By Lucy

“I am, in truth, the Steppenwolf that I often call myself; that beast astray that finds neither home nor joy nor nourishment in a world that is strange and incomprehensible to him.”

• Herman Hesse, Steppenwolf

I did not sleep well Sunday.

I’m not sure why. Around midnight, I gave up and took a sleeping pill, but it had a paradoxical effect. I was left feeling even more wired and barely managed 5 hours of sleep. At 8, I forced myself out of bed and had breakfast. There was a cute Malaysian boy trying to chat me up and I hoped I’d run into him later when I was better rested.

I went back to bed because the sleeping pill had left me groggy, but I still couldn’t sleep.

I had made plans to hang out the Soroptimist ladies at 11, so at 10:30 I went down to 7/11 and bought an expresso shot to wake myself up. I also texted Nhan on a whim.

I’ve never talked about Nhan. Nhan is Vietnamese; we used to work together, when I was a seamstress. We bonded because her husband was diagnosed with cancer around the time I was diagnosed with the desmoid, and we supported each other a lot. Neither her nor her husband speak English well enough to navigate the health care system, although I don’t speak Vietnamese, I was around enough that I knew what was going on and could explain it better. I’m older than her oldest kid, but she often treated me like their older sister and started referring to me as her adopted daughter.

We stopped talking a few years ago. She’s Jehovah’s Witness and she’d often send me their recruitment materials, and to be honest… I’m not proud of it… but I got tired of declining it. She moved to Kitchener and I moved to Thunder Bay and we drifted apart.

Was it silly to text her just because I was going to Vietnam? It felt a little… manipulative. But I did miss her. I wouldn’t have stopped texting her if she had cooled it with the religious stuff.

She replied right away. We chatted for a bit, but she had sad vibes, even through the phone.

“My husband left me and the kids.” She says eventually.

“What?!” After everything she went through to help him with cancer, he left?? What a jerk!

Now I felt even more like shit. She must have needed me, and I was off galivanting.

“You could visit my family in Vietnam.” She offered.

I should visit her when I go back to Canada.

Then the ladies from the Soroptimists showed up, and I had to say goodbye.

Apparently most of the Bangkok club is fluent in English, which is a nice surprise that also left me feeling like a jerk. I met Voraluk, the club president, who was born and raised in Bangkok, and Eline, who is Bulgarian. They gifted me some Thai treats and one of those garlands the Thai’s hang from their rear view mirrors.

The gifts were very sweet, although I was immediately thrown for a loop. I had no room in my luggage for the large, rigid box the garland came in. Perhaps I should ship it home?

We walked down the road a bit. Eline wanted to stop and get some luk chup, and then we went into the Italian restaurant. The ladies were feeling some Western food, which was kinda funny.

I’m not gonna lie, I was hankering for some Western food as well. I mostly enjoy Thai food, but one thing I find I miss is cheese/ dairy in general.

Voraluk ordered a whole bunch of food; a whole pizza, a fish stew, and some fried fish. We sat there for a few hours, working thru it. Someone wandered past with a tiramisu and Eline wanted to try one, so we ordered one to share and a round of cappuccino’s. We had so much food they sent me home with leftovers.

It’s funny how often travelling makes you glad for what you’ve got. The Bangkok club is the only Soroptmist club in Thailand; there used to be a second club, but it folded. They’re struggling, partially because the economic system in Thailand is so screwed it’s hard for them to keep up on their dues. And they only have 25 members, despite being a city of over 10 million (Bangkok contains a quarter of Thailand’s population).

Eventually we had to call it, but I was glad to have met with them and I was kinda sad I was leaving so soon. Voraluk advised me that if I went to Phuket, the member I had first contacted on Facebook would show me a good time.

Well, I doubted I’d be able to get out there anytime soon, or I’d never leave Thailand, but that’s what return trips are for!

It’s a painful dichotomy; everywhere I go, I find reasons to stay longer or visit again, but there’s only so many hours in the day and I have so much to do back home…

The cute Malaysian boy was in the common room when I got back to the hostel. He was also 5 beers deep, from the count of the bottles next to him, and there were tears streaming down his face. At 2PM? Pass!

I put the desserts they gifted me in the fridge. Some of these Thai treats have a tendency to melt in the heat, which I find baffling.

Same, desserts, same. The constant fluctuation between stifling heat and full blast AC is taxing to my system.

I spent the rest of the day flaked out in the common room. I was so done with Bangkok. The big, smelly, polluted city. I didn’t even bother with sunscreen, the pollution is so thick you can’t even tan here.

There’s some more quirks I didn’t mention in my last post. For one, they have a different calendar here. They count from when the Buddha was alive, so their current year is 2589, which can be confusing. They also seem to have a different unit of measurement that isn’t imperial or metric, but maybe I’m just confused there as well.

There’s also some serious classism in Thailand. I haven’t spoken to any Thai people about it, but it’s obvious; there’s the upper middle class, who do the front-of-house and admin work, and then the lower class, who do the housekeeping. I’ve noticed that interacting with this lower class in any way provokes bafflement from them; they are used to being invisible, not thanked.

I did not sleep well that night, for some reason. I tossed and turned, but I decided against trying a sleeping pill again. I need my wits about me tomorrow.

Monday, moving day.

Got up, had breakfast, packed up. I was able to take the gift with me… for now.

Oh gosh.

I just realized.

I have to navigate a train station where I don’t speak the language.

