I walked across the border, a confusing frontier, from Thailand to Malaysia and now sit at a train station – so alone – waiting to be whisked southwards – deliberately ignoring any detail, plan or expectation. Drifting, floating, swept away to elsewhere, savouring deliberate pages while stroking my beard with Viking oil.
Now in Penang, Malaysia… i came to there by a train to Butterworth (sadly devoid of pancakes), lurched by my boots aboard a ferry (which missed you mostly but i snapped the van Gogh green ceiling of metal paint), then wandered to a colonial outpost — now a mix ethnicities and religions – skipped the temples and went to a dusty stationery store to acquire dried-out stamps with barely useful phrases, watercolour paper, scissors / glue, envelopes and and stamps / all so sumptuous.
Post office frolic and then early morning to Bangkok then to Kathmandu! Dream of my youth when in a tent reading exploits of mountaineers and Sherpa tigers and Yeti.
Now in a vast room with a balcony and yellow walls, i transcribe from journals so i can mail them elsewhere (though i do plan to return, i am not committed to t he plan) and lighten load (i am carrying 4 notebooks at this point).
Listening to Jerry Garcia and only missing one thing. No, i have tea so that’s not it. Guesses?