Sawasdee from Bangkok!

I have arrived, which means I have officially embarked upon this adventure. After the longest flight ever – no, really, the *longest* flight – I got into Bangkok at 1 a.m. local time last night. It’s now 4 p.m. and I’ve just finished a fabulous bowl of Tom Yum Gai, and am sweating away in an internet cafe off the Khao San Road.

I’m sure you’re all hoping for erudite descriptions, but my head’s still too chaotic to put such a thing to paper, so to speak. I’ll be here for at least a week, maybe two, before I head off to Laos, and I’m sure in a few days my mind will have settled a bit. A few first impressions:

To try to explain what is different here is fruitless. Everything is different. Even the traffic sounds different. The people are lovely, and their language is music. The food is, as expected, out of this world. The streets are narrow and crowded and chaotic alternated with wide and crowded and chaotic. You go from concrete jungle to golden palace in five feet. Remember how I said I was going in search of culture shock? I feel sure I’ll find it here.

Take care of yourselves and each other. More soon, promise.

A La Prochain

Not trying to be pretentions with the French subject header – just seemed the most appropriate thing to say – until the next. I was going to write about the Peter Gabriel show (which was amazing). I was going to write a lot of things. Some of them would probably have been passable, most probably trite or otherwise inappropriate. But really, friends, this [92.9 MB mp3] says it for me. I’ll miss you. I’ll write. Promise.

See you next year.

The Farewell Bash

Last Saturday (the 9th) was my bon voyage fête, and as you can see by the photos at right it was neither serious nor sober, unless you count seriouly unsober as serious. Anyway, the festivities took place at the Gramercy (many, many thanks to Brad, Colin and Sandy for making it happen). If you haven’t been yet, I recommend it highly – this despite the fact that it’s in the old Lounge Ax space, for which reason I was initially sworn to hate it. It’s beautiful and comfy and the food is great.

One thing about the Gramercy is that, despite the very danceable grooves, nobody moves. They stand around and stare at each other while trying to look cooler than whoever they’re standing next to. Except for me and Eric. We reckon if there’s space and music, why not get a groove on? The wedding party who were hovering like vultures, coveting our table, were not impressed.

The highlight of the evening (aside from me dancing in 4″ spike heels) was the going away flower from Jeannine and Dave – a 3′ tall orange silk rose. No, I’m not taking it with me. No, it was not a particularly practical gift. But it was goofy and it was fun, and my backpack is too full of useful stuff to fit anything else.

Anyway, to all those who couldn’t make it for reasons of illness or prior engagements, you were missed. To those who said they’d be there and didn’t show, well, I never liked you anyway. To those who were in attendance, thank you, I’ll miss you. I love you.

Party time!

It’s been another fun-packed weekend – one more Halloween party on Saturday (thanks, Robin!), followed by Eric’s birthday on Sunday. I’ll post the birthday party pics tomorrow, but enjoy the Halloween shots now. A rundown of the costumes:

Groundskeeper Willie…………… Eric
Professor Frink…………………… Stephen
Commander Data……………….. Coz
Margo Tennenbaum…………….. Corrie
That Tacky Club Couple………… Jeannine and Dave
The White Trash Cosmetologist.. Me

Yea verily, we were a sight to behold.

Things I’ll Miss

Today’s photo post is the first in a series – people, places and things I’ll miss while I’m gone. Although there are people in Chicago whom I consider friends that I sometimes don’t see for a year at a time, somehow this upcoming seven months seems very long indeed. I vacillate between elated excitement and fear – not so much that I’ll get blown up or arrested or something like that, more that I’ll be lonely and unable to extract the meaning from this jouney that I had hoped to.

Leaving’s like that.

New pictures!

Earlier this month, I spent a week in Marco Island, FL (15 miles south of Naples, just off the SW coast of Florida) visiting a friend who moved down there in the spring. After I’d been there for a few days looking around, we rented a boat and had a lovely day of wildlife-spotting. Unfortunately, the pictures of the bald eagle, manatee and dolphin didn’t come out, but at least I got to see them, and these shots should give some idea of the natural beauty of the place.

But the natural beauty is not all there is to the island. Oh gracious no. True, Marco Island is an idyllic tropical paradise, but there’s a dark and seedy underbelly. See, once you’ve been to the beach and out on the boat a few times (we’re assuming you live there, and aren’t just visiting – as far as I’m concerned, a week of beaches and boats and bars and beers was just what the doctor ordered), you begin to notice that there’s not much else to do – except drink, which is what most people wind up doing most of the time they’re there. Most of the people on the island are tourists, and most of the tourists are retirees, which doesn’t make for a stimulating atmosphere – unless, of course, you’re a retiree too.

Which I am not.

Although I spent most of my time very pleasantly, and made friends with a few locals who work in the bars and restaurants (as does the friend whom I went to visit), by the time the week was up, I was ready to come home.

One of the strangest things about the Island, which is to say the most unexpected, was the food. I expected, coming to a resort town on the Gulf of Mexico, to be eating a lot of fresh, delicious seafood. Gulf shrimp, yum! Oddly, I soon discovered that most of the seafood you get on the island is frozen. Besides which, shrimp and grouper are pretty much your only options (unless there’s a special on somewhere), and I’m told that often the grouper isn’t even grouper but something else entirely. Not that anyone notices this, because pretty much everything is deep fried and served in a basket. Around the third day, I figured I’d try to circumvent the fast-track to cardiac arrest and try the salad bar. I found iceberg lettuce, a few washed-out looking tomatoes, and a huge assortment of mayonnaise-based ‘salads’: potato salad, tuna salad, chicken salad, even some kind of 3-bean salad swimming in mayonnaise, the likes of which I had never before seen. The dressings were thick and gloppy, every one. Sighing, I doused my lettuce and tomato in a little lo-cal ranch and returned to the table. I think I wound up having deep fried snapper in a basket later on.

Up and at ’em!

Well, folks, we’re back. Sort of. Since nobody (ahem) actually coughed up a design for this thing, it’s going to be moving around a lot (and probably pretty messy) for the next week or so as I get things organized. But in the meantime, let it be known that I am indeed still leaving to travel, and that my departure date is irrevocably fixed for November 14, 2002 at 7:00 a.m.