"Seriously!" she declares. "He doesn't like sex! He's forty years old and has never had a girlfriend."
Well... I mean... that's one possible conclusion.
Bee is a sixty year old Malaysian woman who often abandons her husband in Singapore to romp about the world.
"I told him before we married. I told him, "You cannot have my independence. I won't take yours, and you won't take mine. If you can't agree to that, then we won't get married." And of course, he agreed. Well, what do you think? He wanted to get me in bed! When you meet someone, you have to tell them right off. Men like to control women. So you have to tell them you need your independence before you get married."
hehe... I'm pretty sure my need for independence is the only thing more glaringly apparent than my powerful legs.
"It's good that you're traveling while you're young," Bee continued.
"Well, I'm not really that young," I countered.
"How old are you?"
"I turn twenty-eight in May."
"But you look so young! Most Westerners never look young. They seem so old. But you look like you could be twenty-two!"
Never heard that before...
"It must be because you travel. Travel keeps people young."
Or makes them sick ALL THE TIME, I resentfully considered my aching throat and scratchy eyes.
I just... want to have a full day wherein I don't hurt.
I've grown quite fond of Bee during my three days at Nature's Way. She's bursting with energy, chocked full of stories, and is always bringing home bags of Thai goodies she's bought at the market.
"Aimee, I have to show you something. I bought this bag of rice, this big bag of rice, for ten baht. Can you believe that? That's soooooo cheap! And this -- I don't know what this is. Mmm... it smells spicy. I bought it at the market for fifteen baht! You have to go early, that's the thing. Thai people wake up early, so early. Two, three in the morning! They go to the market and buy all their food for the whole day, so all the good food is gone like that. But I went out at six this morning. While you were sleeping. And I found rice porridge with little shrimps for only twenty baht! It was soooooo cheap!"
(You'll notice I don't do a whole lot of talking during our... errr... exchanges)
Then Bee invites me to taste her mostly unidentifiable food in plastic bags.
(You'll notice that "invite" is a rather soft way of putting it)
"Let's get DRUNK together!" Bee opened up her rice wine and thrust spoonfuls of fermented white rice into my mouth. Before I had time to agree or disagree to the whole "getting drunk together" activity.
Guess I'm getting drunk with Bee.
I asked Matt why weird shit always happens to me. Matt says it's just because I make a habit of just going with things, while most people tend to back out at the first whiff of crazy.
Seems about right.
"Aimee, you have to try this!" Bee rushed at me as I was mid-chaturanga on the linoleum floor.
"No, Bee, I brushed my teeth!" I protested from my plank.
"Oh, shut up and eat!" Bee stuffed some sort of vegetable into my mouth.
My first night at Nature's Way, I spent ten minutes in the common area to charge my laptop. When I hopped upstairs to our dorm, I noticed I had accumulated about twenty mosquito bites on my stubby feet and ankles.
The heartless little bastards. Couldn't they have at least spread out the bloodbath a bit?
I smeared some anti-itch cream onto my feasted upon feet and sighed.
Lesson learned. Don't hang out in the common area after dusk.
But I hate lessons like this. Why can't I learn lessons like where the most delicious ice cream in the world lives and how to get it whenever I want for free and not gain any weight? Where's THAT lesson?
Bee romped into the room as I was irritably shoving the cream back into my bag.
"What happened to your feet?" she demanded. "Oh, they are so puffy. I have to take a picture. A picture of your puffy feet."
Then Bee whipped out her iPhone and photographed my feet. And her feet, too. Because (you'll notice that I'll get a bit racist here) Bee is Asian, and needed to be part of the picture.
"Mosquitoes like you!" Bee gushed. "You must be very intelligent. Mosquitoes only like intelligent people. They can't be bothered with unintelligent blood. Psh."
Then she emailed the photo to me. God knows why. But the subject of her email was, "An Intelligent Person's Feet."
She also emailed me a selfie.
Because, she's, errr...
Asian?
Good lord, I'm a horrible person.
When I'm not eating Bee's food in bags or learning about the sexual inclinations of her relations, I'm wandering Chiang Mai.
I hear pigeons, geckos, yappy dogs, motorbikes, rickshaws, and French.
I believe half of France is in Chiang Mai at this moment.
I smell cigarettes, car exhaust, crepes (half of France is here, after all), sewage, coffee, and deep-fried-god-knows-what.
It is my remarkably uneducated opinion that most of Asia smells like deep-fried-god-knows-what.
I see a hippie cafe. A shop selling comfy, garish pants. Dreadlocks. A restaurant advertising Thai food or western breakfast or --
A 7/11. Temple. Dreadlocks. Massage parlor. 7/11. Tattoo parlor. 7/11. Dreadlocks. Temple. Tourist shop advertising a veritable menagerie of activities with elephants.
7/11.
Dreadlocks.
This is what wandering through Chiang Mai feels like.
What's with the 7/11 infatuation?
Bee had told me that I just "had to taste," this drink called Meiji. And that Meiji could be found at 7/11 (so pretty much every third building).
"You won't be disappointed!" she promised.
Because I've grown rather fond of Bee (as you've probably noticed), I guiltily entered the chain store and purchased the coffee flavored milk.
Only for you, Bee. Only for you.
Eh... I'm a little disappointed, I thought as I sipped the glorified milk.
The colors of Chiang Mai are glorious. The glistening golds,
-- redolent reds,
-- and playful pinks.
I'm glad I have three weeks with which to absorb this vibrant, easy-going, hippie-infested city.
 |
| Why I will never again book a train immediately after a plane. |
 |
| Texture. |
"Aimee!" Bee interrupts me from my writing. "Did you know that the scientific name for gooseberry is "ribus grossularia." That's R-I-B-U-S-G-R-O-S-S-U-L-A-R-I-A. I love gooseberries. And they're so cheap in Thailand. I got this whole bag for twenty baht! Can you believe it?"
Bee leaves this hostel in a few days. I will miss her energy, her enthusiasm for all things food and her generosity, but I will not miss having unidentifiable vegetables stuffed into my mouth whilst mid-chaturanga. Or being interrupted from my work to be told the scientific name for gooseberry.
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