Impulse to Travel to the Border Realm

For the past few nights I've been thinking of a trip to the border, that man-made dotted line on a map, that separates Burma and Thailand.

My friend, Kwan, shared some stories of the refugees living in rural areas, struggling in camps and their concerns. Surely unlike the refugee camps that I've been to in Africa in the 90s, but nevertheless curious.

She did little to stir my imagination; my brain seems to produce adrenaline at will, sometimes uncontrollably to the dismay of my fellow travellers.

Another journey, what wondrous thoughts.

Spent several nights dwelling on the possibilities.

Restless, partially removed from the flash floods and the dramatic Thai backlash of who's responsible to protect their city against Nature's Fury. The flooding of Bangkok is a yearly affair, unavoidable dilemma of urbanites and businesses.

I believe there would be very little change to the city; their infrastructure can't support developments to counter the floods, much less reduce the damage. City Hall (BMA) seems busy sustaining a redundant process of "flood-prevention" projects.

Yet my thoughts wander, far from the poverty and homelessness of Bangkok.

If its possible, with my pitiful budget, I want to travel to the border town, the so-called cowboy hell-hole where misery is served hot and spicy.

That dotted line seems more tempting by the hour.

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