Carnevale di Viareggio

When people think of Carnival, they typically think of the one in Rio. There's a less well-known one that's been happening for a hundred years in my home town of Viareggio. It's just like the one in Rio, except with less T&A and a reduced chance of acquiring a venereal disease. Hey, it's February, it's cold in the northern hemisphere. Don't worry, if you want VD there are plenty of Ukranian strippers around.

Anyhow, the city pretty much shuts down to party for an entire month. On four consecutive Sundays they have a parade of giant papier-mache floats along the beachfront in order to judge which is best. The winner gets something like 100K euros. Everyone dresses up in costumes, and other days of the week a different part of the city shuts down to have a big outdoor party. Between Carnevale and the beach in the summer, it's no wonder about half of the kids who live in Viareggio flunk out of school.

Other minor highlights include learning the subtleties of squatter's rights in London at Stefano's place, and enjoying a meal in Rome cooked by a top chef on the Italian version of the Food network.

Enjoy the pics...

https://photos.app.goo.gl/8M1faJDRW7oCviMu9

Santa's Boy Toy: A Christmas Story

I'm looking for something to do the week before Christmas when, in an uncharacteristic fit of altruism, I decide to volunteer for the holidays. I haven't done much volunteering, actually zero, but I figure what the hell, it's not like I have anything pressing on my schedule. Come to think of it, I don't even have a schedule.
I'm browsing through some of the online ads and find out that the AIDS Emergency Fund needs help with their annual Christmas eve dinner for AIDS victims and their families. It sounds like a rewarding experience, or at least sounds like it doesn't suck too badly. Besides, it gives me an excuse to wear my Santa hat.
On Christmas eve morning, I arrive at the War Memorial building across the street from city hall on about an hour before they're scheduled to start serving food. All the volunteers are corralled into one room, awaiting instructions from the event organizers. I'm a bit early, so I manage to avoid the free-for-all at the bagel and coffee table. Even at a charity event, the melee that ensues at the free snack table when most of the volunteers arrive is shameful.
A couple of the coordinators walk in and give us a briefing on what's going to happen, how many people are expected to show, and what kind of duties are available for us volunteers. The dinner is in its 17th year, and they are expecting between 1000-1200 people for this year's event. Most of the duties involve food and drink serving, coat check, and cleanup. The coordinators then proceed to pick people at random and lead them out of the room to their stations.
A handful of us are left, waiting for our assignments. One of the coordinators comes back into the room, glances around, walks up to me and asks, "Do you want to work at the North Pole?"
"Sure."
I follow him out of the room, around a couple of corners and over to a display with a large Christmas tree, some stuffed animals, and a cloth-covered chair.
"This is the North Pole. People are going to be coming here to get their pictures taken with Santa. Tony will tell you what to do. "
Tony, a short Asian guy who's in his seventh year volunteering for the event, is in charge of the Santa operation. My job is to keep people in line, ask the kids their ages so we can get them an appropriate gift, and take pictures if the photographer goes on break. I'm the line elf.
This is way better than shoveling mashed potatoes onto people's plates. I get to interact with people, give gifts to little kids, spread holiday cheer and whatever the hell else does not involve getting gravy stains on my shirt. I take off my sweater and don my Santa hat, ready for action.
As the first few people trickle into the North Pole, I start to get the hang of things. I keep an eye out for kids, and when I see one I say hello and ask them their age. I keep the line moving. I hold bags and purses while people sit on Santa's lap. I chat with the folks in line, trying to keep things light. It's turning out to be a lot of fun, and the kids seem to be really appreciative of the gifts.
I'm watching a couple of middle-aged guys getting their picture taken with Santa when one of them waves over to me and asks, "Can we take a picture with you?"
"Me? Sure, I guess." Why would anyone want me in their picture? I walk over and stand between them, and they huddle in toward me for the shot.
"Smile!"
They thank me, and I wish them a Merry Christmas as they walk away.
I continue doing my elf thing, greeting people, making small talk, things like that. There are two Santas, one an older man, and one a thin younger woman. They switch off every half hour or so, since it gets pretty hot in that Santa suit.
I'm absent-mindedly watching a couple of kids have their picture taken with the older Santa, when I hear a voice behind me say, "I want a picture with Santa's helper!"
Before I have a chance to register exactly what that means, there's an arm around my waist and another one around my chest. I'm being grappled from behind by an unknown assailant! Wait a minute. I think I'm being spooned! I look to my left just in time to be blinded by two camera
flashes.
Though a bit disoriented, I turn around in time to see a chubby, disheveled man in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt laughing and walking away. "Merry Christmas Santa's helper!"
Huh. That was weird. I look over at Tony and the photographer and they just smile. I get a few more picture requests here and there, some with families and some with just random people. I figure I must be doing a good job of entertaining the crowd if people want to remember me in their photographs.
I continue busily distributing gifts and managing the growing crowd.
The dinners are served by invitation every hour, so folks seem to be coming in waves. The routine seems to be that after they've eaten, they head straight for a picture with Santa. I've become the MC of the North Pole, chatting with people, cracking jokes, and trying to make sure that everyone's having a good time. I'm in some kind of elf groove.
After handing a couple of gifts to some kids who have just had their picture taken, I turn around and find myself confronted by a very tall, bald African-American fellow at the front of the line. He looks me up and down inquisitively.
"So. you're the sexy Santa's helper that everyone's been talking about?"
I look around to see if he's talking to somebody else. "Who? Me?"
"Yeah you. The security guys are all talking about you. Haven't you noticed how they keep coming by?"
"Uh. not really. I mean, they're security guys. I figured they were just, you know, securing things."
"Uh-huh."
Oh boy. Things are starting to make a little more sense. The pictures. The spooning. The security guys. The popularity. All of which would be great. if I was gay.
Now I'm not sure what to do. I'm wearing kind of a tight black t-shirt. Maybe I should put my sweater back on. Wait a second. be cool.
After all, it's no big deal, just a few pictures here and there. Still, I don't want to give the wrong impression. I mean, with women, even if they're ugly, you flirt with them when they're flirting with you. What do you do when guys are flirting with you? What exactly is the protocol? I don't want to be rude. Even worse, I don't want to be a cocktease. I can't believe I just thought that.
I'm working on my strategy when I see a familiar face walking toward me from the back of the line. This guy has taken his picture with Santa more than once, so I've had a couple of conversations with him as he's made his way up the line. He's heading straight toward me. He has two cards and a pen in his hand. Oh no.
"Hey, I thought we could exchange numbers."
I say the first thing that comes to mind. "What for?"
"So we can get together." He hands me one of the cards. It has his e-mail, his cell phone, and his home phone. I guess he's worried that I won't be able to get a hold of him in an emergency.
Oh shit. What do I do now? "Listen man. uh. I. uh. you know. I uh.
I like ladies."
His expression is unchanging. "Okay."
Okay? What does that mean? "Uh. I just wanted to make sure. uh. so you mean like get together for a beer or something?"
"Yeah!"
"Well, sure I guess." I take the other card and start writing my e-mail address. Wait a minute. do I want this guy having my e-mail? Shit, too late! I already started writing it. Okay, I'll change one letter, that way later I can always say that I made a mistake. Clever.
"Just your e-mail, no phone number?"
"Uh, I don't have a phone. I mean, I don't have a cell phone and I never pick up the house phone. E-mail is best. But not for another couple of weeks. I'm going to visit my family. They're down south." I gesture in a random direction which may or may not be south.
"Okay, well maybe I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah. See ya." Oh man. I just used the e-mail equivalent of the phony number routine on a dude. It's like I violated some guy code. I am a tease. I feel kind of dirty.
As the afternoon progresses, the Santa's helper picture requests become even more popular. I've never had so many guys wanting to sit on my lap. One time, during a group shot, the guy standing next to me has to lean in toward Santa to get into the picture, so he reaches back and grabs my ass "for stability." Another time, I'm kneeling next to Santa for a group picture when I hear someone standing in line shout, "I think Santa's helper should take his shirt off!"
Now I know what it's like to be a chick walking by a construction site. Granted, it's flattering. A bit awkward, but flattering.
I continue handing out gifts as people get their pictures taken with Santa.
I'm only supposed to give the gifts to kids, but we have a lot of them. I manage to sneak a little something to the ladies I've befriended that tell me they want something for their kids or grandkids. Yeah, maybe they're
making it up, but so what? It's the holidays. A few of the families come
through more than once to get their picture, and we let them have as many as they'd like.
After a while, one of the security guys comes up to me and says, "Dorothy wants to get her picture taken with the sexy elf. Is that okay?"
"Of course!" Dorothy? That sounds promising. At least it's a woman.
I sit down in Santa's chair, and as I look up I see the security guy coming toward me leading the way for the aforementioned Dorothy. She's been working in the kitchen, so she's wearing an apron to go with her decorative sweater and glasses. Dorothy is 82 years old.
"I get my picture taken at the North Pole every year, and this year I wanted it with the sexy elf!" I've become the Christmas poster boy for gay men and octogenarian women. I wonder if I could somehow work that into my resume.
As the dinner crowd starts to thin out, so does the activity at the North Pole. for everyone except Santa's helper. Toward the end of the day, one of the security guys comes up to me and tells me that I'm his Christmas present and he wants to take me home. Later, an African American guy wants to get a picture with me but says the lighting by the tree makes his skin look too dark. We end up going out in the hallway to take a picture, after which he gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Eh, what the hell. Merry Christmas.
You know what, though? I'm glad I did it. Everyone that came through the North Pole, for whatever reason, whether it was to get a picture with Santa, or for a gift, or even to get a picture with the elf, left with a smile on their face. There were families and individuals, young and old, people of all shapes, sizes and colors. I cracked a lot of jokes, took a lot of pictures, had a few laughs, and tried to make some sick people happy on Christmas eve. In the end, it wasn't altruism at all. I was completely self-centered. I did it because it felt good for me to do it. I'd gladly do it again. Next time, though, I'm going to grow a scruffy beard and wear an overcoat.

