A Tale of Two Freckles

First off, that's a lie. There are more than two freckles -- there's a whole face of 'em. But it's a Thai freckle tale, nonetheless.

Somewhere at the beginning of the school year, we had class pictures taken. It was a fun event, and the girls were going crazy with straighteners, curling irons, and blow dryers. The boys were fooling around in the picture-taking room and teased each other mercilessly for the poses the photographers were making them do. Teachers also got pictures taken. I ordered class pictures and received my own complimentary individual picture set. Now I'm stuck with a dozen pictures of me in various sizes. Makes me feel like I'm in middle school again. Oh wait, I am.
The point being, when the pictures came in I was distinctly devoid of the one thing that defines my face: my freckles. Thanks "U-Smile" for photo-shopping these right off of me. Apparently, if they don't like what they see, they delete it.

The story continues about a month back -- right before Christmas break -- when I had to see a dermatologist about, well, skin problems. In my follow-up visit after my doctor checked the affected area on my hands, she pointed at my face and asked if I wanted to make an appointment to get them removed by laser. I asked her what she was talking about, and she said my freckles. With a frown and a smile, I told her no. I had to ask why in the world would she ask such an odd question. Her reply, Thais don't like freckles. They come in all the time to get freckles and other moles removed.

Ah, that answers so many questions. This is why I've never seen a Thai with facial moles or freckles. This is why I've heard so many comments on my freckles (not that I'm the least bit Thai). And this is why all my freckles were photo-shopped out of my school picture.

I Didn't Blush. But He Did.

Some days are memorable because everything goes according to plan.
Some are memorable because they don't.

My day was memorable because, even in work-out clothes, I was told twice that I was gorgeous.



Actually, that's not really why my day was memorable, but it was certainly great to hear. :)

I love my 8th grade class. I love them so much that I look forward to every interaction I have with them -- regular class time and otherwise. It usually takes us a few minutes to settle down because we like talking so much, and during one such settling-down period, a very interesting conversation ensued.

You see, several months before coming to ICS, the current middle school teachers showed the students the picture and bio that new teachers sent in (ie: the current 8th grade class saw our pictures last year as 7th graders) so they could familiarize themselves with their future teachers. Apparently I looked younger in my picture than I do in real life (and much better looking too); therefore I had some students eagerly awaiting my arrival. Boy was I a disappointment......for all but one brazen student.

Honestly I can't remember exactly what we were talking about, but the banter between me and a few of the students was light. One of the boys, (and I'll admit to having a soft spot for him), was talking about how he knew he and I were going to get along well even before meeting me. How we were meant to be the best duo.

And the the icing on the cake: "Miss Lissa, phew, when I saw you in person for the first time at that assembly....I knew it was love at first sight. I blushed the first time you looked at me."

Now, I know he loves the big talk, but I'm not gonna lie, it was great getting my ego stroked. And to my credit, I didn't blush under the flattery -- even in front of the entire class. I shook my head in resignation, going along with his joke. "You're right my friend, I knew we'd make the perfect pair. It was meant to be."


............And he blushed for real right in front of the whole class. The room burst with laughter. He tipped his imaginary hat off to me, and I slyly changed the subject to our favorite subject: Grammar.

January 7, 2011

Wow -- the most ironic story of my life: it's not bad enough apparently to be filling my body with fatty foods through digestion, now I'm absorbing it through my skin.

That's right folks, I was putting lotion on this morning and started reading the label on the bottle. Curiosity concerning whitening creams often become paranoia since moving to Thailand. Asians love being white. They are obsessed with being white. I don't see why, but they are. Consequently, every lotion and cream tends to have some form of whitening in it.

Good news -- no whitening sneaked in without my knowing.

Bad news -- "this lotion is infused with a high concentration of fatty acids."




Epic fail.

January 3, 2011

[Yes, these few posts are slightly out of order. I wrote them down in the Philippines, and am finally getting around to posting them electronically. Bear with the confusion.]


