Imagine The North

This is a treat

2011-12-10T15:35:00.001+07:00

Ha ha this isn't really a treat. This is a test... but as I was testing using swype input it turned into a treat. And well frankly the test includes a shot up Dom's shorts so it is a treat. Really, of the finest kind. I should be charging you to even look. Picture was taken this afternoon. When Dom has a nap all the animals in the house gravitate towards him, including me.

from a plane window

2011-02-18T21:36:00.004+07:00

From a plane window everything seems so simple. Looking at the world from above rather than in I see how things are made; things like decisions and money and destinies. I see how change is managed like a move in a game of chess. Flying to Chiang Mai I had a moment, akin to the moment when Neo simultaneously sees the 'world' of the matrix and the code. I could see everything... from the obvious, like land ownership and management, to the economy and even the metaphorical growth and transmission of ideas.

Enlightenment means nothing matters and everything does.

There is no right and wrong way to live, everything is valid and the key is keeping hold of that awareness - the flow of energy that is the continual transaction of life. Then the plane descends through the clouds, macro becomes micro and complexity kicks in, bringing with it confusion. Simple decisions become difficult. I question, second guess and doubt myself until action becomes all but impossible.

Maybe this is why people climb mountains, not because 'they are there' as cliche would have it, but because when you reach the top everything else is.

glory lasts forever

2011-02-07T23:36:00.001+07:00

More from teh stimulating Vyx, I promise I will start thinking of my own original post content soon but the gears are a bit rusty and besides she always has such fun ideas. Here are the rules:

A penmanship survey! “The rules are really quite simple. Basically, you take a sheet of paper and you write the following:

1. What’s your name/your Blogger name?

2. What’s your blog’s name/URL?

3. Write “the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog”

4. Favourite quote?

5. Your favourite song?

6. Your favourite band/singers?

7. Anything else you want to say?

And here are my answers:

Go take a look at Vyx's answers here and also check out her tampon collection.

Incidentally, I should probably mention here that I am following a different strategy for posting since my comeback, through necessity I am afraid as my phone no longer syncs via Picasa to my blog. So the commentary in my header is now a total lie. It is still a photoblog made up of snapshots from my life but taken with my camera and uploaded to my computer and sometimes hosted on the northlands and sometimes uploaded directly here. I can't decide what is best - Kim, Kendra, any other watchers... what do you do - upload to blog or host elsewhere and link? I am just scared one day of logging in to a blog full of broken images.

Anyway, I need to change my header... I am not even in the North any more. Meh.

The contents of my life (I'm back)

2011-02-06T17:30:00.002+07:00

Well a year ago I decided to take a break from blogging and more recently made my blog invisible yet here I am back at the pixel-face with my arse out, metaphorically of course. There are several reasons why I am back but the main one being that Dom wouldn't put me on his "A" list unless I am actively posting.

The second reason is Teh Vyx made me think, superficially about the contents of my handbag and in more depth about the contents of my life and in so doing I began to ponder what makes us 21st century folk decide whether or not to share bag/life contents with the world at large.

As you can see from Vyxen's post and the comment commentary beneath it we differ slightly as to whether, when one is showing the world the contents of our handbags, we censor that image. Although I spoke out for openness I have been metaphorically censoring my handbag contents for a while now and I don't think it is working for me.

If one is going to broadcast one's existence on a public forum then it is better (within reason) to be open and honest than selective about what one chooses to share. This is of course a broad generalisation and worthy of several posts, and so it is a theme I may return to.

But mainly the whole process of pondering the issues surrounding blogging, and privacy, and the freedom to be who we are without censure made me want to blog again.

Then again, perhaps it is simpler still. Perhaps there are two types of women in the world: those who take photographs of their tampons and post them on the internet and those who don't.

Tread softly

2010-02-02T14:28:00.008+07:00

I am done with the American dream for a while. It was Dom's dream anyway - and a beautiful one for what that is worth. But it is exhausting trying to make dreams reality, when everything conspires against us. I have put work and study on hold in order to focus my energy and money on this one thing, but I should have realised that if it was meant to be it would have come easier than this, would not have required such sacrifices.

But when you love someone you try and give everything you have to realise their dreams. Now I sit and type and watch my beloved wolf who is flaked out on the bed, drained of energy and hope. It is easier for me, I don't have children who miss me and I am used to this rootless gypsy existence. But he will learn or I will learn to let him go.

After a pause to let the windblown leaf of my imagination settle, I can go back to the British Council jobs board and consider my options in a concrete way - the Middle East, Sri Lanka, or back to Bangkok. Or possibly I should do that PGCE that I have been promising myself for years. The world is ours, as long as it is not (currently) America.

Thus the clarity of my new header. I am focusing on Northern Thailand right now.

I am so sorry Dom, I trod on your dreams.

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats

Persistence

2010-01-26T18:48:00.004+07:00

At last I am back. There is a story behind my absence... and I don't just mean a steady stream of excuses. If you cast your cursor back to my very first post you will recall that the whole reason I started this blog was because I bough a sexy new phone that could publish directly to blogger. I had previously been a wordpress fan, but that little bit of functionality persuaded me to switch and I am glad I did for many reasons.

However it turned out that the set up of the phone / blog connection was dependent on my SIM card. A SIM card I lost in England this Christmas (Dom's fault).

Of course I could have got a new SIM card with my old number, it is a relatively simple process, except it isn't if your old package is registered in your ex-husband's name and requires you to contact your ex-husband and ask him to send you a signed photocopy of his ID card.

So I bought a new SIM card. Which, it turns out after I had bought it, didn't have automatic internet access. Or MMS for that matter. So I got the leaflet on how to register for these 'economical value-added services' and attempted to register. Of course I was connected to an automatic selection system that was all in Thai, and although I thought I had hit all the right buttons, I couldn't be sure and the outcome was a resounding FAIL when I attempted to publish to my blog.

But I didn't give up. Today I took my phone to dtac and asked them to set me up with MMS and email. I felt vindicated when it took them 20 minutes, as there was some issue connecting my phone to the internet even when I was registered. They were great by the way... they persisted too, even when I am sure they were tempted to throw my phone at me and give me the happy smile, along with the explanation free "sorry cannot" that I begin to dread when dealing with Thai services.

I then had to set up a NEW blog before transferring the connection to this blog. But I got there with persistence.

Glorious persistence... maybe I will get to America in 2010 after all.

And, yes that's my bra in the photo - isn't it a wonderful colour?

test

2010-01-05T21:26:00.002+07:00

This is a test, I hope I pass.

Sunday morning 9am

2009-12-13T15:15:00.003+07:00

Well Brandy thinks this one doesn't need text, but I am gonna give it some anyway.

I wanted this to be my 'I'm okay' picture. I didn't announce that I was pregnant because I knew, being 39 and this being my first baby, I was a high risk for miscarriage. And it happened this week - just two months into my pregnancy. But life goes on... I took this picture on my first morning back at work. The lovely morning sunlight, a cat lazing on the roof behind the British Council. I have Wolf and a wonderful life.

