Sometimes paradise is cloudy too

And thus it achieves perfection. 

Riding to you writing the Blue Ridge high and free--the Blue Ridge, my home, those mountains in my heart, yet how so different from the green palm-studded hills of Thailand? Yas, but more on this later. 

Tension--and resolution. That dissonant half-diminished chord taking you back into the relief of a II-V-!.

What the hell am I talking about? 

Last week was my first full week of teaching. Moments of real failure. No sugar coating here people--failure to properly execute coherent lessons. AND moments of great success. That "click" when an hour is filled with order, laughter, expansion, ease, and expedience. Aligning a workout schedule with classes has not been simple--and yet, I am finding myself in a blissful arrangement that involves a trip to the gym between my morning classes (not bad!)--this coupled with a new diet involving actual consciousness (a very new concept with me regarding food) has left me feeling GOOD. Healthy. 

Back to tension and release. The release came midday Friday after one of the aforementioned successes, gliding me into the weekend--a weekend highly anticipated and effortlessly executed. 

I was to embark for Ton Sai, a small beach cove on the West coast near Phuket, accessible only by boat and without electricity between 6am and 6pm, a rockclimbing haven (see cliffs) and a hippie chill spot, stocked with delicious food all around and hiking trails through the lizard-crawling monkey-monkeying rainforest. 

Right, and I did. 

After the typical afternoon on a tropical beach, evening thunder clouds rolled in and the sky shook with darkness. Ah, but at 6, power returns...incidentally, our beach butted up against an outdoor wooden bar (the source of at least 3 but no more than 5 fruit smoothies throughout the weekend) which, incidentally, was equipped with a stage, incidentally advertising an array of incidentally rock and roll music making apparatus, and me being me, us being us, we moseyed on over and picked up a few guitars and began to strum a bit. The resident pirate with his toolkit of English catchphrases ("You like this shit!" "You'll see me when you see me." "Why not?" "Make a BIG music!") eagerly grinned his way over and plugged us in while sitting down at the drums--then the local milkboy hopped up, we made a switcheroo, and before we knew it, we had a rock and roll outfit thrumming up sounds only the thunder could compete with. After noodling on their stratocaster for a bit I decided to create some bottom and grabbed the bass leaning up in the corner--easier to get funky down low anyways, especially seeing that all these instruments were right-handed of course, less accessible to the southpaw contingent, yet adaptability friends, yes, adaptability, a saving grace in this goofy world...where were we? Yas, making music on a beach at a bar in a thunderstorm. With an audience! Oh it was great fun--the milkboy a pure natural who could pick up any beat, akin to the albino banjo-picker in Deliverance, and Blackbeard with his silliness and rhythm guitar, smirking into the microphone "you like this shit!" or a "see me when you see me!" after every song--Rolling Stones, Clapton, a blistering rendition of "Imagine"--music is everywhere friends, and it ain't goin' nowhere. 

My weeks are spent eating delicious street Thai food. I love it. But holy mother of fuck the burger and banana split I devoured last night were practically orgasmic. 

These tropical enclaves--they are lovely, but once you see beyond the surface, quite tragic. They lack culture in many regards--80:20 White:Thai ratio. A group of Chinese tourists speaking English to the Thai waitstaff. Everything English. Cute rustic bungalows...but also dubstep bars and tailor shops and pharmacies. Shawled Thai women begging to give you a massage to make a little dough. And we are part of the problem. Me, I am. I did what I could to pick up some litter and pay homage to the land and sea by keeping quiet and reverent. After the rock and roll music and burger, of course. And all this for less than 60 bucks--food, transport, lodging...but ah, I am on a Thai salary filled with thousands of Baht amounting to significantly less than thousands of American dollars...

The evening cleared and we did a lil' pickin' and-a-grinnin' on our own down the beach into the night and hovered back on air to the quietude of our bungalows up the hill and into the palms, away from the crashing waves below. 

