A favorite

A Charlie Brown Christmas -- I've been watching it since I was a toddler. In America, I think you can watch it on TV this Thursday evening. My American DVD of this doesn't work on my Asian DVD player, but I can watch it on YouTube. My favorite 7 minutes and 24 seconds of the show are here, so if you miss it on TV, take a few minutes to watch on YouTube and be reminded of the simple, beautiful message of Christmas. (I also highly recommend buying the soundtrack from iTunes.)

A good friend

During the past two weeks that I've been fighting my lung infection, Mimi may have not gotten as much attention as usual. A few days I forgot to change her drinking water so she had a fresh bowl. Her walks outside were fewer and much, much shorter than usual. She must be tired of eating the same thing over and over. And now that I've lost my voice, I can't even talk to her.

I realize she doesn't have a lot of choices as to what to do in this situation, but she has been a really good sport. She knows something is wrong and she doesn't whine or demand too much out of me. She snuggles up close to me when I sit on the sofa, and she's a big fan of the long frequent naps I've been taking. Unafraid of my germs, curious over the nebulizer (that now is in my apartment), and patient when I walk into the other room to feed her and forget by the time I get there why I have gone, my Mimi has shown a lot of patience and love. Ah, if only I could teach her to cook and clean! That would alleviate her boredom!

In about six weeks, she'll turn eight years old. My how time flies. She's by far the best thing I ever picked up out of a cardboard box on a street in China. She's a keeper.

And, yes, I thought it was time for another post about my dog (the one about Doritos doesn't count), as it has been awhile now. :-) If you'd ever had a dog like mine, you would understand.

By the way, I'm better, but still not well. I am still homebound, except for doctor's visits.

Oh Christmas Tree

Since last December, my live, undecorated Christmas tree has been on the balcony, blocking the view of nosey neighbors who would love to look in and see what I'm doing. (I can see what they are doing too, or at least I could if I wanted to.)

You may remember that last year I went on a day-long adventure to find a tree on the outskirts of town. I actually kept the tree alive for a whole year!

Saturday I moved the tree into the bathroom and gave it a shower. Thanks to a horticulturist American friend in town who sold me his extra set of B&Q (a store like Lowe's, kind of) tree wheels last winter, it was easy to roll the tree around from room to room.

The tree looks a lot better when clean. It turned from grey to green!

When it dried, I moved it in the living room and gave it a trim with some scissors.

For background music, I had two of my all-time favorite Christmas albums playing: A Charlie Brown Christmas (circa 1960s) and Christmas with the Imperials (circa 1970s). Both are available for download on iTunes, if anyone is interested.

Then I decorated the tree. I decided to go minimalist with my decor this year. My tree has no tinsel or garland, just round ornaments with a few candy canes. Oh yes, it has white blinking lights, my favorite. I have no skirt on the tree this year, but I like the Christmasy look of the red ceramic pot that I bought at the village last year.

The tree is not perfect, but it is real. All its gaps and scoliosis give it character.

I have only a few decorations out elsewhere in the house, because (a) Christmas clutter starts to annoy and overwhelm me after a few weeks, and (b) I have to go somewhere right after Christmas and I want to easily take down the decorations before I go.

I have plans for a couple of Christmas parties, currently pending whether or not I get sufficiently well in time. (Fortunately, we don't have to plan far ahead here like people in the USA tend to do. I can call people up on a Friday and have a full-blown party the next day.)

If you look carefully, in the foreground of the Christmas tree you can see Mimi's plume-like tail. :-)

Black Friday

Friday, I finished my abbreviated nebulizer treatments at noon. I decided that since I hadn't had turkey for Thanksgiving, I would go to Subway sandwich shop and have a turkey sandwich. 

So that's what I did. While sitting there having lunch, it dawned upon me that I was in a mall, a really nice one, and it was Black Friday. So although I needed to be in bed, I decided a walk around the mall might just lift my spirits. It did! 

