Still pumped from yesterday’s exertions at the gym and anticipating that wonderful throbbing pain that follows a good workout after a long absence. I found myself drawn by the clear skies and crisp morning air, to hit the trails on the mountain bike.
Past successes can embolden one. Leading to the search for the boundaries and limitations of ones abilities. Welcoming and even tempting ones fate. Thus emboldened I set off with little thought or preparation. A vague notion that there lie between the river and the mountains, an area of the valley yet to be explored. No maps or Google Earth, just a sense that it was over there, somewhere.
Traversing our village, the rubber plantation and another village, I soon found myself on tarmac and making good time toward my jumping off point. At speed the hum of fat nubby tires on asphalt or crunching over gravel, along with the cool breeze, is almost hypnotic. Gears make maintaining cadence easy but the slower ascent of a gradient breaks the trance and forward momentum slows. I guess one has to take the ups and downs in stride.
Stopping briefly at the construction site of a rather large western house that I have noticed on previous rides. I heard my name, called out by a worker on the rooftop. He had been part of our team of builders a few years back. Enquiring about trails in the area, it turned out that the next soi on the left, was the jumping off point that I had hypothesized.
I was soon making time on a hard packed, gravelly surface. Enjoying that familiar crunching sound. It wasn’t long before being presented with choices of direction. Even in a remote village, there are often small Thai signs pointing the way. I found one that said the Ing River was 1.5 km down a path to the left. That seemed a good choice, though I knew it could lead to a dead-end on the banks of the river.
Soon enough I found myself on the side of the river that forms sheer clifflike drops to the muddy waters below. That outer side of a bend where the water undercuts and leads to calving reminiscent of glaciers. The narrow trail seemed precariously close to the precipice but I continued on, being careful not to get too close or spend too much time taking in the view.
Leaving the river, the trail took a turn for the worse. Deeply rutted and overgrown, there was no visibility to speak of. Offshoots were many but one tries to keep to the most trodden path, hoping for a break in the foliage or a slight crest, to get ones bearings. All the while questioning the chances of backtracking to whence one came and whether this was all a big mistake.
Before long and to great relief, things opened up to an area crisscrossed by narrow cow trails. Spotted in the distance, was a little ramshackle hut. Approaching closer I noticed people inside, who despite being surprised, were friendly and helpful as they pointed me in the general direction of travel. From the dark unseen recesses of the hut a female voice offered to show me the way if I were single. I assured all, that I was dutifully fearful of my wife and didn’t think she would appreciate me taking up the offer.
Laughs were shared and the lone male understood that I was not looking for the easiest route, considering the direction from which I had stumbled upon them. As usually happens, I finally came upon a familiar place. This time, I was on the wrong side of a company gate, that had blocked my progress once before. The guard let me out and seemed not too disturbed by the crazy farang dressed in black microfiber and spandex. A little lighthearted conversation is usually all that is needed to put people at ease.
Less than three hours later I was safe at home, just in time to make my daily Skype call to Hawaii. Today was a reminder of how important it is to speak Thai. There were still moments, I have to admit, when I questioned what I was doing out there alone. I find, however, it is often those questioning moments that make life interesting and add to our pool of experience and self-knowledge. So I guess that leaves me still searching for my limits, in my own age-appropriate manner. I don’t much like getting older but I’m trying to make the best of it.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Black and White ...
The light of day finds last night’s efforts on the cutting room floor, or more correctly, in the cyber equivalent of the editor’s waste bin. Sounding too much like a shopping-list report for a travel blog and not enough like VF, its demise was swift and brutal. So this is take two, scene one and I’ll try to get it right this time.
Immediately upon loading twelve village folk into the truck, it became apparent that additional pressure would be needed in the rear tires. Yes, I was that guy today. The one with the overloaded pickup, filled to the brim with human flesh. I assure you this was not a typical day in the life of Village Farang. This was me doing social penance for my normally reclusive ways. My wife is, for the most part, very understanding of my peculiarities and quirks. As payback I sometimes step out of my comfort zone and play driver or tour guide to young and old alike.
