It isn’t hard to forget all about those generic imported bananas and stale apples. Northern Thailand is bursting with wildly delicious fruits like juicy pineapple, pomelo, lychee, passion fruit, rose apples, purple dragon fruit, and life-changing strawberries. I also couldn’t resist the omnipresent smoothies to go.
When I went to renew my visa, the man at the immigration office only asked me one question as he pulled out his phone: “What do you think of this kitten I rescued yesterday?” When I responded with approval, he showed me the other rescued animals in his collection and some other images of the dogs owned by the King of Thailand.
Lighting off explosive fireworks in a busy street? No big deal. How about we launch this candle-lit lantern into the sky and watch as it gets caught in a tree or telephone wire? Sounds normal.
I quit wondering why every dish I ate was so delicious at the same time I stopped asking what was in it. Thais call the magical ingredient “tasty powder.”
The politest way to greet someone you respect is by bowing with palms pressed together and saying, “sawadika.” Even the Ronald McDonald statues in Thailand have adopted the salutation.
After seeing enough people bundled in down feather coats in 70 degree weather, I decided I too could use a jacket. I happily forgot about single digit temperatures back home in Boston and the unpleasant feeling of having to wade through several feet of snow piling up by the second.
I found it impossible to escape sugar. Instead of panicking I ate mango sticky rice every night and wondered why I ever tried to escape sugar in the first place. I only noticed I gained weight months later when I looked through pictures.
It is more expensive to cook your own food than go out for some street pad thai or pnang curry. Some of my favorite go-to restaurants cost no more than three dollars for a bowl of mouth-watering khao soi.
As mentioned earlier, fire was far from my mind. I didn’t find many buses in Thailand except for those going long distances. Instead I jumped into the back of red trucks with friends, which was a much easier and affordable way to get around.
In Thailand there is little room for overworking at the expense of relationships with people and family. There is so much more to life than a job. I doubt I’ll ever go back to 80-hour work weeks.
“Are you a good driver?” was the single qualifying question renters asked me before handing over the keys to a scooter. Nothing beats zooming down lush green roads or the satisfaction of weaving past stopped traffic on the back of a motor bike. The locals agree, and you’d be hard pressed to find a more affordable or more exhilarating way to get around.
There is a parlor on almost any street in the cities charging five bucks an hour for a deep tissue massage. Once I got over my American anxiety about human touch and my apprehension about being twisted into a pretzel, there was no going back. 