Self-Pimpage and Retail Therapy

Bangkok has the best shopping EVER. Shopping here is a full sensory experience unlike any other. The people you talk to, the conversations that you have, the bargaining, the absolutely incredible things that you can buy, the truly random and bizarre things that you can buy, the smells of street vendor cuisine, the constant din of traffic providing a backdrop to the music that is anywhere from five to ten years old (nothing current....I have no idea what current songs or artists are inundating the radio waves in the U.S., as here we have Atomic Kitten and Sheryl Crow circa 1997). Shopping here is an altogether fascinating experience. It's part anthropological study, part economics lesson, part language immersion. LOVES. And the Thais are tremendously courteous and friendly while shopping. No one grabs or shoves or shouts. Everyone smiles and looks all hip and fashionable.

It is therefore no surprise that I tend to find myself rushing into the arms of retail therapy in Bangkok when dealing with any major emotion, such as grief (or preparing for grief). Shopping here just feels like LIFE. It feels vibrant and pulsating and present and filled with fantastically surprising quirks and details. And I find myself filled with a strange reverence during the entire experience.

So last weekend I headed to Siam Square--an area comprised of shops that are literally holes in the wall, and stuffed to the gills with creations by local designers.

I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE Asian fashion. I just find myself utterly unable to pull it off. I always wind up looking like a cartoon bubble, or like I'm playing dress up with my sparkly princess shoes from the toy store. And, well, many of these designs were not created for people from hardy Nordic heritage with birthing hips (i.e. ME).

However, last weekend as I nursed my chai tea latte (with double espresso shots), wandering in an admittedly zombie-like state through the utterly fabulous holes-in-the-wall-cum-shops, I found some incredible treasures.

This is the first time in my life (and probably the last....) that I've been able to afford the unique, one-of-a-kind designer stuff, and I found some amazing treasures. I found some kick-ass boots and some silver heels and a shirt that I got mainly for the broken English that just never fails to make me giggle and melt a little (it says "Please do not wait! Goes to call happiness! Peace our green earth and save." Um, yeah.....).

However, the true prizes of the day were some dresses--completely handmade, of course--that actually FIT and were lovely. They were actually rather simple, but the kind of thing that I will have forever. I got one in black and one in red. Even when I'm old and chunky and filled with stretch marks from multiple pregnancies (I am Nordic, after all....) these dresses will hang in my closet and remind me of a time when I lived in Asia, bought fantastic things, had daily adventures, and could still rock a red dress.

Now, I don't particularly enjoy posting pictures of myself on this blog (especially pictures where I'm deliberately posing), but other bloggers do it all the time. So what the hell. My apologies for the exhibitionism, as well as the bad pose. I've been watching old episodes of America's Next Top Model and CLEARLY not learning anything from them.



Here's the red one (that seems to photograph more orangey...). Behind me you can also see part of the batik sarong that I got in Bali. It is an absolutely lovely wall hanging, even though it looks a little hideous here.......

I'm not gonna lie: I just finished taking this picture and am now still wandering around my condo (and sitting demurely at my desk as I type) in my red dress.

Ah, retail therapy. The key that unlocks the magic of life's mysteries. Or something like that.

Choreography

It is not a lack of things to say that has kept me from this space recently. Rather, I have been afraid that the near-bursting basket of thoughts and feelings that I somehow manage to lug around with me all day long will manifest itself in a soupy porridge of crazy if I allow myself to dump its contents all over a blank screen. And, well, I'm getting a little tired of lugging it all around. So, um, get yer soup spoons ready......

Let me just first say that I walked behind a ridiculously adorable (and way too young to be away from its mommy and on the mean streets of Bangkok) baby elephant on my way home from work today. I was also almost hit by a motorcycle. I am sure that most people do not have the luxury of such adventure on the way home from work.

The perfectionist in me wishes more than anything that I could shove my experience here into a neat little shoebox labeled The Best Experience of My Entire Life and set it on a bookshelf right next to the shiny silk photo albums that document my lovely travels here in Asia. But the fact of the matter is that my understanding of these two years will end up as scattered and varied bric-a-brac, occupying all kinds of shelves and tables and any piece of furniture that will have it.

Meditation teaches us that stress and worry and anxiety are optional. And so I am learning to let all of this roll right off my back.

Each day brings with it a new feeling, a new thought, a new way of being in the world that I hadn't previously discovered. Each day is still rich and full and HOLY CRAP I'm taking a weekend trip to Vietnam as a birthday present to myself. And I feel like the mental wardrobe that the different facets of myself must don as they constantly rotate and display themselves might resemble something that the illegitimate lovechild of a 1980's Cyndi Lauper and a pre-prison Martha Stewart might wear.

