A Not So Lazy Sunday

J: Yesterday was very bizarre.

All we knew to expect was contained in the following text message from our boss: "Meet at [our school] at 8am. We want to show you your new school. We will be there a few hours". Knowing to expect nothing but uncertainty and variability from her, we prepared as best we could. By packing a banana. At 8am, of course there was no boss to be found, so we waited around for another 40 minutes until she popped her head in and said "Hello! Come on!" as if she had been there all along and we were the ones who had kept HER waiting. Typical. She lives next door to this branch of the school, so it's always fun to look up at her room and guess what stage of lateness she's currently in (brushing her teeth, plucking her eyebrows, doing yoga?). As we piled into the van (this van is the size of a typical minivan, but somehow seats 12 legitimately. I didn't know those existed!), we realized that we were also being accompanied by her husband, who co-runs the school with her, and her secretary (who looks to be about 18), who after supplying us with correct visa paperwork has earned our affection. Being unable to think of any reason why the two of them would need to come along, we waited patiently in hopes that this would somehow be elucidated. In the car we were given the books we may or may not be able to use, and told to decide before we arrived who would be teaching which grades for the next 6 months. Based on the very limited information we had and my current state of carsickness, that decision probably wasn't the most informed.

Upon arriving at the school, we were ushered into a big sparse room and awkwardly sort of introduced to about 6 people with unpronounceable names. There was lots of wai-ing and head nodding and blank smiles. Some sort of debate/negotiation ensued in Thai, lasting about an hour. Just as our boss was turning to us and starting to say "Oh, they say that..." everyone suddenly stood up and we, bewildered, followed them into another nearby building which appeared to be a house. There, the table was set with assorted tea time foods and fruit baskets. The owners of the school practically hand-fed us enormous kumquats and grapes and bananas until everyone broke out into what seemed like more friendly Thai banter. These situations are always strange, as its anybody's guess as to the social protocol. Are you allowed to completely zone out and pig out on delicious Thai fruits? Should you maintain eye contact as if you too were engaged in the conversation? Should you laugh when everyone else laughs as if you have any idea what's being said? Should you pretend it's normal to be in a psuedo-interview in which no one is speaking your language or asking you any questions or seems to have any interest whatsoever in your capabilities or expectations? Just as we were wondering why we were there and if our presence would ever actually be required, everyone got up again and we stood in a foyer as the owners asked us adorable things like "You are happy?". We somehow communicated that we would like to visit the school across the street, where Ariel will be working, but we were blissfully unaware of the complexities such a journey would entail. It took about ten minutes for all of the women in the party to be properly outfitted with an umbrella for the arduous journey across The Street. Once suitably shaded, we made our way over (it looked exactly like every other Thai school, and we made sure to assure them it was beautiful and magnificent and we were very excited to work there), there was more Thai discussion until it was decided we should meander back. After what seemed like endless wai-ing we returned to the safety of the mini van, delighting in the prospect of being home before noon.

But this was, of course, not the case. After getting back into the van, it became apparent why our boss's husband had come too - Lamphun, the small province south of Chiang Mai where our school is located, is renowned for its cheap furniture shops, and he was beyond elated by the prospect of visiting them all. Before yesterday, we had met this guy several times and instinctively liked him despite never having a lengthy conversation. He balances out our boss in a way that transforms her from an over-ambitious, careless manager to an absent-minded person capable of deep caring. I always like when partners do that to each other - somehow manage to better the other simply by existing and loving them so much, and not taking them so seriously. He's very blunt and witty, and in just a sentence often calms our "OMG this is so absurd why is this happening is this normal?!" mentality by pointing out the reality of the situation. During the umbrella fiasco, he made fun of the girls for not wanting to get tan and then commented "There are too many gay guys in Thailand who use umbrellas and are too girly. Me, I refuse". During tea, when our boss subtly passed him a kumquat to peel, he loudly retorted "Are you kidding?! You eat the skin." The rest of us were then free to make as many fruit-related blunders as we liked. I like that he doesn't take any social situation too seriously, and in doing so breaks up the tension for everyone involved. Anyway, so we spent the next two hours perusing furniture shops on the side of the road. I guess our boss was stoked on how cheap everything was compared to American prices, because she kept converting all the prices to dollars and exclaiming "only 30 dollars! Isn't that cheap? I bet you're thinking of an export company now!" which was bizarre to us because furniture prices is actually something we would never think to translate to dollars. That would be like freaking out because you found out you can remodel your kitchen for $200 in Mexico. It just...has no translatable value because it's not something you can actually transport. I'm not thinking of shipping a 3-piece sofa back home to my mom for Christmas just because it's $10 cheaper here.

