Date: Sun, 27 May 2001 10:56:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jay Schneider
Subject: Is this the end??
I had a bit of a hammock mishap.
I know, I know, it’s an overdone scene, a tired tale. You’ve all witnessed the man vs. hammock battle countless times, if not in person, then on t..v., probably involving Jon Ritter. But my injury did not come from my ineptitude at proper hammock mounting. On the contrary, I believe I am quite experienced and skilled in the ways of the swinging, net cradle (er, as the scholarly like to call it). I even have my own. I’ve never actually used it, but that’s not the point. Or maybe it is, considering if I had set up my own, I may not be wasting your time with this little blurb now. See, each time I’ve reached a beach bungalow, riverside balcony, or a mountain cottage that just screams ‘set up your hammock and lay in it all day long,’ there’s always been a hammock already in place. Upon finding a suitable bungalow on the island of Koh Pha-ngan, I again found a hammock ready and waiting for me on the porch. But this hammock was a good 4 feet off the ground, and nothing around to step up on, or hold on to and assist my mounting. After attempting several various methods, I finally found a way that, while a bit awkward as it resembled an Olympic gymnastics routine, I seemed to find success. Reaching as high up the rope end of the hammock as I could with my right hand, then placing my left hand on the bunched up hammock-to-be part, I kicked my right leg up and over, so that I landed on the hammock (at this point, still essentially just a thick rope), and I quickly had all my four points on the line. This not being a very stable position, I immediately used my feet to spread out the netting and begin to create a stable cradle. During this bit, my right arm is still awkwardly stretched out above and behind me, the only secure hold I have, but not a balanced one at all. Once my feet have made a bit of a cradle, it’s necessary to use my hands to further stretch the hammock out, to achieve a proper, resting place. This is a critical time in which I’m still essentially just sitting on a thick rope, but I must let go with my anchor (right) arm, and very steadily use both hands to finish the job. (There’s a move I did which would’ve made my high school wrestling coach proud, where I bridge up on my neck, raising my bum in the air so I can spread the hammock with my hands–it was really cool) For a few moments, perfect balance is required, and though I’d thought I’d gotten this part down, I guess I got cocky and ‘whump!’ on the ground was I.
My hands broke the fall, and before I hit the ground, my instincts took over and prioritized the situation. First, did anyone see me? My second, concern was my left leg, still in the hammock, toes entangled in the net. No pain or problem as I lay face down, but not being as flexible as I was in my days of martial arts, I’m not sure that when I stand up, my hamstring will appreciate it. I did stand up without problem (no small task, standing up on one leg), freed my toes from their captor, released my leg, and flashed the “ok” sign and a smile to the Thai girl who witnessed the whole thing.
It wasn’t until later that I noticed strange red marks on my arm. At first, I thought it was a stain, but they wouldn’t rub off, and it appeared some sort of slight bruising, probably some broken capillaries as my arm scraped off the hammock. While eating dinner, a German guy asked about my arm: “What’s that?”
“Oh, this? It’s, er, It’s a Hammock Hickey” (end of story)
So here I am in Bangkok enjoying the final hours of my Asian Adventure and sending out to you my final update.
It’s a lot of pressure, really, and I’ve been fretting for weeks on how to wrap this all up. I feel it’s a bit like the final ‘Seinfeld’ episode or Beverly Hills 90210, and your expectations may lead to disappointment.
I had thought about going for a ‘hi-lights collage’ of the past ten months (accompanied by nostalgic music, to add tears to your smiles–and it’d all be in slow motion ). But I’m sure you’ve all re-read each installment countless times already, and I think you deserve something new.
Another option would be to give you ‘out-takes’ and bits that didn’t make the final cut (that wild and crazy night I stayed in my room and played solitaire, for example), but I should keep some things private (lest the authorities find out), and I need to have some stories left to tell in the years to come without you cutting me off with “Jay, you’ve already told us about that time in Dharamsala you ate something bad and puked all over yourself as you walked home.”
