Human remains of the day
I have scaled back on concerns and staticky trash talk mind chatter. I wish the missus were with me, but she couldn't get the time off. Forget about long stemmed dog house roses. Nothing will parole a man from the dog house quicker than taking out a million dollars accidental death traveler's insurance policy and promising to make an effort to walk a thin line between somethingness and nothingness.
My extreme adventuring is getting off to a slow start.
Last night a monsoon shower made a muddy creek out of the road leading to my friend's rented villa where I am sharing a room with a frog, a gecko and a spider or two. The panting, whop, whop, whop of the ceiling fan nearly caused me to have a Vietnam-movie Post Theatrical Released Stress Disorder flashback. I had more than a couple Martin Sheen moments last night, sweating and tossing about in the un-air conditioned room.
Today I managed to rent a motorcycle and so I can go where I please. In Siem Reap that means you go past the round about, over the bridge, dodge traffic for eight blocks turn around at the HSBC building and head back across the bridge.
I kicked my adventure up a notch a few hours ago.
This rainy afternoon I had my first manicure and pedicure. I sat with my feet in some khmeress's lap while she cut, clipped, filed, and scrubbed my twenty digits. After making sure my toenails were in tip-top sandal exposure shape, and that I still had enough thumbnail left to scratch my fever'd brow, I paid her boss ten bucks, tipped her two bucks and wondered if the tip was too much or not enough. She was my first. Her name is Nok Neen. I will never forget her.
Next week, I will go to Van Vieng, Laos and kayak. Then white water raft. Then head into the hills for some rock climbing. I will eco-trek. I will float on inner tubes while spelunking through dank, forbidding Van Vieng caves. And if per chance I do accidentally come to nothingness, my insurance policy will ship back to Dubai a box stamped "human remains" where a grieving newly minted millionaire widow will have to figure out if I'm to have a Muslim funeral (wrap the slab o'meat in a sheet and toss it in an unmarked hole in the desert) or use a small portion of the loot to have me cremated, as per my wishes stated here, and have those ashes scattered along Route 66 just outside of Albuquerque.
My extreme adventuring is getting off to a slow start.
Last night a monsoon shower made a muddy creek out of the road leading to my friend's rented villa where I am sharing a room with a frog, a gecko and a spider or two. The panting, whop, whop, whop of the ceiling fan nearly caused me to have a Vietnam-movie Post Theatrical Released Stress Disorder flashback. I had more than a couple Martin Sheen moments last night, sweating and tossing about in the un-air conditioned room.
Today I managed to rent a motorcycle and so I can go where I please. In Siem Reap that means you go past the round about, over the bridge, dodge traffic for eight blocks turn around at the HSBC building and head back across the bridge.
I kicked my adventure up a notch a few hours ago.
This rainy afternoon I had my first manicure and pedicure. I sat with my feet in some khmeress's lap while she cut, clipped, filed, and scrubbed my twenty digits. After making sure my toenails were in tip-top sandal exposure shape, and that I still had enough thumbnail left to scratch my fever'd brow, I paid her boss ten bucks, tipped her two bucks and wondered if the tip was too much or not enough. She was my first. Her name is Nok Neen. I will never forget her.
Next week, I will go to Van Vieng, Laos and kayak. Then white water raft. Then head into the hills for some rock climbing. I will eco-trek. I will float on inner tubes while spelunking through dank, forbidding Van Vieng caves. And if per chance I do accidentally come to nothingness, my insurance policy will ship back to Dubai a box stamped "human remains" where a grieving newly minted millionaire widow will have to figure out if I'm to have a Muslim funeral (wrap the slab o'meat in a sheet and toss it in an unmarked hole in the desert) or use a small portion of the loot to have me cremated, as per my wishes stated here, and have those ashes scattered along Route 66 just outside of Albuquerque.
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6 Comments:
Golly but I do enjoy reading your blog. Another great and excellent post. Be safe please. No need to go n'git yourself dead on account of proving your thoughtfulness in the insurance department. I would wager that the missus counts you more valuable alive. But then, I'm a hopeless romantic.
Hat--but the missus has a husband who leaves breakfast dishes in the sink, always brings the car back on empty, watches too much late night TV and only yesterday had his razor blade toenails properly clipped. Still a romantic?
I pay $25 for a pedicure and $15 to fill in the acrylics every two weeks. It takes to technicians and I tip them $5 each.
Liz B.
So Lizzy, it ain't like having a pedicure is a feggy thang is it?, cuz I've never felt snazzier in a pair of sandals, and will most def do it again. Thing is, in the Middle East, the salons are sexually segregated, so my technician will not be a bubble khmeress but will be an, um, "perky" Filipino boy boy, he of long tresses.
Oh, I hope she picks cremation. I could go to the ceremony, although I'm never sure that word applies to ash scattering. You dig in, you toss. No ceremony to it.
Anyway, I'm so glad you're sharing. Your near-flashback is our flashback.
It's extraordinary, really, how few words it took you to evoke much evocative stuff.
THANKS.
PS. I'm glad you're being accidentally careful on your rented motorcycle.
my friend K. is a Texas roadhouse-type biker from waay waaay back. He gave me the art of zen biking in SE Asia. Don't think about it too much, if you do start thinking, you'll get yourself kilt. Coincidentally, not thinking too much is what I do best, so I'm good to go.
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