"HAPPY BIRTHDAY"

Arriving back at the airport this morning was a strange feeling for sure. It was almost like coming back home, in a way. I mean, I spent so much time in Airports during my Thailand adventure. It was so bitter-sweet. But this upcoming journey is not nearly as monumental as my most recent. I'll be visiting friends in LA and San Francisco for ten days. Fantastic it will be, I'm sure but most people at my destination will be able to speak my language. I wonder if JFK has a secret cafeteria where all of the locals go to get the authentic American food. Seriously ... finding that gem in Bangkok is what kept me going through some frustrating times. 

I've been back in NYC for a month now. This past Sunday was my thirtieth consecutive Bikram class since my return. I still practice yoga everyday; that hasn't changed. Things are returning to normal but the transition has been long and slow. Life is completely different when the only thing for which I could possibly be late would be making it to a good vantage point in order to see the sunrise. The culture and vibe of New York City varies dramatically to what I had become accustomed in The East. And my body certainly let me know about it on a physical plane.

For several days, I would waken from dreams of frolicking with elephants and booking hotels; I was seriously dazed upon waking up. The momentum of my body was so misaligned with the momentum of the city. Plus, I was experiencing tired like no tired I had ever before known. I'm talking halucinatory-tired. It was unreal. For the first two nights back in my own bed, I didn't even have the energy to tuck myself it. 

But the body adapts and that's what is so incredible to experience. One night —while hanging out with my good friends at the airport in Bangkok — I was watching a team of white body suit-clad pros as they systematically cleaned the floor. It was a white tile floor, the size of a football stadium. Even the parts that were considered unfinished looked clean and white but I marveled as the team cleaned, rinsed, polished, and buffed to the point of absolute gleaming perfection. It was a ballet. Every square inch was scrutinized. They transformed a football stadium to gorgeous ice rink. And for what? So that traveling tourists could traipse the Bangkok grime all over it as they waited in line to check in for their flight? That's the thing; there's a constant spectrum in Thailand. The streets are dirty, filthy, stinky but the airport is an Emerald City. It's a culture obsessed with coveting a slender figure and pale skin: delicate and pristine. Walking the streets, you constantly encounter people sweeping with their hand-made brooms. Sweeping, sweeping, always cleaning. This practice, I'm assuming, is in place because when the monks set out to wander the streets collecting the day's offerings, they don't wear shoes. They roam the streets completely barefoot. So it's dirty but it's somehow clean. Again, a dichotomy ... the full spectrum. Just like my trip overall. 

The bacteria on the street food stands is undoubtedly rampant. Yet the body adapts. Eating food for two months which sits out in the sun on the street for hours, absorbing carcinogens from exhaust pipes and pathogens from little girls lifting their skirts to pee on the street ... right out in the open. Two months of this and I didn't get sick once. After only three days back in New York and I start losing weight, lacking energy, and proceeding through life in an absolute daze. I assumed that I had brought back a freeloading parasite in my intestines but then it mysteriously disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived. A colleague of mine suggested that perhaps it wasn't a parasite but instead, my body reacting to the food in this country. Sure, Thailand is dirty and completely unregulated in terms of food preparation but the food is fresh. There are no pesticides and GMO's, and antibiotics. Perhaps it was my body simply adapting, once again, to another abrupt change. 

I learned a lot about the far ends of the spectrum. I learned that, in times of despair, the extremes are exaggerated. I learned — while in the back of a taxi for three hours, desperately attempting to fulfill the desire to get to the airport in time — that every split-second decision becomes the infrastructure for an entirely new path. Each delicate decision appears to have been maneuvered incorrectly, leading closer and closer to demise. Yet once instilled with some hope, I'm flying high. I learned how, as these decisions are acted upon (regardless of how subtle they may seem,) the forward-moving momentum of the universe coerces a dramatically new trajectory. It's difficult to avoid referring to life as a journey because that's precisely what it is and with each new moment, a new crossroads. 