This morning I arose very early and with a cup of real coffee (a luxury here--the Thais don't drink much themselves but make instant concessions for the Westerners passing through) waded far out into the sea amongst coral and rusty boat propellers, only revealed during very low tide. I looked around, saw the cliffs towering above me, felt the salt and sand on my, in my body, the palms bowing to their elemental counterparts--and I was utterly overwhelmed--verklempt!--with the knowledge that everything is interconnected--you can't have rocks without water, nor humans without air, nor wooden tables without trees--in fact, nothing without the mind! All we perceive--by definition, objects of of our minds, the prevailing subject. When I ponder the sea, I ponder my mind. I am settled in mindfulness. And with this knowledge, as in I KNEW IT IN AN INSTANT, NO INSTILLATION REQUIRED, came the understanding of the impermanence of things, of every thing--and yet, it isn't this impermanence that causes us to suffer, no no, it is the attachment to something already unattachable--so why this preponderance of suffering in the face of impermanence? It is the ACCEPTANCE of such transience that brings us joy--ah, joy, yes! The spaces between the suffering! For suffering is nothing without joy, and still, joy is but an object of the mind, and on and on and on...

And coming to know this alone in the water at daybreak, I was overcome with bliss--knowing that this is empty, we are empty, we are connected, we are alive, awake, yes! But all one, the same, and all without substance, neither good nor bad or anything in between--and this, my friends, has carried me through the rest of my day. 

Up and over a cliff. Down into a lagoon. The familiarity of skipping up a mountain, feet pounding into muddy earth, muscles tensing and guiding the bones they envelop, waves of strong emotions met with smiles fueled by the knowledge of their emptiness...

I will probably be heading back. 

For the rest of the evening? A trip to the market for some fresh fruit and fish, still flopping on the chopping block--and a night of sound contemplation, preparing for another week of city life interacting with young people before another foray into the jungles and beaches of the Thai interior...my interior...

The trail provides. ทั้งหมดเป็นความสุข ...

The reason I came here

What was it? Is it?

To feed my addiction to adventure (i.e. perpetual insatiation).
To discover a new culture (again, the concept of satisfaction foreign).
To escape the winter (ok this one is deifnitely justifiable--and I can say I've pretty certainly checked this one off the list).

But the point?

To TEACH. To begin my career. And I'm learning: it isn't just the kids who receive an education in the classroom. 

After having spent weeks training, planning lessons, researching approaches, orienting with the school, meeting with colleagues...the moment of truth finally arrived last Monday...

And I was nervous. I really was. 

But teaching is like everything else: it requires a calm mind, an impulsion to adapt, a stronghold of confidence and a flicker of improvisation...and there you have it. Smiling learning kids. 

It wasn't as hard as I thought. It was (is) relatively easeful. Fun even. I spend my time writing days of the week and animals songs--not bad. It is useful (and a necessity re: peace of mind) having the guitar here. 

And the thing is--I am finding myself paying attention to myself in the classroom. What I mean is: it isn't about executing a lesson plan. It is about finding what works. Not everything I try works. So I note it. I adapt. 

And I am in "teaching kindergarten." There is an utter wealth of information previously untapped by this guy right here--and guess what? I get to learn it. PAID to learn it. Oh what a world of discovery I have before me! 

Another thing: these kids are fuckin' smart. Too smart for my bonus word on hangman today, that's for sure (it was rhinoceros. I thought it was hard). 

In other news: I am making a home in Surat Thani. Adapting quicker than I thought. I have a house and a job. Friends. A routine. I am in a real city, yet very conveniently stationed at the sternum of splendiferous sights sultaning over succulently sublime scents and subtle sounds...fuck! Like:

--tropical beaches
--jungles
--islands
--rock-climbing meccas
--dive-reefs
--limestone monoliths
--other interesting and exotic things

Where should I go this weekend...?

