I just found myself sending my dad this email...
After careful consideration I have decided NOT to do the Intrepid trip. There seemed like there was just one too many obsticles being put in my way - after the expensive flight into Cambodia I then discovered that I'd been to pre-arrange a Vietnam visa, which I don't really have time to do without major hassle. To be honest now I'm on the road, I realy don't think it owuld be that hard to make it there under my own steam and I didn't like the idea of trying to get somewhere for a particular day at the expense of cutting short my time in Loas - which I really want to explore. I'm quite enjoying just pleasing myself and deciding when it's time to move on. In the case of Pai its tomorrow - it's a bit touristy here, with lots of teenage backpackers just looking for the next party. I have managed to find some cool people amongst all of that, and even teach a yoga class but there really isn't much to do here unless you want to zoom about on a moped and glare at hillstribe people, which I don't.
Anyhoo, to cut a long story short just when I thought I was lost and had no idea what to do next a friend messaged me, we got chatting and she recommended a thai massage course that combines yoga and vipassana meditation, which is conducted in the tribal village of Lahu, where you live for the duration of the 12 day course. A couple of emails and a phone call later and I'm booked onto the next course starting on the 16th with a very accomplished teacher.
It feels like the thing I've been waiting for - combing the 3 things I've been thinking about lately and trying to chose between. Plus, it will be something different. I'm totally over the tourist trail and just want to go somewhere that isn't featured in the damn Lonely Planet.
So for the next 5 days I'm going to hang around Chaign Rai - and there is a chinese village not far outside of the city where you can go horse trekking, which I fancy.
Then I'll be living in a hut (probably with pigs), meditating, doing yoga and learning massage.
The link to the website is here: http://www.thaiyogamassage.infothai.com/
After that the intention will remain to head to Loas and Cambodia - then I'm undecided about after that. maybe Bali, but maybe Burma. I don't know! What's the point in planning, when your plans tend to turn on a sixpence.
So thats it. I'm going native. I'll call you before you go.
Mucho love. xxx
Monday, 10 May 2010
I know not what I am, but what I'm not...
I’m staring at myself in the mirror. Every travelers cliché stares back, sporting an attractive day-glow tattoo, neon devil horns and clutching the mandatory bucket that I’ve just bought from ‘Fuck it, lick it, suck my bucket' bar. (Sorry to any parents and grandparents who are reading). This isn’t me.
For 2 weeks I have settled into jungle life. I’ve dodged the local mafia who casually like to swing their sharpened machetes as they stroll down the beach, clambered over the rocky jungle trail to get to yoga practice on a platform set into the rock face, worked on my Marichyasana and Supta Kurmasana until I was blue in the face and flirted with the cute army doctor cum Thai boxer. But now I’ve reached one of those turning points when you catch sight of yourself and in that moment you know yourself better than you’ve ever known anyone, not because you can say without conviction that you know who you are but because you know who are you not.
For 2 weeks, I have done everything from Chakra Aqua aerobics (really, you don’t want to know), under gone past life regression, travelled to Penang (Malaysia) and back all in the name of visa extension, treaded the boardwalk (precariously made from bamboo and nailed to the rocks, above the ocean) from Had Thien to Had Yaun, eaten my own body weight in Pad Thai – or as my mum, who is quite incapable of grasping any foreign language, consistently calls it – Tad Pie, and gone to and then koh
avoided ‘Guy’s Bar.’ To elaborate, Guy’s bar redefines the concept of your average Jungle boogie. A well established Had Thien institution it pumps out party tunes for the party-hard from midnight Friday to way beyond sunrise on Saturday at a secluded bar in the middle of the jungle where you feel like you can just reach out and touch the stars. No friends are actually necessary; just your dancing shoes and a mushroom shake (if that’s your bag) is all that’s needed. Well, that and some ear plugs if you intend on getting any sleep at all. My personal preference was to party until 5am, go home, crash out, get up, have breakfast and carry on.
Anyway, now I find myself at Koh Phangans infamous Full Moon Party. This isn’t Thailand. This isn’t travelling. This is bullshit. As far as the eye can see there are (sadly) mostly, British tourist getting absolutely off their head on whatever they can get their hands on… and the music isn’t even good. I really fail to believe that these people are actually having a good time. From the guys who are trying to master the flaming skipping rope and getting their butt (and worse) burnt to the couple bitching at one another on the beach, I can’t seem to see anyone that is having genuine fun, although perhaps they think they are which I think makes the whole thing worse.