After loading up the van with gaudy decorations, we were driven to a restaurant and told to order whatever we wanted. It's nice being in a country where debates over the bill just don't really happen, and are actually considered rude. If you're going out to dinner and you're younger, you don't pay. If you're less wealthy, you don't pay. If you're not the boss, you don't pay. Luckily, in pretty much every situation in Thailand, we won't have to pay. So, in a way we never would in America, we sat back and enjoyed our accidental free lunch. During lunch the assistant (who speaks pretty much zero English) showed us pictures of this pizza place with 20 inch pizzas, and somehow one thing led to another and by 3pm, when we finally arrived home, we had been invited to dinner 4 times.

While our day was happening, we tried to think of some sort of American comparison so you could understand how strange this situation was for us. Here goes: Imagine you live in San Francisco and have had a little tension with your boss before you even start the job - she had promised you a job and accepted all your paperwork only to hire someone else and not even call you. After implying that she has several more positions available for you and has you interview for all of them, she tells you she doesn't have any more work for you in her SF branch, but finds a place for you to work in Oakland because you guilted her into doing so. On the day you think she's taking you to Oakland to see your new place and work out the terms and expectations, she brings along her husband and assistant (who seems more like a daughter). After your meeting in which you say practically nothing, you all unexpectedly head to IKEA. After perusing for a while and trying out some beds with your boss, you wait around while she has some of the ugliest things in the store packaged for her (A: Seriously, she bought this mirror frame, bird wall decoration sculpture something, and a tiny chair and asked our opinion of it. They were the ugliest things I've ever seen. I think I replied by saying, "Well I like it better than that one over there! haha *points at random sculpture of a sun*"). After IKEA, you all head to the Cheesecake Factory, where your boss orders 8 dishes for 4 people and insists you try everything. Then you get a tour of a high school in downtown Oakland, because it turns out that's where your boss's assistant went. And then you get an invitation to Benihana's for dinner four hours later.

A: Julia with our boss trying out a race car bed (complete with speakers and massage chairs on each side). I think our boss was seriously considering buying it at one point. This is our life. And--as always--Julia's face says it all.

A: Managed to catch a quick photo of Jules with one of our provided parasols as we walked about 200 meters from one school to the other. Tan is bad.

This is how far the school is from our apartment. Dayum, son.

A: As we waddled home, inexplicably car sick and desperate for more sleep, we decided to keep the dinner invitation open and respond after naps. Three hours later, I woke up and spent about five minutes composing  a text that eventually said, "We're still full from lunch! What time is dinner again? :)" (It took a long time to decide whether to include that smiley face and to be honest I wasn't even sure if she knew what that was as she responded with, "At 7. We meet at [insert school here]. Then we eat at 7:30.") But with my, "We'd love to go!" response, we headed out to have dinner with our boss. To our surprise, this dinner turned out to be with the whole fambam--our boss, her husband, the secretary, her brother, his son and daughter, and even her Bible studies teacher. We barely talked with our boss and instead ended up conversing with her Bible studies teacher and her brother most of the time. But at the end of the meal, she turned to us and with what seemed like a genuine smile said, "I'm glad you came." At this point I realized she had probably decided to take us under her wing. From the very beginning, she's talked about how young we are and how we're the same age as her son who is currently studying in America. And spending a whole day with her and even being invited to dinner with the family? Come on. That's like boyfriend/girlfriend induction into the family status.

I'd also like to insert a random observation in here: The way Thai people ask questions is with the subject first. So instead of saying, "Do you like the school?" they would say "You like the school?" This would be okay except that they don't quite have the correct intonations relating to English punctuation, since all of Thai is tonal. So it ends up sounding like a statement. On top of that, Thai has no tenses. Taught/teach/teaching/etc. is virtually the same word in Thai. You can imagine this leads to many awkward situations or micommunications, like when the owner of the school turned to me and said, "You are happy" and I just nodded and smiled until my boss clarified he meant, "Are you happy/satisfied with our school?" Or even better, when the assistant principal, who was about to talk about all the challenges that come with teaching 3-to 5-year-olds, said to Julia "You teach kindergarten" and with Julia's nod, the lady quickly responded with, "Good then this will be no problem." And it wasn't until a few seconds later that we realized she was asking if Julia had any experience teaching Kindegarteners before as opposed to asking if Julia was the one who will be taking over the Kindergarten class. When I'm typing it out like this, it sounds like something we should be able to easily pick up. But trust me, when you're in the situation and grasping onto any bit of broken English that you might be able to understand and respond to, the whole asking a question by saying a statement thing gets quite befuddling.

