A Look Back Part 2

Story
Title: The Clinic, The Food, and The Mud

Date: 08/09/2011

There are so many things I want to tell you all about! 

Today is day two of work at the clinic.  I get woken up at 5:45 in the morning by one of the house mothers to go meditate, but have skipped out on the meditation for the last two days and have been using her as my alarm clock instead.  It takes me that long to get ready in the mornings.  First I have to crawl out of my mosquito net, shake out the blankets from the bugs that managed to get through the net, and then put everything back.  Then I have to try to bathe.  I haven't really figured out the most efficient way of doing this just yet.  There isn't a shower.  I have a bucket and a bowl.  To wash my damn thick hair I have to bend over and stick my head in the bucket.  It is pretty comical, really. 

After the bathing ritual I do laundry so that the clothes can air dry during the day.  Again, I use my bucket with the water that I used to rinse off with.  At least I am resourceful.  Then at 7am I head to the clinic and get bombarded with all the "sick" kids.  Most of them aren't sick, they just want the honey water that Didi gives them for sore throats.  But a couple I am kind of worried about.  One has heart problems and has been running a fever and coughing for a couple days.  He is pretty susceptible to infections because of his heart.  He had some sort of open heart surgery, but I don't know which kind.  So far we are just watching him and giving him honey water and grapefruit seed oil.  A lot of the kids have cuts and wounds that I have to bandage.  Wound care here at BU is something very different.  They don't use gloves for one thing, and they spend what seems like hours just cleaning the cut.  I insist on wearing gloves, most of the time.  Luckily none of the children are HIV+ at this time, and most have been cleared of other infections as well.  I don't think it is that we don't have access to gloves, I just think that it isn't the way they are used to doing things.  Anyway... many people, old and young come in with big crappy wounds.  Things that back in the US I would want to treat with IV antibiotics if I were a doctor.  But here the Didi uses green clay.  And guess what?  It works!  Better than anything I've seen back home, and much quicker. 

Today and yesterday were mostly spent re-organizing the clinic.  There are so many files that need to either be filed or put away, and so, so, so many medications that aren't used.  People donate meds to us but don't know that we are all homeopathic, the Didi doesn't even know how to use any of them.  But that might be changing.  With my western medicine background and her eastern medicine background we are already compromising on things and learning a ton from eachother.  I give Paracetamol (Tylenol) to the kids with fevers and headaches.  I want to start using antibiotic cream on some of the wounds I see, just because what happens is the kids get mosquito bites, they scratch them, they open, and then they go out into the jungle and the open areas become ridden with whatever bacteria lives out there.  Probably parasites too.  There are bottles and bottles of antibiotics that we don't use either (but could be used for one of the house mothers who has real bad tonsilitis).

So, at about 9ish, after the kids go to school, I head down to breakfast which consists of rice, potatoes, and veggies of all sorts.  If I had any illusion that I was going to get skinny while here, that has for sure vanished.  The same type of meal is served for lunch, except for a few fried things thrown in for fun, and the same for dinner.  I absolutely LOVE the food.  It is a combination of Thai, Burmese and Karen.  The spices they use are incredible and nothing is too spicy. 

After breakfast I go back to the clinic and make "rounds", check on the kids who are sick and who stayed home from school.  The house mothers determine who is too sick to go to school.  I will forever be grateful for these women.  These are usually single mothers who have no where else to go so they live here with the kids.  They have a set group, usually about 5 kids to each room.  Some of the house mothers are very young, like 15.  Others are older and sort of lead the younger ones around.  It is a matriarchal culture. 

Today I had some time while the kids were at school so I made the trek to town through the mud, it has been raining all day.  I can't wait to take more pictures of the amazing landscape.  We are surrounded by green hills shrouded in clouds after the rain lets up.  There is a lake in front and in back, and I will have to look at the map, but I am pretty sure it is the same lake.  Everything is green.  Except for the mud.  The mud is red, a lot like Kauai.  It stains everything it comes into contact with also.  Hence the laundry every morning.

The kids get home around 3 and again raid the clinic for more honey water or lemons or apples.  And of course more of them have cuts and scrapes from school.  Today I wanted to go to yoga at 5:30, but was too busy with the kids.  The Didi teaches yoga and meditation every Tuesday and Saturday to all the long-term volunteers.  I tried to go later but got lost and was covered head to toe in mud anyway. 

Oh, the dogs.  Let me tell you about the dogs.  And the cats.  There are like 20 of them living here that I've managed to count.  They are actually pretty well taken care of from what I can tell.  Some are pups, some are old, some kittens, and a big cat that lives in the basement called "Puss".  I don't know any of their names, but, then again I don't know any of the children's names either. 

The one child I was talking about last time is actually a boy.  They say he is "slow".  It is so hard to tell.  I think actually he might have a hearing problem because of the way he talks and gestures.  He is so incredibly sweet though.  He seems to have latched on to me like glue.  He recognizes me and remembers that I took pictures of him and so I don't think he can be that slow.  There is also an 8 month old baby who has down syndrome that was dropped off on our porch when he was 2 days old.  This happens many times with many children.  They get sick or they are born sick and their parents are from Burma with no papers and no money, so they just leave them here.  Which is better than the alternative... I am sure you know the alternative, but don't need me to write here. 

We have 150 kids here.  Another organization in town, Children of the Forest, has 150 kids.  Another organization provides relief work for some of the migrant families and helps to pick kids up in the mornings and take them to school.  That's about 600 kids total that are safe, in a town with a population of 10,000.  You do the math.  And if you want to know what they are safe from, just google Burmese refugees and living conditions in border towns.

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On that note... I best be off to bed.  Or to eat, since I missed dinner.  Not that I need food.  Fatty. 

Thank you ALL for your continued love and support.  If you want to help me or the organization send me an email and I will tell ya how.

Love,
Ani

A look back...

Story
Title: Sangkhlaburi.

Date: 08/07/2011

I arrived in S'buri last night after a 7 hour bus ride from Bangkok.  I was instructed to get a motor bike taxi to the Baan Unrak bakery, which I did, and they were supposed to call the Didi and tell her I was there.  But they couldn't get a hold of Didi so they put me up in a little tiny room with concrete walls, duct tape over the cracks, plastic on the floor, and a twin bed with a mat about an inch thick, two blankets and nothing else.  I nearly ran back to Colorado at that point.  There was no internet and my phone still won't work.  On top of it all I have a total of 20 mosquito bites that are driving me insane and I am praying I don't have malaria or dengue fever (I don't, I'm just over dramatizing).  So I took a benedryl and resolved to call it a night at 8:30.  Just then I hear a knocking at my door and there is Didi with 5 children, all there to collect me.  She said they had a room all set up at the orphanage for me, and so I hopped in the truck and we drove up to the childrens home were I was presented with a much bigger, and slightly nicer room, with a private bathroom and balcony.  The kids helped me set up my mosquito net and fan, and I felt much better.