The Full Moon appears to be one of those things, that was good once. Maybe. But since the attractive tinkle of tourist dollars turned the whole affair into nothing more but a glorified beach barbeque its authenticity has declined.
I wonder if it’s my mindset or (God forbid) my age that is preventing me from having a good time. I mean I like to party and trust me, I’ve partied A LOT, but this really isn’t flicking my switch. On the contrary, I’ve completely short circuited.
Since arriving on Had Thien I have had this niggling feeling that I’ve been unable to put my finger on, but now it’s starting to make sense. Initially I dismissed it and put it down to my own restlessness and inability to live ‘in the flow.’ As someone who has always had a plan, the absence of a plan is like withdrawing a comfort blanket from an over tired child. I freak out. Without even the need to plan, I am utterly lost. This is the reason (well, amongst a couple of others) that I decided to stay on Koh Phangan longer than intended. If I’m always moving, how can I expect whatever it is I’m looking for to find me - if it’s forever playing catch up? Sometimes, you have to be still for the magic to happen.
But now, the urge to leave and leave fast was consuming me.
Honestly, I have indeed had some truly incredible moments on Had Thien that I shared with some awesome people. Sadly though, any tranquility I found was fleeting (and I see it now only in retrospect) because Koh Phangan tries too hard to be the real deal. It is superficially held together by the seedier side to Thailand; its mafia, the associated drug trade and the drippy, hippy, pseudo spiritual people that these little pockets of the world seem to attract. It didn’t feel right to me that a detox centre and those undergoing rigorous cleansing procedures were juxtaposed against a community of people, that (mostly) claimed to be ‘healers’ who sat smoking Opium all day, had an exceptionally high opinion of themselves simply because they think they’ve renounced the commercial world and now somehow think they’re special or different. People, I have news for you - you’ve chosen to eject yourself from society, because you can’t function within it and have created this little cushion around yourselves, to protect you from the outside, where you get to make the rules and feel good as a result… that is, when you’re not blitzing whatever brain cells you have left at this point, under the disillusion that drugs will bring you closer to yourself, or the ultimate truth or whatever it is you want to call it.
Of course, I’d just like to say that I do generalise, so please only take what I say with a pinch of salt. But I can honestly say, I don’t think I’ve found so much pretention amongst a bunch of people who are ‘supposed’ to support the exact opposite.
Before you begin thinking that I had an entirely bad time on Koh Phangan it was actually fantastic. It had a little of everything. I loved living in the jungle. I loved hanging out in the hammocks all day, watching eagles dive for fish in the brilliant blue water. I loved my little bungalow, including the cockroaches in the bathroom and the fact you never really know who you were going to meet.
There is more to this tale of course. There is always more, but talk is not cheap, even if you’re paying baht.
The day I left, I didn’t look back. I was ready to leave. I was ready for something new. For something authentic. Something that didn’t involve drinking anything from a bucket or opening your chakras. Although leaving wasn’t easy. I nearly got involved in a grapple with the absolute arsehole of a boatman, who thinking he was some kind of little Don with a tiger tattooed on his ass, insisted on charging me double to get off the beach and then took me to the wrong side of the Had Rin meaning I had walk to the ferry port in the roasting heat with my 21 kilo pack (yes, it gained a kilo - mostly in fisherman pants and Havana’s).
I was bound for Chiang Mai, in the hope of trading a beach full of tourists and drunks for temples and monks.
For 2 weeks I have settled into jungle life. I’ve dodged the local mafia who casually like to swing their sharpened machetes as they stroll down the beach, clambered over the rocky jungle trail to get to yoga practice on a platform set into the rock face, worked on my Marichyasana and Supta Kurmasana until I was blue in the face and flirted with the cute army doctor cum Thai boxer. But now I’ve reached one of those turning points when you catch sight of yourself and in that moment you know yourself better than you’ve ever known anyone, not because you can say without conviction that you know who you are but because you know who are you not.
