Body Aches and More Thai Hospitality

As we left Ayutthaya, Brant's body began to ache with the sad sad signs of inevitable sickness. Feeling weak, we decided to move a few miles at a time, pulling over whenever necessary.

We had all the time in the world to make it to Chiang Mai. Our permaculture course just north of Chiang Mai begins on October 17th, so with 17 days to get 450 miles we took it easy. Not to say it was easy for Brant. The sun was scorching, illuminating all of the color and foliage around us, but still powerful and wearing. We passed by herds of cattle and their shepherds and noted that cows here look very very different than cows at home.

We made a pit stop for lunch and Brant ordered sweet and sour soup and sipped on a fresh coconut. That is one thing you can count on here, good healthy food. Good luck finding soup and a vitamin rich coconut on the side of the road in Kansas! But here, a standard roadside stop offers what's good for anyone's tummy and immune system.

Around three in the afternoon we arrived in the small city of Sing Buri. We were told to call Mr. Nhong when we saw the "Money Pub" sign just outside of town. We both crossed our fingers and hoped that we were not expected to go to "Money Pub." But we called and Mr. Nhong said he would be there in minutes. Hot and sweaty, we sat under an  awning across the street waiting for our host.

You never know what to expect when meeting a stranger. But in a few minutes a kind looking middle-aged Thai pulled up on a Surly Long Haul Trucker. His bike was decked out with fenders and larger tires, all of the signs of someone who travels by bicycle. My favorite of his bicycle accoutrements was a cup holder basket zip tied to his handlebars. He tried to give it to me. Believe me I wanted it, but I couldn't bare taking such an awesome accessory. Instead, I pedal looking for roadside basket shops.

We quickly learned that Nhong's English was not fluent, but way way better than Brant and I's Thai. We communicated mostly in English, pulling out our Thai dictionary to help fill in the gaps.

We didn't know if we were going to stay with Mr. Nhong or what to expect, but within minutes he was guiding us to the local Thai  Temple. So that's how it happened, all of the sudden we were staying with monks. Apparently this is a normal occurrence. I had read on cycling blogs that if you ever can't find a place to sleep in South East Asia that the monks will always take you in, and that leaving a donation was all that was expected. Without any effort at all, we were experiencing this Buddhist phenomena.

Nhong spoke to the monks and then we were guided to a large room on the  temple grounds with tile floors, a bathroom, and some air conditioning. We were told that the head monk couldn't see us right away but looked forward to practicing his English and meeting us later. A very friendly monk who spoke fantastic English asked us how long we were staying. When we told him only one night he reassured and prodded us to stay longer. This monk used to work in a hotel in Bangkok, he explained, and that is where he perfected his English.

With the air con on, Mr. Nhong said he would meet us back at our room and take us to a good spot for dinner.

Poor Brant needed some rest and respite from the sun. We rolled out a big rug on the floor, drew the curtains, blew up our trusty old Thermarests, and laid down for a siesta.

We woke up to find that our shoes had been absconded by canines. Many dogs live on temple grounds, and like good old pups, they stole our shoes. Brant walked around the grounds retrieving our goods, laughing at the simplicity of life. Whether you're in Thailand or San Luis Obispo, dogs like shoes, toddlers have tantrums, pregnant women seem magic etc etc. My shoes came back with only a nibble in one of the straps (they have seen worse days).

Mr. Nhong escorted us to a restaurant and did all of the ordering. It was delicious fresh food paired with soup and rice.  Mr. Nhong and I split a beer and Brant nursed his health. But over food and Leo we learned much about our host. He used to be a policeman but quit two years ago. He now sells dried fish at the Sing Buri market, a trade passed down from his wife's side of the family. We learned that he is back in university studying public policy. He explained that many Thais want more money; he said he just wishes he could ride his bicycle around the world, and wants to work in his local government to help nourish his community. Every year, he rides a loop around Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam on his bicycle.

He refused to let us pay for our dinner, and then escorted us back to the temple.

