Escaping Pattaya - The Treetop Adventure, or Pattaya Part Tree

The Daylight Hours between
A Nightta Pattaya, Parts One and Two
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The sun was up, and I knew I wanted to get my day moving, as it was my last in Thailand. Slightly disappointed in myself for sleeping in, I rushed down the elevator in search for breakfast.

Upon entering the lobby, I was greeted by the same receptionist from the night before.

"You're up early." she stated in disinterested surprise.
"Am I?" I answered, still half asleep.

She nodded towards the clock on the wall. 6:30?! I guess I was up early.

Taking advantage of my early hours, I left the lobby and jogged (/walked.) along the boardwalk for a couple kilometers. This would be the only time I saw Pattaya Beach in full daylight.

An hour or so later, I returned and was talked out of eating breakfast at my hotel, by my hotel's staff, and directed towards the buffet down the block at their sister hotel. Strange, I thought, but I did eat my fill before finishing my morning on the rooftop pool.

After deciding on a new hotel to stay in, and catching a motorbike taxi to get there, I found a travel agent, set on discovering some of the nearby islands.

Unfortunately, I was told, all organized trips had been booked at least a day prior and left before any of the agents were open in the morning. Renting a private charter to an island just wasn't worth the money as a single traveler. Neither came as a big surprise, though both were a slight disappointment.

I asked her if there was anything else, I could do. After the previous night's festivities, I wanted out of this city. She pointed at brouchers like "Zoo" and "Snake Show." My complete lack of interest clearly transcended the boundaries of bi-lingual communication.

"You don't seem like someone who wants the regular kinds of tourism..." I grinned and shook my head to confirm her thought.

It was around this time I allowed my attention to focus on a poster I had seen several in various locations.

"What about that?" I asked inquisitively. She smiled, knowing we found the one.

Flight of the Gibbon: Asia's Treetop Adventure.

I was sold. Completing the transaction, and dashing back to my hotel room to prepare, I met the small bus back in front of the travel agent's small office. Last to be picked up, I took my seat and turned to greet my companions-in-adventure: four young Israeli men, and their Thai girl friend.

Making brief introductions, we set off for our ride. Not long later, we found ourselves in the secluded Champoo Wildlife Sanctuary, not far outside Pattaya.

After the ritualistic signing our life away, promising we know we could die and it would be our fault if we did, the six of us strapped in our harnesses, grabbed our helmets, and met Mike and Don, our Tree Top guides.

The two guides were incredible, and fully knowledgeable of the surrounding forest and history of our expedition. The pack of eager adventurers hiked up hill before climbing the first platform. It was here we were told we stood on the first of 24 platforms with 16 zip lines, and several free-fall rappels looming ahead of us. Most of our group swallowed hard, and shifted nervously; some double checked their safety lines.

One of our guides strapped in, launched himself off the safety of the platform and rushed through the trees before landing several meters away on the other side.

"Your turn," the remaining guide smiled. It was at this point I knew we were in for a lot of fun. None the less, I couldn't help but look down...

Flight of the Gibbon was an incredible adventure for your atypical tourist, and a great break from standard Thailand fanfare. I found myself bonding with 7 strangers, to the point I was sad to see them go at the end of our tree hopping. The wildlife sanctuary was breathtaking: out of city smog, and in the grasp of nature, the setting offered as authentic an experience as possible.

And the zip lines, the free falls, they were by no means watered down. At the peak, we soared over one hundred meters above the ground. The longest line lasted over 300 meters, we glided like flying squirrel - or, well, gibbon - from perch to perch.

At first, it wasn't easy to trust the cables and harness that held us. But as time went on, it was encouraging to see how each member of the group became more and more willing to dive off the ledge and let go of their inhibitions... and their white-knuckle grip.

All-in-all, I'd say my unplanned Plan B was a soaring success. If I was to chalk up the score on this Rematch Trip to Thailand, I wouldn't hesitate to say I came out on top.

Treetop, that is.

A Nightta Pattaya - Part Two

This is a continuation post from A Nightta Pattaya - Part One
---------------------------

Showered, and now looking -- and smelling -- like a functioning member of society, I set out in hunt for some incredible Thai food.

The women of the Pattaya Beer Bars began to clamor for my attention near the moment I stepped outside.

