Thunderstorms

People ask all the time if I miss Florida. The obvious answer is yes, of course. I miss family, friends, sunshine, beaches... the list is long. However, every now and then I am reminded of something that I didn't realise I even missed.
As I was about to step out the door this morning, the house was suddenly filled with an electric blue glow and there was a rumble in the distance, a thunderstorm! I stood motionless waiting for another bolt of lightning or clap of thunder but that was it. Just one lousy bolt and little rumble and all I had left was torrential wind and spitting rain.
London thunderstorms have nothing on Tampa thunderstorm! Storms terrified me as a child. At the first distant grumble of thunder our golden retriever would make a b line to the bath tub. The curtain would come crashing down and any unexpecting bather would have a surprise guest. However, as an adult I find them strangely soothing. Something about the quiet and calmness between rumblings and the safety of a home in the midst of a storm. Even better (and also missed) are the rainless storms, lightning spidering across a midnight blue sky in the heat and humidity of an August evening... yes, I do miss Florida. The scent of rain in the air, the steam rising from sun drenched blacktop and the feel of rain dampened skin as you dash umbrella less through a storm from car to destination. Lightning and thunder filled nights followed by warm, sunny mornings. Yes, I do miss Florida.
The last three years I thought I hated rain but now I realise I just hate cold, windy, 'I have to wait for the bus in this' rain. For the record, I don't miss the 'can't see the end of your car hood when your driving' rain or the 'I only have 1 day at the beach' rain. It's not all puppy dogs and cotton candy in Florida but it is easy to forget about the things that we couldn't wait to leave behind.

Bitching, Moaning and Dancing

The danger of writing in the morning is that all my posts could easily become a saga about what has become a daily epic journey across London. There would be moments of pure delight and hearty laughter but mostly you'd be asking "Why do they live in London, again?" So for your benefit (and for my sanity) I am going to keep the morning journey saga to a minimum.

I woke this morning with my mom's voice ringing in my ears. For years I listened to her say, "its a school night, you aren't going to..." I hated the lecture that followed my persistence requests to go to where ever I had to be on that particular Wednesday at 11 pm. I don't remember the exact words but it was something like... If you could stay out late and still get up tomorrow without bitching and moaning then I would let you go. My argument would continue, But mom I can get up and I won't bitch and moan. I can close my own eyes now and picture my mother's eyes rolling like no teenager could ever even hope to duplicate. My mom knew the truth and there was no way she was going to deal with her spoiled rotten 16 year old daughter at 6 am without bitching and moaning.

So why was I left lying in bed thinking about this at 6 o'clock this morning? I went out last night. Defiant and confident that I would have no trouble getting up and making it in for my normal 8:30 start sans bitching or moaning. Not the first time I've set out to prove my mother wrong only to realise the lady was far smarter than her 16 year old daughter gave her credit for all those years ago. Somewhere Deb is looking down on me wiggling about with pointer fingers extended towards the sky doing a ridiculous victory dance and chanting "I was right!"

And in case you were wondering... It is 8:55 am and I am currently stuck on the jubilee line with 6 stops to go. The driver just informed us that there is a defective train ahead and we won't be moving for awhile. I am bitching, moaning and late. 0 for 3 on this Thursday morning. Dance away mom...

Things we learn the hard way..

1. To always lock your windows.
2. To take your umbrella even if Carol says it will be dry with sunny spells. Carol is crap at predicting weather.
3. That a 12 mile trip in London will likely take an hour or longer by car.
4. TFL's definition if good service does not always match your own.
5. The Metro does not use the non transferable newsprint ink.
6. No one will tell you about the newsprint ink smeared across your face. You will discover it yourself when you go to the loo around 11:45 am!
7. Wearing skirts in November in London is tricky business. London winds always know just how to blow even the snuggest of skirts straight up for every builders delight.
And 8. You will never be wearing the right knickers for the right occasion.

Just another manic Monday...

