Welcome to Thailand

My first job was teaching--I was about eight years old introducing such lexis as "dog" and "cat" to my three-year-old brother Nate on a small slate blackboard that dated from my Dad's childhood. By the time Nate reached Kindergarten he was leisurely reading works by Nabakov and Dostoevsky; he learned to play the piano and guitar and now fronts a Boston rock band when he's not performing research at MIT. The only logical conclusion is that I'm a great teacher. Now let's see what I can do for the rural, tsunami-impacted villages along the north Andaman coast of Thailand.

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I told you I was going to start this blog before I left California. Maybe I even promised you the simple courtesy of a thank-you note for supporting me with donations, storage space, mail forwarding, advice, or encouragement. I vowed I'd keep my karmic balance in check. But one distraction begets another--oh blissful rain on the window pane that last morning--and I found myself frantically packing the last of my things a mere five hours before my flight to Bangkok, as the gracious woman driving me to San Francisco airport and the wise-cracking bloke taking over my room patiently waited. Three weeks later and I'm still struggling to catch up. Please forgive me--I don't love or appreciate you any less.

I'm not going to put either of us through the odious task of recapping the past three weeks. Instead, think of this as a movie you walked into twenty minutes late because you got caught up in a philosophical debate outside the theater with a homeless person about the ramifications of passing Hubbert's peak on population dynamics (you never could pass up a friendly exchange on this topic). Take a deep breath and settle into your comfy seat and let the buttery goodness of that tub of popcorn coat your esophagus and soothe your insides (You glutton, you!). You'll figure out the plot and maybe even stick around to see how it ends. I'll try and make it worth your while.

Welcome to Thailand.