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.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
the shallow and profound
Besides over-sized handbags, side-swiped bangs and macbooks, the current trend of world seems to be heading down the path of searching for the significant and profound. Most of the people I know are in somewhat of a soul-searching, significance-seeking aspect of life where we long to be wiser, deeper individuals. It seems at times there are things that are too insignificant to do, especially when seeking employment. "I don't want to a be a bag-boy for the rest of my life..." or, "what good is waiting tables? I want to do something profound..I want to go "out into the world," and change the world..."
Yesterday afternoon I was reading what Oswald Chamebers had to say about the "significance" and "profound" we're searching for. Based on 1 Corinthians 10:31- "Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God".Yes, yes..I know- you've heard this verse before; however, this verse got me thinking.
Chambers says "We humans refuse to be shallow, not out of our deep devotion to God but because we wish to impress other people with the fact that we are not shallow."
Oh, how true- how, very true. As a 22 year old, single, female (no, this isn't a personal ad) there seems to be somewhat of an outside pressure to be "more" than who and what I am. Change this. Change that. Fix this. Fix that- so many pressures not to be the typical barbie-doll, mindless female who is interested in nothing more than Paris Hilton's latest fragrance and Britney's latest hair-style (or, lack thereof). I do admit that one of my lifetime goals is to avoid a shallow lifestyle. Avoiding shallow people, shallow books, shallow movies, shallow conversation, shallow, meaningless jobs..etc- avoiding everything and anything that doesn't seem to add some sort of weighty significance to my life; but, why? Why am I (and maybe you, too?) why are we so worried with becoming so "profound"?
Chambers continues on to say:
"Beware of posing as a profound person- God became a baby.
The ocean has a shore. Even the shallow things in life are ordained by God-
Never show the depth of your life to anyone but God. We are so nauseatingly serious, so desperately interested in our own character and reputation, we refuse to behave like Chrsitians in the shallow concerns of life. Make a determination to take no one seriously except God. You may find that the first person you must be most critical with, as being the greatest fraud you have ever known, is yourself"
If we are to do whatever we do all to the glory of God- this too, includes the shallow.
hmmmmmmmm....
Yesterday afternoon I was reading what Oswald Chamebers had to say about the "significance" and "profound" we're searching for. Based on 1 Corinthians 10:31- "Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God".Yes, yes..I know- you've heard this verse before; however, this verse got me thinking.
Chambers says "We humans refuse to be shallow, not out of our deep devotion to God but because we wish to impress other people with the fact that we are not shallow."
Oh, how true- how, very true. As a 22 year old, single, female (no, this isn't a personal ad) there seems to be somewhat of an outside pressure to be "more" than who and what I am. Change this. Change that. Fix this. Fix that- so many pressures not to be the typical barbie-doll, mindless female who is interested in nothing more than Paris Hilton's latest fragrance and Britney's latest hair-style (or, lack thereof). I do admit that one of my lifetime goals is to avoid a shallow lifestyle. Avoiding shallow people, shallow books, shallow movies, shallow conversation, shallow, meaningless jobs..etc- avoiding everything and anything that doesn't seem to add some sort of weighty significance to my life; but, why? Why am I (and maybe you, too?) why are we so worried with becoming so "profound"?
Chambers continues on to say:
"Beware of posing as a profound person- God became a baby.
The ocean has a shore. Even the shallow things in life are ordained by God-
Never show the depth of your life to anyone but God. We are so nauseatingly serious, so desperately interested in our own character and reputation, we refuse to behave like Chrsitians in the shallow concerns of life. Make a determination to take no one seriously except God. You may find that the first person you must be most critical with, as being the greatest fraud you have ever known, is yourself"
If we are to do whatever we do all to the glory of God- this too, includes the shallow.
hmmmmmmmm....
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
khob kun kah
It seems as though I've been living in a manner of Thanksgiving Day defecit, carrying myself in a similar fashion as the unfortunately scheduled grocery store cashiers and bagboys of which, like myself, will be working on the day of American feasting extravaganza.
Thanksgiving- (my favorite holiday as I'm sure I've mentioned,) collects not only family, friends, buttery corn, mashed potatoes, fluffy stuffing, fruity dressings and decetant pies, a restful nap (or two. or..three,) but Thanksgiving Day indeed celebrates my mentally scheduled calendar date of "CHRISTMAS IS THIS MUCH CLOSER!" Thanksgiving, ah yes, how splendid a day. Good people. Good food..and, similar to a birthday, people are overly expressive about how grateful they are for God's blessings.
