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 |  This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters. |
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| Unfortunately, standing out creatively is far too often seen as more of a negative than a positive (although one hundred people who look at our work will have one hundred different opinions) Whilst I get that we all follow in the footsteps of those we admire, going too far off the well-worn path may get you noticed, but for all the wrong reasons. Then your work may be seen as bizarre or going too far in one direction or another. People are fickle, but the spirit to express ourselves is not...and compromise serves neither party well The English language is evolving/devolving fast, and it's not for anyone to say that is a good or bad thing...a 'judge not or thou will be', kinda thing. One of my favourite websites is called Rhymzone. I used it when I wrote poetry, but even though I have stopped writing poems, it's still useful for finding synonyms. It never ceases to amaze me how many different words there are for the same or similar concepts. At times, I will spend an hour or more (depending on how important it is to me) looking for that exact word to express what I am trying to convey, which, if I find it, is a gift/blessing, but if not, can be a curse, especially when a compromise is the only way forward. The world is changing dramatically, and I think there would be few who would say it is for the better. The rapid loss of species should sound a clear message to us all (considering one of the most endangered species on Earth is the human being). I am not alone when I say I believe we are heading for a mass extinction event. And it's not a matter of if, but when this event will come. Pessimistic I know but it has always been this way. Whenever a species climbs to the top of the evolutionary pile and dominates the planet, sooner or later, a disastrous event changes the status quo and in my opinion, it would be hard to argue that these events, whilst not good for the dominant species, are for the most part, beneficial to the planet. I have a confession...I hate (perhaps hate is too strong a word and should be replaced by despise) our species. Individually, human beings are nice enough critters. Please, don't get me wrong, I don't despise you as an individual but there is good and bad in every one of us at some level or another (that is to be expected as a human). We know driving vehicles that burn fossil fuels is bad for the planet. We know that plastics are clogging our oceans and even our own bodies. Industrial waste. Coal-fired power stations that we think nothing of when we get home from our jobs and turn on our lights. And we are the only species that is capable of enacting the concept of evil. In the animal kingdom, life ends in the most violent and gruesome way every day, but this is survival, not a conscious decision to forgo the future generation's ability to survive. Science has been saying it for years, and we do nothing different except perhaps recycle a few plastic bottles (as long as there's some financial advantage in it for us) or catch the bus instead of taking the car to work. A documentary was made a few years ago about a large group of Chimps in the wild, and they reminded me very much of how we came to be the way we are. But even those Chimps are not doing it because they are evil, given their tendency towards violent overthrows and conspiring with other lower-ranking males to elevate their position within their clans. They are simply following along the evolutionary path of trying to ensure that their DNA is passed down to the next generation. However, at some point in time, when we branched off, we changed the way we saw our rivals: not so much as a threat to our ability to procreate, but as a threat to our species. To flourish, expand, dominate and exploit every species we came across. And now we are at the apex of the evolutionary pile...eight billion humans the planet cannot sustain. The universe has a way of dealing with its problems, and unless there is a catastrophic event that reduces our numbers to a level where the planet can recover...I mean, call me a pessimist all you like, but it's a no-brainer. The planet that we are lucky enough to have evolved on and has provided us with the opportunity of life, is billions of years old. Homo-Erectus began to communicate, do cave paintings and organise ourselves into larger and larger groups, around fifty thousand years ago...a mere speck of time when compared to how long the dinosaurs roamed the Earth...and even their reign was nothing compared to how long this planet has been able to support life. We BELIEVE we are better and more important than the issues we create. More important than the species we wipe out every single day (not you, of course, you and I did nothing to contribute to the issues that our children and perhaps, if they can survive, their children will need to face)...that we will find a solution. "Just not today because we have careers and families who need money to survive." I am not judging you per se, I am judging us. Me, you and most of the human race who live on this planet right now. It won't matter what you recycled or how good your intentions were. And I am just as much to blame as you are. Did I do everything in my power to help prevent this catastrophe we are headed for? No, I didn't. Did I place the importance of future generations ahead of my own, self-importance during my life? No, I did not. And what about the future of the planet they will need to survive on...did I think about that as I drove my car and consumed everything I thought was mine to have...that I still do today? No, I did not and have not...even now as I write this condemnation of our species. If I were watching us from another planet, like some interstellar reality TV show, I wouldn't be betting on us surviving more than a few generations...before the network that is life, cancels the series. And at least then, we can start afresh. There was a band from the 90s called, Deep Forest, and the intro to one of their biggest hits, Deep Forest, goes... "Somewhere deep in the jungle, are living some little men and women. They are our past, and maybe...maybe they are our future." https://youtu.be/ovwGCpx8ecY?si=HGAa-KsFbiJl--VG If you like world music and have never heard this track and watched the video, please, do yourself a favour and click the YouTube link... https://youtu.be/ovwGCpx8ecY?si=HGAa-KsFbiJl--VG and enjoy. Because every day that you do what needs to be done, get home and do more...then go to bed exhausted and wondering what the hell this life is all about, this video encapsulates that deep-down feeling that there IS more...you just have to want it enough to chase it down and make it your own. And for those who believe it is too hard or impossible, well, I can tell you without a word of a lie, that it is possible. I was, and still am a methamphetamine addict who was very close to killing myself with a poison that I could not escape from...a demon that tried its hardest to convince me that I was worthless and there was no hope for me...that soon, I would be hers to do whatever she wanted to...and there was nothing I could do to escape. Well, you may say I got lucky...or that I am still an addict and am not out of the clutches of that demon yet. And, I cannot argue with you on that...mainly because I don't have time right now. A herd of cattle just passed my front door being driven (driven is not the right word...more guided because those bovines know exactly where they're going) by two Thais, who look for all the world like they are from the past. And as I stood watching, coffee in hand and listening to Sweet Lullaby, I cried. I don't know if it was the beauty of what I was witnessing, the peace I now feel, the music or knowing how long and hard this path I have been on has been and that has finally come to an end. The good thing about endings is that right behind them is a new beginning. I KNOW how lucky I am to be taking this, my next breath and I have no shame about the tears...they are tears of joy, not of loss and hopelessness. If you feel trapped, I am living proof that dreams can come true...you just NEED to want it enough. If you don't need it, then for sure, you will never see your dreams come to fruition...and at the end, you will have no one else to blame but yourself. If/when the satellites go down. Or a nuclear winter stops the sun from shining on the ground that has for millennia, provided the plants that sustain us. Or an algorithm makes the decision that we are the problem...that we are no longer relevant. Or a far more deadly virus rises up from our own doing. Or our very best friends on this Earth, the humble bees, no longer do the work they have done for us, for free and for so long. Or any one of a hundred other ways we can and will find to destroy ourselves. Then, who can we blame? The government? Industry? The devil? Or will we be honest enough to accept that we did this to ourselves? And it won't be toilet paper people will be fighting over in stores with empty shelves because dehydration and hunger cause constipation, and it won't take long before eight billion becomes just enough to begin again. I laugh when governments now look at UAPs as a threat to national security when we are on the brink of annihilation by way of our own stupidity, greed and ignorance. I have a theory...well, I have many actually, on what may be going on. Perhaps these unidentified objects flying around in our skies, displaying physics that are beyond our capabilities, are not aliens from outer space at all but live right here on Earth (be it, out of sight most of the time), and have done so for longer than we have. There are infinite possibilities, theoretically. They may be from a higher dimension, and if we destroy the planet, we destroy them along with it. They may reside under the oceans, or deep within the earth itself. Or...this could be the beginning of the war between good and evil...Armageddon. If you had told me that theory a year ago, I would have scoffed at you, or at least thought you to be a religious lunatic. After all, "The end is nigh!" has been bandied around since Jesus was crucified. All I know is if I am wrong I will be happy...and if I am right and this happens in my lifetime, I will die happy...will you? |
