Conflicts

It's amazing that there continues to be conflict all over the world.  It was like that when I was a little kid.  It's like that now.  Why should we believe that it's ever going to be any different?  Why is there conflict at all?  One answer is that we have free will.  Another is that, for all our similarities, we want to feel unique, so we play up our differences: nationalities, political parties, religions, skin color, et cetera.  By following our own human nature and playing up our differences, rivalries and tensions develop.  An 'us-versus-them' mentality develops.  So that's another answer to why there is perpetual conflict throughout the world.  Another answer is man's tendency toward sin and temptation: especially in the form of power (pride); this stems from man's natural insecurity, both materially as an animal that strives to survive at all costs, and emotionally as beings that compensate for internal insecurity by manifesting external power.

Another issue is that no relationship, nor anything at all for that matter, is static.  The universe is dynamic.  Your body and every person's body is dynamic.  People change and thus that makes the relationship between and among people dynamic.  I can think of easy examples in my own life right off the top of my head.  In fact, it's a theme that's been on my mind a lot lately.  I perceive that my relationship with my cousin Carlos isn't what it used to be or what it could be.  When I write a short note or message to him, his responses are either stock and pithy (the latest one was simply "gracias primo") or he simply uses an emoticon (usually a 'thumbs-up' icon) to acknowledge my note without having to engage in any substantive dialogue.  Assuming my perception is really accurate, I have no idea what's going on.  Is he jealous because I got married? and/or because I've become a father?  Did I slight him in some way the last time I was in Costa Rica?  I have no clue.  I suppose I can ask him what's going on.  That would be the mature, logical thing to do.  I think I may be afraid of the answer.  But then again, the cold hard truth should always be preferable to living under a hazy assumption, shouldn't it?

Next I think of my relationship with my friend Paul.  I still consider him to be my friend, though we're not as close as we used to be.  If you look back at previous posts here, around the 2008 time frame, Paul is a major player.  We spent a lot of time together.  We traveled together, to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, to his parents' home in Tampa, Florida, and even to Costa Rica back in the day.  I had a close relationship in those days, the late 1990s through the entire decade of the 2000s.  I kept my mouth shut on certain things that concerned me, because I enjoyed my time with him.  We had fun together.  In a very real way, at a time when we were young adults, flexing our wings (if that's even a proper saying) and coming into our own, we were each other's family -- at a time when we needed to prove our individuality separate and apart from our own respective families.  But as time passed, and perhaps when I became more comfortable in my adulthood, or perhaps wasn't having as much fun spending time and traveling with him, or perhaps when I had met other friends and thus didn't feel like I needed or depended upon my friendship with him -- whatever the case was -- I felt that I needed to communicate with him my concerns about his beliefs as expressed in words: using the word "nigger" to pejoratively describe a dark-skinned American of African descent, then a couple years later using the word "dyke" to describe a female mayor of some northern New Jersey city, either Hoboken or Jersey City.  After each separate incident, I wrote a letter by hand and sent it to him, expressing my disapproval.  Was this the right approach?  I thought so.  I still think so.  But maybe not.  Should I have talked with him face-to-face?  My main takeaway, as I write this now, is that I shouldn't invest too much time in a friend with such negative, prejudiced, and outdated beliefs.  In short: surround yourself with good people.  But then I ask myself, who am I to judge him?  Be soft on the sinner, but not on the sin!  Did I practically give up a friendship for the foolish objective of proving a principle?

This tug of war between philosophical poles happens quite frequently in my head.  I think part of it is the guilt -- justified or not -- at having effectively ended a friendship.  I think the other part is a realization that life is not guaranteed to remain static, things will change, and this logically leads to a realization, whether explicit or implicit, that life will eventually end: after all these changes and changes, death shall come.

I've written previously that a break-up from a girlfriend is very analogous to these existential realizations.  The relationship died.  It's as if the ex-girlfriend is dead, although we know damn well that she's alive somewhere, probably with some other guy already.  A break-up is a foreboding of death.  It's a terrible feeling...to be reminded of one's own mortality.  And yet we're reminded of it all the time, whether looking outwardly at all the conflict in the world, the people, the children!, being killed in war, or whether looking inwardly to our own failed relationships.  What's the answer?  I can't say I know, other than to keep on living, find something to believe in, put one's gifts and talents to the best use possible to be productive and self-fulfilling, and be with (or be open to be with) someone you love and who loves you.

May Day

Let's see, where do I begin to catch up on the past week that I haven't written?

First of all, Seva is now two days short of three weeks old.  She's healthy, thank God.  And she's growing, which is perceptible even though I see her every day.  And for that I'm thankful too.  I treasure those moments when she's awake, alert, calm, and her eyes are open and she's looking around.  It's as if she's beginning to take in her surroundings, even if her depth perception is not yet developed.  I'm almost certain that she recognizes me, or at least I hope she does.  Jeannie and I have really been blessed and I look forward to seeing Seva continue to grow and develop into a little girl.

Speaking of changes, this week is the first week that [...] is at its new location at the Cast Iron Building, 718 Arch Street.  Although I had some doubts and misgivings about moving from our previous location at 15th & Chestnut, I've been pleasantly impressed with the new building.  The two main things that I miss are my view from the windows at 42 South 15th Street and the fact that my commute was simply a 15 to 20 minute walk.  Now I have to take the 17 bus and I have just one window, behind me, that looks out to an opposing wall and a parking garage.  As a whole, though, the office set-up provides more privacy and overall a lot more square footage for the organization.  Although I've lately been critical of [...], I'll always give credit where credit is due, and in making this move, and actually making it happen, management has done a very good job.  With that being said, I'm still looking forward to going out on paternity leave in mid-June.

