My Weblog

Asking the BIG Question... A Bit Unconventionally

Editor's note:
I kind of "snuck" the announcement of our engagement onto our "Top 10-ish" list last week and many people have been asking to hear the story.

I didn't do a post about it at the time because we were on a remote island in Thailand and I was having a hard time calling everyone that I wanted to tell before I posted it on the blog. But last week, with our trip winding down, I decided to put it on there. As I've kind of been living my life so publicly through this blog, in the end it seemed like an okay way to let everyone know at once.

So here's Rusel's story about finding the perfect ring and the perfect moment. Enjoy!

The question on everyone’s mind before Lex even left for Indonesia was: are you going to propose? I was probably asked this question more times than I was asked if I missed her. As the months trotted by I endured the question with a variety of answers:
• Maybe, we will see.
• I will see how it goes…
• Probably, you never know…

Meanwhile unknown to everyone I had decided to propose to her last Christmas in Colorado, but wanted to wait until “the right moment.” In the end, I knew two things: I wanted to do it on our trip and I knew I had to find the right ring. In thinking about it I knew it had to be like Lex, a unique experience.

Before I left I made way to some jewelers in the diamond district in New York and started to do some general research into the whole wedding ring thing. At the time I struggled because the diamond trade is somewhat sketchy and let's be honest, the whole diamond ring is a big scam brought on by the diamond companies. The famous mark of spending “two paychecks” was a marketing gimmick cooked up by DeBeers in the 1950s to get people to spend more. At some point it became the norm, but being a skeptical Generation X guy I do not often like to do the norm just because. I am not against it, but it does not always suit me.

I left the New York shops unsatisfied and still not knowing what to get. I decided it was best to leave it up to the trip. I fantasized about finding that perfect ring somewhere along the way… or some romantic notion to that degree. I figured I would know it when I saw it…

In Moscow, I set out on the secret mission of finding the ring. When I think back about it now I feel so naive. It is actually really hard to find that special something that defines how you feel about someone summed up in a small little ring that goes on a finger with a vein that leads directly to the heart that pumps life sustaining blood to that person you love. Quickly went away the notions of cheesy marketing notions and blood diamonds and I began on my quest to define us.

I can tell you now; being in foreign countries actually tripled the obstacles in accomplishing my goal. At first it consisted of wandering markets and stores looking for that special ring, but it soon became apparent that I would need to be a little more aggressive in my search. I can describe the typical ring shopping experience as thus:
1. When Lex is not looking research on the web where to go in any particular city to buy rings (which is hard enough to do as Lex is very inquisitive!)
2. To escape without Lex by my side (as we are with each other pretty much constantly) I utilized three strategies:
a. Tell Lex I want to go to an art museum and hope that she does not want to come and actually go ring shopping
b. Wake up before her and slip out the door for a couple of hours
c. Wait for her to do go do her own things and say that I am just going to stay home or go to an art museum
3. Spend most of the time wandering the streets in a foreign country completely lost looking at a map
4. Trying to find someone who spoke English to ask directions and usually getting some confused looks or a new piece to the puzzle which usually ended up making me more lost
5. Usually failing in my first attempt to find the store and having to return to Lex so that she would not grow suspicious
6. A few days later making my second attempt after hours of staring at maps in another language to try to find the location
7. After repeating steps 3 and 4 actually finding the store
8. Upon entering the store discovering that no one speaks English or terribly interested in bridging that gap to make my dream come true

So as we went I scoured the countries. It got to the point where I was looking everywhere. Any time we went shopping or just generally toured the city I was looking in secret. I felt like Indiana Jones on the great search for treasure, only my favorite sidekick was completely oblivious to my journey.

As we made our way across Russia, Mongolia, and China I began to worry. I felt no closer to finding what I wanted, which I did not even know what that was. Over the years, Lex and I have had this conversation and we never really settled the debate of diamond, band, or something else -- which compounded my pressure. My recipe of “unique” was ending up a clouded vision of more questions.

By the time we made it to Japan I added a few ingredients to the ring, I felt it needed to encompass:
• Freedom
• Love
• Journey
• Entwined
• Warm
• Soft
• Flowing
• Flying
• Motion

Okay, when describing a bunch of adjectives to a jeweler, especially in a foreign country when they speak limited English, you get some pretty odd looks. Gone were the days of Indiana Jones and here were the days of me miming “journey”, “flowing” and “entwined.”

Then one day I struck fools gold. I was doing my usual scouring on the web early in the morning (Lex as always sleeping just a few feet away) in Kyoto, Japan when I stumbled on a website of a local jeweler. As I viewed the selection I wrote down a couple that seemed of interest and made my typical journey. This jeweler’s store for some reason was particularly hard to find, it was probably because they provided no directions and most maps in Japan are, no surprise, in Japanese.

