The NEW SITE!

It’s at http://www.happythatyoudonthavekids.com/

The jury is still out on how I program that automatic forwarding thingie, so, for now, this is how I’m telling you! So very high-tech of me.

Please set your bookmarks to the new site, gracias amigos. -K

Mentally Challenged

I have been designing a new blog site this week for you, dear readers, (yes, the font is bigger, your optometrist will be so pleased) and I wont lie to you, it has been challenging my acuity and patience. Hopefully I’ll have a lot of bells and whistles for you soon. In the meantime, have a video. Have you ever seen how many parents post videos of their babies eating something sour on You Tube? This is the beginning of their very bad parent karma. -K

Just sayin’

Tonight we were watching a Law & Order where a girl in college had been wrongly accused of murder, and the mother said to the attorneys, “Please, do whatever it takes to help her, she’s my only child”. It got me thinking about only children, and I’ve decided that if you are going to have a child, you might as well have two. That way, if one does end up in prison, or falls victim themselves to a Law & Order-type crime, or is just altogether boring and/or hateful, you have a second kid to sink all of your love and affection into.

For the kids’ sakes, they will always have someone else to blame when something goes wrong. They will have someone to play and/or fight with when you’re getting your manicure or lying on your shrink’s couch, discussing how tiresome it is to be a parent.

Two kids = win-win situation. If you’re going to have them at all. -K

P.S. Jerry Orbach (Lenny) is my all-time favorite L&O character. He was in 274 episodes and it’s possible that I’ve seen them all. RIP, Jer.

Bookworming

For the last five years, I had a monkey on my back called a script pile. There was a consistent stack of at least 20 scripts on my bedside table; some given to me by my boss’s agents, some from my boss’s manager, some from people that had contacted me directly in hopes that I would read, fall in love, and pass on to my boss, his agents, and his manager, and the dreaded last category – scripts given to me by friends. That they wrote. Eesh. The odds of liking a script that your friend wrote? In case you’re in suspense: not good.

I am a speed reader; reading has been one of the few constants throughout my life that I’ve always known I can do well. I entered kindergarten as the strongest reader in the class and while I may have graduated high school a seriously strange girl who caused authority figures some understandable worry, I never faltered in English.

This being the case, you’d think that I wouldn’t have been haunted by a stack of unread scripts, that I’d just focus and knock them all out, but I soon learned that the script pile is an evil force that replenishes itself as soon as it’s low. There is no point in trying to reach the bottom of the stack; it’s a sisyphean task. I realized that the only way to handle it was to give every submission about a week to simmer. By then, someone would say something like, “The director of _______ wants to schedule a meeting”, or “_______ will probably call in with an offer today”, or “Have you read _______? I think it’s great”. As soon as a script was mentioned, I knew that one needed to be read that night, but many of them were never mentioned – they were merely space-fillers, time-suckers, wasted dreams – and they could continue to sit unread.

It was quite some time before I realized everything I read was in Final Draft, contained a three-act structure, and was required. I had stopped reading books for pleasure because I had no time. I missed books. And I reunited myself with them, finally, during my travels.

Thanks to my Kindle (no I don’t want to play with your iPad, I’m jealous, go away), I was able to travel light and carry a lot of books at the same time. We really do live in a marvelous generation for technology. It’s just everything else that’s iffy.

Here’s what I read. Have you read something great lately? Please share, I love a book recommendation. Just don’t send me your script.

Notes from the Underwire by Quinn Cummings

I laughed out loud uncontrollably several times while reading this story about a former child actor living a normal life that happens to be hilarious. And I’m a tough audience. Check her blog out here.

Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace With Marriage by Elizabeth Gilbert

I bought this book because I liked Elizabeth’s previous book Eat, Pray, Love. It wasn’t until I began reading that I realized that she and her boyfriend are in Southeast Asia for most of the story. Small world. Ms. Gilbert examines marriage from a historical perspective in an attempt to understand it and accept it for herself, because if she doesn’t marry her foreign boyfriend, he will never be allowed to enter America again. I enjoyed the book and I learned a few things, too.

Buddhism Plain and Simple by Steve Hagen

I found this book some years ago and have read it once a year since then. Even though I know almost every word now like lyrics to a favorite song, I am nowhere near being able to apply the calming philosophies in my everyday life on any sort of consistent basis, hence the re-reading. Every time I do, it feels like I’ve taken a nice, long bath, and washed a lot of bullshit off of me.