There were 2 dead rats at the bottom of my street today, and I didn't mind. As I was running this morning, a coconut from a towering palm overhead fell directly in front of me with a crack. I looked up and saw a sniggering youth and his friend. I looped back around so I could smile back. I ate a fish drenched in saucy ambrosia for lunch today. I like my motorbike but I like walking more. I get bad vibes when I go to Makro, the Costco equivalent. The daily floods soothe the swollen air and cool the earth--and fill my poorly designed half-covered bathtubesque balcony. So I bail it every morning with a tupperware container after I meditate. I'm reading Rumi, the Bible, the Buddha, and Hunter S. Thompson. I am obsessed with watermelon slushies. I am singing and playing a lot of Bob Dylan. The political unrest in Thailand and mounting tensions between SE Asia and China are non-existent in my world. I am adapting to the heat so much so that I get cold with the fan on at night. I miss home sometimes--pizza, rock concerts, autumn, the Sox, all of you that I LOVE--and I know that right now, I am home, too. I am a hybrid papyrus reed--floating down life's Nile, from the Appalachian Trail to Thailand and God knows where next...and it's all the same: beautifully empty in qualification, all simply existing, awake, pulsating, transient, suffering, joyful, and self-less enough to be calm. 

Fill 'er up there, God. We do need education. 

ทั้งหมดเป็นความสุข, all is bliss...

FOOD!

After experiencing a bit of blockage due to the quart of rice I eat daily I decided I needed to mix it up a bit. 

It's been a butt too long since any food left me, and for a moment there I was thinking "Dang my body is freakin' efficient!" Or "yeeeahhh I've really cut down my portion sizes!"

Nope. Just too much sticky white rice. It is the basis for everything. Except noodles--ask where you can find a dish without rice, and you get "you want noodles?" Same thing. 

And I realized this as I was trying to run my morning 10K around my favorite river island, when a thick brick dropped into my gut and as great as it felt to be sweating only a normal amount (because it isn't oppressively hot early in the morning--it's actually quite pleasant. In fact, I don't know what I'm saying, it's never oppressively hot--it's the fucking tropics and I love it) I knew I was about to sweat a lot more. 

And sweat more I did.

Luckily there was a bog hole on the island--a very hot one--but a bog hole indeed. A squatter too--even more conducive to evacuation. Cha ching. But ah but ah but ah--the toilet of absence paper, present yet again! And this time not a squirter in sight. 

But. A bowl. A little doggy dish, next to the hole, with a low-flying faucet next to it. Hmm...ok...this must be for bum splashing and subsequent hand washing, right? So, I did as the Moroccans do and did the deed--right hand only! (a slight modification for the southpaws in the building) and then splashed off and continued my run, about 15 degrees for the warmer, fantasizing about a shower.

Interesting, I thought. Nothing to flush with. No handle. Well, I guess I'll just leave it. 

Well I showered, shaved, got off to work...and at lunch I found myself pissing next to a colleague (in the bathroom, in a urinal) and relaying this story with glee--yeah, he smiled and said: that bowl? It was there for flushing. Filling and flushing. Ahhhhhh

Good thing I'm not easily embarrassed. 

Still, to remedy my situation, the larger problem I mean, I took a little trip down to Makro, the Wal-Mart equivalent (only after another aggressively rousing game of Chair Ball, cackling included--and today we couldn't resist a bit of friendly tug of war...who else works for a school principal who insists upon raucous competitive sport after lesson planning? It's brilliant! Apparently we are training for Sports Day, where the teachers tee off against the parents--and losing is NOT an option. We are being chiseled, trained, and scouted to annihilate. Good! AND I must say: as proud as I usually am to be a cyclist, I adore my motorbike. I have sacrificed my dignity to make life infinitely more convenient. Sue me.) to pick up some supplies. 

And oh, supplies I did find! 

Ham
Cheese
Peanut Butter 
Jelly
Chocolate
Lettuce
Yogurt
Mayonnaise

Yes!

It cost me a fortune but my rice-filled belly and Western sensibilities were happy. 

I returned home with my bag of treats to a scolding Dutch housemate: "Peanut butter and jelly? You silly American."

Ha! He says this now, until he wants a PB&J...

And you know, the funny thing is? I fucking miss Thai food. 

And life goes on, in bliss, in bliss. 

Sah Wat Dee, Compadre!

Let me see let me see let me see...

In Thailand, we eat lots of coconuts, yes? Its milk resides in our food, its water hydrates us on the street, its oil soothes our dirty feet (more on this later) and sautees our chilis and rice...and where do we get these coconuts? 

Trees, yes--but who gets them? 

If you thought monkeys--you're right! 

