By Lucy

It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which I am preparing to depart […] I have often attributed my attachment to, my passionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of ocean to that production of the most imaginative of modern poets. There is something at work in my soul which I do not understand. […] there is a love for the marvelous, a belief in the marvelous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me out of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisited regions I am about to explore.

-Frankenstein, or a Modern Prometheus

There I was, on a plane again.

Despite the aggressive flight attendants trying to convince everyone to check their luggage, I noted a couple of completely empty overhead compartments.

This time, I’d booked a ticket with the seat against the bathroom. The thing that annoys me more than anything is having someone kick the back of my seat, so this seemed like a clever idea. It paid off.

My seat companions were a man on the outside row who didn’t even attempt to sleep, and the man in the middle seat who was all elbows. I will say, both of them were very courteous whenever I asked to be released for the bathroom.

The take-off made me less afraid than it usually does. I’m slowly getting over my fear, 15 years too late.

They served dinner, somewhat confusingly, so I put on a movie to keep myself awake. The choices were between green curry and portobello pasta… why must everything upset my stomach? It was still twisting itself into knots and I feel bad for the guys sitting next to me, because I was farting the whole flight.

There was quite a bit of turbulence this time, not that turbulence scares me. It did jostle me awake. As far as me and Kevin could tell, it was from the cold front that’s been parked over Japan for two weeks, dumping snow on it. The flight arced over Alaska and skirted Russia and China, which made me a little bit nervous. We also crossed right over Taiwan, not that we could see anything. What if we got intercepted by a Chinese jet?

I slept about three hours the first time, then I got hit by a case of the ol’ restless legs and had to stay up for a bit.

I watched Bugonia for my second movie. If you are only familiar with Emma Stone from her original fluffy rom-com origins, her turn into ‘serious’ acting with movies like Poor Things and Bugonia will be quite a shock to your system. I think it’s a good movie worth watching, and hard to talk about without spoiling, but I will say there was one torture scene that is quite harrowing to watch, and I say that as someone who watches slasher movies. I almost had to take my headphones off to watch it.

Then I was awake for a bit because I was traumatized. Yay!

I managed to drift off for another 3 hours and felt reasonably rested. Breakfast was pathetic, even by airplane food standards.

You can tell you are at Singapore before you can even see the lights of the city; the sea is full of ships, and you can clearly see their lights from the plane.

Jeez, this is nuts, isn’t it? We landed something in the realm of 3PM Vancouver time, but dawn was just breaking in Singapore. Having spent 16 hours stuck on the plane, not to mention how early the sun goes down in Vancouver, I was approaching 24 hours of constant nighttime.

Unlike Australia, Singapore doesn’t make you go through customs if you are just transiting. You’re just in the terminal, hanging out, unbothered.

First thing’s first; let’s grab a luggage trolley. No point in literally carrying my bags everywhere when I can let 4 wheels do it for me.

I wasted about an hour wandering around the airport, looking for a shower. There are 3 options for showers at Changi; the ‘spa’ upstairs, which charges something in the realm of 50 bucks for a shower, the transit hotel where you can rent a private room for 6 hours at 200 bucks, or the pay-per-shower at the Hub and Spokes for 5 bucks. However, I was unwilling to spend that much money for a shower, and I’d have to leave the terminal and go through customs to access Hub and Spokes, so I decided showering was not critical. I could smell me, though.

Instead, I found the quietest, most unused branch of the terminal, and went right down to the end. They have “snooze zones” in each, with the lights turned down, and recliners, although the biggest reason that I can’t sleep on trains/buses/planes is because I cannot sleep in a recliner. I don’t sleep on my back, I usually sleep on my stomach with my arms crossed over my chest, like a confused vampire, but I can sleep curled up on my side. I made an effort to lay down on a recliner like a proper person, then I gave up and found a spot behind a pillar, next to a wall of bamboo. Used my backpack as a pillow and my coat as a jacket. I feel more comfortable about this as well, because it makes it harder to rob me.

I slept about an hour and a half, and then my confused internal clock woke me, even thought I was still so tired I was seeing double.

Time to eat something, I guess.

I wandered down to the food court. The first thing that caught my eye is a Chinese cafe called Hainan Story. Hainan being a province (island, really) in China. They don’t have coffee, they have ‘kopi’, which is pronounced the same, and made with condensed milk, although curiously it looks like a black coffee. Apparently even the unsweetened coffee has a caramel-ish taste. I did a lap around the storefront, then got in the back of the line, fidgeting. Singapore’s dollar is comparable to Canada’s, so I don’t have to do any mental math. I also ordered a “butter cake”, and a teddy paw with red bean filling.

I had been worried the butter cake would be super filling. It was not, although that may be because I was so jet-lagged and sleep deprived my body didn’t know which way was up. It was like an angel food cake. The teddy paw was buttery and soft, with Nutella on top and thick red bean paste in the middle.

I picked a seating area overlooking a construction zone, naturally.

After my food was consumed, I wandered off to find somewhere to plug my phone in. Singapore’s plugs are some combination of British and American, so you can use either without an adaptor, although depending on your device you might was a transformer. The voltage is standard 230, which might fry a cheap phone because American voltage is 150.

