it stuck and it kinda soured me on yellow.
24. Best subject in school?
Anything language arts-oriented.
25. What are your goals for this year?
1. I want to not be such a worry wart, particularly about things that I can't control.
2. Pay off the rest of my credit card debt.
3. Floss daily.
4. Build an amazing preschool program.
26. Do you spread false rumors about people just for the hell of it?
I'm, um, not in high school (unlike everyone else who has ever taken this survey), so no.
27. Do you consider yourself religious?
I would say I'm "spiritual."
28. Internet Explorer or Firefox?
Firefox.
29. Ever play online poker?
Nope.
30. For real money?
That's a sentence fragment. I don't really know what you're talking about.
31. Describe the first house you lived in.
We lived in a house in Minneapolis that had some amazing paisley wallpaper. Even after all of these years I STILL totally remember that wallpaper. The house even had a perfect little picket fence and a crazy next door neighbor who called my parents "the shanty Irish."
32. Do you want to kick someone in the face right now?
I kinda want to kick myself in the face for drinking too much and staying out too late last night.....
33. Favorite sport to watch?
Soccer (or football as it's known everywhere else in the world....)
34. You see someone running around naked in the street. Your reaction?
If it was someone who was screaming in terror and running away from someone, I would call the police. Otherwise I would probably cross the street and keep my gaze straight ahead.
35. How much syrup do you put on your waffles and/or pancakes for breakfast?
Not much. I'm not a huge syrup fan, unless it's the maple syrup that you can only get at a specific store near Eagle River in Wisconsin. And only if it's covering the sourdough pancakes that Peter makes at the cabin up there.
36. Favorite junk food?
Sour cream and onion potato chips.
37. Bottled water. Yes or no?
Non-bottled water is not an option here in Thailand. I do try to be careful because there are no options here for recycling plastic bottles, and drinking bottled water all day long can lead to a lot of discarded plastic. I try to keep a jug of water in the fridge and drink out of glasses instead.
38. Do you have a lot of candles in your room?
I used to have a ton in my apartment in Phoenix. I looooove candles. I think they make a place feel like home. I haven't bought any candles yet for my new condo.
39. Are the files in your computer well organized or all over the place?
Well-organized. I am an obsessive filer, be it with computer files or actual pieces of paper.
40. Are there dogs barking in your neighborhood right now?
Actually there are a ton of stray dogs that hang out near my condo, and I hear them barking (and even whimpering!! I can't handle it when they do that!!) all night long. Sometimes they'll hear a siren and all start howling in unison.
41. Where would you most like to be right now?
On the beach with Peter. On a snowy mountain with Peter. In a cardboard box with Peter. Anywhere with Peter.
42. Do you own a sleeping bag?
Several, though they are not here.
43. UFC. Entertaining or stupid?
What's UFC???
44. Favorite reality show?
The Girls Next Door. Seriously. I LOVE that effing show. I'm not gonna lie--I feel like it's wrong to like it as much as I do. But, you know, if liking that show is wrong, then I don't wanna be right.....
45. What was the first CD you ever bought?
Wow....I don't remember....I think it might have been the Cranberries CD that I bought when I was in middle school.
46. Are all infomercials completely pointless?
Yes, unless they have Dionne Warwick. I don't think anything with Dionne is pointless. Seriously.
47. Who are you voting for in 2008?
Come ooooooooooon Hillary!!!!!!
48. If money was no object, what car would you drive?
I would buy another Volkswagen Beetle. I had a lime green one named Petunia when I lived in Phoenix and I sold her right before moving overseas. I loved that car and can't wait to buy another one in the near future.
49. Last 5 played songs in your Itunes playlist?
1. The Sweetest Thing (Wyclef)
2. Beauty Queen (Ben's Brother)
3. Happy Everafter is in your eyes (Ben Harper)
4. Tell Him (Lauryn Hill)
5. Drum Solo (belly dance music)
50. Was this survey random enough for you?
Um, not any more random than they usually are. What IS random is that it just occurred to me (speaking of hangover goo) that I went to college with a girl named Emily who insisted that everyone call her "goo." But wait, it gets so much better: she spelled it like this: Goux. Anyway.....
Friday, February 15, 2008
Ubiquitous things that mystify me....
1.) The lone shoe by the side of the road. Why is it that every single road in the entire world has at least ONE lone shoe just chillin' off to the side? How does the shoe get there? Are there people with some sort of disorder that compels them to remove one shoe and discard it whilst driving? Is there some sort of road deity to whom everyone should give an offering of one shoe? Are there magical shoemaking elves who bring a solitary shoe to the side of the road in the middle of the night? WTF??
