SOON THE REBELLION WILL BE CRUSHED AND OBAMA WILL BE ONE OF US…
There are only two paths that will see the end of the Mullahs’ stranglehold on the Iranian government. The first requires an unflappable determination by the Iranian rebels to proceed at any cost, along with a defection of the Iranian military to their cause. The second involves foreign intervention to depose the current rulers. The Iranian ruling regime is not the elected American government of the Civil Rights Era, nor the unpopular Soviet-backed Communist rulers of Eastern Europe, nor the Brits thousands of leagues from home in Twentieth Century India. They will not throw their hands up and give in because they see the inevitably of the cause, or simply tire of resisting. But the nature of the protests seems to be changing after the first week to one of measured, silent defiance which will not force the military to choose sides, thus the first option for revolution is unlikely. The second option is unwanted, by the admission of the protesters themselves. The West, particularly the United States, is despised as meddlers who make things worse wherever they stick their fingers.
What the protesters do want from us is for the World, at behest of the United States, to refuse to recognize the legitimacy of the current leadership. They believe that in a desire for legitimacy on the world stage, the Iranian rulers will cave into their desires for a more transparent, representative government. What the rebels fail to realize is that such a position is untenable…the rulers of Iran already have another path to legitimacy at the table of foreign relations, and it has nothing to do with respecting basic civil liberties.
The unfortunate truth is that the West, lead by the United States, has no choice but to treat with Iran’s ruling regime. A nation that possesses nuclear weapons--or on the verge of acquiring them—cannot be ignored or treated like a bully shouting names across the playground; particularly one that, having shown willingness to indiscriminately kill the opposition in its own country, is unlikely to have any compunctions when it comes to killing its hated enemies. The cost is too high if they aren’t bluffing. Once protected by the shield of nuclear weapons, the option of foreign military intervention in Iran is forever off the table because it would assure the destruction of Israel, in addition to threats to other Western countries via nuke-bearing terrorists supplied, financed, and supported by the Iranian government. For all his failings as leader of the United States, let alone the “Free World,” George W. Bush was not wrong in this. A nuclear Iran creates a world in which a ruling Muslim theocracy can dictate terms to the West. Only mutually-assured destruction at the hands of Israel’s nuclear arsenal will keep the Iranian leaders from stepping too far out of line.
We are past the point of no return in this. The time for playing games with recognizing or not recognizing legitimacy was thirty years ago when nearly all of Iran supported the theocracy that replaced the corrupt, Western-backed monarchy. Iran will possess nuclear weapons within a matter of years. Ignoring the current rulers because of civil injustices will not change that nor prevent them from threatening the rest of the world when they possess them. The only option available to the World is diplomacy – concessions when the Iranian government behaves well, economic sanctions and public condemnations when they do not, until perhaps one day immense social and economic upheaval—on a scale that dwarfs the current protests--brings down the current rulership.
As the rebellion peters out over the next month, word will slowly seep through Iranian society that Barack Obama, the United States, the West, even the World, are in league with the Supreme Leader and Dictator Ahmadinejad. They will see how we treat them as legitimate rulers and conclude that we seek to oppress the people of Iran through them. They will refuse to recognize that we had no choice. As brave as they have been to stand up to the current regime in the wake of the election, they will not ultimately take the responsibility for their failure to effect positive, lasting change in their own country. Don’t get me wrong, the images of Iranians, particularly the women, standing up for their right to speak their mind, to be friends with whom they choose, to have a career of their choosing, to have their vote counted and opinions represented in their government—they are, and should be an inspiration to anyone who believes that these are fundamental liberties granted by God to all of humanity. But the onus to bring about change lies with the Iranian rebels alone. What I see though is a society that has been bred and brainwashed into blaming the West, both rightly and wrongly, for their failures. The Green Rebellion will be no different.
