Patong Gone Wrong

It comes time to say goodbye to Chiang Mai as we head to Phuket.
The flight is only a couple of hours so we're shocked when they serve us lunch; even more shocking: it's pretty tasty! A spicy prawn rice and some sort of condensed milk/fruit dessert.

At the airport, we walk outside to sort out transportation. There are minibuses for 120 baht so we buy a ticket and wait.. and wait... and wait some more. Finally a bus pulls up. We climb on, but still sit idling in the parking lot. It's apparent that we are not going anywhere until every spot on the bus is full. At least the AC is blasting and Arielle and I have both had the foresight to download some Netflix entertainment.
I'm blissfully lost in the antics of Will & Grace when we stop abruptly and are wrangled out of the cool haven of the bus and into a travel agency.
Once inside, we are asked about our plans for travel and activities. We lie that we've already booked everything and make our way back to the van. A couple people take the bait and we're forced to wait while they finalize the details on their overpriced day trips.

Eventually, the driver kicks us off on a seedy-looking strip with no hotel in sight. When we enquire where to go, he gestures in the direction of a long alley. We wander down the alley past massive resorts and I start to wonder. Finally, at the very end, nestled between two huge buildings we see the sign for Eden Bungalows. The hotel's restaurant is on the front of the property, but the grounds stretch far back from the street. It's stunningly beautiful; the grounds are lush with flowers in bloom. There's a nice pool and patio, I'm dying to take a dip but a sign says it's closed for maintenance.
Our bungalow is super cute, albeit insanely hot, first thing we do is turn on the air.

With zero plans except to relax and hit the beach we figure tonight is as good a night as any to get really drunk. We walk down the block to hit up any of the numerous 7-Elevens for beer, but when we get there we make a startling discovery. It's a Buddhist holiday, Vesak, and the sale of alcohol is not permitted by law. There are signs up everywhere and a lot of establishments have closed entirely. Now that I think about it, it seemed every group we passed in the restaurants were drinking pop...
An old dude comes in and sees the sign and flies into outrage.
"This is a tourist town, they can't do this!"
We shrug helplessly.
"I live here too, they should really warn people. I can't believe this."
All I can think is: If you live here shouldn't you have known?
The guy is irate. He yells at the young lady at the counter. I can't recall his exact words, but I catch the phrase: Fucking retarded.
Poor girl, it's obviously not her fault. Also, she's wearing a hijab and probably doesn't even recognize the holiday herself.

A decision is made to eat our feelings instead. We head down the main road while pushy men  pressure us into eating at their establishments. All the menus are indistinguishable and overpriced compared to what we've seen so far. Also, there seems to be a shocking amount of Italian food present. Eventually, we pick the cheapest place which ends up being the worst meal of the entire trip. The noodles are doughy, the beef is so tough I can barely chew it and the "veggies" are literally broccoli stem, not florets, just leftover stems and nothing else.

As we walk back along the beach, every couple feet someone steps in front of us with a command: Eat here, come here, have a massage here, come get a tattoo, get cornrows, buy this ugly bracelet, book a dumb tour.

Patong Beach is not our scene and we start to regret paying for three nights accommodation in advance. We return to our room overstimulated. But now, a new challenge: the air conditioning is not working. At all. The fan is blowing hot air around. The guy at the front desk comes to investigate and agrees something is wrong. He can move us to another room but it has one double bed rather than two singles. We don't care, in fact, we're elated. In the new room, the temperature difference is immediate even with the air running for only a couple minutes.

That night, I have anxiety dreams and wake up feeling sick and absolutely freezing. This new unit is doing too good of a job. I attempt to curl into a warm ball, but it's not use. I get up to adjust the temperature and then lie awake for hours, thoughts racing. When I drift off around 5 a.m. I wake up a couple hours later feeling like I've been hit by a truck. My eyelids are puffy and swollen. Arielle confesses she had an awful sleep as well and it makes me feel better... I guess misery really does love company.

Once we finally get ourselves together, we decide to walk further along Patong Beach to the more secluded Kalim Beach. We even find a good lunch place with lots of seafood options at a decent price (for the area, anyway). We read, frolic, swim, and keep an eye out for jellyfish. It's a little rocky but still good swimming and super peaceful. We get a lot of sun and decide to head back to the safety of the pool umbrellas, but first: beer.

By the time we reach 7-Eleven, it's just past two and they've stopped all sales of alcohol for the next three hours. We just can't catch a break! So we sit around the pool waiting until 5 finally rolls around and we can grab a couple big Changs. This may be the longest we've gone without drinking on the entire trip.
We decide to treat ourselves to something a little fancier for dinner so we go to Baan Rim right on the beach. And as a result we've dressed up to the nines. We walk through the bungalows out to the street and pass the huge group of salon workers, sitting outside and hoping for customers. They look us up and down and start cat calling us: "Oooh sexy ladies!"