When I got into the store no English speakers were present. At the time, this seemed odd because we had come across so many in that country. I tried to communicate to the dealer what I wanted. I did manage to see the rings and when I saw it, I knew it. One ring in particular caught my eye and in that moment it became the new mission. Through the clerk's broken English I deciphered that I would have to order the ring, select a diamond and then it would become mine. I conveyed that I had limited time and that this was a mission of love. He told me no and some stuff in Japanese… but I sampled the rings and noted that they were all too small for Lex’s lovely finger. He told me of his two other locations, which just so happened to be in Tokyo. I thought I was in luck as we were going back to Tokyo the next day. Some of this conversation is admittedly assumed as very little English was spoken.

In Tokyo I was confronted with my usual obstacles but by 10 times. To describe Tokyo is not too difficult: 33 million people, goes on forever and pretty much nothing makes sense. My searches for the other locations were the worst ever. I often laughed in my mind of how insane I was and about how I should have selected a ring in New York like a normal person.

The store in Tokyo proved to be no better and I could not even find the ring I wanted. In the third store I really lucked out and they had a clerk that spoke English. I was so happy and relieved that I almost asked him to marry me. We had a quick conversation and it soon became apparent: I was not going to get this ring that day. I would have to actually select the ring, then the diamond and then it takes them six weeks to make it! When I told him I was leaving Tokyo that day he kind of chuckled. In researching this store I had actually discovered that they just opened up a location in New York (oh the irony!) and inquired about my options. I left the store heartbroken as I saw my dream crumple in a matter of days. I sat with my weight on a slab of Japanese concrete for a good couple of hours -- broken.

Shortly after I picked myself up, I hit the plane and my mind started to think of alternate plans. The basic problem I felt was I basically wanted to ask Lex every day on this trip. The trip has been so amazing and we seemed to stumble upon romantic moments daily. I often considered blurting it out without the ring and just owning it up to compulsion. I bit my tongue more times than I can even remember. I knew I could not wait until New York, as I was ready to burst.

In Thailand I decided to continue my search. I thought perhaps I could find her a ring that would symbolize the promise to her. Something equally authentic that I could present to her, but as Thailand has a different economy, I assumed notions of diamonds would have to wait. Again I scoured the markets and stores… nothing in Bangkok, Chang Mai or Pai. By the time we headed south I really started to have my doubts. We were heading to some remote island where options would definitely be limited.

On the second morning I woke early and made my way to “town” which was basically a small street with shops. They looked more like garages than anything and my hopes were small. I came upon a jewelry store and went in. The guy behind the counter was the actual jeweler and we had an easy conversation. He told me that the stones came from Australia and that he polished them and made them into rings. I thought how random -- who would think that in some remote part of Thailand the jeweler would be using stones from the country we just happened to be going to next. So I decided to take a look.

For all those out there who know Lex you have probably noticed that she has a particular flare for rings. Much like her sunglasses, she likes them large and somewhat overstated. Her rings are usually bright and the designs often dramatic. I had decided that the ring’s stone needed to be white representing purity, which by coincidence they all happened to be and I quickly eyed one that had two of the stones that fit my descriptions above.

I felt it fitting; a stone for each of us, each one contained a swirl that seemed to vibrate like our hearts, then delicate metal work celebrated on each side. I bought it up and with delight I carefully mapped out my plan.

Conveniently we were in the most romantic spot in the world: on a secluded beach in our own bungalow 100 feet from what could be considered one of the best restaurants in all of Thailand. I went back to town later that afternoon, bought up the only two bottles of wine in town, a packet of cheese, some crackers, picked some wild flowers…. and gave a quick call up to the clouds to clear the skies so that the all the stars could shine bright. The mood was set. I long ago selected the music, which to start was “You are so Beautiful” by Joe Cocker, which Lex randomly played our first night in Moscow, and then leading into Zero 7, with was the first music we listened together on our first meeting.

I am glad to report that after dinner and a few drinks she quickly said yes without hesitation. It was actually more of: “Yes, of course!” The night was perfect, the stars were welcoming and before I knew it the most important question of my life had whispered past my lips.

The morning after I found myself reflecting on this long journey, to find something as unique as Lex. I found that my mission was complete and although the real ring waits in New York, along with our regular lives, I find I got the best of both worlds. Not really believing in the whole diamond ritual anyway, I found it fitting that I asked her with a ring made by a local artists, someone much like myself. Nothing made by America’s mass consumerism or ritualistic needs, but something made from around the world that is pure and unique in intention, just like Lex. A ring made in Thailand with stones from Australia, our present and the next leg of the trip. Then, back in New York, our future waits. A beautiful ring that we will select, piece by piece, and then somewhere in Kyoto, the cultural heart of our trip, an artist will go to work and build the traditional ring that will last forever.

I also look forward to the day when I get to let the question slip from my lips again; in the city we call home and where my heart always lays, in our future.

Big Waves

Rusel and I left the Sanctuary yesterday afternoon, and what a tale we have to tell.