The spirit of the rebels will eventually be crushed, freedom of speech and the media further repressed in a country that in some ways was more modern than any in the region in those regards. Rules that prevent protests will be enacted and enforced over the next decade until the will of those that remember this week is broken. Personal privacy will be thrown out the window because of a need to protect the state…and the faith. This is Iran’s destiny. It is the price of not being willing to see a revolution through to the end at any cost. In an unfortunate way this should be a source of appreciation for the dedication to and price paid for freedom by the democratic leaders of the West in the Eighteenth through Twentieth Centuries—by people who believed that death was preferable to living a life of oppression under the thumb of unjust rulers. For all the faults of the West, for whatever one thinks of our hypocrisy and greed, that is something we got right. Iranians, Chinese, North Koreans, Burmese, if you ever want your day to come your dedication to your cause must be no less than American Patrick Henry:
“Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!"
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Just Man, the Kind Man, and the Dead Man
A man and his friend have been stranded in the desert for three days.
While his throat is parched and his brow burnt, it is clear to the man that his friend will not last another day in the sweltering heat without some water, for he was a fool and drank his entire canteen on the first day.
The man’s own canteen hangs about his neck, not but a third of the water remaining. Perhaps tomorrow they will come across an oasis, but he may need all the water that remains to survive that long. So the man and his friend silently trudge on.
Later that afternoon his friend collapses in the sand and breathes his last.
The man carries on, determined to not suffer the same fate. The next morning he finishes the last of his water and scans the horizon. Noticing a shimmer he starts toward it.
After a few hours he staggers into a beautiful oasis with every manner of exotic fruit to please the palette and a score of gorgeous, scantily-clad women.
As he’s fed grapes and fondles one of the women he reflects on how lucky he was. Had he been a fool like his friend, he might have died in the sands there with him.
***
A man and his friend have been stranded in the desert for three days.
While his throat is parched and his brow burnt, it is clear to the man that his friend will not last another day in the sweltering heat without some water, for he was a fool and drank his entire canteen on the first day.
The man’s own canteen hangs about his neck, not but a third of the water remaining. Pained at the suffering of his friend, the man drinks half the water in the canteen and then hands it to his friend. “This is the last of the water, friend,” he says. “Perhaps tomorrow we will come upon an oasis, but you will not make it unless you drink this.” The grateful friend drinks the last of the water and they trudge on.
The next morning the man spots a shimmer on the horizon. As he starts toward it, however, his friend collapses in the sand and breathes his last.
Shaken, the man continues on, determined to reach salvation before he suffers the same fate. With the last of his strength the man crawls toward the shimmer and comes upon a beautiful oasis with every manner of exotic fruit to please the palette and a score of gorgeous, scantily-clad women.
Several days later, after the man regains his strength, he forms a cross with two reeds and sticks it in the wet ground about the life-saving pool. The man bows his head and says a prayer for his lost friend.
As he returns to his women one notices the tears in his eyes. “What troubles thee, my love?”
The man looks up at her and answers, “How unfortunate my friend could not be here with me. I did all I could for him, but it was the will of God. May his soul rest in peace.”
***
A man and his friend have been stranded in the desert for three days.
While his throat is parched and his brow burnt, it is clear to the man that his friend will not last another day in the sweltering heat without some water, for he was a fool and drank his entire canteen on the first day.
The man’s own canteen hangs about his neck, not but a third of the water remaining. Pained at the suffering of his friend, the man hands him the canteen with the remaining water. “Drink this, friend,” he says.
The friend drinks half the water and makes to hand the canteen back to the man. “Do you want the rest of this?” the friend asks.
The man looks at his friend, who looks little improved. “You drink it,” the man says, “you need it more. Perhaps tomorrow we will come upon an oasis, but if not, we will both die here anyway.” The grateful friend drinks the last of the water and they trudge on.
The next morning the man and his friend spot a shimmer on the horizon. As they start toward it, however, the man collapses in the sand, and breathes his last.
With the last of his strength, the man’s friend crawls toward the shimmer and comes upon a beautiful oasis with every manner of exotic fruit to please the palette and a score of gorgeous, scantily-clad women.