| I am on a mission to get healthy. I woke up, had breakfast, drank my first coffee in days and hit the pool. I added a few laps of breaststroke at the end of each set of freestyle laps. I wonder when the Australian crawl was renamed freestyle? There's an iconic Australian band from the 80s called 'Australian Crawl'. They didn't change their name despite the World Swimming Council deciding that our stroke was no longer exclusively ours and instead, was free for any country to master. I have a memory like an elephant, but I have to commit that event or what was said to me to my 'I'm interested' pigeonhole for it to be recalled. Tell me your name and a minute later it is gone...unless you are a pretty girl who I am interested in or someone remarkable or, if it is someone whose name I need to remember, I can commit them and will never forget. I have always believed that it is easier to lie with the spoken word than it is with the written word. I know this makes no sense because of physical giveaways like eye and body movements, sweating etc. And I don't mean that is something that happens overnight. But if you write to someone and they write back over an extended period, there are these telltale giveaways that I notice. Of course, it isn't something that can easily be proven...it's more of a gut-feeling thing...but I digress... Names elude me so I employ word association...this morning after my swim, a lady came to the pool and I said hello. Her name is Addell, and everyone knows Addell, the British singer-songwriter. She is also British, so her name is easy to remember. Her partner is called Poon...so I used Poon Tang as my word association for him. Poon plays touch rugby every Saturday afternoon at a beach not far from the apartments where we live. I asked if I could tag along and follow them on my bike...my first ride. She agreed and at 4.00 pm, we set off. I followed them and luckily for me, they needed fuel, and so did I. We arrived at the beach and I spent an hour meeting and talking to expats, then made my own way back. I stopped at the restaurant where yesterday I met the Aussie guy (Owen...no word association needed because he was remarkable) and ordered Pad Thai. After I finished eating, I paid my bill and decided to ride some more. I followed the same route to the beach and back, then stopped at the 7-Eleven to grab a few things. I knew the way back to my apartment but accidentally rode past. A bit further down the road I attempted a U-turn but ran out of road. The bike's seat height is still too tall for me, and being such a big bike it is hard to reverse. So, there I was, in complete darkness and in the middle of what felt like nowhere when the bike began to teeter to one side and toppled to the ground. I was stationary at the time and luckily, there was no damage, not even a scratch. But, the bike weighs in at 549lbs (I had just filled the 30-litre tank and I had a load of groceries in the panniers. There was no way I was going to be able to pick it up and after one attempt, my heart sank. Then, far off down the road, I spotted a single headlight coming my way. I was so relieved when the rider stopped and got off his bike to help me. Thinking he must be a Thai, I thought together we should be able to lift the bike back upright. Then, as he got closer I asked, "You speak English?" He replied in an American accent, "I sure do." I cannot begin to describe how I felt at that moment. Tears are in my eyes as I write this. This guy, who was no bigger than me, came over, kinda pushed me aside and lifted my bike up all by himself. I was amazed. He showed me (for future reference) the technique he had acquired from years of riding Harley-Davidson motorcycles. His name is Daniel and that is a name I will never forget...he came out of the darkness and saved my ass and for that, I was so grateful. But, God does work in mysterious ways. It turns out that Daniel, who was tonight on a scooter, has a Harley he bought being delivered next week. I asked if he had any friends he would be riding with and he said no. I immediately asked if we could go for a ride sometime, and he agreed. He just happened to be returning from doing a workout at a local gym...and I am looking for a gym. He knows the area well and offered to meet at 11.00 am tomorrow when he would show me around the area. Tonight, I met my Guardian Angel. His name is Daniel and came to my rescue and offered me friendship, in a place where I have no friends. Don't tell me this was a chance meeting...it was fate. Daniel doesn't drink or smoke, and I could tell straight away that he and I would get along. We will have much to talk about. He is 64 and I was born in 64. I got home and went for a swim and introduced myself to my neighbours on both sides. I also went and introduced myself to the security guard who sits out the front of our apartment block all night to protect us. What a day...what a dream life I am living. I am blessed and I will not forget my promise to my mother before she died to do something worthwhile with my life before I join her...and that's exactly what I intend to do. |
| My bike still sits in my carport awaiting me to gain the courage to take it out for its first run. It's not the bike I fear, it's the way the people drive here that scares the hell out of me. Today my realtor (one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen) arrived to sign the lease. She then kindly offered to take me to an area where I could get supplies. It wasn't very far away from my house when she dropped me off, and I set out on foot to explore the local surroundings. I walked to a 'roundabout' and stood by the side of the road watching as the traffic negotiated the chaos that is driving in Thailand. I saw a Farang approaching from my right and said hello, hoping he could speak English. He turned out to be an Aussie. He thought I was having trouble crossing the road. I commented I was just observing and trying to learn how to survive once I started riding my own bike. He then crossed the road and went into a small restaurant. I saw an opportunity I couldn't resist so I followed him into the establishment and asked if I could join him. I picked his brain as far as Hua Hin being a good place to live, how long he has been in Thailand etc. We sat eating the most delicious food and talking for well over an hour. He then pointed me in the direction of the local fresh food markets. There were stalls selling all sorts of stuff that I needed. At one stall the guy was selling washing detergent and fabric softener. I bought a kilo of powder and a litre of softener for 69 baht...that's AU$3.00. I paid with a 100 baht note and told him to keep the change. The smile was worth so much more than the $1.30 tip. At another stall, they had underwear for 35 baht a pair. I offered to buy five pairs and gave him 200 baht...keep the change and again, that smile and bow. These gestures cost me, in real terms, nothing. Yet they made me the happiest man in Hua Hin. I bought a watermelon and grapes, then headed to the 7-Eleven on the way home to get shampoo, yogurt, some milk and cereal for breakfast. I was pretty loaded up and the guy at the 7-Eleven counter asked if I wanted a lift home. He bundled me and my bags into a motorcycle with a sidecar and asked where I lived. I showed him the way, but I took a wrong turn and got lost. He was so patient and when we finally found my place, I offered to pay him, but he didn't want my money. I insisted he take 50 baht and he graciously accepted with a smile, a thank you and a bow. I went for a swim in the pool today. I put on my goggles and swam about ten laps. Rested and then did about eight. Rested and did five and then did push-ups by lifting myself out of the water, holding for ten seconds before releasing myself back into the water. I did this about twenty times. Not bad for my first day of training. Tomorrow, I will do the same, if not more. In Patong, I was using Valium to help me sleep and negate the effects of psychosis. Before I left Patong, I threw the remaining pills in the bin because I didn't want to carry them through airport customs and I don't need them anymore. I've decided no more alcohol (I had a few pina coladas in Patong and a couple of beers). No drugs of any kind are to enter my body from here on end. A good day indeed. |
