The last few weeks in Bangkok has been one massive headache, fueled by anxiety and mounting frustration with the political strife permeating every corner of Thailand.

Bangkok’s political struggle and its major players, the People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD) which overthrew Thaksin Shinwatra’s government in 2006, and  the People Power Party (PPP) which took office after the collapse of the military rule. In the past weeks, demonstrations has escalated as PAD occupying the Government House has moved onto Bangkok’s international airport, Suvarnabhumi, and domestic airport, Don Muang.

Among the issues were allegations of corruption and and tax evasion, leveled against Thaksin and his current “proxy” government. Thaksin’s populist economic polices and attempts at decentralizing power was challenged by the PAD as it was not in line with the status quo. Thaksin is widely, and deeply, supported by the rural Thais because of his policies to reduce health care costs for lower class and affordable business loans. The World Bank estimates are that during Thaksin’s tenure poverty fell from 21.3 percent in 2001 to 11.3 percent in 2004, and farming incomes rose by around 40 percent. PAD consists mostly of businessmen, intellectuals, academics, and activists who are mainly from Bangkok, where the urban and “old” elites reside.

The PAD are arguing for electoral reform, which in essence would restrict national suffrage to those who are educated and informed. This would mean that 70 percent of the population would be left without the right to vote, and power would be transferred to an assembly which would appoint judges and furthermore, that MPs be elected on the basis of occupation and rank.

Following the seige of the Government House in August 2008, the PAD took it’s fighting power to the grouds of Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport and soon after, Don Muang. The sit-in protest brought Bangkok to its knee, stranding thousands of travellers and costing millions of dollars in its aftermath. This move to topple the government was rather strategic and proven to be quite effective. While the international community admonished such disruption and inconvenience to its foreign nationals, they were reluctant to get involed in “domestic issues. ” Each day that the PAD occupied the airports, the deeper the frustration and uncertainty of the future of Thailand’s democracy.

The PAD friendly Constitutional Court had to forge a face-saving exit for the PAD and expedited the trial against the PPP for electoral fraud, which then issued a ruling against the PPP on Tuesday, November 2, 2008. The Constitutiona Court, in a predictable move, ordered the disbandment of the ruling party and several members of the cabinet ministry from entering politics for 5 years. However, Reuters reports:

Whatever the final opening date, Thailand looks set to remain politically riven and chaotic for much longer.

Dissolution of the ruling People Power Party (PPP) will heal none of the basic rifts between Bangkok’s royalist elite and middle classes, who despise ousted and exiled leader Thaksin Shinawatra, and the urban poor and rural masses who love him and continue to vote his allies into office.

Reuters also noted that despite the changes, the disbanded party is still in charge.

Even though Prime Minister Somchai Wongsawat — Thaksin’s brother-in-law — and several cabinet ministers were banned by Tuesday’s court ruling, most MPs have survived and simply switched to a new “shell” party.

Parliamentary numbers suggest they have a comfortable majority, and acting Prime Minister Chavarat Charnvirakul said parliament would convene on December 8 to select a new prime minister, the third in as many months.

Plummeting tourism and the looming global recession will inevitably affect Thailand in 2009. As the world buckles down for the ominous recession, the political chaos in Thailand may be a disincentive to travel to the Land of Smiles.

This is a fantastic venue to take your family and friends to if they are passing through Bangkok, Thailand and want to sample some exquisite Thai dining while watcing a Thai dance. The Oriental has a long history of providing the hi-so of Bangkok with fine cuisines, incomparable services and hospitality, so their latest refurbishment of the Sala Rim Naam Restaurant is no exception.

From the moment you walk through the door you can sense the palpable history, texture, and uniqueness of the hotel. No details lost on the staff and the presentation.

We arrived for a 7 p.m. show and dinner, expecting it to be a slow evening as it was Sunday evening and the dark clouds were looming overhead. To my surprise, and the surprise of my companions Steve, Michelle, and Gary, the place was packed with hungry patrons eager to partake in the festivities.

