From: "Jean Kefferstan" 
Date: February 23, 2006 11:18:35 AM EST
To: "mmairs" 
Subject: RE: thailand/myanmar/laos part the second
Reply-To: catgutcove@earthlink.net

Dear Matt, love your letters. Elaine asked had I written you and I  
didn't
imagine I could, you are so far places from my ken, but she said  
there must
be a coffee house where you are sitting and getting my note saying love
your letters and living every bit of it and miss and love you. Hear  
all the
rest when you come back! love, Jean


> [Original Message]
> From: mmairs 
> To: wombat 
> Date: 2/18/2006 5:35:46 AM
> Subject: thailand/myanmar/laos part the second
>
> In which alternate dimensions fail to produce real time...
>
> Time compression.  I do not have time to tell you everything.  Here's
> what I have time for.
>
> Well crap, if I ain't been to busy living to write.  What did we eat?
> Snacked on shrimp chips that Parsan brought over.  P is Steve's
> personal thai massage man.  Sweetheart, not much more english than  
> I've
> thai.  Then we all go to our favorite restaurant.  I take the Jaguar,
> Navin the Yamaha and Parsan takes Steve on his Honda.  We stop at the
> edge of the highway because I'd said I wasn't sure I wanted to do  
> the
> whole drive after all that hiking, but I feel fine.  Parking is  
> sort of
> funny; Parsan doesn't know we're regulars I suppose because he's
> concerned they might not like my parking job.  I understand not a word
> of the conversation, but the gist is clear; I would have to try much
> harder for my parking to be unacceptable.  S has the green curry, N  
> has
> a salad, P has something gai and I have the basil fried rice.  The  
> fact
> that it's barely two days later and I'm having trouble recalling  
> what I
> had but remember the green curry isn't so much damning of the rice as
> worshipful of the curry.  Dispicably good.  We all decde to shoot a
> little pool at NP and this time I ride with P.  He and I had split a
> large Chang and I feel the drunks should hang together.  The ride  
> is no
> more eventful than usual, meaning a random mix of acceleration and mad
> braking as conditions change from moment to moment.
>
> Those who do not know may as well; I am a terrible pool player.  Just
> really awful.  One could say uneven if one was being kind, I do
> understand the theory and at miraculous moments might run two or three
> balls.  But then I can go many shots without coming close, Even  
> missing
> with the cue ball entirely from time to time.  This inspires Navin to
> call for cue ball misses resulting in one misser's ball returned to
> play, and I was happy to agree.  The irony was that the only other
> player who's had any such misses was N.  Parsan is good.  Really  
> good.
> I don't know why I suggested team Mairs, but we don't do that  
> well.  P
> is not only very accurate on his own balls, he's aggressive about
> knocking others' out of position.  Steve is better than I, probably a
> little better than N when he's in the pocket (pun intended?) but  
> he's
> no match for P.  The psychology of pool is just as fun as the physics.
> Since I know I suck I am unphased, having my standard mix of somewhat
> difficult shots, easy misses and little runs, but Steve is shaken.  By
> the second game I sink as many as he and by the third I sink more.
> There is also an asian aspect to the psychology with which I am
> unfamiliar, but which really does interest me.  In the second game N
> tells S if we don't shape up we'll lose face.
>
> This is a trip, if I may was colloquial.  If one is not very good at
> something but tries anyway, is this failure?  Is he referring to the
> fact that if Parsan weren't so incredible Steve might have his  
> regular
> game?  Is there an insecurity at work here that is worth exploring?
> It's not my place to psychoanalyze N, nor do I have any right to talk
> about his background without his permission, but I must disclaim that
> he's had enough difficulties that he may not be representative Khmer.
> Not that I'm representative Bostonian, Arizonan, New Yorker or  
> whatever
> mold I should fit, nor Steve a Maineiac nor Parsan Thai... but some
> generalizations about our cultural mores can be drawn from our
> behavior.  I know I need to visit Cambodia, I wish there was time on
> this trip, but N is a window into a world and I can't tell how
> distorting the glass is.  How can a Buddhist even think about face?
> He's so enlightened in so many ways, is it just a joke?  I don't  
> think
> the tone is entirely jovial but I am through a second large Chang
> shared with P and moving into the third, my own glass is definitely
> warped.  Are the Korean and Japanese who commit suicide over face
> forgetting what original face means?  Or is it just a rationalization
> the media uses to explain away that many of us men do like to off
> ourselves?  Another point to study... do the statistics really say
> anything?  Are we losing face?
>
> The obscene part of this is the utter inequity I feel about our
> livings.  I am no smarter that Navin or Parsan, but the ratio of our
> incomes and resources is shocking.  I am less hard-working in  
> fact.  My
> knowledge base is obscure and highly valued, but that's no excuse.
> What is face in this case?  I want N to win if it makes him feel good.
> I don't want him to gloat or think less of Steve, but I could care  
> less
> about winning.  So what's the reconciliation?  Of course I won't  
> bring
> it up.  And of course P wants to pay for his own beer and cigarettes.
> But what is pride in relation to face?  Where does self-importance fit
> in?  Why can't we all just have a nice ego death and get on with it?
>
> By the third game we have all sorts of rules.  One is standard;
> technically we won the second game because they scratched the eight  
> but
> they don't know that and we don't care.  So we have an explicit
> scratching the eight ball rule, the cue misser's returned to play  
> rule
> and a sinking opponent's ball returns one of your own to play rule.
> It's fun and funny.  It hasn't raised the level of play at all, in  
> fact
> Navin manages to sink one of ours and get one of theirs back, but  
> it's
> just pure pleasure to see Parsan sink shot after shot so effortlessly.
> And he's rather tipsy.  A lot to be said for motor programming.  Who
> needs a brain?
>
> Steve wants to show me a CM dance club.  Parsan wants to go home.
> Navin is up for clubbing.  So I ride with S while N tries to navigate.
> A parking lot guard points us on our way, then some moto kids hanging
> on the street, then we're there.  Hotel Pirnping.  Park in the motos,
> pay the cover and head downstairs.  Tepid by NY standards.  Much
> standing around.  Very likely not much drug abuse.  Techno sort of  
> mix.
>   It fills gradually.  I get a finger of the red for my cover ticket.
> Bathrooms are upstairs, standard CM cleanliness.  Grungy looking but
> not too odiferous.  It fills more as we sit.  The lightshow verges on
> quaint.  I'm in the perfect spot for periodic mirror ball laceration.
> S dances a bit and we gear to go.  The motos are now completely  
> buried.
>   We have to move others' bikes to get free.  I guess it's standard
> behavior since no one pays us any mind.  Home again home again,  
> jiggedy
> jig.
>
> Almost done with my grapes.  Coffee ritual now familiar.  PBJ.   
> Time to
> hit the road.
