Adapting is Messy

My stomach was churning all day. Arsenio, the other english teacher and I had been eating food from markets, restaurants and venders for the past few days with Bee- our friend, fellow Thai teacher and the only Thai person I know who speaks english.

My stomach was finally having a say in the matter...

I needed to eat desperately. I was caught between the feeling of starving and no appetite...? The last time I ate was lunch time and it was 8pm. Both Arsenio and I needed something substantial other than food we could not recognize or put a name too.

FRUIT is what we were after. Your basic shoppers-food-warehouse apples and bananas.

We hopped on the motor cyc and zipped down the main road. You can tell when someone is getting more comfortable driving a motor bike while riding on the back of it. you just can. the combination of their speed, turning, merging, braking, space between other vehicles and flow of timing of motions are happening naturally. All the person can do on the back of the seat is... trust.

What is the rush to get to Tesco? american drivers. dudes and speed. i roll my eyes.

Welp, we were rushing for no reason only to find ourselves broken down at the intersection RIGHT around the corner of Tesco- where dreams come true for sick puppies (speaking for myself) who just need basic FRUIT.

Arsenio and I wobble the motor cycle over three lanes and lifted it up on the side walk. We have a full tank of gas...?

ah, the ignition blew. He tries to start it. I try to start it. nothing is working.

I spotted another foreigner (they are far and few). I asked him where we could find the nearest auto shop. The guy was trying to help but his advice wasn't helping. I was doing all the talking, Arsenio was doing the walking. By this time Arsenio took matters into his own hands and was rolling the bike towards Tesco.

I caught up to him. judging his every move and decision. "just leave the bike on the road and push it" "why are you doing that Arsenio?" "ughh"  complaint after complaint coming from me. my stomach. every smell made me want to vomit.
car and motor cycle fumes, i wanted to vomit,
fire pits burning trash to my left, i wanted to vomit,
as we were pushing the motor cyc i spotted a cock roach on the street.
i was in an internal hell.

We got to Tesco, parked the bike and went in to debrief and get what we needed.

I walk in and the instant mixtures of smells from the food court were about to trigger a spew. I did the olympic sport, the fast speed walk, straight to the family bathroom. Of course, nothing happened. I hated my stomach for playing mind games with me.

"come on, get it over with."

I was miserable. I grabbed a cart to lean on while I aimlessly searched for fruit and water. Like I said, any strong smell was pushing me over the edge. The smells were unavoidable. To my right I passed by fish, their eyes staring back, holding my mouth and nose. wide-eyed. I walked through the soap aisle to get to the cashier and cringed at the potent floral scents that I usually inhale with delight. I thought to myself, I TOTALLY can empathize with my step dad's sensitivity to smell.  Arsenio and I met up and went to the counter to check out.

Arsenio picked up on the fact that I did not look good or feel well. "You'll be aiiight" he said in his emphasized black slang.

"My mama always told me, 'your missing a leg..... you'll be aiiight"

His black demeanor took the edge off of me, long enough to get my mind off my stomach.

"You're dead?.... you gonna be aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight"

At this point I am hurling over the shopping cart laughing at his impersonation of his Mom. I didn't realize it, but a laugh was the cure and a moment of distraction in the midst of stomach pains.

And then, it gets even better [insert thai-english language barrier here]

We accidentally hold up the line because we forgot to weigh our bagged fruits first, before checking out. both of us had to go back and weigh our bags one at a time. it felt like we  were holding up the line for.ev.er. once again, moody, pissed off, impatient, serious, self-conscious aggressive, helpless and on top of that, just physically ill.

The thai people in Chantaburi are so understanding, patient and willing to help. I'm trying to read their body language in order to understand or interpret the silence. I get easily frustrated with myself when I cannot explicitly understand.

To our advantage, with bags and water some how loaded on the motor cyc and helmets on, the bike starts! we head back home.

I think Arsenio had a fear of it breaking down again so we were speeding even faster on the way home.... YAY FOR MALE ROAD RAGE... maybe I misunderstood Arsenio's motivation for speed.

Like Keanu Reeves in Speed, if we stop or slow down our motor cyc is going to BLOWWWW! Or break down again.

"Arsenio, there is no need to rush. Take your time. What is the rush?!" I shout through the wind.

"I don't know why these people are so slow."

"Arsenio, they aren't slow you are going fast."

My comments didn't matter. They evaporated into the night sky.

Talk about a true language barrier..... there are some battles we have to let go with the opposite sex.

Once we arrived home, I was so hungry for food. I devoured an apple only to surrender to my stomach's decision to purge stuff from days ago.

It gets better.

Low and behold I realize I spewed in the sink that doesn't drain properly....

I'll leave the epilogue up to your vast imagination. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One in Thailand experiences a new level of unfiltered intimacy with oneself from the inside...... out.

Adapting is messy but I am content and right where I need to be.































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