It was the moment that everyone was waiting for—the tropical paradise. As we tumbled out of the van finally arriving at the Golden Bay Cottages in Ko Lanta, we quickly checked in and put down our things. Some refreshed ourselves after the long never-ending ride from Chumpon. Then we went to the beach right outside our bungalows.

I wandered up and down by myself on the beach, looking at the hotels. Watching other people. The crowds. And the near stillness, interrupted by a crash of soft waves on the beach. The beach was clean, unlittered. There were a few ships in the distance. Nobody in the water.

Out in the distance, I saw four figures against the scene—a sun setting on a horizon. Having been around the same people for more than a week, I could tell it was Shipra, Jeff, Katy and John. Stopping, I took a picture of the moment—wanting to show people back home what I saw. But only what I saw, not quite what I was feeling. Not wanting to do my wimpy exit even with a desire for solitude, I walked over and waved as someone saw me.

Jeff ran toward me in full speed and I pulled my arms close to my body, bracing for an unwanted impact. As he hugged me yelling “it’s absolutely beautiful!!! we are in paradise!”, I screamed in mock surprise.

Unwrapping his arms around me, I nodded silently. It is beautiful.

On the way back from the airport, our Thai taxi driver was visibly annoyed by the traffic. There were a few suppressed soft grunts as we came off the freeway into a street where traffic halted at a standstill.

Jeff, Anne and I were sharing the cab as the group had split into cabs with 3 people each. That morning, nearly all of us had waken up at 4:30 am to catch the sunrise over Angkor Wat. Then we spent some more time exploring the temple grounds. Despite relaxing at the hotel pool until the flight, in the taxi, we were exhausted and were nearly silent on the way back to our hotel in Bangkok.

I peered outside, watching the scenery outside. We were at a standstill in traffic for nearly 30 minutes. I asked Shipra, our native host, about the timeliness in Bangkok—do people emphasize punctuality in a city where bad traffic is predominant? Surprisingly, she said yes—people are polite and considerate of people’s time. But the word “traffic” is a common reason for tardiness—everyone understands. A few days ago, I watched America’s Top Model and was surprised to see the girls scolded for tardiness which was a result of traffic. Thais would never openly be critical; only obviously steam internally until it was gone.

As the taxi finally inched forward to the main road of Sukhumvit, I was surprised to see our taxi driver trying to weave through traffic. He was trying to turn onto Sukhumvit 20 where our hotel was located. In Bangkok, there’s no such thing as keeping the intersection clear. But as we turned, the traffic shifted almost as if the seas part. Cars were letting him through. I saw him bob his head; people don’t put their hand up as a sign of thank you. He started bobbing his head furiously which couldn’t help but remind me of a bobblehead.

With no honking and no outward display of anger (a cool heart indeed), we arrived at our hotel nearly taking more than 2 hours from the airport in Friday afternoon traffic.

One of my favorite noodle soups is the beef stew noodle soup from King of Thai—a Thai restaurant chain prevalent throughout San Francisco.

Once in Thailand, I embarked on a noodle soup journey, looking for the same soup. But it was never the case. The broth was often very flavored—spicy like the Thai way. Then full of vegetables. Balanced portions of noodles, meat and veggies. And in smaller portions.

Never in my 12 days in Thailand (2 days in Cambodia) did I find anything like the beef stew noodle soup.

Then I realized. The American versions of all these soups are…fattening, full of the cheap meat, overflowing with broth. Veggies? Nearly absent.

Am I too American too appreciate a true Thai noodle soup? Next weekend, I’ll see as I experiment again and trying not to fail at the Tom Kha soup I made yesterday.

How many types of vehicles did I ride? What kind of things did I eat? etc.? These are things that I kept track to the best of my ability!

Transportation Types
Planes: 7
Vans: 8
Taxi: 7
Tuk tuk: 6
Truck: 3
Longtail boat: 1
Speedboat: 1
Kayak: 1
Pasenger ferry: 1
Ship: 1
Water bus: 2
Car ferry: 2
Paddle boat: 1

Activities
Snorkeling: 3
In water (including pools, snorkeling, swimming) : 11
Used an eastern toilet: 4
Phone calls (international): 6
Postcards sent: 12
Beds: 8
Average hours per night slept: 5.5
Noodle soups eaten: 10

Other
Rained: 3
Photos taken: 653
Videos recorded: 3
Number of times Toad appears in photos: 83
Money spent: Approximately $2300 USD
ATM Withdrawals: 4
Money owed to someone: $81

In the last several years, I have believed that I can control my sleeping schedule.

When I first walked through the busy streets of Bangkok—the streets that are constantly jam-packed with cars more than any metropolitan city in the United States, I was surprised by one thing. No cars ever honked. Despite the humid heat, the 30 minute wait at a traffic light and what was supposed to be an 1 hour ride turned to 2 hour ride waiting in traffic…there is only silence and the rumble of motors.