2.) Monkeys are not native to the United States. Neither are elephants. These things can be found in abundance in Thailand. Certain species of spider live only in the desert and giraffes can only be found wild in Africa. Why oh why then can pigeons, rats, and cockroaches be found EVERYWHERE???? From New York City to Tokyo, these creatures thrive wherever there is an urban jungle. They don't seem to be all that particular about the climate or the types of discarded food on which they feast. As long as there's pavement and some trash, sign these puppies up. And, unlike other more delightful species (e.g. horses), I have a hard time believing that these guys were transported by settlers or explorers or those parties interested in colonization or what have you. Were they stowaways on ships? Do they just spontaneously appear whenever there are diseases in need of being carried?? WTF??
Does anyone have the answers to these (not so meaningful) questions? Is all of this just common knowledge and I happened to have missed that day in elementary school?
2.) Monkeys are not native to the United States. Neither are elephants. These things can be found in abundance in Thailand. Certain species of spider live only in the desert and giraffes can only be found wild in Africa. Why oh why then can pigeons, rats, and cockroaches be found EVERYWHERE???? From New York City to Tokyo, these creatures thrive wherever there is an urban jungle. They don't seem to be all that particular about the climate or the types of discarded food on which they feast. As long as there's pavement and some trash, sign these puppies up. And, unlike other more delightful species (e.g. horses), I have a hard time believing that these guys were transported by settlers or explorers or those parties interested in colonization or what have you. Were they stowaways on ships? Do they just spontaneously appear whenever there are diseases in need of being carried?? WTF??
Does anyone have the answers to these (not so meaningful) questions? Is all of this just common knowledge and I happened to have missed that day in elementary school?
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Perhaps the most interesting excuse I've ever heard....
D.'s mom (D., by the way, being the YUMMIEST child in the entire universe--save for OlderNiece L. and YoungerNiece C.--and I very often have to remind myself that it would be highly unprofessional to try and eat him like the sweet little cupcake that he is) when she came to pick him up yesterday:
Miss Brooke! I'm so sorry I'm late! I have diarrhea!!
I think she took the words right out of Sarah Silverman's mouth.
When I taught in the U.S. I heard a lot of excuses for parental lateness (just got out of jail....long line at the welfare office....fell asleep by accident after working three different jobs in order to try to put food on the table), and some of them were downright heartbreaking. This was a first for the diarrhea, and dare I say it was slightly, you know, refreshing.
Miss Brooke! I'm so sorry I'm late! I have diarrhea!!
I think she took the words right out of Sarah Silverman's mouth.
When I taught in the U.S. I heard a lot of excuses for parental lateness (just got out of jail....long line at the welfare office....fell asleep by accident after working three different jobs in order to try to put food on the table), and some of them were downright heartbreaking. This was a first for the diarrhea, and dare I say it was slightly, you know, refreshing.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Nausea Taxi
I'm back on the parasite diet after my trip to Cambodia (by the way, it was totally worth it and I would do it all over again!!!) and was feeling especially terrible after running some errands the other night, so I decided to hop in a cab and go home. While in the cab, my mom called me on my cell phone:
Mom: Hi, Tiny Walkers*! What are you doing?
Me: Well, I'm in a taxi right now, but I'm about to go home and get violently ill. How are you?
I think my driver understood enough English to know what I was talking about because he looked at me in the rearview mirror with a pair of wide, startled, deer eyes and then proceeded to drive at warp speed through some very heavy traffic. We were jolting our way between cars and around motorcycles with the driver speeding up and then slamming on the brakes every five seconds. We also almost died several times, with one memorable moment occurring when a giant silver whale of a van decided to inch its way onto the main road from a side street. Clearly the van had no idea that the little pink taxi would prove to be such a formidable foe. We came to an abrupt halt and I think my stomach actually left my body temporarily before slamming back into place and pulling the nausea around it like a slimy, protective blanket. Suffice it to say it was a less than pleasant ride, and made for a rather difficult phone conversation:
Me: Cambodia was--oof--really amazing and--whimper--I had a really great time--holy mary mother of god--I went to some incredible museums and--yikes--ate some really good food but I'm not feeling too well at the moment--eep!--y'know mom, I think I have to call you back--urp--because I might hurl right here in this taxi.
This, of course, served only to spur the driver on and inspire him to drive even more quickly and recklessly until finally we got a few yards from the driveway of my building and.....we were stuck at a red light. For a really, really long time. The driver nervously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and my stomach gurgled progressively more loudly.
