read part 1: Travel Writing - Bangkok
read: Travel Writing, part 2 - Cambodia
read: Travel Writing, part 3 - Vietnam
read: Travel Writing, part 4 - more Vietnam

Travel Writing, part 5 - Asia Aftermath
I've been home from Asia for almost a week. It's been a rough week.

I took 7 rolls of pictures, and after getting all of my pictures developed, I realized I didn't take enough pictures of the things I really wanted to remember. People, places, countryside, life. I got all the touristy stuff. But that was only part of the trip. I guess I'll have to go back and take more pics someday.

As is typical with me anytime I travel out of the country for a good length of time, I have a really hard time readjusting back to life at home. I think the biggest problem is that I just don't want to be home. I like the travel too much.

This past week has been hard getting my internal clock back on track. I've woken up every night except last night, in the middle of the night, completely unsure of where I am. And not for just a minute or so. I've had to sit up in bed and wake myself up completely, to reassure myself that I'm in my bed, in my home, back to reality. It's been a little freaky. I've also had trouble sleeping alone. I've slept with Friends A and C for two weeks. While it's been nice to be alone again, it's also been difficult.

I tend to keep to myself, for the most part. I value my alone time. I actually have difficulty mingling and being with people, if it involves something other than being entertaining for a group. But, when I travel with friends, I get used to having them around. I like it. And suddenly when they are gone again and I have to get back to my reality, I'm usually lost for awhile. We eat together, sleep in the same room, spend almost 24 hours a day for many days together. When I'm suddenly left to fend for myself for meals and a schedule, it's hard for me to readjust. Turns out I like people after all.

But I think the hardest part of returning from a trip is getting my head back to my world, my life, my routine, my reality. I usually come back and appreciate what I have more than before I left. But I also come back not wanting it. As "Rainman" as I am when I get bogged down in my life, I much prefer the non-routine of travel. And I usually dread getting back into my routine once I am home again.

It's not that I hate my life, or even dislike it. But when I travel, I come home wondering if I'm really happy here. Why is this my life? I'm way too busy, I'm usually stressed, I have to adhere to a schedule, I mix in a few fun things, and I never have enough time to just appreciate life. Is this the way it's supposed to be?

I usually suffer for awhile with my head and heart still wherever I just returned home from. And this recent trip to Asia is no different. I've been reading about it since I've been home. And truthfully, I've been pretty obsessed with the poverty of it. Not that I was shocked by any of it. I expected it. Not that it was a major theme of the trip, being emersed in poor conditions. We were quite comfortable and removed from the scene of poverty for most of the trip. Yet, I can't stop thinking about it.

I want to go back and spend time not as a tourist, but getting to know the poverty. The histroy. The countries. The situations. Why is it that depending on where you live in the world, you are dealt either the hand of affluence, or the hand of destitution. I have stuff because I live here. Yet, had I lived in Cambodia still being born the same year I was born here, I would have been smack in the middle of poverty, persecution, and tyranny brought on by the Khmer Rouge. My life would be very different, if I even survived to have a life, due only to geography.

I come home and I question my world. I question what I do. I question who I am. Sure, I have a nice job, a nice house, a nice car, a nice world. Did I do anything in particular to deserve it? No. Does it have meaning? Not sure. Good question.

It's not even that I get fired up to save the world. I just don't understand the world. And I think that's all I really want out of life. To understand the things I don't understand. Why can't it all make sense?

Last night I watched Beyond Borders. Partly to appease my Angelina obsession (which pales in comparison to Friend A's Angelina obsession), but partly because it's a story that visits several areas of the world in poverty and tells a story of people trying to do something about it. I have as much of an obsession with that as I do with Angelina. I just never know how to put it into practice. Nor, how to find and hang out with Angelina without that whole stalker thing....

Being home this week, I really have questioned if this is my home. I stay here, I've purchased property, I've laid down roots as though this is where I belong. But is it? Maybe it's just the last place I ended up, and I haven't found the reason to leave, yet. So I stay. And I go to work. And I have something called a life, because that's what we do.

I seem to feel better in general when I'm far away, experiencing new things, out of my element. Even as much as the sights and sounds of traveling and seeing what there is to see, I almost prefer the reality. The parts of my trip that stand out the most is the poverty. Even more so than Angkor. I work so hard in my life to make my element comfortable, to build a world around me that is safe and familiar. Yet, when I leave it, I feel free. Is this where I'm supposed to be? Is there something else I should be doing?

We have too much stuff. I see these people living in dilapidated houses, maybe one room. I'm sitting here typing this in my "office", which is one of three bedrooms of my house that I live in alone. I'm not angry that I have this. I don't feel bad about it. I work hard for it. But why do I have it? Why can't we all have it? Surely I can be of better use than I am on any given day. Going to work at my job that is ok, but not anything I love. Coming home and worrying about this job, my life, my friends, who I am, where I fit in, what I do, what really matters, and what is the meaning of these things I do that compile my life. Why is that a life worth keeping?

We make our worlds so complicated. Yet, I just left a world that is far less complicated. Sure, it's poor in many places. Sure, it's difficult. I'm not saying it's better. But, it's simple. I make my world too complicated. It doesn't have to be this way.

Needless to say, my heart isn't in my world right now. I think it hasn't been for awhile. And when I travel I am shown even more that it's not. I think the term is "going through the motions." But, do I have the courage to make a change? Leave what is comfortable for longer than just two weeks? Can I go to where there isn't comfort?

If I love to travel so much, if I love to be away so much, is this really where I belong?

Don't get me wrong, it's great to come home and be back in the familiar. I appreciate everything I have. I've missed people in my life and that I love, and it's great to be around them again. But when the homecoming wears off, I will find myself sucked into the headaches I had before I left two weeks ago. Why do we create worlds with so many headaches?

I love what I have and who I'm with. This world is good. But for someone who has made every effort to be settled, who longs for consistency and stability, even when I make that for myself, I don't feel stable or settled. I'm restless. And uncertain. I've created rock-solid structure, painstakingly so. Yet, I think it only makes me feel trapped. It feels so good to get on a plane and leave it.

Maybe I just haven't seen enough of the world, yet. I intend to see it all. Maybe once I've seen everything I think I need to see, this world will finally feel stable to me. I'll feel home.

Wanderlust? Maybe. That would be the simple answer. But I don't think that's the motivation for what I feel.

One thing I do like about my job is that I work with several nonprofits that are involved in saving the world in many of these places in turmoil that we hear about from the comfort of our homes. Sudan, for one. My job gives me worldwide exposure to places that I hope to travel to someday. Not because they are glamorous, or touristy, but because they are in need. Why is that intriguing to me?

At my job I read about the world everyday, persecution, opression, people dying. I see horrible photographs of things we don't get to see on the news, because it's not appropriate. It's censored. I read about places that are not safe. Yet, it feeds my desire to be in those places. I'm constantly looking at a map, trying to put a geographic reference to a country I am researching for a project. I don't know if that's a good thing, having access to so much information. It's like dangling a carrot in front of me everyday. Places I work with and can read about, but can't go to because I have a job. The reality of my job, even though I may read about Sudan all day, is that I'm just the girl stuck in the office job. When I'd rather be in the field making the research, rather than stuck in the air-conditioned cube reading about it.

It's not even that I think I can make a difference. I just want to know why, and maybe tell people who can make a difference. I want to see it for myself.

Explain this to me.

It helps to write about it. I love to write, and these past two days of writing about my trip have been tremendous therapy for me. If I could get paid for this, I would be in heaven.

You are a trooper if you've read all of the Travel Writing blogs and ramblings. I give you props.

Til my next adventure...

C.T.

P.S. Thanks to Blogger for inventing Blogger Images while I was away. You made these posts MUCH easier to add photos and make them super cool.

read part 1: Travel Writing - Bangkok
read: Travel Writing, part 2 - Cambodia
read: Travel Writing, part 3 - Vietnam

Travel Writing, part 4 - more Vietnam
It was Sunday, and my last day of the trip. I had the entire day to spend in Ho Chi Minh, and then I would leave Friends A and C to come home, while they continued on for another few days, headed to a beach elsewhere in Vietnam.

The plan for the day was to not get up early (for once), then see a pagoda, the Reunification Palace, and the War Remnants Museum.

Our first mistake was putting me in charge of the map. I usually have an impeccable sense of direction, but I was completely turned around in Ho Chi Minh. I led us completely in the wrong direction for a good 15 minutes before I figured out that I had us heading opposite of where we wanted to be. I got frustrated, but turned us around and marched off in the right direction.

By the time we got to the Reunification Palace, it was time for it to close for lunch. But we found out we could buy tickets and tour the grounds for an hour before they cleared the place for lunch.



We wandered the grounds and read some signs to explain what we were looking at. The signs don't explain much, which I think is their way of "encouraging" you to pay for a tour guide to explain things to you. This was the place where tanks arrived to unify North and South Vietnam, and they say the building is left exactly as it was the day it was no longer occupied. You can wander through the various rooms, but most of it is roped off. It's mostly furniture from the 60s. But significant, palace-y furniture, I guess.

My favorite part was the cow I spotted on the palace grounds. True, we saw no shortage of cows on the roads and throughout the cities of Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. But I thought it was funny to see this random cow on the manicured lawns of the palace. Seemed out of place.
















After wandering through the museum separately, Friends C, A, and I “reunified” (seemed appropriate at the Reunification Palace), then regrouped and decided that our next stop would be the War Remnants Museum. It was just around the corner, although by Way of the Tyrant, that could mean another good hour walk in the wrong direction anyway.