>
> Dereliction of duty?  Maximum compression then.  Have to write a week
> in a day.  No thing, day an hour?  Cuddna write on a motocy.
> Evaluating the 125 for intercity distances.  Take the 1001 north.
> First stop, Wat on the right.  Humungous.  Gaudily gold.  The guardian
> dogs have less than stylized assholes.  The dragons vomit dragons in
> the simple single dragonned style, but o so colourfully.  Shoot,  
> shoot,
> shoot.  Walk around the back field a bit, hunting for the angle.   
> Is it
> football?  Assume, no goalposts ot net, what do monks like to  
> play?  Of
> course they share with the kids.  Haven't seen nearly as much  
> football
> as bachi.  And nothing at all here.  Back on the road.
>
> Pass a sign for a cave.  I'll catch it on the way back.  Severe
> jiggling.  The moto is fine at 100 clicks but a day of this and  
> I'll be
> jello.  Mild hilliness.  Hard to keep up speed.  Many bonfires.   
> Mostly
> bamboo but something else familiar... tobacco?  Burning sappers?   
> Would
> Thai do such a thing?  Get more bang for the buck from their infernal
> weed?  Might be time to think about gas soon.  Another Wat on the
> right.  Gypsies at the gate.  Flowers, incense for buddha?  Whyever
> not?  Head in.  Chapel easy to find.  Long oval walkway.  Walk up the
> right, hope that's right.  Realize incense, flowers forgotten, walk
> back down left.  Or right as the case may be now.  Back up better
> prepared.  Such is the extent of my conviction that I take the right
> again.  Walk past the king, ditch shoes, spend a moment wit da man.
> Verdagris impinges.  The king was so nice and shiny, interesting to  
> see
> Shakyamuni turning black.  Hold back a piece, never know what else is
> here.  Back down the right again.  I should do one more circuit for
> good measure but don't.  Arbitrary time constraint, must see as  
> much as
> possible by 1500.  Hop on the Honda.  More Gypsies try to sell me more
> stuff.  Enough stuff, stuff saved even.  Down the rough, rough  
> road.  A
> choice, uphill right, level left.  In retrospect I might have taken  
> the
> right, the best stuff is always uphill.  But the petrol situation is
> nearly critical.  Left is a ruin.  Sealed with a gate.  Get some pics.
> Beautiful, not utterly fallen, still some colour.  Press on.   
> Trying to
> socialize with a pregnant dog brings wrath of entire pack.  Putter
> along in first.  It's very rough ground and they don't seem all that
> intent on killing me.  But the wall ends, the ruin is disappearing in
> forest and the petrol will not get me up the other way I fear.  So  
> back
> to the gate.  Ask the gypsies, -where petrol?  -Just there, they  
> reply.
>   Head for just there.
>
> I now realize that I am driving to Phrao.  More than halfway there.
> 1500 will be out of the question, turn around by 16 at best.  But more
> to see.  The vacant gas station.  Little buddha on one pump had his
> rice and water.  I'd pay and pump but the pump is locked.  Avail  
> myslef
> of the facilties,  Standard asian squat toilet.  Pan flush, do so.
> Here's an outbuilding, walk around swamp/garden to get to it, locked.
> Yell.  Nothing.  Back around garden, man comes jogging to pump.
> Greetings and explanations, he unlocks and I open up.  Gassified I  
> move
> on.  Truck pulls in before I get my helmet secure.  Pull around and  
> let
> them in before fastening.  Back out rough road.
>
> Then yuck bridge.  Slats and boards, pick your poison.  One no fun for
> moto, other deadly.  Taken a little too fast it winds up with that
> alternate foot shooting landing, but fine.  Cows.  Floating houses.
> Shoot.  Phrao soon.  More mountainous.  Can't keep up speed.  Poor  
> lil
> 125.  Coming down again.  This is Phrao?  A one wat town.  Eat my rice
> crackers on the curb.  Shoot the wat.  Say hi, hi, hi.  Back on the
> bike and heading southish.
>
> Same mountain issues.  Not enough power going up, not much compression
> braking going down.  But fine handling.  And not much gives me the
> visceral pleasure of biking a mountain so I'll safely say I was
> completely there then.  Biker buddhism?  Siddhartha Guatamoto?  I
> didn't make it up.  Well, the latter mebbe... the concept rings true.
> You'd better be in the now when you're going entirely too fast on a
> device that is more safely looked at than used over roads you don't
> know going somewhere else.  Even in traffic there's biofeedback and  
> all
> that, but here... did I mention digression?
>
> No large events.  Hills conquered, Gas station and second Wat passed,
> time to quest for cave.  And quest.  And quest.  Eventually in some
> banana fields I come to the conclusion that I've missed some crucial
> sign and stop for smoke and pics.  O well, did pass a cuppla wats,
> shoot them on the way back.
>
> 1001 north of Steve's is more urban than it is at his turnoff.  I  
> note
> I didna note this previously.  Ah well, lucky I remember anything from
> last week drinking from this firehose.  But around his turnoff  
> there's
> a mile or more of not much of anything.  City starts at the hospital
> which is at the intersection of the superhiway to the south.  So what
> is this pocket to the north?  Chiang Mai?  Don't think so.  Must map.
> Shops, congestion, overpass with images of the exalted... empress is
> she?  Queen?  At any rate, popular overpass material.  So back down
> through this as I came up.  To find Steve's on the first try.  Well,
> almost.  From the north I always miss the turn and wind up having to
> pull into the next and drive the wrong way back the moto lane.  But
> once in the hood I do good.
>
> Navin makes a pork and shrimp thing.  Really excellent.  I don't like
> shrimp, generally.  I like these.  We stay up late watching TV we  
> don't
> understand interrupting the Daily Show.
>
> The grapes have mysteriously dissappeared.  I do hope they got et.  I
> fear they suffered a worser fate though, they were getting soft.  I
> should have said something, black grapes seem to get better softer.
> But I will never know the story.  Just one of those things.  So,
> banana, coffee, muesli.  Steve joins during coffee.  Ablute.  Mission
> of the day... get a confortable bike,  Standard CM invasion tactics.
> 1001 south past superhiway to... erm... that thing; right and over the
> bridge... pretty sure it was s'posed to be over the bridge but I just
> lost S.  Retrace.  No sign.  Cell phone.  -Meet back there?  -Nah,
> press on, I suggest.  I commence a vast circumnavivivigational
> wandering of CM with nary a sign of center city.  south, west, far too
> far each, come back to the superhiway, north will give me a sign.  And
> it does.  Now rotating around the outer ring, stop in what I  
> believe to
> be the northeast corner.  Call S.  Meet in inside NE corner.  Not
> trivial.  Center CM design pteradactyls particularly sadistic.  Two
> concentric rotational opposite directional squares puncuated randomly
> with the opportunities for u-turns.  Or death.  I take u-turn.
