Momentos – July 2013

These are my Momentos, short personal diary entries I write daily – since 2013 – and publish monthly. Some links are affiliate links.

1

I feel like running away. I have my bags packed. But I pause bedside. I know that path out the door leads to a place lonely and twisted. So I stay. And we talk. I love that about us. We talk things out, leave nothing unsaid, work through the treacle. I say words I haven’t said in nine years. We make love, cook breakfast, and listen to kings. This path, right here. It leads some place beautiful.

2

I made it clear that I was only going to be in town for three months initially so I couldn’t do a long-term contract. But I didn’t read the small print and they snuck twelve in on me anyway. Credit card company twice failed to kill the recurring payments. So I tell the manager at the gym that I’m leaving the country. Said he needs to see my ticket out of town. I bring him one. No problem, he smiles, consider it cancelled. I don’t believe him.

3

Sat on the couch in underwear and a torn tee, I start the timer. Deep breathing, then purging, then hold. I repeat the pattern three times, capping out at a hold that would have made Harry Houdini proud. Best of all, I experience no loss of sensation, no color morphing. I get up off the couch and celebrate with pistachios and Macklemore, then go tell Facebook.

4

Sprint training at one of those nice open stadiums they have dotted about Thailand. You’d think there wouldn’t be much technique involved in running as fast as you damn well can, but there is. Matt coached us today on three point starts, the drive phase, and arm motion. I was aiming to beat thirteen seconds and came in a tenth over on my best run. You only really get two shots at it, then you’re spent and have to call it a day.

5

He tells me his fee is 2,000 Baht. I nod, and he goes back to checking my forms. Shit, I should have tried to haggle him down. He was probably starting high and expecting me to negotiate. It’s not that it’s too expensive. I just hate when I don’t ask, when I don’t try. And now it’s too late. It will be weird if I speak up at this point. The moment has passed… Ah screw it, nothing to lose. “Did you say two thousand?”

6

Cheat day dinner is a lousy burger and pizza bread, but it’s quiet here and I have an hour to work. I check email to find one assistant having a hard time finding good writers, editing taking up too much of her time. I try to act on these things fast. If there’s a problem, make a decision, change course, but keep moving. I get recommendations for reliable writers on oDesk, create a new account and send her the login details.

7

We fool around while the cleaner’s in the next room. I can see her moving about through the fogged glass. We keep the noise down, but she must know, she has to know. Eventually we quit it and let her in to change the sheets. We make green smoothie and oatmeal mix then crash back to bed to watch a boy turn into Tom Hanks and back again. It’s the kind of Sunday dreams are made of.

8

She’s perfect, really. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Smart, adventurous, free-thinking, skeptical, brave, beautiful and incredibly sexy. I’ve thought about asking her to come with me at the end of the month, but I know I wouldn’t really mean it. I’ve got several more years of selfishness left in my bones, many things still to go and do with only myself to worry about. And though I know this, it’s going to be hard to leave her. She’s made me a better man.

9

“Everything here is complicated and works against you and it’s really hard to be successful. That’s a very common theme. Well, there’s another way to look at it: Thailand is the Special Olympics, and I’m an Olympic athlete coming to play, and I’ll run circles around all these people. I just gotta make sure they don’t lose face, and I gotta pick and choose which battles I want to fight. But if you come here and you know about business, it’s pretty easy.”

10

I walk into the copy shop across the street, where I first met Sarun. I’ve been waiting nearly forty minutes, called him three times, heard the same thing three times: “Five minute, five minute. I be there five minute!” The lady in the shop hooked us up, so I ask her to call him again. I’m getting worried. He has my passport. She calls him on a battered Nokia, hangs up in a blink and tells me, “Five minute, five minute. He be here five minute!”

