These are all very random observations, no narrative is intended.

First, I don't see or hear many Americans here in in Chiang Mai. I see and hear lots of Northern Europeans, Czechs, Russians, Germans, Danes, Dutch, French and a handful of Italians. There are many Aussies however and a few Brits but very few Americans and this concerns me. I think Alex makes many good points in this post but sadly I think he is too optimistic. We will continue to be an insular, solipsistic society until we are forced to deal with the world on equal terms. People here, when they ask me, "where are you from?" Are always surprised when I answer, "America." For a nation that looms so large on the global stage this is worrisome, that people in such a touristy place as Chiang Mai have met so few Americans. And I take it on as an obligation to the best goodwill ambassador I can be. They may never meet another American. It's a pity.

More after the jump

It's interesting to see cars--rather small trucks--crammed with loudspeakers the way we used to have in the Fifties urging people to buy such and such or vote such and such a way. But I don't really know what they are saying as I can't understand a word of Thai, which is unfortunate. It's a tonal language that shares some commonalities with Indo-European languages in that there is a feminine form and masculine form for many words. Oy!

I actually got lost here on my moped. For only the third time in my life (once when I was a child at Fiesta in San Antonio, and once in downtown Seoul, South Korea at night) I got totally, utterly turned around and lost. Ladies, guess what? I stopped and asked for directions!

There was a ginormous rainshower the morning before last. The peak I look at out from my window was completely obscured by cloud and torrents of rain. And then, just as quickly as it materialized, it evaporated and left us with blue skies for miles.

Tomorrow, October 6th I turn 38 years old. I don't feel 38. Hell, I feel like I am 25 with what I hope is a bit more wisdom and patience than your average 25 year old. Crazy. 38 years old, no job, and my only possessions fit inside a 35 pound backpack.

From my journal: STOP thinking about the next place on the road. Think about this place. Here and now. There is nothing more important than this moment, the cool breeze, the slightly sticky, sweaty skin, two young girls on a bike, each breath slowly in and slowly out. . . the strange accents, the slight ache in my fingers from writing on paper with a pen, a mother and daughter holding hands, the music ringing in my ears, the blue sky, the couple sitting down for lunch in front of me.

"OBSERVE!" As a Zen master would say.

The putting of countless mopeds, a man squeezing sweat from a rag, a trishaw driver sleeping in the shade, the smell of exhaust, of incense, of Asia, the lingering taste of rice, tomatoes, eggs and chicken I had for lunch, the green plants everywhere, pigeons on electric wires, the muddy brown water in the moat, the jingle of keys and the clatter of dishes, be it all.

Breath deeply of this moment for it is the first, the last, the only one I'll ever have--there is nothing but the everlasting now.