On our backs we carry our things. They are the only things we have and we depend on them every day, all day. Some of them are barely more than necessary burdens, while others are a joy to hold, use and rely on. So far our towels are the two things that are just barely hanging on. They're heavy, they don't dry out very well, most places we stay provide towels at no charge, but every now and then the towels we carry have been so essential that we hesitate to toss them aside. As we get deeper in the rustic world of Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam they will be truly put to the test. Either they will save our lives again, or they will vanish.
The videocamera is definitely a burden, but it is one I love to no end. I never leave it out of sight. I carry it in the drysack, in my backpack every day, all day and every time we go out at night. I was able to leave it at our friend Jeanne's place in the evenings in Bangkok, which was nice, but leaving it behind in a guest room anywhere else seems utterly foolish to me. The iPods stay in the camera case, too, because I refuse to let them sit in the room where they could easily be stolen. The iPods save our life every single morning because the noise in every single city, town or village we've been to is absolutely unreal. 7am, every day, the hammering, sawing and banging begins. I believe that the Thais love to hammer just as much as they love to smile, sweep, eat and sell things. The iPods give us an extra few hours of sleep in the morning, and saved our sanity on the lengthy bus and train rides north.
The first aid kit has been opened many, many times. Lu has blisters. I have a toenail I slammed at Burning Man that is still flapping along, dying in stages. Pepto tablets have helped with some food issues I've been having recently, and the bandaids cover the scratches we received dumping hard as we pulled onto the shore in a kayak in Tonsai. The people watching it happen didn't even blink, but if any of you had been there you would have howled in laughter at the spin-dump-crush move we pulled. It was awesome.
I love my Leatherman Multi-tool. If not for the Leatherman, climbing would have never happened. For the last few months Lu has not been able to remove her engagement ring. But we weren't allowed to climb if we had any rings on our fingers. They were worried that a ring could get caught in a rock, and, well, I'll just let you imagine the rest. Luckily the Leatherman was in my daypack, as it always is, and we finally got that ring off with a little help from the pliers.
Headlamps were the only thing that let us get back from Raylay East to Tonsai Beach in the dark over the top through the jungle route. After our snorkel trip the tide was all the way in, so the easy way back was neck-deep in water and pitch black.
We've made a few purchases here, and all of them are great: a digital clock that's built into a clip I attach to a belt-loop, a sarong for each of us, and extremely light and comfortable fisherman pants. The sarongs are awesome and have just about replaced the towels. We use them as blankets on the bus, things to lay on at the beach and even as simple sheets when sleeping.
We brought from home silk sleeping bag inserts and they are perfect for the nights. Light enough to breathe, but a nice cover against the breeze of the fan. Obviously our rain-coats have been useful, but luckily it only seems to rain for a little while every now and then and really has not stopped us from having a ton of fun.
But talking about the rain brings up one part of the trip that has been somewhat difficult, and that is that all of our stuff is moist. It's much better now than it was 2 weeks ago, but even up here the rain and humidity makes everything we have slightly damp. Back at the beach it was more than just damp. Us and all of our things were soaked, endlessly. Woke up sweaty, walked through town in a warm drizzle, went swimming, dried briefly in the sun before evening rolled in and the humid night descended. We've used the laundry services many times, but in Tonsai even the laundry couldn't completely remove the slight mildew scent of moist, used clothes. Finally in Bangkok we dried out completely and got everything cleaned, fresh and new, before hitting the road again. Right now clothes are being laundered and we're hopeful that they will smell clean and delicious when we pick them up tomorrow.
The things we carry on our backs have allowed us to have all the fun we have had. We couldn't do this without their help. I've only scratched the surface of what we use and carry. It feels really good to be totally self-sufficient. To have what we need to do what we want. The pouch around our waists that hides our passport and money, and then the other one we also wear with the few bhat we need ready at a moment's notice. The hated bug repellent with 28% deet that without we would be a mass of itchy bites. Flipflops and Crocs. The Thailand book we consult eight-seven times a day. Our sunglasses (lost my first pair in Tonsai, now I have 2 pairs, the everyday one and the backup). Journals, safety pins, the Camelbak day packs that are endlessly fascinating to the locals.
I keep a running tally of what I use most, what I love best, what I hate most, what I only put up with and what is an utter luxury. Right now it's time to go revel in an utter luxury. I never begrudge the weight of the books I carry. I could get by without them, but their presence, what they contain, bring me almost as much joy as the amazing sights we see every day. Of the needed things, though, there is one item that stands far above the rest: wet naps. We brought 4 bags of them, we're down to two, have not seen them for sale anywhere and have begun a careful, careful rationing process. Each batch is now cut in two, and if we can make it to the end with even one wetnap for the plane ride home, then we will truly be traveler heros.