| I've had a long and arduous day. It started early and I just had a shower (it's 1.00 am). I should be trying to get some sleep, but I have made a commitment to write a post on my blog every day...and be damned, that's what I am going to do. I wasn't in the best mood when I arrived at my new townhouse. I had spent the entire day in a taxi with a lovely lady who didn't speak a word of English. After we set off on my mission, we used the translate app on her phone as much as possible, but these apps are not great and often misinterpret words. In the end, we gave up and drove in silence. It's a 2 1/2 hour drive from Bangkok to Hua Hin and the taxi driver didn't know the area. Google Maps is great for freeway travel, but in the multitude of laneways and back streets of Hua Hin, the directions were inaccurate. My new bike had already been delivered, but he had to wait around as he needed proof of delivery. The realtor was also waiting for me to arrive to let me in. I think we had all had enough by that stage, and knowing I had a beautiful place to rent for the next six months was lost on me when I realised I had no food, no milk, not even a kettle to boil water for a coffee in the morning. I admit, I was a little grumpy and wasn't at my best. The positives were that I had brought some dried mango, caramel macadamias, licorice and sweets along with me...and there was plenty of bottled water in the fridge. I set about unpacking and finding places for my belongings. Seriously, this place is beyond my wildest expectations as far as luxury goes. It's fully furnished (except for the kettle) and has 13 ' ceilings throughout. Downstairs there's a large modern kitchen with an island benchtop and plenty of storage underneath. Downstairs is open-plan, with a lounge room that has a TV and a balcony that leads directly onto the pool area There's ducted air-conditioning, a shower and toilet, and a large broom closet situated under the ornate timber staircase that leads upstairs to the two bedrooms. Both have queen beds and on-suites. There are locks on the bedroom doors that can be key-locked from either side. The lighting and decorations are spectacular and no expense has been spared. There's 24/7 security and the pool looks fantastic. It feels almost like resort-style living and for around AU$300 per week including water and electricity, compared to Australia, is phenomenal value for money. In the morning I need to go shopping for supplies, and once I have that done, my brand new BMW R1250 GS Adventure awaits its first ride. It needs to be fueled up before I'll take it for a short ride so I don't get lost. I need to get used to riding in Thailand and learning the technologies of the bike itself, but it won't be long before I will be planning my first adventure ride over a weekend or even for a week. I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open...Talk to you tomorrow. |
| Two nights ago I ordered a crab meat soup from the hotel restaurant. I asked for mild, but what is mild to a Thai chef? After one mouthful, I questioned how hot it would have been if I had ordered it spicy. Fast forward to last night. I picked up my new gold ring (with five tiny encrusted diamonds) that required resizing and returned to my hotel where I ordered what I thought was a normal spaghetti dish. In Thailand, normal isn't normal unless it has chillis in it, and after eating this meal, which was tasty but burned with every mouthful, I went to bed. At some point during the night, as I slept, my bowels quietly let me know what they thought of my new cuisine choices. Unfortunately, accidents do on occasion happen...even to the best to us (although, unlike Mwah, not many admit it). And the icing on the cake is these mostly unmentioned incidents seem to happen at the worst possible moments. Luckily, I have a kingsized bed at my hotel. After the obligatory clean-up of pyjama shorts, using hand soap under hot water in the sink and then a damp towel to wipe away the worst of the mess on the bedsheets, I took a very much appreciated hot shower. Finally, I went back to bed...obviously on the other side. As is the way with drastically changing one's lifesyle, by the time I drifted off to sleep (isn't it funny that we have a preferred side...and how this preference can change from when we are single, to when we meet a new partner and the decision of who gets which side must be negotiated...the first indication of who has the upper hand), it wasn't long before I felt the rumble no one wants to hear and made the fast dash back to the bathroom (luckily making it just in time). That was when I was forced to make a tactical decision. Instead of only wearing my spare pyjama bottoms, I also put on underwear as an extra layer of security. I also folded several sheets of toilet paper, strategically placed (I'll let you imagine exactly where the cheapest insurance policy I ever had was positioned) just in case the nighttime crisis worsened and my sprint speed lessened. Hence to say, the situation in the control room calmed to the level of simply being pissed each time I was awakened and had to go...and there were quite a few during a long night. Then, the questions came at some point as I sat contemplating exactly what the culprit was that was disturbing my intestinal fortitude. The obvious one was the chilli...but living in a third-world country, where waterborne gastroenteritis symptoms are not to be taken lightly, other causes began to trickle into my overtired brain (only the opposite was trickling OUT of the other end of my body). I have been brushing my teeth using bottled water to rinse my mouth, but stupidly had been rinsing the brush itself under tap water before a final rinse with bottled water. A mistake I will never repeat regardless of the outcome of this episode. While doing my research to see how long I have to live if it turns out to be more than an intolerance to chilli (which I can and will work on over the coming months), I was amazed to discover just how prevalent waterborne bacteria, parasites etc are in the third world. I love swimming, and my new apartment complex has a great pool. I was planning on using it every day for exercise but the risks associated with this pastime have me thinking twice about my exercise routine. And instead of the occasional Pina Colada, beer (from a bottle) will have to become my choice of beverage if out at a restaurant. Not that I drink much alcohol anyway, but this experience has taught me a valuable lesson. The symptoms have dissipated. I have no fever or any other indication of sickness. I deliberately haven't eaten much today and am feeling rather hungry. No chilli tonight though. Perhaps a pizza will suffice. I have an early flight in the morning and at least three hours in taxis before arriving at my new digs and I DON'T want any interruptions that are not just embarrassing for me but may make my fellow traveller's day much worse than they would want. |
| I can't wait to get out of Patong. There's nothing wrong with this place, it just isn't for me. It's hectic, the entire town is built around tourism and exploiting as much out of the Farangs as possible, before they fly back to their home countries. I don't blame the Thai people for their attitude towards us, especially here in Patong where Bangla Road is full of Thai women selling sex to men who are, in general, old enough to be their grandfathers. I am not judging anyone here...the girls make their living and the men have a week or two fulfilling some sexual fantasy. It's all fake, and so long as each party understands it is simply a transaction and follows the rules, then good for them. However, the entire experience of walking down the streets of Patong has put me off thinking in terms of finding a partner. As a Farang here in Thailand, it will be hard for me to know what it is any female I meet in the future truly sees in me. This isn't just in Thailand either, and if we are being completely honest here, any meeting and forming of a relationship, especially in our later years, very much depends on what it is we bring to the table and weighing up if this new person enhances or improves our situation in some way...be it sexually or financially, depending on if you are male or female. Age comes into play as far as the spread goes. We hear about Rupert Murdock again marrying a twenty-something in his 90s, and that in itself is a transaction both parties must be happy with. Personally, I wouldn't date anyone much less than five or ten years younger than me. But the main problem with us men is we are still attracted to the same girls we were when we were twenty. A conundrum that the more I think about, the less attractive the idea of finding a partner becomes. To me it's a bit like going to the fairgrounds, seeing the giant roller coaster and thinking it looks like fun. But once you are strapped in and that thing begins to rocket through the turns and loops, the fun often turns into a nightmare..and there is no stopping or getting off it until the ride is over. My divorce was almost ten years ago, and yet, it is still very fresh