Oh no.

Well, backpackers do it all the time. I should be fine.

When I checked out, most of the staff at the hostel expressed sadness that I was leaving. I’ve been around for so long and made such a positive impression, it seems. It warms my cold, flinty heart a bit.

Around 2, I walked down to 7/11 to buy food to take on the train, then I ordered my Grab ride. Got to the station around 3:30 (Grab was very busy).

Holy cow, the station here is nuts.

Pro-tip; get the cab driver to drop you off at Gate 4. That’s the departures gate. If you get dropped off at Gate 1, you’ll have a long walk to get to the other side.

Ok, my ticket says train 37. I found a sign that said train 37 is gate E 8. Ok, lets go.

There was a metal detector in front of the door. No one was manning it, so I wandered through, waited a moment as it beeped, and kept walking when it didn’t summon anyone.

The gate said the train was late, but it didn’t actually end up being late. I waited around for about half an hour, sitting on the floor in the station as there were no chairs, and then people started lining up at the turnstile.

Let’s pretend to be mute. I wandered over to a man in an official looking outfit and showed him my ticket. He pointed in the direction of the line, so I grabbed my luggage and joined the line. There were 4 queues and no indication which one I should stand in. Maybe it doesn’t matter?

It was absolute bedlam once boarding started. People loaded the train by handing luggage thru the open windows, which makes some sense I guess. I trailed onto my car following a small elderly woman in a hjiab. Her dress kept getting caught in her luggage wheels, so I took it from her and followed behind her. I doubted she could lift it overhead anyway. She smiled when she realized what I was doing, and pointed to where she wanted me to put it. I was proud of myself for being able to hoist her heavy bag overhead while still carrying my own bags. Then I had to fight my way back to my own seat and find a spot for my bags.

I was sitting across from a young couple for the trip. It’s funny how much of a conversation you can have with someone when neither of you speak the same language. We talked about the heat in the train car (it was boiling and I was soaked through with sweat) and the other passengers misbehaving with hand gestures and eye rolls.

The train is very loud. I finally had to pair my wireless headset with my phone, just so the noise cancelling could block out the sound of the train.

If you are worried about being hungry on the trains, don’t! There are vendors on every train, hawking food and cold drinks. They seem to get on at one station, ride it to the next station, then get picked up by someone and head back home.

Once we finally managed to escape the hustle and bustle of the greater Bangkok area, the flat river delta and rice paddies continued on for much of the journey. There were lots of temples visible from the train, as well. As we got closer to Hua Hin, I noted some small mountains in the distance; they must be the border with Myanmar.

I arrived in Hua Hin around 8, so only 15 minutes late. I was nervous about missing my stop, so I gathered up my bags and went to stand by the door around 7:30. For whatever reason, they don’t actually close the doors on the train, so I watched the ground rush by and wondered if this was vaguely dangerous. I never felt like I was at real risk of falling off the train.

Hua Hin is an awkward name. I was pronouncing it “Huwah Hin”, but apparently like Huawei, it’s pronounced “wah-in”.

The town was hopping. Chinese New Year. Apparently Thailand celebrates any and all tourist holidays, so the town was festooned in red Chinese lanterns and dragons. Drunk Austrians wandered from bar to bar as I stumbled down the roadside with no sidewalk, sweat dripping off me.

I finally made it to the hostel, located down a dark alley. The number pad for the door didn’t want to wake up, so I finally hit upon the genius idea of using the RFID chip in my phone. It came alive to be angry with me, and then I punched in the code and got inside.

The staff had all gone home, so I followed the instructions to my room.

A man popped up as I swiped inside the room. Oh right, I forgot that I had booked a mixed room. His name is Jana and he was like me; chatty, and deliberately trying to stay off the beaten path. A while ago his job switched to online and he realized he could travel and work, but he’s still learning the ins and outs of being a digital nomad.

We talked for a few minutes as I stood in front of the air con, cooling off, and then I had to excuse myself. I was exhausted.

I was so sticky I debated standing in the shower in my clothes, washing them and myself. I soon drifted off.

Around 2:30, I was awoken. Some woman from another room was visiting Jana (just visiting) and talking loudly. The grumpy Finnish man in our room yelled at her to go away (which is good, cuz I was close to yelling myself).

I slept ’til 9 the next morning. Ahh! The beds here are nice, soft, and the curtains are thick enough to block out most of the light. Time to pay for my room and find breakfast.

The guy at the front desk was nice. I paid and wandered down to the 7/11 to find something to eat. There was some yogurt there, so I got one of those and some canned coffee.

It’s much nicer here in the daylight.

This place is great; I already regret just booking in for 2 days, because there’s no easy way for me to come back here. This hostel is nice as well; the curtains are thick, the bed is comfy, and the location is mint. Nothing is more than 300 metres away. The beach is only 100.

I changed into my swim suit and brought my travel towel with me. I should shower off the salt, so the free towel the hostel gave me will be my shower towel. I doubted either of the boys would rob me, but I brought my key with me just in case.

It was cloudy, but I wasn’t arguing. Better than burning in the sun! The water was perfect, just warm enough, and the white sand was beautiful. The beach was full of rich old people, who preferred to lounge on the sand or stand with the water up to their knees. I ran into the surf and out far enough that the water was around my armpits when I stood. I frolicked for the better part of an hour, splashing around, floating on the waves and jumping over whiteheads.

