"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.

What a terrific day today. I started off with a trip on the scooter in order to watch the sunrise. Granted, things did not go as planned, I was still able to find a nice spot to enjoy the spectacle. I didn't make it to the View Point that's listed on the map but it's probably better that I didn't. It likely would have been crowded with other tourists if I had. But rather, I veered off of the road and found a spot that was completely secluded and I had it entirely to myself. I mean, it smelled absolutely rancid (… that seems to happen from time to time in Thailand,) but the sites were well worth it. The fleet of old, run-down long-tail boats made for nice foreground subjects. I also found a cozy little swing that had been attached to the branch of a tree: perfect front row seat.
Another benefit of getting a bit lost is that I discovered a vegetarian place. See, things are hard once again. I was so into the groove of where to go and what to order in Chiang Mai. Now, in a new location, it's back to square one. Plus, people tend to speak less English in Phuket than they do up north. I'm not sure exactly what I ate but it was yummy and I was promised that it contained meat or fish sauce. Sometimes I just have to take their word for it. Then, it was on to Wat Chalong which houses thirty-six individual Buddha's. I witnessed some fantastic views as the morning prayers echoed through the valley as they were being pumped through loudspeakers throughout the temple grounds. One of my favorite temple activities is to catch glimpses of shimmering sunshine off of the mirrored mosaic rooftop serpants. I got some good ones this morning.
Situated nearby, is the famous "Big Buddha." Known as the best viewpoint in Phuket, I was able to enjoy some of the surrounding scenery both during the windy trip up the mountain as well as once I reached the summit. But the sun was hot as hell so I underwent several additional applications of sunscreen. The 60-million Baht Buddha image is (after twenty years,) still undergoing completion so it's fascinating to see the project partially finished. There's a smaller Buddha image — behind the main one — which appears to be completely supported by a few cables strapped to its larger counterpart. I'm not sure if the added support is necessary due to the recent flood damage or if this is simply an intended phase of completion.
Continuing further south, Clare introduced me to Jungle Curry (a blend of curry which has a water consistency because it contains no coconut milk. Traditionally it's made with wild boar but certainly not my veggie version.) Accompanying lunch was a tour of the luxurious amenities of Sri Panwa Resort located on the Panwa Cape. No words could possibly describe the magnitude of beauty inherent in this setting. The facilities are so well-designed and beautifully maintained. The lighting, the audio, the horticulture: every detail has been met. After lunch, I was treated to a dip in a private salt-water pool, a nap in the sunshine, and an outdoor shower suspended over a pond with lily-pads and fish. Incredible.
The plan was to finish off the day with a Bikram class but the 7pm class was canceled for some holiday. Of which holiday prevented me from attempting to mend my unusually short hamsrtings, I'm unsure. In place of yoga, I spent the evening further exploring Patong which is known as one of the most tourist-infused beaches in the country.

Letting go

I woke up early this morning. Yeah, there's certainly a lot going on in my head at the moment. Today is the very last morning that I'll wake up here at Ban Ruan Jai. It's the last time that I'll wake up to the nocturnal noises of the city. It's the last time to experience all of the wonderful attributes of this city.

I'm going to miss it all quite a bit but I think I'll especially miss some of the terrific people whom I've met over the course of the month. I'll miss everyone from school, both staff and peers. I'll miss my reliable Green Papaya Salad master. I'll miss my spunky kombucha brewer. I'll miss the guy who runs my guesthouse (and his adorable mother and father who always greet me with a language-shattering morning smile.) I'll miss my bicycle buddy. I'll miss the bell on my bicycle and how I ring it with the intentions of just saying "Bring-bring … good morning" rather than "Bring-bring … get the hell out of my way!" I'll miss my acupuncturist. I'll miss the wise and caring guy at the herb shop. I'll miss the random people on the street whom I recognize and see over and over again. I'll miss the incidental people whom I meet in the park who tell me that I look familiar before realizing that they've taken my Bikram class on the Upper East Side. (Small world example number one-thousand, three hundred and sixty-four.) I'll miss serendipity. I'll miss what's become of four weeks of research and exploration of this city. In such a short time, I've created quite a little network for myself. I was tempted to skip the beach altogether and to just stay here for my remaining two weeks in Thailand but I've been promised how much I'm going to love the beaches. So, off I go.

