The walk to my apartment, down Soi 65 in the Ekkamai neighborhood of Bangkok, is an experience of exploding, unceasing stimuli. Two narrow ditches, about an inch deep, separate the road from the shoulder on either side of the soi, waiting patiently to do their duty during monsoon season. The gullies are a nuisance in the morning and treacherous come nightfall, but they are just one of many distractions on the journey to my building. I sidestep searing hot grills dripping with chicken fat, only to feel a gust of air on my right shoulder from the speeding motorcycle taxi carrying two school boys in lavender polo shirts. Before I can recover, I nearly run into the old man on a withering bicycle who has stopped to buy roadside fish ball noodles, and then, after tripping over the edge of the gully (again), contemplate buying whole mangoes from grouchy corner store lady, or freshly sliced watermelon from the fruit cart near Tribes, the neighborhood café and art studio. Dodging dog poop and a few more unidentified liquids, I cross the street to avoid the four guys tinkering with telephone wires, and raise my hand to touch my favorite papery pink bougainvillea before arriving, sweaty as can be, home.
I traveled to Laos in February and while the entire trip was tranquil and deeply reflective, the sidewalks were second to none. The city of Luang Prabang is a UNESCO World Heritage site and I strolled for hours on its winding walkways, marveling at the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers, eyeing handcrafted wares at the famous night market, scaling 400 stairs to the top of Mt. Phousi to battle crowds of tourists for a peek at the sunset vista, and walking off too much jeow, pork laab, and steamed fish after a dreamy cooking class outside the city. Feet throbbing, I pondered and read contentedly each evening, letting a reviving sense of sanity and direction wash over me.
It is easy to want the things I do not have and easier still to resent the things I do. Most days I dread the gullies on Soi 65, but sometimes I place one foot in front of the other, a prima ballerina on my cracked concrete stage. A moment of grace in the madness.
Luang Prabang, Laos
Happiness in Bangkok