At Baan Rim, I immediately feel way too poor to be there. Especially when they sit us at a table for six overlooking the ocean. We get deep fried prawns, chicken and mushrooms, and a pork and lychee curry (my personal favourite). The food prices are not bad considering it's a high end restaurant and compared to other places in the area.
On the way back we decide we'll stop by out bungalow and then check out the club district and get our dance on. But we're old ladies and we're full so as soon as we're back we flop onto our beds in our nice cool room and neither of us can be bothered getting back up.

In the morning we're up bright an early and grateful we didn't go out as today we have our Thai cooking class. Outside on the street the pavement still damp from torrential morning downpour.
A pickup truck with covered bench seats stops for us. We hop in the back and speed off down the road before stopping to pick up a group of Aussies. We drive for ages eventually arrive at a hotel with a treacherously long steep driveway and we all brace ourselves as we start up at a sharp angle.
We pick up another Aussie girl, the expression on her face reads: miserable.
Our driver finds a less intense spot to stop and tells us to get out as a minibus is coming to grab us. We all pile into the new vehicle and the driver starts rattling off hotel names and we respond to our designated locations. He says a name and no one responds. He says it again, louder. We all shake our heads. His expression reads: oh shit.
We drive all the way back to where Arielle and I came from and pick up another group. Finally we arrive at the market and meet our guide who explains different produce and gives us samples (did you know there are over 50 varieties of mango?!) She gives us ten minutes to explore on our own, so Arielle and I grab a couple more Thai iced teas, because we're obsessed.
The one girl who seemed unhappy tells our guide she needs to leave. She was in the hospital yesterday and now she's having heart palpitations and pain in her arm. She asks for a hospital recommendation. Suddenly, it makes a lot of sense why she seems so unhappy. The guide waits with her for a cab to arrive. I feel for her, travelling alone and being so sick.
The remaining group pile into the van and head further to the cooking school.

It's amazing, located on top a huge hill, the kitchen is all glass windows overlooking the lush mountains and surrounded by papaya and banana trees. First we learn to make coconut cream and coconut milk from pulp. Then we start our meal prep and then we cook! We fry up our curries, then our stir fries and then our appetizers.
Christine, our instructor, is clear and firm in her directions: "Water two times!" "Hand on handle, stir!" "Balance your wok!"
My dishes are simpler than everyone else's so I'm done first and experience the utter agony of sitting there staring at my food, trying to patiently wait.
Finally the time comes for us to feast. I finish one dish and save the others for dinner and tomorrow's lunch. I'm disappointed to see that many of my classmates barely touch their food and leave their leftovers.

On the way back I can feel my eyes getting heavy, I'm in a food-induced daze.
Back at the bungalows, they're cleaning our room so we sprawl out on the lounge chairs by the pool. I want to nap and I try really hard, but just can't get comfy enough to get that sweet REM sleep. I roll over on my tummy but there's a constant parade of flies having a dance party on the back of my legs. I grow frustrated and retreat into the room to nap.

I wake up just in time for sunset so we make haste to the beach. We stop to take photos of each other and a fellow westerner approaches us, beer in hand, and offers to take our photo. We happily agree. His name is Rob and he's from Colorado. We chat about snowboarding and our respective seasons and other typical travel small chat.

He's tells us he's going for food and invites us along. I abruptly tell him we have lots of leftovers to eat and we need to go eat them. Arielle laughs at me later for my ability to awkwardly misread every social interaction. We enjoy a quiet night in with leftovers, face masks, and manicures and prepare for the next day of travel.

Chiang Rai - Ladyboys, Hangovers, and Jokes About Opium

We'd initially wanted a temple day, but we've shot ourselves in the foot by not booking ahead of time. Instead, we decide to stay an extra night in Chiang Mai and arrange for a tour the following day, leaving the day open for whatever our little hearts desire.
First priority: all the food. We head toward the neighbourhood of the night market and stumble upon a little hole in the wall. There are maybe five items on the menu and they're all soup. The owner is serving all the tables as well as preparing the dishes. She has a big vat of broth and then separate containers filled with noodles, meat, and veggies. We joyfully slurp and promise each other that we will return.

From there we head to Catmosphere for a caffeine fix and some much needed kitty cuddles. The cats are bashful at first, but eventually warm to us. They're named things like Catniss, Yoda, Blue. At some point a couple of European influencers enter the cafe and I end up in their vlog. So if you come across a video of me crawling on the ground and baby-talking to some uninterested felines, know that I never signed a release. I start to feel sick, so we head back.