So, question is- is distance stronger than tradition?
Will 11,000 miles separate me from a lifetime of celebration and thanks?
Will the reality that I'm at school preparing to teach my next class at 9:15am, the Official Thanksgiving Day- Thursday, November 22 2007- rather than sitting around in cordorouy pants and a sweater munching on cheese and pre-meal treats, mean that this Thanksgiving will go uncelebrated?
No.
No.
No.
You see, my dear friends, right now in America it's your Wednesday, 9:15pm. Thanksgiving (for you) isn't for a few more hours. HOWEVER, my first proclaimation of thanks goes to the clever power of a little something I like to call.."time zones". Basically, today, all day, it will be Thanksgiving Day for me in Thailand. Tomorrow morning, it will be Thanksgiving in America- (and, I being the proud American that I am,) will insist that I continue my celebration all day Friday as well; therefore, if I've done my math correctly- I will be celebrating TWICE.
The opportunity for twice the celebration, I must add, is very convenient in that I believe over this past year, I have been blessed with twice as much (if not more,) than I ever should have been- so, having to have squeezed all those thanks into only one day would have been as futile as all the American early-bird shoppers that wake up Friday morning after their gravy-drenched feastings trying to slip into their ol' "skinny" jeans. (Guess the fifth helping of Grandma's sweet potato casserole didn't help..right?)
Reflecting over the last year seems to lead me nowhere but to my knees. God has given me family. God has given me friends. God has given me "things". "Things," that seem to make life less difficult at times- "things" for which I am thankful. Above the who's, the what's and whatever's, God has so graciously given me life. A life that He created and a life that He has given, and all he desires in return is my heart unwaivered by timezone, calendar or clock. He desires my heart because.... He sent me His.
...a love so deep that "thankful" cannot describe even once- or, twice.
Thanksgiving- (my favorite holiday as I'm sure I've mentioned,) collects not only family, friends, buttery corn, mashed potatoes, fluffy stuffing, fruity dressings and decetant pies, a restful nap (or two. or..three,) but Thanksgiving Day indeed celebrates my mentally scheduled calendar date of "CHRISTMAS IS THIS MUCH CLOSER!" Thanksgiving, ah yes, how splendid a day. Good people. Good food..and, similar to a birthday, people are overly expressive about how grateful they are for God's blessings.
So, question is- is distance stronger than tradition?
Will 11,000 miles separate me from a lifetime of celebration and thanks?
Will the reality that I'm at school preparing to teach my next class at 9:15am, the Official Thanksgiving Day- Thursday, November 22 2007- rather than sitting around in cordorouy pants and a sweater munching on cheese and pre-meal treats, mean that this Thanksgiving will go uncelebrated?
No.
No.
No.
You see, my dear friends, right now in America it's your Wednesday, 9:15pm. Thanksgiving (for you) isn't for a few more hours. HOWEVER, my first proclaimation of thanks goes to the clever power of a little something I like to call.."time zones". Basically, today, all day, it will be Thanksgiving Day for me in Thailand. Tomorrow morning, it will be Thanksgiving in America- (and, I being the proud American that I am,) will insist that I continue my celebration all day Friday as well; therefore, if I've done my math correctly- I will be celebrating TWICE.
The opportunity for twice the celebration, I must add, is very convenient in that I believe over this past year, I have been blessed with twice as much (if not more,) than I ever should have been- so, having to have squeezed all those thanks into only one day would have been as futile as all the American early-bird shoppers that wake up Friday morning after their gravy-drenched feastings trying to slip into their ol' "skinny" jeans. (Guess the fifth helping of Grandma's sweet potato casserole didn't help..right?)
Reflecting over the last year seems to lead me nowhere but to my knees. God has given me family. God has given me friends. God has given me "things". "Things," that seem to make life less difficult at times- "things" for which I am thankful. Above the who's, the what's and whatever's, God has so graciously given me life. A life that He created and a life that He has given, and all he desires in return is my heart unwaivered by timezone, calendar or clock. He desires my heart because.... He sent me His.
