more polite shoes

“Do you have more polite shoes?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The flight is full and I can upgrade you to business class but you have put on more polite shoes.”

“Closed toe,” J offered.

I looked down at my feet in black Old Navy flip flops and felt kind of proud of their traveled look- tan, toenails a bit too long and haggled, a little dirt stuck to the sides. But I did get a pedicure in Thailand and I did wash them every night. The flip flops were still pretty clean- isn’t that polite? Then I thought of my other option- Asics, Duromax, lightly coated in rice field mud from our trek to a climbing spot, put away wet. They were covered in a towel to keep them away from the rest of my bag. But if they just wanted closed toes…

“Yes, I have polite shoes.”

Tore open my bag to retrieve them and a powerful smell hit me in the face. Ah, wet sneakers. The socks were caked in mud and shoved inside. I discretely slipped the socks back into my backpack and undid the shoes’ soaked laces. Wow, they stunk. After getting them on, I looked at J’s feet- too big muddy sandals, his smashed toes. Nothing had been asked of him.

“What about your shoes?”

He flashed me his bragging child grin and I just narrowed my eyes.

“I hate being a girl.”

“Good thing you are. I’m not into boys.”

“Wonderful. Then I hate the double standard.” I had been noticing a lot of that lately- being passed over for a male traveling partner in business transactions and conversation. It was maddening but luckly foreign.

My hands reeked from the polite muddy sneakers. I put my flip flops into my bag and hoped she didn’t notice the nastiness. We learned we couldn’t get our “special” veggie meals in Business class either but I was happy to skip it.

We boarded the plane on final call- my shirt is a little dirty and on its 3rd wearing, frayed bra strap flapping on my shoulder. J’s shirt is wet in the front from washing out a stain in an airport sink. I gave up on my hair about day 2 of the trip and had just crammed a hat on my head this morning. My legs are peeling from a burn and there are zits on my chin from endless sweating. J’s beard is at stage itch; he’s proudly holding a beat up guitar in his hand. A farang (foreigner) woman watched us come through the special first/ business class door with surprise and disgust. J started a pillow fight when we sat down and we debated whether to order champagne or French red wine (or both!). I can smell myself in this shirt… or maybe that’s my polite shoes We’re a little out of place.


("hum... red wine or champagne?" "excuse me, stewardess...")

Looking closer though, I can see that we’re not the only pieces lacking perfection. The cup tray is dirty and my arm rest is cracked. The fold-out tray table sags in the middle and the buttons for the TV have been worn completely through. It’s an older plane and except for the extra room, sweet service and alcohol choices in real glasses, this class is a mental thing, a head trip. We’ve taken a host of photos trying to show our snooty side, but we know we don’t fit in here. Yes, we come across as a little rude.



But looking down at my endless leg room, I’m happy to see that at least my shoes are polite.

slow boat to Laos

On a slow boat to interior Laos. It's our second and last day on this wooden ship- it's raining and there's mist and fog on the mountain trees. I am by the front door, both a good and bad spot. It's in the hustle-bustle pulse center- people crowded around to take photos, staff climbing in from around the side to fix fly away rain flaps. I am on a pile of muddy shoes, my rear guarded by a "sweet love bear pillow", a pad bought on shore to comfort travelers. But to compensate for the mud and bustle, I am only two feet above the thick water, completely immersed in the scene. The raindrops are hitting in rapid sequines on the river blanket. There are so many hidden currents, swirling under the surface, creating whirlpools and water fault lines.

The scene along the sides of the river, if viewed in still lighting, never really changes- hills covered in lush forest of alternating dark and light greens, displaying shale-like black rock for coastline and occasional tan/grey sandbank, the whole thing dotted with villages and illegally deforested patches, burned, sad. But with a shifting of the sun, the picture changes- trees take on a bluish tint, become part of a cloud, then clear again, glowing orange, becoming ominous at night. The rocks look more severe, then softer with sunset light, almost inviting you to nap there.