> Northeast inside it is.  No S.  I did say he might as well get early
> lunch, I wasn't really hungry yet; while I looked for the Shope where
> I'd got the 125.  Walk south.  See bikes I'd like.  Walk souther.
> Bikes like the 125 but not exactly.  Think I'm running out of Moon
> Muang road, so head back up.  I am once again less than perfectly
> parked at our favorite restaurant, so sit on the moto and call S.
> He'll be there momentarily.
>
> Have a smoke.  Steve arrives.  Suggests going outside around the  
> corner
> from Moon Muang to take u-turn/suicde option back in before MM so we
> don't miss any of it.  Brilliant.  We find the shop.  I've lost my
> paperwork.  Does that surprise anybody?  Fine, give helmet, keys, get
> passport.  Drive back up together, me on S's moto now. Try to start a
> bidding war between people with bikes I like.  Hard because there's
> only really one.  But patience and negotiation gets it down to a  
> little
> over $10 a day, I'm just commited to ten days.  Which is what I  
> wanted
> anyway.  I now have a 200 cc Honda which doesn't sound like much, but
> is worlds better in suspension and has coaster bars.  Which are no
> great advantage in CM.  But will be on the road.  S wants a lil more
> software.  We park in the front of techmall this time and in we go.
> Eye out for camera still, but interest diminishing.  Cher's beast  
> takes
> a great pic and it's not quite as painful as dragging along an  
> aircraft
> carrier.  Quite.  S gets his software and we're off to “european  
> sub”
> for lunch.  Pull out the cukes nand eat ‘em as chips.  Drink?  Lost  
> to
> the sands of time.  Lemon shake?  If possible...
>
> Afters hang for a bit with Steve.  Talk the talk, look for rough silk.
> Not happening, though I teach him the static trick.  Decide we'll  
> meet
> for dinner if possible as I want to take the 200 exploring.  I go in
> search of Doi Inthotep.  Searching, searching, searching... sign here,
> sign there.  Now I'm headed into Chiang Mai.  Standard Thai U-ie...  
> on
> the right... searching... gots.  Rien.  Squat.  Fill ‘er up for the
> first time.  Search a lil more.  Dinner time approacheth.  Head north.
> Well, now this doesn't go that well.  The pteradactyls insidiously
> designed a five dimensional intersection between where I am and  
> where I
> want to be.  I slip through the space time continuum and wind up in a
> residential neighborhood.  I am naive, I am ignorant, but I am  
> learning
> the hard way.  Euclidian geometry does not apply in Chiang Mai.  Maybe
> not in Thai?  We shall see... so lost.  So very, very lost.  Find a
> hiway at last.  Head north.  Not feeling good about this, stop at a
> roadside restaurant.  No Ingrit.  Me no Thai.  We hammer it out with a
> map.  -1001?  O, go that way!  -Khop khun khrap!  Opposite where I was
> going of course.  U-turns are our friends.  Head north on 1001 for a
> lil while.  This desolation is turning into the wrong civilzation.
> Another U-ie.  Do you think I make the turn on the first try?  You  
> know
> better than that!  But in the hood at last I'm there.  S doesn't  
> feel
> like eating, just had a massage, Navin feels like clubbing.  I nosh
> some shrimp chips and potato chips and we head out to meet at the
> bazaar for pool, N will roll from there.
>
> I don't get all that lost.  Really, I don't.  I find Night Bazaar
> almost immediately, after one false stop.  But it's big.  And what I
> don't know is that our regular parking spot is on a one way alley.
> Damn pteradactyls.  So I park on a major thouroughfare and start
> asking.  -Rock climbing?  There's a rock climbing wall in the same  
> area
> as our pool table.  -The bluffs?  Ain't no ladies but chicken girls
> there.  By the pizza hut.  He points.  Don't suppose he's pimping?
> It's a quarter of a mile to the pizza hut.  By the time I find our
> table there is indeed noone but the chicken girls.  Move the bike into
> the alley, take another look.  No luck.  So I have a beer with them in
> the vacant hope that Steve will materialize.  No such luck.  I  
> actually
> close the place.  Midnight.  CM.  Another world... only slightly
> nerve-wracked that they were closing the assault shutters on me.   
> Quite
> friendly anyway.  Off I zoom.  I don't get too lost and make S's by
> 1230.  He's closing up shop.  My luck he hears me pull up and  
> let's me
> in.
>
> Banana again.  Coffee with Steve.  Meusli and utter determination to
> find Inthotep.  It is not easy.  Don't go to the airport.  Well, go  
> to
> the airport mall, get a compass and eat sushi, but those signs saying
> “airport - inthotep'?  Cruel pteradactyl ruse.  Ignore them.  You  
> will
> wind up on a dead end in a miltary base with a kindly but amused
> sergeant explaining that this is not Inthotep.  Not exactly where to
> find it, you're on a dead end after all, but do got the other way.
> Now.
>
> Chiang Mai is fast approaching.  Yesterday's experience tells me this
> is not what I want.  U-ie.  Pteradactyl sign again!  Thank goodness I
> have a compass!  Bet those dinosaurs didna expect that!  I know
> Inthotep is south, damn your foul signs.  South I go.  Another  
> Inthotep
> sign.  Ah, success is sweet.  Get gas, roll on.  It's not all that
> near, is Inthotep.  Many litlle urban and suburban areas to pass
> through before even getting the foothills.  But here they are.  And
> this, if I may wax colloquial again, is one mother fucking mountain.
> Tallest in Thailand some say.  Looks pretty serious to me.  Bike says
> -okie fine.  Coming out of the foothills there's a wat.  Stop for  
> pics
> and a smoke.  Bike says -chomp, foo!  That's a four-hundred some  
> degree
> manifold you just touched!  I still have the burn over a week later.
> Back on and back up.  They charge me two-hundred baht for looking
> stupid or white or whatever it is that makes it obvious I ain't from
> around these parts.  But I got some pretty tickets for it.  Pass a  
> gift
> shop on the left.  Don't think so, my admission already supports you,
> Doi.  Pass a sign for a cave on the right.  The road is so rough we
> can't do it, swerving, kicking up rock, miss the 125 for a minute.
> Park and walk a little bit, it's clearly not too near here.  I get  
> the
> 200 out the same way I got her in.  Badly.
>
> Rock and roll on up that hill.  Swirchback, view, switchback, view.
> Better view every switchback.  Getting a little cooler too.  Passing
> villages.  That's right, if I weren't such an ignoramous I could  
> have
> convinced the ranger I lived up here!  Next time.  Still getting
> cooler.  Realizing I don't have the SEV.  Don't have nuthin,  
> actually.
> Getting a lil cold.  Must press on.  Maybe a village clothing store?
> Do dream on.  I'm not turning back, this mountain is my oyster now!
