March Wrap Up

Expenses in March were $120 more than in February. I had to pay for a visa extension ($65), a bus ticket for a future visa run ($12), and electric ($30), so basic day to day expenses remained at $10 per day. Below is the breakdown :

Daily Average of money Spent - March
	10.75
	10.12
	6.74
	8.14
	4.74
	7.57
	12.02
	0.00
	18.77
	7.27
	12.55
	1.80
	16.20
	7.65
	9.22
	10.45
	7.49
	11.10
	8.05
	6.52
	8.04
$65 - Visa Extension	71.73
	11.21
	18.03
	15.53
	9.32
	10.95
	11.50
	0.00
$12.22 - Bus Ticket for Visa Run	28.49
	6.97
Total Daily Money Spent in March -	$368.92
Daily Average from March 1 - 31
368.92/31 = $11.90 per day
Rent for March - $281.38 (paid on 3/2/12)
Total Money Spent in March - $281.38 + 368.92 = $650.30 My overall experience for the month was positive, as I am getting into better physical condition as I train for the run up Doi Suthep. I am becoming more comfortable in Chiang Mai and I have forged small, but meaningful connections with people and places - the two women at Tops Cafe who make my $1 pad thai lunch; the street side cobbler who I say hello to on occasion; the fruit vendor one block from the Dome where I buy fresh cut pineapple for 30 cents; the people I meet at the fitness park; and hanging out at the Free Bird once or twice a week where I eat a good meal and sometimes speak with Maria. As I read through Nausea, and all of the other books since arriving in Thailand, the events and ideas in my own life are reflected in the stories, giving me an odd sense of synchronicity, but synchronized with what? My ideas about the purpose and reasons for coming to Thailand have become more solid, giving me the confidence to continue. Traveling to places is secondary to the inner journey - wandering, observing, connecting in a way which is unique to my position in time and space. I have no interest in most of the things which tourists do when they come to Chiang Mai, and the fitness park, which is the place I go to everyday, is empty of westerners. I have created a painting of Chiang Mai and I have taken my place inside of it - I will miss it when the time comes to leave.

: all I wanted was to be free.

Woke at dawn, fed the myna birds, and began the long walk to the Arcade Bus Station. I am planning to take the Green Line Bus to Mae Sai on April 21, and decided it would be a good idea to take a test walk to the station, and while there purchase a ticket. The shortest route there is unimpressive, just a slog through a concrete wasteland. On the way a sheep dog saw me and began to follow, at first I thought it wanted a friend, but somehow the dogs of Thailand can smell a farang and it started to bark. As I approached the station I got lost, wandered about in a square, and fell upon the station by chance. I wandered some more inside the station, which was empty, dark, and a bit dusty. I gazed at the Green Line ticket booth, which was closed. I asked the information desk for the hours, and she pointed me across the street to the new station. At the new station I saw the crowded Green Line booth and pulled a que ticket. After a short wait I chose the 6:00 am to Mae Sai, with a return at 15:30. I should have enough time to cross into Myanmar, turn around, and get the 15 day stamp. I am a bit concerned about walking through the wasteland at 4:30am, if things seem a bit creepy I will hop a red truck to the station, if any are roaming about at that hour.

I walked back using the road I entered Chiang Mai on my first day in town. I passed the Pagoda Inn and was struck by how much I have experienced since that day. A few drops of nostalgia sharpened my memory as I crossed the mote and almost got hit by a car because I was examining those memories instead of the light outside of me. Safely back in the old part of town I decided to stop at the Free Bird for an early lunch. Before arriving I passed a shop which sold handmade books, and I decided to pay 100 baht for one. After I placed it in my bag and began walking, I wondered why I needed the book, as it was just going to take up space in my pack when I am on the road. When I arrived at the Free Bird it was 9:15am, and since they do not open until 9:30 I walked to Wat Chiang Man a couple blocks away and sat on a bench near the elephant chedi. I took the book out of my bag and decided that I would use it to write down my impressions of things. I began to write :

Bus Station

Slanted morning light

mixed with dust

and charcoal smoke

follows me in the street.

Wandering, in search of

the Arcade bus depot,

my body strengthened

as the hazy red ball of

fire in the sky

erases the memories

of dream and sleep.

