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.
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.
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