Stefano's Wedding and El Masturbador

Pictures here though there aren't many....

https://photos.app.goo.gl/i2HXmECtkzypB177A

I think my first mistake was that I forgot both my Giants hat and my Raiders jersey when I was packing my stuff. I never travel anywhere without at least one of them.

So I get to London and manage to ascertain exactly how the preparations are going. No reception booked. No tux. No wedding rings. This is 5 days before the wedding. Ah... of course. At least Stefano's predictable. Anyway, after dinner we went to this bar called Corum to arrange for the reception, which was negotiated by yours truly. The night ended back home with Stefano, taking advantage of my weakened state, beating me with my laptop while I was trying to pass out. Typical first day.

At this point, I'd like to take some time to explain the shower facilities in Stefano's house. Actually, it's not even a shower. It's a garden hose attached to the hot and cold water faucets. I'm attaching a picture so you can get an idea of what I'm talking about. I had better facilities in Thailand. "The Tube" quickly achieved legendary status among the houseguests. So that afternoon I went out with Stefano and Caterina to pick out their wedding rings. Did you know that the best man is supposed to pay for the rings? I wasn't aware of this but apparently it's an Italian tradition. Luckily, Stefano and Caterina decided to take it easy on me and we went around the Lewisham area looking for wedding rings at pawn shops.
They were really specific about wanting a matched set of three interlocking rings. I'm thinking that there's no way in hell we're going to find something that esoteric wandering through pawn shops in the London version of the Tenderloin. Well, lo and behold, at the 4th place we entered we found a matching wedding set that actually fit both of them. Weird.

So the next day Stefano, his buddy Michele and I go to pick out a tux on Oxford street. Stefano tried on this gray three-piece that with his crazed haircut made him look like a mutated hobbit during Bilbo's party scene in the first Lord of the Rings. So the guy asks him when he needs it and Stefano says in three days. The guy basically laughed at us and said the only thing he could give us by that time was a charcoal gray suit, which is what we ended up getting. At this point, Ste turns to me and says "Could you spot me for the tux? I'll pay you back after the wedding." Okay, there's no way in hell that I'm going to take his wedding money, so let's chalk another one up to travel expenses. Too bad I couldn't expense it to Keynote, like that time George and I took Stefano out to a 200-quid sushi dinner. Heh heh.

So on sunday after dinner we all headed out to a dance club, which was pretty cool. Once again, much drinking occurred. We're hanging out at the bar and I decided to take my camera out of my man purse and snap a couple of shots. As I was putting it back, I noticed this couple looking at me. I put the bag closer to my leg. I turned away to talk to Stefano for a couple of seconds, and when I turned back my bag was gone along with the couple. Fucking hell. I went to the front to talk to the bouncers. They said I'd come to the right place, that there'd already been another theft, and that they had a bead on the thieves. I waited out front for about 15 minutes and then saw as some of the bouncers were escorting the couple I'd seen earlier to another room. I grabbed one of them and said I recognized the girl as the one who'd been near me when my shit got pilfered. They told me to hold tight since they'd called the cops. A minute later they said I could pick up my bag with the coat check girl downstairs. I went down to get it and the girl gave me the bag... minus my camera and cell phone. The guy who stole it had that stuff on him and they're holding onto it until the cops come. Anyhow, the cops finally come around and the coat check girl comes up to the bar to get me and bring me down to this other room. I'm there with this other chick who had her wallet stolen and across the room is the couple being interrogated by the cops. She was really fired up and kept looking over at the couple and yelling shit like "You're getting what you deserve"
and "You're not laughing now, are ya?" Turns out the couple is Italian (of course). The English cops are being total hardasses when they're interrogating them and the girl just breaks down and starts crying up a storm. Very dramatic. Anyhow, I'm down there two and a half hours between identifying shit, waiting, and giving a statement. They ask to hold on to the cell phone and camera for evidence in case they need to go to trial, I say ok because I want them to get nailed for this. By the time I get out it's 4 am and everyone's gone. I get home about 5 o'clock and everyone's still awake. When I walk in the house everyone starts high-fiving me and patting me on the back. They said they saw some chick (the coat check girl) come up, point to me, and take me with her so they thought I was off banging her. That would've been legendary, just having some chick point to you and take you home. What am I, Hugh Hefner? That shit doesn't happen in real life. Instead I was hanging out with some fat English cop.