We were seated at the best table in the restaurant so that our view of the show was not obstructed in the slightest with much gratitude to the general manager. The staff brought out the house wine, which was not a mere average house wine as it was a Kingston 2005 Australian Merlot that was quaint-essential in its fruity and clean taste. The wine was complimented with roast duck dumplings and a fish mousse with a tangy sauce on the side. The fish mousse was fresh, yet spiced just enough for the palate to enjoy without leaving too strong of an after-taste. It complimented the roast duck and did not overpower the subtle aroma of the meat.

The next course was a combination of a beef musaman, fish soup, fresh stir-fry vegetables, and fragrant jasmine rice on a plate of fried shrimp. At onset we were uncertain whether this combination of curry and onslaught of fish and shrimp would negate the taste senses to overdrive, but much to our surprise, it was a keen choice of spices and delectable, complimentary dishes.

Moving onto a dessert of fresh fruits and coconut ice cream with mung beans, we were refreshed and rejuvenated by the Thai dancers as they eloquently express their love story through their subtle body movements and the assistance of the musicians. It was a lovely depiction of a love story of ancient time wherein the dancers user facial expression and the slight movements of their hands to suggest the dialogue and communication.

At the end of the evening, the boat picked us up and returned us across the river to the Oriental Hotel. This memorable excursion should be experienced as an evening package of cultural entertainment, sublime food and wine, and always with good companions. Thanks to Steve and Michelle for inviting us!

After walking nearly a mile in wildly humid weather and navigating through exhaustive traffic, I was keen to reach my destination and relax with a cup of coffee before my Thai tutor berate me for not studying, again. This was the conversation I overheard while sipping my coffee.

Intro: Male in mid forties, semi balding, quite articulate, and was moving his hands about as he was talking, an obvious American trait. Female in mid forties, long hair, broken English, Thai national, and was quiet most of the time. This was what transpired.

Lets call them Bob and Pai.

Bob: I went through my last relationship and I gave her everything she wanted. I was devoted to her, provided her with adoration and attention. It didn’t work out. I don’t want a woman like that anymore. I’m here for 19 days and I want to meet someone and there’s a real potential that if it works out, she could be on her way to America. You know anyone like this I can meet?

Pai: I have a friend. She speaks English.

Bob: (He moves in closer to Pai.) You do??? How old is she? Does she have any kids? Does she speak English? What is she like? So she’s your friend?

Pai: Yes.

Bob: I’m here to have eye surgery, probably happen in a few days and I’m meeting with the doctors to talk about it. I have this eye problem. Your friend lives nearby? Does she live near you? Is she like you? She doesn’t have kids?

Pai: She no live close. She live other side. No kids.

Bob: Well, I’ve only been here a few days but I talked to an attorney here about starting a business and all, it’s possible that this could be a long term thing. You friend could be on her way to the States. Do you have her phone number? Does she have a cell phone? How about if you call her? I want to meet her and get to know her before taking it too seriously. I could do business here. If not, I hear that Thai Air has a great flying program so flights between Bangkok and New York are reasonable. I could come back and forth until I start my business. I’m tired of women that are not responsive to what I need. I don’t like women that take so much from you and give you nothing back. Your friend been married before? Does she have kids? Does she have a cell phone?

Pai: No, no kids.

Bob: How old is she? I don’t mind. Maybe I should take you to the Metropolis bar.

Pai: Where is that place, Metropolis?

Bob: It’s my hotel. They have a great bar there. You would like it. You can invite your friend so we can meet there. I only have 19 days before I leave and you have her cell number? I want to meet her. You know the Metropolis hotel?

Pai: I ask her. I have to go now, appointment soon. We talk again.

Bob: Ok. I walk you out. You will arrange meeting? I go with you.

THE END

Recoverd from the virus and was attacked by a foreign stomach ailment immediately after. Am I doomed to suffer the agony of malaria next? Are my small nephews sabotaging my meals in their futile attempt to remove me from their residence? On the bright side, at least I lost 4 lbs. since coming here, an attribution I place on the Thai diet wherein I remove fries, hamburgers, and Mexican food from the table. I’m still hopeful that McDonald’s will catch on and open the Chipotle chain here any day now. I love McDonald’s version of the fresh and spicy burrito. In case you are misled, I read Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser. Many have commented that sarcasm does not transcend via internet.