Now it is 24 hours later and I think I am feeling numb.  I am in shock that I am here and that I am living in these conditions, although, to be honest, I expected worse.  They feed me well, the kids are slowly getting used to my presence, and they even gave me today off to assimilate even though there are several sick children and only one doctor that could use my help.  I walked 30 minutes to the town and bought a blanket, a pillow, 2 towels, 2 washcloths, a rice mat for my concrete floor, some writing paper, incense, a plate, bowl and cup, and toilet paper all for 600 baht, or $9.  Now my little room feels more like home, although at some point I will have to do something about the bathroom.  It smells of raw sewage and is stained with god knows what on the walls.  This room used to be one of the kids' rooms, so there are kids dirty hand prints everywhere.  The bathroom door is half eaten away by termites and the empty bunkbed next to my bed is crawling with them as well.  There is no shower, I get to take sponge baths for the next six months, which kind of blows because I feel so dirty... all.the.time.  Dirty from sweat, dirty from bug spray, dirty from dirt.  The door to my balcony doesn't close so there are bugs as well as geckos in here.  I feel surprisingly safe in my mosquito net though.

  But, all in all, it could be worse and I am actually pretty OK with it all right now.  It's like camping, only a bit better.  And I get to fall asleep to the sounds of crickets and laughing children.

I met another volunteer today who is 23 and from Nepal.  He is very smart and I am very impressed with him doing this at such a young age.  He committed to one full year at Baan Unrak.  He is in charge of the boys, well some of them.  He watches them and plays with them from dawn till dusk, 7 days a week.  We ate breakfast and dinner together and talked about American politics, different languages, currency rates, and what the kids do on a daily basis.  So far he is my lifeline for information as both of the Didi's are swamped with sick kids, not sick kids, sponsors, trying to get sponsors, house mothers, trying to get house mothers and always worrying about the budget.  I'm pretty good at holding my own, so hopefully I can continue to do so.  I have a feeling that the reason they put me up at the orphanage instead of the volunteer house is because this is going to be a 24/7 job.  If emergencies arise at night I might be the one that gets called.  As it is already the children burst into my room every five minutes.  There is one in particular who won't leave me alone.  The problem is, is that I am not entrirely sure if she is a he or a she.   He/she has a shaved head from the lice, is about 9 years old, and doesn't speak but two words of English: "Picture?" and "Eat".  I am pretty sure she is a girl, so we'll go with that for now.  I am also pretty sure she lived a very tough life before this one.  Not only does she not speak English, but she doesn't speak any other language either.  She has this little whine that comes out when she wants you to do something and uses hand gestures often.  When we were taking pictures using photobooth she didn't smile in any of them.  I wonder if she was taught to look sad in photos so people would take pity on her?  I want to know her story, but I don't even know her name, or her real gender for that matter.  This is going to be hard, this language thing.

The kids all range from tiny babies to about 16 or 17 years old.  Most of them are elementary school age.  It is really interesting how they are taking me being here.  One of the first questions out of their mouths, if they speak English, is: "how long will you be here?' So many volunteers come and go;  there is a group called ISV that ships new volunteers out every two weeks.  This place definitely needs the help, but I can tell it has an effect on the children.

There really is so much more to say, like how the town looks, and how beautiful the lake is.  Or about the long, hand built wooden bridge to the Mon side of the town.  But I am tired, and I have to be up at 6am to meditate and then be at work by 7am.  So off to bed I go.

Time goes by...

It has been over six months now since we made the move to America.  I had vowed to write more when we came here, but somehow the desire slips away just as the life I once led slipped away.  I've mentioned it several times before, how it's impossible to live two lives at once.  I feel it so much now, much more than I ever have.  When I am here, I am here.  I guess that's not totally bad.

So, I'll start from the beginning.

We arrived to LA on our 3 year anniversary.  Travel though China was hell as they held poor Amon hostage in the Shanghai airport for nearly 24 hours and sent Asher and I through.  It was one of the worst nights of my life, I won't lie.  But it was soon over and then we got to California and made it through the immigration line smoothly.  We stayed in LA for about 3 days, and Amon got to see America at its finest.  Ha.  He seemed to enjoy it actually, but was super jetlagged so it was hard to tell, maybe he was just delirious the entire time.

When we got to Colorado I immediately set forth finding a car, signing Asher up for daycare, going to official job interviews and seeing all my friends again.  Amon started working with my dad pretty much right off the bat, and we fell into a good rhythm.  Asher seemed to fit right in at his new school (it was the same one he had gone to when we were here for 6 months in 2015), and it was really enjoyable to spend time traveling around and showing Amon beautiful Colorado before I started working full-time.  It was funny too.  Showing him how to turn on the oven, how to use the dishwasher, how to put gas in the car, opening a bank account, going grocery shopping, driving on the right side of the road.  All the little nuances that we know so well, I had to teach him from step one.

In October we moved to Denver, closer to my work (fuck that hour long commute at 8am after working 14 hours overnight).  I found an awesome little preschool for Asher, and the sweetest little duplex across the street from Sloan's Lake and right around the corner from US Thai, a Thai restaurant.  When we were in Thailand and I was spending endless hours on the internet researching our future life in the states, I imagined just this life:  Living here in this neighborhood, Amon working at this restaurant, and Asher going to that little school.  Our mind is a powerful thing let me tell you.

So yes, Amon got the job at the restaurant, Asher started school, I started working at a hospital finally and life was pretty sweet.

I say was.

I guess it still has sweet moments.  And I hate to sound dire.  It's not all that bad.  Amon just does not enjoy it here.  Just like I did not enjoy it in Thailand.  I completely understand.  But now I am on this side of the coin and I would be lying if I said it wasn't worse than it was when I was there.  Sometimes I think I never would have done this to him if I knew he would be so miserable.  I knew there was a chance of it, I stayed up at night before we left, worrying and worrying about it.  I knew that I could not reasonably take a jungle boy out of the jungle an expect him to be completely happy.  Maybe I am just selfish?  No, I know I am not.  It's my turn to experience the life I want, it's all about compromise in any relationship, but especially so in a cross cultural one.  But his heart just isn't here.  He has changed.  He is not the happy go lucky, positive and outgoing person I met and fell in love with.  I feel awful for turning him into a negative nancy, someone who stays home all the time, who hasn't made any friends, who probably feels like he is in a prison.  He sees all the horrible that is America (and there is a lot right now thanks), and he further recedes into himself.  I sometimes feel like I stole his happiness in exchange for my own.

We still enjoy going to the mountains on our days off and still have so much to see and do.  There is a whole country to travel around, there's camping to be done, shows at Red Rocks to be seen, picnics in the park to be had.  Summer is around the corner and as the flowers bloom, so does my hope that my husband just might adjust to this life.

He will go back to Thailand in May, and our hope is that it will give him perspective.  He still focuses on saving his money to build us that house in Sangkhla, to give us that life that I so longed for while we were there.  But the more time goes on, the more embedded I get into this life here.  There's the never ending question of Asher's schooling, and I will be going back to school in June.  I started looking into buying a house, a fixer-upper that could keep Amon busy.  There is even a master's program in Women's Health that would fulfill so many of my own dreams and desires.  I try not to get ahead of myself, but I can't help but be excited about the possibilities and the future that America offers me and Asher, and Amon too if he chose to accept it.

