On the first day of Christmas, my journey gave to me:
A long wait in an airport.
The very weary partridge, wishing she were in a pear tree instead of an airport.
I firmly believe the MOST aggravating song that haunts the radio at Christmastime is undoubtedly “The 12 days of Christmas”; however, this year, my Christmas break is exactly 12 days, therefore, instead of pounding your forehead against the steering wheel the next time that terribly repetitive countdown of a song beckons from the dashboard- I will allow you to vicariously live through my 12 days of Southeast Asian adventure blogs. Whoop-whoop. Here we go!
Finally- the clock struck 3:30pm- AND……I WAS OUTTA THERE!
HARK! No more school for me for 2 weeks! Last night I was so relieved with the fact that I didn’t have to go to school today, that it hardly mattered that I was coming on this trip at all! (somewhat). I have been ridiculously excited for this little journey since the day I bought my ticket-November 6th, to be exact. Note: 1 day after Guy Fox day, therefore, somewhat of a post-holiday day. Second Note: If you know what Guy Fox day is, then we should be friends- GOOD friends. Around 3:34pm (not to be too exact,) I dropped my school bags amidst the disaster of my apartment floor, turned the fan on full blast and somehow managed to watch the majority of Season 2 of The Office. Hours past, I dosed in and out of awareness, and somehow between the Casino Night episode and a little bit of a workout session, the hours flew by and it was 1am.
1am, my apartment was still a mess. I realized not one single article of clothing was clean (and when I say “not clean,” I mean…not even close to clean- rather, something more like “I just found a receipt in the pocket of these pants from a movie I went to see LAST month..and, there’s no evidence the ticket has EVER been through the washing machine”
So, I decided to bid my farewells to the peculiar ways of mr. shrute and the charming grin jim halpert and pack.
What did I pack?
A bag full of dirty clothes, ½ a box of cereal, bug spray and my computer.
Five hours later, I was at the Bangkok airport.
It was there that my journey started to become interesting. As my world-traveling Dad has taught me, BE EARLY FOR FLIGHTS. How early? ANNOYING EARLY.
So, I was early- and, apparently TOO early.
Tell me, how is it at all possible that I could have been TOO early? After waiting for nearly an hour for my boarding pass, I approached the ticket counter at 6:30am and the woman said “oh, no. sorry. Come back at 7:25. Move over.”
Last post I admitted to my tendency to be a bit nosey. Okay, MORE than a bit nosey; however, more than nosey, I am not the most chipper of individuals before….umm..noon. So, I stepped aside and starred at the ticket counter for an hour so I could wait in line again and finally go to my gate.
I was in.
Gate G1. Good, good. I sat there making last minute phone calls to say my goodbyes, and then 10 minutes before my flight had to leave I got a phone call from one of the teachers I work with, Gina (super-cool, well-dressed, trendy, fun, from India,) who frantically told me that I needed to get a re-entry visa in order for my Thai work permit to stay valid upon my return to Thailand. I ran to the immigration desk and asked what I could do to make sure I would not have to get a new work permit when I return, and…well..it was too late (I think…we’ll see).
Needless to say…. I have a multiple entry visa (which SHOULD work,) but- who knows.
Now, I’m in Malaysia. My flight here from Bangkok was enjoyable. I’m flying Thai Air Asia the entire time, and I must say that I’m very impressed by the cleanliness of the planes. The not-so-cool part was the fact that you have to buy water and peanuts if you want anything during the flight. NOT COOL. So, I didn’t drink or eat a thing- instead, I read a bit and drooled all over the window, only to wake up 3 hours later here at the Malaysian airport.
Malaysia (from my 3 minute walk from the gate to the airport,) seems less polluted than Thailand, and actually smells a bit like Florida. Actually, to be precise- it smells exactly like being trapped inside that building for Space Mountain waiting line at Disney World in Orlando- but, then again, the only Malaysia I’ve experienced is this airport.
Moving on-I’m sitting in a cozy corner of a cheap airport coffee shop (once again, alone sipping coffee…) sigh- (might as well just strap on the red suspenders now, eh?) waiting for my next flight. I leave here around 4:30pm and I’ll arrive in Bali around 7:45pm. I’m extremely anxious to get there and meet Sandra and all the children. I’m already preparing myself to be overwhelmed at speechless, all while trying to maintain any kind of “cool,” I might possess. THAT reminds me:: I’ve come to realize that I am Brigit Jones. Yes, that’s me (minus the sleeping around with guys and the occupation part). Everything in those movies- her clumsiness, goofiness, attempts to be casually cool and graceful in public settings….note: “attempt,” yep. That really is me.