I wonder how similar things will be in the south. I wonder how prepared I'll feel based on my experiences up here. I wonder if my myriad travel-lessons will come in handy. In an earlier blog post (from February 6th … almost exactly one month ago,) I mentioned my train-mates and their attitude toward the four-hour delay in the train arrival into Chiang Mai. There's just an easy mentality, in this city, surrounding expectations and outcomes. It's a nice lesson in yoga. It's an easy life … an easy way of living.

There's a particular energy here in this city. Perhaps it's due to the fact that there are so many explorers. There are so many people, away from their respective homes, seeking new experiences. There's a certain mentality here. I see it in NYC among the tourists … the people who are on vacation. You know that mentality: the people in Times Square who are pointing and gauging, completely oblivious to the agitated New Yorkers who are aggressively trying to get to where they need to go. That same lightness is present here among everyone: both travelers and locals, alike. The natives don't necessarily have a lot here but they're happy. They're happy to wake up early and work hard for seemingly very little monetary reward. Though their lives are filled with obstacles and hurdles, they make it all look quite easy. They make it work. They don't let things eat away at them. Perhaps it's because this city is packed with so much inherent spirituality. People seem genuinely happy. This trip must be doing something for me because one friend thinks I'm "relaxed" and the "travel-type." She was surprised to hear that it's my first trip and that I have truly no previous travel experience. Another friend was convinced that I was lying about being from New York. She saw some sort of easy-going spirit which she swore had come from the opposite coast of the United States. She said "You've got to be from California." I've been riding my bike a little bit slower. I've been surviving without the use of a cell phone. I've been taking things as they come. It feels nice. I suppose the trick is to either make travel accessible (so that we can experience things like this more often in life,) or to make the benefits last upon returning home … to incorporate some of this fantasy life into our real lives.

So, I'm leaving all that I've created and all that I've discovered. But that's OK. It was three weeks ago, that I was sitting at dinner with a peer who mentioned how nice it was to reach an age where one has finally unearthed the ability to be alone ... without being bored. Obviously, I'm sharing this with all of you and clearly, you're all in my thoughts often. But I'm alone; I'm on my own. So I must leave this city and move on to Phase II of my trip: VACATION!!

Flight info: Thai Airways #129 (CNX) Chiang Mai ➤ (HKT) Phuket Monday, March 5th: 1:40 PM - 3:35PM. And now, back to packing. I'm already five kilos over my permitted baggage allowance so I've got to figure out how to bring some of that light mentality home with me … but without contributing to the weight of my luggage.

Master Sinchai Sukparset

Blind massage therapists are a big thing in Thailand. We were taught that back home at Swedish Institute … that blind men were historically, the first people commissioned as massage therapists. It only makes sense. Aside from probably being one of the only occupations available to them, the blind are thought to have a superior sense of touch. So not only are they extraordinarily skilled tradesmen, but it also offered employment in ancient times when there was not much else available to them. And it only seems natural. When I work, I try to picture the muscles and soft tissue structures beneath the skin. I've seen them in the past on cadavers but I'm unable to see them on the client. So I use my skills of visualization in order to work the structures. And who among us gets the most practice at visualization? Blind people. Massage has been used as a form of treatment in traditional Chinese medicine since ancient times and blind practitioners seem to have historically been the pioneers of the field.

Ajarn Sinchai Sukparset is known as Thailand's true Master of Massage and is recognized by the local population and medical community as Chiang Mai's most competent and experienced practicioner of Therapuetic Medical massage. I went to visit him for a massage last night. Sinchai was busy teaching class when I arrived but I was put in the competent hands of his one and only assistant, Khun Dee-ow. The office space was dingy and quite literally, a bit scary. But the massage was good. His methods involved no stretching whatsoever (which is traditionally a major component in Thai Massage.) It was exclusively point work. He had some interesting techniques. For instance, one of the methods that we use to apply pressure is with double-thumbs. He chose to support the active thumb with his palm rather than his other thumb. It created a nice blend of simultaneous specific and generalized pressure.

