honkys: one, immigration: zero

I watched a movie once that was all about the true story of a climbing crew who through a series of terrible circumstances becomes separated. one of the men falls 80 or so feet, lands down an ice cave and has to pull himself up and out, then find his way back to camp which of corse is very far away through quite formitable terrain for a guy witha broken leg. As he drags himself through a field of rocks, when he is halucinating due to the pain and lack of food and water, he hears some terrible song that he never liked, repeating in his head over and over.
I'm over here, having the time of my life, and micheal bolton's "how am I supposed to live with out you?" or rod stewart's cover of "down town train" just keep coming back as loud as the sun is hot.
Luckily I've got emily's easy laugh to break up the terrible din. I also have been enjoying all the songs that sound like crappy american pop 93.3 etc, but with words that I will never discern, which is nice, so I don't have to understand the sappy sentiment.
tonight after our glorious escape from bangkok, and our 9 hour bus ride, we made it to mae sot. I almost got left by the driver at a rest stop, but em intervened as he pulled away. I guess they don't believe in giving you time to wash after you use the public rest room. ten minutes out of mae sot, atop a high mountain pass where the bus driver had been passing gasoline tankers going up hill, in the middle of lush, huge banana leaf trees, we stop. A few people get off and then an official man in an olive drab uniform wearing a dust mask over his face, boards the bus. I look out side in time to see a former passenger lose her lunch, then pan back to see the gruff officer walk back towards us. my malaria pill or the constant reading over a winding mountain pass or both combined with the sun and not enough water for fear of being left behind again has left me feeling a similar way. but there are things to pay attention to here, get your head in the game before this guy cracks your skull. He is an imigration officer. He wants passports. the guys behind us get the hassel first then he walks back up toward us, I panic and start digging for my passport, but before i can open a zipper, he just passes his hand over emily and i. Oh yeah, we are near the thai/burma border. our (still pale but not for long) skin tone is a dead give away. Honkys one, imigration zero!
yeah yeah, no photosagain but this computer is less than optimal and our time is about up. lets hope i remember to charge my camera before we go trekking.

I just tried to comment on carlee and jake's blog and realized that it is no easy feat without an account. so sorry for the crass-ness but c'mon, aren't we worth the 45 seconds?

Carlee and jake: you should write books and warn people not to drink anything while reading due to the high probability of liquid jetting out the nose. enjoy the long train ride in the cold middle of nowhere while emily and I try to say hello and thank you in this tonal language.

hugs and kisses in big fluffy pink bows,

Gavin