The Silk Tape Road: Thai edition *graphic.

This picture of my arm is gross.  I know it.  It looks like I have kidney failure and am suffering from severe edema and third spacing.  This is what my heat rash looked like while I was in Thailand last July.  It was bad.  It erupted one night after I indulged in an hour massage and suffered a subsequent fever.  It was so bad I could hardly sit still.  I had heavenly visions of scraping my skin off with a grapefruit spoon.  The reason why I am subjecting my blog to this horrendous graphic is because it helps me tell the story of my run in with the Thai healthcare system, the silk tape road along the silk road, if you will.  

After two days of this, I admitted defeat and proclaimed that I was in need of intervention.  The antihistamines alone were not effective.  I needed steroids.  After a desperate failed attempt to call a friend in the States (thanks a LOT, dr jim) I was directed to our house mom, Pi Dang who tsked her tongue and told me, "you need doctor-skin."  My mind quickly panicked.  The one time I had ever seen a dermatologist I had to wait weeks and reschedule three times before I was seen for fifteen minutes.  I could not bear this.  Luckily, Pi Dang could not hear my inner whimpering and promptly guided me over a street from our guest house to the local "Doctor-skin".

I wish I had a picture of the inside of that office.  What I can offer you is this description:  it looked like the DMV.  Rows of bucket seats packed with people, all waiting for one purpose.  I sheepishly followed Pi Dang as she made negotiations in Thai for me to be seen.  I could feel the glares as people noticed and were horrified by the condition of my skin.  Had it been biblical times, a cloak and proclamation of "unclean! unclean!" would have been appropriate.  At first, the nurse at the reception desk said that the doctor would see me in three hours.  What a relief!  Three measly hours?!  No big deal.  Apparently, however, Pi Dang saw this situation as being more dire.  She waltzed right back up and engaged in some seemingly friendly dialogue, which miraculously ended with my wait time being cut to thirty minutes.  I fervently stammered a prayer to God, asking Him to bless Pi Dang like He has blessed no other.  

After waiting awkwardly in the "dmv" and ignoring the children who pointed and made disgusted faces, I was shown in to the doctor's office.  The cutest gray haired Thai man ever waited for me, with his UV light on.  He intently studied my every extremity twice, before peering over his rimless glasses and declaring: "this is very bad."  I had to laugh, while wondering the cultural ramifications of a foreigner threatening his life if he didn't give me some steroids.  Luckily, this wasn't necessary.  The dear, Harvard educated man wrote me prescriptions for everything I could ever hope for.  

I was then ushered to the front desk, where the nurses of this office filled my prescriptions and explained my medications to me.  I was handed four little plastic baggies with exactly enough pills, and two creams.  As she was tallying up my total, the nurse looked at me apologetically as she told me my due for the six prescriptions and my office visit: 820 baht (read, 27 bucks).  She perked up however, when she told me that upon knowing my ethnic background, she charged me the lower, Thai price.  "Chinese close enough," she shrugged.  I could have leapt over the counter and kissed her.  

Imagine, if you will, what this fiasco would have been like if I were in the States.  Should we even start?!  Nah, let's just grin and appreciate how much better they do it over there.  Obama, take note!

Available by Catalog?

I was struck by this while in the Gap in Houston last weekend.  are we selling jeans here, or the men?   

The product description reads:

Homo sapien male.  likely hunter/gatherer.  tendency towards violent video games and toilet humor.  available in easy (no tequila required), loose (not even beer required), boot (cowboy edition), straight (gay available by special order), standard (basic potty trained only), and authentic (meaning warm body with a pulse).  

additional training required for functional relations. 

requires many meals, laundry services preferred.

batteries not included.  

(500) is not enough.

Did you love it? I loved it. She's enchanting, and everything I want to be. He's a dork, but has now been added to the quirky nerds that I love list. A realistic and fresh take on modern courtship. j'adore.

ok...i've been asked to elaborate.

My Top Ten Ingredients to make a Great Movie

1. the unassumingly adorable awkward leading man.

2. an ever evolving setting (ie. NOT Castaway)

3. a story told in flashbacks, the badder the hair, the better.

4. really great wardrobe including, but not limited to, a man who can wear a casual tie with sneakers.

