Nervous time, or maybe not...
Closing in on leaving Luang Prabang, soon off to the travel agent to see if my passport and visa arrived on time, then to catch the all-nighter bus ride south to catch the plane into Hanoi. There was one email waiting for me, and it was from my Vietnamese friend Lan Anh who tells me she will pick me up from the airport, which is an hour from her mom's house. OMG what luck that is! I was preparing for being totally lost, confused and wondering how I'd fare in that situation. Started feeling a little nervous, which is a natural part of the journey for me, nothing to fear exactly, just watching my mind go that way. To get picked up at the Hanoi Airport like a VIP is almost too good to believe. More gratitude, my cup has runneth over. (assuming she makes it, of course, but hey what could happen?)
From the very ridiculous to the very sublime
I might have to try and come up with a new word to describe the extremes of taste and artistry which bookended this one day. I'll keep that thought in the back of my mind as I relate the story. Because to call the day's activities 'wide ranging' wouldn't even come close to conveying an almost absurd 6 hour period.
First the ridiculous: I caught a ride with a group of tourists who were arranging for a tuk tuk taxi to take them to the famous waterfall south of town. There is a fixed rate of $25 for the roundtrip fare, and that includes the driver waiting around for a few hours while his charges swim, snap photos and hike around the gorgeous park. I certainly wasn't about to pay the whole thing myself, so when I saw the group talking to a driver, I asserted myself into the mix and joined the festivities.
On the way out there, I started getting some lyrical ideas going for a 'bar song' that I wanted to create called 'Boom Boom', which is pigeon English for the 'sex act'. Some rhymes were coming to mind and I didn't have any paper, so I ripped the 'dedication page' in the Elmore Leonard novel I'm reading, and started writing a few ideas down. The driver was interested so I explained that I was writing a song called 'Boom Boom' which amused him no end. It's definitely a juvenile, ridiculous idea, but since anything goes on this trip, what the hell, see if i can come up with something that makes me laugh... which I did. I imagine a group of drunken revelers joining in on the Boom Boom line, while I offer the counterpoint and everyone laughs and jams along. Definitely dumb, but something intrigues me about it, so I continued until I wrote 3 verses and a bridge. I started playing it a bit out front of the guest house and the locals thought it was funny. I'm still not sure if it's something I'll use, but we shall see.
At 6pm, my artist friend June arrived to walk me over to this reception with the Prince, which was held at a location not too far from my Guest House. I put on some clean clothes, and was hoping that I wouldn't be too underdressed for whatever was to occur. We walked a few blocks and turned into what used to be the former hospital, but now is one of the exclusive 'Amanresorts', which are super high-end destinations for the wealthy. The suites are $1000/night, and it was a world apart.
The grounds were incredible, a large reflecting pool, a broad, lantern lit expanse with everything immaculately presented, lovely landscaping, and it was hard to believe that the bustling town was right outside the gates. You couldn't hear a thing. And here's the prince himself, dressed in a black nehru style outfit, smiling, gracious, attending to his guests (there were about thirty of them seated near the reflecting pool awaiting a performance of music and dance. He was mayb 50 years old, and his vibe was that of high culture and kindness.
At one point after the performance, he walked the two of us around the grounds showing us one of the suites, and then talking about his mission to reinvigorate the local arts and introduce a new generation of artists to the traditional art forms of the culture. It's his job, as he is the artistic coordinator for a number of the Amanresorts, including in Cambodia, Bhutan, Beijing and I can't remember tha other places that he mentioned. But he travels a lot and is dedicated to high art.
And wow, what a presentation his young charges gave us. There was a 6 piece ensemble of musicians, guys around 20 years old who played a luscious 90 minute set of traditional Laotian music on the following instruments: gamelan gongs, marimba, flute, chinese violins, hammer dulcimer (he called it 'sitar', and who's gonna argue with the prince? and hand drums. The sound was incredible, precise, haunting, jangly, alive and so evocative of this region at the crossroads. He made that point several times, how the music borrowed from India, China and the rest of the world who passed through this region.
The musicians were seated on cushions as they played different instruments, switching often. They were a tight ensemble, and it seemed effortless. They were joined by dancers for many of the pieces. The dances were very beautiful, slow paced with gorgeous hand movements, body undulations, much changing of levels and plies as they moved. It was as though we were seeing 'The King and I', with the lanterns, the dancing and the playing, as we sipped wine and enjoyed the spectacle. I was in artistic heaven.
When the music ended, we were invited to come talk to the musicians and try the instruments, so I spent a great twenty minutes going from musician to musician, asking questions, allowing them to demonstrate their techniques, taking it all in. It was a great music lesson for me as I got to experience at close range how these things work. They kept showing me the do re mi fa sol of their instruments, which was funny, because it's almost do re mi etc, but the intonation is slightly different which is part of the reason it sounds so deliciously foreigh. The musicians were uniformly kind and willing to share, and that twenty minutes was a highlight of the trip. What a world of sound!
After our little walkabout with the prince, June and I finished our wine (2 glasses, $28, Yikes!) and then walked to this great barbecue alley where there are many food vendors grilling fish, chicken, deep frying spring rolls, noodle soups etc and we grabbed some dinner back in reality. I felt incrdible gratitude for having gotten the chance to experience the high art of this region, followed by some grilled fish down the alley. Luang Prabang! Wow!
First the ridiculous: I caught a ride with a group of tourists who were arranging for a tuk tuk taxi to take them to the famous waterfall south of town. There is a fixed rate of $25 for the roundtrip fare, and that includes the driver waiting around for a few hours while his charges swim, snap photos and hike around the gorgeous park. I certainly wasn't about to pay the whole thing myself, so when I saw the group talking to a driver, I asserted myself into the mix and joined the festivities.
On the way out there, I started getting some lyrical ideas going for a 'bar song' that I wanted to create called 'Boom Boom', which is pigeon English for the 'sex act'. Some rhymes were coming to mind and I didn't have any paper, so I ripped the 'dedication page' in the Elmore Leonard novel I'm reading, and started writing a few ideas down. The driver was interested so I explained that I was writing a song called 'Boom Boom' which amused him no end. It's definitely a juvenile, ridiculous idea, but since anything goes on this trip, what the hell, see if i can come up with something that makes me laugh... which I did. I imagine a group of drunken revelers joining in on the Boom Boom line, while I offer the counterpoint and everyone laughs and jams along. Definitely dumb, but something intrigues me about it, so I continued until I wrote 3 verses and a bridge. I started playing it a bit out front of the guest house and the locals thought it was funny. I'm still not sure if it's something I'll use, but we shall see.
At 6pm, my artist friend June arrived to walk me over to this reception with the Prince, which was held at a location not too far from my Guest House. I put on some clean clothes, and was hoping that I wouldn't be too underdressed for whatever was to occur. We walked a few blocks and turned into what used to be the former hospital, but now is one of the exclusive 'Amanresorts', which are super high-end destinations for the wealthy. The suites are $1000/night, and it was a world apart.
The grounds were incredible, a large reflecting pool, a broad, lantern lit expanse with everything immaculately presented, lovely landscaping, and it was hard to believe that the bustling town was right outside the gates. You couldn't hear a thing. And here's the prince himself, dressed in a black nehru style outfit, smiling, gracious, attending to his guests (there were about thirty of them seated near the reflecting pool awaiting a performance of music and dance. He was mayb 50 years old, and his vibe was that of high culture and kindness.
At one point after the performance, he walked the two of us around the grounds showing us one of the suites, and then talking about his mission to reinvigorate the local arts and introduce a new generation of artists to the traditional art forms of the culture. It's his job, as he is the artistic coordinator for a number of the Amanresorts, including in Cambodia, Bhutan, Beijing and I can't remember tha other places that he mentioned. But he travels a lot and is dedicated to high art.
And wow, what a presentation his young charges gave us. There was a 6 piece ensemble of musicians, guys around 20 years old who played a luscious 90 minute set of traditional Laotian music on the following instruments: gamelan gongs, marimba, flute, chinese violins, hammer dulcimer (he called it 'sitar', and who's gonna argue with the prince? and hand drums. The sound was incredible, precise, haunting, jangly, alive and so evocative of this region at the crossroads. He made that point several times, how the music borrowed from India, China and the rest of the world who passed through this region.
The musicians were seated on cushions as they played different instruments, switching often. They were a tight ensemble, and it seemed effortless. They were joined by dancers for many of the pieces. The dances were very beautiful, slow paced with gorgeous hand movements, body undulations, much changing of levels and plies as they moved. It was as though we were seeing 'The King and I', with the lanterns, the dancing and the playing, as we sipped wine and enjoyed the spectacle. I was in artistic heaven.
When the music ended, we were invited to come talk to the musicians and try the instruments, so I spent a great twenty minutes going from musician to musician, asking questions, allowing them to demonstrate their techniques, taking it all in. It was a great music lesson for me as I got to experience at close range how these things work. They kept showing me the do re mi fa sol of their instruments, which was funny, because it's almost do re mi etc, but the intonation is slightly different which is part of the reason it sounds so deliciously foreigh. The musicians were uniformly kind and willing to share, and that twenty minutes was a highlight of the trip. What a world of sound!
After our little walkabout with the prince, June and I finished our wine (2 glasses, $28, Yikes!) and then walked to this great barbecue alley where there are many food vendors grilling fish, chicken, deep frying spring rolls, noodle soups etc and we grabbed some dinner back in reality. I felt incrdible gratitude for having gotten the chance to experience the high art of this region, followed by some grilled fish down the alley. Luang Prabang! Wow!
And of course, its opposite....
Ain't that the way? You express sadness rather than keep it inside, and it's almost inevitable that things turn in a more positive direction. At least it seems to work that way for me on a fairly consistent basis. My day started swinging upward when I took a climb to the famous Wat, which dominates the landscape of Luang Prabang. It's about 350 steps up to a commanding view of the city and the rivers which meet up here. It was mid to late afternoon, and I sat in the sun and started getting my geographical (and other) bearings. It was another beautiful sunny day, perfect temperature and a lovely vista.
I noticed an Asian woman doing some sketching up there, and she struck me like a real artist, just something about her ease in the act of drawing. A few minutes later, I started wondering about where our boat had come into town yesterday. If the sun is setting in the west, then how come it looks like we came in from the east? Maybe the river does a big bend here or something? I was confused.
I asked a couple of English speaking guys if they could straighten me out about it, and she overheard and said that the sun would eventually set over there, not where I mistakenly thought. I was about 90 degrees off in my orientation. She mentioned that she had been in town some seven years earlier and knew that the sun would set over that a way. We got into a conversation, quite an interesting one, as she is yeah, a real artist from Seattle who is doing a residency here, thanks to a grant from the King County (WA) Arts Association (or whatever it's called). And further, she has a solid contact with the 'Prince', a son of the exiled king who was deposed by the communists in 1975 after the Vietnam debacle.
Her name is June Sekiguchi, a Japanese American artist out of the Seattle area, and she met the prince when they both had some work displayed in a show in the US. They began corresponding, and it eventually led to her trip here. Apparently the prince is a strong advocate for keeping the native Laotian arts alive and thriving, so he is educating and supporting young local artists in various ways. June is here to observe, immerse, absorb and learn, and then take her experiences and use them to create new work that will be shown in Seattle. It sounds really interesting, all the more so because I saw a sample of some of her installations and it is super. She's a big league artist, and a really nice person.
We ended up having some soup together at a great local place, very old fashioned, no menu, just a woman making one dish, a noodle soup with chicken and green vegetables. Cheap and delicious, and exactly what I was needing, rather than some overpriced, tourist menu which is prevalent here. I asked if it would be cool for me to tail along tomorrow to see what was happening in the arts scene, and yeah, we made a plan for 6pm to go to some highbrow place which is part of the prince's purview... or something like that, it's a little vague at the moment, but I'll know more when I see it. It's nice to have made an interesting connection.
Then back at the guest house, I was talking with the young (20 something) Lao dude who works there, and he was really interested in my guitar playing. I did a little impromptu thing out front for some of the guests. When it was just us, I pulled out the new one I had written on the boat and he really liked it, and was reading the lyrics and looking at the music. I had written it out in music notation, because I didn't want to forget any of it, so I showed him briefly how that system worked, singing along and pointing at the music. He said, he didn't understand that stuff, only knew some chords on the guitar.
I asked him if he knew what 'tab' was, and he said no, so I gave him a little quickie lesson in how the system works. It's really simple and he picked it up in no time. And was really excited and grateful about it. He had seen it online, but didn't understand it, so suddenly he had this whole new world of stuff that he could access, which I'm sure he will. The interesting thing is that I've been offering all of my musical contacts any free information that I could help them with, but something about the western guys prevents them from taking me up on it. I love to teach and love to share the knowledge, but they can't or won't accept the offer. This guy just lapped it up in about 5 minutes, he got it right away, and now he's off. I felt super good about the interaction. It's part of what I'm here for. Sharing the good stuff. Makes me happy to connect like that.
And I even got a surprise email from M, hoping that I'll come back to Chiang Mai, missing me etc. I'll keep in touch with her, and we'll see what happens. I have no predictions at this point, well actually I do, but I'll hang onto it for now...
This tuk tuk driver just offered a great sentence, the gist of it was 'do you want to get laid?' His verbatim quote was this. 'Tuk tuk lady boom boom' That is some quality pidgin English, my friends...
I'll close with my first Thai joke, told to me by a buddy in Chiang Mai.
A Thai guy goes on vacation in New York, and goes to the bank to change some money. He gives the banker 3000 Baht and receives $100. The next week he goes and gives the 3000 Baht but only gets back $92. 'What is this, last week I get $100, and this week only $92' The banker shrugs his shoulders and says 'Fluctuations'
The Thai guy replies, 'Fluck you Americans!'
I noticed an Asian woman doing some sketching up there, and she struck me like a real artist, just something about her ease in the act of drawing. A few minutes later, I started wondering about where our boat had come into town yesterday. If the sun is setting in the west, then how come it looks like we came in from the east? Maybe the river does a big bend here or something? I was confused.
I asked a couple of English speaking guys if they could straighten me out about it, and she overheard and said that the sun would eventually set over there, not where I mistakenly thought. I was about 90 degrees off in my orientation. She mentioned that she had been in town some seven years earlier and knew that the sun would set over that a way. We got into a conversation, quite an interesting one, as she is yeah, a real artist from Seattle who is doing a residency here, thanks to a grant from the King County (WA) Arts Association (or whatever it's called). And further, she has a solid contact with the 'Prince', a son of the exiled king who was deposed by the communists in 1975 after the Vietnam debacle.
Her name is June Sekiguchi, a Japanese American artist out of the Seattle area, and she met the prince when they both had some work displayed in a show in the US. They began corresponding, and it eventually led to her trip here. Apparently the prince is a strong advocate for keeping the native Laotian arts alive and thriving, so he is educating and supporting young local artists in various ways. June is here to observe, immerse, absorb and learn, and then take her experiences and use them to create new work that will be shown in Seattle. It sounds really interesting, all the more so because I saw a sample of some of her installations and it is super. She's a big league artist, and a really nice person.
We ended up having some soup together at a great local place, very old fashioned, no menu, just a woman making one dish, a noodle soup with chicken and green vegetables. Cheap and delicious, and exactly what I was needing, rather than some overpriced, tourist menu which is prevalent here. I asked if it would be cool for me to tail along tomorrow to see what was happening in the arts scene, and yeah, we made a plan for 6pm to go to some highbrow place which is part of the prince's purview... or something like that, it's a little vague at the moment, but I'll know more when I see it. It's nice to have made an interesting connection.
Then back at the guest house, I was talking with the young (20 something) Lao dude who works there, and he was really interested in my guitar playing. I did a little impromptu thing out front for some of the guests. When it was just us, I pulled out the new one I had written on the boat and he really liked it, and was reading the lyrics and looking at the music. I had written it out in music notation, because I didn't want to forget any of it, so I showed him briefly how that system worked, singing along and pointing at the music. He said, he didn't understand that stuff, only knew some chords on the guitar.
I asked him if he knew what 'tab' was, and he said no, so I gave him a little quickie lesson in how the system works. It's really simple and he picked it up in no time. And was really excited and grateful about it. He had seen it online, but didn't understand it, so suddenly he had this whole new world of stuff that he could access, which I'm sure he will. The interesting thing is that I've been offering all of my musical contacts any free information that I could help them with, but something about the western guys prevents them from taking me up on it. I love to teach and love to share the knowledge, but they can't or won't accept the offer. This guy just lapped it up in about 5 minutes, he got it right away, and now he's off. I felt super good about the interaction. It's part of what I'm here for. Sharing the good stuff. Makes me happy to connect like that.
And I even got a surprise email from M, hoping that I'll come back to Chiang Mai, missing me etc. I'll keep in touch with her, and we'll see what happens. I have no predictions at this point, well actually I do, but I'll hang onto it for now...
This tuk tuk driver just offered a great sentence, the gist of it was 'do you want to get laid?' His verbatim quote was this. 'Tuk tuk lady boom boom' That is some quality pidgin English, my friends...
I'll close with my first Thai joke, told to me by a buddy in Chiang Mai.
A Thai guy goes on vacation in New York, and goes to the bank to change some money. He gives the banker 3000 Baht and receives $100. The next week he goes and gives the 3000 Baht but only gets back $92. 'What is this, last week I get $100, and this week only $92' The banker shrugs his shoulders and says 'Fluctuations'
The Thai guy replies, 'Fluck you Americans!'
On the down low....
What does that mean, anyway? On the down low.... Because I seem to be riding that way since I left the security and the warm embrace. It was a lousy parting out of Chiang Mai, actually, and I found myself wanting to not write about it, wanting to censor again, but what the hell, what's the good in that? Especially sitting here with a headache and a few days worth of negativity rolling around.
The lovely M chose our final night together to have a little extra to drink, 'I don't know why I can't get drunk', she said, but she was pretty buzzed and that bummed me out. My story was that I was gonna have to wake up early the next day, but I was, of course willing to stay up late to have a nice 'farewell' at her place after work.
Maybe she was sad about me leaving, but for whatever reason, she got into a space of wanting to drink, and she asked me to go for a drink after her shift ended at about 2:30am. Uh, no, I don't want to drink. I could tell she was tipsy, something about her changed attitude and the way she was floating, and less than open when I tried to communicate. We got back to her place and just as she was locking the gate behind us, one of her neighbors pulled up on a motorcycle with her boyfriend, and called for her not to lock it. She did so in kind of a phony voice, and I could feel M react to it. Then as we went into the flat, she said that this woman is one who gossips about her and 'fuck her' (said with some venom). I hadn't heard that tone from M, and that clued me into the effect of the alcohol.
