Rain on the Roof

                I woke up this morning to the sound of rain gently beating against the roof, roosters crowing, pots and pans clanking, and one of my neighbors, a man, shouting something to somebody across the street. Mornings here tend to start the same way, sometimes with the added stimulant of the gong beating at the wat across the street or Isan folk music followed by the village news being broadcasted over the loudspeaker mounted to a concrete electricity pole in front of our house. Usually first thing in the morning I can also count on the traveling “market,” a pick-up truck that carries various food ingredients and household supplies, to honk its horn loudly as it travels through the main road in our village, notifying everyone of its presence. Our neighbors across the street start pounding their tools, plying tin to make gutters for collecting rain water. As little as a couple of months ago, most of these things drove me absolutely crazy. (Pretty much everything besides the sound of rain, which a couple of months ago was really uncommon, drove me crazy.) Now it’s starting to feel comfortable. It helps that it’s cooling down and that the rain is starting to flow, but despite this, Thailand and my little village are starting to feel like “home.” All of the sounds and stimuli that once seemed so foreign and intrusive are becoming part of my everyday routine. I’ve come to expect them. Today I woke up to the sound of the rain gently beating against the roof and was overcome with gratefulness for the opportunity to be here, living in this rural Thai village on the other side of the world.

The journey continues…