Susan Orlean, author of "The Orchid Theif" (which was made into per haps the most post-modern movie of all times - Adaptation) has written about the setting for this entry. She goes on in her rambling way that makes me think, "Hell, I could be a staff writer for The New Yorker." But when, 13 hours later, I've almost made it to the bottom of her article, I realize that I probably don't have her staying power. Or, considered another way, I've actually discovered someone in the world who is worse than me at making decisions about what goes in and what stays out.

Anyway, go have a gander at this Article about Khao San Road.

I was feeling kind of overwhelmed or depressed by Khao San. Susie's article helped a little - in that it allowed me to focus on what Khao San really is. So last night, when I saw something that offered the chance of expanding this definition into something that I like a little better, I ducked between the plastic sheets suspended in front of an empty lot and joined something a little different. Amidst the rubble there, a group of Thais were seated on a piece of plywood in a sort of Beyond Thunderdome drum circle. They were very excited about having some white dude join in from off the street.

It was required that I share in the beer, which was shared from two plastic mugs filled with ice. Ice! And, even worse for my Karma, I was required to share in a few bites of their spicy beef and later a bit of steak. But it was a fair price to pay for an evening of Thai songs and drumming with bits of rubbish from around the site. Every few songs, they would stop and start yelling "You sing one song!" I couldn't remember any words for some reason, and they would do things to frustrate me like yelling "tick tock tick tock..." while I was trying to think. I think Waltzing Matilda with a ke-chak breakdown in the middle was my biggest success.

By the end of the night, I had bought 5 Big Changs (the Thai equivalent of a 40 oz.) from the local 7-eleven. I found out that these Thai men all seemingly preferred Japanese women to Thai (no good explanation given). We had all gotten up and danced around like idiots. And, as is the case with any worthwhile social event, the police came and broke it up.

When I did this kind of thing in Australia, they told me their word for it - it's called Punting. We welcomed everyone else who poked their head in, but they weren't ready to punt. Are you?