Bangkok

I decided to leave the last post as is, for the simple fact that new posts generate more traffic to the blog. Plus, new content doesn't run the risk of being overlooked as editions to old content do. So let's dive right in to my Bangkok experience.

I arrived at the Bangkok airport from Luang Prabang two days ago around 9:30 a.m. I made my way to Khaosan Road using as much public transit as possible to minimize the cost. I chose this part of town, as hectic as it is, because I know it's pretty cheap and I'm somewhat familiar with it. I walked around the back streets until I found a guesthouse that satisfied my wants. Still feeling very weak, I rested there until 1:30 or so, at which point I decided to make my way to the hospital where I had made my appointment. I wasn't scheduled until 4 but I didn't know how long it would take to get there and check in and all that jazz.

I didn't leave the hospital until almost 6. It was a pleasant experience, all things considered. It was nicer and more modern than any hospital I've been to; on par with the newest parts of the U of U hospital. It's supposed to be the best one in Thailand. Even the taxi driver commented on it. " Numba one. Numba one in Thailand." The bill for the checkup, two visits with the doctor, and blood tests was right around $120. Not cheap, but not terrible either.

I made it back to the guesthouse and cleaned myself up to go out for dinner. I was too tired to wander so I settled for a place across the street. I ordered some curry that usually isn't spicy so I said, "spicy." The asshole server looked at me, raised his eyebrows and repeated, "spicy?" I nodded. He nudged a fellow server that was walking by and repeated, "spicy" to him. They both looked at me this time, eyebrows raised, with shit-eating grins. I was in no mood to explain to them that I wanted to make it through this meal with all taste buds in tact. I opted to say nothing and deal with it. It was exactly what I expected. If it weren't for my head being a little stuffy, it would have been unbearable. By the end, I couldn't feel my lips or any part of my mouth. When he asked me how it was, I just smiled and nodded, and gave him the is-that-all-you-got look. I paid and went back to my room to pass out.

I woke up around midnight to the sound of music blaring outside my building. I tried to ignore it for a while. Impossible. I also knew that I had gone to bed way too early to have any chance of sleeping through the night. I was feeling noticeably better though, so I thought, "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." I got dressed and walked around for a for a bit. Everything about Khaosan Road is entertaining to me. There is just so much going on, it's bananas. I walked around like I was at a zoo, pausing to look at the animals and take note of the quirky things they were doing. In one area, a bunch of them were dancing around to loud music, taking turns spinning on their heads and doing flips and other stunts. Instead of peanuts, people gave them money.

From there, I got distracted by an all out brawl that erupted on the street not fifty meters away. It started off with just fists and belts swinging but turned into bottles and objects flying everywhere. It was a pretty good show. When it ended, since obviously nothing was going to top that, I called it a night.

Yesterday was pretty uneventful. Although, in my search for a chiropractor, I did discover a side of Bangkok that I never knew existed. It was the high-end, ritzy part of town with all the super fancy resort hotels and shopping malls and modern buildings. I had always thought that Bangkok was a big dump because that's all I had ever seen. But this place, although it retained many of the dirty, trashy, polluted characteristics of the rest of the city, was extremely wealthy. It didn't really seem right to me, how it blended in so well with the rest of the city. On the cab ride there, I only barely noticed the gradual appearance of more and more expensive cars in the mix of taxis, tuk tuks and motorbikes. It was pretty trippy. The traffic was terrible everywhere. I was grateful to not be at the wheel; however, I was also frustrated at the time it took to get there. Especially when I found out the chiropractor was closing up as I arrived. He turned out to be extremely overpriced anyway.

I explored that part of town for a while, in absolute awe of its difference from the Khaosan Road neighborhood that I had come to accept as Bangkok. When I was ready to head back, I decided to have some fun and make an adventure of the ride home. I was determined to not get stuck in traffic, which was even worse now than when I had arrived. I had noticed some guys on scooters earlier with orange vests taxiing people around, so when I saw a couple just waiting on the corner, I asked if they could take me to Khaosan Road. They said yes. We negotiated a bit and off we went. It was hilarious. We swerved in and out, between cars, over the river, and through the woods. Wait, no woods. Virtually unaffected by traffic, I was back to the guesthouse in no time! That was the highlight of my day.

