a muerte

Made it to Thailand! Hot dang! I’m fucking stoked, elated, proud and impressed. Stoked to be here, it’s everything I remembered and more. I’m not sure if it’s the buds but I just find it so beautiful here. The chaos, the colour, the openness. Already this morning I’ve seen a peacock and a man try to fit himself and his scooter betwixed a bus and a Ute. I didn’t think he was gonna make it, low and behold, he didn’t make it! Just wedged himself in and then waited for the Ute to move forward. Hilarious.

Elated as I am an international traveler again, this world that yearns to be adventured is mine for the taking. Look, I never really stop adventuring and many adventures were had and will be had in Oz, but when you don’t speak the same language, you can’t read what chip flavour you are getting and everyone looks quite different to you, that’s for sure and adventure.

Proud that I got myself here, proud that I am who I am, proud that I put life first and work second. Proud that I am a decent enough human for someone to allow me to housesit for a month. Proud of the energy I bring to life.

Impressed that I do this shit and I do it pretty well. I just packed my whole life into the back of a car (again), packed a backpack and carry sack for my decks, spent 10 hours in transit without a hiccup and cruised my way to a gorgeous treehouse for the night. All with relative ease and confidence. Like some motherfuckers still live with their parents, not that my journey has anything to do with theirs but dang dude, I’m impressed.

Grateful.

I say all without a hiccup, there were a few hiccups that’s almost turned into gut clearing hiccups. Note to self, just prebook the plane food. Musli bars for 5+ hours ain’t gonna crack it. Oh and drink water you dork. I mean it doesn’t help when air Asia makes you pay for water.

By the end of flight 1 arriving in KL my back was cooked from the chairs, my stomach was uncomfortable from not moving, not hydrating and not eating. Who woulda thunked it.

Eagerly I moved through the maze that is KLIA2 to find some kind of Asian deliciousness, which didn’t exist, in a food court, that also didn’t exist. Left with the option of Maccas or Burger King I succumbed to a Big Mac which did not go down smooth at all. Note to reader, they don’t give you straws as they have sippy lids, they are not bad at restocking the straw dispenser, they just don’t have them!

How to explain Kuala Lumpur airport. To steal a bit from Taylor Tomlinson, you know when you’re driving in traffic and you see the fast lane moving whilst your stopped, so you move across. Only to have the fast lane then stop, with the lane you were previously in begin to move. And then you move back again, and the fast lane speeds up! This is when you think to yourself, I must be the problem!

Well it’s like that, until you realise someone must have been watching ‘the labrynth” when designing KL airport.

What’s the point of having travellators on both sides of the walkway and both running in the same direction!

Who decided it would be a good idea to put a water bottle refill in the middle of the walkway to the toilets?

Anywho i digress, by the time the second flight came around I was feeling extra queezy. Stuck between two lads with enough leg room for mini me, looked in the seat pocket, emergency vom bag at the ready. But no one wants to be that guy! So I breathed through it, closed my eyes and tried to get distracted. Which prevailed, till the plane food came along. It’s quite amazing how much power our minds have, it wanted to win this one, but I wasn’t going to let it. Yes I hate the smell of plane food, yes I have flash backs of vomiting for 14 hours on a plane to canada. But I’ve lied to myself before and by golly I’ll most likely do it again. “You like that smell”, “just breathe through your mouth boy”. Turns out taste buds also pick up plane food in that proximity! Alas, Jamie 1, mind 0. No plane spews this time round.

I was nervous for the few days leading upto this journey, in a good way. It’s been years since I left Oz. Travelling around Australia had lots of times of discomfort and challenges, but there’s always a level of understood safety I find when traveling Aus. I speak the language, I understand the body language, I know how to get by. In Thailand this is all so foreign, pick pockets are a thing, it’s easy to get run over. And this is what excites me. I was thinking about this concept today, of being nervous before a trip, trying to recall if this happened for my other trips. Initially I didn’t think so but I realised I just didn’t allow those thoughts to exist. Just glossed over the fear. Now I understand it’s and important and healthy part of my life, I sit with fear more. Allow myself to feel it, experience it but also try not to attach to it, just witness it’s existence.

Then something settled, a day or 2 before departure it all settled. I settled. Felt centered, felt ready. Not sure if it was working fringe and meeting lots of new people that reinstated my ability to adapt into new environments?

Once I got of the plane into Bangkok I resettled. The transit was done now time for the real journey. (I’m working on this, need to find enjoyment from transit as it’s part of the journey)

I got in a cab and we managed to agree on where my air bnb was. Along the road the driver asks “why are you travelling alone, where is your girlfriend”. I chuckled hard, mainly because I found it so humorous the importance he placed on having a girlfriend, but also, why wouldn’t you travel alone? I guess I’m not the norm. (I guess, hahaha, no Jamie, you are definitely not the norm).