And I'm okay.

Advent

2009-12-05T08:57:00.003+07:00

Every year mum sends me an advent calendar.

Correction: Previously, every year mum and dad sent me an advent calendar, AND THIS YEAR mum sent me an advent calendar.

That sounds like a grammatical exercise, but it is in fact an exercise in restrained emotion. I will try very hard to have a good Christmas without dad, as it is what he would want. But it will be hard as even as I type this I have tears in my eyes.

Funny though eh? 39 years old and still opening those little windows.

Taa Very Much

2009-11-21T13:03:00.003+07:00

Ok this was an experimental post. Taa was showing me how I could actually send better quality images to my blog by taking a higher res picture. As lovely as Taa obviously is, I am not sure if those extra pixels are making a difference or not. I will keep experimenting.

Taa is incidentally our technology guy (not sure what his actual job title is). Being our technology guy is a thankless task, because he bears the brunt of all our complaints about slow net, faulty speakers and spastic IWB pens. He never takes it personally and always comes to work smiling (even when hungover), which is an amazing feat.

If I were in his shoes I would almost certainly burn down the building and stand in the smoldering ashes screaming "How is your bandwidth now, motherfuckers?!?"

So, thank you Taa. We love ya.

Loy krathong

2009-11-02T22:27:00.003+07:00

Doesn't our house look lovely? We are not big Loy Krathong fans. At its heart it is a lovely festival, held on the full moon of the 12th month of the Thai lunar Calendar people float little floral rafts (usually banana leaves, orchids and jasmine with incense and a candle) on to the river to symbolise the releasing of all the bad luck and negativity from the previous year. In Chiang Mai they also set aloft hundred and thousands of Khom Fai (floating paper lanterns) which fill the sky every night for a week. However to our sensitive western ears the festival is ruined by an endless barrage of fireworks and firecrackers, and the raucous music of the riverside parties - and as we live by the river we really get the worst of it.

But the lovely part for us is that every year Fon brings us a bag of tiny candles to set around the perimeter of our house. We can handle the romantic flicker of candles.

Looks just like a house filled with love doesn't it?

Happy campers

2009-10-13T10:00:00.008+07:00

At 10 a.m. today Lauren, Sarah & Jip (l2r) got in the office car laden down with spendy games, name tags, future board, twister, story books, a large yellow elephant and assortment of other items essential for a positive camping experience. If you are planning to go camping with 20, er 18 little kids bent on creating havoc and learning English in Northern Thailand that is. I wish them luck and hope they have fun.

Almost exactly 5 years ago my first mission for the British Council was accompany two other extraordinary teachers (Tash & Mark) and one other enthusiastic teaching assistant (Ju) on a similar camp but this time on Thailand's eastern seaboard.

So much has changed in that 5 years - mostly for the better (I have Wolf in real life now), but not completely. I was very sure of myself professionally then, now I am not. Although this uncertainty feels pretty scary I believe it is a necessary phase which will enable to me to move on to something new. People keep asking me what, but I have no idea - and I don't want to have any idea. I need to break free of this before I can envisage that, otherwise my that will be this in another form.

Anyway, today is my last day as Academic Manager at the British Council and here I am balanced between two camps. Balanced between the past and the future. A beginning and an end.

Poised.

Maybe that means I am ready to start the 'now', the 'being in the moment-ness' that Dom manages to do with effortless grace and I battle with continually. I have long suspected that my moment is smaller and more slippery than Dom's - but maybe his 'moment shoes' have better treads. More traction.

Yes, I need this time to work on my soul soles.

Dance in the pain

2009-09-14T15:03:00.004+07:00

For the last month or so, when not dragging my gimpy sciatica stressed left leg around the British Council, I have been mainly resting in bed. Me in bed makes Roso happy and here she is snuggling into my hair and telling me everything is gonna be okay. Hers isn't the only positive message I have been receiving. A few days ago a friend posted the following on the northlands:

"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass but learning to dance in the rain".

Simple bordering on trite yet it struck a chord. I have been waiting for the storm to pass for a while now and instead the clouds seem to get darker, and more full of rain. As much as I have loved it in the past 13 years I am ready to leave Thailand. Yet emigration to the US is as elusive as it was 3 months ago and will remain so until we find a co-sponsor. In the meantime friends are starting new lives of the kind I desire - Ian (who will one day I am sure be Yorkshire Ian) in England and Richard in his poetic Portuguese farmhouse, and I look at my grey skies and sigh.

What exactly do I want? (It helps I believe to be specific when wishing, whether on stars or rainclouds). I want to own a house with Wolf. I want to live in a place without needing a visa. I want to belong to somewhere - and not feel like an interloper or a tourist. I want to work but have nothing to do with TEFL teachers (sorry guys). I want to be able to ride a bike and walk without being drenched in sweat. I want large skies, fresh air, nature, fours seasons and peaches and raspberries in the summer. I want to feel well and full of inspiration.

I also want to stop wanting. Waiting isn't the problem, wanting the waiting to end is.

In the meantime I need to get past the debilitating stress that is filling my body with pain and my soul with anxiety. I need to believe that finishing work in October and facing an uncertain future won't kill me. I need to dance in the rain.

So the first small step to dancing is to tell myself our wishes will come true. We will get to Minnesota and the second North (the first being Northern Thailand) of my imagining will become real. Just bear with me, okay?

Hey lady, can I have my balls back please?

2009-09-02T12:29:00.006+07:00

When we got Spike we always intended to neuter him. With the cats it had been a quick and simple decision having watched them endure several apparently agonizing 'seasons' with the attendant weight loss and yowling we had them both spayed quite young. However Spike got to the snipable age, and yet we delayed. Why?

Well he seemed to enjoy his balls, hours were dedicated to licking them - and apart from a tendency to mark his territory unless watched closely his sexuality was never troublesome. He didn't hump legs or furniture and was happy with an occasional romantic evening with Twist, his love puppy. Additionally one of the things we treasure about him is his attitude - if we cut off his balls, might he be a bit less, well - ballsy?

Then our vet, Chotana Pet Hospital, announced a half price neutering deal for the month of September, and obviously it was too good to miss. I had Spike booked in within hours of the announcement and 1st September was his big day.

Last night, after spending the evening with a sad and sore post-op babydog, I went to bed in tears having decided I had done a terrible thing. Okay so it is almost certainly healthier, and yes it is more convenient (for us at least); but the sense that my decision had been predominantly economic, and in making such a decision I had taken something that was not mine to take, was unbearably heavy. Why do I soul search so? Why didn't I feel this guilt with the cats? Has society taught me to value masculinity so much more than femininity? Am I more comfortable making decisions based on wombs as they are my territory while Spike's testicles are from a mysterious world whose land I trespassed into?

Anyway. It is done now, and I will have to learn to live with my decision - as will Spike. I am sure I will find my conscience soothed when his empty pouch looks less like an angry swollen blackberry and his eyes look less woeful and accusing. In the meantime, in remembrance of things past I leave you with... Spike (August 2009). Babydog.

