After two months away. I am back in my beloved jungle hut.

It’s not really a hut. It’s a tourist-style beach bungalow with camping or hut-like aspects.
I’ve have come and gone from it for about six years. That’s enough to see certain patterns become rituals.

On return I:

1: Dust down the hut of its thick parachute of cobwebs, and run as that debris settles.
2. Hose down enough of the kitchen and bath areas so I can at least enter without being completely nauseated by the lizard toilet it has become.
3. Look forward to going barefoot one of these days, a few sluices from now.
4. Remember that distinctive smell of a hut locked in the damp for months, a strong bad smell.
5. There are areas still in quarantine, to be handled in due course.

The Singing Tokay Lizard, always resident

 

Resident tokay lizards are showing signs of acclimatizing.

Day I, they disappeared.
Day 2, the alpha male stuck his head out their favourite rafter on the balcony. He’s fat and silvery grey.
Day 3, Fat Silver made the usual morning trek they all make: down from the attic via the bathroom, along the stairs, straight up where two walls join, along the groove where wall meets ceiling. Then they usually nap glued to a wall.

 

They don’t move much until sundown. He’ll retrace his steps, hover over the threshold between kitchen and bath, and when I’m not looking he’ll do his daily crap.

Evidence suggests they have not changed this location. I have placed paper underneath.

This is what happens to all magazines that enter this dwelling, regardless of artistic or intellectual merit.

 

A note on toilets in Bangkok: A shopping mall distinguished female and male toilet facilities with icons of either shapely red lips or black handlebar moustaches. My favourite remains this one:

 

Back in Thailand, where you can pick your nose

In the week I’ve been back, what scores the most gratitude points is: warmth, and no aching joints, hurrah!
At the other end of the scale is the tooth-picking v. nose-picking issue.
It’s nice to be back where it’s OK to use a toothpick at the table, right after a meal. Right in public. Women are expected to use one hand as a shield, but toothpicks are provided at most tables with napkins and condiments.
Where I grew up in New Jersey (more on that later), this was not the case at all. It was considered disgusting. The only people who did this and got away with it, were large scary men you wouldn’t want to argue with.
Maybe it’s a middle class thing.
On the other hand, nose-picking is completely accepted on your average Thai street, and this is something most foreigners have a hard time getting used to.
I have adopted the toothpicking habit only.
so far, so good.

 

Monsoon, laundry, patience

In Monsoon season, you live in a swamp for two months. The only let-up are fierce winds that scare even those born and bred here, and blow others off the roads into ditches with rocks. You just stay home, and some people go crazy there.
Laundry can hang for days and never dries. Some of it just gets moldy and needs to go through the laundry machine again. It’s a rather frustrating season, is rainy time. And boring.
Not big or deep problems, frustration and boredom. Long, long problems. Problems that ask for patience. That’s why some people go loopy.
There was a goodbye party for someone who lived here fifteen years, but, it rained so hard, most people had to stay home.
The next day, I was going to go buy groceries, but it started raining hard again, so I stayed home and did boring things with noodles and tinned tuna.
Last night I thought I’d join friends for dinner, but guess what? I could hardly get out the door.
Boredom is the thing with monsoon. Boredom and not having your house blown away.