Musing NYC (or, welcome home)

Hip Tits
I’m walking down Broadway, mesmerized.  I’m behind a group of four construction workers, all big, burly tough guys.  Tats, curses and hard hats.  But I’m mesmerized.  It was hypnotic, rhythmic.  Each step they took brought with it a jiggle of their hip tits.  Right foot, right hip-tit jiggle.  Left foot, left hip-tit jiggle.  Turn to the right, right hip-tit bounce, sway and jiggle.  Turn to the left, left hip-tip bounce, sway and jiggle.  I had the urge of reach out and cup a hip-tit., but decided it wasn’t worth the beat down that would be the price of admission.  Oh, and did I mention the quartet of butt cleavage.  Hip-tits and butt cleavage, makes sense when you think about it.  Don’t know if it will be dreams or nightmares tonight.

Fat Americans
We really are fat, we Americans.  Everyday I can’t help but notice that at least half the people I walk with, by and around are fat.  Don’t get upset, I could say overweight but let’s face it, they are fat.  Like the two attractive women that strolled by me in their form fitting, stylish dresses, warning do not ask them what month they are in or is it a boy or girl because you’ll be cursed out for not realizing that they are just plain old fat (but don’t dare say that either.)  In their defense, they were attractive … and fat.  Or, how about the man that stepped off the A train, his belly peeking through the door not only before his body but before his feet.  That can only be described as fat.  Then there was the tourist couple in their Bermuda shorts, dangling cameras and map in hand, out of breath after climbing from the street to the sidewalk, up that mountain of a NYC corner curb, all five inches of it.  These aren’t examples I’m hanging onto or cherry-picking, they are everyday sights.  Like the cute baby with three chins or the many pregnant American men.  And, of course, those construction workers with hip-tits and butt cleavage.  We really are fat, but sexy.

Pant, sweat, legs crossed, or How I almost shat myself as I wrestled with a public auto toilet
My heart was beginning to race, why didn’t I go in the diner.  I had my daily breakfast with friends, then decided to go to an early movie in Manhattan.  Halfway through the subway tunnel between Brooklyn and Manhattan my belly started to talk and bowels began to listen.  Time to sit with my legs crossed.  Good thing I’m only one stop from “The City.”  OK, I get to the theater in no time, no line, ticket purchased, up the escalator and in the bathroom — no problem, piece of cake.  Then the race begins.  Fella before me had full bladder and bad aim, have to cover the seat, no problem there are paper seat covers handy, piece of cake.  Now it gets complicated.  Seat covered, preparing to drop pants and assume the position and … flush … WTF … fucking auto toilet sucked my seat cover down the damn drain.  Pants hanging low, bowels knocking on the door, grab another seat cover, before I even flinch … flush .. mother fucker.  The seat is sticky-yellow, can’t just sit.  Grab another seat cover, throw it down, jump all in one move … flush … fuck, fuck, fuck!   This is war!!!!   Drop pants, turn, hover just above the seat, grab seat cover, in one lightening quick, graceful move place and sit together.  Just in time, ahhhhh, yessss.  Shit, fucking auto faucets…

Never a dull moment in the Big Apple.

You Can’t Make This Up — “Do you actually get tan?”

People make the journey in all sorts of ways.  Met these two very British chaps.  Conversation at one point goes like this:

Very British Chap #1:  Did you go to the beach at Hoi An?
Me:  Yes, I really enjoyed it.
Very British Chap #1:  Say, do you actually get tan?  You know you are awfully dark.
Me:  This isn’t my natural skin color, I’m quite tan after four months on the road.
Very British Chap #1:  Yes, but you are obviously of dark origin, and you say you get tan, do you need to put on lotion?  You don’t do you?
Me:  I should and if I don’t, such as very recently, I get burnt.
Very British Chap #1:  Do you really get burnt?  Oh, that surprises me.
Me:  (saying nothing, just in stunned disbelief I’m having this conversation but I’m calm and smiling)
Very British Chap #2:  Let’s say you spend the winter in London, where it isn’t very sunny especially in the winter you know.
Me:  Yes, let’s say that.
Very British Chap #2:  Would you get lighter, your skin I mean?
Me:  Of course, my tan fades just like anyone else.
Very British Chap #2:  But after your tan fades, will you continue to get lighter?
Me:  Do you mean beyond my natural skin color?
Very British Chap #2:  Yes, if you stay in a place like England, will you eventually get as light as me.
Me:  (I pause saying nothing for a few seconds, I’m absolutely astonished but you wouldn’t know it)
Me:  Ummm.  No, I will get back to my natural, baseline skin color.  If I’m really ill I can get lighter than my natural skin tone, as with everyone.
Very British Chap #2:  Very interesting.
Very British Chap #1:  Quite.

No, I’m not making that conversation up and I’m fairly sure the above is almost verbatim since I was so amazed by it.  It was like an outer-body experience, just hovering above listening and watching saying to myself, WTF!

It’s About Time

After four months on the road I have finally gotten around to writing my first blog post.  I thought of blogging about my journey before I left New York.  Problem was that I forgot to create a blog before I left and never got around to it after I left — minor detail.  As I am prone to “processing”, I have gone through whatever it was I was going through and have set-up this blog.  Now that I have started and committed (ouch) to sharing about this adventure here we go.

A quick summary of the last four months:  China (30 days), Hong Kong (3 days), Macau (1 day), Thailand (62 days), Laos (12 days), Vietnam (1 day), Singapore (14 days) and back to Vietnam.

I could describe each country but it’s simpler to say every step along the way has been better than imagined.  The sights, the sounds, the smells, the people, and the food, the food, the food.  Actually the people have been the most amazing part of the journey, the locals, the other travelers, the expats, and even the gap year swarm.

Please be patient as I refine the blog, find my voice and type ever so slowly with my two fingers.