Domestic Goddess

I've never considered myself to be a domestic being...a homebody, yes, at times....but generally I was quite comfortable with that home having piles of laundry and books scattered everywhere and maybe the occasional dirty dish in the sink (one thing that I've always had a hard time tolerating, however, is the dust bunny...death to all dust bunnies! Moving on....). After living for the past two years in a space that never felt like mine (and I was frequently reminded of the fact that it WASN'T mine), having a nest is now important to me. And while I don't necessarily feel like Peter's apartment is mine either, I DO find myself carving out little cozy corners that are all mine.

It is surprising to me that certain aesthetic things bother me now, like piles of random clutter, or mismatching silverware, or the random packs of sesame crackers in the living room. However, I think the biggest surprise for me now is learning that I enjoy cooking. It's never something that I have been particularly good at, or really had any sort of desire to learn how to do. Like, AT ALL. But now that I coexist with someone whose appetite is enormous (as is his appreciation for any sort of thing that I whip up in the kitchen), I find cooking to be enjoyable and relaxing, especially since Peter frequently insists on doing the cleaning afterward :).

In the past few weeks I have tackled dishes like chicken enchiladas, penne a la vodka, pumpkin bars with cream cheese frosting, and frosted lemon sugar cookies. This weekend Peter's brother is visiting us, and we had an amazing breakfast of challa bread that he brought us from New York City, and eggs that Peter scrambled with cheese and onion. Our "weekend coffee" ritual involves beans that we grind ourselves and put in the French press. It is potent and delicious, and I look forward to it all week.

At the moment Peter and his brother are at Trader Joe's purchasing the ingredients for pumpkin soup, curried couscous, a broccoli cheese casserole, and another batch of the frosted lemon sugar cookies that I plan on making today, right after taking a rainy afternoon run.

So while the changes that I am experiencing now are not as grandiose and ground-breaking and somehow exotic as those that I experienced in Asia, it's still nice to grow in small, unexpected, and occasionally delicious ways.

Does anyone have any recipes for me to try??

Hong Kong

I never had the chance to write about Hong Kong, which was one of my favorite cities, and so......

Hong Kong had a very different energy than the slow buzz of Southeast Asian cities. It had tall buildings and tidy traffic and neon signs and streets free of both trash and the choking scent of burning coals cooking sidewalk satay. The locals there walked quickly down the sidewalks (in STARK contrast to Bangkok) and were snazzy dressers. The April air was chilly and damp, and the shopping there was exquisite--antiques and stones and pearls and high fashion and SHOES GALORE.

My trip was made extra special thanks to friends of Peter's who live there. E. and Peter studied abroad together in Germany, and his lovely wife and daughter wined and dined me and showed me the time of my life. We met up the first night and went to Kowloon where they snapped pictures of me by the harbor. We went out for Korean barbecue and TWO desserts--one place specialized in a flavored shaved ice that had the texture of crisp ice cream, and the other place specialized in durian pastries. They told me all about life in Hong Kong, and how a lot of the expat population had cleared out as a result of the economic downturn, as Hong Kong took a rather severe hit. I also found it interesting that if parents wanted to enroll their children in international schools (which is the trend all across Asia, for better or worse), they had to first be affiliated with a church. It was an evening of stimulating conversation and delectable food, and I was so so so happy.

My guest house was rather modest, as the cost of accommodations in Hong Kong was RIDICULOUS. It was a tiny box with a rock hard bed, but luckily I was only there to sleep. The next day I got coffee and pastries at a bakery around the corner and wrote for a few hours. Then I was off to see the city--Hollywood Road where I browsed antiques, taking the Lonely Planet walking tour to the Tao temple at the top of the hill, purchasing communist paraphinalia for Andrew, riding a Star Ferry across the harbor to Kowloon, and purchasing pearls and gemstones and aventurine dragons at the Jade Market. The public transportation was quick and clean and silent, and aside from getting drenched in the evening rain, it was the perfect day. I met up with E. and S. again that night, and they took me to an amaaaaaazing Chinese restaurant. After dinner they took me to their condo in Repulse Bay, and we picked up their delicious doll of a daughter, who taught me a new song about traffic lights (which I then taught to my preschoolers) and we talked about our favorite stories. I borrowed a warm pink trench coat from S., and their daughter wore a matching one. We went up to the Victoria lookout and saw the luminous views of the harbor at night. The buildings were works of art--their reflections forming mini-galaxies in the dark pupil of the harbor. The night was cold and misty, and I felt like a model in a photo shoot as E. took picture after picture of me with the harbor as my backdrop. We ate dessert--profiteroles and molten chocolate cake and ice cream--in a restaurant filled with fairy lights that looked like something out of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

