Selfies Are Like Masturbation, Do It In Private

With my internal clock still ticking to the beat of it's own drummer my eyes opened before the sun rose and I waited out the dark to partake in one of my most favorite travel activities - the morning run.

Deciding to stay on main thoroughfares, I ended up back in the park Sharlene and I had visited the night before, only this time the senior citizen tai chi class was getting underway and I wanted in! Deciding not to disturb the poor old Asian people by throwing a tall white girl in hot pink into the mix I made my way over to the waterfront and proceeded to get ripped, and my ripped I mean some minor calisthenics that resulted in me sweating profusely despite my best efforts to sport wicking materials, therefore making me feel like I was kicking major ass.

Back at the hostel Sharlene and I shared out morning breakfast with smiley faces toasted into the bread and and set out on our self-appointed day trip to Ayutthaya, which we had been told we could reach by train.

I've learned in the last few days that if you ask 5 different Thai people a question you will get 5 different answers, as was the case with this wild goose chase. Despite the fact that we knew better, our first tuk tuk driver of the day insisted we purchase tickets from some tourist center clearly run by his girlfriend's cousin's family who, when we inquired about train tickets, confirmed what we already knew, and what logic would dictate, that one can procure train tickets at - you guessed it - the train station. Our driver was stupid and I wasn't falling for the hustle, leaving him with little option than to feign hunger, going so far as to rubbing his flat belly and claiming he needed to leave us right where he picked us up and go get food. Dubs Tee Eff.

Remaining optimistic we persevered and arrived at Hualumphong station with minutes to spare to catch the 10:30 am train to Ayutthaya - of course 10:30 meant whenever the train chose to roll on in and I had plenty of time not only to consume the better part of the Blueberry Ice Cream Oreos I had purchased for the voyage, but spot a particularly beautiful black man, which in these parts is like spotting the Loch nNess Monster.

Fortuitously enough we ended up seated just across the way from this Canadian dream and his Aussie mate and struck up a conversation with them on the train, creating just enough of a travelers bond to embark upon our tour of this Wat-rific little town splitting a tuk tuk tour and sharing a meal.

Wat Mahathat, Wat Yai Chai Mongkol and Wat Ratchaburana were spectacular, breathtaking, amazing, and structurally similar to that... Of a butt plug. Blasphemous, perhaps- immature, absolutely, but accurate as hell nonetheless.

Interesting fact: the last Wat on our agenda, Wat Chai Wattanram was featured in Mortal Combat the motion picture as confirmed by Sharlene's husband via text.

After a little souvenir shopping and a ridiculously delicate gift purchased we raced back for the 4:37pm train to Bangkok, leaving at 5:15 or so.

The train was full and we were spent from the day basking on the burner known as Thailand.

Witnessing a fiery sunset from the rattling window of a train is a privilege, and one for which I am thankful. As the clouds came in for what was set to be a torrential rainstorm the sky turned red and it felt like the apocalypse was upon us - and it was beautiful.

Never one for small talk I chatted up said Canadian pal and when he spoke of his mother in past tense I could sense it was recent. When I inquired he remained stoic when mentioning she had passed away in April, but I failed to maintain composure, as I thought of my own loss this summer and how devastatingly awful it has been. I later explained to him that I was not completely crazy, but that his tale had hit a nerve. And a rather fresh one at that. Not a subject I had ever wished to connect on, but evidently one I now can

Back at the train station we parted ways with promises to What's-app, but alas, just like sand through the hour glass, or travelers through the world, our connection was lost. No matter, I still had Sharlene by my side, at least for the next couple of days.

The rain began to lay in in violent sheets of water and obtaining proper transport back to the hostel proved to be more difficult that I was prepared for. We managed to get a 20 baht ride but only if we promised to stop into a tailor first, as they would then pay for the drivers gas, illuminating the greasing of palms and scratching of backs that seemingly run tourism in Thailand.

A quick bite to eat in a German run establishment resulted in full bellies and the desire to head home to bathe, and slumber.

Sharlene took first shower and by the time she was back I was out cold, leading to another mid slumber late night shower to disrupt my sleep pattern and clog my temperamental pores even more.