Aah! This is living! I always say I’m not a beach bum, but I do feel better when I’m by the water. Growing up in Alcona, the beach was such a part of my life. Some of the happiest memories of my life were at the beach.

Especially at the end of June. Around the end of June, when we have school exams, there was an event called Summerfest, with vendors and rides by the beach. Every day, I’d finish my exams, then walk down to a secret beach and spend a couple of hours swimming with Josh. Then I’d have to go home for dinner and pretend I’d been at school studying, before going down to Summerfest with the rest of my friends and hopping on some rides.

Those halcyon days… still, the shine has worn off them a bit. My life now is so full of things, it’s impossible to pretend I’d rather go back to that. It was formative, but in the past.

The things that felt so big now seem so small.

I’m not sure I’d recognize me anymore.

After an hour I called it, before I overexercised. Went back to the hostel and showered off the salt.

Somehow I lost the lock for my luggage. I searched everywhere and decided it must have fallen in to my clothes. Fortunately I have a spare, so I opted not to tear my clothes apart looking for it.

Jana was bored and free, so we decided to go grab a bite to eat. He showed me the mall across the main road that seems to contain every single object known to man. Want a lawn furniture? Groceries? Jewelry? All of it exists in this mall.

We wandered around for an hour, just marveling at everything. There was a roving show for Chinese New Year as well, a dragon… puppet? Dancers, drummers.

This week is just stacked with holidays. It’s Chinese New Year, Ramadan, Lent, Valentine’s…

We went back to the hostel. I had a nap, then went up to the common area on the top floor. There’s a small kitchen, and a couple of patios.

The grumpy Finnish man is something else. He’s clearly north of 50 and he wears nothing but band shirts and jean shorts (not that I’m arguing, he’s got great gams). He just lazes around at the beach or sits on the balcony reading a book, and he cooks his own meals. This guy is living his best life.

I chat with him a bit, but he clearly there to be alone so I try not to disturb him much.

Around 4, me and Jana head back to the beach. The tide is out, coming in, so there’s lots of large waves. I run out into the surf and have a lot of fun jumping over the big waves, and letting myself be knocked over by others. The waves scare Jana and he goes back to the shore and lounges instead.

After another shower, me and Jana head back to the mall for dinner. He manages to get out of me that I’m writing a blog, and he’s instantly star-struck, asking if I am a celebrity. I deny that I am, but I suppose… I kind of am. Ask anyone in Thunder Bay and I am. But it’s not like I have a lot of followers on Instagram or something.

“Why are you single?” He asks.

Hah. Is he flirting? Still… “I’m difficult.” I say, without thinking.

He bursts out into laughter. “What, really? How?”

I shrug.

“At least you’re honest.” He says, still grinning like he doesn’t believe it.

Is it? I’m not sure how difficult I am, really, but I could never shake this feeling that there was something incompatibly wrong with me.

We stop by 7/11 and buy some liquor. I get a small bottle of rice wine on his recommendation. He buys a small bottle of whiskey that he wants to share between us, but I don’t want to get drunk.

We find a spot on the beach to sit. Technically you aren’t supposed to be drunk on the beach, but we find a seating area next to a bar, so we can pretend we’re just at the bar if someone comes by and gives us a hard time about it.

It’s nice here, listening to the waves. There’s lights of ships on the bay, in the distance. I’ve figured out that the lights I saw from the plane were fishing boats.

We sit there for a couple of hours, talking about travelling. I drink my bottle of rice wine. He drinks most of the bottle of rum and gets very drunk.

Later on in the evening, he kisses me on the lips.

Ah!

Hmm…

Umm…

No.

I wait about 15 minutes, then I call it a night and go to bed.

I was crying before I woke up.

I rolled over at first, hoping to muffle my tears in my pillow and go back to sleep, but I quickly realized that wasn’t an option. I was suffocating; no matter how much air I gulped in, it wasn’t enough.

I grabbed my phone, my room key and my water bottle and ran upstairs before I woke anyone. I went out on the patio and collapsed in a chair, bawling my eyes out and wailing. It was all I could do to suck in air between sobs, clawing at my throat like someone had their hands around it.

This was it, the feeling on loneliness I’d been suppressing for who knows how long, washing over me.

I stood up and grabbed the glass railing with both hands. One little jump, and it could all be over…

Paul talks me down, of course.

“Drunk enough to not suppress it?” He asks.

“No, I’ve definitely been more drunk.”

“You let your guard down.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should, you just don’t want to.”

Maybe he’s right. I sit back down, still sucking in lungful’s of air. Vacation is supposed to be relaxing, not… this.

After half an hour or more, I cry myself out and crawl back into bed.

---

I’m tired in the morning.

Tired from sleeping? Hungover? My midnight cry wore me out?

I forgot to spray bug spray on my feet and I took my shoes off when we were on the beach. My feet are covered in dozens of itchy bites.

I grab breakfast and set myself up in the common room, where I stay most of the day. I had a plan to go for one more swim, but around 10AM, some dark clouds rolled in and there was a serious rain. Rain always summons jellyfish, so there will be no swimming today!

Paul has not been editing my posts. He’s been too busy with work. That makes it harder to force myself to write (don’t tell me how many mistakes existed in my last post, I know!)

Jana packs up and heads out. He only booked a couple of nights here, and the hostel is fully booked tonight, although it’s not that every bed is full. It’s that there’s only so many beds the housekeeper can turn over per day.