“I’m still looking” I said. “Why just one?”

The lovely man got me to my treehouse. A must stay if you’re solo travelling in Bangkok. Basic amenities and anything but basic scenery. Trees, bungalows, treetop benches, peacock, dog, birds, loud geckos and I think that was a rooster at 5am this morning.

Turns out Cannabis is legal in Thailand now, and pretty strong too! I found myself only a 4 minute walk away in a dispensary on the main road, smoking a $2.50 joint. It felt strange and awesome. Last time I was hear you could get the death sentence for this!

Oh did I say it was pretty strong? Well… as I walked through the night market which was closing down and I read (or didn’t read) all the signs in Thai and didn’t make out the food on the pictures. I swiftly decided that yes that weed was strong and I’m moving to safety of 7/11. Came all this way to get out of my comfort zone and couldn’t even order dinner. What a dork!

As I entered 7/11 bright lights, Thai written everywhere, everything looked so foreign and exciting. I chuckled out loud, trying to compose myself and figure out kettle dinner. You’ll be pleased to know I bought Thai snacks…

Turns out crab curry flavour chips actually SLAP.

Firstly just have to give a massive shoutout to Evan my housemate for continual lifts into town and unlimited access to his stupidly large range of snowboards.

Popped open the trunk of Anthony’s car to throw in my snowboard and of course there's a stunning swedish gal sitting in the passenger's seat. How could this day get any better?

The time was just after 5pm. The sun was nestling into the mountains, the skies were clear and the car had a hum of excitement. After a 10 minute drive we were parked at the base of the nels nelson ski jump on Mount Revelstoke. The ski jump, built in 1917 and home to a 1925 world record, is the base of the trail that would lead us to our cabin.

Going uphill on a snowboard that has been split in two is a super interesting concept and the mechanics behind the setup is super intelligent. Now, walking, isn't really my forte. If someone asks me to go on a hike, I’ll my most likely say yes but with definite hesitation because walking just sucks, but skinning on a splitboard, i'll go for days! The feeling of the cool evening air as the sun goes down, the silence of the forest and as the sun dropped lower and lower, every opening in the trees another star would appear. By the time we took the final turn to the cabin door, the night sky was glimmering. Lights shone bright from the town below and gasps were heard as newcomers of the group took their first glance inside the cozy cabin.

First task, get the pot belly stove cranking. Although we were hot and sweaty from the hour skin up, at about -15/-20c outside we would sure know about it if we didn't get that fire cranking. Parks Canada does an awesome job of keeping the cabin stocked with wood! Then the smorgasbord began. From soft cheese (on the packet it was just labelled “Cheese”) to stuffed jalapenos cooked on the stove we had it all. Our main meal were delicious fire roasted potatoes. Pretty luxury considering we were on the side of a mountain the middle of winter.

All this was washed down with some soul warming hot toddies. A simple drink consisting of tea and whiskey, gently brought to boil atop the wooden stove. With a bit of liquid courage we set out to send some pillow lines. For the non snow junkies out there, a pillow is basically a bunch of large features such as logs and rocks, covered in snow, on a steep angle, which in turn creates a snow playground.

At 10pm at night, the local towns folk were mostly sleeping, the birds have shut their eyes and the moon has settled in the sky. Generally not an hour for action, not unless you have a wicked crew, an amazing array of stars, a professional photographer and blind faith in your own ability. I decided to go first as I had ridden this area once before and had a line I was set on. A small cliff with a big pillow to pop off the side, I dropped in, took it with some pace and booted of it. As soon as I took off, all the snow from the front of my board sprayed into my eyes and with zero head torch I came to the conclusion that I wasn't landing this clean and instead made a huge bomb hole in the snow. With psych high and cheers hollering from above others continued to boot it down the face, head torches bleaching the snow, powder glistening through the air, no better way to spend a school night! With tired legs and big smiles, Anthony almost swapping his fingers for icicles after braving the cold gloveless for that perfect shot, we retreated to our cabin for a wee toddy and a nights rest.

It was a brisk Saturday morning. Not a whole lot of snow had fallen up unto this point so I wasn't devastated I was working opening day. I was more just excited that after 7 months of talking about snowboarding, looking at gear, frothing over videos and dreaming of big dumps, the time had finally come and the hill was open.

As I strolled the couple hundred metre walk from my doorstep to the resort, the whole season became real as I saw that first man, daughtly meandering in his clunky ski boots with a set of planks hoisted over his shoulder. Stoked, just stoked! My pass got scanned, I hopped in my gondola and up to work I went. I’ll be honest, possibly the most beautiful trip I’ve ever taken to work. Fortunate enough to let my eyes wander across most of the valley that contains the wee town of Revelstoke. Softly giggling to myself from disbelief that this is the reality I have made for myself. A lifestyle where I can work and snowboard in the same day, where I can walk from house to the gondola, where I can sit on the side of a mountain with some of my best friends in the world and admire the clouds as they roll on by below us. This is all taken in with a slice of humble pie. But enough about that. THE SHREDDING IS UNREAL!

