23 Random Thoughts About Travelling, Which Could Actually Just Be Called "23 Random Thoughts Concerning Life In General", But Who Wants To Read About Life in General?

1. Witnessing a gecko crawl out of one's cluster of grapes really isn't as disturbing as it sounds.

2. The affordability of a full-body massage is still not enough to entice me to endure one.

3. A mall is a mall, is a mall. If you've seen one, then you've seen them all.

4. Sweating non-stop leads to dehydration

4b. When eating hard boiled eggs and pineapple for breakfast, always eat the hard boiled eggs first. Always.

4c. In Thailand, the Westerns genre on Netflix has absolutely nothing to do with John Wayne, Colt pistols, or Indians (sorry, Native Americans; my political correctness is wearing off)! The selection consists of Mean Girls 2, The Notebook, and the Mission Impossible series.

4d. In Thailand, if you're looking for someone, just check to see if their shoes are on the porch.

5. Kids are kids, teenage girls are teenage girls, and men are men, but never, ever underestimate little old ladies. Just when you think you've got them figured out, they'll switch it up on you.

6. The resolve one has to never eat anything with more than four legs or that lives underneath a tree stump is actually a force more powerful than gravity, and increases as the proximity between said comestibles and said resolved individual decreases.

6b. Peanut Butter is a glorious thing! Especially when you can't find a jar of it anywhere, unless you fancy Jiffy at $12 a pop, FULLY hydrogenated canola oil included.

7. Lines for the ladies restroom are a constant and universal phenomenon. I wonder if men ever experience that Frodo-at-the-end-of-Lord-of-the-Rings-type elation of having come through something truly epic as they wash their hands and go on with whatever is left of their day? Somehow, I doubt it.

8. No nation of individuals is any friendlier or happier than any other nation of individuals. I don't care what anyone says.

9. A cockroach half the size of my fist is more revolting than, well, almost anything. Especially when it's in your kitchen sink, and you can't drown it by tossing spoonfuls of water at it from a distance, because there is no way you are getting any closer to that thing, because you have no idea whether that thing can fly or how far it can jump, but you have the sneaking suspicion that it's far, because how did it get up there in the first place? In an effort to control my hysteria, I even attempted to recall the endearing relationship Wall-E had with his cockroach, but then all that came to mind was how Wall-E's cockroach had survived post-apocalyptic conditions, not to mention being crushed countless times beneath his own wheels...and so now I am inside and I will not go back outside until that thing has written me an official letter notifying me of its exact departure date. And a formal apology would be nice, too. Delivered impersonally by a letter carrier. When it's daylight.

9b. I have done a lot of considering about mattresses of late, particularly in regards to the disconnect there exists where supply and demand are concerned. For instance: nations sporting populations with the greatest amount of natural insulation per capita demand and are therefore supplied with the softest mattresses; whereas nations whose population is in possession of the least amount of natural insulation don't seem to demand much of anything in terms of sleeping equipment. In Thailand, mattresses are basically elevated, slightly bouncier versions of the ground. I'm not complaining or anything, but unless one periodically rotates oneself, one finds that significant portions of oneself go numb.

9c. Sidewalks are wonderful things! You never really appreciate something until it completely disappears and you find yourself out in the middle of the road or in a ditch somewhere.

10. Bicycles are the healthiest form of air conditioning invented by man.

11. Realizing that there is a very good reason why the American version of Thai food tastes the way it  does (and, subsequently maintains its populatiry). There is also a reason why I will more than likely never eat either again. Sometimes, the real deal just isn't better.

12.  In America, I am poor. In Thailand, I'm just cheap. "What? Thirty baht for a dozen eggs, you've got to be kidding me!" (30 baht is a little less than a dollar and, yes, I've actually had this reaction). How do I even afford to live in America?!?

13. I love fruit! Papayas, mangos, watermelon, tiny, crunchy pineapple things, three different kinds of bananas, rose apples, guavas, limes! The apples aren't the best, but I discovered today that it is possible to inhale a mango, and so who needs apples?

14. There are good things (endless supplies of fruit) and bad things (cockroaches, widespread poverty) everywhere. There is nothing wrong with noticing either, but to deny the existence of either is unjust, ignorant, and a personal disservice.

15. 7-Eleven. That's all I have to say really. I've seen almost as many of them as I've seen spirit houses. So if you like 7-eleven, I'd highly recommend Thailand, but don't expect to find any Red Bull! There simply aren't any. The Thais derive their energy from rice, stir fry vegetables, and various parts of a pig's anatomy not even it knew it had, and...that stuff...alone.

