no, that's not a spring in my step

Mariela says Thailand is out to get me.

First, leaving the school campus last week via a tree-lined sidewalk, a bird deposited something that looked very much like sandy ketchup on my arm. I mean, it was red. Red, and disgusting.

Then, a few days ago, I discovered spots of fuzzy, pale green mold on some of the clothes hanging in my wardrobe. I looked in another of my cabinets, and a wooden fan I bought was covered in the stuff! I really ought to tell the management about that one... Maybe I'll get new furniture out of the deal!

The latest incident in this series happened today. It was rainy, the sidewalks were damp, and Mariela and I were making our way back to the apartment while browsing through the street vendors for cheap clothes. We had to cross an intersection at an area that's been under construction for a while now.

While looking down at the ground in an attempt to avoid puddles, I failed to notice a bright orange construction cone marking off a patch of freshly-poured concrete. I saw that some concrete was darker than the rest, but I thought it was just damp with rain. I stepped forward, confidently expecting (as I often do) that the ground beneath me would be solid.

It was not. With the momentum I had going in these trusting steps, I found myself with two feet stuck in concrete mud.

All Mariela heard was, "Agh. Agghh!! Aghhhhhh!" because when something like this happens to me, I tend to lose the ability to form coherent sentences. She turned around and burst out laughing.

I unstuck myself and waddled out of the way of the other pedestrians so I could inspect the damage. A construction worker stared. I gave him a pitiful look and yelled, "Sorry!"

Walking around the city, you often see footprints in patches of concrete. I'm not the first, and I surely won't be the last, but I've officially made my mark on Bangkok.