Arrivals

2009-08-28T13:05:00.004+07:00

This isn't going to be quite the post I expected it to be when I took the photo. I snapped the doors of Chiang Mai airport's international arrival hall while waiting for Dom to return from his visa run in Malaysia fully expecting to make a post about the joys of reunion.

While I waited I read bits from The Wisdom of Yoga by Steven Cope. I am reading it a second time in the hope that exposure to yoga, even passively, will make my leg feel better; which is a revealing comment in itself about the current poverty of my spiritual and physical health. I was reading about Duhkha, the cycle of suffering that we experience through continual craving, aversion or delusion. The author gives an example of longing for a banana muffin, getting and eating the muffin and mourning the fact that the pleasure is lost as soon as the last morsel passes our lips. There is so much pain around this experience - found in the longing and mourning stages that it is not worth the scant pleasure of eating, especially as we rarely eat with full attention to the pleasure anyway.

This is relevant just wait.

So Dom left on Tuesday and from the moment his taxi drove away I longed for the moment when he returned. Longed. Painfully. I hated every minute away from him. And as far as I know he felt the same. I took a photo of these doors as they were where I would see him first. I didn't want to capture him walking through them - then I would be in joyful reunion mode not blog mode. I wanted to share with you my anticipation.

This could have been titled Anticipation.

It could have been titled Anticlimax.

As I got my first glimpse of him he gave me a big beaming smile but behind that smile I could see tension. "What's wrong love?" I asked as soon as he released me.

And so began the mourning for the moment.

He was tired; he'd been up since 5; his flight was delayed; he'd been given a centre seat; the lazy cabin staff hadn't given out arrival cards and he'd had to queue (or scrimmage) for them upon landing. Not wishing to be outdone I joined in, I bitched about work (I won't elaborate... too many of my readers work with me and don't need to know what I complained about but my list was as long as his). By the time we were sitting in the taxi we were each staring out of the window rather than at each other and getting lost in our individual dissatisfaction with the world and our crappy experience of it.

It was then I realised I had passed the moment I had been looking forward to for 72 hours. It was over. We were together again but instead of celebrating that moment joyfully we had slipped effortlessly back into the trough we have been sinking in for months now.

This isn't a relationship thing, with regard to each other Dom and I are as happy as we have always been - it is just the world we are out of sorts with. We are beyond ready to leave Thailand and held up by things out of our control. Dom especially needs to leave as I have seen him change from a joyful and vibrant embracer of life to an angry and critical grouch.

I won't go into to why we are at this stage right now, this post is long enough. I just wanted it on record. We too have dirty laundry.

Damn, I need a muffin.

Bye Rob

2009-08-27T00:17:00.004+07:00

As a teacher you try not to have favourite students and as an Academic Manager you try not to have favourite teachers. If I were the kind of person who was to flout this very sensible guideline and pick a favourite, I could do worse than Rob (pictured, left). He is one of the most talented teachers I have ever had the good fortune to observe, and one of the most laid back and self-reliant staff members I have had the good fortune to... well sit back and watch him not need me.

He also has fab taste in music and cool tattoos, so it is very lucky that any temptation to stick a gold star on his forehead and make it official has been removed by his leaving to go and work in Poland. The staff room at Chiang Mai is a little poorer for his absence, but I am sure the one in Poland is much richer for his presence. Sharing the love is important too, isn't it? Good luck Rob, enjoy life and embrace new experiences.

In other news, this photo was taken in such poor lighting conditions that I felt the need to throw all of my meagre in-phone photo editing skills at it in order to render it even marginally useable. Apart from tweaking the light balance, I added a "painting" filter. I just adore what it did to Max's eyebrows!

Someone to watch over me

2009-08-06T08:08:00.004+07:00

There is nothing like waking a bit earlier than your loved one and watching them sleep to make you realise how blessed you are. It doesn't happen to me very often, I love my bed and Dom usually has to drag me out of it by my feet, but this morning - thanks to a powercut that woke me up and set me worrying about a range of things from the water pump to the third world debt - I got my moment. I also discovered I was not alone in my watchfulness. Lily is very much a daddy's girl and I found her nestled in the crook of Dom's arm, leaning against his chest and enjoying the rise and fall of his sleeping body as the morning sun warmed her whiskers.

That's cool, I can share the moment.

Sick wolf

2009-08-02T19:46:00.004+07:00

Dom enduring the hardships of hospital life. The nurse on the left places an ice pack on his forehead, the nurse on the right gets ready to take blood samples while he chooses his meals for the rest of the day.

Yeah, Dom got a bacterial infection that had him Chiang Mai Ram hospital for just over 24 hours (the time it takes to absorb 3 bags of saline solution). We were worried for a while that it might be the dreaded H1N1, after a night of fever and chronic diarrhea, alarming blood pressure and high pulse rate. The doctor however reassured us that it was probably bacterial and once in hospital tests confirmed that. He was badly dehydrated though which is why they opted to keep him in. Luckily I got to stay with him as Thailand hospitals are very reasonable and our health insurance allowed him to have his own "VIP" room on the international ward though, as you can see from the picture, the bed is Thai sized. Poor baby.

Um Klim Kalika-yei Namaha

2009-07-13T17:29:00.008+07:00

Rather than uploading an image from my phone today I thought I would share something I painted and then manipulated using a simple hue colouriser. Kali, the best goddess in the world for when you are having one of those "don't mess with me" moments - and every spiritual journey has those moments I am sure.

She has been sitting neglected on my draughting table for some months now. So I dusted her off finished her and took some photos (photos of paintings are always a bad idea unless you have good lighting, but I wanted to capture the essence rather than a faithful reproduction so I am willing to ignore the glare of the flash if you are).

I have an interesting relationship with my artistic talent, I neglect it horribly and yet I am proud of it. Proud at least of what it could be and too afraid of failing to really explore what I am capable of producing artistically.

Anyway today we have a glimpse of a side I usually keep hidden. Be nice or I will set my 'Goddess of Don't Mess' on you.

Spike modelling his cage.

2009-06-23T13:39:00.003+07:00

In preparation for moving to the US I have asked for a quote for shipping the animals. The thought of sending them with the movers scares me, I would rather have them accompany us however the thought of arriving in the States with 2 cats and a dog but no home and a 2 day road journey to Minnesota is daunting in the extreme. So I want to know how much my other option is going to cost.

The movers asked for size and weight of animals and dimensions of cage. I just took this picture to see if this cage would be okay. The answer is no, we need to buy new airline compliant cages - I'm cool with that, it is safer.

Anyway, although I only uploaded this from my phone to my blog for convenience (to send the photo to the movers) it got a comment so I will leave it. In fact I will do more than that - I will use the post to answer the question.

Mita goes crazy if you put her in a cage. I sometimes have to put her in one when travelling and she always throws up all over it. It's just too stressful for her.