Definitely wishing it were Sunday!
Alas, it is off to work I go but got a nice little surprise when I ran into the hubby on the train. He left a good 15 minutes before me but is bus died and he had to walk. Bumping into each other on public transport is becoming a habit of ours. A sure sign we officially live here and are settled is when we run into other people we know while out and about on the city. Always nice to look up and see a smiling face on a crowded train full of grumpy Guses! Even if it only for one stop.
Changing the subject (as you already know how I feel about London trains!)... We joined Zipcar! Had our first jaunt about town this weekend in a VW something or another. The concept is simple , cars are parked in designated dots all over the city. You can reserve one online for as long or as short as you want paying a small fee by the hour including 40 miles and gas per rental. Our first rental taught us a fee lessons. 1. Never underestimate how long it takes to go 15 miles in London. 2. Returning the car late is a costly miscalculation. and 3. Always leave the house with adequately charged mobile phones.
Sunday's journey took us to IKEA for home purchases and then to a Christmas tree farm in Kent. We were able to walk through the fields and puck our tree! The man cut it down as we watched... the experience had a Griswold feel to it which added to the excitement. We gave the tree several good shakes to ensure any little critters had vacated prior to setting it up inside. Nothing ruins the holidays like a squirrel in the Christmas tree! A few finishing touches and the house will be ready for the 25th if December!
In that note, I am one stop away from getting this Monday officially underway. Thanks for keeping me company on my morning journey! X

Renewed effort

So we all accept that I am rubbish at updating this blog. The main barrier is life... seriously real life is always getting in the way of the things I love. Writing, traveling, napping... I realised while in Hong Kong that I could get used to the easy, lady that lunches lifestyle. Alas, that lifestyle can only be mine at fleeting moments. Moments that I will take and cherish whenever I can get them, thanks to my fabulous husband and occasional Sugar Daddy!  But at the same time I am going to make a point to carve time out of real life for writing.
Currently, I am standing on the 6:45 am train into work, single finger pecking on my phone and not holding on... writing is a dangerous habit! Me being on the train with strangers before 7 am is even more dangerous. I think politeness and basic manners have lost there place in this word. Watching big burly men push ladies to the side as they head to open seats is common place. I get that we all have long days ahead and varying degrees of reasons for wanting to sit but to push another human to the side is just plain gross. Gross might not be the right word but I am in need of my morning coffee so gross it will be. After 7 am I am more likely to scoff, passively comment under my breath, shake my head and issue a dirty look at the culprit. Before 7 am, my mouth is making sounds before I have a chance to stop it."What is wrong with you?" "Seriously?" "Get up and let that poor lady you trampled sit down." "Yes, I am talking to you." All words accompanied with said scoffing, looks and head shaking... but nothing passive here. Just to put the icing on the cake, I thank him for ultimately getting up and tell him when he gets off (at the very next stop!) to have a good day. Chuckles erupt on the normally silent train and the ladies all share a knowing smile... a drop of water in the ocean but at least that one lady got a seat this morning.
Tomorrow commute will be an after 7 am'er.
On a side note, I have seen a man without pants (the American or British variety) two days running... and not the same man either. Here's hoping this won't be a hat trick!

Day Five: Part 1

I define heaven as aNy place where I am treated like a queen. Silk robe laid out, slippers on stand by, bath waiting, room lit with candles and a specially chosen scent to match my mood wafting through the air. And of course my own personal (for 90 minutes at least) massuere to kneed away all my worries. By that definition, I have just spent the better part of my morning in heaven. Now I am sitting in the lounge sipping (free) bubbly and nibbling (free) treats. The only stress in my mind is knowing that as soon as I post this blog CK will get a copy via email while he is slaving away at work. Sorry dear... And thanks for bringing me to Hong Kong. X