Three puppies refuse to ignore

my loping presence,

with trepidation approach,

their tongues extracting

the sweat of my skin.

Lanky, crooked buildings

with garish pinks and

blues lead me forward,

crossing the Ping River,

the buses looming, sleepy faces

pressed on darkened windows.

In the quiet, green shade

of the station, a pretty girl sits

gazing out into the brightness

as the toilet attendant,

bent over and tired,

watches us.

When I finished writing I walked to the Free Bird. The two Burmese girls who work there greeted me and after ordering green curry with brown rice and a pineapple shake I picked up one of their guitars and noticed someone had tuned it well. I began to play for a few minutes, and when I was satisfied I read a bit of Nausea. Someone walked in and I heard her speaking to me, I looked up and saw that it was the owner of the Free Bird, Lisa. This was the first time I had spoken to her, and she complimented me on my playing. I told her when I leave Chiang Mai next month I will be donating my guitar to the Free Bird. This led to a friendly conversation, and she sat at my table and I was spell bound by all of things which she shared.

When she got up to leave I realized that I had just spoken with a great humanitarian. I ate my meal in silent reflection, thinking of the wonderful and horrible things of which she spoke. Maria then entered the cafe, smiled, her face bright and magnetic, and said hello. Somehow we got into a conversation and she too sat down and we talked of various things. I found myself in hyper listening mode, something which Rachel would have been proud of. Spending numerous days with no human interaction makes the rare times when it occurs special and intense. I discovered that Maria is a runner and is training for her first marathon. She asked me if I had read the book Born to Run, and when I told her yes, mentioned that I loved running in nature and had run a few long distance events in recent years. I described my 50 mile experience, the heavy, sweet euphoria the reward for having run from sun up to sun down. I mentioned that before leaving Chiang Mai I planned to run up the mountain to Wat Doi Suthep. She seemed surprised, and after reflecting for a few moments told me it was a great idea, and now she too wanted to do this. I smiled, pleased that I had planted a cool running idea into her consciousness.

We covered other topics, and as we talked I was aware that without trying, or even desiring it, I was beginning to slowly connect with someone. I can sever this connection easily enough, simply by no longer showing up at the Free Bird, but do I want to? My goal is to wander free, but I am not in a blank universe, a ghost spirit who is unable to break the glassy ether - I am part of this world, and when something good arrives I will accept it. The simple connection I have with Maria warms my heart, and I find it to be as beautiful and sublime as the light which steeps the world in infinite color. Sometimes when I am floating through the streets, high on beauty and freedom, I wonder, why her? Is it a male/female attraction, or something else? I listen for the answer and my inside vibrates - a long, harmonious, ringing chord. This melodic harmony is the strongest thing I can feel for someone, and may be a clue of social deficiency because I rarely feel it for people. I sometimes wonder if the people I feel it for experience something similar - if they do not it would appear this harmony is not directly connected to their life, but rather just an idea I have about them. Then I wonder if there is anything I am supposed to do.

When I left the Free Bird there was a lot for me to ponder, and the walk home went quickly. I turned into a small alley a quarter mile from the Dome. One of the shacks in this alley is home to Vincent van Gogh, who is alive and well and residing in Chiang Mai. I gazed at his paintings hanging in the deep shadows of his tin shack - bright iris flowers in a yellow vase, a field with crows, boats on a shore, and the most startling, one of his early paintings when he was living in The Hague, passersby in a dark morning storm.

As I walked away from the tin shack, not having seen the painter of these masterpieces, I thought about Nausea - when something important happens to me, I read about it in the book the next day or week. An example from today's reading at the Free Bird : "The past is a landlord's luxury. Where shall I keep mine? You don't put your past in your pocket; you have to have a house. I have only my body : a man entirely alone, with his lonely body, cannot indulge in memories; they pass through him. I shouldn't complain : all I wanted was to be free."

When I got home I was surprised to be full of energy. After having walked 7 miles across a desolate stretch of town, written an impression, conversed deeply with two people, and gazed at the paintings of Vincent van Gogh, I was expecting to be ready for a nap. Not about to complain for feeling vital and healthy, I put on my running shoes and went to the fitness park at high noon, readying for another bout of heat training. I was able to go 53 minutes with a hard effort at the end, soaking myself in the sprinklers every 2 loops.

