Pinch Me

While the following line may possess a corny-factor rivaling the moral lessons revealed at the end of an episode of "Full House" (if you didn't watch "Full House" in the 90's, you missed out), it has to be said:

Sometimes I still pinch myself. It'll come at the most random moments: when I haggle with a store clerk at a market, realizing that I've just completed a transaction in a language that was about as familiar as Swahili one year ago. When I hop on a motorbike in the pouring rain, watching the water spray six feet in the air as we speed down the soi's towards work. When I order the spiciest dish at the street vendor and can shovel it down without breaking a sweat. That's when it comes - the urge to pinch myself and make sure that it's all real.

So I pinch.

Once.

Twice.

Three times for good luck.

Yup, still here. This is the new reality I've created for myself; one that transcends most of the boundaries of possibility that I could have conceived in the past.

Recently, I found that the best test of reality is to have someone you care about experience this new universe with you. I was lucky enough to host the wonderful Kikuye Inouye a week ago, and to share my new reality with her. The opportunity to show an old friend how I live everyday in this country solidified the fact that I am here, I am living, and I am so freaking happy about it. Plus, it gave me the chance to become a tourist again for a few days. We rode elephants, we took a cooking course, and we visited way too many temples. I even took photographs of random foliage, animals, and people - an activity I had stopped when I realized how lame one looked going on the daily commute with a camera bag around their neck. When Kikuye left to go back to Los Angeles, we both marveled at the fact that I wouldn't be going with her. While her 'escape' from reality was over, I had never left mine. Kikuye coming here was a much better reality-check than some pinch on the arm.