While
watching our Toyota hatchback cab twist between other Toyotas and mopeds and
large, outlandish billboards exclaiming "experts!" with alluring
gestures that made me uncomfortably confused to be looking at a Pepsi ad, I
realized my driver had no clue where we were going. He kept saying,
"Silom?
Ah Silom yes… yes." To which I would reply,
"No,
Lub D Silom. Lub D." This went on for a good 10 minutes before he
agreed to drop me off at the one hotel he knew of in Silom. Or at least the
only one I could communicate with him to drop me off at. I'm not too sure how
it went down really; we were speeding around concrete dividers and women
driving motorbikes with babies loosely strapped to their chest and the
billboards. Those fucking billboards. With the over stimulus of urban Asian
culture mixed with not knowing a lick of Thai, I figured as long as we
were both saying the word "Silom", I'd be okay at whatever hotel it
was. Especially if there was A/C. Perfect rationale.
The
driver pulled up to a Holiday Inn, stopped the car and said,
"Here,
here."
Holiday Inn… I gave the building and driver a
double take. I had to weigh out trying to tell him that I knew this was the
wrong place versus just grabbing my back pack and saying whatever. It seemed a
little inevitable so eventually I sided with the latter. Partly to humor
myself but mostly so I didnt bother the driver any more. That outfit alone
would completely ruin my day, everyday, if it was necessary for the job.
Especially those pants; that couldn't not be
hot as fuck.
After
convincing the staff to allow me on the internet without having a room, I
tried to text Jared and Taylor. I didn't
buy an international SIM card or data plan or anything before I left; that was
far too expensive and complicated to even consider. This was my first attempt
at communicating with limited resources and all I had was a phone on Airplane
mode with a wi-fi enabled messaging app,
Viber. To my luck, neither of them were online, but Taylor left me a message
including a room number which was helpful. If only I knew where the fuck this
hostel was, I would be copasetic. I decided to try to ask the
receptionists. We exchanged weird looks and hand gestures until I pronounced
the words "Lub D" correct (it took a few times). A manager came over,
smiled and told me that Lub D was down the street a ways and to the left.
I was
super grateful for the confident directions and wasted no time to start
walking. My backpack, map, and sneakers stood out like any other tourist so as
expected, I got asked numerous times where I was going. Each person would nod
and send me in the same direction; down the street and to the left. The
redundancy didn't bother me much because it was always followed with a smile
and a bow. I hadn't picked up on the warm kindness of Thai's yet, paired
with their explicit want to help and direct, even if they didn't have an honest
clue what or where I was talking about. They just didn't want to be
disagreeable or seem like they couldn't help.
I made
it to Lub D and found it surprisingly homey. It was minimal, with a circular
bar top that half met the outside and the air conditioned lobby between glass
sliding doors. When I walked in, I
noticed a strange, gigantic Styrofoam-clay elephant rear, with a face hole
where you'd expect it to be and a stepping stair. I certainly didn't figure out
its purpose until I watched people stick their head through and take selfies.
For all I knew, it was just the back of an elephant with a blown out ass. And I
didn't think much of it. It was pretty silly.
Lub D
had 4 floors with wooden stairs. Concrete walls, steel banisters; it felt like
Asian summer camp . There was a girls and boys locker room on each floor and
the dorms had ply wood doors with electronic key card locks. On the middle
floor, there was a theater room. An air conditioned, cozy little theater room--
filled with bean bag beds, a 40 inch LCD and surround sound. It was far more
than I had expected from a hostel that cost $8 a night. All of it. I was
impressed.
I
searched the floors for the room number Taylor had left me with, 3013. After
noticing that all the dorms had only double digits, I contemplated collapsing
on top of my bag, falling asleep and just saying fuck it. I dragged myself back
down to the third floor and noticed a guy coming up the stairs. Exhausted, I
leaned against the wall to get out of his way and then we made eye contact. It
was Taylor. It was fucking Taylor. He put his phone down, let out a big sigh
and tackled me. It was comforting to see him, even with the bear hug; it just
felt good to feel like I arrived. I felt accomplished and proud of myself
already. Like I had just traveled 7000 miles and found a needle in a haystack,
because I had. It may have taken a little more effort than just a taxi ride but
that’s probably normal. Especially without a phone, gps or any technological
intervention at all. I obviously hadn't
the slightest idea of what I got myself into but for now, I knew I was at the mythical
Lub D Silom.
Easy is
a dumb expectation to have in a new country. Having any expectation in a
foreign world is fundamentally just dumb. To think I had a clue of what to pack
based on Google; to think I had any idea of what I was going to encounter, with
culture and lack of communication and Baht.
The biggest lesson I encountered in the first 48 hours was to dissolve even the
most basic of expectations. Letting go and abandoning includes this. It
includes releasing yourself like a caged bird and extending your wings for the
first time without knowing where the wind will take you, or where you'll end up
but trusting that no matter where the destination is,
Its
exactly where you're supposed to be.
