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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.