With a 2 day tour to Kanchanaburi reserved and paid for it was rise and shine to welcome in November. A nutritious breakfast of Japanese Strawberry Kit Kats were had before strapping our bags to our backs and boarding a bus to Kanchanaburi.

There were several stops slated for today - first being a gas station selling shirts with New York emblazoned on the front. As some young phillies giggled at them with heavy indication they were from NYC I could sense something was off. When pushed it turned out the were Long Islanders. One can smell their own kind and smell the posers!

The Floating Market Dumneon Saduak was next, best known for its canals of shops designed to convince tourist they are having an authentic cultural experience all the while persuading them to pay 500% markup for chackis that were made in Taiwan. Not claiming to be above it all, as a woman most certainly old enough to be my grandmother navigated our private canoe around the canals I purchased a doll for my niece far too expensive and far too large and ornate to carry with me for the next month.

Damn shiny things!

After a quick mystery meat lunch served outdoors at a rest stop we made our way to The Tiger Temple, a staple in the Thailand backpackers experience, second only to buying flowy Hammer Pants you will most certainly shove to the back of your closet the second you return home.

The parade of photo opps whilst awkwardly standing next to a chained tiger is an experience in itself and though one must check their ethical standards at the door, I am glad I did it. Also glad that the young man designated as my personal picture taker with my personal camera chose to go buck wild and document several of the large cats' large balls, giving me plenty of selection for next year's Christmas card.

The baby warthogs, red pandas and even the 4 month old tiger cub names Sky may have all taken a back seat, however, to the gaggle of water buffalo being led by a John Wayne ringer in their midday bath/chew fest.

I sort of fell in love.

Back in the bus again to another waterfall and another succession of souvenir shopping left me with a headache and a distinct need to not be in a car any longer.

Luckily dinner on the river was next up and I got to eat while watching the blue sky turn lavender and then cobalt blue before slipping into total darkness. Seated next to two very nice young Austrian men, one of whom should definitely move to Hollywood and act as Neil Patrick Harris' body double, helped the time go by and helped me forget that the other two Austrians on the trip were the epitome of the rude European, far worse than the rude American stereotype floating around, and far less hygienic.

A leisurely boat ride to our accommodation for the evening, in the form of a log cabin floating atop the river was peaceful and made me realize with very beautiful moment comes a pang of pain. Don't get me wrong, Sharlene is fantastic, and easy to travel with, but this trip was supposed to be had with my father, we had plans, and in those moments of serenity and beauty is when that comes to light the most that he is not here with me.

The whole in my heart is not filled by the adventure of a new land.

Quite the opposite, my loss is intensified by the new and exciting experiences in which I am participating and the reminder that I can no longer make a simple phone call and share is a stark reminder of my loss on a minute to minute basis.

That being said, time marches on and I can only make the best of what I currently have.

What I had in this particular case was an early call time.

When sleeping on a floating 'hotel' you are given the opportunity to wake early and watch the fog lift over the lush green trees and see the sky lighten gradually with nothing but the sound of your breath to keep you company. As other travelers woke, I made my way to the far end of the platform where I could be, think, and leave just a little bit of my father behind, in the river on his journey, posthumously, with me around the world. Like I said, you gotta make the best with what you have.

Once the Austrian woman for whom I now held such contempt I could feel the bile of rage lapping up the back of my throat at the slightest infraction awoke it was time for scrambled eggs and a hike up the hill to our bus for the day and the next chapter in our adventure.

After being fooled by our driver to try a 'sweet treat' off of a nearby tree and instead being met with a bitter tart surprise we loaded into the vehicle and made our way for Erawan National Park that in white trash translates to the Water World of Thailand. This succession of waterfalls is tucked into the trees and provides a series of baths that local families seem to picnic at on a regular basis.

With 7 waterfalls from which to choose Sciatic Sally and I opted only to hike up to the 4th stop which provided some bathing - a very little amount for me as the toe nibbling fish at the water's surface made me scream like a school girl not once, but twice, some sweating and a whole lot of selifie taking - not for us, of course - but for the numerous young women who thought the natural background complimented their unnatural expressions to perfection. Or at least on the 8th attempt they thought so. It was painful to watch - but like all good car wrecks, I couldn't look away.