This was an interesting mix of family. My wife’s family, what’s left of it, and the family of her sister’s present boyfriend with the addition of two other village women. Children left to their own devices can become quite loud and unruly. Vastly outnumbered by adults, as in this case of nine to three, they become much more manageable, retreating into a quiet fantasy world of their own creation. The four elders, three of whom are smokers, were crammed in the back seat which is normally folded up for Cookie’s comfort. As with all smokers, their skin, clothes and breath reeked of tobacco. My normally controlled environment was not only assaulted with unpleasant odors but with some of my least favorite sounds. There is a coarseness and indelicacy in the villager’s manner of speech, which I find unpleasant. Although I speak Thai and not Northern, my passive understanding makes it impossible to completely ignore the subject matter as well.
Focusing my attentions as best I could on the task at hand, we proceeded first to the Black Village and later to the White Temple (pictures in a previous post). With the benefit of hindsight it may have been advisable to deal with the vast crowds and starkness of the White Temple first, before proceeding to the deeper, richer colors and wooded acreage of the Black Village. Lunch break was a picnic at Chiang Rai Beach, as it is known. After an obligatory stop at an outdoor market to buy food for dinner we headed for home.
I mistakenly chose the route leaving from the five-way intersection, thinking it would avoid the heavy Sunday traffic. We ended up in a very rural traffic jam. Our lane was completely filled with a herd of beautiful, almost blue-gray water-buffalo, lumbering along oblivious to the chaos they were creating. As if that were not enough to deal with, the other lane was occupied by large trailers unloading their massive harvesting machines. It was an interesting juxtaposition of past and present, the natural and the mechanized. I’m pretty sure from the erratic driving of those around me, that I held a minority view of the interesting nature of our dilemma. In any event there was nothing for it but to wait for our four legged friends to choose a field to enter, allowing us in our metal boxes, to get back to our mad rush through life.
In the end I survived my ordeal and hopefully will remember to reduce the pressure in my tires to avoid the rear end from doing untoward things on our next outing.
Immediately upon loading twelve village folk into the truck, it became apparent that additional pressure would be needed in the rear tires. Yes, I was that guy today. The one with the overloaded pickup, filled to the brim with human flesh. I assure you this was not a typical day in the life of Village Farang. This was me doing social penance for my normally reclusive ways. My wife is, for the most part, very understanding of my peculiarities and quirks. As payback I sometimes step out of my comfort zone and play driver or tour guide to young and old alike.
This was an interesting mix of family. My wife’s family, what’s left of it, and the family of her sister’s present boyfriend with the addition of two other village women. Children left to their own devices can become quite loud and unruly. Vastly outnumbered by adults, as in this case of nine to three, they become much more manageable, retreating into a quiet fantasy world of their own creation. The four elders, three of whom are smokers, were crammed in the back seat which is normally folded up for Cookie’s comfort. As with all smokers, their skin, clothes and breath reeked of tobacco. My normally controlled environment was not only assaulted with unpleasant odors but with some of my least favorite sounds. There is a coarseness and indelicacy in the villager’s manner of speech, which I find unpleasant. Although I speak Thai and not Northern, my passive understanding makes it impossible to completely ignore the subject matter as well.
Focusing my attentions as best I could on the task at hand, we proceeded first to the Black Village and later to the White Temple (pictures in a previous post). With the benefit of hindsight it may have been advisable to deal with the vast crowds and starkness of the White Temple first, before proceeding to the deeper, richer colors and wooded acreage of the Black Village. Lunch break was a picnic at Chiang Rai Beach, as it is known. After an obligatory stop at an outdoor market to buy food for dinner we headed for home.
I mistakenly chose the route leaving from the five-way intersection, thinking it would avoid the heavy Sunday traffic. We ended up in a very rural traffic jam. Our lane was completely filled with a herd of beautiful, almost blue-gray water-buffalo, lumbering along oblivious to the chaos they were creating. As if that were not enough to deal with, the other lane was occupied by large trailers unloading their massive harvesting machines. It was an interesting juxtaposition of past and present, the natural and the mechanized. I’m pretty sure from the erratic driving of those around me, that I held a minority view of the interesting nature of our dilemma. In any event there was nothing for it but to wait for our four legged friends to choose a field to enter, allowing us in our metal boxes, to get back to our mad rush through life.