Dee-ow obviously had a heightened sense of touch which also seemed to magnify his intuition. Without me divulging any cat-out-of-the-bag information, he knew that I was a massage therapist. I never imagined that my body could tangibly receive massage any differently than anyone else's but apparently, I was giving off some sort of subtlety upon which Dee-ow was receptive. He used a sort of "caterpillar finger" technique to walk his way along my body finding specific points along the way. He told me that he enjoyed working on me because I had "good muscles." Sweet.

He had a talking watch. It was a bit disturbing every time he'd activate it in order to figure out the time. I consult the clock constantly while I'm working in order to continually adjust my plan of action. But I'd be embarrassed if my clients knew how often I was checking in on the time. He was good about it though. I had the feeling that his time-management was right on target from beginning to end. The interesting thing was that his watch was speaking in English: "The time is 7:13pm." Why, I wonder, would a person — whose primary language is Thai — choose to use an English-speaking watch?

Since arriving in Thailand, I've had several professional massages, two acupuncture sessions, and taken a yoga class. Not once has a waiver or intake form passed before me. Things are just done differently here. I suppose if there were a significant number of toddler injuries from motor scooter accidents, we'd see less toddlers on the motor scooters. But we don't. They just keep on doing things the way that they've been done since the beginning of time (presumably.)

Once again, it's a small world after all. Sinchai's class came to an end during my massage and as the students poured out of the classroom, I came in contact with one of the instructors from my school. She was taking a course from the blind master. She didn't recognize me on the floor, but after she said her goodbyes to Dee-ow, I said "Hi, Sarah" and she was just as surprised to see me there as I was her. Is anyone keeping track of the number of times I've randomly bumped into someone that I know? I've lost count.

A Food Holiday

I hope that you're not tired of seeing my food photos yet because you're about to get a helping of food-talk as filling as my meal. I could continue to talk about the Thai food here for hours and hours. Here's some truly interesting stuff. I made my way out to a restaurant called Krau Ya. It was well off of my usual beaten path but well worth the journey. My generous host proclaimed for me that it was an official "Food Holiday." He started me off with a Rosella Drink and a Lemongrass Juice. Both were delicious. The Lemongrass Juice gets its brilliantly blue coloring from an Asian legume called a Butterfly Pea. It's in my juice and it shows up later in the meal as well. The naturally refreshing lemongrass taste made this juice particularly perfect for the hot weather.
Next, came the Kanom Jeen Sao Narm. The dish is centered around a pile of rice noodles surrounded by fresh pineapple, ginger, chiles, and garlic. The dish is sprinkled with fresh lime juice. I was encouraged to mix all of the ingredients together. Now you and I have all eaten these ingredients on their own, but the combining of each of these unique flavors makes for a truly new and exciting experience. There's little more that I can say about this dish that will do it any justice at all; you really have to try it for yourself. I was warned that it may be an acquired taste but I loved it right off the bat. Sweet and spicy, pungent and smooth: probably the most exotic and interesting taste I've encountered so far on my Thailand journeys.
Added to that was my staple Thai dish, Kao Mun Som Tum (Thai Papaya Salad with Steamed Coconut Rice.) It's the dish that I've had most frequently over the course of the past month. My host Aon, is the son of the woman who opened this restaurant twenty years ago and it's been in the family ever since. I had the pleasure of meeting his mother and enjoying this dish which has clearly been perfected over the course of the twenty years. It was delightful. And after having coconut rice a few times here in Thailand, I doubt that I'll ever be able to go back to regular old rice again. To add a little twist to my usual Green Papaya experience, Aon hooked me up with some Deep Fried Greens (including Butterfly Pea and Chinese Coriander,) which I used to scoop up the papaya and noodles (which were drenched in garlic, chiles, lime juice, soy sauce, and tomatoes.)
I was considering this to be the completion of my meal until I was convinced to also try the Kanom Jeen Narm Prik. On one plate, you'll see the delicate nests of rice noodles supporting tiny hard-boiled eggs. The second plate contains more deep fried greens as well as some banana blossoms and a star-shaped vegetable which I'm pretty sure is okra. All of that is drizzled with what you'll find in the bowl which is a sauce made of roasted mung beans. And why not? After all … it is a food holiday!

