Nearing a month since our arrival in Thailand, a landmark I can’t
believe is already here, I no longer feel like a guest. I feel like a
resident. Granted I’m still a foreigner separated by a vast language
barrier and still unaccustomed to some of the Thai’s cultural norms, but
I feel like a resident nonetheless. Besides the Thai people themselves,
I’ve also received a warm and muggy welcome from the mosquitoes. Since
we are well underway with rainy season, they’re beginning to rear their
Vampirish heads. For some reason, the first few weeks here were itch
free, but now that they too have seen that I’m not longer a guest but a
resident, the mosquitoes feel inclined to attack. Perhaps I should feel
flattered? Maybe the itchy scars on my feet and ankles will become my
souvenir. That being said, I am convinced that Hydro cortisone cream
doesn’t stop the itch or help with healing. Rather, it just tricks my
mind saying, “Do you really want to scratch those bites and get icky
cream all over your hands?”
The mosquitoes have been the least of my worries, though. Having heard
recently that I would have to leave our apartment, living arrangements
occupied the forefront of my thought. Dr. Nirund, our organization’s
director, visited Utaradit this week in hopes to find a place where
Kelsey and I both could live. Last Wednesday, as I raced my bike home in
the pouring rain to join the apartment hunt and look at a prospective
place, I got a text. It was Kelsey saying, “Relax! It’s perfect.” A
hotel/apartment complex, not 200 yards away from our current location,
had a room available in which we could both stay. God provides. The beds
even have real mattresses as opposed to showroom Styrofoam blocks!
(features of our current apartment that have caused quite the back
ache.) Oh how our mindsets shift when normalcy becomes luxury.
Hopefully, this will be our last move. Lugging a 50 pound suitcase up 3
flights of stairs is not my idea of fun. Most of all, I’m relieved that
we can finally have a place to unpack and officially call our Thai home
without fear of uprooting again. I’ve always been the type of person
who needs comfort and stability within situations (not in the physical
sense regarding material things, but regarding mental and emotional
ease.) I still like being a creature of habit, even though those habits
include cold showers. Another comforting thing we’ve incorporated into
our routine has been reading. When I met Kelsey Crow almost a year ago,
one of the first facts I learned about her was her devotion to Harry
Potter. Obsession, infatuation and mania don’t describe her loyalty. In
her words, she “lives it.” So imagine my predicament, when I, an
otherwise well-read English graduate, had to hang my head and say, “No,
I’ve never read Harry Potter, nor have I seen the movies.” So, here I
am, over a decade following the pandemonium, enjoying and being
captivated by the Harry Potter series, somehow still completely unaware
of their outcome. And that’s not the best part. Kels is reading them
aloud, a treat complete with various accents, inflection, discussion
topics, question & answer sessions and an anticipating voice (one
that knows all the secrets and won’t answer my incessant questions!) We
plan to read a book, watch its movie, etc. Every day, I can’t wait to
get home for our reading sessions. I’m not sure who enjoys it more.
Kesley, reading to a Potter novice, or me, listening to a Potter expert.
As enticing as Harry Potter is, we always canvas the city for dinner
first before returning home. We’ve grown accustomed to several places,
knowing exactly what pictures to point to and what to expect when we’re
handed a plate. This week though, one of the girls from my school came
home to spend the afternoon with us. Nook, a girl who isn't even in any
of my classes, struck up a conversation with me one day, and we've been
buddies ever since. Funny how the only girl I knew before we left
Lampang was also named Nook. Anyhow, the rain was falling in heavy
sheets the second we left school. We floated up to our apartment and
waited for the storm to pass before heading out to dinner. Finally,
sporting our ponchos, jackets and umbrellas, we made the short trek to
town. This would be the first time we had a native Thai speaker along to
interpret the menus. After I told Nook the ingredients I liked, the
cook arrived with a bowl of the yummiest Thai food I'd had all week, Tom
Yum Gung. This soup is filled with shrimp, fish, lemon grass, lime
leaves and coconut milk, combining an authentic mixture of spice, sweet,
sour and salt. Masterpiece in a bowl. After dinner, I listened as Nook
communicated with the store owner. The sweet man snagged a University
passer-by and had him write something on a sheet of paper. After a few
moments, the store owner returned with the menu's Thai scrawl translated
into English so we could order for ourselves. We bowed our heads and
thanked him profusely. We will most definitely be back to visit such an
accommodating food stand as this one.
Another naughty food we've discovered is Thai ice cream. Fortunately
(or unfortunately) the supposed best one in the city is only steps from
our apartment. Thai ice cream as a unique texture, but it is more-so
famous for it's queer toppings. Even "toppings" isn't a technically
accurate term considering that the extras are put at the bottom of the
bowl. Candied pumpkin, kernels of corn, a mysterious black jelly,
pinwheels of fruit that resemble mushrooms, and several other
identifiable things. I find myself searching for the Oreos and
Butterfinger but to no avail. Thankfully, we've discovered a topping (or
bottomer?) that surpasses even m&m's and cookie dough. And that, my
friends, is sweet sticky rice. Sweet rice, died the color blue, topped
with tiny scoops of coconut ice cream, a splash of sweetened condensed
milk and peanuts create the most palatable dessert on the planet. It was
worth the price of the plane ticket, folks.
Unless you join me here in Thailand (Something you should
consider doing. Start saving now. I will be here one year!) you can
never quite grasp what we see each day. Short of strapping a camera on
my head as we walk down the crowded streets, markets and hallways of our
classrooms, you can never understand the things we see. Not necessarily
all are shocking, but a lot of them are. Everything from fashion, to
transportation, to lifestyle, to cleanliness, to stray dogs, to the
little girls with whom I spend my day. . .
It is drastically different.
Though this culture shock leaves my head spinning most days, I'm
brought to a complete halt when I check my email to find that Noon has
emailed me again to practice her English, apologizing for her poor
grammar before each farewell. "If I use what is wrong because I had
speak little English. Don't forget write me back. Love Noon."
Or when Poppy, another sweet student crawls into my office, sits at my
feet and asks to sing Jason Mraz with me. Turning on the song and
somehow hearing every English word clearly through the mouth of a child
who can't otherwise communicate with me, is a humbling thing, and I
can't begin to describe how my heart feels afterward