I have started a new blog! I might blog at sharingsher from time to time as well, but check out the new one called: America Through an Immigrant's Eyes to hear about Dom and I as we are on our new adventure in America!
immigranteyes.wordpress.com
:)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Cinderella
Stir-fried chicken with broccoli, a random Thai veggie that resembles a wee cabbage, mixed in a firey flavorful Thai red pepper sauce with dark purple rice on the side. Oh my!
And for dessert crispy guava with a warm coconut sugar and spice sauce that reminds me of the taste of caramel dipped apples from a county fair.
And he wouldn't let me help at all! He always wisely chooses all the fresh produce and chicken from the Thai market down the street, and then lets me rest on the bed reading my book while he cooks away in our little red plug-in hot pot on our tiny balcony.
I never knew how fun it would be to be married to someone whose love language is serving. It makes me feel like Cinderella who never dreamed she would one day be a princess.
But the thing is, I love to cook and invent dishes that bring joy to the eater's taste buds. Yet, since we dont have a kitchen, and only a hot pot, and it's easier for my hubby to do the market shopping, I haven't had the chance to shower my husband with food love. But at least I have had the chance to receive his showering.
The day is coming though, perhaps only five weeks away, when we will return to Waxhaw and stay with my parents for awhile at their house where there is a kitchen with an actual stove and oven, and a grocery store nearby with American products that aren't grossly over-priced!
As for now though, I will enjoy being Cinderella with my Prince.
And for dessert crispy guava with a warm coconut sugar and spice sauce that reminds me of the taste of caramel dipped apples from a county fair.
And he wouldn't let me help at all! He always wisely chooses all the fresh produce and chicken from the Thai market down the street, and then lets me rest on the bed reading my book while he cooks away in our little red plug-in hot pot on our tiny balcony.
I never knew how fun it would be to be married to someone whose love language is serving. It makes me feel like Cinderella who never dreamed she would one day be a princess.
But the thing is, I love to cook and invent dishes that bring joy to the eater's taste buds. Yet, since we dont have a kitchen, and only a hot pot, and it's easier for my hubby to do the market shopping, I haven't had the chance to shower my husband with food love. But at least I have had the chance to receive his showering.
The day is coming though, perhaps only five weeks away, when we will return to Waxhaw and stay with my parents for awhile at their house where there is a kitchen with an actual stove and oven, and a grocery store nearby with American products that aren't grossly over-priced!
As for now though, I will enjoy being Cinderella with my Prince.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Airport People
Magical places of arrival, in-between, and departure, airports, how I love them.
From Sherri's Perspective, there are three major groups of passengers at airports. The first are the in-betweeners. They are the sitting ones who typically look bored out of their minds, or if they don't look bored out of their minds, they are sleeping in awkward, back and neck cricking positions on hard plastic chairs. There are some who are productive: they are engrossed in books, networking on Blackberries, or chatting on their phones. Others are eating with languid faces. But most of them have the same expression of blah at where they are and either dreaming of their destination, or where they came from.
Then there are the arrivalers split into two groups. The first group are those who are so stoked to be at their destination. You see them scampering, dancing, smiling, crying, as they collide with loved ones, or a loved home they have missed, or a loved place they have never been to but finally have arrived at.
Then the others are those who have arrived, but it doesn't even phase them. The same vapid, empty expression remains on their faces. They drudge through the winding halls, get their bags and leave with no fanfare. Maybe they dont want to be at their destination, they don't have a home to look forward to, they were forced to come, and dream to be one of the frolicking ones who is thrilled to be exactly where they are.
Lastly, there are the departurers. There are also two groups of these people. The first group are hugging, and crying, but more in the melancholy way than the merry way. They don't want to leave their place of love and comfort, and dread what lies before them. They want to stay where they are, but know that it can't be, thus the crying.
The other group might be hugging and crying, but behind their tears and tight hugs, there is a twinkle in their eyes. They know they are leaving behind loved ones and comfort, but they are going somewhere new, on an adventure. They know saying good-bye is the price to pay for their adventure, but it's worth it, thus the twinkle.
So if my life was an airport right now, and me a passenger, I think Im the in-betweener. Im in the waiting, at my seemingly eternal lay-over. I feel done with my adventure, and now am eager for the next one, but it seems so faraway still. Will I ever arrive? Will my plane ever take-off? Im sure things that have happened the last few months have pushed me from excited arrivaler to a bored in-betweener, but whatever it was, that's where I am.