"Come, come on, just one drink"
"I'm... I'm really hungry."
"Do you want some company? I come with you. You so lonely."

"I'm not lonely, but solitary.

"Really though, I just want some food. Is there anything good around here?"

The ladies pointed me in the direction of an outdoor eatery that was obnoxiously sponsored by Heineken. I took the suggestion, nonetheless, because of the stage and live music.

In my travels through Asia (Taiwan, Thailand, Hong Kong), I've found a common thread with non-native English speakers performing English songs: Mispronunciation and misinterpreted lyrics. I'm glad to say, however, this late-evening eatery with the band who looked straight out of Scott Stapp's fan club - Thailand branch, was a great exception to the rule. And boy, was it.

In fact, their performance was near flawless...

What drew me to the patio was not the flashing neon Heineken sign on the stage, but the serenade of my all time favorite Aerosmith ballad. Even from across the street, it was unmistakable. As I drew closer, the band moved to the chorus and I confirmed my excitement. The singer brushed back his hair and belted out, in great Steven Tyler fashion, "Don wan Messy Ting."

After ordering what I hoped would be the best coconut curry I've ever tasted, I sat back to listen to more music.

A female vocalist donned the stage and offered her rendition of Sarah Connor's "Bounce Baby On the Door."

At the time of my order, I requested from the menu what looked to be a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice (they didn't have Thai Iced Tea). During this song the waitress brought me a cup of Tang...

The vocalists teamed up for a slow ballad, certain to be a cross-platform crowd pleaser. Even in Thailand, a little Country goes a long way with an audience.

It was a touching affair, and the duo shared a strong sense of chemistry on stage as they seemingly sang to each other Shania Twain's "You Still the Why I Wan."

My food was served. And while the coconut broth of my soup was admittedly delicious, I couldn't for the life of me piece together the sticks and leaves floating next to my chicken. It wasn't until half a song later that I realized the foreign floating objects to be dry bamboo and stale basil (though I had seen a planter with remarkably similar leaves just outside the "kitchen tent").

As I continued to crunch away, and began opting for the meat-itarian version of my meal, the drummer and keyboardist hit the first note of the band's final number, which nearly made me choke on a rogue bamboo shoot the moment I heard it.

Could it be? A chart topping smash hit by a Southern California band from my own backyard? The first line confirmed it: "I holdin on yo rocks got me ten feet on the ground." Yes, this was the work of none other than One Republic -- made famous by Timbaland. Unabashedly, I sung along with the chorus: "Is too late to Paw-jiz-eyes!"

Despite my disappointing meal, I left the cantina thoroughly... entertained... by the stage show.

After a quick trip around the block, it became clear to me that I would not find anything to top that entertainment in this part of town. So, decidedly, I returned to my room and retired for the evening.

My next night in Pattaya, at a different hotel and different part of town, I found the cuisine to fit my fancy - and a tall, frosty glass of Thai Ice Tea to boot. If you've never had Thai Ice Tea, search out your local Thai food joint, and ask for some there. Now. My blog will be here when you get back.

When the last of my meal hit the bottom of my stomach, I thought to myself, "Where's the one place I can go where I know I'll find other travelers and won't be hassled by the working girls... and boys."

(Did I mention Thailand has one of the largest populations of openly transgendered people? "Lady boys," as they're known, are simply considered a part of Thailand's tourist culture. Sometimes it's blatant, sometimes... you'd never guess it. I'm no anthropologist, but I have a thoughts as to why they're so affluent here.)

I digress.

Only one place came to mind, but I knew it was all that I needed. Walking along the street with determination, I stopped only when the neon lights illuminated my view. I arrived.

The bar/venue at the Hard Rock Cafe and Resort, Pattaya was quite less than packed, but the Thai-filled house-band was about to hit the stage, and promised to be an improvement on the previous nights affairs.

They did not disappoint. And I was right about my hunch. As soon as it became painfully obvious that I was there by myself, a guy/girl duo of Australian friends bounced over to me and told me of their pact with each other not to let anyone in the bar that night sit alone. Not one to cause others break pacts, I was obliged to join them.

