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.
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'.
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