Coconut Ice Cream
It was a typical Sunday. My partner and I were at a co-working space, working on an online Project Management course. After completing what I set out for the day, I decided to get some Mango Sticky Rice from the Tha Pae Gate Sunday Market.
Amidst the bustling night market, I spotted a vendor selling fairy lights for just 100B. My partner had been meaning to get some to soften the lighting in our room for our wind-down routine. I stopped to pick some up and noticed a vendor pushing down his cart with bags of waffle cones hanging by its side. No one does coconut ice cream better than Thai street vendors. Goodbye mango sticky rice.
I am extremely fortunate to have lived and explored Thailand with my partner these last two months because everything is only as good as it is shared. Needless to say, the biggest challenge of the day became transporting two coconut ice cream cones with minimal melting and mess to our desks about 500m away in under 2 minutes.
As soon as I received the cones, I became an Olympic relay race runner. Or so I thought. I was merely 100m in when questioned my decision and abilities. I was out of breath, the first stream of cream had trickled down, I think I had taken a wrong turn, and the crowd ahead was getting thicker… it didn’t seem like I would complete my mission. But I forged on, holding on to the hope of sharing this bit of joy with a loved one.
The outcome was sweeter than the best coconut ice cream in all of Chiang Mai. Happily nibbling away in between huffs, I had one hand on my delicious cone and the other on a precious human being. These 3 minutes of bliss made all the running and panicking worth it.
Aside from sharing great joys with people you love, there is also something special about putting in effort for them. Giving is one of the best ways to feel closer to someone and build stronger bonds. But to me, receiving is infinitesimally harder than giving. Having grown up in an underprivileged environment, I’ve grown to hate asking for help or feeling like I’m troubling others. I learned to solve problems and deal with troubles on my own. I can share them after they were resolved, right?
Wrong. In refusing to be vulnerable, I hold people at a distance and keep them from forging ties with me. I do not doubt that this behavior has hurt many around me, even those I hold near and dear.
Recounting every time I have opened up with my troubles, I was rewarded with friends and family who are now strong pillars of support. Today, there is no reason why I should remain stubborn and guarded. I guess it just isn’t easy to override a reflexive behavior that I closely associate with values of independence and resourcefulness, especially when it has made me feel safe in uncertain times.
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We put up the fairy lights as soon as we got back, and I let him reach the higher spot instead of climbing on top of something myself. As we rounded up the day, the room was illuminated softly by little colorful orbs. It felt warm and safe as I asked him my set of strange questions for the day. Maybe tonight I’ll ask him for help too.