I wish there was some way for us both to be happy, to be content in each other's home.  But I know from living his life, that I would never be 100% happy there, just as I can't expect him to be 100% happy here.  I guess what I am aiming for at this point is 50/50.

Also, I have to say that I do miss Sangkhla sometimes.  I miss the simplicity, the community, the friends, a happy husband, the jungle and freedom.  All things I knew I would miss.  Asher is losing his Thai, and he is becoming an American whether I like it or not.  A fly flew into the house the other day and he freaked out.  If only he remembered where he came from.  He watches way too much TV, simply because we have one.  I am far busier and gone a lot (which is good on a lot of levels), and miss out on my one on one time with my son.  We spent nearly 3 years of his life sitting in that little room in Sangkhla, and we bonded and I was creative and we were always outside.  I do miss that.

I don't know where we go from here, but I will try to keep this blog up to date more frequently.  And I apologize for the negativity.  I so wish I could post always about rainbows and butterflies, I guess we just have to look deep to see them sometimes.

Thanks for reading <3

What I will miss

I tend to focus a lot... OK, more than a lot, on what I do not like about Sangkhlaburi, and Thailand in general.  It is for sure a hard life, as you've seen in previous posts.  But there really is so much, so much, I appreciate.  I am sorry I have eluded you all into thinking this place is god-awful.  It's not.  I mean yeah, the power goes out daily, the water is brown, the education sucks is lacking, and the culture is at times mind-boggling.  But, here are a few of the things I will miss, and what will probably bring us back to Thailand one day.

1.  The community.  My goodness I cannot emphasize this enough.  Anywhere we go in this little village we have people looking out for us.  If my motorbike runs out of gas, boom, 3 seconds later I have a ride to the marker to get more.  If Asher goes out into the street, the neighbors will grab him, in fact, anyone walking by will grab him and bring him home.  We cannot drive 2 feet without someone honking at us to say hello, asking us if we've eaten yet.  People stop and lean down on Asher's level and talk with him, give him hugs, and generally let him know his is treasured.  If something were to happen to any one of us, the community would step up in a heart beat.  If I got into a crash or something, someone would be on the phone to Amon or at our doorstep within seconds to let him know. We are always being fed.  We would never go hungry because we can just pop into a friend's house, without notice, and they will feed us.  Our front door is always open (except at night) for the same reason.  If Amon needs help moving or working or getting me food when I am sick, all it takes is one phone call and we have friends available, no strings attached. 

2. The importance and understanding of children.  Asher is a maniac guys.  Like, he is pretty much unstoppable on a day to day basis.  He doesn't walk, but runs, where ever we go.  He is constantly grabbing, snatching, touching, bouncing... on everything.  Yet, I have not heard one complaint.  Not one.  Not one person has said "you need to control your child", not one person has given me a dirty look for having a very active little boy.  There is a general understanding that this is normal, completely normal behavior.  He will never be diagnosed with ADHD here, because it doesn't exist.  We were at a friend's house the other night for a birthday party and Asher was going insane after having a piece of sugary cake.  I'm talking full on running in circles, shouting, swinging on a random rope in the room, and being quite obnoxious.  I was getting a little nervous, like, um, we need to leave, ASAP before he breaks someone.  But Amon and his friends just sat and laughed, "what a cutie!"  "Very naughty!"  "Very strong boy, that is so good."  Will I ever hear those phrases in relation to my wild child again? 

3.  Gender neutrality.  Everyone knows Thailand is famous for Ladyboys right?  But they aren't just in strip clubs, like we are led to think in the west.  No, they are a part of the every day fabric that makes up this country.  They are TV hosts, superstars, and your every day cashier.  They are you and me, and guess which restroom they use?  I don't know, and no one cares!  Often men and women will share bathrooms here without a second glance.  The same is true of lesbians, or "Tom" as they say in Thai.  LGBTQ and whatever you identify yourself with is so completely accepted by everyone, it is such a nonissue.  I can dress my son in pink and put a pony tail in his hair and never do I hear a "that's too girly", or any statement of the sort.  Amon still wears his hair in pony-tails, like the high up spout kind that children wear, and I think it's the most awesome thing ever.  He also wears headbands on occasion.  He is never called "gay", his sexuality is never called into question because of the way he dresses, as it should be.  I really wish the West would catch on in this department. 

4. The selfless-ness and pure generosity.  I've touched on this before, but seriously, just can't get over it.  Someone with nothing to give will literally give you the shirt off their back if you needed it.  A family with very little to eat will invite you into their home and feed you, because that's what you do.  And don't you dare turn them down, that's rude.  One for me and one for you is so common-place.  Often times it's more like, two for you, none for me, all with a wide smile.  Too many examples flood my mind, but one in particular merits a story:  I used to do relief work in the jungle, bringing rice and beans and medicines to old people or people who didn't have any work.  I am talking dirt poor people, with just a roof over their heads, if that.  But this one little old lady, whenever we went to her house she would give us the limes from her tree.  She could sell those  and make a little money, but no, she gave us stacks every time we came.  There was no if and or buts about it either, you took those limes home with you and you made freaking limeaide.  And the smiles... oh my, the smiles.  I will miss those, so much.

Asher and one of his favorite "Yai's"- Grandmother in Thai.

Five Years in the Making

Well folks, it's been five years.  I can't believe it myself.  What was supposed to be a six month stint as a volunteer in Thailand has turned into five of the hardest, most challenging and most beautiful and rewarding years of my life.  Without a doubt.  And now, this chapter is coming to a close.  Almost five years to the date, ironically enough, we are about to venture off into another world, another land, where our roles will reverse, where our lives will do a complete 180.  We are scared, but we are excited for this new beginning.

I thought I'd write about what all these past five years have encompassed.  I may have written this list of "achievements" in another blog, but that was long ago, certainly before Asher.  So I've added to it and amended it.

In the past five years I have:

Run a clinic in a children's home for one year
Organized medical outreach for the surrounding villages
Learned Thai and some Burmese
Mass vaccinated the children of Baan Unrak
Carried an 11 year old boy on my back for at least 2 miles up a muddy track after his foot got smashed between the back of the truck and a rock.  That was fun times.  Oh did I mention that rumor had it that two weeks prior two little girls were beheaded on this track by Burmese soldiers?
Been chased by several rabid dogs down a road made of sand after just learning to drive a motorbike.
Slept on more concrete floors than I can remember.
Now think that a bamboo house is a luxury
Been stranded on roads due to a broken down motorbike and been helped by complete strangers within minutes.
Drove five hours in the muddy Shan cliffs and hills of Burma during a war.
Gotten accepted to work with MSF (Doctors Without Borders)
*Given birth in a completely rural (although private) hospital, without pain medication or even the option for pain medication.
 Been chased out of Burma by a soldier with a very large gun. 
Jumped off bridges, swam in waterfalls, danced in the rain, on a regular basis.
Lived without hot water, a fridge, a washing machine or a stove for over a year.  And still don't have half of those things!
Thought cheese was/is a luxury
Learned how to build a bamboo house
Lived as a single parent in a foreign country with no friends or family.  The hardest thing I have ever done, without a doubt.