So, Singapore!

Partially because Paul had been sending me gifs of Pirates of the Caribbean for weeks, I feel obliged to point out that Singapore is not the wretched hive of scum and villainy that people think it is. Singapore didn’t even exist at the time Pirates of the Caribbean is set (1730), although the Strait of Malacca was a common place to be attacked by pirates. It had been burned to the ground by the British in 1612, and wasn’t rebuilt for 200 years. In the early part of the 20th century, when it was a British colony, it was a hive of crime and gluttony, nicknamed “Sin Galore”, but after they declared independence from everyone (including Malaysia) in 1965, they set about changing that.

It’s really a shining paragon, in my opinion, although their methods are pretty brutal. The death penalty and caning are still practiced there, and there are fines for littering both cigarette butts and chewing gum (chewing gum is famously outlawed there). It’s hard to argue with, though; they have one of the lowest crime and poverty rates in the world, and most of their citizens are wealthy, well educated, and speak several languages. America, eat your heart out!

(Although most of its citizens speak Singlish, a curious form of Engrish, but the good news is that you don’t need to learn a new language to go there)

It is also basically just a giant city, paved coast to coast. Changi is located on the Westernmost side.

Changi is one of the biggest and most luxurious airports in the world. It is 7th for airplane traffic (a plane lands there every 80 seconds). Jewel Changi, the hub, has multiple opulent attractions, including the tallest indoor waterfall, a 22’000 square meter garden, a canopy bridge, a topiary garden, an 800 foot long “walking net”…

None of which I would be seeing, as I was unwilling to leave customs!

I found a quiet spot and played around on my laptop for a bit, then ordered myself some lunch. I ordered some noodle dish at a restaurant called Asian Street Food. They have a robot butler that gets lost more often than not.

Since I persist in the delusion that I am a content creator, I went for a wander and tried to make a reel. I noticed I seemed to be the only tourist wandering around taking photos; guess the luster’s worn off. Oh well!

I was glad, though, because I found a rooftop garden! There was almost nothing to see from it, as the garden overlooked the construction zone, but it was glorious to be outside in the sun and the heat. It was also very strange; Singapore is very flat, and I am accustomed to mountains at this point.

Within 20 minutes, I had to retreat back inside to the AC, as I was a puddle of sweat.

I went back to the same snooze lounge, now almost completely empty. I basically just wanted somewhere quiet to hang out.

So! I signed up for the Push Up Challenge! For reasons!

I still can’t do a whole lot of push-ups, but the website says you can also do squats and crunches, so that’s fine. I did notice the burn from doing push-ups has moved from my biceps to my pecs, which Paul says is what it is supposed to feel like, so something good is happening then.

I was starting to feel the day as it got on to dinner time, so I grabbed a small hand pie from Hainan Story and headed towards the gate.

I got a bit confused here. Seems Air Thai uses this gate often; they had 3 flights to Bangkok flying back-to-back, an hour apart, so they don’t let anyone in ’til late. They also have a secondary security there.

When it was finally time to go through security, we ran into a hiccup. My digital boarding pass had the original Air Canada flight number on it, so security didn’t believe I had the correct gate. When I finally convinced them and got inside, I had to sit in timeout while they printed me a paper one with the right number.

I am too tired for this.

The flight was a slightly surreal experience. I’d expected the flight to be mostly white backpackers, but it was not. I was the only white person in a sea of Asian faces, which made me a little self conscious.

I’d booked the back row again, but for whatever reason, this time I wasn’t against the bathroom; there was just a void between me and the flight attendants area. They tried to chat with me a bit, which was fun. There was no one else seated around me.

They served a small meal on the flight. Also, observe the hilariously archaic TV sets!

This flight was short; not even 2 hours. I noticed, as we approached Bangkok, the sea was alight with small lights. They were too small to be cargo ships, I wonder what they were?

I was a zombie. And now to navigate customs.

Actually, customs wasn’t that bad. They did insist on finger-printing me, though, so if you are dire-hard against being finger-printed… just don’t travel, actually, because Europe is also implementing finger-printing. Alternatively, just don’t break the law!

The signs in the airport are all Engrish.

Now to navigate Bangkok in the middle of the night, jet-lagged and sleep deprived.

Holy cow it’s hot out. I know what the temp was supposed to be, but it was still an experience to have the humid air slap you across the face. I was instantly sweating through my clothes, not that there was much I could do except hope I didn’t pass out.

The main ride-hailing app in Thailand is Grab. There are other options, like taxis and tuk-tuks, but they require haggling over price and I’m not one for haggling, especially when I’m tired. There was also the option to grab the train, and the hostel helpfully had directions for how to take the train from the airport, but I was not in the mood to figure it out.

It took two tries for the app to find a driver. Once I did find one – a young woman, thank goodness – I then had to find my way to the pick-up spot. There was a second floor to the pick-up area, and it took a while to navigate, although she assured me she would wait and gave me directions (which was way better than the Uber in New Zealand, who told me to get lost when I couldn’t find the pick-up zone). A smiling man took my bags from me and put them in the trunk, and my driver opened the door for me and I collapsed gratefully into the back seat, drenched in sweat.