In the end I survived my ordeal and hopefully will remember to reduce the pressure in my tires to avoid the rear end from doing untoward things on our next outing.
Enjoy Black Village
Friday, October 16, 2009
City ...
The day begins differently in the city. Step through the door of our friend's condo. Negotiate a narrow corridor. Step into a metal box and plummet nine floors to the chaotic world that awaits bellow. Senses are bombarded by a cacophony of sights, sounds and smells. Village smells are not all pleasant but they are separate, distinct and recognizable. City smells are an altogether different beast. Though of indeterminate source, they nonetheless permeate the air and linger on skin and clothing.
City "trails" are made of concrete, brick and asphalt but are no less technical to traverse than an alpine scree slope. As one progresses further down the soi the obstacles increase in number and complexity. Vendors, storefronts, stands, tables, chairs, plants, poles, signage, animals, customers, pedestrians, cars, tuk-tuks, and motorcycles. From above there are drain pipes, low hanging awnings and the ever-present confusing web of cables and wires, leading to who knows what from who knows where.
Riding in a taxi it is perhaps best to distract yourself with music or conversation with a friend. Whatever you do don’t watch the world passing inches from your window at speed. If you find yourself on a boat on the river, then enjoy the views but keep your mouth from gaping in awe. If one can make it to the Skytrain things begin to make sense. Entering Paragon, Central World or one of the lovely hotel lobbies or health clubs we used to frequent and the world turns several shades of pretty. People in these places bear little resemblance to village or street people. Hygiene, attire, gait, style, demeanor and appearance make for an eye-catching dance of humanity at its most stylish.
Shopping was frantic yet productive. Meals were delicious. Catching up and conversation with old friends, was warm and joyful, filled with laughter and remembrance. Things went well and there were some obvious high points but I must say when we landed in Chiang Rai, loaded the bags into the truck and started down the road, we were struck by the green tranquil beauty of the open spaces. I seemed to take my first deep breath in days, exhaled and melted deeper into my seat behind the wheel. Back in my world at last, the ride home was a joy to be topped only by a good doggy greeting of tongue, tail and wreathing fur and flesh. And of course, ones own bed never feels so welcoming as after a few days absence.
Don’t know that I will be eager to travel to Bangkok again for awhile but our time in the city did serve to heighten awareness of what is now important to me. So I guess the city still has value. Not least of all, as a looking glass to highlight what I love about where I am these days.
City "trails" are made of concrete, brick and asphalt but are no less technical to traverse than an alpine scree slope. As one progresses further down the soi the obstacles increase in number and complexity. Vendors, storefronts, stands, tables, chairs, plants, poles, signage, animals, customers, pedestrians, cars, tuk-tuks, and motorcycles. From above there are drain pipes, low hanging awnings and the ever-present confusing web of cables and wires, leading to who knows what from who knows where.
Riding in a taxi it is perhaps best to distract yourself with music or conversation with a friend. Whatever you do don’t watch the world passing inches from your window at speed. If you find yourself on a boat on the river, then enjoy the views but keep your mouth from gaping in awe. If one can make it to the Skytrain things begin to make sense. Entering Paragon, Central World or one of the lovely hotel lobbies or health clubs we used to frequent and the world turns several shades of pretty. People in these places bear little resemblance to village or street people. Hygiene, attire, gait, style, demeanor and appearance make for an eye-catching dance of humanity at its most stylish.
Shopping was frantic yet productive. Meals were delicious. Catching up and conversation with old friends, was warm and joyful, filled with laughter and remembrance. Things went well and there were some obvious high points but I must say when we landed in Chiang Rai, loaded the bags into the truck and started down the road, we were struck by the green tranquil beauty of the open spaces. I seemed to take my first deep breath in days, exhaled and melted deeper into my seat behind the wheel. Back in my world at last, the ride home was a joy to be topped only by a good doggy greeting of tongue, tail and wreathing fur and flesh. And of course, ones own bed never feels so welcoming as after a few days absence.