...a love so deep that "thankful" cannot describe even once- or, twice.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
yee sib sorng.
meaning: twenty-two.
sounds like gibberish? well, welcome to the Thai language.
my first birthday out of the country, and, i must confess that this birthday (though insignificant in number,) may have been the best birthday i've ever had. in the past, usual birthday traditions included an early-morning birthday wish from my mom, beckoning from the kitchen that my "L"-shaped birthday pancakes were getting cold and that if I didn't wake my lazy, birthday-butt out of bed, I'd most likely be late for school. Once at school, classmates would congratulate me on another year of life completed with treasures such as awkward side-hugs, hand-made cards (my favorite), and maybe, just maybe, a wonderfully performed rendition of "happy birthday" sung in the tone of voice-change. After the 3 o'clock bell would ring, the nighttime birthday fun would begin; dinner out, presents, celebration and several phone calls from various family members packaging long-distance encouraging words for my birthday enjoyment.
Ah, yes..the birthday. What I love most about having a birthday is that that one day, it never fails that everyone is so concerned with your happiness. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! crowds, strangers and loved-ones cheer with smiles- (and sometimes, even balloons!) Afterall, nothing bad ever comes from an occassion with balloons- UNLESS, it's a hot-air balloon. Hot-air balloons are like the birthday balloon's high-altitude, risky, firey, evil little brother, out to destroy all the good that comes with birthdays- which, of course, is why I NEVER plan on riding in an air-balloon (or an airboat,) because, afterall, I'd like to enjoy the remainder of birthdays the Lord may give me on this earth.
Why was this past birthday so special? Being required to attend 3 hours of mandatory church services indeed added no significance whatsoever to the 14th of November of 2007 for yours truly; rather, there are 10 little 5th graders of whom I hold so dearly to my now 22-year old heart that made my day-my birthday-so spectaular. As I approached my homeroom around 7:30am, I heard rustling, yelling, running, screaming- excitment. As I entered the room (not even knowing they had any knowledge that it was my birthday,) I approached my desk only to find a birthday cake sitting on my chair. As they all screamed, "Happy Birthday, Ms. Lauren!!!!," they immediately ran up to my desk, showering me with crayola-made prizes, presents and tokens of appreciation. They sang, they danced and they rejoiced- and a seemingly normal day turned into a day of excitement. Every corner I turned random students would yell "HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY! MS. LAUREN! MS LAUREN, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" I may have heard that phrase more in that one day than I've ever heard on all my other birthdays altogether.
After the school day ended, my friend Mike and I opted out of church-dinner (which was a wise decision, seeing that the menu for the evening was something I like to call "nasty-fish-balls-in-oily-garlic-water soup") and went out for a good meal, and holiday coffee at Starbucks. That evening, I went to church and returned back to my apartment to spend the majority of the evening on the phone with my very-missed family members and friends. My day came to a close, laying in bed with an apple-pie-scented candle burning as I wrote in my new journal.
My day- my 22nd birthday- though absent of L-shaped pancakes and close family, was.... perfect.
I've made a few decisions for the age of 22. So many birthdays in the past have actually left me feeling a bit empty and I realize it was all by my own doing. Disappointments, self-inflicted pain and depression...all for no reason. I've come to the point to where I'm at the age where I have to start taking control of a few areas of my life concerning my day-to-day happiness. A few things, here-and-there, have gone neglected by the duties of each day- and, I like to say that although it's not the New Year, for me, it IS a new year. A new year of life, (regardless of what the calendar says,) and a year that I truly believe will be the best yet. Not a DAY..but instead, a YEAR to celebrate life...Mentally, spiritually, emotionally and physically- change. newness. freshness.
so, hello, twenty-two- nice to meet you.
not a day- but, a year. a year for me..and, a year for you too (regardless of the calendar date)..
So, to all of you, a word of encouragement as well-
these words of worth and wisdom were written to me in a lovely little card of scribbles and paste by boy named Eun-Ki (3rd grade,)which read:
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALL THE TIME."
sounds like gibberish? well, welcome to the Thai language.
my first birthday out of the country, and, i must confess that this birthday (though insignificant in number,) may have been the best birthday i've ever had. in the past, usual birthday traditions included an early-morning birthday wish from my mom, beckoning from the kitchen that my "L"-shaped birthday pancakes were getting cold and that if I didn't wake my lazy, birthday-butt out of bed, I'd most likely be late for school. Once at school, classmates would congratulate me on another year of life completed with treasures such as awkward side-hugs, hand-made cards (my favorite), and maybe, just maybe, a wonderfully performed rendition of "happy birthday" sung in the tone of voice-change. After the 3 o'clock bell would ring, the nighttime birthday fun would begin; dinner out, presents, celebration and several phone calls from various family members packaging long-distance encouraging words for my birthday enjoyment.