The mission: to catch the last ferry at 5:30 from Ko Phan Ngan to Ko Samui so we could spend the night on Ko Samui and catch our early-morning flight to Bangkok.

We woke up yesterday morning and I was a little bit sad, because we were leaving -- but of course also a little bit happy (okay, a lot bit happy) because I knew that I would soon be able to eat. We were planning to leave the Sanctuary on Hat Thian beach around 4:00 in a longtail wooden boat for the 15-minute boat ride to Ko Phan Ngan, giving us plenty of time to catch the 5:30 ferry that left from there.

When we walked down to the beach, however, we realized that the ocean had other plans for us. The waves were huge whitecaps barreling violently against the shore. Usually, the beach is busy with traffic from the wooden longtail “taxi” boats taking people to and from the beach. These taxi boats are the only convenient way to get to the secluded beach. There is also the option to take a car but it takes much longer – around 45 minutes – through rough roads. As it had rained all night before, we were pretty sure that the road was a mess and didn’t want to have to resort to this method of getting to Hat Rin, the town from which the ferry left.

“Those waves don’t look good,” Rusel said to me. When I went to consult with Moon about my last day on the fast, he said that I should move my last colonic up from 3:00 to 1:00 so we could leave earlier. I wasn’t too concerned but agreed that this was probably the best course of action.

“Big wave!” Moon said as he looked out to the ocean. I followed his gaze and realized he wasn’t kidding – they were huge. Wave after wave pummeled onto shore and nobody was swimming. The waves were so big that the pond separating the resort side from the spa side was full and each wave went up over the sand and put even more water in. It was overflowing.

After my colonic (fun, fun….I’ve spared you the details), Rusel and I packed up and headed off. Our plan, and the plan that everyone at the Sanctuary recommended, was to hike over to the next beach and catch a slightly-larger and sturdier fiberglass boat from there. The fiberglass boats were apparently sturdier and able to withstand the waves. Many people had left throughout the morning to do the same thing; we figured it was a sure bet.

We said goodbye, with lots of hugs all around. As we were leaving, Peggy, one of the people who works at the spa side of the Sanctuary and really helped me through the fast, gave us a worried look.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take the truck? It leaves at 4:00. All of these people are waiting for it….maybe you should take it?” she asked us. Another resort on the beach has a truck that leaves three times a day for Hat Rin and it was leaving soon, it was now 3:00.

But once Rusel and I get an idea in our head, it’s hard to change our minds. We didn’t want to take the truck – it would be uncomfortable and take forever. There were also about ten people waiting for it, and it was just one small truck. Everyone would be squeezed in like sardines. We said no, we were going to take our chances with the boat.

The hike to the next beach was pretty taxing. I hadn’t eaten in five days, it was sweltering hot and there were thirsty mosquitoes everywhere. Within about ten minutes of starting I already had three huge bites on my right arm. I didn’t want to put mosquito repellant on because I was detoxing but I finally said to hell with it and covered myself from head to toe.

We hiked up the cliff and then down through winding, slippery pathways only to be told that we came down the wrong path and we had to backtrack a bit back up the cliff and then head down to the beach. The small wooden bridge that connected the cliff to the beach was wobbly and was hit with huge waves that hit at our feet. The man at the restaurant on the cliff who gave us directions to the beach had told us that their wooden pier had been swept to sea that morning.

Once we got to the end of the bridge there was a maze of rocks that we had to run through – with our backpacks, no less – to get to the beach. Rusel went first and was fine, but I wasn’t sure about the timing. I had to time it between the waves and I was exhausted. Rusel finally shouted, “GO!” and I ran for it, but lost my flip-flop! There was nothing I could do. It was gone. The wave grabbed it and it was a goner.

Once we were safely on the beach, we caught our breaths and looked around. All of the fiberglass boats we were told would be shuttling people back and forth from Hat Rin were beached; their drivers standing around, smoking cigarettes and staring at the ocean. The waves were just as big, if not bigger, on this beach. We saw two other tourists speaking to the boat drivers that were gathered together and we walked up to them in hopes of getting some more information and perhaps getting a boat with them. The more people, the less each person had to pay.

“Are you guys getting a boat to Hat Rin?” we asked the woman.

“No, these boats aren’t leaving. I don’t think that any boats have left from here all day,” she said.

Damn! Rusel and I looked at each other, beginning to realize that we might not be making it to Hat Rin. We had said no to the last truck leaving from the Sanctuary. But then I realized that it left at 4:00 – there was still time to head up to the road behind the beach and catch the taxi as it drove past to Hat Rin. Peggy had told us that if we had any problems, we should walk to the road as the truck also stopped in Hat Yuan, the beach we were now at.

Rusel and I had a few heated moments where we frustratingly tried to figure out what to do. I wanted to walk back to the road immediately, Rusel wanted to ask around and figure out if this was the best thing to do. I just saw this as wasting time. It was already 3:50 and we didn’t know where the road was or how far we had to walk. Some Thai people in touristy areas are notorious for giving you information that is fiscally advantageous for them as everyone makes a commission and is naturally out to make a buck. Having been victim to some scams in the past, I didn’t want to waste any of our valuable time.

