« March 2005 | Main | May 2005 »
April 29, 2005
Spot!
Heeeeeellloo. Here's a spot, barely visible and gone before you can get out the bleach... TheOtherSide, my photoblog, has just gained about a rolls worth of pictures. 36 or so-- that's a roll, right? I'm still rather far behind, but I've got lots more ready to go...just lazy to add them. Check these out, and by the time you're finished, I'll have more up. Not much is happening, been relaxing all by myself again, as Kaity and Davin are heading back home yesterday and tomorrow... and Lonnie is off frolicking with a lady. I'm doing yoga, playing guitar, catching up with my photos, writing, always playing pool, and heading off to a birthday party at CRU (see the below entry) which should be a mix of those good sober times and of those "glasses raised high" times... Okay, I don't want this spot to turn into a stain, so off I am. Wish me luck, as I do to all of you never forgotten in my heart.
Posted by Tom Bodhi at 04:03 AM | Comments (2)
CRU
I woke up at three-eighteen in the afternoon and skipped my regular morning yoga and stretching session. It wasn't morning anymore, after-all. I also skipped my regular trip to the fridge and was left feeling a bit empty, in stomach and in soul. At three-thirty-seven, nineteen minutes later, I woke up again with very cold water pouring over my head from the shower in the downstairs bathroom. I got some in my ear. Had I paid my respects to the fridge yet? With my favorite blue towel around my waist, I pulled out the end-piece of watermelon and dug in with the biggest spoon I could find. Beyond the juicy munching that almost monopolized my ears as much as my tastes, I could hear my buddy Ray stirring in the other room. What had happened to us last night? Maybe he could shed some light. All I got in response was a series of moans that sounded like those zombies in that cheesy pseudo-horror movie we watched last week. If he couldn't remember, maybe we'd never know.
The day progressed in an expected and accepted slow and lazy manner, to say the least. Over lunch, our collective minds patched together pieces of last night into a montage of pool, food, beer, dancing, laughter, discos full of Thai people, where we stuck out like the tall white-boys that we are, bright lights and dancers on stage, confused multi-lingual conversations that typically ended in a cheers then a move to another table, and a strange trip with our new friends to a late-night restaurant where we were the elected sponsors to buy another full set of 100 Pipers Deluxe Scotch Whiskey which, at five in the morning, washed down the entire night with the included ice, soda water, and coke. Was that all? Lon had to catch a bus at five-thirty, and between eating, showering, reminiscing, and tying his shoes, he almost missed it.
Still tipsy from last night's adventure, I waved him off and found a piece of paper in my pocket. Another missing scrap of the montage, perhaps? It was a name and a phone number. Fawn was the name. The number should be called, I figured, so I dialed it up and waited nervously for an answer. After a confused exchange with a girl who didn't speak a word of English, I remembered who she was and I wanted to see her again. She invited me to her University about six kilos out of town. This girl gave me butterflies and I wasn't feeling so hot, so I debated going home, taking another shower, sleeping a bit more, and just takin' it easy, but this is Thailand and I'm here to experience that which isn't so easy and push myself to do and try new things that aren't so comfortable sometimes. I hopped on the 125-cc Wave and hoped my still-developing language skills weren't too impaired by the severe hangover I was fighting.
Fawn is a twenty-year old student at Chiang Rai's Rajabaht University (CRU from now on). She studies Food Science and is about thirty centimeters shorter than I am. She's a great dancer but like many beautiful girls, feels inadequate and mai soo-ay (translation: not beautiful) because of various unfortunate cultural reasons. She is of Thai and Taiwanese decent and has beautiful eyes and hair to prove it. She is proof also of my improving proficiency of the Thai language, as her English language skills are extremely basic. Likewise are those of her friends, who were all very eager to meet me and ask endless streams of questions all at the exact same time. I tried my best to concentrate.
