parties, poops and pals!

Last night we did the club party dance thing. Apparently, allegedly, "slippers" which are sandals, are not kosher disco wear. We had to buy sneakers on the street! I got some turquouise ones that look remotely like those chuck all-star ones for 190 Baht, not the greatest deal but we had no choice! It spent all the last of our money so the German guys we met at one place bought us a drink. We had lunch with them just now actually. They are a rock-climbing duo and had much to talk to Kyle about in that regard, and I of course had about a thousand questions for them regarding sausages and kraut. It was a sensational meal to say the least.

OH! How can I even continue without first paying regard to the fact that today is the Queen's Birthday! Long live Queen Siriskit or some such name. There are flower displays all over the city, every city, but Bangkok especially goes to town so to speak, as well as enormous, billboard sized photographs of her on every corner, surrounded by elaborate shrines. She was a fox in her day, but current photos, which are obviously much rarer, reveal her to be a swollen fat-lipped dough-boy, but in the most endearing way. She is a beloved monarch here. They all are. In years past there have been fireworks displays and the like, but this year will unfortunately be more tame because of budget cuts. There are colors for days of the week, and this day is blue, and we must wear it to celebrate her.

OH! How can I have gotten so far without introducing this gratifying development, this joyful nugget so to speak: I pooed a solid poo this morning! I think my delicate, song-bird system may be developoing a few resistances to the parasites at last! It's an especial treat and surprise because I've started regularly drinking the tap water here. Because it's free!

Also, we've realized that we spend our money and conserve it somewhat erratically. It's just hard to be logical when there's sweet and savory oil flirting down your nose at every turn, especially when you're feeling like you've paid your thrifty dues on the 8 mile walk to avoid paying a dollar for a tuk-tuk, or you slept in the hostel with the bugs. We went a bit crazy at the night market for instance a couple of nights ago, sampling a dozen fried and skewered items, smoothies and each our own sampler tray of donut sweeties. Kyle also bought a scandalously low-cut V-neck and I myself a pair of striped shorties for a few hundred Baht.

We are deeply considering renting a motorcycle for the remainder of our tour, so we can see more and on our own time maybe. Originally we thought it might be cheaper, but if you take shorter, non-sleeper trains around, it's very cheap, and busses we've heard are luxurious and also very reasonable. So now it's more the fun of it that allures us. We would be giving up ever getting a free place to sleep though. And it might be annoying with the bags and all. But also, come on, yes. Yes.

I've also been thinking about who will play each of us in the film or stage adaptation of our journey, and for myself I've narrowed it down to Oprah Winfrey or Reba McEntire. Kyle's a bit tougher, but I'm pretty dead set on Rosie O'Donnel or Rosanne Barr. And if we can't get either of them, then Cameron Diaz.

Kyle and I have negotiated through a lot of our tension-making 2 domineering personalities clash-collision issues, and a sense of jokefulness and wonder had returned to our experience. That, along with my pristine bottom and the all-you-can-eat buffet of pudding-faced queen images is making for a real turnaround in trip morale. But honestly it was never that bad. I just felt sorry for Kyle. I thought the poor fellow might be a chronic depressive (hence Cameron Diaz). He cries himself to sleep every night!

And! He criticizes my luscious singing. Ridiculous!

I had my first slightly unsatisfying (disgusting?) meal yesterday, too. It was an omelet the size of a dinner plate and an inch thick, but by my best estimate the chef managed the thing with only one, possibly premature, quail egg. Somehow (alchemy I say!) they had whipped the tiny bit of egg fluid into a mad froth and then spritzed it into a fryer, thus creating a loose matrix of oil, with bits of thin, cotton-candy crunchy oily brown oil-egg matter suspended throughout, the likes of which I had never seen before. I don't know if this description is even doing it justice. The only thing I can compare the experience to, so someone like Alex might understand if he's reading this, would be drinking a pitcher of gravy. And funnily enough, my saucy brunch was washed down with what the menu proudly called "Orange Juice (lemonade)" but which was, although an enticing orange-sherbet color, actually a salty, meaty pudding drink. Gravy!

The drink I finished. The omelet I only almost finished. Bon appetit!

All the food here is oily though. You get used to it. Actually, you love it. I have maybe a dozen new little pimples around my mouth and chin each night. Who could ask for anything more?