Dontcha put it in your mouth.......

Angels singing.....

                                      

Ring of fire. Seriously. My morning gaff of speaking too harshly with my new boss had resulted in me finishing my entire bowl of chili laced gruel as a form of apology. Now, 4 hours later, I was sitting in my heat box sauna of a bathroom alternately pooing fire water and being violated by the ass hose. It was an unpleasant way to start off my whole ‘try new things’ lifestyle.

( If new things result in fire poo, then new age folks can have them, pass the mayo and ketchup please.) 

As I sat on the toilet giving the ass hose the evil eye I realized that I would have to stay true to some of the old me. I was in this for the long haul (a YEAR at least!) and I must pace myself.  Staying strong and healthy was probably the best way to keep being able to try new things, so I decided to swear off spicy breakfast, and head to the 7-11 about a five minute walk away. My new boss had taken pity on me and told me that they had bread and banana muffins there, so I had decided to stock up.

It was hot. Not Canadian summer hot, where you are so grateful to wear a t-shirt that happiness seeps out of every pore, but Thailand hot where you are so scared to get caught in the sun, that you dash from shade spot to shade spot and sweat seeps out of every pore. The 7-11 was on the other side of the street (of course!) so I had to engage in the crossing the street warfare yet again. Luckily, I had been trained earlier that day. 

I waited for a gap in the traffic on my side of the road and bolted for the white divider line, and then I stood firmly as the cars whizzed by and I waited for another gap.  Once I had successfully reached the other side of the street I was filled with an enormous amount of pride because I had done it all alone. 

(When I was planning my trip overseas I had visions of myself mastering the Thai language, doing charity work, and generally taking Thailand by storm, but since ‘effective street crossing’ had been added to my list, I knew I would have to revise these goals.)

With the swoosh of an automatic door and a blast of air conditioning, I knew I had found heaven. The staff behind the counter greeted me with the standard, “Sawasdee Ka” and I floated toward the aisles. It seemed like a very normal 7-11. Sure, it was missing a few of the staples from back home, like nachos and good chocolate, and the chip flavors had been altered for the eastern palate, but it was like a climate controlled paradise. I grabbed a shopping basket and picked up the essentials like a new toothbrush and toilet paper, then I moved on to the fun stuff. Food shopping. 

My stomach had finally calmed down after my breakfast of spicy rice soup and I looked at the shelves of bread with a homesick longing. I carefully selected two non-offensive looking buns and placed them in my basket. I also grabbed a bottle of orange juice and some gum. I laughed again at the exotic chip flavors, ranging from Spicy Dried Squid to Nori Seaweed, and then headed for the cashier. It was such a relief to know that the prices were pre-set and I would not have to do any of the haggling that the east is so famous for.

The check out went fine. The price was clearly marked on the monitor and I merely had to hand over my money and receive my change. I managed to say thank you in Thai and received a beaming smile from the cashier.  This was the first task that I felt I had successfully conquered. I stepped back out onto the street so full of confidence and happiness that I didn’t even mind the sun. The glare suddenly seemed perfect because I felt so much brighter on the inside. 

I set off to meet my new boss at the language school, about a 10 minute walk away, and reached into my bag to pull out the glorious bun. I first took a few big chugs of orange juice and then I opened the bun from its plastic packaging and took a small, savory bite. It was a little on the sweet side, but it was heavenly bland.

 I took another big bite and felt something dry, stringy and furry in my mouth. Without caring about the other pedestrians watching the sweaty farang on her walk, I spit the furry bit out into my hand. It looked exactly as it had tasted; like dry, furry, thin, brown shoelaces. Damn it. I tossed the barely eaten bun back into my bag and heading toward the language school, no longer prancing in the sunshine, but instead darting again from shadow to shadow.

Dontcha put it in your mouth....
Dontcha stuff it in your face....
'Till you ask someone you love
If it's okay to taste.