I'm in Bangkok for less than 36 hours but I have prioritized to successfully: 1) visit a temple, 2) eat spicy noodles, and 3) get a massage. That would be a fabulous day anytime, but after two days of airport floors and airplane seats it's a fucking dream.
It's actually happening, I'm going to Bhutan and hiking in the Himalayas! A month of remote mountains, tent life, no internet...sounds sort of like Alaska, but with fewer moldy vegetables. The mountains will be taller than I'm used to, the air thinner, and the company more Commonwealthy -- I just got a list of my trip-mates, and ten out of fifteen are from New Zealand and Australia.
Tomorrow is the last leg of flying and official start of the tour. But my brain is very much still in Alaska. We ended the season with a big party: pizza, old prom dresses, ping pong, dancing, an ambitious number of kegs. And then the aurora danced over the glassy lake, weaving through the stars. I enjoyed runny yolks on sourdough with tons of goat cheese and cooked for staff and helped close up the lodge. I took the skiff across the lake and waved and waved as we do, drove to Anchorage with sundry carefully packed bags, and navigated "big city" traffic to do my last chores (actually totally fine, there's like 300,000 people). And I caught my breath, or held my breath, or whatever metaphor makes sense for a few days of blissful oblivion before journeying west-west-west to the next venture.
