We took a road trip on Tuesday to a little town a few hours away from Bangkok. We were loaded down with bags, which include six huge bags of dried fish and three big bags of curriculum. Whatever we once called normal is over. This was only the beginning sign that our journey would be full of traditional Thai road trip experiences.

It was a long nine hours turned into twelve due to stops. One of those stops was to a most delicious pizza place that we visited a year ago and have talked about since.

It was thoroughly savored.

Another stop was to a lovely little English bookshop that was also very worth making us late. But we arrived to our destination about ten o’clock at night, exhausted.

Due to budget constraints, I had told Yim earlier that we should look for a guesthouse for 500 baht, but 800 baht was okay. Five hundred baht in Mae Sot is on the low end, but can still get you a very decent room. At one of our favorite places in Mae Sot, its a little artsy, clean room with a comfortable bed and delicious breakfast.

But in this little town, asking for a 500 baht guesthouse was a mistake.

It was a mistake for a couple reasons. First, we had two twin beds, both covered in a bed skirt. Not a blanket, not a sheet–but a bed skirt.

I made a second mistake of lifting up the bed skirt to look underneath, which is just not a good idea. Ignorance is bliss, and knowledge makes it hard to sleep.

I’ll just say we pulled out our own bedding that we had brought for the jungle and used that a night earlier than we expected.

It had both a urinal and a Western toilet, so I guess that is a win–until Stephen flushed the urinal and water came out the bottom. The purpose felt a little defeated.

While in the bathroom, I discovered there were rats crawling above us as well, which hindered sleep a little bit.

The shower was hilarious. The bathroom had a slanted ceiling, and the shower was at the low end of the slant. I had to duck for both the ceiling and the shower head, nevermind Stephen having to bend over at his waist. There was also a large tub of water right under the shower, requiring you to lean over the bucket while ducking. If it wasn’t inappropriate to include a shower photo, I would have.

And then we were off, running errands around town before heading into the middle of nowhere for a few weeks, determining we’d find a slightly better accommodation on our way back through.

The last leg of our journey was a long, steep hike. Some of the students came to meet us at the bottom of the mountain and patiently hiked at a white person’s pace. I had been using Karen with the students as we went, or at least trying to. We joined the entire group of students toward the end, at which point I was exhausted and wasn’t really paying attention to their chatter. Until I heard the male student right behind me, who had been walking with us the whole way, tell the others, “She understands Karen! She’s pretty,” obviously correcting them to not insult me since I’d understand! Awesome.

We have now arrived at our destination, where it is actually cold, ladies and gentlemen!  We are layering and drinking coffee for warmth, and it is lovely! Stephen is pretty much thrilled.  The bucket bathing is much less enjoyable when it is this cold, but everything else is quite a bit more enjoyable. It is even making my soul feel a bit more wintry.

I would say more, but this blog has already taken me hours, as the internet is slower than dial up. Maybe you’ll hear from me soon, and maybe I’ll just settle for a book in the middle of the jungle.

It always starts with something small, then I am sitting somewhere I don’t belong, hours later, wondering how I got here.

This time it started with a thirteen-year-old girl with a toothache, holding her jaw yesterday afternoon. I asked if she was okay, which led to her asking for medicine for the pain. When I looked at her teeth, the cavity was evident. I have seen cavities on Stephen’s teeth before–a small little speck that I can see developing. This was a crater. It was harder to find the tooth around the cavity.

I told her we should probably go to the clinic since Stephen and I are heading out of town. We scheduled for 8am on Monday morning to head over to Mae Tao.

Then she brought her little sister and brother over to our house.

Same same.

They both had clearly evident cavities that made me cringe just to look at them. It turned into all four of us planning to take the motorbike the next morning.

By the next morning, another sister was joining us, and despite an attempt, the motorbike wasn’t going to work. We can get four on, but five was just too many. I was off to the office to borrow a truck.

