Thailand. Maybe my feelings for it are like those a parent might have for her rebellious teen. It can get on my nerves, annoy me, make me yell and scream at times, but then deep down, I still love it dearly.
I hope I won't ever forget my days of
daily eating Thai food-for only $1-that is so spicy and flavorful it makes my taste-buds do the the salsa with every bite.
swimming outside my husband's old gym on hot December nights in dark water magically glowing from the gym lights and gazing at the stars peeking out under the palm trees dancing in the breeze.
never driving but always riding: the skytrain, subway, rickety buses, tuk-tuks, motorcycles, taxis, bikes, and of course walking to get around the city.
eating dinner with my hubby Thai-style on the floor in our tiny studio while watching Prison Break episodes we downloaded on his laptop.
sipping cheap iced drinks from sweaty, smiling street vendors-- cappuccinos, chayen, coco, lemon tea...ahhh...
escaping Bangkok for the weekend and remembering that emerald oceans, white sands, cotton-candy blue waterfalls, friendly monkeys, ancient ruins, and refreshing mountain air really do exist in Thailand.
meeting and befriending treasures from all over the world--Swedes, Californians, Canadians, Vietnamese, Koreans, Japanese, Singaporeans, Chinese, British, Trinidadians, Irish, Russians, Zimbabweans, and Malaysians.
falling in love with my husband
my Thai sisters helping me pick out my perfect wedding dress.
walking to work everyday while repeating the speech in Thai I memorized to say at the reception to my hubby
looking out at the shining Grand Palace on the other side of the river during our wedding ceremony and marveling at how unpredictable life is.
teaching hard-working Asian kiddos who can all pronounce my new last name, Phengchard, correctly.
I think this list could become endless, so I will stop now and write more as the days pass and I become more and more nostalgic. I hope when those Thailand missing pains come in America, I can look at this and smile.
God gave us memories that we might have roses in December. ~J.M. Barrie, Courage, 1922
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