Instead of napping, resting, hydrating, or engaging in any act of self-care, I start slamming beer.
We have big plans to attend the "ladyboy" show at Cabaret, so I'll need to start on my buzz if I'm going to make it out that late.
On our way out and in the midst of a very loud inappropriate conversation, we round the corner and I nearly plow over the most gorgeous man I've seen in Thailand thus far. So naturally, I turn several shades of red and run away while repeatedly apologizing.

We need sustenance and there is a particularly happening food stall we want to try. We end up ordering two pork dishes: one is almost a candied pork in small cubes and the other is fried kale and pork in a zesty garlic sauce. They also serve us chilled green tea, sweetened with something I can't quite put my finger on, but the aftertaste is similar to marshmallow.

Nearly vibrating with excitement, we enter Cabaret and the place is packed. The show is everything I could have hoped for and more. The highlight is a rendition of Lady Marmalade with all the key players: Xtina, Mya, Pink, but Lil Kim is the standout star of the performance.

After an hour the show abruptly ends and everyone is out the door. Disappointment sinks in: now that we're drunk, we want to stay and socialize!
The performers also head outside and start taking photos with the attendees. All I want is one picture with my idol, Lil Kim, but all the other Moulin Rouge girls jump in and soon they're all yelling at me for money. I hand Xtina a bill, but she points to Pink and demands: "Some for her!"
Arielle is down to only coins, Xtina scoffs at the change, but Lil Kim knows money is money and gladly scoops it from Arielle's outstretched palm. I've tipped two of them but now Mya wants some. I only have big bills left, which she quickly spots and tells me she'll accept. We make it out of the mob scene with our dignity barely intact and our wallets empty.

Still hoping for one more drink, we go in search of another venue, but the market is dying down. I spot a Hard Rock Cafe sign with live music drifting from it. But when we get there, it's a crappy Red Hot Chili Peppers cover band and there are exactly three patrons watching. So we grab a large Chang from the convenience store and drink it on the walk home.

The handsome guy from earlier is hanging out in the lobby with another guy, I give them a brisk awkward greeting and continue to our room. Arielle suddenly thinks we should drink our beer by the pool. In all my naivety, I do not recognize that Arielle is trying to force me to interact with boys, so I happily agree. The two men quickly come join, the one from earlier is Casey from New York. His friend is Calvin and is from Taiwan. They are, respectively, shy and loud.
Some girl staying next door comes over and politely but sternfully tells us to shut up. Pool party is officially over. Probably for the best as it's 1 a.m. and the van for our tour is arriving in six hours. I slam water and chips before bed and hope for the best.

6:oo comes around fast. I roll over and groan at my alarm. Why? Why is it the one morning we actually have to get up early is the one and only time we're hungover? I pour boiling coffee down my gullet and thank drunk Fran for organizing all her shit before passing out.
At 6:50 they call upstairs to tell us our van has arrived. WHY? Why is the only time the van shows up early the one day I need extra time. I bring my neck pillow with the intentions of passing out in the back of the van for the duration of the three hours to Chiang Rai, but I'm in for a surprise. We're the only two people on the tour today and our tour guide insists we sit up front and chat with him. WHY??
Our guide asks if we brought passports (for the river ride through the Golden Triangle) and if we are looking forward to the opium testing part of the tour. Hmm weird, I think, I don't remember reading that part of the itinerary. Later, I will discover that he is joking, but at the time, my gullible self is like: "Well, I guess today we smoke opium."
Meanwhile, Arielle is certain we're about to get trafficked, and starts visualizing all sorts of Taken scenarios.

We stop at some hot springs for a break and I beeline for the coffee shop. I point at a picture and grunt. It looks refreshing as shit. The lady brews loose Thai tea leaves, mixes it with condensed milk, pours it over ice and tops it with foam. This is my first experience with iced Thai tea, but it will not be my last.

I sip my tea and we try to soak our feet in the mineral pool but it's scalding and Arielle falls backwards off the stump she's sitting on. I need food, fast; we head towards my all-time favourite business, 7-Eleven. All around us, tourists are boiling eggs by dipping them in mesh baskets into the bubbling springs. The combined smell of overcooked hardboiled eggs and sulphur is too much.
After an eternity, we enter the air-conditioned heaven that is 7-Eleven. What I want is a hot dog or taquito, what I see on the grill is a long grey sausage with some sort of spekking. I see another empty display case with photos of dim-sum on it. The cashier is trying to sell me the questionable sausage, I shake my head no and enquire about the lack of available dim sum. She tells me she can nuke some barbecue pork buns and I almost cry with joy.