For 2 weeks, I have done everything from Chakra Aqua aerobics (really, you don’t want to know), under gone past life regression, travelled to Penang (Malaysia) and back all in the name of visa extension, treaded the boardwalk (precariously made from bamboo and nailed to the rocks, above the ocean) from Had Thien to Had Yaun, eaten my own body weight in Pad Thai – or as my mum, who is quite incapable of grasping any foreign language, consistently calls it – Tad Pie, and gone to and then koh
avoided ‘Guy’s Bar.’ To elaborate, Guy’s bar redefines the concept of your average Jungle boogie. A well established Had Thien institution it pumps out party tunes for the party-hard from midnight Friday to way beyond sunrise on Saturday at a secluded bar in the middle of the jungle where you feel like you can just reach out and touch the stars. No friends are actually necessary; just your dancing shoes and a mushroom shake (if that’s your bag) is all that’s needed. Well, that and some ear plugs if you intend on getting any sleep at all. My personal preference was to party until 5am, go home, crash out, get up, have breakfast and carry on.
Anyway, now I find myself at Koh Phangans infamous Full Moon Party. This isn’t Thailand. This isn’t travelling. This is bullshit. As far as the eye can see there are (sadly) mostly, British tourist getting absolutely off their head on whatever they can get their hands on… and the music isn’t even good. I really fail to believe that these people are actually having a good time. From the guys who are trying to master the flaming skipping rope and getting their butt (and worse) burnt to the couple bitching at one another on the beach, I can’t seem to see anyone that is having genuine fun, although perhaps they think they are which I think makes the whole thing worse.
The Full Moon appears to be one of those things, that was good once. Maybe. But since the attractive tinkle of tourist dollars turned the whole affair into nothing more but a glorified beach barbeque its authenticity has declined.
I wonder if it’s my mindset or (God forbid) my age that is preventing me from having a good time. I mean I like to party and trust me, I’ve partied A LOT, but this really isn’t flicking my switch. On the contrary, I’ve completely short circuited.
Since arriving on Had Thien I have had this niggling feeling that I’ve been unable to put my finger on, but now it’s starting to make sense. Initially I dismissed it and put it down to my own restlessness and inability to live ‘in the flow.’ As someone who has always had a plan, the absence of a plan is like withdrawing a comfort blanket from an over tired child. I freak out. Without even the need to plan, I am utterly lost. This is the reason (well, amongst a couple of others) that I decided to stay on Koh Phangan longer than intended. If I’m always moving, how can I expect whatever it is I’m looking for to find me - if it’s forever playing catch up? Sometimes, you have to be still for the magic to happen.
But now, the urge to leave and leave fast was consuming me.
Honestly, I have indeed had some truly incredible moments on Had Thien that I shared with some awesome people. Sadly though, any tranquility I found was fleeting (and I see it now only in retrospect) because Koh Phangan tries too hard to be the real deal. It is superficially held together by the seedier side to Thailand; its mafia, the associated drug trade and the drippy, hippy, pseudo spiritual people that these little pockets of the world seem to attract. It didn’t feel right to me that a detox centre and those undergoing rigorous cleansing procedures were juxtaposed against a community of people, that (mostly) claimed to be ‘healers’ who sat smoking Opium all day, had an exceptionally high opinion of themselves simply because they think they’ve renounced the commercial world and now somehow think they’re special or different. People, I have news for you - you’ve chosen to eject yourself from society, because you can’t function within it and have created this little cushion around yourselves, to protect you from the outside, where you get to make the rules and feel good as a result… that is, when you’re not blitzing whatever brain cells you have left at this point, under the disillusion that drugs will bring you closer to yourself, or the ultimate truth or whatever it is you want to call it.
Of course, I’d just like to say that I do generalise, so please only take what I say with a pinch of salt. But I can honestly say, I don’t think I’ve found so much pretention amongst a bunch of people who are ‘supposed’ to support the exact opposite.
Before you begin thinking that I had an entirely bad time on Koh Phangan it was actually fantastic. It had a little of everything. I loved living in the jungle. I loved hanging out in the hammocks all day, watching eagles dive for fish in the brilliant blue water. I loved my little bungalow, including the cockroaches in the bathroom and the fact you never really know who you were going to meet.
There is more to this tale of course. There is always more, but talk is not cheap, even if you’re paying baht.