After the man’s friend regains his strength he forms a cross with two reeds and sticks it in the wet ground about the life-saving pool. The friend bows his head and mumbles a eulogy for the man: “He was a good man, a true hero, and if not for him I would not be here today.”
A man and his friend have been stranded in the desert for three days.
While his throat is parched and his brow burnt, it is clear to the man that his friend will not last another day in the sweltering heat without some water, for he was a fool and drank his entire canteen on the first day.
The man’s own canteen hangs about his neck, not but a third of the water remaining. Perhaps tomorrow they will come across an oasis, but he may need all the water that remains to survive that long. So the man and his friend silently trudge on.
Later that afternoon his friend collapses in the sand and breathes his last.
The man carries on, determined to not suffer the same fate. The next morning he finishes the last of his water and scans the horizon. Noticing a shimmer he starts toward it.
After a few hours he staggers into a beautiful oasis with every manner of exotic fruit to please the palette and a score of gorgeous, scantily-clad women.
As he’s fed grapes and fondles one of the women he reflects on how lucky he was. Had he been a fool like his friend, he might have died in the sands there with him.
***
A man and his friend have been stranded in the desert for three days.
While his throat is parched and his brow burnt, it is clear to the man that his friend will not last another day in the sweltering heat without some water, for he was a fool and drank his entire canteen on the first day.
The man’s own canteen hangs about his neck, not but a third of the water remaining. Pained at the suffering of his friend, the man drinks half the water in the canteen and then hands it to his friend. “This is the last of the water, friend,” he says. “Perhaps tomorrow we will come upon an oasis, but you will not make it unless you drink this.” The grateful friend drinks the last of the water and they trudge on.
The next morning the man spots a shimmer on the horizon. As he starts toward it, however, his friend collapses in the sand and breathes his last.
Shaken, the man continues on, determined to reach salvation before he suffers the same fate. With the last of his strength the man crawls toward the shimmer and comes upon a beautiful oasis with every manner of exotic fruit to please the palette and a score of gorgeous, scantily-clad women.
Several days later, after the man regains his strength, he forms a cross with two reeds and sticks it in the wet ground about the life-saving pool. The man bows his head and says a prayer for his lost friend.
As he returns to his women one notices the tears in his eyes. “What troubles thee, my love?”
The man looks up at her and answers, “How unfortunate my friend could not be here with me. I did all I could for him, but it was the will of God. May his soul rest in peace.”
***
A man and his friend have been stranded in the desert for three days.
While his throat is parched and his brow burnt, it is clear to the man that his friend will not last another day in the sweltering heat without some water, for he was a fool and drank his entire canteen on the first day.
The man’s own canteen hangs about his neck, not but a third of the water remaining. Pained at the suffering of his friend, the man hands him the canteen with the remaining water. “Drink this, friend,” he says.
The friend drinks half the water and makes to hand the canteen back to the man. “Do you want the rest of this?” the friend asks.
The man looks at his friend, who looks little improved. “You drink it,” the man says, “you need it more. Perhaps tomorrow we will come upon an oasis, but if not, we will both die here anyway.” The grateful friend drinks the last of the water and they trudge on.
The next morning the man and his friend spot a shimmer on the horizon. As they start toward it, however, the man collapses in the sand, and breathes his last.
With the last of his strength, the man’s friend crawls toward the shimmer and comes upon a beautiful oasis with every manner of exotic fruit to please the palette and a score of gorgeous, scantily-clad women.
After the man’s friend regains his strength he forms a cross with two reeds and sticks it in the wet ground about the life-saving pool. The friend bows his head and mumbles a eulogy for the man: “He was a good man, a true hero, and if not for him I would not be here today.”
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Lolz. Okay, that didn’t work too well. I think I’ll try to stay away from the grand multi-day, multi-entry stories from now on and stick with posting random musings.
On today’s menu: Counting Crows’ new studio album, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings.
