My long weekend in Chiang Mai coincided with snowapolliza in DC.
CNN put Mr. Wonderful and Daughter in a hotel, effectively trapping them at work for days. Our Son had the singular pleasure of digging out of a mountain of snow and wondering if he’d starve.
My last days in Bangkok, Mr. W reported another two blizzards. There was 60 inches of snow on the ground. I might not be able to fly back because the east coast was closed.
I coped by suffering through a massage and a pedicure.
I went by boat back to Wat Pho to see the Reclining Buddha and make an offering to the blessing bowls.
Afterwards there was time for a goodbye lunch with Miss Peg. We had a favorite place with great food, service and desserts.
BONUS! The restaurant was filled with fat Farang and their prostitute girlfriends. There was also an Englishwoman wearing a designer dress, black gloves to her elbows, tons of diamonds and a hat the size of a hula-hoop.
“Wow,” I said to Miss Peg, “We need to think carefully about where we sit to watch everyone in this zoo.”
Our waitress was furious about the table of prostitutes and johns. She slapped our menus down while glaring at the loud, laughing diners. She barely looked at us when she took our order. I’m surprised she didn’t set someone on fire with her eyes.
“Life is uncertain, Miss Peg informed me, “so I’m having lemon tart for lunch.” The waitress marched off.
“I don’t think she’s as happy as we are,” I ventured.
WACK! A lemon tart the size of a bottle cap slapped down in front of Miss Peg. The waitress stomped away. The look on Miss Peg’s face was priceless.
I laughed until I was crying and coughing. I had barely gotten myself under control when a sandwich the size of my head slammed down in front of me. We howled.
We finally calmed down enough to eat. To my everlasting admiration, Miss Peg made that lemon tart last until I finished. She ate pieces the size of a pinhead with her knife and fork. Have I ever mentioned that she went to Catholic School and had classes in ‘deportment’?
That night, the family walked me to the gate of the compound. I wai’d the guards. Gary lifted his hand and a taxi skidded across 4 lanes of traffic and jumped the curb onto the sidewalk. “My chariot!” I couldn’t help by laugh.
“Gary,” Miss Peg exclaimed, horrified, “Make sure he’s sober.”
“No worries,” I said, “It’s not my karma to die on the way home.” Truly, it was a thrilling ride to the airport with a driver who was as high as college in the 1970’s.
My seatmate on the plane home was a Cambodian woman who’d married an American. She is going to publish a Cambodian cookbook. How cool is that?
Thank you Peg and Gary, for giving me the experience of a lifetime.
DC looked like the End of Days. I’ve never seen so much snow.
Mr. W dug out the driveway. When he’d tried to raise the garage door, it jammed, trapping the cars inside. He had to dig out my Parents driveway, freeing up a car to collect me from the airport.
I measured the piled up snow on the side of our driveway. TEN feet! I don’t think I’m worth the effort.
It wasn’t till I saw his face in the crowd that I realized how badly I’d missed him.
He is my home.