November in Thailand

I spent my first 20 Novembers in Seattle. I’ve had six in San Francisco and two in New York. November 2002 I was in Thailand. It’s my first time traveling alone and during a season typically full of family and friends I look forward to meeting strangers and finding a little more of myself. My month long adventure begins in Bangkok, a city distinguished by it’s ornate temples and scathing sex scene. I take Lonely Planets advice and I visit the reclining Buddha and the floating markets, both beautiful as anticipated. With the obligatory sight seeing out of the way I decide to simply wander the streets for the rest of my time there. This is the way I travel best, aimlessly touring the city and keeping an active eye on the daily life. The steaming sidewalks of Bangkok cook the urban grim and an overwhelming fishy tang marinates my hair. I now curse the Lonely Planet guide that advised me to leave all perfumes at home. It’s a chaotic city, one of skeptical infrastructure. The maps don't match the street signs, switching back from Thai to Sanskrit in no apparent order and the worrisome traffic scene has me believing I’m in a real life Frogger game. As I gallivant around the city I literally make my way in front of, just barely behind, and alongside a barrage of vehicles. As curious as Bangkok appears it’s apparent that those who call it home find comfort in the madness, and that comforts me. It took Murray Head “One Night in Bangkok”, it takes me seven and unlike the popular band from the 80’s, I will make it a priority that Bangkok not be a one hit wonder.

From Bangkok I head north to a perfect little place called Pai. About four hours west of Chiang Mai and accessible via a one-lane road that resembles a gumball machine. The giant kind of gumball machine, the one you see at pizza parlors that circle around and around and after you're sufficiently dizzy you finally get your reward, a yellow piece when you wanted a red. Thankfully Pai was just what I wanted and I spent the next two weeks in my little green heaven. In Pai, everyday is Sunday. Anything that requires leaving your hammock becomes a chore. Unless, of coarse, it's to cruise around on your motorbike. (Note-to-self, invest in a Vespa.)