A couple of days later is the big wedding. The best part of the morning of the wedding was that 7 people (Stefano, Caterina, Anna, Michele, Bruno, Letizia, and me) not only had to share one bathroom, but washing up with the tube takes about 3 times as long as a normal shower. You have to get in some kind of prone position in the bathtub, rinse yourself off, soap yourself up, repeat, etc. Plus, the low water pressure makes your hair turn out all goofy after you wash it, kind of like that Seinfeld episode with the low flow showerheads where Kramer's hair is all flat. Awesome. The ladies especially loved the tube. Still, we managed to get to the site early and have a couple of pints at the pub across the street. The ceremony itself was great. The justice of the peace was formal and professional, but not cold. There were about 40-50 people there, Stefano was choking up, there were surprise notes from his friends, it was really nice. Afterward we hit the pub across the street for a couple of hours, then around 5 we headed over to Corum for the reception. The way we had negotiated, Stefano said he wanted to spend a total of 500 quid. So we figured about half on food and half on wine. Then he says how about 200 on food and 300 on wine? Then, a couple of minutes later he says how about 150 on food and 350 on wine? We had lots of bottles of wine and some crackers and hors d'oeuvres, so everyone was really lit. It's always fun to throw back a few glasses of wine with the elder Bresci. Plus I spent some quality time talking to Caterina's stepdad who is a Freudian psychoanalyst. Free therapy is great, especially when you're drunk. Anyhow, at about 1:30 a bunch of cabs came to take us home. Us and about 30 other people (not including the parents and family). That was great... 40 chain-smoking Italians partying it up in your house. I passed out in an upstairs bedroom with the door closed and woke up in the middle of the night coughing from the amount of smoke in my room. It was like I was on the set of Backdraft. That's my brother goddammit!!! You burned him Stephen!!!

The next day everyone who came into town for the wedding left and that evening Alex flew into town to hang out for three days. She'd never been to the UK before so I was going to be her tour guide for the London part of the trip. I didn't mention this earlier but I managed to get my old company Keynote to subsidize my trip by agreeing to do some server installations for them in London and Paris. The next day I manage to perform a server installation in the exciting town of St. Albans, lock myself out of Stefano's cell phone by trying to guess what his PIN code is since he didn't tell me (what the hell is a PUK code?), lose Alex with no way for her to get a hold of me, then finally find Alex. The day after we wake up to no power in the house which means, of course, a cold shower. Actually, it was a cold tube, which was even better. Turns out nobody paid the electric bill. I had to go down and recharge the power card at the local minimarket. We decide to take it easy just took the bus around London (I showed Alex where I got my nose pierced in Camden Town, we walked around the center, she had a rancid iced latte, etc.) and met up with her friend Roy later on in the evening for dinner and drinks. Between the dodgy Indian food and the rancid latte I think London left quite an impression on Alex.

Alex left with Roy on Saturday to tour around England and I sealed myself up in Stefano's house for the next 4 days. I hadn't gone to bed before 3 am since I arrived, which was 10 days ago. I was still waiting for word from Keynote on whether or not I'd be able to go to Paris because they hadn't shipped the servers yet. I was still trying to get a hold of the supervising officer so I could get my camera and cell phone back, which finally happened on Wednesday... a week and a half after the incident.

Stefano and Caterina returned on Wednesday after a well-rested, tanned week in Sardegna. They had 5 days to find a place to live before getting kicked out of the house. Stefano was explaining to me how he was just going to stay in his place until they found another one. He actually used the word "squat" which was cool if only for the fact that he said it with a thick Italian accent. I thought the last time anyone squatted was in Oklahoma in the 1870s. Anyway, I finally got the ok from Keynote that the servers would arrive in Paris on time so I booked my trip to leave on Friday. I called a hostel near the Louvre to try to book a bed for four nights, but let me explain something about my French-speaking abilities. You know when you go down to Fisherman's Wharf and some hapless Japanese tourist asks you for directions? Then you start talking to him and he gets this glazed-over look in his eyes as he's futilely trying to comprehend what you're saying. Then he tries to repeat what you told him and comes up with something like "then you... make left... at pancake... then go... then stop at dishwasher, yes?"
So you spend the next 10 minutes trying to help this guy and wondering if it's just a language problem or if maybe you should start looking for his guardian because he's a foreign retard. Well, that Japanese guy is me, except with French. So at the end of the phone conversation I could only hope I had a reservation and didn't order a pizza or donate an organ or something.

In spite of my language difficulties I managed to enjoy what is in my opinion one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Paris should really be seen by night to truly appreciate it. I don't think there's any other city that's lights up its monuments and historic buildings in a more striking fashion. Plus it always seems like there's something going on. Saturday night I was just wandering around and ended up hanging out at some kind of salsa dancing competition that was happening on the banks of the Seine. Sunday there was a very moving pictorial display outside the Jardin du Luxembourg commemorating the liberation of France at the end of WWII. Oh, and let me suggest that if you ever do go see pictures of wartime Paris that you don't follow it up by going to see Fahrenheit 9/11. I almost threw myself into the Seine.

Sunday night I get back to the hostel just looking to relax because I have to get up early in the morning to do an installation for Keynote. So it's about 11 and I'm just chilling out on my bunk reading my book when a new guy comes into the room and introduces himself. He's a dancer from Spain who's studying at some academy an hour and a half outside Paris and is in town for a week's vacation. He goes off to take a shower. I continue reading on my bunk. When he comes back he towels himself off and flops onto his bunk, buck naked. I'm thinking, okay, well, we're in Europe. So he's just hanging out, and I'm reading my book trying not to look over. Still, I can see out of the corner of my eye that this guy's not going to put any pants on. Eventually I shut off the light and try to get some sleep. About a half hour goes by and I can't sleep. At this point, I start to hear some... sounds. At first I think I must be mistaken, but after about 30 seconds there's no doubt what's going on in the
bunk below mine to my right. Okay, I'm not sure what to do here. I start
kind of shuffling and rustling, but that doesn't seem to stop this guy. Honestly, the thing I wanted to do most was just laugh out loud, but I decided to play it cool and try to wait it out. Well, this guy must be some kind of Spanish champion because he was going on for a while. Finally he decides to give it a rest right before the third bunkmate comes in. So after the third guy goes to bed I figure I'm safe. A few minutes pass by and I think no way this guy's going to start up again with two other guys in the room right? Wrong. So I'm wondering if the other guy's going to say anything or what, but it sounds like he's asleep. Anyhow, eventually he lets up and I get to sleep.

The next morning I'm having breakfast and the third roommate comes up to talk to me. He's French so he's speaking to me in somewhat broken English. He says "you know that new guy in our bunk? He was naked when I came in last night." I say yeah. Then he says "I think he was..." And he makes a gesture which transcends language, race and culture... the universal wanking gesture. And I laughed and said yeah, I'm pretty sure he was. Then he says "That's disgusting... I'm moving rooms!" Now, I could've moved rooms too, but I figured a) I'm leaving tomorrow and b) I'm meeting up with Luiz tonight so I'll probably be out late. So I leave and do my final installation and meet up with Luiz that evening at Les Deux Magots in front of the Eglise St. Germain. It's a famous cafe where Sartre and De Beauvoir hung out, which of course means my espresso cost 5 euros. We wandered around the Latin Quarter and ended up having an excellent dinner at someplace that Luiz had read about in Cool Restaurants Paris. Then we wandered down to the Pantheon, around the Seine, in front of Notre Dame, and in the area of Marais. Luiz spent most of the night trying to convince me to change my flight and get a one-way ticket back to San Francisco so I could hang out with him for a week in Paris.

I got back to the hostel around 2:30. I opened the door to my room and found all the lights on, The Spanish Wanker lying under a sheet wide awake with his glasses on, and the entire room smelling of Aloe Vera. I had no idea what to make of this scene so I quickly jumped up on my bunk, shut off the lights, and tried to sleep. It was just me and him. I decided that if he started up again I was going to tell him to take it to the toilet. It was like some kind of perverted showdown. Every time I heard him rustling or turning over I expected him to go for it. He never went at it, but I didn't get any sleep.