Today, I did nothing of the sort. I mostly just contemplated my next move. I considered going to straight to India, but after reading up a bit on the country and travel conditions, I opted against it. I'm looking for a more something a little more low key. My tentative plan as of now is to spend 10 days or so going through Cambodia into southern Vietnam then work my way up the coast to Hanoi, where I would have been right now had it not been for this precautionary detour. My Vietnamese visa expires on December 12, so I'm somewhat limited on time. From there, I'm thinking back to China, and then who knows.

What's the big idea?

This post is subject to change. I'm staying in a guesthouse near Koah Sarn Road in Bangkok. It's similar to Patong although I'd say it's a bit more mellow. When I went to bed last night, I thought to myself, that was uneventful. Tonight I sat down for dinner at a place with some Thai guy covering American songs on his guitar. I'm not sure if I got lost in the music, or the beers that I finally deemed myself well enough to drink, but I realized that a few of the details from last night might be worth writing about. So I will. Later.

I proceeded to let my imagination carry me away. I seemed to focus on one general train of thought though. It was centered around an idea I had earlier this year. It's a bit ambitious but where would we be without ambition. Follow-through has always been my real problem. Anyway, in a nutshell, I want to be a part of something big. A wiki community concept. A wikimunity. The idea is to get every brilliant mind involved in creating a hypothetical community that could potentially be created somewhere. The location would depend both on what is available, and on the hypothetical needs of this society whose governing laws would be decided before hand by everyone. The education system would actually inspire creative thinking based on individual aspirations and abilities. Nothing of life as we know it would be lost. It would only evolve to be centered around basic human needs, not money.

I know this is far beyond the scope of this blog, or any blog really, since blogs are not a suitable platform for communal input. But it has to start somewhere, and this is what I can do here and now. I'm almost ashamed to bring it up here, but I'm committed to share everything, and this is a decent piece of what goes on inside me. Plus, if you really think about the 6 degrees theory and take into account the doors that have opened in the internet age, anything is possible. I created a different blog for this a long time ago but never had the direction or the confidence to get it started. Expect more on this later. I'll need everybody's help. Literally.

It's All Good

I'm stuck in a taxi on my way back to the guesthouse from the hospital. It looks like I'm gonna be in traffic for a while so I'll get caught up. I had a blood test done and everything looks perfect. I'm super curious as to what I'm going to gain from this little detour since I seem to have wasted a fair amount of time and money. It's definitely changed my course of travel so I guess we'll see in the weeks to come. The doctor recommended I stay in Bangkok until Friday just in case, so I know at least that much. Tomorrow I'm going to find a chiropractor because I ran out of time today. I have a feeling that's going to make a world of difference. Not much else to report. I'm feeling much better than I was yesterday, but still only operating at about 60%.

Where you go!?

I am in bed with a super hot forehead. That's right, case three of the flu-like symptoms. Fever, cold sweats and aches, but this time with a splitting headache. I spent today changing my travel plans to accommodate. I got most of my money back for my bus ticket to Hanoi. I had looked up the health care options there just in case and found that Vietnam doesn't care much about your health at all. My plan was to tour the country for a month so I'm not going to show up in questionable health. Luang Prabang doesn't have much to offer either so I booked a flight to Bangkok for tomorrow morning. I made an appointment to get checked out tomorrow afternoon. While I'm there, I'm definitely going to hit up a chiropractor too. That, I am excited about. I'm not terribly concerned about all this and I definitely had not anticipated going back to Thailand so soon, much less Bangkok, but better that than risk being caught with malaria in the middle of nowhere.

In spite of my misery today, I feet pretty lucky. I kept crossing paths with a couple who was in much worse shape than I. The guy was scraped up everywhere, two black eyes, all bandaged up, and the girl could barely walk a snails pace. Using the guy as her crutch, she walked backwards, moving her good leg, if I dare call it that, in the direction they were going, six inches at a time, and literally dragging her other foot behind. I don't know what the hell happened to these two but it was painful to watch. They were out and about all day though. Every time I thought I felt bad for myself, I happened to run into them. I kept thinking, at least I can walk! And my recovery won't be nearly as long, painful, or miserable as theirs.

Enough about that. I have a story to tell. Once upon a Thursday night, I was heading to the night market when I ran into a guy and a girl staring at a map. I figured since I had been here for over a week already that I would offer my assistance. I didn't end up being particularly helpful, but I did point out where we were on the map and showed them what the orientation was. Result: friends for a night. We grabbed a fruit shake together (I f*&#ing love fruit shakes! I take two a day.) and I proceeded to show them a few of the cool hangouts around town. We settled down at the Lao Lao Bar for dinner.