We had some food, but the vibe was wrong, She went to turn on the television, and I asked that she didn't, which she agreed to, but her whole energy was escapism and lack of contact. I tried to initiate some conversation, and since it was met with less than openness, I got my button pushed. But I tried to be patient as the minutes clicked by and I'm counting down in my head how little sleep I was gonna get that night. I asked why she wanted to get more drunk, and she said, I don't know. I had the thought that whatever bad shit happened to her growing up was the 'I don't know' she referred to, and that yeah, she tried to bury it, but you can't really get away from it until it's dealt with. I managed to express that idea to her, and she said, 'no one else ever said that' 'no one else ever understood me' or words to that effect. I asked if she wanted to tell me some of what she hadn't shared. 'No, I don't want to cry'
But she started to talk, and before long, her voice broke and the tears came, as she was leaning against me telling her story. Part of it had to do with listening to her parents fight day after day after day with no respite. But the thing that really crushed her was the fact that since she was a girl in a Chinese family, she didn't have nearly the same chances as her brothers. This is a girl who LOVES TO LEARN, and her parents told her that the only way she could continue her studies was if she passed the governmant test which they take at 17. If she made it through that hurdle, she could get a scholarship and continue. Otherwise, you have to work for the family. She didn't make the cut, and they stopped her from studying for a year.
She had to get up at 2:30 in the morning to work with the family, preparing and then selling food at some stall. Then she had to go to her money job, and then she could go to take some courses which she had to pay for. Unlike her brothers who were close in age to her, they got to sleep in, not have to work for the family, and just go to school all expenses paid by the family. This brutish unfairness, especially to someone with the thirst for knowledge, is the source of a rage and resentment that has become central to her 'no one will see me cry' core. It's what drives her to incredible determination and achievement, and likely to alcohol as well. My heart goes out to her in a big way. It's just flat out not fair, and I don't know how she gets over it. But I know that she's got to find a way through. I'd like to help her.
But after that story, she still was high, she wasn't ready to relate to me (read 'make love') and I ran out of patience as I was falling asleep and feeling ripped off. I got up, put my shoes on and we had a fairly silent parting, of course I was hoping she'd beg me to stay, but she was into that place of 'bad girl' that ruled the moment. That's how I saw it, anyhow, so our delicious two week romance ended in a brittle parting in the middle of the night. I wrote her an email without rancor, being grateful for what we shared, and maybe I'll hear back. She only seems to check her email on her day off, so, oh well, it was a wonderful chapter, and who knows, maybe she did us a favor by getting buzzed on our last night. That's how I look at it, anyhow. And I miss her... could cry myself, actually...
The lovely M chose our final night together to have a little extra to drink, 'I don't know why I can't get drunk', she said, but she was pretty buzzed and that bummed me out. My story was that I was gonna have to wake up early the next day, but I was, of course willing to stay up late to have a nice 'farewell' at her place after work.
Maybe she was sad about me leaving, but for whatever reason, she got into a space of wanting to drink, and she asked me to go for a drink after her shift ended at about 2:30am. Uh, no, I don't want to drink. I could tell she was tipsy, something about her changed attitude and the way she was floating, and less than open when I tried to communicate. We got back to her place and just as she was locking the gate behind us, one of her neighbors pulled up on a motorcycle with her boyfriend, and called for her not to lock it. She did so in kind of a phony voice, and I could feel M react to it. Then as we went into the flat, she said that this woman is one who gossips about her and 'fuck her' (said with some venom). I hadn't heard that tone from M, and that clued me into the effect of the alcohol.
We had some food, but the vibe was wrong, She went to turn on the television, and I asked that she didn't, which she agreed to, but her whole energy was escapism and lack of contact. I tried to initiate some conversation, and since it was met with less than openness, I got my button pushed. But I tried to be patient as the minutes clicked by and I'm counting down in my head how little sleep I was gonna get that night. I asked why she wanted to get more drunk, and she said, I don't know. I had the thought that whatever bad shit happened to her growing up was the 'I don't know' she referred to, and that yeah, she tried to bury it, but you can't really get away from it until it's dealt with. I managed to express that idea to her, and she said, 'no one else ever said that' 'no one else ever understood me' or words to that effect. I asked if she wanted to tell me some of what she hadn't shared. 'No, I don't want to cry'
But she started to talk, and before long, her voice broke and the tears came, as she was leaning against me telling her story. Part of it had to do with listening to her parents fight day after day after day with no respite. But the thing that really crushed her was the fact that since she was a girl in a Chinese family, she didn't have nearly the same chances as her brothers. This is a girl who LOVES TO LEARN, and her parents told her that the only way she could continue her studies was if she passed the governmant test which they take at 17. If she made it through that hurdle, she could get a scholarship and continue. Otherwise, you have to work for the family. She didn't make the cut, and they stopped her from studying for a year.
She had to get up at 2:30 in the morning to work with the family, preparing and then selling food at some stall. Then she had to go to her money job, and then she could go to take some courses which she had to pay for. Unlike her brothers who were close in age to her, they got to sleep in, not have to work for the family, and just go to school all expenses paid by the family. This brutish unfairness, especially to someone with the thirst for knowledge, is the source of a rage and resentment that has become central to her 'no one will see me cry' core. It's what drives her to incredible determination and achievement, and likely to alcohol as well. My heart goes out to her in a big way. It's just flat out not fair, and I don't know how she gets over it. But I know that she's got to find a way through. I'd like to help her.
But after that story, she still was high, she wasn't ready to relate to me (read 'make love') and I ran out of patience as I was falling asleep and feeling ripped off. I got up, put my shoes on and we had a fairly silent parting, of course I was hoping she'd beg me to stay, but she was into that place of 'bad girl' that ruled the moment. That's how I saw it, anyhow, so our delicious two week romance ended in a brittle parting in the middle of the night. I wrote her an email without rancor, being grateful for what we shared, and maybe I'll hear back. She only seems to check her email on her day off, so, oh well, it was a wonderful chapter, and who knows, maybe she did us a favor by getting buzzed on our last night. That's how I look at it, anyhow. And I miss her... could cry myself, actually...
Blind Faith
Yeah, what could go wrong? I'm sure that 'Lao Experience Travel' will handle all my needs. The guy is at least 21 years old and when I went in there this morning, he was counting different stacks of money, looking a bit confused and worse for wear on this fine morning. He assures me that my passport will be back right on schedule, with hours to spare before I get on the all night bus to Vientiane on Monday evening.
You have to give up your passport when you apply for a visa and they airmail it off to the consulate in Vientiane where they process the information and the money and then send your passport back to you. It allegedly arrives back here at 4:30 Monday, (don't worry, there's never a problem) and then I'll take a tuk tuk to the bus station to catch my ride.
To use my visa card for the airline ticket, I rode on the back of a motorcycle driven by his younger assistant (slight whiff of alcohol at 8am), no helmets, what could happen?, to the main office of the agency, where the two young women were watching some adventure TV show while they dealt with my credit card. Occassionally they'd look over at the set when the music changed, so as not to miss any plot twists. It wasn't quite the way it's done in the US, but like I say, Blind Faith, and all will be well?
There's some different Mojo going on during this stage of the trip, and rather than the relaxed, internal meditation of the Chiang Mai chapter, I feel like I'm keeping some balls in the air and hoping for the best. I'm making some decisions on the fly, and it feels like the adventure quotient is beginning to ratchet up. And that's fine, I'm not too nervous, though I prefer not to think about some of the stuff that could happen if say the passport doesn't make it back in time, or I can't figure out what to do from the Hanoi airport. Ah screw it, it'll all be fine, right?
Of course it will... (insert 'whistling past the graveyard music')
You have to give up your passport when you apply for a visa and they airmail it off to the consulate in Vientiane where they process the information and the money and then send your passport back to you. It allegedly arrives back here at 4:30 Monday, (don't worry, there's never a problem) and then I'll take a tuk tuk to the bus station to catch my ride.
To use my visa card for the airline ticket, I rode on the back of a motorcycle driven by his younger assistant (slight whiff of alcohol at 8am), no helmets, what could happen?, to the main office of the agency, where the two young women were watching some adventure TV show while they dealt with my credit card. Occassionally they'd look over at the set when the music changed, so as not to miss any plot twists. It wasn't quite the way it's done in the US, but like I say, Blind Faith, and all will be well?
There's some different Mojo going on during this stage of the trip, and rather than the relaxed, internal meditation of the Chiang Mai chapter, I feel like I'm keeping some balls in the air and hoping for the best. I'm making some decisions on the fly, and it feels like the adventure quotient is beginning to ratchet up. And that's fine, I'm not too nervous, though I prefer not to think about some of the stuff that could happen if say the passport doesn't make it back in time, or I can't figure out what to do from the Hanoi airport. Ah screw it, it'll all be fine, right?
Of course it will... (insert 'whistling past the graveyard music')
Paying the Piper
Went down to a travel place to see about the possibilities for making it into Vietnam in time for Tet on Feb 3. It's do-able, but I'm gonna have to pay the price for leaving it til the last minute.... not that I'd change a thing, as the day to day check-in seemed truer than any fixed itinerary. But now that I've uprooted from chillin' in Chiang Mai, I'm ready to push it a little bit and put on some miles.
The best option would have been a direct flight from Luang Prabang to Hanoi, but they're sold out, so I have to go south through Vientienne and then connect to Hanoi. I could fly to Vientienne, but the connection isn't good so I'm looking at an overnight, 12 hour bus ride and then a flight that puts me into Hanoi on the 1st of Feb. in the late afternoon. Then I'll have to figure out how to get to Lan Anhs mom's house the next day, or maybe later that same day. There's also the matter of the visa, which is $90 for a month's stay in Vietnam, but that can't be helped.
It would be easy to just say, forget it, do something else, but there's a huge draw in seeing my Vietnamese friend, and more than that, I'm REALLY ready to get off the gringo trail and get away from 'where you from?' 'how long are you traveling' It's been too easy, too tourist centered, and it's time to get off that train. So I'm gonna spend the money and stay up all night as some kind of penance, that hopefully puts me into a non-tourist environment. That's the theory anyhow, and once I lay the money down tomorrow morning, It's a go. I'm ready.
The best option would have been a direct flight from Luang Prabang to Hanoi, but they're sold out, so I have to go south through Vientienne and then connect to Hanoi. I could fly to Vientienne, but the connection isn't good so I'm looking at an overnight, 12 hour bus ride and then a flight that puts me into Hanoi on the 1st of Feb. in the late afternoon. Then I'll have to figure out how to get to Lan Anhs mom's house the next day, or maybe later that same day. There's also the matter of the visa, which is $90 for a month's stay in Vietnam, but that can't be helped.
It would be easy to just say, forget it, do something else, but there's a huge draw in seeing my Vietnamese friend, and more than that, I'm REALLY ready to get off the gringo trail and get away from 'where you from?' 'how long are you traveling' It's been too easy, too tourist centered, and it's time to get off that train. So I'm gonna spend the money and stay up all night as some kind of penance, that hopefully puts me into a non-tourist environment. That's the theory anyhow, and once I lay the money down tomorrow morning, It's a go. I'm ready.
Rhymes two and three
Mekong King on a slow boat like a rowboat
Tobacco smoking tourists, purists, professors, low stressers
Headin down the waterway, land before Saturday
Heritage City, French style pretty
Fill up, rest stop, Pang Bang next stop
What was i thinking, everybody drinkin
They talk incessantly, sound is depressing me
Can't you take a breather, even the geezers go
Flapping their gum gum, why's it so humdrum
Silence is golden, insight to beholden
What's there to say, Jack, I heard it all way back
When I judge 'em, start to begrudge 'em
It's my reflection, self inspection
Ball breaker, that's me, check the history
Loud mouth critic, What's up wid it?
Time for a chill pill, take one? yes I will
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Don't know why they can't show some respect
Maybe act like a guest, not some drunken pestilence
Loud with your cronies, proud but it's phony
Ain't nothin' behind it, you're blinded, can't find it
Those rad tattoos and ratty hairdos
Won't hide an inside that's tacky and lacking
In substance and story, sorry it's boring
Whoring is whoring
Is it some fear of being alone?
Having a thought, taking a shot?
Leaving the herd, getting free like a bird
When the words all matter and the colors spatter
With your own secret pattern against the sky, Give it a try
Nothing to lose but the blues of banality
And that chump mentality, ain't no guarantee
But that's how you roll it, don't really control it
See what you're made of and what you're afraid of.
Tobacco smoking tourists, purists, professors, low stressers
Headin down the waterway, land before Saturday
Heritage City, French style pretty
Fill up, rest stop, Pang Bang next stop
What was i thinking, everybody drinkin
They talk incessantly, sound is depressing me
Can't you take a breather, even the geezers go
Flapping their gum gum, why's it so humdrum
Silence is golden, insight to beholden
What's there to say, Jack, I heard it all way back
When I judge 'em, start to begrudge 'em
It's my reflection, self inspection
Ball breaker, that's me, check the history
Loud mouth critic, What's up wid it?
Time for a chill pill, take one? yes I will
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Don't know why they can't show some respect
Maybe act like a guest, not some drunken pestilence
Loud with your cronies, proud but it's phony
Ain't nothin' behind it, you're blinded, can't find it
Those rad tattoos and ratty hairdos
Won't hide an inside that's tacky and lacking
In substance and story, sorry it's boring
Whoring is whoring
Is it some fear of being alone?
Having a thought, taking a shot?
Leaving the herd, getting free like a bird
When the words all matter and the colors spatter
With your own secret pattern against the sky, Give it a try
Nothing to lose but the blues of banality
And that chump mentality, ain't no guarantee
But that's how you roll it, don't really control it
See what you're made of and what you're afraid of.
Luang Prabang, Laos
Well it took 3 days, one of them in a van, two of them on these cool 'slow boats' down the Mekong River, into the historic and beautiful city of Luang Prabang. At least they tell me it's historic and beautiful, but I haven't had a chance yet to explore. The town is fairly thick with visitors, and there were no openings at the first three guest houses I checked with, so I was happy to find the last room in a nice and friendly place, and there's even a computer or two for the guests to use. Et voila, I get to get back online.... something I missed while on the river.
Since it's the 'high season' in this part of the world, there are many westerners interested in making the same trip I did, with the result that the boats were oversold and crowded. There were a hundred on our boat that should hold about 60, but it wasn't too bad, like those ferries that keep going down in Sri Lanka, for instance, but it was tight. And they managed to get the numbers down and not have to put another boat on the route by giving us a little talk about how there might not be electricity in the first night's stayover... and with the mosquitos and malaria and all.... if you want to take the air conditioned bus, it will only cost you an extra ten bucks. Sounded like a bit of a scam, which it likely was, but some 20 people went for it and the company managed to cram us into two boats instead of three. Ah sweet capitalism!
The Mekong is muddy, about a hundred yards wide on average during this stretch, and wends through beautiful hilly jungle into the interior of Laos. It was a relaxing ride, watching water buffalo, the occassional elephant, fishermen, gold miners panning for sparkly stuff, small villages, a fair amount of low-to-the-water flatboat traffic, kids running along the shoreline, sun shining, wind cooling.
We arrived at the stopover town, 'Pak Ben', something like that, and we disembarked to find a bunch of locals showing us pictures of the guest houses we could stay at cheaply. I got off the boat early, so I had my pick of places and was happy to find a ten dollar room with a private shower and a nice family. It's always nice to lay the pack down and know that you're covered.
Not surprisingly, a large percentage of the town's economy is geared to the 150-200 westerners who come through daily, so there were many stores where we could supply up for tomorrow, get our water and sandwiches and whatever else. Among the 'whatever else' was some contraband material. The girl who hooked me up with the room is the daughter of the owners. She's 21, cute, has a kid, and her English is pretty good. In the evening, she asked if I wanted to order some breakfast for the following morning. Do you want some beer, cigarettes, water, weed? I said, 'did you say weed'. She said, yeah, a lot of the travelers want weed. Uh, no thanks, but hey, talk about your full service guest houses. Who knew?
A few young men from the town were also trying to sell pot or opium to the westerners, which felt a little sad. Also sad was the behavior of some of the younger tourists, many of whom got roaring drunk on the boat, knocking down shots of straight vodka after a bunch of beers, and getting loud and obnoxious. One Irish girl passed out and had to be helped and cared for. Way to go, Molly Malone.
On the boat ride yesterday, I was feeling quite musical, and I first wrote a little jazz tune that I liked, and even came up with some solid lyrics, so it was a one-shot song creation, and it's a tune that fits into that 1930's type stuff that I love so well. I'll be using it for sure, and for sure I'll intro it by saying I wrote it on a boat that was floating down the Mekong River in Laos.
One little glance, a bit of a look
Was there a chance? I put down the book
That's all that it took
A little word, and after a while.....
I caught a little smile
And oh what a world would open up that night
A boy and a girl, destiny and delight
Who could have known that the rapture of romance
Would all begin with one little glance
Glauber, you are a retro dude.... But it's a good tune, you'll like it, kinda Cole Porterish (if I do say so.... and I do)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Spent today's ride next to a 54 year old guy from Menorca (Spain) and we had some good conversation, 90 percent of it in Spanish. His best line. 'Nos ven como billetes con patas' 'they see us as dollar bills with feet' (rough translation, talking about how the Laotians see us). The younger crowd was more sedate, and undoubtedly hung over, so it was a pleasant 8 hour cruise into Luang Prabang. It's night time now so I'll go and find some dinner, get my bearings and start researching what it's gonna take to get a visa into Vietnam. I have about 6 days to get to where I'm going, north of Hanoi so it will be good to get the process going now so I have time to explore this area... Deep breath, glad to be here and located. Let's see what's up...
Since it's the 'high season' in this part of the world, there are many westerners interested in making the same trip I did, with the result that the boats were oversold and crowded. There were a hundred on our boat that should hold about 60, but it wasn't too bad, like those ferries that keep going down in Sri Lanka, for instance, but it was tight. And they managed to get the numbers down and not have to put another boat on the route by giving us a little talk about how there might not be electricity in the first night's stayover... and with the mosquitos and malaria and all.... if you want to take the air conditioned bus, it will only cost you an extra ten bucks. Sounded like a bit of a scam, which it likely was, but some 20 people went for it and the company managed to cram us into two boats instead of three. Ah sweet capitalism!
The Mekong is muddy, about a hundred yards wide on average during this stretch, and wends through beautiful hilly jungle into the interior of Laos. It was a relaxing ride, watching water buffalo, the occassional elephant, fishermen, gold miners panning for sparkly stuff, small villages, a fair amount of low-to-the-water flatboat traffic, kids running along the shoreline, sun shining, wind cooling.
We arrived at the stopover town, 'Pak Ben', something like that, and we disembarked to find a bunch of locals showing us pictures of the guest houses we could stay at cheaply. I got off the boat early, so I had my pick of places and was happy to find a ten dollar room with a private shower and a nice family. It's always nice to lay the pack down and know that you're covered.
