June 25th 2025
In Japan it felt like there was a rhythm present. Purposeful movement with predictability, like a yoga sequence. A sun salutation. Thailand, thus far, by contrast feels like a seizure. Bangkok, grand mal. Chaotic. Loud. Energetic. Every bit as lovely with its own personality, like your distant cousin, Gus; the gifted and eccentric child with severe ADHD. We are on our 4th day in Bangkok and have just figured out the rules for crossing the street; there are none. You either wait for a gap in the traffic and lose a half hour doing so, perhaps time for a sun salutation, or you step out and make your own gap. Confidence helps, but it can be as elusive here as a cool breeze. The humidity is as heavy as a wool blanket. A wet one. It’s been raining frequently and when it does you don’t get any wetter, it’s just a momentary respite from the heat. 7/11’s abound. Almost every street has one. They put the emphasis in convenience store. Each one seems to have a slightly different arrangement, but with one essential commonality; air conditioning. The automatic door slides open and a cascade of refrigerated air pours out like ice cubes from a discarded Big Gulp. We conveniently act like we are looking for something that we can’t find just so we can lower our core temps, and slow the fluid loss from perspiration. When the shivering starts that is our cue to exit.
The people are kind, gentle, modest and generous, yet each seems to carry a license for self expression. Everyone seems to want to help, though some just want to help you part with your money. Tuk Tuk drivers are among the most savvy salesmen, vying for your Baht at every turn. But kind and gregarious and oh so skilled at modifying routes and traffic laws to get you where you want to be efficiently, if you must navigate the consummate rush hour traffic.
We love to walk, especially off the beaten path. The back alleys in particular. Often, we feel like we are crossing through living rooms, or kitchens, as a family’s contents often spill out from behind their corrugated tin walls onto the “public” thoroughfares. No one gives us strange or intimidating looks, more like “baan rao gor meuan baan khun” or “mi casa es su casa.” We get the sense that if we paused, they would offer the food that they have. Food is ubiquitous and seems to offer a contrast to the abject poverty and suggests that you could be homeless but properly nourished. Yes, I know, that is likely just my own rationalized, self-prescribed and self-applied anesthetic to avoid feeling the pain of the impoverished as I bounce freely from meal to meal. My homelessness is my choice and my gift to myself, and I am infinitely grateful that my needs are met.
And the food is phenomenal with a capital F. Inexpensive and indescribably flavorful. The Prik Kee Nu (Thai Chile) a staple of the Thai diet. They sneak them into everything. And when your tongue first finds one hiding under a cool leaf of butter lettuce and you begin to sweat like you’re outside a 7/11 looking in, you look for Buddha to ask what you’ve done to create such suffering. Then your prayers are answered with enlightenment as the flavor finds its way through the pain, your taste buds accommodate, and you realize that the Thai Chile is The Way.
And Buddha too, is everywhere. Temples as frequent as Starbucks, with their ornate and intricate design, washed in bright warm colors, filled with warmth and modesty. You have to be covered to enter, your shoulders and knees anyway. My $3 pair of elephant pants lasted barely long enough for me to stoop through the first doorway before the crotch opened like the gates of heaven itself. A brief stop in Nirvana. All Apologies that likely Smells Like Teen Spirit, but the moderate embarrassment was rapidly displaced by the refreshing cool air. Design flaw, or feature? It felt spiritual, so I put my alms on the latter and avoided eye contact with Buddha! Though I suspect his disciples, the monks are rockin the same air freshening feature under their saffron Kasayas. Please say a silent prayer for me at home that I’m not arrested by the Tourist Police. And if not, we will let a cool breeze carry us from the concrete jungle to the mountainous jungles around Chiang Mai.
Every day is a blessing. Every step we take we are aware, to some extent, of the risks and the potential danger that lurks in every corner of the world. We are gallivanting, but with a modicum of intent; to shed the robe of judge and judgment, and to just observe. To appreciate the differences for the flavors they add to our lives, like a Thai Chile