In the end, we decided to hike straight back to the road. Hiking with our backpacks before was difficult, now it was nearly impossible. I seriously have no idea where I was garnering the strength from as I hadn’t eaten anything in so long and now I only had one shoe! But somehow we made it to the road. Rusel went up ahead to scout. He yelled down to me that the road was there and I should keep hiking. When I finally got to the road I looked to my left and Rusel was lying in the middle of the road. I panicked.

“RUSEL! Are you okay!” I shouted. I thought that maybe he had passed out from heat stroke.

“Relax, I’m fine,” he said to the sky, without moving even his head to look at me. “What time is it?”

I looked at my watch. It was 4:01. There was no way we had missed the truck as it left from the Sanctuary at 4:00 and it was at least a ten-minute drive. We were fine.

I lied down on the road as well but soon found myself consumed once again by the damn mosquitoes. About ten minutes went by, then fifteen. I began to worry. Was there some way that we had missed the truck? Was that even possible?

Rusel began to get concerned as well and he decided to hike up over the hill that connects Hat Thian (the Sanctuary beach) to Hat Yuan (the beach we had hiked to). He was gone about five minutes and then I saw his head appear over the hill again and he came walking dirt road.

“What did you find out?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “But there is a fork in the road before the hill.”

Damn. What were we going to do? Maybe the truck didn’t come down to the road behind the beach where we were but went straight to Hat Rin? It was 4:20, we had just a little over an hour to get to Hat Rin and it was at least a 45-minute drive there. If the truck didn’t come soon then we were in big trouble. There were no other cars on the road; it isn’t really used because it is so inconvenient. We sat and waited to see if we could even hear a car motor in the distance. Nothing.

Soon, two blond-haired, smiling guys approached us on the road.

“Hello, mates! What are you guys doing?” they asked. I could tell by their accents that they were Australians and their happy faces made me forget our troubles for a moment.

We explained the situation to them, and they looked at each other and back at us in sympathy.

“I think that your only option is to take one of the boats,” one of them said. “Come on, we’ll help you with your bags.”

Rusel looked at me.

“Alexis,” he said. He only says my full name when he is angry or when he is going to say something really important. “I think that they’re right. That’s really the only way we’re going to make it,” he said.

I was scared to death. The waves were crazy. None of the boats were leaving. Rusel can’t even swim! Was it worth it, just to make a flight? Shouldn’t we just miss our flight and reschedule? I was torn. I wanted to make the flight as well but at the end of the day it wasn’t worth the risk to me. But Rusel and the Australians had already decided; it was done. One of them had already disappeared down the mountain, towards the beach, to begin negotiating with the boatmen on our behalf.

The other grabbed one of my bags, smiled at me, and started down the hill to the beach. Rusel and I looked at each other and starting going as well. When we reached the bottom of the hill, he took a right off to a different path to the beach than we had taken before.

“Have you guys been this way before? It’s a shortcut,” he said. We followed, but as I walked along I looked down and noticed that the entire path was filled with glass. And I still didn’t have one shoe. At that point, I almost broke down in tears but then, I almost laughed. How much worse could this journey possibly get?

Well, I was about to find out. We emerged from the path to the beach (me without stepping on any glass, miraculously) and the guy who had run up ahead came up to us.

“I’ve already arranged everything. They’ll take you for four hundred baht each. Is that okay?” he asked.

Rusel and I looked at each other. It was about $25 US. At that point, it wasn’t about the price anymore. It was about whether or not I was going to get in that boat.

“Fine,” Rusel said decidedly.

I looked at the waves again, which looked even worse than before – perhaps because I knew I would soon be facing them. I looked at Rusel.

“I don’t want to do this,” I said. Partly because I really didn’t want to do it and was scared to death, partly because I wanted to be sure that it was on the record that I said beforehand that it was a horrible idea. It wasn’t so much that I feared for my own life, it was more about the expensive laptops that we were carrying, Rusel’s camera, and Rusel’s life. The guy can’t swim!

“We’re doing it,” he said. “Put your stuff in the boat.”

As he turned to talk to the boatmen, a guy on the beach came up to me with a worried look on his face.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked. “You’re not taking a boat out, are you? Not one boat has left all day. You really shouldn’t do it—the waves are too dangerous.”

The wheels were already in motion. A crew of Thai people as well as tourists from the beach had gathered around the boat to push us off. Rusel and I climbed in and looked ahead. The boatmen, the Australians, and a small group of other people waited until just the right moment between waves, pushed us off, and our ride began.

“Getting out past the beach break will be the worst part,” one of the Australians said to us before we got in. “Once you get past that, you will be fine.”