Hard Rock closed early for a nightlife-driven town, so my new friends Lyndon and Cassie, and I hit the streets. I was surprised to find the working class of Pattaya were much less persistent - or even noticeable - when traveling in a group.

We walked the streets and the beach, and even popped into McDonald's (or Mackers, as they called it) for a late snack; they had not yet eaten dinner and it was open all night.

Having to catch an early bus to the airport the next morning, I retired to my room with very little time for any sense of a good night's rest.

Though I enjoyed my time, and though my second night proved a great advance over the first, I never did have the chance to relax on the beach for long hours during the day.

Why, you ask? Well for that answer, you'll simply have to wait until the next post.

A Nightta Pattaya - Part One

I blame the man on the plane for sending me to Pattaya.

He was certainly an interesting fellow, quite eccentric. A Singapore national living in Bangkok, by way of Taiwan and Australia, he signed divorce papers, packed up, and backpacked the US for an entire year, drifting wherever the wind and free rides took him.

To his credit, I don't actually believe he meant to be malicious. In fact, he probably would have done the average joe-backpacker a favor by suggesting Pattaya. Then again, maybe I should have been warned when his "Ride the skytrain to the last stop, and you'll find the best 100 baht buffet, and the only $100 baht/hr Thai Massage in the city" advice turned up void - which put me out an hour's time and about $20 baht on the above-ground subway and left me riding the bus on an empty stomach.

But maybe I just didn't look hard enough. And maybe when I said "I want out of Bangkok and would love to see the beach" he genuinely thought "Pattaya" to be the best and closest option. And maybe it was.

Yet, if you're a single white male traveling alone with absolutely zero interest in hiring a prostitute, Pattaya is about the worst choice on the planet for "Beach City Vacation." It's like saying, "I really want to see the rich culture of Amsterdam, and heard there are cheap rooms in the Red Light District... I'll stay there."

Live and learn, right?

In haste, I hopped on my bus leaving Bangkok for the beach city, and assumed I would find a currency exchange there. I began to panic and take note of all the 24 hr McDonald's along the way, as it quickly became 8pm before I arrived. But the open-aired taxi driver assured me I would be alright, and persuaded me to let him take me there. I'm proud to say I brought his price down from $150 baht (about $5 US) to $50 baht (about a buck fifty). It wasn't so much a negotiation as it was a "You've got to be kidding me" response to his first quote.

Along the way, the driver slowed to roll around a turn. At the corner, a group of girls in their late twenties let out a whoop from their beer-bar seats. Puzzled, I turned to my Middle Eastern cab mates, intending to ask if the ladies were acquaintances of theirs, but the two stared back at me with a look that told me this trip to Pattaya might be more than I bargained for.

After passing 3 or four, the taxi dropped me off in front of an illuminated teller window. Completing my transaction, I began to walk towards where I presumed there would be a hotel. A large, gaudy looking building with an illuminated sign that said "Inn" or "Lodge" or both, I really don't remember. I do remember a few bellhop looking young men and something of a well dressed host. I assumed this all added up to Hotel.

My bad.

Approaching the entrance, backpack in tow, I began to form the sentence "Do you have any rooms?" directed at the host who appeared in charge of the front door. As the last few words were escaping my lips, the dual sliding glass doors hummed open, revealing a wide expanse of a lobby and glass window at the far end. Behind the Plexiglas perched a score of beautiful Thai women in pretty pink outfits.

My feet skidded to a stop, and a single eyebrow arched towards the ceiling.

The glorified Bellhop must have seen the expression on my face as I slowly backed away from the door and turned to leave. "No, sir, we no have, but down the road have Excellent Hotel." I blinked, and nodded in thanks.

Along the route to this excellent hotel, I passed another beer-bar. And another. And... wow, there's a lot of these here.

A Pattaya beer bar is a bare-bones, no walls, bar, stools, and a couple tables establishment. It's a bar that would like to pretend that it looks out across a flat sea, where the open atmosphere beckons in fresh, salty air, but it's actually two blocks and two hundred identical beer-bars away from that setting.

And at the corner table, closest to the entrance, sit a half dozen ladies pining for someone's attention. At every. single. bar. Unbeknown to me, I fit their M.O.

Lucky me.