Not surprisingly, a large percentage of the town's economy is geared to the 150-200 westerners who come through daily, so there were many stores where we could supply up for tomorrow, get our water and sandwiches and whatever else. Among the 'whatever else' was some contraband material. The girl who hooked me up with the room is the daughter of the owners. She's 21, cute, has a kid, and her English is pretty good. In the evening, she asked if I wanted to order some breakfast for the following morning. Do you want some beer, cigarettes, water, weed? I said, 'did you say weed'. She said, yeah, a lot of the travelers want weed. Uh, no thanks, but hey, talk about your full service guest houses. Who knew?
A few young men from the town were also trying to sell pot or opium to the westerners, which felt a little sad. Also sad was the behavior of some of the younger tourists, many of whom got roaring drunk on the boat, knocking down shots of straight vodka after a bunch of beers, and getting loud and obnoxious. One Irish girl passed out and had to be helped and cared for. Way to go, Molly Malone.
On the boat ride yesterday, I was feeling quite musical, and I first wrote a little jazz tune that I liked, and even came up with some solid lyrics, so it was a one-shot song creation, and it's a tune that fits into that 1930's type stuff that I love so well. I'll be using it for sure, and for sure I'll intro it by saying I wrote it on a boat that was floating down the Mekong River in Laos.
One little glance, a bit of a look
Was there a chance? I put down the book
That's all that it took
A little word, and after a while.....
I caught a little smile
And oh what a world would open up that night
A boy and a girl, destiny and delight
Who could have known that the rapture of romance
Would all begin with one little glance
Glauber, you are a retro dude.... But it's a good tune, you'll like it, kinda Cole Porterish (if I do say so.... and I do)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Spent today's ride next to a 54 year old guy from Menorca (Spain) and we had some good conversation, 90 percent of it in Spanish. His best line. 'Nos ven como billetes con patas' 'they see us as dollar bills with feet' (rough translation, talking about how the Laotians see us). The younger crowd was more sedate, and undoubtedly hung over, so it was a pleasant 8 hour cruise into Luang Prabang. It's night time now so I'll go and find some dinner, get my bearings and start researching what it's gonna take to get a visa into Vietnam. I have about 6 days to get to where I'm going, north of Hanoi so it will be good to get the process going now so I have time to explore this area... Deep breath, glad to be here and located. Let's see what's up...
Any minute now....
I'm packed and prepped and waiting for the van to show up that will start me on the journey into Laos. Had a sensational night in the bar last night, I felt it was my going away party, and I got to that place which is always the favorite musical place, that it, I got to just make it up on the fly, talk/sing about what was happening live, with a bunch of friends playing along. We had a little quartet going with three friends of mine, and I was more or less the leader, pulling out oldies, folk songs, Beach Boys, whatever, but the real fun happens when I just get to vocally riff while the music is playing.
An example being this British bloke Kevin, who likes to always throw in a couple of little circus riffs in between songs... either that or 'the pink panther' theme, it's kind of his signature schtick. But he usually screws it up somehow, so it's funny. Anyhow, in the middle of this loose two chord jam, he throws in the circus lick in a completely different key so it sounds like something out of Fellini on crack. That launched me into an impromptu soliloquy on Kevin wanting to join the circus band, but he screwed up the audition, so they offered him the 'donkey shit, sweeping' detail, rather than a spot in the band. It was just that kind of absurdist, live effort that people really respond to and have fun with, no one more than me.
And we had an awesome 'floor show' last night too, as the lovely, and formerly male 'Jenny' (23 years old) got really buzzed and was dancing provocatively in front of the musicians, adding more absurdity to the procedings. (especially when Kevin started dancing with her). That inspired me to call, 'Aint She Sweet', however I sand it as 'Ain't He Sweet', which seemed like the right call. People love that old swing stuff, and there was much singing along and general hilarity. Of course the other side of the coin is that by the end of the night Jenny was really out of it, looked like a combination of alcohol and maybe something else, so it's not all hilarity... (but it sure seemed like it at the time)
I exchanged some really warm farewells with my fellow musicians and with Jeff and Taow who run the bar, and they all made me feel like they really wanted me to come back through, that I have a home here. How awesome is that! And the funny thing was that I found the place purely by accident, as I was wondering around on another errand, I asked this guy if he knew where 'Panda Travel' was, and then noticed that there were guitars on the wall, and signs saying come and jam here.
An example being this British bloke Kevin, who likes to always throw in a couple of little circus riffs in between songs... either that or 'the pink panther' theme, it's kind of his signature schtick. But he usually screws it up somehow, so it's funny. Anyhow, in the middle of this loose two chord jam, he throws in the circus lick in a completely different key so it sounds like something out of Fellini on crack. That launched me into an impromptu soliloquy on Kevin wanting to join the circus band, but he screwed up the audition, so they offered him the 'donkey shit, sweeping' detail, rather than a spot in the band. It was just that kind of absurdist, live effort that people really respond to and have fun with, no one more than me.
And we had an awesome 'floor show' last night too, as the lovely, and formerly male 'Jenny' (23 years old) got really buzzed and was dancing provocatively in front of the musicians, adding more absurdity to the procedings. (especially when Kevin started dancing with her). That inspired me to call, 'Aint She Sweet', however I sand it as 'Ain't He Sweet', which seemed like the right call. People love that old swing stuff, and there was much singing along and general hilarity. Of course the other side of the coin is that by the end of the night Jenny was really out of it, looked like a combination of alcohol and maybe something else, so it's not all hilarity... (but it sure seemed like it at the time)
I exchanged some really warm farewells with my fellow musicians and with Jeff and Taow who run the bar, and they all made me feel like they really wanted me to come back through, that I have a home here. How awesome is that! And the funny thing was that I found the place purely by accident, as I was wondering around on another errand, I asked this guy if he knew where 'Panda Travel' was, and then noticed that there were guitars on the wall, and signs saying come and jam here.
Into the great wide open... (rebel without a clue)
I always liked that line from Tom Petty, and now I get it, as I never quite did before. The shoe fits. I know this because my 'in the moment' road philosphy might be coming in conflict with the immigration rules of countries I know next to nothing about. I figure, you just show up at the border with your passport and pay what they want and go from there, but apparently that's not necessarily the case. We shall see if I get delayed in Laos before I'm able to cross into Vietnam. hopefully not, as I'm on a fairly tight schedule to make it to Lan Anh's mom's place in time to celebrate the traditional Tet (New Year's) festival.
And yeah, every time I think of 'Tet', it's immediately followed by 'Offensive', as the Tet Offensive was the turning point of the Vietnam War, when the North ratcheted up the pressure, made a sustained attack on our forces, and basically kicked our ass until the ever growing dissension back at home (and Walter Cronkite) convinced Johnson that this thing was unwinnable. And Nixon's 'peace with honor'? Uh, go fuck yourself, Dick. (not that I have any strong feelings about it or anything).
And now 40 years later, that grown up, war protesting ex-teenager is going to try and scoot into Vietnam to celebrate Tet with his Vietnamese 'daughter'. Lan Anh came and stayed with us last summer and our joke was that she called me 'Daddy' and I called her 'daughter'. The ages are about right for that, and we had a wonderful connection when she was in towh for her conference. We've been emailing back and forth and I sign my letters, 'Rich Daddy' (cause everyone wants a rich daddy, right?)
One of the drawbacks of 'Be Here Now' is that occassionally it's good to have a plan, good to make arrangements, get the entry visa for such and such a date so you can waltz through the border. But that ship has sailed, and I'm going to see what happens from Luang Prabang, where I'll arrive in 3 days. Hopefully, I'll be able to arrange passage into Nam without a lot of hassle, and if there are delays, oh well, somethng else will happen. It's back to that philosophy I embraced as a 20 year old, cruising through Mexico for the first time. (an early version of 'reber without a clue'). I had a great book with me, 'The People's Guide to Mexico', and it's watchword was 'wherever you go, there you are'. In other words, when stuff happens on the road, rather than lament the missed connection to Veracruz, just dig where you are, and let the story unfold from there. It was true then, and it's true now.
But what the hell is up with the ATM machine which wouldn't give me any money today? I'm hoping it's because I made a withdrawal in the last 24 hours and therefore it's being flagged as 'over the available balance', because there's plenty of money in the account. I'll try later in the day, or tommorrow before I board the van that begins the sojourn into Laos. I have about $100 worth of cash on hand now, which will last awhile, but there are expenses ahead, like a $30 Laos visa, so I'll need to be able to get some cash before too long. Gulp
So gulp number one is a visa into Vietnam, gulp number two is, 'what about some cash' and gulp number three is this awesome woman who I really like, and what do I do about it. I could go to Vietnam, spend the holiday and then make my way back this a way, or I could just figure, 'what a great adventure it's been, gracias, adios'. From here of course, I'm feeling attached and happy and not wanting it to end, so it sounds nice to come back into a loving embrace. But then again, I could leave town, start getting attracted to other women and other adventures. I guess I won't know until I'm out there for a little while.
M and I have been talking about it. She would definitely wait for me if I was coming back here in a few weeks, so that's our conversation the last few days. I think the best answer for now is to not make any decisions until I have a week on the road and can check in with where my heart is and with how I process the whole whirlwind that has been. That will be my proposal when we talk later today, or like really soon, as I'm gonna head back to the room, wake her up, go for soup and coffee, and enjoy this beautiful day.
And yeah, every time I think of 'Tet', it's immediately followed by 'Offensive', as the Tet Offensive was the turning point of the Vietnam War, when the North ratcheted up the pressure, made a sustained attack on our forces, and basically kicked our ass until the ever growing dissension back at home (and Walter Cronkite) convinced Johnson that this thing was unwinnable. And Nixon's 'peace with honor'? Uh, go fuck yourself, Dick. (not that I have any strong feelings about it or anything).
And now 40 years later, that grown up, war protesting ex-teenager is going to try and scoot into Vietnam to celebrate Tet with his Vietnamese 'daughter'. Lan Anh came and stayed with us last summer and our joke was that she called me 'Daddy' and I called her 'daughter'. The ages are about right for that, and we had a wonderful connection when she was in towh for her conference. We've been emailing back and forth and I sign my letters, 'Rich Daddy' (cause everyone wants a rich daddy, right?)
One of the drawbacks of 'Be Here Now' is that occassionally it's good to have a plan, good to make arrangements, get the entry visa for such and such a date so you can waltz through the border. But that ship has sailed, and I'm going to see what happens from Luang Prabang, where I'll arrive in 3 days. Hopefully, I'll be able to arrange passage into Nam without a lot of hassle, and if there are delays, oh well, somethng else will happen. It's back to that philosophy I embraced as a 20 year old, cruising through Mexico for the first time. (an early version of 'reber without a clue'). I had a great book with me, 'The People's Guide to Mexico', and it's watchword was 'wherever you go, there you are'. In other words, when stuff happens on the road, rather than lament the missed connection to Veracruz, just dig where you are, and let the story unfold from there. It was true then, and it's true now.
But what the hell is up with the ATM machine which wouldn't give me any money today? I'm hoping it's because I made a withdrawal in the last 24 hours and therefore it's being flagged as 'over the available balance', because there's plenty of money in the account. I'll try later in the day, or tommorrow before I board the van that begins the sojourn into Laos. I have about $100 worth of cash on hand now, which will last awhile, but there are expenses ahead, like a $30 Laos visa, so I'll need to be able to get some cash before too long. Gulp
So gulp number one is a visa into Vietnam, gulp number two is, 'what about some cash' and gulp number three is this awesome woman who I really like, and what do I do about it. I could go to Vietnam, spend the holiday and then make my way back this a way, or I could just figure, 'what a great adventure it's been, gracias, adios'. From here of course, I'm feeling attached and happy and not wanting it to end, so it sounds nice to come back into a loving embrace. But then again, I could leave town, start getting attracted to other women and other adventures. I guess I won't know until I'm out there for a little while.
M and I have been talking about it. She would definitely wait for me if I was coming back here in a few weeks, so that's our conversation the last few days. I think the best answer for now is to not make any decisions until I have a week on the road and can check in with where my heart is and with how I process the whole whirlwind that has been. That will be my proposal when we talk later today, or like really soon, as I'm gonna head back to the room, wake her up, go for soup and coffee, and enjoy this beautiful day.
Thai boxing down hooker alley....
Well if we're gonna go 'tawdry', might as well do it in one fell swoop, which is the way it came down this evening. Since my time is short here in Chiang Mai, I figured it was a good opportunity to experience the Muay Thai boxing phenomenon, which is the martial art from this neck of the woods. I have the same feeling I had when watching a mediocre bullfight in Spain, kinda dirty but not totally grossed out. And once is enough, thank you very much.
What drew me down there was the fact that I knew a guy who was going to fight in the last match of the evening. He's an ultra confident young guy from Quebec, super fit, 140 pounds of trained martial artistry. He wears glasses, though he switched to contact lenses for his bout, short dark hair, short beard, live body. His name is Jeremy, though he was listed as J on the fight card. (Plus the fact they had him as coming from Australia, but what the hell, it was billed as an international match, and that was at least correct.
To get to the arena, you walk through a bar laden, farang street, where there are plenty of women calling at you to come join them for a drink or a massage. Then you take a right turn into the red light-est place around, an alley of garish bar after garish bar and it's quite obvious what is being proffered. The boxing ring is set into that environment, under a metal roof, stark lighting, bar type music, lots of ladies and lady boys lingering about. Feels like Times Square when it was full of porno houses and peep shows back in the 70s. Cheap, tawdry and garish.
There were about a hundred Farang who had paid between $13-$18 dollars for the spectacle, and maybe the same number of Thais who I'm sure paid a small fraction of that. There were 7 bouts on the card, and the first two were between young teenagers. There is a ritual where they put on this 'Survivor' type 'welcome to the tribe' music while the combatants slowly walk around the ring, touching the upper rope and bowing at each corner. Then it's time to start whaling on eachother.
Most of the bouts ended when someone got either kicked or punched in the gut. There were a lot of head punches thrown, the the real damage happened when someone got nailed in the solar plexus, and went down and out. Ouch, it looked unpleasant and they were helped out of the ring, looking worse for wear.
The third match was two women, and after that they had some weird 'blindfold match' where three guys were in the ring tossing haymakers at each other while blindfolded. When it was over, I started singing, 'That's entertainment'. Those guys then walked through the crowd passing the hat. I passed on the hat, sorry.
The better bouts were at the end, and it was kind of interesting in a 'blood sport' sort of way. There was a lot of taunting between the combatants, 'you can't touch me' swaggering, gesticulating and making faces. One guy was really working it, until he got dropped on his ass, and suddenly his bravado was gone, and soon so was he.
Our man jeremy had the match of the night. I was watching him beforehand, limbering up, getting oiled up and stretched out by his trainer, but he was also telling his buddy how to use the camera, to make sure he captured it all. Dude is a showman, stepped into the ring, started pumping his fists to fire up the crowd, then made that walk around the ring, but was mugging for the camera as well as bowing to the corners. He was confident, as well he might be after dispatching his previous opponent in 20 seconds.
This one took two rounds, and it was compelling action throughout. Something about having a white dude in there made it more interesting, and his martial art skill was very apparent, his speed and extension and general bad ass-ness had me very interested. In the second round there was a fierce skirmish that ended when Jeremy got a clean punch at the guy's midsection, and that was all she wrote. he went down in a heap, and wasn't getting up. The ref raised Jeremy's hand, the crowd applauded and he was out of the ring, posing for pictures, being hugged by his girlfriend du jour, who just had to get her arms around him, letting the others know that 'this one's taken'. He was impressive, I'm not sorry I went, but a shower sounds pretty good right about now. Wash the tawdry off....
What drew me down there was the fact that I knew a guy who was going to fight in the last match of the evening. He's an ultra confident young guy from Quebec, super fit, 140 pounds of trained martial artistry. He wears glasses, though he switched to contact lenses for his bout, short dark hair, short beard, live body. His name is Jeremy, though he was listed as J on the fight card. (Plus the fact they had him as coming from Australia, but what the hell, it was billed as an international match, and that was at least correct.
To get to the arena, you walk through a bar laden, farang street, where there are plenty of women calling at you to come join them for a drink or a massage. Then you take a right turn into the red light-est place around, an alley of garish bar after garish bar and it's quite obvious what is being proffered. The boxing ring is set into that environment, under a metal roof, stark lighting, bar type music, lots of ladies and lady boys lingering about. Feels like Times Square when it was full of porno houses and peep shows back in the 70s. Cheap, tawdry and garish.
There were about a hundred Farang who had paid between $13-$18 dollars for the spectacle, and maybe the same number of Thais who I'm sure paid a small fraction of that. There were 7 bouts on the card, and the first two were between young teenagers. There is a ritual where they put on this 'Survivor' type 'welcome to the tribe' music while the combatants slowly walk around the ring, touching the upper rope and bowing at each corner. Then it's time to start whaling on eachother.
Most of the bouts ended when someone got either kicked or punched in the gut. There were a lot of head punches thrown, the the real damage happened when someone got nailed in the solar plexus, and went down and out. Ouch, it looked unpleasant and they were helped out of the ring, looking worse for wear.
The third match was two women, and after that they had some weird 'blindfold match' where three guys were in the ring tossing haymakers at each other while blindfolded. When it was over, I started singing, 'That's entertainment'. Those guys then walked through the crowd passing the hat. I passed on the hat, sorry.
The better bouts were at the end, and it was kind of interesting in a 'blood sport' sort of way. There was a lot of taunting between the combatants, 'you can't touch me' swaggering, gesticulating and making faces. One guy was really working it, until he got dropped on his ass, and suddenly his bravado was gone, and soon so was he.
Our man jeremy had the match of the night. I was watching him beforehand, limbering up, getting oiled up and stretched out by his trainer, but he was also telling his buddy how to use the camera, to make sure he captured it all. Dude is a showman, stepped into the ring, started pumping his fists to fire up the crowd, then made that walk around the ring, but was mugging for the camera as well as bowing to the corners. He was confident, as well he might be after dispatching his previous opponent in 20 seconds.
This one took two rounds, and it was compelling action throughout. Something about having a white dude in there made it more interesting, and his martial art skill was very apparent, his speed and extension and general bad ass-ness had me very interested. In the second round there was a fierce skirmish that ended when Jeremy got a clean punch at the guy's midsection, and that was all she wrote. he went down in a heap, and wasn't getting up. The ref raised Jeremy's hand, the crowd applauded and he was out of the ring, posing for pictures, being hugged by his girlfriend du jour, who just had to get her arms around him, letting the others know that 'this one's taken'. He was impressive, I'm not sorry I went, but a shower sounds pretty good right about now. Wash the tawdry off....
Moving Day....
Back at the cheap internet spot, locals only, mostly kids playing video games, plus me, the farang writer who likes the cheap access.... 35 cents an hour for some good high-speed action.
