Positivity has never been my strong suit.
I believe sarcasm lends itself to hilarity, of course, but it can also slip into glass half full syndrome quite easily.
Given the current circumstances of my real life, not the one I am living out for a month in Southeast Asia, I almost feel entitled not to be positive and to bathe in my anger; bask in my disappointment.
Luckily, when feeling this lost you have those close to you, and sometimes those not, to help lift you out.
I have spent my late twenties and early thirties feeling rejected and abandoned by the loss of relationships with people I most certainly never thought I would lose. Some have hit harder and come at less opportune moments than others.
Having a month away doesn't mean real life stops. With modern technology and access to WiFi keeps one up to date on 'house sitters' who refuse to pay, piling bills that cannot be accessed internationally, and friends who have long kept count of your fallibility and infractions and it's all happening in real time. Add to this he feeling of impotence only being 10,000 miles away from home could invoke.
Sitting on the pier watching the sun sink into the sky on my last night in Krabi after visiting some beaches, eating some food and being a general bad-ass on my motorbike that I would like to sneak into my carry on, I am trying something new.
I am trying not to focus on the bad, the negative, and in turn I am trying to appreciate the warmth of the evening and say thank you to the friends that pick up when I call crying from across the globe and tell me they love me. It is their confidence in me, as well as my own I must focus on because, without my biggest cheerleader here to support me any longer, I simply have to do it for myself. Just like tying your shoes, but for big girls.
Despite my melancholy I truly did enjoy my last day in Krabi, spending most of it getting my motor running and hitting the highway on my sporty purple and orange crotch rocket. Always having a disdain for motorcycles after a family accident that took place before I was born, I now see the appeal and feel that I just may have to make a scooter my first motorized vehicle in over a decade.
Having rented the bike for the entire day I finally made my way to Ao Nang which, though populated by many an old, fat white tourists was not nearly as bad as many of the hippies back at my commune would have had you believe.
I got some color (see: freckles) , and made another attempt at Pad Thai at a small local restaurant, coming to the conclusion that my favorite restaurant in the city by the bay just, hands down, has the best Thai food in the world.
After showering, packing and finding a book in the backpackers library that wasn't missing the first 3 chapters I hopped on my bike to make it to the Terrace, a near by restaurant that is situated on top of a hill looking out at the water, but because it was night I got the watch the blue and purple flashes of lightning that come with a balmy rainstorm in the tropics as I consumed my banana fritters and pulp fiction.
Some bonding with the staff at Krabi was had, as was some window shopping in their on site store that made me feel like a waif, so I loved it - but not enough to purchase anything and I was off to bed. A restless sleep an hour at a time, checking my phone, dealing with business back at home and finally, at 5 am, rising to catch a cab to the airport with two other American girls who had been at the Banana Bungalow for the past couple nights and were far too cute for their own good.
I hear people both question and commend me when I tell them I am traveling alone, especially in the third world country, and even more so when I mention how long I will be gone. I suppose both of these groups of people are right. It is freeing and wonderful to do your own thing, have time for yourself and explore the world with just your camera in hand. That being said, it can be lonely and sad and expensive without someone to share costs or moments.
Maybe this is like life, there are pros and cons to the traditional family and the single life, but I think we can all agree that life, like cake, it's better shared.
Sure, I share, through my blog, and text messages.
The past 31 countries were shared, through phone calls largely with a very specific person and though physically I was always on my own, those phone calls, fraught with affection and perspective are missed dearly and felt deeply.
Now, I need to learn a new way to travel - either completely on my own with no safety net - or with actual people. No longer is there an in between.
So I move forward, as I did when I boarded the Air Asia flight to Chiang Mai in the north of the country known for it's indigenous people and beautiful scenery.
Here for a week I will be reuniting with a fellow traveler met in Bangkok who seems to want to take every course or lesson Thailand has to offer, so we will see how my bank roll holds out and how much authentic culture in which I can immerse myself.
Thus far I have located a Burger King. So that is a start.
So we shall see what my time in Chiang Mai brings...
The following night Chiang Mai brought BK. I'm sorry, but sometimes you just gotta have it your way.
My first day in CM was mellow, some eating, some souvenir acquisition, some ambivalence about life on general, only being further perpetuated by the culture of 2 parts old white men in Tommy Bahama or biker adjacent attire, 1 part young, though not disturbingly so, Asian women wearing Wet Seals' latest fashions and 1 part classic rock that makes it all seem somehow legit, like the old man from Wisconsin is having a deep, meaningful relationship with the young lady from Phuket.
Some wandering after my pork burger from the BK at which the cashier understood and delivered better on my order than any American ever has led me to streets of sex tourism at it's best which, even at it's best is the worst.
Meandering led me down some sketchy alleyways which, as a single woman with thousands of dollars worth of equipment in my bag should never navigate, I did. I simply wouldn't be Briana if I didn't.
Shortly thereafter I was safely deposited at the Royal Guest House just across the way from Chiang Mai City. A city housed withing ancient brick walls and consisting of a threading of streets fraught with Wats, goods for sale, and translucent people in southeast Asia's version of resort wear. It was fast to sleep with a page-turning book, and overhead light that made me feel like I was starring in 'Broke Down Palace' and a fan I feared would come loose at any moment and sever a major artery.
I have had strange dreams throughout Thailand and was awoken several times before finally rising in search of yoga, but settling on a run and some calisthenics essentially beside the highway here.
A quick yet unsatisfying breakfast and shower were had before heading to the Post Office where the severely physically disabled employee treated me like I was a leper, barely selling me stamps for my postcards.
Decideing to wander about to the temples and into shops I was pleasantly surpirsed when I entered the gtes of Wat Phan, built in 1501 when the city's arts and culture were flourishing and was met with it's exquisite beauty and, in turn, a moment of gratitude. It went just as quickly as it came, but as I so easily dismiss the good and focus on the bad, or so I've been told, that decided to make note of this brief moment in time. And write it down.
The architectural center warranted a visit for my future very successful architect nephew, but the 'center' was appalling when all you really have to do is look around. Luckily Wat Phantao lifted my spirits with its multicolored lanterns and flags waving proudly in the wind. I was so entranced by the sea of color that the competitive Japanese photographer studying my moves just a little too closely didn't even bother me. As an artist, I feel secure that we know when we got it - and I had it. He could shoot all he wanted on his Nikon. He didn't stand a chance against me and my Canon!
All of this site seeing works up an appetite and after sweating off of noodles yesterday after a sub-par glass noodle I incident, I found a cute little place on the other side of town and had ... Noodles. But this time they were Khao Soi noodles, Chiang Mai noodles so it was for cultural reasons more than dietary. The restaurant also played host to a couple of charming American and Canadian men respectively and even a brief chat with some men in my native tongue brightened my day.
Being asked if I was Spanish just the other day, I chose to indulge in my faux culture and take a siesta, and my acquired goods, back at the hostel.
After night had fallen I went back out to hit the streets for super sexy time like leafing through the book stores, an industry this city apparently has more of than anything else. Lost Books had two locations, an Irish proprietor and sections devoted to both Nietzsche and Kerouac, so as far as I am concerned it should garner Wat status.
Cashew chicken was greedily consimed across the street at Kat's Cafe and I got my Skype on, most certainly annoying my fellow patrons.
As I come 'home' to rest my weary head, I am met with my Bangkok buddy and as we both seem to have had pretty action packed days. It is off to bed.
Tomorrow, Chiang Rai and beyond...
