Mango Sticky Rice

We are writing to you all today perched on a small plastic folding stool decorated with small bears and lemons, purchased from 7-Eleven. Every 7-Eleven in Thailand, as well as all large homes and restaurants, have a pristine tile platform with four spirit houses, several small Buddha statues, flowers, and a photo of the belated king. Fascinating to be in an environment of devout Buddhism.

In the moist morning air of Chaeng Watthana Clarissa sits on the plastic stool by the lush green flowering plants with bright orange and yellow flowers, attempting to mimic the patterns on the leaves in her journal. To her right is the cardboard box that the new toilet my grandmother bought for us came in. On the front side it says “American Standard, comfort clean” then at the very bottom in smaller writing, “Made in Thailand” and between the two I’ve written “Nong Sai loves Grandma” in Thai, copied from google translate. Sai is my Thai name, meaning sand. Here, the only person who calls me Alice is Clarissa. Feels good to go by a different name.

We arrived in Thailand tired and disoriented at 4am, drove 40 minutes to my grandmother’s house in Chaeng Watthana and unloaded the two massive suitcases my mother packed full of gifts, chocolates, shoes, anti-wrinkle cream, hand soap, coach bags, and pistachios. Then we took cold showers and crawled into bed, closing the blinds knowing the sun would be up in a couple hours. I predicted we would be up soon after but alas when I finally rolled over to check the time it was 5pm and we had slept through the whole day. We rushed to put on our clothes and catch the remaining sunlight. We endeavored on our first walk of many, entranced by the birds and plants we had never seen before.

The struggle to adjust continued when we both were up and ready for the day at 4 am the next morning. Clarissa suggests we, “just become morning people.”

So far on this trip, our lives have been quite indulgent. My uncle took us to a condo on the beach in Hua Hin where we sat reading by the pool and drank pineapple smoothies at the night market. Though this pampering makes me uncomfortable I have to realize that sometimes it is okay to let family take care of us. So as we sit on the beach watching the pink sun rise reflect on the turquoise ocean gently rocking the colorful fishing boats and the man with white silk pants ride down the beach on his pure white stallion, I am grateful to my family for allowing us to be here. Grateful to my mother for teaching me the native tongue, and grateful to Clarissa for being someone to laugh with as we float in the warm salty waters of the Gulf of Thailand.

Yesterday we went on a slightly strenuous hike through the mountains and caves of Khoa Sam Rio Yot National Park, waking up our bodies and sweating through all of our clothes. To find out way there, we pulled over to ask directions from the monk with sleeve tattoos smoking a cigarette.

Though we have seen beautiful vistas of white sand beaches and bright orange sunsets, we have also seen people living in intense poverty, dogs on the edge of death by starvation and beaches filled with plastic and styrofoam. A healthy reminder of what it really means to be a human occupying this earth.

“We are so far from Western Mass.” Clarissa reflected as we drove by rice fields scattered with cows and white cranes. Oh how I am so glad to be out of western mass! And as I finish up my section and pass the phone to Clarissa, I realize we are both humming the tune of “Little Boxes” by Melvina Reynolds. I smile, assured that we are not the type to ever get trapped in a little box.

best,

Alice

Day one and the sound of bare feet clicking on the wooden floors, sticky from humidity, has found home in my ears. Everybody moves here, every body is in a state of small, constant motion forward.

There is a deep comfort in knowing that when you lie down to sleep, you will sleep. That you will dream, remembered or not.

The ocean held the water in her hands as well as the sun held the sky in his. As well as the moon held the stars and as well as we hold each other. The sand was the velvet fur of a white tiger, the crumbling shells mimicking snow. The hair-thin, fingertip-sized crab legs scampered up from the tide, seeming to be blown up with the faintest wind. Later on we would watch them from above as they rolled mud balls with them claws, digging out countless holes. The earth moved under their feet and with it came the ocean, like a silk hand against a thousand workers backs. Grateful.

Masks fit faces differently. And if I wanted to give you my underwater goggles I would risk watching your eyes fill up with water as you stared up from beneath the pool at the gecko on the white cement wall, lit up by the light of a bug heavy lamp.

And if I wanted to give you my dentures for a meal I would risk watching the clementine swell and collect in your throat as you attempted to chew but succeeded to swallow.

And if I let you walk around in my shoes for a day I would risk watching your feet blister in an array of bubbling blues while you took stroll after stroll down the cracking street.

I want you to see and feel my heart race all the way up the mountain side, but with you by my side, not as me.

Alice, I want you to know that as a fellow eager mind to take slow and restful and meaningful deep breath. Not every word that leaves the lips of a wise crow sitting on the sagging telephone wire need to be licked clean by the nimble mouth shared by our inner ear and outer brain. I want you to know that as we grow familiar to the lights that surround us we can always adjust and readjust. The gasoline station glare is just as hard for our eyes to dilate to as are the stars as they emerge from the swamp of the sky.

I often see myself on the plate of sticky rice placed on the table. A small, pale body curled up, stuck to itself from the heat and humidity, wishing only to be happily eaten along side the chunks of overly ripe mango.

tenderly, Clarissa

Rose: Ocean, soft sand between toes

Thorn: humidity, everything wrapped in plastic

Bud: gaining more independence, finally being on our own.