> Erm... words to that effect.  Getting just a bit too damned cold  
> when I
> come to the visitor's center/gift shop/military base.  Gift shop only
> sells tee-shirts.  Bummair.  I can't tell the information center from
> the military base and no one seems eager to dispense information.   
> Then
> I see some girls in a concrete kiosk.  I accost.  -I am up here with
> insufficient sleevage and find the gift shop... anyone speak ingrit?
> The english girl does evidentally.  -There's a gift shop at the  
> summit.
>   -How far is it?  -About 15 kilometres.  -Any idea when they close?
> -When do they close?  she asks one of the thai.  -Six, she  
> replies.  It
> is 1745.  -Guess I drive fast I reply with disarming idiocy.  And  
> drive
> fast I do.  I manage an average speed of 60 which means that I should
> arrive at precisely 1800.  If I do they're not admitting it.
>
> -Come back tomorrow.  I head down disheartened.  And _really_ cold  
> now.
>   Back at the base I stop on the other side for some reason.  I think
> because the universe wants to teach me a lesson about needs and
> accepting what is given.  The old man speaks no english.  I speak no
> Thai.  He is, as best as I can tell, potted.  I have no idea what his
> duties are, if he's on duty, if his duties preclude being potted or  
> if
> perhaps they require it.  But he makes sense of my pointing at his
> coat, plucking my arm-hair and shivering, and gets me a coat.  But  
> it's
> a very nice leather coat, and in my process of trying to tell him I
> want to pay for it he loses patience with me and puts it away.  I grab
> the bike to bring my money to him but he's vanished.  Back to the
> miltary gift information shop I go.  Wherein I receive none of the
> above.  The Thai military had better have a dossier on this wierd cat
> by now, they'd better.  Not even any feigned interest here though.
> Girls gone.  Pteradactyls can have the damned gift shop for all I  
> care.
>   Back across the road in search of the old man.  Knock on his door.
> Sam comes out of another building.
>
> Sam and I talk for a while.  Where I am from.  What he's doing here.
> Where the old man went.  If the old man really exists.  Who's shack?
> Unclear... what I'd give for that coat.  How long S has studied
> English.  How long he'll be here.  Nice to meet you.  Farewells  
> take a
> long time when one is scrupulously polite.  I don't mind.  More
> politeness would result in less murder as far as I'm concerned.  And
> I'm not in any hurry to return to freezing.  But all good things must
> end.  At last every possible goodbye is exhausted and I am on my way.
> The question, in this scenario, is whether to maximise loss of therms
> in quest of time or versa vice?  I try for balance.  Endure maximum
> shivering that doesn't lead to loss of motor control.  I come down
> okay.  But still not warming, my core's out and I need fuel.  No  
> longer
> cooling though at least.  The trip back to CM is an interesting bit of
> misery.  Somewhere on the mountain I have left my sunglasses.  The
> helmet that came with this moto has a visor so pock-marked I can  
> barely
> see through it.  So not only am I slightly hypothermic but my  
> vision is
> alternately wind-blind or visor blind.  I use a tactic of opening the
> visor and slowing in dark patches or when on-coming traffic lights it
> into opacity and closing it and making time when conditions  
> permit.  It
> doesn't take me any less time to get off DI and into CM than the
> reverse.  I stop at a roadside market for some pastry.  I stop at a
> second hand shop for a long sleeved shirt.  I stop for a burger with
> Chad, Phen and Phon.  I stop at Night Bazaar for a beer with the
> Chicken Girls.
>
> I decide against trying to make S's by 100 and grab a guest house.
> Okay, to tell the whole story I do try, and am so lost by 1230 I know
> CM center city's the easy target.  Yes, I found the fifth-dimensional
> pteradactyl interchange again.  This time it spit me out into an
> entirely different residential district.  And, just in case you  
> thought
> I was exagerating, this time I wound up on 180 east of 1001.  How  
> is it
> possible to go from the west side to the east side of a road without
> passing that road?  I do not have an answer my friends, you must ask
> the leathery-winged ones... I have travled some ways up 180, it's
> almost 200, when I realize where I am.  I'm going to Doi Suket.   
> That's
> where I'm going tomorrow, not tonight dammit!  Get this fourth
> dimension back in order... my compass explodes, flying into the night.
> I roll to a stop, park, walk back.  What are the odds of finding it?
> Immaterial, I do.  U-ie and back down to CM.
>
> Nice enough place.  Not too clean, not too dirty.  Only complaint is
> lack of towels.  The fleece shall suffer for it, it shall.  Rustle up
> bananas on the street and head north again.  Explain absence to Steve.
> They have grocery running to do so I grab the bathroom; didna have my
> essentials at the guest house.  S plans to go work on his Doctoral
> application so we've said farewell.  But he returns with Navin when
> I've finished prepping for the real road trip.  They've bought too  
> many
> groceries for N to handle on the moto so S brought them in the truck.
> They invite me to stay for chicken and potatos.  I do, making a PBJ  
> for
> the road while I wait.  And continue packing.  Yeah, mebbe I forgot
> something.  Or two.  The chicken's excellent.  The potato is... a
> potato.  Unusually large, but potatoey.  I love potatos but mainly
> because... well... they just are.  Could be an Irish/existentialist
> thing.  I have to hit the road.  I'll take my leftover potato too.
>
> It's a long way from Chiang Mai to Chiang Rai.  Just over a hundred
> clicks as the pteradactyl flies but a bit longer as they design their
> roads.  And I want to make Mae Sai by dark, half again as far.   
> Through
> Doi Suket.  Doubling estimates, four hours is good.  Of course I have
> to stop at the Wat.  The buddha is three freakin stories tall, you  
> want
> I should ignore him?  It's beautiful, peaceful, get's me ready for  
> the
> upside down car I'm about to pass.  Driver's out, explaining to  
> cops.
> -OK?  I gesture at my camera.  No one minds.  I very much empathise
> with this driver, many of you know.  My upside down car adventures
> while not entirely tragic were not this easy.  He's good.  We talk a
> little.  Just skidded, rolled into the ditch.  No, I can't give him a
> ride, he has to wait for the cops to come back, figure out what to do
> with the car.  I'd suggest calling the pteradactyls but that's just
> between you and me.
>
> Stop for a pic of an amazing peak.  Look back and there's a corn  
> lady.
> Buy three roasted ears on sticks, eat one with corn lady.  Sitting  
> in a
> platform over a cliff.  Roof too short for two meter man to stand.
> Lose a little corn.  Pick it up when done and throw it in the
> cliffbushes.  Corn lady gives me what looks like a little apple, no
> charge.  Tastes like an apple.  Has a pit.  She tells me what it  
> is.  I
> forget.
>
> So on I roll.  Another wat appears.  I want to shoot it but my
> appearance has caused some sort of small riot among the  
> schoolchildren.
