Home, James

The waiting continues. I've been at the airport for almost 2 hours standing in a series of lines and answering questions. I spent my last $10 on a ham sandwich and water at the Bangkok airport, so I'm waiting here for Secret Squirrel to pick me up. I didn't realize it would be such a challenge to find a ride on a Monday evening, but I guess that's because I'm used to just jumping in my own car and taking off whenever I please.

The past week has been a tight squeeze budget-wise. I can't wait to get home so I can have access to money again. No matter how much contempt I have for it, I know I must have it to survive. There's no way to avoid that.

Upon receiving my pack from baggage claim, I started to feel depressed. I looked ahead of me to the long line of travelers waiting to have their belongings inspected, and I thought, 'I really wish I was somewhere else'. I haven't been able to get in contact with my mom yet either.

I can't believe it's over already. I'm trying my best not to want to turn the clock back since it's futile to think that way. I'm certain that what I need right now, more than anything, is a good meal and a solid 10 hours of sleep. I feel drained in every possible way. I'll catch up with you all later.
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Huh?

Ok, something weird just happened. After taking a detour away from the regular route, which has the street blocked off, our bus was boarded by some guys wearing helmets and bandannas over their faces. When they started to argue with the driver and fare collectors, passengers began to make a hasty exit. This is where me being black and from the ghetto really kicked in. I had my pack on and was off that bus before I could take my next breath.

The guys on the bus were being trailed by an ambulance. Since I can't understand Thai and no one on the bus with me spoke English (or maybe they did but didn't want to say anything to me), I still have no idea what the hell was going on. There were a couple guys dressed in military uniforms talking to a few passengers across the street, and others took out their cell phones to call and tell someone they would be running late or whatever. I waited until long after the incident to take out my phone, hoping I could try and make some sense of it first.

As we passed more barricaded streets, police presence multiplied. In an area I walked through yesterday, which had also been another surreal experience, it was heavy with uniforms and cops whistling for passers-by to stop looking and keep driving. Yesterday, I somehow gained access to a tent city outside a hotel surrounded by wrought iron security gates. In the parking lot were two Bentleys, an exotic sports car that appeared to be from the 1970's and a handful of benzes.

The tent city people were lying together in large groups under canopies and looked as though they were doing nothing. The strange part is that the area was fenced off, but they still allowed me to walk through. No one could speak English to tell me why I shouldn't...and I did ask. I'm thinking it was some sort of peaceful protest. There is a civil disturbance here between supporters of the king and those who believe he is too corrupt to be in power. It's always the same issue no matter where you are.

Well, I'm on my way to the airport to wait out the few hours I have left in Thailand in the nice air-conditioned terminals. I'm waiting at Hua Lamphong (again) for the train to the shuttle stop. It has been a good trip and I hope to return soon, but I think the signs are all pointing towards home now. See y'all in a blink.
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Well Whatta Ya Know

The old cranky disgruntled German dude from the retreat told me something that has turned out to be true. I showed him one of my mosquito bites - red, hot, swollen up the size of half a golf ball and firm like a muscle - and he said that once you stay in a place long enough, you stop having an allergic reaction to the bites. His theory was that I would have to remain in Chaiya to develop immunity to its mosquitos' venom, but it appears that it works throughout Thailand. The mosquitos attacked me when I got off the train this morning before I reapplied repellent, but the bites haven't swollen at all. In fact, they don't really itch that much either. I guess it's not of much consequence since I'm leaving in a couple of days, but I find it fascinating.

There was a quote on the back cover of the book we were given during the retreat. It was from Buddha, so it said. This is not exactly verbatim, but it went something like this. When a person becomes deeply devoted in his faith, he discovers that all religions are in essence the same. I remember that above everything else I read in that book.

My room here at Roof View Place is similar to the guest house, but this place is very well maintained and each room has a TV, air conditioning and a fridge. There is a balcony that looks out onto Samsen Soi 6, another of Bangkok's many bustling alleys. There is a biker bar across from the hotel. The balcony has a clothes drying rack and line, so I washed all of my clothes. It is so hot that most of them are already dry.

I didn't make it to a temple because all the ones on the map are a little further than I wanted to walk in the heat today. I found a hole in the wall cafe and had a late lunch after checking in and dropping the pack in my room. I'd waited too long to eat, so I just came back to the hotel and did my laundry instead of wandering the streets.

I was out on the balcony hanging my clothes when I noticed a beautiful gilded roof just a few buildings over. It appears that there is either a school or temple a few steps down the alley in the direction opposite from the main street. I'm going to investigate that in the morning. If it's a temple, I may run into the monks walking around with their bowls. I wonder if they'll eat Clif Bars.

When I go to sleep three nights from tonight, it will be in my own bed. Oh wait, maybe not. He he he. Did I mention that I think The Rock is freaking gorgeous? The Star Movie channel loves him this week, and I am loving the Star Movie channel. Thank you satellite television.
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Dirty, Crowded Bangkok

Once again I'm at my familiar perch outside the train and metro stations, but the homeless guy on crutches isn't here. There was a European guy panhandling for cab fare, which he was generously given by some Thai travelers and the last 10 baht from me.