J: I'm still confused about how we went from being on tense terms with our boss and grasping at straws for a job at her school to spending the entire day together and being inundated with requests to work at her such and such school or help with his such and such program. I can only hope that they saw some shining bit of promise in us, and not that this entire process has been completely random and spontaneous. Who knows, maybe the next time we see her we won't have a job. Or even worse, no free meals. 

Thai ----> Laos

Jules and I have been excited about this blog post. For two main reasons: 1. Our trip to Lao(s) was--in a word--weird. And in a phrase, a plethora of things that makes one wonder and question. 2. When we came back, we researched Wikipedia'd more about the country and let me tell you, that explained a lot. But before you read that link, I thought it would be interesting to separate this post into those same two parts: 1. Our experience and observations and 2. Some helpful facts and anecdotes as to why Lao is the way it is.
We'll also be switching off who's doing the writing, so we'll clarify that with an A or a J (And just to clarify everything and make this an even more long-winded intro, we made a friend! on the bus ride from Thailand to Laos, and she makes a few cameos in our stories).

A: Our trip to Lao, or more accurately, Vientiane, was an interesting one. To be perfectly honest, Vientiane is a surprisingly uneventful place to visit. And this is not to say that Lao is not a beautiful and exotic country. I'd like to think Vientiane is to Lao what the Midwest is to the USA (In the same way that Delhi inaccurately represents the whole of India). Nobody goes to Kansas and feels like they know America. (Also so as not to offend anybody I'd like to clarify that I'm not saying the Midwest isn't probably a great place to live, just that it doesn't represent America as a whole, and I'm hoping that Vientiane is the same.)

First of all, we're pretty sure the whole town is populated either by tourists waiting for their Thai visas or locals who were born and raised there. In an almost depressing way, I don't think anybody else is in that town by choice. The Thai consulate won't do same-day visas, not even emergency ones, so everybody is forced to stay there for at least a night. Which seems like a great marketing ploy by the government except that everything closes by 10, and the most happening bar still closes at 11:30. In fact, when asking one of the locals who works a backpacker-friendly dorm hostel about the great eats and night life, he responded with, "no, there's no good food" and "no, there's nothing to do." The town was once under French rule, and the remnants of that mostly lie in the cheap and abundant baguette sandwiches. When we were walking around at night trying to find a place to relax possibly with a Beerlao in hand, we were pointed to the only place where everybody was--a rooftop bar on a lonely street by the river (sorry to interrupt the flow of this story but I'd just like to point out that naming your most popular beer "Beerlao" is exactly equivalent to us having a "BeerUSA," which becomes comical in that context because you know, 'murica and all).

(Side story to my side story, when we were trying to find this bar, we might have already had a few Beerlaos, and we ended up walking to the top floor of what I think was an apartment complex and finding this place:

Haleigh even tried looking around the corner to see if we were missing something. I think Jules' face says it all. J: No, I think it says a lot that these are our only 3 pictures from Lao.)

J: There are a couple perplexing things that stand out in Vientiane. Most prominent are what appear to be the only forms of advertisement: signs for Beerlao, the country's most popular beer (why do you need to advertise your only - and thus very popular - beer?), and communist flags. Taken alone they are a bit odd, but seen together, they're enlightening! Beerlao appears to be the most exciting thing to do in Vientiane. Activities topping the tourist to-do list include, but are not limited to: drink a Beerlao while watching  the sunset on the river. When we finally found a bar, much less one that was open after 9, men attempting to buy us drinks insisted feverishly that we simply must try the Beerlao. Judging from the resounding Laotion appreciation for this cheap little beverage, to them this was probably the equivalent of suavely recommending a medium bodied, reddish brown IPA with a balancing malt backbone. To us, it was more like someone insisting that you really must try the Miller Lite; you won't regret it; nothing is going to top this experience. Imagine our horror when, after coming back from the bathroom, we discovered that they had ordered a 6 liter beer tower of the stuff for us. Luckily, the unspoken Vientiane curfew of 11:30pm cut that night pleasantly short.

