a i m l e s s

In the golden light of the early morning I awake to the sound of lapping waves.  Not a minute later I quickly stop the beeping of my alarm clock and peer through the screen door of my tent.  Koh Phangan is silhouetted in the light, and for a second I think it may actually be on fire.  No, no, no.  It’s just the sunrise.  I wrap my sarong around my shoulders and stumble out over the tent strings.  I trip over them every day, without fail.  I pause, breathe, and soft-footedly make my way to the sand.  Some of the trees drop spiky seeds the size of peas on the ground, so my feet have become quite tough.  But in the early morning all senses are heightened.

There are no people around.  The sky is just turning from black to blue, stars alight, and sky brightening with each passing second.  I lay my sarong on the flat cool sand near the water and I sit.  I gaze.  I listen.  Usually my mind goes back to my last dream and I struggle to consciously remain present.  Sometimes a fishing boat will pass; it’s loud motor buzzing in my bones.  I urge sounds of moving water and calls of birds called ‘Nok Yeang’ to fill me up.  I try to imagine just where they are, and imagine their chirping conversations.  Then I remember, oh yea, I’m supposed to be meditating.

After thirty or so minutes I start to move.  I just go where my body tells me to go, melting sore muscles and stretching sleepy stiff body parts.  The sand collapses under my body as I struggle to remain upright.  Standing poses are the hardest.  Shavasana, dead man’s pose, is my favorite.  I end my yoga session with a long shavasana, since at this time the sun has usually risen above the lingering night clouds and is shining brightly.  Then the sweat starts.  A hop, skip, and a jump and I’m floating in the gulf of Thailand.  I like to float on my back and hum or sing with my eyes closed and my body relaxed.  In the salty sea I float easily and breathe deeply.  Time check; it’s almost time for the flag salute.  I hurry over to the outdoor fresh water showers, rinse off, wash my hair, and stand in the sun to dry off.  This takes (literally) four minutes.  Energized, I wrap my sarong around me and head up the hill just in time for the dinging of the bell.  “Sawatdee-don-chow ajarn!” (Good morning teacher!) is usually called across the field from some of my friends here.  I respond with a quick “Sawatdee-kaaaa!” (Hello!) and quickly join everyone.

At precisely 8 am the Mu Koh Angthong National Marine Park staff and I, Mah-lee, the volunteer English Teacher, line up in front of the Thai flag.  We do this extremely cool ceremony where someone yells something in Thai and we must stand at attention, arms at sides, standing straight and tall.  Then we sing the Thai National Anthem.  I’ve been learning it for the last two weeks, but still keep my cheat sheet in hand.  Next we chant a Buddhist prayer and someone else calls something out in Thai and we stand legs apart, hands clasped behind backs.  Now it’s time for the big boss to assign everyone their work for the day.  He does this in Thai; sometimes I understand a bit.  Then it’s time for Pi Wak to give us a mini English lesson.  Often times he calls me to the front to pronounce words, correct him, or repeat things.  We return in line for a final “Hua!” and now one of my favorite times of the day… breakfast! 

We have a restaurant on the island with a big kitchen.  Nong Long, Pi Je, Nong K, Pi Ning and Pi Ja O are the magic makers – the food here is amazing.  Breakfast is usually rice with spicy curry, or eggs, or sometimes fish.  We serve ourselves, caffeinate ourselves, and everyone goes off to work.  I usually spend about two and a half hours eating breakfast.  No joke!  I chat, hang out, make fun of, and get cheeky with everybody.  We usually exchange bad words in English and in Thai, or I correct some grammar mistakes with a slap on the shoulder and a “Mai Chai!” which means “No!” which is actually okay to say to your students here!