When we finally came to a screeching halt just in front of my elevator, he just said "mai pen rai!"--forget about it!--as I fumbled through my coin purse in search of three more coins. He waved me out of the taxi and sped off without his three coins, clearly happy to be rid of me and grateful that I didn't spew all over his impeccably clean taxi.
In retrospect, he really did me a tremendous favor by getting me home as quickly as humanly possible and doing his best to bring some efficiency to the thick clots of traffic on Bangkok's molasses roads. And I like to think that he made the extra effort because he really did care about my well-being. Or maybe he just didn't want to spend the rest of the night vacuuming vomit.
Meh....call me sentimental, but I'm gonna go with the former on this one.
*Tiny Walkers is the nickname I've had since, well, I first started walking. I'm still Tiny Walkers almost 28 years later, and I will most likely be Tiny Walkers forever.
Mom: Hi, Tiny Walkers*! What are you doing?
Me: Well, I'm in a taxi right now, but I'm about to go home and get violently ill. How are you?
I think my driver understood enough English to know what I was talking about because he looked at me in the rearview mirror with a pair of wide, startled, deer eyes and then proceeded to drive at warp speed through some very heavy traffic. We were jolting our way between cars and around motorcycles with the driver speeding up and then slamming on the brakes every five seconds. We also almost died several times, with one memorable moment occurring when a giant silver whale of a van decided to inch its way onto the main road from a side street. Clearly the van had no idea that the little pink taxi would prove to be such a formidable foe. We came to an abrupt halt and I think my stomach actually left my body temporarily before slamming back into place and pulling the nausea around it like a slimy, protective blanket. Suffice it to say it was a less than pleasant ride, and made for a rather difficult phone conversation:
Me: Cambodia was--oof--really amazing and--whimper--I had a really great time--holy mary mother of god--I went to some incredible museums and--yikes--ate some really good food but I'm not feeling too well at the moment--eep!--y'know mom, I think I have to call you back--urp--because I might hurl right here in this taxi.
This, of course, served only to spur the driver on and inspire him to drive even more quickly and recklessly until finally we got a few yards from the driveway of my building and.....we were stuck at a red light. For a really, really long time. The driver nervously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and my stomach gurgled progressively more loudly.
When we finally came to a screeching halt just in front of my elevator, he just said "mai pen rai!"--forget about it!--as I fumbled through my coin purse in search of three more coins. He waved me out of the taxi and sped off without his three coins, clearly happy to be rid of me and grateful that I didn't spew all over his impeccably clean taxi.
In retrospect, he really did me a tremendous favor by getting me home as quickly as humanly possible and doing his best to bring some efficiency to the thick clots of traffic on Bangkok's molasses roads. And I like to think that he made the extra effort because he really did care about my well-being. Or maybe he just didn't want to spend the rest of the night vacuuming vomit.
Meh....call me sentimental, but I'm gonna go with the former on this one.
*Tiny Walkers is the nickname I've had since, well, I first started walking. I'm still Tiny Walkers almost 28 years later, and I will most likely be Tiny Walkers forever.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
To all the ladies in the place with style and grace....
I had an absolutely amazing time in Cambodia. Amazing. Cambodia is like my own personal Bodhi tree. I learn so much each time I go there. It has many, many gifts to offer. I love it love it love it.
I'm incredibly stressed out right now about everything on my to do list. We will be starting a new program next week (yikes!) that doesn't feel anywhere CLOSE to being ready, and my best friend and her husband are coming in a few days to stay in my (only partially moved-in) condo. I'm doing my best to get rid of the cockroaches before they get here. And, no, my newly renovated condo is not at all dirty. I also have yet to utilize the kitchen, and therefore have yet to make a mess. Cockroaches are just a part of the scenery here in Southeast Asia.
At any rate, I'm feeling too frazzled to write anything of substance at the moment, so I will just leave you with this wonderful quote by Julia Allison:
Women should be allowed to be sexy and still be smart. To be smart and still be silly. To be a girl’s girl and still love to flirt; to love sex and not be labeled a whore; to be ambitious and assertive and not called a bitch; to be lighthearted and not seen as naive; to be interested in self-growth without being dismissed as self-centered; to be strong without being perfect; to be unhappy without feeling hopeless; and to be happy without feeling guilty.
Many thanks to Mayumi for sharing this quote on her blog!! The rest of Julia's article can be found here.
