The Sixth Continent
Cities like this make me fall in love for the first time, all over again.
Here I am, feet swinging pool side, on my sixth continent: Asia. I cannot help but reflect on all of the incredible experiences I've been privileged enough to have in the past fourteen years.
The first time I saw the ocean I was eighteen. I talked some friends into a Spring Break trip down to Key West. Being broke we packed a cooler and sleeping bags as we drove down in a rust-bucket passenger van to the southern tip of Florida. It was my first time seeing the ocean. I fell in love with snorkeling. An hour into our drive back to Indiana the van broke down--irreparable the mechanic told us. No one was old enough to rent a car.
The first time I left the United States it was for a full time nannying job I was working while going to college in Boston. They needed someone to watch their two year old in exchange for airfare and a passport. I took a disposable camera and $200. I had no idea what I was doing. I fell in love with London city-scapes, no-name Irish pubs with private back-door gardens, and Italian vineyards.
In my six month stint in Australia, I got certified to dive on the Great Barrier Reef and learned too late you should only take electives while studying abroad--never required courses for graduation. I took out loans to pay for my time there that I wouldn't be able to pay off for years to come.
For my twenty-sixth birthday I planned a trip to South Africa, that to this day, is still my favorite place on Earth--if you don't count home, Indiana, or New York City. I fell first for the people, then for the breathtaking Cape Town scenery, but most of all for the adventure tourism--great white shark diving, bungee jumping, zip lining, hiking, alligator diving, tiger petting, and touring cliff-side vineyards. I worked three jobs to pay for the trip. It would have been worth working six.
At thirty-one I finally hiked Machu Picchu. Four days, two of which it rained. In the final mile of the hike, you climb what are known as the 'Gringo Killers'--uneven, vertical steps that are root covered and seemingly never end. At the top is the Sun Gate, where you can see your first glimpse of Machu Picchu. We couldn't see our hands in front of our face, let alone the ruins. I fell in love with the electric eels in the Amazon River, the Peruvian cuisine, and the Incan ruins, which finally appeared a mere ten feet in front of us an hour after we made our climb to Machu Picchu.
And now here we are. Thailand.
I always find it obnoxious when someone tells me they won't travel somewhere because it's a long plane ride. Maybe it's because I would sit in the cargo area, provided I had oxygen, if that was my only option. Leg room? Unnecessary luxury.
Twenty-four hours before the flight and I haven't packed. I still have one more novel I need to finish and return to the library before I go. 6 AM alarm. Read. Shower. Read. Dry my hair. Read. Make my bed. Read. Finish packing. Return library book. I grab a taxi at 8:30 AM, only five minutes behind schedule, and feel the adrenaline that only an outbound flight can fuel. Checked baggage. Security. Coke with a lot of ice (Calm down. I'm on vacation.) And I'm walking onto my flight. China bound. Sixteen hours. No sleep, as I want to beat the jet-lag I'm sure to face if I sleep before I make it to Thailand. Flying over Siberia reminds me Russia is on my list. But after all, it's a long list. Guangzhao. 4 hour layover. Barely awake. Turns out Bangkok is 3 hours from Guangzaho, not 2. Isn't that a slap in the face? At long last,Thailand. Only an hour cab ride to the hotel. I'm wide awake. The adrenaline has resurfaced.
We're staying at Riva Surya, a gorgeous hotel on the Phraya River. This is the first time I haven't stayed in a hostel abroad. Our room has a lovely terrace that faces the road. The back deck is a serene poolside with a bar that overlooks the river. The currency here is the Thai Baht, and the current exchange is roughly 31 THB to 1 USD. Living large. We're 11 hours ahead of New York.
This morning we woke up at 6 AM. We made our way, however briefly, to the hotel gym. We quickly showered and every single hair product I could find to survive the palpable humidity went in my hair. We strolled down curved back-alleys and side streets, as we wove our way to Khao San Road, infamous for its rowdy backpacker and bar scene. After curious glances to several street carts, we finally landed on one based off of a nodding recommendation from a Thai tuk-tuk driver. I debated whether or not to ask what the dishes are--some things are better left unsaid. In the end I'm told the dish I have pointed to is a spicy concoction with, by her opening and closing hand gestures, I deduced, mussels. It's served over rice and with an over easy egg on top. Not sure what animal the egg is from, but nothing cried out when I cut it open... It cost a $1.50 for breakfast, and, frankly, I'd be okay if it came from just about any animal. It was delicious. A friend of mine recently professed how much he loves Thai food--I'm not convinced I had even tasted Thai food before this breakfast.
