Frantic Litte Reality Check

Last night, as we sat together in a small pho dive down the street, enjoying the most fresh and flavorful noodle soup I've ever had, Bryce and I looked at each other and said, "What are we doing here!?!" The woman of the house bustled around us, holding the baby, showing Titus how to use chopsticks, and trying to find something for Maggie to eat (she's still exhausted at night from jet lag) all while filling orders for her more inconspicuous customers. The small room was all shades of brown, maybe with varying levels of griminess, and a dusty faded 2002 calendar hung over the tiny linoleum table. There was an overwhelming feeling for me that someone else should be doing this. Someone who doesn't secretly wish for a People magazine and a long bath (not so secretly now). Someone who wouldn't notice that they haven't seen another westerner for a week. Someone adventurous. I know there are many people like this. I’ve met them before and have listened in innocent devotion to their world traveling stories. In other words, they really intimidate me. That’s how I know I’m not one of them. So, I guess I'm having a little reality check here. That happens to everyone, right?... right?...RIGHT?

I am timidly enjoying being here. I got a small thrill today when the kids ran downstairs into the courtyard and started climbing trees and looking for toads as if they owned the place (the people sitting at the nearby cafe looked like they had more of a thrill of terror when Titus started the tree swaying while wedged near the top). The sweet ladies who work at the guest house peeked in our room this morning, and even though I knew they had come in to empty the trash, I felt like they were friends coming to visit. I love friends coming to visit.