I've decided that Wednesday is D Day, and I'll buy my ticket for the 3 day trip to Luang Prabang later this evening. I can get it for about $50, which includes two night's lodging, 3 meals, and the van and boat trips which will put me into Laos. Such a deal! I have a guy who I've been using for travel stuff, his English is good, he's sweet, kinda gay, I'm guessing, and he gets my business because I like his style and thoroughness and honesty. I think he likes me too, but that's about as far as it goes, eh.
I spent a wonderful 25 hour stretch with the lovely M, and there wasn't a moment when I wanted to be anywhere else. (except for when she was sleeping, and I did some stuff). And at the end of it, as we were having coffee and our typical breakfast of rice soup with either ground pork or chicken, I got into one of those mind places that triggered the 'I want to write about this' feeling in my brain. So here goes.
One of the parts of my personality that needs work is this need I have for recognition, strokes, positive feedback, reassurance. I remember when I was about 12 years old at the doctor's office and was nervous about getting a shot. The doctor says to my mom, in a very nasal new york accent, "Lois, Richie needs a lot of reassurance" Me and mom laugh about it now, but it was likely a telling statement on his part.
Up til now, I've attributed my desire for positive vocal feedback to the fact that I'm so aurally focused that I need to 'hear' stuff in order to 'understand' it. I tend to be visually lazy and easily confused by visual stuff. Reading music was a terrible chore, and I always sucked at it. It took me so long to decipher and decode written music that it became too much of a frustration, and I gave it up. But I can hear progressions really well and play by ear really well. Put the same stuff I'm playing in musical notation, and I'm totally lost. Ditto with reading a menu. Show me a long menu with lots of items, my mind basically shuts down and I have trouble making a selection based on a bunch of written material. I'd be infinitely happier if someone says, 'you want the chicken or the fish?'
So yeah, it was a convenient answer to say that I needed spoken acknowledgement in order to feel good about myself. After all, when I hear it, I know it. Didn't Bob Marley write, 'who hears it knows it, lord'. That would be me.
But there's more to it than that, as evidenced by our interaction over breakfast. I found myself wanting to hear, 'Rich you're so awesome, I'm so lucky to have met you, what a lover, all those kinds of comments that I'm quite free in expressing to her, or to others as well. I like to give the positive feedback, and maybe it's my way of hoping it comes back in my direction as well. Or maybe I'm just expressive like that.
Anyhow, it wasn't coming back to me in that way, and I found myself slipping into that state of wanting to hear it, and having that desire start to color my experience. I was observing my mind do this thing, so it wasn't a case of bumming out or being disappointed in not hearing it, more it was an awareness of this place that my mind tends to go. (and the thought that 'I should write about that')
She saw me get thoughtful and asked if I'm OK. I said 'I'll tell you if you're interested'... she nodded and I moved my chair closer to her side of the table, as I didn't want to broadcast my inner world to the rest of the customers. She said, 'you can tell me from there, I can hear you' (not knowing that I was going to try and delve into some sensitive stuff). That stung a bit and I retreated to my spot like a hurt child, yet another button, sheesh. But I didn't get too far into the hurt place, and explained that it's kind of private and I don't want others to overhear what I was going to try and process. And then I went back to the closer spot.
I made it clear that I wasn't looking for her to change anything, this was about me and wanting to explore this thing that's been with me for decades. So I explained it and didn't let her interrupt me until I was done. She heard me well, and then shared some wisdom from her perspective. 'If I don't like you, I don't stay with you, I don't go to your place, I don't make love with you' 'It easy to say 'I love you' but sometime people say I love you and then act different. You can tell from my body language and the way I treat you'...
There was something healing in just being able to have the conversation in the first place, to be understood and to listen and be listened to. If feels like one more unraveling of the onion, one more experience of observing the mind, rather than being dominated by it. She asked if I'm OK, and yeah, of course I am, but not in the happy-go-lucky 'everything is beautiful' way. It was a thoughtful and emotional space, and definitely a good foray into solving one of my long time issues. Gratitude about that.
I walked her home, and she put on some music, and what she chose was Peter Paul and Mary singing 'Leaving on a Jet Plane', about leaving one's love 'don't know when I'll be back again'. She likes those songs where she can really understand and sing along with the English. It triggered some emotion from me, just the bizarre circumstance of her putting that song on, made me cry and laugh at the same time. She asked 'you cry or laugh?' I said, 'yes'.
I've decided that Wednesday is D Day, and I'll buy my ticket for the 3 day trip to Luang Prabang later this evening. I can get it for about $50, which includes two night's lodging, 3 meals, and the van and boat trips which will put me into Laos. Such a deal! I have a guy who I've been using for travel stuff, his English is good, he's sweet, kinda gay, I'm guessing, and he gets my business because I like his style and thoroughness and honesty. I think he likes me too, but that's about as far as it goes, eh.
I spent a wonderful 25 hour stretch with the lovely M, and there wasn't a moment when I wanted to be anywhere else. (except for when she was sleeping, and I did some stuff). And at the end of it, as we were having coffee and our typical breakfast of rice soup with either ground pork or chicken, I got into one of those mind places that triggered the 'I want to write about this' feeling in my brain. So here goes.
One of the parts of my personality that needs work is this need I have for recognition, strokes, positive feedback, reassurance. I remember when I was about 12 years old at the doctor's office and was nervous about getting a shot. The doctor says to my mom, in a very nasal new york accent, "Lois, Richie needs a lot of reassurance" Me and mom laugh about it now, but it was likely a telling statement on his part.
Up til now, I've attributed my desire for positive vocal feedback to the fact that I'm so aurally focused that I need to 'hear' stuff in order to 'understand' it. I tend to be visually lazy and easily confused by visual stuff. Reading music was a terrible chore, and I always sucked at it. It took me so long to decipher and decode written music that it became too much of a frustration, and I gave it up. But I can hear progressions really well and play by ear really well. Put the same stuff I'm playing in musical notation, and I'm totally lost. Ditto with reading a menu. Show me a long menu with lots of items, my mind basically shuts down and I have trouble making a selection based on a bunch of written material. I'd be infinitely happier if someone says, 'you want the chicken or the fish?'
So yeah, it was a convenient answer to say that I needed spoken acknowledgement in order to feel good about myself. After all, when I hear it, I know it. Didn't Bob Marley write, 'who hears it knows it, lord'. That would be me.
But there's more to it than that, as evidenced by our interaction over breakfast. I found myself wanting to hear, 'Rich you're so awesome, I'm so lucky to have met you, what a lover, all those kinds of comments that I'm quite free in expressing to her, or to others as well. I like to give the positive feedback, and maybe it's my way of hoping it comes back in my direction as well. Or maybe I'm just expressive like that.
Anyhow, it wasn't coming back to me in that way, and I found myself slipping into that state of wanting to hear it, and having that desire start to color my experience. I was observing my mind do this thing, so it wasn't a case of bumming out or being disappointed in not hearing it, more it was an awareness of this place that my mind tends to go. (and the thought that 'I should write about that')
She saw me get thoughtful and asked if I'm OK. I said 'I'll tell you if you're interested'... she nodded and I moved my chair closer to her side of the table, as I didn't want to broadcast my inner world to the rest of the customers. She said, 'you can tell me from there, I can hear you' (not knowing that I was going to try and delve into some sensitive stuff). That stung a bit and I retreated to my spot like a hurt child, yet another button, sheesh. But I didn't get too far into the hurt place, and explained that it's kind of private and I don't want others to overhear what I was going to try and process. And then I went back to the closer spot.
I made it clear that I wasn't looking for her to change anything, this was about me and wanting to explore this thing that's been with me for decades. So I explained it and didn't let her interrupt me until I was done. She heard me well, and then shared some wisdom from her perspective. 'If I don't like you, I don't stay with you, I don't go to your place, I don't make love with you' 'It easy to say 'I love you' but sometime people say I love you and then act different. You can tell from my body language and the way I treat you'...
There was something healing in just being able to have the conversation in the first place, to be understood and to listen and be listened to. If feels like one more unraveling of the onion, one more experience of observing the mind, rather than being dominated by it. She asked if I'm OK, and yeah, of course I am, but not in the happy-go-lucky 'everything is beautiful' way. It was a thoughtful and emotional space, and definitely a good foray into solving one of my long time issues. Gratitude about that.
I walked her home, and she put on some music, and what she chose was Peter Paul and Mary singing 'Leaving on a Jet Plane', about leaving one's love 'don't know when I'll be back again'. She likes those songs where she can really understand and sing along with the English. It triggered some emotion from me, just the bizarre circumstance of her putting that song on, made me cry and laugh at the same time. She asked 'you cry or laugh?' I said, 'yes'.
Downstairs at the Guest House, one hour to write
I left the lovely M sleeping in my bed and it's now 11am on a Monday morning. We were asleep by 11pm last night, but she seems to be one who loads up on sleep when available, as a hedge against a busy and effort filled week, and since yesterday was her day off (when she'd normally sleep most of the day away), she's catching up on it now. There's no way I could hang out in bed that long, so I'm doing some errands, taking care of some correspondence, and maybe writing a bit.
Last night we got some food at the awesome Sunday street fair, then retired to her place to hang out some. She wanted to do some housecleaning and straightening up, while I lay back, watched some Thai TV and dozed. Eventually we were gonna head over to my place to sleep, but before we did, she wanted to share some of her life with me. Under her bed, she's got a couple of trunks that store her stuff. (It's a one room place, not a lot of storage, so she uses under the bed as her closet).
It was enlightening to say the least. I knew that she was an unusual person, an original, and that was reflected in the stuff she pulled out. Massage manuals, she trained for a long time and is really good at it.... Watercolor paintings of flowers and other nature... she's good at that too.... some other artwork stuff, books by the Dalai Lama, diplomas from some of the courses she's attended, advanced yoga training materials, she trained and taught for 6 years until a neck injury sidelined her, yeah and I saw the neck xrays too, though I didn't really know what I was looking at.
I guess what I'm trying to get across is this notion that here is a woman who grew up poor in Bangkok, the 9th of 10 kids, and she self made her life into something that seems more like someone you'd meet in Portland,OR. And she did it with no support whatever, working to put herself through the various programs, always buying books, always curious and growing, I'm more than impressed. Even though she's small and dark and gorgeous, she feels like my people as opposed to some little exotic adventure that has no relationship to 'real life' I like her a lot, and am inspired by her, as she makes me question my own lack of curiousity. How lucky to meet up with this person!
Contrast that with the energy I just encountered in a bar around the corner. Since M was still needing more sleep, I figured I'd go out and watch the end of the NFL game, some bar must have opened early to bring in some American visitors. Ah there it is, 4 guys watching the Jets/Steelers and the talk is all hookers, blowjobs, don't tell my wife, threeways, look at this video from last night, it was crazy, is the guest house 'guest friendly' (can you bring your whore there?). The bar owner was a yound Danish dude, bleach blond, had been up all night, outgoing and debauched. His customers were a couple of Americans and a Brit, they'd been up all night, drinking since 8pm and now it was 9am. It was an OK vibe actually, but I'm so glad to not be part of that energy. I can smile at it, even accept it (as the would-be Buddhist that I fancy myself to be), but I want no part of that world.
I emailed with my Vietnamese friend Lan Anh, who has invited me to celebrate Tet (New Year's) at her mom's house in Thai Nguyen Province, some 60 kilometers out of Hanoi. That is very exciting news, and it sounds amazing to have that kind of an 'in' into Vietnam. I'm gonna do it. The timing is right. I feel very resolved with the situation here and it's OK to leave. I think I'll make it out of here either tomorrow or the day after, and what a journey it should be.
There is a three day trip, including two long boat rides on the Mekong River that gets you to Luang Prabang in North Central Laos. I think it's the capital but I'm not sure, but it is a world heritage city, and I'm going there. I love the idea of a slow boat trip on the Mekong, seeing the country flow by, playing some guitar, fuckin A it sounds great. After that, it's a bus ride south to Vientiane, and then cross into Vietnam and make my way to Hanoi. I'm sure I'll figure out how to get to where Lan Anh is, and I hope to spend some quality time with her and her people.
Now that my time here is short, I'll make some farewells to the friends I've made, I'll write some kind of summation of what I saw here, and then beat it. I just talked to the French Canadian dude who was talking about 'Round House' and I thought he was saying Ram Dass. He won his Muay Thai boxing match the other night and is fighting againg tonight at around 9:30. He's a martial artist from Quebec, slender and ripped, and he beat his guy in 20 seconds. Tonight he's on again, and he says, I should bet on him if I want to earn some money. I think maybe I'll just do that. Haven't seen the Thai Boxing yet, and hey, I know a guy who's gonna compete. Costs about $10 to get in, which is a big expense these days, but hey, sounds like the right time. Maybe I'll make it back at the betting window... Oh yeah, O Canada
Last night we got some food at the awesome Sunday street fair, then retired to her place to hang out some. She wanted to do some housecleaning and straightening up, while I lay back, watched some Thai TV and dozed. Eventually we were gonna head over to my place to sleep, but before we did, she wanted to share some of her life with me. Under her bed, she's got a couple of trunks that store her stuff. (It's a one room place, not a lot of storage, so she uses under the bed as her closet).
It was enlightening to say the least. I knew that she was an unusual person, an original, and that was reflected in the stuff she pulled out. Massage manuals, she trained for a long time and is really good at it.... Watercolor paintings of flowers and other nature... she's good at that too.... some other artwork stuff, books by the Dalai Lama, diplomas from some of the courses she's attended, advanced yoga training materials, she trained and taught for 6 years until a neck injury sidelined her, yeah and I saw the neck xrays too, though I didn't really know what I was looking at.
I guess what I'm trying to get across is this notion that here is a woman who grew up poor in Bangkok, the 9th of 10 kids, and she self made her life into something that seems more like someone you'd meet in Portland,OR. And she did it with no support whatever, working to put herself through the various programs, always buying books, always curious and growing, I'm more than impressed. Even though she's small and dark and gorgeous, she feels like my people as opposed to some little exotic adventure that has no relationship to 'real life' I like her a lot, and am inspired by her, as she makes me question my own lack of curiousity. How lucky to meet up with this person!
Contrast that with the energy I just encountered in a bar around the corner. Since M was still needing more sleep, I figured I'd go out and watch the end of the NFL game, some bar must have opened early to bring in some American visitors. Ah there it is, 4 guys watching the Jets/Steelers and the talk is all hookers, blowjobs, don't tell my wife, threeways, look at this video from last night, it was crazy, is the guest house 'guest friendly' (can you bring your whore there?). The bar owner was a yound Danish dude, bleach blond, had been up all night, outgoing and debauched. His customers were a couple of Americans and a Brit, they'd been up all night, drinking since 8pm and now it was 9am. It was an OK vibe actually, but I'm so glad to not be part of that energy. I can smile at it, even accept it (as the would-be Buddhist that I fancy myself to be), but I want no part of that world.
I emailed with my Vietnamese friend Lan Anh, who has invited me to celebrate Tet (New Year's) at her mom's house in Thai Nguyen Province, some 60 kilometers out of Hanoi. That is very exciting news, and it sounds amazing to have that kind of an 'in' into Vietnam. I'm gonna do it. The timing is right. I feel very resolved with the situation here and it's OK to leave. I think I'll make it out of here either tomorrow or the day after, and what a journey it should be.
There is a three day trip, including two long boat rides on the Mekong River that gets you to Luang Prabang in North Central Laos. I think it's the capital but I'm not sure, but it is a world heritage city, and I'm going there. I love the idea of a slow boat trip on the Mekong, seeing the country flow by, playing some guitar, fuckin A it sounds great. After that, it's a bus ride south to Vientiane, and then cross into Vietnam and make my way to Hanoi. I'm sure I'll figure out how to get to where Lan Anh is, and I hope to spend some quality time with her and her people.
Now that my time here is short, I'll make some farewells to the friends I've made, I'll write some kind of summation of what I saw here, and then beat it. I just talked to the French Canadian dude who was talking about 'Round House' and I thought he was saying Ram Dass. He won his Muay Thai boxing match the other night and is fighting againg tonight at around 9:30. He's a martial artist from Quebec, slender and ripped, and he beat his guy in 20 seconds. Tonight he's on again, and he says, I should bet on him if I want to earn some money. I think maybe I'll just do that. Haven't seen the Thai Boxing yet, and hey, I know a guy who's gonna compete. Costs about $10 to get in, which is a big expense these days, but hey, sounds like the right time. Maybe I'll make it back at the betting window... Oh yeah, O Canada
And now, the rest of the story... (Paul Harvey RIP)
Well the last post was a fairly simple (and hopefully accuarate) summation of the part of me that can put it in a box, seal it up tight, and then hit the road.... again. Seems easy when it's just me talking to me, it all makes sense.
So I did some errands until 1pm, the errands included dropping off my laundry at the Chinese family that has a little laundry business, stopping by the bookstore for some road reading, in this case a book by Elmore Leonard, and one by Herman Hesse. (from the ridiculous to the sublime perhaps?) And then I stopped by M's place to see if she was awake yet? We had said goodnight on less than good terms, and I wanted to reconnect and eventually initiate the 'farewell' conversation.
Knock knock.... I see the window blind move as she checked to see who was there, and then the door opened. She was still sleeping, needed some more rest, which was what I expected. She was real happy to see me, wasn't sure if I were mad at her, so we snuggled a bit while 'Law and Order SVU' played softly on her TV set. She's funny like that, tends to fall asleep with the TV on, and will flip it on in the middle of the night if she wakes up. (not unlike yours truly). She likes to have the English Language stuff on as a way to improve her understanding and command.
Without going into detail, (yeah, I'm honest, but I'll leave some things private), we ended up hanging out for about 3 hours, during which we talked, connected and shared some of the kind of memorable time that makes life so incredibly sweet. There were some tears, but mostly just sweetness and understanding, and phenomenal 'sharing' and I'm feeling incredibly grateful at the moment, looking over at her now on the next computer, checking her email, which she gets to about once a week.
It's like the other side of the coin. I kind of know what my 'trendency' is (yeah I just made up a word), but it's so much more interesting when it intersects with another real life human being with trendencies of her own. I'm feeling really good about my own participation in this duet; it's been straight up truthful and giving, and that's about all I can ask of myself. I do have the tape loop that says, I'm such and such a 'commitment phobe' or 'player' or other derogatory label, and it's not too hard to frame my interactions with that filter. But it's just not true here, and this interaction has been a positive for both of us. Que mas quieres? What more do you want.
So I'm all set to leave town, could be as early as tomorrow, but then again, now that I've felt the other side of the coin, it's awfully sweet to maybe stick around another day or two or three? Still on that moment to moment balancing act, but it feels different now, knowing that this connection is real and from the heart, it becomes cleaner and easier to make decisions.