And so many more things I have learned and experienced and lived to tell the tales of!  I can't imagine where I would be now if I hadn't made that choice 6 years ago to apply to volunteer at this strange children's home in the middle of nowhere.  Did I ever tell you the story of how I ended up here?

 Well, I had always wanted to come to Thailand (after reading that horrible book called "The Beach"... don't ask me) and it took several years but then it just happened.  I was working as a hospice nurse doing home hospice and I got a patient transferred to me from another nurse.  I didn't want this patient at all, I threw a hissy fit, because of the stories that other people told.  Cockroaches in the house, a huge language barrier, more kids than rooms in their tiny Aurora apartment in a dangerous neighborhood.  But then I got to know the most beautiful people I've ever met.  This man and his family changed my life.  They were Karen refugees from Burma, having been transplanted to Denver via the UNHCR because the father was sick with ALS.  Every time I did a visit with him it would take hours, we had to find a translator, often resorting to the language line, and the learning curve was huge.  But then I started learning more about their story and their history and culture and I fell for it.  I would stay after hours and sit and chat with them, I would make it a point to make him my last visit of the day so I could learn more about these people.  They would show me videos of life in Burma, the endless wars, they would go to 7-11 and buy me hotdogs (I was a vegetarian!) because that's how you do it in their culture, you feed your guests.  And I could see that this was a very special family.  I then decided to make that life long dream come true and started looking at places to volunteer in Thailand.  I looked up volunteering with Karen refugees, and, after weeks of searching I happened upon Baan Unrak.  In Sangkhlaburi, surrounded by refugee camps and 15 minutes from the border to Burma. Perfect. 

And the rest is history.

The Karen father who inspired this has since died, and I have tried several times to visit his family but they have moved.  And now I am bringing back my own Karen family.  Kind of crazy how things turn out.

*By the way, if you would like to read my birth story, and other incredible stories of travelers and their health care endeavors in other worlds, please check out the book Achoo! by my very good friend Taylor Chase.  You can buy it here.  It is only $0.99 and the proceeds go to charity. 

Inspirational Quotes can kiss my...

I've been seeing a lot of these "inspirational quotes" on my Facebook wall for some time now.  I had previously agreed with them (I even had a "leap and the net will appear" postcard on my literal wall at home for many years), but now they are getting obnoxious.  I don't need an "inspiration for the day", my life should suffice enough. 

The one that really gets my goad, so to speak, is this one:

This is good for my fellow young, or not so young, Americans.  Give up everything you have, forget about your future, and just go.  Hell, I did it.  It's why I am currently sitting here, in a tiny village in Thailand, writing a blog post.  Sounds romantic as hell doesn't it?

No.  It's not.  It's by far the hardest and stupidest thing I have ever done.  I had it going good before I left.  I was making 65k a year, had a nice car, took international vacations twice a year, was on track to being a millionaire by the time I was 65.  Granted I was younger, had no kids, and worked 50+ hour weeks.  I did not enjoy my job per say, but I enjoyed the work I did.  It was OK.

It's all about experience though isn't it?  If I'd never decided to quit my job, move to Thailand, I wouldn't have my son, or my husband, who I love dearly.  My life would be easier, in so many ways I cannot even count, but I wouldn't have the two most precious things in my life.  But what I don't have is a savings account, I barely get by month to month, we are always struggling for money.  I don't have a retirement fund any longer (I cashed it out to buy land here, which I thought was a good investment but has since tanked since the drought).  I worry about when I get older and have nothing in my name to speak of, to take care of me except poor Asher.  Let's also mention here that I miss my family like hell.  My son will never be as close to his grandparents, his auntie and his uncle as some other kids are.  I miss my friends and the normality of my culture, the nuances that make up every day life for us in America.  I know marriage is hard, but add to that a completely different culture and beliefs, well sometimes it's enough to make me want to quit.  To the short of it: I will never be 100% happy again.  Never.  I will always be homesick, missing one place, one set of family, one life, for the rest of my life.  It's a fact that I've come to burden.

Another one that really gets to me:

Did you know that about 80% of the world makes just enough money to eat and sleep under a roof each night?  God, this is such first world thinking.  To have the privilege to just quit your job and move away.  To what?  To experience how the rest of the world lives in poverty?  You won't experience it until you live it.  And you won't live it till you live it, which you can't because you are not them.  For example, a nice little Karen family here makes 4,000 baht ($112) per month.  And that's decent, average wages here.  They live in a bamboo house that they built themselves, probably borrowing money from someone to do so.  A bamboo house costs around 10,000 baht ($280).  They don't have a mortgage, but they may have a motorbike they have to pay 500 baht ($14) per month for at 5% interest.  That leaves 3,500 ($98) for petrol, food, and school supplies for the kids.  There is no eating out, there is no saving money, they literally live hand to mouth because it is the only way they can live.  There is no chance of getting out of it.  If you are poor, you stay poor.  Period, end of discussion.  There are no education opportunities to "further themselves".  Even those lucky enough to have gone to university still work in the market making 4,000 baht per month.  An addition to this is that many of these people are stateless... they literally cannot leave this tiny town, even if they had the means and the desire.  It's a dead end. 

The ability, or even the idea, of quitting and going somewhere else is so foreign to most of the world.  They are happy enough in their own small communities, they know they don't have much, but they make do.  If only we could find that happiness and contentedness in our own lives instead of having to "quit" or "dive" or "fall and the net will appear". 

So I guess, think twice before you "quit your job, buy a ticket, get a tan, fall in love and never return".  Plus, skin cancer is on the rise, so I'd just go ahead and skip the tan anyway. And here's a nice article on why not to go into an intercultural marriage.

Does anyone else have any insight on this?  I'd love to hear!

Renewed, and renewed again

Do you ever look back to a time in your life and shudder?  To think, I went through that.  At the time it didn't feel so awful, but looking back you realize how utterly miserable you were?  Well, that's what's happening now with me, in respect to living in Krabi.  If I've ever made a right decision, it was the one to move back to Sangkhla.  Bugs, mold, dirt and illness be dammed, at least I am safe, with family.  Granted Krabi is still very fresh in my mind, so maybe my feelings toward the place will ease up a bit with time, but it is vaguely reminiscent of the time when I lived in San Fransisco for a year when I was 20, the memory still leaves a slightly bad taste in my mouth.

It ended badly, my time there.  I have never been one to start fights or make disagreements known to the general public, but lately I've been speaking my mind.  It seems that people don't appreciate this as much as I do.  The nursery I was working at was a sham, a "montessori school" that charged parents too much and was actually just a big room filled with broken toys.  Somewhere along the line I realized how miserable we were there, after a visit to Sangkla where we felt warmth and love that we'd been craving, and I decided to leave Krabi.  All the drama ensued at my place of employment after I gave my three week notice.  Apparently three weeks is short of standard, and I was treated with such disrespect, such catty-ness, that I really should have just walked out.  At the end I never got paid for those last three weeks, all because of some gossip surrounding my outspoken-ness.  Well, so be it.  Some people just love to be miserable and create misery wherever they go.

