exit does not exist

The airport in Tokyo was cool and breezy. We were still a seven hour flight away from Bangkok, and I found immense comfort in that. Everything was so new, and so scary, but that was the beauty of it. Tokyo's cleaning crews do it undercover and immaculately. Where there was glass, there were no fingerprints. The airport's staff was starched and white-toothed smiles. The procedure went from complicated to simple with a thirteen hour flight from the shit-hole that is Detroit to the crisp air of Tokyo. The man at the counter gave us our hotel vouchers and said "Go up the stairs, then go down the escalator." So that's what we did, and Sarah and I loaded the bus to the Radisson, where the breezes flew happily through the hallways. We ate for free: chicken cordon bleu, miso soup, clams with cuttle fish, seaweed salad. The hotel provided us with slippers which my western feet did not fit into. Then we slept. We woke up and looked out at the groomed trees in the garden, a trademark of Japan. I ducked beneath the shower head and felt ready, and almost relieved from jetlag.






































The ride from Tokyo to Bangkok was a hundred times more pleasant than the one we experienced earlier, with the two hour stay in the plane on the runway in Anchorage, Alaska. The snow taunted us outside as we sat patiently for the plane to refuel, de-ice, and the unstable medical emergencies to exit. All the while, the plane staff condescended to the passengers who were disoriented from the flight. But on Japan Airlines they know how to treat their passengers; they keep the booze flowing and give you a selection of films to watch on your personal television. I was content to be in the airplane on the way to Thailand. Landing was something different.

The descent into Bangkok was a lucid nightmare which I woke up from with cold sweats around my calves and seeping out of my palms. My mind immediately went to scenarios of what was going to go wrong. My bowels were going to be bloody and move loosely about as if my body had been overthrown by flesh-eating parasites. My finger nails would not be enough relief from the mosquito bites which I feared would cover my body head to toe. I didn't think I knew myself well enough to be in Thailand. Existentialism was going to ruin everything. When we hit the runway and began bouncing, my stomach was in the air and my mouth began to water. I refused to let myself vomit, and sat back counting so as to begin relaxing. Thailand was Tokyo dipped in the fryer for two and a half minutes.


Walking out of the airplane, I began to feel a bit more at ease. I was happy to be grounded and the smiling faces of the Thai air crew were a relief. The air smelt of grease and humid remnants of potato chips. We got our baggage and boarded a van, the apolstery stained, and the air conditioning restrained. As we began to drive, the motorbikes we were told about raced around us on all sides as our driver turned out, cutting in front of others, hoping not to be wrecked - the Thai way of driving. My mind went back home and to the fact that I wouldn't be seeing it in over four months. Was I really prepared for the filth that I passed on the street, a thick barrier of humidity separating me and the van from the toned dark construction workers and run down apartment buildings? I was scared again, so I put on my headphones and shuffled through my ipod for familiarity. I found it in Wilco and Phosphorescent.

Something that I realized on that ride was that while I see the filth of Bangkok and the areas which we passed on our three hour ride south to Cha-Am and my apartment, there is a tremendous amount of beauty in being displaced and being forced to find what makes a new area so beautiful, that seems to be so very scary and different. I always associate unkempt things with danger, but Thailand is not dangerous. The people here are some of the friendliest I have met, and they are all extremely accommodating. I found this out once I arrived to my apartment and found out how we are not taken advantage of for being ignorant Americans in a new country. The people who run the convenience store could charge us soo much more for the things that are so cheap here. A large bottle of water is only 13 baht (less than fifty cents), the internet is only 350 baht per month (about 11 dollars), they could charge at least double for both of those things. But that is just so "American" of me to think that they should take advantage of us just to make a buck.


After sleeping for about four hours, I went downstairs to the pool with Sarah, and we found the pool in front of the ocean. I have never been anywhere more beautiful than this. A group of Thai
women circle the pool swooshing flower pedals and leaves with brooms made of feathers, while one woman fills the surrounding pottery with water and the buds of flowers. That night we went out to an Irish Pub. Yes, an Irish Pub on my first real night in Thailand. Sarah and I went with our new friends, Jessica and Chris. They are two of the nicest people I have ever met, and I'm so grateful that I met them. I think that we have the same intentions in mind as far as why we are here and what we want to get out of our trip together.














new friends

I drank my first Guinness at an Irish Pub in Hua Hin, Thailand. We then moved along to the more local type places which were filled with snooty Europeans who gladly turned their noses up at a group of twelve American tourists, looking us up and down as if we were clueless, which we were. The burnt flesh was almost disturbing to me and the smirks of the foreigners visiting Thailand made me weary more about my safety around them than the local Thai vendors who constantly are recruiting new drunk customers at the bar to buy multi-note whistles, and they do. Sitting across from us was a Western man who was in his late 40's, balding and overweight. He bounced a young Thai girl on his knee, singing along to a Thai cover band. The girl was for hire and I can only imagine that she only looked happy because she was intoxicated. These men are everywhere. Some sit across from their clients, straight-faced, worn out, and unentertained. Others become intoxicated, and look jovial bouncing on the knees of westerners.

Yesterday we went to the palace of King Rama V. It was beautiful. We rode a cable car to get to the top of the mountain. Looking down on the city of Phetchaburi, it was blanketed with humid fog. And I saw a large image of the Buddha being constructed. The grid surrounded it, as if it were just another building. The view really helped me to realize where I was.


The food here is great. I actually enjoy waiting for my food. It reminds me that time flows here, and impatience is looked down upon. I cannot lose face with anyone; confrontation is not the way to get what you want here the way it is in the United States. You are served when your food is ready. Everything tastes so great when it is new. Let's hope that it lasts. I start classes tomorrow and while I love laying by the pool all day, I think that I'm ready to learn something. Photography tomorrow.














campus


I am in love with Thailand right now. It is said that the honeymooners stage is the first stage of culture shock. I am on a honeymoon, and my lover is foreign to me, mysterious, and full of smiles. I can only hope that these smiles are sincere. The cold sweats have gone and the hot sweats of high noon are here to stay, and probably only going to become heavier. The fear is overwhelming, but my psyche is good for now, and I'm ready to find out more about myself, this place that I have been displaced to, and the unfamiliar world of my accidental home back in St. Louis.

I will add more pictures to this post.
I miss you all, and I will see you soon.