Dear Southeast Asia,
I love you, but I think it is time for us to end our relationship. I can no longer sleep with you on your cement-like, foam "mattresses". These beds are slowly killing me. At some point each night I wake up with no feeling in my leg, arm or fingers. My rotator cuff is shot and I almost dislocated my shoulder trying to find a comfortable position. This just isn't working.
It's not you, it's me. I think I'm too old and you're so HOT! Really, you are. However, it would be nice to go outside for ten minutes without becoming drenched in sweat from head to toe. The other day I was cooking dinner and my face was sweating so much it was dripping. I don't think that particular salty ingredient would be appreciated in the meal. Plus, it would be nice to let me hair down, really let my hair down. It has been set permanently in a bun for so long that I think birds may soon begin to nest there.
I know this is difficult because you are strong and have so much to offer - phenomenal historical sites, fascinating cultural experiences, warm, friendly smiles and top notch affordable cuisine. We have definitely made great memories together. I will never forget our time bathing with our new pachyderm friends-truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I thank you for that.
We had a strong connection, definitely stronger than your internet. I'm sorry, but I just need to move faster and you were slowing me down. I think I spent half of my time here staring at a screen, waiting for something to happen. I just can't handle that on again, off again game. I need a solid commitment. It is simply no way to live life when there is so much to see and do.
Maybe we can get together in another season. Maybe if I save more money, we could stay at one of those fancy places that boast pillow-top mattresses, a pool and proper air-conditioning that you can run all day guilt-free. That would be nice.
You will always hold a special place in my heart (and my arm and leg...the small Vietnamese tattoo - or road rash - is quickly fading though).
I hope we can remain friends.
Fondly,
Kristin