The museum was closed for lunch when we got there, so we stopped in a café down the street to have lunch and wait for the museum to open again. This is where we met our new best friend- the owner of the café.

We were the only people in there to eat for lunch, and the owner became very excited when she learned we were Americans. This was strange to me, given history with Vietnamese and Americans. But in general, everyone in Vietnam had been really nice and helpful to us.

We ordered our food and watched Chinese television. But our new best friend wanted to hang out with us. She asked us if we wanted to play a game while we waited on our food. We said, sure. She brought out Jenga. And we proceeded to play a rousing game of Jenga with the café owner.

Our food came, so she let us eat. Then we still had time to kill before the museum opened. Our new best friend started to tell us her life story, which ran somewhat like a Vietnamese soap opera, and went on way too long. We ordered desserts.

Then, I fell in love with our new best friend. Because, she looked at the three of us and then remarked that I had to be the YOUNGEST of the three of us, because I looked very young. HA! That bee honey stuff from the day before must be working…. I am older than both A and C by at least a couple of years.

We paid our bill and got up to leave. At this point our new best friend hugged us on the way out, and sent us on our way to the museum. She had mentioned that it was good we had eaten before we went to the museum, because it is a lot to stomach.

She was right.

The War Remnants Museum used to be known as the Museum of American War Crimes. The Vietnamese changed the name to offer more sensitivity to Americans coming to view the museum. However, they did not changed anything else about the museum. It’s a series of photos and exhibits detailing how horrible American G.I.s were during the war in Vietnam. The photos are horrendous and graphic, and all the captions begin something like, “American G.I.s tortured….” or “American G.I.s did something else horrible to these innocent villagers….” And so forth.

The courtyard is strewn with leftover planes and helicopters and bombs used by U.S. troops during the war. At least that part is interesting. The rest of it is a completely biased representation of how America wronged Vietnam during the war. It’s worth seeing. But be prepared to want to tour the museum without speaking, so that no one knows that you are an American.

We left there to head to a pagoda, one that was touted in our guidebook as “the” pagoda to see. We got there and didn’t understand the big deal. We walked inside and felt like we were disturbing the people inside who were worshipping their Buddhas. We wandered around for a few minutes, but never saw where this was a tourist attraction or something we needed to see, so we left.

My next goal was to shop. We planned to shop on our way back to the hotel. But, we were quite far away, and my map skills were questionable. So we opted for a cab to take us back to the hotel. Friend A then went back to the room, and Friend C and I shopped until we dropped.

We headed back to the hotel. I needed to start packing, and then it would be time for my last supper before heading to the airport. We found Friend A suffering from a migraine. So, I packed in the dark, showered, got her set up with supplies to weather a migraine, then Friend C and I headed out for my last supper. It didn’t seem right to go through the ritual last supper of a trip without all three of us, but eh, what’re you going to do?

We ate, shopped some more, then went back to the hotel to get my stuff and make sure Friend A wasn’t dying. She wasn’t. But I hated to leave while she was sick. Really, we were quite a trio for this trip. I had been sick and unable to breathe for about half of the trip. Friend C hadn’t felt well, and was dealing with blistered and damaged feet. Then Friend A topped it off with migraine madness. It’s a wonder we survived at all.

I said my farewells with a very, very, very heavy heart. I hate the end of a trip, and after spending two weeks straight with one or both of my friends, I immediately felt empty without them as I rode in the taxi alone to the airport. I checked in, shopped more in the airport (for the LOVE, why can't I quit shopping???), made it on my plane, and left Asia behind.

continued in Travel Writing, part 5 – Asia Aftermath

C.T.

read part 1: Travel Writing - Bangkok
read: Travel Writing, part 2 - Cambodia

Travel Writing, part 3 - Vietnam
Crossing into Vietnam was another exercise in heartache. Again, the poverty along the bus route was unbelievable. Here we were being carted through the countryside in a "limousine" bus (meaning it had a bathroom and a/c), while outside our windows people and children were doing whatever they could to survive.

Before making it into Vietnam, the bus had to cross a river on a ferry boat. We had to wait for our turn to drive onto the ferry. As we sat on the bus, children selling anything you could imagine, from food to sunglasses, pounded the windows of the bus, trying to get our attention. My first reaction was to be annoyed. At this point in the trip, I was getting tired of these kids and people wanting me to buy their stuff every time I stopped. But then you have to stop and think about what is really happening. I'm on a nice, air-conditioned bus. They are trying to make enough money to make it through another day. Loose change for me. A day of food for them.

The bus made it onto the ferry, and several kids followed. They started climbing all over the ferry to get to eye-level height with the bus windows. They continued pounding on the windows, pointing to our food and bottles of water. One guy sitting across from us opened the window and handed his water and cookies to a kid. Then all the kids went nuts. Once you give one of them something, then they know the bus is full of people with stuff to give. It's hard to ignore. They even wanted our empty water bottles. One girl, as we left the Vietnam border building, was collecting the empty bottles with a huge smile across her face. A man sitting behind us had opened his window and was throwing out all of our bottles to her. I guess she can sell them.

The kids were hard to watch. I saw several very small kids running alongside the bus, they were missing arms, had damaged legs. One kid was missing both arms. It's likely a result of landmines, which are very much still a problem. We heard warnings and saw signs throughout Cambodia especially, warning not to wander off of the paths due to the threat of undetonated landmines still very much a reality.

We finished our bus trip to Ho Chi Minh, and this time we were greeted with a much nicer city than our arrival into Phnom Penh. And, our bus deposited us just a few steps from our hotel. A fairly nice hotel, which turned out to be in the middle of a great area full of shopping, restaurants, and more bus tours. It was great. And very welcome after our last several days and nights in less-than-stellar conditions throughout Cambodia.

We checked into our hotel, this time landing a room with THREE beds. This was all very exciting for us. Finally, the first time since all three of us were together on the trip, we would each get our own bed. AND, the bathroom had a separate shower, with shower curtain. No more all-in-one bathroom extravaganza. Plus, we found free toothbrushes in the bathroom. It's like they knew at this point in our journey that our toothbrushes were of a serious funk. I was in love with this hotel.

We ate lunch downstairs and then headed out to wander the streets and shop. I was feeling super sick, congested, and not able to breathe, but with only another two days left to my trip, I didn't want to waste time laying in bed.

There was some confusion about the Vietnam money situation. Everything is payable in U.S. dollars, but the cash I was able to get out of the hotel ATM (finally an ATM - there are no ATMs in Cambodia. Be sure to arrive there with plenty of cash.) was in dong, the currency of Vietnam. Not as worthless as Cambodian riel, but the U.S. dollar is still generally preferred in Vietnam. However, the conversion of dong to dollar was something like 15,000 dong to a dollar, and before long all the zeroes in the prices became ridiculously confusing. We eventually worked it out. But I was reminded that math really isn't my thing. Vietnam should lose some of the zeroes and make life easier for everyone.

We wandered the streets. Friends A and C got their hair washed and dried at a hair salon. I opted out, due to my head being full of snot, and the beginnings of feeling some stomach issues. I just didn't want to be touched.

Dinner was had at a place where we thought we could watch some CNN, but they kept the T.V.s tuned to skateboarding or some other ridiculous sport. So much for catching up on world news. But I did enjoy my Vietnamese bowl of pho, which I ate entirely with chopsticks. A skill I was developing the hard way, but making do, nonetheless.

We fell asleep in our cozy room while watching HBO, the place where movies go to die. The next morning we were up early to catch our bus for a Mekong River Delta tour, one day trip. During the bus ride to where we would then catch a boat for the tour, my face decided to swell up. I don't know why. I'm not sure if it's something I ate, or if I was bitten by something. I never found a bite mark. But it was slightly alarming. The bus made a pit stop, and I bought a cold bottle of water to "ice" my face. I never felt weird or sick (sicker than I already felt), but by lunchtime the swelling had mostly gone away. I'm still trying to figure out what mysterious Vietnamese face-swelling disease I caught.

The bus deposited us at a speedboat that we would take to catch a larger boat. Later we would switch to a smaller boat again. The Mekong River was impressive in that it looks just like everything you see in movies about Vietnam. Boats of all sizes that look like they are several decades old. It's a wonder any of them still float. It's a busy river in some places, and in other places further away from the city, it's serene.

Our first stop on the tour was Unicorn Island. Our guide insisted that we would see thousands of unicorns on the island. We did not. This is where the tour got a bit "touristy", but I enjoyed it. Our group of about 15 or so was ushered over to some tables where we then sampled a variety of Asian fruits. Some of the fruits I'd already sampled in Bangkok with Friend C. But all of it was very tasty, especially the pineapple. We watched a group of kids and women sing and dance traditional song and dance. It was all quite lovely.

Our guide told us that whenever we needed to use the toilet we had to say that we "wanted to sing a song". At first I think we all thought that we would actually have to sing a song for the privilege of using the toilet. But eventually we understood that wanting to "sing a song" was just a "fun" way of saying you needed to use the toilet. I sang several songs throughout the day.

From the fruit sampling we moved deeper into the island for a short trip on row boats. These were your typical "vietnamese"-looking boats. They seated four of us at a time, and we were paddled through dense jungle down a narrow strip of winding waterway. We were told to wear the traditional Vietnamese hats as we road in the boats. The hats were provided on the boat. It was all very staged, but I loved it. Our guide loaded us into each boat and sent us on our way into the jungle with the sentiment, "See you next week!" Friend A did not find this funny.


Rowboat through the jungle of Vietnam.















Friend A and I, sporting our official Vietnamese boating hats. Lips still slightly swollen from freak face-swelling incident, but Friend C assured me that I was still beautiful with my "Angelina Jolie"-like lips.