After finishing The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway, I began reading Blindness by José Saramago.  I'm nearly halfway through now.  It's been a good book so far, but I'm really wondering how it's going to end, whether all the characters will be cured of their white blindness and whether the author will explain the cause of the epidemic.

Right now it's raining again.  There was already about an inch or more of standing water in our patio from a ton of rain that fell throughout the day and night yesterday.  What can we expect though, it's springtime.  As I was walking to the bus stop this morning, I noticed that little leaves are starting to emerge from the buds on the trees.  Spring is definitely here.  After fall, this may be my favorite time of year.  There's just something fresh and exciting about springtime, finally to be able to get out of the house after winter is over.

I have so much hope for the future.  I feel like I've been through a couple negative challenging periods recently, first with Ileana and most recently at work.  But I feel that these tests were setting me up for the next step, something different, something better.  In the case of post-Ileana, I'm now married to Jeannie and we have our baby Seva, and in spite of our occasional challenges and growing pains, we're happy.  In the case of post-[...], the chapter is yet to be written.  I can only hope for a similar storyline, a positive trajectory in the direction of a better me and happier, healthier future.

I was telling Jeannie earlier this evening over dinner how so many of my clients have been so happy and congratulatory for the birth of Seva.  It's really heartwarming.  I should keep it in mind that being a lawyer comes with its intangible rewards, of which this kind of thing is right up there at the top of the list.  This kind of genuine gratitude and recognition makes me think that being a lawyer isn't the problem, it's just where I'm at now.

This past Saturday, with the weather being nice, I thought on a whim that it would be great to go out to shoot some hoops.  I mentioned it to Jeannie that she should pack up Seva and come with me to the basketball court at 18th & Catharine.  We stopped by the YMCA, hoping that I could pump up my basketball a little bit, but the Y was closed, so I had to go with a mostly-filled ball, which wasn't so bad.  When I got to the court there was another kid, probably in his late teens, who got there right around the same time.  We shot around at one end of the court for a while until another couple guys came by, probably in their early to mid twenties.  About a half hour into shooting around, we got a game of 3-on-3 going at the other end of the court.  I told Jeannie before the game started that I was sure that I'd get winded.  And my prediction came true.  I had bursts of athleticism and flashes of some good offensive drives to the hoop, but overall my lung capacity and poor cardiovascular condition held me back from playing anywhere near top form.  I'll tell you, though, even though my body felt it for at least the next couple days, it was totally worth it, I had a lot of fun just playing ball, doing something for the heck of it, but still competing.  It was great.  I hope to play again this coming weekend.

Another highlight from this past weekend, Sunday I think, was looking through a lot of the poetry that I've written and saved on my computer.  Some of it made me grimace in embarrassment, but there were other poems that brought back feelings and memories that made me laugh and smile.  I know that many times there's no telling when inspiration will inspire, but I'm certain that there has to be a certain degree of intentionality necessary to write, especially when it comes to poetry.  I say that as a preface to the statement that I'd like to come around at some point and start writing poetry again.  I can't say that I'm any kind of master, but if I can make my future self laugh and smile, and maybe some others laugh and smile too, then it'll be worth it.

Reflecting on the paragraph before last, I realize that I love competing when it's fun.  And I hope to get back to that point when it comes to law.  It's fun to have fun and it's not fun to not have fun.  I'd like to have fun and be happy.

Going back to the topic of memories, I like to think of moments from the road.  The other morning (perhaps this morning?) I was thinking of being on the bus with Jeannie somewhere in upstate New York on the way to Montreal.  I remember being on the phone with Pito and Jess and looking out the window at the colorful trees on the side of the road and feeling excited about heading back to Montreal for a long weekend.  I remember sitting in the passenger seat as Jeannie drove the rental car straight from the San Diego International Airport south on I-5 to the Mexican border and down along the coast to Ensenada.  I remember the beauty of looking out and down the Pacific cliffs to the ocean below and the winding road along the sleepy Mexican coast, the hills looking really dry to our left-hand side.  I remember sitting in a bus seat in the middle of the dark night somewhere in Laos, listening to my iPod, including the song "Light of the Moon" by Scapegoat Wax, which I'll never forget.  I remember the bus stopped randomly at some point on the back road to let everyone out to piss and shit on the side of the road, without any light (except from the moon and stars) and without any cover.  It was one of those experiences that could never be truly captured on a camera, but yet it remains an indelible memory of life on the road.

Follow-up on the Baby and no NYC

The Baby is doing fine. As I write this she's sitting on my bed, grooming herself by licking her tummy. Earlier tonight, Rocky and the Baby were chasing each other around the apartment. Rocky cornered her underneath the bicycles leaning against my bedroom wall, the Baby assumed her normal defensive position by lying on her back with her four paws up in the air, trying to stiff-arm Rocky's attempts to nose-dive into her and bite her, and the two of them alternately swiped at each other's paws to create an opening for "attack." It was fun to watch them play.