Pi Wak and I head off to the Information booth just off the beach to await the first boat of tourists.  My day job is simple.  I greet tourists, collect and keep their belongings safe, chat with tour guides, direct dancing children to the bathroom, and sometimes we sing karaoke with Pi Wak’s laptop computer.  Frankie Sinatra’s “My Way” is our favorite duet.  He taught me a Chinese song that we serenade tourists with every day.  It’s great having different people every day.  You only need to know one or two jokes.  Pi Wak’s jokes don’t translate.  Mine don’t either, I’m probably the only one in the universe who thinks they are funny.  The only people who laugh are those who don’t understand English, which is okay by me.

I see the first boat in the distance.  The horizon is gray and it’s easy to mistake the sky for the sea.  A black speck becomes a worn-out ferry toting thirty-some odd tourists from all over the world.  They take a longtail boat driven by my friend Pi Kai to the shore and don lifejackets for a kayaking tour.  Some grab snorkels and masks and float in the buoyed off swimming area in search of beautifully colored fish (I shouldn’t say, but actually, there aren’t many on this island.  Only sea cucumbers and sea urchins speckle the rocky coral.  And the water isn’t really that clear, it’s actually the worst snorkeling I’ve seen in Thailand.  But just around the corner is beautiful coral with lots of fishies.  It’s pretty cool to know the secret spots.) 

Three hours, two big boats, and a few speed boats later, we’re famished.  Time for my second favorite part of the day… lunch!  Pi Wak always makes me a plate while I cover the booth.  Lunch varies a lot.  Spicy lemongrass shrimp soup, rice and curry, friend rice, noodle soup, fried fish, eggs, fried chicken, pork laap… (What do you mean, a yogi eating meat?  What can I say, the food is free for me… and so delicious!)  I eat lunch while delivering the final tourists their bags and ogling the other staff who usually partake in a very vicious game of beach volleyball.  I choose to float on my back in the sea once the tourists are gone.  I swim out pretty far and watch the birds fly around the rocky cliffs. 

In the piercing heat of the day, I have no idea how the staff here at Koh Wua Talap wears long sleeved turtlenecks while paddling kayaks, playing volleyball, and driving longtail boats.  It’s just beyond me.  I choose to wear as little as possible as often as possible.  Everybody is used to tourists in string thong bikinis (Europeans) so me in a tank top doesn’t really bother anybody.  And believe it or not, I have a real tan!  I use coconut oil instead of sunscreen and haven’t burned once. 

Afternoons are slow and long.  The ‘coffee shop’ is a bamboo hut on the beach, just next to the guy with a bundle of young coconuts and a butcher knife.  Sweet fresh coconuts and delicious real cappuccinos… is this paradise yet?  The benefits of volunteering here are that I can eat for free.  Only some people will understand how extremely happy this makes me.  After my coffee break, sometimes I kayak around the island or hike to the cave or viewpoint, but usually I just hang around.  I’ve made the best friends here.  Pi Nan, Pi Go Lung and I hang out every day.  They’re like older brothers.  They tease me, teach me, help me, and take care of me.  I’m so grateful for their company.  We talk music, slang, and love most of the time.  Other times they question me about America, about my life, about what’s next. 

It seems that everybody likes that I’m staying awhile.  There are three or four staff who just love studying English.  They come to me at odd times throughout the day, in between weed-whacking the huge lawn and chopping coconuts out of trees.  They bring their notes and speak to me in the most polite and respectable way.  I love teaching these guys one-on-one, I’ve established real relationships in doing so.  These guys disclose so much to me about themselves and their lives.  Probably because this place is just a big family, and everybody loves everybody.  There is zero drama.  It’s awesome. 

The sun sets over the mountains and vwooom the electricity turns on around 6 pm.  The cooks get a cookin’ and people wander around the land.  The workday has been over for a few hours and everybody reconvenes after showering, napping, and doing whatever it is that they want to do.  You can hear the ‘bzzzzz… smack, smack, smack’ of the ridiculous amount of mosquitoes.  I’ve gotten to the point where I just let them devour me.  Then I smother myself with red tiger balm.  I have a newfound love for tiger balm; it’s camphory clove-filled goodness makes my skin warm and makes me forget the itch.  I hang about, eat some dinner, which is just like lunch but bigger.  Then, at 7:30, my class starts. 

