Final weeks in Bangkok

Debbie Downer

To be honest, I've been in a little funk since I moved Stateside.  Why?  I mean, everyone keeps talking about how great life is - wedding, new job, new city.  Shouldn't I be beyond thrilled?

I'm grateful for so many things.  I feel lucky to have found a partner in life, who shares many of my dreams and who happens to be one of the most loving, patient, ego-free people I know.  I've also managed to find a more sustainable, not dysfunctional way to practice human rights law, with a group of supportive, fairly laidback lawyers. (Who knew such people/lawyers existed?)  While many young lawyers are burning out from law, I feel as if I've found my niche.  And, though I continue to learn the contours of this work, as I did in Cambodia and in Thailand, I do enjoy this type of practice, this weird mix of international policy and human rights law, which will require international travel  - some complain it can require too much international travel. 

Still, I just miss living abroad. And more specifically, I miss Asia. 

I'm looking forward to our honeymoon in Turkey.

The weekend.

It was one of those lazy weekends.  Now that the sun is out, Ethan and I have made a weekend habit of walking through our neighborhood, past the row of embassies, down to Dupont Circle.  (We're not yet sure if we'll stay in this neighborhood. While the architecture is charming and there are numerous shops/cafes and an awesome public library within short walking distance, the lack of diversity is startling.   But, for now, it is home.)

This Saturday, the EU embassies opened their doors to the public. Crowds lined up. We did too. We scored chocolates, waffles, Framboise and other beer at the Embassy of Belgium.  That embassy was even raffling off tickets to Belgium. Well done, Belgium.

We visited a few other embassies, seeking cover from the spotty afternoon showers in ornately decorated dining rooms and eventually made it to Kramerbooks, where I thumbed through a few guides to Istanbul and stumbled upon a Xinjiang province (China) guidebook, which brought back all sorts of memories of crossing the Kazakhstan-China border by bus.

It's funny how my memory glosses over certain things, like that bus ride. But that memory came in  so clearly yesterday, leaving me with images of the desert.  There was the bus emptied of seats, brightly-colored tapestries covering the back wall and floor. The group - there were maybe 12, all, but us, local--sat on the floor as the bus bumped along the desert highway.  A young Kazakh woman with jet black hair and a slender face asked where we were from. We shared a sequence of broken phrases and, from what I gathered between her laughter, she advised me to have children.  Later, as we crossed out of Kazakhstan and then into Xinjiang province in China, I would catch her checking in on us, buzzing around the lines, making sure we made it through.

That was nearly two summers ago.

I continued to thumb through the book and its stunning views of Xinjiang, the images leaving me a little melancholy.  

Eloping

via Duncan Wolfe

I'm not going to elope. It would break Ethan's heart a little if we didn't share the day with our family and closest friends- and over the months since our engagement, he has convinced me and I'm looking forward to our simple ceremony. Plus, his dad has been practicing his bagpipes since I asked him to play a tune during/after the ceremony.  And his mom has been so sweet to coordinate so much of the day. And his sister-in-law is baking all sorts of summer pies...

And when was the last time I saw several of my close friends in one venue?  Ages ago.

It is decided.

But, this elopement-- a couple ran off to Paris to elope--tugs at my heartstrings in a different way.

Missing Thailand

Today, my thoughts of Thailand center on Thai reconstructured vintage dresses, the kind I would often pick up at Chatuchak Market.

2013 so far.

Spring is here.  I do hope that means I am turning a corner this year because the first few months of 2013, for lack of a more accurate word, sucked.  Oh my god.

Ethan arrived from Bangkok two weeks ago, which helped immensely.  Even on days when I'm feeling slightly more curmudgeonly than usual, or when I'd rather sit and write all day, he forces me to go outside, to take a walk through the park. Yellow wildflowers are in abundance.   

One month, stolen luggage, and Mayle pangs.

Hmmm.

So I realize there's been a lot of things that have changed for me since I last lived in the US.  I knew this, but I didn't really know this, not until now as I'm confronted by little culture-shock after little culture-shock, day after day, each leaving me shaking my head or furrowing my brow. 

The last month has not been easy for me.  Work is super interesting, and related to my work in Cambodia, but it's on such a different level that sometimes it feels disconnected.  Like in fancy meetings in ornately decorated government offices, where I landed several times during my first week, in discussions about communities and human rights and where these mega-projects should be going.  Anyway, I don't even want to go there right now.

What I really want to do is vent.  A few days ago, as I was moving my things to my new place, I realized that someone had stolen one of my luggage pieces, left in a storage in the hotel where I was staying.  Fifty pounds of clothing, books, trinkets from last few years. All my favorite vintage dresses, several of the silk and linen dresses I made in Cambodia, many of my Mayle dresses and jackets that I have been collecting throughout the years (but not all of them- thank goodness), letters, souvenirs - all things I valued enough to pack into the suitcase and bring with me, but somehow was able to leave it in a purportedly secure storage room in a hotel?

The realization that someone had stolen my things left me reeling and did nothing but add to the already foreign experience in this cold city.  It pushed me over the edge in some ways, and all I could do was cry out of anger and frustration.  After filing a police report and arguing with the hotel owner, and beating myself up, I now feel this huge loss and this mounting anger.

At the same time, I know these are "just" things.  In the past week, there has been a death in my extended family and Ethan's grammie is having health issues.  These are just clothes, no?!

But not really, which goes back to my first sentence about how things are different for me.  When I last lived in the US, I bought things constantly.   Many things I am glad I invested in, but the vast majority of purchases were done for the sake of buying and consuming.  I do not even think it registered with me at the time.

Upon my return Stateside, I faced boxes and boxes of clothing and shoes.  And frankly, it made me feel disgusting because, in the past 3+ years of my life (very happy, fulfilled years despite difficulties), I did not really miss all those things.  Yes, I missed the feeling of wearing a beautiful dress or a coat every now and then, but I certainly did not miss all the things I accumulated and stored. 

Surprisingly, I was very happy, living with very much less.  As I look back now, I see that Cambodia forced me to go cold turkey on my consumption habits.

I came back to the US aware of my past consumption habits and determined to be more careful because, I realized, I already had a very full wardrobe and didn't really need anything else.

But with this incident... the buying moratorium may be lifted.