The guy was French and the girl was half British, half Australian, and a mighty fine blend at that. They had just arrived from Hanoi by plane, which is actually how they met.

While we were ordering our food, we made an extremely poor last minute decision to share a bucket. The Law of Buckets states that you can't have just one. The dude abides. By the end of dinner, we were feeling pretty good. We discussed the options for what to do next. Unfortunately it was already past 11 and Luang Prabang loosely enforces a midnight curfew. Everything closes at 11:30. Everything except the bowling alley that is. I had been hearing about this place all week and was pretty curious.

My new friends weren't interested which left no other option than to call it a night. I pointed them towards their guesthouse before heading off in the opposite direction towards mine. I was slightly disappointed that the night had ended so abruptly. But right as I was telling myself that it was a good idea to get to bed, I heard the infamous call of the tuk tuk driver. "Tuk tuk! Where you go?" They always hang out by the bars at closing time. I shook my head out of habit. But then I stopped walking and thought to myself, I may not be ready for bed just quite yet. I negotiated a $2 ride to the bowling alley and got in, sealing the deal on my second terrible decision of the evening.

Going bowling! Thanks Mr. Tuk Tuk!

When I got there, it was pretty much what I expected. A dozen lanes, a bar, a few tables, and a whole bunch of drunk idiots. I didn't realize until later that I was one of them. I spotted a girl in the crowd that I had briefly talked to back at the Lao Lao bar. I had tried to help her get over a case of the hiccups. No, that's not code for anything either, although I'm sure that would work. I walked up and said hello and asked if I could join her and her friends for bowling. She kindly agreed and introduced me to her boyfriend and the rest of the gang. At that point, I made my third terrible decision of the evening and went in on a bottle of Lao whiskey. Not that I had to make much of a contribution, the entire fifth with a liter of Pepsi and a bucket of ice came out to $5.  Remember what I said about cheap booze?

We bowled a game and hung out a bit, then decided to call it. I hopped in a tuk tuk with the girl and her boyfriend and headed back into old town. We stood in the road and exchanged drunken philosophies on life for a good hour. Finally around 3:30 or so we exchanged emails and said goodbye. They were a super fun and good looking couple. The kind you can't help but be happy for.

As I walked home, I began to realize that my feet felt a little funny. I looked down to find that I was still wearing the bowling shoes. It was too late to go back. I laughed at my drunken stupidity but thought of how upset I would be if I lost those shoes for good. As these thoughts were circling through my head, a very gay drunk Lao guy drove by on his scooter and said, "hey, where you go?!" Again, out of habit I just shook my head. But again, I reconsidered. When he asked me again, because they always ask you again, I pointed at the clown shoes I was wearing and said "I left my shoes at the bowling alley." As nervous as I was to get on a motorbike with this excuse for a dude, I would never forgive myself if I didn't end up getting my shoes back. I agreed to pay him $4 if I got my shoes back.

I hopped on and we were off. When we got there the gate was closed. He yelled something in Lao and a guy showed up a minute later. He pointed at the shoes I was wearing and explained the situation. The guy looked at me and smiled, and we were immediately granted access. It was obvious that they knew each other. I realized then how insanely lucky I was. I always am. We went in and I found my shoes, I tipped the guy who let us in, and we were off again.

The ride home was anything but comfortable. First, my new friend here tried to take an alternate route. I said, "no no no no no." He told me it was faster but I knew the way so I knew he was lying. He turned around to go the right way. A few minutes in, he starts to tell me how cold he is as he pushes back up against me. I kindly told him that I wasn't interested. Not 30 seconds later, he leaned back into me and started rubbing my leg. Having let go of the handle bars with one hand, we swerved a bit. This time I was much more stern in my response. Aside from his having no respect, I was beginning to question my safety. Finally, he apologized and backed off. The rest of the way back he told me all about how he liked to pick up drunk straight white guys late at night. He made it sound like he often got what he wanted. I wondered how drunk or curious these guys would have to have been. Anyway, I had him drop me off a few blocks from my guesthouse so that he wouldn't "accidentally" find me again. I gave him his $4 and walked away. After all he had told me, I couldn't help but smile at the thought of how that exchange must have looked to an unsuspecting bystander.