It's just before 8AM, and I have several hours before I can check in at the hotel. I have just enough money left to feed myself and get back home, so I'm gonna wait here until time to catch the bus across town. No shopping, no spa. I gave some thought to just walking there, but my pack is significantly heavier than it was last week and it's going to get hot in another couple of hours. I want to go to a temple today, but not with this heavy ass bag.

Some dude asked me for a cigarette. After lighting it, he started talking to me, but of course I have no idea what he said - lol. I thought to ask him where I must stand to catch the 53 bus (I have it written on a slip of paper in numbers and Thai letters in case I get lost someplace where no one speaks English), but I figured I should probably let him be on his way sooner rather than later. He may be crazy. Also, if it requires a walk, how the hell is he supposed the give me directions if he doesn't speak English? I'm not following anyone anywhere.

I didn't sleep very well on the train last night. It was rocking a lot, and I kept feeling like I was going to roll out of the top bunk and fall down. Every time I woke up I checked the clock and only an hour or two had passed. That was annoying. It was also unusually noisy with restless people walking around and talking all night long. The guy across from me was snoring, belching and farting. A little girl in the spot beside him was sick, and she passed the night coughing, sneezing and whining - poor thing.

I don't care where you are - dogs look funny wearing clothes. I know that sounds random, but some lady has her dog here in a multi-colored daisy outfit. Ridiculous.

I feel sticky from mosquito repellent, and I want a shower but I'm not going to use the station showers when I know I'll have a private one later. To be honest, I'm sick of waiting for everything. I'm not very patient. It's going to take more than this one trip to change that.

Although I'm not ready to be behind the wheel in traffic again, I am ready to go home. I miss always knowing where I am, what there is to do and how to get there. I am learning how to traverse this city, but speaking only English is a huge hindrance.

I'm really enjoying Alex's book. I'm almost done reading it. The author makes me want to find some way to hit the road for an extended trip.

I wouldn't mind living in Thailand for a few months, Chiang Mai specifically. I could take a Thai language immersion course and some cooking classes. The treks have too much of a gawking tourist feel to them, but I'd like to have a go at the motorcycle tour through the countryside. I'd like to go with boys so we can race. LOL! Some things never change I guess.
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More Waiting

I'm getting good at this. I have three hours before boarding the train back to Bangkok. I was just sitting here at this cafe with my iced coffee and listening to the Thai radio station when I noticed that my thumb is peeling deep in the corner where the nail growth meets the cuticle. It reminded me of something I'd purposely forgotten to save myself from unnecessary grief and worry.

I think I mentioned that the retreat grounds were a breeding ground for mosquitos with its stagnant ponds and multiple open wells. It was also a breeding ground for fungus since everything was always wet, and chemical disinfectant or cleanser usage is minimal (except in the bathrooms). I'm a bit of a germaphobe, so I had to get over myself rather quickly. I even tried to lessen my soap and lotion usage while I was there to help protect nature's delicate balance.

On the 6th day, I started to worry about parasites again because my thumb had been gradually swelling and had become tender in the aforementioned area. When I used my lighter to light my lantern that evening, it throbbed. I dismissed it as bruising caused by using the unreliable lighter, but I had the nagging thought in the back of my mind that no amount of striking could have made that lighter the culprit. I thought about that movie where The Rock was warned not to pee in the water because parasites could swim up the urine stream. It freaked me out for a little while. Eventually I told myself that, no matter what happens, I wasn't going to die at this place. No one has ever had to be rushed to the hospital in the organization's history, and I certainly was not going to be the first.

The next day, after finishing my chore of wiping down the tables in the cafeteria after breakfast, I started poking at my thumb again and feeling it to see if it had gotten any worse. It had, and it was starting to take on a greenish tinge. I noticed a little hangnail sticking out between the edge of the nail bed and the cuticle. I pulled it out and a bubble of thick yellow puss sprouted from where it had been. I felt the nausea pass over me, I stopped in my tracks and began waved my hand hysterically for a few seconds. I gathered my wits, told myself to slow my breathing down and keep walking. I took a tissue out of my pocket, pressed it against the opening and squeezed my thumb against it.

It was disgusting - truly. However, I could rest easy that it hadn't been a parasite after all. It was just a fungal infection, and I had stocked my pack with everything I'd need to treat it and keep it from recurring. From then on, I said screw the delicate natural balance. I used soap on everything from the tables I cleaned to the floor of my cell (yes, I said cell because that is as close as I ever plan to get to being in prison). I bet I looked incredibly foolish all lathered up in my sarong every day after lunch, but I didn't give a rat's ass how I looked.

I'm sure my incessant cleaning and disinfecting made me run out of mosquito repellent even faster, but I had no choice given my obsessive personality and my determination to ride out the entire retreat until the very end.

Well, I made it. Good for me - lol. Now if I could just focus some of that will and determination into something more practical.