I'm a bit more self-absorbed now. Or at least, I was during the trip. How could I not be? It was all about me. But I'm also looking up more. I'm looking around more. Trying to be engrossed less exclusively in what's going on in my world. Trying to fully acknowledge the ramifications of each of my actions. I'm being more observant. I've opened up into something at least slightly different than what I once knew. In the first six hours upon re-acclimating to  my city, I was asked for directions from foreigners four separate times. I kid you not. Did they know something about me? Did they see something in my eyes ... knowing what I had just endured? When you're lost on the streets, who do you choose to stop for assistance? Is it the person who appear to be most knowledgeable and helpful or the person who seems most understanding and empathetic? You'd better believe that I stopped in my bath in order to provide very specific directions for them ... reviewing each detail with them three and four times in order to foster a full comprehension. I have a brand new appreciation for helping people in whose shoes I've now tread. 

Granted, there was some pressure for this trip to have a profound effect on me and the way that I progress in life. So, was some fabricated? Who knows. There are certainly things that are exactly the same. My neighborhood has changed even in the few short months of my absence. There's a 7-11 on my block. Can you believe it? A 7-11 in the East Village. So many culturally diverse food options on the streets of Downtown Manhattan and added to the list, rotating hot dogs and Slurpees. I suppose that I shouldn't fight it; there's a 7-11 on every corner in Thailand. Resisting for as long as possible, it was just about a solid four weeks before I set foot into a Thailand 7-11 but ultimately, it's just too damn convenient to avoid. Granted, I have not yet patronized the new gleaming 7-11 on Bowery and 2nd. I'm still facing some of life's challenges in the same way that I once did. I think I'm probably just a little bit more aware of it while it's happening. 

Flight Full ... again

I'm attempting to learn from my mistakes. I'm trying to splurge when it's useful. Yesterday, I treated myself to an express train from the airport. It was three times the cost of the standard Airport Link train but probably took one-third the time to my destination. It certainly demands balance though. I'm currently trying to evaluate the potential backlash that this unheeding financial outlook will have upon my return to New York. I was so proud of myself for landing right within my anticipated six-week budget upon my last (scheduled) day in Thailand. (You and I both know that this was no coincidence.) Granted, it was close and these extra days have pushed me beyond the limits. I'm even tempted to just disregard all of my principles and book a business class seat so that I can soar home in comfort. Yeah, we'll see if that happens. I'm still considering how I can make it through the night without booking another hotel room. What can I say? I live my life in extremes: yin & yang.

The current situation is as follows: the flight was full again this morning. Both this morning and last, it felt closer. Yesterday, I was the only one left standing and this morning it came down to only myself and one other person. It's clear to me that Im getting so close to landing a seat on this flight. But I've been told that the outlook for Saturday's flight is pretty bleak. I may give it one last attempt tomorrow or this might be the point where I purchase a ticket on another carrier. It appears as though I'll have to spend about $1,000 for a one-way which is about two-thirds of what the original trip would have cost back in November if I had purchased a confirmed seat rather than a standby ticket. In hindsight, yeah … I know.

I've pretty much concluded that my biggest fear in life … get ready for it … is dogs. I'm reflecting upon how silly it was when I was complaining about Chiang Mai's stray cats rubbing up against my ankles. The other day — as I was trying to find a way to walk … yes, I said it. To walk to the airport in order to save on cab fare — I was on a secluded road and found myself suddenly surrounded by four growling, angry dogs. I did my best to maintain my stride, look forward, keep moving, and disguise the scent of my prostrate fears. But my heart was pounding as I could feel an occasional snout brush up against my bare achilles. It's been a fear of mine ever since I was a child but the situations in which I've found myself in this country have been confounding. Street dogs seem to be a problem here … or, at least they are when found nipping at my heels. It's happened four or five times since I arrived here; let's just say that I'm glad that I made it through that one unscathed.

I do seem to fit right in here though. No longer am I the freakishly skinny or freakishly flexible one. The majority of the boys are small here and some, even tinier than myself. Plus, they all have impeccably well-fitting pants. I suppose it's a product of having some of the best (and cheapest) tailors in the world. They're all here. If I had more room in my bags, I would definitely come home with a few pairs of $22 custom-made pants. Next time. I did take Jakob's advice of purchasing an additional suitcase for transporting goods but that was quickly consumed with gifts and souvenirs for others.

