If the fanny pack doesn’t give you away as a tourist, the map sticking out of your back pocket will.
The taste of diesel in the air takes me to Chiang Mai. Arriving from a week-long volunteer project outside Chiang Rai via three hour bus ride through the beautiful hills of northern Thailand, I took a songthaew to my lodging. Managing to be both crowded with people and open to fresh city air, the exhaust of truck-now-taxi/bus carried not only the scent, but sight and sound.
There continues to be nothing new under the sun. Some public or governmental organization is widening the sidewalk on Third, and somehow it strikes me as the near-cousin of a street in Wellington. Are shopping districts the same everywhere?
I can always find something at Nordstrom Rack. Even a trip with the sole intent of purchasing a gift sees me walk away with a tank top. I’ve come to make generous use of the return policies of stores downtown in order to make purchases my way. Namely, buying what looks good on the rack and trying it on at home to decide if I want to keep it. Perhaps surprisingly, I return probably half of the originally selected items.
Style requires time, patience, and dedication to curate. I’m not sure which I don’t have, but it seems unlikely my wardrobe will ever resemble anything cohesive.