Noteworthy Firsts

Getting the bike onto a train from Trang to Chiang Mai proved more difficult than employees had previously guaranteed. An important Thai phrase I learned immediately was “mai dai,” roughly translating to “no can do.”

Paul demonstrated a stoic calmness while navigating through all the ridiculous logistics and cyclical conversations that come with finagling a 650 CC Kawasaki Versys onto a train. (Here it should be stated that not a single train station in Thailand appears to have any sort of ramp or device that would really aid this process significantly. A simple two by four would have done the job). Meanwhile, I attracted attention from locals that ended up in some man proudly taking off his shirt to show me all nine of his tattoos.

Traditional style-- he insisted I photograph this one

Long story short, our delay led us to enjoy a lovely southern city called Thung Song that boasts an incredibly entertaining evening market, complete with a live band and carnival. I learned that worms and crickets are served as a delicacy alongside dates and cashews, which is foreshadowing events to come.

Savory Beetles and Herbs

A 14 year-old boy kindly escorted us all around town to search for a decent hotel on his motorbike sidecar, and we carefully weighed all the options before finally settling on a room for 10 USD. Our young driver refused to accept payment from us, so we found his family’s food stand in the market for dinner. He shyly stood by as I sweated through another meal that is generally considered mild.

Our next chore was exploring town on foot with a bottle of whiskey.

The evening stroll led us to the local “Best Pub:” a trendy spot that featured a teenage rock cover band and even let us bring in our own bottle.  Apparently, the waitstaff are accustomed to providing a bucket of ice and constantly passing by to refill your drink for you. This is the first time I’ve used the phrases “corking fee” and “Johnny Walker” in the same sentence.

The band’s ability to hype up the crowd with Korean Pop and Thai hits was coupled with unique interpretations of groups like the Cranberries—I was certainly not alone in belting those lyrics.  And I’ll pay the next band money NOT to cover Gangnam Style, thank you.

They even had matching tattoos around their biceps

This evening provided my first experience using a squatting toilet under the influence. Without going into too many graphic details, suffice it to say this maneuver requires core balance and quadriceps strength I thought I had abandoned in the high school weight room. Luckily, I already had some practice using the Thai bidet and was not wearing heels at the time; otherwise, disaster surely would have ensued. I'd love to know how the combination of heels, frog pose and porcelain doesn't end in more accidents for some of these more sharply dressed ladies....

The end of the night found Paul and myself standing confused in the glow of one of thousands of 7-11 stores you’ll come across here.  After walking a few kilometers in the wrong direction, we finally swallowed our pride and asked some young men with motorbikes if they knew our hotel. After some unintelligible chatter, one of them offered to give us a ride. Paul boldly hopped in the middle, right behind our generous driver, while I clung to the back of that tiny scooter for dear life, constantly reminding myself that while these things are only built for two, I’ve seen far more impressive feats of human stacking on these machines, often with babies and dogs.

We buzzed around until streets began to look familiar, and--once again--this kind individual refused any compensation for services rendered. That is, until we offered him a swig of whiskey and sent him scooting along his merry way. He was very grateful for this gesture and wished us a good evening. I just can't believe I had managed to hold onto that bottle while balancing myself on 4 inches of seat. 

The next day I witnessed my first Thai thunderstorm, so Paul and I sought shelter at a family massage parlor that offered a little something extra. (It's far more innocent than what you're probably thinking.)

They had a lovely little boy, about a year and a half old, who was a Thai masseuse in training. He greeted us Donald Duck style--shirt sans diaper--and assisted his parents in the therapeutic art. 

Perhaps not the most traditional or therapeutic, my experience was nonetheless enjoyable. This youthful no-pants method was my introduction to Thai massage, complete with laughter followed by tears followed by giggles, and a few toy trains thrown in for good measure. 'Twas an emotional roller coaster. 

I mean just look at how relaxed Paul is

I am enamored not only by the friendly and helpful nature of Thai people, but also by the beautiful habit of smiling at strangers and exchanging pleasantries. This seems to be lost on so many other cultures. The peaceful acknowledgement of another person is so simple and can lift one’s spirits in an instant. I noticed immediately that people here exude beauty because they always smile with such ease.

Even if someone doesn’t know the directions you seek, they will often go out of their way to offer some assistance and don’t think twice about it. If they can see that you don’t understand what they tell you, it is not uncommon for them to walk with you to your destination or simply give you a ride, without you even asking. The transit employees did eventually board both us and the motorcycle (albeit on different trains), and some went above and beyond to ensure our travel needs were met. 

Much of the hospitality I’ve seen here mirrors that of small southern towns in the states, and in some ways even exceeds them. I am constantly impressed by the warmth of this place, which lessens the heat of its tropical climate. 

