XXII. The End of the Trail, Part Three

What with Jim here and all, the Jungle Adventure Tour Company really didn’t need me anymore. I started thinking maybe it was time to move on. As impossible as it seemed, I had grown tired of the jungle. It wasn’t much of an adventure anymore. I jumped off enough waterfalls, hiked enough trails, and been charged by enough elephants. It had become a job. We’d drive past the bush, we’d hear the crunching and stop, elephants would come out, we’d watch them, always stay too long, the elephants would get sick of us, they’d chase us off, then we’d go look for more animals. Anything after a while can become drudgery.

Maybe I would go to Vietnam. It was just opening up to tourism at the time.* Travelers occasionally came through and told all kinds of exciting stories. It sounded exotic, maybe even dangerous. It was Vietnam, after all. Or I might go to one of those silent meditation retreats down south. It would be different, a challenge, to say the least – not speaking for ten days, only meditating, sleeping on stone beds. Then I could pop on over to Koh Phan-gnan in time for the Full Moon Party, cover myself in Day-Glo paint trip the night away.

I got excited just thinking about it. The decision was made. The where would work itself out.

I told Tom and Maow over breakfast. I was getting a little sentimental over my rice porridge, “I want you both to know that I’m very grateful and I appreciate how you’ve taken me in like family, but it’s just time to move on, you know?”

“Sure,” Tom wiped the last remaining porridge out of his bowl with his finger, “that’s no problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be right away. If you get busy, I can stay on another week or two…”

“No, that’s okay, we have Jim” Maow said as she cleared the table and went into the kitchen.

Tom took the Bangkok Post and went to the bathroom. I sat at the table and convinced myself that long, sentimental goodbyes were probably not the Thai way. Probably a Buddhist non-attachment thing. I didn’t think I would be leaving so fast. I was really leaving. Nothing was stopping me. There was nothing left to do, so I went to my room to pack up. As I left the Jungle Adventure Tour Company compound for the last time, I passed Jim playing hacky-sack.

“See ya.”

Either he knew and didn’t care, or didn’t know and didn’t notice my backpack. I didn’t particularly care either way. “Yup,” I replied, my version of the Thai goodbye.

I walked to the train station in town. I took off my backpack and sat down on a bench by the tracks, waiting for the next taste of Tuna Fish Ice Cream.



* This was 1992. My apologies to any of those readers who thought this story takes place present day.