At Least In The City Someone Would Hear Me Scream by Wade Rouse

If you don’t have a funny, fabulous gay man in your life, you do now. This is a light-hearted tale of a man who decides to channel Thoreau and forgo his city life for a cabin in the country. Of course, he does crazy gay-man-from-the-city things like fight raccoons with lip gloss and  wear silk scarves to the feed store. Imagine Isaac Mizrahi in the Chevy Chase Funny Farm role.

Notes From My Travels by Angelina Jolie

This book made me want to be a better person. I am very impressed with Ms. Jolie’s thoughts on refugees and more impressed with her actions to help them.

The Scenic Route by Bennie Kirshenbaum

Part love story, part travel adventure. Maybe you’ll relate to it personally, maybe it will just be a nice read.

Wishin’ and Hopin’ by Wally Lamb

If you’re not familiar with Mr. Lamb’s other books, She’s Come Undone and I Know This Much Is True, I would highly recommend them. Wishin’ and Hopin’ was a cute, fast read about a boy named Felix in the fifth grade in the fifties. It didn’t affect me in the way I’ve come to count on Mr. Lamb’s books, so it was a bit of a disappointment.

A Broad Abroad in Thailand by Dodie Cross

Of course I had to read anything I could find about farang in Thailand. This one gave me a lot to laugh about.

Tales of a Female Nomad by Rita Golden Gelman

Chances are, if you’re a female who enjoys travel, you will feel like you’re reading about yourself in some of Ms. Gelman’s chapters. On the flipside, her adventures have required incredible bravery, and I’m not sure I’ve come close to experiencing the courage that it takes to live this life. Working on it! Her website is here.

Bringing Home the Birkin by Michael Tonello

Yes, I was dying to know how this man was able to purchase Birkins by the carfull and re-sell them for a great profit. It made me wish that I was able to do the same thing, but because 1) I don’t live in Europe, 2) I’m pretty sure this is a much harder feat to accomplish today and 3) it seems that it would take a lot of start-up money, I read the book instead. -K

Toilet Paper

Eric and I headed to DC from Thailand to visit with his brother and his family: his wife, their cat, the au pair, and, of course, their two-year-old twin boys. In what seemed like a scripted example of irony, I arrived in their bathroom after spending two months being offered either no or very little toilet paper, looking forward to scooping up a healthy handful of good ole’ American 2-ply, and this weird contraption stopped me in my tracks:

The picture doesn’t do it justice. It’s like jail for toilet paper. There’s a heavy plastic flap that closes over the TP, so you have to lift it in order to get more than a square, which really requires the strength and co-ordination of both of your hands, which is an awkward situation to be in, sitting on a toilet and all. This is designed to keep your children, and your cat, conveniently enough, from unrolling your roll with wild abandon and glee.

I was met by this oddity after having navigated my way past the toilet seat protector itself, which locks the seat in a closed position. Of course, the seat won’t stay open because the lock must do its job of preventing kids from drowning in the toilet and/or making a watery mess of your room, so you have to be sure to unbutton and drop your drawers before you lift the seat, because you can’t lift and do anything post-lift, you must sit down immediately to hold the seat upright with your back.

The day after our arrival, I informed Eric that we could no longer use the bathroom, because when I tried to find a new roll of toilet paper, I was faced with this:

securely fastened around the cabinet handles, preventing me from opening the doors. Of course I tried to unlock it, but these things are designed for the most skilled of children. Or at least, that’s what I told myself when I couldn’t figure it out. And I told Eric that he’d just have to hold his poop; store it up like a bear preparing for the winter. -K

Dad Of The Year

Further disturbing news is that to the right of this video, I see, “Related Links: Drinking Parents Leave Kid In Car, Mom Defends Leaving Her Kids In Car”. -K

Mixed Emotions

Our last week in Thailand was a blur, and I squeezed in a lot of activities while eating everything that I could, out of an unrealistic panic that I’d never have good Thai food again. Ultimately I was just trying to distract myself from the cold, hard fact that we were leaving and we weren’t nearly ready to go.

