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.