Same Same but Different

As I predicted I am complete shit at keeping up with this blog.  So it goes.  It's hard to do anything here in the land of excess, "no drugs or illegal activities" plastered to the wall of every establishment.  Old white dudes parading around with young, beautiful Thai women; drunk Australians beating their fists on a makeshift bar in the street.  Chiang Mai is certainly different than the south, but debauchery is alive and well, my friends.  Marcelle and I have turned inward, happy in our own bubble of self awareness, letting the reality of our new lives wash over us fully.  An afternoon at Doi Suthep , the most sacred of temples in Chiang Mai, really hit home.  As we sat and discussed the 'whys' and 'whats' of life, Marcelle and I became simultaneously aware of everything, one of those moments where you just kind of forget yourself and just are.  I was mesmerized by the endless stream of devotees, circling the giant gold pagoda with flowers clasped perfectly in their praying hands, whispering prayers under their breath.  Marcelle and I laughed to see a monk take a photo with his cell phone camera, tattoos littering his body.  Still, Doi Suthep felt a bit like Disney with all the white folk milling around, looking for the best angle with their huge, expensive cameras.  The remedy to this Disney effect lies down a random side street in the Old City of Chiang Mai.  A wat that Marcelle and I stumbled into haphazardly just as a ceremony was beginning.  The wat itself was spectacular, a three parter with all the gold and shimmering fixings, complemented by a dilapidated stone temple that had collapsed during a terrible storm hundreds of years prior.  As we were making our circle around the temple, we heard chanting begin.  I was so excited at the sound of it.  We wandered to the front of the temple cautiously, knowing we weren't dressed appropriately to enter.  Lucky for us giant black coats sat at the front door, inviting us in.  Being in this temple with the monks chanting so perfectly--I get goosebumps just thinking about it.  I won't go so far as to say it was a spiritual moment for me, but shit, it was definitely something.  Like the feeling I got while listening to George Harrison's 'I dig love' on a ferry, looking at everyone's face, so fucking happy to be where they were (how corny, right?  I can't help myself though!).  Of course no day is complete without getting a bit fucked up, and sharing a joint with some cool dudes from California before hitting the sack was more than perfect.  I'll leave with the line I wrote last night before passing out:
"Slightly stoned, listening to Apple Scruffs.  and Fuck."

and fuck, indeed.