Don’t know that I will be eager to travel to Bangkok again for awhile but our time in the city did serve to heighten awareness of what is now important to me. So I guess the city still has value. Not least of all, as a looking glass to highlight what I love about where I am these days.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
A Dog’s Life ...
It was once possible to stroll down the forest path to the dam, extend your arms and find your hands had vanished from view amidst the lush foliage on either side. Sure there were ruts and rocks, thorns and mud puddles to be navigated but that just added to the sense of accomplishment at the end of the trail. After a recent upgrade, the term trail is no longer appropriate. Two lane highway, now comes to mind. Sure it is still dirt beneath a sprinkling of gravel but the width and more even gradient makes for a different kind of walk. While the distance remains the same the effort expended seems less. The mental effort is reduced as well. Hardly any need to watch your step to keep your balance. With little need to look down I suppose one is freer to look up and across the landscape. Cookie shows no sign of being incensed by the forward march of progress. She bounds ahead with her unrelenting enthusiasm, undaunted by a break with the past and intently focused on new sights and smells. The mental health and balance of a dog is perhaps something to be aspired to.
Speaking of health, we spent much of yesterday in the corridors of an unfamiliar environment. I am guessing it had been eight or nine years since our last physicals and thought it was perhaps time to let someone check on our internal heath. I seem to remember a tonsillectomy as a child and a broken leg as an adult but that is pretty much the sum total of my hospital experience. Since coming to Thailand in 1975 I have been a devout self-medicator (my own word). A little reading and a close relationship with a skilled pharmacist and I was good to go. The recent rash of family and village deaths has left my wife a little rattled and thinking more about things like health and life insurance. Even with an uncle retired from the business, I have never trusted insurance companies. I view them in a similar light as the large casinos. The odds seem overwhelmingly stacked in their favor or they would not be able to build such obscene edifices to their grandeur.
As a first step down the road to helping my wife cope, a checkup seemed the way to go. We did get impatient by afternoon and left with one remaining procedure for her and the reading of our results by a doctor. We will reschedule the completion on another day when it might not be quite such an inconvenience. Overall I found the scene that unfolded around us in the hospital quite foreign and unpleasant. It reminded me a little, of the time I have spent in my parent’s retirement home. Unhealthy, unattractive and unhappy people meandering around in a desperate slow-motion dance with death but representing a broader range of age groups, from newborn to very old.
Perhaps it is all down to luck and good genes but then again my distinct lack of vices may have played a part as well. Whatever the reason my preference is to focus on getting as much joy and experience out of living as I can. Trying to avoid or postpone death indefinitely seems to me to be a sucker’s game. I will, however, find ways to comfort and reassure my wife as she goes through this period of grief, questioning and uncertainty. With the inevitability of death, it seems clear to me, that how we live is the only thing we can exert control over. Accidents do happen and living a “perfect” life is no guarantee of a long healthy existence, but high-risk habits and behaviors are nonetheless, not in ones best interest. Of course you would not get that message by looking around and observing how others live. I think I will continue aspiring to being a little more like Cookie everyday. The here and now of a dog’s life seems pretty good right now.
Speaking of health, we spent much of yesterday in the corridors of an unfamiliar environment. I am guessing it had been eight or nine years since our last physicals and thought it was perhaps time to let someone check on our internal heath. I seem to remember a tonsillectomy as a child and a broken leg as an adult but that is pretty much the sum total of my hospital experience. Since coming to Thailand in 1975 I have been a devout self-medicator (my own word). A little reading and a close relationship with a skilled pharmacist and I was good to go. The recent rash of family and village deaths has left my wife a little rattled and thinking more about things like health and life insurance. Even with an uncle retired from the business, I have never trusted insurance companies. I view them in a similar light as the large casinos. The odds seem overwhelmingly stacked in their favor or they would not be able to build such obscene edifices to their grandeur.
As a first step down the road to helping my wife cope, a checkup seemed the way to go. We did get impatient by afternoon and left with one remaining procedure for her and the reading of our results by a doctor. We will reschedule the completion on another day when it might not be quite such an inconvenience. Overall I found the scene that unfolded around us in the hospital quite foreign and unpleasant. It reminded me a little, of the time I have spent in my parent’s retirement home. Unhealthy, unattractive and unhappy people meandering around in a desperate slow-motion dance with death but representing a broader range of age groups, from newborn to very old.
