I’ve always had a thirst for extremes. From a business meeting in a suit on Monday to a pink Mohawk on Tuesday. From a lavish five star hotel in Manila at breakfast to a dank, fly-infested outhouse in the northern Philippines at lunch time. Or from the conclusion of 2 weeks riding in Cambodia torturing through the impoverished, knee-deep toxic mud hell of Poipet to a striking Cabernet and thick 8 ounce filet mignon in Bangkok in the span of only 8 hours.
After a week sheltered in an opulent suite at one of the most beautiful hotels in India, tomorrow I will be extruded onto a motorcycle into the tempest of Bangalore traffic for a ride 200 miles to the south. I can’t wait.