We visited the Agape Home for Babies, an orphanage for HIV positive kids. I didn’t want to trivialize the day by taking pictures, so I have nothing to show you here, but those kids are well loved, very well cared for, and full of joy. The volunteers and the staff are inspirational people and if you care to learn more, click on the link above.

We zip lined at the Flight of the Gibbon, which is a course of 10 zip lines, 3 straight drops down, and 2 bridges, all in the jungle of Northern Thailand. It was a blast as soon as I got over the initial fear and adrenaline. This one is called “The Honeymoon”, where you can zip with your spouse:

I finally snapped some pics of kids on scooters, as I promised earlier. They’re easy to spot, but hard to photograph. I did it all for you, dear readers. Here are some:

On the day that we left Bangkok, the government declared a state of emergency due to the red shirt protests. I called my parents and assured them that we were leaving, but that I didn’t think there was anything to worry about because I had repeatedly heard that all demonstrations were intended to be non-violent. Unfortunately, by the time we got to the states, 20 people had lost their lives and hundreds had been injured. I can’t  pretend to understand the dynamics of the political unrest, but I do know this: Thailand is a beautiful country cherished by people who come from all over the world. It’s a place of spiritual inspiration and a haven for refugees of neighboring countries who need to escape their vicious governments. The Thais are a unique mix of welcoming yet foreign, familiar yet curious.

I pray that peace will come again soon to the streets of Bangkok, and that I will be able to return someday. -K

The Elephant Nature Park

Sangduen Chailert is called Lek, which is Thai for “Small”. She was raised in a Northern Thai village, and when she was a girl, someone paid her grandfather for his services with an elephant. She grew fond of elephants and developed an understanding of their habits and needs.

Through a series of circumstances involving neighboring villages having sick or needy elephants and calling on Lek for help, she became an angel for elephants. Today she owns and operates the Elephant Nature Park.

Asian elephants  were domesticated to work in the logging industry, and when logging was made illegal in 1989 to preserve the forests, thousands of domesticated elephants who could not survive on their own in the jungle were left unemployed. Many of them died, and today, many of them are still dying due to depression, neglect, and abuse. There are no laws in place to protect domesticated Asian elephants, although if they’re wild, they are protected under the Endangered Species Act.

Elephants are quite a tourist attraction in Thailand. The worst possible situation for an elephant is to be a street beggar. Its owner typically keeps the elephant in inadequate conditions during the day, without enough water to bathe in or food to eat, and at night, he brings it into the city, to walk the streets and do tricks for tourists who pay the elephant owner money. Elephants are terrified of the noises, pollution, and the vibrations of the street send them into a state of shock. They also cause, and are victims of, many car accidents.

In some parts of Thailand, elephants are trained to hold a paintbrush in their trunk and paint pictures for tourists. Others are taught to kick a ball, and many serve as rides for tourists, with a seat strapped to their back. Not all of these elephants are unhappy – some are treated well and have a good home, but frequently, they are abused and beaten if they do not perform properly, and they are not held in the proper conditions that an elephant requires for good mental and physical health. If you are at one of these tourist attractions and see a hook being used, this is not behavior modification, it’s abuse.

Snack time - watermelon!

Lek currently has 32 elephants that have been rescued or purchased from bad conditions. They now live in three different herds on a wide open piece of beautiful land. Their stories are heartbreaking. There’s a female who was forced to work in logging while she was pregnant. Her baby rolled down the hill as she gave birth to it and died. She was upset, but her owners continued to force her to work by shooting at her eyes with slingshots. She was hit in one eye, and when she reacted, her owner stabbed her in her other eye and completely blinded her. Luckily, when she came to the Elephant Nature Park, she befriended another elephant, who is her constant companion and guide.

There are elephants who stepped on landmines and have been permanently injured. One can only walk on three legs. Some came here as drug addicts. Their owners fed them methamphetamines to make them work faster and longer hours. They all receive proper veterinary care here.

Lek’s goal is to release some of the elephants back into the wild when they are ready. Some will always need to be cared for. Elephants have the life span of humans – about eighty years.

Eric bathed this guy in the river.

