Boredom

I am fucking bored. I will admit it. Not of traveling, no. But in trying to fill those spaces between taking the bus, finding accommodation, going to the bathroom, basic chit chat and finding a bite to eat. I've read enough. I think I've written enough. And now, I've certainly eaten enough. If I could just learn one thing on this trip, it would be to listen to myself and stop eating to conceal what's really going on. What is really going on?

For crying out loud. For heaven's sake. Heaven's to Betsy. Fer fuck's sake mate. This place is teeming with tourists. I am a penny in a jar of loose change. A minnow in a gigantic aquarium. Nobody notices me. I feel like a shadow in the night. I am ok with all that. The problem lies with my free time. Maybe I pretend to be alright with all that. What is all that?

So I check in to my new guest house, close to the river and situated in a beautiful valley in central Laos. I am thrilled to be here and can't wait to partake in many of the various outdoor activities. I go walk around and get myself signed up for some rock climbing tomorrow. I go eat. A full belly later, something is still missing. I go walk around. Then what? I head back to my room over the rickety bridge, along the river's edge in the dark, through a field and back to my dimly lit room. It's only 8pm and I certainly can't go to bed. It's too dark to read and I'm done writing for the day. I put on some trousers and head back to town out after applying some 6.6% DEET to my legs, arms and neck.

I go walk around. This place is teeming with tourists. I recognize faces from the boat days ago. That's all it is. Recognition. Because we shared that experience does not make us instantaneous friends. I decide to sit down at another restaurant. The Organic Farm Cafe. Another bite to eat perhaps. Another beer. I am full, but still empty and bored. So I sit and order another beer, a different "fair trade" beer. Just to try it. Just for the experience. And why not order some more food? How 'bout some deep fried cashews?

Oh, that's me. Now I'm killing time on the Internet. Writing about my follies and perhaps wishing I could speed up time a little so my eyes would stay closed longer with each blink, so it would be 11pm instead of 10pm, so it would be that much closer to bedtime and I could sleep away the residual boredom before I find another beer. Another bite to eat. To forget my feelings and not deal with what's really going on. What is really going on?