Then there’s the ‘bloopers’ option: When writing about my hatred of donut-stealing monkeys (‘Beware the Monkeys’, India, December 2000) I accidentally typed ‘MONKEY-STEALING donuts’.
I could share with you some of the lessons I’ve learned through my experiences here: don’t believe that junk the media and our governments would have us believe about roosters crowing at the crack of dawn. I can attest they start way, way, way before there’s even a hint of light, and go all day long (and then some). More like CROCK-a-doodle-doo, if you ask me.
But instead I’ll just ramble on for a bit, and let’s just see where we end up, shall we?
As my time (and money) rapidly diminished, I had to carefully consider how to best use my time (and money). From the beginning, my plan (yes, dammit! there’s always been a plan…) was to spend the final portion of my trip on the islands, doing nothing but, well…being on the islands. The purpose of this idea was two-fold. One, it would provide me with a period of reflection for me and also an opportunity to look ahead and prepare for my future (reading up on American culture, perhaps studying from an American English phrasebook). The second fold (?), is so when I got back to the States and was working packing frozen chickens, or some other dismal job, I could constantly complain, “you know, one week ago I was on an island in Thailand…” At any rate, I spent nearly 3 weeks in the Gulf of Thailand, visiting the islands of Koh Tao, Koh Pha-Ngan, and Koh Samui.
As I said (typed) before, the use of my precious time deserved careful consideration, and unfortunately, time and money constraints meant I often had to choose one thing over another. Some of you may question the decisions I made. Instead of a kayak trip through the beautiful islands of the National Park (as featured in ‘The Beach’), I had an eye exam and bought a new pair of glasses. I also chose to spend money on tailor-made suits, rather than cheap women and booze. And on my final night in Bangkok, I opted to finish this update, over catching one last ping-pong show in Patpong. But I assure you, these choices were all for the greater good.
But it wasn’t all serious, being responsible and preparing for the future (‘growing up’ is the term often thrown around). I did the requisite ‘fun in the sun (and rain on occasion)’ activities. Swimming, snorkeling, hikes to waterfalls, walks on the beach, tending to additional foot wounds, and I’ve already mentioned my hammock routine. On several occasions, I got my motor running and headed out on the island-ways (lookin’ for adventure, and whatever came my way…) renting a bike to race around the islands and explore. I even got to visit the police station (on the opposite side of the island from where I was busted, and my bike impounded) to pay a fine for not wearing a helmet (who knew?) And I finally got certified to dive, taking my PADI open water course, and continuing on to the advanced class. Again, I was wise to plan (yes, this was all part of the plan) my diving stint at the end of my journey. Had I gotten into it months ago, I would’ve spent the rest of my time and money diving. Diving is an unbelievable and incredible experience, and I was introduced to a whole new world. Also, now I can make critical comments when watching movies: “It’s great the Navy seals SCUBA-ed their way into the enemy’s headquarters, rescued the hostages and were whisked away safely by airplane, but they really shouldn’t fly so soon after diving.” or “Hey! James Bond is diving without a buddy!”
And sometimes, I just sat on the porch of my bungalow, and stared out at the sea. It’s a beautiful and incredible world we live in, and I never let myself forget that.
So I made it back to Bangkok with a couple of days to spare, the master-plan calling for it. I figured my tattered T-shirts and grimey flip-flops may not get me very far in my life back home, so I needed time to go to the markets and bargain for NEW T-shirts and flip-flops. And in a totally unexpected and unplanned (see, my plan is flexible and can accommodate unforeseen happenings. A 10 month trip instead of 5, for example) turn of events, I met up with Julie again (‘Beautiful Dutch Girl’ featured in such episodes as ‘Rambo and Room Service’, Jan. 01 and ‘The Jay Luck Club’, Feb. ’01). We would have about a 4 hours window when we’d both be there, so we met for some noodle soup, and did some catching up.
