wanderlust

we landed on monday night intact and wen kien's dad gave the kembangan clubbers a ride home ("next time call after you land"). unpacking alone back in my room, i look at my new books and stack up my new dvds and think about when im going to book the flight back.



khao san was most parts of the trip for me. it was quiet and clean in the mornings when i'd walk alone for breakfast before the rest woke up. and it'd be drunk and dirty at nights with the rest of the gang. it'd be playing thai songs over the PA as i walked home to the guesthouse in the mornings. and crazy/ drunk ang mohs and asians in the evenings ("only after five").



the company was good. ahmad his pizzle shit self, getting himself sick and making me carry his backpack over half the city trying to find a doctor (which in the end came with a lawyer attached, ostensibly for malpractice suits, i told them). mostly we told him to TLAM (talk less act more) because he was posing himself witless. mag was at her ang mo kio housewife best and ivan was the stern-faced straight boy back in the couch at Night Boys.



thais were quirky and infectious in their silent ways. we loved the king for as long as we were there and "what you want?! what you want?!" became synonymous with "why, you...". thai food like the kind we ate in singapore was well, like the kind we ate in singapore, but thai food like the kind the thais ate was, we agreed unanimously, smelly and deemed worthy cause for a divorce.


but more than anything, i sent my heart to the netherlands...