I can't help but wonder how this experience is going to change my life. I have to keep reminding myself to stay here in the moment. This might be the last minute, the last hour, the last day. It would be a shame to waste it fantasizing about what may or may not happen tomorrow.
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More "what is that" Moments

Most train stations are seemingly nothing but a strip mall of lean-tos created from scrap metal and plastic banners tied together. Although the majority of these stalls are booths selling a variety of wares and food (scary), some of them appear to be residences. Many homes look like abandoned buildings ready for the wrecking ball, that is except for the brand new car in the driveway. I wonder how someone living in a dilapidated shack can afford a Lexus SUV. Hell, I can't even afford one!

Dogs, cats and chickens all live together here without conflict. Most of these animals are expected to stay out of the way and entertain themselves. Some of them don't receive any care. They wander around, free to roam wherever they please. They are so accustomed to being ignored that they don't really know how to respond to human attention. I pet one at the monastery in Chaiya, and for the rest of visit he did annoying things like chewing on someone's backpack and digging holes - making sure to always stay where I could see him misbehaving. The monks don't believe in chastising animals because they are only behaving naturally. Mmhmm. I found myself having a conversation with a dog outside one of the temples here in Chiang Mai. He seemed to understand me better than any of the people I spoke to that day. He sat there paying close attention while I talked - looking at me with his head cocked to the side when I started to mumble and wagging his tail whenever I glanced at him.

The way people ride motorcycles and scooters here is just plain crazy. You can see 3 people and their groceries all on one bike. They dip between cars, through oncoming traffic and on the sidewalks. They sometimes ride the wrong way on one way streets. At least 90 percent of them wear helmets, and there are surprisingly few accidents. I don't think I could ride here because it's just too dangerous, but I've felt relatively safe as a passenger.

I've got a blood smear and the remains of a large insect on my sock and inside my shoe. Was it feasting on me or just taking refuge in my shoe when it met its end? Is this my blood? Did I take my malaria pill today?

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bringing it back

As I am approaching the end of my trip, I'm trying to jog my memory of all that has passed before my eyes and through my ears. I'm sitting in the hotel room in silence thinking about the retreat and the fears and concerns of others who attended with me.

The fears are always the same; we're either wondering how something will affect the future or if something from the past can be forgiven or recaptured. The most popular concern of the retreat attendees is, "what is going to happen when I get back home?" We wonder how we will be able to reconnect ourselves with what we have over here when we are back over there. Really, it makes no difference. Over here, over there, I am who I am regardless of my location. If I make the choice to embrace the calm and peace of a simpler life, no change of scenery or spoken language will deter me. Most importantly if I hit a bump in the road, it's just a bump.

There is no age limit on the pursuit of what makes you happy. It doesn't care if you take a break or start over from the beginning. It doesn't need to be perfect. It doesn't compare itself to someone else's happiness. It just exists, even when you can't see it or touch it. It is waiting for you to stop punishing yourself. it will wait as long as it takes...even if you never show. I keep telling myself this because it is the only way I can really feel free.

The irony in being a human is that we have such awesome potential to create our own destinies, but we choose to spend our lives competing and acquiring things that, in the end, we don't even really want. I mean, everyone (including me) says they want to have enough money to not have to worry about money, but that's an unrealistic concept. The more you have, the more you absolutely must worry about it. The more stuff you have, the more time and energy you spend maintaining and looking after it. It owns you. One day you wake up, ten years have just vanished, and you're still greasing the wheels of the machine. I used to think of it as sad or depressing, but it's not simply black or white - good or bad. It's no use hating it because I can't change the world. It's no use loving it because the very thing I love about it can be gone tomorrow. I can control what I do and that is all. It's crazy that I've spent so much of my life either purposely or accidentally being out of control when my self is the only thing I have any measure of control over. That's sounds like a one way ticket to insanity. No wonder teenagers are nuts.

I've been thinking about this with increasing frequency, even before the trip - many years ago long before I started working at CB&C. I said I wanted a small farm in a rural town where I knew all my neighbors and could live a comfortable and peaceful life as the town weirdo. Every town has one and I figured if it was me, that would be one safe and friendly town. It might be boring, but I could always shake it up a little with some of my kooky antics, especially if that was expected of me.

Now, I'm not sure where I belong, if there is such a place. I'm starting to think that a quiet place is better for me to visit than to live in. Maybe I can take some of that quiet with me back home and give everybody a little piece of it. It is so nice, you guys. At home I never get a chance to sit in uninterrupted silence and just watch the leaves fall from the trees without any upcoming appointments or any time limits. I watched them so long that I think I may have fallen asleep with my eyes open. I slept deeply and never worried. I think that's a fair trade for a little boredom, don't you? I want to come back again next year. I gotta remember to bring more bug repellent. My legs and feet look like they went to war and just barely made it out alive.

Maybe having a small farm isn't such a bad idea. I just don't wanna shovel cow shit. I could become a vegetarian. LOLOLOLOL! Yeah right.
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