Transparent

I've been on my own for over a month now. Looking back, I realize just how much of that time I've spent alone. With the exception of three people and a few scattered nights at the bars, I have kept very much to myself. I have felt no lasting need to build any social bonds. I did welcome and very much enjoy the company of those I spent time with; however, I can't say that I felt much of a void when I found myself alone again. If anything, I'm gradually getting more comfortable in my solitude. I'm not particularly motivated to go out, partially because the cost of booze is so high relative to everything else. And when it's not, you can count on spending the next day with a migraine. Maybe I'm just getting old. Ha. Obviously. You can't very well get young.

During the day, I tend more to preoccupy myself with books and this blog, and the occasional emails. I take breaks to eat and pee, and to make observations from my perch. Isolation inevitably leads to self reflection, which in turn, effectively keeps me reading and writing. I'm not a complete drone yet; I do get random urges to stretch, and be active, and talk some, but they are easily satisfied. In the end, my thoughts rein victorious and carry me away. I don't expect this to always be the case, but for now it feels like what I need.

This post is a compilation of some of my thoughts. They may seem slightly scattered but the dots should connect to form a rough outline of me. Rough, not for lack of clarity, but because I am actually rough around the edges! Seriously though, these ramblings might be boring so grab a tasty beverage and turn this post into a drinking game! Go on, I'll wait.

Now, take a drink every time I say the word "blog." Yes, of course that counts. If at any point you realize that you missed one, stop. Take it from the top.

Alright, blog, I finished my forth book of the trip today. I mentioned in other posts that I was reading the first two of the Ender's Game series. Despite feeling the need to diversify out of principle, I went on to read the third and the forth. As a whole, these books carry enough moral and ethical value based on spiritual, yet logical standards, to serve perfectly as guidelines for a happy, healthy lifestyle. I certainly prefer them to any religious doctrine, as I have read them all. They manage to put the human condition into perspective, and have inspired in me the constructive situation analysis that is the basis for many of my blog posts. The key to good writing seems to lie in how effectively you get readers to relate to what you convey. Orson Scott Card is brilliant at this.

I've been through similar phases before in my life, where I feel antisocial. The first I remember of this is when I was 10. I spent the bulk of that summer, and the three summers after it, alone on the cliffs of Meschers, France, near our house. I had no blog or friends to speak of, aside from my cousins who came around every so often. I hadn't yet learned to be outwardly social so I never felt the need to be. I was simply absorbed in the challenge of catching whatever I could. Fish, and shrimp, and crab, and blog, and whatever else could be found. I didn't even like seafood, but my family did. That was just an added benefit though. In high school, I went through several antisocial phases, the first of which was a period of nearly fatal depression at the end of my freshman year. I feel lucky to have escaped that one. A long time passed before I talked much with anyone after that. It wasn't for lack of desire though, I had always been envious of the way my brother so effortlessly engaged with whomever he wanted. I just hadn't figured out how to do it myself. It still doesn't always come easy. Finally, my junior year, on a trip to West Palm Beach with my dad for Spring break, I decided to go out on my own. I convinced myself to grow a pair and talk to everybody I felt like being in a conversation with, even if I had absolutely nothing to say. The logic was that I was so far away from home that there was no chance of running into any of these people again. Therefore, the risk of embarrassment carried no weight. I learned a lot that week, and overcame a couple useless fears.

I've thought a bit about that week on this trip, especially in Chiang Mai. I toyed with idea of shamelessly engaging with everyone just to see what trouble I could get myself into. In the end though, I always shied away. I know what fun it can lead to, but connecting with myself seemed more important. And so I've read, and I've written. I have connected with myself, and with people back home. In part, because of people back home. I would never have guessed when I left the people that I have remained in touch with. And many whom I expected to hear from have been nonexistent. It's perfect though, because nobody needs all of their friends all of the time. I've cycled through friends my entire life. The good ones stick around, or come back, and are there when I need them. If they are not there, it's either because it's actually their absence that I need, or because they don't need me in that moment, which amounts to the same thing. I measure the quality of my friendships not by the amount time spent together or in communication, but rather by joy of those moments when we are.

We all manifest our own destiny by living in the reality that is most logical to us at any given moment. And since truth is really only what you believe enough to act upon, the key is to find a justification of what makes you happy that makes enough sense to you to believe it in that way. It all relates back to that elusive sense of purpose. 