I'm incredibly stressed out right now about everything on my to do list. We will be starting a new program next week (yikes!) that doesn't feel anywhere CLOSE to being ready, and my best friend and her husband are coming in a few days to stay in my (only partially moved-in) condo. I'm doing my best to get rid of the cockroaches before they get here. And, no, my newly renovated condo is not at all dirty. I also have yet to utilize the kitchen, and therefore have yet to make a mess. Cockroaches are just a part of the scenery here in Southeast Asia.
At any rate, I'm feeling too frazzled to write anything of substance at the moment, so I will just leave you with this wonderful quote by Julia Allison:
Women should be allowed to be sexy and still be smart. To be smart and still be silly. To be a girl’s girl and still love to flirt; to love sex and not be labeled a whore; to be ambitious and assertive and not called a bitch; to be lighthearted and not seen as naive; to be interested in self-growth without being dismissed as self-centered; to be strong without being perfect; to be unhappy without feeling hopeless; and to be happy without feeling guilty.
Many thanks to Mayumi for sharing this quote on her blog!! The rest of Julia's article can be found here.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
The parasite diet
I need to start this post with an Editor's Note: In my previous post about Cambodia, I mentioned something about the Mekong River. Phnom Penh is not, in fact, located on the Mekong River. It is located somewhat near the Mekong, but not on it. It is, in fact, located on the Tonle Sap River. My apologies. Sometimes I wonder how they let me out of fifth grade.
Anyway......
I have recently found myself incredibly busy with: a very nice social life (yay! I finally have one here! And it only took seven months!), setting up my condo, obsessing over all things preschool, planninXg my trip to Cambodia, preparing for my best friend and her husband to come visit (double yay!), eating vegetarian curry, drinking green tea after every meal, buying pashminas, and sleeping soundly on my memory foam pad.
Without regaling you with the details, I will also say that I had another bout of the tummy issues with which I have been afflicted since almost the first day that I set my little, unassuming, Midwestern foot in Southeast Asia. It's nothing serious. It just means that another pesky five pounds melts away with very little effort, unless you consider "being doubled over in extreme pain and moaning repeatedly" to constitute a rigorous workout regime. The fact that one does tend to lose weight quickly and easily in this part of the world inspired my friend H. to wonder aloud the other night: in the weight-obsessed world of Hollywood, why don't more people do "the parasite diet?" Under the supervision of a doctor, an actor or actress could come to Asia (I think the parasites in India are the strongest and most brutal), pick up some giardia, and lose 20 pounds in the blink of an eye. Side effects may include dehydration, lactose intolerance, and decreased WILL TO LIVE, but hey, it's safer than, say, meth.
I, for one, do not recommend this diet. I also fully intend to gain back whatever weight I lose (or try, at any rate). In the meantime, though, all I can do is shrug my shoulders and just tell myself that it's all part of my adventure.
SO....as you can see, I have been very busy recently. I'm also off to Cambodia today. I will resume regular posts (and new taxi stories!) when I return. Until then, be well, don't drink the tap water, and I highly recommend the green tea.
Anyway......
I have recently found myself incredibly busy with: a very nice social life (yay! I finally have one here! And it only took seven months!), setting up my condo, obsessing over all things preschool, planninXg my trip to Cambodia, preparing for my best friend and her husband to come visit (double yay!), eating vegetarian curry, drinking green tea after every meal, buying pashminas, and sleeping soundly on my memory foam pad.
Without regaling you with the details, I will also say that I had another bout of the tummy issues with which I have been afflicted since almost the first day that I set my little, unassuming, Midwestern foot in Southeast Asia. It's nothing serious. It just means that another pesky five pounds melts away with very little effort, unless you consider "being doubled over in extreme pain and moaning repeatedly" to constitute a rigorous workout regime. The fact that one does tend to lose weight quickly and easily in this part of the world inspired my friend H. to wonder aloud the other night: in the weight-obsessed world of Hollywood, why don't more people do "the parasite diet?" Under the supervision of a doctor, an actor or actress could come to Asia (I think the parasites in India are the strongest and most brutal), pick up some giardia, and lose 20 pounds in the blink of an eye. Side effects may include dehydration, lactose intolerance, and decreased WILL TO LIVE, but hey, it's safer than, say, meth.
I, for one, do not recommend this diet. I also fully intend to gain back whatever weight I lose (or try, at any rate). In the meantime, though, all I can do is shrug my shoulders and just tell myself that it's all part of my adventure.