The boats took us back to the larger boat, where we climbed from small boat to large boating, praying that we did not fall from small boat into muddy river. Large boat then took us to another small boat, which took us to our next island destination.


Touristy photo op at the front of the small boat. Worth every penny....

The next island stop involved more testing of things. Here we tasted coconut candy as we watched how it was made. Then our guide served a sample of banana whisky. This was a questionable move on my part to drink it. I watched as she scooped the whiskey out of a cloudy brown "vat" of liquid with some interesting, um, "goo" of sorts swimming around in the bottom of the vat. Friend A opted out. But Friend C and I chugged the whiskey shot. It wasn't bad. Burned a bit on the way down, and I probably wouldn't recommend it. But, it was okay.

Next, you could pose with a gigantic snake for a picture. This, I did not do. But two crazy Canadian girls in the group did.

We then had tea with special bee honey, which we were told would make us young forever. I will demand my money back from the tour if this, in fact, does not turn out to be true. Then our guide opened the other bottle on the table, which was bee wine. I did not catch if the wine was made from the honey, or from actual bees. But I tasted it, chugging the shot as I did the banana whiskey. It was good. Sweet, mixed with a bit of honey. The guide promised the wine would make us forget everything. Since I forget most things anyway, I will not be able to tell if the wine works or not.

Next we could pose for a picture while holding a honeycomb full of bees. I opted out of this one, as well, since I'm allergic to bee stings. And one face-swelling a day is enough for me, thank you very much.

The men were then encouraged to sample the snake whiskey, which does, in fact, come out of a bottle containing a very scary snake that has been crammed into the bottle. Snake whiskey, we were told, is only for men. I was quite fine with that.

We left this island and headed to yet another island for lunch. We had lunch of pork, rice, and soup, all included in the price of our day tour. But of course, we had to pay extra for our drinks, a Coca-Cola for me. We sat at a table with a man and woman from Sweden, and a young couple from Australia. They were great, and lunch was good. I love conversations with people who are not from my world. America, as it turns out, is not the center of the universe. It's great to talk to people who have never been there. Hard to believe that there are people who have not been to the U.S., but there are.

After lunch, the options were to enjoy a nap in a hammock. Or, to take a mountain bike ride through the coconut groves.


Friend A opted for the hammock.














Friend C, the female Swede, the two Aussies, and I opted for the bike ride through the coconut grove. How could we not?

We grabbed some bikes, sort of listened to directions on where to go to follow the path, and we were on our way. It was a beautiful ride through scenic coconut trees. We saw huts and creeks and locals going about their daily business. We were passed by motorikes and crossed narrow bridges, winding deeper into the jungle.

Many of the houses had cemetaries on the same property. We were told that the people bury their loved ones on the propery, rather than in a collective cemetary, because it is believed that the ancestors continue to watch over the property, even after death. It was interesting, and beautiful. But a little creepy.

We were told not to turn right or left, but to stay straight on the path. Eventually we had to turn right or left, and soon we decided we might be getting lost. So we turned around and headed back. But it was fun. It was a fun group. We made it back to gthe roup and our guide just as it was time to leave.

At this point, our little group of one-day tour people were split from the rest of the group that was heading on for a two or three day trip. The Swedes, the Aussies, and the three of us were back into a speed boat for a two hour trip back to Ho Chi Minh City. I watched the river scene and took pictures along the way. It was a really nice day for a boat ride.
















We landed at the city harbor, attempted to walk back to our hotel with help from the Swedes, and eventually gave up and took a taxi. Dinner was had at another local restaurant. Even while sitting in a restaurant, street vendors still approach you to buy books, and even food.

We watched more bad movies on HBO to fall asleep.

Then, it was Sunday. My last day in Vietnam. Better make it a good one.

continued in Travel Writing, part 4 - more Vietnam

C.T.

read part 1: Travel Writing - Bangkok

Travel Writing, part 2 – Cambodia
Had I known what the next day of travel was to be like ahead of time, I would likely have been less excited about going to Cambodia. But, not knowing made it more adventure-like. And even though I may be afraid of everything at home, when I travel I like the adventure. I like to think I have dual personalities. Home Tyrant vs. Travel Tyrant.

We woke early and left to find the bus station. That took some time. We had to catch the Skytrain to where we thought buses might be. Then a nice lady informed us we had to take a city bus from there to get to the actual bus station. It was too far to walk. And, after a few minutes on the bus, we realized she was right.

We finally made it to the bus station, picked our way through the market to get to the actual station hidden behind the market (picture rows and rows of shops and people selling things). In the market, Friend A finally got her coffee in a bag, which she had been searching for ever since she landed in Bangkok the day before, but it actually was iced coffee in a cup, but seemed to appease her for the time being.

We found the station, purchased our tickets, then ran outside just in time to catch our bus, which happened to be pulling away from the station. We just happened to run into a lady who was the ticket person for our bus, and she grabbed us and basically threw us on our bus, luggage and all. The next 4-5 hours were spent on this bus, stopping occasionally to pick up people and drop off people. No bathroom. We did make a stop or two. Bathroom conditions at these stops were less than desirable. God bless little bottles of hand sanitizer.

Our bus finally deposited us at a town near the Thailand / Cambodia border. From there we had to take a tuk-tuk (motorcycle with a cart on the back) to the actual border. We crammed all three of us, plus luggage, into this tiny thing and rode for about 20 minutes. We were then dumped at the border crossing.

Here is where life became a whole lot different than easy travel in Thailand. We were immediately swarmed by children and people wanting us to buy things. You just have to hold tightly to your stuff and start walking towards the border crossing offices, saying "no" and eventually ignoring them. We made it to the first office, non-air-conditioned, and we waited in line to leave the country of Thailand. Once we made it through that line, we walked to the next office to arrive in Cambodia. We filled out paperwork, handed over 1000 Thai baht (about $20 U.S.) dollars, and waited for our visas.

We came to find out soon enough that Cambodian money (riel) is fairly worthless, even in Cambodia. They prefer the U.S. dollar, and also accept Thai baht. But it seemed like no matter what you pay with, you will get Cambodian riel back in change. It's like they know they're own money is worthless, and they prefer you take it with you rather than leave it with them in their own country. I tried on several occasions to get rid of my remaining riel by purchasing drinks or snacks, and somehow every time I ended up with more riel than I started with.

While at the visa waiting place, I decided to visit the bathroom. Many bathrooms require you to pay to either use the facility, or to have the privilege of toilet paper. For the most part, we carried our own toilet paper, but still often had to pay to pee. This bathroom, I wasn’t sure what to do. A guy was sitting there, like a bathroom monitor, but he pointed me straight in to the bathroom. Usually, you pay first. I “facilitied”, careful not to touch anything, then made my way out. He started hollering at me to give him money, pointing to a bowl of change. I threw in 2 baht (the going rate for bathrooms in Bangkok). He kept pointing and hollering. I gave him another baht and motioned that that was all I had on me, and then walked out.

A few minutes later I sent Friend A in with 3 baht, and she came right back out saying the guy wouldn’t let her in without more money. That’s why you pee first, I guess. Negotiate later.

We got our visas and proceeded to the next office. We filled out more paperwork, they looked at our passports, and finally decided we were worthy to enter Cambodia. This town was called Poipet, and is strictly a town built around border crossing life. It was horrendous. Ugly. Dirty. Poor. Dusty. Muddy. Busy. Loud. It had rained and the streets were all a muddy red.

Friend C had been this way before, and she was already negotiating with a local for taxi transportation to Siem Reap, our first stop in Cambodia. A guy agreed to 1000 baht for the ride, and 1200 baht if it rains during the ride, since we would then have to take a detour from the main road. Fortunately it had not rained too much the day before, or the roads might have been impassable, forcing us to spend an unwanted night in this border town. We hopped in a tuk-tuk to get to the taxi (he excitedly told us this was included in the price of 1000 baht), and we arrived at our taxi. Or Toyota Camry, as we saw all taxis were Camrys.

The driver weaved his way through town, making several stops. I have no idea what that was all about, but I’m suspicious he wanted to show his friends that he was driving three white girls to Siem Reap.

The next 4-5 hours were pretty close to what I imagine hell to be like. We set off on the main Highway 6, which is nothing more than a dirt road (some parts “paved”, but strangely the non-paved parts were less bumpy), filled with giant potholes. It was the bumpiest ride I have ever experienced, and I have no idea how a Camry makes this kind of trip more than once. I wouldn’t even take the Jeep down this road. Potholes were so large, the Camry could fall in and never get out.

We weaved back and forth across the road to avoid the largest of the potholes, dodging trucks and motorbikes and cows along the way. We would pass pick-up trucks filled with people, which I learned later you could purchase a seat on one of these trucks (paying more for sitting inside the cab), and you would then hold on for dear life until you reached your destination. Probably a dollar or so would be the going rate for hanging onto the back bumper.

The countryside started out abysmal. I watched out the window as we passed countless shacks and dilapidated dwellings, people in clothes that were barely hanging together. The poverty was just unbelievable. I can’t fathom how people survive like that. It was like going back in time. I saw a girl washing dishes in a brown pool of water that I would never go near, downstream from a man bathing in the same muddy water. I saw kids playing in mud. It is so far removed from anything I know here in the States. As I sat in the car listening to my nonpod mp3 player, I kept thinking, “These people have probably never seen a movie.” I watched 4 on my plane ride over.

But as we got further away from the border, the scene became more pleasant. Still poor and sad, but more green and picturesque, like the stuff you would see in a movie.