I feel very conflicted about him. I felt a little conflicted about hanging out with him before, but the kiss bothers me. After a while, I text him to admit the kiss bothered me. He doesn’t apologize and just says he thought I wanted to kiss him.

At 4, I wander down to the beach. There’s a couple of people in the water. I wade into the shallows a bit, but I quickly notice a jellyfish and hop out again. Not worth getting stung. Grab lunch and head back to the common area.

The hostel is loud that night; some of the guests get in late. I use my sleeping mask and ear plugs pre-emptively.

I was up at 5:30 on Thursday. Time to move again.

Changed, packed what wasn’t already packed, and let myself out of the room. Went up to the top floor and had my little breakfast. I’d bought a canned coffee and a sweet roll labelled “butter roll” the night before, and the butter part turned out to be a little more literal than I thought. I’d presumed it was Engrish and it meant sweet cream, but it was closer to butter than whipped cream. That’s a bit much for the first thing in the morning.

Dropped my key in the cup on the desk.

Ordered a Grab to the train station. Too far to walk this early in the morning. My Grab driver was an old man who wouldn’t open his trunk and had me put my bags in the back seat, for some reason.

The station was buggy and full of farang who had never ridden the train before. How did they get here? I was a good Samaritan and explained to them that you can’t go up to the platform yet. Then I watched the sun rise over the town.

This train was a little nicer, with normal seats facing forward, instead of the hard bench seats arranged facing each other.

There was another meddling old man on the train. He took umbrage with how my bag was stored on the overhead rack and insisted on turning it so it was shoved to the back. Was he worried it would fly off the rack?

This trip was uneventful. Second verse, same as the first.

I spent about 3 hours at the Bangkok train station between trains. I found a booth selling waffles stuffed with cheese, which was yummy. I don’t miss Western food much, but I must admit, cheese is one of the things I am missing.

I found a spot to sit down, and as I did so, I felt my elephant pants rip. And not a small rip either.

One of the good things about travelling with all your worldly belongings is that, had I wanted to, I could have jogged to the bathroom and changed. I didn’t much feel like it, though, so I just tied my rain coat around my waist and left it there for the rest of the day.

As I waited around, doing my book of word searches, a little girl – maybe two years old – toddled over and made a spirited attempt to climb onto my lap. I froze, unsure what the culturally expected response was. I glanced around, and didn’t see any parents. She seemed to find my face fascinating, but I do know touching someone’s head is a big no-no in Southeast Asian culture, so I didn’t encourage it. Instead I played peekaboo with her, which seems universal.

After several long minutes a woman ran over, looking harried, and then relieved. Using hand signals, she explained the little girl had escaped while she was using the bathroom, and was quite taken with my white skin because she doesn’t see it very often. She wrestled her away from me and thanked me profusely for looking after her.

What an odd experience. This must be what it’s like when an Asian kid is asked why their eyes are slanted, or a Black kid is asked why they have textured hair.

I talked to Nhan a bit more. Her eldest is working at BMW, and the two girls are interning for a lawyer and studying to be a nurse. I’m glad they’re all doing very well, career-wise. Nhan asked me if I was single and went off on a screed about how being single is so much better than being married when I confirmed I was. It breaks my heart… she and her husband were solid last time I heard. How did that happen?

I also contacted the Soroptimist club in Cambodia. There isn’t a club in Vietnam… for whatever reason. There’s only relatively new club in Cambodia, in Phnom Penh, but they agreed to meet.

I’m starting to feel like Lucy, Pokemon club collector. Where should I draw the line? Or is this instinct to connect something I should embrace?

This train was nice, and the ride shorter. There was 5 monks on this train, seated in the monk assigned seating by the door. Why do monks travel? Hanuman has no answers this time.

I was quite distracted by some construction along the way; a raised track, it looks like, but it could be a highway as well. I find it interesting, how much their methods resemble ours. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Can’t reinvent the wheel?

I jumped with a start when I realized we were nearing Ayutthaya.

I stood up, grabbed my bags, and went to wait by the doors. A man sitting with the monks motioned for me to stop and sit. I didn’t want to decline out of rudeness, but I was also wary of accidentally touching a monk. Also, who is this man? I perched on the armrest just so the weight of my luggage was off my shoulders.

One of the monks gestured, as if asking me where I was getting off. “Ayutthaya.” I answered.

He said something in Thai, the man who asked me to sit translated, “How many days?”

“4.” I replied, looking at the monk.

All 5 of them gave me a long, intense look. What, am I interesting? Aren’t I just another farang? Monks are not supposed to engage in idle chatter, and talking to a farang about her travel plans seems pretty idle. I did notice they seemed interested in me taking pictures of the construction. Maybe something about me struck them.

Walked to the hostel. It was a 40 minute walk, but the train arrived at 3 and I didn’t see a point in spending money on a Grab when I had all the time in the world to rest and walk.

Ayutthaya is definitely a tourist town, existing more or less to service the tourists who want to see the ruins of the old city. That being said, there is a surprisingly large and vibrant Japanese community in the town. I didn’t manage to fit visiting the Japanese museum into my schedule, but my basic understanding is that a lot of them are the descendants of ronin who fled Japan. When the capitol of Thailand was moved to Bangkok, they couldn’t afford to move and stayed behind.

