Next Life in the Afternoon

I fixed the problem with the images on the site, as you can see, since now they are visible. That’s always the best situation - when things look and work the way they are supposed to. Now the trick is to get the writing done. I am currently editing the chapter on Udon Thani, at page 8 of 17. It is slow going but coming along. My original goal was to have it all done by the end of 2008 but now I am shooting for the end of this month.

Time to find someone in the publishing world to help me with the next steps.

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

I just moved this site to a new server because my old hosting company seemed to have more downtime than uptime and now my regular theme is broken. It’s a mystery to me because I am using the same theme on a different site with no problem. Anyway, I hope to have that fixed before too long. We will see how it goes.

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

Chiang Mai is a beautiful, filthy place. Everywhere you look you see lush greenery, and in the distance one direction are mountains and in the other are the long plains that stretch down toward Bangkok. The beauty is almost hidden, however, by a cloud of smog that blankets the city and settles on every surface and in every pore. Even among this filth is an opportunity for cleansing and redemption.

From the book:

Jet lag was still haunting me and I woke up to the darkness of my room, shades drawn tight against the outdoor fluorescent lamps. The air conditioner had cooled the room to what felt like almost freezing and had sufficiently cooled my sweat-soaked bedclothes. The air conditioners at Lai Thai Guesthouse have two settings - on and off. At night this meant the difference between a stuffy 85 degrees and a breeze cool enough to freeze your kidneys to the mattress. At least the AC units are efficient, if a little more powerful than necessary. It seemed like the large, industrial size unit you might use to cool a whole suite of offices.

I read the clock. 5:30 a.m. The traffic outside was evident and sounded above the din of the air conditioner. Chiang Mai is a city that knows no rest. All day and night cars, trucks and motorbikes make their loops around the city, feeding the air with smoke and smog, noise and vibration. The appeal of a tropical country, I decided, was not due to its city life. I longed for countryside. It was time to leave.

It was still hours before offices opened, so I could not simply stroll down the street and find a ticket to wherever lie ahead of me. I showered and dressed and left my room at that early hour for a convenience store near my hotel. I bought a couple bags of drinks and snacks, stuffed a couple bottles in my pocket for later and brought the rest to a Buddhist temple across the street.

There I met a monk who was busy sweeping leaves from the temple paths. The other, younger monks must have already gone on their morning alms rounds, as there were no others in sight - a strange thing that early in the day. I greeted him and offered my packages. He took them, set them aside and motioned for me to kneel. I obeyed, kneeling in the fresh-swept dirt, hands pressed together reverently. The monk said some words I recognized as a blessing in the Pali language. As I kneeled there, the monk touched my head and I could practically feel the dirt of the city - and of my life - lift from my being and blow away in the morning breeze. The cleansing of my spirit was more than I had bargained for; I just thought it would be a nice gesture to bring something to the monks.

Progress so far: Working backward through the chapters, currently editing chapter four.

(Holly Burns will be proud of me for using a semicolon in that last paragraph, despite claiming to dislike them previously.)

Technorati Tags: cleansing, redemption, traffic, Chiang Mai, Buddhist temple, monk, dirt

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

A friend of mine is a big hulk of a man, ex-soldier, ex-military police, currently a police officer in a nearby town. The man is a giant, big and strong as an ox, and one of the toughest-looking people I have known. However, one day when we were talking about traveling, he admitted to me that he was completely traumatized when the Army sent him overseas and he encountered his first squat toilet.

We both shared the same reaction - it seems like the most unnatural thing you can come into contact with. If you have never used one, count yourself among the blessed. It’s really not a big deal but if you are unprepared for this experience, it can be a bit shocking.

From my book:

Squat toilets really do take a little getting used to. For something as natural as squatting and shitting, most westerners find that squat toilets are quite uncomfortable because of what they are used to. We Americans, anyway, are used to sitting as long as we like, book in hand, or looking like Rodin’s Thinker, taking our time until our feet fall asleep and then slowly making our way out of the chamber. In the rest of the world shitting is a purely utilitarian affair rather than a pastime to be relished as if it were an opera or a fine wine. You go, you leave, you forget about it. Very quick. When you have to squat to make a movement, you will not tarry quite so long and may find it difficult to stay perched long enough to fully contemplate the existential feelings brought on by a madeleine or appreciate the craftsmanship of the latest issue of The New Yorker.

Have you ever had to use a squat toilet? Tell us about it!

