The Trip Over

The trip from California to Laos was, simply put, exhausting.

The journey started out fine enough. I met a man named Mitch at the check-in at LAX who was on the same flight and being that we seemed to be the only two English speakers on the flight, we decided to stick together.  Seeing that Mitch and I were conversing, the Chinese check-in man took the liberty of putting us next to each other on the plane, each in an isle seat across from the other. Mitch was an older guy, probably around 65, who was going to the Philippines to visit a woman he met online a couple months back… Hmm.. Red flag? Maybe.  Mitch was evidently going through a divorce and needed a vacation. He was a nice enough guy, though he tended to be slightly more chatty and vocal than I prefer. He was the type of guy who would interrupt you every 10 minutes or so while you were watching a movie to remind you that he didn’t enjoy long flights. “What’s that?” I’d say as I removed my headphones for the 5^th time in an hour. “This is gonna be a loooong flight.” He’d repeat with a look that said, we’re in this together.  I’d nod and agree with him and get back to my movie wishing that he’d realize we’re not in this together. 5 minutes later: “So where are you headed again?” he’d ask for the 6^th time since our meeting. Needless to say, Mitch’s prophetic words proved true. It was a long flight.  I’d say at around hour 7 of the 16-hour flight to Hong Kong the fatigue began to get to my head.  Having already watched 3 or 4 movies, I wandered the plane, pacing its isles like a nomadic vagabond; too tired to care that I looked like a crazy person.  The benefit of turning crazy was that I could relate to Mitch more and in the end it was actually nice to have someone to chat with (even if the topic of conversation would somehow inevitably get back to Mitch’s infatuation with Asian women).  

By the time I reached Hong Kong I had watched 7 movies, gone to the bathroom more than I could count, and was pushing the 24-hour mark for consecutive hours awake. 

The flight actually got in an hour or so late; so by the time I got to Hong Kong, I didn’t have much of a layover until my connecting flight to Bangkok. I must say, once I was on the plane to Thailand, I felt invigorated.  Here’s a little bit I wrote in my travel log (Stardate: 3022012.5):

“I’m safely aboard my next plane that will take me to the mystical land of Thailand. As the rest of the passengers continue to board, making sure to bump me with their oversized carry-on bags or elbow me in the head as they frantically fail at finding their seats, I can’t help but be filled with a sense of excitement that I’ve not yet felt so far this trip. It’s the magic of the unknown; the thrill of new experience; the energy of a new land… That or the prospect of sleep.  I’m not sure. Either way, I’m pretty stoked.”

Bangkok.

As stoked as I was, when I actually got to Bangkok, the panic set in.  People asking me questions in Thai; offering rides or rooms for rent; travelers running about frantically.  Luckily, I shared the shuttle from the airport with a God-sent saint named Dennis – a retired acupuncturist in his 60’s whose spirit resonated early 30’s. He had been to Thailand many times to do volunteer work and showed me some language/cultural basics to get me by.

My hotel in Bangkok

More hotel

Thai decorations

As I mentioned earlier, I seemed to contract some form of crazy during my travels. Prime example: I spent approximately 30 minutes taking pictures of myself like this in my hotel waiting for time to pass. I deleted most of them but I'd say this one captures that "I've been flying across the world for the past 36 hours and I feel like a corpse" look. Even so, I'll have to remember to actually be in some of my pictures during my time here.

The cultural differences of Thailand really hit me and I felt way underprepared. I tipped my bag boy $5 and I think he tried to tell me he wanted $20. Either way, he got $5.  I’m not sure if I was rude or if I had successfully avoided getting ripped off.. Or maybe I did get ripped off... Who knows? Regardless, I was happy to be aboard my flight to Luang Prabang the next morning. 

Last flight.

I arrived in Laos to smiling Pencils of Promise (PoP) faces and was taken to my new home. A successful 3-day trip from one end of the world to the other. 

View from my window in Laos, safe and sound