We arrive at the White Temple and it's fucking hot and there are about a hundred thousand Chinese tourists, once again taking bizarre photos and ignoring any and all personal boundaries. Our guide shuffles us along as sweat streams down my body and I hope I don't puke. He directs us to some good photo spots and patiently takes tons of photos, he even experiments with the zoom and different angles. A real pro. The palace is really cool, but smaller than expected (as it's still under construction) so we're in and out quickly.







Next we head to Chiang Sain and explore the ancient ruins in a more relaxed environment with few to no other people around.

Finally, it's lunch time and we stop at a little wooden treehouse of a restaurant, surrounded by lush gardens where we're served coconut chicken soup, rice, spring rolls, veggies, and a spicy chicken cashew dish. It's exactly what two little hungover white girls need.

We set off for the Golden Triangle where Myanmar, Laos and Thailand meet. We take a boat tour and see an island in which Chinese investors have a 99 year lease and are building a garish hotel and casino. Hundreds of young Asian men are on the other side waiting to go through customs and boat over to the "Chinese Economic Project" (their catchy title, not mine.)

Finally, we go to the Opium Museum. It's there that I read about the harsh penalties of opium possession and finally clue in that our guides comments earlier were in jest. The museum is like most other places we've visited that day (ie full of tour groups) so we make our way through it in record time and back into the safety of our air-conditioned van. We head back to Chiang Mai with a quick stop for refreshments.
"Only one hit of opium each," our guide jokes, still stony-faced. This time we laugh although I'm still not really sure whether or not we'll be smoking opium.

Chiang Mai - Days to Never Forget

Rain hits hard against the window. We'd originally planned to navigate the train but decide instead to hire a grab and avoid getting soaked. When it comes time to call the car I open the app, but the price has suddenly gone up 200 baht. Supposedly it's now a "highly requested time." We end up just jumping in a cab and since they all refuse to metre, we agree on an overinflated price.

On the flight and Arielle and I watch Wine Country together on her phone and it's like gazing into our future. Time flies by (pun definitely intended) and soon we're stepping out into sunny Chiang Mai.

There are several awaiting airport cabs offering a flat rate into town. Our driver is a jokester, he opens the trunk and starts singing to himself, "Open the trunk, open myyy miiiiiiind"before bursting into a fit of giggles at his own hilarity.
He tells us he wants to make us smile and laugh so we'll love the people from Chiang Mai. He asks a lot of questions about Canada and tells us about the culture of the area.

We roll up to our hotel, Karou Lotus Boutique Hotel. We drop our stuff and head off to find food. It's late afternoon and all we've had to eat is one doughnut each. Arielle's sussed out a couple good food options nearby so we walk.

Crossing the highway is a chore in itself, but eventually, we get to the other side and down the street to the first restaurant. It's very much closed. We head in the opposite direction in search of the other one, cautiously crossing the six lanes of traffic once again. It is also closed, seemingly for renovations. It's a between meal time-of-day so there's no street food available and everything that is open is Western and expensive. I also have no desire to eat Mexican food in Asia.
Hot, hungry and desperate, our starved brains flounder to make a decision.
Finally we see something, it's open, cheap, and busy. That's enough for me. I smash a huge plate of pineapple fried rice and we head back in the blistering heat.
Back at the hotel, we float in the shady end of the pool, our body temperatures finally dropping, until it verges into evening and the mosquitos make their appearance.

After dousing ourselves in bug spray, we head to the Night Baazar. It's overstimulating, with bright fairy lights hung from every corner, lit-up old vehicles serving cocktails, live music, and hundreds of vendors. We explore and purchase a couple keepsakes, I'm pretty sure I've overpaid for everything, but I managed to haggle them down a little so I'm significantly satisfied. A group of stunning drag queens (or as their lovingly referred to in Thailand, Lady-Boys) covered in head-to-toe sequins and wearing elaborate headpieces are handing out flyers for their upcoming show. I happily accept one and I'm Hell-bent on attending.

The rain starts. It's gentle at first but soon it's enough to send the merchants scrambling in every direction. All around us people are running and yelling, climbing on stools to drape tarts, trying to protect their wares. Now seems like a good time to leave.
Our timing is perfect because mere minutes after we arrive to the safety of our room, the rain starts falling in buckets, then the thunder and lightning join.
We're a little concerned because the forecast is calling for more rain and tomorrow we have a date with some elephants.

It's a beautiful morning as the sun persists against the impeding clouds.
The shuttle arrives and we're the first ones on. Once we're all aboard our guide puts on a video about safety at the park and then another about the horrors of the elephant trade. I'm already crying.

