Day 23 / January 15, 2011

I can feel the inklings of my adventure coming to and end. It’s like watching the last fifteen minutes of a good movie. All the bad guys are gone, the mortgage to the ranch has been paid, everyone who was meant to cry has cried and the only thing left to do is ride off into the sunset. That to will come Thursday, this is so like me to get ahead of myself and start thinking of leaving Chiang Mai four days early. I can tell it’s time to move on. I no longer have the desire to go sight seeing. I’ve visited more Buddhist temples than most westerners see in a lifetime. I’ve walked and hobbled through every market during the day and night and purchased more useless things than I hope to admit. I made friends with waitresses, reception staff, bartenders and monks. I rode in every type of transportation available in Thailand and I’ve run out of good music. I’ve lost one hearing aid, the rubber nose protector on my sunglasses and turned my mini portable speaker system into toast by dropping the main speaker onto the hard concrete ground next to the swimming pool. That’s a sure sign its time to move on.

            It’s time close up some loose ends. I never made it to the nice women’s house that invited me for dinner last Friday. Upon reflection, I thought it was a polite invitation but lacking honest desire. YO, the young postgraduate and I had dinner a couple of times but our ages truly came between us. My fault not hers. I lose all desire to be in the company of a young woman, or anyone else for that matter once the sun passes the yardarm. No matter where we were, or the setting, or topic of conversation, I wanted to be in my hotel room punching away at the computer board keys, reading a little of Paul Theroux and going to bed. I believe there are two categories that all great writers can be placed, those that keep the action flowing and the reader is forever kept on the tips of his or hers toes, and those that put you to sleep after two pages. There is a place in my heart for both.

I will see YO tonight. See left a notebook under my motor scooter seat and asked if I was interested in going on a night safari with her. She really is a sweetheart. She knows I can’t walk very far. The night safari is a train driven ride through the Chiang Mai zoo at 7:30. I’ll try to stay awake.

My writing routine of waking up at 5:00 am takes its toll on my energy level about fourteen hours later. This is not a complaint, but a realization that after sixty, sun rises are more interesting to me than sun sets. I am happy with that. I am more encouraged by the human souls that walk the streets at dawn then those seeking the electronic booming sounds and Karaoke machines howling at the moon. I have enjoyed discovering my alter ego that pops up in my erotic adventures from time to time.

I do have a few reflections of Thailand to share. Thailand has very little debris on the streets or sides of there roads. There is no major effort or advertising campaign to thank for this. The people are simply proud of who they are and where they live. The natural environment is important to them and they don’t feel they need to conquer it. There are no beggars or street people. No one I asked could explain this or tell me why this was. Since they had no reference as to what a street person is, it was difficult to communicate that a wealthy country like the United States has this problem. The closest thing to a street person in Thailand is a monk, and they are considered sacred. They do not ask for money only food and that is done only once during the early morning hours and they are polite and neatly dressed in orange robes. The people that give alms feel good about doing so, and the gesture enriches their lives. The medical system here may not have every million dollar spiffy diagnostic machine known to man but it does offer personal, courteous, and caring physicians. I would rather be hit by a Mack truck then die in an American hospital, but I would feel truly privileged to see any of the Thai physicians I have met at my bedside before death. President Obama would do our country a great service to visit and spend some time in Thailand and try to figure out why the smiles of the Thai population are so contagious.

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            Most people laugh at there own jokes because the jokes themselves aren’t very funny. I admit I’m guilty. I spent the last two days howling at the stupidity of the screenplay I wrote thinking it was the funniest thing since Woody Allen wrote Annie Hall. Since no one commented I assume I am alone in this regard. Today I will lie at poolside, read, and work on my tan. I miss my bed but I don’t miss Las Vegas.  I have found a love in riding motor scooters that brings me back to the time of feeling like an eagle on a mountain bike. Vegas is not the place for a motor scooter. The Hummers, pick-up trucks, and super-sized SUV’s would spit me out like dust. I miss making my own bed in the morning and reading the morning paper with a cold bowl of cereal and a banana. My acupuncturist strongly disagrees with the monk that suggested a change in my diet. She said mushrooms and bananas are good for me, the monk doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Let the monk stick to universal oneness and Karma dealing and leave the dietary advice to the doctors, a partial quote from Dr. Rungant. Like anywhere else in the world it’s hard to get two professionals to agree on anything. I miss calling my friends and it not being special. I miss Sunday morning country and western music on DirecTV, and pizza and football in the afternoon. I miss my cat Moony, but there’s not much I can do about that.