Big Weekend Trip!

This past weekend, I decided to skip town. I started my journey off with a morning trip to Wat Doi Suthep. This temple is located on a mountain high above Chiang Mai 15 km from the city. This temple is known for its impressive views but my tactic of arriving early to beat the crowds left me with a pretty foggy view of the city where I've lived for the past three weeks. There's a legend involving a white elephant who climbed up Doi Suthep carrying a remnant of Buddha's shoulder bone. The elephant died here which signaled the King to build a temple at the site. I climbed 309 stairs to reach the spectacular gold-encrusted chedi at the top. The mountain was likely quite a bit more difficult to climb in the days of that white elephant.

Pure Radiance

On my way to the temple, I stopped off to see Monthathan Falls … the first true waterfall that I've ever seen. [A few years ago, I hiked for a while in order to reach a waterfall but the combination of my inappropriate footwear and my time constraints prevented me from reaching the pot of gold.] It was so peaceful to be there so early in the morning, all alone, marveling at the serenity of the moment.

From there, I ventured to Radiance Restaurant, which is known as one of the best vegetarian places in the region. The setting was lovely and the food was fresh. I was able to add two more Thai dishes to my repertoire: Yum Ma Khua Yao [Spicy Thai Eggplant Salad with Thai Spicy Sauce] and Yum Ma Khua Yao & Phad Kha Phao [Stir-fried hot basil with Veggies.] After lunch, Google Maps led me down some pretty horrific "roads" before finding my way to Wat Takham. Once there though, I didn't stay long for fear that I was at risk of being attacked by two angry dogs. The incessant barking of the one dog seemed to be a signal that back-up was needed. When his other vicious doggie friend arrived, that's when I decided that it was time to bolt. But I managed to snap a few quick shots before fleeing the scene. There have been a couple of times that I've been frightened while traveling alone and both times involved angry dogs.

762 Curves

Next stop was Mork-Fa Waterfall which was so much bigger and more impressive Monthathan. There were a few others swimming at the foot of the falls and though this is one of my dreams (to stand beneath a roaring waterfall,) diving beneath its forceful torrent didn't turn out as planned. The $1.98 pair of shorts that I purchased the day before were still in the trunk of the car. Earlier that morning, Monthathan Falls were not nearly large enough to allow for swimming so I didn't really know what to expect. I guess I could have gone skinny but the others may have been a bit disturbed. I decided to spare the women and children from such a horror. But I did get a chance to poke around at the opening of the impressive "Bat Cave." Lacking the courage to enter into the blackness alone, I enjoyed the view from afar.

I would have returned to the car to get my shorts if it hand't been for the desire to make it to my accommodations before dark. The windy roads up the side of the mountain made for an intense drive even in broad daylight. The crazy minibus drivers from Chiang Mai — who had no regard for the use of individual lanes — added another element of danger to the scenic, yet daunting commute. It's said that there are 762 curves on the way from Chiang Mai to Pai and I maneuvered every one of 'em with grace and finesse.
Driving under those conditions is one of my favorite activities. This trek made California's Route 1 seem like a walk in the park. It was truly Strawberry Fields Forever as I got lost among the winding streets. It was clear that some of these weren't even public roads because the strawberry farmers would interrupt their work to stare at me with a confused look as I continued forth with blind faith in Google Maps. Some of those "roads" are barely passable. At times, I was worried that a boulder would gouge out the rental car's engine from below. It was that bad. I'm tempted to forgo a flight to the islands in exchange for a 12-hour drive. We'll see what I decide in the end.

My very own treehouse ... for a night

I did ultimately make it to my destination: The Pai Treehouse Resort. It's true: on Saturday night I slept in a tree. This resort offers several different bungalows and three of them have been constructed directly into the structure of a beautiful tree. It was phenomenal. I slept, showered, and even used the toilet … all up in a tree. Of the three tree-housed bungalows, I booked early in order to reserve the tallest unit. It was certainly roughing it a bit. But armed with lots of blankets and lots of insect repellant, I was able to soak up all that nature had to offer. It was pure bliss the entire time. I spoke to my niece on her sixth birthday last Saturday and it completely blew her mind that it was daytime where she was and nighttime for me, on the other side of the world. I was hoping to do another iPhone FaceTime session with her while up in my tree but the WiFi connection wasn't so great. She would have loved the treehouse. What can I say … I had a toilet, hot water, and bed in the tree. We'll have to improve the quality of that wireless connection before I visit again.