Before we knew it, we were past the beach break, but unfortunately we weren’t fine. It was worse. The waves were pummeling the boat, which rocked back and forth, up and down. I didn’t know where to look. If I looked ahead, I saw another huge wave coming at us and I became terrified. If I looked behind, the suspense of not knowing what was coming was killing me, as well as the huge waves behind. When I looked at the man driving the boat I became even more frightened. He had a worried, yet determined look on his face.

I can honestly say that it was the most frightened that I have ever been in my life. What would I do when the boat overturned? It was no longer “if,” it was “when.” Rusel can’t swim so I naturally would have to try to find him and save him. We had no life vests. We would lose thousands of dollars worth of stuff. But most of all, I could possibly lose Rusel.

These thoughts were racing through my mind and I started to completely panic. I looked over at Rusel and he was holding onto the seat in front of us so hard that his knuckles were white. His face was green.

“Rusel, talk to me,” I said, fearing that these were our last moments together. “I am freaking out and I need you to talk me through this.”

“Lex, get a grip. I can’t talk right now. Just look ahead,” he said.

There was so much I wanted to say to Rusel. How much I love him. How happy I am that we’ve had this time together these past few months. How it annoys me that he always makes the bed before we leave a hotel room because the maids have to come and take the bedspread off to remove the sheets anyway, but that it’s also really endearing. How sometimes I yell at him and give him a hard time, but he’s the kindest, most amazing person in the whole wide world.
But instead, I grabbed a hold and looked ahead. Each new wave and each rise and fall was excruciating to the point that I became numb all over.

Somehow, we made it around the bend and could see the next beach – Hat Rin. Once we were going with the waves instead of against them, things were a little bit better. Before I knew it, we were on shore and we both jumped out. Two girls that we had befriended at the Sanctuary were on the beach and happened to see us jumping out and came up to us.

“You guys took the boat? I can’t believe it. We heard that one overturned today,” one of them said. Rusel and I were still in so much shock that neither of us could even speak. We just looked at them. They helped us take our bags off the beach – we must’ve looked horrible to evoke such sympathy. I still didn’t have a shoe.

We still had to walk through the town of Hat Rin to get to the pier to catch the ferry to Ko Samui. It was about 5:00, we had time and we had made it. We walked slowly through town. When we arrived at the ferry and bought and paid for our tickets, Rusel set his bag down, got down on the ground, and kissed it “Pope-style.”

We made the ferry but unfortunately the waves were just as bad on the way to Ko Samui. It was better, though, because we were on a bigger boat so it was less frightening, but still scary. When we finally reached Ko Samui, Rusel and I were completely shell-shocked.

We were wet, tired, and I still didn’t have a shoe. I bought some flip-flops. We found a hotel room and had a hot shower. We went out to dinner at a restaurant on the beach and Rusel ordered a pizza, I broke my fast with a big plate of fresh papaya.

I thought that breaking the fast would be the most monumental thing of the day, but in the end just being alive, with Rusel, on the beach was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Where is the Bloody Meat?

Editor's note: Below, find Rusel's thoughts on his days as a vegetarian:

Oh, How I loathe that word: “Vegetarian”

The rumors are true.

I have done the impossible.

I went 4 days without eating cow, pig, chicken, or tuna. Many of my fellow meat lovers begged me not to do it-- not to cross to the other side --but I comforted them with my soft voice and told them calmly:

“Don’t worry, I will never betray our ways, I am doing this as a gesture as I am just supporting Lex in her fast.”

They pleaded, but my mind was set. No meat, caffeine or alcohol. Gone were my sinful ways for a few days…

The latter two did not really bother me, but those who know me know probably not a day has passed that I have not gone a day without succulent meat since… well, since my mother’s womb. My family’s main dietary component was hamburger and while I have since expanded my menu to include the likes of the tasty loins of pigs and lamb I have always enjoyed taking part in chewing up the animal kingdom one bite at a time. How could I possibly accomplish this vegetarian task? This is what I am known for, eating meat… who would I become?

Well, before I divulge the end result let me share a little secret that I have shared with very few; however, I will admit it publicly now: I have always secretly wished on some level to be vegetarian (gasp, take it back!). This is largely due to the abhorrent treatment of animals. I am perfectly aware of what McDonalds does to their meat (I read Fast Food Nation, although I have never admitted it!) and I am sadly aware of many of the conditions that exist on current farms. I am also aware that many times you are not even eating what you think you are -- meat is often pumped with hormones and other various chemicals. Sadly, we are hardly eating the same meat our great ancestors did when they hunted down that unsuspecting grazing animal and speared it.

I also don’t really believe in the needless slaughter of life and I do think of that cute little lamb before I devour it and somewhere in the back of my head I weep for the life that I have just chewed up.

However, I also feel it is part of our humanity; we evolved eating meat. Agriculture and farming evolved for efficiency. I’ve never really found a resolution to my conflicting feelings on consuming cute little chickens. Sometimes I just enjoy a tasty little McDonalds burger. What is a guy supposed to do, police the world? Well, actually I do believe we should hold our corporations responsible and only shop where our values and the products we consume meat, uhhh. I mean meet. However the juiciness of animals escaped this paradigm struggle and I kept on chewing indiscriminately.