It's like our moods sometimes, I think- ever present and steady is our inner being- lovely lush and lively. Then the light shifts and the scene changes, highlighting some features and masking others. Blue, green, orange- we radiate to the light. Even our quiet radiates. Does it change our world to know this? To know that under the sun and mist, we are always that forest standing, that shoreline of shale? Do the night and day then become less significant, not inflicting change but only the view?

I wonder, sometimes, if this is at the heart of things...

guest author- slingshot

And now I have a slingshot...

This would have likely helped me to scare off a killer monkey on routeup the 1,237 steps to a mountain top temple housing a huge golden Buddha sitting calmly in lotus position. However, there was no calm when, as the steepest section of the climb appeared, so appeared the renegade monkey, likely trained as an assassin, with teeth barred & ominously approaching. Staunch with confidence and poised to destroy us, he hissed & made his most "evilest" face possible while intermittently posturing each step that he took forward in attempts to try to make us flinch - and it worked at first as we let out howls of..."holy! we are being attacked by a 2 foot tall killer halfway up this steep mountain with no one else in sight" - not even a banana to hold him off!

And so, with no sling shot readily available to pull out of my utility belt and fire around to scare him off and save the day, I had to rely on my other skills- mostly that of being loud and moving my arms & legs in crazy ways to get attention. So I began. I took a deep breath to center myself, held my body upright, and began yelling out deep monkey sounds myself, brandshing my arms & legs in a way that could only be considered jive Kung Fu. All in attempts to meet the challenge of the killer monkey and counter his insidious plan to destroy us. He saw all of this and appeared completely baffled for a few moments before stepping up and performing some jive Kung Fu of his own. I parried with more. He responded. I countered. He replied,"touche" in his monkey language & finally came at me with all that he had - a finale of sorts. I felt humbled, but regrouped & unleashed the loudest, most ridiculous exhibition of jive Kung Fu that the world has ever seen. And with this, and only with all of this, he bowed hishead in retreat and scurried backwards into the trees & jungle sanctuary a defeated primate.

In the end, I believe it was a move I like to call the "noodle kick" that saved the day and freed us from imminent jungle destruction at the hands of this renegade assassin. Little was known before taking this journey up to the mountain top temple that it would entail a passport into insanity.

AND MY PASSPORT?

It just arrived from a one week vacation from my possession, subtly left behind in Southern Thailand beach town (Ao Nang) with host of our guesthouse bungalow- it was exchanged as collateral for a few days use of baby blue 100cc motorbike. Upon returning it, our host was not there & the day or so in between cast the passport's absence insignificant- and how could it not?!!

Zooming all around a peninsula jutting into the Gulf of Aden with random fruit stands, golden Buddhist temples pervasively dotting the landscape, and roadsigns completely written in beautiful Thai script-more an expression of art than a human collection of letters placed together for the simple task of forming words.

And so, with these beautiful scribbles on every sign we sped along not truly knowing where we were going but into an undiscovered piece of earth on this planet containing new vistas & visions of a world alwaysworth exploring. So as I lay in this hammock, now in Northern Thailand, swaying to the beat of the wind, surrounded by huge green bamboo extending 30 feet into the sky, and stretching out a newslingshot that was given to me by our friends in Chang Mai (N.Thailand) yesterday, I can't help but feel that this is truly that state in which I feel most at home- like I was just shot out of a slingshot. So slungshot up to Pai (small artist-type community in N.Thailand close to Laos boarder) after bouncing around the beaches and islands of Southern Thailand, including HUGE Full Moon party on an island inthe Gulf of Thailand (10,000 people dancing and celebrating life all up & down the beach to shake-your-body music until dawn) and a couple of stops in Bangkok's perpetual neon-light insanity; I am elated to have gotten my passport back (yesterday mailed to me in Chang Mai), a new slingshot (drenched in metaphors) and preparing to zoom up into Laos & board a 2 day slow boat on the Mekong River to take us to the interior of the country. First, however, we will board our motorbike & thoroughly explore Pai (pie), go to the surrounding mineral hotsprings, get an hour-long $5 dollar message, rock out to some live music tonight & MAYBE make it back to our $12 dollar/night huge,beautiful bungalow before the sky turns from starlight to crystal blue.

