Eleven Months In

Eleven months is a long time. It's almost a year. But not quite.

I'm definitely on the tail end of my travels. I think I have the means to continue this incarnation of the dream for another two, maybe three, months. Actually, given the amount of credit I have at my disposal, it would be easy for me to continue for far longer but I'd rather not return home so broke that I'm immediately forced to find work as a McDonald's fry-cook or male prostitute just to score some quick cash. Not that I won't be broke in two or three months – it's merely a question of magnitude.

In the meantime I continue to up rack up travel experiences. And some of those are even new. I'll admit a new form of travel fatigue has set in – that I've developed a somewhat concerningly dismissive "seen it; done that" attitude. During my last six-week stint through South East Asia I skipped quite a few of the traveller's draws, and not because of a lack of time. I had numerous people telling me to get out to Taman Negara Park in Malaysia but I'd already hiked through rainforest in Brazil and Borneo. I wasn't exactly looking to spend more time melting my face off in the jungle – though, leaches would have been a new twist. After visiting a stupid amount of temples in Bangkok and Sukhothai, I skipped almost every temple in the rest of Thailand and Laos save for Doi Suhtep in Chiang Mai – I climbed up there more for the views from the mountain rather than the temple itself. Chiang Mai is a centre for trekking in northern Thailand, but after the Himalaya, Colca Canyon and the area around El Chalten I was honestly a little trekked out. Fortunately, Malaysia, Thailand and Laos had plenty of other stuff to fill my time.

Other things inherent in long-term travel are starting to wear on me. Like wearing the same bloody outfit over again every few days. Admittedly, part of my frustration at my limited wardrobe is due to the fact that I'm in Asia in the height of summer. If I thought the Amazon Jungle was bad, it was child's play compared to the sticky, humid, 35°C-plus daytime highs in South-East Asia. (See this blog entry from last October for my thoughts re: cold = cleanliness.) But even if clean items weren't drenched through in sweat after mere minutes of donning them, the lack of variety is still trying. Over the last eleven months, formal wear has consisted of a collared, button-down trekking shirt and a pair of long hiking pants.

Moustache

Speaking of things I'm over: I ended my four month flirtation with a moustache, just before I went into China. There were multiple reasons why it was shaved off. For starters, it was probably best that I crossed through Chinese immigration looking at least somewhat like my passport photo. Also, I was sick of the whole food-strainer aspect of the thing, and it collected sweat in hot weather like nobody's business. However, as compelling as all that was, I have to admit that the main reason for dispensing with the whiskers was one of ego. I can't grow a very good one. On top of that, it takes six-plus weeks for even semi-decent growth to come in.

No Moustache

Now, I realise that as a male of Asian descent, having full facial hair coverage might not be in the genetic cards. So I shouldn't be comparing myself to, say, Tom Selleck. Unfortunately, while dining at the best Japanese restaurant in Kathmandu with Kim and Kelly way back in April, I met the Asian version of Tom Selleck.

If Magnum P.I. was Japanese: Or This Guy is My Hero (photo courtesy of Kim and Kelly)

If I can't grow a moustache as good as that guy's, why bother?

(By the by, the goatee stays. Because I've had far longer to get used to it – since the beginning of my trip. And because I know how much it ticks Andrea off to see pictures of me with ugly facial hair.)

Related Entries:
1. Ten Months In
2. Nine Months In
3. Eight Months In