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This trip is drawing to a close, the curtains tightly choking out the Thailand light as I return, headfirst, into reality.

Phuket and Krabi were incredible; Hua Hin may be one of our favorite places we’ve ever been. But this post isn’t about them. This one is about me.

I’ve always aged too quickly, racing through life as though the finish line is something anyone really wants to reach. I think, perhaps, morbidly, I busy myself to escape my own mortality. After all, the purpose of life is finding a purpose… right?

What Thailand has taught me is that you can travel, but your troubles travel with you. They are on your playlist, in your head, within your heart. Escape won’t fix broken, and travel may expand your horizons but it will never change the color of your sky.

Although it’s sure been a nice distraction.

You can outrun the grim reaper, but he will catch up eventually. Numb his influence with pills, pretend he isn’t there, act content with a salvation that may or may not be waiting. But we all, if we are lucky, grow old.

We all long for the earlier days of youth, whatever that is for each of us, when we were buoyant and naive and resilient. And this, folks, is how I arrived at my mid-life crisis at 28. I’ve always done things early.

I return to the poem I wrote at 19, ever aware of the problems I tote with me in my rush to grow up. I am nearly a decade older but the words are as true now as then. And as I wave goodbye to continent #4, the 15th bucket list item, and the country I’ve fallen in love with, allow me to wax poetic just once more. Then I promise I’ll get back to the usual tenor.

“I’m racing past while they remain still
Such is the curse of aging at will.
Clinging to branches, I’m soaring with leaves
Faster I go as they float in the breeze.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to me
I give the right sermon but forget what it means.
Wealth’s no obsession, and love I have found
But cursed is the life that forever gains ground.”

Beautiful.

Perhaps this blog title is funny only to me; it’s a play on a Broadway song. Whatever! Also – pics to come.

It’s probably high time we took a solid step back to discuss the incredible and diverse cuisine of Thailand. You’ve all (e.g. no one has) been reading of the various adventures tooling around the country, but I have yet to really divulge the unique experience that the culinary tour has been.

It began the night we arrived; midnight pad Thai from a stand near the hotel in Bangkok. The best we have ever eaten; capped off with a questionable shrimp that we will let slide. In plastic chairs, surrounded by stray dogs, served by a woman who spoke no English and made the dish from a wok and a flame steps away from us, it was heavenly. And only $3 for two dishes, including a Coke and a beer.

Welcome to Thailand.

The tour continued near a pier the next morning; handmade roti filled with egg and banana – again, cooked to order, from a street vendor. The hygiene around here is debatable at best – limited hand washing, rinsed dishes, meat sitting out – but the freshness and love in the food is second to none.

For lunch, we dined in Chinatown: fresh bubble tea for $1, bird’s nest soup (kind of a horrible thing, I was later aware, but nonetheless tasty), squid with chili sauce, and crab vermicelli. The seafood here, when prepared fresh, is out of this world. Total price for the meals: $7.

In the evening, we went to a spot recommended by a cab driver and were horrified to discover… Other white people. We had been sent where tourists go to die. Although the curry was decent and the beer was cold, it wasn’t the best we’d eaten, and we hated feeling like Class B tourists. So we went local for a drink.

An outdoor night spot made us wish we had ordered whatever all the locals were grilling up themselves at the tables. Thai Hedwig crooned us over Chang beers.

We had only begun to discover the rich flavors of Indian, Middle eastern, Chinese, and Russian influences that clearly pepper Thailand. Crab curries galore, fresh seafood, luscious fruits and vegetables, indulgent noodle dishes, Vietnamese style soups, custard pastries, and dim sum-style buns.

Throughout the road trip from Bangkok to Phuket, we dined on shredded pork with onions and cilantro (Brandon ate mine) prepared fresh outside a gas station, pork and custard buns, grilled sausage, grilled bananas, and milk tea. Nothing was more than $2, and everything was cooked to order.