5. grumpy old men. this is not limited to Walter Mathau. any grumpy senior will do.

6. a rousing dance number.... ala Fame.

7. the inappropriate but ever so insightful best friends...ala Ducky of Pretty in Pink.

8. when things don't go the way you want them to.

9. integration of live action and animation.... ala Mary Poppins.

10. A phenomenal soundtrack. The one for (500) is now up there with Forrest Gump, Garden State, and Remember the Titans.

happy watching. love love love.

Perspective.

This is the jungle gym us Thailand trippers chipped in for while we were there.   Phew, they're still cute.  Bad attitude aborted. 

Ramblin Woman.

Are you there, God?  It's me, Mingni.

It seems like I tend to have a mild identity crisis every time I go home.  I get so excited at the anticipation of seeing all of these people that I like, having tea at Madeleine's, macaroni at the Elk, and a drink at Zola, having Mark cut my hair, playing in Liberty Lake, and doing all of the other things that encompassed my upbringing.  So I go, do all of those fabulous things, and then comes the rain.  Usually an entire day I spend traveling to wherever it is I am going is tainted by this lingering knot in my stomach.  Do I hate Spokane?  Why is it that I really keep leaving?  Is it really disdain for this place?  Doubt it.  Certainly isn't the people, for I can think of no other place where I possess such a concentration of humans I like.  Plus, I now have a snuggly goddaughter to love and not miss out on at all times.  If this all fell apart tomorrow, you bet your ass I would be lugging my tambourine to Kirsten's house on the North Side to hibernate for the winter.  

This weird psycho phenomenon had never been so potent as it was this last journey.  I had just come off of an enchanting trip to Thailand, spent two glorious weeks on the water with friends and family, and celebrated everlasting love at Rach's wedding.  In hindsight, I could be anywhere right now and probably feeling let down.  I'm bummed out.... and I don't wear that well.  I'm annoyed that I didn't have time to do all the things I wanted and see everyone I like.  I'm jealous of the breezy nighttime weather up there.  I've started to loathe Mexican food. I have to actively remind myself that I would be feeling differently had I chosen to take a new assignment in a new place, rather than returning for another three month stint here.  To be fair, I got over my relocation remorse in about four hours when I ran off to NYC and PHX.  However, I cannot help but admit to the fact that the thrill in McAllen is gone.  One of my favorite aspects of travel nursing thus far has been the thrill of figuring out a new place.  Scouting out the grocery stores, weaving through the highway system, finding places to hike, scouring for a local concert.  Meh, I've done all of those things here.  I'm over it.  I need a life coach to follow me around and constantly spit affirmations of perspective in my face, like:

"It's only three months"

"This job is ideal"

"There are people without jobs at all"

"You ARE close to the beach"

......."GET OVER YOURSELF, PRINCESS."

Am I really so habitat-ADD  that I'm over a new place after a mere two months?!  Doctor, doctor,  gimme the news.... I got a bad case of ants in my pants.  

I promise, I do love this life.  Nothing exhilarates me more than new faces and places, and I'll probably be over this in like, half an hour.  I just should have known better than to think I'm mature enough to stay still for a minute.  

Note to self:  subpar levels of assignment enthusiasm conjure remorse over leaving home. Yikes. I'm pathetic. 

URGENT.

Go get this book.  Lock yourself in a corner of your choosing, and devour it.  My lovely Mrs Byrd (see below!) included this read in my bridesmaid gift.  I carried it around all day on Monday through my travels before opening it in Houston (at the Bushport, as I like to call it) to just skim the first page.  I ended up swallowing it whole in two hours.  In fact, so moved was I that the lady next to me had to ask what I was reading, because she couldn't ignore the tears streaming down my face.  Pathetic, I know!  Don't even call me to ask me to mail you my copy.  You can't have it.  I need to have mine so that I can reread, highlight, and memorize certain lines.  I want you to experience it as I did, with no expectations, so I won't tell you much about it.  But I will tell you this: if more people lived and thought like this man, our lives would rock so much harder.  