Anyhow, the one good thing about Krabi was Asher's school.  It was a true Montessori school and he learned so much there.  We are trying to keep up with teaching him at home, but I know I fall short in a lot of ways.  He is so much happier though, he is with his Papa, and that bond is so incredible I don't know how I could have taken it away from them for so long.  Asher will start to go to the local nursery next month, and I am a bit more than apprehensive about that, but if I don't try I won't know.  At the very least he will learn more Thai, which is really important to Amon and I.  He's also learning his native language, Karen, and all about jungle life.  And that, in this world of chaos, is so important to me.  That he know how to build a house out of bamboo, which plants he can eat, how to use a machete... OK, OK, I know, he's only two.  But still, these are the life skills I admire so much in my husband.

As far as my life, for now I am taking a breather.  I know I don't deserve this, I don't deserve anything actually, but I need it.  I need to be still and just... breathe.  For a minute.  For the last 2 weeks I have been truly living in the moment, really trying not to worry or obsess over the future or the past, and let me tell you, these have been the happiest two weeks in recent memory, without a doubt.  It's unfortunate that that kind of thinking is not sustainable for me though.  I do need to figure out something for a job, if not for money (we actually do need that, I suppose), then for getting out and doing something again.  There are some options on the horizon, but for the time being I will be finally setting up Amon's tour.  We'll see where that goes, but my hopes are high.  I have also put my name and face back out to the NGO community where I hope to get some volunteer gigs, and teaching English to little ones in now something I actually have experience in, so bring that on too if need be.

Life is funny.  No matter how hard I try to run away from certain places, people, and environs, I am continuously called back.  I am not done here.  What is it that Sangkhlaburi, this little village in the jungle, has to teach me? 

Gratitude

I meant to write this post last week when I was truly feeling grateful for this town, this country, these people... But now I am sort of feeling blah.  So I will write to remember, to remind myself how fortunate I am.

People ask me a lot these days why do I stay here?  If the goal was to still be with Amon while living in a more modern city, seeing as that didn't work out, why stay?  Well, it is a question I ponder often.  Especially on nights where Asher is being a two year old and I had a day full of two year old tantrums and it's raining and we're out of milk and so on.  But there are reasons that I stay.

The first is Amon.  Even though we don't see him daily, we still get to see him more than if we were in the states.  He does not yet have a visa (the petition for immigration was approved but still has to go through visa processing which can take another 6-12 months), so he could not come with us and us coming back to visit would be slim to none as I would be a single mom and we all know how that worked out the first time around.  I feel like that would ultimately tank our relationship.

The second reason I stay is for Asher.  While I make very little money (roughly $700 a month), I can still afford a new two-bedroom apartment within walking distance to town, school, shops and a park in a safe neighborhood.  Imagine what that costs in the states?  I can also afford to send him to a bilingual Montessori nursery which I KNOW I could not even come close to affording in the US of A.  I am also 20 minutes away from pristine, white sand beaches.  There are activities of all sorts that cater to tourists that I can join in as well.  Because of the huge tourism market there are tons of expats here in the same situation as me, and I can get a whole lot done a whole lot easier than in the states.  For example.  Renting a car or motorbike?  Easy, just pay, leave a copy of your passport and bam, done in 5 minutes. 

Thai language is another reason.  Asher is half-Thai after all, and I really think it is important for him to gain as much of it as possible.  It is a pity that there isn't any Karen spoken here, because actually, Asher is half Karen, but I had to give that up for a better quality of life.  I am aware however, that to become fully fluent in a language it take 7-8 years.  So that would mean staying here for another 5-6 years.  That's not really what I want.  Hopefully Amon will get his visa before then and we can all go to the states together and Asher can speak Thai with his father.  Hopefully.

The friendliness of Thai people is a huge reason that I stay.  The day I was going to write this I was inspired by my motorbike mechanic.  As you may or may not know my bike decided to die on me while I was at a busy stoplight the other day.  So I pushed the bike to the side of the road, thought for a moment, looked around for a parking spot thinking I would just abandon it till later, when I saw a mechanic, not 20 feet away.  So I pushed my bike it, told him what happened, and said I needed to catch a taxi to pick up my son.  He said no problem, just come back before six.  So anyway, I come back with Asher and they tell me the problem (I had put the wrong kind of gasoline in it) and the cost to fix and then asked me how I was going to get home.  I said I would just hail a taxi (by the way, they aren't taxis, they are pick up trucks with benches in the back that go along a specific route.  I guess more like a bus?)  And the mechanic tried to hail one for me.  After about 5 minutes of trying the older mechanic hopped onto his sam-low (three wheeled motorbike) and gave us a ride home. To our door.  The next day, after the craziness of trying to get to work and back to the shop, I noticed the mechanic who was working on my bike.  The guy is paralyzed from the waist down.  His legs lie limp in his rusted out wheelchair.  I can see his diaper peeking from his backside.  His arms are strong from all the pushing he has to do.  Turns out this is his shop.  He opened it after he was paralyzed figuring he could still work on bikes from his chair. 

I just so admire the tenacity, the strength of character Thai people have.  You got dealt a shitty hand in life, deal with it.  I donno, but after working in a nursing home in Boulder half filled with alcoholics and drug addicts who were living the lap of luxury and still going out to panhandle every day... I just want to shout at them all, Get a grip!  Grow up! 

The quality of life seems to be better here, I mean generally and overall.  The Buddhists are all about happiness and living in the moment, which is nice, refreshing.  They aren't ever so consumed with media and fear mongering and climbing to the top.  There are greedy people, but not like America.

Don't get me wrong.  Thailand is not the perfect place.  It is for some people, mainly those expats that are still earning foreign currency and can afford a nice house, a car, going out to eat, etc. But there are still issues.  For one, we are still in a coup.  The military is still in the government position and I don't forsee a fair election coming any time soon.  You can go to jail for talking bad about the King.  It is still very patriarchal.  Men are allowed to have many wives, socially, while woman are expected to stay at home and cook and clean.  There is trash everywhere!  Little pride is taken in people's homes, gardens, parks, schools.  They do pride in their cars though.  Which is strange.  There are a ton of cars here, which makes driving the motorbike extremely dangerous, especially with Asher.  And forget about it if it's raining.  Thai people drive like it's black ice when it's raining. 

Another thing Thailand is hugely lacking is my family.  My friends.  My people.  My culture.  And that is huge.  But I am still grateful, for the moment, to be living in  "paradise".

New Town, New Life, Same Same

I don't know what it is... Well, I do know.  Everything is new, but a lot is the same.  I don't know why I am surprised.  This is still Thailand, there are still ants in my house, scorpions, Thai workers smoking outside my door so the smoke fills my room, apartments that are dark and dank and neglected, lots full of trash.  There are less stares as I am now a part of the majority rather than the minority because I am white and have a white baby, but people still take Asher from me and bring him into their house without asking, steal him to pose for a photo, and threaten to give him sweets. 