After surrendering my psyche to nothing but reading, eating, sleeping, and lounging by the pool, I committed the ultimate holiday sin - I inquired about compensable work!! This easing into living in Bangkok has taken its toll and the thought of infinite time unspent on logical and reasoned analysis and renumeration has made me indignant. Whilst many would prefer to have this lifestyle, I’m fast approaching cabin fever and started inquiring with a few firms regarding potential employment. Perhaps after grinding away 60 hours a week will afford me the appreciation of my lazy days.

In all reality, the last two months has not gone without emails and inquiries from a few colleagues and clients alike. My work was never completely wrapped when I boarded the flight to Bangkok, however, in this line of work, it truly is impossible to accomplish such task in a few months. While the residual work is dwindling, the next chapter is about to began.

While normally I have trepidation writing about issues related to my profession, the advocacy process has come to fruition and education is the final stage of this process, in order to galvinize the public to form a collective voice. If you’re interested in reading about it, it’s aptly named SSAD.ORG.

Arrived in Thailand with little hassle but once I dropped my bags in my new home I was knocked out for three days with some sort of virus. After three days of insufferable high temperature and fatigue, I was finally able to crawl out of the apartment to get some sun and fun on the beach of Phattaya. Not one to point out coincidences, but it was also the weekend that two Russian women were found shot to death in the early hours on the popular Jomtien beach. Shockingly tragic that two women on a two week holiday would be found in such a gruesome murder just two days before their departure. Some are speculating that it was a hit by a foreign gang, however, police have captured the suspect in question with a full confession and reenactment of how the killing took place. That’s the interesting legal process of Thailand, once they have arrested the suspect, they then have them demonstrate how the crime was committed so to answer any lingering doubts about how it had transpired. Strange that is, yet making perfect sense.

Soon after returning from Phattaya, we decided to go to our next paradise beach, Bali. You have to remember that I have been yearning to visit this beautiful mystical place for 10 years now and have neglected to do so due to the two horrific bombings and recent Muslim insurgencies. Politically unstable and uncertain about the negative sentiment toward westerners, I have been putting off this trip for quite a while. Prevailing at the end were determination and cheap tickets, which resulted in me taking the plunge and booking a two week holiday in Bali.

Bali was fantastic, despite the dirty beaches and crowded, uneven sidewalks. Not surprising that it is a haven for Australians on short holidays and popular package tours for the Japanese and Taiwanese. While we were told that this was low season, meaning fewer tourists and cheaper hotel rooms, we were not disappointed.

The beaches were somewhat disappointing as I’ve long thought that they were pristine and white as the powdery stuff usually found in some beaches in Thailand and Boracay in the Philippines. Tried not to be deterred by the brown beaches, we decided to find some meaningful relaxation and pool time. The hotel was extraordinary as we were treated with the utmost care and courtesy. We did a lot of sightseeing in Lovina (northern tip of the island) and Ubud (more central but an art lover’s dream), but stayed mostly in Kuta for some sun and sand and fresh seafood. As I didn’t have access to a computer (I left my laptop at home as we thought it might be too much hassle) I started my journal and detailed all the little things we did. It got quite arduous as I’m still trying to complete the journal on Bali! It is what it saids, an island of temples. According to certain historical experts in Balinese culture, every family must have a temple where they live, and if two families should reside together, then either a bigger temple must be erected or two instead of one. Fascinating was the temple umbrellas that come in many different vibrant colors but each have the same structure for its functionality. Temples everywhere!

Ubud was the highlight of the trip. Art galleries to suit any impressionist, abstract, modern art lover. The detail of each piece can be appreciated by true artists and amateurs alike. Astounding to see so many intricate and complex pieces sitting side by side next to ubiquitious galleries throughout Ubud. We will definitely return to this little art heaven in the future and purchase some for our humble bode.

