Wallful breakfast: on eating out

This morning for breakfast I had "Wallful with Banana and Mango." Maybe the best wallful of my life because it had sesame seeds resting in its little square holes and the banana tasted like a flower. I had it with fresh coffee, frothy on top as if it were a cappucino but this baby was just straight coffee. I felt approximately 8 feet tall after drinking it, 'twas so strong.

The restaurant, like many restaurants here, was the front of someone's house and the matre de, server, cook, barista, and bus-boy were all one person. You sit on their front porch, or adjacent to their living room, at a tiny table with a TV nearby (always on). You ask for the toilet and you weave through the miniscule kitchen and duck into the little bathroom. The floor is wet, because the whole bathroom is also the whole shower, and toothpaste and brushes recline on a rack on the wall. There is no toilet paper but you'd pocketed some of the flimsy pink napkins from the table. A garden hose is looped near the toilet for a wetting butt spray, should you choose. You deposit your pink paper in the wee waste basket,--not in toilet!--rinse your hands under the showerhead, and poke back out through the house.

I continually stop and rejoice and marvel: I am in Thailand!!!!