The day I left, I didn’t look back. I was ready to leave. I was ready for something new. For something authentic. Something that didn’t involve drinking anything from a bucket or opening your chakras. Although leaving wasn’t easy. I nearly got involved in a grapple with the absolute arsehole of a boatman, who thinking he was some kind of little Don with a tiger tattooed on his ass, insisted on charging me double to get off the beach and then took me to the wrong side of the Had Rin meaning I had walk to the ferry port in the roasting heat with my 21 kilo pack (yes, it gained a kilo - mostly in fisherman pants and Havana’s).
I was bound for Chiang Mai, in the hope of trading a beach full of tourists and drunks for temples and monks.
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Sleeping with a lady boy does not count as a cultural experience
Since I left the Islands I have been hanging out in the coffee shops and markets of Chiang Mai, gazing over the rice paddy fields of Pai and hiding out from bizarre half naked Chinese men, toting carrier bags full crisps in Chiang Rai.
I arrived late into the Northern City and despite only seeing nothing more than a few dimly lit backstreets, I instantly fell in love with Chiang Mai. For reasons I cannot explain the place just made me smile. And, I mean really smile when you’re whole body seems to exhale.
My days here have been spent wandering the back streets and temples on offer, with very little agenda but to drift. This is place where it’s not unusual to see Monks on motorbikes looking oh so cool, Ray Bans on, mobile phone in hand.
Seriously, I love this place. I cannot tell you how much. And I cannot tell you why. It’s a city, but it feels cosy; blanketed by the surrounding mountains and the protective arm of an ancient city wall.
After indulging myself in an air conditioned café this morning, to get out of the 40 degree heat, I managed to stumble across a local market where nearby local tribes people come to sell their handicrafts. There is all manor of imported bits and pieces from across the neighbouring boarders of Myanmar and China. It drags up memories lost of something that feels like home.
As I stood there surveying the collection of prayer wheels, ornamental Buddha statues, singing prayer bowls, meditation gongs and vibrant prayer flags, I am transported to last time I was in Asia two years previously that inevitably inspired this trip and it makes me ache.
To date, I can’t help feeling like I haven’t found what I’m looking for on this trip. But, without knowing specifically what that is it’s hard to know where you might find it. It’s true that I long to be amongst the Himalayas again, but also know that the incredible experience I had last time could never be replaced and therefore no attempt should be made to recreate it.
Besides, this ‘journey’ is not about sight seeing. I’m not interesting in striking through item after item on a must see list. Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop me questioning if I’m in the right place sometimes though. And it prevents me from being present in the moment I’m always too busy pondering where to go next. It’s a nice problem to have, but one that usually leaves me locked in indecision, frozen like a rabbit in the headlights simply afraid of making the wrong choice. It doesn’t help when all the 20 something gap years are all tramping the same well-worn routes like sheep boasting about their conquests on the Southern Islands and bleating about going tubing in VangVien. Ok so you might not want to get tanked, riding an inflatable in the Thames but I have to confess I don’t really see the appeal. Sorry, but if all you want to do is get wasted on foreign shores you’d be better off to save your parents money and pop to the local pub. This is not a cultural experience unless you count sleeping with a ladyboy.
As you can probably tell, I am beginning to sound a little jaded but with all my being I just want a different kind of experience. Not one that is listed in the Lonely Planet. In fact, I would like to burn my Lonely Planet.
The challenge is, where to find this ‘different’ experience?
I know my anxiety is just the planner in me trying to organize things, trying to provide structure, trying to create some kind of itinerary and with it a purpose. What I need to remember though is that the actual purpose of this trip is to have NO purpose. To let go and put my faith in something greater than myself, that maybe is better placed to decide what is best for me. Because there are times when I sure as hell don’t know.
Chiang Mai teases me though. Here, I feel happy, genuinely happy for the first time in a while. Here, a little piece of my soul surrenders. I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere I have felt so relaxed and at home. And that is a rare and precious thing. I cannot express how much I love this city. I want to carve it up into teeny, tiny little pieces and eat it all up. I don’t think I’ve ever felt cannibalistic about a place before.
I arrived late into the Northern City and despite only seeing nothing more than a few dimly lit backstreets, I instantly fell in love with Chiang Mai. For reasons I cannot explain the place just made me smile. And, I mean really smile when you’re whole body seems to exhale.
My days here have been spent wandering the back streets and temples on offer, with very little agenda but to drift. This is place where it’s not unusual to see Monks on motorbikes looking oh so cool, Ray Bans on, mobile phone in hand.