It’s been an honor to spend time with these amazing animals. They have a gentle spirit, and being with them has been a soothing experience. It felt like taking care of giant, silent babies – food time, bath time, play time, repeat. I applaud Lek and her entire team, and encourage you to come here if you are ever in the Chiang Mai area. -K

Flied Lice

I’m quite obsessed with languages, and I have loved being immersed in Thai. It boggles my mind that English is the worldwide standard language. It feels so odd to watch a conversation between a Thai waitress and a German/Russian/Italian/whatever-the-case-may-be person. They’re both speaking to each other in their second language, so the mistakes and misunderstandings that take place are charming, amusing, and entertaining. Often I want to step in and try to help explain one to the other, and then I think to myself, these people are smart enough to be fluent, even if not perfect, in a second language, who do you think you are? Part of the fun might be in the attempt to come to a mutual understanding.

The last time I was in France, out of curiosity, I bought a French-to-English book, instead of the English-to-French books that I’ve been taught with. It fascinated me to find not only phrases represented as “common, everyday” street-level English that I had never once heard anyone use EVER, but incorrect phonetic representations of English words. It seemed like a joke about a thick French accent but it wasn’t, it was supposed to be a realistic education in English. But under “this” was written: “pronounced like zees“.

I had a revelation. What if bad accents everywhere are a type of butterfly effect? What if one well-intentioned French guy who thought he had a handle on the English language wrote the first French-English dictionary, and because it’s easier for the French to say “th” as a “z” because that’s a more common sound for them, that’s how he explained it? What if it’s not that anyone is incapable of saying a foreign word correctly, it’s that we’re taught by people claiming to be experts and they themselves have it wrong?

It’s possible that our entire planet is involved in a bizarre game of telephone. And this is why r’s and l’s get mixed up in Asia. I can’t for the life of me figure out why “le” at the end of a word is commonly pronounced “un” here (like “littun boy”) other than these wild theories that I’ve come up with – someone has been teaching the entire nation improperly. V’s are said like w’s. It took me a while to figure all of this out, of course, but once you understand the basic hiccups (thanks to the Thai Airways phone representative who, in giving me my confirmation number, said “Wee like Wictor” and cleared that one up for me), you can actually communicate better. Now I order an appun juice with wodka, and I’m completely understood.

Of course, there are the exceptions to my acceptance of odd accents and mispronunciations. Under no circumstance is there any excuse for the GOVERNOR of California, who has lived in the United States for many decades now, to say Caulifohneeyah. I’m sure he hangs onto that because he thinks it’s charming, and perhaps there’s a small demographic of women in their fifties and a handful of gay men who thinks this makes him seem sexy. I think it makes him seem like Rainman. Who the hell becomes a governor of a state and decides it’s cute to pronounce it wrong? Someone who needs to be spoonfed their applesauce. Someone who thinks a Hummer is a perfectly reasonable vehicle to drive.

I love the English mistakes here, and they will always stick with me. I’m still mulling over the campaign for makeup that reads, “Appealing is Everything”. It’s actually pretty profound. -K

Way to take the fun out of Beyonce, Dad

Stitcher sent me this and I had to share…hope you guys haven’t already seen it. Funny on so many levels and then I wonder, wait, is he driving his three children and filming?  Maybe this dad’s got more to think about than being a musical wet blanket. And the gender confusion he just caused his son.

Monk Chat

This is Jumpah. He is Laotian and he’s been a monk since he was 10 years old. He came to Thailand because there is no university for monks in Laos and he wanted to learn better English. In my opinion, his English is great. He thinks it still needs a lot of work.

I told Eric a long time ago that one of the things I must do in Thailand is to find a monk to have a conversation with, because I have a lot of questions about Buddhism, and here we are at the source of the answers. I’ve been reading Buddhist literature since I was a teenager, and I relate to many of the teachings and try to apply them to my life (it’s an awkward, feeble attempt but I do try). I wouldn’t identify myself as a Buddhist by any means, I was raised a Christian, but there was a time when the Christians stopped answering my questions about their religion to my liking, so I distanced myself. My religion is a bit of a mixed bag, a veggie soup of a little of this and a little of that. Devoutly religious people just love people like me, by the way, and consider this on-the-fence spirituality to be breaking the rules. This, of course, only serves to encourage my rebellious streak.