I finally arrived at the hostel, which was a nuts and bolts hostel. There wasn’t a kitchen, but there was a breakfast bar with a fridge and a microwave. There were two rooms, one with 8 beds and one with 4, and a co-ed bathroom that had 2 sinks, 2 toilets, and 2 shower stalls, and that was the hostel. There was no common area, unless you counted the hallway and the patio, which I didn’t. The room were nicely AC’d, but the curtains were bollocks. The light was on a timer and turned off between 11 PM and 8:30 AM, which at least spares us the usual argument about when to turn the light off.

I should have washed my clothes in Hua Hin; there’s no laundry at this hostel.

Got myself settled, ran across the road to grab dinner from 7/11, then went to settle in on the patio. I’m not doing anything tonight.

“You look lost.” I said breezily to a boy who was sitting on the patio, staring pensively at his phone.

He looked at me with a start. I expected a joke and a brush off, not this. I’d surprised him with my accuracy.

“Ah, yes. I just got here today and I don’t know… what I’m doing.” He said in a thick accent that was definitely Italian.

He was an odd sort. He had a hair cut that couldn’t decide if it was a mullet or a mohawk. He had a piercing in his nose and another in his ear. He was wearing cargo shorts and a white t-shirt, but his voice was a clipped, slow cadence.

He had deep set brown eyes. They could easily make him look like a thug, except they were too warm and curious.

That sounds familiar.

We chatted for a bit, and then we both lost interest. I went back to my laptop. There’s a little grey cat that hangs out around the hostel; stray cats and dogs are pretty common in Thailand.

I made myself stay up late, conscious that trying to stick to the 11 o’clock lights out would be easier for me.

I was rudely awoken around midnight. The Italian boy was in the bunk above me, and as I later learned, a night owl. He’d come back in to get ready for bed and was using his smart watch as a flashlight, which shone easily through the curtains, as the lockers were at the foot of my bed. I gave him a few minutes grace period and then stuck my head out of my curtains to give him a stern look, which seemed to have the desired effect.

I slept in ’til 9, but then I needed it.

This hostel advertised free breakfast, but their free breakfast was instant coffee with powdered creamer, toast or corn flakes, and bananas. Hmm.

There was another woman on the patio who hailed me, “You must be Canadian.”

“Did my accent give me away?” It rarely does; people usually tell me my accent is either German or Kiwi, ironically.

“The orange shirt.” She nods. I was wearing the “every child matters” shirt.

“You’re American, though, right?” I ask, doubting myself.

“Oh, yes.”

She’s a very aware American, then. We sat down and talked for a bit before being joined by the Italian, who’s name I learned much later was Filippo. The woman told us she’d been volunteering with a tribe in northern Thailand called the Karen, who are refugees from Myanmar but don’t have official status in Thailand.

I discovered, when I posted about it in the Discord, that we have a Karen restaurant in Thunder Bay called Salween, which is interesting.

First thing’s first; I need to do laundry. In addition to washing my clothes, this hostel doesn’t provide towels, so I need to wash the salt off my towel to shower with it. I walked down the road to the laundromat I’d passed on the way.

The laundromat was very cute, painted a bright blue, with yellow flowers around it and fake grass for a floor. The symbol for the place was a racoon, curiously. There were little desks with benches around, and a dispenser for water. The ladies there found me amusing: not used to farang, I think. I could have figured out the system by myself, but they showed me around anyway and seemed amused by me. They also gave me a waterbottle.

I googled the name: Kirei. It’s Japanese, actually.

Ekster had a new wallet for sale. I usually ignore Eskter’s offerings – I have a bag and a wallet that works, after all – but then I realized the new wallet is red. Bright, firetruck red. How could I not? It was only 100 bucks! I had it shipped to Paul’s house; he can just throw it in my box with my pants and I’ll get it when I get those back.

I’m finally starting to tan a bit.

After laundry was done, I walked across town to a boat noodle place that has a Michelin star. Boat noodles are unique to the Ayutthaya area because they were cooked on boats and served to the workers transiting the canals in the area. Of course, very few boat noodles are actually on the water anymore, but the flavour is unique, as is the history.

They serve small portions, so you need to purchase at least 2, but each one is only 20 baht. So you can have a little all-you-can-eat and order 3 or 4 different kinds at once, and try them. They also offer “chrysanthemum juice” for free, which has a rich, buttery taste.

Some of the streets here are still the original brick cobblestone, which I love!

I didn’t plan much for today, because at 3:30 was the “sunset boat tour”.

We met at the hostel and were all squeezed into the back of a tuk-tuk. Filippo was there, a few girls, and this loudmouth Dutch man who’s name none of bothered to learn, although I found out later it was Tim. We all grew to resent him immensely; he fancies himself a vlogger, so he’d constantly be chatting into his little GoPro without even asking anyone around him permission to film, and he was also an ignorant piece of shit. He later told Filippo that he missed Pattaya and that he prefers East Asian girls to Latinas because they talk back less, which makes it especially funny that he ended up sitting next to me, because I came damn close to punching him out more than once.

Once we got to the dock, we were unloaded into the usual Thai boat.

Then we waited.

And waited.

We waited at least half an hour. Long enough that someone asked if there’s crocodiles in Thailand and we all started getting a little nervous (yes, but not enough to worry about it, unlike Florida). What there are in Thailand are monitor lizards, which look a lot like Komodo dragons and can grow to 7 feet long, but they don’t hurt humans.

When the last couple finally showed up, the captain put them on the bow and told them they were getting the “Jack and Rose experience”. (Let’s hope not)

The boat is very loud.