Since my jeans became unwearable yesterday due to coffee stains and a ripped back pocket, I decided to window shop through Landmark in Tri Noma Mall on the off-chance I'd find a pair that'd fit me. I knew they carried American brands at a cheaper price, but the issue was finding a size big enough for me.


Warning: this next section contains highly sensitive information. Personal information. At the risk of embarrassment, I'm sharing this with you.




I found the ladies' jeans section and casually browsed through the sizes. I quickly discovered they carried no sizes above a 32 (women's sizes are marked like men's sizes). Finally I broke down and asked a sales associate for other sizes.

"Excuse me, do you have any big sizes?"
"Yes, ma'am," she said confidently.
"Like a 38?"
She frowned, "Oh, no."

Yup, that's what I thought. Story of my life -- I'm too huge that even department stores don't carry my size. Ironically, I've noticed bigger Pinoys than Thais, yet I still can't find jeans. Whyyyy? (Yes, I'm whining.)

So after being told I was too large for their jeans, I did the only logical thing -- I tried to prove them absolutely right . I hunted down a Taco Bell, Cinnabon, and Orange Julius -- in that order. It was gloriously, Americanly scrumptious.

Take that jeans that are ten sizes too small; that's how real Americans handle crappy news.

A blue [jean] story

Alright, I have nothing really grand to post. It's already the 3rd here in the Philippines (which I can't believe), so since I'm already late with my New Years resolutions, I might as well post something inconsequential.

I went to church today with my lola since I haven't seen her since Christmas Eve. I wanted to greet the pastor of her church as well since he's become a friend of the family's. Anyway, Lola, being the well-meaning and prompt woman that she is, insisted that we attend church early. By early, I mean we showed up an hour and a half before the service. I was sleepy, bored, and otherwise hungry since I didn't eat breakfast or had my morning coffee.

She brings me to the coffee room where I make myself some really horrible instant coffee (I had no way of measuring out how much I needed so I definitely over-scooped myself). After sitting on the old pew trying to cool my coffee, and allowing my lola to introduce me to all these 'titos' and 'titas' who aren't actually related to me at all; she introduces me to this one older gentleman.

This man then proceeds to spill my scalding hot coffee all over my hand and down my jeans. Not even missing a beat, he barely notices my terse reaction and continues to ask me how I am, how are my parents, and how long I've been visiting in the Philippines so far. Trying to follow the Thai way of doing things, I kept a smile on my face while frantically searching for a napkin, paper towel, or rag to wipe myself down with. After watching me scrub at my jeans with a hankie for a couple minutes, and finally noticing that I've only answered one of his questions, he awkwardly moves on to talk to another older woman. I stand, turn in a full circle, and try to think of something to solve the major problem of the giant stain down the front of my pants.

I am swearing up a storm in my head. I'm not feeling guilty at all that I'm in church since the Tagalog service is still going on and my English swear words mean nothing in Tagalog. I mumbled something to my lola about washing myself in the bathroom and dart off. Just my luck, church hasn't even started and instead of 'Sunday best' I look like I put on jeans that haven't been washed in weeks. I was furious. I tried everything in the bathroom -- water, hand sanitizer, spit -- but it was pointless. I had officially become Filipino trash. The only thing I wasn't wearing from Asian markets was my jeans, but now after coffee splattered everywhere, it might as well have been.

But let's not stop here.

After church Lola suggested I go to the mall to grab some lunch and chill out there for a bit so I don't get bored with hanging out at the house. Good idea. Shopping has always been therapeutic. I walk around everywhere, grab some KFC for the first time that day (yup, I had it for dinner too), and eventually make my way to the clothing shops. It was in the back of my mind to look for jeans, but we all know Pinoys are tiny people who wouldn't have double digit sizes even if they imported them, so I decided to window shop instead.

One shop I wandered into had some tops I was willing to try on, so I slipped behind the curtain disguised as a dressing room only to discover the back of my jeans were ripped. Not just a tiny hole, but an inch-and-a-half gap along the hem of my pocket.

It's just a pocket you say. Not just a pocket. It is a bad omen that these jeans will have to be retired soon. This can't happen. I wear American sizes and I'm stuck in Asia. I'm not going home for another six months. These are my only pair of jeans.