After our decent we got some chill time perched upon a bamboo platform and devoured some sticky rice and chili powered mango before the rain set in, once again.

I make it a point not to 'plan' these adventures of mine, but maybe I should take a quick gander at weather.com before booking a flight in the future. Maybe.

Loading back into the bus damp and tired was quickly brightened by Shar and I literally being kicked out of the car and dropped off at the Elephant Sanctuary, where we got to ride an elephant led by a young man dressed in a traditional hi jab, of sorts.

We sat in a two-seater but were given the option of straddling this majestic beast and yes, it broke my heart to see the chains and the melancholy in those big brown eyes, but man is it fucking cool to ride an elephant in the Thai countryside. I'm sorry, Dumbo - please forgive me.

Some fried rice was served up at the nearby riverside restaurant and we were shoved back into a bus for the what would soon become an excruciatingly long and uncomfortably long ride home - providing plenty of time to sweat, and plenty of time to think.

There is little worse than having a crush. You're mind is constantly elsewhere, no matter what amazing adventure upon which you are embarking. Trust me, if I could get hold of a Trapper Keeper and multicolored pen my name and his would be scrawled across the front and punctuated with tiny hearts.

I can't help but think he might be the Zack to my Kelly and I fantasize about all of the fun times we could have at The Maxx!

But back to reality, and back to the big bitch in front of me with no regard for anyone other than her bad dye job and shirtless hubby.

You'd think that they would schedule their tours to avoid rush hour, but you'd be wrong. They want you to get the full Thailand experience, replete with rainstorm, bumper to bumper and manual transmission.

For anyone who suffers from motion sickness as I do, they will understand what a nearly never ending ride involving the aforementioned factors and mixed with no AC and a can filled with fragrant Europeans, you feel my pain.

Rolling into Bangkok we were the first to be dropped off and hoping our hostel from a couple of days ago would by chance have a room. Our hope was quickly snuffed out, but we were directed down the street where a guest house by the name of Pen Park Place with less amenities for more money could provide us with keys to room B32 and a WiFi connection that was weak at best.

A couple of showers to wash off the elephant and car and we put on marginally clean clothes to grab dinner in the 'hood.

I made the very bad call of heading to Joy Luck Club despite the fact that it was filled with white people - usually a deterrent for me even when stateside. Opting to branch out and order pumpkin sandwiches and a papaya salad resulted in an unhappy tummy though Sharlene's pad Thai and spring rolls were decidedly NOT good as well. You'd think a restaurant named after an early 90s literary hit that resulted in a movie hiring every working Asian actor on the scene would yield yuminess, but alas, this was not the case.

So here I sit, in a French-inspired cafe getting my daily dose of juice (see: Internet) and catching up on my travel tales. Tomorrow is Sharlene's last day in Thailand and after she flys back to California I have absolutely no agenda.

Only time will tell...

Ballin' in Bangkok

If when you read this I am left merely a shell of a the woman I once was, know it was mosquitoes who got me, ate me alive. The intimate relationship I have been forming with these obnoxious pests the past 2 days has left me red, welted and worse for wear.

Luckily, I am sweet blooded, thick skinned and, in the words of disco queen Gloria Gaynor, I will survive.

It all began a couple of days ago after a lengthy flight and a couple of countries...

It's always useful to stay at a place where the staff speaks little to no English and you cannot even attempt to gesticulate in the native tongue. This was most certainly the case as I gained entry into Bangkok.

After getting up to do work throughout the appropriate business hours in the US, I napped for an hour or two Bangkok time. Then, Sharlene, my compatriot for the first week of my journey, and I rose before the tuk tuks take over the roads and streets begin to bustle with people opening their shops and commuting to their commitments to get ready for the day. Our first day - in Bangkok.

A fried egg of which I palleted as much as possible, two hot dogs and white toast was on the menu this particular morning, and likely every morning thereafter at the hostel Khaoson Baan Thai. We happily accepted the included breakfast and, after the kind help of some fellow backpackers by way of Barcelona, we were off to explore.