What can I say about Kuta, Bali? Lots of booze, which I hardly perused, and lots of lovely, friendly people. The island is rich in culture and history and one only need to scratch the surface to find the infinite undulation of arts and crafts unique to Bali. We did partake in the local Brembali wine, made mostly in Bali and obviously made for the Balinese palate. It’s complexity was only surpassed by its coarse and unrefined texture. While we enjoyed the contrast, we made note to self that Bali was not where we wanted to buy our wine from. On the contrary, Arak is a liquor that we will most definitely introduce to our friends in our own concoction of what is only known, aptly so, as an Arak Attack.

Got back from Bali and realized we still have another 2 weeks so we took off to Koh Samet, a pretty beach resort about two hours or so from Bangkok. It was crowded and pricey but the sand was white and the sea was turqoise. Can’t really complain as it was another beach with more time on our hands. Yes, it is hard beaching.

It’s come to that time where you have to face the music and do the inevitable “hasta la vista.” Like most average people, I dread the solemn emotions and the tortuous act of demonstrative affection. While deep in my heart I am heartbroken over the idea of not seeing these people for an extended period of time, I am quite distracted by the enormity of my upcoming travels. To be blunt, I have no time for trivial moments of pathetically inadequate goodbyes. There are places that I can’t even pronouced that I need to visit and pay homage to and have not done nearly enough research in preparation.

I truly love some of the friends I’m leaving behind, and will be greatly missed. I(Lets not count the people under 3 lbs. and named after a peanut.) Despite this radical change, it saddens me on a fundamental level to leave all this behind. I hate the fact my history has been stripped and on sale for trampling drunks to purchase. The clearance sale was up this weekend and I finally came closer to liquidating my precious car at a markedly reduced price. Depressed about the aspect of leaving my sister’s home (lets be honest, I moved out of my home weeks ago), and confounded about my future, I will venture into the predictable oblivion and sort out my next obscurity.  With all this on my mind, I have not been empathetic with the emotional turmoil of those staying behind.

I will try to continue to write on this journey while I transition to my new Pinky-esque world, I will need time to immerse in my new home: Thailand.

What the ???

After reading the latest news on events occurring in Thailand, it gave me pause on my questionable decision to move to Thailand. The lost woman and I have much in common; neither speak the local language, traveling alone, and dark enough to be mistaken for a native in the remote tribal village. Upon hearing the dismal news of her years of confusion and bizarre mishaps, I was filled with doubts of my luck if I were stranded in Thailand. How long would it take Hubby to realize I was missing, and how long would he search before calling off the rescue? Definitely before 25 years.

It took the lady 25 years before she was “discovered” by three students who were training in the area and spoke her dialect. Only then was she able to explain her obtuse predicament. What does not reconcile in my mind is how she was unable to learn the language after that many years in Thailand. After a year or two she should have been able to converse on a basic level whether verbally or physically, that she was lost. While it’s true that uneducated people may not have the organized structure to learn another language later in life, it would appear plausible that after a decade that she would find a way to communicate to the authorities that she has 8 kids at home and was hopelessly lost. What happened in that time? Why was the jungle woman in Vietnam found after 18 years and it took this woman 25? Why does it only happen to women?? Are women that inept at direction?

As of today, we are technically homeless. No meaningful humble abode to declare our own, and no desirable land to claim as our future home either. So now that we’ve relinquished our permanent residence so to venture into the oblivion world of Southeast Asia, we’re experiencing bittersweet emotions and deep doubts deriving from our questionable decision.

Today we turned in the keys to our home, tighten the knot on our suitcase, and confirmed our Asia bound flight. It is the inevitable time where we must bid farewell to our few friends and far too many family members so that we must commence our journey into what our little hearts have been beckoning us to do. As I leave this little town that I have grown to love and endure, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if we canceled our tickets and terminate our immediate plans to abandon mother and our personal history. While it would conceivably be much the same as it was the week prior, it would most definitely confine our exotic expectations of our future. It would prematurely hinder our plans to litter our personal belongings in Europe and Thailand, nevermind the havoc it would wreak on our family and friends who have found new companions to replace us. What would you do with the replacement set if the originals are still hovering about??