The next morning I had the most delicious mango bubble tea known to man (I have officially been spoiled and bubble tea anywhere other than Rabbit Cafe in Hong Kong is inadequate), and I was off to explore Central Hong Kong. The buildings all had unique stories (including one that was dubbed the "House of 1,000 assholes" due to its windows, which resembled ship portholes), and the park in the middle of it all was a haven for people watching. I met up with E. and S. for another delicious lunch of dim sum (there was an HOUR wait for this restaurant!). I tried chicken feet and had the best pork buns ever. We then went for a drive back to Repulse Bay and visited a famous hotel with a big square cut out of it (for Feng Shui purposes), and soaked in the view of the bay. Hong Kong has a multitude of surprisingly lush green spaces, though they come with an overwhelming price tag. We then wove our way over to Stanley to visit the famous Stanley Market. I purchased some art as gifts, and marveled at the price of pearls. We stopped for treats at a local bakery and then my new friends graciously drove me to the airport.

I was really sad to leave. I had been used to taking trips by myself, and while I certainly love traveling on my own, it was nice to be around kind, smart people who really showed off their city and took me to places where I would not have gone on my own. It was also nice to have someone taking pictures of me instead of having to ask the occasional random (and non-English-speaking) stranger. Their hospitality meant so much to me in a time when I had so many isolated moments, and struggled to find a community, and ate so many dinners alone.

It was a fabulous trip!

All Good Things

Things that are rocking my world right now:

*Teaching!! I love love LOVE teaching kindergarten! My Superstars are the most delicious morsels of human beings....we're going to go far this year!

*Running. Cambridge has some lovely sidewalks littered with crunchy autumn leaves. Evening and weekend runs are heaven.

*Broccoli cheddar soup and pumpkin soup from Au Bon Pain.

*French press coffee on weekend mornings.

*Homemade pumpkin bars, recipe courtesy of foodnetwork.com.

*Cranberry wine from the Three Lakes Winery in Wisconsin.

*Trader Joe's. Words cannot express how much I missed Trader Joe's while living in Bangkok!

*Fast Food Nation. I may be a bit behind the times, as this book has been around for some time....however, I HIGHLY recommend it to anyone who hasn't read it.

*My Fake Uggs from Target.

*

Return

Wow....it has been over two months since I have blogged! The space here feels like it actually belongs to someone else. So much has changed since I left Asia at the end of July! I have a job that I love, Peter and I are now happily living together, and I am beginning the slow work of getting back in touch with friends and family while my brain begins to process the last two years away.

I didn't think I wanted to continue blogging after I left Asia, since, well, my life is certainly not as exciting as it was over there. I most definitely yearn for my weekend jaunts to Burma, and haggling over jade elephants in markets, and buying strings of pearls without blinking an eye, and watching sunsets at temples. My camera is taking a well-deserved vacation, and I am trying to finish writing in my journal about trips that were not fully documented before they disappear into the abyss of anything that is outside of my present thoughts, wonderings, and work.

But, well, I realized that I missed blogging. Even though there may no longer be anyone listening due to my extended absence, I feel as though I have a lot from those two years that I still need to process, still need to document, and would still love to share with others. I have also realized that I need more in my life right now than just work and sleep. Don't get me wrong....my life right now feels full and busy and peaceful, and BURSTING with people and love and new ambitions. The peace of mind that I have now would not have been possible without the hard mental and emotional work that I did in Asia, and a bit of the Buddhist peace, the appreciation for the present, and the lack of hyper-focused tunnel vision that I found there has stayed with me. However, there were also many painful events and situations over there that my brain is now feeling safe enough to work through.

When Peter and I woke up this morning and went about our delicious weekend rituals, he told me that I seemed more Zen. Less overwhelmed by life and the universe and the scrambling logistics of adapting to an entirely new living and work situation after having been immersed in such a unique and different culture for two years. I feel more Zen. I feel present and awake and thoroughly satisfied, but it has definitely been an interesting adjustment period.