Perhaps it is all down to luck and good genes but then again my distinct lack of vices may have played a part as well. Whatever the reason my preference is to focus on getting as much joy and experience out of living as I can. Trying to avoid or postpone death indefinitely seems to me to be a sucker’s game. I will, however, find ways to comfort and reassure my wife as she goes through this period of grief, questioning and uncertainty. With the inevitability of death, it seems clear to me, that how we live is the only thing we can exert control over. Accidents do happen and living a “perfect” life is no guarantee of a long healthy existence, but high-risk habits and behaviors are nonetheless, not in ones best interest. Of course you would not get that message by looking around and observing how others live. I think I will continue aspiring to being a little more like Cookie everyday. The here and now of a dog’s life seems pretty good right now.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Funeral Procession ...
Today marks four weeks since the untimely death of my wife’s younger brother. The funeral procession, for me, was the only redeeming part of a week filled with drinking, late-night gambling and people taking home a much food as they could carry before everyone else had eaten. What should have been a reverent and respectful occasion was at times far from that. As the rest of the village waited at the newly renovated cremation site, nestled in the trees on a small hill I pass on my hikes to the dam, monks, family and friends escorted the body to the site.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Adjusting to Village Life ...
Recently there was a thread on a Thailand forum about the difficulties of adjusting to village life in Thailand. For some it was not easy but doable. For others it seems, it was something verging on the impossible. It struck me that some of those who suffered the most had no chance from the very beginning. If you start off by scraping the bottom of the social barrel to fine a partner and then precede to try living among the poorest of the poor in a remote rural location...well I think you can start to see where that might lead. That scenario would hardly be possible for the vast majority of big city Thais, let alone a foreigner.
It would surely take a different sort of “farang animal” to go all “National Geographic” and live a primitive existence devoid of all western amenities, comforts and conveniences. Throw-in an inability to understand or talk to anyone and things can turn ugly and the bottom of a bottle can seem like the only way out.
Some suffer under the delusion that village life will be super cheap. While fixed overhead is lower than in the city, startup costs to feather you nest and make life bearable can be a little pricy. I had lived in Thailand long enough to know in advance what I would need to make the move to a village. Perhaps not the same for everyone but something that needs to be dealt with honestly and well in advance.
For example, I knew I would need a dwelling much different from the typical village shack and at a reasonable distance from the standard noises, smells and hubbub of village life. Other necessities included a good truck, motorcycle, mountain-bike, hiking shoes, camera and dogs. In the house I needed air-conditioning and a bug-free environment. Telephone, internet, the best computer I could afford, True Vision for western TV/News and some hobbies to exercise the body and the mind.
Keeping in mind that I speak Thai, communication is still less than satisfying with most of the villagers. They for the most part, do not speak Thai, only speaking their local country dialect and many are functionally illiterate. Privacy, security, alcohol and debt are major problems and you have to have a plan for dealing with them.
If you get everything right it can be quite nice. I have a Bangkok friend who argues how easy life is for him in the city. He can catch a taxi to the Sky-train and go to this place for one thing and then to another place for something else. I laugh and say, “That is not easy.” Easy is sitting on the sofa, watching a movie you downloaded from the internet, on the big-screen TV, and your lovely wife brings you those very same things without lifting a finger. Use technology and a couple of villagers to do the grunt work and go on a well planned shopping run once a week and easy-peasy you have time for fun and adventure.
Depending on your needs and where you live, finding companionship other than your wife, can be a struggle at first but over time usually works out. I find the transient nature of expat relations in Thailand has hardened me to the fact that people come and go in ones life. Each life-change is merely one more in a long list of changes over the years, that have mostly worked out for the best. Not for everyone but village life can be good.
So if you are dreaming of retiring to a village, do your homework. Spend time there at different times of year. Learn to speak the language and pray that your partner has your best interests in mind at all times. If you can’t count on your partner, then all is lost before you begin. Sometimes you have to spend money to save money, so plan carefully. Dreaming the dream is one thing but living the dream is a very different animal.