Why did I move from Sangkhla?  The house?  Yes, our home was disgusting.  It got to the point where I didn't want to step foot inside the kitchen for fear of catching some unknown disease.  I stopped cooking and would only go in there to do laundry once every other day.  Here the kitchen is inside the house, like a proper kitchen, with a counter and a sink.  I've put the washing machine back there too so it feels almost European.

Did I move from the bugs?  Well, sort of, but I moved into a whole new territory of bugs.  There are insects here I've never seen.  And I have to say, while I had the occasional snake in my house in Sangkla, I never had scorpions, so it was only natural for me to burst into a full on panic attack when Amon found two giant black ones in my hallway.  Thank goodness he was still here at the time, I don't know what I would have done if he wasn't here to capture them. 

I moved to give Asher a better education.  But he is two.  Let's be real.  How much education does a two year old need?  Does he really need a 7,500 baht per month education?  Well it is clean, spotless, and they speak Thai and English, and they are all Montessori trained... He could go to nursery for free in Sangkla and still learn Karen and Thai, but with the possibility of being beaten and given candy all day...

I moved so I could be a nurse again.  But the International hospital hasn't gotten back to me after two trips there and several phone calls and emails.  The second time I went there they just looked at me and said, "why did you come back?"  Not so politely.  So I did find a job, working in a daycare, which is ironic because I had come back to Thailand with the intent on staying home with Asher and running a sort of daycare out of the house.  Well after about a week of being home with him and having fuck all to do, I threw in the towel.  I tried, I did, but staying at home isn't for me.  So now I will leave Asher at his school, so I can go take care of other people's children.

Amon and I weren't making enough money in Sangkla.  Well, I was making zero money and his money was gone after the first day of getting paid.  So that wasn't working out.  I came here to make more money, but will barely have enough to pay the bills.  If Amon were here that would be a different story.  But he's not.  I'll get to that later.

I hated that in Sangkla there was nothing to do.  NOTHING.  Go to the bridge.  Go to 7-11 or CJs.  But too hot in the day to actually go outside, so really stay inside all day until you are about to go insane and just at the breaking point the sun starts to set, the wind picks up, and you move outside.  We had no friends there, everyone knew us, but we had no one to sit and play or talk with.  Here we know some people already who also moved from Sangkla, Baan Unrak related people, and the potential to make many more friends as this is a big expat community.  There are mom clubs people.  MOM CLUBS.  There is a playground, and yeah, it is still filled with trash and quite run down, but it is a place where I can let my hyperactive toddler run his brains out without me worrying too much about him being hit by a car or stolen by a neighbor.  There is a big shopping center, and while I don't have the money to buy anything, it is still nice to go there and imagine the possibilities.  A couch!  A real couch!  Real curtains, a bed, a side table!  Stuff, all just stuff.  I can go without it, obviously, but it is still nice to sit on a couch at the end of the day.  I guess that's just the American in me. 

So, Amon.  Oh man, where to even begin?  Admittedly I did spring this on him quite suddenly.  I had just come back from America when all the sudden nothing was good enough.  I had seen how good life could be in the states and wanted to replicate that in Thailand.  The only way I could see doing that is to move out of the jungle.  I thought about this tour company we've been planning, I though of ways to stay at home and earn money, but nothing seemed feasable, and we would still be in that stinking dump of a town.  OK, that's a bit harsh, but by the end that's how I felt about it.  I would still have to stay at home with Asher because finding reliable childcare is impossible and he can't go to nursery until May.  I would still have to listen to the neighbor beat his new wife, the other neighbor wash their pig intestines, the other neighbor stumble around drunk at 8am.  I needed out.  Amon saw every day how unhappy I was.  He would come home and I would be in tears, again, because I just couldn't do it.  And then he would leave again to go see his father.

He has gotten over 20 job offers here through a friend of mine.  At different places, from tour guiding, to bartending, to boat driver.  He has the pick of the litter and he could make some really good money.  He could save money even and put it back into Sangkla, build that house finally, or send his father and sister money if he wanted.  But he chose not to come.  He did come for a week and helped us move in and get settled.  But it was so unsettling to have him leave.  I have been having panic attacks nightly in the face of doing this all alone.  Something I have always feared.  He sees Krabi as the same as Sangkla just more expensive.  I too see a lot of similarities, but if that's the case, why not move here?  And his reasoning is, why not stay there?  He can't see outside of his box because he's never been outside of his box.  He doesn't want to even try.  And that hurts like hell.  To know that he chose a town over his wife and child. 

I am afraid of what the future holds for us.  I am afraid of growing apart.  I am afraid of resentment and Asher forgetting him.  I mean, it's not like we've broken up or are getting a divorce, but it somehow feels that way.  He will come to visit at the end of the month and we will go there at Christmas, but it feels not enough.  Because it's the every day things that matter, the little helps that only a husband can give. 

In an ideal world we would all be together, in a nice town without trash, with good schools, good friends, family close by.  In an ideal world we wouldn't fight over how to parent Asher.  In an ideal world I would have a job as a nurse and Amon would have his own business.  But, it's not an ideal world.  We just have to manage day to day, minute by minute, and hope that one day it will all get better.

More Life Changes!

As you might have guessed from the previous posts, life back in Sangklaburi isn't all that exciting.  Well, it's exciting for you to read, but for Asher and I it has become mundane, dismal, and even dangerous. 

The other day I was at the little shop around the corner and the grandmother who runs it gave Asher a shot of whiskey.  Not just whiskey, but Lao Kao, the putrid fermented rice drink that men drink each night to "clean the body".  I was standing right there and had my head turned for only a second.  Asher spit most of it out, thankfully, but just the fact that someone who barely knows me, or my child, would give him poison without even asking me first?  NO.  Not OK.

And I find myself doing that on an almost daily basis.  My values are continuously being compromised, as a mother, a wife, and a woman.  As yet another puff of cigarette smoke goes wafting into my son's lungs from the numerous people who smoke around him I say to myself "it's only a little bit, it won't hurt him too bad".  But a little bit?  Is that even OK?  NO.  Not OK. 

Asher is sick now (yes, again).  He hasn't eaten in five days.  He has a fever and a sore throat.  The doctor said, after reviewing his latest set of labs, "it's just a virus".  FUCKING VIRUS.  If I hear that phrase "just a virus" one more time I might lose my shit.  He hasn't eaten in FIVE days.  No, not even one bite.  He is drinking milk, but that's it.  I want to go to the hospital, but everyone just says "give him "yaa kiow" and he will be better.  He has "ron nai" (hot inside) and he will be better on his own."  I say he won't even take water, how am I supposed to give him more medicine?  I have to force the Tylenol down as it is... But no, I am the mother, it is my job to hold his mouth open, make him gag, and force it down. 

OK, sorry for the rant.  That is just to illustrate some of the struggles I have here.  Oh I have so many more.

So, for the big news, the big change:  Asher and I are moving to Krabi in one week.  Krabi is a small-ish town in the South of Thailand.  Right on the ocean.  It is beautiful and most importantly, modern.  There are montessori schools, an international hospital, a Tesco Lotus (think Target, but better), jobs for me, and we even have some friends there.  Perfect.  I have already put a deposit on a place in Krabi Town, right across the street from the school I hope to get Asher in to.  I will be working in Ao Nang, a 20 minute drive from the Town. 

