Sara Holbrook author/poet/educator
March 31, 2005
Tuesday we are scheduled to take a bike trip through another part of town, but the trip doesn’t start until 1PM. Because of jet lag (or is it jet start?) we are out of bed at 5 AM, go for a swim and hit the streets. This trip begins miles from our hotel
March 30, 2005
more biking in Bangkok
March 30, 2005
Biking in Bangkok
March 30, 2005
Monday morning we cab to the offices of our bike tour. The heat is enough to make your eyeballs sweat and I wonder how we can possibly bike through this thick weather. Andre, our guide is from Holland, his wife and assistant, Thai. Both are welcoming and reassuring, this will be fun.
March 28, 2005
I remember thinking that Tokyo was NYCity if it were clean and organized. Bangkok is like NY, crowded and bustling, except everyone (EVERYONE) is nice. We are staying in the Sukhothai Hotel, a five star study in elegance and art. Two days here and already my mind is a sea of contrasting images.
March 27, 2005
Flight delays, changed planes, lost luggage and a missing hotel reservation have all been made bearable by the cheery people here. Not much to report, except we are excited and must hit the weekend market to shop for baby suits and knickers. (see earlier post for translation). How’s that for an excuse to shopMore
March 24, 2005
I have trouble packing to go to Toledo. Tomorrow Michael (my partner in life and poetry) and I head to Bangkok, Vietnam and Sumatra. Here it is snowing, there it will be in the 90s. Guess I won’t need those mittens. One day will be lost in transition. Someone will be
March 22, 2005
Teacher Karen McNaughton wrote two grants to fund my visit and books for all the 5th graders, telling the kids, “this is what happens when you learn to write, you can get what you want.” What a great advertisement for writing skills! The school is in a temporary location while “cigarette money” builds
March 18, 2005
The home of Vachel Lindsay sits atop a rise next door to the governor’s mansion on Fifth Street in Springfield and does not look like the residence of an itinerant, penniless poet. It looks like what it was, the home of a successful town doctor, father of a penniless poet. The booklet distributed
March 17, 2005
I walk for exercise, each mile a bargaining chip to be traded impulsively for french fries and ice cream. No exertion stays in escrow very long. This morning I walked out from the hotel onto Monroe Street and fixed my stride on the dome of the Capitol building several blocks away. I