Now I'm back home, trying to recover from the flu that Roca brought me back from Brazil. I think I'm going to stay put for a while.

As always, the dude abides. From home.
Dave

The Foot F-ing Master

Hey everybody,

Pictures here:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/SiGTVZh4C29oPXPz8

Last time I left you I was about to leave Chiang Mai to head for a relaxing couple of weeks on the islands of the Samui archipelago in the Gulf of Thailand. My intention was to head straight for Ko Tao but I missed the last ferry. No problem... when I'm travelling I'm so adaptable my nickname should be Darwin. I ended up staying one night on Chaweng Beach on Ko Samui, which is the most happening (translation: touristy) spot on the most happening (translation: touristy) island in the area. Don't get me wrong, I love being overcharged for a room, blaring music and flashing lights all up and down the street, and being approached by ladyboys and bargirls trying to get me to come to a cabaret show. Fanfreakingtastic! I did manage to salvage the evening by grabbing my walkman and a lounge chair and lying on the beach listening to some music. I didn't realize how much I had missed the water. I really looked forward to the next couple of weeks on the islands.

The next day I headed to Ko Tao which is one of Thailand's top diving destinations. It's a fairly small island and from my stay there I'd say it's an excellent place to go and chill out for a few days. There's enough nightlife to keep things interesting but not so much that it's in your face. The beaches are not anything spectacular, but the diving and snorkelling are outstanding. The plan was to meet up with Rob as he was taking his open water course there, but the place where he was staying was all booked. I ended up staying at Big Blue resort which was recommended to me by my dive instructor in Australia. I splurged on a sweet aircon room with a double bed and a balcony. At about six o'clock there's a knock on my door. Rob is standing there with his buddy Steve and three bottles of Chang in his hands. Uh oh. Ko Tao has a pretty sweet setup at night. The bars are right out on the beach, and they put out these low tables surrounded by mats and cushions on which you can lie down. Then all around the perimeter they dig these holes where they put used beer bottles to serve as torches for mood lighting. I was happily drinking a beer with Rob and Steve and a few others when someone went and ordered a bucket. For some reason, buckets lead directly to injury for yours truly. As I was sitting down on one of the cushions, I slipped and fell and rolled backwards onto one of the torch pits, which I put out... with my leg. It was straight out of some Benny Hill sketch. I now have a "Ko Tao tattoo" on the back of my calf which will always remind me of my trip. I'm just grateful it wasn't some other body part. Rob went around telling everyone that it was my birthday so the whole bar sang me the birthday song. That was it though... cheap bastards didn't even buy me a round. Sure, it wasn't my birthday, but they didn't know that. I felt slighted.

I didn't get back until 2 AM and my alarm went off at 6:45. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to schedule my advanced certification dives for this particular morning. Damn you Beer Chang! Well, I managed to pass the rest of my dives and get my advanced open water diver certification, which means I can now molest acquatic life at a depth of 30 meters! Woohoo! Look out Nemo... here comes daddy!!! Hahaha! In spite of my Chang-induced glaze, one thing I was able to appreciate about the dives was the incredible visibility. I could swear at our first dive site it was something like 20 meters. The water was so clear and warm that I ended up diving without a wetsuit in my board shorts quite comfortably. I was able to see a reef shark as well on our first dive, which was wicked cool. I did a couple of fun dives the next day but the only thing I saw was a shitload of fins and snorkels. The dive sites are really crowded in the afternoon so all you're doing is dodging other divers. The next day I decided to break things up a bit by trying to kayak around the island. In the 95 degree midday sun. I had to turn back early because I had signed up for a night dive, and I think I was getting heatstroke, but I did get to see the north side of the island which is inaccessible by road. Unfortunately, it was not that interesting, just rocks and a bunch of trees. The night dive was extremely cool though. I almost got stuck in a crevice trying to follow the divemaster. My buoyancy sucks. The highlight was seeing a pufferfish. It looked just like it did on the Simpsons. You know, that episode where Homer eats blowfish at the sushi restaurant and they tell him he only has 24 hours to live. I couldn't get too close, though, because if they're forced to puff up it's really bad for their heart.

The next morning I left for Ko Phangan a broken shell of a man. I don't know if it was heat exhaustion, or overexertion from kayaking and diving, or bad panaeng curry, or what, but I was visited by my old friend the Vomitrhea Fairy during the night. Repeatedly. I blame it on the fact that someone at our table ordered a bucket after dinner. I didn't even drink any... its mere proximity guaranteed that something would happen to me. Upon my arrival in Ko Phangan I decided to head straight for Haad Rin to look for a place to stay. It's ground zero for the Full Moon party which was to occur in a few days. I was in no mood to carry around my backpack and look for a place to stay. Now whenever I had met other travellers in Thailand who were headed to the Full Moon party they all warned me not to go to Haad Rin... you'll never find a place to stay... it's crowded and noisy... it's dirty and chaotic... blah blah blah. They made it sound like they would've preferred to stay in downtown Baghdad.
When I got there, it was nothing like I expected. It's just a small village on the southeast corner of the island with one main street and two beaches opposite each other on a peninsula. Within a half hour I had found a bungalow right on the water on the quiet sunset side of the peninsula. I met up with Caroline and Jodie (from Manchester) whom I had met in Singapore and also with Matt (from Scotland) who had travelled with them through Malaysia. The next few days leading up to the Full Moon party were very relaxed, consisting mostly of sitting on the beach listening to music, hanging out in front of my bungalow watching the sunset over the water, and watching the nightly lightning displays across the sea. There's good nightlife over on the sunrise side of the peninsula with loads of beachfront bars and clubs offering all three types of music: House, Techno, AND Trance! woo hoo! I'm in heaven! I was very impressed by the firedancers that were out there. You know, the dudes twirling around the fire sticks and doing all sorts of acrobatics. They offer firedancing classes on the island, and if I'd had a few more days I'm sure I could've come away with at least 2nd degree burns. Especially if there were any buckets around. When you're hanging out at the bars on the beach, one thing you constantly have to watch out for are the kids trying to sell you glow sticks, bracelets, necklaces, and other shit. They'll sneak up behind you and wrap the necklace around your neck before you know what the hell is going on. They're like 5 year old ninjas or something. The Thai government could use these kids as assassins. Also, you can have your picture taken with any of the following animals: snakes, falcons, iguanas, and monkeys. Jodie had been chased back to her room by a wild monkey so when one of the picture dudes came up and put a monkey on her head the look on her face was one of utter terror. Heh heh. Another bonus about staying in Haad Rin is that it's like visiting two countries in one: Thailand and Israel. I wouldn't be surprised if Thai people actually felt like a minority. Every time I went to an internet cafe I'd have to switch the keyboard over from Hebrew to English. But that's neither here nor there.