While I jest about canceling my plans, I do realize that leaving this little town is not only inevitable, but is mandatory. If we were to stay we would never truly experience or realize our dreams of living abroad, we would never discover the innate traveling bugs, and we would never fully recover the costs of canceling the tickets. What will be most regrettably will be the profoundly priceless moments we will miss many sense. We’ll miss the secret jokes that friends share on intimate drinking occasions, the profound discussions regarding the weather, and the dinners with friends and family that will continue to occur without us. Those things are beyond what money can buy and for that, we wish someone had come up with a method wherein we can insert special moments of our lives into little glass bottles so that we can keep it sacred in our kitchen pantry.

At this juncture we can only fiercely, albeit questionably, forge ahead. As pinkies, we truly appreciate that courage is doing the thing we fear the most. It’s either that or foolishness, but at the end of the day, who cares?

Sitting in our nearly empty place we realized that our plane tickets are non-refundable and our itinerary does not involve a return to square one, here. Sadly it is too late to change our minds and too soon to give up. Bags packed, TV sold, mattress sold, plates and cups gone too. Seems there’s nothing left to pack that hasn’t already been sold, given away to friends, or donated to the local alley hobos.

Less then two weeks before we join the pack of fearless backpackers called to the world of Buddhist temples and pristine beaches, a place well known as Thailand. Seeing that Hubby and I have even picked our foreign Thai names so to fool the cab drivers that we’re no average farangs who inhabited and brutalized their beaches and complex culture. (Hubby is Svoriko and I’m Ningning.)

Many asked us if we’re excited, of course this is usually the question after they’ve regained composure, picked their jaw from the ground, once learning that we are moving to Thailand and not England, Paris, or Australia. The follow up question is what will we do there, and then to make some sort of comment along the lines of how they’d like to come and visit one day. While I can’t speak for Hubby, I can truly say that I thoroughly do not enjoy repeating myself in this manner. It’s equivalent to a certified declaration under penalty of perjury that you are duly obligated to commit to, or else be held a liar. While I’d like to have a concrete plan as to my future, I can only affirm that my ultimate intent and mission is to live my life to the fullest, be it in Thailand or the States, and with the support of friends and family.

Hubby wants a meaningful opportunity to view employment as optional rather than compulsory. As we’re both established in our careers, at least for another two weeks, we’re elated that this opportunity has arisen. As we forge ahead, just like the Jungle woman of 18 years, we will be retrained to appreciate Thailand and its elaborate presentation with deep history and friendly people. Sawadee kha!!!

The last bit of history is littered around the living room and kitchen for the last minute stragglers, bargain basement vultures to come this weekend for the imminent House Sale. In all honesty, the sign should say Life For Sale, because every little spoon and fork has remnants of the unforgiving, and indefensible past. Pinky’s past.

Normally, I could easily discard the raunchy glittering Christmas cards, ridiculous cartoon Birthday cards, and cheap recycled red wine, but I cannot dispense with the unapologetic pink pig adorned in an Alcatraz uniform with the swinging baton. That history is irreplaceable. Almost criminal to dispose of with the rest of the $1 items floating around on the kitchen counter. Even the thought of liquidating it is seemingly sacrilegious.

Another artifact I discovered underneath all the files was the souvenirs purchased on our last trip to Thailand. Evidently we thought cheap coin bags would be ideal souvenirs, but miraculously, customs didn’t catch on at the airport. How many people would appreciate a coin bag shaped like little scintillating elephants? Apparently we thought many people would find it equally valuable.

House sale starts at 8 am, but nothing in it belongs to a house. Together it does equate to a home, however, in pieces it’s nothing more than useless abandoned junk on the sidewalk for people to rummage through. On a positive note, if it does survive the trash bin, it might become a part of someone else’s history. Pinky lives on!! (Well, for another three weeks anyway.)

Sold leather sofa today and was quite disillusioned about the prospect of the human condition where emotions are attached to inanimate objects. Seems like every item in my surroundings is for sale. The distasteful and loud blue bamboo pot that holds the symbolic good luck charm given to me when I started my first business sits among other dusty, priceless items that are reduced to sell quickly. Too quickly for me to place a true and meaningful value on what it’s worth to me.

