photo credit: onehandedbikers.org
Here’s a little story which is unrelated to IVF (for once 🙂 )
As I have mentioned before WW and I live in the suburbs just outside the city. I’m close enough to walk to work if I lived in the UK but as this is Tha,iland there’s no way I could survive the heat/humidity/sweat factor and so we own a moped. I should stress here that I do not advise people to ride motorbikes in Bang.kok. People are killed every day on our roads and I lived here for over a year before I caved and got one.
As we are out in the sticks it is difficult to get one of the city’s 70,000 taxis and so we use our little moped to tootle out of the housing estate to the shops and main road where civilization begins. We never ride on the busy dual-carriageway. I’m not sure what I’m going to do if/when I’m pregnant. In the UK I’d be horrified at the thought of someone putting themselves at risk on a moped when ‘up the pole’ but here your ideas about safety etc start to adjust. Anyways, a topic for a different day.
So yesterday I was bed bound, feeling sorry for myself after my retrieval operation and WW was still doing a lot of running around for me. She is a fabulous cook and bakers but another wonderful thing about where we live is if you’re not in the mood to cook you can nip out on the buy and buy some delicious street food for under 1 pound.
Every time she goes out alone and is gone for more than 30 mins by Britishness kicks in and I start to worry she fell off…or crashed…or was knocked off…etc. I always feel a sense of relief when the Monster kicks me in the stomach or scratches me when scrabbling to the front door because she can hear the bike coming a mile away.
Yesterday when WW got back she came upstairs and dramatically announced, ‘Something scary happened to me on the bike! I almost took a motorbike taxi home!’ (Motorbike taxis have been described as ‘the closest thing to extreme sports that most people experience when in Ban.gkok’)
‘Oh my god, what happened!’ I practically shout, examining her for injury with a million horrible scenarios running through my head.
‘Well I was riding to the noddle shop and when I came back to the bike with the food I saw it!’
‘What?!’ I asked, imagining fearsome feral soi dogs getting territorial around our crappy moped.
At this point I started to laugh. Global warming is doing some crazy things to the weather here. By October monsoon season should be over and peak season should have graced us without the heat of February-May and the rain of June-September but rainy season is being stubborn this year. Of all the horrible, scary creatures here (huge ass spiders, snakes, cockroaches, rats, mosquito, ticks, wild dogs, monitor lizards, crocodile type things, the worlds meanest looking turtles) WW is terrified of the two I find quite cute- frogs and mini geckos known locally as jinjok. It works out quite well for us as she removes any creepy crawlies that make their way into our home, I chase/catch/ trigger nervous detachment of wiggly tails in the million of jinjok who also share our home and we both take turns standing on the furniture shrieking.
‘Where on the bike?’ I ask, wondering why she wouldn’t just shoo a frog off the footwell where the Monster usually enjoys a breezy bike ride.
‘IN THE POCKET!’
‘The pocket near the handle bars? How in the hell did it get up there?’
‘I don’t know but it wouldn’t get out. I had to ride home with it staring at me the whole way.’ She shuddered.