Excellent Hotel now in sight, I bee-lined for the real bellhops, who ushered me inside. (I would say something to the effect of "with eager women diving for my heels," but that would be superfluous.)

Even with the 50% discount they were offering, the hotel was more than I cared to spend, and more luxury than I required. I told the nice lady behind the counter that I would search around the city, and come back if nothing else fit my needs. She snickered.

Immediately upon stepping outside, backpack still in tow, it began to rain. It felt like a scene from a Jim Carey movie. Not the blockbusters, but one of the ones his fans try to sweep under the rug and pretend not to associate with him.

I sighed. Turning on my heel decisively, I set off in the general direction of "different hotel." Equally decisive, the rain poured down harder. After a quick weigh of options -- A. hunch-back panch-clad soggy street drifter; B. risking taxi scam in a hotel hunt; C. A night of undue luxury -- I decided to humble myself and return through the doors of the Excellent Hotel.

In an attempt to preserve my pride, or something, I paused before entering and looked at the bellhop:

"Is there wireless internet in the room?" I asked through inquisitive eyes.
"Certainly sir."
"Sold, I'll take the room."

Once, I heard that travel writers are treated well in these types of establishments, so I tried to slyly drop that bit of (stretched) information at the desk. It did me no good. Instead, I believe the staff took pity on me - the soggy drifter who stumbled in like a wet dog. They likely made a joke or two at my expense in Thai, though the waitress from the bar was kind enough to walk over a cup of cold grape juice while I was signing paperwork. Yeah, grape juice.

After I finished there, I spun towards the elevator - my soaked sneakers squeaking on the expensive floor - and made my way up to the 6th floor shelter that would be my home for the 13 hours to follow.

After a shower, and a bit of lounging, I decided to set off into the city in search for an authentic Thai meal.

But what I found instead... well, that, you'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.

Rematch.

This is a first. I'm blogging from the Taipei International's terminal.

I had some time, short but enough of an excuse to get off the island, so I decided I wanted a rematch against Thailand.



I'll update when I can, and be back after the weekend.

In the meantime, you can catchup on my last trip here

Adventures in the Back of the Bus

Adventures in the Back of the Bus - The Thailand Edition.

Thailand proved to be quite adventuresome when it came to bus rides. Here's a recap of my encounters:

The Mini-Bus: In Bangkok, I stopped by a travel agent who booked me a "bus" ride from the city to Koh Samet. Sitting, waiting, I watched large, luxury cruisers pull in and out of the station. This was going to be nice. Around the time promised, the agent stood up, and said "Your bus is here." Innocently, I walked up to the luxury bus which sat directly outside the office. Four hours of this, it'll be a great ride. But the travel agent tapped me on the shoulder. "This, airport. You, there," he pointed across the busy street. My gaze followed his finger and halted at the sight of a minivan - or as he called it "Your minibus."

The ride was long, but fine. I met some great people on that ride down. We quickly bonded over shared stories of Asian travel - and surivial.

Bangkok was hot. Too hot. So hot that I couldn't eat lunch, and instead bought the largest water bottle I could find, and attempted to drown myself in it. This was fine, because the water never actually went into my stomach. No, before it sloshed down my throat, it was catipulted out every pore. But that changed in the bus. The bus had AC. I started to absorb the water, and my bladder began to revolt against me.

Needless to say, I was quite thankful when we parked for a planned pitstop. Apparently, so was everyone else. When I left the curtain-door restroom, I passed a line of my busmates who crawled out from the minivan seats behind me.

Browsing the refrigerators of this 7-11-styled open-air mini-mart, I decided to settle on ice cream. They picked a cold beer, but I had no interest in putting any more liquid in me for awhile. As we were sitting around a teetering table, one of us glanced over at a pile of luggage sitting on the driveway.

"Guys... I think that's our stuff."

It was. Our bags had been dumped at a roll-up mini-mart at least another hour's drive from our destination. Our driver was gone.

"How long do we wait past the time he said he'd be back before we start looking for another ride?"

Minutes crept by. But just about the time we were deciding how we could split a cab 8 ways, our minivan pulled up, and out poured around 20 people. Apparently he decided not to tell us he was involved in a bit of a search and rescue mission.

After he loaded the van back up, we piled in and made it to our destination without a hitch. My new friends continued to the island. I said goodbye, and hopped into a taxi for my beach-side hotel.