My students file into the visitor center and sit in plastic chairs beside a whiteboard stapled to an old trail sign.  Class varies between 0-8 students on any given night, depending on if we have any customers or not.  During class time the students learn vocabulary relevant to Marine Park Rangers like “strong current” and “sea urchin.”  Their pronunciation was atrocious when I first arrived.  “What’s your name?” sounded like “Wassss yul naaaeee?”  Even just after studying a few weeks, I can hear a huge difference in everyone’s English, as well as their confidence.  Shy guys will approach foreigners on the beach to tell them to “Watch out for falling coconuts!” They do so without fear!  I’m so proud!

After class I usually find Nan and Go Lung on the platform surrounding the big tree, rocking their passion-filled hearts out.  A few strummed chords always turns into a massive sing-along; you know it’s getting good when Pi Jay, the head cook, starts singing into an imaginary microphone, headbanging, and pounding his chest maniacally.  Sometimes Pi Gone takes out a maraca or two, a harmonica, and some bongos… add a bottle of 100 Pipers whiskey to the scene and it’s a party under the tree!  And what’s a party without The Cranberries “Zombie?”  I sing it, loud and proud to a crowd, without fear.  After hitting all those high notes, I’m spent.  I sit back and pick out words from the Thai songs that I can translate into English in my head.  It seems every Thai song is about love… “Chan rahk ter… I love you!  I know that one!!”

My eyes start feeling heavy and I yawn a couple of times.  I know I should sleep, but the magic of the moment usually captures me.  As people start trickling away to their beds I call it quits.  I retire, call ‘goodnight,’ and stroll my way back to my lovely little tent under the tamarind tree.  The power cuts at 10 pm, and sleep comes naturally with the salty breeze blowing through my screen windows.  Darkness all around, I snuggle into my pretty pink sheet, and kiss the pillow with my grin. 

Crystalline waters, silken white sands, hardly anybody around, coconuts, yoga, meditation, monkeys, and me.  This is where I’m holing up the next month to study and practice being happy and joyous.  I can’t imagine it will be that much of a struggle.  🙂 

Coming soon: (6/28) Bye Thai, Hello India!

Yai is a thai word.  If you use the correct intonation it means “grandma” in the same way that I say “Oma.”  It’s familiar and lovely, and I’m fortunate to have a lady in my life that I can call Yai. 

Yai is approximately 75 years old.  Her face explodes into laughter, her guttoral low toned voice speaks slowly and jokingly almost all of the time.  Her wig, always cocked on her head, shakes when she laughs.  She has hip pain, and walks slow and with care.  She always holds my hand when we’re out and about.  When we sit close her hand rests on my knee, gently tapping for emphasis.

Yesterday I walked the streets of Surat Thani, my old home, for the first time since my yoga course.  The smells were the same, motorbike exhaust mixed with powdery dirt and menthol talc powder.  As I hummed a tune down Donnok Road I heard Yai’s distinct voice across the street… “Lee-sah?”

Delighted to see a familiar face in a place that had become so unfamiliar, I lifted my sunglasses and tore across the street, dodging a cyclo and a few motorbikes until I sat beside her.  She hugged me like a grandmother should, tightly with some firm back smacks, unsure if I was choking on something or not.  She seemed truly overjoyed to see me; her daughters and grandkids are all spread and busy and she has a lot of free time on her hands.  We chatted in Thai for a bit.  I stumbled through sentences, realizing for the first time how much three months speaking mostly English has affected my previously quite fluent Thai.  “Loo-um mak mak!” I told her, “I forgot a lot!”  She laughed and jovially slapped my upper arm for effect. 