It was nice, of course, to see my old travel-mate, but for me, it also helped make a proper end to my trip. Sharing our own adventures of the past few months and where our next steps would take us, in addition to exchanging gossip on other travelers and friends we both knew and had run into again, made it quite like the final minutes of a movie or t.v. show, where all the stories are wrapped up, and the minor characters are accounted for (“and remember Orlaf? well, he finally realized his dream of becoming a cricket herder…”). My point? While I can’t say I’ve given you a proper sense of closure for my time on the road, I certainly feel ready to roll credits and anxiously await the sequel.
It’s time to go home.
Am I tired of travel? Not at all. I haven’t been to a county I couldn’t easily go back to (though I won’t cry if I never see Delhi again), and I could easily spend another 10 months visiting these same countries (A serious consideration, now that I have glasses again–I mean, imagine how great Angkor Wat would look in focus, to say nothing of those erotic temple carvings!). And there are so many more countries I want to visit, I could easily fill a lifetime wandering the earth.
Too bad that’s not possible, right? Well, no, that’s not right. It actually, it IS possible. In fact, what I’ve realized over the past few years, and even more so in these 10 months, is just how much these things ARE in fact possible. It’s just a matter of deciding what you want.
But to travel forever is not what I want. I’ve got lots more I want to see and do, but no worries. Next time.
So why go home? Well, several reasons. For one, I started out on a 5 month trip, and parlayed it into 10. That’s a pretty good deal, I think. Oh yeah, and then there’s family and friends I haven’t seen for ages, and all that stuff.
But perhaps one of the strongest reasons (not forgetting family, yada-yada), is found in remembering what I want out of travel, and out of life. In my trip, as in my life, I like challenges, adventure, and keeping things interesting. I feel I’ve been doing a pretty darn good job of it over the years, but that’s no reason to rest on my tuffet. Continuing on in Asia or heading towards Africa or South America, or so many other places would certainly keep me stimulated, and perpetuate my deep living of life. But if I really want a challenge and adventure, if I want the most bizarre experience in a place that would give me the greatest culture shock, I’ve gotta go home to the U.S.A.
So what do I mean by all this, dear readers? The adventures (and misadventures) are by no means over. Fear not, pets, my Asian chapter may be closing, but the adventures will continue…
Thanks for reading my ramblings, and sharing my travels with me. I also deeply appreciate all your e-mails and messages. Please keep in touch and let me know what’s going on in your lives. Take care, enjoy life and stay tuned…
Jay “To be continued…” Schneider
——————- (optional reading) ——————-
This is to set the record straight and at least have my side presented in a fair manner.
On one of the final dives in the open water course, our instructor led us to a sandy bit of ocean floor where we removed our fins and were allowed to just play around. As we were all quite comfortable with our equipment, and we were being filmed and had a camera to play to, wackiness ensued. After getting our fill of flips, one-fingered push-ups, and Matrix/Crouching Dragon-style impossible kick/flip around/double kick again battles, the time had come, as planned, for a foot race. It is this race and what may (or may not) have happened that I should like to address. Without admitting to anything, there is no solid evidence to support the allegations that I pulled off Robin’s (or anyone else’s) mask.
— if his mask was in fact off (as he claims), his vision would have been impaired, and he cannot be expected to make an accurate identification of the attacker. — though several witnesses identified me, as we were all similarly dresses, it’s hard to make any positive ID.
— the only rules of the race were that we keep our feet in contact with the ground, and we couldn’t turn off anyone’s air. Anything else was legal, so even if I did (which I’m not saying I did), it was nothing illegal
— If I did attack Robin (and I’m not saying I did, nor do I even concede an attack occurred –perhaps he took off his own mask, eh?), he should take it as a compliment that I (or the offender) saw him as a threat.
— The video footage provides no evidence, as the view of the de-masking (if it happened) was blocked by the Swedish woman, who eventually won the event.
— Since I did not go on to win the race, my lesson (if I deserve one) should be that ‘a cheater never wins.’ But as I admit to nothing, the only thing I learned, and will now share with you is this: “I should’ve attacked the Swede.”