Travelling Without Moving?

     It seems appropriate that I'm reading The Time Traveller's Wife at the same time that I am locked in this seemingly endless time-locked state of being in transit. It's disorienting, and although in the book each chapter begins with the respective ages of the main characters,' it still causes a sense of confusion.

     Being in a plane(s) for many, many hours has a somewhat similar effect. It's considerably more acute than the result of not being sure of the age/familiarity with each other of some fictional literary characters, but it's essentially the same. I feel like I've been existing "out of time" for the past 12?15?26? hours. Our travel plans have not worked out exactly as planned - after being unaware of a schedule change in the first flight of our trek, we were given a couple options of how to make it to Thailand, and the one we chose has resulted in a nifty little detour to South Korea. Unfortunately, we're just seeing the tarmac at the airport, but I did see a couple people walking around out there with glow sticks, and they were most definitely shorter than me, so I'm somewhat satisfied that I've had an authentic South Korean experience. North Korea seems considerably more interesting, what with its being the birthplace of the greatest amateur golfer of all time, its cults-of-personality supreme leaders, the sexist man of the year and its penis fish. Although I think South Korea might have those too. But to be able to say that I hung out (sort of, not really) with Kim Jon-Un and (by proxy of his being buddies with the supreme leader) Dennis "The Worm" Rodman would pretty much knock the socks off of anyone I met for the next 17 months. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise, otherwise I might be on the hock for a lot of socks. And with fall/winter falling into that 17 month slot twice, that's a hell of a lot of smart wool.

     Living in a time warp for what has become an entire day is rather unsettling. I'm about 85% certain that due to travelling over the international date line, we skipped the 30th of July. Not that I'm particularly attached to the penultimate day of the 7th month, but the whole idea of missing an entire day seems entirely gluttonous. I suppose there are worse ways to spend a day, but sitting in a flying chair over the ocean isn't my first choice of day long activity. It's not quite a day wasted, but it's definitely not a day seized. I didn't carpe my diem, although I did watch Scarface, which could be interpreted as a bit of a cautionary tale in going a tad overboard in seizing one's day by the genitals and squeezing for you've got - I don't want some eerily calm dude with a sawed-off, climbing the downspout, jumping over the rail and walking up slowly (and epic movie villain dramatic fashion) behind me and capping my ass, resulting in a somewhat Christ-like dive off the balcony and into the in-house fountain. Maybe it's more of a "don't-buy-an-indoor-fountain" type cautionary tale - that sort of blatant bandying around of one's wealth is sure to piss off the commoners. Especially the coke-slinging commoners.

       But even though I'm no Tony Montoya and I'm not throwing cash out the emergency exit and making it rain (there was a severe storm, of the non-monetary sort, in Beijing, which is why we were forced to detour) on the fine people of Seoul, I do feel somewhat at least, like a white, entitled, fat, overfed, under-informed, ignorant Westerner. Travel IS expensive. It IS (by plane at least) ecologically irresponsible. And it can be done for some very wrong and self-serving reasons. I don't think that one needs necessarily to be going to another country with the explicit purpose of improving others' lives, in fact I'm pretty sure that's what the crusaders had in mind, but I strongly believe that self-improvement should be a primary focus. So I'm working on it. So far, I've learned patience. And to appreciate the charm of being served Mr. Noodles at 2 in the morning on a flight to Beijing, on which Andrea and I were 2 of I'm pretty sure 5 Caucasians. It's a good start.

Folk Fest Hangover

I've always taken it off on the way home/when I got home after the fest, but after seeing it on a couple wrists last week, I decided to experience a month long pseudo-fest. I'll at least get a great wristband tan.

I've never really been hit hard by the dreaded Winnipeg Folk Festival hangover, that is until this year. I guess I just had a really good time. It's tough to get rid of a hangover when you have no hair of the dog lying around to fix you up. If they COULD bottle that feeling and sell it like so many jars of homebrew tequila, the handmade village would never be the same. Well, it would probably be pretty much the same, but in lieu of another tent that sells djembes, we'd have somebody selling bootlegged folk fest juice. It would probably taste like sweat. And drugs. And Lucky Lager. Too bad Popcorn Sutton went and offed himself, he'd be a great candidate for head brewmaster.

I found my wrist band from Folk Fest the other day while cleaning out my car, and I've decided to wear it to Thailand, ostensibly to bring a little piece of Winnipeg with me, but also with the hope that someone will recognize it. I don't have high hopes for that second bit.

Leave House

She's trying to get away. She's neither particularly strong nor committed. Little does she know that we're leaving her with my parents for a month. Probably because she's just a stupid dog.

   I'm going to miss Winnipeg this August. After persevering through the winter and basically non-existent spring, summer was going to be particularly sweet to behold this year - a bunch of my closest friends were planning on going to Folk Fest, the summer promised to be filled with performance opportunities with the Riel Gentlemen's Choir, plenty of beercycles, beautiful weather, rolling thunder storms...¹I felt like I had really earned it this time, especially after having the additional strain of rehabbing my lower body after destroying (like a champ) my left tibia and fibula in November of 2011. 