As I lay there trying to sleep, Mr. Nhong stuck in my mind. There is a kindness about him, a peace, that makes you too want to be kind and warm. I felt sad too for some reason, in his struggle to communicate with us he felt so bad that his English wasn't better. But it just made me wish I could speak Thai. Why did he need to know our language? That weighed  a bit heavy. In America, Americans freak out if someone doesn't speak English, and here in Thailand, Thais are expected to speak English for the ease of tourists. It is true that English is spoken by far more people than Thai is, but still, it made me want to give my all to attempting new languages as we travel--whether I sound stupid (because I surely will) or not. I have felt extremely attracted to Thai culture ever since we got here, but speaking with humble Mr. Nhong made me want to learn just a little more Thai everyday.

The next morning we were set to meet our friend at 7 am. We packed up and drew our curtains and were quickly visited by the head monk. He invited us to sit and drink coffee while the monks ate a communal breakfast together. The monks eat every morning together but separately for all other meals. Brant and I  sat as outsiders looking in on a very intimate moment. The monks sang their prayers together before eating, and we sipped Milo and instant coffee. We exchanged Facebook contact with the English speaking monk, and spoke about our trip to the very interested head monk. We went back to our room to meet Nhong, and before we left, the same monk came back with a bag full of food he had purchased for us: three different types of milk (kefir, soy milk, and regular old milk), banana chips, mama noodles, and coffee.

Once again we were overwhelmed by kindness only to be overwhelmed by more kindness. Mr. Nhong greeted us with gifts, little wallets and journals, and then took us to see the central Sing Buri market where his wife was selling the fish they smoked in the wee hours of that very morning. Afterwards, he took us to eat a breakfast of beautiful green curry with eggplant, then to get some meds for Brant's aches, and then to get coffee. We got to experience the infamously cheap prescription drugs sold outside of western countries. Brant told the pharmacist how he felt and three dollars later he was given a set of drugs including antibiotics. He only took the ones for back aches and head aches, saving the antibiotics for a rainy day, but nevertheless it all cost three dollars.

Afterwards, Nhong escorted us down a road that followed the river out of town. These types of roads are Brant and I's favorite to ride. It winded us slowly along the contours of the river bank. We may have seen two cars for seven miles. Houses and people living their daily beautiful lives lined the small road. As we passed many shouted "helloo" at us and we shouted, "Sawadee ka/kruhp," back, which always makes people laugh.

The river was big and strong and brown.

Mr. Nhong wanted us to see a two hundred year old wooden Buddha at a very old wat. This wat was just off the small river road and was a peaceful sight. While we were there, a preschool class of little Thai children made a stop there too. They melted my heart as the said in unison, "Goooood morning" I said my usual "sawadee ka" back and placing my hands together and bowing my heard. They bowed back. Its such a polite culture, even rambunctious three and four year old's have so much respect. The kiddos took off their shoes before singing their prayers under the wooden beams of the old wat. I couldn't take my eyes off of them.

Mr. Nhong taught me the Thai word for children, "dek lék" (I am sure I have the accents wrong).

Just us a few kilometers up, Mr. Nhong left us and we were back on the highway. We thanked him profusely, and he explained that he wished he didn't have to work so he could ride around South East Asia with us. We wished he could too. Experiencing a country with a local is invaluable, but we were so thankful for the glimpse of Mr. Nhong's life and his love of cycling.

Escaping the Chaos

After some debate we had decided to leave Bangkok by bike rather than by train.  This would be described as suicide for some, but after nearly a week of observing the traffic and some reading, it seemed like a safe option (especially when compared to cycling in the states).  While the traffic in Bangkok is thick and the motorists seem to only loosely follow the rules of the road, all road users seem to be given their fare share.  Never would a motorist yell at a cyclist from his passing vehicle to get out of the road, or to use the side walk, or any number of obscenities that we received in the states. They simply pass when it is convenient.  Traffic jams in Bangkok are merely a way of life, and road users are no more bothered by being held up by a bicycle than they would say a bus, or a motor bike, or a woman pushing cart overflowing with wares or anyone else with a right to use the road.  That being said, getting out of the city was by no means easy.

