Song, Song of the South

Well, friends, I'm finally back after doing some field research on the East Coast. I'm starting to once again get adjusted to long sleeves, foggy days, and a nearer to 0% blood alcohol level. I have so much to share from my time back home, but since I currently have a song craving for it, I will start here:

Discovered this little gem on the drive back down from the small mountain town of Lake Lure, NC. Radio stations are scarce (as is forward-thinking, it appears) and are pretty much limited to the Bible Beat or Country. If nothing else, country music almost always promises a good story. Think of it as a redneck book on tape, if you will. In "The Boys 'Round Here," Blake Shelton hits on the Good Ol' Boy trifecta. He mentions (1) the man upstairs (2) 4-wheel drive (3) beer while achieving bonus points for the addition of chewing tubacca' and dirt...and let's not leave out the girls. According to Blake, they "all deserve a whistle" for "shakin' that sugar, sweet as Dixie Crystal." Apparently chivalry is not dead. whew. 

Backwoods legit

Do Not Talk to Strangers

Growing up Southern, there is a certain code of manners that is pretty much instilled from birth (I promise this is not another diatribe on my mother's mandate for "etiquette classes" at the age of 8. Though I did just recall licking my butter knife at the graduation luncheon at the Omni hotel. My teacher, complete with perfectly coiffed bun, pursed lips, and breathy Charlestonian dialect, shunned me by saying, " Miss Cah-ro-line, we dohhn't lick our silva-wahaya." Perhaps in my own subconscious way, it was my version of a protest.)  We learn to say "yes ma'am" and "no sir" about the time we utter our first words. It becomes automatic and of second-nature. I remember around the age of 10, new neighbors from New York moved in. Being the polite little Southern girl I was raised to be, I'd dutifully answer Mrs. Diane with a "yes ma'am" or "no ma'am." She recoiled with a laugh, "ugh...please don't call me 'mam!'  It makes me feel like an old woman!" Ut oh. This was going to be a problem. Try undoing 10 years of programming. Not easy.

Another line item on the Southerner's Code of Conduct is to offer a friendly hello or at bare minimum flash a kind smile as you make eye-contact with passersby. It's just how we do. Nothing makes a person stand out as a foreigner more than to inadvertently snub a Southerner exhibiting this innate behavior. Unaware that this Code does not necessarily follow one across the Mason-Dixon line, I found myself quickly becoming the "odd girl" when I'd take Ollie for a walk around the block. I slipped into my usual routine of smiling or saying hello when we passed someone. I did not always receive the same reaction back (and noted to self that reaction varied depending on if recipient was of the male vs. female variety). Telling Lewis about this, he warned me that exhibiting this behavior here meant something ENTIRELY different than it means in the motherland. Lone blonde preppy girl + smile + hello = signal that you'd like to be asked out for a artisanal draft beer at the latest hipster bar.  Not at all my intention. Armed with this information on my new culture, I vowed to be stoic and practice my new "citified persona." It was HARD. For the first few weeks, I felt so rude! It went against everything in my nature, but after a month or so of practice, I'm happy to report, that I was able to successfully walk past someone without the need to react. (perhaps this should be considered my second graduation from etiquette school - West Coast edition.) Success.

This behavior has become the new normal for me - so much so, that I'd almost forgotten that it was ever a struggle...until a few weeks ago when my mother came for a visit. Being the original Southern Belle whom I credit for many of my social graces, my mother was the new stranger in a strange land. She said hello to everybody. Not so much an issue when Lewis was with us, but when we took off on our little road trip to wine country, we definitely dealt with some fallout.  Picture the below scene:

See that vacant table adjacent to us? Now picture a 50-something single man approaching. Primal Southern Belle instinct - smile from my mother + friendly hello. DUNNN DUNNN DUHHHHNNNNN. ALERT! WRONG SIGNAL FIRED! We spent the next 30 minutes trying to send opposite signal: Please let us enjoy ourselves sans your banter about sea otters. At least our suddenly cool demeanor lessened his interest to intermittent at best. Channeling my husband's words of wisdom, mom and I had a little chat about how she can't say hello to everybody.  Unfortunately, she couldn't help herself and the very next night inadvertently beckoned a very drunk man in a suit. He quickly offered to buy us drinks at the bar while simultaneously talking about how much he misses his wife when he is away on these business trips. He proceeded to come back by our patio table each trip he went to smoke, each time getting more and more brazen. Sorry sir, but one of these things is not like the other. Shoo fly, don't bother us...and how 'bout go call that wife you profess such love for? And dear, sweet mama, please zip those Southern lips, bless your heart!