From breakfast we made the mile jaunt to the Grand Palace. Unimaginably grand. Construction on the Grand Palace began in 1782, housing both the King and Phra Kaeo--The Emerald Buddha. The temple is Thailand's holiest shrine, but unlike other Thai wats (temples), has no resident monks. The Palace hosts everything from gilded figures like Apsonsi, a mythical create, half woman-half lion, to the Phra Mondop library, to the Emerald Buddha. You could spend a full week here and not see all of the gold-laced monuments.
At 11:30 we switched gears to Wat Pho, officially known as Wat Phra Chetuphon, or Temple of the Reclining Buddha. We toured the Main Bot which houses a bronze meditating Buddha statue as well as the Phra Si Sanphet Chedi, which is said to house sacred Buddha remains. We have found that every Bodhi Tree we see is said to have been cut from the one under which Buddha meditated in India. I remain skeptical. We didn't make it to the Reclining Buddha, but plan to head back on Sunday before heading to the floating river markets.
At 3:30 we finally made it to the now infamous Michelin Starred street vendor. Raan Jay Fai is one of only two street vendors to have ever received a Michelin Star. Getting a dinner reservation a month ago wasn't an option, so we settled for a late lunch and were starving by the time we stumbled in. Jay Fai wears goggles, thermal boots, and a frown. She is the only one who cooks, and has a few other Thai women who do the nuanced chores of serving a hungry customer base. The line is at least fifty people deep at all times. With a reservation we still waited 30 minutes to be seated and an hour for our food. They're known for their crab omelette and their drunken noodles. We opted for both, but became otherwise persuaded when we saw another spicy seafood dish make its way out to the run down seating area. The food was as hyped, and at $40 a plate, was as much as our hotel room a night.
From dinner we made the 30 minute walk to The Deck--a rooftop bar well known for their lousy cocktails and spectacular view of Wat Arun: Temple of the Dawn. We watched the sunset over Arun, taking in the sights of the passing cargo ships on the river between. Having made our way back to the hotel, I'm sitting here, typing this and wondering what tomorrow's tour of Ayutthaya has in store for us.
Who knows what I'll fall in love with next.
Here I am, feet swinging pool side, on my sixth continent: Asia. I cannot help but reflect on all of the incredible experiences I've been privileged enough to have in the past fourteen years.
The first time I saw the ocean I was eighteen. I talked some friends into a Spring Break trip down to Key West. Being broke we packed a cooler and sleeping bags as we drove down in a rust-bucket passenger van to the southern tip of Florida. It was my first time seeing the ocean. I fell in love with snorkeling. An hour into our drive back to Indiana the van broke down--irreparable the mechanic told us. No one was old enough to rent a car.
The first time I left the United States it was for a full time nannying job I was working while going to college in Boston. They needed someone to watch their two year old in exchange for airfare and a passport. I took a disposable camera and $200. I had no idea what I was doing. I fell in love with London city-scapes, no-name Irish pubs with private back-door gardens, and Italian vineyards.
In my six month stint in Australia, I got certified to dive on the Great Barrier Reef and learned too late you should only take electives while studying abroad--never required courses for graduation. I took out loans to pay for my time there that I wouldn't be able to pay off for years to come.
For my twenty-sixth birthday I planned a trip to South Africa, that to this day, is still my favorite place on Earth--if you don't count home, Indiana, or New York City. I fell first for the people, then for the breathtaking Cape Town scenery, but most of all for the adventure tourism--great white shark diving, bungee jumping, zip lining, hiking, alligator diving, tiger petting, and touring cliff-side vineyards. I worked three jobs to pay for the trip. It would have been worth working six.
At thirty-one I finally hiked Machu Picchu. Four days, two of which it rained. In the final mile of the hike, you climb what are known as the 'Gringo Killers'--uneven, vertical steps that are root covered and seemingly never end. At the top is the Sun Gate, where you can see your first glimpse of Machu Picchu. We couldn't see our hands in front of our face, let alone the ruins. I fell in love with the electric eels in the Amazon River, the Peruvian cuisine, and the Incan ruins, which finally appeared a mere ten feet in front of us an hour after we made our climb to Machu Picchu.
And now here we are. Thailand.
I always find it obnoxious when someone tells me they won't travel somewhere because it's a long plane ride. Maybe it's because I would sit in the cargo area, provided I had oxygen, if that was my only option. Leg room? Unnecessary luxury.
