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.