Jumping on Entrepreneurship

Parkour, Startups, and Travel

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Being Honest is Scary

In Ramallah, my default was to avoiding talking about heading to Israel. In Israel, I’ve noticed my default state has been to avoid mentioning I was just in Palestine. When it does come up, I continue the conversation very cautiously.

I don’t know how people will respond. Will they be upset? Interested? Offended? Jealous? So far, I’ve seen a range of reactions.

Reactions of individuals in Palestine, on traveling to Israel:In general, no one get upset. At least on the surface.

Overall I’d say there was definitely curiosity, but some people definitely had an undertone of disappointment and jealousy because they could never go there. A few times I started talking about the rest of my trip (travel through Israel for a week, China for two weeks immediately after), and I think that undertone may have gotten stronger.

Presuppositions Betray

On Point B

Enjoyed last eve a reggae band in the NE quarter of Chiang Mai's old city. Pretty good, played well together, complete w/ obligatory sax & trumpet harmonies. I meant to stay only briefly, but ended up spending a pleasant hour-plus digging reggae and ska renditions of ‘take me home country roads,’ ‘handyman,’ ‘let it be,’ ‘stand by me,’ and so on. Not a single Jamaican tune as such, but nonetheless a fine stew of audio-import. Drummer & bass player were both terrific, shoveling a grave-deep groove trench in which the frontline settled, flaunted, and prevailed. [Almost as enjoyable: the soul-crushing spectacle of drunken dancing Westerners.]

Moving backward in time: yesterday afternoon we took the scooters a few kilometers south and west to the foot of Doi Suthep, and dined outdoors at The Galae Restaurant, a lakeside cafe. Ordered two allegedly disparate menu items, and were presently presented with two identical plates of fried rice, both of which--i hasten to add--were quite good, despite being identical. Sizeable fish swirled and swarmed in the lake water beneath the please do not feed fish signs. And, for our dancing and dining pleasure: Kenny G. Not a whole record, mind you, just a single track on infinite repeat … at least i think it was the same track infinitely repeated ... it sounded infinite. (Though i here admit: i may not be the ideal candidate to comment with authority regarding Kenny G’s music. Pat Metheny did so extensively and to great effect some time back, and his authority on such matters exceeds mine as does the sun a Popeye nightlight.) Nice place, great view, and i imagine we’ll return, irrespective of the soundtrack.

I’ve yet to achieve plates for my bike. Upon its purchase i learned that i needed to present another proof-of-residence, the first of which was retained by the Thai BMV at some point during the full day i spent getting my Thailand motorcycle license. By full day i mean a Whole Entire Day, the afternoon of which (immediately prior to the driving test) produced a fine example of Thailand's mon-freaking-soon season. So i’ve just been riding around on a bike without plates as if i own the place, (though with official paperwork in the ready position in the 'neath-seat compartment, should the bike’s legality ever be challenged by local authorities ... at least i think it’s official paperwork. Most of it’s in Thai script.)

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