Finally, we arrive at Elephant Nature Park. The gorgeous grounds are expansive, filled with all sorts of animals including dogs, cats, water buffalo, horses, and cows.
The first thing we get to do is feed them fruit. It's a bit frenzied with everyone clamouring to have their turn while also trying to get the photo and low-key fighting with another over the watermelon (apparently this particular family prefers it to bananas.) It's so incredible, holding out this bit of fruit and seeing their sweet little trunks coil around it and pop it into their on-waiting open mouths.

At one point a nice little water buffalo wanders over and waits expectantly for some fruit as well, but mostly gets ignored.

Once most of the fruit is gone, the mahot leads the family away and we continue with our guide.

We stop to meet a few of the more mild-mannered elephants and even get to touch some. Their skin is like rough reptilian leather, with short coarse hairs jutting out.

We meet another two elephants who are feeding facing each other, using their trunks to plop food into each other's mouths. One has a swollen, bandaged foot. It's so engorged that it's twice the size of her other legs. The other is blind with a tusk broken from human abuse. I'm amazed at their capacity for forming complex relationships with one another.

We pass a large enclosure with big brick pillars spaced apart and an additional barbed wire fence. Our guide tells us the males must be kept separate or they'll fight or reproduce with the females. There used to only be one wall, but the elephants were mating through the open spaces, leading to a couple surprise pregnancies. Considering females don't show during pregnancy and their gestation period is nearly two years, the influx of new calves was a big surprise to the staff.

Finally, it's time for lunch and we head to the giant vegan buffet. The food is delicious; I only make it through half the hot dishes and my plate is already overflowing. I'm stuffed, but insist on going back for spring rolls. During lunch, we walk around and read the posters with all the elephants' stories. Each one is sadder than the last: a lot have been injured by landmines and hit by cars because of illegal logging or abuse related to the tourism industry. But it seems even the females with extreme trauma, who don't like humans or other elephants, will still bond with the babies.

After lunch, we get to watch them bathing from a distance. Two youths fully submerge themselves and playfully climb on each other's backs. They remind me of children at the public pool on a hot summer day.
We watch a family as they eat corn husks, crunching down loudly with their strong teeth and wagging their tails happily like dogs.
As we pass by another pen, our guide warns us this particular elephant is a "naughty boy." He likes to pick up rocks with his trunk and chuck them at guests as soon as they look away.

After an exciting day, we drag our overheated sunburnt bodies back to the main platform and pile back into the van.
It's a long drive and we're tired so most people doze. My eyelids weigh a ton, but I hate sleeping sitting up so I promise myself a nap as soon as I can get horizontal. So naturally, when we get back to our room and lie down I'm suddenly wired and can't sit still so Arielle and I go out for dinner instead.

We get back and start going through all the media from out day, while I tenderly apply aloe vera to my now scorched skin.

Adventures in Bangkok - Palace Day

My eyes shoot open following another insane dream.
I'm wide awake and strongly suspect it may be the middle of the night.
I grope blindly for my phone until my fingers finally make contact: 5:45 a.m.
Not ideal, but better than expected.
Desperately, I try for another hour of shuteye, but quickly give up and start absentmindedly scrolling through my phone.
"Hey girl," says a tiny voice beside me. At least we're on this strange sleep cycle together.
Arielle rolls out of bed and makes us coffee. As she reads, I journal and think: it's actually nice to have this quiet morning time. I can't remember any time in my life that I was up this early.

Today is temple day and once we reach a reasonable hour, we sort through our clothing in search of something appropriate to wear to the Grand Palace.
The T-shirt I select is a little short, but if I wrap my sarong up higher it looks modest enough.
Arielle has a maxi dress, but it's thinned strapped, so she covers it with a sheer kimono.

I'm excited to try Grab, the Asian Uber-equivalent. I order the car to our location and we wait for the described vehicle. And wait. And wait. I message the driver through the app to tell him I'm here. He says he is too. He asks what street and I send him the actual address of the hotel. He tells me the address is different than the GPS location. Oops. Typical dumb foreigner.

Finally, he locates us and we scamper in apologetically. I'm pretty sure he hates us.
By the end of the ride he's smiling and laughing, especially when I misunderstand a situation and nearly dive out of the car head first into oncoming traffic. Guess my clumsy awkwardness transcends language barriers.

We look around a bit then start to make our way to the Grand Palace. We stop to admire another huge monument to the new king.
A man stops and gestures towards it, "The new king," he tells us and then launches into a conversation.
He asks if we're going to the palace and when we confirm, he quickly tells us it's closed all day for a Buddhist ceremony.
I can clearly see hundreds of tourists walking to the palace entrance and none are returning with disappointed faces.
He starts telling us about a boat tour we can do instead, he even grabs our map and draws out the tour route, all under the guide of being helpful. The price is insanely expensive.
We've both seen the old: where-you-want-to-go-is-closed-but-go-here-instead enough times. We nod politely and try to separate.
"Here, come with me," he insists. "I'll get you a good price for a tuk-tuk."
We politely thank him for his time and tell him we'll consider it later. Typical Canadians: Can't even be rude to someone scamming them.