SO....as you can see, I have been very busy recently. I'm also off to Cambodia today. I will resume regular posts (and new taxi stories!) when I return. Until then, be well, don't drink the tap water, and I highly recommend the green tea.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Cambodia
I first visited Cambodia in December and fell madly, passionately, obsessively in love with it. It just absolutely gripped my heart and has yet to let go. It's like being in high school again and having an agonizing and unrequited crush: you think about that person all the time, stare at his picture, and even dream up scenarios of happily ever after. However, when you emerge from your fantasy world you are holding your own hands and practicing your "I love you, too" expression by looking at your own eyes in the mirror. Y'know, not that I ever did any of that stuff, I'm just saying....
Anyway....Cambodia feels almost like a lover who is just beyond my grasp. I stare at pictures from my trip there, admire the beautiful Khmer Buddha that I purchased there, and read books about its tragic and bloody past. And yet, there's just no way to really hold and grasp onto the energy there. No way to really make it mine. No way to really possess it because it is huge and heavy and complex. And the people there are lovely and beautiful and hopeful and broken. I just can't get enough of this place.
I am headed back there in less than a week. Last time my trip was blurry with a full agenda of sights and tuk tuk rides and items to be checked off of my "to see" list. This time I plan on slowing down, wandering the streets, discovering Phnom Penh's delicious bistros, weaving my way through museums, and even setting aside time for a massage at an incredible spa. My pace will be languid--allowing for moments of stopping and staring at the Tonle Sap River as it eases past this effulgent treasure of a city.
I can't wait.
I'm eventually going to figure out how these new-fangled contraptions like Flickr and Photobucket work. For now, however, I'll post some of my favorite pictures here. My Facebook friends can find the rest on my profile page!
Anyway....Cambodia feels almost like a lover who is just beyond my grasp. I stare at pictures from my trip there, admire the beautiful Khmer Buddha that I purchased there, and read books about its tragic and bloody past. And yet, there's just no way to really hold and grasp onto the energy there. No way to really make it mine. No way to really possess it because it is huge and heavy and complex. And the people there are lovely and beautiful and hopeful and broken. I just can't get enough of this place.
I am headed back there in less than a week. Last time my trip was blurry with a full agenda of sights and tuk tuk rides and items to be checked off of my "to see" list. This time I plan on slowing down, wandering the streets, discovering Phnom Penh's delicious bistros, weaving my way through museums, and even setting aside time for a massage at an incredible spa. My pace will be languid--allowing for moments of stopping and staring at the Tonle Sap River as it eases past this effulgent treasure of a city.
I can't wait.
I'm eventually going to figure out how these new-fangled contraptions like Flickr and Photobucket work. For now, however, I'll post some of my favorite pictures here. My Facebook friends can find the rest on my profile page!
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Surprising
We have a security guard here at the school who is a tiny, thin, elderly gent with a sweet smile and a face turned leathery by sun and difficulty. I actually sometimes wonder what would happen if someone were to attempt to do harm to our lovely little oasis of calm and learning here in the middle of the busy city, as this security guard is about as frightening as a chihuahua in a sweater, and he maybe tips the scales at 100 pounds. At any rate, he always smiles kindly, helps me with any heavy lifting, and tends to the greenery with tremendous diligence and care. I've actually grown quite attached to him, and have been known to leave him bottles of water for those days when he has to sit out in the hot sun.
As I was frantically walking from my classroom to the kitchen to fill up on more caffeine, I caught a glimpse of the guard crouched down in the driveway and focusing intently on something. For a brief second I worried that he may be having a heart attack or a stroke or suffering from a dizzy spell (I am ever the alarmist! And this guy is old!). As I looked more closely, however, I noticed that he was holding a stick and playing--yes, playing--with one of the large toads that inhabit our property. The toad would take some giant leaps, and the guard would go scrambling after it with all the energy and awkwardness of a toddler. He would then use the stick to get the toad to do flips over and over again, higher and higher each time, his wrinkled face beaming with an expression of glee. Every once in awhile the poor toad finally managed to hop out of his reach, at which point the guard would scramble after it again. Scramble, flip, repeat. I watched him for several minutes, and he was completely oblivious to everything around him except the toad.
When I emerged again from the kitchen after filling my coffee cup, I saw the guard bent over near the grass, scanning it, and looking slightly forlorn. It appears as though his playmate had grown tired of the game and made a beeline (er, toadline?) for the safety of the grass. And there was the security guard, standing in the freshly pressed gray shirt and navy pants of his security uniform, stick in hand, searching for his toad.
I kinda want to hug him right now.