There are several factors contributing to this difficulty, first to be noted is that here in Thailand you drive on the left.  In a car, the steering wheel is conveniently located on the side appropriate for driving in its associated country, positioned in the center of the road.  On a two wheeled vehicle you are not offered this reminder, and on smaller streets with low traffic it is easy to drift to the side of the road that you have been conditioned your whole life to be on. Until of course you are faced with on-coming traffic.  Secondly, road signs are difficult to read, granted in the city the anglicized versions of the street names are provided, but they are clumsily long and only sometimes readily visible.  This fact required us to frequently stop and find our location on the map before casting ourselves off in the right direction again.  Finally, as was mentioned earlier the traffic is dense.  This makes crossing large intersections challenging.

Anyway, long story short, after leaving our hotel at 1 pm, having a late but delicious lunch and slowly braving the streets we were not in line to reach our originally planned destination of Ayuthaya.  As it began to get dark we were passing through more and more rural areas.  Knowing that it might take a little while to find a place to lay our heads we used our broken Thai and phrase book to try and ask a family where we might try to find a place to sleep.  After several verbal attempts and much hand waving the son decided to lead us to a guest house in his truck, and so the wild goose chase began.  We were led to a beautiful rural resort that looked entirely out of our budget, and it was.  With our original guide now gone we asked the attendant if there was something in the area that was a bit cheaper.  They pointed north and said something about wave sport and 3 kilometers.  So we headed down the road a little further until we heard the whine of jet-skis on the river and a sign for the Wave Sport Jet Ski resort.  At the front desk yet another language barrier was reached and once again the accommodations were over budget.  Once the clerk was thoroughly frustrated with us we went off on our own, in the direction not recommended.

Before long the newly paved road turned to dirt and we seemed to be getting further and further away from prospective guest houses.  As we passed through a small village we decided to turn around and ask the locals for directions one more time.  By this time we had resorted to simply waving our hands wildly and making a sleeping motion with our hands and head.  The locals waved back pointing this way then that way to signify the roads that we should go down.  Eventually we were routed back to the road that the Wave Sport folks had originally told us to follow until we hit the main highway that we had been avoiding.  With no guest house in sight I made one last effort to ask at a nearby gas station.  Fortunately my thai greetings, thank yous and bastardized sign language were enough for the employee to point at a visible building about a kilometer away.  Feverishly we headed in the wrong direction down the divided highway, turned right on a smaller road, then following the neon arrows left down an even smaller road towards what now felt like a strip club.  Pulling up we found what appeared to be a nice motor lodge with little curtained cubbies for your cars.  The price was okay so we payed and moved our stuff on in.  As we pulled in the attendant quickly drew the curtains for reasons not yet known.  We changed and went back to the highway in search of street food.

Once again the first place we stopped redirected us across the highway towards the 7-11, of which there are many littering the landscape.  So we U-turned under the overpass, a common way to bypass highways or change direction, and pulled up to a small shack on a tiny street.  Immediately we were welcomed in and seated.  Our hosts were gracious, but spoke no English.  By now we had become accustomed to taking everything that came our way as long as we could communicate that we like spicy food, which had quickly become a priority.  The food was great and before we could thank them they handed us the phone with their daughter on the other line speaking English to us for her parents.  She asked if we wanted anything else and recommended the chicken fried rice, which we were obliged to order and it was delicious.  The daughter said that her parents just wanted to thank us for choosing their shop, and suddenly we felt very at home.  Not paying much for our three course meal we vowed to return in the morning on our way out.  We returned to our cubby and passed out in an air conditioned oasis, exhausted from only 30 or so miles.

We awoke in the morning to our air conditioning unit over freezing and spewing ice onto the ground, it was time to go.  We pulled out of our cubby and said goodbye to our motor lodge and went for breakfast.  Again we were delighted to see our family restaurant and ate a standard issue plate of fried rice.