As suspected, the palace is not closed. In fact, it's absolutely swarming with people.
We try to slip onto the grounds with the other tourists, but security grabs Arielle. Apparently her cover up is too see-through and her shoulders are too visible.
Not wanting to pay for gross rental clothes, Arielle resigns to wearing the raincoat I brought. It's not breathable and she's sweltering, but luckily we have no plans to actually tour the interior. It's overpriced and overcrowded.
We do a quick lap of the grounds, snap some photos and try to dodge the Asian tourists with no sense of personal boundaries.

We stroll to Wat Pho to see about this Reclining Buddha. Entry is more reasonably priced, so we opt to go in.
The grounds are stunning, we take it all in before entering the building that houses the Buddha.
It's phenomenal, everything is so lavish and ornate. The Buddha himself is colossal! I'm in absolute awe.
There is little time to enjoy it since navigating through the hordes of people takes all my focus.
Arielle and I ask a lady to take our photo and the moment I hand her my camera, she looks perplexed. Her expression screams: But this isn't a phone?!
She can't figure out to look through the viewfinder. She doesn't hold the shutter down long enough for it to focus. I call out directions to her, while the queue for this particular photo spot is growing and starting to resemble a mob. Stress-sweat pours down my face. She manages to get a couple that abruptly ends our photo-taking.

We wander around Wat Pho a little longer then head out for another amazing lunch: tom yum and papaya salad.
Re-energized from lunch we journey across the river in the little passenger ferry to check out the Temple of Dawn.
On the way there, the lady across from me gestures for me to take a photo with her daughter seated beside me. Experiencing a strange mix of flattery and embarrassment, I awkwardly perch next to the little girl while her mom snaps away. She shows me the picture after.
I like to imagine a random Chinese family showing their friends a slide show of their vacation: "Oh and here's a photo of a blindingly white woman, look at her translucent skin!"

The Temple of Dawn is incredible, but a bit much for my socially-anxious-self to handle. In every direction there are people taking selfies or lining up shots of their friends or asking you to take their photo. It's near impossible to take a step in any direction without an accidental photo bomb. I'm sliding toward an anxiety attack so we call it a day.

Perfect example of struggling with the zoom

We hail a cab and tell him we're going to Hotel Icon. Arielle tries to give him the address, but he insists he knows where it is. I haggle him down significantly and feel very proud of how far my skills have come in such a short time.
He drives and Arielle and I chat absentmindedly in the back, relishing the air con.
"Here we are," his voice shakes us from our revelry. "Siam Icon."
This is definitely not our hotel. And it's way too nice.
"No, no," we tell him. "Different Hotel Icon, this one." We show him the address.
"Oh no! Too far, too far!"
He decides he'll drop us at the sky train, for a slightly diminished rate, and we can go from there.
It's not up for debate, he's telling us this is what is happening.

We cram into the overcrowded train and make the journey. To add insult to injury, unbeknown to us he's taken us in the opposite direction so we have to backtrack significantly.
Our first order of business when we arrive back is taking a dip in the rooftop pool.
We head up the elevator in our bikinis while clutching a big bottle of Chang.
The housekeeper giggles uncomfortably in our direction. Faux-pas perhaps?
We ask the guy at the pool bar if it's cool for us to bring our own beer. He couldn't care less and goes back to watching a movie on his iPhone.
The water is lukewarm, but significantly cooler than the humid air; we sip beer and float.

The pool is on the edge of the building, surrounded by glass barricades, you know, so you can stay safe while enjoying the view of the city. A huge pigeon startles us, swooping low over our heads.
"Fuck off!" Arielle warns him. He swoops even lower and slams right into the glass window with a loud THUD. Arielle and I both scream at the top of our lungs. In that split-second, I have a vision of the flailing pigeon in the water and me having to save his drowning ass.
But he manages to recover and retreats to a frangipani tree; he's visibly shaken.
In all the screaming and chaos, the bartender doesn't even look up from his phone.

We're both famished and consider checking out some more food stalls, when Arielle discovers there's a Michelin Star-rated restaurant just down the street.
"Do we do it?" she asks, "Splurge for our last day in Bangkok?"
I'll never say no to good food.
It takes us a little time to locate Thai Nai Yim as it doesn't show up on Maps.me and it's tucked away in the alley of high-end mall.
When we arrive, they're completely full except for two outdoor bar seat which face a window onlooking the kitchen. It's like watching a performance: eight men in action, crammed into a tiny hallways of a kitchen while they crush spices and sautée vegetables. We order two of their signature dishes: coconut-infused chicken fried rice and spicy prawn and beans. It's all delicious and still under $12 each for a meal and a beer.