(I can't quite name the cause for the perpetually dirty feet. This is not an exceedingly dirty place. AND nobody keeps their shoes on indoors. And yet--scrubbing is futile. I must get one of these popular massages, if only for the preliminary foot scrub. My school has a dress code of black shoes...and all said shoes ever do is sit outside of the classroom I'm in). 

Monkeys get the coconuts. These monkeys are bought (from the Jungle?) by coconut farmers, enrolled in "Monkey College" for a reasonable tuition fee, and 6 months later, these little guys have been trained to pick 1,000--that's right folks, 3 zeroes--1,000 coconuts/day for their masters. On a chain. 

I don't mean to raise a stink, but I visited the monkey college last Sunday, and I am simply reporting what I saw. Yeah, it is cute that a monkey on a chain can ride on a motor bike and untie a knot...but doesn't it sound a bit like slavery? 

Hell, this is not a Thai problem--this is a human race problem. We do it everywhere. 

Sheesh. I really did not want to start this off with such spice! A little sweetness:

Today I was introduced to my Thai teaching counterparts. An interesting note: all female. 

Oh, and the cackling did ensue!! How I adore the Thai cackle!! Again--we are talking unadulterated unbridled uncontrollable laughter that persists for extended periods of time and is encouraged in any situation. What a joy to witness! 

And all I had to say was ชื่อของฉันคือกรงขัง (pom chew Nick kap)--or in terms you may have a better chance at understanding: My name is Nick--and the room was thumping, I mean thumping, with joy. Can't beat that. 

And how do the Thais welcome farang (foreigners) into their community? A bit of healthy sport! 

Chair ball: A mixture between basketball, ultimate frisbee, and rugby. 2 teams of 6--1 person from each team stands at the end of the court on a chair holding a basket, and each team tries to move through defense with a volleyball and put it in their basket, which can be moved in any which way as long as the basket keeper stays on the chair. No dribbling or moving with the ball. 

When your boss of bosses, the principal herself, is staring you down with feverish  fury in her eyes as she charges with every intent to either steal the ball or lay you flat on your ass, you know it's business time. The Thais take their chair ball very seriously. And all the lovable hyenas on the sidelines cackling and cheering away with every dip dive and duck.  

The farang delivered a fair snubbing in the first half but were quickly humbled by a retaliatory whipping in half 2. The Thais would not go down easily. It came down to a tie breaker--a shootout!--and just by chance 'twas I with ball in hand, needing to sink a bucket to secure a victory. 

What happened? Let's just say we taught 'em farang ain't nothin' to be messed with. I reflexively supplied a spontaneous rendition of an American Football touchdown dance...oh the cackles! 

I have found a gym. A kickass gritty gym that reminds be of an old boxing gym in Southie--you half expect Marky Mark to pop out of nowhere and bust a cap in yer wicked fuckin' ass. I have a favorite "restaurant" (street food vendor). I know 1 shortcut. I have doubled my Thai this last week. I did my laundry (well, I dropped it off at one of the ubiquitous street-laundresses and came back a few hours later to a neatly folded bag of lemony smelling clothes). I frequent the same coffee shop AND I order the same thing every time (fuckin' watermelon pineapple slushy so good...)

The point is: I am not just visiting. I am home. My life with a Thai accent, a kick of green chili--and moderated by some coconut monkey slave milk. 

Can't wait to start educating these little buggers. The kids, I mean. 

Until later....ทั้งหมดคือความสุขทั้งหมดที่มีความสุข 

When you begin to get to know a place...

...it can still feel new and exciting, but that oh so ever-present reality of glaring imperfection begins to set in.

But I thought the point of life was to be always happy, all the time...(says the whining child within, unable to deal with life's imperfections, the pockmarks of existence's slightly overcooked lattice cherry pie)!

I wonder what the Dali Lama would say...probably the same thing if you asked him what kind of pizza he'd like: "Make me one with all." 

And all, the "all"--consisting of, drumroll please.......all. (To the unsatisfied pie-rejecting toddler within: that means even the crumbly bits you silly bugger...)

Why all this build-up re: the acceptance of life's imperfections? To be honest, it is kinda a big deal for me. A major stumbling block leading to frequent and palpable suffering. 