Day Four: Hong Kongs Only Attraction

Shopping, of course.
I set out with a plan... Hit up the designer sample sales, then the Sosa Mall, maybe a few temples and then back to TST for an up and coming HK Designers mall. I have just sat down for the first time after 10 hours of shopping... No lunch, no water breaks and no temples... Just shopping except for the 60 minute semi lost excursion into lands unknown. I've been elbowed, kicked, stepped on and possibly poked in the ribs by little Asian ladies all day. They take their shopping serious. At one point I had a few things in my hands trying to decide on sizes when a woman took both items from my hands and walked away with them. I could have fought or said something but since I was slowly losing my will to live, I just let her walk away.I left the store and head out to ride the double decker trolley... because there is no other way to wipe away your shopping tears than on a trolley.
On I hopped and away it went (clang clang went the trolley), 15 minutes later I was suddenly aware that I had gone the wrong direction. So, off I hopped and then started the journey to the right place... 30 minutes, 2 buses and a subway ride later I was saddling up to mall number 3.
A good idea in theory as it was half way between the last destination, the next destination and the hotel. However, I quickly discovered that Ocean Galleria (or something to that effect) does not cater to my budget. I am pretty sure that only 1% of the worlds population could shop here. The mall itself was teeming with people but the shops (Valentino, Prada, etc) were empty except for security and the shop assistance. So needless to say I was on to the fianl destination rather quickly.
A lovely back alley, 5 story office building that has been gutted and filled with stalls. I had my heart set on designers manning their areas with needle and thread in hand but was disappointed to find most stuff was imported from Korea. The stall keepers were all painfully cool and did everything in their power to make shoppers feel uncomfortable in the stalls.
Not a total wash as I did make away with some bootie. Shoes, cardagian, vest top, jacket and scarf! However, there will be no photos to commemorate the adventure as photography is banned in the malls! Seriously, one snap of a poorly worded t-shirt sent security running from their secret hideaway threatening to take my memory card until I convinced them the blurry image had been deleted. Security told me in broken English that photos of public spaces were a threat to national security. I suppose if you want to inflict maximum damage in HK blowing up a mall would do the trick! Now this blog post will never make it past China censors! Just to be clear I in no way condone blowing things up malls or otherwise.
Tomorrow's plan... Traditional Chinese massage at 10:30 preceded by a ritual bathing to prepare me for ultimate benefit and followed by lounging at the rooftop pool. Closing out the afternoon with high tea at the Peninsula Hotel and then dinner with the hubby. A day of shopping followed by a day of pampering... Folks, you are witnessing the birth of a monster!

Day 3: An Attempt to Escape the Smog

Over (or under if you take the express bus) the mountain and through the semi jungle lies Stanley... More markets, a dip in the bay and unfortunately more smog, too. Most of the photos just look hazy. Hazy: noun, what the locals call the smog in Hong Kong.

Another bus, another country, another adventure

I am sat on the top of a double Decker bus to Stanley on the southern side of Hong Kong Island. Can't help but recall our adventures via bus in Laos and Cambodia. There are differences today; the bus was built in this century, it is not held together with duck tape and there is no thumping of bad techno music to be heard. And, of course, this is a solo bus journey.
I've been fighting the urge to visit the same markets as yesterday. Staying within walking distance of the hotel is appealing. But the thought of missing an adventure is mire than enough to pull me along through the subway, onto the bus and ultimately  wapping 15 km over (possibly under as I've heard rumor of a tunnel) the hills to southern Hong Kong Island.
Typing on a tiny phone on a bumpy bus is less than ideal... so I will end with this... I am a lucky lucky girl and am trying my best to make the most of every possible opportunity.

Day 2: Birds, Fish and Gnomes (Oh My!)

Hong Kong Day 1: In Pictures

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Hong Kong

Thinking back to our trip to Bangkok, I remember thinking this is the land where West and East collide in spectacular fashion. Well, Hong Kong is the land the West consumed and the East is eager to reclaim! I have never seen so many high rise buildings in one place. Nor have I seen so many malls and shops. Around every corner is a Prada, Gucci, Dunhill, Longchamp, Tiffany, D&G, Coach, Valentino... You get the picture... And in-between are every other possible shop you could imagine including door to door malls and gallerias. And I suspect, from what I could see, they are full of people. As I type, it is Sunday night at 10:58 pm and as I look out my 40th story window I can see hundreds of people in the streets, the shops are all open and the neon lights are aglow! Speaking of 40th story, we aren't close to being the tallest building...by a long shot! The main thing reminding me that we are in Asia is the fact that I tower of most of the women and the majority of the men!

I have not fully formed my thoughts on this crazy little island. But I can say with certainty that I am looking forward to getting to know it. Today we wondered around Hong Kong Island, riding the Peak Tram to the top of Victoria Peak, took in the views of the Harbor and the skyline over a late lunch, then road the bus down to Central Pier to take the Star Ferry back to Kowloon and finally enjoyed drinks and dinner while watching the nightly laser light show along the skyline.

The bed is calling me now but I will try to upload photos tomorrow. I until then...

The Witchiest Witch There Ever Was...