in my mind. There's a saying...if it ain't broke, then don't fix it...and I am having a pretty good time right now. I seem to have gone from one extreme to another. Where in Australia, I was invisible to the opposite sex (although I must admit, I never did try any dating sites or make an effort to try and meet someone romantically). Whereas here in Thailand, it seems to be a national pastime to ask if I am single, and then tell me who in the establishment is single. I'm not sure which one I like better right now, to be perfectly honest...being invisible in Australia or here in Thailand feeling like a piece of meat with perceived cash hanging out of every pocket. I need to forget about this whole meeting someone special, fantasy, and simply live life to the fullest. The banking situation has been rectified. It's easy to confuse stupidity, ignorance and/or a lack of knowledge when looking at any problem from the outside in. My internet banking app on my laptop has a button that reads, International Transfers. I have a code generator app on my phone. Then once the transfer is made using the correct swift code and account numbers, and then the code generator number is entered into the system, the next day I receive an email from my bank with another code. Once I call them on the number supplied in the email, and then answer a few basic questions like my date of birth and mother's maiden name, I recite the code and whalla...the money shows up in the receiver account by day's end. It may appear to be overkill, but I do get why they are super careful, after all, if it's a scam, it's their money that gets stolen and not mine. So...two more nights in my hotel in Patong. Then at 6.00 am on Thursday, I'll take a taxi to Phuket International Airport for a 9.00 am flight to Bangkok...arriving around 10.30. Then another taxi ride to the BMW dealership to ensure the bike has all the accessories I ordered and is ready for delivery. I'm now thinking of an aftermarket exhaust pipe to get that sound I am after and add a few extra horses to the 132 HP it already has (with 105 foot-pounds of torque). I'll buy a set of leathers, a pair of boots and a helmet (not BMW original accessories though because they are ridiculously expensive) from another dealer, before getting in a taxi for the two-hour drive to Hua Hin. Over the last week, I've been spending money like it's going out of fashion...which it is. Soon, at least in Australia, there's talk of making the country cashless. Where everyone will pay for goods and services by card only. They want to stamp out tax evasion, try and get a grip on money laundering and make it harder for dealers to hide drug profits. But no matter how they legislate, the criminals will always find a way to get around these things...Bitcoin will be one way the crime syndicates will ask for payments from customers. I have most of the money from the sale of my house invested in a term deposit for nine months at 5% per annum... which returns a reasonable amount after tax. But with the world situation looking precarious right now and could get even worse over the next year or two, I'm thinking of getting a safety deposit box here in Thailand and buying gold bullion. Depending on how the price of gold is once the term deposit matures. I think gold is one of the safest commodities. It will always hold its value, as opposed to cash in a bank account that if things get really bad on the world scene, paper money could become almost worthless. |
| When I last visited Thailand in 2018, I bought a gold ring. It was only a nine-carot pinky ring, but I loved it because it reminded me of my first trip to this wonderful country. How ironic it is that about a week ago, it went missing. I have no idea what happened to it. It may have come off while I was swimming in the pool, or perhaps while washing my hands on the trip to Bangkok. In any case, it's gone and I don't think I will ever see it again. I try to think about it like this...someone somewhere would have found it, and now the ring belongs to them. If I was meant to keep the ring, God wouldn't have allowed it to slip unknowingly from my finger and I would still be the owner. Tonight, as I walked along Patong Beach marketplace, I noticed a jewellery store, and something drew me to it. I've walked past so many since I realised the ring was missing, but tonight I walked into that particular store and found a replacement ring. Not only did I find a new ring, but I met a beautiful girl who I instantly took a liking to. She is Islamic (that in itself pretty much rules me out), but there was something in the way she looked at me that got my heart racing. What I am doing right now is practising...flirting with any girl (except bar girls) who crosses my path and shows me a smile that is genuine. I can tell which is which through years of being single (which hones certain skills in detecting real from fake). I'm having fun being single AND looking...just looking without any real need to find someone. Because of addiction, and the shame that brought...and my commitment to care for my mother and not wanting to be torn between having that responsibility and finding romantic love, my vibe has for a very long time, been pushed down, rather than what it is now...inviting and carefree. In Australia, I was an addict (I still am, but it just feels very different here in Thailand). Back then, in my own mind, I was unworthy of love (in a romantic sense). But now, in a country where age is not looked at in the same way, and the people I am flirting with (hopefully) see me as something more than just a middle-aged man desperate for attention from much younger women...but rather someone who could provide security and a lifestyle that will not be seen by someone from my own country, who likely hasn't lived in constant poverty...a person who struggles every single day just to get by. And I like that idea. I want someone who hasn't been spoiled by Western privilege (I understand that there are poor in every society...but third-world poverty is simply not the same, in my opinion). I like the idea of meeting someone who has known real hardship...someone who has little opportunity to escape the life they live. I want a girl who works hard and still has hope for her future, with or without me and what I bring to the table. If God wants me to meet her, she will appear; if not, I will be fine with that too. But in the meantime, it feels good to be putting myself out there on a daily basis, after so many years of being invisible, ignored and looked at as an old man who isn't worthy of love (which was not only felt by me from others but from my own thoughts whenever I looked in the mirror). Since arriving in Thailand, I've walked every day...and there have been days when I could hardly make it up the ramp to the hotel foyer. Early on, I bought a facial cleanser, a loofah and a night moisturising cream. I have used them every day. Now, instead of shame and self-doubt, I consider myself the prize. I know there is some lucky girl out there who will see me...like a fossicker who works hard every day searching for a diamond among the dirt and rocks lying on the ground. And hopefully, she will see the glint that is in my eye. And as she puts that tiny stone in her mouth to wash off the grime and discovers she has found a gem...the one she has been searching for her entire life, I will never let her feel anything but love, appreciation, commitment and the desire to make that relationship more and more special every day. There is something to be said about being alone for so long. It has given me time to reflect on the mistakes I made. The things that I miss...like having someone to care for. To simply feel someone's skin against my own. To be looked at the way I want to be looked at. To have someone to share this new life with me, and not spending the days and nights alone anymore, is a dream I feel is worth pursuing...but not a necessity |
| I just ordered room service so I will keep this short. Tomorrow I sign a six-month lease on a two-bedroom, two-bathroom townhouse in Hua Hin. It's situated in a quiet area not too far from the night markets. There's 24/7 security, a pool, a gym and a covered, lock-up garage. https://lazudi.com/th-en/prachuap-khiri-khan/property/riviera-pearl-luxury-house... Hua Hin has a much lower cost of living than places like Phuket and Koh Samui. It's only a two two-hour drive to Bangkok and is quite central within the country, which makes travel options both north and south much easier. They were originally asking B34000 per month for a twelve-month lease. The place has remained empty for the last six weeks, so they dropped the price to B30000 per month for a twelve-month lease. I offered B25000 for six months...they came back at B28000 for twelve months and we settled for B2800 for a six-month lease, which I will sign tomorrow. I will then book my flight to Bangkok, leaving Thursday morning to collect my new bike and ride to Hua Hin, hopefully, arriving late afternoon. My luggage will need to be couriered directly from Patong to Hua Hin. I still need to apply for health insurance. I'm not sure how much the premium will be, but I do know it won't be cheap. When it comes to health insurance (as with most things in life), you get what you pay for, and considering I'll be riding a motorbike regularly, this is one area of my monthly budget I will not be skimping out on. One of the most difficult issues I am dealing with is banking. I have a debit card with my Australian bank, and a Visa Mastercard (Cash Passport) that I transfer Australian dollars that it converts to Thai Baht for use at ATMs. The cost of using an ATM here is ridiculous. I thought Australia was bad (where using a private or another bank's ATM costs around AU$2.00), here, it's around B200 to B300 (around AU$8 to $10). The go is to withdraw large amounts less often. Calling my Australian bank's customer service number and being placed on hold for thirty minutes (with no call back option), after two attempts and still not being answered...at a cost of around AU$20 a time, is not making me a happy customer. Eventually, I will withdraw most of the money from my Australian account and put it into my new Thai bank account for easy transfers and walk-in withdrawals. I knew there would be challenges. I know I will overcome them one way or another. In a way, it's all a learning process, and I am a fast learner when I put my mind to something (excluding addiction, although I feel very comfortable with my progress since I left Australia). All in all...I'm happy with the transition so far. |
