Sunday night. Not much to do. Nothing particularly exciting happening. I was wandering in the hallway and stuck my head out onto the second-floor balcony and saw a spotlight off in the distance, its beam like a beacon in the night sky. Everyone else seemed to be busy or gone, so I decided to check it out, and at the same time do a little “going around” like people do here at night. It wasn’t hard to find the source of the spotlight. It seemed like most of the people in town were headed to check it out too. I wasn’t really sure what it was, but it looked like a concert promoting motorbikes. I cruised past it a few times and tried to see what exactly was happening. I was clad mostly in denim and in need of a shower and shave, but I didn’t care. I drove around and glanced at the very crowded flower market along the river. Then I went and drove through a park near the river. After the sun sets, nearly all available sidewalk space is filled with chairs and tables and people sit around with their family members or lovers and sip fruit juice or tea. It was nice and crowded this evening too. I drove around and as I made my way past parked motorbikes and carts used for fruit juice vending, I was struck by another one of my thoughts that seem to come to me every so often. Concerning the fact that everything here is so, so, foreign to everything else in my life. When have I driven a motorbike through city streets in January while wearing flip-flops? Why am I surrounded by people who I can barely communicate with? What town in America has little push carts used for selling fruit juice? I mean, I’ve come to the point where things here seem “normal”: like going to breakfast, driving around on two wheels, dealing with heat, etc. But I don’t know why, I just felt like everything was strange again when I was driving through the park.


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