Welcome to Pai

And Pai was such an awesome little hippie town. There were cafes and health food stores and rather than unidentifiable meat and deep-fried everything on the streets, you could find vegetable skewers and mushroom soup. It rocked. I was also able to snap a few colorful photos of Wat Luang in Pai. I mentioned the unsafe conditions of some of the roads on the way up to Pai but let's take a moment to discuss the bridge here in town. There's a bridge which straddles the banks of the Pai River. It's made completely of bamboo. It's designed only for pedestrians but every time someone crosses it, the entire structure bends and creaks. I can only imagine how many stoned hippies have been jolted from their blissful buzz on their way home to their bungalow as they realize that they've fallen off the bridge into the chilly nighttime water below.

a good friend in Pai

I made a good friend in Pai. His name is Tat Lao and he's an elephant. We spent two hours together, trekking through the trees, climbing a mountain, and frolicking in the river. I chose an elephant camp which was probably not the most ethically responsible but I took some time to justify it for myself. Tat's trainer, Joi, lives with the elephants at the camp. He spends the majority of his time working with and caring for the animals. As Joi was speaking, I had a hard time deciphering when he was speaking Thai, when he was speaking English, and when he was speaking elephant. I'm pretty convinced that Joi was part elephant himself. There's another camp which allows the elephants to roam in their natural environment but this camp in Pai satisfied more of my needs at the moment. Plus, the money that I spent went toward supporting the people who work in this tiny town. It allows them to make a living. However, the next time that I'm in Thailand, I'll definitely be going to The Elephant Nature Park. (And to justify even further, I've visited a vegetarian restaurant a few times which financially contributes to the Nature Park.)

Tat Lao & Pong Duad

I've gone on and on about how small this world is and how incredible it is to run into people that you've met on a train or with whom you've encountered on the busy streets of Bangkok. It happened again. This time it was while I was fifteen feet off the ground upon the shoulders of an elephant. Tat Lao and I were galumphing down the road when someone passed on a motor bike. It wasn't until after doing a U-turn behind us, backtracking toward us, and removing his sunglasses that he called up to me. Here I am, three hours away from home, on the back of an elephant and I run into a guy from the first week of school. Crazy, right? I mean, I know that when there's a destination listed in the guidebook, that it's likely that everyone will go there. But really? At the same time and in the exact same spot? I also ran into another kid from school the night before on one of the walking streets. We shared some mushrooms and a cocktail.

Though I was trying to make it back to Chiang Mai during daylight hours to see if I could score a better view from the mountain, I did scurry 24km off the path in order to check out Pong Duad Geyser. It was well worth it. Never before have I seen an active geyser. The particular hydrogeological conditions necessary to form a geyser exist in only a few places on Earth, so they are a fairly rare phenomenon. As surface water works its way down to come in contact with hot rock, the hot spring at Pong Duad spurts out steam 4 meters above ground. I was able to bathe in that same hot spring water after playing with Tat Lao. The facility offers hot spring-fed baths. Since I've encountered nothing but stand-up showers since Tyoko, this was a refreshing alternative.