(A side-note: I have never been around so many Brits in my entire life, except when in England. I keep saying bugger and rubbish and knackered and cheeky.....it actually doesn't suck).

Amusement: before moving to Surat, all the eager and naive prospective teachers here with me (including myself) Google image searched our new home and came out with this:

And when we arrived found this:

Not bad, but different, no? And ah, the shock of a new place begins to wane when you find that you must actually survive, and your version of surviving is different from their version...

The previous days have presented me with various challenges:

The gym doesn't open until 9 am. 

You can't drink the water. 

I can't seem to figure out how to unlock my cell phone. 

I can speak a negligible amount of Thai. A useless, pointless amount. 

It is hot. Very hot. 

I was feeling the weight of these difficulties upon me. Why isn't everything like Charlottesville!? he whines. Out of all the places I've been--Thailand is perhaps the strangest. To me. 

But ah! In the moment of wanting to open your lungs to the sky and curse the gods begging for the instant acquisition of a foreign language or even just one drop of rain...

You don't get what you want--but you DO get something infinitely more valuable:

Perspective. And a pair of big boy pants. 

a) I signed up for this

b)Life is fucking hard dummy

c) It is actually pretty damn cool being here...

And so--to get to the gym? We go in the evenings. 

To get water? We haggle with the water lady down the street cause we heard that a jug is only 10 baht and she is trying to sell it for 100, only to realize that 100 is the bottle deposit after she calls her "English-speaking" friend to explain and when we try to bring it home on our motorbike it falls off crashing to the street and bursting as we round the last bend to our house so we go back to buy another and this time all goes well but when we return home we realize we already have one...

To unlock the phone? We contact AT & T. We wait. We bask in the joy of not having a cell phone for the next few days!

We learn some bloody Thai! And use hand gestures in the meantime. Luckily you can just point to food. Oh, the food, yes, yes!

No anecdote to the heat yet. But Lord it beats the cold! I kinda like it actually.

A nice touch: one must remove their shoes before entering any building. So we're always prancing about in our stocking feet over here. A bit cute. 

Some isms: 

--writing someone's name in red ink means they'll die

--it is bad luck to get a haircut on Wednesday

--cheese does not exist

--toilet paper goes in the trashcan 

And the best part is: I am really enjoying making lesson plans for the little tykes. Gonna teach 'em "ya'll." As in: hey, I like my job. 

Today I rose early. Took a glorious run by the river. Worked. Picked up some luscious fruit from the market down the street. Ate said fruit. Went to the gym to get a membership. Going to relax with my housemate and take a Thai lesson. Meditate on my balcony as the evening sets in. 

And why this obsession with qualification? Good, bad--these judgments: they only spawn resentment and disappointment. 

In the presence of life's difficulties, both in Thailand and the States, I write you from this very spot, a page nearly pristine with naivete--sickness, ignorance--and a drop of acceptance's ink falls, and begins to seep, slowly but thickly, into the fibers of this page's previously unadulterated but unaware, unREAL world of fantasy...

Does that make sense? 

Life is. 

ทั้งหมดคือความสุขทั้งหมดที่มีความสุข ...

Rambutan

Home: where the outstanding unknowable cheap street food is

Such an excitable mind I have, programmed for the immediate pleasures of life, swimming in bliss as my body consumes its 3rd ridiculously good Thai meal. It's just mainly all I can think about right now. 

24 hours has given us so much to report!

Arriving in Suratthani, my new home in the South, all I knew was that I needed to find Phantip bus and take it to Phantip Office. Seems simple, but the mind has a way of complicating things (what if no one speaks English and I am forced to decipher Thai's impossible runes?)...but I didn't fret because the trail provides.

And yes, the trail does provide--a major difference between my present state and the trip to Brazil 3 years ago--I had my hike in between. And Lord do I feel markedly more at ease! Brazil became familiar of course, but my initial daily wanderings were characterized by excitement and anxiety, whereas here, the excitement is slightly dulled (because unfamiliar territory is no longer so unfamiliar), but the anxiety is non-existent. So says the man who has been in Thailand for 24 hours. Ha!