For those of you not familiar with the Full Moon party, I'll do my best to describe it to you. In a word: chaos. We headed down to the beach around 11 o'clock. The streets were lined with bucket vendors. I began to fear for my life. Fortunately, I think some sort of magnetic field was created due to the sheer number of buckets floating around that allowed me to come away from the night unscathed. The beach was completely packed with people. The party seemed to be divided into three layers. The first layer was the people who were actually in or immediately around the bars and clubs. The second layer was the beach from the clubs to the shore which consisted of people either dancing or standing around and chatting, all equipped with buckets and/or beers. The third layer was the one close to the shore. That was the de facto walkway for the party that people would use to go along the beach and get from one bar to another. It was also where people went to pass out, so you had some kind of human obstacle course to negotiate as you were walking around. I guess there might even be a fourth layer which was the water. That seemed to be the popular place to have sex or just get naked. I've never been around such a large number of people who were high or drunk or both... at least a few thousand were there. I guess it was like a giant outdoor rave except everyone was wearing fisherman pants. There was the mandatory sighting of a dude in a Dr. Seuss hat and many people with facepaint. It would have been a very old testament moment had it started raining frogs and a tsunami came and washed us away.
I left at about 4:30 but came back to check out the scene at 10 in the morning. There were still people partying in a couple of the bars. The beach was a complete mess of empty beer bottles and plastic buckets mixed with other trash. I helped out a guy who had passed out on the beach, but surprisingly he was the only casualty I saw. Maybe the other ones had already been cleared away by the time I got there.

After a recovery day in Haad Rin, we decided to head to Haad Yuan for a couple of days. It's right next to Haad Rin, but it's very secluded and can only be reached by boat. It was a very relaxing place to spend my last couple of days on the islands. It's a very short strip of beach with nothing but clear, warm water and lounge chairs. No internet stations, no shops, only the restaurants run by the resorts. It was tough to leave, not just because of the environment but also because of the cool crew of Caroline, Jodie and Matt. I flew out from Samui to Bangkok where I had a few hours to head into town and meet up with my travel guardian angel Alex before my flight to London. We hadn't seen each other in a couple of years but she helped me out a great deal by giving me advice on where to go and what to do in every country I visited and by hooking me up with some great people in New Zealand. She's been travelling for a couple of years so we had a lot to catch up on, plus now I had a Bangkok tour guide, so I decided to stay an extra day and fly to London the following night. So I got to see a bit of the Thai capital and enjoyed some excellent company on my last day in Thailand. We didn't make it to the ping pong show because Alex had already been twice and she was afraid three times could be classified as a fetish. We both got a foot massage, which was actually relaxing, but I kept thinking of that scene between Jules and Vincent in Pulp Fiction...

Jules: It ain't no fuckin' ballpark either. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her holyiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin'
sport. Foot massages don't mean shit.
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot fuckin' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?
Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothin'.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage.
Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed.

Ha ha ha! Yeah, I know it's rude, but if you've read this far I figure you're hardcore.

Now I'm in London with Stefano and it's like I had seen him yesterday. We put my bags down at his place and he says "okay, let's go to a pub and get a Guinness. Then I want to hear about the women." I fear single Stefano. Then we spent the afternoon catching up in a park drinking Stella. It's weird though, because I thought I'd feel some kind of shock at coming back to someplace familiar, but I almost feel like I've never left. Time has passed so quickly... I think I'll be ready to take off again soon. Heh heh. Anyhow, I don't know if I'll be doing anything all that interesting in the next few weeks before coming home other than hanging out on the beach in Italy, but I'll try to come up with something to keep y'all entertained.

As always, the dude abides,
Dave

No Pai, No Gain

Hey everybody,

Pictures here:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/72XJZEvZNcMeBfiUA

Greetings from the land of stray dogs and fearless chickens! I think I'm enjoying my first couple of weeks being 31. I like to tell people I'm 31. It sounds more authoritative than 30, like I know what I'm doing. Maybe because it's a prime number. I don't know.

Last time I left you I was in Chiang Mai, where the night before I took off I went to see some Muay Thai kickboxing. For those of you not familiar with Muay Thai, it's like boxing except with kicking and knees and elbows. There were something like 8 bouts that we (I went with some friends from the cooking school) watched. The fighters ranged in weight from 100-140 lbs, and some of them looked like they were as young as 11 years old. These guys are lightning fast and most of the fighting involves kicks to the midsection and knees to the midsection while grappling. Every once in a while someone gets an elbow to the head. There were two knockouts. There's a lot of ceremony involved before each bout, and during the fight there's a band that plays some drums and some kind of clarinet-type instrument along with the fight. My favorite fight of the night was the one involving the white guy. I guess the Thais like any excuse to have foreigners fighting in the ring because it was billed as a "special match." This dude's name was Mark and he weighed about 160 lbs. His opponent (the Thai fighter) had that look about him like they only drag him out to fight the foreigners. He was chubby, out of shape, and looked like he'd just been woken up. He gave that vibe like he'd be more comfortable on a recliner with a beer in his hand watching reruns of the Thai version of Cops. Anyway, the fight was a sloppy free for all which the Thai dude eventually won, but it was heavy on the entertainment factor.

The next day I headed to a village in the northwest of Thailand called Pai where I stayed for a week. Pai is a slow-moving, remote village full of hippies and granolas. It's a place where people go for a couple of days and end up staying a few months. This guy named David at our guesthouse had been there for 5 months and was now working as a part-time ambulance driver and playing guitar at the local bar. One night when it was raining he came to pick us up from a bar in the ambulance with the lights and siren going. Anyhow, the guesthouse where I stayed was right along the Pai river and I got a private bungalow along the water. The first night I was there the owner Rick was hanging out with a bunch of his friends out in the courtyard and invited me over to hang out with them. A couple of them were playing guitar and singing which was a cool way to spend my first evening. Most of them were Thai songs, but they eventually busted out with Hotel California which sadly seems to be the universal acoustic jam song. They were all singing at the top of their lungs, which was great for me but probably not for the other guests trying to sleep. I probably met more Americans in Pai than I have during the rest of my trip combined. Lek and John from San Francisco and this dude from Seattle named Rob whom I ended up hanging out with most of the week. Lek and John were same sex marriage #2600 at city hall in SF and it was cool to hear the story about how they had to wait in line for hours and tons of supporters were coming to give them food, coffee, etc.

My first Pai (pronounced pie) adventure came courtesy of Rick's brother in law, a dude named Thip, who does tours of northwest Thailand using offroad motorcycles. You see where this is going. I'm asking all of you nicely not to relay any of this next story back to my grandma. So he's telling me that I can take a 2-day trip with him through the forest and the mountains and up along the Myanmar (aka Burma) border. It seemed like a good idea at the time... I mean I have a motorcycle back home, I know how to ride, how hard can it be? I was thinking, you know, dirt roads and shit. My first warning should've been the morning we were leaving when this monsoon came down and soaked everything. It stopped raining after about an hour and Thip said "no problem." (Side note: activities in Thailand don't let themselves get bogged down in pesky things like liability forms and insurance. Basically, I handed over the cash and he handed over the bike. I'm surprised I got a helmet.) So we take off. Within the first hour I was covered in a combination of mud and sweat, the latter being both from physical exertion and terror. I came to realize that off road means dirt roads, and rocks, and streams, and rocks, and mud, and fields, and more rocks. There was a lot of 45+ degree incline involved. Once you come to terms with the fact that the bike is constantly fishtailing, it gets easier.
Thip was a great guide... for the 3 seconds I could keep him in my field of vision. He kept zipping around corners, up hills, around banks, so that I couldn't see where I was supposed to go. A couple of times I almost got lost. Well, I don't want to make it sound like it was all terrifying. We rode through four hill tribe villages, which was very cool. In one of them we passed by a school where the kids all stopped and waved at us as we passed by. I only remember that because I almost fell off the bike as I tried to wave back. We climbed high up into the mountains of northwest Thailand where there are some spectacular views of the countryside. As we were making one of these climbs, this disturbing amount of white smoke began to flow from Thip's bike's engine. Shit. We barely reached the next village where we had to pull over to look at the damage. Well, I guess technically pulling over would require a road, but you know what I mean. Of course, it now starts to rain again, so we haul Thip's bike under the house of the village doctor. The village was practically empty but Thip managed to borrow some tools from some locals so he could open up the engine. Some sprocket that powered the mechanism to feed the oil had completely lost all its teeth. Thip's bike was toast. 2 of us... 1 bike left... I quickly used my mathematical genius to realize what this meant. The next hour was possibly one of the most physically uncomfortable of my life. There was nowhere safe to sit... the choice was between a constant wedgie or a constant groin pull. Two full grown men are not supposed to fit on a 250cc bike. Did I mention we were still off road? It was also raining, which wasn't so bad because it washed the mud off. We finally reached Mae Hong Son about an hour before dusk where we had some dinner. I felt bad for Thip because he seemed very distraught about his bike. He only has three of them and it costs a lot of money to fix or replace them since everything has to be imported from Japan. So instead of going to a guesthouse I agreed to spend the night at his friend Loei's apartment building where I enjoyed watching the Thai version of Who wants to be a millionaire. It actually turned out to be kind of cool spending the evening with a Thai family. Plus it seemed to make Thip feel better to chatter his frustration away in Thai. The only drawback was that I had to sleep in the toolshed because there wasn't enough room in the house.

