On the Road Again

[Above photo: Snowy Maine, near Moosehead Lake. More specifically, the outflow from Roach Pond #2.]

26 March 2023

I want to note that March 23 was a palindrome: 3.23.23.  Take that, sleepy grammarians! We like to talk about Bill Gates and Edwin Land and others dropping out of elite colleges in their early years and moving on to great success. Let’s not forget that the lad who first started the Oxford English Dictionary was 14yo when he dropped out of school. He collected massive amounts of information, storing it in a shed on his parent’s property, which he named the Scriptorium. I vaguely recall reading Simon Winchester’s fascinating book about it some years ago; even “fascinating books” stay accessible in my brain’s filing system only so long. The OED father’s name escapes me, even though I read it 2 days ago in the Times! Names are a real challenge after 80. Ha, for me after 60— or possibly 30!

I’m happily en route to Chiang Mai. The first leg of the journey was ill-fated. Today is Sunday. Saturday at 6:45AM I received a call: “This 57 Moody Street? Portland taxi outside.” “I’m sorry, it is for 6:45AM on Sunday.” Silence. Then, “I’ll have to talk with the dispatcher about that.”  This morning at 6:45 I called to learn he’d be “5 minutes late, if that.” At 6:55 I called again, “I’m sorry. It should be in about 10 minutes. We only have two cabs this morning.” “I have a bus to Logan for an international flight.” “When’s your bus leave?”  You get the gist. 25’ late he arrived, pretty silent. When my steam cooled we had a nice chat about how polite Maine drivers are. 

The bus was quite full. I sat next to a sweet guy, a senior from Bowdoin, who was carrying a large tube. “I’m going to the American Chemical Society meeting in Indianapolis to present a poster.” He’s from north of Minneapolis, a chem/physics major who is doing research on photo-sensitive chemicals that become acidic when exposed to light. He had that earnest, honest, direct but mildly self-effacing way of many Midwesterners. Not self-effacing, actually, just not tooting his own horn as is so common in educated coastal circles. Concord Coachlines gets my applause with a non-stop from Portland to the Boston airport, which has many more flight options than where I live; 1 1/2 hours of smooth, stressless travel for $29.

I, finally,— after getting scammed out of $140 (which was taken in Brazilian reales) by my entering a phony website—got my TSA precheck. It is worth all the 7800 pennies it cost!! As well as the $140, which I may get back. I slipped through security at Logan, having to remove only my Uniqlo down jacket. Why are you wearing that to Thailand, where a cold day is 78F, you ask? Because it was still in the 30’s here in the early morning when I left. Besides, this is light, compacts to nothing, and will be a handy pillow on the plane. Imagine hauling a pea coat around Thailand!  If people have the chutzpah to scam off of Homeland Security—not just Visa or PayPal—not much is safe. Especially for we gullible, internet-naïve elders. This is the second credit card I’ve had to replace in 6 months. Rather than send this from an unsecured wi-fi network in the airport, even with a VPN, I’ll wait until I get to my hotel in Bangkok.

I am very excited to be off. When I accept a large teaching assignment, I always imagine I’ll be found lacking but it generally is the opposite. Many years of psychoanalysis didn’t alter that, although at least I can anticipate my worries, step back, and know that it is a figment of my early introjects.

I’m going to find a bite to eat as it says Korean Airlines serves only supper on the plane and there is a bao place somewhere in the airport. It’s only 11AM but I had breakfast at 6, so I’m hungry again.

2 days later

Incheon International Airport in Seoul is ultra modern and IMMENSE. The exercise negotiating it would be welcome except that I had a tight connection—my Bangkok-bound plane would board 35 minutes after my plane from Boston landed. As Fate played her cards, the Boston plane couldn’t find a gate at which to discharge us and we sat on the tarmac for 40 minutes. Then Incheon’s size became a true obstacle, as Gate 242 was miles away. And all the food that Korean Airlines had filled me with over 15 hours—many meals and snacks and I skipped the last meal entirely—was creating a certain urgency in my nether parts. And I’m thinking my bags will never get transferred and I’ll have to arrange them to be delivered the following day. I trotted—cannot honestly say I ran—for what seemed like forever.

It all worked out, as the plane to Bangkok departed 1 ½ hours late! Hurry up and wait! I got to bed at 3AM, was wired and read until 4. The Path to Power, Caro’s account of Lyndon Johnson’s start in the Hill Country of Texas is gripping, even at that hour.  

Bangkok feels much as I left it, 2 years ago.  The third 7-11 I walked to from my hotel had SIM cards but it was a challenge to sort and have it installed. It is surprising how much “Hotspot” sounds like “Passport” when filtered through a Thai accent and my presbycousis, repeatedly.  The street markets have papayas and guava but I see no durian, mango, or passion fruit. Two of my 3 friends who live here are away and I’m awaiting an email response from the third for supper together tonight. I’m off to Chiang Mai tomorrow evening. My hotel, Villa Phra Sumen—now known as Villa Bangkok—, is attractive and quiet, with a tree- and plant-filled courtyard in back and a small pool.  People are lying around in the sun. For it is warm and sunny, a tropical warmth that gets into you just as the Maine cold chills your bones. It’s nice to be back.

Despite my kvetching about the inconveniences of the trip, it is pretty miraculous. At least 50% of those embarking on such a journey 200 years ago wouldn’t be expected ever to be seen again: wild storms, contagion, tropical diseases, scurvy, hostile crew or natives, poor navigation, and so forth. Imagine travelling north from Boston, over Hudson’s Bay, traversing northern Canada and southern Alaska, south along the east coast of Kamchatka Island, crossing north over Honshu Island to Incheon. Then 5 hours more, mostly over eastern China. All in less than 24 hours. Given all the ramifications of air travel, including its immense carbon footprint, I’m unsure if it is a good thing or not. But it is something.

The man, as his niece said, is very dangerous. As he feels cornered, he focuses on violence and links his troubles to his minions: “That Bragg is an animal! But they are really after you—you better believe it. All these guys—the FBI, the Justice Department—-they are the most corrupt government ever known in the history of man. ” [Not that he’s the most corrupt ex-president ever known in the history of this country.]  And, “We don’t have to fear Russia or China; the biggest danger to us is our government. The corruption is of a scale never seen before.” And so forth. Sounds like a little projection to me. Better known in the trade as the old bob and weave.