As I was frantically walking from my classroom to the kitchen to fill up on more caffeine, I caught a glimpse of the guard crouched down in the driveway and focusing intently on something. For a brief second I worried that he may be having a heart attack or a stroke or suffering from a dizzy spell (I am ever the alarmist! And this guy is old!). As I looked more closely, however, I noticed that he was holding a stick and playing--yes, playing--with one of the large toads that inhabit our property. The toad would take some giant leaps, and the guard would go scrambling after it with all the energy and awkwardness of a toddler. He would then use the stick to get the toad to do flips over and over again, higher and higher each time, his wrinkled face beaming with an expression of glee. Every once in awhile the poor toad finally managed to hop out of his reach, at which point the guard would scramble after it again. Scramble, flip, repeat. I watched him for several minutes, and he was completely oblivious to everything around him except the toad.
When I emerged again from the kitchen after filling my coffee cup, I saw the guard bent over near the grass, scanning it, and looking slightly forlorn. It appears as though his playmate had grown tired of the game and made a beeline (er, toadline?) for the safety of the grass. And there was the security guard, standing in the freshly pressed gray shirt and navy pants of his security uniform, stick in hand, searching for his toad.
I kinda want to hug him right now.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
The Bangkok Taxi: An Overview
The taxis in Bangkok are different from taxis that I've been in anywhere else in the world. They lack the uniform sterility of European taxis, and the predictable dinginess of New York taxis, and the white-knuckle terror that often accompanies Mexican taxis. For starters, taxis in Bangkok are usually pink--something that makes me immeasurably happy. You also never quite know what to expect of the interior when you get in one. By that, I don't mean in terms of the general cleanliness--I've actually never been in cleaner taxis than those in Bangkok. I mean the interesting "pieces of flair" that each taxi contains.
Dashboards are frequently transformed into miniature altars inviting protection and prosperity. There is usually at least one tiny Buddha, Ganesha, or fasting monk statue, all of which are generally encased in little plastic domes. I have seen dashboards with as many as five or six of these--virtual plastic gardens of sacred symbols. These little statues are generally adorned with small plastic garlands, and very often are surrounded by smaller amulets that have been stuck to the dashboard with glue that oozes out from under them on hot days. Lately I've also been seeing quite a few statues of a female (and she is generally standing, which does obstruct the windshield view quite a bit!). I am tremendously curious about her. I assume that she is a goddess (and her clothing looks a bit more Indian than Thai), but I'm not completely certain. I will have to find out about her from the driver the next time I see her in a taxi :).
The rearview mirror is another space for decoration. They are generally dripping with long, beaded chains that culminate in big, thick amulets at the bottom. These amulets also contain Buddhas and Ganeshas and monks. Some drivers hang prayer beads made from wood and jade and even rose quartz. There are jasmine garlands wrapped around some mirrors that make the inside of the taxi thick with their scent. Sometimes there are prayer flags and pictures of the Buddha under a bodhi tree and even framed pictures of the King. I have seen a string of gold paper cranes, their wings trembling slightly with the jolts of traffic and flapping in the musty stream of air conditioning. Some mirrors are so thick with the driver's small treasures that an entire section of windshield is basically rendered useless. The beads and amulets swing and collide and click together quietly as the taxi moves along--a nervous, comforting tempo like an irregular pulse running through veins hardened with devotion. Most taxis also have designs on the ceiling above the driver's head, which have been made out of a sacred powder used by monks during blessings. Some drivers settle for three dots just behind the visor, while others have intricate, curvy, flame-like stripes reaching halfway across the ceiling.
The upholstery also varies from taxi to taxi. Sometimes it's a worn, black vinyl. Sometimes it's a shiny, black vinyl with pink piping around the edges. One driver even pulled pink wife beaters over the driver's seat and the front passenger's seat to be both protective to the seats and consistent with the general taxi color scheme. My absolute favorite interior had baby pink seats that were covered in some sort of lace, which had been painstakingly lacquered to the seats. I kid you not. It was like someone had taken your grandmother's curtains and made taxi seats out of them. I have yet to see this taxi again and I probably never will. BUT, mark my words, I will continue searching.......
Most taxis here smell like Tiger Balm. Tiger Balm is not only the most miraculous balm in the entire world, but it also comes in inhaler form that people will frequently shove up their nostrils to ward off the pollution-induced clogs that happen all the time here. Every taxi therefore has a twinge of menthol and eucalyptus to it. In some, it is almost imperceptible. In others, my eyes water and my sinuses are purged. Taxis also smell like jasmine and cigarettes and B.O. and spilled fish sauce and green tea and, well, flatulence.