It was a 40 minute drive to the hostel from the airport, and we even took a toll road to cut down on the time!

They drive crazy here. I’ve read it, but it’s different to experience it. Besides being tired, I also haven’t been in a car on a highway in forever… what, three months? Since Victoria drove me to Fort Frances.

Bangkok is a city constantly in motion. Motorcycle drivers weave between the cars, ignoring lanes and all laws of defensive driving. They also congregate at the front of the lane for every red light, so they take off like an impromptu meet-up. No one uses their turn signals. Tuk-tuks cut people off with barely a glance backwards. I could see a pattern in the chaos, though.

One thing that’s very true is how much of communication is motivation. You know, the joke that Italians talk with their hands is a relic of a time when all the city-states spoke different languages, or local dialects, and the hand gestures helped them understand each other. Despite not speaking Thai, and most Thai’s not even speaking passable English, we never had trouble communicating because they wanted to understand me, and I wanted to be understood. As opposed to people in North America, who mostly seem allergic to the idea of anything other than willful misunderstanding. We rely on our rules and turn signals, instead of trying to see each other.

Anywho. The car whizzed down dark streets. Eventually we passed some sort of main tourist area, the streets lined by gilded buildings and tall fences. Homeless people slept all along the stretch.

The driver dropped me off a few buildings down from the hostel, as it was located awkwardly near the off-ramp. She waited outside the car as I stumbled down the block, confused, which was kind of her.

Check-in time!

The man behind the counter is named Phet. He could see the bags under the bags under my eyes, and was very nice as he checked me in and bid me to get some rest.

I had the room next to the elevator. I later learned the other rooms on this floor are all private rooms. As I got there, one of the other girls was getting back from the bathroom, and she helped me get inside and find my bed.

The room was cramped. Or, at least, the standing portion was. There was basically a small channel between the beds and the wall, with no seating or coat racks, but I wasn’t arguing. The bunks themselves are pod-shaped and quite spacious, with hangers inside, a small chest that also doubles as a shelf, a light and a plug.

Changed into my pajamas and passed out.

I wake up at 7:30. The curtains are thin – but I suppose, air flow is the name of the game here – and not quite pulled to, so the sunlight creeps in. I’m also still a little jet-lagged, although I get over jetlag fairly quickly because sleeping in is impossible for me.

Time to wander downstairs and try this free breakfast. I’ve decided to walk around in my pajama bottoms, for now: they’re the light pair of pants I have with me, until I find some elephant pants.

I can tell I look like a tourist, wide-eyed with nerves and sleep deprivation. I’ve always lacked the easy confidence most people seem to have when travelling, though, even in countries where I spoke the language and understood the culture. There was a bar set with various drinks, a few tables (most covered in dirty dishes), and a counter at the far end.

A woman manning the counter noticed me hovering by the door, and waved me in. “You stay here?” She asked. I nodded, “What room?” I gave her the number and she crossed me off on a paper list. She handed me a laminated sheet with the 4 options for breakfast, and I pointed to the one I wanted. I’m quickly turning into a mute, just pointing at things. She indicated for me to sit anywhere, so I grabbed the one table that was free and clean.

I wandered over to the bar. Was everything here free? There was a jug with water, and another that looked like mango juice, from the colour. There was a kettle labelled coffee, and another labelled tea. What kind of tea? Black? Green? I poured myself a mug. Definitely black tea. There was a bowl labelled sugar and another of powdered creamer. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Breakfast was good, small but filling. And to be honest, I was hoping to keep losing weight here, so I wasn’t arguing with the smaller portions. The pancakes were super fluffy and so were the eggs.

As I finished eating and was about to head back to my room, a woman stopped by my table. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Oh, sure!”

We chatted for a bit – I never caught her name. She was heading south the next day, so it didn’t seem like there was a point. Funnily enough, she was from Toronto. Her easy confidence bolstered me. She tells me that the area behind the hostel, past the river, is very touristy. Seems like a place to start shopping.

Went upstairs and grabbed my shower supplies. This hostel has soap and shampoo dispensers in the shower, which I might as well use and save mine for a long as possible. There was a small device attached to the showerhead I presume was supposed to heat the water, that didn’t seem to be working; the shower water never got above cool. But with how sweaty and hot I was, a cool shower wasn’t the end of the world (I still would have preferred lukewarm).

I was sweaty within moments of exiting the shower. I’m going to spend most of the next couple of months permanently damp, aren’t I?

Back to my bunk. There was only one small plug next to my bed, which isn’t the end of the world. I can charge my phone off my laptop. Although when I plugged in the laptop, the transformer turned off the light.

I watched Youtube for about an hour before napping for a bit. Woke up around noon. Time for lunch!

I went exploring. The door to the stairs was now open, so I didn’t have to worry about any alarms.

I went upstairs first. I’d seen people mention a rooftop patio, but that was slightly hyperbolic. There was a small patio wrapped around the fifth floor stairway, a glass balcony that opened onto a view of the city. It was slightly dizzying; I couldn’t see a way to close the balcony. It was just open to the elements 24/7.