The food in Phuket is nothing to sniff at, either: two glorious crab curries, one red (at the Renaissance) and one yellow (at Raya, a local recommended place) made a very happy girl. Coupled with the stunning shrimp, watermelon, and feta salad I had at the hotel, it was clear that freshness isn’t just a delicacy here – it’s a way of life for Thais.

Having only had americanized Thai food previously, it was easy to make the assumption that it could be fairly one note – and generally quite spicy. Although we have had our fair share of spice here, I am awed by the diversity in the flavors and the true harmony of cultures represented in the cuisine. I could eat this food forever. Time to move?

This vacation was exactly what I needed to get my head a little straighter. Today, Brandon and I awoke naturally at dawn, strolled down to the stunning infinity pool overlooking Bangkok and the river, and ate at an incredible buffet full of all kinds of food (Thai, Indian, American, and everything in between). Despite myself, I’ve been smugly smiling at the thought of my xenophobe friend, amused at how much beauty he must be missing.

After a relaxing morning, we headed out to pick up the rental car at the airport, and Brandon masterfully handled the shift to left-side driving. (Oh, yeah – I forgot to look that up before we came here.) We stopped at a few points on the road to Hua Hin, our stop in between Bangkok and Phuket, and made some pretty rad decisions (if I say so myself).

First up was a quick lunch at a roadside stand (we’ll make steel of our stomachs yet), then a stroll through SWISS SHEEP FARM. Yes, that’s right. Whatever you’re picturing, intensify it. It was a moderately functioning sheep farm amusement park, complete with life-sized statues of Swiss people and rednecks, Christmas trees (because, as Brandon later said, Thais’ perception of Christianity must be that they “celebrate Christmas all year, or at least at some point, and they like decorating trees”), Spiderman, robots, and a literal room full of alpacas. Real alpacas. That basically molest you upon entry.

But who am I to do this place real literary justice, when they’ve done it for themselves? Just look at their website’s description:

The complex nature. Come in contact with the atmosphere of a farm in a valley surrounded by the love that surrounds you with warmth, style European country. Farms that will take you time to dream again.
 
Join today to add power to your fatigue. Add fresh restore your love for us.

Oh, and the icing on the cake? Brandon and I were apparently part of the attraction. As the token random white people, we were photographed… several times.

We hit the road again and, after some consternation, found an elephant sanctuary that hosted rides and experiences with the elephants. Although a nearby safari offered similar services plus experiences with real, live tigers and lions, we heard through the grapevine–and TripAdvisor–that the treatment of the animals there is not humane, and the felines are likely drugged. As much as Brandon would have loved to have a picture of him with a tiger for his Tinder profile (this is a real trend), we passed in favor of the humane place. It was kind of an out-of-body sort of experience – high above the ground, riding an elephant. A freaking elephant! We fed it bananas and it played a harmonica for us. What. The. Heck. It was amazing and surreal.

We ended up staying at the Intercontinental in Hua Hin – a stunningly gorgeous resort with, yes, another infinity pool, this time overlooking a gorgeous beach. As I watched the fluffy pink clouds fade into the night sky tonight while floating in the most breathtaking pool I’ve ever seen, I realized how truly lucky we both are. We’re in Thailand, healthy and blessed, with an expansive love and a deep happiness together. And I’m in the fourth infinity pool in less than a month (San Antonio, St. Thomas, Bangkok, Hua Hin). What the hell do I have to be sad about? Life is good.

There’s nothing like a trip halfway around the world to remind you how truly fortunate you are.

These last few days have been a whirlwind of jet lag-induced euphoria, and although they’ve not forced me to forget all my troubles, they’ve helped put them into perspective.

The first few days are difficult to categorize because, somewhere over the Pacific, we lost 13 hours. It’s currently 6am on Sunday here, and 7pm on Saturday in Georgia. My mind is still having trouble wrapping around the concept of fluid time; it feels very Stephen Hawking at the moment.