I was going to go to New York City this weekend, but I think that's no longer gonna happen. First of all, there is a very strong likelihood that the project that I've been working on is going to end tomorrow. The work has simply run out. That translates into once again having to be conservative with my spending. Second, I had hoped to hear back from at least one of two girls: one, Elsa, an El Salvadoran girl I met about a month ago when I last visited New York, and the other, Anne-Sarah, a French girl I met last November when we sat next to each other on a four-hour bus ride from Vang Vieng to Vientiane, Laos. Elsa lives in New York, Anne-Sarah is currently visiting New York. I had been corresponding with both of them a couple weeks ago, and since mentioning to each that I'd be in New York this weekend, neither one has responded. This has seemed to be my luck lately, in a general sense. I write to people and they don't write back at all. Oh well, what can I say, if they haven't thought to write back, then it's probably not really worth my time to go see them, I'll just keep doing my thing here in Philly. Finally, my third reason for staying in Philly this weekend is that my dad has offered to help me pick-up a television stand from Ikea, on which I'll put my new, pre-owned television. I'll also need to buy a digital converter box and an antenna, and then I'll be set to watch football. I've effectively not had television (other than to watch dvd's) for the past three months or so (whenever the digital transition took place). Now that it's starting to get dark early, with the coming of autumn, the nights have seemed just a bit darker and lonelier lately. The distraction of television and the accompanying illusion of other human voices in my apartment will be comforting. Not to mention, watching football is one of my true and simple pleasures in life.

See, we made it to the C in TLC

Cambodia. More specifically, the town of Siem Reap.

Immediately after signing out of this 'ere blog last night in Savannakhet, Paul and I deliberated our choice of options. Option #1: stay in Savannakhet for the night, take a bus to Pakse, then try to figure out how to get from Pakse, Laos to Siem Reap, Cambodia, a pretty good distance apart, including an overland border crossing. Or, option #2: leave immediately on a 9:30pm bus from Savannakhet to Pakse, Laos, go to the Pakse airport, and see if we'd be lucky enough to buy plane tickets for a 10:30am flight from Pakse to Siem Reap, Cambodia, the next flight not being until Thursday.

We chose option #2. Although we were still pretty wiped out from being dropped-off at the side of the road outside of Savannakhet at 2:30 in the morning less than 24 hours earlier, we decided that the benefit to gaining a lot of time -- with much less hassle -- by flying to Cambodia outweighed the cost of pushing ourselves back on the road so soon.

The bus ride from Savannakhet to Pakse was about five hours long: 9:30pm to 2:30am. It was more comfortable than the hellish bus ride the previous day from Vientiane to Savannakhet. But, for me at least, there was one pretty good highlight. So I'm sitting toward the back of the bus, on an aisle seat near the stairwell that led down to the lower deck (it was a double-decker bus). Sitting next to me on my left was the stereotypical small, gray-haired, old Asian guy. Over the course of the trip he took off his sandals and his legs were short and frail enough to pull them up towards his chest and rest his feet on the edge of the seat. Anyway, about three hours into the trip, the old guy slides open the window next to him, grabs a plastic bag from the ledge in front of us, and tosses the contents of the bag out the window. I kinda chuckled at that. Oh, by the way, the bus was completely dark, as there were no street lights on Route 13, there were no other vehicles on the road besides our bus, and all the lights on the inside of the bus were turned off so people could sleep -- the only light was from the headlights of the bus and the moon high overhead. So that's the set-up when this old guy is holding the now-empty plastic bag in his hand; he then inches up to sit on the very edge of his seat, and angles his body slightly toward the wall. He sat in that position for a solid 30 seconds or more, then cautiously took the plastic bag filled with his warm piss, held it out the window, and let it fly. He sat back with a look of contentment, and I just laughed to myself.

For the second night in a row, Paul and I were dropped-off on the side of the road in the middle of the night. We were on Route 13 -- the major north-south artery in Laos -- just outside of Pakse. A Laotian guy who I had been joking with showed me his watch, and it read 15 minutes to 3am. Paul and I sat there as there was an intermittent light drizzle, until finally, about half an hour later, I was able to wave down a motorcycle with a sidecar, the driver willing to take us to the Pakse airport. But he was already taking another fellow who had to sit behind him, while Paul and I squeezed into the narrow sidecarriage, and our bulky backpacks had to be strapped to the back. We were dropped-off outside the airport, which was closed, at about 4am. We had no choice but to rest/sleep under an awning of a wooden shack on the side of the road across from the airport. I barely slept because the mosquitos began to harass me a bit. I watched the sun rise over the Laotian countryside.

We were successful at buying tickets for the 10:30am flight from Pakse to Siem Reap: US$106 each. So that now brings us to our arrival here in Cambodia. We're now staying at the River Star Hotel, right in the center of town for $15 total per night, with air-conditioning and cable television. We're within easy walking distance of tons of bars and restaurants. And I got the business card from the young guy who drove us from the airport to downtown, in case we decide to take him up on his offer for a discounted rate to drive out to the temples of Angkor Wat.

Anyway, Paul just came up to me here in the lobby of the hotel. We're gonna head out now to get a bite to eat and get things rolling for the evening. By the way, please click HERE to visit Paul's blog; his goal is to get 1000 hits before the end of the trip, so he'd appreciate your help in his cause.

Alright folks. Peace in the Middle East. Health in the Illadelph. I'm audi!!!

The world's universal sport

Futbol. Or as we United-Statesians call it: soccer. It certainly is the world's universal, unifying sport, as you'll see just a lil bit below.