The "Taxi": The next day, at check out, I decided to follow my friends lead and head over to Koh Samet Island. The conciere called me a taxi - which was cheaper than the ride the night before, so I was thankful. But what pulled up was a small truck, with a tarp over the roof and minimally padded seats lining the bed's walls. The driver lowered the tailgate, tossed my bag in, and directed me inside. I felt like a refugee.



He knew my plan was to head to Koh Samet, so when he slowed to a stop, he pulled up in front of a pre-destined travel agent, who instantly bombarded me with "Koh Samet Ferry! Buy from us! Koh Samet Ferry! Come here, Come! Where you go?" The driver came around the truck and stood between me and my option of walking away. I put my backpack on, thanked him for the ride, and approached the Ferry-shouters. Their price was fair, so I hopped on the back of the motorcycle-shuttle who drove me down to the docks, climbed aboard the waiting ferry, and made it out to the island with a full day ahead of me, and a new friend Roger with a restaurant promising to store my bags and feed me.

The Bus: On the island, I found another travel agent - my third at this point. She sold me a minibus ticket - I knew what that meant - from the mainland to Bangkok for the same price I paid to get across to the island the day before. What a score! But I played it cool, acted like it was merely an "acceptable" price; I'd learned a thing or two about The Land of Swindlers. Then she asked if I had a ferry ticket yet. I didn't. I half expected her to now double the price, with maybe only a slight "package discount." She didn't. The price she offered was only one fifth of my ferry ride the day before. Altogether, I was paying less than I did just for the minibus from Bangkok to the beach town!

I didn't have a motor-shuttle this time round, so I boarded the ferry everyone else was boarding, and flashed my ticket to a ship hand, "This one?" He shook his head yes. I sat down next to my South Korean friends from the minibus down. They were headed back to bangkok as well. It wasn't long until the captain came around and told me and a couple others that our yellow tickets were actually for the ferry no one was on yet, hidden up at the front of the pier.

Figures.

I shrugged my shoulders, said goodbye to my friends, and marched my way towards "my ferry." On land, I found the mini-bus load-in, and searched for a bite to eat. I passed a restaurant and spotted another young, solitary traveler, and asked if the food was good. She was finishing her plate, but said it was, so I sat at an empty table to fill my stomach before the trek back.

By the time I finished, the rest of my new mini-bus mates had already piled in. Another giant waterbottle in hand, I set it, and my sunglasses, down to pick up my pack. Sadly, I never picked either up.

I loaded my gear, and crawled and clambered to the only available seat left... the back row. Though I had luggage on every side of me, I took advantage of the empty space, and stretched out a bit. Four hours of this? I could take it.

About 10 minutes down the road, however, we stopped. Did we break down? Another search and rescue? No, even better.

I glanced behind me. Lo and behold, there was the giant luxury bus, just like I'd seen going to the airport. To my excitement, the driver unloaded our gear, and loaded it into the bus. I said goodbye to the world of Thai Mini-Bussing for the last time, and said hello to traveling with style.

Since the luxury liner was already partially filled with other travelers, I decided not to go to the aft or top deck, but move forward. Good choice. I scored a seat in the very front, which allowed me to kick up my feet and sleep for the first leg of the trip.

Maybe a half hour down the road, we stopped at another mini-mart. There, I replaced my giant bottle with a new one, and sat down next to the traveler I kept bumping into. We talked while the driver stalled for time. I knew she wasn't in the premium seats like I was, so I invited her to sit next to me. She introduced herself as Camille, and said she was from Quebec. We passed the time sharing stories of her three months in Bangkok, Laos, and Vietnam; of my 8 months in Taiwan. All the while, our feet up, riding in style. The bus parked half a block from my hotel where we stored our bags then hit the streets for some last minute shopping.

Overall, I have to say my Thailand bus experiences were frankly, less than orthodox. Though, I may have feared for my life in the refugee truck, or thought I'd been stranded by the soccer-mom bus, each trip got me to my destination safely, and on time. I met terrific people along the way, and made some friendships and contacts that will continue long after we've left the Land of Smiles.

Nonetheless, it was quite comforting to be back in my big green bus, after I landed in Taipei and rode home.