Fawn, six of her friends, and I sat outside around a small painted picnic table for well over four hours. There was a bag of lychee and two bowls of glass noodles in the center, the later of which no one touched the entire time. I'm still not sure why. We talked about anything and everything with our somewhat limited language skills. A feeling rose in me that I'd almost forgotten... Can you remember those good days in grade-school at lunchtime, or on camping trips when life was so simple yet so new and exciting? I honestly can't find the words to describe those times, they're beyond adjectives, but I hope you feel what I'm getting at. At CRU, we were mature but open-minded human beings placed back into those innocent and fun-filled days of fifth, sixth, and seventh-grade.
We continued the good times by the lakeside near to their dorm for another few hours. Friends of friends drove by on motorcycles and stopped to share a few laughs and worries about tomorrow's looming test. Thai pop rock music and it's sickeningly sappy love-song lyrics drifted to my ears; fortunately I only understood enough to keep me from going insane. There were only about four stars in another typical Thai night sky, filled with haze and clouds and an almost full moon. No one was smoking. No one was drinking anything but water. Everyone was smiling, laughing, interested, and therefore interesting. I haven't spent time like that with people like them for many, many years.
Where has our cynicism come from? Consciously or not, why do we let pessimism and ill-contentment run into these minds that have such potential? Can we not just be together as the funny social animals we are without some kind of altered state or a need for something unreachable? We can, you know we can, but it's easy to fall into the vices of our civilized world and let the cynicism take over. As my half forgotten last night proved, a lot of fun can be had with alcohol and the altered states that come with it. As tonight proved, there's something magical about a healthy liver and a clear head that is deeply in love with life and the amazing souls that populate it.
They say everything in moderation, right? Altered states of mind are only altered if you maintain a connection with the real mind that you've had since before you can remember. It is the same mind that could carelessly swing on the swing-set for hours everyday, hang from the monkey-bars just to hang, play cards in the shade of the cedar for fun instead of shots, or just talk of nothing but silly matters that are more important than we realize. Those simple times keep us young, happy, and full of life. We can't be kids forever, but nothing says you have to grow up past your true human nature.
Posted by Tom Bodhi at 03:58 AM | Comments (1)
April 24, 2005
Wet & Dry, Day & Night, Eternal Smiles
It's the end of a hot summer in Northern Thailand and a little five year old boy is unleashing a huge amount of water my direction from a bigger squirt gun than I ever had even when I was twelve. The look on his face is terrifying but melt-your-heart cute at the same time as a battle cry escapes from his gritted teeth framed by such a wonderful smile. Laughing, while struggling with the huge weapon of water, he charges. I turn to run but it's too late-- I'm nailed in the square of my neck and then down my back with icy water; so cold it feels as if it's piercing my very skin with millions of little needles. He stops shooting and I stop running. I turn to surrender all the while planning his drenching, but as I do, the stabbing ice is back-- this time in my ear and face. So cold! Where did he get that ice?! All I have is warm canal water, but it'll have to do. My 10-liter bucket leads me towards him, helpfully shielding my eyes from his chilling spear of water. Finally, he runs out of water and I have plenty. He sees what I plan to do and tries to run, but it's too late. He stops when he knows he's been had as well. Ten liters of wonderful water pour over his black hair and down his Batman tee-shirt. As the last of it drips off those lengthly lashes, he glances back up at me with a compassionate, almost thankful smile, and darts off into the crowd to refill his super-soaker with ice water.
Hours later, shivering cold and covered in goose-bumps, I'm trying to make my way back to my room through the 101˚F heat. Just when I think I've made it, a diesel pickup truck rolls by me with about a dozen smiling faces in the back and the same number of full buckets. I might as well go down with a spray, I figure, so with my one-shot, pump-action, ram-rod shooter filled with ice water I scored a few blocks back, I open fire on the truck. Screams and water are quickly returned and I'm more drenched than I ever thought possible without being actually submerged underwater. "Happy New Year!" they shout in Thai. Finally, I'm standing in a dripping puddle at my door as I dig out the key from the plastic bag also containing my cash, my cell (still dry!), and my daily Thai vocab list that is already a couple of days late. I'll run a shower, which, at the end of the whole day in town, is almost too much water to handle, and then put on some completely dry clothes over my saturated and wrinkled body. The sun is disappearing over the not-so-distant mountain, painting a beautiful picture of Doi Sutep, the magnificent temple on the summit, looking over the dry valley of Chiang Mai.
