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Nothing left to say but goodbye!

THAILAND | Monday, 5 March 2007 | Views [2207]

Yes Mum, that is only a cigarette. Er, wait, no it isn't! That's a filthy habit. It's, um... chocolate.

Yes Mum, that is only a cigarette. Er, wait, no it isn't! That's a filthy habit. It's, um... chocolate.

I have said good bye to Steph for now, but not forever, and broke my heart in the process; AGAIN. It's interesting how quickly you can get accustomed to constant companionship, and then even quicker, you seem to find yourself alone and pining for their now absent presence. I have decided that Tori Amos is my new guru of heartache, confusion and flashing your privates in public. The words of her song creatively titled 'Love song' often echo from the depths of my mind most susceptible to the pleas of my heart.

I recall other significant songs that defined important moments in my life and realise we love, lose, then love again. Our heart gets bigger to make more wall space for the beautiful memories we cling to as compensation for times unrelenting passage. I have said before to others that I will always love them. And I will. A part of my heart, the part I built post break-up to make space for the snapshots of our love, still adores them. Some may be in a dark and rarely visited corner of my heart, but the strength of that declaration ensures the sentiment survives as long as my heart keeps beating.

Each time the heart breaks, these old pieces are gathered together to be forged into a new one. Reinvigorated by the blood of new life, these cherished relics take on new meaning proportionate to the comparative duration and intensity of the most recent 'soul adventurer'.

As sorrow grips me I think of the email I received a few days previous from my traveling companion from my first Asian trip 7 years ago. Tiffany is now happily living in New York with husband, child and imminent addition. Just knowing for the first time in 2 years that she's doing okay awoke me to the fact that all who come and go, leave different scars and sweet memories. All grief for one echoes the grief that was felt before. Each successive love gets better for the same reason, as it broadens the capacity for love that was felt before.

Tears flood freely for the loss of Steph, but a smile shines underneath as I take solace from how fondly I remember all who came before her. As I said in a previous post, "life is beautiful", but love truly is what makes it all worthwhile! Goodbye and good luck Steph. It was utterly amazing. And a very special hello to all those I have loved and lost before. You and your beautiful memories are never more than a song, glass of red or photograph away.

Enough philosophising and sentiment for now, as this journal was never intended to be so specific in its demographic. Airports are never fun, unless they mark the beginning of an exciting adventure, rather than its end. So, I will not say anything about that place other than the usual reference to the trip that took me teary-eyed away from there.

The shuttle bus driver did his damndest to make the situation intolerably worse for me by using the bus's accelerator like a kick drum. At least he comforted me by demonstrating I wasn't as abominable as him at keeping a beat. And he wasn't as bad as the taxi driver who took us out to the airport. In a part of the world that doesn't seem to have road rules, only rough guidelines, he managed to clock up speeds of 130km in an 80km zone. Indicators are a novelty, stop signs are loosely recommended courses of action and white lines are a waste of paint. The lack of seat belts in the taxi, meant that even though the car didn't have an accident, I nearly had one in the back seat.

Back in my room, I was thankful that being emotional is an extremely exhausting hobby. Not even the mornings coffee could keep me from passing out, even though it was so strong it could have made itself. A good nights sleep is best to anoint loves wounds, and I slept oblivious to the fact that I was lying in the crumpled sheets of our prematurely aborted love.

The next morning, I decided on a spot of breakfast as a way of lionizing the recently discovered ringworm taking up residence on my waist. I declined an offer of beer from a Korean whino on the stairway of my guest house, as 9am was a bit too early for me. I went to my fave veg eatery and took a seat. Guilt soon struck so I returned it to the restaurant and ordered food instead. The hoop latch on my necklace had loosened enough to fall off every time someone looked at me, and that it did when the waitress brought out my fried morning glory (water spinach). There must have been an attractive spot under the neighboring table where the blood stone rolled, because my chop sticks followed suit a few minutes later. Working myself up to a fine wobbly trying to get the undercut spinach to my mouth with a spoon, possibly the last thing I needed was to start choking. Some spinach had gotten wound around my tongue piercing and was caught just before the gag reflex. In went the fingers and out came a 6 inch string of greenery, much to the disgust and horror of all around me.

Fire, and lots of it, would seem like the only cure for my continual health issues, but water will suffice until a more serious condition presents itself. A friendly passing local thought their good deed for the day would be helping me perform a task I have done countless times before. Refilling a water bottle from a vending machine isn't really rocket science, but this lady's 'assistance' resulted in most of the water spraying all over me; much to her delight. The relief it afforded me from the heat and the satisfaction of providing someone with a laugh was more than enough compensation for my 1 baht loss (4 cents AUS).

As for the next stage of my trip, a few days will be spent in Bangkok tying up a few loose ends, which always equates to spending more money. Then a bus will take me to Siem Reip in Cambodia for a price so low, even a few rip offs along the way will still make it cheaper than going directly to Phnom Penh; my actual destination. As I am going to be in Siem Reip anyway, I could revisit the amazing temples of Angkor. Knowing it was part of Stephs original plan, and that meeting me removed it from her itinerary, it seems rude of me to go without her. Even more so when I am not that fussed either way. Adam and Gemma are currently in Phnom Penh so continuing the fun we have had together thus far is too good an option to pass up. A few days there then onto Sihanoukville to see out the trip with a bit more beach action, or more accurately, inaction.

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