Week 1

 
Today marks the beginning of my second week in Thailand. That’s hard to believe! So far I’ve been to many of the places that Brittany goes in her day-to-day life including the local markets (probably two acres of tables full of every food imaginable), the mall (way nicer than the malls I’ve been to in the US), random restaurants, church, and the grocery store. 

Last Friday I finally worked up the courage to venture out by myself, point A being Brittany’s apartment, and point B being the YWAM base. I gave myself a pep talk, reviewed all of Brittany’s careful instructions, and headed out. I walked about a quarter mile down to a busy intersection where I could catch a song-touw (I think? It’s a basic pick-up truck with benches in the bed). I missed the first one that passed, failing to recognize it until it was already by. I was ready for the second one though. I caught the attention of the driver by waving my hand discreetly by my side, and swung myself up on the back as it slowed. The bed was full of school kids, thrilled to have a farong (foreigner) ride with them. One girl poked her head out of the crowd to say “Hello”. I responded with “Swadika” (one of the two phrases I knew how to say in Thai). That set them all off, chattering about the farong and her funny accent (I assume that’s what they were talking about). The ride was fun, and we managed to communicate a little bit more before I got off and paid the driver. I crossed the street (worth mentioning only because it pretty much means taking your life into your hands), bought an iced coffee (also worth mentioning only because it was my first time buying anything by myself), crossed the street again, and walked to the base. The whole endeavor probably took about 40 minutes, but by the time I got there, I was pretty much done with adventure for the day :)

The weekend passed quietly, with a small dinner party Friday night, going to a movie at the mall Saturday night, lounging by the pool, going to church and grocery shopping Sunday. I’m finding that my tolerance level for new things (which is pretty much everything) is limited. I love exploring and experiencing this culture, but I find myself overwhelmed after a few hours. It’s been quite a blow to my pride. To someone who considers herself adventurous and tough, admitting limits, especially where she thought she had none, is rough. But that’s a topic for a different entry. For now I’ll sign off with this, something I read this week.


GK Chesterton, "Manalive".

“We shall have gone deeper than the deeps of heaven and grown older than the oldest angels before we feel, even in its first faint vibrations, the everlasting violence of that double passion with which God hates and loves the world”.