She's Like a Byrd

Last weekend, one of my best friends Rachael got married to Andy Byrd in Chelan, WA.  For those of you who don't know, Rach is one of my favorite friends, and definitely one of the inner circle.  Eek.  Adulthood is creeping in on me!  I was pretty thrilled to get to play bridesmaid and have VIP access to this event.  It was a superfun weekend filled with water, small town dive bars, and quirky family dynamics.  Although I did not give a toast at the reception, I totally think I should have.  I might have said this:

 "With Rachael and I, it was definitely love at first sight.  We were sophomores at GU and living across the hall from each other.  We had both gone to small private high schools, we both liked to have dance parties in the dorm, and we both think racial jokes are funny.  She likes to act asian, I pretty much act white.  But more than these similarities, we also shared a similar outlook on love and relationships.  We were young, charismatic independent women, damn it.  While the idea of twitterpation and dinner-for-two is appealing, we were just as happy being single and free.  .....but then they came.  The boys in Rachael's life took over and I teased her incessantly about how she had gone soft.  I might have even used the word 'pathetic'.  Then she found Andy and declared him the One..... and I had a seizure.  But the truth of the matter is this: as much as I might roll my eyes and gag at their goofy love, if I could find a love so giving and committed..... well, I guess that would be okay."

Congratulations Rachael and Andy! 

Byrd wedding pictures

Top ten in Pictures.

Thrilled as Siam.

.... to find a place in the world that is everything I love about China, and few of the things I abhor, I'm having a hard time expressing it.  To sum things up, three weeks was not enough.  As I leaf through my journal, there are literally twelve blogicles that can be formed using just the first week.  Thus I admit overwhelmedness and give you my Top Ten of Thailand.  As I reminisce and give myself time to really write, I will give details, quips, narrative, and incidents ad nauseum.  Look forward to stories about the girls at BHJ and perhaps even a run in with the Thai health care system.  Promise.  For now, behold:

10)  Gorgeous.  The majority of the Thailand is lush, green tropics.  We took a night train to and from Chiang Mai, where BHJ is, and my favorite part of the journey was getting to see the landscape of the Thai countryside.  Furthermore, our four days at the beach in Koh Chang couldn't have even been wrecked by the torrential downpour happening the entire time.  The beaches, mountains, wildlife, and water will take your breath away. 

9) the monks.  They are SO CUTE.  It is customary in Thailand for people to never look directly at them, and to always keep our head below theirs.  In Chiang Mai, across the street from our guest house, the monks would walk through the market early in the morning on their way to the temple.  I wanted to hug one.  Uncle Steve said no.  Dang it. 

8) Sustenance.  Man cannot live on bread alone.  I get it, but I also take it literally.  Eating good food is one of my favorite parts of being human.  Thailand was only too accommodating.  The food I ate off of a cart on the street was better than any takeout I had ever purchased on this side of the Pacific.  There were so many things to eat, you could easily suffer from stimulation overload while walking through the markets.  Uncle Steve and I were pretty brave food adventurers, making a point to never miss out on weird food opportunities.  We weren't ever sorry.  The kids and I even effectively applied for Thai citizenship by daring to sample the exoskeletonous snacks (read: deep fried bugs).  Side note: lots of weird and delicious tropical fruit to be had there.  one of my favorites was salak palm fruit, which tastes like tropical starburst (i know, ew right?).  a major bonus was that I didn't know what it was called, and my agriculture extraordinaire dad didn't know either.  he had previously never been stumped.  booyah.

7) Rotee.  this is technically a food, but requires its own distinction nonetheless.  Rotee is ala fried crepe, but so much better.  They fill them with whatever you want, fry it to a golden brown, and then cover it with chocolate sauce and condensed milk.  The first time I saw it made (on a cart streetside, mind you) I was mortified to see the lady bathing it in hot oil before serving it to me.  As soon as it hit my mouth, all such moments forgotten.  I joked that I couldn't go to sleep in Thailand without one, but lived like the joke was real.  I'm salivating as I type this.  Drool on the N key.  