The flight to LAX was 5 hours; an overnight stop and an obligatory (re: I forced Brandon) stop by one of our properties, and we were back on our way to Seoul on another 13 hour flight. Follow that up with a 6 hour flight into Bangkok and we were feeling a little rough. However, the seemingly endless flights somehow put us on Bangkok time – we got in at midnight on Thursday and immediately slept through the night.

Bangkok is a flurry of beautiful activity, a breathtaking hybrid of deep spirituality and welcoming tolerance. I’ve never been part of a culture in which both religion and sex seem to be so pervasive in the everyday, treated as important elements of the human experience. Even the temples here include statues depicting sexual acts along with every other facet of human nature: parenthood, worship, joy, etc. I actually really vibe with that portrayal of humanity; how refreshing to see a religion that doesn’t pin shame on something so inherently natural. It was a gentle reminder of Christianity’s pervasive stigmas that have seeped into Western culture.

Speaking of stigmas, the night before I left for Bangkok, I mentioned to an acquaintance what my plans were for travel. Admittedly in no state to be having a coherent conversation, the man launched into a torrent of some of the most xenophobic vitriol I’ve ever heard. I was shocked. I didn’t even realize people – beyond, perhaps, some rednecks in the boonies somewhere – still possessed a blind hatred toward any culture other than their own. This was an educated and successful person essentially telling me that any idiot who chose to travel outside of America wasn’t just stupid, but unpatriotic, rendered me literally speechless. I guess I’ve been working for a client so incredibly welcoming of literally everyone for so long that it’s easy to forget that tolerance, for some, is a learned behavior.

In any case, this is not the norm in Thailand. Ever the balance of Madonna and whore, this country seems to house some of the world’s friendliest people; however, our American accents and wide-eyed naivette make is targets for conning as well. There seems to be this understood cultural message that everyone likes Americans, but we also must be milked for every Baht we have. The con game is such standard practice that we learned quickly to stop listening to anyone’s advice – everyone seems to have a connection somewhere in the city to a commission structure, to a Tuk Tuk driver who will take you wherever he’ll make the most money, to a restaurant you didn’t ask to go but “is the place you must try.” It’s like they are leveraging the clear language barrier to feign misunderstanding and drive up the price.

But that’s the seedy part of the practice. Oddly enough, there’s something I find highly endearing about the approach they take here; this obvious manipulation of Americans because they either think we are stupid or easily led (or both). We were accosted, for example, by a man outside a school, who claimed he was a retired teacher and simply loved American people. He offered to pay for our cabs, take us to dinner, introduce us to his friends. He spoke broken but communicable English and Brandon was highly suspicious of his motivations. But he was hilarious.

“You talk, I like you. I like Americans. You talk even though you are a girl. Girls here don’t talk. Why does your husband not talk? I don’t know if I like him. He is slow.”

Sure, he took us to a tailor to get custom made clothes, against which he likely made a tidy profit. Sure, he thought he conned us dumb Americans into spending money we didn’t anticipate. But I was just as happy because custom clothes were a “must” on my list for the trip – so the con man played right into my own game as well. Thanks for showing us where to find a good tailor, and the free cab ride there.

Sexism also seems to be a thing here, but again, in kind of an oddly endearing way. The theme of this country seems to be that it lives in shades of grey; where I live in this black and white universe where things are decidedly right and wrong, Thailand lives somewhere in the middle.

Women are treated with respect, bowed to. Everyone is extremely polite and gracious. But at the same time, there are rules at the temples (we visited Wat Pho and Wat Arun; stunning and breathtaking – thanks to Aisling for the recommendation) in which women must be covered. We also must never touch a monk, even brush his robe accidentally, lest he need to perform a long cleansing ritual afterward. Brandon enjoyed reading this.

“It’s okay, hon. It’s just that you’re disgusting. Don’t take it personally. You’re just a revolting, disgusting girl.”

I am not welcome to pay, or to lead. I get the side eye when I hand over a credit card with Brandon right beside me. This is so far against my nature I’d normally find it insulting, but for some reason, I don’t here. It’s another shade of grey.

