That's what Papa Saier said to me as we parted ways with a brief man-hug and some hearty pats on the back at the airport in Gainesville. Best advice he ever gave me. Welcome to my Sklog. Feels a little silly caving in to the obsessive phenomenon that is blogging, but at several people’s insistence, I’m giving it a shot. I have to admit, though, it is a little therapeutic getting some thoughts down after the overwhelming experience of the last coupla days, what with the thirty-odd hours in four different planes over 12 different time-zones, an onslaught of bloody marys and old-fashioneds, sleeping in strange airports, mother-fucking customs, discovering new smells and stenches, having my innards raped by spicy foods I thought I could handle, spraying my butt with a sink-hose (I know I’m fucking crude, and if you plan on reading anymore get used to it), never-ending jetlag with no marijuana, tuk-tuks (or, as I mistakenly referred to them my first day to Berm's amusement, hyuk-hyuks) and over-all, being the minority after 28 years of comfortable majority-ness, and a tall minority at that. I swear, I'm the tallest human being in this country.
I’ve been here in Chiang Mai, Thailand’s proclaimed intellectual and cultural capital, for a little over two days now, and needless to say I’ve barely scratched the surface. So, where to fucking begin, indeed. Some of these entries will be a couple of days dated, because although I’ve been writing since I left the States, I just now got my interweb up and running. So, enjoy these thoughts; I hope they entice you to come join me, and if you’ve been here already (Stu, Jody, Mike, whomever) feel free to add your insight or interpret/correct my observations. Oh, and pics are soon to come, as soon as I figure it out, so for now just use those imaginations.
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