I’m a big Crows fan. Have been since my high school roommate—a borderline obsessive fan at the time—introduced me to August and Everything After. Their music conjures memories of certain periods and events in my life like music from no other artist. I am not, however, one of the religiously loyal lunatics (they would piss me off if they didn’t scare the shit out of me—in the end it’s just music, people) following the band that believes it above criticism. Now that we’ve established I’m not going to tell you how unbelievably amazing this album is and that you’re a twit for not being able to appreciate it, we can get to the review…
Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is, on the whole, a good-sounding album from start to finish. For fans, I think it will inspire a feeling of familiarity, like these songs are ‘old friends,’ even if one’s you haven’t kept in touch with. Their fourth studio album, Hard Candy, took a good many listens for me to get attached to it (though I’ve come to enjoy much of that album), and This Desert Life still leaves me mostly cold but for a few bright spots. But the listening experience of SN&SM is enjoyable from the off, and that’s high praise from someone who generally can’t stand but two or three songs from most albums the first time I listen to them.
The album is broken into two parts based on theme and style: Saturday Nights, and, predictably, Sunday Mornings. Saturday Nights is very clearly inspired by rock ‘n roll and early 90s alternative. The sound of Aerosmith and the Stones, Lynyrd Skynyrd, REM, and Nirvana, and I’m sure many other familiar bands in those genres appear in the tapestry of Saturday Nights. It’s a nice changeup for the band from the pop and piano songs of Hard Candy, the experimentation of This Desert Life, and the dark rage that tainted Recovering the Satellites. Collectively, I would say that musically-speaking Saturday Nights is some of their best work since August and Everything After.
I’m a bit indifferent to the lyrics and themes of the Saturday Night songs. You could say it’s about living it up on Saturday nights, but more appropriately it’s about Adam (the band?) getting fucked up on drugs and alcohol and banging chicks all over the world basically. Some of the songs seem to lament the fact that his life has taken him in this direction. To be honest, I find this whole theme in the band’s songs to be pretty tired by now. Look, we got that you were a wealthy, famous musician two albums ago Adam, no need to beat us over the head with it. For a guy who professes to hate what his wealth and fame as brought him, he sure loves to sing about it….often. It wouldn’t hurt to get a new shtick from time to time.
As far as individual songs go, “Los Angeles” is the most immediately appealing of the bunch. A chorus that feels inspired by Aerosmith’s “Pink” is really the highlight of the song, but the instrumentation really works well for the rest of the song, until the rather silly ending. Adam’s voice is integrated pretty well with the music, a huge bonus for a song that would have been easily yelled through. Actually the album as a whole offers some of Adam’s best singing since August and Everything After. He can sing (not great, but for the style of music the band plays it _can_ work well) but he adopted yelling and talking with Recovering the Satellites and sing-song beginning with This Dessert Life—at least in the studio versions…the live versions of many of the same songs sound infinitely better because, in part, he actually sings them. There’s a good deal of “vintage” Adam to be found in this album. Anyway, parts of “1492” work, “Cowboys” is a pretty solid throwback to August and Everything After-era Crows, and “Hanging Tree” has a catchy chorus.
Sunday Mornings’ songs are more subtle, primarily based around the piano and/or slow guitar, though in places you can find some Beatles flavor actually. Not to say that there is a lack of variety, but some will undoubtedly find it repetitious and boring. Public Service Announcement: do not listen to the Sunday Mornings portion of the album while driving home late at night after a long day. This is good music to fall asleep to (not necessarily because it’s boring, but it has the effect of letting your energy and frustration ease out of you). The music is generally not as strong as the Saturday Nights songs, but Adam’s voice stands out a bit more, and since he’s on his game in this album, we get some rather _nice_ songs in the bunch. “A Tuesday in Amsterdam” channels “Raining In Baltimore” and their first single from the album, “You Can’t Count On Me,” while not being one of the more immediately likeable songs, is very catchy on subsequent listens. The gem here, though, is “I Dream Of Michelangelo.” It doesn’t compare to “Los Angeles” or “Cowboys” but it’s a good “Crow’s song.” The themes of Sunday Mornings revolve around the regret or apologies made after waking up following a night of living it up. It would seem to be depressing, but rather than being steeped in self-loathing, in some ways they reflect the release one feels from dealing with the consequences of one’s actions
Overall the balance and synergy between the singing and music on Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is some of the strongest we’ve seen from Counting Crows since August. The lyrics/themes are not terribly inspiring relative to much of their other work, but I suppose one takes the good with the bad. The album represents a respectable effort by the band from start to finish, one which fans will embrace and casual listeners can appreciate.