Technorati Tags: travel, squat toilet, unnatural

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

I got to visit Khao Yai National Park while in Thailand. This was on a side trip from Prachin Buri, where I was staying at a monastery with Phramaha Nattapong. We got a local man to drive us an hour or so to the park, where we encountered quite a high waterfall and I got to witness the carefree attitude that must come from being a monk and being really closely in touch with one’s own mortality. Here is an excerpt from the book I am writing:

Phramaha Nattapong walked all the way to the edge of the waterfall, standing atop a boulder. It looked like the end of the earth, where he stood. It was so high that not even jungle was in the background of the picture.

“Carl, come take picture,” he said. I got close enough so that he was more than a speck in the small viewfinder and snapped a picture. I was about six feet from the edge, technically closer than I should be for safety purposes. The concept of edge discipline says that a person should not get closer to a dropoff than he is tall. I would not say that I have a fear of heights or even a fear of death but I certainly have no desire to experience either one up close.

“Come here. Stand here with me,” Phramaha Nattapong said.

“No, thanks. I’m fine here.”

“No, come here,” he insisted. “Beautiful view.”

“No, too high for me,” I said. He shrugged and enjoyed the view. Phra Bi edged out along a ridge over the drop. I chose to remain on firm, solid, dry ground where the only slipping I might do would land me in a river full of parasites and squalor, rather than in a morgue or simply left to scavenging animals out of simple convenience.

I later thought that this could have been an excellent Buddhist teaching Phramaha Nattapong was trying to impart on me. Becoming more aware of one’s own mortality and certain eventual demise is a very Buddhist undertaking. Monks and laypeople do this in different ways to show themselves that they are never far from death and that death is really part of a cycle of existence. Everything arises, exists and stops existing. Climbing on the boulder with Phramaha Nattapong pushed this point home a bit. Cessation and change are the only constants.

Word count so far: 54,690. I think that’s a good length and I am mostly working on editing at this point.

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

I have been working in a soul-sucking job that has done a lot to impede my writing progress, so it’s been a while since I sat down to the computer and did any work on it. As of this past Friday, I have been free on that problem so likely you will see more posts here more often.

While in Thailand I traveled to Prachin Buri and got wrangled into some impromptu teaching. Read on:

After the communal lunch, Phramaha Nattapong came to get me and took me to the school, where classes were in session and rows of uniformed children sat obediently, listening to their teachers and taking notes. We walked upstairs and approached one particular room. The teacher came out and I was introduced to her. We both made wais and greetings and I was invited to speak to the class. Phramaha Nattapong said, “You teach them now.”

“Teach them what?” I asked.

“Teach English. Talk to them. They like you.” Then both the teacher and my friend disappeared.

I was not prepared for what to say to the class, not having many words in common with them. I reviewed the English alphabet, which they already knew, and translated the few phrases I could think of - hello, goodbye, how are you, where is the train, you are very beautiful, and a few others I thought might be useful to them someday.

After about ten minutes of forced conversation, the teacher finally came back and thanked me for visiting the class. She then led the children in singing American songs, beginning with “Can’t Smile Without You.”

“Barry Manilow number one,” someone said after the song. How could I argue?

The singing continued as the children began to sing “Happy Birthday.” About the time the song ended the students began singing it again. The gesture of singing to me was very sweet and these children, all very cute, had made me feel welcome in a place where I was out of my element. However, I started wondering how long I could keep the smile on my face from sailing away on the winds and pictured myself having to bear hours of pre-pubescent kids singing in thick accents. It had its charm but not so much that I wanted to prolong the event.

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

A big myth about Thailand is that the food is all spicy. In fact, most dishes are served rather bland and spices are provided at the table so each diner can adjust the flavor according to his or her tastes. Sometimes, though, social pressure wins out and consuming too much spice is unavoidable. Here is an example of just such and instance, when I had lunch with my friends in Nakhon Ratchasima:

Phramaha Nattapong sat by himself and was brought a number of plates of food, as is the custom for feeding monks. Nut, Gak and I sat together and ate rice noodle soup. Nut took a spoonful of dried chili peppers and added it to his soup, smiling. Next Gak did the same thing. They smiled at each other and looked at me.

I am a big fan of spicy food and am not afraid to try something new that might be a bit on the hot side. At the same time, I am not the type of person to simply eat something for the sake of burning my palate. This was more than a matter of culinary preference, though. Everything hung in the balance – national pride, masculinity, ego – as I looked at the smiling faces before me.

