Bangkok Burdens

After seven long hours of waiting at the Koh Samui airport and my relentless pleas, I finally score us two tickets on a flight to Bangkok. We board in the early evening, right on the delicate brink of fading dusk into night. From our window seats in the front row, Brian and I receive the special gift of watching the sky explode with colors. Soft blue daylight fades to dark navy, then piercing orange, then fiery red. It is mysterious, intriguing me to stare for the hour long flight. Upon arriving, we immediately ride the bus to the rail station. In an attempt to catch the last train to Chiang Mai, we soon find out our only option is to return in the morning, for there are no more sleeper trains available tonight. Not an hour in Bangkok and already I am reminded of the annoyance it caused us last time. Taking a deep yogic breath, I struggle to remain calm.



Luckily, an accommodating woman at the travel center offers us a room in a nearby hotel. By this point, we are exhausted, overloaded with bags and bordering on frustration. We agree to stay the night, pile into a tuk tuk and jump right back into the bustling traffic of the city. From the outside appearance, our hotel looks surprising clean and luxurious. The actual room, however, is a bit sketchy. The fluorescent bulbs, which makes a buzzing sound when switched on, casts an eerie glow throughout the small space. The thin carpet has numerous questionable stains and the small refrigerator smells like rotted vegetables. I try to remember acceptance of this fate, but my crankiness soon takes over and worsens as we foolishly attempt to find vegetarian food. I too soon forget what a struggle it was to locate good, non-meat dishes and Bangkok abruptly forces me to remember. Luckily, we find a local restaurant with minimal choices, opting for a dinner of iceberg lettuce and a mixed stir fry vegetable.



Early the next morning, we head directly to the train station. Again, we are met with resistance as no trains are available for several days. Rather than being beat, we decide to take a flight to Chiang Mai. Not as fun or exciting as riding a train through the mainland, but the flight is both short and cheap. One hour as opposed to thirteen hours seals our decision. Once booked and all details settled, Brian and I find our much needed peace by visiting Bangkok’s famous Lumphini Park. In the heart of the city, it reminds me of a cross between Central Park and the Boston Commons. There are wide patches of Crayola green grass scattered with trees that provide much needed shade. Around the park lies a track, full of runners at all levels and paces. There are several small ponds and archway bridges, and one large lake at the core of this urban escape. I am delighted to discover the park also has an outdoor gym, complete with bench presses, sets of dumbbells, and men in tight clothes with bulging muscles. Something so familiar and reassuring!



Brian and I find a flat, secluded area near the water to practice yoga. It is refreshing to look up during the sun salutations and actually see and feel the sun’s energy. I love the gentle breeze helping to keep us cool in the morning’s unbearable heat. We are surrounded by canopies of trees, long reaching branches sprouted with verdant leaves. The bugs are a bit troublesome but we refuse to let it disturb our practice. We are, however, a bit perturbed by a large moving creature in the water. At first, I assume it is a turtle or maybe even a snake, but we soon see it has four legs and a long thick tail. An alligator? A crocodile? I refuse to believe such an animal is lurking in the park’s lake but Brian insists. He is unable to rest in savansana (corpse pose) at the end of practice for fear we may get eaten. I have other plans and lay unmoving while he keeps guard.



We make it to the small, domestic airport and wait patiently for our flight. Both of us agree we are anxious to leave Bangkok, as the city appeals to neither of us. It is overly burdensome, painfully congested, to difficult to find food. It is too similar to New York, only we are the tourists with a language barrier.





To help us relax, we each spend less then five American dollars for a half hour foot massage. Reclining in the leather chairs, Brian and I drift away as the Thai women push on pressure points, pound their fists into our arches and massage our lower legs and ankles. They continually comment on the size of Brian’s calves, nearly swooning over his muscles. It is a wonderful treat, refocusing us on all that is positive and pleasant in Thailand. We depart for Chiang Mai, refreshed and ready for all that awaits us.