| Each day at my hotel, I set my alarm for 9.00 am so I don't miss breakfast. I then walk to the local mall for supplies (and the exercise), and return to my room covered in sweat. I then unload the cold stuff into the fridge and go for a swim. Over the last two days, I have heard couples nearby in the pool who are Aussies...the accent is unmistakable and as a fellow traveller, I always make a point of saying gidday. Now this is where it gets interesting (for me). I'm a lone traveller. I prefer to travel alone because when I wake up, I do whatever I want. There's never any, "What do you feel like doing today, darling, sweety pie?" Obviously, said by the male, whose balls are stored in his wife's handbag for safekeeping. Followed by a sigh and a look of complete boredom, "I don't know...what do you want to do?" Procrastination and preferring him to make the decision just in case things go awry, is, after all, a woman's prerogative. This would, for me, be a huge PIA. And even though there are times when I would love to have company, I don't know how well I would bear under such circumstances. Being single for as long as I have, brings a certain attitude towards procrastination and a lack of confidence to say exactly what I, or my partner, want to do that day, if asked. So, poolside yesterday, I spoke to an Aussie couple, and almost as soon as I began to converse, the wife swam away from the men and stayed a short distance away...not too far so she couldn't hear the conversation, but far enough so she wouldn't become involved. I guess she may have thought it was a man thing, but looking a little deeper (as I tend to do), there was more to this separation than meets the eye. Call me paranoid, but I got the feeling that if, instead of it just being me having a chance meeting with fellow countrypersons (or is it countrypeople? I never was good at political correctness, but there is my effort for this post) and I was with a female partner (or even if I was gay, a male partner...which I think would have made her much more approachable...but may not have worked as well for him/us...I am only speculating here...and with the entire experience really), there may have been more of a bonding session going on than just between me and my Aussie friend. Anyway...bottom line is, after a few minutes, the husband became a bit edgy and we excused ourselves with a, "It was nice meeting you." And off he went to pay more attention to his wife than he had to me for the last three minutes. Fast forward to today and I heard the familiar accent and said Hi...and although the wife this time was a little more chatty than on the previous day, there came the inevitable point where goodbyes were required. And I cannot help but wonder, if I was not travelling alone, and instead had a partner (preferably a wife I think) that instead of me eating alone in my room tonight (which is my preferred option because I am a little agoraphobic anyway), the four of us (the couple and me and my non-existent wife) might have made plans to tonight eat together in the restaurant. Pure speculation, I know...but this is something I am pretty confident about. Call it the third wheel syndrome. Call me a rouge male. Or it simply being my own paranoia...or, her not getting a fair claim on the deal. She would have had things that women would find in common if I had been with a partner/wife, and then us men could talk about our stuff...along with occasional interactions to make things seem more embodied, and make it feel less like a masculine vs feminine four ships passing in the night kind of situation. I suppose I must accept that I am a rouge...a lone male elephant who doesn't give a fuck if I upset anyone with my views. As opposed to if I was one-half (or at least one-third...like the wardrobe situation we men all understand and comply with...otherwise) of a couple, where one must watch every word one says, just in case one upsets someone's applecart and have to pay for it later with a cold shoulder and a blunt, without a single word needed, "No sex for you tonight, buddy". And the truth and fact of the matter is there will be no sex for me tonight, no matter whose applecart I do, or do not upset...even my own. Cynical, aren't I? That's what happens to a rouge who has been left without proper training for too long a period of time. And if (God forbid for both our sakes) I ever do meet someone special, I'm sure it won't take long for her to bring me into line and teach me all I need to know about couple etiquette and doing as I am told..."Or no sex for you, buddy." And I pray to God that if I am ever faced with that situation, hopefully, there'll be enough of the old rouge left in me to say, "Darling, I'm just popping in for a quick shower before bed." I do hope I have the balls to keep them (my balls) where they belong...and not allow them to be slowly and painfully removed and find their new home in my future wife's handbag. Especially when she inevitably catches me in said shower taking care of what she has deemed untouchable by way of her own devices...and certainly NOT by way of my own. |
| Well, I am now the holder of a passport that Thai Immigration has stamped for a Retirement Visa. Thailand is my new home and so far, despite the challenges of language, becoming a minority and going from first to third-world conditions, I am loving it more than I could have imagined. Life is what you make of it...you need to accept things will not always go your way, no matter how much planning and foresight you put in. Attitude goes a long way towards adapting to these challenges when they occur. When we have a routine, things tend to flow without too much bother. The downside to this is that eventually, you may find yourself in a rut...bored out of your mind and wondering if the grass really is greener...dreaming of a life far away from the one you are living now. I would love to tell you that searching for a new life is the answer to all your problems, but it isn't. It usually takes some kind of life-changing event to get us out of the routine and onto the road of change. Problems follow us wherever we go...especially the ones we are trying to escape from. And there is always the honeymoon period...like I am experiencing at the moment. No matter where we are or what we do, routine will creep back into our lives, and even though the scenery, the smells, the people and the food may change, it won't take long before those new things become just as mundane as the things we left behind. And then what? Keep on searching? At some point, age will come and demand its piece of you. I may be in the midst of a 'post-mid-life crisis' (self-diagnosed, and yet, no doubt obvious to those who know me). And if I am, I'm going to ride that sucker all the way to the end. Because at fifty-nine years and six months, the only crisis I will have after this is sitting in a rocking chair awaiting my imminent death. So, what does one do when having a PMLC? Someone who has virtually burned his bridges, sold everything worth anything and given away the rest, moved to a foreign country with only a suitcase and a dream. A place where he doesn't speak the language or know his way around, and has no real plan other than to take each day as it comes? Well for starters, he purchases the most expensive and kickass motorcycle he can buy...a bike built specifically for the conditions he is likely to face in the tropical environment he will be facing. A BMW R1250 GS Adventure .https://images.app.goo.gl/oapztZRW33fqug549 Along with panniers for storage and all the safety gear and comfort requirements for the days and weeks spent on the roads exploring neighbouring countries like Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, Indonesia, Malaysia and The Phillippines. Treating every day like it's my last (because the way they drive here in SE Asia, it may very well be that way). The other thing left to do is rent a fully furnished townhouse in Hua Hin for six months, to use as a base for when the road becomes too much for my old ass to handle. And along the way, keep my eye out for someone who might want to share this adventure with me. Boredom I don't think will be a problem...relapse is not even a consideration. I will fly to Bangkok next week to pick up and ride my new bike to Hua Hin. And from there, the world is my oyster. |