It was about this time that we received a somewhat frantic facebook message from our friend Natasha who lives in Bangkok.  Apparently our cubbied motor lodge was not as innocent as originally perceived, but in fact a place where Thai men meet their mistresses.  The curtain is intended to hide the vehicle from jealous wives and the promise of 24 hour surveillance is not to protect you from thieves.  Oops, I guess the padded head board should have been a dead giveaway. 

I was starting to feel feverish, so our goal was set to the previous days at Ayutthaya, the old capital city.  Passing by many stilted river houses and small villages the evidence of last years flood was becoming more apparent.  The high water line sometimes reached as much as six feet up the walls of lower lying houses.

We reached the island of Ayutthaya by early afternoon and began the search for a good guest house. In city's, especially those that are well touristed, this is not a problem. Using the travel website Travel Fish we decided on a guest house called Baan Lotus. The only difficulty is that Google maps rarely seems to have the location of things all figured out. But after going up and down the same street several times we were able to locate our stilted teak refuge set back from the main road. The price was right, about $10, the hostess was lovely, and the rooms were simple, clean and comfortable, except that we got two single beds.  Not long after we settled in, a pair of Australian men checked into the adjacent room with a double bed.  We inquired if they would prefer to switch, but they assured us that they preferred a double bed to our chagrin.  We followed the couple, now friends, to a noodle bar and slurped Tom Yum soup while talking about our respective Thailand experiences before anyone had time to get "hangry" from the days travels.  From what they told us we were glad to have missed riding the bus.  The rest of the evening was spent walking amongst the 500-700 year old ruins amongst the elephant riders and decided to stay another day.

On the second day we took the opportunity to ride our bikes without their heavy burden to quickly skirt the city.  about a quarter of the way around the island I spotted an unfamiliar sight, a fully equipped touring bike.  I stopped without informing Lauren and inquired as to  its owner.  A pony tailed Thai man standing nearby said it was his and we immediately hit it off.  Before long he had told us about his  own bike tours in the area and his most recent endeavor from Moscow to London.

Without hesitation he, Mook, told us to follow him to his photography studio to share stories and photos.  He took us to lunch, where he would not let us pay, and for the first time we experienced some unfettered Thai hospitality.

Back at the shop we exchanged Facebook profiles, made mutual connections over another Thai bike tourist Soniak Siraphon whom we had both met on separate occasions, Lauren and I in California and he in Europe.  They provided us with some cheap passport photos so that we might cross borders without interruption.   All of this made us glad that we had decided to stay an extra day.  We said our goodbyes, took parting photos and continued our perusal of the city.

About at the same place that we had encountered Mook earlier in the day we found a sewing shop where I bought a thimble and Lauren found some sharp scissors to enhance our sewing kit.  We passed ruins, plowed down narrow alleyways, found local Thai outdoor markets and sought restrooms at schools, which are always a good bet.  Feeling exhausted we went back to our guest house and I collapsed on the bed beneath our drying clothes and Lauren took a shower.

When I awoke to go to the night market for dinner I found Lauren in the hallway less twelve inches of hair.  Sewing kit eh?  To her credit she also used them to cut the sleeves off of one of her T-shirts. Lighter and cooler we drifted off to the night market for our evening riverside dining experience.

The next morning we packed our bikes while the local kittens played amongst our bags.  I sat outside trying to update my DeLorme InReach while Lauren went out for some Thai iced coffee.  While being distracted, I found that Mook had sent me a Facebook message that his friend in our next destination, Sing Buri, wanted to meet us and provide more hospitality, we of course were obliged.  Before long Mook showed up in person on his road bike to confirm that the message was received.  We thanked him and we were off as well.  On our way out we filled our bottles at a local reverse osmosis booth and swore off rest days until we reached the northern city of Chiang Mai.

Good Friends in Bangkok

We spent two days without bicycles. The first day we slept. And the second day we worked on our last blog post about American soil. As we sat there writing, all of the sudden Brant realized that he left his cycling shoes in Massachusetts.