Items purchased after countless, exhausting shopping hours now reduced to bargain basement merchandise slated to put any department store out of business. It brings me little comfort knowing that my priceless treasures will transition from my impeccable care to that of a cold and indifferent stranger. How can one negate personal resentment and bitterness when one’s personal history is for sale?

Sold today is the bedroom set, the first one I owned outright and of the measurable quality that a student budget could afford while scrapping by on student loans and cheap ramon noodle. It has sentimental value and meaningful discussion only to those who had to survive on 1 and a half meal a day just so there would be enough money for one evening out on the weekend. Food or going out? Think cheap Vodka. Gone now are the days where you can point to the bedroom set and tell your fellow constituents that this was your accomplishment after years of starvation and haphazard nights on nasty, anonymous sofas. That this was what all the pain and suffering was about. Unfortunately, this history was sold today.

Days of shopping for that perfect piece of green furniture disappeared in a few short hours after some disheveled bloke came along and offered a fraction of what the thing holds in history, experience, and love. Hours of arguing with Hubby about the subtle shades of green in the cushion, the precise configuration of the sofa, and the obnoxious price, only to be reduced to a few Ben Franklins in the pocket. On his way out, the disoriented bloke casually mentioned that this fluffy feather downed green furniture, which was purchased with the utmost consideration and meticulous thought process, will probably be his dog’s bed.

Gone are the things that Hubby hoarded over the years, including the countless “practical and useful” computer books and 50,000 plus computer cables and hardware. Gone is the crappy, dysfunctional phone that disconnects indiscriminately and forces you to communicate in a pitch higher than a natural person should ever be legally allowed. Gone are the mismatched knives that had no paired forks, spoons with no siblings, and chop sticks with no twins.

Gone are the things that represent years of history. Things that hold a little history of who you are based on where you’ve traveled, what you’ve accomplished, and the experiences which makes you an interesting person.

As I look around and assess the ubiquitous emptiness, I heard a faint but distinct sound in the background. A door closing.

So we took the ultimate step today and booked our one way tickets bound for Bangkok. While I am nervous about the fact that the only seats available for two happens to be miles apart from each other, I’m ten times more anxious about the commitment and finality of what the tickets represent. As the airline indicated on their website, there’s no refund.

I can’t recall the last time I booked a one way ticket. Mostly because it’s always much more expensive than a round trip ticket, but usually I don’t mind since it means I have some degree of certainty that at the end of it all, I’ll be back at square one. This move to Bangkok, while imminent and inevitable, appears somewhat frighteningly drastic. Mixed feelings brewing within Pinky’s brain and aside from marriage, I hate commitments. However, I embrace change and particularly the quasi vacationing kind, but the kind that puts you in limbo until you arrive at the airport and at the mercy of your family and her in laws (we know how I feel about in laws), makes me want to hyperventilate and jab my eyes out as it keeps rolling upward. I can’t stop sighing!!! Melancholy and languishing about the thought of leaving behind people and places associated with my personal history, I’m forging ahead with Plan A as one would at any crossroad. Nonetheless, I can’t help but question what’s in my head..

Is it really worth giving everything up (i.e. business, friends, family) for an opportunity to venture across the Pacific ocean to be immersed in a foreign land where one speaks not a word of the language? Is it worth giving up the creature comfort of familiarity one finds at Krispy Kreme donuts, small beef burgers the size of a coin pancake at 58 Degrees, and shopping at discounted Macys, to evidently discover culture and small treasures in an exotic land? I sigh again. Life is full of laughable surprises, shocking discoveries and memorable moments.

If all else fails, lets see how long the in laws will put up with my crazy antics as I check out of exotic cultural mystique and back into civilization.

I can’t believe I have to pack my personal history, 33 years of it, into two lousy semi-efficient suitcases to be traversed at the international terminal. How do you distinguish between what’s worth keeping and tossing out to the hobos loitering in the alley nearby? How do you ascribe a value to sentimental items that are absolutely worthless on ebay and may only trigger minor interests to the people associated with them? Furthermore, I can’t indiscriminately toss out items without some meaningful, categorical process of what’s important and what’s not. That would negate MY personal history. Without my personal belongings or possessions, I’d be like a house without a roof, or a car without snow tires.