Journey to the East

My partner in justice, Paul P, and I have been on the road for 4 days now, but I have only just recovered from that personal hell they call jet lag. So this is where our telling begins. (**Side note: avoid all detours through Russia en route to southeast Asia).

A few deets before we get to the motorcycling adventure--and no, this is not some prequel of two starry-eyed young Americans becoming revolutionaries in foreign lands (probably):

First of all, the whole title of this blog may seem obscure to everyone but my cousin Shea, who I'm sure remembers fondly that the best way to begin any voyage is by shattering the rear windshield on a 4-door sedan intended to transport you across the country.
The 86 will make sense to anyone whose ever worked in the service industry. No one really knows why this particular number is used to indicate that you are severely lacking something. In a restaurant this is a temporary annoyance; in our case, it led to a more memorable journey.

Main point: the more things go wrong, the more memorable the journey. You gotta just take everything in stride with a smile. Perhaps I will be eating these words later....but for now, they seem relevant.

So, we'll rewind to my first experience in Bangkok. It was a standard introduction to a new city, just killing time before my connection to Trang that evening...

10:09 am
I stare at the colorful, monopoly-esque currency that depicts the current King.  I must remind myself that whatever commentary I feel impelled to make about the monarchy should probably always be contained. (Come on Nicole, you can do this).

10:22 am
Then take the sky rail to some random part of this foreign city with which I am completely unfamiliar and hope people speak some English. This is where years of kicking ass at charades comes in handy.

                                                               Monk on an escalator

12:13 pm
When an attractive Chilean man asks me for directions on a street that I cannot pronounce, I boldly pretend that I have some clue until realizing that the guidebook I purchased is practically useless and doesn't even instruct one how to say basic things like "water" in the Thai language. Great. (*Lonely Planet-- I want my $17 back).

1:06 pm
Fumble through several failed conversations with cab drivers until I find one willing to give me a lift to the Grand Palace (it looked like a big deal on the tourist map I snagged at the airport). Whatever 400 Baht is worth sounds like too much, so I hastily venture away from this gold encrusted tourist trap (what did I really expect?) and head for the nearby market.

1:58 pm
This vendors hub offers mighty little vegetarian fare that isn't deep fried in animal fat, and there is no room in my already corpulent backpack to fit any statues of Buddha or imported jewelry, so I team up with a lovely young Italian girl to check out the "Reclining Buddha" nearby. Her guidebook must be far superior to mine, damn it...

2:33 pm
An extremely large, opulent statue of the golden deity rests casually on his side, staring smugly at all the barefooted, camera-bearing foreigners below. The soles of his massive feet are the most impressive feature: a mother of pearl mosaic containing hundreds of tiny carvings that depict idyllic natural scenes from a rural setting that immediately contrasts the surrounding concrete jungle. (What all of these tourists actually came to Thailand to see).

3:12 pm
A whizzing tuk tuk ride back to the sky train hurls me through the bowels of Bangkok. I am still unaccustomed to the style of driving that places drivers on the right side of the vehicle and vehicles in the left hand lane. Though I have been forewarned of the audacity of motorcyclists in the region, I'm still rather impressed with their death-defying maneuvers on this crowded motorway.

The quality of these roads is equal or better than what you'll find in most American cities, though I'm currently more concerned that either this tuk tuk driver is going to plow into a motorbike or I'm actually going to slide off the edge of this tiny seat on the next hairpin turn he makes. Busy people, golden Buddhas of every size, food carts with an array of spicy smells, and a filthy brown river all blur together in my peripheral vision as I cling to this 3-wheeled nausea mobile.

7:28 pm
After what feels like 48 hours of travel, I finally land in Trang and am greeted by Paul, Cece and Michael--along with the entire local adult soccer team of this southern city. (I am coincidentally wearing a Costa Rican soccer t-shirt that matches their colors exactly, making this really feel like some sort of alternate universe Asian homecoming, especially in my sleep-deprived state). The four of us and my Alpine Lowe backpack squeeze onto 2 motorbikes and scoot around the city until I finally arrive on a cozy cul-de-sac lined with sleepy cats and even lazier dogs.

8:34 pm
We have dinner at a delicious local restaurant, and I begin picking up key phrases from my lovely comrades. They are excited to teach me everything they know in Thai while I'm struggling to hold my eyes open. None of my college cohorts realize how well they've acclimated to the spice levels here until they witness my sweating pink face insist that I really love the food and try to claim that this is a reaction to the climate. It's actually not so dissimilar from the humid mess I left back in Houston, but my  ability to handle spicy food is challenged by the cuisine that is absurdly played down in the states.

10:03
We take a basic evening motorcycle tour of Trang then head back to the neighborhood to cuddle with some adopted kittens and pick up where we left off. A few games of Rummikub and a couple of iced whiskeys later, I settle into the realization that no matter how far we travel, I'll always feel home with this crew of wonderful humans and their stinky street pets.