The littlest, a five-year-old boy had put up a fight getting into the car. Apparently he had heard about the dentist. I let him kick me on the way to the car, got him buckled in, and handed him Angry Birds. And by 9am, I was driving down the road with four kiddos buckled into the seats around me. One was trying to play Angry Birds while another tried to take it away; then I’d hear, “Kelli! Kelli!” when they got stuck on a screen they didn’t understand–probably accidentally buying something.

We made it to the clinic and managed our way through the registration line. After I wait ten to fifteen minutes, a staff member usually comes out to help me specifically. This is most likely because I’m white, but I do sincerely appreciate it. I usually get cut in front of multiple times and I start to wonder how I’ll get to the front. It just doesn’t seem right to shove around sick people in a culture I am trying to love and embrace, but that seems to be the most-used tactic.

When we made it to the dental room, I was still naive of what was coming. These are stellar kids, from a really stellar family in the community. They are really well behaved. I was also just thinking they would simply fill a cavity–it can’t be that bad, right? Honestly, I don’t know. I have great teeth–well, after three years of braces and five surgeries–and I haven’t had a cavity filled yet. I just didn’t think it’d be that bad.

Well, it wasn’t fillings they had in mind. The oldest thirteen-year-old girl received a filling, but the three youngest each got an extraction. I have had fifteen of those, and they aren’t fun. I’m also fairly certain I had better anesthetics. I could be wrong, but those huge shots into their gums didn’t look pleasant.

Look at those feet kicking!

I don’t know how to describe situations like this. I do know we brought the show, again.

I know the littlest one screamed and screamed, but was small enough to hold down. He forgave us, and nearly fell asleep while I held him and his photo was taken by visitors to the clinic. He’ll probably help them raise money for more migrant medical care!

I know the eight-year-old was bigger and more stubborn to control. They attempted, and gave up. We tried again, this time with me in the dental chair, her laid out on my lap, my arms holding her down while they pulled out her teeth. I know everyone was watching, and I know that little girl was strong! Holding down kids is a workout.

I know the older two were trying to hard to be brave, and really did a great job. I know we were all glad it was over.

We stopped by the little market shop so they could each pick something out. I know why parents do this, too. For $4 we got a plastic gun, a little doll dressed in blue, and two packages of grapes.

We survived. But it was while I was sitting in the dentists’ chair with a little girl locked tight in my arms that I thought: I don’t belong here. How did this become my Monday morning? When did I suddenly obtain four children? And why are they all crying and bleeding?!

After having friends over for dinner, we spent our Saturday evening showing the kids Google Earth. We had opened it to find a shop in town, at which point we learned they have street view in Mae Sot. We pulled up a picture of our neighborhood, which the kids saw and were enthralled with.

And before you know it, the “stay in the community space” rule was out the window. We had eight kids piled around the laptop (another rule broken) amazed at the capacity to “walk” down the street with the click of a button.  They showed us where different parents work, some as house cleaners in homes around the area, others in small factories along our road. We looked at their school and friends houses. They showed us the three churches that they go to for different activities.

We showed them our office and our home church. We showed them where we go to swim. They asked to see the market, which I think was the farthest, craziest place they could think of. They loved to see the storefronts and comment on how beautiful the things were inside. It was a new version of online window shopping.

We showed them America, trying to show them our parents houses since they have met my mom and dad & Stephen’s mom. They kept asking and pointing, if this was in fact America. We said yes, but then decided that they should see another side of America, since West Little Rock isn’t exactly a balanced view. We pulled up New York City. It was here that they started pointed at all the blurred faces of people saying, “Anglais! Anglais!” (White person! White person!)  And then, for the quote of the night, Yedi said, “My name is…” and pointed to one of the white men, trying to recall his name. She was clearly thinking so hard trying to remember his name, and I didn’t know how to tell her she probably didn’t know this random man in New York City on Google Earth…

I really love these moments. The unique ways that we get to see more of their lives and they get to see a taste of ours.  The silly ways we can communicate and the odd instances where I am reminded of just how much I love them.  God has really broken us for them, in a way that I feel very vulnerable. I really love them, but we are just here, together in this friendship, for such a short, unique moment in time. We don’t know when we will go or when they will go. We, as foreigners living in this home, are replaceable. We, as friends that drive them to the hospital, are replaceable. We, as expatriates, are temporarily here. They, as illegal migrants, are temporarily here.