Earlier this afternoon, after a long, long conversation -- concerning life and love -- over coffee (for me) and ice cream (for Paul) at the Dao Savanh restaurant here in Savannakhet, I suggested that we take a stroll to let everything digest and to see the town a little more since we're leaving tomorrow morning for Pakse. While walking along, we saw a typical storefront selling all sorts of clothing and various random items. Among those other things I noticed several soccer balls hanging there; we tried to bargain the guy down from the 60,000 kip price tag, but he wouldn't budge. We moved on, but the idea was set in my head; we had the rest of the afternoon to kill, so why not? We fortuitously came upon another shop on the other side of the nearby intersection, and were successful in bargaining down to 40,000 kip for a small soccer ball. But where were we to play? I looked down a side street right there, and saw a group of kids milling about; a couple of girls were flying a kite high, high in the air. So we walked over and tossed the ball towards the the young boys, all probably around the ages of 10-12. For the next half-hour, Paul and I played soccer with them. At the beginning they tried to dribble the ball past us. But by the end we all gathered in a circle to see how many times we could hit the ball without it hitting the ground. I should also mention that, while Paul and I were wearing sneakers, all of these kids were running around barefoot on a gravel and dirt side-street. Older people in nearby buildings would stop to watch us play with the kids. The kids had asked us where we were from, so we told them "America." At the end, having sufficiently worn ourselves out, we went around to each boy -- I shook their hand, Paul gave them a high-five -- and left them with the soccer ball. When they realized that we were leaving the soccer ball with them, the kids' faces lit up like it was Christmas morning; they were thrilled! Paul and I felt proud that we had played our role as positive intercultural ambassadors. Those kids won't forget that a couple crazy guys from America had lots of fun playing soccer with them on their little street. As I told Paul, that's the kind of shit that's not in the guidebooks, and when we look back on this trip, whether it be in just a few days or weeks or months or even many years from now, that's the kind of memory that we'll feel good about, knowing that so many other tourists stick to their Lonely Planet itinerary and follow the elephant-train of tourists from one spot to the next. We had a blast kicking the ball around with those kids, and all it took was a $5 ball and just making shit happen.

Alright, time to make a decision. We might actually take a bus out tonight, in order to get to Pakse in time to fly from there to Siem Reap, Cambodia tomorrow morning. Do I really feel like leaving right now? Not really, but we have to be mindful of the fact that time is at such a premium at this point in the trip. I gotta sign out now; time to figure out what the heck we're doing . . .

"Sabai dee"

"Hello" in Lao. I'm writing now from Savannakhet, Laos. There is much to catch up on. But I'll live it backwards: ooooh, crazy, huh? It's now Monday early afternoon in this here part of the world. What time is it in your neck of the woods? [I just made you look at the clock in the lower-right of your computer screen and answer that question with that little voice -- that sounds a lot like you! -- inside your head].

Right before coming to this internet place, Paul and I went into St. Teresia's Catholic Church, purportedly the only Catholic church in Laos, built in 1930. It's located right in the middle of town. We went in and took a few minutes to say our respective prayers. I thanked God for, among other things, allowing me the freedom and ability to make a trip like this. As much as I'm missing home right now, I'm still quite aware of the fact that I'm living a life experience, and that so many people throughout the world never see much beyond their immediate surroundings. I'm tremendously grateful to be here, and to share the sights, sounds, and smells with one of my very good friends is a very fortunate thing too.

Yesterday was a major travel day; hence the fact that I've appeared -- to you, at least -- to have been absent for a little while. We left Vang Vieng on a 10am VIP bus for Vientiane, the capital city to the south. Despite the fact that the bus was labeled as VIP, and we thought the ride would be quick, the bus moved at a snail's pace. The main redeeming aspect of the trip was that I sat next to a French girl, with whom I spoke for most of the five-hour bus ride. I was interested to find out that she's a law student back in her hometown of Paris, studying abroad in Vietnam, and -- get this -- that one of her favorite groups is The Roots (Philly's premier hip-hop band, and yes they're most certainly a band). I'll take the liberty, and risk, in admitting right here that talking with her really made me miss the companionship of a girl. To save my ass from certain retribution back home, though, I'll immediately follow-up and say that the Parisian girl and I parted ways as soon as the bus arrived in Vientiane. But the residual of that conversation got me thinking about Philly for the rest of the day and night:

"All this roamin's got me missin' home 'n' all this globe-travelin's got me unravelin'" - me

We took a very long and quite excruciating bus ride from Vientiane to Savannakhet last night; we departed at 6pm and didn't get into Savannakhet until after 2 in the morning. There were long stretches of that ride that I was staring out the window, looking out at the outstretched moonlit fields, convincing myself foolishly that I was on Route 70 back near Medford, New Jersey. And for the first couple hours of that ride, I listened to The Roots' albums "Things Fall Apart" and "The Tipping Point" back-to-back. About two hours or more into the busride, the bus driver pulled over to let everyone go take a piss in the high grass alongside the road (even an old woman went into the grass to squat down and do her thang); after relieving myself under a midnight blue canopy pierced with thousands and thousands of stars, I talked with Paul for a few minutes. I told him that I felt so homesick that it felt like my heart hurt; it felt to me that my heart was just gonna jump out of my chest and run to the airport for the next flight back to the Two-One-Five. Oh well. I understand that a trip like this comes with the full gamut of emotions.

The bus ride was rough, but I was so serene in my own dreamy thoughts that I guess it could've been worse. I sat in the second to last row at the back of the bus, so I didn't want to recline my seat, knowing that the last row couldn't recline theirs. And Paul was sitting in the seat directly in front of me, reclined as far back as possible, so my room to manuever was quite minimal. And the guy (French I think) sitting next to me didn't afford me any room to move my upper leg past the dividing line between my seat and his. I was packed in like a sardine.

When we arrived in Savannakhet, the bus literally dropped us off on the side of the road. We had no clear idea what direction to walk, as everything was closed and pretty dark. We decided to walk in the direction that we'd seen a couple Laotians walking, but we were really clueless. The first two guesthouses that we saw were locked up and inaccessible. So we just kept on walking. A security guard pointed us in the right direction, but as we found out later, we were still pretty far from the center of town. We were certainly blessed when a guy drove up and offered us a ride into town and directly to the Savanbaohao guesthouse, which happened to be one in our guidebook. The main gate was padlocked, so I hopped the fence while Paul waited outside with the bags. I walked around the entire premises, but "not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Finally, I saw the reception area, behind the desk there were two tents, so I did my best not to startle their inhabitants; I noticed a clock that said just a few minutes to 3am. Fortunately one of the guys woke up and let us have two rooms, we didn't really care what the price was, we just wanted to lay down our hats and get some shut-eye, which we definitely did.