But there will be a next time … a time when I can put into practice everything that I've learned on this maiden voyage. It's a terrific way of life over here. It's rare to find hot water plumbing because, even during the coldest part of the year, the low only drops to about 60°. There's often no temperature control at the faucets. No hot or cold. It's just on or off. Simplicity. It's the same situation with the showers unless there's a supplementary water heating device which hangs on the wall attached to several hoses. The plumbing is definitely different here. As is the traffic control. You know those buttons provided at the crosswalks? You know … the ones that frantic pedestrian commuters incessantly pound upon in hopes that the traffic light will foster a shift in the destiny of their morning routine? In Thailand, those buttons actually do something. If pressed once, the crosswalk signal will immediately start to blink and within four seconds, the adjacent traffic light prompts the cars to stop. Granted, not all of the motorists will acknowledge this signal, still … it's a start. I'm going to test this theory with the elevator buttons as well.

It's a lovely, easy-going, way of life. If something doesn't work, you fix it. If there's a more efficient way to get something done, you explore it. In the men's room at the airport in Ko Samui, there's an enormous salt water fish tank situated directly above the urinals. It just makes for a lovely ambiance … while you pee. I can just imaging the items on the janitor's checklist: re-fill toilet paper: √, clean the urinals: √, feed the fish: √. There's a secret cafeteria that I've discovered in the Bangkok airport. It's situated in the furthest corner of the airport, far from the Starbucks and the farang (tourist) sit-down establishments. There are no signs for it, and there is no luggage permitted within. It's delightful. It offers authentic Thai food at authentic prices. Upstairs in the food court, you'll pay 190 baht for mango & sticky rice. Down here, it's 20 baht. Yes! Yesterday I tried some delightful desserts: banana and pumpkin swimming in sugar and coconut milk. Today, I had a sweet potato curry and a mushroom soup with more varieties of mushrooms than you can count on both hands. If I hadn't been forced to make the airport my second home for the past four days, I likely would have never discovered this gem. I'm considering applying for a job here at the airport. I think I'd be great at collecting those luggage carts or wiping down the stainless steel railings. I'm here everyday and I think it would be great to have something to occupy my time rather than eating yummy food all day.

Doing my best ...

I'm just doing my best. I tried to extend my stay here at the hotel right after I was rejected from the flight once again this morning. I had a consistent airport WiFi signal just long enough to confirm that the rate would have been the same as the previous day. However, the signal was neither strong enough or steady enough for me to complete the booking. Now the rate is 215 baht higher. There's nothing that I can do. I'm stuck. I have to shell out the money … again and again and again. I'm just doing my best but that often seems to lead me in directions which are less than ideal. I would have saved money had I booked the hotel last night but the quality of the WiFi connection was completely beyond my control.

For instance, arriving in Bangkok at rush hour attempting to make a 5:30pm Bikram class. It was silly to have expected to be able to make it in time but I just did my best. I booked my original flight so that I could make it to the 7:30pm class. When I discovered that 7:30pm had been canceled, I arrived at the airport early in order to catch the previous flight. I did everything in my power to make it happen but my potential can extend only so far. I'm obviously learning some big lessons about spending money where it's worthwhile but the biggest lesson is doing everything possible to make something happen but to then release attachment to results. I would have loved to have been able to take a Bikram class on Friday but I had no control of disembarkation and baggage claim and subway transfers. I was stuck. I made sure to show up when and where I needed to be then just let the rest transpire. What can I say? It was rush hour and of the scores of taxis that passed, not a single one agreed to pick me up.

When I did finally make it to the hotel, I took some time to settle in … to unpack a bit and be OK with the fact that I would have no yoga for the next two days and that though the hotel advertised a sauna that, in fact, such an amenity did not exist. I left the hotel to hit the town. I made it only two blocks before being hounded by two police officers on motorcycles. They stopped me and stepped me back up onto the curb. They asked me to provide a passport and to empty my pockets. One of the two was busy examining my chapstick. I swear, he took the lid off to inquisitively extend and retract it four times before convincing himself that it was not contraband. And it what other situation could I feel a greater sense of helplessness? I knew that I was doing nothing wrong but I had to be respectful and to take all of the harassment in stride. Stuck.