Songkran is a celebration of water, a welcoming to the return of the monsoon weather, and a time of new beginnings for a new year. At first impression, it might appear to be a ridiculous and foolish waste of water, but when huge downpours and thunderstorms roll in for the first time in many weeks on the first day of the celebration and for a few hours each day thereafter, it makes one believe this festival is something truely more than just a nationwide waterfight. A spiritual celebration of life, water, rain, and good agriculture, or just a silly drunken holiday that boosts cheap super-soaker sales a hundred-fold, Songkran is an unforgettable event that could only proceed so smoothly in such a loving and friendly Buddhist culture that exists here in Thailand.
Posted by Tom Bodhi at 08:12 AM | Comments (0)
April 17, 2005
First Hours of Songkran
As I came around the corner, waiting to cross the street over the moat, I saw a boy and his friend swimming in the murky water of the Chiang Mai canals. He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and watched as he was trying to climb up the steep, slippery, rock lined shore of the moat. He made it a bit further up on each attempt, but would always loose his grip and slide back into the depths. I admired his determination and offered him a hand as he clawed his way back up. He didn't weigh much and made it out easily this time. His friend seemed content staying in the water so I smiled and turned to go just as I noticed the bucket of water that had been sitting on the sidewalk near the boys the whole time. The only thing different now was that it wasn't on the sidewalk. It was raised over the rescued boys shoulder and with a devious scream of delight, he charged and laughed as two gallons of water came flying my direction. As I dripped off down the sidewalk, I forgot all about the mid-summer April heat and watched as the boy slid gracefully back into the moat-- waiting for his next victim to offer a helping hand, no doubt.
Later on...
The day started hot, sunny, clear, and hot. A walk through town changed all that, as I was drenched by little kids, big kids, beautiful girls, topless expats, sexy lady boys. Businesses were closed, especially the bookshops, and swimming pools were empty. The ancient canals of Chiang Mai were party central. As the hours ticked by, newly formed clouds grew big and dark, threatening even more drenching. How could I get any more wet? By the time my second breakfast was finished, chance encounters on the street brought all the friends back together again. We took a walk downtown -through and under gallons of flying water- to the main gate where the mobile faucets were set up for the sole purpose of filling buckets to soak passerby. Almost painful ice water from the beer coolers. Constrastingly warm water from the murky canals. All of it infinately refreshing. Some of it diluting my open beer... I'd better trust my immune system. As we stopped by a friends bar, the clouds finally opened up their arms and soaked us. It was a truely amazing show of human happiness and nature in syncronicity. Everything was wet. Have you ever had a water fight in a thunderstorm? Be it super soakers, hand-held pistols full of ice water, hoses, water bottles, or huge buckets from the back of a pickup truck, water was flying not only from the sky, but from smiling hands and their smiling faces; a genuinely happy and healthy drenching of everyone's stress, worries, frustrations, and negativity--all being washed down the storm drains along with the tar and oil filled road water after such a long dry spell. Happy New Year (Sabaai Dee Bee Mai in Thai) and good luck was wished upon us as we walked down the gauntlet sections of downtown, every inch saturated by a new bucket every few feet by smiling people, Thai and Farang. Nowhere else in the world can I imagine this happening so smoothly; it is a grand display of the genuine good-hearted nature of so many beautiful people; not to be missed by anyone who shares this sanuk feeling, this love of life, this carefree laughter, these smiles you just can't get away from... and this was only the first day.
Posted by Tom Bodhi at 02:20 AM | Comments (2)
April 10, 2005
Hobbes
Is he thirsty? Not anymore. Is he hungry? Maybe. Is he looking for a place to die? Already tried under the pool table. What's his story? It depends on who you ask...Rumor has it, there was an accident earlier tonight. At around two in the morning, a couple was coming back over the bridge from the Bamboo Bar on their Honda Wave motorbike rented just hours before. Notorious for its late night, past-curfew alcohol sales, the Bamboo Bar had supplied them with a fair amount of beers. As they dropped over the lip on the far edge of the bridge, a pair of eyes stared shocked motionless into their headlights. It was too late. Brakes and wheels screeching, the back tire swung out sideways in a slide and clipped his hind legs just enough to knock his small but fit body into a full spin as he collapsed to the ground. The couple recovered and looked back a bit shocked as they took off with unfriendly thoughts towards the many stray Thai dogs that populate this country.
