Development: A Demi God

A monk’s living quarters

Wanting more seems to be a human condition. Especially below a certain standard of living. Clearly we could all stand to learn something from wise, old sages (are there young sages?) who live a simple life in basic conditions. Perhaps those few enlightened individuals cause us to romanticize basic conditions, even when they’re experienced by those whose goals are more common – making a living, providing for a family, getting an education.

I don’t begrudge anyone the benefits of development. I understand why,

Farang in a Foreign Land: Dyed Baby Chickens and Lotus Pods

If I was an executive from New York on a Vocation Vacation, this blog entry could read as a major drama.

What I feel like after a particularly trying stretch of travel. (This picture was actually taken just after sunrise on a wilderness backpacking trip with striking similarities to traveling... living out of a bag, sleeping almost anywhere, eating strange food, lowering cleanliness standards...)

It’s tempting to write it like that — it would be more fun for you to read while surrounded by the comfort of “western” conveniences. But the truth is, for “third world” travel to be fun, you just have to take things in stride. This is one of the lessons of travel I value most and that I hope to carry with me into the future.   To nearly quote Liz Gilbert, traveling – particularly cheap and dirty traveling – is pretty much nothing but one glitch and hassle after another, interrupted by the occasional stunning sunset, gorgeous temple, or fantastic meal.

Building the Dream: A House Made of Dirt

My first introduction to the concept of building with unprocessed materials was in the miserly Mr. Grahms 4th grade class at Meadowlark Elementary. All Campbell County 4th graders study Wyoming history. The Great Plains of the U.S. were a tough place before infrastructure. It pleased me to pieces to know many pioneer families lived in dugout homes — as in: a hole dug into a hillside with a sod roof. No, I wasn’t gloating about their rough luck: I was inspired! “If all it takes to build a house is a shovel, I could build my own house! Right now!” thought my 10-year-old brain.

This appealed to juvenile Jema way more than any fort!

The Hog: A Harley By Any Other Name Would Be A Moped

At the risk of offending, let’s imagine there is an organization of Little People. Actually, I’m sure that part is true. What we’re imagining is that they’ve built an entire city specifically to accommodate Little People. And you’ve been transferred there as a [your profession] for a few months.

Imagine the doorway to the home you’re going to rent being just a bit too low. Envision the way your knees will be higher than your belly button when you sit on the toilet. Realize that many chairs you try to sit in won’t be wide enough for your hips. Recognize that the shower head won’t be mounted high enough for you to stand underneath it. Practice keeping your elbows tucked into your body, lest they hit someone in the face.

Happy Birthday to Pat!

Regular readers of this blog might notice that not too many entries ago   I wrote about  my birthday.   Now, so soon, it is Pat’s turn.

The amazing place Pat took me for my birthday last year - Roy's Peak. After sleeping in, of course. And eating a fancy breakfast.

That our birthdays fall three days apart has been the source of much tension in the past. I am not shy about admitting that I want a “princess” birthday. You can imagine just how crestfallen I was when, on my first ‘special day’ within the context of our relationship, Pat came home, dropped his stuff on the couch and said, “So, what do you want to do tonight?”

Kicked Back in Kanchanaburi: Why Thailand is Cheap and How to Enjoy It

Want to cool your heels on the edge of an unspoiled tropical river? Consume limitless quantities of delicious food and drink? Be surrounded by the beauty of temples and a culture of cleanliness? Veg out all day on free wi-fi? Sun yourself in a hammock on a palm-tree studded green lawn? Cruise around town on your rented scooter?

The view from our porch - Kanchanaburi

What price do you suppose this laid-back list of luxuries fetches in Thailand? $50? $75? No, my friends. Depending on your tastes, in Kanchanaburi all this is yours for between $10 and $20. If you’re feeling especially extravagant, you can drop another $10 to get a massage or get rip-roaring drunk.

The joys of Thailand. Not only is it gorgeous, friendly, delicious, and clean… it’s unbelievably cheap.

Hello, Thailand!: A Modern, Sweet-Smelling Reprieve!

Bliss overwhelmed my senses as we passed through our first sights, smells, and sounds of Thailand.

A little geography lesson, if you please

The last time I set foot in this country, I was arriving from home. I’d left behind tidy lawns, anti-littering campaigns, wide streets, even sidewalks, familiar favorite foods, and birds chirping in the relative silence of a small town behind the Redwood Curtain.

Now, it’s been nearly two years since I’ve had a home, a third of year since my fleeting visit to U.S. soil, and the last eight weeks of my life were spent in the Philippines   – a lovely country with plenty of blog-worthy quirks.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I’ve decided I’m going to welcome the big 3-0 with fanfare. I plan to throw the second biggest friend-reunion of my life (hopefully the first will be my Wyoming wedding). Should we do Vegas because it’s fun and people could get there cheaply?   An enormous cabin in the woods near Portland where many of my friends are based because that’s more “me”?   For sure, amigos mios, mark your calendars.

I decided I wanted a re-do of my 29th about six days before it arrived. It dawned on me, during the many hours spent resting the ripped ligaments in my ankle that this year’s festivities would never mushroom to grand proportions.

Observed: Attempted Vehicular Manslaughter and Hand Washing with Bleach

 The final chapter!   More quirks and quips that don’t quite make a story…

  • To the untrained eye, it would appear that “tricycle” drivers are constantly trying to run me over. Really, this is their bizarre way of trying to get some business. They steer slowly closer and closer as they putt toward me, until I physically have to step aside so as not to get hit (at which time they usually roll to a stop). All of this is in hope that I will suddenly go, “Oh! Hey! A tricycle! You know, I didn’t realize this before, but I really want a ride. Excuse me, sir. Could you give me a ride, please? Oh, and actually I prefer to be overcharged, if you wouldn’t mind.”