The winding alleys in Phranakorn gave is the opportunity to get lost in the most delightful of ways and see families opening their small businesses for the start of the day. With the help of a poorly detailed map containing no actual street names we meandered down a main thoroughfare toward the Grand Palace but didn't make it past the National Gallery before a kind Thai man with an umbrella in hand as protection from the already increasing heat of the day offered us unsolicited advice, marked up our map and procured is a tuk tuk driver for the day, going as far as teaching Sharlene 'pin pang,' in order for her to declare her distaste when being over charged.

Having secured us in a brightly colored pink and green vehicle with an old man who had an uncanny resemblance to a garden gnome, we were off on this stranger's agenda. The standing Buddha, where we lit candles for our respective lost loves, a tailor to get quotes for the cashmere suits we would never actually wear, and Golden Mount where I inadvertently raced a 7-year old to the top to witness a 360 degree view of the city of Bangkok and a front row view to Buddhists signing large sheets of red silk, presumably as part of their spiritual practice. We were swiftly moving through our schedule, we even had time to grab some strawberry ice cream, topped with mealy soy beans and optional condensed milk (yuck).

After our decent it was time to meet up with my real motivation for choosing Thailand as my destination on this particular journey. Having worked with the beautiful soul known as Laura Hahn several years back at a magazine in New York City I knew I'd made a friend for life and when the pursuit of a masters in gerontology brought her to Thailand I promised I'd visit. Never one to shirk the responsibilities of a verbal bond, here I am. Sharing my excitement for reuniting and feeling so good, she made her way into the city after classes to meet us and marvel at the temple known as Wat Arun, just across the river from Bangkok. Wat Arun is a space age structure made up mosaics and stone. It was truly awe inspiring, and my awe is hard to inspire.

Sweaty hugs were exchanged and steep stairs mounted making us quite certain that we had earned an afternoon delight at a noodle shop a 5 minute walk from the Wat. 3 noodle dishes, each delicious in their own right, and 2 bottles of Pepsi adjacent soda entitled Est, all for about 4 American dollars wasn't so bad and the establishment provided us with shelter from the midday rain storm that came down in angry sheets as we happily shoveled savory noodles into our pie holes.

I can't help but fall in love with the stray animals here in this city, most maintaining some amount of healthy glow, likely from the generosity of the Monks, yet with a sadness in the eyes that cannot be ignored. If I were less afraid of disease, ebola or rabies, I would most certainly build my own ark of lost animal souls, starting here in Bangkok.

Dampened by the drizzling rain and oppressive heat we managed to make time for one more Wat, Wat Pho - one of the largest and oldest in the area, before closing time and got to bask in the glow of a huge, reclining golden buddha looking happy as can be and stretching the length of a football field with mother of pearl feet delicatly placed at the far end of the temple. Beauty upon beauty, this particular Wat looked like something out of Asian Alice in Wonderland, and I wanted to drink the tea.

With low batt we needed a recharge and Laura, Sharlene and I all caught yet another tuk tuk back to our hostel. Knowing I would meet up with Laura again, after Shar heads back to the States on Tuesday we bid adieu and moved into room 102, as our room from the evening prior had already been booked. This particular room was an oversized casket, but I am easy to please and was so exhausted that I passed out, covered in the grime of the city and accumulating welts from the mosquitos.

Seeming to become a habit, I work after midnight to shower and change, offering myself no help in the lackluster beauty regime I typically keep and was out again before long, wet and in my Sutter Memorial scrubs sleep was greedily consumed.

Ta Ta I am Off to Thailand

Awaking before the sun lit the sky I knew I was in for a long day.

A day better suited for the likes of John Candy in my mother's favorite 'Planes Trains and Automobiles' fraught with the aforementioned, several time zones and what I can only imagine to be a cacophony of calories only sourced from places like airports and train depots.

Tightly swaddled in my freshly purchased fur lined leggings and delicately mixing it with every pattern and color scheme known to man, I was ready. I was ready to hit the road for what was bound to be yet another adventure, another chapter in my already schizophrenic memoir.

Or was I?

With personal tragedy comes lots of introspection and already possessing and over-sized cranium that works harder than the North Pole in Winter introspection, speculation and preponderance have pretty much over taken my life.

Some big decisions have been made and some big changes lay in wait, leaving me a month in South East Asia with  a couple pair of leggings, some beat to shit Converse, my camera and the time and space to figure out who I am without the person who made me.