We stopped at a “gas station”, which was basically a roadside shack selling gasoline in 2-liter Coke and Fanta bottles. I watched as the girl at the “station” poured several bottles of gas into the car. Then we were on our way again.

We crossed bridges in the Camry that I would be afraid to walk across. Rickety, boards, some covered in mud. We slid across the roads in the mud, honking at people walking and biking. We made one stop for a bathroom break. Friend A took advantage, but Friend C and stayed in the car, watching a swarm of children overtake another group of people in a van who had made the same stop. I wasn’t ready to brave the mobs of kids, yet. But now looking back, I wish I’d gotten out of the car and talked to them, and taken some pictures.

We finally made it to Siem Reap just after dark. Even though it had only rained a few sprinkles and hadn’t affected our trip, the taxi driver demanded the full 1200 baht. Whatever, dude. We paid him too much, but he had gotten us there safely. Granted, it was the most frightening car ride I've ever experienced. But, at least I wasn't hanging off the back of a pick-up truck.

We checked in to our guesthouse (Earthwalkers - highly recommend) and were glad to see clean rooms, two beds (we had to get cozy for a few nights of our trip due to less beds than people), and a/c in the room. The bathroom, however, was not exactly 5-star. But it was clean. And our own. It just happened to be a combo toilet/shower/sink, all-in-one. Next to the toilet was the shower head, making for a very wet bathroom experience for the next two nights. But, at least we weren’t sharing it with other guests, and it was clean.

The guesthouse people were SO nice and helpful. A few other travelers were staying there. The girl in charge for the night was so sweet to us. We had dinner in the restaurant, but we actually ordered our food from outside the restaurant. We wanted pizza, and she brought us a menu from Happy Herb’s, and she made the order for us. In case you are wondering what is so “happy” about it, throughout the land you can order many things “happy”, meaning they will add some marijuana to the toppings of your pizza or whatever. We did not order anything “happy”, but nevertheless, the pizza made us very happy after our long journey. About 10-ish hours by bus, tuk-tuk, and bumpy car.

The next morning we got up not too early. The guesthouse had scheduled a tuk-tuk driver for us for the day, and he would take us first into town, and then to Angkor to tour the temples. I was SUPER excited about the temples.

Unfortunately, I had woken up with a serious sore throat, cough, runny nose, and inability to breathe. I had thrown my inhaler in my bags last minute, even though I never used it at home. But from Siem Reap to the end of the entire trip, I was useless without it. I think it was all the dust. Or perhaps I have caught some strange Asian disease (I would not be surprised, despite all of our precautions to be clean and steer clear of disease hazards). But, I spent some time in town buying throat lozenges while the girls checked email. We also booked our bus tickets out of town for the next morning. Unfortunately we could not get on the limousine bus (with bathroom), but the very nice bus ticket people put us on the next best express bus to Phnom Penh, for a mere $4 each. The best thing about this land? Everything is ridiculously cheap.

After email, our tuk-tuk driver (I never did catch his name), drove us to Angkor. On the way we passed some really fancy hotels. And we also passed a school or two. And, a children’s hospital. It was sad. A big sign outside announced a severe outbreak of dengue fever, and pleaded for people to donate blood. Kids were outside everywhere. I don’t know if they were all sick, but the scene was sad. This particular hospital was run by a man who does benefit concerts every Saturday night at the hospital. I read a brochure about it, and meant to take one with me. He founded the hospital and had dedicated his life to caring for the kids there. Great story. Sad situation.

We made it to the temples ($20 for one-day pass), and were immediately back in ancient times. It was unbelievable. Our first stop was Angkor Wat, the first temple and probably the most well-known. Although most people when I tell them that I visited Angkor Wat in Cambodia have no idea what I’m talking about. Look it up. It’s amazing.



We were bombarded again by children selling things, and this was the routine for every temple we stopped to see. Markets set up outside each temple, and people selling anything and everything. The kids were really aggressive. We eventually bought some bottled water, a book, and a few other things from kids and vendors throughout the day. We bargained some, but after awhile I just didn’t care. They don’t have anything, and $5 to them is a lot, while it is nothing to me. I felt bad for being so cheap earlier in the day with the swarm of kids who were competing with each other to sell us water.

We made our way through several temples in the morning. I was in heaven. I climbed all over everything I could. My favorite temple was Ta Prohm, the temple where Tomb Raider was filmed. I took 3 rolls of pictures of all the temples (yes, I still use film – nothing digital). The photos don’t begin to do the place justice, but I’m pleased with how they turned out. It made all the rough travel of the day before totally worth it.

You'll see this guy to the right (he's a temple sweep) on the cover of the Lonely Planet Cambodia travel guide. However, I took the picture here on the blog.















We had lunch in the restaurant near the first temple, and sat out a rainy spell. Then hit more temples until sunset. We climbed a hill where it is supposed to be “the place” to see the sunset, but it was too cloudy to see much. After some difficulty getting an elephant person to take her, Friend A rode an elephant down the hill.



Here, Friend A shows her frustration at being denied yet another elephant ride.



Here, Friend A is much happier finally allowed her journey via elephant.











But Friend C and I chose to walk back down the steep path. For free.




Tuk-tuk took us back in to town for dinner. He was great. He would drop us off at one place, and be back to get us exactly when we told him we would be ready. Our first stop in town was The Ankgor What?, just because we thought it was funny.
















Then we had dinner at the Dead Fish Restaurant. It was cool. It had multi-levels, very Swiss Family Robinson. They brought our food up on a platform via pulley. There was traditional Khmer dancing. And, of course, a pit full of live alligators on your way to the bathroom.

Our tuk-tuk driver returned us to our guesthouse. He had been with us literally all day, and only wanted $15 for the day. We gave him $20. He absolutely deserved it. He made our day easy.



Friend C, in tuk-tuk, with our faithful driver.











I didn’t sleep well that night, due to being sick. But we were up early to depart for Phnom Penh anyway. A minibus picked us up from the guesthouse. The guy on duty that morning had prepared our breakfasts for us “take-away”, so we could have the food on the bus. The minibus took us to the big bus, and we were on our way.

This time the road was better. But unfortunately this bus came with karaoke, and loud movies in Thai. The whole time. Made for another less-than-appealing travel day.

The ride to Phnom Penh was about 6 hours. We stopped a few times. At one stop we noticed a girl playing with a tarantula. Like it was no big deal. I meant to take her picture, but never did. I couldn't stop watching her long enough to grab my camera. I also saw a woman walk by with a plate of dark crunchy looking things to sell. I later read that we were in a region where they eat tarantulas. For food. As a tasty treat. The plate was likely a plate of fried tarantulas. During the reign of the Khmer Rouge, people had no food, so they were forced to eat anything they could find. They discovered these giant tarantulas, and they still eat them today. So. Gross.

We eventually arrived in Phnom Penh. Upon entering the city, traffic didn’t move. The bus dropped us off at what I assume was the bus station area, but it seemed like they just gave up on trying to get anywhere and dumped everyone in the street. It was busy and ugly, and we were immediately swarmed by people offering us a ride to wherever we needed to go. We eventually let a tuk-tuk driver take us to our guesthouse, Walkabout. Then, we got mad.

Mr. Walkabout, an Aussie, told us he didn’t have a room for us, and there was no way we could have reserved a triple room because he doesn’t have any triple rooms. Then he just sat and stared at us. He was a jerk. We asked him where he suggested we go, then, if he couldn’t help us. He pointed us around the corner to a hotel called Flamingos. This turned out to be quite a blessing.

Flamingos was great. They were very nice and very helpful, and it was a much better place to stay than if we had been able to stay at Walkabout. If you ever go to Phnom Penh, I recommend this place. Don’t go to Walkabout.

Again, we only had two beds, but it was clean and there was a/c. And the bathroom was again, combo toilet/shower/sink all-in-one. But, it was clean and nice. Although in the drawer of the nightstand, we found some interesting, um, trinkets.

If you can't tell what this is, I will leave it to your imagination.

This area of the world is known for prostitution. I think no matter where we would have stayed, we would have seen this. Throughout our trip through all three countries, I was annoyed and grossed-out at the number of old white guys with young Thai or Asian wives tagging along with them. It’s not a good thing.

We ate lunch at the hotel, then headed off to a museum. It was once a school, then was turned into a prison camp by the Khmer Rouge, and is now a museum. It was pretty graphic. But I was glad we went.

Then we went to the National Museum, just before it closed. A complete waste of $3.

We went back to the hotel and checked email and whatnot. While Friend A and I were in the lobby on email, someone came in and turned on CNN. It was breaking news of the bombings in London. Friend A and I sat up for the next several hours glued to CNN. We had fries. And Tiger beer. It’s just unbelievable what goes on in the world, and it’s interesting to watch from another perspective than being in the U.S.

I got a bed all to myself that night. I could cough myself to sleep all alone . . . So nice . . .

I was glad to leave Phnom Penh the next day. I would go back, but I didn’t especially like the city. It’s seedy. I was surprised at the number of Aussies we kept running into all through Cambodia. Not that they are seedy. But it was interesting.

Also, traffic was again horrendous. But I doubt one would ever find a place in Asia where traffic was not a horrendous mess. There were very few traffic lights, even at "major" intersections. And even then, the traffic lights seems to be merely a suggestion. A red light seemed only to indicate that you should slow down a little before hurtling yourself into the oncoming traffic to keep going the way you want to go.

We did get the limousine bus from Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh City, complete with bathroom. And, no karaoke! It was a pleasant ride, although another 6 hrs on a bus. But it was good to go this way. They helped us through the border into Vietnam, mostly without incident. Through a series of getting on and off the bus, checking passports, waiting in a line, yada yada. It was quite a routine.