Not good.

After a minor freak out and a little inter-web research, he found a bike shop that could have shoes. We mapped our route and decided to walk.

On our way there we were stopped by a random Thai man, asking where we were from and  how long we were in Thailand, bla bla bla. He explained that he was from Chiang Mai and here only for a visit. We talked about how we were cyclists and headed to a bike shop. He explained that today was Buddha Day and that there were special promotions all over the city for tourists. He reassured us that tuk tuk drivers were not all out to rip tourists off and that you just had to look for one with a yellow license plate. Brant and I looked around us, all of the tuk tuks seemed to have yellow license plates. He assured us that we should pay no more than 20 Baht for a Tuk Tuk to take us to visit the many temples that are open only today for free. He wrote on a piece of paper, in Thai, all the places we should go, saying, "Show this to tuk tuk."

We  thanked him for his interest and left him to find someplace to eat.  As we sat there enjoying beautiful curry and noodles, we discussed what to do for the day.  I mean it was buddha day.

After our meal we find our man, a tuk tuk driver who agreed to take us to all of the pointed out sights for 20 Baht. Badabingbaddaboom. We thought we were all good.

There's something iconic and exotic about riding in a tuk tuk. Brant and I sat in the back, exhilarated as our open aired, motorized buggy weaved in and out of traffic.

Four hours later we had seen many cheesy Wats and buddhas, and in between each one, we were chauffeured to either a jewelry shop, a "tourist information center," or a tailor--all of which wanted to tell us what we needed (whether it was a train ticket, a diamond ring, or a tailored suit). Our driver received "gas coupons" every time we stopped, and after four hours, we were tired of this little carnival ride, and wanted off. So, when our driver got ready to whisk us off to the next buddha, we told him that we would like to stop at a bicycle shop, pointing to it's location on the map. He struggled a little bit with the change of plans, but in the end got us there. As soon as he dropped us off he said, "I'm done here." So we paid our dues and called it a day. We got exactly where we set out to go, it just took us four times as long to get there.

After visiting the bike shop and realizing that Brant size feet don't exist in Thailand and therefore there were no shoes to be had. We walked home, laughing over our tuk tuk scam, and trying to not be depressed about Brant's shoe situation.

We made it to the Shanti and headed upstairs for a much needed nap. Brant immediately pulled out the computer and began researching tuk tuk scams. Apparently, ours is a very unoriginal story. A seemingly random man tells you he is visiting Bangkok from another city, that it's buddha day and you must visit these temples etc. etc. It's all very planned out, but man, we were so easy! We laughed at how predictable it all was. We should have known better. I mean how did we think that paying someone 20 Baht for hours of their time is fair or worthwhile? If you want to pay someone nothing for a service, than guess what? You don't get good service, or someone else is paying for it. And with that realization, we napped.

We were told we could wait up to five days for our bicycles, so when we came walked down the stairs after our snooze and found our bicycle boxes sitting in the lobby, we were entirely taken aback and super stoked.

We spent the next  morning assembling bicycles and researching visas for Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. During assembly, Brant found that my bike had been mishandled (despite some pretty careful packing and labeling). The fork was a bit bent. So we took photographs and emailed the same folks who had been in contact with us from airport services. With a little bending and prodding, Brant got my wheel to fit back in.

We worked till eleven that morning, giving us just enough time to navigate our way to a pre planned lunch date with an old college roommate of mine, Natasha Hansen. Natasha and I lived together my junior year of college, and she moved to Thailand two years ago. Both Brant and I were super excited to meet a friend on the other side of the planet. Natasha texted me what BTS train to get on and what station to get off at. Brant and I left the Shanti, excited to see some more of Bangkok's transportation system. We took a cab to the same train station we got off at two days before, but then hopped on the Sky Train (BTS) to the Asoke stop, which was right in front of a new mall with an apparently fabulous food court.

We got off, and Brant fully realized that we were at a mall. A mall that looks modern, and hip, and full of cute clothes--Brant not happy.  

