June 1, 2010
Dear Peace Corps Experience,
It's times like these, reading DB's Happy Easter (2009 Christmas Letter), that I really miss you.
I miss mime-ing to the guy at the gadget store that the bum sprayer on my toilet exploded in the wee hours of the night--Help!
I miss wanting cookies so badly I thought I might try to milk a water buffalo, churn my own butter, and build an oven out of a clay pot and roasty bamboo.
I miss the friendly smiles of strangers and the graceful sendoff of Loy Kratong.
I miss bai-teeow with some of the only other people in the world who know the significance of a good honk and the numbers 1.1.6.
I miss mountain monkeys in heat, beany ice cream, and MC Hammer pants in all the shades of the rainbow.
I miss cow neeow matmuang, beetle juiced grannies, Shake Banana, Shake, Shake Banana, Seth's front porch, and the joy of being Weifenbached.
At times like this, I can almost hear the walls of my apartment whispering, "farang."
Sigh. Time for a plane ticket. Towrai?
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