We did a loop of old town, visiting three temples. The first temple cost baht to enter and I’ve seen lots of temples, so I declined. I hung out on the dock and watched a man feed the catfish.

The second temple was free, so I opted to stretch my legs.

So, funny story. There’s two parts to this temple. The part to the right off the dock is smaller and less interesting, but it’s also the ‘obvious’ direction, so everyone ahead of me went that way. I saw a sign for a reclining Buddha, however, so I went to the left and some people followed me, before noticing we had ended up in a less maintained area and getting second thoughts.

I had fun wandering around. Especially since the reclining Buddha is hidden at the back, like a scavenger hunt!

The third temple also cost money, and was the longest stop. It was around this time that the sun was actually setting, so I got some lovely photos of it backlit by the setting sun.

“I wonder what the Buddha would think of all these statues of him being covered in gold. Doesn’t seem very… holy.”

Filippo nods in agreement, in a way that suggests he’s not really listening.

“And why does he always have nipples?” I add.

He snorts, “Because men have nipples?”

“But he’s wearing robes, you can see the neckline! Why would his nipples be showing through the robes?”

Filippo pauses to consider this seriously.

“Where in Italy are you from?”

“Emilia-Romagna.” He smiled. “I was studying in Denmark.”

“I was going to ask why you have a northerner’s accent.” I smiled. “Gonna check out this night festival they’re having?”

“Yeah, why not.” He says.

Then it was back to the dock and into the tuk-tuk and back to the hostel.

“Well, shall we go to the market?” Filippo asked, as we stood around the patio at the hostel.

My head whipped around. Nothing about his demeanour suggested he wanted to spend time with me, and yet, apparently we had plans.

“One moment!” I said, and dove into my bunk, hurriedly getting changed.

As we walked down to the night market, he mentioned that he was debating buying a motorcycle and going on a tour, but he jumped every time we got dangerously close to a car. I laughed, “You can’t drive a motorcycle if you’re scared of sharing personal space with a car.”

“Aye, maybe.”

“How did you end up in Thailand?”

“I just finished my PhD, and I wanted a little break.”

“You studied in Denmark, then.”

“Yes.” He sighed, “I wanted to learn the language, but they all speak English around the campus, so I never learned.”

How curious. An inquisitive mind.

We wandered around the festival for hours. We got there around 7, catching the end of the drone show, and then walked a steady lap around it. I grabbed food here and there and made Filippo try some of the standard Thai things he hadn’t sampled yet. He’d been in Thailand only about a week, but hadn’t really prepared for it at all, and was still pretty dazed and confused. I started splitting my food with him; buying something just so he could have a bite or two, and then finishing it myself.

There was so much to see and do! There was several petting zoos, at least 3 stages of live music, one live Muay Thai stage we found (there might have been more), and a Midway, complete with rides and games. All of it was woven in between the old temples, through the main terraced street of old city Ayutthaya; vendors set up on cobblestones that were 700 years old.

When we got to one altar that was all lit up but a little quieter, we stopped and watched a firework show.

We were slightly horrified at one point to discover the little rotisserie birds were the quail-like birds you see all over the street in Ayutthaya. Not horrified enough not to eat them, though; I only didn’t buy any because the vendor warned me they were ped mak; very spicy.

Eventually we ended up at this little seating area, ringed with vendors and displays of Hindu/Buddhist critters. We sat down for half an hour here; we needed the break.

By now, it was starting to be very obvious that every person we talked to thought we were a couple, and a few of the vendors had tossed teasing comments our way. Filippo didn’t comment on it, but it made me blush.

He asked me a lot about the Hindu mythology of the figures and I tried my best to answer the questions. There was a fish symbol everywhere that I only learned about later. Thai mythology believes the world used to exist on the back of a fish, and the sky held up by a pillar on the fish’s back… and… that’s all I got.

“Are you Buddhist?” Filippo asks.

Am I? I’ve known all the key elements of Buddhism for so long I forget that it’s not a common thing to know. And my friends are usually people like Hanuman, who can keep up even if they aren’t familiar.

As we were heading out around 10:30, getting lost and finding more things we hadn’t seen yet, we wandered past a booth selling pants. I’d been glancing at those as we passed by, but I didn’t want to get burned by buying another pair of tissue-thin elephant pants (I also had my heart set on them being purple, which is confusingly rare in Thailand). These ones were different, though; thicker, with pockets, and the elastic waistband was at the back to make your tummy look flatter while also allowing you wiggle room. They were perfect, and the store owner gave me a discount, which I imagined she regretted when the only money I had left was a 1000 baht note.

I went right to bed when I got to the hostel. Filippo is a night owl, so he went out to do other things.

I woke up before basically everyone else the next day, had my disappointing free breakfast, slathered myself in sunscreen, and headed out.

The first place I stopped was Wat Plub Pla Chai, which is free and just sits by the side of the main road.

The second one I saw was right next door, Wat Ratchaburana. This one costs money, and you can buy a multi-pass for the other 7 main Wats that’s valid for three days here. This one started construction in 1424, and for a while it was the “royal” temple. It’s also one of the temples where you can enter the main prang, partially because this one had been looted. When I was there it was full of bats nesting for the day, which made me feel like an ancient explorer discovering something long abandoned.