But soon I will be a departurer. I will be crying, and hugging Thailand tight, but, yes, there will be a large twinkle in my eye.
And then...hopefully I can bring some joy to the departurers and in-betweeners, when I finally become a frolicking, dancing, crying, hugging arrivaler at the airport. Come for the show if ya want!
From Sherri's Perspective, there are three major groups of passengers at airports. The first are the in-betweeners. They are the sitting ones who typically look bored out of their minds, or if they don't look bored out of their minds, they are sleeping in awkward, back and neck cricking positions on hard plastic chairs. There are some who are productive: they are engrossed in books, networking on Blackberries, or chatting on their phones. Others are eating with languid faces. But most of them have the same expression of blah at where they are and either dreaming of their destination, or where they came from.
Then there are the arrivalers split into two groups. The first group are those who are so stoked to be at their destination. You see them scampering, dancing, smiling, crying, as they collide with loved ones, or a loved home they have missed, or a loved place they have never been to but finally have arrived at.
Then the others are those who have arrived, but it doesn't even phase them. The same vapid, empty expression remains on their faces. They drudge through the winding halls, get their bags and leave with no fanfare. Maybe they dont want to be at their destination, they don't have a home to look forward to, they were forced to come, and dream to be one of the frolicking ones who is thrilled to be exactly where they are.
Lastly, there are the departurers. There are also two groups of these people. The first group are hugging, and crying, but more in the melancholy way than the merry way. They don't want to leave their place of love and comfort, and dread what lies before them. They want to stay where they are, but know that it can't be, thus the crying.
The other group might be hugging and crying, but behind their tears and tight hugs, there is a twinkle in their eyes. They know they are leaving behind loved ones and comfort, but they are going somewhere new, on an adventure. They know saying good-bye is the price to pay for their adventure, but it's worth it, thus the twinkle.
So if my life was an airport right now, and me a passenger, I think Im the in-betweener. Im in the waiting, at my seemingly eternal lay-over. I feel done with my adventure, and now am eager for the next one, but it seems so faraway still. Will I ever arrive? Will my plane ever take-off? Im sure things that have happened the last few months have pushed me from excited arrivaler to a bored in-betweener, but whatever it was, that's where I am.
But soon I will be a departurer. I will be crying, and hugging Thailand tight, but, yes, there will be a large twinkle in my eye.
And then...hopefully I can bring some joy to the departurers and in-betweeners, when I finally become a frolicking, dancing, crying, hugging arrivaler at the airport. Come for the show if ya want!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Mangroves, Mud, Monkeys
"Bring a swim suit." Typical Thai fashion, given a few facts, and you are left to fill in the details. Of course we assumed we were going to the beach, so I brought my white and pink two piece, with my matching white and pink sarong to wear as a cover-up over my suit.
All 14 of us, our two American friends, and the rest newly met Thai friends, piled into a 14 passenger party van. Well, if it was night, instead of at 7:30a.m., I would have pictured it as a party van. There were huge round speakers in the roof, and fluorescent lights ran up and down the interior like a disco. But instead of dancing, we half-slept on each other and chatted as the shock-less van bounced the two hours to our unknown destination.
"Oh, you might get muddy." That was a side note our Thai friend told us as we got out of the van to the traditional Thai-style resort next to what looked like a lake.
Clad in orange as a construction cone, and bright green as 80's running shorts life vests, we split up into two long Native American-style wooden canoe boats with motors, and a hand-made flat plastic red roof covering us.
Thus began the adventure, not at the beach, but in a mangrove forest. We rode through the water neighborhood of the fishermen surrounding the forest, gazing at fences which were sticks stuck in the mud, with only about a foot of the stick poking out of the water to gently remind the other fishermen where their "land" began and ended. The river houses, instead of having two cars sitting in their driveway had two or three boats which looked similar to ours stacked up under their houses.
We jetted through the muddy, gray water to pull up next to a fisherman at work. His 4-year old son sat in the middle of the boat with him, separating shrimp, still squirming around in their net, that had been dumped in front of him. He barely glanced at us, keeping his eyes on his work, picking out the good shrimp with nimble fingers that will touch more fish and sea creatures in his lifetime than the keys on a computer or the buttons on a cell phone.
After waving farewell to pro-fisher boy, we were steered into an inlet and stopped. Of course, we weren't told why we were stopping, Stone-Faced Captain just stopped. We looked at the island next to us and reared back. Monkeys were swinging and mangroves were swaying before us.