Back to Jumpah. I sought him out because as I was reading about Thailand and the protocol for women and monks, (women can’t touch a monk, can’t hand something to a monk, can’t look a monk in the eyes, can’t enter ordination halls) I realized that I very well may be aligning myself with a culture that doesn’t view me as an equal. That worried me. I started to wonder if I  was akin to one of those white guys with dreadlocks and a Jamaican flag beanie in a Bob Marley t-shirt who think of themselves as nearly-but-not-quite-Rastafarian-because-of-the-whole-being-white-thing. Have I been quietly respecting the teachings of Buddha while not knowing that Buddha thinks I should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen and nowhere near his temples? Hmm.

So at last, I met my monk, and we sat by his temple to chat. I told him that I came from California and he asked how close that is to Texas. We talked about the novices being ordained today (going from their white robes to orange). Then I barreled right into a LOT of questions about Buddhist’s feelings towards women.

The answers are not simple but I understand them all and I’m so glad to know more. First of all, one must take into consideration that women are not considered to be equal to men in the country of Thailand or any of the neighboring countries. I disagree with that, but they’ve come a long way, just was we have in America, and it’s a process that’s continually improving, both in this country and my own (fingers crossed). That’s the foundation on which all of us are standing on. Secondly, a lot of the monk-women rules are in place in a similar way to the Catholic church and their no-marriage for priests rules. The monks need to be as pure as possible in order to reach nirvana, and they believe that engaging in sexual thoughts will get in the way (take one look at men’s record with infidelity and I’d agree that they tend to make decisions with the wrong head). The great difference about monks, as opposed to priests, they are free and welcome to leave their lifestyle and return to a civilian life at any time. But, while they’re monks, they don’t touch women because they’re trying to avoid temptation.

It was a nice, long conversation, and I won’t bore you with further details, but the point here is that I am welcome in the Buddhist religion should I ever choose to be, I am not considered to be a second-class citizen because I am a woman, or at least not any more so than society considers me to be.

As we wrapped it up, Jumpah invited me to study at the monastery for six months to a year. Wouldn’t that be something. If I suddenly stop blogging, I guess you’ll know what happened to me. Wait, I forgot, my mom just learned how to use a computer so that she could read my blog. I should probably not joke about such things. Hi Mom! Welcome to the internets! Love you! -K

Thoughts from my bed

I have never appreciated plastic bags appropriately until this trip. We have plastic bags of all sizes, the clothing-sized ones that compress your clothes into a much smaller space (as seen on TV, I hope you know what I’m talking about, if not, head to your local Container Store), the quart-sized ones for sunscreen and saline solution, the sandwich-sized ones for toothpaste and medicine, and the teeniest ones for jewelry and memory cards. We have ones called Aloksaks, which have info printed on them about how they’re military-tested and approved to be completely waterproof, but I find that a good ole’ Ziplock WITH zipper (this part is important) is the best way to go. The Aloksak plastic is thicker, which I can appreciate, but they seem to come unsealed easily, whereas a Ziplock with a zipper just won’t letcha down.

You could jump up and down on my backpack when it’s packed, and some type of liquid item might rupture, but everything else would be protected, because they’re in their own bags, and the ruptured item is also in a bag.

I’ve never packed like this. I usually have expensive makeup bags and shoe bags and all kinds of fancy accoutrements. To prevent any heartbreak over a possible theft or loss here, I downgraded to plastic bag packing. I might not ever go back to fancyland. I have taken quite a liking to the plastic bags.

I really enjoy knowing that if my purse or I should fall into a body of water, any any moment, my camera, my iPhone, and anything else of import is safely sealed in plastic.

I haven’t fallen into any water, mind you, and I’m almost wishing that I would, because when you’re prepared for something like that and it doesn’t happen, the effort feels a little wasted.

I also wish that it would rain, because I have been lugging my rainjacket around from place to place and haven’t used it once. Other things I have not used: pocket warmers (it’s 98 degrees here, I really can’t tell you what I was thinking, other than some apocalyptic worse-case-scenario scene), malaria pills (which were $600 and it looks like we are now not going to any malaria zones…will have to look into legal ramifications of putting up for sale on craigslist), and a travel-sized chess set. I’m determined to teach Eric how to play chess at some point. Maybe the 20 hour flight home.

Of course, you know that if it does rain, we will probably already be out, and we’ll get soaked while our rainjackets sit in our backpacks in the hotel. That’s just how life works sometimes.

These are the things I’ve been mulling over in the last two days, bed-ridden with a stomachache. Foreign food finally got the best of me. It hasn’t been any great tragedy and Eric did a great job of taking care of me. It just meant that I had to stay in bed.