The next day we checked out the longneck Karen village nearby, which I didn't dig too much because it was like a zoo. You know the longnecks, the women with all the rings around their neck that makes them unnaturally long. Anyway, it was a weird atmosphere with people staring at them and the villagers trying to get you to buy their stuff, so we left after a few minutes for the long road back to Pai. We took the paved road, which was good, but it took 3 hours, which was bad.

This seemed like a good time to try my first Thai massage, because there were muscles that were sore from the ride that I didn't even know I had. Okay, I'll be honest, I'm not a big fan of the massages, but I figured if I ever needed one it was now. I went to a shop that Thip recommended to me. So, about an hour into the massage the lady goes to me "why you no sleep?" I'm thinking... exactly when was I supposed to be sleeping? When you were digging your thumbs into my groin muscle? Perhaps when your elbow was jammed into the back of my neck? At one point during the massage she was trying to twist me into some supposedly relaxing position (not realizing that I'm the most inflexible human being alive) when she stopped, looked at me and yelled "farang something" in Thai. Then later she tried some weird maneuver on me where my legs were over my head and she climbed up and had her knees into my hamstrings. She slipped and fell and gave me a knee to the midsection. She laughed for two whole minutes. That was my last Thai massage.

The other thing I tried while I was in Pai was Muay Thai kickboxing. Rob found out about this place where you just show up and pay for a day's training. It lasts about two hours, which is enough. I met this artist from SF named Jeff there who had set up a studio in Pai and had been there for 4 months. He's having an exhibition in November at Hang gallery in case anyone's interested in going with me. Oh, and Jeff informed me that Beer Chang contains formaldehyde. I should be quite well-preserved when I get home. Anyway, the gym was a covered outdoor training area and ring in this valley with spectacular views of the surrounding mountains. I ended up going for two sessions and I wish it could've been more.
One of the highlights of my trip to Thailand so far is working on a heavy bag while a monsoon is pouring down rain all around me. There was thunder and lightning and I just had to stop for a minute to soak it all in. Talk about unforgettable memories. The instructors, Birt and Sun, didn't speak any English, but they made themselves understood. They were these two short, stocky, fierce-looking Thai dudes who looked like they'd taken a few elbows to the face. They called me Dep since they couldn't really pronounce Dave. They were fascinated by my chest hair, which I guess is not common among Thais. There were these two kids training with them, and they'd point to my chest and laugh. I think it was because of the hair, anyway. The training was pretty intense for guys having no experience. They put you to work on the bags right away then put you in the ring to practice with an instructor with pads. By my second day I was already learning some kind of spinning elbow strike (wicked!). I now feel like I could hold my own for AT LEAST 30 seconds in the ring with an 11-year-old. Of course, there are some other fond memories from the training, such as:
-Skin rubbed off bottom of both big toes -Bruised and swollen shins -Trembling of the right hand -Bruised and swollen knees -Skinned, bruised, and swollen left elbow Okay, that last one didn't have to do with the kickboxing. It was a result of falling down some stairs at a bar and then falling off a scooter later that night. This was related to my first experience with a Thai "bucket." (Thank you Rob) But that is a story for another time. Maybe Pai wasn't so mellow.
Really, though, I was sad to leave. I can see why people can end up spending so much time there. I was treated like family by the folks at Baan Tawan guesthouse. Thip told me that if I come back to Pai I can stay for free at his house and work with him in the offroad motorcycle business. He offered me 20%.

Rob and I left Pai together and headed back to Chiang Mai. From there he headed south to Ko Tao and I headed north to Chiang Rai. Let me say this about Chiang Rai: If you ever come to Thailand, don't bother. How can I put it... if Chiang Mai is Vegas, then Chiang Rai is Reno. There's nothing to it. I should've known when all the Lonely Planet could say about it is "Ummm... there are some temples!" I think the guesthouse I was staying at was one of those places that people can rent hourly. When I paid the manager for my room he didn't even ask me for my name. The highlight of my day was being propositioned by the middle-aged hooker in room 3. I was hoping to line up a two day trek, but I went to three companies that said I was the only person so far who was interested. Low season, I was told. So I visited the Hill Tribe museum which had a really cool exhibit on the history of opium, but also cured me of any remaining desire I had to go trekking. I felt like I'd learned enough about the tribes without having to be a voyeur.

So I left Chiang Rai as quickly as possible, but where to? I decided to go to Mae Sai, the northernmost city in Thailand, and cross the border into Myanmar (aka Burma). Why not? It seemed like something to do. Plus, I would get the added bonus of being able to begin conversations with "Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Myanmar (aka Burma)?" I'd could sound like J. Peterman! After having done it, though, I wouldn't necessarily recommend going unless it's to renew your Thai visa and/or to buy some really cheap stuff in Myanmar (aka Burma). There's this outdoor market set up just over the border where as soon as you cross you're assaulted by cigarette vendors. You can buy real CDs (from China) for about 2 dollars each. I bought a CD of Cuban music, if only to say that I bought a Cuban music CD when I crossed from Thailand into Myanmar (aka Burma). Doesn't that just sound cool? You get hidden surprises, though. I thought I was getting a 2-CD set of Norah Jones but it turns out only one is hers. If anyone wants Avril Lavigne's latest album, just say the word. Also, you can buy some monkey skulls if you have the urge. I was tempted, but I wasn't sure if I'd have to declare it. I mean, wouldn't it be cool to have a bunch of monkey skulls just so you could serve jello in them and say they're "chilled monkey brains" like in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom?

Well, now I'm back in Chiang Mai for the night and tomorrow I'm flying down to Ko Tao to meet up with Rob. I think I've done enough in the north and now it's time for some island beach and some diving. I hope my next travelogue will be more boring because it'll mean I've been relaxing.

As always, the dude abides,
Dave

A Brief Moment of Introspection....

Hi everybody,

Pictures here:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/dGsYqnhdK5BRZ31a7

If you'd told me 3 years ago that I'd be in Chiang Mai, Thailand to celebrate my 31st birthday, I'd have thought you were insane. Even if you'd told me that last year I wouldn't have believed it. Hey, this isn't a plea for birthday wishes because if you all sent them to me I wouldn't reply to everybody then I'd feel bad about it. Actually, I just wanted to say thanks to all of you. I wouldn't be here without the love and support of my family and friends and I attribute where I am (physically and mentally) as much to all of you as I do to myself.