>   Retreat, sit in a rest pagoda, have a smoke.  A guy walks by and  
> eyes
> my bike and luggage.  -Sawadee is all I can say, almost literally, and
> he moves on.  I'm not going to try another attempt between the  
> rioters
> and the eyeballers.  Roll on.  Dirtland.  Red dirt.  Soedonaesque,
> those of you who know what I'm talking about, except that Sonoita is
> under invasion.  The dirt is taking over.  Foot long ruts across the
> road, patches everywhere.  Close the visor for good and hope for the
> best.
>
> Chiang Rai is good sized.  It lacks the intense downtown of Chiang  
> Mai,
> but it doesn't lack traffic intensity.  I stop at what looks like a
> small festival.  It is, in fact, some sort of auto-dealership opening.
> Very festive, really.  Did I mention another world?  This is the
> evening event, everyone who's anyone is here.  Of course I could be
> wrong, after all I don't know anyone, but luminaries keep introducing
> greater luminaries and I just wait and wait hoping some luminary will
> introduce one of these bands.  Plaques are handed out.  Speeches are
> given.  No bands are brought up before my attention span expires.   
> Roll
> to an indoor/outdoor market.
>
> Swap meet sort of thing.  Very large warehouse type of building  
> with no
> walls surrounded by more regular sized market buildings.  The outside
> buildings have your regular sort of fare, meaning everything, and the
> inside building has food.  Fresh food, dried food, dead food, live
> food.  And buddhist magazines.  Looks a little duskish so I should try
> for Mae Sai.  I'm there at sunset.  Stop at a restaurant.  Smells  
> good
> but early for me.  -Guest house?  -Follow, go left she tells me.   
> Doing
> so does not produce a guest house in any form I recognize.  Attempting
> to retrace my steps puts me in a completely different place.  It's
> getting dark.  Likely candidate... pull into the yard and ask -guest
> house?  - Just a little on the left.  On the left, always on the left,
> whichever direction I am going the guest house will be on the left.
> Seem impossible?  Well, I am quite certain I do not find that guest
> house.  They said just a little and I'm halfway back to Chiang Rai  
> when
> I do finally find one.  It happens to be on the left.
>
> I don't wrangle over food or board.  You can go somewhere cheaper,
> order something more reasonable, get a simpler room.  I do the latter.
> No ingrit no thai we work it out.  I also order a soda that has a
> picture of what looks like a green bean but which tastes like peyote.
> If I knew what that tasted like.  Nice room, fourth floor walk up.
> Views of Mae Chan and Chiang Rai out front and back.  Time for dindin.
> My god, what arrigance I possess.  Not that this should be news to
> anyone, but really, going to a real Thai restaurant somewhat off the
> beaten track speaking not many usefull words.  What inspires a man o
> such acts fo idiocy I wonder as I debate running down the list of
> dishes I know by name or picking at random from the menu.  The  
> waitress
> grabs a guest from another table who may know some english.  He knows
> fried rice, mhm mhm, what else?  Well we all know tom kha gai  
> evidently
> which is good because it's my favorite.  This would have been more  
> than
> enough.  But I don't know if they picked out my earlier attempt at  
> pad
> keong prik gai or if they awarded me the special stupid white guy  
> award
> but I got three dishes.  Too much food!  And if I say too much Thai
> food it's prolly a safe bet that it is.  I manage to demolish the  
> rice
> and the pad but I'm approaching Mr. Creosote proportions when I start
> on the Tom so I have to communicate -to go.  Somehow it works.  I get
> my soup in a bag and waddle home.
>
> I have brought bananas.  The girl downstairs makes coffee and lets me
> take it up.  I finish up morning rituals, return her cup and head for
> Myanmar.  Do I really see Tachilek?  Do I see some burmese suburb of
> Mae San?  I'm not sure but I know I can't take my moto.  No rentals
> cross the border.  I go park.  Walk across.  Thai passport control
> takes my exit card.  Trade my passport for a pass at Myanmar passport
> control.  Now this is pretty third world.  I have to argue that
> Thailand isn't.  Everyone's eating in Thailand.  Noone's sick in  
> the
> street.  That I've seen yet.  Myanmar no good.  Even this, presumably
> showcase, not so good.  Hustle in Thailand is friendly.  Don't want  
> it,
> say no.  Hustle hear is more leechlike.  Stuck to me.  Okay, I walk
> around, expand the chinese watch collection.  Give away the remains of
> my springroll.  Give away quite a few baht in small denominations.
> Have one leech in particular I take a liking too, takes a liking too
> me.  Gives me a cigarette to prove they're good.  They're ok, mine  
> are
> just better.  Shows me the best shops.  Friend of his offers me a  
> tour.
>   -In a bit, I say.  We wander the whole plaza.  Same show over and
> over.  -Cigarettes?  Ladies?  Porno?  Again and again.
>
> Exhausting possibilities we get his friend.  Takes me to his dad's  
> tuk
> tuk.  We hit the road.  The friend's name is Phen.  His father's  
> name
> is Phen.  I have forgotten my guides name if I knew it.  The tuk tuk
> can't be 250cc's.  Two guys in the chariot, Phen Sr. squeezing every
> bit of horsepower out of it that he can.  I want wats.  One is easy.
> Flat going, beautiful building.  Go inside, walk around, shoot shoot
> shoot.  Use the toilet.  Clean, but I have not seen one monk.  Back in
> the tuk tuk.  Next wat much harder to get to.  Up a hill.  Three guys
> on 250cc is a challenge.  It makes, it, slowly.  Phen Sr. parks, Phen
> Jr. takes me in.  Buy a bird.  Set it free.  Miss photo op.  Lady  
> poses
> with my cage.  I hope the luck I was promised for the release goes to
> Myanmar.  Check my shoes.  Walk around the pagoda.  There are stations
> having to do with the days of the week here.  Unfamiliar, might  
> have to
> research.  Still no monks.  Back to the bike.  Find I owe 2 baht for
> the return of my shoes.
>
> Long necked lady village.  Of course I'm interested in seeing them in
> person, what National Geographic reader isn't?  But it's on the  
> grounds
> of a resort.  And they charge 200 baht.  I'm paying the Phen's  
> 60.  No
> good.  -Do they pay you anything? I ask Jr.  -No, he replies.  I  
> can't
> do it.  Tuk on.  Eat an ear of corn on the ride.  No idea where to.
> Funny situation.  -Lunch?  Just ate.  -Ladies?  They look like
> teenagers.  Nice smiles but whatever merit I've accrued wat'ing  
> would
> be better spent elsewhere.  -No thanks.  Back to the market.  Tip the
> Phen's three baht.  Insignificant but it's not to them.  One more
> round.  Girl convinces me into coffee shop.  Well, smell of coffee
> does.  Iced mocha.  Perfectly burned.  Ask if I can eat my soup.  I  
> do.