6) Transportation.  People are so much better at getting around everywhere outside of the US.  In Thailand, the majority of average citizens travel by motorbike or song tow.  A song tow is a taxi, of sorts.  Basically a pickup truck with a canopy and benches lining the truckbed.  No meters, you just tell the driver where you want to go, bat your eyelashes a bit, and barter for the price.  The more people you have, the cheaper it will be.  It was so pleasant to travel this way, we just all piled in like clowns at the circus and that was that.  While in Chiang Mai, we hired a driver, SuBin, to chauffeur us out to BHJ every morning and bring us back.  Not only did it cost us about 2.50 us dollars a day yo do this, but he was a superhero.  We all became quite fond of SuBin, and depended on him to keep track of us....maybe pull a gadget or two out of his rig.  

5) Eh-yaphants.  That's what Maya calls them.  She's 2.  Elephants have been my favorite for a long time, ever since I cried my way through Dumbo as a preschooler.  Thailand is known for its indigenous elephant population, and I was able to buy elephant paraphernalia of all kinds.  More significant, while on Koh Chang, we visited them at an elephant reserve camp.  These Thai people live in this camp, take care of the elephants, and lead tourists through the jungle while atop Babar.  Not only did  I sit in a magical basket and ride an elephant, but we were able to feed them and get in the river to bathe them.  I could just squeal thinking about how fun it was and how cute they were.  They're smart, and cheeky creatures to boot.  They get each other riled up and think it's funny to spray water all over the farangs (white people).  I think it's funny too.  

4)  Not a Baht.  Thailand is ideal for the economical adventurer.  To paint a picture, I spent three weeks traveling on trains, eating, buying things, staying in guest houses, and having interactive activities in a foreign country.  I spent less than 700 dollars.  Just can't go wrong. With the exchange rate being about 34 Baht to one dollar, dinners in Chiang Mai cost me about $1.36.  How could I leave, you ask?  Very hesitantly.  

3) GDH.  This last winter, I read a book called the Geography of Bliss.  In short, a grumpy man visits all of the most allegedly happy countries in the world and try to figure out why they are so.  Thailand is included, and notably practices GrossDomesticHappiness.  It shows.  The people of that little nation are just so darn great.  You know how annoyed we are at the tourists in all of our major cities that clog up our transportation systems, yell in indistinguishable languages, and wear horribly offensive clothing?  Thais are more mature than that.  We dumbass Americans were welcomed everywhere we went.  No matter where we were, we got help from the locals before we could even sheepishly ask for it.  Our housemom, PiDang, probably saved me from a horrible fiery death (more on that later...).  Our driver, SuBin, could be found on numerous occasions pushing BHJ girls on the swing, making ballon animals, holding yarn to be braided, hammering the swingset, or generally being a superhero.  Look for him at night, flighting crime and wearing a cape.  

2) Those girls.  Of course, the girls at BHJ were just it.  I wish there were words that would help my family and friends understand, but to know them is truly to love.  They were just delightful.  It's quite unfathomable to tell you how simply they live their lives, and even more still to tell you about their joy.  They find joy in everything we barely recognize.  Please, please, if you ever remember while standing in front of me, ask me about them.  Watch my face light up.  

1) Still about me.  Prepare the cheeseball.  My favorite part of my Thailand trip is me.  I feel different, energized, and anew.  I feel badass and softened all at once.  I feel appreciative and socially annoyed.  I feel educated and bewildered by my naivete.  All of these are productive. 

Kap Kun Kaa for reading.  More to come.

Love Love Love. 

Picture Album on Facebook

Finally Foster

I know, I suck.  Truth be told, I am completely overwhelmed by the idea of having to put my thoughts of the past month down.  Where do I begin?  The few days before I left on my trip, Noah and Jan got hitched.  This was no ordinary nuptial ceremony.  Jan and Noah are pretty much legendary among couples everywhere.  They are about a 72 on a 0-10 fun scale.  The day that I first met Janae, I myself, fell in love.  So far goes my love affair that every time I am introduced to a loved one's significant other, I gauge my enthusiasm for this person by that of the day I met Janae.  It was, hands down, the most fun wedding I have ever attended.  MJ died at the perfect time, so as to rekindle our passions at this reception.  There are pictures of me at the reception that are so embarassing and so funny.  Perhaps the greatest testimony to the raucous affair was that at 1am, we had to kick Janae's Gpa off of the dance floor.  He wasn't really having it.  Thanks Fosters, for throwing the social event of the decade.  The rest of my pictures can be found here.