Out here, my greatest sense of purpose comes from this blog, both from writing it and from the response I get. No matter where I am in the world, I can make you laugh, think, feel, drink, blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog, etc, as if I were right there with you. The only thing I resent about the blog is the time that it takes for me to write. And I hate to spend time doing anything right now that I could be doing at home. But what I could do at home and what I would do have proven to be two entirely different things. With all the distractions of habit at home, I would likely not have found the stimulation or had the clarity of mind to write what I have here.

I have questioned my attachment to my electronic devices. I had originally envisioned this trip as a chance to break free of materialistic tendencies. In the weeks leading up to my departure, I nearly cut my material possessions in half, letting go of many things I thought I needed. I wanted to make sure that when I go back home, it's for the right reasons. However, in my last minute decision to create and maintain this blog, I bought this tablet, giving up many of the freedoms I had hoped for. What I've gained in their place, is arguably more valuable. It's difficult though, to weigh the value of what I could be doing against something I take so much pride in.

Having committed to this blog, the real question became about how much to include in it. How much of my personal experience is appropriate to share with absolutely everybody? I've struggled with this until just recently, and after a drawn out internal debate over the matter, I came up with this: Nothing I should, in my opinion, be doing right now would need to be withheld from anyone. And naturally, anything I would do could only contribute to the demystification of me, and therefore should not be excluded. So, if the information contained in my blog, in its truth, serves to push anyone away, then logic would have it that these people, in their inability to accept who I am, should join the ranks of those who are clearly not worth my time associating closely with. As long as I stay true to myself and this blog, it will serve as a self-regulating function of my life.

Blog.

Luang Prabang

When we first arrived in Luang Prabang we had no intention of staying more than a few days. Of course, that's true of every place I've been so far since I have yet to take the time to research a location before actually going there. The guesthouse we found the first night was clean and reasonably priced. It was dark out and we had no idea where we were in relation to the town center. For all we knew, we were in it. What I knew for sure is that there was an ice cream shop next door!

The next day we rented bikes in an attempt to get our bearings. We discovered the old part of town that, like the old parts of most towns and cities, has been most developed to accommodate tourists. I believe this happens naturally because these are usually the most charming areas in a city. The locals have little choice but to do business where the tourists are most comfortable and likely to hang out.

This part of town with small streets and tiny cobble alleyways reminded me a lot of France. And to my surprise I started to hear and see french everywhere. There were french schools, french signs, and a lot of french people. Eventually I asked someone what the deal was. Apparently the French helped colonize Luang Prabang. The implications were huge. There would be no shortage of crepes, croissants, or baguettes for me as long as I stayed here!

We realized that we had stayed in the wrong part of town, mostly because it wasn't this part, and decided to find a place here close to the river. The search for a guesthouse at a new destination is always interesting. You never really know what you're looking for or what to expect. The best strategy is to walk from place to place and ask to see the rooms to get an idea of what's available and what the price range is. We did just that. After checking out a half dozen or so guesthouses, we stumbled upon one that was confusingly cheap for what and where it was; about $6 per night for the both of us. The Nam Sok guesthouse would be home for the next several days.

We also found a restaurant on the river that I knew right away would be my home away from home, away from home. There were couches, and shade, and a view; basically all the motivation I could ask for to read and write. And that's what I felt like doing. We sat down to grab a bite. Enough time passed that we grabbed another. People came and went. One American guy started a conversation with me. I didn't much feel like conversing but he offered some good information that actually sparked a course of action. Inaction, rather. He told us that a lot of the flowers and lights and decorations around town were all part of a festival that was happening on the 31st. I had obviously noticed all this -- it was part of the town's appeal -- but it had never even occurred me that something special might be going on.

The restaurant seating and view.

It was an easy decision to stay. It had the feel an old familiar European town. The people were friendly. The atmosphere was enchanting. There was plenty to see and do. And the price was certainly right. We spent the next couple days peacefully enjoying the sights and sounds of the town in full preparation for this important celebration. It was the end of the Buddhist lent period. This article describes it well.

The night of the festival, we went on a run around the town. We got to see more than just the neighborhood that we had confined ourselves to, and got some good ol' fashioned exercise in the process. We finished in time to catch the parade. It was a showing of all the bamboo boats and natural art pieces that were about to be let loose on the Mekong river. Everything was lit up with candles. People all around were making sounds with whatever they had available. Collectively, it was music; charming in it's simplicity. A few sky lanterns were being set free, complimenting the stars in the clear night sky. It was magical, and I felt lucky to be sharing it with someone.