So it is all so temporary, so unknown, and ultimately so odd. But God has really broken us for them, so that a chance to look at Google Earth together is a privilege and a great joy!

It’s been a long year, friends. And really, this guy is the only one who really knows how long its been and has been there through all of it. So we headed off this weekend to celebrate four truly good years married, and the almost-end of this really long year.

First, we borrowed one of Partners’ trucks for the journey, and this was such a privilege. Driving is such a privilege! You can leave when its convenient for you, stop when you’d like to, go the speed you feel safe, listen to the music you choose. It’s really a beautiful privilege and made the weekend much more enjoyable.

And since we could stop where we wanted, we found this in a bookshop on the way: The Giver, my favorite book, and the four-part series translated into Thai! I can’t even read it, and it brought be great joy. I’m glad others are able to read it.

Then we arrived to Sukhothai, a small little touristy town just a couple hours from Mae Sot. And stayed a Thai Thai Sukhothai Guesthouse, with its perfectly Thai name.

We stayed in a lovely little bungalow, complete with swans on the bed. That’s fancy for us.

Sukhothai is known for its temple ruins, so we bicycled around the small “old city” and toured the ancient remains. Despite being quite warm, because we are still in lovely Thailand, it was a really enjoyable bicycle ride.

We are really thankful for a day or two away; we are really thankful for the past four years. And we are hopeful for the next one coming.

There is a funny side to most hospital visits. Perhaps it is God’s way of keeping us sane.

While Aung Moo was in the hospital in a poor condition, there were still funny things going on, it just seemed a little crass to vocalize them. Now that he’s doing much better, I feel better about sharing them. Are the stories still funny weeks later? I don’t know; you get to be the judge.

The day after he was admitted to the public hospital, I asked a friend to come with me to help translate. She knows Thai and would be a huge help with the nurses. I had last seen him the ER the night before, so he should be admitted, but we weren’t sure where. This is where Thai comes in very helpful.

But I also wanted to make sure I had his name correct. I was already in town, so I asked Stephen to confirm with the neighborhood how to say his name and text it to me, which I’d then read on my way into the hospital.  As I’m running into the hospital, late {as always} to meet this {always very timely} friend, I look at my phone to see a bombardment of texts.

What?!?

Despite his great efforts to clear up the pronunciation (or pronoun citation), I had to call him to clarify.

My friend & I then started our rounds at the hospital to find him. We started at the main information desk, but ultimately had to visit at least four nurses stations throughout the hospital, taking us over an hour. It was really worrying me that he might have died, since he was in such poor condition the day before. Each time, we’d say his name, that he was about 40 years old (I was told he was 36 that morning, 38 at the next hospital, and 40 later, so there seemed to be some debate), he had been admitted into the ER the day before for detoxification (what we thought it was at the time).

The funny part, though, was stopping at each nurses station. They would ask the name of who we were looking for. Aung Moo is really a common Burmese and similar to a lot of other Burmese names, so the nurses would then suggest different people: 35, lives in Mae Pa, hemorrhoids, admitted for five days. Is that him?

No.

Then they’d suggest another person, each time telling us their age, where they live, what they have, and how long they’ve been there. It was the most egregious violation of HIPAA I’ve ever seen, and it was difficult not to laugh.

It was also really impressive that we found him, since we didn’t know the correct diagnosis and there were more people with similar names than I could count!

So, now that he’s in a better state, we’re able to laugh a little more at the situation. We’re still praying for healing as he finishes up antibiotics on Tuesday or Wednesday, and they’ll do another spinal tap to evaluate the brain damage from the encephalitis.

Thanks for both praying with us and laughing with us 🙂