Bangkok

Its hard to imagine, driving through the industrial-ravaged suburbs of Bangkok, that beyond the smog, a templed, foliaged, oceaned haven lies, whose gravitational pull leaves no hippy unamazed, no package tourist unjaded, hiding amongst colorful flowers and bright, unassuming, unexpecting smiles. After three weeks in Nepal, my paper white skin and shrinking patience aches for sunny beaches in the middle of BFE (Ironic, since I just escaped Everest territory). Yet again I willingly plunge into a world of strangeness, strange food (well, not so strange, thai cuisine is a fav of mine), strange language (still trying to call my thai brothers and sisters bai and didi), and strange people (hell, people are strange when you're a stranger, n'est-ce pas Jimmy?) Life circles around the streets in Bangkok (and I suspect the rest of SE Asia), so I took a seat at a noodle shop stand and watched the world go by over my steaming bowl, steam indiscernible from the haze of the rain and nearly visual shimmer of humidity. It's still far too early (this is my second day) to document a completed SE Asia version of "Random Observations", but I am fast becoming a connoisseur of transportation on my travels. Taxis are a startling barbie pink and flatbeds half the size of cars, when not hawking damn-near-everything, are mounted under the handles of a motorbike with young children riding on the wood in front of mom who directs the contraption through traffic. I am reminded of convincing my own mother to let me ride in the main basket of the shopping cart, that is, if mom was weaving me, the eggs, toilet paper and detergent through the aisles on a Harley. With the possibility of ordering buckets (whats next, troughs??) of alcohol and raving all night at full moon parties, I am searching, perhaps in vain, for some peace and quiet. Let you know if I find any.