August of '26
It was inspired by a message from a reader. A complete stranger. Those are the best. Truly.
I could be time to assess. To take our temperature. Is this all working?
the initial reasoning for this blog was to replace my unseen and hidden journal of places I’ve traveled to. And to go further in the Russian Resting Doll theme, those writings were for the future me. In that reguard, nothing has changed, it is just public for family, friends and fellow travel minded people to follow along.
what started as a Word file tucked into a destroyable spot on my laptop that no longer exists to what it is today. Now, a combination of audio, video, writing all stored in the cloud for the world to see.
In the future, where years and years have passed, will Diane and I be sitting on two hand-carved rocking chairs in some location built for ancient people watch these videos and have someone read them to us, even maybe with a Thai accent? I truly cannot see that far into the future. Will there be ice cream that far in the future? Maybe not. In a just world, by that time it will have been replaced by gelato.
Proselytizing to the World:
We have found a good place to be and want others to be aware of it. I suppose most simply said “out of the country”. Specifically, the United States. No, this is not some anti-American diatribe. I just think it is just too expensive there and one should be aware that there are other options in the world.
I’ll be the first to admit it is comfortable back in the US. Friends, family and Taco Time restaurants. Your favorite collection of books lined up on a wall of your home. A basement full of things from your life are comforting. I get that for sure. How about the family cat? You love when the grandkids are brought over for a visit. Knowing where to park when going to a favorite restaurant for dinner. Talking about the Mariners to the checker at your local supermarket where you have shopped for more than a decade feels normal.
Money does come to mind. Everyone’s mind. Is moving out of the country a panacea to all of one’s financial woes? Simply put, no. If you have no money in savings or a 401k, your ex-wife ended up with the house and you are about to lose your job, well, don’t come to Thailand. Please. Here will not fix any of that. It will probably make it worse.
If you are settled, or close to it. Becoming an expat is worth some thought. If we never had left or decided to return we would be ok. We’d budget our spending, even maybe not return to our beloved hometown. But life would be good. We, as ever optimistic people we, are would be happy.
If we are to be poster ‘children’ for becoming expats we have to say “I just never think about money anymore.” Geez, that does seem like a ‘brag’, but it is all about where we have chosen where to live. There is complriomize. I cannot walk into my local super market and talk about the Mariners. Or even talk at all, other than being polite and have answers for simple questions.
We had to make preparations, and those had commitment built in. But with a backup. We retired. We sold the house. (we did keep the condo) We got a 10 by 20 storage unit. We packed our ‘stuff’. Our plan was to visit Thailand and Vietnam, then move on to Portegul, Italy and maybe Spain. Our first stop was Thailand. It fit; we didn’t leave.
The Seattle Series:
These are parts one and two of six featured in May’s blog.
These are parts three and four of six from June’s blog on the ongoing Seattle series.
NEW: These are parts five and six of the now completed Seattle series.
Or just read it below:
A Tale of Two Cities…
In travel, one does not go north, south, east, or west —we go forward. This is measured in time and inertia, not direction. We have returned home. I use the word ‘home’ loosely; I have long thought of home as where you keep your underwear. For us, that drawer is located in northern Thailand, in that country’s second-largest city, Chiang Mai—not Seattle.
Comparing these two cities is a study in contrast: Asian versus Caucasian; tropical versus temperate weather. On one side, the long-held ancient traditions of society; on the other, the rugged individualism of the West. One has never heard of ‘Taco Time’; the other embraces the crisp bean burrito, first dipped in sour cream, then dunked in hot sauce. * Historical note: this burrito retains its molten heat so long that settlers in the 1800s along the Pacific coast would use them to heat their cabins.
The Thai people I know would be shocked—first by the cost of… everything, then by societal rules such as walking into someone’s home without removing one’s shoes. Curling up on the couch with shoes on would be as unusual as seeing my father having fried fish for breakfast. Though, with the arrival of the digital age, the world is shrinking and becoming more homogeneous. I may be so bold as to say this is a detriment to the East. I’ll back this up with no facts or nor personal experience; I can do this because we have entered the age of the ‘death of truth.’ Where a lie is merely a drifting ghost, but when repeated enough, it gains a heartbeat to haunt us all.