Crimes of a Cat Lady

In an attempt to combat the onslaught of cat hair in our house and on our clothes, we made an appointment to get Gracie shaved. When I lived back in SC, I used to do this every summer to help her stay cool and to prevent her from shedding her winter coat all over my furniture. Since moving to San Francisco, I felt I didn't need to do this since the temperatures are pretty consistently cool. Gracie did not feel she should return the favor and has continued the yearly tradition of shedding her coat. Please allow me to quantify this for you...this is not a gradual process. We're talking clumps of hair left Hansel-and-Gretl style throughout our house. Try to give some kitten affection and you're left holding an unwanted dander bomb.  We were going through lint rollers faster than a roll of toilet paper. It was gross. Now add to this Oliver's need for year-round molting and the poor Oreck (or my nervous system) didn't stand a chance. Something had to be done. We had to shave the cat. After researching places that will "accept" cats to their grooming service, we wait the  - yes - THREE WEEKS  - for the appointment date. Seventy-five dollars and several kilos of hair later, this is what we got:

 I have to admit that it took us a full day and a half not to laugh every time this rodent-esque creature slinked in to the room.  Even the poor cat seemed embarrassed and would retreat under the bed every chance she got. But...wow whatta' difference. It was so nice to be able to enjoy our pet once again.  I was not prepared for the side effect of guilt that would come with this decision. The poor cat was cold. My moment of shame caused me to drive directly to PetSmart for a kitty sweater. I was about to be schooled on all things Vestment du' Pet. Did you know that there are "designers" that fashion Pet Wear? Nope, me either. Martha Stewart, Disney, and Bret Michaels to name a few. Also, it follows the two main fashion season - Spring and Fall.  Seriously?  As you can imagine, there were slim pickin's this time of year.  Most of what was there would require duct tape and a straight jacket to keep on the poor, tortured animal. Not gonna happen. I head to the clearance section in hopes of something promising among the dregs. I concede to the red Minnie Mouse "sweatshirt" dangling sadly from its plastic hanger. Once home, I wrangle the cat into her second skin and marvel at the cuteness staring back at me.  My guilt has been appeased...for now.

Function over fashion...or perhaps a little of both.

Martha Stewart's Spring Line -  I'm not so sure it's a "good thing."

Brain Blockade

So it's been a shameful two months since I've last posted. It seems I've been afflicted with the sometimes long-term malady known as duh duh duhnnnnn....writer's block. I've had every intention of sharing my adventures in Thailand, but each time I set my mind to do it...nothin'. I guess it's a bit overwhelming trying to compile so many experiences into one entry. My English 101 professor once told me, "The cure for writer's block is  - just write. Don't worry about if it's terrible, just write." Seems rather obvious, but let's give it a try...

This time around, I knew a little more of what to expect. Unlike my little brother who gets his jollies from jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, diving with unpredictable sea life, and scaling sheer rock faces, I do not thrive on challenging situations. Much to the dismay of my hippie-at-heart husband, I like to plan.  For EV-ER-Ything. So this time, I found myself much more at ease.  It did not surprise me when the "toilet" was a bucket in the ground or when the power and "fan of mercy" ceased at 11pm. Cold showers - got it...I knew exactly what to expect. What I did not expect was to fall even more deeply in love with Thailand.

Here's a snippet from my journal entry when we first arrived:

December 14-16 Bangkok - New Siam Riverside

Almost missed connection in Taipei due to late departure from SFO.  Cute Thai student studying "drawing" in San Francisco told us there were no spots left on the next morning's flight so we might be in for a major headache.  Fortunately, they held the plane for us and we made it aboard.  Unfortunately, we weren't able to be seated in the "extra leg room" seats that we'd arranged to be in [this was following our 14 hour leg from SFO-Taipei, now entering another 4.5 hours to Bangkok]. Our hearts and my knees were sad.