The stairs are insane as well, wide and glass fronted. They could easily have fit another 2 room into the space the stairs take up. I wonder why this is?

Walked all the way down the stairs. On floor one was the kitchen/ laundry room and a small lounge, which opened onto the cafe below. On the main floor was the cafe and check-in, plus a small counter facing the window, and some hanging chairs.

I also finally realized… It was called Yaks house, as in Yaksha, a common spirit/ demon in East Asian culture. The tagline is “Awaken Your Big Journey”, which seems extremely apropos for me.

So, Thailand.

Once known as Siam (yes, anything called Siamese is from Thailand), it’s one of the few countries that was never a colony for any Western power. The country has been settled since the first migrations out of Africa, close relatives on the Indus people, and they were Hindu at that time.

From the 7th to 11th century it was the Dvaravati kingdom, located roughly where Bangkok is now. In the 11th century, the kingdom started getting a lot of influence from the Khmer, which you’d know as Cambodia.

In the 13th century started what we’d recognize modern Thailand, Siam. King Rama settled the great city of Sukhothai, roughly halfway between modern Bangkok and Chiang Mai, and founded the kingdom of Siam.

As a side note, I used to run a weekly round of Civilization 5, and I’d play as Siam a lot. Their set-up is very good for a diplomatic victory.

After King Rama’s kingdom fell, about 15th century, a new city was built in Ayutthaya, about an hour north of modern Bangkok, until about 200 years ago.

The city isn’t even known as Bangkok in Thai, by the way. It has an actual Thai name, which is the longest city name in the world.

Thailand is a country of contradictions. They’re prone to military coups, but not overthows. It’s still a monarchy and the king is still revered – it’s illegal to mock him – but they have a constitution and elections. They’re Buddhist, modest and conservative, but they tolerate all the white people running around in booty shorts getting drunk because moolah! Tourist dollars make up more than 10% of the national GDP. They have a very strong identity and a knack for diplomacy; despite never being a colony, the blue line in the middle of their flag was added so it would look visually similar to the French and English flag, in a “don’t hurt me I’m friendly” kind of way.

In October 2025, the Queen Mother died, and is currently doing a year of lying in state before her cremation in October 2026. Be warned if you’re thinking of travelling around then; it’ll be a zoo. As a result, there’s black ribbons and portraits of her everywhere.

On Sunday was going to be an election. Gulp! I doubt anyone will shoot the white girl, but I’m gonna hide in the hostel, just in case.

Pro-tip for visiting Thailand; don’t drink the water. Find your nearest 7/11… everything you need will be there.

Saturday was I’m jet-lagged and confused day.

I nursed my tea for a bit, then went back to bed for a nap. The AC turns off in the room from noon to 5, which is fair. And if no one’s in the room and the curtains are shut, it shouldn’t heat up that much anyway.

I ordered lunch at the cafe, which was a mistake. It was a little overpriced, but I was too afraid to wander far.

The main area is interesting because it’s cushions on the floor. Which I sort of enjoy, because I sit like that normally. When I had my own apartment I even had some spare couch cushions on the floor for if I felt like sitting there. After a couple of hours, my spine started to be annoyed at me, though. I rarely saw anyone there; I later figured out most of the rooms in this place are private rooms, so everyone hides in their rooms or goes out.

I started planning because that’s what I do when I’m nervous. I decided to take the train down to Hua Hin, a family friendly beach town a couple of hours south of Bangkok, then up to Ayutthaya. Lots of people do a day tour from Bangkok to Ayutthaya, but there’s lots of cheap hostels nearby and I’d rather stay there. After Ayutthaya, I booked in at Chiang Mai for a week, although I bet I’ll stay there longer.

Stepping outside was a slap in the face with heat again. It’s also strange to see the sun directly overhead and not hovering over the horizon for most of the day.

For dinner, I walked down the road to a Japanese restaurant. The wait staff there seemed confused by me and put me upstairs, while they chatted with the Japanese guests downstairs. I paid with the only currency I had, a thousand baht note, and she had to leave to get change for me, which made me feel bad.

Walking around is such a confusing mix of scents. You might turn a corner and come across a canal – which wouldn’t surprise me if they contained untreated sewage – or a vendor selling durian. Or you might walk past a street food vendor cooking something that smells like the sweetest ambrosia.

Crashed early, to no one’s surprise. Awake at 5.

Sunday. Time to nut up or shut up.

For breakfast, I tried the option that was a fried egg with some sausage. It was not as filling and I went back to my usual the next day.

Thailand is challenging my assumptions already. I thought it would be mostly white boys and girls – known as farang in Thai – but I was mistaken, or at least, that was a quirk of me not camping out on Khao San road. There was lots of odd travelers; Thai people visiting their capitol city and temples, Japanese and Indian people on holiday. I encountered surprisingly few white boys travelling solo, but a fair number of girls.

Following the other girl’s instructions, I wandered down the road that ran under the highway, Phra Pinklao. Bangkok is a city of canals as it occupies the same space as the Chao Phraya river delta. This main bridge I had to cross was the Chao Phraya itself.