Then she asks me about love.  “Mee fren mai?” she asked my love status directly and with no hesitation.  “Mai mee na kaa…” I slowly answered my single-ness, figuring she was just asking out of curiousity.  At this point in the story, Yai’s eyes are sparkling even more than usual.  She claps her hands together and starts speaking furiously, quickly, a morse code of sounds and facial expressions that I attempt to follow for a few seconds… I understood a few words… son… single… Phuket… thai person.  I ask her to repeat this jumble, and she does, the same way I sometimes see foreigners talk to thai people… deafeningly and slowly.  She hollars that her friend the seamster (is that the masculine form of seamstress?) has a son.  He’s thirty.  He lives in Phuket.  Something about a boat.  He is ‘laaaw mak mak’ and I am intrigued… she thinks I’d match with her friend’s superhandsome son?  Now the seamster is digging through his bag.  “Foh-toh… foh-toh!” Yai calls to me that he has a photo of said handsome man.  The passport sized photo is worn and scratched.  It’s a graduation photo of a young thai boy, about eighteen years old, with a tiny head and huge ears.  I mean HUGE.  He has a quirky smile that suggests he’s a funny guy.  I laughed.  “Laaw mai?” Yai presses to ask me if I think he’s handsome.  “Laaw kaa…” I say yea, but under those circumstances with his father looking on eagerly… what’s a girl to say??

Somehow I got talked into meeting HM the following day, at noon.  I wasn’t sure if I was translating correctly, so the following day I casually showed up late.  Yai was there, in her hero pose, on the floor of the seamsters, sipping something brown and smelling of camphor.  She made motions to me that I needed to put on make-up.  I exclaimed that I don’t like make-up, then I started to actually get more nervous than amused.  I’m going on a blind date!  I want to look good!  I smoothed my skirt down, tucked some wisps of hair behind my ears, straightened my necklace. 

Up walks HM.  He is tall, obviously supremely shy, with a deep voice that I imagined would crack if he said more than two words.  He grew into his ears, but they still protruded from his head in a way that made my hello-smile much more genuine.  I tried to introduce myself, but his befuddled expression and nervous body language led me to understand he doesn’t speak english.  Great.  These sort of things are weird and awkward enough in general, without the language barrier.  For the next three minutes we all sort of sat around in silence.  Seamster, his son, Yai, and I.  Twiddling thumbs, gazing at passing motorbikes, trying to figure out something to say. 

My mind was hysterically laughing.  Why do I put myself in these sort of situations?  I thought a second.  “Just to see what happens,” was the answer I came up with.  Just to have a funny story.  And who knows, maybe this handsome man will have a good heart and learn English and we’ll ride off happily ever after.  I’m not really looking for a fairy tale, to be honest, I’m not really looking for anything, I’m just open to the universal possibilities of every moment.

Back in the seamster’s shop, HM excuses himself and walks off.  PHEW.  Crisis averted.  I ask Yai what was going on.  She croaks out that we’re going together.  Huh?!  Going where, Yai?  Going to eat lunch!  Handsome man is going to get the car!  AHH!  So here I am, pressed in the middle of the back seat of some little car between Yai and some handsome man’s momma.  HM is driving, and seated shotgun is a seventeen year old boy who is acting as a terrible translator.  I mean, really.  It took him about 5 minutes to translate… How…. old…. is…. a… you?  I had already asked and answered this question in Thai previously, so I repeated myself. 

HM was constantly checking me out in the rearview mirror, the only real contact we’ve had thus far.  I felt exploited, in the back of this car, yet it gets worse.  Yai starts asking me questions, in Thai, loudly.  “Do you think he’s handsome?”  “Do you love him?”  “Do you want to go to Phuket with him?”  Ohhhh Yai.  Please shhh, I whisper.  She only repeats them, even louder, more hoarsely.  “Do you think he’s very very handsome?  Do you like him???”  Goodness gracious.  Red-faced, unable to break this HM’s fragile ego, I have no idea how to respond.  I hesitate and consider not speaking… but that would come across as rude.  So I finally respond.  “He’s handsome, but he doesn’t talk to me.  I don’t know if I like him.”  It was the truth.  He wasn’t totally gruesome, I could see myself finding some cuteness in his smile.  Yai didn’t like this answer, she pushed a few more over the top questions onto me, to which I brilliantly responded… “Sorry… I don’t understand!”  Why didn’t I think of that line hours ago???