I was the last of the three of us to make it through the final stage, and when I got to the bus I found Friend A yelling at locals who were trying to take our bags and handle them to put them back on the bus, and then demand money for this “service”. She had wrangled our bags away from them and she was putting them on the bus herself. I’m glad we brought her. She’s handy.

Thus ended our time in Cambodia. I would go back again. In fact, I want very much to go back. I don't feel like I spent enough time there, or in any of these places, really. I would probably fly in, rather than travel by road. But I’m glad we went by road this time. It was hard, and I feel like I am now a qualified, seasoned, “roughin’ it” worthy traveler now having gone that way. No frou-frou travel for me, thank you very much. But it was good to see the country that way. I think it was a better experience, getting more out of it as a whole than had we bypassed all of that to travel in comfort by air.

My one disappointment with Cambodia was that we did not find Angelina Jolie anywhere. And believe me, we looked. Everywhere. I was certain she would be there to hang out with us. Maybe next time.

Next adventure - Vietnam.

continued in Travel Writing, part 3 - Vietnam

c.t.

Travel Writing - Bangkok
Really, that's all I want to do. Travel, and write.

I've been back a few days from my trip to Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam, and I'm still adjusting. I think my body clock is back on track, for the most part. But my heart and soul is still in Southeast Asia.

It was a GREAT trip, complete with a trip soundtrack on my nonpod mp3 player that ended up being perfect for the variety of adventures that ensued (a mix of Black Eyed Peas, old school Michael Jackson, U2, Coldplay, Joss Stone, Kelly Clarkson, Earth, Wind & Fire, Blood, Sweat & Tears, Usher, Sheryl Crow, and on and on). It's a mix that makes no sense, yet for every bus ride or bumpy car ride that required tunes, I had something on the nonpod that provided the perfect muscial interlude.

Even after a trip, I usually come home and continue researching and reading about the places I've just visited. I've read some travel blogs this week by people who have traveled to the places I've just been, and I'm absolutely in love with the whole world of travel, adventure, and writing about it. I don't care if anyone cares about what I have to say about it. It's just beautiful to me.

It's a completely different world over there, and I loved it. It's so simple. Us Westerners make life so complicated and difficult and stressed. It's nice to see that life doesn't have to be that way. Of course, there are difficulties over there that are completely different than any difficulties most Americans face on any given day. But, I think "stress" is a foreign concept to them. Meaning, I think Americans invented the word.

We started in Bangkok, Thailand. Friend C flew over early, so I met her there a few days later. She found me at the airport, and after a taxi ride to our hotel, we went in search of food. Sadly, all of the places she had in mind for me to eat my first Thailand meal were closed, since it was late at night. So we ended up at Water Bar, her favorite bar and hangout from her two years of living in Bangkok, where she swore me to secrecy that my first meal in Thailand was ... fried rice.

We spent the next four days or so seeing the entire city. She showed me all of her favorite restaurants and places. We visited the Grand Palace.















And we visited some other templey-type place.


















There was a picnic in the park that was fabulous until the monsoon rains came. And there was shopping at some of the most unebelievable malls I've ever seen. America has nothing on malls in Bangkok. They are completely modern, are several stories tall, and are a complex maze of passageways and escalators, serving only to get one lost in a sea of shops and restaurants. I think I'm good on malls for the rest of the year.

The food was amazing. Except the night Friend C tried to kill me with some green curry that was quite possibly the spiciest thing I've ever put in my mouth. But otherwise, everything we ate was delicious. I tried to eat and drink something different for every meal throughout the trip. I may only eat a variety of about four things while at home. But when on vacation, I want to experience all of it. Fortunately, nothing made me really sick. I had a few stomach moments throughout the trip. But for the most part, food did me well.

Our July 4th celebration took place on Saturday, July 2. We found the shindig put on by the Americans for the city, and decided to stop in to see what there was to see. What there was, was American food, complete with burgers, hot dogs, ribs, and bad American beer. We didn't eat the food. I can eat burgers at home. There was also a very cranky Uncle Sam barking orders at people to move through the program for the evening. The Thai Army band was there, but before you pass judgement, they kinda rocked. The singing was terrible, but the band itself rocked it's way through lots of American covers, down to The Cranberries, who aren't actually American, but are known by all good Americans. It was funny to see the band rocking out in their Thai Army uniforms. If you didn't see them, but heard them without seeing them, you would not think they sounded like they looked.

Then, the fireworks happened. I'm not really sure what safety precautions were taken (if any), but when the fireworks started, Friend C and I suddenly found ourselves covered in flaming firework shrapnel. The fireworks were being shot from directly behind the school building we were all standing next to, firing directly overhead. So as we looked up, they exploded right above us, probably not as high in the air as they should have gone before exploding. And the result was a lot of confused people screaming and running for cover under the tents. It all lasted about 5 minutes. Most. Bizarre. And. Dangerous. Fireworks. Show. Ever.

Afterwards, Friend C and I went to a lovely restaurant called The Pickle Factory. No pickles. No factory. But great Thai pizza and beverages. I learned one very important thing in Bangkok. Singha = good, Beer Chiang = bad.

Friend A joined us Sunday night, and the following day (July 4) was a day of more shopping and eating, and some sightseeing. We also did the thai massage again. Soooo good!

I don't know what it is about bookstores, but I go through phases of not being able to stay out of bookstores. I don't read every book I buy, but I can get lost in a bookstore and be quite happy there for awhile. I think I went in every Asia Books and Bookazine store we passed in Bangkok (except for the Bookazine I couldn't find while Friends A and C got manicures and pedicures). They went in to the shop and could tell I wasn't down for the pampering. Friend C asked, "What do you want to do while we are here?" I said, "Ummm..... books." She pointed me in the direction of books, and I was in heaven for the next hour or so, wandering around on my own in search of books that I don't need. I even got another iced coffee, one of many during the trip.

I never bought a book in Bangkok (not even at the market when we found the used book tent! It was so beautiful! books in english everywhere! and cheaper than cheap!), but I've bought a couple of books since I've been home. A by-product of still wanting to get my hands on more Asia goodness.

I really liked Bangkok. It took me a day or so to get used to the city. And to the heat and humidity. I’m not usually bothered by heat (I do, after all, live in Texas), so I was generally fine. It just took awhile to understand that even though I will shower in the morning, as soon as I step outside I will be drenched with sweat for the rest of the day.

It’s a very busy city, dirty and poor in some places. There are smells, not always of the good variety. The motorbikes whizzing around scared the Bajeezus out of me more than once. They even come up on the sidewalks, so it pays to be alert at all times while walking. Funny, even though you will see signs everywhere that say "Safety First" (my favorite motto!) in both english and thai, the city is basically one big hazard waiting to happen in many places.

Traffic is ridiculous. They drive on the opposite side of the road, for one thing. But really, they just drive all over the road, close to other cars and bikes, and there really seems to be no rules. Getting in a taxi and paying any amount of attention to how the taxi driver is driving will only succeed in freaking you out. Just enjoy the sights outside the window. And if you are lucky, enjoy a crazy conversation with a taxi driver that thinks you are beautiful.

Otherwise, getting around the city is amazingly easy with the Skytrain and the new underground subway. It’s a very modern city, with very pretty people in very pretty and cute clothes walking busily around. Everyone smiles. Everyone is friendly. Everyone is shorter than me. I loved it.

We took a couple of rides on the river.
That was another fun way to see the city. We walked a lot, including one really long walk for dinner one night that proved a bit scary when we discovered the restaurant we were searching for was now a pile of rubble on a dark street. Sometimes I questioned my blind following of Friend C as she took me all over the city. But, she always came through, even when the plan changed (eventually we decided that the plan was that the plan would change) and usually she rewarded me with some good food for our efforts. Except that shredded crunchy catfish salad she tricked me into eating during our picnic. I may not forgive her for that one.

Here, Friend C prepares the catfish salad.

THEY SHRED THE CATFISH AND CALL IT A SALAD!!! AACK!!

All in all, Bangkok was great. I am so glad to have had that time with Friend C for her to show me this world of hers where she lived for two years. I hear her speak about it so often, I'm glad I now understand more about that part of her life and exactly what is so beautiful about that land far away.

We did have one case of unfortunate luck during our last night there. But it was minor in the grand scheme of things, and worked out fine.

I almost hated to leave Bangkok, but I was very excited about the next part of our trip – Cambodia.

continued in Travel Writing, part 2 - Cambodia

C.T.

Left Behind
Just like that super scary Christian book series about the end of the world.

So, I leave the country for a couple of weeks, and it seems that my blog community continues to blog (I hesitate to enlist myself in this "MOL" mess that everyone keeps going on about, as I'm not sure how to get in or out or if I am one or what is up). The blog community strangely seems to go on without me.

I get back and start reading through a few of my usual blogs, and it's like entire worlds of stuff has happened in my absence. It's so much to read, I have quickly become discouraged. It's overwhelming, all the words and stuff. It may actually be easier to just talk to you people and get caught up. Yikes.

So this is to say that any time I am out of the country, all blogging should cease until I return.

I just can't get caught up, and now I feel left behind. In fact, it's like I don't even know you people anymore.

Please feel sorry for me.

Although, I was in several exotic Asian countries. So that kinda makes up for it....

Not so much glad to be home, but home noentheless. I do so love me travels.

More catching up later....

C.T.

All good things must come to an end
I really hate that. And whoever invented that statement.