My fondest memories of Halloween involve my mother applying rubber warts to my nose, green paint to my cheeks, gray color to my hair and long black plastic nails to my fingers as I would sit practising my best witch's cackle. For years, I choose to be a witch and my mother obliged. I wonder if she ever secretly hoped for me to be a princess or Mini Mouse or anything slightly less dark. There were other costumes, I am sure but none seem to stick so solidly in my memory. I recall a being a Gypsy; dressed in my mother's long white skirt rolled up countless times at the waist and a Hawaiian print shirt tied in a knot with plastic bangles on my wrists and several inches of my mother’s make-up plastered onto my face. I asked my mom what a Gypsy was and she gave me the reply that would become standard. “They are the people who left you on our doorstep as a baby.”  Looking back, I think the Gypsy costume was one of my mom’s last minute wonders, seeing as how my brother was a ghost fashioned out of a white sheet! But it didn’t matter; last minute or ages of planning my mother had a knack for making it happen on the big day. I don’t recall shopping for costumes or discussing options or the lead up to the big day. What I remember is my mom’s warm breathe on my face as she painstakingly applied mascara to my tiny lashes as I giggled uncontrollably. I can see her now stepping back to take me all in before applying a last minute touch of green or black paint.  I also remember her consoling hugs as I cried about the loss of every last one of those black plastic nails.  And then there are the photography sessions with the Kodak Disc that have produced a photographic essay of my transformation, year after year into one of the most believable witch’s to ever walk the trick or treat circuit since Salem Witchcraft Trials of 1692.

From the Sky Train in BKK

Bangkok....again!

Found this in my drafts folder... Thought I would share!

It is hard to believe we are back in Bangkok and wrapping up our 3 weeks of travel. Seems like yesterday we were wondering through Chinatown in search of our first guesthouse with wide eyes and open mouths trying to take it all in. Now it has been 3 countries, 7 towns, a few villages, 10 hotels/guesthouses and a lifetime of experiences. Our last few days in Phnom Phen were relaxed. We have been moving at a pace that is impossible to maintain for 3 weeks straight and there are only so many temples and makets one can visit...that is clearly CK talking as I could go to markets and temples all day everyday and never get tired! We woke up early yesterday morning and enjoyed ourbreakfast by the pool before heading to the central market. I had told CK the day before that if we found a cricket vender I was going to eat one. As we shopped around, looking at all the same things we have seen at every market we have visited, we happened upon a a lady with 7 baskets of fried delicacies. She had massive cockroaches as well as itty bitty ones, crickets, scorpions the size of my palm, frogs fried whole, and huge grasshoppers. There we stood staring down at the baskets. Surprisingly, they did not look as gross as I had expected (a sure sign that we need to get back to the western world) but not so surprisingly I could notbring myself to eat one. I stood staring and repeating my mantra from the waterfall leap a few weeks ago... I will never stand in this spot again... but nothing. I guess there are just some experiences I am willing to miss!
We finished up at the market and headed out to meet our tuk tuk driver, Mr. Chum. He was one we picked up outside the hotel and not our trusty Rina who Lindsay recommended and who drove us all around PP for 3 days and even hired a boat for us to do a sunset crusie on the Tonle Sap River. Mr. Chum spoke English but I am not sure he understood what the words leaving his mouth meant. We agreed to head to a cafe on the way to the hotel so we could grab an iced coffee... material for another post iced coffee with sweet milk is YUMMY... on the way we turned down a street that was at a dead stand still. Motos, cars, tuk tuks everywhere with children of various sizes running in between. It only took a few moments to realise we were at a school. Most schools here run 2 sessions, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, in order to fit all the children into lessons. Mr. Chum slowly weaved his way through the traffic as we thought "this is a funny road to take to the cafe." It was within a few minutes of hectic congestion and toes being run over (not ours) that we realised that Mr. Chum had taken a detour to pick his daughter up from school! What can you do in these situations but laugh. We have been subjected to many transportation detours during our travels and in comparison this one was not so bad.