It’s also sinking. The top layer is clay, and there was little planning of the city to be built on top of it, like a brick on some unstable Jello. Combined with the pumping of groundwater, and earthquakes from the Ring of Fire, subsistence is a real problem.

Thai people stare at me a lot. I suspect I am an odd duck because most tourists just take tuk-tuks or taxis around, not walking. Or maybe it was the doo-woop dress I was wearing, slightly too warm for the weather, but I didn’t feel much like wearing a bra today.

Bangkok is a hard city to navigate. There was no urban planning and infrastructure maintenance is haphazard at best. The sidewalk often doesn’t exist, and when it does it tends to be buckled with the city shifting, or littered with street vendors and motorbikes. Incidentally, they often drive their bikes on the sidewalk! You eventually get used to the chaos; you have to, or else you’d never leave the hostel. My own motorcycle training came in helpful here; how to use your body language to signal other motorists, how to be comfortable sharing space with cars.

Once on the other side of the bridge, I started to notice other tourists. I was heading in roughly the right direction.

I got lost here, but it worked out for me. I’d been heading in the direction of some shops that would sell me elephant pants. Now, elephant pants are a creation entirely for tourists, and there’s no faster way to out yourself as a tourist than to wear them (besides your white skin). But I also liked them; they’re iconic, light and breezy.

I ended up in the touristy section outside of the Grand Palace and was forced to buy a drink because I was dying of heat. I then noticed some shops selling elephant pants for 100 baht. Sold!

I hunted around inside the store and found a pair that were purple, and a matching flowy top. The top was expensive – 300 baht – but I really liked it.

I wandered around the market for a bit. I hate it when people give me the hard sell, so I kept running away from stalls I was interested in because the vendor started yelling at me to try and get me to buy something. I was finally coaxed into a store by the kindly matriarchal owner pointing out I was sweating buckets and her store is AC’d. She pulled out a chair so I could collapse gratefully into it and handed me something cool to drink, before placing a menu in front of me. The menu was helpfully just a laminated card with big pictures of food and prices. I picked something and it was brought quickly.

This isn’t too bad, actually. I’m doing it. Backpacking in Thailand.

Well, I dunno what else to do. I didn’t want to hit the Palace yet, so I wandered home.

Around 4, I headed out again. I wanted some of this legendary street food, and one of the markets nearby is the underappreciated gem Wang Lang.

It was harder to get to than Google maps led me to believe. Across the canal was construction, which forced me on a circuitous detour through the hospital. Yes, I do have a brain, and I picked a hostel walking distance to the Western hospital, just in case.

Eventually I made it.

The first thing I bought was a “pink milk”, a kind of frappe made with sala syrup, which is bright red.

Now for some food!

Most things in the market are 10-20 baht, which I like because it gives you the option to try a bit of everything. The first thing I tried was this ‘fruit sandwich’ that was most like a slice of cake with the frosting in the middle. There was a funny vignette where I thought the vendor said 100, but she meant 10, and she could have just taken the 100 baht note and not corrected me, but she didn’t!

I’ll also say, I’ve seen blogs giving advice about how to avoid getting food poisoning. Trying to buy things fresh out of the hot oil is solid. Not buying anything with ice is a fool’s errand; just wait until you’ve spent a couple of hours under the sun in 35 degree heat with 85% humidity, and your willpower will melt faster than the ice. I’d recommend just getting the shots before you travel and being ok with the fact that if you spend any amount of time eating street food in Thailand, you will get food poisoning. Personally I barely gave it any thought; but then, with no colon, diarrhea is my normal.

I was also amused by how many people seem to take leave of their senses once they hop on a plane. In North America, if you saw a man selling mystery meat from a cart for 3$, you would never buy it and possibly call the authorities, but here you’d never think twice, and probably complain it should be cheaper! And I lost track of the number of white ladies I saw toddle down to a bike driver and hop on, wearing little more than flip flops, shorts or a skirt, and no helmet. Like they think being a tourist makes them immune to motorcycle crashes.

I found a sweet shop and bought a couple of things there; a roll with red bean filling, and some “coconut milk candy”. These were thick and slightly sweet, perfect for me.

Walked back to the hostel.

“Sawat dee krap, Lucy!” The man who checked me in says, as he’s manning the desk when I get back. “Less tired?” He asks in broken English.

Even in Thailand I am memorable? I suppose it makes sense; most tourists I’ve seen have been wandering around in shorts and tank tops, glued to their phones. Even when I’m on my laptop, I’m a bundle of joy, singing under my breath and popping off my chair to dance to a song I like. I often talk to the staff, even if I don’t speak the language; a shared glance, a laugh, a few gestures is enough.

The That language is hard to wrap my brain around, but I’m slowly getting it. A large part of it is the monosyllabic words that cut off abruptly, like an AI in training. It’s also gendered, and not in a way that’s easy to recognize, for a Western mind. The Sapir-Whorf effect is a thing, after all.