Fitness Park

Last week Maria asked what I liked best about Chiang Mai. It did not take me long to reply that the fitness park was my favorite place to be for running and walking. Today during my walk I made some photos of the place. There is a small 150m oval with exercise equipment, beyond that is the Convention Center grounds, which is open to the public. All of my recent runs have been around the grounds, which is about 800m.

The 3 runs I have done this week have been my best yet. One of the days I ran in the early afternoon heat, jumping into the sprinklers after every loop. I did a mid-afternoon run the previous week but lasted only 30 minutes, but this time I was able to go for 55, with a strong finish. My easy run yesterday was also good, I thought I would be fatigued from the prior heat run but everything felt great and I ended up going for 45 minutes, with the final 800m run at top speed.

On the off days I walk to the fitness park and do exercises - pull ups, push ups, sit ups, leg presses. When I started my training regime 2 months ago I was doing 2-4 sets, and I have now worked up to 8-10.

Because of the increase in time and intensity of exercise, I have needed to also increase my caloric intake, so some days I will eat a second meal in the evening if I am feeling the need for it. I have lost 8-10 pounds since arriving in Chiang Mai, making running a whole lot easier.

Freedom and the Absurdity of Time

Lately I have become aware that how I am presently living my life is what I had yearned for after getting out of high school. During the long period of public schooling I did not give much thought to what life could be because I felt trapped in a system which offered no way of escape. People who knew me said it was only a matter of time before I dropped out because of how unhappy I was. But dropping out did not enter my thoughts because I felt things would only get worse if I chose that. The day I graduated I felt a lightness in my spirit, and a sense of freedom that was exhilarating. That feeling did not last long because I was soon required to find a summer job to pay for college. I ended up working maintenance in a factory, even though I had no skills in fixing things, and had no interest in learning. I took the job because the alternative was working at Taco Bell, and the thought of seeing an endless line of faces made me cringe.

The three months I spent at the factory were unlike anything I had experienced before or since. I was unaccustomed to standing and walking for 8 hours, and with my job having no set routine I was left to myself to find things to do. I dusted, I swept, I moved things, I even raked the pebbles on the lunch grounds into patterns resembling a Zen rock garden, even though at that time I was unaware of Zen.

Two peculiar things attached themselves to me during the first week. One was the awful sense that I had been duped - was this the reason I had endured 13 years of public schooling? I knew that there were other jobs available, but what struck me was that the factory was a place which displayed most of the jobs available in other places - manual labor, administrative, technical/scientific, finance, and executive. I could change the place of employment but I knew it would be pretty much the same - 8 hours wasted doing the bidding of others. I could sense a vision inside of me, but it was unclear, I could only feel that there was a better way to live, and it was possible, but I did not know how to find and get to it. The other thing which became a part of me was the awful sensation of time. The one thing I liked about school was the reading and writing, and the chance to use these skills in a creative way. Having this sense of joy was what kept me from dropping out, and it also created a sense of time flow. At the factory there was no reading or writing, and the thing which I was charged to do, maintenance, had a creative side, but I so loathed it that I refused to give it any thought. The disinterest and hatred for my assigned task created a time vacuum which extended my sense of it to an outer limit which was completely at odds with flow. Time - the hours, minutes, and seconds, became heavy objects which were difficult to move. When I arrived in the morning and stepped out of my truck, I could feel this heaviness wrapping itself tightly around my thoughts. The moment I stamped my time card each individual minute became an enemy, a warrior set in my path who had to be fought and overcome. One hour later I would be fatigued from the fight, which made the future minutes grow stronger, longer, more determined than ever to glue me to their side, making it difficult to advance to the next one. I had never experienced time in this way before, and it was truly an awful way to experience life. When a day would finally close out I would ride home feeling battered and numb.

These two things, being played for a sucker, and the absurdly long duration of a single day, muted my inner life, beat it senseless, making the light inside my heart flee. I became aware as I lay in bed each night that I could no longer feel with my heart, that I had been reduced to a soulless machine. I would lay stiffly on my back, looking at the vague, murky outline of the walls. I refused to move, and I would sleep without a stir, waking in the same position which I started in.

