or a food-order failure, to the miserable lows of anger, frustration, and irrational nostalgia for the now-mythological ease and comfort of life "in the States."
Since Thailand is my third foreign country of residence, I fancied myself, while not immune to this nasty bug, at least reasonably hardened to it. I've already lived with nightmarish tropical insects in Argentina, eaten Spain's often unappetizing food, endured ridiculous heat in both places, and learned to put up with the total loss of anonymity that comes with being an obvious outsider.
This was of course, a rather stupid line of reasoning, as Argentine culture is based on Spanish culture, which is based on Rome, on which my own culture is largely based. It's all just Western. Thailand is not.
It's been a rough landing. Our house, while totally acceptable and lent to us rent-free by our school, is a step down from our lovely Spanish flat. The food has been a puzzle, I can't effectively communicate with anyone, and Surat itself is a big, dirty, chaotic town with little of Zafra's beauty or charm.
Luckily, our little motorbike is fast, and only seventy kilometers from Surat's grey edges lies Khanom, which in the last few weeks has become a much-needed refuge of peace and beauty. It's the Thailand you've seen in tourism ads and on posters in restaurants, a curved, white beach dotted with impossibly tall palm trees, tiki bars, and hardly a soul in sight. At night, the tiny organisms that float out their lives in the surf light up in response to movement, leaving a trail of stars behind your fingers. Beers are a dollar at a reggae-themed bar on the shore where a tattooed fire dancer offers a free square of sand to pitch our tent, and a short walk up the beach there's a place that sells expensive but almost accurate American food. Just knowing Khanom is there alleviates the aggravations of Surat. When Monday comes and I'm back at work, I feel recharged and able to enjoy those hundreds of tiny faces screaming "Hello Teeeachaaa Saweee."
Luckily, our little motorbike is fast, and only seventy kilometers from Surat's grey edges lies Khanom, which in the last few weeks has become a much-needed refuge of peace and beauty. It's the Thailand you've seen in tourism ads and on posters in restaurants, a curved, white beach dotted with impossibly tall palm trees, tiki bars, and hardly a soul in sight. At night, the tiny organisms that float out their lives in the surf light up in response to movement, leaving a trail of stars behind your fingers. Beers are a dollar at a reggae-themed bar on the shore where a tattooed fire dancer offers a free square of sand to pitch our tent, and a short walk up the beach there's a place that sells expensive but almost accurate American food. Just knowing Khanom is there alleviates the aggravations of Surat. When Monday comes and I'm back at work, I feel recharged and able to enjoy those hundreds of tiny faces screaming "Hello Teeeachaaa Saweee."
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| Levi at Ao Tong Yee--The End of the Road Beach |
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| The aptly named "Reggae Bar." |
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| Our ride to paradise |
The $1 beach beer sounds great. But we miss Spain :(
ReplyDeleteLove you. Dad