This is my same tactic for the current airport situation. By booking standby flights, I saved about $750 on the initial cost of my international flights not knowing — when it was booked four months ago — that the flights would be so full. Without a confirmed seat, I simply have to show up at the airport and wait as all of the other passengers claim the privilege of getting where they need to be. If, when everyone else has boarded, there happens to be a seat for me, I'm on. But after going through these motions on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I'm still in Bangkok. I'm doing everything possible but a seat is a seat and there are only so many of them to go around. So, I'm stuck. It's identical to the situation with the police officers. I have to be polite and patient as I watch the unfortunate situation unfold before my eyes. I will do my best to make things happen the way that I'd like but I ultimately have no control of where the wind will take me.

In attempt to find an economical route from Bangkok to my hotel, I decided to get comfortable with the Bangkok bus system … or at least attempt to do so. After waiting for over an hour for the arrival of the #38 bus, I switched to Plan B and made it over to the subway where I bumped into the desk attendant from the Bikram studio. He promised to accompany me to the next bus stop where I'd find an alternative route to the hotel. Just as before … busses were coming quite frequently: the 136, the 96, the 545. But there was no sign of the bus for which I was looking. It was a blessing to run into Jit on the train and I'm so fortunate to have had him there to keep me company while I waited. So Jit got me into a taxi and helped explain to the driver where I needed to go. Right off the bat, I realized that the driver was going in the opposite direction of my final destination. I just assumed that he was setting up course for a more efficient route. But after about twenty minutes of this we ended up even further from the hotel than where I had initially started at that original bus station. So my attempt to save money has now landed me in a worse situation than when I had started. I'll end up spending more than if I had just taken the Airport Link straight to the airport. I refused to pay that driver any more than the cost of the toll that we crossed. I explained the situation to a motorcycle taxi driver and he managed to get me on my way to the airport. (By the way, the poor condition of the Bangkok streets give an entirely new meaning to "…bounce like a motorcycle ride.") This drive has the best of intentions but about thirty minutes pass before I realize that he thought that I wanted him to take me to the Airport Link train which would take me the rest of the way to the airport. He misunderstood. And now it's fruitless because it's too late at night to catch the train. I was finally able to waive down the THIRD taxi driver and seem to successfully explain to him where I need to be. But almost three more hours in the back of this taxi pass (as the driver gets lost amid the confusing limited access roads surrounding the airport,) before we finally make it to the hotel. At this point, the 45 minutes commute has taken me four hours. And these are precious hours that I was planning to use to lie down for a bit before spending another few hours at the airport waiting to see if I'm lucky enough to have scored a seat on the flight from Bangkok to Tokyo.

Inflated hotel rates, missed Bikram classes, questionably-intentioned police officers, unconfirmed plane tickets, roundabout public transportation … these are all components of my trip which are costing me. But he incredible display of fresh orchids at the airport, heart-shaped fried eggs, an afternoon of peaceful relaxation by the pool, a few delicious meals, a piping hot bubble bath with a candle and a glass of wine, coconut ice cream … these are all of the moments of ecstasy which help to keep me going. I'm just doing the best that I can and trying to find some beauty in each of these situations as they come. I'll often find a beautiful frangipani flower juxtaposed among the sweltering corrugated steel and garbage and squallar of the ghetto.

