Almost Fearless

Three If By Motorbike



Since being back to Chiang Mai, Cole has been asking us to go for a ride on the motorbike, usually right before he falls asleep at night.  He’s like, “I’m tired, you know what would be relaxing?  A ride around the old city.  Seriously, let’s go right now.” But what he really says is:


Then Drew and I scramble from whatever position of repose we were enjoying to take a 10 PM jaunt around the city.

On this night, we’re driving around, Cole has already fallen asleep and everything it’s dark and quiet.

Drew: Look, there’s the Chiang Mai Writer’s Club*.

Me: Ooh we finally found it.  We should go there.

Drew: And drink Hemmingway style!

Me: Drew I can’t, I’m pregnant.

Drew: Oh. If you can’t drink what’s the point?

Me: What’s the point of anything?

We laugh.  Way too much.

Drew:  [after a pause] Wait, does this mean we’re nihilists?

Me: No, it means we’re alcoholics**.

*Google tells me it’s the Chiang Mai Writers Club & Wine Bar, and Lonely Planet notes, “There’s also English pub grub to help anchor a liquid meal.”  I’m pretty sure writer’s club is just a classy way of saying, “I like to get hammered but without the loud music”.

**We’re not really alcoholics but I do miss wine. Just this week. I’m daydreaming about frozen margaritas too, it’s unsettling.

Photo by Sergey Puzin

Christine Gilbert

I’ve been dragging my husband around the world since 2008 always with the promise that, “Yes, Drew there will definitely be hammocks there.”



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