7.5/10
My final complaint about the album involves the exclusion of the song “Suffocate.” The live version from their “Launching the Satellites” concert is a bit too “yell-y” but a well-conceived studio version of this song would have been one of the album’s highlights. Alas, frontman Adam Duritz hates the song, so we may never see it on their officially released albums. :'(
On today’s menu: Counting Crows’ new studio album, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings.
I’m a big Crows fan. Have been since my high school roommate—a borderline obsessive fan at the time—introduced me to August and Everything After. Their music conjures memories of certain periods and events in my life like music from no other artist. I am not, however, one of the religiously loyal lunatics (they would piss me off if they didn’t scare the shit out of me—in the end it’s just music, people) following the band that believes it above criticism. Now that we’ve established I’m not going to tell you how unbelievably amazing this album is and that you’re a twit for not being able to appreciate it, we can get to the review…
Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is, on the whole, a good-sounding album from start to finish. For fans, I think it will inspire a feeling of familiarity, like these songs are ‘old friends,’ even if one’s you haven’t kept in touch with. Their fourth studio album, Hard Candy, took a good many listens for me to get attached to it (though I’ve come to enjoy much of that album), and This Desert Life still leaves me mostly cold but for a few bright spots. But the listening experience of SN&SM is enjoyable from the off, and that’s high praise from someone who generally can’t stand but two or three songs from most albums the first time I listen to them.
The album is broken into two parts based on theme and style: Saturday Nights, and, predictably, Sunday Mornings. Saturday Nights is very clearly inspired by rock ‘n roll and early 90s alternative. The sound of Aerosmith and the Stones, Lynyrd Skynyrd, REM, and Nirvana, and I’m sure many other familiar bands in those genres appear in the tapestry of Saturday Nights. It’s a nice changeup for the band from the pop and piano songs of Hard Candy, the experimentation of This Desert Life, and the dark rage that tainted Recovering the Satellites. Collectively, I would say that musically-speaking Saturday Nights is some of their best work since August and Everything After.
I’m a bit indifferent to the lyrics and themes of the Saturday Night songs. You could say it’s about living it up on Saturday nights, but more appropriately it’s about Adam (the band?) getting fucked up on drugs and alcohol and banging chicks all over the world basically. Some of the songs seem to lament the fact that his life has taken him in this direction. To be honest, I find this whole theme in the band’s songs to be pretty tired by now. Look, we got that you were a wealthy, famous musician two albums ago Adam, no need to beat us over the head with it. For a guy who professes to hate what his wealth and fame as brought him, he sure loves to sing about it….often. It wouldn’t hurt to get a new shtick from time to time.
As far as individual songs go, “Los Angeles” is the most immediately appealing of the bunch. A chorus that feels inspired by Aerosmith’s “Pink” is really the highlight of the song, but the instrumentation really works well for the rest of the song, until the rather silly ending. Adam’s voice is integrated pretty well with the music, a huge bonus for a song that would have been easily yelled through. Actually the album as a whole offers some of Adam’s best singing since August and Everything After. He can sing (not great, but for the style of music the band plays it _can_ work well) but he adopted yelling and talking with Recovering the Satellites and sing-song beginning with This Dessert Life—at least in the studio versions…the live versions of many of the same songs sound infinitely better because, in part, he actually sings them. There’s a good deal of “vintage” Adam to be found in this album. Anyway, parts of “1492” work, “Cowboys” is a pretty solid throwback to August and Everything After-era Crows, and “Hanging Tree” has a catchy chorus.