We arrive at the restaurant and HM hasn’t even attempted to look or talk to me once.  Okay.  So I relax and realize this is just another crazy day in Thailand, nothing to get nervous or worked up about.  We eat some delicious seafood salad (you can’t imagine how yums it is unless you’ve tried it), spicy lemongrass shrimp soup, curry crabs, and rice.  I sat near the end of the table so I did my best to replicate what a good Thai girl should do… pass the plates and spoon and fork… scoop rice for each person… fill empty glasses as they empty… etc.  I was proud of myself in that aspect.  If nothing else I can say I’ve learned Thai social grace.

Most of our meal was spent with everyone staring at me, seeing how I eat.  At first I tried to eat daintily like these skinny little sweet thai things, but who eats crabs daintily??  I got to it, and the staring lessened as everyone realized the deliciousness of the gourmet meal in front of us.  After the meal, I helped Yai to the bathroom.  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  It startled me.  I haven’t really seen myself in a mirror in awhile, and it was interesting to feel what I felt.  Comfort, like “Oh, there I am!” 

Returning to our troupe, we walked off.  I tried to offer some money, which was turned down by everyone except Yai.  “Money!  Give me money!” she shrieked, caught up in some laughter.  I didn’t get the joke, and started giving her some baht, but she just shook her head and patted my hand.  “Mai ow, Lissa.”  I don’t want it, Lissa. 

The car ride home wasn’t nearly as excruciating.  We had full bellies, and HM’s mom engaged me in some small talk conversation.  She started talking about Thai people who have ‘black hearts’ and get romantically involved with foreigners for their endless plethora of money.  I laughed.  Maybe they think I’m rich, is that why HM wanted to go to lunch?  I felt his eyeballs in the mirror at me again, but I refused to meet them.  I’m not interested in a one-way romance with someone too afraid to speak to me.  Besides, I reminded myself and those in the car with me, I’m going back to the island tomorrow!

After this three hour shenanigan, I was beat.  Physically drained.  I waved my goodbye to Yai, HM, his mom, his dad, the young boy.  I told them I was going to take a little nap, I was tired.  They understood, and nobody tried to stop me.  Not even HM.

What’s to be learned here?  I learned what I don’t want in a romantic relationship.  I don’t want silence.  I don’t just want a handsome face (with protruding ears.)  It’s reassuring to know that people feel the pressure to settle in and settle down cross culturally.  It was a weirdly amusing experience, and if nothing else, it inspired me to write.  Hope you laughed.  I know I did.

Oh all the money that ere I spent, I spent it in good company.  And all the harm that ere I’ve done, alas it was to none but me.  And all I’ve done, for want of wit, to memory now I can’t recall.  So fill to me a parting glass, “Goodnight and joy be with you all.”  Oh all the comrades that ere I’ve had, are sorry for my going away.  And all the lovers that ere I’ve had, would wish me one more day to stay.  But since it falls into my lot that I should rise and you should not… I’ll gently rise and I’ll softly call… “Goodnight and joy be with you all.”

What is reality but your own sensory perception of that which ‘is?’  My senses are heightened, naturally I might add.  I mean, colors are so bright and beautiful, smells strong and remniscent of emotion, clarity of sound, textures, touch, tastes, are all available at each moment.  I’m glimpsing what it is like to be here now.  Three months for me ended up being the best thing I could ever do for myself; the lessons are endless.  I’m informed, I’m educated, I’m a certified yoga instructor!  Gratitude to all my teachers, from all walks of life, put into my life to guide me along this jungle path.