This is also where I discovered my HI water bottle actually keeps my water cold. Up until now I had been buying water bottles from the store, which I hate doing, but I didn’t trust the taps at the various hostels labelled “drinking water” to not just be unfiltered tap water. This hostel had a proper water dispenser, which… could also be a lie, but I gave in.

The last Wat I visited for the day was Wat Mahathat, which became the royal Wat after Ratchaburana fell out of favour. This Wat is less interesting to me than Ratchaburana, because the central Prang has collapsed and it’s generally in worse shape, but it’s famous because this is the Wat where there’s the Buddha head in the trees.

After this, we were getting close to midday, and I didn’t want to be out between 11 and 3 to avoid the worst of the sun and heat. I walked to the post office, first… I was still carrying around the postcards I had bought in Bangkok, because post offices are surprisingly hard to find in Thailand!

I popped back in to the hostel to grabbed my laptop. Filippo was finally awake; he had a plan to go to a market, then rent a bike and go to a Wat outside of town to watch the sun go down. And the Dutch blogger no one likes was accompanying him, for some reason.

I walked down to a matcha cafe nearby. I had hoped to get myself some matcha and some treats, and then settle down in the AC and write for a couple of hours. The matcha was excellent, but within minutes of me settling in, a busload of Japanese tourists were dropped off and took over the shop noisily, so I packed up and went back to the hostel.

Around this time, Filippo started texting me his regret at letting the douchebag join him, which I found equal parts amusing and bemusing. Why is he complaining to me? Had we established that sort of rapport? He made a joke about being too much of a yes-man, and I jokingly asked him to marry me so I could get EU citizenship, since Rich won’t talk to me anymore (not that a limey is helpful in that regard).

I’d had plans to go out again around 3 or 4, but as 4 slipped behind me, I still didn’t feel much like going out. There’s always tomorrow, I suppose. For dinner I bought a burger from a street vendor, which was honestly a pretty stacked burger. I wanted a taste of home and she delivered.

Around 7, Filippo came back and returned the bike to the hostel. He was catching the 8:30 night bus to Chiang Mai.

I was starting to become aware of the fact I found Filippo attractive. I’d been fighting it, though, burned by the last two guys kissing me without my consent, and also how cagey Filippo was being. He was more chatty over text than in person, which Paul pointed out probably pointed to him being shy and more confident when he can edit what he’s writing before hitting send. I tried to chat with Filippo a bit in the hallway, but he was still being sort of distant, so I went back into my room and hung out on my bed, watching TV.

Then I got a text, “I am leaving, see you in Chiang Mai or in the future”. Kiss face emoji.

What?

I jumped up and wrenched the door open. He was still standing in the hallway, looking vaguely guilty. Not expecting me to run out and say something? Hoping I had been asleep?

We stood and chatted for five minutes, until his Grab arrived. No kissing ensued.

I went back into my room again.

Now he was gone, my thoughts couldn’t get off him.

Twenty minutes later, my phone lit up again; “Did I forget my phone charger in the hall?”

I dutifully went out into the hallway and checked. Yes he did.

Hmm… how much do you want to bet that he ‘forgot’ it so he’d have an excuse to see me again?

The next day was the same; get up early, explore the ancient city. The Dutch vlogger was still here, for some reason, probably at least partially because no one wants to talk to him.

“One thing I have realized from being here is that I like a man who is smart and I can have a conversation with, but I just love a man who just listens to me talk.” I half jokingly said to Paul, as I walked.

This was half-true, of course. They need a brain; I hate talking to men who obviously don’t have enough in the ol’ brain box to process what I am saying, and just nod along ’cause I am pretty. But Filippo had wormed his way into my thoughts because he was thoughtful and a good listener, compared to the other two, who were talkers. He also didn’t try to kiss me. It’s a fast learning curve for what I will and won’t accept.

I also realized, musing on it, that I do enjoy ‘the chase’, because it allows me to feel like I am in control. Not to the point that I won’t engage if I’m not the one chasing, but there was no denying that the fact I was having to pursue Filippo a bit was slightly more enticing than the opposite.

The streets were strewn with detritus from the week-long festival.

At one point a puppy escaped from someone driveway and started following me down the street. I insisted on walking it back to the house, because I couldn’t shake the worry that it would be run over on the street.

First stop was Wat Phra Ram. This is the oldest Wat in Ayutthaya, so far as I could tell, and it was slowly sinking. It was built next to a small pond, which was dug out as the construction continued, and eventually the small pond started consuming the temple, so it was abandoned.

The next stop for the morning was the most preserved of the old city itself, with plots marked out for residences, shops, etc. I noted the directions the other tourists were going in, and immediately went in the opposite one. I’m getting really tired of farang, not appreciating the history, and jostling each other for pictures.

It reminds me of ancient Maya. I’d read an article recently about how there was no epic “great collapse” of Mayan civilization that resulted in the dramatic abandonment of cities. The culture just moved on to the next location, which was common enough in aeons past, especially before property tax was a thing. Both Sukhothai and Ayutthaya were testaments to that; there had been no dramatic collapse, just a slow trickle as the next city became more ideal for settling, due to changing socio-economic systems and politics. In the case of Sukhothai to Ayutthaya, from different strains of rice being popular, and from Ayutthaya to Bangkok, a change in how people travel.

As I wandered around the ancient city, it occurred to me… The Buddha must have been lonely as well.

Hah! Comparing myself to the Buddha.

Not that I think I am so peerless as the Buddha, but it’s comparable. A mind unfathomable to most people. Introspective from a young age, looking for answers.