I’ve been laying here wondering about things like why the cast of The West Wing isn’t real and why I’m not a part of it. I’m not sure I’ve ever met people in real life that I like as much as I like the characters of The West Wing.

I wonder when it’s time go back to the states, and when we do, where we will stay in NY while looking for a new home.

I realize that I am not ever going to be as patient as I would like to be, and that my vision of backpacking around with no real direction for months on end is not ever going to be a reality. I’m itching to return to a job.

I am immensely grateful for the months that we’ve had in Thailand. I’m glad that we played it all by ear and set no plans because it allowed us the freedom to wander and go wherever the day took us. It’s been a break from the norm that I will always cherish.

However, I am ready to stop living out of plastic bags. Eric had a dream last night that he had to pack again today and he woke up upset. Ha. Packing really does go on the top of the list of Things That Suck.

Two more weeks. I think two more weeks is an appropriate amount of time to explore the northern end of Thailand. Then it’s back to reality. I hope New York is ready for us. Because New York, I am ready for some sushi and a Metro card. -K

Poo-what?

Leaving Koh Samui for Phuket...in hindsight, a bad move.

The name Phu-ket sounds like Toi-let with poo already in it. And that’s what it felt like. We went to Phuket because we really enjoyed our time in the islands of the Gulf of Thailand, and we kept hearing that the Andaman Coast was even more beautiful and ever more wonderful. So off we went with high hopes. High hopes, of course, are usually a good indication of the beginning of a problem, aren’t they?

Phuket is one of the most overdeveloped places I’ve ever been to. It’s scalding hot and it smells like sewage. As we rode in from the airport, I kept hoping that we were just driving through an area and soon we’d get to our little oasis. But alas, it’s all the same; Tijuana meets Vegas meets Times Square.

Luckily our hotel (the La Flora Resort) was a well chosen oasis indeed, if you stayed in your room. Outside, it sat in between a MacDonald’s and a Starbuck’s and across from a 7-11. There is nothing Thai about this island. I heard it described as spring break for the over-40 set, and that’s pretty accurate. The beach was littered with thousands of men with pierced nipples and 300 pound women in bikinis.

Admittedly, a lovely hotel - these were our welcome flowers & mangoes

Whenever we land somewhere, we begin discussions about whether we’ll extend our stay or get the heck out of dodge. In Phuket, we immediately made our travel arrangements to get to Chiang Mai, and waited for Phuket to be over.

We ventured out once, past the Hard Rock Cafe, past the scores of yelling tailors and tuk-tuk drivers, and made it to a mall (because it was air conditioned, don’t judge). This is where we ran into the wai’ing Ronald McDonald. A wai is a traditional Thai greeting where you put your hands together in a prayer pose and bend forward. Seeing Ronald do it made me want to McCry.

At the Phuket Airport, we got a drink at the most bizarre airport bar I have ever been in. It was supposedly American-themed, with the waitresses dressed as “cowgirls”. Bad disco music blared in the background. It was a fitting way to say goodbye.

In Chiang Mai, we’ll be flying via zipline through the gibbon-filled rainforest, volunteering at the Elephant Nature Park, conversing with monks, and visiting some tribal villages. In other words, no more Mickey D’s, thank Buddha. xo-K

Oh, Koh Tao

I have only been gone a day but I’m already feeling so nostalgic about Koh Tao. My brain’s a lot of mush these days, but in the best way possible. I’ve finally stopped having nightmares about late 2009, which I think is a positive indicator that this trip is doing exactly what I had hoped. Instead, I’m having dreams about swimming, the fantastic people that we’ve met, diving, and traveling.

Every community has their own quirks. Some of them are endearing, and some of them are annoying. I love the stray cats and dogs of Thailand. I know that Animal Control is a big thing in the US and I’m sure that they serve a great purpose, but I enjoy the scruffy animals that hang out here. I definitely don’t bury my face in their fur or anything (and yes, I have seen tourists do this); all of these animals could use some shots and a nice long trip to the vet, but they don’t seem hungry, they have restaurants and tourists to feed them, they lay around the beach all day, and they make me smile. I will especially miss the black kitty that lived outside of our room.