Tomorrow I head home from my whirlwind adventure through Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. I've had a fabulous time with my fabulous Friends C & A. But I have not spent enough days in any of those places to do them justice. It's really been an amazing adventure, and I'm super sad to go home.

I mean, dudes. I saw PIGS go by on a motorbike in Cambodia. Seriously. How can I stand to leave a country that lets their pigs travel on bikes???

I can't even do it justice to sum up the trip. Ankgor Wat in Cambodia was the highlight for me. I climbed all over those ancient Buddhist temples like I was a kid again (and not anywhere near 29 years of age. I may have embarrassed A & C a bit... heee). I climbed to the top of everything that would let me climb as high as I could go. I made my way through dark passages and twisty, windy tunnels that led further and further into ancient temples. It was all very Indiana Jones (which I have to confess has been a childhood obsession of mine), and also very Tomb Raider.

I mean, dudes. I climbed through the temple where Tomb Raider was filmed. The ONLY thing that would have made it more awesome is if 1) Tomb Raider was actually a good movie, and b) Angelina Jolie had been there to greet me and climb through the temple with me, as though we were friends.

In any case, I took at least 108 pictures of Ankor Wat alone. I hope at least half of them turn out to be good pictures.

I've spent the last day and a half here in Vietnam, and I will leave from here tomorrow night. I love Vietnam. I will need to come back to these places someday and spend more time.

But for now, I will go have my last fun Asian dinner. I will buy some more souvenirs and gifts for $1 or so. And I will spend my last day tomorrow touring some pagodas and a museum, and eating more good food.

I've been sick since Tuesday, trouble breathing, coughing and whatnot. Today my face got ridiculously swollen, but it's better now. I may have been bitten by something, but I have yet to see a bite mark anywhere. And yet, today I biked through the Mekong Delta on a mountain bike, through a coconut jungle.

I mean really, dudes. It doesn't get much better than that.

Same, same, but different.

C.T.

My new Thai boyfriend
Hopefuly Boy J will not be too jealous. I will, after all, leave my new Thai boyfriend here in Thailand.

Yesterday Friend C and I took a taxi here in Bangkok and we met my new Thai boyfriend. He asked our names, and then decided I was beautiful. He proceeded to say my name over and over again, and it went something like this:

"Sari.... Sari.... Sari.... Sari...."

Naturally this is not my name. But it's the way he decided my name sounded. He even wrote it down on a piece of paper. While driving the busy streets of Bangkok, no less.

He continued to talk to us, some in English. But some Thai. I speak no Thai. But Friend C gets around pretty good with the Thai. So the taxi driver would ask me a question, and Friend C would answer on my behalf.

It was hilarious.

He asked how old I was. I told him 29, honestly. His response was:

"Sari... so young! Sari... so young! Sari... so young!"

I fell in love with him right then.

But I don't think it will work out between us. Maybe it's the language barrier. Maybe it's the big hairy mole he had on his left cheek. Maybe it's that he said he was 49 years old. And that is too old for me, since I am so young at 29.

But it was FUNNY.

Funniest. Taxi ride. Ever.

Too bad it didn't get us a free cab ride. Me being so young and beautiful and all.

That would have been sweet.

C.T.

Human Jungle-gym
I am in Thailand. And yesterday I experienced (can't say "got" because it was something much more than getting, it was an experience) my first Thai massage.

Now, if you've never experienced a Thai massage, it is quite unique. A very tiny Thai girl proceeds to have her way with you for an hour (or two- we just ordered for one hour), then you are left in a pile of tenderized muscled to decided if you are still able to walk yourself out of the massage place. I was poked, pushed, prodded, and dare-I-say touched in places I didn't know I had.

It started with a foot massage, and for those of you who know me, you know that I hate people touching my feet. It happened before I could protest. But, it felt good. I managed not to freak out. Except the part where she pulled my toes. Each one. Til they popped. I had to double check that I left with all of my toes still attached.

These are things that went through my head during the hour of massage-ness (WARNING- Dudes, you will likely want to re-read this several times):

"I had no idea my leg could twist that way!"

"Ooh! That's an odd sensation..."

"I think her knee is.... um yep that's where it is."

"I'm pretty sure she's sitting on me."

"No, actually I'm pretty sure she is now standing on me."

"Wow, I've never been walked on before. Interesting."

"Um.... yeah now she's laying on me."

"Ooh, now I'm laying on her...."

"I'm pretty sure I will never have children now. But right now I am too weak too care."

All in all, things popped that have never popped before. Things twisted in ways that they have never twisted before. Basically I was like a human jungle-gym. It's like this girl trained for the Olypmics on gymnastics equipment, and when she didn't make the Thai team she turned her talents to Thai massage.

I was pummeled. For an hour. Not believing that the human body could take that kind of punishment for TWO hours.

And I will go back and do it again on Monday.

It was amazing.

C.T.

Nonpod
Seriously, if I read ONE MORE POST about somebody's Ipod and how great it is, I may have to stop talking to you people. REALLY, is this all you people do? Ipod? It's like a cult.

Let me introduce you to my new best friend who will be accompanying me to Thailand tomorrow. I like to refer to her as my Nonpod. Her name is Kermita. She is the Creative Muvo Mini.

She doesn't hold nearly as many songs as an Ipod. But she is much smaller in size than an Ipod. I can put only my favorites on her, so I don't have to sift through a million songs to get to one I like. And really, I bought her to help with the bike training. I needed simple, light, non-breakable.

I am not tied to her like an umbilical cord, as you Ipod-people are to your Ipods. I do, however, refer to her as a person.

There is mp3 life outside of Ipod. People, you have all been brainwashed by Ipods that they are the only acceptable mp3 player out there. I am here to tell you there are others! And they are ok!

She can't do all the fancy things your Ipods can do. But, she is affordable. And cool. And I can record directly to her without using my computer to transfer songs. HA!

And she is pretty green.

And I love her.

She's my new best friend.

My Nonpod.

C.T.

Packing?
What?

I probably should be packing now. I get on a plane tomorrow morning for my whirlwind tour of Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam.

Eh, I'm a last minute packer. I'll be fine.

I'm very excited for my trip. I love getting really far away from my world. I think I like it better when I get back if I've gotten as far away as possible for awhile.

It should be quite an adventure, especially being someone who tends to stick to sweet and sour chicken when it comes to "chinese" food. I realize I'm not going to China. My point is that I have a history of saying I don't like Asian food, even though I just really haven't given it much of a chance. I'm branching out. It's growing on me.

To prepare for my trip I rented:

The Killing Fields, for Cambodia.
We Were Soldiers, for Vietnam.

I've already seen Good Morning Vietnam several times.

I am now going to Southeast Asia with the fresh picture in my mind that Americans do, in fact, suck. We are quite horrible, actually. Why on earth do people want to come to America? We are mean.

So, blogging will be light for awhile. I hope to blog from the other side of the world. That will be fun for me.

Tomorrow I will sit on a plane for 108 hours. But at least I won't be working.

HA!

Oh, and if anyone can pick me up from the airport on a Monday morning when I get back in a couple of weeks, email me. I'd appreciate it.

C.T.

International Crisis Averted
I leave on Wednesday for a trip across the world to Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Friend C is already there, and Friend A will join us this weekend. Fun should be had by all.

That is, now that I've narrowly escaped a major international incident that was nearly diastrous for my trip.

I originally planned to get my visa for Vietnam while in Bangkok with Friend C, but she decided that I would not have enough days to successfully aquire the visa. So, I had to scramble to get the visa here in the States before I leave.

This involved sending my passport away to the Embassy of Vietnam in Washington DC. Something which I wasn't too thrilled to do, especially without much time left to get the passport back in my hands in time to board my plane.

I sent off the passport, hoping I had followed all of the instructions correctly. And then, I waited.

It takes 5 busines days to get the visa, or 2 business days to get an expedited visa. I decided to gamble and go with 5 days to save some money, and hope that since I had a buffer of a few days, all would be well.

I waited. 5 business days and no passport.

Naturally I assumed that I had done something wrong. I hadn't sent enough money, or I forgot to fill in something on the application, or they didn't believe that the passport photo I sent was recent enough (I think it's several years old), or I put the wrong address, or they hate skinny white girls trying to go to Vietnam for no good reason except to have fun. I tcould have been any number of ridiculous things running through my head as to why Vietnam had confiscated my passport, forcing me to go into hiding to escape the army of little vietnamese women they would send after me because of whatever I had done wrong.

Then, the weekend. There is nothing I can do about it over the weekend, so this meant I had all weekend to worry about it. But I finally put in the tracking numbers of the Fed Ex slips to see where my passport might be. I learned that it had been delivered overnight to the Embassy. But it had not been shipped back to me, yet.

This sent me into immediate panic. But, quiet panic. When stressed, The Cynical Tyrant tends to get even more quiet than I usually am. I also have bad dreams and lose a lot of sleep.

I didn't sleep much this weekend. I had two dreams that my passport arrived without a problem, on time. I had one horrible dream that the passport didn't make it back in time for my flight. The bad dream stuck in my mind all weekend.

This morning I began calling the Embassy in DC as early as I could. If the passport hadn't shipped, yet, I needed to convince the Vietnam Embassy that it is vitally important that they ship it to me right away, so that I would get it by tomorrow, and make it to my flight Wednesday morning.

I anticipated this to be a problem for severalfold reasons:
1. When I called the Vietnam Embassy to get the fees for the visa, the person I spoke with spoke very little english back to me. I figure my whining on the phone now would not translate well into vietnamese.

2. Why would Random Vietnam Embassy Person have pity on me when I could have spent the extra $20 for expedited service, which would have brought my passport back to me last week, within 2 business days?