It rained a bit Sunday, a sudden tropical downpour. Each time lasted less than 20 minutes, but I imagine you’d be soaked to the bone if you were caught in it.

Crash around 9, up by 4 this time. I have to make myself stay up today.

The first thing I did in the morning (after breakfast) was get a Grab ride down to Wat Arun. I could walk there, but as I’d learned from walking around Wang Lang the other day, trying to get around the construction on the bridge was more trouble than saving a buck was worth.

Wat Arun means “Temple of the Dawn”. According to legend, the king who built it was coming down the river and saw dawn breaking behind the land where it stands now, and declared that would be the name for his new temple.

It costs 200 baht to get in to the temple, and they’re very efficient about it. They stamp your hand and shove a branded water bottle in to it, and then you just follow the crowd into the complex.

At most temples in Thailand, you have to cover your shoulders and knees. You also shouldn’t have any see-through or tight clothes on, but it’s not strictly enforced.

I was annoyed by all the tourists, parading around in sabai, pha nung, and chong kraben, posing in front of prang as if they were studio backdrops and not parts of an active church. It was as tasteless as dressing up as a priest or nun and posing in a church. Of course, I suppose the authorities allow it and the shopkeepers encourage it by renting out the outfits, but still.

There’s also signs everywhere asking people not to climb on the statuary.

The temple was equal parts fascinating and boring. There are very few signs around informing you of anything, so if you aren’t familiar with the iconography or construction, tough luck. It’s very pretty, but once your eyes have feasted, there’s not much to do.

I did note a lot of the decorative features are broken ceramic plates and bowls, which was fascinating. The prangs themselves are made out of a core of brick, stone depending on what was local, and then covered in a layer of stucco, basically cement, also depending on what could be locally sourced.

Kinda reminds me of a Ziggurat, actually.

The stairs are steep. Also, there are licensed photographers, wandering around with orange vests on with numbers. Pickpockets hang out around the temples to steal from gullible tourists, so only ask the photographers to take your photos.

Within the temple grounds was the main prang surrounded by the 4 smaller ones, in an imitation of heavenly Mount Meru, and then some outbuildings from when it was a royal palace. An assembly hall, a barracks.

I texted Hanuman about the iconography, but he was as lost as I was. Which I find curious; I expected Hanuman to have some idea what this stuff was, since there seems to be a lot of overlap with Indian iconography. I had to resort to Google, yuck.

The figure on the left, with green skin, is Tossakan. I find his inclusion to be the most curious, since he’s synonymous with Ravana, the ‘demon’ king, who is mostly known in Western culture for kidnapping Sita, the story of the Ramayana. Google ‘confirms’ he’s known as a figure of evil, but also a figure of strength, and I suppose as far as mortals are concerned, he’s been controlled by Vishnu and is no real threat. The figure on the right is Chakawat, his friend.

This figure is a Kinree, some sort of female musical spirit. There is a male version called Kinnar.

This is the central prang. At the top you can see a sculpture of Indra riding Erawan, a three-headed elephant. You also notice around the middle, we see Tossakan and Chakawat ‘holding up’ the prang.

And these I couldn’t find an explanation for.

Actually, the more I dug into it, the more it seemed to be Hinduism dressed up as Buddhism, with all the names changed. I found I could recognize a lot of it if I just imagined it was a Hindu temple.

The Garuda is prominent around here as well. It is the icon for the Royal family, as is the colour yellow.

There’s lot of bonzai around. I wonder why.

I sat down in the shade for a bit, once I’d seen everything. I didn’t quite want to go back to the hostel yet, so I opened the map and looked nearby. There was another temple nearby, maybe a 20 minute walk. I hit the bathroom and bought a Gatorade and headed out.

Google maps lied to me. This temple, called Wat Prayurawongsawas, is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays! Which made me sad, because I couldn’t justify coming back for it, but the promise turtle feeding!

I watched the stray cats play around for a bit, then I called another Grab and headed back to the hostel. We passed the flower market on the way; roses for 20 baht. Lots of those wreaths of orange flowers that they leave on the Buddha statues too.

Once I got there, I ordered some KFC. I was feeling like something familiar. There was a water bottle waiting for me on my bed.

As I sat in the common area eating my greasy chicken, a man stopped by and asked me for directions. His name is Bev, and he’s stopping in Bangkok for a couple of days before continuing to visit his family in Nepal. We chatted for a bit before he headed out.

After a bit, I went downstairs to the cafe. I need caffeine. I need to stay awake until 10 at least, to try and adjust.

There was no one in the cafe. I walked up to the counter, “Quiet today, huh?”

“Yeah, I think everyone is tired from the election.” She replied, in lightly accented English.

I ordered a coffee and settled down in the cafe for a bit. After an hour, I ordered a second coffee. The day passed lazily.

The bartending job I had secured in Malaysia cancelled on me. Apparently May 1 is a holiday and they wanted someone to work through the holiday. Instead of asking me if I could stay another couple of days, they had just cancelled with a brief note why! I debated trying to argue with him and decided I didn’t want to work with someone like that. I’ll find another.

