everyday banality 1

When left to my own devices I’ll eventually drift into going to bed in the early morning and waking up in the late morning or early afternoon. In the three weeks between Skagway, where I often had to wake up as early as 0300, and coming to Chiang Mai I managed to return to my primal state. This turned out to be convenient: my internal clock was well in line for getting up at an allegedly reasonable hour once on Thai time, and I didn’t struggle with jet lag. For my first week or two I was awake by 0700, down to breakfast by 0800, out on the streets stumbling around by 1000. I’d walk around all day, grab lunch someplace, then probably have dinner at the guest house. So I was a Presence. But in time I adjusted to local time and became more like myself: out of bed by 1000, eating an idle breakfast of fruit I bought in some street market before heading straight out the door. Lunch at whatever place I happened to be near a few hours later, stumbling in the door to the guest house a few hours after that in a state of just wanting to take of all my clothes and sprawl grotesque in front of the air conditioner combing out my beard or something. By the time I’m hungry again the kitchen is closed and I’m out on the street once more.

So they don’t see much of me anymore. If I wake up really late or am just particularly hungry I’ll eat lunch downstairs before hitting the pavement, but that’s about it. I don’t do much overtly touristy stuff so I don’t harass them about the tours I can get in the lobby. Recently I was up at 0800 for some reason and decided to go down to grab a pancake and Dang, the woman who manages the place, remarked on how surprised they were to see me. I said something like “well, try not to get used to it.” This netted me a quizzical look. I tried “Don’t worry I’ll try not to make a habit of it?”

She said no, it’s OK, they’re just surprised.

Ms. Dang and I’s interactions are usually a bit awkward, because I can’t quite convince myself to not be sarcastic 75% of the time and she is typically Thai, which means this doesn’t fly 90% of the time.

Yesterday, as noted prior, I managed to make it out to the northeast corner of the old city. I didn’t feel too bad so I made a loop, bought a pomelo, and came back to the guest house. Maybe a 1.5 km walk, and by the time it was over I felt dizzy and feverish. So I settled in to a day of idleness, eating minimally, drinking a metric ton of water, eventually constructing this thing from pure patterns of thoughtbeard. I did not leave my room until late this morning when, still feeling vaguely ill in a “this is obnoxious but probably nothing to get worked up over if it hasn’t escalated yet” kind of way, I went downstairs to try some soup.

Ms. Dang asked me how I was feeling. I told her. She said: Oh… you have fever?
I said I didn’t think so, not now.
She said: Maybe you just need exercise.
I said maybe, but I doubted that was the case.
She said: No, exercise. You get exercise you feel much better. You walk.
I told her about having trouble walking less than 2 km yesterday.
She said: You’re just not used to it. You get more exercise, you feel better.
So apparently if you make a habit of leaving the place after noon you can’t possibly be walking enough, even if you’re regularly gone for five hours and come back with your shirt soaked in sweat.
I said alright Dang, I’ll try.


~ by ironcupshrug on 11/23/2009.

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