One of the things I will miss about Thailand is: a cool heart or jai yen

Aka a philosophy of living. Although it has a Buddhist origin, it penetrates Thai society, surprising me the Westerner.

One of the first moments I had when I was back in the states was waiting in line at immigration. I had my passport and customs declaration form prepared. And to satisfy my curiosity and boredom, I was looking at a blank form for a US visa at a stand nearby. Not noticing, the line in front of me moved a few steps. Immediately, the person behind me tapped me impatiently, prodding me to move forward although the space between me and the person in front was negligible. Then the following day when I had brunch in San Francisco, as I crossed the street, I saw a car honk to warn a biker that he was coming through. The biker immediately gave a finger in anger.

While bargaining for goods in Thailand, I was always afraid that I would have a bad experience—someone would be unhappy and I would be unhappy. And even when I first started very low, Thai salespeople would never show anger or severe disappointment.

It’s that I miss.

Because I declared that I had food and went to a farm, the customs officer sent me to line A. Signs all around stated that Customs officials will treat everyone with respect. No accusation, no belittling, nothing that Jack Bauer would stand for.

So when the officer saw that I came from Thailand and Cambodia, he asked me if I was Thai or Cambodian. I stuttered a few words. I was worried that I had done something wrong. That maybe he suspected that my Asian-ness meant that I was a sneaky foreigner bringing illegal goods-racial profiling.

Then suddenly he said “sodee-ka” and bowed slightly with his palms together. The Thai greeting.

I was startled and said that I was American. Then realizing that the customs officer was trying to make friendly conversation instead of portraying hostility, I apologized and stuttered a few more words in my perfect American English.

Then he smiled and said, “Welcome home.”

I have always been a proponent of the statement if you don’t need it, it’s not on sale.

But suddenly I am tossed in a land where everything is less than $5. Yesterday, at a mega-mall, I was tempted to buy many clothes-some that seemed very like the clothes on Mission Street in San Francisco. Or was the quality better? I rubbed my fingers over the cloth…but who knows whether it would last many washes as I tried to bargain unsuccessfully with a saleswoman, who seemed to laugh at my attempts.

I bought 3 gifts, not even thinking-do I really need to get this?

Then the food. CDC must hate me now for eating the soup, the drinks, the fruit…and the delicious ice cream mixed in with fruit from a street vendor. This morning, ta-ching and I walked through a market…what I thought was going to be a market of vendors of goods…but it turned out to be a huge farmer’s market. A whole chicken cooked for only $2. Cockroaches (at least what they seemed to be), live squirming fish. stinky live frogs, wiggling larvae…low cost.

I didn’t see a single foreigner for almost an hour.

Finally, I walked into a hair salon, but after I had my hair shampooed, cut, rinsed and styled…I realized that I could have gotten something very similar in San Francisco chinatown and the mission for only a little bit more. I paid a total of 450 baht plus tip which amounts to around $10. The hair salon ambiance was close to the salon I used to go to on Mission and 25th. Was I saving a lot? Or was I enjoying my own inability to understand any Thai and be serviced by four individual Thai women? Where I pointed and gestured to indicate what I wanted and smile politely when it was correct…which is what I do anyway in the Mission salons. Or should I have gone to a frantic hair salon in the megamall where I would be serviced with “azn” hair dressers with highlights and pop music.

In Shanghai in 2001, my dad proudly came back to the hotel room, proclaiming that he got a haircut for $2. He talked about it for the rest of the trip.

In the nearly 1.5 days I have been here, I realize that pricing is relative. One might say that pricing in the states is more expensive…but there’s always somewhere you can find equivalent service. Maybe not a decent meal for $2. But you can always find something worthwhile if you look hard enough.

The day is here! And after tying up so many loose ends, it is the day…that I am departing to Thailand and Cambodia!

After so many months of indecision and anxiety about money…

After trying to find a great career opportunity…

After losing and then finding my passport in the same day…

After writing many statuses and tweets about the impending vacation…

After sending many emails tying loose ends…

After calling all my credit and atm cards…

After gathering my summer-like clothes…

I am now off to the airport with layover in Taipei. By tomorrow 9:30 pm PST, I shall be in a foreign country.

See y’all in 2 weeks. Or if I get internet access in the meantime…

There’s a strange moment as you near the end of your to-do list…that you realized that you have almost hit every task that you intended to do today. And the sun is still shining outside.

I look at my email box and realize that I have sent over 20 emails in the last day or so, requesting communication, asking questions, assigning tasks, and sending interesting links. It’s unlike the procrastinator side of me—a side that I am still reluctantly accepting that I rarely finish things but start anything that piques me.

And thus far for the record, today, I have: