So I had this urge to take a motorbike trip out somewhere.

You know, wind blowing through your hair, the open road, Thai villages, stuff and stuff.  I don’t know.  I didn’t take it much beyond that.  My problem with any sort of trip is, that I have a hard time getting out of bed if it doesn’t involve some girl things.  Also, trips means staying places.  One of my less favorite ways to spend money is on being passed out … as in, I’m paying money for the eight or so hours I’m not even present.  Meeeh.

So I changed the search criteria on Thaifriendly, aka the-place-that-rains-nubile-pussy to 200 miles around Bangkok.  Three-question proven e-mail thingie, and a few hours later I’ve got a free place in a town called Nakhon-something-something.  And what might be a reasonable attractive girl …

*** The Return ***

As I get off the bus, finally back in Bangkok, I notice the red stain that’s begun to spread on the side of my t-shirt.  Apparently the make shift bandage over the gash in my abdomen didn’t quite do it’s job.  A quick mental inventory of the contents of my black garbage bag travel accessory reveals no suitable bandage replacement.  Just a pair of jeans, flip flops, Thai-for-Beginners book, phone charger, tooth brush.

I start walking out of the bus station into the blazing mid day heat.

*** The Beginning ***

Days ago, murky now in my memory, I had left town riding in a nice late model Toyota truck.  There was about $5,000 worth of my paragliding gear in the back, and things were looking promising.  A far cry from the bus ride and …

I’m standing on the edge of the cliff.  Wind is blowing in my face, my heart is racing.  Over my head, actively surging through the air, the huge piece of fabric wing.  It feels alive, like a giant, somewhat unruly bird, ready to take flight.  It’s the very edge of my comfort zone, as I take the step beyond solid ground.

Your body is like an amazing game console.  Limbs everywhere, arms, legs, all kinds of sensory input is available … touch, smell, sight, fear, excitement.  We aren’t born to be sheeple in a cubicle.  We’re born to eat, sleep, fuck, and roam the planet.

Ironically, today more so than ever, options abound.  Every good sized city on the planet has an airport.  Every town can be reached by train, bus, car, or motorbike.  Different climates, elevations, vegetation, cultures.  It’s …

Finally.

I’ve not been super proactive about getting into the flying again.  Originally Bangkok was supposed to be a one-day layover on my way to Nepal, specifically for a paragliding adventure.  Then all that turned into more of an unplanned venture into Thai culture and Thai girls and other stuff for the last four months.  Oops.  No matter what the addicts tell you, paragliding falls squarely under the ‘bad habits that might kill you’ category.  So while sooner or later I end up in the deep end, I’m not usually in a hurry to get there.  Guess I took a detour to find out if Thai girls or motorbikes in Bangkok could kill me first.

Anyway. I brought some expensive gear half way around the world, to not be using it.

The dots finally appear to be connected.  Found the …

Only iPod on this trip, real update after esteemed return of our highness to Bangkok.

Too much stuff happens in a day…

There was the old man English teacher from Cali (living in Thailand for 8 years already) on the night train to Udon, spouting nonsense of why he won’t learn Thai. Get this … if you learn Thai, you’ll become unable to speak English! Yes, your brain will revert to pidgin English because Thai is like the evil language virus that’ll mangle your memory and everything.

No wonder Thais think farang are idiots. Because they are.

That encounter shot a big hole into my plan to be honest for a month. Honestly, how would you ever open your mouth and say anything sincere on this planet filled with English teacher dude?

“If you’re already borderline retarded, I could see …

Since I’m usually either on my way in, or out of a country / city / state, there are a few very common reactions from the locals:

“How long are you staying here?”

That’s an obvious top question.  Unfortunately I have no answer usually (unless I fucking hate the place).  My ruling on staying anywhere is to stay till you’re tired of it.  Once you’ve seen it all, doing the same thing every damn day, and it all becomes routine, it’s time to move on.  You’re only living while you’re having new experiences.

“You’re going to get stuck here, like all of us.”

That’s another common and very fascinating piece of commentary.  Seeing as I’ve made it through 12+ countries and a whole lot of places in those, why would I get ‘stuck’ anywhere in particular?  Along with people often …

Didn’t bring laptop, using iPod for posting (and it kinda works, yea!). Time for real updates after I get back to BKK.

Now in Kopanang, an island in the south of Thailand. Tiny private place right on the beach, 100 Baht per night. Just over $3.

120 Baht per day scooter rental. 50 Baht for decent Thai street food.

Relaxing after long trip to Malaysia for visa run. 1,200 kilometers for $25. Air conditioned train, sleeper bunk car included.

Stories from travelers about Laos and Philippines. Lots more things to go see.

 …

Ok, so Malaysia trip is getting on a week later than originally quasi planned.

Not bringing laptop though, so unless I get all ambitious to post from an ipod touch thing, there might be no new bits for a week or so.  But theeeen there might be good stuff.  Not flying, taking the overnight train … 22 hours.  Border crossings, visa thingies, then a little southern Thailand exploring.  Stories may come of it.

…

The speedo needle is about to hit 110 kmh.

“Living in Bangkok is cheap.  But so is dying in Bangkok.”  Her words echo through my head as we pass a blur of cars on either side of us, barely inches to spare.  I’m holding on to the flimsy rack thing on the back of the scooter.  Most of the scooter taxi things are little 125cc contraptions, but for whatever I reason I ended up on a 250cc beast.  And the guy driving it clearly plays too many death race video games.  I don’t know how to say ‘this is not a video game’ in Thai, nor ‘I’ll double your fee if you drive the speed limit’.

Not that it would matter.  There are eight lanes of traffic, crawling along, and we’re zipping between lanes like our collective heads should be …

My Thai visa is running out.

Granted, that’s not for another 20 or so days, but S. been saying we should hop down to Malaysia.  Considering that Bangkok was supposed to be a layover stop on my way to Nepal, one more course deviation doesn’t feel like a big deal.  That and S. lately has been directing the script, and also he has some kind of plan, which I don’t.  I’m not much the planning type, and all those words, train tickets and visas and stuff sound impressive, thought out, and if I don’t go along with this, I’ll have to do all this figuring myself.  Which sounds … tedious.  Especially since I don’t have my ladyboy assistant yet.

 So the plan, as I haltingly understand, is … take the train to Butterworth, Malaysia.  That ticket is already booked, overnight train, …