I keep sitting down to write about the events of my time here so far, but get caught up in all the depth of how the experience of being here so far. I’m not sure if this blog was ever supposed to turn into a substitute for my journal (which is collecting a bit of dust on the desk) or a substitute for a friend I can open up to… which isn’t something I do in London anyway, so there’s another point to Bangkok: it’s actually getting me to use this site I’ve been paying for for 10 years and writing again.
And writing is something that makes me really come alive. I’ve wondered if I should chase my dream and natural gift for writing, or what I think is an inherited dream of travelling in its place. Maybe the two aren’t as exclusive as I thought?
Okay, okay, before I dig another hole where my tangents lie and blog posts get caught up in, what’s been occurring?
It feels like a lot and not much at the same time.
DAY 1
After getting to my Airbnb and throwing my stuff down, I looked up some places where I can stock up on toiletries and things I didn’t bring (which was everything, and not a good idea in hindsight). Man, being hit with that heavy, hot and humid Thai air is a wonderful feeling. Walking down a long street and coming to a road full of tuk tuks and pollution? It was all like taking a drag of a cigarette on a night out drinking. Like taking a sip of a cold drink on an extremely hot day, the bottle perspiring with cool condensation.
I walked a bit and passed by a huge Lotus Supermarket, a little overwhelmed by how much was there, asking a few Brits for where to go, and then heading up a level to find the actual Lotus supermarket. My jaw hit the floor at how much things like toothpaste, sunscreen and skincare cost… like, double the amount as in the UK!
I met Neu, a lovely staff member who spent absolutely ages helping me find what I needed without breaking the bank, speaking very good English (of course, she didn’t think so) and holding on to my basket when I ran to Watsons pharmacy (where another lovely person helped) to compare prices.
My card decided to not let me use it to pay for anything, holding up the self-checkout and making me panic a little bit. After a long time of wondering whether I’m going to have to break the bank to call the bank and ask what the fuck they’re doing to me, it turns out they texted my English number to confirm the purchases were from me, but I’d deactivated the sim. Crisis averted! And so much quicker than what would happen 10 years ago, when I’d be well and truly screwed.
There’s something about Thai prices that looks incredibly reasonable. 240 baht for ramen? It’s not quite the cheap, delicious Thai food for 50 baht I’ve been picturing having daily, but whatever, my brain was melted cheese at this point, so I went for it. But it’s not actually CHEAP CHEAP. Compared to London? Yeah, but should I be spending that much on a meal in Thailand?
Those are the kinds of questions that would be whispering through my ear for the next few days.
I got outside to find the familiar daylight had given way to darkness and heavy rain, which I was most definitely not familiar with in Thailand. Not like this, not in Bangkok. I again let my brain take to autopilot and walk myself home in spite of how wet I was going to get, because I really wanted to get to a 7-Eleven. And I was so inordinately happy walking through the doors, hearing the chime, seeing the uniforms, the aisles of snacks, foods and more… and browsing the microwavable section!
When I was in Thailand 10 years ago and going through states of crisis, Airbnbs and 7-Elevens were my go-to for feeling safe and like I belonged. That might sound kind of outrageous, and I remember a few people (all tourists, of course) back then being somewhat concerned – and occasionally offended – that instead of making the most of the amazing places in Thailand and all the delicious food, I was holed up in an Airbnb for weeks, microwaving ready meals all day from the closest convenience store.
But for the 10-years-younger Kenny, who landed in Bangkok without any preparation, without any idea of what he was doing or was going to do, no clue how to get around, how to meet people, feeling incredibly anxious about not fitting in, and then EXTREMELY anxious after a night of drinking in an attempt to fit in, only to be left with existential dread from the hangover?
For that Kenny who was so worried about being there that he sometimes didn’t have the courage to even sit at a food stall and eat – and why would he when he he could be reaching for a Chang beer to fit in again), or wake up with social anxiety in a hostel room crammed full of strangers who absolutely could read his mind that was riddled with insecurity, who were judging him and his weird, ill-fitting travel clothes?
For that Kenny who had ended up in such an unstable place abroad to escape the suffocating instability of how things were back ‘home?’
Man. You will never feel a sense of relief going from all that and wondering where the next disappointment in life is going to come from, and then opening the door and turning the lights on to find a big air conditioned apartment all to yourself. Opening the door to the fridge and finding all your new favourite foods and drinks from the convenience store stacked up. Looking out over the balcony and across the cityscape of Thailand, hearing the noise of the roads, feeling the weight of the oppressive weather, knowing that somewhere along the horizon is a sea, and beyond that, a country and people you absolutely cannot come back to.
But behind you is a door to your own space, those microwavable ready meals, your safety, your stability, your independence.
You will never taste anything like that in your Thai market-made Pad Thai or Michelin star taster menu. You will never feel anything like that on the back of the scooter your rented or the elephant you’re riding, or as you swim back to the shore for a selfie from paradise.
You can only find that in a ham and cheese croissant from 7-11 after waking up and realising that today, the sky will not be falling down, after all.