Okay, enough of that shit and on to the good stuff. Last time I left you I'd just arrived in Perth after a strange adventure across the Nullarbor. I ended up extending my stay by a few days and not flying out until the 6th. I think it was mostly because I couldn't get enough of watching Zak and Ronan play pool. Riveting stuff. For a city that at first glance didn't seem like it had spectacular nightlife how we ended up staying out until 5 something like 3 nights in a row is beyond me. It must have had something to do with Ronan's hypnotic dancing style.
He has a rhythm and grace which can only be described as Treebeard-esque. Zak and I also had a memorable night out with these three Swiss girls we met on the Nullarbor trip and three local dudes. We somehow managed to pile 8 people into one of the guys' tiny car (it might've been a Ford Festiva) and drive around for half an hour looking for some club. It was like a clown car. Perth is actually a very nice city and I had a great time. It's not right on the ocean, but it's built on the Swan River which leads out west to the Indian Ocean. One of the days we took a ferry ride out to Fremantle along the Swan, saw loads of dolphins along the ferry, along with many 50+ million dollar houses along the water. Apparently Perth has the most millionaires of any Australian capitol. I'll never forget that I bought my first pair of designer jeans there. Although I didn't pay a hundred bucks for them (I'm talking to you Kelli). Thank you for the help Roisin, I'll think of you every time I use the jaws of life to take them off.

From Perth I flew in to Singapore, and at the last minute decided to spend a few days there to check it out. I don't know if it was the fact that I was leaving some cool new friends behind, or that I was going to a new country, or the malaria tablets I was taking, or what, but I hated it. The three longest days of my trip, bar none. Singapore is good for those of you who find Los Angeles a bit too rustic.
It's a business district, surrounded by a shopping mall, surrounded by highrises. And it's hot and humid. Woohoo! Wait, it gets better. Jason (this guy I met in the hostel) and I decided to check out the nightlife one night. So we took a cab over to one of the main clubbing/bar roads. When the cab almost hit 4 drunk people walking across the street, we knew we were in the right place. I just wanted a couple of beers, so we looked for someplace that had no cover charge. We found the one (1) place that was free to get in. I went up to the bar and ordered two beers.
The dude pours me two thimblefuls of Carlsberg and says "20 dollars." That was the end of my bar hopping in Singapore. I won't go into detail about my mind-numbing day on Orchard road. I just wanted a pair of tennis shoes. That's all. Some of you know how much I dislike shopping, but this was like my personal hades. It wasn't just one shopping mall, but like 18 of them in a row. On each side of the road.
I felt like I was in Groundhog Day. There are a couple of good things about Singapore though: the food is cheap and good, the coffee is good, and they have very high quality air conditioning. Also, for those dorks like me on this mailing list, I went to see this Lord of the Rings exhibition that had all this behind the scenes shit plus real weapons and costumes. Wicked cool.

You wouldn't believe how much I was looking forward to getting to Thailand. I flew to Bangkok and hopped on another flight to Chiang Mai in the north. So far, I am loving it. I got picked up from the airport in a tuk-tuk, which is like a giant motorized tricycle with a canopy. My first introduction to Thai traffic was like an amusement park ride. There's not really any lanes here, or right of way, or any of that shit that gets in the way when you have to get from point A to point B. There's stoplights, but they're optional. Somehow, though, it all works out. I haven't seen an accident in 5 days. Not like I would drive myself though. Not to get too deep or anything (not that it's possible for me anyway), but it's kind of an allegory for how everything works around here. There aren't a lot of rules, which would make you think it's chaotic, but everything seems to have achieved some sort of balance. So does that make it actually orderly? Wrap your head around that paradox, baby!
See, I educate as well as entertain. Another thing I've discovered is my new favorite beer, Beer Chang. The reason I like it is because the alcohol level is 6.4%, yet it's the cheapest beer in Thailand. I've also heard that 6.4 is the MINIMUM percentage and it could actually go as high as 14%. I was pondering the vicissitudes of variable alcohol beer last night (while drinking 3 Beer Changs) when I realized that you could make an absolute killing importing the stuff and selling it to college students in the US! Of course, the drawback to the strength of the beer is what I've dubbed the Changover. I had a hard time getting up this morning. As for what I've been doing the last few days: Thai Cooking course, my friends. That's right ladies, as if I wasn't irresistible enough, I can now add Thai master chef to the old resume. Tomorrow... vegetable carving. I'll think of all of you as I'm making a rose out of a tomato.

So far, the only person I've had longer than a 5-minute conversation with is the tuk-tuk guy that operates out of my guesthouse named Intha. He's in his mid to late 50s and works driving the tuk-tuk and doing odd jobs around the guesthouse. Actually, I'm not sure how many people work in the guesthouse and how many are just hanging out. There's anywhere between two and seven people hanging out by the outside bar/reception area. Anyway, Intha taught himself English by reading and watching movies. There were 7 kids in his family and since schools in Thailand cost money they couldn't afford to send all of them to school. He's been to Bangkok once and never outside Thailand. He taught me a very valuable lesson: If you're going to get a Thai massage, make sure it's done by an old lady, preferably a blind one.
He said the young girls don't know what they're doing, although they're the ones who are always on the sidewalk trying to get you to go in. Speaking of young girls, Chiang Mai doesn't have the greatest nightlife, but I did see a strip of bars as I was walking around one afternoon and decided to check it out in the evening. As I walked by I started to wonder why there were so many Thai girls sitting either alone or with old white guys. Oh. *Oh*. Sometimes it takes me a while.

I do have to admit that I have discovered an irresistible nighttime activity... the Chiang Mai night bazaar. This one street is lined with vendors which open from 4pm until midnight selling all sorts of clothes, knicknacks, and knockoffs. I suck at haggling. My first interaction with a vendor went something like this:
Me-How much is that shirt?
Vendor-99 baht.
Me-Um, okay.
I can't help it. I think I'm still getting ripped off, but I can't get too fired up about 50 cents. I'm getting loads of those really light cotton shirts that I'm sure I'll never wear when I get home. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm going to put on about 20 lbs before I get home because the food is so cheap. For 100 baht (about $2.50) I got spring rolls, mussel salad, naan bread, and an iced coffee the other night. There's always the danger of getting a gristle stick though, as I did yesterday. Carefully examine all barbecued "meat", that would be my advice to you.

A couple of my other highlights have included eating durian for the first time (yeah, it stinks, but it tastes pretty good) and having a 15 minute conversation with a Thai student who wanted to practice his English. He told me about a few places to check out in the area and kept asking me if I was going to try "lighting bamboo." I couldn't figure out what the hell he was talking about. What is that some sort of firewalking ceremony? Then I figured out he meant *riding* a bamboo raft down the river.

As always, the dude abides.
Dave

I Know It's Been a While...

... since I last wrote but I've been out of commission. I spent some time in the hospital recently to have a dangerous mole removed from my penis. That's the last time I'm shagging one of those! Ha ha ha!!!

Sorry, I couldn't resist that one. My buddy Zack told it to me. That's the kind of shit you get into when you spend 9 days with someone camping across Southern Australia. But more on that later.

