06/04/09
8AM
“I would say, pack a small suitcase and a day pack and go from there.”
- Princeton in Asia orientation packet
Day of departure. In the car, Dad tells me a story of the time he fell down a well and almost died as a young child. He says that he had forgotten all about it until the previous night, when he vividly re-lived the event in a dream. Mom says it may be a premonition of ill fortune for me in Thailand. I think it was a premonition of ill fortune for him, as he strained his back carrying my two extra large suitcases and 40L backpack to the car that morning.
A Little While Later
We typed the wrong address into the GPS. Mass Asian confusion on DC 1st street.
10AM
Finally settled in the bus and moving along towards New York. Met a fascinating elderly lady on the bus, and ended up chatting the entire ride there, save for a 20 min post-turkey-sandwich power nap in Jersey. (Tryptophan remains a greatest enemy to hardcore adventuring). The woman’s name is Phyllis and she was heading home after attending a grandson’s graduation in DC. She is 85 but looked 65, and her speeches were timeless. A staunch liberal with her withered finger still on the pulse of global politics and pop culture, she is an undeniable New York gal who splits her time between Broadway, the Met and in the company of old friends and neighbors. I wanted nothing more than to be like her when I reached that age. She told me that her secret was her diet for the last 30 years- a slice of toast and coffee in the morning, chicken or fish for lunch and a small piece of fruit for dinner. I realized I would never be like her. Although spunky, references to old actresses and the tendency to use “darling” as an adjective rather than a noun placed her firmly in a distant and exotic generation. Furthermore, she had the stamp of many an American woman who had come of age and married in the 50’s- her talk almost always returned to the topics of marriage, promiscuity and sex. She deeply believed in the virtues of a good reputation, and constantly reminded me not to “sell myself too cheaply.” At this point, mostly because of my need to be contradictory, I decided to shpeal about my generation’s sexual liberation. Martin once told me that he found Americans to be strangely obsessed with loudly asserting our freedom, whether through speech, roadside signs or 3 for $10 T-shirts. I told him to go to freezing Norwegian hell, so I hope he does not read this. Although whether American women are truly sexually free is debatable, especially during college, there is no doubt that many of us are quick to brazenly advertise our liberation. Therefore, to her warning against men who “drink the milk without buying the cow,” I haughtily retorted that today’s women are no longer selling their cows. Phyllis looked at me as if I had spoken Chinese. Or taken a metaphor too far. Anyways, we moved on.
Later, she asked if I was married. I told her no, to which she annoyingly replied,” Don’t fret, he will come.” Annoying, mostly because it made me smile.
6 PM
Ride from New York to Newark was pretty uneventful; spent it gloating about how easy it was to find a trolley to take my ocean of luggage from one bus to another. Waiting waiting waiting.
10 PM
TRAGEDY! Plane to Stockholm delayed 5 hours due to mechanical failure. I am now in the 17th hour of travel. Waiting at Newark airport with Megan, a fellow Chiang Rai fellow, James, Megan’s fellow Princeton fellow (going to Southern Thailand) and a team of Harvard researchers heading to Borneo. With all our heads combined, we are still unable to complete the Times crossword and 6 row Ken Ken. We retain our sense of self importance by speculating what the headline in the Times would read if the mechanical failure had not been detected. 6 HARVARD STUDENTS!!!!!, 2 Princeton Grads!, and Everyone Else (including a Dukie) LOST IN TRAGIC CRASH.
1 AM
“Penn, for example” (52 Across) is not “IVIES.”