The thing I'm feeling at the moment is huge respect for my friend M. To portray her simply as someone with a self destructive streak, which I did in the preceding post, doesn't do any kind of justice to her depth of character. She reads Krishnamurti, she talked about Eckhard Tolle's book, she's a thinker and a feeler and a 'woman of valor' as the Jews like to say. And I have been so blessed to get to share even a small part of the journey with her. (heart is happy)
So I did some errands until 1pm, the errands included dropping off my laundry at the Chinese family that has a little laundry business, stopping by the bookstore for some road reading, in this case a book by Elmore Leonard, and one by Herman Hesse. (from the ridiculous to the sublime perhaps?) And then I stopped by M's place to see if she was awake yet? We had said goodnight on less than good terms, and I wanted to reconnect and eventually initiate the 'farewell' conversation.
Knock knock.... I see the window blind move as she checked to see who was there, and then the door opened. She was still sleeping, needed some more rest, which was what I expected. She was real happy to see me, wasn't sure if I were mad at her, so we snuggled a bit while 'Law and Order SVU' played softly on her TV set. She's funny like that, tends to fall asleep with the TV on, and will flip it on in the middle of the night if she wakes up. (not unlike yours truly). She likes to have the English Language stuff on as a way to improve her understanding and command.
Without going into detail, (yeah, I'm honest, but I'll leave some things private), we ended up hanging out for about 3 hours, during which we talked, connected and shared some of the kind of memorable time that makes life so incredibly sweet. There were some tears, but mostly just sweetness and understanding, and phenomenal 'sharing' and I'm feeling incredibly grateful at the moment, looking over at her now on the next computer, checking her email, which she gets to about once a week.
It's like the other side of the coin. I kind of know what my 'trendency' is (yeah I just made up a word), but it's so much more interesting when it intersects with another real life human being with trendencies of her own. I'm feeling really good about my own participation in this duet; it's been straight up truthful and giving, and that's about all I can ask of myself. I do have the tape loop that says, I'm such and such a 'commitment phobe' or 'player' or other derogatory label, and it's not too hard to frame my interactions with that filter. But it's just not true here, and this interaction has been a positive for both of us. Que mas quieres? What more do you want.
So I'm all set to leave town, could be as early as tomorrow, but then again, now that I've felt the other side of the coin, it's awfully sweet to maybe stick around another day or two or three? Still on that moment to moment balancing act, but it feels different now, knowing that this connection is real and from the heart, it becomes cleaner and easier to make decisions.
The thing I'm feeling at the moment is huge respect for my friend M. To portray her simply as someone with a self destructive streak, which I did in the preceding post, doesn't do any kind of justice to her depth of character. She reads Krishnamurti, she talked about Eckhard Tolle's book, she's a thinker and a feeler and a 'woman of valor' as the Jews like to say. And I have been so blessed to get to share even a small part of the journey with her. (heart is happy)
Cuando llegare', cuando llegare' When will I arrive?
That's the hook from Manu Choy's ultra cool gypsy tune called 'El desaparecido' (The disapperaing one) a three chord minor-key groove about the guy who flies in and flies out, you can't really get a handle on where he'll turn up next. It's running in my head this fine Sunday morning, as I find myself preparing to pack it up and head to the east, into Laos. I've said all along that this trip is a day to day proposition, and I got the inkling yesterday that it's time to hit it.
I sense a difficult conversation later in the day as I give M the news, and yeah, it gets complicated once you have connected in a real way. Heart strings go out, vulnerability increases, tears and sadness find their way into the equation, and there's a kind of special pain that is reserved for these type of partings. (I know about this stuff)
Llevo en el cuerpo un dolor que no me deja respirar
Llevo en el alma una condena que siempre me echa a caminar
I carry in my body a pain that doesn't let me breathe
I carry in my soul a condemnation that always throws me back on the road
Cuando llegare' When will I arrive?
Yesterday was a tough day, not enough sleep, as happens when you're waiting for your girlfriend to finish her shift and you don't get to bed until 3:30-4:00am, and the city noise wakes you up by 8. The day gets kind of foggy and altered, and there is a sense that 'this is not for me', not the late nights, not watching her do her flirting with the customers thing (all appropriate, but not that pleasant to observe). And there is a self-destructive piece of it, that 'bad girl' thing that smokes and drinks, and that ain't me either. Hard to watch someone you care about have that urge.
I remember one letter to Dear Abby where some girl was in love with her boyfriend, but the boyfriend kept saying he wasn't good enough for her. How could she convince him that he was? Abby's advice seemed pretty solid. If he says he's not good enough, take him at his word.
M is a smart, hard working, beautiful, lovely woman, with an unfortunate self-destructive streak. I'm sure she's got her reasons. She was the youngest daughter and part of her responsibilities as a child was to buy her mom's whiskey and sometimes light her cigarettes, as if she were being primed for a life of substance issues. She's got 5 older sisters, all of whom are married, none of whom smoke, and she's estranged from the majority of them. Most are much older than her, a different generation, and oh, my heart goes out to this person, she's in a tough situation and I wish I could help.
But I can't.
Last night, we left the bar and I was kind of bumming out, upset about a few things that happened in there.... minor stuff, but being tired probably didn't help my perspective. I had a beer and paid for it and added a nice tip, and she didn't say thanks... If it were any other customer, she'd have been really grateful, but since it was me, she wasn't really focused, so she went off without any word of acknowledgement. to go smile for some other customer, likely. After I played a set on bass, I stumbled coming back through the bar, (the floor is uneven), and she said,
'You walk like you're drunk' (something she would of course never say to another customer). It was likely banter on her part, but I wasn't really in the mood, and I said, 'Please say nice things to me'. Like I said, minor stuff, and the only reason I'm writing it down is to try and be accurate.
On the way home, she said, 'what's wrong?' and when I brought up those things, she obviously didn't want to hear it after working a 10 hour shift, (can't blame her), so I got that button pushed as well.... the one that gets stung if I try to communicate something to someone who isn't open to it. So we had one of those, 'look if you don't want me to come over, I go to my place' moments on the street. I said, let's talk. She said, OK come on, I want to drink. She had probably had a couple or three beers during her shift, and about the last thing I wanted to do was be in another alcohol environment. So that was a convenient place to part ways, she headed to the bar, I headed to my room.
Now it's sunday, her day to catch up on sleep and get some stuff done that is hard to do during the work week. Hopefully we'll hook up later and have a good talk, one that will likely be the farewell conversation. I'm sad about it, but resigned too, because even though there is a strong physical connection, and even though I have a lot of feeling for her, a love for her, some gulfs aren't meant to be crossed at certain times, and I think we came up to it last night.
There is a gecko outside the window, haning out at my eye level, hanging on to the post of the place I'm writing from, just sitting there taking it all in. And then poof, he's gone in a flurry. Disappeared.
I've got a familiar pain in my soul, and I think there'll be some crying later. And it's OK, part of the plan. Much gratitude for this connection and this chapter....
Cuando llegare' ?
I sense a difficult conversation later in the day as I give M the news, and yeah, it gets complicated once you have connected in a real way. Heart strings go out, vulnerability increases, tears and sadness find their way into the equation, and there's a kind of special pain that is reserved for these type of partings. (I know about this stuff)
Llevo en el cuerpo un dolor que no me deja respirar
Llevo en el alma una condena que siempre me echa a caminar
I carry in my body a pain that doesn't let me breathe
I carry in my soul a condemnation that always throws me back on the road
Cuando llegare' When will I arrive?
Yesterday was a tough day, not enough sleep, as happens when you're waiting for your girlfriend to finish her shift and you don't get to bed until 3:30-4:00am, and the city noise wakes you up by 8. The day gets kind of foggy and altered, and there is a sense that 'this is not for me', not the late nights, not watching her do her flirting with the customers thing (all appropriate, but not that pleasant to observe). And there is a self-destructive piece of it, that 'bad girl' thing that smokes and drinks, and that ain't me either. Hard to watch someone you care about have that urge.
I remember one letter to Dear Abby where some girl was in love with her boyfriend, but the boyfriend kept saying he wasn't good enough for her. How could she convince him that he was? Abby's advice seemed pretty solid. If he says he's not good enough, take him at his word.
M is a smart, hard working, beautiful, lovely woman, with an unfortunate self-destructive streak. I'm sure she's got her reasons. She was the youngest daughter and part of her responsibilities as a child was to buy her mom's whiskey and sometimes light her cigarettes, as if she were being primed for a life of substance issues. She's got 5 older sisters, all of whom are married, none of whom smoke, and she's estranged from the majority of them. Most are much older than her, a different generation, and oh, my heart goes out to this person, she's in a tough situation and I wish I could help.
But I can't.
Last night, we left the bar and I was kind of bumming out, upset about a few things that happened in there.... minor stuff, but being tired probably didn't help my perspective. I had a beer and paid for it and added a nice tip, and she didn't say thanks... If it were any other customer, she'd have been really grateful, but since it was me, she wasn't really focused, so she went off without any word of acknowledgement. to go smile for some other customer, likely. After I played a set on bass, I stumbled coming back through the bar, (the floor is uneven), and she said,
'You walk like you're drunk' (something she would of course never say to another customer). It was likely banter on her part, but I wasn't really in the mood, and I said, 'Please say nice things to me'. Like I said, minor stuff, and the only reason I'm writing it down is to try and be accurate.
On the way home, she said, 'what's wrong?' and when I brought up those things, she obviously didn't want to hear it after working a 10 hour shift, (can't blame her), so I got that button pushed as well.... the one that gets stung if I try to communicate something to someone who isn't open to it. So we had one of those, 'look if you don't want me to come over, I go to my place' moments on the street. I said, let's talk. She said, OK come on, I want to drink. She had probably had a couple or three beers during her shift, and about the last thing I wanted to do was be in another alcohol environment. So that was a convenient place to part ways, she headed to the bar, I headed to my room.
Now it's sunday, her day to catch up on sleep and get some stuff done that is hard to do during the work week. Hopefully we'll hook up later and have a good talk, one that will likely be the farewell conversation. I'm sad about it, but resigned too, because even though there is a strong physical connection, and even though I have a lot of feeling for her, a love for her, some gulfs aren't meant to be crossed at certain times, and I think we came up to it last night.
There is a gecko outside the window, haning out at my eye level, hanging on to the post of the place I'm writing from, just sitting there taking it all in. And then poof, he's gone in a flurry. Disappeared.
I've got a familiar pain in my soul, and I think there'll be some crying later. And it's OK, part of the plan. Much gratitude for this connection and this chapter....
Cuando llegare' ?
Best Crossword Quote Ever....
I've been reading David Sedaris' "Me Talk Pretty One Day", and one of his short pieces in the book is about the NY Times Crossword Puzzle. Here's how it begins:
"When asked, 'What do we need to learn this for?' any highschool teacher can confidently answer that, regardless of the subject, the knowledge will come in handy once the student hits middle age and starts working crossword puzzles in order to stave off the terrible loneliness"
That made me laugh out loud, and yes, the shoe fits, even down to the part where I would question the teachers back in highschool in that exact way. Matter of fact, that question prompted the end of my interest in math, because in 11th grade, when I asked Dr Woroboff (AKA the Boff) why we were learning a particular thing, he replied,
'Richard, don't you realize that we learn math so that we can learn more math'.
In my mind, I replied, 'Adios, Boff'. After that, I never took math seriously again, although to be fair, I never took it seriously before either.
"When asked, 'What do we need to learn this for?' any highschool teacher can confidently answer that, regardless of the subject, the knowledge will come in handy once the student hits middle age and starts working crossword puzzles in order to stave off the terrible loneliness"
That made me laugh out loud, and yes, the shoe fits, even down to the part where I would question the teachers back in highschool in that exact way. Matter of fact, that question prompted the end of my interest in math, because in 11th grade, when I asked Dr Woroboff (AKA the Boff) why we were learning a particular thing, he replied,
'Richard, don't you realize that we learn math so that we can learn more math'.
In my mind, I replied, 'Adios, Boff'. After that, I never took math seriously again, although to be fair, I never took it seriously before either.
Not sleeping enough...(thai-erd)
I guess one of the things that happens when you're dating a woman who works until 2am, and then needs to go out for some after-work chow, is that sleep starts taking a back seat, and no, I'm not complaining. I've been hanging at M's bar for a few hours most nights, usually playing some music at some point, and I've been getting a bit of a following among the regulars. My skill-set fits in quite nicely in a primarily expat bar, and since the focus is often on jamming with others, it's right up my alley.
Couple nights ago was THE BEST night of music there so far, as a French guitarist named Daniel showed up with serious Django Reinhart type chops, but there was no one who could quite keep up with him (except me, natch), so we ended up playing an incredibly fun set of Le Hot Club type jazz, in which he freakin RULED on lead guitar while I held down the rhythm. I said, just show me the progression and I'll play it back for you, so he had a bunch of great stuff to share, some of which I was familiar with, the rest of which I could pick up quickly enough to let him rip it up. It was a blast to have this kind of music going instead of the standard fare of Credence Clearwater, Eagles, Beatles etc, all of which is great, but this was way up there in terms of swing and sophistication, and the audience loved it. For me, it was a cross between a guitar lesson and a performance, so what's better than that. One of the tunes was called Bossa Dorado, after some great player named Dorado something or other, and I'm gonna Youtube it and put it in the reportoire. A super sweet minor bossa, what a tune.
When I'm leading a set, I'll throw in anything from 'int She Sweet'to 'Up on Cripple Creek' to 'You don't know me' to 'Dream' to an original or two... just keep it moving and see what resonates. The owner of the bar is this really sweet Thai woman named Taow. (think of the sound a cat makes when it wants to come in), and she loves the song Dream, so every time I do it, she sings 'I love you so' (and I add, 'that I could cry' etc. I always give her the mic at that point and she sings it and walks away, and I will do some shtick about, 'wait a minute, why do you say, 'I love you so' and then walk away... it's just like a bunch of my relationships'. It always gets a laugh, and that's kind of the point.... that the music is for having fun, not for demonstrating how wonderful the musicians are (insert false modesty here).... cuz actually I think it is wonderful to stop the song in the middle, relate to the audience, let them know that it's a live event, rather than karaoke, and I've been plying that brand of music for decades now. It ain't about the sheen, it's about the being in the moment. (But don't suck as a musician, if you want to try it like that, I'm just sayin')
Yesterday I added a new piece of goodness to the Chiang Mai experience, which is that I asked for, and found a nice park in which to get on the ground and stretch, work out, do yoga etc. There is precious little green space in the city, and it was tremendous to sit under a tree, get a workout in, look around me to see a bunch of people doing the same thing, a group of guys playing soccer, a fellow sparring for an upcoming Thai Boxing match, a few women with hula hoops, some poeple jogging around the little pond. It's a small park, as these things go, but I'm thinking I'm gonna go there on a daily basis, as I've been missing that oportunity to be outdoors and on the ground.
On the way back from working out, I passed by a plaza where dozens and dozens of street food vendors were set up to feed a mostly Thai clientele, with some Farang thrown in. I was 1 for 3 in my choices, kind of like the way I used to bat when I was in high school. O for 1, O for 2, 1 for 3... I can live with that. First try was some grilled squid. I chose some meatier pieces as opposed to the woman who went before me, and when I bit into them... oops, octopus, really thick and chewy, the kind of thing you could choke to death on. couldn't do it, hey here's some little chicken meat grilling on skewers, looks good, I flash 3 fingers and she grabs them, puts them in a plastic bag, and I'm on my way. Damn, they're gizzards, uh, no can do. I'm down to 40 Baht cause I didn't bring my wallet... one last chance for a meal. I go by this stand, and the young woman says 'Khao Soi', which is one of the delicacies of northern Thailand, a smoky, earthy curry dish with noodles and chicken. I see the big pot cooking, and there are the dreaded 'congealed pigs blood cubes' that I had tried up in the mountains. I ask, Khao soi?, and she says, 'no, this one is Khao Soi' and voila, no congealed pigs blood. I ordered a bowl, paid a buck and had a lovely meal, sitting on the plaza, adding some cabbage, and soybean sprouts and pieces of string bean to the curry, which is how they do it here. Delicious, and just in the nick of time... 'Khao soi'rhymes with Cowboy, and I got a feeling that rhyme will make it into a song somewhere down the line.
M has been spending nights with me at my room at the Guest House, not what I expected, but I'm enjoying the 'company'. The first night that she spent there, we went downstairs in the morning, and I sensed some uptightness from the women who work the desk, who had formerly been very fun and friendly. It was as if they thought, 'Oh great, another western dude whoring around Chiang Mai'. I'm sure the assumption was that it was a 'paying gig' on M's part. I was a bit uncomfortable with it, thought about changing Guest houses to a place where you could come and go without passing the desk, but I decided to just let it be and see what would happen. Now that we've been hanging out for more time, that situation has resolved itself and the smiles have returned. I'm sure that there are layers of nuance which I'm not privy to, but it's feeling good there, and that makes me happy. I like to see smiles from people when I walk by.
I see that I'm on a one month tourist visa, which will require me to leave the country for a day in order to get another month to be here. It's a juggling act that the farang have to do, so that's coming up within about 13 days. Everything is still day to day, moment to moment, but I realize that having a lovely person to connect with is a huge draw for me at this point. I mean sure, I could go off and have all kinds of road experience (which I likely will), but is Glauber driven by his physical/sexual desires? Uh yeah, that's right, he is, so here he is. (Why that's written in third person, I don't know) Oh yeah, that's right, observation mode...
Hey I love hearing from any and all of you who care to write. My email is richglauber@yahoo.com if anyone wants to share... Out....
Couple nights ago was THE BEST night of music there so far, as a French guitarist named Daniel showed up with serious Django Reinhart type chops, but there was no one who could quite keep up with him (except me, natch), so we ended up playing an incredibly fun set of Le Hot Club type jazz, in which he freakin RULED on lead guitar while I held down the rhythm. I said, just show me the progression and I'll play it back for you, so he had a bunch of great stuff to share, some of which I was familiar with, the rest of which I could pick up quickly enough to let him rip it up. It was a blast to have this kind of music going instead of the standard fare of Credence Clearwater, Eagles, Beatles etc, all of which is great, but this was way up there in terms of swing and sophistication, and the audience loved it. For me, it was a cross between a guitar lesson and a performance, so what's better than that. One of the tunes was called Bossa Dorado, after some great player named Dorado something or other, and I'm gonna Youtube it and put it in the reportoire. A super sweet minor bossa, what a tune.