Since I have been living here in Chiang Mai, I sometimes recall the days at the factory, specifically the sense that there was something out there for me, but I did not know what it was or where to look for it. Lately there have been moments where I feel a sense of supreme happiness, the result of having found the vision, it becoming clear and blindingly bright - the vision being this : to live, to be happy, all I need to do is wander about under the light of the sun, observing the immense beauty contained in each passing moment. That all I really want out of life is the freedom to do this, and this freedom is what is most hard to come by. As a child, the freedom comes in slight nuances of time and color - summer vacations and weekends, nights in bed, wandering the neighborhood in late afternoons after school. When school no longer is the slave driver, employment takes its place. The vision of freedom is the two week vacation, the weekend, the nights in bed, wandering the neighborhood in the late afternoons.

I take what is given to me. It appears that all I can have are these stolen moments of freedom. What is important is to recognize the vision of this freedom, to not squander it, allowing it to grow. The main purpose of this trip has nothing to do with "travel". It is instead to wander about under the sun in complete freedom. I can do this anywhere - Chiang Mai, Bali, Italy, Urbana. But freedom from what? I want to be an autonomous, self-contained universe. During the past two months I have come closer to this sublime freedom than ever before.

Wandering

I am beginning to feel more comfortable in Chiang Mai, sometimes I catch myself thinking it is home. I feel a sense of safety enveloping me, just as I did in Chicago and Urbana, an inner map directing me to places of beauty and comfort. I prefer this security of knowing to the sense of newness and fear which overwhelm me when embarking on a journey to a fresh place. While meeting a new place or person is exciting, and brings with it a riddling sense of fate, it is the middle ground of a developed relationship which I find to be most enlightening. Deciding to stay in Chiang Mai for 3 months was a good choice because that amount of time allowed me to become a small part of its existence, altering it in a tiny, yet meaningful way.

Leaving won't be easy, yet I am looking forward to striking out anew, and yesterday I decided upon a 3 weeks stay in Bali beginning May 4th. I will need to do a border run to Myanmar on April 21, extending my stay in Thailand for 15 days. On April 30 I will leave The Dome and take the train back to Bangkok, where I will stay in a nice hotel for a few days, and then board an Air Asia flight to Denpasar on the 4th. Three weeks later I will return to Bangkok and take a bus down to Ko Chang for a few weeks. After 3 months in a city, hanging out on some islands for a couple of months will be a nice change of pace.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My training has been progressing steadily upward. This week I had some lackluster runs, probably due to the 90 minute slog I did at the beginning of the week, it took a few days to recover my energy and strength from the effort. On Thursday I went to the fitness park at noon, wanting to feel the intense heat, and with the idea of soaking myself in the sprinklers after each half mile loop. It was a lot of fun, but I had to stop after 30 minutes due to the heat sapping off my energy. Today I plan to go to the fitness park in the late afternoon, I feel I am ready to pop off a strong effort, looking forward to it!

Nausea at the Chiang Mai Immigration Office

I woke before the sun rose and soon after was on my way to the Immigration office. Before the pinks and oranges of dawn began to color the empty streets, I saw a rat and two cock roaches finishing up the business of the fast fading night. I stopped to make photographs when I saw something interesting. When I observed the sun suspended in the muggy haze I hastened my pace and arrived at the visa office at 7:30am, quiet faces greeting me with sour looks. I asked a fellow sitting next to the locked door where the sign up form was and he pointed to a sheet of paper on an air conditioning unit. I was #23, #1 having arrived at 4:00am.

I stood near the building and watched a middle aged man in cowboy boots speaking endlessly to an elderly man. I had the impression that the two had just met. I marveled at his confidence to always find something to say, sharing an endless stream of thoughts for over 30 minutes. It is not that I don't have thoughts to share, although, that is not entirely true. When I transferred myself into his cowboy boots, facing the elderly man, my mind shut down and all I could do was look up into the pinkish, gritty sky. The conversation would not have progressed beyond a simple hello. I thought about my writing, and this journal, and was convinced that I do have an occasional thought, idea or impression. Are these thoughts fit to be shared with someone else? Perhaps not, my ideas usually not in the realm of common experience. In the unlikely circumstance of being with someone who runs parallel to me, I would most likely look up into the sky, saying nothing.