With ambitions also to play guitar on stage again like 2 nights ago in Chang Mai bar with dancing friends all around, rock climb some more challenging routes like on the beaches of S. Thailand, go surfing the perfect breaks in Indonesia in a few weeks, and hopefully not have to defend my life from ferocious jungle beasts intent on my utter destruction- although that could be brilliant as well; after all I do have a brand new slingshot (drenched in metaphors) to add to my utility belt now...

Yaaaaahooooooooo!!!

~Jefferson

some favorite photos so far

A warm up climb at Railey Beach

Our reward after hard work- one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen

A holy monkey
First motorbike adventure

Library in our current guesthouse in Pai, Thailand

addiction

I have this awfully powerful addiction. The kind that completely controls you when a craving hits. At home, it's unnoticeable because you can find it everywhere. The good stuff, you know? And everyone enjoys it. But when traveling, the addiction unvails itself and creates for some strang situations and sensations. It can get you in to trouble sometimes.

You know what I'm talking about: Mexican food.

It hit today in Ko Tao, suddenly, on the beach. I couldn't stop thinking of corn chips and cheese. Salsa even crossed my mind a few times. I think it was from spotting the words in a travel guide that morning. Brought it up to J and he joined in the cravings. We had to find some. Walked over a mile to town, checking every possible menu on the way and after a thorough search, returned to the only restaurant really offering anything labled Mexican food. Emphasize the word labled.

I don't know why, but of all cuisines in the world, Mexican is the hardest to get right. In Hawaii, the huevos rancheros were covered in pizza sauce. In Bali, I cannot even describe the flavors a British man invented for his "tacos"- mostly because they were awful. It's always a gamble, but I never understand why. Tomatoes. Onions. Garlic. Cilantro if you can find it. And if you don't have jalapenos, just something spicy. That's it. It's simple.

But this menu looked promising. The veggie tacos boasted sour cream, salsa and cheese in crispy corn shells. Yes! That's the language. They were expensive- about $6. Considering most meals are about $1, this was outrageous. But addictions are controlling and the risk had to be taken.

No. No, it was not Mexican food. The shells were corn and they were nice. There was a small pinch of cheese. But the filling- are you ready for this? Was made of apples, tomatoes and onions soak in balsalmic vinegar. In balsamic vinegar. The sour cream was a mystery- maybe creme fraiche? And the salsa was, like in Bali, indescribable. Except for "gross", maybe. The flavors, by themselves, *might* have worked, but the whole package was frightening and sent me back to the guesthouse to lay down for a spell. Me and my now empty pocketbook.

Mexican food outside its origin and the South simply does not exist. I have learned this lesson 100 times. Why does it not stick? Ah, the power of addiction.

behind

The difficulty of keeping a travel blog is feeling forever behind in writing it. It's a tough balance between communicating and experiencing I think. So this is an empty entry; just a brief list of experiences thus far:

1) rock climbing on the famous Railay beach and leaving with beautifully bruised and cut knees. Healing them in the ocean while swimming under huge, multi-colored limestone cave outcroppings.

2) nearly being attacked by a relatively small monkey, making a combination hiss, growl screaming noise with my hands like claws by my face. J taking over and literally pulling out karate moves (not touching the monkey). And the monkey retreating.

3) climbing 1237 steps to a temple, which honestly doesn't sound like much. Except some where as tall as my lower leg, it was over 90 degrees and 80 percent humidity. And thinking I'd do it again today just to see the view one more time.

4) streets of Bangkok.

5) a daring game of 31 whereas the lowest hand has to do whatever the highest hand demands. There was underwear burned from the tops of trees, and midnight baptisms in the ocean. J was knighted by a Brit and I reinacted Neandertal surfing with a Frenchman. Brilliant.

6) learning that the beer I drank during most of my last visit is preserved with phramadahyde (or however that's spelled).

7) (willing) sleeping in a bungalow with a large spider in the toilet and a nice body coverage of little black ants in the morning. It has a great porch with lots of sun!

Was going to do 10 but I am itching to get ready for tonight and whatever happens in its folds. The forever balance of where your feet are now, and what waits around the bend!