There are a few things I’m relatively indecisive about. Designer bags. They are a must keep, but which ones and how/where to keep them. Thank goodness Binlaw has a useful purpose. Little did Binlaw know that his entire unspoken mission, albeit misguided, was to lug all my designer bags to his house to store. Even though his house is across a continent and an ocean away, I’d rather it collect dust there than in some damp, dark, and highly questionable storage unit. Despite the fact that it’ll be over ten hours to get to his house from here, and that’s on a 747 aircraft going at an average of 600 miles an hour, at least I know it’ll be in a relatively safe, and more importantly, room temperature environment. Getting Binlaw to agree was no small task as I had to carefully illustrate that it was imperative to take the bags, to maintain its form during transport and condition once it reaches its destination. (Yes, it does require special care upon arrival, particularly since it’ll be a while before I can appreciate its splendor again.) After an initial obligatory refusal, many wonderfully persuasive arguments presented by yours truly, and a plethora of strong beverages, Binlaw agreed to transport them.

Another item I’ve been contemplating is my book collection. I love my misguided selection of fiction novels, and in moments of clarity, fiction books. While I am partial to certain authors, I’m particularly stalker-esque when it comes to substantively clever novels. If I can condense them into mini-books, I’d take every single hard-cover, soft-cover, no-cover book with me to Thailand and store them to eternity, or at least until I’m too blind to see that they’re no longer with me. Either way, books are an extension of my parallel universe because no matter what you’ve done or what you’ve conceived, someone has written about it more cleverly and eloquently then you have ever thought possible. Whatever you’ve experienced or procrastinated about, dreamt of but yet to execute, mulled over in uncertainty and perplexity, it’s all been written about in some book, and in a more coherent and succinct fashion. Thus, books are as vital to man as water is to fish and designer bags are to some women.

What I don’t have a problem with are things that I should have tossed out five years ago. I have clothes that I’ve kept that are either too large, as I deluded myself into believing that I could shrink it when I purchased it, or too small as they’ve shrunk too much. Some are so outdated that it’s quite possible there was a shopping expedition while someone was horrendously inebriated. All those things will be donated to the local alley congregating hobos.

More personal to me are things that I’ve kept with me for the last 20 years and I can’t jeopardize desecrating during my nativity stage in Thailand. One certainly can’t traverse Asia with one’s ceramic piggy bank, the one that takes the form of a pink pig wearing an Alcatraz outfit complete with black stripes and hat. Nor can one hoist a three volume photo album, with photos ranging from the high hair day to more sensible iron straight hair, while trudging through the ruins of Angkor Wat. At the end of the day, I certainly can’t remember these things, as without them I might not remember the little stories, events, people, and moments that made up my life. They hold a piece of history that can never be recaptured, unless, of course, one’s a courageously intelligent, detail oriented, colorful writer, whose words can transcend the stories of one’s life into their own Mona Lisa.

I know that when the time comes for me to pack my belongings into my two treacherous suitcases, I will have to make some arduous decisions. Lets hope Hubby’s suitcase will be sufficiently large enough for the albums. I will need it to remind me of all I’m leaving behind.

The inevitable will go someting like this…. we arrive in Bangkok and never ever return to the states, wherein our families and friends will forget our existence as we would transcend into the mystique of “going native” and deny that we even know where California is. Well, that’s Plan A.

Plan B is if we fail miserably in Bangkok we’d take the next overnight haul to London and beg our in-laws, hubby’s family, to take us in until we can establish ourselves from the indignity of defeat in Bangkok. Or until they throw us out in sheer desperation before their homicidal tendencies kick in. Whatever the case, I think we’ll have a blast in Bangkok. People have been promising to come out and visit once we’ve established residency there, but I do hope they change their minds. It’s not that I don’t want to entertain, I’d rather not have them show up and by default, appoint me as their designated tour guide. What a horrendous chore that would be to constantly repeat myself, “That there is a temple. That there is heavy traffic which results in severe pollution, igniting any asthma episode that may be lurking in your system, and no, not everyone here is a prostitute or pimp.”

