Written on February 27th:

When we got on the night bus to Bangkok, we knew we were in for a seven hour bus ride, arriving at four in the morning in a city known for its corruption and grime. After having spent a few days in Bangkok, I can honestly say that if I were a Thai person living in Bangkok, the movie “The Hangover Part Two” would have infuriated me. While there is a party element to the city, which Sara and I definitely enjoyed, Bangkok is also a city of parks, colorful markets, rivers, temples, and kindness.

Sara and I got off of the bus in the dark hours of the early morning and hopped into a waiting tuk-tuk, which resembled a vulture waiting to pounce on desperate travelers. While we thought our guesthouse – Penang Palace – was in a central part of the city, it was two tuk-tuks, one cab ride, and several moments of heated haggling and sheer confusion later that we found our refuge.

Penang Palace was in an area of town with absolutely no other white people. Anywhere. Sara and I had a blast, surprising people at the local market, grinning from the raised walkways that line the streets, attempting to successfully mail a package from the local post office.

Our first day in town, we hopped on the very modern MRT underground system and headed for the famous Chatuchuck weekend market. After buying copious amounts of street food and shamelessly devouring it in a park, we got lost in a sea of indoor and outdoor stalls, sweating profusely, haggling with vendors for stylish new shirts, marveling at the open attitude toward homosexuality and cross-dressing in the city.

We decided to book a six-hour bike tour of the city, hoping to use our time wisely and have someone else make the difficult decision of what is important to see. We loved our bike ride, which took us through Chinatown and the Historic City, through flower markets, across tiny canals, and on a river ferry. We still have no idea what monuments and temples we saw, although we took plenty of pictures. Friendship Temple, where we rang a series of bells and made wishes, was illuminated by the sun setting behind it.

The most striking part of the bike tour was the friendliness of the people we passed. We clumsily rode through alleyways and markets, waving to gracious, smiling Thai people the entire way. Thailand: Land of Smiles.

Back to the beginning for a moment: On our bus from Chiang Mai to Bangkok, we happened to sit next to two men – who looked to be about our age – who ended up being one of the highlights of our time in Bangkok. Martijn and Tom, both from the Netherlands, were kind, curious, and brilliant. Martijn is a psychologist in a prison in Holland, while Tom is a freelance journalist and a personal trainer. Before Tom told me he was a journalist, I knew there was something unique about him. Interacting with him, I realized that I was answering as many questions as I was asking. This shouldn’t be a rarity in my life, but it was rejuvenating to feel like my story was valuable and appreciated. He said the same thing about interacting with me; normally, he feels like he provides the interest in most conversations, allowing people to share their experiences, without necessarily inviting him to do the same. People interested in journalism must share personality traits; on the bus, he brought up the book that I had just finished in Luang Prabang, South of the Border, West of the Sun. Serendipity in action!

The four of us spent a night on Khao San Road, the spot for nightclubs in Bangkok, playing pool, dancing, and laughing at the sheer number of lady boys who approached us. Tom bought me a cricket to eat, but only because we both thought that the scorpions were too expensive. It had so much salt, it could have passed for a potato chip. Except the legs. The legs threw me off. By three AM, after dancing at an aptly named locale called “The Club,” I realized that my cheeks were sore from laughing so much. That’s how life should be.

As Sara and I left for Cambodia, Martijn was off to India and Tom was returning to the Netherlands. Maybe we will see them again. If not, Sara and I are tremendously thankful for the reminder of the kind of thoughtfulness, sincerity, and adventure that is out there.