In rural Thailand, the rain falls in thick silver sheets and mixes with the ruddy dirt into torrents of curry-colored water.Flowing fast through the ultra green foliage, I am reminded of places I have not yet been.

Still, in the pouring rain, brave Thais soldier on upon tired scooters, braving both the rain and the slick road.Others rest under roofs of corrugated steel, immune to only one element.How clear the air must be and how safe the jungle.Or how hearty must be the Thais.

We amble in the considerable safety of the climate-controlled van through the lean-tos and salesmen of random hubcaps, through places advertising scooter repair and the tastes of home (Coke!Pepsi!).I long to rest lazily under a roof of corrugated steel, but pass instead to the gated comfort of my resort hotel.

How hearty must I be.


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