Big decision

I made a big decision last week. Faced with the conclusion of Level III, I realized that I have so much material. Way too much material. The curriculum at school is similar to the curriculum at Bikram Teacher Training in that you learn a whole lot and are never afforded the opportunity to put it all together. I currently have enough Thai Massage technique to administer a six-hour massage. And though that might be lovely under certain conditions, what New Yorker is going to find that to be practical? Imagine trying to allot six hours out of your day in order to do something wonderful for yourself. So rather than follow through with Level IV — which focuses specifically on the acupressure point work of Traditional Chinese Medicine which I already know from my Shiatsu training — I decided to graduate one week early and spend my last week here in Chiang Mai devoted to putting together all of the pieces and getting in some much-needed practice. It was a big decision for me because it could be interpreted as me giving up in a way. But I don't believe that for a minute. I'd much rather return to NYC having had time to practice and become comfortable with these new methods. After all, you're all going to want to book some Deep Root Thai immediately upon my arrival, right? So I'm spending my days formulating a general massage routine that will work for my clients (upon which I'll add on to custom-tailor,) practicing the moves, seeing more temples, and knocking a few more of the incredible vegetarian restaurants off of my list. So, in an official sense, I've graduated! I'm done! And rather than clouding my brain with doing well on an exam, I can focus on becoming good at the actual technique. Yay for no more coloring of diagrams. It's a good thing too because my colored pencils were getting tinier and tinier by the day. But now … less typing; more practice.

Her name was Mee and she worked wonders.

Upon a recommendation from an acquaintance back home, I visited the massage office of Lek Chaiya. Currently 70 years old, Lek has developed her own style of Thai massage unlike any other teachings in Thailand. She calls this form of massage "Nerve Touch" distinguished by its deep tissue approach to muscles, tendons and nerves for full body massage and specialized therapy. For many generations in Lek Chaiya’s family, the traditional Thai Healing Arts have been handed down from mother to daughter and Mama Lek began her training with her mother. 'Nerve-Touch' is a method of working which is deeper and more therapeutically oriented than typical, Northern-Style Thai Massage. My therapist's name was Mee (one of Mama Lek's desciples,) and she worked wonders.
Mee had a way of using different parts of her palms in order to generate completely different effects. This mays sound like a simple concept — and of course, this is something that I practice all the time — but she was exceptional. She accomplished the same thing by using her whole foot one aspect at a time (as if she was pressing a gas pedal,) on my hamstrings.
Between she and I, language was not a commonality yet we were communicating the entire time. She was 100% receptive to my needs. There were noises coming from my joints which I had never before heard coming from my body. My joints were singing her praises. My belly has been hurting since yesterday morning and she somehow had the intuition to conclude this. She used an herb-pack on the floor, with me lying face-down on top of it. She was massaging my low-back while the hot-herb pouch was massaging my little Thailand-Tummy.
She did some things of which — as a massage therapist — I never would have thought to do. She pronated my hand in order to work my palm in sidelying. She hooked her extended toes superior to my sacrum as I layer supine and interlocked my fingers around her back. These are moves that are not taught in school. She rotated my pelvis with such finesse as she suspended me by one leg and one arm. The way that she finished with a towel as a tool to rotate my head into various positions: it's techniques like this which I will never forget. I think I may know someone who will be studying with Lek Chaiya in February 2013.
Coming to Thailand, it was my intention to incorporate two of my passions: yoga & massage. To be able to incorporate yet another one of my passions (the heat … yes, it's somewhat absurd that heat is a passion for me but as you know, it's something that I take quite seriously,) would be incredible. I hope that you guys don't miss me too much because I think I may know where I'll be this time next year.
(OK … you got me. The above photos is the first that I've posted — either here or on FaceBook — that is not one of my originals. I ganked it from Mama Lek's website.)

Cooking instead...

No more massage for the moment. Cooking instead.
We started off with Pad Thai, of course. We used rice noodles collected from the market around the corner. We were able to obtain all of the ingredients that we needed from different merchants all found only two blocks from the house. We used two different types of tofu. The first, was what you'd generally be able to find in The States … just your regular, run of the mill, firm tofu. We cut this into little rectangles. The second type was cured with turmeric for a yellow color on the outside. This variety, we diced finely. The Thai variety of garlic is much smaller than to what I'm accustomed and in Thailand, they generally leave the paper on. I used soy sauce in place of fish sauce and mushroom sauce rather than oyster sauce. Chinese chives, bean sprouts, egg, and water. The heat element was situated as such so that we could tilt the wok to a 45° angle in order to allow parts of the dish to remain on the side of the wok while cooking other parts. I've always used this technique with stir fry by the 45°-angle tilt makes it so much more effective. I think I'm going to try to find one of those wok rings so that I can try this at home. I particularly liked the ground peanuts and chillies that we sprinkled on top.

