the problem with having Skype conversations with friends you're too intimate with in public spaces

The Kind of Person You Are in Chiang Mai (as told by your pants)

How to Eat Street Food (aka How to Eat Food in the Street)

a minor crash

I thought I loved my motorbike! He was a dusty old geezer—the loud and frumpy kind—that coughed and spluttered every time I started the engine, that was a little stiff when it came to turning the corners, that squeaked every time I clenched the brakes. But it was part of the charm. It was part of hte _____. He was lacking, but so was I. Together, we took on the highway and other cars as a team; me in my infantile state, him in his wheezy, _____

And then he died on me.

A new low

Hope payday is soon...

(On a side note: why do all of my travel blogs go through a period of monetary crisis?)
(Or I guess it would be more accurate to say: why am I just so bad with money?)

this is where I spent my Sunday afternoon

(this is not my photo, and I'll explain why I have no photos of my own very shortly.)

I was in desperate need of finding a place in the city that ______.

After seeing Sarah off at the bus station, I hopped on a songthaew and drove back to

 

I told my students to write me a stereotype that interests them, and one of them sent this gem:

easily dangerous, or dangerously easy?

the motorcycle, I mean.

It didn't take very long. I'm still atrociously bad at driving, and the only traffic rule I know is to keep on the left side of the road. But I'm addicted.

This is great. This is so easy it shouldn't be legal.