11

“I write you ticket, and then we go police station and take license one month. One month no drive.” He has the smog mask on. I see his eyes and imagine his smile. That relentless, farcical smile. I’m tired and I’m hungry and I don’t want to play this fucking game. But I have no choice. I ask for an out. “Okay, I help you. My boss he crazy so he can no see, but I help you, I help you.”

12

It happens at almost every restaurant here. You go in, sit down, they bring you a menu… and then they stand there waiting to take your order, as if you will scan the thing in seven seconds and decide which dish you want. I tell the lady at the noodle shop that I’ll need two minutes. She responds with a nod and a kah and stays standing over my shoulder, pen and paper in hand, nare a bother on her.

13

It’s a Saturday night and we’re burger-bound under a crescent moon. Three bikes are coming the wrong way off the flyover as we ramp on. Strange. Suicidal even. At the apex there’s another bike pulled in tight to the guardrail, rider about to turn and signaling us to do the same. It dawns on me what’s up ahead. Shit. We slow to a stop and I tell her what’s about to happen. Then we turn and ride into oncoming traffic.

14

I try focus on my breathing. Deep breathing, the book said, that’s how you stay in control. But I’m fast approaching climax, not sure if I’ll be able to do this. She can feel my body begin to tense, every muscle tight. I clench and clench and clench as the waves crash and wash over me. Fuuuuuuuuck that feels good. And I’m left gasping. I check myself as the spasms subside. Holy shit, still dry! This might just change everything.

15

Clamber up onto the wall, walk to the end, drop down 1.5 meters, land firm on the balls of your feet. Do this fifty times, in the pissing rain, in a deserted park. Beyond that we practice rolls, first on the grass, ten each side. Then on hard marble, ten each side. You can tell pretty fast with the latter how good or bad your form is. And mine is bad. I’ll discover raw spots on my back and shoulders when I get home.

16

Twelve days left in Bangkok. I sometimes wonder if I’m on the run. This nomadic lifestyle lets you off the hook. Every few months you pack up and move on, start afresh someplace new. It’s tempting not to work on relationships, to avoid tackling problems, because you’ll be gone in two weeks anyway. Why rock the boat? But I don’t see this as a good thing. It’s a dangerous trap I aim to steer clear of, and I’m not always sure I succeed.

17

There are just three of us in the class. Rob looks too young to have three daughters, but he does. Manages oil rigging teams all around the world, one month on, one month off. He has the air of a man financially secure and his his resting heart rate is 56 beats. Vincent is from Quebec and leads tours around Asia. He was stabbed seven times in the back a few years ago in Vietnam and has trouble finding his own pulse. We all get along quite well.

18

The more entrepreneurs I talk to, the more businessmen I meet, the more investors I interview, the more I believe that ideas are everywhere. There’s a relentless supply of them once you develop the right mindset, the right way of looking at the world. But ideas are just the beginning. Anyone can have an idea. It’s what you do with your idea that matters. How to validate, how to implement, how to market, how to sell, knowing when to go all in and when to quit…

19

I love being early for an appointment and slowing down on amber instead of speeding up. I love walking down the street and remembering to appreciate that my body is functioning perfectly, that nothing hurts. I love typing this on my laptop and looking over and seeing her sleep. I love when she wakes up and asks what I’m writing and then giggles when she reads these very words.

20

The trail is barely visible. We’re pushing our way through a Thai jungle, heading towards the falls. The rain is hitting hard, and we’ve accepted that we’re going to be soaked. Somehow we find our way back to Haew Suwat, the most famous falls in the nation. There were crowds here earlier but now with the rain we have it all to ourselves. We clamber on rocks and across fallen trees, snapping pics and breathing mist.

21

On the hunt for junk food at a roadside market, we pass a meat stand. Fat legs of pork out on display, with bright yellow and black hornets tugging at the flesh. The butcher sees our jaws drop and picks up the leg, grinning proudly, as if the insect infestation adds to the value of his product. We shake our heads and walk on. Dead insects taste bad enough.