I reached for the hot peppers and took an equal amount as the others did, adding it to my soup. They laughed with excitement, knowing the challenge was just beginning. We each took a mouthful of soup and swallowed it, the two of them watching me intently, waiting for this strange farang to completely lose his shit.

The soup burned me and I could no longer distinguish between temperature and spice. Each exacerbated the other. The overall heat was overpowering but I managed to swallow, thinking of the cooking process happening to my trachea and stomach from the steaming liquid as it blanched my gullet. I wanted to drink something cold but did not want to show myself as weak. I fought back the tears and recalled my karate practice from years earlier, which was at times much more painful than this, especially on the rare occasions that I missed a block and took a fist in the face. There were no tears then. Why start with all that now?

My comrades were duly impressed and slapped my back in an accepting way as we got down to the business of finishing the soup. I ended up having two bowls just to dilute the fire in my belly and try to wash the spice out of my mouth, innards, pores and eyeballs. The spice had become systemic in my body, possibly even my soul, and I was not sure if it felt good or not.

Technorati Tags: Thailand, spices, tastes, social pressure, Nakhon Ratchasima, chili peppers, spicy food, hot peppers, farang

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

Four years ago today – this very minute – I was on a plane to Thailand. Well, maybe to Chicago or Tokyo, to be more specific, but my journey was underway. I had been sure to get aisle seats on all legs of the trip. It’s bad enough being on a plane for 27 hours. I can’t imagine being stuck in a window or center seat with my giant Germanic frame.

February 1, 2004 was the day of the Super Bowl and as the in-cabin monitors showed our position over the long trail of Aleutian islands, the captain came on and announced that he had picked up a station from Honolulu that was broadcasting the game, if anyone was interested. I don’t really care about football but thought it was pretty amazing that radio signals first of all reached as high up as we were and second that they could be picked up from so far away.

At that same moment, my wife was in Boston watching the game on a big-screen TV with our friend Jody. I only learned this after the fact, of course, but found the connection to be a special one, learning that through the miracles of football, advertising and radio technology, we could be connected just a little bit, though thousands of miles apart.

I don’t know where I am going with this or where this journey I am on will take me, as I look backward four years, but here’s to enjoying the ride and loving the new adventure every day brings!

Technorati Tags: Thailand, journey, Super Bowl, Aleutian, Boston, football, adventure

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

“I have to go back to Thailand,” I remember Phramaha Nattapong saying once. “It like I am empty. My heart empty. I need to see my family and my country.”

“Like you have to recharge your batteries,” I said.

“Yes, like recharge battery. I think you understand.”

This is just what I have needed to do myself after a long time working in a day job and teaching at night, with very little time to work on this book. What I have rediscovered in the meantime is a writer I have enjoyed on and off for a year or so. In her blog Nothing But Bonfires Holly Burns writes in the most incredible way - amusing, humorous, deep, philosophical and is able to turn a story from a yarn a person might tell into a string that artfully leads back to itself the best self-referential way.

Burns is not just a great writer but a refreshing one. Reading her work helps me recharge a bit. I can’t put my finger on why or what it is but it feels nourishing, like a salve I didn’t know I needed. Maybe it’s just perspective - seeing things through another set of eyes, both familiar and foreign. I can feel myself regaining the hold I had on my writing and am excited to continue.

But the best part about Holly, and likely what makes her just a bit alluring is that she is a language geek like me and even has a favorite punctuation mark. Not many of us admit that. For me, it’s hard to say. I love em dashes; I am not as big a fan of semicolons (or of parentheses), as Holly is. I suppose it takes all types. Not everyone will agree on something as controversial as punctuation.

Thanks, Holly, for providing whatever it is I get from your blog that seems so refreshing and inspires me to continue forward.

If you have not seen Holly’s blog, please go check it out. Her careful dedication to the craft of writing is clear and I am sure you will find her style as interesting and intelligent, yet down-to-earth as I have.

Technorati Tags: Thailand, writer, Nothing But Bonfires, Holly Burns, writing, punctuation

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

I just used Lulu.com to create a calendar from some photos I did in Thailand when I was there in 2003 with my lovely wife. Go check it out!

This was a lot of fun to do, as it had me looking at the pictures quite seriously, remembering places and people and in general putting myself back into a country that is half a world away. What an incredibly beautiful country it is in many ways!

Here are some samples of the pictures:

Technorati Tags: calendar, photos, Thailand

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!