Right, so I descended the plane, and yes! First thing I see--in English--is a sign for "Phantip Bus." I told the girl I wanted to get on this bus. She and four other youths a bit younger than myself led me out back to a van parked behind the airport and we piled in. They all worked for the bus company--I was the only passenger. 

As soon as the van started up they began to jabber incessantly. And giggle. Guffaw. In fact, they had burst out with sheer unadulterated laughter. And as we drove down the left side of the street (that's how they do it here) the laughter increased, until the entire van was shaking with their roars, and of course I had not a clue as to what was so funny, but I could not help but join in, and before I knew it we were barreling down a highway through the Thai countryside all in side-splitting hysterics. It was utterly surreal. 

They could have been laughing at me. Who cares?

When we arrived at Phantip, there was no one there to meet me. I borrowed a cell phone and called Poppy, my primary contact, and she sent someone down immediately. Many Thais have taken on American nicknames, like Poppy, Olive, Petunia, Beyonce...it is amusing. 

My courier asked if I was hungry and I said oh yes very but that I would grab some dinner once I settled into the apartment. Still he insisted that we stop at 7-11 to nourish me, pointing out all the things that are good and all the things that aren't. I ate some weird spicy meatballs in a bag that were actually fuckin' delicious. Even the convenient store food here is out of sight. 

And so far on this journey at least 10 people have stopped me to ask about my traveling guitar--it works its magic everywhere. I will never put that thing in a case again. The ultimate conversation starter. She belongs on the outside of my pack. Any name suggestions?

My apartment is rapidly growing on me. It is in a fantastic location in the center of town near the river, equipped with balconies and an AC unit. And a king size bed! It is slightly dingy, a bit rickety and dirty, but perfectly good for me. I've only found 3 or 4 roaches so far, and one was dead. The trouble is, I just don't have the heart to kill the little buggers--I'll catch one and then "it will escape." The apartment is also equipped with its very own house cat who likes to pop into my room for purring stroking sessions. I'm sharing the place with a Dutchman who holds an Irish passport and is pleasant and plays music--and mentioned a need for alone time. I think we'll get on well. 

Oh yes--and I was thrilled to note the bedet in the bathroom. So necessary in tropical climates. One must stay fresh, no?

Here is an amusing anecdote:

A British fellow who is moving out tomorrow offered me a ride on his motorbike (one of which I will be purchasing for personal use in the coming days) to the department store to get a power adapter. I grabbed a pair of shorts too and offered my credit card to pay for them. The cashier printed the slip and I signed, but then she shook her head no (while still smiling, of course--when in doubt, smile, even if you're giving/receiving bad news), showing me that the signature on the back of my card does not match the one I had just written on the receipt. And indeed they didn't--because the back of my card reads "Ask For ID"--an added security measure slowly catching on in America. We tried explaining in a hundred different ways that it was not a signature, but a security measure, and I showed her my ID (which has a signature on it)--there is even a picture of me on my card along with my name which also printed on the receipt. But this is useless to someone who thinks that English resembles the same monkey scratches that Thai seems to me. She called over another fellow who claimed to speak English but couldn't, and it was all kind of silly, until the British fellow I was with got a brilliant idea: to write "Ask For ID" on the receipt. I did such, and without a question or a blink, the cashier handed over my purchase to me and we left the store giggling. 

So from now on, everything I buy with a card will be signed by a fellow named "Ask For ID." So much for added security!

The saleswoman who gave me my shorts was also giggling with her associates--perhaps it is me they are laughing at. Oh well, I'm sure I am pretty silly to them. The joy present here is so palpable and refreshing--my mission will be to excavate how genuine it is.

This morning I meditated on my balcony then threw on some workout duds and hit the pavement for a run. No one here runs. Pedestrians have such little say in the constant flurry of whirring motorbikes. And pickup trucks! No tiny Euro cars here. Hundreds of pickup trucks and motorbikes. Anyway, I ran down to the river and over a bridge, and came across another bridge leading to an island. The island looked lush and inviting--it turned out to be a sort of rec park, with outdoor exercise equipment, volleyball courts, and a trail around the perimeter, and even a Buddha shrine. I will be returning. 

