Let's Go, Jane!

As of today, I’m officially halfway through my gap year (it’s been six months since classes ended). On the one hand, it feels like it’s been no time at all since I was in graduate school. On the other hand, scrolling through the camera roll on my phone makes it feel like I’ve lived several lifetimes in the last few months. What an incredible experience it has been to be able to travel for such an extended period.

There was an article in the Washington Post this past summer that talked about what it means to have lived a “good life.” In addition to the standard causes (comfort, joy, purpose, and connection) it talked about psychological richness, stating that a good life is one marked by novel experiences, complexity, and perspective-shifting, even though those often come with more discomfort or challenges. I think that sums up long-term travel pretty well. I know I’m not going to get to the end of my life and regret that I didn’t own more stuff, but I might regret that I didn’t have more experiences. That is the spirit in which this gap year idea was born.

If psychological richness is measured by novelty, discomfort, and perspective shifts, Thailand may be the richest chapter yet. I’ve spent the last week in Bangkok. I arrived during Loy Krathong, a nationwide festival of floating lanterns on water (it coincides with the Lantern Festival in the northern parts of the country). I no sooner checked in at the hostel than I was invited to join a workshop to make a krathong and release it in a nearby body of water. We started with a thick slice of trunk from a banana tree, palm fronds, and toothpicks. Once the bases were constructed, we decorated them with orange marigolds, purple orchids, and a candle.

About two dozen of us walked to the nearest water and joined a line. At the front of the line there was a dock with a torch for lighting candles and incense. People of all ages waited patiently until it was their turn to place their floating lantern, say a few words (a prayer, an intention, letting go of negative emotions) and release their krathong. I chose to say “I release my anger, fear, and worry. May I have the courage to follow joy wherever it leads me.” 

I’m happy that I started my Thailand visit in Chiang Mai, because that is where I fell in love with Thailand. Bangkok is a big city, with that big city energy. I did a walking tour my first day, ate a bunch of street food, and called it an early night. I stayed in a hostel in a mixed dorm room, and the person in the bunk above me set an alarm for 5:30 am and then didn’t get up. That is such a pet peeve of mine. If you’re sharing a room and you set an early alarm, get out of bed! I later realized that he was Muslim and it was a prayer alarm. Then I felt bad for being judgey.

One interesting thing about Bangkok is how orderly the public transit system is. There is an elevated metro and an underground metro, and they are two totally separate systems with separate payment methods. The platform is clearly marked where the train doors will open, and people line up in a single file and wait patiently for passengers to disembark before filing onto the train. On the trains themselves, it is eerily quiet, even during rush hour. No conversation, no music, no one watching videos or scrolling through social media with the volume up. Just respectful quiet. In addition to children, pregnant women, injured people, and the elderly, there was a sign suggesting that monks should get priority seating.

I took a day trip to see a railway market and a floating market. The railway market is built right up to the train tracks, so when the train comes through, the shopkeepers have to fold up their awnings and haul their tables full of goods into their stalls. Tourists line up on both sides, squeezed in among piles of merchandise. I found myself caught on the tracks with a train slowly coming toward me and no room to stand, like a game of musical chairs gone wrong. I spotted a small space and squeezed in. The tourist already standing there said he was told by the shopkeeper that only three people were allowed in that spot. “I have to stand somewhere!” I said. The train rolled through slowly, inches from my nose, with people taking videos from the outside, and new arrivals taking videos from the inside. 

I also did an overnight trip to Ayutthaya, a town about two hours north of Bangkok that is full of ancient temples. It took longer than I expected to get to the train station, so I missed the train I intended to take. A station employee told me there was another train leaving from a different station, but there would not be enough time to get there by public transportation. I pulled up the Grab app (like Uber) and saw that it would be 15 minutes before a car could pick me up. The nice station lady helped me approach a motorbike taxi and negotiate a rate.

I hopped on the back of the scooter and off we went, weaving through traffic, with me death-gripping the handles under my seat. I found it was better not to look where we were going, so I did some people watching instead. I was amused to see that there were women in professional attire sitting sideways on the backs of motorbike taxis on their way to work. Imagine a young woman in a pencil skirt with a purse or a lunch box  in her lap, sitting primly, side saddle. Maybe even looking at her phone.

After a week in this heat and humidity (it reached 90 degrees today), I’m definitely looking forward to some cooler weather. I’m off to Vietnam in the morning. Six months in, and I can feel it—I’m slowly learning how to let go and follow joy. It’s hard to believe that the same woman white-knuckling a Bangkok scooter taxi this week will soon spend three days riding a motorbike through northern Vietnam…but that’s a story for next week!