I write this on the plane as I wait for my flight to take
off from Bangkok—where I’ve spent the past two nights.
The plane is loading as people trepidatiously find their
seats. Why the hesitations? As I climbed the last stair onto the plane I
immediately noticed what I thought was smoke quickly filling the isle. My
memory quickly conjured the recent news stories of Air Asia crashes while
simultaneously constructing the future one, which would see my photo flashing
on the local Seattle news, “We have just gotten confirmation that one Seattle
native was aboard the plane that is believed to have exploded mid-air.”
Yes, it is true, I have an over active imagination, which
coupled with anxiety and slight paranoia is maybe not the best combination.
I asked the nearest flight attendant, “What is this?”
gesturing wildly with my hand trying to sign language smoke.
“It’s because it’s hot outside. It’s the difference in the
air temperature.” She assured me through the type of smile that made me think
she’d been asked this before. Indeed, I heard her and other members of the
flight crew repeating this information to every other person coming up behind me.
The “difference in temperature,” is a welcome reprieve from
the ridiculous sticky heat that has plastered my clothes to my skin the past
two days. When I arrived in Bangkok I did a wardrobe change before even leaving
the airport. The moment we landed an image of The Wicked Witch (Wizard of Oz)
shrieking, “I’m melllllting!” played over and over in my head.
Once I had changed my clothing I plowed confidently through
immigration towards the exits, found my way to the airport train, took it to
the last top and hailed a cab the remainder of the way to my hostel. One thing that traveling extensively, and mostly on my own,
has done is given me the confidence to know I’ll end up in the right place even
if from the onset I have no idea what I’m doing—which, let’s be real—is most of
the time.
When I got into my air conditioned room, using any excuse to
stay in that cool air for as long as justifiable, I began my travel routine of
going through my bag to determine what I’d forgotten to bring.
This time it was only one thing (breaking records here!) and
it was pretty obvious. The only shoes I had were the ones I was wearing: my
Nike running shoes. That was absolutely not going to fly, so I set off into the
busy, polluted, motor-cycle and tuk-tuk crammed streets of Bangkok.
Where I was staying was a 2 minute walk from Koh San Road,
which is loaded with stalls selling things aimed at tourists, Thai musicians
crooning “hits” from 10 years ago at you from open air bars, food carts selling
everything from ice cream to fried tarantulas. It was such a unique, fun,
chaotic atmosphere that only after wandering for about an hour did I remember
what I had set out to do. It was some time around the point I thought, “Oh em
gee. I wish I was barefoot because my feet are on fire.”
There was a Canadian couple staying in my room. When I
returned to swap out my shoes for my new bedazzled flip-flops we engaged in the
standard traveler chit chat. “How long are you here for? Where are you coming
from? How long are you staying? Where are you from?” When I said I was from Seattle, but living in
England they both informed me I had picked up a slight English accent. Even
though it did make me self-conscious of the way I spoke for the rest of the
night so as to not come across as a poser, this did come in handy the next day.
As you meander through the alleyways and back-streets of Koh
San the vendors will try to engage you with the opening lines, “Hi Miss…” or
“Hello, friend…” ending the sentence with, “where are you from?” I noticed
quickly that they all responded identically when I said I was American.
“Obama. Obama,” or—extending their arms out—“High five!”
Usually the greeting was a combination of the two. It got me to wondering what
they might say if I was from another country, so I began answering that
question, “I’m from England.”
“Lovely jubbly” was the response every single time. Without
fail.
“I’m from Australia,” was the next one I tried.
“G’day!” was the answer to this one with the exception of
two times when I got the really odd, “Kangaroo, mate!”
My cynical and conspiratorial part of my brain on overdrive;
it made me wonder if these stalls were maybe all owned by the same two or three
Westerners who had hired the Thai to work the markets and taught them phrases
from English speak countries to attract customers.
Last night I met a guy from Philly and a guy from London who
were both traveling solo. I got into a really funny conversation with them
about life—the kind of discussion usually reserved for friends you’ve known for
years. It made me remember that this—deep human connections with people who an
hour earlier were strangers—is one of the absolute most amazing things that
comes from this lifestyle.
I’m excited to see what comes next…
Best things in Bangkok (in no particular order)
Grand National Palace
Reclining Buddha
Temples
Koh San Road
People watching along the canal
Great as always. Write a book!!
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