Our heads touched the pillows at New Siam around 4 a.m.  We had been sleeping on and off on the plane so we awoke around 8am congratulating ourselves that we were now on Thai time.  Nice buffet breakfast on the river.  Runny eggs=bonus.  Took off for a little shopping on Khao San Road.  Bought unfriendly flip-flops that gnawed away at my toes (was cursing myself for ignoring cardinal rule of traveling - make sure, if nothing else, you have comfortable shoes.  The song, "Stupid Girl" by Garbage played in my brain. Early dinner then off to bed.  

I woke up with the numbers 2:48 staring at me. Ugh. It's such a helpless feeling when the Sand Man is not your friend.  I laid there for another hour then finally conceded. I grabbed the iPad and made myself a fort under the sheets to shield Lew from the light coming off the screen.  Thankfully Lew woke up early and we went to breakfast. Had an easy day since we had big plans to meet with Jamie and Sa that evening.  When Lew asked the desk clerk how long it would take to get to the restaurant, she told him, "with traffic, about an hour."  In a B-list romantic comedy, this little detail would serve to foreshadow the rest of the evening.

Hailed a cab outside.  The cab driver negotiated 200 Baht and we piled in. Traveled about 40 feet before the road became a parking lot. Roughly 45 minutes later, the cab pulls over and asks to see the address again.  Not a good sign.  We call Sa and have her talk to driver in Thai.  10 minute exchange = bad news.  There wasn't a consensus on where in Bangkok we were. I'd just spotted a hotel with "Millenium" (our intended destination) on it.  We decided to bail out of the cab (turns out we'd been "bangkok-ed" as the fare should have been around 80 Baht). Lew tossed 100 Baht at the driver and we fled.  It was the most like Bonnie and Clyde I've ever felt.  I kept looking over my shoulder expecting to find an irate Thai man chasing after us.  We turned the corner optimistic that we were close.  Turns out it was the wrong Millineum hotel. Curse word!  At this point I am at risk of total toe amputation from walking too much in cheap flip-flops.  Stuuuuupid girrrrrrrurrrrrllllll.  We are beyond frustrated and starving so we commit to going to the very next promising restaurant we see. The Rib Room.  Ahhhh.  Enter fancy hotel.  Press button for "Rib Room." Ascend to very top floor.  Continue to ignore blatant signs and warning bells that we are headed to a significantly fancy resutrant.  Get seated. Open menu (guilded with gold pages) and narrowly avert heart failures at sight of prices. Steak - $100. Heart palpation.  At this point, Lew remembers he didn't bring the AMEX and retreats to the bathroom to count our money to avoid embarrassing incident when check arrives.  3,500 Baht. This should have been enough for several DAYS worth of meals, but here it bought us each an appetizer and one drink.  Our waiter happened to be from California and took pity on us sending out fun sherbert dessert for us to try.  He also told us we were still about 45 minutes from our intended destination. ughhhhhh.  Mustered energy and hailed a cab (of course Paranoid Patty was convinced that we'd run in to cabbie we had "stiffed" and insisted on doing a visual scan of the inside of the cab before agreeing to get in.)  Although we were exhausted, we had a fabulous time with Grant, Kate, Jamie and Sa and were so glad we pushed ourselves to continue on. I will say though, that this "bangkok-ed" pair can't wait to be on Koh Phayam.

Being back in the States, jet lag hit my like a smack in the face. I had such a hard time getting back to reality. I found myself oddly down for the first few weeks. I missed Thailand or more specifically the little island of Phayam. The outlook there is one of gratitude and appreciation. They aim to never be wasteful. They use everything they have for as many uses as they can. While we strive for those things here, it seems like the overall agenda is to make you feel as though you are lacking. You must buy things. You need that new car; those jeans you are wearing are SO last season.  There is so much excess, but it's easy to feel like we never have enough. Outwardly, Koh Phayam may look meager and simple with its lean-to restaurants and bare-footed citizens, but to me, it is Utopia. In my eyes, they are the ones that have it all figured out.

The end justifies the means...finally celebrating with our friends in Bangkok

My Utopia

Return to Paradise

Getting ready for our upcoming trip, I pulled out my journal from the last time we visited Thailand.  Being that my OCD is out in full force while traveling (and the weeks leading up to it.  my poor husband), I kept a list in the back of all the things that I should and should not bring back next time and wanted to reference it.  I started to re-read through the pages and came across this entry that summarizes so many of the reasons that Thailand truly is paradise.