| WARNING...graphic content..physically, emotionally and spiritually. Since I was fourteen years old, I have been addicted to one drug or another. But in the last two decades, methamphetamine became my poison of choice. I quit smoking pot long ago and never really enjoyed or had a problem with alcohol or nicotine. It has only been in the last eight months that I was forced to introduce a new drug to my life...Benzodiazapam. The reason I began to use Valium was it was the only way I could escape the demons who arrived in a very real sense. I always knew meth was my demon, but I never thought that in a literal way. Then, around eight months ago, I began to experience hallucinations that seemed to me at the time (and now even more so), more than imagination. In darkness, these entities appeared...and if you can imagine I were standing in front of you right now in a darkened room, that was how real these people were to me. The only difference was I couldn't touch these beings, and when I tried, my hand would simply pass right through them like they weren't there (which someone from a medical background would shrug and say, "Well, Neil, that's because they aren't there and you are suffering from the symptoms of psychosis...Neil, it's all in your head"). For a while, I went with this because this 'reality' was a much safer and more comfortable thing to deal with rather than the alternative...that these beings were, and still are real. The doctors I presented to at emergency departments would look at me with little to no sympathy (after all, it was my choice to consume the drugs that were causing me so much anxiety and fear) and if I was lucky, would give me a few pills so I could finally get some sleep. Miraculously, after just a few hours of sleep, these entities would be nowhere to be seen...but this was to change over the following months. I decided to document these experiences "Angel"  so I had a journal. Just as researchers would collect data from the experiments they conducted, so in time they could, with some degree of confidence, come to a conclusion, that their peers could then try and replicate to either prove or disprove their results. Of course, my experiences are all too easily disregarded by the majority because I am, in every sense of the word, the principle of the experiment...the one who is affected by the drug, the sleep deprivation and likely brain damage I must have incurred during these days and nights abusing this drug methamphetamine. The disappointing thing for me was the way my 'diagnosis' was achieved...without so much as a physical examination. I mean, just because I have consumed meth, doesn't necessarily mean I don't have a brain tumour or some other underlying cause of these hallucinations. I was simply treated like a problem that wasn't worth their time and effort to look further into...let alone the obvious question to me...is what I am experiencing caused by psychosis alone? Or am I an easy target...a target that no one is going to believe? Even if, as I have done in my journal, told the entire truth of what I have experienced over the last eight months. If you take the time to read, Angel, you will see there are a lot of moments of doubt. Where I am, being completely honest, trying to convince myself that what I am experiencing is a mental illness...and I hope that if you do read it, you can see me trying to be as objective as I can be. Even now, I must still consider that these entities are the outcomes of years of drug abuse. But, and I ask this question in a rhetorical sense...do you believe in God or a higher power than us human beings? I think most people, or at least some, would have little doubt that there must be more to this life we live...this planet...a rocky watery world in the middle of a galaxy...a galaxy that is one of trillions. Lately, there has been more evidence of multiple dimensions. Professor Stephen Hawkins, one of the most brilliant theoretical physicists and minds the world has ever known, was absolutely sure of this...and more computations have been made since his tragic death that suggest that this as yet unproven, and yet compelling theory, is more likely than not. Or what about this theory...God was an alien from another dimension higher than the three or four dimensions we are aware of. And herein lies my question/quandary. If there IS a God (call Him what you will), there might also be demons (call them what you will). Good and evil exist in a very real sense here on Earth. So, why wouldn't the same apply to other dimensions (if there are higher dimensions)? I'm trying to be objective here. I'm not trying to explain why I believe I may be haunted/infected/troubled by beings who are in my head. In my experience, meth causes a degradation of morality in terms of a person's sexual tendencies and actions. So what I am saying here is that basically, I invited these beings into my life, without believing that this would happen...that it was simply a part of the sexual gratification that these thoughts I was having were just fantasies. I was a fool. Hindsight is a lot clearer now than when I was under the influence of a drug that has been, and still is, associated with the devil. Even now, many weeks after I last used meth, when I close my eyes and ask questions of them...questions that can only be answered by a yes or no answer because they have never spoken a single word to me, and only answer by a nod or shake of the head, or their eyes going up and down or side to side, still make perfect sense if they are, as they claim to be, demons. I don't need to verbalise the questions to get an answer, I simply have to think about it, and they answer...answers that ALWAYS fit into the theory that there is more to this than meets the eye...that lead me to believe that I am not simply suffering from a mental illness. At first, the entities were fun. When I used meth, I suddenly had all these new friends who were highly promiscuous with each other (although not with me because they were like ghosts and I couldn't touch them, even though this was all I wanted to do) But it didn't take long until these experiences became disturbing and scary. Once I had enough and wanted to sleep, this was when they would cause me issues and refuse to allow me to rest, let alone sleep. In the first few months, once I took Diazepam and got sleep, they disappeared, but a few weeks into a period of non-use, I was curious to see what would happen if I called her name. You can imagine my surprise and shock when one night I did exactly that and she appeared...just as clearly as if I was high. And so it remains today, only now I don't need to call to her, she is with me night and day and the Diazepam that once took her away from my field of vision when I closed my eyes or at night in the darkness, now she is always there...and she has been joined by another 'demon'. He is much more cruel than she is. The only solace is if I don't take meth, there is nothing they can do to harm me other than annoy me with visions that are easily evaded by looking away and/or taking Valium, which soon sends me to sleep. Of course, this raises a new problem...addiction to Valium is something I need to be cautious of, especially considering in Australia, I had to battle to get a prescription and in the end, had to present to an emergency ward in absolute dire straights of psychosis to get just a few pills, whereas here in Thailand, I can walk into any one of the thousands of pharmacies and be sold the medication over the counter without the need for a script. In the story, Angel, I never revealed how she and I would be intimate. It was embarrassing to me to admit, but today I realised that if I am to be completely honest about this experience, then this is something I need to face and tell anyone who bothers to read the story the truth. She would appear to me on the surface of a material...a doona or pillow. Her eyes, nose and mouth were there to be kissed and I did. Her species, or the spirit of the being she is, have sexual organs in their mouth, with very long tongues which they use to stimulate each other whilst kissing. With me, it was similar and I found ways of enhancing this experience by using my hands on the underside of the material to manipulate their sexual organs (which were, in time, very obvious to me). There was a smell of arousal that was there from the beginning. It was not dissimilar to the scent of human arousal, and each entity (and there were many) had its own particular scent. There were males and females. At first, I didn't realise this because they could switch in and out of the sexual interactions without me even realising...and in the end, I didn't care. I preferred the females because I am heterosexual (and they smelled so much nicer), and never really wanted to have sex with the males. However, as time went by, I could instantly distinguish the