And an unrelated question: is he yappy? Mat says every single chi...thingy is yappy and that's why he doesn't want one. I'm hoping you'll say he's well behaved and there's no reason why we shouldn't get one >_>

Spike loves his cage because that is where he sleeps every night, and has done since he was a puppy. If he gets tired when he is pootling around in the day (on the rare occasions we let him do his own thing) he will often sneak into his cage for a nap. He also runs into the cage and sits and waits for a treat after he has 'been' outside.

And he never yaps. If he barks it is for a good reason, to alert us to a possible intruder (the maid - who he adores, the water deliver guy - who he doesn't) or because he has heard another dog bark in distress or anger. But he will bark once or twice and once we acknowledge his voice he is quiet. He never does that pointless endless yapping - but that is because he knows we listen to him. I think Chihuahuas (and all small dogs) are often spoilt rotten at first but neglected later - when the novelty of owning a new baby has worn off. We love him to pieces, but we rarely treat him like a little dog. And from his point of view he is as big as a bear and as brave as a lion... and of course like everyone in our household he has strong streak of wolf in him. RWAAAHHHHRRR!!

Love and marriage

2009-06-12T22:03:00.002+07:00

It is hard to imagine a more unassuming wedding day. Dom and I got up, showered, dressed and hopped on the bike to go to Khun Nulek's office (Khun Nulek, right in the picture, is our fixer). We sat around a while waiting for her to arrive and when she did she made a few copies and then we all got in her car and drove to the Sansai District Office.

There we took a number and waited.

People arrived and sat and took care of business (birth, marriage, death, divorce, family book registration, and ID card all in one crazy little world). There was no air-con, but ceiling fans whirred slowly so as not to disturb the paperwork. A kid sitting next to Dom drank a cartoon of milk and then puked on the floor and the ceiling fan obligingly stirred the smell into the air. Next to me an old lady slept - sprawled across the bench. Her business done, she left and we were able to shuffle right, away from the sick and wait some more.

Eventually it was our turn. We moved from bench to desk and Khun Nulek and the other lady pictured laboriously filled in our paperwork, first by hand, then on computer - which was printed, and then by hand again.

They gave up part of their lunch to marry us and joked about their pay rate O-free rather than OT (though I am sure the 2,000 baht I saw our fixer slip into an envelope in the car helped soothe the rumbling stomachs).

By 12.30 I was Mrs Dumais. My husband and I went for lunch, popped home to show Fon our pink lotus edged certificate and then we went to work.

It was, simply, one of the happiest days of my life.

Sometimes

2009-06-09T00:07:00.005+07:00

Sometimes, despite all your best efforts, it rains. Sometimes you lose sight of sky, sun and hills and the view is obscured by a shifting wave of grey. Wet cobwebs, close enough touch (net curtains soaked in seawater), close enough to taste (an old dusty picture frame with a zing like the tines of a fork). Sometimes the rain on your face smells of salt sorrow and regret.

Sometimes you have days like this and you just have to let it fall.

Be yourself

2009-06-05T22:52:00.007+07:00

I'm trying to embrace my inner demon. Well, kind of. After yet another OOE (overly emotional event) chez Northlands I was grumbling to a Foxy friend who had inquired how my Wolf was feeling, post drama. My grumble was:

Wolf is dealing with it much better than I am. He has one burst of anger and all the girlies are instantly pm'ing him and telling him they love him and didn't mean to hurt HIM or make HIM angry. And he is ok. I have one burst of anger and feel like the bad tempered bitch who would have no members if I didn't have my adorable Wolf to come along and clean up the mess I made.

To which she replied:

You are a bad tempered bitch.

I think she was joking but I know it is how I am viewed by some. Probably. Sometimes I wish people would just TELL you what they thought of you. Not out of some egotistical desire for affirmation but because it would be so much easier to have a more complete and realistic self-image that way. I mean I role-played the Goddess of the Underworld for so long (years) I absorbed aspects of her into my actual identity. It can change a woman, I still have to remind myself I don't command legions of demonic undead everytime I log on. I struggle with virtual in combination with realistic.

I have another friend (online) who deals with several... layers of identity. I still don't really understand where they come from, but I do think role-playing extensively over a period of years can damage your (mental) health. Playing a role reaches the parts real life doesn't reach and fucks them up, bad. I briefly flirted with a new RP character called Lolah Magic (actually another incarnation of the Goddess, but a mortal one) who was a lesbian motorbike riding thief hiding out in a convent (yes she was a lesbian nun - I'm not afraid to embrace porno-cliché). She still keeps me awake at night. But, really, thank God I never got the chance to explore that identity. I would be scarred for life, and possibly the afterlife.

I touched on the nature of identity (particularly online) in my studies. My tutor said "I am very careful to be myself online" and while I appreciated the value and sincerity of that assertion, it did occur to me that was possibly easier if you hadn't enter the interwebs through the dark and mysterious sidedoor that is role-play.

Incidentally, today's picture is a drawing done by one of my colleague's primary learners. When he showed it to me I looked at is nervously - wondering if this child had planted a camera in my bathroom. Aside from the green legs and banana feet, this is almost exactly how I look in the morning, in the shower, before I have become fully human.

I have a fetish...

2009-06-03T19:07:00.007+07:00

...for stationery.

And like many other fetishes worth having Thailand is a good place to indulge myself. I am a real connoisseur too – I don’t just get turned on by post it notes, glue sticks, multi-coloured bull-dog clips and high-lighter pens I like it ALL.

For example these are a few of my favourite kinks: old-fashioned financial ledgers – lined for double entry, with lickable gummed labels and 100’s of individually numbered pages; full sets of graphite pencils that range from 9H-to 9B; manila envelopes of all sizes and sticky labels – round square and rectangular; acetate sheets for making OHP transparencies (though of course I never do that); index cards of all sizes (white and coloured); blocks of Chinese ink with grinding stones (and bottles of ink too, for the days you really don’t have time to make from scratch) and Chinese brushes with fake bamboo handles; pots of latex glue; and bags of plaster of paris and super hero rubber moulds; patties of polymer clay; drawing pins with transparent triangular knobs; gold rings for binding papers that look like pirates’ earrings; mechanical pencils with tiny boxes of lead of varying diameters; putty rubbers, ink rubbers, scented rubbers, rubbers for the end of your pencil, and retractable rubbers in the shape of a pen; craft knives that look like scalpels; tape of every colour and width - transparent, magic, glittering, canvas, brown gummed (for taping wet watercolour paper onto a board) and masking; staplers; holepunches; scissors; paper paper paper; notebooks and pens…

…and of course you must buy this pen to go with that notebook because that notebook absolutely MUST be written on by this pen and if you don’t understand that you may as well just stop reading now and wait for tomorrow’s post.

And of course in this also I have found my perfect match – for a kink is just a repressed and shameful secret unless you can share it with your lover. Thanks to Dom I own things I would have never bought for myself: a guillotine for precision paper slicing; a pencil sharpener that you can attach to the desk; whole entire POTS of pens; BOXES of HB pencils with unsharpened ends… yes you understand, when it comes to private stationery use Dom thinks like an office supplier.

We are even thinking of moving into lamination.

