company I keep

Sabai dee,

I’ve been a wee bit busy since my last post from Pai, anxious to churn out an update for the last few days. I have a 17 hour bus leaving at 1pm today to 4000 Islands, Laos, which should be a real hoot, so I rose early this morning hoping to light a fire neath my creative loins. I write to you, avid listeners, dear comrades, fellow characters in this life of mine, from Vang Vieng, Laos, a small town in the northern part of the country. A few words explaining how I arrived here and what I’ve been doing would be appropriate, but alas, such words will be not be found in this post (soon to come!).

For nearly a month I’ve been traveling with a cast of characters that has ballooned to 14 people at times. These peeps have been my family over the past four weeks and are thus worthy of more than passing mention. Here goes.

I met a charming bunch o’ British blokes in Bangkok, and these boys go by the names of Will, Nick, and Mert. Will is from Brighton in the UK, Nick is from Newcastle, and these fellas know each other from uni at Glasgow. They came to Thailand from Nepal where Nick had been for 3 months and Will just a few weeks. Nick is as genuine as they come, a kind soul and gentle lover. He stays positive at all times, never resorting to gossip or unpleasantness of any kind. His sense of humor, however, is, shall we say, dark.

Will is a natural leader, a doer, socially energetic and a magnet for new, interesting travelers. He knows his way around the block and does a hell of a dolphin impersonation. I must add though that he takes solace in the repeated violation of my personal space, body, mind, and soul at large. He lives, it seems, to haunt my dreams with crude whispers and wandering fingers. I implore all who encounter this man to be on high alert at all times. You have been warned.

Mert is a half Brit, half Turk from Manchester in the UK. He turns 26 in March and is the oldest member of the group. He is a deeply principled individual with a heart of gold and the voice of an angel with the flu. He enjoys singing Call Me Maybe to me with alarming frequency, and refers to nearly every sight in Asia as dead, dead majestic. He is always happy and upbeat unless he witnesses animal cruelty of any kind. His love of animals is surpassed only by his love of forcefully bear-hugging me in the mornings while I’m trying to sleep for just a few more minutes goddammit.

In Chiang Mai I met Max and Maurijn, a couple of feisty, acrobatically disposed Dutchmen with dance moves for which worded descriptions would be an insult. Max is a jungle cat who refuses to conform to traveler norms by, for example, attempting deeply disrespectful impersonations of Chinese people in their presence, or leaping beyond signs that say “Danger: do not cross or you will die!” He is, of course, a great guy, ready for anything, the silliest goose of them all, and a truly loyal ally from dawn till dusk.

Maurijn is only 19, but I assure you this is no normal 19 year old. Not only is he more mature than I was at 19, he is probably more mature than I am now at the ripe age of 25. Mau enjoys backflips off of waterfalls, dancing like he’s at a rave to all musical genres, and pretending he knows how to speak french. He is known to readily identify and initiate conversation with the prettiest girl in the room, until I inevitably swoop in and establish myself as a more attractive, knowledgable, muscular alternative (#maturity). If it’s any consolation I always feel bad about it afterward.

Together, the six of us rented 125cc motorbikes and for 48 glorious hours we were Chiang Mai’s most feared syndicate, a rebel entourage of Spicy Boys weaving to and fro through rush hour traffic, power-sliding through sharp turns as if playing real life Mario Kart. In short – we rode. Until, that is, one of us who will not be named for privacy’s sake was hit by a truck (it wasn’t me). Anyways, it has been with this cohort of five noble warriors that I have thus far weathered this Asian storm. They are damn good men, and might I add dead, dead majestic.

(Aside: a more detailed synopsis of Chiang Mai is on its way, for this was a wondrous place worthy of a proper description.)

Alongside us through thick and thin are two charming British damsels named Amy and Elisabeth. Phil from the UK has been with us for several stops along the way as has Sarah from Leeds. Joining us at the Thai-Laos border were Jorien, a Dutch girl we met in Bangkok, Max from Kingston, and Jill and Alex, cousins from the big country north of the US which shall remain nameless.

How long I continue traveling with this group I cannot say. But what I can say without hesitation is that they have filled my journey thus far with warmth, laughter, and stories to tell forever. I love all of you fools. Even you, Liz.