I am pretty excited about it all.  Pretty scared, because of course, this move is going to happen alone.  Amon will not be joining us.  It is our hope that he will join eventually, but right now he has decided to stay in Sangkhla.  I am not all that thrilled with being a single mom again, nor am I thrilled to be doing so in Thailand, but se la vie.  We will wait until Amon gets his visa to come to America and then most likely make another move, depending on how well it goes down south.  We do hope to see each other as much as possible, but it is a 14 hour drive by car (which we don't have) a two day bus ride, or a plane ride followed by an 8 hour bus ride.  But, we will do our best.

So that's it.  The new life change.  The big decision.  Man, I am getting sick of these. 

A Cross Cultural Sick Day

So, Asher is sick.  I could say "yet again" or "of course he is", but I've come to the realization that kids get sick.  It's just in their nature, it doesn't have to do with where we are, most of the time, but just the laws of evolution (though I blame our friend's kid for passing this lovely virus on).

He's got some sort of cough/fever combination that's making him wheeze and sound like a hundred year smoker, not unlike he had in America for 6 weeks.  So, I know what that looks like there: trips to doctor's office just to hear them say "it's just a virus, give him Tylenol when he has a fever, come back in a week if he still has it".  Staying home from school, finding a babysitter (Thanks Dad!), staying up all night listening to the cough, worrying endlessly.  Some things are the same here, but let me just give you a run down of how it generally goes when my kid gets sick in Sangkhlaburi:

Day one:  Asher has a runny nose and slight cough.  Quick!  Long sleeves and pants, socks and shoes, and a hat!  Don't go in the rain, don't go out on the motorbike.   You cannot use the fan or he will get pneumonia.  Don't give him a bath in the evening, it's too cold.  (It's 80 degrees).

Night one:  Asher has a fever now.  Yaa Para STAT (Tylenol).  Chedt Tua (wipe the body down with cool towel).  Bring in to bed with mom and dad.  Mom and dad both get woken up every time Asher coughs or stirs.  Nobody sleeps.  Asher is wheezing badly, his stomach muscles are tight from the coughing.   Amon freaks out, something is wrong with his stomach!  Nurse Ani explains the muscle situation.  Amon doesn't believe her, says we need to go buy Ma Ha Hing and put it on NOW (it's 2am, nothing is open).  Ani tells Amon, shhhh, go to sleep.  Ani puts on Vicks.  Asher sleeps for 10 minutes, stirs, the process is repeated.  Until 7am when it is decided we should go to the hospital.  Dengue fever has been going around and Asher may have it.

Day Two:  We don't have a car.  The hospital is a 20 minute drive from us.  We can't take the motorbike, it's too cold (ok, maybe it's like 70 degrees out).  So we wait for Amon's company car to come and pick us up and we go to Huay Malai, where, thankfully, Amon is working that day and it is where the hospital is located.  (Note: there is a hospital in town, a two minute drive from our house.  However, it is a government hospital, and I would not set foot in there if my life depended on it, ESPECIALLY if the life of my child depended on it.)   So Amon drops Asher and I off at the hospital and he goes to work.  We check in, they give us a slip of paper and then it's off to the little desk where they draw the blood.  Yes, a blood draw.  How many times has your 2 year old had his/her blood taken?  Mine has had his done at least 10 times in his little life.  They "have" to check the blood for anyone who comes in with a fever to check for malaria.  They also do a CBC to check the platelets.  If the platelets are low it could mean Dengue fever.  Then we sit and wait, and wait, and wait.  Until finally the morning prayer is over (it's a Christian hospital) and the doctors have returned from rounds.  We are assigned a number.  Luckily we aren't too bad off: number 19.  The doctor churns through patients quickly, averaging a 5 minute turn around.  It's our turn.  It's like we've won the lottery.  We rush inside.  The doctor looks at Asher's throat, checks out the blood work, feels his tummy and listens to his lungs before declaring, yep, you guessed it, it's a virus.  It's going around you know, the weather is changing. 

Before I get to ask any questions of the doctor, I am ushered out, back to waiting.  Another 30 minutes go by and our lucky number has come up again, to pay and to collect the medicine.  380 baht (about $11) and a bag full of Tylenol, cough syrup, and antihistamine later, we get to go.  I call Amon to come get us.  While waiting we sit outside where 20 or so people sit and stare at us.  They point and smile and say "Farang!"  That means foreigner.  Yes, my son and I are, endlessly, the odd man out.

Later on in the day we make it back home and Asher passes out.  He sleeps all day, doesn't eat, the usual sick kid syndrome.  In the evening the neighbor tells us to give him honey with lemon water for the cough.  The best advice I have heard in all my years in Thailand made by a Thai person.  Usually people are all about antibiotics and anything with chemicals.  So something natural, as suggested by an elderly Thai person, is right up my alley (and, in fact, something I have suggested multiple times to Amon, but he didn't listen until someone else said it, typical husband thing).   Of course Asher didn't drink it, he's only taking milk at this point.

Night Two:  Is it really only night two?  This feels like it has been going on FOREVER.   But, I am prepared tonight.  I have my arsenal of Tylenol and Ibuprofen at the ready.  I give Asher some cough medicine, which is just Benedryl and menthol and sugar, and put him to bed.  With me of course.  He could stop breathing if he were in his crib alone.  The night goes well, I medicate him every four hours to keep the fever at bay, and he sleeps.  We both sleep.  We all sleep! 

Day Three: Wake up, slightly refreshed, Asher is in a better mood but still not eating.  Oh well, he wasn't eating even before he got sick, so I'm not going to take it personally.  Amon goes to work, we stay at home.  I am not supposed to go anywhere as we only have the motorbike and Asher is still too sick to go out, but I wait until Amon is out of the town and I get Asher dressed and we go to pay the rent and the electricity bill.  But, then, CAUGHT.  Amon hasn't left yet!  He makes us pull over, scolds me for not putting a long sleeve shirt on Asher, I tell him off, it is almost 90 degrees out in the sun, and we go on our way. 

So, there you have it.  It is so much harder to deal with a sick baby here, but I am glad that at least I can stay home with him. 

A cross cultural sick day

So, Asher is sick.  I could say "yet again" or "of course he is", but I've come to the realization that kids get sick.  It's just in their nature, it doesn't have to do with where we are, most of the time, but just the laws of evolution (though I blame our friend's kid for passing this lovely virus on).

He's got some sort of cough/fever combination that's making him wheeze and sound like a hundred year smoker, not unlike he had in America for 6 weeks.  So, I know what that looks like there: trips to doctor's office just to hear them say "it's just a virus, give him Tylenol when he has a fever, come back in a week if he still has it".  Staying home from school, finding a babysitter (Thanks Dad!), staying up all night listening to the cough, worrying endlessly.  Some things are the same here, but let me just give you a run down of how it generally goes when a kid gets sick in Sangkhlaburi:

Day one:  Asher has a runny nose and slight cough.  Quick!  Long sleeves and pants, socks and shoes, and a hat!  Don't go in the rain, don't go out on the motorbike.   You cannot use the fan or he will get pneumonia.  Don't give him a bath in the evening, it's too cold.  (It's 80 degrees).