Twenty-four hours before the flight and I haven't packed. I still have one more novel I need to finish and return to the library before I go. 6 AM alarm. Read. Shower. Read. Dry my hair. Read. Make my bed. Read. Finish packing. Return library book. I grab a taxi at 8:30 AM, only five minutes behind schedule, and feel the adrenaline that only an outbound flight can fuel. Checked baggage. Security. Coke with a lot of ice (Calm down. I'm on vacation.) And I'm walking onto my flight. China bound. Sixteen hours. No sleep, as I want to beat the jet-lag I'm sure to face if I sleep before I make it to Thailand. Flying over Siberia reminds me Russia is on my list. But after all, it's a long list. Guangzhao. 4 hour layover. Barely awake. Turns out Bangkok is 3 hours from Guangzaho, not 2. Isn't that a slap in the face? At long last,Thailand. Only an hour cab ride to the hotel. I'm wide awake. The adrenaline has resurfaced.
We're staying at Riva Surya, a gorgeous hotel on the Phraya River. This is the first time I haven't stayed in a hostel abroad. Our room has a lovely terrace that faces the road. The back deck is a serene poolside with a bar that overlooks the river. The currency here is the Thai Baht, and the current exchange is roughly 31 THB to 1 USD. Living large. We're 11 hours ahead of New York.
This morning we woke up at 6 AM. We made our way, however briefly, to the hotel gym. We quickly showered and every single hair product I could find to survive the palpable humidity went in my hair. We strolled down curved back-alleys and side streets, as we wove our way to Khao San Road, infamous for its rowdy backpacker and bar scene. After curious glances to several street carts, we finally landed on one based off of a nodding recommendation from a Thai tuk-tuk driver. I debated whether or not to ask what the dishes are--some things are better left unsaid. In the end I'm told the dish I have pointed to is a spicy concoction with, by her opening and closing hand gestures, I deduced, mussels. It's served over rice and with an over easy egg on top. Not sure what animal the egg is from, but nothing cried out when I cut it open... It cost a $1.50 for breakfast, and, frankly, I'd be okay if it came from just about any animal. It was delicious. A friend of mine recently professed how much he loves Thai food--I'm not convinced I had even tasted Thai food before this breakfast.
From breakfast we made the mile jaunt to the Grand Palace. Unimaginably grand. Construction on the Grand Palace began in 1782, housing both the King and Phra Kaeo--The Emerald Buddha. The temple is Thailand's holiest shrine, but unlike other Thai wats (temples), has no resident monks. The Palace hosts everything from gilded figures like Apsonsi, a mythical create, half woman-half lion, to the Phra Mondop library, to the Emerald Buddha. You could spend a full week here and not see all of the gold-laced monuments.
At 11:30 we switched gears to Wat Pho, officially known as Wat Phra Chetuphon, or Temple of the Reclining Buddha. We toured the Main Bot which houses a bronze meditating Buddha statue as well as the Phra Si Sanphet Chedi, which is said to house sacred Buddha remains. We have found that every Bodhi Tree we see is said to have been cut from the one under which Buddha meditated in India. I remain skeptical. We didn't make it to the Reclining Buddha, but plan to head back on Sunday before heading to the floating river markets.
At 3:30 we finally made it to the now infamous Michelin Starred street vendor. Raan Jay Fai is one of only two street vendors to have ever received a Michelin Star. Getting a dinner reservation a month ago wasn't an option, so we settled for a late lunch and were starving by the time we stumbled in. Jay Fai wears goggles, thermal boots, and a frown. She is the only one who cooks, and has a few other Thai women who do the nuanced chores of serving a hungry customer base. The line is at least fifty people deep at all times. With a reservation we still waited 30 minutes to be seated and an hour for our food. They're known for their crab omelette and their drunken noodles. We opted for both, but became otherwise persuaded when we saw another spicy seafood dish make its way out to the run down seating area. The food was as hyped, and at $40 a plate, was as much as our hotel room a night.
From dinner we made the 30 minute walk to The Deck--a rooftop bar well known for their lousy cocktails and spectacular view of Wat Arun: Temple of the Dawn. We watched the sunset over Arun, taking in the sights of the passing cargo ships on the river between. Having made our way back to the hotel, I'm sitting here, typing this and wondering what tomorrow's tour of Ayutthaya has in store for us.
Who knows what I'll fall in love with next.
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