The misfits are missing a misfit

Charlsea left this afternoon, bound for Texas and greener pastures – or you know, really, I think the pastures could be equally green as they are here, just as long as they aren’t covered in a thick layer of crusty brown dust that chokes the life out of everything it touches. And also not so hot. Maybe some pastures in the shade would be nice, with a good ocean breeze or some cool mountain air. Something like that. So anyway greener pastures, less dust-choked, sun-stroked pastures, whatever. She’s on her way. Hopped a flight to Kuala Lumpur and will be back in the heartland before we know it, canoodling with a bevy of canine companions both new and old, surrounded by a relieved yet adoring family who’ll ply her with beer and hide her passport while she munches on several pounds of well marinated steak and a handful of friend okra. Are we jealous, back here in the land of hot dusty chicken bones? Damn right we’re jealous. Did I mention it’s really hot and dusty here? And not a filet mignon in sight?

But in addition to the burning envy, there’s also some serious nostalgia already at work. I never expected to have this much in common with an ag nerd from the buffalo trails of rural, rural Texas -- but I do, and it’s worked out pretty well so far. So here’s to an unlikely friendship in an unlikely place, and all the adventures that ensued. There are, of course, more to come. Texas to grow and everywhere else to fly.

And now for a short photo tour:

Here is where we drive our moto into the homes of Vietnamese islanders.

This is where we while away the long Phnom Penh afternoons with a mugful of beer and just the right song.

In this one we defy recommendations of local Singaporean tattoo experts and sunburn our flesh off before letting someone poke at it vigorously with a needle.

This here is where we expect great things of historic Indian towns and end up just hanging out eating barfis.

And this is full circle: back in Thailand where I first burst into her room and broke that ice into a million little pieces with the sheer force of my obliviousness. Note to self: sobbing on the shoulders of unsentimental Texans who don't know you is likely not going to work a second time around. But then again, maybe once was all I needed.

Happy trails Charlsea! See you again soon.