(written 7/17/12)
I spent my two weeks in Bangkok, mostly torn between wanting
to see everything the alluring capital had to offer a visitor fresh out of
Azerbaijan, while at the same time accepting the physical limitations. After
surgery, I kept on with my trips to the hospital for physical therapy,
exercises in the hotel room, and the icing routine, but made time for one
afternoon excursion each day. I befriended, Caitlin, a PCV from Kyrgystan, also
on medical evacuation. We explored together and saw temples, monuments, museums
and numerous places for shopping. We had the chance to eat Mexican, Egyptian,
Indian, and LOTS of Thai food. I ventured out from my pad thai ways and tried a
variety of soups, curry dishes, noodle dishes and sweet pork! I discovered
mangoes and sticky rice, a sweet Thai dessert. After turning my nose up at fish
oil because of its smell, my new Thai friend told me that all of the Thai food
I was eating (and enjoying to my heart’s content) contained some degree of fish
oil. Tastes better than it smells, ok? I bought milk and a granola based cereal
from a grocery store so I could eat breakfast everyday in my hotel room.
Heavenly! I made a point to indulge in foods I don’t get to eat in Azerbaijan.
The Egyptian place we went to had grade leaf dolma on the menu, a very popular
meal here in Azerbaijan. It actually sounded good, but I confessed to Caitlin
that if my friends in Azerbaijan found out I ate yarpaq dolmasi in Bangkok, I
would NEVR hear the end of it. I decided on a tomato, shrimp and rice dish
instead, and I was not disappointed. We had interesting conversations on two
different occasions with expats who, to my surprise, were both familiar with
Azerbaijan. One was a Palestinian Dutchman in Bangkok for business. The other
was an Aussie on leave from his work in Mongolia. It was one of my first
opportunities to talk about my experience to interested travelers, neither well
versed nor ignorant of Azerbaijani affairs. Neither was American, and their
slightly different perspectives on things were reflected in their questions. I
liked it. Overall, everything from the friendly Thai people, interesting
travelers, fellow PCVs in for medical, culinary diversity, cool sights, and a
brief excursion from my new reality in Azerbaijan made for a pretty awesome
trip to Bangkok. But that’s still not why I can’t stop smiling.
I was returning to Azerbaijan slightly uneasy about what
awaited me; not only in terms of environment but also in terms of personal
expectations. This surgery’s recovery is different. I can deal with the odd
looks from villagers who, unfamiliar with crutches, don’t know whether to be
sad, concerned for or totally removed from the American and her strange new
addition. I can make do without a gym and an athletic trainer. But it’s
different this time because I don’t have soccer to return to. I knew it would
be different one week after surgery when I sat down with the doctor to talk
about my recovery’s timeline. He said I could return to “normal activity” after
another four weeks. That’s not so bad. Granted, I’ll be in Azerbaijan. But on
the bright side, that’s 5 months fewer than the other recoveries took.
“You need to take into account your joint health now. You
need to exercise and keep yourself active. But, you need to make sure you do
this through low-impact exercise. With two bone spurs, a micro fracture and 10%
of your meniscus left in this knee, for the sake of your long term health, you
need to reconsider the types of activities you’ve been doing.”
“So what are low impact activities?”
“Things like biking, using the elliptical, yoga, walking and
swimming are all great. Sports like soccer, basketball, tennis, frisbee and
volleyball are all high impact. Your knees bear the brunt of the activity because of jumping and changing directions.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
My return to Azerbaijan included a 10 hour flight from
Bangkok to Istanbul, a 4 hour layover, and another 3 hours from Istanbul to
Baku. I got special treatment in between the flights from the airline staff.
They wheeled me around in a wheelchair so I didn’t have to crutch. This meant
elevators, ramps and no lines! Further, Peace Corps even sent a driver to pick
me up at the airport. I was grateful for this because anyone who’s ever been to
the Baku airport will tell you getting there and back is oftentimes tricky and
almost always expensive. Add crutches and a jet lag daze.
I called my overly fretful counterpart in the car on the way
back to my village. After an interrogation concerning where I am and when I’d
be returning to the village, I calmly told her I was on my way back home and
that I would come to see her that night. She was so worked up about my
prolonged absence, I had to repeat what I was saying a few times for her to
understand. She informed me that after I had been gone for 10 days, she called me
everyday to see if I was okay even though, upon my request, my program director
called her after my surgery telling her I was fine, everything went well, but
that I'd be back a little later than I had originally planned. With
apprehension, and still not totally trusting in what I was telling her, we said
our goodbyes. At the very end she abruptly interjected:
“Annie?”
“Yes?”
And in all the earnesty that her British-Azerbaijani accent
could muster added, “I missed you very much.”
