Ex-pat math

I never expected to need so much math as an expat, but I realized this week that living abroad definitely makes me use my math skills more. Here are a few examples: 

- Butter. All my recipes list butter measurements in cups, sticks, or tablespoons. But the butter comes in 227g chunks. So I convert whatever my measurement is to grams (thanks to the internet) and then make those grams into an estimated fraction out of 227, then eyeball that fraction of the butter block. As you can imagine, this is a highly accurate process...

- Baking size. It's a 9 x 13 pan recipe. My toaster oven only fits an 8 x 8 pan. So I find the area of each, and find the percent/fraction that is my 8 x 8 pan and then try to figure out, which is easier, cut the recipe, or increase it and make two 8 x 8's? I think the answer might be to make one batch but put it in two 8 x 8's and just have it be thin and not bake it so long...

-Temperature. I know a few Celcius benchmarks, but I otherwise think in Fahrenheit. Luckily my devices will convert it, but our textbook is in Fahrenheit which of course my Celcius students don't understand, so they are always asking me how much that is in Celsius...  Also, my toaster oven is only in Celsius and my recipes are all in Fahrenheit, which works out ok because I don't actually set the temp, I just turn it on and off. Really, it's a miracle I can bake anything at all between that and the butter! 

- Currency. Americans in Thailand can divide by 30 like a pro. After a while, you convert less and less in your host country, but you still do it to a degree. And then there's the travel, where you convert both to your home currency and your host currency... 

- Time zones. I make it a point when I set up Skype dates to always set them up in the other person' time zone so I am calculating that in my head as we email to find a time. Luckily either Detroit or Chicago are always an exact 12 from here, then I can go from there to figure out the other. But I still struggle with Buenos Aires and as of July I will need to convert London and California as well... Yikes. 

- Stocking up. I still buy a year's worth of several items every summer in the States, namely PG Tips tea and my hair products. So it's always a calculation of how many days, how long a box of tea or bottle of mousse would last, and then a generous rounding up to make sure I don't run out. I thought I had it down, but I think I miscalculated somewhere because I am definitely rationing both right now to get to June 6th! 

A nearly fatal trip to IKEA

Sometimes, when I have what we like to call an "adventure" I stop and think, well, at least it will make a nice blog post. So this post is brought to you by Don't Cry, It Will Make A Nice Blog, and also by Polar Vortex Payback. 

First let me just tell you, it was the middle of a hot sunny humid day. A 97F and humid kind of day. A 99 days out of 100 I prefer heat over cold but my body still isn't built for the tropics kind of day. Keep that in mind. 

The day started out just fine. No, it started out better than fine. It started out with a solid 10 hours of sleep, more than I have had in ages, and a day off work for a Thai Buddhist holiday. It started out with an emotional and energy reserve tank that was full. And there I made my first fatal mistake: I used that energy and went to Ikea. 

I was in need of a chair, a small chair. I had already preselected it online because I know that Ikea is not the place for decision making. It paralyzes even the best deciders among us. I selected the smallest chair Ikea makes because I have a small space in which to put it, and off I went, believing Ikea's flat box mantra and forgetting that Bangkok taxi drivers are not, shall we say, the best problem solvers. 

I confirmed the correct chair in the showroom and wrote down where to find it in the warehouse section before navigating the shortcuts through the millions of other things I would be tempted to buy on my way to the warehouse. I grabbed a trolley and made it to the correct aisle without any additional items, and that's about where the success ended.  

Despite weighing only 23 kilos, the box with the chair was wedged in so well on the shelf that I couldn't get it out. It was also not flat. I considered giving up and going home. I considered that it was stupid of me to attempt to buy furniture at Ikea by myself. It occurred to me that it would be much easier if there were a husband (or at least a brother!) around to go fetch it for me. And there I made my second fatal mistake: I kept going. I tracked down a worker to wrangle the box off the shelf and onto my trolley. Yay. 

I wheeled my now paid for box out to the curb at the taxi stand. There is supposed to be a taxi stand man there to call a taxi, but he was MIA. So for a few minutes, I just stood with my box in the heat and waited. Then the taxi stand man showed up and told me that my box was not going to fit in a taxi. I told him to try anyway. I figured that either it would cram into the back seat okay or we could stick it in the trunk and bungee cord the back down. You know, problem solve. Several taxi drivers refused to even try and as time passed and my frustration grew, the sweat began to pour down my body. Not like little beads on your lip, but like Niagra Falls. I began feeling rather stupid for attempting this whole thing, which only made me sweat further. Finally, a driver agreed to try, but the attempt is half hearted and he can't be bothered and pulled away. This is roughly when I start feeling a bit light headed and I realize fatal mistake number three: I hadn't had any water yet that morning. 

So there I stand, soaked through, on the curb with my big ole box that I already paid for, sweat running down, feeling like an idiot and wondering if I am going to have to succumb to the $22 delivery fee for my $100 chair so that I don't succumb to the heat and really really wanting to sit down and cry. But not there on the curb. Inside. In the air con. That's always roughly when I realized that that's part of why I keep this blog- so when I do stupid stuff like this, I can at least make a nice blog post out of it. 

A minute or two later someone I know walked by. He had dropped his family off at the mall and gone to park the car, a small SUV, before joining them inside. His family lives about two blocks from me, one block the other side of the school, and his daughter had been in my class last year. He also happens to be my pastor. He graciously offered to bring the car up and load my box into the back. When his family returned home a few hours later, they stopped by and dropped it off at my apartment. I was saved. 

In the end, I bought the one Ikea chair that doesn't really require assembly, which is why the box wasn't flat and wouldn't fit in the taxis. I made it home to shower and change and rest in the air con, super grateful for this family and the help they gave me. They lived in Bangkok for many years without a car, so they assured me they get it. Somedays, the overseas life is glamorous and beautiful, and other days it's sweaty and humbling and hard. Most days, I'd say, it's somewhere in between.