One of the Temple courtyards.

The next day was just as great in it's own way. We rented a motorcycle and rode out to the Pak Ou caves in the morning. They were nice, but not that cool. I thought they would be bigger and more exciting. Ah, the curse of expectation. It was enjoyable netheless. We came back into town for lunch before riding out in the opposite direction to the Kuang Si waterfall. Now that was right up my alley! We followed a dirt path through some woods and along a river. It was like an enchanted forest that I saw once -- we'll just call it a dream. It was relaxing to be in the presence of such natural beauty. There were several smaller falls, and pools to swim in. After only fifteen minutes or so, we reached the main waterfall. It was impressive, but I was more interested in following the path. It led us to a bridge that crossed over the river, then turned into a steep jungle trail that had been worn into the mountainside. The hike up, across through the water, and back down the other side was incredible. I can't really describe the feeling I had.

Atop the falls.

Once we were back down, I gave in to the temptation to go swimming and play Tarzan on the rope swing. I felt more like George of the Jungle though, almost hitting the very tree that I swung from. Details.

The next few days were mellow. I spent a lot of time reading and writing. I began to feel that my travel companion not as content with being still. She said nothing of it, but it was clear that she was ready to move on. Not from me, but from here. Hence her silence. Determined to not repeat the mistake I had made with the German girl, I brought it up and told her frankly how I felt and why.

I was certainly going to leave soon, but I didn't know when. I loved every bit of her company. Especially after the first few weeks of my journey, which I had spent alone, observing all the couples that traveled together and imagining the bond that was building between them. I was envious in my fascination of this concept of love. With her, everything we had done, all the time we had spent together was better because she was around. I was getting a taste of what I longed for. What I didn't like, was this new feeling I had that I was keeping her from going where she wanted to go. I also didn't like the accompanying feeling that she was counting on me to be around.

It was an emotional conversation that ultimately ended with an agreement: should we part ways, it would carry no implications. We could meet up again at any point, and no matter what, our friendship would not be compromised. Win, win. She was eager to visit Cambodia anyway, and I had decided that Vietnam would be my next stop. So, we spent the next few days making the most of our time together. The night before last, I walked her to the bus station and just like that, she was gone.

Three Point One Four: The Missing Piece

If you've been following my adventures all along, you've probably noticed a significant gap in the story line that resulted in a subject change from "I" to "we." The purpose of this post is to close that gap.

As a precautionary measure, I'll refrain from using the names of certain people. Please ignore the unintended impersonal tone that is bound to come across as a result.

It all started in Kata, Phuket with the German girl. We kept in touch. She was the first person besides Kenny that I had really talked to since I had been on my own. The evening we spent together was effortless and our conversation engaging. That may simply have been because my approach to everything out here is relatively carefree. Or maybe because we share similar life philosophies and travel intentions. Probably both. Our goodbyes that night included a couple offhanded remarks suggesting the possibility of running in to each other again. Still, being my first encounter, I semi-consciously decided to think little of it.

In Chiang Mai, I checked out the social scene but didn't partake. Getting there really made me appreciate just being there. I was perfectly happy keeping to myself. It wasn't until I signed up for Jungle Flight and the three-day trek, where silence would have been more awkward than getting involved, that I really talked to anyone again.

Just before the jungle trek, I received an email from the German girl saying that she would be making her way up to Chiang Mai. I'm still unsure exactly how much of her decision to head my direction had to do with me. The thought that it did though made me a bit nervous simply because I didn't feel like it was based on a mutual agreement. This feeling undoubtedly emanated from a misinterpretation of my enthusiastic demeanor the night we met that was brought into light in our email conversations. I assume partial responsibility for not having recognized this in time to tone it down. Of course, I knew that ultimately the decision to spend more time with her was mine, and if I decided for it, nothing that had happened between us had given me any reason to believe that it wouldn't be time well spent. Besides, in my experience, something good always comes from every situation, even if I fail to recognize it immediately. Still, I resented the fact that for me, it had never really been a decision at all. As always, I would volunteer myself, unnecessarily, to face some uncomfortable conditions that were really only a product of my imagination. Her tentative arrival date fell on the same day that I was to return from the trek.