Full circle

2009-06-02T13:51:00.011+07:00

I remember my first night in Thailand. I had come with my then future but now ex husband for a two-week holiday from Singapore to meet his family, his country. I stood in the window of our Bangkok YMCA hotel room (it was almost classy 16 years ago) looking out onto a busy, pre-skytrain Sathorn Road, crammed with gaudy taxis, tacky billboard ads for M150, beggars on footbridges, the ugly mess of tangled wires and I said, "promise you will never ask me to live here".

Three years later we moved into an apartment across the river in Lardya, Thonburi. Our apartment block was next door to Thonburi comedy cafe and I think most of the other inhabitants were hookers. We lived in a box with a bed, a toilet and a balcony that we could take it in turns to stand on. Noi bought us a little t.v. that I watched but couldn't understand. I remember being mystified by a segment of a comedy show that appeared to revolve around a transgendered juggling dwarf. I expressed my (finely trained) western scorn and Noi did his best to explain why it was funny. I didn't get it.

I hated Thailand for almost four years and then one day I woke up and realised I was in love with it. The ugly mess of tangled wires and tacky billboard ads for M150 had become invisible. The gaudy taxis filled the streets with rainbows and I didn't need anyone to explain to me why transgendered juggling dwarves were funny. To clarify, they still didn't amuse me, but the world had expanded and there was plenty of room for those who found dwarves (and other birth defects) funny and I to co-exist.

About that time a woman I loved decided to return to the UK with her husband and son after about 7 years in Thailand. She was a friend and hero to me: she had lived in Isarn and spoke Thai fluently. Everyone adored her and she had, until recently, adored everyone. When I asked her why she had decided to leave she said "I have to go before I start to hate it". I didn't get it.

Nine years later. Today. I get it. My connection to Thailand was severed with the divorce. I try to love it with the passion I once had but the best I can manage it lukewarm respect. Yes, it is lovely and diverse, the people can be wonderful, the food is great and living here affords me a fantastic lifestyle. But today I sat in Icon Plaza while Dom was talking to our favourite tech guy, sipping a latte, looking at the film poster pictured above - and I experienced the hot flooding return of scorn for a society that found transgendered juggling dwarves (and other birth defects) funny.

I expect I'll start seeing the ugly mess of tangled wires and billboard ads for M150 again soon.

Motion

2009-06-01T19:52:00.004+07:00

"Keep the paint up, and the rubber down!" Author unknown.

Tonight as we drove to dinner I tried to take a few pics that capture the sense of moving through the streets of Chiang Mai on the bike. I wanted to capture that because although I don't particularly enjoy it now I am sure it is something I will look back on fondly.

A drive through one hundred smells: rain-drenched tarmac, exhaust fumes, incense, dried squid, roasting chillies, jasmine, fetid canal, sun scorched earth. A drive through one hundred near deaths: the idiot on the Honda Dream talking on the phone, the songthaew driver swerving across lanes to pick up a passenger, the Isuzu running a red light, the boy on a monkey bike trying to scare the farang, the jealous guy on his girlfriend's baby pink Fino.

At least I hope it's his girlfriend's.

Right now I spend most of the time hating this mode of motion, the lunacy of Thai drivers, the stress, Dom's anger. But I know one day I will remember this and smile.

Openness?

2009-05-31T08:42:00.009+07:00

Well when I said I was going to blog about openness I thought I would have something important to say. Something profound and meaningful. On the cusp of a crisis of conscience I was faced with a dilemma – do I impose on myself the kind of diplomatic censorship I accept as my due on the Northlands? There I am providing a service to a community and were I to be open there it would be a community of one, so I hold my tongue (mostly) and give others the floor. On the rare occasions that I have opened my mouth I have lost members but then I closed it again and they came back.

Recently I have been confronted with my blog’s power to offend and possibly hurt others. As this struck me I felt I had a choice:
1) I stick with the ethos of openness and honesty
2) I consider poor passersby who might read and (rightly or wrongly) see themselves in my words and moderate my tone
3) I stop blogging

I actually went offline while I considered this.

Oddly enough at the same time others in my blogging circle were faced (whether or not they saw it in the same light) with a similar dilemma. How much responsibility do you have over what you write (and read) in the Great Online? Should we guard against the temptation to be ruder and more obnoxious in our opinions here than we would face to face? Are we entitled to disregard the feelings of others just because we are a channel they have willingly tuned into? Is it so much easier to be cruel when you don’t have to watch your victim’s reaction; see their face fall or watch a shadow of annoyance and anger flicker across their eyes? Of course it is. But, if the courage of online anonymity or distance is false courage then what of e-openness - is that false too?

Yeah, and I thought I had something profound to say. Ha! How ridiculous I was a week ago.

Or maybe I have. Kind of. Just not in the way I expected.

As often happens I find it easier to make a point with the help of an image. You see that honest and open photo of me at the top of this post? That is me at work today… early Sunday morning, no make up, looking at the camera saying “This who I am, as I am, no frills and no fakery”.

Do you know how many attempts it took to get an image I liked?

Seven.

How open is that?

Really, if we wanted to be open and honest, the internet is the last place we would choose to express ourselves. We are here because we are attention-whores doing our best to make ourselves look good, or at least interesting.

In conclusion? Believe nothing. Openness is a myth. Honestly.

Negativity

2009-05-20T18:09:00.011+07:00

(Don't panic, this isn't a post about Dom - I just used his negative image as a visual metaphor, he is one of the least negative people I know - in fact this is about me learning to be more like him.)

Negativity is traditionally a stage in a process rather than an outcome in itself. It has value, but it is rare to see it replace positivity as a final product. As a negative is a developmental step in photography, negativity is a developmental step in the evolution of the psyche. In the growth of who we are.

Sadly it is a rather addictive step and one I am only just starting to understand. I have recently had reason to reflect on this because I have noticed a couple of important relationships in my life have been based, to a varying degree, around negativity. The common ground was dislike of people or situations (and the pleasure derived from dwelling on and examining that dislike) and we (I and the two theys) were equally culpable, co-dependent even, in our negativity. Oh yes, occasionally one or other of us would make a break for the fresh air and sunlight of a positive outlook but the other would be sure not to let too many days pass before we dragged our newly optimistic partner back into the slough of despond.

But as alluring as this addictive form of relationship is, I can no longer make a place for it, at least when we have through neglect allowed the negativity to become the only common ground. Negativity is as ugly and poisonous as smoking (another addictive old friend whose time passed). If the relationships can't survive the transformation to positivity they aren't worth it and I won't mourn their loss.

As it stands now, although I have hope for both relationships, one I believe will survive and grow stronger and one I am afraid won't. I am not sure why that is so - maybe in one the negativity was an aberration while in another it was all we had. Maybe I sense one friend is just as sick of me of the taste of negativity whilst the other is not yet ready to give up their fix.

Parasites

2009-05-15T15:45:00.002+07:00

Nothing profund today, just an observation on the loveliness of orchids growing on a tree bough at the start of monsoon season. Actually the title is misleading as this type of orchid is actually an epiphyte and epiphytic organisms usually derive only physical support and not nutrition from their host. But I was thinking that parasites are seen as negative in that they take from the host whilst giving nothing in return. Unless of course we consider beauty to be of value.