It would surely take a different sort of “farang animal” to go all “National Geographic” and live a primitive existence devoid of all western amenities, comforts and conveniences. Throw-in an inability to understand or talk to anyone and things can turn ugly and the bottom of a bottle can seem like the only way out.
Some suffer under the delusion that village life will be super cheap. While fixed overhead is lower than in the city, startup costs to feather you nest and make life bearable can be a little pricy. I had lived in Thailand long enough to know in advance what I would need to make the move to a village. Perhaps not the same for everyone but something that needs to be dealt with honestly and well in advance.
For example, I knew I would need a dwelling much different from the typical village shack and at a reasonable distance from the standard noises, smells and hubbub of village life. Other necessities included a good truck, motorcycle, mountain-bike, hiking shoes, camera and dogs. In the house I needed air-conditioning and a bug-free environment. Telephone, internet, the best computer I could afford, True Vision for western TV/News and some hobbies to exercise the body and the mind.
Keeping in mind that I speak Thai, communication is still less than satisfying with most of the villagers. They for the most part, do not speak Thai, only speaking their local country dialect and many are functionally illiterate. Privacy, security, alcohol and debt are major problems and you have to have a plan for dealing with them.
If you get everything right it can be quite nice. I have a Bangkok friend who argues how easy life is for him in the city. He can catch a taxi to the Sky-train and go to this place for one thing and then to another place for something else. I laugh and say, “That is not easy.” Easy is sitting on the sofa, watching a movie you downloaded from the internet, on the big-screen TV, and your lovely wife brings you those very same things without lifting a finger. Use technology and a couple of villagers to do the grunt work and go on a well planned shopping run once a week and easy-peasy you have time for fun and adventure.
Depending on your needs and where you live, finding companionship other than your wife, can be a struggle at first but over time usually works out. I find the transient nature of expat relations in Thailand has hardened me to the fact that people come and go in ones life. Each life-change is merely one more in a long list of changes over the years, that have mostly worked out for the best. Not for everyone but village life can be good.
So if you are dreaming of retiring to a village, do your homework. Spend time there at different times of year. Learn to speak the language and pray that your partner has your best interests in mind at all times. If you can’t count on your partner, then all is lost before you begin. Sometimes you have to spend money to save money, so plan carefully. Dreaming the dream is one thing but living the dream is a very different animal.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sell-by Date ...
In a recent email exchange with one of my readers, it was indirectly implied that perhaps my blog had reached its sell-by date. Possibly a quote would be helpful here.
“I think the problem with blogging is that the source of interesting factual material cannot keep coming at the same pace all the time. I notice that most blogs have a readable life-span of maybe a year or so after which they fade away, (some become so banal, trite and trivial they should be put down).”
This could explain the prolonged drought that I am presently experiencing with regard to my blog. I have secretly begun to question if I am arrogant enough to presume that my ramblings can continue on indefinitely or if there is some finite lifespan to what I am doing here. I steadfastly refuse to become a recycler of other’s news or offerings. I’m not in the repackaging and rebranding business. I would rather go to the source and form my own opinions and suggest others do the same.
In truth there has been no shortage of material lately but it has all been far too personal a private to be dragged upon this page. Revealing myself is one thing, but I do draw the line at being gossipy and overly revealing of others and their life foibles or misfortunes. So there has been an abundance of dancing neurons in the gray matter but my fingers have been on holiday, as I question the necessity or merit of writing any of this down for the titillation of others.
As for today’s title, it is a favorite of mine and I use it frequently in relation to those who discover Thailand later in life. Without youth, looks, charm or potential, and as late entries to the game, they are often required to come up with a buy-in fee to step upon the playing field. Even then most are relegated to playing in the minor leagues and never no the joy of playing in the Big Leagues (The Show) of the majors. I believe it is this phenomenon, of having passed ones sell-by date, that leads to many a farang’s notion that we are seen only as an ATM for Thai women. Realistically what else do men in the winter or autumn of their lives have to offer, to those they pursue? But...that is a discussion for another day.
Today’s question is how much longer can I keep this up and is there any merit in doing so? I’m afraid I have no answer.