Ah, yes..the birthday. What I love most about having a birthday is that that one day, it never fails that everyone is so concerned with your happiness. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! crowds, strangers and loved-ones cheer with smiles- (and sometimes, even balloons!) Afterall, nothing bad ever comes from an occassion with balloons- UNLESS, it's a hot-air balloon. Hot-air balloons are like the birthday balloon's high-altitude, risky, firey, evil little brother, out to destroy all the good that comes with birthdays- which, of course, is why I NEVER plan on riding in an air-balloon (or an airboat,) because, afterall, I'd like to enjoy the remainder of birthdays the Lord may give me on this earth.
Why was this past birthday so special? Being required to attend 3 hours of mandatory church services indeed added no significance whatsoever to the 14th of November of 2007 for yours truly; rather, there are 10 little 5th graders of whom I hold so dearly to my now 22-year old heart that made my day-my birthday-so spectaular. As I approached my homeroom around 7:30am, I heard rustling, yelling, running, screaming- excitment. As I entered the room (not even knowing they had any knowledge that it was my birthday,) I approached my desk only to find a birthday cake sitting on my chair. As they all screamed, "Happy Birthday, Ms. Lauren!!!!," they immediately ran up to my desk, showering me with crayola-made prizes, presents and tokens of appreciation. They sang, they danced and they rejoiced- and a seemingly normal day turned into a day of excitement. Every corner I turned random students would yell "HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY! MS. LAUREN! MS LAUREN, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" I may have heard that phrase more in that one day than I've ever heard on all my other birthdays altogether.
After the school day ended, my friend Mike and I opted out of church-dinner (which was a wise decision, seeing that the menu for the evening was something I like to call "nasty-fish-balls-in-oily-garlic-water soup") and went out for a good meal, and holiday coffee at Starbucks. That evening, I went to church and returned back to my apartment to spend the majority of the evening on the phone with my very-missed family members and friends. My day came to a close, laying in bed with an apple-pie-scented candle burning as I wrote in my new journal.
My day- my 22nd birthday- though absent of L-shaped pancakes and close family, was.... perfect.
I've made a few decisions for the age of 22. So many birthdays in the past have actually left me feeling a bit empty and I realize it was all by my own doing. Disappointments, self-inflicted pain and depression...all for no reason. I've come to the point to where I'm at the age where I have to start taking control of a few areas of my life concerning my day-to-day happiness. A few things, here-and-there, have gone neglected by the duties of each day- and, I like to say that although it's not the New Year, for me, it IS a new year. A new year of life, (regardless of what the calendar says,) and a year that I truly believe will be the best yet. Not a DAY..but instead, a YEAR to celebrate life...Mentally, spiritually, emotionally and physically- change. newness. freshness.
so, hello, twenty-two- nice to meet you.
not a day- but, a year. a year for me..and, a year for you too (regardless of the calendar date)..
So, to all of you, a word of encouragement as well-
these words of worth and wisdom were written to me in a lovely little card of scribbles and paste by boy named Eun-Ki (3rd grade,)which read:
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALL THE TIME."
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
bottled water and an old man aussie.
this past weekend Mike and I travelled to Kanchanaburi and stayed at the BlueStar guesthouses. For 100 baht (3 dollars) the room included two single beds, a bathroom, fan, porch and a small card table with 2 chairs to sit and enjoy the view of the river. The guesthouse was made of bamboo and wood, and stood on stilts over the river (we could see through the floor boards of our hut down onto the surface of the water).. The next day we woke up and rode the train on The Death Railway into the mountains. The railroad was constructed during WWII and over 100,000 POW's died building it. When the Japanese had captured the land, they forced Thai, American, and Aussie POW's to construct the railway to connect to Burma. The trecherous conditions and malnourishment killed thousands upon thousands of POW's. During the time that these POW's were building the railroad, they were being bombed by their own countries (in attack to stop the Japanese) Life was horrible for these people..the Japanese would kill them if they didn't work hard or they'd soon be bombed by their own people if the railroad wasn't soon completed.