Similarly, the embracing of blurred gender lines is completely refreshing. Wandering, we went to an outdoor restaurant with what I like to call the Thai Hedwig, complete with her own Yitzhak, performing on a makeshift stage. She was wearing a leopard print dress and ’90s Blossom-style hat, playing a broom (yes, you read that right). I couldn’t understand what she was saying but she was clearly fucking with the crowd. I got called out for taking pictures. She was fabulous, but looking around at all the locals’ reactions… she was merely status quo. In fact, behind me, a young man was cozied up to his male partner, showing his friend across the table pictures of his experience dressing as a LadyBoy as though he was sharing details from his last trip to the grocery store. There is nothing unusual or taboo about people being who they are here, and it’s startling. A culture so deeply rooted in religion is also deeply connected to its own humanity. Hey, come to think of it – I’m kind of digging Buddhism.

This blog post is getting long, but it wouldn’t be complete without a mention of the food. It’s been a bit of a mixed bag – there are most DEFINITELY no health codes around here; meat sitting out in the hot sun, loosely-rinsed utensils, flies, dogs roaming around. However, I’ve never been one to turn down a good piece of cheese that fell on the floor, so I’ve gotten past it and haven’t managed to get sick yet. And what we’ve had, ultimately, has been delicious. And cheap – $2.50-$5.00 for a meal; the most we’ve paid yet is $15.00 for dinner for the two of us, including beer. So again… welcome to the grey area.

Today, we leave Bangkok and hit the road toward Phuket. Can’t wait to try more of Aisling’s recommendations and hopefully also see some monkeys and elephants. We are truly a lucky pair of people, and we both needed this time away. There’s nothing like seeing the world through someone else’s eyes to make you realize how small you truly are in this universe. And that, Mr. Xenophobe, is why I love to travel.

Sometimes things happen without effort or intention; for better or worse. And sometimes those things are on your bucket list. Go figure.

Today I swam with a sting ray. And I don’t think I ever want to swim with the sharks.

So there you go.

5

Life is crazy, work can be insane, but I’m trying to remind myself to let it go. Everyone I respect has been telling me lately that I can’t control everything; I can’t change the world by myself and if I try, I’m going to drive myself nuts. Maybe I already have.

My mentor, Deborah, kindly reminded me of how far I’ve come already, so to take it easy and slow down. Just be.

My “work big brother” Dave was less polite but equally right when he told me to stop worrying about shit that wasn’t mine to fix anyway.

Tough love is effective.

I’m in San Antonio on a shoot now, trying to bask in the perfect metaphor that’s been presented to me. We are here to shoot the sunset and it Won’t. Stop. Raining.

Something is out there controlling the universe… or they’re not. But regardless, it can’t and won’t be me. So I’m just going to breathe and let it go.

I’m stuck in a rut.

I approach my 28^th birthday, halfway through this life improvement initiative, and I am drowning in bad television, wine, and utter exhaustion.

All my yoga and running fell by the wayside once I ran my first 15k. My achievement quickly became my excuse. As a result, I’m considering signing up for a half marathon to re-motivate myself to get back in the game.

We’re going to Thailand, but incidentally, this puts us behind our savings game. All my financial goals for myself have gone in the way of travel… which, I guess, is what happens when you create a list of conflicting priorities for yourself.

I’m having so much trouble staying positive and inspired. I need a dramatic life change, and although I’m not particularly a pray-er, I’m doing some serious soul-searching to determine what’s really missing. I’m drained emotionally, physically, and spiritually. All the good in my life is something only others are pointing out instead of me seeing it for myself.

Is it that life needs to be about establishing some arduous list of goals to reach for? Or is it that having the list is reminding me how I’m constantly failing at something? To try and achieve a full reformation as a human in 4 years, in retrospect, seems so naïve. But what’s life worth if you can’t even honor a commitment to yourself?