As I write these words, my family is gathered at the bedside of my grandfather as he takes his final breaths. Doctors always said that he would live to be 100, but the cancer in his bones is hungry and impatient, and the end has arrived before any of us were truly able to prepare. Somehow 94 years on this planet, 94 years of his vivacious energy and perpetual optimism and entrepreneurial spirit and ladykilling charm and poetry and long-winded ramblings (hey, I had to get the latter and the former from SOMEWHERE) and deep belly laughs and love of uncouth humor and vodka martinis just doesn't seem to be enough. I said my goodbyes to him over the phone, across a million time zones, choking and sputtering on my words as they ejected themselves from my throat like panicked fish. He told me that he loved me, that he had gotten the letters that I had sent, that he was proud of me. He called me "sweetie pie" for the final time, and said that we would always be family. Forever and ever. No matter what.

After he returned the phone to my aunt he fell into a deep silence. And there he remains, just waiting, unable to speak. Those final words that he said to me--the final words that he will truly say to anybody--have become a permanent part of my body. They radiate in my cells, they have encoded themselves into my DNA.

Last night I switched on the living room light and immediately the beams of the eye-frying, industrial bulbs turned solid with a swarm of insects--beautiful bugs with translucent wings jigging in a strange geometry of movement, frantically absorbing and refracting the light that I absolutely abhor. I watched them, feeling utterly unsure of whether or not I wanted to retrieve the Raid can and put a stop this strange and enthralling dance. And then, just as quickly as the dance began, it was over. The bugs dropped dead in a sweeping, collective motion that seemed painstakingly choreographed and purposefully executed. I almost wanted to applaud, but instead stood in a surprised silence, staring at the wings that were scattered like bits of glittering glass on my floor. They made a sad and crisp sound as I swept them into the dustpan.

Somehow there is sense in all of this. There is sense in everything internal and external that has been brought forth by timing and circumstance. There is a beautiful poetry to all of this, which is sung to me in a language that I cannot understand and yet still has meaning to me anyway. Everything Is as it Is, and it is somehow perfect.

Motosai Meditation

Wow...I'm all ABOUT the poetry right now!

Living in Asia has inspired me to meditate daily--a practice that has changed my entire life. Sometimes, however, I oversleep or have difficulty fitting it in, so I do it on my way to and from work. And, well, seeing as how my main form of transportation nowadays is a motorcycle taxi, I frequently meditate while balancing on the back of one.

This poem is the product of one of these mobile meditation sessions. 'Cause, well, there's just no excuse to skip meditating!

How to meditate on the back of a motorcycle

Close your eyes
Smell bursts
Shrimp, garlic, jasmine
Feel the driver balanced in front of you
Like a pot sprouting lazy leaves and
Pinpricks of color like anointed eyelids, resting

Trust.

Thrust your head upward under cranes and scaffolding and a night without stars
As the motorcycle jerks in its self-preservation
And its gasping movement reverberates
In the deep, dark seed of your belly
Expanding and contracting in pure presence
Cells thick with earth and time transforming the urban air

Breathe.

And the grief swells up and joins the oily neon
Sliding under the transient darkness of closed eyes
Eyelashes grip each other like hands in prayer and
The grief makes the night electric and real,
Feelings and thoughts scattered on iridescent waves,
Hardening in the dense chasm of this moment
This moment
And the grief rises and falls until
It is carried away on the stooped backs of headlights, of smoke
Carried away until all that remains of it
Are your outstretched arms,
Reaching for it

Release.

Eyes open
Heart slows
Coins tumble into an open palm.
Kap khun ka.

Gratitude.

Today

Today the old woman with the stooped shoulders rounded the corner the same way she does every day, like clockwork, her canvas bag bulging with mundane treasures

Today I saw that a tree had finally blossomed, its yellow flowers extravagant and poofy like meringues or Easter bonnets, adorning a small alley where its inhabitants cook over an open flame, crouching in the dirt

Today my elephant is chewing long stalks of grass, trunk curling and uncurling, jaws laboring in elastic circles, gulping air, fueling a lazy sway. I miss her.

Today the motorcycle under me feels like an organ digesting and processing the sharp turns and unexpected road companions, shuddering in its liveliness, swerving around motorized street vendor stalls carrying children in white uniforms, bouncing like joyful popcorn, school bound

Today the plumeria tree outside my window is shedding its white petals, making me sneeze, making me delirious with grief as its branches bare themselves

Today my new amethyst necklace hangs around my neck, the one I bought outside my dance studio, its stones like shark teeth, thin and long and aggressive. It is a deep, inconsolable purple

Today I will visit my favorite DVD vendor, the one who lets me pay 60 baht per disc, the one who always wears a wooden necklace and courteously blows his cigarette smoke away from me, the one near the Middle Eastern restaurant where cockroaches crawled out of our food and we didn't eat for days after that

Today is warm and slow and lingering, an unwrinkled pace, watching shadows stretch themselves along the grass like sated lovers

Today the hammers pound and progress somehow emerges from routine and repetition. The nails bellow a mantra in their stinging. ForWARD. ForWARD. ForWARD.

Today is celebrating the bliss of forgetting, the utter absence of grasping and holding. Time slides through my fingers, bringing its oily coating of memory with it.

Delinquent

Ohhhhhh my......can we say blog delinquent??? Sheesh. Unacceptable!!