Sunday Mornings’ songs are more subtle, primarily based around the piano and/or slow guitar, though in places you can find some Beatles flavor actually. Not to say that there is a lack of variety, but some will undoubtedly find it repetitious and boring. Public Service Announcement: do not listen to the Sunday Mornings portion of the album while driving home late at night after a long day. This is good music to fall asleep to (not necessarily because it’s boring, but it has the effect of letting your energy and frustration ease out of you). The music is generally not as strong as the Saturday Nights songs, but Adam’s voice stands out a bit more, and since he’s on his game in this album, we get some rather _nice_ songs in the bunch. “A Tuesday in Amsterdam” channels “Raining In Baltimore” and their first single from the album, “You Can’t Count On Me,” while not being one of the more immediately likeable songs, is very catchy on subsequent listens. The gem here, though, is “I Dream Of Michelangelo.” It doesn’t compare to “Los Angeles” or “Cowboys” but it’s a good “Crow’s song.” The themes of Sunday Mornings revolve around the regret or apologies made after waking up following a night of living it up. It would seem to be depressing, but rather than being steeped in self-loathing, in some ways they reflect the release one feels from dealing with the consequences of one’s actions
Overall the balance and synergy between the singing and music on Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is some of the strongest we’ve seen from Counting Crows since August. The lyrics/themes are not terribly inspiring relative to much of their other work, but I suppose one takes the good with the bad. The album represents a respectable effort by the band from start to finish, one which fans will embrace and casual listeners can appreciate.
7.5/10
My final complaint about the album involves the exclusion of the song “Suffocate.” The live version from their “Launching the Satellites” concert is a bit too “yell-y” but a well-conceived studio version of this song would have been one of the album’s highlights. Alas, frontman Adam Duritz hates the song, so we may never see it on their officially released albums. :'(
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Departing
Thursday, February 22, 2007
I hadn't slept much the two nights previous...I was too excited. Then I was scared I was going to oversleep Thursday morning so I set all three of my cell phone alarms, my two alarm clocks, and my watch each ten minutes apart starting at about 5am (I figured nobody could turn off six alarms scattered throughout the room in their sleep). I got up fine though and took the bus into the city--New York, that is--to catch A-Train at the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
I had been fretting for a few days about how best to get to JFK and settled on the subway as being the most reliable. I was going to take luck out of the picture as much as I possibly could. You see, you can grab a cab to the airport, and it'll leave as soon as you get in, but it's expensive (I think the airport cabs might be up to $40 plus tip now) and traffic is a significant issue, not to mention the brain hemoraging as one watches the driver taking the most traffic-clogged, round-about ways to get to the simplest places. Then there are the airport buses. I'm a fan of these for getting to Laguardia, and they're only like $13 one-way, but then they leave whenever they show up (this, of course, is despite the fact that they actually have a schedule), have broken down (not mine, but at least one JFK bus has while I was riding the Laguardia bus at the same time), and also have to deal with the traffic. The third option was the subway. It's the cheapest--$2 for the subway ride, plus $5 to ride the AirTrain around the JFK terminals, but then I've never heard of anybody getting to JFK that way. The best part IMO, is that you don't have to deal with New York traffic and since the subways run almost like clockwork (almost) you can count on getting there eventually. I imagine the biggest objections are the cleanliness of the subway--but seriously people, the subways are fine, er, for the most part, and I'm sure you don't even want to know what's happened in the past 24 hours in the back seat of the cab you're riding instead--and the safety, which may be a legitimate concern, but during the workday I didn't see anything to cause a worry.
I actually ended up getting to the airport way too early, but whatever. I ate some breakfast, talked to Tanya on the phone to inquire about the $-to-Thai Baht conversion rate, and to let her and Chris know that I was well and truly coming.
To be continued...