When I'm leading a set, I'll throw in anything from 'int She Sweet'to 'Up on Cripple Creek' to 'You don't know me' to 'Dream' to an original or two... just keep it moving and see what resonates. The owner of the bar is this really sweet Thai woman named Taow. (think of the sound a cat makes when it wants to come in), and she loves the song Dream, so every time I do it, she sings 'I love you so' (and I add, 'that I could cry' etc. I always give her the mic at that point and she sings it and walks away, and I will do some shtick about, 'wait a minute, why do you say, 'I love you so' and then walk away... it's just like a bunch of my relationships'. It always gets a laugh, and that's kind of the point.... that the music is for having fun, not for demonstrating how wonderful the musicians are (insert false modesty here).... cuz actually I think it is wonderful to stop the song in the middle, relate to the audience, let them know that it's a live event, rather than karaoke, and I've been plying that brand of music for decades now. It ain't about the sheen, it's about the being in the moment. (But don't suck as a musician, if you want to try it like that, I'm just sayin')
Yesterday I added a new piece of goodness to the Chiang Mai experience, which is that I asked for, and found a nice park in which to get on the ground and stretch, work out, do yoga etc. There is precious little green space in the city, and it was tremendous to sit under a tree, get a workout in, look around me to see a bunch of people doing the same thing, a group of guys playing soccer, a fellow sparring for an upcoming Thai Boxing match, a few women with hula hoops, some poeple jogging around the little pond. It's a small park, as these things go, but I'm thinking I'm gonna go there on a daily basis, as I've been missing that oportunity to be outdoors and on the ground.
On the way back from working out, I passed by a plaza where dozens and dozens of street food vendors were set up to feed a mostly Thai clientele, with some Farang thrown in. I was 1 for 3 in my choices, kind of like the way I used to bat when I was in high school. O for 1, O for 2, 1 for 3... I can live with that. First try was some grilled squid. I chose some meatier pieces as opposed to the woman who went before me, and when I bit into them... oops, octopus, really thick and chewy, the kind of thing you could choke to death on. couldn't do it, hey here's some little chicken meat grilling on skewers, looks good, I flash 3 fingers and she grabs them, puts them in a plastic bag, and I'm on my way. Damn, they're gizzards, uh, no can do. I'm down to 40 Baht cause I didn't bring my wallet... one last chance for a meal. I go by this stand, and the young woman says 'Khao Soi', which is one of the delicacies of northern Thailand, a smoky, earthy curry dish with noodles and chicken. I see the big pot cooking, and there are the dreaded 'congealed pigs blood cubes' that I had tried up in the mountains. I ask, Khao soi?, and she says, 'no, this one is Khao Soi' and voila, no congealed pigs blood. I ordered a bowl, paid a buck and had a lovely meal, sitting on the plaza, adding some cabbage, and soybean sprouts and pieces of string bean to the curry, which is how they do it here. Delicious, and just in the nick of time... 'Khao soi'rhymes with Cowboy, and I got a feeling that rhyme will make it into a song somewhere down the line.
M has been spending nights with me at my room at the Guest House, not what I expected, but I'm enjoying the 'company'. The first night that she spent there, we went downstairs in the morning, and I sensed some uptightness from the women who work the desk, who had formerly been very fun and friendly. It was as if they thought, 'Oh great, another western dude whoring around Chiang Mai'. I'm sure the assumption was that it was a 'paying gig' on M's part. I was a bit uncomfortable with it, thought about changing Guest houses to a place where you could come and go without passing the desk, but I decided to just let it be and see what would happen. Now that we've been hanging out for more time, that situation has resolved itself and the smiles have returned. I'm sure that there are layers of nuance which I'm not privy to, but it's feeling good there, and that makes me happy. I like to see smiles from people when I walk by.
I see that I'm on a one month tourist visa, which will require me to leave the country for a day in order to get another month to be here. It's a juggling act that the farang have to do, so that's coming up within about 13 days. Everything is still day to day, moment to moment, but I realize that having a lovely person to connect with is a huge draw for me at this point. I mean sure, I could go off and have all kinds of road experience (which I likely will), but is Glauber driven by his physical/sexual desires? Uh yeah, that's right, he is, so here he is. (Why that's written in third person, I don't know) Oh yeah, that's right, observation mode...
Hey I love hearing from any and all of you who care to write. My email is richglauber@yahoo.com if anyone wants to share... Out....
Wat Mi Wuri
On the van ride back from Pai, I got stuck in the rear seat, which I heard was the worst place to be as far as motion sickness goes. I was next to a barefoot, 23 year-old Brit, named Yusef, who came by his name thanks to a marriage between and Iranian father and British mother. Apparently his dad was an architect who fled the country like so many others during the Iranian revolution in 1979, and ended up in London, where he met and married a 21 year old English lass. He being 35 at the time, and an Iranian to boot, well it didn't go over well with the inlaws. But the marriage lasted, prospered and produced three sons, one of whom was sitting beside me on the twisty, nauseating ride down the mountain.
At first, dude was reading a book 'The Grapes of Wrath', but within a few minutes he started getting a little 'green around the gills', as the sailors like to say, and he put the book down and started looking miserable. I reach into my pack and grab a plastic bag that I had there, just in case, and I let him know that it's available should it come to that. He had his head in his hands and I figured it was only a matter of time.
Pretty soon he was half asleep and leaning real hard against me, which started driving me incresingly batshit, as I'm not that big on physical contact from strangers anyway, and this kid is using me as some kind of pillow/headboard. After about fifteen minutes of clenching my teeth, I finally say, 'Dude, could you lean against the van instead of against me' He asks if we could change places and that way he could lean against the backpacks which were stacked up to our right in the back of the rig. Well it's not easy to stand up and move around during the numerous hairpin turns, but we manage to make the switch, and he immediately conks out against the luggage.
Trouble is, now his ass is up into me, and it's almost worse than before, I was getting pissed off. In my mind, I'm formulating all these speeches about, 'Look man, you've got your seat, stay the fuck awake and stop leaning all over me' 'I don't give a fuck if you pulled an all-nighter last night, wake the fuck up and keep to your space!'. I was reminded of the rage I felt on the Camino if the guy in the bunk above me was snoring loud, I'd go nuts, say stuff like, 'I'm gonna fucking kill you, shut the fuck up! Yeah I said it out loud on that trip. This time, it's just rolling around in my head. And yeah, I did think of the Buddhist idea of watching my thoughts rather than being imprisoned by them. Guess I've got a way to go with that, when someone's ass is pressing unwanted into my side.
Eventually the road straightened out and we hit the break spot where we stop for a coffee or snack. I was real glad to get out of the van, and now here comes the kid to sit next to me, and he turns out to be a sweetheart, hip hop artist, just in country from Nepal where he was teaching English, on his way back to Chiang Mai to go to a reggae fest. We start talking about rapping and he's talking about returning to England to work on some music stuff, etc etc. Good conversation...
When the trip resumes, all is friendly, he stays awake and holds his space, and now a guy a couple of rows in front of us, yells 'Stop' to the driver. His girlfriend had just yakked all over herself, so the driver pulls over and they get out to clean off with some napkins and a bottle of water. I turn to my hip hop buddy, and say, 'OK dude, flow, whatcha got' and he launches into a little improv rap about chucking the cookies in the van, and I could see that he had some skills. Just watching his approach triggered something in me, he didn't exactly rhyme, but more used the sounds to trigger similar sounds and tell the story, 'pure creation' he called it. I got the first inkling that it would be fun to use this little vignette as a starting point for a first rap, and I made a foray into my notebook last night. It's lame, but ya gotta start somewhere right...
Wat mi wuri, bus was in a hurry
swerve on the curve til the chick got sick
Must happen daily, poor Israeli
Lost her falaffel, gotta feel awful
Yak on the back pack, get the girl a tic tac
Yes I know it sucks, but I'll get Jewish and spewish in there somehow... The point is, I think it could be a freeing way to approach writing, and I got the inspiration from a guy I wanted to annihilate thirty minutes before... Nice kid, we shared a tuk tuk (taxi) into town from the station and had a nice little connection. One more little road vignette, one more example of the mind doing it's thing and then the next thing... and the next thing...
At first, dude was reading a book 'The Grapes of Wrath', but within a few minutes he started getting a little 'green around the gills', as the sailors like to say, and he put the book down and started looking miserable. I reach into my pack and grab a plastic bag that I had there, just in case, and I let him know that it's available should it come to that. He had his head in his hands and I figured it was only a matter of time.
Pretty soon he was half asleep and leaning real hard against me, which started driving me incresingly batshit, as I'm not that big on physical contact from strangers anyway, and this kid is using me as some kind of pillow/headboard. After about fifteen minutes of clenching my teeth, I finally say, 'Dude, could you lean against the van instead of against me' He asks if we could change places and that way he could lean against the backpacks which were stacked up to our right in the back of the rig. Well it's not easy to stand up and move around during the numerous hairpin turns, but we manage to make the switch, and he immediately conks out against the luggage.
Trouble is, now his ass is up into me, and it's almost worse than before, I was getting pissed off. In my mind, I'm formulating all these speeches about, 'Look man, you've got your seat, stay the fuck awake and stop leaning all over me' 'I don't give a fuck if you pulled an all-nighter last night, wake the fuck up and keep to your space!'. I was reminded of the rage I felt on the Camino if the guy in the bunk above me was snoring loud, I'd go nuts, say stuff like, 'I'm gonna fucking kill you, shut the fuck up! Yeah I said it out loud on that trip. This time, it's just rolling around in my head. And yeah, I did think of the Buddhist idea of watching my thoughts rather than being imprisoned by them. Guess I've got a way to go with that, when someone's ass is pressing unwanted into my side.
Eventually the road straightened out and we hit the break spot where we stop for a coffee or snack. I was real glad to get out of the van, and now here comes the kid to sit next to me, and he turns out to be a sweetheart, hip hop artist, just in country from Nepal where he was teaching English, on his way back to Chiang Mai to go to a reggae fest. We start talking about rapping and he's talking about returning to England to work on some music stuff, etc etc. Good conversation...
When the trip resumes, all is friendly, he stays awake and holds his space, and now a guy a couple of rows in front of us, yells 'Stop' to the driver. His girlfriend had just yakked all over herself, so the driver pulls over and they get out to clean off with some napkins and a bottle of water. I turn to my hip hop buddy, and say, 'OK dude, flow, whatcha got' and he launches into a little improv rap about chucking the cookies in the van, and I could see that he had some skills. Just watching his approach triggered something in me, he didn't exactly rhyme, but more used the sounds to trigger similar sounds and tell the story, 'pure creation' he called it. I got the first inkling that it would be fun to use this little vignette as a starting point for a first rap, and I made a foray into my notebook last night. It's lame, but ya gotta start somewhere right...
Wat mi wuri, bus was in a hurry
swerve on the curve til the chick got sick
Must happen daily, poor Israeli
Lost her falaffel, gotta feel awful
Yak on the back pack, get the girl a tic tac
Yes I know it sucks, but I'll get Jewish and spewish in there somehow... The point is, I think it could be a freeing way to approach writing, and I got the inspiration from a guy I wanted to annihilate thirty minutes before... Nice kid, we shared a tuk tuk (taxi) into town from the station and had a nice little connection. One more little road vignette, one more example of the mind doing it's thing and then the next thing... and the next thing...
To Thine Own Self...
What if we could really be true to our nature. What a huge challenge that would be, in this ever so compromised world of friends, lovers, expectations, convention, religion, society, parents, recriminations, police, media, advertising and I could go on ad infinitum. I think of Rene DesCartes who tried (as best as I can recall from my Intro to Philosophy Class a million years ago) to eliminate all distractions and arrive at an irrefutable truth. Cogito Ergo Sum, 'I think, therefore I am'. His unquestionable truth was that he was thinking. My truth at the moment, is that I'm compromised. Hmmmm interesting word, let's look it up.
Aside from the commonly understood meaning of making concessions to reach an accord, there's also this. 'transitive verb: expose somebody or something to danger: to expose somebody or something to danger or disgrace'
Yep, that's the one.... I've got this feeling that I'm in danger of being disgraced. Both are there, danger and disgrace.
But why, Rich? You're on the 'trip of a lifetime' (allegedly), having all these experiences blah blah blah. What could be disgraceful or dangerous about living a life that you choose? Isn't that the goal after all? To thine own self be true? Haven't you referred to that Shakespearean line as the truest description of your philosophy?
Uh yes I have. The feeling of foreboding I get is when I find myself wanting to censor my thoughts before committing them to the blog. I've got a million things going on in my head that prevent me from being totally up front about my experience. If I say that I'm falling for this woman, here come the red flags. 'Don't be stupid, Rich Are you insane?' If I think about sticking around Chiang Mai to see where it goes, 'I thought you were going to travel around SE Asia, put some miles on, see a lot of cultures, share your experiences with us'. Besides, you know your history with women. (cue the 'shame music') You know how you are, you know what you do, Who do you think you're fooling?
All of the voices are in there and they start to circle the drain. 'I sink, therefore I am?'
Gee where did this headache spring up from? I feel it starting above my neck.
OK I know, I need God, or is it Jesus, or maybe Kabbala, how bout the Buddha? Maybe a clean stream of prana to cleanse and rujuvenate the spirit, rather than get into the sinkhole of swirling thoughts.
I go back to that Buddha conversation from a few days ago with the Turkish guy in Pai. His point was that it's about observing the thoughts, not willing them in a certain direction, just observing them and separating from their control. That approach is ringing true at the moment. I watch them, watch my reactions to the mind trip, then keep going inside to feel what I'm feeling, sense what I'm sensing. That's been my mantra on this camino. I literally do not know from one day to the next where I will lay my head that night. All I know is that I will check inside and take my cues from there.
Something funny just happened behind me. This young guy with a French accent just said something about Ram Dass, (spiritual teacher who popularized the phrase 'Be Here Now') which dovetails exactly with the way I'm thinking at this moment. Wow, what a coincidence. I turned around to say something, and realized he was talking about his upcoming Thai boxing match tomorrow and he said 'Roundhouse' as in roundhouse kick to a guy's head. I see God is having a laugh at my expense.... Not laughing at me, laughing with me. Good one, creator!
And now it's a new moment, brain has moved on from shame and recrimination. Moment to moment, que mas quieres? (what more do you want?) The sun is shining, I'm safe and alive. Breath in, breath out Ommmm
Aside from the commonly understood meaning of making concessions to reach an accord, there's also this. 'transitive verb: expose somebody or something to danger: to expose somebody or something to danger or disgrace'
Yep, that's the one.... I've got this feeling that I'm in danger of being disgraced. Both are there, danger and disgrace.
But why, Rich? You're on the 'trip of a lifetime' (allegedly), having all these experiences blah blah blah. What could be disgraceful or dangerous about living a life that you choose? Isn't that the goal after all? To thine own self be true? Haven't you referred to that Shakespearean line as the truest description of your philosophy?
Uh yes I have. The feeling of foreboding I get is when I find myself wanting to censor my thoughts before committing them to the blog. I've got a million things going on in my head that prevent me from being totally up front about my experience. If I say that I'm falling for this woman, here come the red flags. 'Don't be stupid, Rich Are you insane?' If I think about sticking around Chiang Mai to see where it goes, 'I thought you were going to travel around SE Asia, put some miles on, see a lot of cultures, share your experiences with us'. Besides, you know your history with women. (cue the 'shame music') You know how you are, you know what you do, Who do you think you're fooling?
All of the voices are in there and they start to circle the drain. 'I sink, therefore I am?'
Gee where did this headache spring up from? I feel it starting above my neck.
OK I know, I need God, or is it Jesus, or maybe Kabbala, how bout the Buddha? Maybe a clean stream of prana to cleanse and rujuvenate the spirit, rather than get into the sinkhole of swirling thoughts.
I go back to that Buddha conversation from a few days ago with the Turkish guy in Pai. His point was that it's about observing the thoughts, not willing them in a certain direction, just observing them and separating from their control. That approach is ringing true at the moment. I watch them, watch my reactions to the mind trip, then keep going inside to feel what I'm feeling, sense what I'm sensing. That's been my mantra on this camino. I literally do not know from one day to the next where I will lay my head that night. All I know is that I will check inside and take my cues from there.
Something funny just happened behind me. This young guy with a French accent just said something about Ram Dass, (spiritual teacher who popularized the phrase 'Be Here Now') which dovetails exactly with the way I'm thinking at this moment. Wow, what a coincidence. I turned around to say something, and realized he was talking about his upcoming Thai boxing match tomorrow and he said 'Roundhouse' as in roundhouse kick to a guy's head. I see God is having a laugh at my expense.... Not laughing at me, laughing with me. Good one, creator!
And now it's a new moment, brain has moved on from shame and recrimination. Moment to moment, que mas quieres? (what more do you want?) The sun is shining, I'm safe and alive. Breath in, breath out Ommmm
No opium, thanks.... But i could go for a latte
Well I finally found where to get the good opium, and it came as a surprise. I got up early, did some yoga by the river, drank a coffee, and then took off on a motorcycle ride around the hills. (We biker dudes have to do that, you see, it's part of the contract). I took a nice long loop, then decided to see how high up I could get as I followed a sign to a waterfall to the north of Pai.
Went up through several villages, up and up, banana trees on the side of the road, morning sun warming me and the land. The higher I got (higher in elevation, people), the more I was going 'wow'. I must have said it thirty times, it was just so cool to be tooling around in places I wouldn't get to on foot. Now I'm past the last signs, no more snack places or roadside stands and still the road is rising. Oh there's one more sign.... for a reiki mater class.... perfect.
OK Now there are no more signs as I make it up to the last village before the waterfall. This is the poor one that doesn't get any tourists. a woman was leading some cattle, couldn't tell what kind exactly, water buffalo?, and she yanks them to the side of the road and motions 'do I have a cigarette?' (or so I thought). I shake my head, no. Up ahead are few women walking in the road, and each of them makes the same sign to me. first it's 'come here' (Italian style, hand going from up to down), then the sign of smoking. It was too much of a coincidence that they all wanted a smoke, so I slowed down and raised my shoulders as if to ask, 'what's up?' She smiles and says 'Opia' Aha, they were all offering opia to the white man on the scooter.
"Gee, I'd love to, but I have a meeting at 10:30, and I've got to get my reports finished before then.... some other time" (I thought to myself). What a trip! Part of me would like to go back up there sometime and do some 'research', but this wasn't the day for it, as I'm leaving Pai in a few hours, and I need to pack and return the scooter, and besides I've never tried opium, so I'd likely run the bike into a ditch.... or start driving on the right and get into a head on crash, who knows? But wow, I'm in the golden triangle, and I got a glimpse into the history of the opium trade which has nourished this part of the world for centuries. the women did seem a little buzzed, but what do I know?
I wonder if there's anything about this in the Lonely Planet, opium edition....
a final note from Pai.... Last night I was on the street listening again to that incredible German guitarist named Thomas Porrman, when a woman friend of his passes by, and starts doing a silly ragamuffin dance barefoot in the street. she's a beauty, dressed in flowing clothes (which she made herself, I found out). then she starts dancing for real, whirling, leaping, totally unafraid, totally free. It was electric, a crowd gathered and she continued to dance, and began adding some imprmptu vocals, performance art, the likes of which I've never seen. she could sing, dance, create in the moment like a goddess. (which she was). after several minutes she looks down and her toe is bleeding, which ended her performance. People offered her some toilet paper to stop the bleeding, and she said, 'I lived in India for 4 years, I think I'll survive'. She said it with a laugh.
