The following was written 7-17, waiting for the bus in Phitsanulok

8:23AM I would like, sometime, to fill in the pieces. To record the events for myself and others. So much has happened on this trip, this journal representing only a very small part.

More so, I would like to write some sort of conclusion. Here, near the end of, I look back at all the people, bus rides, and blisters, and they all meant something. After all, they happened, didn’t they?

The following was written 7-17, on the train from Phitsanulok to Bangkok

9:16AM This train is a bit older and trashier than the previous one, but the seats are padded and the air-con works.

It sounds like a diesel engine…

The following was written 7-16, in Phitsanulok

8:01PM I’ve managed to acquire a towel. It took a deal of sign language, but it looks like a shower is on for tonight. Of course, I’ve already forgotten the Thai word for “towel” he taught me.

The following was written 7-17, in Phitsanulok

7:46AM The sky opened up, thunder roared and lightning flashed last night, just as I had reached the safety of the floating restaurant. The storm kept me pinned on the boat for a couple of hours, but eventually died down enough for me to make a run for it without getting too wet. I made for a spot a few blocks away where earlier I had seen tuk-tuks waiting. Sure enough, one was there, and he overcharged me (as usual) for a ride back to the guest house.

I’m sitting in a cafe now, with my pack. Breakfast is a banana smoothie and waffle – though waffles here are always considered more of a dessert.

One night in Chiang Rai, there was a street vendor selling waffles. Plain – no syrup, toppings of any sort – but were they ever good. One of the best, I’d say. These aren’t that great. Taste more like microwaved Ego, really.

There are two little girls here in uniform, looking like they’re waiting to go to school. They’re both watching the Disney Channel, the commercials on which are in English, but Goofy, Mickey, and even Donald are dubbed in Thai. (I didn’t think Donald spoke even English.)

The following was written 7-14, in the Dream Cafe at Sukhothai

7:06pm I sit here, at the Dream Café. A covered porch in front of an expensive guest house in the New City.

Dimly lit, all wooden, vines growing over the front. Crescent shapes cut in the support beams with dim lights inside. Delerium playing on the stereo – appropriate music to be played in the ruined city of Thailand’s first capital, representing their golden age.

I came for the dessert – 2 scoops of vanilla ice cream 1 scoop of chocolate, bathed in chocolate syrup – but will remember the drink.

“Stamina drink,” the menu said. Traditional medicine in the form of herbs and alcohol, steeped for months. Could I resist?

The taste reminded me why I dislike alcohol. A spicy, strong rum, that somehow seemed to defy gravity and sit right in my nostrils. A shock, and a cleaner, but luckily only a shot.

Will I fly? Or only levitate? Will I regain perfect sight?

Not yet.

Mosquitoes are fighting for their share.

Multiple herbal mixture formulas steeped in alcohol for several months, used in Thai medicine for protection from sickness and ailments.

• Formula 5 Rejuvination: Nourishes eye sight, nervous system, relieves pain from bad circulation, regenerative cure for the pubis.

The following was written 7-16, under the beating fan in my room in Phitsanulok

12:33PM In Phitsanulok now. Or something like that. I can’t figure out how to spell or pronounce it.

Perhaps I was naive, thinking I’d complete the trip with no more worries than where to throw my used toilet paper. Where I’m staying tonight, I’ve finally had to come face-to-face with the horror of an Asian squat toilet.

I suppose they’re not that bad, really. Just odd. There’s not even a pressure washer this time. Just a bucket of water. Luckily, I have a fresh roll of toilet paper with me. The strange thing is that, despite the toilet’s size, there’s only one small little hole for everything to go down, and that one little hole is the only place with water. So if you miss it, it all just kinda sits there. You have to try to wash it down with the bucket of water. And then of course it doesn’t flush, so after you get it in the hole, it all just sits there.

Doesn’t seem like the most intelligent design to me. I must be missing something.

I ordered deep fried shrimp for lunch today, but didn’t expect everything on the plate to come deep fried and battered. Deep fried asparagus? That’s just wrong.

It has been getting progressively hotter as I inch down south (though I’m still in the North). The AC on the bus from Sukhothai today was broken. It was only an hour, but by the time that was through, I was praising the 95F coolness of the open air.

Tomorrow it’s back to Bangkok. I went to buy a seat on the train, thinking that would be more comfortable and scenic than a bus, if slower. Choices with AC were limited, so I had to get on the 8:59AM train, and I’m not sure if I have a wooden seat or what. I will have to wake up early. Luckily the station is only about 3 blocks away.

The guest house here doesn’t provide a top sheet. I’ll have to break out my silk sleeping bag liner tonight.

I don’t yet know where I’ll be sleeping tomorrow, but I’m considering braving Khao San Road. I did my best to avoid it the last time I was in Bangkok. But a trip to Thailand doesn’t seem complete without at least a quick visit to the infamous ghetto.

My flight home is something like 5AM on the 19th, which means I’ll have to spend the night in the airport. Otherwise I’d have to worry about finding a guest house with an insomniac receptionist who would allow me to check out at 3AM, and then try to find a metered taxi. All unlikely.

At least I’ll have plenty of time to get through security…

Thanks to the magic of something-or-other, I think I’m due to arrive in Seattle only 5 hours later at 10AM. That is, as long as the hyperdrive isn’t busted. And Atton isn’t our pilot.

There’s only one thing I want see in Phitsanulok, and that’s a Buddha image in a Wat up north. He’s supposed to have some sort of dragon-flame-halo thing. The map makes it look to be out of walking distance in this heat, so I’m putting it off.

There are supposed to be a couple tasty boat restaurants on the river up that way. Perhaps I’ll catch a tuk-tuk up there this evening and have dinner after I visit the Wat.

There was a monk eating at the restaurant where I took lunch today. Aren’t they supposed to be, you know, begging and stuff? At least the count of nicotine addict monks is still only 1.

I hope all of you are enjoying reading this, and are thankful for my choosing to publish it. It seems most of the entries are full of my complaints. I suppose that’s the danger of traveling alone, with no one to whine to. I live the good moments as they come, and when I sit down to write, all that’s left is the bad.

There’s some good in it, I think.

The following was written 7-15, in Sukhothai Historical Park

11:30AM Fruitless, here in the shadow of ruins. Man’s labor, great civilization reclaimed by nature.

Crumbled stone returning to the womb of the Earth to become life once again.

Why keep playing?

The river is change, but endless. Coming and going.

Spirits returning to shadow, and the darkness engulfing all.

Only questions.

Looking and searching and grasping.