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.