Since neither Christmas, Thanksgiving, nor therefore Black Friday are celebrated in this country, the mall was pretty empty. I looked around, bought a few items, and returned home. 

The only super-crowded place at the mall on this cold, rainy day was Starbucks, so I gave it a pass just this once.

I was so happy to be out and about on Black Friday. It's a much safer thing to do here than in America!

P.S. I have no idea what a ship has to do with Christmas. See the anchors mixed in with the snowflakes hanging from the ceiling? Anyway, it was pretty.

Thanksgiving

Due to illness, all Thanksgiving fun would be cancelled for this year. I told myself, "let's just get to breathing normally again, and then we'll have something to be thankful for later." I don't often talk to myself, but this week it just seemed like the thing to do.

Thanksgiving would be the longest day at the doctor's office. I'm sure my doctor had no idea it was Thanksgiving, seeing as how he is not an American and studied in the UK. He did two nebulizer treatments and an IV treatment before lunch, and asked me to come back mid-afternoon for another before I returned to my home across town (in the cold rain).

So for lunch, I walked a few doors down and had Thanksgiving lunch. Seeing as how I had plans to microwave a frozen burrito for Thanksgiving lunch, this was definitely a step up. I had pan-fried salmon with mashed potatoes and grilled veggies, washed down with an ice-cold Coke. 

Three Chinese men were at one table, with the boss loudly reaming out two of his silent employees.

Four European men sat at another table, cussing like sailors. I wanted to ask them to quit using that four-letter word that was ruining my holiday. But their food came, they started eating, and their conversation slowed down enough to spare my ears.

Apparently all the Americans in town were at home today.

With time to kill, and with a need to get into a place that was slightly less drafty than the restaurant, I went a few more doors down to Starbucks. I was about to sit down with my soy latte when I realized that I should really celebrate and get a manicure! The manicure place is right next door to the doctor's office, in one of the most beautiful nail salons I have ever seen in my life. (It is like a spa, decorated zen-style, with bamboo, stones, sandalwood aromatherapy, and more.) I took my coffee with me and got a manicure.

Then it was time for my 3rd nebulization of the day. After it ended, I told my doctor that it was an unusual but memorable Thanksgiving, and I was thankful for their clinic.

Because if not for their clinic, the Chinese hospital was the only other option, and if that didn't work, emergency air lift to another place would have been the only other option. And this is the fear that people who live in more remote places than me live with. (If this had happened when I lived in Bedrock, it would have been a nightmare.)

So, dear doctor, I don't know much about you or why God brought you young Singaporean doctors here when your own country is so nice. I don't know what you believe, although I heard at least one of you is a Buddhist. But I think you are tools in the hands of God, and I hope someday soon He blesses you with a relationship with Him.

The good doctor - Tuesday

I spent Monday hoping that the antibiotics would kick in, but I just got worse. Whatever medicine I got at the Chinese hospital wasn't helping. 

So I went across town to a medical clinic run by Singaporean doctors who have studied at western universities (i.e., in America or the UK).

My doctor told me to throw away the medicine I got at the Chinese hospital, and that he'd do everything in his power to make sure that I didn't end up with pneumonia.  

He said, "I'm going to put you on a nebulizer."

I have never had this bronchitis before, and if I have ever heard the word "nebulizer" before, I didn't pay attention. What's a nebulizer?

So, I'm standing there, trying to look cool. But a sci-fi image enters my head, maybe a Darth Vader-like character pointing a space-age weapon at me -- a nebulizer. (Please say that slowly with a low voice for the full effect. NEB-YOO-LYE-ZERRRRR)

I chided myself for being so melodramatic, so I substituted this mental image for another, what I imagine to be John Grisham's latest book -- "The Nebulizer." 

All this happens in my brain in a split second, and I hope my cool doctor isn't able to see the images that have just splashed across my brain. Fortunately, mind reading is not one of his gifts. I am safe. I pull myself together, go to another room, and get nebulized.