Wandered back upstairs to have some leftover chicken for dinner. As the sun slipped below the horizon, it got buggy for the first time since I’d gotten here. Good thing I had bug spray in my bag!

I managed to sleep in ’til 7:30 the next morning. I might have slept in longer, but someone else on our floor has a bad habit of slamming the doors in the hallway, which woke me up.

I made my first foray into 7/11. I don’t usually frequent corner stores; of course, in North America they are the expensive, last choice option. Here? Totally different story. They have everything you need and cheaper than other places too.

Gatorade is proving hard to find. They have a local equivalent, called Sponsor. ‘Regular’ Sponsor is banana flavoured, which is hard to get used to.

On Tuesday was when it started to click for me. Thailand is the all-you-can-eat of vacations. You want to try a bunch of different foods? There’s markets on every street, or 7/11. You want to walk down the road and buy an ice cream for a dollar? Done. You want an hour long, full body massage for five bucks? Why not make it four? Why not make it two hours, or come back tomorrow for another? All of these things are possible. You can easily spend 50 dollars a day or more in Thailand… but you get so much more for it.

The people going to Thailand to party on Khao San Road and take pictures at the temples are missing the true beauty of Thailand. You can see it in the Thai people as well, when you slow down and watch. The unhurried manner with which the vendors set up their stalls. The way the storekeepers all hang out in the street when they have no customers, chatting with each other, snacking, playing on their phone. They’re not trying to “optimize” or “promote shareholder value”. They’re not worried about the hustle, trying to do better than the day before. They have enough.

It’s like an article I read about indigenous people in the Amazon displaced for mining. Much was made about “lifting them out of poverty”, but as the writer notes, before he was introduced to so-called civilized society, all he needed was food, water and sleep. He was having a good day if he found a beehive and could pilfer it for honey. Now he had to worry about taxes, payroll, and everything else that comes along with being “civilized”.

When I went upstairs to shower and get changed, the cleaning lady was around, and asked me if I wanted fresh sheets, which was kind of her.

In the afternoon, I went for my first Thai massage. There was a sign in the elevator advertising massage and saying to ask at the front desk about it, but when I did so, they explained she comes here when you have a private room. He pointed out a place on the map that I could walk to, so I did.

Much has been made of Thai massage, but no one had explained it to me well. I knew from Google that it’s supposed to work with the “energy lines” in the body, like Chi. That sounds like just what I need, frankly.

However, it’s also a workout.

The lady at the massage place didn’t speak English. She barked the price at me and led me to a curtained bed when I nodded. She flung some clothes at me and bid me to change. Once I indicated I was changed, she gestured for me to lay down on the bed.

Personal space does not exist in a Thai massage. I mean, I suppose it doesn’t for most, but you still usually feel like part of the process. She had no problem grabbing parts of my body and jerking them into place, and apparently the inside of my thighs were very tense. Since they use their bodies as part of the process, it included standing on my back at one point.

I left feeling like I had been beaten up, but also invigorated.

Me and Bev had made a plan to go to a free Muay Thai class later on in the day. Unfortunately, I miscalculated how long it would take to get there, and by the time I realized my mistake it was too late, so I didn’t end up going.

Later on in the evening, I tried going to a hostel near Khao San road for karaoke. I was feeling a little lonely, but no one showed up. I waited half an hour and headed out again.

On the way back to the hostel, I stopped at 7/11 and bought a Smirnov ice for 65 baht. I have a headache.

At midnight I had to get up to attend a Rotary meeting. Then I couldn’t fall asleep again for a couple of hours. Bleh.

I’d been shopping around for tattoos, and I finally decided not to get one in Bangkok. If I was going to be swimming in the ocean next week, I can’t have an open wound on me. I booked one in Chiang Mai instead.

In the afternoon on Wednesday, I walked down to the Bangkok museum. Very interesting, although I can’t help wondering how much of it is self-aggrandizing political spin. Where the museum is used to be the Viceroy’s palace, until that role was abolished.

Some of the stuff here is really cool, like the kids toys from 3-400 years ago that seem more intricately crafted than possible back then. I also learned they used to practice something called first and second burial; first burial was leaving the body out to rot, and then a year later, the bones would be gathered and placed in an urn to preserve them. Presumably this is reflected in the year between someone dying and cremation taking place in modern Thailand. There was a rule, at least for royalty, that after they gave birth, they had to lie beside a fire for a week. Something something spiritual reasons.

There’s A LOT of Buddha statues in this museum. They got a little samey after a while, although some of the dates and places are interesting, if they are accurate. 2’000 year old Buddha statues from Afghanistan? Now there’s a story!

On the way back to the hostel, I was taken by surprise. A market has sprung up overnight on the road the hostel is on. I asked one of the staff at the hostel about it, and she explained that it’s a travelling market, which spends a week in different parts of the city and comes around 2-3 times a year.

I was extremely lucky and excited to be staying there while it was in town. The food was amazing and cheap, as promised.

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The next day was a slow day. I had to do laundry, and my 300 baht shirt that I loved tore itself apart in the wash. Actually, some of the embroidery just came out, but I had a heart attack when I saw all my clothes tangled in the thread, I’ll tell you that!