I was like, Brant, Natasha thinks this place has a good food court. Let's Just trust her. Plus, this may look like home, but look around, this is modern Thailand, this is where young, hip, Thais come to hang out. Brant still couldn't surrender his poopy pants. He explained that he was trying, but that it was hard. Meanwhile, there was a store that sold tons of KEEN shoes. I pointed, saying, "Hey, maybe they have KEEN cycling  shoes?"

Poopy pants Brant: "Probably not."

Me: "Well, it's worth a shot."

And guess what! They had a pair of cycling shoes in Brant's big foot size! We were both so stoked. And from this moment forward Brant didn't hate the mall. Natasha met us minutes later and guided us towards the food court--on the floor themed "San Francisco"--fitting!

The food court was incredible. Delicious prepared to order Thai food of all kinds, from panang curry, to beautiful fruit smoothies, to mango with sticky rice--and everything was around $1 to $2.

Brant was in a food dreamland.

We sat with Tash for an hour or so, riddling her with a million questions about Thailand, the Thai language, her experiences, and any advice she might have. I sat there thinking, "Natasha, you rock my socks." Seriously, she got up and moved here, has learned a new daunting language, and can write and read a new alphabet. To top all of this off, Natasha works here to help women get out of the very extensive sex industry that exists in Thailand. She kicks super woman butt is what I'm saying.

After talking Natasha's ear off, she explained how to take the boat taxi down the main canal. This is a way cheaper way to travel than by motor taxi, and both Brant and I were super keen on experiencing another mode of transport.

Natasha left us, and we headed for the underground train, which would connect us to a water taxi stop. She warned us to keep our mouths closed on the boat, and to watch for splashing water in our eyes--unless we'd like to be sick. Once off the subway, we oriented ourselves above ground and found the dirty canal. We caught the taxi going right, a long narrow boat lined with plastic curtains that pull down when at a dock and pull up when in the water, all to help keep that water out. It pulled up to the dock and within seconds it was off and running. For 12 BHT (less than 50 cents) each we were towed a pretty solid distance. Both Brant and I felt like we were on a cultural roller coaster, loving every single minute. The boats didn't feel too dirty, and quickly became our favorite mode of transport. The city seems so much more romantic from the view of a boat, instead of cars and 6 lane streets, we saw the life of those living on the canal, from flooded businesses, dilapidated houses, lush gardens, to people hanging their laundry. We loved it.

We got off at the last stop and walked home. At about this time, the sky decided to inform us that it was in fact the rainy season. It was as if it said, "Hey you Lauren and Brant! Where are your umbrellas?!" Every other person on the street pushed open a colorful parasol, making the sidewalks a sea of polka dot, mickey mouse, and leopard print shelters.

Shelterless--we ran from awning to awning. Little girls literally pointed at me and laughed at my soaking wet hair and clothes. Twenty minutes later we arrived at the Shanti, ready to put on dry clothes.

That evening, we went to bed like children waiting for Christmas morning. Why? Because our old friend, Miss. Lauren May, was arriving late that night, and in the morning would be there at our very hostel on the other side of the world.

And guess what? At 7:00 am, I awoke to the voice of Lauren May outside of my door. I got up and let her in, and we all cuddled and giggled for a good fifteen minutes.  We finally motivated ourselves up and out of our room. We wanted to show May May the market just outside the lodge. We strolled through the colors of the market and found a great espresso stand just on the other side of the canal. This was our introduction to Thai coffee culture, which is totally flourishing. And to my delight, most Thais like their coffee and tea iced…maybe because it's darn hot outside…all I know is we like it.

 We got back to the Shanti, and May introduced us to the friends she flew out with, Jessica and Aaron, who had just come back from a morning run. They were full of endorphins and equally blown away by the culture around them. We sat and sipped fresh passion fruit juice and ate coconut porridge.

After breakfast, we made plans to eat lunch with Natasha again.

We  took a long walk to the water taxi, wanting to see the infamous Khoa San Rd, the backpackers district of Bangkok, and to look for a guidebook.