At 8:30 the office opened and I took a seat in the back, next to a young Malaysian couple and two German men. I took Nausea out of my backpack and began to read :

"A gas lamp glowed. I thought the lamplighter had already passed. The children watch for him because he gives the signal for them to go home. But it was only a last ray of the setting sun. The sky was still clear, but the earth was bathed in shadow. The crowd was dispersing, you could distinctly hear the death rattle of the sea. A young woman, leaning with both hands on the balustrade, raised her blue face towards the sky, barred in black by lipstick. For a moment I wondered if I were not going to love humanity. But, after all, it was their Sunday, not mine.

The first light to go on was that of the lighthouse on the Ile Caillebotte; a little boy stopped near me and murmured in ecstasy, 'Oh, the lighthouse!'

Then I felt my heart swell with a great feeling of adventure."

I closed the book and was aware that my heart was beating faster than normal. I was a bit anxious, waiting for my number to be called, wondering if I had everything needed. I sipped on a water bottle and watched the tote boards at the front of the room. The man in the cowboy boots was the first to be called to counter 1. He smiled confidently as he handed over his passport and paperwork. I was next to be called and after turning in my materials was told to take a seat and wait to be called again. A few minutes later the cowboy was back at counter 1, his confidence replaced with a nervous twittering. He disappeared, returned, and then began to complain that the rules were not written clearly, he had done everything correctly, it was the immigration bureaucrats who were to blame for the mistake. He sat down next to a lovely blond German woman and began to speak, once again sharing his thoughts, evidently as numerous as water drops in a river. I sat quietly in my chair, watching, listening. I was glad the man in cowboy boots was not sitting next to me.

Surprisingly I was called before the cowboy - I admit to feeling a bit smart, the mute beats the chatterbox, how does that happen? - I collected my passport, a bright, new stamp inside, plugged into my ipod, and began moving in rhythm through the warm morning light.

Rain

Two days ago a rain storm was pushed into Chiang Mai. The sun was slipping behind the mountains when the wind began blowing things around and the dark clouds threw heavy shadows onto the city. I lost power in my apartment for a few hours so I lay in bed under the mosquito net listening to the sirens and the wind and the pop pop of the rain until I fell asleep. Whatever smog was in the city was cleared out and it has been a good week for lack of smog.

I took two days off from running and this morning I got out the door for a long run just before the sunrise. When I arrived at the fitness park I heard a loud singing/banging/rasping sound - it was locusts and possible other insects, but they sound different from the locusts back in the states. I was confused at first and thought maybe a car was driving around in the dark with its engine on the brink of destruction. It reminded me of being inside a factory with the incessant rumbling of heavy machinery. Once the sun got into the sky the sounds vanished and all was quiet.

My goal for the run was to reach 80 minutes, and I ended up with 90, with the last 20 minutes run at a hard pace. My legs were strong, breathing good, and energy above average, so it was one of my better work outs. I believe I have reached the minimum fitness required to attempt a run up the mountain, but I will continue to run for another month before I do it.

Songkran Festival begins on April 13, and I plan to do a 2 hour long run that day in the late morning heat because many people will be spraying passersby with water - I am looking forward to running along the mote with a continuous stream of cooling water being splashed upon me!

Hanging at the Free Bird

The Free Bird is open again, and I was happy to walk there today, eating my favorite of red curry soup with brown rice, fruit salad with home made yogurt, honey, and muesli, and a passion fruit shake. I spoke with Maria briefly and found out her grandfather had died, so she returned to the states to be with her family. The cafe was broken into for a second time while she was gone, so I hope their luck soon changes for the better.

The fitter I get, the more fun running becomes because I have more options with what I want to do on any given day. Today I ran to the Muni and ran 300's for 20 minutes. Two days ago I was at the fitness park doing half loops at full speed. I think I may take 2 days off and then attack with a long run of 80-85 minutes. I am tempted to run 1/2 way up the mountain, but I enjoyed doing fitness park loops for the 71 minute run, so I will most likely end up there again.

The last two days the smog cleared, what a relief! The smog is toxic - burning eyes, tightness in the head, and who knows what the lungs are doing with it. Oh well, that is life in a 3rd world country.