Kampot from CK's Prospective

A recent email from CK about our weekend in Kampot...
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> A month or two before we left for our trip, our friend Vim from high school (who Michelle met in Atlanta) put us in touch with her friend who lives in Phnom Penh. Lindsey is originally from Buffalo but moved to PP a few months ago for an adventure and also to teach. After a few email exchanges, Lindsey convinced us that taking a weekend trip down south to Kampot would be a great relaxing break from our hectic travels...looking back now I think it was my favorite part of our trip yet.
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> Lindsey met us at our hotel in PP on Friday night and we all split the cost of a taxi to Kampot. I can't begin to describe how luxurious the ride was when compared to all of recent buses, tuk tuks, etc! The journey took about 2.5 hours consisting of the constant swerving to avoid cows, water buffalo, chickens, children and pigs which has strangely become normal. Street addresses don't really seem to exist in this part of the world, so as we approached Kampot we called the guesthouse and had the taxi driver speak directly to the staff. Directions consisted of turning right at a temple entrance with two lions, following a dirt path to a mosque, driving through the mosque (seriously we almost hit it!), around a few villages (at which point our taxi driver was laughing out loud at how ridiculous the journey was) until finally being met on the road by a dog, which led us the way for another 5 mins down a few more dirt paths to the guesthouse.
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> We arrived at the Ganesha "eco-resort" just after 9pm, just in time to meet with the eccentric German owner and receive our flashlights that would be our primary lighting for the weekend. Lindsey booked us a large Yurt to share, which is essentially a large tent - no bathroom, a/c, or any real walls in sight! The unexpected surprise is that unlike what was listed on their website, we did have electricity - well, enough to power a few lanterns and a single fan (which I made sure got a good workout). We fell asleep under our mosquito nets to the sounds of geckos calling just above our heads.
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> After breakfast the next morning, we noticed a sign saying that the hotel could arrange motorbike rentals for 5 USD a day...I also realized that I finally had an ally in Lindsey, who had also never ridden one but always wanted to. A quick chat with the owner and the next thing we knew three motorbikes were delivered to our yurt. This was followed by me bringing up the fact that none of us had ever even been on one before. No problem, the woman who ran the guesthouse kindly pointed out to me the accelerator, gears, brakes and (most importantly) the horn. After a few shaky initial goings, we were off tearing up the dirt paths.
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> We decided to ride up the the Secret Lake, which not so secretly was the most identifiable landmark on our unnecessarily large tourist map. However as we were riding on the main road through the town of Kampot, I suddenly realized I had no control over my bike - the back end was swerving all over the place. Realizing something was very wrong, I pulled over to the side of the road to find my back tire completely flat! Now I've had flat tires when driving cars before and it usually takes a minute or so to realize somethings not right, this is certainly not the case on a machine with only 2 wheels! However after a call back to the guesthouse and Lindsey somehow communicating with a few nice locals to get on the phone to tell them where we were, a new bike appeared and we were once again off to the lake.
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> The Secret Lake was actually built by the Khmer Rouge some time ago, I'm guessing to help with irrigation for the fields but not entirely sure. We drove around the lake before spotting a couple of thatched roof huts next to the water with hammocks. We stopped, grabbed a couple of "cocas" and laid in the hammocks for the next hour or two just enjoying the scenery. The lake was surrounded by durian plantations, mountains and fields. We thought about taking a dip in the lake (which was recommended) but I was put off by the fact that we'd be swimming alongside cows! We met a few fellow travellers by the lake and were told of a couple nice places around town to go swimming so we jumped back on our bikes and headed to a swimming pool near the town.
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> It was so nice to be able to drive ourselves around for a change and not be dependent on tuk tuk drivers or taxis. The best part by far was the children in the villages that we drove past. As soon as they'd see us they'd scream "HELLO" as loud as they possibly could and wave their hands. This is the extent of their English for the most part, but it was so cute and their smiles were amazing. This was the Cambodia we were looking for! We stopped all along the roads and talked with the locals and children - all were very friendly and happy to say hello, give us directions or simply give a smile. I think that single ride through town made the trip for both Jen and I, absolutely amazing!
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> We spent the rest of the day lounging by a pool before returning to our yurt to watch the sunset while swinging from hammocks again. Probably one of the best days of my life, and we decided to repeat it again the next day before heading back to PP by taxi.
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> Can't wait to share the pictures from this part of our trip - I only hope they capture how amazing this place is. I don't know if we'll ever make it back to this part of the world again, but if we do Kampot will be on top of my list of places to visit. Only next time I want to spend at least a week (if not month) just there, riding a motorbike around town and taking it all in.
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> Sent from my iPod

