There and Back Again

I never thought an icy cold taxi could be so welcome.  Don Muang Airport, the metered taxi stand, and a driver who spoke NO English, not even that confusing kind where we are searching for Thai words and he is trying out his limited English, a pigeon mishmash that leaves everyone smiling and nodding, not sure whether we understood one another, but happy to have communicated.  It took me a few kilometers before I understood he wanted to take the Expressway and needed the toll money.  Thailand seems easy after Bali...3 degrees below the equator, 92 and 85% humidity.  Just walking to the bottom of Jalan Suweta left us drenched in sweat and exhausted.  It was easier to stay at Ketut's amid the garden, the birds, the peaceful quiet and his wonderful friendly family.  Our last night was poignant.  Wayan, Mrs. Ketut, gave us gifts and she and I talked and bonded.  She said Made told her taking me to Tampaksiring reminded her of taking her Auntie, Wayan's sister, who died of breast cancer a few years ago.  Of course, I'd rather not hear the "dying" part, but the sentiment is sweet and heartfelt, that reluctant community of "cancer people" that none of us really want to belong to.

These are holding days.  Days to visit the 7-Eleven and look for bug spray, scissors to replace the ones I had to leave at the Denpassar Airport, and see what chocolate is for sale.  Days for sitting at Ricky's with a cup of American with sweet milk and a bowl of muesli fruit and yogurt, and, of course, a visit to Chatuchak.  We are off to Korat next week, Nakhon Ratchasima, the site of a US airbase during the Vietnam war.  The hotels are all "business" related, whatever that means, but I do want to see Phimai.  It just seems that we need to move slowly, and carefully.