That's a Lotta Buddha

Wat Pho, Temple of the Reclining Buddha
Bangkok, Thailand

Thailand Photo Reel - Koh Samet

Two days is simply not long enough to spend on the small paradise-like island of Koh Samet. White sands demand more attention than a short weekend can provide.

The Island's National Park has plenty for the explorer in you - that is, if you can pull yourself out of the water. Stepping into the wake is like having your mother set your bathwater to just the temperature your baby-bum required.



At night, walk the beach in the dim light of the stars. Stop by to meet fellow vacationers at one of the dozens of restaurant/bars, and you may find an empty lounge cushion on the sand with a view of the nightly beach-side fire show.

Just outside the National Park's beach, on the main drag of Koh Samet, you'll find a small host of restaurants, guest houses, and massage shops - offering authentic Thai massage. (Note: If you're in Thailand, a Thai Massage is a must.)

Now, if you do find yourself on Koh Samet, be sure to stop in at the Red Ginger. Only open a month's time, the Red Ginger is the retirement project of Roger, a Canadian who left the world of broadcasting, and pursued traveling. Of all the places in the world he's been, he's now calling Koh Samet home. I met Roger on the ferry ride to the island, and he immediately invited me to his restaurant and home. We shot the warm island breeze over the entree he selected for me. Undoubtedly, Roger has a place on my list of favorite fellow travelers I found in this Land of Smiles. When you go, try the Chicken in Mushroom Sauce, you won't be disappointed.

After 8 months in urban Taiwan, the cluster and crowd of Bangkok grew stale fast. Koh Samet proved to be my true vacation spot on this trip. Before leaving, I knew I would one day return. The paradise of Samet Island is one that beckons you to sit and stay awhile. And on my next trip, that's just what I'll do.

The Land of Swindlers

If the best part of Thailand is the people I met, than the worst part is the people I encountered.

Thailand is a country of con-artists and swindlers. Before I arrived, I read up on the street scams aimed at travelers. In short, a conman, posed as a friendly face, guides foreigners to a jewelery store or tailor where they are forced (sometimes even threatened) into buying over-priced or worthless merchandise. Constantly, I was forced to turn people down, tell them no, refuse their requests. It came to a point where I trusted no one. If they looked like they had something to sell, or wanted to drive me "wherever I want" (yeah, right), I avoided them like the plague.

Even to a fault. They tended to point the opposite direction from where you're going and say "Oh, such and such is over there" just so that you'd pause and rethink your steps - this allowed them an opportunity to approach you and chat you up "Hey man, where you going? Where you from, my friend?" I learned their methods early on, and began waving them off and plodding along in my path. Well, more than once, they were actually pointing me in the right direction. After choosing not to listen to them, I ended up walking through the "Thai-only" entrance of a temple. Whoops. So much for respecting culture.

Along a Bangkok walkway, minding my own business, a bird lady shoved three baggies of what looked like trail mix between my back and my bag.

"You have, it's good! Thailand" and other broken-English phrases were spat in my direction. I thanked her for the munchies without breaking my pace.

"No! Look!" She grabbed a bag, opened it, and poured it into my hands. Corn kernels? Instantly, my feet were flogged by every Bangkok pigeon in a mile radius.

"Oh, I get it now." Before I could process that single thought, three more bags were poured into my hands. Braver Birds were on my arms and wrists. I tried to walk away. Another bird-lady dumped her corn nut baggy into my open, flat, spread-finger palms. I turned my hands over. I was done.

"one fifty! one fifty!" the first spat harshly. She counted her empty bags, and demanded near $20US. At this point, I was tired of this city's swindlers. I was angry. I matched her harsh tone, and pleaded American ignorance. Begrudgingly, I reached in my pocket and pulled out a few bucks ("fool me once, shame on me...") and dropped them into her hand - pocketing the rest while she grasped for more. I was done. Walking away, I could hear the bird ladies holler and squabble like the pigeons at their feet. That's okay, I wasn't about to turn back.

But that wasn't all. I bartered taxis and knick-knacks. I saw the price for food and drinks change faster than I could turn around. Two times at 7-11, I was over-charged for a Big Gulp because it had Thai Tea in it rather than soda. When I called them out on the price change, the cashier shook their head and insisted on their price.

