French Connections

People! It's been 5 days since I last wrote.

Some of you may have worried. My mom sure did!

And with good reason. What with my recent hospital visit and all.

Well, I'll give you 4 guesses as to why I haven't posted since Sunday.

Is it:
A. Roni fell deathly ill again and had to be rehospitalized
B. Those politcal activities Roni wrote us about 2 weeks ago landed him in a Thai forced labor camp
C. 2 gorgeous French women have drawn Roni into their illict world of picnics, dancing and tomfoolery
D. Thailand sucks

Thankfully my friends, the answer is...C. A big capital C.

For the most part, these past 5 days have been heaps of fun, thanks in large part to my new French friends.

Say hello to Juliette (joo-lee-ETT) and Caroline (cah-ro-LEEN). Wow are they sweet.

You remember last Sunday when I told you about that French girl I talked to at the market. I'm getting my feet rubbed - oh, it's hard here - when one woman stands out out of the thousands there. My god.

So I say, "OK Krouzman, you want to talk to her. But just walk up to her? She's fucking gorgeous. Yes. Do it. Here's the deal. If she's still around when you're done paying for your foot rub, well then, it is a big invitation from the universe. Take it."

And well, she was. So I did.

Of course the next day we run into each other at another market, and we talk, and she says, hey join us this evening. And I do.

Now it quickly comes out that indeed that word she said 2 weeks ago at the market, the one that sounded like it could be "pig" or "boyfriend"...well, it was indeed boyfriend. OK so there go my fantasies of riding around on motorbikes with this woman through the countryside and - OK, I'll let you use your imagination, in part because most likely she, and my mother, will be reading this.

(Man, I should have a private blog. Oh wait, I do!)

So it's been all platonic. And let's put the girl boy thing aside for a sec, because it would sort of diminsh the connection here.

Juliette and Caroline are awesome. They are super fun, kind, deep, energetic, adventurous, and just the right amount of cooky for my taste.

So is Caroline's boyfriend Jean-Charles. The guy has been so welcoming, plus I love his oh so French name.

I actually told Jean-Charles about the time me and 3 high school friends did a skit for parents night during our senior year of high school. It was on behalf of our French class, and the characters were named, "Jean-Claude, Jean-Pierre, Jean-Luke and Jean-Jean." Unlike our French teacher, who I think hated us, Jean-Charles laughs and tells me he has close family members named "Jean-Pierre," "Jean Claude," and "Marie France." No shit!

In any case, last night Juliette's boyfriend - Charles' brother Sebastian - arrived, and now we are a 5-some. Yes I'm feeling a bit 5th wheely, but gosh they have been so welcoming.

It is odd though that we go out and suddenly I turn around and they've disappeared. 20 minutes later I find them huddled in an alley off the beaten path, exchanging furtive glances and muttering in French. Yet they always seem happy to see me again! Hmmm...

No really it has been wonderful to hang out with this gang. My time here is now basically divided into 3 parts:
1. 10am - 5pm: I'll probably run into one of them somewhere as I amble around from Wat to market to Chinese medicine man
2. 5pm - 11pm: funtime with my French friends in the park, then riding our bikes, then dinner, then going out
3. sleeping quite well, and sometimes dreaming of Jul - uh, of ponies

It's also been a good excuse for me to practice my French, which unfortunately has deteriorated quite a bit since I became rather fluent 10 years go, but not so much as to be useless. I can say "Good evening, my friends! Shall we stroll together?" quite well.

Tonight will be a big test for me though. In a few minutes I must go shower and then meet my French friends for dinner (yes! food!), then go here some jazz. But we'll be joined by my new competition, Mark, who my French friends met last night when I let them out of my sights for 6 or so minutes.

Mark is American, like me, except he speaks better French, plays better guitar, and is keeping up with shaving his head, unlike me. But I've been to Burning Man! Ha ha, Mark! Let's see if you can top that one!

Oh don't you just love my jealous competitive side? Come on I know you do, especially those ex-girlfriends who may be reading this Blog. Thank you by the way.

OK, enough self-deprication. Really, what a great lesson this has all been in going with my gut, and in what one little bold act can lead to. This seems so important, especially during a very open-ended period of travel.

OK, I need to go shower. Much love to all of you and many more stories to come.

Roni

ps - A quick update on my health. I am, well, I think...all better! YES!!! Oh please let is be so. Almost 2 weeks after I collapsed in a Thai restaurant, I now not only have enough energy to get out of bed...I can actually function like a normal human, bowel movements and all!

Today I actually had, get this...a lunch that consisted of more than white rice and boiled bean paste. Crazy, I know. In fact I enjoyed an outstanding lunch with my new French friends. A very nice Thai woman at a sweet little daytime market pulled live fish out of a large plastic tub, her husband killed and gutted 'em, and she grilled them up, just for us. We enjoyed our feast with rice, stir fried veggies, and mangoes. Oh the mangoes here.

pps - A word on durian here before I go shower and brush my teeth. There is a connection here between the durian and the self-cleaning I plan to undertake, and that is because DURIAN IS FUCKING EVIL.

Durian is a Thai fruit that hippies like my friend Joanne (hey, it's true) like to eat cus' it's local and advise others to do so. I'm like, OK.

Now this thing smells - and actually looks - atrocious, something like a rotting corpse that was stuffed full of raw onions and hard boiled eggs before it expired last summer.

Sort of like the innards of Luke's Tan Tan must have smelled in The Empire Strikes Back when Han cuts it open to keep Luke warm after Luke was such a bad ass and killed that big hairy white oger and later he goes on to train with Yoda but then he leaves too soon to save his friends and so is sort of forced into a too early confrontation with his (OK Roni, we get it.) (Fuck you this is my Blog) (I'm gonna stop reading then). (Fine. Go for it. Even if you do, it's the second ps already.) (Wait, Krouzman, why are you attacking your readers? That's not a good strategy.) (True, true. I'm sorry.) father Darth Vader who cuts of his hand and then they are all betrayed and...OK, I'll stop. In any case, the shit smells hidious. There are actually signs posted on busses that say eating durian is outlawed on public transit. For real. But I eat it anyway, and you know what, it tastes OK. But then it gives you terrible gas and you can't stop burping this nasty shit. Joanne, I love you.