For the next four days, I spent most of every day traveling to or being at the doctor's office. It's cold and rains every single day, which is great for someone trying to fight the onset of pneumonia. 

Bad Hospital - Last Sunday

I got back from Thailand last Thursday (over a week ago), and by Friday night I had come down with what appeared, at the time, to be a bad cold. Over the weekend, it became the most miserable of colds. Then Sunday evening around dusk, I came down with severe chills followed by burning fever. If I could only make it until Monday morning, I could make it to a pretty good clinic run by young, western-trained Singaporean doctors. 

The thought of waiting another 15 hours to get relief was more than my sick body could bear though. So I did the unthinkable. I decided to go to a Chinese hospital.

I called some Chinese friends to see if they could go with me, but they were out-of-town or otherwise unable to assist. 

My American friends across town probably would have taken an hour and a half to get here, and most of the ones in town right now don't know the local language. Knowing what I know now, I should have requested their help even without the language advantage.

Maybe it was because of the fever, but every muscle and bone in my body ached. If I had been much sicker, I couldn't have done this. I grabbed Mimi's dog blanket for warmth, and headed outside to find a taxi. I stood there, leaning up against a tree, for about 20 minutes before a taxi stopped for me. I told him to go to the K hospital, because they are supposed to speak English there. It's a 30-minute ride away. My driver immediately knew I was sick, and he was really nice to me.

He took me to the emergency room.

I stood in line to pay, the first of three times. This is where non-Chinese speakers could have helped me. I didn't feel like standing in line. I didn't feel like standing at all. They don't help you at the hospital until you pay though.

The nurse, standing at a counter that looked like a bank teller's counter, gave me a thermometer and told me to place it under my tongue. I told her it wasn't clean. She told me it had been disinfected. I told her, with my eyes, that I wasn't born yesterday. She smiled (because I was right) and told me I could put it in my armpit. No telling where that thing has been previously. Even at home I use disposable thermometer covers on my thermometer. 

Then at the lab counter, they took my blood to test it. I asked the guy if he could please change out of his dirty rubber gloves and put on new ones for my sake before he drew blood. He cheerfully agreed. I don't think most people ask him to change.

Then with his new gloves on, he rummaged through files and instruments before he took my blood. 

While he was working on this, a guy with bodily fluid resembling creamed corn, in a paper cup, came up and stood shoulder to shoulder with me. He and the lab technician used a little spoon to stir it, presumably in preparation to test it. It was inches away from me, and they had no concern for keeping the diseased fluid from spilling. 

There were two "internal medicine" doctors in the same room with each other. Each had 3 people waiting to talk to them. They were all crowded around the doctor's desks while waiting. Privacy is not valued here.

The bathrooms were filthy, especially the floors, and there was no soap. No telling what diseases were in there. I disinfected my shoes with Lysol spray when I got home.

I got an IV that took over two hours. They don't let you lie down to get IV's. You have to sit in a chair in a room with dozens of other people who are getting IV'S. The girl who put the IV in me didn't use gloves. And I know from looking in the bathroom that if she bothered to wash her hands at all, she hadn't used soap.

I don't even know what was in the IV. I did get a Chinese friend to translate over the phone, but all I know was that it was to bring down my fever.

I also got an injection in my hip.

Did I mention that no one in the emergency room spoke English? I should have gone to another dirty hospital closer to where I live.

After two hours of the IV, I still had a fever. I got a taxi and returned home. During the night I broke into a sweat which I am told was my fever breaking.

But I was still sick.

Weathering a storm

I'm sick with bronchitis. I must have never had it before, because I've never heard weird noises coming from my lungs before. I'll tell you more about it later, but suffice it to say that it has stopped my regular life since it came along last Friday. There's no cooking going on at my place this week, so the Meems and I are just eating whatever packaged food we can find. Mimi picked up some tortilla chips and ate about seven of them this afternoon. I'm considering heating a burrito in the microwave for Thanskgiving dinner. I know! I was so excited to see that the import grocery store had some, otherwise I'd have to eat something boring like cereal.

