Big Trouble in Little China

For the first time ever, I am not quite sure how to start this bit. Whether it’s due to the alcohol-induced cerebral damage of previous trips…or merely that I have lost my eloquence, I have no idea.
Or, it could very well be option three, which has shed light on delusions of grandeur regarding my writing capabilities.

Just kidding. That couldn’t possibly be it. (sike)

Whatever the case, I suppose I will start this the way any good story begins:

‘Once upon a time…In a land far from the states…A (somewhat) young girl, with a bout of unconscionable wanderlust dropped off into the cement jungles of Hong Kong.

A far cry from her previous ventures, she entered the world wide-eyed and filled with wonderment. As she had hoped, the untried land provided just the right amount of seedy alleys, cryptic language, and pure disarray. To her, it was a perfectly placed game of chess. Pieces were laid, freshly shined, just begging to be advanced. So, with no sense of direction, and no sense of belonging, she began to walk.’

I am now one week into my month long venture throughout the land of noodles. Aptly named such because I intend on eating nothing but noodles the remainder of my trip.
A decision which I personally find to be not only delicious, but highly beneficial.

What do I mean by this you ask?
Well pray tell, what other means of sustenance cost around 50 Baht (that’s 1.484 American dollars to you non-thai), while at the same time filling your litttle belly for hours upon hours? …Exactly.

I am conducting somewhat of an experiment to see if it’s possible to live off noodles.
Tests are being performed in similar fashion to the European ice cream tests.
(Regrettably a failed analysis).

Although it has been fun so far, I must say, this has without a doubt been the most challenging trip I have ever taken. This rings true for more reasons than one.
For starters, if we’re all being honest here, I planned this trip more poorly than any trip I have ever orchestrated.

Let me elaborate.

‘Planned’ for me is: ‘I’m headed to Europe in about a week…Maybe I should pack.’
Or: ‘I’m headed to England tomorrow…Maybe I should find a couch to crash tonight.’
This time went a bit more like this:
‘Asia tomorrow? Let me throw some shit in a bag’
‘What city am I in? No idea what you said. I’m gonna start walking till I find a place to stay.’

Now, I would like to think of myself as a perfectly adaptable and capable human being.
Perhaps even more than your average bear.
With that being said, this trip has still proven to be exhausting as fuck due to the climate change.
A change that is in no way conducive to my ‘California Dreamin” biology.
I am not even slightly exaggerating on this one…It’s as if my body’s entire adaptive capacity has been depleted. Instead of enjoying a nice brisk walk down the street, my body opts to sweat profusely, breakout like a twelve year old, and burst into a heat rash. Oh, and did I mention simultaneously carrying the equivalent of a midget on my back and walking for miles at a time? The sheer thought of a hangover in this heat is enough induce a panic attack. That being said, I’ve refrained from much alcohol intake this time around. A good thing for me as well as the citizens of Asia as a whole.

Also the reason why you have yet to hear stories of breaking into the Palace of Justice or sliding down rooftops. I’ve done my fair share of trespassing here thus far, but it has been in a much more sleuth fashion. Except when I got caught…
Fortunately I had no idea what they were saying, so I remained blissfully ignorant.

Planning, climate, and even language-barriers aside, I think the thing ailing me most this trip has to do with a funny little matter of the heart.
It is the first time I have ever traveled somewhere feeling like I’ve left a piece of me behind.
That is all I have to say about that. If I continue anymore, you will inevitably be vomiting by the end because it all just reeks of love.
As I am sitting here typing away, I realize I have unwittingly sat next to one of the only Americans I have seen this trip. I apologize for my tangents but…Squirrel.

Though they are as rare as a snowbird in hell, traveling Americans, for the most part, have a funny way of making themselves the most hated people in their vicinity. Now, if you are reading this and I have met you while traveling, I obviously don’t mean you. No no, I am speaking about your quintessential loudmouth American. The one who thinks they know anything and everything about the world.

You must know the type. I know I do. She’s sitting next to me.
They’re the kind that can travel the entire world and see absolutely nothing.
The kind that ooze condescension everywhere they go.
The kind that cannot possibly seem to wrap their minds around why every country can’t ‘just be like America’.
They will talk your ear off from high atop their pedestals and blindly judge you…
They will make you tell people you are Canadian. Hashtag living proof.
Okay, I’ll stop now. It’s just that my ears have been raped for the last couple hours and I am about to snap.

Ladies and gentlemen, I just realized that I wrote ‘hours’. That means I have sat here for far too long. Nighttime has fallen and I must bid you adieu. I must go and make friends to wander the city.
I am choosing anyone but the American.
She’s driving me insane.
I’ll actually share stories from my adventure the next time. I do not think I even mentioned one.
Signing out from Bankok.

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