Luis gets lonely being so far from home. Clare feels foresaken when she dines alone. I don't. But I do find it challenging to get adequate sun-screen coverage while on my own. I'll use that as an excuse for my absurd tan-lines. And I don't think that it would be particularly fun to play mini-golf (at DinoPark) without someone to share in the fun. I did feel some pangs of loneliness while at the beach two days ago. I mean, how much is there to do in the ocean when you've got nobody with whom to frolic? I'm fairly good at being independent but I guess I have my moments.
When you're with someone, that relationship … that thing … is the most important thing in the world. Worries of satisfying the other person can inundate every waking thought. And when that precious thing is in jeopardy, it's suddenly the end of the world. Thoughts are now consumed by what could potentially be damaged or destroyed. Christina was just broken up with (via Skype.) And I've been there; I empathize. Relationships are tricky. The adorable British couple behind me in line to check in at the airport today were in the midst of it. She almost lost the passports — he's too demanding and accusatory. (That's how much I could gather from the conversation.) I've been there, in that identical skirmish at the airport. But the good moments are priceless. And I've been there as well. Despair and ecstasy. Without one, the other is unable to exist.
I had a lovely experience at the airport today. Once again, the lovely check-in attendant granted me an exception to the baggage allowance. I have a Limited Release on my souvenir/gift suitcase. I hate to be that guy, cruising through life with a sense of entitlement … expecting exceptions to be made for all of the rules. That's not me. (I hope.) However, it's enormously helpful for me to avoid paying surcharges for the gifts that I'm bringing home for my loved ones. After all, this is my third flight since Chiang Mai and all of those fees would accumulate quickly. I've apparently had some pretty terrific airport karma but some pretty terrible hotel karma. We'll see how things go tonight when I check in to the Manhattan Hotel in Bangkok. It's true: I'm getting a head-start on my NYC transition by spending the next three nights in "Manhattan."
Bikram's wife is holding a seminar in Bangkok this weekend. Good timing, right? It's brilliant that I'll get a chance to see Rajashree and to stop by to catch up with all of the out-of-town visitors. It's very serendipitous that this trip prevented me from attending the New York Regional Championship but that it will allow me to be a part of the Thailand Regional Championship. So everything is good, right? Well, until I realize that there are classes canceled this weekend for the event. I honed in on this specific flight particularly so that I could attend the 7:30pm class at Bikram Bangkok. I dropped the owner a quick email last night to inquire about possible class cancellations. And sure enough: no 7:30pm.
But I arrived at the airport early in attempt to snag an earlier flight. I've never done that before but it seemed to work out well. I have a boarding pass for the 2:30pm flight. We'll see how all of this goes. If my wishes are granted, I'll be sweating in Half Moon by 5:45pm. Long story short: I spend way too much time in life, pondering decisions: before, during, and after. You'd laugh (or perhaps cry,) if you ever found out how much time I spent calculating flight times and how they'd coordinate with available yoga classes. All of that invested time is suddenly wasted when motor bikes stall or flights are delayed or classes are canceled. But here we go; I'm on my way. All studios are closed tomorrow but I'll cross my fingers for tonight.
Regardless, I have to trust that I've made the proper preparations and that the ultimate result is beyond my control. Whether that time has been wasted, I must let go. One of the songs that was playing at my bungalow restaurant yesterday was preaching: "Everybody's telling me stop sticking to yesterday." I'm doing my very best to live in the present moment and enjoy the good and the bad. Sometimes it tough. After all, I am living twelve hours in the future. (That's a little my-time-zone-is-twelve-hours-ahead-of-yours joke. I know; not particularly funny. Don't worry; I won't ever put you through that again.)

It's so easy to complain. Why are the negative things in life so much more tactile than the good ones? The check-in experience at my last hotel was one of those not quite enjoyable situations. I booked in advance online using a discount booking service and decided to splurge a bit: I went for the place with the pool and the room with the balcony and bathtub. I was excited. However, my excitement was defeated when my expectations were not met. Promised on the room description were WiFi, a bathtub, a refrigerator, and a balcony. (Now you might think that a bathtub is a fairly extraneous amenity but after not seeing one for over a month, it was pretty enticing.) The first room that I was showed had neither a bathtub nor a refrigerator. After bringing this to the attention of the staff, the alternative room that I was showed was missing a balcony. I was given the option to upgrade to a deluxe room for an additional 350 baht per night but that is too much for me. Should I stay in the room with no balcony? Should I demand the deluxe room at no additional charge? Should I request a refund from the online booking merchant? They were unable to provide what was advertised and they lied to me a few times during the interaction. Mistrust is exhausting. I couldn't trust a word that these people were saying because first they had only an inferior alternative room, then they had only an upgrade-room, then they were fully booked and had nothing for me. I initially thought that I had a beautiful place to stay with all of the desired amenities. Shortly after, the amenities were yanked. Then I was led to believe that the place was full and that I without a place to stay (after already paying for the room.) It was all a bit emotionally daunting. To add to the emotional distress, I was lugging my four huge bags up and down four flights of stairs as I was being shown room after room of upgrade options.

