Details

So far, this blog has read much like a travelogue, detailing the things I did. I'm going to try to get away from that a bit, and try to take more artistic liberties, because I think it's missing the point. I could fill up whole pages following along the shoestring of my day, "I did this, I did this, and then then this." and that's boring. lots of exciting things are happening, but painting them with broad strokes doesn't describe why this first week in bangkok has given me joy. it's the details. the little things and small moments and sights, that give me new feelings that I haven't felt before. so here it is: the things that have made me feel.

• The hope and love in the eyes of my fellow students, who love like family though our friendships have barely begun. the way that each day new details spill out and give my understanding of them shape and form and substance beyond whatever my first impressions gave.
• The way the dirty laundry water runs off the rooftop and down the sides of the building, as the clothes of assorted housemates catch the breeze and give the wind shape. 
• All the beautiful language, only portions of which I'll understand. Today I've heard at least snippets of thai, english, german, dutch, spanish, and indonesian. the sound of P'Steph's southern accent after her bloodstream begins to feel the effects of the ice cream. the connection I feel with each of my thai-speaking friends each time they teach me a new word.
• The way the roads meander, the way the cars swerve, and the feeling of raw vulnerable freedom that comes from each crossing of the street. the way the stray dogs coexist with men, finding empty landings to occupy and walking alongside you as you walk. the smile that comes to the faces of Thai passerby at Farangs, laughing both with you and at you and smile at you.
• The way each spice makes the dish so uniquely thai and so filled with flavor and depth and substance, the way you can know where in the country the recipe (and perhaps its chef) came from just by knowing what ingredients go in it.
• The feelings of stories I can't share, from places I can't name, from people who give me joy. The way the thai and expat missionaries worship. 
• The heat and the sweat and the joy and the sorrow and the moments of homesickness and the moments where you wouldn't be anywhere else. the scattering of pictures on my small portion of wall, reminding me of people I miss, many of whom I won't see for a long time. the facebook statuses from friends making that sacred car-ride from the cities of missouri to make it in time for truman week. the longing that comes with knowing I won't be there, the joy that comes from knowing the blessings that are in store for my underclassmen friends.
• the promise and the mystery of each new sidestreet, each passing moment, each coming night. The way the first few jetlagged days breeze by and feel ancient even days later, and the sense of urgency that that brings. The way the shower temperature and the calorie intake and the bacteria in the water begin to become "normal" and the way my body now accepts this firm bed as my own, when days before I would toss all night. The feeling of finding home in a strange new place.

I'll be coming up with new ones as they come to me. Hi, Tiffany.