 On our way it started to pour, this time we all purchased umbrellas, and enjoyed our trek through the rain. After seeing the neon lit Khoa San Rd. we were infinitely more thankful for the Shanti Lodge, far away from the madness of over touristy areas.

Aaron, Jess, and Lauren loved the canal taxi just as much as we did, and were equally impressed with Natasha's life, and the food court.

Our days at our Bangkok oasis spent with friends, eating good food, and preparing to leave were blissful. We saw a beautiful wat together, embellished in incredible porcelain mosaics. We rode the big river taxi, finalizing our transportation experience. Brant took his bicycle out for a small spin on our tiny little street, and children chased him, laughing at his big old bicycle.

But on Sunday, September 30th, Brant and I were ready to leave. We said our goodbyes to Jess, May, and Aaron. We suited up our steads. Not knowing exactly what to expect, and with a few butterflies in our bellies,  we greeted Asia with loaded bicycles.

Sawadee Ka!

On the 23rd of September the sun set on Boston and we flew out in a big bird. This American Airlines flight would take us to London. We played one game of cribbage and then I was out like a light, as they say.  But poor Brant is way too big for any airplane seats, let alone on this outdated plane.

Six hours later Brant had eaten dinner and breakfast with almost no sleep in between.

Both Brant and I had never been to the UK, someday we hope to return and see past the airport. The Heathrow Airport is absolutely huge. Once we landed we were shuttled to a different terminal a couple miles away. By the time we got to the correct gate it was nearly time to board our second six hour flight to Bahrain. This flight was operated by Gulf Air.
To Brant's relief, Gulf Air had slightly larger seats (not to say that he slept). He watched Ocean's 12 and Blindside and ate a couple meals while I dozed in and out of consciousness. Bahrain greeted us in the evening. Once we landed we could see lamp lit streets over the giant walls of the airport, giving us a small glimpse of another world. It seemed very dry and very orange, if that makes any sense. It made me happy we were headed somewhere tropical and verdant.

We ate at a Chili's in the airport (it was between that and Macaroni Grille). Here, we learned that things ain't cheap in Bahrain, as the one appetizer we split turned out to cost 21 dollars (including gratuity). Whew! We paid our bill and boarded our last 6 1/2 hour flight to Bangkok.

After 24 hours of travel we arrived at the modern Bangkok airport on the morning of September 25th. Customs were easy. So with the thump of a stamp in our passports we moved forward into the baggage claim area.

Here was the moment of truth: did everything make it?

We went to our baggage claim and immediately saw the only bag I checked. One down. But the claim was looking quite skimpy. So we stood there watching the same five bags go round and round, hoping that something would change. But the sign on the baggage claim switched to another numbered flight. Uh-oh. From there we went to look for our bicycles at the oversized baggage claim. No bikes there either. We handed the attendant our baggage claim tickets; he punched something into the computer, and then motioned for us to go somewhere across the room (if I spoke Thai, this may have been slightly more clear). We  walked into the other large room and found the airport customer service desk (I think this is what he meant). And Prapaporn, a wonderful Thai lady, who spoke pretty darn good English, filed a report for Brant's lost panniers and both of our bicycles. She assured us that they should be tracked down and located within five days or less and that the airport would deliver them to wherever we were staying. We thanked her, gave her our contact information, and hoped for the best.

We were so tired we didn't have the energy to be upset. And now that I have my bicycle, I look back and am thankful that someone delivered the bikes to us. After 24 hours of travel, assembling two bicycles in the middle of an airport sounds like hell, but in the comfort of our lovely guesthouse? Fantastic.

We ate some Thai food in the airport, our first Thai meal, which was delicious and well priced (considering we were in an airport). Those needed calories gave me enough energy to head to one of the cell phone service providers to see how much it would cost to get a local SIM card and phone number. I wanted to be able to update our blog photos on the road, while also being able to have the convenience of a local phone number. And boy was it easy to do, $31 later I had a new SIM and unlimited internet for a month, all in the palm of my hand.

