Friday, April 16

For breakfast, we had the jackfruit sticky rice we'd bought at the market the day before, served with coconut cream and crispy yellow mung beans (which lent more crunch than flavor).

Then I went for a walk all by myself to check out the big grocery store that's about a mile away. I wanted the freedom to really take my time—looking at everything, putting off making decisions about buying anything, and circling back to reexamine the items I'd already looked at. Basically, all the things I like to do at grocery stores that drive Roman crazy.

On the walk there, I saw pretty frangipani trees...

And a tiger-themed bus stop bench...

I took an unfamiliar route to get there, turning left just before reaching Suan Phlu Park. It was like entering a different world—suddenly I was on a narrow street crowded with motorcycles and little storefronts. The houses were close together and looked more ramshackle than any others I'd seen in Sathorn, and the people on the streets stared at me pretty openly. I am guessing they don't see a lot of foreigners on that street.

Or maybe they were thinking, Does she know this street is a dead end? Because—even though my phone had directed me to this route—when I reached a turn in the road, the street was blocked by a fence topped in barbed wire, the gate locked with a padlock. I had to turn around and make the long walk back up the narrow street.

I walked through Suan Phlu Park instead, which was quiet at that hour, and full of pigeons.

It was funny visiting the supermarket the day after visiting the wet market. They sell similar produce, but it's much more expensive and packaged so austerely.

It is kind of astonishing what you can buy in Bangkok—Mission tortillas, Jif peanut butter, Ghiradelli chocolate chips. I didn't buy much, though—I was walking back, I'm not really cooking much, and I can get cheaper produce closer to home. I mostly just picked up some dried fruit and nuts for breakfast cereal, and whole milk for my tea (which is hard to find here).

I am kinda dreaming about making cheeseburgers, but the only ground beef they had was pre-formed into patties that were an unappealing dark brown color. I thought of a cooking class we took in Vietnam, where we made ground pork by taking two cleavers to a piece of pork belly that had been laid out on a thick wooden slab. But I only have a crappy little steak knife and a small plastic cutting board at the Airbnb, so I don't think burgers are in the cards for me just yet.

Roman had gone out exploring, so it was quiet back at home. I did laundry, picked up more water and soda water, and applied for a few jobs.

Since we have a little time here, would you like to hear about some of our roommates? We have many (warning—bug picture coming up).

We have two cucarachas living with us. George lives on the main floor and can usually be seen in the evenings, hanging out on the kitchen or living room walls (or once, inside the trash bag we use for empty soda water bottles). On our second day here, I had a foolish plan to evict George, and trapped him between a glass teacup and a manila envelope and released him a few yards down the alleyway. But he came back the next day.

Fred lives in the upstairs bathroom, and has the rather disconcerting habit of hiding on the far side of the spray nozzle next to the toilet, so one had better be mindful when reaching for the nozzle—look out for two large dark brown antennae sticking out on either side of it.

And yes, I do find it helpful to use the Spanish word, to imagine that there are only two of them residing here, and to give them names.

We have several slightly more appealing roommates. Lucy and Magnolia hang out on the mid-floor bathroom windows, on the other side of the screen. They can be seen all times of the day, sometimes chomping on small insects.

Lucy and Magnolia by night

Lucy by day

Arnold closely resembles Lucy and Magnolia, but scampers around on the inside of the bathroom, and is a less frequent visitor.

And this is tiny Rodolfo.

There is another tiny gecko who lives on the uppermost level, but for some reason we haven't given them a name. They seem to have the run of that level.

After a relaxing afternoon, Roman and I went to the streets carts off Rama IV Road for dinner. We split up—Roman found a soup cart he liked the look of, and I went in search of papaya salad. The older woman at the som tam cart didn't speak any English (and I still speak next-to-no-Thai), but a young woman who worked at 7-Eleven was also ordering food from the cart, and she helped translate for us.

I found Roman in a secret covered seating area, tucked away behind his soup cart. From there, we could peer at the street carts from behind, and at the street beyond.

Roman had soup with beef, fish balls, and noodles. My papaya salad cost only 35 baht (including the sticky rice) and was spicy and funky with fermented crab and fermented anchovies.

Beast

Oh, and! At the little tables, they gave us metal cups full of ice cubes, and then put down a pitcher of slightly green-tinged water. It was pandan water!

Oh, I felt so validated.