I had to talk to her, compliment her from my heart on being an incredible artist, and I asked if I could ask her a question. what's her name, and her country of origin? Her name is Uma, she started in Korea, spent 4 years in goa and Varanasi and has performed all over the world. She was very touched by my compliments, and we exchanged the hands to heart greeting of friends. wow, again. One of the most inspiring artists I've ever seen or heard, theatre of life.
And that's one of the things which is impressing me by being in this part of the world. You meet so many people from other countries, people who have become world citizens, working, creating, living untethered to a particular nation. I've heard some amazing stories.... the brit who smuggled gold from Hong Kong to Nepal, and hash from Nepal to Hong Kong... and spent two years in a thai prison in the 90s (they hardly feed you), the guy from NY who runs a museum in Ireland and winters in thailand, The german who lived in India and is on his way to china.... or maybe australia... It's a wider world out here, and endless fascinating...
Went up through several villages, up and up, banana trees on the side of the road, morning sun warming me and the land. The higher I got (higher in elevation, people), the more I was going 'wow'. I must have said it thirty times, it was just so cool to be tooling around in places I wouldn't get to on foot. Now I'm past the last signs, no more snack places or roadside stands and still the road is rising. Oh there's one more sign.... for a reiki mater class.... perfect.
OK Now there are no more signs as I make it up to the last village before the waterfall. This is the poor one that doesn't get any tourists. a woman was leading some cattle, couldn't tell what kind exactly, water buffalo?, and she yanks them to the side of the road and motions 'do I have a cigarette?' (or so I thought). I shake my head, no. Up ahead are few women walking in the road, and each of them makes the same sign to me. first it's 'come here' (Italian style, hand going from up to down), then the sign of smoking. It was too much of a coincidence that they all wanted a smoke, so I slowed down and raised my shoulders as if to ask, 'what's up?' She smiles and says 'Opia' Aha, they were all offering opia to the white man on the scooter.
"Gee, I'd love to, but I have a meeting at 10:30, and I've got to get my reports finished before then.... some other time" (I thought to myself). What a trip! Part of me would like to go back up there sometime and do some 'research', but this wasn't the day for it, as I'm leaving Pai in a few hours, and I need to pack and return the scooter, and besides I've never tried opium, so I'd likely run the bike into a ditch.... or start driving on the right and get into a head on crash, who knows? But wow, I'm in the golden triangle, and I got a glimpse into the history of the opium trade which has nourished this part of the world for centuries. the women did seem a little buzzed, but what do I know?
I wonder if there's anything about this in the Lonely Planet, opium edition....
a final note from Pai.... Last night I was on the street listening again to that incredible German guitarist named Thomas Porrman, when a woman friend of his passes by, and starts doing a silly ragamuffin dance barefoot in the street. she's a beauty, dressed in flowing clothes (which she made herself, I found out). then she starts dancing for real, whirling, leaping, totally unafraid, totally free. It was electric, a crowd gathered and she continued to dance, and began adding some imprmptu vocals, performance art, the likes of which I've never seen. she could sing, dance, create in the moment like a goddess. (which she was). after several minutes she looks down and her toe is bleeding, which ended her performance. People offered her some toilet paper to stop the bleeding, and she said, 'I lived in India for 4 years, I think I'll survive'. She said it with a laugh.
I had to talk to her, compliment her from my heart on being an incredible artist, and I asked if I could ask her a question. what's her name, and her country of origin? Her name is Uma, she started in Korea, spent 4 years in goa and Varanasi and has performed all over the world. She was very touched by my compliments, and we exchanged the hands to heart greeting of friends. wow, again. One of the most inspiring artists I've ever seen or heard, theatre of life.
And that's one of the things which is impressing me by being in this part of the world. You meet so many people from other countries, people who have become world citizens, working, creating, living untethered to a particular nation. I've heard some amazing stories.... the brit who smuggled gold from Hong Kong to Nepal, and hash from Nepal to Hong Kong... and spent two years in a thai prison in the 90s (they hardly feed you), the guy from NY who runs a museum in Ireland and winters in thailand, The german who lived in India and is on his way to china.... or maybe australia... It's a wider world out here, and endless fascinating...
'That guy' part deux
In our first 'that guy' episode, he about passed out on a trek in the hills north of Chiang Mai. In today's installment, our hero is motoring his way along a gorgeous and quiet paved road out of Pai. Passing elephant camps, hot springs, the wind in his hair, what views, what freedom, life is good! Wait a second, how come when I picked up the scooter it was nearly full of gas, and now, after half an hour, it's totally full? That doesn't make sense.
Oh fuck!, I misread the gauge, I'm totally on empty and 12 miles from a gas station. Did a quick turn around, hoping that 'empty' wasn't really empty, and that I'd have enough to make it back to town. Hang on, which way is back? I don't remember passing this stuff... Oh shit, what am I doing? Doubled back yet again, to make sure that the turn I made was the right one, all the while burning precious drops of my empty tank.
OK whew, at least I made it back to the main road where there is some traffic if worst comes to worst. I'm within 5 miles of ...cough cough, zzzzzz out of gas. I start pushing the bike on the side of the road, and the first bike to pass me pulls over. It's a couple of Thai teenagers, really cool cats, she with colored hair and a giant crucifix, a little Madonna, Thai style, and he with a nehru cut black shirt, a cricifix around his neck, and some pretty wide gauges in his ears. They were both gorgeous kids, and they offered to help me out, and go get a liter of gas to send me on my way.
I asked if they had time, and they were like 'yes, of course'. They take off, and I hang on the side of the road, trying to massage the cramps out of my hands. Both hands were cramping up from, I don't know, gripping too tight? and maybe motorcycles aren't for me? The kids were back within ten minutes, they poured in the fuel. They let me pay for the gas, but wouldn't accept any payment for their kindness. I asked her (she was the English speaker) if they were Christians, and she said, 'no, we're Buddhists.... this is just for fashion'. And we were on our way. He was driving, she was on the back riding side saddle, no helmets, no fear, and they proceeded to rip past everybody on the road, just zipping along the highway. Yet another 'wow' on this day...
Oh fuck!, I misread the gauge, I'm totally on empty and 12 miles from a gas station. Did a quick turn around, hoping that 'empty' wasn't really empty, and that I'd have enough to make it back to town. Hang on, which way is back? I don't remember passing this stuff... Oh shit, what am I doing? Doubled back yet again, to make sure that the turn I made was the right one, all the while burning precious drops of my empty tank.
OK whew, at least I made it back to the main road where there is some traffic if worst comes to worst. I'm within 5 miles of ...cough cough, zzzzzz out of gas. I start pushing the bike on the side of the road, and the first bike to pass me pulls over. It's a couple of Thai teenagers, really cool cats, she with colored hair and a giant crucifix, a little Madonna, Thai style, and he with a nehru cut black shirt, a cricifix around his neck, and some pretty wide gauges in his ears. They were both gorgeous kids, and they offered to help me out, and go get a liter of gas to send me on my way.
I asked if they had time, and they were like 'yes, of course'. They take off, and I hang on the side of the road, trying to massage the cramps out of my hands. Both hands were cramping up from, I don't know, gripping too tight? and maybe motorcycles aren't for me? The kids were back within ten minutes, they poured in the fuel. They let me pay for the gas, but wouldn't accept any payment for their kindness. I asked her (she was the English speaker) if they were Christians, and she said, 'no, we're Buddhists.... this is just for fashion'. And we were on our way. He was driving, she was on the back riding side saddle, no helmets, no fear, and they proceeded to rip past everybody on the road, just zipping along the highway. Yet another 'wow' on this day...
Lesson number 1 "Pay Attention" cost= $5.00
Sometimes, when I'm in a writing groove, I start looking at every day occurrances in terms of 'how would I describe this' in words. Case in point happened this very morning, and it struck me as though suffused in symbolism and deep meaning. (also a function of being in a writerly way, not to mention spending time in a Buddhist country).
I came back to the room from my coffee stop, unlocked the padlock to my door, went in, used the bathroom, then came right back out to go ahead and rent a motorcycle around the corner. Went to lock the lock.... where is the lock? It wasn't where I usually hang it, must have put it on a flat surface. Checked around, nope not there. Aha, it must be in my pocket, attached to the key. Not there either. Went back into the bathroom, not on the shelf, not near the toilet, damn, where is it?
Checked the bed, checked the floor, rechecked my pockets, rechecked the door
Re rechecked the bed, re rechecked the floor, re rechecked my pockets, re re checked the door.
This is the kind of thing that can really piss me off, especially if I'm late for something or stressed about something. But I'm the opposite of stressed and the opposite of late, not to mention I've been talking Buddhism lately, so perhaps this is some kind of object lesson? a koan of some sort? I was very calm, put my hands in prayer position and observed my mind and my surroundings. Calmly, I began searching... the pockets of my pack, above the door, under any cracks where it might have slipped, on the porch, over the porch, in the bedding, under the towel, in my toilet kit, multiple times on all of those places. Where was that little brass padlock? It was as though I had a mind cramp and threw it as far as I could.. what else could explain a disappearance like this. It's a tiny cabin, I have very limited stuff, and I searched everywhere for maybe 30-40 minutes.
Finally I went to the reception area and said, 'I have a problem'. I explained the situation to the young woman, and was overheard by an older man, who I thought might be the owner of the place, Mr Jan. He kind of chuckled at my dilemma, said, 'no problem' in broken English, and then came with me back to the cabin to have a look. We looked together for a couple of minutes, and I was miming 'arms outstretched, what the heck?' but still couldn't find it.
Mr Jan is the closest person to Mr Miyagi (from the Karate Kid movies) whom I've ever met. When I first saw him yesterday, he was watering some of the incredible garden which surrounds all of the cabins. There are winding paths, many hanging baskets, cleverly trimmed hedges, and food growing everywhere in Mr Jan's little paradise. It's extraordinarily well designed with little ponds, garden statues and a feeling of great serenity. And clearly it's a reflection of this man with the twinkle in his eye.
He said, 'wait a minute' and went back to the office to get another lock. I kept searching. He came back two minutes later and indicated that he needed to go buy one, I kept searching, and by now, I was formulating how to describe this little lesson in blog format.
I considered all types of possibilities for where the lock could have gone to. Did someone secretly pick it up to mess with my head? Not likely. The fact that I'm currently reading a book by Cristopher Moore (what a phenomenal and funny auther!), made me consider some mystical, unexplainable causes, because his work doesn't stick to a standard rational menu. Is the lock in another dimension? Did Coyote come to trick me? That kind of stuff. I was definitely delighting in the mystery, at the same time using my eyes as I rarely use them, looking intently at my surroundings, seeing things that I'd normally miss.... a bottle cap clinging to s tiny ledge, a piece of string camouflaging itself near a crack in the floor. Everything but the lock. And yeah, 'a lock'....losing a lock, how's that for symbolism? Is it about 'freedom'?
Ten minutes later Mr Jan came back with a new lock and key. He said $150 Baht ($5) which was what the price tag said. But he wasn't charging me, merely sharing the news about what he paid. I reached for my wallet and pulled out 150, and he tried to just take the 100, leaving the 50 for me. No way, I insisted, and he finally took the whole amount. I made a show about being super attentive when I tried the lock, hanging it oh so carefully on a little hook, showing him that I learned my lesson. He smiled and said 'Pay attention', then went off for the rest of his day. I felt like I was touched by something special. Makes me smile to recount it.
So with that mantra of 'pay attention' in my mind, I headed over to rent a scooter, something that was definitely making me anxious. The first time I ever got on a motorcycle, I was 19 years old and my college buddy was teaching me. He had a Honda 305, but the hand brake didn't work, so I had to use the foot brake, which was located under the kick start on the right side. I got it in gear, shifted to second, went for the brake but couldn't find it. I had to go around and under the kick start, and I was hitting it, instead of the brake. Started going faster, couldn't stop, then I froze, let the clutch out all the way, flew across the street toward some parked cars, ditched the bike, flew over the handle bars and tore myself up on the curb. Still got the scar. (not that it's a vivid memory or anything.... breathe...)
I've since ridden a tiny bit, that same bike in an open field for instance, and a couple of Vespa rides in Ibiza, so obviously, I'm a total beginner at this stuff. And yeah, nervous too, even though everyone and his dog rides these things here. So I lined up to rent a bike, yeah I paid a little extra for the insurance, yeah I took a helmet too. 90 percent of the locals ride without them, but I think I'll play it on the safe side. With the insurance, the total price for the rental came to $6. for a 24 hour period. I took it out easy, and after about 20 minutes, when my sphincter started to relax a bit, damn, this is kinda fun. I rode around for 30-40 minutes, then came back to town for some lunch, now I'll go off again on the bike and try to find the hot springs which ar about 5 miles away. Good times.... Ommmm
Oh yeah, even though I'm on a little 120cc 'rice rocket', I'm still singing 'Born to Be Wild' as I cruise around the valley. Hey, whatever works...
And oh oh yeah, I'm paying attention....
I came back to the room from my coffee stop, unlocked the padlock to my door, went in, used the bathroom, then came right back out to go ahead and rent a motorcycle around the corner. Went to lock the lock.... where is the lock? It wasn't where I usually hang it, must have put it on a flat surface. Checked around, nope not there. Aha, it must be in my pocket, attached to the key. Not there either. Went back into the bathroom, not on the shelf, not near the toilet, damn, where is it?
Checked the bed, checked the floor, rechecked my pockets, rechecked the door
Re rechecked the bed, re rechecked the floor, re rechecked my pockets, re re checked the door.
This is the kind of thing that can really piss me off, especially if I'm late for something or stressed about something. But I'm the opposite of stressed and the opposite of late, not to mention I've been talking Buddhism lately, so perhaps this is some kind of object lesson? a koan of some sort? I was very calm, put my hands in prayer position and observed my mind and my surroundings. Calmly, I began searching... the pockets of my pack, above the door, under any cracks where it might have slipped, on the porch, over the porch, in the bedding, under the towel, in my toilet kit, multiple times on all of those places. Where was that little brass padlock? It was as though I had a mind cramp and threw it as far as I could.. what else could explain a disappearance like this. It's a tiny cabin, I have very limited stuff, and I searched everywhere for maybe 30-40 minutes.
Finally I went to the reception area and said, 'I have a problem'. I explained the situation to the young woman, and was overheard by an older man, who I thought might be the owner of the place, Mr Jan. He kind of chuckled at my dilemma, said, 'no problem' in broken English, and then came with me back to the cabin to have a look. We looked together for a couple of minutes, and I was miming 'arms outstretched, what the heck?' but still couldn't find it.
Mr Jan is the closest person to Mr Miyagi (from the Karate Kid movies) whom I've ever met. When I first saw him yesterday, he was watering some of the incredible garden which surrounds all of the cabins. There are winding paths, many hanging baskets, cleverly trimmed hedges, and food growing everywhere in Mr Jan's little paradise. It's extraordinarily well designed with little ponds, garden statues and a feeling of great serenity. And clearly it's a reflection of this man with the twinkle in his eye.
He said, 'wait a minute' and went back to the office to get another lock. I kept searching. He came back two minutes later and indicated that he needed to go buy one, I kept searching, and by now, I was formulating how to describe this little lesson in blog format.
I considered all types of possibilities for where the lock could have gone to. Did someone secretly pick it up to mess with my head? Not likely. The fact that I'm currently reading a book by Cristopher Moore (what a phenomenal and funny auther!), made me consider some mystical, unexplainable causes, because his work doesn't stick to a standard rational menu. Is the lock in another dimension? Did Coyote come to trick me? That kind of stuff. I was definitely delighting in the mystery, at the same time using my eyes as I rarely use them, looking intently at my surroundings, seeing things that I'd normally miss.... a bottle cap clinging to s tiny ledge, a piece of string camouflaging itself near a crack in the floor. Everything but the lock. And yeah, 'a lock'....losing a lock, how's that for symbolism? Is it about 'freedom'?
Ten minutes later Mr Jan came back with a new lock and key. He said $150 Baht ($5) which was what the price tag said. But he wasn't charging me, merely sharing the news about what he paid. I reached for my wallet and pulled out 150, and he tried to just take the 100, leaving the 50 for me. No way, I insisted, and he finally took the whole amount. I made a show about being super attentive when I tried the lock, hanging it oh so carefully on a little hook, showing him that I learned my lesson. He smiled and said 'Pay attention', then went off for the rest of his day. I felt like I was touched by something special. Makes me smile to recount it.
So with that mantra of 'pay attention' in my mind, I headed over to rent a scooter, something that was definitely making me anxious. The first time I ever got on a motorcycle, I was 19 years old and my college buddy was teaching me. He had a Honda 305, but the hand brake didn't work, so I had to use the foot brake, which was located under the kick start on the right side. I got it in gear, shifted to second, went for the brake but couldn't find it. I had to go around and under the kick start, and I was hitting it, instead of the brake. Started going faster, couldn't stop, then I froze, let the clutch out all the way, flew across the street toward some parked cars, ditched the bike, flew over the handle bars and tore myself up on the curb. Still got the scar. (not that it's a vivid memory or anything.... breathe...)
I've since ridden a tiny bit, that same bike in an open field for instance, and a couple of Vespa rides in Ibiza, so obviously, I'm a total beginner at this stuff. And yeah, nervous too, even though everyone and his dog rides these things here. So I lined up to rent a bike, yeah I paid a little extra for the insurance, yeah I took a helmet too. 90 percent of the locals ride without them, but I think I'll play it on the safe side. With the insurance, the total price for the rental came to $6. for a 24 hour period. I took it out easy, and after about 20 minutes, when my sphincter started to relax a bit, damn, this is kinda fun. I rode around for 30-40 minutes, then came back to town for some lunch, now I'll go off again on the bike and try to find the hot springs which ar about 5 miles away. Good times.... Ommmm
Oh yeah, even though I'm on a little 120cc 'rice rocket', I'm still singing 'Born to Be Wild' as I cruise around the valley. Hey, whatever works...
And oh oh yeah, I'm paying attention....
The Life of Pai
Well somehow I managed to beat it out of Chiang Mai, a place where it would be oh so easy to just hang out for a long period of time, (which could still happen, as I'll have to go back through there after this foray). Pai is 135 kilometers to the northwest of Chiang Mai, half of it, a fairly steep, switchbacked climb into lovely tropical mountains. Pai is the ultra hip, musical, jet-setter destination for dreadlocked, herbal tea drinking, massage studying, yoga practicing beautiful people. And there are even a bunch of local Thais who are reaping the 'benefits?' of a large infusion of international hipsters.