As the vegetarian meals passed over the course of the past four days, I decided to devour the full gambit of options on the vegetarian menu (handily, the restaurant at The Sanctuary is vegetarian). I came up with a system: for meals I loved, I would simply drop the meat. Next, I would work my way through salads, fake meat and a mixture of vegetables and fruits, ending with a veggie burger.

My normal meals like an English breakfast were still reportedly good. Although I missed the grease, I survived. Salads left me feeling still hungry, I mean, where is the rest of the meal? I would look longingly at the kitchen and imagine the steak that was simmering would be for me… but it was not and I would make a beeline for the door. Also, no matter how large the salad, I left the table hungry - lettuce is not filling no matter how you cut it.

Then came the fake meat… and I just don’t get it. I mean why? If you quit eating meat, why eat the fake crap? It does not taste or feel like the real thing. It is this weird dry pulpy substance without any of the flavor. It just made me miss the real thing. Vegetables and fruits have always been a favorite so they were not a problem, although I have to admit, I am used to them in addition to meat or used as a condiment.

So my days pretty much went like this:

Day one: Sadness, no meat.

Day two: Oh, where is my meat! I need it sooo badly.

Day three: Dear God, give me my %&^*% meat! I need meat! I am the meat master.

Day four: Hallucinations – Coo Coo, I am a rooster.

Joking aside I was actually fine for the whole time. I did not find it difficult at all. Did it make me feel better? No, I really felt the same. No caffeine meant I was a little lazy in the afternoon sometimes, but I still woke up before seven every morning.

Will I go vegetarian? No, I still don't anticpate it. Did I resolve my mixed feelings? No, but maybe I will seek out more organic meat on a constant basis. In the end it is not as horrible as I thought and all meals did not feel like snacks. But it did make me realize that you can just do a bagel with egg and cheese versus a bagel with egg, cheese and sausage.... so maybe I will also pass on the meat occasionally.

To Have Hair or Not to Have Hair, That Is The Question

Finally, it is done! Gone are the long days of Redbeard and any other strange version of Rusel that came out as he slowly shaved off that animal on his face! Have you ever wondered what handsome devil laid below that facial hair? Now we all know.

I was not even sure what to expect myself as I am not positive I have even seen Rusel completely shaven. But here he is and I have to say, I am not even sure I recognize him.

These pictures are posted by popular reader demand. Behold, Rusel!

It's Fun To Stay At The....

While I was on the big trek near Pai, I met an international mustachioed mystery man.

He had a very interesting past: first, he hit the beat as a cop; next, he was in a well-known 1970’s group band; finally, he led a charming existence on the island of Hawaii solving crimes and driving a Ferrari 308 GTS, hanging out at the King Kamehameha Club and riding around in helicopters with his best friend, T.C.

His name was Tom Sellecka and he definitely solved some crimes in the jungle…..like, “Why did I pack so much, could you please carry it for me?” (the answer: no), The mystery of how long roosters will cock-a-doodle-doo in the morning (the answer: about four hours) and “Is King Jack really the King of Whales?” (the answer: no).

Tom lives a "dream" lifestyle: he comes and goes as he pleases; works only when he wants to, has the almost unlimited use of babes and cars. He also seems to have endless supply of cheap beer and cheesy seventies poses with his mustache.

Enjoy these dashing pictures of Tom Sellecka thinking about his past life on the beat, pondering some old dance moves to “YMCA” and solving crimes involving heiresses and Higgins.

The Day I Met Chuck

Today, I decided to head up to Pai, and Rusel.....didn't.

On the bus up, I met a guy named Chuck. For the third day in a row, I have crossed paths with a man with amazing facial hair. I guess sometimes when you're traveling, these strange things happen.

Chuck was definitely a badass. He talked lovingly of his "hog," bar room brawls and shady women. His nickname was Knucklehead of the Popes of Hell, MC and I could see the scars on his hands to show every punch that earned that name. Perhaps I shouldn't have liked Chuck as much as I did, but there was something familiar about him that I couldn't quite place.

Where was Chuck from? Where was he going? It was all a mystery. As soon as we arrived in Pai, he disappeared as quickly as he entered my life. If you're out there reading this -- be careful, Chuck. Maybe you should consider living the "straight life" and settling down with a good woman.

Oh freedom, well freedom.....well, that's just some people talking. Your prison is walking through this world all alone.

Here's some pictures of Chuck, taken before he rode off into the sunset. On his motorbike.

Chuck wasn't quick with a smile. Because he was mean.

Even the Buddhas were afraid of Chuck.

Before he left me on the streets of Pai, he spit on the ground and then allowed me to take a picture  My hands shook as I took the shot.

Chuck rode off in a blaze of glory. On his motorbike. He's not the kind of guy I want to cross paths with again in a dark alley. Or even a well-lit one.