But rewinding back to the beginning of the bus ride, something very interesting happened. Our bus was scheduled to depart at 6pm from Vientiane, which it did. But as soon as it pulled out of the station, not even one minute later, it pulled over to the side of the road. A horde of vendors came onto the bus and began hawking their candies and drinks to all the passengers. They were literally elbowing each other to be the first one down the aisle. I thought that was pretty funny, but pretty normal. Eventually they all got off the bus, but for some unknown reason we continued to sit there. After several minutes, I noticed the bus driver squating down next to the sidewalk and smoking a cigarette; by this time it was almost 6:30 and I thought to myself, what the hell is going on? Then the driver started messing around with this motorcycle; this made no sense at all. Until a couple minutes later, when I realized that two guys were bringing the motorcycle on to the bus! Let me repeat that: they brought a fucking motorcycle on to the bus and parked it in the narrow aisle between passengers. And it was not only one motorcycle, but two! Absolutely amazing. I was just laughing incredulously, especially when I realized that the Laotians were looking back to see our (the falangs': the foreigners') reaction. Later, as I said, we got out of the bus for piss breaks, those of us toward the back of the bus had to step on and climb over the motorcycles in order to get out. And that's when I also realized that they squeezed in even more passengers by making several people sit on plastic stools in the remaining section of the aisle that wasn't already used as a parking space for motorcycles. Only in the Third World, I tell ya, only in the Third World.

So let's continue on our odyssey in time from the present back to the not-so-distant past. I told you how we left Vang Vieng on that bus ride to Vientiane. Well, the day before was our big day in Vang Vieng. I mentioned in an earlier post that the main attraction in the double V is floating down the Nam Xong River on huge tractor inner tubes. What I did not mention, though, is that there are several bars located right along the river, that patrons stop at to drink Beer Lao, Tiger beer, and Mekong whiskey. Each bar is also equipped with enormous speakers, blasting out electronic music (e.g., Kernkraft 400), alternative rock (e.g., Sublime, Green Day, The Killers), and classic shit (e.g., AC/DC, Bon Jovi). These bars are filled with mostly early 20-something backpackers, wearing bikinis and bathing suits, everyone just getting fucked up from all the alcohol under a hot Lao sun. The scene can best be described as Spring Break / MTV Beachhouse, Laos style. Besides the tubing, each bar has ziplines and high platforms that revellers can ride or jump from into the river. Because I had heard that a guy had literally cracked his head open the day before (and our Rough Guide book says that people have died), I decided to be a little more cautious, and only rode one of the tamer ziplines out into the water. But other spring breakers were doing flips and all sorts of stupid tricks. An older Canadian guy who we had met on our bus ride from Luang Prabang the day before actually dislocated his shoulder on the zipline at the second bar; they had to boat him over to the other side of the river and take him back into town for medical attention. We had a lot of fun, although it was certainly tantalizing to see all those girls in bikinis; fuck I wanna go home! [straightening my tie and regaining my composure]. Umm, so anyway, another highlight was playing volleyball in a large puddle of mud (no intentional reference to the rock band) at the third bar; I would serve the ball and fall face-first so that I could splash all the other players, especially the girls [stay focused], with mud. At the last bar that we stopped off at, there was a very real feeling that we were at spring break. The Laotians had built a huge slide that shot you out into the middle of the river; the interior was lined with bathroom tiles. Paul gave it a try, while I took a photo of him, his body spit out like a rag doll into the river. There was a rosy-faced white guy manning the dj booth at that bar, and people were dancing as drunk people do. A large circle formed, so Paul and I realized that our skills were being called forth. Paul entered the circle, kneeled down in the middle, and held a bottle of Tiger beer up in the air, but not too high off the ground; everyone held their breath, wondering what I would possibly do; so I dramatically stretched and showboated for a minute before approaching the bottle, bending over, putting my mouth on the bottle and then did a flip over Paul and the bottle to land like a jackass in the dirt on the other side. I think I kinda messed up my right wrist, which still feels a little weird, but it was all for a good cause. The final stretch from the last bar to our point of disembarkation was really, really long; for at least 20 minutes we were just gently floating down the river, as the sun set behind the limestone mountains that rose imposingly not far from the riverside. It was really quite beautiful.

Well, this has become an incredibly long post. So I think I'll stop it here. What's that? You want more? Well, we'll see what we can do to deliver so more tomfoolery and shenanigans your way; our skylarking and horseplay will surely continue.

From the double V

Vang Vieng. I'll keep this one short, because I'm in a chilled out mood tonight. Two quick stories and a personal message from me to you:

For our last night in Luang Prabang, Paul and I decided to check out the much-talked about bowling alley. There is a city law that alcohol cannot be served past 11pm in Luang Prabang. To get around that law there is a bowling alley just outside the city limits that continues to serve alcohol for a bit longer. We took a tuk-tuk (that sounds funny) from the night market to our guesthouse to drop off our stuff, then we were driven out to the bowling alley. It was a really good time. I think there were eight lanes, with electronic scoreboards on monitors both above the lane and next to the chilling-out area. Around 11pm, when some more people started showing up, they began playing popular hip-hop tunes, like Cyclone, One-Two Step, and others I can't remember because the Beer Lao's were starting to get to me. For the record, I beat Paul in our first two games, by two points and then by five points, ha!

