October 18, 2013
Bangkok
The plane landed last night at midnight- almost 2 years exactly to the day I left for Australia.
I took a taxi to Rambutree road and recalled my vocabulary of Thai language with the driver on the way. Unfortunately it was too late to go to P'Toom's- the humble 5 foot king of Couchsurfing. Plus I had forgotten his address and was too tired to risk tracking it down. My dry mouth began to salivate in disappointment knowing that I wouldn't get to taste the spicy breakfast I had been longing for at the kitchen down the street from his house. But Rambutree road was a sure thing and all I wanted to do was take my backpack off and stand under an ice cold shower. It took almost an hour to get there. The driver told me it had been raining all day in Bangkok and the roads were nearly flooded. I didn't mind. The later and less cluttered Rambutree was when I arrived, the better. It was low season for tourists- that was good too. When I showed up the majority of the guest houses were closed but I kept walking, looking for the small green sign that read "My Guest House". It had one room available for 180 baht- approximately $7.00. I was back. Surrounded by it all again; the sights, the smells, the sounds, the food, the cold-faced warmness, the warm-faced coldness, the heat, the culture. My second home.
Now, after a day of drinking and playing ukulele on the street with a Swedish dude named Osmo, then a sleepy seven hour night bus ride south to Chumphon, I find myself back in my old bedroom at my adopted family's house. It's gotta be almost 5 in the morning but I don't wanna sleep. Feels like I'm eight years old and it's Christmas.
Bangkok
The plane landed last night at midnight- almost 2 years exactly to the day I left for Australia.
I took a taxi to Rambutree road and recalled my vocabulary of Thai language with the driver on the way. Unfortunately it was too late to go to P'Toom's- the humble 5 foot king of Couchsurfing. Plus I had forgotten his address and was too tired to risk tracking it down. My dry mouth began to salivate in disappointment knowing that I wouldn't get to taste the spicy breakfast I had been longing for at the kitchen down the street from his house. But Rambutree road was a sure thing and all I wanted to do was take my backpack off and stand under an ice cold shower. It took almost an hour to get there. The driver told me it had been raining all day in Bangkok and the roads were nearly flooded. I didn't mind. The later and less cluttered Rambutree was when I arrived, the better. It was low season for tourists- that was good too. When I showed up the majority of the guest houses were closed but I kept walking, looking for the small green sign that read "My Guest House". It had one room available for 180 baht- approximately $7.00. I was back. Surrounded by it all again; the sights, the smells, the sounds, the food, the cold-faced warmness, the warm-faced coldness, the heat, the culture. My second home.
Now, after a day of drinking and playing ukulele on the street with a Swedish dude named Osmo, then a sleepy seven hour night bus ride south to Chumphon, I find myself back in my old bedroom at my adopted family's house. It's gotta be almost 5 in the morning but I don't wanna sleep. Feels like I'm eight years old and it's Christmas.
