House

There are a lot of things I'll miss about Pha Ngan. All the jungle sounds: The barking geckos, chirruping frogs, whistling birds, rustling palms, the bubbling sizzle of the coffee in my kitchen in the morning. I'll miss our kitchen. I'll miss being able to cook up a feast and have my friends over. We had a great barbecue last night. The weather threatened so we just met at the house and set the grill up on the balcony with us. Lamb chops, curry-marinated pork, beef and chicken marinated in ginger, garlic and soy, a spicy Lao dipping sauce, grilled onions, baked potatoes, and of course rice. coin is running out. More soon.

I cook for my friends all the time here. It's nice having a brief window of domsticity for a couple of weeks.

I'll miss the wind rushing over my skin as I cruise through the hills on my motorbike. I'll miss my bike, my turquoise Honda Sonic 125, and the freedom it affords. I'll miss the sun fading into the fog over the islands as the squid fleet turns on their blazing white floodlights. They make it look like there is a row of stadia out on the horizon. I'll miss my cozy house where Sven and I lounge in our sarongs in the morning, or in our hammocks on the balcony when the air is too hot to breathe. I'll even miss the sweat. I'm done with cold climates. For the moment.