Night one:  Asher has a fever now.  Yaa Para STAT (Tylenol).  Chedt Tua (wipe the body down with cool towel).  Bring in to bed with mom and dad.  Mom and dad both get woken up every time Asher coughs or stirs.  Nobody sleeps.  Asher is wheezing badly, his stomach muscles are tight from the coughing.   Amon freaks out, something is wrong with his stomach!  Nurse Ani explains the muscle situation.  Amon doesn't believe her, says we need to go buy Ma Ha Hing and put it on NOW (it's 2am, nothing is open).  Ani tells Amon, shhhh, go to sleep.  Ani puts on Vicks.  Asher sleeps for 10 minutes, stirs, the process is repeated.  Until 7am when it is decided we should go to the hospital.  Dengue fever has been going around and Asher may have it.

Day Two:  We don't have a car.  The hospital is a 20 minute drive from us.  We can't take the motorbike, it's too cold (ok, maybe it's like 70 degrees out).  So we wait for Amon's company car to come and pick us up and we go to Huay Malai, where, thankfully, Amon is working that day and it is where the hospital is located.  (Note: there is a hospital in town, a two minute drive from our house.  However, it is a government hospital, and I would not set foot in there if my life depended on it, ESPECIALLY if the life of my child depended on it.)   So Amon drops Asher and I off at the hospital and he goes to work.  We check in, they give us a slip of paper and then it's off to the little desk where they draw the blood.  Yes, a blood draw.  How many times has your 2 year old had his/her blood taken?  Mine has had his done at least 10 times in his little life.  They "have" to check the blood for anyone who comes in with a fever to check for malaria.  They also do a CBC to check the platelets.  If the platelets are low it could mean Dengue fever.  Then we sit and wait, and wait, and wait.  Until finally the morning prayer is over (it's a Christian hospital) and the doctors have returned from rounds.  We are assigned a number.  Luckily we aren't too bad off: number 19.  The doctor churns through patients quickly, averaging a 5 minute turn around.  It's our turn.  It's like we've won the lottery.  We rush inside.  The doctor looks at Asher's throat, checks out the blood work, feels his tummy and listens to his lungs before declaring, yep, you guessed it, it's a virus.  It's going around you know, the weather is changing.

Before I get to ask any questions of the doctor, I am ushered out, back to waiting.  Another 30 minutes go by and our lucky number has come up again, to pay and to collect the medicine.  380 baht (about $11) and a bag full of Tylenol, cough syrup, and antihistamine later, we get to go.  I call Amon to come get us.  While waiting we sit outside where 20 or so people sit and stare at us.  They point and smile and say "Farang!"  That means foreigner.  Yes, my son and I are, endlessly, the odd man out.

Later on in the day we make it back home and Asher passes out.  He sleeps all day, doesn't eat, the usual sick kid syndrome.  In the evening the neighbor tells us to give him honey with lemon water for the cough.  The best advice I have heard in all my years in Thailand made by a Thai person.  Usually people are all about antibiotics and anything with chemicals.  So something natural, as suggested by an elderly Thai person, is right up my alley (and, in fact, something I have suggested multiple times to Amon, but he didn't listen until someone else said it, typical husband thing).   Of course Asher didn't drink it, he's only taking milk at this point.

Night Two:  Is it really only night two?  This feels like it has been going on FOREVER.   But, I am prepared tonight.  I have my arsenal of Tylenol and Ibuprofen at the ready.  I give Asher some cough medicine, which is just Benedryl and menthol and sugar, and put him to bed.  With me of course.  He could stop breathing if he were in his crib alone.  The night goes well, I medicate him every four hours to keep the fever at bay, and he sleeps.  We both sleep.  We all sleep!

Day Three: Wake up, slightly refreshed, Asher is in a better mood but still not eating.  Oh well, he wasn't eating even before he got sick, so I'm not going to take it personally.  Amon goes to work, we stay at home.  I am not supposed to go anywhere as we only have the motorbike and Asher is still too sick to go out, but I wait until Amon is out of the town and I get Asher dressed and we go to pay the rent and the electricity bill.  But, then, CAUGHT.  Amon hasn't left yet!  He makes us pull over, scolds me for not putting a long sleeve shirt on Asher, I tell him off, it is almost 90 degrees out in the sun, and we go on our way.

So, there you have it. It seems a lot harder to have a sick child here than it does in the states, but I am glad that at least I can stay home with him to handle it. 

Jungle Pizza

So, I made a pizza yesterday.  From scratch.  I don't know, maybe I just needed a challenge.  So I thought I'd share with you a little tutorial, How to Make a Pizza (from scratch) in the Jungle.

First off you have to make the tomato sauce.  So you dice tomatoes, onions, garlic then sauce them.  That took about 20 minutes.  I added dried basil, oregano (both of which were smuggled in from the States), salt and a teenie bit of sugar.  It came out pretty decent.

Next step is making the dough.  I guess I could have done this first and let it rise while making the sauce, but whatevs.  Next time I know.  So I took some yeast, and some water and mixed it together, then mixed that with flour and a bit of salt.  Yeah, dough.  I'm sure you know how to make dough.  It was dough-y.  The only problem was that the yeast I used had been sitting on our shelf for the entirety I was away, and probably a good couple months before that too.  So I think it lost its potency or something because this is what the dough looked like even after sitting for, like, 45 minutes:

Step three is to check on the toddler.  I had planned on doing this while he was sleeping, but he decided not to nap.  So he was left to his own devices:

Ask not why there is a spoon in the bathroom, be impressed that the kid played by himself, mostly, while you were busy.

Step Four:  While the dough is "rising", cut/grate the cheese.  I had planned on grating, but when I went to look at my 50 cent grater I realized it was a little rusty and also swarmed with ants?  So yeah, step four for me was to cut up the cheese into small cubes resembling grated cheese.

Step Five: Roll out the dough.  Of course I don't have a rolling pin.  Those are difficult to smuggle in, and quite heavy.  So I used the next best thing: a roll of saran wrap.  That worked pretty well, saran wrap isn't sticky, especially when foured. 

Step Six: Place rolled out dough "circle" onto pan.  Yeah, I can't roll out a circle.  But fuck it, it tastes the same no matter what shape, right?

Step Seven: Put the sauce on the dough.

Step Eight: Plug in the oven.  Yeah, I don't have a proper oven either.  But I do have this amazing toaster oven that works just fine. 

Step one-hundred: Put the cheese on the pizza.  Here you can add any other variety of things, but seeing as I would have to go a butcher a pig and figure out how to make bacon or pepperoni, from scratch, I decided this pizza would be just cheese. 

Step one million: Go check on the kid again.  Make sure he isn't trying to rearrange the fridge. 

Step one million and eleven: Put the pizza in the oven and hope the dough at least rises there.

Step 112,000,000:  Take out the pizza.  Look at it, taste it.  It tastes OK.  But then realize that your husband, who is actually from the jungle, makes much better pizza that this whitey does or could do!