Stuck In Old Siam Again

Every now and again you have a moment when all seems right and yet you’re a million miles away from home. I had one of those moments this weekend. First, Mother Nature turned the wind around and a cooler, dryer air fell on Bangkok. Instead of the usual 90/90 – 90 degrees and 90% humidity – the temperature was in the low 80s and it was dry as a newly diapered baby. Comfortable is probably the best way to describe it without the metaphors on steroids.

When you’re in a new city and after you’ve visited all the Fodor’s recommended tourist sites, you begin to look for the things that feel more natural to you. Essentially, you look for California. I don’t care how you feel about low-calorie restaurants, but there are very few Americans that don’t eventually wander into a McDonalds or a Pizza Hut after too many weeks in a foreign place (although I can say that Peasey and I have yet to dine at either one, which is not to say we’re eating low-calorie meals either).

We decided a movie indoors was a good way to spend the best weather we’ve had yet in Bangkok. The movie theaters in the city center are attached to malls that are generally about three times bigger than the average mall in the U.S. Frankly I don’t know where all the people are who can afford Hugo Boss, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Armani and others, but those shops are everywhere you turn. The theater we went to was on the seventh floor of the mall and had 16 screens. The ticket price was about $17 and judging from the number of people in line to buy a seat, the price didn’t keep the crowds away.

We saw the Bourne Legacy and were told it was in 4D. Neither Peasey nor I knew what 4D was and so we expected to be handed glasses. Shoot, Peasey’s unsure what dimension she’s in now! 4D does not, as it turns out, involve glasses. It’s more like a ride at Universal Studios or a Disney theme park. The seats move with the movie. When there is a car chase, the seats roll back and forth to give the sensation you’re in the chase. When something splashes, water shoots in your face (I’m not kidding). When someone got shot in the head, our seats jolted back. I’m not sure it made us feel as though we were in the movie, but it did keep us involved. I was only hoping there would be a sex scene to see what 4D had to offer in that area.

Aside from the 4D, if I closed my eyes just enough, it was easy to believe I was in a theater in the U.S. Even in the mall, you feel more like you're home as long as the mall in your home was in Chinatown.

Eventually we had to go back to our hotel and, when it wants, a stark reality will always find its way to slap you upside your head. You’re not home. You’re still miles from your comfort zone and seemingly further from the people your heart aches for. The Boy launched a video site to share movies of LivyBear (that’s your Lazlo’s Lament name, Livy, get used to it). He blended beautiful images of his perfect family with music and creative editing and it had me crying from the first frame. The cry was equally from the scenes of the video and from the fact I’m not there in person to see the three of them growing as a young family.

Those of us on the Road always say it’s just for a few weeks or sometimes longer. What’s three weeks in a lifetime, right? But three weeks in the life of an eight-month-old is missing her saying a new word, missing her stand up on her own, missing her sliding around on the floor and threatening to crawl. It’s even missing her grow intellectually as she reasons her way around now. Ask any grandparent if it’s OK being away from a grandchild for three weeks and they may drop their Ensure and flip you the bird.

But does the three-week away rule apply only to grandchildren? For me it doesn’t. Three weeks missed is still three weeks you can’t get back. And my three weeks is really more like six weeks because I was only home a short while. So my feelings of being lost and lonely led me to stewing about being so far from home and blaming others for me being gone. And if that doesn’t make sense to you, you’re not alone.

I keep thinking I’m grown up, but I’m not. For all the bluster of insisting I don't want my head and heart in two different places, the alluring draw of economics and adventure have separated the two far too often. And no matter how much I hold my breath and stomp my feet and shout loudly about it, my life still tends to be lived from a distance. I think it was Shakespeare who said "Hey... life is pretty stupid; with lots of hubbub to keep you busy, but really not amounting to much." Of course I'm paraphrasing: "Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." I wonder sometimes if I’m that idiot.