3. As I began calling the Embassy this morning, I kept getting a busy signal, then no answer, then a busy signal, then no answer, and so on. I naturally assumed this meant that the Embassy had ceased to exist over the weekend, and they had disappeared with my passport that I would never see again. If I couldn't get ahold of them, I would not be able to explain my desperate need for my passport before Wednesday.

By this point I was super stressed and fairly certain I would not be boarding my plane on Wednesday. Plus, my co-workers are in on the whole story, so they kept asking if I'd gotten my passport, yet. Which made me panic even more. I began wondering what to do with an international (and not cheap) plane ticket, but no passport which would allow me to actually get on the plane. Certainly that would not be a good situation. And I began congratulating myself once again for being an idiot and not going with the expedited service that would have been more expensive, but would have saved me from several heart attacks and a fear of not flying.

Finally, I got through to the Embassy, and was rewarded with a conversation with a Vietnamese woman who did not speak much english. It was probably the same woman I talked to before.

Eventually I communicated to her my birthdate, first and last name, and that I needed to know the status of my visa and passport.

She said they had sent it back to me on Friday.

I asked if she was sure, because I had checked the tracking and it said that it had not shipped, yet. She gave me the tracking number (oops, it seemed I had written it down wrong in the first place....). I said thanks.

I walked back to my desk and put in the correct tracking number on the Fed Ex website. Sure enough, my passport had shipped Friday. Had I known this before the weekend (meaning I would have needed to write down the tracking number correctly to know this pertinent tracking information), I would not have freaked out about not knowing the whereabouts of my passport all weekend.

About five minutes after getting off the phone with the Embassy, the receptionist called to tell me I had a Fed-Ex... which I found to contain my passport.

Crisis and international incident averted.

God bless the Vietnam Embassy and Fed-Ex, without which I might never make it on my plane on Wednesday.

C.T.

Ninja Documentary
Over the weekend I witness what I believe to be a ninja documentary disguised as a major Hollywood motion picture. For decades, the ninjahood has been looking for ways to infiltrate mainstream popculture to influence the movers and shakers of Hollywood. Because we all know that celebrities are the most influential people in the world.

Why? Because they are better than us.

And what is this ninja-mentary I saw? None other than..... Batman Begins.

Friend Z muttered something to me about ninjas and Batman last week. I did not understand what he was trying to tell me. It could be that he mutters in Spanish. But, once the ninja-mentary began I quickly understood that he was communicating to me that Batman is a ninja!

IT'S SO COOL!!

I loved the movie and all it had to offer. It's by far the best Bat-flick, and Christian Bale is by far the best bat-dude.

And even with all the TomKat (Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes) romance brew-ha-ha, Katie is suprisingly non-annoying in the movie, with the exception of a few Joey moments that put her right back on the Creek. Not that I didn't enjoy her on the Creek, but what happens at the Creek stays at the Creek. She is much better in Pieces of April, a film in which I developed a strong liking of her as an actress, which has since been marred by this whole Tom Cruise nonsense.

But really, the film focuses on Bruce Wayne as he wrestles with his demons and becomes our hero, Batman. There is very little Katie to contend with. He is driven by fear, which was interesting to explore. Lots of good quotes struck a chord with me, both as a ninja, and as someone who struggles with fear. We are a rare breed.

"What you fear most is your own anger."

"Look past your own pain, Bruce."

"It's not who I am underneath, it's what I do that defines me."

Such wisdom found in a movie about a dude dressed as a bat.

I highly recommend this movie. For cool ninja stuff, and for an exploration into what drives us out of tragedy, and into who we are to become in the face of what we fear most.

C.T.

Prayer Request

PLEASE, pray hard to make this happen, people.




What the world needs now is a bit more spice. A Spiceworld, if you will.

Spice up your life.

Viva Forever.

C.T.

Field of Weeds...
Or is it?

I drive by a field on my way to work everyday. There is nothing unique about it. Everyday, just a field of weeds. It adds nothing to my drive, and really actually reminds me that Texas can be really ugly when lots of earth are left to their own devices and not landscaped. We tend to have an abnormal amount of scraggly weeds here in Texas.

Then one day last week I noticed the field isn't weeds.

It's a field of really tall, really beautiful.... sunflowers.

They just hasn't bloomed, yet. And had until recently only appeared to be a field of tall, nasty weeds.

I've looked forward to seeing it everyday. It surprised me.

I'm sure there's a life lesson in there somewhere.

C.T.

Crazy, Part 2
Be sure to read Crazy, Part 1 first.

This is a series exploring the issue of if I am or am not crazy, and how much crazy I really am.

While I was in Cancun, I decided to read The Catcher in the Rye. I brought it with me. Yes, it is an odd choice. But then, I am odd.

Or crazy, some might say.

I've begun collecting old books, namely classics or old books I read when I was younger. I love the "library" variety of books. The ones from when I was a kid 20 (yipes!) or so years ago. Hard cover, well-worn, yellowed edges of pages. My mom would take my sister and me to the library every week during the summer and we'd bring home loads of books to read for the library summer reading programs. The books smelled like the library, and I loved that smell. I loved reading through books as fast as I could. No matter how many books I brought home that week, I read all of them.

I didn't so much play with other kids. I pretty much just read books.

I have to confess that my sister started the "old book" collection hobby. I guess I inherited that interest from her. I haven't pursued it seriously. And I don't buy expensive books. But what I like to do is shop library book sales, like when the city libraries sell old books that they have and that people donate. Or used book stores. I don't go very often, but I try to keep my eye out for cool old books. That cost a quarter or so.

The cheapness is what makes them super special.

So, I've started my collection, even though I don't read as much anymore. And so far my collection consists mostly of books that I haven't ever read before, but that I would like to read, or that I feel like I should read because society considers it a "classic". Like, Last of the Mohicans. Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn. You know the ones.

In my collection I have a really old paperback copy of The Catcher in the Rye. I think I did pay a quarter for it. I finally decided to read it. I just finished it tonight.

First of all, that dude Holden Caufield? Straight-up crazy. I loved it. He just rambles on and gets himself in trouble and makes no sense, but just keeps going along like he's ok.

Second, I won't ruin the story for you by telling you what's up with the "catcher in the rye". But you won't run into it in the story until way past halfway, so don't give up on it if you really want to read it and figure out what's up with that. And when you get there, be prepared for a "Rosebud" moment.

Third, his last sentence is pessimistically brilliant, and something I am sad to say I agree with right now. It speaks to me. But that could just be because I'm partly straight-up crazy, and I have a lot of heavy things on my mind right now.

"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

It's a strange story and nothing really happens in it, but I found it oddly calming. However, if anyone ever notices that I start buying a copy of it every time I see it, and my cool old book collection turns into a ridiculous collection of multiple upon mulitple copies of The Catcher in the Rye (like Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory), you have my permission to borrow Angelina's straight jacket from Girl, Interrupted, put me away somewhere where I can't hurt myself or others, and give me a math proof to work on until I solve both the proof, and the reason behind my crazy.

C.T.

Crazy, Part 1
I've begun to seriously consider lately that I may be somewhat straight-up crazy. I think maybe I've known this for most of my 29 years. But only recently have I had the guts to put the "crazy" label on it and wonder if I should begin to embrace all that lies within my crazy.

Three things over the past week or so have helped me feel better amongst my own crazy:

1. Boy J took me to see a play. It had nothing to do with my crazy, nor did he know it would be good for me to see. At least I don't think he knew, unless he is smarter than I gave him credit for and knows me better than I thought I'd let him know me thus far. But the play itself spoke to me in my language of crazy. It was called Proof, and it is about a twenty-something girl who spent several years caring for her genius, yet mostly nuts father, until he passed away. During this time she begins (as well as those around her) to question her own state of crazy, wondering if she has inherited any of her father's crazy. They are both geniuses and a lot alike, and it's a beautiful story of a messed up family where there is still love in the struggle to understand parts of life, personality, well-being, and emotional states that don't always make sense to the ones we love who are outside of our head. I loved it. Even the really uncomfortable scenes that showed two people yelling passionately at each other, trying to make sense of each other. It spoke to me.

2. I watched a movie that is quickly becoming my new favorite movie: Bend it Like Beckham. In fact, I bought the movie last week. I don't even like soccer, and I can't understand half of what they say in the movie because of their British-ness. But I love this movie. I love British accents. I need someone to follow me around all day and just say things to me Britishly. Even when they are angry, they sound cheery, or at least silly. And sometimes I just need silly Britishness. For no good reason. If I ever have voices in my head, I do sincerely hope they are British.

3. I watched another movie that has been a favorite, but I never bought it. Until last week, that is. I watched Girl, Interrupted. Angelina is in it, which makes it good, even though her hotness is questionable. But what I love about this movie is that when I am feeling crazy and like I don't make sense to anyone around me, sometimes I feel better to watch a movie about people who are clearly crazier than I am. They are completely nuts, but they say things that make sense to me. Each character is an extreme manifestation of every insecurity I've felt, or feel now. But what's more important is that they all fit together and they work, maybe in spite of the crazy. Or maybe because of it. One person's crazy is another person's comfort, or security. And sometimes, the thought of checking out of my life and into the looney bin is appealing just enough to the point when the possibility of a straight jacket comes in to play. And by then I've watched enough of this movie to realize I can probably keep going with my world, outside of the asylum. Either way, I'm intrigued by this film. And it helps me feel a wee bit saner.

These things three, have brought peace to the crazy in my head of late. Yet the true state of my crazy is still to be determined.

C.T.

Brangelina
Forget Katie and Tom. Brad and Angelina are WAY hotter.