We rode the train to HellFire Pas (it used to be part of the railway) until the Burmese tore up their part of the track, disconnecting the railway into their country- however, even though the railroad has been torn up, a path way leads through the mountains for about 3miles that you can hike.
So, we hiked that and spent the day in the woods wandering around taking pictures at scenic overlooks and certain areas marked "BOMB CRATER".
Yes, that's right. I have a picture of myself standing in a WWII Bomb Crater in the mountains of Hell Fire Pass. Quite the photo-op, eh?
The weekend was indeed adventurous; however, I believe my favorite part of the whole weekend was meeting an Australian man on the train who uttered these words of wisdom and hilarity:
Pulling out an ice cold water from his bag after riding on the train for nearly 3 hours, I oddly looked at him in shock- how had he gotten cold water?!
He looks at me, smirk on his tanned face and states:
"Froze it last night. hah. Us Aussies are clever people-
we invented ice and stuff like that-"
as he smiled and enjoyed his frosty beverage. After several drowning gulps of his water, looks back at me and says [concerning water]:
"..eh..it's not as good as beer- but,....I guess it's okay."
Cheers.
We rode the train to HellFire Pas (it used to be part of the railway) until the Burmese tore up their part of the track, disconnecting the railway into their country- however, even though the railroad has been torn up, a path way leads through the mountains for about 3miles that you can hike.
So, we hiked that and spent the day in the woods wandering around taking pictures at scenic overlooks and certain areas marked "BOMB CRATER".
Yes, that's right. I have a picture of myself standing in a WWII Bomb Crater in the mountains of Hell Fire Pass. Quite the photo-op, eh?
The weekend was indeed adventurous; however, I believe my favorite part of the whole weekend was meeting an Australian man on the train who uttered these words of wisdom and hilarity:
Pulling out an ice cold water from his bag after riding on the train for nearly 3 hours, I oddly looked at him in shock- how had he gotten cold water?!
He looks at me, smirk on his tanned face and states:
"Froze it last night. hah. Us Aussies are clever people-
we invented ice and stuff like that-"
as he smiled and enjoyed his frosty beverage. After several drowning gulps of his water, looks back at me and says [concerning water]:
"..eh..it's not as good as beer- but,....I guess it's okay."
Cheers.
Monday, November 5, 2007
HARK!
GOOD, GOOD news.
first thing: Mike and I were looking on ThaiTicketmaster yesterday afternoon to see if there were any forms of live entertainment we'd be interesting in seeing and most of the entertainment was something like "thai cultural dance and motivational speaking.." ? I couldn't imagine an event like that.. so, I was about to log off the website until, to my surprise and shock, a little advertisement screaming "MUSE: LIVE IN BANGKOK NOV. 28" appeared before my little eyes. Needless to say, I went to the ticket office directly after school and bought my ticket. Life lesson: If you get the chance to see MUSE in concert- YOU MUST GO. ALWAYS.
SECOND THING: I heard back from the orphanage in Indonesia and they want me to come during my Christmas break... I can't wait! I still have to buy my plane ticket to get there (which is quite a lengthy process,) but, I'm going! I found this orphanage through a GOOGLE search and when I read the information about it, I immediately emailed them and asked them if I could be of any service. I found the information from the webpage for you::
SEEDS OF HOPE CHILDREN'S HOME
Jalan Panji N0.7 Kwanji
Desa Dalung Kec Kuta Utara
BALI, INDONESIA
PH: 62 361 422 677
DIRECTOR: REV TOMMY & MRS SANDRA
The orphanage was established in 2001. Rev Tommy purchased the building with his own money and some assistance from a group of people from Perth Australia. Many of the children came from nearby Hope orphanage which is run by his sister Tris. The orphanage has a very warm feeling and Tommy and his wife Sandra’s love for the children is obvious. The children are very happy and conditions are acceptable.
To look after the children costs the orphange AUD$42.00 per month. This provides food, shelter and schooling excluding medical care. The cost of medical care always beyond most orphanages in Bali. A nurse visits every 3 months. This costs around AUD$6.00 per visit but all they can afford. They simply do the best they can with the medication they have on hand. There are currently 80 children at the orphanage. 47 boys and 33 girls aged from 3 to 20 years. The children who cannot find a job when they leave the orphanage are allowed to stay in return for helping the younger children. The children learn music and boys mechanics and spray painting. Rev. Tommy would like a computer school for the children in the future.