(I was invited to a gathering of American friends, but the only place I am fit to go to in this condition is the doctor's office.) 

It's also cold and raining non-stop, great weather for bronchitis. Mimi and I are couch potatoes, having a NCIS marathon.

I would really appreciate your prayers, because I need this lung problem to go away soon. I've got things to do, places to go, people to see!

Transitions

All in a day's work (from this past Thursday) --

This morning: Caught in morning rush hour traffic in Bangkok

This evening: Caught in evening rush hour traffic in Shanghai

This morning: Shorts and flip-flops

This evening: Fleece-lined boots and longjohns

This morning: Sweating

This evening: Shivering

My trip is done. I'm back where there are four seasons and a happy Pekingese...so glad to be back.

If they only knew....

First and business class were full, full of people who wanted enough space to stretch out. If only they knew. I practically had one-third of the plane to myself for the price of a coach class ticket. I stretched out across four seats for a nap, and my feet, even when stretched out, didn't stick out into the aisle.

I love Thai Air. They didn't even care that my luggage was 20 pounds over the limit, and they didn't charge me for it.

Bye Bye Beach, Hello Bangkok

 Christmas decorations in a country that worships Buddha. Go figure.

Tacos for dinner in Bangkok. I love Thai food, but after two weeks of it, tacos seemed like a nice alternative.

Modern Fever

I went to the doctor in Thailand on Wednesday to get a report from my earlier stay. I arrived early, and since there are two Starbucks inside the hospital, I got an extra hot latte to sip in the waiting room.

The nurse eventually came to get me. She took my blood pressure with her tourniquet malfunctioning blood pressure cuff. Ouch. She gave up on taking my blood pressure, which is fine because it is always on the low side of normal anyway.

Then she took my temperature and looked perplexed. 

"I have a fever, don't I?" I said chirpily.

She said I did. But testing my temperature was a routine measure and she knew that I shouldn't have a fever; she wondered if her thermometer was broken.

I pointed to my coffee cup. 

She sighed in relief.

Cowabunga

Cows are not the first things that come to my mind when I think of Thailand. I think of elephants, maybe monkeys, but definitely not cows. 

This cow is going to "egret" looking at me like this.

Hey, when's the last time you saw a cow on a leash? He's just across the road from a beach...are they afraid he's going to swim away or something?

Kokomo

Coconut shells under a tree in Thailand.

Ladies slicing the coconuts before discarding the shells.

And then there are all the dead coconuts (rotted ones) washed up on the shore.

Beachy Keen

Boards on the beach in Thailand.

A two-year old clam digger -- where in Thailand did she find a knit cap, and why?

Here's the same boy as in the previous post. He's sharing a hammock with his mom, who is reading from an iPad.

Yes, that would be a golden crab (or maybe a golden lobster? I grew up in a desert, so I am not fluent in sea critter terminology) and a golden dragon, for unknown reasons co-existing on a fairly deserted beach in Thailand.

Beautiful, beautiful Thailand. Nice.

However, this is November, and somehow it doesn't feel like November to me when I am in Thailand. It's a nice place to visit, but Thanksgiving is coming, so pretty soon I need to get somewhere where sunscreen is not mandatory.

Random beach scenes from Thailand

This is my favorite photo this week, a Thai boy in a hammock on the beach.

Fishing boats seen on my muddy adventure yesterday.

Ominous dark clouds on a deserted beach.

Flowers so vivid and beautiful that they don't seem real.

A common sight -- huts where people sit, sleep and otherwise hang out during the day. It's too hot to stay indoors. The huts protect from the sun and rain, but allow the free flow of air. 