16. Taking my shoes off to enter a restaurant or store is not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be...no, I'm lying, it's totally uncomfortable. I mean, how many other bare feet have trod inside this place, where have they been, when's the last time they were washed? It's simply not kosher, man!

17. Seeing clouds in a foreign land is an extremely comforting thing. The birds sound different, the people sound different, even the side of the moon you're accustomed to seeing has its back to you. But clouds, when they do appear, are very welcoming. I saw my first cloud today!

18. Australians are loud. And this is coming from an unruly American.

19. Pizza is my comfort food. Yeah, yeah, I could list something healthy, but you'd all know I was lying. We're some natural disaster to occur that resulted in the annihilation all other food except for pizza, I would be perfectly content. I will eat it in a box, with a fox, whatever.

20. I manage to stress myself out in such clever ways, even I am impressed!

21. Playing Mario Karts as a kid has sufficiently prepared me for driving in Thailand. Everything I ever needed to know about survival, whether I am the operator or passenger, whether the mode of transportation be taxi, SUV, tuk-tuk, motorbike, bus, or bicycle (just so long as I am not a pedestrian) I learned from Mario Brothers. Except for the turtle shell things, it's pretty much the same thing.

22. The number of times a car horn is honked is directly proportional to the number of times you didn't almost die whilst operating a vehicle. I have witnessed and personally experienced the very real, and yet surprisingly underwhelming sensation of being taken out by a moving vehicle multiple times this trip, but nary a horn have I heard. I guess it just goes to demonstrate the Thai philosophy of "You drive like a maniac, I drive like a maniac, we all get home in one piece and nobody has to say a word about it."

23. The truth never changes. It is absolute, immutable, and universally applicable. It differs from deceit which, while it is always the opposite of truth, takes on a variety of sickly pallors, shapes, and sizes. The truth always looks the same and says the same thing, but lies are constant only in that they always contradict the truth. There are so many ways to contradict the truth, but only one way to be truthful. There are so many lies everywhere and we cannot know they are lies by studying them. We can only know what lies are by studying the truth.

Darkness

Stall after stall displaying silk, cashmere, and linen dyed in any color you like. Stall after stall of t-shirts reading "Chiang Rai" in a plethora of fonts, with or without scribblings of elephants and happy little Buddhas. Stall after stall of ceramic elephants, plush elephants, wooden elephants, elephant pillows, baggy Thai pants with elephants dancing across them. Stall after stall, interrupted here and there by carts cooking up smelly comestibles conjured up to attract the ceaseless flow of tourists. Stall after stall of items whose domestic origin was highly questionable. Cheap trappings guaranteed to attract lots of rich tourists looking for an 'authentic' experience they could take back home with them. An authentic market showcasing authentic items that represent an authentic Thai experience. Foreigners, the majority of whom were white westerners with deep pockets, abounded.

The air reeked of oyster sauce, raw sewage, diesel, and sweat. Every odor was weighed down by the humidity and heat. Any hope of a fresh breeze to come clear, even temporarily the atmosphere was crushed by the enclosed surroundings. The dirt encrusted buildings towering over the market were illuminated by lights strung from the rooftops. Only the dark brown light of the moon outshone the tiny lights suspended above my head. Thai music played by traditional instruments accosted my ears from every direction. A blind man sat mock-playing a two-stringed instrument as a radio played beside him. Pairs of middle-aged white men disinterestedly browsing the vendors with their much younger escorts, some of whom, in spite of their cosmetic attempts to conceal it, could have been no older than sixteen. Women known as "Toms" dressed as men accompanied by their counterparts--extremely feminine-looking women known as "Dees"; men known as lady-boys dressed as women, and boys dressed as women dressed as boys made up a significant portion of patrons of the Night Market. White backpackers sporting their signature unkempt hairstyles, sleeveless shirts, baggy fisherman's trousers, and overall disheveled aspects roamed the place like derelicts infest the streets at night back home. Massage parlors overflowed with torpid-looking tourists. Feet, legs, backs, and necks could all be sorted out for approximately $3 an hour! Facials, manicures, and even cosmetic surgery were just some of the singular features of this and most cities of Thailand.