22

We haven’t talked about it much, but we both feel it looming. This time next week I’ll be gone, on a bus somewhere between Vientiane and Hanoi. I like to think we’re both better off for having had this time together, but the guilt is beginning to build, the guilt of leaving her behind. I’m always the one leaving, always the one disappointing. I guess I’ll just have to live with it, because I’m not ready to change. I might never be.

23

The most fucked-up thing he’s ever seen, that’s what he calls it. He was a little drunk, got chatting to a ladyboy on the street, asking about the plumbing and whatnot. One thing led to another and he ends up in a hotel room watching the post-op and her pre-op friend screw each other. It culminated with the latter throwing up in the toilet. “I have pictures and video on my laptop,” he tells me. “I’m a bit worried about airport security.”

24

I sometimes wonder if I use people, only wanting them around if there’s some direct benefit to me. And I wonder if this is wrong, overly selfish, egotistical. Or maybe it’s just smart. There are lots of good, kindhearted people here in Bangkok I could hang out with, but, right or wrong, plain old hanging out doesn’t interest me much. I think of the opportunity costs: the cool projects I could be working on; other people I could be spending time with and learning from.

25

I spot a young Thai chap in a Hornets cap. Flash back to another lifetime. In many ways, that teal and purple bug led me here, to this train in an Asian sky. Those three years spent in New Orleans, stalking that very team, those years changed me significantly. That was when I really came to know myself and laid the foundation for the life I’m now living. The young man and his memory cap get off at Ratchathewi. I continue on.

26

She asks if I’m okay, tells me to relax. I thought I was relaxed. Now I’m nervous about how relaxed I am. Probably not enough. I find it hard to let go in these places, with a stranger’s hands on my naked back. “Relack, relack,” she tells me again. I try deep breathing, see if that will calm me down, but still feel myself tense when she digs in with her thumbs. I’m not sure how anyone can relax with this deep tissue malarkey. Pain isn’t conducive to stress reduction.

27

It’s getting annoying, all these freeloaders crowding beside our table, snapping pictures of themselves and the view. Some even rest elbows like we’re all hanging out at the bar. I should say something. They’ve crossed the line. And she’s getting annoyed. I run through the words in my head. “Sorry guys, would you mind giving us a bit of space here? We’re trying to have a quiet dinner.” Yeah, sounds good. I should really say that.

28

I look out past her shoulder at an endless grey sky, a color fit for the occasion. I’ll soon be in a taxi with tears in my eyes, speeding away from her, this girl who loves me. And I love her. Yet I’m still leaving, still not ready to commit, still too selfish. But I can’t help but wonder if these past three months we had, all better than a dream… if that was as good as it gets. What if I never have that chance again, never feel my heart blush warm like it did in her presence?

29

I find myself middle seated in a row of five, Thai elbow to my right, American to my left. It’s a tight squeeze, even with my ankles hanging out into the aisle. After a few hours of reading and restlessness, I sit up defeated and spot a lower, padded level below the sleeper seats. It looks so inviting that I wonder why nobody else has commandeered the space. No matter. I crawl and sprawl under there, and proceed to sleep better than anyone else aboard.

30

We’re dropped off in Hanoi’s Old Quarter, the tourist area. I love the challenge of getting my bearings and finding my digs, becoming gradually unlost in the chaos of Asian streets. The A Dong hotel isn’t where the map said it would be, but I find it eventually and check in without fuss. I’ve been offline for about 27 hours, and in that time more than a thousand dollars have been deposited into my PayPal account.

31

Sidewalks are scarce here, mostly taken up by parked scooters, forcing pedestrians out along the gutters. I leave the wreckage and cut through some alleyways, exchanging smiles and waves with cute kids. Darkness has fallen by the time I cross the tracks and hit Phung Hung. I find a decent-looking restaurant and read my way through a delicious five-course meal. The bill comes to about $15. I pay up and call it a night. Tomorrow I leave for China.