Wat Chedi Luang

Smog and Nausea

Urbana, 2011

Staying indoors due to smog, I worked on a photo From October, 2011

Chiang Mai is currently enveloped in a thick haze of polluted smog. The past couple of days were so bad that I decided to stay indoors. I wanted to run this morning but when I looked out from the balcony I could not see the mountain. On the heavy days my eyes burn. I am surprised that I have had no asthma, rather, my breathing has been clean and strong. I have decided that having cats and a dog were the cause of my constant asthma and breathing problems, so the rest of my days will have to be lived without these sweet animals.

Because of the unhealthy atmospheric conditions I was thinking of getting out of Chiang Mai for one or two weeks and heading south to an island. Also in the back of my mind is the passage from Nausea about adventure - I have an impish desire to board a train to see where it will take me. The drawback to leaving, however, is I already paid for the apartment for the month of March. Perhaps I will remain in my room and experience adventures inside my head. There are so many possibilities for growth and learning, as long as I am open to it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The past few weeks I have made good progress with the guitar, and I am not sure why or how. I consider myself lucky in some things, one of them being that if I work at something consistently, progress is usually accomplished, and after a few years the "doors of perception" are opened further and I can glimpse the activity on a deeper level. I believe one of the doors has recently been opened and the guitar is once again something new and bewildering, but unlike when I began these sensations are not from a feeling of ignorance, but rather a heightened awareness of my relationship with it. It is one of the more pleasing things about life, this getting to know something on a deeper level.

This is the point of the guitar quest which I have been waiting for, the reason I began this journal - how did I arrive, and what did I do to make it happen? The journal over time gives a detailed explanation of my practice methods, hopes, setbacks, and perseverance in the midst of doubt and confusion. Once again, part of it is just luck, I can't explain why all of a sudden I can do things I could not do a few months ago. I recall reading interviews with people who saw more deeply into their activity than most, and even they have no explanation as to how they got there. Bobby Fischer was asked how he became a grandmaster at 13, and he replied, "I just got good." That being said, I remain a beginner and when compared to other guitarists am very poor, but, I have gone further than what I thought possible, and I can't precisely say why.

Smoke and Nausea

I can't recall the exact date when I began restricting my meals to before the noon hour, but thus far there have been two days where I needed a small meal in the evening due to a caloric deficit caused by extended exercise. I recently walked to the Wat Saun Dok cafe and wore my jeans t0 protect my legs from mosquito's, and I had to use the final notch on the belt to hold them up, so the fat is slowly evaporating.

Two days ago I ran 71 minutes at the fitness park, doing loops around the grounds. I was running easy most of the run, but the final 15 minutes I pushed until exhaustion. This was the longest run so far, I am beginning to feel fit. During the run I saw 4 large, beautiful birds with a white crest.

When I got home I stood on the balcony and saw plumes of black smoke swirling into the hot, sticky sky. The next morning I walked to the fitness park and on the way saw a burned out building which previously had been standing, now it was a pile of ash and rubble.

I was supposed to run today but my legs feel fatigued from the last workout so I stayed inside and relaxed. Reading through Nausea, I happen upon passages that I find to be not only beautifully poetic, but the content aligns peculiarly with my own orbit of present experience :

-- "it must be such an upheaval. If I were ever to go on a trip, I think I should make written notes of the slightest traits of my character before leaving, so that when I returned I would be able to compare what I was and what I had become."

-- "When I've finished my instruction I shall join, if I am permitted, the group of students and professors who take an annual cruise to the Near East. I should like to make some new acquaintances. To speak frankly, I would also like something unexpected to happen to me, something new, adventures."

He has lowered his voice and his face has taken on a roguish look.

"What sort of adventures?" I ask him, astonished.

"All sorts, Monsieur. Getting on the wrong train. Stopping in an unknown city. Losing your briefcase, being arrested by mistake, spending the night in prison. Monsieur, I believed the word adventure could be defined : an event out of the ordinary without being necessarily extraordinary. "

-- "I put out the Self-Taught Man after filling his pockets with post cards, prints and photos. He left enchanted and I switched off the light. I am alone now. Not quite alone. Hovering in front of me is still this idea. It has rolled itself into a ball, it stays there like a large cat; it explains nothing, it does not move, and contents itself with saying no. No, I haven't had any adventures."