Now tonight we just went out for a bite to eat on the main drag here in Vang Vieng. Very interesting to get a "happy menu," which is apparently quite common here in VV. The happy menu literally lists a bag of weed, opium tea, a ganja joint, and about 15 other similar choices for sale. You can see why Vang Vieng is a very popular stop-over for the backpacker crowd.

Finally tonight, I just wanna thank everything for continuing to check in. I know that my writing style is very detail-oriented; for those that enjoy it, cool, for those that don't like it, you can go to hell. As much as I'm very happy to be able to pass on our stories to everyone back home and around the world, I'll admit that as much as anything, my blog -- just like my previous handwritten journals -- is a way for me to remember things after they begin to slip into the past. You see, the thing is, I've had a very bad memory for experiences my entire life; I don't know why, but that's the way I am. So, more so than most other people, I really, really need photos and my own personal words and descriptions to eventually remind me of good times past. Believe it or not, if not for these things, I would forget all but the most striking experiences. And, selfishly, I'd like to relive these memories over and over and over again. So thank you very much, kind reader, for accepting me for who I am, and also for joining us for a good ride through SE Asia.

With that said, I wish you a very good night from Vang Vieng, Laos! Buenas noches! Boa noite! Bon soir! Good night!

I've got the runs and I've got to run

That was the title that I would've used if I had written an entry first thing this morning; it was too good not to use now. The title concisely describes how I began this Friday here in Laos. My ass was explosive, creating a hazmat situation in two separate toilets at Viradesa. And Paul and I once again left one place to go to another new one.

We left Luang Prabang on a scheduled 9am mini-bus that actually departed at about 9:15am, so I could unload in the main toilet at Viradesa guesthouse, while the group of six other travelers waited for me. The bus ride was a solid six hours, with two pitstops at about the one-third and two-thirds points. Because Paul and I were the last two to get onto the minibus we were stuck having to ride shotgun -- normally a good thing, but in this case not so much so. I sat in the middle of the front bench seat, right next to the driver, so that every time he shifted to third gear, he was jabbing me in my left thigh. Paul was squeezed up against the passenger door in order to make room for my legs, which necessarily had to face away from the stick-shift. It was a difficult six hours, with pins and needles and also cramping in our muscles. I was so tired from last night, though, that I was in and out of sleep for a good part of the ride.

When I was awake, there were many observations to be made. The road from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng is not particularly long, but it winds and twists and bends through some high mountain terrain, thus making the trip much longer than it would seem on paper. The scenery looked very much like it does in the Vietnam war movies: high, limestone mountains rising straight up out of the ground, interspersed by rice paddies and open fields. The road, once again, was quite stereotypically Third World: wooden shacks on small stilts built right next to the road; more little kids running around naked than you can count; cows, water buffalo, pigs, and even ducks with ducklings walking idly along the side of the road -- or in the case of some cows, in the middle of the road; the road itself so beat up and potholed in places that the driver drove just as much on the shoulders than on the actual road.

We finally pulled in to the new bus station on the outskirts of Vang Vieng at 4pm. From there, I somehow convinced Paul, along with a British couple: John and Jenny, to walk into town -- like authentic backpackers -- instead of hiring a tuk-tuk for the umpteenth time. The 3km walk into town wasn't too bad; I passed the time by talking with John. He told me that he and Jenny quit their jobs back in the UK to come backpacking for a solid 6 months; they'll keep going until the beginning of February.

Paul and I checked into Pan's Place right on the main strip in town. Our room is in a modest bamboo bungalow, with mattresses on the floor, and geckos running on the wall (I told Paul that they're our friends because they eat insects and save us 10% or more on car insurance). This place will be our first experience with a shared toilet/shower; Paul was a bit reluctant but I told him it would be a good way to meet other travelers. We both liked the fact that there's internet right here on the premises and a television room upstairs, fully stocked with tons of movies on dvd. So that's where we stand now.

Tomorrow we'll go tubing down the Nam Kong River; it should be an awesome experience, but I won't ruin the reader's surprise by telling you why this town is packed with backpackers and exactly why the tubing will be a kick-ass experience. You'll just have to check back, ya heard?

To be continued . . .

Bad Moon Rising

Earlier tonight, while we were picking up the laundry (proud to say: first time on this trip) from another guesthouse down the lane from Viradesa, we saw the large, orange, full moon rising immediately to the left-hand side of the well-lit Buddhist temple at the top of Phou Si hill. It was surreal. That alone justified our decision to stay an extra night in Luang Prabang.

Tomorrow morning we leave at 9am on a mini-van to the village of Vang Vieng, located about 4 to 5 hours to the south. Just a few minutes ago, after we had a nice dinner -- at the Hive Bar -- of pizza and Pepsis (hey, every once in a while on a trip like this you gotta give your digestive system a break, especially after my sticky situation this morning), we popped our heads in the Lao Lao Beer Garden, just a few doors down. And whaddaya know? Who else was there but Nick and Josh, our fast-growing friends from the land down under. We found out that they're heading down to Vang Vieng on an 8am mini-van tomorrow. So we'll very likely have some more good times with those guys in the double V (not to be confused with the double-deuce and Spruce).

Well, I'm having some more rumblings originating in my intestinal area, not unlike the sounds that Jeff Daniels hears in the movie Dumb and Dumber. I think Vesuvius might be getting ready to destroy Pompeii, aka our toilet in room 12 of the Viradesa Guest House. I'll be thinking of all you guys back home while I'm doing it. Cheers!

Oh shit!