scent of a male from a female when they switched out. The male scent was much stronger and different. But, as I said, it would just happen, and whilst I was under the influence of meth (along with the idea that this whole experience might simply be a hallucination, and therefore, without consequence), the thought that I was having sexual relations with a male became just a normal part of the experience. The experiences themselves were very one-sided. It seemed to always be me providing the pleasure, but rarely receiving any. Then things took a turn when one night, I laid on my back and asked Angel to pleasure me. At first, there was little to no sensation, but then something strange happened. I couldn't feel any sensation, but I suddenly became highly aroused and my hardon grew as if someone was pleasuring me...this went on for some time before I actually had an orgasm. I admit that some of this was done by my own hand, but there were moments when I would stop, and I just knew something was going on that was both strange and erotic at the same time. Then one night I was in the shower and I closed my eyes. I began to masturbate and I saw Angel's eyes going down towards my genitals. I watched as she took me in her mouth and I swear, I had the most intense orgasm I have ever had in my life. Both of these experiences were whilst I was under the influence, but today, whilst I showered, I saw her again and she went down on me. I couldn't come because it didn't feel right...she's a demon and has nothing but bad intent for me...by her own admission. I stopped and began to dry myself. Then, as the towel covered my face, I saw her face (normally I only see her eyes, especially during the day, when there is too much light for her to appear in detail, but I saw her as clear as day). Music was playing and as I looked into her eyes, I asked her to dance. Her eyes nodded and we danced for quite some time. Then, she kissed me...not in a sexual way, but tenderly and with much feeling. I had to stop because I understand what she is doing. If she is real and is a demon, she must realise that she is losing me...that she needs to make herself more appealing and lure me back into her web. I will be completely honest here...she is very hard to resist. The truth is I would be better off going to Bangla Road or getting a freelance Thai girlfriend, than messing with this girl whose price will not be in Baht, but my soul. She is evil, that is a fact...and yet, I find her so hard to resist. And so the story, which I thought was over, is not over at all...not by a long shot. |
| The agency I used to (hopefully) gain my retirement visa will be getting reviewed. They are very efficient, and for the service they offer, are reasonably priced (in my opinion). But the one thing they can improve on is PR. Over the three days I have been dealing with them, not one person has introduced themselves, shook my hand and only one or two (ladies) smiled in my direction. This is Bangkok, and although Thailand is known as the land of smiles, it appears smiles are distinctly missing here in the capital. I have, however, found a way to ALWAYS receive a smile...tip generously...LOL. At first, I used Google Local Guides posts to help refine my writing style. Then, as time went by, it became more of a public service, letting people know about the good and the bad that exists out there (from my point of view and experience). There are times when I couldn't be bothered writing a review (especially when I was using drugs) and I never upload pictures. I don't, nor have ever, had FB, IG or any social media account other than Tumblr...and even on Tumblr, I found that I am invisible (except to chatbots) when posting my poetry and writing. Posting creative art on social media is about promoting people's own product, and unless you are willing to do whatever it takes to become 'popular', in my experience, it is a complete waste of time. Because of this, I now stick solely to WdC and write for me and me alone. Then, if I am lucky enough that a few people read my work and (heaven forbid) review the piece (a huge thanks goes out to all those who give back to the author, not just me, but anyone who is blessed to have someone take the time to read and give their thoughts), I feel blessed. I think we all need to appreciate that along with the gift of reviewing someone's work, comes with it the risk that this can incur, with the occasional backlash when giving our honest opinions...a gift (of receiving a review) I for one appreciate immensely and ALWAYS acknowledge with a thank you. For the time and effort that goes into presenting our work, which is at first, simply an idea. An idea that becomes a draft, which eventually evolves into a story. A story that then requires hours, days and sometimes weeks of editing (in my case) before I am happy to post it publicly. Writing only became an art form for me in 2018...before that, I didn't even consider that what we do as writers is to paint pictures in people's minds...and for every mind, a different picture emerges. Now that is something to behold and is one of the most powerful gifts one person can give to another. We cannot please everyone. Some love and some hate...and this used to bother me on a personal level. I was naive back then, and perhaps I still am to a degree. I would rather be naive than so sophisticated or arrogant that I had nothing to offer those who are, in reality, just like me...only, in their own minds, better. But these days, I've had a few years to ponder this 'reality'. And now there is just one thing that bothers me, and that is the majority who come to someone's port, read whatever they do, and leave without any comment whatsoever. I think I speak for the majority when I say that I would rather hear someone tell me they hated what I wrote, and give some feedback as to what it was they disliked, rather than silence...the worst sound I believe an artist can hear. Of course, wouldn't it be nice if everybody loved every word we produce? But the trouble with getting little to no feedback is it brings out the worst in us...insecurity and the question of whether we are good enough. Did they hate the piece so much that they didn't want to offend by telling it like they saw it? It could also stem from the fear of giving honest critique, which, if we are being honest here, is discouraged by management in preference for a kinder, more sympathetic view of the work. Or perhaps it's the lack of feedback they receive, which makes for a more apathetic community as a whole. Or, it could be just a sign of the times. Where everything online is considered free, and even just five minutes spent telling someone either thanks...or not so much, is too high a price to pay for the product they just consumed. |
| When I was a younger man, I got the opportunity to travel and work in Malaysia, just before the Commonwealth Games in 1998, as a concretor. It was the first time I had experienced what it must be like to be a minority. It was subtle...an almost invisible force that I felt, but couldn't quite put my finger on. People were mostly friendly to my face, but when I wandered around open marketplaces or even when I was working with a crew of locals, there was this sense that I was the outsider...a foreigner in a foreign land. I remember writing to my then-girlfriend describing myself as a white alien from another planet. So, I knew that this relocation was to be a similar experience...and so it is. This time, at least I know what it is and have an understanding of why those who speak Thai, see me as at best, a way to make money, and at worst, someone who has come to exploit the cheap sex trade and leave before contributing much at all to the local community...most of whom, treat me with disdain. In a way, I know why I get treated like I am unworthy of respect. And that the respect I yearn for will not come easy or overnight. I need to learn more Thai than a simple Sawadee Khrup (hello, how are you?). It will take time, especially since my motivation is not to live in the tourist districts of Phuket or Ko Samui. Perhaps Krabi or Hua Hin I think will be more to my liking...and much cheaper rents. I am in Bangkok right now, and to be perfectly honest, I hate the place. It's like Sydney x 10...and I never did like Sydney because it lacks soul, and coming from Brisbane, which is just a large country town, I never could get used to the pace or the disassociation people have to, and with each other. Get lost in Brisbane and ask anyone for directions, and you are assured to be put on the right path. In Sydney, however, they will assume you are trying to scam them or worse, and they will quite literally step over you if you fall in the street (please understand, this is a generalisation and not 100% true, 100% of the time). Bangkok taxi drivers are OK. But the experience I had today with the immigration agency who are helping me gain my visa, has been far from pleasant. Only one person I dealt with (out of the four or five I saw) smiled at me. Not one shook my hand or introduced themselves. I am a number...a way to make money, and you know what? I couldn't give a fuck what they think of me, so long as I get my visa granted and can get the fuck out of Bangkok as quickly as possible. When