Here now in Bangkok, where it is warm and balmy without being wet. There are angry Buddhist statues dotted between handicraft or hair extension booths and restaurants; lavish makeshift shrines graced by earthly leavings such as a three quarters-full Fanta bottle and skittish, darting geckos haunt street corners. There are so many foreigners I am stunned and everywhere there are signs and speakers of English. Last night, after Indian food – the first I’ve had since visiting Pepper in July – I ended my exploring early, completely worn out from 10 hours of travel. One night more and we will head to Krabi.
On the bus from the airport, an Italian couple boarded shortly after I did, to my delight. As the seats were limited I asked them, in Italian, if they wanted to sit together. The words were fuzzy coming out of my mouth, however – since my parents gave up on Skype in favor of the more user-friendly Instant Messenger, I haven’t actually spoken Italian out loud since I saw them last August.
“What?” asked the man, in English.
“We’re okay, thank you,” said the woman, also in English. I was mortified.