I don't think I ever get my point across.
I've found out something others doesn't seem to know. Meeting so many people on these trips, some of them happy, others not, but in the end it doesn't seem to matter. They're just ordinary. Good people, nice, knowledgeable in many ways, even emotional, but they lack something else. It's like they don't know about the true nature of the universe. Not the universal truth, but true experience when you're actually dying for something, when you get into things so deeply ordinary life starts to fade.
This leads me into my latest adventure.
It started with a pretty good feeling at the guest house in Chiang Mai. I'm used to be completely exhausted on these trips, I just can't sleep because I have too much to do and even more things to think about. It's the urgency of life calling me away.
I jumped on a bus and was introduced to a fellow traveler, looking like a korean but being from Canada. We talked about several things like adventure and security, meeting people and getting work on the way. And it started to dawn on me: Nobody I meet is like me, not with that kind on hidden urgency, longing for death and revival, longing for the moment where everything you know fades away.
It all became silent. I was put in the front seat of the mini-van and the night was transforming the road ahead of us. It was a feeling of lost memories, dreams of trekks in the vilderness as a young boy. Fillthy dogs could be seen close to the roads in villages, people walking around, blinded by the light of the mini-van.
It continued for five hours, the others had some sleep but I just couldn't put my eyes away. The road taking us to the north part of Thailand, on bumpy roads, closer to the Lao border.
We arrived at a nightmarish guest house in the small border town of Chiang Khong. It was completely dark, 01:00 A.M, and I was put into a room with a hard bed. Memories came back to me from discoveries in forgotten dreams. I had been there, I just knew it. It have happened many times during this trip. I remembered the stairs leading to the rooms above, the darkness of the room, the hard bed...
Then I saw a picture of the Thai king at the wall. Like a spiritual dictator, instructing me to go deeper into the dark. I didn't. I started to remember my chance encounters with a girl in Bangkok. Coincidences. Like she was getting up when I got up, late in the day, later going on the same bus as me, to the same destination at the same time. A mixture of eroticism and plain fright.
We met again in Chiang Mai. Looking like an angel, but much more neutral, a ghost of white, a learning experience to expand my intellect, but also something more. Let's just say she haunted me this night. We had a soul connection and much more.
When morning came it came too early. Breakfast. What a breakfast it was! Plain coffee, omelette and toasts, not just the breakfast but the view! It was the Mekong river before me in golden morning light. Mekong is the greatest river in south asia running from the himalayas, down to the ocean, going through thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. The sight: The river, the mountains surrounding Chiang Khong and palaces on the other side. Talked with a really pleasant australian couple and a guy running through the jungles of Thailand on a motorbike. It was so relaxed and such a contrast to the blackness of the night before. I was really there. My heart was in it. I was told about a special app for the android device, making it easier to navigate. The australian couple went for a walk with me on a pathway close to the river and we took pictures. The golden light was magical, we had a small talk, a sense of fulfillment. That's hell: What hell is, is really simple: It's were you have given up all security, even your life for the land beyond. You start to meet people, they say too many things. Keeping you on track, keeping you away from the angels of the past.
The complete opposite of god.
Then things got strange. I had been told I could walk around in the border town until 17:00 PM. So I just did as I was told. But when I got back to the guest house everybody was gone: No bus, no people, a lone woman telling me I had to use a tuk-tuk instead. The pickup had left with the others for the border! I was alone and put to my own devices. I thought I had to pay the double-price.
I just enjoyed it.
Nothing in the world gives me more pleasure than the feeling of going into a sense of danger. This was no real danger at all, but the situation: That I was wrong informed, that something scary actually could happen if something changed just a bit.
And this is the complete opposite to the world I left, the complete opposite to the people I've met. Security is the complete opposite to what I actually want to feel. And when I'm feeling it: The threat of a stranger, unknown lands, morbid thoughts, and the dark feeling of loosing myself, that's when I know I've made progress in my own evolution. That's how it was this day. And it continued the whole day and into the coming night.
Going on gravel roads on mountain slopes in the darkness of the Lao night.
Not knowing if the bus would loose it's breaks.
It was almost better than fucking.