>   Beggars ensue.  Give a few baht.  Out of baht.  Give corn.  Finish
> lunch, head out.
>
> Pass return gets passport.  Fill out Thai reentry card.  Re-enter.   
> Get
> bike.  Head back to Mae San.  Pass sign for cave.  Head for it.  Pass
> wat at a fork in the road.  Most decrepit looking dragon stairs I've
> seen yet.  Wat looks good though.  Prepare to shoot.  Toq is sweeping
> the stairs.  Ask his permission to shoot him.  All good.  Walk back
> down, get shot.  Walk back up, tell him what I'm doing.  His  
> english is
> imperfect but fine.  I learn his name.  He learns mine.  He's not a
> teacher anymore.  He'll take me to a teacher.  I meet a dog.  We like
> each other.  I take off my shoes at the teacher's doot, follow Toq  
> in.
> The teacher is deeper in the recesses of the house, comes out to meet
> me on the porch.  I wai.  Suday as best I can spell.  Don't pronounce
> the ‘q' in Toq, it stands for  a sort of abrupt stop.  Pronounce the
> ‘u' in Suday, very soft, stress on the second syllable.  If memory
> serves.  The following is a dream sequence.
>
> Suday exudes buddha nature.  Toq has it all over, maybe I have an  
> iota,
> but Suday is like... GONG!  Smile.  GONG!  Nod.  He has absolutely no
> idea what we're talking about when we speak English.  I have  
> absolutely
> no idea what they're talking about when they speak Thai.  But  
> there's
> really no translation, it's just a discussion.  I'm sitting on the
> step.  Toq tells me to take a chair.  We discuss being here now.  We
> discuss the fact that I should study in New York since I don't speak
> Thai, and many good monks have come from or gone to New York, there  
> are
> many fine wats.  I speak of my fears for Merka.  We discuss
> Christianity and Islam.  We discuss being everywhere at all times.  We
> discuss the fact that both Toq and I worked for IBM, he in Chiang Mai,
> me in New York.  We discuss why.  Why make money, why make ourselves
> miserable, why divide, hate, kill us.  Why?  We discuss how beautiful
> the wat is, how wonderful the hill is to hike.  How interesting it is
> that some people don't like to hike.  How strange it is not too love
> nature.  Not to love everything, god, yourself.  We discuss good and
> evil.  They laugh when I argue semantics and relativity.  Toq
> rephrases... -wholesome and unwholesome.  Argument resolved.  We
> discuss the unwholesomeness of feet in the asian view and the
> wholesomeness of the head, the spectrum from earth to sky.  We discuss
> how I can take the robe and bowl whenever I'm ready.  I explain I  
> have
> to return the motorcycle.  I haven't given them the focus they  
> deserve,
> I kept thinking about the keys I left in the moto.  But I have got
> everything I could have hoped for.  Toq says he has to get back to
> sweeping.  I thank Suday, deep wai, get a buddha nod.  He floats off.
> We walk back.  The name of the wat is ‘Temple King of Snakes'.
>
> We talk a little on the stairs again.  Where I might be able to study
> around Bangkok.  More English speakers.  I may be of service speaking
> English to them.  Gives me names, I record them because I can't
> remember things.  My motorcycle is still sitting there.  I thank him.
> He thanks me and returns to sweeping.  I putter up the road looking  
> for
> the cave.  This rocky road is a wonderful maze.  I find a groovy dead
> end surrounded by water.  Large leaves make the traction interesting.
> I get closer and closer to the hill, but not there.  I'd park and  
> walk
> but there are houses everywhere.  And kids and chickens and dogs.  I
> find the dead end again.  Out by the schoolyard, the way I came in.
> Back by the wat, take the other fork.  A little ways and this looks
> right.  National park like any national park.  Sort of.  Benches,
> shelters... if not exact remieniscent.  Park by the motos, climb cliff
> steps.  Nah.  Climb back down, follow path.  Bathroom, yay.  Wrong  
> one.
>   Wuddna happen if I could read.  Lady kind enough to point out the
> right one.  National park bathroom, watchagonnado?  Hike on.
>
> Bridge over a creek.  Path goes round.  Take the left, cliffs that  
> way.
>   Trees have something tied to their west sides.  I think it's  
> west, my
> compass escaped for good on Doi Suket.  Approach cliffs.  Getting
> rocky.  Stone sort-of steps.  Ascend.  Take the right.  Ladder.  Take
> ladder up into cave/landslide/ravine.  Four-legged walk landslide.
> Ladder ahead.  Getting dark.  Cross big boulders.  Small stuff now,
> could shift, dark, alone, want second ladder like legs whole better.
> People about, no risk of mortality but no insurance, can't do it.   
> Not
> the first time in my life I've been defeated, not the last.  Back  
> down
> landslide, out cave, down ladder.  Take the right, which is the
> straight now.  Walking along outside of landslide/ravine.  Can sort of
> see where I was.  Spectacularly determined trees.  Outside stlagtites
> maybe, or just fortuitous stalagtite-like remnants.  See the top
> ladder.  No safe way tthere from here either.  Back out, back down,
> watch moon through trees.  Back to bike.  All dark now.
>
> Back by King of Snakes.  Back to hiway.  Back to Mae San.  Back to
> guest house (on the left), ditch pack, clean up, out to dinner.  Walk
> past resturant of ignominy.  Walk through vacant lot.  Minor ravinage
> going on, slightly touchy.  Bigger restaurant.  Menu only in Thai.   
> The
> waiter -what to drink, Heiniken?  -Beer Chang?  Incomprehension.
> -Heiniken?  -Sing Ha?  Quizzical look.  -Heiniken?  -Okay, heiniken.
> Big bottle.  Decent enough, Dutch beer not bad.  Wonder where it's
> produced.  Merkan Heiniken is produced there under auspices, same  
> here?
>   Try pointing strategy on menu this time.  -You want that?  Well,  
> yeah,
> I think so... here it comes.  I do not know what I eat.  Cat lovers
> skip rest of paragraph.  Maybe dog too.  Monkee even?  I chose from  
> the
> section of the menu headed with three letters, the middle I recognized
> as ‘a'.  Thai reads right to left, but middle of three is middle of
> three regardless.  Chicken is ‘gai'.  I expected chicken.  I got red
> meat.  Rabbit like bones, but not rabbit flavor.  Tastes great.   
> Occurs
> to me that ‘meow' can be spelled ‘mao'.  I don't know Thai for  
> dog or
> monkee.  If you finished this paragraph against my advice I console  
> you
> with the thought that perhaps it was a rabbit so finely spiced I  
> cuddna
> recognize it.  I could also go off on a sociological tangent about how
> wrong it is to eat a cow in Hindu eyes, about how all animals were
> domesticated for utilitarian purposes, about how cats eat us when the
> tables are turned.  But in short, whatever it was I promise to never
> eat your cat.