"Aww, cute monkeys!" we thought as they played on the trees. But then they started to come down and run across the island to us. One brave soul flung himself off the island and grabbed the edge of the boat like we were his hoped for rescuers, causing me to scream and leap back, rocking the boat. But then the bananas came from Captain which made them scatter as they attacked each other over the small yellow treasures.
We squeezed a little further down the inlet, where we stopped again. Captain, without at word, got out of the boat, stepped onto the island, and suddenly was knee deep in mud. We giggled at how shocking it was to see him so deep in mud, but then he got a plank of wood to put from the boat to the island so we could join him too. Oh boy...
With much snickering, slipping, sucking, and sludging, we stomped through the mud, and were passed mangrove saplings. We weren't told what to do, but were pantomimed to take off the material that covered the roots, jam it into the mud and squish more mud over it until it was firmly in the "ground". After about 10 minutes of tree planting to prevent erosion in the future, we were back in the boat.
As we pondered how deep the water was, we saw that slowly the water was disappearing. Before us was a desert expanse of the mud. Then as we wondered how we would get through the mud in the boat, the boat in front of us flew away through the sludge, spraying an arc of mud behind it. Woohoo!
But instead of making an arc of beautiful mud behind us, we pulled ahead, sputtered, and left nothing. We had stalled.
Thankfully Calm Captain had a cell phone, called the other driver and asked him to stop. We had fun blowing our emergency whistles on our life vests, much to the annoyance of Captain, but much to our delight.
Eventually, instead of having the boat come to us, we went to it. I was first to hop onto a wooden plank surf board which I was pushed on as I waved farewell like Miss America to my friends. Captain pushed me over the mud so smoothly I felt like a snowboarder sliding on snow to the other boat.
After everyone made it, a little more muddy and wet than before, but full of adrenaline from the adventure, we laughed our way to the river house stilted high above the waters where we would eat lunch. We climbed up the smooth and silken wooden rungs of the ladder to our feast.
Sitting on the wooden floor, we ate: fresh shrimp, huge prawns, bass in sweet and sour sauce, squid, Thai omelette, oysters, clams, hummingbird flower, tom yum soup, rice, coconut and sticky rice, and sweet satisfying Thai grapefruit. How delightful.
Then it was time for extreme mud boarding through clam infested mud. But we soon discovered that the smooth ride over the mud, isn't as smooth without an experienced mud boarder pushing you along. We got stuck. Some of our legs disappeared with only our chests sticking out. Some of us just sat in the middle of the mud in awkward positions, trying to stay on our board somehow, laughing and shrieking until we were saved.
Eventually, Im not quite sure how, we all got over to the waters where we used netting to scrub our legs and and arms and hands and feet free from as much goo as we could. Then the boats carried us back to land-- our stomachs now full, our skin now clothed in mud, our legs and arms now covered in scratches from sharp clam shells, our minds full of memories, and my white and pink swim-wear now brown.
Mangroves, mud, and monkeys. When I woke up on Monday morning I never dreamed that's what my day would be made of.
How I love you random Thailand and how I will miss you in busy, scheduled America.
All 14 of us, our two American friends, and the rest newly met Thai friends, piled into a 14 passenger party van. Well, if it was night, instead of at 7:30a.m., I would have pictured it as a party van. There were huge round speakers in the roof, and fluorescent lights ran up and down the interior like a disco. But instead of dancing, we half-slept on each other and chatted as the shock-less van bounced the two hours to our unknown destination.
"Oh, you might get muddy." That was a side note our Thai friend told us as we got out of the van to the traditional Thai-style resort next to what looked like a lake.
Clad in orange as a construction cone, and bright green as 80's running shorts life vests, we split up into two long Native American-style wooden canoe boats with motors, and a hand-made flat plastic red roof covering us.
Thus began the adventure, not at the beach, but in a mangrove forest. We rode through the water neighborhood of the fishermen surrounding the forest, gazing at fences which were sticks stuck in the mud, with only about a foot of the stick poking out of the water to gently remind the other fishermen where their "land" began and ended. The river houses, instead of having two cars sitting in their driveway had two or three boats which looked similar to ours stacked up under their houses.
We jetted through the muddy, gray water to pull up next to a fisherman at work. His 4-year old son sat in the middle of the boat with him, separating shrimp, still squirming around in their net, that had been dumped in front of him. He barely glanced at us, keeping his eyes on his work, picking out the good shrimp with nimble fingers that will touch more fish and sea creatures in his lifetime than the keys on a computer or the buttons on a cell phone.