Maybe this symbiotic relationship is like that of a beautiful young woman with a leafy sugar daddy. He gives support and she offers nothing but her loveliness.

Friendship, connectedness and the meaning of life

2009-05-13T16:32:00.014+07:00

"In Dzogchen, perceived reality is considered to be unreal."

Wikipedia entry on Reality in Buddhism

Sorry I am not in the mood for chronology and orderliness. I found this image on my phone today and what shocked by the memory of when and why I took it. As I mentioned in a previous post my dad died on April 13th... exactly a month ago today. Knowing he was ill, but not realising how little time he had left Dom and I had been to see him (and enjoyed a 2 week holiday in England) and had just returned to Thailand when he passed away. We couldn't both afford to return for the funeral so I went alone. Making the return trip to England only 4 days after being there under such dramatically different circumstances was one of the most surreal experiences I have ever had.

It went something like this.

From mum and dad's house with Dom: bus to Hucknall tram station, tram to Nottingham, train to London St Pancras, underground to Heathrow, flight to Bangkok, flight to Chiang Mai, taxi to our house.

From our house alone: Taxi to Chiang Mai airport, flight to Bangkok, flight to London heathrow, underground to London St Pancras, train to Nottingham, tram to Hucknall, bus to mum's house (notice the subtle difference).

The photograph above was taken during the journey stage indicated in bold.

Compare it to this image taken exactly 17 days earlier:

Ok so the angle is slightly different and there is a pane of glass between lens and the world in the first image but you get the idea, this is where only 17 days previously Dom and I had stood with Autumn and Warrick and posed for Jamie's photograph. I was happy, very happy with Dom and friends. The sun was shining and my dad was alive.

And thus, even though neither picture is of him in a sense (to me at least) Dad isn't 'in' the first image where as he most certainly is 'in' the second.

It is only one small step from understanding this to understanding, according to the teachings of Dzogchen he is equally in both. In fact the extent that he 'is' anything he is more than 'in' both - he IS both, as am I, and Dom, and Autumn, and Warrick and Jamie, behind the lens.

Our ultimate nature is all encompassing, "space that is aware".

And that is what I saw (but until now didn't understand) when I snapped the first photograph. Although I was alone, and hurting, and it was raining, and the grief for dad was so bad I could taste it - I turned my head, not even realising even where I was and saw the spot where 17 days earlier I had stood in happiness with friends and loved ones. And oddly enough I understood they were there still.

We had hung that brief moment on the spot for eternity, and I could see it.

And, as I am beginning to realise, so could dad.

Good things

2009-05-11T11:18:00.003+07:00

On the first day of our weekend (currently Monday) Dom and I celebrate being alive and in love with breakfast at the Blue Diamond Breakfast Club in Chiang Mai. This is a lovely place full of vitamins and good vibes run by a wonderful couple Nee and Eed. Dom always has a super omelette, in fact I think they start it as soon as they hear his bike turn the corner of the soi, as it just appears in front of him along with a gallon of orange juice and a bucket of fresh coffee. I usually have baa mee nam (noodle soup) though sometimes I vary it with banana pancakes or museli and yoghurt over a mountain of fresh tropical fruit.

More than breakfast I go there to absorb the atmosphere of wellness that the owners so generously fill their thriving business with. They are happy and successful because they are doing their thing... you know, how everyone has a thing - just some of us don't know what it is yet? I hope that by being in their world some of that attunement may rub off, and I will find my thing.

In the meantime I am simply content to be a part of their world and to gather inspiration, nourishment and hope from the good things they have created.

Killer bees

2009-05-08T22:30:00.003+07:00

This bees nest is in our garden. 4ft in length, at least 2ft deep I swear it wasn't there yesterday. I hate it, I hope it will be gone soon. I am scared to leave Spike outside while they are lurking - I mean when they decide to move it is going to be one hell of a swarm.

Disappointment

2009-05-07T11:16:00.006+07:00

I am not sure why I am so disappointed about this. I bought a photograph from one of our Northlands members, who is also a very talented young photographer. It started as an idea just to help her out as she was trying to get rid of old stock, and (I felt) needed the support, but I soon began to look forward to owning the striking image I had chosen. There was a bit of fuss at first as she noticed that the photo had a minor flaw but she was very thoughtful and reluctant to send it and so had another copy made for me which impressed me. However when the photo arrived, as you can see from the picture above, it was totally wrecked.

What irks is that it had been posted in a bubble wrap padded envelope with no supporting card. How can someone who is so proud of their art be so negligent? The image needed to be protected in tissue and at least an unbendable cardboard sheet slipped in, if not a slim box.

The fact that she wouldn't send out a flawed print, shows she clearly cares deeply about her work, but her unwillingness to take full responsibility for ensuring it arrived safely in my hands demonstrates possibly she has a some things to learn. When I told her about the damage (which in my eyes is complete - the image is beautiful, but this version of it is destined for the bin) she apologised and said maybe international post was "mean" as she hadn't had any problems sending work across the States in a padded envelope. Not an American problem, an international one, and therefore mine.

Our treasure

2009-05-02T12:43:00.002+07:00

And this blurry but very precious image is our first cache treasure. A 2007 Suncatcher Geocoin travelbug, and no we can't keep it. Its mission is to travel to sunny places so we will leave it in the next cache we find.

Our first cache

2009-05-02T12:30:00.003+07:00

Dom and I had our first foray into Geocaching today. Nothing to far or adventurous but fun non the less. Here is Dom at the site of our first cache site proudly displaying our new GPS. To think we were scoffing at GPS owners not 6 months ago. How things change.

Soul mates

2009-04-15T23:37:00.002+07:00

Sitting in Bangkok airport waiting to board the plane to return to England for my dad's funeral I was struck by the tenderness between this old Chinese couple. Admittedly grief had done the emotional equivalent of removing top few layers of skin leaving me open to every nuance, positive and negative that surrounded me. However this love touched me deeply. He had spread a newspaper over her to ward off the icy chill of the air con, opened his jacket to shield her eyes from the light and he held her hands, both of them - to reassure her that she could sleep, peaceful and safe under his protective gaze.

State of emergency

2009-04-13T12:10:00.002+07:00

(photo taken April 13, post made May 8) The streets are wet, not with rain but with water from 100 buckets and water-pistols. Bangkok was under a state of emergency (red shirts this time) but Chiang Mai was in the state of chaos that is the annual Thai New Year celebrations called Songkhran.

But in the end this was simply the day my dad died. Nothing more to be said.

The end?

2009-04-12T13:58:00.001+07:00

Firefox can't find the server at www.thenorthlands.net because our evil web hosts have done a disappearing act taking our beloved forum, blogs, galleries, years of posts not to mention three years' advanced webspace rental, with them.

I am here to be quietly miserable. Alone. Northlands' family has returned to its original HQ and what seems to be a bunker in times of crisis - Northlands Fantasy. But I don't really want to be there. That is the place Dom established with Kirk and Dan. I loved it. It is, after all, where we fell in love. But it isn't mine.