Massage parlors, pizza restaurants run by American expatriates, tuk-tuk encampments, shops, shops, shops selling dirty, cheap goods to tourists. Beggars stationed themselves outside of 7-elevens, outside of the restaurants catering to richer customers, outside of the nicer massage parlors. Beggars dressed in rags, most of them young women with babies or toddlers attached by some sort of tattered and filthy blanket.

For hours I sat watching them. Money was passed, junk transferred from one person to another. Men and women wore their silly elephant trousers proudly. Groups of people rushed to the money changer adjacent to the Night Market's gates. Chinese, Americans, Germans, Japanese, Russians. Backpackers roamed in groups, looking hungry, trying to look local and failing. Beggars with forlorn, dirt-encrusted faces clocked out, gathered their meager belongings and went on their way, swiftly replacing their tears and plaintive whining with smiles and giggling. It was all just another day on the job. Everyone wandered about for no reason at all but to buy things that were not authentic. The only appeal that I could see that it was all cheap, but none of it was real. The people at the stalls were real patrons looking for a cheap and fake thrill.

The darkness of the sky was not as dark as that which lingered in this place. The din could not drown out the desperate plea for peace that raged inside me. We were supposed to be different, but they were off getting a massage, and they were off shopping with all the other tourists. I was left to fend for myself. What could I do? What could I do for these people or for myself? What could I do for God when all I wanted to do was escape. 

His Purpose...

...When I called, you answered me;

You made me bold and stouthearted.

This week, in fact, for a very long while, I have struggled desperately to unearth my purpose. And when I told myself that it was really 'God's purpose' that I was seeking, I really did mean my purpose. Using my strengths, my talents, my preferences for fulfillment, I endeavor end without success to find my place in this world. As I prepared to come here to Southeast Asia, I fretted and toiled over what it was I would be doing, what I could do with my meager experience and 'gifts'. On the plane(s) here, I literally plummeted into a pit of utter despondency and hopelessness. Nothing I did seemed to answer any of my questions about how or what or why. I read my Bible, prayed, made lists, sat and twiddled my thumbs, but to no avail. At least, that was what I thought.

As it turns out, I was asking the wrong question(s). Now, I wish to preface the following with what should be a well known fact: I am still learning and growing at such a pace that it seems very likely I will be doing both of these things for at least an eternity, maybe longer. That being said, I continue: my question contained the personal possessive, which is always temporary, conditional, and tentative at best. Asking what my purpose is is a question that can never be answered, because, 1) I am temporal, 2) I am limited in understanding, wisdom, power, and vision and 3) I am inconstant. Therefore anything that I am is not reliable, it is not eternal, it is not all-encompassing, and--most importantly--it is not possible. I did not create myself, let alone the universe or existence as a whole. Ergo, in order to determine 'my' purpose, I must turn my sights to the Author of life, of purpose, of all, and likewise must change my question: what is God's purpose? If I am in His will, then it should go without saying that I am a part of it. All of this came to me whilst in tears, after reading my Bible for hours, and after I haphazardly turned to Psalm 138. I am not a throw-my-Bible-open-close-my-eyes-and-slam-my-hand-down-on-the-first-verse-that-appears advocate, but I do believe that reading this verse at that particular time was somewhat miraculous and singularly affecting at the time.

I do not even have to ask 'What is God's purpose' any longer. God has already told me that He has a purpose, and even if He hadn't, who am I to demand such a thing from the Author of the universe? He has lovingly showed me His love, He has invited me into His family, He has shared with me who He is and what He desires. He has even told me that He has a purpose for all creation, which,  in point of fact, happens to include me. As my Lord and Savior, Creator and Redeemer, He ha demonstrated Himself to be all the things that I am not: 1) Infinite, 2) Limitless in understanding, wisdom, power, and vision, and, 3) Immutable. Not only that, but He is perfect and His plan is perfect. 

My purpose is to glorify Him by trusting Him, loving Him and my fellow humans, and by surrender get my pride and my fears to Him. It is not about me, although I must actively seek and obey, love and serve. I needn't ever ask the question, 'what is my purpose', because I am created and beloved of God, and God does not do anything without having a purpose. 

The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me;

Your love, O Lord, endures forever--

Do not abandon the works of your hands.

(Psalm 138)

Do I know what specifically I am supposed to be doing here? Well, I can do my best and I can trust God. I can serve others to the best of my ability, such that it is, and continue to seek God. I do not know what He wants physically, but ultimately He has made His plan clear:

God has now revealed to us his mysterious will regarding Christ, which is to fulfill his own good plan. And this is the plan: At the right time he will bring everything together under the authority of Christ-everything in heaven and on earth.