After waving farewell to pro-fisher boy, we were steered into an inlet and stopped. Of course, we weren't told why we were stopping, Stone-Faced Captain just stopped. We looked at the island next to us and reared back. Monkeys were swinging and mangroves were swaying before us.
"Aww, cute monkeys!" we thought as they played on the trees. But then they started to come down and run across the island to us. One brave soul flung himself off the island and grabbed the edge of the boat like we were his hoped for rescuers, causing me to scream and leap back, rocking the boat. But then the bananas came from Captain which made them scatter as they attacked each other over the small yellow treasures.
We squeezed a little further down the inlet, where we stopped again. Captain, without at word, got out of the boat, stepped onto the island, and suddenly was knee deep in mud. We giggled at how shocking it was to see him so deep in mud, but then he got a plank of wood to put from the boat to the island so we could join him too. Oh boy...
With much snickering, slipping, sucking, and sludging, we stomped through the mud, and were passed mangrove saplings. We weren't told what to do, but were pantomimed to take off the material that covered the roots, jam it into the mud and squish more mud over it until it was firmly in the "ground". After about 10 minutes of tree planting to prevent erosion in the future, we were back in the boat.
As we pondered how deep the water was, we saw that slowly the water was disappearing. Before us was a desert expanse of the mud. Then as we wondered how we would get through the mud in the boat, the boat in front of us flew away through the sludge, spraying an arc of mud behind it. Woohoo!
But instead of making an arc of beautiful mud behind us, we pulled ahead, sputtered, and left nothing. We had stalled.
Thankfully Calm Captain had a cell phone, called the other driver and asked him to stop. We had fun blowing our emergency whistles on our life vests, much to the annoyance of Captain, but much to our delight.
Eventually, instead of having the boat come to us, we went to it. I was first to hop onto a wooden plank surf board which I was pushed on as I waved farewell like Miss America to my friends. Captain pushed me over the mud so smoothly I felt like a snowboarder sliding on snow to the other boat.
After everyone made it, a little more muddy and wet than before, but full of adrenaline from the adventure, we laughed our way to the river house stilted high above the waters where we would eat lunch. We climbed up the smooth and silken wooden rungs of the ladder to our feast.
Sitting on the wooden floor, we ate: fresh shrimp, huge prawns, bass in sweet and sour sauce, squid, Thai omelette, oysters, clams, hummingbird flower, tom yum soup, rice, coconut and sticky rice, and sweet satisfying Thai grapefruit. How delightful.
Then it was time for extreme mud boarding through clam infested mud. But we soon discovered that the smooth ride over the mud, isn't as smooth without an experienced mud boarder pushing you along. We got stuck. Some of our legs disappeared with only our chests sticking out. Some of us just sat in the middle of the mud in awkward positions, trying to stay on our board somehow, laughing and shrieking until we were saved.
Eventually, Im not quite sure how, we all got over to the waters where we used netting to scrub our legs and and arms and hands and feet free from as much goo as we could. Then the boats carried us back to land-- our stomachs now full, our skin now clothed in mud, our legs and arms now covered in scratches from sharp clam shells, our minds full of memories, and my white and pink swim-wear now brown.
Mangroves, mud, and monkeys. When I woke up on Monday morning I never dreamed that's what my day would be made of.
How I love you random Thailand and how I will miss you in busy, scheduled America.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Oasis in the Desert
My desert began a two weeks ago when i was hurt by a dear friend and experienced pain I had never been through before. But I have come to discover from it, that in a desert of confusion, pain, and longing, true friends are the oases that bring refreshment, perseverance and hope.
One oasis was when I couldn't stop crying at Gloria Jeans coffee-shop and after a frantic txt to my husband, the words he replied with calmed me like a mother's gentle embrace soothes a child's violent tears.
Then a friend arrived, just seeing her smiling eyes, peaceful presence, and flowery, flowy skirt helped me feel like life wasn't over. I poured out my anguish to her and what restored me to my old positive self for the time being, was more than anything her listening ear that made me feel that she was in this with me: I wasn't alone.
Or when i went to lunch in the middle of the work-day and I just had to cry and my friend held my shoulders as I walked through the maze of food vendors unaware of what caused my pain, only seeing the effects of it drip down my reddened face.
Then a relaxing dessert place where on cozy couches my friends counseled me as we ate a chocolate lave cake, every bite scooped into my mouth with the golden spoon awakened my sleeping serotonin. As I sipped my lychee mint drink, I was even able to laugh at how crazy life can be.