Where Old and New Collide

It is not unusual to see chickens running about on a side street or a person pushing a wooden hand cart while just around the corner is a shop selling the latest tvs or motos. Saffron clad monks sit in internet cafes or zip thru the streets on the back of a moto. This is the place where old east and new west collide in spectacular fashion. It is almost impossible to capture this phenomenon in photographs for in the very moment you see it it is gone. The chickens duck into open air buildings, the motos zoom past or giant beer trucks obstruct your view of the old man selling mangos and bananas from his wooden cart. I've said it once but it is still true; sensory overload is my current state. It would take years to absorb every sight. However, the smells seem to arrive all at once! As breathtaking and amazing these last few weeks have been I have come to realize that the amount of environmental destruction is equally breath taking. Deforestation, litter, pollution, chemical run off into the rivers; you name it and it is here. In one snap shot you have mountains, streams, and piles of ripe rubbish. People have no descreation in dumping their trash. They pile it next to homes, businesses, schools, hospitals, and they do not seem to mind the pungent smell as it bakes in the sun. They sit eating their meals and their kids run about the mess in barefeet. It is amazing and terrible all in the same moment. Despite this I am still in love with Cambodia and Laos. Countries where worlds collide and ancient culture clings to the people like red dust to the cheeks of the children playing along the roads. I know why people come to visit and never leave.

Real life...

Will be next to impossible to go back to in less than a week. In Kampot we have found a little slice of paradise. Kind people, beautiful surroundings and scores of 'hello' children. Yesterday we rented scooters (against my better judgement) and set off to explore Kampot. First to the not so secret lake and then through the city (I use that term loosely) and finally we found a guest house along the river with amazing views and a refreshing pool. Reluctantly we left the pool to return to our yurt... and a brilliant sunset over the mountains from a hammock swinging gently. How do we go back to real life after this? Back to tube rides and traffic... here traffic is a line of motos carrying brightly dressed girls to weddings or a tuk tuk loaded well past capacity with 5 families as well as their market haul. Real life afforded us this amazing experience but now all I want to do is turn my back on responsibilities, on bills, on work, on real life... I just want to stay here a moment longer. I just want to hear the sweet, vibrant voices yelling hello and waiving maniacly as I zip past on my moto. I want this to be real life please.

Life is so good...

We have decided to take the day off from sightseeing and crowds to enjoy the pool at the Blue Lime in Phnom Phen. So far we've had breakfast by the pool, coffee in a cabana, gone for a refreshing dip and listened to the monks chanting at the temple behind the hotel. This is a tough life...
We will be meeting up with Lindsey (friend of Vim's who lives in PP) tonight to head further south to Kampot. I think it will be a 2 or 3 hour ride but we are sharing a taxi so no bus! Woo hoo!  However, all we have to do at this moment is wait until it is socially acceptable to order a cocktail... make mine a double!

Road to No Where

Everytime we get on another bus or into the back of a tuk tuk for a journey over 20 minutes I find myself humming the Talking Heads song, Road to No Where. No matter what is blaring on the bus speakers or what I have thoughtfully selected to play on my iPod, Road to No Where is what I hear. Although today's 6 hour journey from Siem Reap to Phnom Phen might have been better as the Road Through No Where!

I am starting to enjoy the bus rides. It is the little glimpses of life through the bus windows that take the sting out of spending most of the day on the bus. Watching as children play together in their front yards or in the middle of the street, seeing dogs running across the fields and cows grazing in the midst of thatched roof huts and road side vendors. As the sun set on todays drive I was disappointed  to think that I would no longer be able to catch these glimpses. However, to my delight most of the huts were flickering an iridescent blue putting the evening routines of Cambodia families on display. It only took a few minutes to realise that my road side attractions were being lit up by televisions. How funny that they still cook there meals over open fires, bath on a concrete pump slab in the yard, farm for sustenance and yet they all have televisions. These are the glimpses that make it difficult for me to stop staring as we breeze by at 15 to 20 miles per hour on the bumpy, partially paved road. I know they see me staring and I know staring is rude but I can't stop so I smile and even wave... maybe that makes it better?

I have realised over the last few days that there are so many things that I want to write about from the last 2 weeks. However, despite my best efforts it is difficult to find the time and even more difficult to single finger peck away at the keyboard of my phone. I have started jotting down notes to help me remember everything when we are back home. The notes look a little something like this: thousands of naked babies, satellite dishes on wooden huts, pigs on a scooter, monks in the rain, Angor Wat kids and candy, school yards, little legs on giant bikes, crickets for dinner, bald Buddhist nuns... I think you get the point. Since touching down in Bangkok my brain has been on overdrive, trying to absorb as much as humanly possible and at the same time trying to put all of it into words that capture the details as precisely as possible. I don't want to forget a single moment on this road to no where via everywhere.