Today got off to a shitty start, as you'll soon see. Paul and I slept in this morning after a really rockin' good time last night at the full-moon party (more on that below). Actually, although we both woke up at 10am, I stayed in bed to listen to some tunes on my iPod in order to ease into the day, while Paul went out to a local internet spot to do some emails. I took my time getting up, but eventually made my way out to meet him. From there, both of us feeling quite hungry at that time, probably about 11am, I suggested that we find a place to eat along the wide, brown, "mighty and mellow" Mekong River, on which we had not eaten since our first evening after checking into our guesthouse here in Luang Prabang. As a sidenote -- and in response to a beautiful reader's question -- we are staying at the Viradesa Guesthouse here in LP (not to be confused with Linkin Park). Back to the story, then: we went to a wooden table overlooking the Mekong; I ordered a crepe with honey and Paul ordered a full omelet with a baguette. As you can see, the legacy of French colonialism here continues to endure, most especially in the cuisine. Well, I'm just finishing up my crepe, when I feel an urge that many of us feel day in and day out: I discretely picked up one ass-cheek and let one rip, but instead of a toot it was a squirt. Oh shit! The look on my face immediately telegraphed to Paul what had just happened; I told him to pay the bill and I'd get him back later, I asked the waitress where the bathroom was, she said across the street, just wonderful I thought to myself. So I gingerly stood up and made my way, step by step, across the street, into the woman's own personal home, and went directly to the bathroom, where I took off my boxers, wiped down and left them there as souvenir. Of course I went back to Viradesa, where Paul had already returned, and I took a nice long shower (the water pressure and temperature has been as good here as anywhere else). I'll have to be a bit more deliberate when busting ass throughout the rest of this trip.

Yesterday evening, after we had gotten back from the waterfalls, we decided to follow a fellow traveler's (not that kind, at least I don't think) advice, and climb to the top of Phou Si hill, which is located on the center of the peninsula that comprises most of Luang Prabang. At the top of this tall hill there is a Buddhist temple with a golden spire that can be seen for miles around. We were told that watching the sunset from the top of Phou Si is priceless, as much as or more so than any Mastercard commercial. We found out first-hand that watching the sunset from Phou Si is beautiful, perhaps even borderline magical. The sun sets behind typical green Asian mountains -- by that I mean that they look like the ends of French baguettes sticking up out of the earth -- with the slow-moving Mekong down to our right-hand side, and all below you can see the village of Luang Prabang. This experience alone -- watching the sunset -- convinces one immediately why Luang Prabang is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

A funny little thing also happened just after the sun set. All of a sudden a guy with a heavy French accent starting asking everyone (and there were tourists packed in shoulder to shoulder) to move out of the way in order to do some filming. A couple guys with professional cameras and a guy with one of those boom microphones on a long pole were there too. Then this actor with a backpack comes running up the steep steps to the cement landing where all the tourists had been taking their photos of the sunset. A minute later, a few more actors, some a bit older, came up. Since I was standing right there, one of the French actresses asked me, in French, what my nationality was. I answered her directly: "Je sui americain." I'm really losing track of all the languages I've used at least once on this trip! When the filming was over, I asked the sound guy what the filming was for; he said it was for a French reality television show called "Peking Express." Seeing all of that proved to me once and for all that reality tv is nothing but a fabricated illusion.

After climbing down the multitudinous steps from Phou Si back down to the LP night market, Paul and I headed to dinner. It was a shame to see a group of several young tourists causing problems with the Laotian owners of the restaurant. At one point I heard a young tourist say loudly, "do you know how much money we've spent here all day?" The arrogance pissed me off; I mean, really, they probably spent a total of $10 for their entire meal for all of them, which they'd be lucky to get an appetizer for that price back home. That's the kind of cultural arrogance that really irritates me. As Paul said, those tourists probably think they're superior to the Laotians; really shitty approach to life. And unfortunately I know people like this back at home. When you peel away all the money and material possessions, these kinds of people are essentially really pathetic and insecure, if you ask me. That's my two cents; which can buy a nice drink here, ha!

The highlight of the day yesterday was our night. Earlier we had stopped off to get a cup of coffee at a little spot on the lane where our guesthouse is located. We ended up having a nice conversation with a young Laotian woman there, and she recommended that we go to the full-moon party at Wat That Luang, a Buddhist temple just outside of the main drag, but not too far from Viradesa. Paul and I had met a couple Swedish girls the night before while walking through the night market, and we ran into them by chance after climbing down from Phou Si and while walking to find a place for dinner. We told them about the full-moon party and asked them if they'd wanna come along; they said yes, so we met them later in the evening so we could all walk together to the party. We also mentioned the party to Nick and Josh, the Aussies, and they ended up meeting us there later on.

The full-moon party was such a fun time! As we walked there, we could hear the music from the main road, so we knew we were heading in the right direction. Once we got there, we realized it was a summer carnival type atmosphere: games were set up all around the outside of the temple, there was a tent under which there was a guy on a microphone and another guy on a keyboard blasting out all sorts of beats and music, there was plenty of plastic patio furniture for everyone to sit down, and there was beer aplenty. We walked through the carnival and realized quickly that we were the only non-Laotians there; this was true for the rest of the night, with only one exception that I observed. Finally we had come upon a truly authentic cultural experience that was not overrun by throngs of tourists taking photos! We went to the back of the grounds, where many Laotians were offering yellow flowers as a donation at the foot of the golden Buddhist shrine, then perambulating the outside of the temple. Back that way, too, there were games set up for the kids. Of course we got involved. One game was darts, which you had to throw toward balloons stuck in wooden cubby holes. For 1000 kip, you got 3 darts. I went first and got 2 out of 3, so I got a little coffee-flavored candy. All four of us took turns throwing the darts and we laughed a lot when someone threw a bad turn. While we were doing this, a group of Laotian kids came by and watched us. Later, when Paul won a carton of orange juice, he gave it to one of the kids, who looked so happy to get it. After tossing darts for a while, we walked back toward the front of the grounds and sat down to play a game of large dice that is just too complicated to explain right now; we'll have to show you the photos when we return. Needless to say, we were surrounded by tons of kids at this point and we kept giving away our "yellow cards" (which you use to play the game) to the children so they could take part in the game with us. We all had so much fun.

