frak

Hey, hey, hey. Check this out. Here in Bangkok it's the begining of "Buddhist Lent"! "Buddhist Lent" commemorates Buddha's ordination of his first monk, and also marks the start of a traditional three-month rainy season retreat for monks. The monks sequester themselves away so as not to tromp on the farmers' newly sprouted rice plants, and spend their time in contemplation, meditation, and reading. The reading requirements brought about the development of a cool art form here in Thailand - the sculpted giant candle. Massive beeswax candles are sculpted into gorgeous artworks, particularly in the North Eastern town of Ubon Ratchathani, and are then paraded through the streets before being donated to the local temples. On the first two nights of "Buddhist Lent", people also go to the temple and after dusk walk around the outside of the wat carrying (smaller!) lit candles. Very pretty.

Mind you, I still haven't figured out why the English translation becomes "Buddhist Lent" -- given that Buddha had, oh, a 500 year jump on Christ, wouldn't it make more sense to call Lent the "Christian Khao Phansa"?

Either way, the big bonus (aside from spiritual enliftment, yadda yadda) was that I had Monday AND Tuesday off. What a deal, huh? Huh? Well, it turned out that it was a deal for my school instead. If I hadn't had those statutory holidays, they would've had to pay for me to have sick days. Cause dang was I sick. Here's a good way for you to figure out how sick I was. Guess how many times I've left the house since Friday at 4:30 pm when I got home from our school field trip to the Nestle factory and the Bang Pa In Palace in Ayuttaya? Keep in mind that it is now Tuesday at 8:16 pm.

That's right! Absolultely ZERO times. I have been in the apartment for ninety nine hours and forty six minutes.

Yes, frak indeed.

A bunch of my grade fours came to school sick last week and apparently passed on their little treasuresome germs to me so that I could enjoy my own Lenten retreat. On Friday I thought it was just a cold, but then on Saturday I got a massive fever. Normally, a fever and illness make me run to the doctor to get antibiotics. Buuuut being pregnant and all, I had to make do with some strategically alloted tylenol and some cold head rags. Most of the day I went around mewling piteously while bumping into furniture because it hurt to open my eyes. On Sunday I thought things were better when I woke up able to think for a few minutes, but the fever kicked back in later and flung me back off my feet. It is really un-fun being sick when you're pregnant. Not only are you cut off from useful drugs, even idly contemplating taking them for a moment can make you feel like a wicked crack addict tempted to hit the pipe just that once. I was so stuffed up with allergies early on in my pregnancy that I spent four hours - yes, four hours - one night sitting reading every piece of information on the net about decongestants and pregnancy while clutching a bottle of nasal spray in my non-mouse hand. All to no avail. Do not take destuffers while pregnant said every last article. Of course I didn't. What if number two was born with no nose? I know I'd blame myself eternally for that one sniff. And the same thing this time. It was only cause I was practically on death's door that I broke open the tylenol. And that's not the only problem. Of course since I was totally wretched, I spent every semi-conscious moment being terrified on the baby's behalf. Monitoring every single kick. Sooooo unpleasant, lah.

On Monday Phet had to go in to work and out to dinner. I was mostly in recovery mode and slept alot. I think I gave myself a sleep hangover so that I actually felt worse because I'd slept so much. The moving company assessment lady came at 4 pm and it was all I could do to sling on a bra and pull my hair back into a ponytail before I answered the door. Fortunately I also remembered to put on my dress. She was very impressed with my level of organization. I guess most people don't pre-pack before the packers come. Still, I was so wrung out that I could barely answer simple questions like, "So, where are you moving to?" and "How far along is your pregnancy?" She probably thought I was a meticulously well organized crack head. Thankfully, she left after half an hour and I was able to wallow again. Today Phet left at dawn for Pakse. He took a massive hockey bag I'd filled with old toys and clothes of Ji's for the kids, and nothing of his own but two t-shirts. He was pretty psyched about that. The t-shirts and all. He's pleased by simple things in life. Like going to stay with his Mom and having to only bring two shirts cause he knows someone will wash the dirty one for him while he's wearing the clean one, and what else could a man need when he'll be taken care of by his brothers, sisters, Mumma, and nephews? Meanwhile, I spent another day living the life of a carefree singleton. Read a novel. Tried to stand up occasionally. Watered the plants. Ate some food.

Tomorrow it's back to school. Let's hope work is better than the holidays were.

A couple of last notes before I stagger off to bed...

Mum told Ji I was sick, and that she wished she could be in Bangkok to take care of me and make me some nice hot lemon and honey. Ji's response? "Oh Gramma, Mum already knows how to make that!" Kids. They're so full of heart.

Dad said the other day he took Ji to the playground in Wiarton and Ji was watching a few kids playing nicely on one of those roundabout Merry-Go-Round thingies. Instead of standing up, the kids were all lying down and turning the roundabout with their hands. Ji went over and after a little while asked them if they'd stand up and do it properly. One of the kids quite politely said, "I think you're too little to go on this." Ji responded by saying, "I am not too little! I am four years old and I just graduated from Kindergarden and I am staying here without my Mum and Dad and I am living with my Gramma and Grampa for one whole month and I am going to India!" Dad says the other little kid took it in stride and said, "Hey, I wish I could stay with my Grampa for a month!"

And finally, I can't belieeeeve that I forgot to mention this in the check up post, but when I went for my check up the other day I went to see the newborns' nursery after I saw my doctor. They're nice and old fashioned at the Bumrungrad hospital; they have a proper old-school style viewing area where you can see the recently-born shrimplings in their wee plastic rollie cots. They don't seem to be there all the time, maybe just while the mother gets her second wind or gets stitched up after having a caesarian (they're all the rage here). At any rate, there are usually three or four newly hatched babies to ogle. When I walked by, there was one beautiful new sprout right near the window. She had a dark thicket of hair and looked as healthy as could be. And her name tag, stuck on her rollie cot, said, "Miss SUNNY JI".

[Bangkok-11-July-2006]