In my distraught state, I bought two blouses.

They won't make up for my precious jeans, but it's a start.

Jan 4, 2011

It's no fun traveling alone.

Maybe for a private retreat it might be fun, but when a vacation stretches for over two weeks, alone time becomes something of a punishment.

I love being alone. I value my private time. I'm even very comfortable with it. But when I want to voice my opinion, share an inside joke, or simply people-watch -- another person sitting with me is vital.


I'm currently sitting in my favorite coffee shop in all of SE Asia: The Coffee Bean, and am surrounded by dozens of people having dozens of conversations, but I am without a doubt alone. It's not just that they're all speaking another language -- that can be easily remedied (since I learn languages that fast. Note the sarcasm) -- but they are all with someone. Or they're with their computers, which is sometimes an even better substitute.

Unfortunately, all the people I would text to meet me here are thousands of miles away, across a vast ocean, on another continent, and over a dozen time-zones away. One of the drawbacks of being on an Asian island with no friends to talk to.



Note to self: no more one-woman travel shows. And make sure the other person you're with is no more than 5 years your junior and 10 years your senior.

Toothpaste anyone?

Who ever goes into an Oceanarium and thinks, "Hmm, I need to buy some toothpaste"?

You're right -- no one. So why do companies think it's a good idea to put a toothpaste/dental care stand in the middle of an aquarium and expect to make a profit?

The scene: Ocean World, Manila, Philippines
Date: December 28, 2010
People: My cousins and their cousins (on mom's side)

Going to visit the fishies -- both big and small -- we almost get through the tour when we come across a small corner kiosk of Hapiee toothpaste right next too the fish spa area. Not only is there just a booth, but there are two sales reps with prepackaged sets of toothpaste, a toothbrush, and floss all ready to go. These poor suckers are hanging out in front of the fish spa trying to hawk passerbyers on their way to get their feet cleansed.
I would hate that job. I do hate that job, and I don't even work there.

Just one of the silly things that don't make sense in the Philippines.

2011 New Year Resolutions

I make a habit of having more than one New Years resolution because it gives me a higher probability of succeeding. I have, however, narrowed it down to five instead of the almost a dozen that I had last year.

In no particular order:

1. Smile more. especially in Thailand. For the 'land of smiles' Thais in Bangkok don't do as much as their name proclaims. I will be a good Bangkok expat and do my duty at smiling on a more regular basis -- and not simply because I have to.

2. Stay current on grading. This will take some diligence considering I really am lazy and let it pile up, and before I know it, I have a half foot high stack of projects that I have to grade over Christmas break....yes, I mean right now.

3. We are going to be realistic and forgo the whole facade of trying to lose weight; instead, resolution #3 is to simply exercise on a regular basis. No matter what people have been saying about me losing weight and looking thinner than when I was in the Philippines six months ago, I do not believe them. In fact, if I've lost weight then it's because I've lost muscle-mass; and we all know that muscles weighs more than fat.

4. Be more relaxed. Thais love saying "mai pen rai" which means "no worries" or "it doesn't matter." I loathe this saying with a passion. Hopefully throughout 2011 I'll be able to truly embrace this saying and tell people that it doesn't matter.
Only it does. It matters a lot when people are idiots and rip you off because you're a farang. It is dishonest. I will not stand for it......wow, that resolution lasted all of three seconds.

5. Last but not least -- the best is saved for last -- and whatever cliches you can think of, I want to strive to connect more with people. This includes family I've lost touch with, acquaintances I've met, friends I already know, and friends I have yet to meet. The only thing I have is people. When I so brazenly uprooted myself and planted myself in Bangkok, I need to find a way to make friends. I will talk more about this in a later post.



For now, these are the resolutions of 2011. God willing, I'll be able to meet one of them.


Oh, for those curious, I did succeed in one very important resolution from last year -- I kept my alcoholic drinking occasions to 12 exactly. See, it can be done!!! I am proud of myself, even if no one else is. I didn't even have a drink for New Years. Maybe this is a good habit and tradition to start for healthier living....