Mud Mobile

I'm somewhere in Thailand. My dad found where I am on a Google map, but I don't yet really know where I am. It is off the beaten path, and there is no public transportation. Last night I went to rent a motorbike for 24 hours. 

The young women renting out the bike were worried. "Do you know how to ride a motorbike?" they asked in doubt. They obviously have no idea who they are talking to. A motorbike has been my main mode of transportation since 1998. 

I parked the bike at my place of lodging overnight. The torrential rains and thunder came overnight (of course, it always happens that way). When the rain let up, I went out by motorbike. But the rain started as soon as I got out, and I got soaked before I had gone only a few yards. I went back, changed clothes, and waited a couple of hours for the rain to stop again.

Then I went to the nearby national park. Please rid your mind of "national park" notions such as park rangers, nicely paved roads, or a visitors center. The only thing this national park had that national parks back home have is this: someone to take your money in order to enter. Inside, it looked like no one had paid attention to it ever. In fact, a few times it felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

I heard there was a pretty beach. But I couldn't find it. I asked a young woman where it was. She pointed in some direction, I drove that way, and entered a Buddhist temple area. When I saw a orange-robed monk, I thought I had entered in error. So I went back out the gate.

I went down another road, and drove through a village. I saw a lady cooking at her outdoor kitchen. I smiled at her, but she didn't smile back. 

I went as far as I could go down the road. I hit a dead end. I could see the ocean, and a beautiful coastline beyond the end of the village, but there was no road to get there. 

A village man understood my dilemma and pointed for to me to go behind his house. So I did. There were no paved roads, just ruts that had been rained upon recently. The ocean was too close for me to give up now. I drove through the ruts. 

Soon I was hydroplaning in the mud. I was so glad that for the first time since 1996 I had decided to wear shorts in public today. (More on my neon-white legs some other time.) 

A few times I drove down the grassy "median" of the waterlogged dirt road, at full power, with my legs stretched out. You know, like I was 13 years old or something.

I couldn't decide if I should just roll with this and have fun, or if I should start to worry about how I was going to get back out of this place.

Then finally, there I was, on a beautiful stretch of ocean that was totally undeveloped.  This was not even the beach that I was aiming to go to today, it was one I had accidentally discovered on my own. I could see a fishing boat in the distance, but there was not another person anywhere else in sight. I wanted to stay for a long time. But it was thundering. I wasn't at all sure I was going to get out of there under the present conditions, and another downpour would surely only make things worse. So I went back to my motorbike. 

And it didn't start.

"You've got to be kidding!" I said to the only one listening, God. But then I turned the key in the ignition to the "on" position and it started. Oops! 

Between my bike and the mountain back there, you can't tell by the picture, but the entire area is a virtual swamp.

I returned the same way I had come, of course. The mud made a Jackson Pollock design on my white legs. 

As I drove back through the village, the lady in her outdoor kitchen had a humongous smile on her face. I'm pretty sure it was a look of relief. She probably felt responsible for my well-being, and was glad to see the white woman had found her way out.

I got back to the Buddhist-looking place, and I drove in again. I used hand signals to ask if I could enter, and the monks smiled and told me I could. (The monk pictured here was smoking, and had puppies playing at his feet.) I drove ahead and found another easily accessible beach that had restaurants and shops (civilization, so to speak). 

I decided to eat.  

I gave my leftover chicken pieces to a skinny dog. As soon as he ate up the last bits, I turned and found two of his dog friends hanging out under my table. I wish I had saved some for them.

The dogs were dirty and scratching like crazy. I kind of wanted to take them home and give them a bath, but then I realized that what I really ought to do was just take myself back and give myself a bath.

So I did the Australian thing and drove back, on the left side of the road, like they do here. I saw lots of interesting things on the way back. I'll tell you about them later though, because this is kind of long. I'll stop for now.

(Dear Mom and Dad, I promise not to do anything even remotely dangerous or weird  tomorrow.)