new years news
New Year's has been for us, these first twelve hours, a capsule of our year: delirious romance, joyful commitment, Thailand, and illness.
We spent the evening at a beautiful hill country bed and breakfast, ate some fantastic food, and fell in love all over again. How beautiful my bride is! Radiant and lovely. And she loves me so deeply. We're both deeply grateful.
When we got back home, we figured it was a good time to try to call Moon, our Thai friend whose beach resort was probably hit by the tsunami. We started clicking around on it. My brother had sent a reassurance that Ko Chang was spared because it was in the Gulf of Thailand and not the Indian Ocean. But he didn't know that there are two Ko Changs, and we stayed on the less famous one, plum in the Indian Ocean, right in the path of the wave, with only its twin island to the south to possibly protect it.
We couldn't find any news releases on it, but we did see mention that Ranong — the nearest seaside town — had 94 dead. Not encouraging. Catherine suggested, though, that we try to follow bulletin boards. Thanks to a site cached by Google, we found mention of our Ko Chang, and, several minutes later, actual news of the area.
It said that the twin island, Ko Payyam, was hit pretty badly and there were rumors that a few had died, but that Ko Chang had it pretty mild. What did that mean? Everything destroyed but everybody alive? Another post said that the supermarket was laid waste. The "supermarket" is a cement shack the size of our bedroom, and it's only a few hundred yards from our bungalows. But then — mirabile dictu! — someone else said the magic words: Tommy's bungalows. They'd had their boat fill up with water, but nothing else. No other damage? Our hope had been correct: they're on the southernmost tip of the island, a hero's swim from the twin island which had totally protected it — and the protection was so narrow that the neighboring inlet's single building, the market, had been flooded. Gratitude. We tried in vain to call Moon; the call didn't get through. But we went to bed relieved.
Relieved and a bit sick. I've had a bad headache for several days, and there hasn't been a day the last month I haven't coughed up goop. Catherine was feeling pretty bad too. This morning, I awoke to the sound of her coughing and then crying in pain. She went to get a yak bucket, and came back and kept crying and writhing, just like it was July again.
I was reminded of how much I love her. I leaned over and kissed those bitterly distorted lips, still flexed in a sob, and laid my arm over that heaving breast, and prayed that things would get better.
We spent the evening at a beautiful hill country bed and breakfast, ate some fantastic food, and fell in love all over again. How beautiful my bride is! Radiant and lovely. And she loves me so deeply. We're both deeply grateful.
When we got back home, we figured it was a good time to try to call Moon, our Thai friend whose beach resort was probably hit by the tsunami. We started clicking around on it. My brother had sent a reassurance that Ko Chang was spared because it was in the Gulf of Thailand and not the Indian Ocean. But he didn't know that there are two Ko Changs, and we stayed on the less famous one, plum in the Indian Ocean, right in the path of the wave, with only its twin island to the south to possibly protect it.
We couldn't find any news releases on it, but we did see mention that Ranong — the nearest seaside town — had 94 dead. Not encouraging. Catherine suggested, though, that we try to follow bulletin boards. Thanks to a site cached by Google, we found mention of our Ko Chang, and, several minutes later, actual news of the area.
It said that the twin island, Ko Payyam, was hit pretty badly and there were rumors that a few had died, but that Ko Chang had it pretty mild. What did that mean? Everything destroyed but everybody alive? Another post said that the supermarket was laid waste. The "supermarket" is a cement shack the size of our bedroom, and it's only a few hundred yards from our bungalows. But then — mirabile dictu! — someone else said the magic words: Tommy's bungalows. They'd had their boat fill up with water, but nothing else. No other damage? Our hope had been correct: they're on the southernmost tip of the island, a hero's swim from the twin island which had totally protected it — and the protection was so narrow that the neighboring inlet's single building, the market, had been flooded. Gratitude. We tried in vain to call Moon; the call didn't get through. But we went to bed relieved.
Relieved and a bit sick. I've had a bad headache for several days, and there hasn't been a day the last month I haven't coughed up goop. Catherine was feeling pretty bad too. This morning, I awoke to the sound of her coughing and then crying in pain. She went to get a yak bucket, and came back and kept crying and writhing, just like it was July again.
I was reminded of how much I love her. I leaned over and kissed those bitterly distorted lips, still flexed in a sob, and laid my arm over that heaving breast, and prayed that things would get better.
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