Pictures here:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/whnFxFLqRzz239zHA

Last time I wrote I was heading for Alice Springs, smack in the middle of Australia. As the plane descended into "The Alice" the first thing that came to my mind was Needles, California. The only reason I even know about Needles is because it's in the middle of freakin' nowhere. That pretty much sums up Alice Springs as well. It's like being in the middle of Death Valley, except everything is red. I was only there one day before my Uluru tour, so besides enjoying the 100+ degree desert heat I didn't do much. The next day I headed out at 5 AM for a 3-day trip around the red center's most famous natural landmarks: Uluru (Ayers Rock), Kata Tjuta (The Olgas), and Kings Canyon. I have never seen as many sunrises cumulatively in my lifetime as I have the last three weeks. These camping tour guides are like freakin drill sergeants. Our guide was a French expat named David. Most of the three days was spent driving because everything was so damned far away. There were about 20 people on this trip and it's the most Americans I've seen thus far: 6 exchange students on holiday from the University of Queensland. Anyway, probably most of you have seen Uluru from postcards or pictures or whatever, but it's an impressive sight to behold in person. I have to admit that the first thing I thought of when I saw it was that it looked like a giant nipple. I guess if the whole of Australia was a big breast, Uluru could be the nipple. It's right there in the middle, it's round, flat, and reddish brown. Come on, admit it. I could work for the Australian tourism bureau. Anyway, I didn't climb to the top because The Rock is sacred to the three local Aboriginal tribes and they ask that you don't climb it. Since it's controlled by the Australian government, however, you are still allowed to climb.
Three people from the group went ahead and climbed it anyway and the rest of us went on a base walk with David. He's really in with the local Aboriginals so he showed us some of the drawings in the rock, what they meant, and taught us some words in the local dialect. At night we camped out in swags, which are these kind of tent/mattress hybrids made for one person. Like I said earlier, up at 5 the next morning to catch the sunrise at Kata Tjuta. It's a good call for a few reasons: sunrises on these monoliths are spectacular, you beat the crowds from the countless other tours, and you don't get beaten down by the ridiculous desert heat. At sunrise, the rock looks so RED. I had to go up and touch it to make sure it didn't rub off. It's because the rocks have a high ferrous content that makes them more red than normal rock. The number one thing I'll remember from the red center, though, is how beautiful the sky was. You really never hear about that, but it's awesome. It's the biggest sky I've ever seen as you can see the horizon in all directions, and it's a beautiful blue with fluffy flat-bottomed clouds stretching as far as the eye can see. Stunning. The number two thing I'll remember about the red center are all the damned flies. It was unbelievable. Once the sun came up, they swarmed all over you. There was no defense for it. And they were ballsy flies too, not the type that'll go away after just a wave of the hand. I have a picture of my back just covered with the freakin things.

I stayed a couple of days in Alice Springs before taking the Ghan train ride down to Adelaide. If you ever go to Australia, make sure you minimize your time in Alice Springs. There is nothing to do there. The only entertainment I got was from listening to the stories of my roommates in what was possibly the shittiest hostel in Australia. My roommates were a Scottish guy, a Dutch guy, and two Irish girls who were traveling together but had run out of money in Alice Springs. They were working odd jobs to save up to get out of there. The Scottish guy was complaining to me that they were having trouble saving money and it was taking them a long time. Well, maybe if you didn't go through two cases of beer and 5 packs of cigarettes a day you might be able to save a little more you dumbshit. They also decided that the room's kitchen was their personal area so there was some rice and pasta of indeterminate age in the sink that didn't get cleaned the whole time I was there.

I was glad to get moving to Adelaide. The train ride was uneventful. I helped an old lady with her crossword puzzles. That was the highlight. Adelaide was a cool city though. It has a compact city center that is easy to walk around. The hostel I stayed at was run by these two old dudes who served free ice cream and apple pie every evening at 8. There'd be a scrum every night when the apple pie was served... it was like a bunch of little kids. Good pie though. I did a day tour of the Barrossa Valley which is one of the best wine producing regions of Australia. The trip was cool, although as you'd expect there were a couple of poseurs on there who thought they knew everything about wine. They were the ones who ended up passed out on the bus at the end of the day. Our guide Matt has a master's in viticulture and his family owns a vineyard in the valley. It was a really good value as we ended up tasting about 25 different wines. Plus, there was barbecued kangaroo for lunch.
Mmmm.

I don't know where to begin to describe my 9-day camping trip from Adelaide to Perth across the Nullarbor plain, so maybe I'll use bullet points or something.
-There were ten people on the tour: 4 English, 2 Irish, 1 German, 1 Japanese, 1 Swiss, and me.
-Our guide, Jake, looked a lot like Kit. He was tall, gangly, and loped instead of walking. He loves the outdoors, though, and he's a vegan, so maybe he's more like a bizarro version of Kit.
-We travelled a total of 4040 Kilometers, so there was a lot of bus time.
-The natural sights were something incredible to behold. The Great Australian Bight looked like it was a painting. We went swimming in a lake that was in a cave below the Nullarbor plain. We stayed a day and a half at LeGrand national park which had some of the most beautiful white sand beaches I've ever seen. The sand contained so much silica that it squeaked when you walked on it. We got to drive through an area where the rangers were doing a controlled burn at night which was wicked cool. I have shitloads of great pictures.
-The German girl was insane. First, on day 2, she took off her top and tried to flag down an 18-wheeler.
Day 6 she was skinny dipping in the underground lake.
By day 8 she stripped down completely naked at a truck stop because it had a gag sign that said Nudist Crossing and she wanted her picture taken in front of it.
-I mooned truckers twice. The first time was from the front seat of the bus and it was just me. I kind of got into it and was dubbed "the ass slapper" for the rest of the trip. Hey, if you're going to do it, have a good time no? The second time Jake told the truckers on the radio that the German was going to flash them as we drove by, but instead all the guys stuck pulled their pants down and slapped their asses as we went by the trucks. They told me they were just following my example. The truckers were not amused.
-We met an old English ex-biker who's crossing the Nullarbor on a horse and cart with his dog. He fancies himself a "bush poet" and recited some of his poetry for us. It was filthy. I bought one.
-One of the English girls, Sarah, all she did was eat.
She always shoved her way to the front of the food line and didn't lift a hand to help with anything. I dubbed her Ms. Pac Man. Waka waka!
-Bush camping is a really interesting experience. The sunrises are unreal because there's nothing but landscape around you. The worst part is having to take a crap in a dug up hole. Jake insisted that we do everything in the hole because it's less disruptive to the environment. The hole took on a life of its own. After a while, we had some pretty good running jokes about what you're supposed to do in the hole.
-I made really good friends with an English dude named Zack and an Irish couple Ronan and Roisin. We're all staying together at a hostel in Perth. We drank many cases of Tooheys on the trip and probably know more about each other than we should. Zack and Ronan call me The Beast, which is better than ass slapper. Anyway, I've got a place to stay in Leicester, Dublin, and Galway if I need it. Sweet as.
-Zack is a machine. We went up this mountain that was supposed to be a three hour return climb. The rest of us stopped about halfway and then headed back down because we only had an hour and a half to do it. Zack came back fifteen minutes late. He had made it all the way up the mountain and back, met some girls from a tour group, and arranged for us to meet them at a bar in Perth on Saturday night.
-I have a newfound appreciation for the mighty wombat.

I'm sure there's loads of stuff that I'm forgetting but this message is already long enough. I have some unbelievable pictures from this trip which I will definitely post when I get back. Hope everyone's doing well. I'll be in Perth a few more days so I'll try to respond to your messages if I haven't yet.

As always, the dude abides.
Dave