Money Pouch

10000092Oh, shown money pouch—the cause and cure of all my mother’s tears and worry, and for all I know, of mine (if gone missing during my upcoming travels in SE Asia). Here’s hoping, though, that in the wreathe of 5 months of diligent, totally unanticipated, spent-energy on planning, studying, peeing my pants, etc., that that will not be the case.

For all who know Francesca, please enjoy the following behind-the-camera footage a la Mannino family dialogue:

“Sleep with it.”

“I will.”

And when you take a shower, bring it into the bathroom; it’s the first thing you put on…”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do…”

“I don’t.”

“I know.”

“I will.”

“OK.”

I hear the familiar sniffle, the break in conversation which usually means the tip of her nose is on its way to a frightening, uncomfortable (for me) shade of red…

“Mom—I don’t want to lose all my money/identity just as much as you don’t want me to lose all my money/identity.”

This seems to calm her for a moment.

“I have to go,” she says…

“Everything will be fine.”

“OK. You just…can’t put it down.”

And this is how our phone conversations went—mostly—towards the end. But it seemed to have built her up considerably for the worse news to come: that Chad (the friend I planned the trip with/around) couldn’t confirm his accompaniment. Though, in the end, she seemed unable to disengage in my excitement of my solo traveling experience to come.

Pet mach ma!, I say, which according to Ian, my unofficial Basic Thai Phrases instructor slash teammate (yeah, Zog!), means “Kick it up a notch!” I can’t say for sure that it’s correct, but I like it too much to confirm its accuracy. Cheers.

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