36 hours of travel time ominously stared me down before my Asian adventure. “You sure you want to do this?” it mocked me. “It’s going to be really hard.”
“Bring it on,” I bluffed. Inside I was terrified of what lied ahead. Of voluntarily marching into the unknown from the known. From what I thought was stable ground, thrown into choppy waters. The key to bluffing: straight face and confidence. Sure, I know exactly what I’m doing. This is definitely right.
Step 1: Leave the US. I walked up to Malaysia Air greeted by formal attendants in matching uniforms reminiscent of the 1950s. “You can’t get on the airplane, you don’t have a return flight,” the desk attendant smiled at me. “Let me get my manager.”
The manager rushed me to his desk somewhere in LAX to jump on his laptop and buy a ticket leaving Thailand. Bangkok to Ho Chi Min Vietnam on September 11th? 90 dollars? Did it. I rushed to check my backpack and got on my plane, bluffing all the way, saying goodbye to comfort and pushing myself to push my boundaries.
I was not consciously aware of what I was looking for, but I surely was driven by a feeling that I needed this risky adventure. Needed to be reminded that life is more than text books, law school, job placements, weekend plans, iphones, Facebook statuses, and happy hours. I needed to find me again. I just had to bluff in order to get there.
Step 2: Survive the journey. On the plane, middle seat, I sat next to a couple from Nepal. They spoke no English but the woman to my right made it clear her foot was hurting her. She squished her face, squinting her eyes and wiggling her nose, and pointed to her barefoot which she placed on my calf. I shrugged my shoulders. Time to get close
Step 3: Just get there already. Disoriented and groggy I floated from LAX to Singapore, Singapore to Malaysia, Malaysia to Bangkok. When I arrived I found the baggage terminal to retrieve my backpack. Out it came with the top portion unzipped. Oh God. All the swimsuits, socks, and other unmentionables I owned in this new world were stored in there. I swung my backpack to my shoulder and melted on the cold tile ground. I hung my head, exhausted and forlorn. I just wanted a shower and clean underwear. Welcome to Bangkok
Step 4: It could always be worse. I looked up. On the conveyer belt was a pair of my underwear! I turned my head to the left and saw a trail of underwear, one bra, a couple of swimsuits and one lonely pair of socks. Embarrassed, but relieved, I retrieved my exposed undergarments one by one, placing them in my backpack and making a mental note to carry one full change of clothes with me on the next flight. I waved sheepishly at my fellow travelers, yep this is my underwear, that pair was too. When it was apparent that no more of my private belongings were coming up the shoot, I briskly got away. A bit lighter, but finally here.
-Katy
Exploring Wat Pho in Bangkok
girlsguidetotheglobe 