For several days now I have felt at a loss for what to write in this space. I want to tell you about all kinds of things - Thai lessons, my khanom problem, celebrating the 4th of July, dancing, succumbing to mosquitos - but somehow all of my experiences feel small and insignificant compared to the turmoil that is engulfing my home country. I feel anguish and outrage, fear and despair, but most of all paralyzed in a way that speaks to my very real privilege. I am ashamed that my voice has not been louder. I want to be a meaningful, active ally to those already fighting, to those whose lives have been senselessly lost, to those who should not have to still be decrying the systematic racism blatantly raging in the USA. I want to do whatever I can to move our fractured and bleeding nation into a space of equity, peace, and understanding. I want to do better because I must.
"Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth."
-Nathaniel Hawthorne, writer (4 Jul 1804-1864)
My small, fledgling roots in this unaccustomed earth are only just beginning to take hold. I am taking Thai lessons with the lovely Kru (teacher) Brood. We have covered basic sounds (good lord, the tones!), easy verbs, and introductory conversation. I am happy to report that I hailed a taxi and gave successful directions in Thai last week! It truly is the little things that count.
Pay Sukhumvit Soi hok-sip-et, ka - To Sukhumvit Road 61, please!
Jot tini, ka - Stop here, please!
I returned to dance after a four year hiatus and it was both glorious and painful. Glorious to be moving again and to resurrect my nearly two decades of training. Painful because I am unbelievably inflexible and creaky, but I expected to be hurting so I had ibuprofen at the ready. I decided to take a Contemporary class instead of returning to ballet and I don't think I'll regret it. My beautiful French instructor Patrice might have something to do with it, but I also love the freedom in the movement, though my rigid ballet brain can't quite let it all go just yet.
The 4th of July brought unexpected melancholy. The Americana images all over social media made me homesick for Pacific Northwest beaches, Walla Walla sunsets, oozing cherry pies, and watching fireworks on a crowded east coast lawn with my dad. I fought wistful longing by planning a potluck at work, or rather, forcing a potluck upon my coworkers. I was mildly panicked that no one would show up, but everyone made an appearance and brought a wild variety of goodies. Our feast included: Australian beef burgers, grilled corn, dragonfruit and pineapple salad, tomatoes and quail eggs, french pastries, Kraft mac n' cheese, chorizo, my grandfather's guacamole ($14 for 5 avocados...), homemade strawberry panna cotta, and g&ts with the freshest of Thai limes. We even played frisbee in the backyard until the mosquitos got us.
I won't say that the highs have been without their lows, but Tiger Balm is soothing my TWENTY mosquito bites and I thoroughly enjoyed teaching my first-ever class today. I am feeling better about this colossal replanting I have undertaken.
Oh, as for my khanom (dessert) problem - I seriously underestimated the outrageous availability of all things sugar in Thailand. My sweet tooth might do me in before the heat and bug bites!