The jungle trek introduced an exciting new element to this story. If you haven't already guessed, I'm referring to the, "...one Dutch girl traveling solo..." We made eye contact the moment I stepped in to the truck that was taking us all away. The size of our group and the length of the trek made it nearly impossible not to engage in smalltalk at some point with everyone there. Given the language barriers though, that was usually all it amounted to. Fortunately, that allowed plenty of room for flirting, which requires remarkably few words. By the end of the trek, the Dutch girl and I had come to a clear, mutual agreement that we should get together again. Conveniently -- naturally almost -- she had plans to spend the next three days in Pai, just north of Chiang Mai.

I met up with the German girl for breakfast the next morning. She had "coincidentally" ended up at a guesthouse directly across the street from mine. We spent much of the next few days together, taking our personal time as we needed it. Our plans to meet up were often vague and tentative but they always worked out. We always had something to say and the mood was consistently light and happy. It was nice to have dependable company. Howbeit, I always felt like I had to keep her at arm's length. She was obviously aware, and I could tell it was confusing to her, but I didn't completely understand it myself. I didn't fight it because in this particular situation, no good could come of that. The Dutch girl's return was approaching, but that wasn't reason enough. I felt something else holding me back. It's likely that my preconceived notions of how it was going to play out defined how it actually did. That's a fun concept. How many lifetimes have been spent trying to understand and master that?

Anyway, on our third day we did some jungle white water rafting. It was a funtastic day trip with yet another amazing backdrop. Unfortunately my camera isn't waterproof so I have no images of that to share. We ended up on a raft with a couple guys about our age; one French and one German. They were quite the comedians which made the trip that much better. We kept running jokes about a fine young lady on a nearby raft that they had crush on. She was with a guy who they convinced themselves was her brother. At one point the German guy said, "she just sent me signals with her eyes." The French guy snap responded, "signals like, 'hey, who's your friend?'"

By the time we got back to town that evening, the German girl had apparently had enough of the uncertainty between us. We said goodbye as we always had; however, it wasn't until after she walked away that it occurred to me that we had no plans to meet up again. I had a feeling that wasn't the last time I'd see her but I felt no desire to initiate contact. I had truly enjoyed our time together but it felt right to leave it at that and move on. That night, I went to the Sunday market and realized just how happy I was to be alone again.

I spent the next day to myself, enjoying every moment. Come nighttime, I was ready for a little social stimulation. I met up with the Dutch girl for a drink. Conversation didn't come easy because, let's just say her English isn't perfect. There were a few awkward silences and many repeated sentences. To her credit, the music was so loud that we could barely hear each other. All in all, not much was said, but it was enough to earn ourselves another encounter the following day.

That encounter turned into plans to travel to Laos together. It just so happened that we had both left home at the end of September, within a couple days of each other. Neither of us had a return date in mind or any real idea of what we were going to do until such a day came. We had followed similar courses through Thailand to Chiang Mai, and had similar, although vague, ideas of where to go from there. Plus, all along I had anticipated finding travel partners here and there. Surely she was as good as any other. The beauty of starting out with no plan lies in the freedom to make one up as you go. Take the bull by the horns. The Presidents of the United States of America said it best, "An empty boat starts rowin', that's when you're knowin', life is passing you by!" Never mind that that song is about a girl who's a mixed up son of a bitch; the point is, when you want something in life, you've just got to reach out and grab it. 

Both of our Thai visas would expire soon so we had to hit the road anyway. Might as well go together. We basically threw a dart a Laos map and went with it. Neither of us had much interest in researching the place we were going. We agreed that if we didn't like it, there was nothing to keep us from moving on. So we plotted our course to Luang Namtha, with a pit stop in Chiang Rai. Aside from wanting to see Chiang Rai, we had both learned the hard way that it's usually better to break up long bus rides in these parts.

Lastly, this story would not be complete without one last minor detail. We ran into the German girl twice in Luang Namtha, and twice in Luang Prabang where I am now. The timing; the arbitrary, spontaneous nature of our travel, and hers; I couldn't make this stuff up. These run-ins were hard on her though. It was obvious despite the genuine smile she wore each time. She later confirmed this to me in an email. After all, we never actually said goodbye or agreed to go our separate ways. I don't feel good about it at all. But rather than waste precious energy on regret, I'm taking it to heart and making a commitment to myself to be more aware, for the sake of everyone I've hurt out of ignorance.

Words and actions always run the risk of being skewed by interpretation. Intention, in a sense, is no more than a bias that hinders your ability to make yourself understood.