The Golden Nuggets (and how they were learned):

• The universe always delivers.  (Getting what I am intended to receive, always.) 
• Beauty lies the struggle.  (Yorron taught me this.)
• The magic of the moment is within me.  (The illusion of love spells.)
• Sense gratification is merely perpetuating the enslavement to desire.  (Benzy, chocolate museli bars and smokes.)
• Above all, allow to be.  (Homie G.)
• Love is bliss, so enjoy every second of it, wherever you find it.  (Selina <3)
• Never give up.  (My good old sensei)
• Are you breathing?  (David)
• Awareness, action, then mastery.  (Karl, thank you!)
• Every moment is a chance to recreate yourself.  (Des)
• Thoughts embraced by emotion and intention creates manifestation.  (Marnie, Michelle, everyone really)
• In the face of fear, breathe into your heart.  (Kyndra the mermaid)
• Be soft, gentle, draw back your claws.  (My white tiger)
• All good things in moderation, moderation in moderation.  (Life and Ari)
• Offer love and compassion in the face of suffering.  (Everyone)
• Aham sat chit ananda; I am truth beauty and bliss.  (Marina)
• It’s perfect.  Every moment is perfect.  (Michelle)

 We are all unique beautiful creatures with some unfortunate habits, but we have power in the struggle to acknowledge the beauty and mportance of emotion, social interaction, and community.

 It’s all coming together, spiderwebs of spirograph connections.  To really integrate, I’m going to hole up in a tent on a beach for awhile.  For the selfish/selfless quest to give appropriate time and space for expansion.  Next stop, India and Nepal! 

What a crazy month!  I’ve been surrounded by love and east coast pride for the last few weeks.  I can’t describe what it has been like to ‘tawk’ and ‘wawk’ and drink ‘wudder’ and ‘cawfee’ with these amazing folks.  Aimee arrived from Korea for her one week winter break.  We spent most of our time laughing, singing, and interupting the hell out of each other.  Lovely girl that Aimee, thanks Sara Casey!

 Genevieve arrived on new years eve morning.  She ran off the runway of the airport and nearly knocked me over with the biggest grandest hug I’ve ever received.  Oh, we’ve had a great time, despite her many ‘accidents’ (we keep joking we’re going to get her a bubble.)  In the last week and a half she’s sprained her ankle walking, busted her knee, got a terrible sunburn, and got some sort of inner bone pain (that we’re still not sure what it is).  Mike and I have been taking care of her, and she’s been loving the beach, massages, and curry.  She said to me just today, ‘You know, I can’ finally see why you haven’t come home!’  She loves it here.

 And now, it’s time to depart.  I’m off on another adventure, a Cambodian cycling solo mission.  I just packed up my cammo saddle bags and cleaned out my room at Pi Eet’s house.  As my time in Surat comes to a close, I can’t help but remember all the crazy folks I’ve met and the fantastic adventures that have ensued.  I love this place and the people.  I am already pretty sad to leave, but the excitement getting back on the road with velo is cancelling it out.  I’m going to stay around Preah Vihear in northern Cambodia, where there are lost hidden Angkor Wat temples that are just dying for me to discover them.  I know it.  After I renew my visa in Phenom Penh, it’s PYRAMID TIME! 

 Yoga yoga yoga!  Oh how I love yoga!  And bicycles!  And singing!  And LIFE!  I REALLY LOVE LIFE!  And you!  I love you too!!!

Obviously speaking… life is change.  This past month EVERYTHING is changing.  I’m entering a no-man’s-land that some may refer to as ‘late twenties,’ which includes re-evaluating all the decisions and experiences in the past 25 years as well as preparing “a plan” for the next 25.  I am generally a planless sort of girl, but lately I’ve been more motivated (thankfully!)  Another big change is that I have a full-time companion from the states.  My friend Mykal (don’t you know him?) arrived on Halloween and will be staying in Surat for the next month or months (he’s not sure, he likes it) to generally look around, learn, travel, and help out where he can (as well as enjoy the pleasure of my company.  Ha ha ha.) 

