I have no idea what I'm eating.

BANGKOK, THAILAND

It's still early and the morning is cool. The sidewalks are not quite as crowded with vendors as they will be later in the day, and many are just starting to set up. A few stands sell coffee laden with sugar and sweetened condensed milk. As we walk, I look into each vat and frying pan, trying to discern what might be in each, but in the end, I just choose what looks most interesting. Strange fruits, little leaf bundles with mysterious fillings, fritters of all kinds, steaming vats of broth, tiny dumplings.  Today I choose tiny cups of what turns out to be coconut cream, cooked in a thin shell of batter. A few pieces of corn, green onion, or shredded taro dot the top of each. Delicious.

I think back to my trip to Guatemala ten years ago, my first time traveling in a land of plentiful street food. But I had naively listened to those who told me it wasn't safe to eat street food. There was one woman in particular whose stand always smelled amazing. Her stand was set up alongside the stairs that led from the central square to the street below where I was staying, and so I passed by it nearly everyday. I have no idea what she was cooking- some sort of spiced meat fried over a tiny fire. I salivate a little just thinking about it.

Since then, street food has become my favorite thing about traveling. I'm still a little picky, making sure things are cooked, limiting raw food, choosing vendors who look busy enough to keep the food fresh. And there are plenty of foods that are just too foreign, or smell questionable, that I just cannot muster the courage to try. There's a little nagging voice in my head when it comes to ice and shared utensils, but it is seldom loud enough to keep me from eating. Much of the time I have no idea what it is I'm putting in my mouth, but I am seldom disappointed. I find that usually anything that smells good when it's cooking, tastes pretty good in my mouth.

Bangkok, of course, is a wonderland for street food. I've only been here a couple days and my sampling has been limited, but I have my eye on the crepes that come out at night, and the tiny taro fritters I saw someone cooking yesterday, and of course I could eat my fill of noodles at any number of places. I'm not much of a meat eater, but the smorgasbord of meat balls, some wrapped up in rice paper pouches, and meat on a stick intrigue me a bit and are likely to make it into my belly at some point.

A bathing suit, a scythe, and a picture of the king.

BAAN PHE, THAILAND

Since landing in Bangkok late thursday night, I have been whisked around by my good friend Paul, and have hardly had my feet touch the ground. It is an altogether different experience to arrive in a foreign country and have someone waiting to show you around, and even to have an apartment in which to stay. I haven't had to navigate the city or the language for that matter, which certainly makes life easy. But it also means that I feel largely oblivious in some ways. But then it is exactly my third day in the country, two and a half of which have been spent at the beach.

And there is nothing like a beach town to make you feel like you could be anywhere. Palm trees and sand look suspiciously alike no matter where on the globe they are. This weekend I waded in the water at Ban Phe, at a lovely little resort away from town. My pasty white skin, a relic of my six months in Antarctica, now bears the bright red stain of the Thai sun, in spite of the cloudy skies.

While in Ban Phe, we visited the local aquarium where I saw the largest grouper I have ever seen in my whole long life. Having known grouper only as a meal, I have to note that this one could feed a small village.

We also stopped to visit a couple markets: one that featured every imaginable fish and sea critter in dehydrated form. Flattened squids that, when hung from a vendor's rack, looked a bit like jellyfish. The smell was overwhelming as we wandered among the tiny shrimp and silvery fish, shriveled and crispy in their cellophane wrappers. Shell curtains, wind chimes, and picture frames filled the stalls not selling the critters who once inhabited said shells.

Another market boasted one of everything. Quite literally, I am certain. Dishes, furniture, and plastic bowls of every shape and size. Laundry detergent, cookware, electrical supplies, and shoes. Ceramic banks in the shape of rabbits, and cats, and something that vaguely resembled a legless pig. Mothballs, machetes, flip-flops, and headphones. Tricycles, plumbing supplies, altars, and jewelry. Hammocks, pocket-knives, light bulbs and stationary. Straw hats, swimwear, makeup, and diapers. And of course, framed pictures of the king. What more could one ever need?

The trouble with roommates

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS


My bread sparkles slightly in the light, and I look closer to find a single piece of glitter embedded in the bread. While it is entirely possible that the crafty friend who kindly mailed me this homemade chocolate-apple bread is responsible for this stray bit of glitter, I imagine that the true culprit is my current roommate. There is a constant parade of sparkly items through the house, and it is not all that unusual to look in the mirror while brushing my teeth before bed and find a piece of glitter glistening in my eyebrow or scalp without any recollection of having touched a single sparkly thing in the course of the day. This is, however, the first time that it has shown up in my breakfast.


