Notice: Scrambled

This is the sign that shows up on Lao TV screens if the picture freezes up for more than a few seconds. It seemed to describe my take on things this week, too.

A baby has been staying in the room next to mine at the guesthouse for the past few days. The first day, I could hear his mother and older sister cooing at him and his gurgling reply, as if to say, "This is new. This is different. I'm getting attention. I like this." By yesterday, the baby had joined the frozen television screens of the land. Notice: Scrambled.

I could identify with that baby. I have been scrambled, too. Yes, the honeymoon period is over. I have been greeted and situated and now I have a job to do. Sometimes it's wonderful. Sometimes not so much.

Getting sleep last night helped. The baby's family had departed. Getting up and moving today helped, too. As I snapped on my fanny pack, slung my backpack into place, threw my ESL tote over one shoulder and held my umbrella with my free hand (umbrellas are Lao sunscreen), I walked out the door feeling better. As if to mirror my upbeat mood, a street vendor on a scooter with a sidecar drove past, playing "The Mexican Hat Dance."