It's late, I need to get to sleep, and I need to pack for my trip to Phuket this weekend (yay!!), which is much needed as I am still traumatized from the absolutely freezing weather that I had to endure when I was back in the U.S. How will I ever re-acclimate when I move back for good?? It was in the 60s here recently, and I wore a heavy fleece (which was accompanied by a constant whimper) every day and thought I would surely die of hypothermia. Now the temperature here is climbing climbing climbing and I finally feel normal again.

Yes. That's right. I just wrote about the weather.

Anyway, I have lots to say, but have just not had the time to say it. I promise I'll write more this weekend (that is, if I can be bothered to set down the coconut cocktail long enough so that both hands can actually be free for typing!)

I Am A Dumbass.....

I can't believe it's been over three weeks since I last wrote!! Those three weeks were an absolute whirlwind and can be summarized as follows:

1.) Jet lag
2.) Nieces
3.) Peter
4.) FREEZING MY ASS OFF in the frozen tundra of Minnesota
5.) Falling in love with San Francisco (omg...is there a more awesome, fascinating, romantic, REAL place filled with authentic and fashionable people in the entire universe??? I'm madly in love and will spend the next year and a half politely begging Peter to move there)

HOLY CRAP, am I glad that 2008 is over. I feel good about 2009. I feel like 2008 taught me to be impervious and calm, and I'm looking forward to leading a more balanced life in 2009.

It did, however, not get off to a perfectly seamless start.....

My school hires people to help us take care of our visa and work permit stuff. All I have to do is hand over my passport, sit in the uncomfortable plastic chairs at immigration, and sign the appropriate pages when prompted. I am very lucky in this way. However, when I recently had my visa updated, as it had expired, the person in charge of my visa and work permit handed everything back to me and said that I was all set to go. However, I was not, in fact, all set to go. I had not acquired a re-entry permit, which is necessary in order to, well, re-enter the country on this particular visa. For some reason, I didn't think anything of it, even though I had had a re-entry permit with my last visa. I figured that I could put my faith (and immigration status) in this poor guy's hands without checking things over for myself.

I am the Dumbest Person Alive.

I didn't realize my mistake until arriving at the immigration checkpoint here in Bangkok around 2 a.m. after a sleepless plane ride wherein a toddler kicked my seat the entire time. My lack of re-entry permit means that I had to get a 30-day tourist visa, thereby invalidating my official visa. From what I understand, I have to reapply for my official visa at a consulate outside of Thailand, and while the school usually pays for the entire visa process, I will have to (rightfully) fund this little adventure on my own.

I haven't been able to sleep since coming back to Bangkok on account of all of this. While I can be extremely diligent in some areas of my life (like writing papers and planning instruction and wearing sunblock and flossing), it's like I lack complete and utter common sense in others (and frequently these areas seem to always include official documents.....). I never check receipts to make sure that everything is on the up and up, I dropped the ball more than once with my teacher certification paperwork and coursework (which has mostly been remedied at this point...), and I allowed myself to somehow trip and fall into a massive black hole of credit card debt (which is almost completely paid off now, but it has been a nerve-wracking and angst-ridden process). I guess I sort of float through life sometimes, figuring that all of this stuff will somehow work itself out, and that everyone around me can be trusted without any hesitation whatsoever, and that I will always be taken care of. And that's a great way to live your life when you're, y'know, FIVE.

So my biggest resolution for 2009? GROW THE FUCK UP. It's time for Mama to take responsibility for her own ducks and putting them in an orderly row. So the visa situation is going to be very aggravating for me and my employers, and it will most likely be a somewhat costly process for me. And yes, it will probably also cost me a few nights of sleep, waking up with my heart pounding and my inner critic bludgeoning me to death, telling me that I have nary a brain in my head. But, well, this minor crisis will pass, and in the meantime I've learned a very valuable life lesson about, y'know, checking things out and fine-tuning my eye for details (be they small or large).

And from what I could gather from the various visa forums, this lack of applying for a re-entry visa is a somewhat common phenomenon, which does ease the sting of it a little. But only a little.

And now, after another relatively sleepless night, it's off to work.

Happy 2009! May we all grow a little wiser this year.....

A-leavin' on a jet plane

So I think I've been a tad bit whiny on here (and in my life) lately, my apologies. As usual, my life has been a fabulous and well decorated roller coaster. I can't believe how chock full o' stuff--both amazing and sucky--the last six weeks have been! And now I'm about to get on a plane in a few hours and head home to my family for three weeks. I haven't been back to the U.S. in a year!! And while I mentioned in my last post that I was somewhat nervous about this trip (see? WHINY!!!!), those feelings have been replaced with feelings of complete and utter joy and excitement.

I can't wait to show America the lessons that Asia has taught me. Seriously. I'm like a preschooler running home to my mom to show her my ingenious finger painting. And while the familiar will, in fact, feel unfamiliar after such a long absence (and this will be strange at first), I also know that the familiar contains the long overdue TLC that I desperately need!!

I will miss Asia while I'm gone, but I sure am hoping for a white Christmas!!

Catch ya on the flip side (quite literally)!