6 December 2020
[Above photo: Kelly working, from my series, The Descent of Man.]
Thanksgiving Day brought an avalanche of food and good cheer among the 5 of us celebrating together. I must, again, extoll the virtues of our gravy, Queen Mother of Thanksgiving, which was judged superb by all present, turning to Glory the mashed potatoes, turkey, and dressing (No stuffing here. It slows the cooking, using more gas.). The bounty came from our own shopping and cooking, from Jose and Irene, from Connor, and, with a bit of bad planning, our first Fresca Food Box which was delivered on Thanksgiving Day. It is probably the worst day of the year on which to receive a large box of fresh vegetables.
A box will come each week for a month and we’ll probably end the service then. There is always the element of surprise, which is fun, but there is the constant pressure to be done with last week’s box before the next one comes. Also, if they want to bring you lots of root vegetables and you are ok with a small number of root vegetables but prefer green leafies and tomatoes, you are in for disappointment. Having tended vegetable gardens for many years I know the work involved. I also know the miracle it is to plant a seed and have it develop into a plant producing tasty, nourishing leaves/fruit/roots. I hate to waste food. The boxes can seem oppressive.
Consequently, two nights ago we were trying to deal with the complexity of refrigerators filled with fresh vegetables. Kelly made a huge curry with all of the broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms. I made a large coleslaw with vinaigrette of the cabbage and carrots. At lunch we finished off a container of gazpacho, another of salad greens, and a container of chili. Gradually we make progress emptying the shelves, so eating feels like an accomplishment, as well as a simple pleasure. Laughter echoes from the kitchen.
For example, my Hasselbeck potatoes looked swell but are basically a baked potato that could more easily be garnished at the table than during the cooking process; I have spoken about them repeatedly for several weeks and they turn out better in metaphor than reality. Kelly made a guacamole with an avocado a friend gave him; it was unripe and he put in nearly an entire, very hot red onion. It was inedible, despite adding extra limes, a bit of brown sugar to counter the bitterness, and letting it sit overnight. We dumped it into the curry where it was nicely absorbed and the curry was none the worse. His gazpacho, if simple to make, is wonderful; whoever paired cucumbers and tomatoes in a cold soup deserves a Nobel, I think. Or some Michelin stars to affix to their shirt. I subscribed to the NYTimes cooking section so I now can select from 137 recipes for cole slaw. Probably a copy of The Joy of Cooking or the NYTimes Cookbook would be a more economical approach.
Yesterday we “put up” the Christmas tree, a 2 foot tall cedar in a pot we purchased at a nursery on Kandawgyi Lake. With a 3 foot long string of battery-powered colorful LEDs, it serves as something between a tip of the hat and a totem, reminding us of Christmas here in the tropics. Since I am not religious—even less inclined, having just seen “Spotlight”, which reinforces the fallibility of humans acting as God’s messengers—the holiday is a mix of happy memories when the kids were young and excited by it, miserable memories because I was so inept at buying gifts for my wife, and a sense of otherworldliness having this celebration in the heat. “Everything is commodified.” seems to match well with this holiday—-I’ll take it for $500. A bit cynical.
There is a lot of life in the tropics. There are geckos scooting all over the inside walls, calling to their mates and eating insects. There is the occasional large—-1 ½“ x ½”—cockroach in the pantry or bathroom. Plenty of centi- or millipedes (Who is counting?) inside and out; they are much smaller than the massive ones in Malawi. The rare mosquito inside, fat and slow and easily dispatched. They carry dengue, not malaria, but in its hemorrhagic presentation it, too, can be fatal. Irene called us to see a beautiful snake in a bush in their garden. It was slender with fine green and yellow markings. It “jumped” from one bush to the other, travelling along above the ground that way. Irene was convinced it was a krait (very venomous) but Kelly identified it on Google as a Burmese whipsnake whose venom might kill a bird or small rodent but not a human. Excepting the mosquitoes and cockroaches, we all live in harmony, keeping our distance.
I’m applying for funding to continue my teaching. It is a laborious process, learning a new way to present myrself, my project, and my hoped-for deliverables. But it also stimulates me to organize my thoughts; I am definitely not a linear thinker. The recent 3 day IACAPAP (International Association of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry and Allied Professions) biennial conference, Zoomed across all time zones from Singapore, was terrific. Hearing committed academics discuss their interests is inspiring to me and helps me to think more deeply about my course and my larger plans here. I realize, again, how interacting with my students inspires me.
In constructing a budget, I constantly low-ball myself. I think about the poor women selling vegetables on the street and my professor and students’ miserable pittance of government salaries and work from that. It turns out that all foreign organizations, including Save the Children, the Red Cross, Amnesty International, etc. pay reasonable wages. Kelly has been a great help in the perspective and organization department. I won’t get rich but I won’t eat up my retirement when I get funded.
I note that I’m not cranking this out on Sunday anymore. It’s amazing how much more time you have to write if you live alone. Or, I suppose, if you discipline yourself. Please don’t worry, as I’ve heard some do, if this isn’t up by Sunday in your town. I’m undisciplined when class is out, not perishing from a coronavirus infection or snakebite.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 