All about my navel

In response to some feedback I've gotten lately (thanks, by the way) I've decided to include some more subjective posts. Be careful what you wish for. So what follows are a couple of observations that have nothing, really, to do with one another. If you're just interested in travelogue, this isn't the post for you.

John Hancock Would be Very Popular

In Vietnam, every time I signed my name, without fail, the person receiving the sales slip or hotel registry would smile broadly, sometimes giggle, and usually compliment me on the beauty of my signature. They would often show it to a colleague. The first time this happened I thought they were being facetious, and the second time I thought there was some kind of joke going on that I didn't get. By the third time I entertained the possibility that they were sincere, and the fourth time, I was ready for it. But only in that way that if, for three mornings in a row, you were greeted at the front door of your job by a harlequin clown who wordlessly presented you with a paper clip and then left, on the fourth day, you'd be ready for that paper clip, and might even accept it with anticipation. But I don't get it, and I doubt I ever will. I questioned several people about this phenomenon, determined to get to the bottom of it, and they seemed coy about providing detail. "It's just very... unique" was about as much as I got.

At least two that I can recall asked me if I was an artist. I would post a copy of my signature for you to see how unremarkable it is, but it occurs that posting one's signature on the internet seems an Incredibly Bad Idea. It's a little "loopy", and I don't think my surname is particularly legible, but it's completely unremarkable.

To the Thais, my signature is sadly ordinary.

Have a Nice Day

One thing that really brings joy to my heart is the universal power of the smile. Even here in Thailand, you do run into someone every so often with whom you can't communicate. In almost every one of these situations, it helps tremendously if you just smile. That's obvious, of course, but it works so much better than you'd think. It's stunning how powerful it is at ameliorating conflict and smoothing human relations. They have no idea who you are or what you want, but they are predisposed to help you if you smile and shrug. This is so, so heartwarming to me. Sometimes I've found a situation improve radically through my patented smile technology, and I can't believe that there is conflict in the middle east. Do those people never smile?

Come Here Often?

So, I was on the fence about coming back to Thailand, but the delay in my Indian visa forced the issue for me, and I've been very glad for the time I've spent here the second time around. The biggest reason was just that it was familiar. Aside from Amy, everything has been new, new, new for going on two months solid, so it was relaxing to walk down a street in Bangkok and think, that restaurant kinda sucked, but the one two blocks over was awesome. I'm sitting right now in my favorite Internet cafe in Chiang Mai, which I only found halfway through my stay here last time. Newness is part of the point of travel, but it can be exhausting (at least for me). When even the place you're sleeping is different than the one the day before, you start looking at your shaving kit for something you recognize.

I might even plan to do this in the future: go back to Delhi once I've been there, just to feel a little sense of familiarity again.

Old man, New Tricks

I feel very old these days. Part of the reason is that a lot of the backpacker culture that I'm trafficking in is geared towards twenty-five year olds. When something reminds me of this, it makes me feel regret for not traveling when I was younger, but almost instantly the feeling evaporates when I remember that I'm here now and having even more fun than I thought I would. And that I'm doing the same things and having the same experience, except that I'm a little better equipped for it.

This was especially acute in Cambodia, where I read that the life expectancy of a male in Cambodia is only 51, and there were very few old people. That puts me well past middle age, something I wasn't ready for. I've always been keenly aware of the fact that in our "natural state" as stone age hunter-gatherers, 35 is indeed an old man; I should be a grandfather by now. This body was designed to pass on its genes with maximum efficiency on a savannah, and that plan didn't include centarianism.

But then I remember Garth Pauley was fond of quoting a study that said the common denominator amongst the world's longest-lived people was their ability to deal with new situations, their facility for adapting to change. I'm swimming in a sea of it, and the above comments on familiarity nothwithstanding, the water seems fine.

Cogito Ergo Bloggo*

I spend a fair amount of my time here working on this thing. Aside from wanting to keep family and friends updated on what I'm doing and where I am, it serves as a record for myself. When I was 18, Mike Hamilton and I toured Europe for a month. While I have a lot of good memories of that trip, I know I used to have access to much more detail. Mike and I still share jokes about that journey, but I want more of the substance of this experience to be with me in twenty or thirty years, or more. I'd like to know what that crazy young man was thinking. It's also a good way to make sense of the experience. It's fine to see things and experience them for what they are, but writing about them gives me a focal point, a motive to seek out extra detail.

And Rafting

I went whitewater rafting in Chiang Mai yesterday. Wow was that fun. I regret that I have no photographs to share, but of course it's an activity that doesn't lend itself to the camera as much. My shoulder's a little sore today from paddling. It was nothing too intense (class IV and V for those of you to whom this means something) but I can't remember this much fun. I met a wonderful young Dutch couple who invited me to join their boat, and we had a blast together. I giggled like a little girl at times as we tumbled over the rocks, walls of water surging into our tiny rubber boat. When the water was still, the Mae Ping river was typical Thailand gorgeousness: steep twisty little valleys covered in teak, strangler fig, bamboo and longhan trees- green and lush. At the end, I immediately wanted to get in the van and ride back to the top of the mountain for another run.

My visa for India is finally ready. I can't begin to describe how excited I am for this next part!


*with apologies to the blog of Philosophy Talk, the second greatest radio show ever.