It was one of those light, flirtatious, floating days.
Waking up in Bangkok, day three. I emerged from our windowless small hotel room running shoes in hand, giddy with a new pair of socks I inherited from my 25 B/kilo laundry day. Two new matching pairs fo free. The hot sun on my skin pushed away the residual sleepy fog. The moment it hit my skin began to glisten with the constant sweat that is Bangkok. The beads of sweat tickled as they rolled down my back, cooling me in the city’s heat. I ran through the city streets, dodging reckless drivers and drinking in smiles from the inviting vendors and tuk tuk drivers. I slipped in between the fences of the park surrounded by intersections and intricate temples and started making laps. A police officer, reclined in a metal chair by the park entrance waved and smiled at me each time I passed, offering me water and another sweet taste of pleasant interactions with these heart-y people. Crazy blonde girl. Yes. This is a good day. Thank you Thailand for reminding me how beautiful this life can be.
The country’s charms pull me away from dark tired places, rejuvinating, reinvigorating, offering me something good, light, new. I am new here. I am nameless. No one here knows where I come from, what I have done, or what I should be doing. Feeling lost I am in the process of finding. Clean slate, discovering, adventuring, feeling light.
Back to my room, shower (Number one of three for the wet heat), off to the Grand Palace to see the famous emerald Buddha. I visited the shake lady- always go with the food ladies, superior to the food cart men – and bought a 30 Baht mango lime shake along the way. I lined up at the temple and feigned off offers for tours in English. I pushed my way through crowds of Chinese tourists to see what I could see of the pinnacle of Royal Thai luxury. Wat Phra Kaew is the former Royal Palace built at the King’s demand in the 1780s. It is laden with jewel-encrusted temples and statues of mythical creatures placed to protect the king. School children sat under shaded huts, singing traditional Buddhist lyrics, their words echoing through the crowded structures.
I was studying a gold wall when two Chinese women approached me and held out their camera. “Oh sure, I can take your picture,” I responded. They shook their head and one woman pulled me by her side while the other took a picture of me and the stranger. I giggled. The two switched places and I smiled for round two. Another group of Chinese people came over and seized the opportunity for pictures with the American. It felt silly, but I smiled at the difference. All the differences and the commonality between me and those that surround me in this foreign land. The day was still light, I giggled some more.
Before entering into the temple that houses the emerald Buddha I removed my shoes placing them among the piles of knock-offs of expensive brands. My knock-off Toms fit right in. A fake child, in a fake poor country, got a fake pair of shoes for my real purchase. Thailand is what it is, and it isn’t what it isn’t. The Buddha sat on a high pedestal, in his summer robes, and throngs of tourists kneeled below him. I too sat on my knees and bent, touching my head three times to the marble ground like those around me. It was cool in the temple.
It was light. I was enveloped by the display of reverence from people all over the world around me, whether Buddhist or not. Enveloped by the obvious and yet forgotten truth that we are all so much the same. Enveloped by the likelihood that all cultures and people – throughout history and in our time- embrace that there is something more than our immediate existence, to kneel before something, to be reverent, to pause, to acknowledge something bigger – whatever that might be and for whatever reason we might do it. The day was still light.
I rushed back to my hotel where Marianna awaited. Time to pack up and get moving to the next adventure. Our Spanish friends, Rual and Julian, came to see us off. We giggled in the lobby, joking and teasing their English, using our Spanish, and asking after plans for the future. Dizzy with the truth of our current existence- we have no plans except now. Sukothai for many days and then perhaps the next place. When to the next place? Well, when we go. When will we see you again? Next time. Definitely next time. The day was still light.
We jumped in a meter taxi, running late, as usual. “I have a feeling we will just miss it, or we will make it,” said Marianna. We giggled. Our driver, Preecha, spoke wonderful English. We jumped on the opportunity to ask him questions about our foreign country. We had been dying to ask a Thai person. How fortunate.
“Where are all the fake products made?” we enquired.
“Produced in China, sold here. The government cracked down on the producers for awhile, but they are sold everywhere. Don’t buy. They don’t work,” he responded.
“Why are there so many twinkiling lights on the streets right now?”
“The king and queen from Malaysia are visiting. It was our Queen’s birthday, so they just left the lights up,” Preecha patiently explained.
“Do you think we will make our train? It leaves in 20 minutes,” we asked.
“Maybe, I will try. Depends on traffic.”
He explained to us that some men wear one long fingernail because it is in style. The long boats have colorful ties on the bow for decoration and because that is what the King did with his boat. The people have a good king who has done more than 7,000 things for the people and has the longest reign of any monarch in history. The king was born in the United States. Ahh, so many answers, many of which we guessed, but accepted we might never really know. Now we know. Or we know what Preecha told us.
Preecha rushed us out of the taxi, pointed us to the ticket counter, and handed us his card if we need him again in Bangkok. We rushed to the counter, two tickets, tourist price, and landed at platform number ten. “Hurry, hurry” said the train people, they were serious this time. We hopped on and proceeded to our car. The train started moving. Giggling with our luck, giddy with a new experience. It must be our new Buddha pendant necklaces. I swear we have been getting more smiles. The day is still light.
So happy to not be on a miserable bus for transportation we danced and laughed, drinking in the air from the open windows and comfy seats. The train is like Thailand’s Polar Express. Instead of hot chocolate there is a variety of meats on a stick, mangos, nuts, and green foreign stringy substances. Instead of rosy-cheeked train attendants there are smiling laughing venders yelling out the names of their goods in harsh loud tones, walking up and down the train aisles. Instead of Santa Clause there is a conductor wearing what looks like a military uniform who takes our ticket and finds a wooden plank to force our sealed, stuborn window open. A man with a small beige hat stops at our seats when Marianna buys a water, he laughs, we laugh, he laughs louder, we laugh louder. No words, just laughter, smiles for no reason in particular. He feels the light too.
Hungry, I walk down to the food car. Five Thai men surround me. They know ten english words with their heads combined and I eventually and successfully order chicken stir fry in chili sauce. A woman disappears to another car and emerges 10 minutes later with a hot plate of vegetables, chicken, and rice. Arroy-ma. Delicious. They laugh at my broken, messy attempts at Thai.
Now on to Sukothai to learn about the old capital for this beautiful country. The day is light, we have nowhere to be and everywhere to go. No one knows our names. Only our smiles and our Buddha necklaces we bought on the street. The wind is on my face as we ride through the countryside. The day is flirtatious, the day is light. Onward. I can finally breathe again.
-Katy
girlsguidetotheglobe 