Goodbye, Chuck! Enjoy your life on the road.

Say Hello (And Goodbye) to Jared

Today, Rusel and I decided to go our separate ways in Chiang Mai. He wanted to go to an art museum; I wanted to hit the sights. On my way to Warorot Market, I saw a Starbucks and decided to stop in and have a cappuccino, just for the novelty of it.

While I was enjoying my caffeine rush, a nice looking man with incredibly interesting “chops” approached me and struck up a conversation. His name was Jared and here’s his basic story. He recently was dumped by his girlfriend back home; the “great love of his life.” He gave up everything -- including his job as a bartender in Milwaukee and his beloved gremlin -- and decided to head to the east to begin a journey seeking enlightenment. He used the words “dude” and talked about being “one with the world” quite frequently – perhaps too frequently for my tastes, but what can you say. His interesting authentic Thai/Burmese outfit also intrigued me.

Jared seemed like a nice guy, and his fascinating facial hair really sold me. It has been a long time since I have seen a man pull off the “Elvis/Hipster/Scary 70’s Porn Star” look so fashionably and with so much flair. We spent the day together and I had a great time. Please enjoy the photos I took of Jared during our day together.

Jared enjoys his cuppa Joe at Starbucks.

It was the lavish sideburns which really made Jared stand out from the crowd.

And the interesting shirt.

Jared rides his bike near Tha Phae, where yellow lanterns were hanging for a public celebration of the King's birthday.

Jared seeks inner peace and understanding.

Jared talks to a monk.

Jared thinks that all living things are "one." He lovingly caresses a prickly cactus. Because he's sensitive like that.

I left Jared as he took a nap underneath a tree in a park. Nice knowing you, Jared!

Say Goodbye to Boris.

“Goodbye, Boris.”

So…it has been well-chronicled on the blog that I have been traveling with a stranger lately. Where has my beloved gone – he of not-so-hairy face? I left him in Moscow, and haven’t seen him since.

In Moscow, Rusel left town and a new fellow entered my life: Boris. Complete with Russian accent, stern disposition and yes…..the beard. It is cold in Siberia; the beard helped him to stay warm, frighten mean taxi drivers and basically just help him be the best Russian he could be.

But now, we are in Thailand. Sunny skies, friendly smiles. And heat. Oh, the heat. Sadly Boris left town last night to head back to the “Mother Country,” as he so lovingly calls it while looking at the picture of Lenin in his wallet.

But before Boris left town, he had one last day of traveling in Bangkok. He woke up, had some vodka for breakfast, bought himself a “Same Same But Different” t-shirt (the Khao San Road rite of passage for all Western tourists purchased after he exchanged all of his rubles into baht), put that baby on and ventured out. He had a fun time at Wat Phra Kaew, Thailand’s most famous temple. Then, he headed back to the hotel and suddenly, he was gone.

We have chronicled Boris’ last day in Thailand, please enjoy.

Boris and his vodka-belly stand in the middle of the famed Khao San Road.

Boris at a temple.

Boris posing. Do not mess with Boris.

This guard at the palace did not mess with Boris. Boris also did not mess with him.

Boris is the same, same. But he is different.

До скорой встречи, Boris!

A Chinese Cinderella Story

Once Upon a Time.....In A Land Far, Far Away......

Our hero, Redbeard, is distraught. Every day he must wear the same worn-out, Dirty Gray Hoodie. Even though it has the proper Michael Jackson-style zippers here and there to proclaim his stylishness to the world, it now has several small holes in the right sleeve, it has a repugnant smell and his amazing girlfriend, Princess Lex, is becoming embarrassed to be seen wit Redbeard and Dirty Gray Hoodie in public.

A decision is made: the sweatshirt has to go. But how? And what will Redbeard wear to keep him warm?

Princess Lex and Redbeard search high and low in Shanghai. Unfortunately, Redbeard is much bigger than the average Chinese man. And Redbeard has decidedly different taste than the average Chinese man. What to do, what to do?

Then, one day in the French Concession, Redbeard and Princess Lex stumble upon their guilty pleasure: The Holy H&M Castle.

Rejoicing throughout the Traveling Duo Kingdom!

Redbeard before his sad parting with Dirty Gray Hoodie…..

Redbeard sadly saying goodbye to Dirty Gray Hoodie and wishing him all the best in his future life, wherever and whatever that may be.

Redbeard after his shopping extravaganza in The Holy H&M Castle…..Redbeard emerges a triumphant new man worthy of the company of Princess Lex.

A Happy Ending...

As Princess Lex and Redbeard are (naturally) photographing everything for future posterity, a Chinese trash-picker comes and takes Dirty Gray Hoodie away. As a trash picker herself back in the Kingdom of New York City where she sometimes resides, Princess Lex feels a special kinship with the trash-picker and happy that Dirty Gray Hoodie lives on.

And there is happiness throughout the Traveling Duo Kingdom!