Every day, an armada of 12 seater Toyota vans make the trek from Chiang Mai to disgorge their cargo of European, Israeli, American and everywhere else adventure seekers. Van after van going up the hill and coming down the hill in a seemingly endless swarm. It's a really cheap ride actually; I paid $6.00 for the three hour trip, and that included a pickup at the Guest House where I was staying. It couldn't be much more convenient. It's hard to see how the vans turn a profit, what with the price of gas and all, but of course there's the obligatory 15 minute stop at the snack place halfway up the hill, and I'm sure that kicks back some decent cash to the company.
I chose to get here early, figuring that would give me a better shot at finding easy lodging, and that's exactly what happened. Followed my nose, and a sign for Mr Jan's Guest House, and found a private little cabin for under $7 with a bathroom included. Sweet deal, so I dropped my stuff off and took a stroll around the town. First impression was really negative, 'it's just too much' I thought, in that kind of self-loathing trap that is common to tourists. 'There's too many tourists', realizing of course that I'm part and parcel of the problem. I guess it's one more example of the old saw that, any time a place is written up as a must-see destination, that about spells doom for what made it great to begin with.
Those thoughts were running through my head as I surveyed the cappucino places, the tee shirt places, the throngs of westerners roaming the streets, snapping up rooms, shopping, renting motorcycles, doing all the stuff that tourists do. I was tired, for one thing, didn't sleep enough last night, and I was on the verge of being bummed out. I needed to walk out of town and actually see the mountains in whose glen I was located.
Started walking west out of town as the sun was beginning to set. The further I got, the more the town dropped away, and soon I had some vistas of a lovely set of hills, a moon rise and an escape from the motorcycles. I walked maybe a mile and a half, then turned into a field that had a little pond in it, where I sat down to ponder the view, stretch out a bit and just be in a quiet place. Get on the earth, which I had been missing in the big city. I didn't worry about being out after dark, because it's just about a full moon tonight, so there was no danger of getting lost.
That little interlude turned it for me, and after a half hour, I headed back to town with a melody in my voice and a much better attitude. There was something bordering on 'profound' in the transition, and that became clearer in a conversation I had with a Turkish guy I had met on the van ride up the hill. I saw him sitting alone, on his third beer, and he invited me to sit down. He said he is drinking his last beers and smoking his last cigarettes for a few months, as tomorrow he will enter a Buddhist monastery where he spent six months a year or so ago. He's been practicing Buddhism for some time, and we got into a great conversation about judgment, will, desire, and living in the center.
I was struck by how my attitude had done a 180 from the unhappy judging person I was two hours previous. Suddenly I'm sitting in a bar, music is playing, I'm aware of it, but have no judgment about whether it's good or bad or anything. It just is. And there are people streaming by and I have no judgment about who they are, what they're doing, where they're going, it doesn't matter. I register that people are walking past, but my focus is internal and non-judgmental and it's such a better place to be. Kinda makes me wonder if I can recognize when I'm getting that judgmental thing going, and find a way to just see it, and let it go.
And of course there's always a bit of potential irony in the search for enlightenment, in that, if your 'goal' is to achieve enlightenment, then the very nature of having a 'goal' to achieve will make for a failure. It's not about achievement or renouncing or any kind of willful action. Just observe, be, stay in the center. That's the kind of stuff we spoke about for an hour, and it was a really good hour. (not that I'm judging, of course).
But then of course a string of lovely women kept parading by and my internal muse got a little clouded and it was time to check out the evening scene in Pai. Pretty cool doings, lots of music on the street, GREAT STREET FOOD, which I sampled at a few spots. My favorite was a woman who was making this great noodle soup with veggies, meat and spices. She put it together right in front of you, and wow, if I could eat like that every day for a buck twenty, Rich would be a happy boy. Street food is the best.
I wandered around town slowly (as would befit my new Buddhist approach:-) and I came upon a nice little gaggle of young musicians sitting in a circle on the side of the street. This good looking Aussie hipster was singing sweet, and his guitar accompanist was off the charts great on guitar. Then the Aussie took a break and the guitarist, a 46 year old German dude, named Thomas, dialed in some technology and played a studpendous set of his original music. He had a little 4 track hooked up to a small amp, and he was using it like an MP3 player to play the backing tracks (drums, bass, keyboards, effects from the album he's been creating). With that as accompaniment, he was laying down some Pat Metheny-like lead guitar, and I'm not being facetious. The guy was genius, the music was genius, and I was awestruck. He appreciated my unequivocal support, and was pointing out some of the stuff that was happening in the music. Really cool guy, he invited me to where he and his friends are staying near the river, and maybe I'll try to find them tomorrow.
Now it's 11:30 pm, it's kinda chilly as we're at a fairly high elevation, so it's time to call it a good day, and get some rest. Plan for tomorrow is to rent a motorcycle and see if i can keep myself in one piece. Looks easy, everyone does it, you see whole families on a bike, no helmets for the locals, often helmets for the westerners. I think a helmet would be in order for the first time on a bike in like 30 years. It's not like I flew over the handlebars the first time I ever rode a motorcycle or anything. Oh wait a minute, that's exactly what happened in front of my dorm at Alfred University in like 1972. So I've got a little anxiety which it's time to allay. Allez!
Every day, an armada of 12 seater Toyota vans make the trek from Chiang Mai to disgorge their cargo of European, Israeli, American and everywhere else adventure seekers. Van after van going up the hill and coming down the hill in a seemingly endless swarm. It's a really cheap ride actually; I paid $6.00 for the three hour trip, and that included a pickup at the Guest House where I was staying. It couldn't be much more convenient. It's hard to see how the vans turn a profit, what with the price of gas and all, but of course there's the obligatory 15 minute stop at the snack place halfway up the hill, and I'm sure that kicks back some decent cash to the company.
I chose to get here early, figuring that would give me a better shot at finding easy lodging, and that's exactly what happened. Followed my nose, and a sign for Mr Jan's Guest House, and found a private little cabin for under $7 with a bathroom included. Sweet deal, so I dropped my stuff off and took a stroll around the town. First impression was really negative, 'it's just too much' I thought, in that kind of self-loathing trap that is common to tourists. 'There's too many tourists', realizing of course that I'm part and parcel of the problem. I guess it's one more example of the old saw that, any time a place is written up as a must-see destination, that about spells doom for what made it great to begin with.
Those thoughts were running through my head as I surveyed the cappucino places, the tee shirt places, the throngs of westerners roaming the streets, snapping up rooms, shopping, renting motorcycles, doing all the stuff that tourists do. I was tired, for one thing, didn't sleep enough last night, and I was on the verge of being bummed out. I needed to walk out of town and actually see the mountains in whose glen I was located.
Started walking west out of town as the sun was beginning to set. The further I got, the more the town dropped away, and soon I had some vistas of a lovely set of hills, a moon rise and an escape from the motorcycles. I walked maybe a mile and a half, then turned into a field that had a little pond in it, where I sat down to ponder the view, stretch out a bit and just be in a quiet place. Get on the earth, which I had been missing in the big city. I didn't worry about being out after dark, because it's just about a full moon tonight, so there was no danger of getting lost.
That little interlude turned it for me, and after a half hour, I headed back to town with a melody in my voice and a much better attitude. There was something bordering on 'profound' in the transition, and that became clearer in a conversation I had with a Turkish guy I had met on the van ride up the hill. I saw him sitting alone, on his third beer, and he invited me to sit down. He said he is drinking his last beers and smoking his last cigarettes for a few months, as tomorrow he will enter a Buddhist monastery where he spent six months a year or so ago. He's been practicing Buddhism for some time, and we got into a great conversation about judgment, will, desire, and living in the center.
I was struck by how my attitude had done a 180 from the unhappy judging person I was two hours previous. Suddenly I'm sitting in a bar, music is playing, I'm aware of it, but have no judgment about whether it's good or bad or anything. It just is. And there are people streaming by and I have no judgment about who they are, what they're doing, where they're going, it doesn't matter. I register that people are walking past, but my focus is internal and non-judgmental and it's such a better place to be. Kinda makes me wonder if I can recognize when I'm getting that judgmental thing going, and find a way to just see it, and let it go.
And of course there's always a bit of potential irony in the search for enlightenment, in that, if your 'goal' is to achieve enlightenment, then the very nature of having a 'goal' to achieve will make for a failure. It's not about achievement or renouncing or any kind of willful action. Just observe, be, stay in the center. That's the kind of stuff we spoke about for an hour, and it was a really good hour. (not that I'm judging, of course).
But then of course a string of lovely women kept parading by and my internal muse got a little clouded and it was time to check out the evening scene in Pai. Pretty cool doings, lots of music on the street, GREAT STREET FOOD, which I sampled at a few spots. My favorite was a woman who was making this great noodle soup with veggies, meat and spices. She put it together right in front of you, and wow, if I could eat like that every day for a buck twenty, Rich would be a happy boy. Street food is the best.
I wandered around town slowly (as would befit my new Buddhist approach:-) and I came upon a nice little gaggle of young musicians sitting in a circle on the side of the street. This good looking Aussie hipster was singing sweet, and his guitar accompanist was off the charts great on guitar. Then the Aussie took a break and the guitarist, a 46 year old German dude, named Thomas, dialed in some technology and played a studpendous set of his original music. He had a little 4 track hooked up to a small amp, and he was using it like an MP3 player to play the backing tracks (drums, bass, keyboards, effects from the album he's been creating). With that as accompaniment, he was laying down some Pat Metheny-like lead guitar, and I'm not being facetious. The guy was genius, the music was genius, and I was awestruck. He appreciated my unequivocal support, and was pointing out some of the stuff that was happening in the music. Really cool guy, he invited me to where he and his friends are staying near the river, and maybe I'll try to find them tomorrow.
Now it's 11:30 pm, it's kinda chilly as we're at a fairly high elevation, so it's time to call it a good day, and get some rest. Plan for tomorrow is to rent a motorcycle and see if i can keep myself in one piece. Looks easy, everyone does it, you see whole families on a bike, no helmets for the locals, often helmets for the westerners. I think a helmet would be in order for the first time on a bike in like 30 years. It's not like I flew over the handlebars the first time I ever rode a motorcycle or anything. Oh wait a minute, that's exactly what happened in front of my dorm at Alfred University in like 1972. So I've got a little anxiety which it's time to allay. Allez!
Date night, Chiang Mai edition
Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head.... That's the beginning of the interlude for the Beatles tune 'A Day in the Life', which has to be about the best thing they ever did. (a perfect Lennon McCartney collaboration that ends with that crazy, tripped out crescendo and finally settles on that lowest note of the piano as final punctuation). Ah the 60's.
Not a bad metaphor for the greatest outdoor market experience I've ever seen, which is Chiang Mai's weekly bazaar on the 'Sunday Walking Street'. They close off a major throughfare to traffic, and then hundreds if not thousands of vendors show up for a daylong and deep into the night free-for all. It goes for about a mile, with throngs of people filling the street, shopping, shmoozing, eating and listening to some amazing street music.
I was there with my friend M, and that was nice too, as normally I'm on my own in those scenes, so it was a treat to have someone to hold hands with, have some food with, laugh with. We went to the market after spending a few hours at the clinic to see about her abdominal pain. There is a clinic that treats everybody, locals, foreigners, young, old, so you show up, get on the list and wait to be called.
Before she went in, there was a really funny scene in the waiting room. There was a cute little boy, maybe 4 years old who was nervous about having to get a needle. At one point he was crying, but then he mellowed out..... until they called his name. He starts flipping out, throwing himself on the floor, turning into a dead weight so his grandmother couldn't lift him up. The nurse is trying to entice him to get on the scale, that's all, no big deal, but he's not having it. Grandma tries to pick him up, and he shouts that he wants to walk, so she puts him down. But he wants to walk out the door and the whole waiting room is cracking up cause the kid is funny apparently. I didn't understand a word of it, obviously, but I was laughing too...
So M finally gets called, (90 minute wait) she goes in and the doctor (who she likes) decides it's a kidney problem. They take an Xray of her kidney, and also of her stomach, also a urinalysis, and she comes back to the waiting room to await the results. Then she's back in there for an injection (Owww, a real big one obviously), and then they fill the prescription for her antibiotics and pain meds. The whole thing super efficient and professional. total cost for the visit, the xrays, injection, prescriptions came to 480 Baht. Sixteen bucks, people. Let's hear again how the US health care is the best in the world.... Yeah right...
She can't drink alcohol for a week, and realizes it's a good thing. I think she was in a groove where you slip into the drinking thing, which means more smoking cigarettes and it's a downer for your system. So looks like 'clean up time', and I'm glad to see her heading in that direction. I've had maybe three or four beers since I've been in the country, and it's totally nice to be clean and smokeless, even amidst the tons of expats who are just hitting it hard every day. (mornings aren't pretty when you see some of those debauched faces). Tobacco is way cheaper than in the states, so my guess is that a lot of people are smoking more here than they would elsewhere. Sad...
After the clinic, we went to the Walking Street, and I was immediately blown away by the quality, the variety, the food, the setting and the music. First thing I saw, or rather heard and then saw, was a group of 4 blind men, sitting on the street as if in a canoe, one behind the other, as the crowds streamed by on either side. Guy in front had a little percussion kit with a couple of cymbals, a muted snare drum and other clickey clacks. Guy number 2 was playing guitar and singing, number three the same, guy in back had some tamborines and other jangly stuff. They all sang, kind of like if the Gypsy Kings were from India instead of the Pyrenees. Super cool music, falsetto harmonies, syncopated rhythm, they were a gold mine; people were filling up their coffers, and quickly.
There was another group of 5 older guys playing traditional instruments, strange (to a western eye) lutes, one guy playing a bowed thing in the back, a soft drum, a woman playing finger cymbals on the offbeats, it was traditional buddhist devotional music, totally relaxed and beautiful and so evocative. They were amplified and it was a perfect soundtrack to a dinner of curried noodles, some tiny omelets cooked in banana leaves, some shrimp and fish sausages and a balmy night in the big city.
The celebration goes on for about a mile: I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Then we got to the end of the street, and it kept going in three other directions. Longest celebration I've ever seen, and if I were the type who enjoyed shopping, man, it would have been heaven. One of the food areas was in the shadow of a famous Golden temple, which only added to the magic of the evening. All kinds of great food to be had, and folks sitting by the temple, enjoying the evening. Unreal!
Today I'm going to buy a ticket for a ride up to Pai, three hours to the north. It sounds like a chill place, in a valley surrounded by mountains. I've got it in my mind to rent one of the little motorcycles that everyone uses and see how I fare. There are tons of these 125cc automatic bikes which are quite easy to maneuver, super cheap to rent, but I want to get my feet wet in a place much quieter and safer than Chiang Mai, where there are 1.6 million people living and streaming down the roads. We shall see how it goes. I can do it, right? yeah... Tomorrow off to the hills...
Not a bad metaphor for the greatest outdoor market experience I've ever seen, which is Chiang Mai's weekly bazaar on the 'Sunday Walking Street'. They close off a major throughfare to traffic, and then hundreds if not thousands of vendors show up for a daylong and deep into the night free-for all. It goes for about a mile, with throngs of people filling the street, shopping, shmoozing, eating and listening to some amazing street music.
I was there with my friend M, and that was nice too, as normally I'm on my own in those scenes, so it was a treat to have someone to hold hands with, have some food with, laugh with. We went to the market after spending a few hours at the clinic to see about her abdominal pain. There is a clinic that treats everybody, locals, foreigners, young, old, so you show up, get on the list and wait to be called.
Before she went in, there was a really funny scene in the waiting room. There was a cute little boy, maybe 4 years old who was nervous about having to get a needle. At one point he was crying, but then he mellowed out..... until they called his name. He starts flipping out, throwing himself on the floor, turning into a dead weight so his grandmother couldn't lift him up. The nurse is trying to entice him to get on the scale, that's all, no big deal, but he's not having it. Grandma tries to pick him up, and he shouts that he wants to walk, so she puts him down. But he wants to walk out the door and the whole waiting room is cracking up cause the kid is funny apparently. I didn't understand a word of it, obviously, but I was laughing too...
So M finally gets called, (90 minute wait) she goes in and the doctor (who she likes) decides it's a kidney problem. They take an Xray of her kidney, and also of her stomach, also a urinalysis, and she comes back to the waiting room to await the results. Then she's back in there for an injection (Owww, a real big one obviously), and then they fill the prescription for her antibiotics and pain meds. The whole thing super efficient and professional. total cost for the visit, the xrays, injection, prescriptions came to 480 Baht. Sixteen bucks, people. Let's hear again how the US health care is the best in the world.... Yeah right...
She can't drink alcohol for a week, and realizes it's a good thing. I think she was in a groove where you slip into the drinking thing, which means more smoking cigarettes and it's a downer for your system. So looks like 'clean up time', and I'm glad to see her heading in that direction. I've had maybe three or four beers since I've been in the country, and it's totally nice to be clean and smokeless, even amidst the tons of expats who are just hitting it hard every day. (mornings aren't pretty when you see some of those debauched faces). Tobacco is way cheaper than in the states, so my guess is that a lot of people are smoking more here than they would elsewhere. Sad...
After the clinic, we went to the Walking Street, and I was immediately blown away by the quality, the variety, the food, the setting and the music. First thing I saw, or rather heard and then saw, was a group of 4 blind men, sitting on the street as if in a canoe, one behind the other, as the crowds streamed by on either side. Guy in front had a little percussion kit with a couple of cymbals, a muted snare drum and other clickey clacks. Guy number 2 was playing guitar and singing, number three the same, guy in back had some tamborines and other jangly stuff. They all sang, kind of like if the Gypsy Kings were from India instead of the Pyrenees. Super cool music, falsetto harmonies, syncopated rhythm, they were a gold mine; people were filling up their coffers, and quickly.
There was another group of 5 older guys playing traditional instruments, strange (to a western eye) lutes, one guy playing a bowed thing in the back, a soft drum, a woman playing finger cymbals on the offbeats, it was traditional buddhist devotional music, totally relaxed and beautiful and so evocative. They were amplified and it was a perfect soundtrack to a dinner of curried noodles, some tiny omelets cooked in banana leaves, some shrimp and fish sausages and a balmy night in the big city.
The celebration goes on for about a mile: I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Then we got to the end of the street, and it kept going in three other directions. Longest celebration I've ever seen, and if I were the type who enjoyed shopping, man, it would have been heaven. One of the food areas was in the shadow of a famous Golden temple, which only added to the magic of the evening. All kinds of great food to be had, and folks sitting by the temple, enjoying the evening. Unreal!
Today I'm going to buy a ticket for a ride up to Pai, three hours to the north. It sounds like a chill place, in a valley surrounded by mountains. I've got it in my mind to rent one of the little motorcycles that everyone uses and see how I fare. There are tons of these 125cc automatic bikes which are quite easy to maneuver, super cheap to rent, but I want to get my feet wet in a place much quieter and safer than Chiang Mai, where there are 1.6 million people living and streaming down the roads. We shall see how it goes. I can do it, right? yeah... Tomorrow off to the hills...
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