So..two hours until my flight leaves, which gives me 2 hours to enjoy my now room-temperature coffee and hopefully find something to settle this rumbling in the ol’ tummy. Actually, I’m quite certain I’m experiencing a bit of a negative reaction to my Malaria medication. After I took my first pill last night I read the list of side effects printed on the side of the bottle, which read: “nausea, vomiting and anorexia”.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA. ANOREXIA?
How on earth could anorexia be considered a “side effect”?
In conclusion, here are my life lessons learned on day one of my journey::
1. There IS such a thing as being “too” early
2. You will be thirsty when you fly “Thai”
AND, most importantly::
3.rather than falsely judging the famous Hollywood anorexics, we should first stop and realize it might just be the Malaria meds and not a binge and purge.
..just somethin’ to think about.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
small cup of irony
last winter, a few days past Christmas, I went to the Caribou Coffee shop at Park Plaza just up the street from Taryn's house. I wanted to get away from the noise and dust of the remodeling of Taryn's house, and arrived in the little booth near the frosted window pane, small hazelnut coffee in-hand, around 9am. I had my bible with me and a small notepad for just-in-case notes. Not long after I had settled in my cozy corner did a rather rotund man plow his burly body through the double doors of the shop, scurrying up to the ordering-counter, eventually making his way to the table to my right. His coffee cup was lost in the grasp of his giant, fleshy-pink hands, and began busying himself with papers- so, so many papers. His hair matted with a layer of oil stuck to his forehead and neck. He wore a long-sleeved cotton shirt, charcoal colored sweatpants (2 sizes too small,) red suspenders and hiking boots. I remember thinking to myself "THIS must be what Santa looks like when he goes out for coffee...this is Santa's "down-time" attire.."
Ironically enough, this man had a messenger bag overflowing with newspaper clippings, letters and envelopes. (wait..was this guy really santa? I smirked.) I couldn't help but blankly stare- and, oh, what a daring, courageous stare it was! This man was sitting within 3 feet of me, and I was observing his presence as if I had front row tickets to his life's show. His large frame plopped into the wooden chair and he began shuffeling his papers in a cirular, rythmic motion, now completely covering the surface of the table.
His bag was made of tattered, worn leather- similar to the makings of his boots- slush-covered, tred-worn, loosened laced, boots- santa boots. The paper shuffeling continued- as did my staring- only, now my body was completely repositioned, facing his direction as my presence was absent of all things non-chalant- and STILL, this man didn't look at me...he just continued with those papers, keeping to himself the secrets of their contents..I wanted so badly to sit down at his table and read every single thing written on each one of those darned papers. What were they? Who was he? What was going on over there?
Have I mentioned that I am abnormally nosey? I've always told my mother that I want to have side-view mirrors like those on a car, attached to the side of my head so that I can keep track of what's going on behind and to the sides of me at all times. Only, this time...mirrors wouldn't help. I wanted to know more. Nosey? Yes.
This man captivated my attention..and, eventually, I slightly turned away and continued to read as be carried on with his business. I couldn't help but question this man's existence. Where was he for Christmas? Was he in town visiting family? Does he even have family? What kind of coffee was in his little cup? (I was betting whatever flavor the coffee was, that he ordered it with extra cream and sugar as only Santa would..) and, for goodness sakes, WHAT WAS HE DOING WITH ALL THOSE PAPERS??????!??!?!?!?!?
Just as my mind began to drift back to the contents of my book, he finally spoke.
He spoke to..me.
He said, "A book? It's refreshing to see a girl your age reading a book."
He glanced at my pen in-hand, and notebook and continued on, "And you like to write?..That's even better."
That was all the big man said.
I looked up at him-smiled, let out some sort of awkwardly nervous giggle and continued to read- only, this time, the messiness of that's man's table and hair no longer troubled my thoughts. My mind thought this man mad, strange and different, prior to his spoken words of complimentary worth in my direction- and, with that...I was encouraged.
The irony in this story is that I'm writing this as I sit here... alone, at a coffee shop, surrounded by families and couples- my table hidden by scraps of paper, aimlessly and frantically writing these words to... you. Needless to say, I admit that I have something in common with mr. santa-pants, and that is...I enjoy time to myself.