Seriously, I love this place. I cannot tell you how much. And I cannot tell you why. It’s a city, but it feels cosy; blanketed by the surrounding mountains and the protective arm of an ancient city wall.
After indulging myself in an air conditioned café this morning, to get out of the 40 degree heat, I managed to stumble across a local market where nearby local tribes people come to sell their handicrafts. There is all manor of imported bits and pieces from across the neighbouring boarders of Myanmar and China. It drags up memories lost of something that feels like home.
As I stood there surveying the collection of prayer wheels, ornamental Buddha statues, singing prayer bowls, meditation gongs and vibrant prayer flags, I am transported to last time I was in Asia two years previously that inevitably inspired this trip and it makes me ache.
To date, I can’t help feeling like I haven’t found what I’m looking for on this trip. But, without knowing specifically what that is it’s hard to know where you might find it. It’s true that I long to be amongst the Himalayas again, but also know that the incredible experience I had last time could never be replaced and therefore no attempt should be made to recreate it.
Besides, this ‘journey’ is not about sight seeing. I’m not interesting in striking through item after item on a must see list. Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop me questioning if I’m in the right place sometimes though. And it prevents me from being present in the moment I’m always too busy pondering where to go next. It’s a nice problem to have, but one that usually leaves me locked in indecision, frozen like a rabbit in the headlights simply afraid of making the wrong choice. It doesn’t help when all the 20 something gap years are all tramping the same well-worn routes like sheep boasting about their conquests on the Southern Islands and bleating about going tubing in VangVien. Ok so you might not want to get tanked, riding an inflatable in the Thames but I have to confess I don’t really see the appeal. Sorry, but if all you want to do is get wasted on foreign shores you’d be better off to save your parents money and pop to the local pub. This is not a cultural experience unless you count sleeping with a ladyboy.
As you can probably tell, I am beginning to sound a little jaded but with all my being I just want a different kind of experience. Not one that is listed in the Lonely Planet. In fact, I would like to burn my Lonely Planet.
The challenge is, where to find this ‘different’ experience?
I know my anxiety is just the planner in me trying to organize things, trying to provide structure, trying to create some kind of itinerary and with it a purpose. What I need to remember though is that the actual purpose of this trip is to have NO purpose. To let go and put my faith in something greater than myself, that maybe is better placed to decide what is best for me. Because there are times when I sure as hell don’t know.
Chiang Mai teases me though. Here, I feel happy, genuinely happy for the first time in a while. Here, a little piece of my soul surrenders. I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere I have felt so relaxed and at home. And that is a rare and precious thing. I cannot express how much I love this city. I want to carve it up into teeny, tiny little pieces and eat it all up. I don’t think I’ve ever felt cannibalistic about a place before.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Failure to blog warning...
I received a letter from the Sincere Travel Blogging society yesterday, asking me to close down my site on the grounds that the number of entries I have made since abandoning UK soil is, and I quote ‘outragous, if not downright offensive.’
They gave me 24 hours to write an update or they’d shut me down. So here we are. One installment of several, to better educate you on my escapades in Koh Phangan.
This may take a while.
In my defense I have been living in the jungle for the past 3 weeks, although it feels more like 3 years and therefore, predictably, have had little access to the internet. In fact, I’m not even certain they know what it is there.
Frozen in indecision, once I arrived on Koh Phangan’s Had Thien I seemed incapable of leaving. I have since decided that the energy of the place that makes you feel like you’ve just clawed your way free of a Sunday afternoon laundry spin cycle in fact sends out some kind of jamming signal to your brain, rendering you completely useless.
I spent the best part of the intial week trying to decided whether to stick with my Ashtanga practice – and frankly, who wouldn’t want to when it had so much going for it – clambering the jungle trail, over rocks to the next secluded bay of Wae Nam, I get to Salute the Sun, etc. etc. on a platform set right into the cliff, with views across the Gulf of Thailand. Not only this, but I have not just one but two highly qualified teachers on hand to offer some (much needed) assistance, across a group of a mere dozen and before I know it I’m practically binding solo in my nemesis Marichyasana D and get Kurmasana and Supta Kurmasana added in to.
The alternative is to go to Agama, for a month long course in Tibetan Tantra. Whilst there is an element of harnessing the sexual energy this shouldn’t be confused soley with Tantric Sex; Tantra was originally part of Buddism before it splintered off and shaped its only philosophy.