It is like having your 3 bedroomed home repossessed and having to move back into your lover's bachelor pad. Yeah, better than sleeping under a bridge. Marginally.

Don't know what to do. But in the meantime, I will be here, licking my wounds.

Die webspace depot. Die.

Baby dog enjoying some morning loving

2008-12-22T10:40:00.001+07:00

Must. Stop. Posting. Pictures. Of. Spike.

Really I do have a life.

He makes me do it.

My boys

2008-12-10T14:36:00.001+07:00

Dom. Spike. Love.

The labels say it all really.

Spot the puppy

2008-11-06T16:53:00.001+07:00

He is redonkulous, which is as you know, significantly more absurd than ridiculous.

New tattoo

2008-10-12T13:22:00.001+07:00

I love tattoos. This is my fourth - a wolf and raven totem. The artwork is based on a glass sculpture by Alano Edzerza, a Tahltan artist. For me it symbolizes us. Dom and I. Wolf and Goddess.

Got to keep him now.

Paul's leaving do

2008-10-12T13:15:00.001+07:00

Those who haven't left. Yet.

Goodbye Paul, we'll miss you!

2008-10-12T13:03:00.001+07:00

Paul is leaving. About time too. He has been at the British Council in Chiang Mai far too long. TEFL is a gypsy job and staying in one place for too long is unhealthy. You start noticing details like, how badly paid you are and how crap the job is. If you are going to get stuck you may as well get stuck in a regular life with a decent salary, a pension and all the 2.5 kids / mortgage accessories that go with it. If you choose TEFL you need to change the scenery often, ruthlessly and with no regrets.

New toy

2008-09-02T21:42:00.001+07:00

With much naughty potential!

Dom is such a perv, you have to love him.

The old ways

2008-08-14T00:46:00.001+07:00

Mum and dad are moving from my beloved childhood home. Times change. They are getting old and moving into a bungalow in Hucknall, closer to family. Their family: brothers, sisters. After all, what good am I (and my sentimental longing for my childhood) a useless child of 39 and half a world away? Thus the floor boards, and cardboard boxes. And this old typewriter which mum used to use to bang out dad's invoices.

When dad worked, when mum typed, when I was a child.

I rescued it from a charity shop end. When I have a home I will take it and keep it there.

Luminous beauty

2008-07-23T17:45:00.001+07:00

I have been reading, on the recommendation of a friend, A New Earth by Ekhart Tolle. Among the many lessons in this book. one stands out. The world as we perceive it is an illusion created by our thoughts. This little piece of enlightenment isn't Ekhart's - it is Buddhist.

I can illustrate it in this image. When I took and blogged this photo 6 months ago I named it 'luminous beauty' entranced by how the setting sun had lit the petals. As I revisit this blog today (April 12, 09) and am inspired to add some reawakening narrative my thoughts are less generous: 'meh give me the humble snowdrop anyday'.

You see I am a different person today. I am less in love with my Thai past and increasingly enamored by my American future. Ironically neither exist. They are both illusions I have painted over a present that has become as hard to find as the holy grail. The flowers (luminous orchids or humble snowdrops) are essentially invisible to me until I learn how to be present.

One day.

Now.

The Lily

2008-07-22T15:29:00.001+07:00

Sitting pretty

Lily is Roso's sister. A friend of ours had taken care of a stray while she had kittens and we agreed to take one (or possibly two) and someone else would take the third. We had the first choice and I immediately chose Lily. Roso betwitched Dom into choosing her by doing this cute thing of pretending to gaze up at him adoringly. Guys dig that.

The odd thing about cats is that you can pursuade yourself all you like that they are your pets, but give the situation even a modicum of objective relfection and it is so obviously untrue it is embarrassing. Cats own you.

Anyway, we'd had them for a few weeks when they traded owners for some private ~~female~~ feline reason. I became Roso's agent of evil and Dom became Princess Lily's adoring slave. Lily (like all women with taste) has a serious 'collector's' passion for wolves and so she naturally conquered Spike within days of sending us out to buy him. "Oh, are you two going shopping? Bring me a small male T'ing that will follow me around all day and look at me adoringly, even when I hit him. Hard. Repeatedly."

And we did.

Never underestimate a ~~woman~~ cat.

The Roso

2008-07-22T08:59:00.001+07:00

Givin' teh meen face

I awoke this morning and slowly opened my eyes to find this face inches from my own. This face with these eyes. I read somewhere that, unlike dogs, cats don't have facial expressions. They are however able to communicate without words, and the effect is the same as our smile, or frown or (as in this case) psychotic gaze. The thoughts Roso was downloading into my sleeping cerebral cortex went something like: 'You will do great evil in my name. You will conquer the world and call it Roso. Oh. And. By the way, get rid of T'ing'.

'T'ing' is Roso and Lily's name for Spike.

Don't ask how we know that.

Tree planting

2008-07-17T10:25:00.001+07:00

For the world or karma?

To celebrate Asalha Puja Day had a tree planting morning at Huay Tung Tao in Chiang Mai. A 'bit of a do' orgnaised by the local staff at work. I wasn't sure whether this was a merit making exercise or simply a chance to make the world a better place. Let's go with the latter, I can live with that.

An aside: for all the spiritual journeying I don't get merit making. I understand the need to quieten karma... like stilling the ripples on a pond. But to buy fish or turtles in order to release them perplexes me. The small lives wouldn't be trapped if there wasn't a market in the merit of their release. It is like making people sick in order to cure them.

Anyway we arrived to find sapplings leaning weakly in pre-dug holes. Which we lovingly (and then hastily as it began to rain) filled with chunks of gritty earth.

I didn't feel much better for it so I hope the world is feeling a little greener.

Garden glimpses 2

2008-07-16T16:17:00.001+07:00

Bird of Paradise

A bit flashy, these flowers are the egomaniacs of our garden. Lurid orange creatures shouting "Look at us, we are beautiful!". And they are, but no one likes a show off. I miss the delicate unassuming flowers of England: snowdrops, crocuses, violets, london pride, forget me nots, snapdragons and bluebells. Flowers that know that mid-shin is plenty high enough, that there is secret power in making people bend over to admire you. But deep down I think you get what you deserve. I deserve these gaudy tropical idiots, outrageous bougainvillea, dizzying frangipani - I am too robust for delicate blossoms. In the other(imaginary / parallel) life, where I remained in England and was a spinster with a houseful of cats I almost certainly had a garden full of hollyhocks.

Waist high and mad with colour.

Garden glimpses

2008-07-16T16:14:00.001+07:00

White orchids

I find it magical how flowers suddenly appear in my garden. One day I have a bunch of green and then suddenly there is a flower - brief and beautiful. Likewise I find Dom's utter indifference to flowers astonishing. How can someone so sensitive not be moved to find a small exquisite thing is sharing a moment of existence with us?

How can you cry at films and be blind to the fragile emotion of a flower?

