Sunday Postcard #7
Bakong Temple, Siem Reap, June 2018
Eric
and I spent today seeing some of the southern temples in the Angkor
world heritage site. The long walkway to the Bakong temple made me think
of my first solo trip, when I took myself to Chenonceau. I stayed at a
hostel for the first time, ate a crepe and a kir at the only restaurant
in Tours not showing the World Cup, and doubled back through all the
rooms of the castle that I wanted to at my own pace. I was so nervous
about being on my own but so proud of making all the plans for myself.
It felt good to be reminded of that today, on a different continent,
eight years older.
I can never get enough of those pink bougainvillea, either.
Sunday Postcard #6
Siem Reap, May 2018
Fried noodles with
a runny egg eaten at a plastic table is one of my favorite things in
the world. I have been lucky enough to try this in more than one place, and
I’m always a bit in awe of the fact that I’ve had the opportunities.
(To take the earnestness of this story down a level or two, Eric ended
up with food poisoning likely from this meal.)
Sunday Postcard 5
Lotus fields, Siem Reap, May 2018
A
couple weeks ago Eric and I joined a bike tour from our hostel to watch
the sunset over lotus fields outside the city. I haven’t ridden a bike
in six years and was wobbly and nervous. After the hour-long ride out,
where I was solidly at the back of the pack, one of the tour leads asked
if I’d ever ridden a bike before. It was embarrassing, but not as bad
as the ride back when I catapulted myself into a ditch (I was fine,
thank goodness). I’ve spent the time since then being thankful I wasn’t
hurt and thinking about failing in public. Most often, my failures are
private - if a pitch or application gets rejected, it’s between the
editor or admissions officer and me. I don’t often have to be bad at
something in front of someone else, much less a tour group or collection
of kind bystanders watching me get pulled out of a mud puddle. Maybe
it’s something I should try to do more, though probably not on a bike
for a while.
Ann Arbor, Michigan April 2018
Every morning when I walked to work I looked
at the reflection of the graduate school in the mirrored windows of the
modern language building. The beauty of the older structure captured in
the new(er) one was a favorite view that I usually admired alone. It
felt like my own moment on a campus that is always full and in motion.
Krabi, Thailand, May 2012
Eric and I arrived in Krabi on an overnight train. The ride left me
disoriented and I woke up at dawn our first morning. We searched for
breakfast on nearly-empty streets. A woman walked through the main road
towards a temple on what I soon realized was a daily route. She left
food in piles for the stray cats and dogs that wandered around the area.
By the way they followed her, it was clear they expected her. It was a
rare chance to see the evidence of how someone matters to other
creatures, how much others rely upon someone’s acts of care.
Night Sky Hotel, Da Nang, January 2018
We
woke up to a power outage at our hotel. The hotel still served a full
breakfast by candlelight. We listened to the rain outside while the
chef, an older woman, instructed us on how to properly season and eat
our noodle soup. I devoured mine along with the mini creme caramel she
served. The women working the front desk insisted on high-level customer
service despite the outage. They carried luggage almost as big as they
were up the many flights of stairs, as the elevator wasn’t running.
Sunday Postcard is a new project where I share a photo and story each week.
View from the Belmont stop, October 2015
Every
weekday for two and a half years, I caught the Purple Line Express to
Evanston. There was one couple in their mid-thirties who took the same
route. If they were waiting when I got to the platform, I knew I’d be on
time to work. In my second summer, the woman was pregnant and had a
baby. For several months the man rode alone while she was on maternity
leave. I got to glimpse a small piece of their lives every morning. This photo is from the last day I commuted on that route. Though
we never spoke, I think of that couple as often as I remember the
sunrises over the lake.