(Ephesians 1:9-10)

There's A Gecko On My Ceiling

I have now been in Thailand for a week and in Chiang Rai since Wednesday. I have ridden the requisite emotional roller-coaster of a hormonal 31-year-old Westerner who has found herself in The Land of Happy People, and can tentatively state that things are all right. I'm not sure what I'm doing, what God is doing, or what the majority of the people around me are doing (or saying), but after some cursory consideration I find that this is not altogether an unusual state of being for me. Just roll with it and all will be well.

The initial exposure to Bangkok's hustle and bustle (and pea soup-thick smog) prepared me to embrace whole-heartedly the much slower, much quieter, and much more breathable environs of northern Chiang Rai. Established in 1262 as Thailand's short-lived capital, Chiang Rai boasts a long history of conquests, rice and catfish cultivation, border disputes, and a rather fortuitous 1432 earthquake. In my week of temporary residence, I have found the area to be most pleasant, boasting endless birdwatching opportunities, affordable eateries (a full meal will cost anywhere from seventy-five cents to two dollars per person), meandering streets and walkways, and quaint vistas dotted with Brahman cows, colorful shrines, and watermelon stands. The Thai language remains elusive, but its sounds are less raucous and alien to me than they were a week ago. I entertain no delusions whatsoever in regards to the likelihood that I will ever successfully commit to memory all of Thai's 44 consonants and 28 vowel sounds! 

Anyway, Chiang Rai and, more specifically Home of the Open Heart has welcomed me generously and warmly. I have been presented with a list of responsibilities and potential opportunities to see what God will do. I have met many interesting people and hope to continue to get to know them, to hear their stories, and to share our mutual faith. I have a great deal of growing to do, much more, even than I had anticipated. I hope to remain receptive to God's teaching and to His love and faithfulness throughout my time here and, indeed for the rest of my life.

The Birds Sing Here, Too

I awoke to the foreign cries of unknown birds. I opened the glass door of my hotel room and looked out upon a neighborhood whose residents I had never met. The fragrance of flowers I had never smelled wafted upward with the warm breeze that blew. A woman wearing a straw sun hat passed by on the street below. Workers arrived in the back of a small and ancient-looking Toyota, chatted with one another as they unloaded, and then promptly resumed construction on a building that appeared to need the opposite sort of attention. A little girl of approximately twelve years stood on the edge of the incomplete, multi-storied building, deftly leaned over the side and received building supplies hoisted up via a makeshift pulley. People work here, birds sing here, life goes on here just as it does there. I cling to the safety of my room to the uncertainty of The Outside here just as I do there. Chia seeds form a gelatinous glob at the bottom of my Blender Bottle regardless of how vigorously or frequently I shake it here just as they do there. It can't be helped.

I believe that it is very natural for human beings so attached to home, family, and familiar, to initially seek out the familiar when they discover themselves in strange surroundings. Even the most daring and restless of wanderers cannot help but seek out, or at the very least, inherently compare what they know with what they do not. There are terms in every language that describe these feelings we humans experience: homesickness, dépaysement, sehnsucht, suadade, even culture shock can be the result of being overwhelmed by too many unfamiliar things all at once. I firmly believe, as an experiencer of this feeling of wanting to be elsewhere while simultaneously wanting to stay home, we humans thrive on familiarity, on being home. It is a sort of survival mechanism, I think. All creatures must adapt to their environments. Upon being introduced to anything new, our bodies, minds, and souls immediately scurry to find balance, homeostasis, normalcy, before once more into routine that we can rely upon. I am not sure, however, that meaningful familiarity or routine is either possible, beneficial, or authentic on this planet. What we eat, who we know, where and what we do for work, the sounds and sights that surround us are all temporal aspects of a life that means so much more. It's frosting on the cake, but frosting is not very nutritious.

My mind is swiftly fogging up again, so I'll end this entry with just this: I'm alive, I've eaten my breakfast, and now I'm arguing with myself over the possibility of venturing outside....

Tomorrow, I fly from Bangkok to Chiang Rai where I will be working, learning, and (hopefully) growing until the 8th of March.

This Is The Day!

“There's a race of men that don't fit in, 

A race that can't sit still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and rove the flood, 

And they climb the mountain's crest; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, 

And they don't know how to rest.” 

― Robert W. Service