>
> The scene here is indescribable.  I'll try.  Girls on the balcony.  I
> may have made a faux pas sitting on the balcony.  No, here comes a
> couple.  And two guys.  Girls circulate.  Guys mostly in the  
> courtyard.
>   Are they bar girls?  I guess.  Alright, eminently describable.  But
> surreal.  For a western boy who has never seen anything like it.  I do
> not recieve any attention.  Perhaps my silk shirt has me considered
> gay, perhaps falong are notoriously bad tippers,  perhaps no ingrit so
> what point, perhaps my dangerous guy field puts them off or perhaps
> they just don't know what to make of me.  Anyway, sitting up here was
> not really a faux pas and I'm glad I did because I get an insider's
> view of their conversations, elections (or appointments?) and their
> comings and goings.  Fascinating.
>
> Home to my walk up, drink in the views, have a smoke, crash.  Wake  
> with
> bananas.  Girl downstairs evidently doesn't want me to take stoneware
> upstairs again, although I did return it intact, for she gives me  
> paper
> this time.  Do the daily and check out.  I'm going to find Laos.  I
> will do so int the golden triangle.  So I head north again.  I pass a
> sign for The Freindship Bridge but don't think hard on it.  Mae Sae  
> to
> Mae Chaeng, I am certainly in one of the most fertile lands I have  
> ever
> seen.  Burma, Thailand and Laos converged here, with a delta of the
> Mekong.  The foliage is out of control.  I don't think it's quite
> jungle, I mean there are patches that look utterly ingrown and
> impassable, but by and large it's just large, wet forest, huge  
> grasses
> and cultivated fields.  At Mae Cheng I am deadended by the Mekong.  I
> can go left, probably winding up in Burma, or right, hopefully to  
> Laos.
>   Stop to watch the river.  Really massive.  I don't have a huge  
> amount
> of experience with the Mississip, but I will compare there scales.
> Heading to Laos I am offered a road less traveled that might wind up
> there.  Actually, it pushes harder east than the hiway, I'm just not
> sure it will take me all the way.  I'm sure you know what I do.
>
> It is twisted, it is turny.  It goes up, it comes down.  The region
> doesn't look mountainous from a distance but there really is a lot of
> it.  And now I am alongside the Mekong.  The road follows it, now ten
> feet above, now a hundred.  I stop for a smoke and some footage.  Damn
> serious river, that.  I am at a sharp turn.  It is tearing the  
> earth to
> pieces.  Beautiful thing.  Hop back on, see what's next.  Pain!  What
> the hell was that on my leg?  Felt like a wasp but stopped just  
> when it
> started.  I wonder if I killed it instantaly hitting it with my leg at
> 90 klicks, but then how did it sting me, but if I didn't why isn't  
> it
> still stinging me?  No idea, grateful it was brief.  Might have even
> been a pebble but it had that venemous feel.  There do seem to be  
> large
> black flying bugs here, quite likely wasps, I try to balance  
> reasonable
> speed and getting the hell out of their neighborhood.  I find an
> interesting wat.  Not much of a parish to support it, but it's  
> getting
> a facelift.  People must come from many klicks around.  I am glad they
> have a semi-public toilet.  I mean, it's perfectly public, but there
> are monk's robes drying in each stall.  And the faucet doesn't work,
> there's no water in the cistern so I can't flush.  I slink off.
>
> I'm at the end of the road, I think.  Small town, many ferries,  
> sister
> town on the other side of the river, this looks like a crossing.  I go
> wandering up the road looking for a place to leave the bike while I go
> to Laos.  Pass ‘Sawadee Guest House'.  Looks ideal but you never  
> know
> what's around the corner... rougher and rougher road, finally
> dead-ending, as it turns out.  I return to Sawadee.  Shawlee runs the
> place.  It's gorgeous, two story semi-finished hardwood,  
> architecture a
> little sprawling and a little wrapped around itself.  Certainly I can
> store the bike inside the fence, he says.  I may need a room I inform
> him.  I probably will, he replies, it will be hard to get across at
> this hour.  My goal is Luang Prabang per Steve's recommendation.  It
> seems I can choose either fast boat or slow boat down the Mekong, but
> either leaves in the morning only.  If I were in a hurry I could get a
> ferry now and see what I could find on the other side, but I am really
> not in a hurry.  I am very comfortable here and I'm learning alot  
> about
> Lao geography, the Mekong and the Thai/Lao relationship that  
> thrives in
> this area.
>
> There's a ‘Sawadee Guest House' across the river, Shawlee tells  
> me, and
> he's talked to the woman there about working together, but nothing  
> much
> has come of it so far.  He advises me to use ‘Easy Travel' in town  
> to
> smooth my arrangements.  I generally don't use travel agents, but in
> this case: visa, two boat rides, coordination... I'll make an
> exception.  I pay almost twice what all the parts really cost, but I
> don't have to worry about a thing.  Next time I'll do it myself, but
> this time I'll take it Easy.  I have parked my motorcycle on the
> sidewalk in such a way that it is impossible to get it out.  Whee are
> those pteradactyls when you need them?  They may not come this far
> north, population density this low doesn't really require their
> interdimensional hemmhoraging skills.  So I have to recover from my
> error my own damned self.  Heeeave ho, and away we go.  Park it at  
> S's.
>   He shows me my room.  I get the corner.  Heavenly, windows on the
> Mekong, windows on the village.  I get the green bug key.  We sit and
> talk for a bit, when his duties call I wash up a bit and head into
> town.  I decide to walk.  Enough moto for today.  And I might have a
> couple of beers.
>
> I hike the waterfront.  This includes ruined steps and ravine, plank
> bridge that I choose to circumvent and unhappy dog.  Unhappy dog is
> unhappy because I am walking the promenade, and it's his promenade,  
> and
> he was enjoying a nice rest on it and now I just come walking along  
> and
> it's just TOO MUCH!  WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!  I try to reason with unhappy
> dog but there doesn't seem to be any ameliorating his unhappiness and
> I'm finding it quite noisy so I return the promenade to his solo use.
> After a brief detour down to the water on the steps that must  
> disappear
> in rainy season, but I do this far enough from him that he can stand
> our sharing for a little while.  Back the way I came, taking the  
> lowest
> plank bridge this time, and finding that the ruined steps and ravine
> are a bit more challenging from this direction.
>
> Have a beer at a roadside restaurant on the way in; I turn down food
> because on my earlier adventure I'd seen a restaurant with
> Matsoman.Curry, one of my favorites.  I walk past it to collect some
> wats, and find the guardian dogs assholes are completely stylized, the
> dragons are not very detailed, and everyone's garishly painted.  Next
> wat's simliar.  So, back to the curry.  Another beer while I wait.   