I don't enjoy bartering. I don't enjoy feeling like I have to swindle a few bucks out of people, or that I can't trust a conversation with anyone.

It's funny how the best thing and the worst thing can be the same thing. It's funny how even though the people I met were the highlight of my trip, it was people who made me reconsider my decision to come to Thailand at all.

In the end, though, I feel like I learned some - about myself, and about culture around me. I've never been great at having to say no to people, but I think I learned how this weekend. The fact is, we can't get away from people in this life - be it con-artists or honest fellow travelers. The ability to tell apart the swindlers from the fellow drifters is a skill worth cultivating when navigating through life.

The Land of Smiles

Sunday, I returned from Thailand. It was an incredible trip, I'm already planning my return. I feel as though the purpose of this visit was simply to inform me of all that I have yet to see.

I would love to pack my new backpack and set off for a month or more. There's so much to see, so much to do, and so many amazing people to meet.


On a bus ride, I met a girl from Quebec who has been backpacking alone for 3 months, simply because she yearned for adventure before entering University. Camille and I talked for hours, got off the bus, shopped, ate dinner, and talked more. Her trip came to an end today. Knowing this, I spent much time quizzing her on her experience and lessons learned and favorite moments. She spoke of trekking through Vietnam and Laos and Thailand; river rafting, bus trips, and hill tribes; temples, water fights and friendly faces; and most of all the confidence a journey like this brings. Before she finished speaking, I knew I would return to this region.


After a night in Bangkok, I was ready to leave the smoggy congestion of Urban Metropolis, and found myself on a bus trip to a small island called Koh Samet. Yet to be flogged by foreign tourists, Koh Samet is not more than a National Park situated on a quiet island.

The bus ride down proved to be another great meeting place for fellow travelers. Sitting next to me were a brother and sister from South Korea - whom I later met up with when back in Bangkok. The rest of the mini-bus was filled by two young ladies from London, a German fellow - who has been traveling in Asia for months - and two South Africans now teaching in Bangkok. That group bonded quickly, and I stumbled upon their beach bash and spent my second evening away from the city with my new global comrads.


While out with a group of local Thai, I met a young girl, a street vendor named Lookrnam. She was incredibly cute. She sold packages of gum. Though I don't chew gum, I bought several. She sold roses. I bought a few of those, too, and distributed each to my new Thai friend Oum - it was her birthday - and her friends. Every night, Lookrnom hits the congested, touristy streets of Bangkok to sell her knick-knacks. Despite her situation, she wore a bright smile that lightened the dark midnight streets. Thailand is dubbed "The Land of Smiles" and no one embodied this to me more than Lookrnam. After 20 minutes of losing at Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lookrnam stretched my hand out and tied on a braided string bracelet. She told me she wanted me to remember her. Having nothing to give in return, I pulled out my journal, tore out a sheet, and wrote her a note. Though her spoken English is more than adequate, Oum translated the written text to Thai. Lookrnam hugged me and thanked me with her signature smile.

One last chance encounter, and the highlight of the trip: With a little planning and strategic schedule shuffling, I was able to see my dear Floridian friend, Cathy. Around the time I moved out of the State, and back to California, she moved to South Korea to teach English. Since my arrival to South East Asia, we've been tentatively scheming a plan to get together. But a few months ago, she up'd and moved to Thailand. This worked perfectly for our scheming and we enjoyed a great breakfast on two stools at a stand on a street corner. Cathy's perspective on Thai food is "The crappier the place looks, the better the food is." When we selected where we'd eat, the only comment I could muster was "I bet the food's fantastic."

Due to an early flight, our time together was brief. (And due to the fact that I forgot my watch was set an hour earlier to Taipei time, our visit was even briefer.) But it was a treat to see her, nonetheless.

The next few posts will be further expansion on my trip. But, as you know with me, people come first. This trip was too short. Thailand is a beautiful country, with too much to see and do. But by far, what I enjoy most about traveling is the people you meet along the way. They inspire and reaffirm you in your journey - just by watching them in theirs. Whether your time together is a bus ride covering a vast expanse of land or breakfast on the corner; whether you divulge in the adventures of life, or simply share a smile, their presense in your journey is invaluable.