it's in the little things...

I think that's the name of some sappy love song or bad chick flick, that I have likely cursed and watched a million times over. Regardless, it's true: it's in the little things. Direction of the wind. Watching every little kid in a tiny Laos village tear up to the road side to wave "Goodbye! Sayba dee!" throwing their hand out to slap a high five, as you pass through their streets. The strange yellow "sport drink" that finds it's way into every cooler in the country and quenches your thirst like none other. The sound of grinding gears when you momentarily forget which trigger to hit as you start to climb, watching a caged monkey suck his own dick...because really, what better way to pass the time? I still feel like i need a shower just for witnessing. The smell of curry, of coconut sticky rice, of squat toilets and raw meat. The four-set bowls at every seating in a noodle shop or restaurant full of chile, sugar and alternating versions of msg, salt and/or pickled peppers, fish sauce, peanuts etc. The truckloads of oranges available to buy on every corner of town, the ubiquitous (ooooh, big word) market places overflowing w/ fresh produce and countless new and bizarre edibles. The taste of coffee lao, first think in the morning as it strips the remaining 5 layers of enamel off your teeth and feeds it to you in a delicious shot of thick, black syrup.

I found myself bargaining for bananas w/ two Tribes women in a Sunday market in the middle of nowhere while an Asian looking man from Oakland, CA, stepped from his hired minivan, video recorder in hand, on record. The sound of roosters...no matter where I go and how many layers of insulation stand between us, little fuckers. The ridiculous ease of traveling w/ a stranger who often seems to know more about me than people I have known my entire life. The fact that we will soon part ways and I am once again looking at a map of Asia asking myself "if you could do anything here, what would it be?" The freedom and the limitations of cycling everywhere. The incredible people who are out doing their own version of the same. The amazing parallels I encounter everyday, between my world in America, and every other world I come in contact with. Of course. We are all human. Of course, we all face the same obstacles, endeavors and pleasures...of course. It's the little things though, that remind me, that stay w/ me, that paint the landscape of my travels and feed my soul. Where will I go from here? I have no idea.

It's in the little things. The fact that I have never seen such blatant, extensive obliteration of a landscape. Never breathed air so heavy and thick w/ smoke and pollution. Never felt so defeated by hills, so elated by simple interactions w/ people. Never before have I tasted the foods, encountered the smells, the sights. It's in the little things, that make this incredible "trip" so intense. A reservoir of water w/ a hand bucket for your personal & creative interpretation of toilet paper, sticky rice, bad music, drunk and loud tourists, bar girls, kindness in the form of a tip, distance in the form of a colored line, concern in the form of a reprimand, distraction in the form of electricity and all it's many applications.

I can't help seeing my life here. It annoys me that things like "where ever you go, there you are", stick in my head and prove themselves. Love it that I cannot seem to escape my head no matter where I go and find myself. Amused at the fact that it sometimes "occurs" to me that if I can't beat it, I might as well join it...as though this were an option and I could somehow sever my head from the rest of me to live a better, simpler life. Ha! Can't help digging for the ties that bind us as human beings, regardless of race, religion, sex, language, borders, the list goes on and on. I love it. I hate it. I revel in it. I soak it up and saturate my soul in it only to jump out screaming and hollering that I will have no part of it and that everyone should go to hell!...very effective. I highly recommend spastic rampage to any and all. A little hard headed independence mixed w/ a splash of masochism is always a good combo too. God, could I just take a moment to bear the inner workings of my head to the general public? Blaaaaaaaaah.

I wish so many times in a day that I could just wrap this shit up, throw it all in a box, pack it up nice and neat, slap a pretty bow on top and ship the fucker home. What is it with life experience?!?! What's with the constant discomfort of heady games and distractions? What's w/ the control freak and critical bitch and rigid fear of letting go and desperate longing to quit trying so hard only to find myself trying soooooo damned hard? What is it w/ being human?!?! Can't I just label the idiots I find in the street as "wrong" and myself as "right" so I can go on feeling superior to "other white tourists" and know I have found "the way?" Ha ha. No. Of course not. Did I mention the whole "no matter where I go..." thing?

Life is good. Damn good. I just want some fucking answers to it all. I want to know what I'll be doing in 10 yrs...so I can stubbornly refuse to do it. Want to know what I'll be doing when I get home so I can obsess over it while I bike through incredible countries, meeting amazing people, having experiences of a life time. I want to know what I will be doing in a week so I can decide to feel committed to my decision and then freak over how much I don't know and psych myself out of it only to bully myself into it. Mostly, I just want some candy for my monkey mind to occupy itself w/ so I don't have to deal w/ what's right here, right now. DISTRACT ME DAMN IT!!!

No. Of course not. Not really. But this is what it boils down to and then there is a moment of silence, of peace. I realize there is really no other place to be. No thing to do... except be another freak on the internet. Which, let's face it, is really where the world is headed anyway. At least I'm on the winning side. Ha! Stick that in your Vang Vieng opium pipe and smoke it!