That afternoon after a slow day at work, turns out if there's not much snow there's not a lot of skiers, not a lot of skiers means not a lot of people eating burgers on the mountain, I got my chance. Jack (Kiwi 1, there's also a Jack Kiwi 2) let me take his early finish so I could rip up the hill. I rushed down to the resort, got my board back from tuning, ran to my house, put on my bindings got all my gear, started running back up the road to the resort, tripped catching one boot on the other, smashed my knee and couldn't ride that day. WHAT AN EGG!

As the moon smiles down at me.

Another road trip underway with Andy and the Red Rocket. We are now laborers, we listen to jokes about first nations people, listen to how the Muslims are taking over the world and today I got asked if 'one of my friends said they were gay, would I still be friends with them?"... Canada, the land of Tredeau and apologies, really sees face to cheap drugs and xenophobia. Don’t get me wrong, I love this place, its like a second home. Canada is my reality and has been for a while now, its what I call home, although home is merely a collection of your most treasured memories, highly mobile. I just cant wrap my head around the blatant hate that spreads from fear.

The trip, were off to see my Uncle Blair and the family on Salt Spring Island. A fitting name for a fitting island for a salt of the earth man. Him and his wife have a beautiful acreage, mostly off the grid with many sustainable flora and fauna. We bustled two hoodlums into the rocket and ventured too the ferry. Another successful smuggle and we had landed on Salt Spring the island where farmers don’t wear plad, they wear tie-die. They don’t wrangle cattle instead wrangle the difficulties of growing many sustainable, delicious produces, all for either their own satisfaction or for small business around the island. The beaches, lake and ocean, are pristine the skies were clear and the smiles of the locals were warming. Smiles that warm, we hadn’t really experienced since departing Revelstoke. A smile that says, "It doesn’t matter where you are from, Isnt this place just peachy!".

Days spent adventuring the island, poaching the next best spot to sit on a beach and soak up some more rays. Evenings spent basking in the company of beautiful family sharing stories of young and old, broadening my understanding of my eccentric family and our almost nomadic heritage. Friday night was a typical gathering in the Thomson abode. With family from around the globe and multiple varied connections of the family gathered to pick up an instrument and jam! From Djembe to Tambourine, Spoons to Classical Guitar, everyone is required to add to the sound of the space you are in. Its an incredible feeling to let go of ego and create something without the fear of failure. No sound is incorrect, no beat is out of time, no note too high. Simply, the only thing correct is the creation and exploration of sound. The first time I experienced a jam at my uncles, I was nervous, I didn't quite understand that nothing I could do at the moment was incorrect, other than not participate. This time round, I lapped it up, loved every moment of it and felt invigorated by the end. After not seeing any of my relatives for quite a few months lets just say that by the end of Friday night I was feeling warm, loved and SO WELL FED! 

Saturday evening was a whole different kettle of fish! After spending a lovely dinner with the family, again often struggling to keep food in my mouth with ever constant bursts of laughter, Andy and I headed out to a wee gathering at the nude doc. Things were a little different, groups of young individuals meandering around the doc and some old guy who Lynda managed to stir up consistently for a good hour. We spent the night down by the doc, things got pretty heated on top of the Rocket and my pillow got thrown into a puddle of pee... Shortly to be thrown out. The Pegster struck again!

Sunday was one of the most beautiful days I've ever spent with family. It was also extremely special as I got to share the experience with a close friend and made me extremely proud of my own family, proud of their beliefs and their consciousness proud of their acceptance and welcoming personalities, and proud of what they've created and continue to create on their wonderful farm. What started off with reckless frivolity, the day finished with a ceremony celebrating the life of the incredible Patricia Thomson. Mother of 9, Inspiration of 1000, A 1 of a kind. The woman who at 90 years old decided she wanted to drive 3,400km from Perth to Melbourne and BACK! Of course, with the assistance of her daughter and her granddaughter, she did it. The same woman who at 90 years old tried, with all her heart and all the finesse she could muster, to turn our lovely gay housemate, straight. My grandmama is the inspiration for so many of our lives. She danced and traveled till the day she died, with more charm than the queen and more sass than the ladies from 'Absolutely Fabulous'. We dug two holes right at the beginning of Uncle Blair's driveway. 1 tree for each side of the road and within the roots we scattered the ashes of our hero, Patricia. Whilst its a pretty strange feeling having particles of your burnt grandmother in your hands, I think it's quite a beautiful way to finalise your life. With parts of you spread around the world by the ones you love and cherish.