We walk back and try really, really hard to stay up until 10, but give up by 9.

Beginning in Bangkok

We plan to sleep in, but are wide awake by 5 a.m. So we give up the fight and slowly get ready while sipping coffee.
We decide to take advantage of the safe in our room. We load it up and Arielle pushes a button and instantly the keypad lights dim and it starts angrily beeping. The beeping picks up speed, like a ticking time bomb. Shit! We try calling downstairs, but apparently we can't figure out how to use the phone either. We walk down to inform the front desk, I mimic the noise and the guy roars with laughter. He comes up to have a look, but seems just as confused as us. He uses the phone to call someone else (apparently the phone is in working order) and mimics the sound, only he says "dit-dit-dit-dit" as opposed to my "beep-beep-beep-beep." Another man arrives, batteries in hand. This fixes the issue and Arielle and I enjoy the peace of mind associated with knowing we didn't break it.

Finally, we step out into the thick air to explore the area. It's still early, so most things are closed. We peruse the spas and get an idea for prices. We stop into one spa and ask for Thai massages. The owner of the shop ushers me into a tiny room with a child's bed and fleece blanket and shuts the door.
Let me preface by explaining that I've never had a Thai massage, nor do I know anything about the process. I am a huge fan of Western massages, so right off the bat I'm confused by the linen button up shirt and trousers awaiting me atop the bed. Wait, so I'm not supposed to get naked and onto this bed? Or maybe the outfit is meant for someone getting other treatments? I'm paralyzed by indecision.
On the one hand, I don't want to offend them with my naked self, but on the other, I don't want to look like an idiot.
I call over to Arielle in the next room and ask if she's putting on the clothes.
"Yeah, I think we're supposed to."
I throw everything on. Shortly after, the woman walks in to begin the massage and it soon makes sense why we're clothed.
She starts by adjusting my legs into a froggy position, then seats herself between my legs. She props one leg onto her lap and starts aggressively squeezing it. Her nails are long and scratch my skin. She supports my leg with her hands, wedges her foot into the uppermost part of my inner thigh, (mere centimetres aways from my lady bits) then she pushes with all her weight. The force is such that my whole body shifts upwards.
From there it's more of the same: she contorts my body into bizarre shapes, even climbs on top of me pulling my arms behind me and physically lifting my torso into a backbend.
Near the end she sits me up and starts karate chopping my back which turns into to a closed-fist punch to the back of the head. I wonder if I'll be bruised after this is all over. I also think 'Thai Massage' is a clever guise to beat up tourists.
It's taking all my strength not to laugh at loud at the absurdity of the situation: this old Thai lady pinning my arms over my head while she wails on me.

I emerge stunned and shocked. Arielle is already in the lobby sipping tea.
Later, we'll discuss our respective massages and when I ask her about the punching she'll look at me wide-eyed and perplexed: "I mean, she gave me a couple chops to the back, but nothing like that... I think we had very different experiences." Now it really feels like a personal attack.

Actual image of my Thai massage

My expression during the process

We decide to check out the weekend market, it's off the main skytrain line and easy to access. We pull up to the station and I'm shocked by the sheer size of it. They have everything you could imagine: hand-crafted leather, jewellery, arts, spices, sculptures, antiques, exotic animals. We're starving and overwhelmed so our first order of business is lunch. We pick a a food stall and both order noodles and a beer at a whopping $4 each.
I try to haggle with a couple vendors and they laugh in my face. After hours of wandering the market our feet are starting to throb. It's hot and crowded and we've had enough. I stop to purchase a fan and a watermelon smoothie, before strolling through the park and joining the masses at the train.

We're thoroughly tired and even more so when we disembark the train prematurely and then I lead us 10 minutes in the wrong direction.
When we finally make it back to our hotel and reward ourselves with a nap. I set an alarm for 45 minutes, but end up setting another alarm, then another. Next thing we know, it's been over two hours and we grudgingly force ourselves out of bed so as to not further fuck up our sleep schedules. But mostly for the sheer fact that we want food.

Google says there are some food stalls nearby, so we wander down the block. It's raining so we both huddle together under our hotel-provided umbrella and eventually spot a huge warehouse with people cooking seafood out front. We beeline in that direction. We order a coconut-peanut chicken curry, shrimp pad thai and a huge Chang and can barely finish it all. The spices boarder on intense and that's at its mildest.