Seriously, if people say they plan to come visit they should. Why else say it? It doesn’t make me like them more for saying it, or less for not saying it. It actually annoys me because I was hoping to never talk to some of these people again. By coming to Bangkok to see me, the understanding is that I’d have to somehow maintain a pretense of courtesy and affection for people whom I have very little interest in once I board that flight to commence my nativity journey. A tsunami deterrence strategy is in order.

It seems many are keen on Plan B, some even insisting that we skip Plan A and go directly to Plan B. Can you play Monopoly and skip Park Place and collect without paying? I don’t think so. In order for us to truly appreciate and long for London is to immerse ourselves completely in the life and culture of Thailand. Get enough food poisoning and poor paying jobs so last us for at least half a decade before we can appreciate the pain of living in a 400 square foot flatshare in London. Yes, that’s life in London. If we’re lucky enough to ingrate ourselves in our inlaws’ place, we’d at least have a place to recuperate from the jet lag. If only they live in London and not the land of curries and Indian food galore. (sighing)

So now I think it’s final. I’ve turned in my notice to all my friends, family, and business associates so there’s no turning back at this point. Good or bad, it’s better to do this now then contemplate it any further and procrastinate, or worse yet, to become complacent with where you’re at and what you’re doing. I hate living life wondering what could’ve happened or could’ve been if I had made a different decision in my life. No one should live that way as life is too short (pardon the cliche).

The next quest now is to figure out when in January we should leave. It looks more and more like it’ll be toward the end, closer to my birthday and definitely before Vietnamese New Years. It’s suppose to be bad luck to travel during that time and particularly so if you’re starting over. You have to have consistency and stability the first week of New Year or else the entire year will bring you nothing but bad luck. I do not need that right now. It doesn’t really matter if it’s before or after New Year, it just can’t be during that time. I’d like to start out the year with a bit of luck and visceral positivity. Where are we moving to? Bangkok.

In anticipation of our departure, my buddy from law school came down to see me this weekend. While I had a fantastic time catching up with him and meeting his new gf, I was astounded by the fact that he has not changed, physically or socially, in the seven years I’ve known him. Some people have a knack for maintaining their looks without much effort, and while most credit genetics, I simply believe that they are just damn fastidious about hygiene and exercise. If you eat right, take care of yourself by spending more than 10 minutes on yourself every day, and exercise, you can literally live for a long time. It’s interesting that people usually blame the media, their parents for perpetuating their bad habits, and genetics for all their problems. I say that after 20, you’re on your own so deal with it!

As I saw my friend extricate himself from his new sleek black Z4, I realized that the part of him that’s changed is financial. He makes more money now than in our law school days when we had to share hotdogs and each other’s rice portions because we couldn’t afford a decent meal. I think we were much thinner too because of it. In the last few years, he’s done quite well for himself, creating a niche at corporate America where his Harvard degree still stands prominent at any interview level and ubiquitous eye-winking from those that had preceded him from the same familial institution. Life has treated him well.

Pretty women has always been my friend’s mainstay. He perpetually has a beautiful woman on his arm. It’s almost as if they are extensions of him. He adores them in different shapes, sizes, and ethnicities, but always the constant factor of being beautiful. This is probably due to the fact that my friend is probably the most charming and out-going guy on this side of the state. He is always polite and courteous, with a halo of positivity that permeates those around him, and he is an overall nice guy. Sad but true that those qualities all wrapped in one package are quite rare these days. True to his nature, he is the same to me every time we talk. But what makes my friend stand out is that he has always been honest with me, whether it’s about my issues or his, you can always count on him to be consistently honest.

In the seven years I’ve known him, he has maintained the same level of friendship and affection that any true person would. That’s what makes him special. I’ve only met one other person like him in my entire life, and I wisely married him. My friend and my husband are good friends. They enjoy each other’s company tremendously as they have many things in common. I only see my friend once a year, when I make the journey to Newport Beach or when he comes in my neck of the woods - which has not been often enough. The last visit was prompted by the news that we are packing up and moving to Thailand and the inevitable….