I just saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith. One word.

Hotness.

I am in love.

Granted, it is not the film of the year. There are some cheesy moments. It needed more exotic locations. Plot? What? Who needs it!

And, continuity. I'm pretty sure I saw Brad shoot up Angelina's car, then ride in it through some bushes and down a hill (ie: crash eventually off screen). But then Angelina is back a scene later in what looks like the same car, only it is in perfect condition. Was this done on purpose? Is it a mistake? Is the car magic? Are there two of the same car never seen together anywhere else in the film? Only Brangelina know for sure.

But overall, good film fun. It is action packed. It is funny. There are spies doing spy things. Lots of guns and things blowing up. The dialogue is actually smartly witty. And the performances are of action/comedy caliber.

And did I mention, it is HOT.

Although I do have to say there are some certain aspects missing from any film containing Angelina or Brad. Noticeably missing. Namely both actors keep their clothes on.

It's. So. Odd.

But.... hotness anyway.

And also, I believe this to be a Christian film for the following reasons (see if you can spot these references in the movie):

1. Reference to the classic Amy Grant song, "Baby, Baby". She is not the one singing it in the movie, but we all know she made the song famous and that she sang it to Jesus.

2. "Jesus Rocks" proudly displayed on attire.

3. Jesus fish proudly on display in a home.

Therefore, I can only conclude that Brangelina and their movie are of God. You are henceforth blessed to watch it.

Also, I have developed a strange fascination and liking of the hybrid name "Brangelina".

I may name my firstborn child Brangelina.

C.T.elina

Sale of the Century
My garage sale was a success. And I hope to never do that again. At least not for a very, very long time.

MAN, that's a lot of work! I'm still recovering.

But I sold a lot of crap (thanks to those of you who donated your crap to my crap!). And made a bit of cash so that I can pay some bills, and also go buy some much needed new threads. My clothes are so out of date, they can actually still be referred to as "threads". Like in the '70s.

I did not sell the computer desk. It was the ONE thing I absolutely wanted to sell, mostly for spite from years of suffering through banging my knee on the drawer nearly everyday. It sat by the sidewalk all day, looking ever-so-appealing. I marked it down twice. By the end of the day during my 1/2 Off Sale, it was priced at $7.50. Who wouldn't want a desk for $7.50?? But, someone ended up with it for free. When I closed down for the day, I put all the bulky junk by the curb for the trash. And by the end of the next day, all of it had been carted off by "after garage sale shoppers".

Whatever. At least it's out of my house.

The rest of the "treasures" that could be of use are now sitting at my church, donated for my church garage sale next month. Hooray!

Overall, the house is much less full of clutter. I still need to put it back together and clean, but I'm feeling good about the place. It's just so nice to get rid of stuff you really don't need anymore.

And, as every garage sale has at least one good story, here is mine.

Fairly early in the day, a man arrived with his daughter in tow, both dressed in traditional Middle Eastern garb of some sort. The man spoke some english, but he was using his daughter to translate.

He had in his hands two phones, a drill, and a digital camera (which I got for free and I'm pretty sure doesn't work, but I figured I could sell it anyway). All together this stuff was priced at over $20-ish, and it was still before 10am. WAY before bargain markdown madness.

He said: "You take $10 for this." He meant for all of it.

The daughter translated for me: "Will you take $10 for all of these things?"

I said: "$15". I mean, come on. He had TWO practically brand new cordless phones, a drill, and a digital camera. $15 was a steal.

He said: "You take ten." This was no longer a question. He was informing me that I would be taking $10 for all of it.

I said: "I'll take $15." Not because I really wanted the $15, but because I didn't like his attitude, and I knew the stuff would sell later in the day if he didn't take it. And because even if it didn't sell later in the day, I didn't like this guy ripping me off. I'd rather give it away later.

He moved towards the electrical outlet. "This work?" He meant the drill. He plugged it in. Of course it worked.

He said: "Fine."

HA!

Then he said: "Bag please." Also not a question. I was to give him a bag.

The daughter translated for me: "Can we have a bag for this stuff?" She seemed nice. I felt bad for her. She was probably 13 years old or so. You know her dad drags her to garage sales every Saturday and insists on paying no more than $10 for whatever amount of stuff he has in his hands, using her to translate.

I said: "Sure! You can have a bag. The bag is $5."

The daughter looked at me, like I was insane. The dad wasn't paying attention. He was looking at other stuff on a table.

I smiled: "I'm just kidding. The bag is free."

She laughed. "That's really funny."

I know. I'm hysterical when it comes to garage sale humor.

I began putting his stuff in a bag, and then I watched him. He had the drill still in his hand, and he had found an orange plug adapter thingie that I had on the table, marked with a sticker for 25 cents.

I watched as he put the plug adapter thingie on the plug part of the cord attached to the drill, then I watched as he tore off the $.25 sticker and threw it on the ground, and then I watched as he put all of it in the bag with his other stuff and walked off to his car. HE WASN'T EVEN SNEAKY ABOUT IT!

The daughter didn't seem to notice.

SERIOUSLY?!?!?

He makes a big deal about paying practically nothing for the "expensive" stuff. Then he thinks he has stuck it to me by stealing a 25 cent plug adapter thingie????

I could not stop laughing.

SO FUNNY!!

He sure showed me.

Thanks to all my helpers, Dad, Mom, and Boy J. Without your help I would have been outside in the heat all day by myself, dealing with the likes of that guy.

C.T.

My Eyes!! My Eyes!!!
In the last 7 minutes I have seen the three most horrible things I will likely ever witness in my entire life.

I have not had much time for TV lately, but in the 15 minutes that I have been home tonight, changed clothes, made my dinner cereal, and made it to the couch to flip on the TV for a few minutes, I have seen such horrible things as I will try to describe here.

My co-workers and I were just today lamenting that there is no good TV on in the summer. We have nothing to watch. Tonight proves that point ridiculously well.

I happened to catch 19 seconds of Will Smith rapping at the NBA finals game. His hat was on sideways. Didn't that stop being cool... um, before people wore it as something that might be cool? Dude, you are no longer the Fresh Prince. Granted, some people I know can't get enough of you. And you are cool. But not when hopping around a stage with your hat on crooked. Straighten it out, for the love.

But alas, this does not even begin the horrible-ness my eyes were yet to witness.

My TV then made it's way to the most horrible thing I have ever been forced to watch. It is a new show called Hit Me Baby One More Time, on NBC. I had never seen or heard of it before. As if the name of the show isn't bad enough (why must we keep encouraging Britney? If we ignore her, maybe she will go away), I had a hard time deciding if this show was for real, or if everyone on it realizes that the entire world will see this as a huge joke.

As I watched a few minutes of a has-been band (The Knack) perform in front of a live audience that song that is everywhere by The Jetts, and as I tried to figure out the point of this show, this is what came out of my mouth (thinking aloud):

"Hmmm. What is this? Lame old bands that have disappeared cover songs of new bands hoping we will like them better now? Is this really what I'm seeing? This idea has actually made it on TV?"

And what I then read on the NBC website was this: "a one-hour competition program featuring veteran music hit-makers who will each perform their greatest hit -- as well as cover a popular contemporary song -- with the favorite to be determined by audience voting"

Oh. My. Goodness.

I was right (I'm getting way too good at quickly recognizing and analyzing bad TV). And it was awful. I was soooooooooooooooo embarrassed for everyone on the show, including the audience. Yes, there was an audience. And yes, they were singing along and cheering, just like this was a good concert with a good band.

After The Knack finally had the decency to get off the stage, some old dude slithered around the floor singing Toxic ala Britney (seriously, people! Together we can make her go away if we stop propagating her music!)

But the best (and by that I mean the worst) one was Vanilla Ice covering Survivor by Destiny's Child.



He rapped the whole thing. It was genius. The bio piece before his song let us know that Vanilla appears to live in Dallas now. We can all be glad to have him so close. Especially because.... he was tonight's winner!! I'm so glad he's back.

I have to wonder if the current bands belonging to the songs that are being covered by the has-been bands are feeling good about these has-beens butchering their songs on national TV. I mean, really. It's like karaoke for people who used to sing for a living, but don't anymore because they were bad at it. We don't pay them to sing anymore for a reason, people.

Apparently I missed the first week of the show. Oh yes, it's a weekly show. Not just a one time special event. But I might have paid money to see last week's performance of Tiffany covering Kelly Clarkson's Breakaway.



Priceless.

Ok, back to tonight.

After they made this show finally stop playing on my TV, they showed a promo for the next worst reality show ever, I Want to be a Hilton. Yes, as in Paris.

Seriously? This is a show?

And then I saw a commercial for ER.... the video game. Yes. A video game representation of the TV show ER.

Um.... what? Is this like an electronic version of Operation, except you get to be Dr. Carter or Dr. Kovac, or Abby, or one-armed Dr. Romano? So lame.

Folks, all of this horror took place within about 20 minutes. I can hardly believe my eyes.

Where has all the good TV gone?!? Why must we be tortured with such crap during the summer? Most of us don't get vacations that last for months, like actors who only work 6 months out of the year. Just because they are off for the summer doesn't mean we have to suffer. The common people need good TV to survive.

Speaking of Mrs. Britney, do you know what I accidentally saw 2 minutes of Monday night? Her terrible reality show on UPN. I thought I was fairly familiar with white trash before. But after spending two minutes with her and her hubby, she has introduced me to entirely new depths of white trash-ism. It's amazing, really.

Their poor child on the way. It's doomed.

I'm going to wash my eyeballs now. This will certainly teach me to not stay home on a Thursday night. Or a Monday night.

C.T.