Sometimes the radio is playing. Some drivers listen to music, but more often than not they will listen to talk shows, complete with the melodic repetition of the radio host saying "ka, ka" (if it's a woman, and "kap, kap" if it's a man) over and over again--"yes, yes"--to show that she is listening to the caller. Drivers will often accommodate foreigners by putting on "farang music." If you receive a phone call while riding in a taxi, the driver will turn down the radio. Every single time.
Taxis here are as unique, varied, detailed, and fascinating as the people driving them, and the streets through which they travel.
Dashboards are frequently transformed into miniature altars inviting protection and prosperity. There is usually at least one tiny Buddha, Ganesha, or fasting monk statue, all of which are generally encased in little plastic domes. I have seen dashboards with as many as five or six of these--virtual plastic gardens of sacred symbols. These little statues are generally adorned with small plastic garlands, and very often are surrounded by smaller amulets that have been stuck to the dashboard with glue that oozes out from under them on hot days. Lately I've also been seeing quite a few statues of a female (and she is generally standing, which does obstruct the windshield view quite a bit!). I am tremendously curious about her. I assume that she is a goddess (and her clothing looks a bit more Indian than Thai), but I'm not completely certain. I will have to find out about her from the driver the next time I see her in a taxi :).
The rearview mirror is another space for decoration. They are generally dripping with long, beaded chains that culminate in big, thick amulets at the bottom. These amulets also contain Buddhas and Ganeshas and monks. Some drivers hang prayer beads made from wood and jade and even rose quartz. There are jasmine garlands wrapped around some mirrors that make the inside of the taxi thick with their scent. Sometimes there are prayer flags and pictures of the Buddha under a bodhi tree and even framed pictures of the King. I have seen a string of gold paper cranes, their wings trembling slightly with the jolts of traffic and flapping in the musty stream of air conditioning. Some mirrors are so thick with the driver's small treasures that an entire section of windshield is basically rendered useless. The beads and amulets swing and collide and click together quietly as the taxi moves along--a nervous, comforting tempo like an irregular pulse running through veins hardened with devotion. Most taxis also have designs on the ceiling above the driver's head, which have been made out of a sacred powder used by monks during blessings. Some drivers settle for three dots just behind the visor, while others have intricate, curvy, flame-like stripes reaching halfway across the ceiling.
The upholstery also varies from taxi to taxi. Sometimes it's a worn, black vinyl. Sometimes it's a shiny, black vinyl with pink piping around the edges. One driver even pulled pink wife beaters over the driver's seat and the front passenger's seat to be both protective to the seats and consistent with the general taxi color scheme. My absolute favorite interior had baby pink seats that were covered in some sort of lace, which had been painstakingly lacquered to the seats. I kid you not. It was like someone had taken your grandmother's curtains and made taxi seats out of them. I have yet to see this taxi again and I probably never will. BUT, mark my words, I will continue searching.......
Most taxis here smell like Tiger Balm. Tiger Balm is not only the most miraculous balm in the entire world, but it also comes in inhaler form that people will frequently shove up their nostrils to ward off the pollution-induced clogs that happen all the time here. Every taxi therefore has a twinge of menthol and eucalyptus to it. In some, it is almost imperceptible. In others, my eyes water and my sinuses are purged. Taxis also smell like jasmine and cigarettes and B.O. and spilled fish sauce and green tea and, well, flatulence.
Sometimes the radio is playing. Some drivers listen to music, but more often than not they will listen to talk shows, complete with the melodic repetition of the radio host saying "ka, ka" (if it's a woman, and "kap, kap" if it's a man) over and over again--"yes, yes"--to show that she is listening to the caller. Drivers will often accommodate foreigners by putting on "farang music." If you receive a phone call while riding in a taxi, the driver will turn down the radio. Every single time.
Taxis here are as unique, varied, detailed, and fascinating as the people driving them, and the streets through which they travel.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Not built in a day
This project about taxi drivers in Bangkok has, of course, already gotten me thinking about a lot of things. My experiences here, funny moments, frustrating moments, the art of being an observer in a new place, and so on. One thing that's a little unexpected is that this project has made me think a lot about my blog.
If you look at the other blogs in my sidebar, they all appeal to me for different reasons. The thing that is perhaps most appealing about all of them, however, is the fact that they all have very interesting story arcs. In other words, they document journeys as people go through life changes: a first year of marriage, purchasing a home, trying to get pregnant, planning a move from one coast to the other, raising a family. These are stories about BUILDING things. About permanence. These stories are long, steady streams that weave slowly through these bloggers' lives, thickening and deepening and carving out the future.
