I have spent the last 2 weeks watching and absorbing. This evening Gwen and I walked to an evening market. We were given instructions to walk to the bridge, cross over, and we'd be there. Sure enough, that's just what we did. Only the bridge we were instructed to cros was BEHIND us, not ahead of us, so we walked; and walked before we got to a bridge. It was a beautiful evening, as all the evenings have been since we got here, so it was not an issue of suffering for experience.

I have now picked up large bags of green tea, wild yellow ginger tea, jasmine tea, and lemon grass tea. Tea lovers of the world, unite! And come for tea...

We have been told numerous times that this is a culture where people are all happy, smiling, content.

Somehow that hasn't totally meshed with some of the things I have observed. As I have watched, I have seen smiling people, yes; but I have also seen a sorrow behind the eyes, deeper than surface language can express. We have not been staying in the darker areas of the city, but somehow I have suspected there must be one. Tonight we were climbing the stairs up the river crossway when my crutches almost tripped on a man sleeping halfway on the stairs and landing. I tried not no trip on him when

closer inspection I realized he actually looked dead. His face had a still, waxy pallor, and his hands were utterly still. No breath was visible to the eye.

Tonight we saw a suffering part of Chang Mai. The market was full, and noone noticed him.