Saturday, February 18, 2011  Bamboo Bungalows

I just had one of the most delightful experiences of my life.  My neck has still not been completely right since my nights with the killer pillow at Payam Cottage so I wanted to make an appointment for a message.  I was really hoping that Lew and I could do one together, but there was only one lady working today.  I was a little apprehensive about navigating the language barrier all by myself, but figured there probably wouldn't be much conversing involved.  I arrived while she was finishing with another young blonde.  She tried to talk to me about "my husband (he was the one who made the appointment)"  and "time" and something else that I just wasn't understanding.  Fortunately the blonde looked at me and asked, "German or English?" signalling that she was about to translate for me.  I was so grateful. Afterwards I asked her if she spoke Thai and she chuckled and said no, but she'd just spent the last hour communicating.  Oh, I thought, how cute!  She'd used this time to practice her Thai!  Convinced that the awkward part would soon be over, I plopped my farang [Thai word for "foreigner"] feet into the foot bath and awaited bliss.

After a brief discussion over Thai vs. Oil massage, the massage lady started talking in broken segments about "oil," "skin," "Thai massage," "no good."  I was so confused and a little uncomfortable.  She kept apologizing that her "English no good," and although I was sure she wouldn't understand, I told her that I was in her country - I should be speaking Thai.  It is I that feels badly."  We continued to bump along through broken bits of conversation and I have to admit I was at first a little bit upset that so much chatter had permeated my relaxation.  She asked me if I liked my holiday so far.  I answered that I loved Thailand and the Thai people very much.  "They are so happy and smile a lot.  So nice," I said.  She answered with a wai and "Kap koon Ka" [Thank you] and proceeded to say something that will stick with me, I hope, forever.  "The Thai people, they work, work, work, not have a lot of money, but happy."  So true.  What a lesson.  She went on to ask me questions and tell me about her son at university.  She also told me how beautiful farang are when they first come here (because they are pale) then points to her skin and says "mai di [bad]" signaling the transformation to dark tan is ugly.  There were times I didn't understand her and she didn't understand me and that was ok.  As the hour progressed, the massage became secondary to me; getting a glimpse into this amazing woman's life and wisdom was the bigger treat.  She kept thanking me for the English lesson (and even gave me an extra face massage for talking to her) but it was she that had taught me so much.  We are all just people.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  Happiness is yours for the taking.  Challenges whether cultural, language-based or otherwise are always worthwhile.  Oh, and I really love Thailand. 

FOLLOW-UP ENTRY A FEW DAYS LATER:

I feel at peace about making this place an integral part of our future.  This experience has also taught me how much one "needs" and how much is truly "enough."  I've actually come to tolerate my cold showers and am on the brink of finding them positively invigorating.  Thai napkins are a tease and although very grateful to have it, their version of toilet paper is not far behind.  I'm also learning that a little bit of dirt is ok.  Sharing the same spoon with others is a form of fellowship.  Every cube of ice and drop of clean water is precious and should never be wasted. ALWAYS apply bug spray before sunset. Never wear your sunglasses in the ocean even when it is extremely calm.  It will always show you who is boss and does not return things it takes (including your  most favorite pair of faux Ray-Bans). It is possible to live without power after 11pm - you do not spontaneously combust contrary to my initial belief.  While the people here are very soft-spoken, the wildlife is not.  Choir practice for Geckos is usually in full swing around 1:38 a.m.

My Cup (and my plate) Runneth Over

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.  That may be true, it very much applies to this she-man as well. When preparing for our trip home for the holidays, I found myself daydreaming about the things I was going to eat and, of course, the people I will share it with.  Many family members asked for "requests" (so sweet!).  Some, already primed from years past, just threw it out there - it went something like this:

"Hi Uncle Milan, Lewis and I are coming in town and want to make sure we see you while we're home."

"Great!  Come Tuesday around 5.  Let me know if you want smoked shrimp dip."

He Read. My. Mind.