And so.....in honor of it being NaBloPoMo (though I don't think I will ever put myself through that in any sort of official capacity again...sheesh...) I officially resurrect my blog.

Whereupon I do not have the opportunity to add "Beekeeper" to my resume.....

I spent the last two days in Boston where I had two job interviews. I accepted a job and am therefore ecstatic to report that I will be gainfully employed for the 2009-2010 school year. I returned back to Minnesota yesterday and proceeded to slip in and out of consciousness for the next 6 hours. It was an exhausting time in Boston, full of lots of tough decisions, intensive scoping out of Peter's bachelor pad to determine where I will be putting my stuff, and one verrrrry long drive to check out a school where I ultimately declined their (totally awesome and stellar) offer. The best part, of course, was catching up with my bestest friend and gay husband, Andrew. Our friendship picked up where it left off, though clearly we have both grown significantly wiser in the three years since we lived in Phoenix (and somehow we've also gotten better looking....:) ), a statement which can be corroborated by the fact that the evening didn't end with me cradling my head in my hands to keep the world from spinning while we discuss Jungian archetypes or read passages from Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Yup. We used to be *those* people, and probably still are.....

I am tremendously excited about the year ahead, and I know it will be truly awesome. I feel so good about all of the decisions that I have made up to this point in my life, and I now feel ready to attack this next portion of my adulthood as I settle down with the love of my life, and get all of my ducks in a row to prepare for several new chapters in my professional life.

In other news, I ate a McFlurry and some Easy Mac for dinner tonight, and my stomach is having as hard of a time readjusting to food in the U.S. as it did adjusting to the food/water in Thailand. Granted, there are no parasites involved at this point, but still.

The world is incredibly different to me now. I guess it takes coming back to realize how much you've changed, how the old benchmarks by which you measured your existence or guaged your neuroses are no longer relevant. And I had remained so present in my experience and my life in Thailand, particularly during the last six months, that I sort of forgot about my frame of reference in the U.S. This isn't to say that I forgot about the people that I love here, or that I somehow lost myself. It's just that I became completely absorbed in these places, these cultures, and in my role as observer. It was a tremendously quiet time for me wherein I spent a lot of time contemplating and meditating and just watching (hence part of the reason why my blog went semi-neglected for so long). I was writing, but mainly in my pen and paper journal that was colored with ticket stubs and postcards and other assorted memorabilia. It was a respite, a retreat, and it was certainly not without its ups and downs. But it is astounding to me how thoroughly transformed I feel as I emerge from the other side of it all.

I miss Asia tremendously. TREMENDOUSLY. I think about my experiences there frequently, and I will still plan on writing about them here and in my journals. I am working on a memoir, but it may end up being something that is only for my eyes. We shall see. And obviously I gained a ton in my two years, and I have the Buddhas and stones and pearls and scarves and elephants and silk photo albums and fabulous clothes to prove it. And seriously, try not to vomit when I say this (no, you're gonna have to try pretty hard.....), but I think I will remember that time mostly in what I left behind. That is to say, there was a TON of demon wrestling that went on over there (which I didn't really write about on here, though I may have alluded to my various struggles once or twice, and written about some general life lessons), but I really feel like I left them in Thailand. Thailand absorbed a lot of my crap and helped me to transform it into something useful. Like fertilizer. Though I didn't literally mean, y'know, my crap......

Anyway.......

So there is a gratitude that gives my memories about Asia its particular pastel-colored shade, and even the difficult moments were worth it. I still have more to say about it all. Just because my time there is over doesn't mean that the storytelling has to be.

Thank you to those of you who were with me every step of the way!

You haven't heard the last of me.....bwahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Patriarch

I've been back in the U.S. for over a week now, and the first order of business (other than recovering from jet lag and eating lots of cheese) was a family reunion. And while the energy of this coming together was joyful, the reason for the occasion was my grandfather's memorial celebration and spreading of his ashes.

My grandfather's true gift and legacy was his understanding that, in the words of my uncle, water always seeks its own level. He was accepting and loved all of us unconditionally. He was involved in real estate and newspapers and lecturing at universities and advertising. He made important contributions to political advertising--his firm came up with the idea of the political bumper sticker and lawn sign as ways of increasing a candidate's exposure--and wrote a book on the subject. He wrote poetry and cared for my grandmother during her long illness, and was by her side until her very last breath. He wrote poems and had all kinds of girlfriends and was liberal with his flower purchases. We wrote to each other once a week during my senior year in college--a tradition that I wish we had continued.

