4AM Citrus Ponderings

(Written May 13, 2009 in a notebook at the Suvarnabhumi Airport while waiting for my check-in time at 4 in the morning ...which probably explains a lot)

For some reason I've got limes on the brain. Completely inappropriate at a time like this, about to leave Thailand for what could be the last time ever, I know, but it is what it is.

Joey told me on Thursday afternoon that the dry season lime crop in Thailand was a very poor one this year. The comment didn't register as anything profound at the time but it must have stuck, hidden under the corner of a birthday reminder or an email address in the back of my mind.

Friday night that same week, I was at dinner with Ying and asked for lemon-something-or-other but was promptly told that I'd have to choose again as that menu item wasn't available. I didn't make the connection to Joey's comment but instead quickly chose again and ordered something else from the menu.

Saturday night we hit the bars. Money was tight so I decided on that place on Soi 17 with the really cheap tequila shots before hitting the Nimman strip. We sat down, we ordered. The drinks came arranged on a platter with a mound of salt in the middle. Sitting in a circle around the salt were seven of the thinnest, saddest looking lime wedgest ever sliced. We grumbled at this aparent travesty but had our drinks and went on our way.

Sunday came as it often does, lazy and a little hung over from Saturday's tequila. 2PM found me shuffling in the door of Ran Lao bookstore in anticipation of a late afternoon spent curled in a corner with a cold drink and a book. I asked for an ice lemon tea, just the thing to chase the cobwebs from my brain and counter the heat and humidity of a Sunday afternoon during the hot season in Chiang Mai. The response came in Thai: No can do, you'l have to get something else. An ice coffee would do just as well, I supposed.

I was halfway to my corner before I finally made the connections and when I did I had to stop in wonder for a few minutes, my book lying unnoticed on the table in front of me.

How could something so seemingly mundane and personally inconsequential be having such far reaching effects on my daily life? A failed crop of lemons isn't the first connection one would seek between eating, partying and reading but there it was, plain as day. I wonder what other butterflies in my life are getting away with causing tornadoes undetected?

The sign above the bookshelves says "Ran Lao" in Thai. It's a witty name for a bookstore, because Ran Lao literally translates to "house of alcohol, or bar".