I’ll miss the children. I was not irritated by them at all for some reason (shocker!!). They play in their parents’ workplaces. They’re polite and cute and all smiles. I had a play date with a little girl in a restaurant yesterday, the cook’s daughter, and even though we don’t speak the same language, we had a great time together. She’s 4 and she wears pink eye shadow.

Street food here is an art. Granted, in Los Angeles, food trucks are the new hip do, but in Koh Tao, it’s executed better, faster, and of course, cheaper. Nutella crepes at 2am? Yes, please. I will miss you, Shai from Bangladesh, and yes, yours really are the “Best Pancakes”, just as you shout out.

I did grow weary of throwing toilet paper into a trash can (with a lid, so it’s a whole squat, grab-handle, drop paper, and try to not touch anything gross dance). I now recognize that being able to flush is a luxury, and while it’s good to receive that wake-up call, I definitely had moments in the middle of the night when I was just dying to drop the paper in the water.

Motorbikes are everywhere, and they are rented out to tourists who have never driven them before. Walking on a sidewalk is like playing a real-life version of Frogger. Auto safety laws are desperately needed in Thailand, for the health of the drivers and the pedestrians.

As scared as I am that one of those squiggly little geckos will fall off the ceiling onto my head, I do appreciate them and their part in the eco-system. They’re there to eat the mosquitoes. And for this, I’m happy. Because, from what I can tell, we’re here for the mosquitoes to eat us.

Eric and I are so grateful to Ban’s Diving Resort for miraculously turning us into PADI Advanced level scuba divers. I’ll never forget our instructor Lucy from London, who made her first scuba dive in Mango Bay, the same place as our first dive, ten years ago. She decided she loved it and made Koh Tao her home. She picked up a Swedish boyfriend and made a gorgeous baby along the way. What an interesting life sweet Matilda will lead. I’m excited for her.  Lucy was my angel; she saved my life. Literally.

Then there’s Andrew, our second instructor who definitely seems to be committing to the Koh Tao way of life. He and his Thai girlfriend just ordered furniture for their place (from the 7-Eleven. No, I’m not joking. They have a catalog. That’s how it’s done).

Thank you to Thai Lucy, my masseuse, who force-fed me her peppermint tea every day and lovingly rubbed around my scuba-related scrapes and bruises. I had tried to climb up the boat ladder, but the sea didn’t agree that it was the right time, and the waves slammed the boat into me. It’s a tricky move, holding onto a slippery ladder with wet hands in rough seas with a million pounds on your back. The key is to grab the ladder when it’s underwater and let the next wave pull you up. But you have to keep a firm hold on the ladder. That’s where I messed up. Just once, though. I do get the hang of things eventually.

Much love to our classmates Lisa and Josh, who got put in the “slow group” with us the second day. They’re from the UK and are traveling the world until CHRISTMAS. They’re an inspiration to me, they’re a radiant couple, and I know that wherever they go, the people they meet will feel as blessed to know them as I do.

Onward to Phuket. -K

Graduates

I promise that I’m a lot happier than I look here. I did have a panic attack at 48 feet below the surface, standing on the ocean floor. We were doing an exercise where we have to take our mask off completely, put it back on, and then blow all of the water out of the mask by exhaling through the nose. But with a regulator in my mouth, keeping my mouth open, I couldn’t make myself blow out of my nose, I just kept exhaling into my regulator. I didn’t have a problem with this yesterday, but I think sometimes your instincts take over and if your body feels itself doing something unusual, it doesn’t always co-operate. So I inhaled a ton of water through my nose AND mouth, and my instructor was trying to help me, but all I could think about was the fact that I had water instead of air in my lungs, and I kept making signals “Go up! Go up!” but of course, I wouldn’t have made it up that far without any air, and you can’t ascend mid-panic, you have to go slowly, so the problem had to be resolved down under. After a lot of coughing (you can cough into your regulator) and a really bad couple of minutes, I recovered and all was well. And now I know what it feels like to experience the worst of scuba. And I know that it’s okay. My instructor said at the surface that she had been very concerned for me, and Eric said I lost all the color in my face and went totally white. Whiter than normal,even. Awesome!

Everything else was genius; the fish, the stingray, the coral, the clear water. We did decide to take the advanced class so we’ll take a couple of days off and then continue.  I promise to stop talking about this now. Thanks for sharing in our little underwater adventures. -K