Asked & Answered

What is up with Rusel’s beard?

The beard has grown in slowly -- or maybe it’s because I spend every waking moment with Rusel and so I didn’t notice it come in. I didn’t give it much thought until everyone started e-mailing me about it.

Many theories abound: in Perth, where Krista is from, the men grow beards in November to support "Mouvember"………….where basically every man and his dog (and old Italian ladies if they have the urge) try to grow a moustache for the 30 days of November. It is all very tongue in cheek and it’s all for a good cause as people raise money for Prostate Cancer (this from Krista, thanks!).

Cheryl in Nebraska thinks it looks “very handsome,” (Editor’s note: extremely biased source who wouldn’t be surprised if Rusel woke up tomorrow morning and walked on water.)

The beard suited Rusel well in Russia, where it was freezing and kept his face warm. It has also earned him a new nickname: “Redbeard.” For some reason, it is growing in red! I guess I could also call him “Rusty,” although he doesn’t seem to like that at all.

Rusel’s answers:

1. It’s a “traveling beard.” (I have no idea what this means, talk amongst yourselves.)
2. I don’t like to shave.
3. I’m not working.
4. It is weather-appropriate. We traveled through Russia in winter. Enough said.

Rusel tells me that he will probably shave it off in warmer climates to come. Stay tuned.

How are you and Rusel getting along?

To be honest, before Rusel and I met up I was slightly anxious. We had been apart for three months, one of which I was traveling on my own and doing my own thing completely. How would it be, after not seeing each other for three months, to spend every day together?

Yesterday as we were waiting for the subway in Beijing to go to the Lama temple, we did the math and figured out that by the end of this trip, we will have spent the same amount of time together that we usually spend together in one year. So in three months time we’ll have spent a normal year’s worth of time together.

And it’s going great. Like any normal couple, we have moments (which sometimes even span out into “uncomfortably long moments,” and – rarely -- “ten minute breaks”) but for the most part it’s going really well. Rusel is an extremely patient man.

Strangely, we rarely do separate things even though we do have separate interests in our everyday lives. It’s just easier and more fun to do things together. Today, I was tired in the afternoon so I went back to the hostel to take a nap and Rusel hit up a museum on his own, but this is the first time this has happened since St. Petersburg. So on the whole, all is well.

I would say, on average, that Rusel makes me laugh out loud (the kind that makes my belly hurt and sometimes even ends with a snorting noise) at least once a day.

Are you going to run away and get married by a Tibetan monk?

I don’t think that Tibetan monks perform wedding ceremonies. ☺ And anyway, we’d have to sneak into Tibet to do it…..although now that I think about it, that does sound romantic……..although probably not legal and binding in the end. Everyone can learn a lesson from Mick Jagger.

How’s the money situation?

Well, Russia kind of drained us. Moscow was expensive, but we were prepared for that. However, everything else in Russia was expensive as well. And admittedly, we’re a little bit too old to be the stereotypical backpackers. Many people really rough it and sleep in the “bunks” in the hostels but Rusel and I don’t do that.

We were staying at “cheap” hotels in Russia but found that they were slightly isolating and not as friendly. As much as we want the most authentic experience possible, it’s also nice to be tapped into a community of travelers so we can swap information and just talk to some friendly people. So, since Irkutsk in Russia, we have been staying at hostels and enjoying it much more.

The hostels that we have been staying at have private doubles, which are just fine and comparatively not that much more than the open rooms. For instance, at the hostel we’re staying at right now in Shanghai, a bunk bed is 50 yuan each (so it would be 100 yuan/$13 US total for the two of us), and our room is 200 yuan ($26 USD). So we could be doing it cheaper, but this is pretty cheap as it is. It really just depends on how you look at it.

Many people we met along the way also traveled platskartny on the trains. This is the train car where all of the bunk beds are open, like one big dorm. Although that did seem to have its advantages – cheaper, and easier to meet other travelers – Rusel and I felt like kupe was roughing it enough. We also have laptops and Rusel has a nice camera and so we kind of are always keeping an eye on these things, which would’ve been more difficult in that car.

So Russia was a budget-buster, but Mongolia was cheaper and China cheaper even still. Japan is going to be expensive, but we’re only there for ten days. Thailand is cheap cheap cheap and in Australia we’ll be with Krista’s family so that shouldn’t be too bad either. We’re definitely watching our cash flow (only flowing one way at this point, sadly), but our kidneys aren’t on ebay….yet.

Are you sick of the red coat and hat yet?

A resounding YES! should now be heard throughout the land. I am still struggling with what will happen to my winter wear once we hit Thailand.

As anyone who has traveled with me or has visited my apartment knows, I grow attached to inanimate objects for sentimental reasons. When I was six, I saved our old, broken hair blow-drier from the trashcan because I felt sorry for it. So although you may not see any more pictures of them soon, they will probably live on. Maybe we will mail our winter stuff home? But then, that feeds into the above question….so who knows.