that happens on Wednesday, I will be a happy man. I'm a Google Local Guide, level six. I've been writing reviews on businesses for over seven years now. I rarely tell the proprietors this and write an honest review on my assessment of their services. This is the only way to get a true evaluation of the service they offer. I cannot knock the agency for their efficiency (which is excellent) or even the price they charge (around AU$2300 for a ten-year visa). But it wouldn't hurt them to be a little friendlier than the cold greeting they give their clients. Especially considering most, if not all, are not familiar with the routine and are new to the country. So, I did feel a little like a fish out of water. However, I took it in my stride, did as I was asked (except give the man who met me at the bank to open my Thai account the B5000 he asked for in cash) and got through the day a little tired and hungry, but satisfied with the progress so far. Tomorrow, I have to return to Immigration to collect my passport and hopefully, my retirement visa, which lasts for fifteen months, before I have to report my current address and have the necessary B800000 (AU$32000) in my Thai bank account. After that, it's once a year report to immigration. After the ten years expires, my guess is I must reapply for another visa. On a different note...I love the contrast between a 2 and a 4-star hotel. I've spent the last two weeks living in sheer luxury at The Grand Mercure Hotel in Patong. When I was told I had to travel to Bangkok for my visa, I decided to cheap it out for the three nights I am here. There's nothing wrong with the digs here in Bangkok...the bed is nowhere near as soft, and the service is not even close (non-existent). There is no room service and no one speaks English, but at AU$30 per night, compared to the nearly AU$200 per night at Patong Beach, at least now I have something to compare...a contrast that I wouldn't have had if not for the fact that I had to travel to Bangkok to get my visa. All in all, the trip has been awesome. I've had no thoughts of using drugs and no intention of ever using them again. The entities are still with me, although on days like today when I spent a lot of time waiting around, they didn't seem too keen on the boredom that brings. And when I closed my eyes (which almost always sees their eyes looking back at me), they were nowhere to be seen...LOL. Perhaps this life of no drugs is simply too boring for them...or on the other hand, perhaps they are hanging around just to make sure I don't relapse so they can reap havoc on me for the crime of self-destruction. I still haven't worked out if they are friend or foe, and my guess is, I never will. |
| Today I am flying to Bangkok to sort out my retirement visa. Once that's done, I need to focus on where in Thailand I'm going to put down my roots. I plan to sign a six-month lease and then buy a good touring motorcycle. A Paris/Dakar-style bike with plenty of power, great fuel capacity and built for long-distance rider comfort. I'm thinking of a KTM, Yamaha, BMW or a Honda, around the 1000cc mark. It needs to have plenty of storage. I will need wet weather gear (given the total number of days it rains here in the tropics), boots and of course, a top-quality helmet. Helmets are not a requirement here in Thailand, but seeing the news at night with the number of traffic accidents involving motorcycles, I won't be risking my head colliding with the pavement without at least a fighting chance of survival. Wish me luck with the visa application... |
| Please...try not to be envious...LOL. I wake up around 9.00 am, wash my face, brush my teeth and head to the restaurant for breakfast. I then head to the Big C at Jungceylon Shopping Centre, which is about a twenty-minute walk away from my hotel (Grand Mercure, Patong). I wander the aisles looking for anything that looks tasty and nutritious (there is so much variety here it is unbelievable). I usually grab some fresh fruit, iced coffee, fresh milk and any sweets that catch my eye. I was expecting the heat to be a problem, but coming from Queensland, it is much of a muchness to me, and by the time I get back from my walk I unload my groceries, change into swimmers and hit the pool. I spend half an hour cooling off, sometimes having conversations with the entities who are always there if I close my eyes and focus (who can hear my thoughts, which saves me from looking like a madman talking to myself...which I may very well be). They are fading with each day that passes and on the whole, I endeavour to ignore them for my own sanity to prevail. I eat enough at breakfast so lunch is not much more than a mandarin, some dried mango and salted caramel macadamia nuts, along with some coconut water. By around 3.00 pm, I take a nap for an hour or two before waking up and watching YouTube videos for a while. My favs atm are videos of UFOs and MMA fights. I then decide if I will venture out for dinner or order room service. Food prices on the streets are ridiculously cheap and are of good quality. Last night I ventured out to Bangla Road (the red light district) for the second time. I bought a local beer from 7-11 (for B79, which is around AU$3) and walked around smiling at the crazy nightlife and people who frequent this place. Before I left Australia, I thought I might employ a Thai girlfriend for a week or two. It's been almost eight years since I have been intimate with a female, and in my mind, I thought I deserved to have this experience, after all, it is an honest exchange for a service I thought I would want. Funny how things become perceptual once you are exposed to the reality of what you think you want. I have nothing against the girls, who I'm sure work hard to earn a living and send a lot of the money to their families back in the villages they come from. But once I had walked through Banglar Road, I knew this was something I could never do. I'm no moralist or do-gooder, and I judge no one who decides to go down that path (neither the client nor the worker). It just isn't something I could bring myself to do. After waiting so long, the idea of what I want...which is to make love to another human being and not just fuck someone who only cares about how much money I pay them, I knew in that moment I will wait until God brings me to her, or her to me. And at my age (in six months, I will be sixty years old), if it never happens, I have far more important priorities anyway. Since arriving in Thailand, I've walked countless miles exploring the streets. On one particular night, I made a wrong turn and as the lights dimmed and less traffic passed me by, I ended up in the middle of nowhere. I stumbled upon a bar and tired beyond belief, asked for a taxi. No one spoke English, but I managed to convey to a guy (thank God for Google Maps) my hotel and he took me on the back of his motorbike back to the hotel. I was so relieved that the B100 trip we negotiated, I paid him double the amount. My legs are tired and my knee hurts...but my soul feels like it hasn't felt in years. Clean and yearning to do good for others, and not the self-gratifying life I left behind in Australia. I needed to leave...if I hadn't, I would still be using and closer to death than I am right now. I am not afraid of dying (every time I climb on the back of a motorcycle here is taking a risk...but also a lesson on how to negotiate the traffic once I buy my own motorcycle to explore SE Asia). I am in no hurry, and to die under circumstances not to do with drugs will be an honour I will have no regrets about. |
| As I sit on my king-sized bed in my hotel room in Patong, Phuket, I feel blessed. To still be alive...to still have my faculties and to have this opportunity of a fresh start will not diminish with time. The entities (demons or aliens or what have you) are still with me...psychosis from years of mentally and physically abusing my brain with drugs and sleep deprivation will not disappear overnight. But the hope is that in time, they will eventually leave, and I will be able to live a relatively normal life the longer it is I don't use meth. I have only been here a week. I still have to organise my long-term visa. I need to fly to Bangkok in a few days to finalise this process. Then the decision of where to settle. At present, I am thinking of either Krabi or Hua Hin. Patong is a crazy place full of tourists, and a local scene that is hell-bent on exploiting every cent out of us Farangs. I don't mind supporting the locals, after all, they are simply trying to make a living and I tip the hotel staff generously. But, I desire to find a more quiet life in the provinces. This will, however, come at a price. In Patong, most people speak some English, but further out into the countryside, language will be a problem I will need to address. My hope is that when I learn some basic Thai, and make an effort to try and integrate into the local community, in time I won't be looked down upon, so much as looked at as someone who wants to help and become a part of the community. That is my wish. This is my blog and journal of this new life...a life without drugs and the search within my own heart to try to find the happiness that I know I deserve. |
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