In a strange place

Two days before my flight leaves for home, I find myself in a strange place mentally. My brain is discombobulated. I have been exceptionally weepy--weepy like the fourth grader I was in Mrs. Richardson's class, back when a sarcastic remark or unkind look sent me into hysterics. I spent the better part of this morning crying at the immigration office. A man in a very large blue turban would not stop looking at me as I was sobbing wrecklessly, irrationally. Last night at a bar I hugged a friend goodbye, a teacher who will not be back next year, and I started to cry. And once I started, I couldn't stop. I had to abandon my mango daquiri and go home because this human faucet was stuck on full blast. (I think it was the violent, chest-heaving sobs coupled with the hickups that caused me to vomit out the taxi window on the ride home and not the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed.)

Normally, I can keep my head together. It's only on the precipice of big changes that I fall apart. The summer before I started teaching I had a spell. The October after Michael went back to Indiana I was in a similar place. Last July before I left for Thailand I lost it temporarily.

I recognize this as fear. The paralyzing fear of being in a new situation and not knowing the outcome. Will I be able to do it, will I do it with grace, and will I be successful?

Koh Samet

About thirty teachers travelled to Koh Samet for the end of the year beach trip. I took it really easy and indulged in several pineapple shakes and a foot massage on the beach. I think I could live on an island for a summer. Anyone want to join me?

Salsa...hot hot hot!

Gina, the birthday girl, dancing with the very talented Carlos.
Revonna and me after a few cocktails and a spin or two on the dance floor.
Jen Davies and another salsa dancer.

Birthdays are such a great excuse to get a little crazy. Gina, the southern belle among us, celebrated her 29th (again?) a couple weeks ago and we went salsa dancing at Fogo Vivo's. I don't know how I have made it this far in life and never been salsa dancing. I imagine a big part of it might have to do with the fact that I grew up in "little Poland" instead of "little Havana." And I'm sorry, I never really got into doing the polka. Of course that's probably because I was dancing with seventy year old Vic Karzmoski and not a twenty something Antonio Garcia.

Five of us arrived early for lessons before the serious salsa dancers took over the dance floor. Even though the place was empty when we arrived, Gina and Sunny were reluctant to dance-- even in slow-mo. They both claimed to have two left feet. Fortunately Carlos, the instructor, was quite convinicing and he had all five of us out there doing the salsa in no time. It is unbelievable what a difference a strong lead can make. I have taken dance lessons before but my partner was not a very strong lead. Carlos was amazing.

After a few more drinks and the passing of a little time, the dance floor was packed. Five more of the teachers I work with showed up so we had quite a party going. I was a bit worried that we would just be wallflowers but we were all asked to dance at different points though the night. And we danced with each other. Jen Davies and Courtney have both had lessons before and you could tell by the easy, confident way they moved. And Brisa, a Columbia co-worker, could have made the pope convert with the way she was moving. Dios Mio!

This is going to sound horrible, but I didn't know Asians could dance. I was proved wrong. I met up with Ignatius, a Catholic Singaporean in town on IT business, who is a fabulous dancer. He even had special salsa shoes. We danced to a few songs and not just salsa either. I have never had a merengue lesson, but he was leading so well, I found myself doing the merengue. I was twirling and praying to god that he would not try to do one of those dip numbers because I didn't know if my back would be able to take it.

I will definitely be at the salsa club again but I might have to watch Dirty Dancing first.

Bangkok Sky

I thought we had some serious thunderstorms in Virginia but that was nothing compared to some of the storms we have been experiencing here in Bangkok. I know I am 32 years old but I nearly jumped to the other side of the bed and hung on to Revonna for dear life one night while she was here and we had a particularly violent storm. After the raucous thunder woke me up and then the near constant flash of the lightning kept me awake, I had to remind myself that the lightling would not come through the window, that there were no trees near my building that would come crashing through the glass. Scary stuff. The picture of the lightning was taken by one of the teachers at school from his balcony.

Equally impressive in a quieter way are the sunsets. One night we went to dinner with some of my colleagues to celebrate two birthdays. We ate dinner at the top of the tallest building in Bangkok, Baiyoke Tower II (about 250 feet shorter than the Empire States Building). We enjoyed a fabulous Chinese buffet and a beautiful sunset. The picture of Revonna and me was taken in those few golden moments when the sun goes to bed. Afterwards, we went to the very top of the building for the revolving view of the city at night. Trying to get my bearings of the city up there proved to be a challenge.

Orchids

While Revonna was still here, we stumbled upon a fantstic orchid show at the Siam Paragon Mall. We could only take a quick stroll through the exhibition because we were on our way to dinner. The sheer number of orchids contained in the exhibit was amazing but coupled with the striking colors, it was breathtaking. Stef, you would have had a fit.