Something resembling home.

Okay, so my postings have taken a turn for the boring, and I think it’s time to share some amusing stories besides my motorbike and intestinal evacuation woes. My fascination earlier in my stay was more about how easy the adjustment was to make, despite living in an environment totally unlike one I’ve ever lived in before. Had I done this when I was 18 I think my “apartment” alone would have done me in. But now, at the wisened age of 23, every quirk of existence is a new adventure and I have yet to lose my patience over something that would never happen in the States. For example, my first night here was close to sleepless with dogs barking, cats mewwing, and motorbikes roaring down the road until all hours of the night (I live on the main road connecting the lower peninsula to the larger body of Thailand, so everyone headed anywhere from Bangkok to Chiang Mai passes by). I have since come to find that my earplugs work best when placed in the fridge first, if I go to bed at nine I won’t be all that upset by waking up at six (it’s quite nice actually to take a morning jog at sunrise), and finally-- getting a good night’s sleep is sooo pre-college Alyssa anyway. Besides the sleep sitch, living here has provided a number of other oddities as well. I’ve made friends with the geckos who hang out on my wall as well as with the mouse that enjoys scampering across my feet while I’m on the toilet (actually, things have been less “friendly” since I hid my soap from him… I learned the hard way that this mouse likes to steal and gnaw on soap).

My shower’s cold, but it’s never too cold for it to really bother me. My bathroom wall only rises to mid-rib, with a nice view of the row of apartments behind me. My landlord hung a towel as a curtain for me, which happens to be a great convenience when I go to the beach. However, every time I return from the beach I have already stripped down nipples-in-yo-face naked before inevitably realizing that the towel’s still in my bag and therefore I will need to do some creative maneuvering to rehang the towel in it’s proper boobie-hiding location.

Privacy is hardly a thing here, although when I compare my digs to those of the Burmese migrants we visited yesterday I realize I am living luxuriously. Yeah, my bed is hard as a rock and my pillow is close to nonexistent, but at least I have them. Not only that, but I even have my own place to sleep and eat. I just hung up my first load of laundry, and after spending at least half my time in Thailand going commando I’m pretty pumped to be wearing something under my shorts again in case another hornet decides to make it’s way up there when I’m riding my motorbike.

I’m headed to the market now to get some more cereal and perhaps a keychain for my bike key (a good idea I think, given my track record). I’ve cut off the bottom of a water bottle to put my frosted flakes in every morning, though hopefully at a bigger grocery store I can find something a bit less sugary (even the soy milk here is like dessert). There are so many more ways that this place is different from anywhere I’ve lived before, and this sentiment was at its strongest when I joined a group of fellow expats at Sandra and Emmanuel’s house for guac night last Monday. For various reasons, most of these people have made this place their home. It intrigues me because I could never imagine being here permanently, but it also reminds me that it’s only a matter of time before most anywhere can feel like “home”.