Emails, and chats with friends from home full of love and lines from years long ago, reminded me that I have friendships built on solid foundations, awaiting for me when I return back to the States.
Talking with my parents over skype, thinking about memories of home, and hearing their sweet voices and words of loving advice, I couldn't handle how blessed I am, even in the midst of my hurt.
I hope I can be the ice-cold refreshing water for someone wandering in the hot, bleak emptiness of the pain of life, since now I know how sweet to the soul it is.
One oasis was when I couldn't stop crying at Gloria Jeans coffee-shop and after a frantic txt to my husband, the words he replied with calmed me like a mother's gentle embrace soothes a child's violent tears.
Then a friend arrived, just seeing her smiling eyes, peaceful presence, and flowery, flowy skirt helped me feel like life wasn't over. I poured out my anguish to her and what restored me to my old positive self for the time being, was more than anything her listening ear that made me feel that she was in this with me: I wasn't alone.
Or when i went to lunch in the middle of the work-day and I just had to cry and my friend held my shoulders as I walked through the maze of food vendors unaware of what caused my pain, only seeing the effects of it drip down my reddened face.
Then a relaxing dessert place where on cozy couches my friends counseled me as we ate a chocolate lave cake, every bite scooped into my mouth with the golden spoon awakened my sleeping serotonin. As I sipped my lychee mint drink, I was even able to laugh at how crazy life can be.
Emails, and chats with friends from home full of love and lines from years long ago, reminded me that I have friendships built on solid foundations, awaiting for me when I return back to the States.
Talking with my parents over skype, thinking about memories of home, and hearing their sweet voices and words of loving advice, I couldn't handle how blessed I am, even in the midst of my hurt.
I hope I can be the ice-cold refreshing water for someone wandering in the hot, bleak emptiness of the pain of life, since now I know how sweet to the soul it is.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Warning
Last night some of my friends and I, all American ex-pats living in Thailand, were discussing over greasy Thai food, how we are losing our English.
Everyday we speak to Thais who yearn with all their hearts to know English, yet since they don't get much practice, most still linger at elementary levels. So in order to get our points across we simplify.
We now analyze in our heads the words we are about to say before we say them to make sure the vocabulary isn't too difficult. We never say idioms anymore. We talk in a slower, clearer tone of voice without thinking twice about it.
One girl told a story how she and an American friend were walking by a fish and tackle store. She peered in the large glass display window and said to her friend, "Look! Fishing sticks!"
"You mean, fishing "poles"?"
One of my friends from home told me that when she talked to me on the phone last, it sounded like I ended my sentences in a weird-anime-character-like-way. I thought, "Oh boy, my English is becoming Thinglish!" since Thais, when they attempt to speak English, stretch out the end of their sentences.
For example, if I ever told my motorcycle man to take me to "Asoke Tower", he would stare at me blankly. But if I said, "Asoke Toweeerrrrr" he would take me there without hesitation.
Even when I email I will write an idiom, delete it, but then remember that my friend is fluent in English! And then pack the email with all the idioms my fingers have been holding inside for the past months.
So this is just a warning for when I come home. If I have trouble using advanced vocabulary, pronouncing words correctly, and understanding slang, it's only the Thailand effect. I will be ok soon, please be patient.
Everyday we speak to Thais who yearn with all their hearts to know English, yet since they don't get much practice, most still linger at elementary levels. So in order to get our points across we simplify.
We now analyze in our heads the words we are about to say before we say them to make sure the vocabulary isn't too difficult. We never say idioms anymore. We talk in a slower, clearer tone of voice without thinking twice about it.
One girl told a story how she and an American friend were walking by a fish and tackle store. She peered in the large glass display window and said to her friend, "Look! Fishing sticks!"
"You mean, fishing "poles"?"
One of my friends from home told me that when she talked to me on the phone last, it sounded like I ended my sentences in a weird-anime-character-like-way. I thought, "Oh boy, my English is becoming Thinglish!" since Thais, when they attempt to speak English, stretch out the end of their sentences.
For example, if I ever told my motorcycle man to take me to "Asoke Tower", he would stare at me blankly. But if I said, "Asoke Toweeerrrrr" he would take me there without hesitation.
Even when I email I will write an idiom, delete it, but then remember that my friend is fluent in English! And then pack the email with all the idioms my fingers have been holding inside for the past months.
So this is just a warning for when I come home. If I have trouble using advanced vocabulary, pronouncing words correctly, and understanding slang, it's only the Thailand effect. I will be ok soon, please be patient.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Kitung Na
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
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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