Like previous roommates, this one often keeps me up at night, and is constantly borrowing things from my room. Things that never quite make it back to my room. She also has a penchant for swiping any spare change that might be laying around, and she has pretty much never done the dishes.


She's also three-and-a-half. 


Not always the easiest little person to  live with, but I think the feeling's mutual: last week she told me to go back to Antarctica (I might have suggested that she put on shoes to go to the grocery store). I adore her of course, in spite of her less desirable qualities.  


In a few days I will take off again, this time for Thailand with an entirely open itinerary that may or may not involve any number of other Southeast Asian countries. The sounds keeping me up at night will be entirely different, and while I will be concerned with what's in my food, I'm pretty certain it won't be glitter. 


I am very much looking forward to traveling again, to wandering amidst strange sights and smells, to the awkwardness that inevitably arises when trying to navigate a foreign place. But my time here, talking a mermaid into her bath at night, debating the merits of cake as a breakfast staple, and knitting with my sister in the evening, are the sorts of things I inevitably miss when I'm away. It is tough to strike the perfect balance between the foreign and the familiar, the exotic and the mundane. 

The safest place on earth

CHICAGO, IL


Cars bob in the water like toys in a child's bath. What appears as fall leaves and other natural debris floating down a swollen spring creek is in fact entire neighborhoods washed out to sea in a single swoop. I stare at the television in disbelief. The images are startling to say the least. 


The earthquake in Japan and the following tsunami come the morning after I purchased an airline ticket to Thailand via Tokyo. Barring further earthquakes, I'm sure the Tokyo airport will be up and running when I fly through, and of course this is trivial in light of the hundreds who have lost their lives and the thousands who are just plain lost. But still, it makes me wonder if any place is safe. 


Two weeks ago, I returned to the states after weathering the devastating earthquake in Christchurch. I of course was lucky- I didn't lose my home, and not a single person I know was injured or killed. I even managed to walk away with my passport and nearly all of my personal belongings. But after a few days of earthquakes and aftershocks, I was all too happy to pack up my rattled nerves and head home. Travel weary after 40 hours of travel, I arrived in Cincinnati......just in time for tornado warnings. 


I woke up in the middle of the night to the warning sirens. I laid in bed for a moment in my half-asleep stupor and pondered whether I actually needed to head downstairs. Tornadoes don't terrify me the way other potential disasters might- the result of familiarity, I suppose. Midnight trips to the basement were a semi-regular occurrence in the springs of my childhood. What's that they say about the devil you know? Best not to take a chance though- I grabbed a blanket and pillow, along with a book in case I couldn't sleep, and the laptop I tripped over just for good measure. Halfway down the stairs, I thought about my passport, wallet, camera, and hard drives laying on a table upstairs- the four things that never left my person after the earthquake in Christchurch. This time the storm passed without incidence. 


Now as another earthquake shakes the world, this one more violent than the last, friends in various places in the Pacific are warned of tsunamis, others on the west coast of the states are evacuated. Somewhere in between images of Christchurch still smoking, and Japanese cities washed out to sea, the images of boats navigating flooded New Jersey streets appear and I wonder if the whole world isn't falling apart. (And this says nothing about political turmoil rocking every corner of the world).


I feel largely oblivious to all of it. I have passed the week holed up in a chicago bungalow reading stories, changing diapers, and cleaning up vomit (stomach bug + preschooler= LOTS of laundry). Somewhere in between naps and goldfish crackers, I've even managed a conversation or two with my sister. This I suppose falls into the more mundane chapters of my life. I realize my adventures in spit up and dress up are hardly exotic to anyone living in the vicinity of wee ones. 


While the sleep deprivation and constant noise is certainly distracting me from the ongoing events of the world, I wonder if some of my oblivion is just that it's all too much. At some point the barrage of tragic images and discouraging news is overwhelming. I feel helpless in light of it all. 


I found great irony in the fact that at the time of the Christchurch earthquake, two incoming USAP (United States Antarctic Program) participants were watching a video on the serious dangers of life in Antarctica. While the voice on the video went on about the risks of hypothermia, and frostbite, and getting lost in a whiteout, buildings crumbled along with lives. But in the two weeks since my return, as I digest the news of natural disasters, political disasters, and other sorts of turmoil, I start to wonder if Antarctica isn't the safest place to be. Or perhaps just the easiest, well away from the perils of the world.