And then we ended the rest of the night as a full-moon party should be enjoyed: dancing under the full moon and drinking lots of Beer Lao. And still we were the only "white" people there! We did all of this back where the microphone and dance area had been set up. While Paul, me and the Swedish girls (Linda and Emma) were having fun dancing with all the Laotians, the Aussies showed up and joined us on the dancefloor. At one point we created a circle among us and the others that were there, and we took turns jumping into the middle and dancing like fools. Also, when what must've been a traditional Laotian song came on, and the Laotians lined up in two parallel circles, I got up to join in, and did my best to mimic the hand movements that they were making. The Laotians, particularly the girls, seemed to get a real kick out of that. And then later, we all joined in a Laotian line dance, kinda similar to the electric slide, though not as corny. All of us had so much fun that we danced there for a long, long while. But eventually the girls left because they had to get up early today to go on an organized tour that would take them elephant riding. And then not long after that, the four of us guys began the walk back into the village. We agreed unanimously that it was an excellent night that would not be forgotten.

So, to all my friends reading this, wherever you may be, I hope you're enjoying the stories, and Paul and I will do our best to keep the good times rolling, hopefully with some time here and there to share our good times on our respective blogs. Because we really like this town so much, we'll stay an extra night, then tomorrow morning we'll head out to our next destination: Vang Vieng. After my long shower, I now feel fresh and ready to stroll the streets of Luang Prabang!

"Waterfalls" by TLC

For those not up to their 90s pop music, the title refers to a song from that era in American music history. I'll have to post the video from Youtube retroactively upon my return home. But for now, hopefully I have you singing the song in your head while you read this entry.

The highlight of the day was going out to Kuang Si waterfalls, about 35km outside of Luang Prabang. We started our day by going to a small open-air restaurant on the main road where the night market takes place later at night (of course). We each ordered foe mu = traditional noodle soup with pork. And actually, on our way there we went to a roadside vendor to have a shake; I got a blend of banana and dragonfruit, into which was mixed milk, coconut milk, a light-colored water (which we assume was some kind of sweetener). The fruitshake and the soup really hit the spot for breakfast.

From there we continued on to the Lao Lao Beer Garden, which is where we hung out and played pool last night (winning our first game, but then letting the Beer Lao affect us too much for our second game, which we lost). We had to go back there to meet up with Nick and Josh, a couple of guys from Australia who've been traveling throughout southeast Asia for a while. We met them back at Lao Lao Beer Garden at 11:30am, so that we could pool our kips (the Laotian currency) to get a covered flat-bed pick-up truck to take us out to the waterfalls. The four of us bargained hard with a couple of guys, until we finally got this young, good-natured (possibly high on something) Laotian guy to take us out for 140,000 kip for the four of us. Did I say 140,000?!?! Yes, the exchange rate is about 8,600 kip to just 1 U.S. dollar; it wasn't easy switching gears from the baht-dollar calculation to the kip-dollar calculation, but we college-educated American boys can roll with the punches.

Kuang Si waterfalls are amazing. The water is the color turquoise. The water was chilly, as mountain water all over the world must be, but it was tolerable, especially once you jumped in. And jump in we did. Well, actually I was the first one to wade into the water to check the temperature and more so to check the depth of the water to see if it was safe for diving; it was. So then we each, the four of us, took turns jumping off of a large branch overhanging the water, probably a good 15 feet above the surface. It was exhilirating. And the backdrop was absolutely gorgeous: tropical grass growing among the rocks right near the ledge of the waterfall, bounded by a forest on both sides and behind. The sun was shining brightly and we were all very happy to be there.

I must say, before I finish this entry -- as we will get ready to go to a full-moon party at a local temple, replete with dancing, drinking and merry-making -- that the ride to and from the waterfalls was also memorable, for me because of its nostalgic qualities. The small wooden shacks lining the road, the narrow bridges either wooden or metallic over small creeks, the high green mountains rising in the not-too-far distance, the young children running barefoot or in flip-flops along the sides of the road, and the overall ambience of the whole scene was so reminiscent of so many other roads throughout other parts of the Third World -- I was especially reminded of remote areas of Costa Rica and Nicaragua. It made my heart feel warm. People all over the world really do have so much in common.

And with that, I leave you to enjoy your Wednesday back home as my Wednesday night is about to begin. Hasta la proxima, mis amigos!

A lil' banged up in Luang Prabang

Our flight arrived in Luang Prabang, Laos earlier this afternoon. Met a group of about 12 women from Brazil (Belo Horizonte and Sao Paulo) on the flight; they taught me some key phrases in Portuguese.

Paul and I walked through the night market tonight, cool stuff. Then we went to hang out at Lao Lao Beer Garden, where we drank a few Beer Lao's. We played pool with a group of Aussie blokes; we'll meet some of them tomorrow morning and we'll all go to the Kuang Si waterfalls together. They were nice guys. The bartender gave us all a free shot of some pretty harsh stuff that was the color green: might've been Mekong whiskey. Didn't go down easy, although I did order some french fries and then garlic bread to soak it up afterwards. But I'm off to bed now either way.

Hope all is well in the States. Plus the computer that I'm on really sucks right now, so I'm done for the night. I'll write again tomorrow, God willing. As Will Smith said, "yo homes, smell ya later!"