He was a complete and utter optimist. He spent time in an orphanage when my great-grandmother, newly widowed, could not afford to care for her children. He spoke with fondness about his time in an orphanage, and told stories about difficult times with a positive slant.

I guess I'm surprised at how much I miss him, and how often he tends to appear in my thoughts. We all expected him to sail past 100. He was the picture of health all the way to the age of 90. During the past few years his health started to deteriorate, but none of us knew how sick he really was.

I spoke with him during his final lucid moments. I told him how much I loved him, he told me he was proud of me. He asked about how things were "over yonder," and I told him that I would always remember him, that I would tell my children all about him.

They just don't make 'em like him anymore. He had a wonderful life, a life that he loved, and he will be missed.

I wrote this poem and read it--while wearing one of his fabulous and colorful sport coats--before we buried his ashes under the apple tree where we buried my great-grandmother's--his mother's--ashes.

PATRIARCH

(For Grampsie--August 1st, 2009)

This moment is somehow impossible

A reflection of your impossible mortality

How is it that the plaid shape of your personality

The piercing blue of your kindness

The ebullient rumble of your belly laughs

The hearty handkerchiefs of your eccentricities

Are no longer here?

Your presence instead

Glides over the collected pool

Of our hearts in mourning, dark like water that has been thickened with night

Glides over all of us like the reflection of morning birds

Memories of you are light white pinpricks rippling the surface softly

And permanently

Your past actions continually shaping our present moments, our futures

Like ripples transforming into waves, lapping at the shoreline

The Bird Taxi

Our task was not a simple one: to somehow fill a small, energy efficient taxi with my landforms of suitcases--the various odds and ends and knick-knacks and tchotchkies and treasures and essentials from my two years in Thailand. Four huge suitcases, plus two small ones, plus Peter, plus me. It was like a problem-solving puzzle--shoving different suitcases into different places at different angles, deciding that a given solution wouldn't work, and pulling them back out again while the taxi bobbed under the weight like an exhausted beast of burden. These suitcases seemed to struggle and resist like stubborn livestock, and I found myself doing a guarded dance around them lest one of them decide to make a break for it. After thirty minutes of pushing and pulling and huffing and puffing, all of the suitcases plus two passengers plus a driver piled into the taxi. Its belly let out a rusty shudder before we proceeded out of the parking garage and down the fickle strip of Sukhumvit Road--its neckline jeweled in traffic lights and brake lights--bound for the hotel.

For a few minutes we all caught our breath, and I fashioned my body into a makeshift prop for the suitcase that was shoved against the door and threatening to topple over and crush both Peter and me. Once our collective heart rates had dropped below that of a drunk hummingbird, I began to look out the window and visually consume Sukhumvit road in sips and nibbles in the small blank space of window that was not covered by the monolith of luggage next to me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the driver fiddling with what I thought was the radio, until I saw the radio regurgitate a surprisingly large screen. The driver gingerly inserted a DVD while keeping divided attention (albeit not fairly divided) on the traffic in front of us. I was expecting Bollywood videos, or an instructional DVD for learning English, or even (this being Bangkok and all) porn. What popped up on the screen instead was a documentary about the birds of Papua, New Guinea. The narrator droned on in a soft, flute-y voice about mating habits and feathers and fruit preferences, and how these birds play a vital role in many of the cultural practices of a particular group in New Guinea.

It was absolutely the last thing in the world that I would have expected to see pop up as traffic entertainment, but the driver was completely (and much to my chagrin) transfixed.

I turned to Peter. "This would never happen anywhere else. Never. HOLY CRAP, it's stuff like this that I'm going to miss." He was apparently equally transfixed, as he shot me a quieting glance as the driver turned up the volume to block out my yapping.

One last gift of complete, total, and surprising randomness. Thailand maintained its mystery, its intrigue, its bottomless well of sights and experiences up until the very end. Nothing was ever boring or mundane. My eyes never suffered from want of fascinating things. Even taxi rides were an adventure. For that, Thailand will always be special to me--a topsy-turvy wonderland of nonsensical chaos coating a warm, creamy core of calm.

My next adventure? Maybe New Guinea......