Geez, Bill! Maybe not listening to melancholy new-age music while writing would be a good idea for the future. 😊
The Pursuit of Return Tickets…
I did not pay the full kingly ransom for the upgraded flight from Taipei to Seattle. That would be beyond insanity, for it would be north of $15,000 for a pair of these seats. Fortunately, EVA Air does give you an option to bid on unused seats, since airline makes no money on them otherwise. The way it works is you go online, place a bid (along with a credit card number) and 50 hours before the flight, any empty seats in this class go to the highest bidders. So, for the flight from Taipei to Seattle we won. Excellent! Maybe karma just paid me a dividend.
The pursuit of a return flight upgrade became a confusing and frustrating labyrinth too convoluted to recount here. Let’s just say once in the sky EVA Air is my favorite airline, but when trying to contact them later they are notoriously the worst on the planet. Let me repeat ‘worst on the planet’.Even the Red Sea Airline in Djibouti in North Africa, which only has an arsenal of two prop planes and has daily routes to Mogadishu, at least they have someone to answer the damn phones. But suffice to say I was unable to secure a return flight with the upgraded seats ahead of time and will have to depend upon the kindness of the person at the check-in desk the day of the flight.
Then… out of the blue, three days before the return flight, a godsend of an email arrives. There was a feeling no different to getting one of the 5 Golden Tickets in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I am now allowed to bid. In which I did.
The Rain …
The rain is different here in Seattle. Smaller shards of melted ice pelt you with stinging, near-frozen pricks. Vengeful drops don’t simply fall rather they swirl in some unrelenting chaotic dance. You are constantly reminded of how cold each drop is as they find their way through the folds of your collar. Here in the Pacific Northwest the colorless grey clouds seem to hover lower like an invading army as they release their misty attack.
In northern Thailand, the drops are massive and pregnant with the warmth of the sun. It comes down in sheets like bathwater. In Chiang Mai, you duck slightly with a playful smile on your face during this fanciful weather event, where a reprieve is expected within the hour with the sun waiting around the corner. In Seattle, your head is down and your face contorted in a grimace as you battle the frozen enemy. This can last for days.
During a nightmarish time known as the ‘Big Dark’, Seattle suffers from a sun that only shows its face a paltry 8 hours a day. If you are caught in a rainstorm – or, gods forbid snow – during this time, I pray for your soul. The scar left in your memory will haunt your dreamscape for eternity.
Chomping at the Bit with two days to go…
Yes, it’s Sunday morning; I am just holding it together with habitual willpower and caffeine. I got up at 4:30 a.m., and I think I need just a couple more days to get over my jetlag. Maybe today will be the day I don’t get the ‘dizzies’ at 9 o’clock. Yes, as I am typing and sharing my thoughts, my back is a staging ground for its own private lightning storm. Advil, toast, and coffee have become my daily breakfast. Then there is the knowledge that I am only required to use toilet paper for two more dreadful days. It is a 48-hour countdown to liberation. Those who know, know…
In my world, I’ve always been ‘the driver.’ I have always enjoyed driving. In my life, I’ve tracked over a million miles between my professional career and private life. Diane’s condo, and several planned lunch dates are in the south of Seattle, while our storage unit and Airbnb are in the north. While here during this escapade, we’ve found ourselves with necessity of traversing the downtown corridor 18 times. Without the current repaving project Seatle ranks 7th amongst the worse US cites for traffic. By adding construction on Interstate 5, it has taken something grueling and challenging into something of a Herculean task. Yeah, going 22 miles or 35 kilometers in an hour and a half every single day seems… unforgivable, unjust or just plain…sadistic. For a guy who hasn’t touched a steering wheel in years, it has become a cruel and vindictive jest from the gods of traffic. Spending hours on a freeway with my foot glued to the brake has broken me. I crave the dignified serenity of being chauffeured around by rideshare and just the comfortable rhythm of walking to where we need to go. In other words, I don’t want to drive anymore. Even with the Wicked Witch of a long-haul flight between us and that Land of Oz, I am more than ready to follow those yellow bricks back to Chiang Mai…
Don’t forget to check out Diane’s YouTube channel: Ate Diane at Sacred Heart Cathedral
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