I stumbled upon this realization over our 3 day weekend we enjoyed last week. After spending 8hrs a day surrounded my students and fellow teachers, I clocked out at precisely 3:30pm on Friday afternoon, and was absent of all English-speaking social interaction from Friday afternoon until Tuesday morning at 7:00am. (oh, excuse me...I did verbally give my address to 3 cab drivers over the weekend,) but, other than that..there was a lot of silence. Prior to my coming here, I would have been strangely bothered by this scenario and feeling nothing short of all things lonely; however, it seems that I've become something similar to that of the greasy mr. santa-paper-pants in that I really do enjoy time alone. I've been to the mall on my own..out for coffee..grocery shopping...dinner..lunch..even breakfast- all alone, and surprisingly enough, I don't mind it!
However, do I prefer it?
All this alone time has led me to wonder if I'll one day find myself rummaging through a bag full of papers on a cool winter's morning, sitting beside a wide-eyed, curious youngster, sipping coffee in my tight sweatpants and red suspenders.
Ironically enough, this man had a messenger bag overflowing with newspaper clippings, letters and envelopes. (wait..was this guy really santa? I smirked.) I couldn't help but blankly stare- and, oh, what a daring, courageous stare it was! This man was sitting within 3 feet of me, and I was observing his presence as if I had front row tickets to his life's show. His large frame plopped into the wooden chair and he began shuffeling his papers in a cirular, rythmic motion, now completely covering the surface of the table.
His bag was made of tattered, worn leather- similar to the makings of his boots- slush-covered, tred-worn, loosened laced, boots- santa boots. The paper shuffeling continued- as did my staring- only, now my body was completely repositioned, facing his direction as my presence was absent of all things non-chalant- and STILL, this man didn't look at me...he just continued with those papers, keeping to himself the secrets of their contents..I wanted so badly to sit down at his table and read every single thing written on each one of those darned papers. What were they? Who was he? What was going on over there?
Have I mentioned that I am abnormally nosey? I've always told my mother that I want to have side-view mirrors like those on a car, attached to the side of my head so that I can keep track of what's going on behind and to the sides of me at all times. Only, this time...mirrors wouldn't help. I wanted to know more. Nosey? Yes.
This man captivated my attention..and, eventually, I slightly turned away and continued to read as be carried on with his business. I couldn't help but question this man's existence. Where was he for Christmas? Was he in town visiting family? Does he even have family? What kind of coffee was in his little cup? (I was betting whatever flavor the coffee was, that he ordered it with extra cream and sugar as only Santa would..) and, for goodness sakes, WHAT WAS HE DOING WITH ALL THOSE PAPERS??????!??!?!?!?!?
Just as my mind began to drift back to the contents of my book, he finally spoke.
He spoke to..me.
He said, "A book? It's refreshing to see a girl your age reading a book."
He glanced at my pen in-hand, and notebook and continued on, "And you like to write?..That's even better."
That was all the big man said.
I looked up at him-smiled, let out some sort of awkwardly nervous giggle and continued to read- only, this time, the messiness of that's man's table and hair no longer troubled my thoughts. My mind thought this man mad, strange and different, prior to his spoken words of complimentary worth in my direction- and, with that...I was encouraged.
The irony in this story is that I'm writing this as I sit here... alone, at a coffee shop, surrounded by families and couples- my table hidden by scraps of paper, aimlessly and frantically writing these words to... you. Needless to say, I admit that I have something in common with mr. santa-pants, and that is...I enjoy time to myself.
I stumbled upon this realization over our 3 day weekend we enjoyed last week. After spending 8hrs a day surrounded my students and fellow teachers, I clocked out at precisely 3:30pm on Friday afternoon, and was absent of all English-speaking social interaction from Friday afternoon until Tuesday morning at 7:00am. (oh, excuse me...I did verbally give my address to 3 cab drivers over the weekend,) but, other than that..there was a lot of silence. Prior to my coming here, I would have been strangely bothered by this scenario and feeling nothing short of all things lonely; however, it seems that I've become something similar to that of the greasy mr. santa-paper-pants in that I really do enjoy time alone. I've been to the mall on my own..out for coffee..grocery shopping...dinner..lunch..even breakfast- all alone, and surprisingly enough, I don't mind it!
However, do I prefer it?
All this alone time has led me to wonder if I'll one day find myself rummaging through a bag full of papers on a cool winter's morning, sitting beside a wide-eyed, curious youngster, sipping coffee in my tight sweatpants and red suspenders.
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