Luckily, I am sweet blooded, thick skinned and, in the words of disco queen Gloria Gaynor, I will survive.
It all began a couple of days ago after a lengthy flight and a couple of countries...
It's always useful to stay at a place where the staff speaks little to no English and you cannot even attempt to gesticulate in the native tongue. This was most certainly the case as I gained entry into Bangkok.
After getting up to do work throughout the appropriate business hours in the US, I napped for an hour or two Bangkok time. Then, Sharlene, my compatriot for the first week of my journey, and I rose before the tuk tuks take over the roads and streets begin to bustle with people opening their shops and commuting to their commitments to get ready for the day. Our first day - in Bangkok.
A fried egg of which I palleted as much as possible, two hot dogs and white toast was on the menu this particular morning, and likely every morning thereafter at the hostel Khaoson Baan Thai. We happily accepted the included breakfast and, after the kind help of some fellow backpackers by way of Barcelona, we were off to explore.
Having secured us in a brightly colored pink and green vehicle with an old man who had an uncanny resemblance to a garden gnome, we were off on this stranger's agenda. The standing Buddha, where we lit candles for our respective lost loves, a tailor to get quotes for the cashmere suits we would never actually wear, and Golden Mount where I inadvertently raced a 7-year old to the top to witness a 360 degree view of the city of Bangkok and a front row view to Buddhists signing large sheets of red silk, presumably as part of their spiritual practice. We were swiftly moving through our schedule, we even had time to grab some strawberry ice cream, topped with mealy soy beans and optional condensed milk (yuck).
After our decent it was time to meet up with my real motivation for choosing Thailand as my destination on this particular journey. Having worked with the beautiful soul known as Laura Hahn several years back at a magazine in New York City I knew I'd made a friend for life and when the pursuit of a masters in gerontology brought her to Thailand I promised I'd visit. Never one to shirk the responsibilities of a verbal bond, here I am. Sharing my excitement for reuniting and feeling so good, she made her way into the city after classes to meet us and marvel at the temple known as Wat Arun, just across the river from Bangkok. Wat Arun is a space age structure made up mosaics and stone. It was truly awe inspiring, and my awe is hard to inspire.
Sweaty hugs were exchanged and steep stairs mounted making us quite certain that we had earned an afternoon delight at a noodle shop a 5 minute walk from the Wat. 3 noodle dishes, each delicious in their own right, and 2 bottles of Pepsi adjacent soda entitled Est, all for about 4 American dollars wasn't so bad and the establishment provided us with shelter from the midday rain storm that came down in angry sheets as we happily shoveled savory noodles into our pie holes.
I can't help but fall in love with the stray animals here in this city, most maintaining some amount of healthy glow, likely from the generosity of the Monks, yet with a sadness in the eyes that cannot be ignored. If I were less afraid of disease, ebola or rabies, I would most certainly build my own ark of lost animal souls, starting here in Bangkok.
Dampened by the drizzling rain and oppressive heat we managed to make time for one more Wat, Wat Pho - one of the largest and oldest in the area, before closing time and got to bask in the glow of a huge, reclining golden buddha looking happy as can be and stretching the length of a football field with mother of pearl feet delicatly placed at the far end of the temple. Beauty upon beauty, this particular Wat looked like something out of Asian Alice in Wonderland, and I wanted to drink the tea.
With low batt we needed a recharge and Laura, Sharlene and I all caught yet another tuk tuk back to our hostel. Knowing I would meet up with Laura again, after Shar heads back to the States on Tuesday we bid adieu and moved into room 102, as our room from the evening prior had already been booked. This particular room was an oversized casket, but I am easy to please and was so exhausted that I passed out, covered in the grime of the city and accumulating welts from the mosquitos.
Seeming to become a habit, I work after midnight to shower and change, offering myself no help in the lackluster beauty regime I typically keep and was out again before long, wet and in my Sutter Memorial scrubs sleep was greedily consumed.