Naively, I assumed that a 750ml beer for $1.22 was the cheapest way to forget your communism woes. A quick trip to the minimart proved me earthshatteringly wrong - apparently you can easily pick up a liter of very sketchy looking whisky for $1.10. A country that's willing to drink hard liquor that costs less per liter than its own beloved beer (and not even twice as much as the cost of water) has got to have an interesting story. Turns out Lao has an unbelievably rocky history. Going from a country torn asunder by invaders and rebellions to one dominated by the French (who, as it turned out, were pretty apathetic about the country too), Lao's pre-independence years don't seem all that great. Subjectively speaking, post-independence hasn't been that kind either. After the communist revolution and Laos' subsequent involvement in the Vietnam war, the US launched a bombing campaign that lasted nearly a decade and made Laos the most heavily bombed country per capita in the world. What with this and what appear to be huge human rights issues, it's interesting that Lao is such an invisible entity to most Americans when we're clearly so entangled in its past, and thereby its present.  

A: One thing that I believe Lao so desperately needs to do is devalue its currency. Currently, $1 is 8,000 kip. What's even worse is that the conversion from Thai Baht to Lao Kip gives us a terrible rate. At one point we were trying to go to the bathroom and a lady was posted up outside charging us 2,000 kip! That's like 10 baht! Which is like being asked to pay $5 in America (I know I'm going on a lot of tangents, but one thing I really miss is being able to be like, "I'm sorry, I thought this was America! I thought this was the land of the free!" because even though that's just me making a joke, I don't get to say that here). We couldn't really find food for less than 20,000 kip although that might have been because we were in the tourist section of Lao. Yes 80 baht is still less than $3, but when living and working in a foreign country it's important to start thinking in that country's standard of living and in that case, paying 100+ baht per meal could get expensive. All of Vientiane lets tourists pay in Baht as well as Kip, however, which makes their exorbitant pricing reasonable. Because I felt like buying their resources and paying in another country's currency is like going to America and being like, "Well I don't have any of those dollar thingies but I've got Euros is that cool?" So rather than having to pay the ($8+) bank fees from pulling out of the wall, we would pay in baht and get kip in return.

This plan went great until our final hours, when our kip quickly dwindled. After a quick meal (a Lao street food sandwich consisting of dried shredded pork, a laughing cow cheese, cilantro, some red stuff, and some brown stuff in a baguette) and an unexpected extra 1,000 kip on the bus fee, we were but 5 baht short of the fee to get to the border, and this included what spare coins we had. Now don't think that we were ill-prepared and broke in a foreign country, just that all we had left was a 1,000 baht bill (which if you still haven't figured it out from all of our comparisons, is like having a fifty) and we weren't about to get a quarter of mil' kip change on our journey back to Thailand. So when the lady came around, we played pleading and desperate foreign tourists and explained that our last few kip and baht coins were all that we had. We were a little afraid of getting kicked off the bus, but India experience has taught us differently, and eventually the lady graciously let us only pay for one of us. Here we thought we had made it without having to break the bank, but Lao really milks the whole "we know you're only here for the visa run and not to tour our country, jerk" and they have a needless exit fee. To our benefit, the way they collected this fee had a loophole, and that was to walk around the lady that was collecting the fee. I see this as one of those moments where a country or government mimics more powerful countries by implementing similar practices, but doesn't quite do it correctly. The lady who made us turn around to buy the "ticket" that was our exit fee (of 9,000 kip each) was sitting at a table after immigration and customs and from what we saw, only ripped your ticket. So Haleigh pointed out that nobody was across the street and we all just made our way casually but quickly to the other side and walked past the point where the woman was sitting. There also happened to be duty free shopping there so we pretended like we had money as I called the minibus service to come pick us up. And, not surprisingly, that worked. Again, we saved ourselves 70 baht, and we were in the clear...

But we had yet to cross the Thai border. So here we are in no-man's land between Lao and Thailand and the bus to cross "Friendship Bridge" (A bridge built as a donation from Australia as a development aid for Lao) is 30 baht each. We asked a few people if we could just walk the distance, and found a guy that told us it was no more than half a kilometer and even gave us a map:

Man I wish I had a better quality picture, but this was all I could get at the time. Jules put it well when she said that as soon as he drew a circle and wrote "Laos," we knew this map wasn't winning any cartography awards. The thing is, he took SO long and was SO careful to add all the arrows and the lines in the road. I'm seriously still laughing as I upload the picture now (also the title of this blog entry was inspired by this map).