Hobbes was so scared, but slowly made his way to a familiar place. That loud human contraption had really hurt! Why can't I feel my legs? When can I chase squirrels again? I'm scared. He hobbled around the block into the driveway as his two back legs dragged behind him in a very helpless fashion. Baan Tawan guesthouse was where his best friend, Jeap, lived. They got involved at one point when they were younger, but had decided just to be friends from then on, and good friends they were. Jeap came running over and after some sniffs and licks, they were lying together in the grass near where the humans played their silly games. She didn't like the look of her friends injuries one bit. Revealed by spine-chilling cries of pain, trying to move must have felt terrible. There were humans here, why weren't they helping?
I'd played so many games of pool already, but what else was there to do? It was three in the morning and the night had been interesting. A new game was invented involving holding one hand behind the back, the other holding a pool cue, and lots of alcohol. Also, a new visitor to Baan Tawan had showed up. This poor dog must have gotten hit by a car or something, it couldn't move the lower half of his body. Nobody knew it's name or where he came from, but he lay himself in the grass near our pool table and whimpered. Some aspirin and peanut butter? Sure. He was a sad sight. None of us wanted to discuss the reality of what most likely needed to happen. Was there anyone to drive the four hours through the mountains to a vet in Chiang Mai? No. What were the alternatives to a life of paralysis? Lethal injection? Gas chamber? They call those humane, right? This is Thailand and a bullet is the accepted method, but who has the strength to shoot a puppy?
Whatever happens, tomorrow it will be dealt with, I'm sure. It's four o'clock and I named him Hobbes. He is lonely and trembling and full of heart-wrenching cries. As I closed the doors to my bungalow he stared up at me from the bottom of the stairs with true puppy dog eyes. As the words spill onto the page, he's made a bed underneath my stilt-raised bedroom; I can hear the fear in his yelps and howls. I hope he's warm.
Life is hard sometimes, for us humans and our animal friends alike. There are heartbreaking moments throughout that can take you by surprise and really test your love of life. Our hearts can fill with such strong emotion sometimes, like exuberance and elation, or a tragic loss that can rival physical pain. It's a sad truth that most of the best things in life are not long lasting. When you're given a choice, you can either experience the good and accept the bad that comes along, or you can try to stay in-between, hovering in the neutral middle-ground between happiness and sorrow, love and love lost, ecstasy and misery.
I choose the path of feeling. Sweet just isn't as sweet without some bitterness to provide contrast, and if you work things just right, it's not hard to be feeling sweet most of your days. I always tell people being upset is a terrible waste of time when you could be laughing, don't you think? Let the love flow, for the feeling of opening your eyes first thing in the morning and then being able to close them again, for each meal, for each kiss, for each shower, for every smile given and returned even sweeter, for every amazing soul you'll meet on every amazing day. You will feel more alive than ever before!
Posted by Tom Bodhi at 03:51 AM | Comments (1)
April 08, 2005
Premature Water Fights
Wow how the time rushes by faster than a jet plane yet as silent as the peace you can find deep underwater. Someday I'll go diving. Three days ago I was supposed to board a plane heading for the west coast of the states...but a simple phone call told them I wouldn't be showing up at the airport again until June 7th. That's the day y'all, just in time to make it for my sister's college graduation in Eugene, Oregon. I'll see you others at the river, both of which (you and the river) I miss dearly. We're in Chiang Mai again getting hyped up for the nationwide water fight called Songkran. It's hard to contain ourselves, it's not supposed to start for another couple days, but pushes into the pool and glasses of ice water have been getting a bit "out of hand"... Life is great, great, great! More later, for sure...been busy these days!
-Bodhi
PS. Did you have a set bedtime when you were a kid? Did you ever have to go to sleep before the sun went down? Do you think that has anything to do with insomnia in your later years? Are you a healthy sleeper?
Posted by Tom Bodhi at 06:53 AM | Comments (0)