It's becoming very apparent to me what type of situations make me grumpy. The place where I'm currently staying is much better. The people are nice and the accommodations are as advertised. But the WiFi is terrible … basically nonexistent. After fiddling around for over an hour last night, I simply decided that I would have to save all of my computer stuff for an off-site location. Earlier this morning, I sat a restaurant with a cup of coffee using the WiFi. I could tell that the owner was a bit annoyed that I was only ordering coffee. She reluctantly gave me the WiFi password and everything was going smoothly … taking care of business. She must have pulled the plug on the WiFi because after fifteen minutes of uninterrupted signal, it was suddenly gone. She said that the signal is strongest upstairs in the guest rooms. Ridiculous. And a WiFi connection doesn't just mean access to FaceBook and BlogSpot. It's about researching hotels and booking flights, both of which I have to accomplish this morning. True, I'm working on less planning-ahead in life but I don't think it would be wise to show up in Bangkok tomorrow night without some sort of prearranged bookings.

On Sunday, while climbing to the highest viewpoint on Koh Phi Phi island, I hit another obstacle. I was drenched in sweat. Now, I'm no stranger to sweat but in this situation — climbing the steep hill, in the blazing sun, with jeans, socks and shoes — severe perspiration was unavoidable. There's a tiny hut at a midpoint of the climb. The woman (who clearly lives there,) sells water, and doritos, and beer. You know, the essentials for tourists engaged in an exhausting climb. I passed by the hut but then reconsidered. Giving in to the desire to wipe my brown and clean my glasses, I inquire about the cost of one her scarves. (Keep in mind, every article of clothing of mine is now already saturated.) She quotes 150 baht … more than I wished to spend. So I turn around and head for the hills. After reconsidering again, I return to the vendor and surrender to her inflated price. Seeing that I'm pretty desperate at this point, she replies "Now, it's 200." Unreal. I walk away in disgust. With a feeling of complete animosity, I decided to keep to myself that if she simply soaked some towels in eucalyptus and stored them in the fridge, that she'd have a gold mine. I'll save all of that entrepreneurial brilliance for myself.

I've pondered how annoying that it must be for these merchants and business owners to constantly deal with stingy, clueless, (and often disrespectful) tourists. That's why I've decided that it's important to remember to smile when things are good. It makes those pleasurable moments even lovelier. When you break things down, the truth is that I'm sitting here, enjoying a freshly squeezed Ginger and Tamarind Juice. How could things get any better than this? At the airport on my way from Krabi to Samui, I was treated so kindly. I'm not sure if this person liked me in particular or if she is this sweet to everyone. After determining that I exceeded the baggage weight limitation, I was told that I'd have to pay for the excessive kilograms. I proceeded to reconfigure the contents of the bags: heaviest items in the carry-ons and lighter items back into the checked bags. Bags now wide open, all of my belongings are sprawled on the airport floor as I consider my options. I had already done this to a certain extent during my initial packing but I was scraping the bottom of the barrel here. After about ten minutes of resorting and weighing in, I was still overweight. Look … 'm skinny. The total mass that I consume on the plane — with all of my bags — is probably a lot less than the fat guy sitting next to me. Why doesn't everyone weigh in by stepping on the scale while holding all of their baggage. That's the way that I'd like it to be! Ultimately, the kind attendant allowed me to redistribute heavy items into my roller board and carry on three bags rather than just two. She went out of her way to bend the rules in order to accommodate me when in the end, I should have just sucked it up and paid the fee. I was so grateful. So I smiled. I smiled each time I saw her again (which was three or four times because she played several roles in the airport procedures.)

It's easy to complain. Last night, while at the cafe, an enormous frog hopped over my foot. There was an eight-inch lizard waiting to greet me at the door of my bungalow. But everything is really good; I'm in paradise. Last night, I scored a mojito which cost me $1.94. Thailand has destroyed me. how am I ever going to enjoy a mojito made by anyone other than a "Bar-pro Asian Champion?"

So American

I overheard someone ask for the time at the airport the other day. "It's half past one" was the girl's reply. No it's not; it's 1:39pm. But that extra nine minutes meant nothing to either the girl responding or the guy who was asking. To me, those nine unaccounted minutes could make or break. It's so American.

I'm doing my best to learn that it's sometimes OK to be only two or three steps ahead rather than fourteen steps ahead. I've been booking hotels, flights, and ferries only a day or two in advance. It's an new thing for me. I'm doing alright with it here. I just wonder if the same mentality will be able to be applied once I'm back in The States.