However, after a bit of asking around amongst the responses I get are – ‘Agama is a cult, the Swami is Sleazy and indeed everyone is having sex there, which sounds like a good thing but it isn’t.’
So after very little thought, I decide to hold back from putting myself in the firing line of some fat westerner, posing as a Guru trying to awaken my Kundalini. After all, I can get that for free on Had Rin beach on Full Moon Party night.
As I’m going nowhere in a hurry, I decide to upgrade my accommodation – sleeping on the floor of the dorm is all very well and good, but where’s a girl to put her shoes (that’s she doesn’t need to wear)?
Always one to romantically overlook practicality in favour of idealism, I opt for a bungalow right on the beach that has no fan, electricity and the shower could easily pass for a derelict greenhouse, simply because it has a cat on the porch. I’m not entirely sure why this was a selling point for me, because I’m allergic to cats but it seemed like a good idea at the time. However, after night one, with approximately zero hours sleep on account of the fact I’m just drifting off, the sea breeze cooling the air, when the cat and half a jungle zoo want to share my bed.
Un-amused, I flee the following morning and move into a cute little cottage style bungalow, that looks like it would be better placed on a prairie. It may not have a sea view, but I only have to share the bathroom with a couple of cockroaches who keep themselves to themselves, and get used to being greeted by a water buffalo when I stumble from my porch, yoga mat in tow at 8am every morning.
To be continued...
They gave me 24 hours to write an update or they’d shut me down. So here we are. One installment of several, to better educate you on my escapades in Koh Phangan.
This may take a while.
In my defense I have been living in the jungle for the past 3 weeks, although it feels more like 3 years and therefore, predictably, have had little access to the internet. In fact, I’m not even certain they know what it is there.
Frozen in indecision, once I arrived on Koh Phangan’s Had Thien I seemed incapable of leaving. I have since decided that the energy of the place that makes you feel like you’ve just clawed your way free of a Sunday afternoon laundry spin cycle in fact sends out some kind of jamming signal to your brain, rendering you completely useless.
I spent the best part of the intial week trying to decided whether to stick with my Ashtanga practice – and frankly, who wouldn’t want to when it had so much going for it – clambering the jungle trail, over rocks to the next secluded bay of Wae Nam, I get to Salute the Sun, etc. etc. on a platform set right into the cliff, with views across the Gulf of Thailand. Not only this, but I have not just one but two highly qualified teachers on hand to offer some (much needed) assistance, across a group of a mere dozen and before I know it I’m practically binding solo in my nemesis Marichyasana D and get Kurmasana and Supta Kurmasana added in to.
The alternative is to go to Agama, for a month long course in Tibetan Tantra. Whilst there is an element of harnessing the sexual energy this shouldn’t be confused soley with Tantric Sex; Tantra was originally part of Buddism before it splintered off and shaped its only philosophy.
However, after a bit of asking around amongst the responses I get are – ‘Agama is a cult, the Swami is Sleazy and indeed everyone is having sex there, which sounds like a good thing but it isn’t.’
So after very little thought, I decide to hold back from putting myself in the firing line of some fat westerner, posing as a Guru trying to awaken my Kundalini. After all, I can get that for free on Had Rin beach on Full Moon Party night.
As I’m going nowhere in a hurry, I decide to upgrade my accommodation – sleeping on the floor of the dorm is all very well and good, but where’s a girl to put her shoes (that’s she doesn’t need to wear)?
Always one to romantically overlook practicality in favour of idealism, I opt for a bungalow right on the beach that has no fan, electricity and the shower could easily pass for a derelict greenhouse, simply because it has a cat on the porch. I’m not entirely sure why this was a selling point for me, because I’m allergic to cats but it seemed like a good idea at the time. However, after night one, with approximately zero hours sleep on account of the fact I’m just drifting off, the sea breeze cooling the air, when the cat and half a jungle zoo want to share my bed.
Un-amused, I flee the following morning and move into a cute little cottage style bungalow, that looks like it would be better placed on a prairie. It may not have a sea view, but I only have to share the bathroom with a couple of cockroaches who keep themselves to themselves, and get used to being greeted by a water buffalo when I stumble from my porch, yoga mat in tow at 8am every morning.
To be continued...
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