The market opens around 4, so I had a light lunch and went down at 4:30. I love trying all the new things. I made myself try bugs; the vendor at the stall seemed to sense that I hadn’t tried it before, so she gave me a little extra variety.

I actually really like bugs! They fry them in oil and cover them in salt, so they have the texture and flavour of chips… except it’s 100% protein! This is great, why don’t we do this in Canada?

In the evening, I made another attempt to connect with other people, and ventured back to Khao San road. This time, the hostel bar was hopping with people. This hostel offered a free drink to anyone just here to socialize, so I ordered a Screwdriver and sat down with my book of word searches. I was wearing all black: my off-the-shoulder shirt, and my business skirt. Not exactly club wear, but it showed off my assets, and it was a test: who would be intrigued by the quiet girl?

I didn’t have to wait long. An American wandered up to me, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” I smiled.

His name was John and he was quickly besotted with me. If I was the kind of girl who could “lie back and think of England”, he would have been the perfect sugar daddy. He quickly showed me his Vet card to confirm his 5K a month pension (which I discreetly snapped and sent to a friend so they’d know who to chase down if I went missing), then ordered a round for the whole bar and had it dedicated to me, so that everyone had to toast to my name. In general, he was sweet, generous and eager to please.

We also had to endure the crass and cringe-inducing sight of the bartender pouring themselves a shot in a dick-shaped glass, then pretending to fellate it for a solid minute before actually consuming the alcohol.

I entertained John for a couple of hours, but he kept trying to convince me to get a hotel room with him that night and it turned me off. Which is probably a sign that I wasn’t that turned on in the first place, considering how I usually am around men I am attracted to. I told him I’m not that kind of girl and he gallantly ordered me a Grab back to my hostel. Then he kissed me without my permission.

Gross.

I made it back to the hostel mostly unharmed and fell into my bunk.

Weee…. I drank more than I meant to. Bleh.

I woke up around 6 and immediately knew the day would be wasted nursing my hangover.

I also had 40 texts and 2 missed calls from John.

Oh boy.

Apparently all the boys in the hostel were teasing him that I was way out of his league. Huh. I didn’t realize my beauty was that legendary.

I agreed to have him come over to hangout, but I quickly regretted that. He is a mess, and didn’t really want to talk about much more than wanting to have sex. Which, again, if I had the soul of a hustler, this could have been quite profitable for me, sleeping with an American for as much cash as he can withdraw on a daily basis. But I couldn’t make myself go through with it. I quickly sent him packing and deleted his number.

Spent the rest of the day relaxing. Went to the market in the evening and got myself some bugs and something called ‘sea grapes’, some kind of algae.

I woke up Saturday morning to another 16 texts. Apparently something I’d said had struck a nerve, and he’d realized he aught to go home and see his kids. Deleted his number again without replying. Yep, I’d dodged a bullet there.

Walked down to the Grand Palace to explore it, finally.

Technically the ticket is for the Grand Palace, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, and the textile museum.

It is indeed grand, very kept up, very pretty. The Emerald Buddha is a bit equal parts interesting and boring. For one thing, it’s not actual emerald; it’s made of jasper. But it’s very high up, hard to see. You also aren’t allowed to take pictures of it, but of course, someone has and posted it to Google, so I didn’t have to break the rules. Apparently it is the ‘palladion’ of Thailand, that is to say, an icon that symbolically contains the safety of all Thailand. According to legend, it was discovered in Chiang Rai, when lightning struck a stupa and broke off the stucco, 600 years ago. Apparently it was hidden there for centuries, and ever since then it’s been fought over and passed around the various kingdoms of Thailand.

On my last stop of the day, I went to the textile museum. Again, hard to discern fact from propaganda, but as a fashion student the alleged history of the garments was very interesting to me. The museum was dedicated to the late Queen Mother and her attempts to modernize Thailand, some 60 years ago when she was married to the king, and they were presenting a modern democracy to the world in a charm offensive. If it’s half as true as it claims to be, I must admit, I do admire her. It’s not a small feat that Thailand managed to escape colonization.

I could have gone to see some other things – like the reclining Buddha – but I decided against it. That’s enough sightseeing for one day. I went back to the hostel for some AC. In the evening, I went down to the market for some food, and watched a Chinese play being put on. They celebrate Chinese new year here… anything for the tourists, I suppose.

Oh, and I guess it’s Valentine’s day.

Two years since me and Rich had our falling out.

3 years since I’d said goodbye to Josh and Winter.

Valentine’s day is the day I filed for divorce as well.

It’s funny, I’ve been rereading Wuthering Heights, partially because of all the buzz around it with the new movie, which they seem to have finally turned into a proper bodice-ripper. I’m not as moved by the romance as the others, but then, I’ve been in that kind of romance. I often thought me and Josh were like Heathcliff and Catherine, but in the original spirit it was intended; two pitiless, destructive people, tearing down everything around them. Better apart than together.

I also find it amusing how much of the dialogue about Heathcliff could be about me as well, how he was a quiet child, who complained little, but for hardness, not softness.

I’m going to die alone, aren’t I?