New gadget alert

2008-07-01T17:53:00.000+07:00

Drawing Tablet

Dom thinks I am an artist so when he found a drawing tablet he urged me to get it. I have been looking at them for a few months off and on (more off). I don't know I feel less of an artist now than I ever have - but that may be a reaction to the fact that Dom decided to have faith in me as one. I am tired of the label that I briefly in a moment of false confidence agreed to. I don't understand the need to label. Artist. Writer. Like giving yourself the word makes any difference. Dom thinks by calling me an artist I will be one. I think an artist is a person who makes art. I don't. But hey I might with this new gadget.

Anyway, new gadget. Gadgets are good.

Foot massage

2008-06-28T16:38:00.001+07:00

Our Saturday treat

Almost every Saturday we go to Kad Suan Kaew after work and (after a Starbucks latte) get a foot massage. Dom was an addict from the very first massage and can't bear to go a week without a fix. I don't know how he will manage when we move away from massage land. I am more ambivalent. It bothers me that someone is able to put me soundly to sleep by pressing the 'soul' of my foot. I hate feeling like I am waking from the dead as I rouse myself at the end of the massage. I also don't know what good it is doing. But it feels powerful, in a strange way. It is one of those things I enjoy, but mostly I do it for Dom because for whatever reason - I suspect he just likes attention from women (even old ones) and takes a wolf-like pleasure in being petted - he loves it.

And I love him.

Morning coffee

2008-06-27T10:59:00.001+07:00

At Wawee

When we feel we have obscenely over-patronised Starbucks we come to Wawee. We love coffee, well Dom loves coffee and I have a love/hate relationship with it - at least in its fresh incarnation. In this picture Dom is hiding behind his coffee cup because we have had an argument. We do this a lot of two people who are self-proclaimed soul mates. The reasons are legion and I won't go into them in this post but it is worth noting. We are in love but we don't have the idyllic relationship some people assume (possibly in response to our projection). We tend to keep our dirty laundry private - but it does exist.

Basketful after basketful.

I really can't believe...

2008-06-26T15:44:00.001+07:00

...Dom and I work here

So the previous picture was taken from the first (US second floor) just beyond that corner room (which is Jon, my boss's, office). I do feel privileged to work in such a gorgeous environment but then again I think that the beauty makes up for the fact that I can only derive moderate enjoyment out of my job. Nothing to do with the organisation or the usual moans and groans about TEFL. But I am a manager of a group of people who want nothing more than to be left alone. The are great people who can and do wonderfully well without me, but they are happy where they are. They are in such harmony with this building. They want a manager who is willing to do what they want when they want it done, but who otherwise minds their own managerial business. Whereas I really need to work with people, or more importantly situations where change is needed - I loved managing start ups for Bell and have never really recovered from the exhilaration. It is a daily conflict of interests in the loveliest of surroundings.

But at least we make a great postcard.

Work...

2008-06-26T11:06:00.001+07:00

...looks so nice when the room is empty

This is the view from my desk, looking down the long thin length of the teachers' room. The British Council in Chiang Mai is in an old Thai style house. Creaky wooden floors and shutters. But is it as empty as it looks? About a month ago, I was walking across that very piece of floor you see in the picture when a 'ghost' moved through me - just at the point of passing the chair on the right. I am not Dom, I don't 'do' dead people... but that was unmistakable - the sense that someone walked through my very space. I felt where they began and where they ended. I sensed their puzzlement as they turned and looked for their ghost as I looked for mine. No malice, no sadness, no haunting "but I don't want to be dead"ness of the cliched restless spirit. Just someone going about the business in another plane or time, but sharing our space.

Altogether a rather lovely first contact with the otherside.

More Spikeyness

2008-06-25T21:09:00.001+07:00

Doing the cute face

He is actually ridiculous in his mastery of cute faces, because it is clearly just so much ham... designed especially to maximize the amount of attention, loving and treats he can wheedle from us. He even has Dom giving him people food (unheard of) and letting him lick clean empty yoghurt pots and cereal bowls. He has even slowly but inexorably won over the cats; although Roso manages to retain a semblance of puppy-indifferent dignity - at least when we are watching.

Spike

2008-06-24T19:08:00.001+07:00

Aka baby dog, the pike

We don’t like small dogs. We like big ones: Siberian Huskies; Great Danes; Irish Wolfhounds.

Wolves.

Spike conned us.

We were walking past a pet-shop in the car park of Kad Suan Kaew shopping mall when he produced a flourish of attitude. He woofed and stomped in his food bowl (possibly it was dinner time) and stood there all energy and focus. We were smitten.

We went into the mall and sat in Pizza Company, amidst cheese and slice, listing the variety of reasons why we shouldn’t have a dog, before returning downstairs and buying him.

For weeks Dom couldn’t say the word Chihuahua. Spike (who spent about 24 hours named Viking but it wouldn’t stick) was ‘a mixed breed’ to anyone who enquired (and many did). But he patiently taught us to be proud of him regardless of size – and now we are happy to declare to anyone who will listen: we have a Chihuahua!

The place we currently call...

2008-06-24T16:36:00.001+07:00

...home

Of course home is also where the heart is, but this little corner of northern Thailand is where we lay our heads if not our hats.

Apologies for the cramped image; large house + small soi = not enough space to take a photo. I think this is the largest space I have ever lived in: three bedrooms, three bathrooms (four if you count the maid's room which is full of dismantled bed as we don't have a live in maid), large living room, kitchen and laundry room. It is detached with a small but florabundant garden.

The house is a stone's throw from the river Ping, which is great until it bursts it banks. Luckily that hasn't happened in our tenure. So far.

I am a real home person so my roosting place is quite important to me. Dom would live happily in a box. I could... but would rather not and I try not to compromise even though renting. Admittedly, everywhere has a little bit of compromise, this is rather inconvieniently located and is very unfortunately next door to an incinerator. Had we known this we would probably not signed the contract. But the house itself is perfect - a little big for two (when we were making the decision about where to live we were hoping for guests) but with the cats and puppy scampering round it is definitely home.

For now.

Your new phone cost...

2008-06-24T01:54:00.001+07:00

...how much?

In truth, Dom's shocked face wasn't a reaction to the cost of my new phone (Sony Ericsson S500i, 7,990 baht plus an extra 1,500 for a 2 gig memory upgrade). He fully supports my spendthrift urges especially when it comes to gadget aquisition. He has been "encouraging" me to buy a new phone for months and in fact it was he who made the actual purchase this time, while I was at work.

So this image has an element of poetic license (see quote/unquote) as it enabled me to introduce the new phone + photo-blog theme.

What actually prompted Dom's expression was me, post dinner (Art Cafe, Tha Phae gate. Her: avacado sandwich on 5 grain bread with cottage fries and a diet coke Him: Open faced chilli-burger and a large Heineken) casually playing with my phone while waiting for the bill . I scrolled through the functions, set the camera raised the lens pointed it at Dom and said conversationally (as one is able to do with someone with whom one is deeply intimate): "Oh, we have to go home soon - I need to poo".

So that's the face I captured...

"OMG you said poo!"