The videocamera is definitely a burden, but it is one I love to no end. I never leave it out of sight. I carry it in the drysack, in my backpack every day, all day and every time we go out at night. I was able to leave it at our friend Jeanne's place in the evenings in Bangkok, which was nice, but leaving it behind in a guest room anywhere else seems utterly foolish to me. The iPods stay in the camera case, too, because I refuse to let them sit in the room where they could easily be stolen. The iPods save our life every single morning because the noise in every single city, town or village we've been to is absolutely unreal. 7am, every day, the hammering, sawing and banging begins. I believe that the Thais love to hammer just as much as they love to smile, sweep, eat and sell things. The iPods give us an extra few hours of sleep in the morning, and saved our sanity on the lengthy bus and train rides north.
The first aid kit has been opened many, many times. Lu has blisters. I have a toenail I slammed at Burning Man that is still flapping along, dying in stages. Pepto tablets have helped with some food issues I've been having recently, and the bandaids cover the scratches we received dumping hard as we pulled onto the shore in a kayak in Tonsai. The people watching it happen didn't even blink, but if any of you had been there you would have howled in laughter at the spin-dump-crush move we pulled. It was awesome.
I love my Leatherman Multi-tool. If not for the Leatherman, climbing would have never happened. For the last few months Lu has not been able to remove her engagement ring. But we weren't allowed to climb if we had any rings on our fingers. They were worried that a ring could get caught in a rock, and, well, I'll just let you imagine the rest. Luckily the Leatherman was in my daypack, as it always is, and we finally got that ring off with a little help from the pliers.
Headlamps were the only thing that let us get back from Raylay East to Tonsai Beach in the dark over the top through the jungle route. After our snorkel trip the tide was all the way in, so the easy way back was neck-deep in water and pitch black.
We've made a few purchases here, and all of them are great: a digital clock that's built into a clip I attach to a belt-loop, a sarong for each of us, and extremely light and comfortable fisherman pants. The sarongs are awesome and have just about replaced the towels. We use them as blankets on the bus, things to lay on at the beach and even as simple sheets when sleeping.
We brought from home silk sleeping bag inserts and they are perfect for the nights. Light enough to breathe, but a nice cover against the breeze of the fan. Obviously our rain-coats have been useful, but luckily it only seems to rain for a little while every now and then and really has not stopped us from having a ton of fun.
But talking about the rain brings up one part of the trip that has been somewhat difficult, and that is that all of our stuff is moist. It's much better now than it was 2 weeks ago, but even up here the rain and humidity makes everything we have slightly damp. Back at the beach it was more than just damp. Us and all of our things were soaked, endlessly. Woke up sweaty, walked through town in a warm drizzle, went swimming, dried briefly in the sun before evening rolled in and the humid night descended. We've used the laundry services many times, but in Tonsai even the laundry couldn't completely remove the slight mildew scent of moist, used clothes. Finally in Bangkok we dried out completely and got everything cleaned, fresh and new, before hitting the road again. Right now clothes are being laundered and we're hopeful that they will smell clean and delicious when we pick them up tomorrow.
The things we carry on our backs have allowed us to have all the fun we have had. We couldn't do this without their help. I've only scratched the surface of what we use and carry. It feels really good to be totally self-sufficient. To have what we need to do what we want. The pouch around our waists that hides our passport and money, and then the other one we also wear with the few bhat we need ready at a moment's notice. The hated bug repellent with 28% deet that without we would be a mass of itchy bites. Flipflops and Crocs. The Thailand book we consult eight-seven times a day. Our sunglasses (lost my first pair in Tonsai, now I have 2 pairs, the everyday one and the backup). Journals, safety pins, the Camelbak day packs that are endlessly fascinating to the locals.
I keep a running tally of what I use most, what I love best, what I hate most, what I only put up with and what is an utter luxury. Right now it's time to go revel in an utter luxury. I never begrudge the weight of the books I carry. I could get by without them, but their presence, what they contain, bring me almost as much joy as the amazing sights we see every day. Of the needed things, though, there is one item that stands far above the rest: wet naps. We brought 4 bags of them, we're down to two, have not seen them for sale anywhere and have begun a careful, careful rationing process. Each batch is now cut in two, and if we can make it to the end with even one wetnap for the plane ride home, then we will truly be traveler heros.
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