   Thus far, it had lived up to my self-created hype. Folk Fest surpassed my expectations in terms of a high ratio of good-times-had vs. being-uncomfortable-tired-and-hot ("Best Fest" was a common strain heard around our campfire), the Riel Gentlemen rocked both the mainstage and the campground (no free kegs unfortunately), I'm about to go ride my bike to a party and drink some beers, the best electrical storm I've ever seen waltzed through my backyard about a month ago, and the weather has maintained a nearly perfect balance of being so hot that your nostrils feel as if they're filled with steam from a boiling pot of hot ham water, and cool and refreshing rains and breezes. I've also held the same route for ~2 months at work (which is unprecedented for me as a term letter carrier) and it being a business route, I've gotten to know a bunch of my "customers" a lot better than the average route,² and I've resultantly developed a sense of responsibility over when and how they get their mail. All of these factors have combined to make me actually rather apprehensive about leaving 'Peg City for a month.

People are into lists apparently, so let's pro/con this jazz -

CON - I won't be able to bike around very much in Thailand, which is unfortunate for two reasons: 1. Biking is a great time and 2. I'm trying to build up my quadricep strength, my legs are a little "wonky" after breaking my leg, and the idea of winter, with its enormous banks of nearly impenetrable snow and sheets of ice that pull the ground from beneath at will, coming without my having improved my physical fitness substantially strikes a fear deep within my heart.
PRO - Massage is dirt cheap in Thailand, and my IT band isn't going to know what hit it.

CON - I won't have my nail file at the ready all the time.
PRO - I won't lose my nail file in the couch every other day. Also, I won't be playing guitar, so having long, well-manicured finger nails won't be a priority. That said, I don't play my classical guitar nearly enough anymore, but I prefer to have the option open to me. Also, chewing your nails is highly frowned up in Thailand, and I don't want to get sick.

CON - I won't be playing guitar.
PRO - Again, the finger nails.

CON - Miss a bunch of people and fantastic times with them.

PRO - There will be many summers with lovely people to come in Winnipeg.

CON - I'll miss my dog, Penny.
PRO - I hear there are TONNES of stray dogs running around in Thailand, and I also hear that they like to party.

CON - I won't be in Winnipeg.
PRO - I'll be in Thailand, which is admittedly, pretty awesome.

¹I think there's a lot to love about Manitoba's summers, and that you don't need to look for very long before you find another thing to hold dear.

²I'm also a lot more congenial than the average mailman, so that probably exacerbates the "issue". Maybe I'm just feeling self-important. 

After Winter Must Come Spring, Which Lasts About 2 Weeks.

  I'm leaving Winnipeg for a month this Monday. After making it through a particularly brutal winter in which I spent many (too many probably) hours trudging through ankle-to-knee-to-waist-high snow, it feels kind of counterintuitive to be leaving Winnipeg during what most would consider the best time of the year. It's the first time I've spent that much time out of the Heartland of Canada since an ill-conceived stint in the oil patch in 2006, so I've been thinking quite a bit lately about what exactly it will be like to be away from the comforts of home, and the much beloved people that surround it. Perhaps more unsettling is the fact that I'm going to a country that is completely alien to me (Thailand), where I don't speak the language, I'm not overly familiar with the culture, and it's going to be so hot that it's going to make me want to walk around naked (which I hear is somewhat frowned upon in Thailand). So I've thought about how I want to interact with this tension that has started to put down roots rather deep in my head, so I decided that it would probably be therapeutic to write about it. So here I am, getting ready to take off the other side of the world to immerse myself in a land of hot sauce, smiles, overly apologetic people, opiate addicts and a corrupt government that puts people in  for drug offences while turning a blind eye towards the exploitation of vulnerable individuals. So at least it's nice to know I'll feel at least a little at home while I'm there.
  So in an effort to really engage and attempt to unpack my experiences while I'm halfway around the world, I'm going to try and write something every couple of days. Obviously some days it's just not going to work out, travel life will get in the way, internet access might be spotty, maybe nothing especially awesome or thought provoking happened,¹ but ideally I'll knock one out every two or so sunsets. To start us off, I'll get one out about what leaving Winnipeg for August is doing to me psychologically. It's considerably more affecting than I would have thought. Actually I didn't think about it at all until a couple weeks ago, and hit hard right around the afternoon of Sunday the 14th.


¹That last one is pretty unlikely, based on the fact that while typing though, I typed through instead, twice. And almost did it again. So that's pretty interesting. And I can wax somewhat endlessly on pedantic little issues, like why my brain believes that through is a better option than though. Or perhaps why my left index finger feels the need to hit the "r" key every time I type through though.
² Winnipeg Folk Festival concert series just emailed me to let me know that Dwight Yoakam is coming through town soon(ish). My parent listened to him a lot when I was younger, and he's somehow settled in rather comfortably into my "I'm pretty sure this is good" centres of my brain. It's a good time. I'm not sure what exactly living in the Pocket of a Clown would be like, but I'm pretty certain that it's a real sad place to hang around. Although any time you have opportunity to hang out in a giant pocket seems like a pretty good time to me.
³ I'll post pictures too.