And with that, we headed to the Express Train that would take us directly to the city center. The Bangkok guesthouse, The Shanti Lodge, was recommended to us by Going Slowly, a very experienced cycle touring couple with one beautiful website. The Shanti Lodge website had some fantastic directions for making life easy when you get off the plane: they tell you how to get on the train and ask you to print a provided map with  directions in English and Thai to give to a taxi driver at the train station. This  made getting to where we needed to go in a country where we cannot read the alphabet, let alone communicate, so incredibly easy.

We followed directions and hopped on the train. This was our first of many experiences with Thai public transportation. I must say, Thailand (especially Bangkok) kicks public transportation butt. The train was clean and beautiful, and both Brant and I had our noses to the window as the train flew over neighborhoods and introduced us to this foreign land.

We arrived at the Phaya Thai station, grabbed our few bags, and walked into the hustle and bustle that comes with any metropolitan center. As we marched down the stairs, a nice man asked where we were headed, The Thewet District, and then advised us to call for a taxi on the other side of the street. We did as we were told. Once on the other side of the six lane street, Tuk Tuk drivers bombarded us with pleas to take us to "Kao Son Rd." (the gross backpackers district, where, it seems, most every traveler stays). No Kao Son Road for us.

Our piece of paper told us to not take a Tuk Tuk, but to take a "Taxi Meter,"  these taxis have meters so that no one gets ripped off.

One wasn't hard to find. Once we got in, he looked at our map for awhile, seemingly a little  perplexed. Once he oriented himself, we were on our way.

After 10 minutes or so, he pulled into a one lane street lined with trees and bustling with Thais. He pointed, and there, in the midst of lush vines was a small wooden sign saying, "The Shanti Lodge." We payed our 65 Baht fare (a little over two dollars), and made our way to the reception desk. A Thai woman in her forties greeted us with a huge smile asking where we were from, how long we were staying, what kind of room we wanted, and if we had a reservation. We got everything squared away, were given a key to our little bamboo room upstairs, and within the hour (at one in the afternoon) we slept. We slept and slept--till 5am the next morning. It was exactly what we needed. The next morning, we rose with the sun.

It felt as if our eyes hadn't been open the day before, like I didn't have enough energy to take in all that was around me. But this time I walked down the stairs and finally realized how beautiful everything was. The Shanti Lodge has a magic feel. You don't wear your shoes inside (for the most part) and the rock and tile floor feels good beneath your feet. Even the house turtle loves it.

 The lobby/dining area is dotted with beautiful wooden tables and Thai pillows, and plants seem to grow all around you. Whoever dreamed up The Shanti Lodge, dreamed it up for the bookish mellow sort of tourist, appealing to those who care if MSG is in their food (as the restaurant tries to use organic veggies from the Shanti Farm, and prides itself on MSG-free Thai cooking) and to those who want to feel like they are in Thailand (not Disneyland) when they go to sleep.

 The Shanti kitchen didn't open till 7:30, so Brant and I ventured into the street. Turns out, across from the Shanti is a giant market that bustles in the wee hours of the morning, providing the local street vendors with their fresh vegetables and meats for the days work. Meats carcasses hanging everywhere, eels and frogs in buckets of water, coffee, rice, a gazzilion types of colorful vegetables-- the market is the most invigorating place to walk through at five in the morning. People laughed at us as we walked by saying "hello" in Thai (the only word we knew at the time).

Within five minutes of our walk out the front door, we both realized one essential thing about Thai people, they smile. They smile big and often. I think it's contagious (especially when you can't speak). So Brant and I continued our stroll, smiling. We smiled over the canal that runs behind that market and laughed at the swarming schools of catfish. We smiled as we walked out to the great river that seems to be the heart of Bangkok. We smiled as we tried to order coffee using our best pre-travel purchase, our "Thai Phrase Book" (we live by it). The coffee was sort of horrible, but we smiled anyways, and made our way back to the Shanti for a long awaited breakfast.