So we foolishly perked up believing half a kilometer's walk was worth 60 more baht in our pocket (J: and we still only had that 1000 baht bill. Sidenote, what currency does an ATM give in no-mans land?). Oh. My. God. Not only did the walk turn out to be 5.5 kilometers (as Jules looked up later on google maps), but the sun was setting, the weight of our backpacks was getting heavier, and it felt like the Thai border would never come. We had to climb over some barricades to pass the "Welcome to Thailand" and "Welcome to Laos" signs on the way too (at least I'm assuming that's what they said, since they were written in Thai and Lao), an indication to me that people don't normally go for strolls on the Friendship Bridge. Still, with the help of Jules', "It's just around the corner, I know it!" we made it to the Thai immigration and happily showed them our shiny new "Non-immigrant B" visas (also known as our "You can now legally work in Thailand" visas). We made it just in time to grab some yummy street food dinner, paid for at a reasonable price with reasonable currency. I missed Thailand. And to think Jules and I were going to originally stay in Vientiane for another day because we thought we might as well explore if we're being forced to travel there, but we quickly called the company the morning we were picking up the visas, because one day and one night in Vientiane is truly more than enough (not trying to sound like a miserable unappreciative white person, just being dramatic and also calling it like I sees it). We did have time the next day after picking up our passports to go to the Lao "Arc de Triomphe," which was actually quite beautiful and had a cute little market and a great view of the city (see pictures at the end).

The visa process--the whole reason we made this trip to Lao--was actually somewhat smooth. Anybody who wants a Thai visa has to go to the consulate and submit their paperwork sometime between 9 and noon. So that means grabbing a number and doing our best to check the correct boxes and answer unclear questions on the form as numbers are electronically called out in Thai and in English over the speakers. I was inexplicably nervous as it came closer to our number, but of course they ended up skipping us. And as the numbers continued upwards, I decided to just get up and go to the window, which turned out fine since they just took my paperwork and gave me a receipt. We then went inside and waited for our number to be called again so we could pay the 2,000 baht. This time Haleigh and Julia's number were called one after the other...and mine was skipped. But I think the guy entering the numbers saw how I reacted and figured out I must have been next so he went back and let me pay so we could leave. I'm probably going into too much detail on this part, but my reasoning is that you who are reading this might have been curious about the process and I didn't want to give more attention to the ridiculous 2,000 kip bathroom fee than the more important life-relevant visa run.

Then we had to go to the consulate the next day between 1 and 3 to pick up our passports. And that's about it. It went smoothly for us because our school thankfully provided all the proper paperwork, but I overheard some people getting rejected at the window. Though they won't refund you if you are denied a visa, they are nice enough to usually reject you before you pay. That way you don't end up thinking you're in the clear for your visa and finding your passport empty. All in all, mission accomplished right?

From the top of Vientiane's Patuxai

The delicious street food sammich

What'd I tell ya, mysterious red stuff and mysterious brown stuff

Some interesting old coins that every vendor seemed to have. Jules and I suspect they are fake, especially since one of them was an "old" American coin that we're pretty sure was never actually circulating currency

J: Now we're back in the comfort of our little home, regularly making batches of thai tea and nommin' on bananas and longans and mandarins. We missed Thailand.  

Saving Face

So far I’ve been pretty disappointed by how completely un-absurd the Thai people are. My favorite part of travelling is reveling in the absurdities around me, but Thailand is giving my drive to overanalyze an unwanted vacation. The Thais are just efficient and reasonable and logical people. Sigh. But don’t fret. The Thais still have their quirks.