Bye bye lonelillies.  Not that I was excruciatingly lonely before he arrived, but I was feeling the bits of thorns and bramble that you often experience when you stumble off your path.    So, I found my paved road again, and it was there all along, as it always is.

 Of course questioning decisions comes along with analyzing the past.  I sometimes envision my life if my decisions were different.  Only, without remorse, because IT IS WHAT IT IS.  I’ve learned a ton, and I feel happy in the moment.  If I don’t, I meditate on it.

Today, the future is the biggest challenge in my mind.  I don’t know what’s in store for me.  I want a lot of different things.  My family and friends want a lot of different things for me, too.  I have time to figure out ‘it all’, and am reminding myself this whenever I feel overwhelmed.

For Halloween (and our birthday) Mykal and I went to Khanom with a crew of other farang.  We traveled in two VW buses, mixing endless buckets and listening to endless reggae covers.  After a swim and a nap, a few girls and I transformed into Thai schoolgirl zombies.  We bought the costumes at the real school uniform shop, and I must admit, we looked pretty disgusting!  (Though, nothing compared to last year… Oh KOREA!)

We won a costume contest, 3rd place, the prize being a bottle of Sangsom rum which was immediately taken care of.  After a bit of dancing and socializing, we headed back to the beach where we had previously set up camp.  The stars were brilliant and popping out of the blackness like braille.  The sea was calm and warm.  We swam to John Mayer softly flowing from the vans as well as the snap and crackle of a big coconut wood bonfire.  The phospherescence (sp?) was magical in the water.  Every time you moved, like a wizard with a wand, your movements trailed blue silver sparkling bits. 

I felt suspended between the vastness of the universe and the unknown mysteries of the space around me.  Time, age, future, planning, past… it all disappeared.  I was entranced.

And now.  I’m warming up to the idea of having a constant Jersey-speaking companion.  My ideas are being challenged and I’m certainly feeling inspiration as my Pyramid yoga course start date draws nearer (February 4!).

Thank you for all your love and support.  I had so many emails  and love notes on my birthday.  I feel totally blessed to have such beautiful caring people in my life.  Thank you!  Even though I’m not there, I think of you all the time.  Always in my heart, and with me through ‘it all!’  LOVE golden LOVE!

 xoxoxo 

Or am I?  I know some truths about myself and life, which feels like I’m slowwwwly moving upstairs from, “I don’t know anything at all.”  Having a family and friends is making me whole.  Not having acid eating me away from the inside is letting me heal.  Life is beautiful and I’ve been enjoying it.  I mean, it’s still a struggle.  But the glimmering moments outlast the headaches.  The delight outweighs the disappointment.  I’m full.  Full of wonder.  Wonderful.  Lately.

I’ve been spending lots of time with A, Benz, and Greg.  In these photos you will see us at a big festival in Surat, hanging at our friend Peh’s riverhome, my day in burma/myanmar for a visa run, and a three day cycling vacation with my friend Will.  I don’t feel incredibly inspired at the moment to tell you all about it. 

If you’re curious, call and ask me!   😉

Khanom is the Thailand you imagine.  White sand beaches, some resorts, some huge hotels, but mostly just open empty land laden with rocks to climb, shells to collect, shade to sleep in, and clear clean water to swim in.  Most tourists are from two different classes: class one: the resort couple wining and dining and spending their hard earned cash on a two week vacation… and class two: the english teacher working in Nakkon or Surat who camps out on the beach and spends as little as possible.
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Most port cities I’ve experienced have been litter-filled, dead-fish-smelling homes to oily sailors with no manners.  (Prime examples: Busan, South Korea; Algeciras, Spain; Brindisi, Italy)  When my boss first introduced me to the idea of moving to Surat Thani I was less than excited.  If you didn’t know, Surat is a port city for Koh Phangan, Koh Samui, and Koh Tao… three of Thailand’s most popular vacation destinations.  In my mind that meant gorgeous turquoise waters with empty whisky bottles and plastic bags strewn about.  Not a beautiful sight in my mind’s eye.

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