I can see my parents wincing right now. Though as possibly ashamed or disappointed as they are, I bear no regrets nor feel I owe any apologies. For the record, and some small circles among you have the full story, nothing that happened was overly imprudent nor anything I would call deviant. What happened over the course of that week could make for a rather humorous montage in a movie that would easily pass for an R rating. Maybe, mom, I'll even tell you about it one day.Bangkok, highlighted by a few crazy nights, was also a place of some sobering goodbyes. On the 21st, Fergus and his buddy Joyce took an early morning flight to Kuala Lumpur where they will stay for a short time before moving on to Australia and New Zealand. Fergus made for a good friend on this trip. In the 2 months we traveled together we shared some amazing experiences, from the trek in Laos, to New Year's in Krabi, to the surreal week we just finished in Bangkok. As I type this, I am watching the Arsenal v. Man U game, and actually enjoying it! Becoming a soccer fan has perhaps been my most dramatic lifestyle transformation since I phased out underwear about 2 years ago. And I owe it all to Fergus. His seemingly endless supply of energy and his always timely and hilarious quips (which became known as Fergusisms), has made the just completed leg of this journey a breeze. And arriving just as he did, as Ryan was making his way home, made Fergus' presence all the more welcome. Agent Smith, too, has also left my company. A few days ago we met up with 2 girls from back home, Carly Norr and Julia Sakis, and for the next 2 months Ace will be escorting them through the larger part of Southeast Asia. They are currently side-stepping landmines in Cambodia.
One of the most unfortunate aspects of long-term travel, as this recent series of farewells has made clear, is its impermanence. What is true one day, is not true the next. Things that in our normal lives are taken for granted – friends, family, home, a quiet place to have a cup of good coffee and read the paper – when traveling are searched for and measured on a day to day basis and often completely lacking. I can only do my best to compensate for these things by accepting short-term facsimiles. This is partly what makes drinking so appealing. Alcohol, as you know, is probably the easiest way to bridge the gap between strangeness and familiarity. The person who at the beginning of a long night at the bar is at first a stranger, after enough drinks can be the best friend you've ever had. But these kinds of relationships, as we all know, comes with their own set of complications. Namely, the next day you're left with that hollowed out feeling and the same emptiness that lured you to the bar in the first place is perhaps even deeper and more crushing than before. As it was, first with Ryan, then with Ace and Fergus, I was able to hold on to some permanence, some stability, even among the whirlwinds of travel. I needn't seek out, or try to re-create, those pieces of home and we could each lean on each other to validate our experiences by sharing them with one another. And it was genuine. But now the dynamic has changed.
Knowing I would be striking out on my own at the end of January, I contemplated a few options. Burma, Malaysia, Indonesia, and China were all heavily considered. In the end I chose to return to Laos. It was here in Laos that I first fell in love with Southeast Asia back in November.
The geography of the country, landlocked between Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, and Burma, and taking shape along the banks of the Mekong River, is absolutely gorgeous. Seemingly endless expanses of lush and untouched jungle, the pulsating current of the Mekong, and giant limestone monoliths, all make this place a treasure of natural beauty. And the people here are beyond friendly. It is impossible to walk down the street here without being greeted by a big smile and a loud "sabai-dee". And still just entering into the tourism industry, opening its borders to tourists for the first time in 1997, the oft dehumanizing aspects of traveling are not nearly as apparent here as elsewhere in the region (we'll see how much this changes over the years; I'd like to believe there's something unique in the Laos character that will be able to resist the temptations of excessive commercialization, but the Laos people, too, are human after-all).But above all, what drew me back to Laos was work. I've shaved the beard, cut my hair, and I am now officially employed (actually unofficially – more on that later). As I've mentioned at least a few times, it was in Laos, in a small village called Veng Vieng, that I first learned how to, and fell in love with, rock climbing. And I'm back for more. Laos Rock Climbing Shop, owned and operated by Jun Sangthong, and staffed by his girlfriend, Na, and 2 younger brothers, Noi and Bun, is where I will be working for the next month (or more), teaching beginner's climbing lessons and helping out with the day-to-day operation of the shop.
Predictably, the pay is, well, non-existent, but I do get some compensation. For one, I get to climb as much as I want over the course of the next month. A few days a week, depending on the weather, we don't see any customers, and on those days I have the freedom to take whatever equipment I want and go off on my own or with one of the brothers and climb to my heart's content. Second, I get 3 square meals a day. In the morning we have coffee and soup, for lunch we usually have Laos sausages that we bring out to the crag with us, and for dinner Na will make a proper Laos style feast that we all sit around and eat together at Jun's house on the outskirts of the village. Another exciting thing is that in the 2nd week in February one of Jun's good friend's from Germany (he used to be married to a German woman) is coming to Veng Vieng with a rock drill. In the next 2 months about 30 new routes are planned to go up in the surrounding area and there's a good chance that I'll be able to bolt at least one of them myself. As climbing enthusiasts know, putting up your own route is a kind of immortalizing undertaking, both getting to name the route and getting authorial credit in future guidebooks. Before that happens though, I'll have to get significantly better at climbing. Lastly, and perhaps the most appealing aspect of working here at the climbing shop is that it provides a space for me to make a home (if a short-term one). The Sangthong family has already made me feel like one of their own. Jun has given me keys to his house and to the guide shop and has told me in no uncertain terms to treat his things as if they were my own. Veng Vieng, for its part, is an ideal place to spend an extended amount of time. 
There is a good coffee-shop/bakery that gets the Bangkok post every morning and several restaurants with big screen TV's that show DVD's and live sporting events. About a mile south of Veng Vieng is a cement factory where there are daily pickup basketball games played by the factory's onsite workers. The guesthouse I'm staying at is also a familiar place from my last visit here. In November I was thrown a surprise party on my 24th birthday by the family that runs the establishment. Unbeknownst to me, the woman at the reception desk, Connie, noticed on my passport that my birthday was going to take place during my stay here and she arranged for a party on my behalf. 
I was treated to a BBQ fish dinner, a birthday cake, and a bottle of homemade opium liquor from Connie's father. When I returned a few days ago, she didn't immediately recognize me as I had shaven my beard and cut my hair. After a moment of studying my face inquisitively she ran from behind the counter and greeted me with a big hug and immediately escorted me up to the same room I had stayed in before.Earlier in this post I did my best to impart how emotionally exhausting traveling can sometimes be, especially when you are on your own. The strain of dislocation, of transience, and what ultimately amounts to loneliness, gets compounded over time and can weigh heavily on what should otherwise be a thrilling thing. To come back to a place like Veng Vieng, where I can have at least some of the stability of home (a favorite restaurant for instance, or being on a first name basis with the owner of the local bookshop) while also experiencing all that comes with traveling in an exotic locale, is understandably alluring. Plus I get to climb. A lot.
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