Most pervasive, yet most invisible, is the Thai concept of saving face. This is definitely an Asian thing in general but absurdly prominent in Thai culture. Basically, anything that causes embarrassment or conflict is avoided at absolutely all costs. Sometimes this is more obvious than others – the oft-used anecdote of Thais giggling at an automobile accident, for instance. Thais try to laugh these situations off in public and (if absolutely necessary) deal with the conflict in private. This has been great for us, because as Americans we can be pretty embarrassing. Think of all the awkward and ridiculous things you end up doing as a tourist as you try to adapt to a radically different culture. Now subtract all the inevitable staring, dirty looks, and pity from passersby. In Thailand, moments of confusion and naivety get to be private instead of broadcasted. For someone like me who really values privacy and hates looking like an idiot, that aspect of saving face totally resonates with me. Saving face not only applies to embarrassment but also to arguments – we always find Thais breaking into awkward giggle fits during a debate that looks unequivocally heated. It’s certainly puzzling to have someone laugh at your obvious distress. Normal conclusions (e.g. they’re callous people or have major issues with social cues) don’t apply here. We’ve experienced this quite a lot in relation to our boss, who has given us a ton of trouble in the past couple of weeks. In some cases, we’ll be extremely upset about the situation and be further aggrieved to find her cavalierly tossing our concerns aside. Just as we’re about to call it a day and refuse to work for someone so heartless, she turns around and makes a concerted effort to give us what we want. It seems that us having a problem with her is twofold: she wants to downplay the situation for herself so that there is no conflict, but she also wants to keep us from showing anger so that we don’t lose face. To complicate matters, she also can’t confront that she’s made a mistake and is at fault. As a result, she fixes the problem for us only because she wants to maintain pride in herself for being a good, respected person. If you’re confused, don’t worry. So are we. It seems to me that a society that hinders people from using constructive criticism or calling someone out could be dysfunctional, dishonest, and unproductive, but there’s definitely more to the puzzle.  It prevents a lot of conflict and makes for a pretty peaceful society. It’s an odd balance between maintaining pride in yourself and trying equally hard not to destroy anyone else’s. Starkly different from our fend-for-yourself society! It’s fun to see how saving face plays such a huge yet subtle role in everyday life here. It’s also wildly confusing.     

Going out at night has also been something of a foreign experience. In most other countries, people tend to interact more in these situations, but the Thais very much keep to themselves. And by themselves I don’t necessarily mean their friend group, I mean they tend to sit in silence either doing nothing or on sort of electronic device. At one of our favorite bars, it’s not uncommon for people to be taking naps on the thai dining mats or just lazing around in big groups texting. Certainly a different sort of student life than I’m used to, but we obviously have yet to explore all the facets of it. So far it’s really difficult to make friends because while Thais are smiley and friendly, it’s not easy to break through that barrier of politeness into the actual friend zone. Unlike India, where people are constantly coming up to you and asking all about your life and what you’re doing that night, a Thai coming up and asking you anything at all would be absurd and generally sketchy.

In exciting news, our friend Jenna just arrived in Chiang Mai! For those of you who haven’t heard the story, basically several coincidences happened. After Ariel and I decided to move to Thailand to teach English, we found out that my roommate in India, Jenna, was planning to do the exact same thing. We ended up picking the same city as well (unless Jenna decides to leave, but seems like she’s loving it already!). My other roommate, Alex, happened to be going back to southeast asia and will be in Thailand to visit us in a couple weeks. So, a year later, we all independently chose to be in Chiang Mai all at the same time. Crazy. I’m so excited to see them and have a little reunion!   

Everything Else is Irrelephant

A parcel for room 718!!!

Go Sam :)

Julia captured me trying to find a tea strainer in one of the stores at our local market. So much color, so much confusion. Also that clock is wrong.

From the tunnels of Wat Umong on the mountains of Doi Suthep

A cat we befriended in Wat Umong. We named him Buddha and wanted to take him home :)

Elephants!

The inside of a Songthaew

An ode to Coca-cola

Wat Phra Singh in the Old City. The biggest and most famous in central Chiang Mai.

I hesitated going into this wat because I thought these guys were real...

But upon closer inspection...

How we get really cheap drinking/cooking water!  Just put in 5 baht and you get  about 6 liters of water.

We wanted to capture what a coat of paint can do for a building. Goodness.

Julia's new age!

Never thought I'd be seeing the inside of an elephant's mouth!

Even though these outfits give me no shape whatsoever (and even though I look like an alien), this was one of the best ways to capture our elephant journey :)

Crazy bug!

Pictures for the guest book

A unicorn sculpture in the Chiang Mai Art Museum right down our street

The rent was too high in our apartment, so we found a traditional Thai home to live in.

Julia chilling on our new front porch.

Welcome to our home!

It even comes with a loom

And is pre-furnished with a throne

The view between the market and our apartment. So pretty!

My first time making Thai tea!