After a two month hiatus from blogging, I am returning with
recollections--recollections of the two month hiatus from blogging. I do
not feel like my vacation was a "whirlwind" or that it "flew by."
Actually, eight weeks of vacation feels exactly like eight weeks of
vacation when entire weeks are defined by a specific activity, reunions,
and locations. This is the fourth and final entry of journal "highlights"--here is the first entry, the second entry, and the third entry (which was the first half of my time in Thailand). These are excerpts from what I wrote while I was in or around Chiang Mai and Cambodia. Hereafter, I promise my blog's contents will shift from personal journal regurgitation.
***
01/28
I slept terribly last night; I woke repeatedly to mosquitoes biting my face. At least they weren't bed bugs.
Our cubby in our train car sleeps four passengers. Coincidentally, I bump into a fellow alum from my childhood summer camp--he sleeps two-cubbies-down.
01/29
"Good morneen," the car manager calls as she walks the aisle. "Brekfest fifteen minoots."
I slide open my lower berth's curtains. The air-con reasserts its unforgettable presence without the poor shield that was the curtain; I've been freezing for the nearly nine hours of Benadryl-clouded sleep. At some point in the night, I wake to put on my flannel; the cotton blanket does not match the pillow in comfort-level.
While eating my rice soup with chicken, I join our cubby's roommates (a body-odor-plagued French couple) in watching the hills covered in tropical forest--not quite rainforest. We rumble past a pineapple orchard, and I wonder if I'm not stationary while everything crashes past.
 |
| Eyes of the ele |
01/28
I slept terribly last night; I woke repeatedly to mosquitoes biting my face. At least they weren't bed bugs.
Our cubby in our train car sleeps four passengers. Coincidentally, I bump into a fellow alum from my childhood summer camp--he sleeps two-cubbies-down.
01/29
"Good morneen," the car manager calls as she walks the aisle. "Brekfest fifteen minoots."
I slide open my lower berth's curtains. The air-con reasserts its unforgettable presence without the poor shield that was the curtain; I've been freezing for the nearly nine hours of Benadryl-clouded sleep. At some point in the night, I wake to put on my flannel; the cotton blanket does not match the pillow in comfort-level.
While eating my rice soup with chicken, I join our cubby's roommates (a body-odor-plagued French couple) in watching the hills covered in tropical forest--not quite rainforest. We rumble past a pineapple orchard, and I wonder if I'm not stationary while everything crashes past.