“I think the problem with blogging is that the source of interesting factual material cannot keep coming at the same pace all the time. I notice that most blogs have a readable life-span of maybe a year or so after which they fade away, (some become so banal, trite and trivial they should be put down).”
This could explain the prolonged drought that I am presently experiencing with regard to my blog. I have secretly begun to question if I am arrogant enough to presume that my ramblings can continue on indefinitely or if there is some finite lifespan to what I am doing here. I steadfastly refuse to become a recycler of other’s news or offerings. I’m not in the repackaging and rebranding business. I would rather go to the source and form my own opinions and suggest others do the same.
In truth there has been no shortage of material lately but it has all been far too personal a private to be dragged upon this page. Revealing myself is one thing, but I do draw the line at being gossipy and overly revealing of others and their life foibles or misfortunes. So there has been an abundance of dancing neurons in the gray matter but my fingers have been on holiday, as I question the necessity or merit of writing any of this down for the titillation of others.
As for today’s title, it is a favorite of mine and I use it frequently in relation to those who discover Thailand later in life. Without youth, looks, charm or potential, and as late entries to the game, they are often required to come up with a buy-in fee to step upon the playing field. Even then most are relegated to playing in the minor leagues and never no the joy of playing in the Big Leagues (The Show) of the majors. I believe it is this phenomenon, of having passed ones sell-by date, that leads to many a farang’s notion that we are seen only as an ATM for Thai women. Realistically what else do men in the winter or autumn of their lives have to offer, to those they pursue? But...that is a discussion for another day.
Today’s question is how much longer can I keep this up and is there any merit in doing so? I’m afraid I have no answer.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
The Angel of Death ...
A mythical beast, seldom witnessed and never discussed. The object of denial and dismissal it seemed in my experience. At least until I started down this path to a simpler more primal existence. The throbbing pulse of life now dances to the seasons, the weather, the sun and the moon. On this path I have made the acquaintance, indeed become quite familiar with this Grim Reaper. Once a stranger, now a frequent guest, dropping in unwelcome and unannounced. Such would be the case on this occasion. The veil of sleep and promise of sweet dreams, banished by the faint persistent ring of the phone. First a desperate report of an accident. Too soon followed by the sobbing report of a death. Sleep would not be our companion on this fated night.
My wife’s younger brother may now rest in peace but for family and friends the process of saying goodbye has just begun. Countless calls were made in search of answers and to inform the family. First light and the first flight out to Bangkok and the process has begun. It seems quite unfair that such a heavy burden should fall on such a small and delicate frame. My wife is, however, the backbone of her family and takes it upon herself to care for one and all. My job by contrast is to care for her. I do not it seems, feel things as she does, with such depth and sincerity. The only thing that truly moves me, is her. She is my connection to the emotional world. Through her I know the joy of life and share in the depth of her despair.
As she deals with all legal formalities and has his body returned home, her sister and mother with the help of the village, begin preparations to receive the brother and son who has left this world far too early. It was an all too familiar passing, however, with those all too familiar player. Darkness, speed, alcohol, motorcycle and a lack of precaution or protection. What’s done is done, I suppose. No lessons learned. No greater purpose. Just another senseless death bringing pain and suffering to those left behind. RIP...
Monday, August 3, 2009
A Late Start ...
Often I leave it a little late in the day to hit the rode. With insufficient time to extend my domain, I linger closer to home. Fortunately there are several alternatives for a late day ride, on either the mountain-bike or motorbike. A favorite is the nearby mountaintop, replete with hill-tribes, expansive vistas, steep winding roads, cooler temperatures and the unexpected aroma of pine. The strain of the truck or motorbike engine is nothing compared to the strain on heart and legs. My only attempt to peddle up, was short-lived as I soon realized it was far beyond my abilities. I would not have even considered an assault if not for a chance encounter with a mere child, gallantly nearing the top on his own power.
No direct comparison can be made to Mae Salong but there is some of the familiar patchwork hillside farming, steep roads and vistas provided by high, ridge-line viewing points.
No direct comparison can be made to Mae Salong but there is some of the familiar patchwork hillside farming, steep roads and vistas provided by high, ridge-line viewing points.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
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