The rest of my day has been spent strolling through the city, picking up essentials (top sheets and hand towels!), and sampling various street vendors. Wow. It is all so varied, so full of flavor, so spicy (I was burn burn burning with a Ring of Fire this morning--thank you bedet--) so mouth-wateringly delicious, and so bloody cheap. 60 Baht here, 40 Baht there--for full meals (30 Baht=1 dollar)!

Suratthani bears an uncanny resemblance to Salvador, Brazil. The shops and streets, the weather, even the rotting trash smell (which has a fishy afternote to it--and you know, the funny thing is, it is kind of putridly addictive, as in I catch myself taking a nice big whiff when I pass the trash pile on my street). Yet, it is cleaner. The folks seem more jovial and welcoming to foreigners. And there are no homeless people. I haven't seen a single one--an unprecedented uniquity. The language barrier can be hard. But I will learn. For now my bumbling half Thai (and inversely, their similarly mottled English) and hand motions will get me by. 

I am not living in a tropical paradise replete with beaches and mai tais. I am living in a real city, with real people, and I'm grateful (Luckily, I'm only a short boat ride away from said tropical paradises--har har har!).

I look forward to connecting more with the international community here. The other teachers. I look forward to having a motorbike. I don't really look forward to inevitable hardships, but I will accept them with attempted grace. Even gratitude. I look forward to discovering this city as I more deeply discover myself. I look forward to connecting with and inspiring children. And after this long list of future desires, really, I truly seek freedom from desire, and the stability to exist wholly and completely in this very moment. 

Not so easy.

Stay tuned. 

ทั้งหมดคือความสุขทั้งหมดที่มีความสุข ...

Can you count the pickup trucks?

A new life?

Of course, you can't really prepare for a moment like this. 

Yeah, you can get your visa. Plane tickets. Pack. You can tell all your friends. But it never really sinks in that you're moving to Thailand until you're sailing over India at 5 am witnessing a truly Eastern sunrise...(yet in a round world what does east even mean?)

I awoke 2 days ago at the same hour in a dark house in Virginia with my stomach juggling the previous night's ceviche, imploring me, really forcing me, to spring up and hit the head. I guess intense nausea was my body's way of telling my mind to relax--ah, the wonders of distraction. 

I slogged through bus rides, city traverses on foot, and DC rush hour traffic with my pack (a bit heavier this time around, but I don't have to walk nearly as far...) holding my stomach and trying not to collapse. I appreciated my extended family's presence en route to the airport--the Indian restaurant we stopped at simultaneously tickling and torturing my taste buds--and before I knew it I was descending into Abu Dhabi 12 hours later munching on the last homemade granola I'll eat in a long time and smiling like a goddamn ghost. 

And looking out over the rivers and palms through the billowy clouds of the Asian Sky (again: round world--Asian Sky? Sky is just all encompassing! We think these things are owned...a sensation dispelled via round world sky travel, yaas) I thought that wow, I really am changing my life pretty drastically. Everything I know is dissipating and all that comes hence shall be new...I was gripped with fear, excitement, and a deeper knowledge that that is simply not true. 

Stepping into Bangkok I first noticed heat. Not so much air. Thickness of heat. And smiles! And different colored people. And Subway, 711, Burger King, and English everywhere. 

I am grateful for my ease of movement thus far--traversing Thailand's capital at 8 am would have been much harder without the help of the American Presence. But I couldn't help feeling a little sad. It's true that Thailand has never been colonized--at least militarily. In other ways? 

I already feel good vibrations all around me. I've been here 6 hours and it IS different. I know this. I have so much to absorb! For example: to my dismay Thailand does not support Netflix. But ah--a handy google search on how to acquire a US IP address...and it's like I never left home. 

Hell, I still haven't even gotten home yet. 

Where is home?

My new apartment in Surat Thani, the City of Good People? Boston, my hometown? Charlottesville, the city I chose to live in as an adult? 

Here's the point: I am changing locations.  Traversing. My life will be very different. But I ain't leavin' anything behind. Just adding to the pile. Traversing. Inside. Same old Bootsy. 

ทั้งหมดคือความสุขทั้งหมดที่มีความสุข ...