We head back to the hotel with a couple more Changs and watch the first part of a movie before both passing out

To Thai For

It's 5 a.m. A part of me regrets staying out with Sam and Kelly until nearly midnight the previous evening. I curl up into the most uncomfortable and unnatural position humanly possible and manage to doze until the loudspeaker announces it's time to disembark.
I take the express bus downtown and hop onto the Canada Line, like I've done so many times before, but today is different. Today Arielle and I begin our Thailand adventure.
I stop at Timmy's for fuel; my phone lights up with Arielle's name. She says she can't see Tim's. My sleep deprived brain eventually realizes that I'm down at arrivals and she's upstairs at departures. I hurry up the flight of stairs and see her looking around the food court. I run up and scoop her into the biggest bear hug that we can manage, backpacks and all.

We move through security without much trouble and eventually board our 15 hour flight to Hong Kong. We're pleased to see it's a fairly new aircraft with a decent amount of leg room. The food isn't terrible and the alcohol is complimentary. We chat a little with the man sitting next to us, he and his friend are also on their way to Thailand. He was born in Africa, but grew up in the UK, before eventually moving to (and falling in love with) Vancouver. He comments how much he enjoys, and I quote: the laid back slow pace of Vancouver. Arielle and I are both fairly flabbergasted by this statement.

It's about 10 hours into the flight and my eyes are getting heavy. I gently recline my chair and manage to catch a few Zs. Not long after I'm rudely awoken when the window shade behind me is abruptly opened, spilling bright light directly onto my face. I can't help but notice the lady behind me has extended her legs and is now resting her gnarly old feet on my arm rest.
Then, the kicking starts. At first, it's light. Then it becomes harder and harder. It's almost as if she's trying to wake me. But, that's be crazy, right?
I swear she's saying "Up, up up!"
I move my chair upright, rub my eyes and try to think rationally. This conspiracy to disrupt me must be in my head. I slowly start to recline again and she kicks my chair, harder than ever.
"NO! Up! Up! Please!"
I snap my head around to face her. "I need to sleep too!" I yell, terribly aware of how unhinged I sound. She stares at my blankly. There's an apparent language barrier.
I don't know what her problem is, this chick is shorter than I am. Arielle is resting peacefully, reclined in front of the woman's tall husband, who is not acting like a petulant child.
I sit up again and mutter several curse words. This 80 year old woman is now my sworn enemy. My blood is boiling. It's very apparent that this lady will never let up. So I lay my head awkwardly against the window and try to calm down. A few rows up, a baby starts crying. It lets out a long mournful wail. It echoes my sentiments exactly.
I give up on ever feeling rested again and start watching the utterly abysmal The Spy Who Dumped Me.
Finally, after what seems like a literal lifetime, we disembark in Hong Kong. The air is heavy with smog, it's like the worst forest fire day in BC, times one hundred.
My period has decided to show up and the situation is dire. I buy the most expensive box of tampons of my life and also stop for snacks (obviously). The cashier talks us into buying even more junk food, "It's two for one." You don't need to ask me twice.

We reach our gate to transfer to Bangkok, but are surprised to see it's an open door leading to a bus. We climb in, sardine style, and start chatting with a guy from the mainland. He asks us where we're from. Arielle says Victoria and I say Nanaimo.
"Same thing," he tells me.
Sure. Just like Richmond and Chilliwack are the same thing, right?
He's just come back from two months in Europe, he's obviously a pro. He happily begins mansplaining all things travel. We get onto the plane and of course he's sitting next to us. I put on a pod cast and then immediately pass out to it. I wake up in time for snacks, which appears to be a giant pig-in-a-blanket, but is not tasty at all. It needs ketchup. I shock myself by not eating it.

When we land, our gracious and wise seat mate tries to convince us to have a drink with him before he catches his bus. We politely decline. I'm so exhausted I think I'm starting to hallucinate.

We scoot through customs and step out into the humid air. I spot a filtered water station and rush to it. The instructions are in Thai, so I hit a button and hope for the best. Boiling water pours out, the last temperature I want in my life right now. A passerby tells me to try the middle button. It's lukewarm this time, an improvement.

We wander out in the direction of the cab queue and take a number. Our driver pulls up to our assigned bay and we hop in. As I'd been warned previously, he refuses to run the metre, but the price he gives is only $2 more than what the hotel had told Arielle to expect. She turns to me "I'm too tired to split hairs over a couple bucks" and I couldn't agree more.

We fly down the highway, passing billboards a hundred times the size of the ones we see here. Some simply say "Long Live His Majesty the King!" others warn tourists not to get Buddha tattoos.

We arrive at the Hotel Icon and check-in. Someone hands me a boozy purple drink that I down in one gulp.

We get up to our room and finally the moment we've been waiting for for two days. We crawl into bed and sleep.