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....
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!
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