Thursday, February 22, 2007
I hadn't slept much the two nights previous...I was too excited. Then I was scared I was going to oversleep Thursday morning so I set all three of my cell phone alarms, my two alarm clocks, and my watch each ten minutes apart starting at about 5am (I figured nobody could turn off six alarms scattered throughout the room in their sleep). I got up fine though and took the bus into the city--New York, that is--to catch A-Train at the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
I had been fretting for a few days about how best to get to JFK and settled on the subway as being the most reliable. I was going to take luck out of the picture as much as I possibly could. You see, you can grab a cab to the airport, and it'll leave as soon as you get in, but it's expensive (I think the airport cabs might be up to $40 plus tip now) and traffic is a significant issue, not to mention the brain hemoraging as one watches the driver taking the most traffic-clogged, round-about ways to get to the simplest places. Then there are the airport buses. I'm a fan of these for getting to Laguardia, and they're only like $13 one-way, but then they leave whenever they show up (this, of course, is despite the fact that they actually have a schedule), have broken down (not mine, but at least one JFK bus has while I was riding the Laguardia bus at the same time), and also have to deal with the traffic. The third option was the subway. It's the cheapest--$2 for the subway ride, plus $5 to ride the AirTrain around the JFK terminals, but then I've never heard of anybody getting to JFK that way. The best part IMO, is that you don't have to deal with New York traffic and since the subways run almost like clockwork (almost) you can count on getting there eventually. I imagine the biggest objections are the cleanliness of the subway--but seriously people, the subways are fine, er, for the most part, and I'm sure you don't even want to know what's happened in the past 24 hours in the back seat of the cab you're riding instead--and the safety, which may be a legitimate concern, but during the workday I didn't see anything to cause a worry.
I actually ended up getting to the airport way too early, but whatever. I ate some breakfast, talked to Tanya on the phone to inquire about the $-to-Thai Baht conversion rate, and to let her and Chris know that I was well and truly coming.
To be continued...
My First Trip Abroad!!!
Um, yeah, so this is my first attempt at a blog so I'm not sure how it's going to come out. For the time being this is going to be a sort of post-dated diary of my ten-day trip to Thailand. My friends Tanya and Chris are currently living in Chiang Mai in Northern Thailand and this was an opportunity to visit them, and more significantly, it was my first real trip abroad...yay!!! I say "real" because driving through southern Ontario shouldn't really count as a trip abroad for Americans--heck, during my few trips there in the past I hadn't even officially needed a passport. No, I wanted a stamp in my passport so I could actually prove I've been out of the States.
Okay, yeah, visiting a foreign country is hardly a revolutionary concept, but you have to understand that for people that grow up in communities surrounded by corn and soybeans, even something as simple as going to "The Big City" is a life-changing event. Oh, I've been around a bit--much of north-suburban Chicago, metro Philly, and the New York City area--but I was born and lived for almost half my life in one of those wholesome Midwest towns where everybody knows everybody else, three generations of your family live within two miles of each other, and your elementary school field trips were to farms to watch cows being milked (seriously). So a trip to Thailand might not sound all that special on an absolute scale, but it was very special to me, so now you can read about it. :-D
Um, yeah, so this is my first attempt at a blog so I'm not sure how it's going to come out. For the time being this is going to be a sort of post-dated diary of my ten-day trip to Thailand. My friends Tanya and Chris are currently living in Chiang Mai in Northern Thailand and this was an opportunity to visit them, and more significantly, it was my first real trip abroad...yay!!! I say "real" because driving through southern Ontario shouldn't really count as a trip abroad for Americans--heck, during my few trips there in the past I hadn't even officially needed a passport. No, I wanted a stamp in my passport so I could actually prove I've been out of the States.
Okay, yeah, visiting a foreign country is hardly a revolutionary concept, but you have to understand that for people that grow up in communities surrounded by corn and soybeans, even something as simple as going to "The Big City" is a life-changing event. Oh, I've been around a bit--much of north-suburban Chicago, metro Philly, and the New York City area--but I was born and lived for almost half my life in one of those wholesome Midwest towns where everybody knows everybody else, three generations of your family live within two miles of each other, and your elementary school field trips were to farms to watch cows being milked (seriously). So a trip to Thailand might not sound all that special on an absolute scale, but it was very special to me, so now you can read about it. :-D
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