After sitting down to eat the first course, we went back to the kitchen for Hot & Sour Soup. The dish traditionally includes chicken and prawns but I substituted with oyster mushrooms and tofu. There were a couple of ingredients that were used for flavoring but were not intended to eat. Those included kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass, and galangal which is a root grown in Thailand which is similar to ginger. If you know me at all, you know that I'm a huge ginger enthusiast. I was excited to try galangal but it's definitely no replacement for my one true love. This recipe includes those super-hot little chiles. Here, they call them mouse-shit chiles. Hilarious, right? Now these can be quite dangerous for the novice but I decided to use six for the soup. It turned out pretty spicy, for sure. But not just spicy for spicy sake. It was tasty and complex with a whole bunch of heat at the end. Added to the pot were mushrooms, onion, tomato, lime juice, soy sauce, sugar, chiles, and chile paste.

Moving on to my absolute favorite Tai dish: Green Papaya Salad. We learned a fancy way to use a huge knife in order to shred the papaya which is actually only green because it's harvested early … which is what I suspected. (It's one of the many questions that I asked. I seemed to be the only one engaged enough to ask lots of questions.) Since the knife trick was a bit scary, we were also provided with a zig-zag vegetable peeler if we preferred to stay on the safe side. There were only two cooking injuries for the evening: a burned finger and chili peper-oiled eyeball. Neither of those incidents involved me though. We used a big, wooden mortar to pound and "cement" (as they call it,) garlic, chiles, and long beans. Knowing that this dish is raw, I chose to use only three chiles as opposed to the six that I used in the soup. After pounding in some lime juice, soy sauce, and tomatoes, we created a bit of a dressing in which we could dissolve the palm sugar which is not related to the cane plant at all but rather extracted from the flower of a palm tree. (That is another tidbit that I learned which was spawned from one of my questions.) It's a very dense, sticky paste which has a much fuller body than the refined sugar with which I'm familiar. We added the papaya and some carrots then pestled away. Watching the people on the streets, you can tell that it takes some practice to master the pestle-and-spoon combo technique. When five or six people join in together, it makes for a bit of a meditative musical jam session. Finally, we topped it with peanuts. All done. The whole Papaya Salad process was much simpler than I had expected it to be. It's so rewarding that I now know how to make my favorite dish. It's a good thing that there were tissues at the table 'cause this one was a-spice-aaaaayyyy.

And onto the main event with the Panaeng Curry. We started by making our own red curry paste: soaked red chiles, shallots, garlic, galangal, lemongrass, ginger, kaffir lime leaves, coriander root, and turmeric. The stuff that we avoided eating in the soup (kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass, and galangal,) went right in 'cause we pounded the hell out of 'em with the mortar and pestle. (I've got to get myself one of these.) We used a wooden set for the Papaya Salad because it's a more delicate process. We used a granite mortar for the paste in order to truly pulverize the ingredients. I used tiny eggplant instead of pork. It's called Pea Eggplant because it's so small; it adds a pretty tart flavor to the curry and they sort of explode in your mouth like a grape tomato. Into the hot wok went paste, Panaeng spice blend, tofu, and coconut milk. We squeezed our very own milk from the flesh of a mature coconut; it smelled so good. (I imagine it didn't hurt in moisturizing our hands either.) After allowing the mixture to thicken a bit, we added soy sauce, palm sugar, and ground roasted peanuts. The chiles for spice, the lime for tart, the coconut for smooth and creamy. It's perfection.

I met some great people and learned some priceless skills. So … when are y'all comin' over to my place for curry, huh?

Do you speak English?