When I worked in radio, most of the artists had what they call a "rider" where they would send their requests...ahem...demands to the radio station ahead of time.  These were to be filled prior to their arrival to the studio or concert location.  One of my favorites was a Britney Spears request that "no plastic cutlery of any kind is permitted in the dressing room."  I wonder if she'd shudder to know that the silverware we provided came out of the $0.50 bin at the nearby thrift store. I ended up inheriting the "Britney Spears flatware" after that.  In fact, I think it is still floating around here somewhere. Perhaps her diva-ness was contagious and I caught it as a result of using said silverware. Anyways, I digress...it started to occur to me just how much I associate meals with people.  When in "Germantown", I always request Kristin's cucumber and tomato salad with that magic marinade that she blesses it with, Bville - Mama Susan's Chicken and Dumplins,' Dad and Ann - grilled steaks (or smoked lamb chops if I'm feeling like a total P.I.T.A) with Ann's ratatouille or tabouleh depending on the meal, and my sweet, self-aware-that-she-is-culinarliy-challenged mama - a trip to Bacco (love ya Mo!).  I know I'm a sentimental sap.  I guess I really shouldn't be surprised that it generalizes to food. What a lucky glutton I am that my family makes all my culinary dreams come true!  I'm feeling so blessed to have these loving people as my family and so lucky to have shared these traditions of breaking bread with them. Can't wait to see ya'll soon!

At least I'm not this bad, right?

Gratitude and Edification

In 4th-grade, I had this spunky first-year teacher named Mrs. Waldrop.  She was young, full of energy and eager to put into play all of the creative ideas she'd had while preparing to become a teacher.  There was the balloon dart throwing game where you'd pop a balloon and have to write a sentence with the spelling word that fell out (which seems a bit dangerous now that I think about it - I mean really, how adept could a 4th-grader possibly be at wielding an object considered a state-of-the-art weaponry in Medieval times?), her very own version of The Price is Right that I'm sure instilled some math component, and the daily "Gratitude and Edification" segment. After the morning announcements and Pledge of Allegiance, students who chose to do so could raise their hand and share something they were thankful for or a way they had improved themselves.  Often answers involved bragging about winning a softball game or getting new Nike sneakers under the guise of being "thankful" for them - after all it was 4th grade and still very much in the "I am the center of the universe" phase of one's childhood.  However, it was a great vocabulary lesson - what 4th-grader (or 30 year-old for that matter) knows the definition of "edification?"  Edification: /ˌedəfiˈkāSHən/. n. Intellectual, moral, or spiritual improvement; enlightenment.  Well done, Mrs. Waldrop and all before the days of Pinterest.  How did you do it?

So being that it's the time of year to reflect on what you are thankful for, here's a little "Gratitude and Edification" session  - adult Caroline version, and only a sample of a much larger list, in no particular order:

1.  I am thankful for my sweet furries - there is no better expression of unconditional love than that of a pet.  I saw a quote once that said, "a dog is the only thing that loves you more than he loves himself..." which brings me to #2 on the list:

2.  I am thankful for my Oreck vacuum.  Without it, we would certainly be overtaken by the pet-hair tumbleweeds that accumulate in our house daily. 

3.  I am thankful for real mail.  Nothing makes my day like seeing a letter or card from friends and family.

4.  I am thankful that my daddy taught me how to properly use a knife - an important skill for someone who finds herself in the kitchen as often as I do.  Never expose your fingers. (if only I had generalized this rule of thumb (ha!) when using The German's fancy Pampered Chef mandoline tool.  That was an unfortunate little mishap.  Thank goodness for the Colonial and his Army first aid kit)

5.  I am thankful that every time I turn on my shower or sink faucet, clean water comes directly to me.  I can't believe how much I took this for granted in years past.  Traveling to other parts of the world made me realize how much of a gift this really is.

6. I am thankful that there are people in this world with the fortitude and gumption to fight for the underdogs.  They are a source of inspiration and are selfless in their efforts to make our world a better place.

7.  I am thankful for Pumpkin Spice creamer.  Now that I can purchase an entire vat of Autumn in a bottle, I am no longer a slave to Starbucks and their cranky baristas. 

8.  As shameful as it might be to say so - I am thankful for Facebook.  It is like a portal to home and the friends and family that I miss so much.

9.  I am thankful for my new Time Card Pro app.  Before I discovered this little gem, I had to calculate monthly work hours by hand (causing smoke to spew from my ears as a result of over-loaded, non-math oriented brain).  Changed my life. 

10. I am thankful that I succeeded in "edifying" myself by passing my Board Exam.  Whew.  What a relief.  I worried poor hubsy to death when I called him crying last week.  It took a few excruciating seconds for me to squeak out the words, "I passed."  That wonderful man rushed home, opened a bottle of "the good wine," and took me out for a celebratory dinner.  Husband of the year. 

...and I'm extremely thankful that spiders can't fly.