> And
> wait.  A smoke, and wait.  And wait.  It arrives.  It is worthe the
> waits.  Really, really good curry.  Eat it as ritual.  Holy food.
> Happy man.  Admire lizard moving freely in and out of the window.
> Converse a little with the Indian woman.  I think she may be the  
> owner,
> not the Dutch giant.  He may be co-owner or just the bouncer, but she
> seems to be taking the most responsibility.  Appreciates my admiration
> of her Matsoman.  Lizard has decided to explore over bar.  May be same
> lizard, maybe brother/sister/cousin, looks identical.  Explores around
> speaker.  Interesting.  If I were a decimeter long lizard would I
> appreciate big boxes making relatively loud sound?  Guess so.
>
> My feet hurt.  I buy a foot massage.  She notes that my talons need
> trimming.  I allow, however frightening.  She does not hurt me, with
> the toenail clipping anyway.  Talk about New York, Laos, feel better,
> pay, leave.  Walk home much more comfortable.  My room rocks.  Breeze
> fom the town side, balcony table is in the corner so it's very
> convenient to me.  Smoke, shoot, organize luggage, smoke, shoot, turn
> in.  Need to get up early to get the fast boat.  Not as early as if I
> had had to do the visa et al myself, Easy assured me, but I needed to
> meet them at passport control at 900.  So time for a banana, make a
> little coffee in Shawlee's outdoor kitchen and cleansing et al.  Now,
> the most absurd wake up call I've ever experienced.  I'm glad I was
> already awake because the calm is shattered by what I believe to be  
> the
> Thai anthem hyper-amplified.  I had noticed the loudspeaker hanging
> outside the porch earlier, but I had assumed it was some kind of civic
> adress system or EBS.  It is not, heavens no.  The musical selections
> were pleasant, if loud, but the narrative was, of course,
> incomprehensible, but calm.  Are Thailand and Laos suddenly and calmly
> at war again after centuries of relative peace I wonder?  The program
> ends, so I suppose not.  I go back down to the kitchen for a second  
> cup
> and S is there this time.   Happens every day, he explains.  Just the
> morning news.  Delivered like that?  Rather harsh.  I talk to S about
> leaving my extra bag and shoes and he shows me an extra room.  He  
> tells
> me where to park the bike so he can most easily keep an eye on it, and
> I do so.  He covers my helmet with a towel.  I bid adieu and walk down
> to the river.  I have definitely paid for something.  My passport is
> done.  I am babysat to the ferry and met on the other side.  I go to
> Lao passport control because everyone else is and they say I'm  
> already
> in order.  I exchange a little baht for kip and rejoin my new
> babysitter.  She takes me to a pick up truck, we wait a few minutes,
> two British girls and I, then get a ride to the fast boat peer.  Today
> is a holiday the babysitter explains, and we need to present the  
> police
> with a ten baht gift.  I thought this had been included in my fee, but
> okay.  Afterall I'm supposed to have a speedboat ticket and can't  
> find
> it so the babysitter makes me a new one by adding my name to the
> British girls', so what's ten more baht?  I am being well taken care
> of.  Then the speedboat dock and a wait for the passenger manifest to
> fill to eight.  I buy a fruit rice cake for the ride.
>
> The speedboat is a horror to begin with.  I am lucky enough to be
> seated with a kind Korean lad who lets me have a little more than my
> fare share of space, but this is definitely going to be eight hours of
> enforced yoga.  Incredibly cramped, rather wet, stupendously loud...
> and then it happens.  The first nadir of this adventure.  My bag with
> Camera, phone and palmtop falls into the Mekong.  We quickly turn
> around and retrieve it, but I'm afraid very much damage was done.
> Everything was on at the time, nothing in plastic.  And the boat is  
> too
> cramped to do anything about it right now.  At the first rest stop I
> pull the batteries out of everything but am not feeling good.  My
> Korean friend says he's going to use the toilet and vanishes.  This
> seems odd, but the pilot thinks nothing of it.  I assume I
> misunderstood, and that this village was his destination.  He is
> replaced by a German at least my size, and we do our best not to crush
> one another.  I am having a hard time letting go and enjoying the  
> trip.
>   If it is possible to enjoy.  I don't drink in the rest stops as I
> should, with their backwoods Laotian water village charms.  I eat my
> cake.  At the lunch rest stop I take a walk, talk a little with an
> Aussie and a Yank and observe an unhappy looking monk.  I refuse luch,
> beer, pot and opium.  I try to let it go.  It helps a little.  The
> worst is that neither palmtop nor camera were mine, but I can  
> afford to
> replace them eventually I know.  So I work on non-attachment to soaked
> things.
>
> I get a little semi-comotose meditation/sleep somehow.  I feel a  
> little
> better.  Our pilot has changed, our boat has changed, and now I  
> have to
> wonder what became of the palmtop battery.  Why, I/Toq remind myself.
> The rest stop after next is the most dangerous dock I have ever seen.
> A sort of log roll bamboo raft, staying on it and out of the Mekong is
> adrenaline fun.  I step inside and blow a little smoke out the other
> door.  I take a chair and do some stretching, listening to the men as
> they hand-pump the diesel.  I look across and see I was smoking
> directly under the ‘Plese Do Not Smoke Here' sign.  Well, I was  
> blowing
> outside.  And if the concern was diesel fumes, hey, we're all still
> alive for the moment.  So back across the log-roll and onward ho.  I
> had been managing some enjoyment just by watching the relationship of
> water and rock and relishing the beautiful cliffs and forests of the
> banks.  Suddenly I start enjoying the boat.  I don't think the German
> really appreciats it, but he doesn't punch me in the head so I  
> persist.
>   Instead of resisting the forces of gravity and speed and trying to
> hold a comfortable position I start acting like rail meat, helping in
> the turns by leaning out or sitting straight (I refrain from leaning
> into the German pretty well) and my lone body out of seven seems to
> make a difference.  Our new pilot was given the boat with the flakiest
> engine, it appeared, but maybe it's also the highest performance.
> Whichever the cause the other boat can't take us.  Our original boat
> left long before us, but the third boat remains third.  Despite a
> couple of stalls.  It catches up, noses ahead, then we're in a turn  
> of
> the river pulling away.  We come in second.  I was actually having fun
> and am now a little sorry it's over.  The work helped my body a  
> little,
> but the vibration has still left me rubbery.  Our pilot practically
> drags me ashore.  The original boat returns my battery.  We catch a  
> tuk
> tuk and your author runs out of time to bring you up to speed.  Sorry,
> we'll synchronize the continuum As Soon As Possible If...
>
> Meantime, watch out for the pteradactyls,
> 									Matt
Part the 3d and part the last continue to undergo revision, battery failures 
and such.  Here's some pics meanwhile...