|
"Ko Chang, A Journey's end"
I re-read the opening entries in my journal, one entitled "what the hell
am I doing here" caught my eye, the gist of it was basically, what to expect
when you have no expectations. I haven't compartmentalized all the results of no
expectations that are left for my return to the rat race. What I do know, I’m
nearing the finale of my 3 month endeavor, and it's time to end it.
Today, Saturday (when I wrote this in my journal), is the one week
landmark to my return home, and it's marked with restlessness. I am ready to go
home or atleast to move from the
island of Ko Chang. This island, very charming, had lost its hold on me a few
days ago. I found I was being harassed and annoyed by bugs, countless bites,
lack of water pressure, clean sheets, no hammock, etc. Yes, a mitt full of
prissy whines or as my English friends calls it, whinging! What it boils down
to, and you don't have to be Freud to see this, it's smoke from another fire,
that smoke is my need to return home. I'm not sure if I'm done touring or it's
the fact I'm getting so close to the scheduled end of my touring, kind of like
you really have to go pee when you're at your door fumbling with your keys,
eventually you just wet your pants because you can't find the right key, then
you realize you're at the wrong house, which is a blessing because you don't
have to clean up the puddle.
I have a burning to find stability; stability in friends, home,
vehicles, food, clothes, luxuries, and relationships, funny all the things I
needed a break from. I miss them most as I write about them now, thinking of
Vancouver's mountains, clean streets, budding trees, cherry blossoms falling,
lovely faces, kind traffic, Hastings’s street drug addicts, English as the first
language (unless you're in Richmond). It’s the roadwork of my life over the last
ten years I miss right now. To return, jumping in with both feet, to the journey
I strayed from 3 months ago. I have enjoyed this meandering "road less taken";
bending wild paths, surprising drop offs, occasional dead-ends, but never wasted
trips. When I finally emerge back on my
Vancouver
highway (jammed up), my highway of familiarity I will see it more clearly and I
will wisely choose dirty cross-roads, detours, that I would've avoided before
this journey, to escape boredom more often. "In order to have a fulfilling life,
one must relinquish boredom, (safety and security) and that is not always an
easy task to perform". The forsaking of comfort. I will know better now when to
jump off the treadmill of security and follow the tree rooted over grown path to
a new country, culture, and vision of life.
When life is looking like a traffic jam, and I can't find the strength to
run the road ahead, then I'll return to the paths beside the highway,
essentially, we all should. I'll just abandon the vehicle, grab my backpack, my
summit pack, and find my toes in turquoise water, white sand, virgin snow,
frothy white rivers, granite mountains, wherever to find the happiness of
freedom. Life is simpler now, not so daunting, it can be measured, calculated
and understood - well atleast a little more than yesterday. For seven more days
I'll look for the light in the window of my Pitt Meadows home through the dense
forest of Thailand, but I’ll enjoy each step of the journey to that light. I'll
love the vistas passed, love the misty valleys, the conversations held, the food
tasted, the beers drank, swaying palms, and raging seas - but i have to admit I
have one eye firmly locked ahead, on the trail, with vigor in each step, towards
my home.
Funny, since writing, that annoyance at the bugs, heat, and bites have lost
their edge, thanks to writing this journal entry. Writing is such a gift. My
angst dissipates in the sepia ink of my journal, in messy hand written script,
with bug juice splattered (got you, you little bastard), a new comfort develops,
all because of a good talk with my journal.
Alright enough sap:
here's some insights, today’s theme, planes trains and automobiles. Okay boats
and booze.
1. Why is it when you get on an ill looking boat, the person you hope the most
is not the driver, always takes the helm? I remember my last boat, "the Antiqaa"
it's Thai for "at the bottom of the ocean", was skipped by this guy who when I
passed him, smelt like diesel and Sangsom (rum) I was ready to call 911 when I
saw him ...then he starts the engines, and takes the wheel.. We’re all going to
die as I thought about leaping overboard.
2. The latest ship, skipped by Captain Sangsom, was the most delapated,
decrepit oldest thing ever, I’m sure it was held together by binder twine and
bungee chords (which incidentally is a staple for fix it projects at Coquitlam
Fire Rescue)... what struck me about this boat, was that the paint job was
totally faded, chipped and worn out, but it had two lovely new banners.. "Singha,
the beer of
Thailand".. Oh yeah, there is the confidence I needed.
3. So as I perused escape crafts - none, and life jackets - circa 1912, one of
them had titanic across the back in faded lettering. It calmed me because I
quietly sang Celine Dion's "love will go on" for the rest of the journey, 2.5
hours and nearly got tossed overboard in the process.
4. While arriving on the “far side”, Don Larson would've loved this boat, I
found land and strolled down the main street gleefully (not gaily! Gleefully,
big difference) and found a roadside garage, with "Car Care" written on the
sign. Lovely, except for the beer fridge and Singha signs everywhere inside.
Free beer with oil change.
5. And further to that, I passed a fricking pharmacy, that had walls lined with
prescription drugs for sale, freaky in itself, but it too had a big beer cooler
humming noisily in the corner.
"Alcohol, the cause of and the answer to, all of life's little problems."
|