At the moment I'm checking into a place where I can hear a Scissor Sisters song coming from the bar. Thank goodness. Finally, some good music in this country. On one of the ferries last week, we were inundated with "...until the 12th of never ... and that's a long, long time." I think I heard that song three times over the course of the ninety-minute ferry ride. And it's rare that you'll ever hear the original American artist; it's always a cover.

The best tough, is passing bars and clubs which boast live music. It's always awful covers of easy-listening American music. Most times the (usually Thai,) singer is completely oblivious to the correct lyrics and just sort of mumbles an makes up his own. It's just like when you're singing along to that new song that you hear on the radio. All you know is the chorus so when you come to the bridge, you just play it off like your alternative lyrics are actually a suitable replacement. The only difference is that these guys are on stage!

Something that's not very American is how easy it is to settle the bill at a restaurant. 170 baht for vegetable korma, 50 baht for naan. No tax, no tip. You can simply drop 220, walk out, and call it a day. Easy.

It's about freedom. That's what makes vacation so lovely. You can do whatever you want whenever you want and however you want. (And I think traveling alone allows for even more of that.) Granted, there are impediments, of course. For instance, the rain today was a huge impediment for me. Quite inconvenient. There were several activities that I missed today because of a few random downpours. I've been told that this type of weather is entirely atypical for this time of year and today, I was actually accused of bringing the rain with me. Trust me, if I had my choice …

I have three separate outfits hanging to dry in the closet as we speak. Getting caught in the rain in NYC on my mountain bike is one of my least favorite things. But being a newbie on the motor bike while rarely knowing where exactly I'm headed and how exactly I'm going to get there — that makes things so much more burdensome. But the rain didn't stop be from starting my day at a nearby lake which is a destination for the locals. It was early in the day so I was literally the only one there. Peaceful and tranquil. I drove the circumference of the lake along the windy, jungle road. Then it was off to breakfast. Again, I have no idea what I ate but it was delicious. The cook came out at one point and was flattered when I went back up for a second helping. Little does he know that I always go back for seconds. I didn't let on though; I allowed him to delight in the moment.

Next, I was off to Kathu Waterfall. It paled in scale to some of the other waterfalls I've seen yet it was still nice to be enveloped by the sounds of nature: the water, the locusts, the fogs. (In yoga, we have Frog Pose and Locust Pose but no Water Pose. I'll work on that one.) Following the waterfall, I made it through some of the rain before stopping in for a coffee and some shelter. In the rain on the bike, my vision is obstructed, I have a hard time breathing as I'm being pelted with drops, the wind sends chills through my bones, and I'm drenched. There's only so much that I can bear before seeking refuge. But stopping for coffee every hour can cause issues for this caffeine-sensitive boy.

Determined, I continued on to Phuket Town which reminds me a lot of Chiang Mai. It definitely bears more of an urban feel than most of the island. Chinese shrines are much more prevalent here than the typical Buddhist temple. I managed to find a traditional Buddhist temple where there was some sort of ceremony in action. I was reluctant to take a photo because I thought that it may have been a funeral. However, I decided that the guests were enjoying themselves entirely too much for it to be a gathering of mourning. Besides … when you die, do you want your life to be celebrated with three huge roast pigs under a tent in the rain?

I discovered an awesome night market where you can find all sorts of food and wares … even chicken feet. I mean, that's what those are in the photo above, right? [Click on the image for a closer look.] What else could they be? Do people really eat those? I promise you that I will not purchase anything from a vendor who also sells chicken feet. I also stumbled upon a few incredible viewpoints which overlook the entire city. It was impressive at night but I can't wait to wake up early tomorrow morning in order to get a daytime taste of the visuals. I stopped in at the mountaintop restaurant for Green Papaya Salad.

I have to pack things up again tonight. Four nights in Kathu and tomorrow I'm off to my next destination. It's only thirty minutes south of here but I'm transferring to a place which is a bit more luxurious and a bit more conveniently located for the beach. I'll be paying twice what I'm paying here but I managed to negotiate $13 less per night than what the owner was originally asking. That knocked 25% off the price. I can hear the rain outside; it's pouring. While I'm on my bike in the rain, I find myself audibly pleading with the rain to stop. "Okay, give me a break; please stop raining." "Alright, just wait. Give me ten minutes. That's all it will take before I'm home. Ten minutes. Come on, you can do that." The locals must think I'm nuts.