I stopped in at another temple today. I passed it last night on my bicycle and took the time to jot down the location so that I could find it again. There was something special about this one. You must be thinking "What is he talking about? There's got to me something special about every temple in Thailand." And surely, there is but you have to understand that temples here are a dime a dozen. They're just about as prevalent as Starbucks in NYC. (Did you know that there are 200 Starbucks in Manhattan alone?) I didn't know anything about Wat Lokmoli because it was not mentioned in the guidebook but I'd say that its claim to fame is the absolute shiniest Buddha image I've seen. But more exciting than any of the temple amenities was the experience that I had within the walls. I played tourist by taking lots of photos but then I settled down at the end of a long table to do some studying. An hour into my work, I found myself surrounded by six Buddhist monk boys ranging in age from 11-13. They were enthralled with my work and seemed to want nothing more than to watch. I exhibited my freshly-polished Thai Phrase: "kun pôot paa-săa ang-grìt măi?" [Do you speak English?] But none of them did. So I continued to color diagrams with my colored pencils and they continued to watch. Later, another boy came over with a composition book in hand. He was a bit older than the others and had clearly joined the group in order to communicate with me. He proudly showed me the composition book filled with English vocabulary words. He's been studying English for two years and speaks beautifully. His name is Thep and he's been living at this particular temple for about a year now. He told me that he grew up in Mae Hong Son and I replied with details about the trip to that area that I have planned for next weekend. It was a delightful conversation. He was clearly excited to practice on someone and I was interested in the life of a monastic thirteen-year-old. He wanted to know all about the methods that were being used to teach massage. I tried to explain to him that it was likely very similar to the way that he was learning English. I am learning a new vocabulary of massage moves just as he is learning a vocabulary of words. He used his translation skills to help get Cha-Cha, the puppy, to pose with one of his friends. As I was observing, I came to believe that these boys are probably a lot more like you and me than you may initially think.

I realize that I've mentioned very little about school thus far. It's going pretty well. There are frustrating days, of course. Yesterday, for instance, I felt as though I was doing everything wrong. Every time that I attempted a massage stroke, an elder would have to come over and adjust something or cordially nudge me aside so that they could demonstrate the correct approach. It's quite a lot of material to absorb in a short amount of time. But it does feel quite good once I'm able to get the technique into my body and to start moving with some grace and fluidity. Last week, I completed Level I with a score of 96%. Most of my peers appeared to have created quite a bit of anxiety surrounding the examination but I was surprisingly pretty calm. One of the instructors warned me that existing massage therapists tend to put the most pressure on themselves compared to the rest. In addition to massage, I'm learning a lot about how I can maneuver around first impressions and how I can sift through judgements and stereotypes in order to find something redeeming in a person. For the most part, the people are accommodating and respectful. There are a few exceptions but I'm getting along quite well with most of the kids there.

It's taken me about two full days in order to finally get that single Thai phrase into my vernacular. Learning a new language is not something that comes easily. I've known that since the days of Señora Crane and Madame Regli in Junior High. But I'm doing my best. I find it somewhat disrespectful and self-centered for me to expect everyone around me to speak my language. So I'm trying to nail down some critical phrases one at a time. But Thep (the boy from the temple,) was a hell of a lot more fluent in English than I am in Thai. The only things that I can say with any sort of confidence are "hello", "thank you", "yes", "no", and "do you speak English?" I'm packing my brain with Thai Massage (as I'm packing my belly with Thai food,) and there's very little room in there for anything else. But I'll try to acquire a few more important phrases over the course of the next few weeks. The street names are a completely different story. Learning to pronounce them is impossible for me. For starters, each street is often spelled at least two or three different ways. And you never quite know which is a variable spelling and which are two separate streets. For instance, in the center of town, you'll find the intersection of Ratchamankha and Ratchaphakhinai and you can also find each of them spelled differently depending on where they're listed. Streets are rarely labeled, to boot. Here's the full explanation from Lonely Planet. "The Thai word thanon means road, street, or avenue. Hence Ratchadamnoen Road (sometimes referred to as Ratchadamnoen Avenue) is always called Th. Ratchadamnoen in Thai. A soi is a small street or lane that runs off a larger street. So, the address referred to as 48/3-5 Soi 1, Th. Sukhumvit, will be located off Th. Sukhumvit on Soi 1. Alternative ways of writing the same address include 48/3-5 Th. Sukhumvit Soi 1, or even just 48/3-5 Sukhumvit 1. Some Bangkok soi have become so large that they can be referred to both as thanon and soi, e.g. Soi Sarasin/Th. Sarasin and Soi Asoke/Th. Asoke." Ugh!!