I went Christmas shopping last night in the Central department store, which is like the Macy's of the mall in America. With that in mind, think about shopping there for seasonal things as opposed to, say, the Dollar Tree. You catch my drift? When a decent tree and ornaments cost well over a hundred dollars, my wallet threatens to leave me.
But that's not what is so sad. Shopping for Christmas decorations for my apartment is just a reminder -- a BIG reminder -- that I'll be alone for Christmas. That I won't be home with family for Christmas. That I won't be surrounded by friends that I grew up with. That the lack of cold weather, freezing hands, and icy roads completely voids any semblance for Christmas no matter how many wreaths and bells I scatter around my apartment.
These were my thoughts as I spent over 2,000 baht on decorations that I didn't even have the heart to buy with joyful anticipation. That is why they are still sitting in two huge bags in my living room. That is why I need to wait until I have energy to put them up without feeling completely sorry for myself.
I never thought I would be sad -- actually sad about spending Christmas away from family; away from the familiar. I guess the gypsy life does have its drawbacks.
This last week I began an honest search for a second-hand bookstore here in Bangkok that sold books in English. My search brought me to Dasa (with an accent over the first 'a'). While I didn't spend a lot of time here, I'm sure I'll be back very soon. They have a vast array of books in English -- they're not just the random books no one ever hears of -- and three floors of them. :)
Love #1: books
My hunt for books came when I realized that a family in our church needs some good reading material to keep them busy on slow days. I was starting to think I would have to order these books online, but low and behold here they were on the second floor in the children's section: The complete Chronicles of Narnia in one book. I casually browsed for several other authors and found several Christian ones I like. Since I didn't want to take back so many books (they are quite heavy), I just bought three.
The first one: Chronicles of Narnia. Mission accomplished. The second one: ....something about beauty and truth? Okay, so I don't remember the title, but that's only because the cover looked interesting and was a complete impulse buy. Impulse buys on books never turn out satisfying, so I'm crossing my fingers. The third one: The Highlord. Definitely a surprise. You see, I started this trilogy at my aunt and uncle's place this summer, but since the books are all over 500 pages each, I only made it through the first two and left before getting into the third book. Would you believe it, Dasa only had the third book in stock! God's pretty amazing to give me a treat like that (even though it's not a Christian book and is all about magicians.....hmm, does that mean it's not from God?). In any case, I'm pretty excited to start it even though it'll have to wait until I have free time, and not at midnight like it is now.
Love #2: coffee
That's right folks, this bookstore has a coffee shop. There is a very limited set of drinks, but it is good to go. No chai, however, which would make this the perfect place to be if it had that autumn-spicy goodness.
Love #3: home
So strange, but for the twenty minutes I was in there, I didn't feel like I was in Bangkok surrounded by strangers. I felt like I was home in a local bookstore in Salem, Oregon. Downtown Salem is quite quaint, and there's this little coffee shop called Governor's Cup that serves excellent chai. I felt like I was there -- only surrounded by books. There was just this eclectic vibration throughout the entire place that told me to pull up a chair, order an espresso, and open up a good book. And it felt like Oregon.
Today I had my first Thailand dental experience. It was torture. Not like torture. It was torture.
When I sat down in the reclining chair and waited as they slowly tipped it back, I wondered why we were in a closed room with no windows. I wondered why there were three masked and gloved women in the cramped space with me. I wondered why they were putting a dark cloth over my face. But I sat there like a fool waiting for my death.
And then it happened.
All the drill sounds you hear in horror flicks when a person is gagged and about to have something vital cut off start whirling right above of my gaping mouth. And then the torture began.
With my face completely covered, save my mouth (you thought I was exaggerating, didn't you?), I heard a number of whirling gadgets -- none of which contained the appropriate toothpastey stuff normally found on whirling gadgets. She poked and prodded in my mouth, showered my teeth with liters of water (trying on the metric system for size, how am I doing?), and didn't even bother sucking it out with that other tube that was hanging out at the back of my throat with my uvula. I swear, she nearly attached that thing to my soft pallet and forgot about the water and saliva pooling at the base of my tongue. I ended up swallowing it until she was done with the dry tooth-cleaning. The scraping of metal against my teeth was worse than nails on a chalkboard -- not only did I hear the atrocious sound, I also had to endure the feel of it against my teeth. Now I'm wondering if the two other girls in attendance could tell how much I was cringing under the face cloth by the clutching of my hands in my lap.
Just as I was ready to rip the cloth off of my face, all the while surprised my arms weren't tied down, I felt it lifted off of me, and the bright light from the dentist lamp shone down on me. I was advised to spit and rinse my mouth. No thanks, I've already swallowed it already.
But wait, there's more.
The 'regular' teeth-cleaning portion began, complete with face cloth, water, and the reuniting of my soft pallet and the sucky tube. The distinct feeling of actual paste against my teeth was a blessed relief. At least this was something I was familiar with. I waited in darkness for it to all be over; feeling exposed, vulnerable, and not the least comfortable. Finally, the cloth was removed for the last time and a mirror was shoved in my hand. I was instructed to open my mouth again so the dentist could point out the cleanliness of my teeth, but I was distracted by all the greyish spots around my mouth, arms, and even a little on my clothes. The crusty paste had seeped into my deepest pores. I ground my teeth and immediately felt it everywhere. No amount of rinsing could cleanse me of the horrific memory of such a deed.
I left directly after I paid. Why I paid for such torture, I will never know. And what do you suppose I did when I left that unassuming horror show? Stuff my face with dinner. And dessert.
