entry 1, trip and arrival

Since the last 40 odd hours have involved sitting at a gate or in coach, it would seem odd that there exists the potential to write anything, but as I am still in a state of exhaustion, I’ll simply disagree with myself and write something anyway.

 Leaving San Fran was really quite simple, and way better than my previous experience at LAX when I nearly went on the conveyor with my checked bag through security–interrupt: they have new keyboards at this internet cafe, which preclude me from being able to use parentheses…anyone who knows me knows the difficulty this presents; thus, what should follow the word “security” reads something like: I actually think it the policy of LAX to make sure that one does indeed hop on the conveyor belt with your bag and go through security with it. Being only a code orange, they probably just decided to let me off easy

Anyway, during my last day in San Fran I got to chill with Navin, the coolest person on earth (yes, even above me…also, I just figured out how to get parentheses…the keyboard is wrong when it says the left one is above the #8 key, and aside from some swirly “letters” on the keys, it’s a standard qwerty). Anyway, again, she was telling me about the Nanny Diaries (or maybe it was the princess diaries…I can’t remember just now…thank god for parentheses), but the point is that they were showing the Nanny Diaries on my flight, which I decided to watch. So, on my flight from San Francisco to Hong Kong I watched the Nanny Diaries in German. That was Cathay Pacific’s choice of language for this particular piece of in-flight video entertainment. I am not sure to what extent this was a good test of my german skills, as the story was pretty generic…i.e. girl=nanny for uber-rich, white asshole parents; gets “disenchanted”/fired, security camera catches her lecturing the bitchy “mother” who really cares for the child in the nominal sense (by calling her son her son)…fast forward, happy ending. I watched because the nanny was hot and it was in german. There was also this one jock-like dude who was supposedly somewhat shallow in the beginning but by the end had developed yoda-like wisdom, as all good-looking secondary male characters do. Either way, I was jealous since he got to kiss the hot german speaking (overdubs) nanny while my shoulder was co-opted into my neighbors awkward sleeping arrangement.

 Now, food. I must say that I was actually able to sleep for a bit on this flight, and before I knew it 8 hours had passed. Psychologically this is very important. My typical experience is to be asked if I would like the braised chicken with rice or the fish and spicy noodle just seconds before I fall asleep. This did not happen, and so in a clear state i was able to order the braised chicken. While the fish may be just as good (i.e. just as bad), the thought of travelling for another 16 hours with fish breath…well, enough said. Anyway, in the decade that I have travelled internationally (not that impressive, really, but Ireland in 1998, when I was 12, did represent the first time I was out of the country), I have noticed that the food on airlines is improving. There is one thing that remains a concern. My meal came with prochiutto (sp?) and melon, which I became mildly excited about…as much as one can in situations such as these. Suffice it to say, the melon measured up to my expectations of airline fruit, but how fat and salt with a bit of meat (i.e. prochiutto) can taste bad remains a mystery. But, there it sat on my plate, looking particularly scrumptions. I picked it up, moved a bite towards my mouth, and it smelled like feet. Knowing that some of the finest creations smell bad (cheese, e.g.), I committed to not letting this prejudice keep me from continuing.  I put it in my mouth, and it tasted like feet. In fact, I think it probably was feet. Swallowing was a test in the power of the mind, particularly the ability of the conscious to tell the subconscious (as well as the decenting parts of the conscious) what to do.

 That being said, I am now in Cambodia. The ride from the airport did not go as planned, since I had to take a taxi and look like a rich white guy, but it beat sitting on a moto with 60lbs of luggage depending on my ability to keep in on the seat. My taxi driver got lost, not uncommon, but I finally arrived, slept, walked to the internet cafe, and wrote this. Ah yes, home in Cambodia again…now I have to go eat.


2 Responses to “entry 1, trip and arrival”

  1. Brittany Says:

    Oh, if only you got to be a secondary male character in a cliche movie… Wait, no, you’d rather be in something written by Aaron Sorkin.

    I am amused that you are so contrary that when you are relatively alone, you must disagree with yourself.

  2. my trip and arrival « Kiva Blogs from the Field Says:

    […] 24, 2008 entry 1, trip and arrival Since the last 40 odd hours have involved sitting at a gate or in coach, it would seem odd that […]

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