One Night in Bangkok …

Airports are nerve wracking. You head towards them bearing the stress of being late. Inevitably, you are then too early and have the smaller stress of boredom looming. There are constant announcements and if you are in a massive Asian airport – like Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi – then you get each announcement in Thai. Followed by English. Followed by Mandarin Chinese and just for good measure, Japanese. ‘Smoking is not allowed in the terminal,’ becomes a carousel of noise. Once it’s been completed, it’s time to begin again.

I landed in Bangkok’s “noise carousel” yesterday around 1pm from Cambodia and hurried quickly through immigration, smiling gratefully as the passport stamp slammed down on a page, allowing me to leave during my five-hour layover. My flight to Burma was set to depart at 7:20pm that night. Bangkok is paradise for shopping and eating and I intended to do both … even if I had to shovel Pad Thai into my face from a Styrofoam container while simultaneously digging through scarves in a street market.

You see, I was in need of food/retail therapy. I was wearing sunglasses because I’d been crying most of the morning. I left a group of children and several new friends I had come love back in Sihanoukville. In my bag was a note from my favorite kid at the school, which read: “Don’t go. I love you. I want you not to go. I wish you were my mom.” She’d hidden it in my bag. A little paper landmine. I unfolded unaware and was emotionally annihilated.

I came to Sihanoukville to volunteer, and I knew leaving would be hard. But I wasn’t prepared for the mix of emotions, and for making such close friends too. There was a feeling of not having done enough. There were people I knew I might never see again. And the realization that money isn’t necessarily the solution to poverty. Money won’t fix all problems. Problems like the ones that faced by that kid I grew closest to. Her parents are dead, and I can’t adopt her. Even if I could, I don’t know how to be a mom to a 12-year-old Cambodian.

I left Cambodia weighted down by the fact that life isn’t some Hallmark movie. It doesn’t end with everyone getting saved. Clean, showered, educated and happy might not happen. The people I left behind have etched themselves into my mind the same as they are woven into the tapestry of this weird little beach town. When they grabbed my hand for a moment, and their fingers slid against my own, I wanted to grip. To hold on. To youth. To dreams that might not come true for them … or for me.

But eventually, when you travel, you have to let go. It’s not your country. Every traveler has to go to Burma sometime … wherever that Burma happens to be.

So at 7pm, I was back in the BKK airport. Full of street noodles. Full of sadness. I stood in the noise carousel, taking deep breaths, considering that I looked like a terrorist in sunglasses, eyes red behind them. I stepped up to the counter and heard a sentence MUCH worse than “you are too late for the flight.”

I heard “Visa please.”

“Um … I was told I got my Burmese visa on arrival in Yangon?”

“Yes, on arrival in Yangon if you fly directly from Cambodia. But you have been out of the airport in Thailand. Now you need a visa. Go to the Myanmar Embassy tomorrow. Please step aside.”

In my life, I’ve been literally stuck in Bangkok three separate times. The first time, I was abandoned by this total shithead guy I was traveling with. After an argument on the street at midnight, he decided to go back to our hotel, pack up his stuff, check out and leave with our guide books and bus tickets … without telling me. I was 23 and totally alone … in Asia … for the first time in my life. Did I mention it was 1 am?

The second time, a monsoon cancelled my flight. A few hours later, while trying to sort a fresh ticket home, I got an email from my best friend Taylor.

“Happy birthday, Sweet Pea. Sorry about your flight cancellation. We will celebrate when you get home.”

Three hours later, half way across the world, Taylor missed a gear while driving his motorcycle. He hit an SUV and died on impact.

I was 27. It was my birthday. I found myself again, totally alone, standing on a street trying to make sense of a tragedy I had to find out about via Facebook.

So this time, when I found myself stuck for the third time in Bangkok, I actually started laughing. The universe has a way of providing for each of us, whether we realize how badly we need it in that moment or not. I walked away from the ticket counter. I rode back into the belly of a city I love most in the world, to a place where I’ve been comforted in other moments of great sadness. It’s a city where I’ve always been ok alone. A place where there seems to always be something larger looking out for me.

I ate the Mackerel Maing Kam and the Spicy Winged Beans with pork and prawn at Hemlock – which remains my favorite restaurant in the world – and slept a solid 10 hours. I woke up and went to the Myanmar visa office, sorted my shit and booked a flight out to Burma tonight.

Here’s the moral of the story: When you think life is trying to screw you over, sometimes she’s really just trying to tell you that you need 24 hours somewhere safe and warm to process loss. I wasn’t ready for Burma yesterday. I needed one night in Bangkok.

To all those wonderful people I left in Sihanoukville yesterday morning – Autumn, Ellie, Jade, Beate, Marry and Leah. Chaly, Tracy, Chen and Ollie. And especially you adorable, bright, tough and funny kids at Let Us Create – thank you for an amazing few weeks. You all are in my thoughts and my hopes that we can meet up again someday.

And … because I want this to remain a travel blog and not simply a place for me to wax poetic about missed connections and lost loves ….

My Top Five Suggestions For One Night in Bangkok

EAT … at Hemlock. Tiny, with white walls and small trees sprouting from a pebbled path in the floor, this is a habitual enclave of artists, writers and farang in-the-know. Order the Maing Kam. A plate arrives piled with fresh piper leaves (a broad dark leaf that has a slight shiso taste) and you sprinkle each with pieces of lime, ginger, shallots, dried shrimp, peanuts, lemongrass and a spoonful of spicy sweet sauce. Then wrap it into a small cigar-shaped tube of awesomeness and shove it in your face. For a main, request the Tavoy Salad. It’s epic.

WALK … down Pahurat – a.k.a India Town – and curve around to Chak Phet Road and the Pak Khlong Flower Market. Early in the morning is best, when you can watch the flower vendors create arrangements for the day. In a city known for smelling like rotted trash and dead squid at low tide, this area is as fresh and floral as old Siam gets.

RIDE … on the back of a motorcycle at dusk. Yes, your mother hates this idea. Which is one of the reasons it’s fun. It’s also a really beautiful way to experience this city when the sun goes down the lanterns start to wink on in the shops along the canals. If Bangkok’s traffic is a never-ending dragon, then this is hurtling through the capillaries. You slide through the standstill, a hair’s breath between buses and street stalls, cars and carts piled high with dried chilies. Make sure you insist on a helmet. People die constantly in this city from motorcycle accidents.

BUY … tickets to a Muay Thai boxing match at Lumpinee Stadium. Slurge on the front row seats and you’ll end up so close to the action, sweat from the fighters literally splashes you in the face. Which is why I recommend watching from the third row, where the only sweat you have to worry about is off the cold can of Chang in your hand

SLEEP … at The Siam Hotel if you can afford it. It’s one of the city’s newest boutique hotels and besides being stunningly beautiful, it doubles as a museum for the owner’s extensive art collection. You can also take Muay Thai boxing classes here.