Maybe I am a Buddhist.

In high school English class I was a league of my own. My grade nine teacher came as close as anyone did to understanding me, or at least, to understanding that no one could understand me. She happened to be in the library as my grade ten teacher was trying and failing to find something for me to study, and suggested going head and shoulders above our reading level, with Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. Which was curious, in hindsight, that my mother had never suggested it to me, since I know she was a fan of Hesse and The Glass Bead Game.

She was correct and it was a good choice. My first introduction to Buddhism, and the lessons in the novel stuck with me from that point on. I found myself often turning to the lessons in the parables to help guide my unhappy career in high school.

And now… well, it’s funny that Herman Hesse himself is also from Baden-Wurttemberg (where Oma was born and raised) and he also discovered Buddhism during a tour of South East Asia, before it was fashionable, more than a hundred years ago.

Truth stranger than any fiction…

I text Hanuman; “Wouldn’t the Buddha feel lonely?”

He replied somewhat later, “I think the Buddha would have known loneliness at the start of his journey, but upon Self-Realization, there was no more loneliness because he knew we are all one and there is no real separation. I’ve experienced that depth of connection for brief moments.”

That would be lovely.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt it, although I know it, logically. Why haven’t I felt it?

It occurs to me that I do have a tendency, within myself, to reject connection.

That seems like something I should work on.

Alright, enough musing in the hot sun before my brain boils in my skull like an egg.

There is another large temple nearby that’s notable because there is a large gilded Buddha inside. However, the statue was behind a hoarding for renovation, so there wasn’t much for me to see, and I didn’t linger long.

There is a covered market outside the temple, so I stopped for some lunch and something cold to drink. My dad had been texting me all morning, including apologizing for not texting me more often, which I found interesting because I hadn’t expected him too. Probably he was still feeling worried about me being overseas.

As I ate, I thought to myself, my mother would like this. Following in Herman Hesse’s footprints, wandering around ancient cities. I’m surprised she’s never attempted to do a tour of South East Asia. Perhaps it doesn’t speak to her in the same way it speaks to me.

Well… Not that I want to complain about her more than I already do, but this comes from a place of pity… I don’t think she’s capable of real self-reflection. When I was a child, I didn’t understand her fascination with history and old places. Now that I’m older, I recognize what it was was a hunger for belonging, the same one I now experience. Except she doesn’t realize that she’s doing to me that same thing that was done to her; denying me access to my roots and a sense of family. And despite filling my head with dreams of backpacking, I don’t think she ever did, and I don’t know why.

I walked back to the hostel through this little street that cut right through the middle of old Ayutthaya. No farang have noticed it; it was empty, despite being shaded from some large trees, and cool. I stopped to watch a large monitor hunting in the shallows of a nearby pond.

When I got back to the hostel, I was still ravenous. I stopped by 7/11 to buy some candy and some Sponsor, then I called Paul and chatted with him for a bit, since he’s on night shift. Mid afternoon is a lonely time for me, as all the night owls are in bed, and the early risers aren’t up yet.

Relaxed around the hostel for the rest of the evening.

Woke up before my alarm the next morning. Ate something quick before ordering a Grab to the station. Funnily enough, my Grab driver was a matron who asked me if I’d have breakfast, probably ’cause she’d seen a lot of farang not taking care of themselves.

I had booked the only day train to Chiang Mai. The train/ bus is usually overnight, because it takes 10-12 hours depending on how many stops it makes, but the day train is an express and only takes 8. It also allows me to see the countryside, which is what I really wanted. Since I wasn’t changing locations often, I wanted a better view of the country.

Before the train arrived in the station, the conductor yelled in English for where we should stand, as changing platforms requires walking across the tracks.

This train was only three cars.

It was also AC’d. Oh joy!

There was no food vendors on this train, presumably because there was so long between station. Instead there was a commissary who came around offering food from time to time. She took orders for a hot lunch, to be served around 1; when she realized I spoke English, she left and came back with the order options typed out on her phone for me to point at.

I sat beside a woman who ended up getting off in Phichit. My next seatmate was a man who had booked separate tickets from his partner, it seems. He only sat next to me for half an hour before the seat beside her was emptied for the rest of the trip, and he went to go sit with her, so I was by myself.

I couldn’t take pictures of the scenery because the windows were so dirty. For the firs 6 hours, it was cranes (as in the bird), rice paddies, and concrete pylons. Small ramshackled towns, in the Thai style. The grandmother’s in front of me discussed their grandchildren.

There were some funny things by the track. A giant Hulk in front of one house, for no apparent reason. Dinosaurs by another.

Around Uttaradit, it changed. The flat fields abruptly gave was to mountains, short jagged hunks of granite. My uneducated theory is that the shore of the Bay of Thailand used to come right up to these mountains, and over millennia it has been slowly filling in with the clay and limestone washing out of the hills.

It’s probably also no coincidence that Uttaradit is where old Sukhothai was. The gateway between North and South.

A tropical jungle on a mountain is something that you have to see with your own eyes! I was quite taken by it, as we weaved between peaks and into long tunnels and across trestles.

Bamboo in the wild is hilarious. After it reaches a certain height, it starts to lean over, so every bamboo grove looks like a head of broccoli.

It was getting hazier as the day wore on. I noticed some fires here and there; farmers preparing their fields.

Finally, at 5, I was at the end of the line: Chiang Mai.