Your Writing Prompt for the week (and what I wrote)

 "Write about something that is quintessentially summer to you."  

Above is this week's writing prompt, and below is what I wrote.  Please note that I love each of these countries.  But to me, countries have many sides. Like characters in a story. 

If circumstances shoved me hard enough, like when I was broke in India & had to find a paying job, I'd move to Thailand in April. April in Thailand is nothing but summer -- and it steadily gets worse. I first encountered the heartlessness of a country, even easy-going Thailand, in April. I remember bursting into tears it was so hot, passing out cold a few times outdoors then somehow landing in an ER, which in Thailand meant more discomfort: glaring lights, polyester sheets that both made me sweat and vomit.

Yet here I am again, sweating. I must admit that Thailand's monsoons  were always the most pleasant of all the others I'd endured. Tourists, though, squawked about  Thais' peculiar habits (out of twisted loyalty, I will not enumerate them) but a Thai monsoon (unless in Bangkok)  was always clean. Unlike China, you didn't get sick from the air or water or contaminants seeping up through the skimpy grass, or northern India, where even I was unable to steer clear of monsoon sickness, because the very dirt in the Himalaya coughed up germs that sent me reeling to the amchee.

Ah, this time I launched myself at northern Thailand the second my lease allowed it, on the cheapest plane I could manage. Saving money in the US would have been impossible without food giveaways, my refusal to buy anything, even a coke, then clenching my jaw shut. I knew that Thailand would be unbearable, but it would open doors that had slammed shut. Between the redneck administration and the redneck cities I swooned for the discomfort of a Thai summer. And I saved a few thousand dollars.

Your writing prompt for this week:  "Write about something that is quintessentially summer to you."

My 300 words on the subject:

If circumstances shoved me hard enough, like when I was broke in India & had to find a paying job, I'd move to Thailand in April. April in Thailand is nothing but summer -- and it gets worse. I first encountered the heartlessness of a country, even easy-going Thailand, in April. I remember bursting into tears it was so hot, passing out cold a few times outdoors then somehow landing in an ER, which in Thailand meant more discomfort: glaring lights, polyester sheets that both made me sweat and vomit.

Yet here I am again, sweating away in Thailand's never-ending summer. One thing I had to admit: Thailand's monsoon was the most pleasant of a dozen I'd endured because though tourists squawked about the native population's peculiar habits (out of twisted loyalty, I will not enumerate them) a Thai monsoon not in Bangkok was clean. Unlike China, you didn't get sick from the air or water or contaminants seeping up through the skimpy grass, or northern India, where even I was unable to steer clear of monsoon sickness, because the very ground coughed up germs that sent me reeling to the amchee.

Ah, this time I launched myself to northern Thailand the second my lease allowed it, on the cheapest plane I could manage. Saving money in the US is impossible without local weekly food giveaways, my refusal to buy anything, even a coke, then clenching my jaw shut. Thailand would be unbearable, but it would open doors that had slammed shut. Between the redneck administration and the redneck cities I swooned for the discomfort of a Thai summer. And I saved a few thousand dollars.