I've contemplated teaching English in Costa Rica, priced out a ticket to take me 'round the world in a whole lot more than 80 days and considered moving to a number of domestic locations, most romantically New Orleans.

And this is where I landed, 1,000 pound bag on my back and my homeless chic attire in full bloom. Passport in hand and nothing but uncertainty as far as the eye can see.

An easy check in at ANA Airlines, a nickname from a dear friend, seems to be to be a good sign and free Halloween candy at the counter solidifies my suspicion.

And with a fun sized Milky Way in my breast pocket, I'm off. Off on the sort of flight bursting at the seems with people who so clearly look nothing like me, or me like them and who say things like 'thank you for your cooperation' when my inquiry into the procurement of hot tea is met with a disappointing no - as tea is saved for a later point in my 20 hour flight. I can only imagine this is more of a cultural 'lost in translation' than actual gratitude for me not throwing a full blown air fit.

One of my most favorite things about international flights is not the actual silverware or mandatory blanket and pillow but the extensive supply of current American movie titles I never got a chance to see but had accumulated on my mental 'gotta see at some point' list.

After watching a teen tearjerker about kids with cancer and not so much as a heavy mist in my big brown eyes I begin to flip through the options and seeing 'Taken 2' available in Japanese, Portuguese and English I burst into tears.

That is the funny thing about grief. That is the funny thing about loving someone despite the fact no longer at home reading, or working, or writing a report due on Monday, but gone. Gone completely. Gone in a way that can't be altered or adjusted or negotiated in any way. The kind of gone you just simply have to deal with it. And that is the kind of gone that elicits waterworks at the mere glimpse of a bad action sequel because your dad was, and will always be your own personal action hero.

10 minutes into the newly released film 'Dead Poets Society' and I can already tell Liam Neeson may have been the more prudent choice for an emotional woman like myself...

As I look out at the Japanese landscape during our decent I can't help but think back to my only other experience in Asia. Last year, en route to Vietnam I had a layover in China. Not one to get excited over much past the occasional 'Nsync concert in my teenage years I had a 'holy shit I am in China moment' and have a clear visual of calling my dad from the airport to share this rare wonderment. Wheels down in Tokyo evokes a similar sentiment and I cannot help but think the man that shared my experience via Face Time nearly a year ago will now only share experiences, like this one, in a small metal vessel tucked securely into my carry on and set for trips around the world. Life is so bitter sweet.

Bitter when you realize the love of your life is gone. Sweet when you discover a woman in her 60s seated across the aisle from you is dressed like a member of the lollipop guild sans any dash of irony, and ones faith in humanity is restored.

I wanted to be offended when I deboarded and the kind air hostesses switched immediately from their native tongue to thickly accented English. A  5'7" white girl with a Michael Jackson sweatshirt on is bound to stand out, at least a little, after all, I am in the Far East.

An extended layover in the Narita airport, offset by ramen and Instagram and the final 6 hour leg of my flight begins, through most of which I sleep. That is until those tiny paper immigration cards that seem awfully antiquated to somehow protect homeland security are handed out and I  am able to look around the plane a bit.

A man in line boarding mentioned all the 'Westerners' but I saw no chaps and spurs , heard no John Wayne impersonations,so I thought little of it. Now, as I sit here with the haze of awkward travel slumber hanging heavy over me I see Westerners really means while people and, as is the case here, old white people.

I knew Thailand had become a popular destination for those recently retired and ready to turn it up on a pre-booked tour and for the kids sporting shiny new North Face backpacks who chose a location 'safe' enough to have daddy bankroll their senior spring break abroad, but man - there are a lot of white people on this plane. Sam Jackson should make a sequel ...

Once safely on the ground in Bangkok I am not only met with the thick humidity that pulls at my pant legs as I traipse through the nighttime air, but also with my travel mate for the week, a woman part family, part friend, too complicated to explain but too amazing not to love.

She has taken advantage of my voyage and tagged along for the first week to get a taste of the Orient, and the hostel life. We will she if she survives either...

Happy Birthday, Dad.

socks for sale

if you're in the market for some new, fresh socks...

photos by yours truly.