The newest child is Michael who’s twin sister Michelle also lives at the orphanage. Their parents have 6 children and work in a garment factory. They could not afford to care for the twins and placed them into the orphanage. They visit the children once a month. The twins are a delight as are all the children at Seeds of Hope. The children accept children from all religious backgrounds and respect their beliefs.
Sandra recently had a stroke and is now limited in her day to day activity. Despite poor health Sandra continues to help the children and her love shines through.
A Visit to Seeds of Hope will leave you with lasting memories of 80 beautiful
chlldren and the strength of the human spirit against the odds.
The orphanage is very happy to receive visitors between 2.00 pm. and 6.00 pm. An appointment is not necessary but I do suggest you call first out of courtesy.
The orphanage has no sponsorship program.
So, this is wher I am headed for Christmas. Yes, I am going alone; however, it's a nonstop flight from Bangkok to the airport there, and I trust that getting from the airport to the orphanage shouldn't be too difficult. I am not sure exactly what I will be doing there or where I will stay- BUT, I am planning on going and we'll see what unfolds once I get there.
Until then, it's turning 22, parent/teacher conferences and the MUSE concert.
time for class..grade 8 English.
first thing: Mike and I were looking on ThaiTicketmaster yesterday afternoon to see if there were any forms of live entertainment we'd be interesting in seeing and most of the entertainment was something like "thai cultural dance and motivational speaking.." ? I couldn't imagine an event like that.. so, I was about to log off the website until, to my surprise and shock, a little advertisement screaming "MUSE: LIVE IN BANGKOK NOV. 28" appeared before my little eyes. Needless to say, I went to the ticket office directly after school and bought my ticket. Life lesson: If you get the chance to see MUSE in concert- YOU MUST GO. ALWAYS.
SECOND THING: I heard back from the orphanage in Indonesia and they want me to come during my Christmas break... I can't wait! I still have to buy my plane ticket to get there (which is quite a lengthy process,) but, I'm going! I found this orphanage through a GOOGLE search and when I read the information about it, I immediately emailed them and asked them if I could be of any service. I found the information from the webpage for you::
SEEDS OF HOPE CHILDREN'S HOME
Jalan Panji N0.7 Kwanji
Desa Dalung Kec Kuta Utara
BALI, INDONESIA
PH: 62 361 422 677
DIRECTOR: REV TOMMY & MRS SANDRA
The orphanage was established in 2001. Rev Tommy purchased the building with his own money and some assistance from a group of people from Perth Australia. Many of the children came from nearby Hope orphanage which is run by his sister Tris. The orphanage has a very warm feeling and Tommy and his wife Sandra’s love for the children is obvious. The children are very happy and conditions are acceptable.
To look after the children costs the orphange AUD$42.00 per month. This provides food, shelter and schooling excluding medical care. The cost of medical care always beyond most orphanages in Bali. A nurse visits every 3 months. This costs around AUD$6.00 per visit but all they can afford. They simply do the best they can with the medication they have on hand. There are currently 80 children at the orphanage. 47 boys and 33 girls aged from 3 to 20 years. The children who cannot find a job when they leave the orphanage are allowed to stay in return for helping the younger children. The children learn music and boys mechanics and spray painting. Rev. Tommy would like a computer school for the children in the future.
The newest child is Michael who’s twin sister Michelle also lives at the orphanage. Their parents have 6 children and work in a garment factory. They could not afford to care for the twins and placed them into the orphanage. They visit the children once a month. The twins are a delight as are all the children at Seeds of Hope. The children accept children from all religious backgrounds and respect their beliefs.
Sandra recently had a stroke and is now limited in her day to day activity. Despite poor health Sandra continues to help the children and her love shines through.
A Visit to Seeds of Hope will leave you with lasting memories of 80 beautiful
chlldren and the strength of the human spirit against the odds.
The orphanage is very happy to receive visitors between 2.00 pm. and 6.00 pm. An appointment is not necessary but I do suggest you call first out of courtesy.
The orphanage has no sponsorship program.
So, this is wher I am headed for Christmas. Yes, I am going alone; however, it's a nonstop flight from Bangkok to the airport there, and I trust that getting from the airport to the orphanage shouldn't be too difficult. I am not sure exactly what I will be doing there or where I will stay- BUT, I am planning on going and we'll see what unfolds once I get there.
Until then, it's turning 22, parent/teacher conferences and the MUSE concert.
time for class..grade 8 English.
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