My blog, on the other hand, feels like a series of snapshots. A series of vignettes. Short bursts of stories that are essentially complete entities unto themselves. Sure, they are colorful and interesting and different and even exotic, but they are generally not arcs. They do not build on one another.
I certainly don't mean to compare myself to other people or live vicariously through them, nor do I want to make it sound like my life is somehow less significant. My only intention is just to say that it is interesting to read about people who are BUILDING something in their lives. When you live overseas, especially if you are only overseas for a limited amount of time, it's not so easy to build things. Friends come and go very frequently as dictated by their job contracts. It's easy to avoid hanging things on walls, or accumulating too much stuff because, well, you're only going to be here for so long. Add a long-distance love to that, and Important Life Discussions about marriage and kids and joint checking accounts just have to wait until later.
On the positive side of all of this, this series of moments and trips and encounters and brief, ephemeral connections with people and postcards and souvenirs that my life has become has taught me much more about the present moment. Sure, I'm not building things that will set the course for my future, but I am absolutely consumed with the present moment. For the first time in my life, I'm really LOOKING and SEEING and trying not to hurry through all of it. But that, in and of itself, has been extremely challenging.
I think that's a big reason why I've become extremely invested (and almost obsessively so) in the school: it's something that I'm building, that will be here (hopefully) long after I have gone, and I can actively shape and mold its future with my own two hands. While my personal future may be in a bit of a holding pattern until after my time here is done, this school is something that I can impact every single day.
I guess I've hit a patch where I'm simultaneously so content and at peace, and so lonely and conflicted. But isn't that life, no matter WHERE you are and WHAT you're doing?? At any rate, I'm trying not to think too much right now. By the time I get things all figured out, and I've accepted the difficult things, and gotten to the point where the meaning in all of this is crystal clear, it will be time to get on an airplane and come home. And start all over again.
I think that's enough thinking for today. I need to swim some laps and drink some green tea and plan my trip to Cambodia. I need to be in utter awe of the present moment and fill up another memory card with pictures of Asia in all of its quirky and elegant beauty.
If you look at the other blogs in my sidebar, they all appeal to me for different reasons. The thing that is perhaps most appealing about all of them, however, is the fact that they all have very interesting story arcs. In other words, they document journeys as people go through life changes: a first year of marriage, purchasing a home, trying to get pregnant, planning a move from one coast to the other, raising a family. These are stories about BUILDING things. About permanence. These stories are long, steady streams that weave slowly through these bloggers' lives, thickening and deepening and carving out the future.
My blog, on the other hand, feels like a series of snapshots. A series of vignettes. Short bursts of stories that are essentially complete entities unto themselves. Sure, they are colorful and interesting and different and even exotic, but they are generally not arcs. They do not build on one another.
I certainly don't mean to compare myself to other people or live vicariously through them, nor do I want to make it sound like my life is somehow less significant. My only intention is just to say that it is interesting to read about people who are BUILDING something in their lives. When you live overseas, especially if you are only overseas for a limited amount of time, it's not so easy to build things. Friends come and go very frequently as dictated by their job contracts. It's easy to avoid hanging things on walls, or accumulating too much stuff because, well, you're only going to be here for so long. Add a long-distance love to that, and Important Life Discussions about marriage and kids and joint checking accounts just have to wait until later.
On the positive side of all of this, this series of moments and trips and encounters and brief, ephemeral connections with people and postcards and souvenirs that my life has become has taught me much more about the present moment. Sure, I'm not building things that will set the course for my future, but I am absolutely consumed with the present moment. For the first time in my life, I'm really LOOKING and SEEING and trying not to hurry through all of it. But that, in and of itself, has been extremely challenging.
I think that's a big reason why I've become extremely invested (and almost obsessively so) in the school: it's something that I'm building, that will be here (hopefully) long after I have gone, and I can actively shape and mold its future with my own two hands. While my personal future may be in a bit of a holding pattern until after my time here is done, this school is something that I can impact every single day.
I guess I've hit a patch where I'm simultaneously so content and at peace, and so lonely and conflicted. But isn't that life, no matter WHERE you are and WHAT you're doing?? At any rate, I'm trying not to think too much right now. By the time I get things all figured out, and I've accepted the difficult things, and gotten to the point where the meaning in all of this is crystal clear, it will be time to get on an airplane and come home. And start all over again.
I think that's enough thinking for today. I need to swim some laps and drink some green tea and plan my trip to Cambodia. I need to be in utter awe of the present moment and fill up another memory card with pictures of Asia in all of its quirky and elegant beauty.
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